was as embarrassed as himself, recommended the lady to go to the conjurer in the Old Bailey, whom he represented as a man of uncommon skill and penetration. He employed another friend to personate the wise man, who depicted Sir Francis at full length, and described the time when, the place where, and the dress in which, she would see him. The lady was so struck with the coincidence of all the circumstances, as to marry the broken-down prodigal in a few days. An ample reward signalised the ingenuity of the adviser, and enabled him once more to face the world.

It was in spring 1747 that Foote commenced, in the Haymarket theatre, his career as the sole entertainer of an audience; and thus was the criginator of that kind of amusement which Dibdin, Mathews, and others afterwards practised with success. The piece, written by himself, and styled the Diversions of the Morning, consisted chiefly of a series of imitations of well-known living persons. It met with immense applause, and soon raised the jealousy of the two great theatres of the metropolis, through whose intervention his career was stopped by the Westminster justices. In this dilemma, he took it upon him to invite the public one evening TO TEA: multitudes came; and while all were wondering what he would do, he appeared before them, and mentioned that, ‘as he was training some young performers for the stage, he would, while tea was getting ready, proceed, if they had no objection, with his instructions.' This, it may easily be conceived, was nothing else than a plan for taking off the players who were persecuting him, at the same time that he evaded the consequences of their rancour. His invitations to tea brought splendid audiences and much money, but were interrupted by his receipt of a large legacy, which kept him for five years in the condition of an idle voluptuary. In 1753, he once more became connected with the stage, for which he produced a comedy in two acts, entitled Taste, which experienced great success, and was followed by a similar production, entitled The Author. He had here

caricatured, under the name of Cadwallader, a Welsh gentleman of his acquaintance, who was noted for pride of pedigree. Honest Mr Aprice, for that was his real name, was present at the play several times, without suspecting that, in Cadwallader, he saw another self; but at length, when he found everybody calling him by that name, he began to perceive the joke, which enraged him so much, that he applied to the Lord Chamberlain for an interdict against the play, which was granted. It is rather odd, that the wit himself was characterised by the same foible, and not less blind to it than Mr Aprice. Some of his friends knowing this, resolved to make it the subject of a jest at his expense. As they were laughing at persons piquing themselves on their descent, one of them slily observed that, however people might ridicule family pretensions, he believed there never was a man well descended who was not proud of it. Foote, snapping the bait, replied: 'No doubt, no doubt; for instance, now, though I trust I may be considered as far from a vain man, yet, being descended from as ancient a family as any in Cornwall, I am not a little proud of it, as indeed, you shall see I may be ;' and accordingly ordered a servant to bring the genealogical tree of the family, which he began to elucidate with all the absurdity that he so felicitously ridiculed in Cadwallader.

The spirit of these and other early compositions of Foote, was to seize some point of fashionable folly, and expose it in a few scenes of broad humour, with the addition of the mimetic representation, by the author himself, of some noted real character. There was little of plot or contrivance in the pieces, but strong caricature painting, and ludicrous incidents, which rendered them extremely diverting. He took a somewhat higher aim when, in 1760, he burlesqued Methodism in the Minor; a play which excited some angry controversy, but proved attractive to the public. His Mayor of Garratt, produced in 1763, was the nearest approach he made to legitimate comedy its merits have kept it in vogue as one of the

stock-pieces of the British stage down almost to the present times.

In 1757, Foote paid a visit to Dublin, along with Tate Wilkinson, and the united mimicry of the two attracted large audiences. On this occasion, Wilkinson mimicked even his companion, who, with the usual thinskinnedness of the professed jester, did not relish the joke, and said it was the only attempt of his friend which did not succeed. At the end of this year, we find Foote engaged in a totally new speculation in the Irish capital. He set up as a fortune-teller, in a room hung with black cloth, and lighted by a single lantern, the light of which was scrupulously kept from his face; he succeeded so far, it is said, as to realise on some occasions L.30 a day, at half-a-crown from each dupe. In 1759, when out at elbows in London, he paid his first visit to Scotland, borrowing L.100 from Garrick to defray the expenses of his journey. He was well received in Edinburgh society, and by the public in general. Yet the Scots did not escape his sarcasm. One day, an old lady who was asked for a toast, gave Charles III.-meaning, of the Pretender.

course,

'Of Spain, madam?' inquired Foote.

