You'll perceive that this routine proved, as
everything else seems to do, that the lord and the
copyholders have co-rights, and that neither
can enclose without consent of the other.

"Down at Berkhampstead, where Lord Brownlow's
railings were pulled down by order of
Mr. Augustus Smith, the encroachments of the
last few years have deprived one hamlet of its
green, have placed pitfalls, ponds, and chasms
across the most beautiful of the grass-covered
rides, and have built cottages and made gardens
out of the common ground. New roads have
been made, which are in themselves a public
convenience, but the stout posts and rails at the
side of which are so ingeniously arranged as
to enclose a considerable space, as if to enforce
a claim hereafter. At one end of this common
is the hamlet of Potton End, and here a church, a
large nursery-garden, and plots of ground
cultivated by the inhabitants, have all been
" annexed" from within the last two or three years.
But at what was another hamlet, that of Fritisden,
encroachment has been more pronounced.
A cluster of small cottages stood at the bottom
of a sloping goose-green, which was studded
with cherry-trees, and useful to the occupants
in a double sense. These cottages were first
rid of their tenants, and the little holdings
converted into one farm. This done, the goose-
green was quietly turned into a field and let
with the rest, the cherry-trees still testifying to
its ancient use. If Mr. Augustus Smith and
his advisers are proved to be right now, there
is no doubt that these conversions of common
into freehold land might have been prevented;
and as the railings torn up have recently been
carted away by order of Earl Brownlow, it would
seem that all idea of re-enclosing the disputed
tract has been abandoned. Yet, twelve months
ago this nobleman and his advisers—perhaps
there's an active agent there too—were quite
as firmly convinced of the indisputable character
of his rights, and quite as bent upon enforcing
them, as Sir Thomas Wilson is at present. The
truth is, as the Commons Preservation Society
gentlemen told us the other day, it is only quite
recently that the importance of preserving the
open spaces near large towns intact has been
recognised. This society, which has on its
council the Hon. E. W. Cowper, M.P., Mr. J.
S. Mill, M.P., Mr. Thomas Hughes, M.P.,
Professor Fawcett, M.P., Mr. Charles Buxton,
and other public men of the same stamp,
well deserves support. ' Its leading principle,'
as its representative told us, ' is to stimulate
local public spirit,' and it has helped us with
sound advice ever since we applied to it.
Whenever a common within twenty miles of
London is assailed, the committee of this society
wish to aid the residents near by enabling them
to claim the protection of Mr. Cowper's act,
and to preserve their common without converting
it into a park or garden, or altering its
character. As far as this Heath is concerned, I
no more believe it is necessary to purchase from
Sir Thomas Wilson rights which the
copyholders and the public have enjoyed from time
immemorial, than it is to obtain his permission
before inhaling the pure Hampstead air. I'm
delighted he's shown his hand so plainly. We
know what a claim of five thousand pounds to
ten thousand pounds an acre means; and we
can see every day what the effect of his building
would be. But just as his agent's thorough-
going avowal to me at the meeting eighteen
years ago prevented his building at all, so, as I
firmly believe, will his preposterous claim to
the property of the public, defeat itself, and
confirm their rights and those of the copyholders
for ever."

PLAYS AND PLAYERS.

PART I. THE OLD COMEDIES AND MELODRAMAS.

THERE is a good deal of what Charles Lamb
called "this scene-turning" in the word
THEATRE and its associations. It is a charm
and spell, and works accordingly. Something
in the scenes, the actors, and the doings of
actors—nay, even in things dimly associated
with the stage, as printed plays—which has an
air gorgeous and glittering, unworldly,
fascinating, and which seems to be a little beyond
this earth. We grow older, and outlive the
fictions which youth revels in; our vision
penetrates below paint and tinsel; we have
learned that the gorgeous Realms of Bliss
are only daubed canvas; it is forced on us
that all is an imposture, and that, so far
from touching on the celestial, is the most
earthly of known associations; and yet we
cling to it. It has a hold on us. We will have
it young, and charming, and gorgeous, as we
once believed it. In our latter days, we go to
the playhouse—good but old-fashioned word
—and come away weary, scarcely with reluctance,
as though business was over. This is the
experience, we may swear it, of ninety-nine grown
persons.

The fault of this change is not altogether with
us. It rests with our stage and its actors. The
stage has lost the broad important position it
once held—as a subject of conversation, of
discussion, and of general excitement—holding its
own with parliament and public events. Over a
hundred years came out a masterly satire by
one Rev. Mr. Churchill, which scarified or
lauded every actor or actress, from the hero
down to the first murderer. Such masterly
lines have never since been written: every one
bought the book; there were half a dozen
editions sold in a few weeks; every one applied
the points, and knew the actors, from Garrick
down to Packer. But now, had we some
one that approached Churchill, who would
read his satire, or who would know the obscure
names with which he had to fill it? Only
a few years ago theatrical criticism had
something to criticise. Leigh Hunt and Hazlitt
spent their wit and acumen on the stage, and
their criticisms, which they published in volumes,
make delightful reading. What critic would
now desire to have his " papers" collected from
the Times or other journals, or what publisher
would issue such a book? Let us turn over