bled to enliven my pages, with even a few extracts from that portion of their correspondence, which, as I have just men tioned, has fallen into my hands. There is in the letters of Mr. Halhed, a fresh youthfulness of style, and an unaffected vivacity of thought, which I question whether even his witty correspondent could have surpassed. As I do not, however, feel authorised to lay these letters before the world, I must only avail myself of the aid which their contents supply, to wards tracing the progress of his literary partnership with Sheridan, and throwing light on a period so full of interest in the life of the latter.

Their first joint production was a farce, or rather play, its three acts, called "Jupiter," written in imitation of the bur letta of Midas, whose popularity seems to have tempted into its wake a number of these musical parodies upon heathen fable. The amour of Jupiter with Major Amphitryon's wife, and Sir Richard Ixion's courtship of Juno, who substitutes Miss Peggy Nubilis in her place, form the subject of this ludicrous little drama, of which Halhed furnished the bur lesque scenes, while the form of a rehearsal, into which the whole is thrown, and which, as an anticipation of "The Critic" is highly curious, was suggested and managed entire ly by Sheridan. The following extracts will give some idea of the humour of this trifle; and in the character of Simile the reader will at once discover a sort of dim and shadowy pre-existence of Puff

Simile. Sir, you are very ignorant on the subject,-it is the method most in vogue.

"O'Cul. What! to make the music first, and then make the sense to it afterwards!

"Sim. Just so.

"Monop. What Mr. Simile says is very true, gentlemen; and there is nothing surprising in it, if we consider now the general method of writing plays to scenes.

"Cul. Writing plays to scenes !—Oh, you are joking.

"Monop. Not I, upon my word. Mr. Simile knows that I have frequent. ly a complete set of scenes from Italy, and then I have nothing to do but to get some ingenious hand to write a play to them.

"Sim. I am your witness, Sir. Gentlemen, you perceive you know Nothing about these matters.

"O'Cul. Why, Mr. Simile, I don't pretend to know much relating to these affairs, but what I think is this, that in this method, according to your principles, you must often commit blunders.

"Sim. Blunders! to be sure I must, but I always could get myself out of them again. Why, I'll tell you an instance of it.-You must know I was once a journeyman sonnet-writer to Signor Squallini. Now, his method, when seized with the furor harmonicus, was constantly to make me sit by his side, while he was thrumming on his harpsichord, in order to make extempore verses to whatever air he should beat out to his liking. I remember, one morning, as he was in this situation, thrum, thrum, thrum, (moving his fingers as if beating on the harpsichord, ) striking out something prodigiously great, as he thought, Hah!' said he,-hah! Mr. Simile, thrum, thrum, thrum, by gar here is vary fine,-thrum, thrum, thrum, write me some words directly.'-I durst not interrupt him to ask on what subject, so instantly began to describe a fine morning.

"Calm was the land and calm the seas,

And calm the heaven's dome serene,

Hush'd was the gale and hush'd the breeze,
And not a vapour to be seen."

I sang it to his notes,-'Hah!' upon my vord vary pritt,—thrum, thrum, thrum,-stay, stay,-thrum, thrum,-Hoa? upon my vord, here it must be an adagio,—thrum, thrum,-oh! let it be an Ode to Melancholy,'

Monop. The Devil!-there you were puzzled sure.

"Sim. Not in the least,-I brought in a cloud in the next stanza, and matters, you see, came about at once.

"Monop. An excellent transition.

"O'Cul. Vastly ingenious indeed.

"Sim. Was it not? hey! it required a little command,—a little presence of mind, but I believe we had better proceed.

"Monop. The sooner the better,-come, gentlemen, resume your scats. "Sim. Now for it. Draw up the curtain, and (looking at his book) enter Sir Richard Ixion,-but stay,-zounds, Sir Richard ought to overhear Jupiter and his wife quarrelling,-but, never mind,-these accidents have spoilt the division of my piece.-So enter Sir Richard, and look as cunning as if you had overheard them. Now for it, gentlemen,-you can't be too attentive.

Enter Sir RICHARD IXION completely dressed, with bag, sword, &c.

"Ix. 'Fore George, at logger-heads,—a lucky minute,

'Pon honour, I may make my market in it.

Dem it, my air, address, and mien must touch her,

Now out of sorts with him,-less God than butcher.
O rat the fellow,-where can all his sense lie,

To gallify the lady so immensely?

Ah! le grand bête qu'il est !-how rude the bear is!
The world to two-pence he was ne'er at Paris.

Perdition stap my vitals,-now or never

I'll niggle snugly into Juno's favour.

Let's see,-(looking in a glass) my face,-toll loll-'twill work upon her.
My person-oh, immense, upon my honour.

My eyes,-oh fie,-the naughty glass it flatters,-
Courage,-Ixion flogs the world to tatters.

[Exit Ixion.

"Sim. There is a fine gentleman for you,-in the very pink of the mode, with not a single article about him his own,-his words pilfered from Magazines, his address from French valets, and his clothes not paid for.

"Macd. But pray, Mr. Simile, how did Ixion get into heaven?

"Sim. Why, Sir, what's that to any body?-perhaps by Salmoneus's Brazen Bridge, or the Giant's Mountain, or the Tower of Babel, or on Theobald's bull-dogs, or-who the devil cares how ?-he is there and that's enough."

"Sim. Now for a Phoenix of a song.

Song by JUPITER.

