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THE "Little Theatre in the Haymarket" has long been attractive to the loyers of the drama, who, while they had to lament its degradation on every other stage, found it hold its legitimate sway here. Even when the Haymarket Theatre, compared with its rivals in splendour and convenience, was a mere barn, it obtained audiences by the judicious manner in which it was conducted. Here were no pantomimes, melo-dramas, or spectacles, in which horses were the principal attraction; but there was legitimate tragedy, comedy, and farce, and a species of play peculiar to this theatre-three-act comedies which combined the merits of comedy and farce.

The Haymarket Theatre was originally erected on the sole speculation of a carpenter or builder of the name of VOL. 1.

Potter, in 1720; who, being without patent or licence, opened with a company of young amateur performers, who had acted with some applause at a tavern in St. Alban's-street. Potter's object, however, was to let the house to the "French players," as the Parisian dancers and Italian singers were then called. The opening of the House was thus announced in a daily paper of the 15th of December, 1720:

"At the New Theatre in the Haymarket (between Little Suffolk street and James-street), which is now com. pletely finished, will be acted French comedies, as soon as the rest of the actors arrive from Paris, who are daily expected."

The House opened on the 29th of December, 1720. with a new comedy, entitled, La Fille à la mode; ou, le

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Badeaut de Paris." The pit and boxes were the same price, and the tickets five shillings. It was not until three years afterwards that the House was occupied by an English company.

In 1726, a company of Italian comedians commenced performing by subscription, who, as the season advanced, had the accession of Signora Violante, with rope-dancers and tumblers. The popularity of the latter entertainment is shown in the following verses from a "Raree Show" ballad, introduced in the Rape of Proserpine:

"Here be de Haymarket vere de Italien
Opera sweetly sound.

Dat costa de brave gentry no more as
Two hundred tousand pound;
A very pretty fancy, a brave gallante
show,

E juste come from France tout noveau.
"Here be de famous comediens of the
world,

De troupe Italien,

the actors cannot be seen and heard distinctly. To facilitate the latter a sounding-board was constructed, which projected over the orchestra, and disfigured that part of the house; but it has since been removed.

On the ceiling is an allegorical representation of Morning attended by Zephyr, appearing in the horizon; while in the opposite quarter Cynthia is seen retiring from the presence of Apollo. The ornaments which encircle the design are composed of four groups of Cupids, bearing emblematical trophies of the different seasons. On the proscenium are various figures and embellishments, correspondent with those upon the ceiling.

the left hand of the audience, the enThe new drop-scene represents, on trance of a temple of the Composite relievos, and dedicated to Apollo. The Order, richly ornamented with basso statues of Thalia and Melpomene surmount the principal entrance. On the right hand is an altar dedicated to Beauty, and flowers and various ornaments, allusive to the costumes of the Bacchantes, are introduced. The era of the new building, as well as of the new reign, are alluded to by the temShe jump upon de rope ten stories high, ple of the muses, illuminated by the

Dat make a de poor English veepe,
Because de vill troupe home again.
A very,
&c.

"De toder place be Mademoiselle
Violante

Shew a tousand trick;

And never break her neck.

A very," &c.

The theatre afterwards was open for the English drama, and here Joe Miller and other revolters from Drurylane Theatre performed in 1733. It was, however, frequently occupied by French comedians, and by exhibitions of various kinds, including Foote's Matthews's-like entertainments.

For many years, however, the Haymarket has been confined to the legitimate drama, and to parody a line of Shakspeare's, it has not only exhibited a fine display of histrionic talent in itself, but been the cause of it in others, having been the nursery of talent, and introduced to the public many of our best performers, including Mathews, Young, and Liston,

In 1821, the old theatre was pulled down, and the present elegant structure erected, of which our engraving presents a correct view. This theatre, which was built with singular rapidity, is of a very convenient size, quite large enough for representing any regular play, and not so large as to prevent your seeing or hearing it. It is certainly larger than the old theatre, but there is scarcely a seat in the whole house, boxes, pit, or gallery, where

rising sun.

In point of architectural beauty, the Haymarket Theatre is the most elegant in London; and indeed that is not saying much in its favour, for they are very clumsy buildings: it has, however, a particular degree of neatness about it that renders it an elegant termination to Charles-street, Saint James's-square, which it immediately faces; and it is one of the very few public buildings in London of which an Englishman in London need not feel ashamed.

ST. VALENTINE'S DAY.

FEBRUARY THE 14TH. As this eventful period for all young lovers will be passed before our next Mirror can well appear, we shall give our readers an interesting account of Valentine's Day.

