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bear upon the grand concernments of social life. Wherefore I can easily find an apology for now and then saying a good word for myself when I deserve it, and my want enemy, If I hare an enemy at all in this world, I am sure will neither, afore my face nor ahint my back, daur to say, or insinuate, that I ever took raair credit than I was fully enteetlit to tak for honest deeds done and performed, without fee or reward, as we Baillies say when we purge witnesses at a proof, and put them upon their great aith, whilk is a very solemn proceeding, and has a grand effeck in a court of justice.
But, to continue the thread of my argument, I am obligated further to remark, that naebody, man, woman, or wean, can say, or allege, that I ever socht, in the lang course of my useful and busy life, to rooze mysell and my actions at the expense of my neibours. Backbiters and sicklike garbage of humanity, I hold in great detestation. They think, puir born fules that they are, that, by pulling anitber doun, they will rise tbemsells. They may be as llldeedy as a twa hornit deel, and yet, after all, they are but sumphs and gomerils. A backbiter or cat witted creature, that spends his time in picking out and railing against the faults and frailties of others, may jalouse that, by spitting upon their character, he is blgging up two bonny bield of goodly thochts for himself in the minds of his hearers, but he is out of his reckoning as far as ever Captain Parry was when he thocht to tumble the wulcat at the North Pole. They will, no doubt, hear the body till an end, and some, nay I may say a good wbeen, will relish his sklander, (for, after all, man's heart is desperately wicket and naturally a gayen black ill-faured concern, when it's no thoroughly purified thro1 the soul-searching influence of religion and godly conversation,) but nevertheless, and notwithstanding, "they never can, nor will like the sklaunderer. He'll aye be suspeckct and keepit at arms-length. Sweet Is the treason, but foul is the traitor. The backbiter is like a leper, he has aye a clapper to warn others of his infection, and that is, his ain ill scrapit and venomous tongue. Now,' we have just put down this bit caveat for the good of the Ettercaps, that will be clishmaclnvering and shooting out their tongue and winking with their ae e'e and scartin their nebs with their forefinger as if it youkit, and thrawin' their mouths as if they were gaun to tak1 a dose of salts, when they behold that I have turned author in earnest, and in the course of the narrative of my moral campaign may have occasion to say, this I said, and this I did, and so it even fell out as I said it would do, and as every individual of sense must have foreseen, had he been similarly situated and enjoyed the same opportunities as me Mr. Peter Pirnie, Baillie and what not, had of judging correctly of the incomings and outgoings and ongoings of men and things in general, and particular, in public and private life. But one must lay his account with receiving very indifferent treatment at the hands of the unthinking and the malicious, and learn to put up with much injurious misconstruction, especially if like me or a Minister of State, he has had great public duties entrusted to his care and guidance. When I was In the Magistracy at a very troublous time, I was sair fashit with the dounricht lies that were told against me, but I had just to put a stout heart to a stey brae, and do my duty, in spite of man or dee.vil. Hech, Sirs, what an awsum weight of duty and dignity is sometimes laid upon the head and shouthers of ane efficient Magistrate in perilous times! But on this point I have it word or twa to say when in due course of time and of nature I was eleckit a Baillie, and took'upon me the discharge of the duties thereunto effelring, as the Town Clerk said when he clapt a cocked hat for the first time on my held pow, and, shaking me by the neive, added, that I was the fountain of all j ustice and a ruler in the land, which was naethlng mair than a simple condescendence of facks.
THE DAY Vice THE EDINBURGH LITERARY JOURNAL.
