if any wrong or iniury be offered vnto him or any of them Provided that he and they doe not act any thing offensiue against ye lawes of God or of the Land, and that he & they doe make shew of the said Noah's flood at lawfull times wth Exception of the Lords Day or any other Day in the time of Devine Service, or on any other day prohibited by Proclamation or other lawfull Authority. And this Licence to continue for a year and noe longre from the day of the date hearof and to Serue throughout the Kingdome of England Scotland & Ireland & all other his Maties. Territories & Dominions the said Geo. Bayly haueing giuen me security for his good behauiour that hee doe not intrench vpon the lawes of the land. Giuen at his Maties. Office of the Revills vnder my hand & Seale of the said Office the fowerteenth day of Aprill one thousand six hundred sixty and two & in the fowerteenth year of the raigne of o'r Soueraigne Lord Charles ye Second by the grace of God of England Scotland france and Ireland King Defender of the faith &c. J. POYNTZ.

A marginal memorandum, below the seal, contains a direction to the persons named in this license, thus :—

"You are to allow him either Town hall Guild hall Schoole house or some other convenient place for his use & to continue in any one place for ye space of fforty Daies."

The above transcript is literal in every respect and trusting that it may be deemed worthy insertion,

I am, Sir, &c.

WILL O' THE WHISP.

a festival, enlivened by a round of innocent amusements, which the present enlightened age has pronounced superstitious or trifling. Formerly we had a theatre, at this season, and perhaps a few particulars relating to it may not be uninteresting.

Gentle reader! should you ever visit Skipton-in-Craven, go on the market-day, and stand opposite to the vicarage-house in the High-street; there you will see a cart with this inscription, "Thomas Airay, Grassington and Skipton carrier." Keep your eye on that cart, and about the hour of three in the afternoon you will behold approach the owner, a little, fat, old man, with reddish whiskers and a jolly face, that Liston or John Reeve would not be ashamed to possess. In that countenance a mere tyro in physiognomy may discover a roguish slyness, a latent archness, a hidden mine of fun and good humour. Then when Airay walks, mark his stately gait, and tell me if it does not proclaim that he has worn the sock and buskin, and trod the Thespian floor: he was the manager of the Grassington theatre-the "Delawang" of Craven.

cold glance on poor Tom, and saying to I fancy some rigid moralist bestowing a himself,

Ah, old man, this comes of acting; had you, in your youth, followed some industrious pursuit, nor joined ar being a country carrier, you might have idle strolling company, instead of now been blessed with a comfortable independence!" Think not so harshly of Airay; though not the manager of a patent theatre, nor of one "by royal authority," he never was a stroller, nor an associate with vagabonds, nor did he ever, during his theatrical career, quake under the terrors of magisterial harshness, or fear the vagrant act.

No idle, worthless, wandering man was he,

But in the dales, of honest parents bred,
Train'd to a life of honest industry,

He with the lark in summer left his bed,
Thro' the sweet calm, by morning twilight shed,
Walking to labour by that cheerful song,

And, making a pure pleasure of a tread,

When winter came with nights so dark and long, 'Twas his, with mimic art, to amuse a village throng!

Tom Airay's sole theatre was at Grassington; and that was only " open for the season"-for a few weeks in the depth of winter, when the inclemency of the weather, which in these mountainous parts is very severe, rendered the agricultural occupations of himself and companions impossible to be pursued. They chose rather to earn a scanty pittance by acting, than to trouble their neighbours for eleemosynary support.

The corps dramatique of Tom Airay consisted chiefly of young men, (they had no actresses,) who moved in the same line of life as the manager, and whose characters were equally respectable with his, which was always unassailable; for, setting aside our hero's occasionally getting tipsy at some of the neighbouring feasts, nothing can be said against him. He is a worthy member of society, has brought up a large family respectably, and, if report speak truth, has realized about a thousand pounds.

