^ '^ '^^ o^ p6lw. QOt* AnMH«M,Mi^l» , CWB IK»IiIiAArMid •Las«M)lt,.WbU« BofawrtaoA^'editlQixi mU MrAITi^SK cannot obtoiiowifW fawn looia deaUnr M«d di(#ot ta t))» '^raitlo Ma«B it/.orotatQ;arto'0i*|^UUijiher. • TT 5'*^ ^ SteSi.*'^ a»S. 2?^^ J^'S'' "«'J1^»«» *>m!|»{«&-iwte«(r<«l wj' KMfrr^^Al tt» iiracrtOM «dnic«toaM»ofli1ib)(«etoi$y« times the n^aef. ' ' '- r" . ""V"" *, THAT HUSBAND, OF MINE, A Kreat snocecig in \hb O^it^d State* wail Caukda,. THAT WIFE OF MlNE. ' ,^ Any OD s who hM r^bd " That Bvj^baod of Ulne ■' must not fftU to nad '* That Wife of Miae." You • / will never f)Mlx«t It, Slie la worth ]^er Weight in ([Old. ^ MY MOTrt ER-IN^LA^W. ' A better told *t9i7ia«elfU>mwritf«^. It glv«k a conreot ^iKM,'jprlsdom and proflitabto fun." TH^Q. , By "m^sTrM, Burnett. Ki **i.2?!^!?HS?'- W®'**"-^"*'****^^ iTwfcly, " Th*re is no doubt of tti« poon- " 9h^ ehaiaoters ate woi larity «rf ' ' Dolly " 1« at Itftst eqtnal, tf ntfti tttpatiiop, to-anylhing' THE HOOSIfiR m |kV)^«tt has^w(itt«jrk. -MASTER, :9oaier §ohoo}ma«t4r" has'nm A descriptie^ of back oonntary JUfe' in the Western Sv l^robgh e4itiott agfter edition, both In^ngtand an^' (ib« „,, „ , By MBS. KAHY S.HLOlima. l?S'?^*i'"'5?'*''*'''7PH^?' and flweinaUBgwriter,- He«i>ooksat« always vbtertainlBg, • i^Mi^Jif *w '*'?/^i/*"?"X'^ «UMttaBtheaympa*y and «ffee<;jone trf he/xeadfWrand at Mt OPINIONS AND BETSEY BORRFTS. By JOSIAB AiiLEff'S V^FS. «-wom«n ta Ufe,waids ol li years, I still love with a cast iron dBvotedness." tot . ■ ' 1 J:^OBERTsols^s gheai^ series. POPULAR BEADING AT POPULAR PRICES. BIRDS OF A FEATHER FLOCK TOGETHER. By E. A. SOTHERN THE CELEBRATED ACTOR. COMPLETE. TORONTO : J. Ross Robertson, 67 Yonok St. 1878. INTRO DT7CTI ON. likl ward Askew Sothern, the great actor, numbera his friends and admirers by thou- sands, on both sides of the Atlantic. As the author of those wondrous creations of Dundreary, Brother Sam, "The Crushed Tragedian," and other characters, marked by genius and intense individuality, he has, the editor believes, added another boon to the public by making this book possible. Although its contents were gleaned, from time to time, in conver- sations with the eminent artist and his friends, they cannot convey the genial glow of his own happy words, the sparkle of his merry laughter, or the subtle mimicry which makes Sothern as a story-teller justly fa- mous on two continents. Nevertheless, it is to be hoped that the bubble and flavour of his narratives are herein more or leus retain- ed, and that the reader will be refreshed by the frolicsome experiences of such a frank and sunny nature. A few words may be pardoned here in regard to the artistic work of Mr. Sothern. Coming into the notice of play- goers at a period when the best talent and genius of the century were represented on the dramatic stage, he achieved a success which was indeed phenomenal, in Dundreary; but the apparent spontaneity of the ludicrous character was the result of patisnt enduring toil, of intelligent study and happy intui- tion. He it was who rounded the slender outlines of the silly lord until they became a living possibility. With patient elabora- tion, touch by touch, with the skill of a con- summate artist, true to his art, the work was completed harmoniously perfect in gesture, graceful in movement, and is a lasting testimony of the author's skill, judgment, and genius. That Mr. Sothern's mind is original and inventive his later work eminently shows. In "David Garrick," that production abounding in delicate tints and snades, vet so full of striking contrasts of colour, where every gradation of comedy is por- trayed, and the delineation of a many- sided character marvellously rendered, is to be found a striking example of these quali- ties. Great, however, as is the character of Gamck in Mr. Sothern's hands, his Fitz Altamont, in the "Crushed Tragedian," marked one of the greatest achievements in his career, in the entire obliteration of what was called his individuality in all his old characters, and determined his ability as an author, no less than his versatility as an ac- tor. He is always remarkable for correct instinct in matters pertaining to his art, and never hesitates to cut himself loose from stage traditions whenever they conflict with his judgment or refined taste. If a word of excuse is needed for this apparent recapitulation of some of Mr. Sothern's triumphs, it is in the fact that to write about him at all seer.is impossi- ble, without connecting him with the works which have made him celebrated. The glimp- ses of the many-sided nature of the man to be found in the pages of this book, the un- dertone of refinement, the quiet philosophy, the boyish humour, the gentle heart over- flowing with charity, will be to many per- sons, perhaps, a picture more captivating even than Dundreary, David Garrick, the Crushed agedian, or Sydney Spoonbill, on the mim. t , age. It shoi'ict be stated, in conclusion, that whatever responsibility may attach to the subject-matter of the volume belo'igs solely to the undersigned. The reminiscences are given with much the same freedom as were the original off-hand conversations out of which the book has grown, and the author here makes his acknowledgments to Mr. Sothern for the courtesy which, even though reluctantly shown, permitted this publica- tion. The Editor. BIRDS OF A FEATHER FLOCK TOGETHER. EDWARD A. SOTHERN, Fit ia not » matter of wonder that Sothern » spoken of aa "a prince of good fellowi." He ia maenetio in manner, humoroua in tpeeuh, rion in reminiscence, responsive and •ympathetic, a good listener, an equally good talker, and always sparkling like a newiy-opened bottle of champagne. With such a battery of social forces, added to ability of a high order in the representation of Uie peculiar characters with which his name is now identified on both sides of the Atlan- tic, professisonal success has been a legiti- mate result. In person Mr. Sotheru is pro- bably five feet ten inches in height, and put together as if intended for hard work. He is wiry, elastic, as restless as a bundle of nerves under galvanic influence, and would ■be marked in any crowd as a man possessed of strong individuality and unusual personal characteristics. In age the actor has been ■o well preserved that, like Tim Linkinwa- 'ter,he might have been born one hundred and Uttj years old and gradually come down to live and twenty, for he seems younger every 'birthday than he was the year before. In truth, however, he is fifty-one ye^rs of age, and milord ohucklingly refers to the fact that, havinff come into the world on the £nt of April, " Dundreary " and his " Bro- ther Sara" are naturally April fools. His face, undistnrbei by a wrinkle or a line of trouble, and habitnally quiet, is still lighted nip under a mass ' beautiful white hair by a pair of bright v i «h-gray eyes, which look as if they were ndergoing continual drill to keep them in proper subjection. It is a -countenance full of expression — now as im- perturbable as if it were carved out of lignum vitffi, a perfect dead wall, and again filled with a crowd of welcomes shining out of -every smile. A lone gray moustache hides th'3 mouth, but {ails to conceal the many little lights that hover around the comers, especially whea the mental Hreworks are let off, and one begins to feel as if he were an aurora berealis. Tidy in dress, with lit- tle or DO display of jeweliery, socially a Gold- smith Maid going at her level best, ingen- -uous, open and frank in the acknowledgment f a foible or an error, such ia an ofl^hand o pen portrait of Edward A. Sothern, the actor. As a conversationalist Mr. Sothern has few superiors, inasmuch as he combines in a rare degree, memory, imagination, humour, and a dramatic power of description that in- vests with a charm whatever he may nar- rate. It is at the head of his own table, however, and in his own home, when sur- rounded by suggestive and sympathetic guests, that he is always to be heard to the est advantage. Under conditions of this character, covering a series of weeks, most of the reminiscences in the present volume have been seized upon and committed to pa- per. Justice to the narrator compels the re- mark that the incidents, as written, but faintly represent the vivacity of the origi- nals, for it is not within the province of printed thought to portray the sparkle of the eye or the unctuousneas of manner that marks the perfect telling of his stories. The parlours of Mr. Sothern at the Ora- ni«rcy-Park Hotel, in New York, are fami- liar to hundreds of the most noted citisena of the country, and these have represented all of the professions, from the ballet dancer to the clergyman. Once within the suite, the invited guest is expected to be thorough- ly at home ; if a musician, to exercise to his heart's content upon the graud piano ; if an artist, to enjoy the works of art that abound; and if a bon vivant, to make merry with the spacious sideboard. In every sense, the hospitality is refined, and the generosity un- restrained. It was only a few days prior to the begin- ning of these pages, that a number of een- tlemen being assembled here, one of them asked Mr. Sothern if he had any objection to relate some of the circumstances connect- ed with his early career and subsequent sue oesB. " None whatever, only," — turning to a collection of photographs on the mantel- piece, and picking up three or four, he re- plied, — " it's along.long story ;for a man with a twenty-year-old lad like tbat, who ia al- ready on the stage, another like bbis, who is a student in an English college of art, and a girl of twelve, scarcely knows where to be- pn to reeite his memories. Fill your glasses. TALKS WITH. AND however, and listen. THK ACTOR'S EAKLY LIKE. " I WM educated foraome yearn by a private tutor, with theniieer name of J>r. Redhead, the rector of an Knglish church, it being un- durstootl that I should become a surgeon. I attended «11 the oMrmttoua for,acupp)e of years in the Middlesex Hospital, l^ondon, but the disgusting scenes of the dlsaecting room so sickened nie that I abandoiied the work. A/ter that I studied theology for two or three years, and theological books are oven to-day my favourite reading. With- out going too deeply into the □'..•tter, 1 may say that my investigations in this direction and many controversies with clergymen threw a wet blanket on my ambition to re- present the church militant, and deter- mined the bent of my mind in ano- ther direction. It was not long before I cominenoed the study of the old dramas, and as an amateur appeared at the Theatrs Royal, Island of .Jersey, in the character of UtiioUo, on the occasion of a beneht. Although it was an extremely bad performance on my part, the manager offered me an engagement at a salary of thirty-five shillings a week. I indignantly refused it, and the consequence was that a little while afterward I was obliged to accept a salary of fifteer shillings a week. I was then about twenty-one years of age. On my arrival at the theatre, in Guernsey, where I had been engaged, I found the play of ' Hamlet ' an- nounced for the first night, and that I was cast for Laertes, the Ghost, and the Second Aotor. Jupiter ! how staggered I was at that ! I had a memorandum stuck on the wings to tell me when to make ray changes. Some practical joker took the memorandum down, and the consequence waa, that relying on my memoi^, I wax continually bounding on the stage in the wrong charaoter. Oh, the agony of that night ! Fancy the Ghost goin^ on to aot as Laertes 1 I was im- mediately dismissed for incapacity. In fact, that entire portion of my professional career was marked by frequent dismissals for in- capacity. A REMINISCENCE OF CHARLES KEAN. " A few months after this I was playing at Weymouth, England. The 'Scotch Greys ' were quartered at Dorchester, a few miles distant, and Charles Kean was on a visit to some of the officers. A friend of mine persuaded Kean to come and see me play 'Claude Melnotte' and 'Used Up.' The next morning I reodved a letter from Kean, which, by the way, I have now. Bay- ing that he heard I was a novice, and strongly advising me to adopt the stage as a pro-^ fession. He also kindly pointed out my many faults, but soothed me with tiie ramark that I had groat originality. A vear after thiM, when acting in Portsmouth, I received another letter from Mr. Kean, asking if. it wouhl be convenient for me t) play the same cliaracter in which he hail seon me, aildiug that he would send a friend to give his judg- uuuit conctsming my j)rogres8 and improve- ment. Unfortunately, however, I lost the opportunity. From I'ortsmouth I went to Wolverhampton and Uirminghain, my highest salary being thirty-tive shilfings a week, for whioh I playetl Romeos, Meruutios, and all the juvenile and light comedy business. I then had a season of broad low comedy parts. After this, Mr. Laoy, the dramatic publislier of London, made me au offer of $05 a week to go to Boston, where I opened in Dr. I'angloss and a low farce called ' John Dobbs.' My failure in Pangloss was com- plete, although the audience were kind enough, because I was a stranger, to call ine before the curtain and so give me encourage- ment. The papers cut me up maroilessly and unanimously, but I had just enough common sense to know that their remarks were strictly true. I was again dismissed for incapacity, I then went to the Howard Athenajum to play ju'-enile parts, at a re- duced salary. They dismissed me again for incapacity. FIRST EXPERIENCE IT NEW YORK. " Discovering that Boston was not exactly the field for success, I came to New York, and applied to Mr. Barnum, who was then running his Museum where the Herald build- ing now stands; told him in a straightforward manner all that had occurred, and askedi him to ^ive me an opportunity of playing twice a day. I felt that all I wanted was- constant practice ana experience. He en- grged me at a salary of 820 a week, and a little while afterwutls raised it to {125. I did play twice a day, and on Thanksgiving Day six times ; but it did me an enormous deal of good. After thwi Mr. Marshidl, of the Broadway, engaged me for ^0 a week, to play here and at the National Theatre, Washington. I mention these details only to show you what we of the old scliool had to undergo in order to achieve success. The very fact that we were obliged to play so many parts created a repose which, it seems- to me, few of our modem actors possess. After this I went to Baltimore under the managemrat of Laura Keene, at a salary of $50 ft w^ek and from there transferred vsv alliance to Mr. Wallack, with whom I re- mained four years. During this time I was waiting for an opportunity,, andi in every. e M ft pro- ed out inv the r«mark ^ vear after , 1 received asking if. it ly the aitme me, addiug tre hia judg- ul improve- I loat the 1 went to , my highest % weak, for ioi, and all •uiineas. I >Mr comedy le dramatic offer of $25 [ opened in ,l]ed 'John I was com* were kind , to call me enoourage- muroileasly ust enough lir remarks I dismifised le Howard ia, at a re* le again for W YORK. not exactly Sew York, o was then irald build- ghtforward and asked. of playing ranted was- e. He en- 'eek, and a to (125. I lanksgiviiig a enormous ' [arshall, of i40 a week, il Theatre, etails only Bcliool had iceas. The to play BO h, it seema- >r8 possess. under the a saUry of mfavwoA n\v - '-J r horn I re- time I waS" il in every. ABOUT 80THKRN piec " produced I always studied such partft M Loator Walla<-k and Charles Waloottwero oaat for, and prepared myself at any moment to take their i^laues. My stars I bow 1 uae >mproini8e by rrick,' which, iken scene, in Feet. During kyed it much 3ary, both in seem egotii* )xeaford, the now dead, in ew, was kind to be called r of ' Brother love scene in OME»AND L" ntereating to ug letter, in- lubt concern- e authorship 1 Garrick :" ^ov. 2, 1877. ft Herald t^' y mentioned ene " in Tom lome. " The jondon /Cra, bat offensive son, the late I of month Bared in Uit ttes that he " at the re. 'o this asser- lifieddeniid. rtson wonld w the "love his? Mr. a known to in this caae just to my athem's re- that he can ome," is an rof "gags." am, youra BBRT80N. In reaponse to the foregoing remarkable letter, I have only to add that my oriffinal statement is emphatically true. Mr. Robert- son never was satistied with his version of "Home, "and on several occasions appealed to me to make such alterations and improve- ments as might be suggested. I did so, and the " love scene," in the second act, with the exception of a few lines, is the result. That it likewise proved a success is attested by the commendation which it has every- where received when played. The part that I act in "Home" requires no "gags," and would not admit of them. Hence the refer- ence to the term by Mr. T. W. S. Robertson is uncalled for and offensive. I have too large an admiration for the memory of the dead author to say a word that could be con- strued as a reflection on his memory, but jnstice to myself requires that I should con- tradict the miaatatements and correct the ignorance of his son. The following unso- licited note from my friend, Mr. Lester Wal- lack, will doubtless se' Se matter at rest: Wallace's Theatkx. Jctober 29, 1877. Mr Dbar Sothern, — Permit me to bear testimony to the truth of your statement with regard to the late Tom Robertson's play of "Home." The "love scene" in the second act was coaceived and written by you. This Mr. Robertson told me himself. And when you so kindly gave me the printed book of the comedy, your scene was inserted in MS., and a capital scene it is. Always jours truly, Lksxer Wallace," I have only to add that Mr. Tom Robert- «>n not unfrequently fell short of his own ideal in his work. His play of " David Gar- rick," as can be proved by Mr. J. B. Buck- atone, the manager of the Theatre Royal, Haymarket, London, was literally unsuitable for representation until he and I rewrote a oonsiderable part of it, and even now I am from time to time engaged in making further improvement. The manner of Mr. T. W, S. Robertson in addressing the public demands explanation, and until it is made he oannht worthily wear the title of a gentleman. I am, sir, yours obediently. E. A. SO-FHRRN. HISTORY OP " DAVID GARRICK." The host being further questioned concern- ing the history of the play of " Uavid Gar- rick," and the m:umer in which it came to be put upon the stage, Mr. Sothern replied : " ' David Garrick ' was translated from a Tjcffiiari piece cailctl ■ Ooctwr Garrick,' by Tom Robertson. It was adapted by two French dramatists, one of whom made a ihree-act eomedy, and the other a one-act farce. The translation by Robertson was a very rough one, and he sold it to Mr. Laoy, the dramatic publisher, for £10. Lacy sub- sequently endeavoured to dispose of the Rtanuscript, but it was rejected by all the managers in London, No one weuld touch it, and he kept ' David Garrick ' in his drawer for eight years. It was during this period that I became acquainted with Robertson, and formed a close and intimate friendship which endured until the poor fellow's death. He told me that if I would play a piece of his, it would be the beginning of his fortune, and day after day we sat to- gether contriving and discussing plots. The result was the production of ' Society,' which was eventually performeil at the Prince of Wales' Theatre, Before this, however, I had read it to Buckstone, the manager of the Haymarket, who came to the conclusion that my part was not strong enough to make a success. Acting on his advice, I reluctantly returned the manuscript to Robertson, It was then that he found a purchaser in Miss Marie Wilton — now Mrs. Bancroft — who, as every one knows, played it with great suc- cess at the Prince of Wales'. Mr. Bancroft, who played the part which was intended for me, certainly made more of it than I could possibly have done. Robertson felt quite low-spirited over the rejection of the play by Buckstone, notwithstanding my constant en- deavour to give him encouragement. " In the course of a conversation one day, he mentioned incident«lly that many years ago he had translated a Gemau comedy en- titled 'Doctor Davy,' and recited the plot to me. It was so slight and thread-like, however, that an ordinary page of note paper would have sufficed to describe the whole thing. Notwith standing this, I was ctruck by the simplicity of the story, and saw at a glance that it contained the elemtnte of success in pennit- ting a certoin kind of character acting which I believed could be made attractive by reason of its novelty. When the piece was read to Buckstone, he at flrst refused to have anything to do with it, but I finally per- suaded him to put it on the stage. Rehearsal after rehearsal took place, a vast amount of alteration was made — and, by-the-by, Buok- ntone never omits to give me credit for re- writing, as I mentioned before, nearly the whole of the second act — and when it was finally produced under the name of ' David Garrick,' it met with a reception as flattering as the success was unequivucaL That's the history of ' David Garrick. ' , THE "CRUSHED TRAGEDIAN." "In my judgment, however, ' The Crushed Trasedian, ' my latest and newest part, if not the best in my repertoire, is likely to com- 10 TALKS WITH, AND miuid popular favonr at once wherever per- formed, and to retain its bold upon the stage for many years. It is replete with pathos, and yet gives the leading actor an oppor- tunity for very strong character representa- tion. It was originally produced in London under the title of the 'Prompter's Box,' the part of the prompter being personated by Benjamin Webster. As I was acting at the Hayraarket Theatre at the time, I could not see the piece performed. Mr. Byron is the author. Afterwards, when in Philadelphia, a friend of mine asked me why I had never played Fitz Altamont, and informed me of the points of the part. I telegraphed to Byron for a copy, read it carefully, and came to the conclusion that it could be so elabo- rated asjto exactly tit my style. It appeared that if I could good-naturedly satirize the old school of acting, contrasting it through the several characters with the present school, I should arrive at the same effects in another manner which were produced in Dun- dreary ; that is to say, that though stigma- tized by everybrdy as a very bad tragedian, I should gain the sympathy of the audience in the satire, however much they might laugh at my peculiarities. The character is not an imitation of any actor I ever hate seen. I have simply boiled down all the old .school tragedians as I boiled down all the fops I had met before I played Dundreary. I tested the piece in Philadelphia, and its sue. ess was immediate. Still I am at- tached to my first love. Dundreary, and from time to time during my professional career shall continue to present him to the public." A CRITICISM OF THE "CRUSHED." The following criticism is from the Phila- delphia Inquirer (January, 1878), and is not more graceful than it is just : "MR. SOTHKRN IN THE ' CRUSHED TEAOEDIAN. ' " Mr. Sotheru's impersonation of Fitz Altamont, the Crushed Tragedian, is the more impressive the oftener it is seen, and the more attentively it is studied. To fully appreciate its surpassing merits as a dra- matic realization, it is necessary to do some- thing more than look and laugh. It is only when we have seen Mr. Sotheru's perform- ances so often that we can forego the enjoy- ment of the playgoer, to watch with the eyes of a student, that the artistic ^wer of the creation is revealed. Then, and not till then, do we begin to understand what a creation his Fitz Altamont really is. " Much has been said of the wonderful versatility of the actor who could, from Dundreary, transform himself with such magical completeness into thai' utter anti- thesis of the English fop, the sombr^ mis- anthropio, theatrical Altamont ; but ' this ▼arsatility, noteworthy as it is, ia one of the least reinarkable charaoteriatics of the im- personation. Mr. Sothem's impersonation shows in a greater degree, perhaps, than anything he has ever done before ; but the greatest merit of his Fitz Altamont lies in this : out of a mere thing of shreds and patches, out of a stage tradition, a conven- tional lauching-stock, a popular butt, he has- created a living, sentient human being. luto the dry bones of a common caricature he has- breathed vitality. " For it is just as impossible not to recog- nize in the ' crushed ' a fellov-being, having, the same feelings and affections as ourselves, as it is not to laugh at the strange eccentri- cities which distinguish him. ' Fitz ' is hu- man to begin with, and so commands our sympathies. He is also in dead earnest. He believes in his own powers with all his might and main. His vanity is eqnal to that which consumed the heart of Midrolit), and hi sF vanity impels him, as it im|MUed the croas-gartered steward, to believe anything of himself and his capacities. F^rom some reason or other Fitz Altamont nas taken up the idea that he is a tragic genins, and he believes that with all his heart and soul. When he announces himself as being crushed it is with the utmost sincerity. 'The spcta- tor knows better. He knows that his vani- ty is Altamont's sole stock in trade, and thus the character becomes laughter-provoking. " And how langhable it is, only those who have seen Mr. Sothern play it can form an idea. With wHat elaboration of detail does the actor embody his conception ! There is not a gesture, not an intonation, not a mova- ment, but seems to illustrate the character portrayed. He strides across the stage, and it is as though he were wading through a sea of gore ; he mutters to himself, 'Ha ! ha ! ' and you know that he is cnrsing fate with a bitterness loud and deep ; he scowls, and it is plain that he thinks his frown is as inajestic as Olympian Jove himself ; he flings himself into a chair as though wearied with such a continual battling with destiny; he leans, in contemplation, against the man- tel-piece, and it is manifest that he is philo- sophically pondering, a la 'Hamlet,' upon the vanity of the world and its lack of ap- preciation for genius, and always and in all things poor Altamont is exquisitely, inde- scribably ludicrous. " But whatever he says or does, no faiat- est suspicion that he is making himself ridi- -— "— — •— ^."—5^:* -...-. ......... .... .« mvisvMV the least scintilla ot humour, and, acting as he is all the time, he is all the time in deadly earnest. It ia. the world that is out of ioint, not he. Mr.. ABOUT SOTHERN. IE it ; but ' thia ii one of the !■ of the im- nperaouation arhaps, than ore ; bi^t the imont lies in ahreds and 1, a conven- butt, he has- 1 being. Into mature he has not to recog- >eiDg, having, as ourselves,. Dge eccentri- 'Fitz'ishu- mmands our ead earnest. 9 with all his equal to that [i^Yolib, and imtwUed the !ve anything From some has taken up mins, and he .rt and soul. >eing crushed The spcta- hat his vani- ^e, and thus provoking, ly those who }an form an I detail does I I There is not a more- he character he stage, at>d g through a mself, 'Ha ! cursing fate ; he scowls, B frown is as bimself ; he tngh wearied 'itn destiny; nst the maa- t he is philo- Eimlet,' upon I»ck of ap- 8 and in all iitely, inde- >os, no faiat- himself ridi- t^ if7 rrtxmvvtv lonr, and, time, he- mest. It is. tot he. Mr.. Sii>th, ioipersoaation of 'De LacyFitz Alta'T. t' is no lass an acquisition to the dramatic world than a triumph of the actor's talent." THE "ftORNET'S NEST." " How do yon account for the fact, " in- quired a gentleman, "that a|play so brimfull of witasyour 'Hornet's Nest 'is comparative- ly a failure, after such a successful repre- sentation as that of the 'Crushed Trage- dian?'" "Prom my point of judgment, it is not a failure. Much of the success of an English Elay is due to national temperament. The umour that affects an English audience is to a certain extent unlike that which influ- ences an American audience. What produces loud laughter in one country, merely creates a ripple of merriment in the other, and rice versa. I have noticed that nearly all of the critics on the American press have bestowed generous praise on the ' Hornet's Nest,' and especially on my part of Sydney Spoon- bill, while the audiences have sometimes been cold. Had the same piece been pro- duced in London, it would have been receiv- ed with screams ot laughter from beginning to end. My own impression is, that its chief fault consists in its lack of serious in- terest, for American audiences insist on backbone to a play. Mr. W. S. Gilbert's pieces, which are exquisitely written, and replete with the finest wit and satire, ac- cording to English notions, have rarely been successfnl in America — that is to say, among the masses. By the critics, and the highly educated few, however, their talent and originality are invariably commended. The same remark may be made with reference to Henry J. Byron's burlesques, although many of his dramas have been eminently successful. " I am frequently asked why I don't play more parts in my old line of business, what might be called 'the romantic juvenile parts.' My answer' is that I am now fully convinced that in order to keep my hold on the public, I must for the future devote my- self to strong, original characterizations. " A CRITICISM OF THE "HORNET'S NEvST." "Perhaps," said Mr. Sothem, turning to a jjortfolio, "this cHticism by 'Trinculo, ' which I found in the New York Spirit of the Times, will convey a good idea of the ' Hor- net's Nest,' and the manner in^ which it strikes the iutelligeub niiud. The writer ■ays : " The ' Hornet's Nest ' proved to be one of Mr. Sothern's jokes. Perhaps I should say a thousand and one of his jokes. "Everybody screamed at it, aad then said it was thin. I beUeved everybody went baok the next night and aoreamed! again. "Sydney Spoonbill, the hero of this ab- surdity, is no other person than our estima- ble friend, Mr. Sothem, himself, who smokes several good cigars, and keeps up a running commentary of wit and humour. "If the Paragraphers' Club were to write a play, I think it would be like the ' Hornet's Nest.' *' ' Crackling Thorns ' would have been a better title for it. " Such acting as it gives occasion for is ex- quisitely done. Mr. Sothem seems to have said, ' I will show you how fine it is for a player not to act at all. I will be perfectly natu- ral, and never resort to a stage trick, and yon shall see me walk up and down in an easy, nonchalant manner, saying all the fun- ny things of which the language is capable. You shall roar with the nonsense of it, and be tickled to death. ' "But pure, unadulterated fun for two hours and a half won't do. There must be a serious spot in it. Eveii a negro minstrel,, who is the maddest wag alive in real life, has to black up and have his serious moments. "People don't like nature half as well as they do art. They don't want the real thing so heartily as they do the sham thing. A newspaper 'that is all paragraphs, and never an obituary or an outrage, is a dread- ful affair. " There is a popular notion that people go to the theatre now-a-days to be amused. I used to think so myself. But I've got over it. I think now that nine-tenths of them go- to the play-house to have their feelings out- raged ; and if the playwrig}^ or the actor doesn't outrage them, ths^ feel like the pmde who hasn't been insulted by anybody. "The 'Hornet's Nest' is in reality a mare's nest. , It makes you search a good while, without finding anything. Mr. So- thern's hornets are jokes. They bnzz all through it. Nobody can make such an idi- otic pun as he. He used to strangle us with them when he played Dundreary : now he lets loose the whole swarm. "By his jokes you may know him any- where. Besides, he has got one of bis love scenes in it. Who wrote that episode in the last act, where one lover sits on the edge of the table, and deals his pas- sion out in mofn, and swings his lejB[, and turns the language inside out, to see if it has. any fan in it : And the other lover sit ii a chair, in a muslin dreas, and looks sweet, and doesn't do anything else except laugh at the insane brilliancy of the fellow who i» pulling her hand about. 