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The bright periods in the history of acting arrive when-ever it happens that some one man has arisen, who, to genius and character, add devotion and inflexible will. Such a man dignifies and adorns the stage, and invests it with an allurement which the public cannot resist; and then, suddenly, there ensues a great theatrical prosperity. This was so when Garrick appeared——of whom the explanation is suggested in these significant words, in George Anne Bellamy's "Apology": "As Mr. Garrick was come to London" (so wrote that sprightly actress), "I was obliged to at-tend to the duties of my profession. The most intense application was necessary for those who fought under his banners. As he was unremitting himself in his attention to business, he expected those he employed to be the "same." Here, plainly, enough, we have the man of genius, character, and will, whose method is hard work. The result was inevitable. The Garrick period in stage history, though not all golden had its golden side; and Charles Kean, Macready and Irving, since then, have only repeated the experience of Garrick.

Lord Byron, writing in 1817, said that his personal as-sociation and acquaintance with Drury Lane Theatre (of which he was once a manager, in association with Whitbread and others), had given him the greatest contempt for the stage. Allowance has always to be made (by the student who would know Byron's real opinions), for that woman-like habit of strong statement in which he generally indulged, and which made him, on one occasion, say that he considered Shakespeare to be "a damned humbug." Yet, aside from exaggeration, this testimony of a great mind, as to state of the theatre at an important epoch, is useful and significant. That period, we may be sure, had very little that was "golden" about it. Edmund Kean, the most
comet-like and iridescent dramatic genius
that ever England has produced, was, indeed, acting at
that time. But Edmund Kean had neither moral stability, inflexible devotion, or steadfast will. Genius, as old Bernard noticed, is apt to hold up more glasses than one - and Edmund Kean was a type of all that, in genius, is wayward and deplorable. The Kembles might have done much more than they actually did, but neither of them seem to have been laminated with more than a personal ambition. The phlegmatic temperament of John Philip Kemble, and the repellant selfishness of his great sister, Mrs. Siddons, were notorious. After the ebb of the Garrick days, in fact, the tide did not come to flood till the days of Macready and Charles Kean; and after their time the British drama languished till it was revived by Henry Irving. Each of these actors has made a golden era in stage history——and for a like reason. Mr. Irving himself has said that "the fortunate actor is the actor who works";——and work is his principle, exactly as it was the principle of Garrick. But we venture to add that work will not accomplish all. There is a crowning and irradiating attribute, and that is, char,. Much depends upon who it is that works. When genius works, having the implements of character, devotion, and will, to work with, the result much always be victory.

"The reason of things," said that wise old divine, Dr. South, "lies in a little compass, if the mind could at any time be so happy as to light upon it." The reason of Mr. Irving's great success, and of its permanence, lies in these three words——character, work, and charm. Some things in this sifting world are not matters of opinion. The renown of a great actor whose conduct of life has proceeded on the lines of high motive and firm principle, becomes woven into the texture of his countrymen's experience. His personality and his influence are a part of the common life of his time. Mr. Irving, from the first step of his career——which, of late, is as well known here as in England——has kept his resolution fixed upon the attainment of a great object. He has believed in his profession and in himself. He has aimed at the highest and has never faltered. He has comprehended the intellectual spirit f the age——its thirst for sensuous beauty, for luxury, for critical perfection of form, and, above all, its passionate admiration for valiant and absolute achievement, and therefore, he has been thorough, and has made even success his servant. He has pressed all the other arts and all the mechanical sciences into the service of the art of acting. He has played for a high prize and he has never been afraid to venture a high stake. He has had the audacity of farsighted courage - the steadfast, self-centered strength of cool, intrepid, patient, predominant intellect. And, which is extraordinary, amazing, and almost without a parallel, he has persevered throughout the development of the inflexible character something of the gentleness of a child, and the dreaminess of a poet. When such a man as this has gained a large share in the guidance of the stage, the world may well feel that the theatre is an instrument of vast and varied and beneficent power. The harp-strings slumber till touched by the magician's hand. Henry Irving is a magician to-day. On both sides of the ocean our English race hears him with honor, and the melody of his earnest and splendid artistic life will sound on in our hearts long after its music has ended in the silence that waits for all.

At the close of the performance last night, Mr. Irving,——who had already been six times recalled,——was again summoned before the curtain, and he replied then to the public greeting as follows:

"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN: I believe it is a custom with you to allow an actor to thank you for the pleasure you have given him; and I will avail myself of that custom now, to say that I thank you with all my heart and soul. It seems to me that the greatness of your welcome rifles the greatness of your nation. I thank you and 'beggar that I am, I am even poor in thanks.' Let me say that my comrades are also deeply sensible of your kindness, and let me add that I hope you will give a warmer welcome, if such were possible, than I have received, to my associate and friend Miss Ellen Terry, who will have the honor of appearing before you to-morrow night. And finally if it is not a liberty, will you allow me to hope that your loves may increase even as our days do grow."

