Gentleman, query relative to 43,- Girardelli, the fire-eater, 378. Guide, the Swiss 345. Guiomar, the death of 123. H. the petition of abused 193. Hallowe'en, account of 126. Love and reason, 38. Loves of the Angels, r 1. Pere la Chaise, 127. Pictures, Garrick's 220. Luigi, the honest lacquey 248. Manners, national 233,-Indian 265. Mc. Quin, abbe, memoir of 250. Hannibal and Alexander the Great, Melody, sacred 199,-Persian 306,314 characters of 303. Happiness, essay on 221. Harcourt, Earl, epistle to 210. Hats and heads, remarks on 135. Health, imagination on the 226. Heroism, act of 194, 346. Hindoos, burning of 345. Hurricane, a West Indian 141,-of Husband, the justified 40,-the dissi- Hutton, Dr. Charles, memoir of 45. Hypocrisy, latin essay on 90,-trans- India, the daisy in 186,-black ants Inquisition, dungeons of the 307. Isoard, anecdote of 219. Jam, rhubarb 188. January, the first of 4. Jenner, Dr. memoir of 45. Kibitz, 246. King of the Peak, r 173. Lacon, extracts from 392. Ladies, Creole 291. Lady, satirical address to a 127. Laurie, Andrew, the return of 255. Lectures, public, letters on 302, 309, Leeches, breeding of 395. Lisbon in 1822, 290. Memorandum-book, from my 200. Merlin, the pupil of 262. Meteorology, 32, 39, 67, 105, 139. Miseries, more 56, 74,-French 298, 161. Mongibello, the hermit of 287. Moore, Sir John, lines on 43. Musie, instrumental 136,-family 249, Narrative, affecting 385. Neva, the water of the 211. Old man, the 126. Orthography, 16, 38, 71, 104. Paul, the emperor, anecdotes of 227. Pendulum, the discontented 146. Pies, query relative to 318,-answer 116. Poetry, every number. Poetry, beauties of English 3, 14,-- Slaves, fidelity of 298. Snakes, rattle 137. Snood, the silken, with original music, Society, sketches of 94,-Manchester Soliloquy, the bachelor's 136. Sonnets, 4, 80, 169, 274, 290, 312, Sound, velocity of 323. Poisons, essays on 141, 156, 181, 214. Sporting-box, my 57. Poker, the 201. Politeness, 418. Portrait, extraordinary 137. Prairie-wolves, 299. Presentiment, 294. Sports, civic 289. Stael, Madame de, memoir of 224. St. Mary's church spire, account of Presents, the misery of receiving 392. Steam-engine, potatoes useful in the Pride and ignorance, 261. Pyoneers, or the Sources of the Sus- Quadrille and country dance, 208. Quentin Durward, r 165. Races, Epsom 188. Rainy-day, thoughts on 413. 388, 396. Repartee, 68, 415. Reptiles, benefits derived from 66. r 115. Thieving, dexterity in 260. Return, the 64,-the soldier's 189, Titles, antiquity of 161. the wanderer's 272. Rogers' astronomical lectores, letter Scales, the philosopher's 96,-philo- Seneca, translation from 328. Treacle, Diana, letter of 33. Turner, Mr. T. vase presented to 268. Window, inscription upon a 195. Witchcraft, belief in 305. Women, receipt for making 89,- praise of 267. Wood-ticks, 299. Wren, Sir. C. memoir of 86. Writing, secret 21. Writings and inks, 286. A LITERARY AND SCIENTIFIC MISCELLANY. This Paper is Published Weekly, and may be had of the Booksellers in Manchester; of Agents in many of the principal Towns in the Kingdom; and of the News-carriers. The last column is open to ADVERTISEMENTS of a LITERARY and SCIENTIFIC nature, comprising Education, Institutions, Sules of Libraries, &c. No. 49.-VOL. II. FOR THE IRIS. THE AUGUSTAN AGE. No. IV. PERHAPS no literary productions ever obtained so immediate and extensive a popularity as the Novels and Tales by the Author of WAVERLEY. For this many causes may be assigned. At the time of their first publication Novel writing was at its lowest ebb: the world was deluged and disgusted with a succession of Romances, and other works of fiction, of which it would be hard to say whether they were most strongly marked by dulness, absurdity, or frivolity. Enchanted castles had lost their attractions; ghosts and spectres were no longer viewed with terror and amazement; and errant knights wandered forth in quest of adventures without exciting the smallest degree of sympathy or admiration. But upon the appearance of Waverley,' it was discovered that a novel might be written, of which the plot should be laid in our own Island, no more than sixty years ago,'-the characters and incidents such as experience and history tell us, have had a real existence, which should be capable of affording amusement blended