perhaps influence his old brother in arms, Saldanha, in his hesitation to advance on Oporto.

While these events were occurring in the north, some of the leading Septembristas quitted Lisbon, and seducing some of the regular troops, who were joined by numerous Guerilla bands, put themselves at their head. On this Saldanha was sent against them, and at Torres Vedras, and wherever he encountered them he defeated them with great loss. In the Minho the queen's generals were equally successful, and a large Miguelite Guerilla, under the English adventurer, Macdonel, was compelled to retreat while their general was killed.

The rebels of the various political parties who had managed to escape from the field, took refuge in Oporto, which they immediately commenced fortifying, and soon placed in a condition to hold out against the queen's armies. Had Saldanha and the other loyal generals followed up their first sucesses, they would, in all probability, have succeeded in capturing Oporto; but in the hope that the rebels would not longer hold out, and from their unwillingness to shed more blood, they contented themselves with merely surrounding the city till the severity of the winter put a stop to further operations. Since that time literally nothing has been done; and it is to be hoped that the affair may be settled by the mediation of foreign powers, since neither of the contending parties appear to have strength to terminate the contest by themselves. The queen's generals seem lately to have acted most supinely, while the rebels have lost no opportunity of improving their resources. The queen's steamers which were so disgracefully delivered into their hands, have afforded them the means of fitting out an expedition to make a descent on some parts of the coast, with the result of which, by the time this is in print, my readers will be acquainted. As an example of the injury accruing to commerce, while some of the queen's troops hold the Castle of Vianna, a town of considerable importance to the north of Oporto, the troops of the Junta have possession of the surrounding houses. An English merchantman, laden with salt fish, lies at the mouth of the river, ready to discharge her cargo, and the rebels wish her to do so, provided the duty is paid to them, but the garrison of the castle, to prevent this, threatened to sink her, should she attempt to break bulk. Thus she remains, neither party allowing the other to make use of her cargo, which is in the meantime running great risk of being spoilt. I must here take an opportunity to contradict a calumnious report which went the round of the English papers regarding the behaviour of that gallant soldier, the Baron de Casal on the taking of Braga. It was stated that he allowed his troops to commit every kind of excess, and that numbers of the inhabitants were murdered after the place was entered. This atrocious falsehood was fabricated by some of the friends of the Junta, and was forwarded to the English admiral at Lisbon, who stated what he had heard to the queen. Her majesty would immediately have recalled her general, but her ministers recommending an inquiry to be made into the truth of the report, the channel through which it had come was traced out, and it was proved to be utterly unfounded. The Portuguese, as a nation, are more humane than any people in Europe, and even during the civil wars in which they have been unhappily so long plunged, have never been guilty of those excesses which stain the character of other more civilised people.

A very important question now arises. What line of policy is England

to take with regard to Portugal? France, and, of course, Spain, follows the same lead, have shown their determination to support the queen, and to ingratiate themselves to the utmost through their diplomatic agents with the Portuguese.

For this wise purpose, for some years past, the French have employed men of considerable talent and attractive manners to gain the affections of all classes of the Portuguese, which they most effectively have succeeded in doing. Every thing French has consequently become the fashion in Portugal. French politics, French religion, customs and costume, and all those who can afford it, send their sons to school or to travel in France. They, of course, contrast the cold, if not contemptuous, manners of the English, with the conciliatory behaviour of their Gallic friends, and although with the latter there can be but slight commercial relations, they might be tempted, even contrary to their own interests, to combine with them against us in case of another general continental war; and should Portugal again become a battle-ground, we should find the difference of having to march through her rocky defiles with a population armed against instead of for us. Gratitude for past assistance must not be for a moment calculated on. Years of bungling interference have wiped away all feeling of the sort which formerly existed, for although I believe we are still respected, we are most certainly, as a nation, more hated than loved. The Portuguese are fully sensible of their weakness, and are not blind to their own miserable plight, nor, at the same time forgetful of the lofty position from which they have fallen, but we ought to recollect, that there is no person so proud as a decayed gentleman, and that to relieve his necessities we must do so with as much delicacy as possible, or he would spurn our offers. It is precisely this feeling which prompts the advisers of the queen to refuse the mediation of England in settling the dispute with her rebel subjects. When driven to it at last, as she inevitably must be, she will do so with a bad grace; and I strongly doubt whether our interference will have any other effect than that of merely dispersing the rebels for a time, to reunite before long against her in some new combination. I do not think that the Miguelite party have any chance of success. His public, as well as his private character have deprived Dom Miguel of all the respect in which he otherwise might have been held by those who consider it their interest to support him, and supposing that he had any right to the throne, he virtually abandoned all his pretensions when he agreed to act as regent for his niece, and took the oath of allegiance to her, still more did he forfeit all his claims to the affections of his countrymen when he so flagitiously broke his oath, and usurped her crown, murdering, without remorse, all who ventured to oppose him. He is, in fact, at present, merely a tool in the hands of a small and bigoted party, worked on by the Jesuits, and should he even succeed in gaining the throne, he would very soon be driven forth again an outcast as he now is.

