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passion were boldly conceived, but his physical energies, like his stature, are beneath the European standard. There was more than a difference between him and Kean. His Gamba will be excellent, however, but the noble Moor is not for him, merely because “baply that he is black.” A very attractive lady, with the classic name of Pindar, is also with us at present. In hoydens-and even the artless girls of Shakespeare, she is as delightful as a pretty face, exquisite limbs, a head of hair beautiful as Ariadne's, and vivacity, united with experience, can make her. What a contrast to the clumsy capers of Mrs. Mangeon, who eternally twirls her apron strings, and arranges her tucker covering rather a pretty breast, by the bye-with the sickening affectation of a fat widow of fifty aping the airs of fifteen. Melrose comes back, and I expect to meet him in private company, where he is said to be as pleasant a gentleman as, in the field, he is a skilfal gympast and handsome fellow. You must bear his M'Lean's Invitation, if he come to Dum. fries. I have just returned with I somehow, Mary, call her Mother already—from the last of the Private Subscription Concerts of Mr. Thomson, held in a fine ball in his own resi. dence. It was quite a delightful domestic musical treat-the room holding about a hundred only, in full dress, and yet the orchestra comprising Miss Thomson-herself a host Nicol's flute, Taylor's harp, Thomson's piano and violin, and Rankine and Dobbie's “ most sweet voices.” The barp-playing and singing delighted our friend. Indeed, the exquisite taste and distinctness, and unaffected manner of Miss Thomson, must 'charm'every one of her own sex as they do of oars. Mr. Rankine
was rapturously encored in one piece, as was Miss T. in another " Tell me, my heart." I never heard either better sung. Mr. Dobbie astonished me in a song of Handel's—and some ladies behind us plagued me by abruptly departing before “ God Save the King” had been sung—as if loyalty had become unfashionable. To be sure one of them had yawned before, at the second touching of the barp, which, she seemed to think, should only " once in Thomson's ball the soul of music shed.” With this, I presume, will conclude the public gaieties of a very gay winter in Glasgow, and with it must my letter, at least that part of it “ appointed to be read aloud in families.”
C. H. P. S.--I shall not have time to gossip to Tom about literature; but 'tell him I shall send Brougham's Introduction to that noble work, “ The Library of Useful Knowledge,” in a day or two,--and a book that will terrify him, a sly and clever satirical and descriptive medical essay, quaintly called, “ The Anatomy of Drunkenness.” It is, if not laboriously scientific, exceedingly graphic, and bas actually frightened and ridiculed me out of one jollification already. The Anecdotes of Impudence, with Hume for a frontispiece, will have reached
him; but since I sent it, a new edition has appeared, with the following out-brazening addition, which eclipses all its other contents : " A numerous, but still strictly select private party was lately given by a young gentleman to his friends, at the very beginning of whose festivities two indifferently dressed, and worse looking would-be-swells, entered and took their places in the dance with the utmost non-chalance. Tipsy when they came—they were soon nearly blind drunk; and yet every one, while they shunned them, thought they had been invited, and would soon retire. They had been neither one nor other, but gained admittance by a cham, as boys skulk into the Minor Theatre, and safely swear they did not get a check.' When the Anecdotes of Good-Nature appear, it is to be recorded there, that these worthies were not thrown out of the window!" One more germain to you, however, I can tell you myself. The Editor of the “ Ladies' Museum” has dared to presume so far upon the ignorance of his "fair readers,” that he is actually reprinting, at the rate of one per month, the papers of the “ Sketch Book”-and palming them off as “ original communications.” This is almost as barefaced as Kirkland's writing long criticisms on his own “matchless orations," and as bold an imposture as Hunter, the pretended Indian, who was in Glasgow two years ago, and left his card at many respectable houses as a chief of the Osage tribe! He turns out to be a deserter from the militia of the U. S. But impudence thrives there they reprint Vivian Grey in a month, and Mill's India only six years after publication! Yet, while we are angry at having wondered a Red Man could write a book-lo! the Roscius plays Zanga,—and a real Cherokee, Elias Boudinot, prints in America a well-composed address in English to the Whites, on the condition of the aborigines of that continent, and the first vessel that ever sailed from the Broomielaw direct to Calcutta is to carry a letter to the Bramin Ramobun Roy, inviting him to come and preach in Glasgow ! " The Scrutinist,” when it appears here, and such a work is announced, win surely make us acquainted with these matters as well as of - Farms to Let,” which it had better leave to our judicious and useful “ Farmers' Register.” Is not this a true lady's Postscript, if not in its theme, at least in its longitude ?-C. H.
