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We understand that a meeting of the proprietors of George's Square was held last Wednesday, to consider a proposal, made by some of our most respectable citizens, for forming a bowling green in the centre of the Square. Only two of the proprietors present supported the proposal. The expense that has lately been incurred, in adorning George's Square, made it improbable that the consent of the whole proprietors would be obtained, as no remuneration could be expected for it. In other circumstances, the liberal pecuniary offer that was made, as well Rs other advantages which we think would arise from it, would perhaps have entitled the proposal to a more favourable reception.

We have hitherto confined our remarks under this head to subjects connected with our own town, but we caution all and every of His Majesty's lieges to beware of provoking our displeasure, as they may be assured that distance of habitation will not be the thing to save them from the lash of censure as often as they deserve it. Our Spectacles have lately been walking the Streets of Edinburgh, and they have lately reported to us sundry accounts of the fashionable divinity, which is nightly celebrated by a certain sect, at the house of a certain gentleman. If we think it worth our while to expose the absurdity of these conventions, where Misses and Masters are in the habit of indulging iu sisterly marks of kindness, we shall be able to extract a good deal of satire from so fertile a subject. We understand that the Cholera panic has seized with such violence on our Athenian neighbours, that they are resorting in crowds to the use of air baths, for the purpose of purging their fears, and that regular depots have been established where this instrument may be borrowed for a sixpence a time. Is it true that the gas mania has become so fashionable as to Induce the authorities of the Scottish Metropolis to disfigure the splendid monument of our late Sovereign, by the gaudy tinsel of four brass lamps? Let the lamps be placed in the middle of each side of the pedestal, instead of at the corners, and then the for-mality of the thing will be less observable. Till then, we shall suppose that the Modern Athenians have been visited with an approach of the Boetian disease which they so liberally attribute to our Western Capital.

Since the appearance of our journal, the following query has been frequently put with a knowing look i—M What was yesterday and will be to-morrow." Do you give it up?—11 The Day."


The lovers of music, in the metropolis, seem all on the qui vive for the commencement of the opera season, as from the prospectus issued by Mr. Mnnck Mason, the new lessee, there is every hope entertained that the establishment will be conducted in a more liberal and spirited manner than it has been done fur years past. There have been two great defects in the opera management, which have beeu much felt—the first and the most important, the limited umber of the orchestra; the other, the vile and discreditable scenery. Last season the orchestra consisted altogether of only 48 performers, whereas that of the Academie Royale at Paris has 90, and that of San Carlo at Naples upwards of 100. It is understood that both defects will be remedied. With respect to the materiel, we find that Mr. Monck Mason, after traversing France, Italy and Germany, in search of variety for every branch of his establishment, has succeeded, far beyond his most sanguine expectations, in engaging many of the first artists ill Europe, both for the Opera and the Ballet. The following are the names of the performers with whom contracts have been made, all of them highly popular on the Continent, but the majority quite new in this country.

Before Easter.—Madame Ungher, (as our London Correspondent Intimates this lady is not to appear at the opening,) Soprano; Mademoiselle Battista, Contralto; Signor Winter, Tenor, first tenor at the Scala, at Milan; Signor Galli, Bass. For the Ballet:—Albert, Mademoiselle Leomte, Mademoiselle Ancelin.

AiTEft Easter Mademoiselle Tosi, the first declamatory

singer of the day, and Mademoiselle Crisi, prima donna at Venice, Saprana; Mademoiselle Mariaui, Cordralto, the first of the kind in the world; Signor Donzelli, Tenor; Signor Tamburini, Bass; Signor Mariaui, Bass. For the Ballet:—Mademoiselle Bagnoli, Mademoiselle Ebetie, Mademoiselle Tagltoni, M. Samingo, M. Gucrra, M. Coulon.

The Opera will open this month with L'Esule di Boma, the amtsic by Donizette, the author of the music to Anne Bullen.


The Rajah Rahohun Ror has an Essay in the Press " On the Rights of the Hindoos over Ancestral Property according to tha Law of Bengal, with an Appendix containing Letters on the Hindoo Law of Inheritance." We also understand that the same author is about to publish Remarks on East India Allans.

