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nius and uninterrupted application. As a
daughter, a wife, and a friend, her con-
duct was amiable and exemplary; and,
had she been blessed with the advantages
of health and longer life, there is every
reason to believe, she would have made a
more distinguished figure in the learned
world than any woman who had preceded
her.

hours, this lady declares that she had ever that he at last determined to attempt passed, were in the society and conversasomething original; and had composed a tion of this "female philosopher." My long speech for the purpose, and anxiousfather, adds she, readily consented to acly waited to catch the speaker's eye, that cept of Constantia as a pupil, and gave he might take the earliest opportunity of her a general invitation to his table, by delivering his oration, adorned as it was which means we were rarely asunder. with all the flowers of his wit and fancy. Whether it was owing to her own design This gentleman just stepped into the cofor to the envy of those who survived her, fee-room to cast an eye over his compoI know not, but of her various and beau- 'Such are all the facts that are left to sition and refresh his memory. Sir Boyle tiful writings, I have never seen any pub-posterity of this high [y] gifted female; took a seat near him, and in the course of lished, excepting one poem of her's in and we cannot help regretting, that while conversation, as he darted off in a hurry the works of Mrs. Barber. Her turn, it is so many pains are taken to preserve memo-to catch an opportunity for speaking, untrua, was principally to philosophical or rials the most minute of individuals whose fortunately his speech fell from his pocket religious subjects, which might not be lives have glided away in a succession of on the floor. Sir Boyle picked it up, and agreeable to the present taste; yet could miserable follies, so little has been re- on reading it over, thought it would adher heavenly mind descend from its su- corded of a woman, whose mind was a mirably suit his own purpose;—“ it was blimest heights to the easy and epistolary casket richly stored with the gems of an-just the very thing he wanted." At a sestyle, and suit itself to my then gay dispo- cient and modern learning.' sition.

We shall conclude with a whimsical

anecdote of Sir Boyle Roche, who, pos-
had ministerial speeches prepared for
sessing a very extraordinary memory,
him by the late Mr. Edward Cooke,
which he used to deliver very correc-
ly:-

cond reading, his powerful memory rendered him master of the whole. He re'Mrs. Barber likewise gives her testiturned to his seat in the house, and took mony to the merit of Constantia, of whom the earliest opportunity of delivering the she declares, "that she was not only ment of the whole assembly, and to the borrowed oration, to the great astonishhappy in a fine imagination, a great memory, an excellent understanding, and an utter consternation of Mr. Stanley, who exact judgment, but had all these crownsat biting his nails with anguish, at heared by virtue and piety. She was too ing his elaborate performance, which cost learned to be vain, too wise to be con- 'There were some occasions where the him a week to manufacture, and which ceited, and too clear-sighted to be irreli-worthy baronet's eloquence was not pre- had vanished he knew not how, delivered gious. As her learning and abilities rais-viously thought necessary, and of course by Sir Boyle, and lost to his own fame for ed her above her own sex, so they left her no speech was prepared for him. But he ever. The worthy baronet, having fino room to envy any; on the contrary, was an old soldier, and too full of the nished this oration, amidst the plaudits of her delight was to see others excel. She esprit de corps, to look calmly on the his friends, returned to the coffee-room, was always ready to direct and advise conflict without a zeal for taking his share where he met the mortified composer; and, those who applied to her, and was herself of the battle. He sometimes, there, ven- without waiting for a formal denouement, willing to be advised. So little did she tured to volunteer an extempore philippic addressed him cordially with "my dear value herself upon her uncommon excel- of his own; and then it was that his native friend Stanley, here is your speech again; lencies, that she has often recalled to my genius shone with all its genuine splen- and I thank you kindly for the loan of it. mind a fine reflection of a French author, dour, pure from the mine, and unmarred! never was so much at a loss for a speech that great geniuses should be superior to by the technical touches of any treasury in all my life; but sure it is not a pin their own abilities."" artist; then it was, that all the figures of worse for wear, and now you may go in national rhetoric, to use the phrase of and speak it again yourself, as soon as you Junius, danced the hays through his please." The discomfiture of Mr. Stanspeech in all the mazes of metaphorical ley is easier conceived than described confusion." but the story caught wind, and excited infinite pleasantry at his expense.

