ingenious expedient to supply the want of shoes, knowing that Mr. Birkin, who loves humour, would himself relish the joke upon a little recollection. Cropdale literally lives by his wit, which he has exercised upon all his friends in their turns. He once borrowed my pony for five or six days to go to Salisbury, and sold him in Smithfield at his return. This was a joke of such a serious nature, that, in the first transports of my passion, I had some thoughts of prosecuting him for horse-stealing; and, even when my resentment had, in some measure subsided, as he industriously avoided me, I vowed I would take satisfaction on his ribs with the first opportunity. One day, seeing him at some distance in the street, coming towards me, I began to prepare my cane for action, and walked in the shadow of a porter, that he might not perceive me soon enough to make his escape; but, in the very instant I had lifted up the instrument of correction, I found Tim Cropdale metamorphosed into a miserable blind wretch, feeling his way with a long stick from post to post, and rolling about two bald unlighted orbs, instead of eyes. I was exceedingly shocked at having so narrowly escaped the concern and disgrace that would have attended such a misapplication of vengeance; but next day Tim prevailed upon a friend of mine to come and solicit my forgiveness, and offer his note, payable in six weeks, for the price of the pony. This gentleman gave me to understand, that the blind man was no other than Cropdale, who, having seen me advancing, and guessing my intent, had immediately converted himself into the object aforesaid. I was so diverted at the ingenuity of the evasion, that I agreed to pardon the offence, refusing his note, however, that I might keep a prosecution for felony hanging over his head, as a security for his future good behaviour; but Timothy would by no means trust himself in my hands till the note was accepted. Then he made his appearance at my door as a blind beggar, and imposed in such a manner upon my man, who had been his old acquaintance and pot-companion, that the fellow threw the door in his face, and even threatened to give him the bastinado. Hearing a noise in the hall, I went thither, and, immediately recollecting the figure I had passed in the street, accosted him by his own name, to the unspeakable astonishment of the footman." Birkin declared he loved a joke as well as another; but asked if any of the company could tell where Mr. Cropdale lodged, that he might send him a proposal about restitution, before the boots should be made away with. "I would willingly give him a pair of new shoes," said he, " and half a guinea into the bargain, for the boots, which fitted me like a glove, and I shan't be able to get the fellows of them till the good weather for riding is over." The stuttering wit declared, that the only secret which Cropdale ever kept was the place of his lodgings; but he believed that, during the heats of summer, he commonly took his repose upon a bulk. "Confound him;" cried the bookseller, "he might as well have taken my whip and spurs: in that case, he might have been tempted to steal another horse, and then he would have rid to the devil of course." After coffee, I took my leave of Mr. S- with proper acknowledgments of his civility, and was extremely well pleased with the entertainment of the day, though not yet satisfied with respect to the nature of this connexion betwixt a man of character in the literary world and a parcel of authorlings, who, in all probability, would never be able to acquire any degree of reputation by their labours. On this head, I interrogated my conductor, Dick Ivy, who answered me to this effect: "One would imagine S - had some view to his own interest, in giving countenance and assistance to those people whom he knows to be bad men as well as bad writers; but, if he has any such view, he will find himself disappointed, for, if he is so vain as to imagine he can make them subservient to his schemes of profit or ambition, they are cunning enough to make him their property in the meantime. There is not one of the company you have seen to-day (myself excepted) who does not owe him particular obligations. One of them he bailed out of a spunging-house and afterwards paid the debt-another he translated into his family and clothed, when he was turned out half-naked from gaol, in consequence of an act for the relief of insolvent debtors—a third, who was reduced to a woollen nightcap, and lived upon sheep's trotters, up three pair of stairs backward, in Butcher Row, he took into present pay and free quarters, and enabled him to appear as a gentleman, without having the fear of sheriff's officers before his eyes. Those who are in distress he supplies with money when he has it, and with his credit when he is out of cash. When they want business, he either finds employment for them in his own service, or recommends them to booksellers, to execute some project he has formed for their subsistence. They are always welcome to his table (which, though plain, is plentiful), and to his good offices as far as they