Mr Millinan’s* works were all new fore like to see the British Critic, which to me--at least I had seen only some is a work of sound principles, eulogize extracts from his poetry in the Re- him warmly, and he deserves it. One views and in your Magazine. I freely of the Old Monthly reviewers has late confess, that I think the able and elo- ly got tipsy, and written about Mr quent critie who reviewed his Martyr Millman in his cups, which surprises of Antioch, in your work, was rather me, for I thought the Monthly reviewchary of his praise. I do not know ers were sober men. He calls the Ox. which of his

three Poems are the most ford Professor of Poetry " the sun of beautiful. They are all classical, ele- our poetical hemisphere" at present. gant, stately, and even magnificent com- If the old gentleman had just looked. positions ; and surely Oxford may well to his own candle, he would have seen be proud of such a Professor of Poetry. a dozen suns all burning away, each His scholarship has not overlaid his as well entitled to that glowing appelnative feeling, and his imagination lation as Mr Millman. But the Profesmoves without constraint in the fet- sor is not to be cut up, because an old ters which he has imposed upon it. Rural Dean chooses to write an article His lyrical strains are certainly very over a jorum. fine; their harmony, if not various, is As to the “ Fortunes of Nigel," I deep and long-drawn out,--and where took up the three volumes, and placed there is fine music of versification, the two last right before me on the there is almost always fine poetry too, table within grasp, so that no intruder as Coleridge, I think, has remarked should touch them; and the first I somewhere among his multitudinous seized, as you would stick your

fork thoughts. It is scarcely fair to ask what into a how-towdy when dining alone Mr Millman has added to the stock of at Ambrose's, and deposit it bodily English poetry, as your critic does, for

on your own plate. I devoured it that question, taken in its largest mean- with greedy eyes, and, having begun ing, would be a severe one to ask of my repast about 10 o'clock, A. M., I any living poet, except perhaps Words- discussed all the three volumes, and worth and Scott. It seems to me, that reached the word “end” a little before a man who, like Mr Millman, has pro- 6 P. M. This is reading at about the duced, before five-and-thirty, an ex- rate of a mile a minute, and I deserve cellent acting play like Fazio, full of the name of the flying Childers. What the spirit of the ancient drama, a splen- life, spirit, animation, stir, bustle, did though heavy narrative poem of the rumpus, stramash, squabash, hullabaa olden time (Samor,) and three such loo, and the devil-to-pay! I can give regularly constructed dramatic com- no sort of account of the book, nor do positions, as the Fall of Jerusalem, I know what all the characters were Martyr of Antioch, and Belshazzar, about, or driving after, by land or wais entitled to an honourable place ter. But such intriguing, and scheamong the best living poets of his ming, and mineing, and counter-minecountry, and I do not know that ei- ing, and robbery, and murdering, sets ther he himself or his friends ask all criticism at

defiance. I had not only for more. To be sure the British Cri. a headache when I was done with it, tic is a little extravagant about Mr but felt as if I were black and blue, Millman, but why not? His poetry has such a banging, and basting, and shaa high, moral, and religious spirit, and king, did I, the reader, seem to have Mr Millman is a clergyman. I there- received. It was glorious sport, and a

. We take this opportunity of assuring Mr Millman, that a single word from him is sufficient to remove from our minds all suspicion of his having borrowed his Martyr of Antioch, from “ Valerius." The coincidences which he himself admits, in his preface to Belshazzar, are numerous and striking ; indeed so much so, that it was not possible for us to think otherwise, than that he had been indebted to the Novel, for many of the best things in his Tragedy. He has told us that his Tragedy was written before Valerius was published ; and we believe it, on his word, just as completely as if we ourselves had seen it in Manuscript. But we have no doubt that Mr Millman himself must think that our strictures were perfectly justified at the time, by the very remarkable coincidences pointed out; and we have real pleasure in finding that we have not to make such formidable deductions from his originality, as, had be seen Valerius, would have been altogether inevitable.-C. N.

