neighbouring town of Dumfries. Of my old favourites, few I understand survive, and year after year lessens the number of those devout men who regularly passed my Father's window on the Sabbath morn. Mr Farley has long since been numbered with the blessed-and Jean Robson, a very singular and devout character, has also rested from her labour of instructing the youth of the Cameronians. She taught the writer of this imperfect account to read-the Bible, and the famed Prophecies of Alexander Peden. She tore the leaf from the Bible which

said, "James, by the Grace of God, Defender of the Faith," and denounced the name of Sunday as Popish, or what was worse, Prelatical, and caused us all to call it the Sabbath. She died 83 years old. She used to flog her scholars, and exclaim,-" Thou art an evil one-a worker of iniquity"-while the tawse and tongue kept time and told sharply.

The Cameronians make few converts-few people are fond of inflicting on themselves willingly the penance of controversial prayers, and interminable sermons. There is a falling off in the amount of the Flock. My friend, the weaver, became a convert from conviction. Another of the converts joined the cause in the decline of life, not without suspicion of discontent, because his gifts had been overlooked by the minister of the parish kirk, in a recent nomination of elders. He was fond of argument, and seemed not unwilling to admit the potent auxiliaries of sword and gun on behalf of the cause. On one occasion, he grew wroth with the ready wit of a neighbouring peasant, on the great litigated point of patronage and seizing the readiest weapon of his

wrath-a hazel hoop, for he was a cooper-exclaimed, "Reviler-retire-else I'll make your head saft with this rung." On another time, he became exasperated at the irreverent termination of an epigram on a tippling blacksmith, which was attributed to Burns, who then resided within sight-at Elisland.

On the last day,
When sober man to judgment rise,
Go druken dog, lie still incog,
And dinna stir if ye be wise.

The honest Covenanter, after three brought forth his expostulation with days and three nights meditation, the mighty bard of Caledonia.

commences thus

Robert Burns ye were nae wise To gie to Rodds sic an advice.

It

It has lost all its attraction since the voice of its author is mute, for who can repeat it as he did—the pithy preliminary remarks on the great poet's morals-the short Cameronian cough-the melodious trail of the tongueand the frequent intrusion of explanatory notes, which the uninspired could not always distinguish from the poem itself, all these things are departed and passed away, and the verses sleep as quietly as the dust of the poet. Two other occasional converts scarcely deserve notice-one of them was saved from thorough conviction by the welltimed exaltation to a neighbouring prencentership, and the other has returned to his seat in the kirk, since the dark-eyed daughter of an adjacent Cameronian gave her hand, and it was a white one, to one of the chosen who was laird of an acre of peatmoss-and I have not heard of any other damsel of the covenant having caused him to relapse.

CIRCUMSTANCES have lately occurred which tempt us to say a few words more on the present brightening prospects of the Acted Drama in this country.

At the time of writing our last Article, we could merely discern the distant opening of those prospects; but at present we have little hesitation in saying, that what we then anticipated only as a bare probability, is now

near at hand. In fact large theatres for the performance of the regular drama have had their day in this country, and are on the point of being entirely exploded. We have not space, nor is it necessary, to particularise the circumstances which have brought this about; with the results alone is the public concerned: but so confident are we as to the nature of those re

sults, that, if it were not that the mé tier of a prophet has fallen a good deal into disrepute of late years, in consequence of certain lamentable failures that it has experienced in the great world of politics, we should venture to stake the value of our pretensions to this faculty in the little world of theatricals, on the following prediction; viz. that, in less than two years from this time, the whole theatrical arrangements of the English metropolis will have assumed nearly the same aspect as to number, character, &c. as those of Paris. But, in order that our prediction may not be subject to the usual charge of vagueness, we will descend to particulars. We anticipate, then, that at the time of which we speak, the King's Theatre will remain, as heretofore, appropriated to the Italian opera, perhaps without ballets, on the plan of the Salle Luvois. Drury-Lane Theatre will be contracted to a moderate size, and the little theatre in the Haymarket re-built as a second to it, for the performance of what is (vaguely enough) called the legitimate drama exclusively, viz. tragedy, comedy, and farce. These two theatres will then exactly correspond with the Theatre Francois, and the second Theatre Francois (late the Odeon). Covent Garden Theatre, if it should not be remodelled to form a third with the above two, will retain its present form, and be converted into an establishment on a similar plan to that of the Académie Royale de Musique, for the encouragement of a grand national opera and ballet. But of the fulfilment of this part of our prediction we are less confident, and less anxious than of the rest; for the English are neither a singing nor a dancing people; nor do we wish them to become so. To match the delightful Feydeau we already have Mr Arnold's pleasant little theatre in the Strand; Mr Dibdin at the Surrey has been making near approaches to the fun, frolic, burlesque, and parody of the Variétés and Vaudeville; and the little Sans Pareil Theatre in the Strand has fallen into new hands, and from the list of its performers, &c. we judge that it means to tread in the same path. The theatre in Well-close Square is also being remodelled under the direction of Mr Rae; and this, with the Cobourg Theatre on the other side the water, will form establish