St. Valentine was a Presbyter of the Church, who was beheaded in the time of Claudius the Emperor, but there is no occurrence in the legendary life of this Saint, in the slightest degree connected with the customs which have long been observed on this day; though Wheatley, in his illustrations of the Common Prayer, informs us, that he 66 was a man of most admirable parts,

and so famous for his love and charity, that the custom of choosing valentines uponhis festival (which is still practised) took its rise from thence."

It is a very general custom of doubtful origin, but of great antiquity, for young people to draw lots on the eve of Valentine's Day: the names of a select number of one sex are, by an equal number of the other, put into some vessel, out of which each person draws one, which is called their valentine, and is looked upon as a good omen of their being man and wife afterwards.

This custom of choosing valentines was a sport practised in the houses of the gentry of England, as early as the year 1476; and John Lydgate, the Monk, of Bury, alludes to it in a poem written by him in praise of Queen Catherine.

In Dudley Lord North's Forest of Varieties, in a letter to his brother, he says, ،، A lady of wit and qualitie, whom you well know, would never put herself to the chance of a valentine, saying that she would never couple herself but by choyce. The custom and charge of valentines is not ill left with many other such costly and idle customs, which, by a tacit general consent, we lay down as obsolete."

The "charge" and "costly custom" here mentioned, most probably refers to the making of presents on this day, which the learned Morison tells us was frequent.

The custom of drawing for valentines is still observed in the northern counties of England, where also the first woman seen by a man, or man seen by a woman, on St. Valentine's day, is marked for their valentine for the ensuing year.

The rural tradition that, on this day, every bird chooses its mate, is alluded to by Chaucer and numerous other writers.

Shakspeare, in his Midsummer Night's

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But the prettiest allusion to this tradition, is in the following elegant jeu d'esprit :

TO DORINDA, ON VALENTINE'S DAY.

"Look how, my dear, the feather'd
kind,

By mutual caresses joyn'd,
Bill, and seem to teach us two,
What we to love and custom owe.
Shall only you and I forbear
To meet and make a happy pair?
Shall we alone delay to live!
This day an age of bliss may give.
But ah! when I the proffer make,
Still coyly you refuse to take;
My heart I dedicate in vain,
The too mean present you disdain.
Yet since the solemn time allows
To choose the object of our vows,
Boldly I dare profess my flame,
Proud to be yours by any name."

Misson, in his Travels in England, says:

"On the Eve of the 14th of February,St. Valentine's Day, a time when all living nature inclines to couple, the young folks, in England and Scotland too, by a very ancient custom, celebrate a little festival that tends to the same end. An equal number of maids and batchelors get together, each writes their true or some feigned name upon separate billets, which they roll up, and draw by way of lots, the maids taking the men's billets, and the men the maids; so that each of the young men lights upon a girl that he calls his valentine, and each of the giris upon a young man which she calls her's. By this means, each has two valentines; but the man sticks faster to the valentine that is fallen to him, than to the valentine to whom he is fallen."

There is another kind of valentine, which is the first young man or woman that chance throws in your way in the street, or elsewhere, on that day.

Gay has left us a poetical description' of some rural ceremonies used on the morning of this day in his time: "Last Valentine, the day when birds

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And in the Connoisseur, we have the following account of a curious species of divination practised on St. Valentine's day::

"The customs of St, Valentine's day, seem at present confined to that of young people sending complimentary or satirical letters to their acquaintance, sometimes accompanied with a caricature engraving; and to such an extent is this custom carried, that in London alone, the increase of two-penny post letters on St. Valentine's day, in 1821, exceeded two hundred thousand."

We shall conclude the subject with the following poetical article sent us by a correspondent:

MY VALENTINE.

Mark'd you her eyes' resistless glance
That does th' enraptur'd soul entrance?
Mark'd you that dark blue orb unfold
Volumes of bliss as yet untold?
And felt you not as I now feel,
Delight no tongue could e'er reveal?
Mark'd you her cheek that blooms and
glows

A living emblem of the rose?
Mark'd you her vernal lip that breathes
The balmy fragrance of its leaves?
And felt you not as I now feel,
Delight no tongue could e'er reveal?
Mark'd you her artless smiles that speak
The language, written on her cheek?
Where bright as morn and pure as dew
The bosom's thoughts arise to view?
And felt you not as I now feel,
Delight no tongue could e'er reveal?
Mark'd you her face, and did not there
Sense, softness, sweetness-all ap-
pear?

you

Mark'd you her form, and saw not
A heart and mind as lovely too?
And felt you not as I now feel,
Delight no tongue could e'er reveal?
Mark'd you all this-and you have
known

The treasur'd raptures that I own.
Mark'd you all this, and you, like me,
Have wandered oft, her shade to see,
For you have felt, as I now feel,
Delight no tongue could e'er reveal.

THE HUNTER'S SOLILOQUY.

