So great hold had these affairs taken on the public mind, that O. P. watch-ribbons and tooth-picks were in common use, and ladies of respectability were frequently seen in the boxes, encouraging by their presence the more immediate actors. The magistrates, too, had not been without employment, and each evening they were engaged in receiving complaints and disposing of offenders, who were arrested and brought before them, charged with a participation in these disturbances; and scores of persons, of respectable station in society, were bailed to answer at the approaching sessions. The causes of the complaint against the managers were now defined to be the alteration of the prices, the employment of the pugilists, and the erection of the annual boxes, which were deemed an encroachment on the rights of the public, who were thereby restricted to narrower limits than formerly.

On the twenty-eighth night, (October thirty-first,) the fury of the audience seemed to have abated; the house was very crowded, and the opposition did not commence until the fourth act. There were but few hats seen in the pit with the O. P. cypher on them; among them, however, was seen a gentleman of the bar, who, standing in the centre of the pit, and being well known and recognized, the pit gave three cheers of Clifford forever!' The uproar continued until the close of the performances, when the crowd quietly dispersed. From the police-reports of the day we learn, however, that at the close of the performance, Mr. Clifford, the barrister, and four other persons, were taken into custody in the avenue leading from the pit, and brought before the magistrate. They were charged with wearing the letters O. P. on their hats, and making a violent noise and riot in the pit during the performance.' Mr. Clifford and his friends avowed the fact, and declared that they had expressed their disapprobation of the performance, but not illegally. The magistrate, without hesitation, ordered them to be discharged; and on leaving the office, they were hailed with cheers and acclamations by an immense crowd of persons, who had witnessed their capture by the officers, and conducted them away in triumph. It appeared that this arrest was made by order of Mr. Brandon, the box-keeper.

Mr. Clifford brought an action for false imprisonment against Brandon, which was tried in the Court of Common Pleas, before Sir James Mansfield, chief justice, December the fifth, 1809. Two questions were submitted to the jury by the court: whether Mr. Clifford had been guilty of a riot, and whether he had been illegally arrested. The verdict was for the plaintiff, with five pounds damages.

After the verdict was rendered, the judge inquired on what grounds they founded their verdict, and he was answered: 'We found the verdict on the ground that the plaintiff was illegally apprehended.' On being pressed for a more explicit disclosure, the answer was 'It was generally thought rather harsh to construe wearing O. P. into an act of riot, and by some that it would be inconsistent with the rights of Englishmen.'

Mr. Clifford was now a frequent visitor to the pit, and his appearance was always hailed with enthusiastic uproar, and O. P.-ism flourished with still greater vigor. Subscriptions were opened for the assistance of persons who had been prosecuted, and a large sum of money was collected. A dinner was given at the Crownand-Anchor tavern, December the fourteenth, by the Enemies to Managerial Insolence and Oppression,' Mr. Clifford in the chair. He stated that he had had an interview with Mr. Kemble, and that he desired to appear on that occasion, for the purpose of making a proposition for the arrangement of the existing difficulties.

This request was acceded to, and Mr. Kemble entered the room. He was received with some applause, and was invited to take a seat on the right hand of Mr. Clifford. After an expression of opinion by several gentlemen present, a committee retired, and on returning they stated the propositions to which the proprietors were expected to accede :

I. The private boxes shall be reduced to the same situation as they were in 1802. (Loud applause and unanimous assent.)

II. With regard to prices, that if the pit should return to what it was, three shillings and sixpence, but that of the boxes should be continued at seven shillings. Very few hands appeared for the affirmative, and when the negative was put a sort of O. P. dance took place, which rather emphatically answered the question.

III. An apology must be made to the public, and Mr. Brandon must be dismissed. Loudly acclaimed.

IV. That all actions at law and prosecutions shall be at an end on both sides. Received with applauses.

Mr. Kemble said he would lay these propositions before the proprietors; and expressing his regret at the rupture between them and the public, and his desire for a reconciliation, he withdrew. An apology from the proprietors appeared at the bottom of the playbills on the fifteenth December; a change was made in the price of admission to the pit; and a promise was given that at the end of the season the annual boxes should be removed. Mr. Kemble took part in the evening's performances. He announced that Mr. Brandon had retired from the office of box-keeper; he deprecated the introduction of the pugilists, and renewed the promises made in the bills. The audience listened breathless to the address; and at its close 'We are satisfied!' resounded through the house; cheers preceded cheers; the play proceeded, amid reiterated bursts of applause; and with this evening, the O. P. riots ceased forever.

The O. P. party in its triumph was disposed to forget the excitement of the past, and they united in giving a public dinner to Messrs. Kemble and Harris, on the fourth of January, 1810, on which occasion the reconciliation was cemented by a night of enjoyment and hilarity.

Thus closed these exciting scenes, unparalleled in theatrical history. For sixty nights had the regular performances of the theatre been interrupted in the most violent manner, and yet no injury had been done to persons or property. The contest had been successful on

the part of the public. The law has now become established, that the audience with their tickets purchase the right to condemn as well as to praise.

