nary individual, which are extracted from a memoir of him that appeared in The Times newspaper, must be added a passage or two from a celebrated “ Estimate of his Character and Talents" in the same journal. "Mr. Sheridan in his happiest days never effected any thing by steady application. He was capable of intense, but not of regular study. When public duty or private difficulty urged him, he endured the burden as if asleep under its pressure. At length, when the pain could be no longer borne, he roused himself with one mighty effort, and burst like a lion through the toils. There are reasons for believing that his constitutional indolence began its operation upon his habits at an early age. His very first dramatic scenes were written by snatches, with considerable intervals between them. Convivial pleasures had lively charms for one whose wit was the soul of the table; and the sparkling glass the medium of social intercoursehad no small share of his affection. These were joys to be indulged without effort: as such they were too well calculated to absorb the time of Mr. Sheridan, and sooner or later to make large encroachments on his character. His attendance in parliament became every year more languid the vis inertiæ more incurablethe plunges by which his genius had now and then extricated him in former times less frequent and more feeble. We never witnessed a contrast much more melancholy than between the brilliant and commanding talent displayed by Mr. Sheridan throughout the first regency discussions, and the low scale of nerve, activity, and capacity, to which he seemed reduced when that subject was more recently agitated in parliament. But indolence and intemperance must banish reflection, if not corrected by it; since no man could support the torture of perpetual self-reproach. Aggravated, we fear, by some such causes, the naturally careless temper of Mr. Sheridan became ruinous to all his better hopes and prospects. Without a direct appetite for spending money, he thought not of checking its expenditure. The economy of time was as much disregarded as that of money. All the arrangements, punctualities, and minor obligations of life were forgotten, and the household of Mr. Sheridan was always in a state of nature. His domestic feelings were originally kind, and his manners gentle: but the same bad habits seduced him from the house of commons, and from home; and equally injured him as an agent of the public good, and as a dispenser of private happiness. It is painful, it is mortifying, but it is our sacred duty, to pursue this history to the end. Pecuniary embarrassments often lead men to shifts and expedients-these exhausted, to others of a less doubtful colour. Blunted sensibility-renewed excesses-loss of cast in society-follow each other in melancholy succession, until solitude and darkness close the scene. "It has been made a reproach by some persons, in lamenting Mr. Sheridan's cruel destiny, that his friends' had not done more for him. We freely and conscientiously declare it as our opinion, that had Mr. Sheridan enjoyed ten receiverships of Cornwall instead of one, he would not have died in affluence. He never would have attained to comfort or independence in his fortune. A vain man may become rich, because his vanity may thirst for only a single mode of gratification; an ambitious man, a bon vivant, a sportsman, may severally control their expenses; but a man who is inveterately thoughtless of consequences, and callous to reproof-who knows not when he squanders money, because he feels not those obligations which constitute or direct its uses such a man it is impossible to rescue from destruction. We go further we profess not to conjecture to what individuals the above reproach of forgotten friendships has been applied. If against persons of illustrious rank, there never was a more unfounded accusation. Mr. Sheridan, throughout his whole life, stood as high as he ought to have done in the quarters alluded to. He received the most substantial proofs of kind and anxious attachment from these personages; and it is to his credit that he was not insensible to their regard. If the mistaken advocates of Mr. Sheridan were so much his enemies as to wish he had been raised to some elevated office, are they not aware that even one month's active attendance out of twelve he was at times utterly incapable of giving? But what friends are blamed for neglecting Mr. Sheridan? What friendships did he ever form? We more than doubt whether he could fairly claim the rights of friendship with any leader of the whig administration. We know that he has publicly asserted Mr. Fox to be his friend, and that he has dwelt with much eloquence on the sweets and enjoyments of that connection; but it has never been our fortune to find out that Mr. Fox had, on any public or private occasion, bound himself by reciprocal pledges. Evidence against the admission of such ties on his part may be drawn from the well-known anecdotes of what occurred within a few days of that statesman's death. The fact is, that a life of conviviality and intemperance seldom favours the cultivation of those better tastes and affections which are necessary to the existence of intimate friendship. That Mr. Sheridan had as many admirers as acquaintances, there is no room to doubt; but they admired only his astonishing powers; there never was a second opinion or feeling as to the unfortunate use which he made of them. "Never were such gifts as those which Providence showered upon Mr. Sheridan so abused-never were talents so miser 1336. ably perverted. The term greatness' has been most ridiculously, and, in a moral sense, most perniciously applied to the character of one who, to speak charitably of him, was the weakest of men. Had he employed