fet off: But, just as they got out of the foret they were furrounded by a party of the militia. I relate what was told me by the collier's wife, though it appears incredible. Thefe two men on foot were able to defend themselves againlt twenty horfemen. Probably the latter were scattered, and they were willing to take their prey alive. Be that as it may, the action was very hot. There were five horfes maimed, and feven of the riders cut down by the hatchet or fabre. The poor collier remained dead on the fpot, by a fhot in the head. Felix regained the foreft, and, as he is of an incredible agility, he retreated from one part to another, and as he retreated he charged his mufket; he fired and whittled. Thefe firings and whiftlings, repeated at different intervals, and in different places, made the borfemen think there was a large gang of fmugglers, and they retired with precipitation. When Felix found they were difperfed, he returned to the field of battle. He took the body of the collier on his shoulder, and went back to the cottage, where the woman and her children were fill asleep. He flopped at the door, fat himfelf down with his back against a tree, his face turned towards the entrance of the hut, and the dead body at his feet. The wife awoke, and found that her hufband was gone from her fide. She looked round for Felix; he too was gone. She rofe, she went forth, fhe faw, the cried out, fhe fell on the earth. The children ran out; they faw, they cried, they fell upon their father and their mother. The mother, recalled to life by the tumultuous diftracted cries of her children, plucked up her hairs by the roots, and tore her face with her nails. Felix remained immoveable at the foot of the tree, with his eyes clofed, and his face turned away, and faid, in a faint voice, kill me. A moment's filence enfued; then again the cries of grief and diftraction burft forth, and Felix faid again, kill me, children; for pity's fake, kill me. Three days and nights they paffed in this state of defolation. On the fourth morning Felix faid, woman, take thy fack, put bread into it, and follow me. After a long circuit through the forefts, and over the mountains, they arrived at the cottage of Oliver, which is fituate, as you remembered, at the extremity of the town, where two roads meet, one of which goes to Franche Comte, and the other to Lorrain. There Felix learnt the death of Oliver, and found himself between the two widows of two men, both maffacred for him He entered, and faid haftily to the widow of Oliver, where is Oliver? By her filence, by her dress, and her tears, he found that Oliver was no more. A dejecta feized him ; he fell fenfelefs to the earth, and cut his head against a kneading trough. As the two widows raifed him up, his blood ran over them; and, while they were bufied in ftopping it with their aprons, he faid to them, you are their wi dows, and yet you fuccour me. Then again his fenfes left him; and again they returned; then he fighed and cried out, why did he not leave me to my fate? Why did he come to Rheims? Why was he fuffered to come thither? Then his reafon left him; he became furious, he rolled on the earth, and tore his cloaths. In one of these fits he drew his fabre, and would have killed himself; but the two women threw their arms round him, and called for help; the neighbours ran in, they bound him with cords, and bled him profufely. As his ftrength was exhaufted, his fury fubfided, and he remained as dead for feveral days. At laft his reason returned. At first he looked round him, as a man juft waked from a found fleep, and faid, where am I? women, who are you? One of them said, I am the collier's widow. Ah! he cried, yes, you are his widow. And who are you? The widow of Oliver remained filent? Then he burit into tears. He turned himself towards the wall, and faid, with fobs, I am in the houfe of Oliver-this is his bed-and that woman there was, alas! his wife. The two widows attended him with fo much follicitude, they infpired him with fo much commiferation, they intreated him fo earnestly to live, they reprefented to him in fo affecting a manner what would be their wretched condition without him; that he fuffered himself at last to be overcome. During all the time he remained in that houfe, he never went to rest. When the night came on, he iffued forth, he wandered about the fields, he rolled upon the ground, and called on Oliver. Öne of the women followed him, and brought him back at the break of day. Several