son, the Edinburgh manager, to play a few nights in that city. The offer was accepted; but as Mr. Jackson's season was then far advanced, it was agreed that he should first perform at Glasgow the ensuing spring, and afterwards fulfil his engagement at Edinburgh. This interval enabled him, after completing his nine nights at Cork, to accompany Mr. Peros' company to Waterford; where he performed four nights, with as much encouragement from the inhabitants, and as much advantage to himself, as could reasonahly be

desired.

• His friends now thought it advisable to begin their journey to the north, as the spring was approaching, and it was desirable to be in a convenient situation for the passage to Scotland. This long journey, almost from one extremity of Ireland to the other, in the depth of winter, was of course extremely tedious and fatiguing. However, it was happily completed without any accident, and he once more joined his old friend Mr. Atkins, at Londonderry, where it had been agreed that he should play six nights, as the Glasgow theatre was not to open for some time. Hav. ing completed this engagement with the same good fortune which had hitherto attended him, they set forward for the place of embarkation to Port Patrick. Most unfostunately, in their way to the coast, Mrs. Betty was seized with a very severe and dangerous illness, which obliged them to stop at an obscure village on the road. Here they were detained for more than five weeks, under the most disagreeable cir. cumstances; the weather being very inclement, and scarcely any medical assistance to be procured.

At the end of that time she recovered sufficient strength to go for ward, and at length, after many difficulties, and a most stormy passage across the Channel, they ar rived in safety at Glasgow.

The scene was now entirely changed. They had entered into a new kingdom, where the habits and manners of the people differed considerably from those of the country they had left, and it was not known but that their taste for dramatic excellence might be equally different. Our hero's friends, who knew well the force of national passion and prejudices, were not entirely without apprehensions for the consequences of this change. Mr. Jackson, they knew, had been blamed, as well as ridiculed, for bringing him over; and the reports from Ireland, respecting his admirable acting, had been treated in this neighbourhood as chimerical and extravagant.His supposed excellencies had been attributed to that national partiali ty, to that ardent imagination, and that propensity to exaggeration, for which the Irish have long been celebrated. Mr. Jackson, how ever, who knew that the genuine feelings of human nature are universally the same, encouraged them to hope, and assured them that all would be well.

The first appearance of the young Roscius in Great Britain, was accordingly fixed for Wednesday the 21st of May, 1804, in the character of Douglas, the part with which he usually opens. His reception was equal to the manager's most sanguine expectations, and proved that the language of nature and passion are every where alike understood, and equally relished. Mr. Jackson, in writing on this subject, declares" that he re

ceived the greatest bursts of applause that he had ever witnessed to have been given by any audience." He played the whole fourteen nights of his engagement to overflowing houses, and received the same approbation in every character he attempted.

From Glasgow Mr. Jackson conducted the young Roscius to Edinburgh, where he performed the same number of nights with such a similarity of success, that to describe it would be merely a tiresome repetition of the same modes of expression.

While he remained in Scotland offers of engagements from the principal theatrical managers in this country poured in upon him from aliquarters. He had already passed through two parts of the empire with an uninterrupted career of success, and the third now only remained for his scene of action. Till his performance at Edinburgh, he had been very little heard of in England, but his fame was now extending itself rapidly in every direction; and the continual rumours of his extraordinary talents began to excite attention even in London. Mr. M'Cready, the manager of the Birmingham Theatre, was the first who brought him before the English public. He was the earliest in his application for this enviable and prontable distinction, and every one will be pleased to hear that his spirit and exertion have been most liberally requited. The young Roscius played at Birmingham fourteen nights; and the theatrical annals of that town furnish nothing equal to the astonishing commotion which his performances excited. The public inns were completely occupied with persons who came to see him from every part of the surrounding

country: and even the stage. coaches, from places at a distance, were filled with passengers on the same errand. The case was exact ly the same at Sheffield, where he afterwards performed fourteen nights under the same manager. The town was so crowded with company that it was with great difficulty a bed could be procured either in public or private houses.

