✓ the too obvious resemblance, however fatal to his hopes, was not mortifying to his self love and when he looked at the marginal notes which that great master of the art had traced in his manuscript, he was disposed to consider them as the infallible predictions of his future fame.

But although his sanguine temper resisted disappointment, it did not render him insensible to impartial criticism; and his second comedy (called the Reconciliation) being disapproved by his brother, was not offered to acceptance. With his usual good sense, he perhaps perceived that something more than brilliant dialogue and stage effect was necessary to render legitimate comedy perfectly acceptable to the public. Perhaps, too, he was ready to acknowledge, with characteristic candour, that he possessed not the native richness of humour which makes satire relishing, and wit delightful. His retired habits were

unfavourable to the study of men and manners; even the enviable faculty of abstraction, to which he had so often owed immunity from care and impertinence, might somewhat blunt that exquisite quickness of perception, that rapid yet comprehensive glance of observation, which is so eminently useful to a comic writer. The most active powers of invention require to be renovated and sustained by materials drawn from living nature-Small individualities are the feeders of imagination. To produce original combinations, it is necessary that the dramatic poet should often quit his retreat, and digress from the or dinary track of his mental associations. He must descend familiarly to the haunts of men, to make himself perfectly acquainted with the various classes of society, and acquire the language of universal nature! Without such occasional aberrations, some fresh and vivid touches must always be wanting to his delineations; and even the

happiest productions will leave the impression of effort or suggest the suspicion of imitation.

In the versatility of his powers he had another motive for deserting comedy, which gave no scope to the picturesque imagery that floated on his fancy, or to the elevated moral sentiments that flowed spontaneously from his nervous pen. This original propensity to lyrical poetry was not extinguished: and, like Frank in the Jovial Crew, when he heard the nightingale, he was unable to resist the invocation to poetry and nature. But before he quitted the more busy haunts of the drama, he produced the farce of The Undertaker, which, though never performed, has always been admired by theatrical readers. This was the last piece to which he prefixed a prologue, and the manner in which it was produced illustrates those habits of abstraction which attended him through life. In

a country walk with his brother and their school friend, he suddenly became inattentive to the conversation, and followed their steps in total silence. Mr. James Tobin at length demanding the subject of his reveries, he confessed he had been engaged in composing the finishing lines to he prologue of a farce, which he meant to read to them the following day.

With scenes like these the author of to-night
Means not your gentle senses to affright.
An Undertaker of no common sort,

His only pride it is, to make you sport:

Who humbly hopes, whilst others of the trade
By funerals furnished have their fortunes made,
A modest Undertaker here might thrive,

Whose wish it is to keep you all alive.

But the prologue he had been eager to finish was not put in requisition, for the happy moment of representation was never destined to arrive.

Like many other good writers, Tobin confessed the difficulty he experienced in con

structing a good dramatic fable; but this incapacity appears to have proceeded rather from caution than slowness of invention. Knowledge often diminishes confidence; and it was from his quick perception of the dangers incident to the undertaking, that he so rarely hazarded the introduction of a perfectly novel situation; justly considering it safer to occupy some neglected station, which experience had shown to be tenable.

He had long observed that tragi-comedy, or, as Schlegel calls it, the old romantic drama, was the antient and permanent favorite of the English stage, and from the brilliant example of the younger Colman, was encouraged to assume the liberty of our elder writers, in alternating prose with blank verse. For the foundation of his drama, he chose those old feudal times, so congenial with romantic events, and naturally requiring the agency of music