e, made the answer peculiarly appropriate:
"No, sir, it is not Rosetta, it is Grand Cairo."

Life was running smoothly for Mrs. Billington; never had her popularity
reached so high a pitch; never had Fortune favored her with such lavish
returns for her professional abilities. One night she was horrified with
fear and disgust on returning home to see her brutal husband, Felican,
lolling on the sofa. He had been heart-broken at separation from his
beloved wife, and could endure it no longer. It was only left for her
to bribe him to depart with a large sum of money, which she fortunately
could afford. "I never," says Kelly, "saw a woman so much in awe of a
man as poor Mrs. Billington was of him whom she had married for love."
On the 3d of July, 1802, she sang with Mme. Mara at the farewell benefit
of that distinguished singer. Both rose to the utmost pitch of their
skill, and, in their attempts to surpass each other, the theatre rang
with thunders of applause. In our sketches of some of Mrs. Billington's
rivals and contemporaries, Mme. Mara demands precedence.

III.

Frederick the Great loved war and music with equal fervor, and possessed
talents for the one little inferior to his genius for the other. He
played with remarkable skill on the flute, of which instrument he
possessed a large collection, and composed original music with both
science and facility. This royal connoisseur carried his despotism into
his love of art, and ruled with an iron hand over those who catered
for the amusement of himself and the good people of Berlin. Though the
creator of that policy which, in the hands of Bismarck and the modern
German nationalists, has wrought such wonderful results, and which has
extended itself even to matters of aesthetic culture as a gospel of
patriotic bigotry, the great Fritz thoroughly despised everything German
except in matters of state, and was completely wedded to the literature
of France and the art of Italy. When the talents of a young German
vocalist, Mlle. Schmaeling, were recommended to him, it was enough for
him to hear the report, "She sings like a German," to make him sniff
with disdain. "A German singer!" he said; "I should as soon expect to
get pleasure from the neighing of my horse." Curiosity, however, at last
so far overcame prejudice as to make him send for Mlle. Schmaeling, who
was enthusiastically praised by many of those whose opinions the King
could not ignore, to come to Potsdam and sing