Constantia married a Mr. George Grierson, a printer, in Dublin, for whom Lord Carteret, then Lord-lieutenant of Ireland, obtained a patent, appointing him printer to the king, in which, to distinguish and reward the merit of his wife, her life was inserted.

Upon one occasion of this kind, the worthy baronet was doomed to sit dumb, while he anxiously longed to distinguish himself in the contest. He felt his mind pregnant with ardour to shine forth. He endeavoured to collect his scattered sentiments and combine them into some shape for delivery; but in vain. He retired to the coffee-room to reconnoitre his notions, and endeavour to marshal them into some form for operation, but without effect,-all was "confusion worse confounded." A lucky expedient crossed his fancy, and he was determined to seize the opportunity.

She died in 1733, at the premature age of twenty-seven, admired and respected as an excellent scholar in Greek and Roman literature, in history, theology, philosophy, and mathematics. Her dedication of the Dublin edition of Tacitus to Lord Carteret, affords a convincing proof of her knowledge in the Latin tongue; and by that of Terence to his son, to whom she wrote a Greek epigram. Dr. Harwood esteems her Tacitus one of the best edited books ever published. She wrote many fine poems in English, but esteemed them There was a ministerial member in so slightly, that very few copies of them the house, a learned Serjeant Stanley, who were to be found after her decease. What was usually in the habit of rising towards makes her character the more remarkable the end of a long protracted debate, and is, that she rose to this extraordinary emi- about three or four in the morning, amusnence entirely by the force of natural ge-ing the house with an important speech of Hutcheson's Treatise on Beauty and Order :Th' internal senses painted here we see, They're born in others, but they live in thee; O! were our author with thy converse blest, Could he behold the virtues in thy breast, His needless labours with contempt he'd view; And bid the world not read→→→but copy you.'.

an hour or more, ingeniously compiled
from the fragments of other speeches
which he had previously heard in the
course of the discussion: but, having so
often played off this manœuvre, he was a
good deal bantered by his senatorial col-
leagues upon his skill in selection: so

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On another occasion, an opposition member had appointed a day for a popular motion, on some national subject; and, for nearly a month before, he had been daily moving for official documents, as materials to illustrate his observations. When the night for the discussion arrived, those documents appeared piled upon the table of the house in voluminous ar ray; and the orator, preparatory to his opening speech, moved that they be now read by the clerk, in order the better to prepare the house for more clearly understanding the observations he was about to submit.

This operation would have occcupied the clerk, and the silent attention of the members, for at least two hours. The house was extremely full; the whole assembly stared at each other; a rueful buzz murmured from bench to bench; and several members observed, that the reading would occupy the whole night,while others shrunk silently away, unwil ling to abide.so formidable a trial of their patience.

Sir Boyle Roche, however, suggested

a happy expedient for obviating the dif ficulty, by rising to move that a dozen or two of committee clerks might be called in, and each taking a portion of the documents, all might read together, by which means they might get through the whole in a quarter of an hour.

"This suggestion, offered with profound gravity, was so highly ludicrous, that the house joined in an universal laugh, and the question was actually postponed for the night, to give time for the mover to form a more succinct arrangement for introducing his motion.'

A Poetical Review 8vo. pp. 79. Lon

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Gordon, a Tale. of Don Juan. don, 1821. SURELY never poem was subjected to such a fate as Lord Byron's Don Juan;' unacknowledged by its publisher, censured by the critics, turned out of reading-rooms, and yet read, admired, and abused by every body. It is not enough that it should have passed the ordeal of every periodical, in the shape of review, magazine, and newspaper; but it must be submitted to a new species of scrutiny-a poetical critique, in the pamphlet before us. Our opinion of the poetical merits and moral or immoral tendency of Don Juan is on record; and it is not, therefore, again to express our admiration of the author's genius or to lament its misapplication, that we have taken up this tale, which is partly a burlesque parody on the style of Don Juan; partly a sacrifice of praise offered at the shrine of talent, and partly arguments, proving its immoral tendency.' That the author is one who is by no means insensible to the splendid talents of Lord Byron, appears throughout the whole of his poem; and there is much vigour in the poetical character which he draws of his lordship:

As a bright sun Byron conspicuous stands, And casts his glowing beams on all around; He sheds a glorious lustre o'er all lands,

He warms the empire of poetic ground; His vivifying heat o'er all commands,

The fields with verdure instantly are crowned:

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There's naught so lofty but he'll scan its
height;

There's naught so distant but 'tis ever found
Within his reach. Creation and a mite
Are one to him.
From darkness most pro-

found,

He will bring forth something unknown to light.

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There's naught so vile but he can show some No one so placed but he'll point out their du

beauties:

ties.'

Again, speaking of the poem of Don Juan:

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"O what sweet strains of poetry are here, That none can rival him in his career: Exhibiting decisive proof to all

All nature stands attentive to his call, Towering he soars above our lower sphere,

He hovers in the air, nor fears a fall,

He mounts the skies, and with a voice divine, As if by Heaven inspired, repeats each line.

How sweetly does he sing the various quali

ties

Of Donna Inez, (does he mean his wife?) Recounting one by one her partialities,

And how she occupied Irer passing life, Her dress, demeanor, learning, and formalities, In such expressions, such poetic strains, Her observations, virtues, and belief, The subject was unworthy of such pains. How suitable the language to the sense! And then its purity is quite enchanting: The o'erwhelming force of his bold eloquence, So ravishes the soul, that while 'tis planting, With all the power of its omnipotence,

The ideas in your mind which he is chanting,

Resistance all is gone, you are no longer
What once you were: the strong yields to the

stronger.

what a genius does this man possess ! What intellect, what judgment, and what skill!

There can remain no doubt of his success,

Let him take up whate'er design he will; All difficulties he, with cheerfulness,

Can soon surmount, and all his verses fill
With such exalted sense and glowing passion,

As you may feel, but 'tis beyond expression.
His mind seems formed to tower away above
The ordinary flight of noted men ;
He soars beyond our intellectual drove ;
He deigns no more to be a citizen
Where others live, but in his own alcove,
Built by his own bright genius, where the ken
Of greatest minds can scarcely penetrate,
He sits exalted, and in regal state.

From thence our transitory world he views,
And looks unmoved on all that passes here;

His light illumines, and his heat dispels
Dampness and chills, for neither near him Scorning to feel like us, be ne'er bedews

dwells.

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Our cares or sorrows with one falling tear: Life's bitterest pains, nor even death's adieus, Can ever with his calmness interfere;

He sits unmoved, and views us weeping, dying;

He neither soothes nor pities, ev'n by sighing. "His eye is still throughout our nature roaming

He paints its beauties in the fairest light, The boiling of the billows, and their foaming, The revolutions of the day and night, The beauties of those countries ever blooming,

Filling the soul with joy and sweet delight, The rising of the sun, and his retiring, Are so well told the notes seem half inspiring.

'And from his lofty station he perceives
Things all unknown to men of common
minds;

His piercing eye at once he boldly heaves
Into yet higher regions, where he finds
Those bold conceptions, he so interweaves
Throughout his work; he casts them on the
winds,

The gentle zephyrs waft them down to earth, We read, and wonder who could give them birth'

Of the influence which powerful talents will have, even when exerted in an unworthy cause, our author speaks justly :

'His florid pen is dipped, alas! too deep

In vicious sentiments' o'erwhelming ocean; With rolling rage it crushes in its sweep Each noble passion and each virtuous notion :

Though Juan is so vicious, it will keep

Its present eminence and great promotion;

So deep in glory has he dipped his pen, "Twill always be preserved and read by men. "Oh! 'tis immortal, doom'd to live for ever, To see an endless round of rolling days. When shall its glories cease? oh! never, never,

While there's a tongue in man to sound its praise;

His brilliant powers united, cannot sever

Duration and his poem, but the blaze
Which he has kindled must for ever burn,
And praise or blame him, at each flamy turn.

Would that he used his talents for our good!
To raise our race from its degrading fall:
If he man's nature fully understood,

No more would he "besmear his page with
gall,"

But o'er our natural frailties he would brood,

Not jeer our terrors, and our hopes miscall, Not laugh at all religion-our support, Nor with our pains and deaths make jocund sport.'

We are not, however, certain that Lord Byron may not, sometime hence, write and think differently from what he now does; and do not, like our author, despairing, exclaim,

❝ never will his mighty mind
Yield up its powers to aid our feeble race.'

We have seen a considerable change in his lordship's character, with respect to his friends; and we should not be much surprised to hear of his becoming a moral writer; and that, too, before he reaches the twenty-fourth canto of Don Juan. We have quoted our poetical critic largely on the talents of Lord Byron, and even in praise of the poetical merits of this poem, and we shall conclude with a severe philippic against its immoral tendency :

'Tis like Arabia's desert burning clime, Completely free from every thing that's good:

That barren wild appears the true sublime,
A boundless prospect, noble solitude:
No cypress, myrtle, citron, fig, or lime,

Can flourish there; no verdure, spring, or

wood;

But the destructive blast, the blue simoom, Lavish of murder, is its only bloom.

And there the Arabs, those detested thieves,
Rob every helpless, wandering traveller:
He, who without a loss his way achieves,
Is more than fortunate;-only transfer
These things to Juan-this as sure bereaves
Of virtue-'tis as sure a sepulchre
It breathes its burning blast-no good appears;
'Tis certain death to him who perseveres.
Virtue he makes ridiculous, and vice
Sets forth in lovely garb, a thing of worth;
Exerting all his powers and artifice

To fill our hearts with vicious baneful
mirth ;-

Our good desires he strives to sacrifice

To evil passions, which have filled the earth
Already with enough of ill, to melt
Ev'n his hard heart, could he for once have felt.

His poem has no moral life, 'tis dead,

Like Adam's body ere his spirit came : 'Tis full of moral poison; where 'tis read

It shakes and totters virtue's tender frame:

Tis like a hemlock draught, o'er which is

spread

A decorated covering; 'tis a flame
Which burns up what is good, and leaves be-

hind

Its useless ashes only in your mind.

"Tis like the manchinella, which allures By beauteous foliage, and enchanting fruit; It captivates the senses, and secures

Convenience proper to convey acute
And deadly, subtle poison; he ensures

A certain death, who, that he may recruit
Exhausted nature, sleeps too near its shade,
He sure expires where his tired limbs are laid,
'Tis like a whirlpool, which draws all that

fioat

Within its vortex, careless of their moans; Or hidden breakers, where no shoals denote Their horrid dwellings, but where all the

tones

Of calmly rolling waves invite the boat,

It glides along-heard ye those dying groans?

O shun the breakers and the whirlpool's fury, Lest to your death it should perchance allure ye "Licentiousness is his pleroma, where,

The author, in describing the predica-
ments and adventures of a nefarious
character, has accompanied each with
moral reflections, in order that they
might produce the proper effect,-a
dissuasive from evil. We, however,
much doubt, that the frequent exhi-
bition or description of scenes of vice,
how much soever it may be accompa-
nied by moral reflection, is beneficial
to society; and, notwithstanding the
antiquity and popularity of the coup-
let, we much doubt that, in the pre-
sent age, vice is considered-

'A monster of such frightful mien,
As to be hated needs but to be seen.'
It is on this account that we are
never anxious to detail scenes of suc-

cessful villainy, or to familiarize the
public to tales of fraud and robbery;
and, therefore, we shall not follow the
hero of this really amusing work through
his base but eventful life, but content
ourselves with quoting a synopsis of-

spike at the end of it, if possible, to be provided against emergencies, lest they repent of their neglect.

