ners, and chiefly English.

The next day we went to old Drury, where we found a countryman, and
townsman, Mr. Stephen Price, in the chair of Sheridan. The season was
over, but we were shown the whole of the interior. It is also a
magnificent structure in extent and internal embellishment, though a
very plain brick pile externally. It must have eight or ten times the
cubic contents of the largest American theatre. The rival building,
Covent Garden, is within a few hundred feet of it, and has much more of
architectural pretension, though neither can lay claim to much. The
taste of the latter is very well, but it is built of that penny-saving
material, stuccoed bricks.

We dined with Mr. Price, and on the table was some of our own
justly-celebrated Madeira. L----, who is an oracle on these subjects,
pronounced it injured. He was told it was so lately arrived from New York,
that there had not been time to affect it. This fact, coupled with others
that have since come to my knowledge, induce me to believe that the change
of tastes, which is so often remarked in liquors, fruits, and other
eatables, is as much wrought on ourselves, as in the much-abused viands.
Those delicate organs which are necessary to this particular sense may
readily undergo modifications by the varieties of temperature. We know
that taste and its sister sense, smelling, are both temporarily destroyed
by colds. The voice is signally affected by temperature. In cold climates
it is clear and soft; in warm, harsh and deep. All these facts would serve
to sustain the probability of the theory that a large portion of the
strictures that are lavished on the products of different countries,
should be lavished on our own capricious organs. _Au reste_, the
consequence is much the same, let the cause be what it will.

Mr. M----, an Englishman, who has many business concerns with America,
came in while we were still at table, and I quitted the house in his
company. It was still broad daylight. As we were walking together, arm and
arm, my companion suddenly placed a hand behind him, and said, "My fine
fellow, you are there, are you?" A lad of about seventeen had a hand in
one of his pockets, feeling for his handkerchief. The case was perfectly
clear, for Mr. M---- had him still in his gripe when I saw them. Instead
of showing apprehension or shame, the fellow began to bluster and
threaten. My companion, after a word or two of advice, hurried me from the
spot. On exp