alism needs an apology.

It is the natural outcome of circumstances and the democratic times we
live in. The Theatre-Francais is not now, under a Republic, and probably
never again will be, what it was when it was placed under the patronage
and supervision of the French Court. Democracy is the form of government
least of all calculated to foster literature and the fine arts. To that
purpose, Monarchy, with its Court and its fashionable society, is the
best. This is no reason to prefer a monarchy to a republic. Liberty,
like any other luxury, has to be paid for.

Journalism cannot be now what it was when papers were read by people of
culture. In a democracy, the stage and journalism have to please the
masses of the people. As the people become better and better educated,
the stage and journalism will rise with them. What the people want, I
repeat it, is news, and journals are properly called _news_ papers.

Speaking of American journalism, no man need use apologetic language.

Not when the proprietor of an American paper will not hesitate to spend
thousands of dollars to provide his readers with the minutest details
about some great European event.

Not when an American paper will, at its own expense, send Henry M.
Stanley to Africa in search of Livingstone.

Not so long as the American press is vigilant, and keeps its thousand
eyes open on the interests of the American people.

* * * * *

_Midnight._

Dined this evening with Richard Mansfield at Delmonico's. I sat between
Mr. Charles A. Dana, the first of American journalists, and General
Horace Porter, and had what my American friends would call "a mighty
elegant time." The host was delightful, the dinner excellent, the wine
"extra dry," the speeches quite the reverse. "Speeches" is rather a big
word for what took place at dessert. Every one supplied an anecdote, a
story, a reminiscence, and contributed to the general entertainment of
the guests.

The Americans have too much humor to spoil their dinners with toasts to
the President, the Senate, the House of Representatives, the army, the
navy, the militia, the volunteers, and the reserved forces.

I once heard Mr. Chauncey M. Depew referring to the volunteers, at some
English public dinner, as "men invincible--in peace, and invisible--in
war." After dinner I remarked to an English peer:

"You have heard to-night the great New York after-dinner speaker; what
do you think