ment; she loved fine acting, and I loved the the world, go forth into the fields one fine play. Perhaps I loved the written drama morning to seek a venerable elderly lady, more than she did; for her admiration was Urania by name, through whose wisdom they given rather to the great actor than to the au- expect to be made immediately good and hap thor; she thought more of John Kemble than py. They have the usual scenic good fortune of Shakspeare-it was a real passion for the of meeting with the only human being who stage. She never saw our great school-room could properly direct them, in the person of a without longing to turn it into a theatre. Two certain young shepherdess, called Florella, a events, which happened in my last half-year, protegée of Urania, who leads them to her at most unexpectedly realized her wish-though the accomplishment fell far short of her expectations. Madame, poor Madame, the determined enemy of poetry and private theatricals, left us; she returned to France, and we never saw her again; and, just at the same time, a young lady arrived from the country, so different from all other country consignments, that our prejudices melted before her like snow in the sunshine.

once. She receives the distressed damsels kindly; hears their several confessions, not of sins but of propensities; for they have all, according to Pope's system, a "ruling passion;" gives them good advice and a breakfast; and the piece concludes. It had nearly come to an abrupt conclusion in our case. Critics of fifteen and sixteen are not remarkably tolerant: and Mrs. Hannah More, though a forcible prose writer, is, without offence be it Eliza M. was a tall, full-formed, noble- spoken, no great poet! and measured with looking girl of sixteen, with an expressive Milton-the Search after Happiness comopen countenance, and a fine frankness of pared to Comus! Alas for poor Miss R.! manner. Her conversation was singularly within a quarter of an hour after assuming the engaging and original, - fresh, ardent, elo- managerial throne, she shared the fate of other quent, like that of a clever boy;-manly, not managers,-her two principal actors threw up masculine. No one could be in her company their parts. This fit of disgust was, however, five minutes without being convinced of her rather violent than lasting. Our manager great powers and of their high cultivation. soothed and scolded, and reasoned and bribed; To add to our astonishment (for we had really and we, after picking this “Pastoral Drama" the impertinence to think most places of edu- to pieces as thoroughly as ever children picked cation within the bills of mortality, and all a daisy, began to relent; listened to reason, beyond them, mere dens of ignorance,) to and finally promised to try; a condescension crush all our prejudices at once, she was just to which we were induced, partly by the cocome from a country school, where her very gent argument that any play was better than last act had been the representation of Comus. none, and partly by the promise of real sceneHere was a discovery! In the existing state ry, new dresses, and splendid decorations. of Miss R.'s fancy, she became convinced that The play was now generally announced; read Eliza M. owed not only her graceful carriage with prodigious applause, (it seemed that we and her fine elocution, but all her talents and two had exhausted the critical carping;) and accomplishments solely to the having sus- cast in proper form. Eliza accepted Urania, tained a part in this masque; and she instant- stipulating that the speeches should be a good ly resolved to new-model all her pupils at a deal shortened, especially in the didactic parts; stroke in the same way. She immediately and that the worthy lady should be made concommunicated her resolution to Eliza and my-siderably younger. She declared that she self, and left us to consult Mrs. S. on the subject. We remained together in high expectation, turning over Milton's exquisite poem, casting the parts, spouting, admiring, and I, between whiles, a little regretting that, though the very finest thing in the world in its way, Comus was not Richard the Third. The regret was unnecessary; we were not fated to act Comus. Miss R. returned from Mrs. S. with the appointed play, the only play which that worthy governess would hear of the only play fit to be acted by young ladies the Search after Happiness, a pastoral drama; and the respective idolators of Milton and Shakspeare sate down to the perusal of Mrs. Hannah More. Do any of my readers know the piece? It is a dialogue in rhyme, moral, sensible, and well-intentioned, but not very dramatic, and not pastoral at all. The story may be shortly told. Four fashionable young ladies, sufficiently tired of themselves and of

would not even have acted Comus, if Comus had been an old woman; and, above all, she demanded that one expression, which particularly affronted her, "the goodly dame," should be transmuted into "gentle fair," or some such elegancy. The four seekers after happiness were next to be disposed of. Cleora, the leader and talker of the party, fell to my share. This Cleora was a learned lady, a blue stocking of the very first water, and if intended by the author, as I suppose it was, for a lesson, was sadly thrown away in the present instance. God knows there was small danger of my aspiring after too much knowledge! What a pity that Miss Julia, maker of notes, writer of short-hand, reporter of lectures, should have left school! She would have played Cleora to the life. She should have staid on purpose, and I dare say she would have staid, if she could have foreseen such an opportunity of exhibiting the universality of