ments on the footing of the Porte St Martin, and the Gaieté and Ambigu. And lastly, Astley's, with some modifications, will probably remain the English Franconi's; and it cannot do better. Supposing all these arrangements to be completed, and we have little doubt that they shortly will be so, we shall then have no more theatres than Paris has, with a metropolis more than twice as large.

But there is one other grand point in which the English theatres must be assimilated to the French, before they can hope or deserve to enjoy the attraction and prosperity of their foreign rivals, viz. the moderate prices of admission to them. Upon what pretence can the English managers demand higher admission than the French? The French theatres are in every respect as commodious as our's; the first-rate actors are in every department equal to the English; and the second and third-rate infinitely superior-their costumes and decorations are faultless; they are inferior to us in no one particular, but that of scenery; and they fall short of the English in that, only because here it has been carried to an extravagant and useless pitch of expense and refinement—a circumstance, too, which has arisen merely from a secret consciousness that such enormous theatres were fit for nothing but the exhibition of panoramic pictures. On the French stage the scenery is quite perfect enough for all the purposes of the drama. Indeed, for our own parts, we have no doubt whatever that the absence of that pictury-looking glare and freshness which distinguishes the scenery at our theatres is a certain and positive advantage. And what are the prices of admission at the French theatres? They must surely be forgotten, or not generally known here— otherwise our own extravagant ones would never be tolerated. We will state, as near as we can remember, the prices of admission to the pit of the principal theatres in Paris. About two years ago, when Catalani had the management of the Italian Opera, she raised the price of the pit to about half-a-crown-and there was a kind of O. P. row in consequence! At the Académie Royale de Musique, which is conducted on a much more splendid and expensive scale, and where the accommodations for the audience are

much superior to those of our Italian Opera, the admission is about three and sixpence. At the Francois, where Talma, Georges, Duchénois, Mars, Fleury, &c. perform, it is about two shillings. At the Variétés, and the Vaudeville, where they have Potier, Brunet, Joly, and Gavandan-four of the most exquisite comic actors in Europe, and where they usually perform three or four little pieces, breathing the very spirit of gayety, wit, and light-heartedness-the admission is about fourteen pence. But in Italy the prices of adinission are still more moderate, while every thing else is nearly on a par with England. At the Scala at Milan- the very first theatre in Europe, with the exception, perhaps, of the new one at Naples-you sit or lye at the most luxurious ease, on couches with stuffed cushions and reclining backs, and hear the first-rate Italian singers, and see the very finest ballet in the world (much finer than the boasted one of the rue Richelieu), for less than eighteen pence; and at the King's Theatre in the same city you see the best actors perform a comedy of Goldoni's, and a farce, for half that sum! What do the English managers,-or-which is more to the purpose-what do the English public, say to this? On this point, too, we confidently anticipate, that, if the spirit of the one party does not bring about a change, the policy of the other very soon will.

But these pleasant anticipations are making us forget Mr Elliston, and the furtherance that he is giving to them by the manner in which he has begun to conduct Drury-Lane Theatre. We thought what all the daily critics' cant about "public enthusiasm," and his own about the "classical drama," would come to. The combined result of them is as follows:-On the 20th of October we walked leisurely into the house at seven o'clock, and had an opportunity of choosing our seat in any part of it, to see the first representation of a new piece which had been studiously announced as the production of Mr Tobin; and it turned out to be a stupid and stupifying mixture of cant and common-place, that could not have been brought forward with any chance of success at the lowest Theatre in the metropolis. The announcement of the piece as Mr Tobins' must have been nothing less than a

paltry trick; and we care very little whose authority we are impeaching when we state our belief, that little, if any of it, was written by him. He may have left the sketch of an opera, and amused himself by writing the songs for it; but the dialogue of the Fisherman's Hut could not have come from the terse and tasty pen of the author of the Honey Moon. The very circumstances (for it was circumstances, not nature, that made Mr Tobin a poet) which enabled him to write the one, made it impossible for him to write the other.

