"There must be a ball here," said she; "why did nobody tell me?"

"Will you dance with me?" asked the chimney-sweep.

"You are a nice sort of fellow to dance!" she replied, and turned her back upon him.

Then she seated herself upon the drawer, and thought that one of the flowers would come and ask her; but not one of them came. Then she coughed, "Hem! hem! hem!" but for all that not one came. The chimney-sweep now danced all alone, and that was not at all so bad.

There was no night-lamp burning, but still it, a little. Then Sophy raised herself, and looked was quite light; the moon shone through the round quite astonished. window into the middle of the floor; it was almost like day. All the hyacinths and tulips stood in long rows in the room; there were none at all left at the window-there stood the empty flower-pots. On the floor all the flowers were dancing very gracefully round each other, making perfect turns, and holding each other by the long green leaves as they swung round. But at the piano sat a great yellow-lily, which little Ida had certainly seen in summer, for she remembered how the Student had said, "How like that one is to Miss Lina." Then he had been laughed at by all; but now it seemed really to little Ida as if the long yellow flower looked like the young lady; and it had just her manners in playing-sometimes bending its long yellow face to one side, sometimes to the other, and nodding in tune to the charming music! No one noticed little Ida. Then she saw a great blue crocus hop into the middle of the table where the toys stood, and go to the doll's bed and pull the curtains aside; there lay the sick flowers, but they got up directly, and nodded to the others, to say that they wanted to dance too. The old chimney-sweep doll, whose under-lip was broken off, stood up and bowed to the pretty flowers: these did not look at all ill now; they jumped down to the others, and were very merry.

Then it seemed as if something fell down from the table. Ida looked that way. It was the birch rod which was jumping down! it seemed almost as if it belonged to the flowers. At any rate, it was very neat; and a little wax doll, with just such a broad hat on its head as the Councillor wore, sat upon it. The birch rod hopped about among the flowers on its three legs, and | stamped quite loud, for it was dancing the mazourka; and the other flowers could not manage that dance, because they were too light, and unable to stamp like that.

The wax doll on the birch rod all at once became quite great and long, turned itself over the paper flowers, and said, "How can one put such things in a child's head? those are stupid fancies!" And then the wax doll was exactly like the Councillor with the broad hat, and looked just as yellow and cross as he. But the paper flowers hit him on his thin legs, and then he shrank up again, and became quite a little wax doll. That was very amusing to see; and little Ida could not restrain her laughter. The birch rod went on dancing, and the Councillor was obliged to dance too; it was no use, he might make himself great and long, or remain the little yellow wax doll with the big black hat. Then the other flowers put in a good word for him, especially those who had lain in the doll's bed, and then the birch rod gave over. At the same moment there was a loud knocking at the drawer, inside where Ida's doll Sophy lay with many other toys. The chimneysweep ran to the edge of the table, lay flat down on his stomach, and began to pull the drawer out

As none of the flowers seemed to notice Sophy, she let herself fall down from the drawer straight upon the floor, so that there was a great noise. The flowers now all came running up, to ask if she had not hurt herself; and they were all very polite to her, especially the flowers that had lain in her bed. But she had not hurt herself at all; and Ida's flowers all thanked her for the nice bed, and were kind to her, took her into the middle of the room, where the moon shone in, and danced with her; and all the other flowers formed a circle round her. Now Sophy was glad, and said they might keep her bed; she did not at all mind lying in the drawer.

But the flowers said, "We thank you heartily; but in any way, we cannot live long. To-morrow we shall be quite dead. But tell little Ida she is to bury us out in the garden, where the canary lies; then we shall wake up again in summer, and be far more beautiful."

66

'No, you must not die," said Sophy; and she kissed the flowers.

Then the room door opened, and a great number of splendid flowers came dancing in. Ida could not imagine whence they had come; these must certainly all be flowers from the king's castle yonder. First of all came two glorious roses, and they had little gold crowns on; they were a king and a queen. Then came the prettiest stocks and carnations; and they bowed in all directions. They had music with them. Great poppies and peonies blew upon pea-pods till they were quite red in the face. The blue hyacinths and the little white snow. drops rang just as if they had been bells. That was wonderful music! Then came many other flowers, and danced all together; the blue violets and the pink primroses, daisies, and the lilies-of-the-valley. And all the flowers kissed one another. It was beautiful to look at!

