me we saw him was while talking with Arctic
Dr. Hayes, a few days before his departure for the Unknown Sea. Just
then Sanders went by arrayed in all the glory of a perfectly new _pareil
partout_ suit of spring clothes. Days passed by, and we heard of him as
frantically endeavoring to galvanize the C.S.A. at Montgomery, Alabama,
into faith in his exceeding Southern proclivities. It was up-hill work,
as we were told--almost as hard as several other small renegade literati
and politicians found it, when they, too, went over into Dixie about a
year ago. In vain did George N. Sanders utter the largest size secession
words--no office rewarded him, no foreign mission fell into the fat
fingers of the deserter. The change from the comfortable quarters of the
New-York Hotel to hurried war-marches and wild retreats must have been
indeed trying; only that so many politicians have of late fared quite as
badly, that pity would seem wasted. Meanwhile we would suggest, as a
good question for youthful democratic debating-societies: 'When we catch
the enemy, what shall be done with George N. Sanders?'

* * * * *

Notwithstanding our war--to say nothing of our want--we have had the
OPERA this winter; had it in great variety and perfection, and, as many
a reader can testify, with by no means thin houses. Grau has been
busy--the most courteous and indefatigable polyglot and active of
impresarios, with the good-natured Gosche, heralding a troupe of all the
stars, D'Angri, Hinckley, Kellogg, Brignoli, Susini, and all the rest,
including divers new singing birds. Maretzek has led, and we have had a
range from Mozart to Verdi, which was, on the whole, well-chosen. We
have had Brignoli singing, if possible, better, and acting, if possible,
worse than usual--a nightingale imprisoned in a pump; Mme. D'Angri, with
her _embonpoint_ voice, pouring forth like an inexhaustible fountain of
Maraschino; Miss Hinckley, pleasant and pretty as ever, steadily singing
her way star-ward; and Susini, who combines German strength with Italian
fire--a true _Tedesco Italiana-zato_. Something, too, we would say of
Mancusi, whose clear and rapid execution, in _Figaro_, and whose real
Spanish _majo_ rollicking style of acting were quite spirited enough,
even for that very spirited part. Formes was indeed under the impression
that he himself was the _Figaro Figarorum_, the incarnate half-Spanish
ideal of that wonderful barbaresque concept