private life he was hospitable and splendid: he entertained princes, prelates, and peers--all that were eminent in art and science. If his wit set the table in a roar, his urbanity and good-breeding forbade any thing like offence. Dr. Johnson, who would suffer no one to abuse Davy but himself! bears ample testimony to the peculiar charm of his manners; and, what is infinitely better, to his liberality, pity, and melting charity. By him was the Drury Lane Theatrical Fund for decayed actors founded, endowed, and incorporated. He cherished its infancy by his munificence and zeal; strengthened its maturer growth by appropriating to it a yearly benefit, on which he acted himself; and his last will proves that its prosperity lay near his heart, when contemplating his final exit from the scene of life. In the bright sun of his reputation there were, doubtless, spots: transient feelings of jealousy at merit that interfered with his own; arts that it might be almost necessary to practise in his daily commerce with dull importunate playwrights, and in the government of that most discordant of all bodies, a company of actors. His grand mistakes were his rejection of Douglass and The Good Na- tured Man; and his patronage of the Stay-maker, and the school of sentiment. As an author, he is entitled to favourable mention: his dramas abound in wit and character; his prologues and epilogues display endless variety and whim; and his epigrams, for which he had a peculiar turn, are pointed and bitter. Some things he wrote that do not add to his fame; and among them are The Fribbleriad, and The Sick Monkey. One of the most favourite amusements of his leisure was in collecting every thing rare and curious that related to the early drama; hence his matchless collection of old plays, which, with Roubilliac's statue of Shakspere, he bequeathed to the British Museum: a noble gift! worthy of himself and of his country! The 10th of June, 1776, was marked by Garrick's retirement from the stage. With his powers unimpaired, he wisely resolved (theatrically speaking) to die as he had lived, with all his glory and with all his fame. He might have, indeed, been influenced by a more solemn feeling-- “Higher duties crave Some space between the theatre and grave; That, like the Roman in the Capitol, I may adjust my mantle, ere I fall,”