with instruction. The historical turn of Waverley,' and the other works of the same author, was one great cause of their success. With the desire of becoming, in some degree, acquainted with the history and manners of their ancestors, many have been induced to take up these volumes, who would turn disgusted from those highly seasoned, and unnatural productions which-as Dr. Johnson would have said,-" are fit only to amuse savages in the dawn of literature, and children in the spring of life." Another cause of the popularity of the Waverley' school of novels, is their nationality. The poems of Ossian and Burns had introduced a rage for the scenery, manners and language, of Scotland; and this was abundantly satisfied in the novels of which we speak.—By the way we beg to remark, that the fondness for the barbarous idiom of Scotland's rudest peasantry, argues strongly against the good taste of the present age. Our own much-abused Lancashire dialect is in no respect its inferior; and as being, with little alteration, the language of our early poets, deserves more attention. Yet, whilst the former is carefully sought after, and introduced at every turn, the latter is never spoken of but with ridicule or contempt. We are no advocates for the use of the uncouth idiom of Lancashire, but we do think that its merits are at least equal to those of the barbarous Scotch dialect now so much admired. The real merits of Walter Scott (we presume he is the author of Waverley) are not amongst the smallest causes of his extensive popularity. He is, without dispute, amongst the best of British Novelists. In particular he possesses, in an enviable degree, the talent of what in the Vocabulary of Doctor Spurzheim, would be SATURDAY, JANUARY 4, 1823. PRICE 31d. The popularity of Sir Walter Scott's works, is no exact criterion of their intrinsic worth. The popular taste is generally correct upon the whole; but it often receives a bias, and for years remains highly prejudiced. This may have been and we think has been the case with regard to the estimate formed of the Waverley School. termed descriptiveness. With a stroke of his knew the value of a good idea too well to waste His Much as we admire these productions, we are of opinion-and this opinion is by no means an uncommon one-that their merits have been vastly overrated. Nothing can be more disgusting than the untempered panegyric which has been heaped upon them from all quarters. A comparison has been invited between Shakespeare and Sir Walter Scott. This is the very quintessence of flattery-disgusting to every candid and impartial mind, and we should think, to none more than the individual whom it is designed to honour. Shakespeare was a mighty genius. With little of that knowledge which is derived from the experience of other men, he possessed, perhaps intuitively, a profound acquaintance with the human character. His mind was never emptied, his stock of ideas never worn out. We never discover him dressing up an old actor in new apparel to strut his hour once more before the world.' masterly hand sketched a character, and when it was finished he laid aside, and never returned to the subject. He is ever new. He has but one Falstaff, one Lear, one Macbeth. On the contrary, our "second, better Shakespeare" -as he is somewhere styled-has a round of characters that serve with some little variety for every occasion. His witches, for instance, all bear a family likeness to Meg Merrilies, from whom they are lineally descended. Many other characters may be detected, differing in Labiliments indeed, but wearing a concealed identity. We look in vain in these works for those bursts of sentiment which indicate the presence of genius in its purest character. There is scarcely a passage which is worth remembering for any strong, condensed sentiment it conveys. Good ideas there are in abundance, but they are spun out and hunted down until the reader is weary of them. Shakespeare It has been observed by a profound writer, that great minds, in general, go before the genius of the age in which they live, and consequently are neglected by contemporaries. In the lapse of years, when the popular mind has come up to their standard, their true worth is discovered. Shakespeare and Milton may be mentioned, amongst a multitude of others, as proving the truth of this position. Walter Scott has not been forced to share in their neglect; and will not be permitted to enjoy their lasting triumph. He is a meteor bursting into effulgence and then immerging into darkness: they are orbs of dazzling radiance gradually dispelling the mists of darkness, and still increasing in splendour as they increase in years.