BUR LONDON FLANEUR.

SOCIAL, THEATRICAL AND LITERARY,

Disappearance vsf the Sun—The Winter Art Shows—Gkosvenor Gaiuiky-Police Sui'ekvision■«*' Public Men an Germany— I'ROI-KSSOK KUSKIN — STORY ABOUT AN yKsthistic Professor—" Tns Bittkh Cky op Outcast Bklgravia" —A Fooi man's Wail—The New Pkincks Theathe: Its Marble Halls, Moorish Annexes, and Conservatory—The " Palack of Truth " Rkvived, Mrs Lingard as Zkolide—Nkw 'Operas at Covent Gakden—"Comedy and tragedy," grilbkrt'B play for jilss ander- SON at the Lyceum — Extraordinary Thiumwi—Plot of the Piece—Miki An derson's Realisation ok "Clarice"— — The American Accent — Books — James Payn's " Canon's Ward " — Twae .Latest Thino in Magazinks—Walter Bksatit's New Stouies—Cheap Editions- New Muhic—Popular Songs, Sentimental te&iD Othkrwise.

London, January 31. Here we are in the last week of January. without having experienced even so much' cs the pretence of a frost this year. Rain we get in plenty, likewise fog, boisterous "winds, and a general atmosphere of dulness., The sun seems to have entirely disappeared. Old England is nfraid of none. She fears no foeman'B threats, For on her mijthty empire The sun it never aetß. He who retails this axiom in His generation wibc is ; The sun it never sets, because The sun it never rises. Let me say at once I am not the wirtihorof this somewhat feeble jtu d't*}t:nt. It appeared in an evening newspaper the other day, and tickled my fancy go that I felt I must clip it. Parliament meets next week, and town is already very full. All the winter picture exhibitions are now open, and, in conjunc tion with most of the West End theatres, seem to be dointj a " roaring" business. The art show par excellence is as usual at the Grosvenor Gallery, where most of the masterpieces of Sir Joshua Reynolds are on view. Looking in there last Saturday afternoon I found several well-known Anglo- Coloniale, notably Sir Penrose Julyan, Sir Charles Clifford, and Mr Richard Laishley (of Auckland), " doing " the Exhi bition. Subsequently I visited the water colour views of South New Zealand at the Burlington Gallery. They do nut seem to be particularly well patronised. The land scapes are interesting, but only a few really rise above respectable mediocrity. I hear, by the way, that Sir Samuel Wilson has turned art patron, and is buying largely for the picture gallery at his new " ancestral mansion " in Hertfordshire.

Dining out with a German Count the other evening, I learnt something I never knew before. The Berliners .are very par ticular about the characters of their public men. A special department of the police gives its sole and undivided attention to the antecedents of all persons who become can didates for any sort of ofjjce or appointment, or who desire to extend their relations with the public. Theeeinvestigationsastoqualifi cation, reputation, honesty, &c, are con ducted without the knowledge of the indi vidual concerned, but should he after being thus weighed be found wanting.he (vulgarly spoaking) " gets the office " to retire, or if he ignores hints is publicly ex posed. How would this admirable plan work in New Zealand, think you ? Fancy a private inquiry into the antecedents of certain M.H.R.'s. What revelations you would have, and how entertaining that "dry sheet," the "Police Gazette" would suddenly become.

