by circumstances; his confidence was gained by the open manner, and the truth-stamped physiognomy of our homely hero.

They reciprocally imparted their names, and Mr. Littlejohn (such was the stranger's appellation) made known many circumstances relative to his domestic griefs, which were drawn from him by the conversation we have related. He said that he was returning from a visit to his unhappy son, (who was confined in the lunatic asylum,) when he stopped at Cato's, attracted by the scene he had there witnessed.

We will dedicate another chapter to the character and conversation of Mr. Littlejohn and his companion, by which the reader will find, or may suspect, that the old gentleman will perform no unimportant part in our drama.

CHAPTER XV.

The walk back to town.

"I could wish courtesy would invent some other custom of entertainment."

"One draught above heat, makes him a fool; the second mads him, and the third drowns him."

"I✶✶✶ never was forsworn;

Scarcely have coveted what was mine own;

At no time broke my faith; *** and delight
No less in truth than life."-Shakspeare.

"A dramatic exhibition is a book recited with concomitants that increase or diminish its effect."

"It was said of Euripides, that every verse was a precept, and it may be said of Shakspeare, that from his works may be collected a system of civil and economical prudence."-Johnson.

"He (Shakspeare) needed not the spectacles of books to read nature; he looked inwards, and found her there.”—Dryden.

SPIFFARD had a predilection for aged companions. Old age is reverenced for its supposed concomitants; as, perhaps, Doctor Johnson would have said. If they are absent, old age is poor, indeed. Our hero generally found age enriched by experience, and sometimes by a well-stored memory, where

characters and events are recorded, that had escaped the historian or biographer; and he found that the old, for the most part, were pleased by his attentions, and rewarded them by confidence. Age is garrulous; but this, if the memory is perfect and the love of truth strong, may be a source of great profit to youth. A selfish, dogmatical, egotistical old man is a nuisance, he is always, regardless of truth. Such was not the character of Spiffards present companion.

James Littlejohn was a merchant, and a successful one. He had imbibed a taste for books before he was confined to the counting-house, and his knowledge was not limited to the accumulation of dollars and cents, or his conversation to "the market," or the value of stock. He was a rich and prosperous merchant. A good man off and on 'change: beloved by his friends, and trusted to any extent on the Rialto of Wall-street. Was he happy? No. He had lost his wife. He loved her more than rupees. She left him two sons; the oldest a severe student, lost health in seeking knowledge, and died at his desk; the youngest likewise an ardent student, had devoted himself to theology, and had been admitted to sacerdotal power, by ordination. The fair promise of his usefulness had been blasted by an unhappy attachment to a beautiful girl, who, after encouraging his addresses, threw herself away upon a worthless foreigner, an impostor, with an assumed title, who deserted her to mortified pride, fruitless repentance, and early death. The young man was changed, he shunned society, devoted himself to abstruse metaphysical reading, and after a short career as a preacher, admitted doubts and opinions which he honestly expressed, and in consequence was obliged to retire from the pulpit. The conflicts in his mind, with the disappointments ambition and love had received, ended in his becoming a desponding maniac, and as such he was now an inmate of the lunatic asylum. During the earlier progress of this disease of the mind, he, for a short time, sought refuge from his perturbed thoughts, his doubts and misgivings, in stimulants; but his better feelings caused him to reject this miserable resource, which only hastened the prostration of intellect, and he sunk into hopeless melancholy, with occasional paroxysms of violence; during which he cursed existence, and accused the justice of heaven. Many of these circumstances were imparted by the afflicted father during this evening walk, and Spiffard frankly made known the history of his brief life, and explained the cause of his abhorrence of that particular vice, the con

templation of whose effects had temporarily united him and his companion, and seemed to indicate further intimacy.

Various topics were discussed, in a walk of several miles; and Mr. Littlejohn was struck with surprise at the clearness with which Spiffard spoke on many subjects not usually made familiar to young men. He could not likewise but observe the confidence Spiffard evinced in the kindly disposition of his fellow-creatures, an absence of suspicion which bordered on infantile simplicity. He had no "art to find the mind's construction in the face." The seeming good, were, to his eyes, truly good.

After one of those pauses, which must occur even when dialogists are prone to communicativeness, Mr. Littlejohn broke silence by saying, "I was surprised when you told me that you are a player by profession, for it is long since I have thought of the theatre, or noticed a play-house placard. Your appearance, manner, conversation, are all at variance with my former knowledge of actors, and with my preconceived opinions of that class of men. I must consider you as an exception to a general rule. You have more acquaintance with literature, more knowledge of history, and of the relative situations and interests of the nations of Europe: you are better acquainted with the laws and institutions of this country than belongs to one whose pursuits are those necessarily connected with a profession so superficial."

that as

"The profession does not deserve the epithet, sir, and as to my knowledge of American affairs, you must suppose an American I am bound to know more of them than foreigners do I certainly should be ashamed of myself if I did not. A good actor must make himself acquainted with so many things, that he can hardly be considered a superficial man, at least when compared with the generality of mankind. The old gentleman whose mock duel and bacchanalian behaviour attracted your attention, is no superficial man. He has read much, thought much."

