dragon, on which the gods seize him, drag the tarn-cap from his head, and carry him to the celestial abodes.

Alberich is now made to give up the ring and the treasure of which it is the key, but attaches his curse to it, which should always be baneful to the possessor. When the ransom is about to be paid to the giants, it is found that it does not suffice, and Wotan is obliged to add the helmet and the ring to complete the terms of the agreement by which Freia is to be restored. He is then informed by Hertha, the great earth-mother, the symbol of the primeval power of the universe, that his own avarice and injustice threaten the end of his reign and the doom of the celestial gods, fixed by the decrees of Fate.

The "Walküren," the first drama of the trilogy proper, contains the life and death of Siegmund and Siegelinde. Wotan, to create the inspired hero who is to save him from the fatal power of the gold of the Nibelungs, assumes human form and begets twin children, Siegmund and Siegelinde. Separated from his sister in infancy, the young hero has been trained by his father to every feat of manly strength, and becomes the terror of all his enemies. At last, vanquished by overwhelming odds, Siegmund is obliged to take refuge in the house of Hunding in the darkness of night. He is protected by the law of hospitality, but, when he reveals his adventures, he is recognized by his host as the slayer of his father and brethren, and challenged to fight on the morrow.

His hostess, in listening to his story, has vague memories of childhood awakened, for she is Siegelinde. She tells how a mighty stranger had entered the house once on a festal occasion, and smote his sword into the roof-tree, so deep that none could remove it, then strode forth again without a word.

This was Wotan, who had thus left his sword for his son's use. Siegmund instantly seizes the hilt and wrenches it from its hold in the wood, thus proving his divine descent. Between the pair, unknowing each other, a great passion had sprung up, and there then follows a love-scene of exquisite beauty, as may be judged from the fragments of the music which have been given at the Thomas

concerts.

In the ensuing combat, the heart of Wotan is on the side of his son, but Fricka, his spouse, the protectress of the marriage-vow, insists that adultery shall be punished, and Siegmund is slain. Brunhilde, the Valkyrie, the favorite daughter of Wotan, now enters, and her heart is touched with pity at the misfortunes of the pair. As the hero falls, pierced by Wotan's spear, Brunhilde seizes Siegelinde, bearing her babe unborn, and carries her off, followed by the angry pursuit of the god, and the wild outcries of her sisters. Wotan's anger at first threatens to divest Brunhilde of her divinity and leave her an easy prey to any who might seek her. But he remembers that she had incurred her punishment in trying to save her father from his fate in spite of himself. He cannot revoke a sentence, but he will save her from dishonor. He closes Brunhilde's eyes with a kiss, and encircles her with a ring of magic fire. Only the hero who shall pass the flame shall

possess the sleeping Valkyrie. With this scene ends the first opera of the trilogy. Siegfried, the hero of the second, is brought up as the child of Nature under the care of Mime the dwarf, for he is the son of Siegmund and Siegelinde, born in the wilderness and cared for by the compassionate gnome. His divine nature early declares itself by his heroic strength and feats in arms. He is the hero to whose prowess the redemption of gods and men from the curse of gold is reserved. As a mere youth he slays the giant Fafner, who in the shape of a dragon guards the Nibelungen hoard. He then bathes in the dragon's blood, which renders him invulnerable in all spots except where a figleaf falls on his back. He wrests from his fallen foe the magic ring and the tarn-cap; and, as he sits under the tree after the victory, he learns from the singing of the birds, whose language the possession of the ring deciphers for him, who he is.

Siegfried's next feat is to break through the ring of magic fire guarding the sleeping maiden and kiss her on the lips, thereby arousing her from her trance. In the passion of the kiss the goddess is forgotten in the woman, and Brunhilde becomes the spouse of Siegfried.

In the "Götterdämmerung," the hero Siegfried, through the effect of a love-philter, is made to forget his Valkyr wife, and becomes enamored with Chriemhild, the sister of King Gunther of Worms. So far does he carry his indifference and new infatuation as to accompany Gunther to Isenstein, the residence of the deceived Valkyrie, and, by his magic powers of the tarn-cap and the ring, compel Brunhilde to become Gunther's wife. Hence arise bitter hate between the two female rivals, and the cause of Siegfried's death. Hagen, one of the Burgundian king's heroes, half-demon, half-man, being the son of Alberich, wishes, for his own purposes, to kill Siegfried, that he may get the tarn-cap and ring, with the treasure dependent on them. King Gunther, through the influence of the slighted Brunhilde, is taken into the plot, and Siegfried is stabbed in the vulnerable place of the back, made known by Brunhilde, while on a hunting-excursion.

