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once to give our readers an account of this pleasant || Maude, that she might prepare to meet her father as bework. The date of the story is in the reign of John, and

came the daughter or Baron Fitz-Walter. the scene is laid in London. At that time the metro

" The vassals were all drawn up in array to receive their

lord with due honour; old Ambrose was issuing his orders, polis was somewhat less extensive than it is at present. and every one hastening to his post with that joyful alaCastle Baynard, wbich is now the name of a Ward, crity, which proved their duty a pleasure. and the residence of sundry thousand quiet industri.

“The cavalcade approached amidst the shouts of the

citizens and apprentices; the trumpets sounding a grand ous citizens, was then a castle and a park, the strong

charge, and the gates of Castle Baynard were thrown wide hold of the Baron Fitzwalter and his daughter Matilda open to receive the noble owner and his retainers. Six the Fair. As one of the chief excellencies of the vo trumpeters wearing tabards bearing Fitz-Walter's arms, lume is its happy adaptation of style to the era it richly embroidered in gold, preceded the Baron: who

I rode a large iron-grey charger, and was clad in a comdescribes,, we will quote a passage which may let the

plete suit of steel, holding in his right hand a truncheon reader into the vestibule of the narrative :

which was supported on his thigh, and a plain helmet

covered his head surmounted by a profusion of blood "Among those who appeared most prominent in opposing red horse hair streaming in the wind. He bowed repeatthe King's oppression was Baron Fitz-Walter, a noble, edly to all around him, and conversed familiarly with a equally respected by his brother Barons and the citizens of young knight on his right, who bestrode a beautiful London, for his wisdom in council and his undaunted cor Barbary stallion black and shining as the raven's wing, rage in the field; and being Lord of Castle Baynard, the and curvetting and prancing to the music of the hoarse! citizens of London always applied to hun for his advice and | brazen trumpets. His armour was of the finest polished succour in their difficulties, which they found him ever steel studded with golden stars, on his burnished casque ne ready to bestow. The Baron, at this time, had been absent Il bore a plume of snow white ostriel

time, had been absent Il bore a plune ol snow white ostrich feathers, and from his several days on a mission to the King at Brackley, where neck hing a large golden star, pendant from a chain of masthe court was then held, and his return was hourly and sive links. Behind this gaily accoutred knight, rode his anxiously expected by all the numerous inmates of Castle trusty squire in company with the Baron's, bearing his Bunnard, but by pone more so than his daughter Matilda | lance and target; next followed an hundred of Fitz-Walter's the fair; and well she merited the cognomen, for in youth- || train on suot, carrying both long and crossbows, habited ful bloom and beauty, she far surpassed the fairest ladies of in green with black velvet caps, adorned with dark green the court, and would have proved a dangerous rival there, plumes; in the rear of these rode fifty horsemen, armed had not her father loved her too affectionately to give up so with spear and target, cuirasses and helms of brass, with lovely and cherished a flower to be blasted by the insinua flowing manes of horsehair of the colour and fashion of the ting breath of adulation, or to be corrupted by the unli- || Baron's; then came the banner of the house of Fitz-Walter censed freedom of the royal court. Nor did he ever hear flapping in the wind, borne by a gentleman in a suit of shell. her breathe a wish to that effect; she found all her happi armour, riding on a milk white charger, with flowing mane ness in the paternal love of the good Baron, whose kind and tail, guarded by twenty horsemen in coats of mail, and ness towards his beloved child was unlimited. He would | accompanied by six trumpeters; lastly came twenty men, sit for hours on the terrace on a serene summer evening, the attendants of the young Knight, in murrey coloured listening with fond delight to the soft melting tones of her | velvet, slashed with white satin, walking two and two, voice, sinsing some ballad of a lady's love, or valiant deed || armed with crossbows and short rapiers; and on a piebald of gay cavalier; and strangers passing beneath her father's ambling nag, sometimes chatting with one, sometimes with walls in their boats, would rest upon their oars and listen another, rode the lord of misrule, or fool, dressed in the with mute attention to the enchanting melody. Ofttimes | most fantastic style, with a cap and bells jinsling most she would accompany these legendary romances with the merrily as he threw himself about, now sitting with his sound of her harp, which she touched with exquisite taste face to the tail, and then again like a lady all on one side, and execution. Sometimes attended by the careful old accompanying his actions with such ludicrous grimaces, Ambrose, whose hairs had whitened in the service of the that he made some of the company shake their sides with Baron and his predecessor, she would mount her pal excessive laughter." frey, and amble, curvet, and caracol about the court-yard, sitting her saddle in the most easy and graceful manner, her

