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It has become, within these few days, a subject of considerable discussion, among our wiseacres—whether it really is, or is not, proper to keep our Theatre shut. The alarmists tremble at the spirit of the Cholera which might be summoned up from the "Tasty deep" of the pit, while others laugh at the idea of a phantom pouring forth poisonous gales from either the regions above or below.


A Second edition of the " Divarication of the New Testament," by Thomas Wibghan, Esq. is in the press.

Bibliophobia—" Remarks on the Present State of Literature and the Book Trade," by Mercurius Rcsticus, with Notes by Cato Parvus, is about to be published.

Mr. Medwin Is preparing for publication " A Life of Lord Byron."

"Poland, and Other Poems," are announced.


I Frequently visited the seed store of Mr. Thorburn, at New York, a character of some celebrity, and of great originality, being, as he informed me at our first interview, the " very identicalLawiie Too1," and that, so far as the first volume of that entertaining work goes, Mr. Gait had exactly recorded his life and adventures. Besides other sources of enjoyment, Mr. Thorburn is distinguished for a lively and unfailing reliance upon a special over-ruling Providence, not a blind fatalism, but a conviction that, in all the crosses of life, a blessing will be found by those who faithfully seek it. He detailed many singular illustrations of this doctrine in his own history, and altogether gratified me much by his acquaintance. His original profession was that of a nail maker, at Dalkeith, and by that alone he looked for a livelihood in the New World. Soon after his arrival, however, this handicraft was annihilated by the introduction of machinery, and poor Thorburn was driven to open the small grocery store for subsistence to Phcmie and himself. It was his practice to visit the butcher market at a late hour, that he might pick up a cheap morsel, and, observing it man offering plants for sale in pots, and seemingly, like himself, rather low in the world, Thorburn accosted him. He proved to be a countryman, an industrious, but rather unsuccessful, market gardener, of the name of Inglis, from Kirkaldy; and, from a sort of commiseration, Thorburn bought a rose geranium, intending to ornament his shop. At this time he scarce knew a geranium from a cabbage. Pleased with his purchase, when he got home he painted his pot a gay green, and placed it in his window. "And now," says he, when he told me this story, with his eyes twinkling, "mark the kindness of Providence. The day after my geranium appeared in its new pot, a lady, happening to drive past, remarked its beauty, and not only bought it at a handsome price, but gave me such orders as enabled me to open a busy trade with poor Inglis. My shop soon became more celebrated for plants than for tea and tobacco; and, many inquiries having been made for garden-seeds, I procured an assortment, and gradually extended my concern until I reached the possession of the handsome premises and flourishing trade which I now enjoy.—Fergusson's Notes on America.


Woman's Love.—The doubt and fear, the caprice and change which agitate the surface, swell also the tides of passion. Woman, too, whose love is so much the creation of her imagination, always asks something of mystery and conjecture in the object of her affection. It is a luxury to her to perplex herself with a thousand apprehensions; and the more restlessly her lover occupies her

mind, the more deeply he enthrals it Eugene Aram.

Mental Ambition It is a deadening thought to mental ambition, that the circle of happiness we can create is formed more by our moral, than our mental qualities. A warm heart, though accompanied but by a mediocre understanding, is even more likely to promote the happiness of those around, than are the absorbed and abstract, though kindly powers, of a more elevated genius.— Eugene Aram.

A Lover's First Absence. — A first absence, when softened by hope, is perhaps one of the most touching passages in the history of woman's love. It is marvellous how many things, unheeded before, suddenly become dear. She then feels what a power of consecration there was in the mere presence of the one beloved; the spot he touched, the book he read, have become a part of him—are no longer inanimate—are inspired, and have a being and a voice. And the heart too, soothed in discovering so many new treasures, and opening so delightful a world of memory, is not yet acquainted with that weariness—that sense of exhaustion and solitude, which are the true pains of absence, and belong to the absence, not of hope, but regret.—Eugene Aram.


The prejudice in favour of French china and Its painting has long existed and still continues; but the following circumstance which took place but a few years back ought to remove some of this predilection for foreign manufactures of art.

