"Luckiest of innocent fancies!" thought our hero, relieved from a load of misgiving. "He thinks I'm at tea!""

He plunged again at the bread and butter, and at last actually realized it in his mouth. His calamities were over! He was in the fact of breakfasting!

"I'm afraid, too," said Goodall,-" eh, my dear Sir?-that the very sparing breakfast you took at my chambers-eh-ah-my, my dear Mr. John-must have contributed not a little to-to-yes, Sir. Well, Sir, but pray now what was the trouble you had, of which that foolish fellow told me such flams? I'm afraid-yes, indeed-I've had great fears sometimes that he ventures to tell me stories--things untrue, Sir." "God bless him and you, both of you," thought Abbott. "You're a delicious fellow. Why, my dear, good Sir," continued he, always eating, and at the same time racking his brains for an invention,—"I beg your pardon-I'm eating a little too fast

Here he made signs of uneasiness in the throat.

"The fact is," said Pallinson, coming to the rescue, for he knew that the whole business would fade from Goodall's mind next day, or be remembered so dimly that the waiter would hear no more of it-" the fact is, Mr. Abbott met me in Temple Lane, where I had been called upon business so early, that I had not breakfasted, and he said he would order breakfast for me at your coffee-house, and I not coming, he came out to look for me, and found me discussing a matter at another taverndoor, with a policeman, who had been sent for to take up a swindler; and hence, my good Sir, all this stuff about the jail and the two breakfasts, for there were only two; but you know how stories accumulate." “Very deplorably, indeed, Sir," said Goodall; "it always was so, and-eh-ah-yes, Sir-I fear always will be."

"I beg pardon," interrupted Jack; "but may I trouble you for that loaf? These slices are very thin, and I'm so ravenously hungry, that—” "Glorious moment!" The inward ejaculation was at last a true one. The sturdy slices beautifully made their appearance from under the sharp, robust-going, and butter-plastering knife of Jack Abbott. Even the hot toast was called for-Goodall having "vowed" he'd take his tea also, since they were all three met; the eggs were also contrived, and plump went the spoon upon their tops in the egg-cup; the huge ham furthermore was not wanting; and then the well-filled and thrice-filled breakfast-cup; excellent was its strong and well-milked tea, between black and green, "with an eye of tawny in it," something with a body, although most liquidly refreshing. And Jack doubled his thick slices; and took huge bites; and swilled his tea, as he had sworn in thought he would; and had the eggs on one side of him, and the ham on the other, and his friends before him, and was as happy as a prince escaped into a foreign land (for no prince in possession knows such moments as these); and when he had at length finished, talking and laughing all the while, or hearing talk and laugh, he pushed the breakfast-cup aside, and said to himself,

- "I've HAD IT!-BREAKFAST hath been mine! And now, my dear Mr. Pallinson, I'll take a glass of your port."

March.-VOL. XLIX. NO. cxcv.

2 F

OPENING OF THE

THEATRE ROYAL, LITTLE PEDLINGTON.

Monday night-Quarter-past eleven.-JUST returned from the Theatre. Now, whilst the impression of all that I have witnessed is strong upon my mind, I will transfer it to the pages of my Journal. I shall claim for my record a reliance on its fidelity and impartiality, for I have not the honour of a personal acquaintance with Snoxell or with Waddle; I dine neither with Tippleton nor with Gigs, nor do I sup with either Mrs. Biggleswade or Miss Julia Wriggles; I never spoke to Mr. Dowlas, the author; I know not Mr. Strut, the manager; have no desire to come out at his theatre, or to go in-without paying for my admission; moreover, never having perpetrated a dramatic work, I have no "acceptation" to hope for, no rejection" to fear :-the contrary of of all or any of which circumstances might, possibly, give a slight bias to my statements. Not being a critic by profession, it would, of course, be presumptuous in me to make the smallest claim to infallibility. My opinions, therefore, may be open to objection, honest though they be; but what I state as fact, is fact: and this I will maintain, even though such high authorities as Mr. Fiat, of the "Little Pedlington Dictator," and Mr. Rummins, of the "Little Pedlington Weekly Observer," should combine to gainsay me.

According to the Guide-book, the performances formerly took place "in a commodious outhouse belonging to Mr. Sniggerston, the brewer, tastefully fitted up for the occasion." But, about two years ago, an elegant theatre was erected. It is the work of Mr. Snargate, the celebrated architect of this place, and does infinite credit to his taste and skill. According to a minute estimate made by that gentleman, it was to cost exactly 6717. 15s. 7d.; and the estimate having been formed with the accuracy for which Mr. Snargate is upon all occasions distinguished, the edifice, when finished, actually cost no more than 13437. 11s. 33d.-only one farthing more than double the sum originally required! This money was raised in shares of five pounds each, for which the subscribers were to receive five per cent. interest-when they could get it—and nothing more. And it is gratifying to be enabled to add that (such is the prosperous state of theatricals in Little Pedlington!) the latter condition is punctually fulfilled.

"Tremendous! Every place taken!" was the reply I received this morning to my question to the box-book-keeper, as to whether he expected a full house. This information, in addition to the notification at the foot of the play-bill, that the free-list would be suspended, and that not an order would be admitted, induced me to be at the theatre by halfpast five precisely, the hour appointed for the opening of the doors. For although I had paid for, and secured, a place on the front row of the centre dress-box, I prudently considered that, in case of a rush, my precaution might be of but little avail. I did not repent the resolution I had taken; for, on arriving at the theatre, which was not yet opened, I found crowds assembled at the doors. At the pit-door I counted five persons; at the gallery seven; whilst at the box-entrance was a dense mass, composed of not fewer than eighteen or (I think I may venture to say) twenty.

It seems to be the principle of a crowd, whether large or small, whenever, or for whatever purpose collected, to make each other as uncomfortable as they can. If fifty people are assembled at the entrance to a place which they know to be capable of accommodating five thousand, they will squeeze, jostle, shove; push forwards, backwards, sideways; they will do anything but stand still, although perfectly convinced they can "take nothing by their motion"-save a few needless bruises or a broken rib. I never but once heard a satisfactory reason for this propensity. "Pray, Sir," said a person who till that moment had been the backmost of a crowd, to another who had just joined it-" Pray, Sir, have the kindness not to press upon me; it is unnecessary, since there is no one behind to press upon you!" "But there may be presently," said the other; "besides, Sir, where's the good of being in a crowd if one mayn't shove?" The good people here seemed to be of the same opinion; for the seven who were assembled at the gallery-door (which, by-the-by, is quite wide enough conveniently to allow of one person entering at a time, if they would but take the matter coolly) were jostling, squeezing, and kicking each other, as vigorously as if their lives had depended upon who should be first. But the great struggle was at the box-entrance, which is between the other two. When the door-for there is but one, though of double the width of the last mentionedwhen the door was thrown open the rush was overwhelming. Little Jack Hobbleday was in the midst of the crowd; and, fairly carried off his legs, squeezed upwards and turned round by the pressure, he was borne along with his head above the others, and back foremost. idea of the intensity of the pressure will be best conveyed in the words of Hobbleday himself. Gasping for breath, he cried, "This is awful! Tremenduous! Shall be squeezed as flat as a pancake; know I shall. Never saw such a crowd in Little Pedlington since the day I was born!" I followed the stream and entered. The others turning to the left, I did the same. A voice proceeding from a head ensconced in a sort of pigeon-hole in the wall on the opposite (the right-hand) side, cried "Orders this way!" There was a simultaneous rush of the whole party in that direction, and I was left standing alone. "Money this way!" exclaimed another voice issuing from a similar hole on the lefthand side. There I presented the ticket which I had purchased in the morning, and was admitted. I thought this arrangement judicious, for there was not a soul at the pay-door to incommode me.

An

I took my seat. Presently I heard the voice of Hobbleday. He was conversing, in an under tone, with the box-opener.

"Every place taken, I assure you, Sir," said the latter.

"My dear Jobs," said Hobbleday, "but you must find a seat for me. There," (pointing to the bench on which I was sitting,) "there, next to that gentleman. Particular friend of mine. Expects me. Something of great importance to talk about."

"Quite impossible, Mr. Hobbleday," said Jobs; "every place in that box is taken and paid for."

"Come now, my dear Jobs," continued the unextinguishable Hobbleday, "see what you can do for me; and when your benefit comesahem!-you'll know where little Jack Hobbleday is to be found."

"First company!" cried Jobs, throwing open the box-door: "Mr. Hobbleday's place: front row." And Mr. Hobbleday took his seat beside me.

2 F 2

"Glad to meet you of all people," said my old acquaintance. “Well, here we are in whole skins. What a crush! At one time thought I should give up the ghost. Worse inside the house than out. Such a crush at the free-door! Lucky for you, you paid-you escaped it. Miss Cripps got one of her sharp elbows stuck so deep in my ribs, I thought I felt it coming through on the other side-did, as I hope to be saved. Never get in the way of a woman with sharp elbows, if you can help it. Too bad of the manager, though! He ought to be ashamed of himself for not making some better arrangement for the accommodation of parties who come with orders. I've a great mind to write a letter to the Dictator' about it, and sign myself An Independent PLAY-GOER."

"You will have half the town on your side, Sir," said I.

Hobbleday made no reply to this, but said, in a tone of triumph, "Well; what think you of our new theatre ?"

