and sings Whitechapel French
like a native. This inestimable creature has already gone round the town
on a singing, dancing, and cash-collecting expedition; accompanied by the
drum, mouth-organ, and _Swivel_. We now find her enchanting the
flinty-hearted father, _Old Fellum_. Having been instrumental, by means of
her vocal abilities, in drawing from him a declaration of amorous
attachment and half-a-crown, she retires, to bury herself in the arms of
her husband, and to eradicate the score, recorded in chalk, at _Mrs.
Rummer's_ hotel.

In the meantime _Snozzle_, having sold a plot, proceeds to fulfil the
bargain by executing it. He enters with PUNCH'S theatre, to treat _Old
Fellum_ with a second exhibition, and his daughter with an elopement; for
in the midst of the performance the young lady detects the big drum in the
act of "winking at her;" and she soon discovers that PUNCH'S orchestra is
no other than her own lover. _Fellum_ is delighted with the show, to which
he is attentive enough to allow of the lovers' escaping. He pursues them
when it is too late, and having been so precipitate in his exit as to
remember to forget to pay for his amusement, _Swivel_ steals a handsome
cage, parrot included.

Good gracious! what a scene of confusion and confabulation next takes
place! _Fellum's_ first stage in pursuit is the public-house; there he
unwittingly persuades _Mrs. Snozzle_ that her spouse is unfaithful--that
_he_ it was who "stole away the old man's daughter." _Mrs. Snozzle_ raves,
and threatens a divorce; _Snozzle_ himself trembles--he suspects the
police are after him for being the receiver of stolen goods, instead of
the deceiver of unsuspecting virtue. _Swivel_ dreads being taken up for
prigging the parrot; and a frightful catastrophe is only averted by the
entrance of the truant lovers, who have performed the comedy of
"Matrimony" in a much shorter time than is allowed by the act of
Parliament.

Mrs. Keeley played the tamburine, and the part of _Snozzle femme_. This
was more than acting; it was nature enriched with humour--character
broadly painted without a tinge of caricature. The solemnity of her
countenance, while performing with her feet, was a correct copy from the
expression of self-approbation--of the wonder-how-I-do-it-so-well--always
observable during the dances of the _fair_ sex; her tones when singing
were unerringly brought from the street; her spangled dress was assuredly
borrowed from Scowton's