Chicago Daily Tribune Newspaper, April 12, 1874, Page 10

10 T CHICAGO DAILY TRIBUNE: SUNDAY,-APRIL 1 9 18%4. - - — e THE ILLEGITIMATE. How It Is Supplaflting Its Legitimate Brother. A Teading Theatre- Manager's Opinion on the Subject The Variety Business--What It Offers | ©"* --Its Growth. Behind - the Scenes at the Adelphi, Seeing the Sights in Company with Billy Rice. How That Eminent Comedian Makes Up for a FPer- formance. And the Great Misfortune Which Befel Him. Doing the Trapeze for o Fifty- Cent Bet. £ Glimpse at the Minstrels. A very conscientious, able, and soccessful theatrical manager gave his verdict upon the imes s follows, a day or two ago : * Of course the house is light. Here's one of the strongest stars in the couniry—an admirable actress with an excellent repertoire. Bui I can't introduce the beer and cigar element into my theatre, and X muat Jook on and ecc thosa who czn pockoting tho money.” And what are you going to doabout it ? +Do 2" quoth he, “wiy keep on as] have done—keep on playing the logitimate and pey oxpenscs. It'll Llow over in a fow months, tnd jpublic taste will be satisfied. It's not the first time in my esperienco that the public have pitched acting to thro dogaand taken up with this £ort of vadoty business. Do you remember the _Canterbury Hall basement of a few yoarsago? It lived and fontikkod, and the people got all they {wanted, and after awhile sickened. Then they returned to the old stand-by, and the legitimato looked up again.” **And you expect the eame reaction sgain " *Ocrtuinly I do. It mustcome, and he whoso parse holds out long enough, will find he hes lost Littls or nothung in the long run.” “* And you would not think of switchingoff and trying to compete ¢ **Of conrse not. I'll hold to the business wa arein. Thq populer gale will blow fromanother quatter tiine encugh.” .. DECLINE OF LEGITIMAOY. t Mo recognizo the fact that the popular favor is to-day blowing from & quarter never before con- templated shows an honest and manly desiro to look thinga straight in tho face. The decline of Edwin Booth’s superb temple of dramatic art, and its leaee 1o Messrs. Jarrett & Palmer, the present stowards of the punlic, is not without weaninz. Tho forces of tho dramaaro expended for a season. The legitimato is tucked away be- neath the sheets to reet and recuperate. There are evidences of its weariness everywhero, and it is only candid to admit that it elumbers for swhile, TS SUCCESSOR. And what has taken its place, during that elumber ? Something that will amuse, without #ffort to the mind,—something that tickles tho seuses without disturbing the tranquillity of the intelligence,—amusement without instruction. i In short, the variety business.” 1t is not the purport of thie article to dilate upon the philo- | other side is dallness. It requires no littlo skitl sophical aspects of the situation, nor is it its' in- e Then the Laidon musit-j it sank inte tub disreputable, and £oon camg to an end, through the intro- duction ©f the waiter-girl sbomination, pnd tho variety business was chacked. This was sbout fourteen years ago. Since then it has been revived, and is now the most peying form of public smusement in the country. The American Theatre of Philadelphia, which had failed as a legitimato house, was converted into a variety-show; after which several smaller places in New York were devoted to this branch Of amusement, and Pastor & Duiler openod in tho metropolis. At aboat the eamo time tho Front Strcot Theatre at Baltimore and the How- ard Athenpum wore started. The business re- 1l eyatem came in, bus ITS FIRST INPLTUS . . from the opening of tho Tamumaony in New York in Jenuary, 1865. Now there are numbers of guch places all over the country. Tho Front Strect Theatre, Baltimoro, bas been in operation for six years. 'Fox's Theatre, Philadelphia, was built for varicty pnrposes, and is the largost thestro in that city. There are others in tho eams corporute limits, all prospering. The Howard Athepmum Las many imitators in Bos- ton, all of which are doing well. In New York tbe number of honses given up to this class of smusomont is surprising. The Grand Opera- Houso, Niblo's, the Olympic, the Lyceum, Pas- tor’s, and minor places, The Lycoum is to bo opened as a variety-house this week or tho next, while Bootl's mey or may not be run in tho eamo wey. From * positive statoments™ it ia probable that zooTH'S will be & “ variety-show " in shother way. The Lighest form of the legitimate, as cxpounded by Edwin Booth himself, Wwill be alternated with the spectacular and ilhe regular variety., But to continue tho list: 8t. Lonis has Mitchell's and Du{;la's, the Olympic having been restored to the legitimate, and recently eanctitied by the en- gagement of the grost Californian, John Mc- Cullough. Cincinuaii and San_ Francisco have each a large variety-theatre, and the latter many small oves of the lower clugs, with which this article has no association ; New Orleans has its Academy of Music, whichis a lofty title for tue samo sort of thing, nnd Chicago has two already, the Adelphi 2nd the Globe, the former by all odds the finest house given up to this class of enterlainment outside New York. AIBPLACED VARIETY STARS. Does the reader wonder that this sort of amusement draws more money from the people than high art? If so, let him ask Mr. McVicier how tho roceipts for Emmet and Stoddart com- pare, or put the question squarely to Mr. Gardi- Dor, who is his best paviug star. Mr. Gardiner will candidly roply—Joe Murphy. And what are Joe Murphy, and J. K. Ewmet, and Lotts, and Jobuny' Thompson, George Thompson, Miss Harriso, Little Nell, Katio Putnam, Jobn Allen, Lizeite Bernard, and othor * legitimato ™ stars of their order, but variety performers out of place, with more impudence and less ability than many of thoso who draw a enlary at an ordinary variety theatre? * Legitimato ™ managers have 10 right to complain becouse the beer and cigar houses have killed their best-paying stars. They have contributed to the cometary success of the varicty business by encouraging the shabby, shallow performers cnumerated above, whose highest conception is a clog-dance, and whose hybrid existonca was sometime a paradox on the stago. Thoy havo found their lovol in the variety business. They at least onght not to complain. A wider field is open {o them. They aro placed. It is troe that they and their imitators can no longer monopolize & wholo evening of hoydenism and broad ponsense; thoy glimmer for a moment on the variety stage,-kick up their legs, and givo place to a negro-minstrel singer, a_* serio-comic vocalist,” 8 gymnast, or a ballet. We havo bad something too much’ of these people. It the brief blaze of variety success will kindly con- sume them, the legitimate drama will be wonder- fally purified. Lovers of what is sincere, true. &nd beautiful in art will think kindly of the present season if it will save them the todiona troubles of a night with Joo Murphy, or an even- ing of “ Zip " and hoydenism. THERE I8 ONE MORE LESSON of the variety business which will not be lost to managers. Thore aro but eight or ten good tho- atrical stars wandering round the country to- day. Two hands will tell them all, from Janan- schel, Sothorn, and Neilson to Jano Coombs, “The present season will weed the fest out, and leave the ground freer for true artists. Perbaps it may bring somo to tho front who, like poor Aimeo Descleo, have been for years trying to obtain o recognition for their ments. Who knows? All revolutions bring about some good. THE MANAGER of avariety theatrestands upon the edge of a very unpleasant abyss. He thrends his wey between two chasms, a¢ it were, and his ground is some- times exceediagly parrow. Ho is often com- pelled to do s great deal of balancing. On one &ide yawns & galf of offense from a word, look, whether