Captain H. Harks Ess, of the Madras Army, has announced for publication, " A Dissertation of a Singular Race of Aborigine*, inhabiting the summits of the Neilgherry Hills, or Blue Mountains of Coimbatoor."

"Records of a Good Man's Life," by the Rev. C B. Tat. Lor, M. A. Author of " May You Like It," will speedily be published in 2 vols. 6vo.

The "Aurora Borealis," a new Literary Annua), to be conducted by members of the Society of Friends, is announced to appear at Newcastle.

Dr. James Browne, of Edinburgh, has a Work in the press upon the Highlands and Clans of Scotland. Much new and valuable information, as well as much amusement, is anticipated from this volume.

The " Hive," a collection of the best Modern Poems, chiefly by living authors, for the use of young persons, is soon to appear.


In Germany, at the present moment, there are several Journal* wholly devoted to the communication of news respecting church affairs and religion. At the head of these in date as well as merit stands the " Universal Church Gazette," published at Darmstadt by Dr. Zimmerman, a Protestant clergyman. The journal was begun in 1822, and found many imitators. Many catholic journals appeared in succession. The " Universal Friend of Religion and of the Church," published at Wurzburg, and the " Cathulic Ecclesiastical Gazette," published at Aschatfeuburg, fights stoutly for the antiquity and purity of the old faith. The 11 Ecclesiastical Gazette for Cutholic Germany" and the "Constitutional Ecclesiastical Gazette," published iti Bavaria, defend the Romish faith on moderate principles. If the ultra Catholics have advocates, so have the idtra Protestants. The great organ of the ultra rationalist party is the "Evangelical Ecclesiastical Gazette," edited by Dr. Ilerstenburg. The most impartial views as to the proceedings of all the religious parties in Germany may however be gained from Dr. Zimmerman's Journal.

A History of Poland in Italian is announced to appear at Florence by Dr. Bernard Zaydler, a native Pole.

The prolific pen of Prince Shakowsky, the author of Aristophanes and numerous other dramatic pieces, has dramatised the story of Zagoshine's Yuri Miloslaoshy, which has been performed, with much success, both at St. Petersburg!] and Moscow.

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It is scarcely necessary to remark, that the mixed constitution of this country has been a stumbling-block in the way of all philosophical politicians, foreign and domestic. It has a resemblance to every form of government which the ingenuity of man has hitherto been able to frame; and yet it has a positive fraternity with none. It is neither purely democratical nor monarchical. It is not a dominion of kings, lords, commons, or priests, exclusively. It does not strictly resemble the turbulent republics of the old, nor the more feeble republics of the modern world; and has as little essential likeness to the despotic monarchies of either. It cannot be compared to the Constitutions of Greece or of Rome, before or after the establishment of the Empire; and it is equally remote from all approximation to the lesser republics of Venice, Genoa, and Holland, or even of modern America. Whence it comes, no man knows; and whither it goes, no man, however wise, can tell. The free spirit of ancient Germany circulates through all its parts, as the great vivifying principle; but the sagacity of a seer could not devise how so large a portion of this powerful influence came to be infused into its veins, while the rest of the European world gradually declined, from its high and palmy state, into vassalage and decrepitude. It defied theory to adjust the claims of its different elements to supremacy, and laughed to scorn all attempts to circumscribe its demands to respect on the score of practical usefulness. Imperfections it has in abundance; and what human fabric has not? But, with all its sins upon its head, it is a thing not to be tampered with, and on no account to be despised. Sciolists may rail against it, and the enemies of Britannia's glory may sneer at its theoretical defects; but it cares for neither. As a whole, it has done what no other Constitution ever did for any other country, for an equal period of time. It has secured peace at home, ana respect abroad ; and yet, like every invention of man, it is undergoing changes now, which, in all probability, are only the preludes to greater changes hereafter. Of the nature and tendency of those we stop not to inquire; believing, as we do, that it carries within itself a principle of adjustment which will set every thing to rights by-and-bye. But we desire, for the present, to examine the effects of some very important alterations which have insensibly crept into it, and which have already effected a very considerable change in its general aspect.

