You will lend a kind hand to the contraband jade,

And screen her, for once, in her illicit trade.

For true, as 'tis said, since the first Eve undid 'em,
Frail woman will long for the fruit that's forbidden;
And husbands are taught now-a-days, spite of struggles,
Politely to pardon a wife, tho' she smuggles.

If your Honours, or you, when the sex go astray,
Have sometimes inclin'd to go with them that way,
We hope to her wishes you will not say nay.
'Tis said that all judges this maxim do keep,
Not their justice to tire, but at times let it sleep.
If more by the Scriptures their Honours are mov'd,
The over-much righteous are then dissapprov❜d..
Thus true to the Gospel, and kind as they're wise,
Let their mercy restore what their justice denies.

FALSE ALARMS

IN

PLACES OF PUBLIC AMUSEMENT.

MR. EDITOR,

You have doubtless received the particulars of the lamentable accident at Stirbitch, in consequence of an alarm of fire, which some atrocious villains excited with a view to profit by the confusion of the audience. In a work entitled England illustrated, published by R. and J. Dodsley, in 1764, there is an account of a most shocking catastrophe of a similar nature, which happened within a very short distance from the same spot. The circumstances are almost too dreadful for narration, but as they exhibit a picture of distress and horror, which the execrable wretches who, from wantonness or a desire of plunder, may spread such an alarm can scarcely imagine, the insertion of it in your valuable miscellany may not be without its use. In the London theatres, the spectators have been frequently thrown into confusion by these fictitious reports, though providentially no fatal issue has, within my recollection, been the result.

Oct. 1802.

LL-VOL. XIV.

Yours, &c.

CANTAB.

"The most memorable event that appears in the histories of this county, [Cambridge] except those of a public kind, happened at Barnwell, a little village near Cambridge, on the eighth of September, 1727. It happened that some strollers had brought down a puppet-show, which was exhibited in a large thatched barn. Just as the show was about to begin, an idle fellow attempted to thrust himself in without paying, which the people of the shew prevented, and a quarrel ensued after some altercation the fellow went away, and the door being made fast, all was quiet; but this execrable villain, to revenge the supposed incivility he had received from the showman, went to a heap of hay and straw, which stood close to the barn, and secretly set it on fire. The spectators of the show, who were in the midst of their entertainment, were soon alarmed by the flames, which had communicated themselves to the barn: in the sudden terror which instantly seized the whole assembly, every one rushed to the door, but it happened, unfortunately, that the door opened inwards, and the crowd that was behind, still urging those that were before, they pressed so violently against it, that it could not be opened; and being too well secured to give way, the whole company, consisting of more than 120 persons, were kept confined in the building, till the roof fell in. This accident covered them with fire and smoke: some were suffocated in the smouldering thatch, and others were consumed alive in the flames. Six only escaped with life; the rest, among whom were several young ladies of fortune, and many little boys and girls, were reduced to one undistinguishable heap of mangled bones and flesh, the bodies being half consumed, and totally disfigured. The surviving friends of the dead, not knowing which was the relic that they sought, a large hole was dug in the Church yard, and all were promiscuously interred together. As it is not easy to conceive any circumstance of greater horror, than those which attended this catastrophe, neither is it easy to conceive more aggravated wickedness than concurred in the perpetration of it. The favour which was refused was such as the wretch had neither pretence to ask, nor reason to expect. The barn did not belong to the showman, and the spectators were admitted only upon terms, with which he refused to comply. The particulars of his punishment, or his escape, are not preserved with the story.

The accounts are many and authentic as to the atrocious act itself, and though diversified, and apparently written by different authors, agree in the truth of the story."

RETROSPECT OF NEW PERFORMERS.

MR. COLLINS (from Southampton.)

MR. COLLINS appeared in the characters of Jabal in the Jew, and Robin Roughhead in Mr. Allingham's laughable and popular Farce of Fortune's Frolic.

In both parts he was very successful, and acquitted himself to the perfect satisfaction of the audience. He is a neat figure; with features that indicate intelligence, while they assume, without any effort of grimace, a laugh-provoking character, not easily to be resisted ; and a voice which, from its peculiarity of tone, reminded us in some degree of Edwin. His conceptions seem to be original, and true to nature; his style of acting is quick and spirited; and his humour, tho' rather brisk than broad, is quite as effective as it need be.

After performing Robin Roughhead four times, he came forward in Sharp, in the Lying Valet, and fully established his character as a comedian of sterling value.

MR. STEPHEN KEMBLE (from Newcastle).

THIS gentleman is a brother of Mr. Kemble and Mrs. Siddons. He was engaged, a few years back, at the Haymarket, where he was considered a respectable performer, and in one part, Sir Christopher Curry, he was so truly excellent, that though our most popular actors have since been seen in it, the merit of the original representative has never been equalled.

