NOVELS, ROMANCES, TALES, &c.

About Abyssinia: By the author of "The Com-, LEAVES FOR THE LITTLE ONES

Observations on Horseback in America: Bog and
Rain in the Mountains-Water-Spouts: 215

Imitation Coral Sleeve Ornaments for a Baby: Old Age: By Grindon: 38

Imitation of Goldsmith: By the late James Edmis- Summer-day Rhyme, A.: By Eben Rexford: 315

Love's Contradictions: By Elizabeth Townbridge: 39 Wish, A: By Ada Trevanion: 11

Printed by Rogersou and Tuxford, 265, Strand, London.

BORN TO SORROW.

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through all the blazing heat of the day, and, if | complete to its most minute details, and from haply they fall wearied to death by the roadside, must lie there forgotten and bruised, while their stronger brothers and sisters rush on in the headlong chase of El Dorado. And, supposing that everything went right, she would then enter a world in which everything was different from the ordinary work-a-day existence. She was to herd among people who were the Bohemians of society-at least of such society as is composed of the strictly moral and strictly conventional classes-" the Philistines," as a modern writer calls them. And she knew full well that two courses of life were open to her of splendid shame-when she might be the queen of a shameful coterie, and ride to the Derby in a natty brougham, or the only woman in solitary state on a sporting drag, when she might lord it amongst her set in magnificent jewellery and gorgeous raiment, when she might have a villa in St. John's-wood, a horse to ride in the Row, and an income unlimited enough to allow of picnics to Richmond and pleasant little suppers; all this and much more, simply that a silly, fatuous young lordling, with more money than he could spend, might ape his fellow-men in sin: or she might, after much success, make a great name on the stage, and draw a salary large enough to supply her every want and be fortunate enough, as many of her class have done, to persuade some stagestruck nobleman to marry her. Which she chose eventually we shall see anon; at present we must trace her adventures from the beginning.

the opening scene in the Eastcheap Tavern to the closing Battle of Shrewsbury, where Grieve and Telbin had done their deftest in the scenery, and the field of battle was covered with the rival armies, dressed as correctly as if Lawrence Hilton had been army contractor to the monarch himself, when the setting sun gilded with its rays the gorgeous panoply of war and played upon the magnificent armour of the King and his staff of soldiers-nothing had ever been seen to compete with it; and when the drop fell on the first representation, the manager was called before the curtain, and bowed mutely to that most welcome music to managerial earsthe storm of applause that shook the mighty building. A better actor than his Falstaff had never flattered the wild Hal-a more graceful and more fascinating Lady Percy had never tamed the furious spirit of the warlike Hotspur. Even Shakspeare himself, so said the critics, would have found no fault with the acting and the scenery. Ere the applause had subsided, and people had well ceased talking of and admiring the "Henry the Fourth," came out that well-known sensation piece, "The Mystery of the Haunted Mill!" with entirely new scenery, and a ghost, which left nothing to be desired in the supernatural way; several murders, a suicide, a night attack of rioters, and prison scenes-where all the loathsome details of the system were brought out with such startling reality that the house shuddered-while the final triumphant success of the virtuous characters, and the utter abasement of the villains, made this play so attractive that it ran two hundred nights; and when the last representation took place, people were heard to lament who had seen it night after night.

It was

The Thespian Theatre was one of those mighty undertakings constructed and maintained solely by the intrinsic energy of one man -the manager. He had taken it at a time when the theatrical season was becoming very Lawrence Hilton was, in himself, a plainslack, and when there was scarcely one actress spoken, unassuming man-a general favourite on the British stage who might be called a star, with the actors, from the first walking gentleto such a mediocrity had the twin genii of man to the scene-shifters and banner-carriers. Tragedy and Comedy fallen in England. By Rumour whispered that he had been a bannerdint of unwearying energy, backed by large carrier himself, and that he had skilfully carried capital, he had succeeded in drawing together a the pennon of the wicked Baron, so as to keep galaxy of talent, most of it foreign, and at the the front always presented to the spectators; time of our writing the career of the Thespian but Rumour is proverbially false, and in this was in everyone's mouth, and coupled with it instance "lied most consumedly." the name of Lawrence Hilton; and a decided known but to few of his intimates that Hilton success was prophesied, even by the most ill- had been one of the most daring speculators boding. Nightly the house was crowded from of the time, had attempted many things pit to gallery, and the enterprising manager felt which had turned out gigantic failures, until in the ground growing firmer beneath his feet every a lucky turn of the wheel of fortune, a large moment, and spared neither money nor industry property came to him quite unexpectedly, and to please the public. Sprung himself from the he engaged the Thespian Theatre. Whether he lower order of people, he publicly acknowledged had come to London with that traditional halfhis aim was to please, not only the stalls and crown in his pocket, without which it seems boxes, but the pit and gallery too; and this he impossible to amass a fortune-whether he was managed by ever and anon, between the severer born to greatness, or acquired greatness, or drama of Shakspeare and Dryden, introducing had greatness thrust upon him, was dubious some sensation piece, startling enough to please enough- but everyone in London knew that the most fastidious lover of that kind of enter- at present Lawrence Hilton was an example tainment, and thus he actually contrived to of a theatrical manager, with whom everydelight the public. The stalls and boxes acknow- thing he attempted seemed to succeed (not ledged that nothing could be finer than the way always the case with those of his kind)—a man he put "Henry the Fourth" on the stage-whose touch seemed, Midas-like, to turn every

