do not require much ;" and he gave the sa- Cadet remarked the servants very much occucristan a sou. The same nobleman left a large pied in bringing in screens, and arranging the "You will perform us fortune to a lady-cousin, who had one day lec-room as if for a stage. tured him severely on his acquaintance with a something," said the master of the house to "Excuse me," answered Baptiste certain frail fair one, under the condition that the actor. the lady-cousin would pay fifteen thousand Cadet, "I never play off the stage, but I am francs a year to the frail one as long as she an honest man, and will therefore pay for my So putting a louis on the chimneylived, a galling charge for the cousin, but one dinner.' which her virtue, however ferocious, was not piece, he took up his hat and left the house. likely to refuse. The rage for private theatri- | It is like the lady who invited a celebrated dracals received a damper a short time since; the matist to an evening party, and as he was very actors and actresses belonging to the "Théâtre quiet, the lady expressed her surprise. "Tell us 66 we have not the honour Français" were forbidden to lend their talent something," said she; to these representations, much to the annoyance of having a great author with us every night." of rich individuals, who frequently invited Madame," answered the gentleman, "I will known artists to dinner, and asked them after send you tickets for a box at the theatre where the feast to amuse the company, proud of its my last piece is to be performed to-morrow. I being said that such a one had entertained their have put in that all the wit I had on me just Adieu. guests. But all actors were not always pleased now." at thus paying for their dinner. Baptiste Cadet Yours truly, was one day invited with Mdlle. Mars to a grand banquet given by a rich banker. company had retired to the drawing-room, When the 66 S. A. OUR LIBRARY TABLE. POEMS FROM NEW ZEALAND. By Frederick Napier Broome. (London: Houlston and Wright, Paternoster Row.)—Rich in poetic sentiment, in eloquent language, in the knowledge and love of classic lore, overflowing with admiration for Nature, for heroic action, for high art, Mr. Broome possesses, not only the qualifications of a poet, but the rarely-given and divine gift of using them with facility, and at times with power. Like Byron, and Keats, and Shelley he loves the Spenserian stanza, and finds his own verse run felicitously in the same groove. We have proof of this in "Egeria"a poem of considerable length, in which many fine thoughts and passages occur. following: TO ITALY. Thou empire of all ages, Italy! Take the When wert thou less than glorious, though in stone same. That spell outworn, the young-eyed nations then They entered, but the year of time, yet young, It is thus the writer recalls the death of the I recognized, in that exulting band Their young existence and untimely death, Gone forth to meet them, and the land that needs *The Brothers Bandiera, executed with seven others, 1844, for attempting insurrection in Southern Italy. "That Italy may have life, we must show even Dr. Jenkins, the hero proper, is only a shadow-picture with one side; while his rival Dr. Brewster and Willie Sawyer become, as we have said, mere caricatures. Both are libels upon the professions to which they belong. There seems to have been a desire to trench upon the sensational in the mind of the author, The one encircling wall which might not be o'er- but the doctor's use of the lancet is simply thrown. Children shall hear the sad fraternal story And manhood with its lesson be made wise. I know not if, through time, there hath descended A tale where all that's brave, that's pure, so justly blended. Of It is true our author has read Keats and Shelley till he has become so impenetrated with their modes of thought and expression as, at times, unconsciously to recall them. This is especially perceptible in the fine poem we have referred to, "Egeria," the fairness of which is freckled (so to speak) with phrases familiar to the readers of the latter poet. But Mr. Broome is as wealthy in ideas as words, and the faint blemish (which is still a beauty) is unseen in later poems. the minor poems, that "To the Earth," full of exquisite thought and tenderness, and steeped through and through with a sensuous perception of its loveliness, and of the mystic tie "drawing all things to it," is very charming. But the gem of the volume, in our estimation, is the poem entitled "Ceres to Arethusa," in which the poet has entangled in a web of fluent verse a treasury of fair images and picturesque ideas. Some of the poems in this volume have appeared in our own pages, but the majority of its contents are new, and herald (we are fain to believe) the advent of a new poet of no ordinary power. THE RIVAL DOCTORS. By Frank Trollope. Two Vols. (T. Cautley Newby, Welbeck-street, Cavendish Square.)