nature are not yet blunted by the stern experience of after life!

This brings me to record a remarkable and disastrous event in theatrical annals, and one which in a great measure suggested the present communication. It was my fortune to be present at the last performances ever given on the boards of Old Drury-and which took place on Thursday evening the 23rd of February, 1809-when was acted for the first, and as it proved, the last time, a new opera composed by Bishop, called the "Circassian Bride." The next night this magnificent theatre was a pile of burning ruins. The awful grandeur of the conflagration defies description, but to enlarge upon a circumstance so comparatively recent would be purely gratuitous; it was, however, an event which might be truly said, "to eclipse the harmless gaiety of nations," for the metropolis then presented the unprecedented spectacle of the national drama without a home,-the two sister theatres both prostrate in the dust! Annexed is a copy of the play-bill, which at this distance of time, may perhaps be valued as an interesting relic. illustrative of dramatic history.

NEVER ACTED.

J. H.

Theatre Royal, Drury-lane. This present THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 23, 1809.

Their Majesties Servants will perform a New Opera, in Three Acts, called the

CIRCASSIAN BRIDE. With New Scenery, Dresses, and Decor

ations.

and

The

executed by him, Mr. BANKS, and

Assistants.

The Dresses and Decorations, by
Mr. JOHNSTON,
executed by him, Mr. BANKS and
Mr. UNDERWOOD.

Female Dresses designed and ex-
ecuted by Miss REIN.
Books of the Songs to be had in the
Theatre.

To which will be added the Farce of FORTUNE'S FROLIC. Robin Roughhead, Mr. MATHEWS, Rattle, Mr. PALMER, Nancy Miss LACY, Margery, Mrs. SPARKS,

Dolly, Mrs. HARLOWE. Places for the Boxes to be taken of Mr. SPRING, at the Box-Office, Russel-street. No money to be returned.

Vivant Rex et Regina !

(Lowndes and Hobbs, Printers, Marquis court, Drury-lane.)

"ELTA."-Why should J. H. pop on me with his mention of ELIA, just as I was about to write "an article?" Write! -it's impossible. I have turned to "My

composed by Mr. BISHOP,

CIRCASSIANS.
Alexis, Mr. BRAHAM,
Rhindax, Mr. DE CAMP,
Demetrio, Mr. MARSHALL,
Basil, Mr. RAY,

Officers, Mr. GIBBON, Mr. MILler,
Chief Priest, Mr. MADDOCKS,
Erminia, Miss LYON.

ENGLISH.

Ben Blunt, Mr. BANNISTER, Tom Taffrel, Mr. SMITH, Rachael, Mrs. MOUNTAIN. TARTARS. Usberg, (the Khan,) Mr. J. SMITH, Barak, Mr. MATHEWS,

VOL. II.-92.

head: the reader must take the consequence of my inability, and of the fault of J. H., and read what I shall never approach to, in writing, were I to "grind my quill these hundred years"

MY FIRST PLAY

BY ELIA.

At the north end of Cross-court there yet stands a portal, of some architectural pretensions, though reduced to humble use, serving at present for an entrance to a printing-office. This old door-way, if you are young, reader, you may not know was the identical pit entrance to Old Drury-Garrick's Drury-all of it

that is left. I never pass it without shaking some forty years from off my shoulders, recurring to the evening when I passed through it to see my first play. The afternoon had been wet, and the condition of our going (the elder folks and myself) was, that the rain should cease. With what a beating heart did I watch from the window the puddles, from the stillness of which I was taught to prognosticate the desired cessation! I seem to remember the last spurt, and the glee with which I ran to announce it.

We went with orders, which my godfather F. had sent us. He kept the oil shop (now Davies's) at the corner of Featherstone-building, in Holborn. F. was a tall grave person, lofty in speech, and had pretensions above his rank. He associated in those days with John Palmer, the comedian, whose gait and bearing he seemed to copy; if John (which is quite as likely) did not rather borrow somewhat of his manner from my godfather. He was also known to, and visited by, Sheridan. It was to his house in Holborn, that young Brinsley brought his first wife on her elopement with him from a boarding school at Bath-the beautiful Maria Linley. My parents were present (over a quadrille table) when he arrived in the evening with his harmonious charge.From either of these connections, it may be inferred that my godfather could command an order for the then Drury-lane theatre at pleasure—and, indeed, a pretty liberal issue of those cheap billets, in Brinsley's easy autograph, I have heard him say was the sole remuneration which he had received for many years' nightly illumination of the orchestra, and various avenues of that theatre-and he was content that it should be so. The honour of Sheridan's familiarity—or supposed familiarity was better to my godfather than money.