this is ta express their approbation of the perfidious ¢onduct of tho hero of the ditty, or to encouraga tho young lady to keep on, is of Bo consequenca. TIE PRIVATE. DLRESSING-ROOM. At this suprome moment, wlle the visitor is wondering Low it will all_como ont, whother be will finally yield and do the squure thing by the ~lady, or _basely leavo her to pine away snd marry the next follow, Billy seizes him with a salutation commencing: *‘ Say, cully, sherry in here,” and thue invites him td his private dressing-room. This is & wondorfal chamber—the abode of ge- nips. Around, on pegs, are hanging dirty clothes enough to keop a Chinese laundry in operation for wecks. The visitor mentions their unwholesome appeatance, Billy explaing that the dirt ia not dirt; it is high art.” It wounld never do, he urges, to Efi on the stage in 8 linen suitof spotless whiteness, because he wouldn't feel natural in thom. *‘Exkehcuse me " tie adds, overcome with sudden politeness, # wbilo I dovest myself of the huwiliating badge of an effete civilization,” by which circamulocu- tion he menns to proparo his visitor for tho re- moval of his (Dilly's) clothing. The visitor kindly examines the prints on the wall durng this liberation of genuis from the shackies of conventionality, “and in a moment finda Mr. Rice looking very fat and comfortsble in & snit of dirty brown Holland, his hair (aftorvardy found to Loa wig) standing bolt upright, and a collar of colossal ‘size strug- gling to conceal his face. He smooths out the rofractory paper, snd remarks, * Gents, I will now proceed to visit ‘Afric’s sunoy foun- tasins und (sings) India's coral strand,'” an operation which is watched gravely. A square picce of looking-glass hangs before him, o box of blacking is on tho dressing-table. ‘* First- class return to Timbuctoo,” says Mr. Rice, a3 he plunges his Lands into the blacking-box snd transfers abont half a pound of the stufl to his countonance. ** Change hero for Caribee, ima- laya, and the Mountains of tho Moon,” ko adds, and slaps on another coat of black. AMR. RICE IS A GHANGED AU or gesturo thst may bo disreputablo; on the 1o travel between them. Hehas nota wall-drilled tention to say that tho intarregnum in the suc- | corps of artista to rule, who at tho word of com- ceseion of art is @ good or bad feature of tho mand will follow out his most intricate manen- £oason,—mercly Lo sct forth in a pleasant way | Vres, but o squad of refractory individuals, each Bome of the facts which aro spparent to every- Lody who has had an opportunity to dive behind tho scenes, but facts which are not as familiar to the theatre-goors as to the eritic whoso busi- ness it i8 to peer into every nook and cranny of he drszna s it is oxhibited here. THE VARIETT-DUSINESS. Bricfly, then, what 18 the zim of the varioty- ‘business of tho best kind—for with anything bat the best this sketch has nothing to do,—what is | As exhibil its cbject, what its scope? 1n a word, tosmuse, to furnish a series of exhibitions of every posei- ble varioty, as illustrated by performers whocan | his peculiarities. diepiay thoir special excellences at the best. It wims to embrace tho whole field of the legitimate | under the in its lighter branches, leaving out, of course, 1hie mastive beauties of the higher works of art »~—tragedy, old comedy, and classical works in music and the drams. It aims to condenge, into . 3ne evening, the best features of & number of sxbibitions. Itdraws upon the legitimate stage | will readil of whom supposes himsclf or herself not a use- ful member of » company, but the condcnsed essence of sll tho merit of the company. Tho variety managor's daties are incalculable. Ho gupervises the house, tho bar, the stage, aud divides his attention between wine, wopen, weeds, beer, ballets, and heaps of other things. TEN STAGE MANAGER of & variety theatre isan extraordinary porson. tedin Chicago, heis & condensation. We shall be compelled to be very personal with one of these gentlemen, :and msko public some of Tiat previous to doing 80, wo will invite the reader to step behind the scenes ardianship of this excoedingly solid person. The reader who has followed with in- terest the several hundred thousand accounts of life behind the scenes of & theatre, writtea by 21l sorts of pevple, in all sorts of humor, and containinF sll gorts of truths and untraths, [y recognize the flats and wings, sham for farces and broad comedies, interrupting the | forests and pasteboard statuary, all of which he stream of broad merriment with an occasional dit of pathos, to ofiset tho sunshine of life | the curtain to be run, shadow as will | the visitor tolook roun . w®ith as Lttle the rerve the purpose; it draws upon the \yric stage for tho melodies which, if not the gems of modern composition, ate &t any rate nearer tho comproheusion of the masses; it rakes in the telling features of the megro min- stage for its ** olios,” and * burnt-cork wets,” sclecting from that broad platform the most popularacts; it even waylays tho circus and calls upon the othletes, the gladiators of of knows all abott. But as it is not yet timo for is up, Mr. Rico requoats TUE DRESSING-ROONS. On descending from tho stage, he takes you round boneath it into what looks like the seventh floor of s Dhotel reduced with & minifying glass. The first corridor contains the drossiug-rooms of the ladics, of whom thero sro sbout a dozen, arranging themselves to fascinate aud kill. Everything is very orderly and quiet hero, for the doors aroail modern dasa, whoso 1ifo liggs by as slonder o | closed, nobody being permittad to serutinizo tho thread ss in the days of Nero and Titus, to show | mysterics of color the peoplo eomething which shall catertain and | up stage boaut; {xl\l:l.zx.le them, while at tho same time it adds to 0 corresponds_ with lofty tragedies. best sceks to skim the cream from every pan, and to sorve it upin one vessel. The essence of it is essontially varioty,—an harmonious blend- ing of all the colors,—a perpetual kaleidoscopic the terroriem of the Arrangement, giving a novelty st every turn of | of the silver of speech. Tho changes must be neatly | dressing, »a may bo observed through the half- he instrument. exbibition & fringing of fear which | for *‘Jeunie, and form which go to make Perhzps & Load will bo caro- nd a call mada for the boy or or ““Frankie, " or somebody, but ‘pobody would beliove tho statoment that a dozen fally protrud The variety-business at its | of those lovely but voluble beinge were en- during stlence Liero. - ‘Passing along the main corridor, the visitor comes to tho men's dressing-rooms. Hero the silence is not Ao golden, boiug alloyed with much Tho gentlemen aro made. Everything must be short, sharp, and | open doors, and tho array of incougruous gar- decigive. The cream must boe cream, for your varioty audience, though not o highly intollact- ual body, is sharp to detoct skim-mills, especinl- 1y when it 18 a littlo sour. 