THEODORE EDWARD, the son of James Hook, a musical composer of some merit, was born in London in 1788. At a too early age, and after a very flimsy education, he began life without a profession or definite views of any kind. While a mere boy he wrote a good many trashy farces and burlesques for the theatres; but the temporary success of a few of them tempted him to devote his life to authorship. He soon became better known, however, from his convivial talents, which floated him into the aristocratic society of London. There he frittered away in clever improvisations and other forms of social debauchery, talents that might have gained for him a respectable position in English literature. His inexhaustible wit, his daring practical jokes, his amazing power of punning, and his musical skill, made him a great favourite with the Prince Regent, who, in 1812, sent him to the Mauritius as treasurer of that island. The whole of Hook's past career had in an eminent degree disqualified him for such an office, and at the end of five years he was brought back to England a prisoner, under a charge of embezzling some £12,000 of the public money. Subsequent investigation induced the government to drop the criminal charge; and Hook, though he never denied that a large sum (£9000) of the public money had been lost, through his carelessness and unthrift, never exerted himself to repay it. After his liberation from jail, where he spent some months while his case was under trial, he established the John Bull newspaper. This journal had at first a large sale, and again opened to its editor a door into the world of fashion, where, as before, he shone with a fatal brilliancy. In the attempt to turn his social advantages to account, he wrote a number of novels of what has been called "the silver fork school," which was for a time the fashion. But gambling, hard living, and the strain of incessant writing, made the gay and sparkling wit one of the unhappiest men in England during the latter years of his life, and at the time of his death in 1841 he was utterly broken in mind, body, and estate. Some of his best novels, such as his Sayings and Doings, in three series, Gilbert Gurney, and Jack Brag, still find admirers among a certain class of readers, but their interest is entirely limited to the circles whose follies and fashions they describe.