Georgiana Rosa Hodson

A MAN sets out to write his diary with fear AND trembling. He generally has secrets to tell, and he knows that in the telling, he will be likely to tread on someone's corns. Commonly it happens that when he could write the most downright stuff he is too young to have recollections; when he is old enough to have garnered a goodly store of memories he has reached an age of discretion and understanding, and steps warily among souvenirs of the past, whose very bitterness have been toned down into kindly remembrance.

"Poor old Smith," he is likely to murmur, "perhaps he didn't really mean me when he made that remark at Brown's supper party."

To be old is to give the benefit of the doubt. And so, in these memoirs of mine, I hope it will be realised that I set down nothing in malice, and even extenuate, where it seems more kindly to do so. To be old is also to be garrulous, but garrulity is the virtue of a memoirist, for every contemporary looks at the text with a magnifying glass to see if the gods of his idolatry have been given a goodly place, while the ill-natured, recollecting ancient scandals, are anxious to savour the old stories once again.

For the present generation, who may fear the boredom of waiting to see me emerge from a too long dive into the past, let me say that I am, after all, none so old but that I know intimately all their present favorites, and many a story shall I have to tell, if they will journey with me, to break the monotony of the voyage.

There is a fascination, about the stage, as about the cricket field, to which most people must plead guilty, even those who imagine that actors and their female kind are still "rogues and vagabonds," dangerously attractive to headstrong youth, and against whom some strict legislation should even now be in vogue.

I shall hope to show, In the course of my writing that these stage folk are no different from others, but warm, human (which is to say culpable at times), merry and sad, their lives a compound of comedy and tragedy, even as others. If they some times sin, it is as part of the great human family, and their virtues are at least as conspicuous as their faults. They have the great misfortune to be much in the public eye, that baleful orb that fastens itself fixedly on all those whose names get into print. The trouble is that a convex mirror such as the human eye magnifies most confoundedly.

I shall try to avoid that most common error of men whose lives were spent mainly in times past, the tendency to hark back with a sentimentality that exalts the past just because it is past, at the expense of the present. Let me say at once, to avoid all misunderstanding, that I regard the Australian theatre at the present day as far in advance of what I knew in earlier times, in production, and all those externals that catch the eye. If I consider that the old actor belonged to a sounder school, that the old plays were more "meaty," that is a mere matter of opinion, in which I may be proved to be wrong. In general, these memoirs will consist of re collections, and will be as free from argument as possible.

Australia's First Impresario

What a complete change has come over the stage since the days when my uncle, William Saurin Lyster, Australia's first impresario, brought Grand Opera to the city that was then only dimly conscious it would one day be one of the greatest in the Empire. How my uncle would have stared to see the bare-legged choruses of today, curvetting and prancing round the stage.

[Image] An impression of Harry Musgrove.

I shut my eyes and try to imagine the sedate, almost middle-aged ladies of the ballet away back in the 70's doing such a thing. Harder still, I try to picture my uncle proposing to dress his next ballet by undressing them, and broaching the idea to the ladies themselves. I think that then and there William Saurin Lyster would have ceased to be, and in the van of the attack, would have been his own wife, the lovely Georgina Hodson. And yet, there is nothing fundamental in the change. Tights were then de rigueur, bare flesh now. After all, it is mainly a matter of the price at which silkworms can be persuaded to function.

One thing this generation has in common with the earliest I remember. That is the absence of what is known as the "stage door Johnny." The period between these extremes was notable for the genus. Armed with flowers, they used to wait in the lobbies on the safety side of the stage doorkeeper, and await the adored one's exit, Then a gallant arm would be offered, and a waiting hansom would receive the two, and the night would swallow them up. It was the prevalence of this practice that led to the custom of appointing sergeant-majors as doorkeepers. The sergeant-majors soon learnt the necessary language to keep the-''Johnny" at a reasonable distance.