The late excellent china painter, Thomas Baxter, was called upon by one of our first amateurs to ornament an article of porcelain with some devices or characters suitable to its form; they were such as it might be supposed an English artist could accomplish. While receiving the order, Baxter had his eye upon the china closet, which the gentleman observing, said,—

"That is French, Mr. Baxter?"

"Not all, sir, I believe."

"How! What is not?"

"This, sir;" pointing to an article among the rich assemblage of forms.

"How know you that, Mr. Baxter?"

"Sir, I painted it myself; the porcelain indeed is French, and was brought to me for the purpose of painting it by —— of Fleet Street."

"You are perfectly right," said the amateur; I bought it there." But our artist found no further encouragement from that quarter.


"An' ye're at the schule now, are ye?" was the interrogatory of a countryman to a little nephew, who had a short time before commenced his education. *' An' d'ye like the schule, my man?" "Yes," whispered the boy. "That's richt, ye'll be a braw scholar Use warrand—boo far up are ye, hinny ?"—" second dux"—" second dux! say ye? od man ye deserve something for that"—thrusting two whole penny pieces into the hand of the delighted urchin. "An' hoo mony's in yere class ?"—" Me an' a lassy!"


The Virtues Op Washington.—It is perfectly wonderful, considering the state of the Provinces at the period of the revolution, how a people so thinly scattered, and, in every respect, so indifferently prepared for the mighty contest, were able to cope with, and finally withstand, the concentrated powers of Britain. A great human instrument was raised up in Washington, a man whom I shall ever revere as one of the most perfect characters which any age of our world has produced. No name stands higher than his in the annals of true fame; and, when we cast into the balance the amount of human happiness which his talents, his labours, and his Christian virtues, secured to the boundless regions of the West, there is neither hero nor legislator who can dispute his claim to be recorded as the bravest and the best of his race.—Ftrgusson.

The Americans keep a sharp look-out for news from Europe, and more than one newspaper has a tRst-sailing cutter constantly cruising off Sandy-Hook, to intercept the packets or other vessels. We were boarded, about sixteen miles off laud, by one of these quid nunce, and gave him our journals Ibid.


"The Burning of the Emigrant Ship" we had discovered to have been already printed, before we received " Omega's" letter. We had therefore laid it aside, and have determined, for the future, to guard ourselves against any impositiou, by inserting nothing without the name and address of the author.

'* W. M. F.'s Lines on Woman" are rather an Enigma than an Epigram. We thank him for his good opinion of us . but we must decline inserting his stanzas, unless he can render them less obscure.

"The First Love" is put into the hands of our poetical critic

ear All communications for the Editor of " The Dt r" are requested to be left with the Publisher, Mr. John Finlay, No. 9, Miller Street.


Morninu. Evening.
h. m. h. m.

Friday, 1 48 2 5

Saturday, 2 22 2 38

Published, every Morning, Sunday excepted, by John Finlay, at No. 9, Miller Street; and Sold by John Wylie, 97, Argyle Street; David Robertson, and W. It. M'phun, Glasyuw; Thomas Stevenson, and the other Booksellers, Edinburgh: DaVid Dick, Bookseller, PaisleyJ Thomson, Greenock; and J. Glass, Bookseller, Fothsay.


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Since the almost suppression of the contraband trade, the name of the smuggler has an interesting charm thrown around it. We instantly recognise in it, the rough weather-beaten features of the bold son of the ocean, who, regardless of every consequence, sets the laws and customs of nations at defiance. We often discover in him, liberal traits of blunt benevolence, and generally find him possessed of cool, deliberative, but fearless heroism; and, when we read or hear of the hair-breadth escapes attendant on his hazardous traffic, we could wish his misapplied abilities, and illdirected energies, had been devoted to a more honest and honourable pursuit.

