entirely from his own reflections, has given to his style, both of thinking and writing, a characteristical unity and simplicity, seldom to be met with in so voluminous an author." We are told by Dr Kennett, bishop of Peterborough, that Hobbes frequently said, "Had I read as much as some of my antagonists, I would have been as ignorant." The greatest minds appear to supply aliment to themselves. It is not likely that Homer read or borrowed much. Shake speare was but little indebted to the schools. Burns came, like the prophet Elisha, from the plough. Milton is the only example we find, in which great genius is combined with vast erudition; and he rose superior to the trammels of scholastic rule, by being tossed on the stormy surges of civil war and revolution, which defeat the ordinary calculations of men, and, in the shock of conflicting interests and passions, elicit talents and genius, formerly unknown to their unconscious possessors. We need not be surprised, therefore, that Dr Reid formed no exception to a rule so general. "We may appear to some," says this luminary of the LONDON, " to have done injustice to Mr Stewart!" Indeed! that is very candid, surely, considering the formidable nature of the assault!--the great learning and skill of the assailant!—and the singular accuracy of his statements; points which the foregoing examination so clearly establishes!! For his comfort, however, I can assure the scribe of Taylor and Hessey, on the very best authority, that Mr Stewart is about as likely to be hurt by his "injustice," as the Bank of England to be rendered bankrupt by the loss of a farthing, or the Castle of Edinburgh to surrender to the assault of some dozen starving Glasgow Radicals, armed with shuttles and pike-staves. I believe, however, that this is the first attack made on Mr Stewart either at home or abroad; and I cannot deny myself the pleasure of exclaiming, “O, si sic omnes! *" Yours, &c. Aberdeen. Preliminary Observations. ONE of the inconveniencies which arise from fictitious narratives is, that when once these have gained ground, and become popular, nothing else will go down. A plain matterof-fact story wants seasoning, and is regarded with that air of contempt with which a Frenchman turns from more homely fure, to his "salmagundi," and "bubble and squeak.” But this is not the whole amount, or nearly so, of the evil. Fiction having assumed the air and the firm step of truth, it is scarcely possible for the most practised and acute observer to distinguish the reality from the counterfeit. The author of the Man of Feeling has set out, by giving us a circumstantial account of the manner in which, by the merest accident, he lighted upon the MS. which he was about to publish; and the respectable and venerable author of the Life of John Knox, Dr MacCrie, of Edinburgh, accompanies some extracts from the work, by an account of a similar way in which he fell in with "Sir George Mackenzie's History of his Own Times." Possessed of no means beyond the simple statements of the author themselves, to verify or to disprove the reality of these "findings," what is the great majority of readers to do? Accredit every thing which bears the stamp and wears the garb of credibility, and thus be exposed to every species of foolery? Or, by rejecting one and all, in the absence of all means of discrimination, become deprived of these great and manifest advantages which result from the study of real history?. It is upon the horns of this dilemma that the reader of the simple verity I am about to advance, must, in spite of all the system of tuition by monitors is partially adopted ?" Is it so in Constable and Company's? Who are your moniMurtech MacFlagel, tors? and whom do they admonish? What does this same R. mean by saying: "In the High-Street of Edinburgh, my exertions, hang, as he can only have my simple asseveration in proof of the fact I am about to state. It was about half a year ago that I was called to witness the last moments of "my uncle, the clergyman," of whom, and of whose peculiarities, you and I had some talk the last time we met. Having died a bachelor, and in possession of a few hundreds, which he had ventured, without either parsimony or extravagance, to save, for the behoof of two unmarried sisters, now in "business" in Edinburgh, he left me sole executor, with directions to examine an old trunkful of papers which he had stowed out of the way, in the garret, and to burn all and sundry which were not connected with business." In looking over these papers, I found a great deal to amuse and interest me-scraps of songs, unfinished essays, sketches of magnificent plans original ideas, floating about on the blank corners of letters and now and then some exquisitely beautiful pieces of pathos and sentiment. Having at last fished out, by means of a hatband which had found its way through this "rudis indigestaque moles," near to the surface, a rather bulky assortment of closely-written and carefullyarranged sheets, my curiosity was immediately excited by the inscription, now scarcely legible from dust, or mildew, upon the back-" A True and Authentic History of ILL TAM," written with the view of preserving the recollection