happened that the person so interrogated had not read Shakespeare, which was the only reason I could assign why the adventurous querist was not immediately sent aboard the Stygian tender.

Silence, in the opinion of a talker, is not mere ly the suppression of the action of the tongue : it is necessary that every muscle of the face, and member of the body, should receive its motion from no other sensation than that which the talker communicates through the ear.

An hearer must not have the fidgets. He must not start if he hears a door clap, a gun go off, or a cry of murder. He must not sniff with his nostrils if he smells fire; because, though he should save the house by it, he will be as ill rewarded as Cassandra for her endeavours to prevent the flames of Troy, or Gulliver for extinguishing those of Lilliput. [Mirror.]

BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH OF
MRS. JONES.

Selected from the Theatrical Censor.

MRS. JONES was one of three daughters of a respectable physician in London, of the name of Granger, who, dying while she was young, left her in the care of a mother and grandmother, Mrs. Booth of Drury-Lane His circumstances at his death not being flourishing, the grandmother took this daughter under her D...VOL. 4.

own care, and introduced her, at an early age, as a singer at the theatre where she was herself engaged. She is said to have played several musical parts with success; but we have seen no publick mention of her performances. About six years since, she married Mr. Jones, comedian, and embarked for America. Her first engagement was at Philadelphia, where she and her husband played three seasons, but without acquiring any extraordinary share of approbation. Thence she went to Boston, where her talents first began to expand, under the management of Mr. Powell. But domestick disquiet entered their dwelling, which ended in her husband's leaving her and her four children, for Charleston, where he performed one season, and where he died in August last.

[ The writer of the preceding article in the Censor is under a mistake, which we take the liberty to correct. Mr. and Mrs. J. were first engaged by Mr. Whitlock, and perfomed here through the season of 1800-1801, when that gentleman was manager of the Boston Theatre. Mrs. J. made her first appearance in America, 08. 19, 1800, as Miss Blandford, in Morton's then new comedy of "Speed the Plough," and was the principal favourite of the audience during the whole season...Polyanthos.]

All, who have witnessed the charming exhibitions of this favourite of Thalia, will acknowledge the justice of the opinion, that, in her death, the New-York theatre has lost its principal female attraction and ornament.

In

the JORDAN dine, she never had an equal, in this country; and, when we consider, that, to her comick talents, she added, what neither Mrs. JORDAN nor Mrs. C. KEMBLE (Miss DE CAMP) possess, extraordinary powers in opera, it may be doubted, whether even the London stage can boast of her superiour. In the ballad and pathetick style of Musick, she was unrivalled. Her voice had a heart-felt sweetness peculiar to herself, and its flexibility was wonderful. She could

Dwell on the note, and die along the ftrain,

without the appearance of labour to herself, or giving uneasiness on her account to the auditor. Her cantabiles were executed with a neatness, a taste and a grace, never before heard on our boards.

In her comedy and farce, she was equally extraordinary; always chaste, yet never deficient in spirit; always true to nature, yet never, for a moment, flat or insipid: she had a gay vivacity of manner, and archness of look, tempered with modesty, that never failed to win upon every spectator. Let the success with which she repeated her favourite parts, during the last winter, amounting to a number never known on the American stage,attest her talents. Let the universal applause with which, in every character, on every night, she was greeted, attest them also. But, the lasting impression of regret, which she has left on the memory of all who ever saw her, affords the best testimo-" ny of her uncommon excellence. It may tru

ly be said, that it will be a misfortune to any actress to be obliged to appear before the New York audience, in one of her conspicuous char acters.

After all, she had but stepped upon the threshold of her fame.. Possessed of a strong and cultivated understanding, with a turn for study; a tolerable person, a countenance, not handsome, but very expressive; a strong, clear and well modulated speaking voice, with a pronunciation the most unexceptionably correct and elegant that I ever heard, and an easy and graceful carriage, she would, in the course of. a few years, have become a theatrical wonder. Yet, with all these endowments, she could not escape envy. What do I say? Those endowments it was which excited envy the envy, cruel and never-to-be-conciliated, of the Green-room. Calumny and malice followed all her steps, misrepresented all her actions, and endeavoured to poison every enjoyment of her life. But, she is removed to where neither malice nor envy can reach her!

Place, under her head, a turf, or a stone,

?Tis all one; 'tis all one.

In her private deportment, report speaks of her as amiable, benevolent, and charitable to distress, to the utmost of her power. It has been said, by those best acquainted with her, that, with all her provocation, she had the rare virtue of never speaking ill of any one, nor impertinently meddling in any one's concerns; and notwithstanding the large share of publick

admiration testified to her whenever, and on the first moment, she appeared, yet she bore her faculties so meekly, that the lowest underling of the theatre was more presuming than

Mrs. JONES.

I should do but half my duty, did I not mention the poor unfortunate little-ones she has left behind; one boy and three girls, the oldest of the three only five years of age. With her husband, she left England, and all her natural friends, about five years since. Her husband died last summer, at Charleston; and, now, she being gone, these four children are left, strangers in a strange land, without a single relation on this side the Atlantick, of whom they can ask for a morsel of bread. May that merciful Being, who tempers the wind to the shorn lamb, expand for them the hand of benevolence !

SELECT SENTENCES.

OUR pleasures are destroyed by the most trifling things and may be compared to beds of flowers, among which some will undoubtedly be crushed-and one crushed flower is suffi. cient to disquiet us.

WEDDED pairs, who have opposite disposi tions, and are perpetually squabbling with each other, make one think of the union between the swallow and the snipe. The first, says the fable, was never pleased in winter, the latter never was displeased but in summer.