seeing a tall, dark figure passing the further end, he rushed towards it-wigged, powdered, buckled, ruffled, perspiring, maddened, and gasping out "Where-where's the stage?" He was barely able to recognise the Duke, who with a most delighted and delightful urbanity, at once put him upon his right course, Another miscalculation of time occurred, in consequence of Sir Joseph Paxton remarking in the green-room, just after the conclusion of the performance, that he had arranged the Queen's chair in the supper-room, in a peculiar manner, with exotic and other rare flowers, which had arrived that evening fresh from the Duke's gardens at Chatsworth. Colonel Flint hearing this, requested permission to see the floral throne, before Her Majesty's entrance to the supper-room.

"By all means," said Sir Joseph, "but you must be very quick." Away hurried the applicant, and was speedily in the supper-room, and made his way, his stage costume notwithstanding, through a number of gentlemen in waiting, officers attired in a very different sort of uniform, footmen, &c., to their no small surprise and amusement. But the sight well rewarded the effort.

But very

At the top of the table and furthest from the door, there was a richly-carved and cushioned chair, raised a few inches above the other chairs. It had large padded arms of figured satin and velvet, and a high back that had a carved gothic arch at the top. little of the chair could be clearly seen, and its outline was only indicated here and there. The whole of the back was devoted to roses, red and white, chiefly for their odour, mingled with magnolias, jasmine, honeysuckle, and tuberoses; but the high arch and sides of the chair were overhung with festoons and long dripping falls and tangles of the most lovely orchidaceous and other exotic plants, and by fine trickling tendrils and dangling lines, bearing little starry flowers, and very minute and curiously-striped leaves, leaflets, and tiny fairy buds; and some of the creepers displaying little flowers and leaves that resembled a sort of floral jewellery. At the top of the arched chair back, there was a large night-flowering ceres, of most delicious and recondite perfume. (No wonder Sir Joseph was alarmed at tobacco!) The predominating colours were snow white and apple green, with a little soft azure, and a few scarlet buds, and here and there a dark Tuscany rose or two for shadows; the whole having been carefully selected and arranged by Sir Joseph as a suitable back ground for the dress worn by Her Majesty on this, we may say unprecedented occasion. An imitation of dew drops was achieved to a degree of perfect illusion, by means of opals and glass as it seemed; a piece of refined ingenuity which was about to undergo a close inspection

by Flint, when suddenly it was announced that the Queen was approaching the supper-room! Instantly the awakened Colonel made a dash for the open door, but it was only to encounter the bowing backs and elegant embroidered coat-tails of gentlemen and lords in waiting, who were ushering in Her Majesty! There was nothing for it but to spring aside, and range in line with the officers and gentlemen in attendance, and to "stand attention" as if on grand parade. He trusted, in the confusion of the moment, that his guardsman's uniform of the time of George I., notwithstanding the polished thigh boots and towering powdered wig, would not be observed by the Queen, with Prince Albert, the Duke, and suite attending, or following. Vain hope! The gleaming glances that passed told all; and with long rapid strides, the instant Her Majesty was seated, the anachronismic uniform made its exit at the rear of the line in which it had so unseasonably appeared en militaire.

Various other incidents, no doubt, transpired with respect to different individuals, but did not chance to come under the present writer's observation.

After the performance, and before leaving the box, Her Majesty had sent to the manager to express her gratification, coupled with the remark, "They act very well indeed." This was duly announced to the Company, when assembled for supper, and was received with great satisfaction, modest and otherwise; but Dickens went on, drily adding" But the Queen is very kind—and was sure to say that;"—which very much straightened the complacent faces round the table, till they laughed at each other. Nevertheless, a few more words may be said on the subject. They really did act well; some, very well. When it is remembered the studious sort of men they all were, and the time, together with the great pains bestowed in all respects, why not? The principal character, as matter of elocution, was that of Hardman, and the gentleman personating this rising young statesman was unquestionably one of the best private readers of the day. Then, as to acting, most of the company were practised amateurs long before this event, more especially Douglas Jerrold and Mark Lemon, who, in parts that suited them, were first-rate actors, almost equal to Dickens. The two latter were matchless in the after-piece, but the parts they played in the comedy were not in accordance with their peculiar talents. It has been said that Mr. Dickens, in private life, had very much the appearance of a seafaring man. This is quite true; and his long daily walks about London and the environs, or at the very sun-burnt weather-beaten face.

