beaten down, and has fought, on his knees, five times round the stage; and that, in his turn, Grumps has been beaten down, and has fought nine times round on his side, the villain Grumps is slain. A thunderbolt strikes the cow-house, which is shattered to atoms; the ghost of the murdered Mrs. Grumps appears; the other characters of the piece come on and form another tableau; and in the midst of green fire, blue fire, red fire, and fire of all colours, accompanied with squibs, crackers, and the sound of a gong, the curtain drops. I must add that there is an underplot, of which the subject is the loves of young Squigs and Lavinia Grumps. But, in my opinion, it might be dispensed with, as, instead of assisting, it rather encumbers the main action of the piece.

Considered as a whole, I look upon the "Hatchet of Horror" as being, at least, equal to any melodrame which I have had the pleasure of seeing for a long time past: as a piece of writing it is infinitely superior to the best. But its greatest claim to praise is that it is both Original and Domestic. By original, is meant that it is not [said to be] taken from the French; and that its characters, incidents, and situations, although forming the staple of this species of composition time immemorial, are interwoven with a story not exactly like that of any of its predecessors. By domestic, we are to understand that its leading characters are not kings, princes, or princesses, nor ladies and gentlemen, nor even what is usually implied by the term "decent people;" but gallant, independent, free-thinking spirits, selected from low (or, to use the cant word, domestic) life, who are admirably contrived, by their actions and sentiments, at once to illustrate the tyranny of the laws, and teach the oppressed and suffering "lower orders" the pleasure as well as the propriety of resisting them. Hobbleday was entirely of this opinion. How interesting and edifying!" exclaimed he, as the curtain fell. "Poaching, smuggling, robbery, arson, and murder all in one piece! And, then, what liberal sentiments! This is the sort of thing, my dear fellow, to improve-to enlarge the understanding of the lower classes. Glad they didn't talk about touching the Funds, though: my sixty-pounds a-year, you know."

On the fall of the curtain there was a call for Snoxell and Miss Julia Wriggles. After a decent delay they appeared. One bowed and bowed, the other curtsied and curtsied. A wreath-it appeared to me to be the same that had already made its appearance—was thrown from the little box over the stage. It fell immediately between the lady and gentleman. Snoxell, with a bow and a smile, was stooping to pick it up; when Miss Julia, putting her foot upon it, and, at the same time, saying to Snoxell, "Not for you, you stupid fool!" took possession of the trophy. Cheers, and waving of handkerchiefs, accompanied the retirement of these favourites. The next favourites who were honoured with a similar distinction (the wreath excepted) were Waddle and Mrs. Biggleswade. The next complimented were Stride, Stagger, Mrs. A. Strut and Mlle. Sara des Entrechats. After these In short, this compliment to distinguished ability was, in turn, bestowed upon every performer in the piece, which of course added greatly to its value. Some one then called for Mr. Siffle, the prompter, who, though not seen, had been distinctly heard; but, as that gentleman had not actually appeared upon the stage, the call was overruled. I was somewhat astonished that the good Little Pedlingtonians did not call for the

cow, which had appeared. But upon Hobbleday's informing me that the animal was nothing more than a donkey sewed up in a cow's hide; and also observing how nearly it had spoiled Snoxell's great scene by braying when the tragedian led him forth-an act which this Life-Governor of the Zoological Garden assured me was not natural to the character he represented-I felt satisfied that the incautious quadruped did not deserve the compliment.

My notices of the rest of the performances must be brief.

BROAD-SWORD HORNPIPE, by Miss Julia Wriggles. Performed three times. Miss J. W. called for, wreath, &c. In apothecary phrase "Dose as before."

ALL ROUND MY HAT, " a new and elegant Burletta, without songs or any musical accompaniment whatever." (Hobbleday asked me what could be meant by a burletta without songs? Could not explain. Referred him to the Master of the Ceremonies of Little Pedlington, and Licenser, who ought to be able to give him the information.) Piece eminently successful. Principal characters by Tippleton (" the facetious Tippleton ") and Miss Julia Wriggles. Both called for, &c.

WHO ARE YOU? "a fashionable interlude." -- Unequivocally damned, although supported by the whole strength of Tippleton, Gigs, and Miss Julia Wriggles. Nevertheless, they were all called for, and so forth.

SHE SHALL BE AN ACTRESS. As the whole of the characters (eight!) were performed by Miss Julia Wriggles, the piece might have carried a second title-WHETHER OR No. Complete success. J. W. called for, and the wreath again.

Miss

Of the performers I shall merely say-Snoxell, great; Waddle good, but prone to rant; Tippleton hard as an iron poker; Gigs rich and easy; Mrs. Biggleswade, first rate; Miss Julia Wriggles, wonderfulfor a first appearance-for she played with all the à-plomb of a practised stager. Her forte, tragedy; in comedy, elegant but cold; sings (I must say it) like a raven; but dances-like one of Ducrow's horses. In her eight characters her various dialects were good, but all alike: Irish, French, German, Scotch-all Irish.

Owing to the length of the performances the theatre not closed till near eleven o'clock! "Late hours for Little Pedlington," said Hobbleday, as he shook hands with me at parting.

To-morrow morning I shall see how far my statement of facts is borne out by the "Dictator," and the "Observer." As for opinions, their's will be their's, as mine are mine. And so, good night!

P.*

2 G

March.-VOL. XLIX, NO, CXcv.

MEMOIR OF MRS. GORE.

(WITH A PORTRAIT.)

THE original of the accompanying portrait is perhaps better known to the lovers of light literature under the name of "The Authoress of Mothers and Daughters" than under her own. Born at the commencement of the century of whose peculiarities she was destined to be the lively delineator, Mrs. Gore, who has now attained her thirty-eighth year, is the survivor of a highly-respectable Nottinghamshire family, from whom she inherited a handsome fortune. In the year 1823, this lady became the wife of Charles Arthur Gore, Esq., of the 1st Regiment of Life Guards, and has been the mother of a numerous family, of whom three children only survive.

From a very early age, Mrs. Gore was distinguished, or stigmatized, by her young companions by the title of "The Poetess ;" and at fifteen, previously to Lord Byron's announcement of the concluding cantos of "Childe Harold," we are assured that she composed an additional canto to that magnificent poem, which called forth general surprise and commendation. This poem, and another of considerable length, entitled "The Graves of the North," received high applause from Joanna Baillie, and many literary critics of indisputable judgment; but they were never printed.

Mrs. Gore's first publication was a poem, entitled "The Two Broken Hearts," which was followed by "The Bond," a dramatic poem, published, in 1824, by John Murray. These two works, though highly praised by the reviews, made no lasting impression. Public sympathy was exhausted by the higher inspirations of Byron, still familiar in every mind: the moment was not propitious to a poetical adventurer.

After a lapse of several years, we find Mrs. Gore appealing anew, as a novelist, to the critical tribunal. Her pathetic tale of "The Lettre de Cachet" was followed, after a prolonged sojourn on the Continent, by the publication of the "Hungarian Tales," in praise of which the reviews of the day were unanimous. Even these romances, however, did not call into action the peculiar vein of Mrs. Gore, which was first recognized in a novel, published by Mr. Colburn, entitled "The Manners of the Day," to which a judge no less competent than George IV. assigned the honour of being the "best-bred and most amusing novel published in his remembrance." It was also pointed out to notice by an able and highly-commendatory article in the "Edinburgh Review;" and her following work, "Mothers and Daughters; a Tale of 1830," (now included in the collection of the Standard Novelists,) enjoyed the distinction of being lauded with equal favour by the "Quarterly" and "Westminster" Reviews! "If Horace were to appear again on earth,"