ness of ventilation, the want of a matting on the floors up-stairs, and the disgusting arrogance and impudence of the box-keepers, who, we are sorry to hear, farm the seats,-that is, pay so much a week to the Proprietor for their places, and fleece the visitors to make both ends meet! This is a most villanous arrangement.

CITY OF LONDON.-Had Mrs. HONEY still the reins of government here, we should have said much to compliment her. As it is, we can but lament that so pretty, and, till the present time, so well-conducted, a theatre, should have fallen into the hands of OSBALDISTON! Its

fate may now be fully predicted. Small

beer and ardent spirits will be handed round the dress circle, and pipes and tobacco will be in request all over the house. In short, no decent people will visit it, lest they should be robbed or poisoned.

ASTLEY'S. DUCROW commences the war on Monday, with a magnificent Spectacle. His arrangements for the season are on the grandest scale. He is too good a General to require one word of counsel from us. We shall, however, attend from time to time, and enlighten the public on his wonderful achievements.

SURREY.-DAVIDGE, like DUCROW, is one of the best of living managers. He spares no expense, but does every thing on the most liberal scale. Hence the overflow in his treasury. He will astonish the natives' on Monday, with something immense; he has, moreover, many novelties in preparation, and has had the theatre 'decorated and beautified.'

VICTORIA. The proceedings at this house are sui generis; the company is ditto. Decent clothes, and clean shirts, are quite unknown; and if one escapes sitting next to a carcasebutcher, the chance is between him and a greasy Jew-broker. Of course, it is needful to empty one's pockets before entering the theatre, unless it be desirable to have the operation performed by some other party. A glance at the past, confirms these observations; a prospect of the future gives promise of a repetition of the "Entertainments."

GARRICK.-The short time that this pretty theatre has been under the management of Tom PARRY, proves what may be anticipated from his spirited exertions and liberal arrangements. It is, now, certainly one of the best, if not the very best of the minors. It was infamously managed by GOMERSAL and CONQUEST.

PAVILION.-Under YATES' management, this establishment must prosper. He commences operations on Monday, and has the good wishes of all his friends.

SADLER'S WELLS.-This unfortunate establishment-rendered doubly unfortunate by having lately been in the hands of OSBALDISTON, "the mountebank actor"-is again in the market. is in a most filthy state, and requires a second Hercules to cleanse it from its impurities. The

It

smell of porter and tobacco has penetrated the seats of the dress-circle to the depth of three inches,but the said seats are about to be fumigated.

THEATRICAL CHIT-CHAT

The HAYMARKET opens on Monday. During the recess, the interior of this favorite place of amusement has been entirely repainted and decorated in a novel and costly manner. Mesdames CELESTE, GLOVEr, Taylor, WAYLETT, FITZWILLIAM, BERESFORD, SALA, HUMBY, &c.; Messrs. WRENCH, RANGER, BUCKSTONE, STRICKLAND, WEBSTER, HEMMING, &c, are engaged; to whom will be added a beautiful and clever actress, named COOPER, new to London; and SHERIDAN KNOWLES' celebrated pupil, Miss ELPHINSTONE. CELESTE opens the season, and POWER, VESTRIS, (and Charles MATHEWS will play their farewell nights there, previous to their departure for America. A son of Mrs. GLOVER

will also make his debut before a London audience.

Tom LEE is engaged at the City of London, to perform a range of his favorite Irish characters.

The reception of BALLS at Norwich, has been most enthusiastic. He has played a round of his celebrated characters to houses crowded to the ceiling. His performance of Claude Melnotte, in particular, was a master-piece of genius. According to the local newspapers, it was far superior to that of MACREADY.

SURREY ZOOLOGICAL GARDENS.-In consequence of the grand preparations, these Gardens have been closed for the last few days. On Easter Monday, they will reopen with a round of entertainments as novel as they are attractive. The fete will comprise, among other features, the exhibition of MOUNT VESUVIUS, enlarged, and re-produced, with a terrific Eruption from the Crater of the Volcano; the wonderful Russian Air Voyagers; the Bedouin Arabs; a Splendid Marine Temple and Gallery; the Tropical Forest' of wild beasts, &c. &c. A grand military band will also attend; and, of course, "all the world" will be there.

TWO SIMPLE QUESTIONS.

