followed she was cold enough to be broken to pieces for a refrigerator.
But who could have warmed up to such a Romeo? That unpleasant youth pained
us with his quite unnecessary gyrations and spasmodic noise. We soon
discovered that Miss Anderson had been coached for Juliet without
possessing on her part the most distant conception of the character--or
capacity to render it, had she the information. She was not doing Juliet
from end to end. She was as far from Juliet as the North Pole is from the
Equator. She was doing something else. We could not make out clearly what
that character was; but it was something quite different and a good way
off. Sometimes we thought it was Lady Macbeth, sometimes Meg Merrilies,
sometimes Lucretia Borgia, but never for a moment Juliet. We speak thus
plainly of Miss Anderson because her injudicious and enthusiastic friends
are injuring, if they are not ruining her. Her fine physique, her dash,
her beautiful face, her clear ringing voice, have carried crowds off their
heads--well, they are off at both ends; for on last Thursday night the
amount of applauding was based on shoe leather. The lovely Anderson was
called out at the end of each act. As to that, the active Romeo had his
call. We never saw before precisely such a house. The north-west was out
in full force. Kentucky came to the front like a little man. General
Sherman, sitting at our elbow, wore out his gloves, blistered his hands,
and then borrowed a cotton umbrella from his neighbor. Miss Anderson, with
all her natural advantages, added to her love of the art, her indomitable
will as shown in her square prominent jaw, has a career before her, but it
is not down the path indicated by these enthusiastic friends. 'The steeps
where Fame's proud temple shines afar' are difficult of access, and genius
waters them with more tears than sturdy, steady, persevering talent.

"Charlotte Cushman told us once that the heaviest article she had to carry
up was her heart. The divine actress who now leads the English-spoken
stage began her professional career as a ballet dancer, and has grown her
laurels from her tears. We suspected Miss Anderson's success. It was too
triumphant, too easy. After years of weary labor, of heart-breaking
disappointments, of dreary obscurity, genius sometimes blazes out for a
brief period to dazzle humanity; and quite as often never blazes, but
disappears without a triumph.

"To such life is not a battle, but a campaign