he looked forward to amputation. He
was attended by Mr. Pott and Mr. Cruikshank.

Happily the complaint abated without his being put to the torture of
amputation. But we must surely admire the manly resolution which he
discovered while it hung over him.

He this autumn received a visit from the celebrated Mrs. Siddons. He
gives this account of it in one of his letters to Mrs. Thrale:--

'Mrs. Siddons, in her visit to me, behaved with great modesty and
propriety, and left nothing behind her to be censured or despised.
Neither praise nor money, the two powerful corrupters of mankind, seem
to have depraved her. I shall be glad to see her again. Her brother
Kemble calls on me, and pleases me very well. Mrs. Siddons and I talked
of plays; and she told me her intention of exhibiting this winter the
characters of Constance, Catharine, and Isabella, in Shakspeare.'

Mr. Kemble has favoured me with the following minute of what passed at
this visit:--

'When Mrs. Siddons came into the room, there happened to be no chair
ready for her, which he observing, said with a smile, "Madam, you who
so often occasion a want of seats to other people, will the more easily
excuse the want of one yourself."

'Having placed himself by her, he with great good-humour entered upon
a consideration of the English drama; and, among other inquiries,
particularly asked her which of Shakspeare's characters she was most
pleased with. Upon her answering that she thought the character of Queen
Catharine, in Henry the Eighth, the most natural:--"I think so too,
Madam, (said he;) and whenever you perform it, I will once more hobble
out to the theatre myself." Mrs. Siddons promised she would do herself
the honour of acting his favourite part for him; but many circumstances
happened to prevent the representation of King Henry the Eighth during
the Doctor's life.

'In the course of the evening he thus gave his opinion upon the merits
of some of the principal performers whom he remembered to have seen upon
the stage. "Mrs. Porter in the vehemence of rage, and Mrs. Clive in
the sprightliness of humour, I have never seen equalled. What Clive did
best, she did better than Garrick; but could not do half so many things
well; she was a better romp than any I ever saw in nature. Pritchard, in
common life, was a vulgar ideot; she would talk of her GOWND: but, when
she appeared upon the stage, seemed to be inspired by gentility and
understanding. I once talked wit