One of the necessary consequences of freedom of speech is freedom of debate; and an inevitable consequence of freedom of debate is opposition. Unanimity is rarely found among individuals, and never among aggregated bodies. If there be a parliament, therefore, (which simply means a place where men may speak out,) whether it be known by that, or by any other equally significant name, there will be difference of opinion; and, as all human government is founded on opinion, there will be, of necessity, a division of the legislators into those who approve, aud those who disapprove—hence the origin of state parties. It has not always happened that the cause of this discrepancy has been very dignified. An ancient empire was sacri

feed, ere it could be decided which was the most becoming of two different liveries at a horse-race—a single letter of the alphabet bred a schism in the primitive churches, which never had a termination—and our own country was deluged by blood, because certain men in power preferred white linen to black cloth, and a surplice and book to an ordinary-fashioned coat and no book. Thirty years ago, a man with it cropped head was deemed a rebel; and, in Charles the Second's time, it was an especial mark of loyalty to swear, drink, and play the buffoon. Men, however, are getting wiser; and parties, as such, are falling into disrepute. What is the reason of this?

Let us premise, in the first place, that no such absolute freedom of speech and action was known either to modern or ancient times, as that which obtains in this country, and which began to unfold itself at the period when parties properly commenced, namely, during the reign of Charles the First; and in no other country, for many years after, was the unlicensed practice adopted. The institution of parties, therefore, is a strictly British device in legislation, and, so incomprehensible has it seemed in the eyes of foreigners, that it has never been fully imitated anywhere. We are accustomed to the practice, and think little of it; but to strangers it does appear an anomaly in government, and until lately it was deemed a dangerous one. At first sight, it would appear that wherever there was a fixed Constitution, there could be no occasion for processed debaters, whose existence must, in some measure, be considered alien to that Constitution, and positively unknown to it; but, if any one will reflect on tin matter, he will see that this order of persons was created by the times, and was called into being by a necessity which we should not forget—the necessity of establishing what the Constitution really was, or should be. The caprices of human passion, aud the mutabilities of human taste, cannot alter the great and immoveable pillars of human rights, collectively considered; and it is impossible to conceive the origin of any class of men in a state to be higher, than that which is founded on the good work of settling a nation's privileges on the principles of equity and justice. This accomplished, however, we would not so easily discover the way in which a division into parties became necessary for the future, did we not recollect, that in a mixed government, the demands on the attention of the senate must be diversified. On all questions of domestic and foreign policy, difference of opinion is allowable; and out of this difference, combined with other powerful and influential causes, has grown the fixed principle in British legislation, that the general liberties of the people are protected by a well-regulated opposition. But, though this be true, no doubt can exist that it has been the source of infinite abuse. Corruption was one of its earliest fruits, and a distrust in the honesty of public men has been one of its worst and most lasting consequences. We have no right, then, to assume, that the existence of state parties in this country has been an unmixed good; and we have little less right to deplore their downfall—if they really be about to be extinguished—as the national calamity. We know of no party to whose professions, when out of power, implicit confidence should be given, since it has never yet happened that these professions were in accordance with their acts when in power. Some leading principles there may be, by which one body of men may choose to distinguish themselves from another; but they are generally speculative, and often worthless, because impracticable. A man who is responsible for nothing but his words, may resist an eloquent harangue on the beauty of virtue, and the deformity of vice; but he only is virtuous and wise, who feels that his principles of action are independent of the seductions of oratory, and are amenable to reason alone.

Of late years there has really been no great leading mark, by which the one party in the parliament was distinguished from the other, if the question of reform be excepted. The constitutional ground of difference died out, when time put an end to the disputed succession; and since that period, the chief distinction has been, that one class of men have been in place, and the other out of it. Attempts, no doubt have been made to introduce new and untried principles, in trade, and general policy, but these have not been the doings of any distinct party. They are rather the partial effects of partial coalitions among different parties, and cannot justly be considered as the acts of any individual one. In despite of all this, however, men—and sensible men too—talk of party, as if there were something talismanic in the word itself, though it be but the echo of a departed sound. Some allowance may be made for those who have always breathed in the turbid atmosphere of party politics, for perpetuating this folly. Since it is not very easy to disabuse oneself of early and strong impressions; but little can be said for the wisdom of those, who have neither hereditary, nor educational claims, to a participation in the prevailing delusion. If men would only remember, that perfection is unattainable, and that the spirit of the constitution is adverse to the pretensions of any faction, moderation might be looked for; and the stream of social life be undisturbed by the passing storm. But this is a consummation which we dare not anticipate.

