to repeat; and thus he was to rank among the Garricks and the Kembles of the day.

The words in question were only three in number; and they were to be uttered by Delpini in the character of a Magician, at the instant that Harlequin and Columbine were in the act of embracing: they were— "Pluck them asunder!"

Big with the expectation of his pension, but more so with the importance of his new character, Delpini repeated the above short sentence on every occasion, for several weeks, and with every possible variety of accent and intonation. There was not a performer in the Theatre whom he did not apply to, to hear him rehearse his part; so that, at length, every one voted him a complete bore.

The gentleman whose applause he was most anxious of obtaining was Mr. Kemble; and, whenever he met him behind the scenes, in the passages, or in the Greenroom, he caught hold of him by the arm or by a button, and held him fast, until he had repeated the important words with suitable gesture and action. One night, as Kemble was standing beside the wing, helmeted and buskined as Coriolanus, and, with truncheon in hand, preparing to lead the Volsci forth to battle, Delpini made his appearance, and thus addressed the Roman hero:

"Mistare Kembel, I am ver glad I av found you, Sare you sal see me rehearsal my part."

"Not now," answered Kemble, "it is impossible, Mr. Delpini; do you not see that I am just going on the stage?"

"But," persisted the grimacier, "I sal not detain you, Sare, un moment; you sal see dat I prononce mon

charactere, proprement; and vith de propere emphasis on de last voard."

"Well, well!" replied Kemble, pettishly; "begin, begin-I must go on the stage directly."

"I sal not detain you, Sare," returned Delpini, as he leaned on his right leg, and threw out his arm at an angle of forty-five degrees. Then, infusing into his countenance all the imitative rage which it was capable of expressing, he bellowed out, "Plock dem assondere!"

Poor Kemble, the muscles of whose face had been screwed up to the most heroic pitch, felt his risible chord so tickled by Delpini's ludicrous pronunciation and manner, that, at that instant receiving his cue of entrance, he was forced to turn his head aside from the audience, for nearly a minute, before he could address his troops without laughing.

At length, the awful, important, and ominous night arrived when Mr. Delpini was to make his debut as a speaking actor. To those who are acquainted with the nature of what is, among theatrical people, termed stage fright, the writer need not state, that, however perfectly a young actor may be able to repeat his part by rote, in his own apartment, or at rehearsal; there is a something, when he comes before the audience, in all the blaze of dazzling light reflected upon his person, that strikes him with terror, binds up his tongue, deprives him of memory, scatters his senses, and roots him to the spot, as if he were in a state of fascination: or, to speak in theatrical terms, "he is stuck fast."

Such was the case with poor Delpini: he had repeated his little part until he had almost forgotten it, for

it had left no impression upon his mind; and his extreme anxiety destroyed even the little chance there was of his recollecting it in the time of need. He had spoken the words at least ten thousand times; he had repeated them sitting, standing, walking, lying; he had rehearsed them to all sorts of persons, and on all occasions, both at home and abroad; he had given them every variety of form, accent, and emphasis, of which they were capable-but, when the hour of trial came, he was found wanting.

The performers had crowded around, all anxious for his success, and all ready to prompt him; but, as Solomon says, "in the multitude of advisers the counsel faileth," so it turned out on the present occasion. Columbine had flown to her faithful lover, and locked him in her fast embrace: the magician's wand was raised aloft to command their separation; but-no words accompanied the action. Delpini was stuck fast. Voices from every side cried out, "Now, Delpini, now's your time !—fire away, my hearty !-speak, man!— why don't you speak?" But the magician was, himself, in a state of enchantment;-he was immoveable; -until the prompter's voice was heard above the rest, saying, "Pluck them asunder!" These words shot across his brain like a flash of lightning: he recovered from his trance, and repeating his action with the wand, he roared out "MassonDERE-plock et !"

This ludicrous termination of his arduous labours made the theatre echo with laughter, both behind and before the curtain; and poor Delpini retired behind the scenes, in a state of the most complete discomfiture. Being a little recovered, however, he said to several of

the performers who came up to condole with him, their sides shaking with laughter, "Nevere mind, ladies and gentlemens: dose may laugh dat lose; I av win, and sal laugh to myself.-I av gain de pension, by Gar! and I care noting at all for nobody."

VOL. 1.

VI.

THE ROYAL BROTHERS.

SEVERAL of the Princes, sons to George III., became members of Brookes's soon after coming of age. The two eldest were of course great favourites with every body; but this partiality was not so much the consequence of their high rank as of their great goodnature and affability, their convivial habits, and their uniformly genteel deportment. They shared largely, likewise, in the admiration of the fair sex, at whose tea and card-tables it was often a matter of serious dispute as to which was the handsomest fellow. Whilst many a maid, wife, and widow, anxiously endeavoured to captivate that gay deceiver-that modern Lothario-the Heir Apparent; other devotees wished to have the advantages of clerical consolation, and cast many a longing, lingering look on the manly features and comely person of the Bishop of Osnaburg. In short, two finer-looking young men than the Prince of Wales and the Duke of York, were not to be seen in a day's march.

Equality of rank and similarity of pursuits cemented, between the Prince of Wales and the Duke of York, that fraternal affection which is so commendable a trait in the character of all well-regulated families; and, though their opinions on many political questions were quite in opposition, that harmony was never disturb