The joint stock of our two travellers for defraying the expenses of their journey from Exeter to Bath was a guinea, or twenty-one shillings sterling. This scanty provision demanded not only speedy travelling, but strict frugality. Warren, therefore, rose by the break of day, to be on the road as soon as possible, and wakened Snagg, who also rose; but-think, reader-imagine if you possibly can, what must have been their consternation, when, on drawing on his clothes, Snagg found that the whole of the money which he, as cashkeeper for both, had in his pocket, was gone! Dreary indeed was their prospect: they had yet fifty-two miles to travel; the day was cold and raw; the roads were thickly covered with snow-and of their whole stock, there remained but four shillings, which was in the pocket of our friend. They were moreover out of all reach of assistance; for if there were any idea more extravagant, or any thing more impossible than all others, it would be that of a strolling player's getting any one to lend him money in that country. As there was no mode whatever for the lost cash to get away, but by its rolling out of Snagg's pocket as he lay drunk in the carriage, Warren proposed to resort to the driver and beg of him to search the chaise, or, if he had found the money, to call upon him to restore it. The driver, however, arriving at the moment, saved them all further trouble of debating the matter by demanding his fare, and by declaring, on being questioned touching the lost money, and confirming the declaration with a thundering oath, that he had swept out the chaise, and that there was nothing in it more than usual. Had he been ever so much disposed to believe the fellow, his manner would have confirmed Warren in the suspicion, that he had either found the cash in his sweeping, or purloined it out of Snagg's pocket; for he told them that they might have their ride for nothing, and seemed well pleased when they gave the matter up: at the same time our poor travellers were afraid to make a noise about it, lest it should lead to a charge on the part of the driver, and to a suspicion in all who heard it, that their loss was a pretext formed to shuffle off the payment of his fare for carrying them. They were, therefore, fain to put up with it and push forward as well as they could on their journey-a difficult undertaking, since of the four shillings which remained in Warren's pocket, two being demanded for his lodging for the night, no more than two were left to defray their expenses.

As every moment's delay would enhance their difficulties, Warren urged his fellow traveller to be gone, and they set off with their best speed on the road to Bridgwater; but on the way the sole of one of Snagg's boots ripped off; and as they had neither time nor cash to spare for getting it stitched together again, they stopped at a cottage, borrowed a knife, and cut it entirely off. By way of consoling Warren, and cajoling himself with a modicum of hope, whether false or well founded, Snagg assured his companion that he knew where they would get relief: "You mayn't think it, perhaps," said he, "but I can tell you that I have a friend at Bridgwater, that's very well to live in the world; and you'll see, you'll see what a fine dinner we shall have there!" Entering Bridgwater, Mr. Snagg conducted his fellow traveller to this house of promised hospitality, where they found only an old woman, whose best cheer was a slice of cheese and bread and some beer. Not one article of these was good; however for it, such as it was, Mr. Snagg's friend insisted on being paid one shilling!! Snagg affected surprise and mortification: but Warren was seriously angry with him;-and well he might, for this payment left them but six pence for the residue of their journey.

Much lighter in pocket than in heart, our poor adventurers again proceeded to make the best of their way; Warren intending to push on to Bath without stopping. It was no less than thirty miles to be sure-a long walk to take between dinner and bedtime-but he recollected that he had once, upon an occasion still less urgent, walked from Bath to Sherborn, which was forty-three miles, between breakfast and dinner. Snagg, however, hung upon him like a log upon a mastiff's neck, and retarded his progress. Though he could do nothing, he said every thing he could think of to keep Warren in good humour and reconcile him to his deplorable situation, as they walked on towards Glastonbury. "I'll tell you what it is, Warren," said this comfortable companion; "but what signifies my telling you, when-damn that old witch for making a liar of me I know you'll not believe it.""That I shan't if it be good, you may depend upon it," said Warren; "your promises are like pie-crusts, only made to be broken-nay, not half so good; for they end in rotten cheese, brown bread and sour beer, with a swinging charge at the end of them."-" Nay, now but hear me this once," said Snagg, "and if I fail, why never believe me again. At Shepton Mallet I have a friend-a real friend-it will delight

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you to see how rejoiced he and his wife, and his children, and every one in his house-ay, the servants, and the very dogs, will be to see me. Good souls! whenever I go there, they cluster about me; and the first thing they do is to make me eat and drink till I'm ready to burst; but you shall see, you shall see:-there we shall get a comfortable hot supper and good bed, and a nice breakfast before we set out, after taking a good night's rest—ay, and money, if need be, to help us on to Bath in the morning in the stagesnug, boy, snug. But hark you, Warren," (they were then just entering Glastonbury) "suppose we stop here and have a mouthful-eh!-what say you?-that six pence you have got!-just enough-the nicest thing in the world-exactly enough-and then we shall have strength and spirits to dash on the rest of the way, and arrive just in time to supper at my friend's at Shepton Mallet." "Your friend!" exclaimed Warren, who could not help being diverted with the earnestness of Snagg's solicitation, and wanted to tantalize him: "your friend! I'll lay my life it will be another cheese and bread adventure; but remember-we have nothing now to pay for it; so if any thing of that kind happens, you must answer for it." "Done with you," said Snagg, "so now let us come into this alehouse before us here and take something."-" Well, be it so," replied our friend, laughing" here it goes! the last six pence!!"

