THOMAS WIGNELL, Actor Manager

Wignell etc., from William Wood's Personal Recollections of the Stage, Henry Carey Baird, Philadelphia, 1854.

Returning to New York, a sudden thought flashed across my brain, and surely, for the very first time without health or the aid of able friends, I bethought me of the stage. Some circumstances had brought the well-known theatrical manager, Mr. Wignell, to my mind as an old friend of my father, and with all 30, I determined to try my fortune with boy's impetuosity, him, certain at least of a friendly reception, however my attempt in acting might be discouraged, or ultimately fail. To Mr. Wignell accordingly I determined to address myself. But he was at this time in Annapolis, to which he had been originally driven by peculiar circumstances, to which I may advert.

When Mr. Wignell first landed his company on the American soil, in Sept. 1793, they encountered at their very arrival intelligence of the prevalence of that dreadful malady known as the yellow fever, which prevailed so awfully in Philadelphia more than once at the close of the last century, and which for years had the effect of destroying the well laid plans and excellent arrangements of this judicious and indefatigable manager. So complete was his establishment on the arrival of his first company in 1793, that before the Philadelphia house could be opened a debt of 20,000 dollars nearly had been incurred. Of course this heavy burden was increased by these visitations of pestilence. The frightful state of the city in 1793 (the year when the fever raged with dreadful fury) compelled him to quarter his large force in different villages of Jersey, where a monstrous debt was hourly accumulating in salaries alone; nearly every performer having claims, by the terms of the contract made in England, for his pay from the moment of his arrival. For ten preceding years the organization and plans of each season had been either changed or defeated by the return of this destructive epidemic. In 1797 the company, exiled by the pestilence to New York, performed in that city, where the place of exhibition was a large building in Greenwich street, called the Pantheon, and recently altered and enlarged from a circus to a theatre, by Mr. Fennell, who held it for a very short term. The company was at this time of an extent and power never since equaled. It numbered, for comedy and tragedy, Fennell, Cooper, Moreton, Wignell, Fox, Mrs. Merry, Mrs. Oldmixon, Mr. and Mrs. Marshall, Miss Broadhurst, Mr. and Mrs. Warren, Mr. and Mrs. Morris, Mr. and Mrs. Harding, Mr. Harwood, Mr. and Mrs. Bernard, Mr. Blissett, Mr. and Mrs. Francis, Mr. Warren, Mr. and Mrs. Byrne (dancers,) and many more.

The dread of the returning pestilence drove the company, in 1798, to Annapolis, and thither I set off in this year to attempt the stage; my father's acquaintance with Mr. Wignell being, as I have said, a sufficient motive for my going so far With three doubloons in my pocket, and a very doubtful heart, I turned my back on New York, where I had resided from the year 1784. It happened that on my journey from Baltimore to Annapolis, (which at this time occupied a long wearisome summer's day) my only fellow travelers were two gentlemen of Mary land, revolutionary officers, who, with true Southern politeness, engaged me in conversation; and interested, as they afterwards confessed, by my youth, feebleness of appearance, and anxious inquiries relative to the theatre, led me to state very frankly what was the object of my expedition, my knowledge of Mr. Wignell, and wishes as to the stage.

On our arrival at Annapolis we parted, after they had directed me to the best hotel, and done me other civilities. But this was only the commencement of a series of kindnesses continued in that city through a long course of years. While waiting in anxiety and impatience at the hotel for the hour of opening the theatre doors, I was much surprised by a call from my friendly fellow passengers, and a request that I would meet them in the boxes after my interview with Mr. Wignell, and become known to their friends. In short, the evening ended in a most kind reception from the manager, and an introduction to the principal families of Annapolis, who composed the small but delightful audience at this time.

I must be excused for dwelling a moment on this circumstance, not that there was anything unusual in the matter, but as inducting me, at this interesting period of my life, into a circle of society well calculated to form my future habits of life and conduct. I was at this time little more than 19 years old, with rather an ardent temperament, and a moderate share of discretion. I have always reckoned among the greatest advantages of my youth, this opportunity of forming attachments with persons of so much worth, and of a firmness of regard which ceased but with their lives. The following extract of a letter, written at the time to a young friend, will perhaps be tolerated as a detail of my feelings, hopes, and fears.

" Monday.-You cannot imagine the embarrassment I felt in making known my wishes to my father's old friend, Wignell ; notwithstanding his intimacy in our family, and a complimentary allusion to my having received a prize or two at school for elocution, a matter it seems he remembered better than I did at the moment. He has appointed me an interview in the morning. After this visit to him, in his room behind the scenes, I hurried to the front. The play was' Every One has his Fault,' and the cast, with one or two exceptions, good, but the ill-dressing of the old John street company never equalled the absurd variety exhibited on this occasion. Lord Norland was well enough in a court suit-Morris looked like the wearer of the first cut of coat and vest, when the earliest approach to modern dress was attempted. Mr. Placid walked about the streets in a black silk stockinet, full suit, trimmed and sparkling with black bugles. Captain Irwin looked like the latest edition of a modern disbanded officer, as he should. Warren as Harmony, was properly equipped, while the servants reveled in every age and variety of livery. The ladies were appropriately habited, as was the boy Edward, delightfully acted by Mrs. Marshall. Few who have witnessed her performance of this character, can have forgotten it. Bernard (the worst dresser on the stage,) was as usual in the rearward of fashion at least half a century, but acted Sir Robert so well that his dress was wholly overlooked, or pardoned." " Tuesday.-The awful meeting is over. Mr. Wignell began with such a grave look, that my heart sunk within me. He requested me to recite some few pas sages he named, and was silent as to the execution.
He doubtless perceived my extreme terror and embarrassment. So extreme indeed was it, that I feel entirely certain that no public effort can be more dreadful, than is this trial before a friend; after some occasional remarks, evidently made to give me time for rallying a little, he requested a further essay. I recited again and much better ( at least not so execrably), as he said and I felt. When I had finished, he took my hand in his, and with an expression of his fine face that baffled all my efforts to explain, said very calmly, , My dear boy, I much fear your friends at home will not be pleased with this experiment of yours. However, I well know the impetuosity of young folks in regard to our profession, and am glad you applied to me rather than to a stranger. You shall have an opportunity of trying your ability here at once, in this place, although you will have to face as intelligent an audience for its number, as can be found in America. The best discrimination and judgment will doubtless be tempered with a proportionate indulgence and kindness; for I have ever remarked the most fastidious and severe judges to be the vulgar and uneducated. To one condition you must bind yourself, should I consider your attempt hopelessly bad-you must return to your friends, and give up all thoughts of the stage.' I made him this promise, and will keep it. He has given me a list of ten or twelve characters to choose from, not one of which I like, but dare not say so, for I am fully assured he is anxious for my success. After some pause, I decided on George Barnwell. One or two that I preferred, he discouraged at once, frankly giving as his reason, that Moreton had been very happy in them, and that a comparison could not fail to be injurious, if not fatal to me. I have seen Moreton often, and feel too painfully the truth and judgment of Mr.Wignell.' , "Friday.-The rehearsals are over, and (shall I call it ?) the performance is past. The first was perhaps as distressing nearly as the latter, although the per formers all seemed kind and desirous to aid me. No one among them, surely could be so humble as to fear any rivalry from me.
"Before I go to rest, let me endeavor to recall the of this night, on which so much of events and feelings the happiness or misery of future years may depend. A large and elegant assemblage greeted my appearance, and nearly deprived me of all power to proceed. I feel that my deportment must have been deplorable; and even the few speeches, on which, from my rehearsal, I had built some slight hopes, were given either with a pitiable feebleness, or a scarcely less pitiable attempt at character, which my agitation utterly deprived me of the power to execute. Mr. Wignell is affectionate, but alarms me by his silence. Mr. and Mrs. Merry have been kind and encouraging, pointing out some of my most prominent faults, whi]e they promise me future counsel. This "future" seems to say they do not consider it quite a lost cause. I feel most sensibly the difficulties and dangers of my attempt. If the liberal forbearance and indulgent kindness of these generous Marylanders have scarcely enabled me to proceed through my first effort, what will be my terror and insufficiency when brought to face elsewhere a larger audience, wholly uninfluenced by the kind feelings which my youth and favorable private introduction have procured for me here ?"

