not only for his own faults, but for those of his intended rib too! Mercy on us! If he should fancy there are no faults on either side to be answerable for, he is the more to be pitied; a few weeks may destroy the illusion on both sides: and the worst of it is, that your wisest men are often the greatest fools on these occasions. So that all we can do is to shut our eyes, and jump in the dark! A man of good sense and true courage, will as an experienced Fox hunter, show his horse the leap he is about to encounter; and will look over the hedge himself before he suffers his horse to attempt it. But the fool and coward, not having courage to look forward, shuts both his eyes, blunders over, and falls into a stone quarry, or down a precipice! It is proverbial that marriage is generally a leap in the dark! and in certain cases, dark or light, is much the same thing. We none of us see far on these occasions: as the maggot bites, it is a mere matter of whim or fancy. Every man has his humour, or as Sterne says, every ene has his hobby-horse! or as Dr. Franklin expresses it, every man has his whistle, and lucky he whose whistle is his wife! But the latter cannot so easily be whistled off! happy he who never would so whistle! This whistle calls me back to Barnstaple, where I was (for the second time) on the way to be married. My Reverend Friend, Mr. Dyer, was ready at the appointed time; and so for once was I, which was rather strange; for the church being at least two miles I went on horse-back the horse knew the road, so that I threw the bridle reins on his neck, and let him pick out the path that best pleased him. The church was my guide,

and the good horse carried me without any guide at all, to the side of the churchyard, where he began munching some good grass that he found there. I shook hands with the parson, while the clerk told me that all were ready. Mr. Lloyd, one of my performers, was there ready to perform the part of the father, and to give me in wedlock, the hand of his daughter. He did so, and Mr. Dyer, though he stammered very much in common conversation, he seldom stammered while preaching in the pulpit; and not even once while reading the marriage ceremony. No batchelor, or master of arts, no well-bred, well-read nor dignified Dean, nor even their graces, the two Archbishops, could have gone through the ceremony with greater grace than he did. Mr. Dyer, the Reverend Gentleman who on this occasion officiated, could not accompany us home, having some parish business pending: but as we knew he generally came into Barnstaple on the market day, we asked him to dine on the following Friday. He accepted the invitation: my friend Syle was invited to join us they both came, so we had the good company of both a few bottles of good wine we placed on the table, and the good parson drank to our good health, with his best blessing into the bargain. We felt obliged, and to this moment we are sincerely grateful for the favors he conferred upon us. He made me the husband of a good wife, and a clever woman: and she has made me the father of a fine family. I have reason to be satisfied with all; from my eldest son, by my first wife, to my youngest by my present

one:

and as to my daughters, it would not become me to speak what I think of them. The public voice has already allotted to each of them a degree of talent, which is duly appreciated and liberally encouraged. Their private worth is acknowledged by all who know them, and is most truly gratifying to the best feelings of both their parents.

I must now speak more particularly of my old friend and partner, Mr. James Shatford. He was a native of Gloucester, or of some place in that neighbourhood; I rather think of a place called Painswick. He was the son of a Doctor Shatford, a gentleman of great professional talent and good sense: much esteemed, not only for his abilities as a Physician, but for his rich humour, pleasant wit, strict integrity, and high companionable qualifications. These, all these, and more than these his son James inherited, and frequently displayed in such a manner, as will not easily be for gotten by his friends, or any of those persons, who, by accident, ever fell into his company.

I have often heard him speak of his family, and of the intelligent circle of friends and acquaintance, with which his father was honored, beloved and admired. Since the death of the son, (the Mr. Shatford that I knew) I have heard a story that may afford amusement; and as his father was a party concerned, I shall endeavour to relate it in as simple a manner as possible.

I remember hearing my friend Shatford often speak of the circumstances, persons and parties, which are now to be introduced; but the particulars had nearly escaped my memory till reminded of them, as well as of many other matters, by a friend who some few years ago resided at Barnstaple.

The friend I mean is Mr. Tanner, a very intelligent gentleman, and a most respectable Solicitor, who, I believe, at present resides at Exeter: Mr. Tanner, when a boy, lived in Gloucestershire, and very often heard the following circumstances related as facts; generally credited by all the best families who knew the parties concerned. The story is this. There was a gentleman, at the time alluded to, living near Gloucester, of the name of Hyett: he was of a pleasant turn of mind, and had a number of jovial friends: Doctor Shatford was one of them; and at Squire Hyett's house, the Doctor and his friends were always welcome, and their company at all times anxiously solicited. This gentleman had on his estate apleasant retreat, or summer house, called Pan's Lodge: It stood nearly covered by trees, in the most retired part of a wood: at the distance of a hundred yards it could scarcely be seen. Notwithstanding the gloom that surrounded the place, within it was found every comfort that could possibly be desired by the parties who frequented it. Squire Hyett was truly spirited, gay, and liberal; Doctor Shatford, and the whole of his friends were much of the same way of thinking, and had similar tastes, inclinations, and propensities. Twice a week-generally on a Wednesday