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order to pass from an iron-clad, protected with six-inch armour and steaming fourteen knots per hour, to an unarmoured ship steaming sixteen and a half knots per hour. In steam propulsion, truly, c'est le dernier pas qui côute.

A few remarks respecting our other two cruisers will suffice. Both are now nearly ready for sea, and are being completed at Portsmouth, where one of them, the Volage, has been recently tried on the measured mile, and attained a speed exceeding 15 knots per hour. They are much smaller than either the Inconstant or the Wampanoag, being only a little over 2300 tons burden-in fact are fast corvettes, carrying all their guns on the upper deck, instead of being frigates, like the Inconstant. In structural arrangements, fineness of form, high speed under steam, and great sail-power, they resemble the larger ship, the prime difference, irrespective of size, consisting in the character of their armaments. It has already been stated that the armament of the Inconstant was regulated by that intended to have been carried by the American cruisers, and it is this fact alone which can justify such a heavy armament having been given to her, since she could scarcely hope to do more than "show her heels" to an armoured ship. The Volage and Active have been armed more with a view to their special service as rapid steam privateers than with the intention of fighting heavily-armed iron-clad ships. Hence they only carry 6-ton guns instead of 12-ton guns; but when we speak of their armament in this way, we only deal with it relatively to the heavier guns now carried on shipboard, for the 6-ton gun is much more powerful than the 68-pounder, which was our most powerful naval gun ten years ago, and which was then considered unnecessarily heavy for use on the broadside, since 32-pounders could smash in the side of a wood ship. It should be stated also that from what is known of the guns actually carried by the American cruisers, and the speeds at which they can proceed, it appears that our vessels, though smaller, could venture to engage their rivals; their superior speed enabling them to take up any position they might desire, say at long range, and to severely damage their less active foes. On the whole, then, it appears that their lighter armament is quite heavy enough for all the purposes these ships have to serve; and for privateering service, which after all is their special vocation, their armament is more powerful than it need be, while that of the Inconstant is out of all proportion to the necessities of the case. The Alabama was not wanting in gun-power, so far as we know, and until her fight with the Kearsage no doubt was entertained of its sufficiency, yet it consisted only of one 68-pounder, one 120-pounder Blakely gun,

and six 32-pounders, the united force of which is far below comparison with that of the guns carried by the Volage and Active. Still, it is satisfactory to know that in armament as well as in other particulars, our specially constructed cruisers are much more than a match for any of the improvised cruisers into which fast ocean steamers might be turned, and that such vessels might consequently be soon swept off the seas, even if they should have inflicted some damage before that event occurred. In view of all the facts, however, we are of opinion that the smaller and more lightly-armed cruiser of the Volage type will, in case of war, be found to do better service, proportionately to the cost of their maintenance, than the Inconstant; and in adding to the number of these vessels we trust the smaller type will be conformed to, especially as in time of peace these ships will be capable of performing economically the distant and cruising services now undertaken by wood ships.

The facts set forth in this article show that although the Americans led the way in the construction of these swift cruisers, and are still considerably ahead of us as far as numbers only are concerned, we stand above them in the quality and success of our ships, a fact which is owing mainly to the superiority of our engines and of our method of constructing the hulls. There seems no immediate prospect of our equalling the number of these ships completed in America, but this is the less to be regretted as we possess in our sea-going ironclads a description of force which is not to be found in the American navy; many of these vessels, as we have said, being faster under steam than most of the American cruisers, and having besides considerable sail-power. Should war ever break out between this country and America, there is little likelihood of our having to deal with their iron-clad fleet, so long as it continues to consist almost exclusively of monitors; but, these being retained on the coast in shallower waters than most of our iron-clads could enter, our ships would have to deal mainly with their unarmoured cruisers. These might for a time make some havoc amongst our merchant ships; yet having, as we should have, the full command of the sea by means of our sea-going iron-clads, we should probably make short work with these adversaries, and our own unarmoured cruisers would, without doubt, annihilate American commerce before hostilities had been long in progress. While desiring, as all must desire, that the necessity for such action may never arise, it cannot fail to give satisfaction to English readers to find that in all branches of our naval force suited to ocean-warfare we are still superior to America.

N. A.

02

LOVE IMMORTAL.

HE morn breaks on a thousand hills;
But all the glory of the morn,

Since I was left on earth forlorn,
No more to me sweet peace distils.

