ions
with which she occasionally favored me, were delivered in the highest
style of the elocutionary art, and convinced me that she was destined to
meet with the most unbounded success.

She proposed making her _debut_ as _Beatrice_, in Shakespeare's glorious
comedy, "Much Ado About Nothing,"--a character well calculated to
display her arch vivacity and charming sprightliness. I saw her rehearse
the part, and was satisfied that she _must_ achieve a brilliant
triumph,--an opinion that was fully concurred in by her gratified
instructor, and also by the manager and several of the leading actors
and actresses of the theatre.

The eventful evening came at last, and the house was crowded in every
part. Seating myself in a private box in company with the actor who had
instructed Mrs. Raymond, I awaited her appearance with the utmost
confidence. The curtain arose, and the play commenced. When _Beatrice_
came on, a perfect storm of applause saluted her. Her appearance, in her
elegant and costly stage costume, was really superb. Perfectly
self-possessed, and undaunted by the sea of faces spread out before her,
she went on with her part, and was frequently interrupted by deafening
shouts of approval. The _Benedict_ of the evening being a very fine
actor, and the _Dogberry_ being as funny a dog as ever created a broad
grin or a hearty laugh--the entire comedy passed off in the most
admirable manner; and, at its conclusion, my fair friend being loudly
called for, she was led out in front of the curtain by _Benedict_. A
shower of bouquets now saluted her; and, having gracefully acknowledged
the kindness of the audience, she retired.

This decided success caused the manager to engage Mrs. Raymond at a
liberal salary. She subsequently appeared with equal success in a round
of the best characters; and the press, and every tongue, became eloquent
in her praise. She was now in a fair way to acquire a fortune as great
as the one which she had lost through the villainy of Livingston.

Thinking her worthy of a higher position than that of a mere stock
actress, I advised her, after a year's sojourn in Philadelphia, to
travel as a _star_. To this she eagerly assented, and accordingly I
accompanied her to New York, where she was immediately engaged by the
late Thomas S. Hamblin, of the Bowery Theatre.[L] Her success at this
popular establishment was unprecedented in the annals of dramatic
triumphs. Night after night was she greeted by crowd