totally inaudible. The curtain was, therefore, again dropped; and the audience, shortly after, quietly dispersed.
So vanished from her sight that world over which, for the space of thirty-five years, she had reigned supreme, that world that made her joy and sorrow; before which, in spite of the many temptations that had beset her, she could feel with pride she had never degraded the supreme gift of genius. Amidst her poignant regrets, at least she had nothing tragic, nothing irremediable, to mourn, like so many of her sisters in the same profession. Differences of opinion had come between her and them, but all that was forgotten now in the anguish of "Farewell." She only remembered that first night of triumph, its terrors, and its delicious ecstasy; the weeks, months, and years of appreciated happy work, dreams fulfilled; parts she had studied and conned as a young girl, unconscious of the future in store for her, acted with overwhelming success. No Arabian Night's Dream of good fortune could have been more brilliant or more complete; but, as in all things human, the reaction had set in. She had touched such heights, that there must necessarily be a reflux.
She had loved her profession, not only for the measure of applause, but for the daily bustle and work, which, to a woman of her energetic temperament, was enjoyable in itself.
Rogers tells us that, sitting with her of an afternoon, years after the curtain had dropped on her farewell performance, she would vividly recall every moment of her stage life. "This is the time I used to be thinking of going to the theatre: first came the pleasure of dressing for my part; and then, the plea-
