Inspect their pregnant columns, there you'll find
Science enough to stupify the mind:

Ross teaches you the science of a curl, a
While Brodum bids you safely take a girl; ↳

a Ross. This man has given us science in the names, at least, of his apologies for baldness; for instance, "The crown of Canathos," "The Euodian Ringlet," and divers other magnificent and sounding titles that quite eclipse, the poor "altum sagana Caliendrum" of Horace.

b Brodum. Since Dr. Brodum has made a donation of fifty pounds to one of our hospitals, and as he is made a governor for life of I know not what institution (as he is at the pains of telling us every day in an elaborate advertisement, which sets forth his charity, and extols his medicines), I cannot do less than give room to one of the advertisements of this Medicinal Doctor Trusler, copied (not indeed literatim, for I have attempted to make English of it) from the Times:

ADVERTISEMENT.

When Moliere was at his last gasp, and the priest had besmeared him with the most holy unction, as they call it, "Well now," says he, "I am pretty well furnished for my expedition, for you have equipped me with an oilskin coat, and greased my boots into the bargain."....And yet there have been numbers equally as near their exit to every appearance as Moliere, and notwithstanding have escaped the journey, while disappointed sextons, grave-diggers, and undertakers have hauled down curses on that modern Æsculapius.....Dr. Brodum!!!

Senate's love-stirring Lozenges of steel, a
And cures for pains you feel, or think you feel;
Health, and long life, and Analeptic pills,
For ills unknown to mortuary bills;
Elixirs, Balms of Gilead, meet the eye, b
Demand your lips, and for precedence cry;

Brodum, who oft the hostile hand of death,
Hath by plenipotent repulsion foiled!
Baffled the leveller when the bow was bent,

And, in despight of his destructive aim,

Made him return his arrows to their quiver:

Witness his "GUIDE to AGE,"

His "NERVOUS CORDIAL" and "BOTANIC SYRUP!!"
At which the King of Terrors shrinks appalled,
Checked and impeded in his proud career!

A dread presentiment that all his triumphs
Will to his own annihilation tend,

"And Death be swallowed up in Victory."

If any thing can exceed the folly of this advertisement, it is the presumptuous madness of its three last lines.

a Senate's, &c. Dr. Senate is another gentleman of the many who, in compassion to the prevailing vice, and consequent imbecility of the rising generation, have the charity to vend their Aphrodisiacs for the benefit of the public. A late trial, however, has shown that to pay for, and to insert an advertisement in the daily papers are two things.

b Balms of Gilead. I was informed by a gentleman of Liverpool, some time ago, that Dr. Solomon once actually re

With these a never to be numbered throng a
Of Patents claim the celebrating song;
Coffins that mock the surgeon's carving room,
And wrap you snugly till the day of doom;
Razors that shave without the aid of hands,
Wigs, Waterclosets, Blacking for St. James's

Bands:

All these, and more I know not how to name,
All these stand up competitors for fame;
Each his pretensions on his merit founds,

The public thinks that each for hope has grounds;
But, could the public view them with my eyes,
Packwood and Hanger should divide the prize;

galed a large party with Balm of Gilead Punch! If we are to estimate the value of the beverage by the Doctor's account of the tedious chemical process by which his Balm is prepared, and by the price he has affixed to it, Imperial Tokay, or the costly Lacrima Christi, would have been economy itself compared with this profusion.

a The Tatler has given a good account of an advertising paper: "If a man," says he, "has pains in his head, cholics in his bowels, or spots in his clothes, he may here meet with proper cures and remedies. If a man would recover a horse or a wife that is stolen or strayed, if he wants new sermons, electuaries, or asses milk, or any thing else, either for his body or his mind, this is the place to look for them in." No. 224.

At least till Beddoes deigns to let us see
A patent gained for immortality.

a

F. Mere idle mockery! Yet you'll forbear, To touch the arts, at least the pencil spare.

A. One art at least, and with exulting eyes, One art, at least, I see from darkness rise; Emerge in splendour to adorn our isle,

Cheered by a gracious Monarch's fostering smile. Though Bromley rails, and swears our English school b

Has not yet passed the art's first vestibule,
Because the' Academy could find no nook
Fit to receive the dulness of his book;

a See the Doctor's notice of observations made at his me. dical pneumatic institution.

b Bromley. The artists of the present day have found a spirited and elegant partizan in Mr. Tresham, who inflicted poetical chastisement upon Mr. Bromley, in his "Sea-sick Minstrel," with much spirit, yet without descending from the language of a gentleman. Mr. T. is an amiable man, and in the professional exercise of his abilities, merits a great portion of that praise which he has bestowed, perhaps with a hand not sufficiently discriminating, on the members of the Royal Academy.

Though Wolcott a rails on West....though he lets

fall

The bitterness and rancour of his gall,
Or boldly ventures, in the tones of spleen,
To criticise b a work he has not seen;
Yet, by Saint Luke, I mock their moody ire,
Thrown as it is on talents all admire.

Thee, West, the various powers of art obey,
The great, the graceful, terrible, and gay :
With equal ease thy skilful pencil roves
Through flowery fields with Venus and her doves;

a Taci, maladetta lupa !

Consuma dentro te con la tua rabbia.

DANTE.

It is difficult to conjecture why Mr. West should have been the particular object of this man's attacks, unless we suppose that Mr. W's worth as a man, in addition to the station he holds as an artist, may have rendered him peculiarly cdious to dealers in scurrility, and obnoxious to that abuse which ever assails the fairest and best of characters.

b To term this man's remarks " criticism," is to be guilty of a most flagrant euphemismus. It is worthy of remark that Mr. or Dr. Wolcott has published a set of prints from his own drawings, and notwithstanding the abilities of Mr. Alken have been employed upon them, they are most miserable performances. That this is the fault, not of the engraver, but of the designer, I am well assured, as I have seen some of his wretched attempts at crayon painting.