ny of the Odeon crossed the channel and
presented it with an added brilliancy. But what the piece has been
reduced to in its present form is a theme for the philosopher. Horribly
translated and badly played, it retains hardly a ray of its original
effectiveness. There can hardly have been a better example of the
possible infelicities of "adaptation." Nor have I the opportunity of
alluding to what is going on at the other London theatres, though to all
of them I have made a conscientious pilgrimage. But I conclude my very
desultory remarks without an oppressive sense of the injustice of
omission. In thinking over the plays I have listened to, my memory
arrests itself with more kindness, perhaps, than elsewhere, at the
great, gorgeous pantomime given at Drury Lane, which I went religiously
to see in Christmas week. They manage this matter of the pantomime very
well in England, and I have always thought Harlequin and Columbine the
prettiest invention in the world. (This is an "adaptation" of an Italian
original, but it is a case in which the process has been completely
successful.) But the best of the entertainment at Drury Lane was seeing
the lines of rosy child faces in the boxes, all turned toward the stage
in one round-eyed fascination. English children, however, and their
round-eyed rosiness, would demand a chapter apart.

H. JAMES, JR.

SOUNDING BRASS.

BEING A RIGHTE TRUTHFULL HISTORIE OF YE ANCIENT TIME.

"Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, and have not
charity"--which is love--"I am become as sounding brass or a tinkling
cymbal."

It was Sergeant Wright who repeated the words thoughtfully to himself,
nearly two hundred years ago, while his gaze was riveted upon the
glowing rim and cavernous hollow of a ponderous brazen object. It was
not a bell, though there was metal enough in it to have formed a very
respectable one for the village church.

At that early day bells were not common in New England; in the seaport
towns, that formed the colony of Plymouth, the faithful were summoned
to church by the blowing of a conch shell; at other towns there are
records of a "_peece_" being fired, or of a drummer being paid to beat
a reveille for sleepy souls. In Deerfield, where the events we are
about to chronicle took place, the practice seems to have been to
simply hoist a flag at the time appointed for public service. Any of
these means, except the drum, appears on some accounts preferable