The “ young knight on the Barbary stallion" is a luxuriant faxen tresses flowing in natural ringlets over her ivory neck and shoulders, her lovely blue eyes spark

certain Sir Eustace, who in due course of time, becomes ling with delight, and the sweet smiles of her pretty

the recognized and betrothed lover of Matilda. The mouth denoting the gaiety of her youthful heart. But | King visits Castle Baynard, and struck with beauty since the departure of her father, time had hung heavy on

devises a scheme for her ruin. Sir Eustace is sent to her hands; if she sang it was without delight, for he was not there to praise the measure or the sprightliness of the

France as ambassador, but Matilda spurns the royal execution; her harp was out of tune whenever she touched || overture, John resolves upon the complete destruction it; nay, she would even have complained of the palsrey | of the Fitzwalters, but in an attempt on the castle he being unmanageable, if the fear of wounding the feelings of is defrated. A second is more successful, and Matilda the groom, to whose charge and management it was intrusted, had not restrained her. For three long days she

is placed in great peril. The opportune though unexhad impatiently expected to see her dear father, and on the pected arrival of Sir Eustace rescues her from her danfourth morning was busily employed in completing the em ger, and the general interference of the Barons ensures broidery of a silk scarf, which she intended to present to

future safety to the family of Castle Baynard. From the Baron on bis birth-day, when her page, a handsome boy of eleven or twelve years of age, entered the apart

this outline, no notion can be formed of the real inte. ment, swinging his velvet cap and plume with a most neg. rest of the story. The incidents are adroitly managed ligent and easy air, and walked up to his lady.

and well chosen. Some beautiful sketches of man vers ••• Baron Fitz-Walter approaches the castle!!

are also introduced. The style is full of quaintness, At these words the delighted Matilda bastily threw aside the scarf, and desired Edward to send her attendant

ll and often of affectation, but it is spirited. As a spe.

cimen of the dialogue take the following. It is dread. ||". Then is she no better than a mistress, for she will be fully deformed with puns, but Walter is a cockney

|| a kept woman when thou espousest her.'

"But, mother says, marriage will change me.' wit, and Gilbert a cock ney bult:

56 • Marry, then, for thou art sure to be a gainer!" 66 «Thou art a brave man, Gilbert, in verity a brave man; || " • And, besides, she thinks it will fix my wandering disbut truly, now, where didst thou find this same courage, Il position.' which hath induced thee to declare thyself an intended | 1.". Doubtless, Gilbert, for thy wise will make thee keep husband ?' These words uttered in a merry, bantering | the house as well as herself. Is she industrious ?' strain, were addressed by Walter Hardie, a stout, robust

66 • Oh, very!' said Gilbert, counting upon his fingers, young man, with a countenance full of health and good | . She makes the best black-puddings I ever tasted, and humour, embrowned by the suns of five-and-twenty butter, cheese, and preserves, and works well at her summers, to Gilbert, surnamed the Gosling, his junior

needle, and by three or four years, a simple swain, of a pale complexion,

" • Enough, enouxh! That last qualification is worth all light blue eyes and straight faxen hair, hanging down his

the blood in the black-puddings, the cream in the butter, shoulders.

