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nivelly district, but in such small numbers that they do not deserve the name of congregations.

"In the meantime, do not suppose that those thin congregations are wholly composed of converted pagans; at least half consists of catholic apostates, who went over to the Lutheran sect in times of famine, or from other interested motives.

"It is not uncommon on the coast to see natives who successively pass from one religion to another, according to their actual interest. In my last journey to Madras, I became acquainted with native converts who regularly changed their religion twice a year, and who for a long while were in the habit of being six months catholic, and six months protestant. -

"Respecting the new missionaries, of several sects, who have of late years made their appearance in the country, you may rest assured, as far as my information on the subject goes, that notwithstanding the pompous reports made by several among them, all their endeavours to make converts have till now proved abortive, and that their successes are only to be seen on paper."

These are strong arguments on the question of proselytism, and the following are difficult positions on that of circulating the Bible:

"I will (says the Abbé) resume my subject, and show that the naked text of the Bible, exhibited without a long previous preparation to the Hindoos, must prove detrimental to the Christian religion, and increase their aversion to it, inasmuch as this sacred book contains in almost every page accounts which cannot fail deeply to wound their feelings, by openly hurting prejudices which are held most sacred.

"To you who have some acquaintance with the education and customs of the Hindoos, I will put the following simple questions:

"What will a well-bred native think, when, in reading over this holy book, he sees that Abraham, after receiving the visit of three angels under a human shape, entertains his guest by causing a calf to be killed, and served to them for their fare? The prejudiced Hindoo will at once judge that both Abrabam

and his heavenly guests were nothing but vile pariahs; and, without further reading, he will forthwith throw away the book, containing (in his opinion) such sacrilegious accounts.

"What will a Brahmin say, when he peruses the details of the bloody sacrifices prescribed in the mosaical law in the worship of the true God? He will assuredly declare, that the god who could be pleased with the shedding of the blood of so many victims immolated to his honour, must undoubtedly be a deity of the same kind (far be from me the blasphemy) as the mischievous Hindoo deities, Cohly, Mahry, Darma-rajah, and other infernal gods, whose wrath cannot be appeased but by the shedding of blood, and the immolating of living victims.

"But, above all, what will a Brahmin or any other well-bred Hindoo think, when he peruses in our holy books the account of the immolating of creatures held most sacred by him? What will be his feelings, when he sees that the immolating of oxen and bulls constituted a leading feature in the religious ordinances of the Israelites, and that the blood of those most sacred animals was almost daily shed at the shrine of the God they adored? What will be his feelings when he sees, that after Solomon had at an immense expense and labour built a magnificent temple in honour of the true God, he made the pratista or consecration of it, by causing 22,000 oxen to be slaughtered, and overflowing his new temple with the blood of these sacred victims ? He will certainly in perusing accounts (in his opinion so horribly sacrilegious,) shudder, and be seized with the liveliest horror, look on the book containing such shocking details as an abominable work (far be from me, once more, the blasphemy, I am expressing the feelings of a prejudiced Pagan,) throw it away with indignation, consider himself as polluted for having touched it, go immediately to the river for the purpose of purifying himself by ablutions from the defilement he thinks he has contracted, and before he again enters his house, he will send for a Poorohita Brahmin to perform the requisite ceremonies for purifying it from the defile

ment it has contracted, by ignorantly keeping within its walls so polluted a thing as the Bible.

"In the mean while he will become more and more confirmed in the idea, that a religion which derives its tenets from so impure a source is altogether detestable, and that those who profess it, must be the basest and vilest of men. "Such are the effects which, in my humble opinion, the reading of the naked text of the Bible cannot fail to produce on the unprepared minds of the prejudiced Hindoos.

"I have only cited the above instances, being the first which occurred to my mind in writing this letter; but I could point out in almost every chapter of holy writ passages nearly as exceptionable, and which it would be equally dangerous to exhibit without a long previous explanation to the prejudiced Hindoo.

"On the whole, it is my decided opinion, that to open all at once and without a long preparation, this precious treasure, to the Hindoos, would be similar to attempting to cure a person labouring under severe sore eyes, by obliging him to stare at the rays of a shining sun, at the risk of rendering him altogether blind, or at least of be ing altogether dazzled and confounded by an excess of light. It would be the same as the administering of solid food to young babes, whilst their weak stomachs are hardly adequate to digest milk of the lightest kind; it is exactly (to use the language of the scriptures,) to give that which is holy unto the dogs, and cast pearls before swine:' it is to put wine into old bottles, which break, and the wine runneth out, and the bottles perish.""

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(Blackwood's Mag.) ENGLISH SONGS.*

THE English have been charged by foreigners with having no native music. This charge partakes of the spirit of all foreign accusations, and is partly prejudice, and partly ignorance, let the impeachment be laid by whom it may. With the chief portion it is rank ignorance; for under the name of England, they have included the empire, and are still, in ninety-nine instances out of a hundred, to be told that Ireland and Scotland have had a music of their own, infinitely purer, more original, and more touching, than all the canzonets and cavatinas, from the Alps to Vesuvius.

