Page images
PDF
EPUB

wee in

are twice bairns, and that there is nae fule like an auld Morrison, no to boast as if a meally taty had gane fule, otherwise I canna conceive bow I lippened my- doun your wrang bause.] sell to the leading of that mad callant. I make nae Blooter.Haud your snash, Rab Tamson, I'm as doubt the refection in the boat-the gude news about gude as yoursell, ony day, and can blaw my nose as my wife's sillar and the blackamoors in the wood, as weel loud and lang as I like. as the wine and toddy after dinner, all helped to ele. Secretary.-Seelence, gentlemen—seelence, confound vate me something abune my ordinar on that night. ye, and let business purceed. The preses is in posWe may shape our bairn's wyliecoat, but we canna session of the house, the whole house, and nothing shape their wierd, says the proverb, and, as little can but the house. men, come to the years of understanding, at all times Eddie Morrison.-Aye, and a gill besides, that we'll calculate the propriety of their footsteps. Hech ! if I hae to pay for—but I'll vote for nae supplies. bad foreseen what was about to befall me on that oc- Many Voices.-Order-order-quastion-quastion. casion, it wudna hae been in the power of a fifty-horse Tam Blooter.-We wad understan' him better if he steam engine to gar me rax a tae that night. But cleared his ain snotty nose, instead o' scartin at mine. man proposes and God disposes--and it was ordained President. If I am to be assulted and interrupted that I should witness fules, and be a fule for a'e time in this way, the house must be adjourned. in

my life-sae it is needless to channer ony mair on Many Voices.-No—10—10—go on-go on-quaswhat cannot be helped.

tion-quastion. With this Diels' buckie, as I said, I took my way, and,

President~ In continuation- After this unpleasant before I weel kent where we were, intil the court-house

interruption till the business of the evening, depend of the burgh of Kilsyth, we found oursels stewing, like

upon it, me that has laboured morn and een, late potatoes, in the heart of a batch of weavers, and sic

and early, in the glorious cause of freedom, and the like clamjamffery, all gabbling and smoking or chewing

elective French cheese can bave little pleasure in laytobacco, and trying to look as wise as Solomon or the ing before my constituents, the tremendous and prolitwelve Judges of Israel. The room was

fic results of the Glasgow Senate. It was an assembly, size, laich in the roof, and desperately ill lighted up

worthy of the palmy days of Greek and Roman liberty. with twa penny candles and a cruisy, and a sconce at

The saviours of their country, the delegates from the the back of the chair that was set apart for the preses.

various Unions, scattered over the face of this wretched My young freend seemed to enjoy the company wonder- and enslaved country, sat there, clothed with the burnfully weel, and was straiking and turning up his whisk

ing aspirations of unconquered and unconquerable ers, and clavering wi this ane and that ane, speiring liberty. Depend upon it, in the bosom of your delegat, when the chairman was expected to come forward with

the sacred spark lost none of its brightness. I felt myself a statement of his mission to Glasgow, on the bill, the one of the chosen Spartan bands that left their bones whole bill, and nothing but the bill—the new charter

and blood to manure the glorious field of Thermoof the people's liberties. Hearing that this was about pylae. Depend upon it, gentlemen. You saw me Reform, my heart just began to grue, having, for the

take my departure from Kilsyth-you saw me asreasons advanced, determined to steer clear of politics,

cend the sides of the trackboat, you heard my aand kenning weel that meetings of this sort were not

dieus, and you marked the form of your delegate countenanced by government, when I was in office as melting away in the azure distance of cerulean indisa magistrate. Howsomever, I thought naebody would

tinctness. You now see me amongst you, depend ken me, and just snooled as far back intil a corner as upon it, once more with the same feelings, but more I could weel do, without whitening my good coat on

exalted hopes than those, which were mine, when I the wall. My pouches, I took special care to button

departed for Glasgow, to advance the cause of freedom, up, as weel as to see if the safety chain of my watch was and carry the suffrages of a united and determined quite right and tight. Having eased my fears on these people, in favour of the Bill, the whole Bill, and points, I determined to haud my wheisht, and hear how nothing but the Bill. Here you know nothing of poleeniatters went on.