At last the flowers wished one another good night; then little Ida, too, crept to bed, where she dreamed of all she had seen.

When she rose next morning, she went quickly to the little table, to see if the pretty flowers were still there. She drew aside the curtains of the little bed; there were they all, but they were quite faded, far more than yesterday. Sophy was lying in the drawer where Ida had laid her; she looked very sleepy.

"Do you remember what you were to say to me?" asked little Ida.

But Sophy looked quite stupid, and did not, names were Gustave and Adolphe: their father Bay a single word.

"You are not good at all!" said Ida. "And yet they all danced with you !"

Then she took a little paper box, on which were painted beautiful birds, and opened it, and laid the dead flowers in it.

"That shall be your pretty coffin," said she; "and when my cousins come to visit me by-andby, they shall help me bury you outside in the garden, so that you may grow again in summer, and become more beautiful than ever." These cousins were two merry boys.

Their

had given them two new crossbows, and they had brought these with them to show to Ida. She told them about the poor flowers which had died, and then they got leave to bury them. The two boys went first, with their crossbows on their shoulders, and little Ida followed with the dead flowers in the pretty box. Out in the garden a little grave was dug. Ida first kissed the flowers, and then laid them in the earth in the box, and Adolphe and Gustave shot with their crossbows over the grave, for they had neither guns nor cannons.

THEATRES AND

PLACES

OF AMUSEMENT

DURING THE EASTER

Writing in the after-part of the Easter festival, we have only to deal with whatever has proved permanently attractive of the theatrical novelties of the season. But, in fact, the custom seems almost to have gone out, of providing new pieces at Easter. Managers appear to imitate the practices of the Italian Carnival rather than regard too attentively the old usages of the British Theatre. Appropriating the verse of Lord Byron, slightly altered:

"There are dresses splendid, but fantastical, Masks of all times and nations, Turks and Jews, And harlequins and clowns, with feats gymnastical, Vaulters and jugglers-Japanese, Hindoos!"

More attention has been paid during the past month to the Oriental Troupe of Contortionists at the New Holborn Amphitheatre, and the Japanese Tumblers at the Lyceum than to any thing else. The Oriental Troupe from Covent Garden has been for some time exhibiting at the Crystal Palace. They appear to be favourites with the public wherever they appear: indeed, their performances are marvellous in kind, and, as a whole, perfectly unique. What the Japanese exhibitors do in rivalry of the other Orientals lies more in the humour of the former than in their actual deeds. The Japanese tumbling is done with much easy dexterity; but on the other hand, the Indian troupe possess a more extensive programme, and perform graver and more sensational feats as contortionists. Ratub and Sumroo on the swingingrope, Moulabux, and Cabootee (the latter a female), in their sword-acts, are unapproachable in every way. What we observed as most singular and peculiar in the Oriental troupe was their countenances: while appearing to inflict on their bodies some of the Dervish's most terrible penances, the expression of their faces told of pain, the feeling of which was suppressed by the desire to show a patient endurance. Another peculiarity was the calm and stoical behaviour of the principal performers, contrasted with the

WEEK.

picturesque poses of the women, who stood by,
waiting their turn to go through their several
As the subordinates, men and women,
"acts."
stood in groups on the stage, they looked like a
party of Eastern nomads, gipsy-like in appear-
ance, but of a dignified deportment, which is
said to be peculiar to the Indian race.

Apropos of Crystal Palace novelties, we observe that the Saturday Concerts have included the new cantata composed by Mr. J. Barnett (son of the composer of the opera of the "Mountain Sylph"), based on Coleridge's celebrated poem of the "Ancient Mariner." The Misses Doria (Barnett), Mr. Perrin, and Mr. Renwick were its vocal executants, while the composer himself conducted the orchestra. The Misses Doria are at present but second-rate singers, if we judge these ladies by the standard of high-class vocalists; but they are young, and have abundance of time to improve. The music of the "Ancient Mariner" is characteristic of the poem; and some of the concerted pieces are full of originality. The chorusses are, here and there, telling-especially the final one expressive of a marriage-feast.