Perhaps the fact that the earliest companies of which I took any note were the Grand Opera companies brought out by Lyster, in which the prima donnas were not usually beautiful which brought about the beautiful loneliness of the stage door. When the second cycle of stage history in Melbourne came in with the "Tambour Major," and its beauteous principals and chorus, the virtue of Melbourne's gilded youth showed unmistakable signs of wearing thin, like their patience as they waited in serried ranks on a wet night.

Undecorative as it was, this first, or Grand Opera period, was a brilliant one, and Melbourne has never had so liberal a feast of music in all its existence as Lyster gave it. The city went mad over singers then, just as it went mad over Gladys Moncrieff in days just past.

Gladys Moncrieff's First Difficulty

That comparison makes me reflect. I think of Gladys, so slim when she first won popularity that she asked me whatever she would do to hide her thin shanks from public ridicule. I showed her a wrinkle or two, how to pad the legs out so as to deceive the cash customers, and sent her to the wardrobe mistress to have the deceit properly staged. When the night came, I was hanging over the back of the circle to watch her entrance. I gasped when I saw her, for the pads had slipped, and Gladys appeared in the thickest pair of ankles that ever distinguished a Lyster prima donna. She learnt a lesson from that occurrence. If you are going to deceive, take good care you do deceive; don't wear your calves in front.

Gladys popularity was quite independent of thin legs. Time altered her disability in that respect, but the affection of the public remained constant. It is given to few, and to none of the older favourites of the Lyster regime, to fill a theatre for 14 weeks without the management selling a single back stall. That was Gladys Moncrieff's achievement at the Theatre Royal.

In its way, however, the days at the Opera House, now the Tivoli, were quite as brilliant. They set a hard pace for other managements to emulate. Let me recapitulate some of this past history, so as to get the stage ready for what is to follow.

It is necessary for me to give a few autobiographical facts. I can hear some cynic remark, "We're not interested in what a memoirist is, only in what he remembers, and very little of that." Well, all I want to do is to give some reason for my being here to remember anything.

The Beginning

In the '60's, my father, who was an accountant and entirely unconnected with the stage, came out from Surrey and settled in Geelong. Geelong then imagined it was going to be Victoria's leading city and it rather gave itself airs. It possessed a fine theatre, in which our family took not the slightest interest, except for my mother, who could not forget, that, however interesting my father's figures were, her own was even more so. She had been on the stage before her marriage as Fanny Hodson. Her brother, George Hodson, was well-known in London as a comedian, and the Hodson family were very proud of being related to the great tragedienne, Mrs. Scott Siddons. Another sister was also on the stage, a sweet singer, and lovely woman, Georgina Hodson who had married William Saurin Lyster. It is to William Lyster that the theatrical fortunes of the Musgroves, such as they were, became due, and it was therefore through him that the whole, course of Australian theatrical history was changed.

For Uncle William decided to make Australia an experimental Tom Tiddler's ground. He brought a Grand Opera company out here, and did so well that, he went home to London and brought another out. Then he got the habit, and laid the foundations of a fortune.

I smile when Melbourne congratulates itself in these days on supporting a few weeks of grand opera, when I remember Melbourne Town, when it was almost in swaddling clothes, attending so assiduously at the Opera House as to keep opera almost always in session.

[Image] facsimile of the poster in connection with the first opera company brought to Australia.

True, salaries were very meagre, and the mounting was on nothing like the present scale. It was a rare musical treat, all the same, and I have yet to hear better voices in a general opera company than those exploited to make a Lyster fortune. Twenty-two different operas were presented by William Lyster, including some modern managements haven't the pluck to stage. We had "Don Pasquale" in those days; and until the last opera company in Melbourne put it on for a couple of performances it has, I believe, never been done since.

[Image] The last photograph taken in Australia of Gladys Moncrieff, whose first difficulty and misadventure on the stage is here related.

