and the wines were excellent and abundant. I found, however, that this was only of a piece with other people's sets out; for, in Calcutta, a man can hardly go amiss for a good dinner, and it is a toss up whether the best is to be found at the Palace of the GovernorGeneral, or the house of a trades man. The whole of the young civilians at table bore a strong resemblance to each other in manner and appearance, and, making allowance for circumstances, had much the air of young men of equal rank at home; but I particularly remarked two who formed a kind of species to the genus. The first of these was Mr Tudor Anson, who seemed to rise much above his brethren; he had the same dandyism which all affected, but it was quite clear at the first glance that there was more in him. Through that cover flashes of genius burst, which, "like unexpected light," surprised us, as a dandy is the last man on earth from whom we expect intellect. And so he seemed to think; for, though obviously superior to the surrounding mass, he waived his claim on that account, and rested it solely on his excellence in the science of the toilette, a ground where there was some chance at least for his competitors. I have since seen a little burlesque essay of his on tying neckcloths, written while at college, which would have done credit to an older man, and gives great promise of excellence as a writer, if he will only be stow as much attention on the style of his future performances as he does on the precepts of his past. The other was a gem of a different kind—a rough diamond, in short; his name was Whitebrook, but his companions addressed him by the familiar diminutive of Jemmy. He was fat and indolent in his appearance; and, except in offering me the use of his horse, I had not before heard the sound of his voice. After dinner, he sat and smoked his hookah, with his chin resting on his breast, and seemed, after every monosyllabic reply extorted from him, by the interrogatories of his friends, to express, by his manner, "leave me, leave me to repose;" however, he by and bye was forced from this state of stupor by repeated contradictions, and then he seemed a new man; his face, which before seemed to realize the idea of “fat contented ignorance," be came animated, and he expressed himself with fluency and to the point, displaying an acuteness which I little expected from so heavy an exterior. He brought forcibly to my mind what Dr Johnson might have been, when girding up his loins for a controversy. I found he had been educated at Oxford, and had made a good use of his opportunities; he was, out of all comparison, the most intelligent of his class I ever met with. After the cloth was removed, the gentleman, in whose company I had suffered the martyrdom of "the world's dread laugh," was much quizzed by his comrades for his want of skill, but he soon silenced them, by quoting worse blunders of theirs; indeed, few nights pass without some such catastrophe as I have described, so that such a joke against one man has soon to make room for a similar one against another. "how Conversations among men engaged in the same pursuits, and often in each other's company, are apt to run into localities. Every body of men, ever high their rank, or low their sta tion," have their own particular slang, and allusions to their own particular jokes, which are unintelligible to strangers, and the writers of Calcutta certainly do not prove this rule as exceptions. I found, also, that in many instances their habits of acting had given a wrong bias to their habits of thinking, and some opinions sported with perfect confidence, and admitted as established beyond question, struck me, as not a little at variance with my preconceived opinions of the moral fitness of things. One of these was, that a young gentleman mentioned, who had been an unusual length of time in college, and from indolence had never been able to pass his trials, had, on that account, a strong claim for a good appointment-this appeared to me to be a non sequitur; but prepared me for another not unlike it, viz. that those who studied diligently to get through their probations, and lived within their means to keep out of debt, were a mean, despicable set, who made use of unworthy artifices to ingratiate themselves with their superiors, and to get over the heads of better men. So true is the observation of the most moral of our modern poets, the epigrammatic force and justice of whose verses always atone for the carelessness of their composition-that "Faults in the life breed errors in the brain, And these reciprocally those again." A great many stories were told, too, of the feats performed by these worthies against their professors and creditors, two classes of men whom they seemed to look upon as their natural enemies. One of these being characteristic, I shall repeat it. In the college there were two young gentlemen of the name of Whitebrook. Jemmy (my fat friend,) having got some hundreds of rupees in debt to a livery-stable keeper, a writ was issued and served against him. The bailiff found him reclining on a sofa, smoking his hookah, and administered the tap on the shoulder, said to produce an electric effect on unfortunate gentlemen. Jemmy responded to the well known symbol, by asking at whose suit? and, on being informed, " with infinite promptitude," told the grab he had mistaken his man, as it was the other Whitebrook who owed the money, and, at the same time, called to his servant to run to his name-sake, and warn him of his danger. Off set the servant, and the nab-man at his heels; and Jemmy, following at his usual moderate pace, shut the door and secured it, while they were competing for the honour of being the first to arrive at his friend s house. A proper vidette was then posted, and the minions of the law kept at staff's-end till Jemmy could make an arrangement with his agents. The party bantered a Mr Fanning most unmercifully, about his having been that morning jewaubed-a phrase which was explained to me to signify, refused by a young lady. He