he trips laughingly and
carelessly up the stairs to the room, from which proceed faint sounds of
music, increasing to quite an _olla podri-da_ of sound as the apartment
is reached--for the musicians are tuning up. The beautiful duchess is
soon recognized, and as soon in deep gossip with her friends. But who is
that gentlemanly man leaning over the chamber-organ? That is Sir Roger
L'Estrange, an admirable performer on the violoncello, and a great lover
of music. He is watching the subtile fingering of Mr. Handel, as his
dimpled hands drift leisurely and marvelously over the keys of the
instrument.

There, too, is Mr. Bannister with his fiddle--the first Englishman,
by-the-by, who distinguished himself upon the violin; there is Mr.
Woolaston, the painter, relating to Dr. Pepusch of how he had that
morning thrown up his window upon hearing Britton crying "Small coal!"
near his house in Warwick Lane, and, having beckoned him in, had made a
sketch for a painting of him; there, too, is Mr. John Hughes, author of
the "Siege of Damascus." In the background also are Mr. Philip Hart, Mr.
Henry Symonds, Mr. Obadiah Shuttleworth, Mr. Abiell Whichello; while in
the extreme corner of the room is Robe, a justice of the peace, letting
out to Henry Needier of the Excise Office the last bit of scandal that
has come into his court. And now, just as the concert has commenced, in
creeps "Soliman the Magnificent," also known as Mr. Charles Jennens, of
Great Ormond Street, who wrote many of Handel's librettos, and arranged
the words for the "Messiah."

"Soliman the Magnificent" is evidently resolved to do justice to
his title on this occasion with his carefully-powdered wig, frills,
maroon-colored coat, and buckled shoes; and as he makes his progress up
the room, the company draw aside for him to reach his favorite seat near
Handel. A trio of Corelli's is gone through; then Madame Cuzzoni sings
Handel's last new air; Dr. Pepusch takes his turn at the harpsichord;
another trio of Hasse, or a solo on the violin by Bannister; a selection
on the organ from Mr. Handel's new oratorio; and then the day's
programme is over.

Dukes, duchesses, wits and philosophers, poets and musicians, make their
way down the satirized stairs to go, some in carriages, some in chairs,
some on foot, to their own palaces, houses, or lodgings.

III.

We do not now think of Handel in connection with the opera. To the
modern mind he is so linked to the oratorio, of