telling me that I would be found in the wrong. But knowing another gentleman who hated the General, I got him to deliver the challenge. But his honour refused to meet me. Yes, the dog, the craven, refused giving me satisfaction, and, what was worse, answered my note in a calm, exulting style, as I had answered his injurious remarks formerly. He told me he had done me no wrong, but rather a service, by granting my wife and child an asylum, when I had turned them out of doors; and that such a fellow was not worthy to be whipt by the hands of a gentleman--a fellow who could turn a lovely and amiable lady, with a babe at her bosom, out to the streets at midnight. lic, upon whom they prey, into a belief of their harm. lessness. We propose stirring a few of them up with the long pole of our ingenuity; and, on the old principle of place aux dames, we shall begin with a female monster : This was blow upon blow! There never was a poor wretch humbled as I was. I swore to myself to have revenge, and went and watched the villain's door early and late to assassinate him. But, aware of his danger, he always eschewed me, and soon went away to a distant part of the country to review some troops, taking my wife in the carriage with him. I followed him, and, waylaying him on his path to the field, I met him, with only one servant riding a good way behind him. I challenged him to fight me, or die on the spot. When he saw it was me, he was terrified, and put spurs to his horse; but I seized it by the reins, and fired a pistol in the villain's face, determined to blow his brains all abroad upon the high way. In the struggle I missed my aim; the ball only grazed his cheek, and took off his left ear. He then either fell or flung himself from the horse, roaring to lower the grand scale of her social operations. The ing out murder. I drew my sword in order to exterminate him, and, it seems, gave him one wound, when at that moment I was knocked down by a blow from behind by the servant's loaded whip. When I recovered, I found myself in a dungeon. I was tried, found guilty, and condemned. But I cannot tell you what I suffered. No tongue can relate the half of the contumely, disgrace, and humiliation, that I underwent Man has done his worst to me-woman has done her worst to me-the world has done its worst to me and I have done with them all! The General soon turned off Clara. He had got his revenge. He had got the victory, and he wanted no more, ruined her, and broken and disgraced me. It was long before I ventured to go and see her. At length I ventured; but she only screamed and tainted, and I was obliged to retire. We exchanged several letters; and, after some months had elapsed, was permitted to visit her, under a promise that it was to be for the last time. But what passed at that meeting I can never describe. You see, it makes me shed tears to think of it even now. I kneeled at her feet; but she would not permit me to touch her. The boy called me father, and I caressed him; but Clara kept a reserved and determined distance, saying, that no motive should ever induce her to live with me again, which she considered an injustice to me that she was incapable of. She knew long ago, she said, that I was blameless; but she had been misled by the miscreant with alleged proofs, which she deemed conclusive. We exchanged forgiveness in the name of the Lord, and in the same name cursed our destroyer, and parted, never to meet again in this world. The Fashionable-Matron-Monster,-a very formida ble and imposing animal. Her drawing-room is the most splendid that was ever protected from the vulgar glare of day by glowingly painted window-blinds. The foot sinks in her rich and velvety carpet as in a bed of moss. Her tables, of dark mahogany, or burnished rose or elm wood, reflect the carved ceiling in their massy mirrors. She sits upon the splendour of her crimson ottoman, and bestows the indubitableness of her opinions upon those who venture within fifteen yards of her magnificence. Her carriage has the deepest colouring, the largest armorial bearings, and the costliest mountings. Her horses are of unequalled size and sleekness; and her lacqueys move their empurpled limbs under a canopy of powdered and pomatummed hair. When she rides, she sees that there is a pedestrian world, but looks out upon it only with a clm sense of incalculable superiority, apparent upon the majestic ugliness of her countenance. Her obeisance is imperial, colder and statelier than the obnutation of an iceberg. Her routs are splendid and exclusive. "Family dinners," compromising and economical" hops," she probably never heard of; and if she did, she would look upon them with contempt, as tenddate and style of her cards of invitation settle the fashion for the winter. The male creatures, who receive the honour of invitations, are expected to dress with preci sion. An erroneous knot upon a neckcloth; a waistcoat buttoned too high or too low; a vulgar arrangement of hair,-not to talk of