beautiful faces appeared with every advantage of dress and situation; placed at their side was the graceful and perfumed cavalier, with flatteries as light as the wave of the fan, that half chided, half encouraged them. Scattered amid the glittering crowd were men whose empire was that at which the youthful author aimed—the empire of the mind. All before the curtain was poetry in its most brilliant, and yet most tangible shape; but behind came the reality—cold, dark, and forbidding. Norbourne felt his enthusiasm suddenly extinguished; he looked with absolute loathing on the scene around him; so gloomy, and yet so common. Actors and actresses appeared alike exaggerated and tawdry, and he marvelled what could be the attraction of an existence which seemed divested as much of comfort as of dignity.
Just as these thoughts were passing before him, his attention was drawn to Booth, who, to solve a trifling disagreement between him and the author as to the effect which was to be given to a particular passage, began to
