WHEN steam first conquered the Atlantic, and the Sirius and Liverpool came puffing up the Bay, in the very face of the good Doctor Dionysius Lardner, who had conclusively demonstrated that it could not be done, we all threw up our hats and declared that the ocean was now really bridged, and that Europe was but a suburb or neighboring ally of the great, free, and enlightened republic.

shrugging his shoulders, or tossing his hair, or rolling his eyes; but if you have heard him play the Adelaide of Beethoven, or the fantasia from Don Giovanni, you will surely agree that he conceives the music and sympathizes with it, as it was intended by the composers. Does Mrs. John Jones do more? Then naturally when you go to a crowded room, and sit and suffocate as if you were in a vapor-bath combined with the stocks, and hear him play the same pieces you heard him

and warm, and don't care to come again. But you
must remember that he is giving concerts to make
money, and that he plays the music which he knows
is popular and pleasing. He is not performing to
you every evening; but if you knew him, and he
would come into your parlor, and with the same
grace, and elegance, and tenderness, play the mu-
sic that you most love to hear Mrs. John Jones
play, do you think he would do it any the less
skillfully and satisfactorily because he would do
it "perfectly ?" Is it the playing you do not like,
or the circumstances of his public playing? Pos-
sibly it is the latter-is it not probably so? Don't
agree if you can help it, dear Lady Urania; for
if you are still unconvinced, you will write once
more to your loyal
EASY CHAIR."

This was true-but it was a truth in the future tense at that time. Now it has become present. But being long used to the steam bridge, and busy-play the evening before, you are tired, and vexed, ing ourselves with "cutting under" it with a telegraph, we have failed to remark that the lines of the allies have at many points been blended-and that, thanks to the steam, many a-luxury and delight has become common to both sides of the sea. Given to the contemplation of nature and the study of man as this Easy Chair is, it was impressed recently with the fact that New York-which our neighbors call us provincial for calling metropolitan-has yet several very substantial claims to that name of metropolis. There are London and Paris, for instance-which the most vindictive provincial will concede to be metropolises-they have been growing and flourishing for how many years, and they have at this moment no better music, for instance the crowning grace of a metropolis-than this little Manhattan mushroom of ours, if that term shall be considered more faithfully descriptive than the other m. In one of the brightest and loveliest September nights we had in New York, at the same time, an opera company, of which Frezzolini was prima donna, Vieuxtemps and Thalberg, king, each, of his instrument; and we had the most airy, finished, and elegant of comedians, Mr. Charles Mathews. As we rolled up Broadway in the cheerful gaslight and bumped against the swarming mass of passengers, and beheld them pouring in, not only to the concerts and dramas of these famous people, but to the performances of Miss Heron, of Mr. Murdock, of the Ravels, of the many minstrels, foreign and domestic, we felt that the steam bridge had done its work, and had made the old and new worlds faubourgs of each other.

Of one of the kings, Thalberg, we spoke when he was first here. When he came again, a paper said that he did the same old things precisely in the same old way. It might have added that the things were popular and the way was perfect. Urania writes to us, that after she had heard the great pianist three or four times, she did not care to go again-that it was perfect, but perhaps perfection is a little tiresome; and that on the whole she would rather have Mrs. Jones-Mrs. John Jones-come and pass an evening with her and play the domestic piano, while she darned the paternal stockings.

OUR venerable friend Solomon Gunnybags returned several weeks since from his summer tour. The alarming aspect of "affairs" cut him short in a little progress he was making through his native land, and he gave cars and steamers no rest until, as he said, he "touched bottom again" in Wall Street. Fortunately he touched bottom without going to the bottom-a truth which it would be very difficult to our accomplished friend, Professor Roemer, to render into intelligent French or Chaldee, yet which is a truth nevertheless.

The family Gunnybags were chagrined and indignant at this precipitate return.

Going home in August," said Miss Gunnybags. "Oh! papa, papa!"

"And I haven't yet worn my new muslin à l'imperatrice," cried Miss Bell Gannybags, bursting into sobs.

But both of the young ladies at once perceiving the enormity of the situation, met it bravely by asking in a breath,

"What will people say ?"