tics; but I have learned poleetics since I went to GlasWeel, in due process of nature, in comes a man

gow-oh, we are blind, you are blind depend upon it, with a Kilmarnock cap upon his pow, a cutty pipe in

but the scales have fallen from my eyes, and I will his mouth, an apron tucked up round his waist, with

teach you the divine study of poleetics. The day of out a coat, but with stocking sleeres on his twa arms,

the bloody sabreing boroughmongers is at hand-the and takes the chair, while cries of order, order, raised a

knell of corruption is rung out,

We shall be free to din in the house that was quite unbearable. Some of do as we like, when the people are represented in a

reformed House of Commons, depend upon it. There the company, too, who had been wearying for the appearance of their directing spirit, were not slack in shall be no taxes, nor greedy tax gatherers then. expressing displeasure at the slowness of his move- Meat and maut, gentlemen, we'll have then, depend ments. A calm at last occurred, and then the chair- upon't, and nothing to pay. Every man for his own man snuffled out, like a Cameronian precentor-Mr.

hand then, according to the imperscriptible laws of

nature and natural reason, Secretar, ye will read, to the members of the union, the minutes of the last congress, which being done, A good deal more of such unconnected discourse the chairman rose, and spoke as follows, in thir indi- was bletbered, the only pairt of which that was intellividual words; for I had all my lugs about me, and gible, was when the chairman gave his account anent can keep mind, baith of speeches and sermons, when I being desired at the meeting in Glasgow, to cash up like :

the subscription from Kilsyth, and his admission that “ Gentlemen,-Members of the Kilsyth Union, and there was not a rap in their exchequer. But this freends of ceevil and religious leeberty all over the afforded to the secretary a handle for proposing, that world, ye

have heard Mr. Secretar read the minutes of a subscription should be set on foot for the exigencies our last congress, at which I was appointed delegate of the Union, which being carried by acclamation, a till proceed to Glasgow, for to attend the grand assemb- greasy bat made its devious progress through the ly of delegates that sat there, in the Trades' Hall, meeting. To my astonishment, Mr. Robert flung inupon the bill, the whole bill, and nothing but the bill, til it half a crown with the air of a nobleman, but which secures to us, for ever and ever, amen, our inali- when it came to me I said naething, though the coppers enable rights, and overthrows despotic oligarchists and, were jingled in my face twa three minutes, in fack, as corrupt boroughmongers. My freends and constitu- if it had been an elder's ladle in a landward kirk. I, ents, depend upon't, I will tell you every thing concern- however, muttered something about having nae loose ing my mission, depend upont. [Jock Blooter, mak change, thinking to mysell that my saxpence would be less din, blawin your nose, and I'll thank you, Edie better waured niest Sunday upon my ain parish puir,

than at ony sic gatherings. For this, however, I got ment, anither shaggy deevil that had been maddened some unco fierce girns, and ae dirty thin chafted hauf. with a poke in its ee, and wi a tail swirling about like a lins callant had the impudence to blaw some pluffs o'

fail, came roaring against us like a bull of Bashan, that tobacco reek direckly in my een.

rather than stand the shock, my body bearers flurg me, Weel, the meeting was nae like to skail, and me

chair, barrow and all down, and magnanimously, like being anxious to get out to the cauler air, was making

reasoning animals, betook themsells to flight. For me, I my way to the door, when the cry got up—“ He's a

lighted something saftly in a sappy midden, that in the Tory—he's a boroughmongering spy," and I felt my mercy of providence was near at band, but mair dead coat tails pookit, and a gude wheen of the lovers of free

nor alive.

In fack, the beast contented itself with dedom dunching me with their elbucks in the ribs sae de

molishing the flag, and as for the ensigns, they had vilitsch hard that my corruption began to rise; but ye

run like leeries, leaving neither hilt nor bair ahint them. may guess what kind of a tirravee I was in, when a Having sank in this bed, no certainly ane of down, lump of a chield came abint me, and, with ae dunkle something abune the shoe mouth, it was five minutes on the crown of my split-new thirty-shilling hat, drave or mair before I got mysell fairly gathered thegither, it clean ower my face, and shaved the skin aff my un

nor did I like to budge till I heard the rumours of war offending nose at the same time. Seeing my dilemma dying away far down the town.

With a heavy heart and confloption, and that the bloody rabeatours were and sair soiled raiment, I hirplit on to the laird's, where set upon insulting and abusing me, up springs my young

I found his freends waiting on me for supper, but his friend on the table, kicking ower ane of the twa penny

neer-do-weel nevoy, or whatever be was, that brought candles, which brought its lowe richt into the peery

me into sic awsome peril of life and limb, didna show e'ed secretary, and burned half a thin whisker that his impudent face that nicht. I am thinking he had the creature bad on its chafts, and then putting him

fancied I was murdered, and no wanting to face the sell in a grand attitude like a playactor, to my utter

Lords of Justiciary, got into hidings, for he was not astonishment roared out: “ Mr. President and gentle

heard tell of for a fortnight or mair ; but I was sae men, I am grieved and mortified at the conduct of my desperately mischieved, that it took sair prigging on countrymen this evening. Some ruffians have dared to the part of his respectable and afflicted parents and lift their unballowed butcherly fists against my illustri

freends, to prevent me frae publishing an advertiseous friend, the great Attwood of Birmingham—the ment in the papers, offering a reward for his apprefather of the Unions, the friend of Earl Grey, and the hension and punishment. What befell me in the auld instrument in the band of providence that is to effect

castle after this bluidy mischanter, will afford matter a regeneration in our system of Parliamentary repre

for my next chapter. sentation.”

“ PUT THE PIPES IN THE POCK." Scarcely were these words said, when there got up a wonderful rampaugin, huzzaing and confusion. The “ He keng muckle wha kens when to speak, but far mair wha kens whan tæe

haud his tongue.” chap that nearly foundered me was kicked out of the

HENDERSON'S PROVERBS. room, and a cry got up for a speech from Mr. Attwood, and here again my Deils' buckie got in a word One beautiful morning, in the early

part of summer, to the effeck, that, considering the manner in which

while proceeding on foot from Falkirk to StirMr. Attwood had been insulted, he would not con

ling, the writer chanced, at a turning of the road, to sent that Mr. A. fatigued with his long journey, and

come upon a man busily engaged in forcing a pair of irritated in his feelings by those whom he regarded

bagpipes into the mouth of a sack. Conceiving the as his own children should do any such thing, but he circumstance rather odd, I stopped to enquire the reawould beg of him to address them publickly next day

son for his thus wishing to conceal from view the inon the Barwood.

strument of his calling. The man raised his head, Here deafening cheers got up-and a still louder and, with that sly, sarcastic tone, peculiar to the Scotcry that Mr. Attwood should be chaired home. With tish peasantry, when questioned on subjects which can that, before I knew where I was, I found myself stuck only be of importance to themselves, thus replied to into an arm chair. The arm chair was placed upon a my query :-"Since you're at the trouble o' speerin', hand barrow, and its spokes elevated upon the shoulders nae doubt it's but right you should ken. The pipes of four stout fellows, and in this guise was I parauded dinna belang tae me, but tae a neiber o' mine wha gat like a show after nightfall through the hail toun, with a himsel fu' at Doun fair and left them in the house band of women and weans and men rampaging about me whar he had been playing. Now, am just takin them like wild cats or hyænas of the wilderness. For a while hame to him, and I was thinking tae mysel, as I ken I was in a state of perfect bewilderment, and was not naething about music, if I were to carry them openly, sure whether the savages meant to bead, hang or burn I wad only be exposing myself, for the folks that dinme, but at length when I gradually came to my senses na ken me wad be asking me to play, and they wad I could distinguish the sounds of a base drum, a wee tak’it amiss if I didna play, while the folks that ken drum and twa cracked Autes or fifes bumming and me wad be thinking I was wishing tae get the credit skirling before me, and twa cotton shawls stuck upon of being able to do what I ken naetbing about, sae I rake shafts, with some devices painted on them with think the safest way is just to put the pipes in the red ochre and lamp black, flapping at ilka side. Sic pock.” I thanked the good man for thus satisfying a bizz I am sure was never beard in the village in a my curiosity and passed on. moonlight night, and the cries of Attwood for ever, I have frequently since, in the course of my periand the sovereignity of the people were clean dumb- grinations through life had occasion to remark, that, if foundering I was sure some judgment was to light conduct similar to that of my friend with the pipes

, on me for my inn ent pairt in this wicked affair, were in more general practice, we would have fewer and sure eneuch my apprehensions were fully realized. men exposing themselves or imposing upon others

. Just as we were in the middle of our parade, it came For instance, when Cicero Snivelarius presents his to pass, that some horned nout, great big Angus. awkward and ungainly figure in the Trades' Hall, and shire stots, unfortunately met us full in the teeth, be- endeavours to enlighten the audience on the state of ing on their way to the South to some cattle tryst, the nation in a strain of oratory, which, though heard and the brute beasts, half in fricht and half in des- from one end of the room to the other, yet, from cer. peration, charged us right in front. Ane carried the tain nasal variations in his tones, defies the powers base drum off on its horns, and dang the bow-leggit of the most dexterous and intelligent reporter to drummer ower a feal dike. My body guard, with the commit to paper, I have invariably thought he had twa flags, roared lustily,

roared lustily, “stand fast in the cause of mistaken the bent of his genius and that it would be freedom-they're no bills, only stots,” but at that mo- much better for him when he feels the cacoæthes lo

quendi coming on to follow the example we have men- what may still be intelligible—I have thought that the tioned, and just put the pipes in the pock.

learned Theban would have shewn a much greater dea I have also met with people who display a longing gree of wisdom, if, in place of attempting to bolster up after distinction, though in a different way from that the credit of himself and his brethren, by such ill. which forms the ruling passion of our friend Cicero. timed pretensions, he had just followed the example Their great ambition is, to be considered people of of our friend with the pipes. family, and, presuming on the quality of their broad

The same reflections, though of a more painful nacloth, the extent of their cash account, and, above all, ture, have occurred on seeing certain of our Reverend the short memories of their early but less fortunate and enlightened instructors, forgetful of those heavenly acquaintances, attempt to push themselves forward as precepts, which they are in the habit of inculcating, the magnates of society whose countenance is to be leaving the peaceful round of their duties, and entering considered as a passport to genteel life. These people the arena of popular discussion, where, owing to their are particularly partial to antiquated china, and re- ignorance of the formalities of public meetings, they liques of the olden time, not because they are embued have placed then selves in positions where they have with the spirit of old Monkbarns, but that they may been laughed out of that equanimity of temper* which have it in their power to shew off the nick.nacks as they so earnestly enjoin. We have unconsciously heir-looms, or as what once adorned the “old fashioned heaved the sigh of regret as we thought, how much cupboard of my great-grandmother.” Now only think more respectable they would have appeared had they what a feather it is in the cap of a Glasgow man to just “put the pipes in the pock," and attended to their have had a GREAT-GRANDMOTHER who could afford sacred avocations. such fine old china !! The novus homo, to whom it is If I may be allowed, after alluding to such venerable shewn, is lost in respectful admiration of the antiquity characters, to hint at one grievous, and, I fear, irreof the family; but, by-and-bye, he gets a little insight claimable sinner, against propriety and good taste-I into matters and finds no great difficulty in supplying mean the all-sufficient personage who regulates the bishimself with a great-grandmother, and a stock of as trionic amusements of our city. The absurdities of this antiquated china as bis neighbours. This is all very would-be factotum has already drawn upon hin the well and harmless enough in itself, but, as old acquaint- critical attention of a considerable portion of the press; ances tend to spoil the sport, I would advise all such yet the mind of our manager seems like Hodge's beard, magnates either to cut old cronies a (thing, by-the-bye, to be “made of opposition stuff," and scorns to yield they are ready enough to do) or when they feel an in- either to the censure or the advice of his friends. clination to prose about great-grand-mama and her old -Like manager Strut, he conceives himself a fixed china in their presence, either to tip them the wink con- star in his own theatrical hemisphere, round which fidential, or put the pipes in the pock till a more favour- all wandering stars may revolve if they please, but able opportunity.

there must be no exclusive brilliancy on their part. When I happen to hear of a reverend incumbent, If they shine, he must shine along with them—the apwho has got a call to a more lucrative charge, endea- plause as well as the profits must be shared. This pes vouring in his farewell sermon to arouse the sympa- culiarity in his system of management was most strikthies of his simple-minded flock, by describing the ingly illustrated a few evenings ago, when he came unbounded attachment he entertains for them, the dis- forward to put his queer-looking mug in trim for actress which he suffers in contemplating the approach- | companying Mr. Sapio in the duet of “ All's Well.” ing separation, and even giving way to his feelings so far Displeased at the reception he met with, he came as to call forth tears of regret from the eyes of bimself on again, a-la-Strut, and informed the audience that and every one present, I have thought, while reflect- he had sung along with Braham and Sinclair. Now, ing that a sacrifice of a few pounds on the part of his really, I think our manager must have been humming, Reverence would have averted this awful calamity when he said he was singing in such company. Howfrom himself and his people, that, in place of becoming ever, be that as it may, I would advise him in future, lachrymose on the subject, he would have acted with when his ears are assailed by a hurricane of hisses from greater propriety if he had said nothing about it, but all parts of the house, just to put the pipes in the pock, just put the pipes in the pock, and retired, in silence, to and slip off to the adjacent, with as little noise and as enjoy the advantages of his call. Or when I have heard much expedition as possible. some one of the learned professors of our university, In short, there are many situations, both in public in returning thanks for the honours done him at a and private life, in which the example of our unsophispublic dinner, extolling the seminary to which he be- ticated friend might be followed with advantage. longed as the fountain of learning, the storehouse of You can mingle in few companies where you will wisdom, the conservative depository of unpublished

not find occasion to remark that some individual or lore, the patron of science and the hot-bed of genius; other, when putting forth his pretensions, would be and, thougb I might have been almost inclined to yield much benefitted by attending to the lesson. Least, assent to the eloquence with which these high sound- however, my readers may conceive that I am encroaching pretensions were urged, yet when the ruins of an ing too much on their time, and that I stand myself observatory, dedicated to the study of the heavenly in want of the advice which I am thus bestowing bodies, but now neglected by our present faculty of

upon others, I will, with their leave, put the pipes in earthly bodies, passed in review, followed by the im- the pock till some other occasion. mense piles of books (the compulsatory donations of authors) rotting in sheets, which our parsimonious

