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Leader (1850-1860), 1st March 1851, Edition Town of 1, Page 206, CJrt Slrta.

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      rake ( when she was trimming her own flower-bed ) , and told Miss Foote , without any canting whatever , that she had quite changed her mind about the maids since she came . She was looking too far then , and so did not see what they were ; but she found in time that there was no slyness or pretence , but that they were leally good faithful girls , working for their employer ' s good , and with no plots of their own . Old as Dinah seemed to be , there appears to be a chance of her growing ingenuous and agreeable before she dies . The gentry who come to the house observe that they never saw two people so altered as Harry and Dinah ; that they seem to have got new faces , a new gait , —a new mind .

      Harry had other ridicule to wince about . The neighbours laughed at him and his employer about their whole plan ; they had never heard of keeping cows on less than three acres per tovr , or , at least , five acres for two ; they had never seen such deep digging ; they had never known any body take the trouble to remove stones , or do anything but bury them out of sight ;

      they had never seen a currycomb used to a cow ; they had never known a hard-working man so poorspirited as to be a water-drinker . The milk must cost Miss Foote 6 d . a quart ; the cow would die ; Harry would wear himself out ; and so forth . One day , the first winter , the cow was very ill . Between the fear of the experiment being given up , and love for the creature , and dread of the neighbours , Harry ¦ was wretched . The tears streamed down his face as

      he waited on the sick beast . She got well , however ; and now Harry meets ridicule with a bolder face . A temperance society having been set up in the . place , lie has joined it , though far above all temptation to drink . He finds it a convenience , when pressed to drink , to cut the matter short by saying that he is a pledged member—and a curious temperance preacher lie is . When told lately that his cows would rot Tinder his method of treatment , his answer was : — " No , it isn ' t they that will rot . I'll tell you who ' tis that will rot ; ' tis them that put filthy spirits into their stomachs to turn their brains that will rot , and aiot my cows , that drink sweet water . "

      There is a grave side to Harry ' s lot now , happy as " is . He looks serious and hurt at times , though ] iis health has much strengthened , his earnings are sure , his wages are raised , his Sunday dress is like that of a gentleman , there is meat on his table daily , and he has h ; id the comfort of assisting liis parents . Notwithstanding all this , a cloud comes over his face at times . As his sister says , " he feels the injury of his want of education . " Ilia mind is opening very rapidly . At any spare quarter of an hour ho lectures Miss Foote on

      industry , temperance , duty to parents , and other good topics . The moral discoveries he has made nre -wonderful to him . He has attended church all his life ; but truths come with new force into his mind ¦ when they enter through , the spirit of hope and the medium of success . He says "it was wonderful the ideas that come into a man ' s mind when he sets himself a-thinking over his work , and there is no care to take up his thoughts . " Hence the brightened countenance which the neighbours remark on : but lience , too , the bitter regret nt his wasted years of

      Bchool life—at " the injury of his want of education . " What might he not hope to be mid do now , Susan Bays , if he had but the knowledge that every man may bo said to have the right to he possessed of ? Yet , the good fellow has raised his family to a point of comfort . A gentleman who heard of his merits , as a first-rate labourer , wrote to the mime parish officers , to inquire if there were any brothers . There was Tom ; and Tom is now in a huppy situation , highly esteemed by his employer , nnd earning 1-is . a-week . The employer , finding that Tom sadly missed intercourse with his family , and knowing that he could neither read nor write letters , went for the sister , Lizzy , to bo under-nurscinaid in the family . In another way Hurry has done ; n deeper mid wider good . Miss Foote' « friends toll her that Ilia example is beginning to tell in the neighbourhood ;— his example , not only of strenuous and nkilful labour , but by integrity , temperance , and disinterested attachment to his employer . All this is well , — -very pleasant to contemplate , —¦ but a disturbing question arises in the midst of it : — VVhut can society say to these excellent young men in excuse for thoir deprivation of funnily life ? And again , what is at best their prospect for old age ?