In delineating the life of a smuggler, the fascinating pen of the novelist generally paints it under a false colour, and unnatural guise. We are uniformly shewn the bright side of the picture: every gust of curbless passion, to which he may be a slave, is artfully concealed; every deed of cruelty which may have cast a deeper stain on his lawless career, is carefully kept out of sight: but, were these on every occasion shewn in their naked deformity, we would find his most daring enterprizes often characterized by reckless carelessness; his generosity and benevolence, the impulse of the moment; and, although many qualities appear, which we are bound to revere, when gilded by the masterly touch of a Cooper, we have reason to be grateful for the measures which are in force to protect thefairtrader, andrestrain his adventurous opponent, who, though some deeds of intrepidity may call forth our admiration, it is but for a moment. They may be compared to the thundering fury of the mountain torrent, swelled by the winter storm. Safely situated beyond its power, we contemplate, with fearful awe, the resistless havoc with which its maddened career is marked: every obstruction is levelled, every impediment is swept away in its march of destruction; but its fury is soon spent—we banish the emotions which its grandeur excited— we look to the devastation it has caused on the fertile plain beneath, and our eyes are turned to the bubbling rill, on whose banks verdure delights to linger, where may be seen the little daisy, with virgin modesty, half concealing its blushing charms, and we sit down with pleasure beside the flowing fountain, to which winter does not add nor summer diminish.

One evening, in November, 179—, a small craft was seen off the stormy head-land of Cantyre, running before the wind with all the sail she could carry. She was deeply laden; but the way she made, bore ample proof to the neatness of her mould and the steadiness of her helmsman; while the anxious looks which her crew, from time to time, gave to the setting sun, as the opening clouds discovered him plunging in the western ocean, and the burst of joy which escaped each lip as his last rays illumined the pennant, left no room to conjecture that they hailed, with rapture, the the appearance of a dark and starless night. Ian Cambeul Off, about this period, was well known on the

• Young wry-mouthed John; Cam beul signifying wry, or crooked mouth, being the two word* from whence the name Campbell is derived.

western coast. The dangers he encountered in his perilous pursuits have furnished many an evening's amusement to the ceilidh* going natives of these shores; and often, while regaling themselves with a cup of his Hollands, have they drank, "a smooth sea and a rattling breeze to the ' Argyle'," while all who sought her harm, they charitably wished to be snugly cased in old Davy's locker. But something more than idle interest in the fate of the Smuggler called forth these fervent wishes: few of the petty lairds about the coast, but had a share in the benefits of the enterprise, or calculated on supplying their families with liquor at a cheap and easy rate; and, if we can forget the breach which his conduct made on the established rules of society, few were entitled to higher confidence, than the daring Campbell. His dealings with those who entrusted him with their capital, were scrupulously honest; while a long run of successful voyages made them look upon him as one whom the treacherous element had particularly favoured.

Varied and imminent had been his escapes. At one time, after having landed part of his cargo in safety on the shores of Mull, he stood away for Easdale, where he generally harboured; but he had not proceeded far, when his wary eye, with the aid of a glass, noticed the long streamer of a revenue cruiser, with crowded sails, in order to catch the coming breeze, as it began to ripple the top of the sluggish swell, which the strong current on that coast usually produces. From the quantity he landed of her cargo, his vessel was in good sailing trim, and, under any circumstances, had he been out of reach of the cruiser's guns, would have bade her defiance, but where he lay it was a dead calm, and if observed, he saw no possibility of escaping. However he manned the yawl, and immediately put about, intending to have towed her under the lee of a small island close upon him, where he could anchor till the king's vessel had disappeared; as she was carried along by the strong current of an ebb tide, which she was careful to keep; but the smuggler's manoeuvre came too late. The cruiser was seen to lay to, and a boat, well manned and armed, to leave her, and pulling direct his way. What was to be done, his crew, vessel and cargo were at stake. His long experience indeed told him, that a smart breeze was setting in, but the boat was nearing him every moment, and he could hear the voice of the cockswain, as he cheered the arduous rowers with a bitter scowl. He instinctively grasped the tiller, but never before did his good bark disobey his wish, the enemy was now within a pistol shot of him, and all was ready to board, when, providentially, the impending breeze, at that instant filled the mainsail, and away shot the Argyle, like a dart; and, ere her pursuers could again get their boat under weigh, she was several yards ahead : while her master with his usual frankness, took up a flask of gin, threw it into their boat, told them to take a dram after their toil, and pledge the health of John Campbell and the safety of his crew. Fatigued and disappointed, they returned to their commander and reported the failure of their pursuit, and the escape of the smuggler, whose daring conduct called upon him to exercise a double degree of vigilance in order to save his Majesty's flag from disgrace; and, having