My First Play

Shall I ever forget my first play? Our uncle had taken Geelong in his itinerary, but I had never been to the plays, being still too young. It was one day, after we had left Geelong, and had come to live In Windsor, my brother George being then in a solicitor's office here, that my uncle called at my mother's house. He always drove in a brougham. The grand affair stopped with a flourish outside the house, and my uncle stepped in.
"How about taking one of the youngsters in with me to the theatre?" he asked, in a god-like tone.
You may imagine how we looked up to him.
"Take young Harry," exclaimed my mother.
"Done with you," boomed my uncle.
"Where will you put him?" asked my mother. The reply froze my young soul.
"I'll put him in a box," said Lyster. I piped up, scared, and yet fascinated.
"You mustn't shut the lid down, then," I stipulated.
The opera was "Les Huguenots," and it remains for me an unforgettable memory of perfect bliss. It is curious to look back and reflect on what particular act altered the whole course of one's life. That night gave me a liking for the stage I have never shaken off. Not that I ever had the least desire to become an actor. None of the Musgroves ever had. We early got caught on the managerial side, and it is on that side we all made our way.

In Geelong we three Musgrove boys, Frank, George and myself first began to grow up good Australians. There was another youngster there at the time who became famous. He has remained so, and still has a finger in almost every pie. His name is Theodore Fink. He and George were boyhood chums, and remained so until George's death. It was Theodore Fink who broke the news to me that my brother had died suddenly, and at every important happening that affected George, I seem to see Theodore's presence as guide-philosopher and friend, not, alas, always heeded.

When I was 16, I got my heart's desire. I was taken into the office of the Lyster organisation and commenced to learn the intricacies of management.

Stars of Other Days

At this stage I would like to put down my recollection of some of the stars that blazed in this firmament. Some of them I cannot pretend to remember, for it is difficult to say at a tender age just where one's own memory is supplemented by the stories of others. The contralto of the company was Aunt Judy, as we always called Georgina Hodson, who was Mrs. Lyster in private life. I remember her as a beautiful woman, who often played boys parts and who, in consequence, was to the day of her death, as upright, and as springy as a boy. She was a rock of common-sense, and anything less like the traditional actress of popular fancy could not be conceived. Madame Baratti was the soprano, an ugly woman, whose father was an entirely unnecessary chaperon. She had a beautiful voice, however, and used to receive lovely flowers. Her father loved these kindly attentions, for they provided him with a source of pocket-money. Every morning he would cart the floral tributes of admirers up to Paddy's Market and sell them for what they would fetch.

A link with today is provided by the Coys, as they were called, a tenor and soprano, who elected to make their home in Melbourne, where they became teachers of singing, and as such were well-known till a short time ago. Signor Coy started a pastry-cook's business in Swanston street, which he ran for years, true to the genius of Italians for conducting places where they either sing or eat.

In the orchestra playing at His Majesty's at this very time is a son of the Coys. Dondi and Susini were the bassos, and Rosnati and Paladinl the tenors. Caricaturists of the period, as Will Dyson and Wells do today, were fond of cartooning the tenors, with their lovelorn looks and picturesque dress. I reproduce one such picture that caused a good deal of amusement to the public and heart burning to the afflicted victim in those distant days.

William Lyster himself was more picturesque than any of his troupe. A big, six-foot, black-a-vised Irishman, he possessed a fearsome temper that often found an outlet in queer ways, While he had a stage manager, all rehearsals used to be conducted by himself in person, and his black temper used suddenly to flare forth. Then, as now, prima donnas possessed temperament, and were capable of walking off the stage indisposed, so my uncle was always sufficiently in control of himself to confine his antics to his own immediate vicinity. I have seen him take off the belltopper without which he never came on the stage, throw it down, and jump on it violently. After which gentle ebullition, he would calm down suddenly, and send a boy out to buy a new hat. The exercise relieved him enormously.

