MRS. JORDAN AND MISS POPE.

Ar one period, during their later years, those inimitable actresses Mrs. Jordan and Miss Pope, had some green room misunderstanding, and it followed, that what is called a coolness-but which in most cases may be better described as a warmth, subsisted between them,—and occasioned them to meet day after day, night after night in their professional avocations, without any other apparent notice of each other, than the business of the stage demanded.

At that time, ladies wore wigs instead of their own hair, and this unnatural fashion was adopted even by youth, which confined its own beautiful tresses, under an artificial mass of stiff formality. But it was one thing to adopt the fashion to the head-and another to adapt the head to the fashion, although this may at first appear a distinction without a difference.-N'importe.

Mrs. Jordan was in the full lustre of her prime, Miss Pope some few lustres beyond it ;-yet both wore brown hair, without a shade of difference between that of Miss Prue, and Mrs. Frail, the characters which on the present occasion, called forth the exquisite talents of these two inimitable actresses.

In the course of the evening, the fair enemies

were seated——not together, of course but on opposite seats, both, however, listening with equal enjoy ment, to a story relating by Mr. Bannister, the "Ben" of the evening-when the concluding point touching the merry vein of Miss Pope, she suddenly threw back her head, while resigning herself to the burst of laughter elicited by the humorous recital, and whether, from the jerk of her so sudden movement, or from the top-heaviness of the ornaments upon her wig-- before she, herself, could be aware of it, Miss Pope's head was left uncoveredliterally so, for not one hair was apparent; (tout à fait Pêlé!) But only the quicksighted had time to observe the accident,-for Mrs. Jordan, forgetful of all distance between her, and her ancient friend, sprung forward with the impulsive kindness of womanhood to a sister in distress,-exclaiming, in her hearty voice," My dear-r Miss Pope!" threw herself so skilfully upon the old lady's shoulders, as to exclude all view of the denuded part, while she dexterously caught up the treacherous wig, and replaced it upon the

High top, bald with dry antiquity,"

to the relief of her agitated enemy, who, in return, threw her arms gratefully and affectionately round Mrs. Jordan's neck, giving her a loving kiss, and a hearty "God bless you!"

Thus the wig and the difference, were happily adjusted at the same moment.

K

HENRY SIDDONS AND MATHEWS.

SIR WALTER SCOTT, in the course of his Diary, relates an amusing and characteristic instance of the imperturbable personal dignity of John Kemble -that last of all the Romans!-which exhibited itself during the tragedian's excursion with the Great Unknown to the Vale of Ettrick, when an unexpected impediment presented itself, in the shape of a rivulet, which recent rains had swelled into a temporary river, and which the travellers were pressingly instigated to ford, by the rapid approach of a furious bull. Mr. Kemble's deliberate haste to remove himself from the threatened danger, his slow alacrity and stately step, the constitutional measure of the Kemble locomotion,resembled, in cause and effect, a similar dilemma, in which his nephew, Mr. Henry Siddons, was involved some years ago.

Mr. Siddons and my Husband were friends, and at one period neighbours, the former living in Museum Street, Bloomsbury, and the latter opposite to the British Museum. Mr. Mathews was much attached to Harry, and out of pure regard would condemn himself to his friend's pace, which was almost painful to his natural speed (not then being a lame man), on their daily return to their respective homes, after a morning's rehearsal at Drury Lane Theatre, to which they both belonged.

One very warm day, at nearly the close of the season, these companions in arms were proceeding, side by side, leisurely up Drury Lane,-Mr. Siddons in his wonted position, namely, his left elbow resting upon his hip, his right arm stretched forward, the hand meeting that on the left with an action which might have led a stranger to believe him strenuously endeavouring to crack a refractory nut between his palms, his striking and regular features being at the same time distorted by a nervous habit, which he had acquired when not speaking, of drawing his mouth on one side, and making a clicking, metallic noise in his cheek.

The friends had just crossed over into Museum Street, when suddenly a cry was raised that a mad dog was in the rear; which intimation caused the mercurial Mathews to look back, when, seeing a poor hunted spaniel running at full speed, and rapidly approaching, he promptly made his unconscious friend aware of the peril, and urged the necessity of immediate flight, at the same time setting an example of personal activity, by running a few yards forward, and nimbly ascending the steps of an open shop. In the next moment he was in security, and anxious for his friend, whom he beheld nearly on the same spot upon which he had left him, obviously in a state of great alarm, and executing a more energetic pressure of his hands, while the action of his cheek had become visibly more emphatic, his previously serene brow was

anxiously contracted, and it was altogether apparent that the whole of his frame was in a state of excessive trepidation, and equally clear that he was under the impression that he was practising great muscular exertion to reach the goal of safety,-such was his air of serious haste. At length, however, his efforts, slow and laborious as they were, brought him to the foot of the steps; when, by a deliberate ascent, he reached the top just in time, by good luck, to avoid the foaming animal, which immediately passed, followed by the hootings and peltings of the pitiless mob, whose brutal pursuit had probably first terrified, and then exasperated, the poor creature into madness.

Mr. Siddons looked excessively pale. With his lips quivering, and his whole form in agitation, he stood in his usual attitude, but without the power to give due force to the accompanying click in his cheek. As the rabid animal ran wildly on, all present were thankful for their escape; and Mr. Siddons could not refuse an honest tribute to his own, imaginary powers of locomotion. Turning to his friend, with an air expressive of his belief that he owed his safety to his own great celerity of limb, and with self-gratulation on his prompt exertions, in tones measured as his steps, he observed, with naïveté, to his amused friend, Gad, sir! it was time to run!"