• Gossiping.

received information soon after, that the Argyle had put to sea, he steered away for the coast of Cantyre, where he expected to meet her on her homeward voyage; and where we now find her, on her return from Holland, with a well stowed hold of contraband commodities. But the breeze, which had been fresh on the forepart of the day, began to slacken, much against the smuggler's mind, who had been exulting in his near prospect of home. Deeply laden, and with a strong tide against him, he had made but little way through the night, and, in the morning, he found himself in the sound of Jura, and unfortunately within half an hour's sailing of the dreaded cruiser. He was instantly observed, and a shot from one of the chasers of his Majesty's ship, ordered him to lay to, but this was disregarded by the smuggler, who, taking advantage of a stiff breeze which set in as the sun began to rise, spread every stitch of canvass he could muster, and bore away for the sound of Mull, where he knew that if he could gain upon his pursuer, he might lighten his vessel, and then they might continue a hopeless chase.

For several hours the sailing qualities of the respective vessels were put to the test; but, although the cruiser could not gain an inch upon the smuggler while the breeze stood fresh, it was evident that the latter had now no chance of escaping. Between the islands of Jura and Scarba, is the dreaded whirlpool of Corryvrekin, which, when it is not high water, it is next to impossible to navigate. This the King's men easily perceived, and, by keeping close upon the weather, ere the smuggler could round the point, she brought herself right under the cruiser's guns. This was not unobserved by the cautious Campbell, and, having held a few seconds' consultation with his men, the next moment the Argyle was seen dancing among the boiling eddies of the dangerous vortex. Whether from fear or not we cannot say, but the cruiser did not attempt the dangerous passage, and, in consequence, the fugitive was several miles a-head of her, which was not left unimproved. Knowing every creek and bay along the coast, he kept on for Loch Fuichan, where, unobserved by his pursuers, in a few minutes he had his vessel dismantled, scuttled and sunk, his men sent ashore, and when the other was seen coming round the point with a majestic sweep, no trace of Ian Ogi or his vessel could be seen. Findiug themselves mistaken, they instantly put about, while those who made them their dupes, laughed heartily at the success of their exploit, and waited the ebb in order to raise their vessel. The cruiser bore on for Oban, mad with disappointment, and unable to account for the disappearance of the wily smuggler. Campbell made some successful trips afterwards. The Argyle was, latterly, seized and condemned—however at the time she was empty; and Campbell used to boast, if the King got the shell he got the kernel.


To the Editor of Tbb Dir. Sir,—My brothers and sisters and I intended each to have sent an answer to the Charade in your Thursday's paper, but your correspondent who replied to it anticipated us.

Probably, Mr. Editor, you who know every thing, will be an adept in the mysteries of acted Charades, which form a most agreeable amusement in our family during the long evenings. As it seems to be your intention, in the present state of our city, to patronize innocent entertainment, I have taken the liberty of presenting you with the simplest form of an acted Charade, so that your readers, may, if they please, participate in this harmless enjoyment.

Suppose then, that the company, like your own Council, consists of Ten—four are selected to act. The condition on which they perform, is, that they must endeavour to act the syllables of the word they

select, and also pronounce these syllables in their speeches. Let three gentlemen and one lady be selected, as has been proposed. They retire, and determine the word they shall attempt to act, which, in the present instance, we shall suppose to be friendship. According to rule, the actors must use the word friend in the first act. The word ship in the second, and should the rest of the party be yet unable to discover the original word friendship, then it must be repeated at full length in the third act.

