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handfu'-but at last he gaed out o' rheumaticks, will ye hae the kindness just to rin out for a coach to me? I'll be very muckle obliged to you, Mr Jamphler; it's but a step yonder to whar the coaches are biding on outlook."

this life like the snuff o' a candle. Howsomever, Mr Jamphler, being, as I was saying, left a widow-it's a sair thing, Mr Jamphler, to be a widowI had a' to do, and my father having left me, among other things, o' my bairns' part of gear-for the Barwullupton gaed, as ye ken, to my auld brother the laird, that married Miss Jenny Ochiltree o' the Mains; a very ereditable connection, Mr Jamphler, and a genteel woman-she can play on the spinnet, Mr Jamphler. But no to fash you wi' our family divisions -amang other things, there was on my bit grund a kill and a mill, situate on the Crokit burn, and I lent the kill to a neighbour to dry some aitsAnd, Mr Jamphler, O what a sight it was to me the kill took low, and the mill likewise took wi't, and baith gied just as ye would say a crakle, and nothing was left but the bare wa's and the steading. Noo, Mr Jamphler, wha's to answer for the damage? How sumever, Mr Jamphler, as I can see that it's no an aff-hand case, I'll bid you gude day, and ye'll consider o't again the morn, when I'll come to you afore the Lords in the ParliamentHouse."

"Good Heavens !" exclaimed Mr Jamphler, while Mrs Ogle of Balbogle, rising and going towards the window, cried, "O! Mr Jamphler, the coach that brought us here I would na come but in a coach to Mr Jamphler-But it's gone O! Mr Jamphler, as I'm a wee o' a lamiter wi' the

Mr Jamphler rung the bell, and ordered his servant to fetch instantly a coach.

"But, Mr Jamphler," resumed Mrs Ogle of Balbogle; "I hae another favour to ask, ye maun ken I'm sometimes tormented wi' that devilry they call the tooth-ache; are ye acquaint wi' ony doctor that can do me good?"

Mr Jamphler immediately mentioned our friend and correspondent, the Odontist.-"Eh!" said Mrs Ogle of Balbogle," the famous Doctor Scott! But whar does he bide, Mr Jamphler?” The urbane counsellor mentioned his address. "Ah! but, Mr Jamphler, ye maun write it down-for I hae but a slack memory." Mr Jamphler did so immediately; but the lady, on looking at the paper, said, “Na, na, Mr Jamphler, that winna do-I canna read Greek-ye maun pit it in broad Scotch-I'm nane of your novel leddies, but Mrs Ogle o' Balbogle." Jamphler was in consequence obliged to write the address more legibly, and the coach coming to the door, the lady and her daughter withdrew. Mr Jamphler then joined the company in the drawing-room, and soon after the young lady, in propria persona, with the Odontist's address in her hand, was announced as Mrs Ogle of Balbogle.

Mr

AN EXPOSTULATORY LETTER TO C. NORTH, ESQ.

Concerning certain Parts of his past Conduct.

MR NORTH, I wonder how it is that you can allow any of your contributors to defend you from the silly outcries against Maga; and I wonder more, how any person should be so absurd as to suppose such a defence necessary. Defend what? The work, the opus magnum, which, after having put down all the rascally Whig population," has proceeded, in its strength, to introduce a new mode of thinking, and of writing, on philosophy, politics, and polite letters. Perish the thought, that one pen should be drawn to defend that which is impregnable-which, rejoicing in its own

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might, laughs at the applause of friends, and the threats of enemies. The person who could suppose such a thing, must have had his mind blinded by the brightness of its pages; and he who would attempt to wipe off: any of its fancied faults, reminds me of one who holds up a farthing candle to aid the blaze of the noon-day sun, because some misty spots may have appeared upon it. Really some of your contributors must have been greatly dazzled-they must have been seeing objects double-before they could think that any of the dirty aspersions of your enemies. required a serious an

swer. No! I cannot but conceive of you as a conqueror going forth in your might, and whatever enemy you meet, you straightway array yourself, and do him battle with his own wea pons:-The pert infidel Reviewer you overthrow with his boasted satire; the Anti-English Reformer you overwhelm with honest argument; and the immoral Cockneys you silence with the frown of your virtuous scorn. Is not this the fairest of all warfare? Most certainly it is, and " there is an end of the matter."