Who are "people," of whom we dwell in such eternal terror? Have you ever seen "people ?" Have you ever heard "people say" what we are constantly in a panic lest they should say? If you go to town in August whose business is it, except the cook's and chambermaid's-and the lover's, of course, Miss Bell, if he happen to be tied to town by business? What have "people" ever done for you that you should square all your conduct according to the view they may happen to take of it? Are "people" your particular friends? Are they a highly moral and exemplary, simple and honest class, whose judgment would be a real condemnation? Do "people" care for you, except as you care for ballet-dancers, and naughty novels, and the preaching of the Rev. Leek Todley, and other "DEAR YOUNG LADY: Your feeling is natural; things that amuse and excite you for a moment? but there is another side to think of. The great No. Miss Gunnybags and Miss Bell Gunnypianist seems to understand thoroughly the char-bags, you know very well that "people" are just acter of his instrument--to know what it can do, and what it can not do-and he plays accordingly. He does not try to help the "expression" by

Who would not write to the lovely Urania if he could if in any manner he could invent a pretext for doing so? But she requested an answer to this note. With her own ivory hand propelling a swan's quill, she asked that we would reply. What a happy morning that request gave this Chair! With a golden pen upon satin paper-as tenderly as if it had been writing happiness upon her heart, instead of advice in a letter-it wrote:

the men and women who are least worth attention. The women have small waists and no hearts at all; the men are dandies and dull. They are a set

of fashionably dressed, idle, vapid gossips, who | bloom of an English summer seemed to have floated haven't sincerity enough to be positively bad, but to these shores. Now among those red leaves and who sip sin at the edges, and die of the poison cool airs of autumn, let us repeat the comfortable without having tasted its sweetness. It is a mat- words of Goethe: ter of profound concern what such "people" think of you, isn't it? It is a sad misfortune if they should happen to "wonder why the Gunny bags went home in August."

Of course it is easy to say they haven't governed rightly; they have played the despot; they have not counted Sepoys as more than material for musket-bearing; their Superior Courts have not declared them citizens; the men of Oude and Cawnpore were little better than Dreds; white England gathered rice and rupees, and lived on curry and chicken, while copper India sweated and fumed, and gradually stole into the knowledge of a Tribune philosophy. And the philosophy taught them what it will teach all savages. -to slay their masLet that be your autumnal reflection as you set-ters and violate their mistresses, and spend a great tle into your Easy Chair to recall the summer's campaign.

civilization, and must go to the wall. It is a pitch- | India, and held a piece of intrenched ground at ed battle between Christianity and all its horrible hypocrisies, and its tyranny in the name of God, and barbarism, with its devilish cruelties, and its weaknesses, and its human, thrilling outcries for mercy and kindnesses.

But after all-impugn the civilized master as we will, compassionate the down-trodden Sepoy as we will there is no blinking the fact that the great advancing tread of humanity is represented by the Briton, and not by the Hindoo; and therefore we must hope and we must count for the triumph of England.

Semi-jealousies and all fault-findings in detail blow away like wind-driven chaff when we measure the vast results of British influence upon the millions who slay their children, and burn their widows, and use no fat, and worship the Grand Lama.

Let us not forget that we are in Switzerland, in the valley of Chamouni, warming our toes by a cheerful fire in the parlor of the Hôtel de Londres.

There was an Englishman sitting here an hour ago, who has a son and a daughter in India-perhaps at Delhi, one of them; perhaps at Lucknow, the other. God help his sleep to-night! For the news has just come in of that fearful massacre at Cawnpore. Nor are they feeling easy in the cities southward. A Calcutta merchant, in a private letter, talks in this style:

Cawnpore with one hundred and eighty European soldiers, against about 12,000 of the mutineers, and the troops of a native Rajah, Nena Sahib, a doubledyed villain, for upward of a month. The brave old fellow was wounded in a sortie, and died soon after in our camp. The men lost heart, had no provisions, no water, and but little powder left. They capitulated with Nena Sahib, who allowed them to go into boats which he provided, but immediately afterward opened fire, and those not drowned or shot were dragged ashore and cut up. The whole of the inhabitants of Cawnpore, about 300 to 400, who went into Wheeler's intrenchment, shared the same fate, including Lady Wheeler and her daughters; the wives and children of the officers and men of her Majesty's 32d Regiment; Mrs. Lindsay and three grown-up daughters (came out last December); four or five young ladies who came out last cold season; twenty-six members of one family (the Greenways and Turnbulls, very old Indians), and many others. Yesterday's report was that Nena Sahib had selected five ladies for his harem, and had kept about thirty more as hostages, should we lick him; in which case, I suppose, the scoundrel's life will be saved to recover them.

This is the chief who had previously massacred 180 men, women, and children, at Futteyghur. On the river below Cawnpore bodies of five and six Europeans, tied together, have been seen floating down."

