17 MARCH 1832, Page 20

H. B. has commemorated the amusing Peachum and Lockit quar-

rel between Lords Londonderry and Plunkett, in the form of an "Irish Row." Plunkett, with his basket of "loaves and fishes" on his arm, is dealing Londonderry a knock-down blow with his shilelah ; while Dawson, in aiming at Plunkett, gives "poor old" Eldon a rap in the eye : John Bull, as the beadle, comes to keep the peace. Among the lookers-on, are Lords Wellington, Wharncliffe, Ellenborough, &c. By the way, the Duke's speech on the matter brings to mind a conge- nial sentiment of a hero of a different sort,—Jonathan Wild the Great, who, on a similar occasion, is recorded to have thus expostulated with'" the two combatants : " I am ashamed to see men embarked in so great and glorious an undertaking as that of robbing the public, so foolishly and weakly dissenting among themselves. If the public are weak enough to interest themselves in your quarrel, and to prefer one to the other while both are aiming at their purses, it is your business to laugh at, not imitate, their folly."

The manceuvres of Holland and Russia in the matter of Belgium are humorously pointed at by H. B. in a diplomatic game at " Hunt- the Slipper." The Russian Minister is slily conveying the slipper into the pocket of Mynheer's capacious breeches ; whose broad disc, like the sun seen through a mist, only seems the larger by being obscured.

The scene exhibited at the Caledonian Chapel on the occasion of the morning performances of the Unknown Tongues, has been at- tempted in a phantasmagoria-like sketch, which professes to give the likenesses of the manager and the principal performers, Mesdames Carsdale and Hall, and Mr. Tamplin. It is by no means so effective a picture as the chapel presents on those occasions. The gloom or the interior is heightened to a mysterious effect, by the faint dawn of morning appearing through the gothic windows, and "casting a dim, religious light," which, aided by the feeble gleam of a solitary lamp, shows the tall figure of the high-priest of these modern oracles, en- veloped in a cloak, whose ample folds conceal his whole person ; and when he raises his arms, they expand like wings to a portentous ex- tent, and resemble the shadow of the Evil One. The chill air of the half-filled chapel, and the preternatural screams of the "gifted," which: Mr. Irving himself compares to the tragic declamation of Mrs. Sid- dons or Miss O'Neil (where did he hear them ?), form altogether a. scene that is worth braving the bleak air of a March morning before sunrise to witness.