ing. In the scene where the nurse brings her the
bad news of Tybalt's death and Romeo's banishment, she acted charmingly.
In gesture, attitude, and facial expression she gave evidence of emotion
so true and strong, as showed she was capable of losing her own identity
in the _role_."

As an amusing specimen of vindictive criticism, we subjoin a notice in the
_Washington Capitol_, under date May 28, 1876. This lengthy notice
contains strong internal evidence of a deadly feud existing between
Manager Ford and the editor of the _Capitol_, and the stab is given
through the fair bosom of Mary Anderson, whose immense success in
Senatorial Washington, this atrabilious knight of the plume devotes two
columns of his valuable space to explaining away.

Washington City _Daily Capitol_, 28th May, 1876.

"Miss Anderson comes to us on a perfect whirlwind of newspaper puffs. We
use the words advisedly, for in none of them can be found a paragraph of
criticism. If Siddons or Cushman had been materialized and restored to the
stage in all their pristine excellence, the excitement in Cincinnati,
Louisville, St. Louis and New Orleans, could not have been more intense.
The very firemen of one of those cities seem to have been aroused and lost
their hearts, if not their heads; and not only serenaded the object of
their adoration, but got up a decoration for her to wear of the most
costly and gorgeous sort. Under this state of facts we waited with unusual
impatience for sixteen sticks to give the cue that was to fetch on the
Juliet. It came at last, and Juliet stalked in. Had Lady Macbeth responded
to the summons we could not have been more amazed. Miss Anderson is heroic
in size and manner. The lovely heiress to the house of the Capulets, on
the turn of sixteen, swept in upon the stage as if she were mistress of
the house, situation, and of fate, and bent on bringing the enemy to
terms. Her face is sweet, at times positively beautiful, but incapable of
expression. Her voice, while clear, is hard, metallic, at intervals nasal,
and all the while stagey. She has been trained in the old Kemble tragic
pump-handle style of elocution, that runs talk on stilts. Her manner is
crude and awkward. In the balcony scene she only needed a pair of gold
rimmed glasses to have made her an excellent schoolmistress, chiding a
naughty young man for intruding upon the sacred premises of Madame
Fevialli's select academy for young ladies. In the love scenes that