'Lhis is the essence of the variety cotertainment—change and rapid- ity in change. WEY IT GAINS FAYOR. There exists an opinion that the variety-busi- ness owes its success to seususlism—to the legs of a ballet, tho toam of beer, the smoke of to- bacco. i “Utterly wrong,” replicd a notably-sncceesfal variety-manager to the writer, who suggested this thought.” “Ycan tell you, you are utterly wrong. Qur raceipts would showbut o trifling diminution if "the freo-nnd-ezsy systom worc dropped ; and s for legs—yon know that we have on)y played lsg:busineau occasionally, mn com- petition with other legs. Notatall. The best- paying, though not the best, variety-houso in the country is the in Borton, where the frec-aud-easy system is not allowed. It does not weigh a little bit. Toward Athenwum | that way, sud keeping out intruders. ments scattored about on’ the floors and walls of tho room or the person of the dresser. Billy stops to gossip with some of tho boys, and slang” them, only to bo slanged in return. Liko all mombors_ of the profession, these people take a delight in_threatoning one another with tho most dresdful mutilation, or imprecating blood-curdling dieasters upon their hearts and livers. At the eame time they exchange lights, borrow cigars, and ehake bands with great amiability, which only renders their threats of violence the moro diequicting. Oneis struck with the gaudiness of their attire. Here a gon- tleman of extraordinary nigritude is dazzling in crimson and gold, which, upon examination, is neither erimson nor gold, but & judicious mix- ture of both with dust and decay. Thero ia po drinking nor loud conduct underneath the stage; the colored janitor is siandwg atthe stage-door challongiug eversbody who comes in The visit- or is surprised to tind such good order hero, and inquires of Mr. Rica whether beer 13 drunk be- 11l tell rou my idea of the thing. The legitimate | hind. That effusive comedian repliesin & jar- drams 18 the rolic of a ine old cducational sys~ | gon of which the phrase “ histing bowls" is “tho tem, when the purity of lauguage and the educa- tion of the masses were mi‘ux:gnd by the stage. The tremendous daily press has rondered educa- tion via the drems 8 superfluity. Your daily pepers teach more in an issue than a month of the legitimate. Bhakspeare is for the study. Too much intellectual strain will not do. The People go to tha tlieatre nowadays to be amused, ot to loarn. ‘Thero is no sense in holding to it, [ebtheds the day of the drama is gone. Booth's ‘Theatre is lot to the foremost caterern to public amusement in the country. There ia an epitome ©f the whole movement. ~ Let me_ecall your at- taction to an extract in old, Popy's diary. . Ha 78 ho weat to sec * Macbeth * played, and then m upon the wonderfal ] r{ormany ps cer. And it is the srme Vot Ton people want to be amnsed to-day—not thaupper. ten. Do youknow whers the best orchestrs was £ be found short time ago? At the Alhambra, in London. Tblgm;sl never dreamt of such an o Za . Popular prices, popular amuse- ments, there is the eccret cf r.ucceaps." i INTRODUCTION IN AMTRICA. The variety business first came into this coun- try through the Germane, it8 principal fea- ) ed I bLasements The | part only intclligible fraction, and leaves an impres- sion that this *‘histing " is coniived to the front of the house. THE SERIO-COMIC. “Rill,” at this moment, yulls somebody up- stairs, and Bill rushes away with au invitation to follow. The curtain is to bo ruvg up. Bill looks at the schedule, roars out for the first por- former,—a ‘‘serio-comic,”"—and a_pause revesls that important young person. Bhe is clad in muslin and ribbous, her dress none too loog, and her cheeks evincing a glow of health, which nearer iuspection proves to be paint. Dy some law of stage dressing-rooms, the glow of health and ty has been placed near the ear, which accounts for the ruby color of that of the Indy's face. The orchestra has been at work for some time, but awaits the riso of the cartain. Thore is & clatter outside as tho audi- ence finds seats, and, amid the yells and shouts of Billy Rico to ““sherry” this, “ checse” that, and lp&ly some other comestiblo to somothing clso, ‘the serio-comic_skips gaily forth. She eIngs a heart-rending ditty of a cruel yOODZ man who refases, positively re- Jects, her charms, aud repudiates all Dromites proviouely mads, unfortunately | without witnesses, to remuin ber own true love . beiag composed mainly -dd3 Vooifeouaiy, Dai He is brilliantly sable. Under his and lips is a strip of uncovered flesh-color, which make his inouth look enormous, ¢ Protty creature,” he remarks, like a patrot, surveying himsell with admiration. * Come slong, cully, we'll sherry ont,” oud out Le goes. Ho gots very hoarse, and shouts preposterously at something, aud makes the most fiendish grimaces of disap- proval to some body on the other eide. There aro two or three ladies clustered around the stove, their dresscs are airy, and it is none too warm, even with the roaring fires 1 the great stoves ond furnaces. THE LADIES are mostly young, good looking, and abnormally developed. ~ Ono of them is sitting alone against a very florid pice of scenery which looks like & painter's palette of mammothsize, when too near tho eye, Bt develops into houses, trees, and dancing-girls, and the visitor is introduced to the *oporatic cantatrice” of the party. Tho ‘cantatrice” does not look like an operatic young lady, but expresses berself ploas- aotly, ond thinks it quite 8 nico evening, oxcept for something or other which the visitor dogs not hiear, when he is pulled from behind, and finds Mr. Lice struggling with & man about 6 feet high and supernaturally musculer. This iy AN ATILETE, who is turning Mr. Rice over and applying to him castigution, which would render standing the most agreenblo position for a time, but for & school-boy cxpodient of great autiquity. The athleto iy rejoicing in Lis strength. He takes a young woman in each arm, and seriously ~contemplates tossing her up to tho ceiling, but mercifully refrains from doing 8o, as Mr. Rice warns him his wife i3 coming up-stairs. Do Glarian (whoso nume is undoubt- edly Goggins) assumes an air of imperturbeble gravity, end offers tho lady his arm. Two negro minslml£ettormusa have just beon con- vulsing the sudionce, when Alr. Rice pauses in the middlo of an anecdote and BUSHES ONTO THE STAGE. ITo looks like a sick elephant contemplated throngh the wroug end of a toloscope, sham- bling along in a pair of shocs.that would have fitted Magog, had that person lived in modorn times. Ioars of langhter greet his performan- cos, Ho is talking the wildest nonsenso, and cutting the most unheard-of capors, which do not scem at ‘all funny from behind tho scencs, but convulse tho audisnce in front. A on the other eide of the stago are makini,- fon of their uafortunate manager, whose iro is thoroughly aronsed, and who 18 bareiy restrained from rushing across before tho audienco and choking them. Tho boy—probably the author of the mischief—sfands grinning. “Sheiry your nibs, you plessed young ruftian, or I'll do your liver an injury!" vells Mr. Rice, with ‘an astonishing knowledge of anatomy. (The opening remarks of this observa- tion have no reference to vinous liquor, nor steol-pens, being mercly 8 traditional stage rer)urence to tho knotty question of rapid tran- 8it). TOE APOLOGY. Tt becomes evident that Jr. Rice can’t go on 8a heis. The farce must be plsyed without him, when the visitor suggests, ‘Go on as_you are. Just say you'ro a little off color to-night, this boing the anniversary of your marriage, or the C\ltflfll'l}g of your wisdom teeth, or gomething elge. Mr. Rice falls in with the idea. TLe farce travels along emoothly till Mr. Rice comes on. Ho_ spologises in the languego suggested, and makes suothor hit: Everybody laughs. Mr. Rice ropeats the observation in his own lan- guage, at which the audience laughs still more. The farco goes on and the cartain, which has been up without once falling in three hours, descends, the audience, with customary Chi- cago breeding, having arizen long before from its seat, and being intent on reaching the door. Buch is a rapid sketch of ovents behind the scenes of & varioty theatro in an evening. _ Per- Liaps thero was more fun to tho privileged per- son who was allowed this viow of mattere than to the audience, but, such as it was, it was highly diverting all round. There are many incidents that might beintroduced to illustrate the free and easy, though always proper, management aud behavior of variety theatro people, but they would grow tedious, perhaps. Thero is ono which sliould be recordod, as it occurred only a day or £wo ago, and might have ended tragically. 