-The author of this novel labours under a disadvantage in bearing a name so eminent in the literary world, and which subjects his productions to comparisons, the result of which we all know as well as Mrs. Malaprop. On the other hand, this circumstance is favourable to emulation on the writer's part; for authors do not generally reach their meridian excellence at once, but achieve it, as Demosthenes did the art of oratory, with painstaking and persistent endeavours. Mr. Frank Trollope has the faculty of telling a story, and outlining character; but there is no plot in the one, and the latter become, from the coarseness of his handling, mere caricatures. There are no shadows in his pictures-no by-play on the part of the dramatis persona. Mabel has charming points, and in the hands of an artist would have been a delightful creation. She is very lovable and pleasant as it is; but horrible, and the description of the bloodstained corpse of old Mr. Silverton disgustingly so. Mr. Frank Trollope must put his talents to better use than in his present essay, before he wins the praise it would be our pleasure to bestow had he deserved it. Let him retouch and finish his characters before setting them up in type-even comedy need not be coarse! and since we confess that, having begun the "Rival Doctors," we found it absolutely necessary to follow the story to its close, we think it quite worth the author's while to educate, by every means in his power, the gift of telling one amusingly, which he undoubtedly possesses. ENGLISHWOMAN'S REVIEW. (London: 23, Great Marlborough-street, Regent-street; Kent and Co., Paternoster Row.)--It is some months since we found this useful, and in the best sense of the word interesting periodical, upon our table, and we are glad to see that it preserves all its claims to be thus considered. The April number opens with a cleverly-written paper, entitled "Women in the Middle Ages"-a resumé of and retort to an article thus-called, which appeared in " Blackwood's Magazine" for November, 1867. In a facile and amusing manner the writer in the "Englishwoman's Review" has managed to turn the arguments of the original author of "Women in the Middle Ages" against the deductions he drew from them, namely that Strong in her weakness, overruling by the abnegation of all right and will, women reigned despotic; her sway rested on no charter; but the swords of paladins leapt from their scabbards to sustain it; her wrong, borne in voiceless meekness, pointed the lance of chivalry, and made every true man her sworn avenger. And again: said above, undoubtedly their weakness, and the abThe real source of their strength was, as has been self-assertion or competition would, in those blustering sence of all pretension on their part. Anything like ages, when their influence began to bud, have been fatal to the tender plant. Woman became the arbitress of men's deeds because she refrained from meddling in the affairs of men; she ruled because she did not rival. Unfortunately, the quotations from St. Palaye, and the author of the "Broad-stone of Honour," which the writer has used in support of his assertions, show that not only were ladies, in those days, extremely ready to assert their rights, but also "had no hesitation in rivalling men by en gaging in what would now be considered by many to be unfeminine pursuits." I quite believe our romancers [says St. Palaye] when they affirm that dames and demoiselles knew how to extend, even to wounded men, that assistance, habitual and assiduous, which a skilful and compassionate hand is able to afford. It appears, then," says the writer in the "Englishwoman's Review," "that these ladies did not refrain from entering into competition with men by becoming surgeons. We ourselves do not see that competition had anything to do with the matter; for, out of the monasteries, women were almost the only practitioners of the healing art-a knowledge of simples, or the medical uses of plants and chirurgery, being a customary part of an English gentlewoman's education, in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. The writer in " Blackwood" quotes from the "Broadstone of Honour" a passage which tells us that if a lady had been slandered