her genius. Next came "the fair Euphelia," ing of them nearly overset our play. They a pretty, vain, coquettish character, which, in had been overlooked at first, being really too right of beauty, was consigned to our beauti- unimportant to attract attention, and remained ful countess. What a mistake was that, too! for two or three days totally forgotten; till No one could look at the pure and lofty style Zenobie, our clever dunce, and Charlotte, one of her countenance without being convinced of our managing triad (her sister Catharine that vanity was to her an impossible fault; was ill or she would have manoeuvred for all proud she might be, vain she could not! one three), took a fancy to act them, and immeshould as soon have suspected the Apollo Bel-diately preferred a petition to that effect, videre. The third lady errante, "the gentle Laurinda," was much better disposed of.Never was a part more felicitously cast! Our Laurinda was a fine, showy girl, tall, plump, inert, and languishing, with a fair blooming complexion, light sleepy eyes, long flaxen hair, and a general comely silliness of aspect. Her speech had a characteristic slowness, an indolent drawl, all her words were dragged, as it were, so that those who did not know her were apt to accuse her of affectation.Those who did, saw at once that she was a thoroughly well-meaning young person, with much good-humour and no want of sense, but with an entire absence of energy and application, a capacity of unlearning, a faculty of forgetting exactly suited to the part. She was, in short, the very Laurinda of the play.

Last of the quartet was Pastorella, a romantic nymph always in love. Truly she was well suited, too; having fallen to the lot of a very lovely girl, quite an Asiatic beauty, who, though not in the least addicted to such silly pastime, had an oriental languor in her slow and graceful movements, and a depth of tenderness in her large black eyes, which gave a verisimilitude to her representation of the forlorn damsel. She was also an admirable musician, and Miss R. determined to call her sweet and passionate voice in aid of the illusion. So she was to sing some fervid Italian ditty to the accompaniment of her own harp; which would have just the proper sentimental air (your romantic young lady always does accompany herself on the harp, especially out of doors) and to be drest as much like the heroine of a novel as possible. Then came the shepherdess, Florella. We had a charming Florella; a gentle, simple, country girl, whose round, slender figure, her golden hair, blue eyes, and glowing complexion, her innocent voice, and engaging smile, might have suited

"the prettiest low-born lass that ever Ran on the green sward."

She seemed born to wear little white hats wreathed with flowers, and jackets laced tightly to her small trim waist, to weave chaplets, tie up nosegays, and twist garlands round her crook.

which was readily granted. Nothing could equal the consternation of their mamma, elect, when she heard this intelligence. To be a mamma at all was bad enough; but to have one daughter taller than herself, and another, who, though not so tall, looked like an old fairy, was not to be endured. She flew to Miss R.; Miss R. was sorry, but she had promised. She remonstrated, coaxed, argued, threatened, talked of resigning-did resign; still no relaxation. The whole house was split into factions; all who knew anything of acting felt with poor Urania, that the grouping required absolute children; all who did not, sided with the popular favourites, Zenobie and Charlotte. At last, after the manager's firmness and the prima donna's obstinacy had been well tried-after one whole day of turmoil and suspense-Charlotte's good-humour decided the question. She prevailed on Zenobie to join her in withdrawing their request; and Urania, well chidden for her presumption, penitent, but triumphant, resumed her part, and at the end of a few days was even permitted to choose her children. And an excellent choice she made. Our sweet little Irish girl, the sometime Pizarro, who did every thing but grow, and at twelve years of age looked eight, as at eight she had wit enough for twelve, played the eldest daughter; whilst a rosy, curly-pated, laughing brat of six, a perfect picture of a child, just like one of Sir Joshua's, stepped down from the frame, lisped through the youngest to admiration. Nor were Charlotte and Zenobie forgotten.

The three sisters formed a sort of chorus of shepherdesses in attendance on Florella, and sang and danced at the banquet; whilst, at the end of their dance, Zenobie, exquisitely dressed, and armed with a superb garland of roses, darted forward and executed a pas seul. Such a pas seul! The French dancing-master declared that nothing like that had ever been seen in England. It was the only part of our play that was encored.

