applause; and when, in the excitement of his
feelings on one occasion, after a soliloquy, he
'went off' on his back, kicking and shuffling
along the ground, after the manner of bold
spirits in trouble, who object to be taken
to the station-house, the cheering was
tremendous.

And to see how little harm he had done,
after all! Sir George Elmore's elder brother
was NOT dead. Not he! He recovered, after
this sensitive creature had ' fel-ed in er-orror,'
and, putting a black ribbon over his eyes to
disguise himself, went and lived in a modest
retirement with his only child. In short, Mr.
Stars was the identical individual! When
Will Stanmore turned out to be the wrongful
Sir George Elmore's son, instead of the Child
of Mystery and Man of Crime, who turned out
to be Michael's son, (a change having been
effected, in revenge, by the lady from the
Pyrenean Mountains, who became the Wild
Wanderer of the Heath, in consequence of the
wrongful Sir George Elmore's perfidy to her
and desertion of her), Mr. Stars went up to
the Castle, and mentioned to his murdering
brother how it was. Mr. Stars said it was
all right; he bore no malice; he had kept
out of the way, in order that his murdering
brother (to whose numerous virtues he was
no stranger) might enjoy the property; and
now he would propose that they should make
it up and dine together. The murdering
brother immediately consented, embraced the
Wild Wanderer, and it is supposed sent instructions
to Doctors' Commons for a license to
marry her. After which, they were all very
comfortable indeed. For it is not much to
try to murder your brother for the sake of
his property, if you only suborn such a
delicate assassin as Michael the Mendicant!

All this did not tend to the satisfaction
of the Child of Mystery and Man of Crime,
who was so little pleased by the general
happiness, that he shot Will Stanmore, now
joyfully out of prison and going to be married
directly to May Morning, and carried off the
body, and May Morning to boot, to a lone
hut. Here, Will Stanmore, laid out for dead
at fifteen minutes past twelve, P.M., arose at
seventeen minutes past, infinitely fresher than
most daisies, and fought two strong men
single-handed. However, the Wild Wanderer,
arriving with a party of male wild wanderers,
who were always at her disposal—and the
murdering brother arriving arm-in-arm with
Mr. Stars—stopped the combat, confounded
the Child of Mystery and Man of Crime, and
blessed the lovers.

The adventures of 'RED RIVEN THE BANDIT '
concluded the moral lesson of the evening.
But, feeling by this time a little fatigued, and
believing that we already discerned in the
countenance of Mr. Whelks a sufficient confusion
between right and wrong to last him for
one night, we retired: the rather as we
intended to meet him, shortly, at another place
of dramatic entertainment for the people.

AN INCIDENT IN THE LIFE OF MADLLE CLAIRON.

THE occurrence related in the letter which
we are about to quote, is a remarkable
instance of those apparently supernatural
visitations which it has been found so difficult
(if not impossible) to explain and account for.
It does not appear to have been known to
Scott, Brewster, or any other English writer
who has collected and endeavoured to expound
those ghostly phenomena.

Clairon was the greatest tragedian that ever
appeared on the French stage; holding on it
a supremacy similar to that of Siddons on our
own. She was a woman of powerful intellect,
and had the merit of effecting a complete
revolution in the French school of tragic acting;
substituted an easy, varied, and natural
delivery for the stilted and monotonous
declamation which had till then prevailed, and
being the first to consult classic taste and
propriety of costume. Her mind was
cultivated by habits of intimacy with the most
distinguished men of her day; and she was
one of the most brilliant ornaments of those
literary circles which the contemporary
Memoir writers describe in such glowing colours.
In an age of corruption, unparalleled in
modern times, Mademoiselle Clairon was not
proof against the temptations to which her
position exposed her. But a lofty spirit, and
some religious principles, which she retained
amidst a generation of infidels and scoffers,
saved her from degrading vices, and enabled
her to spend an old age protracted beyond the
usual period of human life, in respectability
and honour.

She died in 1803, at the age of eighty. She
was nearly seventy when the following letter
was written. It was addressed to M. Henri
Meister, a man of some eminence among the
literati of that period; the associate of Diderot,
Grimm, D'Holbach, M. and Madame Necker,
&c., and the collaborateur of Grimm in his
famous ' Correspondence.' This gentleman
was Clairon's ' literary executor; ' having
been intrusted with her Memoirs, written by
herself, and published after her death.

With this preface we give Mademoiselle
Clairon's narrative, written in her old age, of
an occurrence which had taken place half a
century before.

'In 1743, my youth, and my success on the
stage, had drawn round me a good many
admirers. M. de S——, the son of a merchant
in Brittany, about thirty years old, handsome,
and possessed of considerable talent, was one
of those who were most strongly attached to
me. His conversation and manners were those
of a man of education and good society, and
the reserve and timidity which distinguished
his attention made a favourable impression on
me. After a green-room acquaintance of
sometime I permitted him to visit me at my