SMITH'S BOOK FOR A RAINY DAY.

IT has often been said that if any man would write an account of all that occurs to him in his life it would make an interesting book. Unless with so many exceptions as to overthrow the rule, the truth of this posi- tion may be doubted. Thousands, for example, have been gifted with a strong memory, and, in all ages of progress, have seen various social changes and transformation of outward things in the course of their lives. The business of thousands, too, from the page at court to the apprentice behind the counter, has brought them into contact with the fashionable, the celebrated, and the eccentric. These, indeed, are in some sort the external accidents of life ; but the power of shrewd observation is not rare among men of business and the world, although it may be of a limited character. Yet how few of these thousands could wrfte a volume like A Book for a Rainy Day, albeit their opportunities might have been greater than Mr. Smith's and their abilities equal to his ? A certain conjunction of qualities is required to form an author, even if he be only a noter of personal peculiarities and collector of gossip. There must be the acumen to see, the taste or judgment to select, and the mind congenial to the subjects, so as to present trifles in good faith ; for as soon as writing-craft attempts to endow matter with factitious importance, the sense of artifice and emptiness turns the mind of the reader : there is no forcing nature.

A Book for a Rainy Day is a sort of " omniumgatherum" of bio- graphical reminiscences, which extend from 1766 to 1833; the facts for the years of infancy, (which Mr. Smith extends to the fourth year,) having been communicated by parental knowledge. The matter, however, has often but a slender relation to Mr. Smith ; he is merely the peg to hang it upon. Sometimes the reminiscent calls to mind the rural appearance sixty or seventy years ago of what is now a densely-peopled part of London ; sometimes he describes the patrons, collectors, and auctioneers he met with in his youth, when he attended the study of Nollekens or the auctions of vertu to bid for West and Reynolds ; anon, the rich dresses of old times come upon the scene ; and then we have an anecdote, or a story, or a letter of a celebrated person or some once notorious personage. As we drop down to later and more prosaic days, Mr. Smith, without altogether quitting his "first style," deals more in what may be called writing. He presents his reader with accounts of trips in search of " characters " and London antiquities, an animated catalogue raisonn6 of some private collections he has seen, and occasional criticism on art. His arrangement is chronological, or rather that of the annalists—year by year. A fact is presented at the period to which it belongs, or in which the recorder became acquainted with it. This rule may not always be observed as regards letters ; and Mr. Smith's memory, however tenacious, has played him strangely false in 1804: Dr. Johnson did not die in that year, as he represents, but twenty years earlier. lif,ay we also note a deficiency in judgment : why not present the reader with a sketch of Langford, the original of Foote's "great man who had as much to say upon a riband as a Raphael," instead of giving us an ac- count of Patterson?

The attraction of this volume is very considerable ; and its variety prevents the possibility of being tired, whilst it enables one to take it up and lay it down at any minute. It is just the kind of book Chesterfield would have recommended to his son to fill up those odd five and ten

. minutes which foolish people waste throughout their lives ; or it will form an excellent companion for a steam-boat or a railway : it will un- doubtedly while away a "rainy day,"—though that is rather the time to sit down doggedly to a long spell ; but then, this is a volume to amuse the mind after a long spell.

The choice of the Matter seems capricious arbitrary : some years are very briefly dismissed in comparison with others, and some subjects are treated at a length by no means proportioned to their intrinsic importance. This irregularity, however, may be accident, or it may be design. Mr. Smith may have given only such things as have left a strong im- pression upon his mind ; or, knowing that to tell everything he could tell would be very wearisome, he may have adopted an artistical selection of his materials. The style, where original narrative or remark forms the substratum, is as crisp and curt as iu Nollekens and his Times; something like a well-bit etching.

From the character of the matter, the interest of the book has in many parts most attraction for Londoners—partly because the things spoken of have a reference to metropolitan life, partly because some of them relate directly to London topography. Who but those who are ac- quainted with the -North of Holborn and Oxford Street, and know that "Town" extends for a long distance beyond the places mentioned by Mr. Smith, can feel thoroughly interested in the following passages ?

TOTTENHAM COURT ROAD IN 1773.

As few persons possess so retentive a memory as myself, I make no doubt that many will be pleased with my recollections of the state of Tottenham Court Road at this time. • • • • The ground behind the North-west end of Russell Street was occupied by a farm, belonging to two old maiden sisters of the name of Capper. They wore riding-habits and men's hats; one rode an old grey mare, and it was her spiteful delight to ride with a large pair of shears after boys who were flying their kites, purposely to cut their strings; the other sister's business was to seize the clothes Of the lads who trespassed on their premises to bathe. From Capper's farm were several straggling houses; but the principal part of the ground to the King's Head, at the end of the road, was unbuilt upon. The Old King's Head forms a side object in Hog,arth's beautiful and celebrated picture of The March to Finchley," which may be seen with other fine specimens of art in the Foundling Hospital, for the charitable donation of one shilling.

