left
London the next day, and dying soon afterwards, it appeared that she had
altered her testamentary disposition of her property, which had once been
made in Kean's favour, and bequeathed the sum originally destined for him
to a distant relative, of whom she knew nothing but by name.

Mimic Reclaimed.--In the beginning of the last century, a comedian of the
name of Griffin, celebrated for his talents as a mimic, was employed by a
comic author to imitate the personal peculiarities of the celebrated Dr.
Woodward, whom he intended to be introduced in a comedy as _Dr. Fossil_.
The mimic, dressed as a countryman, waited on the doctor with a long
catalogue of complaints with which he said his wife was afflicted. The
physician heard with amazement diseases and pains of the most opposite
nature, repeated and redoubled on the wretched patient. The actor having
thus detained the doctor until he thought himself completely master of his
errand, presented him with a guinea as his fee. "Put up thy money, poor
fellow," cried the doctor, "thou hast need of all thy cash, and all thy
patience, too, with such a bundle of diseases tied to thy back." The mimic
returned to his employer, who was in raptures at his success, until he told
him that he would sooner die than prostitute his talents to render such
genuine humanity food for diversion.

Senesino and Farinelli, when in England together, being engaged at
different theatres on the same night, had not an opportunity of hearing
each other, till, by one of those sudden revolutions which frequently
happen, yet are always unexpected, they were both employed to sing on the
same stage. Senesino had the part of a furious tyrant to represent and
Farinelli that of an unfortunate hero in chains; but in the course of the
very first song, the latter so softened the heart of the enraged tyrant,
that Senesino, forgetting his assumed character, ran to Farinelli and
embraced him.

Weeping at a Play.--It is a prevailing folly to be ashamed to shed a tear
at any part of a tragedy, however affecting. "The reason," says the
Spectator, "is, that persons think it makes them look ridiculous, by
betraying the weakness of their nature. But why may not nature show itself
in tragedy, as well as in comedy or farce? We see persons not ashamed to
laugh loudly at the humour of a Falstaff,--or the tricks of a harlequin;
and why should not the tear be equally allowed to flow for the misfortunes
of a Juliet, or