This is the reasoning, Christopher, that I would use upon the occasion. And I would go farther than this; I would contend, that, before you appeared upon the field, there was nothing like honest fighting to be found; and that, with the other improvements for which the world is indebted to you, is also to be ranked this, of having settled the mode by which certain pests of society, who, from some offensive quality, reckoned themselves safe from punishment, were to be assailed without hurting the honour of the assailant. Did not the Edinburgh Review consider itself secure in the domination which it had obtained over the opinions of the people, and over the fate of aspirants for literary distinction, until you dared to break through the magic circle that surrounded it, and held up its principles in their true pollution to the world? Did not the Scotsman reckon himself protected by his vulgarity, and by the coarseness of his abuse, until you ventured to expose the darkness of the cave in which the reptile had hid himself, and to shew the total ignorance and malignity by which the creature was directed? Did not the whole host of prating demagogues, who harangue from hustings at seditious assemblies, who scribble in radical newspapers, and who deliver their opinions after the toasts at party dinners, consider themselves safe in their own insignificance, until you taught them, that no sentiment, hostile to our constitution in church or state, could be broached, unnoticed, or unrebuked, while you were the defender of both. These things, Mr Christopher, were not done in a corner; and even your own modesty cannot conceal them. A pretty story, indeed, to begin to defend that, which all the world (worth speaking of) has long

ago confessed was the means of intro ducing the most auspicious era in the history of our land. The only excuse I can find for such conduct is, that, all these people being now put to rest, you have nothing left you to do, but to allow your contributors to tell in what way it has been done.

With this impression, even I myself could, for a moment, dilate upon the subject. How stupendous the idea to look back to the time of your commencement, and to mark the havoc which you have caused in the world! Then, the Whig faction possessed their original strength and insolence, combined with the bitterness of a recent defeat. Then, the organ of their sentiments, and the cause of much of the dissatisfaction that was abroad in the land, was scattering the pestilence of its principles on every side. Then, the herd of disappointed patriots, who had hoped to prosper amidst the ruin of the country, were allowed, without restraint, to shed the venom of their malice upon every one that supported the constituted authorities of the kingdom. Then, sedition and infidelity were going arm in arm, shaking the allegiance of the peer, and destroying the faith of the peasant. Then, was there no defence in the hands of government, and of the well-disposed, but the slow operation of laws, which the quibble of a lawyer might evade, or the political bias of a jury render useless. Then-but why need I go farther-then, in one word, there were publications in the possession of the friends of disorder, which sent forth, every week and every day their calumnies against the most respectable individuals, and the most venerable institutions in the country; while there were few or none to say that these things were base in themselves, and full of danger to the community.

In these circumstances it was that you, Christopher, appeared like a warrior armed for the combat, prepared to stand or to fall in the defence of the constitution. Hitherto the enemy had been allowed to waste himself in the mere admiration of his own daring, and none had ventured to take up the glove which, in the confidence of his own might, he had thrown down. Nay, his tyranny, from being so long endured, had seemed to have been visited with a kind of prescriptive right upon the nation; for though many had

winced, none had dared to oppose it. And if at an hour like this, when the firmest trembled, and the strongest were afraid, you were found to stand up to punish the aggressors, is this the time of day when such things require to be defended?

And are benefits like these to be cast lightly aside, because some dapper gentleman has reckoned himself insulted in the fray, or some old lady in male attire has been shocked at the rough North blast of your satire? Were such persons to suppose that you, in embarking in a cause so great, were to consult their little sensibilities, and mould your conduct according to their puling taste? The nature of the duty which you undertook, apart from every other consideration, rendered such a course impossible; and I know, that in some of the severest chastisements that you have given, you have pitied the sufferer while you applied the rod.

All this looks like defence; but as such I by no means intend it. I began with remonstrance; and though I have wandered somewhat, I shall speedily return.

Why should you, Mr North, allow your contributors to fret themselves with the outcries of your enemies, when you know well that the last means of defence that instinct offers to those in distress, is to call out in bitterness of spirit? This, believe me, Christopher, is all the noise that ever was or ever will be made; for it is all humbug to say that these are loyal people who are finding fault, or are offended. There may indeed be a few unhappy persons, that usurp to themselves such a name, who vacillate between two parties, and are afraid to connect themselves with either-who, from constitutional indecision, know not into which lap to cast their lot. There may be a few of such, who hesitate to join interests with your's. And more than this, there may be some who have hung their fame upon some lumbering periodical, that wishes to stand fair with government, and at the same time have a sneaking eye to the mob ;-some who have felt their popularity eclipsed by the brightness

