Hill departed to consult his lawyer, but kept shady among his friends. IIe found that he had enlisted, and could only be released legally at some trouble and expense.

Sampson called upon him at the Tremont House. After some conversation Sampson said, "Hill, what led you to come to the rendezvous to enlist ?"

"I had heard," said Hill, "that no man ever got away from you if he came into the rendezvous; so I thought I would try it."

"Well, what do you think of it now?"

"I think you do not want me to go into the service, and I am very sure I do not wish to go."

."You'll make a good soldier.

I've seen actors in

the army-first-rate men. I could name them. But, Hill, find me a man in your place. and I'll let

you off." "It is a bargain," said Hill. "You have out-Yankee'd me; but where do you get that beer from?"

"Secrets in all trades. When you are a recruiting sergeant I'll tell you some of mine."

Hill obtained a substitute or an equivalent, and was released.

He never visited Boston without calling on Sergeant Sampson, who always asked him, "if he would like a drink of beer!"

CHAPTER XVIII.

"Tell then the tale."

"This is a gift I have-simple-simple."

"Sir, he hath never fed of the dainties that are bred in a book; he hath not ent paper, as it were; he hath not drank ink."

THE AUTHOR AMD THE ACTOR-THE SNUFFERS SCENES AND CHARAC TERS-GREEN MOUNTAIN BOY-NEW ENGLAND AND ITS PECULIARI

TIES.

To portray the character of the poet, and that others may judge of the fame accorded to the departed one, selections from his works are given; letters, conversations and anecdotes, illustrate his peculiar personal qualities; and they are introduced into his biography, that those who in life had never seen the author, may by these mediums become acquainted, and appreciate the excellence which is the theme of friendly praise.

In thus recording an actor's excellence, this method of introducing the material with which he worked does not obtain the artistic touches of histrionic painting, vanished with the moment that saw the vitality of the conception, or leave but dim reflection upon the memory of those who witness the efforts of genius in the dramatic

art.

The dramatic author sketches, the actor impersonates according to the dramatist's outline the written character is always a subject for criticism as such-the acted version escapes you when the actor is no more, and ad

mits perhaps of question, as rivals undertake the delineation, who best interprets the author's meaning.

Mr. Hill excelled as an actor, in the peculiar line of character which he made his own. Everybody recog nized his portraits to be from original sitters.

In that difficult department of amusing entertainments, the Monologue, Mr. Hill proved the versatility of his talent and the comic resources always at his command. Frequently alone, for two or three hours he would excite his auditors to alternate outbursts of smiles and tears, and with his serio-comic description of scenes and character, demonstrate the power of the dramatic art over the human passions, unaided by the accompaniments of the theatre, or any adventitious help whatever.

A scene once occurred in Ohio, where Hill had prepared to perform alone in the basement of a Presbyterian Church.

Many of the future candidates for the first office in the gift of the republic were in the room, while Hill was arranging his table and screen for the business of the evening;—all were anxious to do something to help him, looking for a chance to see the show as a reward for their services.

Hill enjoyed their activity-he remembered his days of boyhood, and his ways and means to obtain an entrance to the showman's forbidden temple.

Hill asked in a loud voice if any one boy would get him a pair of snuffers.

A half a dozen quick responses, "I will," settled that question.

"What boy will get me a pitcher to-night," said Hill. "I will," "I will." Pitchers and snuffers were likely

to be present in any quantity, if these juvenile furnishers were to be believed.

Hill completed his arrangements, cleared the room and locked the door-he then proceeded about the town on business incident to his calling.

In the evening he was doing his best, and had, as was frequently the case, commenced the performance with selections of recitations from tragic plays.

He had moved the candles upon the table from the centre, and was standing in attitude, between them, about to begin the famous soliloquy from Macbeth

"Is this a dagger which I see before me?"

When two boys came slowly tween the centre row of seats. contínued his soliloquy.

down the passage beHill noticed them, but

In the mean time they both crept up to the table, and each laid down a pair of snuffers, which act Hill did not notice, but arriving at the line,

"I see thee still,

And on thy blade and dudgeon gouts of blood-"

Both boys, struck by the cunning of the scene, exclaimed at once,

"No it aint; them's the snuffers we brought you.”

Hill's tragedy was over-the audience roared with laughter at the introduction of the snuffers, and the honest mistake of the boy, who thought Hill addressed them about the imagined dagger. Comicalities concluded the performance, the boys enjoying the fun in great glee.

The effect of Hill's using the snuffers occasionally during the evening, in the way these instruments are to

be used, was irresistible, and those who remember the merry twinkle of the comedian's eye, when a little roguish accidental fun was mixed in with the staple of a legitimate entertainment, will enjoy a laugh at this recital of an incident which in itself is trivial, but susceptible, from Hill's management of it, of the highest degree of mirth.

It is often that the manner of a performance has more to do with success than the matter, under the plastic action of the comedian's art.

The expression of Mr. Hill's acting can find no representation in description. Skilful painters have failed to embody in his portraits his peculiar expression ;— mere features is all that the canvass reflects; a likeness is present, but it is not life.

Nor could he train himself so as to divest his acting from the impulsive character natural to himself.

The duplicating powers of the daguerreotype, though often put in requisition, have never furnished a counterpart to himself when under the influence of the comic

muse.

How then will a reproduction of his humorous performances offered to the reader's notice-convey any idea of his talent, or furnish evidence of his merit as a comedian.

men

Those who have listened to his description of " and things," will perhaps not regret here to recognise old acquaintances. Though deprived of their comic vitality, they are preserved in this form to contribute to their amusement. Memory must restore the performer, and enjoy the latent humor in the "talk," as they did while listening to the "talker."