Katherine, stormily, her eyes beginning to burn and her face to grow dark. "I will not quit it till we understand cach other perfectly. You have drawn from me a confidence."

"Pardon!” said May. "You volunteered it."

"I repeat that you drew it from me," said Katherine, "with your sentimental looks and your sympathetic speeches about lovers. Now I may as well go further. And I warn you not to meddle between me and Paul Finiston !"

"I?" exclaimed May, springing to her feet and standing a little off from Katherine, straight and quivering as a very shaft of fire.

Yes, you," said Katherine. "You have thought of him as a lover. I saw it in your face when I first mentioned his name."

"It is false," said May, in a low thrilling voice. "How dare you accuse me? You, who know nothing of me!"

But Katherine was not softened by the sight of May's honest indignation as she stood panting before her, her eyes like dark flames, her cheeks redder than the reddest roses round about.

"Your enthusiastic modesty is very pretty," sneered Katherine. "But I am not deceived by it. I see that you'

But here May suddenly put her fingers in her ears with a childish impulse of passionate impatience. Katherine stood speechless at finding herself treated with such utter disrespect. And before she could find words to express her sense of the indignity, May had turned away and fled through the window into her room.

"But I will not be treated so!" cried Katherine at the window. "Come out, Miss Mourne, for I have not done speaking to you. Or else I shall go in

But in the twinkling of an eye the window was locked inside, the shutters closed and barred. And May, having thus ended the battle, sat down upon the floor in the dark, and had a hearty cry.

ANDREW DUCROW.

In the later half of the last century there was born at Bruges a certain Peter Von Ducrow, who, arrived at manhood, earned for himself the title of the Flemish Hercules. He was by profession and by natural endowment a "strong man: gaining his living by public exhibition of his physical gifts. His performances certainly seem

to have been of a prodigious character. He could hold between his teeth, and in such wise lift from the ground, a table upon which had been stationed four or five of his children. Lying upon his back, he could with his hands and feet support a platform upon which stood no less than eighteen grenadiers fully armed and in marching order. From the first Hercules downwards, a peculiar mythical halo has, no doubt, always attended and enhanced the proceedings of the strong. But these exploits, and such as these, are stated to have been duly accomplished by Peter in the ring of Astley's Amphitheatre during the early seasons of that establish

ment.

For the "strong man" had journeyed to London. Within a week of his arrival, in the year 1793, there was born to him a son, who was christened Andrew. It was afterwards deemed appropriate enough that little Andrew Ducrow should have first drawn breath at the Nag's Head Inn, Southwark.

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The child was educated perhaps much as strong men's" children usually are. Great regard was paid to his muscles; his mind was left to take care of itself. It is the acrobat's creed that reading and writing come by nature; but that the feats of the circle can only result from severe training, At three years old Andrew was set to learn his father's trade. From standing firmly with his feet in a straight line, heel to heel. he proceeded to vaulting, tumbling, dancing on the slack and tight rope-with, by way of relief and recreation, balancing, riding, fencing, and boxing. At the age of seven he, was sufficiently accomplished to take part in a fête given at Frogmore, in the presence of George the Third. In the course of the performance, much to the alarm of the spectators, the stage gave way, and the little fellow fell through. The king, much concerned at the accident, was charmed by the fortitude with which the young performer bore his bruises, and the simplicity with which he denied that he had been at all hurt.

'What any man has done or can do, I'll do," old Ducrow was wont to say, "but my boy shall do what no one else can or dare do." He referred, of course, to the feats of his profession. He was the severest of disciplinarians, and regarded failure as a matter quite within the control of the performer. He was himself without fear, and he declined to recognise the existence of such a feeling. "In ninety-nine cases out

of a hundred," he would say, "I can't' simply means 'I won't.'" Diligent application of the horsewhip he had invariably found to be a most complete cure for timidity. Young Ducrow went through his performances with an understanding that any mistake that he might make, or any accident that might happen, would be promptly followed by bodily chastisement of a most merciless kind. At Edinburgh, when a mere child, he fell from his rope and dislocated his wrist; he continued to dance, however, carrying his balancingpole in one hand. He fell again and sprained his ankle; but he went through the remainder of his performances on one leg. From the strictness of his early training he acquired the coolness and courage which so distinguished his after-career; and certainly his preceptor set him a good example in the way of hardihood. A critic wrote of Peter Ducrow's daring: "He would have danced on a rope stretched across the crater of Vesuvius during an eruption, or have ridden round the ridge of Ararat in a whirlwind !"

In 1808, young Ducrow was chief equestrian and rope-dancer at Astley's, enjoying a salary of ten pounds per week. Five years later, the Ducrows seceded to the rival establishment, the Royal Circus, in St. George's Fields. Here a stage had been erected, and dramatic entertainments were presented. It was in the part of Florio the dumb boy, in the Dog of Montargis, that Andrew first won applause as a pantomimist. Misfortunes, however, came thickly upon the Royal Circus, bankruptcy afflicted the proprietors, the license was forfeited, and the doors of the theatre were closed. Andrew returned to Astley's for a season, and introduced that serious acting upon horseback for which he afterwards became so famous. Already his classical scene of the Gladiator was an admired performance. His bold riding, personal graces, and mastery of the language of gestures, were attracting great attention.

About this time Peter Ducrow died, leaving his widow and family to the charge of Andrew. Astley's was then under the management of one Davis, whose son was a leading performer in the ring. Andrew finding the rivalry of the manager's son somewhat inconvenient, resolved upon a continental tour. Accompanied by his brothers and sisters, and taking with him his famous trick-horse Jack, he joined Blondell's Cirque Olympique, and made his first appearance in Ghent. Subsequently he visited

His success

the chief towns of France. was something unprecedented. A tempting offer to share the receipts of the night, after an allowance of three hundred francs for expenses, brought him to Franconi's circus, at Paris. The surpassing merits of the English horseman were speedily recog nised, and he secured unbounded popularity. His style was pronounced original, his daring unequalled. He was the first to introduce into the ring an equestrian pageant or entrée, and his performances upon six "bare-backed steeds"-as in his famous scene, the Courier of St. Petersburg-had not previously been attempted.

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Animated, light, and graceful," wrote enthusiastically a Parisian critic, "the English horseman seduces and enchants us by his elegant agility. He absolutely sports with the rules of statics, and gravity has no central point for him. Sometimes like an aërial being you would suppose him ready to take an easy flight. Sometimes stooping over the arena he remains suspended in space, a prodigy of equilibrium. His rapid courser is the pedestal on which he erects every form and assumes every attitude: the Mercury of Phidias, ready to take wing; the Gladiator of admirable proportions; the lover of Flora with Cupid in his arms or disporting in a garland of flowers."

Another critic took up the theme: "To these prodigies of agility and address is united a grace which constitutes their highest merit in the eyes of all who entertain a proper sense of the genuine principles of art, and who know that in feats of dexterity, and even of strength, the chief merit does not lie in the surmounting of difficulty. But what exalts the exercises of M. Ducrow to the honourable rank of the imitative art, are the scenes, I might almost say the dramas, which he performs in mute language. The truth, the animation, all, in short, which comprehends the beauty of pantomime, are rendered still more astonishing by being exhibited, as it were, in the air, and in the midst of that rapid motion which hurries along both the courser and his guide. Here, indeed, the difficulty overcome renders the perfection of talent still more admirable. And M. Ducrow has unfolded a new talent. Having shown himself the most skilful equestrian we have ever seen, a charming dancer and excellent mimic, he has now appeared as a worthy rival of Madame Sacqui, Revel, Forioso, Cabanel, and all the boldest funambulists we ever beheld."

