of languages, and would be quite capable of mistaking "_Gran Dio_" for a
comic song, and "_Libiamo_" for a lover's lamentation, were not the
translated libretto of _Traviata_ at hand to supply them and the critics
of the minor papers, with the cue for the display of appropriate
emotion. Singers, especially, understand the full force of the above
stated axiom. Hence, those who are deficient in voice avoid the English
stage. Miss KELLOGG, for example, never attempted English opera, because
she knew that people who had heard ROSE HERSEE or CAROLINE RICHINGS
would laugh at her claim to be "the greatest living Prima Donna," should
she compete with those birds of English song. Wherefore, she wisely
confined herself to the Italian stage, sure of pleasing a public that
knows nothing of music, but is confident that a lady who enjoys the
friendship of Madison avenue must be a great singer. PAREPA, on the
contrary, turned from the Italian to the English stage,--but then PAREPA
had a voice.

How many years is it since CAROLINE RICHINGS first sung in English
opera? It is an ungallant question, but the answer would be still more
ungallant were it not that Miss RICHINGS is an artist; and with artists
the crown of youth never loses the brightness of its laurel leaves. At
any rate, she has sung long enough to compel the recognition of her
claims to our gratitude and admiration. She is not faultless in her
method, but she differs from other great American prime donne in the
important particular of possessing voice enough to fill an auditorium
larger than the average minstrel hall.

At present she is filling NIBLO'S GARDEN with her voice and its
admirers. We go to hear her. PALMER and ZIMMERMANN, clad in velvet and
fine linen, flit gorgeously about the lobby, and are mistaken, by rural
visitors, for JIM FISK and HORACE GREELEY--concerning whom the tradition