The morning star and Catholic messenger. [volume] (New Orleans [La.]) 1868-1881, 1873-01-26

THE NOR
magazine. as ! happen to know. isentireiy
waeoeu ~ frishmen--cxn- accomplish IN this
itne Of literary composition. i shall make
our Old Theatre Royal in tho opera season.
says the writer :at7 ~ SIS srain -r a'a -
Let me say, then, in . miider, strain, that
the opera gallery is little world or at least
little Ireland. All the brogues are therc-ear-
Antrim, rieh Doris Connaaght, melodiousG Glare,
and Cork, distiuguishable over all the rest like
afaceofy chimney over cottages. There, too
are are az the socents from the hop, step and .
, ,e s,a n yGGpe VIII Limerick mem to the gen
nublsn. The cod is jost!ed by the boor, nnd
tha swell by the philosopher The boy, as far
from manhood as the tadpo1e is from frog
boods puSs his elbow into the ribs Of bis next
seighhor. lfasa city man, as mHch used up IA
or Chartes CofdstTeam was before he turned
hind and recovered his tone on love and yor-
ridge. The Trinity ireshm an, the sweep, the
medical calf, the private soldier, the man who
lives on his money, the jdler Who Is at the
opnra because he finds no STUN outside, the
true lover Of sweet sounds, who is thrilled by
tne touch OF Mozart as the war-horse by the
sound OF trumpet, the Bohemian who goes
every where, the poor enthusiast, and the mere
dull soul who pays his eiShtecnpence because
80 many Others do the same, and knows no
more why tho opera :pieases anyone than o
funerai-all these various kinds of people, and
O great many others, SIT aioft in loving fellow
ship as gods. They are the Arabs of the city
desert, VINO come suddenly trooping down on
their fannels to Dollymount in the rowing
season they drive to the Strawberry Beds;
they pull against each other in the regattaa;
they swarm to Baldoyle aud Pnnchestown !;
play billiards, lounge over bars, walk up and
down the streets, and divide their art patron
age between high tragedy at the Queens, mid
die tragedy at the Royal, and mock tragedy at
the 9alety, and the law allows them in the
mnsic halls"
The second treats of the wit of the gallery,
upon which the writer, not quite unjust1y, per-
hAps, IL very savage:
'About the wit of the upper gallery a harsh
critic might find much to say, butI prefer to
pass 1t by ~ fast ~ possible. We have read in
o and ;S papers. and heard, tocIhave We
and tho wine," that the upper gallery in opera
days gone BY WAS radiant realm of wit. Per
haps it was: When grey beard elders tire my
cars with those old stories Of their youth-of
their youth, when the sun shone every day,
and all the geese in the land were swans-I
think of the reverence due to age, but indulge
the secret thought that old people are apt to
deceive themselves, as we'll as US, whom they
talk about the distant past. They love to
cover the dry skeleton with spangied robe,
no doubt woven in Memory's loom. but EN-.
broidered by the hands of Fancy. If ever the
gods had souls with eagle piumes, Of late they
have been content with shallow fights. Tuey
have they eye Of lynx for ga white hat in the
pit" but no minds eye at all for Il bon mot
They sometimes fling o handful at snail shot
uRs ssSp nf heads but sr or never let
reason Why blind folk cann"t nee. nor one
armed MEN be archers, accounts for the absence
OF wit from the upper gallery. 1t is even pos
the role of Yerrick, and share the pet idea Of
legfons of "nice people" /. C that wit aud such
exhibitions are not good form" in mice So
ciety, and that commonplace is the glass of
witty man, l would take my Diogenes' lantern
into tho cabin of o coal ship-ay, into o mill
tary mess-room, before I ever could think of
searching among the gods"
But the writer is not cynical only, here is o
touch of nature:
The human obse was the fixed star of the
season, but one night his radiance paled in the
sudden blaze of meteor. A pale young boy,
hair that was parted like girls, had been sit
ting close beside me in timid silence, and
gazing wonderingly about him with great black
eyes that realized to mine Arts dream Of tue
infant Samuel. Ia the chance lnll of moment
this boy began to sing in o voice as like girls
as his face. The song had the simple purity OF
childhood, the sweet tenderness of his uplifeed
eyes: My Mary of the Curling Hair" Tue
fresh voice warbled it, and no other sound was
heard. The "walloping" ditties and diverting
! blasphemies of Signor Oboe were left out Of
mind with himself. When the sweet love-song
| was over, and the lids of the singer dropped
restraint and wonder burst forth iu a grand
hurricane of applause. flash of pride made
the bright eye brighter still, and the pale
cheek as led as q summer rose. Wellington
was far less happy the night after Waterlos
than this boy IN his first triumph among tie
gods. Ambition led him into that wild region
once, l scanned tho gallery keenly many 9
night, but never saw him after"
need not characterize criticize the fore
going; you and your readers will be able to
judge for yourselves. I wish 1 had space to
quote from the poetical pieces. One of them
"St. Columbus Farewell to Erin us really q
fine piece of writing
Turning to political matters, 1 have to say
at once that there is scarcely anything to be
said this week on the subject. No person has
yet been appointed to succeed Judge Lynch on
the bench of the Landed Estates Court. The
| rumor is now very prevalent that the Govern
ment will select some non parliamentary, non
political lawyer, fearing to give either Clare
or Tipperary, or Kings county, the chance OF