" Saturday, June 27th.-While rehearsing Charles Stanley this morning, I was seized with a strange giddiness and violent pain in the head; fortunately Mr. Bernard was near, and prevented my falling into the orchestra. N o chance of my playing to-night." " July16th.-This is the first day for three long weeks that I have enjoyed the least consciousness of where I was, or how my days have passed. What hospitable, what charitable beings are these Annapolitans! I now learn for the first time, from my generous hosts, Mr. and Mrs. Kilty, that when Mr. Wignell prepared to commence his autumn season at Baltimore, he found himself compelled to leave me at Annapolis, suffering under a most dangerous attack of southern fever, perfectly delirious, and wholly unconscious of all around . but not until he had provided an excellent nurse, me , fine airy apartments, and every possible comfort. But far more kindness was in store for me, of which I was doomed to remain unconscious for weeks. The recollections of this period of my life will never fail to revive emotions almost painfully intense. A stranger, a boy in appearance as well as in years, without a single reference as to character-my very helplessness seems to have been my recommendation. If I ever have a son, may neglect, or worse be on him, should he forget those friends and comforters! The very day succeeding Mr. Wignell's departure for Baltimore, my good hosts sent for Mrs. Lloyd's carriage, and removed me to their house, (insensible to all that passed,) where I have remained until this day."

" 2d. My strength is so far recovered, that I feel I ought to delay no longer in joining Mr. Wignell at Baltimore. On announcing my intention, my hosts in sist on a day or two longer stay to recruit, placing some money in my hand, &c., &c. I leave this spot with a heavy but truly grateful heart. The events of the last two months are like a strange wild dream." " Baltimore, 12th.-Mr. Wignell suggests the Young Bramin, in the tragedy of the' Widow of Malabar,' for my first appearance here. It is an interesting and easy part, with little passion, and safe declamation for a novice. Besides, what is still better, Mrs. Merry, for whom the play was written, does me the favor to act the Sister, and will aid me with her advice, as well as conceal some of my defects by her skill and care.' , " Thursday.-The trial here is past, and nothing painful has attended the attempt, which Mr. and Mrs. Merry assure me was a great improvement on the first, while the audience, after an encouraging plaudit or two, endured me patiently through the part. This was quite as much as I expected, and I fear more than I merited. At rehearsal I began to feel tolerably easy, but at night my terror was far greater than at Annapolis. Indeed, every line I utter on the stage gives me new insight into the vast difficulties of an actor's profession, and each hour passed behind the scenes, shows me how little professional pride is to be found where vulgar vanity too often usurps its place.
" How different is a theatre from our preconceived notions of one' A few weeks have shown me the violence of envy, jealousy, and the pangs of disappointed hope and ambition. Am I then doomed to pass my life, short as it promises to be, in this strange mimic world ? No one do I see of either sex, even moderately contented, much less happy. The greater proportion, particularly the comic department, are positively miserable. One or two professional disputes have occurred of so violent a character, that nothing less than the firm authority exercised by Mr. Wignell could have checked or prevented their becoming a public talk. I am sick at heart, but will still hope to find some calmer sphere of action.
" I like Harwood most of all the actors after Mr. Wignell, although I cannot say he seems much interested in my success. May he not wish me well, and feel that success on the stage is the worst fortune that can befall me ? This thought gives me some concern. I remarked that on the news of John Palmer's sudden and awful death, while acting the Stranger, Harwood's conversation would incline any one to believe he thought it by no means an event to be regretted. He often hints at leaving the stage, complains of its labors, uncertainties and mortifications. Yet at night,.when dressed for his characters, he seems as much in love with his profession as the meerest novice. He appears to me much better bred and educated than most of our friends of the stage. Indeed, at times there is a little display of mental cultivation that I can see is anything but pleasing to some of the persons about him. Francis, who seems a good fellow, and honestly pretends to no education, frequently complains of his Latin and classical quotations, and wishes that like Macklin he could pay him back in Irish or Welsh."

CHAPTER II.
1798.

First appearance in Philadelphia-" A sorry sight"-Grief of a school.
mate at tbe degradation-High notions from the truck market-1800First tbeatre in Washington-Its liberal patronage and early difficulties -Strong company, and the National theatre established-Capt. Woolsoncraft-Limited real knowledge the world has of actors-Plan and terms of the summer season-Alexandria in 1804-0ur first attempt there-unexpected opposition-Sudden resource-returning toleration -Success of the company-Southern hospitality-A manager's errorVisit to Birmingbam-Mrs. Marshall-Merry's death and character.