Having thus rapidly glanced at the origin and state of parties, we may attempt to ascertain, how the abolition of this kind of legislative counterpoise will affect the general welfare.

Our own opinion is, that it will operate beneficially. For many years the whole thing has been a fiction, and this men now begin to see. An obstinate adherence to any party rules can only beget intolerance and political bigotry. The sooner, therefore, it is abandoned the better, since nothing good can ever result from fanaticism of any kind. We may, also, hope that the characters of public men will be judged by their actions, not by their words, and that the depositaries of a nation's happiness will in future be more sparing of speech, and more liberal of work. If much cannot be accomplished, let not much be promised, and, above all, let the odious practice of mystification be abolished, which has long rendered the language of statesmen a tongue of many meanings, which, like the effaced words of an ancient palampsest, may be interpreted in a thousand ways, according to the fancy of the commentator.

The effects of party spirit in social life, will be considered in a future Number.



Simple.—Well met, gossips, a fireside is tr friend's side, in a night like this.

SnceralL—Which I suppose accounts for your placing yourself between us and its favours, what shall we order? Tincle.—Oysters, by all means.

S/ieerall.—With all my heart, I dearly love to eat oysters with an orator, for, as the baby-rhime says, (singsJ

A talker so wild, and a listener so mild,

Sat down to their oysters and twist,
The first talked so well of tin- streaks in the shell.

That the fish were all eat ere he wist.

Tincle.—I mean to talk for two and take for two.

SnceralL—I hope you mean then to pay for four.

Tincle I'll pay for your supper if you'll let me order it?

Sneerall.—What supper would you order me?

Tack. — A glass of water and a toothpick, the fittest for such a foulmouthed critic—ha, ha, ha!

Sneerall.—My dear Tincle, your wit must indeed be true, for I perceive it always gives you the laugh on your own side. Your spear is both bright and sharp, but you generally port it by the wrong end, pushing not the point but the butt against your butt, to the manifest endangering of your own most portly and protuberant corporation.

Tincle.—Nay, nay, my dear fellow, in a very few words let me explain.

Sneerall.—Oh, for heaven's sake, no, let's have the fish first, don't be sulky, you know you can prove yourself the very quintessence of wits, while we discuss, what I think the quintessence offish. (Enter Waiter with supper, tipple, tobacco, j-c.) How now, Simple, what's the matter man, why are you gazing in the fire, and gaping like a cod in a creel broiling under a Jaly tun— are you calculating your probable gain by that very advantageous sale, to a retail tobacconist, of the copyright and copies of your dear defunct (alas, so early dead), dramatic attempt. Simple. I praythee as thou lovest me friend, forbear

That dismal theme, which strikes my galled ear—
As keen, as doth the callous coachman's cord,
The recent raw his cruelty has caused,
On hide of hack, hacked by's inhuman hand.
Tincle.—Bravo, Bob—what, is our friend dramatic?
Sneerall.—Aye, dramatic—epic—lyrical—and fugitive.
Simple.. —From his duns at least.

Sneerall. — He's an orator, you know, so entitled to write tragedies after the manner of Shiel and Sheridan. Simple.—Did Sherry write Tragedies?

Sneerall.—Falkland is a sort of one, and so deserved d n, that it has almost dragged down with it the noble Comedy, (the Rivals,) in which it is so awkwardly introduced.

Tincle.—Was this simple fellow's a Tragedy.

Sneerall.—A Tragedy to him and an opiate to me—I did hear some good words in the fourth Act, (for I happened to wake about that time,) but they were SO oddly arranged, I could make no meaning out of them, however I believe the heroine went mad about that time, which accounts for it.

Tincle Well, was his Tragedy d d.

Simple.—Alas, it never arrived at that distinction.

Sneerall.—It was a " birth-strangled babe,." D d, as the

Hibernian hath it, ere ever it was heard of; it gasped itself into a paid notice from a trumpery newspaper or two, which proved the speediest road to a quiet oblivion—but, Simple, Simple, quiet, I see Tincle is threatening at least a three hours' essay on Dramatic Literature, to which Scblegel's 2 vols, were a triple. Stave him off with a stave—set him asleep with a song.

