STANZAS WRITTEN IN A PARK IN SURREY, OCTOBER, 1820. THE earlier frosts had long begun The beeches' gloss fled fast away, By the loud uproar of the din, Pour'd thro' yon swaying avenue; See how the deer are crowding round Aye, wind of autumn, wild and rude Thou com'st to rend, with ruthless hand, The sickening foliage of the wood; For all that spring, with nurture bland, Thy hands are busy, noisy blast, Yet no -the oak and beech shall still It scorns you both, defies your bluster, Like leaves from some deciduous tree, And gain those stabler tastes, which stay! May I accomplishments possess, To make me-like the holly bower Retain a cheering leafiness, Yea, even in age's wintry hour. R. PROLOGUE SPOKEN BEFORE A PRIVATE THEATRICAL PERFORMANCE IN MANCHESTER. HIGH o'er the drama's visionary scene Our hearts, bewitch'd, submissive own her sway- Call'd by her power, and by her influence led, And Kings and Cæsars issue from their sleep; And thou, bright power, in whose exhaustless mine The many-colour'd gems of genius shine; At whose command new light-form'd Ariels rise, THE AYRSHIRE LEGATEES. RESPONSIVE NOTICES TO CORRESPONDENTS. We can assure Mr Gilbert Modiwart of Dunmailing, that he is quite mistaken in supposing that any legal interdict has been fulminated against the Ayrshire Legatees. The suspension last month of the Pringle correspondence was altogether owing to the absence of Mr M'Gruel, who was called to the island of Arran, to attend Mrs Fukite, a rich Glasgow manufacturer's wife, who was residing at Lamlash, for the benefit of sea-bathing, having been for some time before liable to eat more, as she said herself, than did her good. By the aid of a regimen, which he prescribed, she greatly improved in her health, without impairing her corpulency, which we mention to his professional credit. For a lean Glasgow lady would be a phenomenon totally unaccountable, considering the manner of living encouraged in that opulent city. Our readers will be pleased to hear, that Mr M'Gruel, in his letter, explaining the cause of the interruption which had taken place in his communications, mentions, that he spent the time of his visit to Arran in a most agreeable manner, the Miss Fukites being highly accomplished young ladies, particularly Miss Meg, the second daughter, who wallops the Highland fling with a true mountain grace, and can actually play reels on the pianoforte with very little of that peculiarity which may be called the Glasgow musical accent, and which we have heard, scandalously, it is true, described as the dead rattle in the throat of a murdered strathspey. We are much at a loss to understand what Senex means, and we beg he would be more explicit. It is impossible that we can judge of our correspondents otherwise than by the temper and style in which they address us. We should certainly never have imagined, that the author of the letter from Greenock, signed James Thegite, attempted to impose upon us, for it was written in a calm dispassionate gentlemanly manner; and had all the marks of the most respectable authenticity.-Senex, we are inclined to think, is himself under the influence of some delusion, or rather we suspect he has tried to play off a shallow trick on us, for his letter bears the Port-Glasgow postmark, and is evidently written in a most confounded passion, though he affects to be all gentleness and candour. What Themistocles of Paisley says, concerning the beautiful gardens and polar monster in the menagerie of Mr John Love, may be all perfectly true, but, as the Pringle family do not appear to have visited that town, we see not how we could introduce the subject, unless Mr M'Gruel should have occasion to take a jaunt that length. We must, however, be permitted to observe, that the signature Themistocles is so indicatory of that radical spirit which has been rather too strongly manifested in and about Paisley, that we wish our correspondent would assume some other namé. Dr Rowet of Ayr, has fallen into the greatest mistake possible, in thinking it necessary to contradict to us the report that he had been left a legacy by Colonel Armour. For his sake, we wish it had been the case, especially as we have been informed by our regular correspondent in Ayr, that his practice has greatly fallen off since he committed that unfortunate and fatal error, attended with such dreadful consequences to the late Provost Haddock. Once for all, we beg to tell our Irvine friend, that we will not be plagued with him. He may think what he pleases, and say what he chooses, but the Pringle correspondence speaks for itself. As for A. B. of Glasgow, he is below contempt. The poor man may go dancing mad between the Cross and the Blackbull inn; but, all the noise that he can make, will only help to augment the interest we have excited. We can easily believe, that he has touched neither turtle soup, nor lime punch, this season. He, we are confident, does not move in the urbane sphere of the great West Indians. But more of him anon. It is with sincere pain, that we find the writers in a paltry publication, which is hardly known beyond the limits of Cockaigne, are in the greatest consternation and alarm, lest we should fall upon them. We VOL. VIII. 2 K beg to assure them, we have no such intention; and, if they will only have the condescension to send us their names,-for celebrated as they are among themselves, they are quite unknown here-we shall take care not to admit into our pages any thing that might tend to lessen their insignificance. THE AYRSHIRE LEGATEES; Or, the Correspondence of the Pringle Family. 1 No. VI. As the spring advanced, the beauty of the country around Garnock was gradually unfolded; the blossom was unclosed, while the church was embraced within the foliage of more umbrageous boughs. The schoolboys from the adjacent villages were, on the Saturday afternoon, frequently seen angling along the banks of the Lugton, which ran clearer beneath the church-yard wall, and the hedge of the minister's glebe; and the evenings were so much lengthened, that the occasional visitors at the manse could prolong their walk after tea.