the horrible profanity of an improperly cut coat, or silk stockings a season out of date,inevitably strike the wearer off the privileged list. Her name is always found high up among the lady-patronesses and lady-directresses; and if she goes to a public place, she is followed by a select suite of young ladies, sent by their happy mammas to luxuriate in the aristocracy of her presence. Her door is unsullied with aught so vulgar as a number or a name; but you may know it by the lazy footmen, and overgrown poodles, who commonly congregate in its vicinity. Every sentiment is up in arms against this proud, unfeeling automaton; it is some comfort, therefore, to know that every body hates her, and that she is not happy. The Consequential Wise-Man-Monster.-Self-conceit, pomposity, and the profound adiniration of old women, have been an over-match for the originally weak intellect of Mr Owlstare. He now imagines himself a walking Encyclopædia, and the final court of appeal in all cases where a literary, political, moral, or religious dispute arises. Ask him to meet with the most eminent men of the day, and he never for a moment supposes that the compliment is paid to him, but to them. Tell him one of your best stories, and it will fail to produce any effect upon him; he merely hints that he has heard it better told before. Make one of your profoundest observations on philosophy or political economy, and he will only hem, and look half s ge, half contemptuous. Try him upon the fine arts, and he gives you to understand, that unless you have been to the Vatican, you cannot sail upon the same tack with him. Venture into the arcana of science, and you are silenced, by hearing him pronounce Sir Humphrey Davy a mere schoolboy. The use he makes of all the information he possesses, is to exalt himself; and when his ignorane by chance For a succession of ages Naturalists have endeavour- stares him in the face, he gets out of the dilemma, by ed to inculcate the opinion, that wild beasts are to be treating his adve sary with sarcastic indifference. In found only among the brute creation; but the melan- general company this manner is successful. He is not choly fact is at length ascertained, that many monsters, inuch liked, but he is immensely respected. Hospita besides those which usually haunt dens and caves, go ble country gentlemen, middle-rate lawyers, wealthy loose in society under false pretences, deluding that pub-merchants, with all their wives and all their daughters, MONSTERS NOT MENTIONED BY LINNEUS. hardly know how to treat him with sufficient deference. Every body begs for the honour of drinking wine with Mr Owlstare; every body is anxious to know what Mr Owlstare thinks upon the subject; every body sends the nicest cut in the whole salmon, and the wing and breast of the chicken, to Mr Owlstare. He goes into the drawing-room, and the lady of the house carries him his tea-cup with her own hands, whilst her eldest girl," who was seventeen the fifth of last September," brings him the cake. He eats and drinks an unconscionable quantity, but every body is continually beseeching him to eat and drink more. He goes home about nine-a kind of disagreeable caricature of Samuel Johnson; and his absence occasions, unconsciously, so general a relief, that the young people, in the exuberance of their spirits, propose a quadrille, and the previous generation sit down to whist, enlivening the pauses of the game by the most animated encomiums on Mr Owlstare. 66 ; Upon all subjects he is equally at home, that is to say, equally superficial. He knows all about the next Waverley novel; he writes in Blackwood's Magazine, or at least says that he writes in it; and can tell you who all the articles are by. On the Corn Laws, the Drama, the Catholic question, the Opera, Phrenology, and modern Poetry, he is ever ready to pour forth a torrent of information, of somewhat ephemeral interest, it is true, but that is not his fault. He writes and speaks on every subject that comes in his way. His father is proud of him; his mother doats on him; his sisters admire him. his cousins die for him. He publishes a thin quarto volume of very magnificently printed poetry, and, like Robert Montgomery's, his own portrait faces the title-page, his neck bare, and shirt collar turned down à la Byron, his hair combed back over his brow, and his eye looking upwards, to see what is to be seen in the sky. Sensible men pronounce him a coxcomb; but the uninitiThe Treacle-tongued-Monster-is commonly a female. ated discover genius in every line, and milliners fall into She is probably a would-be-young old maid, who has a pining melancholy by the hundred. Then comes a wormed herself into a sort of paltry independence, prin- shower of Albums, and he writes in every one of them, cipally by having had several legacies left her, as the and signs his name at full length by way of autograph. wages of toad-eating. She visits a good number of fa- All this, though it may make "the unskilful