That Lyster was an unusual man is shown by his hobby of farming. Up in the lovely foothills near Ferntree Gully he owned about 1000 acres, which he turned into a model farm. The place round about has been named Lysterfield after him. Thither he would drive behind a spanking horse every week-end, taking his wife along, and straightway they would become bucolic tillers of the soil. Everything was of the best on the farm, and when Lyster. took trips to England to look for talent, he was as careful to buy good farm material as good voice material,

[Image] William Saurin Lyster, the first impresario in Australia.

On one occasion I remember he brought back what was known as a "crabbing machine." Its purpose was to fatten turkeys by forcible feeding. So far as I know, the Lysterfield turkeys had shown no sign of suffragette views, but, nevertheless, it was decided to try the crabber on one of them as a test. It was supposed to fatten a turkey for Christmas in half the normal time taken by dull Nature. Unfortunately, the experiment failed, for the turkey burst. The crabber was abandoned, and henceforth Nature took its course.

Shooting of Armes Beaumont

One of Melbourne's sweetest singers was a member of the Lyster company. This was the tenor, Armes Beaumont. He and my uncle were great friends, sharing a liking for country pursuits. This very fact led to a terrible accident.

They were shooting one afternoon near Donnybrook, and had separated in search of rabbits and quail. Beaumont had screened himself behind a stone wall, and rose stealthily to reconnoitre for birds. At the sudden movement my uncle turned, and loosed off his gun just as the singer's face appeared above the wall. He received the charge full in the face. Streaming with blood, he fell, and Lyster, half dead with terror, rushed up to him. Everything was done that could be done, but though the tenor recovered, his eyesight was ruined. He lost entirely the sight of one eye, and the other took a most terrible squint, so that when Beaumont ignored you most he was taking most stock of you.

Few artists have ever attained the popularity of Armes Beaumont, and to the day of his death he was one of the idols of the musical world. He died in 1913, his last years made smooth by the competence Lyster left him at his own death.

I have now come to the end of the Lyster regime. Another entrepreneur was coming on the scene, a most surprising person, who was to make history. He was no less than my brother George.

George was a solicitor's clerk, but as he had a good head, he had been most useful to my uncle in a variety of ways. He had even taken a grand opera company around New Zealand. All this time he had been developing a flair for the business. One day he came into the office and told me he was about to ask my uncle for a certain appointment. He went into the Governor's office, while I awaited the outcome in the street. Presently George came out, his face a thundercloud.
"Did you get it?" I asked.
"No,' He gave it to someone else," said George, shortly. "Harry, do you know what I'm going to do? I'm going to get a couple of thousand pounds, and I'm going to London to bring a company out myself."

It was the first beginnings of the new dispensation.

(To be Continued.)

Contemporary with the arrival of Joseph Jefferson and Harry Sullivan came the opera troupe, controlled by as true a gentleman as ever set foot upon our shores,

WILLIAM SAURIN LYSTER

who arrived from San Francisco in 1861. In the troupe were Madame Lucy Escott, Miss Rosalie Durand, Miss Georgia Hodgson (Mrs. W. S. Lyster), Mr. Fred Lyster, and Mr. Henry Squires.

Before entering upon a history of the troupe's Australian career, I may be permitted to give a sketch of the enterprising gentleman who brought the singers to our shores, and who ended his days amongst us.

Mr. Lyster was born on March 21, 1828, at 116 Lower Baggot-street, Dublin, where his father, Chaworth Lyster, then resided. The father held a commission in the British Army, and had seen service during the Irish Rebellion in 1798. After his marriage he retired from the army, and became the agent of some extensive estates in Ireland, one of which belonged to William Saurin, then Attorney-General, after whom the future operatic manager was named. At the age of 13 years, William Lyster, recovering from a very serious illness, was sent on a voyage round the world in a sailing ship, and in that ship be visited Sydney and Melbourne in 1842. In 1847 he went out to the Cape of Good Hope, and served as a volunteer in the Kaffir war under Sir Harry Smith. A year afterwards he crossed over to the United States, and took to the stage. He had some qualifications for the profession, but it is said that his success, on the whole, was not encouraging, and in 1855, purely from a love of adventure, he joined a filibustering expedition against the peace of Nicaragua, organised by General Walker. Mr. Lyster, with the rank of captain, fought in three or four battles, and was then commissioned to the States to enlist recruits. During his absence Walker and his companions came to an untimely end, and the expedition collapsed.

