nion; of this truth he survived to give, and I to receive, proofs, that could not be mistaken. I had known him too intimately not to know, in the very moment, of which I have been speaking, that what he was by accident, he was not by nature. I am persuaded he was formed to be a good man, he might also have been a great one: his mind was large, his spirit active, his ambition honorable: he had a carriage noblè and imposing; his first approach attracted notice, his consequent address ensured respect: if his talents were not quite so solid as some, nor altogether so deep as others, yet they were brilliant, popular and made to glitter in the eyes of men splendor was his passion; his good fortune threw opportunities in his way to have supported it; his ill fortune blasted all those energies, which should have been reserved for the crisis of his public fame; the first offices of the state, the highest honours, which his sovereign could bestow, were showered upon him, when the spring of his mind was broken, and his genius, like a vessel overloaded with treasure, but far gone in decay, was only precipitated to ruin by the very freight, that in its

better days would have crowned it with pros perity and riches.

I now addressed a letter to the Earl of Hillsborough, tendering my humble services in Mr. Sedgewicke's room, and was accepted without hesitation. Thus I entered upon an office, the duties of which consisted of taking minutes of the debates and proceedings at the Board, and preparing for their approbation and signature such reports, as they should direct to be drawn up for his Majesty, or the Council, and, on some occasions, for the Board of Treasury, or Secretaries of State. It was at most an office of no great labour, but as Mr. Pownall, now actual Secretary, was much in the habit of di gesting these reports himself, my task was greatly lightened, and I had leisure to address myself to other studies, and indulge my pro pensities towards composition in whatever way they might incline me to employ them.

Bickerstaff having at this time brought out his operas of Love in a Village and The Maid of the Mill with great success, some friends persuaded me to attempt a drama of that sort, and engaged Simpson, conductor of the band

at Covent Garden and a performer on the hautboy, to compile the airs and adapt them to the stage. With very little knowledge of stage-effect, and as little forethought about plot, incident, or character, I sate down to write, and soon produced a thing in three acts, which I named the Summer's Tale, though it was a tale about nothing and very indifferently told; however, being a vehicle for some songs, not despicably written, and some of these very well set, it was carried by my friends to Beard, then manager of the theatre, and accepted for representation. My friends, who were critics merely in music, took as little concern about revising the drama, as I took pains in writing it: they brought me the music of old songs, and I adapted words to it, and wove them into the piece, as I could. I saw however how very ill this plan was adapted for any credit, that could be expected to accrue to me from my share in it, and to mark how little confidence I placed in the composition of the drama, I affixed as motto to the title page the following words-Voa, et præterea nihil.Abel furnished the overture, Bach, Doctor Arne and Arnold supplied some original com

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positions; Beard, Miss Brent, (then in high reputation) Mr. and Mrs. Mattocks and Shuter filled the principal characters.. It was performed nine or ten nights to moderate houses without opposition, and very deservedly without much applause, except what the execution of the vocal performers, and some brilliant compositions justly obtained; but even with these it was rather over-loaded, and was not sufficiently contrasted and relieved by familiar airs.

The fund for the support of decayed actors being then recently established by the company of Covent Garden theatre, I appropriated the receipts of my ninth night to that benevolent institution, which the conductors were pleased to receive with much good will, and have honoured me with their remembrance at their annual audits ever since.

The Summer's Tale was published by Mr. Dodsley, and as I received no complaint from him on account of the sale, I hope that liberal purchaser of the copy had no particular reason to be discontented with his bargain,

Bickerstaff, who had established himself in the public favour by the success of his operas

above-mentioned, seemed to consider me as an intruder upon his province, with whom he was to keep no terms, and he set all engines of abuse to work upon me and my poor drama, whilst it was yet in rehearsal, not repressing his acrimony till it had been before the public; when to have discussed it in the spirit of fair criticism might have afforded him full matter of triumph, without convicting him of any previous malice or personality against an unoffending author. I was no sooner put in possession of the proofs, against him, which were exceedingly gross, than I remonstrated by letter to him against his uncandid proceeding; I have no copy of that letter; I wish I had preserved it, as it would be in proof to show that my disposition to live in harmony with my contemporaries was, at my very outset as a writer for the stage, what it has uniformly been to the present hour, and that, although this attack was one of the most virulent and unfair ever made upon me, yet I no otherwise appealed against it, than by telling him, “That "if his contempt of my performance was real"ly what he professed it to be, he had no need "to fear me as a rival, and might relax from