For a man to lose his temper is by some considered a misfor

tune, but really there are temper: so very bad, that the sooner they guardians of literature will not deign even to put in

are lost the better for the individual. There was a temper of this boards—not to mention the disgraceful roll of bur

kind went amissing on a recent occasion, which we would not ad. saries stripped of their funds to augment the sala- vise the owner to be at the expense of advertising for. ries of men, wbo, according to their pretensions, ought to have been the nursing fathers of such patriot

LITERARY CRITICISM, ic endowments—the manuscripts, also, of their great but ill-requited patron, Zachary Boyd, mouldering to Scottish PROVERBS, Collected and Aranged by Andrew HENdust* without a single effort being made to preserve

Derson, with an Introductory Essay by W. Motherwell, (unpublished. ) – Edinburgh, 1832.

The compiler and collector of this volume of Scottish • Perhaps it may be information to some of our readers to

Proverbs has long been known to the inbabitants of this know, that two volumes of the MSS. of Z. Boyd, in the keeping of the University, are now past recovery. How many poor stu

city as a respectable artist, and as a gentleman deeply dents, for a trifling consideration, would have gladly engaged in

embued with the philosophy of proverbs. Many indivi. the renewal of the Work ?

duals have previously laboured in this wide field of tra

as to give credence to his master's wildest fancies, in as much as they seemed to chime in with bis own hopes and wishes. On all occasions the Don ever expresses himself like a scholar and a gentleman, Sancho like one of the vulgar herd. The knight uses his own words to express his own ideas; but the vocabulary of the squire is the inexhaustible proverbs of his country. Before quitting this subject, we may refer to the admirable rules laid down by the knight for Sancho's guidance in the use of proverbs, before assuming the government of Barateria, as of general application. They relieve us from dogmatising upon that point, and they agree with the rules laid down by Aristotle in his Rhetoric with regard to epithets, namely, that in discourse they ought to be used as mere condiments, not as food.

Our limits forbid us entering at greater length into any of the other valuable topics which are discussed in the preliminary essay by Mr. Motherwell. Suffice it to say, that it will be found a most valuable contribution to the literary history of Scotland.

Mr. Henderson, besides exhibiting much industry and ingenuity in the collection of Proverbs now before us, has enriched his work with some most characteris. tic etchings. The volume is beautifully printed, and well got up, and is, upon the whole, one that is highly creditable to all connected with its publication. We wish it every success, convinced as we are that it is the best collection of Scottish Proverbs that has ever been offered to the public, and one which ought to be in the library of every literateur and every Scotchman.

LONDON FASHIONS FOR MAY.

dition, and have caught and given permanence, by a few drops of ink, to the odd, curious and instructive Scottish proverbial expressions of the past, but it is only justice to say, that Mr. Andrew Henderson has outstripped them all, and now gives to bis countrymen, not only the best and fullest collection of our national proverbs, but that in a form at once valuable to the man of letters and the man of the world.

The introductory essay, by Mr. Motherwell, is replete with the Bibliographical lore for wbich that gentleman is so justly celebrated. In this learned treatise, he has not only shown us what has been done by all the previous Scottish collectors, for the purpose of rescuing the proverbial “ wisdom of our ancestors" from oblivion, but likewise what has been accomplished by Greek, Roman and English Antiquarians. As a Bibliographical Essay it is equal to anything that we have seen from the pens of either D'Isreali or Dibdin. Mr. Motherwell, after discussing the bibliographical history, enters at some length into the philosophy of proverbs, and proves satisfactorily, that " in relation to changes in the manners of a people, their customs, and various minute incidents connected either with places or persons,” these quaint sentences, or picturesque aphorisms, like traditionary lyrics, frequently preserve particulars which contemporary history has failed to record. We agree also with the ingenious writer of the treatise, that the “ domestic habits of a people are best known by their proverbs," and it is perhaps a matter of regret to perceive, that from the number which Mr. Henderson has arrayed under the head of “ Dirt,” there exists no fewer than fifteen say. ings, one half of which at least, have been contrived to excuse filthiness! Mr. Motherwell next enters upon the antiquity of proverbs, and in treating the subject makes the following judicious observations:

Ere letters were invented, wisdom was abroad in the world. Proverbs are the germs of moral and political science, and they not unfrequeutly constituted the compendious vehicles for the transmission of the dogmas of religion, and the first principles of philosophy, of arts and sciences. In this shape, oral tradition preserved among primitive ages the knowledge of times still more remote; and, what marble, and brass, and other devices of human invention have allowed to perish, proverbs, tloating upon the living voice, have perpetuated. It would form no incurious speculation to analyse the various ingenious aids resorted to in the construction of these short sentences, to give them currency, and furnish aids to the memory. Brevity is a distinguishing characteristic of them all. Weight of sentiment, and justness of metaphor, ought to be another, to justify the eulogy of Tillotson, where

the little and short sayings of wise and excellent men are of great value, like the dust of gold, or the least sparks of diamonds."

