side of his horse; and he owes his want of success if not to absolute stupidity, to his most earnest endeavour to secure it.

Now I do assure you, madam, that all these sprightly effusions of mine stand entirely clear of the charge of premeditation, and that I never entered upon a business of this kind with more simplicity in my life. I determined, before I began, to lay aside all attempts of the kind I have just mentioned; and being perfectly free from the fetters that self-conceit, commonly called bashfulness, fastens upon the mind, am, as you see, surprisingly brilliant.

house. No doubt the waiter, as ingenious and adroit as his predecessors were before him, raises the tea-pot to the ceiling with his right hand, while in his left the tea-cup, descending almost to the floor, receives a limpid stream; limpid in its descent, but no sooner has it reached its destination than, frothing and foaming to the view, it becomes a roaring syllabub. This is the nineteenth winter since I saw you in this situation; and if nineteen more pass over me before I die, I shall still remember a circumstance we have often laughed at.

For

How different is the complexion of your My principal design is to thank you in the evenings and mine!-yours, spent amid the plainest terms, which always afford the best ceaseless hum that proceeds from the inside of proof of a man's sincerity, for your obliging fifty noisy and busy periwigs; mine, by a dopresent. The seeds will make a figure here-mestic fireside in a retreat as silent as retireafter in the stove of a much greater man than myself, who am a little man, with no stove at all. Some of them, however, I shall raise for my own amusement, and keep them, as long as they can be kept, in a bark heat, which I give them all the year; and in exchange for those I part with, I shall receive such exotics as are not too delicate for a greenhouse.

I will not omit to tell you, what no doubt you have heard already, though perhaps you have never made the experiment, that leaves gathered at the fall are found to hold their heat much longer than bark, and are preferable in every respect. Next year I intend to use them myself. I mention it because Mr. Hill told me, some time since, that he was building a stove, in which, I suppose, they will succeed much better than in a frame.

I beg to thank you again, madam, for the very fine salmon you was so kind as to favour me with, which has all the sweetness of a Hertfordshire trout, and resembles it so much in flavour, that, blindfold, I should not have known the difference.

I beg, madam, you will accept all these thanks, and believe them as sincere as they really are. Mr. Hill knows me well enough to be able to vouch for me, that I am not overmuch addicted to compliments and fine speeches; nor do I mean either the one or the other when I assure you that I am, dear madam, not merely for his sake, but your own,

Your most obedient and affectionate servant,
W. C.

TO JOSEPH HILL, ESQ.

Dec. 7, 1782. MY DEAR FRIEND,-At seven o'clock this evening, being the seventh of December, I imagine I see you in your box at the coffee

ment can make it; where no noise is made but what we make for our own amusement. instance, here are two rustics and your humble servant in company. One of the ladies has been playing on the harpsichord, while I, with the other, have been playing at battledore and shuttle-cock. A little dog in the meantime, howling under the chair of the former, performed, in the vocal way, to admiration. This entertainment over, I began my letter, and having nothing more important to communicate, have given you an account of it. I know you love dearly to be idle when you can find an opportunity to be so; but as such opportunities are rare with you, I thought it possible that a short description of the idleness I enjoy might give you pleasure. The happiness we cannot call our own we yet seem to possess, while we sympathize with our friends who can.

The papers tell me that peace is at hand, and that it is at a great distance; that the siege of Gibraltar is abandoned, and that it is to be still continued. It is happy for me that, though I love my country, I have but little curiosity. There was a time when these contradictions would have distressed me, but I have learned by experience that it is best for little people like myself to be patient, and to wait till time affords the intelligence which no speculations of theirs can ever furnish.

I thank you for a fine cod with oysters, and hope that ere long I shall have to thank you for procuring me Elliott's medicines. Every time I feel the least uneasiness in either eye, I tremble lest, my Esculapius being departed, my infallible remedy should be lost for ever. Adieu. My respects to Mrs. Hill. Yours faithfully,

W. C.1

1 Private Correspondence of William Cowper. 2 vols. London: 1824.

MY NAMESAKE.

BY BON GAULTIER.