It is just on the cards, if his health con tinues fairly good, that Mr Ruskin may winter at the Antipodes this year, leaving England in October. His recent lectures at Oxford were, everyone admits, wonder fully interesting, and tho Fors Clavhjera, which still appear pretty regularly, show no falling off whatever. Talking of aesthe tics reminds me of a good story that is going the rounds just now. During the past year the Professor of .Esthetics at the University of Munich, whose lectures are proverbially tiresome, delivered his course (as ußual) to a somewhat exiguous audience. There were five students in all, who week by week melted away and grew beautifully less, until at last but one was left. This solitary individual, however, seemed to con centrate in his own person all the diligence, application, and punctuality of his frivolous fellows. At tho conclusion of the last lecture of the course, the Professor ap proached him and praised him for these ad mirable qualities, and proceeded to inquire of him, " What is your name, my young friend ?" No answer. •' What country are you from ?" Absolute silence. The matter was soon elucidated, for it was discovered that the patient and persevering disciple was a poor deaf mute, who had taken re fuge from the severe cold of winter in the warm lecture rooms of the University. A letter from a London footman, which appeared in the " Times" the other day, has created quite a sensation. John Thomas complains that the men servants in the houses of great noblemen are lodged far worse than the poor, and instances cases of footmen who parade marble halls in velvet and plush during the day, Bleeping in dog-kennels and slush-tubs at night. George R. Sims (most irreverent of wags) mocks, I regret to say, at John Thomas. He suggests the ■publication of a pamphlet to be styled, "The Bitter Cry of Outcast Belgravia," •and (under the familiar signature of " Dagonet," in the " Referee ") offers some '.humorous suggestions as to filling it up. I will send you a bit of the article amongst my " cliptomania." Jesting apart, I believe the London foot men have some cause of complaint. Servants' quarters even at certain Royal palaces are notoriously inadequate, and in London houses, where every square foot of room is valuable, I can quite imagine any hole is considered good enough for a flunkey to " pig " in. One hears little or nothing of the " out cast poor " nowadays. The movement to better their condition was earnest enough, in all conscience, whilst it lasted, but, alas ! like most "nine dayB1 wonders," it didn't last long. One desirable outcome has, how ever, resulted in consequence. We are to have a Royal Commission to investigate the whole question.

Tho new Princes Theatre in Coventry street waa opened on Friday,the 18th inst., in the presence of the Prince and Princess ■of Wales and an unusually friendly audience of representative " first-nighters." It is a very fine house in all respects, but special pains seem to have been taken to make what people call the "front" attractive. Entering from Piccadilly,the amazed visitor •finds himself in a spacious foyer, whence he can wander at will through bijou retiring rooms, Moorish annexes, luxurious refresh ment buffets, either to his seat in the stalls or to a delightful smoking conservatory. We live truly—at least, playgoers do— in a luxurious age, when their corridor conversations during the intervals of a play are carried on under groves of palms; and the seductive cigarette is smoked to the splashing of many fountains. At one time the flaneur -can warble to himself, " Here in cool grot and mossy dell," and at another, noting the luxury at his feet.and overhead, "■I Dreamt I Dwelt in Marble Halls.' Gilbert's clever comedy, "The Palace of Truth," firet played at the Haymarket in

IS7O, was the piece dc resistance of the opening programme at the new theatre. It went, I am sorry to say, very badly— in fact, fell so flat that any but a really friendly audience would have expressed open disapprobation. As it was, not a soul ap plauded. An evening which began with an inaugural address, hearty cheers, and exuberant clapping, -ended in depressing silence. The cause of the fiasco was unquestionably the weakness of the principal members of the com pany—Mr Anson, Mr Kyrle Bellew, and Miss Lingard, who, despite thek well-ear»ed reputations for comedy acting, showed themselves quite incapable of doing justice to Gilbert's subtle and delicate satire. After the rich, spontaneous humour of poor old Buekstone as King Phunor, people found Mr Anson's overstrained antics any thingbut laughable. Mr Bellew, too, evidently thought more of his personal appearance than his part; whilst Mies Lingard had •evidently wholly misconceived the character <of Zeolide. The press has condemned the representation in unmeasured terms, and I •expect the "Palace of Truth" will soon disappear from the bill.

