afterward presented him with the gift--somewhat unpoetic, it must be
admitted--of a bottle of priceless Kentucky whisky, of a fabulous age!

If Mary Anderson was a favorite with the public before the curtain, she
was no less popular with her fellow artists on the stage. Jealousy and
ill-will not seldom reign among the surroundings of a star. It is a trial
to human nature to be but a lesser light revolving round some brilliant
luminary--but the setting to adorn the jewel. But Mary Anderson won the
hearts of every one on the boards, from actors to scene-shifters. And at
Christmas, in which she is a great believer, every one, high or low,
connected with the Lyceum, was presented with some kind and thoughtful
mark of her remembrance. And when the season closed, she was presented in
turn, on the stage, with a beautiful diamond suit, the gift of the fellow
artists who had shared for so long her triumphs and her toils.

Mary Anderson's success in London was fully indorsed by the verdict of the
great provincial towns. Everywhere she was received with enthusiasm, and
hundreds were nightly turned from the doors of the theaters where she
appeared. In Edinburgh she played to a house of £450, a larger sum than
was ever taken at the doors of the Lyceum. The receipts of the week in
Manchester were larger than those of any preceding week in the theatrical
history of the great Northern town. Taken as a whole, her success has been
without a parallel on the English stage. If she has not altogether escaped
hostile criticism in the press, she has won the sympathies of the public
in a way which no artist of other than English birth has succeeded in
doing before her. They have come and gone, dazzled us for a time, but have
left behind them no endearing remembrance. Mary Anderson has found her way
to our hearts. It seems almost impossible that she can ever leave us to
resume again the old life of a wandering star across the great American
continent. It may be rash to venture a prophecy as to what the future may