In the year 1857 Mr. Lyster appears to have directed his energies into a more agreeable channel. He got together his first operatic company, consisting of the artists named above. The company did well in the Western States, and Mr. Lyster found himself able to spread himself towards Australia. On arrival in Melbourne he enriched his troupe by the engagement of the well-known and popular baritone, Mr. Farquharson, and Mr. J. E. Kitts. The company met with complete success, and Melbourne established itself as the headquarters of opera in Australia. The troupe kept together for six years, visiting the colonies in turn.

In New Zealand they had continuous employment for eight months.

From 1861 until 1880 Mr. Lyster was so intimately connected with opera that an account of his career will consist of little else than a chronicle of the several companies that apppeared under his auspices. No venture, however, exceeded the first in its results. From 1861 to 1868 novelty succeeded novelty until the public were made acquainted with the best operas extant. As an instance of his industry it maybe mentioned that 'Don Giovanni' was produced for the first time in Australia on September 23, 1861, and 'The Huguenots' (Farquharson as Marcel) on October 14, 1862. The latter opera ran for 22 nights. In 1860 the company was strengthened by the addition of Madame Simonsen, whose first great success came about in 'L'Africaine,' in conjunction with Armes Beaumont. The latter had joined the Lyster troupe some time previously in Sydney, but it was not — so the critics say — until he was entrusted with the part of Vasco-di-Gamma that he stepped into the front rank as a tenor singer.

After a long and successful stay in the Australian colonies, the company left for California in 1868, under Mr. W. S. Lyster's direction, sailing for San Francisco in the Alexander Duthie. In those days there was no Pacific mail service. The States projected tour proved a failure at the outset, and Mr. Lyster promptly returned to Australia, by way of New Zealand, in the barque Novelty. After the departure of Madame Escott and Mr. Squires, regular opera was absent from Melbourne for some time. Then a company which had arrived from South America appeared for a brief season, under the management of Mr. Lyster at the Haymarket Theatre, the principal singers being Vitali, Devoti, Bertolini and D'Antoni. Mr. Lyster then entered onto a sort of temporary partnership with Mr. John Smith, and went to England to engage another company. Under the joint management of Messrs. Lyster and Smith, Signora Baratti, Lucy Chambers, Signor Neri, and Signor Dondi appeared in Melbourne in 1870 the engagement lasting 12 months. Then came opera-bouffe in February 1871 a successful experiment, as comic opera had its share of public interest. Mr. Lyster's next venture was in conjunction with Cagli and Pompei in May, 1871, when a very strong body of singers was introduced: the Coys. Signora Zenoni, Signora Cortesi, and Signori Rosnati, Coliva and Dondi. The conductor was Mazzovati, and the troupe ran through a series of works of Italian composers at the Princess' Theatre. They then went to the Opera House, then known as the Prince of Wales Theatre. Then came Agatha States and her company, with Giorza as conductor, they performing for a limited period under Mr. Lyster at the Haymarket. For over ten years opera had been heard at each theatre at Melbourne, but it never could claim a settled home. The first performances in 1861 were given at the old Royal in Bourke-street ; some successful ones were given at the old Princess'. When the 'Varieties' was burned down, the Prince of Wales Opera House was built in Bourke-street East in 1873 by a company, of which Mr. W. S. Lyster was the managing director: and on the return of the Lyster-Cagli troupe from a tour in the neighboring colonies opera was given for the first time in the new theatre. A big triumph was achieved in the production of 'Moses in Egypt,' with Susini in the leading part. After this, English, French and Italian opera were played in turn, with Alice May Emilie Melville, and Clara Thompson shining in Offenbach and Le Cocq. The Palmeri Troupe appeared in 1874, but nothing remarkable was done in serious opera until 1877, when 'Lohengrin' was produced, with Madame Antoinetta Link and Signor Paladini in the leading parts. It had a long, though not remunerative, run. Ill health, in 1878, induced Mr. Lyster to visit England, and with him went his wife and Mr. Armes Beaumont.