F. was the most gentlemanly of oilmen; grandiloquent, yet courteous. His delivery of the commonest matters of fact was Ciceronian. He had two Latin words almost constantly in his mouth, (how odd sounds Latin from an oilman's lips!) which my better knowledge since, has enabled me to correct. In strict pronunciation they should have been sounded vice versa—but in those young years they impressed me with more awe than they would now do, read aright from Seneca or Varro-in his own peculiar pronunciation, monosyllabically elaborated, or

anglicized, into something like verse verse. By an imposing manner, and the help of these distorted syllables, he climbed (but that was little) to the highest parochial honours which St. Andrew's has to bestow. He is dead, and thus much I thought due to his memory, both for my first orders (little wondrous talismans !—slight keys, and insignificant to outward sight, but opening to me more than Arabian paradises!) and moreover, that by his testamentary beneficence I came into possession of the only landed property which I could ever call my own-situate near the road-way village of pleasant Puckeridge, in Hertfordshire. When I journied down to take possession, and planted foot on my own ground, the stately habits of the donor descended upon me, and I strode (shall I confess the vanity?) with larger paces over my allotment of three quarters of an acre, with its commodious mansion in the midst with the feeling of an English freeholder, that all betwixt sky and centre was my own. The estate has passed into more prudent hands, and nothing but an agrarian can restore it.

In those days were pit orders. Beshrew the uncomfortable manager who abolished them!-with: one of these we went. I remember the waiting at the door-not that which is left-but between that and an inner door in shelter-O when shall I be such an expectant again;-with the cry of nonpareils, an indispensable playhouse accompaniment in those days. As near as I can recollect, the fashionable pronunciation of the theatrical fruiteresses then was, "Chase some oranges, chase some numparels, chase a bill of the play;" -chase pro chuse. But when we got in, and I beheld the green curtain that veiled a heaven to my imagination, which was soon to be disclosed-the breathless anticipations I endured! I had seen something like it in the plate prefixed to “Troilus and Cressida," in Rowe's "Shakspeare"the tent scene with Diomede-and a sight of that plate can always bring back in a measure the feeling of that evening.The boxes at that time, full of well-dressed women of quality, projected over the pit ; and the pilasters reaching down were adorned with a glistering substance (I know not what) under glass (as it seemed) resembling-a homely fancy-but Í judged it to be sugar-candy-yet, to my raised imagination, divested of its homelier qualities, it appeared a glorified candy!

-The orchestra lights at length arose, those "fair Auroras!" Once the bell sounded. It was to ring out yet once again—and, incapable of the anticipation, I reposed my shut eyes in a sort of resignation upon the maternal lap. It rang the second time. The curtain drew up I was not past six years old-and the play was Artaxerxes!

I had dabbled a little in the Universal History-the ancient part of it—and here was the court of Persia. It was being admitted to a sight of the past. I took no proper interest in the action going on, for I understood not its import-but I heard the word Darius, and I was in the midst of Daniel. All feeling was absorbed in vision. Gorgeous vests, gardens, palaces, princesses, passed before me. I knew not players. I was in Persepolis for the time; and the burning idol of their devotion almost converted me into a worshipper. I was awe-struck, and believed those significations to be something more than elemental fires. It was all enchantment and a dream. No such pleasure has since visited me but in dreams.-Harlequin's Invasion followed; where, I remember, the transformation of the magistrates into reverend beldams seemed to me a piece of grave historic justice, and the tailor carrying his own head to be as sober a verity as the legend of St. Denys.

