Chicago Daily Tribune Newspaper, December 8, 1872, Page 5

e e i ettt HILDREN'S FASHIONS, <Bomg Bad Characteristics of Amer- o i-rcan Qirls—-Their Mothers' = & Responsibility Therefor, fsiréei, Carriage, House, Evening, and - School Dresses for Young Hisses. | Baby Clothes---Boys® Suits---Ho- siery and Underwear. _ Misges ang children play so prominent o part in (:.he social farce of American lifo that it would be impossible to overlook them in the cbronicle of feshionable novelties ; their toileties, unfor- . bunately, in too many a mother’s estimation, be- - Ing a subject of far deeper consideration than theirmanners. Wethinkthis arisesinmanycases from thoughtlessness, end in more, perhaps, from a woman’s desire that her \k.ugkfer! shalp be a3 well—or perhaps we mmight more correctly sey as fashionably—dressedas their associates. It has 50 long been a generally received opinion emong certein people that ANERICAY GIRLS ara to be the principal consideration in_society, tobeleft perfectly free in opinion and action, that, when one suggests the propriety of their being accompanied in public by an older person, ke m 2pt to be looked npon as infringing upon - their rights and decidedly behird the sge. That - this does not obtain among people of the highest culture, i8 emphatically tro; but, in too meny cases, it Las become g widely-spreadevil. - At 16 - &young gixl should be freshas a half-blovn _ Tosebud, with the dew of a June morning upon its perfumed petals; but how often dowe find them insiead, with 2 Fancles 28 hoary - And gray as the world. ‘_A series of juvenile parties that sre fac- similes of the heated crushes at which older people engage in the wearisome pursuit of . pleasure; late suppers, incipient flirtations, and the freedom with which they are allowed to . sttend places of amusement in the evening with young men, unchaperoned, give us, instead of the modest, shy, moss-rosebud of a girl, the + flaunting marigold, who brazenly stares in the fece exch passer-by, until, in conduct and language, sheis scarcely distinguishable from Anonyma. Their high-pitched voices are heard in shrill sopranos in thestre, omnibus, and raile way-carriage, drowning with unceremonious ob- trusiveness the quicter tonmes of their clders. For this the gitls are mot %0 be blamed, but "the onus falls upon the mother. Whether, throngh thought- lessness, selfishness, or o missppreciation of her duty, she neglects what should be the supreme ‘business of her life, a proper solicitude in re- gard to the moral bealth of her children, in just 50 much does she contribute to the quota of for- ward, ill-mannered, objectionable girls of the nineteenth century. Full of health and animal epirits, which must have vt in some way, they are offered so few proper means of exhausting their superfluous vitality that they are often guilty of seeming indiscretions, that are merely <he result of an overflow of exuberant life. The mother, weary with her round of fashion- sble dissipation or houschold cares, grown nervous and_quernlous from_over-pleasure or over-worlk, shrinks with a feeling of pain from the vital redundance of her child, and, in her blindnese, is _sbsolutely glad when the door closes, and the girl has gone for a walk with some friend, equally thonghtless, equally fall of life, and eq ready for any mischief that moayturnup. How much beiter for the physical health of the mother if she had scompanied her dsughter, pired her megrims, freshened Ler pale cheel, and smoothed avay eoms of the lines of care, There might hoye been one less rufiie on ber child’s drees, or Mre. Somebody's reception ight have been neglected; but the incal- Tilzble adventage o the danghter might possibly overbalance thess omissions, With the art-galleries, the studios which &re now usually throvn open to the public one day in the weel and kindred places of resort, it is"probable tha both the adult and junior lady conld find enter- tainment. We hope the day will soon come when, thronghout the length and breadth of our land, American girl nnder 21 will not be found in public placesnnchaperoned. Ifmothers sould but realize it, it reslly looks a3 if their daughters had no one fo care for them. Whils the French go to one extreme, and consider the spinster of 40 cfifita ag unable to take care of her- self =as the miss of 16 we fio to the other end allow the child just emencipated from the nursery all the freedom which ehould on!é be granted to ma~ ture years and judgment. Give the young girls ell the fresh, healthful amusements that you can. Let their early dsys be filled to overflow- ing with happiness, as some ‘slight pre~compen- sation for the hours in which the grasshopper will be & burden. Let them learn to danco, to sing, to ride, Tow, and drive, but interest your- in their amusements, and, when they go to their dancing or riding lessons, either accompa- ny them or send gome relisble person in your place. ~Don’t overdose them with ‘sen- timental religion. . Thé _healthy child re- jects it as she “would poor whiskey, and, in unlimited _ quantities, it _ 18 not infrequently followed by the same maudlin, defenceless condition. Teach her self-reliance, 50 that, if necessry, she may travel unprotect- ed from the Atlantic fo the Pacific, assured of respect throngh her own frank, modest demean- or, and not, 18 is 100 frequently the case, annoy- ing the entire travelling public by her blatant self-assertion. Only a mother’s care can do this, and to it all other duties should be made subservient, until we get back cur sweet young . girls again, with their happy, laughing Taces, ealthy morals, and quiet manners, in lien of the loud-talking, street-flirting, obtrusive miss who too frequently infests all our public places. d now, * Revenous @ nos moulons,” slip back to our proper place, and detail the fiais of Fashion. ¥irst, we will consider STREET-DRESSES for these Emng Misses. In toomany instances, school-girls are only distin; ble from their mammss by the difference in their years, their toilettes being 8o exact & copy of those of their elders that they look likematrons in miniature. This 18 o pity when there are so_many simple materials that are much_better suited to them. Abroad, this distinction is very widely marked ; but, in this country, there is a tendency to amal- tion in more ways thau omo. Cachemires are especiall protty for young girls. A dress of hmnz&greczh trimmed around the bot- tom with clternate folds of the material and & darker shade of silk, has accompanying it 2 polonaise, elso trimmed with folds. Thisis simply draped, with a sash to ‘match knotted at the left side.’ A sealskin cap, sacque, and gloves accompany it ; and the heavy Pt k walking boot is fnished at the to With & three-inch band of salakin. A lizard- green cachemire was trimmed with side plaitings of peacock-green silk. An Alpine hat, with a band and aigreite of peacocks” eyes, came with this ; also, 2 boa of chinchilla, and a muff of the dress-material, finished at the edge with chin- chilla, while 5 band and bows of the dress-trim. * ming were fastened around the middle of it. A dark, En{t& rdnem nédm_gfite, tmgdl wi%: chin- chills, andfastened wick oxydized silver buttons, completed this outfit. Tor % CARRIAGE DEE: or when Medemoiselle accompanies Meamms to . make visits of ceremony, there was & dress of ul- tramarine-blue sills, trimmed with rufiles, of the material and bands of velvet. An apron, with long sash-ends, was trimmed to correspond, and the_jockey-basque, which was fastenod in the b: had bretelles of velvet. A velvethat and a full et of ermine accompanie this snif. A grenst silk was trimmed with a broad kilt plait- ing aronnd the skirt, while the polonaiso was . cat in deep scallops, which were -bonnd with velvet and edged with very narroy Valenciennes, The half-flowing slecves wero finished in the same way, and held by bands and_bows of the velvet. A velvet vest, fastered with pentl uttons, comploted fho sus 4 frl of Vhlons cennes and a Swiss tie ehould be worn with, it 5 also, & Cavalier hat of grenat rllc and velvet, with ostrich-plume and velvet loops for trim- ming. A gris Loed ok bad t0 lower ekirt me tri i Each bies fold of ceriso elvot, Toae hagh on the eides with velvet buttons. ' A helt of cerise velyot was finishod with oxydizsd silver ohains and arnaments, while bretelles and sash com- pleted it. A secque of the silk, lined with cerise plush, having the collar and’ cuffs piped with * velvef, was cut double-breasted. Tt iad s square pockets, and supplemented this suis For E HOUSE-DRESS) thero aro 8ilks in fino raye s?’fipes, cachemires, THE CHICAGO DAILY TRIBUNE: SUNDAY, DECEMBER 8, 1873 ‘Biarritz cloths, poplins, and cheaper goods, Tho fine-lined silks, that cost 81,25 & yard, make uj very prettily for young iieses, trimmed wit bioa raffles o braids of relvet, their besuty con- sisting in their simplicity 2nd fitness, White al- paca, with_rose _color, cerise, or ciel-blue trim- ‘mings, is charming for evening wear. 