5 YOUNG AMERICA. Mr. Grover has, amoug the employes of the theatre, & boy to run errands and do odd jobs,— nbriibt young follow about 14 years of age, with bluck eyes and_plonty of cheek. Young America had seen Lolo, in her flying trapeze act, swing bLersolf across tho auditorium and throw heraclf into tho arme of her bLusband or Dbrother-in-law, who received hor on the trepeze, bung 25 fest abovs the stage. Walter rid- iculed the feat, boasted that he could do . it, and made & G0-cent bet with another boy that he would do it successfully. Ho argued the matter with the darkey junitor, proved by logical argument that what a woman could do Youug Awerica could also do, and awoke his raanhood to sarm co- ope:ation. Tho darkey, it was arranged, should sit on tho trapeze above tho stage, whilo Young America should fly across, land iu his srms, snd win famo and 50 cents at one blow. A day was appointed and an hour chosen when the theatre was empty, ouly a few privileged people being let into the eecret. The darkoy climbed laboriously up to the trapeze and took his seat, while Waltor walked up to the gallery, unfastened the rings, and stood prepared, full of hope. ** Look out noy,” be criod, when all things were ready, “I'm coming.” He gave a little jump backwards to get & good impetus, sud flew through tho air. At the right moment ho let go. Such wae tho force of the swing, however, that he caromed on the darkey with the velocity of a cannon-ball,toppling tho ambitious Ethiopian from his precarious seat to the stago below, and coming himself in vio- lent collision with ‘the bare wall of the theatre, having traveled tbrough an angle of somo 60 dogrees with great rapidity. The Colbert pondu- lum could not have shaken the wall more thor- oughly than did Walter in his interrupted fight. He rebounded from the wall, and fell in a eit- ting posturo upon tho etage with a *dall thud,"” as they ssy in describing a bang- ing, and thero remeined.. The doublo thump shook the bar and box-oftice, and was the first indication that the Yruprictors bad of the new performance. Messrs. Clsnes, Rial, and others came out with a run, and found the dariog boy senscless. o was utterly stunned by the fll, and breattiod heavily. Frank Clynes immediately prescribed brandy, aad the cordial was poured down lis throat. It brought him to in a moment. He roused himself slowly from a sitting postars, looked reproach- fally at cverybody, measurced st a gianco tho distance he had traveled, and romarkod : T thought I was never going to stop.” < Its a conversation occurs botween the visitor and the ladies. Ouse bighiy-gorgeous little Jady, with a ravishing figuro which i3 displayed to groat ad- vantage in tights, is weeping. Sheis Lttlo moro than o child, and nnsophisticated, and tolls THE CAUSE OF HER SOBRO'W. 8She has recarved adetter from a bald-headed old man in the audience; expressing oterual passion, and praying for an appointment. Sbe oxplaina, betweon har sobs, that he has sought all sorts of dishonorable means to obtain o meoting, porse- cated her with letters, 2ent women to call upon her, sent cards up to her at tho hotel, and bou- quots and promises with great profasion. I liate him,” B2ys sle, rubbing he: ltile 1ot on o square box of resin, whose use will be presently explained. “To persecute a poor girl who has no friends!” Just then Mr. Rice rushes off, car- oms against her, and pts u stop to any further conversation. “ Out of the way,” saya ho, with an emphaesis on the first word which largo capi- tals wonld but fecbly express, and in a moment the great Do Gloriau, his agile brother, and pretty little wife trot out, make their bow, aud 70 thrcngh their hair-raising performance. The ittlo Iady with the graceful fignre—she is only 16—rubs her foctin the rewin with ronewed vigor, weeps and_denounces, till the Lolo has ‘made Lier leap and given place to another **serio- comic.” This latter is formed homeopathically, and is bright and witty. She woun't be mado love to, but scolds everybody who doesn't please her. Even the manager gots astab from her saucy tongme_occasionally. But she is singing, and the andience is lsughing. Sbe is narrating THE MISERIES OF MARRIED LIFE, and the gentlemen in tuo audience, not having their wives with them, can laugh all they want to. Sho gots an encoro, and roplios with a med- ley of nonsenge which is lughly relished. She is soon through, and o gang of stage-hauds rig up an invisiplo wire for the little dame who re- ceived the offensive letter, who presently makes her bow and is loudly cheered. She mounts the wire, and goes through an enormous number of feats. The uso of tho resi s now apparent. Without it, even ber dflicale senso of equilibrinm = would be useless. She lies down on the wire, executes a denuce, swings, and is about to leap, when _twang, thud, SIE HAS DROPPED. A dozen people rush ot from the wings to pick her up, but Billy yells out to them: ** Git back,” (cmphasis as bofore,) and she picks herself up, bows gracefully, and walks off tho stage. Sheis vory palein placesand limps. The audience 13 ex- cited. ** Goon, goon,” ehouts everybody, and the rpoor wounded little cronturo clonchea ber tecth and makes a good show of not being burt, which tho audience _vociferously cheers. Yes, sho has sprained her ankle. The stanchion that hold tie twire has straight— oned ont uader the strain, and hence the fall. She wanls to cry droadfully, and she doos cry. * Never mind, Lou,” they say, and try to pot her into good nuture. She will not bo comfort~ od, and loaves the utage fechng very badly in- deed. She will not bs 5o tonder twenty yoars houce, whea her pretty plump figure has become scrawny and muscular. The audiouce has forgotten all about the mishap on the wire, and is now giggling over the cccen- tricities of tho two song-and-danco men. Tho noxt picce onisa farce, and preparstions aro ‘making for its production. Scene-shifters ate busily engagad in arranging tha tlats, and the ladies and gentiomen ara gath- ering in readiness. AN INFORIATED MANAGED. Enter Mr. Rice, his face olongated like an addled Enstor-eggz. His nataral hair is stand- ing, 88 bis Wiz was a few minntes ngo. 1o is perturbed. He begina with & series of profane interjections. * Who in somawhere has been blank fool euough "—more interjections, more wild glances. Air. Rico stamps his foot upon the door. ilank fanuy, cally,” says Mr. Rice, with exquisite irony. Banguincously humorous, ho goes on to show. meekly oxtending bis hand and rubbing fis chops. * What is the matter? " quictly asks oue of the girls, a dark-eyed nymph with abbreviated skirts. * What's the matter with you ?” sneersthe stage-manager, with more cmphasis than r. “1'd jist Like to git hold of the clever duck who did it—no, I wouldn't,” eays he, ** oh, no,"” with an air of the ntmnost un- concern. “ Iwouldn't cat the blank Liver out of him, oh, no!” coatinues Mr. Rice. The visitor again persists, and succceds in ob- taining a roply. It appears that somo person maliciously inclined—probably one of the call- boys—has perpetrated a practical jest at the expeuse of the stsge-mansger. He has mixed tho palverized burnt-cork, not with water, but with lard, and the black on 3Ir. Rice's | classic brow 13 uuctuous and irremovable. “Your ticket to Africs i8 not a return,” eays the visitor; “whatare yon going to do about it?” The act is drawing npitfly to a close, Mr. Rice growa irate, He becomes voluble in doubtful Iangusge. Ho runsup and down the scales of profanity with the ease of an expert, first the chromatic, then the diatonic, snd winds up with 3 d— that shakes the stage, sud must be plainly audible in_front of the house. e neizes a small boy, and s2uds him out for a botile of &wees oil and essence of ti a- tine to res bis claims o the = aid of we C Regus bl The gins Incky thing for