admitted the fact; but said it was a matter of total indifference to him. Some one hinted that he had not shewn the same philosophical composure when he received the lady's note. This he also allowed; but said, that it was the manner, not the matter of it, that offended him, as it was written on China paper -an insult, in his eyes, equivalent to sealing with a wafer, in those of the pompous peer in Miss Edgeworth's tale of Patronage. It may perhaps shock the delicacy of your fair readers to hear of such a tender subject being discussed in such a style in India; but let them remember, that in that country, marriage is a much less romantic arrangement than here one great and understood object of it, on the lady's part, being an establishment; and that there, mammas and aunts fish for husbands to their daughters and nieces-a practice which, as it never obtains in Edinburgh, will, I fear, gain neither forgiveness nor belief. Mr Odoherty says, that the present is a delicate age. In this instance, either the walking cornet, more patriæ, has been speaking without reflecting out of the face, as he himself would term it-or does not display his usual acumen. I do not think this a more delicate age than that of Queen Anne. Equal indelicacy of matter is allowed; all the difference is, that we have got a neater mode of saying it. So far as my limited opportunities have gone, I would say, that nothing indelicate, in the present day, ever will be tolerated, that is not delicately expressed. Some elderly single gentlewomen rated me soundly, t'other day, for mentioning Adam Blair in presence of their nieces. What is improper in it I know not; but those who have been in the habit of looking for that sort of game, acquire a faculty of finding it inconceivable to the unpractised; as I have seen a sly old poacher discover a hare lurking in her form, where the less experienced sportsman could only see a bunch of withered fern. may be doubted, however," as Mr M'Leod says, whether those who have swallowed the camel so often when lubricated by the oily sophisms of Tom Moore, shew much consistency in straining at the gnat, because it wants such a luscious condiment. Bute, 1st April, 1822. "It C. B. LETTER FROM ODOHERTY. Thursday Morning. DEAR KIT, WILL the inclosed be of any use to you? If it will, print it—if not, use it for any other purpose found agreeable or necessary. You see it is a squib about the "clever old body," your friend Jeff. It is quite a good-natured affair, which I am sure his Lowness would wish very much to see. I wrote it last night at Ambrose's, after a few tumblers. I intend to open for you a series of poems on various subjects-chiefly, however, badgering Old Blue and Yellow. I mean to tip off this evening another imitation of Horatius Flaccus, in his rather blackguard song about poor Lyce, and his Uxor pauperis Ibyci. I think they are rather pat towards the present old womanish condition of our old acquaintance. You may, if you like, call the series Odoherty's Night Thoughts. One Young, you may have heard, wrote rather a passable book with this title, but it is full of humbug-there shall be none of that commodity in mine, you may take your oath. Yours, during duration, C. NORTH, Esq. HOR. Od. 25. Lib. i. Lydia jam vetulæ amatoribus carenti Parcius junctas quatiunt fenestras Quæ prius multum facilis movebat Invicem machos anus arogantes MORGAN ODOHERTY. *Falstaff! hem !! Teste, the author of the hymn-nobody reads them now save awfully ancient old women. By the bye, who wrote that hymn? I am told Doctor Parr.-M. O. Mum!C. N. Christopher North, Esq.; a well-known and respected character in this city-M. O. But not so old neither—say fifty-seven; or, by'r lady, inclining to threescore.—C. N. Cum tibi flagrans amor, et libido Læta quod pubes hedera virenti Dedicet Euro. Yet still for suitors, old rogue, you are clamorous, Looking most Whiggish, and priggish, and amorous; Moaning the manifold slights of all tribes to you, But moaning much more that no mortal subscribes to you; For every young person of wit, taste, or quality, Rejoicing in North, that prime patron of jollity, Scorns your dry leaves as dull, low, and And sends the concern right a-head to old MR ALLAN'S PICTURE OF THE DEATH OF ARCHBISHOP SHARPE. THIS fine picture having attracted a great deal of attention when it was exhibited in London last year, and having been shewn during some weeks this last winter in Edinburgh, at the shop of Messrs Hill and Co. we need not say anything by way of attracting notice to its merits. It is possible, however, that many of our readers may not be aware of its being now in the hands of Mr James Stewart of this city, for the purpose of being engraved in the same style with the Circassian Captives. The print after that beautiful composition, by the same hand, is allowed by the connoisseurs to be such as would have done honour to any artist in London, and is, without all doubt, the finest specimen of the art ever executed in Scotland. The Death of Archbishop Sharpe, not only as being a picture quite equal in all the excellencies of composition and colouring to the Circassians, but as possess ing the high additional merit of being the finest painting ever executed on any subject of Scottish history, will, we doubt not, receive at least as flattering patronage at the hands of Mr Allan's countrymen. The delineation of Scottish character in the physiognomy of the Covenanters has a truth which cannot be mistaken, while the landscape and sky, and all the accompaniments, are conceived in a way that proves the artist to have the purest and most poetical feeling for natural beauty and grandeur. the chief ornaments of the approaching exhibition at Somerset House. Since we are upon this subject, however, we may just as well state what is our candid opinion as to the course this great artist ought in future for his own sake to pursue. The Broken Fiddle is a charming picture, and quite worthy of hanging by the side of Pit lessie Fair or the Blind Fiddler. But Wilkie is before Allan in this walk, and