The arrangement of incidents in this piece was evidently an appeal to the
ingenuity of the audience--our own penetration failed, however, in
unravelling the plot. There was a drunken, gaming, dissipated student of
St. John's, Cambridge--a friend in a slouched hat and an immense pair of
jack-boots, and a lady who delicately invites her lover (the hero) "to a
private interview and a cold collation." There is something about a
five-hundred-pound note and a gambling-table--a heavy throw of the dice,
and a heavier speech on the vices of gaming, by a likeness of the portrait
of Dr. Dilworth that adorns the spelling-books. The hero rushes off in a
state of distraction, and is followed by the jack-boots in pursuit; the
enormous strides of which leave the pursued but little chance, though he
has got a good start.
At another time two gentlemen appear in kilts, who pass their time in a
long dialogue, the purport of which we were unable to catch, for they were
conversing in stage-Scotch. A man then comes forward bearing a clever
resemblance to the figure-head of a snuff-shop, and after a few words with
about a dozen companions, the entire body proceed to fight a battle; which
is immediately done behind the scenes, by four pistols, a crash, and the
double-drummer, whose combined efforts present us with a representation
of--as the bills kindly inform us--the "Battle of Culloden!" The hero is
taken prisoner; but the villain is shot, and his jack-boots are cut off in
their prime.
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