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Observations on the Writings of George | Petrarch's Letter to Posterity ...... ..313
Buchanan naman

| The British Ready Reckoner, and Uni-
The Story of Shakrak and the Magician versal Cambist........... ........317

of Constantinople ; (being a subject for Principal Baird's Report on the Manage-

a diclo-drama)... cara ... 258 ment of the Poor in Scotland... 320

On the State of Music in Scotland......265 Note to the Editor, (enclosing a Letter

Time's Magic Lanthern, No V. Dialogue to the Author of Beppo ).................323

beirveen Lord Bacon and Shakspearc270 Notices of the Acted Drama in London, a

No VI. Johnson's Midnight Walk 274

Kidd and Branderscornancera rowerocorane 277 History of Dr Brewster's Kaleidoscope,
Poetical Account of an Oxford Exami. with Remarks on its supposed Resem.

nation m ancano c om 280 blance to other Combinations of plain
The Old Indian and Alpina...............282 Mirrors coreano wanson331

Notice of Zacharie Boyd's “ Last Battel

of the Soule" commaccordancora ...283


Marriage. A Novel....

INTELLIGENCE.. m mm... 338

A few Thoughts on Public Feeling......294

Works preparing for PUBLICATION...312

The Craniologist's Review, No II. Greek



cora.co...... . 298

No II. Oliver Cromwell.com 300

TION Scosesoro


No IV. Franklin..

. ib.

No V. VoltairCoanocomarcaib.


On Dress...

Jeffrey and Hazlitterasomo... an...303 SCOTTISA CHRONICLE...wenner -349

Captain Thurston's Narrative of the tak. Commercial Report.


ing of the Island of Timor, by H. M. Meteorological Report ...camara.ma....360

S. Hesper, in the year 1811 ( Commu Promotions and Appointments ... ....361

nicated by Professor Pictet of Geneva) 306 | Births, Marriages, and Deaths...........363

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To whom Communications ( post paid ) may be addressed ;


(Oliver & Boyd, Printers.7

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XVII. We can't express our hatred of this WE,

Were vanity our foible, (which it an't) We bear the monosyllable a grudge ;

The notice of such heroes were enough Tully, we think, in his Curulian glee,

To turn the head of the most pious saint ;First introduc'd at Rome the pompous fudge : Think only of a Lord, (with gesture gruff, But now it is a standing vanity,

Back'd by a Banker) making sore complaint From which no modern editor will budge;

About a little monthly piece of stuff! From Mr Jeffrey down to Mr Hone,

A whole Society of such renown
They all preserve the same imposing tone.

Harangued to put one Irish Ensign down.

Even we, (remark the tyranny of fashion !) Behold the Thistle of our native land
Even we, tho' singular enough and single,

'Mid the gay garden rising like a queen!
We can't forbear, in spite of all our passion, How beautiful the airy leaves expand,
The same absurdity ourselves to mingle,

How soft the virgin coronal's purple sheen. With every sentiment-We cannot dash on, But stay, rash stranger, stay thy venturous hand;

Thro' one short stanza of our triple jingle ; Grasp not the modest garment of her green. In short we should be sadly at a loss,

Qur's be the emblem! Fops and fools beware, Were we restricted from our stately nos.

Admire in safety, touch us if ye dare !

But let that pass there's nothing half so wise, After this prelude “ Bion” will not stare,
As going on in the old jog-trot way;

Though we reject his quizzical “ Lament ;" “ Never no good doth come of novelties,”

We think it has a very wicked air, Se we'll be we until our dying day :

To such outrageous fury to give vent ; We wish, instead of aiming to surprise,

Moreover, still the Bailies' hopes are fair, By dash, originality, display,

For still the Court of Session may relent. We had from our commencement been thus sober, Besides it is a trick of good old John's,” (Hang that confounded 20th of October !)

Of differing from them all to make no bones. XIII.

xx. Then had our course of life been smoothly gliding There is no saying about things which lie In moderate unenvied calm prosperity;

Far in the Fates' inscrutable dark womb, Worthy old women then had not been chiding Of prophecies the wise are very shy,

Our deafening whirls and cataracts of asperity, But, 'spite of all the Scotsman's boded gloom, Nor all the godless wits their faces hiding,

We see not in the Magisterial sky Idoloclastis ictubus perterriti,

Any such symptoms of a dismal doom ; Nor whiggery's meteor dimly forced to twinkle Instinctive reverence still we entertain Before the rising star of LAUERWINKEL.

For resolute Mackenzie's gown and chain.

No acid drop had tainted then the jorum

Of them that love the Yellow and the Blue ;
Jeffrey had still been princeps criticorum,

The undisputed oracle of gout ;
And plain Scots heads had boo'd more majorum,

To that despotic democrat Review,
That over-rated much, but smart miscellany,
Which now we're boldly thrashing to a jelly nigh.

Heroic Provost !-Hast thou ever been

Present when Shakspeare's Richard 3d was played ?
Remember how the Pit applauded Kean,

With hand disarmed stili daring Henry's blade Such awe was our's, when, on that real scene,

Even in the front of Boyle, most bold Kincaid ! In front of Craigie, Bannatyne, and Miller, Stedfast and stern, stood firm our civic pillar.

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The “ Letter on Election” is too long,

Too ethically,.querulously sad;
Bailies and Bailie's Wives have stomachs strong,

And punch is, at this season, far from bad ;
And Candidates would do exceeding wrong

To change old fashions to please any lad
That takes't into his head he is their betters,
Who do not drink green tea, or write dull letters.

