THE DAILY EVENING TELEGRAPH PHILADELPHIA, TUESDAY, JULY 20, 1860. THE AUGUST MAGAZINES. "THE UAI,AXY. The August number of the Galary, which yr have received from Turner Brothers fc Co., has the following table of contents "lut Yourself in his I'laco," by Charles Rcailc chapter xi, with an illustration; "Fci.thercd Life," by John Burroughs; "The Hose, the Cloud, and the Oriole," a fable witlotit a moral, by T. W. Parsons; "The Kmc e for Commercial Supremacy in Asia," by Richard J. Hinton, with map; "Susan Field ing," by Mrs. Edwards chapters xxiv, xxv, and xxvi; "Prince Napoleon," by Justin McCarthy; "Mineral Waters," by John C. Draper, M, B; "Climmerly Gap' by J. T. McKay; "Matthew Vassar," by John II. Ray xnond; "HowtheyKeep House at Compiogno," by . t. t.; "On a Cast of Tennyson's J laud," by 11. T. Tnckormari; "The Age of Burlosiuo," by Richard Grant White; "The Galaxy Mis cellany," containing "Henry J. Raymond and the Ti)nr.i," hy August um Maverick, and "A Williamsburg Dinner Tarty;" "Drift-wood," by Philip Quilibct, containing "Going to Rome" and "Affability;" "Literature and Art;" "Nebula'," by the editor. A fae-similo of a letter from Charles Ileado is given, which is to the following effect: "Tlio publishers of 'the Galas;' pay me a liberal price for 'i'ut Yourself in his Place.' "If 1 were a mechanical inventor, instead of a literary inventor, this payment would secure them the cole lcpd ritiht. "In the present iniquitous, partial, barbarous, and brainless state ot law, it only secures them a clear moral ri-lit- Hut 1 hope all respectable publishers will respect that moral riirht, will put themselves in thi-ir place, and will forbear to reap w here they have not sown. "Ciiaui.es Rbape." Mr. Justin McCarthy gives tho following sketch of Trince Napoleon: Born of a hair-brained, eccentric, adventure-seeking, negligent, hellish father, Trince Napoleon had litt 1; of the advantages of a home education. His boyhood, his youth, wore passed in a vagrant kind of way, ranging from country to country, from court to court. He started in life with great natural talents, a strong tendency to something not very unlike rowdyism, nu immense ambition, an almost equally vast indolence, a deep and getmino love of arts, letters, and luxury, an eccentric, fitful temper, and a predominant pride in that relationship to tho great Emperor which is so plainly stamped upon his face. Without enter ing iiito any questions of current scandal, everybody must know that Napoleon III has nothing of tho Bonaparte in his face, a fact on which Trince Napoleon, in his earlier and wilder days, was not always very slow to com ment. Indolence, love of luxury, and a ca pricious temper have, perhaps, been tho chief enemies which have hitherto prevented the latter from fulfilling any high ambition. It would be affectation to ignore the fact that Trince Napoleon llung many years away in mere dissipation. Stories are told iu Paris which would represent him almost as a Vitellius or an Egalite in profligacy stories some of which simply transcend belief by their very monstrosity. Even to this day, to this hour, it is the linn conviction of the general public that the Emperor's cousin is steeped to the lips in sensuality!- Now, re jecting, of course, a huge mass of this scan dal, it is certain that Trince Napoleon was, for along time, a downright minimis nujct; it is by no means certain that he has, even at his present mature age, discarded all his evil habits. His temper is much against him. People habitually contrast the unvarying courtesy and self-control of tho Emperor with the occasional brusqueness, and even rude ness, of the Prince. True that Prince Napo leon can be frankly and warmly familiar with his intimates, and even that, like Prince Hal, lie sometimes encourages a degree of famili arity which hardly tends to mutual respect. Rut the outer world cannot always rely on him. He can be diplomatically rough and hot, and ho has a gift of biting jest which is, perhaps one of the most dangerous qualities a statesman call cultivate, Then. tliere js a, personal restlessness about him which even princes cannot afford safely to indulge. He Las hardly ever had any official position as signed to him which he did not some time or other scornfully abandon on the spur of some sudden impulse. Tho Madrid embassy in former days, tho Algerian administration, the Crimean command these aud other offices ho only accepted to resign. He has wandered more widely over the face of the earth than any other living prince probably than any other prince thut ever lived. It used to be hu morously said of him that he was qualifying to become a teacher of geography, iu the event of fortune once more driving the race of Bonaparte into exile and obscurity. What port is there that has not sheltered his wan dering yacht? He has pleasant dwelling enough to induce a man to stay at h'e His Palais lloyal is one of the jmo i ' ; ,1 tasteful aVodes belonging ft Euroan prince. The pltftlgef iu Paris who is for tunato ensign to obtain admission to it and, i'loed, admission is easy to procure must bo sadly wanting in taste if he doos not admire tho treasures of art and ttrtu which are laid up there, and the easy, graceful man ner of their arrangement. Nothing of the air of tho show-place is breathed there; no rules, no conditions, no watchful dogging lacqueys