LETTER Xili.

" I had a Friend that lov'd me:

"I was his foul: he liv'd not but in me.
"We were so close link'd in each other's breast,
"The rivets were not found that join'd us first."

DRYDEN'S All for Love.

DEAR FRIEND,

IN

my

laft I mentioned my arrival at Bristol, where I took a lodging in a ftreet, called (I think,) Queen-Street, in Castle-Street, at the house of a Mr. James; a much more decent refidence, than commonly falls to the lot of journeymen fhoemakers.

In this houfe I found a Mr. John Jones, a genteel young man, just turned of twenty-one years of age: He was alfo a fon of Crifpin, and made women's ftuff fhoes: which he fold by the dozen to warehouses. This Mr. Jones and I were foon very intimate; we kept ourselves neatly dreffed, and in general worked hard, spending our money chiefly in company of women.

the

13

As,

"All

"All men have follies, which they blindly trace,

Thro' the dark turnings of a dubious maze.
"But happy thofe, who by a prudent care,
"Retreat betimes from the fallacious snare.”

POMPRET.

We followed this course about four months, During this time Mr. Jones once perfuaded me to go with him to the Playhouse, where we faw Shakespear's fine comedy of "As you like it." This was a feaft indeed to me, who had never before feen nor even read any theatrical production. 'Tis impoffible for me to defcribe my fenfations on the occafion. Between the play and the entertainment (which was the Mayor of Garrat) Mr. Edward Shuter performed a fhort piece called “The drunken man." This was the only time that I ever faw that extraordinary genius, but he made fuch an impreffion on my mind, that it is impoffibie I ever fhould forget him. I believe it is not generally known, as few would ever have fufpected, that this child of Momus was alfo a child of grace.

Since the publication of the first edition of thefe memoirs, I have read "The memoirs

of

of Mr. Tate Wilkinfon," patentee of the Theatres Royal of York and Hull, and was much furprized to learn that the famous Ned Shuter was a gracious foul. I will give you a paffage or two out of Mr. Wilkinson's memoirs, vol. iii, page 27, &c. “My imitation of Mr. Whitefield was beyond compare. Mr. Foote was ftruck by stepping in by chance, and once hearing Whitefield; the mixture of whofe abfurdity, whim, confequence and extravagance, pleafed his fancy, and entertained him highly, as Whitefield was that day dealing out damnation, fire and brimftone, as cheerfully as if they were fo many bleffings. What pity it is that our fears only, and not our reafon, will bring conviction; but reason handed by unaffected pure piety and religion would be a day of woe to methodism.

Mr. Foote was only a fpy at Whitefield's academy, while I (fays Mr. Wilkinson) had been a zealot for fome feafons before my encounter at Covent-Garden with Mr. Foote, my attendance had been conftant with my friend

I 4

friend Shuter, and as he actually was one of

the new-born, and paid large fums to Whitefield, I was always permitted to stay with him, for he was really bewildered in his brains, more by his wishing to acquire imaginary grace, than by all his drinking, and whenever he was warm with the bottle, and with only a friend or two, like Maw-worm, he could not mind his fhop, because he thought it a fin, and wished to go a-preaching; for Shuter like Maw-worm believed he had a call. I have gone with Shuter at fix in the morning of a Sunday at TottenhamCourt-Road, then before ten to Mr. Wefley's in Long-Acre; at eleven again at Tottenham-Court-Road Tabernacle, dined near Bedlam (a very proper place for us both) with a party of the holy ones, went at three to Mr. Wefley's theatre; then from that to Whitefield's till eight, and then fshut up, to commune with the family compact, page 29. I having had fo much practice (while a zealot) I really obtained and exhibited a much ftronger likeness of Whitefield than Mr. Foote did. The week before my Covent

Garden

Garden exhibition, I met Shuter at the Tabernacle; a great coolness had continued

for me time, as we had not spoke, or even looked at each other fince the breach between us in 175 but as we were met together in a place of charity and forgiveness to all who fubfcribed to the preacher, we became very fociable, and before Whitefield's lecture was done we were perfect reconciled: we adjourned to the Rofe, and by three the next morning were fworn friends, and continued fo until his death. Ned Shuter was alively, fpirited, fhrewd companion; a fuperio in natural whim and humour furely never habited a human breaft, for what he said and did was all his own, as it was with difficulty he cour read the parts he had to play, and could not write at all; he had attained to fign in order, but no more. Nature could not here beftow her gifts to greater advantage, than on poor Ned, as what the gave he made fhite, not only confpicuously but brilliantly, and to the delight of all who knew him on or of the ftage; he might truly be dubbed thechild of nature. He was no man's enemy bit his

wn,