ISS SMITHSON (aside, but loud enough for the manager to hear). Ton my
honour, Mr. Elliston never casts me any thing but the sentimental dolls
and _la la_ ladies.

G-- SMITH (in a full bass voice). Nor me any thing but the rough
cottagers and banditti men; but, never mind, my bass solo will do the
trick.

GATTIE (yawning). I wish it was twelve o'clock, for I'm half asleep, and
I've made a vow never to take snuff before twelve; if you don't believe
me, ask Mrs. G. After the hit I made in Monsieur Tonson, it's d--d hard
they don't write more Frenchmen.

MADAME VESTRIS. Mr. Author, can't you make this a breeches part?--I
shall be _all abroad_ in petticoats.

BERNARD BLACKMANTLE. I should wish to be _at home_ with Madame Vestris.

MRS. HARLOWE. Really, Mr. Author, this part of mine is a mere clod's
wife--nothing like so good as Dame Ashfield. Could not you introduce a
supper-scene?

At length silence is once more obtained; the author finishes his task,
and retires from the _Green-room_ ~369~~looking as blue as Megrim,
and feeling as fretful as the renowned Sir Plagiary. Of the success or
failure of the two productions, I shall speak in the next volume; when I
propose to give the first night of a new play, with sketches of some
of the critical characters who usually attend. In the evening, Transit,
Echo, and Heartly enlisted me for the Lord Mayor's ball at the Mansion
House--a most delightful squeeze; and, it being during Waithman's
mayoralty, abounding with lots of character for my friend Bob; to
whose facetious pencil, I must at present leave the scene (see plate);
intending to be more particular in my civic descriptions, should I have
the honour of dining with the Corporation next year in their Guildhall.

[Illustration: page369a]

The wind-up of the term rendered it essentially necessary that I should
return to Oxford with all possible expedition, as my absence at such a
time, if discovered, might involve me in some unpleasant feeling with
the big wigs. Hither I arrived, in due time to save a lecture, and
receive an invitation to spend a few weeks in the ensuing year at
Cambridge, where my kind friend Horace Eglantine has entered himself
of Trinity; and by the way of inducement, has transmitted the
characteristic sketch of the notorious Jemmy Gordon playing off one
of his mad pranks upon the big wigs of Peter-House, (see plate) the
particulars of which, will, with more propriety, come into my sketches
at Cambrid