would before he slept. The most his friend could
do was to prevail upon him to allow the performance
to go on till its close. Just before the termination,
however, Loxley went out, and returned with a
warrant, and proper officers to execute it, and when the
curtain fell the posse rushed upon the stage, seized
Sanford, and before he had time to wash off the
burnt cork, had him properly handcuffed and secured.
Sanford did not show the least alarm, confident
that he could soon wash out the dark insinuation
that he was 'my Josh.' When Loxley called him
' Josh,' Sanford, for his own reason, always answered
' massa,' and in the peculiar way of doing which
made L. yet more sure that he had found his ' boy.'
After Sanford had asked permission to bring his
' other clothes' in a bundle, they went to the alderman's
office, where Mr. Charles Loxley made a
solemn oath that the man was his slave 'Josh.' He
knew him by his general appearance, and he knew
him by his voice. Upon such positive evidence, and
considering the respectable character of the claimant,
the alderman had but one course, and poor Sanford
was handed over to ' durance vile.'

"Of course, those acquainted with the renowned
performer richly enjoyed each turn the farce took,
and were on tiptoe awaiting the dénouement, and of
course they followed him as he demurely walked
handcuffed aside of his master, to the hotel. Arriving
there, Sanford said, ' Massa Charles, please let me
wash de dust out of my eyes, and take off dese good
close.' Loxley agreed to this, but would not permit
him to go out of his sight. Water was procured, and
Sanford had scarcely commenced his ablutions, ere
the bystanders raised such a shout of laughter at
Loxley's expense, as was never heard before in the
' Old Dominion.' Sanford was metamorphosed in
an instant. His colour, voice, gait, and demeanour,
were all changed in a twinkle, and from an old
greasy negro, he came out a finished gentleman, as
everybody knows him to be."

This may be a true story, or a puff for
Sanford, who is a celebrated " dialect
performer" in the Ethiopian manner, and is careful
in his discrimination of the blacks of different
states. His representation of a Kentucky slave
was thought such a refutation of Mrs. Beecher
Stowe, that the students of a Southern university
actually presented the actor with a valuable
service of silver, for "defending their institutions,
and showing the slaves in their proper
light"—meaning, good humoured, merry, and
contented.

But though actors in America have to play
before a stolid and preoccupied people, there is no
invidious contempt of the actor in America. His
becoming pride is never hurt. Vulgar parvenus do
not take their children away from school because
his are placed there. If he be a gentleman he is
treated as such, and the vulgar pride of new or
old riches does not fret him for a moment. The
Americans have, in fact, a firm belief that in any
profession a man may be a gentleman if he choose.

The great number of Irish in all American
cities ensures success to such stimulating Irish
pieces as the Colleen Bawn. Almost every
American city has its pseudo-Irish comedian,
and the Celtic part of the house roars and
thunders if he do but lift a finger. The Octaroon
(the heroine of the play) is, I should mention, a
poor girl, the eighth portion only of the blood
in whose veins is black. Even the Southern
slave-dealer feels some remorse about selling an
Octaroon; and just before the war broke out, a
play, turning on such a sale, moved every one to
anger or pity. This excitement took sometimes
strange forms. In a certain Northern city the
play was being acted, when a Southern slave-
dealer, who happened to be present, and who
had fallen asleep during the moment when the
feelings of the audience were appealed to,
happened to awake just as Zarah, or Zillah, or Zoe
(I forget which) was about to be sold.

"Four hundred dollars!" cried the sham
planter on the stage.

"Five hundred!" cried the real planter,
rising in his box, forgetful that it was only a
play.

"Four hundred!" cried the sham.

"Five hundred!" cried the real.—"Five
hundred and fifty!"

The audience was delighted. Then, rising as
one man, the house cried out with five hundred
tongues, " Five hundred dollars—let him have
her!"

Again, in another city, the day before the
first rehearsal, an abolitionist enthusiast came
to the manager and offered him a hundred
dollars if he would allow him to come on the stage at
the very climax of Zoe's misfortunes and dangers
and pronounce two lines of his own introduction.
The fanatic was a rich fanatic, and a
useful patron; so the manager, unwilling to
offend him, gave him no very clear answer, but
bowed him out of the sacred room as soon as
he politely could.

The next day the play began, and all went well
till the last scene of Zoe's peril. The audience
were hanging on every word. The free-slavery
men thanking Heaven that they had never seen
such cruelties, and the anti-slavery men rejoicing
that such horrors were unknown in the
South, when suddenly there was a bustle among
the actors—the cue was not given—the tragedian
who was just then speaking stopped. Through
the lane the frightened troupe made, rushed an
excited bald-headed man in evening dress; one
hand worked like a pump-handle, the other flung
circulars into the pit. In an instant he was
alone on the stage. The actors thought he
must be some madman broken loose. The
orchestra drew back and made as if to fly.

"Don't sell her," cried the odd man—it was
the abolitionist—"don't sell her; but send her
to Canada by the UNDERGROUND RAILWAY."

NEWS OF THE CENSUS.

This is the Census taken under the
superintendence of the Registrar-General. It bears
date the seventh of June, and was taken on the
eighth of April, in eleven tables founded on the
returns of the six hundred and thirty-one
superintendent registrars who revised the books of the
two thousand one hundred and ninety-seven
registrars, who digested the books and schedules
of the thirty-one thousand enumerators. For,
in the first place, this is the householder who filled