Neither the existing Spanish nor French governments would wish to see the republican party succeed; and certainly we should not: we therefore have but one course to pursue-first to assist the queen in quelling the rebellion, and to persuade her to act with clemency towards the rebels, and then, if we would regain the influence we once possessed in the country, by sending out intelligent and courteous political agents to conciliate the people by every means in our power.

RECOLLECTIONS OF LEMAN REDE.

WILLIAM LEMAN REDE was born on the 31st January, 1802, in the city of Hamburg. He was a collateral descendant of Sir John Lemann, Lord Mayor of London, who founded the great Lemann Estates in Goodman's Fields, and elsewhere, which of late years have given rise to so many claimants and so much litigation. The father of the subject of these recollections was Thomas Rede, Esq., Barrister-at-Law, the author of a book on "The Laws of England," for which he was compelled to expatriate himself from the country, in 1799; and a translation of "St. Pierre's Anecdotes of Eminent Characters." It is said that a scrap-book he had formed was valued at a thousand pounds. He died when William was only eight years old, leaving a widow and five children, who shortly afterwards settled in London. This was in the year 1807. There are few records of Rede's boyish career, save that he early evinced that firmness of purpose which in after-life so eminently characterised him. He excelled in athletic sports; and became noted as a formidable bruiser. Being of a naturally pugnacious disposition, he settled all his disputes with his fists; but it is remarkable, that the most lasting of his friendships were with those persons whom, in youth, he had soundly thrashed. Indeed, he at one time contemplated following pugilism as a profession, and actually trained in Sussex, and fought a match for 407., under the sobriquet of "The Brighton Gipsy Boy."

On attaining a fitting age, Mr. Rede was placed in the office of Mr. Rosser, a solicitor, with a view to being articled. He displayed much aptitude for business, and acquired sufficient knowledge of the law to render him in maturer years a safe authority on matters of legal difficulty; but he disliked the profession, and, to use his own words, "would rather have pounced upon any thing than parchment."

An amateur theatre-that outlet through which cramped genius so frequently finds a way into the world-soon beguiled young Rede from the labours of the desk. Here his elder brother, Leman Thomas, and himself, laid that dramatic foundation on which they both reared their means of future livelihood. On one occasion their mother attended, and the curtain being unexpectedly raised while they were rehearsing a combat, she was so terrified under the impression that they were mortally engaged, for she was quite ignorant of every thing relating to Thespian matters, that she shrieked loudly to have them separated, and was carried insensible from the theatre. Soon after this, William, in 1823, made his first public appearance at the Margate Theatre, as Young Marlowe in Goldsmith's comedy of "She Stoops to Conquer." He subsequently appeared at Bristol; and eventually in the metropolis, at the Tottenham-street Theatre, then called the West London, where he produced a very favourable impression in light comedy. The strongest friendship subsisted between himself and his brother, and they were styled "The Inseparables." This intimacy ripened with their years, and to Thomas did William owe his chief prosperity. A circumstance occurred about this time, trivial in itself, but strikingly illustrative of

that admixture of justice and partial bias which the latter was afterwards accustomed to display in matters where those he favoured were concerned. The brothers were one evening at a sporting-house, where Thomas, under an impulse of sudden anger, was betrayed into charging some one present with direct falsehood. The assemblage arose en masse to inflict summary chastisement on the offender, upon which William caught up a chair, and planting himself in front of his brother, whispered to him, "You deserve to be well licked! But I'll stick to you for all that!"

About this period it was that Rede experienced a fall from a horse, and the animal, in plunging forward, inflicted a violent kick; from the effects of which he suffered to the latest hour of existence. Few who witnessed his active habits, his great pedestrian powers, and untiring fondness of locomotion, were aware of the fact, that each new exertion was a fresh trial of the constitution, and that his naturally robust frame was unsettled at the very foundation. His ailment had, however, no effect upon his spirits. He was an optimist in every thing, and, happen what might, he took it all in good part; caring nothing so long as he had an auditor to his wit, and fortitude on the occasion. It was only when alone that Rede ever felt.