IN December, 1798, Mr. Wignell ventured to present me before a Philadelphia audience, a step requiring all his skill and experience. My late illness at An napolis had reduced me to a mere skeleton, and Ihave serious doubts whether any other instance of such extreme bareness can be remembered by the public, until the advent of CalvinEdson ( of whom I shall have a word to say hereafter). It happened that at this time, Morton's charming comedy of " Secrets worth Knowing" was produced in London. Among the dramatic per sonages is a queer creature, an emaciated young profligate, described as a man of twenty with the constitution of one of eighty. a silly rattlebrain, dissipated, in every way, but particularly devoted to horsefarriery, and such other pursuits. It occurred to Wignell that the present was a favorable opportunity to smuggle me before the public, in a character altogether original, and safe from comparisons; a most important matter on the introduction of a novice. The experiment was ajudicious one, and in part succeeded. The spareness and debility, which could scarcely appear wholly coun terfeited, although ill calculated to amuse, certainly had the advantage of exciting no small degree of sympathy in numbers, who left the house wholly uncertain whether to applaud a clever but painful delineation, or regret the necessity which occasioned the exposure of so pitiable an object. The character, badly acted, failed of all the comic effect designed by the author, w ho received ample justice at the hands of the other actors. A trifling incident will prove the mournful effect of this comic effort. On the morning succeeding the play, an old New York schoolmate called upon me to express his regret at seeing me on the stage, under any circum stances, but especially in the condition my last night's attempt had so painfully exhibited me. It was shame enough, he thought, to be degraded to the stage, but in such a plight it was too humiliating. These friendly and encouraging hints were received. with the simple assurance that necessity and not choice had compelled this course, so mortifying to my friends-a course which I would gladly relinquish could any other means of support be suggested. This hint, however, was not noticed by my sympathizing friend, who, after shedding a profusion of tears, and offering advice, left me to my fate. The degradation so bitterly felt by this man, who had risen to more than competence by the aid of others, did not, I confess, strike me so forcibly when I recollected that but a few years previously his own parents, honest and respected in their situation, had occupied a vegetable stand in the market, supplied from a garden industriously worked by their own hands.

In the spring of the year 1800, Mr. Wignell received a pressing request to establish a theatre at the new city of W ashington ; and to facilitate this purpose, fortunately, a building was offered every way suitable, situ ated nearly in the centre of the new metropolis. A company of gentlemen had erected, but not completed, (for the purpose of a large hotel originally,) the extensive building, subsequently known for many years as the post-office and patent office, unfortunately after wards destroyed by fire. It consisted of a large, spa cious centre building, with two extensive wings. The former was offered by the proprietors as an eligible structure for our purpose; and its capacious size afforded ample space for such accommodation as would be required in furnishing dramatic entertainments to the citizens of Washington, Georgetown and Alexandria, as well as of the extended neighborhood around. In the size and loftiness of this central edifice Mr. Lenthall found full scope for the completion of his purpose, while the manager prepared, at Philadelphia, scenery, an artificial dome, and the embellishments of the audience part, so as to have them in readiness to be put up without delay upon their arrival at Wash ington. But poor Wignell's ill-fortune, constant to him on all occasions, did not fail to check his plan, so well contrived and at a large cost. On the way to W ash ington a furious storm of rain invaded the wagons, and drenched the tasteful labors of the painters so seriously as to make it necessary to repaint nearly the whole, besides occasioning a considerable delay in open ing the house. Not a jot discouraged, however, this
excellent man persevered in his exertions; and after innumerable difficulties incident to the unprovided state of the place, and at great expense, he at length opened

THE FIRST THEATRE IN WASHINGTON

With an appropriate address, written by the late Thomas Law, Esq., who continued to aid the enterprise, not only with his pen and his influence, but with his purse; he was ably seconded by several other gentlemen of liberality and taste. The opening play of " V enice Preserved" was well acted by Messrs. Wignell, Cooper and Mrs. Merry, as Jaffier, Prince and Belvi dera, and warmly received and applauded by an audience, more numerous, as well as splendid, than can be conceived from a population so slender and so scat tered. The encouragement continued to exceed his expectations, yet fell very far below his expenditure, as his company consisted of every one ofthe persons who composed the Philadelphia establishment. Mr. Wignell's main object was to obtain a footing in Wash ington, where he might keep together his company during the summer, in the event of a recurrence of the pestilence, which was regarded as but too probable. It may be justice to add, that he ever expressed a degree of pride at having established a theatre at the metropolis of our country, and acted on the first night of any performance at the foundation of what was properly entitled The National Theatre. From the citizens of W ashington the principal performers received the most gratifying attention and hospitality. Many of us commenced at this period acquaintances and friendships which have continued with unabated kindnesS through a long course of succeeding years. Of the large company presented by Mr. Wignell, there remained forty-three years afterwards only Mrs. Darley, (then Miss E. Westray,) Cooper, and Blissett.
At this time Cooper and Mrs. Merry encountered a valued English friend in the person of Captain Woolstoncraft (brother to the celebrated Mary, afterwards wife of Godwin, Cooper's guardian). Captain W ools toncraft was a large, heavy looking, ill-formed man, promising little at first sight. He had been for some time serving in the U. S. Infantry, but was now employed at or near W ashington. His lively and intelligent manner and conversation was strangely contrasted with his awkward, unprepossessing appearance. He remained some years in the service, and with credit ;
when he married a young lady of fortune, as was said, and retired from the army. During the many cheerful hours .he passed with us I never heard a single disloyal or unkind remark, either from him, Cooper, or Mr. Merry, in regard to English politics. This struck me the more, as all these persons had suffered more or less from their reputed ultra opinions. So little is generally known of actors! The partial success of Mr. Wignell's experiment encouraged some friends of the drama, a few years afterwards, to erect a more durable dramatic temple on the Pennsylvania Avenue. This building, now used as Mr. Carusi's dancing saloon, was leased and occupied by the Philadelphia company for several years, when it was rendered useless by a conflagration, in 1820, which left nothing but the walls. This .accident was occasioned by the neglect of some wandering exhibitor, to whom the building was granted for a night's performance. The site of the house was always much complained of, and the manager declined any steps towards rebuilding it. An excellent and prudent feature in Mr. Wignell's management, was his system of employing the company in the summer, during the regular recess. Besides the reasons formerly given, (to employ them at a distance from the cities during the season of fever,) it enabled him to avoid the annoyance and uncertainty of collect ing so numerous a body together (frequently number ing seventy or eighty persons) for the autumn season at Baltimore, and also gave to the junior portion of the performers the means of uninterrupted practice and study. The management was on the sharing plan, graduated by the winter salaries; and was continued by his suc cessors for a long series of years with great advantage, indeed until the starring system was introduced, to the speedy ruin of these comfortable safe companies, and finally to the utter prostration of the larger .establishments. It must also be remarked here, that the first failing season in Washington was that in which the star system was introduced, and no succeeding one has ever equalled the success of earlier years. Finding it unwise to overstrain the limited audience of Annapolis, the manager accepted an invitation to visit Alexandria, where a very large and convenient theatre had been erected some years before, for the accommodation of the Virginia company, which properly included Alexandria within its circuit. From general poverty of talent, (with one or two exceptions,) added to want of proper system in its arrangements, the theatre had been for a year or two neglected, and finally was obliged to close. The citizens, generally, were very desirous of offering their building to the Philadelphia company, but it was soon discovered that the public authorities, from disgust at the conduct of former ten ants, were unwilling to allow the opening of the house.
This determination, so wholly unexpected to the managers, by no means expressed the wishes of the citizens; who, after great but unavailing efforts to remove the prohibition, by liberal and well sustained offers of support, encouraged the managers to put up a temporary theatre without the limits of the city or its enactments.

