THE present number possesses our readers of a portrait of Mr. Simmonds in private life.

We have said 66 some particulars of Mr. Simmonds," because short as his coat must naturally be, the cloth afforded us will not, with all our cutting and contriving, make him a complete suit. Of the materials, however, he shall have the full benefit, though, from their scantiness, he cannot expect, nor is it our suspicion that he much wishes, to have any trimming.

Mr. Simmonds, like many other histrionic geniuses in swaddling cloaths, was, we may say, a Roscius-he had no sooner left off suckling, than he began spouting-it is believed, indeed, that he sometimes did both together! The father of Mr. Bannister, who had marked his predilection for the stage, waited patiently until he could walk all alone, then taking him from his parents, resident in London, procured him an engagement at the theatrethe Little Theatre, to play the parts of children. His debut was in the Duke of York, in Richard the Third, for the benefit of a Mr. Gardiner. The consequence of this performance speaks its merit, for Grildrig was immediately transported to Brobdignag, i. e. engaged by the winter Managers, to play such parts as the Boy, in The Contrivances; the Page, in The Orphan, &c. at Covent Gar den Theatre.

Skipping over a portion of time, we now see him breeched, and rising at Covent Garden Theatre to that degree of standing, which he at present so successfully maintains. The character that first brought him into particular notice, and made him worthy of serious criticism, was Simple, Master Slender's servant, in The Merry Wives of Windsor. His scope is narrow, but within his confined pale, he is unequalled. His Beau Mordecai, in Love d-la-mode; his Master Matthew, in Every Man in his Humour ; Fainwould, in Raising the Wind; and Jonathan Oldskirt, in Who Wants a Guinea, are at this moment exclusively his own. Some few other characters might be added, but as he has no excellence

out of this line, every one may furnish from memory the small number of parts peculiar to the exercise of his best talents. The Coxcomb is his character, but it is not the coxcomb that braves the air, but the coxcomb of a band-box; finical, not dashing; pert, not witty; angular, not round.

His figure is diminutive, but well proportioned. A former Biographer has said that "the lowness of his stature has not prevented him from being accepted as a votary in the Temple of Hymen."-In other words, he is married, although, like Mr. Shandy, he is " very short indeed."

ENDYMION THE EXILE.

LETTER IX.

If thou art not yet provided with a wife, my good Ambrose,commission me to purchase that article for thee in London. The sale of wives here is as common, as the sale of brown sugar, and far more productive. The poor part from their help-mates by means of a rope, in Smithfild-market: the rich by the verdict of a Jury at Guildhall. Sallust's Roman conspirator was not more alieni appetens, sui profusus, than are the married men of this metropolis, in the avidity with which they appropriate other men's wives, and dispose of their own. In these taxed and turbulent times, if a man be possessed of too little money, and too much wife, he immediately looks about him for an opportunity of adding to the former, by getting rid of the latter. Fraught with this notable scheme, cards of invitation are borne on the wings of the four winds, the knocker of his house is as constantly in motion as the tongue of his wife, and amidst the promiscuous mob, that throngs his three drawing-rooms and stair-case, it is very hard, indeed, if he cannot select some booby son of Croesus, who may now and then escort his lady to her Opera Box, whilst he, good easy man, is more profitably employed with the dice-box. The gallant, in yielding to the laws of Nature, outrages those of Great Britain: a body of evidence is forthwith marshalled—an eloquent barrister talks loudly of the poor husband's domestic happinesscharges the defendant with robbing him of what he never possessed, the affections of his spouse, and five, or perhaps ten thousand pounds damages, is the honourable reward given to the husband for the exposure of his wife.

I am, I own, a little surprised, that in this speculative town, where country seats, and seats in Parliament, are brought to the

hammer as an article of speculation, there is no chartered company established for the purpose of speculating in wives. The instance, I have just cited, proves, that the old objection to marriage, the expence of it, is completely obviated. Many a man who, when a batchelor, dined upon red herrings, is, by possessing a handsome wife, gifted with venison and claret for the rest of his life. There is a great waste of lungs in the English Courts of Law, in descanting on the feelings of the husband. In my mind, the man who exposes such a domestic calamity to the world, must have feelings about as acute as his intellects. We do not talk of the errors of our wives to our dearest friends; yet, we blush not to expose them in the Court of King's Bench to-day, and in all the newspapers to-morrow. And what is it we seek by calling in the aid of the law? The punishment of the criminal by indict ment? No-a pecuniary compensation by a civil action, whereby, in consideration of certain hush-money, to be apportioned by twelve men, with little wits, and large bellies, we undertake to put our horns in our pockets, and to give the gallant a receipt in full of all demands. Take the following example as a proof of what I advance.