"I cannot judge of it by comparison," replied I, " for I never had the good fortune to see the old one; but it is a pretty little theatre." Pretty!-Little!" exclaimed Hobbleday: you mean splendid, immense! Why, it is more than double the size of Sniggerston's outhouse, in which the company used to perform! Little!-It will hold nearly three hundred people! Little, indeed! Complaint generally is that it is too large-that one can neither see nor hear so well as in the old one. But, the fact is, Snargate, the architect, has such magnificent ideas!-does every thing on such a grand scale! Right, perhaps, after all with the eyes of the universe upon him, and the character of such a place as Little Pedlington at stake, quite right."

"For my own part," said I," I am partial to a small theatre, wherein you may count every line of the burnt cork on the actor's nose-trace every mark of the hare's foot on his cheek; where they can practise none of that roguery dignified by the term illusion, but where paint is, palpably, paint, and tinsel, tiusel."

Exactly my notion, my dear fellow," said Hobbleday: "in these good, sensible, matter-of-fact, march-of-intellect times, rational folks won't allow of any advantage being taken of their imagination, even in a play-house."

The words "pretty" and "little," which I had unfortunately used, were still operating uncomfortably upon Hobbleday's mind.

"And pray," said he, after a short pause, "since you speak of the Theatre-Royal, Little Pedlington, as being pretty and little, what may be the size of the Theatre-Royal, London ?"

"Which of them?" inquired I.

"Which!" responded Hobbleday: "why, you talk as if

have one believe you had half-a-dozen !"

66

More," said I.

you would

"Ahem! I like that," said he, in a tone sufficiently indicative of the value at which he estimated my veracity: "perhaps you have eight?" "Go on again, Mr. Hobbleday," replied I.

"Twelve ?-fourteen ?" continued he.

"You are still considerably within the number, Sir."

Hobbleday stared at me, drew in his breath, and, after emitting it again in a low whistle, said, "Well, I can't go on guessing all night. In a word, how many have you got?"

"To confess the truth, Sir," replied I," that is a question difficult to answer, inasmuch as there are several parts of the metropolis which I had not visited for nearly three weeks prior to my leaving it- each of which may (for anything that I can assert to the contrary) be at this moment provided with a theatre of its own. As, for instance: on my return to town, at the end of next week, I may find, newly erected, a 'Theatre-Royal, Cranborne Alley;' a 'Theatre-Royal, Holywell Street;' a Theatre-Royal, St. Giles's; a Theatre-Royal, Martlett Court;' and so forth,-all of which the play-going world stands especially in

need of."

"But what right have they to them?" inquired Hobbleday.

"Right, Sir!" exclaimed I, with astonishment: "right! You, a march-of-intellect man, ask such a question! Why, Sir, they have the right that every body has to every thing, regardless of the rights of every body else. Besides, Sir, by what other means could the interests of the drama be protected, the respectability of the histrionic profession maintained, and the accommodation of the public provided for? I believe, Mr. Hobbleday, that, at present, there are not more than twenty theatres, large and small, open every night, all of which, as it is perfectly notorious, are nightly crammed to suffocation. The unhappy consequences of this paucity of theatres are, that there are hundreds of actors of eminent ability walking about town unable to procure engagements; and thousands of play-mad Londoners who are continually suffering from the want of a play-house wherein they can find sufficient room to put their noses."

"Oh, in that case," said Hobbleday, "all is as it should be. And yet, if it be so," continued he, "your theatres must be prodigiously small, eh?"

"They are of various capacities," replied I: " we have one which is capable of holding about three thousand persons; another———”

Hold, hold, hold," cried Hobbleday, interrupting me; "that won't do. Can't mean to say you could put all Little Pedlington into one of them! Why, that's more than our whole population, which is two thousand nine hundred and ninety-six-(ninety-seven, I should say; for Mrs. Ephraim Snargate was brought to bed this morning of a little girl:)-and as to the notion of a theatre that would hold all the people in such a place as this-Pooh! that's an idea the mind can't comprehend." These latter words he rather muttered to himself than addressed to me.

"Now, suppose a person were in London, and wished to see your best actors," said Hobbleday, "to which theatre would you send him?" "To the theatre New York, Mr. Hobbleday," replied I. "What!" exclaimed he, with a look of incredulity, "New York, in Africa! If that be true-I say if, mind you-then, shame upon London !"

"But what blame is there upon poor London ?" inquired I.

Come, come," said he; "can't deceive little Jack Hobbleday. Your actors are not encouraged at home-not renumerated-ill-paiddriven to seek a subsistence in a foreign country because they can't get salt to their porridge in their own. Don't contradict me-know it must be so can't be otherwise: else, with their spree de corpse, would they wander abroad, and leave their profession to go to rack and ruin at