A LETTER FROM LORD ARTHUR." MR. WEEDON GROSSMITH, who was over here with the Vokes company, and who made such a hit as Lord Arthur Somersault in "A Pantomine Rehearsal," is now in London, preparing for his second trip to America. He writes an interesting letter to the Chicago Saturday Evening Herald as follows:

MY DEAR UNOMI: At last! Well, better late than never. We shall be in Chicago, I believe, on October 18, when I shall tell you many things. My last year's Academy picture, which will be reproduced in the Christmas number of the London Graphic, is now in New York. As we shall be in Chicago a month, this, with one or two other important works which I intend bringing with me to America, will be on view in your city. The Academy picture was hung in the place of honor in one of the rooms, and created a sensation.

Frank Holl, R. A., the great portrait painter, tells me he sails for New York on October 23.

He goes over to specially paint some prominent people in New York. They have been trying their best to get him over the last two years. He has at last consented, and will look upon the trip as a Holl-iday, but will have to postpone some very important commissions in England to do so. I don't know whether he will visit Chicago, but I think he ought to.

We have got some awfully strong pieces this season to play. I am engaged as the leading man. W. G. Elliot and Courtenay Thorpe and Miss Miller are coming. Miss Chester is rehearsing a piece in London. We have got three or four very pretty girls, so beauty will be well represented.

I am very much interested in the chaps who have been swimming the Niagara Rapids, and would have given anything to have had a full account in an American paper. I want to know what was the conversation of the two fellows who went down in a tub. Did they discuss the present state of trade or the Canadian fishery question? I would like to know.

BOTH SIDES OF THE CURTAIN.

THE "dog days" have passed and the "dog drama" expired nearly a quarter of a century ago. The dramatic dog, however, still exists, and is yearly becoming more popular. When the "dog drama" flourished, a pantomimic actor trained a couple of canines to perform certain tricks, the most important of which was the seizing of the red rag the villain of the play carried round his throat. The "Forest of Bondy, or the Dog of Montargis," was, I think, the most popular of the dog dramas, and, I fancy, there are many old play-goers in New York, who remember when Mr. Blanchard, with two trained mastiffs, made fame and | fortune in the theatres of the Bowery. It used to be the custom at that time for the stage manager to appear before the curtain on a night previous to a great occasion and announce the special attraction in preparation. Mr. Blanchard was to have a "benefit certain Friday night at the old Bowery Theatre, and on Thursday, Mr. Louis Mestayer, the stage manager, came before the curtain and soberly announced that "to-morrow night's performance would be for the benefit of Mr. Blanchard and the other dogs." When behind the curtain Mr. Mestayer explained that his remark was a slip of the tongue, but Mr. Blanchard, who declared he hadn't "forgotten his Latin, said that Mr. Mestayer couldn't fool him with a "slapsus slingum.'

on a

THE dramatic dogs of the present day are, strange to say, the play-goers of provincial towns within easy distance of New York. A long time ago Brooklyn was the theatrical dog on whom new plays were tried. The sister city was soon found too adjacent, and Newark succeeded to the questionable honor of being the playwright's scapegoat. Newark was also found too contiguous, and hence New Haven has been selected as the hunting ground of playwrights who fear their fate too much to trust it to the metropolis. Last week no less than four new productions were tried on the New Haven dog, and judging from the fact that while the dog lived through them all, and three plays perished, the remaining one, "Tangled Lives," by J. W. Keller, may be pronounced a success. The New Haven press went into ecstasies about Mr. Mantell, who owns the play, and Mr. Keller, who wrote it; but the soberer and more ascetic Boston critics are coldly encouraging. The audiences, however, appear to be unboundingly enthusiastic, and there is little doubt that Tangled Lives is a genuine success. The wisdom of trying it on the New Haven dog was amply justified by the result, as one half of the play was rewritten between its initial performance in New Haven and its first production in Boston.