'The ger- niture should consist of rufflcs or ruchings, and nover be elaborated into an imitation of the flouncings and puflings suited to more advanced vears. White fleecy piques are also worn in the Louse. For EVENNIG DRESSES, tarlatans, organdies, snd tulle seem to bo tho most in demand, A dress of white organdy, ruf- fled to the waist, has a sleeveless waistcoat of rose-colored silk, edged with silver {ringe, and & sash of rose-colored ribbon, fastened with & knot of lilies-of-the-valley. A dress, which had four skirts of white tarlatan, had the hem of each ‘bordered with a row of Marguerites, worked in gilk. The body wes round, and tHe slecves a fall pouffe. A'black velvet bow and ends was fzstened to the left shoulder with a bunch of Marguerites, while velvet bands passed from it across the back to the right side, where tho uppor skirt was caught up by them with & multiplicity of loops, ends, and flowers. A ‘nearly similar dress .was of tulle, worked with ~ forget-me-nots, with ciel- Dlue snsh and slippers. These are not worn over silk petticoats, but_organdy or Swies, and are absolutely etherial in their lightvess. A corn- colored organdy hada wreath of wild flowers em- ‘broidered on it, and was to be worn over a dark- scarlet sillc peiticost, A quaint dress was of French blue silk, with_a broad side-plaiting around the skirt, and a siceveless polonaise of blondin fouillard, with s tiny blueleaf brocaded onit. Itwasculawayin front, toshow a long Dlue vest, fastened with pearl buttons ; whild the sleeves, also of blue, werc rufiled at the elbow, and finished with tulle plaitings. Bronze- buskins, and blue and white silk hose in longi- tudinal stripes, were to be worn with it. SCHOOL DRESSES. The material most in favor for these seems to be navy blue cloth, trimmed with white military braid. - The underskirt is made plain, while the overskirt is an apron with sash ends. A loose blouse falls over tho belt, and is confined at the waist by an_ elastic band. It has broad collar and cuffs, with anchors worked on them, and is fastened either with navy buttons, fastenings of steel, or those of osydized silver. Plaidsara not_much worn, but a serviceable dress may be made from the dark green and blue clan tartans in large uneven markings. The underskirt should have.s wide box-plaifed ruffle, held by o band of black velvet, while the polonaise is cut in_gharp gaints at the edge, and bound with velvet, and has rolling collar and mousquotaira cuffs of velvot. A water-proof dress should always bo kept for stormy days. Itis more scr- viceable than the ordinary ciosk, and, when worn with it, keeps out the rain and snow per- fectly. Alpacas and Empress-cloths also make pretty school-dresses, but should be trimmed with tho same. Silks aro entirely unsuitable, are in very bad taste, and not only show & lack of culture when worn go inappropriately, but ‘betray a vulgar desire for show, or a wish fobase superior claims upon a mere consideration of wealth. Stolid, pockydenmatous gitis, the henvy-weights of the echool-room, may fancy their more costly attire and superfiuous bangles entitle them to bo considered only a little lower than the angels, and, a8 even & emall _gathering i but an epitome of tho whole social world, they will 10 doubt find sycophants among their compan- ions; but Lheg will have abont as much chance against our bright-cyed, intclligent ones, our Light Guard of the brain, as o lesden sword against a Damascus blade; 80, young ladies, plain dresses for the school room. Jaunty jack. ets of thick beaver or chinchilla cloth are cut double-breasted, and finished with & henvy cord. Felt hats, with plain bands and stiff wings, or sealskin caps, are the proper head- gear, while fur gloves will keep maonya littlo Tand from Jack ~Frost's unceremonionsly pzin- fol Ksses. A broad watered ribbon, with bow and ends, is fastened to the left shoulder of the jacket, and has » long_pieco attached, which is finished with o bow. This passes through tho muff, and is fastened on the right shoulder with & ghawlpin, Fur gloves will to a great extent, however, supersede the muff. For ISSES FROXM STX TO TEN YEARS, dresses of navy blua flanncl or serge are trim- med with a lighter shade of blue braid or Cash- more folds, have tho nsual blouse waist, and o eash of light biuo Cashmere knotted at the side, A pretty dross was of white Cashmere, tho skirf Iaid in Lalt pleits, while pn overdress of blue end hite striped camiol's b was simply sealloped, ‘bound with blue silk—sash and hair-bow to correspond. A more serviceable dress was of gy ashmore, made in the same way, with leck 2nd white striped overdress and rose- colored ribbons. The white, fleecy piques aro also_much worn by girls of this age. A charm- ing dress bad s petticoat of scarlet eilk, quilted in diamonds, With a gray ;mplin overdress, black ~velvet sacque, and chinchilla cap, ‘boa and muff. ildren's dresses are almost as universally made with a vest front as are those for older persons. Outside garments are both short and long. The long sacquo usually has a capo trimmed with bear-fringe. The material is soft beaver-cloth, lambs' wool, or chinchille. Hats, like those for older girls, are of felt and velvet, or & fur cap is worn. For. THE LITTLE ONES white is still the prevailing dress, even in the coldest weather, and in well-heated honses, with proper underclothing, is the_ prettiest, and is Buflicienily warm. Fleecy piques, and plain oncs trimmed with nansook ruffles, are the ma- terials used. The sash is usually carried from the left side to the right shoulder, and tied thero with long ends. The hair falls ‘loose, snd i8 held in place by a ribbon. The style of cut- ting the hair_straight across the forehead, so conspicuous in all the Gainsborough portraits, hus obtained fomeywhat, but not to o great an extent with the children as with their mammas, who have banged their hair in the drossing- Toom, while the little ones have banged their heads in the nursery. Walking-coats are made of velvet, fur, and Cashmere,—the Istter some- times elaborately embroidered. Velvet coats bave satin facings, and, with the Cashmeres, are made with plaited backs, instead of being g:refl. They just show the lower rufile of the ess. Normandy caps are comfortable additions to the wardrobes of the little ones. Theyreplace the hats, and fit closely 2nd warmly about the ears; are made of eatin and velvet, and are trimmed with lace and tiny feathers. Full sets of coneyand chinchilla arealso extreme- 1y fashionable, The French apron, made of nansook, still forms the prettiest overdress for children from 2to 5 years. It ismade both with high-necked yoke and long sleeves, and low-necked without Bleeves. In the first style, however, it is con- sidered the most recherche. Tiny white and striped silk hose are imported for these little ones, and high-heeled Pompadour shoes. The Intter, however, should never bs msed, or the little foot may be crippled, and its symmetry spoiled before it has escaped from the nursery. brosd-soled shoe, with & broad, low heel, is _the only suitable thing to purchago for children. It is scarcely wosth while to sacrifice to the whim of the moment the comfort of the child, and perhaps, at the same time, make it a martyr when it reaches ‘mature yenrs. INFANTS' ROBES. These, although of some white material, go