obliged to retreat into safer quarters. Close to the docks are the Custom-House and Exchange, right in the midst of the haunts of the Liverpool merchants, a name which gained such unenviable notoriety some nine years ago in consequence of a certain letter sent to the modern Cæsar. The landing-stage is a very lively place, steamboats departing and arriving every minute. Seeing so many different sorts of people continually passing to and fro in one place, reminded me of a set scene in a grand opera at the "garden;" and I could almost imagine that Mr. Augustus Harris had been specially engaged to superintend the grouping, and that Mr. W. H. Payne would suddenly appear as the principal citizen. Once I was sold. Seeing a green space in the map marked "Recreation Grounds," I thought I would go there and recreate myself; but I found only a small enclosed space, apparently without an entrance, entirely deserted, and looking more like a "pound" than anything else. Not far off is Everton, the realization of the Sweetstuff palace of the fairy tale; or rather a sweetstuff village, the inhabitants of which mostly, in some way or the other, get their living by the manufacture and sale of the famous toffee. If I had only been a schoolboy, with a shilling or two in my pocket, what a happy day I might have passed in Everton, and what a week I should have had afterwards. Having reached the years of discretion ("not so certain of that," I hear somebody say), I "did" Everton in five minutes; and then went in search of fresh fields and, but I fancy that expression has been used once too often. The Botanical Gardens looked very pleasant, even at a time of the year when the ground was covered with leaves, and the fair summer flowers were sleeping their long sleep. I cannot say much for the parks. At present they are only in their infancy, and in no way to be compared with the "lungs" of London. And I was surprised to find that, in a large place like Liverpool, no one seemed to take advantage of the breathing-grounds supplied to them by a corporation at last sensible of the advantage of open spaces in large towns. The heavy swells, the dainty daughters of fashion, the perambulator-wheeling nursemaids, with their tall, military attendants, the ragged children playing at "touch" amongst the trees, so familiar to Londoners, had no representatives in Liverpool. I sat some time in one of the parks, and was only passed by an errand-boy and a postman, who only used the place as a short cut. Theatrically speaking, Liverpool indeed can be proud. Such handsome and comfortable theatres, such actors and actresses, and such critical audiences, have their equal nowhere, taking them all together. Liverpool is now the recognised school of the drama. Andrew Halliday, who ought to know something about the stage, in an "All the Year Round" article, called Liverpool a "Seat of Theatres; and the author of King o' Scots," could not have given it a better name. No matter where you go, you are sure to come across some Temple of 66 the Drama; either a handsome building lately erected by some enterprising capitalist, or else a tumble-down house, famous for its ancient tradition. Many of our principal dramatic authors prefer having their plays brought out in Liverpool, knowing that if they there gain a favourable reception, their success is certain everywhere else. Byron's "Lancashire Lass," Robertson's "Lady Clara Vere de Vere," and Gilbert's burlesque of "The Vivandiére," all first saw the light of the Liverpool lamps. During my visit, Italian Opera reigned at the Alexandra, and Mr. Mapleson's "stars" were nightly drawing crowded houses. At the Amphitheatre, Barry Sullivan and Miss Kate Saville were doing the legitimate; and the way that Shakspeare was appreciated gave a good idea of the intellectual capabilities of the inhabitants. Perhaps the prettiest theatre in Liverpool is the Prince of Wales's, the Strand of the North. Under the régime of Mr. Henderson, and afterwards of Mr. H. J. Byron (a native), this theatre became one of the best known in the provinces; and its present manager, Mr. Frank Musgrave (late musical conductor of the Strand), seems determined to follow in their footsteps. With a burlesque company, including Misses E, Johnstone, Jenny White, and Hughes (who does not recollect the latter with Robson at the Olympic !) the performances could even be compared with those at our New Royalty or Strand. The Adelphi theatre in Christian Street, went in for the sensational; but what amused me most was the Coliseum. Certainly not an aristocratic audience, by no means a star company, but what melo-dramas! I