quence whatever, injure instead of benefiting the causes they are pleased to adopt. But when they assume, as of late they appear to have no scruples in doing, something like that public and authoritative character to which they have no claim more than the cattle in the fields-when they hint that their voice is the voice of their country, that their interference is the interference of England, that they are any thing more than they really are-their conduct both assumes a character of more intolerable arrogance and presumption, and seems well calculated to produce consequences of the most tragic nature. Sir Robert Wilson negotiates in Spain; and Mr Blaquiere talks of its "occurring" to him "that the presence of an agent of some kind would be favourably interpreted by the Provisional Government and people of Greece !!" A notion in which he says a "most flattering reception afterwards convinced him he was not mistaken!" Good, very good! are we really come to this, that any foreign peoples or governments are to put favourable interpretations upon matters of this mighty importance! The arrival of Mr Blaquiere!" the presence of an agent of some kind!" An agent indeed!"With surety stronger than Achilles' arm Fore all the Greekish heads, which with one voice Call Agamemnon General!" SHAKESPEARE. Lord Byron has gone to Greece: this is, to be sure, rather a different matter from Mr Blaquiere's embassy: But we must have rather more facts than Mr Blaquiere's pamphlet furnishes, before we commit ourselves by saying anything as to his Lordship's prospects in this picturesque, and, we doubt not, generous adventure. It is not our fault, if these people manage matters so as to make all rational men regard them with jealousy. It is not our fault, that the Edinburgh Review, and its worthy colleague, the Morning Chronicle, attack everything that the Christians of this country have been taught to hold dear, in the one page, and sound a trumpet about the necessity of humbling "the Infidels" (what a sweet phrase from them!) in the next. It is not our fault, if the same loyal and enlightened Whigs, who give a dinner to Messrs BROUGHAM and DENMAN, and toast "Reform," the one day, are pleased to give a supper on the following night to Mr LAW LESS! and toast "Kinloch of Kinloch," and "the memory of Emmett." It is not our fault, if the cloven hoof will not be at the trouble to keep itself decently concealed. We must disclaim, however, any intention of saying anything against Mr Blaquiere. On the contrary, his pamphlet leads us to believe that he is an amiably disposed young man-very much so. We have no doubt he has the best possible intentions, and we honour him for them. But we really do not believe that there was any absolute necessity for his interfering between the Turks and the Greeks. We consider it as quite possible that these parties may in the end settle their matters without thinking of "the Greek Committee;" and hope, in the meantime, that Mr Blaquiere's book, which is to come out at the beginning of the next publishing season, may be better got up than his pamphlet, which appeared at the fag-end of the last. What is become of General Pepe ? Where is Count Pecchio ? Are Sir Robert Wilson's "Commentaries on the Peninsular War" to be in 8vo or 4to? Is there to be no subscription for a monument to Dr Watson, junior? Is it true that Lieut.-General the Earl of Rosslyn is about to give up his office in the Chancery of Scotland? Is it true that all the lawyers have advised the dishing of the Jury Court in Scotland? Is it true that Mr Brougham is resolved to have another run at the Chancellor? Is it true that Mr John M'Farlane, advocate, approves of the plan? Is it true that Mr Shireff of St Ninians has really quitted the Kirk of Scotland? Is it true that he declined being the new Pope? Is it true that the Princess Olive has fallen in love with Mr Owen? Is it true that every body is eloping? Is it true that Mr Waithman is Lord Mayor of London? Is it true that Mr Hone is turned Methodist? Is it true that Mr Irving has come to the end of his tether? Is it true that Alaric Watts blew up Fonthill? Is it true that there were sixteen Guidos? Is it true that Mr Beckford thinks Mr Fox was no better than he should have been? Is it true that Cooper and Russell are to fight next spring on the Steyne? Is it true that Mr Leslie has brought home the Belvidere Apollo? Is it true that the Morning Chronicle has been talking of " the two celebrated Generals, Odysseus and Ulysses?" We pause for a reply. SAWNEY AT DONCASTER. By the Author of the Ayrshire Legatecs, &c. *** 'DEED, ye see that same job o' the horse, amang the lave o' my Yorkshire exploits, is a come-to-pass well worthy of a record. For, ye should know, an it were necessar' to tell you, that I was a stranger at Leeds, and very guarded I was in my dealings, 'cause and on account o' the notour character of the Yorkshire folk, for jinking in their bargains; and really whan my friend, and long correspondent there, offered, in a civil and free manner that I must needs allow-his horse, to take me o'er to Doncaster, I swithered, and was in a sore hesitation of mind concerning the same, for I need not tell you, that there's no part of the habit and repute of the York shire folk more unsettled among their customers, than