single iota from so much poetry of character. Rob Roy himself made a glorious appearance in his blazing tartans, eagle plume, target and broadsword; and nobody that saw him could question his right to levy" black mail". “black mail”—a single glance was sufficient to shew, that, in the opinion of such a personage as this which trod the stage before us,

"Rents and Factors, Rights of Chace,
Sheriffs, Lairds, and their domains,
All had seemed but paltry things,
Not worth a moment's pains."

Mr Murray (the manager) himself personated "the Saxon Captain," who is made prisoner by Roy's wife, in a style of perfect propriety, looking more like a soldier, and infinitely more like a gentleman, than almost any actor of the present day, that I have seen on either side of the Tweed. I admired particularly the strict attention which he had paid to his costume; for he made his appearance in a suit of uniform, which, I suppose, must have been shaped exactly after the pattern of the Duke of Cumberland's statue. The profuse flaps and skirts of the coat, and the smart, ferocious cock of the small hat, perched on the top of several rows of beautiful stiff curls,

carried one back at once to the heart of the days of Marlborough and Bickerstaff.

Perhaps the most purely delightful part of the whole play, was the opening of one of the acts, when I found myself suddenly transported into the glen of Aberfoil, and heard the pibroch of the Macgregors stealing along the light breeze of the morning, among those very shores which had been spread before my fancy in so many hues of Arcadian delight, by the novel itself, and the Lady of the Lake, its kindred predecessor. Already I feel that it is impossible I should leave Scotland without visiting, in good earnest, these romantic scenes. However, I must allow the season to be somewhat better advanced, ere I think of venturing upon that excursion. I am determined, indeed, to delay it as long as I can, in order that I may see it when adorned with its whole midsummer garniture of leaves.

Mr Murray acts as manager in behalf of Mrs Henry Siddons, whose husband had taken a long lease of the Theatre shortly before his death. I think you once told me that you had seen this charming actress play at Bath, therefore I need not say any thing about her style of perform

ance. She is, I believe, appreciated here as she ought to be; indeed, I know not that it is pos sible for any audience, wherever assembled, or however composed, to be insensible to the chaste and delicate fascination of that most feminine sort of acting. In looking at her, one feels that there would be a want of gallantry in not being delighted with so pure a picture of every thing that renders the captivation of womanly gracefulness complete. I speak at present, of course, of her most favourite walk. But you probably are well aware that Mrs Henry Siddons is scarcely less successful, when she goes down many steps in the scale of character. Nor do you need to be told, that, in the highest walk of the art itself, she displays not unfrequently a power, and energy, and dignity of feeling, which are. less talked of than they deserve to be, only because it is not possible to forget, when thinking of the daughter-in-law, the deeper and more majestic magic of the unrivalled mother.

The birth of Mrs Siddons and her brother, (for they are of an ancient Scottish family,) creates no nconsiderable feeling of interest in their favour, among this pedigree-revering people. The uniform propriety, and indeed amiable and exem

plary modesty of their own character and deportment, in all the relations of private life, may well furnish them with yet better claims to the kindness of their fellow-citizens.

P. M.

326

LETTER XXVII.

TO THE SAME.

*

I SHOULD be very much at a loss, if I were obliged to say positively, either at what hour or from what point of view, the external appearance of this city is productive of the noblest effect. I walk round and round it, and survey it from east, west, north, and south, and everywhere it assumes some new and glorious aspect, which delights me so much at the moment, that I am inclined to think I have at last hit upon the true station from whence to survey its beauties. A few steps bring me to some new eminence, from which some yet wider and more diversified picture of its magnificence opens itself to my eyes, or perhaps to some winding ravine, the dark and precipitous sides of which, while