ns;
if he speak of history,--why he has played in _Richard_ and
_Coriolanus_. The stage is with him the fixed orb around which the
whole world revolves; there is nothing worthy of a moment's devotion one
hundred yards from the green-room. It is amusing to perceive how blind,
how dead, is our real Actor to the stir and turmoil of politics; he will
turn from a Salamanca to admire a _Sir John Brute's_ wig; Waterloo
sinks into insignificance before the amber-headed cane of a _Sir Peter
Teazle_. What is St. Stephen's to him--what the memory of Burke and
Chatham? To be sure, Sheridan is well remembered; but then Sheridan
wrote the _Critic_.

A mackerel lives longer out of water than does an Actor out of his
element: he cannot, for a minute, "look abroad into universality."
Keep him to the last edition of a new or old play, the burning of the
two theatres, or an anecdote of John Kemble, and our Actor sparkles
amazingly. Put to him an unprofessional question, and you strike him
dumb; an abstract truth locks his jaws. On the contrary, listen to the
stock-joke; lend an attentive ear to the witticism clubbed by the whole
green-room--for there is rarely more than _one_ at a time in
circulation--and no man talks faster--none with a deeper delight to
himself--none more profound, more knowing. The conversation of our
Actor is a fine "piece of mosaic." Here Shakspeare is laid under
contribution--here Farquhar--here Otway. We have an undigested mass of
quotations, dropping without order from him. In words he is absolutely
impoverishable. What a lion he stalks in a country town! How he stilts
himself upon his jokes over the sleek, unsuspecting heads of his
astonished hearers! He tells a story; and, for the remainder of the
night, sits embosomed in the ineffable lustre of his humour.--_Monthly
Mag_.

* * * * *

THE NOVELIST.

* * * * *

THE BROKEN HEART.

A mutual affection had existed from their very childhood between
Henri Merville and Louise Courtin; their respective parents were
near neighbours, and on very friendly terms with one another; they,
therefore, watched the infantile attachment of their children with
great pleasure, and with still more self-congratulation did they
perceive that, growing with their growth, and strengthening with their
strength, it had ripened into an ardent and deep-rooted passion. When
Henri, however, had attained his twentieth y