of my early habits and impressions-of describing the gradual developement of my moral and intellectual powers, together with the means whereby, under every external disadvantage, I was enabled, ultimately, through many difficulties, to attain that respectable and useful oface I now hold. My first impulse was to learn this, as evidently unconnected with any thing which could be called "business;" but having peeped at "the beginning, the midale, and the end"-these essential parts of an epic poem and a suet pudding-I could not feel in my heart to commit this evidently favourite child of my deceased relative to the flames. Yet his dying commands were imperative and sacred, and I was for some time at a loss how to act; till, having taken a trip in the steam-boat to Edinburgh on purpose, I laid the matter before the twain sisterhood formerly alluded to, who, after mature deliberation, were of opinion, that, if a few pounds, in these "slack" times, (it was the month of October,) could be made of the MS. it was all fair; and the papers might, in that case, without any very extraordinary stretch of meaning, be construed into "business." I allowed myself to be persuaded by this somewhat suspicious logic; but then, after the great question was disposed of, there still remained several minor points to settle. The elder of the two sisters, who is, indeed, a kind of author herself, having written, as I am told, an article or two for the Religious Instructor, -was clearly of opinion that we should make a volume of it; and that, from her acquaintance with Oliver & Boyd, for some of whose relatives she sometimes did a little in the way of "business," she had no doubt but the book would bring something pretty handsome, when well and knowingly pushed. The younger sister, whose wit seemed less inventive, appeared quite at a stand what to propose, only she said she had serious objections to Oliver & Boyd as publishers, though the ground of her aversion, from a kind of habitual and significant caution, she did not think proper to signify. This proposal being relinquished, we next came to think of a partial publication, as there did appear in the MS. even to the eye of friendship, some things, as the elder matron observed, “ a wee flat;" and as "Magazines" were the fittest vehicle for this purpose, we next set about discussing the various merits and "In business,” is a term of pre-emi-vantages which each presented. nence, and applies to the only "business" to which a creditably brought-up girl can now-a-days resort for an honest subsistence, viz. "the driving of a needle for one purpose or another," through ladies' clothing. From reasons which, in the course of this narrative, you will readily guess, Religious Magazines could not be resorted to. Waugh having undergone a recent metamorphosis "in nova corpora," was evidently out of the question, The Episco palian Quarterly was equally so-and thence there remained nothing for us but you or your rival. Now, it is quite natural for you to suppose, that there would be little subject of hesitation here-yet hesitate we did, I can assure you-and that for a long while. The younger sister made a vigorous stand for your rival. The elder lady, however, was of a different opinion; and after having uttered a number of rather forbidding and unhandsome epithets, against the Princes-street crew, as she was pleased to characterize them, she said, that the Scots Magazine had been taken in by her father, and likewise by her deceased brother; (or, vice versâ, I forget which;) that it was still highly respectable; and that it was by far the fittest vehicle for conveying down to posterity the valuable information contained in her brother's MS. I confess, Sir, that, for some time, I rather sided with the younger legatee; but the elder matron seeming quite firm and resolved, and the younger appearing to lose ground at every encounter, I at last threw my acquaintanceship with you into the preponderating scale, which decided the question. But, before advancing further, let me make you fully acquainted with the conditions upon which we proceed. Having had, myself, a little dealing with the book-making and publishing tribe, I am not ignorant of the tricks of your craft. My intention, then, in my future communications, is not to give you my uncle's narrative in a continuous and uninterrupted stream-this would, indeed, be too much of a good thing -but I mean, every now and then, and precisely as I (not you, observe) may see occasion, to suspend the story, or disquisition, until I have pointed out to you, and to the public at large, those beauties and valuables, whether of style or of matter, which, in the absence of some such method as this, are but too apt to be passed over unappreciated. It is, in fact, a review, rather than a publication, we are about to attempt; and, if we find the thing in this state take, which, thus puffed into observation, it can scarcely fail to do, then we come down upon the public with a New-year's-day Present-to the tune of "just ten and sixpence, Sir, only ten and sixpence."