through’ as many gradations of ornamentafion 2s those of c fashionable belle. Between the simple dress of tuclied nansook and the elabor- ate robe of needlétork and Valencionnes, there are mony intermediate styles. For every-dsy ‘wear, they are now frequently mado with high neck and long sleeves, while the christening robe is a marvel of pufls, medallions, and lace. The front is usually a tablier of lengthwise puifs and laco insertion, while the boitom is finished with medallions and broad Valenciennes. This, when the chila is taken to becleansed from original gin, is frequently worn over s pink or blue silk, is ornamented with rosettes, snd edorned with a broad sash,—all these being nec- cssary to o fashionable renunciation of *‘the world, the flesh, and the devil.” _Valenciennes- lacecapsare made over s wadded lining, while oy-babies sometimes wear eailor turbans of velvet and lace turned np at the side. Infants’ cloaks are of white cachemire, embroidered with worsted and silk, snd trimmed with fringe. They are mede in o long sacque with sleeves, and have a deep outside cape. Flanne] skirts are o yard long, and heavily embroidered, but & sensible mothex will only use these occasionally, if ot all. Short slirts, and dresses just covering the infant’s feet suf- ficiently to keep them warm, are perhaps not so graceful-looking, but much healthier. The child is more easily handled, and the delicate Little vertebrs not 8o likely fo assume the line of beauty, which, in this case, certainly proves a contradiction, or that extremes mect. ~ To pro- cure additional warmth, the underskirt may have the back-breadth made nn eighth of an inch longer than tho front, snd be bitoned up over it, thus Ieaving the child’s limbs full play; but in no caso should the absurd practice of pinning this _skirt closely around them be re- sorted to. Pretty littlo sncques, skirts, and shoes, in soft wool, help to keep up the neces- sary amount of caloric; and no doubt, if these il smirmaly coumd dessrilo their ferlings, they would designate this with unconscious, pro- phetic sarcasm, *a cold world.” BOYS' SUITS. Last, but not_least in his own estimation, es- pecially as his life progresses, romes that boy; for quite s period of his existence. Still, ho ex- ists, and con't goabout in a primitive stato; and, since he must be clothed, fond mothers like to know how to do it correctly. Until heis 2 years old, his dress does not materially differ from his eisters of the same age; but he commences at this early date the sume objection to ablutions which he efterwards anathematizes, longing for the time when he shall' be & man, and needn’t wash his face and hands. At 3 years of age, mothers who ‘want their bos to look like boys (although it is generally the paternal relative, especially in re- ghmi to his first-born, who anxiously hastens the advent of bifurcated nether finrments) mey use the Scoteh suit in place of the plain blounse. This he may wear until be is inducted into trowsers. The kilt skirt and vestare of some bright Tartan plad, and the jacket of black vel- vet.. A plaid scarf is fastened on the right shoulder with a rosette and thistle of oxydized silver. The Glengarry cap is of black velvet, tied with Scotch plaid ribbon, and the pouch is made of fur and trimmed with tassels. For boys of 5 or 6 years, the sailor suits in blue diagonal cloth etill preveil ; while, forolder ones, dark green and blue cro both used. The Alpine hat, Scotch cap, and tarpnulin are still worn ; but cold weather hos gmdncerlan epi- demic of sealskin and otter. Overcoats are of soft, thick beaver, cut double-breasted, with cither a velvet or fur collar. Scal overcoats are considered. au&aciafly distingue. Tall, slender boys wear knickerbockers, while, for the stout ones, the tronsers jusé cover the nee, and have buttons on the outside seams. Double-breasted jackets are worn with the knickerbockers ; and & jacket open at the bottom to disclose tho vest i8'the proper adjunct for plain nether garments. HOSIERY AND GNDERWEAR, Long stockings, reaching over the Imee, are worn by boys, and both longitudinally striped silk and worsted hose are shown for girl%; Theso aiso should reach above the knes, and be kept in place by elastics and buckles fastened to the waistband. Neither children or adults should evor wear an elastic around the leg, for, if tight enough *o keep the stocking smooth, it destroys symmetry and impedes_circulation. In our in- clement climate, flannels for old and_young are’ & necessity, and the drawers should always come to the anklo, being worn beneath the stocking, and reaching far enough down for the . top but- tons of the walking boot to come over it. Where leggings are not worn, bands of fur finish the boots. - Undergarments of knitted or crocheted Saxony or_zephyr wool have the merit of warmth,and elasticity, while fitting snugly. Those perseveringly industrious mortals whonever look at idleness from an msthetic point of view, who would be homesick in Heaven if there was no Berlin wool or astonishing patchwork to employ them, and whose _ideas of & glorions epic find oxpression in “How doth the little busy bee improve each shining hour,” or * Satan some mischief still for idle hands ‘to do,” might find in tho manufacture of these woollen gar- ments & useful employment for their hands. What o pity these dreadfully industrious people can't havo all the work, which they eujoy with such self-satisfiod bemoanings, and leave ‘“the rolling stones, that gather no moss,” only an occasiongl idea,—the sensuous Boul, to whom “dolce far niente™is Paradise, but who occa- sionally” astonishes the world with a brilliant thought,—to their ¢ awfnl shiftless ” ways. THE “SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL.” To the Editor of The Chicago Tribune: Sin: Like all others who read the papers, I eaw the announcement of Mr. McVicker's inten- tion of giving tho *School for Scandal,” with Dew costumes, scenery, eic. Afterwerds I saw the criticisms on the pérformance. They were all laudatory of everything, which signified to me that the critics had either not been near the theatre at all, which I believe 18 sometimes the case,~—they indorsing o bill of which they know nothing, and trusting to the ig- norance of the audience to eave it from protest,—or they had considered it easier, more polite, and more consistent with the wishes of the actors to appland than to con- domn. Asthe player looke upon the critic who praiges him as a fellow of infinite discern, a man to be cultivated, tobe irrigated with liquors, and to be called “my desr boy” in public places, to the end that there may bo a plentifal harvest of loudations. But he who condemns, is apuro ase. Hoknows nothing of plays, nothing of life. The actors frown. The actresses call him & perfect fright, and MoVicker looks askance. So, not being especially busied, T weat to the theatre to see for mysclf, and, having a free seat, had, as was only proper, & slight prejudice in favor of the management. The play belongs toa class which I like. One gets weary of tho “ crackling bombast™ of tragedies, and tho “ Darling girl, I love you,” and the * Ha! ha! " villain ! you are in my power," of melodramas. One likes to bear the natural and brilliant con- versation of Indies and gentlemen—to hear the wit .of Bheridan from the mouth of Coombs. But in that I wes dieappointed, for thero was miesing just pro- cigely what I wanted. The costumes are admira~ ble, the sccnery is all it should be, the play movel rapidly and without hitching, and tho music i8 brief ; but there excellence stops. The performers do not move like human beings, and they do not talk like them. Their voices are artificial ; and their laughter is now a cackle, nowa chuckle, now a_cluick, now an asthmatic wheeze. Itis thet abominable stage Iaughter which saddens one as much as the frantic laugh- ter of a lubatic, though ono is the child of idiotey and the vther of madnegs. Theirman- ners are not natural, and not in accordance with the times. * Nothing, if not natural,” is a senti- ment which is strange to them. I wanted to hear Sir Pefer talking to his wife, not Falsetto squeaking at