12 TALliS WITH, AND " I wonder if that ia the way people make lore now-a-dayi. And if all the amorous paaaion of ournatures can expend itaelf in gags, if we are self-possessed and well trained ! " Sothern is a pre-Raphaelite. Nobody can reproduce nature in such minutenesg as he, when he pleases. I call him a perfect artixt. " But I don't think much of the " Hornet's 3[est,' except for an afterpiece." A LOVE STORY NECESSARY TO A SUCCESSFUL PLAY. "To what do you ascribe the success of jronr plays ?" " I don't believe that either ' Dundreary ' ■or the ' Crushed Tragedian ' would have met with th« extraordinary success which has at- tended their presentation in America, if it were nut for the pretty love story that runs ■through both pieces like a kind of golden thread. Besides, Dundreary and Fitz Alta- mont, in spite of their strong peculiarities, are thorough gentlemen at heart. For the future I shall devrte myself to what may be called ' Robsonian ' parts — those which give me latitude for original conception. Of course this determination involves an im- mense amount of thought and work. Loan master any lifl[ht comedy or juvenile part in 48 hours, so far as the language is concerned ; but in the creation of a character, every look, tone, motive, that suggests or shades an individuality must be the subject of pa- tient practice. The mere inflection of a voice will often make a difference with an appreciative audience, and the very cues have frequently to be delivered in a way which it is impossible to illustrate except by repeated rehearsals. W. S. GILBERT, THE DRAMATIC ^ AUTHOR. " By the way, I referred a moment ago to W. S. Gilbert, the dramat.' . writer, who I look upon not only as one of the shining lights of modern dramatic literature, but an -excellent, generous, and high-toned gentle- man. As an illustration of the kindness of his heart, about a year ago I made a proposi- tion to him to write a comedy for me, which he agreed to do for the sum of two thousand guineas, to be paid on the delivery cf the -manuscript. I particularly requested him not to make an individual part for me, inas- much as I wished to select it myself. The play, when finished, was a beautiful compo- sition, but after many weeks of thought and reading I came to. the c".ncl«sior. that the character of an cid man which Mr. Gilbert had created eviuently for my own persona- tion was not suitf/d to my style and methods. In fact, he had made what might be called a ' part piece,' and I wrote to bim to that effect. He replied in the most un- selfish spirit, expreasing his regrets that I had not been suited and offering to take back the play. I speak of this circumstance because it is an exceptional instance of large- heartedness on the part of one who might legally and reasonably have enforced his con- tract. It was an excellent production, but practically too far in advance of the demands of the present time. I have a number of similar pieces that are almost open to the same criticism. What the people seem to require, at this moment, is not so much ele- gance of composition, in which the real ge- nius of the poet and the playwright is repre- sented, as strong and exciting situations and characterizations. " HENRY J. BYRON. " I infer from what you have said that you also greatly admire Henry J. Byron, the dramatic author ?" " I do," answered Mr. Sothern, " and so will any one who understands the character of the man, and appreciates his extraordi- nary facility for punning, twisting words in- side out, and producing the wittiest of ef- fects. One, however, frequently, must read his burlesques before seeiue them, in order to understand the nice shading which he em- ploys in his word-painting. As regards his plays when put upon the stage, not one com- pany in a hundred can give the necessary point to Byron's witticisms without seeming to force them. I know him well, and never have met a gentleman in all my travels who more completely corruscated with brilliant thoughts and repartee. A stenographer could almost write an admirable burlesque by taking down what Byron says at his own dinner table, bocause his humour is thrown off so easily and naturally. Wit with him is spontaneous, and when in the mood every sentence is an epigram. It is a prevailing impression that Byron writes too rapidly, but to my certain knowledge he frequently does not take a pen in hand for weeks at a time. I have often seen him after a chatty dinner go to his desk and make a half-dozen memoranda. During that time he has prob- ably evolved the skeleton of a play. He never commences a drama wondering how he is going to finish it ; the framework is all clear before he puts pen to paper. The be- ginning and end of every act is definitely settled; as to the dialogue, that comes to him more rajjidly thau he can scribble. I oaee asaeu nim why he didn't use a short- hand reporter. He replied that the scratch- ing of his quill on *,he paper was like music to him. Another thing : he scarcely ever is guilty of an erasure, and when he has once f ABOUT SOTHEHN. 13: [ wrot* to faim 1 tha moat un- ragreta that I iriog to take I circumstance itance of large- B who 'might forced hia con- iroduotion, but if the demands a number of open to the ople seem to so much ele- i the real ge- right is repre- situations and »N. lave said that J. Byron, the Brn, "and so the character his oxtraordi- Ling worda in- vittiest of ef- ily, must read im, in order to which he em- &s regards his , not one com- ihe necessary hout seeming all, and never y travels who with brilliant stenogrnpher hie burlesque kys at his own J.S.riarlte, STAGE. on by one Ihis^ ex • era Mid : "1 hkt direction. ry one even- » wai packed, ide trying to ed to line the der to keep ntrjrman and :j in the up- one of my ily during a .r of laughter, 't in't.' To lly loud tone, along, Sally.' the remark, would shout, • aat in the pit St two acts, ■you couldn't i laughed at le interfered the prompter ^e the man. pot he fonnd klly latighed dely enough, it the same -while Bouci- Bawn' at the ider the in- rth to a child removed. In from an ex> ler from the proves that ;th as its op- ough diverse [n fact it is I even more lelodrama or ise the actor mply by the )ry, while in er by action an idea, the ind the mag. TORS. 8 concerning r and their an to answer, 'e are passing teople do no t ABOUT SOTHiXN. 16 carefortbe higher order of pla]ra and such bright thoughts as are to be found in the old comedies like 'School for Scandal,' &c. The modern audience seems to desire con- stant action, no matter how bad it may be, rather than sparkling dialogue such as is written by Qilbert#nd Byron, and the con- sequence is that dramatist, manager and aotor are forced to recognize the momentary wants of an eccentric public. " at she witb«d y friends, the the brigADda )ds, which ro- ller tftught me with » mar* [ girl revolved ieded to sing By," Mid Mr. nankger when 'the artistic lam, the great n of his power, . in a London luccess, ' The h,' had taken a the course as manacled cell, but it e he thought ng, and he in« lis : ' Ah me I ind here a pri- e. The more alls, the more I sea."' This and in an m- Qis galloping an firaham in* style, which imitate, the t until he had te realized th& 1 was careful he mistake, jiven by a no- duty it was to n exceedingly jnes, he dash* I : 'ling one 1 own stairs It nowhere, teed," '— ; the cue, pro- Nobody but ,te the horror these contre- ills that chase raj as one con* n and the pos- ence." IE FILE." [ which a good irumps to con- Qot have been ' port oi «* pri- ir to make his person a tile e had filed off and was just ABOUT SOTHERN. !7 about to leave, when the king's carbineers, overhearing the noise of his clinking chains suddenly make their appearance at the iron lattice work of the dungeon door, and while pointing their muskets at him, the captain of the guard gives the order to ' Fire !' The triggers were pulled, but unfortunately the propertymen had forgotten to put caps on the nipples of the guns. Of course there was no gettmg out of the dilHoulty except by suicide, and here is ;vhere the genius of the artist displayed itself. With a quick move- ment he thrust the long bit of iron in the direction of his throat, at the same inutant performing a kind of oonjuriug trick, which caused it to disappear, and then melodrama- tically exclaimed : ' My God ! I have swal- lowed the tile !' He thereupon proceeded to die in great agony. The majority of the au- dience were not any the wiser, but the fel- low might as well have said, ' I have swal- lowed Gramercy Park. ' "I don't know," continued Mr. Sothern, " that I have ever been so unfortunate— cer- tainly not in late years — as to be caught in this way. In fact, I have never been suc- cessful in any piece in which I was not per- fect in the words. For this reason, I always know what is going on about me ; what the actors are saying, or ought to say and do. I am therefore ready to prompt them whenever j-e- qnirod. For myself, I rely entirely upon the magnetism of the audience, and its influence upon an acutely nervous system, for the production of effects which frequently are as novel &nd startling to my brother actors as they are to myself. This is especially true of my part of Fitz Altamont, in the * Crushed Tragedian,' where I have occa- sionally lost my identity so completely that, to the amazement of the people on the stage and those nearest to it, I have commenced to rant in an undertone in a style that would have made the Bowery gods yell had it been nttered by Richard III. on ' Bosworth's gory field.' I don't think I am alone in this peculiarity, though it is a decidedly bad one for any man to possess." Some one suggested, at this juncture, that possibly a disposition to improvi dreary. Of course it was a predicament that I was obliged to accept, and from which I couldn't escape. The tenpence I held in my hand was obviously too little with whkh to 'tip 'these ambitious aiotora, and the only other coin about me was a sovereign. This I handed to the Ghost. They immediately Sroceeded to give three cheers for Don* reary, the unusual liberality was MMotaAced to the audience from the Bt»ge, the band struck np ' Should auid acquaintenee be forgot,' and we were aooompanied by bowli of admiration fnm a large mob until we ar- rived at our hotel. I'm very sure you don't have any su<^ ' Brotiier professienus ' in this countty. STUDIES FROM LIFE. " One of the pwtimes which I occMiMuJly enjoy is "Uiat of studying idiosyncrasiM of character. Sometimes I have spent days and weeks in foHawing and observing tnen whose ecceatrioities of dreM or mMttier struck me as uniqse and BBgge«tiv«, It's tl» TALKS WITH, AND oarioui, too, bow much one becomes inter- eetod in these subjects, artistically, 1 mean, and how a thought thus created grows upon you and enlarged until at last you have se- cured a new, well-developed character around which cluster any number of possible stage cflfects. Speaking of this, 1 bave a friend, a physician, on whom this kind of intellectual entertainment or association, according to his own statement, produced a singular mttuence. He told me that years ago] he was a medical attendant in an insane asyluin, and while treating the patients and listening to their wild vagaries, he found himself drifting unconsciously into the same channels, his sleep disturbed by strange dreams, and his whole nature absorbed in the conteinpUtion of the mad world. Insanity seemed to follow hiui like a nightmare, until at last, finding that his mind was likely to become more or less sympathetically affect- ed, he determined to sacrifice his salary, retire from the institution, and commence the ordinary practice of medicine. He says that if he had remained in the asylum six months longer he would have been as crazy AS any of his patients. The truth is, once a fixed i lea gets into a man's mind, it is the begi.iuing of insanity. The rest is only a quebtion of time." " Is it not true, Mr. Sothem, that all of the artists in your profession, who have achieved success, have made these life studies ?" "I think it is, without exception. For- rest was a very close observer ; Joe Jeffer- son, William J. Florence, John McCullai'.gh, John Owens, John T. Kayniond, J. S .Clarke, the Booths — infact, all who illustrate strong character, have taken their studies directly from nature. You might as well expect Landseer to paint one of his magni- ficent dogs with life-like fidelity, or Bierstadt to portray the glorious scenery ot che Rocky Mountains or the Yosemite Valley, without having taken lessons onj the spot ; or Mc- Donald or Ward, the sculptors, to represent the human form divine, without » perfect knowledge of anatomy, and constant study from the living nude figure, as to find a suc- cessful actor who has not in a simiUr way taken his subjet directly from life. It's a grand sight to see these workers, with the pencil and chisel, going out to consult nature. Bradford, for instance, will spend months around the Arctic circle, among ice- bergs, walruses and bears, in order to transfer to his canvas those northern scenes. Church ao^ to the tropics to watch the sunshine aad the clouds, and faring bock the gorgeous tiptfl and glorious foliage that makes his pioturt ^ great. Fancy young Munger sit- ting in front of his portfolio among the soli- tudes of the West, and drawing the scene before him, with a couple of grizzly bears feeding under a tree not a hundred yards away. A friend of mine told me that when he saw Munger in his New York studio after his return, puttintr the subject on canvass, he said to him, ' VVhy, Oil, are you painting these bears from imagination merely T' 'from imagination! No,' said the artist, ' that was an actual part of my experience. I happend to be at work when those two grizzlies came loitering about just as you see them in the picture there, and 1 thought it was a splendid opportunity to work them in.' ' But weren't you afraid of them?* said my friend. ' No ; why should I be ? They were satisfying their hunger in another way, and I knew that under the circumstances, unless they were interfered with, they would not interfere with mc.' Now, ttiat is what I call the pursuit of art. under difficulties — genuine enthusiasm. Artist or actor, however, it's all the same." A REMINISCENCE OF JEM WARD, THE PUGILIST. "Right here I can give you a curious in- stance m my own experience. Several years ago I was a pupil of Jem Ward, the cele- brated pugilist, who taught me all I know about ' the noble art of self-defence.' When I went to London, and while playing Don- dreary, I found Jem in a state of great desti- tution. For an uneducated man he was ii remarkably clever one, and possessed not a little real artistic ability, which, had it been cultivated, might have made a name for him in w higher sphere. He used to paint copies of original pictures, and was especially fond of the water colours of Turner. Many of these copies were wonderfully bold and bril- liant, though they showed a lack of culture that made them comparatively valueless. As I was saying, when I returned to London, the old man hunted me up and told me his circumstances. I aided him in a small way, and eventually he secured a little public- house in Whitechapel. Watts Phillips, at my suggestion, had written for me a piece, in which I was to play the part of a burglar, and in order to get myself well up in the character, almost every nighty. after the per- formance at the Haymarket, I used to visit the ueighbou''hood frequented by this class of people. Among the haunts was the place of Jem Ward, known as the 'Little Public' After one or two appearuices there, how- ever. Ward begged me never to come again in my own brougham, and never to bring money or jewellery, .but to keep up a running account with hii^ind treat the fellows right and left to noting more expensive than beer or gin. He told me that the very cabs ABOUT HOTHKHN. 19 wing the Mene t grizzly bears hundred yitrda 1 me that whan ork studio after ) on oanvass, he 'e you painting htion merely V said the artist, my experience, len those two just as yon see id 1 thought it work them in.' themf sftid my )e? They were )ther way, and istauces, unless ley would not at is what I call ulties — genuine r, however, it's JEM WABD, T. u a ourions in- Several yeatH ard, the cele- me all I know efence.' Wheu I playing Don- B of great desti- man he was ii possessed not a ich, had it beeu a name for him to paint copies especially fond net. Many of ir bold and bril- ack of oulture vely valueless, rned to London, And told me his in a small way, a little public- btts Phillips, at for me a piece, irt of a burglar, H'eli up in the t, after the per- , I used to visit ed by this class ts was the place •Little Public' ces there, how- r to come again never to bring lep up a ruuuing he fellows right bxpensive than t the. very cabs that took me home were owned by burglars and thieves, and for several nights liu ac- companied me until we reached the Hay- nmrket Theatre, where I seourtid my own conveyance and went to my residence at Konsingtou. I was thus more ur less mixed up with many of the celebrated crackimien, robbers of various grades, swell mobunifn, aitd I suppose murderers ; but— would you be- lieve it ? — I never met with the slightest ori- ,t{inality of idea in any one of them. True, tliere was much that was coarHO, aud tlicre were characteristics of manner aud dress which did not escape my observatiou, but, so far as 1 am aware, tliat episode in my ex- perience was of no practical artistic benefit, bickeud, with his extraordinary pen, has more correctly depicted in his character of Hill Syke» the imaginary burglar, than pro- bably will ever bo^ done again, but the real- ity dou't exist. 1 was struck by the fact during my associrvtion with Uioso people, that every person 1 met at Ward's had him- self been a student of ("Charles Dickons, and copied his ideal in his own rouj^h and tum- ble way. J suppose the fellows liked the romauce of the de8oripti<>n and got them- selves up accordingly." "Hut you won't deny that Dickens him- self made this claH» a study, and that he spent nights aud days, weeks aud montha, iu pursumg hi8.iuveuti)!ations?" " That's true ; but Bo/, mixed such a vast amount of poetry with the portrayal of these rough subjects, that he robbed them of their real deformity and made his ideals a great deal better than the originals, lu other words, Lis subjects were overdrawn. Yqu might say almost the same idling about Laudseer, for while he painted his animals from life, the sympathy and poetry of the man's nature* are illustrated in eyes and general characteristics that are almost human in their expression — another instance of exaggeration. The same is true of t,d« Beards, oZNew York. , PERSONAL TRAITS. " KeferriDg to persoual idiosyncrasies con- cerning which we weife talking a few moments ago," remarked* gentleman, "I have ob- servedquitea number of traits about you that strike me as «omewhat peculiar. For in- atancei I peroeive that while you are here surrounded with beautiful birds, you evi- dently.don't h^ar them slag ; while engaged in cpuversatiov, a rap an the door makes you nervous, and you say some of your best things while walking up and down the room " That is trij^ ; and there i^re other things that might strike you as equally odd. For example, I can't endure a scent in the room. 1 love birds, animals, peta of all kinds, but take me away from a ptrfume. In my dancing days, when the girls were covered with iMV. Ue L\doijne, they simply made me sick, and time and again I have refused to dauce for this reasou. I luppose it is au hereditary trait. My sister could not boar tue sight of grapes ; I can't endure the smell of cheese ; it is something frightful to me, aud if 1 can tind an excuse fur leaviig a table where it is, I always do so. You can't account for these things any more than for the conformation of a man's skull." LMPKHHSIONS Ob' AMERICA. " \Vhj»t is your general impression of the people of America, or rather, what portion of the people do you like best ?" " For that matter," replied Mr. Sotliern, " I admire them all. The hosoitulity of the country is something wonderful. It ia free, unstinted, generous, and unselfish- -and true equally of Boston, New York, Philadelpiiiu, Baltimore, San Francisco ; in f»<;t, I can't mention any la-Ke city which 1 have visited where club life and home life are not full of social interest and warmth of feeling. One of the characteristics of the American, how- ever, which I particularly noticed, is his utter want of repnse. In hia business oCfice, in the ball room, at the dinuer party, every- where, he looks 08 if never cjuite satisfied with the present, and continually antici- pating something that has to be done on the morrow. Unlike tl-s German, he is always anxious, even after the accumulation of wealth, to acquire more. Ila never s.-^ys, 'I have enough.' There are other peculiar traits which I have observed indicative of a strong local individuality. In Boston they measure a man by his literary attainments ; in New York by his wealth ; in Philadel- phia by his religious opinions ; in Baltimore and Norfolk by his love of good living, especially oysters ; in Washington by his politics ; in' Richmond an« both my father anil mother. Like the gout, it is in the blood ; hence the extreme gengitiveness '." alight inrtuence« which is familiar to many of my intimate i friends. A colour on tti wall, a picture ; hung awry, a room tull of disorder without apparent cause— in fact, a thousand triHes : which fttrect nobody else, produce in me the most disaj^rueable of sensations." i EXPERIENCE IN NOVA SCOTIA. I "I have heard some one speak of your experience in Nova .Scotia ; what about that, Mr. Hothern ?" "Oh, nothing," was the reply, " a mere episode, such as might have occurred in the career of any actor. A number ot us went from New York— among them j;eiiial John T. Raymond, by the way— some years ago, during our summer vacation, and I agreed to pay each a small salary sufficient to cover their ordinary hotel expenses. We hired a barn, scattered some sawdust on the floor, securml a lot of benches from a neighbouring church, and erected a small platform which was lighted by candles. Wo produced some of the most sterling plays, coined money, for it had been nearly a generation since the peo- ple of the neighbourhood '^ad seen anything m the shape o1 a regular dramatic perform- ance, and had a lot of original fun aenerally. Strange to say, we were deceived by the ex- traordinary luck we had run against, and I built a n«at, cheap wooden structure suitable for theatrical purposes, and subsequently repeated some of the performances, but it I •was a failure— didu t repay the outlay, and so we abandoned it. The fact is, the audi- ence hau been ' played out,' " AN ABSENT-MINDED ACTOR. " Sothern," says John T. Raymond (bet- ter known, perhaps, as Col. Mul- berry Sellers), "is at times very absent- minded. I remember t' at we were once going to Halifax. Both of us suffered frightfully from sea-sicknesx, especially Ned. We occupied the same state-room, and Ned the lower shelf, spending about half the time on bis elbow agouizinjjly investigating that sraall tin concern which they hang on the edge of your berth. Ho wanted something, b»:t hadn't the slightest idea what to call it. " 'Describe it,' said I, from my perch on thf i. joer tier. •Uh, don't make me talk, John— I'm— so —•iok; bnt ''. r round thing — small at both flnds.' ... •• ' Is it a banAna ?' I meekly inquired. " ' Ugh -no, no,' almost howled Ned— it's got ^ice in it.' " ' An egg V said I. " 'No,' (emphatically) said he. "' An orange ?' I noggested "'No, no, don't any idiot know^ that %n^ orange hasn't a point at both ends ?' - " ' I'erhips you mean a lump of ice, and you want to suck the juice out of that.' " ' No, you infernal fool -I don't want to« do nny such ridiculous thing.' ' ' I now desperately commenced to cata- logue everything I could think of— apple?, peaches, apricots, pecan nuts, cucumb*rs, rt all of which N*d roared and raved lil o » maniac. ! " Finally, the happy thought stvMok ir«- 1 ' is it a lemon ?' said 1. ' That. « moist.' I " ' Yes,' said he. 'Why th.> I— 1 didn t I yon say lemon first? N • '"g for the i steward, let's have a box ol. them ; and do- I you shut up.'" AN ACTOR'S APOLOGY. " One night while ol Halifax," continued Mr. Raymond, ."it was arranged that 1. should recei-e a benefit. Rheumatism had afflicted me so much that for a long time 1 had been unable to act, but on the evening, in question I was comparatively all right. Thn play onnouncod was 'The Corsicau Brothers,' in which Sothern was to appear as one of the 'twins.' After thiii per- formance I was to recite a fireman's address in the presence of the fire department It turned out that Sothern, for some reason, hadn't prepared himself for the part— though. I think the fellow was shamming— and it was suggested that I should go before the curtain and make an apology for the default, pleading my illness as an excuse. . , .. , " 'VVrap yourself in a blanket, said Ned, 'put on some list shoes, whiten your face with a little chalk to make yourself look de- licate, and in a feeble voice tell the oeople how ill you've been. That will settle the' whole thing.' , ^. , j.i. folic wed Ned's suggestion to the letter, and w^dil down to the To .tlights and ^poke irv !\\t\A a specimeii ■».*■«). rlio' ..ever maue lumself up to fill a dramatic dilemma, concluding with the re- mark that if the audience would excuse me,. Mr. Sothern would play * The Little Trea- sure,' and in due time I would fulfil my pro- mise concerning the fireman's address. " The pit called out: ' All right, provided you'll give us "Whack.'" -This was the name of a song that had become aflivounte, and 1 waa giaa enough to xtrt offso ?av.ly. " Sothern played his ' Little Treasure, and the time arrived for the ' ^udress. For- getting my personal appt-arance, m. led Ned— it's le. »n' novr thkt idi V ■ ip of ice, •nd of that. ' ;lon't waut to need to cata- k of— apple.1, cucumbers, rt raveil li!''0 » [ht strnok r:e- , fl moist.' „ d— 1 didn't liig for ABOUT SOTHERN. 91 hem the aud do- OGY. IX," continued ■anged that I •umatism had a long time I n the evening, ely all right. 'The Oorsioan was to appear iter thill per' iman's address epartment. It r some reason, le part— -thougb. mming — and it uo before the for the default, juse. iket,' said Ned, liten your face ourself look de- tell the tMsople will settle tlie' ion to the letter, ghts aud ^poke i;d a specimen imself up to fill ing with the rt- mld excuse me,, rhe Little Trea- Id fulfil my pro- ) address, right, provided This was the some afuvourite, jittle Treasure,' 'iiadress.'For- tpptiarance, iu> the nU, how«v< r, of «u apoloffist, 1 rushed on the atago in a full dress ■uit, split ■ pen ooat, white necktiu, white kids, etc., w *h all the bu ancy of a twenty-vear old bn, Looking across the stage, who should I see but Ned, doubkni up between the wings and liowliag with de- light 1 The audience saw m pre clock. Most of the inha'ntants had retirevi ; but Sothern, John J yott and myself, having iust returned froi the theatre, were taking lunch The who town was shaken to the moment no one knew arthquake or some other „ » 1. Of course everybody rushed into the str. -ts, a great number only partially dressed, o ascertain if possible what was ti,e cau »e of the commotion. When our party rea hed the pavement, we saw what seemed tf> e a tall narrow, dense black cloud moving the direction of the city, and apparentl but a few hundred yards distant. " In the house adjo ling the hotel resided an old gentleman who. like others, had come out to view the sp-ictacle, but who had evidently jumped from his bed in a hurry and left everything beh tnd. There he stood in his long shirt, Jbaref. .ted, tangled haired, and as comical a looking, sight as you ever saw. " The moment Ned's t yes rested on him, he exclaimed, aoUo roc , ' Boys, let's have some fun 1 ' and then quukly turning to the gentleman, he remarked in his quick nervous way :— centre, and for th whether it was an strange phenonien. TALKS WITH, AND •"This is terrible, air, terrible, isnt it— —everybody excited— nobody cool— you re an old ciiizen-let's try and save the town ; now, you run on one side of the cloud and I'll run on the other-wake the people up, and shout "Fire!"' , - ^ .„^ " With that Ned darted off at a run, and very red in the face, evidently taking a hint, the reason of which he didn't comprehend. 