ance of attitude and propriety
of gesture, as they are universally acknowledged in the real characters
of life. Indeed, I have known a Gascon, whose limbs were eloquent as
his tongue: he never mentioned the word sleep without reclining his
head upon his hand; when he had occasion to talk of a horse, he always
started up and trotted across the room, except when he was so situated
that he could not stir without incommoding the company, and in that case
he contented himself with neighing aloud. If a dog happened to be the
subject of his conversation, he wagged his tail, and grinned in a
most significant manner; and one day he expressed his desire of going
backwards with such natural imitation of his purpose, that everybody in
the room firmly believed he had actually overshot himself, and fortified
their nostrils accordingly. Yet no man ever looked upon this virtuoso to
be the standard of propriety in point of speaking and deportment. For
my own part, I confess the player in question would, by dint of these
qualifications, make a very good figure in the character of Pantaloon's
lacquey, in the entertainment of 'Perseus and Andromeda,' and perhaps
might acquire some reputation, by turning 'the Revenge' into a
pantomime; in which case, I would advise him to come upon the stage,
provided with a handful of flour, in order to besmear his face when he
pronounces 'pale and aghast,' etc.; and methinks he ought to illustrate
the adder with a hideous hiss. But let us now come to the other
situation, in which this modern Aesopus is supposed to distinguish
himself so much--I mean that same eclaircissement comprehended in 'Know
then, 'twas--I.' His manner, I own, may be altered since I was present
at the representation of that performance; but certain I am, when I
beheld him in that critical conjuncture, his behaviour appeared to me
so uncouth, that I really imagined he was visited by some epileptic
distemper; for he stood tottering and gasping for the space of two
minutes, like a man suddenly struck with the palsy; and, after various
distortions and side-shakings, as if he had got fleas in his doublet,
heaved up from his lungs the letter I, like a huge anchor from foul
ground."

This criticism was acceptable to the majority of the college, who had
no great veneration for the player in question; and his admirer, without
making any reply, asked in a whisper, of the gentleman who sat next to
him, if Pickle had not offered some production