knives, and saws, and articles which I cannot give a name to-to say nothing of the awful smell.

Well, they kept their word, and left me in a stair leading from the South Bridge to the Cowgate, and I soon found my way home. It was now four on a

Sabbath morning, and I found my brother, who was wondering what could have come over me, and not a little surprised to see me with a superfine new great coat, and a broken head stuck over with diachylum plaster. And so I had to please him with a story made up for the occasion, and I never heard more of it. However, the affair was not lost upon me (and I hope it will not on you and your readers)—and so, soon after, I married Mrs. G. and took myself up, and have since thriven very well in the world.

My Doctor friend (for I made out his name, though I said nothing about it) is dead, and has been for some years.

So, Sir, as there is now no occasion for me to hold my tongue about the matter at all, I have even stated the case of my escape from the fangs of these harpies, hoping that it may prove a useful warning to the unwary, and put people on their guard against wandering about at untimeous hours, lest they also meet with a similar or worse adventure, as they will see is but too common now-a-days.

Your obedient servant,

MOSES KEAN.

M. G.

THE late Moses Kean was a tailor, a stout-built man, with black bushy hair and a wooden leg. He always dressed in a dashing manner, in a scarlet coat, white satin waistcoat, black satin smallclothes, and a Scot's liquid-dye blue silk stocking. He had also a longquartered shoe, with a large buckle covering his foota cocked hat, and a ruffled shirt; and he never went out without a switch or a cane in his hand. He was a very extraordinary mimic, particularly in imitations of Charles James Fox, which he gave occasionally at the little theatre in the Haymarket. Mr. Edmund Kean, the celebrated actor, owes his education to the above person, who was his uncle.---Nollekens.

ADDRESS BY MRS. H. SIDDONS,

On the re-opening of the Theatre-Royal, Edinburgh. MRS. H. SIDDONS-(speaking behind the scenes) Don't talk to me, I tell ye it's a shame,

And all before the curtain say the same.-(Entering)
I enter, certainly, in strange confusion,
But hope you'll pardon my abrupt intrusion,
When I confess my present situation

Is one so full of pain and irritation,

That, no more able my complaints to smother,
At your tribunal I impeach my brother-(applause)
Of misdemeanors, without stint or measure-
Of disobedience to my royal pleasure;

For, say whate'er I will, his pompous frown,
And plump negatur, knock my project down,
Till my whole reign's one scene of fret and worry,
Like poor Queen Mary and her Regent Murray.-(loud
cheering and laughter).

To-night, my wish to speak to you was met
By the old answer, ""Tisn't etiquette."

But I'm determined; and now ask the reason,
If, with a speech, my brother ends the season!
Why I, when here beginning one anew,
May not indulge in speechifying too?-(applause)
'Tis hard enough resigning the last word,
But more to humour him is quite absurd.
He, with a bow, may see you out, and then

I will, with curtseys, welcome you again.-(applause)
Which is the most judicious system-tell?—
His most respectfully bidding you farewell,
Or the new practice I to-night begin,

Of, as respectfully, bidding you come in?-(cheers)
At least I'll try't; when all's done and past,

I can't make this year worse than he the last.
Indeed, I'm somewhat tired of the elf,
And think of looking into things myself;
For tho' reluctant to speak ill, I own,

Of "Regent Murray"-(cheers)--he mistakes the town.
As-don't be angry, now---but, entre nous,
'Tis not so much what's good as what is new
Oft brings you here, and, truly, 'tis a bore
For ever hearing what you've heard before;

To see the bills present you nothing daily,
But the old names, Jones, Denham, and the Bailey.—
(Applause)

At night, compelled to stay at home, or go
And see "Rob Roy," "Guy Mannering," and "No"-
Paul Pry's intrusions, or Pong Wong's grimaces
Pritchard's deep agonies, or Mason's faces.---(laughter)
Then, tho' from Indus to the Pole we rove,

'Tis all "Sweet Home," "Young Love," or "Kelvin Grove."