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      MACREADY'S LEAVE-TAKING . On Wednesday night this expected " solemnity , " as the French phrase it , attracted an audience such as the walls of Drury have not enclosed for many a long year . Fortunately , the most rigorous precautions had been taken against overcrowding anrl occasion for disputes , so that the compact mass of beings was by no means chaotic . Every seat in stalls , boxes , and slips had been taken long before . Only the pit and galleries had to scramble for places , and by two o ' clock the most patient and provident were waiting outside ! Fancy the weariness of those four hours ' attendance ! Vinegar-yard and Little Russell-street were dense with masses of expectant , jubilant , sibilant , " dialling , " swearing , shouting men ; and there was no slight crowd to net ; the crowd !

      As an immense favour , I was offered two places in the " basket" ( as they call it ) , at the back of the uppermost boxes , and , in the innocence of my heart , I paid for those places , into which I would notwhen sober- —have crammed a dog of any gentility . 15 ut I was rescued from this rehearsal of Purgatory without itts poetry , by the beneficence of a friend , whose private box was almost as capacious as his generosity ; so that , instead of an imperfect view of the scene , I commanded the whole house . And what a sight that was ! how glorious , triumphant , affecting , to see every one starting up , waving hats

      and handkerchiefs , stamping , shouting , yelling their friendships at the great actor , who now made his appearance on that stage where he was never more to r < appear ! There was a crescendo of excitement enough to have overpowered the nerves of the most self-possessed ; and when after an energetic fight—which showed that the actor's powers bore him gallantly up to the lust—he fell pierced by Maeduffs sword , this death , typical of the actor's death , this last look , this last act of the actor struck every bosom with a sharp and sudden blow , loosening a tempest of tumultuous feeling such as made applause mi ovation .

      Some little time was suffered to elapse wherein we recovered from the excitement , and were ready again to hurst forth as Macreatly the Man , dressed in his plain black , came forward to bid " Farewell , a long farewell to all his grcatiuss . " Ab he stood there , calm but snd , waiting till the thunderous reverberations of applause should he hushed , there wan one little thing which brought , the tears into my eyeH , viz ., the crape hatband and black stud « , that seemed to me more mournful and more touching than all this vust display of sympathy , | it made me forget tho paint and tinsel , the artifice and glare of an actor ' s life , to remember how thoroughl y that , nctor was a man—one of us , sharer of sorrows we nil have known or all must know !

      Silence was obtained at last ; and then in a quiet , sad tone , Macready delivered this address : — " My last theatrical part is played , and , in accordance with long-established usage , I appear once more before you . Even if I were without , precedent for the discharge of this act of duty , it is one which my own feelings would irresistibly urge upon me ; for , as I look back on my long " professional career , I see in it but one continuous record of indulgence and support extended to me , cheering me in my onward progress , and upholding me in most trying emergencies . I have , therefore , been desirous of offering you my parting acknowledgments for the partial kindness with which my bumble efforts have uniformly been received ,

      and for a life made happier by your favour . Ihe distance of five-and-thirty years has not dimmed my recollection of the encouragement which gave fresh impulse to the inexperienced essays of my youth , and stimulated me to perseverance when struggling hardly for equality of position with the genius and talent of those artists whose superior excellence I ungrudgingly admitted , admired , and honoured . That encouragement helped to place me , | in respect to privileges and emolument , on a footing with my distinguished competitors . With the growth of time your favour seemed to grow ; and undisturbed in my hold on your opinion , from year to year I found friends more closely and thickly clustering round me . All I can advance to testify how

      justly I have appreciated the patronage thus liberally awarded me is the devotion throughout those years , of my best energies to your service . My ambition to establish a theatre , in regard to decorum and taste , worthy of our country , and to leave in it the' plays of our divine Shakspeare fitly illustrated , -was frustrated by those , whose duty it was , in virtue of the trust committed to them , themselves to have undertaken the task . But some good seed has yet been sown ; and in the zeal and creditable productions of certain of our present managers we have assurance that the corrupt editions and unseemly presentations of past days will never be restored , but that the purity of our-great poet ' s text will henceforward be held on our English stage in the reverence it ever should command . I have liitle more to say . By some

      the relation of an actor to his audience is considered slight and transient . I do not feel it so . The repeated manifestation , under circumstances personally affecting me , of your favourable sentiments towards me , will live with life among my most grateful memories ; and , because I would not willingly abate one jot in your esteem , I retire with the belief of yet unfailing powers , rather than linger on the scene , to set in contrast the feeble style of age with the more vigorous exertions of my better years . Words—at least such as I can command—are ineffectual to convey my thanks . In offering them , you will believe I feel far more than I give utterance to . With sentiments of the deepest gratitude I take my leave , bidding your , ladies and gentlemen , in my professional capacity , with regret and most respectfully , farewell . "