or sentinels make their visitor un comfortable. Once admitted, tho stran ger goes where ho will, and admires and examines what he pleases. Ho finds there curiosities and relics, medals and statues, bronzes aud stones from every land in which history or romance takes any in terest; ho gazes on tho latest artistic suc cesses Dol e's magnificent lights and shadow s, Gerome's audacious nudities; ho observes autograph collections of value inestimable; ho notices that on tho tables, hero and there. lie the newest triumphs or sensations of litera ture the poem that every one is just talking of, the play that nils tlio theatres, George Hand's last novel, Kenans new volume Taines freshest criticism: he is impressed everywhere with tho conviction that he is in the house of a man of high culture and active intellect, who keeps up with tho progress of the world in arts, ami letters, and politics. Then there was, until lately, tho famous Pompeiian palace, m one of tho avenues of the Champs Llysees, wnien ranked among the curiosities of Puris, but which Prince Napoleon has at last chosen, or been com polled, to sell. On tho Swiss shore of tho lake of Geneva, cue of tho most re markable objects that attract tho eye of the tourist who steams from Geneva to Lausanne, is La Bergerio, tho palacoof Prince Napoloon. But the owner of theso palaces spends little of his time in them. His wife, the Princess Clotilde, stays at homo and delights in her children, and shows them with pride to her visitors, while her restless husband is steam ing in and out of tho ports of tho Mediter ranean, the Black Sea, or the Baltic. Prince Napoleon has not found his place yet, say Edmond About and other admirers; when ho does he will settle firmly to it. Ho is a rest Jess, unmaniifoablo idler and scamp, sny his enemies vmstuVlo an water, lio aliull rM excel. Meanwhile years go by, and Trince Napoleon has long left even tho latest Verge of youth behind him; and ho is only a possi bility as yet, and is popular with no political party in Prance. Strange that this avowed and ostentations democrat, this eloquent, powerful spokesman of French Kadicalism, is not popular even with Democrats and Ked Republicans. They do not trust him. They cannot understand how he can honestly extend one hand to De mocracy, while in tho other he receives tho magnificent revenues assigned to hira by des potism. One might have thought that nothing would be more easy than for this man, with his daring, his ambition, his brilliant talents, his commanding eloquence, his democratic principles, and his Napoleon face, to mako himself the idol of French Democracy. Yet he has ntterly failed to do so. As a politician he has almost invariably upheld the rightful cause, and accurately foretold the course of events. He believed in tho possibility of Italy H resurrection long before there was any idea of his becoming son-in-law to a Kiug of Italy; ho has been one of tho most earnest friends of tho cause of Poland; ho saw long ngo what every one sees now, that tho fall of the Austrian system was an absolute necessity to the progress of Europe; ho was a steady supporter of tho American Union, and when it was the fashion in France, as in England, to regard tho inde pendence of the Southern Confede racy as all but nn accomplished fact, he re mained firm in the conviction that tho North was destined to triumph. With all his char acteristic recklessness ond impetuosity, ho has many times shown n coed and penetrating judgment, hardly surpassed by that of any other European statesman. Yet tho undenia ble fact remains, that his opinion carries with it comparative little weight, and that no party recognizes him as a leader. r Is he insincere ? Most people sny ho is. They sny that, with all his professions of del mocratic faith, he delights in his princely rank and his princely revenues; that ho is selfish, grasping, luxurious, arrogant and deceitful. 'Iho army despises him; tho popu lace do not trust him. Now, for myself, I do not accept this view of the character of Prince Napoleon. I think he is a sincere demo crat, a genuine lover of liberty and progress. But I think, at tlio same time, that ho is cursed with some of tho vices of Alcibiados, and some of tho vices of Mirabeau; that he has the habitual indolence almost of a Ven dome, with Vendome's occasional outbursts of sudden enemy; that a love of luxurv. jin.l a restlessness of character, and fretfuluess of temper stand in his way,. aud are his enemies. I doubt whether he will ever play a creat his torical part, whether he ever will do much more than he has done. His character wants that backbone of earnest, strong simplicity nud faith without which even tho most bril liant talents can hardly achieve political great ness. He will probably rank in history among theMight-Have-Beens. Assuredly he has in him the capacity to play a great part. Iu know ledge and culture ho is far, indeed, superior, to his uncle, Napoleon I; in justice of politi cal conviction, ho is a loner way in advance of his cousin, Napoleon III. Taken for all in all, he is the most lavishly gifted of tho race of the Bonapartes and what a part in tho cause of civilization and liberty might not be played by a Bonaparte endowed with genius and culture, and faithful to high and true convic tions! But the time seems g ing by, if not gone by, w hen even