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THE DAY,

A MORNING JOURNAL OF LITERATURE, FINE ARTS, FASHION, &c.

CARPE DIEM.

GLASGOW, MONDAY, MARCH 19, 1832.

OUTLINES OF WESTERN SOCIETY.-No. II.
(From the Note-book of an Artist.)

PERHAPS no class of men derive so much advantage from letters of introduction as the fraternity to which I belong; and, as these advantages may be gleaned more or less, in almost every grade of society except the lowest, 'it ought to be a matter of consideration with all dependents on the palet, to have their letters of as miscellaneous a character as possible. For myself, I was particularly attentive as to this matter, so much so, that I have been dining in Blythwood Square on turtle, turkey poute and roast venison, with the accompaniment of hock or champaigne, and, the same evening, supping in a back land in the Trongate, with a frank laughter-loving, motled-faced butcher and his jolly double-chinned helpmate, on minched collops, black puddings and whisky toddy, and, I will honestly admit, that I have found greater benefit in my profession from the vulgar straight-forward wish-to-befriendly sort of conduct of the latter, who would often banter his neighbours and their wives into a sitting, than from my fashionable friend at the west end, who would too often consider, that, by having my feet under his mahogany for an afternoon, he had suffi ciently honoured the draft which I held on his good offices. It must, however, be acknowledged, that a letter of introduction is, in the present age, generally considered to mean little more than a passport to the table of the person to whom it is addressed, at some one of the stated feeding hours of the day, and these hours are chiefly regulated by the circumstances, temper and profession of the individual. For instance, if any of my readers have such a letter to a clergyman, or a person connected with missionary or temperance societies, I would advise him not to expect anything more than an invitation to breakfast, and, really, an invitation of this kind, particularly if it should be given in winter, must appear to every reflecting mind rather as an infliction than an act of courtesy ; but, as such an act, the unfortunate letter-carrier is bound to receive it. If the letter happens to be addressed to a manufacturer, a merchant, a lawyer, or a substantial housekeeping bachelor, the hope of an invite to "pot luck" may be very rationally entertained. If, to a family man, with more than one daughter, a card to tea is sure to be the result, when the bearer will find (provided he happens to be a single man) a whole circle of elegant, fascinating creatures, with their intelligent mamas, awaiting his arrival. It was to a party of this kind that I made my first bow in Glasgow, and though I could not consider those present entitled to rank first in the list of fashionables, yet the affair, so far as unceasing loquacity among the ladies was concerned, went off with considerable eclat. The eldest daughter of our host presided at the tea-table, that is to say, she poured out the fragrant beverage, and kept a sharp look out on the ladies and gentlemen to whom the various cups were appropriated. This is reckoned a most important duty, which no young lady with any pretensions to good breeding will ever neglect.

The formalities being gone through, and the kind, considerate mistress of the ceremonies having, in the usual set phrases of tea-table politeness, pressed the ladies and gentlemen to take out their

spoons for "another cup-half cup, or quarter," the tea-things were removed, and the buzz of suppressed conversation gradually spread round the room, and waxed louder and louder as the parties engaged found themselves getting more at their ease with each other. As to myself, I had got into an argument with a bas bleu, on the singularity of the Edinburgh accent, which, she contended, was more decidedly vulgar than even that of Paisley; as, for the people of Glasgow, she denied, most strongly, that they had any accent at all, but spoke the English language so plain and distinct, that no person, by hearing them could tell, with certainty, what part of the country they came from; this was such a novel idea to me, that I could not help smiling, at what I supposed to be intended for waggery, on the part of my fair opponent, who, seeing my incredulity, appealed to a gentleman near us, who, with all imaginable gravity, supported what she had advanced, and, by way of clinching the argument, in her favour, instanced the public cries of the two cities; those of Edinburgh, he said, were perfectly unintelligible to a stranger, while, on the contrary, the cries of Glasgow were plain and distinct to all; for example, said he, raising his voice to a triumphant pitch, in Edinburgh, you will hear them crying pee-ree-eer-ee-o-rie, now, said he, addressing himself to me, is there a person here, besides you and I, could tell what was intended to be sold by such sounds; "peers and oranges," cried a lovely blue-eyed romp, who, instantly, as if alarmed at hearing her own voice, drew back, giggling and blushing, and hid her face behind her elder sister, who gently chid her for being so forward. Nay, ladies, continued the champion of the bas bleu, it is not peers and oranges" that are meant by pee-ree-eer-ee-o-rie, but neither more nor less, than good mealy potatoes; this was followed by a general titter, at the expense of the Athenians, from all the ladies within hearing, and pee-ree-eer-ee-o-rie, was trilled out in rotation, by the fair mimics around me, till those at a distance caught the sound, and an explanation being called for and given. It was decided by all, that I was quite in the wrong-no real Glasgow person having any thing about his language, that could be considered as a peculiar accent; finding myself opposed to so overwhelming a majority, I made an entry in my note book, of the fact, and determined, in future, not to trust my ears with the direction of my judgment, on the subject. After this important matter was disposed of, an old lady proposed that the two daughters of our host should favour the company with a duet; I was rather surprised at the request, as one of the girls had a bur, and the other a snivel, and how these would harmonise, I was at a loss to know. was, however, told that the ladies were "terrible fine singers," and a number of the gentlemen, who appeared to be no strangers to the vocal powers of the fair ones, exerted their eloquence in urging them to commence. To these importunities, papa and mama added their parental injunctions; "a slight cold," "hoarseness," "head-ache," "inability," were all severally pleaded, according to the usual form, but not being sustained by the company, after a good deal of ill affected reluctance,