Antithetical point recommends one class; alliteration, or consonance of letters, another. Some excite attention by a witty and unexpected combination of ideas, and others, by a caustic or sly humour; while not a few, and these, perhaps, not the least numerous, nor least ancient, can be no otherwise described than as an old writer expresses it-

Rymes, running in a rattling row; which class, we are inclined to affiliate upon our Scandinavian an

To rime a rat to death, is an English proverh, and, with Sir William Temple, we concur in thinking it a vestige of Scandic superstition, referring to the magical powers ascribed to the Gothic

he says,

Hats AND BONNETS.--Moire, crape, rice straw, and pagne are the materials in favour for hats and bonnets. Both have the brims reduced almost to the smallest possible dimensions. Bonnets are still of the capote form, several of those composed of moire are lined with crape, and ornamented with a sprig of lilac placed on one side.

Those of lilac moire lined with white crape, and ornamented with a sprig of white lilac are very pretty. Snow balls of a small size are also employed for trimming bonnets. The most elegant of the crape capotes are those of rose or straw colour, trimmed on one side with a knot of white gauze ribbon, edged with blond lace; the ends of the knot fall low upon the brim. Morning bonnets are generally worn over a cap, trimmed with a blond niche, much narrower than those worn in the winter. The most part of the half dress bonnets have the brides dressed with blond lace.

Hats composed of pagne are always either grey, or the new colour called ecru, they are lined with cherry colour, and rose of different shades, and are trimmed with gauze ribbon to correspond. A single flower of the colour of the ribbon, is inserted in a knot on one side, and drops from it upon the brim. Several new straw hats are of the capote form, the brims are short, and sit close to the ears. The basolet is of ribbond to correspond with the trimm. ing. The brim is lined with coloured crapes, cherry is frequently employed. Gauze ribbons are frequently figured in colours,

NEW MATERIALS.—Gros de Naples of different kinds, and gros d'éte are the materials in request for pelisses; they are also in favour for morning dresses. Chaly is fashionable in morning, dinner, and evening dress; there is a perfect rage for that material. Plain chaly particularly lilac and écrue are extremely pretty for negligé. Those that are flowered have the grounds either green, straw-colour, marsh mallows, or different shades of very light brown. The colours of the bouquets are extremely vivid, and very varied.

There are also chalys with broad stripes, one white, the other coloured, both shaded with small and delicate patterns. The new undress muslins are of white grounds, with small woodcoloured patterns, or brown or black grounds strewed with bouquets of roses or other flowers in vivid colours. We see also some covered with branches of foliage, intermingled.

Our-Door Costume.- Pelisses are very much in favour, they are closed in front, and ornamented on each side with rouleaus in a very light and simple style. A good many are worn with pelerines of the same material; they are of a large size and with square ends.

There is no alteration either in the shape or size of sleeves. Several high dresses are made with the corsages ex guimpes, those that are of striped patterns have the material placed in such a manner as to form chevrons on the bust before and behind. Several of the new scarfs are of mousseline de luine, with very well covered patterns, upon amaranth, brown, or green grounds. The most elegent carriage scarfs are of white mousseline de laine, embroidered in coloured silk.

Morning Dress.— Gros de Naples, cachemiriene, and chey are the materials most in favour at this moment, but the printed niuslins above cited will probably be worn before the end of the month. Morning dresses are invariably made high, some are partially open, and draped across the bust, others plain. Almost all have have a pelerine of the same material. Some few are round, but the greater number have long ends that cross before under the ceinture; they descend very low upon the shoulder, and there form three or four points, which form a finish to the sleeve. Dresses of light materials have a double pelerine, and a square collar which

cestor's.

runes.

Proverbs are, to the vulgar, not merely a sort of metaphysical language, but a kind of substitute for philosophical principles. A man whose mind has been enlarged by education, and who has a complete mastery over the riches of his native language, expresses his ideas in his own words; and when he refers to any thing beyond the matter under his view, glances towards an abstract principle. A vulgar man, on the other band, uses those proverbial forms which tradition and daily use have made familiar to him ; and when he makes a remark which needs confirmation, he clenches it by a proverb. Thus both, though in a different way, illustrate the observation of Lord Bacon, that--" The nature of man doth extremelye covet to have something fixed and immoveable, and as a Rest and support of the mind.”

