ferring the gratification of his satirical revenge, to making his fortune.

GARRICK AND THE WHITECHAPEL BUTCHER.

WHEN Garrick first came upon the stage, and one very sultry evening, in the month of May, performed the character of Lear, in the four first acts he received the customary tokens of applause; at the conclusion of the fifth, when he wept over the body of Cordelia, every eye caught the soft infection, the big round tear ran down every cheek. At this interesting moment, to the astonishment of all present, his face assumed a new character, and his whole frame appeared agitated by a new passion; it was not tragic, for he was evidently endeavouring to suppress a laugh. In a few seconds, the attendant nobles appeared to be affected in the same manner; and the beauteous Cordelia, who reclined upon a crimson couch, opening her eyes to see what occasioned the interruption, leaped from her sofa, and with the Majesty of England, and the gallant Kent, ran laughing off the stage. The audience could not account for so strange a termination of a tragedy, in any other way, than by supposing the dramatis persona to be seized by a sudden frenzy ; but their risibility had a different source.

A Whitechapel Butcher, seated in the centre of the first bench of the pit, was accompanied by his mastiff, who, being accustomed to sit on the same seat as his master at home, thought naturally enough that he might enjoy the same privilege here. The Butcher sat back, and the quadruped, finding a fair opening, got upon the bench, and fixing his fore paws on the rails of the orchestra, peered at the performers with as upright an head, and as grave an air, as the most sagacious critic of the day. Our corpulent slaughterman was made of "melting stuff," and not being accustomed to a play-house heat, found himself much oppressed by the weight of a large and well-powdered Sunday peruke, which, for the gratification of cooling his head, he pulled off, and placed on the head of the mastiff. The dog, being in so conspicuous a situation, caught the eye of Garrick and the other performers. A mastiff in a church-warden's wig was too much; it would have provoked laughter in Lear himself, at the moment he was most distressed,—no wonder that it had such an effect upon his representative.

CHILDREN ACTORS.

THE following Epitaph, the elegant and

graceful simplicity of which has seldom been surpassed, was written by Ben Jonson on Salathiel Pavy, one of the " children of Queen Elizabeth's Chapel," more usually called "the Children of Powles," who acted at the Black-friars.

And know, for whom a tear you shed
Death's self is sorry.

'Twas a child that so did thrive

In grace and feature,

As Heaven and Nature seem'd to strive
Which own'd the creature.

Years he number'd scarce thirteen,
When Fates turn'd cruel,

Yet three fill'd Zodiacs had he been
The Stage's jewel;

And did act (what now we moan)

Old men so duly,

As, sooth, the Parcæ thought him one,

He play'd so truly.

So, by error, to his fate

They all consented;

But viewing him since (alas! too late!)

They have repented;

And have sought (to give new birth)

In baths to steep him;

But being so much too good for Earth,

Heaven vows to keep him.

The "Children of Powles".. appear, at the latter end of Queen Elizabeth's reign, to have become rather formidable rivals to the more regular actors of the Fortune, Globe, &c. Several of Ben Jonson's earlier plays were performed, in the first instance, by them; and Shakspeare himself shows, in his Hamlet, considerable managerial jealousy at the success of the " eyasses." The current complaint against them was, that they gave the public but little novelty, and this is neatly touched in the following quotation from Pasquil and Katharine.”

I saw the children of Powles last night,

And, troth, they pleased me prettie, prettie well;
The Apes, in time, will do it handsomely.

Pla. I' faith,

I like the audience that frequenteth there
With much applause: a man shall not be choak't
With the (strong) stench of garlic, nor be pasted
To the barmy jacket of a beer brewer.

Bra. 'Tis a good gentle audience, and I hope
The boys will come one day into request.

Pla. Ay, an' they had good plays; but they produce
Such musty fopperies of antiquity,

And do not suit the humorous age's backs
With clothes in fashion.

ELEANOR GWYNNE.

THIS celebrated female, at her first setting out in the world, sold oranges in the play-house. Her person, though below the middle size, was well turned; she had a good natural air, and a sprightliness that promised every thing in comedy, and she in a short time became eminent in the profession. She acted the most spirited and fantastic parts, and spoke a prologue and epilogue with admirable address.

The immediate cause of her becoming the object of Charles's affection, is related as follows: -At the Duke's Theatre, under Killigrew's patent, the celebrated Nokes appeared in a hat larger than that usually assigned to Pistol, which diverted the audience so much as to help off a bad play. Dryden, in return, caused a hat to be made of the circumference of a large coach wheel, and made Mrs. Gwynne deliver an epilogue under it, with the brim stretched out to its utmost horizontal extension. No sooner did she appear in this strange dress, than the house was convulsed with laughter. Among the rest, the King gave her the fullest proof of his approbation, by going behind the scenes after the play, and taking her home in his own coach to sup with