you,” said Prank, “that you didn’t come to a period in your ecarthly carcer, you young vagebond. Here, swallow the bal- anco of this, and go home.” Walter did not noed a second bidding, but iimped away, 8 loser in roputation and money, but & gainer in ex- perience, and a firm bellever in the divinity of standing for some days. Nobody had the Leart to spaik him, s he deserved. Besides, it was unnecessary. For 50 cents he had risked his meck in a feat which ferw men would even attempt for £50,000. Tho darkey alighted on bis head, and was, of course, unhurt, oxcapt iu thn matter of pado. Bus pilly, W aro l'fm on good suthority, always comes before a fal A MINSTBEL THEATRE. A less amusing, but scarcely less instructive, evoniug might be spent behind tho scenes of & minstrel thoatre. ere—we speak of the tidy little house on Monroe atreet—everything 18 o nest and orderly, that one is involantarily led to remark it aloud. The writer was prepared to_find things pretty comfortable amoug the good-natured bachelor performers, who are unseen by their audiences except in cork. It is unnecossary to give a sketch of the personnel of the gentlomen who compose this admirable company of negro melodists, because everybody knows them, aud respects their 8ys- tem of ruuning a minstrel house. But & word or two as to - THE ABRANGEMENTS bebind may be interesting. Arriving behind the scenes when thoy were preparing themselves for tuo performance, tho writer witnessed- the changes through which their countenancas went —from jolly red o funereal black in a minute. Indoed, but for the indly tutelage under which he went, and the hearty mannors of the com- pany, Lo might bave felt embarrassed at the lack looks with which they all greeted him. g Lis el- % Shake,” gaid ilr. B. Cotton, extendin bow. “Won't you walk into my parlor 7 3R, COTTON'S PARLOR is about four foet square, moro or less, hung round with oxtreordinary garmonts, such 8s that yivacious gentlomsu delights to oxhibit his form in to an appreciativo sudienco. * They told mo you carpeted your room with your small-clothes,” observed the writer, with & tinge of disappoint- mout. Br. Cotton’ repudisted such untidiness, and referred the speaker to the studio of Mr. Arliugton, wliers a fing picturo was presentod to in View. Arlington was in his shirt-sleeves. coat Wwas in & corner. A promiscu- ous heap of clothing and & dog lay in another corner. One-half of his face was black, the other half red in patches; kis ears wero mottled, and his bands very black. After removing these traces, he reached down ono arm for s garment, but grasped the dog. It was awkward for both parties, especially for the dog. Aslington, discovering that this was not his vest, lot' go, ond continued his dressing with occasional romarks. The _writor thought it o good time to inquire whether the injurious rumors he heard relative to 3r. Arlington’s combining tho stage with the blacksmith’s-shop wero true, to which he repliod affirmatively. * Then ‘ Shoo-tly’ will be altered to * Horseshoe-fly,’ " observed somcbody in the distance, Similar remarks waro made by other regretful persons. SIDE-SHOWS. The stage of Msers' Opera-House is ves large, aud gives tho performers & chance to iu- dulge in side-shows on their owa account during a performanco, Thera is & large opon spaco which can b6 used 23 a play-zround, and in which the youths of the company, from Cotton upwards, dalight to disport themselves. The performance i3 all 1 front, end visible to the house. Thore is nothing behind which is start- ling, as evervh uu s his place, und the per- formanco moves Jixe clock-work. Evorybody is ready in lis place, for Llr. Kemble is a rigid stage manager, and knows his business to a nice- ty. Hence theroare none of those awkward mistakes which occur in variety theatres. No one takes liberties here, and we doubt whether any theatre in the conntry 18 conducted with better discipiine or more scrupulous order than Arlington, Cotion & Kemble's minstrel-house. -— CHIDINGS. Gome and sit thes down beside me; Drive those slisdows from thy brow* 1f T'vs caused a thought of sadnsss, 1f T've wronged thee, tell ma how, 1 I've wounded thy fond spirit, ‘With 2 harah word pained thy b Tell me,—say that thou'lt forgive me; Let us not in anger part. Come and sit thes down beside mé; Lay your little hand in mine, ‘Whilo Love’s kindly light beams on me From those tender oyes of thine, Come! Nsy, do not frown, my darling,— 11l bocomes thea that sterh air; From thy eweet face chase that grieved look,— Naught but smiles should hover thers. If 1've caused one moment's sorrow, If I'vo pained thy loving heart, TTust me,—turn nol-soldly G the 3 Let uz not {0 anger part. Cumicaso, OwEX AL Wirsow, Ja. BONEMIANS, PAST AND PRESEAT. The Death of Ada Clare, Ex-Queen of Bohemia. Contrast Between Her Subjects and ihe Dress-Coat Litteratenrs of the Present Day. Writing No Longer a Romantic Occupation. Correspondence of The Chicago Tribuna. New Yons, April 4, 1874, Tho recent death, under very painful ciroum- stances, of Ada Clare, once QUEEN OF DONEMIA, has set the newspapers and people talking of the roalm over which sho ruled, which was once 80 gay and dazzling, and which is now peopled only with shadows, Neither kingdom nor sovereign now remains. The first waa disrupted by death and the hundred changes that Timo works; the Iatter, abandoned a happy but shabby royalty for the prosaic career of an actress, and eventnally proved her entire conversion from' Bohemian ways by bemng married. The manner of her death was too dreadful to recapitulate; and if really does not scem out of place hers to ask if there be not some limit which good taste potejon the revelations of the sick-room and the death- bed. Morbid curiosity will, of course, always find certain microscopic newspapers to gratify it but it really would seem that the line might ‘be drawn an this aide of hydrophobia, and that pity might have dropped the curtain st toe desath-bed on which the life of this once merry and beaatiful woman went out in such sgony and terror. S Short &8 her life was, there was much pleasurs in it, as woll a8 much eadness. She failed at’ novel-writing ; and what can be more dismal than that? Sho achioved a very modorate suc- cess as an actress; and that, to an ambitious wornan, is only tolerable when it is a8 question of bread, and, perhap, butter, if that is not too high. But she enjoyed the companionship of many men and women of wit and genius, and bad, beyond this, the satisfaction of being in- stalled their Queen, and adminirtering her little government eo snccessfully that there wero no rebellions and no taxes, though it is a matter of record that THERE WERE PANICS of such frequency and destructiveness among her subjects that the stringéncy of 1873 would scem as nething to it. Probably the only wa; you could ever have ruised any cosiderable amount of money in the crowd would have been to tako every man's noté for it, on the plan by which Maj. Jack Downing says the real-cstale traneactions of Downingville were conducted. Uncle No. 1 sold alot to Uncle No. 2 for $1,000, &nd took hisnote; No. 2 to No. 8, and took his note; and 6o oa through = succession of uncles, until No. 6 found himse:f in possession of a lot worth nominally $6,000,—and all this time there was not 250 in the whole town. So in Bohemis, as o prominent ex-Bohemian once told me, “There was not money cnough among all of ns to pay for drinks around; and yct a merrier, bappier crowd never cxisted.” The royal palace was dark and dingy in the day-time; in.fact, if the truth must be told, it was underground, and a lager-bier saloon at that. \Wo can well beliove, however, that Herr Pfaff ideal atmiosphere _for litteralcurs, New York will wrest from that city its palm of superiority. But my inflation of local pride carries me into strange