When my father died, and we were left alone in Jersey, I was quite a long time deciding whether I would go in for singing professionally or try painting. None saw, though all felt, his presence, and heard the thunder of his voice. Gay, the poet, who wrote the 'Captives,' which was lately acted at Drury Lane, and was so much admired by the Princess of Wales. Perhaps these few words were the first real conscious words he had uttered in days. . "I call this ere crib the Little-Ease, arter the runaway prentices' cells in Guildhall. . ‘What else do you expect? It’s the penalty you pay for marrying an Englishman.
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