But I shall enlighten the ignorant more readily, by example than by precept. Observe, friendship is the word to be acted.

[Jane, Charles, James and Robert retire.'}

Enter Jane and Charles.

Chas Well, my dear Jane, have you perused the

new novel?

Jos Yes, there is in it much to please, and more

to interest me.

Chas.—Its details are very amusing, the minuteness of the author is occasionally tedious however, and although his descriptions are evidently of places and things he has seen, yet that is only an advantage when interesting objects are selected.

Jane True. Yet it gives probability to the

whole narrative, and is considered, by many persons, as strong as "proof of holy writ."

Chas Such was the author's intention. But does

not he manage the love scenes very well?

Jane.—Delightfully. The heroine is, indeed, a charming creature—give me your candid opinion of the work.

Chas. —(offering his arm). Now let us walk together and consider its merits. We are alike in our taste and in our sentiments, and delight in the company of each other.

Jane.—Oh I yes. But to the novel. Do you not admire the character of the hero?

Chas Yes, I do. Yet your friend, the heroine,

pleases me better—her character approaches perfecfection.

Jane.— It does—but, like the ^hero and heroine, you and I must part for a time. 'Chas.—To meet again soon?

Jane.—Yes. [Exeunt.}


Enter Charles, James and Robert. Jas.—Well, Captain, how long have you been at sea?

Chas.—Twenty-five days and ten hours, reckoning from the time we left Liverpool. We have had easy weather.

Robt A sail to windward, Sir!

Chas.—Ho, shipmates ! all hands on deck—a privateer on our starboard bow—take in the studding sails, make all clear for action.

Robt.—All's ready, Sir.

Chas.—Bring my speaking trumpet—a-hoy! keep off or we'll sink you. Show your colours.

Robt.—Sir, she hoists English colours.

Chas.—Lower the boat and let us board her— away! [Exeunt.]

ACT third. Enter Jane and Robert. Jane.—Well! which of the moral poets do you most admire.

Robt.—Oh! Young, assuredly—there is a depth about his poetry that always interests me.

Jane.—His depth is beyond fathoming by ordinary readers—pray give me one of your favourite quotations.

Robt With pleasure.

—— Night, sable Goddess, on her ebon throne,
Now stretches forth her leaden sceptre o'er
A slumbering world.

Jane Beautiful! Another.


Celestial Friendship, whene'er she deigns to visit earth,
One shrine the Goddess finds, and one alone.

Jane.—More beautiful still! Go on.

Robt.—Nay, you are really about to put my talents to the proof—ask no more if you love me.

Jane.—Well, I am delighted—I hope the company are so too. [Exeunt omnesS\

I have thus performed my task, Mr. Editor, and recommend the Council of Ten to try their abilities, and unite in this pleasant recreation. I shall be happy to come over with one of my brothers, to your hotel, for the purpose of setting you all on the right road. The Peripatetic Philosopher, Baillie Pirnie, The Amateur, The Barker, and your distinguished member of the Gegg Club, assisted by my brother, will form an excellent corps dramatir/ue in the male department, while the Amateur's fair friends, Julia and her sister, and myself will undertake the female characters. I hope Auntie Pyet will not put this down as an offer, although I shall subscribe myself, your devoted admirer,



Among the many flattering compliments which we have received since the commencement of our literary labours, we have to acknowledge the following:—

Dear, Delightful, Dr. Day,—You are really a jewel of a man; and Mamma says that, if you are not a Doctor, you at least are a Bachelor of Arts—fascinating arts, I should suppose, for I know no others in which you excel. Now, you must not publish this letter, otherwise it would create too lively a sensation in a certain circle, and your correspondent would be marked down for a Blue Stocking, which is perfectly shocking to the prospects of one who is looking abroad for a partner through life and a comfortable settlement. Well, it is wonderful how I get on about myself, when I meant to speak exclusively about your dear little morning Bijou, and candidly to deliver my sentiments regarding its merits.