admirers .could expect to see Prince Nnpoleon play such a part. Pro bably tho disturbing, distracting vein of un conquerable levity, so conspicuous in the cha racter of his father, is tho marplot of the son's career, too. After all, Prince Napoleon is per haps more of an Antony than a Caesar was not Antony, too, an orator, a wit, a lover ef art and letters, a lover of luxury and free com panionship, nnd woman? Doubtless Prince Napoleon will emerge again, some time and somehow, from his present condition of com parative obscurity. Any day, any crisis, any sudden impulso may bring him up to tho front again. But I doubt whether tho dynasty of the Bonapartes tho cause of democratic free dom, tho destinies of France, will be influ enced, much for good or evil, by this man of rare and varied gifts of almost measureless possibilities tho restless, reckless, eloquent, brilliant Imperial democrat of the Palais Koyal, and Ked Kepublican of the Empire tho long misunderstood and yet scarcely com prehended Trince Nnpoleon. From a rather gushing article, entitled "How they Keep House at Compeigne," we quote as follows1: At last you are iu the house, and in your rooms, aud as dinner is punctual at seveu, you can rest yourself, take a bath, arrange your hair nicely, put on a little, very little, pof ume; will select from among your clothes bucu u you miiiu wm make a lavorabie im pression, and in due tituo will appear in tho grand aahn, to mako that impression. There are collected the various guests, and, if you are a lovely woman, you will for a few mo ments bo totally absorbed in the many-colored and perhaps fancifullv-cut dresses wMeli others have devised to mako their favorable first impressions. At first you will forget about your own schemes in that direction, in mo ausonung interest ot silks, laces, gloves, and flowers. But, ulas, then yon will if of an over-sensitivo nature you will rellect tint you are outdone, that there are more startling colors and more fancifully-cut dresses thau yonvs, nnd, forgetful of tho proprieties, vou may oo ueirayeu into giving your skirts a petulant twitch, which, let us hope, m ly gracefully dispose tho soft, falling folds. The evening is upon you w hat will you do, how will it go? Can you enjoy it ? You know some; you speak with them, chat with them, laugh with them. Tho Emperor and Empress pass about informally and easily; they say pleasant nothings. No state secrets are whispered, so far as you can hear. Tho Empress asks about America, if you are nn American, as I hope you are indulges iU little enthusiasm, wonders if Niagara is as great as they say; if the prairies are as wi lo, the caves as profound, the Indians as wild, the white men as restless as sho has heard; then, .perhaps, sho imparts a great desire to visit America, and wishes General Grant would extend her an invitation 1 You say, perhaps, that ho would but be too happy to welcome her to his quiet house and then you wonder if ho would; unit simple tanner-iarmcr, soldier-President, who seems to havo no instinct for show or instructions from Mr. and Mrs. Grant to th.it effect. By-and-by tho Mistress draws away from the throng, and takes with her a few gontlo men most often. Who are they? Council lors, judges, senators? No; they are proba bly travellers, or writers, or inventors, or benefactors, or men with plans. She is curi ous, anxious to learn; she asks questions; sho draws them out; sho suggests, she objects, sho approves; bho is lonriiin-j, Hho means to kcwtJl, Yi'liftt a ttiak ! ' Y lio 'oxiia bg fiu grandeur. You wonder how the housewifery " . Lo "White House" would impress the Mistress of Compiegno. You wonder, but you do not uriro her to Empress! To know all? How impossible ! Let me hope that she is sometimes enter tained, for what horror to be always in structed I She is interested, she listens, she charms. For what may not come of it, if your truth or your project shall bourgeon and grow in the mind of the gracious Empress, partner of the astute potentate who holds in his hnnd the lives and tho labors of fifty mil lions of Frenchmen ? You wonder, you dream, you hopo, and you are charmed with this woman, who, in all her beauty and greatness, listens and un derstands. Dear lathes, queens of hearts, Hee how she fascinates, and do as she does, and bo become Empresses in your own way. Mr. Richard Grant White, in his paper on "The Ago of Burlesque," gives the following interesting reminiscences of Rachel aud Sontag: I have known very few actresses. Although not without opportunities of knowing them, I can reckon my acquaintances among tho la dies of tho stage almost on tho fingers of ono hand. It has merely happened so to my great loss, I do not doubt although my limited observation has confirmed what is said by those who have known many actresses, and known them well, that there is no peculiar charm in their society except a certain free dom from restraint that makes intercourse with them easier than it is with purely domestic women. A clever and successful actress is gene ral ly a charming woman, with her womanhood slightly dashed with tho open-hearted freedom of a good fellow, and tho ease and repose of a man of the world; tho womanly weaknesses nnd graces being, as a counterpoise, a little more pronounced in her than they usually are. But beyond wearing the ruo of their sex with this