4. That each beggar take especial care never to presume to wear any thing torn, or patched; nothing bringing more new; that all his clothes be worn out, scandal on the profession than begging in good clothes. Be it, however, well understood, that if, in the exercise of his professional duties, a beggar chance to obtain some new garment, he is at liberty to longer. We positively will and command, deck himself out in it for that day, but no that he dispose of it the following morning.

5. To prevent any dispute that may arise between comrades for certain posts, we ordain that the more ancient possessor prevail and take precedence, without regard to persons.

6. It is permitted that two infirm or sick persons beg in company, if they provided they beg by turns and in a difplease, and call each other brothers; ferent tone, the one beginning where the other leaves off. They are to keep opposite each other on different sides of the street, each singing his own misfortunes; they may afterwards divide their profits as they please.

'The Laws of Begging.-As beggars of every nation are distinguished from each other by their different modes of imploring alms; as the Germans beg by singing, and in troops, the French by their pray- 7. It is permitted that a beggar wear ing, the Flemings by their respectful bow- an old dish-clout round his head in winings, the Bohemians by fortune-telling, ter, instead of a bonnet, that while he is the Portugueze by their crying, the Ita-protected from the cold, he may at the lians by long harangues, the English by same time appear an invalid. They are abusing, and the Spaniards by their likewise at liberty to walk with crutches, haughty growlings: we hereby command or to have one leg tied up behind them. them all to observe the following statutes, under pain of our heavy displeasure.

1. We forbid any lame or wounded beggar, of whatever nation he be, to appear in the quarters frequented by others full of health and vigour, on account of the advantage they will have over the latter. We also ordain, that all such as are in perfect health, form no manner of connexion with blind men, field-preach ers, mountebanks, poets, musicians, reHeaven scorns his rage, although he storm deemed captives, nor even with old sol

Replete with this, unenvied he may dwell: 'Gainst heaven he lifts his hand, devoid of fear, Like ancient Titians, daring to rebel;

Don Juan is his strongest weapon here

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and swell

His meed on earth for such enormous pains
Is, "Byron did it."-Is this all he gains?'

We dare say Lord Byron will laugh at this character of his poem, but, although it is somewhat severe, it contains much truth.

The Life and Adventures of Guzman
D'Alfarache; or, the Spanish
Rogue. By J. H. Brady. 2 vols.
12mo. London, 1821.
THIS work is a very splendid transla-
tion of the adventures of an incorrigi-
ble rogue and vagabond. We do not
know but that there may be many of
our own countrymen who may have
run as varied and extensive a career as
Guzman; but, with the exception of
Bamfylde Moore Carew, none of them
have had so entertaining an historian.

1

diers that have escaped from a rout, or
seamen saved from a shipwreck. For al-
though it is generally allowed, that all
these must subsist by imploring charity,
their manners of begging being different,
it is necessary that each society keep to
its own particular rules.

2. We ordain that beggars have cer-
tain taverns assigned them in every coun-
try, where shall preside three or four of
their ancients with staves in their hands,
as emblems of their authority. Which
said ancients are hereby empowered to
canvass, in the aforesaid taverns, all the
affairs of the world, and to give their opi-
nions as freely as they please. At the
same time, we permit the other beggars
to relate their own heroic exploits, as well
illustrate the conversation by boasting of
as those of their ancestors, and even to
battles they were never in.

3. We command that every beggar carry a good cudgel in his hand, with

a

8. Every beggar may have a purse and a pocket, but must receive alims in their hats only.

9. We command, that no beggar be so indiscreet as to divulge any of the mysteries of our trade, to any but such as belong to our society.

10. Should any beggar be so fortunate as to discover any new trick in the art of begging, he shall be obliged to communicate the same to the company, which ought to enjoy in common the benefit arising from the genius of any of its members. As a recompense, however, to the inventor, and to stimulate his genius to new discoveries, we decree, that he have an exclusive privilege to make the most of his device for three months, during which time we peremptorily forbid any other belonging to our fraternity from interfering with his practice, under pain of confiscating to his use all the profits that may be derived therefrom.