Few of Tom Airay's company are living, and the names of many have escaped me. There was honest Peter W, whose face peeped from behind the green curtain like the full moon. He was accounted a bit of a wag ever foremost in mischief, he, more than once, almost blew up the stage by gunpowder, half suffocated the audience by assafoetida, and was wont to put hot cinders in the boots of his associates. He has" left the mimic scene to die indeed," and sleeps peacefully under the beautiful lime-trees of Kirby Malhamdale churchyard, undisturbed by the murmur of that mountain stream, which, rippling over its pebbly channel, hymns, as it were, his requiem. Then there was Isaac G——, the fiddler and comic singer : he exists no longer. There was Waddilove, and Frankland of Hetton, and Bill Cliff, the Skipton poet and bailiff-all dead! There were, also, the Hetheringtons, and Jack Solomon the besom maker, and Tommy Summersgill the barber and clock maker, and Jack L—— the politician of Threshfield, who regarded John Wilkes as his tutelary saint, and settled in the Illinois, from whence he occasionally sends a letter to his old friends, informing them what a paltry country England is, what a paradise the new world is, and how superior the American rivers are to those

"That through our vallies run
Singing and dancing in the gleams
Of summer's cloudless sun."

Besides these, there were fifteen or sixteen others from Arncliffe, Litton, Coniston, Kilnsay, and the other romantic villages that enliven our heath-clad hills.

The "Grassington theatre," or rather playhouse," for it never received a loftier appellation, where (to borrow the phraseology of the Coburg) our worthies received their "nightly acclamations of applause," has been pulled down, but I will endeavour to describe it. It was an old limestone "lathe," the Craven word for barn,with huge foldingdoors, one containing a smaller one, through which the audience was admitted to the pit

and gallery, for there were no boxes. Yet on particular occasions, such as when the duke of Devonshire or earl of Thanet goodnaturedly deigned to patronise the performances, a "box" was fitted up, by railing off a part of the pit, and covering it, by way of distinction, with brown paper, painted to represent drapery. The prices were, pit sixpence, and gallery threepence. I believe they had no half price. The stage was lighted by five or six halfpenny candles, and the decorations, considering the poverty of the company, were tolerable. The scenery was respectable; and though sometimes, by sad mishap, the sun or moon would take fire, and expose the tallow candle behind it, was very well managedfrequently better than at houses of loftier pretension. The dresses, as far as material went, were good; though not always in character. An outlaw of the forest of Arden sometimes appeared in the guise of a Craven waggoner, and the holy friar, "whose vesper bell is the bowl, ding dong," would wear a bob wig, cocked hat, and the surplice of a modern church dignitary. These slight discrepancies passed unregarded by the audience; the majority did not observe them, and the few who did were silent; there were no prying editors to criticise and report. The audience was always numerous, (no empty benches there) and respectable people often formed a portion. I have known the village lawyer, the parson of the parish, and the doctor comfortably seated together, laughing heartily at Tom Airay strutting as Lady Randolph, his huge Yorkshire clogs peeping from beneath a gown too short to conceal his corduroy breeches, and murdering his words in a manner that might have provoked Fenning and Bailey from their graves, to break the manager's head with their weighty publications. All the actors had a bad pronunciation. Cicero was called Kikkero, (which, by the by, is probably the correct one;) Africa was called Afryka, fatigued was fattygewed, and pageantry was always called puggyantry. Well do I remember Airay exclaiming, "What pump, what paggyantry is there here!" and, on another occasion, saying, " Ye damons o' deeth come sattle my swurd!" The company would have spoken better, had they not, on meeting with a “dictionary word," applied for information to an old schoolmaster, who con stantly misled them, and taught them to pronounce in the most barbarous mode he could devise; yet such was the awe wherewith they were accustomed to regard this dogmatical personage, and the profound

respect they paid to his abilities, that they received his deceiving tricks with thankful ness. One of them is too good to be omitted: Airay, in some play or farce, happened to meet with this stage direction, 'they sit down and play a game at piquet;" the manager did not understand the term piquet," and the whole of the corps dramatique were equally ignorant-as a dernier ressort, application was made to their old friend, the knight of the birch, who instructed them that" piquet" was the French word for pie-cut, and what they had to do was to make a large pie, and sit round a table and eat it; and this, on the performance of the piece, they actually did, to the great amusement of the few who were acquainted with the joke. When Tom was informed of the trick, he wittily denominated it a substantial one.

