cal genius over which my girlish imagi- Of Mr. Charles Kemble's good opinion Mr. Kemble's kindness to me never ceased as long as he lived. When he left the stage at the end of this his last engagement, he told my mother that he should always be proud and happy to give me the benefit of his experience, whenever I thought it would be of use to me. I need not say that, on many occasions, I gladly took advantage of his permission. He collected and had bound for me several plays in which his daughter had acted; in the first volume is a charming little note addressed to "my dear little friend." During the few months we acted together, his name for me was always baby." No doubt my ignorance of all the technical necessities of my art was very amusing to one who had spent so much of his life in it. I can never say in words how kind and good he was to me on all occasions. 66 school love, Juliet, whose tomb in Lee churchyard we had so often dressed up with horrors, and in whose character she had heard of my appearing at Richmond?" It was very hard to make her understand that there was no Romeo to be had youthful enough for her old playmate's Juliet. Something of this was told me at the end of the second act of the play by my dear friend and master, who came to my room joyously, and being now assured that all was well, did his best to animate my courage. He made me laugh by his description of the vehemence of my young school friend, and he was made the bearer. of a message from me to her. She was to go the next day and tell our dear governess and her sister, near whom she lived, all about the night. This was such, a lucky incident: it made me forget in part the dreaded audience, and filled my mind with fresh incentives to succeed, in order to give pleasure to the dear friends whose thoughts I knew were with me. I said, in the beginning of this letter, that Juliet was inwoven with my life. Some of the reasons I have mentioned, but there are other personal associations which for me are inseparably linked with the character. My beloved only sister was with me in my dressing-room while acting Juliet during the last hours we were together in life. During that sad evening we talked of the sportive afternoon rehearsal at Richmond in which she was my Romeo, and all that had come out of it. We parted in the morning; and oh, what a parting! she to sail that day with her husband to America, where in Boston, eighteen months afterwards, she died. By a strange coincidence, the first time I acted after the news reached me was as Juliet. The occasion was one of those unsatisfactory monster performances which had been arranged many weeks before, in order to help the funds required for the statue of Mrs. Siddons, now in Westminster Abbey. Mr. Macready was requested to act some scenes In connection with that first night at Covent Garden, I must tell you a little anecdote of my German school friend. On that night a young girl was sitting near some people whom we knew. Throughout the performance she made herself very conspicuous by clapping her hands, and breaking out into admiring but very disturbing exclamations. At last some one near ventured on a gentle remonstrance, and a remark that she could not be aware of the noise she was mak-in "Henry the Fourth," and I to give the ing. Upon this she said, "Oh, please, do not mind, really I cannot help it. She was my schoolfellow, and I am so happy!" It was explained to her between the acts that she was speaking to friends who knew me. Upon this she became very confidential, told them many incidents of our school days, and sent me more loves and messages than could be carried. But the ever-recurring refrain was, "Why had I been unfaithful to our fourth act in "Romeo and Juliet." What the other performances were, I do not remember. The blow had fallen upon me only some ten days before, and it made me naturally unfit for exertion of any kind. But the committee so importuned me, urging that to take my name from the programme would seriously affect the receipts, that at last I consented to make the effort, not caring much what became of me. How the whole misery of that time comes before me now! Mr. Macready, who knew my sister, and therefore knew what her loss was to me, sent, and came to my dressing-room door, several times during the evening, asking after and pressing to say a word to me. We had not met for some time. He was acting his farewell engagements in the provinces, and our paths were different. I felt that I could not bear his look of sympathy or words of kindness, and had to deny myself to him. Even the very sound of his voice heard at the door was all but too much for me. I had a duty before me, and I dared not break in upon the calm which I had forced upon myself. Over my Juliet's dress I threw a large flowing black veil, which I hugged to my heart as an outward proof of the mourning within it, and which, in some measure, comforted me. Besides, it also hid from me any kind faces which might have met mine at the side-scenes. The greetings of the audience did not move me. They did not know my grief, so I could bear them. I got on very well in the scene with the friar. There was despair in it, but nothing that in any way touched upon my own trial. My great struggle was in Juliet's chamber when left alone. Then her desolation, her loneliness, became mine, and the rushing tears would have way. Happily the fearful images presented to Juliet's mind of what is before her in the tomb soon sent softer feelings away; but how glad I was when the fancied sight of Tybalt's ghost allowed the cry that was in my heart to find vent in a shriek of grief, as well as horror! From Juliet's bed I was taken to my own, which kept me for many a long day. That is a night which I hardly dare to look back upon. Months and months followed, when the cry was ever in my heart for my loved one, whose loss was to me that of half my life. Can you wonder, then, what thoughts and memories Juliet stirs within me? It shocks me to think how egotistical I must appear in telling you all these personal details. But in writing of these things, I look back upon myself as upon some different person. And then you, dear friend, and many other friends, have urged me so strongly to tell you of my past in relation to the work I did, that you must share the blame with me. What I have to say of Shakespeare's Juliet must be reserved for another letter. Ever your loving and grateful HELENA FAUCIT MARTIN. To Mrs. S. C. HALL. From Chambers' Journal. A SHEEP-EATING PARROT. A SINGULAR bird has recently been added to the collection in the Zoological Gardens, London. This is none other than a carnivorous parrot, whose love of animal flesh manifests itself in a very decided predilection for mutton. There are two things which to the naturalist are remarkable in connection with this bird. First, it is, in respect of this flesh-eating propensity, an exception to the whole family of parrots, which are frugivorous, living on fruits, seeds, leaves, buds, and the like; and second, this carnivorous taste is not a natural but an acquired possession, the species of parrot in question having been till a few years since frugivorous, like others of its family. This curious bird is the kea (Nestor notabilis) or mountain parrot, and comes from New Zealand. The general color of its plumage is green; its length from point of bill to extremity of tail, is twenty-one inches; its bill is about two inches long, the upper mandible being curved, and very strong. It inhabits the higher wooded glens and recesses of the mountainous districts of New Zealand, and, like the owl, is generally nocturnal in its habits. The kea was first made known to science in 1856. In the time of Maori rule, the bird was as innocent and harmless in its habits, as respects its food, as any others of the parrot family; and it was not till the higher tracts of country were utilized by the early settlers as runs for sheep, that the kea was tempted to desert its fruit-eating habits, and to join the destructive army of the carnivora. About 1868, it was noticed at the sheepshearing season on the upland runs that many sheep were suffering from sores or scars, more or less recent, on the back, immediately in front of the hips. Curiously enough, it was observed that in all the animals so injured the wound was in precisely the same place in each-fairly above the kidneys. In some cases (says Mr. Potts, who has contributed an article to the Zoologist on the subject), the part affected had a hard, dry scab, or merely a patch of wool stripped off; others showed a severe wound; in some instances so deep that the entrails protruded. The animals so injured were invari ably those that were in the best condition; and many discussions ensued as to what could be the cause of this singular state of things. At last a shepherd gave it as his opinion that the injury was inflicted by a kind of parrot, rather a tame sort of "whilst being got out of snowdrifts, are There was no doubt about the keas being the offenders, and means were at once taken to have their numbers reduced. Since then, a mortal enmity has existed against them on the part of the shepherds; and justly so, as it is found that from three to five per cent. of every flock is so wounded or killed. In some individual instances, the ratio of destruction has been much higher. On one station on the Matatapu, out of a flock of twenty Lincoln rams, nineteen were within one month killed by these parrots. On another run, a flock of three hundred and ten strong, young wethers were, within a period of five months, so seriously injured by the keas, that at the end of that time only one hundred and five remained alive. In consequence of this destruction, men were engaged to kill the bird at a shilling a head; and these men, taking advantage of its nocturnal habits, now range the mountains at night, lighting fires to attract their game. In the daytime, they rest and prepare the skins for sale. But the kea, with the cleverness and cunning of its tribe, has grown very shy and wary, and knows very well, when it sees a man carrying a gun, what he is likely to do with it. Mr. Potts gives a striking account of the cruelty and rapacity of the keas in the prosecution of their horrible taste for sheep fat, the part especially liked by them being the fat that surrounds the kidneys. With this view, they do not hesitate to tear open the animal's flesh till they arrive at these organs, after tearing out the fat of which, they leave the poor animal to linger on or die in excruciating agony. Sheep," says Mr. Potts, two years' growth of wool, breaks off from the mob and leaves the track, desperately floundering into deeper snowwreaths, a flock of parrots, ever watchful. as they hover round, soon perceive their opportunity for mischief: they alight close to the spot where the sheep, unconscious of approaching danger, stands gazing fixedly in a state of helpless stupidity; gradually hopping or moving towards the victim with some show of caution, one of the keas at last settles on the back of the sheep, which, terrified at the strange visitor that thus besets it, bounds away; the bird now rises only to alight again on the same place, and clutching into the wool with its sharp claws, retains its hold more firmly and tenaciously. In vain the tortured animal in the direst agony seeks to rid itself of its cruel persecutor, that boldly keeps its vantage; after running and struggling some distance, its efforts to escape become feebler; it is at length so hard pressed that in a few minutes it yields passively to the tearing and searching beak of the kea." These repulsive, flesh-devouring propensities may have been acquired through the bird's being forced, in severe winters, to approach the stations in hopes of finding food, and there feeding on the flesh in the meat-gallows, and thus gradually forming a carnivorous appetite of such strength, that its former frugivorous tastes are entirely destroyed, and flesh now forms its sole food. The kea in the Zoological Gardens was struck down while it was in the act of attacking a sheep; but the man did not succeed in capturing it till it had torn his clothes in many places and severely lacerated his hands. Its food consists mainly of mutton, raw; it does not care for cooked meat, but will take it if very hungry. Occasionally it will take beef, and is fond of pork. But its vegetarian tastes seem almost completely eradicated, for it will not touch bread, though it likes the seed of sowthistle. It is altogether a remarkable and curious bird. was the