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To please papa, and eke each gentleman, The angels blew their noses and began.

As I had been so much at fault in the opinion I hazarded respecting the accent of Glasgow people, I will not venture a remark on this first specimen I had heard of their singing.

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The same old lady, who had been instrumental in bringing forward the talents of the ladies, to the notice and applause of the company, now proposed that " Geordie," as she called a tall awkward looking figure, who sat with his hands a la muff, in the recess of his trowsers, should amuse the company with a piece of recitation." Our Geordie," after a few excuses, lurched forward towards a vacant space in the room, and spreading forth a pair of hands like a brace of fire-shovels, commenced to give " Mary the Maid of the Inn." He floundered, however, in the second verse, and the old lady, who seemed to take a maternal charge of him, insisted on his giving, in place of it, "a bit" of a speech, which, it seems, he had prepared for delivery at the Andersonian Soirée. "Our Geordie" again addressed himself to enact the part of the orator, and the old lady turned to me and observed, that Geordie was "a perfyte genius-besides a great chemist." Silence being obtained, the "perfyte genius" thus commenced." The discovery which I have the honour to lay before this learned and illustrious body, was made, as all great discoveries have been made, by accident. I happened, one morning, to be perambulating the banks of the Monkland canal, when I observed a singular circuitous motion in the water. I stopped to examine, and found it proceeded from a fish; I also discovered several other fishes performing the same rotatory motion, and it instantly struck me that a phenomenon so very curious, must arise, from some hidden cause. I therefore, with much trouble, possessed myself of several of the rotatory fish, who, be it observed, were all performing the circular movements on the top of the water, and I hastened home in order to examine, more at leisure, the cause that had produced so wonderful an effect. On opening the fish I found in every one of them a small transparent azure coloured bag, of very close and amazingly fine texture, which seemed to me to contain a gas, so amazingly powerful, as to have raised the fish from its natural station in the water, and kept it, evidently against its will, at the top. I was the more convinced of the truth of my discovery; for, by putting some of the little bags which I had not punctured, in a basin of water, I found them float on the top of the water, while the fish from which I had taken them, instantly sunk to the bottom." Our orator was here interrupted by the old lady, exclaiming, "tuts man, Geordie, that's the fishes' bleather, the fish could na soom the length o' its tae if it were na for that." A loud laugh followed the old lady's remark, and " our Geordie," after having recourse to his snuff-box and handkerchief, gave up his discovery, and retired in confusion to his seat.

