Belasco’s random recollections of the actors with whom he was brought in contact while in California and other parts of the West are those of a youthful enthusiast, generally injudicious, frequently incorrect, sometimes informative, always indicative of amiability. Julia Dean, who held little David in her arms when he was a child, and with whom he appeared in boyhood, remains to this day an object of his homage. She was one of the best actresses of her time. I saw her first at the Boston Museum, in 1854, as Julia, in “The Hunchback,” later in other characters, and was charmed by her exquisite beauty and her winning personality. I saw her for the last time, in New York, in July, 1867, at the Broadway Theatre (the house which had been Wallack’s Lyceum), where she was playing,—with peculiar skill and fine effect,—Laura Fairlie and Anne Catherick, in “The Woman in White.” She was a scion of a theatrical family. Her maternal grandfather, Samuel Drake (1772-1847), an English actor, was highly esteemed on our Stage a hundred years ago. Her mother, Julia Drake (first Mrs. Thomas Fosdick, later Mrs. Edmund Dean), was a favorite in the theatres of the West and was accounted exceptionally brilliant. Julia Dean went on the stage (1845) at Louisville, Kentucky, made her first appearance in New York in 1846, at the old Bowery Theatre, and continued in practice of her art till the end of her life. She was lovely in person and not less lovely in character. Her figure was tall and slender, her complexion fair, her hair chestnut-brown, her voice sweet, her movement graceful, and she had sparkling hazel eyes. The existing portraits of her give no adequate reflection of her beauty. In acting, her intelligence was faultless, her demeanor natural, her feeling intense. Her every action seemed spontaneous. Her imagination was quick, she possessed power and authority, and she could thrill her audience with fine bursts of passion,—as notably she did in the Fifth Act of “The Hunchback”; but, as I recall her, she enticed chiefly by her intrinsic loveliness. Her performance of Knowles’s Julia was perfection. She played many exacting parts,—such as Bianca, in “Fazio”; Mrs. Haller, in “The Stranger”; Margaret Elmore, in “Love’s Sacrifice”; Griseldis, and Adrienne Lecouvreur. She was the primary Norma, in Epes Sargent’s “Priestess,” which was first acted in Boston, and she was the primary Leonor, in George Henry Boker’s tragedy of “Leonor de Guzman,” first produced at the original Broadway Theatre, New York, April 25, 1854. Whatever she did was earnestly done. Her soul was in her art, and she never permitted anything to degrade it. A marriage contracted (1855) with Dr. Arthur Hayne,—son of Robert Young Hayne, United States Senator from South Carolina, whose semi-seditious advocacy of “State Rights” prompted Daniel Webster’s great oration in the Senate (1830),—resulted unhappily, somewhat embittering her mind and impairing the bloom of her artistic style. She obtained a divorce and (1866) became the wife of James Cooper. She died suddenly, in childbirth, March 6, 1868. At her funeral, two days later, at Christ Church, Fifth Avenue and Thirty-first Street, New York, the service was performed by Rev. Ferdinand Cartwright Ewer (1826-1883), a noted Episcopalian ritualist, who in early life had been a dramatic critic,—one of competent intelligence, good judgment, and considerate candor,—associated with the newspaper press of San Francisco, had known her in the season of her California triumphs, and well knew her worth both as actress and woman.