slight diff erence, actresses aro just like other women; as fond of admiration, but no fonder; no more eager to bo loved, or covetous of tho attentions and tho gifts that are tributes to their charms; no moro addicted to extravagance in dress or to luxurious living for which, indeed, they very rarely have tho menus at their command: no less gifted with all tho peculiar virtues nay, tho very domes tic virtues of their sex; as true in their friendships as other women are, ami as pungent in their hatred; as selfish and as unselfish; and ns ready to sacrifice them selves to their love of duty. They are some what more frank and simple in their manner than tho women of society, and generally, I believe, more generous; readier, as a rule, to give to others and to work for others who have no claim on them but need and their common profession. The services done to each other by actresses, out of pure kindness and goodnature, and tho help that tho successful ones give to the unsuccessful, more than atone for (he professional jealousy for which they are noted, but in which they are not peculiar. Mere women ns they are, with a slight ex cess of tho more womanly traits of character, they are subject to more obloquy and misre presentation than any other class of people They excite tho envy and not unfrequenfly provoke the jealousy of other women, who resent and wonder at tho admiration they re ceive from "all the men, "an admiration often accompanied by a lively interest on the part of men who bin e and who seek no personal acquaintance with them. But the reason of this interest is merely that they are devoted to giving pleasure. It is their daily occupation to enliven, to stimulate, to delight. They do this in tho eyes of the world. They spread their nets in the sight of many birds, and not in vain. With ono glance they wound hundreds, and with the self -same smilo they captivate tons of hundreds. The domestic woman practises as with a rifle, or, at most, with a double barrelled fowling-piece, bringing down her man here and there, but an actress scatters her charms into a crowd, out of a blunder buss. Her fire is rarely so fatal as that of her more concealed, sharp-shooting sister; but she hits more, and makes a great deal moro noise about it; aud once iu a while sho, as well as the other, gives wounds that liiiit a life time. Some man, not of Jier class, is moro than a passing admirer, feels more than a transient flame, and then she either shares a great happiness or grieves over a great sorrow of her making; or else sho exults in her conquest, and utilizes it, and makes nil she can of it in reputation and in tribute, just as if she had been brought up in tho conventional atmosphere and under tho self-denying precepts and examples of tho best society. In either of these cases she is sure to be denounced as a harpy, a man-trap, a whited sepulchre; and very virtuous women, who are laying, or who havo lain snares to catch rich men, and get such a legal hold upon them that they may drain their purses all theirlives, sneer at the mercenary views of a hard-working actress who accepts tho eagerly-proffered pleasure, and, perhaps, tho material benefits with which some admirer is glad to lighten and decorate tho burden of her laborious life. If only tho women whq tire without sin in this respect were to cast fctonos, how many actresses would bo stoned to death? Tho freedom with which the private conduct and the character of actresses aro spoken of by those who have no knowledge of them is one of tho tolerated outrages of society. In the first place, their conduct in private is proper subject of public criticism. If they ask to be received into any circle of 'society, the members of that society have tho light to pass judgment upon their morals and their manners; but not otherwise. Their private relations are -mutters to be determined by their own sense of pro priety; and they, no less than other wo men, havo the right to demand, not only that nothing shall be sal A of them which iS untrue, but that no man shall say that of them that he does not know to bo true. Yet I havo been uu involuntary listener to stories about actresses, related with great particularity, when every assertion of my professed inform ant was directly at variance with the fact, as I knew of my own knowledge. And 1 h ivo not unfrequenfly heard that told, with reck less indifference, of those ministers to the world's pleasure, for telling whioh, even if it were true, tho teller deserved to bo struck dumb. , , T Among the half-dozen actresses whom I have known, two, who are no longer living Sontag and Rachel left impressions upon mo, as women, that I am sure will never bo obscured by time's attrition. Both were of humble birth, and both wero remarkable for the distinguished elegance of their manners; but with this diff erence: that Sontag, charm ing and elegant on tho stage, was more charming and more elegant in private; while Rachel, who behind tho footlights was the ideal of a queen or a great lady of tho old school, in private, although courteous and well mannered, showed the stamp of her origin and her profession how, I cannot tell, but there it was, unmistakably. Sontag, if she had been born Countess do Rossi, or for that matter, Do Moutmorenci, could not have shown in her personal bearing nobility of a higher, simpler type; but