Here again, an officer writing from Neemuch (we can not undertake to say where that is) says: "I sent my wife and children out of camp on the first; the outbreak took place on the night of the 3d; the firing of two guns was the signal, which occurred at about half past eleven. On the firing of the first gun I started to join my wife, in company with Dr. Cotes and the sergeant-major of the cavalry. We arrived at Sadree, a walled town some twelve miles from Neemuch, where I was delighted to find my poor wife and children. For some day's past we have not had very favorable accounts from that place. The mutineers consisted of about 2000 men. Just fancy all these demons in open

"I do not consider even Calcutta over-safe, and think all women and children should leave India in our present perilous times, although I do not apprehend any outbreak but what could be speedily put down. We have a good lot of troops in the fort; the volunteer guard amounts to 800 strong; and the seamen in the river would form another thousand-awkward customers with muskets and cutlasses. Besides, we could muster 1500 more Christians who can fire a gun, and we are all more or less armed; in the face of which I do not think our Mussulman friends would like to try it on. But that the feeling of insecurity pervades all classes may be gathered from the circumstance of the Governor-General turning out the other night at twelve o'clock, with his aids-de-camp and body-revolt seeking to murder every European that came guard, and riding down to the Bank, when a heavy gun was fired off, supposed to be a signal for a rising, but which turned out to be a war-steamer's mode of apprising a pilot that she was getting up steam. The fact is the people have no confidence whatever in the government-they see such a want of vigor and precaution. Thousands of arms are sold weekly in the Calcutta bazars; small bodies of armed natives meet outside the town; and yet, although this is pointed out to the powers, they 'pooh-pooh' all idea of danger, as they have done in every instance until this hydra-headed conspiracy threatened to destroy them. I suppose they are fearful of hurting the feelings of the natives! They ought to disarm every body but those having a license to keep offensive weapons. One of the head government officials, who lives in the suburbs, and has to pass through one of the principal bazars, sees every morning fellows bringing their tulwars (swords) to the armorers' shops to be ground and sharpened; but 'it is not in his department.' Notwithstanding, I do not expect 'a row' down here, unless any thing should go very wrong ap-country."

Of Sir Hugh Wheeler, the same writer says: "He was one of the finest and bravest officers in

within their reach. Through the intervention of Divine Providence all Europeans have escaped with the exception of the sergeant-major of the artillery's wife and her three children; they butchered her, poor woman, in a fearful manner, after which they put her children into boxes, and set fire to them; you can realize the result. The brave little woman shot two of the demons with her husband's gun, which fortunately happened to be loaded at the time, and was in the act of reloading when they cut her head off. We saved a portion of our clothing, but nothing else. Captain W.'s wife joined us at Sadree only half dressed. She happened to be undressing for bed at the time of the break out, and was obliged to fly in that state. The poor woman is expecting her confinement every day. The destruction of property at Neemuch, public and private, has been immense; at least three lacs of public, and one of private; twenty-seven bungalows in all have been burned to the ground, the best part of the Sudder Bazar destroyed, and all public records. The Rana of this place has behaved remarkably well to us, fugitives as we are: he sent the whole of the women, in fact the Aboe party, on elephants, with a strong guard for their protection. 1 hope I may

never see the face of another Bengal sepoy, except the guides of poor Jacques Balmat, the first who on the gallows."

The vengeance of the London Post takes an economic form which is worth stating: "India is peculiarly fitted for a general system of railroads, and a government rail would pay largely, not merely in a pecuniary, but in a governmental sense, in the immense advantage of prompt communication, in the ready conveyance of stores, troops, and munitions of war from one extremity of Hindostan to the other. Nowhere can railroads be made so cheaply and so useful for development and defense. Such of these vile mutineers as are spared might be dedicated to the service of railway labor life. Let gangs of them be organized on a military principle, and let them labor the rest of their wretched lives, chained together, for the benefit of a people against whom they have perfidiously rebelled. Such a spectacle would operate as a punishment and a terrifying example, and do more to destroy Brahminism than all our missionaries."

