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We should be sorry to say anything oll'en- sivc or unjust akout any class of people who are following,r an honourable and useful way of making their bread “’0 are, however, inclined to protest with a good deal of warmth against the whole system of popu- lar lectures as at present managed. The professionil lecturer gets up two or ihree “orat ons ’ ofinoie or less fla~lly description, and with these as his stock in trade for the winters,proe ed to enlighten and do] ght the inhabtants of half a continent. He is even in the most favourable circufietanee', half pro,»het, hall p‘ay actor, but in the great majorty of cases all play actor and no prophet or instruutor at all, It is necessary, of coarse, that the lecture should I): what is called bri liant, that is, in s o :liing y bad taste, with any amount of vulgar rant, and violent grstulatinn. Very se'dom has th» lecturer or his hirers any end in view, but simply to make money. He looks upoz it as a nice easy \v y f raising the wind. He bears no "bu-den.” He has no meswge to deliver. He ha; to have a 1a‘1ingif not a grotesque ttle. and often the funnier and the more abs rd he is, so much the in re zze~ ceptal)l°, Ha is not 11"Cessarily athiuker,or scholar, or door, not ev n a dreamer. He is simply a showman as Barnum is, and lii<e Barnum, he tries t » gi e someth ntor for the money he gets. To talk of people getniig anyinstruction from such lceturing is out of the question. The mischief i4, tlvatin many ease~;,the unfortunate hearers think that they are getting something 'rUOLl, when they are simply like the w ld asses, sniffing up the Last wind, and with the le \st possihle pros- pect Qf thereby getting int lleetugtlly fat. That in general, lecturers have an idea in at they are " ea led ’ tuthat “ sphere of usefu - ness ” is not to he thought of. Many have made thereby capital good livings, so that other have b on tempted to try their luek, and for 11) 0111 r mason. Talmage gets $5,0Q0 added to his Sal my, and forthwith he {Orswears 1110 Lyceum; S unebody else 'realizes a competency, a 1d his “ great moral force” is at at end s rompletely as if he had been a singer 1 1‘ a disciple of l‘erpsiehore. The who'e thing, in short, has been run to seed and has been so taken possesion of hy moan, incapuhle peril ate ies, that the soo-rer the weary people have a rest and are deliv- ed for it So lSUI} from the bumlen of those so- oalled popular and brilliant “ elforts " so much the I otterl We in Canada have lot been so utterly leuturel to (ll at]: as the long suffering people of the Stafo '. But we l ave also suffered Jr m th's cause consi lei-ably. By all means, let us have peace, and let the lecturers be silent. The quarter's invest- ment is often unyth'ng but a profitable one. One of the most distressing occurences it his ever been our duly to record happened at Kenqedyvill’e, in this county, on Thurs: flay morning Inst, it being the accidental shooting and death ef Gt oi-ge T. Nelson, a young man aged 25 years, 3.111 the terrible shock therefrom causing the death of his mother. Â¥oung Nelson carried on Jae-ell; Highleyls ‘farm, near Kennedyville, am lived with his father and' 'mother in the vil- lage. On the morning stated he was in the field with a. coloured man at work, when he saw a hawk, and remarked that he Wonhl go home and get his gun and shoot it ; the coloured man afterward saw him with the gun, but did not keep in View. Directly a report was heard, and looking in the direc- tion nothing was to be seen but the ii~ing smoke from the explosion ; still not appre- hei.ding the (vecnrrenee of anything serious, the colourcd man, ploughing, waited to reach the end of his furrow before going to see. Then it was that the terrible scene presented itselfâ€"the‘young man lying flat upon the ground (lead, his gun :by his side. It is supposed he was shot hy the ghn get- ting caught in some way while climbing over the fehee, acnidehtully '(liscliai-ging lt‘.‘ The whole Toad fiasse'l‘lthronsh'his left breast, striking the heart and causing instant (loath. The (lead body was conveyed to the parents’ residence, and then ensued‘ another ~startling tragedy, qlhe mother entered the room, looked for a moment upon the lifeless form of her son, and then turning, said she f:e1t ill, and would go into anotiiher mom and lie do“ g. [5110 did so, aiiduin tog min- utes was algo a porpse. The sudden shock alpne pould be assigned as: the capse of her death, as she had b‘egujn usual heauh. '{Jhe funeral services of mother and son were cpnducted by Rev. J. B. Jones, at the Ken- nedyville Methodist Protestant Church, Saturday morning. One of the hottest regions on the earth is along the hersizln Gulf, where little or no rail} falls. ‘ ‘At Bahi‘in the arid shore has no fresh “at,ch yet a'comparativcly numerous population eoutrive to live there, thanks to the copious springs which burst forth from the bottom of the scat The fresh water is ‘ot by diving The diver, sitting on his oat,/-‘v_viuds a' great goat-shin" bag around his left arm, the hand grasping its mouth"; then takes in his right bend a. heavy étone, to which is' attached a stfong line, and thus equipped he plunges in 3111 quiekry reaches the bottom. Instantly opening the bag over the strong job it fresh Witter, he springs up the as'oeudiiig current, at the same time‘ clos- ing the bag, and is helped aboard, The stone is then haulet‘i up, and the (iiYcr, aflpr tak‘: :â€" 'V’Vi 7'" ' V l" ‘ . l l' wig breath: plgnges gargam The fiourcp of f. 986 CQpious submarme sprylgs ls thoughfi to hp inthg grgen bills of Osman1 some live or six hundred miles distant, THE greatest strike of the dayâ€"12 o’clock. SUIT/gun: apartment, pr 11 castlp in the air â€"â€"‘A broWn sfudy. ' 5 I 1T has‘been decided that the only time you‘alc at liberty to hug another man’s wife is at bathing or dancing. A GREAT ctll‘i()sfty'~â€"Th(‘ woman why) can drivg a nail without hittifi‘g her fingers nilie times out of a possible ten. . ' H THERE: is no‘disgmce in being poorâ€"~the thin‘g iis to keep it; Quiet, and not let your neighbours know anything atout it. \ "f 133 than 1159 second b01123? im uircd 1L gentléman of a. coldpred porter", “‘da‘b am‘ (18 sécox‘ld'ring'ih’ ov'de'fust Bell. \Ve hub but bne bell “in dis estublishmum.” ‘ ‘ SALAD-DRESSING, according to a Spanish rgverb ; “ A spéu’dthrif!) 