We have lately received some very flattering letters from different quarters, complimenting us upon the success of our paper. These, of course, have been extremely grateful to our feelings, but a circumstance, which has tended more than anything else to encourage us in our undertaking, is the ruin which our appearance has
occasioned to a number of competitors. If anything could make us vain of our success, it would be that, while our daily paper of literature, fashion and fine arts, has already obtained, and is constantly extending a circulation which our fondest hopes could not have anticipated, our weekly contemporary, which occupies the same department in the Scottish capital, is obliged to retire from the walk which we are pursuing, and to attach itself, for security, to a Folitical Newspaper. The Edinburgh Literary Journal was formerly the Scottish prototype of the London Literary Gazette, but it has now announced, that, from inability to prolong its existence in a separate state, it is henceforth to be incorporated with " The Edin burgh Weekly Chronicle." Whether this failure is to be Attributed to the respectable subscription list, which our paper has obtained both in Edinburgh and Glasgow, or whether it has arisen from the circumstance, of our pages opening a more convenient receptacle for the talents of writers in this part of the country, who constituted no insignificant support of our quondam rival; It is at least certain, that The " Day" has now the merit of sustaining alone, the character of the Northern Periodical Press in its particular line, and is able to entitle itself, not merely the only daily paper, but the only purely Literary Journal in Scotland.
This is a proud distinction for a paper which has been little more than a fortnight before the public, but it is only one among many proofs which we have received, that the public are looking with an indulgent eye upon our efforts to contribute to their amusement. It is a remarkable fact, that since our labours commenced, no less than three Periodicals in this town have struck their colours. The Literary Cabinet has been smothered beneath our competition; The Thistle, through terror of our censure, has ceased to innoculate the public with its scurilities, and The Germ has not ventured to push a second number into comparison with any of ours. Besides these, there are no doubt a few publications, of different sorts, which still offer themselves as literary treats to unsuspecting purchasers among our townsmen; but these, as a correspondent remarks, contain in general nothing original except the day of the month, and the notices to correspondents; and we cannot in justice, either to ourselves or to them, regard them 05 rivals in our department.
We have uot mentioned other organs of criticism and the beVn lettrei, which claim the support of the public in a higher line, not only because we are unwilling to place them in connection with the paltry productions to which we have just attended, but because we do not conceive that our circulation, will in the least interfere with theirs. Magazines and Monthly Reviews, we honestly confess, are above our mark, and the only paper which claims to be called a Scottish Literary Gazette, viz.—The Edinburgh Evening Post, though marked by great ability, only pretends to justify its cognomen in the department of criticism. In fact, The " Day" is now the only supplement of general literature which either Edinburgh or Glasgow can boast of, and as it has been by its own endeavours that it has acquired this title, so it will be in future conducted with such activity and care, as it is hoped, will render it deserving of the favour which it has experienced. Its criticisms will be only exercised on such books as merit the marked approbation or disapprobation of impartial readers, and they will be conducted as heretofore, without serving the interest of any advertisement, or the party of any publisher. It will keep up its character for originality, by preserving the labours of gentlemen, already known to the world in the capacity of authors, aud it will secure a channel that can be depeuded on, for receiving intelligence from the Principal Seats of Scottish Literature. With these recommendations, The " Day" only requests of the public a continuance of their past favours, and it assures them, that these will be sufficient to make it suit its exertions to the higher station, which by their indulgence, it has come to occupy.
Meyerbeer's Orr.EA, 'Robert le Diablc,' the scramble for which ended in favour of Mr. Mason, the lessee of the Italian Opera House, is, nevertheless, about to be produced somehow at Drary Lane and the Adelphi. Should it prove successful, we suppose that, as in the the case of ' Der Freischutz,' the other bouse* will follow with it; aud then the majors aud minors, who have long been trying to play the devil with one another, will all be playing the Devil together.—Athcnccum.
THE « SCOTSMAN'S" OPINION OF SIR WALTER SCOTT.
Ik a late Number of that Journal, the following criticism appeared on Sir Walter Scott as a Novel writer, which we have much pleasure in transferring to our columns i
u It will scarcely be denied by any one who is acquainted with the literature of Europe, that in the history of fictitious writing, there never was an individual whose works produced so boundless an influence upon the hearts and minds of the whole world, M these by the Author of Waverley. From the days of Smollett and Fielding, till those of Scott, the field of English fiction had been occupied by writers of the most ordinary talent—Individuals who wrote, but who wrote not to the hearts of their fellow-men, for how could they—when they spoke not the language which nature dictated? With them, Romance was the opiate dream of a mind governed by the freaks of Fate and the gloom of Superstition—the bugbear of children, and the solace of fools. With them, a Novel was a tissue of mawkish sentimentality or maudlin melancholy—a collection of caricatures of society as outre in their outline, as they were absurd in their up-tilling, while a Talc was nothing more than the untoward story of two love-sick swains, with whose sorrows or with whose feelings the world at large could feel no sympathy. In this species of literature it seemed absolutely necessary that the beau ideal of perfection should belong to every hero, and the beau ideal of angelic purity to every heroine; but though both generally boasted of this beauty of the statue, they had, alas ! its coldness also. The world was weary gazing on what was altogether imaginary. It longed for something in sympathy with every-day feeling and observation. It yearned for material of a heartier and of a more expressive kind than it, had for years possessed. And, perhaps, we are not saying too much, when we state, that Sir Walter Scott discovered, and gave the desideratum to his country and the world. True it is, that when Waverley appeared, it seized the hearts of all men, and from its popularity and influence upon literature, seemed to utter the very language which men every where felt eager, but knew not how to express.
"In the novels of Scott, we find their author invariably casting his eye back upon the past with a melancholy fondness. There he found materials with which every heart could sympathize; for they touched a chord of historical association to which every heart responded. The prosaic common places of the present hour he exchanged for the glorious fancies which spring from the contemplation of Eld. In thus seeking out a period of past history for his imagination to revel in, Scott read a lesson to the world, that in Eld lay a mine from which the mind of man might extract valuable ore for ever, and upon which the fancy of man might ceaselessly speculate ; and men in England, and throughout every land that boasts a national literature, listened to his voice with delight, and followed his example.
** Sir W. Scott, while by his own writings he acquired a European reputation, has, in fact, also created every where a new school of novel, tale, and romance composition. By leading the literary eye to the mysteries of antiquity, and showing the rich materials which lie hid among the dust and the cobwebs of departed centuries, he has had the honour of being the parent of that kjuuraernble progeny of chivalrous tales which ok* out the modern Multitudinous fictions of Germany—the late feudal novels of France—the middle-age romances, which have lately characterized the almost extinct literary energies of Italy—and, in fine, the graphic fictions of the Indian's past story, which have emanated, and are still emanating from the infant, but prolific press of America. At this moment, the fictions of the Author of Waverley may be justly said to be the property of the world; and the heroes of his imagination are as well known by those who live on the banks of the Elbe, the Seine, and the Arno, as they are over the land that is watered by the Thames or the Tay. In Germany, for example, we were told by Or. Metizel, that there are no fewer thankee different translations of Scott's collected novels, besides innumerable translations of individual tales; and that of the former, or "Sammtliche HerAe," there had not been fewer than thirty thousand copies sold. In France, the M Conies demon H6te" in spite of such singularities as "a Si 1, kit Minister being traduced un Pretre assani/u," arc the talk of every fashionable saloon. While in Italy, the fate of Fergus 51'Ivor, on the one hand, and the filial affection of Rebecca, on the other, divide, with the modern fictions of Mauzoni, Ilosini, and Ilazzoni, the luxurious idlesse of the voluptuous Casino. Like Cervantes and Boccaccio, Scott has gained a notoriety among every people whose language chronicles the thoughts and fancies of cultivated man. By wielding his pen, not for a circle, a party, or a period, he has gained the highest pinnacle of human ambition—that of ruling the hearts and regulating the imaginations of mankind. The curse of Babel proves only a momentary obstacle to the diffusion of such genius and talent as he possesses—the variety of tongues, merely a means of rendering a name like his more remarkable and more enduring."
