acting was really very fine. The
Russians were enthusiastic in their applause, though very few of them,
probably, understood the language of the part. The Oriental auditors
were perfectly impassive, and it was impossible to guess how they
regarded the performance.

The second act was in some respects the most amusing thing I ever saw
upon the stage. In the dagger-scene, Ira was, to my mind, quite equal to
Forrest; it was impossible to deny him unusual dramatic talent; but his
complexion, continually suggesting Othello, quite confounded me. The
amiable Russian Lady Macbeth was much better adapted to the part of
Desdemona: all softness and gentleness, she smiled as she lifted her
languishing eyes, and murmured in the tenderest accents, "Infirm of
purpose! give me the dagger!" At least, I took it for granted that these
were her words, for Macbeth had just said, "Look on 't again I dare
not." Afterwards, six Russian soldiers, in tan-colored shirts, loose
trousers, and high boots, filed in, followed by Macduff and Malcolm, in
the costume of Wallenstein's troopers. The dialogue--one voice English,
and all the others Russian--proceeded smoothly enough, but the effect
was like nothing which our stage can produce. Nevertheless, the audience
was delighted, and when the curtain fell there were vociferous cries of
"_Aira! Aira! Aldreetch! Aldreetch!_" until the swarthy hero made his
appearance before the foot-lights.

Monsieur D. conducted our friend P. into the green-room, where he was
received by Macbeth in costume. He found the latter to be a dignified,
imposing personage, who carried his tragic chest-tones into ordinary
conversation. On being informed by P. that the American minister was
present, he asked,--

"Of what persuasion?"

P. hastened to set him right, and Ira then remarked, in his gravest
tone,--"I shall have the honor of waiting upon him to-morrow morning";
which, however, he failed to do.

This son of the South, no doubt, came legitimately (or, at least,
naturally) by his dignity. His career, for a man of his blood and
antecedents, has been wonderfully successful, and is justly due, I am
convinced, since I have seen him, to his histrionic talents. Both black
and yellow skins are sufficiently rare in Europe to excite a particular
interest in those who wear them; and I had surmised, up to this time,
that much of his popularity might be owing to his color. But he
certainly deserves an honorable place among traged