-But we need not carry the comparison any further. A few years will do more in deciding on the comparative merits of these writers, than volumes of controversy. Opinionum commenta delet dies, naturæ judicia confirmat. Liverpool. REVIEWS. J. B. M. THE LOVES OF THE ANGELS, a Poem. By IT is not direct attacks, however plausibly sus- 'As objections may be made, by persons whose opinions I respect, to the selection of a subject of this nature from the scripture, I think it right to remark that, in point of fact, the subject is not scripturalthe notion upon which it is founded (that of the love of Angels for women) having originated in an erroneous translation by the LXX. of that verse in the sixth chapter of Genesis, upon which the sole authority of the fable rests. The foundation of my story, therefore, has as little to do with Holy Writ, as have the dreams of the later Platonists, or the reveries of Jewish divines; and, in appropriating the notion thus to the uses of poetry, I have done no more than establish it in that region of fiction, to which the opinions of the most rational fathers, and of all other Christian theologians, have long ago consigned it.' But, Mr. M. had another object in view; a doctrinal one! He wished from a figurative expression to deduce and establish an "allegorical" structure; a "mediuin through which might be shadowed out the fall of the soul from its original purity-the loss of light and happiness which it suffers, in the pursuit of this world's perishable pleasures-and the punishments, both from conscience and divine justice, with which impurity, pride, and presumptuous inquiry into the awful secrets of God, are sure to be visited." It is scarcely necessary to remark that the readers of "The Loves of the Angels" will be troubled with but few impressions or feelings of the description to which Mr. M. alludes. The poem possesses much beautiful imagery, and seems, to us, to be, altogether, in the Author's best style. Our next shall contain some interesting extracts. AN ODE ON THE USE AND ABUSE OF POETRY; suggested by the present times and recent publications. By the Rev. C. Burton, L L. B. London, 1822. THE mere announcement of an Ode on the Use and Abuse of Poetry, excited our curiosity; and, on procuring a copy, we read, with sweet anticipation" The design of this ODE is to exhibit the legitimate and valuable objects of Poetry; and to expose with justly-merited severity, those recent productions, which, at the present eventful crisis, tend, in an awful degree, and by the most seductive and delusive method, to demoralize the British population." The poem was short; our expectation great; and we entered upon the perusal with infinitely more of an enthusiastic, than of a critical, spirit But,No; we restrain our feelings. This anomalous production shall decide it's own fate! Part of Mr. B.'s design "is to exhibit the legitimate and valuable objects of Poetry." The first eighty lines are made up of interrogatories to the " Spirit of verse," as to it's exclusive attachment to "Solitude?" to "Melancholy?" to "Grief?" to 66 Beauty?" to "Heroism?" or, to "Comedy?" Then comes the promised exhibition of " the legitimate and valuable objects of Poetry"-Comparatively, with the former subjects (the Spirit of verse"-being still invoked,) Sublimer far, in Nature's loveliest scene Of strange sublimity, or fairy green, Walk with thy Bard; and sing the live-long day, Prompt the high strain, and swell the pastoral lay! Move with thy Thomson as the Seasons roll, And pierce with Gessner's Idylls to the soul! These six lines are stripped of ambiguity in the next thirty, for in them we learn that the "HARPER'S" delight should be in Nature's sun-clad day," ," "the moon," "the milky-way," "the bow of promise," "the briny main," "the zephyrs," "the whirlwinds," "the heights precipitous," "the velvet lawns," birds," "bowers," flowers," cascades," lakes," "lark," and " nightingale." Such a ("Rich Panorama!" or) panoramic view of preposterous madrigal, we never before met with in a like compass! 