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my man.”

the closs, just as if he had been a great deal of the laddie' weel, weel, stickit sheep, and in at the back door, they cannà prevent me coming to sew which cost us some trouble, being beside ye; and, if I can take the meanarrow, and the barrow getting jam- sure of customers without, ye can cut med in ; but, at lang and last, we got the claith within. But what is't for, him strieked out aboon the blankets, maister ?" having previously shooken Benjie, and “ Coine in here,” said I to him, waukened him out of his morning's " and believe your ain een, Tammy, nap.

A' this being accomplished, and • Losh me !" cried the puir laddie, got ower, Blister decamped, leaving glowring at the bluidy face of the me my lieving lane, excepting Benjie, man in the bed.

'Ay-ay-ay! wba was next to paebody, in the house maister ; save us, maister ; ay-aywith the deeing man. What a frightfu' ay-you have na clowred his harnface he had, all smeared over with pan wi' the goose ? Ay, maister, mais. bluid and pouther-and I really ja- ter! whaten an unyearthly sight!! loused, that if he deed in that room, I doubt they'll hang us a'; you for it wad be haunted for ever mair, he doing't—and me on suspicion-and being in a manner a murdered man, so Benjie as art and part, puir thing. that, even should I be acquitted of But I'll rin for a doctor. Will I, art and pairt, his ghaist might still maister ?" come to bother us, making our house The thocht had never struck me bea bell upon yearth, and frighting us fore, being in a sort of a manner dung out of our seven senses. But, in the stupid; but catching up the word, I midst of my dreadful surmeeses, when said wi' all my pith and birr, " Rin, all was still, so that you might have rin, Tammy, rin for life and death !” heard a pin fall, a knock, knock, But Tammy bolted like a nine-yearknock, cam to the door, on which, auld, never looking behint his tail: coming to my senses, I dreaded first so, in less than ten minutes, he rethat it was the death-chap, and syne turned, hauling alang auld Doctor that the affair had gotten wind, and Gripes, wham he had waukened out that it was the beagles come in o' his bed, by the lug and horn, at search of me; so I kissed little Benjie, the very time I was trying to quiet wha was sitting on his creepie, blub- young Benjie, wha was following me bering and greeting for his parritch, up and down the house, as I was pawhile a tear stood in my ain ee, as I cing to and fro in distraction, girning gaed forrit to lift the sneck, to let the and whinging for his breakfast. officers, as I thocht, harrie our house, “ Bad business, bad business ; bless by carrying aff me, its master ; but it us, what is this?" said the auld Doc. was, thank heevan, only Tammy Bode tor, staring at Magneesy's bluidy face kin, coming in whistling to his wark, through his silver spectacles—"What's with some measuring-papers hinging the matter?” round his neck.

The puir patient knew at ance his Ah, Tammy,” said I to him, my maister's tongue, and, lifting up ane heart warming at a kent face, and of his eyes, the other being stiff and making the laddie, although my barkened down, said a melancholy bounden servant by a regular inden- voice, “ Ay, master, do ye think I'll ture of five years, a friend in my need, get better?" “ come in, my man. I fear ye'll hae Doctor Gripes, auld man as he was, to take charge of the business for some started back, as if he had been a time to come; mind what I telld ye French dancing-master, or had stram‘about the shaping and the cutting, pit on a het bar of iron. “Tom, Tom, and no making the guse ower warm, is this you? what, in the name of wonas I doubt I am about to be harled der, has done this?” Then feeling his awa to the tolbooth."

wrist" but your pulse is quite good. Tammy's heart laup to his mouth. Have you fallen, boy? Where is the " Ay, maister," he said, " yere joking. blood coming from ?". What should ye have done that ye “Somewhere about the hairy scaup," should be ta'en to sic an ill place?" answered Magneesy, in their own sort

Ay, Tammy, lad,” answered I, of lingo. “ I doubt some arter's cut Sit is but ower true."-"Weel, weel," through !” quo' Tammy-I really thought it a The Doctor immediately bade him


