ustifying the fervent enthusiasm
which they excited. It was no unnatural combination of splendid
sinuosities, of small notes split into hexagonals, and attenuated into
tremors that were 'no great _shakes_' after all, which entranced the
audience; it was full, rich tones; it was melody, harmony, that won their
loud and almost irrepressible applause. We have not yet had the pleasure
to hear VIEUX-TEMPS, the distinguished violinist recently arrived among
us. His numerous friends and countrymen in the metropolis rank him even
above OLE BULL. We are inclined, however, to trust the comparison made by
an eminent brother-artist, who assisted at his first concert:
'VIEUX-TEMPS,' said he, 'is a very accomplished _artist_; but OLE BULL is
a magnificent _genius_.' We shall have something to say of VIEUX-TEMPS,
ARTOT, and Sig. CASSELA, in a subsequent number of the KNICKERBOCKER,
should time and occasion serve.

A SECOND 'RALPH RINGWOOD.'--We have a western correspondent, a 'man of
mark' in his region, and far from unknown elsewhere, who has seen a good
deal of the world, and whose entertaining epistles always remind us of the
graphic '_Experiences of Ralph Ringwood_,' as recorded in these pages by
WASHINGTON IRVING. Here is a fragment of youthful reminiscence, fresh from
his mint, 'which it is hoped may please;' and if it _does_, we will use
our 'selectest influence' to induce him to write out for us a series of
papers containing his complete autobiography, which we have good reason to
believe would overflow with romance and strange vicissitude: 'I was
raised,' he writes, 'as we western folks term it, in a small village some
fifteen miles from Boston, and when about sixteen years of age I paid a
visit to the metropolis for the first time in my life. When I first
arrived there I spent some hours in trying to hunt up an old play-mate who
had been bound apprentice to a Boston mechanic some two years previous. I
could hear nothing of him, however, and so gave up the search. But one
day, while sauntering down the main-street, and wondering at all I saw, I
suddenly encountered a strange sight. It was _a sheep_, dead and dressed,
but moving along the side-walk in an upright position, and apparently
without help! Puzzled at this phenomenon, I turned round as it passed me,
in order to observe it more closely; when to my astonishment I discovered
a boy behind it, who with the sheep on his back was shuffling along the
walk, stern-foremost. I