The building was speedily erected, at the distance of more than half a mile from the city; yet the public pledge of support was most honorably and amply redeemed, and a season of pleasure and of profit well repaid the previ ous mortification. Large nightly audiences of fashion, beauty, and judgment convinced the Philadelphia party that the ill management of their predecessors could have no effect towards lessening their reception, in pub lic or private, or towards checking the good feelings of the audience who had invited them thither. Every favor that hospitality or respect could offer, was lav ished on the strangers, who evinced their gratitude by several successive seasons of earnest and well requited exertion. To these, and subsequent summer parties at W ashington, the performers, in after years, always looked back with peculiar satisfaction. As the pieces acted were always those produced previously at the north, little preparation was necessary. while the sports of the field and of the stream filled up the vacant hours most agreeably. Our friends numbered amongst them many excellent and generous sportsmen, who took pleasure in affording every facility and information necessary to our full enjoyment.
In 1805 the W ashington theatre was opened for the purpose of presenting several pieces, supported by Hodgkinson, Harwood, Mrs. Marshall, and others of professional eminence. The theatre, however, was at this time so unfinished and comfortless, that the audience, after a few nights, fell off, and a speedy close seemed inevitable. While in this drooping state, a circumstance occurred which abruptly terminated the campaign. Hodgkinson, who had been engaged as a star at a very high rate, and was relied on as the chief attraction, was seized on his arrival with an attack of yellow fever then prevailing in Baltimore, through which he passed, and died after an illness of only a few hours.
On the production of the charming comedy of The Heir at Law, Mr. Wignell was unfortunate enough to commit one of those mistakes in cast, not uncommon, except among the best and most experienced managers, and as this case showed, sometimes committed even by them, Desiring to retain the important aid of both these favorite actresses, he allotted Cicely to Mrs.
Merry. and Caroline, a very insipid young lady, to Mrs. Marshall. This lady properly considered such an allotment an affront to her acknowledged talent, and stoutly refused to accept it. She acted the part, however, for a few nights in a very careless manner, determining to secede from the company, with Mr. Marshall, at the first opportunity. On arriving at Philadelphia this determination was carried out, and the Marshalls privately took shipping for Charleston. On this fact becoming known, Wignell obtained a legal process, with which an officer was dispatched in search of the fugitives, but failed to overtake them, The loss of Mrs, Marshall was deeply felt and regretted by the public for many succeeding seasons. Wignell, who seldom committed mistakes of any sort, and especially this, the worst error of management-wasting, I mean, the be'st talent of his company on insignificant parts, which no possible a bility or exertion could raise to notice-often feelingly regretted the circumstance of this false cast, It is painful, indeed, to recollect the great number of actors driven in disgust from their situations by thought less degradations of this kind; persons, too, who would have been content with an humble but equal grade in the rank and file of the theatre. To similar errors and abuses may be attributed the vast increase of minor stars, often of positive merit, and having therefore a professional pride which revolted at the indignity of being sacrificed to the support of impudent pretenders, whose only recommendation were their presumption and their novelty. How long the Marshalls continued at Charleston is not recollected, but our next meeting was rather unexpected. On my way to London I stopped at Birmingham to present a letter to Mr, Mc Cready, the respected manager, from Bernard, his old Covent Garden friend and associate. My letter insured me a hearty welcome, and every act of the kindest hospitality. At his friendly table I was presen ted to a most interesting son of the manager, of some twelve years of age, and very attractive manners; this youth was the present Mr. William C. McCready (sic), many years afterwards well known to the American as well as to the British public. My stay at Birmingham was pro tracted considerably by the charm of Mrs. Billington's singing, and Mrs. Jordan's acting-those eminent performers being employed in fulfilling an engagement each of a few nights, at a cost to the manager of fifty guineas for each performance. Few manufacturing places suffered so severely by the war as Birmingham; many of the factories were closed, and the theatre, as might be expected, dragged heavily. Mr. McCready assured me that the gross receipts of these nights rarely reached the amount paid to the stars, leaving the manager minus to the whole amount of his expenses. In the midst of these persons, when I was little thinking of my old fellow actors, whom should I find but Mrs. Marshall. Having formerly been a distinguished favorite with the Birmingham public, she had returned to try its favor.
Unfortunately, however, in her absence of several years, her place had become occupied by younger performers, and she found herself scarcely remembered. Mrs. Jordan had just completed a round of Mrs. Mar shall's strongest characters, and the result of a short engagement was such as to render her no object to the manager. She soon afterwards took passage for America.

On the 24th of January, 1798, an event took place of a most distressing kind to me. This was the sudden death of my friend, Mr. Merry, a gentleman of the most unexceptionable personal character, and with his accomplished wife, well remembered in the elegant society of the American towns to which I have alluded. I find that my diary of that date records the event.

