(-) stopping as if the point wanted settling. And after the nominative case, (which, your lordship knows, should govern the verb,) he suspended his voice in the epilogue a dozen times, three seconds and three-fifths, by a stop-watch, my lord, each time Admirable grammarian! But, in suspending his voice, was the sense suspended likewise? Did no expression of attitude or countenance fill up the chasm? Was the eye silent? Did you narrowly look? I looked only at the stop-watch, my lord. And what of this new book the whole world makes such a rout about? Oh! 'tis out of all plumb, my lord-quite an irregular thing!-not one of the angles at the four corners was a right angle. I had my rule and compasses, my lord, in my pocket. Excellent critic! And, for the epic poem your lordship bid me look at—upon taking the length, breadth, height, and depth of it, and trying them at home upon an exact scale of Bossu's-'tis out, my lord, in every one of its dimensions. Admirable connoisseur! And did you step in to take a look at the grand picture, in your way back? 'Tis a melancholy daub, my lord; not one principle of the pyramid in any one group! And what a price!-for there is nothing of the coloring of Titian-the expression of Rubensthe grace of Raphael-the purity of Dominichino-the corregiescity of Corregio-the learning of Poussin-the airs of Guido-the taste of the Garrichis-or the grand contour of Angelo. Grant me patience! Of all the cants which are canted in this canting world, the cant of criticism is the most tormenting. I would go fifty miles on foot, to kiss the hand of that man whose generous heart will give up the reins of his imagination into his author's hands-be pleased, he knows not why and cares not wherefore. THE MONKEY THAT SHAVED HIMSELF AND HIS FRIENDS A MAN who own'd a barber's shop It chanc'd in shop the dog and cat, The dog runs howling round and bleeding. Nor yet was tir'd our roguish elf: Then with left hand holds smooth his jaw ; The razor, in his dexter paw, Around he flourishes and slashes, He raised, to shave beneath his chin; Drew razor swift as he could pull it, MORAL. Who cannot write, yet handle pens, HOTSPUR'S ACCOUNT OF A FOP.-SHAKSPEARE. My liege, I did deny no prisoners, And, twixt his finger and his thumb he held, And still he smiled and talked : And as the soldiers bare dead bodies by, He called them "untaught knaves, unmannerly, With many holiday and lady terms He questioned me; amongst the rest demanded I then all smarting with my wounds, being galled Out of my grief and my impatience, Answered neglectingly-I know not what- To see him shine so brisk and smell so sweet, And talk so like a waiting gentlewoman, Of guns, and drums, and wounds, (heaven save the mark!) Was parmacity for an inward bruise; This bald, unjointed chat of his, my lord, And I beseech you, let not this report "BOXIANA."-HOOD. I hate the very name of box; It 'minds me of the woes I've felt, They sent me to a Yorkshire school, For there my schoolmates box'd my ears. I pack'd my box; I pick'd the locks; And ran away to sea; I came ashore-I called a coach, The coach upset against a post, I had a pretty garden there, All border'd round with box; He took my wife to see the play;— I jealous grew, and from that day, I sold my house,-I left my wife ;- I went to law, whose greedy maw The name of box I therefore dread, I've had so many shocks; They'll never end,—for when I'm dead, THE DANCING MASTER ABROAD.-HALIBURTON. Now, said Mr. Slick, to change the tune, I'll give the bluenoses a new phrase. They'll have an election, most likely, next year, and then "the dancin' master will be abroad." A candidate is a most particular polite man, and anoddin' here, |