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who had the superintendence of the heels of the springing generation in that portion of the globe.
In the course of time we beheld many professional artists (English ones) at theatres and other public places, and always felt relieved when they got through their work; and the performance of the Winnebago Indians nearly convinced us that dancing in all nations, whether savage or civilized, was a foolish abomination. The appearance, however, of Hutin, and the French corps de ballet, threw some light upon the subject. The dancers of a nation of dancers were brought to the American shores to expound the mysteries of the Academie de la Musique. The essence, the quintessence of dancing, was what was expected, and had Vestris never appeared, it might still have passed for such. Here, at least, was some approach to an union of grace and agility; while the boldness and novelty of the spectacle threw the audience into a state of most undignified surprise. They did not know exactly what to make of it, but took it for granted that it must be superlatively fine, and consequently counterfeited an exuberance of admiration; but when, in the pas seul of “ I've been roaming,” Hutin came bounding like a stag from the top to the bottom of the stage in about three springs, the connoisseurs in the pit were really
plification of the importance a man's feelings and actions are to himself, and the less than the shadow of a shade they are to the rest of the world, than is to be witnessed in a farce where Liston alights from a coach top, and is followed on to the stage by the driver for the customary gratuity. Those who have traveled in England may have remarked the manner in which the coachmen receive what the traveler may be pleased to give them. While he is getting the money from his pocket Jehu is all attention; but the moment he has received it, his business is over-he turns upon his heel, and all traces of the giver pass from his mind for ever. Liston detains the coachman, (and you can see in his countenance the vital importance he attaches to what he is about,) in order to draw the distinction and durably impress it upon his mind that his (Liston's) giving him a sixpence was by no means a compulsory measure, but a pure and spontaneous emanation of generosity, or, to use his own phraseology, “ hentirely hoptional.” A person standing on the brink of a running stream on a cold day, seriously employed in“ writing his name in water," would be accounted insane—the attempt to write munificence and generosity on the coachman's mind, is equally futile ; yet how many in the world make these and similar efforts who are not accounted crazy, and whose last will and testament stands good in law.
There has been much said about the ugliness of Liston's physiognomy. I do not think it such as can be fairly termed ugly; yet it is a face that a sensitive sculptor would faint to look upon—a large mass of inanimate flesh, with only an every-day mouth, a most insignificant nose, both as to size and shape, and a pair of lack-lustre eyes to diversify the blank and extensive prospect, but the word "ugly” gives no more definite idea of it than the word“ beauty.” It is a paradoxical face, most expressive in expressing the absence of all expression; yet at times combining the expression of the most inveterate stupidity with concentrated conceit and supreme self-satisfaction, in a way that has never been equalled. There are many who, by the common play of the muscles or contortion of the features, can counterfeit stupidity and conceit, in a greater or less degree, at separate times; but not one who, like Liston, can at the same time make you feel perfectly assured not only that the personage he is representing has not an idea, but also, that all attempts to make him sensible of that fact, or to inoculate him with one, would be altogether hopeless. His voice is as unique as his face; and the deep sepulchral croak, in which he narrates
lean back at their ease- assume a knowing and intelligent look-nod complacently at the execution of any surprising mancuvre, and indulge in the most sweeping eulogiums without fear of committing themselves; for she is
“such a dancer
NOTWITHSTANDING the manifold dramatic sins and improprieties of this great man and multifarious actor, he is by no means a disagreeable or unentertaining personage. Some of his efforts are highly amusing; and at all times he at least never fails in securing his own most decided approbation, as is quite evident from the everlasting smile of selfcomplacency which irradiates his very good-looking countenance; and, be it remarked, that in these captious, fault-finding, universal-diffusion-of-knowledge times, when every one who turns over an author or looks at an actor or picture, feels in duty bound to furnish forth his mite of carping criticism, in order to make manifest the preternatural acuteness it has pleased heaven to invest him with, a confirmed habit of self-approval is by no means an uncomfortable quality. It is really a pleasure to any man who delights in witnessing the happiness