" January 24, 1798.-This has been a wretched day. On coming down to breakfast a scream startled me, and a moment more brought me to a little entry leading from Merry's apartment in the house where we lodged, and there lay my poor friend speechless, and without the power to move. He had been struck by apoplexy, and his speech became almost inarticulate. The ablest medical skill was instantly procured and applied, but in vain. He lingered in a state equally without pain or any return of recognition until 1 o'clock, when a second and more severe attack ended the life of a kind, uncourted friend, a true wit and acomplished gentleman." Merry had passed his early years in the gay world of Europe. Inheriting a handsome income, he travelled much, passed a considerable time in Italy, and on his return purchased a Lieutenant's Commission in the Guards, where he was well re membered for his noble person and elegant manners. He frequently aroused his friends with sketches of these fashionable years of his life, and confessed with shame and regret the enormous expenditure of £17,000 during three years of his military service. A large part of this was lost at play. He had still, however, well founded large expectations from a kinswoman strongly attached to him; but all these prospects were blighted by his forming an attachment to an actress.

This crime the old lady never could forgive, and he made the choice of his affection, sadly to the cost of his interest. The sacrifice he never for a moment regretted, and frequently contrasted his present quiet happy life, with the dissipation and bustle of his earlier years. Happy in his domestic state, his acquaintances were few and select. With them, his conversation was as attractive as his information was extensive. He frequently adverted to the poems which he had written as Della Crusca, of which it was clear he was far from thinking meanly. And I shall not easily forget the surprise with which we received the assurance that he had never by any chance seen his Anna Matilda, Mrs. Cowley, at the time these ardent epistles were exchanged. He possessed uncommon powers of conversation, yet avoided large parties as far as good breeding would allow. His manner of telling a story was quite unique. Upon his marriage, he withdrew his wife from the stage of Covent Garden, which she quitted with little regret, as a serious difficulty had occurred with the manager, Mr. Harris, relative to a piece composed by Merry, called a " Picture of Paris." In this drama a ridiculous scene, intended to be pathetic, was introduced, of two revolutionary characters. The parts were cast to Holman and Mrs. Merry. She played a night or two, and then very properly threw it up. Forfeitures were rigidly exacted, and war was declared between the parties. Fennell also refused to act some part in the same drama, and soon withdrew from the theatre. Some strictures appeared at this time on the lady's performance, accompanied by very offensive and inflammatory allusions to Mr. Merry's political opinions. He well knew the source of these at tacks, and hastened his wife's retirement from the stage. To many peculiarities he added the most extraordinary passion for puns, many of which have been adopted as their own by less able professors of that small species of wit. Among the last things which he related to me was the fact, that during a residence in France, when visiting the races at Fontainbleau, he was seated in one of the high phaetons then in use, between two unfortunate persons, Doctor Dodd and Fitzgerald; both of whom it will be remembered met their death at the bands of the executioner. " Had it been predicted," said Merry, "that of the triumvirate thus seated, two were doomed to the scaffold, I believe I should have been a little disturbed by the augury."

CHAPTER III.
1799-1801.

A busy season-Cain-Hopkins- W ashington's death-Bernard in tra gedy-Trip to Jamaica-Theatre at Spanish Town-Amateur act ing-A useful building-Professional resentment-Miss E. W estray - 'V eston-Pizarro-Strange cast-Castle Spectre-Speed the Plough -Point of Honor-Follies of a Day-Spanish Barber-Joseph and Charles Surfacc- U nlucky change of cast- Wignell's excellence-Delicate compliment-Overhearing a criticism-Sensible advieeCooper-His cxtreme carelessness at times-Reading a part-Ncw readings of Othello-Review of a singer-Stage blunders-Dull mc mory of good actors-A wonderful performer, or a modern RosignalMajor Andre-Drop curtain-Alexander thc Great-Jarnaica-Unex pectcd meeting-Byrnc-Mrs. Byrne-Ladies' taste-Ancient ballet costume-Unpleasant stage occurrence-Manly conduct of an actor.