their ways of dealing anent horses; nay, and what's very extraordinar among honest men, they make no secret of the glamour they have used in their traffic in that commodity. Therefore, as ye may well suppose, when Mr Shalloons was so complaisant as to offer me his horse, I had a jealousy that he was not without an end for his own behoof; for which cause, and natural suspicion, ye may think I was not overly keen to comply with his obliging offer, for really, to speak God's truth, no man could be more well-bred and discreet than he was in making me that same offer. However, for all that I could either say or do, he was really so pressing with his civility, that it would have been a very coarse conduct on my part to have persisted in a denial. Well, so ye see the horse being so proffered, and the proffer so consented to by me, on the day I had sorted out of the week I was to be there, for that aforesaid and same journey to Doncaster, the beast was brought to the door of the house where I staid, and there having laid my legs o'er the saddle, I found it a composed and canny brute, Mr M'Lauchlan of Fuddy's fine geld ing was no surer footed; and so, as ye may suppose, me and the horse, I on its back, rode our ways towards that same boroughs-town of Doncaster, and the farther I rode, and the mair I grew acquaint with the horse, the mair reason I had to be thankful for the very solid politesse of my civil correspond ent. But to make a short of a long tale, and no to descant and enlarge on the civility of the lads at the inns and taverns that we passed,-indeed, for that matter, they were ower gleg for me; for, to confess a fault, they thereby wiled from me a sixpence, where I would have gart a twal-pennies do at the door of ony stabler in all Scotland. But at the time I did na begrudge that liberality on my part, having so footy and well-going a beast for a bethank, as I had that aforesaid and the same. But I'll no say that, now and then, when I thought of the habit and repute of the Yorkshire folk, concerning their horses, I hadna a dread upon me that all wasna sound at the bottomthe more especially as the horse lost a shoe soon after we had passed through the first toll, the which I thought a remarkable thing. However, as I was saying, the horse and me arrived safe at the aforesaid and same boroughs town of Doncaster, and no beast, after such a journey, could be in better order, than was that aforesaid and same. But now I have to rehearse of what ensued. Ye're to know and understand, that there was then in Doncaster a grand ploy, which they call the Sen Leger, the which is a kind of a horse-race; but no like our creditable Leith races of old, and those sprees of moderation of the same sort that's ha'den in their stead at Musselburgh, Really the King's visit was just a Sabbath till't-never was seen such a jehuing o' coaches, such a splashery o' horses, and swearing and tearing o' gentlemen and flunkies; it was just a thing by common. But no to summer and winter about you dreadful horse races, and the gambling there anent, enough to make a sober man's hair stand on end, I alighted at the door of an inn, and I gave the horse the same and aforesaid, that had so well brought me there, to an hostler lad; and went to see what I might be able to do in the way of custom among the shops. But the wearyful Sen Leger was ahint every counter; and upon the whole it was but a thriftless journey, I soon found, that I had come upon; and therefore I came to an agreement with myself, in my own mind, to go back to Leeds, and then think of com ing northward. So having in that way resolved, I went back to the inns, and told the hostler lad to have the horse the same and aforesaid that I had come on, ready betimes in the morn, and then I returned to the house of a correspondent that had invited me to sleep, because of the extortionate state of the inns. But I know not what came ower me-surely it was a token of what was to happen-I got but little rest, and my thoughts were aye running on the poor horse, the same and aforesaid, that had brought me from Leeds, and more especially anent the repute of the Yorkshire folk as horse-cowpers. However, at the last, I had a composed refreshment, and I rose as I had portioned, and went to the inns, and there the hostler lad, at the very minute the hour chappit, brought forth, as I thought, the horse. But, think what was my consternation, when going to loup on I discovered that it was nae mair Mr Shalloons' horse than I was Mr Shalloons. "Lad," said I, "nane of your tricks upon travellers-that's no my horse." By glum!" says he, "it be's 66 your horse." "Na," quo' I, "I'll take my oath on't, that's no the horse I brought to this house." "It be's your horse, sir, so on and be off," said he, in a very audacious manner. "I'll never lay leg out o'er that beast in this world, for to a surety it's no mine. Deil's in the fallow, does he think what might come on me if I were catcht riding another man's horse in Yorkshire?" "I tells you," quo' the hostler, "it be your horse-I wouldn't go never to tell no lies about it. A nice bit of blood it be too-no genleman need cross better.-Please, sir, to mount." "Mount!