on tho stage she was surpassed in this respect by tho Jewoss, who, as uuablQ Ju private to conceal her breeding as hor racoj showed yet upon the stage the command and mo graciousiiewi oi t uose who are horn in the purple. Sayinff this, one day. to the late eccentric (taint Gurowski, I was pleased, and not, surprises, to nave the curt reply, "Gun Rachel is the one-ly grand e dame, on the lay-amre. fontag, when I knew her, was a mature woman, nnd my senior by many years; and yet, notwithstanding this, and a know ledge of the world besides, that showed itself in all sho did and snid, and which rivalled that of her gambling husband, sho seemed to me to diffuse around her all tho influence of youth. A freshness as delicate as tho first perfumes of early spring was hers, an unaf fected softness of manner, that had tho gratefulness of balm, and its virtue. Sho had tho tenderness and crispnoss cf youth, without its greenness. I havo rarely met a girl of seventeen so young as Sontag was at forty-five. I have said nothing of her beauty; for that was well known to all men. And when I saw it still preserved, I then first recollected that I had heard of it before I was old enough to know what woman's beauty was; but I had not heard of her hand, which was beautiful enough to worship, as wo may worship all perfection. And this woman, so beautiful, so winning in her ways, so charm ing as a singer and an actress, was also clever in the most attractive form of female cleverness. Sho talked well, without sen tent iousness and without learning; and sho had humor, as much as becomes a truly feminine woman. I shall never forget her description of the pompous dulnessof tho dinners and the evenings at tho country houses of English noblemen and gentlemen to which sho was invited, after her marriago with Count Rossi and her retirement from tlio stoge. Tho essays in gallantry of men who had been fox-hunting or shooting all day, and who caino homo tired and hungry to get themselves up in festive apparel, and to eat a heavy dinner and drink heavy wine, wero not much to her taste; although, if sho wero half as lively under their infliction as sho was in describing it, sho must havo been a priceless creature amid nil that dulness. Only ono in dication of her humble origin and of self-consciousness escaped her. 1 happened to men tion that I had followed a procession, in a largo city, for tho purpose of observ ing the people called out by its passago, and that I had found the prettiest women among those in tho lower conditions of life: "Ah," sho said, slightly dropping her eyelids, "it is always so." Her sudden death iu Mexico was generally attributed to poison, her husband, it is said, having thus avenged himself of her love for a tenor singer who was in their company. I havo never believed this story. Count Rossi may not have been too good a man thus to relievo himself of a woman who, by her own exer tions, had restored him, in a great measure at least, the fortune ho had wasted; but sho loved the unworthy husband for whom sho labored. Rachel talked more of tho stago and of literature than Sontag did. Sho made an ad mission to mo one evening that wassurprising. She had been playing "Phiedre." with crau- deur, nnd great power over tho emotions of her audience; but sho spoke to me, with a naturalness tliat sho never surpassed on tho stnge, of her weariness of French tragedy, of its sentimentality, its prosiness and its stilted verse. "Oh that I had learned English, that I might play Shakespeare ! but now it is too late. ' "What, are you not satisfied with Racine, or even with Corueille?" "No; Cor neille has moments, and one can mako some thing out of Racine by much study of tho best pnrts." I complimented her upon hor Ihicdre, which, although an unpleasant character, seemed to me one that gavo scope for fine acting. "Yes, I have an opportunity of doing something: but that boy," waving her hand as if "Ilippo lytus" wero present, "what does ho do but spout nonsense! And that old man with his monster" (referring to Theramene's descrip tion of the death of Hippolyte), "and all tho rest Lew stupid (betcjii is! Give us Shake speare." If this was a delicate compliment to a man of Shakespeare's race, andj a student of his works, it was a very elaborate and super fluous one. I am inclined to think that it was not so; but a genuine expression of opinion and feeling w hich sho might not havo been willing to avow to a Frenchman. Sho was right as to her capacity. To see her play "Cleopatra" or "Lady Macbeth" would havo been worth a voyage to Europe. She was born to ploy perhaps with the copacity to be "Lady Macbeth;" and, except her black hair, to look tho wife of Cawdor, who, I do not doubt, was just such a litllo, spiritual, alluring female, fiend on she; or perhaps bright, and. sunny, and weet, and surely yellow-haired, like LydSa Thompson, who herself has capacity for tragedy in tho fine linx-s of her face. As for those big, ol&ek, bony "Ladv liacbeths" that stalk tibout the stage id stare out of pictures, they might drive a soldier to seek death upon tho field; but they could tempt him neither to marriago or to murder. The Just time I saw Rachel to speak with her vas on the occasion of her last 'rtppearance in tho full possession of hor powers. I was in Boston, and she played "Adi ienno Lo Couvreur." Of course, I did not