Fresh novelties were produced in 1828, the most attractive being the equestrian act called ‘Raphael’s Dream,’ in which Ducrow reproduced, on horseback, the finest conceptions of the sculptors of ancient Greece, receiving immense applause at every exhibition. Miss Woolford and George Cooke made their first appearance at Astley’s in this year, in a double performance on the tight-rope, in which the former _artiste_ was for a long time without a rival. Aptitude for this exhibition seems, as in other branches of circus business, to be hereditary; and a Miss Woolford may have been found as a tight-rope performer in some circus or other any time within the last half-century. I remember seeing a tight-rope performer of this name in a little show which attended the July fair at Croydon about thirty years ago. Ducrow’s stud was engaged this year for Vauxhall Gardens, where the hippo-dramatic spectacle of _The Battle of Waterloo_ was revived, and proved as attractive as it had been some years previously at Astley’s. The year 1828 is also memorable for the first introduction of an elephant into the arena, a colossal performing animal of that genus being brought, with its keeper, from Cross’s menagerie, which many readers, even old residents in the metropolis, may require to be informed had its location on the site of what afterwards became Exeter Arcade, in the rear of the houses on the north side of the Strand, between Exeter Street and Catherine Street. The elephant was also led in the bridal procession which constituted one of the displays of the quadrupedal resources of the establishment in the spectacular drama of _Bluebeard_. In travelling over the records of saw-dust performances, we are frequently reminded of the saying of the wise monarch of Israel, that there is no new thing under the sun. The bills of Astley’s, the advertisements of the Royal Circus and the Olympic Pavilion, the traditions of travelling circuses, present us with the originals of almost every feat that the acrobats and posturers of the present day have ever attempted. Ducrow, it has been seen, was the originator of the _poses plastiques_, revived and made famous a quarter of a century ago by Madame Wharton and troupe, at the Walhalla, in Leicester Square, and subsequently by Harry Boleno, the clown, at the Alhambra. Another instance comes under notice in 1829, when a performer named O’Donnel exhibited at Astley’s the antipodean feats performed a few years ago at the London Pavilion, and other music-halls, by Jean Bond. O’Donnel mounted a ladder, stood on his head on the top of one of the uprights, kicked away the other, with all its rungs, and in that position drank a glass of wine, and performed several tricks. The kicking away of the unfixed portion of the ladder invariably creates a sensation among the spectators, but adds nothing to the difficulty or danger of the performance.