ite of the panic. The hair
is worn plain and off the brow, let us thank the genius of Fashion,
so that every woman has a purer, better look. Nothing destroys the
expression of a good woman like breaking over that line which Nature
has made about the forehead. Our women have made themselves into
wicked Faustinas and vulgar Anonymas long enough with their frizzes
and short curls and "banging," as the square-cut straight lock on the
forehead is called. Let us see the Madonna brow once more. The high
ruff, the sleeve to the elbow, the dress cut to show the figure, all
bring-back the days of our great-grandmothers: the opera is filled
with Copley's portraits. The bonnets, too, are delightfully large,
with long feathers. Every new fashion brings out a new crop of
beauties, but I could not see what beauties were brought out by those
bold bonnets of last year, which were hung on at the back of the head.

We expect great fun from Dundreary rehearsing _Hamlet_ for private
theatricals. Mr. Sothern has been asked to write down Dundreary, that
so great an eccentric conception may not be lost to the world. He
answers that he has twelve volumes of Dundreary literature! That shows
how much industry goes to even an "inconsiderate trifle." This fine
actor and most accomplished and agreeable man has been playing in two
of the poorest plays ever presented to a New York audience. Nothing
but a capital "make up," resembling one of the most fashionable men in
town, who is Sothern's particular friend, has given them point--even
_then_ only to New Yorkers. Sothern's fondness for practical joking
has brought about so many false charges that he is getting very tired
of being fathered with every stupid trick which any one chooses to
play, and will probably drop that form of wit, so really unworthy of
his great genius and true refinement, for the man who could invent
Dundreary and who can play Garrick is a genius.

I assisted with four thousand others at the first representation
of the _Magic Flute_ at the Grand Opera House, where the late James
Fisk's monogram is decently covered up by Gothic shields, hastily
improvised after _that_ distinguished actor met the reward of
his crimes. I heard lima di Murska for the first time. She is an
unpleasant miracle, compelling your reluctant astonishment. Such vocal
gymnastics I never heard. The flute and the musical-box are left in
the background, but her voice is nasal and disagreeable at first.
Lucca's sp