After leaving Sheffield, he ar rived about the beginning of October at Liverpool. All his former successes at other places, however brilliant and unprecedented, were here completely eclipsed. The inhabitants of this town are particu larly attached to dramatic amusements, and the ordinary receipts of the theatre greatly exceed those of any other in the kingdom, Lon don, and perhaps Dublin, only excepted. This is apparent from the rent paid by the managers, Messrs. Lewis and Knight, to the proprie tors, which is fifteen hundred pounds per annum. The house is also considerably more spacious than any other in the empire, except those before mentioned; yet the difficulty of admittance was such, during the performance of the young Roscius, that a few minutes after the door was opened, not a place was to be obtained in any part of the house. When the box, office opened in a morning, the pressure to procure places was so excessive, that many gentlemen had their clothes torn in pieces, their hats and shoes carried away in the crowd, and themselves, sometimes, severely bruised, and almost suffe cated in the attempt. There is reason to believe that if the theatre had been twice as large it would have been equally thronged. The terms of his engagement were so liberal that he received from the

managers, for his share of the profits of fifteen nights, the enormous sum of fifteen hundred and twenty pounds, as appears from Mr. Betty's receipt in Mr. Knight's possession. Perhaps it would be difficult to find an example of so large a sum having ever before been paid to any individual for personal exertion alone, in the same space of time.

From Liverpool he went to Chester, where he played seven nights; and his performances, as usual, were attended by all the gentry of the neighbourhood for a circuit of many miles. He left that city on the 9th of November, in order to perform a few nights at Manchester, which was his last engagement in the country, previous to his appearance on the boards of the metropolis.

:

It is a little remarkable, that, though on the stage his deport ment and address are so completely those of a man, yet in private life he is more than commonly childish all his amusements and sports are infantine, even beyond his years. But though among his equals in age he is sportive and boyish, his usual manner is serious and pensive: sometimes he appears restrained and timid; at others, he seems indifferent to every thing around him. But his fondness for play, and for every thing else, instantly give way when his favourite pursuit is in the question. His attachment to his art is paramount to every other passion; and his character is another illustration of the remark, that nature seldom inspires a strong ambition for any object without furnishing, at the same time, the abilities to attain it,

THE

ROMANCE of the PYRENEES

[By a Lady.]

(Continued from p. 596.)

CHAP. XVIII.

SOON as Victoria's toilet was completed in the morning, and that she had performed the most important duty of her life, she waited with some impatience for Teresa's re-appearance, who at length arrived at the usual hour, attended by Diego, to summon our heroine to breakfast.

Victoria now felt the most sincere regard for Diego, from his having been beloved by her father, and from the strong attachment he still bore the memory of her respected parent; and that re gard, in addition to her gratitude, now led her to extend her hand to him, as she was about to congratulate him upon being sutficiently recovered to leave his chamber: but the moment his hand met her touch, the burning fever it indicated gave her instant alarm; and looking upon his countenance, she was at once confirmed in her apprehensions of serious illness.

My good Diego,' said she, you are not well. Why, why did you leave your chamber?'

To wipe away some of my of fences, lady Victoria, by evincing my gratitude to my dear lamented lord, in affording that little protec tion in my power to his innocent, persecuted, hapless child,' he re plied in a languid and tremulous voice..

I am very thankful for your kind intentions, Diego; but ef fectually to serve me you should be careful of my friends.

You

compassion to her father's vassal!

a wretch, a miscreant, who assisted in the villainy of bringing her to this fatal, fatal place!'

Alas! lady Victoria forgets, in her humanity, her own sad situation. I must accompany you to seignor Sebastian; and should he think it safe for me leave you, I will then go to my chamber; for in truth I fear illness has, for the first time in my life, overtaken

me.'

Victoria's countenance expressed so much concern, that Diego strove with all his power to combat an indisposition that was visibly subduing him. With great ingenuity he now fastened the chamber-door, to prevent the possibility of the locks being again damaged; and desiring Teresa to lead the way, he, with tottering steps, attempted to follow Victoria down the stairs but his head felt so much disordered by indisposition, he was compelled to catch and hold fast the balustrade to prevent his falling. All this was observed by Victoria, whose compassionate eyes had paid strict atten tion to him; and she now stopped, desiring him to lean upon her and Teresa.