seemed to be in a theatre of the last century, The general appearance of this theatre reminded me of the old Effingham before it was turned into the New East London. Smoking was allowed; the audience fought and quarrelled between the acts; and when the sensation scene came, everybody stood upon the seats. Here I saw, of course, a version of "After Dark," express train and all; and here I saw (extremely well played, too), a long-forgotten piece, "Sweeny Todd, the Barber of Fleet Street." Liverpool is also well off in Music Halls, from the "Star" in Williamson-square down to "penny gaffs" and free concert-rooms; but as at most places well-known London performers were engaged, who sang songs they had been singing months back in the metropolis, the entertainments wanted the charm of novelty as far as I was concerned. But wherever I went, I always found crowded audiences, who perfectly understood the rules of music-hall etiquette, two of which seem to be: "Always invite your neighbours to drink out of your glass;" and "Join in the chorus whether you know the words or not." Liverpool is certainly literary, although the newspapers are not up to much; but there is a weekly comic journal, "The Porcupine," which combines the best features of "Punch," « Fun,” and "The Tomahawk," and is perfectly original notwithstanding. "The Porcupine" is a paper to be read, not merely to be " looked at." I was surprised to see no reviews, and a town like Liverpool should certainly boast of at least one monthly magazine; for many men, famous in the world of letters, hail from the city on the Mersey, amongst whom was poor Robert Brough, who gave us so many pictures of Liverpool society. Liverpool is a great city, with a little of the American element about it, and it is increasing both in size and population every day. Beyond the town are colonies of villas, large, handsome houses, with coach-houses and stabling; and further on, every available plot of ground appears to be given up to bricks and mortar-a sure sign of increasing wealth and prosperity. But at present Liverpool, especially young Liverpool, is much too fast. Like all people who have suddenly become wealthy, the Liverpudlians play at ducks and drakes with their money, bargaining, speculating, buying and selling all day, and going in for unmistakeable " high ginks" all night. Liverpool is nothing if not commercial; and though commerce showers her favours thickly on her favourites, if they neglect paying her sufficient homage, she has her revenge by condemning them to universal smash. But literature, science, and art, are making gigantic strides; and I think there is a brilliant future for the Second City in the Land. OUR PARIS CORRESPONDENT. MY DEAR C, It is a bad state of things methinks, when the indisposition of one man can spread alarm all over Europe, stagnate commerce, and make everything depend on the daily bulletin of his health. So it is when Napoleon III. passes an agitated night or loses his appetite, or is unable to show himself to the anxious Parisians. It may be very flattering to his Majesty's vanity, but I repeat, it is a bad state of things. There has been a complete panic for this last month in Paris, and so contradictory have the newspapers and public rumours been as to the danger of the Dictators malady, that we have not known what to believe. No doubt there has been great exaggeration on both sides, as there ever is on such occasions, particularly when it was known that an additional physician had been called in, and that the Emperor remained in bed, which, it seems, he readily does when indisposed. If his Majesty has had the twentieth part of the different diseases accorded him by his affectionate subjects, his recovery is a perfect miracle, but as to say truly what he has been suffering from I know not which to choose. However, he has been out several times in his carriage, has gained his appetite and the Empress her usual serenity and spirits, and her projected oriental journey is again become probable, although it had been entirely abandoned. Her visit to Corsica with the Prince Imperial was saddened with anxiety, and was no doubt realized at that moment in order to calm public disquietude. The Corsicans of course were overjoyed to welcome the august lady and her son to their island, the cradle of the Napoleon race. The night they returned to St. Cloud, the Emperor detained the young prince by his bedside until past midnight, listening to the child's account of his journey, his observations and pleasure. Since it has been proposed to create his Imperial Highness Duke of Corsica, others have asked for