circonstance. Monsieur Schezer propose to give de song; but it require
much vat you call stage management: all must be silent as de grave. It
ver pretty morceau."

The applause at the end of this speech was very great. Signor Pacini
bowed, till his face rivalled, in its hue, the rosy under-waistcoat in
which he rejoiced.

Schezer stepped forward. He was attired as a mountaineer. His hat
tapered to the top, and was crowned by a single heron feather. Hussars
might have envied him his moustaches. From his right side protruded a
couteau de chasse; and his legs were not a little set off by the
tight-laced boots, which, coming up some way beyond the ancle, displayed
his calf to the very best advantage.

The singer's voice was a fine manly tenor, and did ample justice to the
words, of which the following may be taken as a free version.

"Mountains! dear mountains! on you have I passed my green youth; to me
your breeze has been fragrant from childhood. When may I see the chamois
bounding o'er your toppling crags? When, oh when, may I see my
fair-haired Mary?"

The minstrel paused--a sound was heard from behind the pavilion. It was
the mountain's echo. It continued the air--then died away in the
softest harmony. All were charmed. Again the singer stepped
forward--the utmost silence prevailed--his tones became more
impassioned--they breathed of love.

"Thanks! thanks to thee, gentle echo! Oft hast thou responded to the