Falseita; Lwanted to hear con- vereation, not declamation, not a ceaseless suc- cession of lzughter ; nothing like that which occurs when Sir Pefer and Sir Oliver meet, as if two laughing hyenas were to come togother after & hearty feast on man. Mr. McVicker, or the actors, have stuck close to the original text. The only deviations are that Moscs has & few things given to him to say, which smount to nothing ome way or the other. But, in the auction scene, there are a couple of excessively vulgar interpola- tons, one belng the knocking down of Jfoses by Careless, and the other the seizing hold of his neckcloth by Trip, who spins him off therewith, a8 if the son of Israel were a top, and his neck- erchicf s piece of string. However, these are spplauded, a3 are the buffoonish writh- ings- of "the wicti just as 2t the circus all scream with langhter when the Ring- mester lashes the Clown around tho legs with ’his whip. It is curious how the sight of simu- lated physical puin pleases audionces. If A slaps B, and the victim makes a wry face, there is loughter. But if A kicks B, and the latter Iimps off the stage, with his hands behind him, the audionce breaks into gusty mirth. The philosophy of this is not now under considera- fiqg, but itis a subject whereon much may be said. Miss Jane Coombs has an easy task—fora woman. In one scene she talks gcandal ; most women are born with o fancy forit. In another sho conxes ; ita a feminine gift. In another she scolds ; & woman's inheritance. In another she is penitent and loving; sn casy part. In another, she repels the wonld-be seducer ; that's easy for many women. She drosses well, and an actress in_eilk always attracts more than onein muslin. _She looks well, and folly from a protty mouth draws better than wisdom from a homely ore, 23 & grest many young lndies in Chicago can testify. She is affected; but she is not amiss in the country girl metamorphosed into”the lady of fashion. When discovered by Ter husband in Josfll’s room, however, shotells “her tale in the thrilling tragic voice, as if it were Anna Dickineon in a pathetic part of her lecture. 1t is not the tone customary on such occasions. But then 3Miss Coombs, never having been caught in such a pickle as Lady Teazle was, can- not be expected to know how to act naturaily, jnst here. B Her conversation with Joseph in his room culminates with his putting his hand upon her knee, whereupon she rises and draws back. This is out of place here. Joseph was not specially desirous_of doing much more than simply compromising Lady ZTeazle. This ges- ture comes in very pat where Tartuffe is talling with Elmire, and 18 congruous with all the ac- tions of the ‘“‘holy man,” but is quite un- necessary here. ‘Wero Miss Coombs poorer and homelier, were she o stock actor and not a star, it is doubtfnl ag she now is. The part of Sir Peter, which is given to Mr, Lanigan, is better and more evenly performed than any of the others. He gives occasional glimpses of nature end, tho real’ Sir Peter, but, unfortunately for himself and the sudience, theyare very rare. Itis the defect of this actor that he represents, nof the character he is et to plsy, but tho conventional “old man,” the abstract portraituro thereof as it sppears to the ordinary sefor. As pork, beef, and muiton all faste very ~ much alike at a common restaurant, and the cook docs mot sce why you should complnin, since the life and the nuisance of the house: a noc- | thev all faste like meat. o the father of Desde- essary evil,which might bo jndiciously suppressed . and position that lived at the .time whather sho would be praised as’ unhesitatingly |‘ mona, Sir Peler Teazle, and Farmer Price, though one is a stately Venetian nobleman, tho other an English ghent!enm} of polish and of breeding, and the other o plain ycoman, are all mado to talk and walk alike, and the actor docs not gee why yon should complain, since they all ‘'behave eccording to « preconceived notion of the way an old man” should. Mr. Lanigan hasassumed theclothes of Sir Peler, snd his wig, He has the outward and visible' signs, but not the in- ward and spiritunl grace. THo voice is that of Jacob, and not of Esan. If Sir Pefer's body- servant were to have stolen his master's clothes, and gone fo have & gay time at Ranelagh, he would have given a fnr%acter imitation than Mr. Lenigan hes done, because Mlr. L. has not at- tomptod to give Sir Peter at all, but simply his convontional #old man,” a thing which nover existed, cxcops upon the stage, and which is 28 unnat 2 character as Harlequin or Columbine. Having committed this error, and having set out by Playing some- thmgnuf. nssigned to him, he i8 beyond tho rouch of criticism, just precisely as one would refrain from criticising the prompter, were ho to simply read the finrh. If Mr. Lanigan ever at- tempts to play Sir Peler, then it will be time to e whether he succeeds or fails. Sir Peter Teazle was a gentleman of wealth t t when' men, though singularly gross in many of their habits, et generally assumed that dignified, and, to our Totions. ultra-polite manner which harmonized 80 well 1with their rich dresses and their elab- orste hair. In those days they still bowed. He himself, though be had married & young wife, was nob broken down by sge. He was uxorious husband, easily controlled by o * white wench's black oye,” choleric, impstient, and intolerant of confradiction; but he was mot senile ; ho was not in his dotage. The old man whom Mr, Lanigan and so many other_actors are continually portraying, is an individual pretty nearly bereft of his wits, and sinking into second childhood, especially when he has anything to do_with women. Ha beslavors the abject of Lis affections. A man may bo past his | hot and Justy prime,” and yet not go a-wooing s Smuggler does to Lady Lurewell. Thera are chanco _intimations of possibilitics of better things in some points in Sir Peler's interviews with his wife, but the scenes would be atrocious if the actor were really trying to play tho part asaigned to him, Thus, in the ** sereen ™ scene, it is very natur- a1, very right, possibly, for the conventional old maon to indicate the ~whereabouts of tho lit- tle French milliner,” by kicking back with one of his legs, pointing over his shoulder with his thumb, and uttering o slight squenk, Indeed, these gestures are sometimes found in the re- |- cesses of the provinces, and among the royster- ers of the Board of Trade. But, Sir Peter act thus! Tut, he would as soon have Put big thumb uato s nose, aud spread bis Sogers out. There was 8 tims when this charmed the gal- leries, but that is past. They must have stronger food. So why cannot Sir Lanigan Teazle,in tho afore-mentioned scene, in bis fit of uncontr olla- Dle mirth at Joseph’s depth, turn & double flip- | flap, and knock the screen over with his heels. New, neat, striking, and not a whit more out of place or more than disgusting than the leg- thumb-and-squeak business. ** Slap my vitals ! A very vulgar fellow.” Oné approaches Pendleton, alias Sir Oliver, with fear and trembling. He is beyond all com- mon rules. His play is no more to be compared with that of ordin: actors than the actions of TFrankenstein with those of mere mortals. He hasgone into himself, and has evolyed o creaturo which has & likeness to neither gods nor men. The critics speak of his laughter.ns being “forced.” It is a ridiculonsly-inadequate ex- pression, like speaking of Mont Blanc s quite & bhill, and yet lsnguage fails, when an attempt is made to portray that laugh. Occasiomally it somewhat resembles the sound which one might suppose would ensue if ahen, which had just committed 21 egg, were to fiy into the open mouth of tho Hon. John Wentworth, mistaking it for the door of tho Len-house, and, safely scttled in his stomach, were to keop ' on. cackling furiously. Mon, mad with revelry, never laughed thus ; devils never lnughed thus, as they rejoiced over ruined souls; the Bacchanals never laughed thus in their maddest moments, as they lacer- ated tho body of Orpheus, “When by the rout that made the hideous roar—" is a comfort to _ think that, when Pendleton dics, his laugh will die with him, ‘“and be