though Dr. Parr remembered one of his sisters, on a visit to Harrow,
reciting, in accordance with her father's teaching, the well-known
lines--

'_None_ but the brave,
None but the _brave_,
None _but_ the brave deserve the fair.

But the real mind of the boy who would not be a scholar showed itself
early enough. He had only just left Harrow, when he began to display his
literary abilities. He had formed at school the intimate acquaintance of
Halhed, afterwards a distinguished Indianist, a man of like tastes with
himself; he had translated with him some of the poems of Theocritus. The
two boys had revelled together in boyish dreams of literary fame--ah,
those boyish dreams! so often our noblest--so seldom realized. So often,
alas! the aspirations to which we can look back as our purest and best,
and which make us bitterly regret that they were but dreams. And now,
when young Halhed went to Oxford, and young Sheridan to join his family
at Bath, they continued these ambitious projects for a time, and laid
out their fancy at full usury over many a work destined never to see the
fingers of the printer's devil. Among these was a farce, or rather
burlesque, which shows immense promise, and which, oddly enough,
resembles in its cast the famous 'Critic,' which followed it later. It
was called 'Jupiter,' and turned chiefly on the story of Ixion--

'Embracing cloud, Ixion like,'

the lover of Juno, who caught a cold instead of the Queen of Heaven; and
who, according to the classical legend, tortured for ever on a wheel,
was in this production to be condemned for ever to trundle the machine