— These, however, were less numerous than when the family were at home, but still Mr Snodgrass, when the weather was fine, had no reason to deplore the loneliness of his bachelor's court. It happened that, one fair and sunny afternoon, Miss Mally Glencairn, and Miss Isabella Todd, came to the manse. Mrs Glibbans and her daughter Becky were the same day paying their first ceremonious visit, as the matron called it, to Mr and Mrs Craig, with whom the whole party were invited to take tea, and for lack of more amusing chit-chat, the Reverend young gentleman read to them the last letter which he had received from Mr Andrew Pringle. It was conjured naturally enough out of his pocket, by an observation of Miss Mally's. "Nothing surprises me," said that amiable maiden lady," so much as the health and good humour of the commonality. It is a joyous refutation of the opinion, that the comfort and happiness of this life depends on the wealth of worldly possessions." "It is so," replied Mr Snodgrass," and I do often wonder, when I see the blithe and hearty children of the cottars frolicking in the abundance of health and hilarity, where the means come from to enable their poor industrious parents to supply their wants." "How can you wonder at ony sick things, Mr Snodgrass, do they not come from on High," said Mrs Glibbans, "whence cometh every good and perfect gift. Is there not the flowers of the field, which neither card nor spin, and yet Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these." "I was not speaking in a spiritual sense," interrupted the other, "but merely made the remark, as introductory to a letter, which I have received from Mr Andrew Pringle, respecting some of the ways of living in London." Mrs Craig, who had been so recently translated from the kitchen to the parlour, pricked up her ears at this, not doubting, that the letter would contain something very grand and wonderful, and exclaimed, "gude safe's let's hear❜t-I am unco fond to ken about London, and the King and the Queen; but I believe they are baith dead noo." Miss Becky Glibbans gave a satirical keckle at this, and shewed her superior learning, by explaining to Mrs Craig the unbroken nature of the kingly office. Mr Snodgrass then read as follows: ANDREW PRINGLE, ESQ. TO THE REV. CHARLES SNODGRASS. MY DEAR FRIEND, You are not aware of the task you impose, when you request me to send you some account of the general way of living in London. Unless you come here, and actually experience yourself what I would call the London ache, it is impossible to supply you with any adequate idea of the necessity that exists in this wilderness of mankind, to seek refuge in society without being over fastidious with respect to the intellectual qualifications of your occasional associates. In a remote desart, the solitary traveller is subject to apprehensions of danger, but still he is the most important thing "within the circle of that lonely waste;" and the sense of his own dig nity enables him to sustain the shock of considerable hazard with spirit and fortitude. But, in London, the feeling of self-importance is totally lost and suppressed in the bosom of a stran ger. A painful conviction of insignificance of nothingness, I may say, is sunk upon his heart, and murmured in his ear by the million, who divide with him that consequence which he unconsciously before supposed he possessed in a general estimate of the world. While elbowing my way through the unknown multitude, that flows between Charing Cross and the Royal Exchange, this mortifying sense of my own insignificance has often come upon me with the energy of a pang, and I have thought, that after all we can say of any man, the effect of the greatest influence of an individual on society at large, is but as that of a pebble thrown into the sea. Mathematically speaking, the undulations which the pebble causes, continue until the whole mass of the ocean has been disturbed to the bottom of its most secret depths and farthest shores; and perhaps, with equal truth it may be affirmed, that the sentiments of the man of genius are also infinitely propagated; but how soon the physical impression of the one is lost to every sensible perception, and the moral impulse of the other swallowed up from all practical effect. But though London, in the general, may be justly compared to the vast and restless ocean, or to any other thing that is either sublime, incomprehensible, or affecting, it loses all its influence over the solemn associations of the mind when it is examined in its details. For example, living on the town, as it is slangishly called, the most friendless and isolated condition possible is yet fraught with an amazing diversity of enjoyment. Thousands of gentlemen, who have survived the relish of active fashionable pursuits, pass their life in that state without tasting the delight of one new sensation. They rise in the morning merely because Nature will not allow them to remain longer in bed. They begin the day without motive or purpose, and close it after having performed the same unvaried round as the most thorough-bred domestic animal that ever dwelt in manse or manor-house. If you ask them at three o'clock where they are to dine, they cannot tell you; but about the wonted dinner hour, batches of these forlorn bachelors find themselves diurnally congregated, as if by instinct, around a cozy table in some snug coffeehouse, where, after inspecting the contents of the bill of fare, they discuss the news of the day, reserving the scandal, by way of desert, for their wine. Day after day their respective political opinions give rise to keen encounters, but without producing the slightest shade of change in any of their old ingrained and particular sentiments. Some of their haunts, I mean those frequented by the elderly race, are shabby enough in their appearance and circumstances, except perhaps in the quality of the wine. Every thing in them is regulated by an ancient and precise economy, and you perceive, at the first glance, that all is calculated on the principle of the house giving as much for the money as it can possibly afford, without infringing those little etiquettes which persons of gentlemanly habits regard as essentials. At half price the junior members of these unorganized or na tural clubs retire to the theatres, while the elder brethren mind their potations till it is time to go home. This seems a very comfortless way of life, but I have no doubt it is the preferred result of a long experience of the world, and that the parties, upon the whole, find it superior, according to their early formed habits of dissipation and gayety, to the sedate but not more regular course of a domestic circle. The chief pleasure, however, of living on the town, consists in accidentally falling in with persons whom it might be otherwise difficult to meet in private life. I have several times enjoyed this. The other day I fell in with an old gentleman, evidently a man of some consequence, for he came to the coffee-house in his own carriage. It happened that we were the only guests, and he proposed that we should therefore dine together. In the course of conversation it came out, that he had been familiarly acquainted with Garrick, and had frequented the literary club in the days of Johnson and Goldsmith. In his youth, I conceive, he must have been an amusing companion; for his fancy was exceed |