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simplicity, will perhaps be able to explain to them who and what were meant by these oracular advertisements.
Mr Thomas Moore, we happen to know, has written a Satirical Poem upon us and our Magazine, but it is not yet published; and both for his sake and our own, we hope it never will be; but that he will commit it to the flames, and forget it altogether. We are great admirers of Mr Moore's genius—his wit_his sensibility_his fancy-and his imagination. We have said so in a thousand pleasant and delightful ways, and will often say so again. We did not at all like the gross and brutal personalities of many of his political verses, and thought badly of the licentiousness of many of his amatory effusions. This, too, we have said in a thousand pleasant and delightful ways, and will often say so again. These opinions of ours are certainly more distinguished for truth than originality. We have no wish to be singular; and if all the world but ourselves thinks that the “Two-Penny Post-bag” is a gentlemanly, honourable, and amiable jeu d'esprit, and that “ Little's Poems” ought to lie below the pillows of all our virgins, why, we must just then eat our words, and entreat Mr Thomas Moore's pardon. Till we have ascertained that the world is on one side, and we on another, we must beg leave to retain our present opinions. Now, Mr Moore being a satyrist himself, should not fly into a fury with us for being now and then of the same kidney,-if indeed it be true, as many worthy people seem to hint, that we are a severe set of people. He really ought not to have written a sharp poem upon us; and we think, that, upon reflection, he must be sorry for it. Should he really publish his attack, what we intend to do is simply this:-We intend to give copious extracts, so as to fill the right-hand columns of about a dozen pages of the Magazine, and to fill the left-hand columns with verses of our own, (in the same measure, whatever that may be—is it heroic?) upon Mr Moore. It will amuse-probably instruct, the public -to see two such great wits as Tom Moore and Kit North fairly set-to. ' A clear stage, and fair play, is all that either
desire; and umpires may be appointed from the
SEVERAL circumstances concur in impressing us with the belief that our miscellany will form the subject of general discussion during the ensuing month, and this, per haps, even to a greater extent than it has ever yet done. : · In the mean time, let us be excused for saying a very few words about ourselves. That we have committed various acts of imprudence, we do not deny--we freely admit that we have done so: and we wish to know, if all the Conductors of Periodical Works now extant were assembled: in one room, which of them it is that durst hesitate to make a similar confession ? Haste, and vivacity of spirits, and the enjoyment of a joke, are things the effect of which every candid person pay in some measure appreciate, and if there be people so very wise as to make no allowance for such matters, we are at least sure of this, that these sages were never, themselves, capable of doing anything quickly, nor visited by one impetus of social glee, nor guilty of one witticism since they first shook their heads in their nurse's arms. For us, we are certainly of a very different temperament; and such is universally felt to be the case. Indeed, one of the best jokes, one of the greatest jokers of the age has to answer for, sets this matter in a very striking point of view. “ I wish," said a learned Whig M. P. one day in a certain shop in Albemarle Street, “ I wish to God' this fellow North were dead." " That,” replied another of the same class, “ would do us little good; he has bred such a race of tormentors, that we shall never have peace while we live-Depend on it, Sir J , his ghost will walk.” _“Walk !" quoth R " by Jupiter, if it does anything, it will trot.” : :
The simple truth of the affair lies in a nut-shell. : For a series of years, the Whigs in Scotland had all the jokes to themselves. They laughed and lashed as they liked ;and, while this was the case, did anybody ever hear them say that either laughing or lashing were among the seven deadly sins ? People said at times, no doubt, that Mr Jef