would exceed all reasonable bounds to enter into an analysis of them. The days of her Richard and Shylock are, it is to be hoped, over for ever, though there were many sensible things in both these parts -correct conceptions and original and spirited readings, which older heads might adopt with advantage; but it was vexing to see a young and beautiful girl in such a part as Shylock, and the better she played it, the more provoking it was. In comedy there is a glorious and boundless prospect before her, and it is there she appears most perfectly at home. To the high-flown fashionable dames of genteel comedy she cannot as yet do justice, though the time may come when she will do so. One thing is against her. In the lady of high life there is much that is artificial. Now Miss Fisher is too natural for such characters; her spirits are too wild and untameable to be "cabin'd, cribbed, confined, bound in," by the ordinances of a highly polished state of society. Her fine ladies are consequently full of brilliant points-excellent in detached scenes and sentences, but not in keeping as a whole. In parts where nature has fair play, such as Peggy in the Country Girl, or Phebe in Paul Pry, “none but herself can be her parallel." How different from these, yet how delightful in itself, was her Viola in Twelfth Night. We were never before so conscious

of the extreme sweetness of her "small, delicate voice," as when giving utterance to the exquisite poetry which Shakspeare has put into the mouth of "brown Viola." It was in truth "most musical, most melancholy."

The reputation of Clara Fisher has, in a great measure, been built on her representation of the more eccentric parts of the drama, such as the Mowbrays, Little Pickles, &c. and of their kind they are perfect specimens of dramatic excellence. Some may think these are at the best but trifling affairs; we do not. A delineation true to nature is a rare thing, and well worth looking after in whatever shape it is to be found. Miss Fisher has rather a penchant for male attire, which is not to be wondered at, for it becomes her well: all other women whom we have seen wear the inexpressibles in public, cannot forget their sex, but betray throughout a smirking consciousness that they are feminine, and are of course for the most part awkward and embarrassed; she appears to forget her dress and all other minor considerations in the character she is representing.

Before coming to a conclusion, a few words about her singing. Perhaps no one with such limited powers of voice, ever equalled Miss Fisher in the effect which she gives to a song. She

not only sings it, but acts it in the most arch and spirited or tender and impressive manner. Her face is a mirror where every sentiment of humor or feeling expressed in the verse is reflected. What a delightful piece of pleasantry is her "Fall not in love" and how tame and vapid any of her little simple ballads sound when sung afterwards by vocalists of superior pretensions. But there is no end to her varied qualifications, and there seems to be scarcely any limit to her powers.

RONZI VESTRIS.

When you do dance, I wish you

A wave o' the sea, that you might ever do
Nothing but that; move still-still so, and own
No other function.-Shakspeare.

WE were born upon a spot of earth where feet are used for prosaic rather than poetical purposes, and where they are looked upon merely as appendages which it would be singular and inconvenient to be without. Independent of the ordinary business of life, walking and running matches, leaping, or any other hardy and vigorous exercises, were the affairs in which their services were commonly required; though, to be sure, the people did at times assemble, and voluntarily undergo and perform a violent and eccentric motion, by them termed dancing; but, as regarded all the graceful uses to which feet, and the limbs to which they are more immediately attached, might be brought by scientific cultivation, not an idea was entertained, and not a glimmering of light

Kemble will become a great actress, and that the artificial education, of which she has yet much to receive, will not destroy the natural beauty and freshness of her mind. At present her personations are rather distinguished by feminine sweetness and delicacy, and quick and violent transitions of passion, than by sustained force and grandeur; but there is something occasionally in the tone of her voice-in her dark expressive eye and fine forehead, that speaks of the future Queen Katherine and wife of Macbeth. Her Juliet, with some faults, is a delightful, affectionate, warm-hearted piece of acting; and she is decidedly the least mawkish and most truly loving and loveable Belvidera I have ever seen. The closing scene of madness, where others fail, is her greatest triumph. The tones of her voice, when playfully threatening Jaffier, might almost touch the heart of a money-scrivener. She is the only Belvidera I have beheld play this scene twice. They all contrive to make it either excessively repulsive or ridiculous, and somehow or other manage to bring to mind a very vivid picture of Tilburina in the Critic; while their invariably going home in the midst of their distresses, and after a partial touch of insanity, to put off their black velvets and put on their white muslins to go completely mad in, because, as that lady says, "it is a rule," by no