1820.

In case you should be in want of a few of Wastle's verses, I send you a frage ment of one of his cantos, which I found in his drawer this morning, but the beginning of it is a-wanting, having been torn off. I heard him read it all over, but I remember nothing of the

exordium, except that it was awfully severe upon poor Mr Terrot. That young lad is very rash, and knows nothing whatever of what he is meddling with, but

you should

spare

him for this time. There was also a dedication to Tickler, which went on thus :

'Oh, Timothy! we true old Bachelors
Should dedicate our strains to one another :
What though our doings all the world abhors,
Especially the womankind--my brother,
While this bright flame up one's own chimney roars,
Why should we all our satisfaction smother-

Nor shew what mints of unpartaken pride
Grace lone Glenwastle and serene Southside ?

I hear with much regret this rife report,
That Hogg's about to be a married man
I fear the change will spoil a world of sport;

Half-banishing the Bard from our divan,” &c.
I cannot recollect the rest of it, but as usual, I was treated with slender cere.
mony. He has been, as I have hinted, abusing poor Common-place Terrot,"
as he calls him,--and then off he goes with

this beginning of the fragment.
Some verses, you will observe, are quite illegible in this sad scrawl of the old
man,
XII.

XIX.
Oh! for some Schmidt, * that trumpet note to blow A genuine German Freyherr, or Herr Graf,

That stirs the blood, if any blood there bem. With cheek of bronze and strong thick swart
Ascending clearly with that silver flow

moustache,
Melodiously, magnificently free;

Such as one saw about old Blucher's staff,
Kindling the air above, and earth below,

All over cross, and star, and grin, and gash,
With one resistless flame of harmony;

Is worth some staring--but it makes one laugh
High above pealing choir and echoing ring

To see Miss Molly, with a sabretache,
Ascending, like the mandate of a king.

Coaxing a few soft hairs below the nose,

In hopes of seeming fearful to our foes.
XIII.
Oh! for some trumpet of triumphant call

XX.
To bring some knightly foe for knightly sporting! To see him laced like some fine velvet cushion,
For you, ye caitiff crew, we scorn you all,

Ope universal glare of tinsel glorious,
There is a sort of shame, 'faith, in consorting, To see him through the jar of jarvies pushing,
Even at the weapon-point, with the base thrallo In Stanhope slim, with caution meritorious.

of mean Plebeian passion-Yet if, courting Ah me! how different from the headlong rushing
Your ruin, come ye will-we would not choose Of charioteering Ajax, é IIshwosos,
Such spoils as you ean yield-but sha'n't refuse, -Or Dr Morris wheeling, (honest man!)

By wild Lochawe, yon furious shandrydan
XV.

XXI.
"Tis now an age six months, as one may say,

There's few Hussars or Lancers in the land,
Since we have had a dab at any body,

Bearded or beardless-booted, red or blue,
But longer this same quiet game won't pay

Or black, or yellow-that can understand.
Nod goes the general occiput nod-noddy

Better than we ourselves were wont to do, "Tis time some other dog shoulil have his day,

The merits of flirtation under hand
And keep good people waking o'er their toddy;

Intense flirtation serious, deep, and true,
Some dozing, dull, dogmatic man of merit,

In dim retired Boudoir, or twilight shade
For instance, the immortal-Mr Terrot.

Of whispering leaves, with matron or with maid. #

XXII.
XVII.

But as for the flirtation of our vapouring
And, oh! to think of all the feasts we've had

Fantastic exquisites, 'tis not the thing
Upon the like, ere now, at old Ambrose's, Whoever sees them with their waists so tapering,
When Hogg's kind eye would glitter, grim and mad And padded breasts, and feels the scents they fling
With joy, at prospect of some glorious dosis;

From out their laboured curls, amidst their caper-
When gentle Tickler would exclaim-" Too bad ! ing,
Be satisfied, my dears, with bleeding noses."-

And hears the silliness they sigh and sing.
But we would still pay on, on hide and hip, Must fear they are as far removed from thinking
Th' unconscionable usury of whip.

Of serious loving, as of serious drinking.
XVIII.

XXIII.
The dawdling damsel gliding in her coach,

Ill may romance accord with modern garb-
The dapper dandy stuffed in his sedan

One feels in gazing on their stiff attire,
Alas! how never may their dreams approach Such webs and nets of finery must absorb
The mirth that wraps our mystical divan.

All effluence of the soul-fear-hope- desire
Fine folks! we would not for the world encroach Even lordly passion, like a harnessed barb,
Upon your beat : be happy, if ye can;

Will soon, so hampered, lose his pristine fire,
For us, we think ye all a set of spoons,

And learn, instead of all his fine free paces,
We're disappointed even in these Dragoons. A few set pawinga and Cheapside grimaces.

*

*

* Who that was at our last musical festival can have forgotten Mr Schmidt:

pore his

XXIV.

Yet now, that I'm a rich old battered beau,
One scarce could picture Mars and Aphrodite Observe but how they court me-damn their po-
Under the semblance of yon gaudy cornet,

ther
Simpering to yon slim goddess of our city; Day after day, and night succeeding night,

Old Homer, were he here-how he would scorn it! Their hooks are baited well--but will I bite?
The pair are very fond (the more's the pity),
But, Lord! when eyes are eyes, what need of

XXXIII.
Lorgnette?

No not for worlds; as some old crafty trout, No one can't think the blacksmith had been jealous At leisure fattening in his deep clear pool, of any of these prig-my-dainty fellows.

When some green angler flogs his fly about,

Observes the bright deceit all calm and cool,
XXV.

And never dreams of stretching forth his snout,
But if you wish to see a real beau,*

Like your young gaping gormandizing fool; As fine as all the 7th and 10th together,

So l-in short, since I've been Laird of Wastle,
Grand, an yet wearing all his grandeur so,

My heart is an unconquerable castle.
As if its weight were not a pigeon's feather.
I prythee, gentle female reader, go,

XXXIV.
(For scarce he'll venture out in this cold weather) The pride they wounded then protects me now
And at Macculloch's window, you shall see

And if it did not were not I a dunce? A man will shew you what a man should be

When madam curtsies low, more low I bow,

And twice I simper, if miss simpers once;
XXVI.

I'm trebly lined about both breast and brow
In native bearded beauty-what a sweep

I've still some smooth brass buckler for the nonce,
Of fringe and fold is all about him flowing ! My spectacles spy finely what folks aim at,
How graceful sits his cincture, yet how deep, And-in descrto vox clamantis clamat.

Round, round, and round again, superbly going ;
Does it not make your young hearts pant and leap,

XXXV.
To gaze on Hassan's dirk-how rich 'tis glowing Grant me, I pray you, grant me a reprieve,
With sapphire, diamond, emerald, topaz, ruhy! Dear loving ladies, pity an old man,
He makes your homebred coxcomb look a shoeboy. And give him for sweet charity, your leave

To dwindle out his unmolested span
XXVI.

In his own way--to smoke his pipe at eve

In quiet o'er his solitary cann, I'm sorry his Circassian has returned

To

eyes out if he has a mind, For love or money I would fain have seen her; Ah! how to gaze and gaze, mine eyes had burned,

And creep to bed just when he feels inclined. Were she, in aught of feature or demeanour,

XXXVI. Like yon sweet thing, whose tears are all inurned

It is not orthodox that creed of yours, In the world's heart-whose glance of loveis keener

That, without woman, comfort there is none. Than all the lightnings e'er Prometheus stole

I don't deny your company has lures Yon visioned queen of Allan's musing soul,

For most-the sweetest lures beneath the sun;

But time for all things is the best of cures,
XXVIII.

And habit, now (my course so nearly run)
Triumphant captive! oh! 'tis worse than slaughter I promise you has reconciled me quite

To see the paltry price the Turk has told: To be alone by day, still more by night.
With what wide treasures would not I have bought
her,

XXXVII.
Of heart-soul-tears-blood--anything but gold! Besides, I want the courage (grant the wish
If Eve was half as fair as this her daughter,
Oh! Father Adam -pardons manifold

Were present) for so perilous a change;

I know you'd hate my modes of dressing fish; For all thy weakness-her ambrosial breath

The whole of my small culinary range Might well persuade to sin, though sin were death.

Would shock you-you would scout each favourite

dish, XXIX.

And give for sheepsheads rotis a Volainge ;
And yet ’tis not her beauty, first or most,

You would insist on putting in green tea,
That penetrates the eye of him who gazes, In short, my love, we never should agree.
Of all the times my heart's been won and lost
(On recollection their amount amazes),

XXXVIII.
I could be sworn mere beauty never cost
Me much in phrenzy-no, nor even in phrases

For novelties you'd be a constant plotter.
With utter non-chalance my heart repels

You would abuse my old French elbow-chairs,
The proud set-to of dozens of crack belles.