Simple.—What shall I sing?

SnceralL—A chanson a boire, a drinking ditty to be sure.

(Simple sings)

In the juice of the vine.

There's the soul of all the wine. Who lived in Parnassus' top story:

Had that blue stocking crew

Kept the Rosy God in view,
Twould have helped them much sooner to glory:

For, could Helicon's streams, ever give such bright dreams t
As we have with our wine-
Chorus, gentlemen (AllJ

For, could Helicon's streams, ever give such bright dreams.
As we have with our wine?

I hold every man,

Who drinks off'his can,
Aye, and drinks it again'*, the fine fellow:

His praises I'll write,

And for him I will fiaht.
He's my friend ; he, with whom I got mellow—

And u there a fair one, with whom you compare none,

Dont you toast her with your wine.


And is there a fair one, with whom you compare none.

Don't you toast her with your wine?

Tincle.—Is that song yours, Simple?

Simple—It is; I wrote it last night over a tankard of twopenny.

Tina.-- Then what made you introduce wine?

Simple.—For the sake of the rhyme. Porter will not go with poetry. Ale, I could find no rhyme for, but "fail" or "stale." and as for whisky its only rhyme —" frisky," is quite unworthy of the dignified deportment, which should ever distinguish our debauching. Besides, Burns is the only one who could write readable poetry on the blood of " Inspiring old John Barleycorn."

SnceralLApropos of Burns, were you at the dinner given here about a month ago, in honour of his son, Captain Burns?

Simple.—I was not, but Tincle was, and made a speech too, I am told.

Tincle I did indeed, Sir, deliver myself with pride and pleasure, upon a subject, which, as I said to the Chairman—

Simple.—Oh, we'll take the toast if you please, and spare you the sentiments which justified it.

Tincle.Aside—Puppy. Aloud.—The toast, Sir, was "the spirit which makes the simple wise." Ha, ha, ba,

Sneerall.—A better bit this time—then it was not you who toasted Quarterly Lockhart, as the man of the Aristocracy, who condescended to write the biography of the Peasant Burns?

Simple.—Was such a toast really given, and before the son of Burns too?

Sneerall.—Not exactly in so many words, but its meaning was unquestionably such.

Simple.—Who was the dire perpetrator of such enormity?

Tincle.—Come, come, Gentlemen, no reporters were there, so we must name no names, indeed I remember it was my own suggestion, for, on rising, before I proceeded to the main topic on which I intended to dilate, I begged to be allowed—

Sneerall.(Aside. J Aye, we were doomed to hear how at least one goose cackled.

(Enter Waiter.] Waiter.—A naval gentleman, Sir, desires to see Mr. Simple, Simple.—Shew him up. Tincle.—What, to our private Symposium. Simple.—I have my reasons.

Sneerall.—I'll be sworn they refer to the reckoning—who is he, Weatherall?

Simple—The same.

Sneerall.—Poor Jack, he's been thirty years a Lieutenant, thanks to the Government that used to give frigates as the prizes for a fair attendance at the University.

Tincle.—How may that be, is he not a relative of my illustrious friend Sir Charles—the Horatius Cocles of the conservatives, who stoutly, and often singly, disputes every inch of the bridge over which

Sneerall.—What bridge—the bridge of sighs from which flagitious statesmen were flung—eh, Tincle!

Tincle.—I will not be interrupted, I demand to be heard, my Lords, I mean gentlemen. I say he ever stands undaunted against the fiercest efforts of a Radical mob.

Sneerall.—Oh! was that when he slip't away in an hostler's jacket, and left his supporters to the tender mercies of the Bristol ragamuffins?

Tincle.—Gentlemen, this is most improper conduct—if you abridge the liberty of speech, then "fie upon your laws" I say, and I will ever maintain that he is —

(Enter Lieutenant Weatherall, singing.]

An old bum-boat randy,

At scolding right handv,
lay along side us, laden with slops;

Says Captain O'Curser

To Pare'em, his purser.
Duck the Jade, Jack, if longer she stops

Aye, my hearties, still at your old tricks, smoking and soaking, my service to ye j may ye never want a wind nor a wind-pipe to whistle for't—here, waiter, a couple of tumblers, for I have much leeway and little time.