perfons knew that he was in Oliver's dwelling, and fome among them had unfriendly intentions. The two widows informed him of his peril. One afternoon he was fitting on a bench, his fabre on his knees, his elbow reiting on a table, and his hands before his eyes. He He gave no answer to any thing that was afked him. The widow of Oliver had a fon, about eighteen years; the collier's widow a daughter of fifteen. On a fudden he faid to the latter, Go, find thy daughter, and bring her hither. He had fome mowed gra's hard by, which he fold. The collier's widow returned with her daughter. The son of Oliver married her. Felix gave them the money he received for his grafs; he embraced them, and afked their forgive nefs with tears. They fixed their habitation in the cottage where they now dwell, and where they ferve as father and mother to the other children. The two widows lived together, and the children of Oliver had one father and two mothers. It is now near a year and half fince the collier's widow died, and the widow of Oliver ftill daily laments her lofs with tears. One evening, as they were watching Felix, (for one or other of them was conflantly with him) they obferved him melt into tears. He turned his hands in filence towards the door that feparated him from the women, and then went to making up his wallet. They faid nothing to him, for they were fenfible how neceflary his departure was. They all fighed without fpeaking. In the night he rofe. The women were unable to fleep. He advanced on tip toe to the door; there he stopped, looked toward the bed where the two widows lay, dried his eyes with his hands, and went forth. The two widows clafped each other in their arms, and paffed the reft of the night in tears. It was not known whither he was retired, but there was fcarce a week that he did not fend them fome relief. The foreft, where the daughter of the collier lives with the fon of Oliver, be longs to M. le Clerc de Ranconnieres, a man of great wealth, and Lord of another village in thofe cantons, called Courcelles. One day as M. Ranconnieres, or Courcelles, as you pleafe, was hunting in the forest, he came to the hut of young Oliver: he went in, and diverted himself with the children, who are pretty. The figure of the wife, which is not disagrecable, pleased him; the manly tone of the hufband, that much refembled his father's, ftruck him. He learned the history of their parents. He promifed to folicit a pardon for Felix. He fought it, and obtained it. Felix entered into the fervice of M. de Ranconnieres, who gave him the place of keeper of the forelt. After he had lived about two years in the caftle of Ranconnieres, during which time he fent the two widows a large part of his falary, an attachment to his mailer, and the impetuofity of his own temper, involved him in an affair, which, though trifling at firft, was followed with the moft ferious confequences. M. Ranconnieres had at Courcelles a neighbour named Fourmont, a judge in the principal court of judicature at Lh-. Their two houfes were feparated only by a boundary, which crowded the gate-way of M. Rauconnieres, and made it difficult for carriages; he therefore put it fome feet nearer to M. Fourmont, who replaced it as much nearer M. Ranconnieres; from hence arose hatred, infults, and a law-fuit between the two neighbours. The fuit of the boundary produced two or three others more confiderable. Matters were in this ftate, when one evening, M. Ranconnieres, returning from the chace, attended by his keeper, Felix, met in the highway M. Fourmont, the magistrate, and his brother, an officer, who faid, brother, fuppofe we were to cut the throat of that old fcoundrel, what think you of it? This propofal was not heard by M. Ranconnieres, but was unfortunately by Felix, who, addreffing himself boldly to the young man, said, Captain, are you valiant enough only to try to do what you have faid. And at the fame inftant laid down his gun, and put his hand upon his fabre, for he never went without it. The young officer drew his fword, and advanced on Felix; M. Ranconnieres ran to him and feized the hilt of his fword; the officer then took up the gun, and fired at Felix, but miffed him; he returned the fire with a stroke of his fabre, by which he cut down the officer's fword, and with it a part of his arm. From hence a criminal procefs was added to three or four civil actions; Felix was confined in the jail; a horrible profecution carried on; and in confequence of this procedure a