Born, October 18th, 1720. Died, March 28th, 1760

WHAT is virtue?” asked a young lady one day of a world-worn cynic. To which he promptly replied, “Not being found out, my dear!” How many lives of women who have been courted and caressed, who have been the idols of their age; surrounded by the intoxicating homage which men are ever ready to yield to wit, genius, and beauty, when they find all these attributes centred in a woman—how many such lives would bear the stern scrutiny to which the asceticism of those who have never been tempted, would submit them? Certainly, not the life of Peg Woffington. There is much concerning her to condemn, but there is also much to praise: much to mourn over, but much to be proud of. In attempting to delineate the character of such a woman as she was, it should be borne in mind that her susceptible Celtic temperament, and her fieiy Irish blood, often involved her in broils which she deeply regretted. She was perpetually inviting people to stand upon the tail of her coat, and when they complied with her request, she resented it as an insult. Moreover, she had no advantages of early and delicate culture, no moral training in the dawn of life, when impressions whether for good or evil are readily and indelibly stamped upon the character.