1 saw at once that he was in a mental muddle, and winking in a suggestive.manner as much as to say ' look out for yourself, remarked sotta voce, ' My dear sir ; you've made a mis- take You surely dou't mean he was the old' man in his lone night shirt tne oia man lu "■= ^^..^ ".s.- at the top of his speed, with a pack of men and boys yelling like mad helter-skelter at his heels, and not a soul knowing what had | ^*" After poing a short distance Ned found ! a convenient corner where he turned and made his way back to the hotel.blowing like , a porpoise, but in high glee at the success of , hianise. He said heleft hiH friend travelling ., like a nightmare. The next mornirg we | heard that he had run for nearly a mile, j whem somobody stopped him as an escaped lunatic, and brought him home. •• Sothern had to keep out of the way dur- ing the rest of our engagement, for the old fellow was after him with a club. A GLASGOW SUPPER PARTY. "Did I ever toll you," said Mr. Sothern, one evening, "about a certaia suppW in Glasgow ? It was one of those late attairs which sometimes occur after theatre hours, and I had around me a number of excellent friends and bon vivants, umong whom was a professor of the Glasgow College, several barristers and two or three army men. This professor was a singularly clever and | honest fellow, but he had a peculiar way of ^ leaving a company, very frequently without , saying good-bye to any person present. , It was a pure matter of politeness on his part ' however, because, having duties to per- form either on his own account or that ot , others, he didn't choose to make a feature ot his departure, and so disturb the remainder , of the guests. One of the officers was Major I won't mention his name— a splendid specimen of a bluff, honest-spoken old Eng- lish gentleman. In the course of the con- versation at the table he remarked : i went to see the world-famed conjurer. Pro- fessor , to-night, and what a pity it is that he should go on the stage m such a shameful condition !' I asked him what was the matter^ ' Why,' saidllie, ' he was drunk* sir, disgracefully drunk.^ It occun-ed to me at this instant that here was a superb chance to make some fun, for I knew the major was not acquainted with our eccentric Kuest, the professor from the Glasgow • oN lege. Therefore, in the most accidental manner, crossing my knees I managed to tonch the major on the le^, and at the Wiowed i drunk r 'No. no.'hereplied in adiscon- same time softly 'sh-sh-sh around quickly, looked at me, He turned and became certed sort of way, ' not exactly dnink, but —but— rather confubed, you understand. I've seen a good many of the English jugglers, and I don't consider him as good as several whom I know.' x i u;. " At this juncture the professor took his hat and walked out, which we, who knew him, recognized as his quiet way of absent- ing himself without going through the formula of breaking up a social party, i ou see he had his lecture to prepare for the next ay, and we of the club being aware of that fact, paid no attention to his exit. When i the professor was fairly out of hearing i observed to the major, ' This ia a nice mess you've made.' ' What is it ? What did I say?' he inquired anxiously. 'Why, saidl, I ' didn't you see the indignant way in which 1 he got up and left the room Y That s the j son-in-law of the conjuror — married his daughter only two days ago, and of course 1 he feels naturally indignant at the remark which he heard you make.' ' D-— n It, ■ said the major, 'why didn't you tell me ? I You kicked me and you confused me. I 'Nonsense,' I replied, ' 1 looked at you and winked at you, and shoo-ed at you, and tried to stop you as fen intelligent bewg capable of taking a hint.' I suggested that he shoud write the professor a nice letter, inasmuch as he was a man of great personal position, and explain the affair m a semi- apologetic way, stating that he was a tntle nnder the influence of wine, ete. Thereupon the major went to my desk, and at my dic- tation scribbled off a note and properly addressed it. 'Now,' I said ' I will send this by my own servant, so that there snail be no miscarriage.' Of course I didn t send it at all ; but the next day I wrote a letter and had it copied and signed in the pro- '■ fessor's name, which was one of the most , grossly insulting in its character that I ; could conceive of. It read something like 1 this : ' I Simply because you'happen to be a 1 cavalry officer and I a quiet univemty student, you think you can mSult me by ! assailing the purity of my father-in-law. • As you yourself confess, you are only a i dmnUfin cad,' etc.. etc. The major came the I next morning fearfully out of sorts, and ' showed me the letter. ' What do you thin i of that?" said he, excitedly. ' D-- — n the professor of humanity ! He calls me a drunken cad.' 1 replied : 'Oh. that s only takine a hint, jomprenend. I nental muddle, lanner as much 3lf," remarked ve made a mis- mean he was d in a diacon- tly drunk, but u understand, nglish jugglers, ood as several feasor took his we, who knew way of absent - through the al party. You lare for the next g aware of that is exit. When it of hearing 1 is is a nice mess ■> What did I 'Why,' said I, it way in which m V That's the r — married his ), and of course t at the remark ,' 'D n it,' 't you tell me ? I confused me.' oked at you and -ed at you, and intelligent being I suggested that or a nice letter, of great peraonal affair in a aemi- it he was a tritle , etc. Thereupon , and at my die- >te and properly wd, ' I will send » that there shall irse I didn't send Y I wrote a letter igned in the pro- one of the most character that I X something like u'happen to be a quiet univeiiity 3an insult me by my father-in-law. , you are only a he major came the out of sorts, aiui Vhat do you thin\ (lly. • D n the He calls me a ; 'Oh. that's only jABOUT SOTHErN. 23 hifl classical method of expression. ' ' By Jove ! I don't care for that. I'll go and kick him out of lus lecture room. ' I soothed the major as well as I knew how, and as soon aa he was gone, sat down and wrote a note to the other professor — the conjuror — in the name of Major So-and-so, to the effect that he had received a letter from his son-in-law saying that he would cowhide him at the first opportunity. That brought another communication still more mixing up matters. Of course you uuderbtand that I wrote all these myself, consequently held the trump cards in my own hand. " These letters went backwards and for- wards for several days. Finally,' I sent one from the professor challenging the major, and at the same time caused a number of telegraphic messages to he transmitted from different parts of Scotland from men with whom I knew he was intimate, expressive of their astonishment that a gentleman so well known for his high courage should have been guilty of conduct so utterly unbe- coming his position. Now, the major was a man of warm temperament, who, in bygone days, in India and elsewhere, had been fighting duels about once a week, although such a piece of absurdity, at the present hour, would have resulted in his being cachiered. As a consequence, he was thrown into a state of extreme excitement and per- plexity. Just about this time I started for London, leaving behind me a batch of letters and telegrams, to be sent to the major on the following day. They were of the most alighting and insulting description. Render- ed utterly desperate by these, he followed me to London, sending me a telegram in advance, saying that he desired to act on my advice '1 the premises, and would meet me at a ' ' in hour for consultation. I then arrai ^od it to have tlie professor from Glas- gow dine with me the very day the major waft to call. As the latter walked into the room be was completely staggered when the professor advanced and shook him by the hand in the most cordial and amicable man- ner. Of course the major couldn't resist what he now regarded as an evidence of good will, and commenced to make explanations. The professor listened in astonishment, and declared his entire innocence of the whole affair. Not having the ghost of an idea what it was all about, he thought the major was drunk ; and as I kept making signs to him, he treated him accordingly. The whole thing was so ludicrous that at last we all of HH Kiirnt intn sl hparf.v rTr\nA -tintt^ft^A i*%t\r»U which waa redoubled when I told the whole ■tory. I ought to say, that I never would have indulged in this little joke had it not been that the major, some weeks previously, had got me into comparative trouble by a practical joke of his own, of which I was the victim. My revenge waa natural and most complete." AN AMATEUR VENTRILOQUIST. " I think that one of the most reckless affairs with which I have ever had to do," continued the narrator, "occurred at the house of a friend of mine who was himself fond of a joke, and had at home abundant of opportunity for the making of one. A regiment had just arrived from the Crimean war, and was forwarded to Glasgow to be quartered there. My friend asked the officers to dine immediately after their arrival, although he was a stranger to them all except by reputation. He invited me to go with him, remarking : 'Now, Ned, let us have some fun,' and wo at once concoctcfl a plan. I knew his residence very well, and could do anything I pleased in it. With his leave I sent tor a stonemason and told him to. ascertain where the flue from the fire grate made its exit on the roof, as I wanted him that night during the dinner to call down the chimney in answer to any question I might ask. My friend, the host, meanwhile, was to introdnce me to his guests as a celebrated American ventrilo- quist who was about to appear in London, and was acknowledged to be the most ex- traordinary artist of the kind in the world. While the meal was going on, Colonel Harris, a very aristocratic old man, though rather pompous, gradually began to throw out suggestions and to lead conversation in the direction of ventriloquial subjects. I, of course, pretended to be very bashful,,and to avoid any alius fon to the theme. After much solicitation, however, I consented to speak, as he said, only^two or three words. Mark you, I had timed the experiment so that it should be exactly eight o'clock, or within a few minutes of it, when I knew that my mason would be keeping his engagement at the other end of the chim- ney. Going to the tire-place I shouted at the top of my voice, for it was a deuced long way up, ' Are you there ?' but there was no response. I came to the con- clusion that as by this time it was raining very hard, the stonemason had got sick of the whole business and left the roof. Ima- gine my surprise when in eight or ten sec-- onda afterwards, just as I had turned and waa going to tell the colonel that my failure waa due entirely to an ulcerated sore throat, - 1 ' "e • ' flue ; ' I don't hoar a d d word ! ' The colonel, officers, and all gneats looked per- fectly staggered. I immediately took ad- vantage of the situation and remarked : 34 TALKS WITH, AND • Thare, you lea how badly I did ! You no- tio« what a guttural tone there was in my voice ; ' but they all crowded around me and said it was the most extraordinary thing they ever heard in their lives, and begged me to repeat the experiment. I had pre- viously made the arrangement with the ma- sou that when I said ' good-bye ' three times, he would understand that I would require him no more. I therefore shouted out ' good-bye ' three times, and getting no response concli: led that he had gone, and thouifht no more about the matter. Ab'^ut an hour after this, the colonel was lean- ing against the mantel-piece, smoking a cigar, when he turned to me — I was on the opposite side of the room — and said : ' Col. Slayter ' (by which name I had been intro- duced to the company), ' I have no hesita- tion in saying that you are the most extraor- dinary ventriloquist alive. Now, in my own little way 1 occasionally try to amuse my children in the same manner, but it is really absurd, after the wonderful effect you have produced, to give you an illustration here ; still I will try. For instance, when at home I sometimes put my head 'up the chimney and shout : 'Are you coming down ? ' and the old gentleman accompanieil the action to the words. Judge of our utter amazement when a yell was heard in the chimney, ' Oh, go to the devil ! I have had enough of this.' It so happened that I was chatting with a number of the officers at the moment, and the colonel almost reeled up against the table in his astonishment at such an unexpected reply. Everybody looked at him as if for an explanation. Taking in the stuation quickly and carelessly stepping for- ward, I said : ' There, gentlemen, that is my last efifort. I am suffering so much from bronchial affection that you must really ex- cuse me from any further exhibition.' One and all of them gathered around me and again wrung my hands, expressing their amazement at the high art I had evinced, and promised me a magnificent reception whenever I should appear in public. It was as much as my friend and I could do to pre- serve serious faces. The joke was too good to keep long, and in a little while afterwards in the course of conversation, the host said, ' By the way, So- thern, do you remember so and so ? ' ' What ! ' said all che officers, looking up, ' Sothern ! I thought this was CoL Slayter. ' 'Oh, no,' rapiicd my friend, "that's Lord Dundreary.^ The result was a joke out and half a dozen rounds of champagne in. That was my first aud last experience as a ventril- oquist, A JOKE ON HIS MANAGEB. "Two or three weeks ago, Mr. Henry E. Ab- bey,mymanaf{er,and Ihada small wagerabout the nightly increase and deoline of our au- diences. He finally owed me a couple of silk hats, and wrote an order on one of the principal merchants here, askinc; that thejr shouhf be sent to him at the box office of the Park Theatr«i. In his loose way of writing, he had left a blank space before the number 2, and when his back was turned, I quickly put a ' 6 ' in the gap. The letter was foldeil and mailed, and in the course of time, perplexed as the hatter must have been by this extraordinary requirement on the part of Mr. Abbey, the sixty-two hats were sent down to the theatre, together with a bill, and a letter expresning his as- tonishment at such a large order. Mr. Ab- bey was in an adjoining apartment when the hats arrived, and you can conceive his amazement on finding that he literally could not get into the box office, ns there was only just room enough for trea^arwr Tillotson and the sixty-two hat boxea. i ; e boy who ac- companied the hats also brought Mr. Ab- bey's order, which v/as written in pencil. I was on the look-out, and before the lad en- tered the vestibule, I had taken the letter from him and quietly rubbed out my origi- nal 6, 80 that Abbey received and read the order just as he had written it ; that is to say, two hats. He showed it to me, and I read it aloud as innocently as I am now talk- ing to you. "Said he: 'What the devil does Mr. mean by sending me sixty-two hats, when this order only calls for two ! ' " I replied : ' Poor fellow I He must be at it again. ' " ' What do you mean ? ' said he. " ' Oh, it only shows what drink will do, if a man persists in it. "Vou had better send the hats back, with some gentle advice con- cerning his habits, and pay your bill. ' "They were thereupon immediately re- turned to the store, with a sharp letter from the manager. A correspondence followed, which, I think, was not definitely explained to the satisfaction of either party until I told the story on Abbey, the other night, at Delmonico's. AUTOGRAPH HUNTERS. " During my stay in London I used to receive hundreds of communications weekly, not only from begging-letter writers, but from people who made it a business to col- iCCC auiograpua luF i-iic pUrpvcrp •••- — r'iin.g them. They were a terrible nuisance to me, and I finally abandoned all attempts to re- ply to them. In lieu of a written response, however, I had some hundreds of peculiar en- MANAGER. Mr. Henry E. Ab- i small waser about decline of our au- d me a couple of der on one of the asking that they t the box office of his loose way of ik space before the )ack was turned, I e gap. The letter d iu the course of iiatter must have y requirement on the sixty-two hats theatre, together expressing his as- ! order. Mr. Ab- partment when the can conceive hia t he literally could as there was only I aver Tillotson and i J e boy who ac- brought Mr. Ab- ■itcen m pencil. I ijefore the lad en- I taken the letter bbed out my origi- eived and read the itten it ; that is to ed it to me, and I yr as I am now talk- e devil does Mr. »e sixty-two hats, for two ! ' iw ! He must be at ? * said he. rhat drink will do, ou had better send gentle advice con- ly your bill. ' n immediately re- a sharp letter from nondence followed, lefinitely explained ther party until I the other night, at iUNTERS. London I used to lunications weekly, •letter writers, but a business to col- ^U I puce vl sriiitig ible uuisance to me, all attempts to re- a written response, Ireds of peculiar en- ABOUT 80THERN. 20 velopea made with the following head line printed in scarlet ink on the back : ' Curious specimens of contagious bedding;,' and in those envelopes my valet was instructed to place little pieces of cotton batting and to address them to people who were boring me with their requests. From what 1 after- wards heard, it is impossible to convey an idea of the annoyance which this vague sort of reply occasioned. The clerks in the post- office could not refuse to receive them, nor could the postman refuse to deliver them. The servants of the houses at which they were delivered were obliged to take them in, and the [teople to whom they were address- ed were in the majority of in- stances curious enough to desire to see the contents. Inside the en- velope was written, ' with Mr. Sothern's compliments.' I received a good many in- sulting letters in response to this style of dealing with the begging public, but mv ob- ject was effected in largely diminishii-g a very obnoxious correspondence." THE ART OF FLYING. ^'One of the odds„. experiences of my New York life," said Mr. Sothern, "was an attempt to drag me into an absurd joke, of which I pledge you — not exactly my honour, but my purse — that I have but a very re- mote knowledge. Florence and I were one day talking about the folly of people acting like a Hock of sheep who follow the example of their leader. See a man look upward and he will gather a crowd. Let him hunt for a suppostitious something, and scores of peo- fle will assemble to aid him in his| search, iorence concluded, by way of illustration, to try his hand in a higher sphere, and so selected as the Held of his exploits Trinity Church, which, as you are aware, has one of the tallest spires in the city. My first intima- tion that he had laid his plans, was the pub- lication of the following circular : " ' THE ART OF FLYING, " I Professor Cantell A, Biglie, of the sci- entific school of Wisconsin University, has the honour to inform the public that lie will give an exhibition of his completed appara- tus, for navigating the air, on Wednesday afternoon, the 9th inst.. at three o'clock precisely, in .the vicinity of Trinity "Church. The .professor proposes to fly from house to house across Broad way, at angles, then from Trinity to Bowling Green and return ; and will ascend as high as the summit of — -— ^. ».;Cw^.w. ........... v', »...** .....i.n.t* ctirvv vicinity. An opportunity will be given after the exhibition to examine the apparatus. The people are respectfully invited. '* Sucli., in brief, was the bait offered, and it was greedily swallowed. At half-past twelve on the day in question, a little knot of people had gathered close to the church- yard railings ; at one o'clock the pavement was in a measure obstructed. At two the tide overflowed intoitlie street, and by three p m. , the advertiseu hour of exhibition, the whole breadtii of Broadway was occupied by a densely packed and struggling mass of hu- manity, whilst, in addition to the rush of the main artery, both Wall and Pine streets con- tributed steady contingents to the already swollen crowd. As the church clock clanged forth the hour, anxious eyes were turned up. wards, but as yet the professor ' gave no sign ; ' the quarter next sounded, and still the old steeple bore every aspect of being untenanted, whilst amongst the keener spirits in the crowd a horrible suspicion com- menced to dawn, that the whole thing was a 'Bell.' The suspicion speedily became a certainty, and with wild yells the ' gold ' rushed into the churchyard and endeavoured to force their way into the steeple. It was a queer sieht. Respectable family men, Wall street brokers and quiet individuals, who would not for the life of them have been mixed up in a ' mob riot,' were unwillingly carried into the churchyard, in spite of their frantic gesticulations, many of them hatless. The sexton, however, was equal to the occa- sion, and the solid door resisted all attacks, although again and again renewed. Wearied at length by fruitless effort, the mob now slowly dispersed, the sacred edifice was left in its normal state of quietude, and then from the safe shelter afforded by the stately tomb erected to the memory of Captain Law- rence, the sailor huro, three figures stealthi- ly crept, bearing a wondrous resemblance to Sothern, Florence, and John McCuUough. In the first instance," proceeded Sothern, as he recited the story, ' ' the fancied resem- blance was a most unfortunate one, for it at- tracted the argus eye of a member of the re- portorial staff of the New York Herald, who at once proceeded to hx the authorship of this outrageous practical joke upon your humble servant. In the next issue of the paper, to my amazement, the following letter appeared, purporting to be signed by my- self : ' Gramkrcy Park Hotel, Thursday, Noon. ' To the Editor / the Herald. " Will you kindly state that I am not re- sponsible for the ' Flying Hoax ' at Trinity Church ou Wednesday last ? Believing, with Washington, that it is wrong to tell a story, I will simply state that Florence did it. ' Yours, etc., ' E. A, Sothern.' " This forged disclaimer at once seta re- 26 TALKS WITH, ANT) porter ou Florence's trftck, and on his arri- val at the wretched Billy's 'digging,' something like the following conversation ensued : " Ukpohtkr. — 1 have a letter here from Sothern, charging you w^th the authorship of the ' Trinity Church sell.' "BiLLV. — 1 give you my word of honour, sir, that 1 know nothing of the matter, it is another atrocious joke of Sothcrn's, I say, Palmer (again examing the letter), that looks very like my handwriting, doesn't it t 8o- thern has imitated it, that'n evident (with resignation). What a ruiHan ho is ! Why, he gave mo his word that he would not perpe- trate any more practical jokes, and now, here he is, trying to got mi! into another scrape. Blood viu»l yet be shed I "Repouter. — Do you roally think Buggins had anything to do with it ? " Billy, (hopelessly). — WoU, ho mai/ have helped ; but it was only the other day Sothern sent three tons of coal to my house in Park avenue, and my present tenant was in a terrible rage at having the coal deliver- ed, without his orders, and lying all day on the sidewalk. " Rkportkk. — Why don't you pay Sothern back in his own coin ? ' "Billy. — 1 wish 1 could. (Querien with anxiety) Are you going round to Wallack's to see Sothern ? *• Rkporter. —Yes. "Billy. — Watch him carefully ; he will probably use the utmost efforts to conueal his guilt. " I had just put the finishing touches to my muke-up as Lord Dundreary, when I rushed against the man of letters, who ap- peared breathlessly anxious, and slightly nervous. In order to put him at his ease, I accosted him with, ' Well, old fellow, 1 am glad to meet you ; 1 found your card at my hotel the other day, and am sorry I wasn't in. What's afloat, now ?' " Rkportkr. — I have a letter here, Mr. Sothern, signed with your name and address- ed to the editor of the Herald, in which you charge Mr. William J. Florence with having originated the ' Plying Hoax ' at Trinity Church (exhibiting letter). "Sothern.— Oh, my dear sir, this is simply atrocious. I never saw the letter, much less wrote it. You know I am as fond of a lark as anybody, when there is any lark going, but this thing is evidently the work of that infernal scdundrel, Florence. "Keporter. — I have just seen Mr. Flor- ence, and he intimated to me that Iw believ- ed you to be a ruffian of the deepest dye, and capable of committing any crime. He states that you sent fourteen tons ot coal to his house ou Park avenue, for the purpose of embroiling him in a vendetta with his ten- ant. " Here I could not resist laughing immo- derately at the absurdity of the whole thing, but on my recovery I dismipsed the reporter somewhat as follows : ' I acknow- ledge the coal transaction, but I assert that Floronco must have imposed on you with a base imitation of ray handwriting. A man muM draw a line somewhere, and / draw it at forgery ; so I'll have Florence arrested in the morning. ' . " But I didn't get him arrested alter all," said the genial host, " nor have I succeeded in convincing quite a number of intimates that I was not the originator of the ' Trinity (ihurchhoax.' Still, I wcwn'^. " SOTHERN AND THE COUNT JOANNES. Among the curious incidents in Sothern's career during his recent visit to Now York (1877-78.), was a suit brought by George, the Count Joannes, formerly an actor, but in late years an eccentric lawyer, to stop the performance of the ' ' Crushed Tragedian, " on the ground that the " make-up " malign- ed the Count and generally burlesqued his identity. A reporter of one of the papers, who called on Sothern for information con- cerning the case, writes as follows : " He had just driven up and was alighting from his coupe when .i reporter reached the stage door of the Park I'heatre. As the 'Crush- ed Tragedian ' was to come on very shortly, he invited the caller to go into his dressing- room and talk with him while he was mak- ing up. Ho had not heard of the Count's pro- ceeding, and was inclined to discredit the story. ' It's some joke,' said he, unbutton- ing his shirt collar and reading a slip of newspaper which had been handed him, con- taining an application of the Count to the court. ' Why, I never saw the man but onca in my life, and that was four months after I began the "Crushed Tragedian." Doeshereal- ]y look liko the Crushed? Well, God help him ! Been thirty years making areputation— thbt's not an unusual time ; have known it to take longer — and I am taking it from him I Come, now, that's too mnch ! Seriously, is this thing true ? Well, if it is, and if I have to go down to that court to show cause, by George, I pity the man that brings me. I won't let him rest while his worried life clings to him ! I have a dozen such suics on hand now, ond one more won't trouble me much. He shall get telegrams^ and postals in)in tiiia time on for ever. JJO about ii? Why, I shall appear, of course. But I don't know the first thing about it, except what you have just told me. Now, my hair — (to^ his servant, who handed it)— has the Count tto with his ten- laughing iniino- y of the whole - I dianii^Her of the ' Trinity Hfi't." UNT JOANNES. lents in Sothern's isit to Now York ight by George, irly an actor, but kwyer, to stop the shed Tragedian," iiake>ui) " malign- ly burlesqued his le of the papers, information oon- foUnwa : and was alighting )orter reached the re. As the 'Crush- B on very shortly, into his dressing- 'hile he was mak* )f the Count's pro- i to discredit the aid he, unbutton- reading a slip of handed him, con- the Count to the the man but once lur months after I ian." Does he real- Well, God help ling a reputation— e ; have known it tkingit from him/ uh ! Seriously, is it is, and if I have to show cause, by hat brings me. I 3 his worried life ozen such suicson won't trouble me (rams and postals jr. uo about ili ? iirse. But I don't it it, except what fow, my hair — (to b) —has the Count ABOUT aOTHKRN. 27 Joannes really hair like this T 1 cannot l>e- lieve it — it is some monHtrous sell.' •* Mr. Hothern had put on the long, solemn hair of tlio 'Crushed Tragedian/and his oyes were circled about with rings of tearful rod, v/hen there was a knock at the door and another reporter was announced— from the Tribune. Mr. Sothern thre\r a look of dark suspicion into his eye and sadly shook haiidH vithhim." " I suppose you hare heard, Mr. .Sothern," said the new comer," that the Count .FoannHS hasobtaincd an order from the(/'onrtforyouto show cause why you should not he enjoined from playing the 'Crushed Tragedian?' " "Is this a joke, sir?" said the actor, stiflly, very. " Oh, no, indeed I he really has. Haven't you heard of it ?" " I think there is a conspiracy, and now it strikes me that yon are in it. But go on, sir. I never played a practical joke in my lite, but -but go on, sir." " Really, Mr. Sothnrn, this is a seriouH matter. The Count has actually applied" — " Do you mean to tell me on your honour that you are not attempting to joke with me?" "No, indeed, I " "Then I will say that when I go down to the court I shall enter into a disquisition on the Trojan war and discuss Sanscrit at length. I am not to be triHed with." "Do you anticipate any personal trouble between the l^ouiit and yourself?" "I do," respoiii'.pd the actor, pulling off his trousers. "In case of a duel, whom would the chal- lenge naturally come from ?" "Oh, from him. He is my senior, and I would not think of cutting in in such a mat- ter." " But he is titled, and, so far as I know, a similar honour has never been conferred upon you by any German potent&te. " " Ouly because I was too busy to go for it. It's waiting for me; and I can have it any time I please." "How would yon tight the Count if he should call on you?" " I prefer the first of April, but I haven't considered the matter fully; still, I think with cannon ! Yes, on reflection I am sure I shall insist upon tLjse new Paris can- iK n that discharge 170 sho*B a minute. He shall sit upon one of these engines and I upon the other, when they shall be discharg- ed ; and straiglrttway there shall be nO rem- nant of either tlio Count or Sothern ! " " I am sure you are joking, sir. I wish we were not obliged to confine ourselves strictly to facts, for I think there is a good deal of humour in this thing." "Oh, come now," returned the actor, "don't say that about facts. You will make ine laugh, and 1 shall crack the paint " "Well, what shall T say, Mrj Hot dm?" "Hay that wi> shall fight with cannon, with improved (iatling guns, and that I don't know anything a1>out the matter what- ever. Hay that I don't know.anything alM>nt the Count JoaiincH, and that I will shoot him to deith with a Catling gun. Hay that if I ever see him again 1 will ^et myself up to look just like him, if he looks any worse than I do now. Say that the Crushed Tra- gedian, onee trodden on, newr sleeps. Hay — oh, say what you d n please ! ! I " CALIFORNIA nO.SI'ITALITY.