Doctor Kitchener deserves an apotheosis for having gathered a volume of those fine records. His work comprehends fifty six of the most celebrated land songs. Another volume will present a selection of the finest in honour of our sea glories, and both will form a collection of singular value and interest, whether as specimens of English music, or memorials of the predominant feeling of our forefathers in their days of victory and patriotism.

The volume, a showy folio, is prefa

ced by an introduction treating of the general design of the work. The doctor here indulges in the triumphant tone of successful authorship. "The first number of the Loyal and National Songs of England will be a sufficient answer to those who have heedlessly said, the English have no national songs, and prove the proud fact in direct contradiction, that no nation in the world has half so many loyal, nor half so many national songs. What country can boast more beautiful national songs than God save the King, To arms, Rule Britannia, Hearts of Oak, and a hundred others which are presented to the public in this work ?" Then follows a list of names beloved by glee clubs and the men of cathedrals, but eclipsed in our degenerate day by foreign "balladmongers." The list is nearly thirty long, and boasts of Locke, Purcell, Bird, Carey, Leveridge, Croft, Green, coming down through the Arnes,

The Loyal and National Songs of En-.

gland, for one, two, or three Voices. Se

lected from original MSS. and early printed copies in the library of William Kitchener M.D. London, 1823.

&c. to Calcott.-Even among the modern composers a vast number of works, popular in their day, have been flung into unmerited oblivion, as the occasion passed away. This is the natural course of things. Victory supersedes victory, and with the old success perishes the old song. Party is trampled under the heel of party; the the Tory once shrunk before the Whig, and the Muses were furiously solicited to sing his discomfiture; the Whig changed his principles, grew contemptible, and lost the favour at once of the nation, and of Parnassus. Honest men eschewed the name, and good poets scorned to give an eleemosynary stanza to its manes. Toryism rose for honour of common sense, and the good of the country; and if it has hitherto been tardy in cementing its harmonic captivations, yet, as all the songs in honour of English honour, loyalty, and glory, are palpably but Toryism set to music, it is still at the head of affairs in Helicon, without costing itself an additional stave. Our musicians have not been idle. The complete published works of the English composers fill two hundred and fifty folio volumes; and we venture to predict, that the doctor's sale, serus in cœlum, will be the choicest compilation of black-letter melody that has been committed to the eloquence and the hammer of a Christie, or an Evans, since Queen Elizabeth played upon the virginals.

The names of the songs are a treasure of loyalty in themselves, the sound of a trumpet to the ear of all lovers of the Catch-club and the constitution. The praises, healths, and prosperities of monarchy, take, as they ought, the first place; and we have, including "God save the King" twice over, a whole succession of kingly melodies, in all the forms of song, glee, catch, and chorus. We have thus, "Long live the King, composed by Handel, in 1745," for the Gentlemen Volunteers of the City of London. The words are true, honest, straight-forward allegiance, and such as might bring discomfiture to the heart of any Whig, even in our day of rebellious politics and romantic poetry. Ex. Gr.

"Stand round, my brave boys,
With heart and with voice
We'll fight for our King,
And as loyally sing.

And all in full chorus agree;

And let all the world know we'll be free. "The rebels shall fly, As with shouts we draw nigh,

And Echo shall Victory ring;
Then safe from alarms,
We'll rest on our arms,

And chorus it, Long live the King ?''

This is poetry to the purpose,-no rambling about groves and doves, lips and sips; no raving about sobs and sun flowers, and "victory's moon;" but proper words in proper places, and adapted to the capacity of volunteers. The whole corporation of the Pierides could not have done it better.

This is followed by a long and worthy list of "Great George is King." (1745.)

"Here's a health to our King," (1700.) "Long live Great George," (Dr.Boyce,1730.) "God preserve his Majesty," (Dr.Blow, 1699.)

It is painful to pass over the poetry which gave force to those fine melodies. But Here's a health to our King has an irresistible claim on our commemoration, from its having been a favourite of Swift, a name "unmusical to Volscian ears." The poetry is firstrate in its style.

"Here's a health to the King,

And a lasting peace;
May the factious (the Whigs) be hanged,
And Discord cease!

"Come, let us drink it while we've breath,
For there's no drinking after death;
Down among the dead men let him lie.
And he that will this health deny,
Down, down, down, down! (ad libitum.)

Yet it has competitors, and Dr. Blow's renowned catch may rely on immortality, if such can be gained by pithiness of conclusion.

"God preserve his Majesty,
And for ever send him victory,
And confound all his enemies!
-TAKE OFF YOUR HOCK, SIR!—
-Amen!"—

No. 11, written in 1700, has all the merits of the Augustan era. It is true, terse, triumphant, and Toryish.

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Song on "St George," is worthy of a
Greek Epigram.

"All the world can't shew the like Saint.
All the sacrifice that we expend,
Is to drink fair, and to deal square,
And to love our friend."

