On November 25th Mrs. Bates opened her second engagement at this theatre, supported by her husband (Frank), Miss Walters and the stock company. She played two weeks, repeating mostly her favorite roles, "Elizabeth," "Lucretia Borgia," "Camille," etc. Mrs. Bates during the time her husband, Frank, had been playing with the stock company, had played an engagement with John Piper, the Virginia City manager. Returning here she sent ahead of her to exploit her return engagement Mr. John Maguire, who has since made a name as a theatrical manager, but who was then a very enthusiastic disciple of Thespis, and was ambitious to make a mark in the histrionic art. Maguire by his own confession had been educated for the Catholic priesthood, and certainly a good priest was spoiled when John turned Thespian, but the stage fever caught him, and struck in so deep that he was irrevocably lost to a profession which he was capable of adorning, and exposed "to the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune" that are generally in quiver to be hurled at the unfortunate actor or manager who does not achieve an unqualified success. At the time of which I write, 1872, John Maguire was young (about 30, eh, John?), and handsome; he was often mistaken for Lawrence Barrett, the tragedian, which was a flattering compliment to John, as he was a very great admirer of "Larry" Barrett. We don't know just how it came about, but he was cast in Mrs. Bates' opening performance of "Elizabeth" for the part of the young Scottish king, James VI, unless it was that he had played it in Virginia City with the lady, and she thought he looked the part so well. Any way the company was numerous and the managers let John out after his performance of King James. The week following the Bates engagement, there being no star attraction booked, the managers gave it to the writer, who had not been playing in the stock company that season. I arranged a repertoire for the week which included "The Duke's Motto," "Macbeth," "Louis XI," "The Stranger," "Jack Cade," and "The Three Guardsmen." A very ambitious attempt, as I view it now, but all parts that I was "up" in, having played them in the company before. While rehearsing before I opened, Maguire, who was out of a job and evidently out of money, come to me and in a very friendly and confidential way informed me that he had just received the bells. "The bells?" I inquired, "what bells?" "Why Henry Irving's Bells, that has just completed a year's run in London." "Take my advice, John," said he, "take down some of those 'old' chestnuts you have billed and put on 'The Bells' for two nights in their place and you'll be money in by it." "Oh, that's impossible," I objected, "my plans for the week are arranged and cast, besides I know nothing about the play of The Bells.'" Maguire was earnest, however, for he had a point to make, so he urged me to make a change. "I have two printed copies of the play,"