man, or stick of a lover, and night after night was I greeted with the same ironical applause. But it affected me nothing; I had steeled my heart against it, and consoled myself with the sweet revenge I would have on these Goths, as I passed through their town on my way to the neighbouring city, starring it from London, a living stigma on their taste and discernment. This thought gave me great delight, and I even began to find a pleasure in their insulting applause. In some of the lovers I might have gone on respectably enough, but for the vanity of the manager's wife, who chose all the comedy heroines: a fat fubsy woman, about forty; the very antipodes of sentiment, and for whom even George the fourth could entertain no predilection. Had I played to any of the younger and prettier actresses, their persons might have inspired me, but I felt that to simulate passion for her would be too ludicrous. At length my fortunate star shone out. I was cast for Saib in the Castle Spectre; but, Hassan falling sick, and having a very quick study, I undertook to get up in the part at an unusually short notice. The night of performance arrived. I came out, as usual, with my arms folded, but such an entrance was in perfect keeping with the sullen and mysterious Hassan. I had taken great trouble with my dress, and really looked the part. I was received with the accustomed applause, and bowed as to a mark of merited approbation. This produced a laugh; but, as I proceeded, I was heard with a good deal of attention, and some encouraging murmurs;

until, at length, at the conclusion of the speech in which Hassan recites and mourns over his former happiness, the whole house joined in one loud burst of genuine applause.

scene,

Not Franklin when he succeeded in bringing down the lightning from the electric cloud felt half such rapture as I, when I brought down that thunder. The fountains of love and humanity, which contempt and derision had frozen up, re-opened in my heart, and I could have kissed the whole audience, man, woman, and child; nay even the greasy lamplighter might have shared my embraces. It was with difficulty I restrained the tears of delight that rushed to my eyes whilst I got through the remainder of the The manager, when I came off, shook hands with, and congratulated me; asking why I did not playalways thus. I replied rather bitterly-for it struck me that he envied the applause which I more than shared with his principal character Osmond-"that he never before afforded me the opportunity." The remainder of the night confirmed my triumph. I threw some touches of spirit and animation even into the walking gentleman for which I was cast in the farce, and contrived to make love to the manager's fat wife with some appearance of ardour. As I passed through the town next day, I had the gratification to enjoy the digito monstrari feeling, and the dicier hic est. My opinions in the green-room were more attended to, my cast of parts, though not equalling my expectations, was improved, and the actresses were more anxious to have my arm in a

walk. It is very strange that the approbation of an audience, so Baotian as I taught myself the people of F——————— 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?"