Having discussed that poor remnant of his cash in bread and beer, Warren with his companion pushed on to the town of Shepton Mallet, where Snagg brought him to the house of his friend, where their reception was little better than it had been at his other friend's, at Bridgwater. The family were gone (all but the man's old mother) to spend the christmas holidays at Wells. As it was now rather late, very dark, extremely cold, the ground covered with snow, the roads dangerous, and the young men evidently fatigued, the old sibyl who guarded the house agreed to let them stay for the night, gave them for supper something so very bad that they could scarcely eat it, beer almost turned to alegar-and, to repose in, a bed so short that they were almost frozen to death. However the prospect of home cheered Warren. In the morning he rose betimes, and reached Bath that day, being the day of universal festivity and good cheer in England, Christmas day. There, in the arms of his parents and family, by a blazing fire, and, according to British custom, with a dinner of roast beef and plumb pudding, he gave all remembrance of past sorrows and sufferings to the winds.

With this, the third sally of our knight, ended the distressed part of his life. We shall next have to accompany him through fortunes which, being more propitious, were less marked with the kind of adventure that has enabled us to hold up to our readers so true a picture of the miserable state of strolling players in England. (To be continued.)

MEMOIRS OF JAMES QUIN.

The celebrated Comedian.

JAMES QUIN was born in King-street, Covent-garden, Feb. 24th, 1693. The ancestors of Mr. Quin were of an ancient family in the kingdom of Ireland. His father, James Quin, was bred at Trinitycollege, Dublin, from whence he came to England, entered himself of Lincoln's-inn, and was called to the bar; but his father, Mark Quin, who had been Lord Mayor of Dublin in 1676, dying about that period, and leaving him an ample estate, he quitted England in 1701 for his native country. His marriage was attended with circumstances which affected the interest of his son so materially, as probably to influence his future destination in life. His mother was a reputed widow, who had been married to a person in the mercantile line, and who left her, to pursue some traffic or particular business in the West Indies. He had been absent from her near seven years without her having received any letter from, or the least information about him. He was even given out to be dead, which report was universally credited. She went into mourning for him; and some time after, Mr. Quin's father, who is said to have then possessed an estate of 1000l. a year, paid his addresses to her, and married her. The consequence of this marriage was Mr. Quin: his parents continued for some time in an undisturbed state of happiness, when the first husband returned, claimed his wife, and had her. Mr. Quin the elder retired with his son, to whom he is said to have left his property.

Another, and more probable account is, that the estate was suffered to descend to the heir at law, and the illegitimacy of Mr. Quin being proved, he was dispossessed of it, and left to shift for himself. He received his education at Dublin, under the care of Dr. James, until the death of his father in 1710, when the progress of it was interrupted by the litigations which arose about his estate..

It is generally admitted, that he was deficient in literature; and it has been said, that he laughed at those who read books by way of inquiry after knowledge, saying that he read men-that the world was the best book. This account is believed to be founded in truth, and will prove the great strength of his natural understanding, which enabled him to establish so considerable a reputation as a man of sense and genius. Deprived thus of the property he expected, and with no profession to support him, though he is said to have been intended for the law, Mr. Quin had nothing to rely upon but the exercise of his talents, and with these he soon supplied the deficiencies of fortune.

The theatre in Dublin was then struggling for an establishment, and there he made his first essay. The part he performed was Abel, in the Committee, in 1714; and he represented a few other characters, as Cleon, in Timon of Athens; Prince of Tanais, in Tamerlane, and others, but all of equal insignificance. After performing one season in Dublin, he was advised by Chetwood, the prompter, not to smother his rising genius in a kingdom where there was no great encouragement for merit. This advice he adopted, and came to London, where he was immediately received into the company at Drury-lane. It may be proper here to mention, that he repaid the friendship of Chetwood, by a recommendation which enabled that gentleman to follow him to the metropolis. At that period it was usual for young actors to perform inferior characters, and to rise in the theatre as they displayed skill and improvement. In conformity to this practice, the parts which Mr. Quin had allotted to him were not calculated to procure much celebrity. He performed the lieutenant of the Tower, in Rowe's Lady Jane Grey; the steward, in Gay's What-d'ye-call-it; and Vulture, in The Country Lasses; all acted in 1715. In December 1716, he performed a part of more consequence, that of Antenor, in Mrs. Centlivre's Cruel Gift; but in the beginning of the next, year we find him degraded to speak about a dozen lines in the character of the second player, in Three Hours after Marriage. Accident, however, had just before procured him an opportunity of displaying his talents, which he did not neglect.

An order had been sent from the lord chamberlain to revive the play of Tamerlane for the 4th of November, 1716. It had accordingly been got up with great magnificence. On the third night, Mr. Mills, who performed Bajazet, was suddenly taken ill, and