laugh, milies of respectability, on what she considers an easy cannot but make the judicious grieve." The Cleverand intimate footing; that is to say, she can look in up-young-Man-Monster, unless roused by ridicule into comon them very soon after breakfast, or about tea-time, mon sense and a useful pursuit, sinks into premature and she is sure not to derange their domestic economy, oblivion, and lives to wonder at his own littleness. for they will say,—“ Oh! it is only Miss Amelia The Insipid-young-Lady-Monster. This is a harmTreacle-tongue. Her conversation is very thickly less, but very annoying monster. She is rather pretty, studded with tender appellatives; such as my dear," lisps slightly, and, as the Ettrick Shepherd says, has a -"my love,"-terms in which she continually ad- great quantity of "waving curls abune the bree." She dresses all her female acquaintances. She is always very very frequently sits beside you at a large and ceremoniparticular in her inquiries on the subject of health, and ous dinner-party. You determine to be agreeable, and is distressed quite distressed--to hear of the slightest almost brilliant; but, to your infinite distress, you disailment. A headach" alarms" her,-a cough "sug- cover, before the soup is removed, that the fair automagests the fear of consumption,"- -a sore throat makes ton has, in her whole composition, only one idea and a her pathetic, and reminds her of the uncertainty of half. She listens to you, but does not understand you; human existence." She calls to ask after the patient your most sparkling sayings she rewards with a look of every day, often twice a day, until the most perfect con- gentle bewilderment,-half reproachful, and half deprevalescence has taken place. She apparently has the catory,—as if she fancied you were quizzing her. You most ardent attachment to all children. She takes every at length labour to say things as full of inanity and sillittle urchin in her arms, kisses him, calls him a "dar-liness as possible, and she immediately regains her comling cherub," and gazes on him delightedly, (at least when his mamma or papa is present,) although the said darling cherub" be a spoiled, clumsy, dumpy, redheaded, disagreeable varlet. With all the minutiae of little family histories Miss Amelia Treacle-tongue is particularly well acquainted; she communicates a piece of scandal in the softest and most confidential manner; she "hints a doubt," or "hesitates dislike," with a whispery gentleness, quite irresistible. She is rather delicate, yet goes abroad in all weathers. At table, not in her own house, but that of a friend,-she is continually pressing you to eat, and animadverting on the poorness of your appetite. She has no taste or ear for music; but is exceedingly useful in praising the efforts of all the young ladies of the house, and in affecting rapture, till others think it necessary to affect it too. The Dyspeptic, or Stomach-complaint-Monster. This She is rather religious, and has a temper which nothing monster is like a caterpillar in your soup, or a spider in on earth would seem capable of ruffling; yet, in truth, your tea-cup. He is called Sir Pillbox Phialton, and if her real character were known, she is the most pee-he edifies you with details of the inefficaciousness of bis vish, hypocritical, greedy, selfish, and tyrannical being in existence. She is a concentration of stings, smeared over with an external coating of honey; and does more mischief in her own officious, sneaking, underhand way, than a hundred bold downright murderers, who kill their men, and are hanged for it. 66 The Clever-young-Man-Monster.-The growth of this species of monster has been so rapid, that it almost calls for the interference of the legislature. Like the rats of the old Egyptian city, they threaten to cat up every thing. One can hardly tuin without meeting this He is about two-and-twenty; has rather an expressive face, and an interminable volubility of tongue. He is not one of those that hides his light under a bushel. monster. posure, and thinks you have begun to talk rationally. Her mamma watches the progress of the conversation, and is quite delighted with the attention you are paying her daughter. When you return to the drawing-room, a seat is reserved for you, as an especial favour, beside the Insipid-young-Lady-Monster. Your concealed yawns almost kill you; but, to make up for your real listlessness, you affect the most animated pleasure, and next day all your friends wish you joy, considering the marriage already fixed. The insipid young lady actually knits a purse for you, and sends it to you with a note, in which there are only three grammatical errors. For a month, the very sight of a petticoat gives you the va pours; and you never go to a ceremonious dinner-party without fear and trembling. digestive organs, till he almost makes you suppose you have lost your appetite yourself. There is not a medicine in the whole pharmacopeia that he has not taken by pounds or