his managerial dignity, so conglomerated our actor's The audience roared, and Kean, lying on the stage as the dead tyrant, muttered an emphatic oath, which drew the attention of the front rows of the pit. Elliston was told of his error. Upon the repetition of the piece, Wilmot, the prompter, cautioned him before he went on, and repeated the words of the line to him that he might impress them upon his memory: "Not slain, sir, but living,-young Stanley was not killed." ." "No, no,-I know, sir,I know," said Elliston; "d'ye think I am drunk, or a fool ?" On he went, and inquired of the elder Stanley if his son was-missing! and Powell answered, with painful correctness: So firmly was this impression of royalty fixed in the mind of this eccentric man, or so agreeable was the assumption to his usual pomposity, that it would frequently appear, even in matters of business,— He is, my liege, and safe in Leicester town. and in the early part of the day, too, when charity would lead us to suppose that the spiritual move- When the queen of ballad singers, Mrs. Bland, was ment could scarcely have commenced. A boy was unable to pursue her professional exertions, Ellissent to him with a note from a friend, requesting a ton gave her a benefit at Drury Lane, and all the free admission for the evening. He waved his hand talent in the metropolis volunteered assistance to and said, in a dignified voice, "Child, quit the help an old favorite. Mathews sang a couple of council chamber; we cannot now receive petitions." songs. Through some fault in the arrangements, This regal display procured him the title of King all the rest of the intermediate amusements were Robert William, and even his friends nick-named over before Mathews' first song came on. He sang him His Majesty. A curious remark by old Spring, it, and was encored. "Now what next?" said the box-book keeper, added to the jeer. At this time Mathews. the rivalry between the two large houses was carried to extremes. An habitual frequenter met Spring in the lobby of Drury one evening, and accosted him with, "Well, Spring, what sort of a house have you to-night?-pretty full, eh ?" "Middling, my dear, sir, middling; that is, not very good; but we don't grumble; indeed we have no right to grumble. God is very good to us, for they have a miserable house at Covent Garden." The wags said, with more wit than reverence, that Drury was managed by a monarch, and patronized by Providence. Richard the Third was reproduced under Elliston's management, with a revision of text, and a total alteration in the usual style of dress. Soane produced his authorities, and Kean jumped about in an iron skull-cap and a "close-bodied gown, the sleeves curiously cut," looking more like a Tartar amazon than the Richard of our idea. Elliston appeared as Richmond in a new suit of shining armor, and strutted about the stage, grasping a terrific pole-axe and a bright shield,-- very much to his own delight, Kean's annoyance, and the amusement of the audience. In the last scene, when Harry Tudor inquires of his friend, Lord Stanley, after his son, the safety of whose head had been threatened by the tyrant, Elliston should have said: Pray tell me, is young George Stanley living? To which the grateful parent replies: . Ile is, my liege, and safe in Leicester town. Mr. Powel, a respectable veteran, played Lord Stanley. He was the usual representative of grayheaded pappies, quiet old guardians, and fifth act uncles. He was always scrupulously perfect, but could no more go out of his way, even to the alteration of a syllable, than he could have walked up a rope stretched from the stage to the gallery, in the style of that god of grace and agility, Herr Cline. Elliston, instead of asking Powell if young Stanley was living, said Is young George Stanley slain? To which Powell replied, with his usual accuracy: "Why, my dear boy," replied Elliston, "my stupid blundering prompter has made a little mistake,-a small error. We have nothing now but your other song and the farce.” "D- it, sir," said Mathews, who was always irritable in business, "I can't and won't sing two comic songs close together. There must be something between them to relieve the thing. Nobody serves up two courses at dinner, exactly alike, one after the other; besides, I want to change my dress." "Never mind dressing, my dear boy; the same dress will do for both." "What do you mean, Mr. Elliston, by 'Never mind dressing?' Sir, I always mind dressing. When you give a dinner, and send down the venison and the salmon to the cook, do you say 'Never mind the dressing,' or do you tell her that the same dressing will do for both. This stupid business is done on purpose to tease me. Hop on and sing a long song, and then hop off. Encored, and hop on, and sing it again. Hop off, out of wind, fagged to death, and then you want me to hop on again, and sing another d- -d long song." "But on a night like this-charity "Curse charity! Charity begins at home. I said I'd sing, and I will; but you don't want me to be all night singing, and hopping, and screeching, like a lame parrot. It's done on purpose. I did say I'd never enter your plaguy patent theatres again." "Well, what time do you want?" "Ten minutes to change my dress." "You shall have it." "But how?-the curtain has been down five minutes now; can't keep them waiting a quarter of an hour, and nothing doing. They'll pull up the benches,-pelt me,-knock my eye out,-serve me right,had no business to come.' "Well, well, Mr. Mathews, go and dress; I'll keep them in a good humor for you; I'll make a speech!" Mathews went to his dressing room, and Elliston took out his watch. He suffered three minutes more to elapse, then, with his watch concealed in the palm of one hand, and his white handkerchief in the other, he gravely threw open the stage door, | their satisfaction; were his generous patrons but and walked slowly to the centre of the stage. A round of applause, three dignified bows, and a short pause. In his usual grandiloquent style, he thanked them for their presence on that evening, in the name of their old favorite, Mrs. Bland, who was desirous of evincing her gratitude for their heart-cheering generosity. He glanced at his watch, and to the wing; but as Mathews was not there, he felt bound to proceed. He spoke of the uncertain tenure of an actor's prosperity,-many chances of dreadful vicissitudes,-no resource when faculties fail. Another glance at watch and wing. He adverted to the extra talent he had the honor of offering to their notice that evening,-instanced Mathews, who was the first on such occasions to evince a promptitude truly praiseworthy. ("Curse him, he's not ready yet!") He then congratulated the audience upon seeing this popular comedian once more on the boards of a theatre royal; hoped the arrangements of the evening were entirely to pleased, he cared not what time he spent in the Poor Dowton, whose duty it was to look as dignified and intrenchant as a ghost, smarting under the pain, could scarcely refrain the expression of it by a positive screech, whilst he curveted with his heels, like a horse in Duncan's arena. Choking with rage, he was at length wholly let down, and being now completely out of sight of the audience, he looked earnestly round to discover the base perpetrators of the violence. Elliston and his companion had of course absconded-it was to decamp with each of them; but at this moment Charles Holland, dressed to the very finish of fashion, worthy of Cibber himself, was crossing from one of the rooms. The enraged actor, mistaking his man, and believing, by Holland's imperturbability of manner, he was in fact the real offender, seized a mop at that moment immersed in most unseemly water, and thrusting it in his face, utterly destroyed wig, ruffles, point lace, and every particular of his elaborate attire. In vain Holland protested his innocence, and implored for mercy- his cries only whetted the appetite of the other's revenge, and again and again the saturated mop was at work on his finery. Somewhat appeased at last, Dowton quitted his victim; but in the mean time, the prompter's bell had announced the commencement of the piece in which Holland was to have appeared. What was to be done? The drama was proceeding -Holland already called to the stage! All was confusion thrice confounded. An apology for "the sudden indisposition of Mr. Holland" was made, and the public informed that De Camp had "kindly undertaken to go.on for the part!" In the vicinity of the Abbey Church, Bath, resided a Mr. Sims, an opulent woollen-draper-a man of strict probity in all transactions of life-whose active benevolence and unassailable good humor, had acquired to him the esteem of a wide circle of acquaintances. This personage was a bachelor, and at this time about sixty-five years of age. His figure was tall, his step airy, his deportment the flower of politeness, and in disputes he was the very Atticus of parties. His dress was usually a suit of gray; and his hair, of which there was a profusion, being perfectly white, whereunto a queue appended, gave him somewhat of a Sir Joshua contour; though perhaps he bore a nearer resemblance to the more modern portrait of that precise merchant, as personated by the late Mr. Terry, in Poole's admirable little comedy of "Simpson and Co." While he paid a marked deference to all men's opinions, he had a mistrust of his own, which was singularly curious. On a sudden torrent, for instance, which some people would denominate "cats and dogs," he would merely apprehend that it rained; and if the house were as suddenly enveloped in flame, he would suggest the expediency of quitting the tenement. His respect for the other sex was so profound, as to keep in awful subjection every gentler impulse of the bosom-for he was far from a woman-hater; on the contrary, he could not honor them too highly; but it was all honor. His "menage" consisted of a duplicate female attendant, that is, two separate beings, but with brains under the same meridian, whose autumnal time of life, and counterpart in attire, rendered them perfectly homogeneous.. The great characteristic of Mr. Sims was a painful precision in all things. His hat always occupied the left peg in respect of his coat. His parlor fur niture was cased in cotton covers, which covers were again involuted by divers sheets of brown paper, resembling the pendant patterns in a tailor's shop. Every thing, according to him, was "to wear even;" if he pulled this bell-rope on the first occasion, he would bear in mind to handle that on the second; every chair, tea-cup, and silver spoon, had its day of labor and relaxation; and had he discovered that, by misadventure, he had worn a pair of shoes or gray stockings out of turn, he would positively have lost his stomach. In his dressing-room, he was constantly attended by his two waiting-women; not that he actually required the services of both, but by such means the reputation of each was kept in a state of preservation; and, to conclude, whenever he retired to bed, he invariably crept up the foot of it, that his linen might be without a wrinkle. It may not at once appear, how any sympathies could have existed between a Milesian like Elliston and such a character as this; but Mr. Sims was by no means an ascetic: he was never as wise as Ximenes, and not always as moderate as Fleury; and in respect of his little indulgences, like the country wench, he looked very much as though he had rather sin again than repent. And why not? an extra glass of punch, or a visit prolonged to midnight, constituted his excess; though once, indeed, he had been known to have so far mystified himself, as to toast a certain female of no extraordinary virtue, in a tumbler of toddy. He, however, confessed he went for three days unshaved, from the above event, as he had not the assurance to look on himself in the glass, after so peccant an action. Mr. Sims was fond of a play, and had some taste for the drama. He had seen the best actors of Garrick's day, and could talk critically on the gcnius of "rare Ben Jonson." Mr. Sims, therefore, became, with other Bath people, known to the Elliston family. Mrs. Elliston being absent for a few days on a visit to Mrs. Collins, Elliston was consequently left at Bath, en garçon. On one of his widowed afternoons, his knocker announced some visitor, and Mr. Sims himself deferentially entered. "My dear Mr. Elliston," cried he, as he advanced, with a step lighter than a roebuck, "have I indeed caught you?-this is charming!—and how well you look! Listen: I promised your excellent wife to have an eye on you during her absence, and so I will, for you positively must-must, I say, dine with me to-day." "Dine with you, Mr. Sims ?" exclaimed Elliston, in a tone which must have been truly comic. "My good Mr. Sims Nay, nay-I shall be downright riotous if I hear any excuses. I absolutely must-must have you. In fact," continued he, making a leg, as he advanced, and tapping the tip of his left fore-finger with the corresponding extremity of the right, "my dinner is already ordered-within one hour will be served-see, with what little ceremony I treat you." There was something irresistibly grotesque even in the proposition; for though Mr. Sims was by no means a stranger in the house, yet the very suggestion of a tête-à-tête repast with the precise woollendraper, appeared one of those things which, although clearly possible, had still never yet been known to have transpired. As for instance, A man shall not marry his grandmother. 'Thursday, I would suggest," interposed Sims, most apologetically. "Just so; and here comes my friend Quick, who reminds me of his promised visit. Dinner on table punctually at five-” continued Elliston, addressing himself to Quick, just as he entered-"not a minute later;" which was of course the first notice the other had had at all of the matter, while Elliston himself was quite aware he had not a solitary cutlet in the house. "But-but-" interrupted Sims, with his fingers as before-"my humble fare is preparing-is nearly ready And will be excellent when eaten cold tomorrow," rejoined Elliston; "but to-day-to-day, Sims, you are my guest!" The draper having recovered from the shock which these words occasioned, was evidently as pleased as Punch at the proposition, though he looked on the affair as one of the maddest pranks ever yet attempted-quite a Camelford exploit of that day, or Waterford of the present; the challenge, however, be accepted, but to no one's surprise more than his own. "I will at least apprise my domestics," said Sims, catching up his hat and cane, with the intention of tripping off to his own abode; but Elliston, grasp ing his arm with considerable melodramatic effect, said, "Not so, friend Sims; this is a point easier settled; and our time is short. Take your own card, neighbor, and just inscribe in pencil, 'remains to-day with Mr. Elliston,' and I will despatch it instantly." The expedient was no sooner suggested than adopted, and Elliston, taking Mr. Sims's card, vanished instantly from the room, for the purpose already named, but secretly interpolated certain other words to the protocol in question, so that it ran thus-" Mr. Sims remains to-day with Mr. Elliston, and begs that the dinner he had ordered, may be carefully delivered, just as prepared, to the bearer." This being achieved, Elliston returned to the apartment; and Quick being, by this time, well assured some belle plaisanterie was in blossom, took part in the amicable contest of civil things, till dinner was announced; and thus, within a quarter of an hour of five, the happy trio sat down together. But no sooner was the first cover removed, than Sims, with some little look of surprise, and great show of satisfaction, exclaimed-"A trout! Mr. Elliston. Well, and I protest a very fine one! but the fishmonger's a rogue, for he told me mine was the only one in the market!" "Fishmongers do lie most infernally," observed Elliston; "why, he told me the very same thing. Come, a glass of wine! Had you been a married man now, this little annoyance had never reached you. Ah! you bachelors! But peradventure you are one who, in searching for female perfection, can only find it in the wives of his friends." Here Sims hid his face. "And then as to a nursery," interposed Quick, "your bachelor, by adoption, may pick and choose his heir; but if he marries, he must put up with any booby that providence assigns him." A second cover was now removed, and a shoulder of mutton, admirably dressed, was presented; at the sight of which, Sims, clasping his hands in token of renewed astonishment, exclaimed, "A shoulder of mutton!-why, it is a shoulder— the very dish I had ordered myself." " "Similar, similar," interposed Quick, laughingly; a coincidence." Sims acknowledged the correction by one of the blandest smiles in nature. "Coincidences are indeed extraordinary," observed Elliston. "I remember in May, 99, the very day Seringapatam was taken, our sexton's wife was brought to bed of twins." "With great humility, my dear Mr. Elliston," observed Sims, "that may be a coincidence; but is it, think you, so very-very remarkable ?" "Why, Hindostan does not yield us cities every spring," replied Elliston, "nor are sexton's wives brought to bed of twins, as a matter of course." "And that both of these events should have happened on the same day, is at least extraordinary," added Quick. "Say no more-say no more; I am completely answered," rejoined Sims. Here Elliston suggested another glass of wine all round. By this time a third cover was removed, and a tart, very temptingly served, succeeded, which Elliston having commenced dividing, Sims rose from his chair, and extending his hands over the dismantled tourte de pommes, screamed out, "An apple-pie, as I live! Forgive me for swearing, but I gave special orders for an apple-pie my. self. Apple-apple, said I to Mrs. Green and Mrs. Blowflower, and here it is!" "Yes, I'll give up Seringapatam after this!" said Elliston, mysteriously; "but when fruit is in season you know- -why, I'll be bound they have an appletart next door." "Apples are unusually plentiful this year," ob. served Quick. "Come, another glass of wine! It shall at least be no apple of discord." The repast was now drawing to a close, and Elliston, who had promised his guests a bottle of superior port wine, gave orders for its immediate introduction; but in the mean time, a half Stilton cheese, in prime condition, was placed on the table. We are told that a certain maréchal of France was always taken in convulsions at the sight of a sucking pig, that Tycho Brahe swooned at the very glimpse of a hare, and that the philosophic Bayle was seized with sickness at the sound of water running from a cock; but the concentrated force of all these phenomena could scarcely have produced a more electric shock, than the sudden appearance of the said Stilton cheese on the nerves of Mr. Sims. Springing from his seat, as though stung by an adder, he gazed upon the dish before him in breathless stupefaction, and was no sooner restored to strength of utterance, than he shrieked aloud, "A cheese! a cheese!-and, is it possible, a Stilton cheese, too?" "My good Sims- interrupted Elliston. 66 Tis magic! magic! Excuse me for swearing; but I-I, myself, my dear Mr. Elliston, have a Stilton too!" "And what more probable ?" "But the mould!-that fine blue mould!-and | far forgot himself as to remember a song, and bý all this marble tracing-'tis most positively the ten o'clock there was not a happier gentleman of threescore in the four parishes. same!" "Similar, similar," interposed Quick, a second time. "Tell me," said Elliston, with an ineffable look of wisdom, "where did you purchase your half Stilton ?" "At Coxe's," was the reply. "Then, upon my honor, the cheese before you was bought at the same place. Why, 'tis the other half! and your fine blue mould and marble veining must inevitably correspond to the minutest speck. The fact is, we have been lucky to-day in hitting each other's taste. Come, the port!" This lucid judgment was acquiesced in by Sims, with a smile of the most lavish admiration, and the cloth being removed, the host began to push the bottle. In vain have we collected all the fine things that transpired from this moment. The three friends were in considerable force, and the decanter circulated as briskly as a hat in a mountebank's ring. As the wine sank, their spirits rose; Mr. Sims so Mr. Sims being now sufficiently far gone-ripe as his own Stilton, for the purpose-Elliston gave directions for a sedan chair to be in waiting, and collecting the crockery of the woollen-draper, which had lately graced the dinner-table, he placed the pyramidal pile on a wooden tray, flanking the edifice by the four black bottles they had just emptied. The All things being now in readiness, Mr. Sims, much against his inclination, was assisted into the chair, and being secured therein, the tray and porcelain, borne on the head of a porter, like a board of black plumes in advance of a solemn hearse, led the procession to the Abbey Churchyard. body of Mr. Sims, dancing between the poles, came next in order, while Elliston and his friend, as chief mourners, brought up the rear. In this way they reached the mausoleum of the illustrious departed, and having "made wet their eyes with penitential tears," left the rites of sepulture to the care of Mrs. Green and Mrs. Blowflower. I AM better to-day. How much so do I feel by a visit from my friend Charles Bamfylde! His companionable qualities minister to my spirit a transient reinvigoration, in which I ever find the bodily frame participates. Charles is really a feature in the drama of life, contributing little, perhaps, to the great business of the scene, which, mechanically, would go on as well without him; but his character bears with it an agreeable variety, by which, though the world itself may not be materially benefited, yet I undoubtedly am. Though frequently a butt, he is always a hero; and in various instances his good-natured blundering begets him as much applause as though he were a positive wit. The anecdote which he has just related, though not of the first order, even after his own way, occupies still a page in the social adventures of my friend; and here it is: | individual, my young friend confessed, much to his annoyance, that he had altogether forgotten it. He felt, however, assured, on relating the circumstance at his family conclave, one and all of them would immediately remind him of it. On reaching home, he described the pleasing apparition of his morning ramble, and, true enough, every circumstance so well recollected by the son had been equally treasured up by the worthy family circle; but on a declaration of his precise dilemma, his mother, with a ludicrous look of embarrassment, observed, "This is, indeed, very untoward, for Sophia and myself are in the same predicament—we also have forgotten the gentleman's name !" The family began now to find their situation becoming not a little perplexed; and on the morrow, as the hour of six p. m. was approaching, with that rapidity which time usually chooses when he promIn the early part of the present week, he had ises to bring evil along with him, the general unaccidentally encountered a certain acquaintance, a easiness was by no means abated. Every project gentleman with whom his father and himself had was thought of which might be likely to unravel originally fallen in, during their short stay at some the distressing mystery. The alphabet was first one of our large mercantile cities, and in whose put into requisition; "Atkins, Batskins, Catskinspower it had been to confer on the Bamfylde family Armstrong, Bachelor, Coxheath,"-all, all in vain. much useful attention and considerable gratifica-"Brown, Jones, and Robinson," were equally of no tion. This gentleman, though neither marvellously avail, and each experiment was a deed without a intelligent himself, nor deeply skilled in the myste- name." ries of science or commercial strife, was still known to others who were so; and by his means, therefore, Mr. Bamfylde, and my favorite friend Charles, passed a fortnight in the city of very much to their satisfaction. Unexpectedly delighted was each at their occurrence in this place, Hastings, and after a hearty shake of recognition, Charles invited his companion to a dinner for the following day, at his father's house. Charles, however, stated a suggestion which might lead to their rescue, which was to lay a special mandate on the foot-boy, to give due emphasis on announcing the name of each guest, at his introduction to the drawing-room; and this he further enforced by actually telling the lad the necessity for it. This arrangement tended in some degree to compose their minds, and they now only awaited the arrival of their dinner-company. In due time, the umber-clouded street-door shook again by the operation of the first knocking. Breathless |