once noble gothic edifice! It now belongs to no order or age. I remember it, when proudly it towered a monument of the taste of Englishmen, and the liberality of the church and government of England. A pure specimen of the rich and aweinspiring gothic without, and decorated within by the sculptures and paintings of the most eminent artists of Britain. What is it now? A Yankee specimen of republican economy! They had better have left it a noble ruin as they made it when they fled from their gracious monarch's armies, sent in mercy to teach them their true interests. I remember, sirr

"You! Mr. Cooke!"

"Yes, sirr! I, George Frederick Cooke! I remember Trinity church in its pride, and I remember it in its ruins, even then infinitely more beautiful than in its present state. During the rebellion, sirr, when we occupied this city by right of conquest, the public mall, the favourite walk, was in front of the ruins of that proud building which even then from its dilapidated turrets spoke in praise of monarchy and prelacy---of church and state---and frowned on democracy and rebellion. Then, sirr, every evening in summer, we had our military bands of regimental musicians playing loyal airs in the church yard, while we promenaded with the wives and daughters of the refugees and loyalists, and confirmed them in the love of old England. In the morning, sirr, it was the parade ground, from which the guards were detailed, and marched with drum, fife, trumpet, bugle, and bagpipe, to their stations. The main guard was down there, in Wall-street, where the Custom House now stands. There stood the old City Hall and Court House, projecting into the street. Sirr, you stare at my knowledge of this place, and its history-come on, sirr !" By this time some other auditors were collecting, and he moved on, but soon resumed his rhodomontade. "The night after we crossed from Brooklyn, all this part of the city, including old Trinity, was one sheet of flame--all was burnt by the rebel incendiaries. on fire from Trinity downwards, and then across to the east, leaving Kennedy's and a few houses towards Fort George, and the Battery. Here stood an old Sectarian meeting house which the flames had spared, and we made a military store house of it. The Yankee shopkeepers have built what they think an elegant church on the site and called it "Grace," there is grace in making it episcopal. Heaven grant them grace to improve their taste in architecture! It looks more like a storehouse still than a temple."

All

Thus the excited old man poured forth his recollections from

reading or from associating with officers who had been in America at the time he spoke of, mingled with his imaginings, as the objects they passed suggested images of things partly remembered and partly created. Thus with rapid strides and occasional pauses, he proceeded on his way, every word and every action marking that state of increasing excitement, which added an unnatural power to his colloquial faculties. His young companion, glad to escape from his own thoughts, gave way to the interest created by the remarks of his leader, and hung, wondering, upon his copious, singular, and wild eloquence. They arrived at the Bowling-green. "There, sirr," continued Cooke. "There stood the equestrian statue of his sacred Majesty George the Third, my royal master !— There, sirr, within that circular enclosure. It was of lead, gilt over." Then with a sudden change of voice and countenance, looking over his shoulder as if speaking to some one behind him, in an under tone he added, “Gilded lead, said by the vile Jacobites, to be an apt emblem of the house of Hanover." Again resuming his former tone and manner, he proceeded, "Before we landed, the rebels had melted the Lord's anointed, and cast the heavy material into bullets-musket balls to murder his loyal subjects-thus adding sacrilege to parricide, rebellion, murder and treason. Yes, sirr, his leaden majesty was dethroned before we gained the town-but I remember Pitt's statue in Wall street, the rebels left him standing because he was the leader of the opposition in parliament-and because they could not make bullets of the marble: but some of our wild boys took his head off one night-by way of hint to those who encourage rebellion. Ha! this, sirr, is Kennedy's house, the head quarters of Sir William, Sir Henry, and Sir Guy, his majesty's commanders-in-chief, now rebuilt and enlarged to receive a Yankee broker! Yes, sirr, this corner house was the British head quarters, and opposite rose majestically Fort George, surmounted with the floating banner of England, surrounded by her invincible fleets and armies, overlooking land and water-the town, the battery and the bay—but the democrats have levelled it-the hill is removed by the faithless, and the natural defence of the city prostrated by the foolish."

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Perhaps they think its defence is in its men."

"And now, sirr, they are building yon stone Frenchified things! castles! things that one of our seventy-fours would batter down in an hour."

"Provided no guns were mounted on, or fired from them." "Guns or no guns, sirr! Guns or no guns!"

They had now entered within the fence (then of wooden pales) which separated our magnificent public walk, still called the Battery, from the street which occupies part of the former site of Fort George, and is called State-street; and now the view of the spacious bay, with its islands, the rich and beautiful shores of the neighbouring state of New Jersey, the hills of Staten Island, and the meadows and groves of that part of Long Island which with the sister isle forms the outlet to the Atlantic and the inlet to all the commerce of the world, burst upon the view.