flights. Ono of tho things I wanted to 8ay was, that tho writers and journalists have taken, of late years, to wearing dress-coats, and dancing utemfnncu at the elirine of Fashion and Mammon. I sappose they ought always to have o bigF and M—in a way that ngseta a good many of the old notions. Not only has John- sonian conversation disappearcd down the “ back-entry of Time,” but with it Lave gono other things we would rather have kept. If there ars nowadays gatherings of the wits and thinkers, where the keouest words are allowed the most room, and where young men ambitious of future distinction may look on and drink in- spiration, they are 5 KEPT 50 QUIET that not even the goseips loarn of them. The scribes have their two clubs, which keop up an active rivairy in the matter of * rocoiving” prominent people; and thera are enjoyable re- oeptions at well-known literary houses, where one may meot some of the pleasantest and most lccbmgliuhad people American Society can af- ford; but, even ot those plces, tho talk is all of o piece with that heard in all the drawing-rooms of less gifted pooplo. So far does it stray from the subjects in which it ought most naturally to move, and 8o little real solidity is there about it, that it sometimes seoms 2 if the old spell bonnd it that once fell on the corps of Vanily Fair. ‘When & price of 25 cents for a good joke was an- nounced, the editorial rooms, that had before resounded to many peals of laughter, were silent a8 the grave, aod every man Went about with compressed Jips, firm in the conviction that he inclosed within them at least 25 cents, and, made it superior to the memorable apartments of the Marchionoss, in which Mr. Richard Swiv- eller romaried, **'Tho marble floor is—if I may be allowad thoe expression—sloppy.” In this subterranean abode, the writers, actors and sctresacs, jonrnalists, and others who lived on thoir own aad other poople’s wits, gatherod and dinnk their lager-bier and ato their black bread and salt herring. The eamo survivor of Bohemianism referred to above haa many interesting things to tell of tho delights that crowned that gay and careless eustonce. Thera never were SUCH JOYOUS PEOPLE. ‘They not only took no care for the morrow, they took nono for to-day, or yesterday. Thoy lived C 1-13h litorally from hand to mouth; what they wrote they s0ld a8 £00n as the ink was dry, and set to work to eat and drink it up. Rainy days they thonght littlo of ; of all ovents, thoy laid up | write for oney nowadays to know that $3 was a favorite price for good literary work in those times. A good pieco for Vanity Fair brouglt 83 ; an excellent poem was worth £3, and some very fine poems were sold " at that Siguro. And vet, living such frngal lives of pleas- ure as those things reveal, these people were looked on not only as revelers in wickedness, but as men who could gratify all the unlawtal desires of the human heart by the aid of untold wealth. Peoplo thought tho Bohemians a set of splendid protligates, somewhat after the manoer of Roman Emperors and ‘‘sich.” They sap- posed these writers of £3 articles and 23 poems to be as rich as potentatas, and as bad and as fascinating as fallen angels. One of them was venturesome enough once to urge his_way into tho precincts of classical Boston ; the Bostonese regarded him with curiosity, and avoided him with horror. s COMPARATIVELY FEW NAMES have beon left to us of this company. Among the ladics was Getty Gay. who wroto some and died oventually, 85 oven writers must. Among the men was George Armold, whose untimely death seems to have fixed his memory in a firmer place than bis life might bave given it. The two Bohemiaus who have come to most distine- tion aro still living and still young. Ouno isthe dramatic critic of one of our morning papers, and probably the most accomplished censor of the stage wo have. Ho is atill a Bohemian, if it be a Bohemian to be light-hearted and brilliant, as well as keen and sensible. Tho otherisa ot of wide renown, who looks the eultured fi‘:w Englander Nature moeant him to be. He bas sung the praises of the delights ho found in the Valioy of Bohemia in winping verse; and_no doubt, as he puces up and down in the crowd of yelling, maddened brokers of the BStock Ex- change,—ho isa_broker as well 2s a poet,—he sometimes looks longingly back to the happy vale where he passod his frat J‘e:rs of literary labor. But he would look and long in vain. Bohe- muaniam of this sort is A TUING OF THE PAST. Even tho name haa been_outirely diverted from its original meaning. The DBohemian of the present day is a poor, shabby being, who scrapes s precarions living by dint of diligent loating about city editors’ offices, and getting small odd jobs. He nover knows what he is to do, or how much he is to make, from onc day to the next. His shoos are run down 2t the heel, and he ho his coat sa high up over his shirt as Limited buttons will permit. Ten to one, the secret of his shabbiness may be found in the odor of gin that floats around him. For this odoriferons product is expended a large part of the income which is scraped in bits from perhapa half-a-dozen newspaper oftices. I once heard oue of thoso fellow anrounce, withi a greasy joy, that he haa made 30 that week ; and I have no doubt it wes tho first weck so marked for manyn month. But there are Bohemians of finer mold than these. There are men wl:o make more mon- ey a8 independent writers than those who have ragular positions on papers; these get up special articles on topics with which thoy are specially famuliar; nct as tolegraphic correspondents of papers in other cities, dip into advertising, and even somo of them write an occagional articlo for amagazine. 5 Of course, with thess, as in most other branches of fiterary worlk, ___ THE OLD ROMANCE IS GONE. Writing is o business, and_its votaries have come to be aa practical and busineas-like as dealors in pork or sugar, The dovil-may-care ways of the old coterio of Pfall's havo given way to the plain, sonsible mothods of the writers of the present day, who profor good houses and comfortable living to lager-becr saloons and slternations of splendor and frugality,. Of conrse, it would b absurd to rockon the present literary class in the direct euccession from the old-time Bohemiana. While they were pursuing their reckless lives, there were writers just as talented and as respactable gocially as those of to-day, who had nothing i common with them, and who, perhaps, knew nothing of their exist- enco ; but it cannot be denied that the ranks of good writers who are gentle-people in this Metropolis are growing every year. Without asserting that this is a * literary centre,” ftis impossible not to see that the class e GROWS EVERY DAY STRONGEB. New York now prints three of the four leading magazines of the country, and the great and ‘unexampled succees of the youngest of them proves that a field existed for it. The fourth great “ maga ™ still hails from Boston, though 1t has now become the property of a firm which arge interests here. Bat, when the sir of out;™ g city grows puraand sweet enough for those who find only in Boston the Ids his haps, half a dollar. So, t00, from the lack of literary talk or real discussions, you might imag- ine that the quill-drivers wers CAREFULLY SAVING THEIR THOUGHTS tobe put on paper. Perhaps they are; and no donbt it is best after all, for what moro bore- some and malignantly tedious individual can you find than the man or the woman who ‘‘talks shop?” AMusr. THE WIND ON THE VILLAGE-GRAVES. The Autumn-wind, one golden morn, Came singing down the alsles of corn; Come stuging likosomo bappy ehild Into datsled paths beguiled ; And Aliook the flowers that o'er the fencs Lezned in careless indolence. The sun had Just reached out and kissed The tree-tops, from his cowl of mist ; And, spreading far as eye