and the Beggar's Opera was fixed on as giving
a fair chance to all. But Mr. Wilkinson was to
his Monologue and the Author, as his
share.

All the genteel people of the neighbourhood
hearing of the " bespeak," and that Mr. and
Mrs. Garrick were coming in, crowded to the
little box-office; and when Friday night came
round, there was really a full house. The
Beggar's Opera began, but the great party
not come. The first act went by, the
second began; and the actors and audience
began to grow dissatisfied, thinking they had
been led there under a false pretence. In
particular, Mr. White was scornful and angry,
some of the best bits of his Macheath having
been played. But, towards the end of the act,
the party from Wickham entered, and took
their places with the eyes of the whole house
on them. It was noticed that Mr. and Mrs.
Garrick and party paid the closest attention,
and applauded heartily. We may be sure
that night was long remembered at the
Portsmouth little theatre; and it seems a fresh
picture, and its primitiveness and rustic character,
coming after the London worldliness, must have
been enjoyed by Garrick himself.

After the play, there was supper at the Rainbow
Tavern, at which various local persons of
distinction came in and paid their compliments
to Mr. and Mrs. Garrick. Before them all,
Mrs. Garrick very delicately and kindly thanked
Wilkinson for his performance. At some time
past midnight she retired, having to sleep at the
house of one of Doctor Garney's friends, these
good people " not hearing" of her staying at a
tavern. Mr. Garrick, who, says Wilkinson,
"never failed in attention to his lady," would
not suffer her to go with the servant, and wrapping
himself in a handsome sea-captain's cloak
which belonged to Mr. Wilkinson, attended her
up the street. When he returned, he said he
was quite pleased with his walk, as it had
made him acquainted with Mr. Wilkinson's
snug roquelaire, which he thought would be
exactly the sort of thing for him during the
winter months between Southampton-street
and the theatre, and save him many a sedan-
chair journey. He therefore commissioned
Tate to get him one in Portsmouth, and bring
it up to London.

It was a very pleasant night. They sat till
past three. Great consideration and homage
was paid to the illustrious guest, who never
showed to such advantage. The whole of this
scene does, indeed, exhibit the guest of the good
honest Garneys unrestrained, not " stuck up."

Later the actor, wishing to pay a complimentary
visit to Doctor Garney, determined to ride
out. His description of his adventure is
delightfully naïve and graphic:

" I had seldom," he says, " used myself to
that mode of travelling ; for though I had
frequently gone from London to Hampton
Court and Richmond, yet it was generally in a
post-chaise." The ostler of the Fountain
brought to the door a very fine-looking horse,
and asked him if he rode much. The other
"assured him the contrary." " Because I beg,
then, sir, as you are not a jockey, that I may
take those spurs off." He then set off, and
for the first mile or so, which was through
streets and over drawbridges, " I found it a
very delicate matter, either by giving the horse
his own way or checking him, to keep him
within the power of my art of horsemanship.
By degrees, the horse seemed wisely to comprehend
that his own self-will and sagacity were
superior to his rider's. My ignorance was
manifest to the animal, and as he was fully
convinced I assumed a government to which I was
not by any means competent, he was
determined on rebellion, and to himself usurped the
reins of power." Having achieved two miles
with safety, the horse suddenly set off with
fury, throwing his rider into an abject state of
alarm, which was increased by finding it a
narrow road, and the London waggon lumbering
on leisurely in front, " at which," says Mr.
Wilkinson, " this dreadful beast rushed, so that
the wheel stopped and checked my right leg,
and brought me to the ground, and on my fall
the horse's hind hoof struck my jaw, and made
it bleed most plentifully. Providentially the
men stopped the waggon, but almost against
their will; for they could not conceive, from the
fury of the beast and the supposed misguided
rage of the rider, but I was some foolish mad
fellow eager to show my horsemanship, neck or
nothing." The waggoners were half angry, half
amused. " They only damned me for a feul;
for they were right zure I mun be mad to
ride dumb beast to fright the waggon, like." But
when Tate explained it was an accident, they
laughed heartily, and said " I should never win
the King's Plate at Newmarket." Wilkinson
was then helped on the horse's back, who had
been grazing all this time, and reassumed the
reins. " I determined to be very steady, and not
venture on the perilous canter any more: a gentle
trot at the most was to suffice, and that with all
precaution. We were jogging on as if by mutual
agreement, when an officer, going on to Hilsea
Barracks, came flying by, calling out, ' Your
friend Scott dines at Hilsea; do come to dinner,
Wilkinson,' and went galloping on. My fiery-
footed steed, scorning to be outdone in courtesy,
obeyed the summons with the utmost swiftness,
while, Gilpin-like, I held by the pommel of the
saddle, expecting every instant my neck would
be broke. I was at the last gasp with this
devil of a horse; for the officer had no thought
but I was determined to outride him, and be at
Hilsea the first; but on seeing the turnpike, I
cried aloud, ' Shut the gate! Murder! murder!
For God's sake, shut the gate!' At first they
did not comprehend me, but on observing my
awkward manner of riding on this my flying
horse, and my continued cry of ' Shut the gate,'
they did so before I got to it; and then another
fear arose, which was, that of the horse's
despising the barred gate, and leaping over it.
Fortunately the creature, either in pity to my
fears or regard for his own limbs, or from the