Then Hunt and Hazlitt, Haydon, Webb and Keats,

Had quaffed at Hampstead currant-wine in peace, la gentle interchange of " fine conceits,”

Of“ Laurel Garlands," and of mutual grease; Such, we may gather, are their Cockney treats.

(Alas! that joys so heavenly e'er should cease;
That envy such a paradise should visit,
la the vile demon shape of crooked Z.)

Then had Odoherty (mad bard !) not rushed

On the high corpus of F. R. S. E's;
Nor from the tongues of cits hot foam had gushed,

Against some blarney about Irish fees;
Nor philosophic Peers with fury Aushed,

Poissarded Ebony's enormities. (imprudent mineralogist and banker, Par individual notice dost thou hanker?)

It gives a Scottish Borough quite a spring,

When civil gentlemen come hurrying down, with heads agog on schemes of canvassing

They kiss the voters' spouses thro' the town,
They kiss their daughters also, and they filing,

To every boy they meet with, half-a-crown ;
Hot dinners and hot suppers are the word,
And every Deacon is as drunk's a Lord.

? 1


And then, at night, to see the balls are given Our female friends will hear, without regret,
Was ever such a glorious motley scene!

The OLD INDIAN's bunch of letters is reclaim'd; To see how the slim candidate is driven

Like other Bachelors, he used to fret,
In furious circles by some strapping quean ; And female follies lustily he blamed.
Or, how some sighing Jenny is in heaven,

But old Mysogynist Quizzes (never yet
With compliments and squeezes soft between; Did we observe it fail) at last are tamed :
To see the jigging, jolting, touzling, tumbling; Old Tough's been fairly hooked by a shrewd aunt;
Silks, flannels, chapeau-bras, blue bonnets jumbling. We wish him comfort in his marriage jaunt.

XXXII. If we had leisure, we could pen a treatise

'Tis just the season ; in a chaise and pair Upon the real vulgar style of dancing ;

By day they roll thy margin green beside, People have no idea what a treat 'tis

Of lakes most classical, Winandermere ! To be a looker-on when they are prancing, Or on thy bosom in a skiff they glide. What an enormous twinkling 'mong their feet is, With spectacle on nose they stifly stare,

With what velocity their toes are glancing, And very bitterly the boatman chide, In, out, above, below, before, behind,

If, through his blundering, they be not relande
Your eye can't follow tho' you have a mind. The very minute dinner was commanded.

Your regular hopper, your true Dandy chap, A fine young couple, full of life and love,

Has thewes and sinews of such brittle make, Just wedded to their mind, and, for a time,
He fears the frail machinery might snap,

Free 'mid some soft Elysian scene to rove, If he one glorious, boisterous, fling should take. And hear no earthly sound save the near chime He has no juice about his bones, no sap,

Of merry bells from out the village grove, Mark with what languour moves th' enervate rake! Their honeymoon is sweet as Eden's prime. Look how he swims, and glides, with poised toe, Of love, love only, do they talk and think ; Genteelly weak, and fashionably slow!

They take no notice what they eat or drink. . XXVII.

XXXIV. Turn to the Burgess or the rural hind,

But when old musty, dry, and doting sinners With horny calf and light elastic heel,

The laws of nature by a wedding shock,
His motions bold and active as the wind,

They make a tour, and order famous dinners,
With crackling fingers and unceasing squeal Soup, fish, and fricassee, at five o'clock.
Of joy, bebold him capering, unconfined,

Landlords and landladies are the chief winners,
Thro' the mad maze of the congenial reel : Waiters and waiting-maids enjoy the joke.
See, Dandy! how the damsels eye their boor, The feeble cooing of the fond old ninnies
And think on your cold partner's gaze demure. Productive of an universal grin is.

We owe our grateful thanks to Mr B.

We're going out of town to-morrow week, Grace, in whate'er he writeth, must appear. To London (to see Baldwin) by the smack, We like his “ premiere fois” wondrously.

And scarcely hope that to the Nest of Reek, • “The Highlanders" lie snug 'mong our best gear. Before the first of August, we'll be back. “ The Jury Trial,” would, in Devilry

Sharp-set Contributors, the truth to speak,
Tenfold, set Satan loose, we greatly fear.

Had better Blackwood instantly attack ;
The Author of “ The Dentist" is most fash; We wish to go with comfort on our trip,
If printed, 'twould secure him a squabash.

And see each article e'er we take ship.

The Letters to the Reverend Sidney Smith,

Professor Playfair, Hazlitt, and Tom Moore,
Have all Idoloclastes nerve and pith

We never read more bitter things before. But wherefore hack so cruelly each lith

And limb of the Review-thou Matador! The Horn is blunt--he's in a deep decline, Reserve for nobler Beasts that mace of thine!

The fact is, our good friends have been so steady

This spring, that we've a huge enormous box
Full to the brim, completely cut and ready,

Of papers fit for every sort of folks :
For young and old, malé, female, grave, and giddy,

Abundant food our reservoir unlocks ;
Bate only the correcting in the slip,
Never was easier CONDUCTORSHIP.

We have received Philemon's sharp epistle

To Mr Wilson, author of The Isle
Of Palms,” which calls that poet's lyre a whistle,

And cuts him up throughout in monstrous style.
Philemon makes a great display of bristle,

And seems to breathe the very soul of bile : A manly Wit would scorn to take such views of the productions of so meek a Muse.

“ Farewell ! a word which hath been and must be!"

If any Wit, before in idlesse sitting,
Now write and send his papers postage free;

If any that before hath dully written
Now learn to write with vigour and with glee ;

If any that before we had not smitten,
For this, our Monthly Treasure, thirst and hunger,
Then not in vain hath rhymed your

Notice Monger.

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