interred with his bones.” But, whel Pendleton wakes up on the dreadful judg- ment day, bis Iaugh will wake up with_him, and will thrill the shuddering souls as it did su- diences nt McVicker's. And then—but this is :nticipnfin‘fi the courso of events. . Pendleton has two gestures. Oneis tho protrusion of the stomach, the other the stick- ing outof his bsck. The first signifies hap- piness, the secondanger. The philosophy of this 1s unknown. This conception is also original with Mr. Pendleton, and he uses it with great prodigality. When' Charles plenses him, - out goes the stomach; when he angers him, it comes home again. And since Sir Oliter's enun- ciationis not exectly what enunciation should e, these simple motions, which at first lead one to imagine Mr. Pendleton has a_pain under his apron, are of great servico o the audience, ns plainty indicating, from moment to moment, the chnngixl;g emotions of that worthy gentleman. In Mr, Pendleton's voice he is not 8o original. Ho may_have boen cradled in the lap of luxury, and coddled by soft-voiced dames, but, judging by voico, hio would appear to have dwelt for some_time with & sea captain_accustomed to Toar down the winds, snd with a Methodist Elder who_uttored pious sentiments with a seedy snuffle and o decayed twang. These influences acted on the plastic mind of youth, and Pendle- ton cmsued. Sir Oliver ' shines peculiarly when he meets Sir Pefer. Would any one take it for a couple of English gentlomen meoting after a long absence? No, it might be Methueelah, advanced in life, coming across Abreham after a separation of a few hundred years. It mightbo u.nything but what it ought tobe. And then the hand-sheking! Fancy o couple of town puaps shakinghands to the tano of the tolling of the church bells, the water dripping slowly meanwhile from their venerablo nozzles.” Srys the First Pump to the Second Pamp,—that is, 5558 Sir O, to Sir P., etc., ete. Mr. O'Neill, who takes the part of Charles Surface, can do better. He has in him the stuff of which good actors are made, but, befors he can get ot it, he must purge, he Mmust 5o through the herzlfurnu:e, and’ havo sll his giggle burnt out of -him. No school girl, no young lady with 0od_teeth, over giggled more. One cannot 1magine a situation in life in which Mr. O'Neill would not come up giggling, nothing which would not serve him a8 & peg whereon to hang & laugh. It is well to veil a lack of memory bya iggle, and slur over the promoter's Tordaitta agly, but this eternal hilarity, whether drink- ingor dicing, or borrowing or wooing, is ont of place. Mr. O'Neill dresses well, and looks well, But he is not_yet the gay and gallant gen- tleman of a light heart and lighter purse, tho Sir Harry Wildsir of his dny. ilarity does not ;ulmd a8 if igfiflmfie lré)m “*the juice of Bur: ly’s_grape, the finest grape juice going,” Bt s it 55 kv inspired b_finpra el too apt, when delivering himselt of the few “noble sentiments” allowed him, to spesk them 28 hewould: “Wkat's banished but st free?” Whereat tho gallery applauds, and O'Neill is elated. Coy Nature is not yet his mistress. If he would only talk to “ Premium " s he would to & pawnbroker ! Has Mr. O'Neill nover known financial embarrassments ? Mr. Power has sn admirable part, that of Joseph Surface, but what a blank, what a plain of dulness:- he mokes of it! Criticize him! Criticize & whitewashed wall. To state Mr. Poer's porformance mathemetically, is simple ; his eguivalentis: — 0. Heseduce Lady Teazle ! ‘Why, he could not lead the most **sluttish spoil of upfimztm{xty " astray. Itisas if the “icicle that angs in Dian's tempie” were £0 go a-woo- ing. And then the screen scene! Can he feign Lgrplexjty no better than that? Let m moke lovo to fwo women, let them come together, and let him make frantic efforts to prevent a disclosure, then he will get hints. His manner when with Zady Teazle is of the words, wordy. The intentions of Providence concerning this Eunflomm ‘were very clearly de- fined. Reasonably perfect as to the legs, and by 10 means ill-favored, he was intended to bear banners in triumphal proceseions, shield and helm in battles, and salver and glasses at din- ners, But if he deliberately chooses to fly in the face of a well-meaning Providence, that is his business and McVicker's, . The part of Marig is & very eimple one. Sbe is a nonentity, put id to provide the scapegrace with a wife, and round off the play with a wed- ding and o eformation, ~ She is & goody-goody girl, who soys “oh fie” to the scandalous re- marks of the other ladies, and who, in the closing scene, haslittloto dobut to looksweet, and blush- iny gdenythat £he has 80 s0on promised Charles to be his. But, of even this little, Miss cAllister contrives to make nothing, An audienco, weary of the inanc langhter of Mr. O'Neill and tho gesticulation of Mr. Pendleton, would willingly accopt even moderate mediocrity, if she would furnish it to them, But sho, too, dissatisfied with the voico which nature gave ber, has succoeded in manufacturing one some- what similar to that wherein & high school girl zecites Sheridan's Ride. It has hysterical inti- mations in it, and she talks a5 if _sho wera trem- bling lest & waiter shomld spill some gravy on hor dress. At the close, she replies to Charles’ statement thet sho has promised, with the aix of o wirl disenvered by her mothet nigh come agein ¢’ the pickle jar, and taxed with designs on its cor tents, Al that is needed to mako the illusion campleto is for her to puther little finger in her ‘mouth; and say I never, ma!” Of Careless, it is necessary to say yery little, and that littlo not so very long. The other evening, the well-kmown auctioneer X, was in the house. What with dozing, and ontside ex- cursions between acts, he fudged uan;%vv_g:q well till he cameto the auction scene. on that was over, ho gob up and left, simply ob- serving that he never szw_such an_infernal porody in his life. If Mr. Careless will ense arise some foremcon, and betake im to an ouction room, he will ot valuable tuition, and will be enabled to hold the mirror up to nature s liftle more closely than he hoa done. Of course, the original AMr. Care- less did not go through the work like n_perfect anctioneer, _If anything, he exaggerated it ; but he did not dawdle through it. Ho had been drinking Burgundy. Does {hat make one pen- sive, most excellent Carcless? Docs xé :clnsko one fay “going, going, gone,” as a schoolboy wonld dec'figg “ good, %etter, best 2" ZLady Sneerwell is, on the whole, well enough till she comes to-the last sceno, when she dis- covers that Snake has_betrayed her, And thon comes a most lamentablo break-down. She says her words—** A villain! Treacherous to me at last!” Buthow ? Like a passionate woman, baffled of her love, and esposed before tho eyes of hor rival ? No sucking dove could coo out “villin® more gently than she. Why, sho seems to think it ill-bred to speak it with any emphasis. It comes out casually, as one might gey ¢ Honnah, somebody is ringing.” - ore are other parts, but they are.minor ones, and wo are not_accustomed to expect any articular brilliancy from those who take them. We look for a little dulness,and that is sll. The emotions of tho mind, howover, after listening to some of these individuals were abouf as follows: Eowley—Oh dear! Crabiree—Oh my! ir Benjamin—Oh gracious ! Trip—Oh Lord! So I went away from the ‘ School for Scan- dal” o littlo disappointed, and somewhat dis- gusted. and yet, aftor all, thore isnobody speeial- Iy to blame. The play drew well, and seemed fo satisfy the audionce. BcVicker probably made money by it, and that lets him out. Most of the actors cannot do better than they did. Good men cannot be had for the low wages they receive. The only fault to bo found is with two or three people who can do better, but for gome unexplained reeson will not. BEYE —_— - BEFORE THE BURIAL, Earih, lot thy softest mantle rest This wearled child to thee returning, Whoss youth was nurturcd at thy breast, Who loved thee with such tender yezrning 1 He knew thy flelds and woodlawn ways, Aud deenied thy humblest son his brother :— ‘Asleep, bevond our blame or praise, We yield him back, O gentle Alotlier | Of praise, of blarae, ho drank his fll, Who has not read the life-long story 2 And dear we hold his fame, but still The man was dearer than his glory. And now to us are left alono Tha closet where hisshadow lngots, The vacant chair—that was 3 throne— Tho pen Just fallen from his fingers. 