"wild oats," gave up his entire attention to the profession he had so unworthily entered, and is now a distinguished Admiral, and K.C.B. Poor James Smith and Barham died amidst the regrets of their friends, having bequeathed to their country works that will immortalize their names. Messieurs Ryves and Hunter still carry on their honourable vocation, and no members of the literary profession enjoy a higher reputation than the above firm. Mr. and Mrs. Hodson's business is daily upon the increase, and there are few of their customers who appear so largely upon their books as Lady Pembroke and myself. Mr. Sims, in a fit of ill-humour quarrelled and separated from his wife, who to revenge herself, joined the Thespian company of Mrs. Mortimer Granby, and with them proceeded to Australia; our last advices notice the successful débût of the Scotch vocalist Annot M'Leod, the lady having fallen back upon her maiden name. The same letters announce the arrival of the celebrated tra VOL. III. Y gedians, Mr. and Mrs. Stukely Windermere, from every metropolitan and provincial theatre in England. Sims in a George the Fourth's peruque, still resides in the London Road, Gravesend, but from the high sounding title of Coiffeur des Dames, he has been reduced to tonsorial employments, as the following card in his window will prove: HAIR CUT AND CURLED, SIXPENCE. SHAVING ONE PENNY. Jerry, the incomparable Jerry, met with an accident at Chichester, previous to a meeting at Goodwood, which proved fatal. A circumstance occurred respecting him, which ought to be mentioned, some years ago I was present at Doncaster races, and just after the St. Leger was run, a letter arrived informing me of the serious illness of a most valued friend, who expressed a wish, from his dying bed, to take leave of me; I lost no time in leaving the course, and proceeding to the town; but railroads not being in existence, I found it utterly impossible to procure a conveyance of any sort to take me the first stage of my journey towards Lancashire. While wandering through the High Street, the picture of grief, I met the hero of the cocked-hat. "Won your money, or rather other people's money, Captain?" he enquired in his usual eccentric manner. No," I replied, in rather a sharp tone, "but I'm busy and worried," and certainly my look bore out the assertion. "I beg your pardon, Mr. Pembroke," continued he, in a most respectful tone, "perhaps you have met with losses, and wish for time to arrange them; I think I can get you a conveyance, and if I trust you will not be offended-ten or fifteen pounds can be of any use, they are at your service." Most gratefully did I thank him for the first offer, which I gladly availed myself of, and was soon on my journey, an errand of death, not however before I had satisfied the worthy fellow of the real cause of my distress, which was far 324 THE STORY OF MY LIFE. different from what he had supposed it to be— a regular smash-on the turf. In conclusion, let me add that nothing can exceed the happiness of the party now domiciled at the Abbey. I have lived to repent the follies of my early days, and surrounded by an affectionate mother, a devoted wife, a kind-hearted father-in-law, and some blooming children, not a wish is left ungratified, except that of hoping my readers will act a charitable part towards me, and find allowances for many defects in this the STORY OF MY LIFE. THE END. LONDON: Printed by Schulze and Co., 13, Poland Street. |