The murdered hero is burned with magnificent pomp by his assassins, and Brunhilde, repentant, her old love surging back in full force, leaps on the funeral-pile. Through the agency of fire she is transformed again from woman to goddess, and the two, purified from earthly taint, are reunited. With the entrance of Siegfried into the story commences the reign of free human impulse and aspiration, and the decadence of the rule of Fate and the ancient gods. With his death the twilight of the gods settles down over the story. It is impossible here, as also contrary to the purpose of the article, to dwell on the profound meaning of the series of myths embodied in the story of the "Nibelungen." The beauty and poetry of the hidden purpose have a clearly-defined connection with the music, and Wagner has done vastly more than simply to illustrate a mythical narrative in the language of tone. But, for the present, what we have already said must suffice.

By the use of what he calls leading mo

tives in the music, the composer knits the whole structure together into a symmetrical and organic growth. As each important character, on recurring action, is introduced, the hearer recognizes it by its characteristic strain, and it is linked with what has gone before. But few choruses are used in the trilogy, the principal ones being the Rhine maidens, the Valkyries, and King Gunther's warriors. Properly speaking, there are no duets, but only dialogues, in which the personages take part as in speaking. The most marked characteristic of the trilogy is the marvelous use made of the orchestra, the instruments being made to give coloring and warmth, to fill up all the gaps of description, and, in a word, to play the purpose of the chorus in the old Greek tragedy.

So many fragments of the "Nibelungen" triology have been given by Mr. Thomas that it is easy to imagine the marvelous beauty of the whole, though no operas will so little bear judgment by detached extracts as those of Wagner. The power of such works hinges on the ensemble, the effect of the whole on the imagination of the audience. The hints derived from the above imperfect synopsis of the story will enable the reader to get some idea of the colossal nature of this great work of Wagner. A band of one hundred and twenty instruments, the finest concentration of talent in Germany; scenery, on an unprecedented scale, painted by the first artists of Europe; and a theatre with the largest stage ever built, will insure such a presentation as will make a new era in art-history.

MR. BARRY SULLIVAN'S Richard III. exhibits in the main the same qualifications displayed in Hamlet and Richelieu. The tameness which we remarked in Hamlet scarcely appears in Richard, although all the same the performance lacks fire. One sees before him a broad and strongly-marked personation -a moving, stirring, picturesque figure; he listens to a clear, flexible, and intelligent reading of the text; he notes an adequate mastery of the actor's art in all the different situations and scenes; he finds that all is careful, elaborate, full of emphasis, and tone, and color-and yet all the time failing to give the deepest insight, and missing that something which thrills and takes command of an audience. It is to be noted, too, that the performance is designed to seize upon the grosser instincts and passions of the listeners. The character is depicted with all its darker tints strongly brought out-the brutality, the fierceness, the dark villainy, have no gradation and no shading; all the scheming and wicked features of the character are delineated in every look and motion, so all may see that this is a villain. These strong colors, however, fail to greatly stir the auditors, for there can be no substitute, even with the uncultured mass, for the passion that flashes with true fire. The sum of our judgment of Mr. Barry Sullivan, therefore, is, that he is an intelligent, well-trained, picturesque actor, whose voice is clear and pleasant, whose readings are good, whose knowledge of the stage is complete, but whose personations have neither great power nor subtile insight.

MR. DALY, being prevented from opening. his season with "Rose Michel," revived the popular comedy of "Saratoga" for the occasion. We had hoped that the preposterous nonsense of this play was forever buried, but what is evil in the dramatic world is apt to have a very tenacious life. It is too late to criticise "Saratoga." Every theatre-goer knows that it is like the whole army of American comedies in its amazing unlikeness to any thing in American society, and that it is made up from innumerable fragments derived from time-honored English farces, as if it were a sort of dramatic Joseph's coat of many colors. It is a play that people laugh at heartily, but, while a man of judgment may laugh, he can at the same time but feel irritated that such stuff should be offered as a picture of manners. If the author, now, would only call it a burlesque or a farce, no injustice would be done either to art or to society. Mr. Daly's actors give good effect to the nonsense, and rarely fail to make the burlesque any less palpably foolish than the author designed.

Correspondence.

FLOWERS AND PLANTS IN WASHINGTON.

To the Editor of Appletons' Journal.

SIR: Some weeks since your JOURNAL contained an earnest plea for floral decoration in cities.

A tolerably large acquaintance with American cities has shown me none in which there is so much "window" and "front-yard" gardening as in Washington. There are many towns in the South and some cities where, at certain seasons of the year, one walks the streets enveloped in an aroma of fragrant native flowers, shrubs, and vines.

It is not that in Washington, however, the flowers, vines, shrubs, and trees cultivated are not merely such as are indigenous to the locality; they are from all quarters of the globe. Hardly does a plant (I use the word generically for vegetable growth) make its appearance in the florists' catalogues before you begin to see it in the windows or door-yards of the city, according to its hardiness and the requirements of its nature.

Undoubtedly this is very largely due to the presence here of the "Congressional," "Agricultural," and "Propagating" Gardens, wherein novelties are constantly being tested, and whence Congressmen and executive officers of the government, under certain restrictions and regulations, obtain slips and seeds for their own use or that of their friends.

