in view. We wish to hear what is curious or not commonly known—whatever may amuse or instruct—what men of a certain note in the world say and how they say it; in fact, how eminent actors in the scenes of life exhibit themselves on familiar occasions. Such anecdotes are not history, but they illustrate it. Where the reported party speaks truth and sense, or is simply amusing, he has nothing to fear from the curious reporter. But of such materials, true or false, there is certainly no danger of an abundance. Men are too idle for that. Not one in ten thousand will voluntarily sit down to recapitulate or express upon paper what he has heard verbally the day before, although calculated to strengthen memory, amuse his friends, and enlighten posterity.
Malone was not one of that class. Many judged him to be over-diligent—the gentleman who was rarely to be seen at home without a pen in his hand or a book at his elbow. He found himself associated with the most eminent men of the time; he felt that even their more familiar moments produced something for future information or inquiry; and he was not above the labour of recording such particulars as might throw light upon their own or the previous age. To evince the precision of the narrator even in anecdotes, his authority is usually given.
He commenced the business of noting about May, 1783, and continued it, with occasional intermissions, till the death of Sir Joshua Reynolds, in 1792. Sincere grief for that loss, added to active occupation as one of his executors, drew attention away so long