"It is probable that the Tales before us will be the last that
Sir W. Scott will produce—a probability which, we fear, is increased almost to a certainty, after perusing the short and touching valedictory address that is appended to these volumes. From this, it is easy to gather, that health has long eschewed the study of the Master of Abbotsford, and that " had he continued to prosecute his usual literary labours, it seems, indeed, probable, that at the term of years he has already attained, the bowl, to use the emphatic language of Scripture, would have been broken at the fountain." Whether the balmy breezes of that fair climate to which he has gone may obtain for him "such a restoration of health as may serve him to spin his thread to an end in his own country," is known only to Heaven. The ashes of one of Scotland's immortal novelists already repose in the soil of Ausonia, and we can scarcely afford her the honour of possessing those of another! But whatever may betide the Author of Waverley, during his Italian pilgrimage, he requires not to mount the Capitol to receive his crown of laurel. His brow already is bound with the deathless chaplet. Like his great contemporary and only rival—Goethe, Scott has attempted every species of literary labour, and, like the German Nestor, he has in all been singularly successful. He has gone over the whole garden of the Belles Lettres, and has planted in each parterre a perennial flower. Let him only now picture, like the Author of Faust, his own doings, with his own magic pen, and only give the world an insight into the machinery of his mind and feelings, by becoming his own biographer, and the coronal of his literary fame will then be complete. We hate leave-taking with most men, and particularly with so old and so amiable an acquaintance as the Author of Waverley.
Since our first meeting, we have travelled many rough stages towards the "green background of life," as Jean Paul so emphatically terms our last resting place, and during that journey, some of the happiest and most profitable hours has been occupied in listening to his lyre and studying his multifarious intellectual labours, it seems, however, that our regularly returning tete-atete is now destined to cease. We must henceforth look out for other music to soothe us, other mental magic to stimulate us. In calling our reader.}' attention to the new-born twin tales before us, left by their grateful parent as a last legacy to the public, we feel something of the melancholy which Gibbon experienced when he had just put the last touch to his Human History. On reading the concluding •* adieu," we feel, as far as Scott, at least, is concerned, that our occupation as critics is gone. In that vocation, whatever may have been the political differences which existed between us, we were never blind to the transcendent literary talents which belonged to our political opponent. Though his sentiments on government, like hi* Romances, belonged to tbe policy of the past, we felt impelled to pardon the one, for the pleasure we derived from the other. The genius which can procure for itself the command of nil the great vehicles of thought from the Wolga to the Mediterranean, is one that we cannot but venerate, and sure are we that no Scotsman' who contemplates what Sir Walter Scott has done for the literary glory of his country, will refuse tu join us in the sentiment:—
I'almam qui meruit ferat."
YES AND NO.
Love, little blind urchin, went shooting one day,
And madrigals chaunted so "pretty;
With Valentine s verses so witty:
Till Prudence prompts '• Yes," always answer, "Oh! no."
Lore, little false urchin, advice didn't spare,
Yet his arrows at random he shot 'em;
but thus wounded, their hearts she forgot 'em. Left by Prudence, the maids turned out silly, and so
They often said Yes, when they should have said No.
Contradiction or Puqverbs—"The more the merrier." Nut so; one hand is enough in a purse.—" Nothing hurts the stomach
more than surfeiting." Yes; lack of meat "Nothing but what
has an end." Not so; a ring hath none, for it is round "Money
is a great comfort." Not when it brings a thief to the gallows
"The world is a long journey." Not so; the sun goes over it every day.—" It is a great way to the bottom of the sea." Not so;
it is but a stone's cast "A friend is best fouud in adversity."
Not so; for then there is none to be found—" The pride of the rich makes the labour of the poor." Not so; the labour of the poor makes the pride of the rich.
It is secretly whispered by certain of the young Gordons Volages who are in the habit of frequenting the Coal Hole, that a Committee of privileges has been sitting there for some nights by-past, upon a matter of etiquette. Does it not appear utterly ludicrous for youths, with scarcely as many hairs on their chin as are now, alas! to be found on our polished cranium, to be dreaming, far less to be coolly discussing whether or not they ought to lend themselves to the monomania of Sir Lucius O'Trigger? Really, if all 'be true, that has been communicated to us, connected with this Committee, wc must say, that an account of its meetings would make as comical a paper as any that has appeared in our" Day."