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Talking of trying it on a dog, I remember Mrs. Mary Fiske, the famous first-nighter, correspondent and critic, was invited to a dog trial at Newark. She arrived at that city, accompanied by a pug, which she calmly nursed When the during the entire performance. curtain fell on the new play the author rushed out and asked Mrs. Fiske what she thought of the play. She pointed to the pug and said, 'You see the animal lives. To be sure he looks weak and worn, but life still lingers in his breast." This somewhat enigmatical reply confounded the playwright, and I really forget what became of his drama.

APROPOS of first nights and new plays, let me commend to you the economical system adopted by certain journals which devote most of their space to musical and theatrical affairs. They give much prominence to "telegraphic news, which invariably announces prodigious and triumphant successes. One morning I noticed a considerable reduction in the telegraphic news of a certain journal, and having occasion to visit its office, asked for an explanation. The editor merely explained that the theatrical managers had not sent many dispatches. "Ah, then," I innocently remarked, "these telegrams come from the managers, and not from your correspondents." course," was the answer, "we're not such fools as to spend money for telegraphing. The managers send the telegrams and pay for them and we print them." And thereby," I ventured to remark, you get honest and unprejudiced opinion." The reply was "Of course," and I left that editor, disgusted with him, not for his business methods, but for his failure to see my scathing sarcasm.

་་

"Of

THE poet Browning has many admirers in this country and more than a few in New York. These latter are asking why Mr. Lawrence Barrett does not revive the English poet's play, 'The Blot on the 'Scutcheon," acted for the first time on any stage by Mr. Barrett two years ago. To be sure, the little tragedy was not much of a pecuniary success, the story being repulsive and the action slow; but there was much good poetry in it, and Mr. Barrett as the hero was seen at his best. Hence there have been numerous inquiries about Browning's play. The actors of Mr. Barrett's company are not by any means sorry that "The Blot on the 'Scutcheon" has been shelved. was for two seasons an instrument of torture to them. If things went wrong at night, Mr. Barrett mercilessly used Mr. Browning as a punishment, and before the actors left the theatre they saw a notice which read "The Blot at 10 A. M." which meant that a rehearsa! of Mr. Browning's hated play would take place next morning. The real reason of Mr. Louis

It

James's defection from the Barrett forces has never been made public, but I shouldn't be surprised if successive "Blots at 10" had something to do with it.

VERY young play-goers are somewhat startled as well as amused at the tricks played in Mlle. Aimée's "Ma'amselle," by which actors appear in private boxes and other parts of the auditorium, and take a share in the performance. This device is, however, very old. The first use of it that I can discover occurred in Maddison Morton's famous farce of "Slasher and Crasher," first played about forty years ago at the Adelphi Theatre, London. In this really "screaming farce" Slasher chases Crasher all over the stage, rushes him in and out of private boxes, and chivies him through pit and gallery. A marked, indeed, and almost incredible peculiarity of "Slasher and Crasher" was that during its first run, it was "encored nightly." Songs and dances have been encored without number, but a whole farce repeated is something marvelous. It happens, however, that when the curtain rises on this farce the whole cast are standing in the traditional semi-circle as though the play was just over. Old Blowhard speaks the "tag," giving one of his nieces to Slasher and another to Crasher, and is just thanking "his kind friends in front when, as the curtain is half-way down, a messenger rushes on with a letter. The curtain remains half-way down while Blowhard reads the letter. Having finished it, he gives the signal, the curtain rises again, and the farce begins. Of course when it is over, the characters again form the semi-circle, and Blowhard speaks the tag. The audience on the first night, a little bewildered by this ingenious device, soon appreciated its humor and called for an encore. The management protested,

but the audience refused to leave their seats. The players were compelled to act the farce all over again, and for months afterwards the Adelphi play-bills contained the unprecedented announcement of a farce "encored nightly."

