“The opening season.—­Coliseum.—­Notwithstanding the inclemency of the weather, quite a respectable number of the rank and fashion of the city assembled last night to witness the debut upon metropolitan boards of the young tragedian who has of late been winning such golden opinions in the amphitheatres of the provinces.  Some sixty thousand persons were present, and but for the fact that the streets were almost impassable, it is fair to presume that the house would have been full.  His august Majesty, the Emperor Aurelius, occupied the imperial box, and was the cynosure of all eyes.  Many illustrious nobles and generals of the Empire graced the occasion with their presence, and not the least among them was the young patrician lieutenant whose laurels, won in the ranks of the “Thundering Legion,” are still so green upon his brow.  The cheer which greeted his entrance was heard beyond the Tiber!

“The late repairs and decorations add both to the comeliness and the comfort of the Coliseum.  The new cushions are a great improvement upon the hard marble seats we have been so long accustomed to.  The present management deserve well of the public.  They have restored to the Coliseum the gilding, the rich upholstery and the uniform magnificence which old Coliseum frequenters tell us Rome was so proud of fifty years ago.

“The opening scene last night—­the broadsword combat between two young amateurs and a famous Parthian gladiator who was sent here a prisoner—­was very fine.  The elder of the two young gentlemen handled his weapon with a grace that marked the possession of extraordinary talent.  His feint of thrusting, followed instantly by a happily delivered blow which unhelmeted the Parthian, was received with hearty applause.  He was not thoroughly up in the backhanded stroke, but it was very gratifying to his numerous friends to know that, in time, practice would have overcome this defect.  However, he was killed.  His sisters, who were present, expressed considerable regret.  His mother left the Coliseum.  The other youth maintained the contest with such spirit as to call forth enthusiastic bursts of applause.  When at last he fell a corpse, his aged mother ran screaming, with hair disheveled and tears streaming from her eyes, and swooned away just as her hands were clutching at the railings of the arena.  She was promptly removed by the police.  Under the circumstances the woman’s conduct was pardonable, perhaps, but we suggest that such exhibitions interfere with the decorum which should be preserved during the performances, and are highly improper in the presence of the Emperor.  The Parthian prisoner fought bravely and well; and well he might, for he was fighting for both life and liberty.  His wife and children were there to nerve his arm with their love, and to remind him of the old home he should see again if he conquered.  When his second assailant fell, the woman clasped