fox-chase is nothing to it. I have lent The book is open before me at the my copy to a fat old woman, who sits description of two dogs ;-which dogs in an easy chair, with three immense are absolute fac-similes of two people pillows under her, and I am curious we both know, who are in the absurd to see her set a-going on the pad. What habit of abusing your Magazine. I would a Quaker think of such a book ? cannot resist the temptation and pleaBy the way, the author should give ussure of copying it now for your own a Quaker. Did you ever see an Irish private perusal. “ One is a fat spaQuaker? Till you see and hear that, niel, called Zephyr,—though heaven you

have seen and heard nothing. defend me from such a Zephyr. He Bracebridge Hall is, I think, a great is fed out of all shape and comfort; improvement on the Sketch-Book. his eyes are nearly strained out of his There is more manliness in it-more head'; he wheezes with corpulency, nerve-more variety-more humour, and cannot walk without great diffiand it is far more truly English. Wash- culty. The other is a little old grayington Irving is of the right sort. His muzzled curmudgeon, with an unhappy heart is in its right place. Curse the eye, (HOW PERFECTLY LIKE!) that Cockneys for pretending to admire him kindles like a coal if you only look at and pinch his little finger if he ever him ; his nose turns up; his mouth be found admiring the Cockneys. He is drawn into wrinkles, so as to shew is a plain, simple, earnest, well-in- bis teeth ; in short, he has altogether formed, observant, amiable man of the look of a dog far gone in misangenius. He must be a very happy man. thropy, and totally sick of the world, He has enjoyed the woods of his own When he walks, he has his tail curled America-he is proud of her charac- up so tight that it seems to lift his feet ter and destinies--not certainly with from the ground; and he seldom makes out reason, and yet he is tenderly and use of more than three legs at a time, reverently attached to his old father. keeping the other drawn up as a reland. There is nothing hard, coarse, or serve. This last wretch is called BEAUilliberal, in the American part of his nature. His John Bullism is absolutely The “ Mohawks” was not cut up gruff at times;

-and he is a citizen of when you sent it to me, and I have the world, without losing any thing of uot yet run my knife though it,-but the individuality of Washington Jona- from the first page, I fear the author than Irving. Washington is a noble is an ass, which I regret. name, and Irving is not a bad one- Pardon, my dear sir, all the nonThe two together will last a long time. sense of this long scrawl, which, if I

The Stout gentleman” ought to be were to read it over, I am sure I could put into the Magazine, as one of the not have the face to put into the postmost pleasant of extravagancies. I office. Once more accept my warmest like his humour better than his pure thanks for your kindness and believe pathos. In the latter, he is far far in- me to be, my dear sir, yours very ferior to the author of “ Lights and truly. Shadows.” But his humour is exqui.

FRANCIS FREEMAN. site-so easy, natural, and amiable, June, 16. and often so cunning and original.



Peebles, 8th June. pool for you! just below Old Nidpath,

(I have been at Peebles for a week,) and That I should write articles during À propose forth with plunging to the botthis stewing, boiling, and roasting tom, and lying there for at least half an mouth of June, is what you never can hour, till the sun has withdrawn beexpect, unreasonable as I know you hind a cloud. The day is so infernally are, and indeed crazy, on the subject hot, that the very sun himself cannot of Maga. My travelling thermometer, stand it; and his great red face is all in and I never heard its accuracy doubts a pour of sweat.-A glorious plungeed, is now at 870 in the shade. So I bath !-here it goes. That squash must bathe. There is a fine deep black in the water must have been heard

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through all Peebles ; for I floundered Mononday; but he gied a wallop wi' like a whale. What delicious fresh his wame, and brak my

ten-hair-tack ness penetrates my existence ! See how ling, like Sampson among the PhiI swim ! what strokes ! And now be listines. Safe us, sir, did you ginnel, hold the fundamental feature on which or girn him ? or did ye dive down the science hinges ! I am floating-- upon him, like an ettar, and bring now I tread water-that is an aquatic him up in your mouth, with your somerset-down to the gravel like a teeth in his shouther?"_" Take him plummet-up to the surface like an up cannily, my noble Gualterus air-bell-away across, like a salmon carry him, with my compliments, to with a hook in his tongue-and now our good friend near the Cuddy Brigg, bolt up out of the water altogether, and do you look in upon us about six like a whitling attempting in vain to this evening, when we are sweetening break Mrs Phin's everlasting tackle. the jug.".. Walter is just gone, and I Oh, that Lord Byron were but here! observe him lecturing on the TROUT, I would swim-dive-float-tread wa. at a bend of the river to a linn-full of ter-foundersquash, and squabash bathers, who are crowding naked round him for a thousand pounds. He him, with hands held up in astonishSWIM !! Why I offer to swim him ment. Ob, my dear Ebony, what a with one hand tied behind my back! dinner we shall have ! There's for you. But somewhat too Nidpath Castle! Thou art really, much of this-As I am a Christian bona fide, a most respectable old body and a Contributor, what a shew of of a ruin. I wish I were a rook to fly Trouts! There they lie panting and round thy airy battlements. Do I gasping with their wide open mouths fancy that I smell the odours of that and gills, like a party of Glasgowites wide flush of wall-flower, that absoat the Largs, round the Devil's

