In conclusion, we must say a word or two on the general character and features of our Magazine. Politics, in any shape or kind, we have already intimated, we shall strictly and pertinaciously avoid; while Literature, in its widest acceptation, shall be industriously cultivated. Light and lively essays on subjects of general and local interest, tales, poetry, with a correct and carefully-selected summary of news, and an especial attention to matters of Colonial importance, will constitute the principal features of the HOBART TOWN MONthly MagazINE. We shall not rest satisfied with making it une boutique de verbiage—a mere word shop; nor shall we cram it with empty nonsense, the mugitus labyrinthi, as Juvenal terms it. We shall endeavour to render it wholesome and palatable; and, as we have had some experience in affairs of this kind "at home," we may be reasonably supposed to know something of the mode of doing so. There is plenty of materiel in the country, and we shall omit no opportunity, and spare no expense, in collecting and gathering it in. ADVICE TO A YOUNG ESSAYIST. This is such a scribbling age, that almost every young gentleman and lady, with (or without) even a moderate education, occasionally indulge in the practice of the cacoëthes scribendi; and, whatever may be the result of their lucubrations as regards the public, it is very certain that as regards themselves, they-the lucubrations, to wit,-are considered in no trivial light, for Lord Byron is not the only person, who opines, that "Tis something, sure, to see one's name in print,- In England, indeed, a taste for light literature is greatly promoted by the periodical press; and it is a happy circumstance that genius and literary merit find there a ready mart for their products. The friendless, the obscure, and the indigent youth may acquire friends, (that is, friends good enough for all practical purposes-I speak not of Pyladeans)- -may spurn the low grounds of obscurity, and rise from indigence to independence, by the labors of that little instru 66 ment, a grey goose quill." He who, by the sweet influence of his birth-star, has a motive purely intellectual-who, by the merit, or iniquity, or good fortune of his ancestors, is placed above these sublunary considerations-he, to whomever love of fame "That last infirmity of noble minds." is the sole (oh! happy, happy he!) incentive, may attain the object of his pursuit, even by so light and simple a thing as a feather! To such, the pueri ingenuique et nobiles of this Colony, I address. myself especially to the former class; first, because I have a fellowfeeling for that class in particular; and, second, because the other class is in some measure independent of the press, although equally anxious, perchance, to be connected with it. As an essayist, I have had, myself, some experience; probably more than is usual even with your professed scribbler, having been some years since a supervisor of essays-in fact, an editor. I am thus not ill-qualified to give advice upon the subject, and moreover, feel a brother's wish to assist, as far as I am able, those who are, now, what I once was-inexperienced, unknown, and retiring. I would premise, however, that I am not about to propose a regular recipe for the composition of an essay; the following observations have nothing to do with the materiel of essay-writing, but pre-suppose its existence in the mind or the memory of the novice. My counsel merely regards a few mechanical things, which, being observed, would facilitate the progress of the essayist. If he be endowed with surpassing genius, or enriched with superior learning, he may, with some reason, despise the advice I offer; but before. he does so, let him be morally certain, that he has one at least of the above qualifications. Perhaps, it will be a more impressive method to give my reader some hints of how I proceeded, myself, upon first tumbling upon society, like a drop of rain from the maternal bosom of its cloud into the boundless and indifferent ocean. I emanated in the year 18-, from the learned ignorance of the University of and went to London, without the knowledge and against the probable wish of my friends. There I had not one friend-not even an acquaintance upon whose advice or assistance I could rely. Perhaps there never was a human being, worthy the name of a reasonable creature, less fitted than I was to contend with the world. Altogether ignorant of men and manners -of most unprepossessing phrase and address-of scrupulous and slowly-opening faculties, upon which a subject dawns long, long before the full mental day-light clothes it in perfect brightness; these, and many other circumstances, which I omit to mention, rendered me peculiarly unfit to buffet my way through the sturdy ranks, which block up the road to preferment. When I mention these particulars, it is merely to show that perseverance and the exercise of a little judgment will enable a man to overcome more obstacles than I hope, present themselves to any whom I am now especially addressing. Before this journey, I had seldom used my pen, though I had some inward presentiments, that if even the necessity came, I could use it; the sweet, small voice of vanity, I suppose, whispered this in my ear. Upon reaching London, another young man of more confidence in his own powers, would have immediately dashed at a Magazine or a Review; nor do I condemn such a course, it may suit with some tempers, although it did not with mine. I made my first essay in a humble but respectable weekly periodical, as a gratuitous contributor; my papers were inserted, and my labors encouraged by salutary praise. Thanks, however, and even praises, were poorer diet than the chamelion's, for they were not as substantial as air, being given in print. I sent a tale, something of the romantic kind, to a Magazine-it was refused. I sent another to another; this, also, was returned with a complimentary letter, -the thoughts were too refined, the subject too abstracted, in other respects it was, &c. &c. Three or four other papers met with the same (I have no doubt meritorious) fate. In a kind of hysterical fit of dispair, I wrote a humorous letter of reproach to the editor. The difficulty, under my circumstances-(and the reader will recollect that they were almost terrific, for having quitted my family, pride forbade my return) the difficulty of bending up my spirits to a feat of jocularity was, as may well be supposed, tremendous: I did it, however, with Macbeth's "fatal vision" flitting before my eyes, and its point turned against my own breast.