his matchless endowments with but ordinary judgment, nothing in England, hardly any thing in Europe, could have eclipsed his name, or obstructed his progress." May they who read, and he who writes, To waste the sins of act, of thought, FLORAL DIRECTORY. Nasturtium. Tropocolum majus. To the Summer Zephyr. Zephyr, stay thy vagrant flight, That hangs on the breast of the lily white In yonder pasture growing; Or to revel 'mid roses and mignionette sweet; Or wing'st thou away some fair lady to meet? If so, then, hie thee away, bland boy; Thou canst not engage in a sweeter employ. "From kissing the blue of yon bright summer sky, To sport in the beams of her lovely eye, July 8. St. Elizabeth, Queen of Portugal, ▲. D. A. D. 903. New Churches. Every one must have been struck by the great number of new churches erected within the suburbs of the metropolis, and the novel forms of their steeples; yet few have been aware of the difficulties encountered by architects in their endeavours to accommodate large congregations in edifices for public worship. Sir Christopher Wren experienced the inconvenience when the fifty churches were erected in queen Anne's time. He says, "The Romanists, indeed, may build large churches; it is enough if they hear the murmur of the mass, and see the elevation of the host, but ours are to be fitted for auditories. I can hardly think it practicable to make a single room so capacious with pews and galleries, as to hold above two thousand persons, and both to hear In hot weather walk slowly, and much as possible in the shade. The St. as When fatigued recline on a sofa, and avoid all drafts. Eat sparingly of meat, and indeed of every thing. Especially shun unripe fruits, and be moderate with cherries. Strawberries may be safely indulged in; with a little cream and bread they make a delightful supper, an hour or two before retiring to rest. If the frame be weakened by excessive heat, a table spoonfull of the best brandy, thrown into a tumbler of spring water, becomes a cooling restorative; otherwise spirits should not be touched. Spring water, with a toast in it, is the best drink. No. 30. The preface to a fine uncut copy of captain Starkey's very rare "Memoirs," penes me, commences thus: "The writers of biographical accounts have always prepared articles, which at once, when held forth to the public, were highly entertaining, useful, and satisfactory." This particular representation, so directly opposed to general experience, is decisively original. Its expression bespeaks an independence of character, rendered further conspicuous by an amiable humility. "I am afraid," says the captain," I shall fall infinitely short in commanding your attention; none, on this side of time, are perfect, and it is in the nature of things impossible it should be otherwise." He trusts, "if truth has any force," that " patience and candour" I will hear him out. Of captain Starkey then it may be said, that "he knew the truth, and knowing dared maintain it." The captain declares, he was born of honest and poor parents, natives of Newcastle upon Tyne, at the Lying-in Hospital, Brownlow-street, Long-acre, London, on the 19th of December, 1757. My infantile years," he observes, "were attended with much indisposition." The nature of his "indisposition" does not appear; but it is reasonable to presume, that as the "infantile years" of all of "living born," at that time, were passed in "much indisposition," the captain suffered no more than fell to him in the common lot. It was then the practice to afflict a child as soon as it breathed the air, by forcing spoonfulls of " unctuousities" down its throat, " oil of sweet almonds and syrup of blue violets." A strong cotton swathe of about six inches in width, and from ten to twenty feet in length, was tightly rolled round the body, beginning under the arm pits and ending at the hips, so as to stiffly encase the entire trunk. After the child was dressed, if its constraint would allow it to suck, it was suckled; but whether suckled or not, the effect of the swathing was soon visible; its eyes rolled in agony, it was pronounced convulsed, and a dose of "Dalby's Carminative" was administered as "the finest thing in the world for convulsions." With "pap" made of bread and water, and milk loaded with brown sugar, it was fed from a pap-boat," an earthen vessel in the form of a butterboat. If " these contents" were not quickly "received in full," the infant was declared "not very well," but if by cry ing, kicking of the legs, stiffening of the back, and eructation from the stomach, it resisted further overloading, then it was affirmed that it was "troubled with wind," and was drenched with "Daffy's Elixir," as "the finest thing in the world for wind." As soon as the "wind" had " a little broken off, poor thing!" it was suckled again, and fed again; being so suckled and fed, and fed and suckled, it was wonderful if it could sleep soundly, and therefore, after it was undressed at night, it had a dose of "Godfrey's Cordial," as "the finest thing in the world for composing to rest." If it was not composed" out of the world before morning, it awoke to undergo the manifold process of being again over-swathed, overfed, "Dalby'd, Daffy'd, and Godfrey'd " for that day; and so, day by day, it was put in bonds, " carminativ'd, elixir'd, and cordial'd," till in a few weeks or months it died, or escaped, as by miracle, to be weaned and made to walk. It was not to be put on its legs "too soon," and therefore, while the work of repletion was going on, it was not to feel that it had legs, but was kept in arms, or rather kept lolling on the arm, till ten or twelve months old. By this means its body, being unduly distended, was too heavy to be sustained by its weak and comparatively diminutive