miss that performance, and it was un usually linn and finished, even for her. It seemed to mo as if sho were playing it for her own delight, and that sho gavo herself up to tho impersonation of tho unhappy ac tress with such abandonment of self that she really suff ered the pangs sho simulated, and inflicted them upon her own soul with a fierce joy. Walking in tho lobby, between two acts, I met the manager, Mr. Barry, who soon asked me if I was acquainted with Mllo. Rachel, and then kindly proposed that I should go behind the scenes and send my name to her dressing-room. I did so. My card found her ready dressed far tho next act, and sho camo immediately out. I stood by tho front, and sho came on at tho back. The stago was deep, and down tho long and dimly lighttd aislo between tho side scenes nnd tho wall sho camo with swift steps, tho golden sequins of her Venetian head-dress glittering iu tho glossy darkness of her hair, and her black eyes burning so brightly that when she first appeared, I saw them gleaming through tho gloom before I saw the sequins. Sho put out both hands for a greeting that was rather Anglo-Saxon than French in its simple hearti ness, and, alter a few inquiries about people in New York, wo fell into general talk, aud I told her how very much I had enjoyed the performance that evening. A slight tinge of color came into her pale face (which the coming scene required not to be touehod with rouge), not, I believe, at my compliment, but at her own consciousness, as sho replied: "Ah ! Yes t I nm delighted; for this evening I am playing with my whole heart." After a conversation of a few minutes, in which she w as full of life and spirit, sho asked me to cidl on her tho next day, when, as she did not play that evening, sho would bo en tirely at liberty, and to come about 11 o'clock. I turned my head an instant towards Mr. Barry, who stood a little behind me; and, allh.or.fjh. my KoTcmcat was as plight aa4 aj$ quick as possible, when I looked again sho was vanished out of sight. There was not a foot-fnll, or the rustle of a gown, or even the clink of two sequins. I saw no trace or sign of ' the woman with whom I had been speaking the twinkling of an eye bofore. It was as if she had been swallowed by the earth, or, to Ppeak in keeping with tho plan where wo were, as if she had gone down at my feet through a noiseless trap. I turned, with a look of amazement, to the manager, who said: "Just like her. Now she will stand by herself and take no notice of anything till its timo for her to go on. Will you go to your box?" For. with all his polito attention, Mr. Barry, liko a sensible manager, was not inclined to havo loungers on the stnge while tho business of tho scene was going on. But I needed no invitation to hasten to see that performance from tho front. Tlio next morning I called at tho appointed hour; nnd, after waiting longer than I thought I should have been kept alone when I w is expected, tho door opened, and thero ap- penred,;not Kachel,tut tier sister, Allle. Maraii, w ho brought Rachel's regrets. She was not well enough to see any one. Sho was feverish, had a cough, nnd must nurse herself for to-morrow evening. I took this for a woman's and, if tho ladies of the stage will pardon nm for s lying so, nn actress' put-off. 1 remember her high condition tho evening before, and did not be lieve that she was ill at nil: but that, being lnzy, or bored, or indifferent, or occupied moro to her taste, sho had sent mo this ex cuse. I should havo felt certain of it if sho had sent me also a certificate of her condition from her physician. But I wronged her. She had received her death-warrant, and was never well again. Sho played afterwards, but her performances were unequal in qua lity, and wero frequently interrupted by her inability to bear tho tatiguo ot actin nnd ere long she went back across tho ocean to die. Trilling ns my misjudgment was ono of a kind that a man runs tho risk of at least twelve times a year I never looked agiin into her fading eyes, or heard her short, sharp eon tth without a guilty feeling. And still have it. minidcd with my pleasure at, tho thoucht that 1 saw, under such circumstances, nnd with such stimulating condiment of per sonal intercourse, tho last really complete performance of her whom I believe to havo been tho createst actress tho world ever saw. Will the world see another Rachel? I think not. Nature is not exhausted; but her riches aro taken from her bosom only when they supply a need; and tho need of great actors, or even of acting of a high grade, seems to bo no longer felt. The drama, as an intellectual diversion of tho mind from ono channel to thought into another, has passed away, 1 think, forever. The public, even tho culti vatcd public;, in all countries, prefers that kind of theatrical entertainment at which it is not required to think. It asks, not diver- sion, a tiirniiin of the mind from one object to nnother, but the pleasure of tho senses while the mind lies dormant. It seeks only to be amused. Of this mood, burlesque or "spectacular extravaganza is tho natural an inevitable product. We, of Anglo-Saxon race at least, have probably seen the last o: our legitimate drama. THE ATLANTIC." From tho article entitled "Great Earth quakes in the Old World," wo mako these quotations: Tart of tho imperfection of the record in earlier