Of all things, I love liveliness, smartness and pungency. Sometimes you are brisk enough ; other times, you'll pardon me if I think you are insufferably dull. Why don't you get a few ladies enlisted in the ranks of your daily contributors? Why don't you give us hints of all the great " blows out" that are to be for the week, and a little more of female fashions—smart dissertations upon dancing, promenading, shopping, tea-table talk, and such like truly interesting and important subjects? Only do this, and your fortune is made. And then, for mercy's sake, let us know what like you are. Do, tell us if you are a pale, interesting, melancholy-looking man, having a Byron cast of countenance; or a bewitching, bewhiskered, military, dashing fellow, that is quite a prize to have as B partner in a waltz, quadrille, or gallopade. I am choking with impatience till I know whether I am to regard you as an interesting recluse, or as a man of fashion. If you value my friendship or countenance, don't let a day elapse before you make a confession upon all these points, and satisfy us giddy girls in a matter which so nearly concerns our hearts and happiness.

By the way, my dear Doctor, you can't conceive in what estimation you are held by all the ladies of Glasgow who pen verses; and I believe you are equally a favourite with the lords of the creation, as the men are pleased to style themselves, who have the same faculty. They tell me you are truly an amiable creature, and vastly liberal; and besides, that your taste and discrimination are so exquisite, that you never refuse one of their elegant trifles. Now, this presents so marked a contrast to the overbearing surliness of some of your contemporaries, who have no taste for the light and elegant effusions of a cultivated mind, that you have

gained golden opinions on all hands. Just go on in the same kindly vein of condescension. It is intolerable the insolence of some underbred, vulgar creatures, who set themselves up to be critics, and who, to my certain knowledge, have refused to publish some of the tenderest effusions and divinest productions that ever adorned the English language. I name no names, Dr., but the reptiles are well-known, and their sauciness has provoked the just indignation of every feeling and sensitive mind. Now, my dear Doctor, like an amiable creature, as you are, print, for general circulation, the inclosed copy of verses. I know you will think them very sweet and elegant. They are a thousand times better than any thing that Miss Landon has written; the reason is, they were written by myself.

Yours, with the dearest consideration, Amelia Wilhelmina Anna Maria Skeggs.

The Parting.

Oh ! is it thus we part,
And thus we say farewell,
As if in neither heart
Affection e'er did dwell?
And is it thus we sunder,
Without or sigh or tear;

As if it were a wonder, ,
We e'er held other dear?

We part upon the spot,
With cold and clouded brow;
Where first it was our lot
To breathe love's fondest vow.
The vow both then did tender,
Within this hallow'd shade;
That vow, we now surrender;
Heart bankrupts both are made!

Thy hand is cold as mine—

As lustreless thine eye;

Thy bosom gives no sign,

That it could ever sigh.

Well, Well! adieu's soon spoken—

'Tis but a parting phrase—

Yet, said, I fear heart-broken

We'll live our after days.

Thine eye no tear will shed—
Mine is as proudly dry;
But, many an aching head,
Is our's, before we die.
From pride, we both can borrow—
To part, we both may dare—
But, the heart-break of to-morrow,
Nor you nor I can bear!


Home, 19th January. The Pontifical Academy of Archaeology was opened here this day week, in the great hall of the Universita dell Saplenza. The ceremony began with an admirable discourse on the uses of Archaeology, as subordinate to human learning, both sacred and profane, delivered by N. M. Nicolai, the President of the Academy. He divided his discourse into two portions;—the first, tracing the history of the Roman Academy of Antiquities, which was set on foot by the celebrated Pomponio Leto, and inaugurated by Pope Benedict the Fourteenth, and bringing its progress down to modern times, when it was cemented by an annual endowment bestowed by the immortal Canova, and subsequently by the munificence of Popes Pius the Seventh and Leo the Twelfth, as well as the present Pontiff, who has provided suitable accommodation for its meetings and museum in the Archi-gymnasium of this city. In the second portion of his discourses he enlarged on the intimate connexion which subsists between sacred and profane learning, and the study of antiquities, as well as the arts of design. Some of the most distinguished personages in this capital were present; amongst others, Cardinal Giustiniani and Cardinal Zurla.

