Constitution, and again address itself to fulfil its glorious destiny. I believe that the country sprung from ours of all our just subjects of national pride the greatest — will resume its career of prosperity and power, and become the noblest as well as the mightiest that has existed among the nations of the earth."

Mrs. Kemble is now fifty-seven years of age, but neither the vigor of her body nor the brilliancy of her talents has undergone any perceptible diminution. Her readings have been, for nearly twenty years, among the most refined and instructive pleasures accessible to the public, and they still attract audiences of the highest character. I had the pleasure of hearing her read in the city of New York, in March, 1868. It was the coldest night of the year; the streets were heaped high with snow, and a cutting north-west wind was blowing. Notwithstanding these adverse circumstances, which thinned every place of amusement in the city, more than a thousand people assembled in Steinway Hall to listen once more to this last and best of the Kembles. The play was Coriolanus, one of the most effective for her purpose, in the whole range of the drama. When she presented herself upon the platform and took her usual seat behind a small low table, she looked the very picture of one of the noble Roman matrons whose grand and passionate words she was about to utter. As she sat, she appeared to be above the usual stature of women, although in fact she is not. Her person, although finely developed, has in no degree the appearance of corpulence. Her hair, naturally dark, has been so delicately touched by time, that the frost of years looks like a sprinkling of the powder which has lately been in fashion again. Her face is full and ruddy, indicating high health, and her features are upon that large and grand scale for which her family have been always remarkable, and which call to mind the fact that

the Romans once ruled in England. Her voice is exceedingly fine, being ample in quantity as well as harmonious and flexible. On this occasion, she was attired in a dress of plain black silk, relieved only by a narrow lace collar around the neck, which was fastened by a small plain gold pin. Nothing can exceed the force, beauty, and variety of her reading; she is perhaps the only person, who has yet practised this art, that can hold a large audience attentive and satisfied during the reading of a play.

Like all genuine artists, Mrs. Kemble marks an habitual respect for the public whom she serves. Her low courtesy to the audience, and her pleasant, respectful way of addressing them when she has occasion to do so, are in striking contrast with the ridiculous and insolent airs which some of the spoiled children of the opera sometimes give themselves. Her dress varies with the play she is to read. When the Midsummer Night's Dream is the play, she wears a bridal dress of white silk adorned with lace. Her self-possession in the presence of an audience is complete, and although she exerts herself to please them with far more than the energy of a novice, no one is aware of the fact, and she seems to enchant us without an effort.

EUGENIE, EMPRESS OF THE FRENCH.

BY JOHN S. C. ABBOTT.

THE city of Malaga, in Spain, was the birthplace of Eugénie, the Empress of the French. This quaint old Moorish town, containing about sixty thousand inhabitants, is situated on the shores of the Mediterranean, at the head of a bay which constitutes so fine a harbor that the city has been, for centuries, one of the most important seaports of the Spanish peninsula. Bleak, barren, rugged mountains encircle the city, approaching so near to the sea that there is scarcely room for the streets of massive, lofty stone houses, which are spread along the shore. These streets, as in all the old Moorish towns, are very narrow, many of them being not more than six or eight feet wide. The houses are large and high, and are built around a court-yard. The ruins of ancient fortifications and the battlements of a fine old Moorish castle add to the picturesque beautics of the crags, which rise sublimely in the rear of the town.

The climate is almost tropical, and the market abounds with all the fruits and vegetables which ripen beneath an equatorial sun. Though most of the city presents but a labyrinth of intricate and narrow streets, there is one square around which the buildings are truly magnificent. This square, or public walk, called the Alameda, is the favorite resort of all the fashion and gayety and pleasure-seeking of the city.