-do ye think I'm by mysel, and that I dinna ken ae horse frae another?" said I: "that horse is no mine, and mine he'll never be, so gang back to the stable, and bring the one I put into your hands yestreen, or I'll maybe find a way to gar you.' "Well, to be sure, if you be'nt a rum ane; why, sir, does you not see that there white foot?-your horse had a white foot-which be a testificate that this here horse be's your horse." "I tell you, white foot or black foot, that's no my horse, and if ye dinna bring my own, I'll have you afore the Sheriff." "D-n his green breeches !— I doesn't care-no, nothing at all-for Sir William Ingleby, for this be your horse; I'll tak my davy on't." "Horse!" quo' I, "that's a mare." "By jingo, so it be's!" was the ne'er-do-weel's answer, and I saw him laughing in his sleeve; howsoever, he had a remnant of impudence yet left, and he said, "But your horse was a mare." At this my corruption rose, and I could stand no more, but, giving a powerful stamp, I cried, " Deevils in hell!" which was a hasty word for me to say, "d'ye think I'll tak a mare for a horse ?" So he, seeing that I was in my imperative mood, as Mr Andrew the schoolmaster says, put his tongue in his cheek, as I saw, and went into the house of the inns, and brought out a very civil, well-fared, gentleman-like man, the landlord, who said to me, with great contrition, that their stables being full, and some of the grooms drunk, my horse had been unfortunately hanged quite dead, and his skin gone to the tan-pit; but that, to make an indemnification, he had got one as like it as possible, and a much better than mine was; however, through inadvertency, a mare had been brought. "I shall not, however," said he, "make two words about it; your horse, I think, was worth fifty guineas-I will pay you the money." "Fifty guineas!" quo' I; "nane o' your fifty guineas to me; he was worth sixty pounds if he was worth a farthing." "I'll pay you the price," said the landlord," and all the favour I ask in return is that you will not tell at what house the accident happened;" so he paid me the money, but really I was for a season not easy to think of the way that such a sum for a horse had come out of a Yorkshire hand into my pouch. Howsever, as the horse was dead and gone, I could make no better o't than to put up the notes, which I did, and came back to Leeds in a stage-coach, thinking all the way of what I should say to Mr Shalloons; and in a terrible dread I was that he would not be content with the sixty pound, but obligate me to pay a tyrannical sum. Howsever, having considered with myself, as soon as I arrived at Leeds, I went to him-aye thinking of the Yorkshire way of cheating with horses -and I said, "Mr Shalloons, yon's a very convenient and quiet beast of yours; would ye do a friend a favour, and sell't to me on reasonable terms?" "It is," quo' he, "a very passable hack-I did not wish to part wi't; but as you have taken a fancy to him, you shall have him for forty guineas." Forty guineas, Mr Shalloons," cried I-"Na, surely you could never look for that-Thirty's mair like the price.' "Half the difference," said he, "and the horse is yours." " "Make it punds, Mr Shalloons, and I'll tak him," quo' I. "Well, pounds let it be," said he -so I paid him the five-and-thirty pounds out of the sixty, by the which I had a clear profit of five-and-twenty pounds, præter the price of my ticket by the coach, which is an evidence and a fact to me, that a Scotchman may try his hand at horse-flesh with a Yorkshireman ony day in the year, the Sen Leger fair-day at Doncaster not excepted. LONDON ODDITIES AND OUTLINES. No. IV. THE theatres have commenced with great promise for the season. CoventGarden, partially eclipsed during the last, by the new brilliancy of DruryLane, was determined to outshine all rivalry, present and future; and its opening on the 1st of October undoubtedly exhibited a coup d'ail of singular beauty. The roof of the proscenium is a brilliant sky, with a golden sun large enough to enlighten ten such hemispheres. The ceiling is circular and celestial, so far as it can be made such, by clouds, glimpses of vivid blue, and a central fountain of light, a chandelier of great magnificence. The fronts of the boxes are all golden; and golden without the glare of gold. The upper gallery is removed to a more undiscoverable elevation, and the old thunder of the gods is thus subdued into a murmur-a fortunate change for the mortals. A multitude of subordinate contrivances for comfort and security have been adopted, which escape the general eye. The tiers etat have been remembered, and backs have been put to the seats in the pit-a grand innovation in theatres, and no trivial convenience. It might be a curious calculus, to estimate how many plays have perished for the want of this comfortable application to the backs of the critics. The pitmen, once the arbiters of the drama, were in the most trying situation that ever exercised human patience. What complacency could be expected from a multitude squeezed, pinched, trampled on, and condensed into an old pit-audience, with discomfort assailing them in every point bare benches, and backless seats. The first half-hour of this carnal agony must have put the most benevolent criticism out of temper, and are we to wonder that the play was hissed, when hissing was the only way to escape martyrdom? Why do not some of our archaeologists make