The next play to which I was taken was the "Lady of the Manor," of which, with the exception of some scenery, very faint traces are left in my memory. It was followed by a pantomime, called "Lun's Ghost"'—a satiric touch, I apprehend, upon Rich, not long since deadbut to my apprehension (too sincere for satire) "Lun" was as remote a piece of antiquity as "Lud"-the father of a line of Harlequins-transmitting his dagger of lath (the wooden sceptre) through countless ages. I saw the primeval Motley come from his silent tomb in a ghastly vest of white patch-work, like the apparition of a dead rainbow. So harlequins (thought I) look when they are dead.

My third play followed in quick succession. It was the "Way of the World." I think I must have sat at it as grave as a judge; for, I remember, the hysteric af fectations of good lady Wishfort affected me like some solemn tragic passion. "Robinson Crusoe" followed; in which Crusoe, man Friday, and the parrot, were as good and authentic as in the story.

The clownery and pantaloonery of these pantomimes have clean passed out of my head. I believe, I no more laughed at them, than at the same age I should have been disposed to laugh at the grotesque Gothic heads (seeming to me then replete with devout meaning) that gape, and grin, in stone around the inside of the old round church (my church) of the Templars.

I saw these plays in the season 1781-2, when I was from six to seven years old. After the intervention of six or seven other years (for at school all play-going was inhibited) I again entered the doors of a theatre. That old Artaxerxes evening had never done ringing in my fancy. I expected the same feelings to come again with the same occasion. But we differ from ourselves less at sixty and sixteen, than the latter does from six. In that interval what had I not lost! At the first period I knew nothing, understood nothing, discriminated nothing. I felt all, loved all, wondered all—

Was nourished, I could not tell how.I had left the temple a devotee, and was returned a rationalist. The same things were there materially; but the emblem, the reference, was gone!-The green curtain was no longer a veil, drawn between two worlds, the unfolding of which was to bring back past ages, to present "a royal ghost,"-but a certain quantity of green baize, which was to separate the audience for a given time from certain of their fellow-men who were to come forward and pretend those parts. The lights-the orchestra lights came up a clumsy machinery. The first ring, and the second ring, was now but a trick of the prompter's bell-which had been, like the note of the cuckoo, a phantom of a voice, no hand seen or guessed at which ministered to its warning. The actors were men and women painted. I thought the fault was in them; but it was in myself, and the alteration which those many centuries-of six short twelvemonths-had wrought in me. Perhaps it was fortunate for me that the play of the evening was but an indifferent comedy, as it gave me time to crop some unreasonable expectations, which might have interfered with the genuine emotions with which I was soon after enabled to enter upon the first appearance to me of Mrs. Siddons in "Isabella.” Comparison and retrospection soon yielded to the present attraction of the scene; and

the theatre became to me, upon a new stock, the most delightful of recreations.

After this robbery of "ELIA," my conscience forces me to declare that I wish every reader would save me from the shame of further temptation to transgress, by ordering "ELIA" into his collection. There is no volume in our language so full of beauty, truth, and feeling, as the volume of "ELIA." I am convinced that every person who has not seen it, and may take the hint, will thank me for acquainting

him with a work which he cannot look

nto without pleasure, nor lay down without regret. It is a delicious book.

SHERBORNE BELLS.

On this day it is a custom to exercise the largest bell of one of our country churches, in the manner described in the following communication.

TOLLING DAY.

For the Every-Day Book. The 23d of September has obtained in Sherborne, Dorset, the name of "tollingday," in commemoration of the death of John Lord Digby, baron Digby of Sherborne, and earl of Bristol, in the year MDCXCVIII. and in conformity with the following wish expressed in a codicil annexed to his lordship's will.

" Item, I give and bequeath out of my said estate to the parish church, the yearly sum of ten pounds, to be paid by my successors, lords of the said manor for the time being, at and upon, or within forty days after, the feast days of St. Michael the archangel, and of the annunciation of our blessed lady St. Mary the virgin, by equal portions yearly and for ever, and to be employed and bestowed by the churchwardens of the said parish for the time being, with the consent of the lord of the said manor for the time being, in keeping in good repair the chancel, and towards the reparations of the rest of the said church, yearly and for ever; provided that my successors, the lord or lords of the said manor for the time being, shall have and enjoy a convenient pew, or seat, in the said chancel for himself and family for ever; and provided that the said churchwardens for the time being, shall cause the largest bell in the tower of the said church, to be tolled six full hours, that is to say, from five to nine of the clock in the forenoon, and

from twelve o'clock till two in the afternoon, on that day of the said month whereon it shall be my lot to depart this life, every year and for ever; otherwise this gift of ten pounds per annum shall determine and be void."

