is it you?-you have practised every piece on the stage, one would think-and the Contrivances has not escaped you." "My name is not Henry, sir-my name is John." "Well, Master John then, I beg your pardon, but you have been at Rover I see." "No, sir, I never saw or heard of the Contrivances till this night's performance." • You cant say so," said the other, "you have learned that song before, assuredly!" "Upon my word it is a truth, sir; I never heard it before tonight." "Do me the favour to hum it over again for me," said the musician. Hodgkinson complied. 66 Why you have the words of the song as well as the air.” "Of one verse only, sir: but the next time, I shall catch the whole of it." The musician expressed his astonishment, and asked the boy where he lodged; to which John replied, "Off this way, sir," and ran away as fast as he could to Broad-mead, where he was resolved it should not be known, for sometime, at least, that he had any connexion with the theatre.

When he reached his hospitable landlord and family, he found that they had all been in great consternation at his absence. He had that morning spoken to his friend John the ostler, about selling his silver buckles, in order to pay his bill, and the generous souls were all afraid that he was in distress. "Hast thee eat nothing since breakfast," said the good man; "Lauk! why thee must be famished-what bewitched thee to stay away from thy meals, child," cried the wife," tis very bad for a young thing like thee to fast," said another: and numberless other kind and tender expostulations were uttered by the good people one and all, while ostler John who was more frightened about him than any of them, and could not get the naughty players out of his head, coming in said with affectionate surliness, "Soh! thee'st come back, be thee?-Ecod thee deservst to ha thee jacket trimmed, so thee dost-a young tuoad like thee to stay out, God knows where, to this time o' night?" "Dont be angry John," replied our adventurer, "dont be angry-and as to trimming, John, it is not in thy jacket, to trim my jacket

John-so go to your hayloft and dont make a fool of thyself!" In saying this he mimicked John's clownish lingo so nearly that the family burst out laughing, and John went off, growling out that he believed the devil or his imps the player fellers had got possession of the boy.

"John is thy friend," said the landlord, "he was quite down o' the mouth about thee." "And I love and thank John," said Hodgkinson, "but I could not help making fun of him for his talking of beating me. I accidentally met with a friend who offered to bring me to the play, and I was so glad I never thought of dinner." "Well come now," then said the good man," pay away upon that beef-lay in dinner and supper at once, my boy, and thee shall have a cann of as good yeal as any in Somersetshire, and moreover than all that it shall cost thee nothing but the trouble of drinking itso here's to thee, my boy." The worthy man drank, and his wife drank, and son and daughter, and all drank, and H. told them all about the play, and sung, "Make haste and away my only dear," for them, to their great delight. He was then too innocent and too young to direct it to the young lady of the house, or it is more than probable that she would have been more delighted with it, than any of them.

The next morning early he waited on Mr., the prompter, who told him that Mr. K- desired that he would keep about the theatre, and make himself as useful as he could in anything that might occur, till something could be done for him. He accordingly attended it diligently, examining and watching every thing done and every body that did it, and storing his young mind with useful knowledge of the profession. What his pittance was, he never told this writer, who therefore concludes it must have been very small, particularly as he sold his buckles, and plumed himself upon not parting with the silver seal given him by his old friend at Manchester.

(To be continued.)

* The name is entirely forgotten by the biographer.

BARRY, THE PLAYER.

The following description of the person and acting of the celebrated BARRY the player is introduced here, to accompany the life of Hodgkinson, because a clear recollection of the former in a multitude of characters, a long and scrutinous investigation of the professional powers of the latter, and an intimate knowledge of both of them, has long established in our minds the unalterable opinion that of all the performers who make up the feeble crowd that have followed the men of Garrick's day in sad procession, not one so nearly trod in the footsteps of Barry (sed heu longo intervallo) as Hodgkinson. Whatever may have been said of his comedy, we never could contemplate it with half the satisfaction we received from some of his tragic performances. His Osmond, his De Moor, and his Romeo were infinitely superior to his Belcour, Ranger, and Ollapod. And his Jaffier unquestionably stood next to Barry's. We know nothing of Mr. Young, therefore do not mean to include him in this position, though seeing and hearing what we every day see and hear, of the present facility of pleasing in England, we receive the encomiums of the other side of the Atlantic on their passing favourites cum grano salis. In a word, we are persuaded that Hodgkinson came nearer to Barry in Barry's line, than any actor now living does to Garrick, Barry, or Mossop in theirs. In Faulconbridge, and in it alone he was perhaps equal to Barry.