A PARODY.

To hunt, or not to hunt? that is the question

Whether 'tis prudent in the soul, to suffer

The pangs of self-denial, or to urge With enthus'astick rage and bold defiance

The rapid chase?-To hunt-to ride

No more; and by that ride to say we fly

From thought, that canker-worm to gay desires,

From cares that feed upon the lamp of life,

'Tis a fruition devoutly to be wished. To hunt-to ride-to ride? perchance to fall;

Ay, there's the rub

For in the mad pursuit what falls may come,

When ev'ry hound each hardy sinew strains,

And ev'ry breeze conveys enrapt'ring sounds,

Must give us pause ?-There's the respect,

That gives the fatal blow to promis'd joys,

That taints with baleful light each blooming hope.

Who would forego this madness of delight;

Who without pain could hear a chase describ'd,

Or silent sit while others boast their feats,

When he himself might mount the neighing steed,

And urge the sprightly chase? Beneath a roof

Who would wear out the tedious, doleful day,

Oppress'd with discontent and dire remorse?

But that the dread of fall precipitate, That unknown field, where, destitute of aid,

With shiver'd limb he haply may repent

His forward zeal and fury uncontroul'd

Puzzles the will; and makes us rather

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or divide, is, I believe, erroneous; for in Stow's History of London, we find on the present site of that place, there was formerly a village called Charing, and in all probability a Cross was erected there, in memory of its being a resting place for the funeral procession of Edward the First's Queen, on the road to the place of her interment, that has been destroyed by time. There are still some of these Crosses (generally called Queen's Crosses) remaining in different parts of the country, and there is a particularly fine one near Northampton. Should this short description prove correct, it is evident that Charing Cross still retains its original name.

Yours, &c.

CHEAP TIMES.

W.

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To the Editor of the Mirror. SIR-Accounts from time to time are admitted into the periodical publications of the day, containing statements of the cheapness of "the olden time,' but it is for the present century to surpass all that have preceded it. In this respect the Mirror of Literature is "the landmark of its time:" and through its medium I beg leave to communicate the particulars of the following notable wager: A gentleman betted fifty guineas, that without any previous concert, he would be conveyed 200 miles, eat and drink on the road, sup and sleep at a good hotel, all for less than 1. sterling; which was accomplished thus: Fare from London to Birs. d. mingham, through Henley, Oxford, Banbury, &c. 127 miles

03

10 6

Breakfast, a roll and milk and

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Bed and chambermaid

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Fare to Sheffield, 73 miles
Eating as in the former day

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0 198 Now, Sir, if this be the year of distress, let the grumblers paint an inch thick, "to this complexion we are come at last." Your constant Reader, CAP SMITH.

All the subscribers to our Hunt take in the Mirror; indeed we could not have existed without it this hard weather.

Melton Mowbray, 16th Jan. 1823.

A PUNNING EPISTLE. The following Punning Epistle was sent with a present of a hare-not to the Editor.

Dear Sir,-A perfect stranger to me dropt in here this morning, and I find they are to the taste of some people, on inquiry into his merits, that though he will be to me a mere burden, therefore I send him to you in a fable written about him, for he has been celebrated both in prose and verse. I learn that he has, like myself, had many friends, and that they have, as we say, worried him to death. You may do what you please with him, he'll bear roasting, and you may even cut and baste him, without exciting the least ill-humour on his part. Although he never owed any person a shilling, yet no one that I know has been so hunted by mankind, which, though game to the back bone, used to alarm him exceedingly; but he has conquered that weakness and timidity, and is now perfectly indifferent about it; as a proof how much stouter his nerves are at present, you may attack him, stab him, take his coat off his back, and sell it before his face, without stirring in him the feeling of fear, either for his property or himself. I fancy such a poor creature will get completely dished at your house, still he is not, whatever you may imagine, without brains; and this I will say, that the more you can get of them, the more you will resemble me. is, indeed, a hare-brained fellow, yet you may keep his company some time before you will perceive him to be lively; but I believe you will like him better in his present quiet state, for to tell you the truth, when he does get a maggot in his head, he is to my way of thinking very offensive. His ears two are certainly long, but you may say what you like before him, for he was never known to blab half so much as those who have shorter. I beg that you will, when he is well-dressed, introduce him to the most familiar acquaintance of Mrs. ***. and merely a few select friends, for being of tender years, he is not capable of affording much entertainment to a large company: the maxim is "the more the merrier, the less the better cheer." He only sticks to the latter part. and it will be better for perfect child in one respect. you if you also attend to it. He is a I am ashamed to mention it, but he is particularly agreeable where there is plenty of currant jelly. I will not, however, pretend to dictate the measure of civility which your amiable disposition and

He

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