Astley Cooper.—­Probably no surgeon of ancient or modern times enjoyed a greater share of reputation during his life than fell to the lot of Sir Astley, and that in all parts of the world.  We cannot give a better example of this than the fact of his signature being received as a passport among the mountains of Biscay by the wild followers of Don Carlos.  A young English surgeon, seeking for employment, was carried as a prisoner before Zumalacarrequi, who demanded what testimonials he had of his calling or his qualifications.  Our countryman presented his diploma of the College of Surgeons, and the name of Astley Paston Cooper, which was attached to it, no sooner struck the eye of the Carlist leader, than he at once received his prisoner with friendship, and appointed him a surgeon in his army.

THE DRAMA—­ACTORS, ETC.

Shaving a Queen.—­For some time after the restoration of Charles the Second, young smooth-faced men performed the women’s parts on the stage.  That monarch, coming before his usual time to hear Shakspeare’s Hamlet, sent the Earl of Rochester to know the reason of the delay; who brought word back, that the queen was not quite shaved.  “Ods fish” (his usual expression), “I beg her majesty’s pardon! we will wait till her barber is done with her.”

Liston, in his early career, was a favourite at Newcastle-upon-Tyne, and having applied to the manager for a remuneration equal to the increased value of his services, he refused the request, adding, “If you are dissatisfied you are welcome to leave me; such actors as you, sir, are to be found in every bush.”  On the evening of the day when this colloquy occurred, the manager was driving to another town, where he intended “to carry on the war,” when he perceived Liston standing in the middle of a hedge by the road-side.  “Good heavens!  Liston,” cried the manager, “what are you doing there?” “Only looking for some of the actors you told me of this morning,” was the reply.

Good-natured Author.—­The late M. Segur, among other literary productions, supplied the French theatres with a number of pleasing trifles.  If he was not always successful, he was at least always gay in his reverses.  When his works were ill received by the public, he consoled himself for a failure by a bon-mot; he made even a point of consoling his companions in misfortune.  A piece of his was once brought forward called the Yellow Cabriolet, which happened to be condemned on the first representation.  Some days afterwards a piece, by another author, was presented, which was equally unfortunate.  The author, petrified at his failure, stood for a moment immoveable.  “Come, come, my dear sir,” said M. Segur, “don’t be cast down, I will give you a seat in my Yellow Cabriolet.”

A Heavy Play.—­When Sir Charles Sedley’s comedy of “Bellamira” was performed, the roof of the theatre fell down, by which, however, few people were hurt except the author.  This occasioned Sir Fleetwood Shepherd to say, “There was so much fire in his play, that it blew up the poet, house and all.”  “No,” replied the good-natured author, “the play was so heavy, that it broke down the house, and buried the poor poet in his own rubbish.”