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of any of the others) is contained in

Beer. the following passage: “ You Wine The citie calls for Beere, and Beer, are fain to take up a

Ale. corner any where--your ambition But Ale, bonnie Ale, like a lord of the soile goes no farther than a cellar; the In the country shall domincere. whole house where I am goes by my

Chorus. name, and is called Ale-house. Then let us be roerry, wash sorow away, Who ever heard of a Wine-house, or Wine, Beer, and Ale shall be drunk this a Beer-house? My name, too, is of day. a stately etymology-you must bring

In the end Tobacco appears-He forth your Latin. Ale, so please arrogates an equality with Wine. you, from alo, which signifieth nou

“ You and I both come out of a pipe." rish-I am the choicest and most The reply is, “ Prithee go smoke luscious of potables.” Wine, Beer, elsewhere.” « Don't incense me, and Ale at last compose their differ- don't inflame Tobacco,” he retorts; ences, each having a certain domi- but is told, « no one fears your puffnion assigned to him, and join in sing- ing—turn over a new leaf, Tobacco, ing these verses.

most high and mighty Trinidado.” Wine.

F. R. I generous Wine am for the court,


To mind the inside of a book is to entertain one's self with the forced product of another man's brain. Now I think a man of quality and breeding may be much amused with the natural sprouts of his own.

Lord Foppington in the Nelapsc. An ingenious acquaintance of my phus (that learned Jew), and Paley's own was so much struck with this Moral Philosophy. With these exbright sally of his Lordship, that he ceptions, I can read almost any has left off reading altogether, to the thing. I bless my stars for a taste great improvement of his originality, so catholic, so unexcluding. At the hazard of losing some credit I confess that it moves my spleen on this head, I must confess that I to see these things in books' clothing dedicate no inconsiderable portion of perched upon shelves, like false my time to other people's thoughts. saints, usurpers of true shrines, inI dream away my life in others' spe- truders into the sanctuary, thrusting culations. I love to lose myself in out the legitimate occupants.

To other men's minds. When I am not reach down a well-bound semblance walking, I am reading ; I cannot sit of a volume, and hope it some kindand think. Books think for me. liearted play-book, then, opening

I have no repugnances. Shafts- what “ seem its leaves," to come bury is not too genteel for me, nor bolt upon a withering Population Jonathan Wild too low. I can read Essay. To expect a Steele, or a any thing which I call a book. There Farquhar, and find-- Adam Smith. are things in that shape which I can- To view a well-arranged assortment not allow for such.

of blockheaded Encyclopædias (AnIn this catalogue of books which are glicanas or Metropolitanas) set out no books biblia a-biblia-I reckon in an array of Russia, or Morocco, Court Calendars, Directories, Pocket when a tythe of that good leather Books (the

Literary excepted), would comfortably re-clothe my shiDraught Boards bound and lettered vering folios; would renovate Paraat the back, Scientific Treatises, Al- celsus himself, and enable old Raymanacks, Statutes at Large; the mund Lully I have them both, works of Hume, Gibbon, Robertson, reader-to look like himself again in Beattie, Soame Jenyns, and, general- the world. I never see these imly, all those volumes which “no postors, but I long to strip them, to gentleman's library should be with

warm my ragged veterans in their out;" the Histories of Flavius Jose- spoils.



