ing a theatre. The younger part of the company may not recollect the theatre to which I allude; but there are some who with me may remember, by name, the the atre in Carrubber's-close. There Allan Ramsay established his little theatre. His own pastoral was not fit for the stage, but it has its own admirers in those who love the Doric language in which it is written; and it is not without merits of a very peculiar kind. But, laying aside all considerations of his literary merit, Allan was a good, jovial, honest fellow, who could crack a bottle with the best. "The memory of Allan Ramsay." Mr. P. ROBERTSON.-I feel that I am about to tread on ticklish ground. The talk is of a new theatre, and a bill may be presented for its erection, saving always, and provided the expenses be defrayed and carried through, provided always it be not opposed. Bereford-park, or some such place, might be selected, provided always due notice was given, and so we might have a playhouse, as it were, by possibility. Sir WALTER SCOTT.-Wherever the new theatre is built, I hope it will not be large. There are two errors which we commonly commit the one arising from our pride, the other from our poverty. If there are twelve plans, it is odds but the largest, without any regard to comfort, or an eye to the probable expense, is adopted. There was the college projected on this scale, and undertaken in the same manner, and who shall see the end of it? It has been build. ing all my life, and may probably last during the lives of my children, and my children's children. Let it not be said when we commence a new theatre, as was said on the occasion of laying the foundation-stone of a certain building, “Behold the endless work begun." Play-going folks should attend somewhat to convenience. The new theatre should, in the first place, be such as may be finished in eighteen months or two years; and, in the second place, it should be one in which we can hear our old friends with comfort. It is better that a theatre should be crowded now and then, than to have a large theatre, with benches continually empty, to the discouragement of the actors, and the discomfort of the spectators. Sir WALTER immediately afterwards said, "Gentlemen, it is now wearing late, and I shall request permission to retire. Like Partridge, I may say, non sum qualis eram.' At my time of day, I can agree with Lord Ogleby, as to the rheumatism, and say, There's a twinge.' I hope, therefore, you will excuse me for leaving the chair."(The worthy baronet then retired amidst long, loud, and rapturous cheering.) These extracts* contain the substance of Sir Walter Scott's speeches on this memorable occasion. His allusions to actors and the drama are, of themselves, important; but his avowal of himself as the author of the "Waverley Novels," is a fact of peculiar interest in literary history. Particular circumstances, however, had made known the "Great Unknown " to several persons in London some months previously, though the fact had not by any means been generally circulated. Hot Meals. POWELL, THE FIRE-EATER. The jack-puddings who swallow flame at Ashbourn, Derbyshire, Jan. 20, 1755. Last spring, Mr. Powell, the famous fireeater, did us the honour of a visit at this town; and, as he set forth in his printed bills, that he had shown away not only before most of the crowned heads in Europe, but even before the Royal Society of London, and was dignified with a curious and very ample silver medal, which, he said, was bestowed on him by that learned body, as a testimony of their approbation, for eating what nobody else could eat, I was prevailed upon, at the importunity of some friends, to go and see a sight, that so many great kings and philosophers had not thought below their notice. And, I confess, though neither a superstitious nor an incurious man, I was not a little astonished at his wonderful performances in the fire-eating way. From the report of the "Edinburgh Evening Cou rant" of Saturday, 24th Feb. 1827; in "The Times" of the Tuesday following. After many restless days and nights, and the profoundest researches into the nature of things, I almost despaired of accounting for the strange phenomenon of a human and perishable creature eating red hot coals, taken indiscriminately out of a large fire, broiling steaks upon his tongue, swallowing huge draughts of liquid fire as greedily as a country squire does roast beef and strong beer. Thought I to myself, how can that element, which we are told is ultimately to devour all things, be devoured itself, as familiar diet, by a mortal man?-Here I stuck, and here I might have stuck, if I had not met with the following anecdote by M. Panthot, doctor of physic and member of the college of Lyons: "The secret of fire-eating was made public by a servant to one Richardson, an Englishman, who showed it in France about the year 1667, and was the first performer of the kind that ever appeared in Europe. It consists only in rubbing the hands, and thoroughly washing the mouth, lips, tongue, teeth, and other parts that are to touch the fire, with pure spirit of sulphur. This burns and cauterizes the epidermis, or upper skin, till it becomes as hard as thick leather, and every time the experiment is tried it becomes still easier than before. But if, after it has been very often repeated, the upper skin should grow so callous and horny as to become troublesome, washing the parts affected with very warin water, or hot wine, will bring away all the shrivelled or parched epidermis. The flesh, however, will continue tender and unfit for such business till it has been frequently rubbed over again with the same spirit. "This preparative may be rendered much stronger and more efficacious, by mixing equal quantities of spirit of sulphur, sal ammoniac, essence of rosemary, and juice of onions. "The bad effects which frequently swallowing red-hot coals, melted sealing wax, rosin, brimstone, and other calcined and inflammable matter, might have had upon his stomach, were prevented by drinking plentifully of warm water and oil, as soon as he left the company, till he had vomited all up again." My author further adds, that any person who is possessed of this secret, may safely walk over burning coals, or red-hot ploughshares; and he fortifies his assertion by the example of blacksmiths and forgemen, many of whom acquire such a degree of callosity, by often handling hot things, that they will carry a glowing bar of iron in their naked hands, without hurt. Whether Mr. Powell will take it kindly of me thus to have published his secret, I cannot tell; but as he now begins to drop into years, has no children that I know of, and may die suddenly, or without making a will, I think it is a great pity so genteel an occupation should become one of the artes perditæ, as possibly it may, if proper care is not