'to put in Hue dil, Emiser to put in the vinegar, a Wise m‘an 159' 'péppgr mid salt,"and madman to fibir.’3l' “ MAMMA, can I wear my silk dress in heaven '2" “ No, my child, dresses wil] not be Worn the/[0.” “ Well, ma, how will the 1 ., u L "I. ‘ .m Lord know I belongeu no we uni-m 33312.; . PROFESSOR to late students: “You, gentlemen, should come in a belly and not be struggling in in this way.” Thought.- ful student : “I did come in‘in the body, gin? ' ‘ 'A LADY being asked by a gentlempn to be his wife; wrote the wOrd “ Stri es,’2 and stated that the letters of the won could be transposed into the answer. He finally studied out “ Persist "â€"what every woman wishes her lover to do. VOL. XXI. NO. 22.â€"â€"-NEW SERIES [From the Chr‘stm‘town (Md.) News.J MISCELLANEOUS ITEMS. The Hottest Spot on Earth, A Mother Dies of Grief. Lecturers. v«->â€".. In December, 1849, I received at Corma- tin this note from De L-imartine : “Come with H )nssin and spend a fortnight at Mon- ecaux. ln ell you both to write poetry.” llipiolyie lloussin is a fellow who has as much talent as indolencc; he lives in the same village with me. We both have been during these last live anl twenty years as one during all summer and late autumn. He is indolent about everything except politics and friendship, lle bounded up at L'unar- tine‘s name. In an instant his trunk was packed. The note puzzled us. The author of Les Meditatirns and of Jocelyn needed us to “rite poetry. The enigma was stu. died during the whole way over the fifteen miles of road which separates Cormatin from Moneeaux. \Ve cert tinly were flat- tered; but had our correspondent been other than llamartine, we should have fear- ed a practical joke. \Ve found Chateau de Moneezulx in a blaze of light. Fragrant odours arose from the kitchen. Every fry- ing pz'n bore its part in the chorus. A ] {rte 'oox, hearing the brand of Uhevel, the \Vk‘ll-kllUWll llarls purveyor, stood in the vestibule. Evidently we were invited to a feast oltie fat of the land and a flow of generous winesâ€"but “1 need you both to u rite poetry,” Hal lunnartine summoned m to write xnadrigals to young ladies ? Was Mme. Lamartine going t) hold a cour d’ amour? We questioned the servants. They told us there was no company in the house. A large table was spread in the dining-room, such as was laid out when Lainaitinc had his sisters and nieces with him. Lamar-tine, as busy as busy could he, superintende-l the laying of the covers and discussed with his servants the wines best served. As soon as Irrmartine saw us, he exclaimed, "You know I am bankrupt ?” VYe knew it too well; but really the appearance of every- thing about us id not look as if we were in a bankrupt’s house. “Let me tell you what [have done. I have sold ‘ T-oussaint Louverturc’ to M'cliel Levy and Mires. They give me $6,000 for it." I interrupted him in a tone of consternation : “ You have sold E Toussaint l‘ ” had read magnificent fragments of this drama, and did not think $6,000 an adequate price for it. Laxnartine’s name, I thou'ght, could not fail to fill the theatre night after night. “Yes, I have sold it justtas the original was sold. They want to put the play in rehearsal at I’orte St. Martin Theatre thirty days from now; but the piece don't stand on its legs. It lacks several scenes and one act. \Ve ttge- ther must botch them up. Boussin, do you write poetry with facilily ‘2" I replied for my friend, whose modesty embarrassed him. I guaranteed that he had such facility that he would not work. Then L'imartine added : “ Very well, we will discuss all this by-and-by. I am expecting here to-night Frederick Lemaitre, Miles, and Michel Le- vy.” 'I was‘ perplexed. distinctly remein- bered the manuscript ; the play was in five acts, what then did'Lamartine mean by ‘i‘several'scenes and one act ‘3" I asked him: “You want to add a“ tableau to the i play?” Lamartine almost hlushedas he re- plied; "NO. The fifth act is a. little too iShaksperian. My guests travel by post. They ought to be here.” “ They probably have stopped at Macon to put on evening dress.” "Oh, I hope not. We shall wear our working'dre'ss. Let’s go to see if every- thing be ready in Frederick Lemaitre’s chamber. He is an eccentric genius," l’re- LAMARTINE AND LEMAITRE. How the Poet and Comedian Game Together in the Chateau of the Former. sen'tiy postilion’s hells were heard jinglizig in the avenue. The travellers made their appearance. There were four of them, for Frederick Lemaitre had brought with'liim his young son Charles, who was an actor of talent, and who was the literary partner of my friend, Alphonse Bret, in several dra- mas. Charles Lemaitre died young, two years since; he had brain fever, snrang from bed, opened a window! leaped out of it and 'was killed. I had never seen Frede- rick Lemaitre except on the stage. He was, without hyperbole, one of the most dazzling actors of this century, and had Talma never lived, our fathers say, he would have bee” peerless. he has created characters which remain in memory as me- dals in a museum. His acting of such parts as Le Toueur, Kean, Richard Darlington, and. Buridan, was incomparable. He rose to such a sublime height as Ruy Blas that he seemed to extemdporize Hugo’s immortal “verso. ‘ The next ay as Robert "Macaii'e he made incarnate in a character of audacious f‘aney all the recklessness, cynicism‘ and ma- jesty of contemporary stoehjohberst He made the hulks the bt‘ock lflxcliaiigels home, and; despite the ell‘orts of its honest fre- quenters, it will never efface this mud he threw (in it, Frederick Lemaitre's voice had seraphie not s. His gesture was most eloquent. He made more women‘s hearts thruh than Don Juan himself had ever touched. l ruuembered all these things as I saw him enter the drawing-room at Mon- ceaux. He wore a blue coat, and was scarcely able to-‘walk steadilyi? " ainartine intimidated him. Mires came nex . 1 must say that even by .ll‘rederick Lemaitrc’s side, Mires did not once raise associations of 110- bert Macaire. 110 was connected by busi- ness with Lamartinc for the publication of Le Oomeiller (3:1: Reugfle.’ lie knew he was necessary to li'imarti'ne, and nevertheless be felt ill at casein a house where no theatre- eheeks were sold. Despite his perspieaeity, he did not then forohec either his immense {Oi-tune or his great disaster, or that he; all Jew that he was, would be the l’epc’s right- hand man, or that his daughter would mar- ry a. lirincc, or that after having, apparent- ly, made so many dupes among his'sliare- holders, his Coulqg‘c, his good teiii er in face of prosecution heaped on him 'while they shunned still guilti'er parties), won him faithful friends even in the ranks 'of his fine: mics: He was more than honest in his r-e- lations with L-Lmarbine, He offered to un- dertake the management of all Lamaitine’s business; had his olfor been accepted he would have saved Lamartine from ruin. He ended by loving lrunariine passionately, and there was almost tenderness in the milâ€" cnlations he made V\ ith, and in the installn 'ments he paid to Lafnartine. " I dare say a great many men have gone throngh life with more samples, but with fewer efforts and devices to improve themSelves. ’Jrlhe fourth Visitor was likewise destined to possess a great; estate. He was the well-known Mi- ehel Levy, who, by paying for so many works atlthe price paid for gingerbread Tnmlv'h many praised heryclhnv]1ui1‘, Though Vilth [mots culled hcr fair, Yet in the heaven nf her (-ycs AL times there sho '0 Such stormy dyes, 'l‘huL never luvcr 10% her dour mt what this quostinn probed him son: Fell Ilcr She “c” taper fingers, taper \\‘ st, Wore fashioned to thu Eu'crug'c taste ; “('1' 11050 was hi_h, hrrjaws were strung, 1101' nu ls “ore sharp (perhaps {no long); And though not young, aconn 1y mmd Was sh when in hcrbcst :u'm) cd, “ How wuuld I f:ch if things \wnt wrnn Within Hr; roach uf Mali 5 sn lung? If she gut mad what cuuld I do ' .bl a number seven shoe? ' Hu hair was )0110\' ' rmds of gold day her shoulders, ft 1(1 un fu'd ; eyes were of a heavenly hue ; wore a number Sd'cll sin c. THE LU VER’S QUERY. self.” Lamartinc asked laughingly: “Do you suspect my claret?" Frederitk Le- maitre screwed up his courage, and said: “1 feel I am treading dangerous ground, and iii it frankness is the most admirable of all the virtues. I have, for the last twenty years, drank one particular claret. ” L't- nmrtine instantly rejoined : “ Tell me it. 1 w.ll instantly send for it.” Frederick Le- maitre replied in his most melodious voice : 'l‘o confess all to youâ€"I have seine bottles of it in my carriage.” He had brought his nine with him ! He had brought his wine with him to Lamartiue’s house, situated in 111,- very heart of Macon vineyards! \Ve did our best to keep sober oountenances. This was the reason why Frederick Lemaitre dii not want to sleep at _onceaiix. He was averse to coiifeSSing to ha it; of delicate drinking. e preferred bringing two hot- tlI-s daily out from Macon, and int-Ended to bribe a. servant‘to change the bottles quickly at dinner time. The bottles were intro-. duced. Frederick Lemaitre added : “ I have some seltzepwater, too l” 3111 he put a third bottle by the other two. We noticed that the seltzei'-water’s level did not sink, but th it the two bottles were emptied. All right ! Frederick Lemaitre‘s reputation did not belie him. This cause of melancholy averted, Frederick Lemaitre, although still a little stiff, became amiable. He felt ill at ease with Lamartine the statesman. Had Lamartine written only “ Les Meditations," Frederick Lemaitre would have called him “ old horse,” and “ old fellow,” at first sight. Nevertheless Lamartine made it a point of hospitality to talk of nothing but the stige. Frederick Lemaitre talked Very sensibly about his art, and told some stories with the delicacy of a sister of charity. l‘he ladies did not find him to be the Frederick Lemaitre they had imaginel. W70 guitted table. Lamartine whispered to me in‘ a. corv ner : " lâ€"{ad I known him 1 would have in- vited the’cler'gy.” The conspiracy of La- martine’s niece was discovered after cigars had been smoked. They had conspired to get from Frederick Lemaitre a scene from Robert Macaire. Mme. de P. said : “ I have put on in your honour my dress of the tzansiiguration. Don't refuse me." Lamar- tine had the good taste to take no part in these appeals. Frederick Lemaitre remain- ed inflexible in his refusal. He had not come to show the play actor. He had not undertaken the responsibility of bringing out Lamartine as a‘. dramatist. He had come to give advice. and to study his part. He could not play the mountebank. He had his dignity as a great artist respected. But he male compensation for his refusal. He again told stories, and involuntarily the great actor revealed himself in gestures and intonations. In this way we spent a de- llightful evening at the theatre, and Mme. de 1’. did not regret having put on her best dress. Lamartine gave us his manuscript, and had niaguauiinously said 3‘ “ Prune, cut down, add, revéfrite !” Boussin and I were crushed by this confidence, but there was no escaping it, and we did really a service to Lamartine, who knew how to do everything but correct his compositions. [Vitae]; the first, second, and third acts. Bo‘ussin took the fourth and fifth. The following morning Lainartine came to me ~ his face was the very picture of terror. He read me the fa- mous act which was considered suspicious, and when he reached the end, he asked; “What do you think of it ‘3" I replied i “It is impossible; it is entirely too audai eious."’ Lamartine had in this act gone as far as in any of the most daring passages of In Chute d’un Ange. W30 resolved to leave this formidable act aside. In a few morn- ings our labours were at an end. W0 tcrv minated here and there an incomplete hemi- stieh. We added petty, insignificint scenes, which, liOWevcr, gave clearness to the play. Boussin was guilty of 30, and I of 7301inesâ€"all of which were lost in the neap-tide of images and passions. The drama is from one to the other end nothing but a cry of liberty for the black race: 14a- inartiuo delared that‘his invention was ex- hausted, and after explaining his plan of the playl he asked his three guests to give him a plot for the unfortunate act. Michel Levy and Mires, with good taste, frankly confess- ed their incompctcney. Frederic Lemaitre acgqflcgl the task, "Ne worked on’ it for three days, then dor‘ltrcd he had found what he wanted, and was satisfied. The judges imt in Laniartine’s study. Mir‘cs and Michel Levy were pioscnt at part of the eougt.