To be strong-backed and neat- Not only rare volumes of this de. bound is the desideratum of a vo- scription, which seem hopeless ever lume. Magnificence comes after. to be reprinted; but old editions of This, when it can be afforded, is not writers, such as Sir Philip Sidney, to be lavished upon all kinds of books Bishop Taylor, Milton in his proseindiscriminately. I would not dress works, Fuller-of whom we have rea set of Magazines, for instance, in prints; yet the books themselves, full suit. The dishabille, or half- though they go about, and are talked binding (with Russia backs ever), of here and there, we know, have is our costume. A Shakspeare, or a not endenizened themselves (nor posMilton (unless the first editions), it sibly ever will) in the national were mere foppery to trick out in gay heart, so as to become stock booksapparel. The possession of them con- it is good to possess these in durable fers no distinction. The exterior of and costly covers.-I do not care for them (the things themselves being so a First Folio of Shakspeare. You cancommon), strange to say, raises no not make a pet book of an author sweet emotions, no tickling sense of whom every body reads. I rather property in the owner. Thomson's prefer the common editions of Rowe Seasons, again, looks best (I main- and Tonson, without notes, and with tain it) a little torn, and dog's-eared. plates, which, being so execrably bad, How beautiful to a genuine lover of serve as maps, or modest rememreading are the sullied leaves, and brancers, to the text; and without worn out appearance, nay, the very pretending to any supposeable emuodour (beyond Russia), if we would lation with it, are so much better not forget kind feelings in fastidious- than the Shakspeare gallery engrave ness, of an old “ Circulating Li- ings, which did. I have a commubrary” Tom Jones, or Vicar of nity of feeling with my countrymen Wakefield! How they speak of the about his Plays; and I like those edithousand thumbs, which have turned tions of him best, which have been over their pages with delight !--of oftenest tumbled about and handled. the lone sempstress, whom they may - On the contrary, I cannot read have cheered (milliner, or harder- Beaumont and Fletcher but in Folio. working mantua-maker) after her The Octavo editions are painful to long day's needle-toil, running far look at. I have no sympathy with into midnight, when she has snatched them, nor with Mr. Gifford's Ben Jonan hour, ill spared from sleep, to steep son. If they were as much read as her cares, as in some Lethean cup, the current editions of the other poet, in spelling out their enchanting con- I should prefer them in that shape to tents! Who would have them a whit the older one.--I do not know a less soiled ? What better condition more heartless sight than the recould we desire to see them in ? print of the Anatomy of Melancholy.

In some respects the better a book What need was there of unearthing is, the less it demands from binding. the bones of that fantastic old great Fielding, Smollet, Sterne, and all man, to expose them in a windingthat class of perpetually self-repro- sheet of the latest edition to modern ductive volumes-Great Nature's censure? what hapless stationer could Stereotypeswe see them indivi- dream of Burton ever becoming podually perish with less regret, be- pular?- The wretched Malone could cause we know the copies of them not do worse, when he bribed the to be “ eterne.” But where a book sexton of Stratford church to let him is at once both good and rare—where white-wash the painted effigy of old the individual is almost the species, Shakspeare, which stood there, in and when that perishes,

rude but lively fashion depicted, to

the very colour of the cheek, the eye, We know not where is that Promethean the eye-brow, hair, the very dress

torch That can its light relumine

he used to wear-the only authentic

testimony we had, however impersuch a book, for instance, as the Life fect, of these curious parts and parof the Duke of Newcastle, by his cels of him. They covered him over Duchess—no casket is rich enough, with a coat of white paint. By no casing sufficiently durable, to ho- if I had been a justice of peace

for nour and keep safe such a jewel. Warwickshire, I would have clapt



both commentator and sexton fast in Seldom-readers are slow readers, and, the stocks for a pair of meddling sa- without this expedient no one in the crilegious varlets.

company would probably ever travel I think I see them at their work, through the contents of a whole pathese sapient trouble-tombs.

per. Shall I be thought fantastical, if Newspapers always excite curioI confess, that the names of some of sity. No one ever lays one down our poets sound sweeter, and have a without a feeling of disappointment. finer relish to the ear-to mine, at What an eternal time that gentleleast--than that of Milton or of Shak- man in black, at Nando's, keeps the speare? It may be, that the latter paper! I am sick of hearing the are more staled and rung upon in waiter bawling out incessantly, “the common discourse. The sweetest Chronicle is in hand, Sir.” names, and which carry a perfume As in these little Diurnals I genein the mention, are, Kit Marlowe, rally skip the Foreign News-the DeDrayton, Drummond of Hawthorn- bates—and the Politics-I find the den, and Cowley:

Morning Herald by far the most enMuch depends upon when and tertaining of them. It is an agreewhere you read a book. In the five able miscellany, rather than a new'sor six impatient minutes, before the paper. dinner is quite ready, who would Coming in to an inn at nightthink of taking up the Fairy Queen having ordered your supper-what for a stop-gap, or a volume of Bi- can be more delightful than to find shop Andrewes' sermons ?

lying in the window-seat, left there Nilton almost requires a solemn time out of mind by the carelessness service of music to be played, before of some former guest-two or three you enter upon him. But he brings numbers of the old Town and Counhis music- to which, who listens, try Magazine, with its amusing têtehad need bring docile thoughts and a-tête pictures.-" The Royal Lover purged ears.