times is due to tho fact that, of the many thousand shocks in each century, not over the one-hundredth part are of such vio lence as to bo lougremenibered for their effect. Thus the earliest records comprise only thoso disturuces which proved of great desolating power, or T,licb were so con nected w ith human affairs as to l' . deemed omens or judgments. It is only sin" u0 middle of the sixteenth century that tellur.' phenomena have been observed in tho spirit of scientific investigation. The earliest re corded earthquake is that which is mentioned in the Book of Exodus as having attended tho promulgation of tho Mosaic law. From tho obscure description, we may conclude that there took place something liko a volcanic eruption attended by tho usual shock. The geological character of Mount Sinai accords well with the phenomena attributed to it; and although there is no evidence of any consider able eruptions within a timo geologically so recent, there is no question of its true vol canic ntduro, hor is it improbable that suffi cient activity to have produced just tho phe nomena described may havo existed at that time without leaving any traces of activity. It is difficult to imagine any combination of circumstances better calculated . to prodtlce an overwhelming impression on an ignorant and imaginative people, than tho events which Scripture asserts accompanied tho giving of the law. Coming from a region of plains, whore their previous expe rience had shown them only tho most uniform operation of natural agents whore even the annual flood of tho great river came with a regularity which took away from it all convulsive character this impressible people were suddenly confronted with a most im posing volcanic mountuin. And thero, while the mount poured forth tho flames of an eruption and tho ground heaved beneath their feet, Moses proclaimed those laws which sank so deep into the hearts of his people. Thus tho code of laws which has had tho greatest and most far-reaching effect of any ever given to man was stamped upon his mind by the awful phenomena of a volcanic eruption and an earthquake shock. Four other events mentioned in tho Old Testament seem to indicate the action of earthquake forces. The first of theso is de scribed in Numbers xvi, when Korah, Dathan, nnd Abiram were swallowed up by tho open ing earth; but the description of the circum stances does not make it quite clear what was the precise nature of tho event which tho his torinn.meunt to record. At a later time, near tho close of tho wandering in tho desert, we havo tho singular account of tho overthrow of tho wnlls of Jericho, which is probably a confused description of earthquake action. Alter a lapso of six centuries, or about !)()() B. C, we are again told of an carthquako, which is strangely described as a great mid strong wind which rent tho mountains nnd broke in pieces tho rocks. But for tho context, which puts the nature of tho event beyond doubt, one might feci a doubt as to tho character of tho forco displayed. A few years later thero was probably a considerable convulsion in Judea, inasmuch as wo find in Amos i. 1, nnd Zechariah xiv. fi, events dated from an earthquake shock which took place during tho reign of Uzziah, King of Judah. A very severe convulsion desolated Tales tine about !5:i B. C; there is no mention of it in the Scriptures, but profane writers assert that thirty thousand persons lost their lives. In tho New Testament thero is a single earthquake, recorded, namely, that which occurred on the day of tho crucifixion. Tho description of the events connected with this shock, though brief, is quito in accord ance with the usual rcaults of earthquake. action. The rending ot trie veu oi me wmpic tho quaking of the earth, the Riindering c ho rocks, nre phenomena wuicn can oo r f erred to no other ngent. it is not n little rf; mnrknble that the two most important event ii the historv of the Jewish nation, it not e humanity, the giving of the Mosaio Jaw an. the death of Christ, should have been accon: panied by the awful phenomena of earthqnnk shocks. Those who believe that the circurr stances which surrounded these events ar quite mythical must still find this an interest ing fact; for it would, 11 inai view were cor rect, show how deep an impression those my? tenons convulsions had mado on tno minas c the Jews. I The paper on "The 'Hamlets' of th Stnge" has tho following account of Edmun Kean's visits to America: f Early in ho made his first nppenrane in this country at the now theatre in Thilado" hia. His faino had procedod him, but S had George Frederick Cooke, and for seven nights tho admiration for that great actc created a few dissenters. 1 hey soon sue cumbed, nnd, on tho fourth night of his er. fiieeiiient, when lvean appeared as "Hamlet his position at tho head of his profession w admitted. All our leading towns vied wit Philadelphia in enthusiasm, and Keiv crowned his popularity in Boston by charaf terizing the city as "the literary emporium (i the New orld. f But tho spoiled child of fortune was soof to bo visited with the displeasure of th other spoiled child, the public. Roturnm to Boston at an unfavorable season of th1 year, he appeared two nights to thin honso and on tho third, after counting twenty spo; tators through a loophole in the curtain, a. abruptly went to his hotel. The theatr afterwards filled up to respectable number nnd the managers begged him to return, b he declared that ho would not piny to bar walls, nnd that he was packing his trunk t leave the towu. j( It is hardly possible for us to realize he thin-skinned tho American public, an especially theatre-goers, wero to any fancied insult from an Englishman, one or tw generations ago. Thero are many cases i point tho national wrath, not only at foolis nnd unjust books, like those fl Mrs. Trollopo and Basil .