MR. ARCHIE GUNTER will have to look out for his laurels. He produced "Prince Karl," at the Madison Square Theatre, as an original comedy-drama. At Manchester, England, recently, a play was acted for the first time called "My Cousin," which proves to have every scene and incident of Prince Karl." The author of " My Cousin" candidly admits that he adapted the play from the German. Now, did Mr. Gunter adapt " Prince Karl" from the German, or is the resemblance between the work of the American and Teutonic dramatists

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one of those "literary coincidences" we so frequently hear about ?

MR. ROBERT JOHNSTON, a veteran actor, has just completed a prodigious work. It is ica," and is a history of all the actors who have called "The American Encyclopedia Dramatappeared upon the American stage since the advent of the first players on this continent. All the by-ways of the drama have long biographical notices to themselves, and Mr. Johnston has collected nearly three hundred authentic portraits of the famous players of the past. The author has spent nearly three years of labor on the "Encyclopedia Dramatica," and the work consists of eleven thousand pages of MS. All Mr. Johnston now wants is a publisher. Gentlemen, do not all speak at once.

MR. JOE JEFFERSON has been acting for nearly fifty years, and until last week it was his proud boast that never from sickness, accident or design had he disappointed an audience. To be sure, of late years he has played seasons of three months only, but still there is something to boast of in fifty years' faithful service. Mr. Jefferson's noble record was, however, broken last week, when he failed to appear at the Opera House of St. Paul, Minnesota. The failure was due to a slight attack of incipient paralysis, which happily passed off after a few days' rest, and the great comedian is again on his legs and delighting large audiences out West.

MR. JEFFERSON's prodigious popularity as Rip Van Winkle with our western citizens was notably illustrated by an incident I have heard him relate with much quiet satisfaction. He was doing "one-night stands " in Indiana, and arriving late at his destination, was informed by his manager that the advance agent must have "jumped this town," as not a poster, lithograph or announcement was out concerning the performance. Mr. Jefferson was pleased rather than disappointed. He had traveled much, and was fatigued. He knew that his company were in the same condition, so he told them there would be no performance that night, and invited them to dine with him and have a good time. They all dined wisely and well, and were just beginning to have the "good time," when the manager rushed into the room urging them to get ready to act. "But I thought the agent had jumped' this town," said Mr. Jefferson. "So I thought," replied the manager, "but it seems that a fortnight ago a three-line paragraph appeared in the local paper giving the date of your performance, and in four days the house was all sold out." The merry party broke up and went to the theatre, and Mr. Jefferson to this day is not sure whether he was proud or disappointed that night.

The Man in the Street.

about in men's clothes. broke into a convent. way. She repented, and religious retreat.

Our singers in opera comique, operetta and bouffe do not, nowadays, lead an existence quite as adventurous as that of La Maupin ; but, as I will, in a rambling way, endeavor to show, their lives are interesting for all that. Though we live in a prosaic, analytic age, we are still under the magic charm of stage illusion, our interest is

still aroused and held by the rumors that float to us from the lobby and the green-room. Mathilde Cottrelly had a hard time of it in her youth. Her father, leader of opera in Hamburg, died when she was a mere child and left her penniless. She made her first bow to an audience in her eighth year, played minor parts in melodrama; danced Spanish dances; sang German songs. At fifteen, when she had risen to be the leading soubrette at the Vaudeville Theatre of Berlin, she suddenly lost her voice. A dashing, headstrong girl, with gray eyes, fine, fluffy hair, a most mocking mouth, she chafed under the misfortune. Perhaps it was at this

I.-MME. COTTRELLY

AND

LILLIAN RUSSELL.

Fay

period that she made that curt remark to a bore in swallow-tail coat, who entered her dressingroom and said:

"Fraulein, I come merely to wish you good evening."

"O, there would have been time enough for that to-morrow morning."

Fortunately, her voice came back to her and she renewed her triumphs. It was during a Russian tour that she met George Cottrell, an Englishman, and became his wife. The favorite did not leave the stage, however, by reason of a little event like that.