conld gaze, There rosea tender ecs of haze, That mado the landscape dim, but fair, s gunzo more sweet makes pictures rare, On ficlds where lato the sickle played, A now-born verdure softly luid, And, *round their cool and dewy brims, Tho'creeper wove gay, scarlet rims ; While, through the lichened meadow-bars, The aster thruat hier golden stars, And all tho world was ripe and fair ; ‘And, on the sweet Soptomber air, Thero hung the breath of golden grain, - Aud fruits o'crripened on the platn, Tuat scemed to wait the lightest breeze To looso their Lold from burdened trees, And as the wind camo inging Oer fences and o'er faded lawn, All through the sombrous solitudes, That drowsod within the redd’ning woods, Tho noises crept of rustling sheaf, And piping reeds, and shaken leaf. Then to tho villsge:graves it crept, Where flowers their death-watch soflly kept, And shook their teirs of gold-lit dew Upon the sod and trailing yew, And broke the grasses, low and atill, In many o rift and chasing riil. And thus it eang, now wild, now low, Through grasses waving to and fro: * Slumber sweet, O happy dead ! For Summer’s eong and blooms have fled ; ‘And leaves are fa everywhere, And sighs of death are on theair, 01 warmer far a bed of Toam— O! sweeter far thy silent home— 0! brighter far thy atarleas night, Than coming Winter's chill and bifght, Ycs, warmer, swecter, brighter—ai/, Thy bed where never storms may fall. Thy slesp no anguished dreaming mars; "Tia but the Llank between two stars: A mystio pause 'tween Hoaven and Earth— A Mortal’s desth—an Angel's birth, God’s loving hand but shades thing eyes To it them far s glad surpriso! « Each shining lance of living sente Is aieathed in slumber’s calm intense. Dlest Sicep 1~tis well {—for bitter {ray, From temposts wild, ia on the way. Thy foldod eyes no sweets shall.miss, Nor weep o'er ruined realms of blias. Like dumb, cold seeds in silent earth, Bieop on, %1l waked in brighter birth 1% Mge. Constz Laws 81, Jomy. -———_LITERARY NOTES.. The last number of the National Quarterly Review (Edward L. Sears, Now York) has articles on ‘“Corals, Coral Reefs and Islands;™ *¢afill end Agassiz;” ‘‘The Accidents of Sublunary i ¢ Herr Strauss, and His Panthe- “‘The Glacial Peniod; Its Cause “The Salient Characteristica of Washington,” &e., &c. . —The leading papers in the Penn Monthly for April (Penn Monthly Association, Philadelphis), aro: “The Law of Partnership;” Tho Com- munisms of the Old World ;" and ** Dr. Krauth's Borkeloy.” —Other periodicals received: Great Western Afonthly for April (Great Western Publishing Company, Philadelphia) ; Gem of the West for April (Gem of the West Company, Ghicago); American Builder for April (Charles D. Lakey, New York) ; Wilson's Herald of Health (South- orn Pablishing Company, At: ta, ; eur- rent numbers of Appleton's Journal (D. Apple- ton, New York); and Etery Saturddy (H. O. Honghton & Co., Cambridge, Mass.). —Swinburne's new peem is to be called ““The Romance of Ysenit.” t —Mrs. Stows has determined not to write any moro for soveral years. —Dion Boucicault, it is said, has written a comic diary of his trip across the American con- tinent. —The Communist General Cluseret has begaun in the Swiss Times of Geneva a series of letters on the Paris Commune. —James Russell Lowell hassent from Italy, to the Atlantic Monthly for May, o long- poem on the death of Agassiz. —* Coomasste and Magdala: a Story of Two British Cunpnz:gns " is the title of a work now in tho press by Mr. Henry ). Stanley, the “corre- spondent of tho Now York Herald during the late war on the Gold Coast. —R. H. 8toddard, the poet, has been added fo the Scribner staff s the writer of the humorous department, * Etchings.” . —The British census of 1861 reports 110 Iadies ia London as living by literature, two of them under 20, and three of them over 75 years of age. _ —The English literars journals are fall of ar- ticles lately about Chaucer and Shakspeare. Fivo or six rival reprinting societice are in fall blast, giving the public the works of all the earlier ‘nglish poots. —Balzac's ** Droll Stories,”” now translated in- to English for tho first time, and recontly issued in London, is said by a conespominm to be ‘‘very euggestive of Boccaccio's Decameron, upon which it very clogely borders.” —“The Mill-Wheel,” a recently-published novel, by Miss Heolen Dickens, o daughtor of the late Charles Dickens, is prononnced by English critics as far from being an_ordinary book. —Mrs. Rebecea Harding Davia has been en- gagod by Scribner's fonthly for o “new depart- uro” in magezine stories. They are to be but two pages long. —Dr. Clarke's “Sex in Education” is over- whelmingly indorsed in the report of the Massa- chusetta State Board of Health, in the depart- ment of *School Hygiene.” _—A printing office has_recently been estab- liched in connection with the Peling (China, College, from _which sre already promised o his- Sory of Lho Taiping and Nienfei rebellions and & work on chemistry by Prof. Billequin, —The London: Academy prousunces Max Muller’s discourso on Christian missions, with ita introduction by Dean Stanley, to be a reform stopin the emancipation of Christianity from the priesthood, ceremonies, and dogmsa that have overgrown it. —C. Edwards Lester again comes to the front, with a book entitled, *Our First Eundrod Years: The Life of the Republic of tho United States Illustrated in Its Four Great Periods— Colonization, Consolidation, Doselopment, and Achievoment.” The Urited Btates Publishing Company will bring out the work. . Charles vis prepating for the press a work entitled ** Tha Gaelic Etymology of tho Languages of Western Eunrope, and more especially of tho English and Lowland Scotcb, and their Cant, Slang, and- Colloquial Dialects.” 1t will be dedicated, by permission, to the Prince of Walea. 2 —The Nuremberg Correspondeni declares that it has reasou to doubt the correctness of the statement that Strauss left two unpoblished works, viz: the *Life of Lessing” and a “Life of Beethoven." The former manuseript is, indeed, in existence, but nothing is known of tho latter. Btrauss was an enthusiastic admiror of Beet- hoven, and has written a good deal upon lus compositions. ebody whohas seen theadvance sheets: of Auerbach’s new noval “ Walfriod,” eays that 1 er- | it will open up somo such new fiald in fes Wagner has oponed in masic. .\\luxbuf!ixcl;i;::?l 88y that 118 tho best work ho has dong. can do, and that be «hall writo no mao "% % —\Ir. Hjalmar Hjorth Boyasen, in the Aprt Galazy, tells us, by suthority of the ortho. graphic’ sufferer, 1ow to spall tho namo Tons guenef; now if somo one, say Bjornstjerna Bjornson, would kindly tell ua how to pronatey Hjalmar Hjorth Boyesen's nemo, wo should fag) less tired whon wa 8aw it. Wo have s king: fooling toward the old darkies who ot over b difficalty with patriarchal pames in bis i reading, I cAll them ail Moses and lat they g0 -Bery Saturday. —)Ir. Welford notices, as s carious bibjj rephical fact, that a litle work, unm;,é"“{; amb and the remaindor by, his gister, “Poy for Children, entircly original,” published 5 1809, 2 vols., 12mo., bas elnded tho strictes genrch, and is supposed to have utierly diesp. peared. Allwlurhmn ofita conteats was serie] in 3 ater collection of similar aim, Wl is it known, A% phends ol —A correspondent, who Lives at Rochestor writes to us: “Permit me to suggest that a) edition of Dickcens' Works should bo broush; out in cleasical English, Tho words used in the author’s works aro extremely disagreeablo t rend. I think that the language of the lowe orflers ought never to appear in priat."