SPRANGER BARRY was in his person above five feet eleven inches high, finely formed, and possessing a countenance in which manliness and sweetness of feature were so happily blended, as formed one of the best imitations of the Apollo Belvidere. With this fine commanding figure, he was so much in the free and easy management of his limbs, as never to look encumbered, or present an ungraceful attitude, in all his various movements on the stage. Even his exits and entrances had peculiar graces, from their characteristic ease and simplicity. What must have greatly assisted Barry in the grace and ease of treading the stage, was his skill in dancing and fencing; the first of which he was early in life very fond of; and, on his coming to England, again instructed in, under the care of the celebrated Denoyer, dancing

master to Frederick Prince of Wales's family. This was done at the prince's request after he had seen him play in lord Townley, in the Provoked Husband. In short when he appeared in the scene, grouped with other actors of ordinary size, he appeared as much above them in his various qualifications as in the proud superiority of his figure.

So, when a well-grac'd actor leaves the stage,

All eyes are idly bent on him who follows next."

To this figure he added a voice so peculiarly musical as very early in life obtained him the character of " the silvertoned Barry," which, in all his love scenes, lighted up by the smiles of such a countenance, was persuasion itself. Indeed, so strongly did he communicate his feelings on these occasions, that whoever observed the expressive countenances of most of the female part of his audience, each seemed to say, in the language of Desdemona,

"Would that Heaven had made me such a man."

Yet, with all this softness, it was capable of the fullest extent of rage, which he often most powerfully exemplified, in several passages of Alexander, Orestes, Othello, &c.

We are aware of Churchill's criticism in the Rosciad standing against us, where he says, "his voice comes forth like Echo from her cell." But however party might have cried up this writer as a poet and a satirist of the first order, Goldsmith had the sense and manliness to tell them what they called satires were but tawdry lampoons, whose turbulence aped the quality of force, whose frenzy that of fire. Beside, Churchill had a stronger motive than prejudice or whim the great hero of his poem was Garrick; and as Barry was his most formidable rival, he had little scruple to sacrifice him on this occasion.

But to leave the criticisms of this literary drawcansir to that oblivion to which they seem to be rapidly hastening, let

us examine the merits of Barry in some of those characters in which he was universally allowed to excel; and on this scale we must give the preference to Othello. This was the first character he ever appeared in, the first his inclination prompted him to attempt-and the first without question, that exhibited his genius in the full force and variety of its powers.

In the outset of Othello, when he speaks but a few short sentences, there appears a calmness and dignity in his nature, as evidently show "the noble qualities of the Moor." These sentences we have often heard spoken (and by actors too who have had considerable reputation) as if they had been almost totally overlooked; reserving themselves for the more shining passages with which this tragedy so much abounds: but Barry knew the value of these introductory traits of character, and in his first speech, "'Tis better as it is," bespoke such a preeminence of judgment, such a dignified and manly forbearance of temper, as roused the attention of his audience, and led them to expect the fullest gratification of their wishes.

His speech to the senate was a piece of oratory worthy the attention of the critic and the senator. In the recital of his "feats of broils and battles," the courage of the soldier was seen in all the charms of gallantry and heroism; but when he came to those tender ejaculations of Desdemona,

In faith 'twas strange-'twas passing strange! 'Twas pitiful, 'twas wond'rous pitiful!"

his voice was so melodiously harmonized to the expression, that the sigh of pity communicated itself to the whole house, and all were advocates for the sufferings of the fair heroine.

In the second act, when he meets Desdemona at Cyprus, after being separated in a storm, his rushing into her arms, and repeating that fine speech,

"Oh! my soul's joy!

If after every tempest come such calms," &c.