The toddy bowl was at length introduced, and our hospitable landlord assumed the wooden sceptre; the glasses circulated with effective rapidity, while toast, song and recitation, came spontaneously forth from the different quarters of the room. In the intervals, between the display of melody and eloquence, the gossip of the ladies became amusingly loud, while the disjointed snatches of their conversation, as they fell upon the ear, produced an effect sufficiently absurd; it is scarcely possible to give even a faint idea of the confused tittle-tattle in which the terms marriage, silk gown, nice man, pink saucers, new boa, fine girl, coral and bells, splendid coffin, dress cap, Prussian bracelets, pious woman, box ticket, muff and tippet, steam boat, venison, haberdashery, Dr. Chalmers, tooth-powder, baby-linen, strawberry jam, handsome sideboard and a thousand others, fell in ridiculous disorder on the ear. Tired with listening to the noisy fragments of a conversation which I could not understand, I drew towards a little coterie of intelligent

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matrons who seemed to have formed a conversational party in a recess where the annoyance was not so great; here I had the gossip of the evening more in detail, which was proceeding thus, as I came within earshot." O, mem! speaking about butter, did ye ye hear what happened to me in the butter market the ither day?" No, mem, dear me what happened ?" "I'll tell ye that, mem-it was just the other night I was thinking to mysel, and, thinks I to mysel, in these hard times, if I could get a bargain o' some butter, although it was a wee auld tasted, or moatie, it might do weel enough for servants, as they might pick the moats out o't at night when they were thrang; so I gaes awa' to the Bazaar next day, and I asked a woman if she had ony dirty butter for servants, and she answered, in a gay thiveless like way, and I goes away tae twa or three, asking if they had ony dirty butter for servants, and I was never dreaming o' ony thing wrang, but, when I looks roun' there's a great band o' idle like hizzies wi' their baskets and they a' began tae abuse me, and I says tae them, quo' I, ye idle like women, quo' I, is that the way to speak tae ane that might be your mistressso I turns and comes awa, and the hale tot followed me down the Candleriggs crying, 'dirty butter, dirty butter.' I declare I never was sae muckle affronted in the hail course o' my life." "Ah! Mrs. Petticraw, nae wonder ye was affronted-servants hae gane aff at the nail a'thegither now: I'll tell ye how I was served the ither day. Our gudeman's gay and fond o' a sheep's head, ye see, mem, and I took yen o' the las sies wi' me tae the market, tae buy a sheep's head, and twa three odds and ends that I wanted, and when I cam back, there's some ladies waiting for me in the parlour, and I gaes awa ben tae gae the ladies a dram-ladies look for something o' that kind when they come into a house, ye ken mem-weel, when the ladies gaed awa, I gead ben tae the kitchen, tae see how the lass was cumin on wi the head, weel, what do ye think she's doin mem? she has a skewer in her hand, and she's picking the een out o' the sheep's head -dear me, quo I, lassie, quo I, are ye picking the een out o' the bease head." "O, quo she, mistress, I didna ken they were for eating." "Didna ken they were for eating, quo I!!! the very best bit in a' the beast, now, Mrs. Petticraw, could ony levin flesh endure the like o' that." Mrs. Petticraw was about to reply, when silence was called from the chair, and it was announced that Mr. Momus M'Phun was going to favour the company with an imitation of his "Grany." Mr. Momus was the wag of the company; for, be it known unto thee, gentle reader, that no "real convivial" party can take place in Glasgow, unless there is either a "wag" or a "wild devil" present. Mr. Momus M'Phun commenced his exhibition by dressing his hand with the assistance of his handkercheif and a burned cork, so as to appear as the face of a little old woman, and the resemblance, it must be confessed, was ludicrously like, he then proceeded to hold a coloquy with it. Mimicing with considerable effect, the toothless garrulity of age, his imitation called forth quite a tempest of applause, and, when the uproarious mirth which he excited, had a little subsided, the glasses were filled, and the host, after ringing a peel on the edge of the bowl, called upon the company to drink a bumper to Mr. Momus M'Phun and his Grany.

The door now opened and a servant entered, bearing a tray loaded with sandwiches, cold fowl, tongue, cheese cake and other little items of confectionery. With these she proceeded slowly round the room which was now crowded to excess, and, a little way behind her, came Mr. Momus M'Phun, in his character of wag, or clown of the evening, carrying a mustard pot and spoon, with which he played off some excellent practical jokes, that told with great effect on the younger portion of the ladies. Behind him came "our Geordie," bearing a large goblet of porter, which he handed from lady to lady, receiving, oc

casionally, some rather left-handed compliments on his scientific discoveries.