the milk in the cheese, and the sugar in the preserves; "• Lord! Walter, thou’rt such a wag !' cried Gilbert, in ll for, if she be ever so bad, there are at least hopes of her a soft, drawling tone, hanging his head a little on one side, mending, and that thy estate and thy doublet will never with his hands crossed in front, and twisting one thumb be out at elbows. over the other; and then thou makest one laugh so. I

" • Then, Walter, thou think'st I may take her to wife ?' forget when thou told'st the merry tale of the Il " 6 Why how long hast thou run alone!' Dog and the Giblets, when Nick and Jasper supped with |

"• Mother says I used to twaddle in the eleventh month, us at farmer Hedge's, and how thou didst gobble up the | and I was twenty last Lammas-day.' coney pie while we were laughing. I thought I never

* • Body o' me, Gilbert, thy mother did let thee run ere should ha'shut my mouth' again.' And he concluded by ll nature could give thee enough calf, though heaven knows laughing, at least his muscles made a certain motion like ll she made thee calf enough!'” it, but his voice refused the accompaniment of ha! ba! and Whoever the author may be--for the name on the a kind of low quick breathing alone was audible,-this Walter used to call silent approbation. It was this pecu

title page is a feint, we are assured that this work liar way of expressing his joy which obtained him the

I will not discredit any previous fame he may have nickname of Gosling, and if he had never shut his mouth,

acquired. but continued to laugh at Walter's joke, his mirth would have been a very trifling inconvenience, or perbaps enjoyed by himself unnoticed by the rest of the company, for his loudest laugh never exceeded the hissing noise of a simple

Some Account of the late Gilbert Earle, Esq. Written by goose.

Himself. London: C. Knight, 8vo. 1824. 16. Ah ! Gilbert ! quoth Walter, putting his hand upon his companion's shoulder, and looking most comically

Of course, there is no such person now as “Gilbert serious those days of liberty are on the wane; thou’rt

Earle, Esq." because he is asserted to be dead; we are about to quit the company of bachelors, and — Alas! who pretty sure that there never was any such person, bewould have thought thou wouldst have been hanged!' " • Hanged!' ejaculated Gilbert, with a stare of astonish

cause he never lived. He is the fiction of the author's ment.

brain; created merely to be the organ of certain trains " • Hanged!' repeated Walter-Ay, art thou not now

of reflection on humanity, and “human dealings ;" on the very point of slipping thy neck into the noose of an impersonation of sundry “moods of the mind," matrimony-and what's the difference? You are both of you led to the halter--a priest officiates--thou say'st thy

and made to play a part in the great real drama of life. prayers--and art turned off—and must hang together till

Gilbert Earle, Esq. though nobody, is nevertheless what you are dead! dead! dead!

every body has at one time or other been. The incidents " Another silent laugh followed this rude stroke of wit, of his life, (with one exception) and the currents of and he to whom it was addressed, replied in a half interrogative manner

So his feelings, are such as all of us are “heirs to." Thou hast never been in love, I'm sure, Walter?

far they are true to nature and society. We are some66 • What, dost thou not remember when I became ena

what inclined to protest against the melancholy cast moured of a melon-frame, which I used constantly to visit ll of Mr. Earle's character. It approaches now and then every night, till the gardener divorced us by virtue of a large hazel stick, which he laid athwart my shoulders.

to sickliness. This is the fault of the day-but the But'- and here he endeavoured to speak in a more seri

author of the volume is manifestly too highly-gifted ous tone, - brace tight the drum of thine ear, for I will || a person, to enlist himself under the banners of any catechise thee, now answer me : why dost thou marry ?' species of bad taste.

66. To get a wife.'
666 Why, marry, Gilbert, then thou art wrong. At court

“ The Life of the late Gilbert Earle, Esq." is a col. (I say court, because when a man courts, he should have

lection of auto-biographical fragments, supposed to be court authority for courting) they never marry to get a

written in his old age, and under the saddening inwise, but a maid; for when a courtier requireth a wife, he Auences of bitter recollections, and defeated hopes. takes his friend's, that is a ready made wife; now thou seek'st a ready maid-not a wife. Doth the eye of thine

All his misery-all his sickly weariness of the world understanding perceive the distinction ? If so, then art

is ascribed to “one fatal remembrance” of a youthful thou wrong. Hath she beauty ?'

and guilty love. It is this which has thrown its * * Much.'

“bleak shade" over a track of his life, blighting the 66 « Then on thy part it will be a needy match, for thou'rt marvellously in want of that commodity. Hath she mo

warm enthusiasm of youth, and discolouring all the associations of manhood. He first becomes acquainted with Eleanor—the name of his mistres3-at a musical

ney. No

party, where he is struck by the exquisite tenderness of husband. The whole is beautifully and pathetieally her singing, and fascinated by the beauty of her per-| told; but we can give only the concluding passages of son. But he must describe her in his own terms :- | this part of the volume :

" How beautiful I thought Eleanor then-how beautiful || “ The last time we were ever out together, was on an she really was !--and that, too, of a beauty exclusively, || occasion of this kind : when the sky and the earth seemed even strangely, individual. I have, during the course of | alike lighted up by the glories of the setting sun. We my life, seen some women who were her equals, one or two | paused opposite to it at that who, strictly, perhaps, were her superiors, in beauty. But brightness and lively aspect over all within the horizon's I never, either before or since, knew any one, in the least compass. As the sun declines lower, there is an air allied degree like her. Her eye, especially, was such as I never to sadness thrown over the landscape: but it was before

her person. It was a full, beautiful blue eye, ll this, that we stopped to gaze upon its beauties and but with all-with more than all-the fire and power of a | splendour. It was a very little way from the house, for she dark one. I can see it at this moment, beaming on me with was too feeble to walk far. Alas! what a contrast she now the softness of tender affection, with the flashing of pas was to the radiant being whieh I have described. Her forin sionate love. I can see it bright with the fearful brightness was wasted to a fearful thinness, to a degree of attenuation, of agony, subdued in the melancholy mildness of sorrow. indeed, almost unnatural, yet it retained that gracefulness I can see it as it curdled and froze in the coldness and dim of outline and of movement for which it had always been so ness of death! Oh, it is the human eye which bestows remarkable. But it was now the grace of languor, not of creating expression upon the human countenance! It is l elasticity and buoyant youth. The deep red spot burned that which gives the immaterial spirit to actual vision, in the centre of her cheek, the rest of which, as well as which enables us to see the soul. Hence, in all our recol her brow, was of that clear transparent whiteness common lections of one we have loved, it is the look which is ever to her discase. Her eye-that eye whose expression I have the most present, for that places her before us, body and never seen equalled, and which remains so intensely in my mind at once. Yes, I can see her now, her tall and rounded memory-hereye alone appeared unchanged. Yet even this form, possessed beyond all others of that grace of motion was changed. Its brightness still remained, but it had which adds such charm to accuracy of shape, where it ex, an unhealthful glassiness superadded; and it was sunken s, and almost 91

t supplies its place to us, where it does not; Il within its hollow, which took from the power of its glance. her face of more than earthly loveliness, with its bright and gave to it a more saddened expression. She leaned clustering hair, and its clear, pale, pearl-like, complexion, heavily on my arm ; but before we had got far, she comvaried on occasion with a flash of rich blood, of a tint like plained of fatigue, and I supported her to a seat. We that presented by the interstices of the fingers when held I watched together the sun decline, and finally sink below the against the sun; and, above all, the deep and magical effect line of the horizon; we saw the glowing and brilliant coof her general image; all, all' are now before me in that lours which he left in his descent gradually deepen in the full, lavish luxuriance of beauty which was hers when my sky, till all became shadow; while, on the other side, the eyes rested upon her for the first time.

| beauties which the heavens wear by night, grew, first " She was sitting, as I have said, by the side of the harp; vaguely, and then by degrees more strongly, visible. The which gave, as it were, token and remembrance of the ex stars began to glitter one by one, and the firmament became quisite sounds she had drawn from it, and of those she had more distinctly and brightly blue. As the chill of the superadded. She had all the advantages of dress : the per- | night ca

night came on, I pressed Eleanor to go in, but she begged fect and exquisite whiteness of her skin was given to view, her to stay to gaze for the last time on the loveliness of night : full and rounded arm was uncovered, and her bright beauti • I know,' said she, “I never shall come out again; I am ful hair was fastened with a krot of diamonds. I thought so feeble I scarcely could get these few steps, I must cease then she never could be so lovely as when full dressed ; I to attempt it altogether. Let me, then, stay, that I may afterwards thought that in simple unadornment she was Il gaze on all that Nature has of soft, and solemn, and enmore lovely still. But I found the reality to be, (and in a chanting, that the last time my eyes rest on it may be with truly beautiful woman it always is so) that the dress in you. The evening of my life is come-the night is fast apwhich she is before our eyes is that in which we think she proaching-let me look on this emblem of the fate which is looks the best. At night the brilliancy of dress appears so near me ;-and, oh! let me hope that after the agitations to us most suited to her beauty ; in the morning, we be of the day, and the shadows of the nightfall, I may wake to come converts to the plain white gown, and that indescriba the pure, solemn, beautiful serenity of a state like this! She blę loveliness of complexion, which a perfect, but still a | bent her head upon my shoulder, and laid her cheek upon healthy, paleness possesses by daylight ; and, when night || mine-it was hot even unto burning ;-and the wasted and returns again, she again seems to eclipse her simpler self, fleshless fingers, which I held within my own, were dry and and we revert to our former creed.”

ched. But her spirit was unsevered by the body'y illThis description is a little exaggerated both in style

ness; and she prayed to heaven with me that night, for the

last time in that glorious and holiest temple, Nature, with and sentiment, but it is full of talent. Eleanor-un

that calm resignation, that solemn and subdued, but yet asfortunately-happens to be a wife. Her husband was a

sured, bope, which are the best passports to the blessed morose, ignorant, and brutal person, and excessively ill- || immortality for which they implore. behaved to his wife. Of course she hates him, and loves

“ Why do I dwell on these scenes ? Is it that I dread ap

proaching that of death itself? On that, indeed, I cannot Gllbert Earle. We must pass over the curious disquisi

dwell. Life ebbed away in gentle, imperceptible, but sure tions on the platonism of the parties—and omit the gradations. Her mind bad ceased to suffer some time beawful check which that platonism received—just a fore her death, on all points but one-her child. She had month or so before the husband's death. In due course

Il no cause for anxiety concerning it, as regarded itself: but

yet in the last days of her existence abe longed to have with of time they married--but not to happiness nor con

her that being to whom she had given birth, whom she had tent. The memory of their guilt filled them with loved more tenderly, perhaps, if not so fervently, if not so regret and self-reproach. Eleanor falls into a decline, passionately, more purely, than any other upon earth. She and fades slowly away under the touch of disease, and

would speak of her child more and more often as her death

drew near. The last word, indeed, which she distinctly before the daily gaze of her agonized and penitent pronounced was her child's name ; but after articulation

Il parched. But her ep

had ceased, her last look was given to me, her last sigh was 11 peopled it in my heart, were gone for ever. How bitter were breathed upon my lips.”

my feelings, as the well-known quotation rose in my me

mory : I came to the place of my birth,' and I said, the After twenty-six years of absence from his native friends of my youth where are they?' and an echo answered

- where are they?'-I recollected having admired this as land, (for all this had taken place in India,) Gilbert || beautiful, when i

iful, when I first read it-alas! no one knows half its Earle returns to England. The sad changes which had || force who has not had occasion to repeat it as I did.” taken place, and which rendered him a stranger in the The descriptions and reflections of Mr. Earlehomes of his father, is affectingly told. This is the which fill a large portion of the volume are very interview with his sister :

beautiful. We cannot quote them; but there is an epi“ My fears on this head were but too truly accomplished.

sode of the funeral of a young, promising, highly-gifted When I drove up to the housc, my sister was waiting on

companion of his boyliood, which is equal in pathos the steps to receive me, and in a moment I was in her | and nature to that exquisite poem of Wilson-" The arms. When, after some time, we drew back to gaze upon Scholar's Funeral.” each other; there was indeed cause for pain. We could not expect that we should be unchanged: we knew that Time ||

Amongst other melancholy pleasures he turns to the must have done his usual work; but still we lived in each | journals, and letters of his brother Frederick. Some other's recollection just as we had parted, and the reality of these letters are given, which tell the story of a was scarcely the less sad from its having been, in a great

| beautiful and innocent country girl-first seduceddegrec, foreseen. The same smile, indeed--a smile never to be forgotten-still played in my sister' eye and lip; but

then glittering among troops of admirers, and basking the eye was sunken, and the lip grown thin; and the smile in the love of her protector. The finale may be itself was sadder and more aged, like the frames and hearts imagined :of both of us. The full, blooming cheek was grown bollow and pale; and the luxuriant and beautiful bair, for which “ As I pursued my way homeward, I met several of these my sister had been remarkable, was entirely hidden, if, l unhappy creatures coming out of the door of a spirit-shop indeed, it still remained, by the widow's cap, which she had || in one of the courts. They were shouting and laughing, worn ever since her husband's death. This, and the gown with the scream-like laugh of drunken recklessness and of dark grey, which was likewise, I found, her constant at. || desperation. The foremost of the group, who seemed the tire, completed the contrast with the light-hearted, bril loudest and wildest of them all, seized the skirt of my coat, liant, blooming, beautiful girl whom I had left. For my as I was passing, and exclaimed in the common phrase, and sell, I believe I was suiliciently changed also. My period sickening accent of her class, Take me along with you.' I of ab-ence had been passed under a burning sun, and my | drew my coat from her hold, and walked on rapidly; but she figure and my face bore ample marks of its corroding in || followed me, calling out from time to time in the language fluence. All the mental suffering, too, which I had under of coarse and hardened vice. Aster I had got some way, gone had given aid to the work of climate. I had left home she caught hold of me a second time, and I had some diffia tall, florid, athletic boy of eighteen : I returned a withered, culty in shaking her off. I saw that she was drunk, which worn-out man of forty-five, thin even to leanness, and my added to her boldness, and defiance of the consequences and whole frame nerveless and relaxed. My cheek was of that control which such people usually hold in dread. When I yellow, waxen colour, which long dwelling in a burning cli- || again proceeded, she again followed, saying, " Ah, I know

I my white hairs were fast outnumbering Il you, I know you very well, and you know me, too, though those which retained their original darkness. My sister you won't own me now; you were glad enough to do so and I read in each other's looks the shock we had mutually once!' I took no notice of this, as it is one of their comreceived, and we walked silently together into the house. mon exclamations; till, at last, she said, “Yes, yes, I know

" The long conversation I had with my sister, tended in you very well, Major Earle !' I stopped short at once, no degree to remove the sadness which all these circum in extreme surprise. I had no idea how such a person could stances had caused. Her subdued and melancholy manner have become possessed of my name, and, of course, had chewed, that the hand of sorrow had been upon her also, Il very little pleasure in the discovery. I stopped and turned that all her feelings were changed and saddened, except only || round to look at her. She now attempted to run oft, but I her attection for me. I made enquiry for all those who were seized her by the arm, determined to be satisfied as to who connected, in my recollection, with the dear home to which she was, and how she came to know me. We were now in I had returned. One answer served for nearly all : He is | Leicester-square,

