night in his dreams; in his dreams they were re-uttered in the same tenderly harmonious tone and when the morning sun fell brightly on the placid countenance of the sleeper, he woke to spring up, repeating to himself, "de dear Edgar!" THE DRAMA. [Text: Broadway Journal, Aug. 2, 1845.] AT Niblo's Mrs. Mowatt concluded her engagement on the 26th ult. Her last appearance was as the Duchess in Faint Heart Never Won Fair Lady,” and Katherine in Katherine and Petruchio." The former of these pieces is one of the best things of its kind. It has all the neat epigrammatic spirit of the French Vaudeville the ingenuity of its construction is remarkable its incidents are vivid yet natural its characters are well sustained its sentiments are occasionally noble — and, upon the whole, we know nothing of the same nature which combines so much of truthfulness with so much of true jeu d'esprit. Not its least merit is its unity of effect. Nothing, we think, could be better than Mrs. Mowatt's personation of the Duchess. The part, to be sure, affords little opportunity for histrionic display but the astonishment at Ruy Gomez' audacity this astonishment at first merged in indignation then gradually becoming admiration — and this suddenly converted into love were points so admirably managed by the fair actress, as to leave nothing to desire. The beautiful lips of Mrs. Mowatt have, we fear, a singular facility in the expression of contempt. He Miss In Ruy Gomez Mr. Crisp was intolerable. entirely misconceives the character. The Spaniard, as designed by Planché, is a dashing, ardent, chivalric cavalier, urged to the extreme of audacity by the madness of his passion, but preserving through all a true dignity, and the most uncompromising respect for the lady of his love. Mr. Crisp makes him an impudent trickster at times even a vulgar chuckling mountebank-occasionally a simpering buffoon. The Marquis of Santa Cruz was well represented by Nickerson. Taylor spoke and stepped more like a chambermaid than a princess. Even of the Katherine and Petruchio," as Shakspeare conceived it, we have no very exalted opinion. The whole design of the play is not only unnatural but an arrant impossibility. The heart of no woman could ever have been reached by brute violence. But, as this drama originally stood, it contained many redeeming traits of nature and truth. These, it was the opinion of Cibber, interfered with the spirit of the thing, and accordingly he left them out — or if one or two were suffered to remain, our modern managers unsparingly uprooted them. The Katherine and Petruchio" of Niblo's, is absolutely beneath contempt – a mere jumble of unmeaning rant, fuss, whip-smacking, crockery-cracking, and other Tom-Foolery of a similar With a play of this character nothing could be kind. done and as far as we could perceive, nothing was. In taking leave of Mrs. Mowatt for the present, we have only again to record our opinion that, if she be true to herself, she is destined to attain a very high theatrical rank. With the one exception of mere physical force, she has all the elements of a great actress. Her conceptions of character are good. Her most elocution is excellent, although still susceptible of improvement. Her beauty is of the richest and most impressive character. Her countenance is wonderfully expressive. Her self-possession is marvellous. Her step is queenly. Her general grace of manner has never, in our opinion been equalled on the stage decidedly it has never been surpassed. These qualities alone would suffice to assure her a proud triumph-but she possesses a quality beyond all these enthusiasm an unaffected freshness of the heart, the capacity not only to think but to feel. At the Park the French operatic troupe have been delighting large, fashionable, and intellectual audiences, La Juive has been the attraction. The admirable manner in which it is brought upon the stage, cannot be too highly commended. For farther comments on this opera, we refer the reader to our Musical Depart ment. At Castle Garden, Pico has been singing — delightfully, of course, and Herr Cline has been performing his usual wonders upon the tight rope. The audiences have been large and very respectable. At the Chatham a vast number of people without coats, have been thrown into raptures by the representation of "The Female Horsethief," in which the leading character is one Margaret Catchpole, and the leading incident her riding en homme a very lazy and very stupid little horse. WILEY AND PUTNAM'S LIBRARY OF CHOICE READING. [Text: Broadway Journal, Aug. 9, 1845.] Of this number of the Library we said a few words last week- but Hood was far too remarkable a man to be passed over in so cursory a manner. "" 66 Frequently since his recent death,' says the American editor, he has been called a great author, a phrase used not inconsiderately or in vain." Yet if we adopt the conventional idea of "a great author," there has lived, perhaps, no writer of the last half century, who, with equal notoriety, was less entitled than Hood to the term. In fact, he was a literary merchant whose principal stock in trade was littleness for during the larger portion of his life he seemed to breathe only for the purpose of perpetrating puns things of such despicable platitude, that a man who is capable of habitually committing them, is very seldom capable of anything else. In especial, whatever merit may accidentally be discovered in a pun, arises altogether from unexpectedness. This is its element, and is twofold. First, we demand that the combination of the be unexpected, and secondly we demand the most entire unexpectedness in the pun per se. A rare pun, rarely appearing, is, to a certain extent, a pleasurable effect -but to no mind, however debased in taste, is a continuous effort at punning otherwise than unendurable. The man who maintains that he derives gratification from any such chapters of punnage as Hood was in the daily habit of putting to paper, has no claim to pun be believed upon his oath. What, for example, is any rational being to make of such jargon as this, which we copy from the very first page of the volume before us? COURTEOUS READER ! Presuming that you have known something of the Comic Annual from its Child-Hood, when it was first put into half binding and began to run alone, I make bold to consider you as an old friend of the family, and shall accordingly treat you with all the freedom and confidence that pertain to such ripe connexions. your How many years is it, think you, "since we were first acquent ? ' By the deep nine!" sings out the old bald Count Fathom with the lead line: no great lapse in the world's chronology, but a space of infinite importance in individual history. For instance, it has wrought a serious change on the body, if not on the mind, of very humble servant; it is not, however, to bespeak your sympathy, or to indulge in what Lord Byron calls "the gloomy vanity of drawing from self," that I allude to my personal experience. The Scot and lot character of the dispensation forbids me to think that the world in general can be particularly interested in the state of my Household Sufferage, or that the public ear will be as open to my Maladies as to my Melodies. Here is something better from page five — but still we look upon the whole thing as a nuisance : A rope is a bad Cordon Sanitaire. Let not anxiety have thee on the hyp. Consider your health as your best friend, and think as well of it, in spite of all its foibles, as you can. For instance, never dream, though have a "clever hack,” of galloping consumption, or indulge in the Meltonian belief that you are going the pace. Never fancy every time you cough, you may |