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sional reviewers would be reckoned as having involved an extraordinary degree of attention to the subject matter of our remarks. But the straw berries and cream, we suppose, which we got at breakfast, must have put the entire business out of our head; for from that day until this present moment we have never thought in any shape of poor Bulwer; and how he came at this writing into our head, is what we really cannot account for. Such then is the whole secret of our reading Pelham." We are told that other works from the same "able pen," have issued from the press-nay, we have been assured that in one of them, "Paul Clifford," if we are not mistaken, the illustrious author waxeth right merry, and indulges in several jokes and other witty sayings, not laid down in Joe Miller, at least in the common editions; and, moreover, even at times the dog gets satirical and Junius-like, observing, in spite of the solicitations, privately we understand, addressed to him by the friends of the parties, no measures at all with the objects of his fury, but shivering them into atoms at the very first blow. His last attack on poor Lord Eldon, is considered to have made sad work with the feelings of that ill-starred peer. Still further, a friend of ours, on whose veracity we can implicitly rely, and who is, moreover, a wonderful searcher after publications that no one else sees-tells us that in a periodical called the New Monthly Magazine, of which Lytton is Editor-being so made as the whole world, except himself, knows, solely that Colburn, the proprietor may avail himself of Lytton's parliamentary privilege, (for Lytton is a statesman. Oh! tempora, Oh! mores), in his extensive bibliopolical correspondence--he has lashed Lockhart, of the Quarterly how we pity Lockhart!-in terms which if he survives, our informant consents to be ever after called a roach. But, peace to poor Lytton! He has been

to us the source of much amusement, and we beg of him, by these presents, as the Minister of one Power says, when concluding his official note to another, to accept the assurance of our high considerations.

We are now about to enter on a subject of a far different kind, referring, as it does, to a measure which we foresee will prove to us a source at once of trouble and glory. Without further preface then, it is our solemn purpose to assume the character of a host and be at home to a brilliant and numerous assembly, whom we expect to honuor us with their presence at a grand College Breakfast in our chambers, on no other day in the year than " July the First, in the morning clear," It was our original intention to have kept the whole affair as secret as possible, because there is such a competition for invitations to all College Breakfasts and a fortiori to ours, that we should have felt ourselves rather awkwardly situat ed in respect to many families, who if our purposes were to get abroad, would think themselves entitled to cards, when the truth is, we could have spared their presence excellently well. But we happened to mention it by way of conversation, on a visit we paid the other day to a family in never thinking what might be the result of our imprudence; but, whew! we had as lief proclaimed it at the Market Cross. The system of applications for cards since kept up-but let us speak first of the Breakfast itself, and the circumstances under which the idea of it originated.

street,*

Our readers are aware, and that portion of them which, out of an appre hension which they will kindly pardon us in calling most silly, of our instability, subscribed merely for six months, ought doubly to be aware, (so that they may continue, oh good news for them,) their subscriptions, (let them say at once, for ever,) that with our July number we enter upon our second half

year. This important era Jure Solenni" we were anxious to celebrate in a most fitting manner, but sometimes were at a loss how to act. At last the idea of a College Breakfast to be given to the most distinguished literary characters in the United Kingdom, along with a party of ladies and gentlemen, distinguished for nothing that we know, except their acquaintance with ourselves, struck us as the most eligible mode of marking the festal na ture of the day. We were not personally known to the majority of the writers residing in England, and, therefore, hesitated for a moment in addressing notes of invitation. However we reflected that they were all good Tories and sensible men a sensible Whig is now admitted to be a contradiction in terms-and would at least send us a polite refusal. We, therefore, took heart of grace, dispatched a whole packet of letters to England and Scotland by the same post; and already have received the most favorable and flatter ing answers from the great majority of those who received our invitations. We have before us, at this moment, letters from Wordsworth, Coleridge Hogg, Hallam, Lockhart, Carleton, Southey, &c., all expressing their determination to attend at our rooms on the First of July and anticipating a great deal of pleasure from witnessing in person, the ongoings of a University, respecting which they have heard so much. We have already engaged for them all the beds in Bilton's, and if matters continue in the same strain as they are doing at present, we must have recourse to Gresham's. The terms in which the several writers have expressed their acceptance of our invitations, are, in general, very characteristic; and we are sure that they will join with us in thinking, that no breach of confidence will be committed by our laying them, from time to time, before the public, In our present number we can only afford room for two-the first of which from a well-known literary and excellent individual in Scotland and couched in the simple but sweet Doric of his own land.