Nay, I expect some night the Thane of Cawdor
Will introduce "Blue Bonnets o'er the Border."
Nor should I wonder, Hotspur taught his starling
To tell King Henry "Charlie was his darling."---
(Laughter)

"Toujours perdrix" wo'n't do, that's very clear,
So, Call-boy!---(enter Call-boy)---send Mr. Murray here!
(Exit Call-boy)
And on the instant, friends, let's try now whether
We can't reform this system altogether.

Enter Mr. MURRAY---(increased applause).

Come hither, manager---(Mr. M. bows respectfully)--some hold opinion

You've lately failed in talents for dominion;
So now, to skill and character depone,
Or else " Othello's occupation's gone;"

For, if convicted here, beyond all doubt,

I take the reins myself, and walk you out!--- (Suiting the action to the word).

Mr. MURRAY.

Sister, I needs must think some better way.
Mrs. H. SIDDONS.

I care not, William, what you think or say---
Answer this question, did last season pay?
No.---Then, as like kings, the public do no wrong,
To managers, like ministers, belong

All faults and failures; but I'll talk no more,

There are your judges, as I said before;

(To the audience)---To your decision I refer his cause, Guilty, a hiss---not guilty---then, applause.

(Rapturous approbation) Mr. MURRAY---(to the audience---advancing)

Soft you, a word or two, before I

go,

"I've done the state some service," perhaps you know.

No more of that; I pray you, in your letters,
Stating these deeds unlucky to my betters.
Speak of me as I am, extenuate naught,
Nor in malicious language set down aught---
Then must you speak of one, who, truth to tell,
Managed not wisely, but intended well;
Who owns, a lady's anger to appease,

He failed in judgment, not in wish to please;
Set you down this, and set you down besides,
He bends at once to what your voice decides---
If murmurs follow me, I'm lost of men,
But, if applause, "Richard's himself again."

Nem. con. 'tis carried, then I reinstate him,
And generalissimo anew create him,

My hand shall sign, 'tis yours must set the seal---
A kindness which, I trust, he'll ever feel;
And, like myself, for ever keep in view---
He owes his all---to you---and you---and you.

(Waving of hats, and long-continued applause.)

This address, or rather dramatic scene, is imputed to a great well-known author. If it was intended to draw forth the opinion of the public in regard to the general management, the result, as has been seen, was most flattering to Mrs. Siddons and her brother. We forgot, in the proper place, to say that the season opened under the best auspices. A fashionable company had assembled before the curtain rose; and after second price, almost every part of the house was crowded.

THE FOUNDLING OF NUREMBERG.

(From the Austrian Observer of November 20.) IN the month of May, 1828, there appeared in the streets of Nuremberg a youth apparently between 17 and 18 years of age, in the dress of a peasant, and holding in his hand a letter, addressed to a captain of cavalry resident in that city. The letter, which was without signature, stated that the young man was desirous of enlisting in the cavalry, as his deceased father had served in that corps; that the writer of the letter was a poor day-labourer, with ten children; and that he had received the lad, when a little child, from a nurse, whom he did not know, to bring him up secretly. The letter also contained several palpable untruths, and among the rest asserted that the boy could read and write. The captain of cavalry declared that he would have nothing to do with the business, and sent the young man as a vagrant to the guardhouse. He was afterwards carried before the officers of police, who looked upon him as an impostor. It was soon ascertained, however, that he could scarcely speak a word; that he had been totally neglected, and had received no education whatever.

An official notification was then published, requiring all persons who might be able to give any information respecting this mysterious case, to communicate what they knew. About four months after, an old woman, said to have come from the neighbourhood of Nuremberg, and supposed to be a midwife, waited on the Burgomaster, and made a communication to him under the pledge of secresy. The youth has since been treated with great attention. Several teachers were immediately engaged for him, and as he is not deficient in capacity, they soon taught him to converse and read, and thus enabled him to give some information respecting his former fate.

His whole life, as far as he could recollect it, had been spent in a small obscure dungeon, faintly lighted from above. He slept on straw, and was fed with bread and water, which used to be brought to him at night by a man; and as he was often asleep when it was brought, several weeks often passed over without