I shall now recommence on the left-band side of the road, noticing that on the front of the first house, No. 1 in Oxford Street, near the second-floor windows, is the following inscription cut in stone, "Oxford Street, 1725." Hanway Street, better known by the vulgar people under the name of " Hanover Yard," was at this time the resort of the highest fashion for mercery and other articles of dress. The public-house, the sign of the "Blue Posts," at the corner of Hanway Street, in Tottenham Court Road, was once kept by a man of the name of Sturges' deep in the knowledge of chess, upon which game be published a little work. From the Blue Posts, the houses were irregularly built to a large space called Grease's Gardens; thence to Windmill Street, strongly recommended by physicians for the salubrity of the air. The premises occupied by the French charity children were held by the founders of the Middlesex Hospital, which were established in 1755, where the patients remained until the present building was erected in Charles Street. Colvin Court, parallel with Windmill Street, Northward, was built in 1766; and Goodge Street, further on, was, I conjecture, erected much about the same time. Mr. Whitfield's Chapel was built in 1754, upon the site of an im- mense pond, called "the Little Sea." Beyond the Chapel the four dwellings, then called "Paradise Row," almost terminated the houses on that side. A turn-stile opened into Crab-tree Fields. They extended to the Adam and Eve public-house, the original appearance of which Hoearth has also introduced into his picture of "The March to Finchley." The whole of the ground North from Capper's Farm' at the back of the British Museum, so often mentioned as being frequented by duellists, was in irregular patches, many fields with turn-stiles. The pipes of the New River Company were propped up in several parts to the height of six and eight feet; so that per- sons walked under them to gather water-creases, which grew in great abundance and perfection, or to visit "The Brothers' Steps," well known to the Londoners.

STREET SPLENDOURS OF 1771.

The -gayety during the merry month of May was to me most delightful: my feet, though I knew nothing of the positions, kept pace with those of the blooming milkmaids, who danced round their garlands of massive plate, hired from the silversmiths to the amount of several hundreds of pounds, for the purpose of placing round an obelisk, covered with silk fixed upon a chairman's horse. The most showy flowers of the season were arranged so as to fill up the openings be- tween the dishes, plates, butter-boats, cream-jugs, and tankards. This obelisk was carried by two chairmen in gold-laced hats; six or more handsome milkmaids in pink and blue gowns, drawn through the pocket-holes, for they had one on either side; yellow or scarlet petticoats, neatly quilted, high-heeled shoes, mob- caps, with lappets of lace resting on their shoulders; nosegays in their bosoms, and flat Woffmgton hats, covered with ribands of every colour. But what crowned the whole of the display was a magnificent silver tea-urn which surmounted the obelisk, the stand of which was profusely decorated with scarlet tulips. A smart, slender fellow of a fiddler, commonly wearing a sky-blue coat, with his hat pro- fusely covered with ribands attended; and the master of the group was accompa- nied by a constable to protect the plate from too close a pressure of the crowd, when the maids danced before the doors of his customers.

Mr. Smith was much employed by the late Duke of Roxburgh, the celebrated collector, to take portraits of distinguished malefactors. Among them was the once celebrated Governor Wall. The artist, however, could not get access to the court at the trial ; but, by means of his Jew Pencil-maker, he was introduced at a very miscellaneous kind of club, to Dr. Ford, the Ordinary of Newgate ; who willingly took him to see the prisoner on the morning of his execution. We quote the most essen- tial part.

"The prisoner entered. He was death's counterfeit—tall, shrivelled, and pale; and his soul shot so piercing i

piercingly through the port-holes of his head, that the first glance of him nearly petrified me. I said n my heart, putting my pencil in my pocket, God forbid that I should disturb thy last moments ! His hands were clasped, and he was truly penitent. After the yeoman had requested him to stand up, he pinioned him; as the Newgate phrase is, and tied the cord with so little feeling, that the Governor, who had not given the wretch the accustomed fee, observed, You have tied me very tight'; upon which Dr. Ford ordered him to slacken the cord; which he did, but not without muttering. Thank you, Sir, said the Governor to the Doctor; it is of little moment.' He then observed to the attendant, who had brought in an immense iron shovel-full of coals to throw on the fire, 'Ay, in one hoar that will be a blazing fire': then, turning to the Doctor, questioned him: 'Do tell me, Sir,-1 am informed I shall go down with

t force• is it so?' After the construction and action of the machine had

explained, the Doctor questioned the Governor as to what kind of men he had at Goree,—' Sir,' he answered, they sent me the very riff-refl.' The poor soul then joined the Doctor in prayer; and never did I witness more contrition at any condemned sermon than he then evinced."

11 11815, we are introduced to Mrs. Abington, the great actress, who died in that year ; and several traits of her are followed by some of her correspondence. The following letter appears to have been given to Mr. Smith by Mr. Harley nearly twenty years later : but no matter where it comes from, it is a capital bit, from the old comedies. The actress had been so long accustomed to play the fine lady, that the style was natural to her ; though the vanity of the player peeps out in the self-satisfied allusion to the great visit.

"MRS. ABLNGTON TO MRS. JORDAN.

"No. 19, Eton Street, Grosvenor Place, 6th January 1807. "I beg leave, dear Madam, to make my grateful acknowledgments for the favour of your kind remembrance. Your ticket [card?] with those of dear Miss Betsworth and the Miss Jorclans was sent to my present habitation on New Year's-day.

"I have not slept in London since I came from the Wealds of Kent; where I passed my summer upon a visit to Sir Walter and Lady Jane James, and their lovely family. It is near a grand scene of Gothic magnificence, called Bayhini Abbey, a seat of Lord Camden's, the brother of Lady Jane. In their peaceful retreat and accomplished society I have very much recovered my health and spirits; and hope to have the happiness of seeing you soon, as I am now looking for something to inhabit in London. In the mean time, if you, dear Madam, or the Miss Jordans, will do me the honour of calling at my present abode, which are two rooms, where I keep my clothes and trumpery, I shall be much flattered; and beg you to accept the compliments of the season, and a sincere wish that you may see many, many returns, with every happiness you are so well entitled to expect. Adieu, my dearest Madam. Be pleased to make my compliments to the ladies, and believe me your most obliged, &c. F. ABINGTON."