by a knight, so far was she from "bearing her wrong in voiceless meekness," that at the next tournament, when the shields of all the candidates who desired to join in the combat were hung up, it was the custom for her " to touch his shield, in token of demanding vengeance." It was not a duel which ensued; but the knight guilty of this defamation was beaten soundly by his peers. Tant et longuement qu'l crie mercy aux James à haute voix tellement que chascun l'oye en promessant que jamais ne luy adviendra d'en mesdire u villainement parlez. lead some great knight or squire before the women, and to say: "Thrice noble and redoubted knight, or thrice noble and gentle squire, as it is always the custom of women to have a compassionate heart, those who are assembled in this company in order to behold the tournament which is to be held to-morrow make known their pleasure, that the combat before their eyes must not be too violent, or so ordered that they cannot bear assistance in need; therefore they command the most renowned knight or squire of the assembly, whoever he may be, to bear right to-morrow, on the end of a lance this present couvre-chief, in order that when anyone should be too grievously pressed, he may lower this cœuvre-chief over the crest of those who attack him, who must immediately cease to strike, and not dare to touch their adversary any more; for, from this hour, during the rest of that day, the women take him under their protection and safeguard." "This," says the writer in the "Review," "was a humane proclamation, and the ladies deserve credit for it; but it shows that they did not scruple 'to meddle in the affairs of men ;' and theirs is strange language to be used by persons who have made abnegation of all right of will.' They make known their pleasure,' and command,' and 'warn the knights not to dare' to strike one who is under their safeguard. this,' cries the keen-witted fencer, is the language of self-abnegation, we wonder what the language of self-assertion can be?"" An essay "On the Education of Young Servant-girls" is worth attentively reading, containing, as it does, much good sense and practical suggestion. The "Woman's Question" also (from the German of Lydia Becker) is a valuable contribution, and the whole number sustains its wonted t tournaments, the king-at-arms was wont to ability and reputation. If HOW I CAME TO GO ON THE STAGE. and Mr. John Dunks seemed to be a sort of human battledore, who kept knocking about his artistic clients as so many shuttlecocks, between one and the other of his usurious clients. Now Mr. Warde was, to say it profanely, a much used and much-abused shuttlecock in J. D.'s hands; however, with that I have not immediately to do. The tragedian's frequent visits to chambers led to a familiar acquaintanceship between us and I could say as much or more to him than my principal. Of course I needed not to ask for orders to Covent Garden theatre, they were proffered me unasked; and I often went during the run of the The following reminiscence was confided to me by the same young actor (P.), who so amusingly told the anecdotes of the copyist's room, Theatre Royal, Drury Lane, related in the March number. If I had not (said young P.), personally, and off the stage, known the tragedian Warde, of Covent Garden, it is probable I should never have taken to the stage as a profession. It occurred in this wise: I was articled, at 18 years of age, to a very smart solicitor, Mr. John Dunks (we will call him), whose offices were in Lincoln's Inn Fields. Mr. John Dunks had no more practice than required one clerk, and I did for the purpose; for I was not a fast, but a steady, young, hard-great military spectacle of Napoleon Buonaworking articled clerk. Mr. Dunk's practice was a good deal among authors, artists, and actors; and Mr. J. P. Warde was one of his clientelle; but I should note that a moiety of the practice was amongst Jew money-lenders, parte," and also saw Warde in every one of his repertoire of parts as a tragedian. Such frequent visits to the theatre-moreover an intimacy with the penetralia "behind the curtain"-filled me with aspirations which I indulged in their most illusive forms. But if I longed to become | wherever I thought proper behind the scenes a "painted king," with a pasteboard coronet during the performance. I successively viplastered with tinsel, how was my wish to be accomplished? It was one winter's evening at chambers, that, while cogitating over tea and toast my ambitious projects, that a terrific knock came at our office door, and I instantly