Since the publication of the jeu tfespritot the " Bridge that Jack built," we have received so many poems anent this subject, that, to have published a tithe of them, would have completely occupied the whole of the Day. Now, as we can only spare a portion of that valuable measurer of time for such a purpose, we have thought it better to select one out of the many, and present it as a fair specimen of the shelly Pegasus that our correspondents have been ambling upon. It is entitled—
JAMAICA STREET BRIG.
And mnny brow baillies pass'd o'er it;
But just let our baillies be canny an' wise,
And no rin awa' wi' the harrow—
That 'tis better to bain than to barrow.
The truth of the saying you'll easily allow,
Then spare the auld brig that sae lang has prov'd true,
The prose hints connected with this subject that we have got, have likewise been very numerous; but, as we are aware that Mr. David Bell requires none of our assistance in this way, we have thrown them all aside. The fact is, they are merely plagiarisms from the published works of that gentleman. Among the prose productions, however, there is one to which we cannot help adverting, and that is on account of the happy illustration it institutes between the subject before us, and our present political situation. We can, however, only find room for one clause of this emblematical position. It is as follows :—" The more constitutional accommodation the people has, the better. A new constitution, like that of a new bridge, has been agreed on for two reasons: First, because the present constitution is too steep; the other, because it is not so wide as it could be wished. There have been objections also, latterly, to certain sinecures under the constitution, while there has been, in certain quarters, a strong desire to have the treasury opened."
Our friends at a distance cannot be supposed to enter into the universal anxiety that prevails here, connected with the issue of this business, and therefore will perhaps pardon us for occupying so much of The " Day" with this, to us, important matter. The fact is, upon the operations that are threatened, to be carried into effect at the Jamaica Street bridge, most probably depend the stability of the two bridges farther up the river. If the weir be carelessly taken away, the fate of " Tam o' the Linn's dochter" may some afternoon be realized, while, in the desire manifested for change which now prevails, our citizens may be likewise too soon taught to feel the truth of the following emphatic verse of -the old ballad to which we have referred :—
Tam o' the Linn he never was wise,
He sold his cow, and he cost a gryce;
The gryce toddled out, and it never came in.
We're sowless and cowless, quo' Tam o' the Linn.
COMPLAINT OF A SEMPSTRESS. The complaint of our fair corresponent appears well-founded; and if the hint be not immediately taken by the parties referred to, we shall certainly consider it our duty to exhibit their folly at fall length in a future " Day." Dear Ms. Day,
You must know, that Mama will not allow me any pin-money but such as I can acquire by my own Industry. I am, therefore, necessitated to turn my attention to the making of baby-linen, &c which childish amusement yields me no little supply of the needful, as I find a ready mart for the purchase of these articles in the Arcade Ladies' Repository. Now, Sir, what I have to complain of in that establishment is, that I can seldom make a visit there (which I always do in the cloud of the evening) without being shocked at having to expose my baby-linen to the view of several gentlemen! in the character of loungers, or lovers, or by whatever character they may assume. Now, they ought to have manners enough to know that ours is a ladies', not a man's Repository. Be good enough to give the intruding puppies a hint as to their miss-demeanours, and oblige, Your ardent admirer,
Carlton Place, Monday Evening.
FOREIGN LITERARY INTELLIGENCE.
Vienna Periodical Literature—For a population of three hundred and odd thousands, the press of tbe Austrian capital supplies three newspapers, and ten literary publications, either weekly or monthly.
We understand that Dr. Chalmers has at
W. C. Dendy is about to publish a work on the 1 of Dreams, and other Transient Illusions.
Mr. Wood is preparing for the press a complete illustration of the Lepidopterous Insects of Great Britain.
"The Domestic Manners of the Americans," by Francis Trollope, will appear immediately.
Mr. Ga.lt has in the press " The Member," a characteristic volume of autobiography.
A manual of the History of Philosophy, from the last German edition of Zimmerman, by the Rev. Arthur Johnson.
NOTICES TO CORRESPONDENTS.
As only a very few complete sets of The " Day" can now be made up, it is particularly requested that intending subscribers will apply for them immediately. Any of our readers who have Nos. 4, 5, aud 6 in good order, and are inclined to part with them, will receive future numbers in exchange.
"W. A. S.'s" communication has been received, and will be submitted to the consideration of the Board. In admitting poetical pieces, we are obliged to be particularly chary; but, for the encouragement of our correspondent, we should think he may "try his hand again."
A MORNING JOURNAL OF LITERATURE, FINE ARTS, FASHION, &c
GLASGOW, THURSDAY, JANUARY 19, 1832.
MEMOIRS OF A TOOTH. (Written by Itself.)
A little breath, love, wine, fighting, devotion, dust,
Gentle Reader! The unworthy object who now presumes to address you is one of those unfortunate individuals who can give no account of their birth or parentage. Much as I have pondered over the recollections of my infancy, and desirous as I am to gratify your curiosity, it grieves me to say that I cannot discover either at what period, or in whose jaws, I first saw the light of day. Thus far I can vouch, that I am by birth a British tooth, and that I came into being while my first owner was an infant. I remember, also, that, when I grew in size, I and my brothers and sisters were reckoned a very handsome set. Before, however, we had attained maturity, we were obliged to change our residence, as another family was fast growing up in our room. This event, which is called shedding the teeth, was very distressing to my young master or mistress, (I forget to which I belonged,) for many bitter tears were dropped upon the occasion, and when it became necessary to part with us, the hand which was to root us out of our places, essayed several times to perform the melancholy office, before it had courage to accomplish it. My agony, it may be judged, was equally great; not only because I was going to wander, I knew not whither, but because I was to bid adieu, for the first time, and for ever, to my nearest and dearest relations. This I did with a heavy i having fortified my mind as well as I could, , in trembling, the fatal pull. At last it came. Two delicate fingers seized me with reluctant violence, and, after one or two irresolute tugs, severed me altogether from the scenes and playmates of my childhood. This shock was too great for my feelings to bear; consciousness forsook me entirely, and I continued, I know not how long, without having the slightest notion of where I was. When I recovered my senses, I found myself in a very confined situation, which turned out to be the waistcoat pocket of a dentist, between whom, and an interesting young lady, the following dialogue took place:—
"Madam, if you will put confidence in me, I assure you that it is indispensably necessary for you to lose your decayed tooth, in order to preserve the soundness of the rest."
"If it is necessary," said the gentle creature, and my heart bled for her, " if it is necessary, doctor, I will submit. But—" she added in a reluctant tone, while her adviser proceeded—
"I assure you, Madam, it is necessary; and, if you will have patience for a moment, I will explain the science of our profession. The soundness of the teeth depends upon the same principle as the soundness of a bridge. The teeth form an arch, and this arch must be preserved entire; for the moment there is any decay in one of its parts, the strength of the whole is either impaired or ruined. Now, Madam, your arch is destroyed, by the unsoundness of one of your teeth, and if you will just let me remove that one, I will make a very neat job of it, and supply its place with one of the prettiest little teeth you ever saw."
"Shew me the tooth," said the lady, glad to interrupt the harangue with which she had been threatened. I was accordingly produced, and, after receiving my due share of admiration, was again deposited in the waistcoat pocket, while the operation of removing my predecessor was performed. Poor thing! It was a painful job; and I still remember how I trembled to hear the rending shrieks which she uttered. It was over, however, in a little, and, in a few days, I had the pleasure of seeing myself set in the prettiest and smallest mouth into which it has ever been my fortune to be admitted. Here I spent the most delicious part of my life, hearing nothing but praises on my beauty, from a crowd of my mistress's admirers, and having the delightful employment of pronouncing the sweet sentiments which issued from her lovely mouth. Sometimes I would feel a thrill of romantic pleasure, as her warm breath rushed upon my nerves, winged with the transports of passion ; and at others I enjoyed the envious happiness of pressing the delicate food which was to pass into the soft channel contiguous to that through which her respiration was conveyed. My time, indeed, could not have been more pleasantly occupied; for I loved my mistress, and I had the satisfaction of finding myself serviceable to her in the thousand ways. It was at this time that I acquired the rudiments of my education, which had been previously very much neglected. My mistress was very fond of novels and romances, and, as she took a pleasure in reading aloud, I received the benefit of every book which she perused. Perhaps, indeed, it was unfortunate for me that her predilection lay so much in the light style of literature, for I am certain it was in this way that I acquired a certain sensibility of mind, which has since proved very inconvenient to me on numerous occasions. The more useful branches of study, however, were not entirely disregarded, as languages, music and philosophy were occasionally resorted to by my mistress, when there was no object more agreeable to occupy her attention. I may say, therefore, that, after I had been a year in her service, I had reason to consider myself a pretty accomplished tooth. At the end of this time, an unlucky accident put an end to my happiness.
