cute the plan of saving the literature of the whole nation; and, undisturbed by the general mourning for the dead, and general fears of the living, to devote himself to the task of

collecting and recording the triumphs of human genius in the poetry of his age and country;-thus, amid the wreck of all that was mortal, employing himself in preserving the lays by which immortality is at once given to others, and obtained for the writer himself. He informs us of some of the numerous

difficulties he had to contend with in this self-imposed task. The volume containing his labours, deposited in the Library of the Faculty of Advocates at Edinburgh, is no less than eight hundred pages in length, and very neatly and closely written, containing nearly all the ancient poetry of Scotland now known to exist.

This Caledonian association, which boasts several names of

distinction, both from rank and talent, has assumed rather a

broader foundation than the parent society, the Roxburghe Club in London. which, in its plan, being restricted to the reprinting of single tracts. each executed at the expense of an individual member, it follows as almost a necessary consequence, that no volume of considerable size has emanated

from it, and its range has been thus far limited in point of utility. The Bannatyne, holding the same system with respect to the ordinary species of club reprints, levies, moreover, a fund among its members of about L.500 a-year, expressly to be applied for the editing and printing of works of acknowledged importance, and likely to be attended with expense beyond the reasonable bounds of an individual's contribution. In this way either a member of the Club, or a competent person under its patronage, superintends a particular volume, or set of volumes. Upon these occasions, a very moderate number of copies are thrown off for general sale; and those belonging to the Club are only distinguished from the others by being printed on the paper, and ornamented with

the decorations, peculiar to the Society. In this way several useful and eminently valuable works have recently been given to the public for the first time, or at least with a degree of accuracy and authenticity which they had never before attained.-Abridged from the Quarterly Review-ART. Pitcairn's Ancient Criminal Trials. February, 1831.

Ca J. C. Lockhart, Esq.

ON THE COMPOSITION OF MAIDA'S EPITAPH.

1824.

"Maida Marmorea dormis sub imagine Maida!
Ad januam domini sit tibi terra levis."

See Life of Scott, vol. vii., pp. 275-281.

"DEAR JOHN,-I some time ago wrote to inform his
Fat worship of jaces, misprinted for dormis;
But that several Southrons assured me the januam
Was a twitch to both ears of Ass Priscian's cranium.

1 There is an excellent story (but too long for quotation) in the Memoire of the Somervilles (vol. i. p. 240) about an old Lord of that family, who, when he wished preparations to be made for high feasting at his Castle of Cowthally, used to send on a billet inscribed with this laconic phrase," Speates and raxes," i. e. spits and ranges. Upon one occasion, Lady Somerville (being newly married, and not yet skilled in her husband's hieroglyphics) read the mandates as spears and jacks, and sent

You, perhaps, may observe that one Lionel Berguer.
In defence of our blunder appears a stout arguer:
But at length I have settled, I hope, all these
clatters,

By a rout in the papers-fine place for such matters. I have, therefore, to make it for once my command, sir,

That my gudeson shall leave the whole thing in my hand, sir,

And by no means accomplish what James says you threaten,

Some banter in Blackwood to claim your dog-Latin.
I have various reasons of weight, on my word, sir,
For pronouncing a step of this sort were absurd, sir.—
Firstly, erudite sir, 'twas against your advising
I adopted the lines this monstrosity lies in;
For you modestly hinted my English translation
Would become better far such a dignified station.
Second-how, in God's name, would my bacon be
saved,

By not having writ what I clearly engraved?
On the contrary, I, on the whole, think it better
To be whipped as the thief, than his lousy resetter.
Thirdly-don't you perceive that I don't care a boddle
Although fifty false metres were flung at my noddle,
For my back is as broad and as hard as Benlomon's,
And I treat as I please both the Greeks and the Ro-

mans;

Whereas the said heathens might rather look serious
At a kick on their drum from the scribe of Valerius.
And, fourthly and lastly-it is my good pleasure
To remain the sole source of that murderous measure.
So stet pro ratione voluntas-be tractile,
Invade not, I say, my own dear little dactyl;
If you do, you'll occasion a breach in our intercourse:
To-morrow will see me in town for the winter-course,
But not at your door, at the usual hour, sir,
My own pye-house daughter's good prog to devour, sir.
Ergo-peace-on your duty, your squeamishness
throttle,

And we'll soothe Priscian's spleen with a canny third bottle.

A fig for ail dactyls, a fig for all spondees,

A fig for all dunces and dominie Grundys;

A fig for dry thrapples, south, north, east, and west, sir,

Speates and raxes' ere five for a famishing guest, sir; And as Fatsman and I have some topics for haver

he'll

Be invited, I hope, to meet me and Dame Peveril, Upon whom, to say nothing of Oury and Anne, you a Dog shall be deemed if you fasten your Janua.

forth 200 armed horsemen, whose appearance on the moors greatly alarmed Lord Somerville and his guest, who happened to be no less a person than King James III.-See SCOTT'S Miscellaneous Prose, vol. xxii. p. 312.

2 Fatsman was one of Mr. James Ballantyne's many aliases. Another (to which Constable mostly adhered) was Mr. "Basketfill"-an allusion to the celebrated printer Basker

ville.

Lines,

ADDRESSED TO MONSIEUR ALEXANDRE, THE CELE

BRATED VENTRILOQUIST.

1824.

Of yore, in old England, it was not thought good
To carry two visages under one hood;

What should folk say to you? who have faces such plenty,

That from under one hood, you last night show'd us twenty!

Stand forth, arch deceiver, and tell us in truth,
Are you handsome or ugly, in age or in youth?
Man, woman, or child-a dog or a mouse?