At this time, it may be observed, the

private house adjoining the theatre, and would often come upon the stage in his dressing-gown and slippers to supervise the preparations for the performance of the evening. On one occasion a rope-dancer, who was announced to ascend from the stage to the upper gallery, declined to perform the feat, alleging that the rope was insecure. "You're afraid of hurting yourself, I suppose," said Ducrow. "Well, I'm not pretty, and I've nothing to fear. Give me the pole." And, "accoutred as he was," he ascended and descended the rope in safety. After this exploit of his manager in slippers the performer could no longer hesitate. But even the practised artists of the theatre are said to have shuddered at the perilous performance of Ducrow. At another time, one of the actors, who was required to drop from a set piece in a scene representing a precipice, hesitated, stating that the fall would endanger his life. Ducrow took his place and quietly jumped from the elevation-the difference between jumping and dropping being about six feet.

The cockney method of speech which Ducrow invariably adopted may have been something of an affectation. Mr. Bunn especially mentions the equestrian's general intelligence and keen sense of humour, and certainly his addresses to the public were admirable efforts of their kind. These he is understood to have contrived without assistance from other hands. When Braham, the singer, entered upon his unfortunate speculation at the Colosseum, and at considerable expense engaged the Bedouin Arabs to appear, Ducrow announced that a similar entertainment would be presented at Astley's Theatre by a much larger number of artists. Application was made to the magistrates at Bow-street to restrain the proceedings of Ducrow. Upon this, the following handbill proceeded from Astley's Theatre:

"EXTRAORDINARY EQUESTRIAN AND GYMNASTIC ARAB FEATS! Surpasses anything of the kind ever produced! The public are respectfully informed that these are not the FOUR BLACK MEN who play without their shoes and stockings at the West-end of the town, but upwards of forty British artists that challenge all Europe, for talent, variety, extraordinary feats of manly skill and activity, and who nightly receive thunders of applause from crowded audiences, and do not play to a dozen of daily loungers. The union of talent and Arab spectacles of this establishment does not confine itself to the tumbling of FOUR GREAT

UGLY BLACKS, who have been refused an engagement at Astley's because there are so many superior and extraordinary men of our own country nearly starving, and compelled to perform on an open racecourse for a penny, whilst those four men can get one hundred pounds per week because they are black and foreigners!

"The reader, no doubt, has witnessed boys running alongside of a coach, doing what is termed cat-in-wheels, and turning foresprings with one hand and then the other, or throwing summersaults from a sandbank. Such is the grand performances of these sauteurs, consisting of three or four blacks who walk on their hands with their NAKED FEET IN THE AIR LIKE TWO BLACK FRYING-PANS. Of course no lady or respectable person can sit and see this!

"These blacks, with the men who take half their money, applied at Bow-street to ask if they could not prevent Astley's from using the word 'Arab exercises,' for that the public went every night and filled Astley's and never came to see them at all! Why, of course, the public are the best judges, and knows the difference between seeing a spectacle in character, produced with splendour, to introduce the talents of the flying man, the equilibrists, elastic tumblers, the antipodeans, jugglers, dancers, men and horses, tableaux, the groups of trained horses, and other novelties! But come see and judge for yourselves, for this is only a small part of Astley's entertainments."

It is needless to say that the public found this invitation quite irresistible, and that Astley's was nightly crowded with admirers of Ducrow's Bedouins of British growth.

Mr. Bunn, narrating the misfortunes of a manager, enlarges upon the miseries attending "the fag-end of the season," owing to the systematic negligence of the performers, and the shameful proceedings of the operatives and mechanics of the establishment. It must be borne in mind that his account refers to a state of things existing some forty years ago. Much reformation has no doubt taken place in the matter, and the experience of the modern manager may be altogether different. Mr. Bunn had mentioned the subject to Ducrow, from whom he received a very graphic account of the conclusion of the campaign at Astley's. how you find it," said Ducrow, "but as soon as I announce the last nights of the season, the beggars begin to give themselves airs. I went into the theatre t'other night, and seeing a prime little roasting

"I don't know