And now we began to experience, in its fullest enchantment, the extraordinary power that acting possesses over the human fancy,

the total absorption, the artificial importance, the busy idleness! The whole school Our dramatis persone now wanted only the was turned topsy-turvy; nothing was thought two daughters of Urania to be complete.- of or talked of but our play; there was an These two daughters might almost have pass- entire pause and intermission of all lessons, ed pour des personnages muets. They had an universal holiday. Those who did not act scarcely ten lines between them;-anybody in the drama were wanted to act audience; might have filled such parts, and yet the fill-and the making of paper flowers, the construc

weary of admiring her.-Perhaps I might almost have envied such powers in any one else; but she was so kind-hearted, bore her faculties so meekly, was so ready to advise, and so eager to encourage and assist, that she quelled the evil spirit. She seemed perfectly unconscious of her high superiority; except the natural desire not to look too old, she never betrayed one spark of vanity through the whole piece.

tion of paste-board trellis-work, the painting them; I could read the play decently enough; and decorating of Urania's bower, the only but in acting I was really deplorable; shame part of the scenery we managed at home, (all and fear and awkwardness had set their mark the rest was hired from a private theatre) on me; there was no breaking the spell. My found full employment for little and great. hands and arms, especially, were intolerable The actresses were busy enough. Urania had burthens. I never knew what to do with her part to study and her dress; or rather she them; and should certainly have resigned in had to reconcile these perplexing contradic- despair, but for the relief of a fan in the protions, to submit her decorations to the sedate- logue, and a most comfortable promise from ness of her character, and to take away some- Florella, to pop a nosegay into my hand the what of age and gravity from her character to moment she came on the scene. Nothing less suit the elegance of her costume. Oh the could have reconciled me to remaining in the coquetry of her point-lace cap! and the pro- company. In proportion as I disappointed fusion and graceful folds of fine Indian mus- my own expectations, Urania exceeded them. lin in which she was enveloped! She looked She was, indeed, a consummate actress, in as much like a splendid young bride, and as voice, person, manner, and expression. A little like a reduced elderly gentlewoman, as pervading and indescribable grace, a fine quick could be. Besides these weighty and opposing intelligence, and a modest confidence, distinconsiderations, Urania undertook the charge guishing every word and motion. I was never of teaching her daughters and the shepherdess Florella; and was extra-officially employed in giving hints to all parties, from the harp mistress, who composed our songs, down to the shoemaker who furnished our sandals, from the manager rehearsing, down to Laurinda, trying to learn. The fair Euphelia, too, had a double difficulty to encounter, her dignity and the th. Oh those terrible consonants! she could manage all other English sounds. We changed every word we could; but there was no dispensing with the thes and the thats; so she was forced to go on deing and dating so prettily! we scarcely wished to cure such an imperfection. Pastorella's cares were of a gentler sort. She was engaged in the pleasant task of selecting the tenderest Italian song, and the most romantic trimming that fashion would permit. With the first she was easily suited; the last was rather a puzzle. First she fixed upon the heart's-ease, whose sentimental names, the pensée, and the love in idleness, rendered it peculiarly appropriate; but the heart's-ease is a daylight flower; its colours require the sun; and the yellow looks white and the purple black by candle-light; so that was given up. Then she tried the lily of the valley; that was too limp, and hung awkwardly; then sprigs of myrtle; they were too stiff, and would not hang at all; so that she was fain to lay aside her softer emblems, and content herself with oak-leaves and acorns. My troubles lay in a different direction. At first I had inwardly grieved over the play and the part and the prologue (which also fell to my lot) as a sad waste of talent: I had fallen into the pretty general error of mistaking the love of an art, for the power of excelling in it, and had longed to come out in Milton or Shakspeare. But I soon discovered, to the great improvement of my humility, that The Search after Happiness was only too good for me; in short, that I was about as bad an actress as ever trod the stage. To be sure, I did know my speeches by rote, and I also understood the sense of

At last, after a whole month's busy preparation, the great day arrived, luckily one of the shortest in December; for such a day of confusion and unrest and useless bustle I have never encountered before or since. From sunrise to sunset we were all running after we knew not what, talking, spouting, singing, laughing, or crying, without a moment's intermission. My particular exercise was practising a circular curtsy, which I had been taught to make as prologue; I curtsied till I could hardly stand. Of course we had plenty of vexations, besides those which we chose to cultivate for our private diversion. First of all, the sandals were not finished. In spite of three several messsages to the faithless shoemaker, the sandals never made their appearance till just half an hour after the shepherdesses had accomplished their dance in slippers. The fancy dresses of Urania's daughters never came at all; they were forced to play in white frocks. Then the decorations that did arrive, contrived to be almost as provoking as those that did not. ner sent Euphelia a sky-blue plume to wear A stupid milliwith her pink robe! Pastorella's new stays were two inches too large; Florella's jacket was three inches too small! and the green curtain a quarter of a yard too short. There was no end to the letting down, the letting out, and the taking in of that disastrous day. But the most perplexing of all our perplexities was occasioned by the innocent but unfortunate Laurinda. She had no mother, and was to be furnished with a splendid dress by her father's sister, viscountess A. We were anxiously

