become old they are amazed at the impertinence of new comers who expect them to surrender the juvenile characters. The latest successful _débutante_, Mdlle. Rousseil and M. Mounae Sully, are where they now are in spite of their fellows who were there before them. _SOME ECCENTRICITIES OF THE FRENCH STAGE._ The future historian of the French Stage will not want for matter to add to a history which has already had many illustrators and writers. Just a year ago, I saw a magnificent funeral pass from the church of Notre Dame de Lorette. ‘_C’est Lafont, le grand Comédien!_’ was the comment of the spectators. ‘Poor Glatigny!’ said another, ‘was not thus buried--like a prince!’ Wondering who Glatigny might be, I, in the course of that day, took up a French paper in the reading-room of the Grand Hôtel, in which the name caught my eye, and I found that Glatigny had been one of the eccentric actors of the French stage. He was clever, but reckless; he had a bad memory, but when it was in fault, he could _improvise_--with impudence, but effect. Glatigny once manifested his improvising powers in a very extraordinary manner. The story, on the authority of the Paris papers, runs thus: Passing in front of the Mont-Parnasse Theatre, he saw the name of his friend Chevilly in the play-bill. Glatigny entered by the stage-door, and asked to see him. He was told that Chevilly was on the stage, and could not be spoken to; he was acting in Ponsard’s ‘Charlotte Corday.’ Glatigny, thereupon, and to the indignant astonishment of the manager, coolly walked forward to the side of Chevilly, as the latter was repeating the famous lines-- Non, je ne crois pas, moi, Que tout soit terminé quand on n’a plus de roi; C’est le commencement. As Chevilly concluded these words, he stared in inexpressible surprise at Glatigny, and exclaiming: ‘What, you here!’ shook him cordially by the hand, as if both were in a private room, and not in the presence of a very much perplexed audience. The audience did not get out of their perplexity by finding that Ponsard’s play was altogether forgotten, and that the two players began talking of their private affairs, walking up and down the stage the while, as if they had been on the boulevards or in the gardens of the Tuileries. At length, said Glatigny, ‘I am afraid, that I perhaps intrude?’ ‘Not at all!’ said Chevilly. ‘I am sure I do,’ rejoined Glatigny, ‘so farewell. When you have finished, you will find me at the café, next door.’ The eccentric player had reached the wing, when he returned, saying: ‘By-the-by, before we part, shall we sing together a little _couplet de facture_?’ ‘With all my heart,’ was the reply; and both of them, standing before the foot-lights, sang a verse from some old vaudeville, on the pleasure of old friends meeting unexpectedly, and which used to bring the curtain down with applause.