expressed some doubt of its genuineness. To this Mr Holcroft replied, by pointing to a touch in one part of the picture, which he said no copyist could imitate. A few days after, however, he came to the same friend, and told him that he had been right in his conjecture, for that he had now got the real original, and that the other was but a copy. He afterwards sold the copy to Bannister for five guineas. The second purchase was a real Wilson, and one of the finest landscapes he ever painted. Mr Holcroft occasionally made excursions into different parts of England, and once or twice went to see his father, who seldom remained long in the same place. In 1788 he made a journey of this kind to visit him at Haslington in Cheshire. Of the particulars of this journey Mr Holcroft has left an amusing sketch in a memorandum-book, which I shall here transcribe. ‘May 24th, 1788. Received a letter from my father, alarmed, supposed him dying. Went immediately to take coach. Set out on the 25th, in the Manchester Commercial Coach for Haslington. An ignorant Cambridge scholar, a boorish country attorney, a pert travelled officer, a vain, avaricious, rheumatic old woman, and a loving young widow. Dined at Holkliff in company with outside passengers. Pride of inside ones. Tea at Chapel Brompton. A sandwich at Lutterworth. Widow leaves the coach. Quaker taken up at Hinckliff, but four and twenty, conceived himself a wit, rude to the old woman. Breakfast at Litchfield. Resign my place to a distressed damsel, and ride outside to Stafford. Cankwood coal-pits. Village of Slade. Remembrance of former times, youthful distresses, ass and coals blown down, white bread of Rugely, pottery journeys, &c. Pleasant banks of the Trent. Various seats, parks, pleasure-grounds, &c. Quaker takes his glass at Stafford, becomes more talkative and rude, which he supposes witty. Is told he is carnally inclined, and becomes suddenly abashed. Such is the force of habit and education. Lose the lawyer, dine at Newcastle. Quaker listens to learned poetical discourse on unities, Shakspeare, Moliere, Boileau, Pope, Gresset, Rousseau, Voltaire, Milton, etc. in raptures. Old woman displays her whole stock of great discernment, _i.e._ vanity. Stop at Talk. Waggon blown up: concussion felt several miles. Ostler of Talk o’ the Hill going to see his sweetheart, drove down the hill for the waggoner: smith at work saw the gunpowder running out, and called to lock the wheel, or the waggon would be blown up. Was not heard, or it was impossible to stop the waggon. Horse’s shoe supposed to have struck fire, and caught the train. Body of the ostler dismembered, and blown with one of the horses through the wall of a house; his leg and arm found some days after under the rubbish of a blown-down wall. All the horses killed. Many women and children killed, others maimed—the glass of the windows shivered into their faces and breasts—their shrieks terrible. Deep sands of Cheshire.