ds an important place. I had been denied this pleasure in my
girlhood, and my enjoyment of it at this time was fresh and intense.
Among the attentions lavished upon us during that London season were
frequent offers of a box at Covent Garden or "Her Majesty's." These were
never declined. Of especial interest to me was a performance of Macready
as Claude Melnotte in Bulwer's "Lady of Lyons." The part of Pauline was
played by Helen Faucit. Both of these artists were then at their best.
Thomas Appleton, of Boston, and William Wadsworth, of Geneseo, were with
us in our box. The pathetic moments of the play moved me to tears, which
I tried to hide. I soon saw that all my companions were affected in the
same way, and were making the same effort. I saw Miss Faucit again at an
entertainment given in aid of the fund for a monument to Mrs. Siddons.
She recited an ode written for the occasion, of which I still recall the
closing line:--

"And measure what we owe by what she gave."

I saw Grisi in the great role of Semiramide, and with her Brambilla, a
famous contralto, and Fornasari, a basso whom I had longed to hear in
the operas given in New York. I also saw Mlle. Persiani in "Linda di
Chamounix" and "Lucia di Lammermoor." All of these occasions gave me
unmitigated delight, but the crowning ecstasy of all I found in the
ballet. Fanny Elssler and Cerito were both upon the stage. The former
had lost a little of her prestige, but Cerito, an Italian, was then in
her first bloom and wonderfully graceful. Of her performance my sister
said to me, "It seems to make us better to see anything so beautiful."
This remark recalls the oft-quoted dialogue between Margaret Fuller and
Emerson apropos of Fanny Elssler's dancing:--

"Margaret, this is poetry."

"Waldo, this is religion."

I remember, years after this time, a talk with Theodore Parker, in which
I suggested that the best stage dancing gives us the classic in a fluent
form, with the illumination of life and personality. I cannot recall, in
the dances which I saw during that season, anything which appeared to me
sensual or even sensuous. It was rather the very ecstasy and embodiment
of grace.

A ball at Almack's certainly deserves mention in these pages, the place
itself belonging to the history of the London world of fashion. The one
of which I now speak was given in aid of the Polish refugees who were
then in London. The price of admission to this sacred precinct would
have