pints, until the only nutriment which his inner man can enjoy is something or other concocted in an apothecary's shop. His face has a saffron, exsanguineous hue, and smiles are strangers to its cavernous recesses. He reminds one of a raw day in February, and his conversation is like the drizzling of sleet upon a cupola. All his reading is confined to medical and non-medical treatises on health and diet. The only work of a literary kind he ever looks into, is the "Diary of an Invalid." He wonders that the horrible excesses of general society, in the matter of eating and drinking, do not throw all mankind into fevers. His children, if he has any, are little, lean, half-starved things; and they look like small memento moris collected round a death's-head. The Strong-Man-Monster.-Mr Sampson Hammerclub is six feet one in height, and proportionably broad. He is a member of all Highland and gymnastic clubs. Athletic exercises engross all his time and thoughts. He is continually walking backwards-forwards-upon his hands and feet-upon his head ;-running, leaping, riding, shooting, boxing, fencing, quoiting, putting, climbing up poles, raising weights, and fifty other similar operations. In whatever society he may be, he never sits on his seat half-an-hour at a time, without offering to exhi bit his powers, by lifting a chair in his teeth, and flinging it over his head; or bending a poker across his arm; or jumping over the table without breaking the decanters; or, if Heaven hath made you of smali dimensions, letting you stand upon one of his hands, and lifting you upon the sideboard. He has bushy, black whiskers, a strong voice, an immeasurable chest ; and moves among delicate females like a "bull in a china-shop." thinks himself the handsomest man in Scotland; and, by all persons of five feet six, is looked upon as the ugliest fellow in existence. He Many other Monsters are there, whom we can, at present, do little more than name. There is the Universallyrespected, or Exemplary Monster,-one who wants the virtue to be great, or the passion to be egregiously wrong; the Over-refined Monster,-who, instead of a gentleman, is a petit maitre, and mistakes finical nicety for taste; the Would-be-genteel Monster,-who is the vulgarest creature under the sun, because he does not know his vulgarity, and therefore boldly does things which make every body else blush for one who cannot blush for himself; the Inevitable Monster,-who, in his idleness and prosy stupidity, is continually inflicting himself upon you, and whom you are sure to meet with at every turn, without knowing how or why; the Married-man Monster,-who, from being one of the best companions in the world, suddenly becomes uxorious, rigidly moral, and a great descanter on the comforts of domestic life; the No-supper-cating Monster,-who sits down to that most social of all meals, and will touch nothing but a crust of bread and a glass of water, which he seasons with anecdotes of nightmare and apoplexy; the Clever-woman Monster, who is aged thirty, at least, and probably unmarried, and who makes her reputation the excuse for brow-beating all her female acquaintances, and saying impertinent things to the men; the Happy Monster, who is always in the most tremendous flow of good spirits, and who has no more notion of indulging you in any thing like a sentimental mood, than he would have of scattering roses over his plum-pudding before he eat it; and, lastly, the Editorial Monster,-who treats his contributors worse than negro-slaves, but of whom we shall only venture to say, that he is " a very ancient and fish-like monster." "" ORIGINAL POETRY. THE ILL-STARRED BRIDE. WHEN small bird and bright wild flower, Keep, in my old paternal glen, Blithe summer jubilee ; How comes it, that though still my heart It singeth not, it danceth not, And the hill, thick-starred with golden furze, With daisy glades between, Why do I hate to look on it, As 'twere some blasted scene? O Mary! Mary dearest! 'Twas there we spent our May, My mother, well you warned me, And it has cost me dear. I thought not that his twilight song, But Mary, my loved Mary, Became the stranger's bride, And then fate had no ills for me, Save one, which did betide. II. It was an autumn evening; The yellow leaves and brown, "Canst tell us where young Robert lives, Two stalwart strangers said. My eye fell upon Mary's home, Not one word did I say ;Before I had recall'd my glance, The men were on their way. A moment, and a moment more, Loud rose a woman's cry; At once I stood beneath that roof, In fetters of the iron cold, The men had Robert bound, I grasp'd a knife,-to deadlier arms III. They took dark Robert to the jail,→→ No man could say it nay. It was a judgment merciful, That Heaven had clos'd her sight To his most monstrous crime, whose arts She hung by him,-she clung to him ;- Walk'd with that fearful form of sin, Me he could never bear,-he turn'd He swore no other hand but mine He rail'd at base revenge,-all this From him, a wretched, raving man, But Mary, in her madness, placed She look'd abhorrence on me,-how Could I have saved her from the woe She told me, that when she and hers She said his finger, foully doom'd Would make for all my kind on earth And when stern justice did its last, They frown'd on her, they mock'd at her- Upon a gibbet high they fix'd The godless parricide. And there an armed sentinel Was order'd night and day, To watch, lest any hand should steal IV. The first night that the watch was kept, The winds forgot to moan; The moon shone full, the sentinel Seem'd grieved to be alone As to the dead man's face he glanced, The next night that the watch was kept, A shot!