magiflrate was degraded from his rank, and rendered almoft infamous; and an officer excluded from his corps; M. Ranconnieres died of chagrin, and Felix was doomed to perpetual imprisonment, and expofed to all the refentment of the Fourmonts. His cafe mult have been miferable if love had not come to his aid. The jailor's daughter conceived a paífion for him, and contrived his efcape. If this was not the fact, it is at least the common opinion. He fled into Pruffia, where he now ferves in the regiment of guards. He is faid to be efteemed by his comrades, Old Furrow, William, bis Son, Clod, Dofey, Dolly, Little Gytfey, Mr. Parfons. Mr. Vernon. Mr. Bannifter. Mr. Wefton. Mrs. Wrighten. Mifs Abrahams. Shepherds, Shepherdeffes, &c. Old Farmer Furrow, difliking a courtfhip which he heard was carrying on between his fon William and a young lafs he had not feen, fends him to London to break off the match.-The young man, however, with the affiftance of his fifter Dolly, contrives that his mifirefs fhould live in a neighbouring cottage, under a different name, hoping that when his father difcovered her good qualities, he would confent to their union:-it happened that the old man no fooner faw her, than he fell in love with her himfelf, and propofed to marry her. The piece opens on May-day morning, when the fwains and nymphs affemble round the village may-pole to dance, and comniemorate an inftitution of Efquire Goodwill's, who bequeathed 100l. to any maid who made a free choice, and was married to a lad of the parith that day. Furrow directs the little nymph to drefs herself up as a gypfey, and Dolly to accompany her in difguife, as her mother, to the may-pole, when, after they had cajoled the villagers, he would come and demand her and the tool. legacy. William being now come down from town, is let into the plot by Dolly, and foon after returns with the gypfev, while Dolly is amufing the crowd. Furrow foon after finding them together, William turns it off, by telling him, that the little huffey ought to be whipped out of the parifh as a vagrant; the old man, pleafed that the trick had fucceeded on him, laughs at him, and tells him, that he means to make her his wife, and turn him out of doors. The Little Gypfey, however informs him, that fhe cannot be happy, if that young man is fo crofs and uneafy. Furrow, to oblige her ou his wedding day, as he thinks it, promifes, that he will no longer cross his inclinations, but before all the village give his confent to marry the girl of his heart, and he will give him up Bilberryfarm; in confequence of which William advancing, fingles out the Little Gypfey, to the admiration of all: the eyes of old Furrow are now opened; he confents, though with reluctance, to their union; they gain the legacy, and the piece ends. This opera is evidently a theatrical trifle whipped up merely to introduce Mifs Abrahams, a young Jewefs, who performed the part of the Little Gypfey; it would therefore be uncandid and ridi. culous to try it by the ferious rules of dramatic criticifm. For this reafon we fhall only obferve, that the preparation is palatable, and that the hand of the preparer is discoverable from the affinity between the scene of Roger and the old man, and that of Whittle and Thomas in the Irish Widow, and from the refemblance which the defcription of London given in Mr. Bannister's fong bears to Linco's Travels. The mufic of the overture and the finale were remarkably light and pretty: fome of the airs alfo did Dr. Arne credit. As to Mifs Abrahams fhe has a fweet pipe, and a natural shake that charmed us :-if maturity does but ftrengthen her voice, at the fame time that it gives her eafe in her deportment, the will prove an ornament to the flage. On Thursday Nov. 9th, an altered comedy, entitled, Old City Manners, was performed at this theatre. Dramatis Perfona. Quickfilver, Mr. Dodd. Mr. Brereton. Mr. Parlons. Mr. Palmer. Mr. Baddely. Mr. Bannilter. Mr. Hurft Mr. Whitfield. Mr. Wrighten. Mr. Wright. Mrs. Johnnion. Mrs. Wrighten. Youngest Daughter, Miss P. Höpkins. Mrs. Whitfield. Mifs Platt, Servants, Confiables, Tepers, &c. TOUCHSTONE, a goldfmith, and a man of eminence in the city, has two apprentices, Golding an ind firicus one, Quickfilver an idle and diffipated one; he hath likewife two daughters, Gertrude the mother's darling, arrogant and ridiculous, and Mildred, modeft and dif creet. With the afbftance of Quickfilver, a notorious sharper gets introduced to i to the mother, under the title of Sir Petronel Flash, who foon procures her confent to wed her favourite, and make her a lady, contrary to the will of Touchftone; who, as fome fatisfaction, is determined to beftow Mildred on his favourite 'prentice Golding, as a reward for his affiduity in his fervice.