sea-side, caused him to have a His full-length portrait might

readily be mistaken for the captain of an East Indiaman, if truthfully painted. But the character and costume of "Lord Wilmot, a young man at the head of the Mode, more than a century ago," did not suit him, and was in fact against the grain of his nature. His bearing on the stage, and the tone of his voice, were too rigid, hard and quarter-deck-like, for such "rank and fashion,” and his make-up, with the three-cornered gold-laced cockt-hat, black curled wig, huge sleevecuffs, long flapped waistcoat, knee-breeches and great shoe-buckles, were not carried off with the proper air; so that he presented a figure that would have made a good portrait of a captain of a Dutch privateer,* after having taken a capital prize. When he shouted in praise of the wine of Burgundy, it far rather suggested fine kegs of Schiedam. It was in "Mr. Nightingale's Diary," which followed, that he was inimitable. The late Miss Mitford, being present at the performance of this some time afterwards, pronounced certain parts of his acting in this piece as something wonderful. Neither can it be said that Mr. Mark Lemon was quite at home in his part in the comedy, viz., that of "Sir Geoffrey Thornside, a gentleman of good family and estate." He looked far more like a burly, wealthy Yorkshire brewer, who had retired upon something handsome. In the after-piece he could hardly have been surpassed. Yet both the lastnamed parts in the comedy were fairly acted. Jerrold also (a capital actor in certain parts) was hardly in his right element. The head and face of Jerrold were a good illustration of the saying that most people are like one or another of our "dumb fellow creatures," for he certainly had a remarkable resemblance, in several respects, to a lion, chiefly for his very large, clear, round, undaunted, straightforward looking eyes; the structure of the forehead; and his rough, unkempt, uplifted flourish of tawny hair. It was difficult to make such a face look like the foolish, half-scared, country gentleman, "Mr. Shadowly Softhead;" but he enacted the part very well, notwithstanding. As a contrast to these, Mr. Frank Stone, the painter, presented a very grave, tall, stately full-length of the proud "Duke of Middlesex," whose dignity was astonished at his wife daring to take "such a liberty" as to give him a kiss; while the "Earl Loftus" of Mr. Dudley Costello, was far too elegant for a nobleman of the court of George I., and rather resembled a highlypolished French marquis of the age of Louis Quatorze. The makeup of Mr. Egg as "David Fallen," the Grub Street author, &c., was

* A celebrated painter is said to have made a similar remark. What would he have thought of Mr. Dickens in the above costume?

Intellectual

such as only a fine painter could well have effected. and refined amidst his seedy clothing; resentful of his hard lot, yet saddened by disappointment and semi-starvation, his thoughts appearing to oscillate between independence of character-his political hiring-and his hungry family in their miserable attic; such a countenance was presented as the stage has seldom seen, and is very unlikely to see again, except at rare and exceptional intervals. The Irish landlord of Mr. Fallen (Paddy O'Sullivan) was represented to perfection by Mr. Robert Bell, whose gigantic stature, long frieze coat, little bit of a hat, ragged-red wig, and highly-painted smiling visage (reminding one of the Sompnour in the "Canterbury Tales") gave a picture that even surpassed the effect of the rich brogue in which he blurted out the few words allotted to him. The minor parts, however, of this play have all been reduced to mere shreds in the acting copies since published. No professional actors would be at all likely to take such pains with them as were exhibited on this occasion.

