[unless]

, as you are deeply theatrical, you may wish to hear of Mr. Betty

[3]

, whose acting is, I fear, utterly inadequate to the London engagement into which the managers of Covent Garden have lately entered.

[His]

figure is fat, his features flat, his voice unmanageable, his action ungraceful, and, as Diggory

[4]

says, "I defy him to extort that damned muffin face of his into madness." I was very sorry to see him in the character of the "Elephant on the slack rope;" for, when I last saw him, I was in raptures with his performance. But then I was sixteen—an age to which all London condescended to subside. After all, much better judges have admired, and may again; but I venture to "prognosticate a prophecy" (see the

Courier

) that he will not succeed.