ing from it; he had too much sense and good feeling to

"Mud the fountain that gave drink to him,"

And cast a slur upon the profession from which he derived his bread. On the contrary, Mr. Knight was somewhat proud of being a popular actor; never having found his character deteriorated as an honourable man by having read Shakspeare attentively, and represented the morals of life to the ear as well as to the eye of the public.

Every body (theatrical) knows that Mr. Knight performed at Drury Lane Theatre, from which, like other actors of eminence, he made occasional excursions to provincial theatres. He had, as we have said, no objection to all the world knowing him to be an actor, but, in order to avoid an ostentatious display of the fact out of time and place, yet finding it expedient to secure his property from any accidental exchange with any other traveller of similar name upon the road, he caused to be engraved upon a brass plate, affixed to each of his trunks, his name, Mr. Edward Knight, written in full, followed by the Roman capitals-"T. R. D. L."-the initials of the theatre to which he belonged in London.

He had left town in a night-coach, and at the close of his journey the next day, he was naturally eager to see his luggage safely delivered to him.

The guard of the coach, who had travelled all the

way, was now very assiduous in handing from the roof of the vehicle the several trunks belonging to Mr. Knight, and, as he did so, inspected, with pointed attention, the inscription on the brass plates, and having deposited the property at the feet of its owner, the man, hat in hand, awaited his fee with more than customary deference and respect, while Mr. Knight deliberately took from his purse what he deemed a sufficient remuneration for his services, and placed it in the hand of the expectant guard, who bowed his thanks; but the next moment, looking at the amount of the gratuity which laid exposed in his open palm, and then at Mr. Knight, he turned from him as he pocketed the moneyevidently less than expected-with an insolent scowl and a significant glance at the brass plates (which had, no doubt, conveyed to him an idea of some honorary title of distinction), he walked away loudly uttering, in a contemptuous tone, and with a binding oath, the galling sneer of

"You a T. R. D. L.!!!

T. R. D. L. as I am!"

You're as much a

DODD.

MR. DODD, the High, Red-heeled-stage-dandy of the old school of comedy, was (like the generality of the actors of his day) a very pompous man, and cherished no mean estimate of the dignity of human nature, and especially of his professional occupation. Indeed, he obviously piqued himself upon his talents and quality as an actor, and considered his reputation in those positions entitled to as much respect as his private virtues. In short-he valued the means by which he existed almost as highly as he did existence itself.

Mr. Dodd's general demeanour, and dignity of deportment off, as well as on, the stage, together with his rotund person was ably supported upon two short though well-formed legs, always elegantly covered with silk stockings, and his feet with Spanish leather shoes, secured by costly buckles. His hair bien poudré, the queue of which was folded curiously into a sort of knocker, which fell below the collar of, oft-times, a scarlet coat. The little man, in short, was a decided fop of his day, both off and on the stage.*

Some (now forgotten) casualty had placed a man under Mr. Dodd's notice, who was employed by the servants to sweep the chimneys. He was a pains

* Mr. Dodd generally performed the Lord Foppington's of the drama.

taking workman, and almost as proud of his shovel and brush as Mr. Dodd of the buskin and sock; in fact, he took a praiseworthy delight in his calling.

It fell upon a day that one of this chimney-sweeper's children—a boy of about eight or ten years of age, who, it afterwards appeared, had from his earliest hour manifested a reluctance to "climb betimes," and had been heretofore thrust, against his will, into his father's dark transactions. This poor lad, on the day in question, exhibited a horror of ascending a particular flue-which was found on trial, too narrow for his growing size, and the distress of his position was communicated to the master of the house, who humanely interfered to extricate the poor creature from his perilous situation, and afterwards questioning the father of the sufferer, he was informed that of all his children, this one, only, was found impracticable in his family occupation and refused to get his living (he called it his livelihood" (!) -as his brothers did and the man, having no other means as he said of "perviding" for the refractory scion of his house, professed himself at a loss what to do with this "unnattral piece of ooman natur"-as he scrupled not to call him.

Mr. Dodd feeling for both parties, proposed to take the tasteless urchin into his kitchen to assist the servants in knife-cleaning, errand-running, &c. until something better could be done for him-the offer was gladly accepted, not only by the lad, but by his father-who expressed a hope, that though "Bob was unsooted to his employ," that he would

be suited to that of Mr. Dodd.

Poor "Bob"

having completely washed his hands of chimneysweeping, acquitted himself so well in his new service, that after a year or so his kind patron exalted him to the dignity of his theatre-attendant in ordinary-and the diminutive "Bob" very speedily grew into a full-length Robert-a very intelligent stripling, and became under able instruction, a very efficient stage-dresser, and, moreover, a general favourite.

One Sunday, when Mr. Dodd returned home from church, he found Robert's father-whom he did not at first recognize-his identity being very much obscured by clean linen, and a fair complexion; appearing, in effect, clean, an altered man! The worthy sweep, after much hesitation, informed Mr. Dodd, that he was under the painful necessity of taking Bob back again to Paradise Row (the romantic locale of his own residence); at the same time assuring "his honour" that he did so with much regret, as Mr. Dodd had been so great a friend to his son-but, that he felt it no less than his "dooty," and upon that he acted.

Mr. Dodd surprised, and somewhat displeased at such an unlooked for intimation-demanded rather severely the cause of the father's so sudden and extraordinary desire to remove his son from a situation so clearly advantageous.

The master-sweep shook his head, and looked embarrassed. He had, he said, higher views for his son, and he hoped that, "as Bob had now arrived at