love, and when Zekiel
finds that his trusted friend has repulsed him and would wrong his
sister, there is a fine flash of noble anger in the pride and scorn with
which he confronts this falsehood and dishonour. Florence in days when
he used to act the Irish Emigrant proved himself the consummate master
of simple pathos. He struck that familiar note again in the lovely
manner of Zekiel toward his sister Cicely, and his denotement of the
struggle between affection and resentment in the heart of the brother
when wounded by the depravity of his friend was not less beautiful in
the grace of art than impressive in simple dignity and touching in
passionate fervour. In point of natural feeling Zekiel Homespun is a
stronger part than Dr. Pangloss, although not nearly so complex nor so
difficult to act. The sentiments by which it is animated awaken instant
sympathy and the principles that impel command universal respect. No
actor who has attempted Zekiel Homespun in this generation on the
American stage has approached the performance that was given by
Florence, in conviction, in artless sweetness, in truth of passion, and
in the heartfelt expression of the heart.

Purists customarily insist that the old comedies are sacred; that no one
of their celestial commas or holy hyphens can be omitted without sin;
and that the alteration of a sentence in them is sacrilege. The truth
stands, however, without regard to hysterics: and it is a truth that the
old comedies owe their vitality mostly to the actors who now and then
resuscitate them. No play of the past is ever acted with scrupulous
fidelity to the original text. The public that saw the _Heir-at-Law_ and
the _Rivals_, when Jefferson and Florence acted in them, saw condensed
versions, animated by a living soul of to-day, and therefore it was
impressed. The one thing indispensable on the stage is the art of the
actor.

X.

ON THE DEATH OF FLORENCE.

The melancholy tidings of the death of Florence came suddenly (he died
in Philadelphia, after a brief illness, November 19, 1891), and struck
the hearts of his friends not simply with affliction but with dismay.
Florence was a man of such vigorous and affluent health that the idea of
illness and death was never associated with him. Whoever else might go,
he at least would remain, and for many cheerful years he would please
our fancy and brighten our lives. His spirit was so buoyant and
brilliant that it seemed not possible it