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Pandæmonium, Oct. 9, 1827.

MEPHISTOPHILES, alias BEELZEBUB, alias

PLUTO;
To Mr. B. BOUVERIE, Greeting :-

Sir;

I am very much scandalized at the impudent and reckless way

in which my name is handled in your upper world, and amongst none more so than

your

Etonians. You cannot but feel, Sir, that it is impossible for me, in honour, to sit here and hear myself and mine talked of with impunity, in such a way as that with which my ears are perpetually insulted. Sulphur and Brimstone! It is enough to make a man (much more then a devil) go stark staring mad. If any thing is ugly, mischievous, or has any bad quality about it, I am instantly made the climax of all rascality : a jackass, for example, is “ as ugly and mischievous as the devil ;” a most flattering comparison for me, and well drawn !

and well drawn ! Not that I mean to assert that, since horns and hoofs are not the reigning fashion, I am a perfect Adonis, nor do I mean to deny, that I may now and then have lent a hand to a spiteful trick or two; but if I am not quite a model of beauty, how are you, as I presume I am no personal acquaintance of your's, how are you to know it? Milton says, I am peculiarly handsome; the Indians paint me white, and what grounds have you for opposing yourselves to these most respectable authorities, and for making me such a disgusting black brute as you generally do? And granting my physiognomy to be none of the handsomest,

is that any reason that you should perpetually be dinning it into my ears ?-Well, then fruit is “as sour as the devil ;”, the weather is “as cold as the devil.” Now, upon my honour, Sir, this last is a fault of which my worst enemies have seldom accused me : in fact, the inconvenience which is generally found in my climate is, that it is rather sultry than otherwise, so that to stand by your own notions of the matter, you do not say much for the coolness of a day in comparing it with me.--Indeed I cannot conceive what you take me to be, when you ring on me the changes of hot and cold, sour and sweet, sharp and stupid, in such an extraordinary manner

as is

your custom.

There is one point, however, which, if your actions came up to your words, would amply compensate me for all your libels, I mean your unbounded liberality; any thing which happens not exactly to meet your fancy is unhesitatingly and unconditionally handed over to me. What an accession both of subjects and treasures should I receive; what libraries of Virgils, Horaces, and Homers; what repositories of bats and balls ; what fleets of boats would daily descend, if all your generous ejaculations were to take effect. But of this I am afraid there is very little chance; so, Mr. Bouverie, as a small recompense for the insulting comparisons of which I am eternally the subject, I think that you ought to try your hand at a panegyric. I have not had an Ode, Sonnet, or anything of the kind addressed to me since Burns's

“O thou, whatever title suit thee,
Auld Nick, auld Hornie, or auld Clootie,
Come from thy mansions drear and sootie.” &c.

as any

And some even of this is not of the most complimentary kind; and really, Mr. Bouverie, I do not see why I should not look just as well at the beginning of a poem,

of
your

heathen and unchristianlike Gods and Goddesses. You can stuff in quite as much bother about what name you shall call me, as you could with them, since really I boast a very tolerable catalogue; and, as for the Muses helping you, I doubt, most Heliconian Bartholomew, that I could do pretty much the same as they would. And now, having constituted you my poet

eate, I shall expect something pretty handsome in your next Number; and if I do not see any thing, you may depend on hearing from me again, and that not in the most conciliatory manner, though at present,

I am,

Your most obedient, humble servant,

MEPHISTOPHILES.

EPISTLE FROM A PAIR OF OLD SHOES.

On looking into a small closet of mine the other day, I observed an old pair of shoes which had long been laid aside, trembling and shaking in a most extraordinary manner; I not well knowing what was the matter, took them up, and saw inside one of them the following eloquent Epistle :

Sir;

We both agree in considering your behaviour to us as ungentlemanlike in the highest degree; in considering

it a most mean and ungrateful action, to let two faithful old servants, such as we have been to you for time immemorial, pine away in neglected solitude. Solitude did I say? No; fifty times worse than the worst of solitudes, is the company in which you have dared to place us !

We, Sir, who have supported you through thick and thin for no less than a year; we, Sir, who have unshrinkingly borne the foot-ball of November, the shooting of December, and the muddy leaping of January and February; we, Sir, who have been forty-six times wet through in your service, and as many times parboiled on the hob, to “get the wet out of us ;" we, who have been four times soled, and twice patched, once left in a quagmire for six hours (at least my brother shoe had that misfortune, I stuck close), three times sent floating down the Thames, and now are better than new; we, Sir, are the persons whom

you insult by shutting us up in a hot closet, with a pair of effeminate slippers, and another of snipper-snapper pumps ; a rascally pair of coxcombs, who have never known what it was to feel a drop of rain, and who would leak like a piece of muslin in a minute's walking in a muddy street.

My very lining burns within me at the bare recapitulation of the insults I have received ! Were I not already jet-black with Warren's blacking, I should turn so with rage and indignation. A pair of pumps ! ' A pair of jack-a-dandies !

“Quos ego—sed motam præstat componere mentem." and yet I'll have a kick at them.-Zounds! Sir, how any one who pretends to be a person of any decency can

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