1. fie quiet, and hush, as he was getting condemned thief with the rope about a needle and silken thread ready to his neck, and the white cowl tied ower sew it up; ordering me to get a ba- his een, to say naething of his hands son and water ready, to wash the puir jerked thegither behind his back, and lad's physog. I did so as hard as I on the nick of being thrown ower, was able, though I was na sure aboot couldna have been mair thankfu for a the bluid just; auld Dr Gripes watch- reprieve than I was, at that same ing ower my shouther, wi' a lighted blessed moment. It was like Adam penny candle in ae hand, and the seeing the deil's rear marching out o' needle and thread in the ither, to see Paradise, if ane may be allowed to where the bluid spouted frae. - But think sic a thing. we were as daft as wise; so he bade The haill business, tag, rag, and me tak my big sheers, and cut out a' bob-tail, soon, however, spunkit out, the hair on the fore part of the head and was the town talk for mair than as bare as my loof; and syne we wash- ae day. But ye'll hear. ed, and better washed; so Magneesy At the first I pitied the puir lads, got the ither ee up, when the barken- that I thocht had Aed for ever and ed bluid was loosed, looking, though aye from their native country, to Benas pale as a clean shirt, mair frighted gal, Seringapatam, Botany Bay, or Jathan hurt; until it became as plain maica ; leaving behint them all their as pease to us all, first to the Doctor, friends and auld Scotland, as they syne to me, and syne to Tammy Bod- might never hear o' the gudeness of kin, and last of a' to Magneesy bim. Providence in their behalf. Butsell, that his skin was na sae much as

wait a wee. peeled ; so we helped him out of the Wad ye believe it? As sure's death, bed, and blithe was I to see the lad the haill was but a wicked trick played standing on the floor, without a haud, by that mischeevous loon Blister and on his ain feet.

his cronies, upon ane that was a simI did my best to clean his neckcloth ple and saft-headed callant. Deil a and sark-neck of the bluid, making haet was in the ae pistol but a pluff him look as dacentish as possible, con- o' pouther; and, in the ither, a carsidering circumstances; and lending tridge paper fu' o' bull's blood was him, as the Scripture commands, my rammed down upon the charge, the sartan maud to hide the infirmity of which, hitting Magneesy on the eehis bluidy reeks and waistcoat ; bree, had caused a business, that seemhame gaed he and his maister thegi- ed to have putten him out o' life, and ther, me standing at our closs mouth, nearly pat me (though ane of the vowishing them a guid morning, and lunteers) out of my seven senses. blithe to see their backs. Indeed, a

CHRISTMAS GIFTS. . When four young maidens, all even as if the garland were but one beautiful as angels, come floating in, flower, the galaxy but one star. It is wreathed arm in arm, beneath the but one fair cloud illuminated by the high-arched door of a drawing-room, sunlight-a holy glee of four voices, where you are sitting on an Ottoman but one harmony! Christopher North in romantic reverie, how starts the supports himself on his crutch, and dreamer to his feet at the instanta- bends down before the undistinguishneous Apparition! The effect, at first, able glory. His senses, his imaginais as of a single overpowering counte- tion, his reason are bewildered-all is nance-a combination of the four into bright dazzling confusion before the one-the magic of a mysterious Mo- old man's eyes and you may count nad. Eyes, noses, cheeks, lips breathe the very beatings of his heart. As the love and delight, smiles and kisses— divine rustling of silks and satins ap

* 1. Literary Souvenir; or, Cabinet of Poetry and Romance. Edited by Alaric A. Watts. London. Hurst, Robinson, and Co. 1826.-2. The Amulet; or, Christian and Literary Remembrancer. London. William Baynes and Son. 1826.-3 Forget me Not, a Christmas and New Year's Present for 1826. London. R. Ackermann. 1826.–4. Friendship’s Offering ; or, a Literary Album. Edited by Thomas K. Hervey. London. Lupton Relfe, 13, Cornhill. 1826.