Romans, too, who naturalized the chestnut, walnut, sycamore, box, and laurel. How many of our southern types of wild flowers may be escapes from their gardens it would be difficult to say; in some cases, certain flowers are still only found on the walls or in the neighborhood of their stations. Pall Mall Gazette. COLONIZATION OF PALESTINE BY THE consider --- never more as a LIVING ROMAN REMAINS. - A few years ago some earth was thrown up in the neigh borhood of a Roman ruin in Northumberland. Shortly after, several plants of a foreign species sprang up among the freshly turned soil. At first they were taken by my informant for the Alpine erinus, a flower allied to our own speedwells, and sometimes cultivated in English gardens, from which it occasionally escapes and establishes itself for a while on old walls in the neighborhood. But on further examination the intruder proved to be the Spanish erinus, a plant not before known to occur in England. Certainly it had never JEWS. - The only practicable and been noticed on this spot before the excava-ing the present condition of our co-religiontions. Now, it happens that the Romans hadists from a religious and social point of view quartered a garrison of Spanish cavalry at - the only possible way to facilitate the setthis very place for nearly two hundred years. tlement or occupation of the Holy Land by Is it possible, then, that the Spanish soldiers Jews, would be to aid or encourage the settlehad planted some of their native veronicas ment in suitable localities of small batches, around their station; that a few of the seeds say of five to ten families had got buried in the débris of the Roman rule- at intervals of two, three, and even five works (perhaps when the first English colony years apart. Not more, be it understood, than settled near the wall, under Octa or Oisc the fifty families being sent in any one year, and Jute); that they had retained their vitality for the emigrants being selected from a class of so many centuries unimpaired; and that they liberal and enlightened Jews, who would germinated at last when once more exposed to move with the times.' The material progair and moisture? It would be too much to ress of these would proceed pari passu with a say that they did; and yet the theory is not corresponding advance in the condition of wholly impossible. As a rule, seeds lose their Judaism itself, beyond the confines of Palesvitality in seven years or less, but in a few tine. And with such an advance, the question authentic cases they have been known to ger- of emigration on a larger scale would come minate after a whole century. Indeed, there within the sphere of practical consideration. is one case on record which would surpass Such a settlement of tiny colonies would have even that of the Spanish erinus. Mr. Kemp innumerable advantages. The cost would be once received some seeds which were found in comparatively trifling; the work could therethe bottom layer of a sandpit, twenty-five feet | fore be properly started, the emigrants well. below the surface; he sowed them carefully, provided with every requisite necessary for and they produced plants of dock, orache, and agriculture. Small tracts of land only being black bindweed. It appeared from the cir- necessary, better land and more conveniently cumstances of the case that they must have situated could be selected. It would be an been deposited at a time when the valley of easier task to secure suitable families — havthe Tweed was occupied by the bed of a lake, ing a rational view of the Mosaic ordinances, and as no lake existed there in Roman times that is where only a small number are wantthat must have been at least two thousand ed. The settlement of small batches would years since, or probably much more. So we not cause economic disturbances, such as may perhaps give the Northumberland erinus would result from a sudden inflow of thouthe benefit of the doubt. In any case, it is sands, where there are, practically, no marpretty certain that the Roman occupation has kets; where no export trade is organized, or left several marks upon the plant and animal likely to be organized in agricultural products. population of Britain. The edible snail, al- They would gradually make markets and cremost beyond doubt a remnant of the Italian ate trade. And it must not be forgotten that occupation, is found most abundantly near the good markets, foreign and inland, are absoold military stations, especially in those parts lutely necessary in order to secure the success of England where vineyards were planted. of an agricultural community. For the JewEven the country people still know it as the ish settler of to-day would never be content to Roman snail. It does not occur with our other make tools and implements as did his ancesnative snails in deposits of pre-Roman date. tors, nor would he be content to live as his According to Professor Boyd Dawkins, the progenitors were accustomed two thousand Romans also introduced the fallow deer; and years ago. Civilization has produced changes if this be so, its survival to our own day must in him, as in all others. His wants would be be regarded as equally a living memorial of greater than those of his progenitors. To the Romans in Britain. Our debt to the Ro- supply these requires not alone a superfluity mans in this matter is undoubtedly immense. of produce, but markets wherein to dispose of Almost every grape, cherry, peach, pear, plum, or barter such superfluity. Only settlements green fig, quince, or mulberry that we cat is on a small scale, and very gradually formed as directly descended from Roman ancestors. It we point out, would render all this possible. - Jewish World. VIII. WESTMINSTER ABBEY. By Matthew Arnold, Nineteenth Century, TERMS OF SUBSCRIPTION. For EIGHT DOLLARS, remitted directly to the Publishers, the LIVING AGE will be punctually forwarded for a year, free of postage. Kemittances should be made by bank draft or check, or by post-office money-order, if possible. If neither of these can be procured, the money should be sent in a registered letter. All postmasters are obliged to register letters when requested to do so. Drafts, checks and money-orders should be made payable to the order of LITTELL & Co. Single Numbers of THE LIVING AGE, 18 cents. |