dmission. "Oh! your sarvant, meine
Herren!" exclaimed the indignant composer. "You are tamnable dainty!
You would not go to 'Theodora'--dere was room enough to dance dere when
dat was perform." When Handel heard that an enthusiast had offered to
make himself responsible for all the boxes the next time the despised
oratorio should be given--"He is a fool," said he; "the Jews will not
come to it as to 'Judas Maccabaeus,' because it is a Christian story; and
the ladies will not come, because it is a virtuous one."

Handel's triumph was now about to culminate in a serene and acknowledged
preeminence. The people had recognized his greatness, and the reaction
at last conquered all classes. Publishers vied with each other in
producing his works, and their performance was greeted with great
audiences and enthusiastic applause. His last ten years were a peaceful
and beautiful ending of a stormy career.

VIII.

Thought lingers pleasantly over this sunset period. Handel throughout
life was so wedded to his art, that he cared nothing for the delights of
woman's love. His recreations were simple--rowing, walking, visiting his
friends, and playing on the organ. He would sometimes try to play the
people out at St. Paul's Cathedral, and hold them indefinitely. He would
resort at night to his favorite tavern, the "Queen's Head," where
he would smoke and drink beer with his chosen friends. Here he would
indulge in roaring conviviality and fun, and delight his friends with
sparkling satire and pungent humor, of which he was a great master,
helped by his amusing compound of English, Italian, and German. Often
he would visit the picture galleries, of which he was passionately fond.
His clumsy but noble figure could be seen almost any morning rolling
through Charing Cross; and every one who met old Father Handel treated
him with the deepest reverence.

The following graphic narrative, taken from the "Somerset House
Gazette," offers a vivid portraiture. Schoelcher, in his "Life of
Handel," says that "its author had a relative, Zachary Hardcastle,
a retired merchant, who was intimately acquainted with all the
most distinguished men of his time, artists, poets, musicians, and
physicians." This old gentleman, who lived at Paper Buildings, was
accustomed to take his morning walk in the garden of Somerset House,
where he happened to meet with another old man, Colley Cibber, and
proposed to him to go and hear a competition which was to take p