      This was received with renewed applause . Perhaps a less deliberate speech would have better suited the occasion ; a few words full of the eloquence of the moment would have made a deeper and more memorable impression ; but under such trying circumstances a man may naturally be afraid to trust himself to the inspiration of the moment . Altogether I must praise Macready for the dignity with which he retired , and am glad that he did not net . There -was no ostentation of cambric sorrow ; there was no well got-up broken voice to simulate emotion . The munner was calm , grave , sad , and dignified .

      Macready retires into the respect of private life . A reflection naturally arises on the perishableness of an actor ' s fame . He leaves no monument behind him but his name . This is often thought a hardship . I believe that great confusion exists in the public mind on this subject , nnd next week I will endeavour to clear it up . For the present my task is that of historian , not critic . Vivian .

      Untitled Article

      MR . HOUSLEY'S ORATORIO , " DAVID . " For some weeks the musical Avorld has been in anxious expectation of the event of last Monday evening , the production of an oratorio by an accomplished young English composer . It is to the Societies of Liverpool and Manchester that Mr . Horsley is indebted for the first introduction of his oratorio to the public , and on the present occasion the burden was undertaken , we understand , by Mr . Addison , the music-publisher , of ltcgent-strcct , and Mr . F . Davison , the celebrated organ-builder . The result , " in point of attendance , was such as must

      have been not only highly satisfactory , but must have shown the Sacred Harmonic Society that it would have run no risk in point of expenditure by giving two or three performances of David during the season . We are inclined to believe that the non-production of new works is not solely attributable to the fear of pecuniary loss , but to the inefficiency and ineompetency of the chorus . We do not think , judging from the usual style of their performance , that tho Sacred Htirmorm ; Society could have performed David with one full and two choral rehearsals , as \ vnn the- cane on Monday night .

      The oratorio of " Duvid" ia , in many respects , a remarkable work . Mr . Ilorsley i « strongly impregnated with Mendelssohn's mode of treatment . Nor can this be wondered at . Independently of Iuh having enjoyed the privilege of studying under Mendelssohn , which would naturally had him to adopt bis works as the model for his own writing , there is no one who could be so wisely followed «»

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      itru * » * a ft * r [ Saturday ,

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      LINES ON THE DEATH OF MRS . SHELLEY . Another , yet another , snatched away , By Death ' s grasp , from among us ! Yet one more Of Heaven ' s anointed band , —a child of genius ! — A seeress , girt about with magic powers , — That could at will evoke from her wild thought Spirits unearthly , monster-shaped , to strike Terror within us * and strange wonderment , —

      Renewing , realizing , once again , With daring fancy , on her thrilling page , The fabled story of Prometheus old . O gifted sister , lovely in thyself , And claiming from the world the meed of love , How fondly art thou link'd within our breasts With His dear memory whose name thou bor ' st ; How doubly lov'd because entwined with Him !

      Mourn her not , Earth ! her spirit , disenthralled , No more shall droop in lonely widowhood ; Its happy flight is winged to join again In endless fellowship , mid brighter spheres , The husband of her heart , —the bright-eyed child Whom Fate tore from us in his early bloom , The Poet of the Soul ! whose Orphic song , Steeped to its depths within the light divine Of Nature's loveliness , and fraught all o ' er With struggling yearnings for the weal of man , Descended on each sorrow-cankered life Like heaven ' s dews upon the sunburnt plain .

      Mourn her not , Earth ! she is at rest with him , The mighty Minstrel of the impassioned lay , — The Poet-martyr of a creed too bright , Too spiritual for an untaught age , — Whose lofty hymnings were so oft attuned Unto the music of her own pure name , The theme and inspiration of his lyre . Happy departed ones , a brief farewell ! Till friend clasps friend upon the silent shore . Edinburgh , Feb . 24 , 1851 . E . W . L .

  • Citation
    • Leader (1850-1860), March 1, 1851, page 206, in the Nineteenth-Century Serials Edition (2008; 2018) ncse2.kdl.kcl.ac.uk/periodicals/l/issues/vm2-ncseproduct1872/page/18/