No. 43.-" Come, my lads," should
stand beside it in the Anthologia. It
was written on a Spanish war.
"Who cares a puff for France and Spain,
Soup maigre in alliance!

They'll soon be hang'd, as cross the main ;
We'll give them bold defiance.
"The Monsieurs want some English beef;
Some pudding would delight them;
We'll fill their bellies, ease their grief;
And afterwards we'll fight them."

This is incomparably British; at once brave and benevolent, contemptuous and charitable. The idea of first feeding and then killing, could not have occurred to any other than a great nation, equally beef-eating and belligerent; the spirit of agriculture and ambition could go no further.

The praise of beef is, however, a subject at once so national and individual, that we are surprised at the editor's moderation, (to give it no more invidimatchless nutriment of British heroism ous name,) in limiting the glories of the to a single song. That one is, however, an apotheosis The renowned "Roast Beef of Old England," (Leveridge, 1730.) The words have all the grace of fiction, and all the accuracy of history.

"King Edward the Third, for his courage renown'd,
His son at sixteen, who with laurels was crown'd,
Ate beef with their armies, so never gave ground!-
Oh the roast beef of Old England, &c.

"The Henrys, so famous in story of old,

The Fifth conquer'd France, and the Seventh, we're told,
Establish'd a band, to eat beef and look bold.
Oh the roast beef, &c.

"When good Queen Elizabeth sat on the throne,
Ere coffee and tea, and such slip slop, were known,
The world was in terror, if e'er she did frown.
Oh the roast beef," &c.

The fortunate celebrity of the song almost prohibits quotation; and the Laus Kitcheneri must close; yet the "British Grenadiers " "detains the spirit still," and the reader shall have the parting delight of a few couplets from a composition whose mythology

and music might have given new ardour to the troops of Leonidas, or reversed the fates of Charonea. It is Greek in the highest degree, and breathes of a scholarship that must have made the author a phenomenon in the Guards.

The British Grenadiers.

"Some talk of Alexander, and some of Hercules,

Of Conon and Lysander, and some Miltiades,

But of all the world's brave heroes, there's none that can compare,
With a tow row, row, row, row, row, to the British Grenadiers.
Chorus-But of all, &c.

None of your ancient heroes e'er saw a cannon-ball,
Or knew the force of powder, to slay their foes withall;
But our brave boys do know it, and banish all their fears,
With a tow row, row, row, row, the British Grenadiers.
But our brave, &c.

Whene'er we are commanded to storm the palisades,
Our leaders march with fusees, and we with hand-grenades,
We throw them from the glacis about our enemies' ears,
With a tow row, row, row, row, the British Grenadiers.
We throw them, &c.

The God of War was pleased, and great Bellona smiles,
To see these noble heroes of our British Isles.;

And all the Gods celestial, descending from their spheres,
Behold with admiration the British Grenadiers.

And all the Gods celestial, &c.

Then let us crown a bumper, and drink success to those
Who carry caps and pouches, and wear the louped clothes;
May they and their commanders live happy all their years,
With a tow row, row, row, row, to the British Grenadiers!
May they and their commanders," &c.

It is almost superfluous to say, that those words are set to the most animated and manly melodies. The vigour of the verse implies it. Though excellence of all music is its appropriateness, no man will suppose that words like these are conveyed to the ears of the earth in Sicilianas and affetuosos. But for boldness, loftiness, and a direct connexion of energy of sound with energy of sense, they certainly have no superiors in the whole chronology of music. All the continent has been labouring to produce a God save the King, and all its efforts have failed. What are the Vive Henri Quatre, the

Wilhelmus von Nassau, or the inna merable "God Save the Kings," "Electors," "Emperors," &c. flooding out yearly from the German school, to our noble melody? The old English composers have fully established their claim to distinction; and when Doctor Kitchener, in the fullness of years and publication, shall descend to the elysium of painters, poets, and musicians, we predict that the shades of Blow and Green, Purcell and Leveridge, will be waiting at the entrance, deputed to lead him to the softest seat, and overwhelm his brows with the greenest laurel.

FRAGMENT OF A DIALOGUE.*

Buller. Have you seen Dr. Kitchener's book?

North. I have, and a good, jovial, loyal book it is. The Doctor is, by all accounts, a famour fellow-great in cookery, medicine, music, poetry, and op tics, on which he has published a treatise.

Odoherty. I esteem the Doctor.

North. The devil you do!-after cutting him up so abominably in my Magazine, in an article, you know, inserted while I was in Glasgow, without my knowledge.

Odoherty. Why are you always reminding a man of his evil-doings? Consider that I have been white-washed by the Insolvent Court since, and let all my sins go with that white-washing. To cut the matter short, I had a most excellent Cookery-book written, founded on the principles practised in the 99th mess, and was going to treat with Longman's folks about it, when Kitchener came

* Extracted from Noctes Ambrosiane, in Blackwood's Ed. Mag, for July.

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