'No, sir,' cried the lady pettishly—' of England.'

'Never mind her,' said one of the company; 'she is one of our old folks who have not got rid of their political prejudices.'

Oh, dear sir, make no apology,' cried Foote: 'I was prepared for all this, as, from your living so far north, I suppose none of you have yet heard of the Revolution.'

He afterwards paid several visits to Scotland, where, during 1771, he was manager of the Edinburgh theatre for a season, clearing L.1000 by the venture. He found that the Scotch, with all their gravity, have some little drollery amongst them. Robert Cullen, son of the eminent physician, and a noted mimic, and the Laird of Logan, not less distinguished as a wit, became his intimate friends. Another of the native humorists encoun

tered him in a somewhat extraordinary way. This was Mr M'Culloch of Ardwell, in the stewartry of Kirkcudbright, whose sayings are to this day quoted in his native province. In travelling from his country residence to Edinburgh with his own carriage, Mr M'Culloch spent, as usual, a night in the inn at Moffat, and next day proceeded to ascend the terrible hill of Erickstane, which connects two great districts of Scotland, and forms decidedly the most difficult and dangerous piece of road in the whole country. A deep snow had fallen during the night, and Mr M'Culloch, after proceeding three or four miles, was compelled to turn back. When he regained his inn, he found a smart carriage, with a gentleman in the inside, standing at the door, while the horses were getting changed; this he ascertained to be the equipage of Mr Foote, the celebrated comedian. The Laird of Ardwell immediately went up to the panel, and wrote upon it in chalk the words

'Let not a single foot profane

The sacred snows of Erickstane.'

Foote, surprised to see a punch little man writing on his carriage, came out to read the inscription, which amused him so much, that he immediately went and introduced himself to the writer. Further explanations then took place, which readily convinced him of the impossibility of proceeding further that day; and the consequence was, that the two gentlemen resolved to make themselves as happy as possible where they were. The snow lay long; the terrors of Erickstane relented not for a fortnight; but the viands and liquors of the inn were good, and the conversation of the two stormdelayed gentlemen was like knife sharpening knife. In short, they spent the fortnight together in the utmost good-fellowship, and were friends ever after.

One other trait of the Scottish wit which came under Foote's attention may be noticed. At the close of an unsuccessful piece of law-business, when the agent of the opposite party called to get payment of the expenses,

observing that that person was prepared for a journey, the comedian inquired where he was going.

"To London,' was the answer.

'And how do you mean to travel?' asked the

manager.

'On foot, replied the wily agent, significantly depositing the cash in his pocket at the same moment.

As Foote was always ready to seize on any passing folly, either of the public or of individuals, as a means of attracting audiences, it is not surprising that the hoax of the Cock Lane Ghost, which took place in 1762, furnished him with a theme. Samuel Johnson being one of those who inclined to believe in the statements of the deceiving party, Foote resolved to bring that august character upon the stage. Johnson, dining one day at the house of Mr Thomas Davies, the bookseller, was informed of the design entertained by Foote, and knowing very well the kind of remonstrance to which alone the mimic was accessible, he asked his host if he knew the common price of an oak-stick. Being answered sixpence, he said: "Why, then, sir, give me leave to send your servant to purchase me a shilling one. I'll have a double quantity, for I am determined the fellow shall not take me off with impunity.' Foote soon received information of this avowal of the Herculean lexicographer, and was further told, that it was Johnson's intention to plant himself in the front of the stage-box on the first night of the proposed play, and if any buffoon attempted to mimic him, to spring forward on the stage, knock him down in the face of the audience, and then appeal to their common feelings and protection. It is almost unnecessary to add, that Johnson's character was omitted. Johnson was not an admirer of Foote. He, very absurdly, we think, termed his mimicry not a power, but a vice; and alleged that he was not good at it, being unable, he said, to take off any one unless he had some strong peculiarity. He allowed, however, that he had wit, fertility of ideas, a considerable extent of informa tion, and was 'for obstreperous broad-faced mirth without