Sneerall.—Here's t'ye, Weatherall, my gay fellow, may you live in commission, command in action, and die in victory.

Weatherall.—Ay, you know the way to a sailor's heart, you've a sailor's soul yourself.

Tincle (aside.)—Pity it has so unshapely a case, then—(aloud) Captain, don't you think I would make a capital sailor.

Weatherall.—You !—Why the rigging ropes are but three ply. (singsJ

An old Admiral once, so fet, jolly, and large,

Used the capstan, to crane him on board from his barge—

One day the rope broke—as he fell in the main,

He bawled out, " I'll ne'er trust to three ply again."

Sneerall.—By my faith, Tincle, he has the weather gage of you; now, don't be sulky—ask him after your great bell-wether, Sir Charles. Hark'ec, Jack, is he sib to you ?

Weatherall.—What! the fellow that chatters like a whole roost of Senegal apes, when a Nigger comes near them, that won't take spell and spell about as others do—that sets himself up

(d n his consummate impudence) to run foul of a plan which

the King, they say, has, of setting all to rights—no, no, I'd be keel-hauled before I'd own him.

Tincle This shews the highly improper use which has been

made of the King's name. I thought he had been your cousin.

Weatherall.—He's neither kinsman nor namesake o' mine; I put the "A" to my name.

Sneerall.—It would please a good many were he, too, to put the "Ave" to his name. By the bye, have you read Blackwood's Magazine for January, 1832.

Simple.—I have; average—three good stories, though two on the self same subject—a night-mare after a heavy supper—the third, poor as a tale, but well told—the politics, as usual; what a pity the clever fellow who writes them (the best on that side) does* not know when to stop, but must needs ring over and over again without any changes.

Sneerall.—What I most admire is the exquisite taste, modesty, and disinterestedness, displayed in Christopher North's enthusiastic eulogium of Professor Wilson's speech.

Tincle Wherefore not, gentlemen; has not Majesty's self

been delighted and edified by it; has not our gracious King William the Fourth perused it—been enchanted by its matchless eloquence; and is there not, therefore, now every prospect, that, "revolving in his altered mind the various tricks of wild reform," he may yet change his dire intents, and dismiss those evil counsellors who have brought us to so dismal a pass.


Weatherall.—Avast heaving there—that craft wont carry— that cable wont hold; thof I doesn't know much" about this reform, as you call it, (bowsomedever, it would be no bad law, that would give the command of the prize to the jolly fellow that first hands down the foreign flag, instead of always giving it to some milk and water jaek-a-dandy bastard of a Parliament man.) Yet mayhap, for all that, I know our true-blue sailor king, or, what comes to the same thing, a messmate o' mine sailed with him in many a cruize, and wasn't the fine fellow mast-headed, every now and then, for all manner of middy's mischief; and might not ha' been Ycased again and again, becaze as how, he was no true middy after all, but only a Prince, and didn't he scorn to be a Prince—but e'en took what was going with his messmates —and will you go for to tell me, that now he's a king, he'll put about ship, at the slack-jaw palavering of a lubberly landsman, who, mayhap, knows no more of a ship than the state cabin, and the puking basin; no, no, if he has run his ship into action, the colours are nailed to the mast, and ship, crew, and cargo may all go to Davy's Locker afore he'll sheer off; he'll fight to the last plank—bless his honest heart—and if he should fall as his friend Nelson did, I know one that won't be alive to make a moan for him—so here's to his health, messmates, and success to all his undertakings, good, bad, and indifferent—he need never be ashamed of any of 'em—and he who wont stand to the pledge, may he walk the plank in a murky night, and be sharks-bait before morning—that's all.

Tincle.—His Majesty—(drinks off his tumbler, being the 6th. J Sneerall.—Reform bill—(drinks off his tumbler, being the 3d. J

Simple The King—(drinks off his tumbler, being the ith.J

Weatherall.—Join me messmates.

Now, long life and glory,
A high place in story,
Fame put none before thee,

Thou King of our Love—
May ne'er enemies quail thee,
Nor energies fail thee,
Till angels all hail thee,

Safe moored up above.