‘ They wercyudgcs‘ as bank directors ; they were anxious‘to know whether these charges did not open their lips. Frederick Lemaitre draped himself with an' overcoat and read us â€"mere bosh l The great actor isr'a poet onl‘y‘in front of the footliglits. cakes, forced novelists to publish their tales in newspapers. Seeing me very intimate with Lamartine, and knowing me to be an author, Michel Levy (flared me his services as publisher. Six months afterwards I propofcd to him to publish a novel, Henri de Bourbon. which had sensibly increased the sale of the newspaper in which it appeared. lIe scarcely recognized me, an 1 entirely for- got the imprudent words he had uttered. They were not so imprudent though, after all, tor the novel, under the title of Le Der- nier Roi, went through several editions. La- martine showed his guests into their cham- bl rs before dinner. We had the first inci- dent. Frederick Lemaitre declared that he should sleep in Macon and come out every morning. All objections upm the trouble and loss of time t) which this plan would load were made in vain. L'tmartine ceased to press them. Mires and Levy deigned to accept his hospitable bed as well as board. Inmartine was most playful and did everyâ€" thing he could to put his guests at their ease. Gaiety soon beeane general. One thing confounded us. Frederick Lemaitre drank nothing but water! VVh-Lt! And we had always been told that he was never absolutely sober ! Lmiartine passed around Lebanon wine and Cyprus wine, of which he was very proud. Frederick Lemaitre declined both, saying as he refused Cyprus : “I never drink it, except in Lucrcce Bor- gia.” He seemed annoyed by something. Mme. do lnmartiue, who knew his reputa- tion for love of drink, asked : “ Maybe you are accustomed to a particular tort of mzu'tiue exu‘aimed : “ \Vhy did you not say 3) at once? I have some claret from Mar- quis de Lagrange, the most glorious vault in Macon. Jean, go fetch 3 )me 1” Frederick Lemaitre became more, embarrassed than e\':r; he answered: “I pray you do not take trouble. You are too good. Scozler than cause you so much trouble, I shall stick torthe water, which is perfection it- winc '3” Frederick Lemaitre was very much touchel by her courteous attention, and re- phed : “ Yes, I am. _ 1 drink claret.” La- His plot '"would have been rejiicted a; tob ahodyne by Mrs. Barbauld heréelf: The silence‘of the graye followed Frederick Lei maltre’a preleution, Lamartine had a storm of ill-humour in his breast, but was silent and set boldly to work. In a week after- wards the manuscript was ready, and we all quitted Monceaux, very proud to have worked with Michel Levy. The most ob- scure but the most interesting of the group of advisers was ungucstiqnubly Charles ‘Le- maitre. lie gave ‘bvitlcllce of his future mm by some remarks'which showed him' to be an intelligent listener. we found Frcd~ erick Lemaitre to be an excellent, attentive men, but marred by an exaggeration of good manners, and who soon revealed himself again to bu the incomparable trugulian. The studies of the play dragged along at PL rte St. Martin Theatre till the following A CONSERVATIVE JOURNAL. BRADFORD, ONTARIO, CANADA, NOVEMBER 7, 1878. spring. Lamartine was absorbed by his du- ties at the National Assembly, and he en- tered to Paul de St. Victor and to me the duty of superinteudiug the rehearsals. So we saw life behind the curtain 011 which St. Victor was soon afterwards to throw such ar- dent light by his dramatic criticisms, which are a course of lectures on history, elo- quence and poetry. But he then was inex- perienced, and in the darkness and coldness of that immense theatre, under the uncer- tain rays which fell from the ceiling upon the three lamps which give ineffectual light upon the stage, we remrined in our seats, for we lacked the authority necessary to di- rect the massed company. Frederick Le- maitre supplied our places; he was an ad- mirable stage manager, and led the army of supernumeraries with masterly ability. Mlle. Clarisse Miroy guided the first steps of a maiden actress, just sixteen, Lia Felix, a sister of Rachel. \Vhen replies were bad- ly made, Frederick Lemaitre was aimiruble with his anger and tragical apostrophe ; but his good nature soon resumed his supremacy and he repented his harsh speeches. He re- cited his part in a low tone ; sometimes he would study a telling point, and would sud- denly thrill us as if we heard a lion trying his roar. Lamartine was only at the l.st rehearsals. During these rehearsals uur friend .Desplaces spent an evening with Na- dame de Lamartine ; her husband returfiid home lute ; as he entered the drawing-room he said : “ I have just come from Porto 5?». Martin Theatre. I have been fatigued to death by Toussaint Louverture. There is not the least interest in the five acts. It will be an immense failure.” He changed his opinion the eve of the first performance. Frederick Lemaitre was superb in his gre 1t soliloquy. The cries of the whole negro race w¢re echoed in his voice. The other actors were fair. Michel Levy wept. Lt- martine uent to the green room to thank the actors. Clarissa M roy went up to him, and said : “ Do not refuse me my pay; let me be able to say I have pressed agod‘s brow with my lips!” She kissed Lamar- tinc. The example once set, Lamartiuc granted a kiss to Lia. We asked an equal share, pretending we were Lunartine’s part~ ners. Some too had a kiss for these charm- ing faces. This performance was one of the first literary festivals Paris had enjoyed since 1848. The first performance took place in March, 1850. The liepublican party, which already felt itself vanquished by the reaction, flocked as if by preconeert- ed arrangement to l’orte St. Martin Thea- tre. Lamartinc still had enthusiastic ad- mirers, lovers of art and poetry am mg the people; all of these came too in serried le- gions. Some Homeric scenes were prodi- giously successful. The sublimer lives which stood like statues on the great stage, commanded pcal after peal of applause. Electric currents flowed from them which thrilled all the purer portions of the audi- enCe’s souls. Nevertheless the meshes of the drama were too nnskilfully constructed to hold, they did but let escape allthe beau- ties of the play. We were certain, from the very first acts of the piece, that all its success wbuld be political only. Lamait'ne Was too lyric for a theatre. His stropcSl needed some temple. lt waskuown thati Lamartine was present, concealed in a lat- I ticed box ; so after the curtains fell cries of ViveLimartiue I and of Vive la Republique ! rode incessantly for half an hour. Louie. N apoleau’s policemen collected in full force in the lobbies, and doubtless feared women-'3 tarin that a new Provisional Government was about to be