quished, and
mindful of his failing life, was silent, and pressed his handkerchief to
his eyes a moment; then he said:

"No, Bracy, no. Be composed, I pray you. She is right. Young people,
forgive me that I love the dead too well, and the days when I was what
you are now. Drat the woman," continued he, half ashamed of his emotion;
"she makes us laugh, and makes us cry, just as she used."

"What does he say, young woman?" said the old lady, dryly, to Mrs.
Clive.

"He says you make us laugh, and make us cry, madam; and so you do me,
I'm sure."

"And that's Peg Woffington's notion of an actress! Better it, Cibber and
Bracegirdle, if you can," said the other, rising up like lightning.

She then threw Colley Cibber a note, and walked coolly and rapidly out
of the room, without looking once behind her.

The rest stood transfixed, looking at one another, and at the empty
chair. Then Cibber opened and read the note aloud. It was from Mrs.
Bracegirdle: "Playing at tric-trac; so can't play the fool in your
green-room to-night. B."

On this, a musical ringing laugh was heard from outside the door, where
the pseudo Bracegirdle was washing the gray from her hair, and the
wrinkles from her face--ah! I wish I could do it as easily!--and the
little bit of sticking-plaster from her front tooth.

"Why, it is the Irish jade!" roared Cibber.

"Divil a less!" rang back a rich brogue; "and it's not the furst time we
put the comether upon ye, England, my jewal!"

One more mutual glance, and then the mortal cleverness of all this began
to dawn on their minds; and they broke forth into clapping of hands, and
gave this accomplished _mime_ three rounds of applause; Mr. Vane and Sir
Charles Pomander leading with, "Bravo, Woffington!"

Its effect on Mr. Vane may be imagined. Who but she could have done
this? This was as if a painter should so paint a man as to deceive his
species. This was acting, but not like the acting of the stage. He
was in transports, and self-satisfaction at his own judgment mingled
pleasantly with his admiration.

In this cheerful exhibition, one joined not--Mr. Cibber. His theories
had received a shock (and we all love our theories). He himself had
received a rap--and we don't hate ourselves.

Great is the syllogism! But there is a class of arguments less
vulnerable.

If A says to B, "You can't hit me, as I prove by this syllogism" (here
followeth the syllogism), "and B, _pour toute reponse,_ knocks A down