The feeding being over, the bowl was resumed and the amusements of the evening proceeded, till one of the elderly matrons observed, it was "time the ladies should get on their things." The fair one's instantly took flight and the gentlemen gathered round the bowl and drank the health of the absentees with praiseworthy enthusiasm. After a reasonable absence, the ladies, at the urgent entreaties of our hostess, returned, and all the company having formed "Auld lang a circle round the bowl, joined in singing syne." "Deuch an dorus," was then handed round after which, the ladies being committed to the charge of the different gentlemen, we were lighted down stairs. On reaching the street a general shaking of hands took place; on exchanging this civility with Mrs. Pette craw, I received a very kind invitation to a party which she intended giving the ensuing week.

THE SILENCE OF THE TOMB.

(From the German.)

"Here lurks no treason—here no envy swells— Here grow no damned grudges-here no storms—No noise-but silence and eternal sleep."

ALAMANSOR, a rich and noble Arab, ate, drank and enjoyed himself in all the luxuries that life can afford. One day, devoured by ennui and overcome by disgust, he was seized with an unaccountable whim—that, namely, of paying a visit to the sepulchre of his forefathers. Thither he repaired, descended into the tomb and wandered about amidst the mouldering relics of mortality, not, however, laying it to heart, that he, too, must soon become as they were, but sauntering along with the feelings of a voluptuary, and only exclaiming :-" O, Mahomet! what a cool retreat from the fervour of a burning sun, and how pleasantly digestion here, performs her functions!"

Suddenly his attention was arrested by a half effaced inscription. "In this grave," it is said, "is concealed a treasure- -a treasure greater than any that Cœsus ever had." Alamansor, on whose fortune dissipation had made deep impressions, instantly and eagerly opened the grave and found only a handful of dust and a marble tablet, whereon was inscribed, "Until thou, erring mortal, with impious hand, profanedst this, the last resting place of wearied humanity, there reigned here-rest uninterrupted-a treasure which Coesus himself, never had the fortune to possess !"

LITERARY CRITICISM.

EUGENE ARAM, a Tale, by the Author of "Pelham, Devereux,
&c." 3 vols.-London, 1832.

THIS work has been now some time before the public,
and has afforded a topic for criticism, in almost every
Journal in the empire. This circumstance of itself, is
perhaps sufficient to shew that the work is one of no
the many
ordinary a nature: one in fact which, among
novels of the day, is destined to outlive the twelve-
month which gave it birth. Mr. Bulwer, the author
of the work before us, is one who has arrived at that
enviable station in the republic of letters, where he
may disdainfully disclaim the ordinary bookseller's puff,
and, what is more, may stand the trying test of a just
and honest criticism. The man who could write
"Pelham," and "Devereux," has no need to fear the
party-spirit aspersions of the ultra-tory Journalists,
nor will it add to his plume of fame, to obtain the
equally party-spirit fawnings of the too frequently
nicknamed Radical Reviewers. The author of Eugene
Aram, is in fact, beyond the pale of the small fry of
party critics, and has taken a place among the imagi-
native writers of the age, little removed from that
now occupied by the Wizard of the North!

If the former novels of Bulwer raised him to this

enviable station, not only in the estimation of his own countrymen, but also of the readers of romances on the banks of the Seine, and the Elbe; we are far from thinking that the work which he has lately sent forth to the world will derogate from his high fame and character as a novelist. However various the opinions of those may be on the management of the real materials of the story of Eugene Aram, no one who has attentively perused the volumes now before us, will deny that the author, so far as his version of the tale goes, has produced a story of most absorbing interest, and one, too, which bears on its bosom a touching and terrible moral.

It would far exceed our limits to enter into the story of this powerful romance, or to attempt even to sketch the various personages which play a part in this eventful tragedy. Suffice it to say, that it is a tale which developes some of the most powerful features of humanity, which inculcates some of the most striking philosophical truths, and which awakens some of the most touching traits of female feeling. How splendidly delineated are the musings, and the melancholy of the scholarmurderer-his constraint and his remorse-his embittered heart and his aching conscience-his love and his despair! How beautifully painted are the two lovely daughters of Lester. The noble-minded, ardent devoted Madeline—the sweet, the simple, the tenderhearted, Ellinor. How natural, too, is the youthful impetuosity of Walter Lester brought out. How odd, yet, how true to English manners, is the character of Bunting. How fearfully limned are the terrible feelings and sentiments of Houseman. All the characters introduced, are, in fact, so individualized, as to stand out ready for the dramatist, a circumstance, which has been already taken advantage of, by certain of the Playwrights of the metropolis.

Perhaps, in none of Mr. Bulwer's former novels, has he exhibited so delicate a touch in the portraits of his females, as in those which figure in this novel. The picture of the two fair sisters of Grassdale are, perhaps, no where equalled, nor is there, in the whole vast region of romance, a more natural and naive delineation of female feeling, than that which Mr. Bulwer has given the world, in the several bed-room conferences which take place between the sisters, at the time when both felt the power of the tender passion, and felt, too, that they were, themselves, beloved. The following evening colloquy will best illustrate Mr. Bulwer's happy method of sketching the homely scenes of the Manor House of Grassdale, and will, probably, induce some of our fair readers to dip into the work itself, which, although one of the most tragic kind, is, at the same time, well worthy of an attentive perusal.

It was a custom with the two sisters, when they repaired to their chamber for the night, to sit conversing, sometimes even for This indeed was the hours, before they finally retired to bed.

usual time for their little confidences, and their mutual dilations over those hopes and plans for the future, which always occupy the larger share of the thoughts and conversation of the young. I do not know any thing in the world more lovely than such conferences between two beings who have no secrets to relate but what arise, all fresh, from the springs of a guiltless heart,—those pure and beautiful mysteries of an unsullied nature which warm us to hear; and we think with a sort of wonder when we feel how arid experience has made ourselves, that so much of the dew and sparkle of existence still linger in the nooks and valleys, which are as yet virgin of the sun and of mankind.

The sisters this night were more than commonly indifferent to sleep. Madeline sate by the small but bright hearth of the chamber, in her night dress, and Ellinor, who was much prouder of her sister's beauty than her own, was employed in knotting up the long and lustrous hair which fell in rich luxuriance over Madeline's throat and shoulders.

"There certainly never was such beautiful hair!" said Ellinor admiringly; and, let me see,—yes,-on Thursday fortnight I may be dressing it, perhaps, for the last time-heigho!"

"Don't flatter yourself that you are so near the end of your troublesome duties," said Madeline, with her pretty smile, which had been much brighter and more frequent of late than it was formerly wont to be, so that Lester had remarked "That Madeline really appeared to have become the lighter and gayer of the two."

"You will come to stay with us for weeks together, at least till

-till you have a double right to be mistress here. Ah! my poor hair, you need not pull it so hard.”

"Be quiet, then," said Ellinor, half laughing, and wholly blushing.

"Trust me, I have not been in love myself without learning its signs; and I venture to prophesy that within six months you will come to consult me whether or not,-for there is a great deal to be said on both sides of the question,-you can make up your mind to sacrifice your own wishes, and marry Walter Lester. Ah!-gently, gently. Nell-”

"Promise to be quiet."

"I will-I will; but you began it."

As Ellinor now finished her task, and kissed her sister's forehead, she sighed deeply.

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'Happy Walter !" said Madeline.

"I was not sighing for Walter, but for you."

"For me?-impossible! I cannot imagine any part of my future life that can cost you a sigh. Ah! that I were more worthy of my happiness."

"Well, then," said Ellinor, "I sighed for myself;-I sighed to think we should so soon be parted, and that the continuance of your society would then depend not on our mutual love, but the will of another."

"What, Ellinor, and can you suppose that Eugene,-my Eugene, would not welcome you as warmly as myself? Ah! you misjudge him; I know you have not yet perceived how tender a heart lies beneath all that melancholy and reserve."

"I feel, indeed," said Ellinor warmly, "as if it were impossible that one whom you love should not be all that is good and noble; yet if this reserve of his should increase, as is at least possible, with increasing years; if our society should become again, as it once was, distasteful to him, should I not lose you, Madeline?"

"But his reserve cannot increase: do you not perceive how much it is softened already? Ah! be assured that I will charm it away."

"But what is the cause of the melancholy that even now, at times, evidently preys upon him?-has he never revealed it to you?"

"It is merely the early and long habit of solitude and study, Ellinor," replied Madeline;" and shall I own to you I would scarcely wish that away; his tenderness itself seems linked with his melancholy. It is like a sad but gentle music, that brings tears into our eyes, but which we would not change for gayer airs for the world."

