The evening telegraph. [volume] (Philadelphia [Pa.]) 1864-1918, 1866-05-03
Err AT u r E.

20 little, yet which has pleased ne so much' AS
general rule, when we lay down o book with
sigh of regret, we can recall some OF the incl
dents II narrated, and enjoy over again the
pleasure which we felt when first we perused it..
But now, as we try to think of what gave us
satisfaction in "The Good-for-Nothing, as we
, try to find out the cause of our amusement, we
have a general sensation of qualification, but
there is not one particular portion to which we
can refer it. The whole book is so extremely light
and at the same time, extremely pleasing, that
we have no tangible substance to seize upon and
examine. 1t is an airy tale OF a Good-for
Nothing, told IN an airy style, as
"Swift Camilla, scours across the plain"
mill boy sets out fiom his fathers house to
zee the world. Although he is not named or de-
scrbed in the whole course Of the story, yet,
Mt the same time, we feel confident that
he is an Adonis in iorm and feature. He
visits Vienna, and on the way, while singing
and playing the violin, for his amusement,is taken
mp by some ladies' and allowed to ride behind
until they reach their castle. He is employed
as gardener, when the young countess falls in
love with him; but he, not knowing her alfec
lion, in despair at her position, leaves the castle
and starts for Itay. de reaches Rome, has
numerous adventures, and finally returns 20 the
countess, whom he discovers to be only an
adopted daughter of the lady of the place,
when they are married, "and all, all was good"
To give specimen Of the light, pleasing style
Of the work, and also the exquisite taste with
which little songs are introduced, we quote from
its pages:-
II was in this state of mind tha' lay one Sunday
afternoon, III t1e garden and veXed mvse., as /
Razed INTO my blue heaven OF tobacco smoke above,
trade,
that l couldn't even indulge on the morrow in
blue Monday All the other boys had gone, well
provided with sweethearts 10 the ancin g-pIace in
the nearest village Every thing and everybody were
.sTTarming swarm back and Iorth' IN Sunday 80 endor, in
were beginning to SHINE ano amid wandering hand
organs. But sat like mud-hen among the reeds
OF lonely pond IN our ground, rocking myself in q
solitary boat tied to the shore, While the evening
bel pealed from the distant city, and the swans
saiIe, soemniy around. was melancholy enough
10 die. ...
A,eunwhile, heard from atar many m Try voices,
rapidly mingled talk, and laughter, all the time
drawing nearer aud nearer Then came the distant
gleam Of red and white tans and hats, and feathers,
Through green caves; and all at once 1 sur
Toundeo by a crowd OF young gentlemen and ladies
from the castle and among them were my two ladies
"Ah why, this IS Just as if we had wished Tor some
thing and 1t camel" said the plump beauty. "Come,
row us to the other side of The pond" The ladies'
climbed in did the gentlemen; the former making
a great display of their mldity, and the later OF
their COURAGE. When had all my passengers fairly
seatt pushed of. OF course there was, as usual
the boat-and with him the ladies who gggle and
scream and the ese played their parts 70 perecion.
ss te sSt oe w b GleF edge Of ho boat and looked
calmly smiling, into the su waters, which she swept
with her ny ana th seemed TO me tnas 9eT e reee nee;
Of an angel softly swe2p ping through ire deepDlue
background OF heaven.
While / was looking at this picture, it suddenly
ocsurred to the plump and blac z.eyed dame that l
ought to sing something as we were gong over
the water. At once a very elegant young gentle
m viii nQsOa
turned towards her In rapture kissed her hand as il
she had just saved his lite, and cried, "Thank you
tor the inspired idea! real popular song, my dear
lady-sung by one Of the real people in the arr
you know-is an Alpine rose on an Alp itself Prned
collections OF such songs are mere books OF dried
specimens OF roses; but living song Is the soul of
the natlona SOUL"
ing serious doubts as to whether knew anything
corresponding to such description, and, therefore,
gentlemen and ladies. At this, the lively waiting.
maid who sat behind holding basket iull of glasses
d SonS OSou eSS aST ne tbo osa
1t boldly !" cried the plump lady. became red and
redder; but saw that all the time the beautiful
went through my very soul, grew bold; and, tax
ing heart, sang, as if lnspired-
whereer go, whate'er view,
From m TfSo the moRnfan onG hgS IN heaven blue
lady far, seud Oyo1
thousand greetings STILL
All In my garden oft find
A thousand thoughts among them bind
And greetings mingled there.
Icannot offer her my flowers;
She Is too Oh me;
They'll S withsr IL IN PIIS few short !, hours, SE,
To her will constantine
seem well p eased with everything
And do what work have;
But, though my heart to pieces spring,
III Dig my gSrden still and sing,
Although dig my grave,
We got out on land. Many OF the young gentle
men had, as saw, been mOcking me to the ladies
and making fun of my little song. The gentleman
with the quZZing. glass, however caught me by the
hand and sald-l really don't know what; while the
plump lady looked at me from her black, haltcosed
eyes swesty and Ian ulshingly than ever. The
beautiful young iady had stood, during my whole
song, with her eyes cast down, and at the end went
away SAYING nothing. But IN mine, tears had risen
even Willie sang, and my heart swelled If break
ing with shame and pam, for IL seemed all at once
plain to me how beautiful ana great she was, and 1
poor, and Knocked, and miserable IN tins world.
And, as thev disappeared behind the trees, could
nOlOnger reran anC, casting myself into the boat,
wept bitterly,
The work abounds in these dainty morsels Of
song, and we must congratulate Mr.. Leland on
the freedom and ease with which he render
them. We have reason to believe that the trans
lation adds to the authors fame more than the
original lines would. Mr.. Leland is probably
the best translator from the German we have
and if, by some means, his familiarity with the
languages could only be diffused 50 as to extend
TO those who undertake to give us rendltions
from the French, what real delights would
Dumas, George Sands, and Hugo afford!
The work is printed in tasty form by Messrs.
Leypoldt & Holt, who were formerly of our
own city. Its execution has an aroma of black
Ia4Na aYnA ont ha hovn