-'twas fired too late-I had And gallantly my trusty black The grey light of a drooping morn The horse was rein'd-his rider paused He lean'd against it, for he felt Worn both in heart and limb. Twelve tall death-tapers burn'd withinHad she expected him? An aged woman raised the latch, And cried, "Just powers! a ghost!" She fled, I totter'd after her The cottage floor I cross'd; I saw a bed-a female corpseAnd then all sense I lost! V. They gave the murderer a grave She-the heart-broken bride-was placed That in the silent churchyard grows Forgive me, God! I can't but wish That they had buried me! They say that at her dying hour She gave my faith its due; And wept to think how her poor brain She wished me happy-bootless wish! That on the spirit weighs. In vain small bird, bright wild flower, The hill displays its golden furze, Its daisy glades in vain ; No smile that Nature sheds can light 1828. By the Ettrick Shepherd. THOU art gone! thou art gone with thy sceptre of mildness! Thy smiles, and thy tears, and thy moments of wildness. But this humble memorial to thee I dedicate, Mild 1829. * For thou hast dispell'd our despairing and sadness, Blest 1828. The reaper rejoiced as he counted his sowing, And heap'd up his garners and barns to o'erflowing; And thy winter has breathed with a soft autumn heat, Kind 1828. No frost ever sheeted our rivers and fountains, For the sake of the rhythm, name the year thus,-" Eighteen hundred twenty and eight." In the region of love thy reign has been glorious, It is true thou hast run some extravagant rigs, Thou hast chill'd the soul of the mariner with wonder, Thou hast howl'd in the wind, thou hast boom'd in the thunder; But the smiles of repentance in thee were innate, Good 1828. Thou hast garnish'd the fields of Greece that were gory, (Restored to her quiet, but not to her glory!) And humbled the pride of a vain autocrat, Brave 1828. Thou art gone! thou art gone, to return to us never,In the sepulchre of Time thou art shrouded for ever; And the shadows of Oblivion shall over thee set, Mild 1828. Mount Benger, 31st Dec. 1828. A CHRISTMAS SONNET. By the Rev. Robert Morehead. THE morn returns, saluted once by song LITERARY CHIT-CHAT AND VARIETIES. We learn that a volume of Discourses, by the Rev. Dr Walker, Professor of Divinity in the Scotch Episcopal Church, and intended chiefly for the use of Theological Students, will be published during the course of the present winter. We understand that a very full reply to Professor Pillans' Letters on the Parochial Schools of Scotland is in the press, and will be published in the course of a few weeks. Dr Andrew Ure, M.D., has in the press a large octavo volume, entitled a New System of Geology, in which the great revolutions of the earth and animated nature are reconciled at once to modern science and sacred history. The Rev. J. D. Parry, M.A., of St Peter's College, Cambridge, has in the press the Legendary Cabinet, a Selection of British National Ballads, Ancient and Modern, from the best authorities, with Notes and Illustrations. A work entitled the Natural History of Enthusiasm, is in the press. We observe that the first number of "The New Scots Magazine" was published on Wednesday last. Its original articles consist of a well-written Summary of Politics for the years 1×27 and 182, Remarks on the present state of Ecclesiastical Affairs, comprising some tolerably severe animadversions on the Christian Instructor, and the conduct of Dr Andrew Thomson, a notice of the Ayrshire Sculptor, and a Review of Malcolm's Reminiscences and Campaign. The work is cheap, and very neatly arrange, and has our best wishes for its success. We understan that Captain Dillon's Voyage to the South Seas, in the course of which he discovered the remains of La Perouse's vessels, is about to be published by Colburn. We are informed that Captain Dillon visited the Tonga Islands, and had several interviews with the interesting natives, already introduced to the public in Mariner's Narrative. Dillon saw Mariner's adopted mother, Máfi Wábe, and presented her with a copy of his work on the Tonga Islands, which she was quite in ecstacy at receiving. Poor Finow is dead, and he died not in battle, but on a bed of sickness. PHRENOLOGY.