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Hamlet," replied with a smile, “ Yes, Tom I believe you STRUCK out all the beauties that were ever discovered in it."

Mr. Allen, as Don Alonzo, was very great. I wish we had seen more of him. He merely came on the stage, spoke a few words, and was killed outright. “ He sparkled, was exhal’d, and went to heaven!” His dying scene has had no equal. He writhed ten times as much as Cooke, and shook his leg for a minute by my stopwatch, my lord.”—This same Mr. Allen is a very extraordinary character. He is so deaf that he cannot hear a word, and never begins to speak until he sees that his companion's lips are quiet. He was once placed in an awkward situation by the late Mr. Mills, who, for the sake of a joke, kept his lips in motion, after his speech was over, and set poor Allen wondering what in the name of nonsense he could be making such a long discourse about!

But the “Sons of Apollo" distinguished themselves beyond all precedent. A gentleman who has heretofore been the barber of the theatre, and who, on this occasion, was named “ Mr. Allspice,” sang one of the first songs; but that diffidence common to all juvenile adventurers disconcerted him when he got half through it, and he stopped short in an unfortunate place:- just as he had risen nearly up to the top of a high note, his voice snapt like the treble string of a fiddle!!

Mr. Allspice was succeeded by another amateur who, like himself, kept his seat at the table, around which the “Sons of Apollo" had placed themselves, and most manfully struck up some outlandish song which the audience took the liberty of hissing before he got through the first stanza. On hearing this inhospitable sound, our musical hero with perfect composure instantly stopped, determined not to throw away his “ sweet harmony" upon us, who



Would rather hear a brazen candlestick turn'd
Or a dry wheel grate on the axle-tree,
Than one of these same metre ballad mongers.

The last of this unequalled trio was another Alexander the Great in music and impudence. He marched valorously to the front of the stage, and having made a ponderous bow, bending his long lank body from the hips, in a manner which it would puzzle Hogarth himself to describe, he began the song of “ Dorge Barn. vell stoot at de sop tore," with a lisp which imparted to it an effect peculiarly sublime and picturesque. The audience, however, (shallow rogues!) were satisfied with the introductory couplet. Their taste was formed on the singing of Webster, and they could not relish this—so a pretty strongly expressed disapprobation testified their feelings. But is a hero to be disconcerted by the rabble? Never! “ The torrent roar'd,” and Dorge Barnvell “ did buffet it.” He proceeded until he thought “ his fruitless words were wasted in the air," and then, folding his arms, stood and looked down with sovereign contempt upon his opposers. All now became « confusion worse confounded." The uproar was tremendous, and lasted about five minutes; and, in the mean time, Mr. Webster left his seat and tried to prevail on the hero to retire, but without effect:-the modest Mr. Jacobs did the same, with as little effect: but at last the ill treated Dorge Barnvell began to “boo,” and after “ booing and booing," seven or eight times, to less purpose than Sir Pertinax did, he became wearied, and turning his back to the audience clasped his hands together, and making a gesture which seemed to signify that he meant to put them aside as not worth pleasing, retired with perfect sang froid to his seat.

I assure you, Mr. Editor, that I was sorry to see my friend Dorge give up his point. In New York there is an old politician who is often interrupted in the midst of his harangues to the people, as our hero was; but he invariably overcomes them by the following address:"Hearers, there are but two animals that hiss; the goose and the serpent. Pray, to which of these tribes do you belong?"_I hope if the blushing genius in question shall ever again be placed in the same predicament, he will profit by this example.