[Theodore Martin, born in Edinburgh, 16th September, 1816. He has earned high repute as a translator; but he is even better known as the joint-author, with W. Edmondstoune Aytoun, of the famous Bon

Gaultier series of ballads and tales-of which series he was the originator. In his Life of Aytoun (Blackwood and Sons, 1867) he says: "Some papers of a humorous kind which I had published under the nom de plume of Bon Gaultier, had hit Aytoun's fancy; and when I proposed to go on with others in a similar vein, he fell readily into the plan, and agreed to assist in it. In this way a kind of Beaumont-and-Fletcher partnership commenced in a series of humorous papers which appeared in Tail's and Fraser's Magazines during the years 1842, 1843, and 1844." The following amusing tale was one of the first of the series, and was published in Fraser's Magazine, December, 1842. Amongst Mr. Martin's valuable translations are: Goethe's Faust; Odes

of Horace; Catullus; The Vita Nuova of Dante: Aladdin, a Dramatic Poem, and Correggio, a Tragedy, both by Oehlenschlaeger; and King Rene's Daughter, a Danish lyrical drama by Henrik Hertz.]

Why was I called Brown-why John Brown? The cruelty of custom! to fasten upon me such an every-day sort of name, solely because my ancestors had borne it contentedly for years. If it had only been Alfred Brown, or Frederick, or even Edward, the thing might have passed; but John Brown! There is no getting over the commonplace of the cognomen. John Brown is everybody, anybody, nobody. Any one John Brown is quite as good as another: he belongs to a class so numerous that it is vain to attempt to individualize your conceptions of them. Had ever any man a distinct idea of a John Brown? No! There are at least some fifty of his acquaintances who bear the name, and these are all jumbled together in his mind in one vague and undefined chaos,

"A mighty maze, and all without a plan." We are the nobodies of society.

"John, my boy," said my father to me one day, "John, my boy, we are a pair of miserable selfish dogs living here, a brace of bachelors, upon the fat of the land, with not a bit of womankind about us. This sort of thing will never do. One or other of us must get married, that's plain. I'm a thought too old for it; besides that my regard for your poor dear mother will hardly allow me; so, John, my boy, the lot falls on you. What say you the plan?"

"Oh, I'm perfectly agreeable, if you wish it; indeed, I rather like the plan than otherwise."

"Indeed, you rather like the plan than otherwise! You apathetic puppy, you should You don't know go into raptures about it.

what a splendid thing it makes life to have a fine, affectionate, gentle-hearted creature for the wife of your bosom

"The treasures of the deep are not so precious As are the concealed comforts of a man Lock'd up in woman's love.'

The old boy who wrote that knew what was what."

"Well, well, father, I bow to your experience; and, since you wish it, shall look out for a better-half forthwith. But perhaps you can give me a hint where to direct my search?" I continued, seeing, from the old gentleman's looks, that he had some project on his mind, of which he was bursting to unburden it. "I think I can, indeed. A splendid girl!"

It

"No? Who is she?"

Oh, I have tickled your curiosity, have I? would serve you right, you cold-blooded rascal, not to tell you.'

66

Nay, but

"

"Well, well, I'll be merciful. So, then, what say you to the daughter of my very worthy friend David Smith of Edinburgh?"

"Smith!" I exclaimed in dismay, thinking of the unhappy conjunction of the uncommon names of Brown and Smith.

"" Yes, sir, Miss Smith-Miss Julia Smith. Have you any objection to the lady, you puppy, that you stand staring at me as if I were a hobgoblin?"

Julia Smith! The Julia did certainly set off the surname a little. It was not so bad, after all. "Objection, sir? None in the world. How could I, when the lady may be as beautiful as day, and as amiable as Mrs. Chapone, for anything I know?"

of

66

But there is

'None of your sneering, you impudent dog, or I'll knock you down. The girl is only too good for you every way. If you haven't seen her, I have, and that's enough. no time to be lost. I warrant me there are lots her feet, and you may be cut out before you young fellows ready to throw themselves at can say Jack Robinson. So the sooner you talked over the matter together. see her the better. Smith and myself have He is anxious for the match, and you start therefore with the odds in your favour. I have written to him So be off with you, The name is taken from the prologue to the first to expect you this week. book of Rabelais. my boy; and if you don't secure the prize, order 16

VOL. I.

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