The Society of Virtuosi, held at the Pantheon, which was instituted during the pontificate of Paul the Third, have just elected Camuccini, (considered the best Roman painter of the present day,) as their president, and the Cav. Folchi, as vice-president. A new edition of their Statutes, to which is prefixed a plate from the graver of Fontana, one of the members of the society, was distributed on this occasion.—Alhenaum,


It is rumoured there are several very heavy beta, depending on whether or not the Cholera will extend to the south side of the river. It is a singular fact, that the disease when at Hamburgh, did not cross the Elbe. Harburg, and the whole Hanoverian side of the river, remained free from the pestilence.


History Philosophically Illustrated, from the Fall of the Roman Empire to the Revolution of France, by George Miller, D. D.( is about to be published.

A new edition, with several additional Engravings, by R. Cruikshank, of the Devil's Walk, is announced.


We take the following extract from the last number of a publication which has great claims upon the patronage of the public. The critical reader may perhaps detect some inaccuracies in the composition, as we have remarked that some of the papers seem to be written by a hand, more familiar with the easel than the pen. Those however, who seek for information and amusement, will find much in the Library of the Fine Arts to approve of, especially if they regard with favour all attempts to rescue unfortunate merit from the doom of oblivion.

An increase of employment and of connection enabled Paye to remove from his lodgings in Swallow Street to a house in Broad Street, Carnaby Market. At this time he became acquainted with Doctor Walcot, the celebrated satirist, who, under the name of Peter Pindar, scattered his shafts of ridicule and humour equally on the sovereign and the subject: and, as his satire made him formidable to most, his attention and good-will became a matter of importance to those whom he honoured with his notice. His introduction of Opie into the painting world may perhaps serve as some set-off for his other vices of temper and disposition.

In an evil hour, from an acquaintance and friend the Doctor became an inmate with Paye, and all at first went smoothly and pleasantly; the Doctor was pleased with being under the roof of an artist, whose pencil he imagined would be under his own controul, and whose subjects would emanate from his own choice and dictation. It was at this time (but whether recommended by the Doctor is not known) that Paye produced his " Sulky Boy;" a picture eminently calculated to strengthen the good opinion entertained of his talents, as well as to increase his future fame. In style and character this painting much resembled the works of Murillo. There is a print after this picture, engraved in mezzotint by J. Young, which, as a further illustration of Paye's talents, was purchased as from the work of Gainsborough, it being cut close to the engraving, so that nether name nor title could be seen. This painting of the " Sulky Boy" was purchased also by Archdeacon Potts, and presented by him (not unaptly) to the late Lord Thurlow. The boy who served as a model for the above painting was said to be a natural son of Doctor Walcot,—and which appears probable, as he was brought into the house by him, and to be at Paye's disposal as eirand-boy, or in any way in which he might be found useful.

This introduction proved in the end a source of contention; but it must be confessed the Doctor displayed great forbearance on many occasions, and submitted to much of what might be termed indirect abuse. The lad was loutish and stupid, and his blunders and his faults were detailed in no very measured terms to the Doctor, till at length silence and submission broke out in rancour and hostility; abuse followed expostulation on the part of the Doctor; and on that of the artist a graphic satire, in which Walcot was seen seated at his easel in the shape of a bear with the wig of the Doctor on his head, and such accessories as denoted his habits and employments P- sketches and scraps, called imitations of Wilson,—a pail of Thames mud, (with which the Doctor in his fits of economy would back his fire,) his violin, his odes and other incidental objects made up the composition. In the end Doctor Walcot and his protege quitted the house, and Paye was left to the full exercise of his fancy and the choice of his subjects; released from the trammels of a dictator, who sometimes told him he would paint himself into a gaol by finishing his pictures too much, at others would find fault with the choice of his subjects, which as he expressed himself, "required such a quantity of expression."

