for from three to six mortal hours listening to a play whose language they do not understand. I am very certain in no other country in the world would Madame Ristori have been able to make in one short season the great sum of one hundred and fifty thousand dollars for her own "share."
The "pit," which is so common in London, has in American theatres no existence, except in the sole instance of the Old Bowery Theatre, where the odoriferous peanut is munched, and the critical newsboy takes his nightly sup of histrionic horrors. The peanut is a production of Southern soil, and I believe is unknown in England—thrice happy in the ignorance; and as in German music halls "c-a-k-e-s—p-r-e-t-z-e-l-s" are hawked with sleepy perseverance, so in the Old Bowery Theatre an odious little ragamuffin carries about a ricketty basket containing apples, oranges and "candy," while above and before all, bonne-bouche intended for dirty bouches, "p-e-a-n-u-t-s" makes vocal all the air. The "Bowery boy" may be jacketless, hatless and barefooted, but he purchases largely of the crisp-coated nut, and thereupon rises on the atmosphere a strange earthy odor which no one who has once smelled it can ever forget. This theatre, however, is, as I before remarked, a solitary exception. In all the numberless theatres which America can boast of or blush for, there is no other instance to record where the ginger beer so disagreeably frequent in English pits is allowed to be popped; there are no apples, oranges, nor other edibles; in fact, no pit at all.
The dress of American actresses is more luxurious than any one who has not seen it would believe; as far above that of English actresses as a pound is above a dollar; so extravagant, indeed, that, in spite of the large salaries given, actresses are almost invariably required to do so much in the way of toilet, that it is no unusual thing for them to be largely in debt at the box office; the yearly benefit only sets them "square" again with the world, leaving them in the unpleasant predicament of having worked the whole season for nothing but a livelihood. Nor can they ever be said to reach that point where what is technically known as a "wardrobe" has been purchased, and will now serve them the rest of their days. The American actress must vary her dress with every varying fashion. Modern comedies require modern toilets, and that these are expensive, every married man can testify. It is related of Miss Madeline Henriques, the last leading lady of Wallack's, that she said her salary was not much more than sufficient to keep her in boots and gloves. Her father being a successful merchant, and her benefit receipts being always enormous, enabled her to hold the position with éclat. This extravagant system of stage toilet was "inaugurated" by a leading actress known to every visitor of New York theatres during the last ten years—Mrs. John Hoey,