66 The following ten lines are all that can justly be said " to exhibit the legitimate and valuable objects of Poetry;" and according to these, as well as to what we have above quoted, (being the entire of the exhibition) "truth," and "only TRUTH," should be the subject of the Muse; "IS VIRTUE then, that breathes but love in me, ALONE denied the charms of melody? his My Muse, aggriev'd, replies, It cannot be, Truth, only TRUTH, with HARMONY combined?" thor has not at all entered into the first part of We are now obliged to declare that the Audesign," which should have exhibited "the legitimate and valuable objects of Poetry." However, we pass on to the second part, viz; "to expose with justly-merited severity those recent productions, which demoralize the British population." And, as this exposition is more concise than the preceding exhibition, we give it without abridgement ; "ETHEREAL ESSENCE! which, of all thy train, Like a fell Avalanche, comes wasting down "Patron of verse! thy sacred cause maintain, Summon thy chaste, thy well-affected train, And bid them sing of PIETY again! In vain shall then the too-voluptuous Muse, With syren melodies, her victims choose; Or BYRON laud his deeds of crimson dye, Sing meretricious love and chivalry; Or baser SHELLEY, on the gates of hell, With reckless vaunt impinge his sceptic shell." In the above lines we find two VICTIMS declared; but, by what figure of speech, by what description of idea, can we even fancy that those demoralizing RECENT PRODUCTIONS Are their pernicious doctrines at all controverted? Nay, is there one, even one of them so much as named? This is begging a point indeed ! are EXPOSED? We, at present, speak not of the poetical merits or demerits of "What such-like bards there be, may not be said, For he that names them makes them to be read,"in connection with what we have above quoted, it's philosophy is our object, the author tells us of one-" the LORDLY BARD" "Still worse the frown Of kindred SHELLEY on fair Mercy's reign," Agreeably to his own theory, by naming BYRON, and SHELLEY, he of course," makes them to be read;" and, taking his own description, they are surely the chief of "suchlike bards." Then why should the less significant, "not be said?” Thus does Mr. B. proclaim his guardian-care at the very moment in which He brings us into certain contact with the greatest of literary" seductive and delusive” evils! "When from the spheroid verge of this terrene The sapphire barge of heav'n's resplendent queen,” The following lines are a plagiarism ;— "The crape-enshrouded widow, mute and slow, Wends to the grave where yet no flowrets grow, Heedless of gossip-tales, or owlet's scream, While twinkling Lyra sheds a feeble beam On the cold surface of the church-yard stone, That hides and praises all she deem'd her own?" Patent is a monopolizing, but not a very poe tical phrase ; "To rural Beauty claim thy patent sway.” We cannot comprehend lines 99 and 100 in either a scriptural or philosophical sense ; "The bow of promise, arch'd in mercy's hour, To paint the globules of the genial shower." The 106th line is defective in measure, and vulgar in it's termination ; "Or light'ning scorch'd; where, yelling loud." There is a remarkable sterility in our author's rhymes,-lines 95 and 96 terminate "I ween," scene," and 118 and 119 terminate " scene," "I ween." The 135th is also "scene," and the 136th shifts miserably to avoid "ween;" however, by a little affectation of ancient lore, it succeeds; "Raise his faint voice, when eke, with plumage sheen." The same affectation is manifested in-" Eke "the wight there I see," "as, whilome, be" aye linkt ;" and still further in enthralled,' two lines of ghostly aspect, the repose of the grave is somewhat injudiciously disturbed ; "Her wings, yburnish'd with celestial fire.” "With fire, yravish'd from a spotless sky." We get very awkwardly through "Of Christ's tremendous agony; as, whilome, he." A school-boy would receive a justly-merited castigation for the couplet, already quoted, beginning What such-like bards, &c. 66 The Vision of Judgment" mania has reached Mr. B. "And while I terminate my humble ODE, Thy Herbert, Cowper, Watts, MONTGOMERY;" Our author will oblige us by stating whether the latter gentleman got there by death or translation, either will be new to us? The inquisitorial spirit of this Ode is not equivocal ; "What fate more suited to such miscreant bard, Of the following six lines, the first couplet is false and presumptuous; the next, offensive and impertinent; and the last, contemptibly ludi crous; ument ! 