Something, too, is due to our peculiar climate that gives us such memorable springs and falls. Mr. Smith, of the Congressional Garden, points out three trees near the entrance of one of the buildings, the respective habitats of which are Japan, the Crimea, and Maryland.

But when all allowance for climate and accessible gardens has been made, there remains the moral or aesthetic reason of this universality of flower-culture. I will not say that that reason is larger in Washington than elsewhere. I only leave you to your own inferences. The fact is, there is not a two-room "shanty" upon the outskirts of the city, dwelt in by blacks, who (as gender determines) wash or

whitewash, that hasn't got at least its hangingbasket bright with geraniums and lobelia, and graceful with pendulous money wort and tradescantia. And from that up and on-to whole house-fronts alive with flowers, yards beautified with beds, and chimneys covered with wistaria and the Virginia creeper. The ivies, too, that farther north fare badly, are here luxuriant beyond description. The chapel at Oak Hill Cemetery, and the lodge at the Glenwood entry to the Soldiers' Home, no one can forget who has ever seen them. There is an immense amount of ugly brick-and-mortar here that finds its raison d'être in the screen of ivy it supports.

Singularly happy is Washington, too, in front-yards.

splendid with foliage and plants, and perfumed with madeira-vine!

It can't be done, unless you have an imagination as tremendous as the asserted strength of the Keeley motor.

But our Washington "unskilled labor " lives with just such surroundings.

Wherefore, I rejoice over this our capital city-as I know you would if you could see it. R. D. M. WASHINGTON, September 10, 1875.

From Abroad.

OUR PARIS LETTER.

September 1, 1875.

the avenues, which traverse at various angles the rectangles made by the streets, vary in width from eighty-five to one hundred and sixty feet.

Until a few years ago, these distances were enormous, useless, and a waste. It impoverished abutters to pave them; and when paved it surpassed civic ability to keep them in repair. So in winter they were mud, in summer they were dust.

Six or seven years ago Congress authorized the parking of the centre of the streets (or most of them). One or two such "parks" were made that is to say, stones were put down on each side of the street, and for a breadth of twenty feet in the middle turf. It was soon a question which was the barer and more disagreeable, the pavement or the parking.

-a

In the process of time there came to uswhat I believe you have heard of in New York "Board of Public Works." One of that board had an idea-he knew what to do with these dreary widths of street and avenue-and he and his fellow-members did it.

First, they put the carriage-way in the middle of the street, and narrowed it to, say, from thirty to fifty feet in width; then they put twelve to twenty feet of sidewalk on each side; and then the rest of the street was put into parking in front of and adjoining each house. A strip of from ten to forty feet in width was thus added to each house-lot. It was turfed by "the board," and sometimes fenced. That done, their supervision ceased. The houseowner had as absolute jurisdiction over it as if he had bought it, except that he could not build upon it. He might put flowers, fountains, trees, in it. And, I may add, he did. These front-lots, these grass-plots, are cared for even by the humblest householder, whereas with the centre-parking there was no one to water and shear and roll and manure it; but each house-width of the side-parking has its custodian and curator.

Taste has been cultivated, the appearance of the streets has been benefited, and the public health promoted.. All the advantages of free circulation of air that come from broad streets are conserved, as well as the great protection afforded by them against the spread of fire; while the cost of expanded carriage-ways, breeding dust and mire, is done away; and the many hygienic influences that come from grass and plants are secured. And all this, mind you, is not done for the benefit of our Fifth Avenue people (whoever they may be) alone, but for the common people." Imagine a London "navvy," or a New York "longshoreman," or a Philadelphia "coalheaver," living in a house with from ten to forty feet of front - yard, green with grass,

rama of "The Siege of Paris," now being executed in the vast building originally occupied by "Les Pompes Funèbres," which is destined for America. The great success of the panorama of the same subject, on the ChampsElysées, evidently fired the American soul with a desire to possess the like, and negotiations of all kinds were opened, respecting not only the already existing picture, but another of the same subject by the same artist, M. Philippoteaux. The first idea was found to be impracticable. The Compagnie Générale des Panoramas refused to sell their picture except at a price far beyond that paid for its execution, as its powers of attraction were in no wise diminished by the lapse of two years since the date at which it had first been exhibited. Notwithstanding the high prices charged for admission, it continues to be one of the most popular and bestfrequented of all the sights of Paris. Then M. Philippoteaux was applied to, but he could not conceive the possibility of painting the picture anywhere but in the building wherein it was to be exhibited, and he positively refused to take a journey to New York for the purpose. The enterprise was finally confided to Colonel Lienard, its present director, and, under his intelligent and skillful management, the gigantic picture is rapidly approaching completion. The mechanical difficulties of the work have been marvelously overcome. The giant canvas is stretched flat on the floor of the great building appropriated to the enterprise. As soon as a portion of the painting of sufficient dimensions is completed, the surface is covered with paper, and the finished part is rolled up, thus bringing an unpainted section of the canvas within reach of the artist's brush. The finished picture will be three hundred metres long, and over fifteen wide. It will be even finer than its prototype in the Champs-Elysées, being taken from a far better point of view-namely, the Prussian batteries on the heights of Chatillon, which overlooked all Paris and its environs, and from which a superb view of the whole city could be obtained. A peculiar feature of this exhibition will be the introduction of life-sized figures, in papier mâché, of men and horses, by which the eye will be insensibly carried from the reality to the painting. These figures are modeled with painstaking accuracy, and are even startlingly life-like. Special messengers have been dispatched to Metz for the necessary Prussian uniforms, helmets, weapons, etc.. The artistic part of the panorama has been confided to a corps of artists, among which are some of the leading exhibitors at the Salon of this year, and notably M. Betsellier, whose fine equestrian portrait of Marshal MacMahon was so much admired. Over four hundred sketches were painted to serve as models for the work. The panorama is to be shipped