Cervantes, in painting the characters of Don Quixote and his sapient squire, the inimitable Sancho, has excellently well brought out the distinction to which we refer. The Don is a gentleman of education-a man of fine fancy and feeling, whose mind has been embued, not less with classical ideas than romantic notions, and who, on all subjects except that on which his madness turns, is the most refined, the most disinterested, generous, and rational of human beings. Sancho, on the other hand, is a personification of the vulgar mind : low, selfish, and cunning, and also so far mad

falls over, and makes a third row: it is in this manner that the few printed muslins that have already appeared are made.

Half-Dress.-Chaly of the new patterns, and Gros de Naples à lignes are most fashionable. The redingote form, very open in the bosom, is preferred; the dress must also be partially open in front, in order to show a richly embroidered muslin petticoat. The fichu should be of clear cambric, small plaited, with a falling collar, trimmed with Valenciennes lace. The under dress should have the sleeves finished with narrow ruffles, also edged with narrow lace, they fall over the hand.

HEAD-DRESSES in Half-Dress.--Hats of the chapeau bibi form are very much in favour, they are of moire, or crape, and are trimmed with blond lace, gauze ribbons and flowers.

The most fashionable of the latter are the mimosa, the flowers of the alve, and parias; the latter are most in request. Turbans are also in favour; they are frequently worn without any ornament. Caps of embroidered tulle, trim med with gauze ribbons, arranged in a very novel manner, are also very fashionable.

MAKE AND MATERIALS OF EVENING DRESS.-Moire continues, and is likely to continue fashionable during the summer, particularly that which has coloured lines upon a white ground; they are of a middling breadth, lilac and white, green and white, wood colour and white, and Mousseline Sylphidi, with moire patterns, is a light and very elegant material, which promises to become very fashionable. Evening dresses are ornamented with ribbons and flowers, which are more frequently disposed upon the front of the dress than round the border; we still, however, see some ornamented in the latter style. There is great variety in corsages, some are plain, others are in crossed drapery, and a good many arranged á la Sevigné, but all are cut low. Sleeves have not altered in their form or size, but are worn something longer.

COIFFURES IN Evening Dress.—Head-dresses of hair are most fashionable. The hair is parted, or disposed in bends upon the forehead, that is to say, either in soft braids or platted bands. If curls are worn they must be much lighter than those worn last year. Ribbons and flowers are the ornaments generally employed. Fashionable colours are écrue, wood colour, green, dust colour, various shades of grey, brown, rose, and some fancy colours.

conveyed. In him is perceived the honest and upright man driven to despair, by sudden and unaccountable misfortunes, and by the vile insinuations of a villain as to his wife's inconstancy. At the same time there was none of that rant, or loud vociferation, which too often is considered by actors to be requisite for bringing out the force and meaning of the author, but that calm, subdued, and fearful determination which in such situations are so appalling.

We cannot avoid noticing the part which Mr. Wallace suistained so very creditably : we can perceive seeds of genius in this young man, that if properly nurtured may yet yield him a goodly harvest. The Bullfrog of Lloyd is the best thing we have ever seen him in ; indeed we do not think there is a man on the stage could do it more justice.

Mr. Williams, a native of our own city we believe, is also a clever performer-a man, we think, of decided genius. Every thing we have seen him in evinces this. His Symon is a perfect picture of the Scottish peasantry of the olden time. His Old Dozy, his Mark Chase and Sir Peter Teazle, are the productions of a superior actor. We are astonished we have not seen and heard more of this gentleman before this time.

HOGG'S FIRST INTERVIEW WITH GALT.

“ I first met with this most original and most careless writer at Greenock, in the summer of 1804, as I and two friends were setting out on a tour through the Hebrides ; so that Galt and I have been acquainted these twenty-eight years.

“ That was a memorable evening for me, for it was the first time I ever knew that my name had been known beyond the precincts of my native wilds, and was not a little surprised at finding it 80 well known in a place called Greenock, at the distance of one hundred miles. I had by some chance heard the name of the town, and bad formed an idea of its being a mouldy-looking village, on an ugly coast. How agreeably was I deceived, not only in the appearance of the town, but the metal which it contained.