-Quickfilver, getting drunk at the wedding feaft of his friend, foon after meets his mafter, and infults him; when the old man, to get rid of him once for all, gives him up his indentures. Thus released, he flies to the house of an old ufurer, Security, where he keeps his girl Sindefy; tells him, he has a fine pigeon for him in the new-married knight, who wants cafh on his wife's eftate for a voyage to the Eaft-Indies, whither he is to accompany him. The lady figns the deed, and the money is raised:-Sir Petronel being now in cafh, and ready to embark, he is at a lofs how to get Winifred, the old ufurer's wife, off with him, between whom there had long been a proper understanding:-At last, he and Quickfilver hit upon an expedient, by offering Security 100 guineas if he will procure Counsellor Bramble to fup with them that evening, in order that Quickfilver may fetch his wife mafked and difguifed to the Knight, with whom he had promifed to elope;-Security, pleafed with the idea of the reward, as well as in having it in his power to be revenged on the counfel, for fome error he had committed in the management of a caufe for him, readily confents; and to carry it the more effectually into execution, lends them his wife Winny's cloaths;-under this plot of his own laying, the old fool is choufed out of his own wife. Lady Flafu now fets out for the knight's cattle (in air) in great state, and expects him and Quickfilver to follow; but after staying in her coach all night, with her companions, returns convinced of her folly, and that her husband had taken a boat for the fhip in which they, with Winifred, were about to embark upon a fmuggling cruise. A tempeft however arifing, they are overfet near Cuckold's Point, where having paddled about beft part of the night, they at laft make Thore in a pretty pickle. Terrified to death, knowing not where they are, the knight thinks they are on the coaft of France, by the elevation of the pole, and the longitude and latitude of the climate: however finding their fituation at laft, Quickfilver prevails upon them all to return to town, where he has a friend that December, 1775. will fhelter them till they can look about them. Young Golding, fince their departure, was made a common council man and deputy of a ward; who returning to tell his father-in-law of his promotions, acquaints him likewife of the fate of the knight and his crew, who had embarked the preceding evening drunk at Billingfgate: all which he learnt from one of their falfe brethren; and further, that he had ordered them to be apprehended as by a prefs-warrant, and to be brought before him; which foon after happens.→→→ After their examination, when Golding commits them to Wolf the gaoler, he recognizes his prifoner for one of the arrantett knaves he ever had in his custody; and discovers the whole hiftory.-Old Security is likewife apprehended for be ing acceffary in the fraud of Gertrude's eftate, and is committed with them to Newgate. The denouement is compofed of the pe nitentials of the various prifoners, and the perfuafive arts made use of by Touchtone's family to move him to forgive them; but in vain. At last, Golding tries a ftratagem to get him to prifon, that the fcene of their real penitence might work upon him; for which purpose he fends Wolf to inform him, that he him felf is arrefted and confined, and as a token thereof the gaoler presents his fonin-law's ring. This has the defired effect; the old man, touched with Quickfilver's real contrition, orders his immediate discharge; and as an earnest of his joy on the occafion, dedicates the remainder of the day to mercy, by confenting to the release of all the other criminals: after which the piece concludes with a moral exhortation to the city youths, to mark from the example of the two heroes of the piece, the contrary effects of industry and dissipation. This alteration from the Eastward Ho ! of Ben Johnson, Chapman, Marston, &c. is the work of Mrs. Lennox, a lady well known as a favourite attendant in the train of the mufes; and confidering the ground the had to work upon, she has much improved it.