proaches, 'he collects his wandering ten—but who cares, if they are all thoughts, and gaping with incipient perused or looked at with pleasure discrimination, he chuckles to ob- now? Of all prospects, that of the 'serve that they are not angels_not future is surely the most unintergoddesses, but four young flesh-and- esting. The present for our money, blood misses, each in her way prettier and the more it is embellished the betthan her pretty mama, a Forget-me- ter, for it richly deserves cuts. None Not, a Friendship's Offering, a Lite- butninnies lookinto futurity, and what rary Souvenir, a Christian Remem- thanks will they get for their pains ? brancer.

Why not a creature born ten years hence Now, we know not how we could will ever so much as condescend to better have expressed our satisfaction know that they ever existed. Should on beholding the entrée into our Sanc- it so happen that some one of the tum Sanctorum of these Four Bloom- Paulo-post-futurum gentry should lay ing Perennials. They are all jewels his hand on an author who ap

- delights-perfect loves. How hap- pealed to posterity, can there be a py can we be with either--not were doubt that he will break out into the other dear charmer away—but a horse-laugh, and ask if the idiot were they merely lying asleep for a could have believed in his heart that season on our capacious table ! Sweet children were wiser than their facreatures ! we are in love with you all, thers ? Show us an instance of any renor perhaps would it be gallant to de- spectable gentleman, passing musterclare a preference. Each becomes Sul- as a blockhead all his own lifetime, tana in her turn-according to the and imposing on posterity as a firstmovements of that most capricious of rate fellow.-No, it won't do.-Once a all passions-custom cannot stale your dunce, always a duňce. If a literary infinite variety—and we swear to be man, a genius, cannot hold up his faithful to you during the period of head above water, but suffers it to be our natural lives, in all the innocent kept under for the short space of twenaffection of Platonic polygamy. ty minutes, not all the Humane Sociés

There was a clever paper in our last ties on earth will resuscitate him. We Number upon Metaphors, showing, shall suppose that he has been found that broken Metaphors (like other drowned, and he must be buried under bankrupts) always make the best fi- a plain slab. But get a namea title gure. We are availing ourselves of from your contemporaries, however that excellent doctrine, and extending small, be it even that of Count Tims, its principle to composition in general. and you are immortal.—Tims will be We have spoken first of angels, we triumphant over Time. Saturn will think-then of pretty girls—and now, in vain try to devour him-long after still meaning the same thing, we use he has made no bones of Wordsworth, the common word, volumes volumes and all those other wiseacres who put -twelve shillings, half bound or in their trust in posterity. boards--embellished with engravings Where were we? Let us see. Ay, from pictures by the first masters, and the Literary Souvenir; or, Cabinet of the letter-press furnished by forty of Poetry and Romance, edited by Alaric the best poets of the age.

A. Watts. Six thousand copies, he Now what is there to hinder a fero- tells us, of last year's volume have been cious, shaggy-eye-browed Aristarchus sold, and we can easily believe it. Our of an editor or contributor to frighten own article upon it could not do less off with a single frown all these four than introduce it into a thousand bou. virgin volumes ? It cannot be denied doirs. This year there is no falling that their contents are extremely tri- off ; on the contrary, the tree has come fling--not to be weighed for a single to its full bearing, and the fruit is of moment, against the article Steam brighter hue and richer flavour. That Engine in any Encyclopædia, or the palate would be indeed fastidious that Stot's Principles of Political Economy. could not relish such a dessert. It is a It would be rash to assert that the failing of ours to get drowsy after dinstate of mankind—nay even of Europe, ner, especially in the heat of a Christwill be widely, deeply, or permanently mas fire; but with this awakening affected by the publication of these volume spread fan-like before our annual perisdicals. In half a century eyes, they retain all their usual lustre they may even be generally forgot throughout the evening. What deliciVOL. XIX.