-SO- THKRN IN JAIL. " It was one of those delightful practical jokes," said the narrator, "which occur in the lives of clever fellows, and are remember- ed among the happy events of existence. "The sun of the Pacific slope was just set- ting in a sea of gold, twilight was coming down the mountains on the East. Poor Edwin Adams and Florence sat in one of the parlours of the Palace Hotel in San Francisco. They were anxiously looking for Hothem, and never did twf) boys await the arrival of an elder brother, after a long absence from home, with more eager anticipation. " ' What time is it?' said Florence. * I wonder when the train will be here ? Wait a moment ; I'll inquire at the otiice.' " Billy soon returned with the news that the train was coming, and would be at the depot at 10 o'clock with their friend on board. " 'That's glorious ! ' CA?iaime1 Ned. 'I wonder how the dear boy is ; I don't think I ever had such pleasurable anticipations.' " 'Why, of course he is well,' said Billy, 'he is always well. Now, Ned, hwk out for fun. I'm going to square up my joke ac- count with Dundreary. It's the very time- to do it, and I want you to help me.' " 'Good,' said Ned, ' I am with you, my boy; go ahead.' " 'The practical jokes that he has played upon me,' said Billy, 'have been original and very funny. The ingenuity of the scamp has been something wonderful : for a good square, original practical joke no man that ever I heard of can touch Ned Sothern ; hia inventive powers, are marvellous. I'll tell you, while we are waiting, one or two he played upon me. " ' He once inserted an advertisement in the New ^ork Herald, the substance of which was that I wanted ten dogs, two- each, Newfoundland, bl'ack-and-tan, spitz, setters and a poodle, and that the dog-men should apply at seven o'clock in the morning. 28 TALKE WITH, AND. uutil three in the Afternoon, for three days, at my residence. " 'The next morning by eight o'clocic the street in front of my house was crowded v'ithmen and dogs fighting their way around the front stoop. Aroused by the infernal noise I got out of my bed, went to th3 win- dow, and as I drew back the curtain and cjc- posed my head and shoulders, every fellow m that motley crowd held up his dog aud yelled, ' Here he is, Mr. Florence; this is the one you want." I don't know what «l8e they said, for the howling and barking of the dogs and the laughter of the crowd drowned all other sounds. I was at a loss to account for this strange siffht. Mrs. F. came to the window, took in the scene, and with that nice perception of things which never deserts the sex in an emergency, said : ' Why, I see what this is ; it cannot be any- thing but one of Ned Sothern's jokes, my -dear,' aud with that she exclaimed, ' Look, look, it's he ! There is 8othern himself !' " ' I had retreated a short distance from the window, but when Mrs. F. said that the great joker was present in person I went iorward, and sure enough there he was, looking at a beautiful skye terrier, which he afterwards purchased. He turned to my window, aud, with that characteristic way he has of adjusting his eye-glass, he put it on and looked straight at me as if he had never seen me, and then innocently asked a boy, who was holding an ugly cur, ' who lives in that house ? What queer person is that who is shaking his fist at us ?' ' Why, Florence, the actor, lives there, and he advertised for dogs, and that's what's the matter,' answered the urchin. " ' Going into the dog business, I suppose ?' said Sotheru. ' Yes,' said the boy, ' I reckon he is — he is always doing something for us fellows.' Dundreary jogged along among the crowd, and he said afterwards it was one of his most successful jokes. " ' At another time, he sent three or four undertakers to my house in the middle of the night. The last trick he played upon me was very good. I had invited a number •of fellows to dine with me, and we were ex- pecting a good time. When we were pretty well through the dessert, one of the gentle- men went outside into the hall and in a few minutes returned, saying that there was an old man at the door who wished to see Mr. Florence, and that he would not go away until I came to the door. After a little while I went out and found the antediluvian on the stoop outside. lie seemed to be very infirm and quite lame. I invited him inside, aud he told me tiiat he was about^o return to the o' 1 country ; that he had lost all of his tvaily in America, and was going home to the land of his fathers to die. He had a few things left from the general wreck of his household which he wished to sell, and there- upon took some mantle ornaments and other articles of vertu from his pocket, saying they were the last things he had saved, and if 1 could spare him ^00 for them he could buy a steerage ticket that would carry him home. "' I saw that the articles were valuable, told him to keep them, and 'landed him $300. Thinking I had done a pretty good thins, I returned to the dining-room and gave orders to the servant to let the beggar out The servant returned, saying that the old fellow had already gone, and so indeed he had. " ' Some of the company suggested that he mitjlit have been a fraud. ' Just look around and see if he has not taken a few things. ' I then bethought me that the articles he show- ed looked like some of my own. I rushed into the parlour to find that the old thief had takeu my own things. The alarm was given and the police sent for. " ' In a few moments two ofHcers appeared and began a search. One of the servants re- ported that he saw the old man goina up- stairs. The othcers rushed up, and after a look through the rooms on the two upper stories, discovered him looking over some photographs. The oliicers, of course, seized him. He resisted, and gave it to them pretty roughly with his tongue. ' Bring the old ruffian down,' I cried; 'bring him into the dining-room.' "'Until then I had not thoroughly scanned the aged villain's countenance. Imagine my amazement when I looked into that eye which no power on earth could dis- guise or change, to find that the man I had hold of was Sothern himself. It was a dead sell on us all. " 'Sothern had prepared himself fully for this joke, as he always does on important occasions. He brought with him a wig, beard, pair of slippers, and a long coat, and a villainous old hat. " ' While we wera pretty well along ' " 'Yes, I see,' said Mr. Adams, 'you were pretty well along. Of course you were. ' '"I mean,' said Billy, ' that we were well along in the evening. ' '"\es, certainly you were; if you were not you should have been,' replied Aciams. "'Well, as I was about to say, Sothern slipped out of the dining-room and in a few moments was transformed into an ancient Hibernian on my door step. This was voted by the whole compftijy as nr.e of the most successful practical jokes ever practised, and so it was, by a " large majority." ' "'The time approaches,' said Adams, looking up at the great clock. 3 die. He had a few ker»l wreok of hit d to sell, and there- rnatnents and other pocket, sayiuK they ad saved, and if 1 them he could buy lid carry him home, cles were valuabie, i jandcd him $300. 'etty good thingi I )m and gave orders beggar out The that the old fellow indeed he had. y suggested that he ' Just look around in a few things.' I te articles he show- my own. I rushed at the old thief had he alarm was given vo officers appeared of the servants re- old man going up- ed up, and after a on the two upper looking over some 's, of course, seized gave it to them ongue. ' Bring the 1; ' bring him into 1 not thoroughly tin's countenance, ivhen I looked into on earth could dis- that the man I had elf. It was a dead }d himself fully for does oil important with him a wig, J a long coat, and a ty well along ' Adams, ' you were irse you were. ' ' that wo were well were ; if you were , ' replied Adams, ut to say, Sothern -room and in a few id into an ancient p. This was voted IS one nf the most ever practised, and .jority. " ' les,' said Adams, )ck. ABOUT SOTHERN. S» " • Yes,' answered Florence ; ' now I'll tell you my plan for a big thing, Ned. " ' VVe will take a carnage and go to the depot, and as soon as the train arrives we will scoop the old bojr up and drive to the city prison and slai> him in jail. I have ar- ranged to commit him, let the jailer into the secret, and upon my holding him harmless he will pay the stern keeper. ' " ' We won't keep him in bnt a few minutes though,' responded the tender- hearted Ned; 'only a few minutes, Billy?" " Leave that to me,' said Florence. ' You know I would not harm a hair of his head. Leave it all to me. Sothem will enjoy it when it is over as much as we do ; he is one of the kind who enjoys a good joke on him- self as well as if it were played on anyone else — more so. ' " The train was on time, and as soon as it stopped, one of the first passengers who got off the platform was the veritable Sothern. Billy and his friend were with him in a moment. The greetings were heartfelt and sincere. " ' Now, my old boy, come i\long ; we have the best of rooms for you, and as this is your first visit, we will see (looking askance at Ned) that you are firmly settled.' " 'The carnage soon had them in front of the city prison. It seemed but a moment since they left the depot, so interested had Mr. Sothern been in tne conversation of his friends. The three alighted, and the two conspirators rushed Mr. Sothern up to the jail register. Ned put the pen in his hand while Billy took his satchel, and after the name wm down they hurried him off to his 'room.' A turnkey led the way down the corridor, and Sothern was ushered into a side apartment. He said he thought it was a very plain-looking place, and was amazed when he saw bars at the window, but ob- served this must be their way out here. He took a seat at the table, and being left alone, overheard the following conversation : •"We have him at last. Jack.' " ' Have him ! Who do you mean?' •• • Why, that awful murderer and robber of Yellow Creek Flats,' replied the first speaker. ' We are going to handcuff him, and put htm in the dungeon. ' "•Well, he ought to be there; he is the worst criminal in California, and he will cer- tainly be hung in a short time.' "Sothem now saw through it all, and began to kick the door, and asked that it be opened. There was a slide in the panel, and this was nuahiwl aaiila Kw ntirn nt »l,. 4i.,-- keys, who gruffly inquired, 'Now, what do you want, you infernal robber and hichway- maD?' "•WeU, liir,' Kiid Sothem, 'I want yon 'too thin," said the turnkey. Do you suppose you could that kind of chaff? I guess first to open this door, and then I will tell you what I v/aut,' "The only reply to this was: 'We are coming in directly, to put a pair of bracelets on you. ' '"Now, see here, my good friend, this i» all a joke, and, as it has been carried far enough, you had better open the doors.' "'That's "too thin" af>i>) tho ♦,...., "too thin." fool us with not.' "In the meantime, Billy and Ned had gone off to spread the news that Mr. Sothem had been arrested and sent to the city prison. A largo delegation of friends at once left the hotel, and proceeded to the jail. Inquiring' or the jailer, he promptly appeared, and fe ing asked for the commitment, he produced b paper with a great many grand flourishes, II and a considtrable number of hieroglyphics upon it, and said : 'This is what was handed to me.' Upon a close examination, it was found to be signed by Guillemano Florenza and Edouard Adam, detectives. A well- known magistrate, at this juncture, stepped forward, and Mr. Sothern being brought before him, was at once released as a victim of kidnappers. Dundreary admitted that he had been handsomely inveigled and sold by his two friends. Billy and Ned had mean- while ordered the finest supper at the hotei ever known on the Pacific Coast, and a conn- iSany of forty gentlemen sat down to enjoy, with the guest of the evening, an occasion which, for mirth and genuine jollity, has rarely had its equal in that or any other part of the country. " ' And this, ' says Florence, ' was the way I got even with "the boy." He won't for- get it soon, either. ' REMINISCENCES OF A MANAGER. One evening, at a dinner-party, Mr„ Sothern being temporarily called away from his guests, Mr. Stephen Fiske, the manager of the Fifth Avenue Theatre in New York,, related a number of reminiscences which, in- asmuch as they illustrate the character of the actor, and traits of which he himself would not speak, are worthy of reproduction here. Speaking of the first appearance of Mr. Sothern as Lord Dundreary, in Ix>ndon, lie •aid " It was about the year 1861. Mr. Buck- stone, the manager of the Haymarkct Theatre, was in want of an attraction ; and taking a liking to 'the young Ameritfan sctor,' as he was called, agreed to prodace^ •OurAmeric n Cousin,' although he did sa with not a little fear and trembling. All the- actor* and actresses connected with the theatre predicted its failure. Buck«ione 30 TALKS WITH, AND him»elf consented to pUy tac part of Asa Trenchard, to help the performance along, but nobody except Sothern had any con- fidence in its Buoeess. During the rehearsal of the play, Mrs. , one of the old Hay market stock company, and a representative of all the gossip of the green-room, came upon the stage while Sothern was running over his famous letter scene. He turned, and said, 'My dear miulam, don't come on here till you get your cue. In fact, on the night of the performance, you will have twenty minutes to wait during this scene. ' "'Why,' said the lady, satirically, 'do you expect so much applause ? ' '•'Yes,' replied Hothein, 'I know how long this scene always plays. ' " ' Ah !' answered the madam, 'but sup- pose the audience should not take your view of the matter. ' " ' In that case,' said Sothern, ' you won t have to bother yourself, for I and the piece will have been condemned a good hour before your services will be re en interested not only in his conversation, which is more serious then than at any other time, but in the novel and artistic means whereby his wonderful stage transformations are effected. Nobody could look more unlike the Sothern of real life than 'The Crushed Tragedian.' There could be no greater con- trast to 'The Crushed Tragedian' than Brother Sam. and nobody could possibly identify his David Oarrick with his Lord Dundreary. I do not speak so much of dif- ference in costume, in the colour of his wigs, or the shade of his paint, as of the curious change in facial expression -in what the Irish call ' the look of his eye ;' in the tones of hia voice, and in the entire character and deportment of the man. In Garrick, his enunciation is as clear as a bell; in Dun- dreary, he lisps, stammers and drawls; in the Crushed Tragedian, he growls ; and as Sydney Spoonbill, he is the simple-hearted, out- spoken gentleman. In fact, he seeins to have a different voice for each part which he un- dertakes to represent. The old joke about an Othello, who in the enthusiasm of art painted himself all over, happens to be per- fectly true of Mr. Sothern in a metaphysical way,' Look at him standing in front oi his glas", doing what is technically called his ' make-up.' As he advances and recedes from the glasa to mark the effect of the lines which he is painting on hte face, you will notice thnt little by little he falls into the peculiar gait and mannerism of the character he is about to assume, and he does this un- consciously, as if he were putting on the part as well as the paint, until as he stands be- fore you the transformation is as com- plete as when you observe him on the stage. It is likewise a great test of his art that you feel a kind of shock when, after this transformation, you see him sit down m his chair, light a cigar and begin to talk about subjects which have no reference to the peculiar character in which he is attired. You don't know whether you are addressing Sothern or The Crushed Tragedian. As re- gards the materials of his dressiug-room, they are as simple as himself. Where other stors lug round wiU> them objects of vertu and ABOUT SOTHERN. 31 Bry man who wears >ro, without know- irtieement uf Mr. RESSINO-ROOM. , you harve met Mr. lie, iix hia dresaing- liaB he created upon ny hours with him ;o which you refer, interested not only h is more serious no, but in the novel reby his wonderful 1 effected. Nobody the Sothern of retu ished Tragedian.' ,0 greater con- Tragedian' than dy could possibly ck with his Lord Bak so much of dif> 3 colour of his wigs, t, aa of the curious ission— in what the B eye ;' in the tones entire character and D. In Garrick, his as a bell ; in Dun- :a and drawls; in the owls ; and as Sydney aimple-hearted, out- ct, he seems to have I part which he un- Theold joke about le enthusiasm of art , happens to be per- ■n in a metaphysical ding in front oi his chnically called his vances and recedes he effect of the lines I hte face, you will ittle he falls into the risfH of the character uid he does this un- e putting on the part itil as he stands be- rmation is as com- )8erve him on the great test of his art aock when, after this him sit down in his Ijegin to talk about no reference to the which he is attired, ir you are addressing L TrageUiau. As ro- 8 dressiiig-room, they . Wher6 other stars bjects of vertu and unneoessftry artiolea with which to adorn this apartment, Mr. 8othem carries nothing butatrunk>«r two and his dressing-case. No ! J forget one thing : he is always accom- panied by 'Baby,' his little Scotch terrier. He also takes less time to "make up' hia character than any actor I ever have seen." A TRIBUTE FROM A MANAGER. " I believe," said a listener, " that he has quite a reputation for being a charitable man." " Yes," replied Mr. Fiske, "and all the charitable affairs with which he has been connected are said by caaper» to be desit^iied as advertiseinents. Would to heaven other people would advertise themselves in the same way, for there would be less poverty and suffering in the world. Most persons forget that in charity work, instead of adver- tising the actor, it is always Mr. Sothern who advertises the charity, and in both coun- tries, to my knowledge, he has repeatedly injured his business at the theatre with which he has been connected, in order to do some good deed for a deserving man or woman in the profession. He has no need of that spe- cies of advertising which comes from giving large sums of money to poor institutions, and devoting his time and labour for the benefit of others, ^uriug every day of hip life his name is in a hundred newspapers, gratuit- ously, and probably in dozens of others at a cost of from fifteen to forty cents a line, and it will always be so, through his artistic con- nections, evpn though he should have to for- swear benevolence for ever. If I could see some great tragedian or playwright, some great author or painter, sculptor or editor, devoting so much of his time, work and money, to the poor as this unpretentious actor does regularly every year, I should have more patience with the cant about ' ad- vertising. ' What an effect it would have on the world if Wilkie Collins were to announce that he was going tp write a book for the relief of the widow of Tom Robertson, or Gustave Dore was going to paint a picture, to be exhibited and sold for the benijiit of the family of a property-artist who had died im- pecunious, or if the proprietor of any first- class paper in America were to agree to give the entire proceeds of one day's issue of his paper to a literary guild, or an eleemosynary institution. Would anyb«dy accuse either of these gentlemen of being gnilty of an at- tempt to advertise himself ? It is because this benevolence is so exceptional that small- miudec people cannot possibly believe it to be genuine. Knowing Mr. Sothern as well as I do, and believing him to be a very wealthy man, I would rather have his credit on the bank Up Yonder than all the money he has invested down below." THE DUMMY CORNETIST. "Perhaps," said Mr. .Stephen Fiske, "you have never heard the curious incident con- nected with the love scene in ' Home.' It is this; A part of that scene was originally played at — not on— a piano, the real pianist being concealed behind a screen, while Sothern and a young lady a(;t*>d their parts at a dummy in the presence of the audience. During the long run of the play in Ix)ndon, Sothern by constant rehearsals managed to do away with the piano behind the screen, and the young lady actnally played the music, which at first she only appeared to perform. Struck with the effect which she produced by her niusicul interpolations dur- ing the dialogue, he himself began to work out the idea of a solo on the comet, which should be likewise interspersed with remarks of an amusing character. Tooting on the cornet, liowever, is not one of Sothern's many accomplishments. He accordingly hired a regular artist on the instrument, and established such intimate relations with him thatthe sympathies of the two soon became nearly identical. He rehearsed him scores of times behind the scenes at the Haymarkot until the player became absolutely perfect, and then employed a man whose special duty it was to allow no person to speak to the cornetist during the perform- ance under pain of instant dismissal. The consequence was that when Sothern raised his dummy cornet to his lips the man behind the screen prepared for ac- tion ; when Sothern appeared to play, the artist made the music ; when Sothern dropped the instrument in order to carry on the dialogue, the cornetist ceased, and no- body not in the secret ever would have dis- covered that two persons were engaged iu representing that feature of the perform- ance. "When Sothern sent the copy to Wal- lack's Theatre iu this city, the business of the cornet was marked in it, but not the method by which he had achieved such a success abroad, and the result was rather ludicrous. Sothern always had been very careful to instruct the cornetist with refer- ence to the cues ; but where he had twenty rehearsals, Wallack had only one or twoj where Sothern had gone to so much trouble and the expense of hiring a man to specially second bis efforts, Wallack had to depend on the intelligence of the musician, and the v/atchfulness of the stage manager. When the scene occurred, Mr. Wallack raised the cornet to his lips, and the stage manager, in his zealous, eager manner, whispered to the TALKS WITH, AND artiat : ' Now, look out ■h»rp ! B« ready 1* the cornetist— he waa a German— at tnia instant dropped hi« instrument, and with an interrogative look upon his stolid counte- nance exclaimed : ' Vaa ist dast' Meanwhile the cue had been passed, and Wallack, on the stage, waH working at the pistons, pro- ducing, of course, not theslixhtest sound. A second afterwards he dropped his dummy cornet in despair, not dreaming of course what had taken place in the rear, and pro- ceedea with his dialogue, but th- poor Dutch- man, anxious to earn his money and get his notes in, kept right on and poured forth a Hood of melody which produced Bbout.thesame effect on the audience that Munchausen's horn with its frozen notes did upon the crew when they drifted from the arctic ocean to the southern seas. Since that eventful night Wallack has always omitted the cornet scene when he undertakes Sothern's part of Col. i John yVhite. SOTHERN IN LONDON, "Sothern in London," continued Mr. Fiske, " was a veritable king of mirth, hold- ing daily and nightly court with such rare spirits as J. L. Toole, Henry J. Byron, Tom Kobertson, Buokstone, Johnstone and a score of other gentlemen who are well known in theatrical and artistic circles. Every morn- ing the town was startled by some fresh social excitement, and every evening \lo clubs rang with laughter over Sothe>n'8 latest exploits. Hia practical jokes were of every description, from the intricate mechanical pleasantries designed by his friend Col. Johnstone, to the off-hand flip- pancy of getting a ragged newsboy for half* crown to turn somersaults and plant bis dirty feet in the abdomen of a reputable banker. What may be called the Johnston- ian era of Sothern's London experiences was illustrated by his expos^ of the Davenport Brothers and his tittina up an apartment with electrical and mechanical contrivances for the purpose of producing extraordinary effects on Johnstone's guests. You were in- vited, for example, to dine with the pair, en- tered the dining-room with other gentlemen in true British fashion, and there found only a table, with nothing on it except the cloth, knives and forks, and a ' bill of lading.' No aorvanta were in the room, and there waa no evidence of a repast. After everybody had been sufBcicntly surprised, Mr. isothern would blandly inquire ' What sort of soup will you have ?' Every guest was at liberty to mWlllOU UlS Jtrcictciivc, rrni^il -~."o ...—-, the door was soon after opened and in marched the servant with the article ordered. The aaine ayatem waa obaerved all through he different ooureea. Every kind of food apparently was in the kitohen,'ready cooked, that could be gotten up by mortal man, and everything was in the cellar that could be drank, fro.n Hungarian Buri(undy to Bourbon ' straight.' After dinner cigars were handed around, and upon the guest expressing a wish to have a light, a blue Hame wduld bunt out from the centre of the table. These curious effects were aooompliihed by means of electrical devices operated under the table by Col. Johnstone's feet, which established telegraphic communication with the cook down stairs, who had been previously sup- plied with every variety of canned soups, meats and vegetables th^t the market afford- ed, *nd which required but a mom>>nt's pre- paration ia order to supply the wants of tho respective guests. A SOCiABLE SHOWER BATH. " In St. Jt mes-street, Sothern had very elegantly furnished apartments which he was fond of ieading to such of his friends as wished to snend a night in town. Ac acute observer, however, noticed th;»t no friend from the country ever occupied those rooms twice, and a very respectable ghost story waa once worked up on this foundation. The secret finally leaked out that no sooner did the guest stretch himself on Sothern's luxurious couch, than his weight on the bed started a small edition of the deluge, and hundreds of tiny streams of lavender water poured down from the ceiling on the unhappy individual, drenching him to the skin. It may comfort some of these viotima, however, to know that Sothern himself, after a hunt- ing frolic, once occupied these apartments, and forgetful of his own preparations, be- came his own victim. "Advertisements, f apparently emanating from the offices of respectable city firms ana railway companies' offices, for coal-heavers and navvies to apply at confectioners' and bakers' shops ; notices for undertakers to gather at a certain house at a certain time, or at the green-room of some of the principal theatres, were also iucidonta of this era. [Of this species of nonsense Mr, Sothern denies any ^knowledge. — Editor.] AN OMNIBUS ADVENTURE. "Walking down Regent-street with me one day, he said : ' You go ahead a couple of blocks, Fiike, and I'll go back, but we will both take the Atlas omnibus.' I fol- lowed his instructions, and entering the omnibus found Sothern sitting in the diuon- ^iy ncposite corner^ I naturally looked at him with some curiosity to know why he had sent me two blocks ahead. Perceiving this, he assumed a very fierce and belligerent ex- pression, and exclaimed : 'Are yoo atuing )hen,lreMly oooked, ^ mortal man, »nil lar that could be jr«undy to Bourbon cigara were handed it expreMinff a wish lame wdnld bunt bhe table. Theie iipliihed by means ted under the table which established ion with the cook eu previously sup- of canned soups, t the market afford- ut a momout's pre- ly the wants of the »WER BATH. Sothem had very irtments which he ich of his friends as in town. Ad acute oed th«t no friend icupied those rooms jctable ghost story >a this foundation. out that no sooner mself on Sotheru's s weight on the bed >f the deluge, and I of lavender water iiliug on the unhappy m to the skin. It 3ae victims, however, mself, after a hunt- i these apartments, vn preparations, be- >parently emanatinK stable city finrs ana 3es, for coal-heavers ,t confectioners' and I for undertakers to e at a certain time, some of the principal lidenta of this era. nsense Mr. Sothera —Editor.] ADVENTURE, tgeot-street with rae a go ahead a couple '11 go back, bat we la omnibus.' I fol- I, and entering the sitting in the diaKon- : naturally looked at y to know why he had ad. Perceiving this, M and belligerent ex- i : 'Are von atariDg ABOUT H0THER5. at me, sir f The omnibus was rilled with several elderly ladies, two quiet gentlemen who looked like clorgjinen, and a farmer lrf>m the conntrv. I took the cue at once and reohed : 'No ; if I wanted to Btare at anybody, I would stare at a better bokinu man than yourself. ' At this, Sothorr's in- tlignatiou apparently became uncontrollable, and it required all the force of the clergy- men, seconded by the farmer, to krep him in hiB seat, and prevent him from throwiiii/ himself upon me. Finally he iimisted upon stopj^ingtho 'bu8,'and invited mo to step outside, and either apologize then and there Itir the insult, or fight him on the spot. I pretended to prefer to do the latter; but haid I would remain in the omuibus, where- upon Sotiiern took off his overcoat, and handed it to the nearest old maid to hold for him while he chastised mefd ny iinpeiti- uence. In the course of the < dtory re- marks in which we indulged ilurini; his meUe, he chanced to observe that he would ' allow nol)o, said; 'Mr. Fiske,. what was Mr. Sothern's object in asking me, as a special favour, to lean against U , when he rubbed his hanti kerchief against the glass ?' I did not myself tind out until during a subsequent conversation at supper, he explained the joke. It illustrates one of his methods. He had told her what to do. AS A CONJUIIOR. " Sothern's reputation in London as a con- juror, second sigtitist and general magician, was very great. Scores of the young sprigs of the aristocracy were in the habit of visit- ing his house to enjoy his dinners, smoke his cigars and admire his horses. I have some- times assisted him in his after-dinner frolics. On one occasion, by special reuuest, he com- municated his power to ine. I was sunt out of the room, and while absent the gentlemen selected a number, wrote it down on a piece of paper, and concealed it under a silver candlestick in the centre of the table. On my return to the room, Sothern made a few mysterious passes, and one of the gentlemen- was asked to inquire of me what was the concealed number, whereupon I promptly replied '93,701,' whiah, to the astonish- ment of every person present, except Sothern and myself, was correct. I don't mind tell- ing you that this was the number previously agreed upon between us, and all of Mr. Sothern's art, while I was out of the room, had been employed in persuading the young fellows to select that number as preferable to all others, from the fact that I would never be able to guess such a particular com- biuatioD. Sometimes he would po out of the room and I would help to select the number, but always with the invariable re- sult. UNDER THE TABLE. "A curious joke that illustrates Sothern's knowledge of human nature occurred at a dinner party, or what we Americans would call a 'stag party,' at his own house in England. Eight or ten gentlemen were present. In the midst of the meal Mr. Eng- lish, Sothern's friend and agent, waa an- nounced. 