Our theatrical notices have assumed an eccentric form in treating of jugglery, as primary to the claims of the regular drama; but such efforts on the part of managers to sustain the drama as the production of mere re-chauffès of two of Dickens's novels ("Martin Chuzzlewit" at the Olympic, and "Oliver Twist" at the New Queen's Theatre) are hardly deserving special notice, and the pieces themselves must prove of too ephemeral a character to allow of it: indeed, one of these adaptations has already been withdrawn-namely, "Martin Chuzzlewit" at the Olympic.

If revivals of plays partly re-written for new audiences are the latest fashion in theatricals, we admit it more worthy of our regard in the re-productions of the Princess's stage than any other. The plays of Mr. Boucicault are certainly getting somewhat old; but they are placed on the stage, by Mr. Vining, with much

ingenuity, taste, and care. There is always some grand scene to amaze the spectators, and renew the interest of the piece. Such is remarkably the case with the revival of "Jennie Deans," which is this time placed upon the boards with a variety of alterations that are also improve ments. The realistic character of the play is illustrated with whole scenes that are actually built up like, and furnished like, inhabited houses, instead of being the ordinary set-scenes and flats of stage-scenery. We can always enjoy an evening at the Princess's.

The St. James's Theatre has revived Madame Celeste and a real Victoria melodrama for the amusement and amazement of its aristocratic audiences. The piece of the evening is entitled the "Woman in Red." It is a coarse melodrama, unredeemably vulgar, and smelling of the lamps of the minor boards abominably. It must have been adopted for performance at the fashionable West-end theatre merely to show the refined frequenters of the latter a vestige of the old transpontine drama. If, however, the gallery and pit of the theatre are plentifully occupied by the Jeameses and similar denizens of the Westend squares, then the "Woman in Red" may have been well-selected to meet their uninformed and superficial tastes. But all would have better liked the perennial Celeste ("beautiful for ever!") in the more respectable pieces of her repertoire, viz., "The French Spy," the "Wept of the Wish-ton-Wish, "Green Bushes," &c., &c. Latterly a young dramatist named Leslie has written capital dramas for Celeste, which have been highly successful at the Lyceum and the Surrey. These productions have been ably adapted to show off the talents of a seriopantomimic actress to the best advantage before modern audiences. As for the heroines of the domestic drama-pure and simple-Celeste was always too artificial in them to please our

selves.

The Olympic (we are aware of having made a bare reference to this theatre before) has produced a new burlesque or extravaganza, based on one of Offenbach's latest operettas. The title of the English version is "Hit or Miss" (a bad title for a burlesque-a good one for a farce). The production is a flimsy affair, and truly the "bouffonnerie musicale"-so styled in the Parisian play-bill. Intelligent playgoers will be more gratified with the veteran juvenile comedian, Charles Mathews, and the evercharming Mrs. Stirling, in the petite comedy of "The Woman of the World," and similar light pieces. The system which has come into vogue of lending actors is carried on at the Olympic, Adelphi, and St. James's Theatres with impunity by a manager who is the lessee of at least two of the houses named. Thus we have Miss Furtado and Mr. J. G. Taylor transferred from the Adelphi company to the Olympic to enact the principal parts in the new burlesque of "Hit or Miss" at the latter theatre. Again, we have recently seen Miss Herbert, the ostensible manageress of the St. James's, playing constanty at the Adelphi, and Mr. Clarke os

cillating between the latter and the Olympic. On this principle, visiting one theatre frequently, under the Webster régime, will be equivalent to makingacquaintance of three corpsdramatiques. The Strand Theatre has given its supporters a splendidly-mounted new burlesque, entitled " 'Darnley; or, the Field of the Cloth of Gold.”