66 66 The "Ode on the use and abuse of Poetry", consists of 242 lines, and our review should have been comprised in ten or a dozen; but that we desire to convince Mr. B. that our estimate of his Poem is the result of a just, and not illiberal, examination. for you yourself have thought it necessary to add explanatory, or, as my brother the clergyman expressed it to me, glossarial notes. Well, Sir,' said I, and what are those notes? "Ye gifted Scribes! who guide the general views, -Merely to explain to you, and such as you Undaunted, crush each base apostate Muse! who set up for critics before you have studied Ye hireling Critics! never dare to praise, the English language, that Holt signifies a What, in your hearts, ye know deserves to blaze! wood, Soothly truly, Eyen eyes, Steep deep, No, tho' the reckless, venal Bibliopole, and Forpined wither'd. I was even simple Holds to your view the too seductive dole!" enough to think it might be deemed a charitable Now we deny that there is a tribe of "gifted office to make the fine gentlemen' of the preScribes, who guide the general views ;" and we sent day, a little acquainted with antique literaaffirm that those to whom Mr. B. alludes, are, ture at so easy a rate.'-' That's all very true,' at best, hirelings" of the public; and that replied he, but then at the best, Chaucer is so they work (probably to a man) purely for emol-heavy, so dull, so stupid, so uninteresting, The second two lines are grossly in- compared to Lord Byron, and the general run sulting, as they upbraid men of talent with a of modern poets.' Oh! your most obedient!' necessity which our author would make appear said I, you have got your palate spoiled by disreputable; but, a christian minister who can the cayenne-pepper of my Lord Byron, and thus deliberately stigmatize men with the epi- have no relish for the beautiful, and, to an unthet "hireling," must surely have himself des- sophisticated taste, enchanting simplicity of the cended from an illustrious, and independent an- old writers. I am sorry for you.' cestry! However, when we consider that the With regard to myself, all I undertook was, gifted Scribes" only differ from the "hireling to endeavour to preserve the spirit of the oriCritics" by having a little proprietorship, orginal, to put away every word and phrase that paper credit; and that they are as much dewas likely to frighten an ordinary reader, but pendent upon the intensity of prejudice, as the to retain as many of them as seemed to possess latter are upon individual discernment, we feel a more than usual force;--and, for the purpose inclined to reverse the judgment, and to award of removing every objection against those anthe superior distinction to the Critic. tique words and phrases so retained, the glossarial notes were added:-and I strongly suspect, Sir, you will excuse me for speaking plainly, that had you not seen those notes, you would never have suspected there was any thing particularly difficult in the text. The human mind, Sir, is a strange, mysterious machine, and is strangely and mysteriously acted upon by things which it not often suspects to have any power over it. They who have not the advantage of possessing a knowledge of Latin, Greek, French, or any other but their native language, take every opportunity of crying out against the utility of such knowledge, and are vastly witty upon those who had the misfortune of being sent to school in their younger days.