The farce of Rosina concluded the entertainments of the evening -Oh, Mr. Editor, I wish you had been present!—I sat at one corner of the second row of boxes, and could see both before and behind the scenes!-Webster was manager, and for his exertions (fruitless as they were) to manage well, he deserves great credit. The performers, like Macbeth's ghosts, would “come like shadows, so depart.” One would enter at one wing, and one at another, and, looking round, find that they were wrong, then both retiring, a sort of interregnum of five or six minutes would succeed. Webster, in the mean time, was behind, wringing his hands, stamping his feet, (a manager in distress!) and every minute or two vociferating, “ Come off,"__" You're on in the scene;"-and, to crown the whole, he appeared a moment after

wards in the wrong scene himself!—but shaking his head three times, and lifting up both hands, he slowly retired with all the dig. nity and importance of a second Burleigh.*

At length, however, they made out to muster a chorus. The audience joined in the finale,

“ This is nature's holiday," and the green curtain dropped amid reiterated shouts and applauses. The audience, highly diverted, now left their seats, and all seemed to think

“They could have better spar'd a better play.” I was half way down to Market-street, when a loud huzzaing and laughing in the theatre induced me to hurry back. When I reached the boxes, I saw Mr. Webster on the stage, attempting to make himself heard. As soon as the people became silent, he exclaimed with great rapidity, and almost out of breath,

Ladies and Grntlemen-the entertainment is not over-this is only the end of the first act-the scene shifters have made a mistakethey let down the green curtain instead of the drop-have a little patience, and you shall hear another act."

This was a more comical incident than any of the others, and exclaiming with one consent, “Go on-Go on!" the audience resumed their places, and laughed at a repetition of the ludicrous blunders by which they had just been entertained.

And now, Mr. Editor, I know you must be well nigh tired of my narrative, and that, with your readers, you wish long stories might be abolished on pain of death. I shall give you no farth.er trouble this time, dear sir, but beg you to accept the good wishes of


* See the Critic, by Sheridan.

Communicated from Baltimore.

BALTIMORE CIRCUS. Messrs. PEPIN and BRESCHARD have connected themselves with Mr. BEAUMONT, the actor, and under their joint management a number of disaffected performers have engaged at the Circus, which is now made a place of “ ENTERTAINMENT BY MAN AND Horse.” The first play was acted on Wednesday, the 6th of November, to upwards of four hundred dollars. While the riding is kept up, however, the theatrical part of the establishment never can prove attractive, because the audience is from necessity so remote from the stage as to render it impossible, without a painful exertion, either to see or hear with tolerable distinctness.

The managers of the Circus, since this alteration in their plan, have named it (on what authority I know not) “ The Olympic Theatre.” They opened with Lovers' Vows.

Baron Wildenheim
Count Cassel
Poor Farmer
Rich Farmer

Mr. M'Kenzie


Mestayer (one of the riders )


Agatha Friburgh

Mrs. Bray (late Miss Mullen.)

Cottager's Wife

Country Girl

After which “A Grand display of HORSEMANSHIP and FIREWORKS."

Friday, November 8th. Love à la Mode-Horsemanship-Poor Soldier.
Saturday, November 9th. Village Lawyer-Horsemanship-Don Juan.
Monday, November 11th. (Fennell announced as engaged for a part, and Miss Brobston for

the whole, of the season.) Jaffier, Fennell-Pierre, M*Kenzie-Belvidera, Miss Brobston.

Of The prices of admission are a dollar for the boxes, and half a dollar for the pit.-The eurtain rises at half past six.

I cannot help thinking, Mr. Editor, that this project of uniting theatrical with equestrian performances, may lead to the most dangerous perversion of an amusement, which, in its proper form, is both dignified and instructive. In the present instance no explanations can prevent the public from putting the actors, in the Olympic," on a level with the riders and tumblers, for whom the house was built, and for whose purposes, in its present form, it seems exclusively adapted. I shall dismiss this subject with the following quotation from Lloyd, who .was one of the ablest and most effective vindicators of the stage, and which, it is hoped, all actors will consider deeply.

O ne'er may Folly seize the throne of Taste,
Nor Dullness lay the realms of Genius waste!
No bouncing crackers ape the thunderer's fire,
No tumblers float upon the bending wire!
More natural uses to the stage belong
Than tumblers, monsters, pantomime, or song!,
For other uses was that spot design'd;
To purge the passions and reform the mind,
To give to Nature all the force of Art,
And, while it charms the ear, to mend the heart!

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