rary, and in all the papers of like political bias,
appeared the following and similar paragraphs:

"THE SPEECH OF M. DANTES, last evening, in the Chamber of Deputies,
was one of the most dangerous diatribes to which we ever
listened--dangerous for the insidious and sophistical principles it
advanced, and the almost fiend-like eloquence with which they were
urged. Where are these things to stop? At what terrible catastrophe
do these men aim? What crisis do they contemplate?"

"THE NEW DRAMA at the Theatre Francais, called 'The Laborer of
Lyons,' which is to-night to be repeated, is calculated and seems
to have been designed by its reckless author to produce the very
worst effects among the laboring classes. We deeply regret that it
has been suffered by the censors to be brought out."

The multitude called forth by paragraphs like these to witness the new
play was, of course, immense. Long before the time for the curtain to
rise, the vast edifice was crowded to its utmost capacity with an eager
and enthusiastic assemblage. Not only were the galleries, parquette and
lobbies filled with blouses, but the boxes were glittering with a
perfect galaxy of fashion, loveliness and rank. Conspicuous in the
orchestra stalls were the three friends--the Secretary, the journalist
and the Deputy. In a small and private loge in the second tier,
concealed from all eyes by its light curtain of green silk, and its
position, but himself viewing everything upon the stage or in the house,
sat the author of the play, calmly awaiting the rising of the curtain.

The performance at length began, and the piece proceeded to its
termination amid thunders of applause, which, as the curtain finally
descended on the last scene of the last act, became perfectly deafening,
accompanied by cries for the author. But no author appeared behind the
footlights or in the proscenium box; and, at last, the uproar becoming
redoubled, the manager came forward, and, in the author's behalf,
tendered grateful acknowledgments for the unprecedented favor, even by a
Parisian audience, with which the production had been received, but, at
the same time, entreated the additional favor that they would grant the
author's request, and permit his name, for the present, to remain
unknown. He would, however, venture to reveal this much, that the author
was a distinguished friend of the people. The earthquake of applause