His life steals on,


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ous engravings ! Only look at The Lo. But we must turn to the poetry. VERS' QUARREL ! Heavens and earth, And here it gives us pleasure to pre-, quarrel with such a bright, breathing, sent our readers with one of the very and beautiful bosom! Where may best compositions in the volume, from you seek for calm beneath the skies, the pen of the editor :if it sleep not between these tranquil billows? There is the luxury of love,

THE POET'S DEN. hallowed by its innocence !-a table spread in Paradise, to be deserted for

A Sketch on the Spot. the fare of the common earth !-Or lo! the “ Forsaken” smiles faintly at her

Thus, in this calm retreat, so richly fraught

With mental light, and luxury of thought, own credulity, and the evaporation of her lover's sigh! The dream is gone, and the languor of its delight hangs

'Tis the “leafy month of June," all over the maiden's face and frame.

And the pale and placid moon, But sorely mistaken indeed art thou,

In the east her cresset rearing, O fair L. E. L., in murmuring for

Tells that summer's eve is wearing ;such a Juliet, such a strain as,

But the sun is lingering still Forget me I would not have thee

O'er the old, accustom'd hill, know

And condenses all his rays Of the youth and bloom thy falseness laid

In one broad, attemper'd blaze,low;

Twilight's shadows deepening 'round him, That the green grass grows, the cypresses Like a king when foes surround him, wave,

Gathering, since he scorns to fly, And the death-stone lies on thy once

Life's last energies to die ! love's grave !" Never was there a more needless

See! the parting god of day waste of sympathetic sorrow; for with Leaves a trail upon his way, in three months after she sat to Mr Like the memory of the dead Newton for her picture, did she, the When the sainted soul is fled,

Forsaken," elope to Gretna-Green And it chequers all the skies with a particular friend of ODoherty's, With its bright, innumerous dyes. and before the year had expired, was Waves of clouds, all rich and glowing, she safely delivered of twins. Noto- Each into the other flowing, rious facts like these rob fiction of half Pierced by many a crimson streak, its pathos; nor is it possible to shed Like the blush on Beauty's cheek; tears over youth and beauty brought Here and there dark purple tinges to-bed under such circumstances. Peering through their saffron fringes, Should L. E. L. introduce into a fu- (Amethysts of price untold, ture Souvenir the “ Forsaken” as a Set in shrines of virgin gold,) widow, let her remember that weeds And, anon, a dewy star, are mere annuals, and entitle her epi- Twinkling from blue depths afar, thalamium (or, as that accomplish- Bright as Woman's tearful eye ed scholar, the late Dr Pirie, would

When she weeps, she scarce knows why. have said, epicedium) “ A Year and

Not a sound disturbs the hush, a Day."

Save the mountain-torrent's gush, The "Kiss,” drawn by J.M.Wright,

As it struggles, with a bound, after Retch, (see his illustrations of Now through tangled brush-wood stray

From the depth of shades profound ; Goethe's Faust,) is, if possible, still more charıning—fond and impassion, Now o'er velvet moss delaying,

ing, ed, but perfectly chaste and pure, and not to be gazed on, without delight, Like a youthful poet's dreams,

Lapsing now in parted streams, by man of woman born. While Lady And, anon, their haven won, Louisa Jane Russell, youngest daugh- Gently gliding into one! ter of his Grace the Duke of Bedford, Cooling

breezes bathe the brow from the statue of Chantry at Woburn - With delicious fragrance now; Abbey, calms the spirit with a far dif- Incense sweet from many a bower ; ferent image—that of childish delight Odours from each closing flower ; and love--as the fair creation stands, Swell upon the rising gale, unadorned and innocent as an infant, On the charmed sense prevail, and presses with both gentle hands a Till the pulse forgets to move, dove to her sinless bosom.

And the soul is “ drunk with love !"