even if the latter were acknowledged to produce as good comic Scots pictures as the former, he would never obtain the same high character of original genius by doing so. Mr Allan's new picture of the Broken Fiddle, is a piece of quite a different cast from anything he had formerly attempted. It is a highly humorous composition, and the glow of colouring is such as perhaps Wilkie himself never surpassed. But we have no doubt our London correspondents will do it better justice than we could. It cannot fail to be considered as one of He has a field of his own-and we think he would do well to stick by it. In the great line of Scottish domestic pathos, nobody comes near to himand after the Death of Archbishop Sharpe, what subject is there, either of the terrible or the sublime, which he need fear to grapple with? We have heard that he has some thoughts of painting the Confession of Adam Blair, and we have many doubts whether he could fix upon any subject more adapted to the display of his own noblest talents. In the Archbishop's death, he has already found an opportunity for pourtraying with the hand of a true master the effects of the stern old spirit of Presbyterian fanaticism. Perhaps it were but fair to do as much for the benign and compassionate feelings which have never ceased to temper the austerities of our ecclesiastical discipline. The absence of any female figure would, however, increase very much the technical difficulties of a picture on this subject. If so, Mr Allan could be at no loss, by turning over our Acts of Assembly, to find some other event in which similar circumstances must have agitated the feelin both of men and of women. ON THE DRAMA.-DUCIS' SHAKESPEARE, AND JOUY'S SYLLA. COULD we exclude from our thoughts all the literatures that are or have been in the world, and might we be allowed to imagine, in the fond prospective of our country's glory, an ideal literature, the most excellent for it to realise, the product of our imaginations would, we rejoice to think, but wander a little beyond existing reality. Indulge us, gentle reader, in half a column of castle-building :-we will suppose our embryo literature, a tract to be occupied-a Parnassus, if you please; and we will have it bounded, not by a circle, for we hate mathematical precision, but circularly, obedient to natural and pleasing variety. We should ordain several internal and similar lines, dividing our ideal domain into compartments, the outer assigned to general and vulgar taste, the inner to the refined and ennobled, with the intermediate of course allotted according to their proximity to the limits or the centre. Thus having arranged what mere earthly architects call their ground-plan, would we proceed to distribute the genius that should occupy the space. First, we should take from the moon, the sun-beam, or wherever such things are engenderedtwo or three master-spirits, very giants of intellectual might; and we would have them, colossal-like, extend themselves from the centre to the extreme verge, that there might be established a few strong links or bonds of union between all the future tastes of our empire. Having completed this great task, we may suppose ourselves somewhat exhausted, and inclined to repose; nevertheless, our leisure should be employed in peopling the outward limits with neat, dapper, little wits, elegant in form, and fashion, and contour, but without that might and sublimity of intellect, which would be uselessly expended on the confines of literature. Then for a time would we (tel est nature) take our ease, whilst the pigmy race lately propagated, multiplied even to swarming, rousing us at length to exertion by its monotonous murmur. Upon this would we lustily set about finishing the good work, and would send to the east and the west, to the beauteous regions of the rising and the setting sun,-to the sixth heaven, where the most filtered spirits dwell, and we would create a duad or a triad of lofty intellects to occupy exclusively the sacred spot, that should be as a shrine around the centre:-in the breathings of their genius there should be nought intelligible to vulgar souls, and the inhabitants of the more remote regions should admire and ridicule them alternately, not knowing of what nature or species they were. But there the while would we preserve them separate in the midst, for the illumination and delight of the chosen few, and there would we betake ourselves at times, to listen and to love, to pray in poesy, "And feast upon high thoughts.” This precisely is the statistics of English poetry. Milton, Shakspeare, Spenser, extend their mighty forms athwart the entire region; in them the school-boy may discover the terseness, the rhyme, the declamatory ardour that enchant him-from them the blue may pick out the similes, the points, "the charming passages,” that seem to it (for it is of the neuter gender) the infallible tests of poetrywhile the critic and philosopher may feast their seventh sense in their pages without prejudicing the adorations of inferior votaries. Next, lie on the borders, yet firmly entrenched within the limits of the poetic region, Pope, Dryden, Goldsmith, Campbell, Moore, and a thousand others,-those affable Muses, whose wings are visible to all the world, and beyond whom seven-eighths of that world fancy that there is nought but unfathomable space. Nevertheless, in that space, supposed unfathomable, are the mightier thrones and bowers of intellect, open only to the select, the beloved of the Muse. Few are the thrones yet occupied, but can still be distinguished through the misty halo that obscures and glorifies the region, seated aloft, the Bards of Christabel and the Excursion. But a truce with these visions, "That do haunt Man, still the idle marshaller of fame, Which mocks his ordination, and obeys By turns oblivion, and by turns the gust of mode—the call of pedant, or of fool.” The great difference between France and England, with respect to taste and letters, is, that the latter possesses two literatures, the former but one. Our |