Leicester-square, and I drew ber under one of the lamps; dead.' Of all the servants of the family, all the retainers, but she hung her head down forcibly upon her breast, and who are always so numerous about a large country house, pulled her bonnet over her eyes. Who are you?' I asked, who had been my allies in my boyish sports, and who had so and how upon earth came you to know my name?' She servently bidden God to bless my parting step, not one re

lent. I repeated my question once or twice. still no mained to welcome my return. All the villagers, too, who answer. Who are you?' I said again; I am determined had been most connected with the great house,' who had to know who you are, and how you know who I am, before I paid their court by making their landlord's children share let go my hold. Who are you?' I felt her tremble under in the merriment of their harvest-home, and the joyous- U my hand, as in a voice which proved she was comple ness of their Christmas carol; those, too, who had been my sobered at once, she at last said, but still without looking mother's pensioners, and to whom she had made us the dis up, It is no wonder you don't remember me, Major pensers of her bounty, that she might train our young Earle; who, indeed, could ? and yet you knew me well hearts to the exalted pleasure of doing good; all these, as | once." I still had no idea who it was that spoke to me. I made enquiry for them one by one, I was told had disap She continued in a yet lower and more broken tone. "Though peared from the scene : and, of course, those who had risen Dallas is dead, surely you have not forgotten bim ! up to fill their places could feel no interest for me. My re “ Never, no never, in my life, did I experience a more collections of home had not been confined to the physical violent and sickening shock. Gracious heaven! and this scene alone, they had naturally included the images of those || was the creature whom I remembered in her young purity who dwelt there ; and it now seemed almost a mockery to || and loveliness, whom I had so often seen surrounded with be restored to the spot itself, and to find that all who had || all that luxury and wealth could furnish for her pleasure, at whose table, as I may call it, I had so often sat in the || during the present week. Munden, on Monday evening, midst of troops of admiring and flattering friends, whom I had what is called, in theatrical phrase, “a bumper;" which had left, not four years since, the adored, almost the idolized, | means, that the house was crowded up to the very slips beobject of affection to a man who was one of the most feeling, fore the curtain rose. This is delightiul. It is a tribute to generous, and noble of created beings!

the respectability of the man: it evinces the generous at“ I had striven, since my last return from abroad, to ob tachment of the public. It is sor him a glorious crowning tain some tidings of poor, poor Susan; but in vain. Dal to forty years spent amidst all the follies, all the temptalas's death was so sudden that he left no will : so she sank tions, and all the obloquy of a theatrical life, that he can reat once from splendid wealth to absolute destitution ; for Il tire with the honourable testimonies of reverence and rebis friends (no-his relations) would do nothing for one on gard from such “ troops of friends.” Wbat a sad contrast whom they had always looked with dislike and fear. Would, between Munden's fortunes, and those of some others, oh would to God! that I had been here. She who had been whose talents (in a different line) are perhaps greater, but dear to Dallas should not have been treated thus.

whose moral obliquities have degraded them from their “ All this passed across my mind in one instant, as the high stations, and driven them (if report speak truth) into poor wretch raised her face to the light, as she spoke. discreditable exile. Munden selected for his benefit the Heavens ! what a face it was! Her eyes were bleared and characters of Sir Robert Bramble and Duzcy. He never red at the edges, and the balls were glazed with recent played better in either; and yet we are glad that he chose drunkenness. She had, it is true, recovered her senses ; this moment for retiring, whilst all his faculties are unimbut her eye still reeled, and her breath still reeked, with paired, and before the slightest falling off of his merit has the effects of that poisonous debauchery. If there be, in been perceived. No one can say of him, as it was said of the human shape, one object more revolting, degrading, Kemble and many others,—“ Oh! if you had but seen him and humiliating than another, it is that of a drunken in his best days!" woman !--and it was now presented to my eyes in the person Those who saw Munden last week saw him in his best of one whom I had known in all the delicacy of female days. Age has thrown a rich mellowness about his peryouth, who had been the first and only love of my first and formance which is inexpressibly delightful. His humour best friend. Her cheek was fallen and hollowed, and an is as effective and his pathos more touching than in younger unwholesome, sodden paleness, which overspread the lower and sprightlier days. Fare thee well! Joe Munden-thou part of it, was made almost hideous by the contrast of a hast been to us a delight and a solace amidst many bitter large blotch of coarse red paint which was plastered upon Il vicissitudes, and the recollection of thee will be a each cheek bone. Of her figure I could see nothing; for spot in the retrospect of our life. she was wrapped to the throat in a large shawl which fell Miss Stephens on Tuesday had a very thronged house ; over nearly her whole person, in folds in which grease, dirt, and Harley's bencfit (Wednesday) was numerously attend and dripping wet seemed to struggle for supremacy. I ed. Their Sandwich Majesties visited this theatre last never beheld a more pitiable being !!!

