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that they should say their catechism and submit themselves to all in authority over them; but that, reader, you know, has little to do with thinking. To call the proposed work "vulgar errors" would, indeed, be a double misnomer; for, first, such a work should not treat so much of the errors of the vulgar, as of the more profitable dogmas, "which taken at the tide lead on to fortune:" and secondly, the errors of the great are not errors at all, but durante bene placito good and lawful truths, and a legal tender in all societies and upon all occasions, which it is highly penal to refuse, until, being discarded as no longer serviceable or modish, they are consigned to the gentlemen of the second table, along with the cast suits of the corporeal wardrobe.

To treat the matter, indeed, logically, it is not quatenus truth or error, but quatenus fashionable or heterodox, that an opinion is important. Although, therefore, it is scarcely possible to treat of the "quid verum atque decens," the loyal, proper, and decent opinions, which it is right that "all Christian men" should maintain, without hinting, at least exclusive, at what is the contrary, yet (as the Jansenist priest said of the belief in a Deity) cela n'est pas l'essentiel, and it would be wrong to put this part of the subject too forward. Rather let the publisher and his friends endeavour after a more taking title, such, for instance, as (a Greek name always does well)" The Court Noometer, or Pantisocratic view of men and things," "The intellectual Diorama for the year 18—,” “The Laureate's directory, or Church and State manuel ;" which are all in their way as good as "Highways and Byways," or the cramped grimgribber of the Northern "secondary novelists," which have all succeeded so admirably in catching the eye of the public.

Next, as to the choice of an Editor. This, indeed, is a grave matter, and not lightly to be determined upon. The personage in question should possess no ordinary tact, and no trifling experience, to perform his functions creditably and beneficially; especially in these latter times, when unanimity is no longer deemed essential to the management of state affairs. Orthodoxy, said a wag, is my doxy; and Heterodoxy another man's doxy; but now-a-days there are so many standard-bearers whose my is worthy of consideration, that the case is by no means so simple. Who, for instance, can say from authority, whether the Lord Chancellor's doxy or Mr. Canning's is the orthodoxy of the day; whether Lord Liverpool's or Mr. Robinson's political economy are most in vogue "in the highest quarter;" or whether Mr. Plunkett's or Mr. Peel's church polity is the sound doctrine of the current year? Then if we consult the ministerial journals to guide our researches, "nil fuit unquam tam dispar sibi." The best way would be to get an Editor appointed in Downing-street; but if that cannot be done, the writer of the court-journals, or the Attorney-general for the time being, might be depended upon as safe men.

Another important consideration regards the periods of publication. On account of the Court Calendar, I should prefer an annual appearance; but it may be doubted whether quarterly or monthly publications would not better meet the public demand. Of late, the fluctuations of opinion have been very rapid; and state orthodoxy has changed its tone as often, and by as abrupt dieses, as if government were one of Beethoven's concertos. On this point, however, experience is the best guide; and there is no reason why a shorter period should not be

adopted for this, no less than for the other periodical disseminators of "sound learning and religious education."

The most important part of the work, for consultation, would be the Historical Register, which should notice the slightest changes of shading in the current orthodoxy, and should be followed by an ample obituary of all principles and opinions defunct since the publication of the last In the historical register the subjects should be separately classed; for which purpose the following may serve as a precedent :POLITICS.-Since the publication of our last, none of "the lights of the land" have been extinguished, and no rising young statesman has appeared on the horizon. Legitimacy, however, is two per cent. on the decline. They talk more of civil liberty and of British commerce, of late; and it is less disloyal to speak ill of the Holy Alliance. The reform question much the same as at the last quotation. The currency question gone ad plures.-N. B. The tread-mill is for the present an wholesome exercise, and bread and water a sufficient diet for untried prisoners.

RELIGION. SAINTSHIP daily acquires vogue: "there must be something in it when great men's butlers look grave." The Hatton-garden Chapel looks downwards. Greek independence has positively nothing to do with Christianity, there being (as the licensers of the Koran long ago determined) nothing in that book contrary to the doctrine and discipline of the Catholic Church. Prince Hohenlohe a puzzle to some leading personages. Might not miracles be introduced to protect the establishment against innovators in matters of tithe? Catholic emancipation, see Obituary.