-We observe that the indefatigable Mr Combe is about to commence a course of lectures on Phrenology, which he is to continue twice a-week, for three months. We may pos sibly have a few remarks to make upon them during their continuance; and, in the meantime, the following letter, which we have received from Mr Combe, explains, in a manly way, the grounds upon which he proceeds, and his reasons for calling our! attention to the subject : To the Editor of the Edinburgh Literary Journal. SIR,-It is now ten years since I first ventured to advocate the cause of Phrenology, in opposition to the almost universal prejudice of the public against it. During the whole of that period, I have made no appeal to the conductors of the pe riodical press, either to deprecate their severity, to bespeak their courtesy, or even to solicit their attention to the subject. This proceeded from no opinion that their ir fluence was unimportant, but from a desire to re t the cause of Phrenology, in the first instance, on its own merits exclusively. The experience of ten years has shown, that this course was equally safe and beneficial; and, in now soliciting your acceptance of a ticket to my next course of lectures, I merely mention, that the subject is known to a large and enlightened portion of the citizens of Edinburgh; that the study of it is daily extending, and that it has met with favour in exact proportion to its being understood. It will afford me much pleasure, therefore, if you, as the head of a respectable Journal, shall now consider it as not unbecoming to form one of my audience, with a view to acquiring some knowledge of its principles and evidence.-I am, sir, "Your very obedient servant, "GEO. COMER." "Edinburgh, Jan. 1st, 1829. Theatrical Gossip.--Alexander has opened the Caledonian Theatre with a great assortment of farthing candles, calling themselves stars.-A monkey and a goat have made their appearance at the Theatre Royal; also two new pieces called "The Married Bachelor," and "The First Foot," the latter of which is hap pily timed, and well acted by Mackay, Denham, Murray, and Miss Noel.-Young Kean has played Romeo, at Drury Lane, to Miss Phillips' Juliet. The Christmas Pantomimes have been brought out at the London theatres in great force; one is called "The Golden Bee, or the Fairy Hive." and the other "Little Red Riding Hood." What has become of our own manager's promised pantomime?-Irish Johnstone, the best Brulgruddery, Sir Lucius O Trigger, and Major O'Flaherty, which the stage ever had, died a few days ago, in his 82d year. SAT. WEEKLY LIST OF PERFORMANCES. As You Like it, Married Bachelor, & Bottle Imp. Books very recently published.-Memoirs of Scipio de Ricci, translated by Roscoe, 2 vols. 8vo, L.1, 1s. boards.-The Castilian, by the author of Gomez Arias, 3 vols. post 8vo, L. 1, 11s. 6d. boards.-Hungarian Tales, by the author of the Lettre de Cachet, 3 vo's. post 8vo, L.1, 11s. 6d. boards.-Elements of Geogra phy, 12mo, 2s. half-bound.-Belfrage's Counsels for the Sanctu ary, post 8vo, 7s. 6d. boards.-English History made easy, on a popular plan, 18mo, 3s. 6d. half-bound.-Conversations on the Life of Christ, 18mo, 2s. 6d. half-bound.-Winter Evenings at College, 2 vols. 18mo, 8s half-bound.-Wadd on Corpulency, &c. with plates, 8vo, 8s. 6d. boards.-Saul at Endor, a Dramatic Sketch, by the Rev. E. Smedley, 8vo, 3s. 6d. sewed. -A Sunday Bok, Moral Discourses for Young Persons, 2 vols. 18mo, 9s. cloth.-Merry Thoughts for Merry Moments, oblong folio, 5s. sewed.-The Thrush, a Collection of Songs, 12mo, 4s. 6d. boards. -The Nightingale, a Collection of Songs, 12mo, 4s. 6d. boards. M'Gavin's Scots Worthies, vol. II. 8vo, 11s.; vol. I., sixth edi tion, 8vo, 11s.-Protestant Reformation Vindicated, by the author of the Protestant, 4s. 6d. TO OUR CORRESPONDENTS. WE have much pleasure in promising a poem from the pen Mrs Grant, of Laggan, in our next. of "The First Foot" is an interesting tale, but not exactly ac cording to our taste.-It is quite impossible that we can notice a work On the Authenticity of Ossian's Poems," publishe so far back as 1825, the more especially as the subject seems deservedly to have lost its interest.-We think "An Admirer of the Imagi native" could send us something good, illustrative of his own views regarding the Imagination. S." of Aberdeen would have eployed his time to greater advantage had he given us a better account of the work of which he speaks, than that to which he objects.-The Essay on the "Spirit of the Provision of the Law of Scotland regarding Injury and Wrong" is ably written, but rather too professional for our pages. We purpose giving a place to "The Alpine Horn" when we can find room; and we beg to state generally that a considerable number of poetical communications are in the same predicament -not rejected, but waiting for their turn.-A. L." will not suit us, but he will improve as he proceeds." The Last Night of the Year," "Weep, weep for me," and the "Lines to a Lady," do not come up to our standard." P. K." of Aberdeen, and "X. Y. Z." of Brechin, will not be overlooked. |