Since that period his corpulency has much increased. He is now, in person, the very Falstaff of the poet, and will not disgrace the epithets applied to him-" A swoln parcel of dropsies; a huge bombard of sack; a stuffed cloak-bag of guts; a roasted Manningtree ox, with the pudding in his belly; a huge hill of flesh,” &c. This was the only character in which he could have presented himself before the audience, with any probability of success, and he bespoke their good humour by the following address, written by himself, and delivered by Mr. Bannister, junr.

A Falstaff here to-night, by nature made,
Lends to your favourite bard his pond'rous aid.
No man in buckram he! no stuffing gear,

No featherbed, nor e'en a pillow bier!
But all good honest flesh and blood, and bone,
And weighing, more or less, some thirty stone:
Upon the Northern Coast by chance we caught him,
And hither, in a broad wheel'd waggon, brought hin,

For in a chaise the varlet ne'er could enter,
And no mail-coach on such a fare would venture.
Blest with unweildiness, at least, his size
Will favour find in ev'ry critic's eyes.

And should his humour, and his mimic art,
Bear due proportion to his outward part,
As once 'twas said of Macklin, in the Jew,
This is the very Falstaff Shakspeare drew.
To you with diffidence he bids me say,

Should you approve, you may command his stay,

To lie and swagger here another day.

If not, to better men he'll leave his sack,

And go, as ballast, in a collier back.

Mr. Kemble, in common with the distinguished family to which he belongs, possesses a correct and discriminating mind. The idea he has formed of this difficult character, is such as reflects credit on his understanding, and, in many instances, he carried the intention of the author into the fullest effect.

In the satirical passages he was exceedingly happy, and his vainglorious boast in the last act "there's Percy for you," was as admirable in the delivery as it was new and just in the conception. The soliloquy on honour was also given with due force. The principal deficiency was that of humour, a quality which Mr. Kemble does not ap pear to possess in any extraordinary degree; at least his expression of it is dry, and rather forced, and wants that natural richness which is so necessary to give the requisite effect to several of the scenes in which Falstaff is engaged. Mr. Kemble sometimes seemed to be merely reciting the text, in the habit of Falstaff, instead of entering into the true jovial spirit of the character. His action was likewise too nimble, and his manner and appearance altogether too youthful for one who is called by the prince "reverend vice, grey iniquity, father ruffian, vanity in years, white-bearded Satan," &c.

But, upon the whole, the performance was truly respectable, and while it has proved a source of reputation and profit to the actor, Mr. Sheridan, who invited him to London, has the most solid reasons for congratulating himself on the event of the engagement.

MR. HARDINGE (from Philadelphia.) :

MADE his debut in Major O' Flaherty. His brogue is not remarkably good, but he discovered a just knowledge of the author, and a tolerable acquaintance with the stage. His figure is tall and manly, and he possesses a strong and articulate voice. His reception was very flattering.

MISS MARRIOT.

THIS lady has performed the characters of Clarinda, in the Suspicious Husband; Mrs. Sullen, in the Beaux Stratagem; and Jane Shore. In each of these parts she displayed a considerable portion of merit. In comedy she possesses taste, accuracy, and intelligence, with an agreeable and lady-like deportment. Perhaps her manner is somewhat too grave and prepared in the livelier scenes of Clarinda and Mrs. Sullen, and wants that flippant spirit, and gaieté du cœur, which should enliven and animate the comic scene.

Her Jane Shore exhibited strong marks of judgment and feeling, and impressed the audience with a very favourable opinion of her talents in tragedy. Were her powers a little stronger, and her style of acting more empassioned, we should entertain the most sanguine hopes of her success in this department of the drama.

Miss Marriot, in person, is about the middle size, and inclinable to the em-bon-point. There is a lisp in her voice, which rather impedes her articulation, but the tones of it are pleasant, and capable of variety. Good sense is certainly distinguishable, in a particular degree, in all her performances.

MISS REEVE.

THIS young lady is daughter to the ingenious composer. She made her first appearance on any stage in Ophelia, a part of which the characteristics are innocence and gentleness, and consequently I well suited to the timidity of a young female, trembling with apprehension at the formidable appearance of a London audience. Miss Reeve speaks with more propriety than many of our vocal performers who have had the advantage of continued practice and long experience; but it is as a singer that her talents are at present called into action, and in that capacity she promises to become an acquisition of the very first rate. The airs of Ophelia were re-set and varied by Mr. Reeve, in order to shew the power and compass of his daughter's voice. We do not commend the measure, and we believe the audience were sorry to lose the "snatches of old tunes," which have so often afforded them delight, but the occasion will excuse, in some degree, this incautious deviation from propriety. Miss Reeve sings with vast taste and precision; her voice is full, clear and flexible, with great extent of tone, and force of expression. She excels, we think, more in bravura, and passages of difficult execution, than in strains of pathos and easy melody. In addition to the instructions she must have received from parental skill and assiduity, she has received assistance from the exquisite taste of Rauzzini.

Miss Reeve, we understand, is an accomplished young lady.— Her figure is genteel, and her deportment free from embarrassment.