To the correct orthoepist, several persons on the stage give offence in the pronunciation of the pronoun possessive MY--speaking it in all cases with the full open Y, as it would rhyme to _fly_, which should only be when it is put in contradistinction to _thy_ or _his_, or any other pronoun possessive: in all other cases it should be sounded like _me_. This is a pure Americanism, not practised in any other place where the English language is spoken, and, so far as it goes, deprives the word of a quality of nice distinctness. It gives us great pleasure to communicate to our readers the intelligence that Master Payne's success at Richmond, even surpassed that which he had met before. From a letter submitted to our perusal we have, with permission, made the following extract: "Wednesday night Payne arrived; Thursday was the first day of his performance; the other nights, being Saturday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday and Saturday, when the house closed for the season; and on Sunday he departed in the mail stage. This flying visit (of ten days only) produced him upwards of SEVENTEEN HUNDRED DOLLARS!!" * * * * * It was our intention to confine our remarks on this occasion entirely to Master Payne. It seemed to us that the interest taken by the public in this native plant, the novelty of his appearance, and, indeed, his own merits, laid claim to a very particular discussion of his performances: but as we read over the play for that purpose, Mr. M'Kenzie's _Old Norval_ forced itself so imperiously upon our remembrance, that we could not drop the subject without doing justice to that gentleman's performance and our own feelings. It was a specimen of acting and speaking we little expected to meet with: masterly, chaste, and exquisitely affecting; no less gratifying to the critical ear than to the feeling heart. We particularly admired his attestation to heaven of his innocence: As I hope For mercy before the judgment seat of heaven The tender lamb that never nipt the grass Is not more innocent than I of murder. And his pathetic supplication for mercy: Oh, gentle lady! by your lord's dear life, Which these weak hands, I swear, did ne'er assail, And by your children's welfare spare my age! Let not the iron tear my aged joints, And my gray hairs bring to the grave with pain. The first of these he poured forth with an expression of simple sincerity, and the second with a gentle earnestness, so humble, so passionately moving, that none but the most hardened hearts could resist it. Even the gallery felt its force and made the house resound with its rude applause--'twas well; and we may say with Pierre, We could have hugged the greasy rogues; they pleased us.