will go; and, when they see occasion, they make use of his name with the most petulant familiarity, nay, they do not even scruple to arrogate to themselves the merit of some of his performances, and have been known to sell their own lucubrations as the produce of his brain. The Scotchman you saw at dinner once personated him at an ale house in West Smithfield, and, in the character of S- had his head broke by a cow-keeper, for having spoke disrespectfully of the Christian religion; but he took the law of him in his own person, and the assailant was fain to give him ten pounds to withdraw his action." I have dwelt so long upon authors, that you will perhaps suspect I intend to enrol myself among the fraternity; but, if I were actually qualified for the profession, it is at best but a desperate resource against starving, as it affords no provision for old age and infirmity. Salmon, at the age of fourscore, is now in a garret, compiling matter at a guinea a sheet for a modern historian, who, in point of age, might be his grandchild; and Psalmanazar, after having drudged half a century in the literary world, in all the simplicity and abstinence of an Asiatic, subsists upon the charity of a few booksellers, just sufficient to keep him from the parish. I think Guy, who was himself a bookseller, ought to have appropriated one wing or ward of his hospital to the use of decayed authors; though, indeed, there is neither hospital, college, or workhouse, within the bills of mortality, large enough to contain the poor of this society, composed, as it is, from the refuse of every other profession. 72.-BIRDS. THE cuckoo,—“ the plain-song cuckoo" of Bottom the weaver,—the "blithe new-comer,” the "darling of the spring," the "blessed bird" of Wordsworth,-the "beauteous stranger of the grove," the "messenger of spring" of Logan, the cuckoo coming hither from distant lands to insinuate its egg into the sparrow's nest, and to fly away again with its fledged ones after their cheating nursing-time is over, little knows what a favourite is her note with schoolboys and poets. Wordsworth's lines to the cuckoo "O blithe new-comer! I have heard, I hear thee and rejoice-" are familiar to all. The charming little poem of Logan, which preceded Wordsworth's, is not so well known: "Hail, beauteous stranger of the grove! Thou messenger of spring! Hast thou a star to guide thy path, The school-boy wandering through the wood Sweet bird! thy bower is ever green, To pull the primrose gay, Starts the new voice of spring to hear, And imitates thy lay. What time the pea puts on the bloom Thou flyest thy vocal vale, An annual guest in other lands, Another spring to hail. Thy sky is ever clear; No winter in thy year! Oh, could I fly, I'd fly with thee! The Swallow has been another favourite of the poets, even from the days of the Greek Anacreon: "Once in each revolving year, Gentle bird! we find thee here; Of Memphis, or the shores of Nile, But "the bird of all birds" is the Nightingale. never heard the "jug-jug" in his northern clime, of songsters: ANACREON, translated by MOORE, Drummond of Hawthornden, though he has left a beautiful tribute to this noblest "Sweet bird, that sing'st away the early hours Milton came after Drummond, with his sonnet to the nightingale : "O Nightingale, that on yon bloomy spray DRUMMOND, In the 'Il Penseroso,' the poet, dramatically speaking, addresses the nightingale :— "Sweet bird, that shunn'st the noise of folly, Most musical, most melancholy!" The general propriety of the epithet has been controverted in one of the most delightful pieces of blank verse in our language :— "No cloud, no relique of the sunken day O'er its soft bed of verdure. All is still: In nature there is nothing melancholy. But some night-wandering man, whose heart was pierced With the remembrance of a grievous wrong, Or slow distemper, or neglected love, (And so, poor wretch! filled all things with himself, And made all gentle sounds tell back the tale Of his own sorrow)-he, and such as he, First named these notes a melancholy strain. And many a poet echoes the conceit; Poet who hath been building up the rhyme When he had better far have stretched his limbs By sun or moonlight, to the influxes Of shapes and sounds and shifting elements My Friend, and thou, our Sister! we have learnt And I know a grove They answer and provoke each other's songs And one low piping sound more sweet than all- That should you close your eyes, you might almost You may perchance behold them on the twigs, A most gentle Maid, Who dwelleth in her hospitable home To something more than Nature in the grove) Glides through the pathways; she knows all their notes, On blossomy twig still swinging from the breeze, And to that motion tune his wanton song Like tipsy joy that reels with tossing head.” COLERIDGE. But the chorus of birds, the full harmony of the grove, is the great charm of a sunny spring time. Old Drayton has made his rough verse musical with the ever-varied songs of the leafy Arden: "When Phoebus lifts his head out of the winter's wave, That from all other birds his tunes should different be, м |