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the most trifling motion had its degree of language. Finer attitudes of reproach and lofty fury, of passionate pleading and abandonment to overwhelming denunciation, we think a painter could scarce invent. Her great beauty, and the singular fitness of her looks to the character, completed the illusion, and it was Norma, that, with moved heart, we saw and pitied, not Steffanoni. At the dropping of the curtain upon the unexpected and wonderful acting of this scene, the applause of the electrified audience was tumultuous.

How this delightful musical advent will wear, with the trials in other characters, we cannot say. Norma kept up her power throughout the remaining scenes of the Opera, and went off with a triumph to which there was no drawback or dissent. The fascinating reserve of power which there seems to be, even when most excited, promises well for other efforts, and we can only wonder, Steffanoni being what she shows herself in this trying character, that the trumpet of Fame had not more noised her coming and value.

There is a French proverb which is worthy to be the "posy of a ring"-" on ne peut trop s'humilier devant Dieu, ni trop braver les hommes"—and, whatever may be the religious humility of Signor Marti and the Havanese company, they seem to have made the latter expediency, that of snubbing the public, their rule of professional conduct. And it takes. The anecdotes that are afloat, of Steffanoni's empress-like caprices and Vesuvian demonstrations of will-the questions as to the Ariadne-necked Bosio's tractability—the certainty of Marini's being, with all his vim and vehemence, as journalier as the loveliest of women—the April-like caprices of the delicate he-and-she organ of Salvi--are

TFFECT OF APPLAUSE.

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all, we repeat, intensifications of the public interest in this Opera company, and we would give something to hear of one indignant component of the Public who has stayed away from Niblo's in consequence. No, sir! No, Madam! Obsequiousness is too much used in business in this country, (politeness and "drumming" being the up-town and down-town terms for the same commodity,) to be politic or captivating; and we like those best who have most the air of being able to do without us—many an old-fashioned axiom to the contrary notwithstanding. See the crowded houses, on the nights after our sovereign public has been put off, at three hours' warning, and reflect upon the things "put up with," such as the bouquets that suffer from "hope deferred," countermanded beaux, and general dislocation of the week's engagements!

We take back a little of the indifference we expressed last week, as to Steffanoni's performance in "La Favorita," for we have since sat it out, and, though the first third of it is all spurts and attitudinizing, it mellows as it gets on. We had chanced. never before to see the Opera except with the pussy-cat personation of Bertucca, and wooden-puppet playing of Forti, and it was hard to displace so unfortunate an impression. The Havanese Cleopatra, however, took up the composer's inspiration, at the point where the unhappy mistress of the King first feels true love. for the husband to whom she has been given as a riddance, and, thence onward, through scorn and abandonment to forgiveness. and death, she gave us the perfection of lyric tragedy, in an overwhelming probability and truthfulness. She is a great woman, this Steffanoni! We were struck, by the way, with the exquisite letting-out of fold after fold of reserve, produced by the persevering acclamation of the audience at the close of the long

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solo, we think, in the second act. Thunder No. 1-she slightly and gravely curtesied with a simple look of "I thank you." Thunder No. 2-she slightly spread her hands, and curtesied a little more proclivitously, with a look of "I am glad you like it, but it would have been just as good if you hadn't." Thunder No. 3-her features indolently relaxed, and she spread those well-moulded and beautiful arms a little farther, with a condescending look of "You are my natural subjects, and I kindly receive your homage." Thunder and no end to it—and at last there came the indolent and reluctant smile-the curtsy was lowered to the point of overcome-itude-the magnificent arms. spread and stood motionless at one graceful posé for a moment, and then-applause continuing-out turned, (like the leaves of a water-lily, blooming in a second, to the sun breaking through a cloud) those dimpled and tapering fingers, with the soft and white palm of her telegraphic hand, held for the first time, freely and affectionately open to the public. With an eighth of an inch of gesture, we never dreamed before that so much could be added to what had been already expressed, but it said, "New York really begins to know me, at last, and I'll sing as I know how— so, idolize away!" And so we will, you superb and imperial

creature!

FREDERIKA BREMER.

MISS BREMER left New York, in the glow of a second impression which had entirely superseded the first. By the dangerous experiment of displacing a glowing ideal by an unprepossessing reality-substituting the flesh and blood for the imaginary image-she seemed at first to be a sufferer. The slowness with which she spoke, and the pertinacity with which she insisted on understanding the most trifling remark made to her, a little dashed the enthusiasm of those who newly made her acquaintance. Farther intercourse, however, brought out a quaint and quiet self-possession, a shrewd vein of playfulness, a quick observation, and a truly charming simplicity, which re-won all the admiration she had lost, and added, we fancy, even to the ideal of expectation. Those who have seen her most intimately pronounce her to be all goodness, truth and nature, and she is, (as far as our own observation goes,) a walking lesson of manners of another school, of which our own may well profit in the study.

CONVERSATIONAL literature, or books written as agreeable people talk, is the present fashion with authors and passion with readers. Herman Melville, with his cigar and his Spanish eyes, talks Typee and Omoo, just as you find the flow of his delightful mind on paper. Those who have only read his books know the man-those who have only seen the man have a fair idea of his books. Thackeray's novels are stenographed from his every-day rattle with his intimates. "Two Years before the Mast" is like a quiet, tete-a-tete yarn. "Kaloolah" carries you away with its un-literary reality. In writing a book, now-a-days, the less you "smell of the shop" the better it sells.

This is an exponent of the age. It is the "spirit of the time" to get rid of hindrances and "nonsense." In diplomacy, straightforwardness has stripped the artichoke of etiquette down to a palatable pith. In war, men go to battle with the least cumbrous dress instead of the heaviest armor. In legislatures, he who is least of a rhetorician and comes quickest to the point, has the most influence. In society, late balls and formal suppers are yielding to early "receptions" and light entertainment. In