'Tis otherwise with tragic representations. They are unnatural, not positively, but comparatively unnatural; the incidents are, for the most part, strange, startling, unusual; and though they always must be within possibility, in order to excite the sympathies of beholders,--though some of them may even be historical facts,--yet they are, for the most part, events which come within the probabilities of few of us, and this renders necessary a degree of excitement and elevation in the mind of the spectator, foreign to, and at variance with, the critical spirit of prosaic reality. Again, the scene of a comedy is generally a drawing-room; and the smaller the stage, the greater is the possibility of rendering it absolutely like what we all have seen, and are daily in the habit of seeing; but to represent groves and mountains, or lakes, or the dwellings of the kings of the earth, satisfactorily to the spectator's mind, there must be a certain distance observed, from which the fancy may take its stand for the best perception of what is intended. Whereas, in closer contact with such scenes, not only does their immediate proximity convey an unpleasing consciousness of the unreality of the whole, but the near and absolute detail of paint, canvass, and gilding, is obtruded in a manner that destroys all illusion, and, by disturbing the effect of the whole upon the spectator, necessarily weakens that part which depends solely upon the actor. The same thing applies to dress. Foil-stone, paste, and coloured glass, by French ingenuity have been manufactured into toys, which, with the help of distance, may be admitted as representing the splendours of Eastern costume, or even the glittering trappings of those gaudy little superhumans, the fairies. But nearness utterly dissolves the spell, and these substitutes for magnificence become palpable impositions, and very often most ludicrous ones. I have often been accused of studying my attitudes; but the truth is, that most things that are presented to my imagination, instead of being mere abstractions, immediately assume form and colour, and become pictures; these I constantly execute on the stage as I had previously seen them in my fancy: but as few pictures as large as life admit of being seen to best effect immediately close to the spectator, so the whole effect produced by a graceful attitude, fine colours, or skilful grouping on the stage, is considerably diminished when the space is restricted, and the audience brought too near the performers. So much for little theatres. ---- came in after the play. He told us that as he was coming out of the theatre, a Kentuckian accosted him with, "Well, what do you think of that 'ere _gal_?"--"Oh," hesitatingly replied ----, "I don't quite know."--"Well," retorted the questioner, "any how, I guess she's o' some account!" _Tuesday, 15th._