and Lady G-;" “ the Melting Winter evenings—the world shut Platonic and the old Beau,”—and out—with less of ceremony the gen- such like antiquated scandal? Would tle Shakspeare enters. At such a you exchange it--at that time, and season, the Tempest-or his own in that place-for a better book? Winter's Tale

Poor Tobin, who latterly fell blind, These two poets you cannot avoid did not regret it so much for the reading aloud—to yourself, or (as it weightier kinds of reading—the Pachances) to some single person listen- radise Lost, or Comus, he could ing. More than one and it dege- have read to him—but he missed the nerates into an audience.

pleasure of skimming over with his Books of quick interest, that hurry own eye-a magazine, or a light on for incidents, are for the eye to pamphlet. glide over solely. It will not do to I should not care to be caught in read them out. I could never listen the serious avenues of some cathedral to even the better kind of modern alone, and reading-Candide! novels without extreme irksomeness. I do not remember a more whim

A newspaper, read out, is intoler- sical surprise than having been once able. In some of the Bank offices it detected-by a familiar damsel-reis the custom (to save so much in- clined at my ease upon the grass, on dividual time) for one of the clerks— Primrose Hill (her Cythera), reading who is the best scholar-to com- - Pamela. There was nothing in mence upon the Times, or the Chro- the book to make a man seriously nicle, and recite its entire contents ashamed at the exposure; but, as aloud pro bono publico. With every she seated herself down by me, and advantage of lungs and elocution— seemed determined to read in comthe effect is singularly vapid.-In pany, I could have wished it had barbers' shops, and public-houses, a heen- any other book.–We read on fellow will get up, and spell out a very sociably for a few pages; and, paragraph, which he communicates as not finding the author much to her some discovery. Another follows with taste, she got up, and went away. his selection. So the entire journal Gentle casuist, I leave it to thee to transpires at length by piece-meal, conjecture, whether the blush (for


there was one between us) was the as if he were sole tenant of the deproperty of the nymph, or the swain, sart.-- The individual rabble (I rein this dilemma. From me you shall cognized more than one of their ugly never get the secret.

faces) had damned a slight piece of I am not much a friend to out-of- mine but a few nights before, and I doors reading. I cannot settle iny was determined the culprits should spirits to it. I knew a Unitarian not a second time put me out of minister, who was generally to be countenance. seen upon Snow-hill (as yet Skin

There is a lass of street-readers, ner’s-street was not), between the whom I can never contemplate withhours of ten and eleven in the morn- out affection--the poor gentry, who, ing, studying a volume of Lardner. not having wherewithal to buy, or I own this to have been a strain of hire, a book, filch a little learning at abstraction beyond my reach. I used the open stalls—the owner, with his to admire how he sidled along, keep- hard eye, casting envious looks at ing clear of secular contacts. An il- them all the while, and thinking when literate encounter with a porter's they will have done. Venturing tenknot, or a bread-basket, would have derly, page after page, expecting every quickly put to flight all the theology moment when he shall 'interpose his I am master of, and have left me interdict, and yet unable to deny worse than indifferent to the five themselves the gratification, they points.

“ snatch a fearful joy.” Martin B-, I was once amused—there is a in this way, by daily fragments, got pleasure in affecting affectation-at through two volumes of Clarissa, the indignation of a crowd that was when the stall-keeper damped his justling in with me at the pit door laudable ambition, by asking him (it of Covent Garden theatre, to have a was in his younger days) whether he sight of Master Betty--then at once meant to purchase the work. M. in his dawn and his meridian-in declares, that under no circumstances Hamlet. I had been invited quite of his life did he ever peruse a book unexpectedly to join a party, whom with half the satisfaction which he I met near the door of the play- took in those uneasy snatches. A house, and I happened to have in quaint poetess of our day has moramy hand a large octavo of Johnson lized upon this subject in two very and Steevens's Shakspeare, which, the touching but homely stanzas. time not admitting of my carrying it home, of course went with me to the theatre. Just in the very heat and I saw a boy with eager eye pressure of the doors opening—the And read, as he'd devour it all ;