The new Holborn Theatre has just re-opened under the management of Miss Josephs. An extravaganza (new to London, although not so to certain of the provinces) entitled "The White Fawn," has been produced with great The first performance prestige and success. was attended by no less distinguished personages than the Prince of Wales and the Duke of Cambridge, who occupied opposite boxes. Such immediate patronage ought to carry the elegant Holborn Theatre along bravely upon the aura popularis. "The White Fawn" is full of good songs and dances, after the Offenbachian style and manner.

At the New Standard Theatre Miss Glyn has been acting her great sensational part of "The Duchess of Malf," in the old Elizabethan dramatist Webster's gloomy play.

The New Surrey Theatre may be little known to some of our readers, being a transpontine establishment. It is a new theatre, recently built on the site of the old house, famous as having once been managed by Robert William Elliston. Here they have produced a long lugubrious, partly-nautical, partly-sensational drama, called " Poor Humanity," with a hero who is a clergyman of the muscular-Christianity school. The piece is dull and heavy as regards the dialogue; but there is a host of dramatis persona. Of the numerous characters the leading parts are sustained by Mr. Creswick, Mr. Shepherd, Miss Webster, Miss Pauncefort, and (last, not least) Miss Edith Stuart (from Drury-lane). The acting, scenery, and effects of "Poor Humanity" (it is an adaptation of a story in Cassell's Magazine) are all such as are calculated to amuse and delight Surrey-side audiences; but would be thought, perhaps, a little too farfetched, or running into extremes, by bettereducated playgoers.

A very well-managed minor theatre is the New East London, in Whitechapel Road, conducted by Mr. Abrahams, whilome the originator of the first music-hall (the Effingham Saloon), in this oriental region of the metropolitan suburbs. There is at all times good entertainment for pleasure-seekers at the "East London," which happily combines with the minor drama the music-hall elements of song and dance.

The Polytechnic Institution is ever intent on the introduction of novelty, and imparting variety to its programme. The latest change has been a new dramatic sketch of the extravaganza kind, admirably acted by a competent company, in the little theatre, under the direction of Mr. Buckland, who has invented the new illusionary burlesque. The fairy tale of the "Marquis Carabas" furnishes the subject.

E. H. M.

OUR PARIS CORRESPONDENT.

MY DEAR C

What with sermons, "concerts spirituels," private theatrical performances, now and then a quiet soirée dansante, and sundry other amusements, we have managed to get through Lent without too much ennui, though it is always with fresh satisfaction that we hail the arrival of Easter, not only on account of the new fashions in bonnets and dresses that it generally brings us, but also the unrestraint that it gives to the scrupulous in words as how to get through time in the most agreeable manner. Easter also announces the coming pleasures of summer, the reposing delights of the country, or the fatiguing amusements of watering-places. Father Felix has been very severe this season. He has threatened with fire and brimstone anyone of his congregation who would dare to go to the Théâtre Français to see Monsieur Legouvé's new drama, "Paul Forestier." Of course the defence has been a stimulationforbidden fruit is sweet, particularly they say to that species of mortals who frequent Father Felix's lectures. Those who have resisted the temptation have, most of them, compounded with their conscience by reading the drama at home. There is an amusing feature in the devotion of Lent here, that is worthy of observation. Every Roman Catholic who has the least spark of religion confesses and receives the sacrament for Easter; so that when Lent begins one sees a multitude of ladies and gentlemen who reside in the country flock to the capital to fulfil that religious duty, it being very disagreeable to let the priest of their village into the secrets of their hearts. A confessor in Paris does not know them, and after he has given them absolution, forgets les péches mignons that might lower village saints in the opinion of the parish.

