his death, been ascertained, upon authority which cannot be controverted, that he was, for safety, carried away from the field, on the day of the battle of the Boyne, in 1690. Indeed there exist letters of his to his daughter, dated so far back as 1750, stating his incapacity to chew solid food, and deploring the necessity of living upon spoon-meat, on account of the loss of his teeth. From circumstances which the writer of this remembers to have heard from Mr. Hodgkinson, he suspected that the age of that gentleman was underrated; and therefore took some pains to collect the best information respecting it. The result of his inquiry has justified his suspicion. There are in America several persons who remember Hodgkinson at different periods of his theatrical life, from whose united opinions it appears most likely that he was born in 1765. If this estimate be correct (it cannot be far from it) it must have been early in the year 1781 when he took his flight from Manchester, and reached the city of Bristol.

He stopped at a wagon-house in Broad-mead, and was, by the wagoner, introduced to the landlord, who soon showed, by the conduct of himself and his family, that he was taught to consider our hero as a curiosity. They treated him with exemplary kindness, however. The landlord, though a rough homespun man, bred up in low life, manifested, not only tenderness and humanity, but a degree of delicacy that could not have been expected. A grown up young man, a son of his, the very evening he arrived, took the liberty, upon the wagoner's report, of asking our adventurer to sing him a song, for which the father reprimanded him, and turning to John, said "Doant thee, doant thee sing for noabody, unless thee likest it. If dost, thee'll have enow to do, I can tell thee." This was one of the little incidents of his life upon which he was accustomed to advert with pleasure; and often has he, with much good humour, contrasted it with the rude and indelicate conduct of persons of great pride and importance. No man that ever lived required less entreaty to oblige his convivial friends with his charming singing. Of the families where he was treated with friendship and free hospitality he delighted to promote the happiness, and to them his song flowed cheerfully: but he clearly distinguished from those, and has more than once, in the confidence of friendship, spoken with feeling and considerable asperity, of the indelicate conduct of some who, aspiring higher, ought to have known better. "It is indeed," said he to the writer of this, "a trial which few tempers could stand, but which I have often been obliged to undergo. A person whom I have met, perhaps at the table of a real friend, asks me to dine with him: I find a large company assembled upon the occasion, and hardly is the cloth taken away, when mine host, with all the freedom of an established acquaintance, without the least delicacy, or even common feeling, often without the softening circumstance of asking some other person to begin, or even of beginning himself, calls upon Mr. Hodgkinson for a song."—"Then why do you comply? why dont you refuse the invitation? or, if you cannot, why dont you pretend to be hoarse?" "I will tell you why: because, in a place of such limited population as this, the hostility of a few would spread through the whole; and not only mine host, but all those whom he had invited to Hodgkinson's song, would fret at their disappointment, and their fret would turn to an enmity which I should feel severely in empty benches at my benefit." "It is not that, Hodge," said this writer; "but, as Yorick said to corporal Trim, because thou art the very best natured fellow in the world." It was upon an occasion of this kind Hodgkinson related to the writer the incident with his Bristol landlord, observing upon it, that there were many who washed down turtle dinners with champaigne and burgundy that might derive profit and honour from imitating the natural politeness and delicacy of that man whom, if they had seen, they would have called a low fellow or a boor.

To please the honest wagoner, and one or two fellow-travellers, however, H. did sing several songs in the evening, and as at that time he had not learned to drink, they thought themselves the more indebted to him, and the landlord and his wife put him to sleep with their son, who kept him awake the greater part of the night, asking him the most ridiculous questions respecting his parentage, where he came from, whither he was going, &c. and concluded with expressing his firm belief, because Sally, the housemaid, had told him so, that he, Hodgkinson, was some great man's son, who had run away from school, for fear of a flogging: "for you know," said he, "that none but the great volks can afford to be great singers and musicianers."

Resolved to take leave of his kind friend the wagoner, who was to set off on his return early in the morning, our young adventurer was up betimes, and went to the stable to look for him. As he stood at the door, a tall young stripling, dressed in what they call a smock frock, with a pitchfork in his hand, came up and, taking his station a little on one side, began to view him from head to foot, scratching his head and grinning. Our youth was startled and blushed, but said nothing, and affected firmness; yet he imagined he had seen the man's face before. The arrival of the wagoner afforded him a seasonable relief, and he returned with him into the inn kitchen, where breakfast was got ready and John was invited to sit down and eat. He had hardly swallowed two mouthfuls when he of the pitchfork, having left his hat and his instrument aside, entered, and, taking his station at the dresser, continued to gaze upon him, still scratching his pate and looking significantly. Our adventurer was sadly disconcerted, but concealed his emotions so that they were not observed, till breakfast was over, when the rustic took an opportunity to beckon to him with an intimation to follow him. They proceeded to the stable, where after carefully looking out of the back door to see that nobody was near them, the rustic without any preface said, "I'll tell thee what—thee art Jacky Meadowcroft!—I know thee as well as I do that horse that stonds there before my eyes; so don't you go vor to tell loies about it, or to deny it." Hodgkinson who, though he might be startled, was not to be intimidated, asked the fellow sturdily, and with a dash of stage loftiness, what it was to him who he was, or what his name; upon which the other rather abashed said, "No harm I assure thee Jack, nor hurt would I do thee for ever so much: but I fear thee be'est upon no good: now don't think hard of me, but do thee tell me, what prank art thee upon here?—where dids't thee get those foin clothes?"—To this our adventurer gave no answer but a look of haughty resentment, putting his arms akimbo, elevating his head and neck, and finishing with a contemptuous sneer of the right barn-buskin kind. "Nay, now," said the other, "I am sure of it. Yes, Jack Meadowcroft thee hast left thy honest parents, and mixed with the strolling fellers—the play actors,—a pize upon them, with their tricks, making honest folks laugh to pick their pockets."

Our youth now saw that it would be useless to persevere in concealment, and said to the other with a good-humoured cheerful air, "Who are you who know me so well, and seem so much concerned about me?" "My name be Jack as well as thine," replied the honest-hearted bumpkin. Hodgkinson then discovered that the young man had been for sometime a stable-boy at Manchester, and was in the habit of going to his mother's house with the gentlemen of the long whip; but being elder than John had not been much noticed by him. H. understood from him that his singing at night was the first thing that raised his suspicions, and