THE AUDIENCE AND THE ACTOR
WHO WERE IN THE BOXES--WHAT WAS SAID BETWEEN THE ACTS--MR IRVING'S SPEECH.

Broadway from Thirteenth-st. to Union Square was a mass of carriages and umbrellas glittering with rain last night as early as half-past seven. From that time till a few minutes past eight the carriages moved with what speed they could to the door of the Star Theatre, where they set down their occupants while the umbrellas swayed hither and thither as those sheltered under them pressed forward, either to watch those entering the theatre or to gain admission themselves. Inside the lobby the scene was a notable one. Half New-York seemed to be there--that is, half of that portion of New-York people whose names are known to the public; the ladies slipping off their wraps, the men chatting together in groups. The auditorium itself looked as if it were impossible to seat another person in it long before the curtain rose; but to the theatrical manager all things are possible--even the crowding of two people into the space ordinarily available for one alone. So one by one the late-comers filed in and in some mysterious manner found a place. When a flash of golden hair glimmered out of the lower box on the left hand side of the stage a murmur went through the large audience, who by some intuition seemed to know that Miss Ellen Terry had entered the theatre, on the stage of which she will to-night make her first appearance in America. With her was an elderly gentleman with gray hair who to some was known to be Felix Moscheles, Mendelssohn's god-son, with his wife and a young man of boyish appearance known to many as the son of Lord Coleridge. In the other boxes were W.H. Vanderbilt, Chauncey M. Depew, Judge Brady, Augustus Schell, Algernon S. Sullivan, John H. Starin and Mrs. Starin, Howard Carroll and Mrs. Carroll, Madame Nilsson, Dr. Doremus and Mrs. Doremus, Mrs. Lester Wallack, Mrs. Arthur Wallack, Mr. Lawrence Barrett and the Misses Barrett, Mrs. Charles Leland, Henry Rosener and Mrs. Rosener and Mr. and Mrs. Theodore Moss. Among other well known faces in the audience were noticed those of ex-Judge Horace Russell, General Horace Porter, Colonel and Mrs. Tobias, of Philadelphia; General Winslow, Dr. Fordyce Barker, George J. Gould, John Gilbert, Rafael Joseffy, Fr. Robert Laird Collier of Chicago; Oscar Meyer and Mrs. Meyer, Mrs. John T. Raymond, Harry Edwards, Daniel Bixby, Charles Dudley Warner, John H. Bird, Mrs. John Nesbitt, Miss Jeffrey Lewis, Joseph Hatton, Lawrence Hutton and Dr. Macdonald.

The buzz of conversation before the rising of the curtain reminded the hearer more of an opera night than of the first night of a play, and the resemblance was increased by the flutter of the "librettos" which had been printed by an enterprising firm and were sold by the usual small boy at the door. When the curtain rose, however, the conversation stopped, and a hushed silence, broken only momentarily by the warm reception accorded to Mrs. Terriss was preserved until the great burst of applause which greeted the entry on the stage of England's great actor. For fully two minutes the wave of welcoming applause swept over the house. Mr. Irving acknowledged it by the merest inclination of the head, and then dashed into his lines and the play went on.

In the lobbies between the acts there was a curious lack of enthusiasm among the regular theatre-goers, who were discussing the performance between the pups of their cigarettes as is their wont; but this may have been due to the fact that the heat inside was insupportable owing to the sudden change in the weather. At the end of the second act, however, in which Mr. Irving has more to carry on his own shoulders, the discussions assumed a more animated nature, and the whisper of the magic names of Forrest and Booth was heard. Finally, after the strained attention bestowed on the last great act a loud and continued call was made for Mr. Irving who appeared, bowed, and retired. The shouting and clapping were kept until he came forward a second time and, standing in the centre of the stage before the curtain, made a short speech in a voice broken with emotion.

But a moment had passed when Sara called to me to come there, I hastened -in great alarm and found my Mother whom Sara was supporting in her wheeled chair vomiting apparently Immediately I saw it was blood which came in copious quantities. I had her in my arms and we tried to disengage it from her mouth. She turned her eyes up to me and gently passed away. Downing had run down for Dr. Chalker but before he reached him, and he came at once, she had ceased to live. She had coughed and had ruptured a blood vessel in her lungs. What a blow, and what a change in our home in a few brief minutes. Dear Mother she lies in her room, which will henceforth be so empty without her dear presence, looking so peaceful and so at rest that I try to be thankful and not to think of the sad memories that will come now every day henceforth. Devoted, unselfish, useful life, how strange will this home seem now with out the dear presence, which even in her