not hear, but which ended with, "It is impossible." I took his hand; "Do not refuse an old man the only pleasure life now yields him, that of doing good, or at least of believing he is doing good to a fellow creature. I tell you Iam interested in you; do not, from false pride or false delicacy, hurt me by a refusal. Young man! (I added, earnestly pointing to the book that I had replaced on the table) there is a tale which will convince more than the arguments of preachers, or the reasonings of philosophers. To be in poverty, is neither merit or demerit; to bear poverty patiently is wisdom; not to be ashamed of poverty is greatness.' I pressed his hand; he returned the pressure; the water glistened in his eyes. "I will do what you wish, sir; command me." "I shall call for you to-morrow," I replied, and moved towards the door. At the motion, the girl raised her head; she followed to let me out. Bidding her good day, and to prepare herself and brother for their journey, I pressed my purse into her hand, laying at the same time a finger on my lips, and looking significantly at her brother, who was too much absorbed in thought to observe her. The girl hesitated, and pushed back the purse; I looked again at her brother, and she received it: Then, following me across the threshold, she whispered, "But it is more than enough, sir, I am sure. We have only a fortnight's rent to discharge; a few shillings will be sufficient. "He will settle that to-morrow," I replied, and hurried down stairs. I fear, sir, I may have already encroached too much on your Paper; I shall therefore proceed no farther at present than to say, I succeeded in winning my two young friends from their miserable garret, and ta king them with me to a small romantic estate among the Pentlands. ISAAC HARDING. To the Conductor of the SALE-ROOM. I felt the crimson flush of shame mantling o'er my cheek, on finding myself, on my return to town, after a few weeks absence, closely compressed into a corner of one of your numbers, with a strange gentleman of the name of Corduroy ;—a situation which unwittingly brought to my mind a certain portion of malé attire, that cannot be decorously named without the convenient disguise of the French language; and I did not recover my usual presence of mind, till I was relieved by the ingenious explication of Mr Moses Macrae. I could not help contrasting the consolatory faith of the self-satisfied representative of the house of Douglas, with the comfortless scepticisin of my helpmate the Doctor, for I am sorry to say, that his reasoning faculties are so strangely obscured, that he doubts of every thing and every body, and believes nothing but what he fancies he can himself reduce to mathematical certainty. Now, sir, this dubious way of thinking is positively very provoking. 66 Delia," said he yesterday, "I doubt the propriety of your intention to introduce our family and connexions into the SaleRoom; for you know full well, that the doubts respecting my patronymic appellation have never been altogether disentang. led, and it is still doubtful whether its origin is Saxon or Norse." He muttered something about thunder, which I did not comprehend; and observed, that he would add a postcript, or note of explanation, to any written communication I might make to you upon the subject; and that he was resolved to exert his authority whenever the matter should come before the committee. This I cannot prevent. But I told him that I was determined to give you a history of our descent, in spite of his threats or his thunder; and I am inclined to think that the lightning which flashed from my eye would have compelled the most incredulous scep tic to acknowledge with the Doctor, that there is one thing certain in this world, viz. that his wife will have her own way. it is not of much consequence to hin now, for his elder brother, Sir David Dunder, Bart. of Dunderhaugh, in Berwickshire, who is the present head of the family, was, when I entered the marriage state, a bachelor in the wane of life, with a very feeble constitution; but he has since married a young and healthy dame, who has brought him three sturdy boys to intervene between me and the chance I once had of becoming Lady Dunder. The Doctor is a first cousin of my own; my maiden designation was Wronghead, a name well esteemed in the west of England; and I presume, sir, there are few of your acquaintances who have not heard of my celebrated ancestor, Sir Francis Wronghead, who made a long and perilous "Journey to London," purely for the good of his country, at a time when travelling was not accomplished with the celerity and convenience of the present day. The numerous branches of our family are spread over various parts of Great Britain, for we are collaterally con nected with the Addleheads, the Botherheads, the Wimbleheads, and many other heads in the country. We are also dis I firmly believe that no one is entirely divested of the pride of ancestry, except those who have had no ancestors but such as it would be prudent to forget. I confess I am as powerfully possessed of this feeling as Count Coeur du Roy, or any other nobly descended inhabitant of North Britain, though perhaps I do not consider it of such vital importance as my Glamorganshire friend, the Rev. Owen ap Lamech, who conscientiously carries back his geneaology two centuries previous to the flood. The Dunders, whatever the Doctor may assert to the contrary, are of genuine Eng-tantly related to the O'Blunders, who have lish extraction, for the name was originally Dunderhead; but, owing to some family feud, one of its representatives struck off the head as superfluous, on coming to settle in Scotland; but whether it was the Doctor's father's great-great-uncle, Sir Reginald, or his great-great grandfather, Sir Rowland, who first considered the head as needless in the family, has never been clearly ascertained; so that my husband is often bewildered in uncertainty, and very much confused about the head. But long been established in Ireland. So, sir, I consider you as entitled to the confidence | the Doctor and me withal, I shall be proud of a friend, and I shall be happy if my ef- to introduce them to you whenever you forts can in any way contribute to the per-will favour me with a call; and manent establishment of your Sale-Room. As to the progeny that Heaven has blessed I am, Sir, THE SALE-ROOM. No. XVIII] SATURDAY, MAY 5, 1817. A Periodical Paper, published weekly at No. 4, Hanover-Street, Edinburgh. As, like your predecessors, you have condescended to take the drama under your consideration, I presume to intrude on you a few observations, arising from a visit which I lately made to the theatre of this city. But, first, I must give you to understand that I am a lover of the drama, but not what is called a play-going man. So that I am rather a theoretical than a practical favourer of the theatre; and, to speak truth, chief amusement after dinner is to take my up one of Shakespeare's plays, and endeavour to call up before my mind's eye the actors by whom I have seen it represented in my more active days. It is said, that in some œconomical families in Ireland, a red herring is hung up in the centre when the family are assembled round their wooden bowl of potatoes. The substance of the herring is interdicted food, but each individual is permitted to point his morsel towards it, and so to give an imaginary flavour to the national root by exciting the idea of the savoury accompaniment. It is thus (were not the comparison an unworthy one,) that upon the shortest notice, and at no expence save that of imagination, I can command in my closet Falstaff to be presented before me by Henderson, or call: Garrick from the dead to appear in Lear and Hamlet. The exertions of our active and meritorious manager have, however, of late called me from of late called me from my mental "potatoe and point" (such is the denomination of the ideal Hibernian banquet, of which you are welcome to communicate the receipt to any gastronome of your acquaintance,) to the more substantial fare with which he has lately regaled the public. His feelings must be more obtuse than age has yet rendered mine, who can look upon a crowded theatre, when visited for the first time after the lapse of years, without peculiar emotions of pleasure. The hum and buzz of multitudes whom a common pleasure unites in general good-will to each other, the display of youth and beauty, the mixture of persons of all ranks, intent on the same elegant and classical enjoyment, charms at once the eye, and gives lightness to the heart of the spectator. I own I was so much occupied by the pleasing reveries into which the sight naturally involved me, that, not having your friend Peter Grievance at my elbow, I neglected to grumble even at the boots and surtouts of the beaux habiliments, which in my time a gentleman would hardly have appeared in after dinner, even in the pit, although now the ordinary dress of the gentlemen in the boxes. But real good breeding has nothing to do with the fashion of vestments, and I trust that, in spite of crops, round hats, round waistcoats, and Wellington trowsers, the young men of this day may possess as much of it as their predecessors; though I do not extend this charitable hope to one or two hopeful young Calibans, who kept their hats fixed, as if by nails, on the shock-heads they belonged to, while ladies were seated on the bench before them. For the rest, I heartily pardon the fears of rheumatism and a crick in my neck, which I experienced from the flirtation between a gay young officer, whose person intruded itself partially at the box-door, like one of his own pistols half-in half-out of the holster, and Lady Betty (I beg her pardon, I should have said Lady Eliza,) Somebody or other. Indeed, when I consider | how much her person was denuded of the ordinary female integuments, and that she contorted her very pretty neck so as to rival the Ne-plus-ultra bottle screw, I must confess that her ladyship exposed herself very frankly to the same dangers which I apprehended, and have the less reason to find fault with her want of consideration for a risque which she shared. When the green curtain rose, I gave my entire attention to the piece. It was from the pen of Massinger, and I had not failed to give it a careful perusal that morning.I had better have saved myself the trouble, for no citizen's garden at Islington (to adopt the simile in the Critic,) ever exhibited an unfortunate poplar so pollarded, and clipped, and mangled, and switched, and pruned. Excepting the character of Luke, which was played by Mr Kean with his usual talents, there was not one of the dramatis persone who appeared in the light, or uttered the language, of the unfortunate author; and could his spirit have been called up to witness the havoc made in his works by presumptuous omissions and alterations, and yet more presumptuous additions, his place in the next world must be greatly worse than the admirers of his genius would wish it, if he did not hie thither again with all convenient speed. I remem ber Garrick, in one of his lively prologues, compared his attempt to alter a play of Shakespeare to A vintner's, who did praise and credit gain, But the stuff which we had this evening palmed upon us for the pure vintage of Massinger, reminded me of the magnificent hyperbole of the Irishman, when he up-. |