the most exquisite art, works them into harmony
with it, as illustrations of psychological motives
of which the original fabulist never dreamed.
In such manner, they are refined and elevated,
and rendered fit to become factors in a drama
designed to lay bare the bases of superstitious
belief; which they show both in principle and
in action. Shakespeare's sisters are as superior
to the witches in Holinshed, as Milton's
Satan is to the Lucifer of Dante, or the Fiend
of the miracle-play. Superior writers in all
literatures, whether Hebrew, Greek, Latin,
Italian, English, or German, deal with their
themes after the same fashion. They transmute
and convert them into higher and still
higher meanings, till they grow into symbols
and types. Faust is such a type; so is Don
Juan; so is Beatrice; so is Dido; so is Achilles;
and so is Adam. They have a strange vitality,
these types.

Actors and story-tellers are the preservers of
the traditions that grow into types, and creators
of the types themselves by the development that
they give to the traditions. Some thirty or forty
years ago, men in the Highlands used to
congregate and tell stories; and even lately they
spent whole winter nights about the fire
listening to old-world tales. In every cluster of
houses was some one man famed as "good at
sgialachdan," whose house was a winter evening's
resort. In such humble theatres, and in this
simple manner, the mysterious process went on.
It is now continued in a grander style at the
magnificent houses where Shakespeare is
occasionally acted, and the Christmas pantomime or
burlesque presents a new and enlarged edition
of some ancient legend, which, while retaining its
name, has changed both form and substance, without
apparently injuring its identity by the alterations
superinduced, some of them inevitable.

In various ways, the old spirit of popular
romance has survived, nor would a judicious
well-wisher of his race desire it to be exorcised
as an evil spirit, whatever bigoted persons may
do. Rather let us accept it as a good genius
to be conciliated and employed for good
purposes as one of the promoters of popular
education. "Surely," exclaims a lover of these
traditions, "stories in which a mother's blessing,
well earned, leads to success; in which the poor
rise to be princes, and the weak and courageous
overcome giants; in which wisdom excels brute
force—surely even such frivolities are better
pastime than a solitary whisky-bottle, or sleep,
or grim silence; for that seems the choice of
amusements if tales are forbidden, and Gaelic
books are not provided for men who know no
other language, and who, as men, must be
amused now and then."

Better? Ay, far better! Even when the
bottle is provided, amusement is expedient.
If the cigar and the glass had sufficed of
themselves, would speculators on the public purse
have added the Music Hall and the Saloon?
Music, ballet, and the acrobat have been needed
to encourage people to drink; and so many are
satisfied with the former without the latter, that
the average of drinking and smoking together,
even on an especial occasion with a crowded
audience, averages only sixpence a head. Such
is the account cheerfully rendered of the Alhambra,
even by the landlord himself, whom much
drinking would largely benefit. Besides, these
places have their history in the past, which they
show signs of repeating in the present. The
musical or dramatic entertainment gradually
supersedes the bibulous altogether. Thus at
the Grecian, once a saloon, and one of the
earliest places at which music and singing were
added as inducements, the theatre became a
greater attraction than the platform, though
dancing there was permitted as well as drinking.
In like manner, the proprietor of Highbury
Barn has found it his interest to provide a
theatre for his customers. The little playhouse
of Sadler's Wells, which has finally become so
famous as the home of legitimate drama, was
once a place of entertainment where gymnasts
performed their feats, professionals sang, and
entertainers performed, as well as the "thirsty
soul" received refreshment. The fine point of
the wedge was thus inserted, and in time the
entire wedge obtained a place. The finer
portions of such amusements gradually gain the
ascendancy, and the grosser disappear. The
Music Halls even now are undergoing a change.
It is reported that their popularity is on the
decline, and is likely to be more so, as, in order
to decrease their expenses, they have ceased
to give the higher class music, and have
reduced the entertainment to mere comic singing.
Many, therefore, propose to substitute drama,
or something analogous thereto, as likely
to be more attractive, or to command the
attendance of larger numbers. Meanwhile, at the
Agricultural Hall, Islington, tens of thousands
nightly are gathered to listen to instrumental
and other music, including songs. Its interior,
also, has been decorated and illuminated
in the most gorgeous manner, so as to entitle
it to be called what it is now named on the
bills, a "Fairy Palace." Nor should we be
surprised if, at no distant period, some astute
speculator should contrive some species of
dramatic entertainment which should bring the
million within the area of this immense building.
Such is the necessity, in this hard-working
world, for amusement, that places, like this
Hall, originally intended for purposes of utility,
in no long time get converted into palaces of
pleasure, in which the labouring classes of all
kinds may find recreation in the enjoyment of
some art-invention more or less perfectly
exhibited.

And as the past has realised itself in higher
types in the present, and the rude tradition
taken a beautiful shape in poetry, so have those
poetic forms found a still higher and more
startling exposition in actual society. Chaucer's
imagination created a crystal palace in one of
his poems, and the modern world has furnished
itself with more than one such palace far
exceeding his description or even conception.
Science has made a poetry of its own; it flies