A

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bookseller, "take it home with you, and return it me, if you please, to-morrow."

The next day the bookseller waited, impatiently, for the arrival of his literary friend; who, when he appeared, returned him his copy, saying, "I am very much mortified to give you such unpleasant intelligence, but it is what you must be ac quainted with. My good friend, you have

is detestable: or, rather, I think this is a trick that some one has designedly played upon you. The first part seems written with an affectation of elegance-indeed, the first pages are charming; but it soon sinks into the most flat stupidity, and so continues to the end. I can tell you more; the events are nothing else than a repetition of Pharamond and Cleopatra. In a word, it is the work of some revengeful author, who fancies he has some cause of complaint against you. Examine your memory: have not you, by chance, given some one among these gentry, reason to be dissatified with you? It is a question which may be put to a great many of you booksellers."-"No," replied the bookseller; "I do not suspect that any author has written this work, unless it is a little

bargain was then made: the bookseller || ing the whole work."-" Well," said the became master of Siroës and Mirame, and the bearer carried off the money, with a bill for the remaining two hundred crowns. As soon as the bookseller was left alone, he sat down to count the pages of the manuscript; and judging that there would be enough for two duodecimo volumes, be congratulated himself for having made such a good day's work. "I will," said he to himself, "have two thousand copies print-been imposed upon. Your Persian history ed; and it will be scarcely published before I shall have it re-printed; seven or eight months after, at furthest, I shall be obliged to begin again: for when once the elegance of the work becomes known, it will be run after like wildfire. Happy the booksellers who get hold of works like these! This is the way to be enabled to keep a town and a country-house."-Thus || feeding his sanguine hopes, he began to read the manuscript with delight; crying out, every moment, "How beautiful that idea! Although I am not the first genius in the world, I cannot avoid finding out that this style is absolutely divine. How easy it is to see that it is not an author by profession, that has composed this romance. It must be confessed, that people of quality write with a peculiar kind of dignity." While he was thus overjoyed at his bar-lame Abbé, whose book I printed and pubgain, a literary character came in, whom he generally consulted on those works that he intended to have printed: a bookseller generally has about him a man of letters, as a superintendant of his manuscripts.- || sell." "Ah! Sir," said the bookseller to him, you are come, just apropos, to felicitate me on the acquisition of this copy, which, as I am informed, is written by a lady belonging to the court, and which I am not inclined to disbelieve, on finding the language so flowing."'—" Let me see," replied || the literary gentleman, looking at the romance, “let me see if you have cause to be so prepossessed in favour of this manuscript "-He then read over the beginning, which was well written, and which he did not fail to admire. He was so much pleas-lieve that the work was written by a lady

lished at my own expence, and who was to have shared with me the profits; and I know he fancies that I do not give him an exact account of the number of copies I

"You have hit the right nail on the head," said the man of letters; "you need not look farther for the author of Siroës and Mirame. But why did you buy this manuscript before you had given it me to read? You should, at least, have told him who brought it you, to wait for your de termination a few hours. You would not then have been so duped."—"I was wrong, I was wrong, it is true," said the bookseller; "I own I have been guilty of imprudence and stupidity. I was led to be

of quality; and I gave into the scheme, like a fool. However," continued he, "since the fault is committed, let us say no more about it. Keep my secret; for if my bro

A ed with it, that he said, "This prose is ex-
Acellent-it is beautiful; if the subject an-
1 swers to the style, you have not made a
He bad bargain. The commencement is so
Neat ateresting, that I am very desirous of read-thers of the trade should hear of this

Αν

And L

No.

128

adventure, they will only turn me into ridicule. I shall pay the bill when it becomes due, without saying a word, and 1 shall send Siroës and Mirame immediately to press; it will not be the first bad work

I have published, nor, please God, the last; I shall, at least, make by it what it cost me, since the vilest trash among books always finds some fool or other to be a purchaser." S. G.

ORIGINAL LETTER FROM MR. EDMUND BURKE TO A POOR ARTIST OF GENIUS AT YORK.

Beaconsfield, Oct. 1, 1786.

which are many, and some of them lucrative. I shall certainly, therefore, when we meet in town next winter, recommend you to the academy-to Sir Joshua Reynolds, provided your progress in drawing be such as will entitle you to learn there and we shall talk on the further steps you are to take.

SIR,-I am much obliged to you for your letter from York, and for your receiving so kindly the trifling accommodation that it fell in my way, by accident, to afford you: I should, however, be exceedingly concerned, if it should become the means of raising in your mind expectations which it may not be in my power to an- Your communicating your ideas to me swer; and of inducing you to engage in in so open and friendly a manner, will, I pursuits, which all your abilities and in- || hope, justify the liberty I take, in recomdustry may not enable you to succeed in. mending to you to put a little restraint on My circumstances are such as oblige me to your imagination, relative to your views in keep within narrow bounds, and will not life. The spirit of enterprize and advensuffer me to shew that countenance to ta- ture I certainly do not mean wholly to lents, which I wish to shew whenever I damp, as it is the source of every thing meet them. Your case, I assure you, is one which improves and adorns society: but, of those that make the reserves which at the same time, it is, more frequently, the prudence and justice indispensably require, cause of the greatest disappointments, misomewhat painful to me. Not being able series, and misfortunes; and, sometimes, to undertake to support you in your studies even of dangerous immoralities. You seem as a painter, I cannot, in conscience and to feel too much disgust at humble, but honour, encourage you to abandon wholly honest, situations in life, and to form too the business to which you are bred, and slight an opinion of those whom the order which is a very reputable trade. I do not, of Providence has destined to those situahowever, mean at all to discourage you tions. This is a serious mistake, whether from the study of design, so far as it is com- it regards the happiness or the virtue of patible with that employment, which must men, which are neither of them much less be the foundation of your support, and your in one condition than in another. Your retreat, in case your progress in the arts, own happiness is deeply concerned, in not or the encouragement you meet with, should giving yourself over too much to the guidnot answer our mutual wishes. Whether ance of your imagination. You will exyou can ever arrive at sufficient eminence, cuse the liberty I take, as proceeding from as a painter, to answer any good purpose, my very good wishes for you; and you will must be, in a great measure, uncertain.— do me the favour to believe me, Sir, your But, at any rate, whatever progress you most obedient and humble servant, make in design, though not sufficient to accomplish you as a painter, cannot fail of being of very great advantage in all those trades that are conversant in decoration,

EDMUND BURKE.

Inclose this to Mr. Carr, of York, upon whom you will wait as soon as you can.

FUGITIVE POETRY.

Whose blush cau shame, whose panic can repel : The wild bird had its cozy nest,

Which makes ev'n venerable West quite jea- The beams of that beautiful star,

doscope, her eye-glass, her silver box of || ventress of a corset, not many miles from pine-apple pastiles, &c. that what can she possibly do with a fan ?

St. James's-street, with whom I have no personal acquaintance, and no interest whatever to make me "boast her off;" but I have seen shapes so admirably improved by the graceful and easy appearance in those female forms that have adopted them, that I cannot forbear earnestly recommend

A word or two concerning fashionable corsets will not, it is hoped, be taken amiss by my fair and indulgent readers, ere I close these remarks. They were frightful when they forced the bosom to ascend to the chin: the fashion was, in itself, detri-ing them to every one who wishes to premental to health, and contrary to all the rules of beauty and symmetry. In the mean time, it is very difficult for a pretty woman to lay aside a fashion which, how. ever absurd, she may fancy adds to the grace of her figure. I could name the in

serve the graceful contour she may have received from nature, or to amend the shape where that overruling power has been less kind. MARCUS.

MONTHLY MISCELLANY;

INCLUDING VARIETIES CRITICAL, LITERARY, AND HISTORICAL.

THE THEATRES.

DRURY-LANE.

THE following occasional address was spoken by Mr. H. Johnston at the opening of this Theatre :

Once more old Drary now her standard rears,
Sustain'd by hopes, yet not exempt from fears;
Internal feuds have check'd her onward course,
And law has interpos'd its awful force :
But concord here, we trust, will soon revive,
And for your smiles with emulation strive.
Fashion, we know, is stronger e'en than law,
And all mankind can in her circle draw:
To novelty, her stamp such power conveys,
la vain may genius spread its splendid rays;
In cold neglect its brightest beams may fade,
Lost in obscurity's o'erwhelming sbade.
But shall the spot where Garrick rais'd his name,
In mingling radiance with his Shakespeare's

fame

Where Siddons, tragedy's unrivall'd queen,
As nature vivid, dignify'd the scene-
Where Sheridan, our boast, who all admit
A second Congreve, in the realms of wit,
Enrich'd those realms with humour that shall
live,

And polish'd mirth to latest ages give :
Two the "fell Serjeant Death" has borne away,
The third has abdicated scenic sway-
Yet still their spirits hover o'er the place,
With reason, truth and energy to grace;
Shall these, so long admir'd, to fashion yield,
And talents droop on the deserted field?
No-taste, upheld by you, with noble pride,
Shall fashion scorn, or lead to merit's side;
No still this spot to mem'ry shall be dear,
And rising genius find protection here.

The reduction of the prices was as great an attraction, perhaps, as the novelty of a new Romeo and Juliet: whichever cause operated, the house was filled to its topmost beuch. Mr. H. Kemble was the new Romeo, and plays much in the style of Mr. C. Kemble. Juliet was a young lady, her first appearance; her figure is good, her voice articulate and pleasing, and she is young; she performed her part with feeling.

COVENT-GARDEN.

THIS Theatre opened with Macbeth; the chief attraction was a Mrs. Yates, in the character of Lady Macbeth: her eminent deficiency is that of feeling, and her performance is-spoilt by its hardness and austerity. Her whole manner and deportment evince a thorough knowledge of the stage; her action is easy, and unembarrassed; and her voice agreeable. The interlude of Personation introduced our favourite, Mrs. C. Kemble, again to an admiring audience.

ENGLISH OPERA.

CUMBERLAND's comedy of The Brothers has been revived at this Theatre, in a threeact drama called The Privateer. The audience, and ourselves amongst them, were particularly delighted with the subjugation of Lady Dove, a thorougli-paced shrew, tyrannizing over a husband infinitely to