tirade, and go on smoothly again. When I Gently, Pegasus, we must pull up after this have just described Lawrence Hilton's personal appearance-a short, wiry man, with a pleasant decided face, and that clean cut, small mouth, with closely-compressed lips, so characteristic of the man who will work his way despite opposition, with clear blue eyes, and curling auburn hair; he was what most women would have called a handsome man, with a rich musical voice, which stirred the heart like an organwhen I have thus photographed the manager of the Thespian, I will resume the thread of my narrative, for you must have been complaining already at "all this intolerable deal of sack to such little bread."

He was sitting in the office of the Thespiana little den, covered and littered with play-bills, orders, manuscripts of translators of French plays, and baskets full to overflowing with_rejected contributions, in the shape of tragedies, and comedies, and farces, from stage-struck authors. One of these he was busily engaged reading this morning, grumbling dolorously over the wretched contents, and bursting into a ringing laugh when anything particularly ludicrous struck his fancy, and marking deep red pencil lines against any passage which he thought might be welded into shape for the stage.

thing to gold. And, besides, most people | know so well-of plastering the poor worn knew that in his beautiful little cottage at cheeks with paint and rouge till, in the distance, Bayswater the manager of the Thespian kept they look like blooming beauties-of exposing an old, infirm father and two sisters, who loved themselves to the manifold dangers from gas, him beyond all earthly things. And knowing and falls, and sprained ankles, which render men would tell you that the reason why Law them unfit for their vocation. I am right glad rence Hilton did not marry, though many to find that the public prints are taking up the women of high position would have jumped at cause of these poor girls: in good sooth, they him, was, that he thought a wife might not have need some defenders when so many revile. agreed with the household above-mentioned, and that he elected to remain single as long as they lived. This as it may be, but all the favoured people who were invited agreed that Hilton's dinners were perfect, and that some of the best men in London were to be met there; and it was confidently asserted that the Savelli, who would sing for no other man under one hundred guineas per night, was ready to sing at Hilton's till she was hoarse, out of pure regard for the man. By the whole corps dramatique he was idolized: no taskmaster, never requiring impossibles, when people had no straw he expected them not to send in the tale of bricks; but when he was assured that they had the requisite materials ready to their hands, no Pharaoh was stricter in requiring exact performance of duty than he, and delinquent stage-carpenters trembled under his stern eye, and third-rate actors, who had not their "exits and their entrances pat, had reason to tear their hair when he visited them. To the stars of his company he was never patronising, always urbane, and many were the cosy little dinners that the first ladies and gentlemen enjoyed at Bayswater, where they were always treated like ladies and like gentlemen. To the coryphées-that band of poor struggling girls, who exhibit themselves to satisfy the morbid curiosity of the public-he was almost fatherly in his demeanour, and it fared hard with the man who spake slanderously of these girls in his presence. His fine face would flush with indignation, and he would thunder out, in that clear decisive voice of his, "You must not be hard on my ballet-girls; you have no idea, sir, of the temptations to which these poor girls are exposed, and the terrible amount of hard work they have to go through to scrape together a few pence. I know for certain that a good many of these girls maintain poor families at home, and are as honest and pure as the day; and I will never hear them slandered in my presence without defending them. I don't see why ballet-girls should not be as virtuous as our own daughters and sisters. It's the fashion, sir, it's the fashion, to call them all bad; there never was a more cruel falsehood." Will anybody join me, I wonder, in endorsing the good manager's opinion? I am afraid not, knowing to the full how prejudiced our strictly virtuous and proper people are in their estimate of these poor girls, putting them all down as bad together, whereas they never reflect on all the misery and want those scanty and gauzy dresses cover-how deeply felt the want must be which impels them to this work-the horrible task of simulating that ghastly, unmeaning smile we

"The trouble these fellows cause me! They almost worry me to death with the shoals of letters they send in, entreating me, by all the gods, to give their effusions a trial. Come in."

stage-manager, to inquire who was to replace It was a man of steady, quiet demeanour-the Madame Vertot, she having refused to play any longer?

"Well, if she won't, of course there's no help for it; and I am not particularly sorry for it; she wasn't half a bad actress, but then her temper, Bateman, her temper was that of the devil."

“Yes, sir; she had a battle royal with Mr. Thomson, the tragedy-man, and swore in French that she would kill him; but it is very annoying that she leaves in the height of the season, and when the piece was getting such a run.”

tised, and got an answer; the lady is coming "I daresay we can replace her. I have adverthis morning."

Bateman quitted the room silently and quietly as he had entered, and the manager turned to his work again.

a

Another tap; this time it was a servant, with
card--" Madame Brabazon."
"Show the lady up, please."

And in answer to the summons entered

3.