It has been observed that Paye's principal excellence lay in his management of chiaroscuro and the composition of his pictures. Latterly, his eye for colouring was not so good, and he fell into what may be termed a woolly manner and a careless kind of penciling. One cause of this might be his reserved and distant manner towards contemporary artists; for though some sacrifice might be required to their jealousies and jarring interests, yet the advantage would have been found had he more frequently seen and compared his own with the works of others.

Soon after his breach with Peter Pindar, as he was called, Paye removed to London Street, Fitzroy Square; and here his falling fortune began to appear, and the demons of poverty and neglect, whose checks and influence he had but partially felt, made more frequent and longer visits. Embarrassed in his circumstances, the wheels of his practice, or rather of employment, dragged heavily on; yet the love of Art sustained him through all; neither privations nor disappointment could check the ardour of his enthusiasm, nor could sickness in its most appalling shape quench the powers of genius.

A rheumatic fever was followed by a paralytic stroke, which affected his right side, and took away the use of his right hand. While labouring under this affection, he desired his implements to be brought, and being propped up in his bed, made an admirable design for a monument on the Death of Nelson. Recovered from his fever, but not to the use of his right hand, he was after some short practice able to paint with his left. He exhibited a portrait thus painted at the British Gallery; on which occasion he was kindly aided by the recommendation of the late Mr. Young, who had engraved after many of his pictures, and was then Keeper to the British Institution in Pall Mall. He was also greatly befriended from the Artists' Benevolent Fund, of which Mr. Young was oue of the principal and most zealous promoters.

It does not appear that Paye died in actual want, but certainly in obscurity, so much so that little was known of him after his leaving London Street; and, notwithstanding considerable inquiry, we have not been able to ascertain the date of his death. But the calamities and disappointments of genius are of such frequent occurrence, that, like storms or shipwrecks, they cease to be matters of surprise, or in any way to act as a warning to others.


Polish Heroines A number of Polish females, still clad in

their national uniform, passed through Frankfort lately, one of them bearing rank as a Lieutenant, who had been wounded on three occasions, attracted much attention. She looked on silently, but refused to sit down to the dinner given to the corps to which she belonged. The death of her son, who fell in his seventeenth year, fighting by her side, after she had herself been wounded, preyed incessantly upon her spirits. The most distinguished Pole that has yet made her appearance at Frankfort among us, has been the celebrated Countess Plater; and her Adjutanta, the fair companions of her less clouded days, are shortly expected to follow her.

The rapidity with which the great rivers of America are descended, produces a change of climate approaching to enchantment. A gentleman, who had been frozen up in the western country when engaged in the fur trade, weary of inaction, caused his canoe to be cut out of the ice, and getting into the Mississippi, within eight days from leaving his winter quarters, was pulling ripe cherries.—Fergusson.

I was struck with the superior character of the hackney horses to those of our cities, and I may add also of those in cars and waggons. They were all in excellent plight, and the latter, if not equal in size to those in English drays, infinitely surpassed them in action. The hackney-coach fares iu New York are high, and are moreover annoying to strangers, from the practice of paying for each passenger, when exceeding one, and also for luggage. —Ibid.


"Hours of Leisure.—No. III." will appear on Saturday.

"Albino's Lyrical Sketches," we fear, will not suit us. We shall return the author's beautiful specimen of calligraphy if he wishes it.

We are sorry that we are again under the necessity of postponing the " Memoirs of the Paisley Baillie," till the beginning of next week.

•„* In the title of our yesterday's impression, " Wednesday, March 1," was printed in some copies for " Thursday, March 1."

All communications for the Editor of " Pub Date" are requested to be left with the Publisher, Mr. John Fiklat, No. 9, Miller Street.


Morning. Eveninc.
h. m. h. m.

Friday, I 48 2 5

Saturday, 2 22 2 38

Published, every Morning, Sunday excepted, by John Fin Lay, at No. 9, Miller Street; and Sold by John Wylie, 97, Argyle Street; David Robertson, and W, R. M'phun, Glasgow; Thomas Stevenson, and the other Booksellers, Edinburgh: DaVid Dick, Bookseller, Paisley: A. Laino, Greenock; and J. Glass, Bookseller, Rothsay.


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