nian humour, he is entitled to the Shamrock of the stage. Some of the mimick sons of St. Patrick

"Have been kind to the brogue, while they murdered the jest;" but in him, what is a thundering jest to the audience appears to be uttered with such nature and simplicity, that in truth he blunders without knowing it. This is the strict keeping of character; the test of theatrical excellence.

Wilmot's "Dan" has been justly commended in other criticism. His personation was very correct. Can he not cure his voice of some of its monotony? Mere nature will often modulate the expression of passion, better than oratory. Clowns are the children of nature.

"Francis Rochdale" is one of Mr. Jones's happiest efforts. Filial affection, high honour, love and jealousy are the features of this character. Those, who have seen the play, will not need to be told, that the transitions of these passions and principles were chastely and deeply marked. This gentleman has one excellence in common with Mr. Bernard; speaking, or silent, he is always in character. In New-York, the character was so indifferently portrayed, that the manager is advised to expunge as much of it, as the plot could spare from the play. Here, it is one of the most prominent personages of the drama. In some passages, however, Mr. Jones was guilty of a precipitancy, not warranted by the impulse of the scene; but in a great proportion of the character, his illustration of the sentiment and soul of his author was luminous indeed. If we mistake not, the powers of this gentleman are well cul

tivated, and might soar far beyond the flight of young Rochdale.

In the "Hon. Tom Shuffleton," we hand Mr. Wilson, for the first time, to our readers; and (all cavillings and barkings to the contrary notwithstanding) we do affirm, that he merited a very liberal exercise of the publick favour; and that his conception of the character was much more correct, than that of some of his criticks. Scribblers should recollect, (not unless they have previously understood,) that "Shuffleton" is a compound of Bond-street fashion and Godwin's " political justice." He is no less a disciple of the beau monde, than of the profound "Stupeo." This intermixture of character is well preserved by Mr. Wilson. The thing is a caricature, and he has hit it exquisitely. The spleen of some criticks against this performer is almost ludicrous. In "Sir Benjamin Backbite," he is reprehended for his rouge! In "Durimel," he is commended for wearing little or none! Mr. Barrett is also quizzed for using a white handkerchief in "Charles Surface!" The use of a handkerchief is surely not the objection; Barrett may quote Smith and Palmer for that. By my troth then, the critick's senses are offended at the colour of it. Pray, Barrett, appease his classical wrath, and change your laundress! To such a critick we shall only say,

"Not the splenetick scowl, from e'en Stagyrite's eyes,
Nor the frown, which, in trifles, looks sulky and wise,
Constitute the great Critick. Poh, psha, pr'ythee, pish;
Take this tete de veau off, put some beef in the dish." *

In "Caroline Braymore," Mrs. Powell had little to exhibit, but the elegant frivolity of dress and fashion. The character was not worthy of the talent, she possesses, nor of the esteem, the publick entertains of her. But her taste embellished the ́ shadows of the author's thought, and snatched applause beyond the reach of the half-drawn original.

Mr. Barrett's "Peregrine" and Mrs. Jones's "Mary" have both very much improved since the first night. They occupy a wide space in the publick estimation of the play. Mr. Barrett, we think, infused into his part some just discriminations of sense, and many fine sprinklings of feeling. The talent of Mrs. Jones has charmed us in so many walks, both of comedy and opera, that we scarcely know what line to fix upon as her greater excellence. With sentimental comedy she has been less familiar; but she is not the less eminent. The interesting loveliness of person, and melodious tenderness of simple expression, required in "Mary," were the very characteristicks of Mrs. Jones. In relating her story to "Peregrine," the description of her elopement from her father's house, honours both her judgment and feeling. She is the very picture of desolate grief,

"And seems, as the tears o'er her eyelids are creeping;

Like a willow, that grows for the purpose of weeping."