"Not to much purpose, or he would not pervert the gifts of God in the manner he does. But in that he is not singular. I do not charge this vice on your profession exclusively, but I fear that those who are devoted to the stage are more in the way of temptation than most men."

"Then sir," said the actor," the stage must be an evil.” "As it has been, and is conducted in most countries, and especially in England and America, I believe it is," rejoined the merchant.

"Yet, sir," said Spiffard, "good men have advocated theatrical establishments."

"In the abstract. The theory is beautiful. Moral lessons, rendered as indelible as they are delightful. But if the manager or director aims at pleasing rather than instructing, at filling his purse rather than other men's minds, he seeks that which will please the idle and profligate, because they are the majority of mankind."

"Garrick has said, sir, those who live to please, must please to live.'”

"So the unhappy victim of seduction may excuse her flaunting finery and painted face. It is the plea of the meretricious. If it is necessary to flatter vice, and encourage folly for the support of an institution, that institution is wrong, and must be abandoned. I can conceive of a theatre which would be a school of morality, but it must be directed by a wise government, or academical institution, and not by those who live to please, and must please to live.' Temperance has not hitherto been encouraged by theatrical institutions. Intemperance and its attendant vices prevail within and around theatres; and the lessons of dramatists are little calculated to eradicate the evil. Sheridan exhibits his hero and his companions revelling in bacchanalian licentiousness, and makes vice glory in her deformity. Who can calculate the mischief produced and propagated by that one scene of revelry in the School for Scandal, or of the one song, 'let the toast pass ??

"Or of any other drinking song, sir, of which we have so many not connected with the drama."

"True, but from the stage it is conveyed to thousands, in its thousand-times repetition, who would otherwise never have heard of it. Besides, sir, it comes recommended by the wit of the author personified in the profligate Charles, who is held up as the object of admiration and imitation. It is recommended to assembled thousands, who thoughtlessly applaud while poisoned by the cup they commend to the lips of others. Who shall say that this very song did not cause its author to live a scoffer at prudence, and die a bloated pauper ?"

"But, sir, the stage presents many of the finest lessons in favour of temperance, and in the most impressive language."

"Its lessons are rendered of no avail by the frequency of exhibiting ebriety merely as a venial vice, and its subjects as pardonable objects, to be laughed at merely, if not commended.

Whereas the dramatist who should do his duty, would

h

show the vice as leading to all evil, and its subject such as he truly is, disgusting, loathsome, and a cowardly suicide."

"You forget, sir, that men will not congregate to see the disgusting and the loathsome," said Spiffard.

The merchant replied." The skilful dramatist has shown the misery consequent upon the practice of gaming, and might exhibit the sufferings which flow from the disgusting and destructive vice of which we speak; and he should contrast them with the strength, health, cheerfulness, and power of doing good, which are the result of temperance."

"And so he has. The passages are numberless to that effect, especially in Shakspeare's plays. How beautiful is the picture of the faithful old servant in As You Like It,' whose temperance has given him the power to protect the oppressed son of his deceased master!"

"Beautiful!--but I fear that the picture of the guzzling, bragging, lying, contemptible (yet favourite) Falstaff, is longer remembered, and more often copied, than that of good old Adam."

"Then the lesson given by the evils Cassio experiences in consequence of yielding to temptation. His deep sense of his own degradation. His bitter exclamation, that he is hurt past all surgery.'

"I remember the scene well, and have often meditated on it; but common auditors see in Cassio's fall from duty, only a subject for laughter; while Iago's wine is a good creature,' makes a more lasting impression than Cassio's disgrace and repentance. Why cannot some dramatist show the wife weeping over her children the live-long night, heart-sick at the anticipation, from experience, of a husband and father, returning to his home brutalized, to insult her he had sworn to love and cherish; to mislead those who look to him for precept and example."

"The public would not receive the piece," said the actor. "I will not believe so meanly of the public."

"Why, sir," persisted Spiffard, "even a novelist would not dare to make so low and despicable a vice the theme of his story."

"Then," resumed Littlejohn, "the momentous moral lesson must not be given for fear of shocking the ears or eyes of the polite? Or, perhaps the poor author might write in vain, as no publisher could be found to patronize his work."

"Then I think, sir, it must be because the publisher thought it would not sell," said Spiffard.