For our own parts, however, we are literary infidels, and have little faith in the hereafter of a posthumous reputation. Saturn has not left off that villainous trick of his of eating his own children; and if he bshould at length stand in need of bitters to refresh his appetite, we modern candidates for fame are so numerous, that we should devour each brother. Even Voltaire and Rousseau will soon find their fame reduced "Nomen et umbra an and the "Grand siècle de Louis Quatorze" will in another generation disappear before an age which if it does not laugh and dance more decently," will at least do so with more variety and animation. Not even all the spices and gums of the new loyal-relivigious literary society will suffice to make a durable mummy of its brprize poets, its professors, and its dictators. Its fasti will perish with all the nefasti that shall load ad its pages; and the doings, and the doers of this literary world" will not reach posterity even under the equivocal form of an extraneous fossil, to testify to after-ages their obscure exofistence in the present antediluvian times. This, to be sure, is good be comfort for us periodicals. Each of our monthly appearances may be considered as a death-blow to the one which preceded it. We lay no oclaims on posterity; or, if we look to a longer immortality than one 12 Calendar month," it is through the friendly instrumentality of a go bookbinder. With a stout Russia back, indeed, and two thick pieces of pasteboard, we may take our places on the shelves of a library, and fill a row as well as better books, when in process of time we may be as thoroughly neglected as authors of much more weight and merit. Our kingdom is altogether earthly, and with it we must rest contented, lesufficiently happy that while other dogs have only their day, we have "Our month of fame; provided that during the month we succeed in al pleasmg that literary world" to whose services we are devoted, the numerous, highly respectable readers of the New Monthly Magazine. to in bus gde smo vas nebпoq291709 1ids M art boiraq tert 19fts 004 10tzen nilai ebrol ym Lib,eriods of anis M32 ni tlsati sotto-1809 wok od 9.9th gaul temdostts dds of gaituo vilammes to fama Ins) and or night when dreams th 2013 et 16 7 AT night when dreams thine image bring, 910 16 10 11 91 see thee smile, I hear thee sing; 21 auroor) beg dro 90 8 And many a whisper'd accent say, 95 96 96-1016 0179 m 100 g dare not, cannot breathe by day. 15 m SONG, 10 then when I too fondly speak, 4 Izolod The rose-hue deeper dyes thy cheek, or of m A thousand lovelier charms are shown, : fb The silent world to love and me, 4 A jltr༣M ? GRIMM'S GHOST. * *iegos 901 wi】 01 10 508, 20, MO (LETTER"RVII. to medo e quee Mit Sar aqqon und School Friendship. 211 2 i ។ י, COLONEL and Mrs. Nightingale reside in Albemarle-street. The cants may be said to to form the t two sides of an obtuseColonel's movements angled triangle: that is to say, he rides into Hyde Park before dinner, and to the Opera-house in the Haymarket after it. Mrs. Nightingale reads the English poets: she possesses them all neatly bound, and placed upon a species of literary dumb-waiter. When tired of Sir Walter Scott, she has only to give her sattin-wood machine a jerk, and "Cain, a Mystery," tumbles into her lap. About two-and-thirty years ago, Jack Nightingale (as he was then called) quitted Westminster School. His most intimate crony at that establishment was George Withers, a fair round-faced boy with flaxen hair. Old General Nightingale, Jack's father, used to call him "the sweet little cherub," partly with reference to the chubby-cheeked ornaments of old tombstones, and partly to Dibdin's celebrated ballad, which introduces that bodyless The cherub would often acpersonage at the close of every stanza. company young Nightingale to dine with the General, in Hertford-street, May-fair. Upon these occasions, the latter would take upon him to cross-examine his visitant in Latin. The General seldom advanced into the Roman territories beyond "Mars, Bacchus, Apollo," but he continued, nevertheless, to make George Withers sit very uneasy upon his chair. Be that as it may, the friendship of the two boys was most exemplary: I am as fond of new quotations as the author of Saint that Ronan's Well, and shall therefore satisfy myself with asserting, th "In infancy their hopes and fears Were to each other known.” " Gib Time makes terrible havoc with school friendships. Jack Nightingale quitted Westminster and became a member of his father's profession: George Withers, entered the church, and became curate of Scoresby, in Yorkshire. For the first six months, nothing could be more constant than their correspondence. Many a one shilling and ninepence of theirs, did my lords the Joint Postmaster pocket: after that period the attachment hung fire, like the New Post-office itself in St. Martin's le Grand. Something of importance was continually occurring to abbreviate their epistles: Jack Nightingale had to try on a new hussar cap, and George Withers had to bury an old woman.-"So no more at present from," &c. &c. The case is by no means a singular one. bon, when living at Lausanne, was always hammering out an excuse for not writing to his friend Lord Sheffield. The fault, in these cases, seems to consist in attempting to apologize: why not boldly leave off writing at once, and imitate the man with a toothache, who, after being pestered with seven civil enquiries from a friend, couched in the accustomed phrase, "How do you find yourself now," at length answered, alteration I will let know." you "when there is any The revolutionary French war now broke out, and Cornet Nightingale joined his regiment in Flanders. Two letters," like angel visits," (another new quotation) were despatched by him to his clerical Orestes, from before Valenciennes. In one of these the following phrase) occurred, "Our troops have sat down before the town. George Withers in his reply, observed, "I am very glad to hear it, for the poor fellows must have been sadly tired." Our military Pylades took this as a joke, but I confidently believe that it was written in sober seriousness. George Withers had heard talk of camp-stools, and concluded that the Duke of York had provided his weary troops with a due assortment of them. Upon the firing of these two epistolary shots, both batteries were silenced. of Jag s wa boog uit en 4 ale vd Disgalty: Cl After a lapse of upwards of thirty years, one fine Saturday after noon, in the last variable month of March, when Colonel Nightin gale had availed himself of a gleam of sunshine, to take his canter in the Park, his lady, busied at her rotatory book-stand, heard a hard-double rap at the street-door. The two heavy concussions made her think it was either a twopenny postman or a twopenny creditor. In either case the affair excited but little emotion. John, however, in a few seconds entered the drawing-room, and informed his mistress, that a fat manu wished particularly to see Colonel Nightingale or his Lady." Shew him up," said Mrs. Nightingale, "but leave the door ajar, and remain ! within call." The door was re-opened, and in walked the Reverend George Withers. He begged pardon for intruding; but, being summoned up to town to attend a trial, (here he produced the subpoena) he could not for the life of him avoid calling upon his old friend and schoolfellow, whom he had not seen for thirty years and upwards: he had had a vast deal of trouble in finding him out at the Horse Guards he was referred to the United-Service Club: he had turned, by mis--( take, into a large glass shop, in what used, thirty years ago, to be called Cockspur-street, but the name was now changed to Pall Mallr East, why he could not devise: the man at the counter was very civil, that he must say for him, but could give him no information: the two sentinels fronting Carlton Palace, had contented themselves with shaking their heads: but at length, Mr. Samms the bookseller, at the corner of St. James's street, had cast his eye over a little thick red book, called Boyle's Court Guide, and had directed him to the proper place. Mrs. Nightingale received Mr. Withers, notwithstanding the decided mauvais ton of his aspect, with great politeness. She intimated that she had often heard the Colonel speak of his friend Withers, and how de lighted he should be to meet with him again: the Colonel was riding in Hyde Park; but she hoped and trusted that Mr. Withers would name an early day for partaking of a family dinner in Albemarle-street. Mr. Withers looked a little duller than usual at this sine die adjournment, and said that he must go back to Scoresby on the morrow. Mrs Night-: ingale hereupon hoped that Mr. Withers would so far oblige them, as to partake of their humble fare to-day. The reverend gentleman acquiesced with alacrity; and after many bows, and backing against a frail mahogany table surmounted with a chess-board, whereby knights and pawns were pree pitated to the ground, took his departure to the New Hummums. "I have invited a friend to dine with you: to-day," said Mrs. Nightingale, as her spouse with splashed boots entered the room. The brow of Colonel Nightingale lowered-“My dear, how could you be so dreadfully inconsiderate: are you aware that it is Opera night?”. "True," rejoined the Lady, “but the gentleman is obliged to quit town terance. 5! putne 1 “ f to-morrow." "He must be a very extraordinary gentleman if he int duces me to postpone Catalani." I think, notwithstanding, that that consequence will follow, when you learn who it is." And pray who is it?" What do you think of George Withers.""What, my oldum crony at Westminster?" "Yes, he. My dear Augusta, you have i acted with your accustomed good sense. George Withers! I shall be) delighted to see him! Why it is nearly twenty years since we last saw {{ each other." For nearly twenty read upwards of thirty, oqhoughtsdi Mrs. Nightingale, but she was too good a wife to give the erratum ut19/ 9 71% it to shruuq′′ lo reqɛí a vÚA Precisely at half-past six, the same sort of heavy double-rap at the door on denoted that George Withers had arrived. The schoolfellows advanced with delight to accost each other, but in the act of shaking hands mutually gave a start of astonishment. Good heaven! said Nightingale to him-q self, is it possible that this can be Withers? and, Good heavens! said " Withers to himself, is it possible that this can be Nightingale ?a sympathy of ejaculation, which could only proceed from friendship of such a long standing. Dinner was immediately announced, and Mrs. Nightin gale was destined to be amused by an eager recital of their mutual hair-n breadth scapes" at their ancient seminary. "Do you remember Sam Talbot?" To be sure I do. What is become of him?""He married a planter's daughter, and settled in Tobago.". "Where's Lawrence?""Which of them, Charles or Robert?"" Robert, Lo meant."" He is a barrack master at Colchester."" And what's become of Charles Enderby, who broke his leaping-pole, and fell into al Drayton's ditch in Tothill-fields?""Oh, he has purchased half a 90 million of swampy acres in the back-settlements of America !” “Inst deed! well, he always had a turn that way. Do you remember his ag battle with Frank Parsons? he certainly would have scalped him if he f had not worn a wig." Discourse like this is highly entertaining to the parties interested; but they are apt, in the hurry of colloquy, to keep alle the entertainment to themselves. Mrs. Nightingale, independently of her dislike to these exclusive reminiscences, found serious internal fault with the Reverend George Withers's style of eating. The food unques tionably reached his mouth, but somehow it never got there as it should have done. His four-pronged silver-fork lay idle upon the tablecloth, while his knife doing all the duty which polite custom has thrown upon its silver associate, passed to and fro from his mouth to his plate with fearful impetuosity. I have one chance yet," sighed the lady to herself; hel will cut his own tongue out in a minute I plainly perceive that nothing else can check his garrulity." Still the conversation ran in the same channel: "Do you remember this ?" and "Do you remember that?" ushered in every speech. At length the Reverend Mr. Withers asked the friend of his heart, whether he remembered how he served the Italian image-men? Nightingale had forgotten it. "Oh then I must recall it to your memory," said the divine. There was a party of us, madam, (turning to the lady of the Mansion) at our window, when in came a man into Dean's yard with a set of plaister images upon a board, balanced upon his head. These Italians are certainly admirable artists. Such correct grouping of figures, such harmony! Let me see, there were Socrates, Mendoza, Necker, Lord Howe, Milton, a gilt lion, Count Cagliostro, Whitfield, and a green parrot, all cheek-by-jowl to gether. The man-oh, you must remember it, Jack-walked under the window, crying ́ ́ Image, image, who'll buy my image?' when you 0, you must recollect--threw a basin of water upon his board. Away floated Whitfield, and the green parrot; Mendoza gave Milton a knockdown blow the gilt lion fell tooth and, nail, upon Count Cagliostro: and Necker could not find ways and means to keep his place--Lord Howe was the only officer who kept the deck.", "Yes, yes, now I do re member it," exclaimed Colonel Nightingale, laughing heartily. It would have been better if he had remained serious. The opening of his fauces set Mr. Withers's tongue afloat upon a very ticklish topic. "Why, Jack," exclaimed the relentless clergyman, "you have got a new tooth." The Colonel reddened; but the ecclesiastic proceeded. "Well, that's droll enough: you certainly had lost a tooth: I think it was your lefteye tooth. "Do you retain your wise ones?" enquired the caustic Colonel. "Yes, both of them," replied the matter-of-fact divulger of secrets. "You must remember the loss of your's; it was on the left side: Frank Anderson knocked it out with a cricket-ball. There are certain secrets which men keep even from their wives. For "twice ten tedious years" the Colonel had been hugging himself in the certainty that the affair in question was confined to Chevalier Ruspini and him self. f." Will you take a glass of Champaign, Sir?" said the master of the mansion. The movement was most dextrous. The Reverend Mr. Withers had made a "god of his belly" too long to allow the thoughts of any teeth, save his own, to cross his Bacchanalian devotions for " When the summons of "Coffee is ready" had induced the two schoolfriends to rejoin Mrs. Nightingale in the drawing-room, all former ins cidents had been pretty well exhausted, and they now proceeded to discuss things as they are." But in this species of duett they by no means chimed harmoniously together. Withers thought Scoresby and its concerns were the concerns of all mankind; and Nightingale could not imagine that any body upon earth had any thing to think of save Rossinį and his prima donna of a wife, Lindley's violoncello, Garcia in Agorante, and Catalani in Il Fanatico per la Musica. "I have news to tell you,' said the country parson to the frequenter of the Italian opera, "which I am sure you will be glad to hear."—"Indeed, what is it ?”—“ My black sow has produced me seven of as pretty pigs as ever you saw in your life. Then I've another thing to tell you: I enlarged my pig-stye seven feet four inches: four inches? I really think it was five: yes, it cer tainly was five. This caused the building to project a little, and but a little, upon the footpath that leads the back way, up town, from the Red Lion to Mrs. Marshall's meadow. Well, now, what do you think Tom Austin did? He told Richard Holloway that I had been guilty of a trespass; whereupon Holloway, by advice of Skinner his attorney, pulled down four planks of the new part of the pig-stye, and let the whole litter out into the village! Little Johnny Mears caught one of them-it was the black and white one-and Smithers, the baker, contrived to get hold of five more; but I have never set eyes upon the seventh from that day to this! The poor black sow took on sadly. Dick Hol loway ought to be ashamed of himself. He is a fellow of very loose habits, and never sets out his tithes as he should do. But what can you expect from a Presbyterian?" "This bald unjointed chat" made Colonel Nightingale fidget up and down like the right elbow of Mr. |