taken; and therefore hope, after this information, some true-hearted Englishman will take it up again for the honour of his country, when he reads in the newspapers, Yesterday died, much lamented, the famous Mr. Powell. He was the best, if not the only fire-eater in this world, and it is greatly to be feared his art is dead with him. GENIUS UNREWARDED. We have been lately honoured with the presence of the celebrated Mr. Powell, who, I suppose, must formerly have existed in a comet; and by one of those unforeseen accidents which sometimes happen to the most exalted characters, has dropped from its tail. His common food is brimstone and fire, which he licks up as eagerly as a hungry peasant would a mess of pottage; he feeds on this extraordinary diet before princes and peers, to their infinite satisfaction; and such is his passion for this terrible element, that if he were to come hungry into your kitchen, while a sirloin was roasting, he would eat up the fire, and leave the beef. It is somewhat surprising, that the friends of real merit have not yet promoted him, living, as we do, in an age favourable to men of genius: Mr. Johnson has been rewarded with a pension for writing, and Mr. Sheridan for speaking well; but Mr. Powell, who eats well, has not yet been noticed by any administration. Obliged to wander from place to place, instead of indulging himself in private with his favourite dish, he is under the uncomfortable necessity of eating in public, and helping himself from the kitchen fire of some paltry alehouse in the country. O tempora! O mores! * * Lounger's Common Place Book. For the Table Book. This fair is held always on the second Thursday in March: it is a good one for cattle; and, in consequence of the great show, the inhabitants are obliged to shut up their windows; for the cattle and the drivers are stationed in all parts of the town, and few except the jobbers venture out during the time of selling. From five to six o'clock the preceding evening, carts, chiefly belonging to Yorkshire clothiers, begin to arrive, and continue coming in until the morning, when, at about eight or nine, the cattle fair begins, and lasts till three in the afternoon. Previously to any article being sold, the fair is proclaimed in a manner depicted tolerably well in the preceding sketch. At ten, two individuals, named Matthew Horn VOL. I.-11. and John Deighton, having furnished themselves with a fiddle and clarinet, walk through the different avenues of the town three times, playing, as they walk, chiefly "God save the King;" at the end of this, some verses are repeated, which I have not the pleasure of recollecting; but I well remember, that thereby the venders are authorized to commence selling. After it is reported through the different stalls that they've walked the fair," business usually commences in a very brisk manner. 66 Mat. Horn has the best cake booth in the fair, and takes a considerable deal more money than any "spice wife," (as women are called who attend to these dainties.) Jack Deighton is a shoemaker, and a tolerably good musician. Coals are also brought for sale, which, with cattle, mainly constitute the morning fair, At the close of the cattle fair, the town is swept clean, and lasses walk about with their "sweethearts," and the fair puts on another appearance. "Cheap John's here the day," with his knives, combs, bracelets, &c. &c. The "great Tom Mathews," with his gallanty show, generally contrives to pick up a pretty bit of money by his droll ways. Then Here's spice Harry, gingerbread, Harry-Harry-Harry!" from Richmond, with his five-and-twenty lumps of gingerbread for sixpence. Harry stands in a cart, with his boxes of "spice" beside him, attracting the general attention of the whole fair, (though he is seldomer here than at Brough-hill fair.) There are a few shows, viz. Scott's sleight of hand, horse performances, &c. &c.; and, considering the size of the town, it has really a very merry-spent fair, At six o'clock dancing begins in nearly all the public-houses, and lasts the whole of a merry neet." Jack Deighton mostly plays at the greatest dance, namely, at the Swan inn; and his companion, Horn, at one of the others; the dances are merely jigs, three reels, and four reels, and country dances, and no more than three sets can dance at a time. It is a matter of course to give the fiddler a penny or two-pence each dance; sometimes however another set slips in after the tune's begun, and thus trick the player. By this time nearly all the stalls are cleared away, and the "merry neet” is the only place to resort to for amusement. The fiddle and clarinet are to be heard every where; and it is astonishing what money is taken by the fiddlers. Some of the "spice wives," too, stop till the next morning, and go round with their cakes at intervals, which they often sell more of than before. At this festival at Brough, the husbandmen have holiday, and many get so tipsy that they are frequently turned off from their masters. Several of the “ spice wives move away in the afternoon to Kirby Stephen, where there is a very large fair, better suited to their trade, for it commences on the day ensuing. Unfortunately, I was never present at the proclamation. From what I saw, I presume it is in consequence of a charter, and that these people offer their services that the fair-keepers may commence selling their articles sooner. never heard of their being paid for their trouble. They are constantly attended by a crowd of people, who get on the carts. and booths, and, at the end, set up a loud "huzza !" W. H. H. I Garrick Plays. No. VIII. [From the "Game at Chess," a Comedy, by Thomas Middleton, 1624.] Popish Priest to a great Court Lady, whom he hopes to make a Convert of. Let me contemplate; With holy wonder season my access, And by degrees approach the sanctuary [From the "Virgin Widow," a Comedy, 1649; the only production, in that kind, of Francis Quarles, Author of the Emblems.] Song. How blest are they that waste their weary hours In solemn groves and solitary bowers, Where neither eye nor ear Can see or hear The frantic mirth And false delights of frolic earth; Where neither grief consumes, nor griping want Away, false joys; ye murther where ye kiss: There is no heaven to that, no life to this. [From tr Adrasta," a Tragi-comedy, by To close and wrap thee up in massy gold ; John Jones, 1635.] Die, die, ah die! We all must die: 'Tis Fate's decree; Then ask not why. Dirge. When we were framed, the Fates consultedly Did make this law, that all things born should die. Yet Nature strove, And did deny We should be slaves To Destiny. At which, they heapt Such misery; And therewithal to send thee unto me, To whom of duty thou dost best belong. My father hath in all his life bewrayed A princely care and tender love to me: But this surpasseth, in his latter days |