On the 27th of November last Mr. Chappell was honoured with a command to exhibit the powers of this new instrument before their Majesties, his Royal Highness the Duke of Sussex, and a small circle of nobility, at St. James’s Palace; when it gave so much satisfaction, that some of the pieces played upon it were repeated by command, and the whole performance lasted from nine o’clock till past eleven, when the royal party retired.

(We quote the preceding from The Harmonicon, a Journal of Music and Musical Literature, of high promise.  Its recommendation of The Aeolophon may be allowed to rest upon the character of the Journal for critical acumen.)

* * * * *

THE SKETCH-BOOK.

COACH COMPANY.

(For the Mirror.)

Returning (said my friend Mrs. S.) once upon a time, some fifty miles from a country visit, a few difficulties regarding my conveyance to town were at length decided by my taking a seat in the ——­ Telegraph.  A respectable-looking, middle-aged woman, in widow’s mourning, was, I found, to be my companion for the whole way, whose urbanity and loquacity, combined, soon afforded me the important information that she was travelling over England, in order to take the advice of several of the faculty touching the case of “a poor cripple—­a gentleman—­a relation of hers.”  A gentleman!  But scarcely had I taken another survey of the honest dame, in order to assure myself that she at least was not a member of the aristocracy of Great Britain, and thereby to instruct my judgment as to the actual rank of him whom she designated by so proud a title, when I was favoured with a long history of “the lady who lost her shawl, which I found—­and she has visited me ever since.”  A lady!—­and a lady, good, agreeable, and condescending, no doubt; but—­the query occurred to my mind involuntarily—­what kind of lady must she be who would “come oft’n to take a cup o’ tea, or a sup o’ sommat better, wi’ me, in my poor little place?”

I confess, this voluntary information, not less than the tone and language in which it was delivered, prejudiced me so little in favour of my companion, that I took up pencil and paper, and was shortly wrapped in the most agreeable reverie.  Briefly, I was in the exquisite Land of Faerie:  I beheld the beautiful little people; their tiny feet twinkled in the dance; their small arms waved lightly and gently; and their perfect forms were miniature models of all loveliness and grace;—­the rosy blush of affection tinted the delicate cheeks of the fair; their eyes gleamed, like the minute gems which cluster around the ice-plant;—­and lo! a pair, as far different from these as is darkness from light, now peered into my face, and a voice, very unlike the blissful tones of the gay music of Faery Land, exclaimed,