the way of all the fashionable promenades and lounges; but, indeed, for any thing I have seen, it is not much frequented even by the young gentlemen of the University. The daily visiters of Mr. Laing, (for that is the name of its proprietor,) seem rather to be a few scattered individuals of various classes and professions, among whom, in spite of the prevailing spirit and customs of the place, some love of classical learning is still found to linger-retired clergymen, and the like, who make no great noise in the world, and, indeed, are scarcely known to exist by the most part even of the literary people of Edinburgh. The shop, notwithstanding, is a remarkably neat and comfortable one, and even a lady might lounge in it, without having her eye offended, or her gown soiled. It consists of two apartments, which are both completely furnished with valuable editions of old authors, and I assure you, the antique vellum bindings, or oak boards of these ponderous folios, are a very refreshing sight to me, after visiting the gaudy and brilliant stores of such a shop as that I have just described. Mr. Laing is a quiet, sedate looking old gentleman, who, although he has contrived to make himself very rich in his business, has still the air of being somewhat dissatisfied, that so much more attention should be paid by his fellow-citizens to the flimsy novelties of the day, than to the solid and substantial articles which his magazine displays. But his son is the chief enthusiast-indeed, he is by far the most genuine specimen of the true old-fashioned bibliopole that I ever saw exhibited in the person of a young man. My friend W has a prodigious liking for him, which originated, I believe, in their once meeting casually in Rotterdam, and travelling together over most part of Holland in the Treckschuyt-and, indeed, this circumstance has been expressly alluded to by W in one of his poems. Here W commonly spends one or two hours every week he is in Edinburgh, turning over, in company with his young friend, all the Alduses, and Elzevirs, and Wynkin de Wordes, and Caxtons in the collection, nor does he often leave the shop, without being tempted to take some little specimen of

its treasures home with him. I also, although my days of bibliomania are long since over, have been occasionally induced to transgress my self-denying rule. I have picked up various curious things at a pretty cheap rate-and one book in particular, of which I shall beg your acceptance when we meet; but at present I won't tell you what it is. David Laing is still a very young man; but W tells me, (and so far as I have had occasion to see, he is quite correct in doing so,) that he possesses a truly wonderful degree of skill and knowledge in almost all departments of bibliography. Since Lunn's death, he says, he does not think there is any of the booksellers in London superior to him in this way, and he often advises him to transfer the shop and all its treasures thither. But I suppose Mr. Laing has very good reasons not to be in a hurry in adopting any such advice. He publishes a catalogue almost every year, and thus carries on a very extensive trade with all parts of the island. Besides, miserable as is the general condition of old learning in Scotland, there is still, I suppose, abundant occasion for one bookseller of this kind; and, I believe, he has no rival in the whole country. For my part, if I lived in Edinburgh, I would go to his shop every now and then, were it only to be put so much in mind of the happy hours we used to spend together long ago at Mr. Parker's.

This old gentleman and his son are distinguished by their classical taste, in regard to other things beside books-and among the rest, in regard to wines—a subject touching which it is fully more easy for them to excite the sympathy of the knowing ones of Edinburgh. They give an annual dinner to Wand he carried me with him the other day to one of these anniversaries. I have seldom seen a more luxurious display. We had claret of the most exquisite La-Fitte flavour, which foamed in the glass like the cream of straw-berries, and went down as cool as the nectar of Olympus. David and W entertained us with an infinite variety of stories about George Buchanan, the Admirable Crichtonius, and all the more forgotten heroes of the Delicia Poetarum Scotorum.

What precise share of the pleasure might be due to the claret, and what to their stories, I shall not venture to inquire; but I have rarely spent an evening more pleasantly.

P. S. They are also very curious in sherry.

P. M.

LETTER XLIV.

TO THE SAME.