-I did it, notwithstanding my letter was answered cautiously, (for I believe the circumstances under which it was written, had tinged it with something bordering on wildness,) but upon the whole, very favorably. To this reed I clung. I had now another chance, and resolved not to throw it away; the bird that dwells amid the shades of Parnassus, like the dove of the ark, had brought me a hope branch, and from that moment, I knew that I should not die. I now began to consider—and here I would beg the young essayist's most serious attention-that as yet, in all my attempts at composition, I had written knowingly and premeditately, what could not live beyond the day. I had aspired merely to equal the general run of essays, which I read promiscuously; never reflecting that I had a character to make;never reflecting that I had to fight up against the illegibility of written-hand, and the unwillingness of an editor to give himself the trouble of decyphering, what probably would not repay him the pleasure. I determined to write something which—(to compare small things with great) as Milton says, "the world should not willingly let die." I pursued my determination inflexibly; though in considerable embarrassments, delaying my piece till it was finished to my satisfaction, (as far as an insatiable desire of perfection is satisfiable) and succeeded to my wishes. From a review of all these circumstances, the first point of my advice is this;-that the incipient essayist should write with a view to the durability of his composition; he should write, not as if he merely wished his piece to be so good, that it might procure him a few guineas and an engagement, but so good, that it may be remembered with applause, after he himself in his mortal form, is trampled in the dust, and mingled with the dishonorable clay of sordid worldlings. I do not mean to say that he will attain this immortality; but unless he writes with a view to it, it is ten to one that his piece will never succeed. Editors are generally men of reading and talent themselves; they are accustomed to meet with fine writing in print, good writing is a common drug to them. Hence a written contribution, merely equal to what they find in print every day, will appear much worse, and be accordingly rejected. : Secondly I made the life-and-death paper, which I speak of, as short as I possibly could. Let the probationer attend to this; I can assure him, from my own experience-and from that of others, who have exercised similar editorial functions-that a long contribution almost damns itself. In the first place, among the accumulated variety, of shorter pieces, which crowd an editor's table, the larger are inevitably postponed to the very latest and most weary perusal. For who would subject himself willingly to the task of reading half a dozen letter-paper sheets of Milton or Shakspeare in English hieroglyphic? And if he did read them, would not the task be very irksome, and the merits be seen, as through a glass, very darkly? What then must be the case, with a writer of this degenerate age, a petty contributor of the modern size of mind! The paper above mentioned occupied but three pages of print. And another consideration should be, that lengthy diatribes are incompatible with the limited dimensions of a Magazine. Thirdly I wrote the said paper in as pain and legible a character as my pen could delineate, on ruled paper, without blot, blemish, or error. I carefully erased every mistaken word with a penknife, and wrote its substitute with a finely-nibbed pen; so as that the whole should read fluently. There are some persons, who cannot write well, either from habitual carelessness, want of instruction, or natural defect of eye and mechanical power. Such persons, I would strongly advise to have their pieces copied out by a capable friend, or even a regular copyist. It affects an editor with a sensation of ineffable disgust, when he opens an unsightly, unreadable scrawl-not to speak of the real difficulty of collecting the sense, and estimating the quantity of genius therein contained. Let the essayist also, fold up his letter and communication neatly, but not foppishly; and let it have the show of a gentlemanly and an elegant correspondence. The essayist may assure himself there is more in this, trifling as it may seem, than can well be described. I should not recommend it to his notice, were I not aware from experience of its necessity. Nor let any one say,-"Who would be determined by such mechanical merits ?" Probably no one, at least no man of sense. But though he may not be determined, he may be inclined one way or the other by their presence or absence. I ask the objector-does not a well-printed book induce him to examine it, and an ill-printed one discourage him, unless beforehand he knows that the former is worthless and the latter valuable? Besides, is not a gentlemanly style of communication some proof of a cultivated mind? Is it not presumable, that he who writes like a man of breeding thinks like a man of education? If illegible neatness be the fault of imbecility, slovenly plainness is the effect of vulgarity: Let both, therefore, be avoided, but the latter especially. STANZAS. Hail to thee, beautiful bird of spring! Blossoms of fragrance-Pomona's treasure, But who, ere thy sweet strain be ended, Like wither'd leaves on earth extended. Ere summer's ripening corn be golden- |