11. We exhort the members of this society, freely and faithfully to make known to each other all the houses where they know that either private or public alms are likely to be dispensed; especially those in which gaming or courting is going forward; for, in such places, large receipts are certain.

12. We command, that no beggar presume to keep, or lead about with him, any hunting, setting, or other dogs; blind men being allowed to be conducted

fered great injury by means of false certificates of character. How many merchants have been ruined by un

by a little cur, with a string round its treated favourably, we will and ordain, neck. This prohibition is not meant to that for the future any brother who shall extend to such of our fraternity as may have attained the age of twelve years, chance to possess dogs of talent. These shall be only obliged to pass a noviciate of may be allowed to exhibit their perform-three years instead of five; and we insist, principled clerks; warehouses broken that after the said term of three years, he open by supposed confidential ware be considered a graduate in the profes-housemen; and have not householders sion, and as a subject who has duly com- been murdered in their sleep by the plied with and fulfilled all the laws of the connivance of treacherous servant girls! institution. On the other hand, where integrity is. proved, the master or mistress must be, indeed, an ungrateful being who would undervalue those services which are continually devoted to either or both.

ances as usual, by making their dogs dance or jump through hoops; but they must not presume to take their station at a church-door, where other beggars of the society may be assembled, on account of the great advantage they will have over them.

13. We command, that no beggar venture to buy meat or fish in the market on his own account, except in a case of extreme necessity; very ill consequences may arise from so doing.

14. We permit all such beggars as have no children of their own, to hire as many as four, to lead about with them into the churches on festivals; they should not be above five years old, and, if possible, should appear to be twins. If a female conduct them, she should never fail to have one always at her breast; and if a man, he must be sure to carry one on his arm, and lead the next by the other hand.

15. We command, that those beggars who have any children, instruct them up to the age of six years in the best mode of making collections in churches; that, after having taught them to ask charity for their father and mother, who lie on their

beds at home most dangerously ill, they ter not entirely to lose sight of them. As soon, however, as these children shall have attained their seventh year, we command that they be left to shift for themselves, as being already majors, and that their parents be content to restrict and compel them to return home at stipulated hours.

allow them to go alone, though it were bet

16. Beggars of the old stamp, who consider it a point of honour to walk in the footsteps of their ancestors, who have trained them to the profession of begging, will never allow their children to take any other trade than their own, nor to degrade themselves by entering into the service of any one; and if these children wish to be thought worthy of their parents, they will hold every other condition in abhor

rence.

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20. At the same time we require of the said brother, that he make oath never to desert our society, but continue attached to it, and never think of withdraw. ing himself from our service without our especial leave; promising to pay due submission and obedience to our statutes, Original Communications. under pain of our highest displeasure.'

'OURSELVES.'

To the Editor of the Literary Chronicle.

Yatton under Roseberry Toppin, 12th October.

4 Letter, addressed to the Agricul-
turalists in general, and to the Ma-
gistrates and Clergy, on the Subjects I'LL tell you what, Mr. Editor, I am
of Hiring, Service, and Character; not going to be after being triffed with
to which are added, printed Forms
by your criticisms any longer at my
of Contract between the Master and
Servant; also, a Table, shewing what expense; do you think I am going to
portion of the Poor or other Rates of berry Toppin, merely to see my arti-
pay postage every week from Rose-
each County is annually expended incles quizzed in your notices to corres➡
suits of Law, Removals, &c. amount- pondents; had I known you were an
ing, in the whole, to the annual aver-Atheist before, I would have had no
age Sum of 327,500l. By a Coun-
You will, per-
connexion with you.
try Magistrate. Post 4to. 1821.
EVERY publication, which has for its haps, deny you are an Atheist, but I
will prove it. Don't you make a
object the removing of the grievances mockery of the article in the name of
of masters and servants, and of reliev-
God, amen?' now, sir, you would not
ing parishioners of rates and other little have done that had you not been an
troublesome affairs, deserves to be Atheist-but, sir, I would have you
widely circulated and generally read.
to know that whatever your corres-
It but too often happens that arbitra-
tion is referred to, and litigation en-last will and testament, and I hope to
pondent may be, I am not yet at my
sues between employers and the em-
ployed, through the want of legal ad-
vice or a conciliating spirit..
author has been so descriptive in his
title page, we have but little opportu-
nity to extend our review of his 'Let-
ter,' which occupies about ten pages
of sixty-four. Of his quotations from
our judges, with regard to the duties
of masters and servants, we make one

extract:

As our

'A character is the only property which many people can call their own; and when untarnished, is the most valuable that any man can possess. I beg to be allowed to give a legal caution, by way of protection to the servant, against the malice of the master: viz. "that if without ground, and purely to defame, a false character is given, it will be a proper ground of action."-Judge Mansfield. And let me add, that, though in justice, master ought not, perhaps, to refuse to give a character to a servant who demands it, "by law he is not bound to give any character at all; although, if he do, he must take care to give a true one."'

a

We are certain that society has suf

torment you a good while before you die, unless you make the amende honorable, and we may yet be friends, if you are not an Atheist.-I will convince you I am of some consequence, Yorkshireman; and for all that, I can though you cocknies may call me a shew you some famous errors in the text of your paper: I will only take the last few numbers; but, if you wish it, I will send you another article, containing all the mistakes and blunders your corres pondents have made, since the first. number of the Literary Chronicle. I wait your answer, which I trust will be favourable to my design.

I don't like, sir, to see things done by. halves. In the number for Sept. 8th, you state the fact of a deaf and dumb boy being presented to Louis XVIII., and who had been employed three years, in making, out of his own head, a fine paste-board palace.-You should have added, in justice to the munificence of his most Christian majesty, that the king tapped him on the

about the infernal cookery of a goose,
page 596; I will, therefore, tell you
what I saw when I was at Strasburg,

shoulder, and expressed, by signs, his
royal approbation of the work. You
are a democrat or a radical, or you
would not have left out such an im-in 1816.-You must know Strasburg
portant circumstance.
is famous for goose liver patties, and
I see, by your inquiries, you are no elegant Parisian dinner is complete
anxious to know something about without one; they are thus prepared:
Crossfield, who shot at the king; you the feathers are plucked from the
may rely on the following anecdote, I breast of a goose, her feet are nailed
had it from the father of a respectable and tied down to a board, which is
bookseller in your city-Crossfield placed before a large fire, a pan of
served his apprenticeship, I believe, at milk is set before the goose; as she be-
Masham, in Yorkshire, to an apothecomes incommoded by the heat, she is
cary: he was always a sad dog, that is forced to drink; the thirst increases,
to say, a merry one; there was, in the and she has no other means of calming
place, an old cobbler, who was called her agony but by drinking; she is thus
Thomas,-his usual oath was, ' may the tortured until she dies; the whole frame
devil fetch me if it be not true.'-Tho- is disordered, and fit for nothing, but
mas was a bachelor, and as he had no- the liver is swelled to an enormous
thing to be robbed of, never locked his size, and of this they make their fa-
door over night. Crossfield clad him- mous patties, which, I confess, I
self in a cow's skin, with a pair of tre- thought a great delicacy, until I knew
mendous horns, put two lamp glasses how they were obtained.
in the place of the eyes, and penetrated
easily into Thomas's room, who was
sound asleep; C. had some large pins
stock in a card, and scratched the
cobbler's face, uttering, with a loud
voice, Thomas, I've come for thee !'-
The poor cobbler started from his bed,
gave a horrid scream, ran into the street
naked, and Crossfield after him; he
fell down with fright and swooned, C.
With all due reverence, permit me
threw off his disguise, and others com- to correct two notable mistakes in page
ing up, they picked up the poor cob-622: you say the plain song (chaunt)
bler, took him home, and when he was so called, as the choir and people
came to his senses, he looked wildly sing in unison.-No, sir; the word
round him, and asked if they had not plain is a corruption of the French
seen the devil; he then related the sto-word plein (full), introduced by a per-
ry with many embellishments, that he son who did not know its meaning; it
had fought with the devil half an hour, is called, therefore, plein chant (full
and, to be brief, Thomas reformed, and song), because the choir and people
never invoked the devil afterwards. sing in unison. In the same page I
find the following —