DEAR DAVID,

THE only great lounging book-shop in the New Town of Edinburgh is Mr. Blackwood's. The prejudice in favour of sticking by the Old Town was so strong among the gentlemen of the trade, that when this bookseller intimated a few years ago his purpose of removing to the New, his ruin was immediately prophesied by not a few of his sagacious brethren. He persisted, however, in his intentions, and speedily took possesion of a large and airy suite of rooms in Prince's Street, which had formerly been occupied by a notable confectioner, and whose threshhold was therefore familiar enough to all the frequenters of that superb promenade. There it was that this enterprising bibliopole hoisted his standard, and prepared at once for action. Stimulated, I suppose, by the example and success of John Murray, whose agent he is, he determined to make, if possible, Prince's Street to the High Street, what the other has made Albemarle Street to the Row.

This shop is situated very near my hotel; so Mr. W—— carried me into it almost immediately after my arrival in Edinburgh; indeed, I asked him to do so, for the noise made even in London about the Chaldee MS., and some other things in the Magazine, had given me some curiosity to see the intrepid publisher of these things, and the probable scene of their concoction. W has contributed a variety of

poems, chiefly ludicrous, to the pages of the New Miscellany; so that he is of course a mighty favourite with the proprietor, and I could not have made my introduction under better auspices than his.

The length of vista presented to one on entering the shop, has a very imposing effect; for it is carried back, room after room, through various gradations of light and shadow, till the eye cannot trace distinctly the outline of any object in the furthest distance. First, there is as usual a spacious place set apart for retail business, and a numerous detachment of young clerks and apprentices, to whose management that important department of the concern is intrusted. Then you have an elegant oval saloon, lighted from the roof, where various groupes of loungers and literary dilettanti are engaged in looking at, or criticising among themselves, the publications just arrived by that day's coach from town In such critical colloquies, the voice of the bookseller himself may ever and anon be heard mingling the broad and unadulterated notes of its Auld Reekie music; for, unless occupied in the recesses of the premises with some other business, it is here that he has his usual station. He is a nimble active looking man of middle age, and moves about from one corner to another with great alacrity, and apparently under the influence of high animal spirits. His complexion is very sanguineous, but nothing can be more intelligent, keen, and sagacious, than the expression of the whole physiognomy; above all, the grey eyes and eye-brows as full of loco-motion as those of Catalani. The remarks he makes, are, in general, extremely acute-much more so, indeed, than those of any member's of the trade I ever heard speak upon such topics. The shrewdness and decision of the man can, however, stand in need of no testimony beyond what his own conduct has afforded-above all, in the establishment of his Magazine, (the conception of which, I am assured, was entirely his own,) and the subsequent energy with which he has supported it through every variety of good and evil fortune. It would be very unfair to lay upon his should

ers any portion of the blame which particular parts of his book may have deserved; but it is impossible to deny that he is well entitled to a large share in whatever merit may be supposed to be due to the erection of a work, founded, in the main, upon good principles both political and religious, in a city where a work upon such principles must have been more wanted, and, at the same time, more difficult, than in any other with which I am acquainted.

After I had been introduced in due form, and we had stood for about a couple of minutes in this place, the bookseller drew Mr. Waside, and a whispering conversation commenced between them, in the course of which, although I had no intention of being a listener, I could not avoid noticing that my own name was frequently mentioned. On the conclusion of it, Mr. Blackwood approached me with a look of tenfold kindness, and requested me to walk with him into the interior of his premises-all of which, he was pleased to add, he was desirous of showing to me. I of course agreed, and followed him through various turnings and windings into a very small closet, furnished with nothing but a pair of chairs and a writing-table. We had no sooner arrived in this place, which, by the way, had certainly something very mysterious in its aspect, than Mr. Blackwood began at once with these words: - "Well, Dr. Morris, have you seen our last Number? Is it not perfectly glorious?-My stars! Doctor! there is nothing equal to it. We are beating the Reviews all to nothing—and, as to the other Magazines, they are such utter trash"-To this I replied shortly, that I had seen and been very much amused with the last number of his Magazine-intimating, however, by tone of voice, as well as of look, that I was by no means prepared to carry my admiration quite to the height he seemed to think reasonable and due. He observed nothing of this, however; or if he did, did not choose I should see that it was so "Dr. Morris!" said he, "you must really be a contributor-We've a set of wild fellows about us; we are much in want of a few sensible intelligent writers, like you, sir, to counterbalance them-and then what a fine field you would