1st.-WHO IS BORN ?

What merry peal of village bells is that which comes floating through the air, as if to give gladness to the hearts of all who hear it? It issues from yonder Gothic embattled tower, that crowns the straggling, uneven gable of the ancient church. We will ask this smiling, country, happy-looking lass, what it all means. Ah, is it even so, my pretty maiden? I wish you the same, with a good husband for yourself. But what is the tale she tells? Oh, quoth she, the lady of the squire, who lives in yonder Queen-Annish-looking house, that, amid the gay sunshine, seems as if it rested upon the very slope of the upland, has this morning presented to her lord, a son and heir; and, as a welcome to the event, the village bells ring merrily; and the village folks look gay and blithe, for the squire is good, and kind, and affable, and his lady is yet more good, and kind, and affable than he; and this evening-this lovely, spring-like, first-of-May evening, many a glad couple are to dance on the manor-house lawn, and many a foaming tankard of the steward's nuttiest ale is to be drunk in toasts, full and deep, to the new-born squire's coming health and happiness. So far all is well! But knows this picture no reverse? Shall we be prophetic and Sibyl-like, looking like cunning seers into the womb of far-off time, and with the faithfulness of ghost Banquo's mirror, reflect the urchin's future course? long series of pictures lies before us; first, a spoiled and petted childhood, with opposition breeding waywardness, and indulgence laying the foundation of a headstrong self-will, sufficient to stock three general officers, and four rear-admirals of any of our modern dramatists: next in the series is a hey-day, reckless, neck-or-nothing college life, with five-barred gate leaps threatening breakage to our hero's neck, and five-folio-filling bilis, threatening mortgage to his estate: the third living

VoL. II.No. 16.

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[PRICE Two PENCE.

portraiture that presents itself to our foreseeing eye, is the death of that squire, so good, so kind, so affable, and the succession of the scapegrace, with a score of post-obits, usury debts, and mortgages, to welcome him to the hall of his ancestors: another, and yet another;' -see what the fourth gives us :-his debts and obligations 'lay on load' too much for him to bear-part slips through his hands-all is in danger-and a hasty flight to the continent is the only chance of saving himself from the Fleet; while the pretty village, whose bells you may still hear ringing afar off, finds itself deserted by the family that from time immemorial was its upholder and support: instead of the unfortunate receiving aid and comfort, he is pressed to despair by the squire's rent-collector, who must have the rent, because his employer must have remittances; and, in stead of the sickly widow being cheered by a visit and a word of consolation from the lady of the manor, she is consigned to the cold and hired attendance of the workhouse nurse, who will count her death as so much labor spared.

What a moving question, and how much may hang upon it! What a leveller! What an uncompromising distributor !-The lord of ten thousand acres stops another lord of twenty thousand acres, at the corner of Palace Yard, and asks how it fares with a third lord of thirty thousand acres- Oh, my lord,' quoth he that is questioned, he is dead!'-A sinister, swivel-eyed, shabby genteel-looking youth, stops another of like fortune and degree, at the corner of the Almonry (only some hundred yards removed from their lordship's scene of action,) and asks how it fares with a third gentleman that once graced the fraternity to which the two communicants belong.-' Poor fellow, is the reply, 'he is dead!'-What a leveller! The lord and the thief are both dead: that is their record-that is the conclusion of the pampered existence of the one, and of the alley diving, police-shunning life of the other. 'They are

dead!'-But there has been worse levelling still. My lord of the thirty thousand acres expired on a couch of down-the light softened to his aching eyes through festooning curtains of embroidered silk, and each moment of his fluctuating existence watched by an obsequious practitioner, licensed to kill,' whose trade is to assuage the pangs of death for a con-si-de-ra-ti-on; the thief has expiated the mingled crime of poverty and guilt upon the scaffold; a wretched coil of rope has swung him into eternity, with none around him but the hardened annihilators of mankind-also, licensed to kill.' But such distinctions have now become invidious. They are dead!' and that tells all.-In that single phrase of balance and account, the haughty pride of the one, and the sneaking villain craft of the other, are summed up!

