sband, and resented in the dignity of silence the
malicious and injurious attack. She considered the present as an insult
offered when she had no one to protect her. I love her pride and
reverence her affection."

Of Hogarth's house at Chiswick, we have the following slight notice:--

"The time was now approaching when superstition, and folly, and vice,
were to be relieved from the satiric pencil which had awed them so
long--the health of Hogarth began to decline. He was aware of this, and
purchased a small house at Chiswick, to which he retired during the
summer, amusing himself with making slight sketches and retouching his
plates. This house stood till lately on a very pretty spot; but the
demon of building came into the neighbourhood, choked up the garden, and
destroyed the secluded beauty of Hogarth's cottage. The garden, well
stored with walnut, mulberry, and apple trees, contained a small study,
with a head-stone, placed over a favourite bullfinch, on which the
artist had etched the bird's head and written an epitaph. The cottage
contained many snug rooms, and was but yesterday the residence of a man
of learning and genius, Mr. Cary, the translator of Dante. The change of
scene, the free fresh air, and exercise on horseback, had for awhile a
favourable influence on Hogarth's health; but he complained that he was
no longer able to think with the readiness, and work with the elasticity
of spirit, of his earlier years. The friends of this artist observed,
and lamented, this falling away; his enemies hastened to congratulate
Churchill and Wilkes on the success of their malevolence; and these men
were capable of rejoicing in the belief that the work of nature was
their own."

We are glad to see Mr. Cunningham throwing light on false conclusions
drawn from the eccentricities of genius, as in this little anecdote:--

"With Dr. Hoadley, who corrected the manuscript of the Analysis of
Beauty for the press, Hogarth was on such friendly terms that he was
admitted into one of the private theatrical exhibitions which the doctor
loved, and was appointed to perform along with Garrick and his
entertainer, a parody on that scene in Julius Caesar where the ghost
appears to Brutus. Hogarth personated the spectre, but so
unretentive--(we are told)--was his memory that though the speech
consisted only of two lines he was unable to get them by heart, and his
facetious associates wrote them on an illuminated lantern that he might
r