-It was the old absurd method, first to pub'lish the work, and then to persuade some Reviewer into a favourable conviction of its merit. This was beginning the business at the wrong end. The method I have just suggested is not only sanctioned by recent and highly respectable authority, but, in plain common sense, is infinitely preferable; for, when a work is before the public, the public `may-and, in fact, will-judge for itself. It is only in the absence of the original-when all access is denied to the fountain-head, that specimens, or pitcherfuls, are really valuable. In short, my offer shall be, to perform the part of the ancient chorus on the stage-by letting my audience know, that they have ears for the purpose of hearing-and memories, in order to remember.-" Sed hæc hactenus," as Cicero says.-Let us now proceed with my Uncle's True and Authentic History of "ILL TAM." Auto-biography, if conducted with candour and ingenuousness, is, undeniably, the most valuable of all personal narratives. It is, in fact, the only avenue by which we can approach those fountains and springs of conduct-these wells of life-from which originate and descend the various issues and streams of lifeThe act that is seen, and the motive which is unseen-the expres sion of the voice, and the language of the heart-are often so widely at variance, and yet that incongruity is so artfully concealed, that the most sagacious and discerning are liable to be imposed upon. With one set of Biographers, for example, our great Presbyterian Reformer, John Knox, ranks amongst the order of most distinguished orators and disinterested patriots ;-whilst another class deny him common honesty and common prudence-loading him with designs and motives, of which, in the esteem of others, he was indeed utterly incapable. There is no doubt that an auto-biographer may even mistake, and consequently mis-state some parts of his character; the real intention, like the inner peel of an onion, may be wrapt up in such a multiplied coating of seeming and more seemly motiyes, that self-love may penetrate no deeper than the surface. This, for a time, may blind and incapacitate for fair statement and candid induction; but, when one looks coolly back, as I do now, (1820,) upon one's past conduct, and upon the springs which influenced and directed its great and leading movements, the general character forms a pretty correct standard of adjustment, by which every particular, and subordinate, and component part, is to be measured. Passion and prejudice are indeed dismal distorters and disfigurers of the truth, when the mind is in a state of agitation; but, so soon as, through the calming influence of time, this agitation has ceased, objects appear pretty much in their proper and relative bulk and bearing. The fact is, that the main danger lies, not in the correctness of self-apprehension, but in the fairness of self-description. Those who give a narrative of their own lives, with a reference to the public, are exposed to two great temptations to error, from which others, who have no such object in what they state, are exempted. In the first place, they are apt, such is the weakness of human nature, to deviate from a full and fair developement of those acts, or traits, of character which are unfavourable. They wish to stand higher in the public estimation, than, according to their own consciousness, they really deserve; and, in the next place, they are in danger of giving a fictitious, rather than a real statement. They are apt to fancy for themselves a mould of particular dimensions, into which, altogether independently of the real size and bearings of their character, they must be crammed, often neck and heel, to the utter marring and disfiguring of the na tural shape. Nor, when we consider the received practice of the histo rians of real or fictitious narrative, is this at all surprising. The hero of a novel, and the principal character of a real history, are both subject to this mode of adjustment. It is not a subject of inquiry with the writer what did, or how felt this or that individual? but what was it con VOL. IX. sistent with his "character" with that uniform in which imagination has invested him, that he should feel and act?-Thus we have most beau tiful pictures of "Le vrais semblable," whilst the elder and far more valuable relative, "le vrais," is ut terly neglected and despised. This man is " a miser"-that a spendthrift-that an epicure-that ambitious-and that irresolute;--and, within the precincts of these limited and artificial enclosures, all their respective motives and actions are com pelled to walk, like imprisoned captives, to the end of the narrative. The unhappy culprits who have been urged into their most princely residence on the Calton-hill, are not more completely separated and se gragated, by a stone wall, with a chevaux-de-frize, than are the promi nent figures of historical or fictitious narrative, by the arbitrary and insu❤ perable adjustments of what is term ed keeping and inconsistency. Now, an auto-biographer has all this temp tation to resist all this popular feel ing to oppose all this tendency to imitation coolly and resolutely to calculate upon and rectify. He who writes the account of his own feelings, intentions, and actions, without any reference to any standard whatever, who