- Il2 (though even they contained mud unwelcome truth), but also at such compnrf tively kind ones as "Dickens' America Notes; tho indignant arraignment of Fan Kemble for observing that few Americans a horso well; and the bitterness kindl against, jjiuereauy, m raitimoro, lor uis a leged remark that ho could not get any woo) iu America fit to ninke an arrow of for th shooting-scene in William Tell. Kean's foolif caprice in Boston was construed into Englis contempt for America, and so turned tho fid of feeling against him that there were riotoi demonstrations in various places, which droi him from the country. Just before sailing from New York, b visited Bloomingdale Asylum, as it was hf ms great part, oi -Liear. wiiiio there nstouuded tho superintendent by turnii double somersaults across the garden, and his frenzy he would have leaped from t roof of the house if strong arms had nd seized nun nnd borne him awny. He erected over tlus remains of Geora 17 1 p. 1. r-- l. i l . . " - reuericK uookc a nauusome monument, beat ing me inscription: "Three kinudonin claim his birth, Both lieiiilsiilieres pronounce his worth." It yet stands in St. Taul's church-vard. i the corner of.Vesey street and Broadway. O his last evening in America, tears streame Horn Ins eyes while he stood before it, listoi ing to the chimes of Trinity, and sinpin with great sweetness, "Those evening bells ami Lome over tno sea. lvean carried back to England, as a mog cnensned relic, tbe bones of tho forenn f Cooke s right hand "that dictatorii fincer ' which the great actor had used witJ ...a ''erful effect. Dr. J. W. Frm,,,! hJ Diii'J-i v uin. " " carefully prese7'veil Cooko s skull. Ono even ing, many years Jater, when Hamkt wa! represented at the Park Theatre througj some neglect no skull had been provided foj the gravediggers' scene. A nie'ssengor frotl the manager hastened to Dr. Francis' offloj for one; and Francis furnished tho only onj in his possession that of the veteran aotyr Never before or sinco wero tho familiaj phrases, "Alas! poor.Yorick!" "A fellow oj infinite jest, of most excellent fancy," ani "Your flashes pf merriment, that were won to set the table on a roar," uttered with sue! literal truth as by the "Hamlet" of that even, ing to the skull of tho great actor. j Soon after Kean's return to England, hij dissipations, and an intrigue in which he bs came involved, brought on a series of mis, fortunes, and finally drove him from thjj stnge. Terribly depressed in health ani spirits, and only tho wreck of his former sell! he revisited the United States in tho fall oj lS2.r. His first appearance in New York wai prefaced by a pathetic appeal to tho hos pitality and mercy of tho country. Certahj of the "unco guid," and some of the hoi partisans of Booth, attempted to excit; a riot; but is pleasant to remember that No York gavo to the unfortunate tragedian a gend rous and hearty welcome. J Revisiting Boston, ho said, in a very humbk npology published in all tlio morning news papers: "Acting from the impulse of irrita tion, I was disrespectful to the Boston publiqj Calm deliberation convinces me I was wronfj The first step towards tho throne of mercy confession; tho hope, wo are taught, forgive ness." But five years had not cooled tho rag of tho "literary emporium." The poor acto was twice pelted with nuts, cakes, and bottles He retired to tlio green-room and wept like j' child. Meanwhile the frenzied mob user brickbats and clubs freely, and destroyed f great deal of property; and Kean left tho cit; by night to escape the imminent peril; ' When Kean appeared in Philadelphia, rottei eggs nnd other missiles were rained upon tb stage; but there was a strong police force pre sent nnd arrangements had been perfected t call out the military, so order was quickl restored. Baltimore mobbed him, and hj narrowly escnped tarring and feathering; bu the storm blew over, nnd ho played in th' leading Atlantic cities with great success. Living admirers of Kean never tire of dwel ing upon the wondrous expressiveness of In black, brilliant eyes, his mobile features, th richness, depth, and melancholy of his voice his passionate, meteor-liko transitions, whici thrilled tho beholders with awe. Dr. Fran cis, in his "Old New York," describes him t "the most dexterous harlequin, the mor graceful fencer, most finishod gontlomaE most insidious lover, most terrifio tragedian He had read history, and all concert ing Shnkespenre was familiar to him timet, costumes, habits, and tho' manners of th age." Shakespeare was so famili; to hiit "that I never knew him to look at tho writ, ings of the great poet, save once at A7i John, for nny preparation for the stage." 5 H e wns full of eccentricities, always requif ing his servant to pick up and remove with i rnir of torgs newspaper wliica abiwed him I
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers