of F walk. It is very strange that the approbation of an audience, so Baotian as I taught myself the people were, should give me such satisfaction; but I believe from the night on which I played Hassan so successfully, they began to rise in my estimation. Just as I was about to realise my golden dream, I received a letter from my mother, who, by some means, heard of my whereabout-commanding my presence at home within three days, or, in the event of my not complying, threatening to come in person and fetch me. My mother's eagerness to have me home was, I believe, increased by her dread of some love affair between me and Mary Anne; but she might have made her mind quite easy in that respect, for I was so engrossed in my professional pursuits, that not even Venus herself could win me from my studies. It gave me some pain to leave the company; but, as the next weeek (passion week), would be a vacation without salary, and as my purse was rather low, there was no alternative. A circumstance occurred on the evening before my departure, which tended not a little to lessen my regret. I was walking with two others of the company through a remote part of the town, when a fellow from amongst a crowd of others, who were engaged in "pitch and toss," bawled out to one of his companions-"Jack, Jack, look at the three showmen !!!" This was too much-a professor of a liberal art—a living illustrator of the immortal Shakspeare, to be called a showman!!! My gorge rose at it. I resolved never again to subject myself to such an indignity. I had acquired a knowledge of what is technically called stage business in Mr. C's company, and my intention was to study severely at home, avail myself of such advantages as the private theatres held out for practical improvement, and ultimately demand an appearance on the Dublin or London boards. With this resolution I took leave of the company, and set out for home next morning. Thus ended my first attempt. On my return home, I re-organised the private companies which had been broken up during my absence, and again rejoiced in the performance of Othello and Macbeth. One day during rehearsal I was told a person wished to speak with me. It was poor Harry Warren, one of my late brother actors, a man of greater and more varied abilities than I ever met in the profession, and one who but for his inveterate attachment to the bottle, would have realised a handsome fortune on the stage. He had been a respectable shopkeeper in Belfast, but business beginning to decline, I believe through his own neglect, he adopted the stage and succeeded rapidly. His extraordinary social powers unfortunately for himself made him a universal favourite; his studies were neglected; he was dismissed from the Metropolitan Theatre for absence on a night of performance, and sunk lower and lower through the provincial theatres, until I found him the star of Mr. C's company with a salary of five and twenty shillings per week. There was no line in the profession which he could not fill respectably, but though like myself he set out as a tragedian, his principal forte lay in broad comedy, and his performances in that way were the most humourous exhibitions I ever witnessed, and executed without the slightest tendency to caricature. Warren used tell a story of the late George Cook, which may be worth reciting, Cook made him a favorite when they played together in Dublin, and one night invited him to take a glass of punch at his lodgings after the performance, a compliment which Warren gladly accepted. After a few jugs had been discussed, Cook spoke of Warren's future prospects, complimented him on his talents, advised him of all things to be temperate in his habits and to avoid the temptations into which his too social disposition would be likely to lead him. "You know, my dear Warren-fill your glass my boy-you know a young fellow like you, who can sing a good song, tell a pleasant story, or keep up a spirited conversation-fill your glass lad-will be always in request; but that's not the way to make yourself acquainted with your author-your health; or hit out new points which may catch an audience." "No indeed sir." "Well then-why the devil dont you fill your glass?—my advice to you is to avoid company-avoid drinking. I know the consequences of it, my lad; it has been my ruin-Here, Mrs. Brady, another jug." "No more to night Mr. Cooke,-I'll give you no more to night; you had quite enough." "You wont, Mrs. Brady? do you hear that?" and smash went the jug and glasses-"see here, my dear Warren, this is the consequence of drinking, let it be a warning to you." "Wont you give the other jug, Mrs. Brady?" "No Mr. Cooke." "Do you hear that Mrs. Brady?" He flittered a pier glass. "You'll be sorry for it, in the morning Mr. Cooke." Thus he went on, calling for punch, demolishing the furniture as it was refused, descanting on the consequences of excess, and pointing to himself and his conduct as illustrations. Yet the same Warren, who told this story, and had such an example before his eyes, indulged to a most brutal excess; and frequently kept his bed for a fortnight with the whiskey bottle beside him. But to turn to my story, The passion-week recess broke up Mr. C's company. The loss of a week's salary was more than they could endure; and they separated in two's and three's, gagging* through the country. Mary Anne— and the news proved to me that my heart took a greater interest in her than it imagined-my Mary Anne, whom I believed to be "Chaste as the icicle "That's curdled by the frost from purest snow had run away with a Captain Phillips, and left her debts unpaid at the lodgings to which I introduced her. Mary Anne! whom I imagined beyond *Gagging-a theatrical technical for small travelling parties, who, too few to perform entire pieces, gave scenes from popular plays, songs and recitations, in barns or ball-rooms, as fortune frowned or favored. all sensual passion, wholly absorbed in the love of the noble art, to which, from our youth upwards, we both devoted ourselves with such entire abandonment, and whose fame I deemed would have gone down with mine own to an admiring posterity. It was too bad. However, I resolved to go on with my studies, and be "myself alone." Warren's business in was to endeavour, through my influence, to raise a few pounds in the way of benefit at one of the private theatres, and then join a company some sixty miles off. This was easily effected; but, so slow are the motions of private theatricals, almost the entire produce of the benefit was consumed before the piece was brought out. On the night of performance, Warren, who-being an incomparable mimic-was to give imitations of celebrated actors, lay as usual dead drunk behind the scenes. Being roused up by the call boy, he staggered forward to the foot-lights, with his hat on, and began "You all knew George Cooke," (hisses) "damn ye, did ye know George Cooke," (renewed hisses mixed with laughter). Atlength he was suffered to go on, and gave the imitations in so masterly a style as to win the most unmingled approbation, notwithstanding his drunkenness and his filthy appearance; but we could never attempt another benefit for him. The poor fellow was in a most deplorable condition, when fortunately the Dublin company came to our town, wanting exactly such a man as Warren; and, though they knew his courses, they were compelled to engage him, more especially |