A lady who professed a great admiration for Mrs.
Drake had obtained her permission to be present upon one occasion at her theatrical toilet.

She was dressing for some character in which she was to stab herself, and her dagger was lying on the table.

The visitor took it up, and examining it with much emotion, exclaimed, "what! do you really jab this into yourself sevagarous ?" We also saw the great American star, Mr.Forrest.

What he may become I will not pretend to prophesy; but when I saw him play Hamlet at Cincinnati, not even Mrs.Drake's sweet Ophelia could keep me beyond the third act.

It is true that I have seen Kemble, Macready, Kean, Young, C.Kemble, Cook, and Talma play Hamlet, and I might not, perhaps, be a very fair judge of this young actor's merits; but I was greatly amused when a gentleman, who asked my opinion of him, told me upon hearing it, that he would not advise me to state it freely in America, "for they would not bear it." The theatre was really not a bad one, though the very poor receipts rendered it impossible to keep it in high order; but an annoyance infinitely greater than decorations indifferently clean, was the style and manner of the audience.
Men came into the lower tier of boxes without their coats; and I have seen shirt sleeves tucked up to the shoulder; the spitting was incessant, and the mixed smell of onions and whiskey was enough to make one feel even the Drakes' acting dearly bought by the obligation of enduring its accompaniments.