TO CORRESPONDENTS, &c. The pale, thin, young gentleman whom we overheard in Robertson and Atkinson's shop, complaining so grievously that there was not enough of poetry in “The Ant," shall by and bye have a larger allowance of verges. We have pap for infants in our hillock, as well as stronger nourishment.« Sheriff Selim " is too long, but, for love of some of its lines, we shall try to make room for all; and, indeed, mean to devote an early number to make our peace with Correspondents-by inserting their communications.
Printed by James Curll, 55, Bell-Street, and sold by all Booksellers.
No. X.-SATURDAY, 7th APRIL, 1827.
FOTOTHE STEAM-BOAT QUAY. IT was on one of the balmy days which sometimes occur at the end of March in our climate, but look so premature, and so out of place, preceded and followed as they always are by companions of more surly temper, that I dare hardly venture to congratulate myself on the return of Spring and sunshine, merely from their appearance—that notwithstanding some misgivings which induced me to carry an umbrella with me, I found myself seated upon, or rather leaning against, the massy, if not elegant, lamp-post and freestone basement which stands near the termination of the breast-work of the Glasgow harbour, now a place for taprooms and ship-chandlers, fishermen and coal-agents, ship-brokers and burden-carriers, mariners, &c. but, judging from its name, once a range of bonny broom-covered knowes, by the side of the then limpid waters of the pastoral Clyde.
The steam-boats which, like swallows, make very few and very short journeys in Winter, began to exhibit symptoms of reviving activity. Some lay in the stream under repair, receiving additions to their mechanical power, or having their embellished and ornamental parts To re-polished and re-touched,” like the speech of a young county member's father, which his tutor fits up and puts in a state for re-delivery by altering dates and references.
The sound of the shrill horns, blown by rival cabin-boys, announced that more than one was on the eve of starting. Though, from my time of life and other circumstances, no great traveller, I yet think few amusements more pleasing than to watch the setting off of coaches and steam-boats, to note the personages who fill them, and endeavour from their features to judge of their characters and the motives which induce their departure from this great city.“Haste ye, mither, what a' ye clavering wi' Lucky Dreighdraw yet for? Oddsake, I might hae been here an hour syne but for you, an' no been bursten wi' rinnin' ne'ther," were the first words I could distinctly hear, as a
straggling party advanced. They proceeded from a rosy Gourock lass, who had accompanied her mother to Glasgow, to counsel and assist her in the selection and purchase of certain necessary replenishments of “ towels, blankets, crockery, and counterpanes,” preparatory to the annual immigration of “ saut-water fock” thither. Mrs. Lampetleg seemed, however, little discomposed by the querulous and reproachful tone in which they were uttered. She was labouring on, as well as her size and the weight “ o' crockery and ither groceries," as she called them, which she carried, and the deeply interesting peroration of the discourse she had been laying off to her crony all the way down from the Brunt Barns to the Broomielaw, would permit. “ An' tell Mysie, as I said afore, no to forget the pattern for the mutch she spoke o', nor the body o' Kate the randy's black spencer. Ĝin ye hear ony mair o' Leezie Tamson's misfortune wi' lang Sawny, let me ken by ony body that comes our way in Simmer. Gudesake, did ye min' the brown sape and black ashes ? we've sax pair o' blankets to scour afore the preachens. D'ye think we wad na ha'e time to get a bottle o' yill? I'm like to choke wi' drouth and sweatin'?” — rapidly uttered the gaucy guidwife, as she neared and passed the place where I stood. I was not fortunate enough to catch the replies of the other interlocutor in full, but “ lang-toung'a hizzy—'deed have ye-its in yer blue kist," &c. met my ears, as the “ Lucky” examined the various accumulations which her daughter had received orders to see packed and stowed away in the steerage of the Rothsay Castle.
They were broken in upon, however, by the hoarse voice of the captain calling out, “ Ashore, ashore,”—at which mandate the loving cronies had to separate, with thirst unslaked, and stories innumerable yet untold; but as the last words of Mrs. Lampetleg and her daughter died away on my ear, while they accompanied them with expressive waves of the hand, each of which at once plainly said “ farewell,” and “ welcome." I heard her kimmer grumble out as she retraced her steps up the dusty quay, “ Devil choke the woman-she havered awa' the time for nae ither end but just to save her birling o' the bawbee. But I'll ha'e my mends. She's get eigbt days o' me in hairst, when the herrin''s in, an' l'il hunger mysel a fortnight afore, just to get revenge upon her pantry.”
I learn, however, since, from the douce dame of the Brunt Barns, that although she physicked herself for an
I had rather seen