themselves immortal, and dissertate upon the composition of the pit of the last century? Dry bones, Roman buttons, and Saxon shoe-ties, have had their day. No man can now hope to build an eternal fame on pitchers and tooth-picks, Greek as they may be. Hogarth would have done it justice, and ought to have done himself the justice of leaving its picture for his fame. The first rows filled by young Templars, full of country freshness, just fledged in town impudence. The centre blackened with a gloomy and compressed mass, an iron phalanx of fierce physiognomies, the veterans of the inns of court, and the coffeehouses, when coffee-houses were, what they ought to be, chapels of ease to Farnassus; every man of them with a bag-wig on his head, a rapier by his side, and the glory of Congreve, Wycherley, and Farquhar, firm on his bitter and inky lips. But those days are gone, and the supremacy of the pit is gone with them. Labuntur anni, et nos labimur. Citizens, in their various dimensions of body, occupy the place of the Zoiluses departed; the apprentices, from the commercial population of Bow Street, and its environs, occupy, by advantage of neighbourhood, the early places of the pit, and form the advanced guard. The ladies, bonnetted, capped, and snooded, occupy the rear, and, with some adventurous exceptions that push forward as eclaireurs among the central, and even the front benches, constitute the most elevated, as well as the most attractive portion of the tribunal-a tribunal no more. The spirit of judgment is fled. Minos, acus, and Rhadamanthus, frown no longer; and their tenderer substitutes now sit out unrepining the whole five hours, with melo-dramas in their eyes, and sentimentalism going on at their ears. Covent Garden commences with a considerable dramatic force. Young, who sustained his reputation so effectually at Drury Lane, will now have a broader field for his powers, and they are certainly popular in a very high degree. A new actor, Rayner, who, after having been, as an amateur, an enthusiastic admirer of Emery, has become an actor in his range of parts, has already exhibited unusual vivid ness and energy. Whether he has humour equal to his force, is yet to be discovered, but he has palpably made an impression upon the audience. The strength of the campaign will probably be in comedy and opera, and thus it must continue till a great tragic actress appears. Tragedy is supreme, and when a woman of tragic talent shall tread the stage, all its minor performances must give way. Sinclair, who held a high rank before his Italian tour, has returned with improved taste and science. Whether the improvement has extended to his tone, is yet to be ascertained. Some operas are awaiting him, and he will have "no brother near the throne." Melodramas are announced, and both theatres will take the field with a numerous cavalry. A squadron from Paris are actually under orders for Covent Garden, the native dramatists having been already enlisted by Elliston. Thus Drury Lane is again to be violated by a horse's hoof. But the managers on both sides console themselves with the allowable jest, that whatever men may do, horses are notoriously better to draw. Rival melo-dramas are already bristling with dreadful note of preparation; the whole machinery of nature is fearlessly brought into requisition.__The Ganges is already announced at Drury Lane; Vesuvius is preparing a counter wonder at Covent Garden. An earthquake nearly ready at the one, is to be combated by a comet at the other. Neither side relies on native phenomena. A cascade of the most formidable dimensions is already travelling by easy stages from Paris, and to meet this with an overwhelming superiority, a steam-boat is waiting at Calais, to bring over a general conflagration. LETTER FROM A CONTRIBUTOR IN LOVE. DEAR NORTH, I CANNOT possibly do that article upon the Digamma this month; so you must get on without it, and I am sure you have plenty. The fact is, I fell in love last Thursday, by the merest accident in the world; and am now sitting at my bowwindow, fronting the Regent's-Park, watching the Paddington coaches as they pass, and sighing and growing quite lack-a-daisical. If you think it likely you shall be short, perhaps I may get poetic towards the 15th; and loss of innocence," you know, (I mean my own innocence,) "sounds well in verse." But this by the way. As for town, there is nothing stirring in it. The two great Theatres opened on the 1st, Drury with a swinging company, and a show and a dance two nights before. They have Kean, Mac ready, Elliston himself, (the rogue is worth the world, after all, in comedy,) Wallack, Liston, Dowton, Terry, and Harley; and, besides all this, there is Kitty-beautiful Kitty!"-who can speak a hundred times more music than any other woman in the world can sing. Covent-Garden seems to be dreaming this season, as well as the last. "Doctor! the thanes fly from me!" They are losing all their showy people. Improvements, however, (and effective ones,) have been made about the house; and Young, Sinclair, Charles Kemble, Miss Paton, and Miss Chester, will bring something. And what did they do at opening? Why, both places dull enough. Much Ado about Nothing, and The Rivalssterling, but stale. There was a new farce, however, with a horrible name |