'Now, boys,' said Sothern, 'all thftt ihc ii on tha* Kii't he*r wlut I lay you will watuh her rn, three,' you will nibie, turn p«le and with whom ahe it Id HO, ]i6 pulled out ud it Kgaiuat the audience, and yre- ioted (Xicurred, It lat even I waa de- ■forinauce, when the- aaid . 'Mr. Fiske,. object in asUing me, eaii n^ainat U— — ,. andkerohief againat yaelf find out until vcrsation at aupper, It iihistratea one of old hor what to do. JUROR. 1 in London M a oon- d general magician, of the young apriKS u the bahit of viait- iadinnera, anioke hia >raeB. I have aonie- I after-dinner frolica. ::ial requeat, he com- me. I waa aunt out kbaent the gentlemen e it down on a piece d it under a ailver e of the table. Ou Sothern made a few one of the gentlemen' f me what was the ereupon I promptly ^h, to the astonish- esent, except Sothern .. I don't mind tell- le number previously us, and all of Mr. ras out of the room, persuading the young umber as preferable I fact that I would uch a particular com- be Would po out of i help to select the ith the invariable ro- E TABLE. t illustrates Sotheru's Qaturu occurred at a we Americans would at his own bouse ten gentlemen were of the meal Mr. Eng- and agent, waa au- I,' said Sothero, ' all ABOUT SOTHEKN. of you get under the uble— eTcry man of you—and don't stir until I give the word. This ia the best joke on Eiigliah that you ever saw.' Suitina the action to the word, down went the gueata and in came Mr. Knaliah. Sitting bv the side of Mr. 80- theiii, he proceeded to disc.ws the business that haundreary winks you hiiv^ seen on the stagh— -as much as to say, ' Keep quiet, old fellow,' until the whole party were reseated nn.l the dinner proceeded as usual. Down to this hour not •one of those gentlemen has ever succeeded in getting .Mr. Sothern to explain where the joke was on English, but perhaps some of them may see it when they read this narra- tive. The same magnetism he uses on the stage he used on these fellows. Though not one of them knew why he was goiug under che table, he couldn't refuse the rtqueet to do so. A HUNTING INCIDENT. When in England fox hunting waa his fa- vourite pastime, and his stock is one of no inconsiderable extent ai\d excellence. Many ; ft time hus his passion for following the ; hounds cost him a great deal of inconve- nience in the way of yetting to town as best he might in time for the theatre, and one ocQMton of this sort is perpetuated by him in a most amusing— as told by him— post prandial story. Late one afternoon he and a friend of his who had been clearing hedges I like good fellows all day with a fair Held and ■ no fox, turned their honws' heads town- ; ward. Plunging through the mist that had i settled down with a pouring rain, Sothern [ ran plump into a waggon coming in the op- poaite direction ; the ahaft penetrated his I favourite mare's breast, and in a few mo- ! mtnts the poor beast was dead. What to i do, the eometliwi and his friend could not imagine, but it was bnally aettled that the latter should ride back to where Sothern's ^ groom had stopped— a roadside inn— inform I him of the mare's death, and get him to I come out with some trap to convey his mas- i icr to the BUtiou of the HoIe-in-the-Wold, \ or wherever it was in that down country 1^- I gion. By the time Sothern's friend reached the groom, thftt individuaJ, aemire in the belief that his master waa by that time on a train Ifouml liondonward, waa glorionaly drunk. All efforts to make him understand wkat had occurred were fntile ; all be coulil say waa: " I-a-h Jenny dead? Weil, I'm dommed t " Finally, he gre-v lachrymeae and wept. " And what did Jenny say afore she died ?" he inquired, patJieticall v. Tke gentleman thought he might as well humour him J so he said -'" Well, Jenny said, • Tom alwavs tohl me how this would end.'" " Uid— hie— Jenny say thut?" cried the in- ebriated groom. " Hoys," turning to hsa boon companions, " who says a beast doa't know what's what ? Did Jenny say that ? I alius thought ud Jenny was a rare nn. J.'iiny knew-hio!" Sothein di^lii>etit«s thu case of tliu most inlatuated "drunk'' he ever knew man exceedingly entertaining manner. When his friend came back from where the credulous posset-druggetl groom was holdin^f forth in a way that wonhl hare delighted Mr. Bergh, Sothern roared with lauHhter througli the rain ; aad when he mounted his friend's horse and sped on his way to the station, leaving perforce his faithful Amigo to watch over the mare's body, still he chuckled at the man's tipey conceit. Despite thin hunting delay, be reached the theatre a moment before the pa- tience of the audience had been exhausted by too much orchestra. "TWO BOB FOR A SUMMERSAULT," One dull day in London— a rainy, foggy day, such as only London can produce — a well-known actress then playing there, pro- posed to Sothern that they should go on a lark. "Agreetl," said he, and off they started in a hansom, intent on finding the opportunity which Both«rn assured his com- panion he would procure before they return- ed to the theatre. Near the Adelphi, So- thern saw a stout, well-dressed gentleman, with a ckan white vest encasing an expaa- sive stomach, enter a candy shop. No sMm- er had the probable pert de famille gone for his sweets, than Sothern called one of the ragged boys gathered at the crossing and said to him : " Look here, my man, I'll give you a shilling if you turn a hand-apriug so as to throw those particularly dirty feet of yours against the white vest of the gentle- man who has just gone in to get aome sweets in that shop, as he comes out ; and I'll give you two shillings if you turn a second oce so as to catch him in the back." "All right, guv'nor," grinned the boy> and Sothern and Mrs. watched intently from their cab. In a moment or so the stout gentle- man emerged, one arm occupied with his umbrella, the other clasping a huge bundle 36 TALKS WITH, AND of sweets, and suffused, as it were, with an atmosphere of loving kindness. " Now I U give the children a treat," he seemed to say; bat vain hope ! His foot had scarcely touched the pavement before the dirty bare feet of the relentless gamin not only smirched his white vest, but fairly doubled him up ; his hands flew to his stomach, his bundle and umbrella Hew to the pavement ; he had DO time to breathe before the boy's flying feet hit him in the back and nearly over- turned him quite. The two conspirators in the cab roared with laugher, but suddenly up came the small boy, doBely followed by the maddened citizen. " Give me my two bob, sir," shouted the boy. "Hush, you youn^ ragamuitin," said Sothern. " He promised to give me two bob if I would pitch into you," shouted the boy. "You did, sir, did you, eh ? " cried the citizen, doubly irate. Sothern Hung the boy his money, and shouted to the driver, " Whip up your horses ! go it, old fellow, and you ■hail have a sovereign 1 " They rattled on, the citizen of the erst spotless vest cursing their memory. Sothern says that Mrs. .' was in such hysterics that she slipped off the seat and reposed on the floor of the cab, shaken with mighty mirth until she was lifted out at the theatre, still couTulsed with merriment. A BEFOGGED CLERK. On another occasion the same fun-loving pair wandered into an ironmonger's shop in quest of food for laughter, Sothern assuming the responsibility. He advanced to the counter and said, " Have you the second edition of Macaulay's History of England T " The shopkeeper explained that he kept an ironmonger's establishment. "Well, it don't matter whether it is bound in cajf or not," answered the customer. " But, sir, this is not a bookseller's." " It don't matter how you put it up," says Sothern ; " a piece of brown paper — the sort <>f a thing yon would give your own mother." "Sir I" bawled the shopkeeper, "we — don't keep it I No books ; this is an iron- monger's shop." "Ye\" says Sothern, " the bindirg dif- fers, but I'm not partioular — as long aa I have a fly-leaf." " Sir !" fairly screamed the shopkeeper, " Can't you see we keep no books ? This is an ironmoncrer's shop 1 ' it "Certainly," said Sothern, seating him- self; "rii wail for iU" Believing that his customer was either hopelessly deaf or equally mad, the man called another from the other end of the store and explained that he could do nothing with the gentleman. " W hat do you wish, sir ? " shouted the second man, advancing. " I should like," says Sothern, quietly, "a small plain file, about so long. " "Certainly, sir," said the man, casting upon bewildered No. 1 a glance uf the most unmitigated disgust. Before the article could bo procured, Mrs. , who had been pretending to M occupied in looking at saws and such trifles, had yielded to always dominant risibilities, so that she became quite helpless, and Sothern incontinently iled with his purchase as soon as he could obtain it, leaving her to recover at her leisure. When they met at the theatre she accused him of having abandoned her after reducing her to an utterly inert state by his practical joke, bat he made it all right by presenting her, not with Macaulay's History, but — the tile. LORD DUNDREARY IN HANDCUFFS. Mr. Stephen Fiske relates the following anecdote ; " Perhaps one of the densest crowds that London ever knew^ assembled to witness the entry of the Prince of Wales, with the Prin- cess Alexandra, some years ago. The re- fined beauty and grace of the little Princess had been loudly proclaimed throughout the land, and curiosity to see the bride of the future King of England was up to fever heat. The line of route was not a long one, some of the streets being very narrow; and it was cabnlated at the time that over three mil- lions of people, from various points of the compass, assisted at this welcoming apee- tacle. "The procestdon having to promenade Fleet-street, en route to Temple Bar (with- out passing through which ancient and vexa- tious portal no respectable procession would be oomplete), the editor of Punch issued in- vitations to a select coterie of artistic and literary friends to assemble at the Punch office, at ten o'clock in the morning, to par- take of lunch and see the show from the windows. As a sample of the stamp of men present, there were Mark Lemon, Shir- ley Brooks, Tom Taylor, John Leech, Ten- niel,the entire Punch'stAff; Millaisand Frith, the eminent painters; Buskin, Lord Lytton, Charles Dickens, Cruikshauk, Tennyson — in fact, a more brilliant assembly of men of genius perhaps rarely met under one rooL A magnificent entertainment was served; and if the good things that were said on that bright March morning had been carefully not* t i iown, they would nave filled a number of fhe famous journal within whose walls the mpany met at he could do nothing ] ABOUT SOTHERN. ah, sir ? " shonted the ?• ^a Sothern, quietly, "a 80 long. " laid the man, casting 1 a glance of the most Before the article TB. , who had occupied in looking at had yielded to always so that she became Sothern incontinently e as soon as he could ftr to recover at her net at the theatre she abandoned her after erly inert state by his made it all right by bh Macaulay's History, Y IN HANDCUFFS, relates the following e densest crowds that sembled to witness the Wales, with the Prin- years ago. The re- B of the little PrinceBs Mmed throughout the see the bride of the d was up to fever heat, aot a long one, some of narrow; and it was that over three mil- rarious points of the this welcoming apee- having to promenade to Temple Bar (with- ^hioh ancient and vexa- table processioa would tor of Punch issued in- oterie of artistic and Bsemble at the Punch 1 the morning, to par- the show from the pie of the stamp of )re Mark Lemon, Shir- lor, John Leech, Ten- Btaff; Millaisand Frith, Ruskin, Lord Lytton, ikihank, Tennyson — in assembly of men of y met under one roof. ;ainment was served; that were said on that Lbad beencaretuily not* ave filled a number of rithin whose walla the 8T ' Among the persons expected was So- thern, the comedian, whose Lord Dundreary was at that moment making people laugh Wieir heads off at the Hay market Theatre. The procession was not to move until twelve o clock, and Lord Dundreary did not leave home until about half-past ten. All was plam sailing as far as Fleet-street; and, dia- chargmg bis carriage at the corner of a street intersecting tliis thoroughfare, he reached Fleet-street, and by dint ef hard squeezing and pushing, prevailing and I watching every movement of the gigantic I crowd, he at last got opposite the Punch office, and there he was compelled to halt To cross the street was simply impossible." Deeply buried in the dense tlirong, he stood for quite an hour watching his friends at the windows. Ho could even hear, now and again, a peal of laughter and the ring of their merry voices. 'By the Gods,' mused the comedian, 'I'm missing an enormous treal: ! I must get across this street by hook or by crook — but how ?' "Happy thought! At that moment he saw a policeman. He worked hia way to- I wards him, and said— I " ' Bobby, if you'll manage to take me I across the street to the Punch office I'll give * you a sovereign. ' : ," The policeman simply smiled, and point- I ed to the impenetrable throng. I "'I know it will be toutrh work, and per- I haps I may lose my coat and hat in the ' ■ struggle,' pursued Sothern; < but it's most ! important that I should be there with mv j friends. ! , "'I've no doubt of it, sir; but it's im- ! iposaible. Why, you might as well ask me I to take you through the walls of St Paul's ' there. I I " 'Nonsense,' urged Sothern, with irre- i Ipressible persistence. ' You are a tali, strong ' I man-Im thin and wiry; if you'll open the ! way, 1 11 follow, and it's to be done with a i little effort. Look here (whisper), get me "^ff. and I'll give yon a five-pound note !' ^ At this offer the policeman shut one eye, rubbed his ear, puckered his lips, ele- ' vated his nose, stood on tiptoe, and survey- ed the scene before him. '' 'Brace yourself for a mighty effort,' said Sothern, encouragingly. " He made an effort, but without success, he crowd instanHy howled with one voice. Back, back, Bobby, back ! Where are you ihovm' to ?' At that moment Dickens and Brooks :amu to tho window, e»uU with a glass of hampagne in his hana, looked out, survey- sd tho scene, and then retired, radiant with lome observation made by the author of Pickwick.' This tableau was too much for Lord Dundreary ; to miss all the brilliant talk of that morning— to miss being present- ed to some of the most gifted men on earth ! —he would make one last effort. ' Police- man,' whispered he, 'have you got a pair of handcuffs? I'll strike you. Arrest me. Shout— "A pickpocket— I've got him 1" Drag me across— the crowd will take up the cry and make way —that's the programme— here's the money in advance !' The police- man was a huge, strapping member of the force. It was the work of an instant. Into his pocket went the note; out came the hand- cuffs. Sothern made a plunge at the breast of the man, who literally hurled himself at the crowd, dragging his victim after him. Off went hats, down fell half-a-dozen people not physically gifted, and after three minutes' hard fighting with the most savage opposition, the twain landed on the steps of the Punch office. "To say that there was a yell of execra- tion at the policeman for his vigorous coup ■ d". main would faintly describe the howl I that went up from the crowd. It reminded j one of that volume of sound heard on a Derby Day, when the favourite shoots past , the winning post. , Punch was the word in : more senses than the journal implied. There I were punched heads, punched hats, to say I nothing of ribs and noses, and Sothern and 1 the bold blue ' Bobby' sought rapid refuge j withm the hospitable portals of the Fleet- I street humorist. j "Happily, at that Imoment a loud voice I shouted, 'The prince is coming— or-e^er /' and the excitement lulled. The comec'ian made his way up to his friends, related the incident, and quaffed a glass of champagne, which was held to his lips by Mark Lemon. While this was going on, OruikshanK, al- ways ready for a joke, wheedled the police- men out of a back door into a side street, with strict instructions not to return until after the procession had passed ; and Sothern saw the show, made some charming new ac quaintances, i irtook of his lunch, and ut- tered his cry of welcome to the pretty Princess- firmly bound in strong iron brace- lets. " Millais chaffingly suggested a grand his- torical picture for the Academy— ' Lord Dundreary in Fetters at the Great Welcom- ing of the Beautiful Bride.' Shirley Brooks insisted that a French drasnati-'it \T.".-,)!d H=.-.— got a Palais Royal farce out of the incident" and Sothern consoled himself with tho reflec- tion that he was the only parson of the millions present who witnessed the pageant in handouffi. m- TALKS WITH, AND A CRITICISM ON "THE CRUSHED,' BY MR. GEORGE W. CHILDS, OF THE "PHILADELPHIA LED- GER," JAN. 21, 1878. " When a new, distinct and enjoyable character is created by author and actor for the dramatic stage, it has good title to take rank among other works of art. It isin many respects just such a creation as an acce[)ted masterpiece of sculpture, or a finished paint- ing, or a grand piece of music, to which the cultivated mind pays homage of admiration for the skill, the study, the talent, or the genius displayed in the achievement. Something like this is done by Mr. Sothern in the study and representation of his De Lacy Fitz Altamout, the ' Crushed Trage- dian, ■ now on the stage of the Walnut-street Theatre. This new character stands out like a statute, or the central figure of a life- like picture. It is not only distinct from all others of the characters with which our dramas are peopled, but it is 83 opposite as possible to Dundreary, that other creation of Mr. Sothern, with which his fame as a dramatic artist is so largely identified, and there is not the faint- est flavour of Mr. Sothern's own individuali- ty in it. "The characterization, however, belongs to the same class of origftial studies worked out to the next thing to perfection by the artist, and with such other works as Jef- ferson's 'Rip Van Winkle,' Charles Kean's •Louis XL,' and Charlotte Cushman's ' Meg M«rrilies.' " It is not our purpose to describe the 'Crushed Tragedian.^ It would requirea good deal of study to do even that in a satisfac- tory way. The play must be seen and heard to be understood, and it will be the better enjoyed by those who go to see it if they have no detailed description. It may be said, however, that notwithstanding the 'dejected 'havior of the visage' of the Crushed Tragedian, and his inky habiliments, very seedy and baggy, and ; the many set- backs he suffers in pursuing the pet ambi- tion of his life, his expression of his profes- sional woes is so grotesque and ludicrous that the audience is in one continuous strain of laughter so long as he is on the stage. Then there is a meaning in the play for those who prefer, above intellect and true art, the poor tawdry stuff and humbug of which so much of the modern stage is made «.p. " A ROW AT THE GRAMERCY PARK HOTEL. Perhaps the most famous of all the practi- cal jokes with which Mr. Sothern had to do was the " Texan banquet, " given to a gen- tleman at the Gramercy Park Hotel, in this city, during the month of December, 1872. It made a great stir at the time, and even led to an immense deal of seriocomic talk about duels. A young, good-natured Eng- lish tourist had been made to believe, since his arrival here, a great many things which had absolutely no foundation in fact. In brief, he, moving in the upper ranks of dra- matic society, had fallen into the hands of some of the most dreadful practical jokers in New York, so that very speedily he must have had the most curious medley of ideas possible to a traveller concerning life and so- ciety customs here. "Among the leading practical jokers with whom he came in con- tact, may be mentioned," said the chronicles of the time, "William S. Florence, E. A. Sothern, and others of lesser prominence." Well, to do honour to Mr. , Sothern gave a splendid banquet at his rooms in the Gramercy Park Hotel. It was on a Sunday afternoon. Covers were laid for twelve, Mr. Sothern presiding, and the guest of the even- ing, Mr. , sitting at the right, Nelse Seymour at the foot of the table, and Dan Bryant at the left oi the guest. The guests were all in evening dress. The dinner was a sumptuous one, and well served ; the wines of rich and rare vintages. Hardly a smile rippled over the face of any one present, al- though indeed some remark was made when Mr. Gaylor took from under his coat a paper battle-axe — the broad blade being covered with tinfoil— such as is used to kill tyrants on the stage. Wiiile the soup was being served, Mr. Neil t.yant drew from beneath the back collar of his coat a dirk -knife, the blade of which was over a foot long, which he solemnly unclasped and placed beside his plate. Mr. Chris Connor took a six-shooter from his coat-tail pocket, and laid it down carelessly on the table. Mr. looked around in a bewildered way. Nelse Seymour drew a scythe from under the table and then a policeman's club, and laid them in the middle of the board. At this Mr. be- gan to move very uneasily, and whispered to his friend Mr. Sothern : "Old fellow, what dots this mean?" "Keep quiet," replied Sotheni, "it is as I have feared. These gentlemen have been drinking, and they have quarrelled about a friend of theirs, a Mr. Weymyss Jobson, quite an eminent scholar, and a very estim- able gentleman ; but I hope, for our sakes, that they will not attempt to settle their quarrel here. It is dreadful, but I hope, . dear boV; that they will go away quietly j and have uo row. It is a fashion they have here to settle their disputes at a table, or wherever they meet. All we can do now is to await events." " But there will be murder here. Can we WITH SOTHERN. h of December, 1872. t the time, and even »1 of serio comic talk ng, good-natured Eng- made to believe, since eat many things which tundatiun in fact. In he upper ranks of dra- llen into the hands of dful practical jokers in very speedily he must rious medley of ideas concerning life and so- " Among the leading whom he came in con- ;d," said the chronicles ,m S. Florence, E. A. )f lesser prominence." to Mr. , So them let at his rooms in the !. It was on a Sunday ire laid for twelve, Mr. 1 the guest of the even- ; at the right, Nelse of the table, and Dan the guest. The guests ess. The dinner was a «-ell served ; the wines ages. Hardly a smile of any one present, al- emark was made when under his coat a paper d blade being covered is used to kill tyrants e the soup was being ant drew from beneath coat a dirk -knife, the ver a foot long, which d and placed beside his nnor took a six-shooter icket, and laid it down »ble. Mr. looked ed way. Nelse Seymour inder the table and then and laid them in the At this Mr. -~— be- ineasily, and whispered them : ; dots this mean ?" plied Sotheni, "it is as le gentlemen have been ; [lave quarrelled about a | Wr. Weymyss Jobson, ; lolar, and a very estim- I hope, for our sakes, ! attempt to settle their i dreadful, but I hope, | will go away quietly! t is a fashion they havei ' disputes at a table, or| All we can do now : e murder here. Can wel not notify the police of their intentions T" " Impossible, my dear fellow," answered Sothern, in a distressing whisper. "Were you even to be suspected by these men of attempting to leave the room you would be shot like a dog, and no satisfaction would ever be given your relatives ,in a court of justice." By this time Mr. if was tho- roughly aroused, and in no m'o6d for tasting even the first course. " What an infernal country !" he said, in a whisper. For a few moments the regular banquet business went ■on, when suddenly a row arose at the lower end of the table, and Mr. Neil Bryant, -springing to his feet, fiercely exclaimed : " Whoever says that the ' History of the French Revolution, ' written by my friend Havid Weymyss Jobson, is not as good a book in every respect as that written by Tom Carlyle on the same subject, is a liar, a thief, and if there is any fool present who desires to take it up, I am his man !" All thegueets rose suddenly, and everyone grasp- «d his weapon. Chris Connor roared, as he seized his pistol : " You are another, Bry- ant, and by my halidome I will prove it on your treacherous body." Then shots were firad, and the room was filled with smoke and uproar. Several of the guests clinched and struggled, and Nelse Seymour, while struggling across the table, thrust his foot into the eight-quart soup tureen., made a wild plunge, but was knocked down, and •then found it impossible to release his foot from the vessel. Mr. ran to the door, but the conspirators had locked it. Billy Florence thrust a long knife into Mr. 's 'hands, and cried out : " Defend yourself! This is butchery— sheer butchery !" So- thern kept saying continually to Mr. : " Keep cool, and don't get shot ! This is awful — a thousand pardons — I am a stranger in the country, and I had no expectation of meeting these demons at a dinner given to my friend !" Tne hotel, in the meantime, had been alarmed, and the guests and •waiters, outside, were making frantic endea- vours to break open the doors, fearing that murder would be done. It is almost need- less to say that the whole row was a practi- cal joke upon the guest of the evening, who had brousiht it on himself by boasting about -the swell letters of introduction he had brought from London. Sothern told him his letters were all to the wrong class of peo- ple, but that he would ask some of the really first raters— KYiickerbockers— to meet him. Shortly afterwards he met Florence •—■ •— sg--' •'•1-- •-- -• rir->f Bumc VI trie uruil «at nigger minstrels. Florence did so, and gave them instructions what to do. The joke was finally spoiled, however, by one circum- stance. Seymour, when knocked down by some minstrel trick, instantly rubbed burnt cork over his left eye, and rose seemingly badly damaged. But he forgot himself and rubbed the cork off, and Mr. , recover- •ng from his fright, and seeing through the affair, decidedly turned the tables by taking his hat, and saying, with an exquisite drawl: "Gentlemen, I am extremely obliged to you for this evening's entertain- ment, which has had both tragedy and come- dy combined. This has really been the best negro minstrel performance I have ever seen in America, and fully equals any that I have seen given at St. James" Hall, in my own city of London. Good evening, gentlemen 1" And so saying he gracefully bowed himself out of the room. SOTHERN IN AN ENGLISH RAILWAY CAR. Mr. John T. Raymond relates the follow- ing incident as strictly true : "Sothern and I were going from Glasgow to Birmingham. While walking on the plat- form of the railway station he purchased a handful of cigars, a portion of which he handed to me, with the remark, 'Now, John, when we get into the compartment, if there's anybody present but ourselves, let's be strangers, but be ready for any fun that turns up.' When I entered, I found the place occupied by a couple of well-to- do English gentlemen- matter-of-fact, solid- looking men, you know — who were ap- parently friends and fellow-travellers. As soon as the train started, feeling in my pock- et, I produced a cigar, and turning to the gentlemen, asked : — " 'Do you object to smoking?' They re- plied in the negative. I then turned to Sothern, who was sitting on the other side, and with a polite bow inquired : — '"Do i/ov object to smoke, sir ?' " 1 1 do,' he replied with an air of offended dignity, ' I do most assuredly. It's a piece of impertinence to ask such a question. ' " ' I beg your pardon,' I said, ' I am only an American gentleman, and quite unused tc the customs of your country.' " 'That's easy enough to see, sir ; you're either an American or a fool, sir. We don't do things like that in England- "I sank back in my corner as if half frightened to death, while Ned indulged in a series of indignant mutterings well calcu- lated to show tnat he was suffering from a severe attlack of choler. At this the two Englishmen grew angry at his manner, and expressed ihcmBelves to each other accord- ingly. After the thing had runalong for a few minutes, Sothern quietly took from his pocket a cigar, lighted it, and proceeded to smoke in the most nonchalant way, and aa 40 TALKS WITH, AND blivious to his surroundiDgs as if there were not another person within a thousand miles. The Englishmen looked at each other, then at me, then at him, and the more they looked the more indignant they seemed to become. They saw that I was a small and inoffensive man, tno small to fight this fellow— and witli lh« natural desire to see fair play which belongs to all true British- ers, they finally opened on Sothern. They talked at him, and around him, and finally to him, directly. They tried to make him put the cigar out ; apolojgize ; swore they would call thec[uard, and threatened all kinds of things, bnt there sat Ned imperturbable and silent as a syphnx coolly puffing away at his havana. and filling the compartment with smoke. In the midst of this wordy warfare, the train arrived at a station. Ned bestowed a well-assumed contemptuous look on the two Englishmen, and taking me by the arm, said :~. " ' Come, John, let's get out and take a •tretch on the platform. We'll leave these brutes to themselves for a while.' " You should have seen the rage written on their faces. They seized their shawls and packages and followed us as if they in- tended some sort of summary punishment, no matter what came of it ; but meanwhile Sothern had quietly ' tipped ' the guard, se- cured another apartment, and as the train moved off, the two gentleiacn were left standing on the platform evidently feeling cheaply sold at my parting remarks to that effect from the car window." A BREAKFAST PARTY WITH TOOLE. On the special train that whirled the par- ticipants in Edwin Adams' benefit from New York to Philadelphia in'ninety nine and ahalf minutes, Mr. Sothern related to Miss Lotta, her mother, Mrs. Crabtree, and a little gronp, the following anecdote : He said that "On one occasion. Mr. Toole and myself were breakfasting with a party of friends at an inn at Greenwich. No sooner had the waiter left the room for an inr.tL nt than T proposed that we should re- move the plate from the cloth, and get under the table. This we did without loss of time, taking every ar. jle of silver-ware from the table, down to the spoons, and throwing open the window. After a while the door opened and the waiter reappeared. " ' Hallo !' he cried, seeing the company gone, also the silver, and the window wide open, • here's a rum go ! I'm blessed if they arn't run away with the silver ! Here. Dick (to a waiter who wan passing), the gentlemen 'as run away with the silver ! Help me find the guv'nor t' With that he made a hasty exit, whureujjrwi the party resumed their places, after shutting down the window and replacing the dishes, the knives, the fork« and the spoons. When the 'guv'nor' ap- peared, breathless and cursing, not loud, but deep, he found a party of gentlemen in- the full possession of his silver-ware, quietly discussing the fish, for the preparation of which his hostelry was noted. . His ejacula- tion of rage cl^^inged to astonishment and relief. " 'Eh, what,' said he, 'everything secure. Why, James, you blarsted rascal, what do you mean ?' " ' So help me, guv'nor ' protested the mystified garcon. " 'You're drunk, you idiot,' said the in- credulous master. " ' Gentlemen, I beg your pardon. I will withdravi^,' and we veiled our mirth with the napkins, and a smile of forgiveness stole over each innocent face. A BREAKFAST AT THE CONTINEN- TAL HOTEL, PHILADELPHIA. "One morning at breakfast in the pub- lic room in the Continental Hotel, Philadel- phia, I observed," said Mr. Sothern, "an old gentleman, who was obviously very much annoyed at the delay of the waiter in bring- ing his breakfast. He was continually look- ing at his watch and apparently muttering oaths of abdominal origin. For some time I paid little attention to the party, but at last becoming interested, I asked the head waiter who he was. H6 told me it was Oeneral So- and-so, an irascible old bachelor— one of the regular boarders in the house. While wait- ing for my own breakfast, I had emptied my pockets of the letters which I had to acknow- ledge that morning, and among them found what we call a ' property letter,' that had accidentally found ittf Way among my own papers. A property letter, you know, means a letter used on the stage, and this one read as follows : — '"Young man, I know thy secret.. If thou hast wit, courage, and discretion, I can secure the realization of thy most sanguine hopes. (Signed) " ' Bkauseant. ' " It is the letter which Claude Melnott© reads in the Lady of Lyons. It strnok me on the instant that I would enclose it in au envelope, send it to the old gentleman, and watch the effect; so, calling one of the wait- ers—a coloured man — I told him to go out- side in the hall, remain for five minutes, and then return and deliver the letter, saying that the writer would call for a reply during- the day. I also instructed the waiter after giving this message to retire «3|uickly and not- be seen again in the hotel oniil the next day. WQ the window and knives, the fork« the 'guv'nor' ap- cursing, not loud, rty of gentlemen iu' silver-ware, quietly the preparation of loted. His eja«ula- > astonishment and ' everything secure. 3d rascal, what do r ' protested the idiot,' said the in- our pardon, I will ed our mirth with of forgiveness stole rHE CONTINEN- :ladelphia. akfast in the pub- tal Hotel, Philad»-1- Mr. Sothern, "an :>bviously very much the Waiter in bring- as continually look- iparently muttering I. For some time I he party, but at last ked the head waiter e it was General So- achelor — one of the ouse. While wait- ;, I Lad emptied my ich t had to acknow- among them found letter,' that had ray among my own r, you know, means 3, and this one read iw thy secret.. If nd discretion, I caa bhy most sanguine " ' Bkausbant. ' 1 Claude Melnotte ons. It struck m« Id enclose it in an )Id gentleman,, and ng one of the wait- old him to go out'- or five minutes, and the latter, sayinff .1 for a reply during- id the waiter after tire cjuickly and noi [ oniil the next day. ABOUT SOTHEHN. 41 his and that I would make it all right with chief. " Agreeably to my instructions, in a few minutes the servant walked up to the Gen- eral and put the letter in his hands. The old gentleman adjusted his spectacles, tore open the envelope, and in an amazed tone commenced to read half aloud : ' Youni/ man, I know thy secret,' and so on. He read it over two or three times, and I never saw anybody more bewildered. At last he called for the head waiter and demanded to see the servant who had delivered the letter; of course he was not to be found. The lt)nger lie pondered the more he looked as if he wanted to rave. In the meantime, in came his breakfast. " ' D n the breakfast !' he exclaimed, almost kicking over the table. ' I want to seethe lunatic who calls me a ' young man,' and says he 'knows my secret, and can secure the realization of my fondest hopes. ' I haven't got any secret, and my fondest hope is to kick the idiot who sent me this insane note. ' " During this time, two or three ladies had joined me at the breakfast table, and notic- ing the extraordinary excitement of the Gen- eral, asked me if I knew who he was. I told them to keep very quiet, and not to at- tract his attention; that he was a fratricide, and an escaped lunatic, whose keepers were outside behind the doors wait- ing for him, and that the letter was only a decoy to enable them to secure him without unnecessary violence. This thoroughly alarmed tlie ladies, and they hurriedly left the table, retreating through the door at the other end of the room. "At this movement the second head waiter, who had noticed the agitation of the ladies, walked up to me, and asked if they were not satistied with their breakfast. " 'Oh, yes,' I replied, 'I presume so ; but the youngest lady is a dangerous nianiao at times, and the instant she saw her father, Gen'l So-and-so, disturbed in his mind by the letter she had written, I whispered to her friend to take her out of the room. ' " In a few moments, having finished my breakfast, I took my own departure. On reaching the office of the hotel, I . quired of one of the principal clerks whethe. lis head waiter was quite sound in his mind. He aaked me my reason for making the inquiry. I said that I didn't want to get my name mixed up in the matter, but it struck me that the one weak point of his intellect was his apnarantlv intense dislike tn th^. Oanr^r^^ and I observed to the clerk, ' Just test it by going up to him suddenly, and saying, '^ Don't you think you will got yourself into trouble about that letter of the General's ?" ' "After breakfast Mr. , the clerk, walked up to the head waiter and abruptly made that remark. Of course the waiter got very much confused and 8tammeree wai Douglas Stuart. He was tall, wi.iowy and lithe, with a clear, red and white, English com- plexion ;1 bright blue eyes; ■*avy, brown iirtirj grRC6i«i iti iiis cRrnRj"?, snvt weli cslcu- lated physically to conciliate the heart of any susceptible woman. He lived at the same house with me, and I soon found that he had all the simplicity and buoyancy of a ABOUT S6THERN. 43 , when K^entlemftnly- ip and aaid : ' Excaae you, but in changing . I forgot my purae. le, of course, but lA I on the lawp, and re- led to take tl)e risk 80 position by making oe.' He farther re- iburgh man and know :r friends, though we I formally introduced, he observed, ' I am rom rheumatism, and to walk. It struck imstances you would le a half crown until I stiuation, when I will by messenger.' r the halt crown and party, take a glass of ;he moat gentlemanly 'efnsed, said he must lands with me, took dies, and gracefully le company, iidn't know a solitary arties whose names he lal friends, and I never EMBERED BY ONE • FRIENDS. a veteran actress on furnished the editor :oliections concerning Sotheni in America, fients are occasionally ley will doubtless be . She aaya : ' at the old National e night previous to its Lady Sneerwell in the After the bun^ng, with Messrs. Sinclair ; the Federal-street there went to n, where I have out this time, a Mr. igland a young man, of introduction from rttonBulwer, Sergeant Mople who had seen ote of him in language is n0"ie wa<< Douglas , wi.iowy and lithe, white, English com- eyes; A^'avy, brown inciliate the heart of a. He lived at the and I soon found that ty and buoyancy of a child. He wan not rich— anything but that — but invariably charitable and generous to the extent of prodigality. " He entered at once upon his professional duties at the nev/ National Theatre, under the management of Mr. Leonard, a cele- brated auctioneer of Boston, and appeared as Dr. PanglosB. His opening night was not a :8ucces8. Yon can fancy the appearance of a boy on the stage. I should say he was three or four and twenty, but behind the footlights he did not look as if he were more than sixteen. He had a singularly sweet voice ; much better then than it is now. Playing Dundreary, and ' The Crushed Tra- gedian, have iirobably hardened it, and de- stroyed that nice shade of emphasis which then enabled |him to give a tender expres- sion in f ftthetic parts. " Mr. Stuart's next move was to the How- ard Athenaeum, where he received a salary I think of twenty or twenty-five dollars a week. I remember an incident that occur- red at this period which illustrates a phase ■ of l"" character to which I have just referred. -Ont f the actors, by the name of Sneiderj a quiet, well-behaved, inoflfensive man, who was very poor, was suddenly taken ill. Stuart, or rather let us call him Sotheru, learning this fact, went to the quarters of Sneider, where he found the friendless, jpenniless fellow more dead than alive, in a iiniflerable back attic, and became his con- stant nurse. Apparently he was in the last stages of consumption, and but for the care, 'Comfort and attention rendered by his ndw found friend he probably would have died. I' have seen him two or three times within * few years, and he never fails to speak in the most extravagant terms of the kindness and affection showed him during that sick- ness. " The first impression produced by Mr. Sothern as an actor was not a favourable one. The truth is, he had been overpraised. |Mr. laeonard, the manager, had announced it in advance tht.t he was going to bring to America the greatest actor that had ever appeared on its stage, and thus had aroused the expectations of the people to such a de- free that theyiwere fnaturally disappointed ; ence his failure. Besides, he was not old enough to make a sensation. He couldn't even make up properly, although his elocution rVvas correct, and he was perfect in whatever part he undertook. I don't remember the different pieces that he played, yet I recall the fact that they were remarkably well done for so young a man. But, oh ! how sensitive he was, especially when the papers cut him it, v.hich they did without stint. " In all Mr. Sothern s personal dealings he ^was the soul of honour, always having a strict regard for truth. I remember that when ho left our house he hadn't the money with which to travel and pay his expenses to New York ; but there was one of my ser- vant girls who had deposited with me for safe keeping some funds of her own, amount- ing, I think, to forty or fifty dollars, and with her consent I offered him that snm. After he reached New York and was able to save up some money of his own, one of the first things he did was not only to return the amount borrowed, but to send a dress to the girl, the value of which was more than half the sum loaned. " The 'worst habit he had at that time was drinking strong coffee, which he did at night after his return from the theatre, and he insisted on never drinking alone. If I or the other people in the house had retired, he would seize the dinner bell and go prancing up and down the premises ringing like a madman until somebody turned out to keep him company in the dining-room. Ah, many is the jolly story and glorious laugh we had over those cups of midnight coffee. " On^ night he was in more than' usually exuberant spirits, but I had gone to bed very tired ; he rang the bell, he pounded at the door, he announced that if I didn't come down stairs he would frighten me in the most dreadful manner. "I'll light blue fire,' said he, ' I'll throw a skeleton through the ventilator, I'll tie all the neigh- bourhood cats together and hang them to your door knob; I'll sound Chinese gongs, explode a can of gunpowder, and raise the neighbourhood generally unless you come out of that room., Of course I had to do so and make his coffee. He was simply a big, overgrown, sympathetic, jolly boy. Having no relatives of my own, I have always thus looked upon him more as a son than anything else, and up to this hour he has been as filial and de- voted to me as if in truth he were my own child, " In a social point of view he had much the same characteristics then as now. He was alwaya fond of animals, and had cats and birds by the score. He is so'full of mag- netism that nearly all kinds of pets take to him naturally, by instinct, as it were, and he in turn clings to^them with all the affection of a woman. He is very tender and domestic in his feelings, and has a strong partiality for home associations. If he has a personal fault, it is that now and then he empita- sizes rather strongly, but he does even this in such an easy, spontaneous way, that the most refined of his guesta will for- give the breach. TALKS WITH, AND SPIRITUAL EXPERIENCES. "Perhaps you never heard of Sothern's spiritual experience," writes the old lady. " Well, one Saturday evening — by the way, we did not play on Saturday evenings then — we took it into our heads to have some amusement of our own, and I proposed to go to the spirit knockers. Sothern caught at the idea eagerly, and we started oflF. Not know- ing the street in which they resided, we were obliged to apply at every house for two or three blocks, Sothern good-naturedly as- suming the role, of an unsophisticated coun- tryman. "At last, however, we found the spot, and fortunately I was recognized by the inmates of the house. A circle had already been formed around the table, and we were invited to take seats and join them. Sothern pre- tended to be intensely excited — I never saw him more so. He scrutinized all the sur- roundings closely, asked a great many ques- tions, and went home apparently quite seri- ous and bewildered. He was particularly amused by the husband of the medium, who, opening the window in the apartment at 10 o clock, declared with a solemn air that the spirits had departed— that thev couldn't stay any longer. He got up and wen« to the window to observe where they had gone, and you never saw so surprised a man. "The next evening Gustavus V. Brooke, the tragedian, who was very intimate with Mr. Sothern, came to the house, and making up a large party we repeated our visit to the rappers. Brooke was likewise very much affected by what he saw, and shed tears, con- fessing that the spiritualists had described home scenes and incidents that «ere un- known to anybody but himself. When we returned from the place that night, Sothern remarked : ' Now, I propose to devote my life to finding out what this infernal mystery is. I believe it's a humbug, and I'll know it and that right soon. I observe that the man always opens the window to let the spirits out about the same time every even- ing— I think I can make them stav. You wait and see !' "A fortnight or more passed away, dur- ing which we had seances at my own house, for the purpose of discovering, if possible, how the raps were produced. One evening the medium suddenly turned round, and ex- cliiiming that she was tired, opened the win- dow as usual and remarked that the spirits had gone. ' Stop !' said Mr. Sothern. ' they have not gone. They are still present, and I hear them at this moment distinctly, ' Sure enough, the raps were immediately repro- duced in a louder and more emphatic manner than we had ever heard them before. ' I be- lieve I can do even better,' said Sothern, without crackinc a smile. ' We'll have th& spirit rap out " Yankee Doodle," aid " God Save the Queen." ' " The poor medium almost fainted. Yon never saw any one so much cut up. There- upon Sothern proceeded to give intelligent answers to all the questions propounded, and mystified us more completely than we had been before. When he finished he turn- ed to the company and said : ' Now you see for yourselves— this woman is an ar- rant humbug. ' From that time on, he pro- duced the most wonderful eflfects. I don't know how he did it, but perhaps he will tell you himself. "I remember that one day at dinner everything on the table commenced dancing, until at last the table itsclt moved ofif around the room in a genuine can-can. On another occasion, Mr. Tom Hind, the husband of Mrs. Knight, who has lately been playing with John Brougham, said : • My dear sir, I trust you don't expect me to believe any of this nonsense. ' ' I don't care whether j ou do or not,' said Mr. Sothern, I only know there it is. ' They then sat down, and in less than half an hour Hind was sobbing bitterly before everybody, and fancying that the spirit of his father, and that of his dend brother, were answering his q:uestions. He said he even felt them clasp his hands and knees, and smooth his hair. Among other things, he asked his father if he was unhap>^ py on account of an estrangement which ex- isted between himself and a living brother. The spirit told him ' Yes,' and recommended a reconciliation, which Hind then and there promised, although it was a brother who had injured him, and the concession should have come from that side of the house, ' ' Another day Joe Jeflferscn came into the place and said : ' You may talk fx> me for a year, but can't make me believe that there is anything spiritual about this thing.' The words were scarcely out of his mouth before the chair on which he was sitting commenc- ed to move. Joe sat there, however, and waa carried back and forth with astonish- ment depicted on every feature. I think he willfremember that incident to his dying day» " Sothern was always full of his practical jokes at that time, just as he is now. One night a very respectable old Irish woman, who did our washing, came into the room. " ' Good evening, Mrs. McCarthy,' said he,, ' I hope yon are very well ! But who in the world is that with you V " ' Wid me !' said the astonished woman, ' why nobody, snr«. ' " " ' Yes, there is a ic«n behind you ; and it's your husband. ' " ' Me husband ! Shure, why he's dead, sir, close on to twinty year. ' ABOUT SOTHERN. 4« ' We'll have th» •odle,"aid "God oat fainted. Too I cut up. There- It give intelligent ions propounded, mfiletely than we a hnifhed he turn- d said : ' Now s woman ia an ar- I time on, he pro- effects. I don't erhaps he will toll e day at dinner nmeuced dancing, moved off around ;an. On another the husband of tely been playing : ' My dear sir, 3 to believe any of care whether j ou rn, ■ I only know down, and in less .8 sobbing bitterly ncying that the hat of his dend lis questions. He isp his hands and ir. Among other if he was unhap* gement which ex- a living brother. »nd recommended id then and there I brother who had. 3sion should have house. son came into the y talk to me for a believe that there this thine.' The his mouth before sitting commeno- e, however, and th with astonish- ture. I think he t to his dying day.. II of his practical i he is now. One }ld Irish woman, I into the room. cCarthy.'saidhe,, But who in the tonished wornan^ behind you ; and why he's dead. " ' It makei n 1 difference, Mr*. McCarthy ; there he stands as pl>>:n as the ten fingers before me ;' and S.- hern proceeded iu an off-hand way to Jt.onue the dead man with the utmost accuracy. " ' But let me see,' said Sothet^i, ' where did he die ? That's curious ! L die in Europe ? No. In Asia ? No. litland ? No. In America ? No ;' then suddenly looking up :• ' Why, did he dit, at sea ?' The words were no sooner out of his mouth than the woman went down on her knees in a atate of fright, and clasping her hands, exclaimed : "God bless yer kind heart, sir, but for heaven's sake kape him where he is; don't let him come back.' " ' But I can't help it,' said the joker, with a mysterious and solemn air, ' there he •tands right by your side, smoking a pipe.' " The poor woman rolled over in a dead faint, and it was some minutes before we could restore her to consciousness. When ahe left, Sothern kindly gave her a live-dol- lar bill and told her not to be alarmed, for her husband would never disturb her again. The fun of it was, that in the course of •previous conversation with the washer- woman, she herself had repeated all the circumstances connected with her husband, «nd he, remembering them, had adroitly availed himself of the opportunity for one -of his practical jests. " On another night, in the presence of a •company who had assembled to see these wonderful spiritual manifestations, he brought up the ghosts of several departed people, in blue flames, in red flames, and yellow flames ; and— would you believe it?— there were those present who imagined that they actually saw the spirits of their rela- tives and frienda. Of course, it was only a GOOD DEEDS. " On a certain occasion, one of onr ser- vants—a girl named Julia— who had con- cealed her few savings in a boot, acciden- tally threw it 'ato the fire, and a good deal of the money /as destroyed. Mr. Sothern, as soon as he found it out, not only gave her a sum to replace a portion of her loss, but insisted on going over the barrel of ashes, where the debris had been thrown -which he did with his own hands— and there recovered a considerable number of ithe bills, although in a damaged state. Taking them to a friend of his, however, who was a broker, he succeeded in irattina good money for all the bills that could be (recognized. The poor girl was overwhelmed with gratitude. Acts of this kind were everyday events of his private life, and I only mention an incident so simple because it illustrates his character, RESCUING A RUNAWAY. "During thot jteriod a singular incident occurred in connection with the daughter of quite a distinguished public official. It had been announced in the papers of the day that she had run away dressed in boys' clothes One evening Mr. Sothern came home in a state of great excitement, saying that while at the house of a friend of his who was a medium, he had obHerved what seemed to be a boy of effeminate appearance, and that recalling the circumstances which had been made public, he dtterniined to watch the unknown person closely, and if possible learn her history. Before the sitting was over his suspicions were confirmed by the dis- covery that the supposed boy was iu reality a young gir). She made a frank, full con- feseion to him, and the next day he sought her out in her lodgings, and finding her to be in a state of destitution, supplied her wants paid her bills, and eventually secured her return to her home. It appears that she was in the habit of going to the medium's house to consult the spirit of her mother and if possible find out through this means the whereabouts of the man by whom she had been deceived, and whose life it was her intention to take. I saw the jjirl myself and she told nie that her new found friend had more convinced her of the error of her ways than all the clergymen in Boston could have done. ONLY AN ACTOR. "Coming home from the National Theatre one night, Sothern went through the unique expenence of being robbed. As he was pass- ing along Merrimac-street he was seized by three men, dragged into an alley, and gagged While searching for his valuables, the light of a bull's eye lantern being thrown u^on his face, he was at once recognized as 'Stuart, the actor,' One of the fellows said : Oh, let him go ; he is one of the profession ; a public man ; he isn't worth going through, anyhow.' Whereupon they restored to Turn his ring and money, and making him promise not to divulge the affair, they released him, and he was aBowed to proceed. LAURA KEENE, "While in New York, and before he made any hit, he had a dispute with ----- - — -i~ cnRc^rnjtijj aoiHc inviai attair at rehearsal, and she became highly excited. After a brief quarrel on the atoge she retired to her dressing-room, and still angry, sent for him and commenced to rate TALKS WITH, A-ND s him roundly. Sothern uid to her : ' Stop t Laura—stop just a minute !' ami advanoiog to the light, deliberately turned it down. " ' What do you mean by that, sir ?' said ■he, in a rage. " 'Oh, nothing,' rejoined Mr. Sothern, ' but you have always been so lovely to m<> that I can't bear to look upon your beautify face when you are in r passion. Now, go on !' She never said another word of un- kiodnosB to him diiiiugher lifetime. " I was trying to recall," writes Mrs. Vin- cent, in a postsoiipt, "where I heard this anecdote, and I now remember that it was toid me by Miss Laura Keene herself, and she added that he was ' the most impudent, audacious, good-for-nothing, good-hearted fellow,' she ever met. That was her esti- mate of him when he was young, and the friendship formed during those early days continnecl until her death." SOTHERN AND HIS FISHING BOOTS. Every summer Sothern and a party of friends are in the habit of going to Canada on a fishing and hunting jaunt. The hrst day the party wont out last years to "cast a fly," after their arrival at the salmon grounds, Sothern and George Holland went up the stream to find a pool that looked " tishy. " A desirable spot was soon reached, and taking their stations some sixty or seventy yards apart, they began their en- deavours to hook a salmon. The river was quite shallow in places— with a tremendously swift current, and icy cold. Both wore India rubber boots, of the kind commonly worn by hshermen who have to wade in water,coming well up the leg in- side,and on the outside quite up to the waist. They were held in place by a loop on the out- side of each leg, at the waist, a belt around the body being passed through these loops. Sothern, however, seemed to have it in his mind that the boots were waist high all around, at least if one may judge from what happened. Qeorge saw him commence to wade in, for the purpose of reaching a certain pool with Lis "fly;" but being busy with his own work, for the moment paid no further atten- tion. Directly, however, Sothern was heard growling about something, and then followed a series of extraordinary ejaculations : — "Ouch! Oh! A-h-h-h-h ! Blank— blanketty— blfiak— blank— oouch ! I" And Sothern acted as if he had a tit of ik^ shiver- ing ague. George ^ut down his rod, and goin^ to the edge of the water, near where aotflern was wading, said : "Hallo, Ned, what's the matter ?'