The tragedy is too true, and I look in vain for a remedy of the evils, in which it is easy to see this black and unnatural business has found its origin. The principal source certainly lies in the feelings of attachment which the Scotch have for their deceased friends. They are curious in the choice of their sepulchre, and a common shepherd is often, at whatever ruinous expense to his family, transported many miles to some favorite place of burial which has been occupied by his fathers. It follows, of course, that any interference with these remains is considered with most utter horror and indignation. To such of their superiors as they love from clanship or habits of dependence, they attach the same feeling. I experienced it when I had a great domestic loss; for I learned afterwards that the cemetery was guarded, out of good will, by the servants and dependents who had been attached to her during life; and were I to be laid beside my lost companion just now, I have no doubt it would be long before my humble friends would discontinue the same watch over my remains, and that it would incur mortal risk to approach them with the purpose of violation. This is a kind and virtuous principle, in which every one so far partakes, that, although an unprejudiced person would have no objection to the idea of his own remains undergoing dissection, if their being exposed to scientific research could be of the least service to humanity, yet we all shudder at the notion of any who had been dear to us, especially a wife or sister, being subjected to a scalpel among a gazing and unfeeling crowd of students. One would fight and die to prevent it. This current of feeling is encouraged by the law which, as distinguishing murderers and other atrocious criminals, orders that bodies shall be given for public dissection. This makes it almost impossible to consign the bodies of those who die in the public hospitals to the same fate; for it would be inflicting on poverty the penalty which, wisely or

unwisely, the law of the country has denouuced against guilt of the highest degree; and it would assuredly deprive all who have a remaining spark of feeling or shame, of the benefit of those consolations of charity of which they are the best objects.

HIS REMARKS ON IRVING, THE MADMAN. I met to-day the celebrated divine and soi-disant prophet Irving. He is a fine-looking man (bating a diabolical squint), with talent on his brow and madness in his eye. His dress, and the arrangement of his hair, indicated that. I could hardly keep my eyes off him while we were at table. He put me in mind of the devil disguised as an angel of light, so ill did that horrible obliquity of vision harmonise with the dark tranquil features of his face, resembling that of our SAVIOR in Italian pictures, with the hair carefully arranged in the same manner. There was much real, or affected, simplicity in the manner in which he spoke. He rather made play, spoke much, and seemed to be good-humored. But he spoke with that kind of unction which is nearly allied to cajolerie. He boasted much of the tens of thousands that attended his ministry at the town of Annan, his native place, till he well nigh provoked me to say he was a distinguished exception to the rule that a prophet was not esteemed in his own country. But time and place were not fitting.

We need hardly add, that this said Divine died raving mad,-it requiring no fewer than four strong men to hold him down:

SIR WALTER'S LAST ILLNESS AND DEATH. Sir Walter, after a little while, again dropt into slumber. When he was awaking, Laidlaw said to me, 'Sir Walter has had a little repose.' 'No, Willie,' said he 'no repose for Sir Walter but in the grave.' The tears again rushed from his eyes. 'Friends,' said he, don't let me expose myself-get me to bed-that's the only place.

*

After this he declined daily, but still there was great strength to be wasted, and the process was long. He seemed, however, to suffer no bodily pain, and his mind, though hopelessly obscured, appeared, when there was any symptom of consciousness, to be dwelling, with rare exceptions, on serious and solemn things; the accent of the voice grave, sometimes awful, but never querulous, and very seldom indicative of any angry or resentful thoughts. Now and then he imagined himself to be administering justice as Sheriff; and once or twice he seemed to be ordering Tom Purdie about trees. A few times also, I am sorry to say, we could perceive that his fancy was at Jedburgh-and Burk Sir Walter escaped him in a melancholy tone. But commonly whatever we could follow him in was a fragment of the Bible (especially the Prophecies of Isaiah, and the Book of Job)-or some portion of the Litany-or a verse of some Psalm (in the old Scotch metrical version)-or of in which he had always delighted, but which probably some of the magnificent hymns of the Romish ritual, hung on his memory now in connexion with the church

services he had attended while in Italy. We very often heard distinctly the cadence of the Dies Irae; and I think the very last stanza that we could make out, was the first of a still greater favorite

Stabat Mater dolorosa, Juxta crucem lachrymosa, Dum pendebat Filius.

