breast of her lover, and uttered a thin, short wail. His eyes did not change their firm stare, but the mighty muscles of his arms rolled up and quivered as he strained at the thongs in an effort to burst them, and his lips writhed into each other. These beasts were to munch her tender body and delicate limbs her true heart to quiver in their fangs! And she-the tremblihg lily by his side-she thought only of him, as the man who kept the beasts began from his safe place on the high cage, to unfasten the door, and thus to let loose Death. Four long bounds of those agile monsters would bear them to the victims ! Slowly the iron bolts were withdrawn, and the door swung round. Nothing but air lay between the hungry red mouths and the nude defenceless bodies. For some moments the tigers did not move, excepting that they seemed rather to writhe crouchingly backward instead of advancing, as if shrinking from the devlish deed. A murmur ran all round that vast ellipse-a murmur of remonstrance and disgust; for now every one saw that the spectacle was to be a foul murder without even the show of a struggle. The alert eyes of Commodus were bent upon the crouching beasts. At the same time he noted well the restlessness and disappointment of the people. He understood his subjects, and knew how to excite them. He was preparing to do a deed by which he hoped to elicit great applause. His triumph came like a thunderbolt. The limbs of the poor girl had begun to give way under her, and she was slowly sinking to the ground. Despite his efforts. she slid down and lay in a helpless heap at his feet. The lines on his manly face deepened, and a slight ashy pallor flickered on brow and eyelids. But he did not tremble. He stood like a statue of Hercules. Then came from the cage the hungry howl, the clashing teeth, the hissing breath of the tigers, along with a sharp clang of the iron bars spurned by their rushing feet. The Circus fairly shook with the plunge of Death toward its victims. Suddenly, the maiden writhed to her feet, and covered the youth's body with her own. How white his face grows! How his eyes flame, immovably fixed upon the coming demons! Those who have often turned up their thumbs in this place for men to die, now hold their breath in utter disgust and sympathy. Fifty thousand faces are thrust forward gazing ; the helpless couple, lost to everything but the black horrors of death, quivering from foot to crown. Think of the marriage vows just taken— of the golden bowl of bliss a moment ago at their young lips. And now, the bounding, flamingeyed tigers! See how one leads the other in the awful race to the feast! The girl is nearer than the man. She will feel the claws and fangs first. How wide those red, frothy mouths gape! How the red tongues loll! The sand flies up in a cloud from the armed feet of the leaping brutes. Suddenly, there came from the place where Commodus stood, a clear musical note such as might have come from the gravest cord of a lyre. Closely followed a keen, far-reaching hiss, like the whisper of fate, ending in a heavy blow! The multitude caught breath and stared. The foremost tiger, while yet in mid-air, curled itself up with a gurgling cry of pain, and with the blood gushing from its eyes, ears and mouth, fell heavily down. Again the twang, the hiss, and the stroke. The second beast fell dead upon the first. The emperor had demonstrated his right to be called the Royal Bowman of the World! But the tyrant was not content to rest here. He gave orders for a shifting of the scene. He was insatiable. The boy and girl, whose backs were turned toward the beasts, were waiting for the crushing horror of their assault. A soldier, as directed, now approached the twain, and, seizing an arm of each, led them some paces farther away from the emperor, where he stationed them facing each other and with their sides to Commodus, who was preparing to shoot again. Before drawing his bow, he cried aloud: "Behold! Commodus will pierce the centre of the ear of each!" As before, the cry was caught up by other voices and echoed around the vast place. The lovers were gazing into each other's eyes, still as statues frozen by the cold of death. A pink flush tinged the small, delicately-turned ear of the maiden, as if the blood were gathering there to be ready to gush from the hideous wound of the arrow. The youth saw this, too, and his eyes glittered with fierce agony. The great horn bow was again raised. A very halo of beauty seemed to quiver and shine around the girl's head. A nameless, frigid fear was at last mastering the noble youth. eyes were beginning to waver, his lips to twitch convulsively. His And now the end was near. All around that vast space, tier above tier, the pallid faces of the spectators rose to a dizzy height, seeming by their ghastly glow to blend a strange light with the fierce glare of the flambeau, so intense was their excite ment. Commodus drew his bow with tremendous power, fetching the cord back to his breast, where for a moment it was held without the faintest quiver of a muscle. His eyes were fixed, and cold as steel. The polished broad head of the arrow shone like a diamond. The breathing of a breath could have been heard across the Circus. Out rang the low note of the great weapon's recoil. The arrow fairly shrieked through the air, so swift was its flight. The youth, was shaken with a sudden wild ecstasy of horror. The girl, thrilled with ineffable pain, flung up her white arms above her head, the rent thongs flying away in the paroxysm of her final