The second-rate English Opera Company now playing a short season at Covent Garden have achieved a sxtcces d'estime with " The Piper of Flamelin," a work by a ■German composer, founded on the famous legend of "The Pied Piper of Flamelin." The music is severely Teutonic, and would not, I fear, suit the popular colonial taste, but there are one or two fairly pretty songs in the opera, which I will name directly it iis published. Another lyric novelty, " Victorian," by Julian Thomas, was pro duced by the same company last Saturday, but without success. It is said to be a version of Longfellow's " Spanish Student." "Lords and Commons," which has not boon a big draw at the Haymarket, will be withdrawn shortly to make room for a re vival of "Peril," Mr Bolton'Rowe's popular version of Sardons " Nos Intimes." This piece had a prolonged run at the old Prince of Wales's Theatre some years ago, when the parts now to be undertaken by Mr Forbes Robertson, Mr Conway, and Mrs Ber nard Beere, were played by Mrand Mrs Ken dallandMrCoghlan. TalkingofMrCoghlan reminds me that this most promising of all Je.ttnes premiers is suffering from Boftening of the brain, and has lost (only temporarily the doctors hope) all histrionic power. The last nights of " La Vie" at the Avenue are announced. I wonder myself how it has ka.pt the boards so long. Planquette's long promised "Nell Gwy>ne" follows, with ■ clover Florence St. John in the title r6le. The Belgian composer is coming over to conduct the first performances himself. The one-act play, " Comedy and Tragedy," written for Miss Anderson by "Pinafore" Gilbert, was produced at the Lyceum on Saturday evening last, and proved an extra ordinary puccess. It occupies barely forty minutes in performance, but daring that time the heroine is never off the stage, and has opportunities for high-class acting which would delight even a Bernhardt or a Modjeska. Clarice, the actress heroine of "Comedy and Tragedy," is the kind of character that no lady, even of transcendent ability, would disdain. In course of time we shall probably see all the greatest living artistes in the part. Mean while, Miss Anderson is in luck to have se cured euch a piece, and might well Bhake Mr Gilbert's hand cordially as she led him across the stage to acknowledge the tumultuous congratulations of the first night audience. The story of "Comedy and Tragedy," which originally appeared in narrative form in a Christmas Annual called "The Stage Door," runs as follows : The scene ie France, the time the Regency of the notorious Duke of Orleans, and the heroine Mdlle. Clarice, a famous actress of the Comedie Francaise, who, with her hus band, Monsieur D'Aubray, co-operates in a scheme for tho punishment of an offensive admirer, no less a per3on indeed than the Regent himself. For a long time D'Aubray haa been anxious to avenge in a duel the insults offered to his wife in the form of odious attentions by the Royal voluptuary. But the Regent has steadily refused to meet the indignant husband, who, for love of his wife, aban doned his social position as officer of the Royal Guard and became an actor, forfeit ing thereby his rights as a gentleman. Burning with the recollection of an attempt at abduction made by d'Orleans, the actress consents to turn her profession to account. By pretending that she is separated from her husband, she will lure her persecutor tuto her own house, where d'Dubray can confront him and compel him to fight To a supper party, accordingly, she invites the Regent and his profligate friends, the Abb 6 Dubois, de la Ferte, de Courcelles, and others, and it is just before this party begins that the play opens. An interview between Clarice and her sister Pauline, who knows nothing of the plot, suffices to indi cate the pressure which the actress puts upon herself to sustain the role of a careless wife, who holds husbands to be "out of fashion, and no longer worn," and who is ready to receive her princely admirer the moment that she is free. Clarice gets rid of her sister, replying to her remonstrances in such a way as to leave no doubt of her reck less demoralisation, until, in a hurried con versation with her husband before the guests arrive, her true nature is made mani fest. The Regent arrives, and, surprised at his own success, renews his advances directly he is left alone with his hostess. She acts, intrigues, faints, flirts, lies and deceives this vain coxcomb until she gets him fairly into the trap she has set for him. The Regent of France is embracing her, pouring the poison af his unholy passion into her ears. Her husband stands over her would-be seducer with adrawnsword. The crisis has come. Regent or no Regent, he must fight the man whose honour he has out raged. The Duke refuses ;he cannot sully his honour by indulging the vanity of a mere actor with a duel. Straightway the actor tears up his commission from the Theatre Francais, and throws it at the Re gent's feet. Still the Regent is obdurate. He appeals to Clarice—he is an expert swordsman ; his death-thrust is a certainty. The woman, with quivering lip, and. in an agony of apprehension, settles the ques tion : " You must fight my husband !" And so the two men go out into the moon light to kill or to be killed, whilst Clarice, swears they shall not be interrupted, cost what it may. What a fearful moment for a fond woman ! The door of the gar den has scarcely closed on the com batants, when the guests of Clarice return, heated with wine, from their supper. She must do something to distract their atten tion. She is nervous, hysterical, flattered, and agitated; but something must be done to stifle the noise of the duel. "Hark!" says one of the guests, " there is the clash ing of swords in the garden." But Clarice, half-hysterical, is on the alert. She rushes to the door, locks it with feverish im petuosity, and hands the key to the doctor, who swuars to obey her orders. She has a surprise in the garden for her guests which phe cannot reveal. She will recite. What shall it be? Somebody proposes an im provisation. Clarice is remarkable for her power at impromptu. It shall be comedy first—she promises them "tragedy afterwards " —and away the feverish woman dashes into the wild extravagance of comic art. She is making her audience roar with laughter at her variety and imitations, when the cry, the despairing cry of a