o' seein' you atween the een at ony time or season o' this my mortal life. But the fack is, that you Eerishers hae siccan a way wi' you, and hae the power o' puttin into a' you write, sae muckle o' heart, that the face o' ane o' you (and winsome, I weel wot, yours maun be, sae that a' body fa's in luve wi' it at ance as they say o' a fiddle) becomes, in the clappin' o'ane's loof, frae the scarts on the paper as weel kenned as o' the very auldest o' my acquentances wi' whom I had jeest parted as I cam ben the hoose and to forgather wi' whom it had been my lot on ilka day and at a' times and seasons---at kirk or market—sabbath or week-day-in hours o' rejoicin and I trust they found me thankfu—as weel at hours o' mournin'-oot o' which I stap na to say the spirit as it mourned cam' a' the better during the haill course and flow o' a changefu' existence flushed as it has been, as I hae said, noo and again wi' the best and brichtest and finest lichts o' happiness that ever was sent frae Him oot o' the hollow o whose hand thae waters cam at first, although there hae been far ither seasons when I cud hae thocht that the face o' the very Heavens had cum doon upon its surface in blackness and storm; but let that pass-an auld acquaintance whose freenship had begun in our early bairn time-thae dear and, Lord help us! noo far aff days, when we used in the simmer time to be biggin' our wee dams in the burn to turn our bits o' water wheels made oot o' rashes. You may guess then hoo pleased was I to read your kin' and franksom letter which the lass brocht in on the same tray wi' the het water, and bearin' the Peebles post mark. I had been oot frae sunbreak, you see, on St. Mary's Loch, an' had a geyan busy day, as I had sent hame by Jamie Steenson's cart wha happened to be passin', a creel fu' and mair o' the grandest perch you ever set your twa een on, forby twa three troots that wee Jamie-the first o' my olive plants, Sir-wud carry hame in his ain han to mak' a feast like for himseel and his brithers and sisters. The bit wean cam roarin' after me as I was gaun oot in the mornin, and the mither o' him jeest threeped on me that I sud tak him, an sae you ken thae women maun hae their way. I cam in then unco wearied aboot the time that they ca' the kye hame, weel on in the gloamin--by the same token

I met the laird of Glenland's twa lasses hech Sirs! and bonny lasses they are, jeest cumin oot at the slap, an' we had, you may weel suppose, our ain joke in passin'. In I cam and doon the room the gude wife wud hae me to a cosey peat fire, whase blink was unco pleasant and heartsome in the dewfall," an' Jamie," quo she, "you maun ee'n tak a drap o' somethin het and strang, (passin wi' the word to the cupboard, and bringin' thereoot an auld fashioned black bottle,) an' get yoursel weel rested the nicht, for the morn is the Sabbath, an' it wud na be that seemly for you to fa' asleep in the kirk time, you that is noo so weel kenned as a man o' readin' and discretion, jeest like Laird Menzies in the front laft, wha is aye sure to shut his een at the geein' oot o' the text an' be clean snorin' lang afore the Meenister's firstly-in troth he has na mair shame than the bit colley doug at his feet,-that has na he--that rowed up like a tether an' dreamin' its like, o' ruggin at cows tails, comes oot ever and anon, a wi' bit snufflin' bouch-bouch, sae that the younger pairt o' the congregation are fain to stap their psalm-books into their mouths to keep them frae lauchin' richt oot." Weel, Sir, I brak up your letter and read it owre an' owre again; but, man, it is an unco queer sort o' requist you mak, altho' I ken weel it was richt weel intended. It's a lang lang cry frae Dublin to my present sittin', an' deed I doot the wife and bairns wud set up their throats again it clean a' thegither, for they wud hae it to be naethin' else than a temptin' o' Providence, that I sud turn my face to siccan a howlin' lan' o' blude thirsty Papishers--but as for that matter if I am to gae, I'm thinkin there's twa three gude oak saplins that I hae had my een on in the forest and that I daunder doon to visit atween the forenoon and afternoon sermons, wi ane o' which under my airm, I hae a wee suspicion I cud mak oot my way through them a' unco weel. I sud like abune a' things to come- -I'se no deny it for I hae heard tell o' some queer things anent your College, an' wud hae a thoosan questions to ask aboot what I culdna mak oot frae the Almanack ava aboot your Examinations and your Terms, and your Professors and Provost, and Fellows, an whether that Provost be an officer o' the like kind wi him that they ca' sae in oor