has not the slightest suspicion that he is delineating what is called character, or life, will give us at least one chapter of "the History of Man ;"-he may, indeed, (and will have carefully to guard against doing so,) fatigue us with what is dull, trivial, and uninteresting; but he cannot mislead us into false and sophisticated conceptions of huma nity. Man is an animal of which it may be predicted, take him indi vidually, that he has no character at all.' His inconsistencies are so multiplied-there is such a difference betwixt himself at one time, and under one set of circumstances, and himself, at another time, and under a different arrangement of circum→ stances there is so little of what you may regard as essential and stationary colouring in his nature, that he fre quently exhibits all the tints of the rainbow, all the hues of the cameleon, successively, and in a very short pe riod of time. I have known a man of extreme sobriety, drunk as David's 4 B sow; a brave man pusillanimous; and a man of honesty hanged for sheep-stealing. I have known a man of real worth and sterling genius not occasionally, but always a hog; a person of known humanity, guilty of fratricide; and a true patriot, Chancellor of the Exchequer. No man proceeding from his past, can prophesy with certainty respecting his future views or sentiments. "Is thy servant a dog?" said Hazael, with revolt, and unaffected indignation. Yet Hazael afterwards became the very dog he shrunk from in anticipation, with so much detestation and abhorrence. The truth is, that the characters of fiction, and, too frequently, of what is termed "history," who strut before us with the air and importance of "individuality," are all "abstract conceptions.' They are the representatives of classes, and are habited in the average quantity and quality of disposition, and consequent exhibition, which that class is judged to be capable of. What are our "Vicars of Wakefield”- -our "Rob Roys"our" Micah Balwhidders"-but idealities of this description as far removed from any individuality, as the term "bonitas" is from the notion implied in the original "bonus" as the abstract of a Lord Mayor is from him who cuts and carves at a city feast. Having weigh ed, therefore, and considered, these things well, I have come to the determination, for my own amusement, and for the amusement of a few of my most intimate and confidential friends alone, to give a fair history of one individual, at least, in as far as words are capable of doing so. From the earliest period of my recollection, I was known by the designation of "Ill Tam." Now, as ill is a contraction of evil, and that again is four-fifths of the very devil himself, it may very naturally be concluded, from this circumstance, that I was early distinguished amongst my compeers, by an evil or diabolical disposition or conduct; but no such thing is meant, or, in allegorical language, expressed by the term. When a father affirms his son is "a sad rogue," or his mother asserts "he is an everlasting torture," there is no suggestion given, or meant to be given, of downright roguery and absolute perversity. Nay, as these, and similar phrases, are applied, they are actually regarded as kindly appellatives, and are often valued by those to whom they are addressed, more highly than terms of a less suspicious cast. The truth seems to be, that the spirit and energy which is implied, and is indeed a prominent circumstance in all of them, is a quality to youth, in all its buoyancy and activity, of so congenial and flattering a nature, that any pill thus gilt will go down. Milton's Satan himself is not admired for his wickedness, but for those powers and talents which, under the influence of his detestable disposition, he is observed to exerciseBe this as it may, I can still distinctly recollect, that instead of being dissatisfied with my title, I was not a little proud of it; and I verily believe, that my conduct then, and long afterwards, was considerably modified by my desire to act in consistency with the honourable appellation conferred upon me. Such is the power of a name. A name will make one bold as a lion, or timid as a dove; fierce as a tiger, or gentle as a lamb. I'd as lief bind my son (that is, if I had one) an apprentice to a Methodist, as call him "Ebenezer." Andrew would push him on to the stage to a certainty ; and William would make a sighing sentimental milksop of him for life. If I wished my daughter to run off with a recruiting sergeant, I would christen her Susan, and call her "Suky;" Tibby would infallibly convert her into a romp; and Marion into a devotee of ribbons and looking-glasses. Say to your boy, look up, my "brave fellow ;" and he quickly assumes the bearing of a Hercules, and the attitude of an Alexander. Call him "a silly laddie," and he sneaks like a beasted cur; or pronounce him a "havering idiot," and it is ten to one but your opinion is soon verified. And, in like manner, bestow upon him, or rather permit his fellows to bestow upon him, the suspicious designation I have just mentioned, and he becomes incontinently a worker of all manner of waggery, a contriver of all manner of plot, and a deviser (no matter at |