THINGS MUSICAL AND THEATRICAL. 467 



Magistrate. " Harkee, sirrah ; you pitiful ill- looking wretch ; what have 

 you to say why you should not be tucked up immediately, and sent a sun- 

 drying like a scarecrow ? Are you guilty or not guilty ?" 



Prisoner. " Not guilty, an't please your worship." 



Magistrate. " Not guilty ! say so again, and I'll have you h angedwith- 

 out any trial. Answer me, sirrah, how will you be tried ?" 



Prisoner. " By God and my country/' 



Magistrate. " The devil you will ! Why then I have nothing to do but 

 to proceed to judgment." 



Officer of the Court. ' ' Right, your worship, for if the fellow should be 

 suffered to speak he may clear himself, and that's an affront to your worship." 



Prisoner. " I hope your worship will consider " 



Magistrate. " Consider ! How dare you talk of considering, sirrah." 



Prisoner. " But I hope your worship will hear some reason." 



Magistrate. " I'd have you to know, rascal, I don't sit here to reason, I go 

 according to law. Is my dinner ready ?" 



Officer of the Court. " Yes, your worship." 



Magistrate. ' Then, harkee, you rascal at the bar, you must be hanged 

 because you have a hanging look; you must be hanged of course. That's the 

 law. Take him away, gaoler." 



THINGS MUSICAL AND THEATRICAL. 



The winter campaign is about to commence, it is said, with extra- 

 ordinary activity on the part of the belligerents. We hope the public 

 may not suffer in proportion. Mr. Bunn has threatened to take our 

 city by storm, by means of foreign auxiliaries and a judiciously 

 combined plan of attack : we wait the bombardment with impatience. 



Madame Vestris has issued her cards of invitation in the guise of 

 scarlet and green, whereon we recognise the names of many of our 

 favourites of last season. Among the stars of inferior magnitude are 

 names which have escaped our astronomical researches. We do not 

 doubt that they have twinkled very agreeably in their own spheres, 

 though it would have required the aid of a very powerful instrument 

 to discover them. , 



The proceedings of the summer theatres have hardly been worth 

 noticing. With the exception of a clever piece by Mr. Jerrold, "The 

 Housekeeper," and one by Mr. Searle, " the Yeoman's Daughter," 

 scarcely any thing beyond the rank of a farce has appeared. A 

 debutante has appeared, however, that claims our especial notice. 



Miss Eliza Paton is more deserving of encouragement than any 

 candidate for public favour that we have of late noticed. If she have 

 good sense, and is prepared to study hard, she will become eminent. 

 The curse of all our English singers is their self-conceit. The mo- 

 ment they make a successful appearance, they fancy themselves at the 

 summit of their art. They forget that nothing but the most intense 

 application can make such singers as Pasta and Malibran. 



Miss E. Paton's voice it a very rich and extensive soprano : but she 

 is evidently unable to manage it. When she endeavours to produce 

 effect, either on the lower notes, or on the higher, she is sure to fail, 

 merely from injudicious management. Singers who have not been 

 well instructed, fancy that the greater exertion they make on parti- 

 ticular points, the greater effect will be produced ; whereas, the very 