LITERATURE.-Las Cases' Journal very interesting, and Napoleon, like his great ally, not quite so bad as he has been painted. The Journey to Brussels a striking portrait of its royal author. The Scotch novels just hold their own-the market overstocked. The Lakers, see Obituary. The three unities spoken slightingly of in some French circles. The Literary Society in growing disrepute abroad and at home. New Monthly Magazine universally approved.

MISCELLANEOUS.-Tom and Jerry put down by acclamation. Gambling no longer a Christian virtue. Slave-trade discussions, for the present, are to be taken as the infallible occasions of Black insurrections. Natural infirmities during the ensuing winter will be deemed sufficient causes for penal inflictions. Horses the best actors; and real water and real fire are the only approximations to the truth of Nature, which should be encouraged on the stage. N. B. Mr. Larpent, a better judge of tragedy than Aristotle. Religious steam-boats ought to be exempted from the searches of custom-house officers; as smuggling is no bar to sanctity, and piety and prudence are by no means incompatibles.

In the present state of literary adventure it is not necessary to add more in the way of illustration. A hint is sufficient to the wise. That the speculation would succeed, hardly admits of doubt. There are so many points on which the best judges know not what to think, that I should not despair of seeing bishops and cabinet councillors becoming subscribers. If the publisher played his cards tolerably well, his book would be distributed by the Tract Societies, and whole editions would be disseminated for the edification of the poor. The aphorisms and

maxims of the volume, as they stand, would form a proper supplement to "the Whole Duty of Man ;" and, turned into dialogue, or dramatized into a story, they would be rendered fit accompaniments for "Sinful Sally," "Poor Joseph," and the unfortunate Footman of Mr. and Mrs. Fantom, the philosophers. To maiden members of the House of Commons the volume would be indispensable; and I would not advise any one to stand candidate for F.R.S. or F.S.A. without first duly studying its pages. In the two Universities it would become a necessary adjunct to the College courses; and its introduction would afford a fit opportunity for following the example of Trinity College, Dublin, by banishing from the lecture-room the dangerous and schismatic writings of Locke. You will, therefore, Mr. Editor, be pleased to submit this paper to Mr. Colburn; and if his hands are too full to embark in the concern, you will give it publicity for the benefit of the trade, by an insertion in some early number of the New Monthly Magazine. M.

TO TIME.

WILT thou not leave a single charm
Of all that now my idol grace,—
No one where, free from change or harm,
The others' likeness I may trace?
Well, take her eye's unearthly blue,
Ay, and her roseate blushes too;
The freshness of her loving lip;
The lightness of her fairy trip;
Steal on, till not a beauty's left,-
I'll laugh at every petty theft.

The soul that kindled up her cheek,
That gave her silent glance to speak,
That made her kiss so warm for him

She doted on, blest heaven! for me,-
That motion'd every beauteous limb

With maiden grace and dignity,—

That soul thou shalt not, canst not, claim;
Nor hurt-it mocks thy deadliest aim.
The spirit which, in youth's full burst

Of feeling, shone throughout her frame,
May shrink from all the deeds accurst
In the world's guilty bosom nurst,

Back to the heart from whence it came;
But ev'n when that hath own'd thy sway,
And thou shalt seek the nobler prey
Within, thy dark intent shall miss;

For, though thou seizest as thine own
The chill and mouldering chrysalis,
Thou 'lt find the butterfly is flown.

PYRAMUS AND THISBE.

A BALLAD.

PYRAMUS and Thisbe, of dashing renown,
Dwelt in houses adjoining in Babylon's town,
And flirted in circles of fashion:

They had vow'd love eternal-squeezed hands at Almack's,
But their cursed crabbed relatives would not relax,
And swore to extinguish their passion.

Ah, but Love is like steam in an engine, inclined
Still the stronger to burst out, the more it's confined.
Parents chuckled in vain at their art in
Bribing spies who reported a parce! of flams;

So to watch them with house-maids and valet de shams,
It was all in my eye Betty Martin !

