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, whilst performing in a field seems as not only to plunger a real dagger home to the hilt in his breast, but faithfully to support his character to the last by dying in a studied attitude, according to the most approved range rules. We confess, however, that the story come from the other side of the Atlantic, an I may not be strictly true. On the other hand, one of our foremost English actors — Young the tragedian — merited severe censure when he sobbed aloud at the pathetic tearful of Mrs. Siddone and was only recalled to a sense of his responsibilities as the villain of the piece, by the stern admonition of the great actress — uttered in a thrilling whisper--"Mr. Young command yourself." A weeping woman. Women have often an extraordinary talent for shedding tears. It is well that this should be so. Tears are not without their influence on the baser sex. Even brutish husbands — a class entering largely in the composition of society, whether high or low — are not invinci
ow a handkerchief moistened by her tears, and burying her face in her hands, wept silently and persistently. What could Eugenius do. He could only offer the respectful tribute of an occasional sigh or a glance of modest sympathy. At Swindleburg, as every one knows, the train stops ten minutes for refreshments. Eugenius delicately offered the afflicted lady a cup of tea. She declined; but in a low, musical voice, murmured the words, "A glass of stout." Eugenius flew to procure it for her. As tEugenius flew to procure it for her. As the train approached London, he endeavored to sooth her mind by other unostentatious little civilities. In accents of deep compassion he asked her commonplace questions. Would she like the window up? Might he offer her the loan of his railroad rug?ly giving him into custody on a charge of insulting the unprotected female who had been his fellow-traveller to London. Eugenius remembers little more beyond a dreadful now — his hat knocked over his eyes amidst the plaudits of an indignant mob — th
d attitude, according to the most approved range rules. We confess, however, that the story come from the other side of the Atlantic, an I may not be strictly true. On the other hand, one of our foremost English actors — Young the tragedian — merited severe censure when he sobbed aloud at the pathetic tearful of Mrs. Siddone and was only recalled to a sense of his responsibilities as the villain of the piece, by the stern admonition of the great actress — uttered in a thrilling whisper--"Mr. Young command yourself." A weeping woman. Women have often an extraordinary talent for shedding tears. It is well that this should be so. Tears are not without their influence on the baser sex. Even brutish husbands — a class entering largely in the composition of society, whether high or low — are not invincible to tears, especially when sober. But women must be careful not to weep over lately. The demonstration should be reserved for special occasions. The more frugally tears th