On Monday, November the 18th, the theatre opened, and their career was for some time eminently successful as long, indeed, as the fine weather lasted; but no sooner did the rainy weather set in, than the manager discovered, to his horror and surprise, that the roof of the theatre, being in a dilapidated condition, was not waterproof. At length, one night towards the end of December, a very heavy rain coming down during the performance, actually drove the audience out of the house. The water descended in torrents into the pit and boxes: some people who were greatly interested in the performances put up their umbrellas, and others put on great coats and shawls; but at length it came down so heavily upon the stage, that the performers themselves were obliged to disappear. In a few minutes the stage was covered, the scenery soaked through, the pit little better than a well, and the boxes and gallery streaming with water. This unforeseen occurrence threw both literally and figuratively a damp upon the performances which there was no recovering. From that time, with the single exception of one evening, the theatre was deserted. Tarpaulings, and all kinds of cheap remedies, were tried, but they all failed in producing their intended effect. They never kept the water out, or drew the company in. As to any thorough repair of the roof, it was wholly out of the question; for the Dibdins only held the theatre until March, and the necessary repairs under this head alone would have cost at the very least 200_l._ In this state of things, Mr. Charles Dibdin was compelled to write to London for remittances wherewith to pay his company. Knowing exactly how he was situated, Grimaldi volunteered his services in the only way in which he could render them, and offered not to send to the treasury for his salary, but to leave it to be paid whenever the manager might appoint after their return to London. This offer, it is almost unnecessary to add, was gratefully accepted.