of introduction, without which the reader might question the author's capability of being polite though poor, and merry in the midst of misery. To proceed-Juvenal, who was certainly no joker, calls "those happy whom life has schooled to bear her fretting yoke." Shakespeare too furnishes a moral for the miserable, which may be well applied to the same profitable end. "More merry tears The passion of loud laughter never shed." Laughter, says a merry wag of our own times, an old brother Pauline, is, next to breathing, the most important business of the lungs. To which we beg leave to addit is as essential to health and old age as good exercise and regular diet-'tis "like the air we breathe, if we have it not we die :" the best antidote to the miseries of human life is patience and a merry companion; the first arms us with the power to bear the evils, and the second laughs us into good humour with our load. "There is, I grant, a triumph of the pulse, A dance of spirits, a mere froth of joy, Our thoughtless agitation's idle child, Such is not the merriment we seek to excite, but by humorously depicting, both with pen and pencil, the evils of life to the eye of reason, counteract the baneful effects of discontent and misery, and teach that magnanimity of mind which can rise superior to the tantalizing vexations, cares and common occurrences of the world. "For in the fountain where the sweets are sought, Some bitter bubbles up, and poisons all the draught." Misery is the lot of man: there is nothing so prosperous and pleasant, but it has some bitterness mixed with it. "The heart," says Solomon, "even in the midst of laughter, is sorrowful, and the end of mirth is heaviness." The world produces for every pint of honey a gallon of gall; for every dram of pleasure a pound of pain; for every inch of mirth an ell of moan; and as the ivy twines round the oak, so do misery and misfortune encompass the happiness of man. Felicity, pure and unalloyed felicity, is not a plant of earthly growth; but pleasure lives nearer to our dwelling than we generally suppose, and needs only a kind invitation and a firm resolution to be made an intimate companion. Reader, be your natural disposition lively as quicksilver, or dull and sour as the leaden pedantry of a college tutor, be your vein merry or miserable, whimsical or witty, cynical or critical, you shall find within food for your humour, materials for speculation, points which appertain to all ranks and conditions: the anatomy of the mind displayed in all the chequered varieties of life, subjects on which the contemplatist may philosophise, the learned be erudite, the wit brilliant, the misanthrope amusing, pale melancholy and black despondency forget their habitual gloom, and despite of themselves laugh at the grotesque exhibition of their own portraits; here may the hypocondriac find the chimeras of his flitting brain transfered to paper, and divested of their corrosive murky influence, the magic spell of sullen disappointment vanish into airy nothing, and blue devil sprites, transformed to merry genii, join in the revels of Terpsichore: here too the heart of feeling and the soul of sympathy shall drop the balmy tear of pity at the recital of human woe, and receive a fresh impetus to the inspiring delight which springs from the practice of celestial charity. We do not mean to attempt a revision of stale jokes and threadbare witticisms, culled from the oft robbed orchard of the facetious old Joe Miller. No, our purpose is to paint the miseries of human life, and by "holding the mirror up to nature" teach her sons and daughters the true philosophy of the art of healing by comparison, or of forgetting by example. As in language there is but one step from the sublime to the ridiculous, so in the miseries of this world there is often but a slight partition between the ludicrous and the grievous, between mirth and misery, and it is generally our own fault if in our journey through this world the two former are not our inseparable companions; and first let us begin with An author by profession may always be known by certain outward unquestionable appearances of poverty, which are sure indications of genius and a total disregard for decency. His exalted pursuits elevate him above the paltry considerations of cleanliness; the luxury of a change of linen, or the perplexing extravagance of two coats, would only distract his attention from his literary pursuits, or frighten his bookseller out of all recollection of his person. His face should resemble a dried mummy, and his eye be sunk deep in the socket, like the wick of an expiring parish lamp; the skinny exterior of his upper lip should be well covered with snuff, and his teeth give proofs of his attach 8 ment to the social pipe; his hat should be of the fashion of his boyish days, pinched into a thousand eccentric forms, by way of amusement while waiting in anxious expectation of a great man's notice, or a bookseller's liberality; his boots should be water proof, (i. e.) one hole to let the water in, and another to let it out; his pocket handkerchief (if he does not use the sleeve of his coat) should have more holes than the French admiral's flag at the battle of the Nile, and must on no account be washed above once in six months, for fear of wearing it out. In his carriage he should preserve a gentle bend, by way of reducing his altitude to the level of common-place understandings. He should be exceedingly cautious how he frowns, lest it should be misconstrued into contempt; nor can he be too particular in the indulgement of a laugh, lest it should be mistaken for derision. He may accept any invitation to dinner, and is never expected to return the compliment; nay, he may pop into any family where he has the least footing without hesitation and take pot-luck, and charity prescribes the necessity of their pressing him to stay. He must never think of being witty before the second bottle, and must always be ready with a good joke, cut and dried, to suit the humour of his company, to defend his host with, or amuse the family party. Every thing he says will be sure of applause as coming from an author, and above all he must endeavour to be egotistical. If he should lack wit, and be without conversational talents, no |