-So, they who are too lazy to delve in the rich mines of ancient English literature, profess that they cannot bear any thing antique. Be it known to you, Sir,-that we have never had any poet of real eminence, who did not delight in the study of those who went before him. Spenser studied Chaucer, and stole much from him; Milton studied them both; Dryden studied all three, including Milton; Pope studied them all including Dryden ;-and that my Lord Byron, whom you so much, and I allow justly, admire, had deeply studied Chaucer, Spenser, Crashaw. Milton, Dryden, Pope, and Chatterton, which last, in point of fact, may be clsssed with Chaucer, as far as the antiquity of his phraseology is concerned, I could prove from many passages in his writings. Oh! Sir, but poets are queer animals, take my word for it. Byron, with all his exaltation of mind, studied Wordsworth, stole from him, and to hide his thefts, abused him, in order to persuade people not to read him. I do not allude to any such The author concludes his address "to the Reader" with the following sentence;"Whatever may be his claim as a Poet, he hopes, by endeavouring to subordinate his efforts to the excitement of suitable feelings in a matter of ineffable concern, he will, at least, be acknowledged as a zealous friend of Religion and Virtue." Whilst truth obliges us to say that Mr. B. has no claims whatever as a poet, we are happy at having it in our power to close our review with the declaration, that we respect and sincerely acknowledge him "as a zealous friend of Religion and Virtue!" BEAUTIES OF ENGLISH POETRY. CHAUCER continued. What's Geoffrey unto us? or we to him? That we should read his crabb'd, old, ugly verses?' There are, I scarce can think it, but am told there are, who exclaim against poor old Geoffrey somewhat in the style of my motto. Here have I been harassing myself half to death with the view of modernizing, the, what I call, beautiful verses of the venerable father of English Poetry; and all the thanks I receive amount to this. One pretty little gentleman called upon me at my lodgings in Lower Byrom-street, the day before yesterday. Pray, Mr. St. Clere,' said prodigious' plagiarism as was ingeniously dishe, why don't you give us Chaucer in plain covered in the character of Dominie Sampson, English?' Plain English, my dear Sir, re- by a very erudite gentleman of this town, a few plied I, why, Sir, that is my object. I have weeks ago, but I allude to real, downright, modernized the passages I have selected as most and complete thefts of thought and expression. interesting, for the case and comfort of those You yourself, Sir, for aught I know, may be a who have never read any poetry of a more anti-poet; or at least you may tag rhymes to the que date than what appears in Enfield's Speaker, ends of measured lines, and therefore style and or Murray's Reader; unless they have percase think yourself so. But allow me to say, Sir, look'd into Dodd's Beauties of Shakespeare.' that there is about Chaucer, a closeness of obOh! but,' retorted my little friend, it is plain servation, a distinctness of delineation, a glowthat you have not given us it in plain English; | ing richness of character, a delightful, good natured humour of description, a witty inoffensive satire, which every candid reader must admire, but which few can hope ever to equal. In reading his description of the Canterbury pilgrims, they rise ideally to our view, and pass before us, with almost the same distinctness, as if we saw them actually represented on the stage. Modern poetry is altogether different. It despises minute descriptions either of nature, or art. And why? Because they require study; they require experience; they require time-they require age; they require sense. Modern poetry consists for the most part of or rather in the slang of the day, styled morceaus of rhapsodical bombast, technically, bursts; a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, but-signifying nothing!— They, that is the authors of such poetry, will tell you that they stood on a mountain,that they watched the sun,-that they wished themselves this, and that, and the other, any thing but what they were and ought to be. Then their souls swell within them; leave the brain which they were intended to inhabit, and take a flight above the clouds ;—the following is not a bad specimen : I stood upon a mountain, and I gazed Pish!