sented. My doubts and consequent inquiries introduced a conversation interesting in the extreme. The brilliancy of genius flashed occasionally like a meteor, while, on the other hand, the indication of the most generous feelings of humanity, enveloped in tones of sorrow, pierced deeply to my soul. At times playful, witty, and satirical, she seemed to court the same, or similar, effusions from me; but on my attempting any thing like levity, she checked me. She permitted me not to touch her hand, even to assist her in crossing the streets, during a promenade of nearly two hours. At last, having, chance-directed, as I thought, wandered to the pathway opposite to my lodgings, she stopped suddenly, and thus addressed me: "There are your lodgings: as you are a gentleman, leave me without saying a word, and enter them without looking back to see which way I may go. I left her and obeyed.

I entered my parlour, and sat down, reflecting on the occurrences of the day, and the singularities of the evening; trying to analyze the extraordinary character with whom I had passed two hours. Every primary idea that occurred was opposed by a contradictory one. She could not be this, because she was that; nor that, because she was this. Imprudence and prudence, like

action and reaction were equal and opposite. The admired flights of genius were contrasted by remarks of the most trifling nature. To the solemnity of moral doctrine succeeded the instantaneous burst of mirth. and humour, of which, however, sterling wit generally closed the scene. Her sudden pauses and momentary changes from one subject to another of a totally different nature, yet with apparent ready sense, made my

judgment waver in attempting to decide whether affectation, cunning, or an absolute detrition of reason prevailed.

Of her face and person I knew nothing. Her general character appeared of a very eccentric inclination, and, perhaps, from a consideration that Nature might have been less indulgent to her in some respects than in others, I owed the feelings of commiseration which I at this time experienced on her account.

After this period our correspondence continued as before, and our meetings were frequent, still under such restrictions that I never saw her face. She would walk with me on the usual parade, but never permit me to touch her hand. One evening she asked me if would enter a dark street to which we had accidentally strolled, one with which I was not acquainted. I declined at first, but afterwards attended her. When we had proceeded a few yards, I observed that it would be pleasanter to return to the lighted streets. "Stop," said she, "I have a present for you." I stopped. A few lamps glimmered here and there, and as she drew a something from her bosom, I perceived it glitter. I started back, and asked her what she meant. She desired me not to be alarmed. I told her I was not; which, by the by, was not altogether truth; but that I did not like to proceed further, and would return. "Stop, I insist," said she: then addressing me by name, she added, "I had hoped by this time you would have been in heaven. You are not fit for this world, and I intended to have sent you to a better." I thanked her; but requesting the privilege of staying a little longer in this, I hastily bade her good night, and withdrew.

A few days afterwards I was paying a morning visit to two young ladies of high respectability in Edinburgh, one of whom is since dead: the other I had the pleasure of seeing a few years ago near Newyork, where I believe she now resides; when the door being opened, two ladies were ushered in. My back was then towards the door, but on my friends' rising to receive them, I heard a well known voice, and, turning round, beheld the little witch that had enchanted me, at least I judged so from her voice and conduct. She was introduced to me by name and without disguise, and being in the presence of well tried friends, the mystery was by degrees developed. She was a young lady of respectable family and character; but having an inclination to be poetic, and wishing some assistance, had adopted the mode above related to procure it. I had now the pleasure of attending her free from all restraint, and when I had left Edinburgh she published a volume of poems with considerable success, soon after which, actuated by "that principle of coalescence which, by the irresistible decision of the excellent Former of our nature, bends the sexes towards each other, and is ordained to unite them inseparably in person, affection, and interest," she married, and is now, I hope, happy.

One of the most pleasant occurrences during this happy winter, was my connexion with the American students in this city. I have before mentioned the pains taken by my father to instil into my mind an early partiality to America. He succeeded; and on an acquired intimacy with the students, they honoured me

* Wilson's Medical researches.

with admission to their society, consisting of a certain number, each one representing a state in the union, and I was proposed as a representative for Vermont, when it was first admitted as a state into the union. The fruits of this connexion have been here, as they were in Edinburgh, most delightfully experienced; for my favourable reception in Annapolis I am indebted to Dr. Shoaff and colonel Tayloe, who was at the same college at Cambridge-but I am anticipating. I must return to Edinburgh.

Towards the conclusion of the winter season, Mr. Jackson requested me, if convenient, to join his summer arrangements, when the theatre would be opened for a few weeks only, during the Leith races, as he expected to engage Mrs. Siddons. I was rejoiced at the opportunity of performing in concert with that highly celebrated character, and cheerfully accepted his invitation. Mr. Bruce, whose kindness to me had not abated during the winter, had invited me to spend the intermediate time with him; and I did so, highly to my satisfaction and improvement.

I returned to Edinburgh to perform my engagement; and was proceeding in it, when the circumstances occurred, of which I cannot give a better account than by copying a portion of Mr. Jackson's History of the Scottish Stage, and the pamphlet I published on the occasion, with the addition of two or three notes.

Mr. Jackson introduces the subject in the following

manner:

"That season closed; the next passed away in harmony, peace, and profit; and at no period were my prospects of advantage fairer, or my hopes of prosperity

E e

wound up to a higher pitch, than at the commencement of the summer of 1788. I may safely say,

"'Twas not in mortals to command success,"

but every mode was practised to deserve it.

"Besides the first female luminary of the age, I had also a local favourite. Mr. Fennell, who had appeared in the principal tragedy parts during the winter, was prevailed upon to continue in Scotland, purposely as a counterpart to Mrs. Siddons. Several new pieces were in readiness, and such preparations made, as in all probability must have ensured a most brilliant season. But, alas! who can control his fate? The demon of discord broke in upon our repose, confounded our operations, and rendered nugatory our most earnest endea

yours.

"An offence was taken by some gentlemen at an expression imprudently uttered by Mr. Fennell, which, like a spark among combustibles, pervaded the minds of the audience, and attracted the attention of the town.

"The result was, the ruin of Mr. Fennell; and proved to the manager not only a considerable pecuniary loss, but the means, likewise, of affixing upon him undeserved blame, for supposed incidents in that transaction, that never existed, or in which he never in any shape interfered. For,

"Slander will leave spots, where malice finds none."

"As I am now unavoidably brought forward, with respect to the theatrical events of my management in general, at the particular request of some of my nearest friends, I am persuaded to subjoin a recital of that part of the business of eighty-eight, in which I was personally concerned: