This is followed by the full chorus, which breaks upon the audience in waves of conflicting harmony; the voice of exultant Israel; the partisans of David and Saul, clamoring in competition for their respec

tive heroes:

"Hail to Saul and David!

Songs triumphant raise!

They come, they come victorious!

Swell your notes of praise!

Saul hath his thousands

In the battle slain;

David with ten thousands

Strewed the battle plain!"

Then comes a brilliant quartette, succeeded by a grand chorus, the finale of part first.

Part second opens at the king's palace. The representation of Saul was an arduous but very effective performance. The proud deep sadness, the utter anguish of disappointed ambition, the conflict and chaos of all evil passions in the breast, were expressed in melodized thunder, deep, angry, terrible. This was the task of Mr. Seguin, and never did I hear a human voice of more majestic tone. Its singular adaptation to the peculiar cast of the music, gave it overwhelming effect. Amid this tumult of terror and hell of wrath, Jonathan calls for David. David plays a prelude upon his harp, followed by a few soothing vocal strains. The king expresses disapprobation, contempt. The Shepherd Minstrel sings:

"When fairest on a monarch's brow
The gems of virtue shine,

How bright doth his example glow,
How noble, how divine!

But should the soul-consuming power
Of sin his heart enthral,

How dim his crown, how dark his hour,
From what a height his fall!
Now therefore, O ye kings, be wise;
Serve ye the Lord with fear;
Then as the light

From morning height,

Blazing abroad o'er all the skies,
Your glory shall appear!"

The exquisite air contrasted beautifully with the wild unearthly tones of Saul; and was performed so charmingly, that the audience clamored loudly for its repetition. The king now grows furious. The attendants exhort David to fly for safety. The king's daughter joins them. Nothing could be more touching than the last strain of her recitative:

"Ah, woe is me! thou must not tarry here!"

or more sweetly sad than her terzetto:

"Dearer to me than all below,

Though for a little while we part,
The hours will linger sad and slow,

Till thou return to bless my heart!"

The beloved Jonathan mingles his lament with hers; and the three unite in a farewell which stirs the depths of the soul with a strange and wondrous sadness.

Again the scene changes. You are in the camp near Gilboa. Saul and Jonathan survey the advancing foe, and resolve to "do or die." Their duet is full of inspiration, especially the reiterated conclusion:

"On to the battle field!"

Then rages the battle symphony. You thrill to the call of trumpets, and the clash of commingling steel. You hear the rush of the combatants, the shouts of triumph, and the groans of death. A messenger proclaims the catastrophe:

"Saul and his sons are slain !"

A grand chorus follows, singular in its adaptation, to touch the deep chords of human sympathy:

"O Israel, mourn! their course is o'er;
The brave, the mighty, are no more;

Let all your streams of sorrow flow!"

The stormful wail of the many thousands of Israel moves the audience to a deep and indefinable sorrow. The last strain:

"O day of bitterness and woe!"

sounds like the bursting of a nation's heart.

Now shifts the scene to Hebron. David is led forth and crowned, amid the rejoicings of his people. After the coronation anthem, and a grand chorus, predicting David's greatness, and the kingdom of

"David's greater Son," you hear the chanting of angelic voices:

"Blessed be he that cometh in the name of the Lord! Hosanna in the highest!"

This celestial chorus is sung exclusively by ladies.
The solo which accompanies it seems to come down
from the empyrean.
Miss Northall was the per-

former. Her voice, shrill as the lark's and sweet as the nightingale's, soared to its utmost altitude, and became peculiarly conspicuous amid the blended melody. During this performance, every countenance beamed with intense delight; and its termination drew forth deafening peals of applause. Then the grand finale came thundering down upon us, with the tread of an earthquake; and closed an oratorio, such as shall one day be performed in Heaven, with Christ for its hero, and redemption for its theme!

XIII. "WHAT CAN I DO?"

(1846.)

THE interrogation which I have placed at the head of this article, would seem almost superfluous, when we remember that every highway and by-way of life is teeming with objects upon which to lavish exertion. But many, with a vague desire to be usefully active, find themselves in the situation

of the prince in the fairy tale, who, when he came within the vicinity of the magic fountain, was so distracted by the multitude of voices that aspired to direct his way, as to be quite incapable of deciding which was the right path. Thus the multiplicity of objects often prevents the power of selection; and between inaction and irresolution, life passes away unimproved, and none is the better for our sojourn among men.

It is said that one of the three things which Cato regretted during his life time, was, that he had ever spent a day in inaction. Newton, after all his splendid achievements in science, declared that he had been but gathering pebbles on the sea-shore, while the great ocean of truth stretched out in mystery before him. And Johnson, in the zenith of his literary success, as the eagle soaring to the sun, paused for retrospection, and exclaimed, "What have I been doing?"

1. If we look within ourselves, we shall find enough to do a mind to be expanded and improved-a heart to be purified by faith, and perfected in love— a work which shall control the current of our eternal being. The material is furnished, on which is to be wrought the likeness of Divinity, and the instruments for the work are put into our hands. The soil and the seed are given from which we are to realize the full harvests of knowledge and virtue; but the ploughing, the sowing, and the reaping, are The mind that would be happy must

our own.