-I wish you had remained on the hill till now, without either pens, ink, or paper. Therefore, Sir, for all these reasons, though I feel myself infinitely obliged by the candid expression of your opinion, you must allow me to say, with all the politeness I am master of, that I am exceedingly sorry, and even very much distressed, that it is not such as I can have the very great pleasure, and very high honour of coinciding with.' The little gentleman very civilly bade me good morning; I turned from him to my delightful old Geoffrey, and modernized to the best of my poor ability, the following very picturesque description of a Friar of the fourteenth century : A Friar there was, a wanton and a merry, And certainly he had a merry note. And over all, where profit might arise Yet would he have a farthing ere he went; This worthy limitour was call'd Huberd. Of warning elements above, below No covering, and their bed the frozen snow: EMILY T. Nor does my vanity end here; as I perambulated the Old Church yard this day, the merry peal of the bells drew from me the accompanying Sonnet. How sweet yen sounds, that once pleas'd many a seer Of old, come floating 'long the river's side, Pealing harmonious on the list'ning ear How lightly on the curling winds they ride; But time shall pass, and each succeeding year These notes shall flow across the Mersey's tide 9 Rote, a musical instrument, the ancient psaltarium When other feet shall tread yon jutting Pier, altered. 10 Fleur-de-lis, lily. 1 Love-days, days for making up differences. 2 Mickle, much. 3 Semicope, a half cloak. POETRY. And we, in the cold sepulchre, lay side by sideFor soon shall other people rise and tread The steps in which we've trod, another race Shall trample under foot the mouldering head; The very one that fill'd his vacant place, Till time revolves, and in their turn they lay Their bodies with their fathers in the moisten'd clay. Welcome readers, and ye fair ones who smile benignantly upon the strains of one, who once knew no greater pleasure than that arising from the company of the brightest ornament of creation, Woman; a merry Christmas and a happy new year to you all; may ten thousand joys be showered upon your IGNOTÓ. all, as it bas with January 1st. 1823. MR. EDITOR,-Now, Sir, you may hold up your head, and show your silvery locks to the gazing throng which surrounds you, shouting high gratulations on the completion of your first volume. Yes, Sir, now will I join with the multitude in wishing you (in the old fashioned manner) " a merry Christmas and a happy New Year." I am not one of your stiff starched and prim fashionists, who only lisp out "the compli-head, and may the current of life glide as smoothly with you ments of the season," as if each word froze to the tongue, and died in a breath rustling through the crevices of a shrivelled lip. I like the good old style, when on Christmas eve the wassail bowl smoked upon the board, and the kissing bush graced the centre of the hall. Then the cup went merrily round, and was as quickly replenished with the kind and ge nerous liquid, so preferable to its substitutes, which now stand as if frozen into the narrow compass of a few black bottles. The joys of this season are nearly forgotten, its customs almost exploded; few are the carols which I well remember, used once to gratify my youthful ear as I sat with my pockets full of halfpence to reward the singers, and those how degenerated! Poor Tom! how many times have we met in the old hall, round thy favourite oak table to enjoy the festivities of this week? but thon art gene; no more will the voice of mirth and laughter glad thine ear; the favourite song, which once made thy face smile, is banished from thy house; and thy pretty grand-daughter, writes sonnets on the months and seasons in its stead,; she is now in her beauty, but has not forgotten thee and thy last Christinas box, she has this year placed the bush on the old hook! Mr. Editor, forgive these dotings of an old man who must soon leave all this mirth and gaiety to others, and follow his friend to the grave. My little chirper whom I mentioned above, has just given me the following lines, which I hope you will insert for my sake, I am vain enough to think you will admire them! MUSINGS ON JANUARY FIRST Another year is dead, and Nature seems SONG. Tune.- I my blue ey'd Maid would take !— O ye guardian powers of love!- With my bonny bluc-ey'd Maid! Addressed to a young Lady, on her sickness, and a hope of her speedy restoration to health. Where late, the roseate hue of joyous health, ON WINTER. Clad in silvery array, Holding high her magic wand, Ruling with despotic sway, T. C. Earth bows 'neath her with'ring hand: All that once my beart delighted, So in life's precarious round, |