him to be made king of Algiers. The Corsicans have never yet had a duke, but they have had one king, who reigned over them during eight months with despotic sway, satisfying his passions and hanging his subjects without ceremony. All have heard of the singular adventures of the famous Theodore de Neuhoff, once lieutenant in the regiment de la March, belonging to the Duke of Orleans, and who at last, possessing nothing in the world but creditors in every kingdom in Europe, went to try his fortune in Corsica, at the moment that those hardy mountaineers were up in arms against Genoa. They greeted Theodore de Neuhoff with enthusiasm and proclaimed him king, and a regular king Stork he proved. At the end of eight months his Majesty perceiving that his popularity was gradually declining, and fearing his vindicative subjects, very wisely left them privately, by escaping on board a fisherman's boat, to Leghorn, where he was immediately accosted by a vigilant creditor. In vain he offered his kingdom in pawn; the place became too warm for him, and after many ups and downs, he at last managed to escape to London, where he died. Horace Walpole gave him a tombstone, on which he had engraved: "Fortune accorded him a kingdom and refused him bread." During the Emperor's illness the papers again took up the subject of who should succeed him in the event of death, and the Opinion Nationale" warmly sustained the Prince Napoleon's candidature, either, as Emperor or Regent, for evidently the Regency would conduct to sovereignty. The Prince is proud of his resemblance to Napoleon I, and no doubt counts on that and his talent, but he is not very prpular. He passes for being afraid of risking his person before powder and shot; and, although he professes very liberal principles, he cannot forget that his mother was a German princess of ancient race, and his wife an Italian princess-royal of no less pure blood. His late speech at the Senate was as usual very eloquent, and it so annoyed the late Prime Minister, Mr. Rouher, that he bounded again in his presi dential chair in thinking that he was no longer minister, and could not answer the prince. However, the famous Senatus-Consulte is voted, and it appears that a new era of liberty is about to gleam forth on France-responsible ministers and a constitutional Emperor. Time will prove. Report also says that in March, when the Prince Impertal will have attained his 14th year, the Emperor intends abdicating in his favour, reviving an old custom in the French royal annals, of declaring the heir to the throne of age at 14. The young prince was said to have exclaimed at his first communion, that as soon as he was emperor, he would banish every other religion from his dominions except Roman catholicism. Strange principles to have inculcated into the young mind of a prince issue of the Revolution! Apropos of the quarrel you are having in England about Mrs. Beecher Stowe's assertion that she has found out the real cause of Lord Byron's separation from his wife. The poet was black enough without embellishment, and methinks they might let him rest in peace in his tomb. His once beautiful mistress, the Countess Guiccioli, now the famous Marchioness de Boissy, protests against what the American authoress says; and she affirms that she has daily intercourse still with the noble poet, and that before witnesses. Doctor Cérise, two years ago, assisted at one of these visits of his Lordship's spirit. The lady addressed a letter to the poet, then put a large sheet of foolscap paper, such as Byron used to write on, before her, then she fell into a kind of transport, raised her eyes to Heaven, and her hand, hold There has been great dissatisfaction amongsting a pen, ran over the paper after a few minutes, the liberal party about the way Ledru-Rollin is treated by the amnesty, he alone being excepted in the general pardon, and that under the plea that he was complicated in an attempt to assassinate the Emperor. But the complicity has never been proved, and the Government certainly does Ledru-Rollin too much honour in rendering him so important a person. An exile always creates sympathy. The opening of the shooting season has emptied Paris of what remained of Parisians who possess a piece of ground out of the capital, or even who have friends that can offer them a field or wood to try their skill in. No man who has the least claim to fashion or to be somebody, could pass through September without shouldering his gun and wandering forth in quest of partridges; though I have seen many when once in the country, and far from those who know them, get behind a hay-stack, pick