Enter THE STELLAR BAND-Messrs. Gemini, Cancer, Leo, Sagittarius, Aquarius, and Pisces, with Mesdames Virgo and Libra; led by Captain Stramash. Captain. (singing)— "Then away we'll a' be speeling, lads, Till of heaven we reach the ceiling, lads; O, we'll dance in the moon, To some auld Scotch tune, While the planets are round us reeling, lads! On the Scorpion's tail, While the fishes for supper are fryin' lads! "When wi' Venus we've danced a measure, lads, In Charlie's wain, Come jogging away at our leisure, lads. "'Twas glorious us mounting, lads, The stars our companions counting, lads; Inspiration we'll drain At mair than the Muses' fountain, lads!" Stellar Gentlemen. We will, we will. Stellar Ladies. We won't, we won't. Saxon. Hey, Gemini! anything new? Gemini. Nothing but a sonnet. Virg. et Lib. To a bonnet? * Aquarius. Or on the visit of Miss Virgo and Mr. Pisces to the Sounding Aisle, referred to in the Starry Night, No. III., "in our next?" Gemini. No, but SONNET. ON THE RECENT EPIDEMIC. (With Notes.) Thy saline virtues, scouring ev'ry vein, Give back the rampant energies the rein! NOTES. September rains. September, from septem (seven), and imber (a shower of rain). -A.M. Purg-at'ry. See diagnosis of the epidemic.-M.D. Callin'-Bridge of Allan. Highly original rythm.-B.M., Oxon. Hatter, from hauteur (Fr.), pride, indicated by the cock of the hat. Hodman is taken by the poet for one of the humblest; Hatter, in virtue of its derivation, for one of the highest professions.-Ph. D. Dark Dyspeptics. They this year, certainly, had the worst of it, from the tropical character of the season, inducing actually yellow fever in a modified form.-M.D. Gods-Little fishes-Guts. The fishes are naturally appealed to on the subject of guts, with more poetic grace than the immortals.-A.S.S. Pisces. I admire the way in which you bring in there the "gods and little fishes." This is a first-rate sonnet, but not equal to "Loch1-v-n Castle." The notes are as good as those to poetry in general. Sagittarius. What! Pisces, "are you the editor of the Renfrewshire Magazine?" Pisces. Why, Mr. Archer, that is a secret: but, if I am not he, thank goodness he is neither a sumph nor a sneak. Cancer. I beg next to be heard. Leo. Cum notis, like Gemini ? Cancer. Not at all! This is something in the ballad style. "THE PIG IN THE POCK." A MODERN STREET BALLAD. AIR-" Kilmarnock Nightcaps." I SING O' a thing that has happen'd in Killie, This Billie was skilfu', 'mang few or 'mang many, This pig nor this pock were ne'er read of in volumes, The old days are fled now of "Leper the Tailor," Of "Paddy from Cork," and such wretched canaille, or But, finding that vending the thing was a bother, With whom all the schoolboys of Killie might troke Some parent, detecting the scandalous purchase, A circ'lar was issued, exposing the whole, Now the Council bell rang, and our Billie was call'd Down, down on his knees goes the Billie, and cries- I was tempted, and issued-" the pig in the pock." From the civil he pass'd 'fore the clerical powers, When, seizing his hat and contents of the till, Saxon. Confounded Scotch! What was it, then, this pig in a whatd'ye-call-it? Pisces. Not to be mentioned to ears polite. The ballad is too good for the subject. Its moral, however, forms a rare exemplar of "vice its own punishment." For the sake of a paltry profit of a few pence, to see a person expose himself to run the gauntlet thus, is really, as Sam Slick says, a caution! Inquire in Killie. Tremendous noise, and a shrill cry of "Who's afraid!"—occasioned by the downfal of the statue of "NOBODy affrighted -when the whole illusion vanishes. NO. III. MEMORIAL VERSES. "What is affection's token-oft a trifle." My heart would commune here with thine ; And hope will soothe the parting pain, And break the light that ne'er declineth. KILMARNOCK. THE ARISTOCRACY OF LITERATURE, AND LITERARY CRITICISM. (To the Editor of the Renfrewshire Magazine.) THAT in a community assuming to itself the name of Commonwealth, there should have sprung up an aristocracy, unparalleled in its exclusiveness, might well be matter of surprise, did not all past history bear testimony to the fact, that there is inherent in human nature a thirst for power, and that when the individual cannot rule alone, he is willing to become one of a ruling faction. To a hereditary aristocracy much is conceded on account of long descent from illustrious ancestors; time has thrown an imaginary halo round the representative of an ancient and honourable name, which, provided he is worthy to wear, few, even in these democratic days, will fail to treat with becoming respect. There are other aristocracies whose pretensions we are more inclined to dispute; with them, however, (we mean the overgrown ones of wealth and fashion,) we have for the present nothing to do; their gilded idols and fluttering butterflies have, doubtlessly, conferred benefits upon society, for which it manifests its gratitude by humbly worshipping the one, and servilely imitating the other. But it is with a very different class we have to deal, the high caste! the aristocracy of literature! it surely has no title whatever to assume rank on account of ancestry, or wealth, or fashion, (though there is such a thing as fashionable writing). Genius, thank heaven! is above and independent of the laws of primogeniture and entail-it cannot be transmitted, like wealth or property, from father to son, but is derived immediately from the source and fountain of all honour; such being its tenure, we conceive it to be beneath the dignity of a body so holding, to wall itself round with the paltry partitions which the patricians of mere civil society erect, to prevent their being elbowed by the mobility. The individual member of the literary republic on whom the mantle of inspiration has fallen, may, like the great military captain of modern history, date the patent of his nobility from his first victory-yet, having risen, like all his predecessors, from the ranks, let him ever be ready to accord to the young aspirant to literary honours, the full degree of merit due to his exertions; and, looking down from the eminence he |