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 Anneand 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 as it was to be hoped his late sufferings would exercise some influence on his habits, and he was enrolled at a salary of three guineas a week. Boy as I was, I I gave him the best advice in my power, and he promised to be cautious. On the night of performance I called on him early, anxious to be inducted into the green room of a Theatre Royal, and to gaze more closely at the stars, whose splendour I was shortly destined to outshine. Warren was at a theatrical tavern in the neighbourhood whither I pursued him. The hour of performance arrived, and I urged him to the theatre; but he was deep in a discussion, and seemed inclined rather to give up his engagement than abandon his debate. Hour after hour passed in entreaties on my part, and stupid excuses on his. Some person had to read his character of Michael in the Adopted Child; and Warren lost his engagement, with whatever little hope remained of a character for punctuality in his profession. In a short time after, some friend procured him an humble situation in one of the public offices in Dublin, where he died of the bottle; adding one instance more to the melancholy catalogue of great powers perverted, and noble minds o'erthrown. Before his departure he advised me earnestly against pursuing the profession; but, finding my attachment too strong to be shaken, he gave me a few general rules which I found of the highest importance; and corrected my pronunciation, which, notwithstanding my high hopes of theatrical preferment, was at the time extremely barbarous-as thus in the following passage: "Not hair me? By my sufferings but you shall. "My Lord, my Lord, I'm not the abject thing 66 Why, where's the distance throws me back so far, "Though proud oppression will not hair me? I now gave myself up to my dramatic studies with increased ardour; and though private theatricals, in defiance of all my exertions to keep them alive, rapidly declined; I still, in the solitude of my apartment, devoted myself to the excellencies of the art. Notwithstanding my resolution not to appear again but in a metropolitan theatre, an opportunity offered which I could not resist-more especially as two of my friends whose talent did not clash with mine, were about to join the same company. The manager was a Mr. S. a townsman of my own, and one who had acquired considerable reputation as a tragedian, in a large amateur company of more pretension than any of those in which I used to perform; inasmuch as they played in the Theatre Royal, and for the benefit of extended charities, whilst our theatre was a store, and some poor individual the object of our bounty. Mr. S. was considered a first-rate Octavian -even the rival of Kean in that particular character, and was to open in it the very night I joined the company at Y Never was any fame so ill-founded as that which Mr. S. had acquired. He had a good person, a splendid voice, an expressive face, a speaking eye; in short all the physical qualities of an actor, but not one of the intellectual ones.— He had a good memory for points, tones, and gestures, but could never commit the words of an author. Let him see a character performed by a master and he made a great attempt at a copy; but put a new piece into his hands, and he was as ignorant of what should be done with it as if he had never seen a dramatic exhibition. This gentleman's performance on the night of our opening at Y—, more than ever convinced me of my powers, and confirmed me in my hopes of future glory. Never yet was any thing sooutrageously caricatured, so extravagantly travestied, as his Octavian. The character itself is quite enough in "King Cambyses' vein," but he "overdid termagant, out-heroded Herod." "Tis true he remembered and attempted all Mr. Kean's points; but, then, they were so overacted, so indiscriminately heaped upon each other, and so untimelily introduced, that it was obvious he did not know to what end or for what purpose the great master used them. One point, which Mr.Kean makes powerfully effective, he maltreated with pecuculiar emphasis of excess. 'Tis where old Roque says "Do you not know this face?" Mr. Kean opens up his dishevelled hair; looks intently into the eyes of the questioner; pauses for a hurried moment, whilst memory seems to rush back upon his brain; and then, as if by an inward and merely mental effort he would regain the lost idea of the person before him, walks suddenly away; returns, takes one more rapid but unacknowledging look, and cries" no, no." This in Mr. Kean's performance always ' no, |