Sir Kit Monsoon has made a fortune of half a million in the plundered East.-He is a pleasant, little, brisk, mahogany, man enough; is a little troubled with the bile, but is as free from any overflowings of honour or conscience, as any man of my acquaintance. About three years ago our Nabob was caught in a situation by no means equivocal, with a haberdasher's wife, at the Bush, at Staines. The measurer of tape was too wise to measure swords with him. A couple of well appointed Bow-street Runners, would of course have interposed, and a bond to keep the peace, in the penalty of five hundred pounds, it is well known, will silence the voice of honour both in rich and poor. "Damme if I don't trounce you for this," cried the enraged haberdasher. “If I don't bring an action to-morrow, my name isn't Tiffany !"

“An action, my dear fellow," answered Monsoon, taking snuff out of a box sparkling with diamonds, "why put yourself to that trouble? Let me see a Jury will give you about-come, I'll do the thing handsomely--here's a bank note for a thousand, and say no more about it." Mr. Tiffany wanted two thousand, so was determined to say a great deal more about it. He therefore told his story three times over, in the Declaration, Issue, and Record, and, after an attentive hearing, got a verdict of five hundred pounds. "I call that a lucky hit," said Sir Kit Monsoon

on the following morning, as he issued from his house in Port land-place; the fellow has lost five hundred, and published his own dishonour." A civil action for criminal conversation, may sound very well on the shores of the Liffy; on the banks of the Thames it is little short of a bull.

The great source of matrimonial infidelity is, I fear, engrafted in the very constitution of English manners. Here the men make marriage a pleasure, the women make it a profession. The former embrace wedlock, because they are weary of dissipation : the latter because they have hitherto been debarred from it. A man of fifty, with a fair estate and a wrinkled visage, smiling meadows, and a sour countenance, wants a wife because he is weary of living alone: a woman of his own age is of course out of the question. A beautiful daughter of poverty is forthwith im molated. She weds the treason, but hates the traitor; and if in process of time she bestows that heart upon another, which she never even pretended to bestow upon her husband, pray who is to blame? For my part, my dear Ambrose, if I were on a Jury in an action for matrimonial infidelity, the first evidence I should require would be the respective ages of the parties; the next the husband's mode of life, and the third his qualities, mental and personal. And, if I find him no otherwise qualified to be her protector, than from being old enough to be her father; that tyranny was his avocation, and drunkenness his recreation; and that in addition to all this, he was a hog in person, an ass in intellects, and a mule in temper, I would certainly find a verdict for the defendant, and consign the besotted plaintiff, saddled with the costs of suit, to run the gauntlet of public ridicule. Adieu!

GREAT BRITAIN AND SPAIN.

MR. EDITOR,

UNDER the idea that the following curious prediction may afford amusement to your readers, I beg leave to offer it for insertion in the Mirror. It is a circumstance peculiarly striking at this time, and shews how the discriminating eye of Mr. Semple had discovered, so long ago as the latter end of the year 1806, or beginning of 1807, the universal hatred which prevailed among the Spaniards towards the French, and the kindling sparks of that flame, which has burst forth with such glorious energy and pertriotic enthusiasm.

In a work, entituled, "Observations on a Journey through Spain and Italy, to Naples, &c. &c. 2 vols. 8vo. London, 1807, By Robert Semple." In the Preface to the first volume, dated 25th of March, 1807, is the following remarkable passage.

"In the present political state of Europe, and, indeed, at all times, the propriety of England's cultivating a close and friendly intercourse with Spain is so apparent, that we cannot but feel sur, prised it should have been so long neglected. On enquiry we find the causes of this to be various. Ancient wars; alliances between the two former monarchies of France and Spain; and the interests of the latter country and of England, badly understood by both. Yet, I affirm, that such are the dispositions of the Spaniards towards the English, that with a little care on the part of the govern ment, the two countries might become indissolubly united. It is here that we ought to look for a great balance to the power of France in the west. It is in this country, perhaps, unfavourable as appearances may now be, that the freedom of Europe is destined to commence. The Highlanders of Britain may still rouse to arms in a kindred language, their Celtic brethren in the mountains of Leon, Biscay, and Gallicia; and even extend their enthusiasm over the plains to the center of the country, and the mountains of Arragon and Guadarrama.”

SEEING the article intituled "KNIGHTHOOD," in your last very amusing number of the Mirror, I think the writer will not be dis pleased at my remarking, that the custom of Ecclesiastics conferring knighthood, continued much longer in England than he supposes. Our English primates, prelates, abbots, and priors, had all the right of dubbing ecclesiastics knights, and generally all the rectors, and often the vicars, prior to the Reformation, had the prefix Sir, as ranking with the lay knights. Henry VIII. does "not seem to have objected to this. Edward VI, did not love these clerking knights, as he termed them. The custom, therefore, gradually grew out of use. In the parish registers in the beginning of the reign of Elizabeth the prefix Sir is generally given to the