Bartley and Mr. Mallinson were to "star it," the former, in Sir Anthony Absolute, and "The Three Singles," and the latter, in Acres, and Humphrey Grizzle,-a jug containing "real Staffordshire ale," a snuff-box, two somewhat soiled ostrich-feathers, and a tea-saucer containing spangles.

An old-fashioned mahogany (unpolished) dining-table, with one leaf up, stood on one side of the room, covered with bound and unbound books (dramatic, of course), play-bills, tickets, tin checks, and tin check-boxes. A pair of soiled, white satin shoes, bound with silver cord, a decanter, with the neck chipped, some ringlets en papillottes, a silver-leather helmet, (the manageress had acted the Queen, in the "Battle of Hexham," I found, the preceding night,) and a pot of

rouge.

The old-fashioned seat of the window was covered with "odds and ends" of various kinds-slippers, and coloured hose, a dagger, a green velvet bonnet, a very faded green veil, and a small dog-collar.

The fireplace, instead of a fire-board, was adorned with an old posting-bill of the "Wood Demon," and the "Romp;" a sword, without its scabbard, was carelessly reclining on one side of the grate; and on the other, a parasol, over which ink had fallen. A black velvet robe, spotted with spangles, like stars, was thrown over the back of one chair, and a bilious-coloured, tiny mongrel cur occupied another.

A closet, the door of which stood open, disclosed sundry articles of "creature comforts" on the shelves-a piece of boiled ham, a slice of butter, a tin tea-cannister, two or three rolls of bread, a black bottle (contents unknown), a vinegar-cruet, a powder-puff, a pair of curlingirons, some old artificial flowers, with many more articles, "too tedious to mention in this here advertisement."

In the lower part of this receptacle were a pair of pattens, an umbrella, an earthen jar, usually containing spirits by the gallon, a bandbox, and a pair of ladies' laced-boots, somewhat dusty.

As my future mistress was busily occupied in "making out the bill" for the next performance, I had plenty of time to scan everything in the room, including its stout occupant. She had evidently been a very fine woman, had still a brilliant eye, and was "round as a tun,”

"Like two single fish-women, rolled into one;"

she was in dishabille, although the day was far advanced, “all occasioned," as she said, "by a press of business, and the fatigue of the preceding evening, when she had performed Miss Hardcastle and Ella Rosenberg-Mrs. Hardcastle and Mrs. Flutterman would, in my mind, have been nearer the mark; but as I had not long before seen Mrs. Jordan, the finest comic actress of the day (of any day, I might say), then very stout, perform characters equally juvenile, I was not very much surprised, not knowing what the great lady's talents might or might not be.

"Full many a flower is born to blush unseen,
And waste its sweetness on the desert air."

I waited patiently, as in duty bound, until the devil (the printer's) was sent "down below," and then we proceeded to business.

It glads me, sir, to see you. When did you arrive?" "About an hour ago, ma'am."

"Walked you from Yorkshire, all the way, sir?"

"No, ma'am; only from Lichfield."

"From Tamworth thither is but one day's march!'"

"I walk'd it in little less than two hours, ma'am." "Ah! You look very young, sir."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Did you ever play Faulkland in the 'Rivals?" "No, ma'am; never."

"We act the Rivals' on Friday, and the Three and the Deuce;' we must get you to play the Coachman and Sir Lucius O'Trigger." "I never played either of those characters, ma'am; and, if you please, I should prefer opening in something else."

"Well, sir, what have you done in the 'Rivals?"

"David, ma'am."

"Let me see; David-David-well, sir, so let it be; you shall have it. Would you like to take a glass of ale? "We are famous here for our ale,' as Boniface says."

"Much obliged to you, ma'am; but I have only just taken my tea." Well, sir, David shall be your opening part. I must trouble you to call at the printer's-he lives just round the corner-and tell him to put you in for David; your first appearance, from the Theatre Royal, York, although you never played there-it will be better than naming a smaller town. Tell the printer to leave a blank for the gentleman's name who is to play Sir Lucius, for I can't fix upon any one just now for it. I thought you might like to open it; but it is of no consequence, whatever, for everybody, I dare say, has to study; and it must be quite immaterial to my gentlemen what they do." "Am I to play in the farce, ma'am?"

“Oh, yes. It is a very full piece; and some of my gentlemen have left me to-day, quite suddenly; so you must play Renard, the Frenchman, and double it with Mr. Milford."

"Shall I not look too young for it, ma'am? You know Mr. Milford has his daughter on the stage with him."

"Oh, never mind that, 'tis of no consequence-we can alter it, and call her your sister; it will be quite as well. I don't know who has got the book of the farce-you must find out the prompter, he can tell you; and if it be engaged, you can have it in the morning whilst we are rehearsing the play-they are both very short parts."

"Good afternoon, ma'am."

"Adieu; by the by, our prompter is going to leave us, so, if you like to prompt also, I will raise your salary two shillings a week."* "Thank you, ma'am; but I would rather not."

"Very well, as you like; then Mr. Gray must be the man-he will do very well, if his deafness goes off; he caught a severe cold fishing in the rain, and has been somewhat deaf ever since-why my gents are so fond of fishing I cannot imagine. Good day, sir; mind how you go down stairs-there's no light-leave the door open. Once

The prompter did leave the company, having obtained a better situation; but, as his finances were far from flourishing, the company, one and all, cheerfully subscribed to enable him to travel with his family to his new engagement. And I may here state, that actors, however slender their means, are notorious for the assistance they invariably render their needy brethren, and for the kind feelings they evince towards each other.

more, good day. Oh, Mr. Mr. I beg your pardon, I really forget your name."

"Meadows, ma'am."

"To be sure; had I thought of Young Meadows I should have reDid you ever play Orlando or Jacques, in

membered it at once.

'As You Like It?"

"No, ma'am, never."

I

"Never mind, it's of no great consequence; only, if anything should occur to prevent Mr. Bartley or Mr. Mallinson from coming on Friday, we shall do that play, and you must act one of those parts. have not acted Rosalind this season, and it's a great favourite here. Good day."

I hastened away, not at all pleased with my prospect. I had heard too much of fishing, and too little of regularity to render me "hopeful." I feared I should very soon be obliged to change my situation, and my ten-pounder.

I called on the printer; he hoped I might prove successful-feared I had acted very foolishly in joining the Tamworth company, as everything was going wrong-the houses having been very bad. "I am sorry for you, young gentleman," said he; "take my advice, leave as soon as you can, for I am much deceived if you do not find Stratford quite as bad as Tamworth, perhaps worse."

I attended rehearsal the following morning; the company, one and all, received me most kindly; but all lamented, for my own sake, my joining them when there was every prospect of their breaking up.

I acted David-was very perfect, and in consequence had the advantage of some of my brethren, who had no great devotion for study. Ill-paid troops are frequently careless in the performance of their duties. I believe I received some applause, and I well remember being complimented by the "star" of the evening. My stout"double stout," single manageress, acted Lydia Languish; and I fancied had she been one-half, or two-thirds less, she would have been much greater in the part; but, notwithstanding her size, in my young opinion, she acted well.

Of my Frenchman I have no recollection; but, as I knew nothing of the language, it must have been singularly good, especially as at that time I had a strong Yorkshire accent, which must have rendered the foreigner peculiarly effective. Colman made an Irish-Yorkshireman, in "Who wants a Guinea;" but I believe I produced the first Yorkshire-Frenchman.

I received on the Saturday one night's salary-seven shillings! having acted but one night, and an order to proceed to Stratford-uponAvon, where, as the "acting" manager informed us, we were to open during the following week, "provided," said he, "the building (barn) can be fitted up in time; if not, we shall certainly open on Monday week."

At this time the birth-place of the immortal bard could not boast of a regular built theatre, though the temporary one, fitted up very neatly, was, as I found, well attended, and that, too, by the gentry of the town and neighbourhood. Some years ago, a neat theatre was built in Stratford; but I understand it has never been well attended. Our opening was delayed, so that I lost one week's salary, and was

compelled to change my ten-pound note-a sad change I considered it; and I determined to change my situation as soon as possible, for I felt that "any change must better my condition."

I shall never forget the astonishment of the cashier at the bank on my presenting my paper friend for change. He eyed me from head to foot-my note from letter to letter, and from figure to figure-held it up to the light to examine the water-mark, &c., it appeared to him (at least, so I fancied) to be a doubtful, if not a suspicious case. Begged my pardon for asking such a question, "But was I REALLY one of the Stratford company?" Inquired where I came from, and asked many more inquisitorial questions, concluding with, "How will you have it, sir?"

"Gold, and a five-pound note, sir, if you please."

He gave me the required change, scarcely for an instant taking his eyes from my face, "but to the last bended their light on me."

I understood from some of the company that the theatre in Stratford was always well attended, and the benefits good; I therefore banished my fears, but resolved to be very economical, and, if possible, keep my five pound note unchanged, sadly lamenting my being obliged to let off my ten-pounder to enable me to carry on the war.

Fortune did smile upon us. Business was good, though, assuredly, our company was not; we failed principally in our orchestra, which consisted of-shall I tell it?-a fife and tamborine! for the regular musicians of the company left us in Tamworth, and here we could not obtain any, the two above named excepted.

Mr. Dowton acted with us one night, during his star-engagement at Birmingham, and, for the first time, I played Acres and Gregory ("Turn Out"); he was announced to sing, in Restive in the farce, "All the world was born to vex me," and " Hey for the merry wedding day;" but, as Charles Mathews says in "Patter versus Clatter,' "he didlt," for he did not like our band, strange as it may appear; and as he would not sing without an accompaniment, we cut the songs out," and, as our manageress said, "did very well without them, terminating the performances somewhat earlier, which is always agreeable," continued she, "especially to the boarding-school mistress, who brings her young ladies at 2s. a head; and it saves a little-the burning of our candles; added to which, finishing early is desirable, as the people like to be home at a decent hour."

The Quizzical Gazette, some years ago, stated that "Mr.- (name forgotten) acted Hamlet in three hours and a half, and made nothing of it." But we, in the way of time, beat him hollow; for we generally got through a five-act play and a two-act farce in the same time; and, I doubt not, in like manner, made nothing of it.

Our houses were very good, but, strange to say, at the end of the first week I received my salary-my twenty-one shillings, by instalments, and in a most extraordinary manner, as I shall relate anon.

356

A FEW PASSAGES ON DREAMS, NIGHT-NOISES, AND PHANTOMS.

"Persons, after a debauch of liquor, or under the influence of terror, or in the deliria of a fever, or in a fit of lunacy, or even walking in their sleep, have had their brain as deeply impressed with chimerical representations as they could possibly have been, had these representations struck their senses."-SHENSTONE: "An Opinion of Ghosts."

"IT faded on the crowing of the cock," says Marcellus to Horatio, speaking of the grand phantom of Hamlet's father, the most awful apparition yet evoked by the imagination of man, a royal shade more potent as the monarch of spirits, than while, in the body, it wielded the sceptre of the then mighty Denmark. But, with all its attributes of power, "the majesty of buried Denmark" could only "revisit the glimpses of the moon, making night hideous." As dawn came on, it "faded." Daylight is not propitious to ghosts, who require a dim and shadowy arena,-darkness, when they can get it; or, in default of that, an artificial light which mostly includes heavy glooms favourable to "their exits and their entrances." They glimmer in front of a picture, of which the background must be obscure; and they demand in their spectators a certain frame of mind brought about either by the temporary bewilderment of somnolency, by moral or physical derangement, by sorrow or fear, by boundless credulity, or by the natural depression of mental energy existing, more or less, in all human beings at very late hours. Ghosts never prey on sagacious or healthy subjects, surrounded by cheerful accessories. "Your lordship," said Sir Thomas Wilde, the other day, to Lord Chancellor Lyndhurst," is not the kind of man to see apparitions; besides, you do not eat suppers." Phantoms, then, must have ready-prepared witnesses, suffering under dyspepsia, or otherwise morbidly affected, and a certain apparatus, like conjurors; or they are nothing. To speak somewhat in the manner of the fantastical old physician of Norwich, one might say, "Why, ghosts are never seen in daylight, or why they generally affect a tête-à-tête, though puzzling questions, are not beyond all conjecture." The fact is, that laughter is death to ghosts; and what but laughter would attend the appearance of one of them, at noon, in Pall Mall? Lord Byron fancied he saw a phantom of a Black Friar at Newstead Abbey; but, to use his own language, it

Now in the moonlight, and now lapsed in shade."

It would be the very triumph of the world of spirits if one of them could maintain its pretensions in the eye of day; this would settle all