a comfortable corner, pull out a cigar and book, and leave the partridges in perfect security, to chirp about with their pretty little ones, as if September had yet to dawn. a The sea-side season has not been very agreeable, so much wind and cold, and yet Trouville has again been full of company, many attracted by the ex-C -Queen of Spain, who spent a month there with her family. Her mother, the Queen Christine, was at Havre, and during the daughter's sojourn at Trouville, she and her husband went to Havre to pay their respects to Christine. They went by steamer, and the captain hoisted the Spanish flag in compliment to their Majesties' presence, which courtesy ruffled the Spanish Consul's temper, and he was about, if he did not ask, an explanation. The meeting of the two dethroned monarchs rather amused the French spectators, for as soon as Isabella and her husband landed, Christine, who was on the pier waiting them, opened her arms to receive her son-in-law; he, instead of running into them, fell down at her feet and gallantly kissed her hand. General Prim has been in Paris, it was said that the Emperor would not give him audience; however, his Majesty received the General at St. Cloud, and had a long conversation with him. as if pushed by some unseen force, wholly without the lady's will, her eyes continually fixed on high. The letter announced, that day, that an American author was about writing a book on his (Lord Byron's) life, full of horrible and false things. It does seem odd that Mrs. Beecher Stowe should have made a discovery in the poet's life, after the researches of small hosts of enemies, that would have so sweetly gloried in adding another sin to the sinning nobleman's account-and infamy, too! 66 We have just lost an aged publicist, who was once the terror of all actors and actresses. Monsieur Charles Maurice died more than eighty years of age. He flourished when Mdlle. Georges and Talma excited the enthusiasm of the Parisians, and was then editor of the Courrier des Théatres, and wo be to those who mounted the stage without subscribing to his paper. "The elephant Cunny plays to-night at the Port St. Martin; Mdile. Georges also makes her debut at the Odéon-curione coincidence!" Mdlle. Georges was very stout and had not subscribed to his Courrier. The next night: Masons are employed ever since yesterday to prop up the theatre; it shook when Mdlle Georges entered." The actress bit her lips, but resisted. "Yesterday the king passed a review in the Champ de Mars, in the midst of torrid heat; the perspiration ran down the soldiers' faces. All at once a refreshing sensation passed over them, a shade darkened the sun, it was Mdlle. Georges that passed, and her shadow intercepted the burning rays." The lady was obliged to submit, and hostilities ceased. Talma, in all the lustre of his genius, was a more difficult foe; Maurice could find nothing to exercise his criticisms on; however, one day he wrote: "Talma is inimitable, the majesty of his gestures in particular is something wonderful. He has three that are really remarkable. The first consists in placing his hand on his heart (No. 1); the second in stretching out his arms before him (No. 2); the next in throwing his two arms before and in bringing them grace. fully on his bosom (No. 3)." Talma laughed, but did not take the Courrier. The day Maurice wrote "Talma was marvellous next in Horace,' particular in the gesture number | two. At the moment of the imprecations his development of number three was beautiful: and, as to number one, we applauded him in it several times during the evening. He was so satisfied with himself in it, that he repeated it several times on purpose. The next day Talma himself visited the stinging critic, and made his peace with him. Maurice, of course, was often obliged to fight, and his wife kept an alphabetical list in a book of his duels, to refer to when asked whether he had measured his sword with this or that person. He was also one of the last in Paris to wear a pigtail. Dantan, the sculptor, was taken away very suddenly a few days ago. He leaves a name honoured amongst artists. His Wellington, Vestris, Count d'Orsay, Lord Brougham, and Adelaide Kemble are well known. He possessed a most extraordinary memory in his art, and could make the bust of a person from once seeing him. A Russian gentleman, of a certain age, very much desired to have the bust of his wife. The lady refused to sit for it. Dantan was told by the husband that his wife went every day, at such an hour, in the omnibus, to see her sister. Dantan undertook to satisfy the husband's wishes, so took