wounded man, falls upon her ears. Her husband is dead or dying. In an agony of emotion she explains the situation, and on her knees implores the doctor to hand her back the key of the closed door. But this is supposed to be the "tragedy" which was to follow the " comedy." How superbly Clarice is acting ! The more passionate she becomes the more the .spectators admire her splendid genius. She is not acting. She declares in tones of agony that ring with truth to one man alone—the doctor. In spite of the protests of the guests, this good man ventures to in terfere. There is something in the woman's emotion no art can counterfeit. It is not acting, it is truth. So the key is delivered up. In a frenzy of doubt Clarice unlocks the door, and there stands her husband, pale as a ghost, but unhurt, while his rival lies out in the garden wounded to the death. This was the surprise of Clarice, and as she bows her thanks to her guests for their "generous applause," the curtain falls upon as strong and valuable a little play as lucky actress ever secured. On the whole, Miss Anderson achieved a signal success. From first to last she held the vast audience silent and enthralled. During the forty minutes she was on the stage you could have almost heard a pin drop ; indeed, the curtain had fallen two or three seconds before the entranced throng woke up and burst into the heartiest con gratulatory applause that has been heard within those walls since Irving went to America. Much of this fine effect was, of course, due to the play itself, which is one of the neatest and most powerful one-act dramas ever written. It does not contain a superfluous line or a dull moment. Miss Anderson acts best in the hard parts. When bracing herself up for revenge she is excellent, and the cruel look Clarice turns on the trapped Regent ought to freeze him. What the actress lacks is tenderness and pathetic power. Clarice's love for her hus band docs not seem sufficiently indicated. Mrs Kendal, in the same part, would literally tear at one's heart-strings. Mary Anderson fails even to draw a tear. She is very beautiful, very clever, and at times very powerful. Her Clarice is a thing to see and remember, but to pretend that she does full justice to the character would be absu»d. lam talking now, please remem ber, of the initial representation. In time, no doubt, her conception of the part will greatly improve. Especially is it to be hoped that some effort will be made to over come the obnoxious American twang which, strangely enough, only makes its appear ance in Miss Anderson's voice at exciting crises. Everybody knows how narrow is the line separating the sublime from the ridiculous. Well, last Saturday evening I more than once trembled lest it should be crossed, for as the culminating point of Clarice's agony approached, Miss Ander son's American accent became so pro nounced as to be almost funny.