sized limbs; and then a go-cart" was provided. The go-cart was a sort of circular frame-work, running upon wheels, with a door to open for admission of the child; wherein, being bolted, and the upper part being only so large as to admit its body from below the arms, the child rested by the arm pits, and kicking its legs on the floor, set the machine rolling on its wheels. This being the customary mode of "bringing children up" at the time of captain Starkey's birth, and until about the year 1790, few were without a general disorder and weakness of the frame, called "the rickets." These afflicted ones were sometimes hump-backed, and usually bowshinned, or knock-kneed, for life, though to remedy the latter defects in some degree, the legs were fastened by straps to jointed irons. From the whole length portrait at the head of this article, which is copied from an etching by Mr. Thomas Ranson, prefixed to captain Starkey's Memoirs," ," it is reasonably to be conjectured that the captain in his childhood had been ricketty and had worn irons. Mr. Ranson has draped the figure in a long coat. Had this been done to conceal the inward inclination of the captain's knees, it would have been creditable to Mr. Ranson's delicacy; for there is a sentiment connected with the meeting of the knees, in the owner's mind, which he who knows human nature and has human feelings, knows how to respect; and no one either as a man or an artist is better acquainted with the "humanities" than Mr. Ranson. But that gentleman drew the captain from the life, and the captain's coat is from the coat he actually wore when he stood for his picture. There is a remarkable dereliction of the nose from the eyebrows. It was a practice with the race of nurses who existed when the captain's nose came into the world, to pinch up that feature of our infant ancestors from an hour old, till "the month was up." This was from a persuasion that nature, on that part of the face, required to be assisted. A few only of these ancient females remain, and it does not accord with the experience of one of the most experienced among them, that they ever depressed that sensible feature; she is fully of opinion, that for the protrusion at the end of the captain's, he was indebted to his nurse "during the month;" and she says that, "it's this, that makes him look so sensi ble." According to captain Starkey's narrative,when "learning to walk alone," he unfortunately fell," and so hurt his left arm, that it turned to a white swelling as large as a child's head." The captain says, my poor parents immediately applied to two gentlemen of the faculty, at the west end of the town, named Bloomfield and Hawkins, physicians and surgeons to his then reigning majesty, king George the Second, of these kingdoms, who declared that, they could not do any more than cut it off; unto which my tender parents would not consent.' A French surgeon restored to him the use of his arm, and gave him advice "not to employ it in any arduous employment." "I, therefore," says the captain, as my mother kept a preparatory school, was learned by her to read and spell." At seven years old he was " put to a master to learn to write, cipher, and the classics." After this, desiring to be acquainted with other languages, he was sent to another master, and "improved," to the pleasure of himself and friends, but was "not so successful" as he could wish; for which 66 he says, “I am, as I ought to be, thankful to divine providence." With him he stayed, improving and not succeeding, till he was fourteen, "at which age," says the captain, "I was bound apprentice to Mr. William Bird, an eminent writer and teacher of languages and mathematics, in Fetter-lane, Holborn." After his apprenticeship the captain, in the year 1780, went with his father, during an election, to Newcastle-upon-Tyne, his parents' native town. Returning to London, he, in 1784, went electioneering again to Newcastle, having left a small school in London to the care of a substitute, who managed to reduce twenty-five scholars to ten, although he was paid a weekly allowance." Being " filled with trouble by the loss," he was assisted to a school in Sunderland; but," the captain remarks, as the greatest success did not attend me in that, I had the happiness and honour of receiving a better employment in the aforesaid town of Sunderland, from that ever to be remembered gentleman, William Gooch, esq., comptroller of the customs, who died in the year 1791, and did not die unmindful of me: for he left me in his will the sum of 10., with which, had I been prudent enough, and left his employ immediately after his interment, I might have done well; but foolishly relying on the continuance of my place, continued doing the duties for nine months without receiving any rem uneration; and at last was obliged to leave, it not being the pleasure of the then collector, C. Hill, esq., that I should continue any longer in office." Great as the sensation must have been at Sunderland on this important change "in office," the fact is entirely omitted in the journals of the period, and might at this time have been wholly forgotten if the captain had not been his own chronicler. On his forced "retirement" he returned to Newcastle, willing to take "office" there, but there being no opening he resolved once more to try his fortune in London. For that purpose he crossed the Tyne-bridge, with two shillings in his pocket, and arriving at Chester-le-street, obtained a subscription of two gui neas, by which, "with helps and hopes," and "walking some stages," and getting "casts by coaches," he arrived in the metropolis, where he obtained a recommendation back, to the then mayor of Newcastle. Thither he again repaired, and presented his letter to the mayor, who |