"Well, I must own," said Ellinor, reluctantly, "that I no longer wonder at your infatuation; I can no longer chide you as I once did; there is, assuredly, something in his voice, his look, which irresistibly sinks into the heart. And there are moments when, what with his eyes and forehead, his countenance seems more beautiful, more impressive, than any I ever beheld. Perhaps, too, for you, it is better, that your lover should be no longer in the first flush of youth. Your nature seems to require something to venerate, as well as to love. And I have ever observed at prayers, that you seem more especially rapt and carried beyond yourself, in those passages which call peculiarly for worship and adoration."

"Yes, dearest," said Madeline fervently, "I own that Eugene is of all beings, not only of all whom I ever knew, but of whom I ever dreamed, or imagined, the one that I am most fitted to love and to appreciate. His wisdom, but more than that, the lofty tenor of his mind, calls forth all that is highest and best in my own nature. I feel exalted when I listen to him ;--and yet, how gentle, with all that nobleness! And to think that he should descend to love me, and so to love me. It is as if a star were to leave its sphere!"

"Hark! one o'clock," said Ellinor, as the deep voice of the clock told the first hour of morning. "Heavens! how much louder the winds rave. And how the heavy sleet drives against the window! Our poor watch without! but you may be sure my uncle was right, and they are safe at home by this time; nor is it likely, I should think, that even robbers would be abroad in such weather!"

“I have heard,” said Madeline, "that robbers generally choose these dark, stormy nights for their designs, but I confess I don't feel much alarm, and he is in the house. Draw nearer to the fire, Ellinor; is it not pleasant to see how serenely it burns, while the storm howls without! it is like my Eugene's soul, luminous, and lone, amidst the roar and darkness of this unquiet world!"

"There spoke himself," said Ellinor smiling to perceive how invariably women, who love, imitate the tone of the beloved one. And Madeline felt it, and smiled too.

After perusing this extract, it is perhaps not too much of thee, gentle reader, to expect that thou wilt feel an anxiety to turn to the volumes themselves, for at least a newer excitement than the Cholera : or for a momentary relief from the everlasting discussions on The Bill!

GLASGOW REMINISCENCES.

THE following singular advertisement will perhaps give a better key to the state of feeling which prevailed in our city, in 1779, than any thing that could be said or sung, now a-days :

"That having some houses to build at Jeanston, any man that builds one or more of them, must keep six layers on the walls, besides his other hewers and darksmen; and shall get from me three pounds the first week, four the second, and five the third week, to pay his men; and the balance paid him that day the work is done. And he is to have nought for lintels or sharping irons, nor soles or foundations, but only his agreed price for the rood. His servants are not to curse or swear; and, if they do, they are to pay as by Act of Parliament, or as the magistrates have fixed it.

Whoever agree, must give me in their estimates on Friday, and begin on Monday. ROBERT M'NAIR.

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CICERO NO POET.-As to Cicero, I am of the common opinion, that (learning excepted) he had no great natural parts. He was

a good citizen, of an affable nature, as all fat heavy men, such as he was, usually are; but given to ease, and had a mighty share of vanity and ambition. Neither do I know how to excuse him for thinking his poetry fit to be published. 'Tis no great imperfection to make bad verses but it is an imperfection not to be able to judge how unworthy his verses were of the glory of his name. For what concerns his eloquence, that is totally out of comparison, and I believe it will never be equalled.-Montaigne.

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THE DAY.

A MORNING JOURNAL OF LITERATURE, FINE ARTS, FASHION, &c.

CARPE DIEM.

GLASGOW, TUESDAY, MARCH 20, 1832.

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BEPPO.

I was just taking a last look at my mirror, and putting the finish to the tie of my neckloth, preparatory to my appearance at the Assembly, the other evening, when my servant knocked at the bed-room door, and informed me, that a gentleman was waiting for me in the parlour.

"A gentleman calling upon me at this hour! James, did you not tell him that I was particularly engaged?" I enquired, not very well pleased at the interruption.

"Yes, Sir, I said that you could not possibly see any person to-night, as you were occupied with important business; but the gentleman did not mind me at all, for he just winked to me and brushed into the house, saying, that he knew what was your business, and that it was to talk about it that he came to see you."