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The hero of the mimic scene, looked around him on the realities of the present, and was for a moment silent: but soon he began again, taking a new hint from the prospect which opened upon him, and seeming to inhale additional animation from the pure sea breezes which swept over the waters, pouring health upon the busy multitudes he had left behind him. My young friend" said he, "I never walk here, and look on these rivers, this bay and those shores, but I think over the days of my youth. I traverse again in triumph those heights." And he pointed to Long Island. "I marched proudly, driving before me the rebels with their Washington and their Lord Sterling (not a sterling Lord) until the night saved them from utter annihilation. It was the twenty-fifth of August when they fled before us to their lines in Brooklyn. I must give Washington credit for bringing them off that night. Yes, he made a skillful retreat, and did all that man-a Yankee man-could do with such troops. These Yankees, with all their self-conceit, are a poor race, sirr, a degenerate race in every thing."

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"I think, Mr. Cooke" said Spiffard with an affected simplicity, "that it was on the twenty-fifth of August you said, seventeen hundred and seventy-six, that Washington fled with his army of raggamuffins before the disciplined veterans of Britain ?"

"Aye, sirr! the twenty-fifth! the twenty-fifth!"

"And on the twenty-fifth-" "Spiffard was interrupted by the exulting repetition of the words, "Ay, sirr! the twentyfifth!" But the Yankee proceeded deliberately, "the twentyfifth of November, seventeen hundred and eighty-three, these same Yankees, led by this same Washington, marched into this same city not leading a rabble of raggamuffins but a few regiments of well dressed, well equipped, well disciplined Yankee soldiers; and was welcomed by the grateful inhabitants as their

benefactor and Saviour! while his Britannic majesty's fleet, men-of-war, transports and all, were seen from this same spot, wafting his crest-fallen warriors back to their native shores."

"My dear fellow," said Cooke, with one of his arch looks, 66 we will say nothing of that."

This day, ever to be commemorated not only by New-York, but by America, as the last day their soil was polluted by an enemy during the war of the revolution; this memorable twentyfifth of November, 1783, was witnessed as a scene of triumph by the writer of these memoirs; and the words put into the mouth of Spiffard, supposed to be spoken by him as the result of tradition, may be received by the reader as the testimony of an eyewitness.

After a pause Cooke added, “You spoke the latter part of that last sentence, in a tone that would almost induce me to think you an American, but that you are too short and too clever for a Yankee. It is odd, sirr, that they have never produced one good actor. How long is it since you came to this country?

"Five and twenty years."

"Then you must have come when you were six months old or less."

"Less, sir. Not an hour old. I am guilty of being born in Yankee land."

"So, so, so! and I have been be-rating the country, and the people, to a-a—”

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"A Yankee actor," said Spiffard laughing.

"A sterling actor," said the veteran in his best manner, "come you when or whence you will." The chain of romance and rhodomontade seemed broken, and with a pleasant smile the old man said, "I have been fairly caught, I must confess. But I like you none the worse for being a native of the land of pumpkins and puritans. You must let me have my fling at you, especially as you know, let who will laugh, or who will rail, you Yankees have won the game."

Thus chatting, and somewhat recovered from the effects of reading the English newspapers with the bar-keeper of the tavern, the veteran was accompanied by the young comedian to his lodgings, who with difficulty excused himself from entering to share in the rich profusion of Jemmy Bryden's board at the Tontine Coffee House.

When alone, Spiffard again fell into mournful ruminations on his rueful condition. "If the suspicions which my volatile companions have raised should prove to be founded on fact." At one moment he strove against the thought that tortured him,

and the next gave way to his fears. "These fellows are quizzing me. They are always at their hoaxing sport-sport to them!--but then how should they know that I am married to her? I boarded in the house before. It is but two weeks-and no one in the house knows it but Mrs, Epsom, not even her cousin Emma-no, no, there is a foundation for this insinuation. I remember now a thousand circumstances in confirmation. But then she has a mind so far above the ordinary class of women. Her sentiments are elevated. The whole tenor of her reading and conversation is masculine and philosophic. True, her passions are remarkably strong, and she may have followed the example of her former husband whom she loved to excess-she may have-but that she now loves me I cannot doubt, and with her good qualities and superior mind what have I to fear?"

So soliloquizing our hero strode up Wall-street to Broadway, and on to the house of Mrs. Epsom, his mother-in-law, having in a good degree tranquilized his mind, and being determined neither to do nor say any thing which might interrupt his domestic felicity; unless it should be disturbed by the public avowal of his change of state, and the annunciation in papers and bills of his wife's change of name, which had become necessary after the scene in the Park.

CHAPTER II.

Heroines on and off the stage.

"Have you the lion's part written? pray you, if it be, give it me, for I am slow of study."-Shakspeare.

"Study is still the cant term used in the theatre for getting any nonsense by rote."-Stevens.

"Bottom discovers a true genius for the stage by his solicitude for propriety of dress, and his deliberation which beard to choose among many beards, all unnatural."-Johnson..

"I will draw you a bill of properties, such as our play wants."-Shaks.

"A cue in stage cant is the last words of the preceding speech, and serves as a hint to him who is to speak next."-Stevens.

BEFORE Zeb appears again or undertakes to make known his purpose or rather his change of resolution, we will introduce