“ My two friends and I, purposing to remain there only a night, had no sooner arrived, than word bad flown it seems through the town that a strange poetical chap bad arrired there, and a deputation was sent to us, inviting us to a sapper at the Tontine Hotel. Of course we accepted ; and, on going there, found no fewer than thirty gentlemen assembled to welcome us, and

among the rest was Mr. Galt, then a tall thin young man, with something a little dandyish in his appearance. He was dressed in a frock-coat and new top-boots; and it being then the fashion to wear the shirt collars as bigh as the eges, Galt wore his the whole of that night with the one side considerably above bis ear, and the other flapped over the collar of his frock-coat, down to his shoulder. He had another peculiarity, which appeared to me a singular instance of perversity. He walked with his spectacles on, and conversed with them on ; but when he read he took them off. In short, from his first appearance, one would scarcely have guessed him to be a man of genius."

THE PLAY-GOER.

es.

ORIGINAL POETRY,

The performances of the present week have been marked by a constellation of talents seldom witnessed in a provincial Theatre. Miss Jarman and Mr. Ternan of Edinburgh, Mr. Williams of the Haymarket and Weekes, have all lent their power to please, and contributed to enliven the scene. Of Miss Jarman we need not speak particularly. Her powers and reputation are too well known to require any encomium of ours. Her Rachel, in “ The Rent Day,” is another gem in her range of characters, and will transmit her name to posterity as one of our most feeling actress

It is the most splendid piece of acting we have ever met with ; indeed it is too much both for the audience and herself; for we observed, that she entered so completely into the interest of the piece, that she was almost convulsed in the mimicagony of the scene. Miss J. besides being the present elegant lady of the stage, is the most popular representative we have of fashionable comedy. Of Weekes need we speak particularly ? His talent as a vocalist, and his successful personation of broad Irish comicality are, as they ought to be, highly appreciated.

Mr. Ternan is a young performer of very considerable talent. He knows his profession and understands, perfectly, what its requisites are. He also understands his author, and delivers his language according to its meaning, apart alike from the stiffness of a formal elocution, or the monotony of an unmusical ear and unmodulated voice. He is a sensible actor-forms a correct estimate of his character is not destitute of power-and, possessing the ambition to excel, is likely to rise rapidly in his profession.

He opened in Shylock, which we, by no means, think his best effort. It wanted the years, and, with them, the features and malevolence of the Jew. It partook too much of ordinary life, was not sufficiently unique, and might, if separated from the dialogue and gabardine, have stood for Iago, Macbeth, or any of the same villainous genus. We have always viewed Shylock as a character particularly individual—surpassing every other in sordidness. Whether this arises from the peculiar acting of Kean in that character, we know not, but of this we are certain, that his is the only representation we have been accustomed to think natural. Ternan is no servile copyist; but we could discover not a few points which he seemed to have borrowed from the great prototype of the inhabitant of the Venetian Ghetto. Ternan's Martin Heywood is a much greater performand

ance-SO is his Joseph Surface. In these he exhibits a more correct estimate of the character, some genuine feeling and a subdued taste. He does not, as some, exhaust his energies by an extravagance of effect, labouring to effect what cannot be effected, or to make something where nothing can be made-but, which is more natural, he singles out the principal features of his character, grapples with these, and holds them up prominently to his audience as the points which are to form the character.

His performance of Martin was, in fact, truly fearful. As we have seen it played before by Mr. Alexander, it conveyed too much the idea that the wretched Heywood was a passionate, vindictive and revengeful man; but with Mr. Ternan there is no such idea

LOVE'S FIRST QUARREL “ Whar shall I get another love,

Since Johnny's ta’en the gee?
Whar shall I get another love,

Tae speak kind words tae me?
Tae row me in his cosie plaid,

When wintry winds blaw snell;
Whar shall I get another love?

Waes me! I canna tell.
Yestreen I quarreld wi' my love,

'Cause he behav'd unmeet,
And rubb'd my cheek wi' his hard chin

Till I was like tae greet.
I fate upon him lang and sair,

At last he took the huff-
I tell't him ne'er tae see my face,

If he kept his baird sae rough.
But a' nicht lang I lay and sicht,

Wi' the warm tear in my ee,
An' I wish'd I had my Johnny back,

Though his baird were tae his knee.
It's harsh tae use a maiden thus,

For her simplicitie,
Wha scarce can tell what loving means,

Or kens what man should be.”
The youth ahint the hallan stood,

And snirtled in his sleeve;
It's cordial to a love-sick heart

Tae hear its true love grieve.
He slipp'd ahint her--eer she wist

He baith her een did steek ;
“ Now guess an' tell whose weel-shaved chin

Is press'd upon your cheek ?”
Her lips sae rich wi' hinny dew,

Smiled sae forgiving-like,
That Johnny crook'd his thievish mou,

To herrie the sweet byke.

« PreviousContinue »