153

its construction! By none; like the plains on which it plays, the characters it portrays, it has no likeness to anything else, it is unique, sui generis, and "naught but itself can be its parallel." The wonderful melodramas of old times are eclipsed by it- where they had one death, this has twenty; where they used their popping iron in the cause of crime, this fires a whole volley in the interests of virtue. Take Tam burlaine the Tartar, Tom Thumb the Great, Rignum Funnidos, Chrononontonthologus, Bombaster Furioso, Titus Adronicus, Maworm in the Hypocrite, and Nat. Lee's mad tragedy in sixteen acts and some odd scenes, and still this wonderful melange whips them all. It is among plays what Buffalo Bill is among warriors, and that is saying enough. Death, war dances, fires and defiance, war-whoops and death songs lie round promiscuous; and the entire company must have been killed three times over. We tallied till the slain got up to thirty-seven, and then gave it up, dead beat. Every one engaged in the piece did his and her duty. Buffalo Bill is handsome as an Adonis, and plays as he fights, with all the finished nonchalance of a western gentlemen scout. Texas Jack is only second to him. Morlacchi is charming. Mordant, an old favorite of ours in Philadelphia, is a "villain double-dyed," of great power. Walter Fletcher is a low comedian of great merit. Alfred Johnson, as Longlank, has the true nasal twang, and plays his part to perfection, and finally, outrageous as the whole thing is, we would not have missed it for a ten dollar bill, and recommend all of our friends to be on hand to-night. Ladies need not fear to go; the proprieties are never outraged, and many a fashionable play has more immorality in a line than could be educed from the whole performance.

its construction! By none; like the plains on which it plays, the characters it portrays, it has no likeness to anything else, it is unique, sui generis, and "naught but itself can be its parallel." The wonderful melodramas of old times are eclipsed by it- where they had one death, this has twenty; where they used their popping iron in the cause of crime, this fires a whole volley in the interests of virtue. Take Tam burlaine the Tartar, Tom Thumb the Great, Rignum Funnidos, Chrononontonthologus, Bombaster Furioso, Titus Adronicus, Maworm in the Hypocrite, and Nat. Lee's mad tragedy in sixteen acts and some odd scenes, and still this wonderful melange whips them all. It is among plays what Buffalo Bill is among warriors, and that is saying enough. Death, war dances, fires and defiance, war-whoops and death songs lie round promiscuous; and the entire company must have been killed three times over. We tallied till the slain got up to thirty-seven, and then gave it up, dead beat. Every one engaged in the piece did his and her duty. Buffalo Bill is handsome as an Adonis, and plays as he fights, with all the finished nonchalance of a western gentlemen scout. Texas Jack is only second to him. Morlacchi is charming. Mordant, an old favorite of ours in Philadelphia, is a "villain double-dyed," of great power. Walter Fletcher is a low comedian of great merit. Alfred Johnson, as Longlank, has the true nasal twang, and plays his part to perfection, and finally, outrageous as the whole thing is, we would not have missed it for a ten dollar bill, and recommend all of our friends to be on hand to-night. Ladies need not fear to go; the proprieties are never outraged, and many a fashionable play has more immorality in a line than could be educed from the whole performance.