mention the stage or those who tread it. One highly gifted individual,
when alive, enjoyed a discourse on the merits of Molyneux, the small
talk of the P.C., or a vivid description of an old-school fight;
another has a keen relish for all matters connected with the Great
St. Ledger--the state of the odds against the outside fillies for the
Oaks--the report of those deep versed in veterinary lore, upon the
cough of the favourite for the Derby; you cannot please a certain
excellent melo-dramatic actor better than by placing him alongside of
an enthusiastic young sailor, who will talk with him about maintops
and mizens--sky-scrapers and shrouds--

of gallant ships,
Proudly floating o'er the dark blue ocean.


The eternal theme of one old gentleman is his parrot, and another
chatters incessantly about his pupils. Some of the singers--the serious
order of singers--are as namby-pamby off the stage as they are on it,
unless revelling in "sweet sounds;" they are too fond of humming tunes,
solfaing, and rehearsing graces in society; they have plenty to sing,
but nothing to say for themselves; they chime the quarters like "our
grandmother's clock," and at every revolution of the minute index,
strike up their favourite tune. This is as bad as being half-smothered
in honey, or nearly

Washed to death in fulsome wine.


There is one actor on the stage who is ever attempting to show the
possibility of achieving impossibilities; he is one of the most pleasant