4 Wrath changed to Iindnoss on that pen 3 Though dipped in gall it flowed with Honey ; One fiash from out the cloud, and then The ekies with smile and jest were sunny ; Of hato he eurely Iacked the art, Who made Lis enemy his lover : Oh reverend head and Christian Leart 1 ere now their like the round world over 7 Ho saw the goodness, not thetaint, In many & poor, do-nothing creature, - And gaveto sinner and to saint, But kept his faith in human Bature; Perchance he was not worldly-wise, Yet we who noted, standing nearer, The shrewd, kind twinkle in his eyes, For every weakness held him dearer, Alas! that unto him who gave So much, so little should bo given! ‘Himelf alonc, he might not eave Of all for whom his hands had striven, Place, reedom, fame, his work bestowed : 2Men took, and passed, and left hirs lonely j— ‘What marvel, if beneath his load, At times ho craved for—justics only! ‘Tet thanklessness, the serpent’s tooth, ‘His lofty purpose could not alter ; Toil had 10 power to bend his youth, Or make his Justy manhood falter ! From envy’s sling, from slander’s dart, "That armored soul the body shielded, Tiil one dark sorrow chilled his beart, <, “And then he bowad his head, and yielded. Now, now, wemeasuro at its worth THe gracious presence gone forever ! The wrinkled East, that gave him birth, ZLaments with every laboring river ; Wild moan tho frec winds of the West For him who gathered to her prairies The sons of men, and made each crest. ‘Tho haunt of Happy household fairies ; And anguish sits upon the mouth Of her who came to know him Iatestz. ‘His heart was ever thine, O South 1 Hé was thy truest friend, and greatest | ‘He shunned theo in thy splendid shame, e ptayed thee in thy Voiceless sorrow ; The dsy thou ehall forget his name, Fair South, can have no sadder morrow. The tesrs that fall from eyes unused,— The hands sbove his grave united,— The words of men whose lips he looked, Whose cross he bore, whose wrongs he righted,— Could ho but know, and rest with this { et stay, through Death’s low-lying hollow, His one last foes insatinte hiss On that benjgnent shade would follow ! - Peace! while we shroud this man of men TLet no unhallowed word bespoken! 4 ‘He will not answer thee again, Hig month is sealed, his wand is broken, Some bolier cause, some vaster trust Boyond the vail, ho doth inherit; O gently, Earth, receive his dust, 4nd Heaven soothe his troubled spirit 1 —Edmund C, Stedman in the New York Tribune, WWater Thicves on the Grand Canal at Venicee According to & _correspondent of the Swiss Times, great emotion has been caused &t Venice by the following act of piracy. The gondols belonging to the bankers M. Mosiero and Penso, whose offices are situated at the Bridge of Barratoria, not far from the church of Santa Maria della Salute, had just entered the Grand Canal of the Guideno, and was proceeding to- ward the island of the same name, where the bankers reside. They brought with them, as usual, the receipts of the day, placed in a coffer at the bottom of the boat, and that amounted to the sum of 110,000 florins in Austrian money, partly in specic and partly in securities. A clerk watched over the precious deposit. On reaching the middle of the canal the gondoliers snw approsching Vipera, manned by six rowers, The Vipera is & sort of canoe, long, light, and narrow, armed st its prow with an iron spur. Owing to its construction and its extreme light- ness, 16 glides on the water with great Ewift- ness. The spur with which it is armed renders it exceedingly dangerous for other boats it may happen to meet on its way, and its mse has, therefore, been forbidden by the suthorities. Tho Vipera is only admitted for regatta races, and it is also used by the Custom House officers for the purpose of pursning emugglers. On this _ occasion the Vipera snddenly rushed upon the banker's.gondols with such impotuosity that th violence of the shock threw the gondoliers—who, it is Inown, always row standing—into the water. Thirteen men, armed to the feeth, then sprang into the gon- dola, and without paying the lenst attention to the bankers, who gat trembling,with apprehen- sion, they seized upon the strong box, and in a inkling put it on board their boat. Two vig- orous strokes of the oar pub them at a safe dis- tance from their victims. Then _turning by the grand ecanal San Giorgio Mag- fore, and doubling the Cape of anta_ Marcis Aaggiore, the irates assed under the bridge of Ln Paglis, Petore tho Paiace of the Doges, and dissppaared by the Bridgo of Sighs in the endless windings of the lagunes, though the repeated cries of 4 Dalli | "Dalli ! al ladro 1" had et & great num- ber of boats in movement, and several, manned with bold and brave men, hurried in pursuit of the thieves, the Vipera wasgo much in advance that it was impossible to overtake if. On the following Bunday the guards of the Custom House found near Mestre the coffer opened and emptied of its coin, but still containing 40,000 florins of Government securities. The loss sus- tained by the bankerie, therefore,100,000 florins. Till now no traces of theso bold pirates have been discovered. S e D —Sometime ago there lived s gentleman of indolent habits, who made o business in the winter season of visiting his_friends exten- sively. After wearing ot his welcome in his own immediate vicinity last winter, he thought he would visit an old Quaker friend, somo twelyo miles distant, who had been an old school-fellow of his. On his arrival he was cordinlly received by the Quaker, he think- ing his visitor had taken much pains to come 8o far to see him. He treated his friend with great attention and politeness for several days, but as he did not see any signs of his leaving, he be- came uneasy, but bore it with patience till the ‘morning of the eighth day, when he said to him: 1}y friend, I am afraid thee will never visit me again,” *Oh, yes, I shall,” said the visitor; T ghall certainly come again.” ‘‘Nay,” said the Quaker, “I think thee will never visit me again.” * What makes yon think I will not como again?” asked the visitor. ““‘If thecdoes never leave,” said the Qualker, “ how cans’t thou Tho visitor left. “THE BLACK CROOK.” History of That Celebrated Leg- Drama. Its Conception, Production, and Profit ---The Transformation-Scens on Fire. A New York lotter to the Cincinnati Gazefte, zeferring to the new Niblo's Theatre, opened a few days 230, and to the fairy spectacle of “Leo and Lotos,” now being produced there, gives the following history of the leg-drama, 8o well known under the title of ““The Black Crook:" The Black Crook, which set New York and ths whole country into a discussion of its merits and demerits, has a romantic history. _As it was of the same sort 28 Leo and Lotos, and also of the White Fawn, and other pieces, the story of the wonderful production has & fitting place here. In the latter part of 1565, Hurry Palmer, who used to be known in Cincinnati, was walk- ing up Clestnut streot in Philadelphis, and en- countered Henry C. Jarrott, who had just come from Baltimore, Thoy fell into conversation, and adjourned to a noighboring oyster shop; I am not certain as to the orders which they gave to tho Ganymedo of the establishment, but em inclined to the belief that Palmer took o saddle- Tock fry vith amug of new ale, while Jarrett called “for a plain stew anda bottle of lager. “YWhat are you doing now, Hacry?” said Jar- retat, a8 they waited for the fulfilment of their orders. “Nothing,” said Harry, with that precise in- tonation for which he is famous; *not a thing, and I am looking round for something to do.” % That's just my case,” repliod Jarrett. * Sup- poso we get up o show together. How much money can you raise 2" # About ten thousand dollars.” ‘ That's my figure, too,” eaid Jarrett. ‘What do yon say to gotling wp something to trevl about the country with 2 3 “Agreed,” said