y she goes, with--

THE ROSE UPON MY BALCONY

The rose upon my balcony the morning air perfuming
Was leafless all the winter time and pining for the spring;
You ask me why her breath is sweet and why her cheek is blooming,
It is because the sun is out and birds begin to sing.

The nightingale, whose melody is through the greenwood ringing,
Was silent when the boughs were bare and winds were blowing keen:
And if, Mamma, you ask of me the reason of his singing,
It is because the sun is out and all the leaves are green.

Thus each performs his part, Mamma, the birds have found their voices,
The blowing rose a flush, Mamma, her bonny cheek to dye;
And there's sunshine in my heart, Mamma, which wakens and rejoices,
And so I sing and blush, Mamma, and that's the reason why.

During the intervals of the stanzas of this ditty, the good-natured
personage addressed as Mamma by the singer, and whose large whiskers
appeared under her cap, seemed very anxious to exhibit her maternal
affection by embracing the innocent creature who performed the
daughter's part. Every caress was received with loud acclamations of
laughter by the sympathizing audience. At its conclusion (while the
music was performing a symphony as if ever so many birds were warbling)
the whole house was unanimous for an encore: and applause and bouquets
without end were showered upon the Nightingale of the evening. Lord
Steyne's voice of applause was loudest of all. Becky, the nightingale,
took the flowers which he threw to her and pressed them to her heart
with the air of a consummate comedian. Lord Steyne was frantic with
delight. His guests' enthusiasm harmonized with his own. Where was
the beautiful black-eyed Houri whose appearance in the first charade
had caused such delight? She was twice as handsome as Becky, but the
brilliancy of the latter had quite eclipsed her. All voices were for
her. Stephens, Caradori, Ronzi de Begnis, people compared her to one
or the other, and agreed with good reason, very likely, that had she
been an actress none on the stage could have surpassed her. She had
reached her culmination: her voice rose trilling and bright over the
storm of applause, and soared as high and joyful as her triumph. There
was a ball after the dramatic entertainments, and everybody pressed
round Becky as the great point of attraction of the evening. The Royal
Personage declared with an oath that she was perfection, a