You would compel me thro'the house to totter-
Those long cold lobbies, and those steep high

stairs
XXX.

To hear your notions, (you'd have talk'd with There is a certain haughty conscious swim

Trotter)t O'th' eye, an artful dropping of the lid,

About some Gothic or Chinese repairs; Which says, I'll easily make an end of him,

You'd pull my own coeval damasks down,
Or looks ('tis all the same) as if it did;

And run up bills, you minx, for chintz from town.
For me, I'm full of self-will to the brim,
I never fancy doing as I'm bid ;

XXXIX.
I sometimes stare as if I were struck dumb,
But that's pure malice-fudge—the merest hum.

Nay, who knows but you might dislike my friends,

And stare them by your coldness from my door?

Give great Pulltuski o'er the fingers' ends ?
XXXI.

Or dare to pun, and call my Hogg a boar?
Impute it not to vanity that I

And then to make deserted ME amends, Should think such engines have been moved or

Bring in your fine strange faces by the score, me;

“ Captains and colonels, and knights in arms," I ne'er suspect that gentle damsels sigh

With stars, and other fashionable charms ?
For Wastle's self-whatever smiles I see
To all such fair
fond dreams I've bid good-bye,

XL
They do not fit a quizz of sixty-three.

“CHILDREN!!!"—the word's enough!-depend When I was young they scorned me being poor,

upon't I can't be gulled in age, though flattered more.

'Twill never do; there's lots of marrying men.

The deuce a fear, if patiently you hunt,
XXXII.

You'll meet with chances every now and then.
I was but the laird's brother long ago,

But as for me, my Bramah's very blunt, And all did treat me as a younger brother ;

Yet, ere I stop, I tell you once agen,
Full well the frigid curtsey did I know

I'm quite determined to continue single
Of each disdainful miss and mighty mother; So, there's enough for once of Timon's jingle.

* They seem to have been written when the Persian Ambassador was in Edinburgh.
+ The fashionable Upholsterer of the North.

You will see from this, that the Laird is not going to be married any more
than the Shepherd. We still sing in chorus (Tickler, Wastle, and I), every
evening, our old song.
WHEN shrovetide falls in Easter week,

When usury's never paid to Jews;
And Christmas sees the swallow's wing:

And noses are not stained by brandy;
When Lawyers nought but truth will speak, And Pussy barks and Messin mews;
And Whigs in private toast the king:

And itch is cured by sugar-candy:
When songs and plays are quite put down,

When maids on sweethearts never dream;
And sermons by all men preferred;

And birds' nests can no more be harried ;
And indigo dies breeches brown-

And oysters float in waves of cream-
Oh! then my love and I'll be married.

Oh ! then-oh! then we will be married.
I wish, from my soul, you were here, to join your fine bass in the stave, and
to taste the best hock ever the Laird had in his cellar, of which he gives us a
long-necked bottle or two every day. You never licked your lips over the like.
He got it from Mr Thomas Hamilton, the famous Glasgow wine-merchant, by
way of particular favour, and he says it is more than a hundred years old.
There never was the match of it on Yarrow before. Grieve and Laidlaw
were pretty well when I heard from them.-Ever your affectionate Contributor,

JAMES Hogg,

ANNALS OF PETERHEAD.*

I was

us,

We love Peterhead. We recollect « I have also laboured under other dif. passing a few days there very plea- ficulties than those above stated, which I santly a good many years ago, and ina have studied to surmount; and many of the deed shall never forget the surpassing pieces contained in these pages, are not ardinners that we enjoyed at its incom ranged according to the plan I had in view,

having collected much of the information at parable ordinary. Every place within different periods after I had begun printing. fifty miles of Aberdeen is pleasant to Having none who could assist me,

for the sake of that double-bodied obliged to be author, caseman, pressman, town, and the cunning, yet kindly &c.; and many of the following pages never toned pronunciation of its inhabitants. were in MS. being actually composed while We beg leave, therefore, to return our printing them. It is therefore hoped, those best thanks to Mr Buchan for his pre experience, will not be blind to the trouble

whose judgment is matured by reason and sentation copy of the “ Annals;" to assure him of corned-beef and greens,

of such an undertaking, under so unpropi

tious circumstances, and will allow, that and a jug of toddy, at Ambrose's, on imperfectly as the subjects are handled, I de. his first visit to the city of Blackwood's serve the clemency of an impartial public. Magazine.

