diligently as hardly to perceive the entrance of his visitors. The good-natured friend that has brought him thus far, proceeds with his task somewhat in the following

manner :·

"Mr. Reader, I beg to introduce you to L- T—————, Esquire, the great author; Mr. L▬▬▬▬ T————, Mr. Reader, Lone who is anxious to patronize your forth-coming periodical."

Then I get up, in great haste, being taken by surprise; bow low to Mr. Reader, "disclaiming the merit which Mr. Friend has been pleased to attribute to me, and begging them both to take a chair."

Then I sit me down, while they are obliged to stand, since I am unable to afford the unrequired luxuries of a second seat. With that, I bite my goose-quill (too truly so named!) and think of a topic of conversation; but all my thoughts turning on what I was writing, when disturbed by my visitors, I soon forget my company, and address me to my labours once more. Readers, you behold what you must suffer, should you be bold enough to seek an introduction to me; do not then permit an undue curiosity to overcome you, but allow me the retirement of my studio, and I engage therefrom to pour a bis-mensal supply for your amusement.

In order, however, that you may not remain in ignorance of my character, (since I am the grand controuler and mover of this work,) and that I may spare my own blushes,

I will here insert it, as drawn up by a friend, who on subsequent occasions will, I hope, often have to appear before the indulgent notice of the Eton public. It was communicated in a letter to another of my friends, Richard Richardson, Esq., who has insisted upon its publication, as a condition, before he tenders his valuable services.

"Dear Richard,

"You have requested me to give you some account of our mutual friend, L-T; and I hasten with all due speed to comply with your wishes. The family of the T――s is very extensive on the Scottish border, and one of our friend's ancestors was " out in forty-five." He fell at the battle of Culloden, leaving seven children thrown on the world, and rendered destitute by the confiscation of their property on the plea of their father's having followed the Pretender. These, by much diligence, acquired some property in various ways, and the youngest, the grandfather of our T——, set up in the woollen trade. His seventh son was sent into the church, and is now a curate in Cumberland, having only one son, LTHaving resolved to acquire some honour for himself and son, he, by dint of great scraping and parsimony contrived to send him to Eton;-a circumstance for which we can never be too thankful, since it has introduced us to a friend so congenial with our wishes, and so adapted, in a

literary point of view, to our pursuits. Were it not that you doubtlessly intend showing this letter to others, I would not describe his personal appearance, since it is equally well known to you as to myself. Perhaps one of your acquaintance may have remarked a tall, thin young man, with very long arms and legs, dressed in a most ill-cut coat, and ditto trowsers, (the waistcoat, if he wears any, is constantly invisible; the coat being invariably buttoned ;) no shirt to be seen, where his wristbands and collars should appear; a soiled white neckkerchief, stooping shoulders, brows overhanging, countenance sallow, forehead furrowed, and gait awkward, as he regularly trudges from his Dame's to school, and from school to his Dame's, or perhaps ventures as far as Ingalton's; if your friend has noticed such a person, let him be sure that he is L--T-~. Yet within all this disguise is a warm heart, and a sound understanding. That he would obtain the Newcastle scholarship, should he try, is positively certain; only he is much too modest to stand as candidate. However, what he has refused to the classics, he has given up to English composition, and has been induced at last, to edit " The Kaleidoscope." With regard to his manners, they are very retiring, and unassuming; in the opinion of some, repulsive; but this is mauvaise honte, and only those that know him well, can half esteem his good qualities. How often has he done, with shame I confess it, my verses!-yea, the very verses

for which I have been sent up! How often has he construed me my lesson! and saved me from the dreadful misfortune of being in the bill! that is, before I, in the process of time, attained my present rank of sixth-form. Noris his knowledge confined to mere classical intelligence, modern and ancient history are as much at his finger's ends as Potter's and Adams' Antiquities. Then again, to turn to another part of his character, no one contracts fewer bills, or pays them more regularly; no one lives more abstemiously; no one is known to sock himself less. Convinced as I am that this character is very imperfectly, and certainly very unmethodically drawn, I must now hasten to a conclusion, confessing that sufficient justice could never be done to the merits of L- T——, by

"Your very affectionate friend,

"DECIMUS WILLEN."

After this flaming panegyric on myself how shall I do justice to my friend Decimus? He is the very opposite to myself; gay, lively, well-made and well-dressed. This last is, perhaps, one of his foibles, for he will spend hours at Tom Brown's discussing the merits of a collar, or the set of a coat. Then he'll lounge up town, one hand ungloved, while his curly locks escape in studied negligence from under his hat, and unfortunately, he too openly manifests that he thinks himself a handsome fellow. Then he is addicted to all the sports of the school.

Who can bowl as straight as Decimus Willen? Who is more certain to block the best ball? Who pulls a better stroke? He is the idol of all who know him, and especially among the cads, who look up to him as their patron; and it is whispered, indeed, but no, I must not propagate invidious reports. Sufficient for fame is its

own quickness of circulation. No one could or would be more willing to lend a helping hand to Decimus's good report, but when I mention that this is no enviable fame, I may be excused from pushing forward an evil which

Mobilitate viget, viresque acquirit eundo.

Decimus is my friend, and I only mention this as a gentle hint. Then Willen is truly idle with regard to the classics; but he is constantly scribbling English. Poetry and prose, essays and sonnets distil equally well from his pen; that is, when he is in the humour. He can roar ye as 'twere a nightingale," for which good qualification I intend him to be the lion of the "Kaleidoscope." It is a character he can easily support.

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He will be my inspired poet, and Matathias Grumbleton, who is a ci-devant Etonian, now of Grub (I beg his pardon, Milton) Street, is my penny-a-line man. Matathias is an extraordinary person, short, fat, square, and wears a scratch wig, which, instead of twenty, gives him nearly the appearance of sixty. A wretched fever ruined his health, and lost him his hair and property. From this calamity he has just recovered, and his wits being now