FOOTNOTES
[1] A post-prandial paper, called the “Evening Mail,” rarely seen in the metropolis, but extensively circulated in the provinces, and especially in the colonies, and in the United States, is published as a species of vesper thunderer at the “Times” office.
[2] “The Chimes.”
[3] This old man’s name was “Corney,” at least I never knew him by any other appellation. He had been a collegian for years; and being a Briton who “stood upon his rights,” and was for “freedom of opinion,” gave the governor an immense amount of trouble. I think one of the happiest days of Captain Hudson’s life must have been the one on which “Corney” (who, it turned out, ought never to have been imprisoned at all) got his discharge. He took lodgings immediately, I have heard, at a neighbouring coal shed, and brought an action (in formâ pauperis) against the governor for false imprisonment, and wrongful detention of property, about once a fortnight.
[4] Free-grown sugar in the first two: slave-grown sugar in boxes.
[6] I am afraid that this legend must be regarded as what the “Times” newspaper called, in reference to old Peter Thellusson’s delicate sense of honour, in providing for a possible restitution of property left in his charge by the ancient noblesse of France—a “modern myth.” An analogous story, relative to the appearance of a real demon on the stage, in addition to those forming part of the dramatis personæ, is related in connection with Edward Alleyn, the actor; and the supernatural visitation, it is said, caused him to quit the stage as a profession, and found Dulwich College.
[7] The ladies appear in the gallery before dinner, quit it after grace has been said, and are regaled in ante-chambers with ices, coffee, and champagne. They return when the speech-making, wine-bibbing, and song-singing commence.
[8] This absurd remnant of a candle-snuffing age, and which is about as consistent with dramatic proprieties as the performance of the character of Macbeth by Garrick in the costume of a Captain in the Guards, was abolished—so far as his admirable Shakspearian revivals were concerned—by Mr. Charles Kean.
[9] Who married again, and extinguished herself. So did Maria Louisa, so did Mrs. Shelley. They will marry again, those unconscionable feminines.
[10] This pretty little theatre has succeeded, thanks to the genius and perseverance of Miss Swanborough, aided by an admirable company.
[11] There is a curious story anent this “Green Dragon” tavern, a dim record, embosomed in the musty records of the “State Trials.” In a note to one of those chronicles of crimes and suffering, it is hinted at that the daughter of the executioner of Charles the First was a barmaid at the Green Dragon in the reign of Queen Anne.
[12] “He made the giants first, and then he killed them.”—Fielding’s “Tom Thumb.”