course
displayed itself to great advantage. Surely Bulwer has described such
scenes too graphically in some of his earlier novels to make a minute
description here at all necessary; but the reader who is curious in the
matter may be referred to a work which has recently appeared under the
title of 'Sheridan and his Times,' professing to be written by an
Octogenarian, intimate with the hero. The fray ended with the arrival of
the watch, who rescued Blackstock, Greystock, and Thinstock, and with
Dogberryan stupidity carried them off to a neighbouring lock-up. The
examination which took place was just the occasion for Sheridan's fun to
display itself on, and pretending to turn informer, he succeeded in
bewildering the unfortunate parochial constable, who conducted it, till
the arrival of the magistrate, whose duty was to deliver his friends
from durance vile. The whole scene is well described in the book just
referred to, with, we presume, a certain amount of idealizing; but the
'Octogenarian' had probably heard the story from Sheridan himself, and
the main points must be accepted as correct. The affair ended, as usual,
with a supper at the 'Salutation.'

We must now follow Sheridan in his gradual downfall.

One of the causes of this--as far as money was concerned--was his
extreme indolence and utter negligence. He trusted far too much to his
ready wit and rapid genius. Thus when 'Pizarro' was to appear, day after
day went by, and nothing was done. On the night of representation, only
four acts out of five were written, and even these had not been
rehearsed, the principal performers, Siddons, Charles Kemble and
Barrymore, having only just received their parts. Sheridan was up in the
prompter's room actually writing the fifth act while the first was being
performed, and every now and then appeared in the green-room with a
fresh relay of dialogue, and setting all in good humour by his merry
abuse of his own negligence. In spite of this, 'Pizarro' succeeded. He
seldom wrote except at night, and surrounded by a profusion of lights.
Wine was his great stimulant in composition, as it has been to better
and worse authors. 'If the thought is slow to come,' he would say, 'a
glass of good wine encourages it; and when it does come, a glass of good
wine rewards it.' Those glasses of good wine, were, unfortunately, even
more frequent than the good thoughts, many and merry as they were.

His neglect of letters was a standing joke aga