of your pages; and it is quite proper for these to complain. The feeling is so natural, that it would be manifest cruelty to repress it, especially as it looks so very pretty in one author to call out against the immoderate conduct of another. But because all this takes place, must it be said that the Tories make an outcry against Maga? No, Mr North; that man is unwor thy of the name, who is not prepared to go every length in defence of that glorious constitution under which he was born; who is not ready to sacrifice all that is nearest and dearest to him, before he allows one corner of it to be rubbed away, or one mark of impurity to be left to soil it. With such a man, no half-measures are to be adopted. If an enemy appear against our constitution in church or state, that enemy is to be silenced, though every chicken-hearted associate should tremble, and every wavering adherent cross himself, and prepare for his departure. The Whigs may, and must call out against such things; to do so, has become, of late, a part of their na ture-of their constitution, from the remembrance of what they themselves have suffered; but let it never be said, that there is one true Tory that can thus be found to flinch in the hour of danger. If there are such, write them down as Whigs, or worse, as interested persons; for the man who truly respects his king and his country, will also honour the instrument that protected these in the hour of their greatest peril. Yes, I remember well, when danger was abroad in the land, with what wonder many looked to you, Mr Christopher, standing alone and un aided, in this part of the country at least, opposing your single arm, to prevent the spread of infidelity and of anarchy. And if others now appear upon your side, has it not been since the extremity of the contest has gone past? Has it not been to share the spoil when the foe is overcome?

Believe me to be your's always,
A TRUE TORY.

Angus, 1st October, 1821.

CHAUCER AND DON JUAN.

THERE are some books which, however excellent, a man may make up his account to read but once in his life. And even that once, more for the sake of bringing a general idea of their spirit to the contemplation of literature, than for any actual pleasure their beauties may afford. Among this class may be reckoned Chaucer; the perception of whose peculiar excellence depends so much on understanding the spirit, as well as the idiom of the age in which he lived, that a re-perusal, after any intervening length of time, can give but little pleasure, if it be not accompanied with an inconvenient portion of trouble.

Notwithstanding all the research and acuteness spent upon the writings of Chaucer, little facility of acquaintance with him has been afforded to the general reader. Tyrwhitt's edition, besides being expensive, is more an object to the philologist than to the general scholar; and, after all, contains but a small portion of the poet's works. Speght and Urry are not to be relied on. Warton is judicious and learned, but a digressive and vexatious guide. Godwin's idea was an excellent one ;that of giving a picture of the age, with the poet for its prominent figure. But it turned out a most unwieldy and unsatisfactory brace of quartos, contemptible in criticism-absurd and visionary in its inferences from factsand altogether unworthy of the genius of the biographer. The restless gloom

of the philosophic idealist overcasts the page, which might have been the light and elegant memorial of the poet. And instead of dissertation and inquiry concerning these most frightful of all chapter-heads-the feudal system, and the middle ages-we might have been presented with a narrative suitable to the gay and mercurial temper of its subject.

Considering all this, we really are surprised to find ourselves turning over the pages of Chaucer; but somehow or other, we recollected having found in his verses that mixed quality of humour and feeling, which has of late become so popular. We have been dunned on all sides by the names of Byron and Juan; and when the blues had traced higher, by those of Pulci and Tassoni, as if banter and fun in rhyme, were any thing wonderful or new.

Disgusted by the charlatan exhibition of Byron in Don Juan-his tossing up his feelings to public view, and catching them as they fell, writhing on the prongs of ridicule-we treated the production in a tone which enhanced its merit a great deal too much. It is admired, and so will any book that sets one half the world laughing at the other. But to the merit of originating the serio-comic style, or even of introducing it first to English literature, the noble author has no claim. We possessed it long before the age of either his lordship or Pulci. We have it in our own old English poet Chaucer, and

As a specimen of the mode of inference adopted in these volumes, we may mention the proof of Chaucer's father having been a merchant; which, of course, necessitates an inquiry into the lives and habits of the mercantile people of that age. First, Chaucer was born in London, by his own confession. Hence,

"It renders it extremely probable that London was the abode of his tender years, and the scene of his first education. So much is not unlikely to be implied in his giving it the appellation of the place in which he was forth growen.' Lastly, as he is in this passage assigning a reason why, many years after, (in his 56th year,) he interested himself in the welfare, and took a part in the dissensions of the metropolis, it may, with some plausibility, be inferred, that his father was a merchant; and that he was himself, by the circumstances of his birth, entitled to the privileges of a citizen."-Vol. I. p. 4. Again, the following quotation from the conclusion of the Assemblé of Foules,