Talking of priests, Monsieur Dupanloup, the fiery bishop of Orleans, still remains very indignant with the Minister of Public Instruction (Monsieur Duruy) for his establishment of schools for young girls. He writes pamphlet after pamphlet, until one is astounded at his wonderful fecundity, but he has not yet succeeded in turning his antagonist out of office, as he has sworn to do, and as even the minister's friends thought he would have done before the Easter holidays, when there was a discussion amongst the Ministers of State as to whether there should be a general election. Report said that the clergy had offered to use all their influence to get Government members returned in the coming election, if the Emperor would dismiss Monsieur Duruy, and name a clerical in his place. His Majesty, however, seems determined to retain his favourite, and has assured him that his enemies shall not triumph. Monsieur Dupanloup is furious. The Pope sent the title of Cardinal to Prince Murat the other day; he refused that honour to the

Archbishop of Paris, although Napoleon re-
quested it; but the Holy Father is said to have
answered that the Archbishop was quite red
Most people here think that
enough as it was.
the Emperor intends to have his cousin named
Pope when the present one dies, and that was
the reason of his second interference at Rome.
The Prince is very young for a Pope, but I dare
say that they will not be an impediment to his
elevation to the Papal throne. He is a fine man,
and will look well in the garb of Pope, if that
be any recommendation.

At a

The Prince Napoleon's journey to Germany has given great scope to our imaginations; no one will believe that it was a pleasure trip on the part of his Highness, and the report of coming hostilities has been continual ever since. The sanguine affirm a design of the reestablishment of the kingdom of Poland. dinner-party, given by the Prince, Count Walewski drank a toast to that effect. It may be the Count will have to drink toasts and eat dinners to the health of Poland for some time yet. Meanwhile the "Garde Mobile" is forming rapidly, amidst the great murmuring of the peasantry; although Monsieur Pinard, the Minister of the Interior, has given quite a different report to the Emperor on that subject. All these preparations and cries of war make trade very slack and the commercial Parisians very discontented.

A very odd pamphlet appeared the other day without the author's signature. It contained the titles and an exposure of the rights of the Napoleon dynasty. Each préfet received a quantity, with orders to distribute them to the principal people within his jurisdiction. This has made folks stare and wonder. Some think that the chief of that dynasty feels his throne tottering, or why try to prove his rights. The Prince Imperial's excursion amongst the sailors in such a cold season has also been another subject of comment, particularly as he is to receive his first communion in the beginning of May, and generally there are great preparations for that solemnity with young Roman Caa large tholics, their catechism forming The massvolume, to be learnt by heart. book that the Prince is to use that day has been fabricated on purpose for him, and is a work of art and chef-d'œuvre of patience and beauty in its kind; it is an illustrated manuscript, like those of the middle-ages, that "amateurs" His Imperial Highness so admire in museums. seemed to amuse himself amazingly at Cherbourg, where he was greatly extolled by the inhabitants for his gracious smiles and bows. Several gentlemen were presented to him on his arrival in that town, but it was remarked that no ladies had that honour. He was dressed in regimentals, as well as his little friend Conneau, who accompanied him. A little girl offered him a bouquet, and he very gallantly asked her

X

And now for a little anecdote to finish my letter: The Marquis of A. was an odd man. Another new opera, "Dante," by Monsieur When he gave away his money he liked to de Massa, is adding fresh laurels to those know for whom it was destined. One day, in that "Hamlet" had already given to Mdlle. church, the silver plate was held to him. Nilsson and M. Faure. It seems that we are to "Whom is it for?" asked he. "For the lose these two delights of Paris next month, poor, monsieur," replied the sacristan. The they having an engagement in your capital. marquis put down a louis. A few minutes Decidedly Shakspeare has the honours of the after, the church collector held his plate again day now in Paris. The wind blows in his to the nobleman. "What for now?"""For the direction just now-"Hamlet" at the Opera, necessaries of public worship." The marquis and "King Lear" at the Odéon. The latter gave two five-franc pieces. A third time the piece has been arranged for the French stage plate was presented him-" What for now?" by Jules de la Croix, one of the most enthu-"For the Virgin's chapel." The marquis made siastic admirers of your great_master_in a slight grimace, but gave a five-franc piece. France. He has already adapted several of He was on the point of leaving the church, when Shakspeare's dramas to the French stage, and al- the sacristan again held the plate to him. though some cry out against his "improvement" "Well, what now?" "For the dead! Monsieur of Shakspeare, yet it is a well-known fact that le Marquis." "For the dead! oh! well, they