on the 8th of October, and is to be first exhibited in New York; it is then to be transferred to Philadelphia for the Centennial.

Glady Brothers publish this week "The Fencing Rooms of Paris," by M. A. de SaintAlbin. This curious work contains a list of over four hundred of the best fencers in Paris, together with biographical sketches of one hunred of the most celebrated among them, ineluding the notorious duelist Paul de Cassagnac. It is, moreover, embellished with a frontispiece and thirty portraits, etched by Courtry, and comprising likenesses of the King of Spain, the Dukes d'Aumale and de Chartres, Carolus Duran, etc. Furne Jouvet & Co. announce the speedy termination of "The Popular History of France," by Henri Martin, which they have been issuing in numbers for some time past. The first three volumes are out, and the fourth and fifth, which complete the work, are shortly to appear. Ducher & Co., the architectural publishers, are about to issue "The New Opera-House of Paris," by Charles Garnier, the architect thereof. It will include full and exhaustive notices of the statues, bronzes, paintings, etc., as well as a description of the architectural details of the building. Michel Lévy has just published a novel by George Sand, entitled "The Two Brothers; " and one of those morality-and-water productions peculiar to that division of French literature which is intended for young girls, entitled "The Book of a Mother," which consists of dissertations on dolls, story - books, matrimony, and other kindred subjects. The notorious Madame Rattazzi has given to the world a new volume of poetry, entitled "The Shadow of Death." E. Plon has just issued a charming book entitled "Portraits of Great Ladies," by the Baron Imbert de Saint-Amand, which includes biographical sketches of Mademoiselle de la Vallière, the Duchess de Berri, Marie Antoinette, the Princess de Lamballe, and others.

In default of a present court and sovereign, we learn occasionally some anecdotes respecting the royalty of the past. The following story is told of the Duchess de Berri: She was extremely fond of Dieppe, and passed a great deal of her time there in summer; indeed, it is said that the town owes to her fostering patronage the establishment of the workshops for the production of those exquisite ivory carvings which are well known to every stranger that ever tarried at Dieppe. One summer evening a fisherman met a plainly - dressed lady walking alone on the beach. He ventured to accost her, saying that he had a petition which he wished to present to the Duchess de Berri, but that he did not know how to proceed in order to do so. "Did you ever see the duchess?" asked the lady. "No," was the answer, "but I am told that she is deuced ugly." "Give me the petition, at all events," said his questioner, "and it shall be placed in the hands of the princess herself." The fisherman complied with the request, and a few days later he was summoned to the villa of the duchess. What was his dismay, on being introduced to the presence of the princess, to find that she was the person to whom he had given his petition! He commenced to stammer forth some incoherent excuse, but Marie Caroline interrupted him. "Your petition is granted," she said, smiling, "and henceforth, when people say that the Duchess de Berri has an ugly face, do you add, 'But she has also a kind heart!'"'

The reply of a mayor of a small provincial town to King Louis Philippe has also been quoted recently. The avarice of the good king, as is well known, was proverbial. One day, while in one of his royal progresses

throughout France, he presented, for some reason or other, a rich flag to the municipality of some town whereat he had halted. The mayor received the precious gift with an elaborate speech of thanks. As he continued to hold it, the king said to him: "Monsieur le Maire, I fear that you will find that flag very heavy." "O sire," responded the mayor, with a profound obeisance, "the gifts of your majesty are never heavy!"