Where yon sweet clematis flings,

By the open lattice sitting, Far and wide, its starry rings;

Fever'd streams of beauty fitting Where the graceful jasmine's braid,

O'er his heart, and o'er his brain, Makes a green, eye-soothing shade, In one bright, unbroken chain; And their shoots united rove

Drinking deep through every sense, O'er the trelliced roof above,

Draughts of pleasure, too intense, Deep embower'd from mortal ken, Mark the poet's glistening eye Thread we now a Poet's Den !

Wandering now o’er earth and sky! Bright confusion revels there,

'Tis a blissful hour to him, Ne'er had she a realm more fair;

Slave of feeling-child of whim'Tis a wilderness of mind,

Builder of the lofty rhyme, Redolent of tastes refined.

Bard, musician,-painter,-mime ; Tomes of wild romantic lore,

Ever sway'd by impulse strong, Cullid from Fancy's brightest store,

Each by turns, and nothing long: (Caskets full of gems sublime,

Fickle as the changing rays From the silent depths of Time,)

Round the sun's descending blaze; Poets, whose conceptions high

Still in search of idle toys;
Are sparks of immortality;

Pining after fancied joys;
Sages, Wisdom's self bath crown'd, All that charm'd his heart or eye,
People all the walls around;

Sought-possess'dand then thrown by! Or beneath the 'wilder'd eye,

Doom'd on shadows thus to brood, In “ admired disorder" lie

Whilst life's more substantial good, Ingots rich of Fancy's ore,

All that wiser bosoms prize, Scatter'd o'er the crowded floor.

Fades like day from yonder skies !

There is much fancy of thought and Mystic scraps are strewn around,

elegance of expression in the "Ode to Like the oracles profound

a Steam-Boat," by T. Doubleday, Esq. Of the Delphic prophetess; And-as difficult to guess!

ODE TO A STEAM-BOAT. China vases, filled with flowers,

ON such an eve, perchance, as this, Fresh from evening's dewy bowers ; When not a zephyr skims the deep, Love-gifts from his lady fair,

And sea-birds rest upon the abyss, Knots of ribbon, locks of hair ;

Scarce by its heaving rocked to sleep, Sprigs of myrtle, sent to keep

On such an eve as this, perchance,
Memory from too sound a sleep; Might Scylla eye the blue expanse.
Violets, blue as are the eyes
That awake his softest sighs,

The languid ocean scarce at all
And reward his love-sick lays

Amongst the sparkling pebbles bissing-
With their smiles of more than praise ; The lucid wavelets, as they fall,
Spells of sweetness, gather'd 'round, The sunny beach in whispers kissing,
Make those precincts hallow'd ground ! Leave not a furrow-as they say

Oft haps, when pleasure ebbs away.
Here a broken, stringless lute;
There a masker's antic suit;

Full many a broad but delicate tint
Fencing foils; a Moorish brand ;

Is spread upon the liquid plain; Tokens strange from many a land; Hues rich as aught from fancy's mint, Memory's lights to many a scene Enamellid meads, or golden grain ;Where his roving steps have been ; Flowers submarine, or purple heath, Cameos rich, from mighty Rome; Are mirror'd from the world beneath. Laurel wreathes from Virgil's tomb; Golden fruit from Scio's vine;

One tiny star-beam, faintly trembling, Views along the winding Rhine;

Gems the still waters' tranquil breast; Wither'd shrubs from Castaly,

Mark the dim sparklet, so resembling Spread below, or ranged on high, Its parent in the shadowing east ;Mingle there promiscuously!

It seems—so pure, so bright the traceAnd many a fair and sunny face,

As sea and sky had changed their place. Many a sculptured shape of grace, Such as Guido's pencil warm’d,

Hush'd is the loud tongue of the deep :And Canova's chisel form’d,

Yon glittering sail, far o'er the tide, Brows by deathless genius crown'd, Amid its course appears to sleep ; Breathe their inspiration 'round; We watch, but only know it glide Like the smile of primal Light,

Still on, by a bright track afar, Making even Chaos bright.

Like genius, or a falling star!

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