his life to come ever for an instant interrupted or diminished.

Shortly after this it came to his knowledge that there had been a treaty between Mr. Pownall and me for his resignation of the place of Secretary, and he asked me what had passed; I told him how it stood, and what the conditions were, that my superior in office expected for the accommodation. I had not yet mentioned this to him, and probably never should. He said he would take it into his own hands, and in a few days signified the king's pleasure that Mr. Pownall's resignation was accepted, and that I should succeed him as Secretary in clear and full enjoyment of the place, without any compensation whatsoever. Thus was I, beyond all hope and without a word said to me, that could lead me to expect a favour of that sort, promoted by surprise to a very advantageous and desirable situation. I came to my office at the hour appointed, not dreaming of such an event, and took my seat at the adjoining table, when, Mr. Pownall being called out of the room, Lord George turned round to me and bade me take his chair at the bottom of the table, announcing to the Board his ma

answer,

jesty's commands, as above recited, with a positive prohibition of all stipulations. When I had endeavoured to express myself as properly on the occasion, as my agitated state of spirits would allow of, I remember Lord George made "That if I was as well pleased upon "receiving his majesty's commands, as he was "in being the bearer of them, I was indeed very happy."-If I served him truly, honestly and ardently ever after, till I followed him to the grave, where is my merit? How could I do otherwise?

The conflict in America was now raging at its height; that was a business out of my office to be concerned in, and I willingly pass it over; but it was in my way to know the effects it had upon the anxious spirit of my friend, and very much it was both my wish and my endeavour by every means in my capacity to be helpful at those hours, which were necessary for his relaxation, and take to my share as many of those burthensome and vexatious concerns, as without intrusion upon other people's offices I could relieve him from. All that I could I did, and as I was daily with him, and never out of call, I reflect with comfort, that

there were occasions when my zeal was not unprofitably exerted for his alleviation and repose. I might say more, for those were trying and unquiet times. It is not a very safe or enviable predicament to be marked out for a known attachment to an unpopular character, and be continually under arms to turn out and encounter the prejudices of mankind. There is a middle kind of way, which some men can hit off, between doing all and doing nothing, which saves appearances and satisfies easy consciences; but some consciences are not so easily satisfied.

I had now four sons at Westminster-school boarding at one house, and my two daughters coming into the world, so that the accession to my circumstances, which my promotion in office gave me, put me greatly at my ease, and enabled me to press their education with advantage. My eldest son Richard went through Westminster with the reputation of an excellent school scholar, and I admitted him of Trinity College, but in one of his vacations having prevailed with me to let him volunteer a cruize with Sir Charles Hardy, then commander of the home fleet, the rage of service

seized him, and by his importunity I may say in the words of Polonius he wrung from me my slow leave to let him enter himself an ensign in the first regiment of foot-guards. This at once gave fire to the train, and the three remaining heroes breathed nothing but war my second boy George took to the sea, and sailed for America; my third Charles enrolled himself an ensign in the tenth, and my youngest William disposed of himself as my second had done, and also took his departure for America under the command of the late Sir Richard Hughes.

I had been dispossessed of my delightful residence at Tyringham, near to which Mr. Praed, the present possessor, has now built a splendid mansion, and I had taken a house at Tetworth in Bedfordshire to be near my kind and ever honoured friend Lady Frances Burgoyne, sister to Lord Halifax. Here I passed the summer recesses, and in one of these I wrote the Opera of Calypso, for the purpose of introducing to the public the compositions of Mr. Butler, then a young man, newly returned from Italy, where he had studied under Piccini, and given early proofs of his genius. He

passed the summer with me at Tetworth, and there he wrote the music for Calypso in the style of a serious opera. Calypso was brought out at Covent Garden, but that theatre was not by any means possessed of such a strength of vocal performers, as have of late years belonged to it. Mrs. Kennedy in the part of Telemachus, and Leoni in that of Proteus, were neither of them very eminently qualified to grace the action of an opera, yet as that was a consideration subordinate to the music, it was to them that Mr. Butler addressed his chief attention, and looked up for his support. I believe I may venture to say that more beautiful and original compositions were never presented to the English stage by a native master, though I am not unmindful of the fame of Artaxerxes; but Calypso, supported only by Leoni and Mrs. Kennedy, did not meet success proportioned to its merit, and I should humbly conceive upon the same stage, which has since been so powerfully mounted by Braham, Incledon and Storace, it might have been revived with brilliant effect. Why Mr. Butler did not publish his music, or a selection at least of those airs, which were most applauded, I cannot tell; but