He was the original of those who professed to give imitations of the leading players--Kean's of Henderson, as Hamlet in the grave scene, was inimitable. His death was premature and singular. He lived at No. 8, Upper St. Martin's-lane, near the Horse Repository, and was an admirer of fine scenery--the changes in the clouds, and the majestic splendour of the heavens. One evening, he ascended to the roof of his residence, to enjoy an uninterrupted view of the setting sun, when rapt by the object before him and intent on the view, he lost his hold, fell into the street, and was killed. The tragedian's grandfather, George Saville Carey, like his father, died in great distress, July 14, 1807. After that period, Master Carey adopted his father's name, Edmund Kean, and subsequently ennobled the British stage by his transcendant personifications of Othello, Sir Giles Overreach, Richard III., and other characters--a meteor of no prolonged duration, but the effulgence of which will be long remembered. CHAPTER IX. 1803. Containing a very extraordinary incident well worthy of the reader's attention. One evening in the second week of November, 1803,[33] Grimaldi then playing at Drury Lane, had been called by the prompter, and was passing from the green-room to the stage, when a messenger informed him that two gentlemen were waiting to see him at the stage-door. Afraid of keeping the stage waiting, he enjoined the messenger to tell the gentlemen that he was engaged at that moment, but that he would come down to them directly he left the stage. The play was "A Bold Stroke for a Wife:" Miss Mellon was Anne; Bannister, Feignwell; Aitkin, Simon Pure; and Grimaldi, Aminadab. As soon as he could get away from the stage, he hurried down stairs, and inquiring who wanted him, was introduced to two strangers, who were patiently awaiting his arrival. They were young men of gentlemanly appearance, and upon hearing the words, "Here's Mr. Grimaldi--who wants him?" one of them turned hastily round, and warmly accosted him. He looked about his own age, and had evidently been accustomed to a much warmer climate than that of England. He wore the fashionable evening-dress of the day--that is to say, a blue body-coat with gilt buttons, a white waistcoat, and tight pantaloons--and carried in his hand a small gold-headed cane. "Joe, my lad!" exclaimed this person, holding out his hand, in some agitation, "how goes it with you now, old fellow?" He was not a little surprised at this familiar address from a person whom he was not conscious of ever having seen in his life, and, after a moment's pause, replied that he really had not the pleasure of the stranger's acquaintance.