We are spared the trouble of entering into a detailed criticism on the Fisherman's Hut, as the bills announce that it has been withdrawn "in compliance with the wishes of the public." The impudent charlatanerie of this statement can only be surpassed by that of the one which followed the first representation of the piece. Nearly the whole of the last act was inaudible, from the tumult of disapprobation by which the public expressed their "wishes" then; and, in answer to them, Mr Elliston, the next morning. announced that the piece had been completely successful, and should be repeated "every evening till further notice!" In fact, the managers of theatres now-a-days attend to no opinion, and understand no criticism, but that which is written on empty benches: That there is no gainsaying, and no tampering with; and it works wonders upon them accordingly. It is even more disgusting to us to point out these things than to observe them; but as it is evident that Mr Elliston has contrived to find favour in the eyes of those who ought to notice them, we must be content to take the odium of doing so-but we must, at the same time, claim the credit of it. The drama will never prosper while they are tolerated, because it can never deserve to prosper while they are necessary.

Covent-garden has presented us with another fairy tale, called Arthur and Emmeline; but we shall spare the reader any very particular account of it ;-not only because it is written by Dryden, and therefore well known,but because it is very dull, though it were written by twenty Drydens. The only part of this revival which is worth notice, is Miss Foote's performance, or rather appearance, in Emmeline. Her face, person, voice, and

ruption and degradation inseparable from an established system of poor laws. Such was the author's confidence in his plan, that he suggested an immediate enactment, by which the parochial assessments established in large towns, should be appropriated exclusively to the relief of the mass of pauperism already existing, leaving every new case to be provided for by voluntary contribution alone; the assessments, as the demands upon them should be reduced or extinguished by the death of the claimants, not to be discontinued, but to be applied to the erection of new parishes, and the foundation of schools-to the multiplication of the sources of moral and religious instruction now scandalously deficient in the great cities; to the diffusion, in short, throughout the most obscure recesses of society, of that benign moral influence, upon the power of which the reverend author mainly relies, for the success of his great experiment.

Dr Chalmers, without professing himself a convert to the doctrines of Malthus, upon which ignorance has endeavoured to cast so much odium, has substantially adopted his principles, and arrived in effect at his conclusions. The utter inadequacy of charitable institutions, however munificent, to support the mass of pauperism, which they either find or create; the indefinite expansion, and ultimate triumph of the evil over their purest and most assiduous exertions; the impossibility of protecting the appropriated fund from the inroads of imposture, without the instrumentality of the most prying and intolerable despotism; and the consequent temptation presented to the increase of the malady, without limit, and without hope of relief, have been fully admitted by him, and have led him to conclude, that legal establishments for the maintainance of the poor, besides their malignant metamorphosis of the spirit of charity itself into the machinery of compulsion; their tendency to harden the hearts of the donors, and extinguish the gratitude of the receivers; to mar that moral refinement which is insensibly diffused over all classes of society by the free and cordial interchange of the offices of benevolence, have in truth no power to realise even their primary object, but, after exhausting all their resources, leave the

field for the exercise of voluntary charity extended rather than abridged, and darkened by the shadow of their contiguous corruption. Mr Malthus has not in substance said more of those melancholy monuments of abortive legislation; and it will be seen immediately, that as he and the reverend author before us concur in their view of the causes, as well as in their general description of the character of the disease, so they do not essentially differ in their opinion of the only prac ticable remedy.

The remedy proposed by Malthus, and suggested, indeed, by common sense, is moral restraint, including under this general description every arrangement or institution calculated to exalt the character and feelings of the lower orders, and to impart to them a provident, industrious, and independent spirit. There is no striking or profound discovery here indeednothing to dazzle the imagination, or interest the pride of literary ambition; there is nothing more than the impar tial developement of the ordinary maxims of morality, by enforcing the stern alternative which nature holds out in the shape of moral restraint, or of suffering and shame, and the clear exposition of the important principle, that the same contempt of prudence which involves individuals in misery, will, in the issue, cover society with wretchedness, and sap the foundations of empire. But the true dignity of moral science consists in the universal truth of its principles, and the genuine triumphs of the great masters of wisdom have been realised, not in da ring eccentricities of speculation, which only betray an undisciplined fancy and crazed intellect, but by carrying acknowledged principles to their remote and sublime conclusions, and by subordinating the common reason and universal feelings of the species to the great ends of social happiness. It is easy indeed to say in general, that moral restraint is the only cure for pauperism and its attendant miseries; but it required a mind of more than ordinary powers to bring home this doctrine to the understandings and the hearts of enlightened men, and to render it something more than an insipid truism, repeated without emotion, and admitted without any purpose of political reform. This could be done only by tracing to the neglect of it the