It chanced that my mistress, one day, after completing her toilette, had gone out of the dressing room, leaving me on the table. In her absence, two of her admirers entered the room at the same time, and, observing me both at once, entered into a dispute about the possession of me, as if I had been a rich prize. Neither of them would yield to the other, and it was ultimately agreed that a duel should decide their claims. A meeting accordingly took place, when one of the combatants dangerously wounded the other, and was obliged to fly his country for the act. Not forgetting, however, the object which had occasioned the quarrel, he wrote to my mistress, before departing for the continent, mentioning that he had stolen me from her, and intended to wear me for her sake.
Behold me now, then, after having been the innocent cause of bloodshed, separated for ever from my dear mistress, and crossing the British channel in the portmanteau of a new owner. In a short time we arrived at Boulogne, where the first thing my master did was to take me out of the corner in which I had been packed, and repair to a dentist, for the purpose of getting a sound tooth drawn, to make room for me in his mouth. The pain which he suffered in executing this gallant resolution was very intense, as he evinced by a most woful groau. At one time I thought that his heroism would not carry him through with it; and, when it was over, it was found that I was a great deal too small to fill up the vacuum. This the dentist represented very forcibly to my new master, and recommended that a larger tooth should be put in; but nothing would dissuade him from his purpose, so I was forthwith mounted in the front of his mouth, shewing beside my companions like a pigmy. In this situation I travelled to Paris, where my appearance gained for my master the name of " little-tooth Jack." Here I would perhaps have enjoyed myself considerably, as I was constantly entertained with the choicest viands, had it not been that my looseness proved a serious inconvenience to me. I was several times very nearly extracted from my master's mouth by a tough piece of meat, and especially when he attempted to speak the French language, with which he was not particularly familiar, his awkward attempts at pronunciation made me totter very insecurely in my place. In fact, as he was one day paying a compliment to a lady, at a fete of the British ambassador's, the contortions of his tongue were so great as to unloose my fastenings, and I dropped upon the floor, without my loss being at the time observed. There I lay the rest of the evening, subjected to the tread of merciless toes. It was not till the next morning that I was rescued from my situation by the old ambassador himself, who, supposing me to have come from the gums of a duchess whose false teeth were no secret, preserved me as a treasure in his scrutoire, till a vacancy in his odentic establishment gave him an opportunity of taking me into his service.
Now, fairly settled in the ambassador's mouth, I had all the advantages for becoming a thorough-bred politician, as my master's time was almost wholly occupied in framing diplomatic deceptions, or in making promises which he never intended to perform. I learnt sufficient to have become, had I chosen, a consummate master of intrigue. But, fortunately these lessons of craft were opposed by that sensibility of disposition, which I formerly mentioned; and the whimsical turn of my master's temper, dismissed me before I had been long in his possession.