his place in the omnibus opposite the lady, went home, and a little while after he sent to inform the Russian that the bust was finished. The husband hastened to the atelier; he shook his head : "That is not my wife, who is young and beautiful. You have taken the lady that sat beside her, a middle-aged friend of hers." Talking of sculpture, the group that has been so much criticized before the new opera-house, and on which some one threw a bottle of ink, has been cleaned by a chemist, and all the ink has disappeared. A wit states that M. Ségur d'Aguesseau says in one of his speeches that his "hair stood up at an end on his head only to make people believe that he still had some hair on his head. and another affirms that, when a gentleman told a would-be young baroness that there was a grey hair in her head, she exclaimed that it was impossible: it must be in her false chignon! Madame G. Sand's pretty tale, "La petite Fadette," has been reset to music, and is to be represented at the Opera Comic. The female dressmakers are about dethroning the male ones. The last new creations in female attire, worn by two actresses noted for their great taste, were made by women. Short dresses are to reign during this winter, they say on all occasions. Au revoir, S. A. MADAM WALDO BOROUGH'S CARRIAGE. address, and we were clattering away towards the Rue des Vieux Augustins, when I remembered, with a sinking of the heart I trust you may never experience, that I had not six francs in the world-at least in this part of the worldthanks to my Todworth cousin; that I had, in fact, only fifteen paltry sous in my pocket! "Arrived at the Hotel Waldoborough, accordingly, I stepped out of the coupé, and helped out the ladies and the lap-dog, and was going in with them, as a matter of course. But the Spider said, 'Do not give yourself ze pain, Monsieur!' and relieved me of King Francis. And Madam said, 'Shall I order the driver to be paid? or will you retain the coupé? You will want it to take you home. Well, good day,' offering me two fingers to shake. I am very happy to have met you; and I hope I shall see you at my next reception. Thursday eve-ingly, 'attendez !' ning, remember; I receive Thursday evenings. Cocher, vous emporterez ce monsieur chez lui, comprennez?' "Bien, Madame!' says the cocher. "Bonjour, Monsieur!' says Arachne, gayly, tripping up the stairs with the king in her arms. "I was stunned. For a minute I did not know very well what I was about; indeed, I should have done very differently if I had had my wits about me. I stepped back into the coupé, weary, disheartened, hungry; my dinnerhour was past long ago; it was now approaching Madam's dinner-hour, and I was sent away fasting. What was worse, the coupé was left for me to pay for. It was three hours since it had been ordered; price, two francs an hour; total, six francs. I had given the driver my "Here was a scrape! I had ridden in Madam Waldoborough's carriage with a vengeance! Six francs to pay! and how was I ever to pay it? Cocher! cocher!' I cried out, despair Qu'est-il?' says the cocher, stopping promptly. "Struck with the appalling thought that every additional rod we travelled involved an increase of expense, my first impulse was to jump out and dismiss him. But then came the more frightful nightmare fancy, that it was not possible to dismiss him unless I could pay him! I must keep him with me until I could devise some means of raising the six francs, which an hour later would be eight francs, and an hour later ten francs, and so forth. Every moment that I delayed payment swelled the debt, like a ruinous rate of interest, and diminished the possibility of ever being able to pay him at all. And of course I could not keep him with me for ever-go about the world henceforth in a hired coach, with a driver and span of horses impossible to get rid of. "Que veut, Monsieur?' says the driver, looking over at me with his red face, and waiting for my orders. "That recalled me from my hideous reverie. I knew I might as well be travelling as standing still, since he was to be paid by the hour; so I said, 'Drive on, drive faster!' "I had one hope-that on reaching my lodgings I might prevail upon the concierge to pay for the coach. I stepped out with alacrity, said gayly to my coachman, Combien est-ce que je vous dois ?' and put my hand in among my fifteen sous with an air of confidence. "The driver looked at his watch, and said, with business-like exactness, Six francs vingtcinq centimes, Monsieur.' Vingt-cinq centimes! My debt had increased 25 cents. whilst I had been thinking about it! Avec quelquechose pour la boisson,' he added with a persuasive smile. With a trifle besides for drink-money; for that every French driver expects. "Then I appeared to discover, to my surprise, that I had not the change; so I cried out to the old woman in the porter's lodge, 'Give this man six francs for me, will you?' 