"his intemperance; on the contrary, if alarm "for his own interest had any share in the mo"tives for his animosity, I was perfectly ready

to purchase his peace of mind and good will "by the sacrifice of those emoluments, which "might eventually accrue from my nights, in 66 any such way as might relieve his anxiety, "and convince him of my entire disinterested"ness in commencing author; adding in con"clusion, that he might assure himself he "would never hear of me again as a writer of "operas." This I can perfectly recollect was the purport of my letter, which I dictated in the belief of what was reported to me as an apology for his conduct, and entirely ascribed his hostility to his alarm on the score of interest, and not to the evil temper of his mind.This was the interpretation I put upon what Mr. Bickerstaff had written of me, and my real motive for what I wrote to him: I understood he was wholly dependant on the stage, and that the necessity of his circumstances made him bitter against any one, who stept forward to divide the favour of the public with him. To insult his poverty, or presume on my advantage over him in respect of circum

stances, was a thought, that never found admission to my heart, nor did Bickerstaff himself so construe my letter, or suspect me of such baseness; for Mr. Garrick afterwards informed me that Bickerstaff shewed this letter to him as an appeal to his feelings of such a nature, as ought to put him to silence; and when Mr. Garrick represented to him, that he also saw it in that light, he did not scruple to confess that his attack had been unfair, and that he should never repeat it against me or my productions. I led him into no further temptations, for whilst he continued to supply the stage with musical pieces, I turned my thoughts to dramas of another cast, and we interfered no longer with each other's labours.

One day as I was leaving the theatre after a rehearsal of the Summer's Tale, I was met by Mr. Smith, then engaged at Covent Garden, and whom I had known at the University, as an Under-graduate of Saint John's College. We had of course some conversation, during which he had the kindness to remonstrate with me upon the business I was engaged in, politely saying, that I ought to turn my talents to compositions of a more in

dependent and a higher character; predicting to me, that I should reap neither fame nor satisfaction in the operatic department, and demanding of me, in a tone of encouragement, why I would not rather aim at writing a good comedy, than dabbling in these sing-song pieces. The animating spirit of this friendly remonstrance, and the full persuasion that he predicted truly of the character and consequences of my undertaking then on foot, made a sensible impression on my mind, and in the warmth of the moment I formed my resolution to attempt the arduous project he had pointed out. If my old friend and contemporary ever reads this page, perhaps he can call to mind the conversation I allude to; though he has not the same reasons to keep in his remembrance this circumstance, as I have, who was the party favoured and obliged, yet I hope he will at all events believe that I record it truly as to the fact, and gratefully for the effects of it. As his friend, I have lived with him, and shared his gentlemanly hospitality; as his author, I have witnessed his abilities, and profited by his support; and though I have lost sight of him ever since his retirement from

the stage, yet I have ever retained at heart an interest in his welfare, and as he and I are too nearly of an age to flatter ourselves, that we have any very long continuance to come upon the stage of this life, I beg leave to make this public profession of my sincere regard for him, and to pay the tribute of my plaudits now before he makes his final exit, and the curtain drops.

Before I had ushered my melodious nonsense to the audience, I had clearly discovered the weakness of the tame and lifeless fable, on which I had founded it: there were still some scenes between the characters of Henry and Amelia, which were tolerably conceived, and had preserved themselves a place in the good opinion of the audience by the simplicity of the style, and the address of Mrs. Mattocks: and Mr. Dyer, to whom those parts were allotted. It was thereupon thought adviseable to cut down the Summer's Tale to an afterpiece of two acts, and exhibit it in the next season under the title of Amelia. In this state it stood its ground, and took its turn with very tolerable success "behind the foremost and be"fore the last." Simpson published the music

in a collection, and I believe he got home pretty well upon the sale of it. The good judges of that time thought it good music, but the better judges of this time would probably think it good for nothing.

In the summer of this year, as soon as the Board of Trade broke up for their usual recess, I went with my wife and part of my young family to pay my duty and fulfil my promise to my father and mother in Ireland. They waited for us in Dublin, where my father had taken the late Bishop of Meath's house in Kildare-Street, next door to the Duke of Leinster's. When we had reposed ourselves for a few days, after the fatigues of a turbulent passage, we all set off for Clonfert in the county of Galway. Every body, who has travelled in Ireland, and witnessed the wretched accommodation of the inns, particularly in the west, knows that it requires some forecast and preparation to conduct a large family on their journey. It certainly is as different from travelling in England as possible, and not much unlike travelling in Spain; but with my father for our provider, whose appointments of servants and equipage were ever excellent, we