his hatred? The revenge of a BORGIA was not more terrible or cruel than
that of this architect. He has put the orchestra so far below the stage
that no part of the latter is visible to the poor musicians.

Fearful that some unusually tall one should catch an occasional glimpse
of the apex of some equally tall performer, he has made the front of the
stage project, like an overhanging Table Rock, above the devoted
orchestral heads. And there we sit, like a row of human Stoughton
bottles, having eyes, yet seeing not the plays that we hear enacted. I
am disgusted. I am mad about it. It is a way of "coming it over us,"
that is contemptible.

What I want to know is, how can I derive any satisfaction from HAMLET'S
death when I don't see him die? How can I sit quietly there and see the
audience go into convulsions over Major WELLINGTON DE BOOTS, when I can
by no possibility see the point of the joke?

Alas! There are no convulsions for me! Every night for two weeks has the
Huguenot slain the hectoring HECTOR, and I remain in blissful (no, not
blissful) ignorance of the manner of his taking off. It has gone far
past endurance, and I humbly trust that the public, or Mr. BERGH, or
somebody imbued with philanthropic feelings, will do something for that
suffering body--BOOTH'S orchestra.

A SUFFERER.

* * * * *

People are dying of cholera in New York at the rate of 353 a day. Six
emigrant ships arrived this morning, having on board 374 cases of