As might have been expected from Master Payne's limited means of stage instruction, he several times discovered want of judgment. In the speech in which Norval tells his story, he trespassed on propriety in his efforts to throw an air of martial ardor into his expressions; by suddenly changing the key and raising the tone of his voice, and speaking with increased rapidity the words that more immediately related to fighting, erecting them into a kind of _alto relievo_ above the level of the rest; particularly in "I had heard of battles," &c. "We fought and conquered," &c. all which is a narrative that should be delivered with humility, and a strict avoidance of any thing like vainglory, or egotism, studiously softening down, with modest air, those details of his own prowess which the author has _necessarily_ given to the character. Had Master Payne had a Hough to instruct him, or a Cooke for his model, he would have escaped the error into which he fell in that part of the fourth act in which Norval describes the hermit who instructed him: he would have known that acting what he narrates is highly improper--indeed absurd; as it is acting in the first person, and speaking in the third at one and the same time. While he repeated the words ----Cut the figures of the marshall'd hosts, Described the motions, and explain'd the use Of the deep column, and the lengthened line, The square, the crescent, and the phalanx firm, Master Payne cut those figures, and described the square and the crescent with his hands--a great error! A better lesson cannot be offered to a young actor on this subject than may be found in the novel of Peregrine Pickle, in which doctor Smollet ridicules Quin the player for acting narrative in Zanga. Master Payne would find it his interest to avoid as much as may be, long declamatory speeches, till his organs are enlarged and confirmed. But in those parts in which Douglas discloses his lofty spirit, and no less in all the pathetic parts, he far exceeded expectation, and deserved all the applause he received. Oh, tell me who and where's my mother! Oppressed by a base world, perhaps she bends Beneath the weight of other ills than grief, And, desolate, implores of Heaven the aid Her son should give---- Oh, tell me her condition. There was, in his delivering these lines, an expression of tenderness which appealed forcibly to the heart; and was rendered still more striking by the abrupt transition to his sword, Can the sword---- Who shall resist me in a parent's cause? which he executed with a felicity that nothing but consummate genius could accomplish. Again he blazed out with _the true spirit_ in the following lines: The blood of Douglas will protect itself. Then let yon false Glenalvon beware of me.