Salmagundi; or, The whim-whams and opinions of Launcelot Langstaff, esq. [pseud.] and others. By William Irving, James Kirke Paulding and Washington Irving. Printed from the original ed., with a preface and notes by Evert A. Duyckinck.

A CONCERT. 39
fundamental major discord; and so on from branch to branch,
until he reached the very top, where he sung " Rule Britannia,"
clapped his wings, and then-came down again. Like all true
transatlantic judges, he suffers most horribly at our musical
entertainments, and assures me that what with the confounded
scraping, and scratching, and grating of our fiddlers, he thinks
the sitting out one of our concerts tantamount to the punishment
of that unfortunate saint who was frittered in two with a handsaw.
The concert was given in the tea-room at the City Hotel; an
apartment admirably calculated, by its dingy walls, beautifully
marbled with smoke, to show off the dresses and complexions of
the ladies; and by the flatness of its ceiling to repress those
impertinent reverberations of the music, which, whatever others
may foolishly assert, are, as'Sbidlikens says, " no better than
repetitions of old stories."
Mr. Wilson gave me infinite satisfaction by the gentility of
his demeanor, and the roguish looks he now and then cast at the
ladies, but we fear his excessive modesty threw him into some
little confusion, for he absolutely forgot himself, and in the whole
course of his entrances and exits, never once made his bow to the
audience. Oil the whole, however, I think he has a fine voice,
sings with great taste, and is a very modest, good-looking little
man; but I beg leave to repeat the advice so often given by the
illustrious tenants of the theatrical sky-parlor, to the gentlemen
who are charged with the " nice conduct" of chairs and tables" make a bow, Johnny-Johnny, make a bow!"
I cannot, on this occasion, but express my surprise that certain amateurs should be so frequently at concerts, considering
what agonies they suffer while a piece of music is playing. I
defy any man of common humanity, and who has not the heart