But, if they have otherways determined, I Mr Buchan has really made a very

shall console myself with the following lines, amusing book of it; and there are written originally in French by the king of

Prussia." some circumstances attending his little publication, which we think must in-, As we are not now reviewing the terest in his favour all good-natured, works of the king of Prussia, we omit statistical, and antiquarian readers. his majesty's verses, and turn to Mr These are very modestly mentioned in Buchan's prose. We shall not insult his preface. He has not had the be our readers by telling them where Pee nefit of much education--and he is not terhead stands. rích in this world's gear. Besides-but • Peterhead is a clean and neat little let our worthy annalist speak for him-, town ;--the streets are open, straight, and self.

in general clean and dry, and give a free

Annals of Peterhead, from its Foundation to the present Time ; including an Ac. count of the Rise, Progress, Improvements, Shipping, Manufactures, Commerce, Trade, Wells, Baths, &c. of the Town: Also, a Sketch of the Character of the Inhabitants, their Civil and Ecclesiastical State: An Excursion to the Bullers of Buchan, Slains Castle, &c. with their Description---the Scenery of the country round-Remarks op Dr John, son's Tour to the Hebrides, &c. : Biographical Notices of men of learning and genius, among whom are, George Earl Marischal, founder of Peterhead, and Marischal College, Aberdeen ; with a number of Curious Articles hitherto unpublished ; with Plates, Engraved by the Author; by P. Buchan, author of the Recreation of Leisure Hours, &c, Peterhead, Printed at the Auchwedden-press, by the Author : Sold by him, the Book sellers in Peterhead, and the principal Booksellers in Scotland. 1819.

picture of Mary Queen of Scots, and sionate Pilgrim; and the other two are standing right before it and all that not written by Shakspeare at all. The we can do, she will not go away. one beginning “ Come live with me,

We do not know that any other part &c.” is part of Kit Marlow's Milk of this tragedy requires notice, unless Maid's Song; and the other—" As it it be Mr č. Kemble in the gallant- fell upon a day, &c.”—is part of a we will not call him the unfortunate delightful little lyric by an obscure Mortimer; who perishes in endea- poet of Elizabeth's time, named Richard vouring to rescue Mary from her ene Barnfield. We whisper these things mies. It was a delightful sketch in the manager's ears-for every body breathing the buoyant spirit of youth else knows them. These same persons, and chivalry combined. This gentle. too, have tried to make improvements man's noble person and air are the in the language in which Shakspeare only things left on the stage that are has thought proper to dress his poetry; worth looking at in this way, except which is as if a country clown, with Miss Foote--and her beauty has evi- his hard, horny, plough-holding findently made so much impression upon gers, should attempt to improve the herself, that other people feel nearly arrangements of a woman of fashion's absolved from its power.

toilet. The Comedy of Errors. We had nearly forgotten to mention, SHAKSPEARE's Comedy of Errors that the music which is introduced has been revived at this theatre. For into this comedy has these remarkable what reason, it is difficult to divine, circumstances about it—that it is partunless it be that the managers think ly original by Mr Bishop, and partly this the most valuable of those of selected by Mr Bishop, and yet it is Shakspeare's works which are laid on all selected, and all by Mr Bishop. the shelf—which is not unlikely,—for The explanation of the riddle is this it is without exception the least va- that that which is not original is seluable.--The revival, however, has lected by Mr Bishop, and that which been quite successful, on account of is original and by Mr Bishop, is sesome very pretty music being intro- lected by Mr Bishop also.--But it is duced into it, set to some of Shak- very pretty and appropriate neverspeare's songs and some other verses, theless. and sung in a spirit of the most delight

Mr Macready. ful and friendly rivalry by Miss Ste Since our last notice, Mr Macready phens and Miss M. Tree. Miss Tree has gained a sudden and unexpected is really an exquisite singer. She increase of popularity, by his perforo improves upon us every time we hear mance of Richard III. and Coriolanus. her; and is only second to Miss Ste- At the close of both these tragedies, it is phens. These two ladies sang “ Tell the fashion to hail him with shouts of me where is fancy bred ?" in a most applause, waving of hats, &c., and calls delicious style, flowing with milk for him to come forward and give out and honey."

