respected by all. The lovely Miss Fitzwalter (whose real name, we believe, is Fowler, being married to a gentleman bearing that nomenclature) is a splendid creature, but her conduct is unimpeachable, and we confess we are aware of no anecdote connected with her history. We have principally to do with those who have made themselves conspicuous by some conduct unconnected with their professionsuch, for example, as the pretty and most interesting

Miss Eliza Vincent.

MISS ELIZA VINCENT.

Coquettish and lively is her air

Both studied, though both seem neglected;
Careless she is with artful care,

Affecting to seem unaffected.

With skill her eyes dart every glance,

Yet change so soon you'd ne'er suspect them;
For she'd persuade they wound by chance,
Though certain aim and art direct them.

She likes herself, yet others hates

For that which in herself she prizes;
And while she laughs at them, forgets

She is the thing-that she despises !

This young lady, now announced in the largest of type in the largest of bills of the largest of minor theatres, as the acknowledged heroine of domestic drama," which theatre is now under the superior management of Mr. David Osbaldistone-commonly called " Old Iron-jaws”— is the daughter of a respectable newsvender, residing in the neighbourhood of the Blackfriars-road. Her earliest effort in the drama was at Drury-lane theatre, when a child, in a Christmas piece called Zoroaster, in which she very beautifully personated The Spirit of the Star. She gave great promise of talent and surpassing beauty, both of which she has realized in riper years, and is an actress of considerable talent, but with great affectation of manner, and displays in all her efforts a considerable lack of intellect, which may, perhaps, be mainly attributed to her close connection with the insipid manager of the "Royal Vic.," who has one

advantage over all the modern lessees-that of being almost universally disliked.

Miss Vincent has never succeeded in a theatre where she had to make her own way-of course, at the Victoria she is puffed into a sort of fame, the principal portion of which has been gained by exhibiting her person in tight buckskins d top-boots as the redoubted Dick Turpin, and singing, or attempting to sing, that elegant ditty-coarse and vulgar even in the mouth of a man-termed, "Nix my dolly, pals, fake away!

but this display no doubt brings grist to the mill, and answers the purpose of the refined Mr. Osbaldistone, whose various acts of generosity have been handed down to fame by the Satirist newspaper, who has honoured him with a place amongst its

Eminent Mountebanks !

which we shall transcribe for the benefit of our readers.

THE MAN WITH THE IRON JAWS!

"The great house of Osbaldiston and Co.-my conscience!"-SCOTT.

To sing of Osbaldistone is my lot—

Not gallant Frank, immortalised by Scott

Whose hand could keep his head; the mirror he

At once of courage and of courtesy.

Who won "Die Vernon " by his manly merit,
A lass as full of virtue as of spirit-

But one as far removed from such as he

As things that are Antipodes can be ;

Whose hand ne'er closed on aught but sordid pelf--
Which he can keep-and so can keep himself.
But if his hand can keep his head as well,
George Wynne and Daddy Vincent best can tell ;

Whose courtesy is shewn in each arrangement,
Of broken faith and unfulfilled engagement;
Who won, vast prize, and still upholds in folly,
The lady famed for singing "Nix my Dolly!"
Which proves, though not intelligent his views,
That he, most certainly, was fond of news,
Much information lacked, and so he bought her,
Or rather, some say, stole the newsman's daughter.
How much with histrionic talent blest

The boards of Covent Garden can attest,
When crammed with orders was each upper tier,
The order bearers even hissed the Pierre!
And then, oh! prodigy-but 'twas the cause,
A tear stole down upon those iron jaws.
May conscience make thee totter on thy pins,
And not thy horrid acting, but thy sins,
Force the hot drop from eyes unused to weep;
As memory calls up in thy dreamy sleep
Thy insults-which, when poverty and care
Prest hard, thy betters have been doomed to bear.
Farewell, thou thing of iron heart and jaws,
Feed thyself fat upon the just applause

Thou gain'st, alike both on and off the stage;
Fancy thyself the lion and the rage.
Alas! thou art not-thou art simply but
Nine penny showmen of the newest cut!

With this we conclude the varied adventures of the

DAUGHTERS OF THESPIS.

HISTRIONIC ANECDOTES.

FOOTE

Praising the hospitality of the Irish, after one of his trips to the sister kingdom, a gentleman asked him whether he had ever been at Cork. "No, Sir," replied he, quickly, "but I have seen many drawings of it."

MISS FENTON (AFTERWARDS DUCHESS OF BOLTON).

This lady was first the duke's mistress, and in consequence of a quarrel, was dismissed by him; but, unwilling to lose his affection, she bethought herself of a scheme, as a last resource, to work upon his feelings, and bind him to her once again. She dressed herself in the habit of his favourite Polly, in The Beggar's Opera, and standing before him in all the grace and simplicity of the character, spread her arms and sang-Oh, what pain it is to part! This stratagem had the desired effect-the heart of the duke was melted in a moment, and he took her to his arms, no longer to be his mistress, but his wife.

THE BEGGAR'S OPERA.

The origin of this piece, which was written by Gay in ridicule of the musical Italian drama, is related by Pope to have been as follows:-Swift had been observing to Gay, what an odd pretty sort of a thing a Newgate pastoral might make: Gay was inclined to try at such a thing for some time, but afterwards he thought it would be better to write a comedy on the same plan. This was what gave rise to