This custom is annually observed, but not to the extent above intended, the tolling of the bell being limited to two hours instead of six. It begins to toll at six o'clock and continues till seven in the morning, when six men, who toll the bell for church service, repair to the mansion of the present earl Digby, with two large stone jars, which are there filled with some of his lordship's strong beer, and, with a quantity of bread and cheese, taken to the church by the tollers and equally divided amongst them, together with a small remuneration in money paid by the churchwardens as a o'clock the bell is again tolled till one, compensation for their labour. At twelve and in the evening divine service is performed at the church, and a lecture suited to the occasion delivered from the pulpit; for which lecture or sermon the vicar is paid thirty pounds, provided by the will of the above donor.

BOW BELLS.

R. T.

NATURALISTS' CALENDAR. Mean Temperature. . . 55 40.

September 25.

SEA SIDE SPORTS.

There is an exhilarating effect in the sea-air and coast scenery, which inland views or atmosphere, however fine, fail to communicate.

On the 25th of September, 1825, a gentleman and lady came out of one of the hotels near the Steyne, and after taking a fair start, set off running round the Steyne. They both ran very swiftly, but the young lady bounded forward with the agility of the chamois and the fleetness of the deer, and returned to the spot from whence they started a considerable distance before the gentleman. She appeared much pleased with her victory. There were but few persons on the Steyne at the time, but those who were there, expressed their admiration at the swiftness of this second Atalanta.*

"Brighton stands facing the sea, on the bare cliffs, with glazed windows to reflect the glaring sun, and black pitchy bricks shining like the scales of fishes. The town is however gay with the influx of London visiters-happy as the conscious abode of its sovereign! Every thing here appears in motion-coming or going. People at a watering-place may be compared to the flies of a summer; or to fashionable dresses, or suits of clothes, walking about the streets. The only idea you gain is, of finery and motion. The road between London and Brighton, presents some very charming scenery; Reigate is a prettier English countrytown than is to be found anywhere-out of England! As we entered Brighton in the evening, a Frenchman was playing and singing to a guitar.-The genius of

the south had come out to meet us."

When Mr. Hazlitt arrived at Brighton, it was in the full season. He says, "A lad offered to conduct us to an inn.

Brighton paper.

'Did he think there was room?' He was sure of it. 'Did he belong to the inn?' No,' he was from London. In fact, he was a young gentleman from town, who had been stopping some time at the White-horse hotel, and who wished to employ his spare time (when he was not riding out on a blood-horse) in serving the house, and relieving the perplexities of his fellow-travellers. No one but a Londoner would volunteer his assistance in this way. Amiable land of Cockayne, happy in itself, and in making others happy! Blest exuberance of selfsatisfaction, that overflows upon others! Delightful impertinence, that is forward to oblige them!"

It is here both in place and season, to quote a passage of remarkably fine thought:

The

"There is something in being near the sea, like the confines of eternity. It is a new element, a pure abstraction. mind loves to hover on that which is endless, and for ever the same. People wonder at a steam-boat, the invention of man, managed by man, that makes its liquid path like an iron railway through the sea I wonder at the sea itself, that vast Leviathan, rolled round the earth, smiling in its sleep, waked into fury, fathomless, boundless, a huge world of water-drops. -Whence is it, whither goes it, is it of eternity or of nothing? Strange ponderous riddle, that we can neither penetrate nor grasp in our comprehension, ebbing and flowing like human life, and swallowing it up in thy remorseless womb,-what

art thou? What is there in common between thy life and ours, who gaze at thee? Blind, deaf and old, thou seest not, hearest not, understandest not; neither do we understand, who behold and listen to thee! Great as thou art, unconscious of thy greatness, unwieldy, enormous, preposterous twin-birth of matter, rest in thy dark, unfathomed cave of mystery, mocking human pride and weakness. Still is it given to the mind of man to wonder at thee, to confess its ignorance, and to stand in awe of thy stupendous might and majesty, and of its own being, that can question thine!"*