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Grecian Daughter, a very indifferent play, but one into which she breathed life and beauty by the power of her intuition.

Not yet had the ninety-one of the past century dawned upon civilisation with its Goddess of Reason, its scanty classic draperies, and its sandalled, bare-*footed beauties. Toupees, toques, bouffantes, hoops, sacques, and all the paraphernalia of horse-hair, powder, pomatum, and pins were still in the ascendant. Not yet had Charlotte Corday sacrificed her life for the liberty of her people; but the muttering of the coming storm was heard in the distance, and, with the prescience of genius, the young actress anticipated its advent, and amazed her audience by the simple beauty of her classic draperies, and shook them with excitement by her rapturous appeals to Liberty.

There was a glorious enthusiasm about her delivery of certain portions. She came to perish or to conquer. She seemed to grow several inches taller. Her voice gained tones undreamt of before:—

Shall he not tremble when a daughter comes,
Wild with her griefs, and terrible with wrongs?
The Man of blood shall hear me! Yes, my voice
Shall mount aloft upon the whirlwind's wing.

Her scorn was magnificent. Her reply to Dionysius, when he asks her to induce her husband to withdraw his army—

Thinkest thou then
So meanly of my Phocion? Dost thou deem him
Poorly wound up to a mere fit of valour,
To melt away in a weak woman's tears?
Oh, thou dost little know him.

At the last line, Boaden tells us, there was a triumphant hurry and enjoyment in her scorn, which the