While in England Mr. Lyster entered into an agreement with the London Comedy Company, and returned to Melbourne in 1879, not much better, however, for his trip. On his return there

had been short seasons with Madame Hersee, Mr. Verdi, and Madame Boema, interspersed with dramatic performances.

Many years before his death Mr. Lyster established himself on a farm at Dandenong, occupying his leisure time in breeding cattle and sending away produce to market. At this pleasant homestead Mr. Lyster frequency surrounded himself with genial friends, but in the last year or so of his life his health compelled him to reside near the city. He died, at the house of his friend, Mr. William Dean, at Hawthorne, on November 27, 1880, aged 52 years. His widow— nee Georgia Hodson— surviving him over 20 years.

When the Lyster Opera Troupe returned to San Francisco, in 1868, they did not go as they came; they left behind one of their number.

ROSALIE DURAND, wife of Mr. Fred Lyster. This lady was a native of the United States, of French descent, and made her first appearance at Baltimore in 1854. On the morning of December 8, 1868, Mr. Lyster, according to the newspapers of the day, left his lodgings in Macquarie-street North to attend a rehearsal at the Prince of Wales Opera House, Castlereagh-street, leaving his wife at home, apparently in the best of health and spirits. When Mr. Lyster returned to his lodgings, he found his wife lying dead upon the bed. Medical evidence proved that she had died of heart disease. The theatre was closed that night, and on the following day Sunday— her remains were interred in the R.C. Cemetery, Devonshire-street, and at the head of the grave was placed a very modest headstone, on which was a very

meagre description :-

I.H.S.

Sacred to the Memory of

ROSALIE DURAND LYSTER,

Who departed this life

8th December, 1868.

Aged 33 years.

While in Australia, Mr. Henry Squires had an experience of the fickleness of an Australian audience. After their first performance in Melbourne the troupe journeyed to Adelaide, where they had a full measure of success. Meanwhile some excitement was created in Melbourne. Mr. Squires was an excellent tenor, every Melbourne judge of music and voice conceded that. He was popular with those who did not understand music, but who were charmed with the beauty of his voice and his general bearing. The devoted Escott, too, had won her way into the affections of the playgoers. But Melbourne people had an idea that however excellent a vocalist, Mr. Squires was an injudicious letter writer, and his friend, the recipient of the letter, more injudicious than the writer, in publishing it. In the San Francisco 'Bulletin,' 11th June, 1861, appeared extracts from two letters written by Mr. Squires to a friend at the Golden Gate. These letters were dated March 11 and April 9, 1861. The first went thus: — "My Dear Friend, — We saluted the Antipodes on the 1st instant, after the delightful voyage of 52 days. We reached the trade winds eight days after sailing, when we had weeks of charming weather. For days and days the glorious Pacific was as quiet as a duck pond. I shall not attempt to give you scenes du voyage, as your knowledge of the world will enable you to picture for yourself the various characteristics eccentricities, etc., of a caged troupe of opera singers. Captain Hart and his agreeable half contributed largely to the pleasure of the voyage. The table was A.1. — fresh meats, vegetables, and fruits in abundance. The heat was severe in the tropics, but we managed to keep be low boiling heat under the h-awning.

"I like this shore. Melbourne is a fine city, but everything and everybody is 'blwasted English.' The streets are broad and clean, some of them as wide as Pennsylvania Avenue. The public buildings, churches and residences generally are built of beautiful stone, and present an elegant appearance. I could almost imagine myself dropped down in some provincial town in England; there are the same Saturday night markets in the streets, the same gin shops, bar

maids, hawkers, etc., and the same promiscuous use of the eighth letter of the alphabet.

