that common tragedy,
a woman of genius who throws away her precious heart, lives and dies
for one unworthy of her. In parts this effect is productive of too
much pain. I saw Rachel one night with her brother and sister. The
sister imitated her so closely that you could not help seeing she
had a manner, and an imitable manner. Her brother was in the play her
lover,--a wretched automaton, and presenting the most unhappy family
likeness to herself. Since then I have hardly cared to go and see her.
We could wish with geniuses, as with the Phoenix, to see only one of
the family at a time.

In the pathetic or sentimental drama Paris boasts another young
actress, nearly as distinguished in that walk as Rachel in hers.
This is Rose Cheny, whom we saw in her ninety-eighth personation of
Clarissa Harlowe, and afterward in Genevieve and the _Protege sans
le Savoir_,--a little piece written expressly for her by Scribe.
The "Miss Clarisse" of the French drama is a feeble and partial
reproduction of the heroine of Richardson; indeed, the original in all
its force of intellect and character would have been too much for
the charming Rose Cheny, but to the purity and lovely tenderness of
Clarissa she does full justice. In the other characters she was
the true French girl, full of grace and a mixture of _naivete_ and
cunning, sentiment and frivolity, that is winning and _piquant_, if
not satisfying. Only grief seems very strange to those bright eyes; we
do not find that they can weep much and bear the light of day, and the
inhaling of charcoal seems near at hand to their brightest pleasures.

At the other little theatres you see excellent acting, and a sparkle
of wit unknown to the world out of France. The little pieces in which
all the leading topics of the day are reviewed are full of drolleries
that make you laugh at each instant. _Poudre-Colon_ is the only one of
these I have seen; in this, among other jokes, Dumas, in the character
of Monte-Christo and in a costume half Oriental, half juggler, is made
to pass the other theatres in review while seeking candidates for his
new one.

Dumas appeared in court yesterday, and defended his own cause against
the editors who sue him for evading some of his engagements. I was
very desirous to hear him speak, and went there in what I was assured
would be very good season; but a French audience, who knew the ground
better, had slipped in before me, and I returned, as has been too
often the c