way, and was so struck with the ease and proportion of the lineaments, that he inspired the figure with life. A contest now arose; the Earth claimed the image, as having furnished the materials that composed it; Affliction cried out, 'It is mine; your materials were of no value till I traced the form:' when Jupiter preferred his claim, as having called it into life and motion. The gods having heard every argument the claimants could urge, pronounced this solemn decree: Man shall be the property ' of Affliction during his life; when he ceases to breathe, the materials of which his frame is 'composed shall return to earth, and his spirit to 'Jupiter that gave it'."

My memory begins to fail me; I now recollect that I have some more of the Doctor's juvenile productions, but I am afraid I shall fatigue you.

Author. On the contrary, Sir, you afford me a great deal of pleasure.

Sheridan. Stay, let me see :-the paper was written in imitation of a dialogue in Petrarch, one of my friend's favourite writers; he had him all by rote.

Author. An additional proof of his taste; Petrarch may be justly ranked in the first class

of

of those that revived the learning of the ancients.

Sheridan. He was the morning-star of Italian poetry.

Author. And one of the brightest in the constellation that afterwards shone in that indulgent climate,

"The willing captive of Aonian toils."

The Stolen Wife.

Sorrow. A young fellow has stolen my wife. Reason. Young men are prone to that species of robbery. I am forry to obferve that in this age I have very little influence over the mind of the youth of both sexes; I wish I may have some influence over yours at present, for I see you are very much affected. You must consider this matter. Was she young and handsome?

Sorrow. Both.

Reason. Two great temptations. You married her for her beauty?

Sorrow. I did.

Reason. You should have reflected, that the season of youth and beauty is short, and that both fly off together: the woman that won your affections, was sensible, no doubt, that she could win those of another; and some of that frail sex

are

are as ambitious of lovers after they have entered into the married state as before it. Was she fond of dress?

Sorrow. Passionately; she would spend hours together at her toilet.

Reason. Every time, she looked in her glass, she thought she saw the face of an angel in it, and perhaps she thought that an angel ought not to employ her time in domestic affairs. Was she fond of romances ?

Sorrow. She would sit up all night reading

them.

Reason. Then of course she slept all day?

Sorrow, A considerable part of it.

Reason. Then, as to her temper ?

Sorrow. Capricious.

Reason. Extravagant?

Sorrow. My purse was at her command.

Reason. And she exhausted it?

Sorrow. Frequently:

Reason. Now let us cast up the account, and see what you have lost, and what you have gained. In the first place, you married a woman for her beauty, a short-lived flower; and she married you for your wealth, which could scarce gratify her vanity and extravagance; you thought you took an angel to your arms; but the result has proved that there are fallen angels. Instead of consulting your hap

piness,

piness, she poisoned it instead of pouring the balm of consolation into your mind when it was afflicted, she poured a torrent of words into your ears: she consulted her glass oftener than she consulted your countenance; her nights were spent in reading romances, so that her head was filled with imaginary adventures, and heroes that never existed: such a defenceless castle was easily besieged. Why, if you view all this with an indifferent eye, instead of a loss, you have gained. If a physician cured you of a tertian fever, you would reward him with thanks and money, and what should be the reward of that physician who has rid you of a quotidian fever? Your mind will be no longer distracted with the caprices of a woman, whose temper was not even to be regulated by the weathercock, and whose tongue would run for hours together without winding up; you will be no longer besieged by a train of milliners and perfumers. Little you know how much you are indebted to him that carried off such a disease. If he was your friend, pity him; if he was your enemy, rejoice. You are now restored to your health, and a little time. and reflection will restore you to your senses. Sorrow. I can't restrain my tears.

Reason. If carried away by force, forgive her ; but if willingly?

Sorrow

Sorrow. Willingly: she stole off with her gallant in the dead of night.

Reason. Many a man would pray for such a night, and hail the annual return of it with feasting and music.

Sorrow. My unhappy wife went off willingly. Reason. If she loved you, she would not have done so ; how then can you weep for a woman that is unworthy of your affection?

Sorrow. My unhappy wife!

Reason. Truly she will be unhappy, and he that stole her more so; repentance quickly treads on the heels of unlawful appetite. But you should remember, that this is an injury kings could not escape; for Masinissa stole away the wife of Syphax, and Herod stole away the wife of Philip, and Menelaus had two wives, and they were both stolen.

Author. I remember the dialogue in Petrarch; and I think the master would not be displeased, if living, with the additions of the pupil. Perhaps there is not a paffage in the Italian, that may be resorted to with more practical advantage.

Sheridan. Why, it is certain, that the youth of this country steal away young women, with their own consent, a circumstance almost excusable.

Author. There are many apologies for the indiscretions