What a delightful novelist James Payn ifs! I have just finished his new story, "The Canon's Ward," and I enjoyed it thoroughly. He has not evolved a very striking plot, but what there is to tell is told admirably, and (as usual in his books) one meets quite a gallery of charming characters. " The Canon's Ward " strikes me as being about on a par with " Thicker than Water," and "A Grape from a Thorn," which, by the way, are now out at two shillings. The newest thing in magazines is " Home Chimes," a weekly (also bound up in monthly parts) on the plan of " Bow Belle," "Tho London Journal," etc., etc. The price is one penny weekiy (sixpence monthly), and the idea seems to be to bowl over existing rivals by supplying at less cost equally interesting and exciting, but far better love stories, romances, etc. F. W. Robinson, author of that famous sensa tion novel " Grandmother's Money," is the editor, and contributes one of the serials, a tale called "A Fair Maid." James Sime, author of the successful novel "King Capital," is writing another entitled " Old Gold," and amongst the celebrities who con tribute short tales, etc., to the first monthly number may be mentioned Phil Robinson (of "Poets' Buds" fame), Algernon Chas. Swinburne, the poet; Clement Scott, Savile Clark, Alice King, Emma Marshall, and Mrs Gregg. Walter Besant, I hear, is engaged on a new novel for the " English Illustrated Magazine," called "Julia." The tale he has just finished, " Dorothy Forster," began to run through the "Graphic"last week. Mrsßiddell succeeds Payn in the " Illustrated London News." Her story, " Berna, " does not commence well; indeed, I don't think she is at all the sort of novelist to suit a weekly paper. MacMillan and Co., who recently pur chased the copyright, announce a new seven-and-sixpenny edition of Lord Tenny son's works, which will be exquisitely got up, and contain many poems not to be found in other series. I must not forget to men tion, too, that a very remarkable novel by the author of that extraordinary hook "John Herring " is just out in a six-shilling form. This is "Mehalah, a Story of the Salt Marshes," and was reviewed very flatter ingly some time ago. Blackwoods also an nounce a cheap edition of the muchtalked about " AltioraPeto."

I ought, I am well aware, to say some thing about new music, but I have not been to many concert* lately. In "My Sweet heart," the other night, little Minnie Palnrer sang some of the new Yankee notions, but probably they have already reached yon. "Sweet Violets" was one, and "Peck-a- Boo" another, likewise "Only a Pansy Flower," which I am getting rather sick of. A first-rate lady's song is "The Broken Pitcher," by Pontet, and someone recently spoke well of " Daddy " to me, I remember. "Laddie," which was mentioned in these columns two months ago, is now selling at the rate of 10,000 copies a month, and Louis Dtehl's " Going to Market" is almost equally popular. "A Maid of Kent," by Diehl, seems_ much advertised, but I don't know anything about it personally. Marzials, whose " Summer Shower" was such a favourite last year, has just completed two new songs, " Never to Know " and " When My Jim Comes Home." They are favour ably criticised, but one can't always judge from thnt. There will be a tremendous run on " Princess Ida " when the score is pub lished six weeks hence, and I expect "selec tions " from the opera will be tho "rage" all summer. A friend tells me the best dancing waltz of the season is tho "Estudi tiana," but the name of the composer he doesn't know. I should think Straus?, pro bably. Bucalossi's new waltz, " Maiden Dreams," is pretty.

17,000 dentists in the United States every year pack a ton of pure gold into the teeth of their customers. Nelson hop-growers have resolved not to sell at less than 1.? for the next six months. The total crop is not expected to be over 2,000 bales. A. S. Braithwaite, who in 1829 made a locomotive engine which competed with Geo. Stephenson's "Rocket," has just died at Gisborne, aged S3 years. A witty nobleman once asked a clerical gentleman at the bottom of the table why the goose, when there was one, was always placed next to the parson. "Really, my lord,"saidtheclerjjyman,"yourqueßtion is somewhat difficult to answer, and so re markably odd that I vow I shall never see a goose again without being reminded of your j lordship."

AN AWFUL EXPERIENCE.

Facing Death on the Salt Marshes.

[KKOSI OOK LONDON COKRK.SI'ONUKXT.]