M. Villemessant has recently commenced in the Figaro the second series of his amusing "Memoirs of a Journalist," and has consecrated the first two or three numbers to his friend and collaborator, Jules Lecomte. From an article on Rachel, published by M. Lecomte in the Figaro, shortly after the death of the great actress, he quotes the following curious anecdote:

"A few days after the death of King Louis Philippe, the Prince de Joinville brought to his mother a drawing which he had just finished. This admirably-executed design represented an allegorical group. In the upper

part to the right was seen St. Louis, covered with the royal mantle spotted with fleurs-delis, and kneeling before the Virgin, the traditionary protectress of the kingdom of France. Far off, and in the guise of an angel, vaguely shadowed forth amid the clouds, appeared the soul of Louis Philippe, soaring toward the skies. And beneath the cloud lay a tossed and stormy sea, on which floated the ship of state beaten by the tempestuous waves.

"This drawing, which was executed in India ink, was sent to Paris by the widowed queen, to be engraved. The royal artist had intended it for his mother's prayer-book, but the queen desired to possess several reproductions of it. One of the best engravers of Paris had the work confided to him, and twenty copies only of the impression were struck off.

"The orders of Marie Amélie were carried out with rigorous exactness. The twenty plates were forwarded to London, the engraver not daring to retain even a single one for himself. On the back of the engraving could be read, in fac-simile, the following lines which the queen had written beneath the touching gift of her son: The king shall disappear in his strength and in his glory, and the nations shall be covered with mourning.'

"Mademoiselle Rachel learned, heaven knows how, all these particulars. She ardently desired to possess one of these rare plates, and she wrote on the subject to General de Rumigny. The request was submitted to the queen, who returned the following answer: 'Mademoiselle Rachel shall have the engraving on the day of her conversion to Catholicism.'"

Several anecdotes of Rachel follow. M. de Villemessant speaks of her passion for playing cards, and says: "She seized every occasion to organize a game. But if she lost twenty or thirty sous she became extremely angry. One evening she left the table and broke up the game, exclaiming against every one. An hour later her brother entered; he came to ask her for four hundred dollars, a sum of which he declared he was in the greatest need, and she gave it at once and without hesitation.

"She invented one day a new and exquisite style of bath. It consisted of perfumed soap-suds beaten with wires till the bath-tub was filled to the brim with a snowy scented foam. She loved to plunge into this mass of pearly bubbles, and these baths were her favorite form of refined toilet luxury.

"Her orthography was never beyond re

proach. One day, wishing to thank the Minister of the Interior, M. Bouche, for some official favor, she wrote him a letter which she showed, before sending, to Arsène Houssaye. He advised her to rewrite it for the purpose of correcting sundry faults in the spelling. 'Bah! let it go,' she cried; 'it will only look all the more sincere.'"'

The dramatic event of the past week has been the rentrée of Mademoiselle Delaporte, at the Gymnase, in the role of Frou-Frou. Originally written for her, and afterward created by Mademoiselle Desclée, who made the part peculiarly her own, she has often played like characters in Russia, but never before in Paris. It is said that she undertook the task with the greatest reluctance, dreading the effect on the audience of the souvenirs of her brilliant and regretted predecessor. The event showed that she was more than half right. In the first two acts she lacked the requisite grace and vivacity for the proper embodiment of the spoiled, petted, frivolous heroine. But when the more tragic scenes were reached, and when guilt, and sorrow, and remorse, became the portion of poor little Frou-Frou, her acting was marvelously forcible and real. She is a great actress despite her plain face and her lack of taste in dress, and she will fill a niche in the Gymnase that has been too long left vacant. Coquelin the younger, who left the Comédie Française in a pet because Sarah Bernhardt was named sociétaire instead of him, has made his debut at the Variétés, in a piece called "La Guigne." The play was a failure, and the style of the young actor, bred amid the refined traditions and scholarly graces of La Comédie, was found to be as much out of place at Les Variétés as blue-seal Johannisberg would be in a rum-shop. He will have to vulgarize himself if he wishes to make a place for himself at the Variétés. The Bouffes Parisiens and the Renaissance reopen this evening, the first with Theo in the "Jolie Parfumeuse," and the latter with "GirofléGirofla." Madame Theo is engaged at the Bouffes for three years, at the by no means astounding salary of three hundred dollars per month. The Odéon and the Ambigu are now the only leading theatres of Paris that remain closed. M. Valdejo, a young provincial tenor, sang for a few nights at the Opéra Comique last week with great success, in " Zampa and "La Dame Blanche." He goes to Lyons to fulfill a previous engagement, but returns to the Opéra Comique as a permanent pensionnaire next spring. Mademoiselle Jeanne Samory, who has just made so brilliant a début at the Comédie Française (her first appearance on any stage), is a niece of the celebrated Augustine Brohan. It is predicted that she will prove a dangerous rival to Croizette. The "Jeanne d'Arc" of Mermet is in active preparation at the Grand Opéra. Faure is to personate Charles VII., Miolan Carvalho is to be Agnes Sorel, and Mademoiselle Krauss the Jeanne.

LUOY H. HOOPER.