THIS season opened with an imperfect company. Cooper had returned to New York, leaving us without a tragedian, for Cain, who was with us, was limited to the more junior heroes. To conceal our deficiency Wignell determined on producing the greatest possible novelties, and from December to May the following large list was presented: £500 a year; Jew andDoc tor; Horse and the Widow ; Constellation; The Secret, a comedy; Duplicity ; Reconciliation ; Lie of the day;
Count of Burgundy; Gustavus V asa ; He is much to blamue ; Zorinuske; P ositive Man : ( and on Cooper's return in March,) Castle Spectre, (five successive nights ;) False Shamue ; Laugh when you Can; Double Disguise; King John; Naval Pillar; Wild GO0se Chase. Pizarrooccupied the remaining nights of the season. These varieties in a short time offered fair evidence of the manager's untiring industry. A young man, named Hopkins, made a very successful debut as Tony Lumpkin, and became a popular comedian at the south. During the season the whole nation became clouded by the death of General Washington. The theatre, of course, shared in the general gloom, and a night was devoted to the performance of the " Roman Father," a well written monody, with other appropriate pieces. During the early part of this season, from the want of a leading tragedian, Bernard appeared as Shylock, Falconbridge, Hotspur, and others. Owing to bad health up to this date, my success, which though perhaps not unreasonable, fell far below the measure of my desire; the newness and strangeness of a life in the theatre, and a general depression of spirits in view of my new career, made me determine about this time to abandon the pursuit entirely, and I resolved to take a voyage to Jamaica, with a view of establishing myself in my original design of commerce. When about to embark, Wignell, who had passed some years there with the old American company, when driven abroad by the revolution, desired me to ascertain whether a short season at Kingston might not be profitable, and give a rest to the audience here. He mentioned a theatre at Spanish Town, used for several years, and yet standing. This edifice was well remembered by Mr. A. J. Dallas and Mr. John Vaughan, who were both residents of the island for some time, when theatricals were eagerly patronized by the military and naval officers, as well as the merchants, planters, and strang ers. It was very common for the principal military officers to take parts in the performance, and, as Wig nell informed me, with well deserved approbation. Others occasionally volunteered, and the single essay of Mr. Dallas in the character of Belcour, in the " W est Indian,,' was considered a very successful effort of an amateur. The theatre was something out of the common order, a large building, the ground floor was occupied as a market house, the theatre next above, while the third story was used on the Sabbath as a place of worship by a "religious congregation." Then the actors removed, the second floor was occupied by the former tenants of the first. I remained about six months in the West Indies ; but the season was one of uncommon sickliness and mortality, and I could not carry out my projects of commerce. While in Jamaica an incident occurred one day, at once sad and comical. Passing down the main street of Kingston, I suddenly approached a figure which seemed familiar; it was Byrne the dancer, whose engagement at Philadelphia had been concluded abruptly about the time when I embarked for Jamaica. We expressed mutual surprise at this meeting, as it was understood that he had returned to England. On inquiring how and why we met thus unexpectedly , Byrne stated that he had arrived from England the night previous to our meeting, in consequence of a pressing request of many leading officials and officers who had long wished for a competent teacher of Byrne's particular art. He came on shore a few hours before we met, and he assured me, with great terror and emotion, .that the frightful number of funerals, as well as gloomy representations which he encountered during this short period, had determined him to return at once, and abandon the flattering prospects of business. A vessel he said was to sail the next nmorning, in which he had taken passage for London, where he re-established his school, with most remarkable success. His son Os car evinced extraordinary ability, and soon became one of the first English dancers, retaining his popularity for many years. While speaking of Byrne, I may here mention the treatment Mrs. Byrne had received at Philadelphia ; a treatment which contrasts strongly with the receptions given to other dancers in later days. An unaccountable severity on the score of dress in dancing pre vailed, while an exact as well as ungraceful imitation of men in the performance of male characters by women, was tolerated to an extent which it would be dangerous now to follow, even in a minor theatre. What will our ladies think of Mrs. Whitlock's dress, as the peasant boy Fidele in Cymbeline ? It consisted of a tight vest, and pantaloons of a sky blue satin, fitting closely, and scarcely the apology for a very short cloak. This was the dress of one of the largest female performers ever seen on our stage, and excited no disapprobation or remark. Mrs. Marshall too degraded the stage on her benefit night, by the performance of Marplot, in a fashionable male habit of the day, but little calculated for a character which was to undergo numerous shakings, beatings, tumblings, and other per sonal assaults. Mrs. Byrne, whose profession was that of a dancer, appeared on the other hand at the Chest nut Street theatre in a dress so ample, that it would now appear unwieldy. The length of her dress waS so great that it would scarcely be now approved, the style of dancing being as delicate as that branch of art can well permit Y et she was met by a degree of disapprobation rarely witnessed in a theatre. After a withdrawal of a few nights, she reappeared, with the addition of a pair of pantalettes, tied at the ankle. But this effort to remove the difficulty failed, and the heavy engagement of Mr. and Mrs. Byrne was added to the poor manager's other misfortunes. Wignell complained bitterly, as he had engaged these performers at the urgent request of many constant supporters of the theatre. Mr. Byrne was coldly permitted to go through dances, for which he was afterwards honored by the applause and approbation of a London audience. I can well remember the mortification and distress of Mrs. Byrne under the cruel insults she suffered. The mortality of the climate to which I have alluded in connection with my meeting Byrne in the West Indies, made me determine to leave it; and I set off again for the United States. The voyage improved my health. With improved health cheerfulness came. My friends encouraged me. The manager made me liberal offers. And on my return I found myself once more on the boards of the theatre. The state of the theatre itself, too, was more encouraging than it had been, and began to show symptoms of a probable revival. Cooper was restored, and some other important accessions to the company effected. Misses E. and Juliana W es tray, two promising young actresses ( afterwards known as Mrs. J. Darley and Mrs. Wood) from the New Y ork theatre, proved valuable acquisitions. Cooper's return enabled the manager to revive many of the plays in which Mrs. Merry excelled, and long unrepre sented from want of anything like a suitable male tragedian. The young W estrays were received with the usual kindness extended to strangers, the former appearing as Amelia in Lovers' Vows, the elder sis ter as Albina Manderville in the Will. The younger Darley's return, after an absence of several years, em ployed in service as an officer in the U. S. marine corps, was met by an unpleasant reception. Some of his brother officers, conceiving his re-adoption of thea trical pursuits an ill compliment to the honorable voca tion he had quitted, resolved, on his appearance, to express their discontent; and on his entrance con siderable opposition was evinced. The audience, as usual, wholly ignorant of the cause, resisted the inter ruption, which after a short struggle ceased, and the offender was restored to the quiet possession of a creditable position on the stage. It would be useless to record all the first appearances and failures, from which must be excepted an extraordinary first effort of a young gentleman, named W estern. This novice, by a most promising debut in the difficult part of Castalio, gave earnest of future excellence. Other views, however, soon after withdrew him from the profession. Pizarro, produced on the previous season, was strengthened by the Cora of Miss E. Westray, who relieved its first representative, Mrs. Oldmixon, of a part which the necessities alone of the company induced her to undertake. Reynold's comedy of " Management" was produced with moderate success. The " Castle Spec tre's" popularity continued unabated, when fortunately its growing favor was secured by the appearance of Speed the Plough, To the performance of this delightful comedy the state of the company was happily adapted, ana the play at once took a position in public favor which succeeding seasons scarcely abated. Mr. Holman's Votary of W ealth was well received, and proved profitable, as did also Kotzbue's merry farce of The Horse and the Widow, Jephson's Law of Lombardy, St. David's Day, Trip to Fontainbleau, M. G. Lewis' East Indian, Fortune's Frolic, Columbus, Liberal Opinions, Blacksmith of Antwerp, Siege of Belgrade, Point of Honor, Alzuma, Man of Ten Thousand, Follies of a Day,( comedy,) Kotzbue's Couriant, Mr. C. J. Ingersoll's Edwy andElvira, and the Virgin of the Sun. The Follies of a Day was acted as originally written by Beaumarchais, and for many years continued a favorite of the audience. The Spanish Barber, also produced originally as a comedy, with music, became a stock piece, until superseded by the well known splendid operas. Bernard and Wignell, the admirable Charles and Joseph Surface, began to feel that time had somewhat disqualified them, personally, for these parts, and it was determined to substitute younger representatives. Cooper and Wood were cast for the brothers, and in the face of serious comparison ventured on the task. These characters were so completely identified with Wignell and Bernard that their successors felt themselves somewhat in the state of men going to execution. Under such feelings it must be confessed the performances were very far from satisfactory, although graciously received by the public. Curiosity, however, filled the house for a couple of nights, and the young actors betook themselves to the careful study of the characters. Time gradually wore away earlier impressions, andrendered their efforts more satisfactory to the public.

I must here relate a delicate instance of generosity.