That we have not to go far from home to meet with tales of adventure and strong endurance is well illustrated by the in cidents of a struggle with death which took place on the night of the furious gale of the 2Gth of January among the low-lying lands of utter desolation known as Frodsham salt-marshes, near the mouth of the River Mersey. It would appear that late on the afternoon of the 26th, when it was fairly fine weather, a crew of the reformatory boys on board the Akbar, lying in the Mersey, off Rock Ferry, was despatched to perform one of the ordinary duties of the day. This was the usual task of landing certain officers of the ship with the ship's letters, Jfo danger was anticipated, or the boat would certainly not have been sent to shore. It was luckily a good stout cutter, properly provided with extra oars, manned by lads who could be trusted; and the opportunity was taken to land a youth called Duckworth, who had been paying a visit to his brother on board the reformatory ship. An ill wind sprang up, and it boded no good for the sailor boys who manned the boat. A tempestuous gale and a tierce inrushing tide put the young oarsmen quite at the mercy of the river, and the officer in charge found that the ship's boat was being driven helplessly with the flood towards a veritable land of desolation. It was four o'clock, the time when dusk ap proaches, the gale that had risen increased in fury, the river became a roaring sea, and for at least an hour and a-half it was an anxious question whether the boat would not be capsized, and the whole crew drowned. So desperate grew the condition of the crew that eight out of the twelve oars in the boat were smashed, and hour suc ceeded hour without exhibiting a ray of hope to the forlorn youngsters. The after noon had been sad enough, the wind shriek ing and tearing abouttheirears ; but matters became worse when darkness set in, and the boat was left to the mercy of the wind and waves. The lads had done what they could ; they could do no more. Wet to the skin, exhausted, hungry, and doubtless seriously alarmed, even the encouraging words of their officer failed to move them, and so for four hourstheboat drifted,and was atlast driven in the black night upon something that had the resemblance of shore and possible safety. A more inhospitable landing-place could scarely be pictured than that at which the ship's boat eventually touched. Elsewhere marsh land at a river's mouth is desolate enough, with its ditches, its rough embank ments, and naked sea wallß. The herb age, such as it is, consists of the rankest grass and a refuse of weed and bramble. Huge unwieldy stones piled up to break the tide, mud and mire, slush and bog, quagmire and quicksand, only serve to accentuate the dismal features of this desert of despair. There are places here and there where cattle do not disdain to feed on the rank growth of these salt marshes, and they stand—poor forlorn creatures—with their heads turned from the wind, the only sign of life in this region of unbroken silence. The year knows no day when the marsh land is a cheerful spectacle ; treeless and barren, the very birds desert it. But its most evil and uncanny hour is when the sky is charged with storm-clouds, and a gale sweeps across the leafless plain to terrify and confuse any wretched outcast who may have lost his way on the trackless fen. On such a spot, between Frodsham and Elle3mere Point, the helpless boat touched land. Already all of the crew were satur ated and benumbed with cold. They had no guide and no compass. The night was bewildering in its darkness; the gale, charged with sleet and hail, cut and scarred the faces of the boys as they clutched at the first promise of safety in landing. There was no hesitation when the order was given to wade breast-high to the shore. They could not well be wetter than they were, and to perish touching land was better than to die with the useless oars in their hands and in an exposed boat. Once on the salt ings, the difficulty was to know what to do next. They peered into the darkness, and could see no light. To attempt to strike a match in such a furious gale would have been folly. Here they were left alone with out a chance of arresting attention until day dawned. Had anyone at all experi enced in marshy places been with the boys, he would have endeavoured to grope his way towards one of the sea walls or embank ments that guard the ditches, and there to follow it; but the refugees thought best, in order to avoid the danger of sudden im mersion, to huddle together and keep life in their limbs until day dawned. Before this miserable little encampment of damp and half-frozen bodies, however, could be made, one of the number had strayed away and was lost. The lad Duckworth, the visi tor on board ship, who had been taken in charge by the boat's crew, was nowhere to be found. In the scramble to get to shore, he had somehow been separated from his temporary companions, and was wandering alone, exposed to the fury of this awful night. Many have had recent experience of the helplessness of man in a gale of wind. It is bad enough in a crowded city, when people are blown about hither and thither, and become quite demoralised by the im possibility of resisting the wind ; it v un comfortable enough When roof sand chimney pots are being tumbled about the ears, and tall houses seem to rock and sway with every blow and buffet of the storm. It is ] not pleasant, when warm and snug in bed, to hear the window sashes creaking and groaning, and the rain furiously la3hing against the window-pane ; but what are all these troubles compared to a night in such a storm out on the melancholy marshes ?