The plays usually performed at Grassington were of the regular drama, the productions of Shakspeare, Dryden, Otway, or Lillo. George Barnwell has many a time caused the Craven maids to forget "Turpin," and "Nevison," and bloody squires, and weep at the shocking catastrophe of the grocer's apprentice. Melodramas were unknown to them, and happy had it been for the dramatic talent of this country if they had remained unknown elsewhere; for since these innovations, mastiff dogs, monkeys, and polichinellos have followed in rapid succession, and what monstrum horrendum will next be introduced, is difficult to conceive. We may say,

"Alas, for the drama, its day has gone by."

At the time of Airay's glory, had the word melodrama been whispered in his ear, he would probably have inquired what sort of a beast it was, what country it came from, and whether one was in the tower?Grassington being too poor to support a printer, the play-bills were written, and by way of making the performances better known, the parish bellman was daily employed to cry the play in a couplet composed by the manager. I only remember

one.

Guy in his youth, our play we call,

At six to the hay-mow hie ye all!

This not only apprized the inhabitants of the play for the evening, but frequently the novelty of the mode induced a passing stranger to honour the house with his pre

• In Craven, the hay is not stacked as in the south, but housed in barns, which from this custom are called hay-mows.

sence. It was also preferable to printing, for that was an expense the proceeds of the house could not afford.

While thus hastily sketching the peculiarities of Airay and his associates, it would be unjust not to state in conclusion, that their performances were always of a moral character; if any indelicate sentiment or expression occurred in their plays, it was omitted; nothing was uttered that could raise a blush on the female cheek. Nor were the audiences less moral than the manager: not an instance can be recorded of riot or indecency. In these respects, Tom Airay's theatre might serve as a model to the patent houses in town, wherein it is to be feared the original intent of the stage, that of improving the mind by inculcating morality, is perverted. Whenever Airay takes a retrospective glance at his theatrical management, he can do it with pleasure; for never did he pander to a depraved appetite, or render his barn a spot wherein the vicious would covet to congregate.

T. Q. M.

Literary Novelty.

"THE SYBIL'S LEAVES, or a Peep into Futurity, published by Ackermann, Strand, and Lupton Relfe, Cornhill," consist of sixty lithographic verses on as many cards,in a case bearing an engraved representation of a party in high humour consulting the cards. and as many for gentlemen: a lady is Thirty of them are designed for ladies, to hold the gentleman's pack, and vice versa. From these packs, each lady or gentleman wishing to have "the most important points infallibly predicted

draw a card.

" is to

The idea of telling fortunes at home is very pleasant; and the variety of "the Sybil's Leaves" assists to as frequent opportunities of re-consultation as the most inveterate craver can desire A lady condemned by one of the leaves to "wither on the virgin thorn," on turning over a new leaf may chance to be assured of a delightful reverse; and by a like easy process, a "disappointed gentleman" become, at last, a "happy man.”

In 1825, this was the first open view nearest London of the ancient River Fleet: it was taken during the building of the high-arched walls connected with the House of Correction, Cold-bath-fields, close to which prison the river ran, as here seen. At that time, the newly-erected walls communicated a peculiarly picturesque effect to the stream flowing within their confines. It arrived thither from Bagnigge-wells, on its way to a covered channel, whereby it passes between Turnmill-street, and again emerging, crosses Chick-lane, now called West-street, near Field-lane, at the back of which it runs on, and continues under Holborn-bridge, Fleetmarket, and Bridge-street, till it reaches

the Thames, close to the stairs on the west side of Blackfriars-bridge. The bridge, whereby boys cross the stream in the engraving, is a large iron pipe for conveying water from the New River Company's works, to supply the houses in Grays- innlane. A few years ago, the New River water was conducted across this valley through wooden pipes. Since the drawing Iwas made, the Fleet has been diverted from the old bed represented in the print, through a large barrel drain, into the course just mentioned, near Turnmill-street. This notice of the deviation, and especially the last appearance of the river in its immemorial channel, may be of interest, because the Fleet is the only ancient stream running