His friend the prompter, seeing the book with him, took it out of his hand, and looking at it, told him he had thrown away his money in buying such stuff, and exhorted him not to waste his time in reading it. On coming to an explanation with him, the good man finding the boy intent upon improvement, benevolently told him that he should neither want proper books, nor instructions how to make use of them. He then lent him Lowth's grammar, and pointed out the most useful places. H. read it diligently, and though he seldom forgot any thing he once read, he perused Lowth three or four times over. The literary knowledge of H. was one of the most astonishing circumstances about him. It is doubtful whether on the day he died, he left a more perfect orthoepist living behind him. Indeed his attainments, particularly in poetry and critical science were so great, considering his early privation of means, that with all the aid derived from his frequent and free communications, the writer of this has often found it difficult to account for them satisfactorily. From this period of H's life all is an hiatus till his connexion with the celebrated James Whiteley, manager of the most extensive midland circuit ever known in England; viz. Worcester, Wolverhampton, Derby, Nottingham, Retford and Stamford theatres. Why, how, or when he left Bath and Bristol--or whether he was intermediately employed at any other theatre, the writer is not in possession of a single fact to enable him to determine. Of one Miller, a manager, he has heard H. speak, but not with any interest. James Whiteley was the theme on which he most liked to dwell. Whiteley was perhaps the greatest oddity on the face of the earth; but of a heart sound, and benevolent beyond the generality of mankind. Violently passionate, and in his passions vulgar, rude, boisterous, and so abhorrent of hypocrisy, that he laboured to make himself appear as bad as possible. He was a native of Ireland; and it has often been said of him that in eccentricity and benevolence he was a full match for any man of that country. He would ridicule and abuse his actors in a style of whimsical foulmouthedness peculiar to himself--but he would allow no other man living to do it--and while conferring substantial benefits upon them, would blackguard them like a Billingsgate fishwoman. So essentially did he differ from most other managers, that instead of wronging or pinching them, instead of intriguing against them, to run them down with the public, in order to enhance his own consequence, he was their champion, their sincere friend, and the strenuous supporter of their character and of the dignity of his company. If they fell into misfortune they found in him a father--and, dying rich, he bequeathed to his veteran performers who survived him, a weekly salary for life, which those who survive still enjoy. Whoever has read or heard of the character of doctor Moncey, may form some idea of the oddity of James Whiteley.