I cannot afford you much assistance,' said she, in the sweetest accents of pity; but my little, aided by Teresa's less, may equal one tolerable supporter.'

This, this is too much!' Diego exclaimed, while large drops stole down his cheeks. Such kindness and condescension, so truly inherited from my dear lord Altidore, quite oppress me. Conte Ariosto's child to humble herself thus in

'Diego,' said Victoria with that commanding dignity she could with so much native grace assume,

bling with confusion, but irresistibly awed into obedience, the poor invalid complied. The child of conte Ariosto,' continued she, cannot be humbled by the perfor mance of her duty, in affording assistance to those who require it; and him, Diego, whom my father loved, his children must respect; and it is not for me to contemn those whom a sincere contrition for their errors raises in the estimation of our Redeemer. Besides, to you I owe innumerable obligations; and gratitude knows no distinctions, because it has no pride but in evincing itself."

Diego was too much overpow ered by sickness and our heroine's kindness to attempt any reply. Supported by her and Teresa he reached the parlour, where Sebastian was anxiously waiting for Victoria, who respectfully and affectionately paid her morning compliments to him, as she led Diego to a chair, where she desired him to sit. Seignor Sebastian will excuse your doing so,' said she, since you are ill, and he compas

benefactor's child is in the castle of Don Manuel; and you too well know, seignor, the secrets of that castle to wonder at my grief, my anguish, upon her account, whom I, alas! have little, little hope of ever being able essentially to

serve.'

We will talk and think of my situation, Diego, when you are more equal to the task,' said Victoria: at present, for my sake, as well as for your own, you must think only of conquering this indisposition. Can we do nothing for the poor soul, seignor?'

Certainly we can, and will,' replied Sebastian, who ordered Teresa to summon Pedro immediately. Diego,' continued he, is ill, but not, I am certain, dangerously so: and he only requires a little attention to restore him to health. I would advise his going instantly to bed, and Pedro will administer some composing medicines.'

The world, seignor, could not tempt me to retire to my chamber whilst lady Victoria's safety is in danger,' said Diego with alarming emphasis.

Be composed, my good friend, replied Sebastian: lady Victoria's safety is not for the present threat ened with any danger; Francisco has undertaken to protect her until Don Manuel's return.'

An expression of the most animated joy beamed over the pallid face of Diego, whilst joy's large drops gushed from his heavy eyes, as he raised his hands in thankfulness to heaven: and Victoria de claring her astonishment at Francisco's kindness, Sebastian informed her

That Francisco, ever tenacious of his power, was highly incensed at Alonzo's daring to imprison a person whom he protected, and had recommended to Don Manu

el's service; and was therefore determined to secure her from Alon-: zo's villainy; and that until Don Manuel's return she might consider herself safe, as if with her own family.'

Then, seignor, he has liberated the amiable and gallant Hippolyto,' said Victoria eagerly, the purest glow of mingled hope and joy mantling over her cheeks.

No, my sweet, graceful child,' replied Sebastian: Francisco, although indignant, is too punctilious to interfere with any of Don Manuel's laws. He certainly has power to liberate Hippolyto, but he chooses to pay Don Manuel the compliment of leaving it to him to do it. In the intermediate time he has ordered that Hippolyto, and his brave companion Thomas, shall have every comfort assigned to them which a prison can admit of. However, in respect to Alonzo, he has not stood upon the ceremony of waiting for Don Manuel's return to prevent his power of present mischief; for he has placed a strong guard over him in the western tower, whither he has been this morning removed; while Carlos, with the poor deluded creature your attendant, and every person suspected of confederacy with Alonzo, are in close confinement; and strict orders he has just issued to all who remain at liberty, to protect you, my child, from every danger.'

Victoria was just beginning to express her gratitude for Francisco's kindness, when Pedro entered; who finding strong symptoms of a nervous fever about Diego, ordered him instantly to bed; and as Victoria had now no immediate danger to apprehend, Sebastian kindly assisted Pedro in leading the poor invalid to his chamber, whither he was attended by our heroine's most