Open a book upon a stall, rush, as they term it-1 deliberately Which when the stall-man did espy, held the volume over my head, open Soon to the boy I heard him call, at the scene in which the young Ro- “ You, Sir, you never buy a book, scious had been most cried up, and Therefore in one you shall not look." quietly read by the lamp-light. The The boy pass'd slowly on, and with a sigh clamour became universal. - The He wish'd he never had been taught to read, affectation of the fellow," cried one. Then of the old churl's books he should “ Look at that gentleman reading,

have had no need. papa,” squeaked a young lady, who Of sufferings the poor have many, in her admiration of the novelty al. Which never can the rich annoy: most forgot her fears. I read on. I soon perceiv'd another boy, “ He ought to have his book knocked Who look'd as if he'd not had any out of his hand,” exclaimed a pursy Food, for that day at least-enjoy cit, whose arms were too fast pi- The sight of cold meat in a tavern larder. nioned to his side to suffer him to This boy's case, then thought I, is surely execute his kind intention. Still I

harder, read on-and, till the time came to

Thus hungry, longing, thus without a

penny, pay my money, kept as unmoved, as Saint Antony at his Holy Offices, No wonder if he wish he ne'er had learn'd

Beholding choice of dainty-dressed meat : with the satyrs, apes, and hobgoblins, mopping, and making mouths

ELIA, at him, in the picture, while the good

(To be continued.) man sits as undisturbed at the sight,


to eat.


No. V.


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Walk in, ladies and gentlemen ; the show is just going to begin!

Bartlemy-Fair Showman. That this cvil wants a remedy is not to be contested ; nor can it be denied, that the theatre is as capable of being preserved by a reformation as matters of more importance ; which, for the honour of our national taste, I could wish were attempted ; and then, if it could not subsist under decent regulations, by not being permitted to present any thing there, but what were worthy to be there, it would be time enough to consider whether it were necessary to let it totally fall, or effectually support it.

Cibber, Life, chap. iv. Truth may complain, and merit murmur, with what justice it may, the few will never be a match for the many, unless authority should think fit to interpose, and put down these poetical drams, these gin-shops of the stage, that intoxicate its auditors, and dishonour their understanding, with a levity for which I want a name.

Ibid. chap. xvi. I LATELY found myself in a society offence against taste and common composed chiefly of old play-goers, sense. In my own mind, I set down most of whom had been contemporary their remarks as the result of that fault with, and many of them the com- so common to age,-a blind partiality panions of the Burkes, the Johnsons, to past times at the expense of the the Garricks, the Reynoldses, and present; and in other words I told the other eminent men who contri- them so. “ So, gentlemen,” said I, buted to render the period at which “ you make no allowance for the they lived so remarkable in the an- progress of taste? We are an ennals of British literature, taste, and lightened people; the age we live in wit. The conversation was entirely is enlightened ; every day brings us theatrical, and consisted, on their a step nearer towards perfection; the parts, of bitter contrasts between last thirty years have worked great the drama as it existed in their time, changes, produced great inventions, and, what they chose to term, its wonderful improvements, astonishing present degraded state. « In our discoveries. Burke," I continued, time," said one, “ a sensible man “never crossed the channel in a steammight go to a theatre and be sure of boat; the homeward path of Johnan evening's rational entertainment.” son from his favourite club, never " Aye, Sir,” said another, “ you and was illumined by gas; and-and-" I have found ourselves in the pit of (hurrying to my conclusion,-consiold Drury, on the same bench with dering it waste of time to argue with Burke, and Charles Fox, and John- persons so senseless and so prejuson, and Dunning, listening to Shak- diced withal)— the drama too has speare, or Farquhar, or poor Brins- undergone its improvements.” “ The ley. We have seen there, assembled drama!” they all ejaculated at once, around us, a cluster of eminent “show, sniveling sentiment, balderstatesmen, profound lawyers, ele- dash, and mummery—the drama!" gant poets, brilliant wits, aye, and Finding the modern drama so congrave divines too, who considered an temptuously treated by these chamevening spent at the theatre an even- pions of the old school, I brought ing well spent, not one of whom but the main supporters of the new would now blush at being caught school successively in review before there.” All this was very painful to them. “ Farquhar, and Vanbrugh, me-Me, the collector and illustrator and Sheridan, - were pretty fellows in of the Beaucies of the Living Dra- their day,' but has either of them left matists! Blush at being caught there! us such a comedy as Virtue's Harvest as if being caught at a royal, patent, Home, or as La Belle Assemblée?” legitimate theatre, were like being “ No," was the reply, but delivered, discovered at a booth in Smithfield, or as I fancied, in a tone of irony which detected in aiding and abetting some considerably displeased me. Can VOL. VI.


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