quet, and I escorted Dick on his walk to Edin burgh. We parted about a mile from the village, just as we heard the distant cheer of the boys, which accompanied the mounting of the new symbol of the Wallace Head. Dick Tinto mended his pace to get out of hearing-so little had either early practice, or recent philosophy, reconciled him to the character of a sign painter.

In Edinburgh, Dick's talents were discerned and appreciated, and he received dinners and hints from several distinguished judges of the fine arts. But these gentlemen dispensed their criticism more willingly than their cash, and Dick thought he needed cash more than criticism. He therefore sought London, the universal mart of talent, and where, as is usual in general marts of most descriptions, much more of the commodity is exposed to sale than can ever find purchasers.

Dick, who, in serious earnest, was supposed to have considerable natural talents for his profession, and whose vain and sanguine disposition never permitted him to doubt for a moment of ultimate success, threw himself headlong into the crowd which jostled and struggled for notice and preferment. He elbowed others, and was elbowed himself; and finally, by dint of intrepidity, fought his way into some notice, painted for the prize at the Institution, had pictures at the exhibition at Somerset House, and damned the hanging committee. But poor Dick was doomed to lose the field he fought so gallantly. In the fine arts, there is scarce an alternative between distinguished success and absolute failure; and, as Dick's zeal and industry were unable to ensure

the former, he fell into the distresses which, in his condition, were the natural consequences of the latter alternative. He was for a time patronized by one or two of those judicious persons who make a virtue of being singular, and of pitching their own opinions against those of the world in matters of taste and criticism. But they soon tired of poor Tinto, and laid him down as a load, upon the principle on which a spoiled child throws away its plaything. Misery, I fear, took him up, and accompanied him to a premature grave, to which he was carried from an obscure lodging in Swallow Street, where he had been dunned by his landlady within doors, and watched by bailiffs without, until death came to his relief. A corner of the Morning Post noticed his death; generously adding, that his manner displayed considerable genius, though his style was rather sketchy; and referred to an advertisement which announced that Mr. Varnish, a well known print, seller, had still on hand a very few drawings and paintings by Richard Tinto, Esquire, which those of the nobility and gentry, who might wish to complete their collections of modern art, were invited to visit without delay. So ended Dick Tinto, a lamentable proof of the great truth, that in the fine arts mediocrity is not permitted, and that he who cannot ascend to the very top of the ladder, will do well not to put his foot on it at all. SIR W. SCOTT,

THE

MONOPOLIZER OF CONVERSATION.

SIR,

I CAN'T complain to you of a grievance which I do not remember to have seen taken notice of, at least not exactly in the way it affects me, in any treatise on conversation.

Here, in the coffee-house I frequent (and you, for aught I know, may have often witnessed the thing in your own proper person), is one Mr. Glib, who is the greatest questioner I ever met with in the whole course of my life. This, however, though plague enough of itself, is but half the injury of which we have to complain from him. Mr. Glib, sir, not content with the question, always takes the answer upon him likewise; so that it is impossible to get in a word. I shall illustrate my meaning by giving you verbatim his conversation this morning. He came in wiping his forehead, and, as I hoped, out of breath; but he was scarcely seated when he began as usual: "Mercy on us! how hot it is! Boy, fetch me a glass of port and water. Dr. Phlogiston, did you observe what the thermometer stood at this morning? Mine was at seventy-six in the shade. -Well, this has cleared my throat of the dust a little. What a dust there is in the new town! Gentlemen, were any of you in Prince's Street since breakfast? I went to call on a friend who lives at the farther side of the square, and I had like to have been smothered.-Sir John, how

were you entertained at the play last night? Mrs. Pope's playing was admirable. Were not you amazed at the thinness of the house? But fashion, not taste, rules every thing. Give the women but a crowd within, and a squeeze at the door, and they don't care a pin for the excellence of the entertainment. Captain Paragraph, how long is it since the post came in? I got my paper about an hour ago. When is it thought parliament will rise? I have a letter that says the twelfth.-Mr. M'Blubber, you are a Highlander, what is your opinion of those encouragements to the fishery? I have no great notion of building towns; find the birds, say I, and they will find nests for themselves.-Mr. Rupee (you have been in India), what do you say to this impeachment? I am inclined to think it will come to nothing.Pray, what is the exact definition of a bulse? I understand it to be a package for diamonds, as a rouleau is for guineas.-Ha! is not that Mr. Hazard walking yonder, who came yesterday from London? Yes, it is, I know him by his gait. Sir, is my cane any where near you? Oh! yes, I left it in the corner of the box.-Boy, how much did I owe the house since yesterday? Eighteen pence. Here it is.

Now, Mr. Lounger, you must be satisfied what an aggravated offence this way of talking of Mr. Glib's is, against other people who wish to have some share in the conversation. The most unconscionable querists, if they keep within their own department are contented with half the talk of the company: Mr. Glib cuts it in two, and very modestly helps himself to both pieces.

When he has set the fancy agog, and one's tongue is just ready to give it vent, pop he comes between one and the game he has started, and takes the word out of one's mouth. Do write a few lines, sir, to let Mr. Glib know how unreasonable and how ridiculous his behaviour is; 'tis as if one should play at shuttlecock alone, or take a game at piquet, one's right hand against one's left; or sit down with three dead men at whist. I should never have done, were I to say all I think of its absurdity.

I am a married man, Mr. Lounger, and have a wife and three grown up daughters at home. I am a pretty constant frequenter of the coffeehouse, where I go to have the pleasure of a little conversation; but if Mr. Glib is to come there every morning, as he does at present, never to have done asking questions, and never to allow any body but himself to answer them, I may just as well stay at home. Yours, &c. Gabriel Gossip. MACKENZIE.

THE BARGAIN BUYER.

If it be difficult to persuade the idle to be busy, it is likewise, as experience has taught me, not easy to convince the busy that it is better to be idle. When you shall despair of stimulating sluggishness to motion, I hope you will turn your thoughts towards the means of stilling the bustle of pernicious activity.

I am the unfortunate husband of a buyer of bargains. My wife has somewhere heard that a