OUR LONDON LETTER. MR. HENRY NEVILLE, the energetic manager of the Olympic, is about to do a remarkable thing. True, he is not going to swim across the British Channel either in a Boyton suit or in pure naturalibus. His will be a much different achievement. He is on the point of playing Bob Brierly in "The Ticket-of-Leave Man" for the thousandth time. Bob, you of course know, is Mr. Neville's original character, and very pathetically and forcibly does

he sustain it. The revival of the piece at his theatre has turned out a trump card; it has already run over three hundred nights. At the Strand we still have "Weak Woman" and Mr. Farnie's burlesque of "Nemesis," and these, during the last week or two, have been preceded by a very funny little farce-all farces are not funny-called "Two to One," a title which is explained by the fact that the plot turns upon the loves of two house-maids for one man in livery. It is by "Mr. Arthur Clements," otherwise Mr. Baker, the dramatic critic of the Hour, which "daily," by-theway, still lags behind wofully. Another play which is having a long run-as I write, its onehundred and thirty-ninth representation is about to take place-is Mr. Halliday's adaptation of "Nicholas Nickleby." This is being given at the Adelphi, and was shortly to have made way for an adaptation, also by Mr. Halliday, of" Martin Chuzzlewit." As, however, that gentleman is confined to his bed, and has been ordered rest, it's probable he won't be able to finish the piece for some time yet. Many of your readers who know Mr. Halliday as the genial president of the Savage Club will share in my regret at his illness.

Superstitious people-those people, as Mr. H. J. Byron has described them, who, if they go under a ladder and a brick falls on them, blame the ladder, and not the brick-are beginning to shake their heads and declare that the Mirror-the old Holborn-never can be kept up to the paying point. Well, they have good reason to look upon it just now as a house of ill-omen, for its lessee, Mr. Horace Wigan, has certainly made a fiasco. He has withdrawn "The Detective" (which was a fair success), and produced a translation of an old French drama-" The Dogs of St. Bernard." He has done this in order to show off some splendid canine specimens which he has brought over from Paris; but, unfortunately, these same canine specimens-and, you must know, they are very important characters in the play-won't act; indeed, when I saw them, they went through their parts so reluctantly that, had they been human beings, they would inevitably have been hissed off the stage-or, 28 a "pro." would put it, "goosed." The play itself, too, has no earthly interest; it is as unreal as can be. The plot turns upon a false charge of murder brought by a wicked captain against a young artist, of whose wife he is enamored, and whom he wishes to carry off. The principal dog-actor is the means of saving this young man's life as he is flying from pursuit-at least, so we are told, but we don't see him do it; and the same dog also saves the life of a baby who is hanging over a yawning abyss-that we do see him do. Altogether, the sooner "The Dogs of St. Bernard" is withdrawn, the better for the management. This will be done very soon, for a new piece by Mr. Wigan himself-its title is "Self"-is announced.

It would seem that the china mania has extended even to his holiness the pope-that is, if a dignitary of our Church-Archdeacon Matthias-is to be credited. The archdeacon has written to that most bigoted of Protestant sheets, the Rock, to assure the world that, when he was in a Burslam pottery-manufactory recently, he was shown some dinnerplates which the pope had ordered, and which, he was told, would cost his holiness twenty pounds each. The reverend gentleman's argument, of course, is that the pope lives very extravagantly. I'm not a Roman Catholic myself, but I should just like to ask this question-Don't the Protestant bishops do ditto? Mr. Whalley, M. P., who sees a popish plot

in every thing, can answer the query if he likes.

Some miniature copies of the Bible-indeed, according to the publishers, the Oxford University Press, the smallest that have ever yet been issued-have just been put into circulation here. Though each of them measures only four and one-half by three and threequarters by one-half inches, and weighs, when bound in limp morocco-leather, something under three and one-half ounces, the type is quite clear, and readable to ordinary eyes. They are printed on very thin India paper, and altogether are quite curiosities in their way, as Caxton would admit if he could only see them, for not even he, I'm sure, could have foreseen that the art of printing would be brought to such perfection.

have just had the misfortune to witness the most vulgar dramatic performance I ever saw on the English or any other stage. A few evenings ago there was produced at the little Charing Cross Theatre a very weak and coarse adaptation of a very weak and stupid French opéra bouffe. It is called "Dagobert," and the music (which is second rate all through) is by Hervé. The librettist of the English version is a Mr. Richard Sellman-a gentleman who ought to go at once and hide his head under a bushel or any thing else that may happen to be handy. The puns are bad, the jokes are bad, the whole book is bad. As for the plot, that is ludicrous enough in all conscience. Mr. Sellman himself shall tell it:

"On the day the opera commences Dagobert is about to be married to the Princess Fleur d'Amour, daughter of the all-powerful monarch of Trafalgabar. He is preparing for her reception, when arrives upon the scene, much to his discomfiture, Mdlle. Cunégonde, a country lass, who holds his pledge to make her Queen of France, and to whom he had promised to consecrate this day, the anniversary of the feast of Bacchus-a feast famous in the days of Dagobert. She, finding his wedding-dress, begins to suspect the state of affairs, and, determining to foil him, makes a parcel of his wedding-suit, and takes it away with her, leaving in its place the costume of a Bacchaute. The arrival of the princess and suite being announced, he is forced to receive her in his dressing-gown. They are all greatly disgusted at such a proceeding, but at his request the bridal party accord him four minutes to complete his toilet. The king locks them into an inner apartment, when once more arrives upon the scene Malle. Cunégonde, who, discovering the truth of the king's marriage, Vows vengeance as the marriage party are starting for the ceremony. The second act

curing the escape of the princess, when he is discovered by the king, who calls on the guard, and proves himself to be King of France. They all crave his pardon, which he grants, and all ends happily."

But it is neither the plot nor the words to which I take exception; one always expects to find both of these, in pieces of the kind, in a great measure pointless and absurd. What I object to—and what, I am glad to say, others objected to-was the stage business. This, in some parts of the piece, was indelicate in the extreme. She who may be safely described as the most impudent actress in this great metropolis, Miss Pattie Laverne, was perhaps "broader" than ever, while as for Mr. Odell, who is a weak imitation of Mr. Terry, of the Strand, and who played Diamond Eye, he was simply disgusting. The scene in which he is divested of every thing save an imaginary chemise, was too much even for an audience which was mainly composed of fashionable young bloods about town. They hissed vociferously, and at that point your humble servant, I am bound to say, left. Of course the lord-chamberlain was not present. Probably Mr. W. R. Field, the manager, knew he was "rusticating." This last-named gentleman would seem to be doing his best to bring the stage into fresh disrepute, which is really too bad, to say the least, after all the fine talk there has been about the regeneracy of the legitimate drama.

Mr. John P. Clarke is now appearing at the Haymarket nightly in those well-worn characters Dr. Pangloss and Major Wellington de Boots. Among others, Miss Linda Dietz supports him. He draws here as much as ever. London must surely be his El Dorado.

"Mr. W. H. Wills is writing a new play " --so runs one of our literary announcements. But, after all, this can scarcely be called news, for the same might safely be said of every other living dramatist. Mr. H. J. Byron, for instance, is at present writing two new plays; and-what is more he has them "placed." By-the-way, here is another anecdote of this most popular of dramatists: Years ago he was lessee of a Liverpool theatre. At the time to him came a friend, who, on his shaking hands with him, and inquiring how he felt, replied that he had just taken some spirituous compound, which did not agree with him. "Cheer up, old boy!" exclaimed Mr. Byron, patting him on the back; "I'm worse off than you. I've taken the Theatre Royal, and that doesn't agree with me!"

WILL WILLIAMS.

She keeps the king in a continual state of hot water, makes him her prisoner, and prohibits him from rejoining his bride until such should be her (Cunégonde's) good will and pleasure.

He escapes, and is pursued by the vindictive

country lass, but he refuses to submit to her tyranny any further, when she, goaded to frenzy, calls the guard, and hands the king into custody. He protests, but is so disguised that not even his own soldiers can recognize him. The captain of the guard arrests not only the king, but Cunégonde and her companions, so as to make certain of the right party. In act three we see the king in prison. The princess and her mother also soon arrive, having been arrested at the feast of Bacchus, where they went in search of the truant husband king, they also being disguised. An old lover of the princess-Diamond Eye-disguised as a cantineer of the period, effects an entrance into the prison, for the purpose of se

AN ARTIFICIAL AURORA.

is probable that, of all the familiar celes tial phenomena, there is none which more attracts and interests the observer than that of the aurora borealis. While much of this interest is doubtless due to the peculiarly striking and beautiful character of the phenomenon itself, a certain degree must be credited to the mystery which surrounds it. Even at the present day, when, by the labors of astronomer and physicist, the causes of nearly all other celestial phenomena have been made plain, the problem suggested by the aurora still remains unsolved-at least, students are of various minds regarding its proper solu tion; and, if the true answer has yet been given, it still requires a complete verification.

In a recent note we announced that an eminent authority had suggested, as a probable cause, the illumination, by refraction, of suspended dust-particles, which, retained in the atmosphere, received and reflected light that would otherwise be invisible to those on the earth's surface.

It is our present purpose to make plain, by the aid of a simple illustration, the theory that electric currents, passing through the atmosphere at the polar regions, are the true source of illumination. The apparatus was one of the attractive objects at the late Geographical Exhibition at Paris, and was daily put in operation by M. Mohn, director of the meteorological service of Sweden.

A is an electrical machine, the negative pole being connected with a copper sphere, B, and the positive with the earth. This sphere B stands for the earth, while the remaining portions of the apparatus may be described as follows:

The base or stand is formed of two non

In

B

conducting cross-pieces, S, S, and R, R. the present instance these are of ebonite. also rests on a column of similar material, and is as much isolated as the earth in space. At the points h on the frame two non-conducting rods project, which are connected by a curved bar extending from g to k. Upon this bar are fastened a series of Gassler-tubes, a', a', a', with copper ends above and below; all these ends above are united at o with a wire which leads to the earth. The copper points from the lower ends of the tubes extend but a short distance toward the sphere B.