“There are three theatres in operation here, besides the Cremorne Gardens, singing saloons, etc. Lyster has made arrangements for the troupe to open on Easter Monday, the 25th instant. 'Lucia di Lammermoor' has been selected for the opening, when your most obedient will make his bow as the unfortunate and broken-hearted Edgardo.

"We have a chorus of 17 men and 11 women, and a capital orchestra. The theatre is larger than the American in San Francisco. It is handsomely decorated, has a full depth of stage; is harmonic, but badly lighted.

“I can foresee that my absence from San Francisco will seem interminable. I could gladly return to-day, and the sentiments you expressed on board the Golden Age, upon your return to California, I can fully appreciate."

In the second letter Mr. Squires announced the debut of the troupe. "It was a great hit. Madame Escott and myself received a cordial welcome and call after the first act, second act, grand sestette encored, and call at the close. Abundance of applause in last act, and a jolly call at the close of the opera, which was 'Lucia,' as stated in my last."

They played 'Lucia' three nights. 'Maritana' followed and was a great triumph. ''There were seven encores during the performance. So you see the Melbourneites mean to have the worth of their money. It is a good public, and the applause, if vociferous, is discriminating." Lurline followed. Miss Hodgson made her first appearance in 'Maritana,' and Rosalie Durand made her debut in 'Fra Diavolo,' which had been deferred from the first week in consequence of her illness. She had a fine reception.

Respecting an Australian favorite, Mr. Squires wrote: — "I must not omit to mention Mr. Farquharson, our new basso and baritone. He has a magnificent voice, and is withal a gentleman. Unfortunately he goes to London in July to join the troupe at Her Majesty's Theatre. We have some hopes that he may join us, on our return, in California."

These letters were published in the Melbourne newspapers while the Lysters were in South Australia. Melbourne people were boiled with indignation at being dubbed "blawsted English," and Mr. Squires was promised a warm reception on his return. 'Martha' was the opera chosen, for the re-appearance of the troupe. I was present, and I do not remember the old bouse ever being so closely packed, even on G. V. Brooke's last night, which was, up to the 'Martha' night, the record. It was said that many came around with certain missiles in the shape of vegetables, etc.; but, to the credit of that great audience, they were not used. The opening scenes were listened to with impatience, and when Squires came on as Lionel, the house rose at him. Pit, stalls, upper circle and gallery hissed, hooted and groaned, while the dress circle took the singer's side; ladies waved their handkerchiefs, and gentlemen frantically clapped their kid-gloved hands. The uproar lasted for several minutes. In moments of cessation Mr. Squires would essay to speak, the attempt only causing the uproar to break out afresh. Squires stood his ground manfully, backed up by Farquharson, who stood by his side with his right hand on the left shoulder of the other during the turmoil. When the vocal exercise had tired the audience a little, Squires was heard to say that what he had written was really intended as a compliment. This appeared to be adding insult to injury, and the uproar broke out again. Mr. Farquharson was seen to whisper something to Squires, and instead of attempting another speech, the tenor, having given the "office" to the orchestra, commenced the 'Last Rose of Summer,' Squires, in splendid voice, sang in superb style. When he had finished the packed house rose to the occasion, and rewarded the now smiling singer with round after round of applause. He had made his peace, and had gone bravely through his "baptism of fire." Henry Squires was not again troubled about his "blawsted English."

Madame Escott and Mr. Squires were married, and settled down in some charming spot in Italy on ample means, gathered during a careful career, and were able to thoroughly enjoy the evening of life. Mrs. Squires died late in 1895. I believe Mr. Squires still lives, at least I have not heard of his death Mr. Fred Lyster is still in the land of the living, in California I think; while Armes Beaument is still heard of, occasionally, in Melbourne. Of these and others of the troupe more anon.

(To be continued.)