The death of Clytus made a monstrous noise, which disturbed the master in the parlour, who called out to know the reason; and was answered by the cook below, 'Nothing, sir, but that Alexander has kill'd Clytus.'" * * * * * In latter days Hulet took great pride in the sonorous tones of his voice, and loved nothing more dearly than to steal up behind a man and startle the unsuspecting one by giving a very loud "Hem." It was a "Hem," however, which helped to make the actor's winding-sheet, for one fine day he repeated the trick, burst a blood-vessel, and died within twenty-four hours.
Heaven bless all these merry vagabonds! We may not always wish to follow in their footsteps, but we like to keep near them and pry into their careless, happy lives.

When the Bohemians enter a pot-house we are too virtuous, presumably, to go in likewise, but we stand without, to get a tempting whiff of hot negus and a snatch of some genial jest or tuneful song.

Then, if our players stray, perchance, into the gloomy precincts of a pawn-shop, are we not quite prepared to steal up to the window and discover what tribute is being paid to mine uncle?
And so, speaking of pot-houses, and negus, and pawn-shops, let us end our extracts from the invaluable Chetwood with this unconventional reminiscence of another player, Mr.John Thurmond.

It was a custom at that time for persons of the first rank and distinction to give their birthday suits to the most favoured actors.

I think Mr.Thurmond was honoured by General Ingolsby with his.