Palmor, and just then camo the oysters, and temporarily stopped _ their months. They remained an hour or 8o in that restaurant, \and before they left it was decided that they would sail on _the steamer two days later from New York. Jarrott hastened to the Baltimore train to say good-by to his family and 2rrange his preparations for departure, Palmer telegraphed for & stateroom on the steamer, end next day he was in New York, where Jarrett joined him a couple of hours before the sailing of the stesmer. _ Arm in arm Jarrett, a long, lithe, and active brunette, and Palmor, & short, Btout, and equally active blonde, mounted tha gang plank of the steamer, and were 800n mov- {ng down the harbor and out upon_the ocean, & pair of modern Argonauts in search of the gold- en fleece. GATHERING THE MATERIALS. With no definite purpose beyond tbat of find- ing an attractive novelty, they arrived in Lon- don, ond began looking sround among the theatres. Tor several days they found rothing that suited them, and at 1ast came to Covent Gar- den. There was a showy performance going on. there, with & closing scene that reminded them of the Soven Sisters, though it was more gor- geous. After they Had locked at it, one of the pair suggested : % Suppose we buy this closing scene, get up & ballet col;:gany, end then show the two together. We can take if through the country, and it ought to draw.” £ Just what I was thinking,” said the other. They talked a while sbout the matter before go- ing to bed, and the next morning they opened negotiations for the machinery and properties of the scene, for which they were to p:g £300, the delivery to be made at the end of the month, when the piece was to be withdrawn. This pur~ chase was what afterward nfipea.red as the trans~ formation scene in the Black Crook. Then they seb aboat engaging_the live material for their ballet. They engaged a few dancers in London, ‘but could not find a star that snited them. Their plans were all settled to take this trans- formation scene und a ballet troupe to Americs, Tun it & month in New York, a fortnight in Bos- ton, and 5o on throngh all ‘the cities and large towns. Jarrett started for New York to arrange for a theatre for the first performance, and Palmer went to the Continent to secure the star performers. Jarrett arrived here and found Niblo’s Garden, under the management of Wm. Wheatleigh, the best for his purpose. It wasnot doing 2 good business, snd Whestleigh waslook- ing around for something new. Jarrettunfolded his plans, and it did not take long to ar- range a bargain, Jarrett, Palmer, and Wheat- Jeigh formed ”'%mnerehi , in which the money the two first had expended was to be set against the lease of the house. The receipts were to bo “pooled,” and, aftor paying expenses, there was to he an equal division of profits, THE BLACK CROOE. They were sitting in Wheatleigh's office, and had jast commenced negotiations when there was a rap at the door, and the attendant announced Ar. Barras, dramatic author, who wished to see L. Wheatleigh if he was not too busy. The ‘maneger hesitated & moment.. **Tell him I'm out—no, show him in ; he may have something that we want.” Barres came in and explained his business. He had written _and_just completed & play ‘which he called “The Black Crook,” and wanted Wheatleigh to produce it. Wheatleigh asked his price, and he nemed $2,000 2nd & royalty of 320'a night; or, 33,000 onfright. Ho was told tocallnext’ day, snd lesving tho manuscript after explaining some of its points, he went away. TThe two managers looked overthe manuscript. “ Nothmuch of apley,” said Jarrett, ‘*but the title is first rate and will do for our show. We can teke a few scenes from the piece and stickin the ballet, or rather stick the scenes in the bal- let. Ve can make the thing run six weeks, and we had best take this piece and pay him $2,000 and his rogalty. That will be cheaper than buy- ing it ontright.” arrett left Wheatleigh to complete the nego- tiations, and jumped on & steamer for England. Wheatleigh arranged for the_play, and wrote by the next_stesmer that_he had done so. Jar- tett reached London, _telegraphed to Palmer, who was in ' Berlin, to meet im in Paris. Thither they hastened; they met in the evening, and saf up until daybrenk, talking over tho plans for their campaign. Ina couplo of days they had everything satisfactorily settled. It was before the days of the Atlentic cable, and the only reliance was upon the mail. While they were talking over the business, Pal- mer suggested: * Let us make asurething of it. Youhave just time to catch the Cunard steamer for Liverpool. Gofor it, ses Wheatleigh, and teke the nest steamer back and help me cast_over the ballet troupe and machinery. Iwill have everything ready by the time you get here.” Jarrett assented, and in five minntes they shook hands and scperated. Ho canght tho steamer, and on o Tuesday forenoon at 10 o'clock: Tanded in New York. - In half an hour he was closeted with Wheatleigh, and in s few hours the time and all details of tke production of tho pieco were arranged. They took dinner together, and late in tho evening Jarrett went on board the ontgoing Cunard steamer, which was to sail the nest morning. PRODUCTION OF TIT SENSATION. In due time Jarrett and Palmer arrived in New York with their heterogenous materials for the great spectacle, and in due time, in August, 1566, the first performance cams off, and the house ‘was crowded—it is whispered that there was a great number of dead-heads and hired clacquers in the sudience, but the managers strenuonsly deny that there was anything of the sort. At all cvents there was vociferous applense, though there was an appearance of nervousness among some of the spectators when the corps de_ballet, with clothing fearfully sug- gestive of the Venus di Medici after a bathm red ink, made its entree for the ‘‘ Demon Dance.” There was breathlessness for a moment, but o ronnd of applause softled the timid ones, and the success of the piece was secared. The triumph of tho evenicg culmina- ted when the transformation scene displayed its wonders and opened mp & fairyiworld, such as had never before been known in America. “ I never imagined anything half &0 gorgoous,” seid & clergyman whohad made s surreptitious visit to Black Crook after it had run a fow weeks, 1T imagination has never equalled this, and I haye i:btu,ned & realizing sense of the new Jerusa~ om.” In the mansger’s office that evening, befora the opening of the doors, there was an anxions trio. Tha expenses of preparation hd far ex- ceeded the original estimate, and the firm of Jarrett, Palmer & Wheatleigh had very little cash to show. Before the sale of tickets began theyhad spent all they could raise, with the ox- ception of a single 5-20 bond of $1,000, to Which they clung as the fund ont of which the first weeld's enlaries shonld be paid. The 5-20 bond wos locked upin_the safe, and only tha threo managers knew of its oxistence. Had the piece failed, the salaries wonld have been paid on Sat- urdzy, the forfeit money for the foreign artiats, alre: deposited in Turope, wonld have been surrendered, the company would have been dis- missed, and the Blwi Crook would have been numbered .among the hundreds of theatrical wrecks that have ded it. The recepts'of the first night wers $2,000; for . | the sacond thav wara 23.100. and 80 they went on at an zverage of $3,000 for each performsnce of the first week. The managers had counted upon runnping the piece for six weeks, but on the flrst evening they concludedit would last two months. Next morning somo of the papers nssailed the performance. * Good for threo months,” said Jurreit, as he Tanced over the criticigme. On the following g\mflny & sensational prescher began to de- nonnce it from his pulpit, and his sermon was reported. “The piece will ran sixmonths,” exid Talmer, ss he read the sbstract of tho sermon; * put the fellow on the free list, and haves good sent for him every time he waats it.” Next the Herald assailed i, and the papers generally took mup the discussion. * We wilJ have 5 year of it now, 2nd quite likely a year and s halt,” said Jarrett; ‘¢ woe let ourselves