* In the year 1753, “Mrs. Midnight's company” played at the Little Theatre in the Haymarket. A monkey acted the part of a waiter; and three dogs, as Harlequin, Pierrot, and Columbine, rivalled their two-legged competitors; a town was besieged by dogs, and defended by monkeys, the latter tumbling their assailants over the battlements. The dogs and monkeys performed a grand ballet; and a couple of dogs, booted and spurred, mounted a brace of monkeys, and gal- lopped off in Newmarket style. We are not quite certain whether Mrs. Midnight and her comedians travelled so far east as Smithfield Rounds. --taught to dance; and the monkey, * at all times a trump-card, forswore spades and diamonds. There was a mortality among the old dwarfs and Merry Andrews and the glory of Bar-tlemy Fair, _Roast Pig_, had departed! [Illustration: 0182] * Spinacuta's monkey amused the French King and Court by dancing and tumbling on the slack and tight rope; balancing a chandelier, a hoop, and a tobacco-pipe, on the tip of his nose and chin, and making a melodramatic exit in a shower of fireworks. He afterwards exhibited at Sadler's Wells and Bartholomew Fair. ** “August 31, 1768. Died Jonathan Gray, aged nearly one hundred years, the famous Merry Andrew, who formerly exhibited at the fairs about London, and gained great applause by his acting at Covent Garden Theatre, in the entertainment called Bartholomew Fair” “October 3, 1777. Yesterday, died in St. Bartholomew's Hospital, Thomas Carter, the dwarf who was exhibited at last Bartholomew Fair. He was about 25 years of age, measuring only three feet four inches high. It is supposed that over drinking at the fair caused his death.” That crackling dainty, which would make a man _manger son propre père!_ gave place to horrible fried sausages, from which even the mongrels and tabbies of Smithfield instinctively turned aside with anti-cannibal misgivings! Unsavoury links! fizzing, fuming, bubbling, and squeaking in their own abominable black broth! “An ounce of civet, good apothecary, to sweeten mine imagination!” Your Bartlemy Fair kitchen is not the spice islands. In 1661, one of Dame Ursula's particular orders to Mooncalf was to froth the cans well. In 1655, “For a penny you may see a fine puppet play, And for two-pence a rare piece of art; And a penny a can, I dare swear a man May put six (!) of 'em into a quart? Only six! Mark to what immeasurable enormity these subdivisions of cans had risen fifty years after. Well might _Roger in Amaze_ * exclaim,-- * “Roger in Amaze; or the Countryman's Ramble through Bartholomew Fair. To the tune of the Dutch Woman's Jigg. 1701.” “They brought me cans which cost a penny a piece, adsheart,