The snow a shroud of beauty weaves
For last year's flowers; the wizard earth
Hath lost the secret of its birth,
Dead with the dying of the leaves.

I walk among the silent fields,

Which once a footstep trod with mine,
But now a memory pure, divine,

Is all to me the prospect yields.

The snows have fallen on my head;

My cup is flowing to the brim.
With sorrow, and these eyes are dim
With constant weeping for the dead.

Dead! Dead! Nay, that shall never be,
For every star that lights the sky,
And darkness doth beautify,
Proclaims her immortality.

Sleep on, beloved, till above

I fly to meet thee, heart to heart;

And from the throne of God shall dart Eternal summer on our love!

G. S.

APPLAUSE, CALLS, AND ENCORES.

LAYERS, after all," averred Hazlitt, "have little reason to complain of their hard-earned, short-lived popularity. One thunder of applause from pit, boxes, and gallery is equal to a whole immortality of posthumous fame." Nevertheless, the transitory nature of an actor's rewards has oftentimes stirred regret and commiseration. Shakspeare, as we all know, makes sympathetic mention of the poor player,

"That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,

And then is heard no more."

Garrick, in his prologue to the "Clandestine Marriage," states feelingly:

"The painter dead, yet still he charms the eye,
While England lives his fame can never die ;
But he who struts his hour upon the stage,
Can scarce extend his fame for half an age;
Nor pen nor pencil can the actor save-

The art and artist share one common grave."

Cibber, in his "Apology," laments mellifluously, "that the momentary beauties flowing from an harmonious elocution cannot, like those of poetry, be their own record; that the animated graces of the actor can live no longer than the instant breath and motion that presents them; or, at least, can but faintly glimmer through the memory, or imperfect attestation of a few surviving spectators." And Hazlitt, himself, notwithstanding his dictum on the subject above set forth, has placed on record certain expressions of tenderness for the player's evanescent glory. "When an author dies it is no matter, for his works remain. When a great actor dies, there is a void produced in society, a gap which requires to be filled up. The literary amateur may find employment for his time in reading old authors only, and exhaust his entire spleen in scouting new ones; but the lover of the stage cannot amuse himself in his solitary fastidiousness by sitting to witness a play got up by the departed ghosts of first-rate actors; or be contented with the perusal of a collection of old playbills: he may extol Garrick, but he must go to see Kean, and, in his own defence,

must admire, or at least tolerate, what he sees, or stay away against his will." Hazlitt, it may be noted, was evidently writing under the impression that at no time would the stage be left without the support of players of the Garrick or Kean class. If he had survived until our present years of grace, it would have become a question with him how far he could admire or tolerate the condition of the modern stage; he might even be driven to accept the alternative he himself suggests, and stay away from our theatres altogether, only with his will rather than against it, in common with a very considerable section of society.

An actor, in regard to the honours of his profession, considered apart from its commercial results, occupies the position of one who has invested his whole fortune in the purchase of an annuity terminating at his decease, and who has become entitled, therefore, to a larger income than accrues to the man able to lay up treasure, and to provide for and bequeath property to posterity. The player can be rewarded only by the applause afforded him during the continuance of his theatrical career, and it is right, therefore, that such applause should fully correspond with and be adequate to his merits. The thunders of pit, boxes, and gallery, are evoked by his own efforts, are magnified and multitudinous echoes, as it were, of his individual speech; and when he "is heard no more," they, also, are silenced. Although it may be that

"In a theatre, the eyes of men
After a well-graced actor leaves the stage,
Are idly bent on him that follows next,
Thinking his prattle to be tedious,"-

still, it is certain, no more plaudits will be forthcoming for the "wellgraced," and in time the tedious prattler will be surely awarded his due share of recognition and favour. The retired actor can only console himself with the memory of his old by-gone triumphs, for certainly he can triumph no more. The shadow of an inevitable neglect falls upon him. A king has come to reign who does not know Joseph-who, indeed, has never had the chance of knowing him. A new public is delighting to honour new players. He suffers not so much from the world's fickleness,-though something might be urged, perhaps, on this head-as from its sheer ignorance of his merits. What, then, can an old actor do but die? It is true that a portrait or two of him may remain extant, for the consideration of the curious. From this the younger students of theatrical history, if such students should arise, may gather, if they will, something of what manner of

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