A New York correspondent writes as follows about a pretty little actress and singer, who while fulfilling an engagement at the Bijou Opera House, New York, last summer, broke the hearts of all the "swells" and "bloods" of the metropolis, and had the house filled nightly with rival admirers, among whom was the melancholy son of a Washington, D. C., judge: "Miss Lillian Russell is a beauty without a shadow of doubt. She is about twenty-six, I believe. It is by no means generally known that she is married, and that her husband is an honest, hard-working, and thorough orchestra leader, to whom she owes her present proficiency in vocal culture. He was very fond of her, and always believed in her success. No man could have worked more faithfully. Finally he found an opening for her on the variety stage as a serio-comic--as the phrase goes--singer. She attracted attention at once, and he labored vigilantly until he found a legitimate opening in English comic opera. I believe it was 'The Snake Charmer.' She was very glad to get out of the variety rut so soon, and expressed delight at the admiration she excited. Then came the club-men with their swell slang, gaudy carts and flowing money. Now she is suing her husband for divorce. Such is life. The husband, I hear, harassed by care, and perhaps something else, had become so nervous or inattentive that he lost his position in the orchestra, and so the shades of prosperity and adversity are more clearly defined than ever. Miss Russell seems to have been under the especial care of a theatrical goddess of sensationalism. Everything has conspired to make her name familiar. Her escapade with one of the young men was inevitable. The only question was which one she would select. It happened to be Howard Osborne, the son of the wealthy banker. One night when it was time for the curtain to rise, and the audience was getting into a white heat, the manager came forward displaying a decided desire to swear like a pirate, and announced that Miss Russell had suddenly and unwarrantedly run away. The next morning Mr. Osborne, Sr., wondered where in thunder his son was. He received a letter later, and immediately fell into a howling rage. Shortly afterwards Mr. Howard Osborne was heard of in Chicago, whence it was blandly stated Miss R. had gone to visit an aunt. The young man was sent spinning over the sea to Europe, and the steamer had just arrived when his fond parent had the exquisite pleasure of reading at breakfast a cable in the morning papers relating a little excursion of a certain Mr. Howard Osborne, Esq., said to be of New York, with Miss Alice Burville, the burlesque actress, at the Ascot races. Heigho! 'Which the ways of the world is peculiar, Mrs. 'Arris, sez I.'"