"Confound his impertinence," I exclaimed, "what sort of a gentleman is he? Tell him I'm not at home, or sick-anything."

"I told him you were not at home, Sir, and he said you were not far away, then; and I said you were complaining a little, but he maintained that he would doctor you. He's a Highland gentleman, Sir, and will take no denial."

Well, thought I, there is no help for me; and, even at the risk of leaving my toilet unfinished, I must go down stairs and see what this Highland gentleman wants. I had no sooner entered the parlour, than I found a brawny fist thrust into my own, and a stout, but rather handsome man, of about thirty, accosted me with a northern accent, and a rapid utterance.

"Ha! Mr. Spectacles, how glad I am to see you," were the first words he uttered, "it is your friend, Mr. Duncan, has requested me to deliver this note into your possession. He is a cousin of my own, Sir, and when I came all the way from Loch-na-meol to Glasgow, I found he has caught the rheumatism with the rain, and wishes you to take me to the assembly to see the ladies."

I took the card which was offered me by my new acquaintance, and found it confirming the particulars which he related, and introducing to my especial care, Mr. Neil M‹K. of Loch-na-meol. At any other time, the slightest hint from "Uncle Duncan" would have been sufficient to make me bestow the most obsequious attention on any of his friends, but just at the moment when I was preparing for an assembly, to be incumbered by an outlandish companion, was a favour which I could not receive agreeably even from the kind old gentleman. I thought of the ridicule which would be excited at the assembly, by the behaviour of a country laird, who, as Uncle Duncan said himself, had scarcely ever been in gay society. I figured to myself the depreciation to which I should be exposed, by being seen in public with a new man; and these considerations presented themselves so for

cibly, that I resolved at once to escape from the engagement if possible. All this passed through my mind in a moment; in the mean time, the Highlander's tongue never rested for a moment.

"I am told, Mr. Spectacles, that you are the best person in the world for shewing a stranger to an assembly, so I hope for your good offices to-night, and you may depend upon my serving you as a friend again. I have a noddy at the door, which I would have required to hire for my own use, and you shall have a seat in it without a farthing of expense.

With

In this way, he continued his frank address, without my being able, for some time, to interrupt him. At last, I merely got a word or two squeezed in, to plead an apology for declining his company, but, this unwillingness, on my part, was all attributed to coyness, about accepting his offer of a free conveyance. many blunt and honest protestations, therefore, he insisted upon my taking my place in his noddy, and, actually, dragged me into it, while he assured me that I was as welcome there as I could be in a carriage of my own.

The coachman shut us both in together, and, mounting his box, drove off with an alacrity which accorded very ill with my wishes and feelings. I now found myself fairly imprisoned with this unfashionable Highlander, without the slightest possibility of escaping. My fate was exactly that of a criminal, in the act of being led to execution. In a space of time inconceivably little, I was to brave the lustre of a large and brilliant room, with one, whom, in the bitterness of my heart, I accused of all the ignorance of polished manners, of which it was possible to conceive any human being capable. I anticipated, in my imagination, a thousand awkward blunders, which, he would, infallibly, commit, and I tortured myself with reflecting upon the public disgrace which would be thus entailed upon myself. The titter of the ladies, and the sneers of the beaux, rose before my appalled mind, like the dreams of an opium eater, and already inflicted upon me, all the tortures of a degraded dandy. To increase my misery, my tormentor pursued his unceasing talk, without remission, and filled up the intervals of my melancholy reflections, with evidences. of his unfitness for polished society. He kept continually dunning into my ears, the request that I would get him some handsome lassie for a partner, who could dance a reel, for hours, without tiring. In the height of his enthusiasm, he threatened to spring to the ceil ing, and, with the utmost glee, talked of catching a kiss in a quiet corner. At that moment, my sensations were so powerful that I could not find utterance to correct my companion's mistaken notions of conduct, and I contented myself with vowing, against Uncle Duncan, and his recommendations, comme tous les quatre.

The stopping of the carriage was a shock which nearly unnerved me altogether. The windows were let down, and the door opened with a violence which made my sickened soul sink within me; and, when I essayed to step out of the chaise, it was with difficulty that my limbs could perform their office. My confusion was not diminished, when my assiduous attendant seized my arm as we threaded the sinuosities of a back lobby, and hurried me towards the blazing lights,

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