qarely seated, and the time-wrought rents therein invited the absent zephyr's. He recited a scene, as a specimen of a tragedy which he was about to usher into light. It was far from perfection; vigorous, though evidently manufactured in haste, which seemed to denote that the author "magis fami quam famæ inserviebat." He read well, and attracted the attention of his auditors, whose countenances betrayed the unconquerable enthusiasm he had roused in their feelings: he was well received.

Mr. Dastortus, was a round-shouldered, diminutive fellow, with eyes protruding like a lobster's, whose expanding nostrils, united in a graceful turn of the nasal extremity, rendering the tout ensemble a master-piece of feature, i. e. ugliness. He called for a quadruped to elevate his deformity, (the use of tripods is exploded,) on which he mounted with philosophic gravity, extending a pair of club feet; (en passant, he might belong to a club of Peripatetics if any now exists,)—Æsop himself, had he seen him, would have wondered how any one so ugly could write a book. However, as I forget who says, "we can't be all Apollos," I shall say no more on that subject. He took from under his arm several bundles of papers; the first contained the "Poetical Remains of his Grandfather," which, until now, had slumbered in an old chest; but unfortunately, said this author, the "destructive rats" had only left a few precious fragments, one of which he recited; I should rather say spluttered, or spat out with all the delicacy of a Russian, but still,

"With proud delight in literary repute."

"Most unfortunate fragments!" thought I, "to have escaped Charybdis, and to have fallen into the merciless jaws of Scylla." And I pitied sincerely the poor mangled words as they fell a sacrifice to his hideously yawning

mandibles. The other bundles, contained an "Ode to the first of April," destined to be dedicated to the Dey of All-jeers; (Algiers) "Hints to grave-diggers ;" 66 Lines

to

and a Palindromic Poem of a hundred lines, written in latin. In completing these "difficiles nugæ," the author had devoted the leisure hours of five long winters. I should have taken down a specimen of this Herculean labour, had I not been afraid of catching the author's mania, by imitation.

Hungry eyes were now directed to time-pieces ;-past six o'clock, and no apparent means of filling empty stomachs, except cramming at the ear. Some nibbled away at the dead flesh on their finger's end; others bit their nails to the quick, becoming cannibals in their perplexity, and sparing neither the quick nor the dead. They were soon diverted from this delightful amusement, by the appearance of a good poet,-good, sir, in every sense of the word; he was good looking, which is a rare commodity amongst night-watchers, and lamp-worshipers; witty, spirited in his ideas, and approaching the sublime. His poetry was so good that, no doubt, several of the envious impoetic poets committed suicide in despair of achieving the like he was exactly to my mind, and from a sympathy in tastes, I felt a strong desire to become acquainted with him. The only way of introducing myself that I could devise on the moment, was, to tread on his toe, and beg his pardon; but this newly-invented mode of self-introduction was so very coolly received, that I durst not venture a repetition, and was left to regret the loss of his acquaintance, as Ovid, in his Tristia, regrets that "Virgilium vidit tantùm."

This would have been a good finale, had the curtain fallen here, but there were other compositions that must

be recited; e. g. Cream of Wit," by a milk-and-water poet, that curdled as it was poured forth; "Jokes of Momentary Birth," which were of quite as momentary death; "Sonnets," never intended for the press, and, if I may judge from their reception, never intended for repetition; and others, innumerable, that occupied the time till it was getting dark, when the question of adjournment was put and carried, nem. con.

I need only add that the majority returned home, perfectly satisfied and amused; and that the author of this letter will be more than satisfied, if his description will serve to amuse you or your readers: and so with sincere pleasure he subscribes himself,

Dear Sir,

Your earnest well-wisher,

FRANCIS RUSSELL.

TO THE AWAK'NING SPRING.

Hail! precious minutes! balmy peace!
Heart-joying leisure! cordial ease!
Assist, while I attempt to sing

The pleasures of the infant spring.

When clouds distil their kindly showers

In pearly drops on op'ning flowers,

And south winds whisper through the skies,
Wake, vegetables! wake! arise!

Verdure! adorn the plains and vales,

And trees and woods, and hills and dales!
Flow'rs, mingle! every sweet combine

In scenes of rural pride to shine.

Then raptur'd through the chequered shade
O'er yonder velvet banks I stray'd,
(That leads to sweet perfuming groves,

Where feather'd warblers court their loves)

Delighted there with pleasant views
Of arched walks, and pillar'd yews,
And avenues, and shady bowers,

And spreading elms, and springing flowers;
Nor less to hear th' inspiring notes
Of music, from the little throats
Of nature's choristers, whose lays
Are hymns of gratitude and praise.
Just underneath, on wat'ry plain
A swan sat listening to their strain;
The fishes left the pregnant mud,
And struck such circles in the flood,
As Newton never understood.

Streams in meanders murmur'd by ;
Trouts sported with the nimble fly;
While on green banks the Daffodil
Bowed low, and sipp'd the silver rill.

High on the tops of spreading trees
The squirrels bound, with natural ease;
Not wings the feather'd race convey
Through yielding air so swift as they.
Here waters, like the kindred main,
Now calm, now roaring loud again,
Or like the fam'd prolific Nile
Send branches thro' the fruitful soil,
Which from the shelvy cascades play,
Or in fierce torrents rush away
To smooth canals and basins clear,
Which show a painted hemisphere,
The rolling clouds and shining sun—
But here night's dusky troops begun
To drive the twilight from the skies;
And now, the constellations rise,
And all the starry hosts appear
Within the chrystal mirror, clear.

Hence, quick my lab'ring fancy flew,
And left the decorated view

Imploring wisdom's aid to share

A lot so sweet, in fields so fair,

Where zephyrs waft through ev'ry grove,
Tranquility and peace and love,
And many a god-like action shows
What goodness from true greatness flows,
And blessed example points the way

To realms of everlasting day.

P Q

LETTER, INCLOSING AN ARTICLE.

MR. EDITOR,

I take the liberty of inclosing you the following advertisement, which you will oblige me by inserting in your Magazine, as soon as possible. The articles are all of intrinsic value, and most of them possess the inestimable property of improving, rather than of being deteriorated by constant use. They are well worthy the attention of all lovers of vertu and antiquities, being many of them of the most costly materials, and exquisite workmanship; and for the most part becoming every day more scarce,I shall not now trespass longer on your time, but proceed at once to the advertisement itself.

ADVERTISEMENT.

To be sold by auction, during the next month, if not previously disposed of by private contract, A large collection of rare and valuable articles, many of them illustrative of the history of the British empire, and of which the following are a few, selected at random: