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No. VI-SATURDAY, 10th FEBRUARY, 1827.
GLASGOW AT SIX IN THE MORNING. At this season of the year, how few of my readers know one whit more about the aspect of the city at this period of the day than, until the other morning, I did myself! And yet it is full of interest, and pregnant with materials for thought. The occasion of my being on the street at that hour was a happy one. On a Tuesday evening, a friend of mine assembled around him a large but wellselected party of young and middle-aged-those who had pleasure in dancing, and those who felt the same in looking at others so employed. I shall not, in the meantime, reveal to which of these classes I belonged. Suffice it that it was half past five in the morning before the last of the happy throng prepared for departure, or even thought of sleep. I hate to abridge real pleasure of its scope when I am lucky enough to meet with it; so, although the first to escape from a dull party, I am the last to leave a happy one. There are no more odious creatures in society than those that resolve to be comfortable till — say half-past one, but will not permit themselves, nor any body else, to feel so one minute beyond the time at which they had previously made up their minds to depart, however unforeseen circumstances may have arisen, or unanticipated sociality been excited. It is a species of treason to be the first to break up a merry party, and should be punished by the perpetrators' forfeiting all agreeable invitations, or having M. M. for Mar-Mirth, branded on the wrinkles of their starched foreheads. But enough of this, and of those beaux who dance with all the fair and gay through the early part of the night, and sink into frigid caution as morning approaches, lest they should be obliged to escort the ladies to their, perhaps, distant homes ;-let me describe to the grave, the old, or the lazy, the appearance of a large city like ours,
at an hour when all these classes are comfortably asleep in their beds.
Daylight has not yet broken--for it is February—and there is a freshness in the air that announces the coming light, just as if the very winds which were weary and laggard last night, and laden with heavy mist and moisture, had risen from their cave refreshed and ardent. Breathe!—it is like drinking from a cooling fount to do so, and already the lungs play more freely than amid the many breaths of even beauty in the ball-room. But wrap this kerchief around your tippet's collar, gentle one, for the air is chilly in its freshness. Hark! there is a distant rattle on the causeway. It is not our noddy, for it was dismissed three hours ago. No! I perceive it comes from a country cart, already bringing in the dairy and garden produce to the market. Perchance materials for our breakfast and our dinner are within it. But what means that central line of light, which seems as if in the very middle of the causeway a row of lamps had been placed since last night ? But they are in motion; and now I perceive, by the stream of sound which runs along, that the watchmen stand in line thus, and fire off their intelligence in a volley. Now these gliding star-bearers are clustering together: and now they hasten to deposite these and go to bed, as we will do.-Come! But observe at the Cross a dozen loungers already drawn up“ pipe-smokers" too, they are, and ragged about the elbows, the rogues--so they should be kept away from the “ place where merchants most do congregate." But as it is to be hoped they will have got what they wait for-employment and then their breakfast, before we are fit for any so let them remain. Here come more of the “hardy sons of toil”-ay, and daughters too, 'ifaith, for there are sundry gray cloaks and other muffles, bespeaking womankind. Why, a stream of population is setting both eastward and westward, as the morning bells peal forth their wakening summons. These men, and women, and children, are all hastening from their distant city liomes to those vast piles of brick in the suburbs, where cotton is spun and woven, and there, for twelve hours, they will incessantly labour, eating hastily their scanty meal between, but not retiring to their firesides till late in the evening. Yet they look cheerful, and are mostly clean. Some of the women are obviously wives perhaps mothers too, and leave infants exposed to every casualty which care can alone avert from childhood. It is absolutely necessary to their existence that this deprivation should be; but it is for philanthropy to mitigate it by establishing infant schools in every populous suburb. My mite and my energies await but the co-operation of others to found and foster them.--Hark! the cheery bugle, and see, the blazing lights coming forward. It is Lyon's Independent coach setting off from his cozylooking office-door, with four asleep in the inside, and six, wishing they were so, on the out. They are blessed things, surely, these piles of drab great-coat, and rolls of red a comfort” with which the English bagmen on the roof have muffled themselves up.-Halloo! there comes one with Boots behind him, who has overslept himself. “Boots behind him! why, he has got one in his hand, and runs with one foot on its stocking sole!”—There, he gets in, and an oath from the driver gets out, and off they go to rolls and butter at the Turf Inn, Kilmarnock.
Yon lighted glare across the now darkening streets for the lamps are waxing dim-is from a whisky-shop already opened; and it tempts the shivering passer-by to warm his fingers at its fire, and his stomach with a glass. Well, well!-we drank till five--although it was neguseven let the labourer have his dram. There is another light streaming from windows up one stair. It is from a printing-office, where, during all the watches of the night, while we were dancing merrily, industry and intelligence plied hard, despite of sleep, to prepare the banquet of information and amusement which is spread out with the breakfast cloth before you every day, and especially on each alternate Saturday, when the “ Ant” comes to relish even tongue from Dodd's, or eggs from some kind country cousin's hen-coop!- You are now at home, Madam. Soundly I know you will sleep-even although morning is now beginning to look dimly gray in the east, and promising a lovely day of a precocious spring.--I'll to my study and my cell.
THE HERMIT OF THE WEST.
SPECIMENS OF A SERIES OF NEW READINGS
IN BAILEY AND JOHNSON.-- No. IV. Acrostic.- A copy of verses with but one word of mean
ing in them. Deprived of their initials--they would
be even more endless than they are. Anagram.—That which could make Galen an Angel.
Analysis.-A test even the humility of « The Ant”
cannot save it from, since it must inevitably be
“ considered in parts." Ankle.—A deformity to hide which snow-boots were
invented. Answer.—A boon we cannot possibly accord to one-half
of our Correspondents who ask it. Antithesis.-A point-to attain which, like fox-hunters,
many care not what they leap over. Asbestos.- Whatever substance truth is written upon. Aside.-One word placed beside others, which a drama
tist should never require to write—nor an actor to use. Aphorism.—The preceding article. Attempt-Essay. – Terms banished from modern litera
ture for the crime of modesty, as wit is dismissed on a charge of indecorum. Disquisition and dissertation supply the place of the second of these: the conviction of unquestionable success makes most authors
consider the first as obsolete. Yacht.-A word nineteen times out of twenty mispro nounced before the King's visit to Scotland, which, among other national benefits, amended our orthoepy,
if it increased our pride. Zeal.- The best palliation of error—and the most effi
cient ally of right. Zechin.-Å Turkish coin which Mr. H-me esteems of · more value than Greek bonds. Zenith.-A point at which reputation often tumbles over
a very small stone, Zuinglius.-A name Fame has refused to echo for no
other reason than its harshness-euphony being an
influential consideration with that lady. Zest.-What our readers will read this article with-or
what may follow its perusal: relish and an afternoon's nap having very properly the same word to express both.
THE PICTURE GALLERY.
mond, painted by Brown.
Here on this crag breathe out the panting joy
For, like the Spaniard who the Isthmus crossed
There's but, it seems, a stride from this rude spot
What peace is in the quiet vale between-
Nay, tell me not that this is mimic art-
LETTER From IBRAHAM BEN YUSUF, Merchant in Aleppo, to
Mustapha Beg, his Factor there. SALEM ALIEUKEM !-Mustapba-son of my sister, and keeper of my keys—there is no God but God, and Mahomet is his prophet! In my letters sent to thee from the city of cotton stuffs and black smoke-Man-ches-tere-I advised thee of those bales of merchandise which I had exchanged for the coffee and the gum that I brought to the adjoining port. With the blessing of Ali, they are now in a vessel of thy correspondent M Nair's, on their way from Frangistaun to the land of the Faithful. Wrapping myself in the woollen garments of this country-which are warmer, if not so beautiful as furs- I proceeded over the mountains with a caravan of one carriage, drawn by fleet horses, to the wild country known for
* The first European who crossed the Isthmus of Darien, thus describes his emotions.