While managers desire applause they must submit to censure; they have no right to complain when their efforts to please fail of success. Public opinion and public taste are the criterions of excellence, and there is no appeal. The stage may now take warning by the past, and learn an important truth from a favorite motto of the O. P.-ists:

Though thy mother says OLD SKINFLINT has more mortgages than he ;

Thy lip's honey,

Bought with money

I-S-A-B-E-L!!

Montpelier, (VI)

A RIDE TO BONAVENTURE.

NEAR SAVANNAH, GEORGIA.

THE first thing I do when I arrive at a town of any considerable size, is to study the plan which usually hangs in every hotel, and obtain some general idea of the direction of the streets, and the locality of the important public buildings. The next thing I do is to mount a horse reputed for gentleness and sagacity, or who, at all events, can find the way back to his stall; and then I sally out in quest of adventures. If my memory should fail, I rely upon the extra intelligence hired for the day from the livery-stable; and it has happened to me more than once to discover in this way the truth of the maxim that Two heads are better than one.' In Savannah, where I am now writing, one hardly needs a clue of this kind. Any one who, in boyhood's years,' has watched the gradual growth of a bed-quilt under his mother's or sister's hands, and remembers the regularity with which the patches of green are interspersed with the patches of white, red and yellow, is perfectly qualified to appreciate all the mysteries of this beautiful city. The organ of order' must have been fully developed upon the head of its founder. It excels even Philadelphia in its regularity, for there is no such enormity as Dock-street, cutting decent parallelograms into triangles, and perplexing the mind of every traveller. But to do Philadelphia, which I love, no comparative injustice, let me send down and borrow the plan of the city for another scrutiny.

Well, here it is, spread out upon my bed, and covering nearly the whole counterpane. The original city is laid out with the most perfect regularity; but to accommodate the windings of the river, there was necessarily a little bend in the street which lies upon it; and here on the east is a road marked 'Thunderbolt,' which forces its way into the very heart of the suburbs. There are some twenty squares, well filled with trees, which in this spring weather are covered with an abundant foliage, the leaves looking as fresh and as green as if they had come from the country. Underneath, the Bermuda-grass grows vigorously, being protected by a railing and a peculiar gate, which prohibits the passage of every thing incapable of passing through a strait only one foot in the clear. I have seen ladies in all the glory of their flowing vestments within these enclosures, and I have also seen cows; but how they got in it is impossible for me to tell. There is always a difficulty about these green enclosures. The fathers of the city of course mean that every body should enjoy them, even boys with their shinny-sticks; and the delicate question is, how to regulate the terms of admission so as to exclude those who are unable properly to enjoy the privi

lege, and at the same time not to make the tariff bear too heavily upon the most beautiful objects in any place- the ladies. However, that is not the subject which I took my pen in hand' to write about. The strange name, the Thunderbolt-road,' caught my eye upon the first glance at the map; and accordingly, after I had trotted awhile through the streets, and familiarized my eye pretty well with the prominent buildings, I struck off into this beautiful path,' as they say in this country. For a couple of miles it runs between fences and ditches, lined by the most magnificent trees. Within are gardens for the supply of the markets of the city. They appear to be highly productive, the soil being very rich, and well watered. Though early in spring, there seemed to be plenty of peas and ripe potatoes. It is hardly necessary to add, that they were cultivated by those most accomplished knights of the spade, the Patlanders.

I followed the road that seemed most travelled, and found myself in the midst of a beautiful grove of cedars, and soon before a house that occupied a picturesque position on the high bluff of the Savannah. The family appeared to be in a state of excitement. Little negroes were tearing back and forth between the garden-gate and the kitchen, and those of larger growth were thumping away upon tin-pans, iron-kettles, shovel-and-tongs, and various other instruments of discordant music. They seemed to be directing their attention to a cluster of trees, up to the branches of which they were gazing with as much earnestness as if they meant to magnetize them; but their wills were too much disturbed, for the branches waved in the gentle breeze very unconcernedly, while the countenances of the magnetizers were very much concerned indeed. Ancient Druids could not have looked with more appearance of devotion up to the solemn oaks, whence they expected aid, than did these sable aspirants in this noisy and mysterious concert; and the priests of Baäl could not have made more of a fuss generally' than was here produced by these extemporaneous drummers. They told me, De bees been swarming,' and all the noise was intended to charm them to remain. On me it had the effect of the reverse passes,' and I pursued my way along the river-bank. The shore is bold, and the table-land is at least eighty feet above the water. As I rode along I had a succession of beautiful views, very extensive, taking in many rice-plantations, with their broad canals and their whitewashed and comfortable-looking cabins glistening in the sun-light. But my attention was suddenly withdrawn from all other objects by finding myself in the midst of an avenue of live-oaks, one hundred yards long.

Exclamations on paper never look well. No quantity of marks of surprise (!!!) have any effect upon my feelings. My eyes usually glide over them without many thanks to the printer for his trouble. In fact, I doubt if any one, when quite alone, ever says 'oh!' or 'ah!' The physical effect of surprise is a quickening of the pulse, and an interruption of regular respiration for a moment, and