"You dogs, I'm Jupiter Imperial,

King, Emperor, and Pope ætherial,

Master of th' Ordnance of the sky.

"Sim. Z-ds, where's the ordnance? Have you forgot the pistol? (to the Orchestra.)

"Orchestra. (to some one behind the scenes.) Tom, are not you prepared?

"Tom. (from behind the scenes.) Yes, Sir, but I flash'd in the pan a little out of time, and had I staid to prime, I should have shot a bar too late. "Sim. Oh then, Jupiter, begin the song again.-We must not lose our ordnance.

"You dogs, I'm Jupiter Imperial,

King, Emperor, and Pope ætherial,

Master of th' Ordnance of the sky; &c. &c.

[Here a pistol or cracker is fired from behind the scenes. "Sim. This hint I took from Handel.-Well, how do you think we go on? “O'Cul. With vast spirit,—the plot begins to thicken.

"Sim. Thicken! aye,-'twill be as thick as the calf of your leg presently. Well, now for the real, original, patentee Amphitryon. What, ho, Amphitryon! Amphitryon!-'tis Simile calls.-Why, where the devil is he?

Enter SERVANT.

Monop. Tom, where is Amphitryon?

"Sim, Zounds, he's not arrested too, is he?

"Serv. No, Sir, but there was but one black eye in the house, and he is waiting to get it from Jupiter.

"Sim. To get a black eye from Jupiter,-ob, this will never do. Why, when they eat, they ought to match like two beef-eaters.

According to their original plan for the conclusion of this farce, all things were at last to be compromised between Jupiter and Juno Amphitryon was to be comforted in the birth of so mighty a son; Ixion, for his presumption, instead of being fixed to a torturing wheel, was to have been fixed to a vagrant monotroche, as knife-grinder, and a grand chorus of deities (intermixed with "knives, scissors, pen-knives to grind," set to music as nearly as possible to the natural cry,) would have concluded the whole.

That habit of dilatoriness, which is too often attendant upon genius, and which is for ever making it, like the pistol in the scene just quoted, "shoot a bar too late," was, through life, remarkable in the character of Mr. Sheridan,and we have here an early instance of its influence over him. Though it was in August, 1770, that he received the sketch of this piece from his friend, and though they both looked forward most sanguinely to its success, as likely to realize many a dream of fame and profit, it was not till the month of May in the subsequent year, as appears by a letter from Mr. Ker to Sheridan, that the probability of the arrival of the manuscript was announced to Mr. Foote. "I have dispatched a card, as from H. H., at Owen's Coffee-house, to Mr. Foote, to inform him that he may expect to see your dramatic piece about the 25th instant."

Their hopes and fears in this theatrical speculation are very naturally and livelily expressed throughout Halhed's letters, sometimes with a degree of humorous pathos, which is interesting as characteristic of both the writers" the thoughts," he says, " of 2001. shared between us are enough to bring the tears into one's eyes." Sometimes, he sets more moderate limits to their ambition, and hopes that they will, at least, get the freedom of the play-house by it. But at all times he chides, with good-humoured impatience, the tardiness of his fellow-labourer in applying to the managers. Fears are expressed that Foote may have made other engage ments, and that a piece, called " Dido," on the same mytho logical plan, which had lately been produced with but little success, might prove an obstacle to the reception of theirs.

At Drury Lane, too, they had little hopes of a favourable hearing, as Dibdin was one of the principal butts of their ridicule.

The summer season, however, was suffered to pass away without an effort; and in October, 1771, we find Mr. Halhed flattering himself with hopes from a negotiation with Mr. Garrick. It does not appear, however, that Sheridan ever actually presented this piece to any of the managers; and indeed it is probable, from the following fragment of a scene found among his papers, that he soon abandoned the ground. work of Halhed altogether, and transferred his plan of a rehearsal to some other subject, of his own invention, and, therefore, more worthy of his wit. It will be perceived that the puffing author was here intended to be a Scotchman.

"M. Sir, I have read your comedy, and I think it has infinite merit, but, pray, don't you think it rather grave?

❝S. Sir, you say true; it is a grave comedy. I follow the opinion of Longinus, who says comedy ought always to be sentimental. Sir, I value a sentiment of six lines in my piece no more than a nabob does a rupee. I hate those dirty, paltry equivocations, which go by the name of puns, and pieces of wit, No, Sir, it ever was my opinion that the stage should be a place of rational entertainment; instead of which, I am very sorry to say, most people go there for their diversion: accordingly, I have formed my comedy so that it is no laughing, giggling piece of work. He must be a very light man that shall discompose his muscles from the beginning to the end.

"M. But don't you think it may be too grave ?

"S. O never fear; and as for hissing, mon, they might as well hiss the common prayer-book; for there is the viciousness of vice and the virtuous. ness of virtue in every third line,

"M. I confess there is a great deal of moral in it; but, Sir, I should imagine if you tried your hand at tragedy————

"S. No, mon, there you are out, and I'll relate to you what put me first on writing a comedy. You must know I had composed a very fine tragedy about the valiant Bruce, I showed it my Laird of Mackintosh, and he was a very candid mon, and he said my genius did not lie in tragedy: I took the hint, and, as soon as I got home, began my comedy,"

We have here some of the very thoughts and words, that afterwards contributed to the fortune of Puff; and it is amusing to observe how long this subject was played with by the current of Sheridan's fancy, till at last, like "a stone of