An author, whose comedies, when returned upon his hands, were generally reduced, by the critical amputation of managers, from the fair proportion of five acts to two, or even one, with the ordinary suggestion of "_necessary alteration_," &c. complained in wrath and bitterness to Sheridan, who, it is said, attempted to console him, by saying, "Why, my good fellow, what I would advise you is, to present a comedy of a _score_ of acts, and the devil will be in it if _five_ be not saved." I have heard it said, that, at the first performance of _The Critic_, Sheridan had adopted, as the representative of Lord Burleigh, an actor whose "looks profound" accorded with his "ignorance;" but who, until then, had only aspired to the livery of the theatre--the placing of chairs, or the presentation of a letter; yet who, in this humble display of histrionic art, generally contrived to commit some egregious blunder. He was remonstrated with, on his choice, by one of the performers, who demonstrated the excessive dulness of apprehension of _the would-be Minister of State_; and, like other and recent instances in that capacity, his singular aptitude to error, however simple the part he had to enact, or clear and concise the instructions with which it might be accompanied. As Sheridan had planned the character, the face was every thing, and the lengthened, dull, and inexpressive visage of the subject was too _strictly ministerial_ to be lost; and the author would, as he said, "defy him to go wrong," Still his friend was sceptical; nor were his doubts removed by Sheridan's assuring him that the representative of Lord Burleigh "would have only to look wise, shake his head, and hold his tongue;" and he so far persisted as to lay a bet with the author that some capital blunder would nevertheless occur. The wager was accepted, and, in the fulness of his confidence, Sheridan insisted that the actor should not even rehearse the part, and yet that he should get through with it satisfactorily to the public and himself on the night of the first performance. It came. The arbiter of hopes and fears appeared in all the "bearded majesty" of the age of Elizabeth; and, flattered by the preference of the great author, had carefully conned over the following instructions:--"Mr. ----, as Lord Burleigh, will advance from the prompter's side;--proceed to the front of the stage;--fall back to where Mr. G---- stands as Sir Christopher Hatton,--shake his head and exit." The important moment came. With "stately step and slow," Lord Burleigh advanced in face of the audience. "Capital!" exclaimed the gratified author;--with equal correctness he retreated to the side of Sir Christopher, without _literally falling back_, which Sheridan had for a moment doubted might be the case. "Good! a lucky escape though." half faltered the anxious poet. "Now! now!" he continued, with eager delight at having got so far so well; but, what was his horror, when his