her children to her breast and wept for joy.  But it was only a transient happiness.  The captive staggered toward her and she saw that the liberty he had earned was earned too late.  He was wounded unto death.  Thus the first act closed in a manner which was entirely satisfactory.  The manager was called before the curtain and returned his thanks for the honor done him, in a speech which was replete with wit and humor, and closed by hoping that his humble efforts to afford cheerful and instructive entertainment would continue to meet with the approbation of the Roman public

“The star now appeared, and was received with vociferous applause and the simultaneous waving of sixty thousand handkerchiefs.  Marcus Marcellus Valerian (stage name—­his real name is Smith,) is a splendid specimen of physical development, and an artist of rare merit.  His management of the battle-ax is wonderful.  His gayety and his playfulness are irresistible, in his comic parts, and yet they are inferior to his sublime conceptions in the grave realm of tragedy.  When his ax was describing fiery circles about the heads of the bewildered barbarians, in exact time with his springing body and his prancing legs, the audience gave way to uncontrollable bursts of laughter; but when the back of his weapon broke the skull of one and almost in the same instant its edge clove the other’s body in twain, the howl of enthusiastic applause that shook the building, was the acknowledgment of a critical assemblage that he was a master of the noblest department of his profession.  If he has a fault, (and we are sorry to even intimate that he has,) it is that of glancing at the audience, in the midst of the most exciting moments of the performance, as if seeking admiration.  The pausing in a fight to bow when bouquets are thrown to him is also in bad taste.  In the great left-handed combat he appeared to be looking at the audience half the time, instead of carving his adversaries; and when he had slain all the sophomores and was dallying with the freshman, he stooped and snatched a bouquet as it fell, and offered it to his adversary at a time when a blow was descending which promised favorably to be his death-warrant.  Such levity is proper enough in the provinces, we make no doubt, but it ill suits the dignity of the metropolis.  We trust our young friend will take these remarks in good part, for we mean them solely for his benefit.  All who know us are aware that although we are at times justly severe upon tigers and martyrs, we never intentionally offend gladiators.

“The Infant Prodigy performed wonders.  He overcame his four tiger whelps with ease, and with no other hurt than the loss of a portion of his scalp.  The General Slaughter was rendered with a faithfulness to details which reflects the highest credit upon the late participants in it.

“Upon the whole, last night’s performances shed honor not only upon the management