Punch lutely stains, in yellow beauty, yonder Bowl. I see one rascal about a yard angle of a tower from rock to pinnalong he cannot weigh less than a do- cle? A lady of Romance appears! zen pounds. By the shade of old Isaac, No, no, thou art only the daughter of I will girn him! Did you ever girn, a weaver of woollens; but at that disEbony? But hush-not a breeze is stir tance, it matters not to me who thou ring-the pool is crystal-and I can- art.-Come down, my pretty dove, not miss hím. (I girn)-I have land- and bathe thy fair plumage in this ed him-he is not so big as I thought silvery pool! But this is too much to --the tip of his nose is at this blessed expect; and I forget that I am sitting moment touching the tip of the middle here, in a state of nature, beneath the finger of my left hand, and his cloven shadow of a beech-tree. I find some tail cools my pectoral muscle. That difficulty in getting down my breeches is his extreme length to an inch. His from that branch. Now they are on, belly is yellow, as the gold-sand of and I begin once more to feel myself Pactolus, and most beautifully starred belonging to civilized life. How mysis his side-a perfect_galaxy. A sile terious is the influence of dress! My very haze veils the dazzling bright, nankeens seem an integral part of myness--and the flowery sod is tamed on self. I rejoice in my spotted waistwhich he lies. To think that such a coat. My jacket has literally a Jembeautiful creature should die !-be my character; and I feel my shirt to roasted and devoured by myself, and be mine, even more than my very a few voracious cronies, before three skin. I am now fit to go to church, o'clock. I could moralize for hours on and hear sermon-to walk into a room the redness of his gills.—But there full of ladies—to hold up my head in goes Walter Ritchie. Hollo, Walter ! the market-place-to sit in the towns (Walter Ritchie comes sliding down hall, and be made a burgess of Peethe high wooded bank upon his breech, bles. Undressed, I could have done catching by the broom and birches.) none of these things. Then I felt as “Gualterus, well mayst thou turn up if it were my destiny to traverse fothe white of thine eyes ; saw ye ever rests and deserts--to swim down great such a phenix of a trout?"_"A rivers, such as the Oronoco, or the phænix, call ye him? I thought a Barumpooter-and to swim away on a phænix had been a bird of the Ture voyage of discovery, into the centre of key-breed. Safe us, he's like a fish, the ocean. Such a change is effected I hyucked him wi' the May-flee last by simply putting one leg slowly after

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another into a pair of breeches, and and then one of us stole on tip-toe, as tying one's neckcloth with a rose-like if afraid to disturb the cook, into the bud in front. I leave all such wild kitchen, and reported progress. “How exploits to Parks and Parrys; and am is his tail now?” cried Archy: “ Curl. satisfied to stroll away down at my ing up the great snout o him," anleisure into the Gude Town of Peebles. swered the Bailie. “ He has the

I have been asleep for three hours. shouthers o' a saumont, maistet," The moment I sat down in the Bail. cried Girzzy, exulting over her bandylie's arm-chair, I felt the influence of work—" Haud back, my bonny man, the drowsy god. The Baillie himself (I like a compliment to my personal is still fast and sound, on the opposite appearance,) þaud back, sir, gin you side of the chimney. The grate is please-you grupped him yoursel, and filled with hawthorn, white as snow, ye sall eat him yoursel - I'm just gaun and odorous as incense. What a pro- to dish-ae flaster o' the pepper mug found face is the Baillie's! That man-and then on wi' him on the trenehnever injured a fly, who can thus er!” The Amazon lifted the pan off sleep. It seems as if an idea, or a the fire, and wafting it to the dresser, feeling, had never cast its light or shade half-trundled the noble animal into over that face !-" Dear God,” as Mr a dish that would have held a sirloin, Wordsworth says, “ the very house and bearing him triumphantly aloft seems asleep." “ Come, Bailie, awake, over her head, with arms red as those arise, or be for ever fallen! Paillie, i of the morning, she crowned the board say, it is near three. I hear the trout with the monarch of the flood. fizzing in the pan, down by yonder at Did you ever see a pack of hounds the bridge." I must pull his nose. It worrying a fox? Think on them and won't do--off with his wig, and rub then on us. What guzzling! The great his pate with a towel-still he sleeps drops of sweat stood on every forehead, -tickle his nostrils with a feather- and I saw them plashing off that of now with the nib of my pen-still he our host into his trencher—but I put sleeps-he opens his lack-lustre eyes, my hand to my own brow, and said but they see me not, any

more than a nothing. “ Lord forgie me-but I couple of oysters. “Oh, Bailie, Bailie, have forgotten to say grace.”—“No must I arouse you with a rattling peal wonder,” quoth I, “but we will all of thunder! The wife is routing be- return thanks." We finished him in low, as if she was mad. Hech sirs, four minutes-from the tip of the man, give one great gant, and be tail to the tip of the snout. His very done with it. Our friends are gone fins were devoured, and we made no down the street; and Archy looked bones of him. Like the great globe up with the tail of his e'e as he passed. itself, he left not a wreck behind. I He will have fastened on the trout felt a strong inclination to lick my before we arrive. Come, Bailie, look plate, but delicacy forbade. “ Here's sharp."

