The Sun.
London, England, 1844-02-01 00:00:00

he employed the interval with the greatest assiduity in
kindling a curiosity in the public mind concerning me,
which he inflamed to the highest pitch of longing. When
he thought them sufficiently aroused, and the moment ripe
for the event, he announced it with a flourish of his mana-
gerial trumpet that rung through the startled cars
of all Paris. The night came, and my destiny
with it. What my emotions were, it would be a vain
attempt to pourtray ;. but felt that the result decided my
career, that I should remain a favoured and admired plant in-
thig rich and coveted soil, or be nipped in the bud, and fall
withered and forgotten, into darkest obscurity. Every thing
was most judiciously arranged by the vigilant and sagacious
directeur, for he knew -his interest would be greatly affected
by the public decision.. A dirertissement was got up for the
, occasion, and it was so managed that I did not appear until
the public impatience was wound up to an almost intolerable
point. It was contrived that I should appear with a close
veil over my head and face, and which fell so amply down, as
nearly to conceal my person. In this shrouded form I ap-
peared on the stage, near to the lamps, and stood thus for .a
minute,. whilst a pantomimic colloquy was going on about
me. The house was silent, and almost breathless with ex-
pectation ; my veil was thrown back, and instantly every
opera-glass was levelled at my: devoted head. I 'shrunk
under the intensity of the gaze, so fixed and piercing; I fan-
cied I was burning under the ardent stare directed so steadily
upon me, As glass after glass was withdrawn, the pent-up
feelings of the house found relief in loud murmurs of satis-
faction, as I was told, being too anxious to determine the •
point for myself. My dancing gave equal pleasure, and as
.the ballet went on I rose in public estimation, till at the
close I was called for, and received the heartiest tokens of
admiration and good-will, more than I either deserved or
expected; yes, -far more. My success was, indeed, a prize
for me. How much had -I•noe.to fear from the experienced
judgment, the refined taste, of the French public, and the
surpassing merit of my rivals! Taglioni was then at the
very height of her renown; the _matchless creation La
Sylphide, hal carried her reputation to the uttermost ends of
Europe, ant her nightly perfornianees at the Opera were
hailed with enthusiastic plaudits by her enraptured admirers ;
and truly her execution was superb - and faultless. Graceful
as a swan, she glided majestically across. the. scene, leaving
in her wake mute wonder, and delight . No one compre-
hended her perfection more fully, no one enjoyed it more
heartily, than T did. Is it wonderful, then, that I trembled
when 1 stepped forth, night after night, to .contest with her
the coveted palm of superiority, and divide with her the
spoils of public favour ?"

" TAIT'S MAGAZINE. •
in Mrs. Gore's tale of " Blanks and Prizes,"
which is resumed in this Number, we find many of
those smart worldly touches of reflection which form
so conspicuous a feature in her tales of fiction. The
narrative, however, is not one of her best, and of the
characters introdueed, there' is scarcely one that she
has not already pourtrayed. Nevertheless' it reads
off easily and trippingly enough; and we have been
struck with the truth of this remark :—" The kins-
folk of modern times are apt' to resemble crocuses,
which_expand like globes of gold in the sunshine, but
shut up their hearts again as soon as the skies are
overcast." The " Sono- of the Starved by Law," is
a passable parody on Mr. Hood's " Song of the
Shirt," which it may be remembered appeared a few
weeks since in Punch. "Reminiscences of Mrs.
Opie,"—which we are pleased to see are to be con-
tinued—contain an account of an evening spent by
the authoress at Lady Cork's, in the memorable
pear 1814, where she had the honour of an introduc-
tion to Prince Leopold, who had then just arrived in
this country.. The " Withered Flower," is a simple,
unaffected . poem, but .our readers shall judge for
themselves :
" They brought her from the city vast,
To this dim forest dell :
'Tviould ease, they said, her pain to tread
The path she lov'd so well.
They led her forth by hill and spring,
And down the flowery den :
They deem'd her childhood's haunts would bring .
Her childhood back again.
The flower-buds glisten'd in the grass,
The bird sung in the tree :
A few short summers since, alas !
• She sung as blithe as he.
0 tell me not, in summer time,
Within this happy dale,
That lady's eye could long be dim, •
Her cheek could long be pale !
Yet momently they lost their light,
• Like stars, when day's begun,—
Or bluebells sweet, which chill winds blight,
When summer days are done.
And, hour by hour, life's sun sank low,
A sunset sad and bleak—
FOr death crept quietly and slow,
Like twilight o'er her cheek.
'Twas now the golden autumn time,
The old age of the day,
Each flowery cup was folded up,
Beneath the parting ray;
When, as the Sabbath's dying light
Stole through the lattice in,
That lady closed her eyelids bright,
Upon this world of 'sin.
Each flowret ope'd its Silken bell,
. When merry morning shone ;
But noon and evening came—yet still
She' silently slept on.
The lilies grow beside her feet,
The violets at her head;
An angel might not grieve to meet
With such a' blessed bed.
They brought her from the city vast, . •
To this dim forest dell :
Here first it sprung, and here, at last,
The withered floweret fell."

DUBLIN 'UNIVERSITY MAGAZINE.
One of the most agreeable articles in this Number
is a critical essay on the popular songs of the French
poet Beranger, between whom and Moore the follow-
ing comparison is instituted :—" Moore's sentiment is
enveloped in a vague and distant association ; the
thought of Beranger is bare and has a definitive aim.
The one resembles the sword of Harmodius, sheathed
in its myrtles ; the other is the palpable dagger of
Brutus. Moore's style is elegant and pointed, while
Beranger's is simple and concise." The critic then
proceeds to give translations of some of Beranger's
best lyrics, and is, we think, successful in his versions.
" Life of Gerald Griffin" is a laudatory notice of a
recently published biographical memoir of the gifted
author of " Gisippus." " Arrah Neil, or Times of
Old," is a tale from the pen of that most prolific of
living novelists, Mr. James. It is very tedious and
languid in places, and bears marks of having been
dashed off in breathless haste. In the " Episodes of
Eastern Travel" we meet with some forcible sketches
of the Nile, and the scenery in the neighbourhood of
Memphis.

UNITED SERVICE JOURNAL.
We have here, among other papers, some sensible
remarks on the state of affairs in the East, under the
title of "A Glance at Indian Affairs, Retrospective and
Prospective." The writer is a strenuous- defender of
Lord Ellenborough's course of policy, observing that
he "had had great and unusual difficulties to cope with,
and it is no small credit to him to have surmounted
them hitherto with success, and to have extorted
praise in some instances, even from those who would
have gloried in his failure." A "Fortnight's Furlough"
relates some interesting particulars respecting that
Earl of Warwick who lived in the reign of Henry
the Fifth. The remaining articles are of an average
order of merit.

COLONIAL MAGAZINE.
There is considerable tact and judgment displayed
in the getting up of this Magazine, which—as may
be guessed from its title—is exclusively devoted to
the consideration of colonial matters. The informa-
tion it gives us on these matters is copious and well-
digested; and the Number is embellished with seve-
ral appropriate engravings. The article on the " Past
and Present condition of the Cape of Good Hope"
abounds in curious statistic details.