received the far greater part of her visitors: when persons of superior rank, or whom she chose to treat with ceremony, came, she had arranged that they should be shown into the drawing-room, and she went down stairs to them. The first an

noyance that met her on her return, was the disgraceful and violent conduct of her sister Debby, whom she was compelled to keep from want, though she would not see her when she called. She wrote to her sister Dolly and to Lady Gage to try what could be done as to provision for her.

On the 18th of March, having finished The Contrast,' she returned it to M. Le Texier, for whom she also translated a pamphlet. She then took up her novel, The Simple Story,' for completion on the new idea she had conceived; finished, transcribed, and sold it to Mr. Robinson; received the first proof from the printer Woodfall on the 11th of November; but his newspaper seems to have caused delay in the progress, and she transferred her work to Cooper, who completed it. Thus her time was sufficiently and profitably occupied she lived within the slender limits she assigned herself, and dined out frequently, either with Mr. Babb, or the publisher of her novel, with John Bannister, her stock-broker Morgan, or the Whitfields. In going one day to the house of the latter, she met with what she calls an adventure-that is, a strange admirer, who tires you into a walking acquaintance with

him; nor would he quit her till she had promised to meet him again, which she avoided by going out too late. Ladies are fond of any passing tribute to their attractions. She mentions yet another, as Mrs. Whitfield and she went in the stage to Chiswick. When they were crossing the ferry they fell into company with a very elegant man, (we use her own epithet,) who walked with them to Mr. Woodfall's house at Barnes, after having, in the most interesting manner, shown them the church, and other objects attractive in the route. She was quite delighted with Woodfall's place, then in luxuriant beauty.

Her sister-in-law Mrs. Simpson paid her a short visit alone in passing through London, and Mrs. Inchbald devoted the day to her amusement with great pleasure to herself. On the 24th of September she and her husband came to London together, and Mrs. Inchbald was much with them while they staid at Charing Cross.

This year she sat for her portrait to Mr. Russell, the crayon painter, at this time in the highest vogue. In point of likeness, he never, we think, failed, and there was great sweetness in his manner. The almost innumerable portraits from his crayon are now vanished; but he painted an immortal Topham in all the whiskered energy of composition; a pen (whiskered also) in the right hand, and the Life of old Elwes before him; and a fac

simile, very elegant indeed, of the showy, captivating John Palmer, who, "take him for all in all," was the most unrivalled actor of modern times he could approach a lady, bow to her, and seat himself gracefully in her presence. We have had dancing-masters in great profusion since his time; but such deportment they have either not known or never taught. He walked the stage in a manner peculiarly calculated to occupy it by his figure and action, with a measured and rather lingering step.

Her friend Mrs. Wells came, in one of her flights, to lodge in the same house with her; but she left Mrs. Grist's drawing-room in July, and Miss Hemet having lost her father, the dentist, was happy in the opportunity of being under the same roof with Mrs. Inchbald, who remained there the whole year. Her landlady was sometimes out of favour with the Muse for ringing her bell in the morning to get the servant up; but, though irritable, she was soon appeased, where the offender showed general kindness.

Rous

Among her readings this year we shall notice her delight in Burke's Reflections;' seau's Confessions,' of which she began a translation, but desisted after a time; Bruce's Source

of the Nile; Rasselas,' and some other works. She read also some German plays, at the desire of a native of Germany; but they yielded no fruit at

this time. She was busied upon a comedy on which she built great hopes; time only can inform us the probable name of it.

Robinson was to pay her two hundred pounds

for the Simple Story,' of which we shall speak at large in the following chapter.

VOL. I.

CHAPTER XII.

The Simple Story'-Sketch of it-Connexion of its two parts suggested by The Winter's Tale'-Striking passages in the novel-The character of Dorriforth-Her premonition to the second part-Rousseau's Emile'-Establishes herself as one of the greatest ornaments of her sex.

We are now arrived at the production which bears the highest testimony to the genius of Mrs. Inchbald. There are still living men of strong minds, who speak sincerely when they affirm her 'Simple Story' to be yet unequalled. We conceive her interest, however, to be any thing but simple, in any inferential use of that word. It is a story complicated with powerful character and the strongest passions; operating with a force that becomes irresistible and destructive; such too as could be found only in the peculiar connexion imagined by the author, and the Catholic profession of the leading personage.

Dorriforth," says an amiable critic," is a Romish priest of a lofty mind, generous, and endued with strong sensibilities." When such a