the play, after he is “ dead in law.”The managers are very clamorous We have been prevented from seeing about the success of this their experi- any more than the last act of his ment of introducing examples of Shak- Richard III.—for it has not been acted speare's !! Sonnets” to the stage. If for several weeks. The most striking those poems wait till these gentlemen part of this is the manner in which, discover their beauties, and marry after having received his death-blow, them to music, they will “live and die he retires to the side-scene, and then, in single blessedness.” In truth they with a super-human energy, lifts himare innocent of knowing any thing self to more than his natural height, about such trifling matters. They and comes pouring down upon his adthink that because a sonnet is a short versary till he reaches him, and then poem a short poem is a sonnet. We falls at his feet like a spent thunderassure them that this is not the case; bolt.—This is extremely fine. If this and moreover add, for their edification, performance should be repeated, we that not a line of any thing they have shall make a point of recurring to itintroduced into the Comedy of Errors for the little we did see of it, raised is to be found in Shakspeare's Sonnets. our expectations of the rest very high, Two of the four examples which they Mr Macready's Coriolanus, if it b refer to the sonnets are from the Paso not raised our general opinie

thought to make Harlequin's vand her nature, by fine vikings resigning take the place of the knight's beated the enthusiastic itulatry a whole those changes which he only fancien amb fue empany of her own bapps giant-the flock of sheep into 2 CULL- true desting-fu she was made to be

pany of soldiers, &e. In the island annota or an lungna, bas nich

more

talents, has not lowered it. There not carried away by those rbo bring

very were two very fine things in it;-his it in, but disappears by the said of reply to the tribunes of the people Harlequin's magic. — The scenery of when they decree his banishment.- this Pantomime is extremely beautiful, “ I banish you!" and his quarrel and consists chiefly of natural views with Aufidius in the last scene, where of the country in which the scene he reiterates the word “boy!” We is laid. have seldom witnessed any thing more The Pantomime at Drury-Lane is nobly dignified than his manner of indifferent. It commences with the giving the first of these speeches; and nursery story of Jack the Giant Kila

d the last was highly energetic, power. ler—but it soon deserts that, and runs ful, and natural: but it must be ad- into the usual Steeple-race. The mitted that they both wanted the scenery, too, is equally common-place; merit of originality. This first was a and the drollery (such as it is) consists fac-simile of Mr Kemble's voice and of practical puns, which one half of manner in the same part. So much the audience cannot relish, and the só, indeed, that the resemblance other half (for whom chiefly the Panactually startled us. The latter part tomime is produced) cannot underof the last scene was performed exact. stand. It is really a little too bad, ly in the manner of Mr Kean. We that these enormous houses, which do not say in the manner that he will are fitted only for the representation of perform it,—for he is an actor that Spectacle, should give us so few tole baffles all anticipation.—In saying rable examples even of that. that we have not seen any thing in

Miss O Neil. the late performances of Mr Macready And so we are never again to see which has raised our opinion of his Miss O'Neill never again to watch her talents, nothing can be farther from our eyes, those“ fountains of sweet intention than to detract from the tears," till we forget ourselves and all reputation which he now enjoys and the world! Never again to listen to deserves. The only point in which we her voice, till we become enamoured differ from the public on the subject of “ dainty sweet melancholy !" Never is, that we think the popularity which again to-Bat we are getting foolhe enjoys now, he deserved to enjoy ish, and, indeed, impertinent for this before. 'Undoubtedly he is the second lady is no longer a subject for publie actor on the English stage, but it is notice.- We now take leare of her for equally certain that he is at a very ever-conyineed that the stage will

great distance from the first: as far as never see her like again, as it never did talents are from genius.

The Pantomimes. The Covent Garden Pantomime, natural course of things, have kept this year

is better than usual, because her from pubácity. It is difficult to it is less extravagant and unnatural: eoncave what train of circumstances For nature should be respected to a sveld have made an actress of such a certain degree, even in that least na- woman: And we cannot belp feeling tural of all things-2 Harleqmnade a secret compensation for the loss of This story consists of a selection from her, in the selection, that she has the adventures of Don Quixote, and may now nowned and completed the Sancha Panza;, and is a happy ewiceptions we had always formed of

ng ind the It a ing the neir ent be

before. The very qualities which
made na what she was, would, in the

ple

imagination, and bring about in reality people for the guies com arts of horne, Thus the windinill is changed into a thoughts, ste vil s fuis het

of Baratrašia, tos, Szachi's dinner s ture the

d

d in. dir,