—ZLondon m. —The half-dozen editors and half-hund: contribntors having concluded their pr‘;;a{‘f scratching, the raport of the Evangelical Ali. anco is at last ready at the Harpers’. Ths proofs had to go all over tho world, and ona of the delegates, o fow thousand miles off, under. took to reconsiract bis paper eutirely in the proof. But tae book is born, and confains 773 magazine pages. —A botanist who has gotthe position of mang script-render on a literary paper replies to ag ambitious poot in this heartlessly scientific etyls; +* I don’t know scenery in your region very well: but (1) I doubt somewhat if the ‘firs," ¢ willows,) ‘aspens,’ ‘oaks,’ and *dogwood® grow togother, ‘2) I doubt those * daisies’ in ‘sunmer’ on thy slope.” But it is possible. (3) There is my “heather in the United States, except a very lit tle in Tewksbury, Mass. (4) If there ward ‘heather on that ‘gide-hill,’ it would be a dry hill, and it would bo brake, and not ‘fern’ (6] ¢ Deffodils’ do not grow on side-hills or anywher¢ elue except in gardens. (6) Of all green, ‘omar. ald’ is tho very last to describo * willows,” whick are a very light, whitish graen. (7) *Dogwood! blooms in ‘snowy bowers’ neverin :summer; only early spring.” . —In the London Times it is aunounced that the Harness prize of the University of Cam- bridge, open to all ondergraduates, and gradu. ates of not more than three years' standing, for the best English essay on a subject connected with Shakespearean literature, has been ad judged by the Vice-Chancellor, the Master of College, and two persous appointed by grace of the Senate, to George Lockhart Rives, of Ken York, B. A., scholar of Trinity College. Tait fhriza, awarded ouce in three years, consists of 0 accumulation of interest on the foundation, in 1870, of £500, given for a memorial of Byron't friend, the lato Rev, William Haraess, Preben. dary of St. Paul's, and an edilor of Shakespearo. One of the conditions of the prize is that the eg- say of the successful competitor be published, The particular subject given out for this yea was the authenticity of the_first, sccond, ‘an{ third parts of the play of * Henry VL” —A correspondent of the dcademyesys: “A farther installment of Prosper 3Merimee's cor: mBJmnflence is about to be published, aod wil undoubtedly be welcomo to all who oultivate the almost obsolete art of letter-writing. Tho la4 academician wag nearly a3 uatiring a correspond- ent 28 L Thiers or Barthelemi St.-Hilaire. Tha Framized lotters are addressed to a literary col- league, and exhibit, rather more plainly than the epistles to the * Inconnuo,’ tho bard, cynical, acd gomewhat coarse sido of the writer's character. It is no longer the courtly eatirist playing an academical St.-Proux to a very modern aand materialistic Julie; but a frank skoptic recount~ ing without reserve or squivocation his impress- ions’of menand things. The correspondenca opens in 1349, and, in tho very first lines, it ia evident that Merimee had already adopted the pissive role of the philosopbic spectator which Deither Benato nor Academy could afterward mako him abandon. In the Iatter years of his Iife the author of ‘Colomba’ became more and more frank and confirmed in hus epicureanmm. Ho devotes many of his last lcttors to the dis- cussion of different qualities of wines. He preforred Chatean ls Rose, and fillod page after page with praises of his favorite vin.” —_— STRUGGLE. Gmllmnmlglh is bought with pain. From out fbs o From out the storms that sweep tho human soul,~ Those hidden tompests of tho inner life,— Comes forth the lofty calm of self-control. eace after war. Although ke heart may be N am ':m gzd{lgkn »tom atdiefeld, 8 s that follow victory- "And battlo-geoaida e TPNeSt AATECats el Strong grows his arm who breasta a downward stream, And stems with steady stroks the mighty tido Of his own passions. Sora tho wrench may seem, Yet only ke is strong whose strength is triod, To tofl i hard. To lay aside the oar,— To eoftly rise and fall with passion’s swell,— I8 easier far ; but, when tho dream is o'zr, ‘Tha bilterness of waking none can tel, To float at ease, by sleopy zepliyrs fanned, Is but to grow more feoble, day by day, ‘While alips life’s Little hour out, sand by ssnd, ‘And strength and hope together waste awag. Ho only wins who sets his thows of stecl With tighter tension for the prick of pain; Who woaries, yet stands fast: whoso paticat zes) ‘Welcomes thio presont loss for future gaia. Toil before ease ; the crosa befors the crown. Who covets rest, he first muat earn the boon. He who at night in peace would Iy him down, Must bear his load amid tho bests of noon. ELrzy P. ALLERTOY. R N s A Presentation to the fope. Rome Correspondence of the Detroit Iree Press. Some peraons have great difficulty m otisio- ing a presentztion to the Pope. Two nisces 0 the celobrated Scotch divino, Dr. Guthrie, 8p- plied for a card at_the Scotch College, but were positively rofused. So much for having s distinguished namo.- Presentations can 0aly obtained through the foreign colieges in Rome. 1 found the Rector of the American GOHCE"L,‘ most gentlemauly aud sfable person. He not ask whether we wore Protestants or Catho- lics, but said that all persons presented were re- quired to conform to certain etiquette. I have heard more than once that the Pope had beey very much scandalized at tho disrespectfal m.l rivolous conduct of samo soung paréous, so then, for a time, no presentations could bo ol tained by Ameriaaus. Thore wero r:uz twenty persons prescnted at tho time we wers. The Pope Liadon a voluminous_scarlet closk over his whito dress, and a bm:d—brunmedsué' lot biat, which ho romoved as be entered. : appeared to await some demonstration of respt_; or sympathy as be spproached. Three l!fl:h 2 stood bolt upright before him, contrary “:u,_; rescribed ctiquette. Ha surveyed them teac y and coldly, and passed om without a word ‘fhey were much mortified at the cavalier 1:“1 ner in which they were treated. A different 1:0 ception swaited him from the next group, 2 o3 kneeling aronnd him, covercd his bands vik tears and kisses, some of them bending dmmmw kisging tho hem of his garment. Thea nl.l‘!;_‘ Tacions charm of his manner broko forth. 5 a seemed to showor bouedictions. Formy Pty all my Protestant ecruples vanished, and I we 2 down on my kuoes wiih an_tnvolunsary impak of respect and compassion for an uufortanai® man, and touched bis hand with my I;p‘z Ad American boy, sbout 12 year: Catholic, attracted tho Pop2'sesp: Ho stopped to talk with hiw, patt is bair and pinched his chees, aod ed the large ring which ho wears 3 A miraculous virtue i3 useribe:d to T3 i o Tho Pope looks thinuwr thun Zormerls, bot ¢hows no evidenca of fecblencss. On thy 0% trery llxin ;ovlsks very woll, and scams to cairy b3 yoars lightly, Lo Ashibda leaving the room he mpd_uavxv—‘f and bestowed a gencral blessing. 1Hs fise e& were full of expreaaion ss they rested upor;;du faco witk s spocial honodictioa. D3Iy Cathot friond aséerts that it is s supornstoral hgd which gleams in bis eyes. Tuat bo 12 6% with a Jargo sharo of peracual magnetismis T evident. I remember to have witnessed 8 ¥¢ itable furor among the people st su sudience & the Vatican scveral years ago. They cro¥d sround him, seized hold of his hands, chnx“;! to his garmonts, ad loading him with c3Ie8SE o had to bo fairly dragged from the To0R the attendants. e == Hlecnan’s Sistere A Berlin lotter of March 17, in the Londs2 NNews of the 21st ult., contains the falloqm&"zl nouncement: * Miss D. IHecnan, tho eieh tho well-kuown American boxer, died 808 wi: ago in Berlin, literally of suffocation. She ¥ undoubtedly ono of tie mos: corpalent WORZT in the world, and had been for some_time & e biting hor not uncamely features and her 8 i solid mass of ficsh to an admining Berlin F\‘w o togetner with a seloction from the silver tho- and other presents reccived by her from eatil siustic citizens and crowued heads dariog © couree of her travels, when, almost Withodd ¥ previcus warping, the poor lady’s caresr was &hort 1n tho wav I have mesticncd.”