a gran' bag of worms?" cried Watty Four hours have elapsed since I Ritchie, standing at the door that had wrote the last paragraph, as you will been left half open, to admit a little perceive by the colour of the ink, and cool air from the kitchen fire.“ Rax perhaps before I finish, by the hen-foot them ower here," I replied ; and a fisorawl of my hand-writing. I confess ner collection of worms I never saw that I am barely soberbut howcould I, bagged. I raised up a red bunch of after thirteen jugs between four of us? them with my thumb, as they nestled I am no epicure-you know that—but in the dewy moss, and then handed SUCH A TROUT!!! It was done in the round the little odorous bag for genepan by itself-not a single smallfry was ral admiration. This was during the suffered to lie by its lordly bulk. How interval between sermons I beg pare it sucked in the great dabs of rich don, between courses. But the wormfresh butter, that the scooping thumb bag was removed, and in came the of Girzzy ever and anon plumped into cold round and the pigeon-pie. It that pan! nearly a pound ! a gentle now seemed as if the trout had merefizzing, now deepening, now dying ly given us a whet, and large tripeaway, filled the whole house. Scarcely like slices, comprehending the whole a word was spoken. We sat looking rotundity of beef, came ever and anon on each other's well-pleased faces, and flapping upon the plate of each delistening the fiz-z-z-2-2-2-2-7. Now lighted individual, to melt away like

snow or a dream. They disappeared bottle of whisky I have lately dispatchlike perfect pancakes ; and the full fic ed, I could not well miss being in a gure of our landlord, which had for a state of utter inebriation. I rememwhile been partially concealed from my ber the general heads of our discourse view by the intervening Round, was well enough, but the subordinate dea now visible down alınost to the waist- tails are very indistinct. We certainly band. It was small-stot ; and the discussed the agricultural distresses, mustard was from Dickson. I finished and I remember that Watty Ritchie off with a pair of well-spiced pigeons, agreed with Ricardo, but he was very and the large lump of crust in the na- severe on Mr Canning's Bill about vel of the pie, the taste of which I the Irish Peers. Angling, of course, shall carry with me to the grave. The was treated in all its branches-from whole was washed well down with whale to minnow; and I thought Edinburgh ale and London porter, and mine Host's toast a pretty one, " The a caulker of Glenlivet made it all safe Music o'the Pirn.". Oh! there is no as the rock of Gibraltar.

such inspiriting and agitating sound We were just four-and we manu- below the spheres, as the whirr-whirr factured three jugs each-a bottle of —whirr-whirr—when a fish runs you the cretur going to every triad. The out like lightning, with twenty "fathirteenth jug was “good afternoon, thom of line. 1. The heart to the and luck be with us all.” Watty took mou' gies a sten.” It is as dear as the his bottle raw.

declaration of a virgin's love" like, I wish that I could give you a sum

but oh ! how different!”—The cham. mary of our conversation, but there is ber-maid is at the door with my beda strange noise in my head, like the room candle-I must make an effort swarming of bees. I feel persuaded to stand-go on, I'll follow thee that were I to attempt rising up, I * could not stand either by hook or I copy

these stars from a page in crook. That confounded fresh air, on Adam Blair. my way up from the bridge, hasgot into. Yours, with the greatest respect, my upper story, andif it were not for the



THE Reader will see that in fact the whole of this Number of THE MAGAZINE is a REVIEW: for, the three Letters, with which it winds up, form not much of an exception. We wish people would just look at this REVIEW of ours, and compare it with others—but of this enough. Our next Number, will, of course, be something totally different, while it is not unlikely, (if one may judge from the past,) that the next Number of the New Monthly, London, &c. &c. &c. will be nothing but Reviews. So goes it with the Servum Pecus, who think they can rival us by copying the very tricks of our Printer's Devils--the peculiarities of semi-colons—the exact angle of our marks of admiration. But to have done with those jaded Posthorses who run in three different Stages sometimes, and in all equally lamely, Gentle Reader,

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