proclaimed. Volley after volley of these cries (they were even then seditious), were uninterruptedly poured on the boulevard until 2 o’clock a.m. Lamar- tine meted too severe justice to himself in these llnes of his preface ; “ The drama has been applauded. The great tragedian has been applauded, he has increased his repu- tation. and he saved me from a failure which I deserved, and which I accepted before- hand. All is well.” Lamartine forgot to say that the drama was played thirty times to full houses, and these performances must fully have indemnified Michel Levy, The day after the first performance, I visited Frederick Lemaitre. I questioned him upon an incident which I had not understood: “ Why, in the fifth act, when you describe the tiger eating first the white man and then the negro, did you make so long a pause between the last two lines ‘3" Fred- erick Lemaitre blushed as he answered : “ I will tell you, for it is Well that actors should know it, that they may not, as I have done, fall into had habits. I drank a bottle of claret between the fourth and fifth acts, that I might all the better hold up a play which I saw was falling. I absolutely went fast asleep between those two lines. I even dreamed between them. I never in my life was so frightened as when I waked up and, recollectel I was in the presence of such a select, gifted audience as we had last night.” Only a man’s flirtation, only the brief foolish passion of a summer’s day checked long before it had time to ripen into a mar- riage more foolish and more imprudent; and forgotten with a hundred others in the sun- rise of a fresh fancy. And Keith Fenwiok had meant no harm. He had never wanted to love, or make love to, the child. She had bewitelied him for a moment by her beauty and willfulnes, and the liquid laugh in her‘ fearless eyes ; that was all} But the Witchery was over with the scenes which gave it rise; and the love, which she had kindled into liame when he held her in his arms and bade her look up and kiss him once again, faded with the fading of that lonely island’s mountain peaks beneath the horizon of the ocean. If he blamed himself for anything, it was for having written to. her at all. These things should finish with the last gQOdeyes, “ti-it if the little thing loved him, it‘would have seemed brutal not to auSWcr her letters at all ; and Keith Fen- wick hated brutality. Besides it couldn’t do much harm. He should never see her again; and a child llke that would Yind a fresh lover in every fl’ihl] face. Most likely she would be married to some colonial boor before the year was out; so it was all square; and, good heavens! what would have been his stately mother’s feelings had he broug it that little brown, untamed fawnl to England ~a colonial girl with the qualifications of a horseâ€"breaker and a dairy maidaand installed her in his father’s house as the future lady of the manor! No ; that was gsut of the uue‘stion. It was only a passing folly ! and who blames anybody for follies such as these? Not Lady Eenwiok thinking God on her‘knees in the old family pew at'home $0). the blessing of a son who had never given her one day’s anxiety. Keith had his little weakness like other men. A man would be a saint, and no man, who had them not; but at least he had al- ways shaken himself clear of them. He had never done anything imprudent or com- promising ; and now it was all right, and'he had his rewa d, and they‘with hind. All right? I‘Vt/Zelllmlyes; I suppose so, as the world goes. Only there is the echo of a dcv ' solute wail, faint and pitiful as the cry of a broken heart in the wind that sweeps over that farsoff shore behind the trembling ocean, and Brown Jenny stands shivering among the reeds, rubbing her nose gently against her little niistress’ cold white face, and whinnying restlessly from time to time, as if she thought there must be something wrong somewhere. ’ ' Hearig;§§§nea§ of flirtation. J. I). Os 301cm: The group of islands on which Mr. Chase ‘has passed his quarter of a century is the Marquesas, where, before his own eyes he I has seen cannibalism practised both as a line art, and as a fierce display of human fero- city. This horrible practice is indulged in principally to gratify a deadly spirit of re- ‘venge which one tribe of natives holds against another. In the many brutal and :blooily civil wars which they have waged i against one another the slain and cagtured Evictims are eaten with a vengeance. In itheir religious rites, als3, they offer up hu- ‘ man sacrifices captured in battle. \thn a ‘victim is selected for a. cannibal feast, his 1body is washed clean, and the hair of his head is burned ofl“. If the feast is not of a ireligi/aus character, the victim is simply ‘bcaten to death with war-clubs, and when 3 deai his body is again washed and placed in a. large oven dug in the earth. The hole ‘forming the oven has a fire beneath, and over this is a pile of round stones. On the top of the stones mats made of a strong ma- terial are placed, in which the body is wrapped up. These mats are then covered over with a great pile of leaves, and all is again covered with another layer of mats. The fire beneath absorbs enough air to keep it burning steadily, and soon a volume of steam is generated. This escapes slowly through the mats and leaves, and gradually the body becomes cooked through the simple but certain steaming process. The cooks ‘gre of superior skill in their profession, and iii tell to the instant when the body is sufJ fl “Mt-iv “dew,” to suit the tastes of the guests. When ready to take it out ot the oven all the material covering it is carefully removed, and when it comes to the last layers surrounding the victim, the mats are ‘ taken off with a sensitive touch, lest any of the skin of the body should be torn away. \Vhen all is laid bare, and the body is brown and beautifully cooked, a shout of demoniac laughter reuds the air, and the cooks are complimented in the highest terms by the ; host of cannibals thirsting to enjoy the ‘ dreadful luxury. (From the San Francisco Chronicle.) Among the passengers by the Greyhound, arrived at this port from Tahiti, was an American named Lewis Chase, who for more than a quarter of a century has never seen a civilized country, and has seldom looked upon the face of a'white man. San Fran- cisao is the first ghmpse of civilization he has had since he left his native home in Daubury, Conn., twentyâ€"seven years ago. For