a Bible on old Jeffreys’ shelf, expressed a hope that he often read it. ‘Can’t say as how I do, sir,’ was the candid rejoinder; ‘I allus gets so poorus over it!’ When the rector alluded to a certain wench as ‘disreputable,’ Jeffreys protested in the very spirit of chivalry. ‘Don’t do that! Do as I do! I allus praises her. Charity hides a deal o’ sin, master! ain’t that Scripture? If it are, am I to be lectured at for sticking up and saying a good word for she? ‘When it was urged that this light-o’-love queen ought to be married, Samaritan Jeffreys stept in with his sympathetic balsam. ‘Poor thing!’ he exclaimed, ‘_she ain’t no turn to it_!’ The apology was worthy of my Uncle Toby! There are other stories quite worthy of him who invented Uncle Toby; but, _basta!_ we have been, as it were, metaphorically dining with Mr. Julian Young--dining so well that we cannot recall to mind half the anecdotes told at his table in illustration of Charles Young and his times. _WILLIAM CHARLES MACREADY._ In the year 1793, a gentleman who was a member of the Covent Garden company, in the department of ‘utilities,’ might be seen, any day during the season, punctually on his way to the theatre, for rehearsal or for public performance. At the above date he had been seven years on the London boards, having first appeared at the ‘Garden’ in 1786, as Flutter in ‘The Belle’s Stratagem.’ His name was William Macready, father of _the_ Macready, and his _début_ on the English stage was owing to the influence of Macklin, whom the young fellow had gratified by playing Egerton to the veteran’s Sir Pertinax, exactly according to the elaborate instructions he had patiently received from Macklin himself at rehearsal. William Macready had left the vocation of his father in Dublin--that of an upholsterer--for the uncertain glories of the stage. The father was a common councilman, and was respectably connected--or, rather, his richer relatives were respectably connected in having him for a kinsman. In Ireland there is a beggarly pride which looks down upon trade as a mean thing. Mr. Macready, the flourishing Dublin upholsterer, took to that sound mean thing, and found his account in so doing. His prouder kinsmen may have better respected their blood, but they had not half so good a book at their banker’s. The upholsterer’s son took his kinsmen’s view of trade, and deserted it accordingly. He could hardly, however, have gratified them by turning player; but he followed the bent of his inclinations, addressed himself to sock and buskin, toiled in country theatres, was tolerated rather than patronised in his native city, and, as before said, got a footing on the Covent Garden stage in 1786.