As thus constructed B represents the earth. The space between B and the lower ends of the tubes a is the non-illuminated atmosphere, while the tubes themselves are in the place occupied by the aurora. To reproduce the desired phenomena the electrical machine is charged; the current, then passing to the sphere B, leaps from it to the projecting

points of the tubes, and, in its passage along these tubes, effects the illumination which stands for the northern lights.

The novel feature of this experiment is that which adapts it for use in the atmosphere, proving, as it does, that rarefied air may act as a conducting medium between the overcharged earth and the atmosphere of the upper regions.

THE CLINICAL THERMOSCOPE.

THE importance of determining the temperature of the body in cases of suspected disorder has been so clearly established that already the literature on this subject is extended and various, and the physician of the present day holds the thermometer in as high esteem as did the old practitioner his lancet and cupping-glass. "Bodily temperature," writes Dr. Seguin, in his "Manual of Thermometry," "is the true and visible index either of steady health, of sickly tendencies, of impending or actual sickness, of imminent danger, or of unavoidable dissolution. The other vital signs are precious-temperature alone is indispensable." Before describing the little instrument before us, a few general facts pertaining to the subject may be of interest and possible value. The normal temperature of health, or norme, is 98.6° Fahr., and the maintenance of this temperature under varying conditions is a proof of sound health. The range of temperature in severe diseases is between 95° and 108.5°

Fahr. Influences which in no way disturb the temperature of the healthy, derange that of the sick; hence the discovery of abnormal temperatures in men previously healthy is a means of determining or confirming the existence of latent disease.

Alterations of temperature may be confined to special regions, while the rest of the body remains almost normal.

Temperatures much below 96.8° Fahr. are 'collapse" temperatures, while those at or above 100.4° Fahr. are febrile or fever temperatures. The general method of taking the temperature is to insert the bulb of the thermometer beneath the fold of the muscle under the arm-that is, in the armpit, or axilla. The arm on that side is to be carried across the chest, and thus held so that the bulb may be inclosed in the muscles for eight or ten minutes.

From the authority above quoted (“Medical Thermometry," C. A. Wunderlich), we obtain certain additional facts of interest: As yet the influence of sex in temperature has not been determined, nor that of race, though Livingstone found that the temperature of the natives of South Africa was 2° Fahr. less than our own. A difference of occupation or habits of life seems to have no direct influence on the normal temperature. There is a slight oscillation even in healthy persons according to the time of day. Mental exertion raises the temperature from 2.5° to 5o.

Having thus demonstrated the importance of watching these thermometric changes, we would direct the attention of mothers, particularly, to a simple appliance contrived by Dr. Seguin, and named by him the clinical thermoscope. "Let mothers learn to regard disease as a natural phenomenon," said Dr. Seguin, in a recent conversation, "and observe accordingly, and the labors of the physician can be directed with far greater certainty and promise of success." It was that this practice of intelligent observation might be fostered and rendered serviceable that this instrument was contrived, and already it has been freely distributed by Dr. Seguin among the mothers to whom he renders service in the treatment of their children.

As seen by the illustra tion, the clinical thermoscope is a glass tube, a quarter of a line bore, seven inches long, closed at one end by a bulb, and open at the other end. In this state it contains nothing but air.

To make the thermoscope ready for clinical use, its bulb is heated over a lamp or fire, or in a bowl of "hot water," and when the air contained in the bulb is dilated a few degrees above the ambient temperature, the open end is quickly plunged in an inch deep-and at once withdrawn from another bowl of "cold water." The drop or two, which will have then entered the mouth, is seen to run up the tube. If it stops near the bulb, it will be the "index" of the thermoscope. If it stops sooner, say two or three inches from the mouth, or if it runs into the bulb, the latter was too cold or too hot; we have to jerk away that drop of water and Dr. E. Seguin's Thermoscope. recommence; three or four tri

als to obtain a good "water- Diagram-Half-size. index" take hardly a minute.

The point at which the instrument is applied is the palm of the hand. By the aid of the movable scale the standard of comparison can be established. In the extended description of the instrument given by Dr. Seguin, the mother is furnished with full directions as to its use and the nature of the observations to be made. We have accom plished our desired object in directing attention to the subject, and this we do with all the emphasis in our power-never doubting that a careful regard of the claims of the thermometer or thermoscope, and a knowledge of its use, may aid the mother in saving the life of the child over whose cradle she is called to watch and wait.

THE chronicler of scientific progress cannot fail to acknowledge his indebtedness to the British Association. In the addresses of the presiding officer and the several presidents of" sections" are to be found, in a condensed