certo, Pastorella, who had succeeded in taking
in her stays till she could scarcely breathe in
them, between fright and tight lacing, fainted
away, and water was immediately called for.
The gardener, whose ideas appear to have been
rather professional, immediately handed up an
enormous watering-pot, brimfull of the pure
element, which the housemaid was carrying
to the fainting lady, when Miss Jane, darting
along with her usual officiousness, and more
than her usual speed, in search of a bottle of
sal volatil, threw poor Pastorella's own harp
right against the well-loaded housemaid, and
housemaid, harp, and watering-pot all fell to-
gether in the middle of the stage. The crash
was startling: and our manager jumped over
the foot-lamps to investigate the cause.
found the sick damsel roused by the shock in
time to save her laces, and very wisely engaged
in washing off her rouge and relieving her
heart by a plentiful shower of tears. House-
maid and harp, too, had been picked up un-
hurt; but the watering-pot was rolling about
the stage, and the stage was floated, absolute-
ly under water. The actresses were scudding
about to the dry places, full of care for their
silks and satins, some clinging to the bower,
others climbing the side-scenes, perched
amidst boughs and branches, and in great dan-
ger of bringing the whole forest about our ears.
It was no time for scolding; so the whole

She

looking out for the expected parcel, the lady nent. She did not foresee the calamity that aunt being in the country, when a letter which awaited us. Just as the company were enterarrived by post spread a general consternationing, and our orchestra beginning a grand conand dismay. This letter, addressed to Laurinda, franked by the viscount, signed by the viscountess, and written by her maid, announced that the promised dress would be sent by the coach on Thursday, and they hoped would fit and please the intended wearer. Thursday! and this "the great, the important day" was Tuesday! Here was a calamity! We examined the letter again and again, spelt the word over and over, there it was plain and clear, T, h, u, the next letter was rather uncertain, it looked most like an r, but it might have passed for an e, without a loop, or an i, without a tittle. The Th was there as legible as copperplate, and never did those two letters give greater perturbation to our dear countess, and to us the committee of management. One of us, however, on a closer perusal of the letter, found that "pleased" was spelt plased," and, on examining Laurinda, we farther discovered that the waiting gentlewoman was Irish. It might therefore be purely an error in spelling, arising from a vicious pronunciation. But this conjecture was considered as rather super-subtle, and at all events we could not comfortably rely even on a femme-de-chambre's false spelling. So we held a council on the case, and had just resolved to omit the character altogether, when the paraphernalia arrived, and restored the fair wearer to the honours of the play-bill. Such a dress was worth a little fright; it was equal-chain of delinquents, from the gardener to ly superb and becoming: she looked like a peeress, in that magnificent birth-day suit; and within a few months she actually became one; -the earliest and best married of all our company was the gentle Laurinda.

66

Miss Jane, escaped unchidden; it was more "germane to the matter" to send for cloths and mops, and warming-pans, and more housemaids, and get the stage dry as soon as possible. The cold water had done us all good; At last the long and arduous duties of the it had diverted our thoughts. Even I, in the tiring-room were over; and plumed and trained midst of my tribulation, forgot for a moment and spangled, pearl-powdered, or rouged, as that I was to speak the prologue and to open fear and novelty made us look red or pale, we the play;-alas! only for a moment! Our were safely escorted behind the green curtain, manager rejoined the company, the curtain and left there by our manager, who resolved drew up, and I advanced to make the famous herself to join the company. Our theatre was curtsy, with just such a courage as a coward a lofty spacious saloon, built after the house may assume, who is placed in the van in batwas erected, for the purpose of a dancing-room. tle and cannot run away,-the desperate courIt was well adapted to our present object, as age of fear. I think I can feel my heart beat it opened into another apartment by large fold- now. There was no need of such palpitations. ing doors; and the two together accommo- The audience came to be indulgent, and they dated a very numerous and elegant audience. were so. The prologue went off well; and We behind the curtain had no way of com- the play on the whole still better. I have not municating with the rest of the house except left room for particular accidents-and how through a window, which looked from a con- one scene would not go back, or another come siderable height into the garden. A ladder forward:-how Laurinda was stranded, and was placed at the window, and a maid servant Urania helped her off:-how Pastorella's harp stood within, and the gardener without, to was untuned by the fall and her voice by the perform any service that we might require. crying, and how that untuneable song and the Miss R. had been much pleased with this oak-leaf trimming won the heart of a young temporary non-intercourse, this secure caging post-captain, now her happy spouse:-how of her little birds; it was such an assurance Florella forgot her crook, and Cleora walked of their not flying away, of which, in one in- through her train :-these, with other notable stance at least, the danger had seemed immi-incidents, must remain untold. Suffice it that