As I was dressing on the morning of Monday the 17th of September, Nicolson came into my room, and told me that his master had awoke in a state of composure and consciousness, and wished to see me immediately. I found him entirely himself, though in the last extreme of feebleness. His eye was clear and calm-every trace of the wild fire of delirium extinguished. 'Lockhart,' he said, 'I may have but a minute to speak to you. My dear, be a good man-be virtuous-be religious-be a good man. Nothing else will give you any comfort when you come to lie here.'-He paused, and I said, 'Shall I send for Sophia and Anne ?'-' No," said he, don't disturb them. Poor souls! I know they were up all night-God bless you all.' • About half-past one P. M., on the 21st of September, Sir

There are four very good seasons of the year for shooting in Greece: in the month of April the pigeons remain about three weeks; the quails then follow and remain a month; then, in September and October, come the partridges; and in the months of November and December the woodcock and snipe, which arrive at that period in myriads. There are certain game laws in force, but the fees are very inexpensive. You

take out a certificate for three months for a drachma and half (about one shilling); for a year you pay three and a half drachmas (two shillings and sixpence). The gens-d'armerie are very severe if they find you shooting without a license; your gun is taken from you, and not restored till you have paid the fine, which is about one hundred drachmas (nearly four pounds sterling). The cheapness of the license, one would almost think, would occasion so many sportsmen, that the game would sensibly diminish, until it almost disappeared; but such is not the case. In the interior of the country there are but few inhabitants, and the game enjoys an undisturbed repose. Partridges and hares are found all over Greece, and pheasants are found in great numbers in the neighborhood of Missolonghi, and at Zeitouni; and in Negropont and the frontiers, the wild boar and deer are numerous. The other game mentioned is only transient, and they come in such flocks that they never appear to diminish.

TRAPPING THE BEAVER.

Practice, says Captain Bonneville, has given such a quickness of eye to the experienced trapper in all that relates to his pursuit, that he can detect the slightest sign of a beaver, however wild; and although the lodge may be concealed by close thickets and overhanging willows, he can generally at a single glance make an accurate guess at the number of its inmates. He

now goes to work to set his trap, planting it upon the shore in some chosen place, two or three inches below the surface of the water, and secures it by a chain to a pole set deep in the mud. A small twig is then stripped of its bark, and one end is dipped in the "medicine," as the trappers term the peculiar bait which they employ. This end of the stick rises about four inches above the surface of the water, the other end is planted between the jaws of the trap. The beaver, possessing an acute sense of smell, is soon attracted by the odor of the bait. As he raises his nose towards it, his foot is caught in the trap. In his fright he throws a somerset into the deep water. The trap, being fastened to the pole, resists all his efforts to drag it to the shore; the chain by which it is fastened defies his teeth; he struggles for a time, and at length sinks to the bottom and is drowned. Occasionally it happens that several members of a beaver family are trapped in succession. The survivors then become extremely shy, and can scarcely be "brought to medicine," to use the trapper's phrase for "taking the bait." In such case, the trapper gives up the use of the bait, and conceals his traps in the usual paths and crossing places of the household. The beaver now being completely "up to trap," approaches them cautiously, and springs them ingeniously with a stick. At other times, he turns the trap bottom upwards by the same means, and occasionally even drags them to the barrier and conceals them in the mud. The trapper now gives up the contest of ingenuity, and shouldering his traps, marches off, admitting that he is not yet " beaver."

REMARKS ON BIRDS.

THE CUCKOO.

up to

This pleasant little harbinger of spring, with its two monotonous yet joy-inspiring notes, arrives in this country early in April, and takes its departure early in June. The common species comes to us every spring from Northern Africa, or Asia Minor, and returns in autumn. This is known from personal observation; for vast numbers arrive in the spring in Sicily and Naples, in company with the bee-eaters, orioles, hoopoes, and other migratory birds; and after remaining a short time, they appear to direct their flight northward, from whence they return in August and September. The cuckoo is often followed by a small bird, said to be the titlark. It is thought that the purpose of the smaller bird is to watch the motions of the cuckoo, and drive her away, because, when on the wing, the titlark is seen to dart on the cuckoo as the swallow does on the sparrowhawk; and if the tit has any instinctive jealousy for the honor of his bed, his aversion to the cuckoo is naturally justifiable. It is the habit of the cuckoo, in depositing her egg in the nest of another bird, that has made it an object of curiosity. Many strange stories were formerly