brown, even though they be dough. Mr. Alfred Bunn has been over estimated by the American press. It is all fol-derol to prate about such a man lecturing on the genius of Shakspeare. He has not the genius to appreciate the writings of the immortal bard. Twice have I listened attentively and impartially to his best efforts in his happiest moods, and I am not unkind nor unjust, when I pronounce both efforts utter failures. Not one new sentiment did he offer. There was not a gleam of originality in his lectures. What he did present, has been presented a thousand times before, and a thousand times better. Then his voice is thick and hazy, so that you cannot understand much that he says. While you look at him you seem to be listening to a voice from one of the ante-chambers, and when he quotes Shakspeare, he spoils the passage by the theatrical and forced gestures which accompany his quotations. abounds in puns, quips, quirks, jokes, bon mots, and anecdotes; and if you do not laugh at them, you certainly must laugh to see him laugh at them himself-besides, he has been the manager of the very theatre where Garrick and Sheridan amused an empire, and he has been personally acquainted with Lamb, and Smith, and Matthews, and has had large experience in London Life. I have no doubt he is an agreeable companion, lighting up the social circle with the sunshine of his goodnature. As the manager of a play house, I venture the remark, that he was judicious, liberal, and honorable. Mr. Bunn said that one of the admirers of the genius of Shakspeare, wrote in a legible hand over a

He

glass case containing the works of the great Poet, the follow ing notice. To Authors, "Thou shalt not steal." To Critics and Commentators, "Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbor." To Actors, "Thou shalt do no murder."

Since the foregoing was written, this "hot cross bun" has published a volume, in which he has caricatured some and flattered others. A cotemporary speaking of Bunn's sketch of Moses Kimball, says :—

"We apprehend that should Mr. Bunn again visit the 'Little Yankee Theatre,' he will be served worse than he was by Macready, at Drury Lane, a few years ago. 'Smith, the box-office feller,' doubtless would assist the 'lusty looking fellow,' Kimball in a boot demonstration.

"Mr. Bunn's book is a mere record of 'hotel-bills,' vainglorious accounts of his lectures, flippant anecdotes, and useless descriptions. What is new in it is not true, and what is true is not new. As we last week hinted, the story of his intercourse with Mr. Kimball, of the Museum, is a fabrication from beginning to end; the best of it is, he puts the genuine cockney dialect into Kimball's mouth."

Here is the sketch :

"Take a seat,' said he; 'I'm d-d if I ain't glad to see yer; heard a deal on yer; read all yer works, and so I'll tell yer how I've got along.'

"When I observed that I had but a few minutes to stay, he replied

"D-n that; it won't take yer long. I was formerly a

merchant, and made bad affairs on it; but seein' a way o gettin' on agin' I started fresh; first of all at Gleason's, now the pictur' gallery; saw a better chance, and got a feller to build the Museum-my own idea. Barnum copied after me. I could tell yer many things, how I hit, and how I missed; but the first great "go" was the "Temperance Reform " piece; I made a sort of "Tom and Jerry" affair on it; lugged into the piece a young fellow, a quiet, modest person at starting, but who turned out a h―ll of a drunkard; and then, I had a sort of Logic man to go about with 'un, just to try and keep 'un in order, and a Yankee chap to make some fun. We put the thing together among ourselves; and I made Smith my manager-he's a capital feller, though he can't act; but anything 'll-so I made Smith play the hero.

"In order to create a proper feeling among the sober classes, I loaned about fifteen black coats, bought as many white chokers, and dressed up fifteen fellers in 'em, to look like parsons, and put 'em in the most conspicuous part of the house; and thus we managed to hook in all the clergy and Christian soft-mouths. The piece drew all h-1; we played it sometimes four times a day-on Christmas Day we played it six times, beginning at nine in the morning.'"

No one who knows Mr. Kimball will believe this, nor what follows. We omit the profanity which he puts into the manager's mouth :—

"Here I rose to take my leave. Wait a minute-I'll tell what I did wi' yer! That 'Bohemian Gal' o' yourndidn't we go ahead wi' her? I kept in all the situations,

yer

sent the music to smash, threw in a couple of Dromios for my low comedians, and away we went like fun!'

"We literally shrieked with laughter when he added: 'Ay, and I shall do the same with your Enchantress, if I can pick up a couple of funny chaps.'

"I naturally asked him how much he paid per annum for his literature, when he answered: About twelve and a half cents every packet that arrives. I get all the last pieces from England-the cheap editions as Lacy publishes; and as soon as they come to hand, I and Smith, and the box-office feller, set to work, and lick a bad piece into good shape in no time!'"

PETER CARTWRIGHT.

THE great Western preacher has arrived and is now searching the well-thumbed Bible for his text. Quite a number of distinguished divines are present. The preacher looks like a backwoodsman, whose face has been bronzed at the plough. His black hair, straggling seven ways for Sunday, is slightly tinged with the frost of age. A strip of black silk is twisted around his neck, and a shirt collar, scrupulously clean, is turned down over it. He is of ordinary size, dresses plainly, and looks like a man perfectly free from affectation. In a faltering voice he reads a hymn. The. choir wed the words to sweet and solemn music, a fervent prayer goes up on the wings of faith-another hymn is read

and sung-the 12th verse of the 11th chapter of Matthew is selected for his text. Now the old pioneer preacher, who has waded swamps, forded rivers, threaded forests, travelled with Indians, fought with bears and wolves, preached in the woods and slept in the field or on the prairie at night, is standing before us. Look at him, ye gentlemen with white neckcloths and black coats, who ride in carriages over smooth roads to supply churches with cushioned pews and soft benches to kneel on. How would you like to labor for nothing among wild beasts, and board yourselves, in a climate where the ague shakes the settlers over the grave two-thirds of the year 8 Would you exchange your fat livings, and fine palaces, and unread libraries for black bread and dry venison, a log hut and the society of bears and blue-racers? God bless the brave, wise, and good men to whom we are so much indebted for the blessings we enjoy.

He says he would make an apology if he thought it would enable him to preach better, for he is afflicted with a severe cold. "Some folks," said he, "say I am fifty years behind the age. God knows," he continued, "I am willing to be a thousand behind such an age. Religion is always of age, and can talk and run without stilts or silver slippers." He concluded an able and interesting discourse, which elicited undivided attention, with the following fact. "During a splendid revival of religion at the west, a young preacher, manufactured in one of your theological shops out here, came to lend a helping hand. I knew he could not handle Methodists' tools without cutting his fingers, but he was very