The continued success of Speed the Plough, had rendered it a desirable attraction for benefits. Among others Miss Westray selected it for her night; the boxbook presented a flattering prospect, but on the play day a snoW storm occurred, of such violence as to render the streets nearly impassable, and the theatre a dreary waste. It was mentioned casually that Miss W estray had sustained a loss of ninety dollars, the receipts falling thus much below the expenses, at that time four hundred dollars per night. A day or two after, Miss Westray received a kind anonymous note, regretting the circumstances which had blighted her prospects, civilly noticing her talent and worth, and enclosing the sum of one hundred dollars from " a few unknown friends." Some of these unknown friends however were shrewdly guessed at. Little disposed as Cooper and I were to consider our late efforts anything better than tolerated, we were soon satisfied of opinions ill calculated to flatter a future hope. While enjoying supper in a box at Hardy's Hotel, our attention was arrested by the loud conversation of persons in the adjoining box, only separated, as in coffee house fashion, by a thin partition. The talk was at first confined to the usual topics of weather and news, but gradually fell upon the theatre. It appeared that both had been present at this unfortunate night of the " School for Scandal," and both united in opinion as to the failure of a part of the play. One observed, that " although Cooper passed for an able tragedian, it was an insult to the audience when he was thrust before them in the first high comedy part of the whole drama, and requiring the most varied requi sites; instead of these the audience was treated " with an unwieldy awkward person in a scarlet coat, laboring heavily to appear light, and struggling incessantly to seem at ease, giving the dialogue with verbal propriety, but as to character-O Lord! 0 Lord ! He some times seemed ashamed of the imposition he was prac tising. The excellence of his Richard on the previous night probably saved him from the severity of his audi tors." To this, and much more, in the same spirit, his friend eagerly assented, charitably adding, " it was truly a melancholy failure, but was saved from general execration by the superior badness of the wretched young person, whom the manager thought proper to substitute in his most perfect character. that if he designed the professional ruin of the actor," it was observed, "he could not have hit upon a surer course." The remarks continued in the same strain for some time, when at length, to our great relief, our censors took their departure, leaving us, like poor Calista, to " think of what was past and sigh alone." After some pause Cooper turned, and with a serious air remarked, " Wood, you have here had a slight taste of what you must prepare to endure in the future struggles of our strange profession. I think no want of modesty can be charged, if we venture to believe the general severity we heard somewhat uncharitable. W e must endeavor to win a better estimation, and I feel that we can." Wignell was greatly amused at a description of this scene, and kindly assured us that he was in possession of certain opinions, which, if not flattering, were at least or sufficient value to convince us that the public were not so hard to please as our late critics. He maintained that the whole play had been so favor ably received as to warrant an immediate repetition. He argued with great force against the folly of actors suffering themselves to be over-influenced by individual judgments, however well meant. He instanced Gar rick's theory, that every sensible actor should receive with deference the suggestions offered by friends and foes, but avoid the error of the Old Man, Boy and Ass. You cannot please every one, he said: the public, and the public alone is your master. By their verdict you must stand or fall. Above all, consider individual strictures or praises as only expressive of one opinion.
He ridiculed the folly of some thin-skinned actors, who wasted the precious time due to their studies in idle search of criticisms and eulogy, often written with no other reason than to flatter some weak-rninded person, or perhaps still more frequently of strictures to gratify a personal dislike. He advised young actors to main tain an obstinate ignorance of anonymous notices, whether friendly or otherwise. This safe advice was not lost on either Cooper or myself. We both, I believe, felt its value, and we both remained for years wholly ignorant of the opinions expressed by many worthy but over-weening writers, who idly conceived their judgments of sufficient value to influence and guide that of the public. My slight remarks must not be understood to imply that these occasional essays were not frequently the productions of liberal and educated men, and generally marked by a decided courtesy of manner. It has been an entertaining employment of later days to turn back to the public journals of earlier dates, and compare the different views of writers who little dreamed that their lucubrations would now be first known to those for whom they were espe -cially furnished. I shall recur again to this subject.

Up to this time Cooper had laid himself open to much censure, for an imperfect and careless rendering of the author's text. Some instances were ridiculous enough. On one occasion he was cast Mr. Ford, (Merry Wives of Windsor,) a remarkably difficult and unprofitable part. In the second act, scene with Falstaff, he knew himself so wholly unprepared, that he resorted to the artifice of slyly placing his written part on the table at which they were seated, and actually read his whole portion of the dialogue. This proceeding was not unobserved by a portion of the audience nearest the stage, but passed without notice. The next day , however, it was stated to him, that in some slight notice good humoredly suggested to Mr. XXX
of the play the writer C. whether, on any future reading of his part, it might not be proper to announce his intention in the bills, as the novelty of the circumstance could not fail to add to the night's attraction. A few night after, he announced , " Othello" (first time,) and " Children in the W ood," for his benefit, Othello and W alter by Mr. Cooper. In the full face of Fennell's well deserved popularity in the Moor, Cooper exhibited himself so miserably im perfect as to make his performance wholly ineffective, and not unfrequently ridiculous. So bewildered and confused did he become that in the last scene, where he should have exclaimed" I will not scar that whiter skin than snow, and smooth as monumental alabaster." He substituted, " I will not scar that beauteous form, as white as snow and hard as monumental alabaster. ' ,

This was rather too much for the audience, who teStified their dissent from his new reading by a general titter.
More ingenuity than Cooper showed at the table was practised by a little lady singer, long attached to our theatre. Either from bad memory or carelessness, or both, she never, by any chance, learned the words of her songs; but it was a secret she carefully concealed from the audience by writing on the palm of her kid glove the first words or more of each line. This was her invariable practice. This glove manoeuvre, how ever, was not always available, and her ignorance of the text frequently led her into the most ludicrous blunders. In Laura, (in the " Agreeable Surprise,") . , " Eugene's virtues have made me instead of saying, a proselyte, , , she actually substituted, unconsciously, " Eugene's virtues have made me a prostitute." A hundred similar absurdities might be related of this lady, whose husband, an inferior person, fully equalled his dame in these new readings.
Mr. Cooper's performance of Alexander , on the eve ning following Othello, completely obliterated the re '. collection of his careless performance of that part, which was probably his last careless performance at all. It is but just to state, that with many splendid mental and personal requisites for the stage, Mr. Cooper still labored under the disadvantage of a bad theatrical me mory. With great labor he acquired words slowly, and failed to retain them-with him learning the mere words of a part was dull drudgery. In this particular he resembled a large number of distinguished performers of both sexes. Indeed, I scarcely recollect half a dozen of our most distinguished actors, stars, or regulars, who
did not labor under this disadvantage. Moreton, W arren, Blissett, Francis, Bernard, and Mrs. Merry, were striking instances.
During the summer of 1801, while the company were acting a short season at the old American theatre of Southwark, we had a person who certainly deserved to be called an extraordinary performer. He was a man named Robertson, who had arrived here, and on whose account a few nights were added to the perform ances, in order that he might exhibit his really aston ishing powers. He was announced as follows :-

ON FRIDAY EVENING, SEPTEMBER 12TH, 1801,
.
Will be presented for the first time, a new comedy by O'Keefe, called THE LONDON HERMIT.
After which Mr. Robertson will introduce his most admired IMITATION OF BIRDS.

