sent remarked, that they really resembled diamonds. "Sir," said the actor, with much warmth, "I would have you to know, I never wore any thing but diamonds." "I ask your pardon," replied the gentleman; "I remember the time when you wore nothing but paste." This produced a loud laugh, which was heightened by Parsons jogging the ci-devant bill-sticker on the elbow, and dryly saying, "Jack, why don't you stick him against the wall?"

GRIMALDI'S GRANDFATHER.

THE grandfather of Grimaldi was a dancer of great celebrity on the French and Italian stages, and was generally called, for distinction, Iron legs, being considered the best jumper in the world. He once jumped so high, that he broke a chandelier; a piece of which hitting the Turkish Ambassador, who was in the stage-box, he considered it was a premeditated affront, and complained to the French Court of the outrage. But the most extraordinary circumstance concerning him, was his being put in prison for indecency on the stage, which is a circumstance (when we consider the license at that time used there) most extraordinary. The French were, for a time, infatuated with Gri

maldi, but, after this unlucky business,* he began to lose ground; and, at length, was obliged to stroll into Flanders, where, however, he proved a source of riches to his companions; for the Flemings, as he added legerdemain and other tricks to his jumping, thought him a supernatural being.

A laughable accident is related to have befallen him on his journey into Flanders. He and his troop were attacked, near Brussels, by a banditti; the baggage waggon was ransacked, their pockets turned inside out; and, according to their usual custom, the thieves were about to despatch their prey. It should be known, that Grimaldi, wanting money for his expedition, enticed one Flahaut, a bookseller, to follow his fortunes. Flahaut, having learnt Latin, took it into

* "I copy the following circumstance (says Mr. Dibdin, in his History of the Stage,) from a French author. Iron legs had, for a partner, either his wife, his sister, or his daughter; for so equivocal was the lady's character, that no one has been able to ascertain the precise degree of relationship. This nymph was thought to be his sister, or his daughter, for she was remarkably like him, being a squat, thick, strong figure and endowed with so much agility and strength, that she coul break chandeliers almost as well as himself. She cohabited with him as his wife."

his head, that it would be a good thing to introduce the ancient chorus on the stage, by way of explaining Grimaldi's dances. Grimaldi appeared to approve of the scheme; but told him, as it was a kind of improvement that could only be brought about by degrees, he had better learn to dance first, which would make him immediately useful. Flahaut set to work, and Grimaldi promised to make him a capital dancer. In the end, he got as much money together as he could; left his family; and, as before said, followed Grimaldi. When the sabres of the banditti were drawn to despatch the troop of dancers, Grimaldi, who, at the danger of his life, would have his joke, whispered Flahaut to talk Latin to them. The enthusiast, Flahaut, began; and, for a few seconds, the sabres were suspended. Presently loudly vociferating dixi, one of them, aiming a blow at his head, cried feci; which blow, had it struck him, must have silenced the orator for ever.

But the most extraordinary part of the adventure remains to be told. Grimaldi's partner, the lady before mentioned, in all the furor of romantic heroism, just as the word despatch had been uttered, stepped forward, and, in a scream of des

VOL. II.

E

pair, implored the banditti to have mercy on her comrades; offering, that if they would be merciful, she would yield herself up a sacrifice, and devote herself to their pleasure. She described how many ways she would be useful to them, that she could dance to amuse them; she could cook for them; and, to be brief, intimated, in the language, of Deborah Woodcock, “that she had no objection to any work they could put her to." In short, the thieves were appeased, and carried off the lady in triumph, but not till they had stripped the whole troop stark naked; leaving them nothing but the refuse of what they had pillaged from the baggage waggon, consisting of a few odds and ends of pantomime dresses. Grimaldi put on an old Harlequin's jacket; poor Flahaut contented himself with the trowsers of Scaramouch; and, in this agreeable plight, they begged their way to Brussels.

BETTERTON'S DEATH

WAS caused by want of caution, in a violent fit of the gout. His activity kept off the disease longer than usual; but the fit soon returned upon him with greater violence, and it was the more unfortunate, as it was at the time of his benefit.

The play he had fixed upon was "The Maid's Tragedy," in which he was to enact the part of Melanthes; and notice was given thereof by his friend, Sir Richard Steele, in the " Tatler;" but, the fit intervening, that he might not disappoint the town, he was obliged to submit to external applications, in order to reduce the swelling in his feet, which enabled him to appear on the stage, though he was obliged to use a slipper. He was observed, on that day, to have a more than ordinary spirit, and met with suitable applause; but the unhappy consequence of tampering with his distemper was, that it flew into his head, and killed him.

Mr. Booth, who knew him only in his decline, used to say, that he never saw him, off or on the stage, without learning something from him; and frequently observed, that Betterton was no actor; that he put on his part with his clothes, and was the very man he undertook to be, till the play was over, and nothing more. So exact was he in following nature, that the look of surprise which he assumed in the character of Hamlet, astonished Booth, when he first personated the Ghost, to such a degree, that he was