I was then cast neglected into a lumber press, where my beauty might have wasted itself long enough upon the desert air, had not chance directed an old maid to turn me up, in a search after something else. "O! rare tooth I" exclaimed the lady as soon as she espied my ivory brilliancy, "O! beautiful tooth! whose mouth shall compare with mine, when it is adorned with thy sparkling lustre? No more shall maids in their teens toss their heads at me, when I can shame them, by shewing a tooth as young and white as theirs." To seize and kiss me was one act, and in another hour the dentist had received me into his hands, with directions to make a set of teeth as like me as possible. When these were completed, I was joined with them, and for the first time found myself cased in jaws, which, with the exception of myself, could boast of none but imitation teeth. This was an insult, sufficiently mortifying; but, after a short time, I discovered that this was not the most disagreeable part of my situation. My mistress was one of those ill-natured old maids who make it their business to go about retailing scandal, and inventing ill-natured remarks against all of their neighbours whom nature has given them cause to envy. In this malicious office, I was of course made an unwilling instrument, and I may safely say that I never did any thing so disagreeable to my wishes. Sometimes when I was obliged to repeat stories, which I knew to be falsehoods, I have wished that I could have slipt down the old lady's throat, and choked her outright. Often have I pressed with biting probe upon her tongue, as
it darted past, charged with venom and jealousy; bat, notwithstanding all my efforts to the contrary, I was still doomed to serve against my conscience. Ah! how forcibly did my tranquillity, in the service of my first mistress recur to my thoughts at these times.
I will not dwell upon so disagreeable a narration. My mistress was obliged to leave Paris on account of the history of her teeth getting wind, and, when she returned to London, her native place, to exhibit her mouth in the fashionable circles there, the story followed her.
From mortification, at this result, she fell ill, and, as her end was approaching, she desired my present owner to destroy the Bet of teeth without any person's knowledge. To his mercy I owe my preservation, and my readers the memoirs of a travelled and educated tooth.
OUTLINES OF WESTERN SOCIETY—No. L (From the Note Book of an Artist. J As I have only two reasons to assign for quitting the more fashionable circles of Edinburgh, and taking up my residence in the great commercial emporium of the west, I may just as well let my reader at once into my confidence, by communicating these two important matters; particularly, as they can be done in few words, and as this proof of my confidence may chance to beget a corresponding feeling in return. As the first of these reasons, however, is rather of a delicate nature, I trust the reader wilt consider it entirely nitre nous; and, I may also add, that I shall certainly feel very much hurt, should I ever chance to hear from the mouth of a third party, as it may tend to injure me in my profession. In your ear, therefore, my very indulgent friend, let me whisper that my grand reason for quitting Edinburgh, was the great difficulty I had in getting paid for my labour. During my stay amid the splendid poverty of the "city of palaces," I had no reason to complain of want of employment; one kind introduced another, and all felt very much inclined to enct, a young man, whom they flatteringly allowed to possess „-... talents in his art. It has often struck me, though, I confess, it was with a feeling of humiliation, that there exists many points of similarity between the profession of a portrait painter and that of a carver of chins. In the first place, we both may be said to belong to the brush, and both alike depend on the countenance of the public for our support, which, if withheld, we may shut up shop as soon as we please. In some respects, however, I must confess my rival has the advantage of me; though he works in water colours, yet he can lay on his tints with greater certainty of pleasing his customers than I can pretend to; he can also touch off a face at a single sitting, a thing which I have never been able to accomplish; and what is of much greater consequence, and gives him a decided superiority over almost every other "son of the brush," he gets his price for his faces the moment they are out of his hands. Gentle reader, had I been treated by the aristocracy of Athens with a tithe of the consideration which they bestow upon their barber, I would not have been obliged to make my bow to the more considerate, though less fashionable community, of which I am now, I trust, not altogether an unworthy member. But these high-flying worthies conceiving, I suppose, that as I had made them sit for their portraits, it was but doing the polite to make me sit in my turn for the payment, which I have done in their cursed anti-rooms for many a blessed day, without being < honoured with a sight of their countenance; alas, reader! , countenance which I had fondly hoped would have enabled
to settle with my landlady, or my no less urgent tailor,! ..„,,,
without any fault on my part, save the trifling sin of importunity, most unhandsomely withdrawn from me. Yes, my indignant reader, the face on which I had bestowed so much pains, and whose lineaments I had laboured to trace with all the art I was master of, and which, while so engaged, would have turned towards me, at my bidding, with any expression upon it I i name, was now most ungratefully averted, and I but the cold profile when we chanced, by accident, to meet. How often have I said to such a patron, in the enthusiasm of my gratitude, when he promised to sit, that he had just the face for a> painter! Fool that I was; I soon found that he had a fact for anything.