sion he personated the character of MELANTIUS in
'_The Bridal_' with transcendent power. We have seen this fine actor in no
part, if we except perhaps that of Werner, in which his genius shone so
conspicuous. He was admirably supported by the scarcely subordinate
characters represented by WHEATLY, RIDER, Miss CUSHMAN, and Mrs. H. HUNT.
Mr. WHEATLY has evidently much of 'the heavy business' at the Park upon
his broad shoulders, for he appears in two or three pieces almost every
night. On the occasion alluded to, no sooner had the curtain risen after
'The Bridal,' than we found him making Stentorian love ('in a horn') to
the 'Dumb Belle' of the evening, in which he excited shouts of uproarious
laughter. At the BOWERY THEATRE, as well as at the CHATHAM, '_The
Mysteries of Paris_' has run a most successful career. The OLYMPIC has
been crowded nightly by the mingled attractions of opera and travestie;
while the BOWERY AMPHITHEATRE and ROCKWELL'S Circus at NIBLO'S, have
shared abundantly in the favor bestowed now-a-days upon popular
entertainments. . . . 'DRESS always and _act_ to please your partner for
life, as you were fain to do before the nuptial-knot was tied.' This is an
old maxim, and here is 'a commentator upon it.' A newly-married lady is
suddenly surprised by a visit from a newly-married man, when she
straightway begins to apologize: 'She is horribly chagrined, and out of
countenance, to be caught in such a dishabille; she did not mind how her
clothes were huddled on, not expecting any company, there being nobody at
home but her husband!' The husband meanwhile shakes the visitor's hand,
and says: 'I am heartily glad to see you, JACK: I don't know how it was, I
was almost asleep; for as there was nobody at home but my wife, I did not
know what to do with myself!' . . . THE beautiful lines by Mrs. M. T. W.
CHANDLER, elsewhere in the present number, illustrate, or are illustrated
by the following passage from WARREN HASTING'S eloquent reflections upon
the changes to which the SOUL is destined hereafter: 'When the hour is at
hand which is to dissolve the mortal tie, the soul parts without regret
with those delights which it received from its sensual gratifications, and
dwells only, dwells with a fond affection, on the partner or pledges of
its love; or on friends from whom it seems to be cut off for ever; and if
it looks, as it must look, to futurity, these are the first objects of its
wishes connected with it, and the fi