waving banners that seemed to fill the
whole space with movement as they were
borne slowly up the aisle. These were the
standards of the competing choirs, headed
by the cantonal banner of Lucerne; they
were finally deposited solemnly in the
high carved pulpit, and were so arranged
as to resemble a colossal fan of many
colours. Then the singers were marshalled
in. They were ranged on a broad, solid
platform, sloping gently upward from the
spectators. All the choirs, with the
exception of the Cecilia Society and Liedertafel
of Lucerne, who did not compete, but
merely sang on a kind of hospitable and
friendly footing, entered at once, and
stood on the platform during the whole
performance. As it came to the turn of
each choir to sing, its members advanced a
little and stood in a semicircle facing the
audience. In the centre of the semicircle
thus formed, was placed the conductor of
the choir. In several cases the numbers
of the choir (drawn from some tiny village)
were so limited, that it was evident not
one voice could be spared. And then the
conductor beat the time with one hand,
heId his music with the other, and lustily
swelled the body of sound with lungs
which, if occasionally indiscreetly zealous,
were invariably sound and strong.

The performance commenced with a
Festgruss (festal greeting) sung by the
Liedertafel of Lucerne. The singers were
stationed, not on the platform, but in the
organ-loft: so that they faced their guests,
and were thus manifestly addressing them,
rather than the general audience.

It is not our aim to write a musical
criticism; and we shall therefore refrain from
any attempt to decide on the respective
merits of the competitors. One or two of
the choirs were so immeasurably superior
to the others, as to leave no room for
discussion. As a mere musical performance,
the whole concert was decidedly below the
average mark of such exhibitions either in
Germany or England. But it was impossible
to look on it from a solely artistic
point of view. The mere aspect of the
singers suggested a thousand interesting
considerations and errant fancies. Face
after face met our eyes, homely, weather-
beaten, coarse-featured, ugly, but breathing
of open air and scorching sun and keen
mountain blasts. How many a winter's
night, when the thick white snow hushed
every footfall, and frost made the wild
torrents dumb, had the pine-built châlet
vibrated to the sound of rustic voices,
singing and soaring, and sending out circles
of sound into the blanched mountain
wildness, even as the fire and lamp sent forth
rays of light from the uncurtained
casements! On how many a spring-tide morn
and summer evening, had the music of
Mendelssohn, and Mozart, and Schubert,
echoed along the mountain pastures, whilst
the tinkling cowbells and bubbling streams
made a subdued accompaniment to the sweet
part-songs!

The words of the part-songs did not harp
on many varied strings; but they were all
healthy in tone. Many of them were
highly poetical. The chords chiefly
appealed to, were patriotism and love of
nature. There were also, of course, several
love ditties. But in each of these the
writer expressed a vivid sympathy with,
and admiration for, stars, and flowers, and
forests, and wild birds; and made the
landscape take the colour of his mood, according
as his wooing were gay and prosperous,
or sad and pensive.

The numbers of each separate choir varied
from a dozen — or, probably, in some cases,
fewer — up to thirty or forty voices.

From Grütli, where the famous oath was
sworn; from Altdorf, where Tell shot the
apple (our belief in which apple we are
resolved that no accumulation of human
testimony shall shake); from Zurich, proud of
her fair lake-mirror; from many and many
a hamlet, whose very name would be strange
in the ears of English readers; the singers
had been gathered together.

One after the other the choirs stood
forward and sang, gaining more or less
applause.

An incident occurred which is worth
recording, and which may be considered
touching or comic, according to the reader's
point of view. Ettiswil (can that appalling
school-boy who knows everything, oblige
us with the exact latitude and longitude of
Ettiswil?), poor little Ettiswil, was
represented by the smallest of all the choirs.
Mere peasants, hard-handed, and weather-
tanned, they stepped out from the crowd
on the platform, and ranged themselves in
a half-circle to sing. Their conductor was
a sanguine-complexioned eager man, boiling
over with zeal and energy. He was also—
and this proved to be unfortunate — the
principal tenor of the troupe. The piece
they had selected was a part-song,
"Evening-shine in the Woods," by Schmölzer, and
it contained a few bars of solo for the first
tenor. What with his zeal, and the heat, and
the exertion of directing the time with his