indispensably necessary to form a good actor: he ought to vary with his argument,` that is, carry the person in all his manners and qualities in every action and passion; he must be enabled to transform himself into every person he represents, since he is to act all sorts of actions and passions.

Sometimes he is a lover, and ought to know not only all the soft and tender addresses of such, but also what is proper to the character, that is in love, whether he be a prince, or a peasant, a hot and fiery man, or of more moderate and cool disposition.

Sometimes he is to represent a choleric, hot, or jealous man, and then, he ought to be thoroughly acquainted with all the passions, sentiments, and looks of the person in such circumstances; sometimes he is distracted, and here nature will tell him his action should be wild and irregular, that his eyes, his looks, or countenance, should never fall into an indifferent state of calmness or unconcern,

In the representation of Hamlet, Richard, Macbeth, Orestes, or Alexander, he ought to know well the character of all these heroes, the very same passions differing in them as

their characters differ; a patriot, a prince, a beggar, a clown, must each have their propriety and distinction in action, as well as words and language.

But to know the different compositions of the manners and the passions springing from those manners, he ought to have some knowledge of moral philosophy, for they produce various appearances in the looks and actions, according to their mixtures.

For that the very same passion has various appearances is plain, from historical painters, who have followed nature; the painters, indeed, have observed a propriety in their pieces which we should be happy to observe upon the stage; for there is never any character who has not a concern, a seeming interest in the action; but on the stage, we are often disgusted by observing some of the inferior actors, whispering to each other with as much indifference as if they had no right to feel any interest in the scene, though at that moment some necessary question of the play be then to be considered, "some powerful and affecting incident" that's villainous, such justly merit the execration, not only of the public, but also of the manager; we have

often had cause to lament that the best exertions of the principal actors have failed of that success which they laboured to obtain, solely by that want of attention and support which was required from all. Too many of those employed in the minor department of the stage, fancy their dignity hurt, their consequence lessened, by being called upon to represent, what they deem third, or fourth rate characters; they therefore take no pains to perfect themselves in the words of the author, but depend chiefly on the aid of the prompter, to the disgust of the audience, injurious to the interest of the theatre, and totally destroying the effect of the scene: an imperfect actor insults his hearers, betrays the trust reposed in him by the author, and proclaims his own demerits.

We are aware such observations are not applicable to a London stage, but they are truly so to the nursery; in that nursery, we well remember an actor, whose transcendent talent, whose excellence, will, we feel assured, never be forgotten by those who have seen, for to seew as but to admire him. This great man, for many months, acted the very inefficient

and subordinate characters of Harry Thunder in the comedy of "Wild Oats;" Captain Dudley in the "West Indian," and others equally insignificant, yet bestowed as much attention in the representation as he possibly could have done with Richard, Shylock, or lago, we mean the late inimitable and much lamented George Frederick Cooke;* as an

* "We knew him well, Horatio" " e'en when the high blood ran frolic through our veins, and boyhood made us sanguine." As seven cities contended for the honour of Homer's birth, so also have many places been selected and disputed which our friend was born in. We will endeavour to set the matter at rest; not alone from his own ipse dixit, but from more authentic information, from the lips of an ancient lady in the city of Dublin, the wife of a serjeant Graham, the identical soldier whom the reader may have seen in West's celebrated picture of the death of General Wolfe, standing in the fore-ground, with his hands clasped, the hair of his uncovered head blown by the wind. In the year 1806, we saw and conversed with this old man and his still older wife, in company with Cooke, over a glass of Peter Kearney's Inashone whiskey punch, when the old lady declared she well remembered his birth in the barracks of Dublin, some time in the year 1758, her husband then being absent with his regiment in America, she being left behind. as one of the barrack nurses: the father of Cooke was a non-commissioned officer in the 70th, generally designated at that time, the Black Cuffs, and was a native of Kelso, in Scotland, his mother was born in Drog

actor in some characters never surpassed, as a man, friendly and sincere, possessing a strong, clear, and lively imagination; his

héda, the daughter of a very respectable inn-keeper in that town, in whose house George's father chanced to be quartered. There a mutual attachment took place, and notwithstanding the opposition of her father, the indissoluble knot was tied by the chaplain of the regiment. "She packed up her tatters, and followed the drum." She was a woman of strong mind, with acquirements and education superior to her station in life, or generally falls to the lot of pretty bar-maids. Prior to her husband's regiment being ordered for foreign service, she found herself " as women wish to be, who love their lords," and in due time gave birth to our hero, and on that eventful night, the officers of the garrison acted "Richard the Third;" whether our hero caught the inspiration at that time we know not. In thirteen months, young George accompanied his parents to America, where his mother, when he was not four years of age, paid the debt of nature; and in the year 1762 his father returned to England, and entrusted George to the charge of his brother, at that time a printer in our good town of Berwick upon Tweed, where his kind uncle put him to school, and at a proper age, bound him an apprentice to himself, as a printer; he continued at his business with diligence and assiduity, until the unlucky arrival of some strolling players, this was the first time Master G. Cooke had ever witnessed a theatrical exhibition, it was we believe in 1773, and however humble have been the talents of the actors, yet still as often might as George could find the means or opportunity, thither he resorted; his youthful mind from that moment caught fire; the types, the composing stick, all, all