“Yes, sir, that’s the gentleman.”
No sooner had I received this information, than filling my glass, “His honored health!” I cried, adding the words of the bard,
“May never-fading laurels flourish round him,
And consecrate his name ev’n to Time’s end!”
“Bring me a bill of the play,” said I. The man withdrew with much apparent reluctance, but shortly returned with one, which, snatching from his hand, I began eagerly to peruse, until perceiving the increasing wonderment which stupified the eyes of the waiter, I followed up the foregoing quotation with another, which I addressed to him in seeming wrath.
“The Devil damn thee black, thou cream-faced loon!
Where got’st thou that goose look?”
which had the desired effect, and relieved me from his presence.
A month had passed away since I had visited a temple dedicated to Thalia or Melpomene, and, with all the enthusiasm such divinities inspire, I hastened to arrange my dress in the best manner possible, to pay them my devoirs.
The play was announced to begin at half past seven o’clock. The time had nearly arrived, and fully anticipating much gratification I reached the Town Hall. A staircase, not of the cleanest, led to the theatre on the first floor, and passing some hanging of green-baize, which formed a narrow passage to the pit and gallery, I was ushered into the former, which being set apart for the gentry, consisted of about six forms, such as are used in schools, and ranged behind each other. A barrier of the most unostentatious fabric stretched across the room from wall to wall, behind which were about the same number of forms, arranged in like manner, this back portion being denominated the gallery. As I entered, I perceived a fine portly gentleman, seated in a large elbow chair at the extremity of the first form, whose countenance was lighted up by half a dozen candles, that flared magnificently within three feet of the front row, and divided the stage from the audience. “There needed no ghost” to tell me that this was the gentleman who had honored the theatre by his patronage on that occasion, and to whom I was the bearer of a letter of introduction, then in my pocket-book. The proscenium was of painted canvass, and a green curtain of the same material scantily screened the mysteries which were preparing on the stage. Upon the right of the room, a temporary box contained the band. Those who have heard the burst of melodious sounds thunder forth from the orchestra of the opera, which startles the uninitiated, in an overture of Mozart’s, or in the wild and stormy grandeur which characterizes the compositions of Weber, may have some idea of the overpowering effect produced by a violin, played by a boy about twelve years of age, who was leader of the band, consisting of one old man of sixty, who rasped fearfully on a violincello, and an enthusiastic trombone player, who successfully drowned the unskilful efforts of the other two with the tremendous roar of his elongating distracter. The front of the house was illuminated by three tallow candles, one on each side, stuck in tin candlesticks and nailed against the wall, and one at the extremity of the room. The first piece to be acted was the Mid’ night Hour; after which, I thought it high time to retire.
The following morning I employed in paying my respects to the different gentlemen to whom I had letters, and in gaining what information I could respecting the objects most worthy of notice in the town, and surrounding neighbourhood.
The church and chapel adjoining, were the first subjects to engage my attention. In the former there is nothing interesting, excepting an oaken screen, exquisitely carved, which was taken from the Abbey of Maenan, the gallery for the singers being above it. On the opposite side is the