The Conservatoire, their great school for actors, is, like almost everything else in Paris, more or less under Government control,--the Minister of State being charged with its superintendence. He appoints the professors, who are actors of the Francais, and receive a salary of two thousand francs. The first order a pupil receives, on presenting himself for instruction, is this: "Say _rose_." Now your Parisian rather prides himself on a peculiar pronunciation of the letter _r_. He neither rolls it like an Italian, nor does he make anything like the noise standing for _r_ in our conversational English,--something like _uhr-ose_,--a sound said to be peculiar to our language. A Parisian rolls his r, by making his _uvula_ vibrate, keeping the tongue quite still: producing a peculiar gurgling sound. This is an abomination in the ears of the Conservatoire. "Ne _grasseyez_ donc pas, Monsieur," or "Mademoiselle," says the professor, fiercely,--this peculiar way of saying _r_ being called _grasseyement_. The pupil tries again, using the tip of his tongue this time. "Ah! I thought so. Your _r_ is pasty (_empate_). Say _tuddah!_" (I spell this sound _a l'Anglaise_.) "_Tuddah_" repeats the wondering candidate. "_Thuddah?_" the professor repeats, with great disgust: "I did not ask you to say _thuddah_, but _tuddah_." The victim tries again and again, and thinks he succeeds; but the master does not agree with him. His delicate ear detects a certain thickness of enunciation,--which our _th_ very imperfectly represents,--a want of crispness, as it were. The tip of the tongue does not strike the front teeth with a single _tick_, as sharp as a needle-point; and until he can do this, the pupil can do nothing. He is dismissed with the advice to say "_tuddah, tuddah, tuddah_," as many hours a day as he can without losing his mind. D---- told me he often met young men walking about the streets in all the agonies of this first step in the art of learning to act, and astonishing the passers-by with this mysterious jargon. A pupil of average quickness and nicety of ear learns to say tuddah in about a month. Then he is told to say _rose_ once more. The training his tongue has received enables him to use only its very tip. A great point is gained: he can pronounce the _r_. Any other defects in pronunciation which he has are next attacked and corrected. Then he is drilled in moving, standing, and carriage. And finally, "a quantity of practice truly prodigious" is given to the _ancien repertoire,_--the classic models of French dramatic literature, Corneille, Racine, Moliere, Beaumarchais, etc. The first scholar of each year has the right to appear at once at the Theatre Francais,--a right rarely claimed, as most young actors prefer to go through a novitiate elsewhere to braving the most critical audience in the world before they have acquired the confidence that comes only with habit and success. After he has gained a foothold at this classic theatre, an actor still