The ENGLISH ROBIN, THRUSH, SKY-LARK, and NIGIITINGALE ; also whistle a grand overture, accompanied by the band.
Mr. Robertson will display his manly feats of GROUND AND LOFTY TUMBLING.
He will throw a back somerset from three tables and a chair and ten somersets forward without stopping.
He will this evening introduce to the public, for the first

time, A CHILD OF PROMISE,

who will perform nmany laughable tricks and feats, truly astonishing for one of his years. This part will conclude with the laughable scene of ROLY BOLY between Messrs. Robertson and McDonald. Mr. Lynch will, by desire, sing the conmic song of " Thc Old Woman of Eighty." For the last tinme in this city Mr. Ro bertson will perfornm the wonderful leaps over the heads of twventy soldiers, with guns and fixed bayonets. Mr Robert son will leap through a balloon of fire, fourteen feet high from

the stage. A song by Mr. McDonald-a song by Miss Arnold.
Mr. Robertson will then perform the phenomenon called THE ANTIPODEAN WHIRLIGIG.

In which he will whirl round on his head at the rate of 250 times in a minute, without the assistance of his hands-and fireworks attached to different parts of his body. To which will be added Mr. Robertson's comic pantomime (got up and performed at N ew Y ork with universal applause, on last Fourth of July ,) called HARLEQUIN RECRUIT.

On the next night the bill set forth the following, in addition to the former feats. " As a stranger in Phil adelphia, he feels himself under the necessity of appealing to a generous public for support, chiefly on the score of ability-his power to please and astonish.
His principal dependence, and prior exertions, and his pledge for the evening's entertainments, the profits accruing from which will be his only emolument from his first appearance." The most pleasing part of this performance was his astonishing imitation of birds, an effort since frequently attempted, but without an approach to the excellence of Robertson. This unique performer soon after died at the South, from the dislocation of his neck, in the course of his exhibitions.
A scenic curiosity still remained from the private theatricals of the English officers, who had occupied this building during the war. It was a drop curtain, painted by Major Andre, and carefully preserved until the conflagration of the theatre. This scene was probably considered a creditable amateur effort, as it bore the name of the artist.

The season closed with great eclat from the brilliant success of " Alexander ," produced at a large expenditure and extraordinary care. The pageantry received great assistance from the aid of a company of U. S. soldiers stationed here, who were used to great advantage in the warlike scenes requiring numbers and discipline.
The assault of the walls by Alexander, by means of bridges formed with the shields of the soldiers, produced a grandeur of effect unattempted on the American stage.
Some particulars relative to this piece will be found in a short memoir of Cooper hereafter introduced.
The prospects of Wignell now brightened into a hope that fortune had become tired of persecuting him.
An unpleasant circumstance occurred about this time, during a performance of " The Fair Penitents." Some ladies near the stage thoughtlessly engaged in conversation, so loud in tone as completely to disconcert Mrs.
Merry, who appeared as Calista. This interruption was the more annoying, as coming from persons with whom intimate and friendly relations had long subsisted. At length she paused for some moments, and fixed her eyes steadily upon the box. This marked circumstance was readily noticed by the audience, and loud plaudits vindicated the silent reproof of such unbred conduct in a public theatre. The redeeming part of the story is, that the returning good sense of the ladies never suffered the circumstance to lessen, in the least degree, the friendly connection of both parties. A notice of a similar instance of proper spirit exhibited by Dwyer, who was acting at one of the prominent theatres abroad may here be added. A large division of a regiment was quartered at this place; the officers as usual forming no small part of the regular visitors. On

one occasion a large party of these gentlemen, occupying as was usual the stage box, either from thoughtlessness or excitement, so far forgot their habitual propriety as to indulge themselves in very audible conversation, loud laughter, and other acts of indecorum.
One in particular turned his back to the stage, misconducting himself in a manner equally disrespectful to the public and the actors. Dwyer, who had greatly suffered from these interruptions, which continued unchecked by the audience, finding it impossible to proceed in his part, advanced to the box, and with great seeming deference to the party, begged their permission to address the audience, and obtain leave to suspend the performance until the amusements of the box should be concluded. This odd proposal was received with a shout of applause, continuing until Dwyer had bowed himself off the stage, in the most respectful manner; public attention then turned towards the box with an unmistakable expression of its opinion of the case. The young officer who had particularly distinguished himself expressed the utmost indignation, indulging publicly in some severe remarks about Dwyer, on whom he bestowed the title of an impudent stroller.
It was not long before a knowledge of this further outrage reached Dwyer. After short reflection he determined on his course, and addressed a note to the officer, alluding to the treatment he had received the previous night; and proceeded to urge the still greater aggravation of the first offence. He modestly confessed to the charge of being " a strolling player," but stoutly denied having forfeited the character of a man of honor.
In this capacity he addressed the note, and requested immediate redress, by apology or otherwise. This serious mission was placed in the hands of a gentleman of high character in the place, who readily undertook the embassy. The officer received the note with cold civility, remarking, with a sneer, that their difference of position forbade any serious reply, and requesting that he might hear no more on the subject. This reception was ill suited to the high character and feelings of the bearer , who coolly observed, that it was not the custom of gentlemen to accept a verbal answer to a written communication of such importance. Had it been unworthy of notice, he was not likely to become intrusted (sic) with its delivery.
He had undertaken his charge in the full knowledge of Mr. Dwyer's respectability and ill treatment. As that gentleman's just claims had been refused, on unsatisfactory grounds, he felt himself forced into the necessity of exchanging places with Mr. Dwyer, and becoming principal instead of second. This was somewhat of a poser to the officer, who, nevertheless, made a ready acceptance of the challenge, and the necessary preparations were commenced for a meeting. Some rumors of what was passing reached the ears of the Colonel, a brave veteran of the old school, and nervously sensitive on the subject of military decorum. This he conceived to have been wantonly violated, and gave orders for the officer's immediate arrest. An inquiry of some sort was instituted, and resulted in a severe public reprimand. A graceful atonement was afterwards made by a full attendance of the officers (including the delinquent) on Dwyer's benefit night.