At the close of the season he devoted himself to the press, and speedily established himself in high favour as a critic on all matters connected with the drama. None better could distinguish between talent and pretension; none better adjust the intricate balance betwixt the practised charlatan and the unpractised man of promising merit. The gew-gaws of decoration, the heraldings of puff, the conventional efforts of the actor, were insufficient to cheat his understanding, and he has frequently stood alone in the condemnation of a piece of stage-writing when even the treasury has been overflowing from the effects of success. But he invariably found his opinions confirmed by the suffrages of common-sense, when the novelty had worn off.

The true bent of his inclination would have inclined him to pursue his Thespian career in the provinces, but the ardent attachment he entertained for his brother, made him elect London and the journals instead. This tie was shortly interrupted by the arrest for debt of Thomas. William lost the companion of his walks, and town lost its attractions for him. Having accidentally picked up a five-pound-note at the end of Child'splace, near Temple-bar, he divided the amount with his brother, and joined a strolling company of comedians in the west of England. His anecdotes of these times abounded in interest and humour. He had his enjoyments and endured his trials-his natural light-heartedness throwing a cheering ray over the darkest scene.

It is unnecessary to trace him through the period of his itineracy. He encountered the usual reverses of a wandering actor; at one time representing Hamlet, in a barn; at another Rover, on a billiard-table. With money and without, he was the life and soul of gaiety; whether paid or unpaid he was alike the same, and, on once being questioned how he preserved his spirits at the non-receipt of salary, he replied,

"I drink spring-water and dance !"

The re-opening of the West London in 1825, under Beverley, brought him again to town, and he now gave to the world his novels of the "Wedded Wanderer," and the "White Tower," both in three volumes,

together with a work on "The Crimes and Criminals of Yorkshire." He also, in conjunction with his brother, produced a weekly publication, entitled, "Oxberry's Dramatic Biography," Thomas having married the relict of that popular comedian, and conceiving himself as much entitled to take the name as the widow. The work sold well, and extended to eight or nine volumes, but as a book of reference it is not to be relied upon. The fidelity of the portraits by which it is embellished of popular actors and actresses, render it valuable as far as they are concerned, and the memoirs are entertaining, but intrinsically it has no merit, being correct in neither fact nor chronology. If any one complained when an actor, in the above publication, was made the hero of events he never witnessed, Rede remarked that he ought to be thanked on both sides-by the player and by the public-for imparting any degree of interest to a nonentity. Being asked during its progress how he employed himself, he answered, "Like a bashaw-I take a life a week."

In 1828-9, Rede once more visited the provinces, but this time in the capacity of a leading actor in such theatres as those of York, Liverpool, Edinburgh, Richmond, and other principal towns in England and Scotland. The walls of his dressing-rooms yet bear many of the poetical effusions with which he enriched them. He frequently played with Edmund Kean, and during the circuit formed some of his most lasting friendships. One day, on hearing a young lady addressed by the name of "Sarah," he turned to Miss Cooke, who had that morning joined the company, and observed, that of all names he thought the one just uttered the most disagreeable.

"My name is Sarah," said Miss Cooke.

The contre temps was awkward, but it served to introduce the parties, and in process of time their acquaintance terminated in matrimony. This lady was the estimable daughter of Cooke, the bass singer of Drury Lane, and cousin to Mesdames W. West and Waylett.

In 1832, the erratic actor and penman once more reached the metro

polis, never again to leave it for a permanency. He arrived at a golden moment, burst at once into public success, and fixed himself for life under the eye of popularity.

In promotion of this, a conjunction of events had favoured. During his journey to the north, his brother Thomas, his unflinching advocate and friend, had paved the way for an auspicious reception both in public and private. The spark to the train thus laid was applied by Messrs. Davenport and Rayner, at the Strand Theatre. This place had been newly converted to dramatic purposes from Burford's Panorama, but the Lord Chamberlain refusing a licence, the lessees determined on opening it in defiance, and popular sympathy was enlisted in their favour. Rede, who had played with both managers in the country, was engaged to produce a piece de circonstance for the opening night, under the title of "Professionals Puzzled." It took the town at once. His "Humpback" and "Judgment of Paris" followed, and Leman Rede became a made man.

The laughter-loving public sighed for fun. There was nothing to discuss but music, the serious drama, and politics: Paganini, Sheridan Knowles, and the Reform Bill! In fine, to employ an antiquated joke, "there was nothing moving but stagnation," when all of a sudden Leman Rede burst through the gloom. He gave Paganini to the Strand