The contest in the third act is splendidly phrased; but the _dénouement_ is so confused and incomplete, that Young was obliged to add an epilogue to explain what was supposed to take place at and after the fall of the curtain! Garrick substituted a coarse epilogue which was spoken by sprightly Kitty Clive, who loved to give coarseness all its point; but it could not save the piece, and it seriously offended the author. Since then, "The Brothers" has descended into that oblivion which fittingly enfolds nearly all the classical tragedies of the last century. It is not without its beauties; but it does not picture the period it affects to pourtray. The "sir" and "madam" sound as harshly as the "_citizen Agamemnon_," which the French Republic introduced into Racine's plays; and the epithets are only one degree less absurd than the "_Oui, Milor_," which Voltaire's Beersheba addresses to King David. Barry's Jaffier, played for the first time on the 21st of November 1752, placed him on an equality with Garrick in that character; but he was not so great in this as in Jones's tragedy, the "Earl of Essex," which he played on the 21st of February, to Smith's Southampton, and the Countess of Rutland of Mrs. Cibber. One sentence in this tragedy, uttered by Barry, seems to have had an almost incredible effect. When the Earl, pointing to the Countess of Rutland in a swoon, exclaimed, "Oh, look there!" Barry's attitude and pathetic expression of voice were such that "all the critics in the pit burst into tears, and then shook the theatre with repeated and unbounded applause." The bricklayer poet, whom Chesterfield brought from Drogheda, only to ultimately die, half-starved, in a garret near Covent Garden, attributed the success of the piece to his own powers, whereas it was due to the wonderful acting of Barry and Mrs. Cibber alone. With this season James Quin disappeared from the stage. For a year or two he had not acted. The triumphs of Garrick, followed by those of Barry, drove from the scene the old player who, for nearly forty years, belonged to the now bygone school of Betterton, but particularly of Booth, whose succession he worthily held, rather than of Garrick. James Quin stands, however, worthily among, if not on a level with, those actors of two different eras, having something of each, but yet distinct from either. Such a man deserves a few words in addition to those I have already written.