struggle. Hers was a slight body, and the arrow, not imperceptibly impeded by the mark, struck in the sand beyond, and glancing thence whirled far away and rang on the bricks of the spina. Something like a divine smile flashed across her face along with a startling pallor. Again the bow-string rang, and the arrow leaped away to its thrilling work. What a surge the youth made! The cord leaped from his wrists-he clasped the falling girl in his embrace. All eyes saw the arrow hurtling along the sand, after its mission was done. A suppressed moan from a multitude of lips filled the calm air of the Circus. Locked for one brief moment in each other's arms, the quivering victims wavered on their feet, then sank down upon the ground. Commodus stood like Fate, leaning forward to note the perfectness of his execution. His eyes blazed with the eager, heartless fire of triumph. The fated lovers lay in awful agony, locked in the strong embrace of a deathless passion. No hand dared separate them; no lip dared whisper them a last farewell. The place might have been a vast tomb, for all the sign of life it contained. The circles of countless faces were like those of the dead. The two tigers lay in their blood where they had fallen, each with a broad-headed arrow through the spinal cord, at the point of its juncture with the brain. The emperor's aim had been absolutely cent seats are equally as good. The difference is a railing--that's all. Sig. Faranta (a whole-souled, good-natured Kentuck ian) manages Faranta's, and the best seats are priced thirty-five cents. I have seen Janish, Countess D'Arco, at the St. Charles ($.00), and I have seen her at the Avenue (thirty-five cents). When you have seen Janish, you have seen something she is very tall, and well-proportioned, Last week I saw Ward (John F., advertised as a comedian) as Higgins, in the "Doctor," at the Academy ($1.00); this week he is at the Avenue (thirty-five cents). Last week I saw Geo, C. Miln in what my wife called that hackneyed thing, Richard III.'" at the Grand Opera House ($1.00); next week he will be at Faranta's (thirty-five cents). What is there peculiar about this city, which brings on this sort of thing? Do not Janish and Miln play in first-class theatres in New York? I mean by "first-class theatres-I mean-er-well, what Mr. Bidwell means, you know-you pay one dollar. Ask your contributors to fathom this matter. What does it all mean, not presently, but in the prospective possibilities or probabilities of the future? I am positive that Uncle Dave, as he is affectionately called by his admirers, tries to do the right and proper thing. I should like to know, though, why to-day I pay one dollar for what I get to-morrow for thirty-five cents? What does it betoken? Is it only the successful experiment of a particular locality, or will it grow? Will it reach you? It has become frequent enough to bar the logic of misfortune to a troupe; stranded. Does it indicate that actors have been paid beyond the value of their service, and they must come down so as to fairly compare, in earnings, with other callings? Does it simply mean that shrewd management is suiting its prices to the pockets of its patrons? Is it we are too poor to pay the price which New York pays for the same article, and we therefore get it for less; or is it that it is the beginning of a new era? I am not writing for publication. I am writing to get the opinions of men who have a larger field to look upon; to men for whose opinions I have much respect-Morton, Trophonius, Rosenthal, and last, and most of all, that "Man in the Street." I have stated the facts, and given the theme-what do they say? Yours truly, E. Evariste Moise, TO MISS **** RAPHAEL BENONI. ***** AS GERTRUDE IN Dear Sir: In "Both Sides of the Curtain" (Vol. III., No. 19) is the following sentence: "Even in the South (usually a profitless field) business is reported to be phenomenal." This has suggested to me to state a few facts, and ask for information. I have heard that actors' profits deteriorate, and their chances of success are injured, when it is generally known that they have performed at a dime," or "cheap" theatre. If you think so, consign my communication to the waste basket. I would not injure any one; yet, my questions may be answered, and no names mentioned. There is not a very large "theatrical world" away down here. I presume, I am one of a class who, by close economy and the unselfish resignation of a good wife (mostly the latter), manage to come, now and then, in contact with this small theatrical world." A dollar is a dollar, and thirty-five cents is thirty-five cts. Mr. Bidwell manages three first-class theatres-Academy, St. Charles, and Grand Opera House-and purports to give "dates" only to first-class attractions (qv. adv.), and charges one dollar for the best seats. Capt. Lowden manages the Avenue Theatre, and, while he charges fifty cents for the best (?) seats, the truth is, the thirty-five "THE LOAN OF A LOVER." THOU wandering seeker for a beauteous sight, Hast ever in thy diverse flight Seen Nature in more,lavish mood? Arrayed With movement light as any fay. How delicate her winsome face! Responsive to the slightest chord Her mind may touch, o'er which her soul may glide. What merry laughter 's in that dimple stood! Which my poor wit (with some success) has tried To draw from out its hiding-place. See, how those eyes dance merrily, While many laughing ripples chase Each other round her mouth in playful glee; And falling round her neck snow-white, Mason Carnes. |