retired from active service, and was struggling with the cares attendant on a large family and half pay, found it expedient to re-enter the service and exchange with an officer at Gibraltar; and in the July of 1731 he parted from his family, and embarked for Spain. During the three weary years of separation which ensued, David was the comfort and solace of his afflicted mother, the sunshine of his home, and the regular correspondent of his absent father. His letters at this period are not only remarkable for their affectionate tone, but for a tact which was really surprising in one so young. With a delicacy and consideration, which it would be well for other domestic letterwriters to imitate, he chronicled every pleasant circumstance of the humble life at home, concealing, as far as possible, all that could add to his father's anxieties, and throwing the halo of his own hopeful temperament round the difficulties and troubles he was obliged to disclose. It is easy to imagine that these tender, boyish letters, were preserved by the grateful father, and they form not the least interesting portion of the Garrick correspondence. As we follow his career, his amiability becomes more and more apparent, and an incident connected with one of his schoolfellows contrasts oddly with his undeserved reputation of stinginess. Being one of ten children depending for support and education on Captain Garrick's slender pay, David, while at school, was necessarily obliged to practice the most rigid economy, which was unfortunately mistaken for parsimony. One of his schoolmates by the name. of Simpson, the son of wealthy parents, in after life turned out badly. He was idle and dissipated, and, marrying in opposition to his father's wishes, was dismissed in anger from his father's house. In an extremity of poverty and distress, he wrote to ask assistance of Garrick, of whom he had not thought since their school days, but who was now at the zenith of his fortune and fame. Garrick not only sent him a hundred pounds immediately, but wrote to the offended father, begging forgiveness for the son. His first effort was rebuffed with rough discourtesy. But David possessed a sweet persuasive eloquence which could not be resisted long; and he who, at school, had been twitted with 'miserliness,' had the satisfaction of relieving the

wants of the prodigal, and reconciling his father to him. His life abounds with incidents which attest the goodness of his heart; and to this he united a gay, genial temperament, which made him a delightful companion even as a child. His wit, high spirits, and wonderful powers of mimicry, afforded infinite amusement to his comrades at school, and afterwards ripened into the finest dramatic talent of his, or probably of any, age. His first essay as an actor, and indeed as a theatrical manager, occurred when he was not more than eleven, thus affording an instance of the child being father to the man. Having formed his young companions into a dramatic corps, he undertook to give a representation of Farquhar's 'Recruiting Officer.' He assumed the part of 'Sergeant Kite' himself, and, casting the other characters with tact and judgment, patiently drilled his little company until they were perfect in their parts. Samuel Johnson, who, though seven years his senior, and approaching manhood, had already formed a friendship for 'Little Davy,' was applied to for a prologue. For some reason, which does not appear, this request was refused; but it did not prevent the brilliant success of the play. Garrick, especially, performed his part admirably, and Mr. Fitzgerald tells us, that 'The spirit, vivacity, and perfect ease of the young player, were long remembered in Lichfield.' Thus it was that in a large room,' before a Lichfield audience, among whom were his delighted father and mother, the first laurels of the English Roscius were won, and we doubt if he ever tasted a purer pleasure than the triumphs of that day.

In the interval which elapsed between this period and his grand début on the boards of a London theatre, he experienced the usual chances and changes of a life without fortune. Not long after the youthful dramatic entertainment, he was sent to Lisbon to enter the establishment of an uncle, who was a rich wine merchant in that place. But this arrangement did not suit him, and we find him soon again at Lichfield. Then we read how his parents struggled to give him a liberal education, and how he became the pupil of Johnson, who taught him Latin and Greek, and laid the foundation of his refined classical taste. We learn how necessary it was for him to earn a living,

and yet how difficult it was to find a profession suited to his peculiar character; and it is interesting to note, that, during the whole period of his childhood and youth, the natural bent of his genius evinced itself by his passionate love of the drama. This taste may have given some uneasiness to his friends, as calculated to unsettle his habits; but it does not seem to have occurred to them, that there was any danger of a gentleman's son adopting the profession of a player. Then comes the pleasant and well-known story of how, in the spring of 1738, Johnson and himself went up to London together, with one horse between them, on which they rode and tied.' Johnson, with his heavy tragedy of 'Irene' in his pocket, to seek his fortune in the great metropolis; and Garrick, whose profession, after much planning and debating, had been decided on, to prepare himself for the bar. David had not been in town more than a month, when he was recalled to Lichfield by the death of his father; and then it became necessary indeed for him to begin life in earnest. But it was not easy for one of his mercurial temperament to confine himself to the tedious intricacies of the law, and he abandoned his legal studies after pursuing them for little more than a year.