So tremendous was the force of the wind that all cries to the lad Duckworth were in vain. There was probably not a boy in the company who would not have pone forth to search for him if there had been the slight est advantage in any such enterprise. All they could do was to hope that he had found some sort of shelter when they had not; so these miserable creatures huddled themselves together and " wished ior day." What a night it must have been—what a time of agony must have been spent by this disconsolate band, with their shiver ing limbs, their wet bodies, and their craving stomachs! A shipwrecked crew has a ration of something occasion ally, however small; but there was no supper-time for the Akbar boys that night, at any rate. One by one they dropped off i nto a kind of stupor, too likely to end in death. In such a fight as this, it was the strongest constitution that could expect to win. Death from exposure came to the poor lad Duckworth, who was found when morning broke barely a quarter of a mile from his companions, inanimate from exposure. He had breathed his last without even the presence of a kindly hand, hearing perhaps the voices but not able to cry for help, the breath and the life knocked out of him by the pommelling of this wild tempest. Luckily, when day broke, the officer of the ship, still faithful to the care of his help less charges, had strength to find his way to the nearest village and to summon assistance. It was urgently needed. Duck worth was already dead, and four of the boys were at death's door, for

no persuasion could prevent them from yielding to the fatal feeling of torpor. It might have been thought that constant motion, even in a prescribed space, would have been better than dropping down in a heap, wet and hungry as they were ; but» if the kind villagers of Frodsham who have taken charge of the boys succeed in bring ing them round again, it will be a proof of the hearty constitutions of the lads trained in the Akbar. When help was obtained, by the appearance of the officers in the marsh village, no conveyance could be taken to the desolate spot, and it was neces sary to carry the boys quite a mile and a half to the nearest inn, where they were hospitably and carefully tended.

Love and Lovemaking.

Mr Euskin haa been expressing in his Fort, at considerable length and with character istic plainness of speech, hisviewson girlsand their relations to love and courtship. The subject is one which has commanded the best thought of the best minds in all ages, and when treated by so masterly a writer as Mr Kuskinnaturally attracts wide attention. Whatever interests the girls iuterests every body else whose heart is what it should be, and there is not a girl in England worthy of her sex who could fail to be profoundly in terested in what Mr Kuskin has been saying. He starts with the impregnable general position that there is nothing in this world more beautiful than a girl, and from this passes to gay that no girl is plain who is well bred,kindormodest; all real deformity means want of manners or of heart, or of .vulgarity of education. "The wickedness of a nation," he says, "may be briefly measured by ob serving how far it has made its girls mis erable," a philosophic observation which is tantamount to an admission that the United States is as free from wickedness as any country on the globe. These general assertions are not the onei which have excited controversy in England. Their truth is admitted on ull hands. It is only when he comes to denning what he calls "ideal lovemaking" that ho calls forth ad verse criticism. His theory of that is his old one, that each girl should have live or six suitors all under vow to her at the same time. Thia vow should not be"an oath of allegiance preventing the freedom of further search or choice, but only the promise of the youth that until ho saw one better worth winning, he would faithfully obey his chosen mistress's will in all things, and suffer such a test as she chose to put him to, it being understood that at any time he had the poweras openly to withdraw as hehadopenly accepted the candidature." It is perhaps unnecessary to remark that no girl in all England has objected to this arrangement, but there have been growls of disapproval from the men, who are of much the same composition in England as they are every whereelee. To the American girl the theory will scarcely have the merit ~f novelty. It has been in practice here more or less for many years, and has worked, in the main, to the great satisfaction of the girls. Yet, even with this broad.and liberal sys tem in force, Mr Ruekin takes a despondent view of lovemaking. He says that real love between young people is an "impossibility and an abßurdity,"and that he is convinced by what has been said about his complex suitor scheme that "very few young people, brought upon modern principles, have ever felt love, or even known what it means, except under the conditions in which it ia also possible to the lower animals." He says he could easily prove this, if the subject were not too painful, by the evidence given him in a single evening, during v hich he "watched the enthusiastic acceptance by an English audience of Salvini's frightful and radically false interpretation of ' Othello.' " We fail to perceive how any girl, especially if she had six pledged suitors, could be expected to exhibit to the casual spectator a capacity for real love while con templating "Othello's" frightful experi ences. The natural effect upon a girl with > only one suitor would be to make her shy of him. The awful possibility of holding " vows " from six possible "Othellos" would inevitably depress the spirits of any truly affectionate girl. Mr Raskin doe* his own theory injustice to condemn it after such an unfair experiment.