Or are you, at once, each live thing in the house?
Each live thing, did I ask ?—each dead implement, too,
A work-shop in your person,-saw, chisel, and screw!
Above all, are you one individual? I know
You must be at least Alexandre and Co.

But I think you're a troop-an assemblage-a mob,
And that I, as the Sheriff, should take up the job;
And instead of rehearsing your wonders in verse,
Must read you the Riot-Act, and bid you disperse.
ABBOTSFORD, 23d April.2

Epilogue

TO THE DRAMA FOUNDED ON "ST. RONAN'S WELL."

1824.

"After the play, the following humorous address (ascribed to an eminent literary character,) was spoken with infinite effect by Mr. Mackay in the character of Meg Dodds."-Edinburgh Weekly Journal, 9th June, 1824.

1" When Monsieur Alexandre, the celebrated ventriloquist, was in Scotland, in 1824, he paid a visit to Abbotsford, where he entertained his distinguished host, and the other visiters, with his unrivalled imitations. Next morning, when he was about to depart, Sir Walter felt a good deal embarrassed as to the sort of acknowledgment he should offer; but at length, resolving that it would probably be most agreeable to the young foreigner to be paid in professional coin, if in any, he stepped aside for a few minutes, and, on returning, presented him with this epigram. The reader need hardly be reminded that Sir Walter Scott held the office of Sheriff of the county of Selkirk." -Scotch newspaper, 1830.

2 The lines, with this date, appeared in the Edinburgh Annual Register of 1824.

3 James Laing was one of the Depute-Clerks of the city of Edinburgh, and in his official connexion with the Police and the Council-Chamber, his name was a constant terror to evildoers. He died in February, 1806.

4 The Watch-hole.

7 John Doo, or Dhu-a terrific-looking and high-spirited member of the Town Guard, and of whom there is a print by Kay, etched in 1784.

8 The Weigh-House, situated at the head of the West Bow, Lawnmarket, and which had long been looked upon as an encumbrance to the street, was demolished in order to make way for the royal procession to the Castle, which took place on the 22d of August, 1822.

9 Fortune's Tavern-a house on the west side of the Old

Stamp Office Close, High Street, and which was, in the early part of the last century, the mansion of the Earl of Eglintoun.-The Lord High Commissioner to the General Assembly of the day held his levees and dinners in this tavern.

10 Hunter's-another once much-frequented tavern, in Writer's Court, Royal Exchange.

And now if folk would splice a brace, Or crack a bottle,

They gang to a new-fangled place They ca' a Hottle.

The deevil hottle them for Meg!
They are sae greedy and sae gleg,
That if ye're served but ́wi' an egg,

(And that's puir pickin',) In comes a chiel and makes a leg,

And charges chicken!

"And wha may ye be," gin ye speer, "That brings your auld-warld clavers here?" Troth, if there's onybody near

That kens the roads,

I'll haud ye Burgundy to beer,

He kens Meg Dodds.

I came a piece frae west o' Currie ;
And, since I see you're in a hurry,
Your patience I'll nae langer worry,
But be sae crouse
As speak a word for ane Will Murray,'
That keeps this house.

Plays are auld-fashion'd things, in truth, And ye've seen wonders mair uncouth; Yet actors shouldna suffer drouth,

Or want of dramock, Although they speak but wi' their mouth, Not with their stamock.

But ye tak care of a' folk's pantry;
And surely to hae stooden sentry
Ower this big house, (that's far frae rent-free,)
For a lone sister,

Is claims as gude's to be a ventri

How'st ca'd-loquister.

Weel, sirs, gude'en, and have a care, The bairns mak fun o' Meg nae mair; For gin they do, she tells you fair, And without failzie,

As sure as ever ye sit there,

The sages to disparage woman's power,
Say, beauty is a fair, but fading flower;-
I cannot tell-I've small philosophy-
Yet, if it fades, it does not surely die,
But, like the violet, when decay'd in bloom,
Survives through many a year in rich perfume.
Witness our theme to-night, two ages gone,
A third wanes fast, since Mary fill'd the throne.
Brief was her bloom, with scarce one sunny day,
"Twixt Pinkie's field and fatal Fotheringay:
But when, while Scottish hearts and blood you
boast,

Shall sympathy with Mary's woes be lost?
O'er Mary's mem'ry the learn'd quarrel,
By Mary's grave the poet plants his laurel,
Time's echo, old tradition, makes her name
The constant burden of his fault'ring theme;
In each old hall his grey-hair'd heralds tell
Of Mary's picture, and of Mary's cell,

And show-my fingers tingle at the thought-
The loads of tapestry which that poor Queen

wrought,

In vain did fate bestow a double dower
Of ev'ry ill that waits on rank and pow'r,
Of ev'ry ill on beauty that attends-
False ministers, false lovers, and false friends.
Spite of three wedlocks so completely curst,
They rose in ill from bad to worse,
and worst,
In spite of errors—I dare not say more,
For Duncan Targe lays band on his claymore.
In spite of all, however, humours vary,
There is a talisman in that word Mary,
That unto Scottish bosoms all and some
Is found the genuine open sesamum!
In history, ballad, poetry, or novel,

It charms alike the castle and the hovel,
Even you-forgive me-who, demure and shy,
Gorge not each bait, nor stir at every fly,
Must rise to this, else in her ancient reign
The Rose of Scotland has survived in vain.

From Redgauntlet.

"I recovered the above with some difficulty. I believe it

drawn, in which Mrs. H. Siddons was to have spoken it in the character of Queen Mary."-Extract from a Letter of Sir Walter Scott to Mr. Constable, 22d October, 1824.