Orcobrand, Genius of the Forest, Mr. Raymond.
Ardenelle, Fairy of the Lake,.. Mrs. H.Siddons.
Principal Sylph,... Mrs. Sharp.
Gossamer,
Miss C. Bristow.

SCENE-Bagdad, and the adjoining Forest. This piece has been so long talked of, that a kind of popularity was bespoken for it, and it issued into the world a favourite by anticipation.But vain are the hopes of man! we must, indeed, confess, that The Forty Thieves have much disappointed us. The original simplicity of the story is nowise preserved. The fable is pressed down by an incumbering machinery of fairies, genii, and hobgoblins. The admirable quaintness in the original character of the Cobler is lost; and Ali Baba excites no one emotion whatever. The Amazonian spirit, and desperate subtlety of Morgiana, are entirely obliterated. In a word, a fine towering palm is taken from the Arabian garden, and transplanted into a bed of barren sand, where its leaves fall off, its head bows, and it turns to a mere dry and withered stick. Had this piece been handled with suitable talent, much, much indeed might have been made of it.-As it is, we can commend nothing but the music, the admirable exertions of the performers (particularly of Bannister, Miss De Camp, and Mathews), and a sumptuousness and magnificence of scenery, which evince a bold defiance of expence in the Managers of Drury-lane Theatre.

The plot of this Opera. if indeed it can he said to have any, is borrowed from the admirable poem, entitled "The Lay of the Last Minstiel," by Walter Scot, Esq. For any thing of a dramatic structure, this plot is too scanty. Laird Ronald is believed to have been drowned, when is fact he is not drowned. This is the only mystery of the piece. A jealous and insidious rival endeavours to supplant him in the favour of his mistress and the fortunes of her father. In this he succeeds, till the proper time in which the catastrophe of the piece required the appearance of Laird Ronald, the vindication of his rights, and the punishment of his rival-Upon such meagre materials, what could be erected?

In a word there was but one character in this piece; that of Christopher Kilspindie; and he was a bad imitation of Lingo. - Laird Ronald and Edward sang their songs, and did nothing.The ladies merely walked across the stage. There was some attempt at character in Sir Alfred, and the excellent actor to whom it belonged, did every thing for it; but e nihilo nihil fit; it had nothing of merit but what it derived from Munden.

The favour with which the piece was received, was principally owing to the music, which is chiefly composed or selected by Reeve. Some of the songs were encored. Fawcett came in for his full share of applause, particularly in his song about Æneis aud Dido, which, we believe, we have frequently heard from the author of the piece, in divers places, with great pleasure; and we were very happy to find that what had given so much satisfaction in more private circles, was received with such approbation in a public theatre.

Very little expence has been incurred in the scenery and decorations. We did not observe any new scene till we came to the last, which was rather novel, and certainly produced a good effect. It was so contrived as to represent an amphitheatre; two circular rows of seats were occupied by various persons, in different characters, and on the back scene was painted a succession of rising seats, forming on the whole five or six stages, filled with spectators of the combat proposed between the Danish Chief, Guthred, and the English Chieftain, Edward, which was prevented by the appearance of Ronald, who was supposed to have been slain, and whose murder was charged upon Edward by Guthred, who intended to murder him, but had been prevented. Guthred, on his detection, is carried off by the soldiery, harmony ensues, the union between the families take place, and the denouement of the piece is concluded by separate dances of the English and Scotch visitors.

cate sensibility. They afterwards perceived distinctly a small light bubble, which being resolved into smoke, was dispersed in the air.

It is essential, ladies, that I should inform you, that this heart floated ha itually in a limpid and cold liquid, containing a soft substance. This liquid was carefully collected by the professor in a glass tube.

You must certainly have observed the effects of the atmospheric air on the obedient liquid contained in the thermometer. That in which

the heart of our young female had floated, exhibited nearly the same effects; but it was not precisely the air which exercised an influence over it; to agitate it in different ways it was necessary to vary the objects which were brought near it. If a man possessing good sense, sound judgment, wisdom or modesty, approached this liquid, it suddenly fell to the bottom of the tube, and seemed to shun him; but on the appearance of a young fop, it rose with velocity towards the orifice of the vessel, which was no longer capable of containing it.

This experiment having been afterwards repeated in an assembly of young people of both sexes, where pleasure presided, the liquid was in such constant and violent agitation, that it had the appearance of boiling water. It was so sensible to impressions of every kind, that the approach

of a new ribband, an elegant cap, fashionable ear-rigs, or the most trifling gew-gaw were sufficient to throw it into incessant agitation.

I wished to obtain possession of this wonderful instrument and I one day requested my friend, the physician to purchase it for me, let the price be what it would. He laughed heartily at my sim plicity, and assured me that all young women are so many thermometers, or rather frivolimeters of that kind.

I cannot persuade myself, besides, that my physician told me the truth; but so much I know that we meet with many malicious and unjust people, who in every circumstance strive to make your sex responsible for the faults of two or three of you. They have, for example, the presumption to assert, that all the happiness of your lives consists in imitating the new-blown flowers which suffer themselves to be caressed by every fluttering butterfly which passes that way.

If, however, what I think impossible, actually existed, if it were true that the hearts of women float incessantly in a liquid so extraordinary, what praises ought we not to bestow on those, of whom I could mention a great number, who, rising superior to vulgar sentiments, unite to every charm for which they are indebted to nature, the practice of every virtue.