twenty-five years and six months pre- cisely he has lived on a group of islands in- habited by ferocious cannibals, and, fortu~ nater for himself, he came out hale and hearty, without ever having as much as a slice of his man-steak taken irom his anato- my. A Chronicle reporter, after a consi ler- able display of fascinating eloqucne‘, mixed with offered potations of spiritual delight, finally succeeded in securing an interview with Mr. Chase, who, when first approach- ed, presented a. decidedly hostile and warâ€" like front. Bnt, under the sounding process adopted by the interviewer, the latent bud of intellect rapidly blossomed and bore fruit, which is now placed before the mental palate of the reader. It is a savoury dish, and cmnot fail to send a thrill of exquisite sensation through every nerve of the body and brain. The brain and the eyes are considered the greatest delicacies, and are always given to the chiefs. The breasts, thighs, and the outer portions of the calves of the legs are the next greatest luxuries, and in this cate- gory also may be placed slices cut oil" from other portions of the body. All the parts mentioned belong to the chiefs and chiefesses of high and low rank, according to their relative social status, while the rest of the body and the entrails are savagely devoured by the common natives. ’J‘he flesh is eaten from the hand, and to give it greater relish is dipped in native sauces. Cocoanuts, yams, and various kinds of nuts are also among the edibles, besides certain varieties of fish ; bnt the piece de resistance is the hu- man portion of the spread, While the feast lasts, the greatest hilarity prevails, and af- ter it is over a fearful drunken orgy follows, whenever the liquors, native or Imported, can be procured. Scenes of the wildest li- eentiousness accompany the revel, and for days after the cannibals are in a state of seini-unconsciousness. They quietly retire to their huts and allow sleep and nature to restore their shattered constitutions. Sleep ‘is their great restorative, and after a fearful ,debauch they will lie as if (lead for a space of from ten to fifteen hours. EATING A BEAUTIFUL YOUNG GIRL- Mr. Chase was witness to a fearful and revolting act of cannibalism practised at the little harbour of Atawana two years ago. A young and beautiful girl had been captured and brought in a canoe to Atawana. She belonged to a tribe which was fiercely hated by her captors, and they determined to avenge themselves upon her. She was taken out into the centre of the village, stripped naked and bound, Then with war-clubs The Qualifications cf the VictimiMeth- 0:13 of Cookeryâ€"J1me Native Pen- chant for Young Women, Good Templars, Missionaries, and Babies. she was beaten, ziiid fell as if dead to the ground. But while life yet lingered a wo- man of Atawana rushed up to the prostrate body, and, with a ferocious yell, dug her fingers into the eyes of her victim, plucked them out of their sockets and ate them in the presence of the infuriated and applaud- in multitude. Afterwards, while the body of he victim was yet warm, she was disem- bowelled and her entrails taken out and de- voured, the cannibals fighting with each other for their shared? Her whole body was then out to pieces and divided up among the caimlihals present. While indulging in this almost incredible brutality, shouts of joyous vengeance were heard on every side, ' The cannibals revelled iii devouring nearly every atom of the body. They washed down the flesh eaten with intive, intoxicating drinks, and after the carnage was concluded, a. triumphant war-dance of vengeance fol- lowed, How the Cannibal Epicures of Mar- quesas Conduct their Banquets. Great pomp and solemnity surround vic- tims intended for religious sacrifices, and none but high priests can ofliciate in the most solemn ceremonies. The priests have numerous attendantsI mostly young boys who are being eiucatcd for pliestly honours. The victim selected is uiually a man of n .te among his tribe, and while he isin the hands of his torturers previous to the act 0: sacri- lice, receives some consideration. \Vhen the hour arrives, he is placed upon a large stone, to which his body is bound firmly. The priests then chant low wails, which in- crease in volume until it seems as if they were shrieking. Charms, spells, and in: mutations are then brought into play, the priests occasionally placing their hands upon the intended sacrifice, who never utters a. word from the time he is selected as a sacri- flee to the moment of his death. The in- SOUTH SEA DELICACIES. SAURIFICIN G RELIGIOUS VICTIMS UANNIBALISM AS A FINE ART. CANNIBAL DE LIL‘ACIES. The cannibals have epicurean tastes and a line sense of the various shades of dclic icy of different classes of victims. The flesh 'most highly prized is that of the African, and a coloured man who in his life neither drank liquors nor smoked, if he falls into the hands of the Marquesas cannibals, is certain to have the highest respect shown him He will be fel luxuriously and at- tended to carefully up to the time that he is to be sacrificed. The ho lies of missionaries take second rank, because in life they are supposed to have used neither liquors nor tobacco. Sailors are not esteemed a luxury because their flesh is thoroughly saturated with smoke, whiskey, and salt water. The cannibals have the most dainty sense of smell in this respect, and will tell in a min- ute whether their victim has ever been in the habit of using liquors or stimulants of any kind. Young children and women, es- pecially unmarried women, are great luxu- ries. Persons. advanced in years are seldom eaten, as their bodies are too full of well- developed and tough sinews. Mr. Chase has never seen a white person offered up as a sa- crifice to cannibal appetite, but there are well-authenticated cases of such being the case. A missionary and two coloured men are known to have been eaten on Dominique Island, one of the most savage of the group. ‘ In recent times the cannibals rarely sacrifice ‘ a white victim, but they are entirely willing to do so if the opportunity offers. It is not ‘ safe to trust them with a tender Anglo- Saxon lamb, or anything in the shape of hu- manity that would be certain to take first prize at a baby show. These not being pro- curable, no objection would be offered to making a good, square meal out of a nice, fat, healthy missionary. Sailors are the only class of white men for