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he at least gains the credit of having their names mentioned together, by a particular set, and in a particular way, which, nine times out of ten, is the full accomplishment of modern gallantry.
Now, sir, the puff collateral is much used as an appendage to advertisements, and may take the form of anecdote. Yesterday, as the celebrated George Bon-Mot was sauntering down St. James's Street, he met the lively Lady Mary Myrtle, coming out of the Park,—“ Heavens, Lady Mary, I'm surprised to meet you in a white jacket, for I expected never to have seen you, but in a full trimmed uniform and a light-horseman's cap!”– “ Bless me, George, where could you have learned that?"_“ Why," replied the wit, “ I just saw a print of you in a new publication called the Camp Magazine, which, by-the-by, is a monstrous clever thing, and is sold at No. 3, on the right hand of the way, two doors from the printing-office, the corner of IvyLane, Paternoster-Row, price only one shilling!”
But the puff coHusive is the newest of any; for it acts in the disguise of determined hostility. It is much used by bold booksellers and enterprising poets. An indignant correspondent observes, that the new poem called Beelzebub's Cotillon, or Proserpine's Fete Champetre, is one of the most unjustifiable performances he ever read; the severity with which certain characters are handled is quite shocking; and as there are many descriptions in it too warmly coloured for female delicacy, the shameful avidity with which this piece is bought by all people of fashion, is a reproach on the taste of the times, and a disgrace to the delicacy of the age! Here, you see, the two strongest inducements are held forth: first, that nobody ought to read it; and secondly, that every body buys it; on the strength of which, the publisher boldly prints the tenth edition, before he had sold ten of the first; and then establishes it by threatening himself with the pillory, or absolutely indicting himself for scan, mag.!
As to the puff oblique, or puff by implication, it is too various and extensive to be illustrated by an instance; it attracts in titles, and presumes in patents; it lurks in the limitation of a subscription, and invites in the assurance of crowd and incommodation at public places; it delights to draw forth concealed merit, with a most disinterested assiduity; and sometimes wears a countenance of smiling censure and tender reproach. It has a wonderful memory for parliamentary debates, and will often give the whole speech of a favoured member with the most flattering accuracy. But, above all, it is a great dealer in reports and suppositions. It has the earliest intelligence of intended preferments that will reflect honour on the patrons; and embryo promotions of modest gentlemen—who know nothing of the matter themselves. It can hint a ribband for implied services, in the air of a common report; and with the carelessness of a casual paragraph, suggest officers into commands—to which they have no pretension but their wishes. This, sir, is the last principal class of the art of puffing, an art which I hope you will now agree with me, is of the highest dignityyielding a tablature of benevolence and public spirit; befriending equally trade, gallantry, criticism, and politics: the applause of genius! the register of charity! the triumph of heroism! the self-defence of contractors! the fame of orators! and the gazette of ministers !
THE SPIRIT'S PRAYER.
A SPIRIT, whom the voice of death
Had call’d from this cold sphere,
To look at scenes once dear;
Her face, had died away,
She left beside her clay.
Her eye beheld, with strange delight,
The systems round her roll;
Broke on her wondering soul:
Beneath her airy tread, Lit by each solitary star
That round her calmly spread.
She saw the city of her birth
Beneath the moonshine lie,
Unheeded fall and die,
They fell and left no trace,
Through the wide fields of space.
She gazed through the unclouded air,
Where once her mansion lay;
Beside her tombless clay:
Unheeded, round her bow,
That hid her lifeless brow!
They were in want-none came to cheer,
Even hope in darkness slept!
And as she saw she wept;
Far through the slumbering air,
She breathed a mother's prayer:
Eternal Spirit! comfort now
Yon mourners in their dark abode;
Their Guardian and their God;
And prattled in their infant glee,
That would have turn'd their hearts to thee.
Then oh, bind up the broken heart,
Which few in yon cold world will heal;
That misery's victims feel?
That bends on thee faith's trusting eye;
In sunshine to the sky.
Then smile upon their opening bloom,
Let virtue lead their hearts above;
They share once more a mother's love !"
Love's brightening banner to her given:-
And bore away for heaven.
TELL'S ADDRESS TO HIS NATIVE MOUNTAINS.
YE crags and peaks! I'm with you once again-
How high you lift your heads into the sky!
Scaling yonder peak,
The land was free! oh, with what pride I used
It was free-