"Oh, not much," said his friend; "you'll hardly believe it but a real circumstance has occurredwhat I call a genuine piece of goods. Oh, dear! Oh, lawk! oh, dear! Why, here, here's Dickey Suett and his son, The., in pawn in a tart-shop for a Shilling!"

SUETT'S FUNERAL.

IT too often happens that, in the midst of the most heart-touching ceremonies, when individual feeling is deep and serious, something of the ludicrous will force its way through the general propriety of the scene, to the perception of some person more open to such impressions than others, for which reason it is hazardous to enlist accessories to any solemnity, who cannot be supposed to have at heart the absorbing interest which belongs naturally to the principals: thus funerals, when many are present, are not always attended with that unbroken propriety which the occasion demands, and the feelings of the bereft require.

In the July of 1805, Mr. Suett died. He was a person, when living, much liked by his theatrical brethren, who felt, perhaps, that they could have better spared a better man. By this, it must not be inferred that Mr. Suett was a bad man; but it would be affectation to suppose that any one who

ever heard of that delightful droll can be ignorant that he possessed one failing-such a one as robs worth of much grace in the eyes of the temperate.

It being arranged by some of the principal performers of Drury Lane Theatre to pay the departed comedian that tribute of respect which, alas! but gratifies the survivors, it happened that one of the mourning-coaches provided on the sad occasion was occupied by Messrs. Mathews and Caulfield, Suett's doubles, to which of whose imitations of the deceased it would have been difficult to give a preference, so perfect were both. This pair of mocking-birds were perched on opposite seats; they had been, during Mr. Suett's life, in the habit of talking to each other invariably in his tones and manner,—using his peculiar phrases, and even looking like him, their tall slim figures agreeing perfectly with his. When ever these "twin Dickies," as they were called when together, met in presence of the great original, there were three Suetts in the field.

Such association naturally arising in a party not affected by the occasion beyond a common regret, might be expected to furnish matter deep and dangerous to general gravity; but, as it proved, the past held no power over the present. Mr. Wroughton, it is true, looked severely serious occasionally at my Husband, and Robert Palmer scowled at Caulfield. Whether these checks from the members of the old school had any weight that kept down the buoyancy of their younger brethren may not be

affirmed; suffice it, that neither word nor look for one moment disturbed the seriousness all exhibited during the melancholy drive.

Mr. Suett had been a St. Paul's boy; and it had therefore been arranged that his mortal remains should be deposited in the churchyard of the cathedral, to which the hearse was now followed by his brother actors. All had proceeded with the strictest decorum and attention to the last solemn, heartchilling ceremony, and the mourners were turning away from the spot where "dust to dust" had been consigned; but as they did so, all were startled by sounds "unmusical to Volscian ears, and doubly harsh to," the delicate and susceptible organs of performers, and which at once broke up the awful stillness of the scene. The noise was as of serpents

accompanied by a simultaneous clapping of hands; both sounds were peculiarly calculated to strike the sensitive tympanums of actors, and all stood confounded; the clergyman turned round with a severe look, as if to reprove the rude perpetrator of such an outrage; and the performers eagerly looked for the source of this (as it seemed) mixed professional notice of poor Suett's final exit from the stage of life. The cause of this curious effect was at once apparent. On an adjacent tomb, a boy, who had probably placed himself on that elevation for the more conveniently witnessing the ceremony just concluded, was perceived, still clapping and hissing vehemently, as it was afterwards found, with the view of instigating

two dogs to fight, that it was evident were more than half disposed to gratify him by taking the hint.

The unconscious culprit stood confessed; and, the matter thus accounted for, the clergyman resumed his composure, and with eyes cast down moved away; while the actors, glancing furtively from one to another with an incipient smile quivering on their lips, immediately raised their white handkerchiefs to their faces, and in "decent sorrow" reentered their coaches, where they continued profoundly silent till they once more alighted; when something that might have been mistaken for the voice of the departed, was heard in dialogue, and the ghost of buried Denmark finally exclaimed, "Oh la! oh dear! Ho-ho! Ha-ha! Why, my dragons! that boy was a genuine piece of Goods! what I call a real Circumstance Oh dear! oh la !!! Robert Palmer took a larger pinch of snuff than usual, and walked away. Mr. Wroughton faintly smiled, and holding a finger up with an expressive meaning to the twain Dickies, cast his eyes upon the ground, and gravely muttered, as he took his leave,

"Rest, rest, perturbed spirit!"

MR. EDWARD KNIGHT ("Little Knight") that delightful and quaint actor-the "Jerry Blossom and other rustics of the drama-was an enthusiast in whatever he gave his mind to.

He had commenced life as a miniature painter, but very soon after, transferred the delicate touches of his pencil to the broader effects of stage canvass, and thence to closer copyings from life upon the boards of theatres, which he continued to adorn with the truest touches from nature, until his rather premature death closed his earthly scene.

Besides being an excellent artist and actor, he was also a dramatic author of several popular pieces.

At the period to which this account relates, about 1814, Mr. Knight was about to produce his farce of "A Chip of the Old Block" which was coming out at the Haymarket, under the auspices of his friend Mr. Mathews, for whom he had written the principal character.

Mr. Knight was, as we have said, an enthusiastic and a great admirer of my Husband; himself person, a man of talent, and naturally generous and ardent, he worshipped unfeignedly that of others. Mr.

Father to the admirable painter of his name.