"I occasionally attend the theatres. At Covent Garden there is the best acting in the world; Mr. Kemble is the first tragic actor now in England; Cook was a rival and excelled him in some characters. Mrs. Siddons is the first tragic actress, perhaps, that ever lived. She is now advanced in life and is about to retire from the stage; on the 29th of this month she makes her last appearance. I must say I admire her acting very much; she is rather corpulent, but has a remarkably fine face; the Grecian character is finely portrayed in it; she excels to admiration in deep tragedy. In Mrs. Beverly, in the play of the 'Gamesters' a few nights ago, she so arrested the attention of the house that you might hear your watch tick in your fob, and, at the close of the play, when she utters an hysteric laugh for joy that her husband was not a murderer, there were different ladies in the boxes who actually went into hysterics and were obliged to be carried out of the theatre. This I think is proof of good acting. Mrs. Siddons is a woman of irreproachable character and moves in the first circles; the stage will never again see her equal. "You mustn't think because I praise the acting that I am partial to theatres. I think in a certain degree they are harmless, but, too much attended, they dissipate the mind. There is no danger of my loving them too much; I like to go once in awhile after studying hard all day. "Last night, as I was passing through Tottenham Court Road, I saw a large collection of people of the lower class making a most terrible noise by beating on something of the sounding genus. Upon going nearer and enquiring the cause, I found that a butcher had just been married, and that it is always the custom on such occasions for his brethren by trade to serenade the couple with _marrow-bones_ and _cleavers_. Perhaps you have heard of the phrase 'musical as marrow-bones and cleavers'; this is the origin of it. If you wish to experience the sound let each one in the family take a pair of tongs and a shovel, and then, standing all together, let each one try to outdo the other in noise, and this will give you some idea of it. How this custom originated I don't know. I hope it is not symbolical of the _harmony_ which is to exist between the parties married." Among those eminent Englishmen to whom young Morse had letters of introduction was Zachary Macaulay, editor of the "Christian Observer," and father of the historian. The following note from him will be found of a delightful old-time flavor:--