Tincle Gentlemen, our Symposium is ended, we cannot now

start a higher subject.

Sneerall.—Nor a better—

Simple, —Nor a more endearing—(Waiter, the Hill.J Weatherall.—Avast, that's my business, a friend never drinks

with me at his own expense, as long as my'prize money lasts, for

as the song says, (sings,)

When Jack's in port,
To all Ilia sport.
He treats his land-lubberly countrymen—
But Jack, at sea,

When he takes a spree, i
Makes the Frenchmen settle the reckoning then.

Simple(Aside to Sneerall.) I made that song last night, and palmed it on him as a Dibdin.

Sneerall.—I knew you had some exquisitely honest reasons for wishing his presence about reckoning time.

Weatherall.—Bear a hand my hearties, haul tight and belay, or you'll be too late for the watch-house, which, I take it, is usually your " Port after a Storm." [Jblxeunt omnes."]


STANZAS TO A LADY. Who marks the smile which plays upon thy face—

Like moonbeam stealing o'er the listening sea— The modest mein, the unaffected grace,

The angel-look of piety—
And feels not in his bounding breast,

Enkindl'd there, a sacred fire,
May sigh, to think his soul's confess'd

That heaven is not his heart's desire.
I would not ask for Titian's glow,

His Maddelena's pensive tear— I'd gaze not on the chisel'd snow

Of virgin beauty—wert thou near; For in thy downcast azure eye

A hallow'd beam of light is given, Which points the pathway to the sky,

Which tells that innocence is heaven.

EPIGRAM ON AN HONEST LAWYER. "Cheat," " Cheat," cries Lawyer Loopy to his Cat— "By Ja s, there's a pair of you," cries Pat!


Love—No one person in a thousand is capable of a real passion —that intense and overwhelming feeling, before which all others sink into nothingness. It asks for head and heart—now, many are deficient in both. idleness and vanity cause, in nine cases out of ten, that state of excitement which is called being in love. I have heard some even talk of their disappointments, as if such a word could be used in the plural. To be crossed in love, forsooth— why, such a heart could bear as many crosses as a raspberry tart. —Miss London's Romance and Reality.


A Sthamsb report has come to our ears, that upwards of 80 persons, connected with toe Tontine Coffee-room, had actually signed a petition to the proprietors, beseeching them to banish all the Tory Journals from the tables. If this be the case, it speaks but little for the march of liberty in the East. Such individuals should remember, that, by so acting, they virtually declare themselves the enemies of a Free Press—the abettors of factions—not the honest inquirers after truth. To what a terrific species of tyranny—even the tyranny of mental slavery—would we be subjected, if the views and doctrines of only one set of politicians, philosophers, or divines, were permitted to pass current! This would, indeed, be a censorship worse than that which the weak and despotic ex-King of the French attempted to establish. What! Men to cry about freedom, and yet openly set themselves forward as the determined foes of free discussion! Shame, shame on such short-sighted politicians.

Among the many modes resorted to by the philanthropist, there is, perhaps, none that occasionally proves more successful than a Ladies' Charitable Bazaar. Glasgow has been much famed for these, and large sums have been hence procured for the poor and indigent. There has been some gossipping in certain circles about getting one up, to aid the many miserable wretches who are at present in want of blankets and clothing, and who are thereby most liable to the attacks of that cruel malady which now rages at Gateshead. The fair damsels of Perth hare been before hand with us in this work of beneficence. It appears they have had a Bazaar which netted nearly four hundred pounds. As another mode of raising money, for the same beneficent purposes, the Officers of the 71st infantry condescended to assume, in that city, for one night, the Sock and Buskin, and, what is rather singular, produced exactly seventy-one pounds.

The good folks of St. Vincent-street were, t'other day, all put on the qui vive by the appearance of an American slcitjh. The snow, however, was neither sufficiently deep nor sufficiently firm to exhibit the utility of this winter conveyance.


