Sacramento daily record-union. [volume] (Sacramento [Calif.]) 1875-1891, 1880-11-27

you believe in your inmost soul that Jesus,
| born of woman, is the son of God? S. X.
Noble, stand and tell iust how sure you
are That every word OF the Bible IS true.
John Reid, OF Victoria, and you, Mr.. Har-
ford, and yen, Edward F. Walker, and
| you, the Rev. Mr.. Gibson, and you, sir,
and you, and you. and the tall one over
| yonder; gentlemen, as you stand IN the
presence OF your God, tell me, ] beseech
of you, do you firmly believe there is
God, Christ, heaven, a future at all,
and now can woman believe when she
would, and can't?' Then Mr.. Sankey
sang, ana it was hymn. singing, indeed.
| Over all the vast congregation hush,
| impressive in itself, descended, and we
all seemed to soar with the lifted
voice. Some say these men are to
stay here all winter. and perhaps if they
do may find myself out OF doubt. In the
meantime | see with worldly eyes, and Mr..
Moody seems not very eloquent, not so
very ma gnetic, but given 10 bad grammar
and anecdotes. His eo.laborer, Mr.. Saukey,
! looks clean and sleek, and carries about
him cultivated air. They have both my
| best wishes and my cooperation as far as
the latter lies in me. s minister said day
or two ago. son! you church members
WORLD or REBUKH
aud horror in his Tone To me the evening
at the theater is like the intense, vivid,
earnest, absorbed reading of a book, in
which the mind is so lost that the charac-
ters live, breathe and speak as real men
and women, with iinpassioned v,ioei
with word-like gesture, with chang
| ing countenauce and quivering lips.
! Sometimes when | read ut home
| the people seem TO step from between
book-eovers, and perform for me scene
! from the romance OF history, or the men,
women and children who live III the pages
OF story and novel coujure themselves IN
the freight, and with rapt ear, | hear
their dialogue, and with vide eyes see. l
have lately been absorbed III beck which,
for the sake Of my girl friends who don't
know what Co read, | name-it IS q" st.
George and st. Michael. written by George
Macdonald. There is just come among us
d man OF modesty, and an actor of great
ability. He is one W. H. Sheridan, who
came without blare of trumpet, foot of
horn or twang of his own tiddle-string. He
was content fairly to essay a trial aud stand
or fall by it, | think very few of those
regular = frst-nighters had an idea they
should do more tdsn yawn through the
evening and CLEAN enough for critique,
but from the moment Louis XII, whose
life was one sparl OF wolf, came
on the stage the audience frightened. |
think the most of us had been looking till
| that moment at wonderful hat which
meet, always the same wearer, everywhere
the last fortnight. 1t is seal-brown in
color, scoop shape, and of an enormous
biguess. It has tremendous satin bow on
the left side, and all over it feathers daugle
and bow. By peering througl, tunnel of
seal brown beaver rim you discover a lit
tie bit of white face and pair Of eyes.
Nothing short of Louis XI. could have
called us from that hat l am sure love
a man that
FILLS THE STAGE.
| Whoever saw other players than Booth
when the blue fire of his eyes lit up every
vision? The rest seemed to circle about
him, to come as he willed and 60 as be
babe, and he was the play. We hung
upon his glance, his voice, the flash of his
finger, and what a wonder it was. Keen
edged rs a knife to be so rapt. And when
Barry Sullivan was Richard Ill did any
one ever care whether there were Rich
mond or no? This man Sheridan almost
absorbs his listener thus, and comes within
one shade Of excellence OF having the stage
to himself. l gloried in him for his mod
esty and his ambition, while | trembled
with excitement at the power OF bis per-
sona.ion. [ imagine it Is well worth the
discomfort of beng a thorough musical
critic TO be able fully 10 appreciate an ex-
quisise harmony, and one can afford TO be
worn and weary Of poor play just to feel
the sweet throb and thrill which 3 king
among actors excites, though it runs
through the veins but once a year. In
his scene with the assassin who was
hid among the bed curtains, Sheridan
was great actor. He shook as
if with natural fear, his gasp was
such as l have heard the dying give, his
voice was changed as he begged for mercy,
as distress will change a voice. His death
scene was marvel He dropped into a
moment of slumber, as l have seen people
sleep out of sheer weakness his face
seemed to turn hvid before my eyes, and
when he died his eyes were
STARING WIDE,
And horrible look of death wavered
about bis face, and finally settled upon it,
fixed, cold and CHASTITY Women forgot
themselves and applauded in wonder, and
when you see women all over the house ap-
plauding be sure something unusual is
| happening. Trey don't do it often. Surely
theatrical revival IS upon us. We flock
to the legitimate and to the blood and
thunder, where We have given the cold
shoulder to the spiced dialogue, the sug-
gestive situations ard the magnificent tot
lets, which were the strong cards OF the
society drama. 1t must be something be-
side our own tender morals which has
| given us the impulse toward something
better, and why not lay the credit where it
| belongs, and acknowledge 1t is Mr.. Sheri-
dan who compels and not we ourselves
who are virtuous enough TO bid Mfr. Sheri.
dan among us KATE HEATH.