Fortunately, his rich Lisbon uncle, who died soon after he lost his father, had left him a legacy of a thousand pounds; and, joining this little capital with that of his elder brother, Peter, they embarked in trade as wine merchants. During the three years of its existence, there was a curious contrast between the languishing business of the firm and the gay career of its junior partner. Indeed, there must have been a severe struggle between interest, which would have chained David to the dull routine of trade, and inclination which led him to become an enthusiastic follower of the tragic and the comic muse. It is not wonderful that the wine business did not prosper. David soon became a constant attendant of the theatres, and intimate with all the prominent actors; a frequenter of green-rooms and coffee-houses, where his ready wit, his good humor, and elegant manners, made him an especial favorite. A perilous distinction for one so young and so impressionable in an age of great license. But we do not find that

his pleasures ever degenerated into dissipation. He seems to have escaped, in a remarkable degree, the snares which beset a gay life about town. Even in the tumultuous heyday of youth, he possessed the good sense and moderation, which enabled him to preserve his dignity and self-respect throughout a most varied and eventful life. There is no more bright and pleasant, or well-defined picture, shining out from the dim perspective of the past, than that of David, with his small, graceful figure, his expressive face and luminous dark eyes, enjoying to the full all the pleasures that youth, health, and active mind and spirits, could bestow; and yet so tempering his enjoyments with modesty and refinement, that he never overstepped the boundaries of propriety. It cannot be doubted, that he would have become a player at this time, if he had followed the inclinations of his heart. But the profession was held in even lower esteem then than now, and such a step would have alienated many of his friends, and added another sorrow to the heart of his widowed mother, who, at Lichfield, was grieving her life away for the loss of her husband. This gracious self-sacrifice was characteristic of his loving nature and it did not go unrewarded. In after years, he said, his mother's restraining influence had been of great benefit to him; for had he gone on the stage then, before his powers were fully matured, he would have certainly failed.

Meanwhile, behind the scenes there lurked a greater danger for the young wine merchant, than the adoption of what, in those days, was considered a degrading profession. The charming Peg Woffington, of whom Mr. Reade has given us such a spirited and faithful portrait in his romance, had just made her début at Drury Lane, and was throwing the glamour of her genius and beauty round all who came within her influence. Besides the personal attractions of this young girl, she was only twenty-two when David first met her, and she was, probably, the only performer on the stage at that time who deserved the name of artist. She alone had the courage to discard the stiff movements, and the solemn, sing-song intonations then in vogue, and take nature for her model. There were, undoubtedly, great defects in her acting; but she was natural, graceful,

irresistible. It is not surprising that David fell a victim to the thousand witcheries of this fascinating creature. His enthusiasm for art, no less than his admiration of womanly grace and beauty, was gratified, and he fell in love. Christopher North, in reviewing Mrs. Jameson's Characters of Passion and Imagination, says, 'Blood heat is now reduced to the temperature of milk and water in a dairy at peep of dawn, and not a pulse in male or female wrist beats more than sixty to the minute.' But this was not so in David Garrick's day; he, at least, knew what it was to love with the ardor of a young Romeo, and Peg seemed as willing to be won as Juliet. But, fortunately, this love episode was as brief as it was tender. David would have willingly married the enchanting young actress; but her's was a roving disposition, and her fickleness did not promise well for happiness. He was reserved for a better fate. In spite of all her follies, one can scarcely help a feeling of tenderness for the laughter-loving Woffington, with her beautiful face, her kind heart, and easy temper. Of the many stories told of her, there is one which illustrates several of her characteristics. Lord Darnley, one of her admirers, had made her promise that during his unavoidable absence from town, she would not see Garrick. With a caution, which evinced some distrust on the part of the noble gentleman, he had her watched, and on his return charged her with having broken her promise. But Peg declared she had not seen David for an age. Lord Darnley then told her he could prove she had seen him that very morning. Well, and is not that an age?' archly and tenderly replied the actress.

In this day of glaring decadence of the stage, it is interesting to read of Garrick's advent, not only as a great actor, but as a reformer, at a time when public taste was, if possible, more vitiated than now. Even Peg Woffington, who had the genius and grace to act the lady in high comedy, owed her popularity chiefly to her dashing impersonation of 'Sir Harry Wildair,' and to what Mr. Fitzgerald calls, ‘a weary succession of breeches parts;' a taste which has further developed itself into the entire sans culotteism of our day. After the death of his mother, who'did not long survive her husband, David's love for the profession