-However, we are apt to imagine, that he had a higher opinion of the original as a comedy, becaufe it was generally given to Ben Johnfon, than the might have had, if convinced that he had but a very trifling hand in it, which feems clearly the cafe; for the fcenes between Sir Petro. Flash, Quickfilver, Security, &c. refpecting the feducBbbbb tion tion of the latter's wife, is the only one Lucilla, fifter to Don Mrs. Bulkeley. that can with juftice be afcribed to Ben Johnson, and a very fine one it is.-Some of the lady's additions are characteristic; and a good imitation of the original ftyle; in others fhe has introduced fome modern patches which are not fo fortunate in their effect: though fhe has judiciously cut many parts, there ftill remain fome scenes that want trimming; particularly the first, and one between Fig and Gertrude. However upon the whole, it was very favourably received, the audience expreffed their approbation at different times by the warmest applaufe. --Three new fongs were introduced in the course of the piece, the last of which, a Bacchanalian one, with a laughing chorus, fet by Mr. Barthelemon, and fung by Mr. Bannister, met with general applaufe. On Saturday the 9th of Nov. the pantomime of Queen Mab was revived by the poor, industrious, pains-taking manager of this houfe, in order to introduce two fcenes of the late Rigatta. The latt fcene affords a picturesque view of the Thames from the Surry fide to Ranelaghgardens, reprefenting the proceffion of the barges, &c. of the different squadrons, previous to their landing the company. The effect produced by this united scenery and machinery was very pleafing; every barge appeared to be rowed to the time of the band of mufic, which is fupposed to be on water, and every man and oar keeps a regular ftroke: the sky flat behind, was finely defigned and executed for the general relief, and the difpofition of the men and boats near fhore, in the foreground, was beautiful, and did the painter great credit. The whole concluded with a tar's fong in character, by Mr. Bannifter, and a dance by failors and their doxies. Covent Garden. On Friday the 3d of Nov. a comedy called The Man's the Mafter was performed at this theatre. Mr. Dunfial. Mr. Lewis. Mr. Wroughton. Mr. Woodward. Mr. Lee Lewes. Mifs Leefon. Beatrice, maid, Isabella's Mrs. Mattocks. Laura, Lucilla's maid Mrs. Booth. THIS comedy was taken from the French of Sir William D'Avenant, formerly a manager of one of the London theatres, and a very prolific dramatic writer. The following is a fketch of the only incident in the piece, and on which the critic's bufinefs depends-Don John is drawn as defcended from an antient family at Burgos, with great sensibility, and high notions of honour: On his return from the wars, he finds (as he relates) a brother murdered,and a fifter difhonoured; thefe circumftances, added to his natural difpofition, make him very fufceptible of anger; he has an offer from Don Ferdinand of Madrid, of his daughter Ifabella in marriage, who fends him her picture: Don John prepares for the journey, and in the mean time gets his picture drawn, which he supposes had been fent to his intended mistress, according to his orders, but Jodelet, his man, who is a vain, prating coward, having his picture done by the fame hand with his matter', fent it by miftake to Ifabella.-On Don John's arrival at Madrid, he goes directly to the ftreet where Don Ferdinand lives, and has his jealousy raised by feeing Don Lewis come out of Don Ferdinand's; this fuggefts the plan of changing characters with his fervant, as his perfon is unknown: by this means he difcovers his brother's fuppofed murderer, and the defiler of his fifter's honour; and in the difguife makes a conqueft of Ifabella.-The eclairciffement, in the fifth act, concludes with Don John's affuming his real character, and having every caufe of his uneafinefs removed. It may not be thought candid to criticife this piece, wrote above a century fince, by the prefent tafte; the distance we are removed from the period in which it was firft brought before the public has rendered the humour of most of the characters obfolete; add to this, a want of perfect knowledge of the manners of the people where the fcene is laid, which is abfolutely neceffary for feeling the force of character. However, in a literary point of view, The Man's the Mafier is an indifferent comedy, and yet could be made a moft excellent farce; there is fomething abfurdly farcical in many of the fituations, and far beneath the dignity of Thalia. The dialogue has all the ruft of antiquity about it, and moderniz |