"I woke, and other bokes took me to,
To rede upon, and yet I rede alway,"

gives rise to the following grandiloquent remarks:

"This couplet deserved to be quoted as an evidence of the poet's habits. We have here Chaucer's own testimony, that he was a man of incessant reading, and literary curiosity; and that even at thirty years of age, and amidst the allurements of a triumphant and ostentatious court, one of the first and most insatiable passions of his mind, was the love of books."-Vol. I. p. 445.

in perfection. He knew and practised fully the secret of his lordship's wit, which amounts simply to this: when he is at a loss for a rhyme, be he ever so serious, to go into the comic for it, rather than remould the line. The Canterbury Tales abound in specimens, as of the Frere.

"Curteis he was, and lowly of servise, Ther n'as no man nowher so vertuous; He was the best begger in all his hous."

And in the fine and spirited description of the Temple of Mars, so much admired by Warton and other critics, he could not resist being carried away by his love of the ludicrous :"Ther saw I first the derke imagining Of felonie, and all the compassing; The cruel ire, red as any glede, The pikepurse, and eke the pale drede, The smiler, with the knife under the cloke, The sleper, brenning with the blacke smoke, The treson of the mordring in the bedde, The open warre, with woundes all bebledde, The sleer of himself yet saw I there, His herte-blood hath bathed all his hair, The naile ydriven in the shode anyght, The colde-deth, with mouth gaping upright, Yet saw I brent the shippe's hoppesterres, The hunt ystrangled with the wilde beres, The sow freting, the child right in the cradle,

The coke yscalled for all his long ladel."

Some of these sudden quirks and changes terribly afflict the grave spirit of Mr Godwin, who laments most piteously that the poet should use such an expression as the following to the delicate Creseide,

"But whether that she children had or none,

I rede it nat, therefore I let it gone." Through all his works, indeed, this melodramatic feeling prevails, but especially in the Troilus and Creseide, a Poem, which, in its good and its bad qualities, very much resembles Don Juan, besides being nearly in the same stanza. Of its resemblance with respect to the quality we speak of, take the following random specimens:

"This Diomed, as bokes us declare,

Was in his nedes prest and corageous, With stern voice, and mighty limmes square,

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Hardy and testife, strong and chevalrous,
Of dedes, like his father Tydeus.
And some men sain he was of tonge large;
And heire he was of Calydon and Arge."

"She sobre was, simple, and wise withall,
The best inorished, eke, that might be;
And godely of hire speche in gencrall,
Charitable, estately, lusty, and fre,
Ne never more ne lacked hire pite,
But truely I can nat tell hire age.
Tendrehearted and sliding of corage;

The reputation of Chaucer has suffered much from having his Canterbury Tales put forward, lauded, and edited singly, to the prejudice of his other works. They may be allowed to be the wittiest body of poetry in our language-unrivalled in comic description, observation, and life, but they are greatly deficient in sentiment and feeling. In spite of the array of critics against us, from Warton to Godwin, we will maintain that the love-quarrels of Palamon and Arcite are childish and frigid in the extreme-its pathetic" well-a-waies" more ludi-: crous than affecting-and the tale it-, self the very antidote to any thing like sympathy. The far-famed Griseldis, with the exception of a few passages, we cannot help thinking a most pointless and unnatural story; and we rejoice, in the very teeth of Warton's lamentation, that Canace and her magic ring were cut off in the flower of their commencement. The poet wrote them, it is said, in "his green old age," and we could have conjectured as much. We in vain seek in them for the natural and warm feelings which abound in his earlier works, particularly in the Troilus and Creseide, while we have in their place nothing but pedantry confirmed-cold paraphrases from Boethius, and Seneca, and bombastic descriptions from Statius and Ovid. In the Knightes Tale, he describes his personages as a dwarf would a giant, or as a cringing herald would his feudal lord,-at a distance, and in due humility-stiff in dialogue, and frigid in soliloquy. In his Troilus, on the contrary, the poet is at his ease, and enters into the depth and minuteness of feeling, as if he was at liberty to choose his heroes from among his fellow mortals, and treat them as such. Troilus's first sight of Creseide, "in habite blacke," going to the temple,

"N'as never sene thing to be praised so derre,

Nor under cloude blacke so bright a sterre." And his first entertaining the passion for her is highly characteristic, and quite in the easy penetrating style of the Italian octave rhymers :

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