'Six francs! echoed the ogress, with astonishment: 'Monsieur, je n'ai pas le sou!' "I might have known it; of course she wouldn't have a sou for a poor devil like me; but the reply fell upon my heart like a death sentence. "I then proposed to call at the driver's stand and pay him in a day or two, if he would trust me. He smiled and shook his head. "Very well,' said I, stepping back into the coach, drive to number five, Cité Odiot.' I had an acquaintance there, of whom I thought I might possibly borrow. The coachman drove away cheerfully, seeming to be perfectly well satisfied with the situation; he was having employment; his pay was going on, and he could hold me in pledge for the money. We reached the Cité Odiot: I ran in at number five, and up stairs to my friend's room. It was locked; he was away from home. "I had but one other acquaintance in Paris on whom I could venture to call for a loan of a few francs; and he lived far away, across the Seine, in the Rue Racine. There seemed to be no alernative; so away we posted, carrying my ever-increasing debt, dragging at each remove a lengthening chain. We reached the Rue Racine; I found my friend; I wrung his hand. For Heaven's sake,' said I, help me to get rid of this Old Man of the Sea-this elephant won in a raffle!' I explained. He laughed. What a funny adventure!' says he. 'And how curious that at this time, of all others, I haven't ten sous in the world! But I'll tell you what I can do,' says he. "For mercy's sake, what ?' "I can get you out of the private passage, take you through de la Harpe, and let you escape. building by a into the Rue Your coach. man will remain waiting for you at the door until you have traversed half Paris. That will be a capital point to the joke, a splendid finale for your little comedy!' "I confess to you that, perplexed and desperate as I was, I felt for an instant tempted to accept this infamous suggestion. Not that I would willingly have wronged the coachman; but since there was no hope of doing him justice, why not do the best thing for myself? If I could not save my honour, I might at least save my person. And I own that the picture of him which presented itself to my mind, waiting at the door so complacently, so stolidly, intent only on sticking by me at the rate of two francs an hour until paid of, without feeling a shadow of sympathy for my distress, but secretly laughing at it, doubtless-that provoked me; and I was pleased to think of him waiting there still, after I should have escaped, until at last his beaming red face would suddenly grow purple with wrath, and his placidity change to consternation, on discovering that he had been outwitted. But I knew too well what he would do. He would report me to the police! Worse than that, he would report me to Madam Waldoborough! "Already I fancied him, with his whip under his arm, smilingly taking off his hat, and extending his hand to the amazed and indignant lady, with a polite request that she would pay for that coupé! What coupé? And he would tell his story, and the Goddess would be thunderstruck; and the eyes of the Spider would sparkle wickedly; and I should be damned forever! "Then I could see the Parisian detectives (the best in the world) going to take down from the lady's lips a minute description of the adventurer, the swindler, who had imposed upon them, and attempted to cheat a poor hack-driver out of his hard-earned wages! No,' said I; 'tis impossible! If you can't help me to the money, I must try-but where, how can I hope to raise eight francs (for it is four hours by this time, to say nothing of the drink-money!)-how can I ever hope to raise that sum in Paris?' "You can pawn your watch,' says my false friend, rubbing his hands, and smiling, as if he really enjoyed the comicality of the thing. "But I had already eaten my watch, as the French say it had been a week at the Mont de Piété. "Your coat then,' says my counsellor, with good-mannered unconcern. "And go in my shirt-sleeves?" for I had of my landlord, as scurity for the payment of placed my trunk and its contents in the charge my board and room-rent. "In that case, I don't see what you will do, unless you take my original advice, and dodge the fellow.' "I left my fair-weather acquaintance in disgust, and went off, literally staggering under the load, the ever-increasing load, the Pelion |