Royal Burghs, in which case I conclude the Fellows maun jeest be the Bailies; and what sort o' fun you College younker's keep up, an' whether, when they are na at their books, they would try to face me in the College yards at foot-ba', han-ba', pittin' the stane, leap-frog, an what not? The mair I think of it, the mair fidgetty I get aboot gaiun'. 'Deed then I dinna see what's to hinner me-sae I'll jeest say the word an you may expec' me at your breakfast. An indeed noo that I'm thinkin' o' it, I'll jeest sen' up the lass to Lord Napier's hoose ayont wi my compliments and see if he cood len me a handy basket an' I'll jeest sling it owre my shouther fu' o' the best Tweed troots, and siccan troot l'se jealouse, when you hae gotten them weel brandered on your College tangs, it will be a bonny thing for your lang sided College boys to fill up the far lan wi, afore they yoke to the bashins of tea and coffee-troot, Sir, that--I hae often thocht, for a single bite o' which a man in thae weak moments when the animal nature presses down the rational, wud think himself justified in departin frae the best and purest principles o' his life, an' shud a haill fish be pre sented to his acceptance alang wi the abominations o' whiggery, och Sirs, muckle cause wud he hae to pray again temptation! An' noo suppose I am to come, wud you think there is ony chance o' your College makin' o' me a Doctor o' Laws, as they did Sir Walter-an' a prood thing, let me tell you that-it was for him--and the mair shame that sae noble an example was na ta'en up by those grand places at Oxford and Cambridge--an shud siccan a thing happen, wud I be obligated to mak my thanks in the Latin or Greek-a thing I doot that would na be very easy. But nae matter l'se write aff to Mr. De Quincey, the opium eater, in Edinbro' an' I'se gar him write me in text hand something or ither, an' I can get it aff weel eneuch by heart on the tap o' the coach, as I'm comin, sae as that there be noe lang-nebbit words, and if I shud stick in the delivery, I'se no moan them, if I feenish it aff wi a screed o' ane o' my ain sangs-Donald M'Donald, for aught I ken. Now aboot the breakfast, what time does it begin, an' how lang will be the sederunt an will ye hae ony bonny lasses at it?

I shud like to see sum o' your Eerish beauties. An' weel ye sit talkin' awa the haill day-and that puts me in min' o' a great mistake about sitten that occurred no lang syne-I was readin' oot o' an auld newspaper a debate in the Hoose o' Lords, anent a charge that the Marquis o' Londonderry had made again the Lord Chancellor for been' absent frae his post, when the auld Peg Hetly cam in to draw his pipe, an' was sitten aside the fire when I read oot his Lordship's reply: in which he assured Noble Lords, that he had, for the last week been sittin in Chancery for aughteen hoors a day." Aughteen hoors! quo Peg-weel, that croon's a'!-aughteen hoors a day! why what'n a gran' clocker that Chancellor burd maun be! There's my black hen that was the brag o' the parish for mindin' her eggs, and the maist she cood stay on at a time, was twal hoors. But my certy thae foreign birds are no' to be beaten-noo this for a blether o' an auld wife na nae sae bad an observe ava'. But the gude wife wants me to tye up the coo in the byre an' I maun finish off a sang for Frazer afore I sleep, and sae maun sign myself your best freend and wellwisher, JAMES HOGG.

Anthony Poplar, Esq.

May 25th, Mount Benger.

Did we not say, some time ago, that we were actually teazed to death with solicitations from all sorts of people, Ladies and Gentlemen, old and young, the lovely and the loveless? And so we are. We have been asked out to parties by Ladies we never knew, in the vain hope of their being asked in turn. An elderly Gentleman with a suspicious rubicundity of nose, and who sat opposite, the other day, to us at dinner, tried to win upon our loyal feelings, by naming, as it were to himself, but loud enough for us to hear, "the Glorious Memory," as he lifted, each time, a full bumper to his lips. Now, although we have thrown our pantry into the suite of rooms, we have been obliged to limit our issue of tickets to sixty, and cannot promise chairs to more than thirty, and certainly not cups for more than twenty. A number of the company will then have to ottomanize it on the carpet and in corners, and wait until others have finished. It will be observed, that none but sound-hearted Tories are inVOL. I.

vited. In fact, as we have now weeded our acquaintance, we rejoice to think that we know not, at this moment, a single Whig, so that Whig pollution will be impossible. The last we knew, was an unfortunate young fellow, whom, a friend told us, he saw lately wandering about the Pier at Brighton, his head surmounted by a "shocking bad hat," his nether habiliments marked with porter stains, contracted at some tavern dinner in London, when standing to "the cause of Liberty, all the world over;" Sir Francis Burdett in the chair; and as to whose interior integuments beneath the closely buttoned surtout, whose "blue stage," was decidedly antideluvian, our informant felt himself justified in applying the scholastic principle of reasoning: "De rebus non apparentibus et non existentibus eadem est ratio.