whom the canni- bals cannot get up an appetite at amomcnt’s warning. CAN N1 BALISM EXTENSIVE LY 1‘ RACTIHED. There are thirteen islands in the Marque- sas group, seven of which are inhabited and on six of these cannibalism is practised. Mr. Chase is a resident of Unua, known to mari- ners as Washington Island, and to his knowledge there has not been a case of can- nibalism there in the twenty-five years he has made it his home. The natives of Unua say they never practised cannibalism, though a. few of the oldest inhabitants say they remember their parents telling them that. such was the case in old times. The ‘cannibals seem to indulge in their horrid practices Irom a pure love OI revenge. They are certainly not driven to it for want of food, as there is an abundance on: these islands. No doubt immemorial custom has much to do with keeping the beastly indul- gence in vogue. Children are apt to follow in the footsteps of their fathers, and genera- tion gives to generation laws and customs. The religious sacrifices of human bodies, and the habit of offering them up as food, are now more common than any other kind of cannibalism. The priests know that if they relinquished such rites they would be shorn of so much authmity, and hence they cling tenaciously to their sacrificial rites. The priestly class continue to hold the power of life and death over the natives, while many of the chiefs have but nominal influence over them. Nearly all the power- ful chiefs have died without leaving heirs to inherit their unbounded sway. The re- maining chiefs, in union with the priests, manage, however, to wield despotic power, and are the principal defenders of cannibal- ism. History of aMan Who Rose From the Ranks. Though Sir Garnet VVoIseley, the present Governor onyprus, started in life without any family interest, 11c finds himself at 45 one of the foremost military officers in Great Britain. His present rank is that of Lien- tenant~General, and he is a K. C. B. and a G.C.M.G. He has never shown himself a great commander, because he has never had a chance, but he has made a reputation as a good soldier and successful administrator. He is the son of a soldier, and began to prepare for the military profession as soon as he emerged from childhood, entering the Eightieth Re 4imeut in March, 1852, when he was not yet 19 years old. He distinguish- ed himself for personal bravery during the Crimean war. lie always turned his face toward the enemy when he saw an approach- ing shell, anl, when asked why he did so, gave as his reason, that “in the event of his being killed, it could not be said of him that he turned his back on the enemy or fell while running away from ashell.” In 1857 he came very near winning the Victoria Cross in the Indian mutiny. He took part in the capture (If linelmow in March, 1858, and before the war was over was made sue- cessively Brevct Major and Brevet Lieuten- ant-Colonel for his services. In 1852 he held a staff appointment in Canada, where he remained until 1870. During his stay he visited the Confederate army and made the acquaintance of Gen. Robert Lee and Gen. Jackson. He said that in “ milit n‘y genius Lee had no superior since the great Napo- leon,” and places him above even the Ger- man gencrals of [870. Of Jackson he said : stant selected for performing the operation being reached, the chief high priest advances toward the victim, and feeling for the beat- ing of the heart, announces to his attendants that he is ready to commence, He then takes a. knife and deliberately cuts out the heart, the victim writhing in agony during the process. To speak or utter a word dur- ing this frightful process would be coward- ice, an evidence that the sacrifice had ac- knowledged the power of his enemies. The heart out out, it is handed to a young priest who bears it off to the highest chief, the priest considering this the greatest honour of his life. The victim quickly expires, and then the whole body is cut up and di- vided amongst those waiting to receive their portions of it. The flesh of a. religious vic- tim is more highly prized than that of any other, all the portions considered most choice being reserved for the high priests and high chiefs. “ Jackson is loved and adored with all that childlike and trustful affection which the ancients are said to have lavished upon the particular deity presiding over their afl'airs.” For his service in the Red litVC!‘ expedi- tion he was made a K.C.M.G. In 1873 he was selected for the command of the Ashan- tee Exhibition, and at the early age of 41 was not only made a K.C.B., but given the rank of Major-Gmera‘, and presented with a more solid reward of £25,000. In Febru- ary, 1875, he was sent out to Natal to quell disturbances there, and on his return was offered and accepted a seat in the Council of India. Last July he was sent to Cyprus as High Umnmissioner an-l Commander-in- Cuief, and in any military movements into which England may enter in the fu- ture he may be looked to as the coming man. “.Ha !‘ run ddwn £0 blo“; off the cobwebs, ch ?”â€".Lav» cr 1 “Just soâ€"‘ust so : our , y , J lung vacatlun, you see l" “BABX Rubik’s” sire has arrived at home, and had to get up after the first night: He is going back across the sea. THE Pursuit of Longevityâ€"Client (who mcgats his lawyer quite “ promiscuous like”); THE VICTIMS MOST HIGHLY I’RIZED‘ Sir Garnet Wolseley. a yéar for pim§_§}f.anq wife, whigl_1_l_1‘é {adept ed. While at“). lathe prime of lifef-bo [iv came a martyr “to gout, which ultimately broke up his constitution. When his health began to fail Garrick generously added £200 to his salary, left him a free choice of arts, and allowed him at all times to consu t his ease. At little more than 50 the once Apol- loâ€"like Sprangers had become old and infirm. Frederick Reynolds, who as a boy saw him in his latter days, when he had lost his fine appearance, gives a very unflattering de- scription of him, and a vivid little picture of the stage of the period. “ The noble, the victorious warrior, was personated by this great actor in a full suit of gold-laced scarlet, asmall cocked hat, knee breaches, and silk stockings, conspicuously displaying a pair of gouty legs. As to his wife, tth in her zenith of youth and beauty, clad in the fas- cinating costume of Italy, she looked as cap- tivating as he grotesque.” Murphy wrote “ The Grecian Daughter ” to suit his failing physical powers. The play was poor