But he seems to have found ather obsta cles equally fatal, for ho adds that if he were so disposed he could show that " true love is inconsistent with railways, with joint stock banks, with landed interest, witli par liamentary interest, shooting, with lawn ten nis, with monthly magazines, spring fashions and Christmas cards." This makes the mat termuchmore serious, and implies thatthere is something peculiaraboutthecourseof true love in England. In thiscountry lawn tennis has frequently been found to be a direct in centive to love-making, and as for spring fashions, instead of being an obstacle, webo lieve ittobea well-established fact that their presence is often an iib-jolute necessity both for the inception and perpetuation of the tender passion. Perhaps Mr Ruskin doee not state the case 'jorrectly about the English girls—and perhaps after all his con templation he does not understand girls any better thaa pother mon do.—"New York Evening Post."

Interesting Roman Discoveries.

Some very interesting Roman sepulchral discoveries have been made lately at May ence, in the carrying out of some consider able excavations and earthworks required for carrying the Ludwigsbahn Railroad around the city. Close to the Neuthor the workmen came upon a place of considerable extent, evidently assigned to the sepulture of civilians. A large number of large and small stone coffins wcie found at irregular distances from each other, the intervening spaces having been occupied by wooden coffins, as is proved by the fragments and the nails which were found. One stone coffin bore a plate, which seems to have previously served as the " head-stone" of a former grave ; and all the indications sug gest that the place had been used at sue cessive periods as n. place of burial. Mont of the graves that were opened contained skeletons of women and children, v/ith which lay bracelets, rings, needles, censere for burning incense, he. There was one metal coffin, in which' lay a women's skeleton, but without any inscription or ornament. In the children's graves there were toys and other objectSj generally of beautiful workmanship, such as little bracelets, glass and earthern ware utensils, &c. There was one little polished goblet of singular beauty. One stone coffin (the inscription on which con tained some mistakes) held the body of a woman, dressed with lime for the purpose of preservation, having the back-hair ar ranged in a long plait of eight stranda, woven with great elegance, and the clearly discernible remains of a cap. The hair is now red, but most probably was once black. There was in the cofiin a stone needle-case, ornamented with gold bonds, two bone dice, a wooden casket with bronze mountings, the key of which was in excellent preserva tion, and a bronze ring. As to- the othor objects found in the place, a small bronxe figure of a dancing Bacchante, three black* earthernware water phials beautifully painted, and bearing the following inscrip. tions, "vivas mi," " bibe," "dos," were especially deserving of notice. A quantity of silver and bronze coins were found, ranging from the time of Hadrian to the end of tho third century.

STAR SATURDAY SUPPLEMENT, MARCH 15, 1884.

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