important question, my dear sir; and methinks, if you just run over a page or two, you will gain some light on the subject."

Mr. Meadows took the little pamphlet and read with his natural unsuspicious credulity, and then exclaimed,

"This does, indeed, throw a light on the matter. Really I know not how much to thank you sufficiently! I have been dreaming hitherto. How just is this observation," and, laying his finger on the page, he read, "An unknown author, particularly a poet, cannot, in these days of multifarious publication, hope to attract notice in the crowded arena of literature any more than he might expect it personally if mingled in the thronged confusion of a great city in which he was an utter stranger.' Then how kind and considerate is what follows:-' But far different is the case when the stranger's merits are discovered by those whose privilege it is to direct the public taste. Önce introduced by them to the reading world, the unknown is suddenly transformed into an agreeable acquaintance, his book is upon every table, and his name a familiar household word. Thus has it been with the writer of these poems. Though not faultless, and here and there savouring of a puerile affectation of lisping' like Pope, there was much in them to commend; and we commended them accordingly, though Mr. Rogers was, and still is, an entire stranger to us. It was our duty, and we performed it, as we always have and will, without fear, favour, or affection; and the result is, that the present edition has been called for by the discerning public. Had it not been for such notice (and we are happy to say that, in this case, certain contemporaries agreed with us in opinion) the poem in question might yet

have remained on the publisher's shelves."

"No doubt of it," said the young lady; "and allow me to whisper in your ear that the unornamental titlepage of your little volume is not likely to excite attention, save to those who happen to know Mr. Meadows. You must have an engraved frontispiece by Stoddart to your next edition

"Nay, nay, spare me! do not be ironical!"

"I am serious. Listen! I think, nay, I am pretty sure, that I can get a notice of your work into The Recorder. I have a friend who contributes, but you must assist me when you are in London. Ah, how provoking! my uncle can't sleep, and is coming to us. Take the book with you, and we will talk it over another day."

There was something strangely cordial for him in the manner of Mr. Brammel's farewell to his guests of that evening; and the last words be said to our curate were, "You're a queer fellow, but you've done me good. Spoiled my nap, though; couldn't sleep somehow. Never mind, good night; you've done me good, I say!"

The party addressed felt much doubt respecting the latter assertion; but that what had passed between them was not an utter waste of time may be inferred from what escaped Mrs. Brammel about ten days after when making a friendly call at Milfield Vicarage. After replying to an inquiry respecting her husband's health, she added, "I am thankful: I ought to be. I don't understand it. He has seldom of late years been desirous of any one person's society in particular; but he is now constantly saying he wishes Mr. Meadows back again!"

Our curate was then in London.

A WINTER CAROL.

RESPECTFULLY INSCRIBED TO A YOUNG LADY WHOM THE AUTHOR

MET IN "THE CAMBRIDGE STAR."

THE following verses came to our hands in a very unsatisfactory manner.
In the first place, the writer's gyp evidently kept the twopence which he had
given him to defray the sum charged by her majesty for the transmission of
the letter. This we gather from the remarkably well-written "prepaid"
inserted on the right-hand corner of the envelope. And, in the second place,
the verses were not accompanied by a single line of commentary or ex-
planation; thus leaving every allusion completely in the dark. Both cir-
cumstances have caused us mortification and expense. The former omission
obliged us to pay fourpence; and the latter has entailed upon us the neces-
sity of remitting the poem to our own esteemed correspondent at Cambridge,
whose observations we have inserted in the margin, by way of commentary
on the text. Our friend furnishes us with some particulars respecting the
Mr. Joseph Walton of whom mention is made in the poem. This gentleman,
it seems, is, or was, the managing director of the Star; his vulgar appellation
would be coachman. The introduction of a railway to Cambridge has, of
course, considerably affected, not only the office, but the emoluments of Mr.
Walton, who is said to have long earned for himself the enviable reputation
of being the fastest man out of the University. In him our late excellent con-
tributor, Nimrod, would have found a subject worthy of his pencil,-one
who knew the pace, and kept it. Mr. Walton, intimately connected during
a long and memorable career-for it would be absurd to call his a life-
with the most interesting economy of horses, has a due feeling of the dis-
tinction of his situation. It may, however, be new to him, that this sym-
pathy with equine habits was one of the characteristics of the most illustrious
warriors in the early times of heroic adventure. It has, in fact, quite an epic
stamp upon it. Accordingly, our excellent friend Professor Keble has shewn
that the first care of Diomed, after escaping from imminent peril, is con-
cerning the safety of his horses. The passage occurs in the fifth book of the
Iliad:-

Αίκιν μοι πολύβουλος Αθήνη κύδος όρεξη,
̓Αμφοτέρω κτείναι, συ δε τους င်း μεν ώκέας ίππους
Αὐτοῦ ἐρυκακέειν, ἐξ άντυγος ηνία τείνας
Αίνειας δ' επαίξαι μεμνημένος ίππων,

Εκ δ' έλασαι Τρώων μετ' εύκνημίδας ̓Αχαιους.

We think that Homer was evidently upon the road in some capacity or other; not that he, any more than Mr. Walton, would have realised the sketch which the Temple experience of Cowper supplied to his remembrance at Weston, when, speaking of the charm of slumber, he instanced him

"Who quits the coach-box at the midnight hour,

To sleep within the carriage more secure,

His legs depending at the open door."

There is nothing absolutely new in thus presenting our readers with a poem by one hand and a commentary by another. The late Mr. Gray did the same kind office for his friend Mr. James Beattie. And it is rather amusing to observe the two poets exchanging duties: Gray hinting im provements; and Beattie tingling all over with unbelieving civility, and determined to stick by his blunders to the last gasp. Thus Gray," You return again to the charge. Had you not said enough before ?" To which Beattie:" What I said before referred only to sophists perverting the truth; this alludes to the method by which they pervert it." Again: Beattie wrote,

"When sulphurous clouds roll on the vernal day.”

On which Gray: "With us it rarely thunders in the spring, but in the summer frequently." Which Beattie confronts as usual: "It sometimes thunders in the latter part of spring; sultry day would be an improvement, perhaps." However, he afterwards made it autumnal. Now we hope our Cambridge Gray will not be thought unkind to his unknown brother Beattie. We are much more apprehensive about his prolixity. However, he has great examples to plead. Mr. Mathias set a frame, twelve inches thick, round one of his miniature rhymes; and a very remarkable poem by Mr. Pope, which on this occasion we shall not venture to name more particularly, is noticeable for the extreme copiousness of its illustrations.—O. Y.