Coleridge, the most eloquent of men, has also promised to "assist" at our breakfast; as Lady Morgan says, when intimating her presence at a dinner of Lafayette's, and where she received from the General's pastry-cook that exquisite compliment which, as she justly insinuates, must have struck dumb, when it was told, with confusion, her inveterate but very weak enemies The Quarterly and Blackwood,' by having among the ornaments of the table her own name formed in letters of spun sugar-think of that, Master Brook--in spun sugar--no less. Here is Coleridge's answer flowing on in his own peculiar strain of solemn eloquence; and now and again diverging into metaphysics which are not the less so, we suppose, for our not always understanding them.

SIR,

When within the breast of any given human being, his consciousness becomes warm and quick with the stirrings of a peculiar, but fine emotion of love towards a separated and selected portion of his kind; and this instinct, so sweet I should suppose to the sentient individual himself, as it is, sooth to say, in its effects to all who enjoy them, breaks out into a series of concatenated actions tending to one single and solemn purpose of givingsay, a dinner, or rather, which is your case, a breakfast-and of this series, the asking of his cook what is in the house, is assuredly the first, if his active powers, when in the state of

5 B

energizing, are at all regulated by the eternal order and necessary fitness of things; on such an occasion the small gentle courtesies of life that run like gol den threads, strengthening and adorn ing the social web alike, sweetening and dignifying the commerce of man's herded existence. I have invented this phrase of late with a hope of its re maining safe for a season from pollution as the equivalent expression of "social life," has, I see by a late Times got down into the advertisements of George Robins, the romaunting auctioneerthese courtesies, I repeat, require of him who has been bidden to the feast, an acknowledgment of the same, as well as a statement of his intentions on the subject-matter of his host's communinication. I have received your letter -have broken the seal-have perused it. You therein ply me with a congeries of differently tinted arguments, why I am bound as a convinced intelligence, to be present at your Grand College Breakfast on the First of July "in the morning clear," as you yourself add, and which seems to involve something of metrical measure, but whence borrowed I know not, as my poetical reading has been long since limited to my own productions. Now, this is matter for thought, and may bring into play, perchance, the most palpable elements of reason-the intuitive and discursive powers of the mind at once. You have urged my deserved celebrity as the cause which suggested the idea of soliciting my presence on an occasion, which will bring together some, if not all, of the master and prevailing spirits of the day; and have earnestly referred me to the searching delight the summer swell of proud emotion that must flood the deepest and most wind ing recesses of a soul like mine own, as oft as such a system of intelligences, so delicately, yet so powerfully touched, are brought by the ordering of a destiny, rare indeed, into high-I will add, solemn communion. This argument savours of an appeal to the passion for popular applause peculiar, I imagine, to the human character, and which is supposed to pervade a literary mind with an unwonted degree of intensity. But, alas! Mr. Poplar, there is grief in the word, while I say that with me the days in which such things, could shed a rich pleasure over the soul are fast passing away---but here

I warmly protest against the popular language I have adopted in this latter expression being supposed to imply on my part a belief in this entity of duration

for an entity it is I do vehemently maintain, being formed, or conflated, of successively existing parts,—but I refer you, in a spirit of prophecy, for the present, for an original and ela borately elucidated idea of its mysterious nature to be mysterious no longer, to a work of mine to be composed some time or other in three volumes, quarto, entitled, "A Short and Simple Solution of the All-agitating Question of Time, in its character of a Quiddity, in a Dialogue between S.T.C. Esq. and the Eidolon of William of Okeham, the Seraphic Doctor." But what was I saying? I was discussing or rather simply announcing a change that has passed over the whole strueture of thought and feeling--yearning as I do feel myself less and less each day that passes--and here again I am dragged on by the violence of popular language as before, and here again I firmly enter a similar protest against misinterpretation-after mine own fame, for the first low whispering of which through the wide forest of men, Iremember me to have listened with all the passionate longing of heart and soul, with which the way-worn Arab turns his ear to catch the faint and far-off sounding of the fountain, across the weary stillness of the desert--taking this decay as a token-nor all unwelcome, may I humbly hope of the onward movement of my journey, and that over the mortal spirit the dimness of the after-day is already come. Therefor I cannot avow that the conviction of the fitness of my presence at your College Breakfast, has yet come near to my understanding. The plainness with which my words are here endued may seem to many as savoring of an anti-social rudeness, and that my duty as a polished and urbane citizen, would be better discharged by pleading, in a general mode, a previous engagement. But I will require, at least I scek-no pardon, while I proclaim politeness to be but a minor virtue, ever to be borne down by the demands of the moral accomplishment of a high and uncompromising sincerity. The experience of Talleyrand in the tricky and wordy world of diplomacy, might have suggested to him, in a mood of