stufl', hut Barry made a grand performance of Evander. Yetwhcn in one of the scenes he said, “ I am old,” some brutes in the gallery jcered. He died in 1776 at the early age of 55. He lies among so many other of his great confrcrcs in the Cloisters at Westmin- ster. Garrick’s most famous rival was Spranger Barry. The merits of the two actors, how- ever, were so distinct that in reality there were no grounds of comparison. \Vith a splendid physique, a handsome face, and a voice so melodious that he was called “silver-tongued.” Barry was the most ir- resistible of stage lovers, and in tenderness and majesty was as incomparable as Gar- rick was in the terrible and the conflict- ing passions of humanity. The one was as great in the heroes or comedy as the other 1 was in such characters 2.3 {Jul Drugger and 1 Sir John Brute. Davies says Gibber prefer- lred Barry’s Othello even to Bettcrton’s and Booth’s, and was seen loudly applauding it in the boxesâ€"a most unusual thing for the old cynic to do. So terrible was Barry in the jealous scene, that when he uttered the line “I’ll tear her all to pieces," the la- dies used to shriek with terror, and Ber- nard tells us in his Recollections he could not sleep all night after witnessing it ; While his “No, not much moved !" was equally fine in its heartrcnding pathos. In the apology to the Senate he was so tender, so insinuating, that when the the Duke said, “ I think this tale would win my daughter, too,” there wa; a round of applause as though the whole house echoed the senti- ment. In “The Earl of Essex,”where, being taken prisoner, he pointed to his Countess lying fainting upon the ground and exclaimed, “ Oh, look there I” the critics in the pit burst into tears, and then shook the flieatre with unbounded applause and huzzahs. He felt his parts so exquisite- ly that. his powers of expression were fre- quently weakened in consequence, while Garrick, when producing his most terrible effects in “Lear,” could in a pause thrust his tongue into his cheek and utter a jest. Such sensibility in actors, however, though it may heighten the effect at times, rather embarrasses than assists them upon the whole, since it weakens the power of the judgment and that perfect mastery over the workings of the passions, the first essentials of great acting. The most indifferent ac- tresses will at times shed real tears and fail to move an audience, while others, dry-eyed and unaffected, will by the mere perfection of art melt the very souls of the spectators. Of his famous contests with Garrick in Ro< Mao and Lear I have already glven some ac- count in David Garfielc. Wcll connected, and a gentleman in private liie, he was re- ceived in the best society, and visited by the greatest people. He was called the )[ark Antony of the stage, from his gay 3; ,d splen- did style of living. He gave entertainments to his friends that would not have shamed a ducal host. He was on the most intimate terms with the Prime Minister, Pelham, who one night invited himself to sup with him. The actor had the bad taste to provide a banquet. Pelham severely reproved him, saying that he could not have done more to entertain a foreign Ambassador. His fascination and powers of persuasion were as great off the stage as onâ€"no one could resist them. Rich gave a very striking and significant picture of his character when he said he could whcedle a bird off a tree and squeeze it to death in his hand. In 1758 he and \Voodward built a new theatre in Dublin; the speculation turned out ruinoust bad. When he returned to England, he went to Foote, at the Haymah ket; but inl776_Gar_rick offeredhim £1,500 To attempt tr give anything like an accu- rate definition of “ touchiness ” would be to attempt something very like an impossibility But we don’t need to wait for definitions of a good many things before knowing What they are, and a gool deal else about them. Though it might not be possible to give any one who had never met with it a very ade- quate idea of what “ touchiness ” is, you immediately know it whenever it comes your way, and could point it out to him, and he would know then too, and only then. Now isn’t touchiness a very disagreeable thing, and not a very uncommon thing either? Don’t we often hear it said of such a one, “ Oh, she’s so awfully touchy, I can't hear to go near her. At the Very least thing she fires right up, or gets sulky and grieved looking, which is even worse.” Or again, “ My dear fellow, don’t be so touchy, no offense was meant.” These “ touchy ” peo- ple, when very much disposed that way, are almost incorrigible. It seems almoat as if they were constantly on the watch for opportunities of taking offence. “Such an one didn’t notice me on the street,” when perhaps the poor unfortunate didn’t see them at all, being too much taken up with his own thoughts. “ Touchy ” people seem to think that though there may be twenty, thirty, or a hundred people passing at the same time, there is not the slightest possibility of their being quite innocently passed over. They appear to imagine that everyone of their ae- quaintanees should go about their daily busiâ€" ness with an ever present thought that there is just apossibility that A may be somewhat near, and that they ought to keep a look out for him. We all know what kind of an ctfeet “ touchy ” folk have on others. The effects differ with the constitution. On some sensitive natures we can well believe it is positively painful. We do not undertake to say whether men or women are worst in this respect. One thing perhaps we may say, thatit looks even worse in a man than in a woman, for better things are expected from men. B it if any of our readers, men or women, have considerable suspicion that they are troubled this way, we would advise them to try and get rid of it as quickly as they can. They will find it more agreeable for themselves, and it will be infinitely more pleasant for all about them. The great re- cipe for its cure is, “ Don’t think all the time about yourself, or about what others think and say of you.” Don’t require too much attention, and you will very likely get more than you would otherwise do. Even when you don’t get all that is due, never show your feelings. It won’t do any good, and may do harm. Of all disagree- ahle companions, most of our readers, and the ladies especially, will agree with us, a touchy one is about the very worst. WHOLE NO. 1062. A Rival of Garrick. “ Touchiness.”