ut which now rose in awful majesty before him,
amidst the spray and foam of the heaving surges, and seemed a sea-god's
throne! The sublimity and magnificence of the storm were now at their
height! On the summit of the conical rock, which was reddened by the
fierce blaze of the brilliant fires that incessantly played around it,
appeared a colossal figure, arrayed in white, whose long tresses and
flowing robes streamed with the wind. The figure pointed at the hopeless
Cedric with a deadly smile on his countenance. Cedric glared wildly at
the unearthly vision. The last whelming wave approached and buried him
for ever in the foaming sea.

The spectre mounted his car, attended by an innumerable host of
tributary spirits, and was borne on the whirlwind to visit other climes.
He was the Spirit of the Storm!

CYMBELINE.

* * * * *

SPIRIT OF THE PUBLIC JOURNALS.

RECOLLECTIONS OF AN OLD FAVOURITE.

"In his wine he would volunteer an imitation of somebody,
generally of Incledon. His imitation was vocal; I made
pretensions to the oratorical parts; and between us, we boasted,
that we made up the entire phenomenon."
LEIGH HUNT'S BYRON.

"Of Incledon? poor Charles Incledon!" said I, turning to his portrait in
the "Storm," hanging in goodly fellowship with a few of the idols of my
theatrical days, Siddons, Kemble, Bannister, Mrs. Jordan, and G. Cook,
in my little book-room--"Poor Charles Incledon! The mighty in genius,
the high in birth, the conceited in talent, have not forgotten thee,
then--and will even condescend to imitate thee, to imitate _thee_ who
wast _inimitable_!" I arose and walked about my little sanctum in
meditative mood. The days of old came o'er me--the benefit nights--the
play-bills, with the "Storm," "Black-eyed Susan," &c. in the largest
type, as forming the most attractive morceaux in the bill of fare. Then
followed the squeeze in June! through that horrid passage in the old
Covent Garden Theatre!--then the well-earned climax--Incledon in blue
jacket, white trousers, red waistcoat, smart hat and cane--the
representative of Britain's best defenders, in holiday
garb--unaccompanied by orchestra or instruments, depending upon naught
but "the human voice divine," after his usual walk before the lights,
and repeatedly licking his lips, (as if he thought that the sweet sounds
which were accustomed to flow from th