night, but we have no time, nor is there any necessity, for She dies. The remainder of the volume is filled with

our making any further remarks on this visit.

Covent Garden.-On Monday evening, “ Tirahee Tirameditations on the vast alterations which had taken

| hee,” with bis Queen and suite, attended the representation place in the manners, dress, sentiments, and persons of of Pizarro at this theatre. We were quite surprised at their England. They are extremely well written, and are appearance and manners. The newspapers have been cutcharged with a high degree of feeling. Indeed the

ting jokes upon these “ illustrious strangers” for the last

fortnight, and have excited not a little merriment by ludiwhole book is full of delicate and strong touches of crous descriptions of their domestic amusements. Now sentiment and passion. We have no means of guessing we never saw more respectable-looking, or more decentlyat the author--but we suspect that he is one of that behaved people, in our lives. Their complexions are rather

6 begrimed," it is true, but their manners are as fair as clever legion of young men who sustained the reputa

those of any royal family breathing. The King is a genteel tion of “the Etonian," and now contribute to its portly-looking personage, very much like Mr. Bartley excellent successor.

playing Othello. He was more of a king, and a great deal more of a gentleman, than Mr.- who performed the

Peruvian monarch in Pizarro. The Queen is what is DRAMA.

called “a strapper," that is, she is about six feet four inches high, somewhat resolute in her visage, and is what

may be termed "a manly sort of woman." She laughed Kings Theatre. - During the present week, Madame heartily when the guards stabbed Orozambo, and so did we : Pasta has repeated her performances of Desdemona and she wept a little over the sorrows of Cora and her child, Tancredi. We have nothing to remark in addition to our h we did not. The suite (including Mr. Poodle Byng) former criticisms on these characters, unless it be that the behaved with all proper decorum, and did infinite credit to huskiness in the lower tones of this lady's voice appears to the politeness of the Sandwich court. The house was by have considerably increased since her arrival in England. no means crowded to receive their Majesties: but if the At first, it was ascribed to a cold; but we suspect it to be a company within was few and select, that without was nudefect inherent in the voice, though more apparent at one merous and not select. period than at another.

On Tuesday evening, an unpleasant accident happened to Ronzi de Begnis. One of the scenes fell, and wounded her BENEVOLENT FUND FOR RELIEVING THE WI. in the head, so severely, as to render it necessary for the

DOWS AND ORPHANS OF ARTISTS. opera to be continued with the omission of her part of Amenaide. We have learned that the effects of the accident

Instituted, March, 1810. have already nearly disappeared. Nothing which occurs to this lady can fail to interest the public; and it is gratifying | The Fifteenth Anniversary Dinner of this Institution will to know that she will presently return to us with all her be held this day at Freemasons' Hall, his Royal Highness wealth of talent, beauty, and feeling.

Prince Leopold in the chair. We regret that the address, Drury-Lane.-The benefits have begun at this theatre, l which has been printed by the Committee, had not reached and are proceeding at a very rapid rate; no less than four us before, as we should have inserted it in the present

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