When in 1875 she made her first visit to America, Cottrelly was heralded as the leading soubrette of the Wallner Theatre at Berlin. She opened at the Germania in this city, in her native tongue, and followed up her luck here in some of the large cities throughout the country. With pluck and perseverance she speedily mastered our language. Her début in English was made in 1879, at the Thalia. "Fatinitza" was the play. The critics applauded so much tact and refinement, mingled so dexterously with hoydenish impertinence. They admired even her accent. gave the flavor of Johanisberger to her work. Cottrelly managed the theatre herself in those days, introduced Geistinger to New York, worked at new rôles, appeared in "Boccaccio," and the "Royal Middy."

It

In

the midst of all this bustle she kept her high spirits and pert good humor.

"

She made repeated hits as Irene in "The Queen's Lace Handkerchief," as Elsa in 'The Merry War," as Brainslava in "The Beggar Student," as Heloise in "Apajune," Flederas Adele in maus," and as Barbara in "The Black Hussar." Versatile, intelligent, with a thorough knowledge of stage business, whether impersonating a rakish lieutenant of to-day or a powdered gentleman of a century ago, she is an artist to the tips of her fingers. You

can best judge of her cleverness as a vocalist, perhaps, by that ingenious bit of song in "Chatter," and also in "Josephine," which they translate into "Comes a birdie a-flying."

Therein, as you remember, she shows how the composers of different schools would treat a simple air, and she captures the house with it every time. When in town Madame Cottrelly lives in an uptown flat, and does not allow excellent breakfasts and dinners to interfere with her professional duties. She is easy of access; has the free and genial way of a Viennese, rather than of a Ber-i linese, and is spicy in her talk. "I always see him to the door," she

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The place is fitted up with an eye to elegant comfort. Heavy rugs lie on the waxed floor. Mahogany furniture, rich with plush, decked with ribbons, lends a neo-antique charm. Pictures, some drawn by the mistress of the domain, cover the walls; articles of bric-a-brac, with unstudied art, lie scattered around. Lillian Russell is, of course, the chief attraction of this delightful nook. Next to her is her two-year-old child, Lillie. The tot lisps some song to her parent's piano accompaniment, and fills the rooms with gladness.

'Snake Charmer" at the Bijou. They became perfect devotees of "Patience " at the Casino. Just at this time, in the midst of all the bravos of the gentlemen with bangs and a monocle, she suddenly disappeared and married Edward Solomon, leader of the orchestra, composer of the "Silver Line," which he had written for her. The couple went to England, and the fair American played at the Gayety and Novelty in Polly," in Pocahontas," in Billee Taylor," to good houses. The theatre-goer who only sees Lillian Russell as she trips toward the footlights would be surprised to get a peep at her in the quiet domestic surroundings of her flat on Lexington avenue.

Lewis Rosenthal.

MRS. LANGTRY'S NEW ROLE.

ONE of the most amusing incidents on record, relative to the Jersey Lily, is related by Mr. Alfred Foote, of Philadelphia, who is a world-famed collector of mineralogical specimens.

Last summer Mr. Foote decided to explore the land of fair Mexico, and had been over considerable territory and collected quite a number of valuable specimens, when he happened to stop over Sunday at a small town in the interior.

Being accustomed to pay his usual devotions, and no other church being in the town, other than one of Romish faith, he turned his footsteps thither, and arrived just as early mass was being concluded. After the service Mr. Foote loitered around the edifice, looking at the various curiosities and paintings that adorned the walls of the building, and while deeply engaged in admiration of one painting, much superior to the others, he was approached by the Rev. Father-in-charge, who thus addressed him in very poor English: "Excuse me, Signor, but I take it that you are either an American or an Englishman, but in either case you are most welcome. What do you think of the paintings of the Church of Our Lady?" Mr. Foote expressed his admiration for them, not wishing to hurt