In your life of Mrs. Iuchbald, is a remark that George Colman said he seldom read 'five act pieces of anonymous authors; this affords me an opportunity of removing much of the odium thrown by disappointed authors on theatrical managers. No author will think, that less than a day ought to be devoted to his often illegible MS. to form a sound judgment upon it. Now, sir, the average number of pieces presented by would-be dramatists, is between twelve hundred and thirteen hundred per annum, or what would take one man four years to decide upon, or four persons constantly employed the whole year !!

Break your printer's head or your own, I do not cure which, for having, (page 574) printed bras, arm-for brasses, fathonis.

I perceive you have some doubt

You mention four-and-twenty blackbirds baked in a pye,'-when the late Mr. Pye was made laureat, his first ode was all about birds and the vocal groves, on which George Selwyn exclaimed, and when the pye was opened the birds began to sing, and was not that a dainty dish to set before the king.'

Thou unhappy king of no land,
More wretched than the King of Poland.'
Lord, sir, what blunders are here.
Louis XVIII. or Monsieur, as he was
called in his brother's life time, did
not assume the title of Louis XVIII.;
on his brother's death, 1793, the Dau-
phin was then alive, and, by law, king;
he only assumed the title after the
death of the Dauphin, in 1797. Again,
did the Venetian address Louis XVIII.
in English? he did not understand a
word of it, and in no other language
will the term of no land rhyme to Po-
land. This foolish distich, however,
intitles its author to the praise of,
though he is not witty himself, being
the cause of it in others.
King John
of England was nick-named by Philip
of France, Jean Sans Terre, John lack
land or no land. A man of the name

of Santerre commanded the troops at the execution of Louis XVI. I was in Paris at the time, and dined at a table d'hôte some days after with this man, who was boasting of his preventing Louis XVI. from addressing the people. I wonder,' said one of the party, that you should be such an enemy of kings, who, as I can prove, are descended from one'-'what, I descended from a tyrant! never! Yes, citizen, from a tyrant and a coward; you are descended from the King of England, Jean Sans Terre;' the whole party laughed, save Santerre, who said, my friend, the joke is a very good one, but pray do not breathe it beyond the walls of this room, for, in the present state of the public mind, it would be sufficient to send me to the scaffold.

Now, Mr. Editor, I think I have given you a good article on your 'Bee," and if you don't insert it, you may get a hornet's nest about you, for I will print it and shame the fools.'

Your devoted humble servant and Constant reader,'

SOUR CROUT. PS. I am told the Quarterly Review gives one hundred guineas for an article. You shall have mine regularly once a week for ten guineas, which I expect you will jump at.

PROCLAMATION OF CHARLES
THE FIRST.

To the Editor of the Literary Chronicle.

SIR,-Since the time of the Stuarts, I
do not believe that any sovereign of
England has, in addition to his other
virtues, assumed that of being able to
cure diseases by touching; with that
unfortunate family, it appears to have
been one of the prerogatives of royalty
frequently exercised. In a late number,
you inserted a Gazette notice of Charles
the Second on the subject, and I now
forward you a proclamation of his
father and predecessor, Charles the
First, suspending his operations, on ac-
count of prevailing sickness, with
which he was afraid of coming in con-
tact.
I am, your's, &c.
Oct. 16, 1821.
* By the King,
A proclamation for suspending the time
of healing the disease called the king's
evil, until Easter next.

L. G.

Whereas, the king's most excellent majesty, by his proclamation, dated the times of his healing the disease, called the 1st day of July last, did prescribe the king's evil, to be Michaelmas and Easter, or within fourteen days next, before or after those feasts; nevertheless his ma jesty being now informed, that the sick↓

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