eath)
the graceful plainness of the first Mrs. Pope, with a voice unstrung
by age, but which, in her better days, must have competed with the
silver tones of Barry himself, so enchanting in decay do I remember
it--of all her lady parts exceeding herself in the Lady Quakeress
(there earth touched heaven!) of O'Keefe, when she played it to
the "merry cousin" of Lewis--and Mrs. Mattocks, the sensiblest
of viragos--and Miss Pope, a gentlewoman ever, to the verge of
ungentility, with Churchill's compliment still burnishing upon her gay
Honeycomb lips. There are the two Bannisters, and Sedgwick, and Kelly,
and Dignum (Diggy), and the bygone features of Mrs. Ward, matchless in
Lady Loverule; and the collective majesty of the whole Kemble family,
and (Shakspeare's woman) Dora Jordan; and, by her, _two Antics_, who
in former and in latter days have chiefly beguiled us of our griefs;
whose portraits we shall strive to recall, for the sympathy of those
who may not have had the benefit of viewing the matchless Highgate
Collection.

MR. SUETT

O for a "slip-shod muse," to celebrate in numbers, loose and shambling
as himself, the merits and the person of Mr. Richard Suett, comedian!

Richard, or rather Dicky Suett--for so in his lifetime he was best
pleased to be called, and time hath ratified the appellation--lieth
buried on the north side of the cemetery of Holy Paul, to whose
service his nonage and tender years were set apart and dedicated.
There are who do yet remember him at that period--his pipe clear and
harmonious. He would often speak of his chorister days, when he was
"cherub Dicky."

What clipped his wings, or made it expedient that he should exchange
the holy for the profane state; whether he had lost his good voice
(his best recommendation to that office), like Sir John, "with
hallooing and singing of anthems;" or whether he was adjudged to lack
something, even in those early years, of the gravity indispensable
to an occupation which professeth to "commerce with the skies"--I
could never rightly learn; but we find him, after the probation of a
twelvemonth or so, reverting to a secular condition, and become one of
us.

I think he was not altogether of that timber, out of which cathedral
seats and sounding boards are hewed. But if a glad heart--kind and
therefore glad--be any part of sanctity, then might the robe of
Motley, with which he invested himself with so much humility after
his deprivation, and which he w