The death of Provost Aird occurred about fourteen years after the erection of the Ram's Horn Church, which was built under his dictatorship. The Provost, with his brethren of the Council, were wont to assemble at the house of Neps Denny, at the head of Saltmarket, who kept one of the most comfortable hostelries which Glasgow could at that time boast of. At one of the meetings, shortly after the good man's decease, it was proposed that an epitaph should be composed by one of the members of the Club; but, whether it was, that the magistrates of those days were less poetical than their successors, or that this is an office not easily assimilated to the ordinary duties of a civic function, it was found that the assistance of the buxom landlady was necessary. Perfectly familiar with her subject, and under no fears of severe criticism, Nans produced the following lines :—

Here lies Provost Aird,
He was neither a great merchant nor a great laird;

At higging o' kirks he had richt gude skill;
He was twice Lord Provost, and three times Dean o' Gil'.

Some forty years ago, when our good city began seriously to struggle with the world, and to amass the fortune she has since got, one of our burgesses, a person of some eminence in the Incorpoiatiou of Weavers, found it necessary to visit the city of London. Proud of the eminence he had attained among his fellowcitizens, and, like many others, who find wealth llowiug on them faster than they could have ever anticipated, was not a lecture given to boasting. At the Blue and White, or some such club of citizens, he had cracked rather crousely of his London jaunt, and, among other things, had given his compeers to understand, that, as he intended to call upon His Majesty when he got to London, he would be no doubt asked to spend the day with him, and take his dinner. On returning from the metropolis, he was often heard enlarging at the club, on the wonders he had seen; but it was observed that he kept profound silence on his visit to the King. Finding that he made no allusion of what he had previously boasted so much, one of the club one night said, " But, my dear Sir, you have never yet told us, whether you saw the King, and if so, whether be asked you to dinner." The boasting manufacturer looked a little queer, but at last said, " Why, I saw His Majesty, and he said he was vera sorry he could na ask me to my dinner that day, for the Queen was thrang wi' a washing."


A New Monthly Magazine, to be conducted on liberal and independent principles, is announced to appear in Edinburgh on the first of March. It is to be brought out under the auspices of Mr. William Tait, whose experience and enterprise as a publisher are well known. It is also said, that an Editor, who has already given proofs of a vigorous and versatile genius, has been secured.



It is an extraordinary fact that the Annual Gold Medal, offered by the Royal Academy, for the Best Specimen in this department of Art, is this year still in rettntis. No Individual, among the many who are at this moment employed in the surveillance of the mighty wings that are now adding to oar modern Babylon, have thought it worth their while to enter the list for the golden prize. The fate of poor Gandy, being still only an Associate of the Academy, because he is poor, can alone account for genius deserting this course. This wonderful genius in his art may well say of the Academy, what Oliver Goldsmith said of his muse, 11 She found ate poor and kept me go." Of all the branches of the Liberal Arts, there is not one which ought to be more sedulously caressed and patronized than the one by which Palladio and Sausovino have made themselves immortal, for it is the only one which strikingly combines beauty, taste and utility. In England, considering the enormous amounts that are yearly expended on building, how few edifices are there to the finger of a pure and classical taste can point! In notwithstanding its splendid materials, there was, till lat to claim the praise of the cognoscenti in architecture, and in this city, abounding as it does with so many public buildings and princely mansions, how few are there, after all, among them that can be held up as worthy of imitation! This is a subject of great importance, and it is one to which we mean very soon to direct our attention.


Several Communications relative to the Jamaica Street Bridge, have been received, and will be duly submitted to the consideration of the " Board."

"Confessions or A Bureeii, No. 2," will appear in the course of the week.

"Lines on the Death of an Orphan" will perhaps have a place when our Poet's Corner is relieved from more urgent claims.

The Paper " On SnaaEr's Case" is not lost sight of. It will appear so soon as an answer is returned to the petition that was sent to London. We regret its delay, but justice must have its fair course.

The letter of an "O in night" lies with our Publisher, and may be had by application to him. The best thing we can wish the writer, who seems to be mistitfed by the weight of his philosophy, is, that he may soon find an O in light.

I.Arcs Regatta, No. 2, will appear on Wednesday.

Several Literary Notices are in type. Among these are one on "Banim's C'haunt of the Cholera," and another on " M'Nlsh's Anatomy of Drunkenness." We trust to find room for these in the course of a day or two.

* ,* In order to insure this Publication being on the Breakfast Table every morning, it is requested that intending Subscribers will leave their names and addresses at the Publisher's.


Morning. Evening.

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