* observing at the same time that Sothern Mas in, pretty deep water for a man whose rubber boots only reached h»l( wa^ up his thighs. " The matter!" says Sothern, "Ooouoh I Ah-h-hh II Oh I Blazes— Oh t— blaukefety —blank— the blanked man that sold m» these boots — Ooooh I" " Why," said George, "what's the matter with your boots T" " Matter with 'em, "replied Sothern, "why the blank things are all full of blanketty- blank holes. Ooooh— Ahh-h-h 1 Blank it — I'm freezing" — and he waded out. It appears that he had gone on wading un- til the water leached the top of his biMtts, and commenced to run down inside. Ned looked to see how high they reached, but in- stead of investigating between his legs, he looked nutmde at his hips — where the top of the bu its were a gnoa six inches from the top of the v. ater — and instantly came to the conclusion that tho boots were rotten, or something of the kind, and that the H&ter was pouring through instead of into them. When Holland understood what had really happened, he began in the wildest way to roli over and over on the groun atructed every man with precisely the lanie physical machinery, no two individuals amongst millions of human beings present exactly the same facial expri'snion. "The remark, is equally true of the contiguration of the head, and that is one reason," said the artist, " why I have more or less faith iu the science of phrenology." " If that is the case," Mr. Sothern remark- ed, "and if you aro an artist in skiilis, just run your fingers through my hair and tell me something about myself." " And keep back nothing," interpoaed Judge B. " We want to know what manner of man this is, who does Dundreary one day, drunken David Garrick on another, and the ' Crushed Tragedian ' on a third, and equally loses his identity in each part." "Yes," rejoined Sothern, "keep back nothing; pitohinto me right and left." The sculptor thereupon proceeded with hiR cranial investigation. " In the first place," said he, " Mie general indications of the brain are, a decided predominence of the mental over the phyaical. You are, there- fore, more or less swayed by impulse. You are likewise excessively nervous and impa- tient, although when at rest delicate in your instincts and intuitions, susceptible, emo- tional, and sympathetic. The brain is not a large one, and I observe from the manner in which you blush that there is a tendency of blood to the head centre. Physically I note i also that you have a full, deep chest, with a I corresponding voice, indicative of healthy lungs, and are, therefore, of an elastic, buoy ant, and animated liisposition. I should say you were capable of great vigour, in all the mental and bodily functions, enabling you to throw off a large amount i»tiv6 memory, and ready flow of ideas. You love action for its own sake, are wide-awake, versatilein talent, flexible and suggestive. Excitability is largely daveloped, for whilst yoH combine promptness, judgment and afl'ubility, you are extremely Husoeptible to and intensely ex- cited by trilies. One hour you are in the attic, th« next in the cellar -extremes com- mon to nil nervous temperaments. Ama- , tiveness is large, and you strongly attract and are attracted by the opposite sex; easily win their affectionate regards and kindle their love, although innate dolicaov would not allow yon to ally yourself with'one not possessing a thoroughly refined manner. The love of children is also finely developed, and as regards your own, whilst you are ambitious to acquire property, it is more for the purpose of laying by a ic.rtune for them than for the pleasureits possehsion may afford to you. Still you love them too well to spoil them." "True :" interpolated Mr. Sothem. " Another feature which I notice in this connection is your dislike to rolitude. In friendships you are warm and cordial. Be- nevolence is large, and coupled with alimen- tiveneas indicates hospitality, a love of the social banquet, and (h light in setting the best before friends. l hese faculties being combined with mirthfulness, ideality, wit and humour, give a lively and jocose turn to conversation, and are calculated to raider you the life of a table. You are a frighful joker yourself, but keenly feel the successful jests of others when you are victimized your- self." •^ Sothern— "No! no 1 I enjoy being sold I" , •• ' » "Your sense of attachment to home and home surroundings is very great, and you are not satisfied unless you have a place, whether it be a house or a mere aleepiug-room in which to expend this feeling. However much of a cosmopolite you may be now. you are eagnrly anticipating the time when you can settle down. Still, notwithstanding the desire to pi.Hsess a permanent habitation, the memory of larly friends.and the happy houM you have Hpent, and a wish to enjoy again the scenes of the past, will always remain strong within you and tend to draw you from your seclusion." "The selfish propensities," continued the sculptor, " are moderately large, that is to say, you will always take good care of Num- ber One. You hsve the utmost love and te- nacity of life, and w«nld cling to it with desperation, struggling determinedly against disease and death, and yet, withal', are not destitute of the moral courage enabling yon to meet fate unf^.nchingly. In time of dan- mind, coolness ind intrepidity." "Yes," observed Judge B. turning to the gentlemen present— " that was illustrated byth at tl porti ' burnt ! atthi 1 ing 1 i scare 1 "C i wasn 1 ^»iy ' 1 aroun is no outse 1 "A % inoide i diftgn i almos i 1 ixall, f 3 felt" BiL 1 but w 1 Jui 1 BiL ', any bo 1 Phi 1 baste 1 perha ; 1 BiL ^ f were < y of am ',, thing inqnin d .. /^i a M— is one 3 everyt ABOUT SOTHKRN. rhilat yon combine (I afl'uhility, you »re I and inteouly ex- iour you are in the Iftr— extremes com- per»menta. Am»- 9U Rtrortgly attract oppoaiteaex; easily egarda and kindle tte dulicaoy would irself with one not f refined manner. HO finely developed, n, whilst you are lerty, it is more for \ fi>rtune for them assebsion may afford 3 them too well to Mr. Sothem. uh I notice in this 3 to tolitude. In I and cordial. B«- upled with alimen- lity, a love of the ght in setting the 680 faculties being ness, ideality, wit and jocose turn to Iculated to render You are a frighful ! feel the successful ire victimized yoor- I enjoy being ment to home and r great, and you are ve a place, whether 9 sleepiug-room in eeling. However Li ma^ be now. you be time when you >twithHtanding the lent habitation, the nd the happy hours ah to enjoy again tvill always remain d to draw you from is," continued the ly large, that ii to good care of Num- tmost love and te- [ cling to it with termmedly against et, withal, are not irage enabling yon In time of dan. dityr" ^''^^" "' I B. turning to the it was illustrated by the remark of one of the firemen on duty at the theatre the other night, when some portion of the scenery was ignited by a gas burner. He exclaimed, ' my heavens 1 look at the coolness of the " Crushed," he's play- ing aa unconcernedly aa if there wasn't a scare within a mile of him.' " "Oh I well," retorted Mr. 8hthern, "there wasn't much to be frightened al>out. It was only a yard or two of flame, and good men around you te take care of it. fiesidea, there i» nothing like repressing a panic at the outset. " " Anyhow," oontinued the sculptor, " the incident ia a tribute to the truth of my diiignosis. "The bump of combativeness stands out almost like a knot, and by-thebye, take it all in all, i'li's about the knottiest head I ever felt" BriXY Florknce— Oh, you naughty mon, but we'll "set down (n) aught in malice." JuiH»E B.— I Khjh for a rest BiLLV Fu)rkn(;k— What would JSed do if anybody should insult "the Crushed " ? Phrknolooist— Knock him down, sir ! baste the fiend until he apologized, and perhaps the next day invite him to dinner. Biu-y FiiORBN<;B--Ye8, I remember we were once travelling out West, when a brute of a man — a six-footer — on the cars did some- thing to excite the ire of Ned. I think he attempted to occupy a reserved portion of the car chartered by us and refused to move, accompanying his • fusal with a torrent of ofifenstve langi < 'loreupon Ned moved on him lik< utreak ot animated lightning, had +iie feiiow on the floor before he could say ' Robinson, polished him off splen- didly. ai*ggwl him to the door of the oar, pumuellecl him again, and when he kiokad him off tfie platform the man looked aa thuuins of material things e value of property, 8. Had your atteo' i direction, your con- 1 that you would be ff mechauioal opera- em ptatioh is ' always B and improve your t to be satisfied with n by the best of au- 3U, or the conspany, bservation, and have >n-sen8e tact, which 1 almost any of the which you may h» seeming to do so; you ig which people say lerceive beauty, per- lave a keen eye for nory of streets, locali- ir location of names rate, hence I fancy tx)ok as a matter of said Mr. Sothern, '* if [ should quickly be it in this group of or- y hand; is one which efer to thatwhioh ex' system, arrangement, rho obiterve business n yourself. You ar» and frequently tako thines around you-in is absolutely worth. more inherent than in a business man — irchant, engineer, or lu would have been al- ive to those around most punotilioas ob- This same sense of you on the stage and isseverything is ezact- atisiied and will make and over again, the ', until every word is every act done in oon- a conceive to be the tece. IN," said Mr. Sothern. 1 at rehearsal T" «h-h. icnlptor, "bnt if there t your head that is am uniy teilius you 1 what the conforma- a of your head indi- Mk. Sothern.— You couldn't be more exsct ia your obaervations if you were one of my stage friends, for if there is anything that 1 do demand in my profession, it is the utmost nicety in the rendition of the re- spective parts; still I don't think I am so bad as Mr. Forrest was on one occasion, when the property man failing to have some bJood at hand which had to be usetl in the part, the tragedian exclaimed, " Damn ynu, no blood ! S'death ! I will make some," and with that he cracked him on the nose and drew a copious supply from nature's own font, then rubbing liis bands in the gore, rusLe 1 on the stage. " By the way, Mr. Phrenologist, you were speaking a minute or two ago abr^ut my bnmpof locality, and you made a mistake. I don't believe there is a man in this room who loses himself so quickly as I do. You may think it very strange, but if I have lost my- self once between Delmonico's and the Gramercy Park Hotel,! have done so a dozen times. The other night, for instance, I wan- dered round the adjoining 8quare,coming out at the same place everv time, without the slightest knowledjre of where liwas, and if a friendly policeman hadn't put me on the right track, I believe I skbuld have been go- ing around until daylight." *' Wine and woodcock !" suggested the judge. "No;" said the phrenologist, "it is not dne to a deficiency in your organ of locality, but to the fact that your concentrativeness is largely d«veloped, and you were absorbed in thought. I can well understand that you might lose yourself in broad daylight when BO engaged. Upon the whole, Mr. Sothern, I should say that you were naturally absent, minded. Your literary faculties are fair, iho.';;h I can't say that you have a passion for litarary pursuits. Your memory is re- tentive, and is an nnusually large cupboard of evenU in which humor, wit, and mirthful- ness are principally stored. A pun would strike you with more force than a pious jest. If time 'permitted you to work in such a di- reotion,yon would excel in fiction. In fact, you have a «ood general memory, by which 1 mean one that retains aneod.>tes, particu- lars, friends, the general appearance and eonversation of those friends, and the ability to associate them with facts thai may have transpired." ThbJudok.— Seriously speaking, what do jrou mean by memory T Is it a thing ? Has It a material existence T TftK AR'rrnr — K» It-'m • n>f..>j..t» ~. ing out ot a mysterious combination of the human faculties. You inhale an odor, for instance, or hear a strain of melody, or catch a passing expression of a face, and it at once recalls associations that have been buried in the cells of the brain perhaps half a genera- tion, or even since babyhood. I know in my own case (and I presume it is true of every one else), that in the most sudden and mysterious manner, events and inciilents that ocouiTcd while I was yet behind a pina- fore have reappeared to me in my latter years with a vividness that was almost start- ling. Thr Judok.— Is it not true, then, that the miudis like a photographic negative, whiuh once having received its picture retains the object with a possibility of reproduction by the mere accident of association at any time through life ? Mr. Sothern.— Gentlemen, look here ; you're getting into metaphysical depths, for it is one of those things no fellow can find out The Artist.— Just one minute, gentle- men. There is another phase to that ques- tion. All life consists of motion. As the pebble dropped into the ocean produces a ripple that never dies, as the passage of our boilies through the air stirs its molecules into never-ending motion, may it not be equally true that these very thoughts and impres- sions of which we have been speaking, no matter whether they found expression at the birtli of civilization or later on, will some- time and somewhere be reproduced upon life's great photographic plate, so that in the great uncertain future we may perhaps hear even the sounds of the clashing swords at Marathon 1 Mr. MoCnllough at this juncture remarked that he was "not doing heavy tragedy just now, "and taking his hat excused himself with very evident signs of disgust. "Now go on, Mr. Phrenolgist," said Sothern. PHRKMOLoaiST.— Let me see; what were we talking about ? Oh I your memory. VfM, M Jiardwell Slote would say, N. C — uuff oed. Time and tune are tolerably good with you, but yon are not by any means an intaitive musician ; you appreciate tender and sympathetic music more than that , bich is classical. You would rather hear the fa- miliar songs yon heard at your mother's knee, played upon a street organ, than lis* ten to one of Beethoven's symphonies ren- dered by the most magnificent orchestra in Christendom. Your susceptibilities are so fine in this respect that yon are tormented by discord. As I said before, however, you show more taste than skill. In laii)i;uag« yr.~. Pre very ciprcsst-.-c, Sacnt and copioos, gesticulate naturally, but not much, and are at times spontaneously eloquent. Mr. Sothern.— That" s a mistake. Lot it get outside this room, and they would have TALKS WITH AND s.i me making vpeechM on every stage and at every dinuer-table in the land. I am never eloquent. Thk Artist. — Then Providence has made a aiiatake in your head. Perhaps you don't believe that you are a critic, but you are. There are few men who can better analyze, illustrate, classify, compare, or draw infer- ences, than you can. You have a nice power of discerning new truths, influences, possi- bilities and effects, especially in connection with your profession; hence, by reason of your constructivesB and ideality, you create originals of character which no one, that I am aware of, has yet been able to imitate. As a case in point, I recall the manner in which you re-wrote the love scene in Tom Robertson's comedy, which was the subject of some correspondence a little whife ago ; and also portions of David Qarrick and the Orvshed Tragedian. Judos. — Yes; and Dundreary, toa " Yes," added the sculptor, "and it illus- trates the correctness of my conclusiocis, to wit : that by reason of this nicety ot' oompre- hensitiu added to strong individuality, con- centrativeneas, large language, and poetic sensibilities, you can frequently improve upon and refine that which has come from a master hand." " By the way," said the judge, " speaking about Ned's invention, did you ever hear about his dog Wasp, who had the habit, pe- culiar to all the species, of being exceedingly inquisitive with reference to their neigh- bours ? Ned at last, becoming annoyed at the persistence of this canine Investigation, one day went into a store and ordered a leather muzzle to be made with a fine cambric needle protruding from tha snout. You can imagine the rest. That little terrier never made aay more close acquaintances. In three days there wasn't a dog in the whole ueic^- boarfaood but knew Wasp to his entire satis- fixation, and the moment the brutes saw the little fellow approach would stick their tails between their legs, and move off with a speed that was quite as astonishing to the little pup as it was suggestive that at some time or other they hsd been either badly soared or badly hurt. Even after the muz- zle had been removed Wasp languished for a long time from the want of friends among hia kind ; at any rate he was thoroughly oumd of his famiUarity." " Yes, I have taken out a patent for that iaveation,' ' said Mr. Sothern. " There are but one or two more things that I wish to oommont upon, and then we will lusoend this exaioination. Yon have onuiualfy large perceptive faculties and form a correct judgment of character almost intuitively. Generally, yon trust first im* pressions, and are seldom mistaken in men or women. You notice all the littl^t thinn they do when least suspected, and are quick to observe the slightest exhibition of a laok of retiuement. You take more kindly to those who are delicate, gentle and graceful, than to people who live in a coarser mould. I think you like to study character, and once having made a friend ' grapnle to him with hooks of stael.' You needn't blush when I tell you that coupled with this pe< culiar gift is the disposition to be thoroughly agreeable, to make aacritices for those around yon, to conciliate everybody, and to wound only when in your judgment it is absolutely necessary, though I must confess that at times, with your imperious nature, the hot words bound to your lips occasionally, and cause regreta that are quite as painful to yourself as they may have been to the sub- ject of your passion. You never can be a' hypocrite." It was agreed at this juncture that the subject of uie seance had been sufficiently diagnosed and flattered, and by comnuK> consent conversation was diverted into otb- and less personal channels. APPEARANCES ARE OFTEN DECEl'i- FUL. " What makes him limp ao ? " asked an acquaintance while Sothern was personating Dundreary a few weeks ago. The reply waa that it was probably to give greater effect totiie character: that, in fact, "it waa in the play." Nine-tenths of the people be* lieve that he makes it, and had it not been for Phiiai£elphia, a large brewery and a fero- cious dog, the seoret might have never been discovored. After Sothern ceased putting his trust in Providence (R. I.) he went to Philadelphia. Three days after, ha was walking through one of the streeta and just passing a large brewery, when a ferocioas dog \niioh had been watehing his slow and stealthy approach, sprang towards him and faatenea his teeth into the right leg. Half a dozen persons, including the owner of the dog, immediately went to Sothem's assistance, and after a long struggle suc- ceeded in getting the dog away. They ex- pected to find ihe leg severely lacerated, but what was their surprise when they found the leg to be aoork one 1 Mr. Wm. J. Florsnce status that the above is a true story, '^ by m large majority. " HOW MY "LORD DUNDREARY" WAS CAUGHT NAPPING BY THE "MEMBER FROM COHOSH." A number of boni romaradf» sat down a ABOUT SOTHERN. a t of character almost , yoa trust first im< om mistaken in men I all the littlv thing* peoted, and are quick ; exhibition of a laok take more kindly to gentle and graceful, e in a cnarser would, itudy character, and riend ' grapple to him You needn't blush >apled with this pe- ition to be thoroughly iKces for those around ybody, and to wound ;ment it is absolutely nust confess that at iouB nature, the hot ips occasionally, and e quite as painful to ave been to the sub* You never can be a' tiis juncture that the had been sufficiently ed, and by oommor> as diverted into otb- lels. E OFTEN DECEi'i- L. limp so?" asked an hem was personating 3 ago. The reply was bo give greater effect , in fact, "it waain hs of the people be- I, and had it not be«a ;e brewery and a fero- lieht have never been >tnern ceased patting :e (R. I.) he went to days after, he was f the streets and juat iry, when a ferocious watching hia slow and sprang towards him ith into the right leg. including the owner sly went to Sothem's a long struggle suo- 1 dog away. They ex- leverely lacerated, but e when they found the Mr. Wm. J. Fiorance B a true story, '^ by a HJNDREARY"WAB ?ING BY THE OM COHOSH." •omaradft sat down a few months ago to a dinner given in Cali- fornia, to Mr. sothern. W. J. Florence was one of the party, and relates the following incident : " Sothern, as usual, was the life of the company, and for hours entertained his hearers with a recital of hia varied accom- plishments. He was the prophet and the guide in every subject broached, and evidently considered himself a very ' Triton among the minnows.' Painting he seemed at home in. He had sculpture at hia fingers' ends, and the moat difficult features in the line arts or the practical purauita of labour were as nothing to his animated repository of gen- eral knowledge. He had, he saidj studied painting for long years under teachers at Naples and Dusaeldorf, and had only relin- quiahed his seat at the easel when the great- eat living masters pronounced him their peer. He apoke familiarly of the worka of the ancient Egyptians, and traced the styles of all the succeeding nations down to the present day. " In a little while the auljoct turned to war and its weapons, and Soti.sin, to the urprise of all present, appeared well versed in needle-guns, destructive bomb-shells, and everything pertaining to scientific slaughter. War, he asserted, was familiar to him in all its phases. He had studied gunnery for six J-^ears at Woolwich, England, and had in ater years charged the enemy through clouds of smoke acd showers of lead on many a hard fought field. While speaking of noted military heroes, one of the gentlemen present pointed to a bronze statue of Napo- leon, which occupied a corner on the mantle, and Dundreary immediately launched off into a learned dissertation on the legacies of beau- ty and art which, coming down from the old world, still exist in undecayiug atone. The company listened in astonishment as he told of his long researches into the glories of the antique sculpture which, unlike the pamt- ings of the pagans, were not born to die. "No matter what topic was introduced, Sothern seized and held the fort, until he half convinced his auditors that be was in all re- spects, from his long years of study, more of a peer than a vassal in liis multitudin- ous attainments. Just before the company broke up, however, an unexpected denoue- ment came. Florence, who, like ' Mr. Burchell ' in the ' Vicar of Wakefield, ' had been listening attentively to his friend's re- markable narrative, noting down his poiqts now and then, instead of exclaiming "fudge" with Ooldamith n hero, suddenly asked : ' Ned, may I ask how old you are ?' " 'Certainly, my dear fellow," said Sothern, amid a breathless silence among the guests. • On my last birthday I was forty-four. ' " ' Oh, indeed,' replied the ' Member from Cohosh,' with a quizzical expression on his countenance, ' then I must have made a mis- take in my reckoning. I have been putting down the number of years you said you spent in acquiring your different branches, and I make your age exactly ninety-six.' "This remark brought down a roar of laughter on the head of Dundreary, who, however, not at all disconcerted, ordered a fresh supply of champagne to drink the health of his friend from Cohosh." Some two months after the above occur- rence, at a breakfast given by Florence at the Fifth Avenue Hotel, New York, the at- tention of the company was attracted to the magnificent set of Sevres which decorated the table. "Ahl" said Sothern, quickly, "I re* cognize at a glance this aet, as belonging to the period of Louis XV. Modem Sevres do not show such nicety of colour or finish." He then began to tell what he knew of the ceramic art, remarking that he had spent some four years in its study. Before he had fairly reached the vitala of his subject, his eye fell upon the "Member from Cohosh," who, with card in hand, was about to repeat his note-taking. Disconcerted at the sight, for several who attended the dinner in California were also present at the brea k- fast, Sothern stopped short in his narrative, and made the best of a bad bargain by ex- claiming : "Billy, put that down on your card, and make me one hundred and five years old at once. " Florence took him at hia word, and my Lord Dundreary vowed that he would never display his knowledge again, unless assured that Florence was N. I. T. — not in town. FUN IN FRANCE. "When we. went to Paris," said Mr. Raymond, " to play the ' American Cousin,' the only lady in the company who made a hit was the one who performed the part of May Meredith, In it she has two dances, which apparently anmsed the gay French- men. The impresario of the theatre during these Terpsichorean exercises used to sit every night in one ol the lower boxes, and watch the young lady with a great deal of interest. It struck Sothern and myself that it would be an excellent opi^ortunity to have a little fun, especially as she was inclined to Im un- necessarily conceited. Accordingly we had letters sent from every little country town ;« !?..»„» „ leased. You should have then seen how tliose two French soldiers went for Sothern, mad as hornets at being imposed upon, and the manner in which he dinappeared down the back stairs into a convenient hiding place. Fortunately Sefton was enabled to appease the indignation of the irate French- men, and in a few minutes Dundreary was permitted to come out of his retirement, and the play went on happily without the dis- comhtura of the audience. A DESPERATE AMERICAN. " During this engagement we had a fright- ful fight one night, and produced a corres- ponding scare among the members of the company. The celebrated bill-poster of Paris and London, VViiling, by name, was in the green-room and made some remark aa coming from Sothern concerning me which I purposely construed into a most^grievous in- sult. Dashing impetuously into Sothern'« dressine-room, which was just off the green- room, I demanded in a loud tone that could be heard by everybody, instant satisfaction or his life, whispering to Ned to keep up the joke. Always as quick as lightning to take ft hint, he presently emerged, kicking me out of his apartment into the centre of the now tho- roughly alarmed people in the green-room. I rushed off to get a knife swearing vengeuce. Everybody appealed to me to be quiet and tried to hold me back, while I contended that nothing but his life's blood \yould wipe out the insult. Of course the play had to continue, but the actors were almost afraid to go on the sta^e, looking on me as a wild American who, with bowie knife in hand, was about to commit a horrible murder. Meanwhile Sothern had quietly sent a note telling me to slip into his dressing-room again, get some stage blood there, lock the door, and that as soon as he came off we would have a ' time.' I followed the in^tructiont and after the act he came down aiid joined me. The '^eo'^le in the Teen-room w^-rtf on the alert, and between Ned and myself we gave their listening ears the bene- fit of a full chorus of moans, groans, im- precations, struggles, and other sounds of ' ABOUT SOTHBRN. 55 to reo«ive a recall as icture, I Btrnok t' e aper. Before I knew ed from behind by a . bodily off the stage. t did ngt know what equally inthedaik. could not make any more I struggled me held me iu bis en Mr. Sefton, ths xA made hia appear- tters that I was re- ave then seen how rs wenc for Sothern, ; imposed upon, and 16 disappeared down I conveuitint hiding Iton Wits enabled to of the irate Frenuh- iites Dundreary was f his retirement, and yr without the di8> e. AMERICAN. fient we had a fright- I produced a corres- :he members of the ated bill-poster of ngt l>y name, was in ade some remark as icerning me which I ) a most^grievous in- lo'isly into Sothern'a as just off the green- loud tone that could instant satisfaction ) Hed to keep up the IS lightning to take a ;ed, kicking me out of jntre of the now tho- in the gre:en-room. I i swearing vengeuce. > me to be quiet and while I contended 's blood ^/ould wipe Be the play bad to 3 were almost afraid Dg ou me as a wild owie knife in hand, a horrible murder. quietly sent a note dressing-room again, here, lock the door, le came oil we would red the instruction* me down aikd joined Te6D-rooni wtra oa m Ned and myself ig ears the bene- moans, groans, ixn- ind other sounds of 'diatresa, among which every now and then my knife could be hoard sticking into some conveniently soft aub&tance that sounded very like a human body. Willing, whose remarks had been the otnise of all this coti- motion, frightened almost to death, rushed after tlie gmdarmea. When the latter came they demanded entrance in French. A low groan was the only response. Believing that one or both of us was nearly dead they burst open the door. Willing was the Krst man to rush in, and was followed by the soldiei^ aud such of the con.pany as were not ou the stage. You can imagine their feelings when they sa^»- Sothern and myself covered with blood lying upon the floor, with the gory knife near by, the entire apartment in con- fusion Mjd bearing evidences of a desperate struggle " 'Poor fellow,' said one, 'has he got a pulse?' 'He must be dying,' was the re- mark of another. 'Go for some stretchers.' ' What awful fighters theae Americans are ! ' ' Oon't touch the blade I ' and other similar expressions were also to be heard. " Willing, with a horror-stricken face, stooped over and felt of Sothern. Ned partially raised his head, aud feebly whispered : ' A glass of champagne— quick.' The poor bill-postur didn't stop for a glass, but knocked off the neck of a bottle, and in his haste, to the great disgust of Dundreary, nearly choked liim to death as he poured it down. At this instant I lifted my head in the saiae way, and, in a faint kind of way, ejaculated, ' Some wiae, too ! ' Then we both rose up on our elbows and asked for liiore wine, and from that position to our feet, until finally, with a hearty laugh at t..e success of our joke, we invited the vhole party to join us in a potation. The practical gendarmes were the onlj' ones who didn't aee any fun in being 'sold' in this manner, although they took their share of the champagre, and I think that some of the English actors th*iniselvfg, never, to this day, have learned to' appreciate the pranks of the two Americana. " THE DUNDREARY LETTEB- On the occasion of one of the conversaziones at a pleasant dinner party, Mr. Raymond related the following incident connected with the Dundreary letter. He says: "It was written by Mr. Sothern in New Orleans while waiting for the cars, the first draft being hurriedly made on hia knee on the back of an envelope. Sothern, Uoweve' , was dubious with rofcrencc to vcading it for the first time in ao large a city aa New Orleans, and aa we were going to Mobile, he determined to try the experiment there «n the ocoaaion of my benefit. He did so, and ita success waa instant«round a marble- top table, which was placed in the centre of the apartment. On the table were a num- ber of glasses, two very large bottles, and five lemons. A sprightly young gentleman attempted to crack a joke about spirits be- ing confined in the bottles, but the company frowned him down, and for once Mr. Sotnern had a sober audience to begin with. "There was a good deal of curiosity re- garding the object of the gathering, but no one was able to explain. Each gentleman testified to the fact that Mr. Sothern 's agent had waited upon him, and solicited his pre- sence at a little exhibition to be given by the actor, not of a comical nature. " Mr. Sothern himself soon after appeared, and, after shaking hands with the party, thus addressed them : " ' Gentlen.en, I have invited you here this evening to witness a few manifestations, demonstrations, tests, or whatever you choose to call theni, which I have accidentally dis- covered that I am able to perform. "'I am a fire-eater, as it were. [Ap- plause.] " ' I used to dread the fire, having been scorched once when an innocent child. [A laugh. ] " Mr. Sothern (severely) — ' I hope there will be no levity here, and I wish to say now that demonstrations of any kind are liable to upset me, while demonstrations of particular kinds may upset the audience. ' " Silence and decorum being restored, Mr. Sothern thus continued : " • Thirteen weeks ago, while walking up Greenwich street, iu l-scW York, I ateppcd into a store to buy a cigar. To show you there was no trick about it, here are cigars out of the same box from which I selected the one I that day lighted.' [Here Mr. Sothern passed aronnd » box of toletwble cigars. ] " ' Well I I stepped to thj little hang- ing gas-jet to light it, and, having done so, stood contemplatively holding the cigar and the gas jet in either hand, thinking what a saving it would be to smoke a pipe, when, in my absent-mindedness, I dropped the cigar and put the gas-jet into my mouth. Strange as it may appear, I felt no pain, and stoodf there holding the thing in my mouth and puffing until the man in charge yelled out to me that I was swallowing his gas. Then I looked up, and, sure enough, thera I was pulling away at the slender fiame that came from the glass tube. •' ' I dropped it instantly, and felt of my mouth, but noticed no inconvenience or iin- pleasant sen^iation M'hatever. ' ' ' What do you mean by it ?" said the proprietor. " ' As I didn't know what I meant by it I couldn't answer, so I picked up my cigar and went home. Ones there I tried the experi- ment again, and in doing so I found that not only my mouth, but my hands and face, in- deed, all of my body, was proof against fite. I called on a physician, and he examined me, and reported nothing wrong with my flesh, which appeared to be in its normal condition. I said nothing about it publicly, but the fact greatly surprised me, and I hav& invited you here to-night to witness a few experiments. ' " Saying this, Mr. Sothern, who had lit a cigar while pausing in his speech, turned the fire eud into his mouth and sat down, smok- ing unconcernedly. " ' I suppose yon wish to give us the fire- test," remarked one of the company. •• Mr. Sothern nodded. "There was probably never a gathering more d /foundered than thut present in the room. -1 few questions were asked, and and then five gentlemen were appointed to- examine Mr. Sothern's hands, etc. , before he began hia experiments. Having thor- oughly washed the parts that he proposed to subject to the fiauies, Mr. Sothern began by burning his arm, and passing it through the gas-jet very slowly, twice stopping i;he motion and holding it still in the flames. He then picked up the poker with a sort of hook on the end, and proceeded to fidh a small coil of wire from the grate. The wire came out fairly white with heat. Mr. Sothern took the coil in his hands and coolly proceeded to wrap it round his left leg to iiis kucc. Haviiig doao sO, he stood on the- table in the centre of the circle and request- ed the committee to examine the wrappings- and the leg and report if both were there^ The committee did so, and reported in the- s box of tolerable to thj little hang- t, and. having done ily holding the cigar r hand, thinking what I smoke a pipe, when, [1688, I dropped the jet into my mouth, ar, I felt no pain, and he thing in my mouth tan in charge yelled swallowing his gas. , sure enough, ther« I e slender flame that be. tantly, and felt of my inconvenience or un- tever. ean by it V said the what I meant by it I eked up my cigar and lere I tried the experi- ]g so I found that not ny hands and face, in- vas proot against iiie. a, and he examined ling wrong with my to be in its normal ling about it publicly, ■prised me, and I have- ht to witness a few othern, who had lit a bis speech, turned the I and sat down, smok- ish to give us the fire- tho company, d. bly never a gathering in thbt present in the >n8 were asked, and en were appointed to g hands, etc., before ents. Having thor- arts that he proposed i, Mr. Sothern began d passing it through f, twice stopping -the t still in the flames. ! poker with a sort of d proceeded to fl8h a the grate. The wire be with heat. Mr. 1 his hands and coolly round his left leg to le sO, lie Stocti Oil tuc- le circle and request- amine the wrappings- I if both were tnejre^ and reported in the- ABOUT SOTHERN. sr affirmative. " While this was going on, there JwaM a ■mile, almost seraphic in its beauty, on Mk. Sothem's face. " After this an enormous iron, in the shape of a horseshoe, was brought in, and, afte rbe- ing heated red-hot, was placed over his neck and shoulders like a horse-collar, where it cooled, and was taken off without leaving a sign of a bum. " As a flnal test, a tailor's goose was put on the coals, and, after being thoroughly heated, was placed in Mr. Sothern's chair. The latter lighted a fresh cigar, and then coolly took his seat on the goose without the least seeminj inconvenience. During the last exjeriment Mr. Sothern sang in an ex- cellent tone and voice, ' I'm Sitting on the Stile, Mary.' "The qc^^stion now is, were the fifteen auditors of Mr. Sothern fooled and deceived, or was this a genuine manifestation of ex- traordinary power ? Sothern is such an in- veterate joker that he may have put the thing up on the boys for his own amuse- ment ; but if so, it was one of the nicest tricks ever witnessed by yours truly, " One of the Committee. "P.S. — What is equally marvellous to m6 is that the fire didn't bum his clothes where it touched them, any more than his flesh. P. C. "[There is nothing new in this. Mi'. Sotheru has long been knuwn as one of the most expert jugglers in the profession. Some years agoj he gained the soubriquet of the 'Fire King.' He frequently amuses his friends by eating fire, though he long ceased to give public exhibitions. Probably the success of tht> experiments last night were largely owning to the lemons present. There's a good deal of trickery in those same lemons. — Editor Inter-Ocean.]" A EEPORTOEIAL INTERVIEW ON THE SAME SUBJECT. "I presume, Mr. Sothern, you have seen the challenge in this morning's Inter-Ocean. Do you intend to accept it ?" " Well," replied the comedian, with a rather amu«ed expression, " before answer- ing your question dlow me to ring the bell and ask Mr. Hurlbut to step here a mo- ment." The bell was touched, and a few minutes later the proprietor of the Sherman House, looking very sleepy, and attired in a — ;--r t. ) AV- J -1 — 1— jjuijjTTvus uijji-wap, i/priicii LUC tiuur oiuwiy and stood irresolute on the threshold. " Now, look here, Sothern," he said, rais- ing his finger threateningly, and emphasizing very word, "none of your practical jokes on me ! I won't have it. At this hour all peaceably disposed cit — " "See here, dd fellow," said ?>tli«m, taking him by the arm and gently towing him into the room, " there's no sell bera Too serious an affair, my dear boy, altogether too serious, for joking. Look here, read that," he said, showing the challenge. Mr. Hurlbut read the challenge, and sug- gested that he didn't see how it concerned him, and why he should be dragged out of bed at midnight. " But, Mr. Hurlbut," urged Sothern, "we can't proceed with this thing without your consent. Have you any objection to my giving an exhibition of the fire test in these parlours ?" "Most emphatically I have," responded Mr. Hurlbut. " Why, one of my mantel- pieces is utterly ruined with the marks of red-hot horse-shoes, that tailors' goose, and other infernal pieces of iron-mongery which you used the other night. " "But, my dear fellow," Sothern was be* ginniug in a persuasive tone, when Hurlbut. interrupted : " There's no use talking, Sothern ; I posi- tively refuse. Aside from the danger of fire and the damage to the furniture and fixtures^ I don't want my house converted into a re- sort for itinerant ghosts. " Sothern paused for a moment, reflected,, and pulled his mustache. "Now," said he. "I'll tell you what ITl do. I'll send for an iron-monger and have the floor plated with boiler-iron, if you will al- low me to build a furnace in the centre of the room. I merely want to mako the test ;, I don't want to bet, because I'd fev?l as if I were swindling somebody. I've never tried this, but I feel perfectly sure of the result. "^ " What do you want with the furnace? " asked the hotel man. "I will permit myself," said Sothern, " to be imbedded in a mass of any kind of fuel my challenger may select — tar-barr«ls, and rosin ad lib. Then I will allow any member of a committee to apply the torch. "" " Isn't that going a little too far, Mr. So- thern ?" asked the writer. " Well, I may be mistaken," he replied, "but I feel sure of the result, sure of it. At all events, I'll give $10,000 to any charitable- fund in this city if I do not come out un- scathed." " What ! " ejaculated Hurlbut, with eyes like saucers. "Provided, my boy," added Sothern, Iltr lXItMl-t>»S trill M»S^tT?Ig-* Vti^ «.-,.... ».->.»..» the same time — neither of us to remain in the furnace more than fifteen minutes after the whole mass of fuel shall be in flames, and both of us to be perfectly nude." SB TALKS WITH, AND " But, I any, Bothern," say Harry Wall, of New York, who wm among the company, "that won't do, you know I Your anta^o- nistic) yon know, oan't consent to that. Wrap a sheet around you, at any rate. It won't burn. " Hurlbut had been on the point of acquis escing ; but this was too much for liim. He drew the folds of his dressing-gown tightly around him, pronounced an emphatio veto upon the whole affair, and slid from the room. " He won't have it. Well, we'll arrange it somehow," remarked Sothern, as the door closed. " How did yon discover this impervious- neaa to fire, Sothern ?" asked Harry Wall. " Imperviousneas to fire ^s good. Just as stated in last Mondaj^'s Inter-Ocean." " You were buying a cigar " * • Precisely, " broke in Sothern. " In a fit of abstraction I let the cigar drop, and the shopman cau|^ht me swallowing the illumi- nated oscillating gas-jet ! This was many }'earH ago, however, and not, as stated, a few months since." " Have you «ver subjected yourself," the writer asked, "to other testb than those mentioned in the Inter-Ocean ?" " Oh, yes; played six weeks in Philadel- phia during the exposition, with the ther- mometer in my dressing-room at 128." " And you have stood other warm tests from the press occasionally. Put seriously, have you any belief in spiritualism ?" " No; I only know I do these things, but how, 1 can't say." " You've heard of Bishop, who was here two weeks auo ? He offered to put a bar of steel, heated to white heat, on his shoulder, and place on top of it a five-pound weiRht," " A mere nothing, my dear fellow; I'll be willing to submit to that, provided the money goes to a charity — say to a lunatic asylum for believers in the supernaturHl." " Have you ever submitted to thib test ?" " No; but I've done more than that. I've had camphene poured all over my head and body and lighted. This is a frequent test of mine, and during it I only feel a mild warmth, like an autumn day. But ail this class of work is child's play. We are dally- ing with the topic merely. "Your power in this line is new to the peopl' here." "I ed to do it in Enrope. Remember in London — but here, look at this scrap-book, and you'll see two or three accounts," said the Crushed Tragedian, placing the book on the table. There were nnmwous extracts, soma flat- tering and pthers ^condemnatory. Harry Wall was asked to read tketa, and the firat selected was a cutting from a London letter to a very sober, conservative Scotch sheet called the Edinburgh Evening Courav,t. Perhaps tho publication of this will give • better idea of M*. SotLern's powers than any elaborate description. Hero it is : " Spiritualism has been a prominent theme lately, and some mysterious manipulations 'iven by Mr. E. A. Sothern the other night, before a party of gentlemen have increased the interep\ At the city house of Sir Michael O'Toole, last Tuesday evening assembled Mr. F. L. Rush, of Lloyds ; Mr. Wallace Hoar, manager of the United Service Club ; Sir John Reed, of the Carleton Club ; Mr, J. L. Toole, comedian ; Mr. Charles Mat- thews, comedian ; the Rev. Charles Eaton, M. A. and Mr. Mercer Simpson, of the Theatre Royal, London. In the presence of these seven gentlemen Mr. Sothern exhibited the possession of powers which, to any but an observer would be considered simply incre- dible. Whether they, the feats, were per- formed by spiritual or material agency, re- mains a profound mystery,, the celebrated comedian refusing to enlighten those pre- sent. A few of the tricks — for I refuse to believe they were more — may bp worth re- cording. An ordinary table stood in the the centre of the room. He requested the seven gentlemen— by the way, seven appe.irs to be his favourite number— to go into the next room, and he would guarantee that he would make the table too hea\y for their combined strength. They did as they were requested. When they returned they moved it, but it was with the greatest effort of tho combined seven. The fact that it was moved at all by seven men's strength ap- peared to disappoint Sothern. The next thing he did was to ask if they desired the piano moved to any part o** the room. It was a remarkably heavy instrument. A spot was designated, and the piano began waltzing to, the spot to the ' Mabel Walz,' played by some means or other upon its own keys. A few tests of a similar nature were given, when Sothern disappeared for a minute or so, and reappeared in his night, shirt. 'Gentlemen,' said he, ' I will give you another example. If any of you -will open the window in this or the next room, and partially turn down the lights, I will make my exit at one window, and while I am out will float around a little and then glide into any window you will please to de- signate. It was agreed to try the test, not without some objection on the part of Sir ■Joiin R?ed and -J. L^ Tools, who feared for the life of their friend. Sothern gently bent forward and gracefully floated out of a four- story window. The lights had been turned down, bnt they were turned up again in time ^3 from a London l«tt«r vative Scotch sheet } Evening Courant. n of thia wiU give » ern's powers than any Hero it is : len a prominent tlieme erioua manipulations them the other night, lemen have ipcreased y house of Sir Michael ' evening assembled iloyds ; Mr. Wallace Jnited Service Club / Carleton Club ; Mr. 1 ; Mr. Charles Mat- Rev. Charles Eaton, 9r Simpson, of the In the presence of idr. Sothern exhibited I which, to any but an lidered simply incre- the feats, were per- material agency, re- «ry,, the celebrated snlighten those pre- uks — for I refuse to ! — may be worth re- table stood in the He requested the e way, seven appe.-xra ber — to go into the d guarantee that he too hea\y for their ley did as they were returned they moved greatest efTort of the e fact that it was men's strength ap- Sothern. The next t if they desired the art of the room. It ivy instrument. A nd the piano began the ' Mabel Walz,' )r other upon its own similar nature were disappeared for a eared in his night- lid he, ' I will give If any of you will or the next room, ^ the lights, I will indow, and while I 1 a little and then ou will please to de- to try the test, not on the part of Sir oole* who f ssrsd f cr Sothern gently bent floated out of i» four- ;hts had been turned rned up again in time ABOUT sothern; M understand that issue a book incidents about Permit me to add to see him entering, feet first, the window ot the next room. Uf course the thing waa a trick. It haa been done hy Hume, though nut in the full glare of gaalight, He never iouclied the windtAV aa he entered. Aa he came in full view, the gaslight gradually died away, and the company was left in total darkness." The reading of the above made the com- pany nervous evidently. Aa soon aa Harry vVaii had ceased, each man excused himaelf •ndleft the room. THE DYING ACTRESS. The following leter to the editor explaina itself : " Dear Sir : — I you are aoon to of anecdotes and E. A. Sothern, the .tctor. one which will ni)t detract from the fame of the great actor, but rather add fresh laurels to his crown. In looking over the morning papers some time since, my attention waa attracted b}' a notice in one of them, calling -for aid in behalf ot a ' poor actress, sick and in need.' I determined to call in person, and see if the story waa true, and did so. She lived in a tenement ia one of our crowded streets. Upon entering the house I noticed a hiindaome oarriage in front of the door, from which a man was taking an armful of variously sized bundles. These he carried upstairs, and I said to myself, some good angel has surely responded to this cry for aid. Climbing up the rickety steps and entering the musty apartment, everything was found that could exhibit poverty of the worst kind. Prone upon a rude bed was the sufferer, a pale, haggard woman whose fea- tures were pinched by hunger. Standing near her and in the act of raising her head to offer a glass of wine, was a tall, elegant looking man, in whose blue eyes one could read a world of sweet charities. He laid her back upon her [dllow as tenderly as a woman could have done, and finished the story he had evidentl3' been reading to her. Then, after taking the parcels from the man, and placing them within the invalid's reach, he put a slip of paper in her hand and wished her good-bye, saying, as he clos- ed the door, ' 1 will eend you a nurse as soon as possible.' " I advanced towards the sick woman, who bad unfolded the little slip of paper and was wiping the tears from her eyes, and said, ' You seem to have a kind friend. ' ** — . «„, *^.j.w, » g.>.... «*..- gel. And who would think, to see him in Lord Dundreary, that such a heart was con- cealed beneath that exterior ? ' " ' Why, you don't say that is the man I have laughed myself aick over in Dundreary and Brother Sam. ' " ' Yes. that is Mr. Sothern, the actar, and a kinder, truer friend, in aunsliine or in Borrow, does not exist. See this ohec|ue fur (50, and all these things which he haa brought me ; and I am » follows : The opening pieces were "Bertram," and "The Frokeu Sword." Holland was cast for one of the monks in "Bertram," and the Baron in the " Broken Sword." After reading the parts he went to Mr. Brunton, and stated that he was (luite a novice m the profession, having only played two comic parts at the Olympic, and felt that he could not play the parts assigned to him, either with credit to the ostablishment, or pleasure to himself, being convinced that if he had any ability for the stage, it was quite in an- othpr line of business. Mr. Brunton replied ; " I know nothing of your engagement, or your theatrical abilities ; you must do the best you can with them, for I shall not alter the oast," Find- ing it unless to argue the subject, Mr. i'lj's- ton being absent, he concluded to take Mr. Bruntou's advice, and do the best he could cruld until Mr. Elliston's return ; and then have a full understanding respecting the particulars of his engagement. The following is Holland's description ot the manner in which ho personated those characters : " I studied the parts of the Monk and the Baron, but had not a single theatrical property. Bodie told me he would get the wardrobe-keeper to select the dresses, and he would assist me at night. This he failed to do, but requested a gentle- man who played one of the Monks, and \ shared my room, to aid me in dressing. The latter did so, and I flattered myself that I ' made a fair appearance, and got through the 1 performance without particular fault, ihe i gentleman who played the first Monk, said i had a very good voice, but my articulation was so d d bad he could only make out a ! word here and there. This was correct, for i I remember speaking in what I called my tragedy voice, a deep tone. ' Bertram be- ing a tragedy, I thought it requisite, and not being perfect in the lines, I didn't stick for 1 works, but kept ' wha-whaing ' some ram- j blingdeep tones, until I gave the cue, whicU I took care to remember. This was the cause of the gentleman's remarks. "After the play I hurried to my room to prepare for the Baron. I found a queer- looking dress, red stockings, and an old pair of russet shoes •with large white rosettes ly- ino on mv table. I had to stuff the.shoes to ke^p them on my feet. My friend, tlie Monk, dressed me, completing the costume with a large ruff around my neck ; then sur- veying me from head to foot, exclaimed: ABOUT 80THERN. a, then th« mankge'^ lingham. HolUnd'* lling* p«r week, he little experience M >e«raiioe during this hH follows : re "Bertram," and Holland waa caat in " Bertram," and ken Sword." After mt to Mr. Brunton, quite a novice iu the y played two comic ind felt that he could lianed to him, either bliBhmeiit, or pleasure need that if he had e, it was quite in an- or I know nothing your theatrical the best you can with dterthe cost," Find- he subject, Mr. Ellis- oncluded to take Mr. do the best he could )n'8 return ; and then ndiuK respecting the gement. oUand's description of he personated those sd the parts of the but had not a single Bodie told me ne be-keeper to select the^ d assist me at night. (Ut requested a gentle- of the Monks, and id me iu dressing. The lattered myself that I je, and aot through the particular fault. The i the first Monk, said I ;, but my articulation 1 could only make out » This was correct, for in what I called my I tone. 'Bertram' be. ght it requisite, and not lines, I didn't stick for ha-whaing ' some ram- il I gave the cue, which smbei. This was the an's remarks, hurried to my room to »n. I found a queer- >ckings<, and an old pair large white rosettes ly had to Btufif the shoes to feet. My friend, the completing the costume and ray neck ; then sur- \A to foot, exclaimed : . ' There, my boy t tk*t't the ticket ! now for your mug— lit down and I'll paint you a prime old man's face. ' For all this attention of course I felt grateful. Acother gentle- man dressing in the same room, said he would hear me repeat the part, while my faue was being painted, for which offer I kindly thanked nim, feeling rather dubious about being perfect. Wtule my ttrtistio friend was ' linmg' my face (as it is termed) he would thus commeutupon it, occasionally, stepping back to observe the effect : " ' Ah, that's it ; another line just here ; there I now then, a dark shade far the hol- low cheeks, that's capital, aiu't it. Bill ?' appealing to the gentleman who was hearing roe reoite the part. 'It will have a good effect at a distance. Now for your wig,' which he stuck on my head, without my seeing it. I felt it it was too i^mall, and told him so, but he still kept tugging at it, with the remark : " Why 1 what a thundering thick head you've got ; ha ! a little of your hair seen — soon settle that !' and he rubbed the whitening ball all around the edge of it, to cover the hair, and make it agree with (ha wig. 'There, that's it ! look Bill, how well the wig assimilates with the face. Prime, kn't it ?' " Having now tinishe<], I asked him for the looking-glass, that I might see myself. He said that Mr. Elliot had just taken the ss with him, as some of the dressiug- Tooms were not furnished with all the requisites. " ' You're all right, however, my boy, there's no need of a glass, and there goes the curtain belL Better get to your post, ready to go on,' " The dressing-room was under the stage and on my way to the first wing I could hear the dialogue on the stage. Not wishing to be bothered by any observation before I went on, I paused and repeated my part, knot, and side curls fri/zed out to « point, making the wig in the shape of a triangle, with a large black tail sticking out behind. The wig was iust stuck upon the top of my head, with a broad band of chalk'around it, to cover my own black hair, which was quite prominent I gazed at myself some time, exclaiming : ' I'm the Baron, am I ? Yes, I'm the Baron — and a d d handsome Baron I am I' The following morning I sent all the various parts of the Baron's dress to the theatre, deter- mined not to go there until Mr Elliston ar- rived. The My returned and said that my name was chalked up in large letters on the walls all about the stage door, ' Hoi- land, the Baron of Birmingham. ' That set. tied me, and I ' took in my legs ' with a de- termination never to let them be seen in that part of England again. It was months before I heard the last of the joke." FAREWELL BENEFIT AND SPEECH IN NEW YORK. O' the occasion of his last appearance in Ne^ Jork, the great audience present at- tested their appreciation of Mr. Sothern by frequently calling him before the curtain. He was cveatuaiiy obliged to make twa speeches, and with the reproduction of one of these, the present volume is concluded. In his first one he merely stated that he had 63 TAI.Ka WITH aOTHEKN. oftrefuUy written a long ami moat intertating ap«ecli. hut thiit ui)r(irti-nat«ly be had luiit it aiul bogged leave to ^o and loui( for it, ai, nut haying memorized it, he hadn't the gho^t of an idea what it wui all dl>ont. On khe conoluaion of " The Crushed Tragedian " he was again reoallod, and, pretending to He in- tensely nervous, aaid : " Lit. IRS and gentlemen, I'm blewed if 1 can had tuat spee-jh. I can't for the life of roe remember the beginning, but I'll try the middle or the end, and wander about it, if you'll kindly give me rounds of applause whenever it strikes you as singularly bad. The good pointii will tuke cure of thamselves — at least 1 hope so. This is the one hun- dred and twenty-sixth perforinaoce I have given on this stage. Eighty-four times have I appeared in 'The Crushed,' which piei o I was obliged to withdraw from the bills owing to a severe sore throat. By the way, you know all this, but I'll gradually arrive at a point. All I ask is, as prize fight- ers say, ' Time 1' Mr. Byron has, in ' The Crushed,' most cleverly and good-naturedly ■atirizod the old school of provincial tragic acting, and has kindly allowed me to ' build up ' the part of Fitz Altamont. and make a special study of it. I have succeeded be- yond my utmost hopes, for press and public have universally acknowledged that, as a creation, if I may use the wora, Fitz is fully equal to Dnndreary. But enough of myself. Many thanks to the gentleman in the stalls who says ' No, no 1' but if I don't rattle on I ■hall lose the thread of what I am trying to arrive at, so I repeat ' Enough of myself ; ' for I want to apeak of a dear old friend of mine, Mr. John T. Raymond, who will more than HU my place on these boards on Monday night. (Good !) I knew that would ' bring down the house !' Do it again. Thank you. A» Colonel Sellera, he has stamped himself.— (Voice from the dresi cir- cle -' He's what ?') I don't mean he's postage stamped himself ; I mean he's proven himself one of the finest character aotora of the age. On Friday next he will have per- formed Colonel Seller* 1,000 times, and if he livM, you may eventually add two or ftlire» O'sandsay 'there's milliona in it!' (Ap- plause.) Ah 1 I had you again. Thanks. Now I'll have a Hy at something else. I wish publicly to thank Mr. Henry Abbey^ the manager of this theatre, fur his kindness, thuughtfuluess and liberality. My thatika are also due to the lailies and gentlemen who have so greatly hel|>eeen tetiohins me the wildest sorts of tricks. They do look so easy, and they are so (iifficult. He think» nothing at all of pulling babiea and bird cages out of his boots, and putting them n^ his sleeve or palming them. But then ha requires music. . Now, I don't That givea me encouragement. As to Miss Heller, shft has most graciously for months past endea- voured to explain to me the * Second Sight' mystery, I've conquered the ' First Sight. ' It'athe ' Second Sight ' that tlo(,rs uie. For instance, in conjuring, I can take a commoik hat like this — we'll call ita ooinmou hat, but it isn't — and you see at once how, by a pure efiTort of memory, I gently produce a eommon baby, weighing thirty-two ponndii and a few ounces. Of course, it's a fearful strain on the mind ; but you aee at a glance how it ia done, don't you ? Well, I'll do it amio. (Voice from sUlls— ' When ?') Wken I re- turn from England. Good night. Gk>d blaaa everybody I" THIBITD. ly odd two or tlir«» lUioim iu it I' (Ap- ou it«kin. Thanks, it ■oinething aiae. I Mr. Henry Alibey^ tre, fur hia kindiiean, rftlity. My thank* lies ikiul gentlemen hel|>e le the bold neiit b Virizing a lie even yet beliuve I permiRaion I shall it muoh bettor, but the time) nuother llamonl, failing aa a iway Tribe,' turua a frightfully Ion mr. 1 merely ad< xtra clear. Itobert ind of wine, aud he inner, )>een tetiuhins ■ioks. They do look (iiffioult. He think* ing babies and bird ud putting them up .hem. But then ha [ don't. Thatgivea to Miss Heller, shft mouths past endea> ) the ' Seoond Sight' d the 'Firat Sight.' that do<>ra mo. For can take a common ita oummon hat, but >noe how, by a para [y produce a eommon ro ponndd and a few a fearful atrain on it a glance how it is I, I'll do it amtio. tien ?') Wken 1 re. Nxl night. Ghid bleaa ROBERTSON'S CHEAP SERIES T POPULAR FIFTEEN^ CENT BOOKS! THE GREAT LITERARY SUCCESS, BIRDS OF A FEATHER FLOCK TOGETHER. By E. A. SOTHKRN, the celebrated Comedian. ANOTHERMARVEL TWO Capital Books THE JO^^IXTTE^! . Or, the First Families of the Sierras. BY JOAQUIN MILLER. 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