found myself confronted with the famous tragedian, our client. He was on this occasion excited, but pale and calm-the forced calmness of a man accustomed to command his temper-but nevertheless sorely tried by the harassing expedients of the harpies of the law to make their game with him. He expected, he told me, an arrest that evening, and his object now in calling was to avert it. This I knew he could not do easily, unless he avoided the theatre altogether, and disappointed the audience, who anticipated seeing him that night. But determined within my own mind, for purposes that may be supposed, that I would do Warde a real service, so that I might ask one in return on my behalf. A conversation something like the following therefore took place between us: SELF: "You will find it no easy task to avoid the Sheriff's officers on this occasion; but I know their tipstaffs by face pretty well, and will try to put them off their scent this time. I will just get my outer-coat and hat, and accompany you to the theatre. The entrée, of course, I can have by mentioning your name at the stagedoor. The writ will be served upon you most probably by one of the supers, who will have been bribed for the purpose. I know most of these fellows by sight, and will have an eye in their direction, keeping watch as well at the stage-door on your entering the theatre as on your leaving it. Leave the rest to me." WARDE: "My good fellow, you have set my mind at rest at once. Come with me, and you shall be my 'squire, to attend me on the field of Waterloo, at any rate, to-night." We proceeded to Covent Garden together in a Hackney coach, which we warily took from off the rank in the Strand, to give check to any spies that might be lingering about Lincoln's Inn. On entering the theatre I took care to have my eyes about me, and it was well I had; for as Warde brushed by me and the stage-doorkeeper, whispering the latter that I was his attendant for the night, my experienced glance detected a suspicious stranger at once, standing amid a possè of stage-followers in the hall. The fellow knew his quarry well enough, but did not venture the arrest at that moment, it not being according to his orders, perhaps. I was sure of my surmise being correct. Yes; it was not the stranger" that would that night serve the writ, but a more familiar face to Warde, probably his own orderly on the mimic field of battle itself. Well, I took no notice, but followed the tragedian on to the stage, where we met the prompter (Parsloe, I think), who was informed of what was up, and his good offices being secured by Warde, I was left to move about sited green-rooms, dressing-rooms, musicrooms, painting-rooms-in fact, every conceivable place in the house. To cut a long story short, I found out the man on whom my suspicions rested, as I suspected, among a squad of mimic grenadiers in the supers' dressing-room; he was watching the usual dirty game of "all fours," they played to while away the time. I actually saw the writ sticking out of the fellow's coat pocket, as the coat hung across a chair. I was well-enough known in the supers' room, being a bit of a favourite, on account of sundry treats of beer I had given them to allow me to put on a grenadier uniform and go on in the last scene of the Battle of Waterloo. In this grand military tableau there were hundreds present to dress the stage, and it was considered a desirable thing, even by influential patrons of the theatre, to "show" in the triumphal procession. I got my grenadier's uniform, and took care to be near the owner of the seedy coat with the writ sticking out of it. In due time we were "called," and on we scampered up-stairs and down-stairs, and along winding passages till we reached the stage. I knew my friend the super had the writ in his shako, and kept close to him. At last the green curtain came down, and the usual confusion attendant upon the rush of the actors and actresses to their dressing-rooms took place. This was the moment intended, I thought, for the service. My friend rushed forward to catch Warde at the wing; in doing so I intercepted him, as if accidentally; but, pretending that he had molested me, I playfully knocked off his shako, and out fell the parchment writ and copy; the little roll of papers was scattered by passing feet out of the way, before the super could regain it, and I left him searching for his writ, while I hastened to Mr. W., and apprised him of what had happened. "And what can I possibly do for you, my dear sir, for rendering me this important service?" emphatically