Any formal critique on the comedy of "Not so Bad as we Seem; or Many Sides to a Character," would here be out of place; but as the play is now little known and never acted, a few extracts and passing comments may be interesting, as showing the difference between the wit and humour of Lord Lytton's legitimate high comedy, and the dreadful punning stuff and "sensational" tricks of the period. We will look at two or three extracts taken at random.

ACT II.-SCENE I.

Library in the house of SIR GEOFFREY THORNSIDE-At the back a large window opening nearly to the ground-Side-door to an adjoining room-Style of decoration, that introduced from the Dutch in the reign of William III. (old-fashioned, therefore, at the date assigned to the Play), rich and heavy; oak panels, partly gilt; highbacked chairs, &c.

Enter SIR GEOFFREY and HODGE.

Sir Geof. But I say the dog did howl last night, and it is a most suspicious circumstance.

Hodge. Fegs, my dear Maester, if you'se think that these Lunnon thieves have found out that your honour's rents were paid last woik, mayhap I'd best sleep here in the loibery.

Sir Geof. [Aside. How does he know I keep my moneys here?]

Hodge. Zooks! I'se the old blunderbuss, and that will boite better than any dog, I'se warrant !

Sir Geof. [Aside. I begin to suspect him. For ten years have I nursed that viper at my hearth, and now he wants to sleep in my library, with a loaded blunderbuss, in case I should come in and detect him. I

see murder in his very face. How blind I've been!] Hodge, you are very good-very; come closer. [Aside. What a felon step he has !] But I don't keep my rents here, they're all gone to the banker's.

Hodge. Mayhap I'd best go and lock up the plate; or will you send that to the banker's?

Sir Geof. [Aside. I wonder if he has got an accomplice at the banker's! It looks uncommonly like it.] No, I'll not send the plate to the banker's, I'll-consider, You've not detected the miscreant who has been flinging flowers into the library the last four days?—or observed any one watching your master when he walks in his garden, from the window of that ugly old house in Deadman's Lane?

Hodge. With the sign of the Crown and Poor Culley! Why, it maun be very leately. 'Tint a week ago 'sin it war empty.

Sir Geof. [Aside. How he evades the question!--just as they do at the Old Bailey.] Get along with you and feed the house-dog—he's honest!

Hodge, Yes, your honour.

[Exit.

Sir Geof. I'm a very unhappy man, very. Never did harm to any one -done good to many. And ever since I was a babe in the cradle, all the world have been conspiring and plotting against me. It certainly is an exceedingly wicked world; and what its attraction can be to the other worlds, that they should have kept it spinning through space for six thousand years, I can't possibly conceive-unless they are as bad as itself; I should not wonder. That new theory of attraction is a very suspicious circumstance against the planets-there's a gang of 'em! [A bunch of flowers is thrown in at the window.] Heaven defend me ! There it is again! This is the fifth bunch of flowers that's been thrown at me through the window-what can it possibly mean?-the most alarming circumstance,

[Cautiously poking at the flowers with his sword.

Lord Wilmot (Charles Dickens) being in love with Lucy, the daughter of Sir Geoffrey Thornside (Mark Lemon), and being unable to obtain an interview, is continually throwing bouquets into one or other of the windows. Mr. Goodenough Easy (Mr. Topham) now enters, with "How d'ye do, my hearty?"

Sir Geof.

Ugh! hearty, indeed!

Easy. Why, what's the matter?

flowers for?-is there a snake in them?

What are you poking at those

Sir Geof. Worse than that, I suspect! Hem! Goodenough Easy, I believe I may trust you

Easy. You trusted me once with five thousand pounds.

Sir Geof. Dear, dear, I forgot that. But you paid me back, Easy? Easy. Of course; but the loan saved my credit, and made my fortune: so the favour's the same.

Sir Geof. Ugh! Don't say that; favours and perfidy go together! a truth I learned early in life. What favours I heaped on my foster