Love-letters between them in walnut-shells pass'd,
Though, alas, wicked jaws crack'd the secret at last,
Then, O Lord, what a rumpus was brew'd up!
What carpeting, storming, hysterics, and prayers,

Tears and rummaging trunks! till the young folks up-stairs
Were in garrets respectively mew'd up.

'Twas a harsh step, no doubt, that the homes of their sires
Were made bridewells for bridling their bridal desires,
And a justification here isn't meant ;

But the Habeas Corpus had just been put down,
And no lawyer would budge in all Babylon's town

For a writ 'gainst their wrongous imprisonment.

Night came and no nightingale sang o'er their heads,
But the cats squawl'd duets among chimneys and leads,
And the owls kept toowhooing and staring;
In her chamber poor Thisbe lay weeping a flood,
While Pyramus in his, damn'd the old people's blood,
In soliloquies cursing and swearing.

At last, like old Bajazet, rising in rage,

And resolved with his brains to bespatter his cage,
Headforemost he dash'd; but the gable
Was not battery-proof for a skull-piece so new
And so solidly built that it fairly went through
Bricks as old as the building of Babel.

The Lady at first, you may guess, got a shock,
That a gentleman's head at her chamber should knock,
And so unceremoniously enter,

Like a thief on the pillory hanging his phiz ;-
Recognizing at length by the rush-light 'twas his,

"Lord," she cried, " what a charming adventure!

"Yet oh, Mister Pyramus, dearest of lambs,

What a blow for your skull! 'twould have broken a ram's ;
Let me fetch you some eau de Cologne for 't."—

"No, no, sweetest Thisbe, sit down tête à tête,

And a smack from your lips for the smack on my pate
Will be far more acceptable comfort."

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Now to paint all the kissing and holey delights
That took place at this holey partition o' nights,

Might, perhaps, seem to some folks improper;
So I've only to note, where the bricks had been broke,
That the damsel by day-time suspended her cloak,

And the youth hung his old flannel wrapper.

Thus woo'd they in attics-but somehow their taste
Was not Attic enough for two attics so placed;
And their hearts growing ardent as Ætna,
They began to converse about parsons and rings,
Post-chaises, and such other rapturous things,-
In a word, of eloping to Gretna.

All things being managed by means of a nurse,
With her muff and her monkey, and cash in her purse,
From an old sentimental attorney,

Little Thisbe one moon-shiny morning at three
Whipt away to the sign of the Mulberry-tree,

Half a mile out of town for their journey.

Now here let me state, (for in matters of fact
It is right to be plain, conscientious, exact,)
You must pin not a tittle of faith on
Old Ovid's narration--but mine 's to be met
In a genuine antique Babylonish gazette
That was publish'd by Sanchoniathon.

But to follow my story-conceive her despair
When arrived at the inn and no Pyramus there,
Nor a light in the whole habitation;

Not a pair, nor a post-chaise to drive them from town,
Not a boy on the saddle to bob up and down-
Do you wonder she wept with vexation?

While thus in the coach-yard bewailing her pickle,
The tears of the damsel continued to trickle,
As salt as a mine-spring of Cracow,

Outsprang a chain'd mastiff-affrighted she ran,
While away went her wits, and her muff and her fan,
And away went unfortunate Jacko.

Poor pug was soon eat up, and so would the muff,
If its wadding and fur had been eatable stuff,

But 'twas torn and the spot was still bloody,
When the youth of her soul, whose unhappy delay
Had been caused by his drinking some wine by the way,
Arrived with his brains rather muddy.

All was hush'd (for the dog having sated his maw,
Laid his jowls very quietly down in the straw)

When Pyramus halloo'd out, "There lies

Both the blood and the muff of my mistress so sweet!"-
She, to tell you the truth, had slipt down a by-street,
To escape from the Cyprians and Charlies.

A groom on a bulk, who had during the death
Of poor pug slept as sound as the grooms in Macbeth,
Woke at length;-but small comfort he gave, he
Had no doubt that the young lady's blood had been shed,
But that he had not injured a hair of her head

He was ready to make affidavy.

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