in rather baaly by not paying Barras his price out- Tight, instead of giving him o royslty.” The Black Crook ran five hundred and s few 0dd nights, and netted $310,000 to its managers. Berras, tho author, received over $12,000 for his share. It was always considered & good joko by many persons to assert that the piece ever ’had an suthor, as it was little else than a string of ballet performances without any particular continuity, The name and incaniation scens ‘were about all that were ueed of the original icce a8 Barras delivered it to Jarrett ands Wheatleigh, and tho suthor has never yet quite recovered from his chngrin at the sad mutils- tion which the child cf his brain received. I am told that he hns repeatedly offered 5,000 to heve the piece produced as was originally writ- ten. It contained no ballet, or anything liko one, but was_simply 2 melodrama of tho sensa- tional and hobgoblin sort. The White Fawn was the natural successor of. the Black Crook, and cleared $85,000 profit. The subsequent rovivals of the Black Crook have: been profitable, snd bring smiles of delight to- the face of Zimmerman, the trcasurerof tho establishment. A BEAL FIRE SCENE. ‘There is a great deal of inflammable material- in & spectacular piece, and_the only wonder is- that theatres where these things are produced do not take fire every week or twvo. Every precan- tion is taken against fire at Niblo's, and during the transformation scenc, and in fact during alk tho scenes, the firemen stand ready to save the- house and its contents from destruction. The Black Crook was fortunate ; it was never on fire but once, and then there Ww2s no serious dam- 2ze. I cen tell the story best in the language of one of the attaches, who narrated i tome: “The house was full, and the curtain had risen on the transformation ecene. The thing- was unfolding slowly, the girls were all in their places; some up in the air, some at the fountain, some here snd some there, where they be- longed, and gverything was going on all right, whon some of the stuff st the wings took fire, and was blazing in & second. Palmer, Jarrett, Zimmerman, and the rest of us, were behind’ the scenes, looking on, Somo of the girls in tho- scene saw the fire, and wers ready to drop out of their places. Jerrett picked up & hammer and swung it as near to_one of the girls as he could without being seen by the audicnce. ‘If you move s muscle, L)l break your head in,’ ho Baid, and he shook thé hammer, and evidently ‘meant every word of it. One of the girls pear ‘me began to look pale, and I grabbed 3 wrench and threatened to knock her down if she stirred. I kept shaking it over her, and ay] the time looked out of one corner of my eye 0 see how the fire was getting along. There were Palmer end Zimmerman, 2ud three or four others, each. with & club, or hammer, or something of tho sort, threatening to pound the life out of the girls if they moved & hair’s breadth. Vincent, the stage manager, gaye & signalto the leader of the orchestra to stop the music. He did 50; and then the curtain czme down as slowly as if nothing was the matter. _The firemen had tho water on the fire end put it out. The blaze was pretty high before the curtain ceme down, but it was stopped in o minute or two. The sudi- ence never knew anything about it, but sup- gn!smi the blaze was part of the performance. soon as the curtain dropped, the girls began $o faint, and we had to sprinkle about a ton of them with water, and carry them to their dress- ing.rooms.” . REPENTANCE. Ho kissed me, snd T kme *twas wrong, “For he waa Deither kith nor kin § Need one do penance very long For such a'tiny little sin 7 ‘Ho pressed my hand ; that waso't right 5 ‘Why will men bave such wicked ways 2 1t wasn’t for a minute—quite— ‘Bat in jt there were days and days. ‘There's mischfef in the moon, I know; I'm positive I saw her wink ‘When I requested him £o go; I meant it too—X almost think, But, after all, Pm not to blame ; o took the kiss, I do think men Are quite without a genso of shame, I wonder when he'll come again | HUMOR. A man with a long head is not very apt to be headlong. : —* They fired two shots ot him,” wrota an Trish reporter ; ““the first shot killed him, but the second was not fatal.” E —1It is said that iron is & good tonic for debili~ tated young ladies. That may be so, butironing: is a better one. —A earcastic lady says the cnllfithing which keeps Lent is her bost sill: umbrelia. ~ —A sekret ceases to be s sekret if it iz once confided—it iz like a dollar bill, once broken. it iz never s dollar gin. _ TLouisville man is so opposed to capital gnunigbment that he can’t even tolerate paper- ngings. —g{'hgsWestem wits now call bigamy Utah- lizing the female sex. —The Connecticut woman who vomited & large eel says she feels o great eel better. —A Eansas law, we notice, gives mothers con- trol of their children. This 18 an admirsble law, and every family should have one. Without it, too many children have control of their mothers. —Worthy Pastor—* What, not remember your catechism, my boy! you're better fed than taugh, I think!” Boy—*‘Ees, sir! Youteachesme, but {ather feeds me!” —An awkward Compliment—2XMrs. Flirtington flquazfiahly)_“rm afraid you are_bored, Mr. oret! You would sooner be walking with some younglady!” Mr, Amoret (with native readiness and gallantry)—¢ O, no,lindeed, Mrs. Tlirtington. 81T much profer tho older ones I —Gentle Paternal Satire—Irate parent—‘O, yer don's want to go into business, don't yer! 0, yer want to be a clerk in the Post-horfice, do yer! Post-horfice, indeed! Why, you're it for ia to stend outside with your fonguo hoat, for people to wet their stamps against I —A_couple of Hoosiers, one of whom was named Trooth, recently had a little quarrel over the division of some corn. ‘Trooth was crushed to the earth, but he rose again and vanguish- ed bis assnilant, and the oternal ears (of corn) are his. R —Bargain—A ludicrons trepsaction in which aacb];:uty thinks he cheated the other. —Dr. J. used to relate that, on one of his visits to L'Hotel Dieu, having 2sked a patient how he did, the sick man answered: © A, doc- tor, I am 80 ill, that if any one came and toldme 1 was dead, I should not be estonished at all.” —A St. Louis parent, who happens to be blessed with & prodigel son, * rejoices more over one_boy that runs awzy than the wholo family who sponge their living of him at home.” —The poet of the Lynchburg News hasn't been particularly Jucky. Inan ode to his girl he says : * Keen is your gorrow ; but keener is my grief.” The compositor, who lost his under- most nickel on the top row tho night before, set up, * but keno is my grief.” L Mary— It seems cruel to kill 80 many ani- ‘mals for their far—thirty-six poor squirrels put to death to make a muff for us !” Emily—* Yes, itis cruel. Why didn’t the monsters take their sking off withont killing them 2” — A elderly gentloma was shocked to learn that every fashionable young lady carries-a paper to back her. i —A Maine paper tells s story of & ses captain, just roturned from a long voyage, who was told by a commission merchant the sad news that his wife had died. *“Wife dead!” said the capiain, “svell now, do you know I didn't think she wa3 long-lived. How's freights 2" —A father in Maine, fecling that a youn, man wes staying rather late inthe parlor, an wishing to give him a polite hint thereof, wert £0 the head of the stairs snd called ont: Here, young man, it it about time that you wero going? Do_you know that it is 11 o'clock, and that you are burning out my gas?”’ The young Ine Joft, and has not returned. out intending to follow them his hand. A gentleman remar] Thomsas was highly blamable. the lady (it was rumored she herad:a’w'-_?%‘rlxil the temgomry object of the great. painter's a:- J tentions), “no, not exactly—not 8o much ‘o blame,”'said she musingly. ¢ What!” ex- ¢l d_the gentleman, * you astonish mc! Not iolbhme for such conduct 2” ¢ No, not_so much,” was still the musing response. Toserton 3 fefond, mch bobir on ? Eir,” inf e ¥, o confoss the trath, T am firmly izflz;xlffa‘:i that the majority of {he women Would rathcr be courted and silled. than not be courled af il ™~