It would appear, however, that they are accomplishing something in a more prompt way. A clergyman of Benares writes home: "The gibbet is, I must acknowledge, a standing institution among us at present. There it stands, immediately in front of the flag-staff, with three ropes attached to it, so that three may be executed at one time. Two additional gibbets were erected, with three ropes to each, but they have been taken down. Scarcely a day passes without some poor wretches being hurled into eternity. It is horrible, very horrible! To think of it is enough to make one's blood run cold; but such is the state of things here that even fine, delicate ladies may be heard expressing their joy at the vigor with which the miscreants are dealt with. The swiftness with which crime is followed by the severest punishment strikes the people with astonishment, it is so utterly foreign to all our modes of procedure, as known to them. Hitherto the process has been very slow, encumbered with forms, and such cases have always been carried to the Supreme Court for final decision. Now, the commissioner of Benares may give commissions to any he chooses (the city being under martial law) to try, decide, and execute on the spot, without any delay and without any reference. The other day a party was sent out to Gopigang, some thirty miles distant, to seize a landholder who had proclaimed himself rajah, and two men said to be his ministers. The three men were surprised and taken. They were tried on the spot by a commission composed of five military and civil officers. After a short trial the three were condemned to be executed then and there. The rajah and the others protested they were innocent, and appealed to the Sudder (the Supreme Court). They were told there was no appeal to the Sudder in these days. To their utter amazement and horror preparations were made for their execution before their own door, and before the sun went down they were executed. ever may be thought of such doings one thing is certain, that these executions have struck terror into the hearts of the marauders in this district, and have done much to awe them into better conduct. Roads near us in which people were hourly plundered a fortnight ago are now quite safe."

found his way to the summit of Mont Blanc.

It was in the year 1786. He was an adventurous peasant of the village, chiefest among the mountain guides of that day, and infatuated in his search for rare minerals at the feet of the crags and among the glaciers. Saussure, of Geneva, had offered a reward to the man who should first find a practicable path to the top of the mountain. Balmat, concealing his intention, had repeatedly wandered around the upper plateaus, taking with him a supply of provisions and remaining absent for days. Three times he had reached the Grand Mulets (now well known as the first night station), but the gaping crevasses, or the snows, or wind, had forbidden further progress. After two trials in the year 1786, once by himself, and once with four other guides of Chamouni, he succeeded on the third attempt, in which he was attended by a Dr. Paccard, a physician of the village.

He told the story in this style: "We slept between the glaciers of Bossons and Taconnay; and I had wrapped the Doctor in a blanket which I had brought with me from Chamouni; thanks to this, he slept soundly. At two of the morning there was a streak of white, and I roused the Doctor. The air was clear and cold, and the stars shining bright; and when the sun came out after a time, there was not a trace of mist. It was a fearful business crossing the glacier of Taconnay: there were crevasses bridged over with fresh ice that cracked under our feet, and there were precipices beside us reaching sheer down five hundred feet.

"Well, we reached the Grand Mulets and passed it, and came to the Little Mulets, when a fierce wind struck us, carrying off the Doctor's hat into the valley of Cormayeur. We were compelled to throw ourselves flat upon the ice to avoid being carried away by the force of the tempest; and the Doctor would only follow me, when I at length ventured upon my feet, upon his hands and knees. We had long and weary work of this, until I reached a little plateau of snow, from which I could see down into our village of Chamouni. My good woman had called some fifty of her neighbors together before the church, and these all were looking toward the top of the mountain. I raised the Doctor to his feet and waved my hat, and could see them waving their hats below in answer.

"I gained new courage now, but the Doctor insisted that he could go no further; so I left him lying upon the snow with the blanket round him. It was growing hard to breathe, and I had a feeling as if my lungs were gone, and my chest empty, I twisted my handkerchief into a cravat, and tied it around my mouth, breathing through the folds; this relieved me somewhat. But I felt a chill creeping over my lips, for want of breath as it seemed, and I was a full hour making only a third part of a league. I walked with my head down, the snow was smooth and hard, and I found I was What-treading on some point new to me, when I lifted my eyes and saw where I had come. I was at the end of my voyage. Dieu Merci! No foot of man or beast had been there before me. I was alone and had made my way alone, and was king of the great mountain.

How strange all this to us amidst the quiet of Switzerland! Only to-day we were talking with

"Then I turned my head toward Chamouni— breathing all the while very hard, and shook my hat upon my Alpenstock (for the wind had ceased now), and with my pocket-glass I could see the

With its multitude of glories, you may yet count upon your fingers the places you wish to lin"He died," said Balmat, "a twelvemonth ger at in Switzerland. Geneva is one: for there agone; and, though he read without his specta-you have the lake and the flashing sails, you have cles, he had infernally red eyes."

"The result of his exposure on the mountain, cultivated fields, the orchards, with leafy handfuls without doubt ?"