inquired the rescued tragedian. Get me appointed an utility - man in the Covent Garden Company," I promptly replied. WARDE: "You! why you would never leave the legal profession, where you have a career before you, I believe, to turn small actor?" SELF: "The legal profession, or the woolsack of the Lord Chancellor, if it were mine, to become a devotee of Thespis! Give me but the chance even of taking the lowest step of the ladder, I will rise betimes......'” WARDE: "Well, I am loth to interfere, on account of your employer being my solicitor; but if you are determined, come to me in a night or two, and we will talk the matter over again." En bref: A consultation took place between the tragedian and Mr. John Dunks, which resulted in my shortly taking leave of the law for ever, and entering Covent Garden Theatre as dramatic copyist and small actor, upon a ¦ salary of 30s, per week. Warde did not forget me, and I got cast for short speaking parts almost before I knew how to employ my voice so as to be heard in the immense auditorium of Covent Garden. But, unfortunately, the closing of the theatre, in consequence of financial difficulties, about this time, deprived me of my valued engagement, as it did, of course, my patron Mr. Warde, and all others connected with the establishment. E. H. MALCOL. THE LADIES' PAGE. GIMP EDGING.-THE SCALLOP. MATERIALS.-Boar's Head crochet cotton, of Messrs. Walter Evans and Co., Derby. 1st Oval. Fill the shuttle, but do not cut the cotton off the reel, as it will be required for a straight thread. Commence a loop, work 2 double stitches, then (1 pearl and 2 double alternately, 7 times); draw close. Turn this oval down under the left thumb. 1st Scallop. Hold the thread from the reel for a straight thread, and with the shuttle work 2 double, then 1 (pearl and 2 double, 5 times). Reverse the work. 2ad Oval. Commence a loop, work 2 double, (1 pearl and 2 double, 3 times); join to the last pearl of the last oval; 2 double, join to the next pearl of the same oval; 2 double, then (1 pearl and 2 double, 7 times); draw close. Reverse the work. 2nd Scallop. Work as the 1st scallop, but making 7 pearl loops instead of 5 pearls. When finished, reverse the work. 3rd Oval. Commence a loop, work 2 double, then (1 pearl and 2 double, twice); join to the 5th pearl of the last oval, counting from the joining; 2 double, join to the next pearl; 2 double, then (1pearl and 2 2 double 8 times); draw close. Reverse the work. 3rd Scallop. Work as the 1st scallop; when finished, reverse the work. 4th Oval. Commence a loop, work 2 double, join to the 5th pearl of the last oval, counting from the joining; then (2 double, join to the next pearl; 2 double (1 pearl and 2 double 5 times); draw close. Reverse the work, and make 3 double stitches with the straight thread and the shuttle in the same manner as the scallops. Then reverse the work. 5th. Commence a loop, work 2 double, join to the 2 double last pearl; 2 double join to the next pearl; (1 pearl and 2 double 5 times); draw close. Reverse the work. Repeat from the 1st scallop. The Heading. Use Crochet Needle Nos. 2 or 3, according to the size of the cotton. Commence in the centre pearl of the 1st oval, work 6 chain, 1 treble in the centre pearl of the 2nd oval, then another treblé in the centre pearl of the 3rd oval; 6 chain, 1 plain in the centre pearl of the 4th oval; repeat from the commencement. CRYSTALLIZING FLOWERS. Our lady-readers may be reminded that the experiment of crystallizing flowers, &c., is simple and beattiful, and can be pursued without difficulty. Dissolve eighteen ounces of pure alum in a quart of soft spring water (observing proportion for the greater or less quantity) by boiling it gently in a close tinned vessel, over a moderate fire, keeping it stirred with a wocden spatula, until the solution is complete. When the liquor is almost cold suspend the object to be crystallized by means of a small thread or twine, from a lath or small stick laid horizontally across the aperture of a deep glass or earthen jar, as being best adapted for the purpose, into which the solution must be poured. The respective articles should remain in the solution 24 hours. When they are taken out they are to be carefully suspended in the shade until perfectly dry. When the subjects to be crystallized are put into the solution while it is quite cold, the crystals are apt to be formed too large; on the other hand, should it be too hot, the crystals will be small in proportion. The best temperature is about ninety-five degrees of Fahrenheit's thermometer. |