Some years ago, a strolling company at Ludlow, in Shropshire, printed a playbill nearly as large as their drop-scene. It announced “The Doleful History of King Lear and his Three Daughters, with the Merry Conceits of his Majesty's Fool, and the valorous exploits of the Duke of Gloucester's Bastard; all written by one William Shakespeare, a mighty great poet, who was born in Warwickshire, and held horses for gentlemen at the sign of the Red Bull in St. John's Street, where was just such another playhouse as this (I!!), at which we hope the company of all friends round the Wrekin. “All you who would wish to cry or laugh, Had better spend your money here than in the alehouse by half; And if you wish more about these things to know, Come at six o'clock to the barn in the High Street, Ludlow, Where, presented by live actors, the whole may be seen, So Vivat Rex, God save the King, not forgetting the Queen.” Just as a strolling actor at Newcastle had advertised his benefit, a remarkable stranger, no less than the Prince Annamaboo arrived, and placarded the town that he granted audiences at a shilling a-head. The stroller, without delay, waited on the proprietor of the Prince, and for a good round sum prevailed on him to command his Serene Highness to exhibit his august person on his benefit night. The bills of the day announced, that between the acts of the comedy Prince Annumaboo would give a lively representation of the scalping operation* sound the Indian war-whoop in all its melodious tones, practise the tomahawk exercise, and dine à la cannibal. An intelligent mob were collected to witness these interesting exploits. At the conclusion of the third act, his Highness marched forward flourishing his tomahawk, and shouting, “Ha, ha!--ho, ho!” Next entered a man Avith his face blacked, and a piece of bladder fastened to his head with gum; the Prince, with an enormous carving-knife, began the scalping part of the entertainment, which he performed in a truly imperial style, holding up the piece of bladder as a token of triumph. Next came the war-whoop, an unearthly combination of discordant sounds; and lastly, the banquet, consisting of raw beef-steaks, which he rolled up into rouleaus, and devoured with right royal avidity. Having finished his delicate repast, he wielded his tomahawk in an exulting manner, bellowed “Ha, ha!--ho, ho!” and made his exit. The beneficiare strolling through the marketplace the following day, spied the most puissant Prince Annama-boo selling pen-knives, scissors, and quills, in the character of a Jew pedlar. “What!” said the astonished Lord Townley, “my Prince, is it you? Are you not a pretty circumcised