Most of our readers are probably aware that "Uncle Tom's Cabin" has been dramatised—in which form it has proved nearly as popular as the original work. At the Boston Museum it was performed for fully two months continuously, to crowded houses, seven times a week. It has also been produced at several theatres in Paris, London, Glasgow, New York, &c., with uniform success; that is, it has proved alike attractive to the public and profitable to the managers.—Some of these versions contained a few objectionable features; but on the whole, they did not mince matters; their spirit was abolitionary; true to human nature; hence their attraction.

  You may be sure that certain folks in our great eastern cities felt the castigation a little. They were maddened to think that "so trumpery a book" should have so many spectators of its heart-thrilling incidents on the stage. Half a dozen tried their hands at rival books, to the benefit of trunk-makers and tobacconists; and now, undeterred by their fate, the playwrights are trying their luck at a counterblast. In Boston, they got up the "White Slave of England," regardless of expense, as managers say; heralded it for weeks before, with enormous placards, appealing to the prejudices of negro-haters; the author bade them "hurl defiance at black obloquy;" and in answer to these deep-drawn summonses, the curtain of the Howard Athenaeum nightly rose to an audience of from 60 to 80 persons, and a ghastly row of empty benches. After thus dragging out five miserable performances, the "White Slave of England" was emancipated. I did not see the play; but it certainly must have been far below par, when such Hunker prints as the Boston Times and Gazette cut it up. "So much for Buckingham." The stage has some life in it yet; and country managers who wish to avoid empty seats would do well to note these facts.

N. N.