certain heaviness, which the former, taken hastily during its effervescence, is thought calculated to remove: thus the mind, after deep potations from the far-bin of wisdom, is too apt to feel a degree of dullness, which my philanthropy has hoped in some measure to dispel. If the antidote be taken as intended, it may probably answer the desired end; but let critics be assured that, if they stop to criticise, its spirit will evaporate during the operation, and the draught will prove like flat soda water, stale, lifeless, and unpalatable.

PSEUDO-SUBLIMITY.

EXHIBITED IN A SERIES OF ODES BY TOM MEGGOTT

No. 5.-TO INK.

I.

Curse on thee, nauseous Ink!

Whose draught the taste offends
Sooner than vinegar or sourest drink :
By whom our finger ends

And youthful tongue, receive a sable huc-
In simpler talk, are render'd black and blue.

II.

Thou second deluge, that o'erwhelm'st the mind,
Worse than the watʼry one of ancient birth,
I often wonder how the earth

Could be distress'd again,

Wort thou confined,

Never to sport with poetising pen,

Or prosifying men.

III.

Villain beyond control!

Thou dost instil

False names into a will:

Well does thy sable garb become thy soul!

Foul marrer of the schoolboy's book!
With reverence on his name we look,
Who rendered thee invisible:
By whose enchanting skill,

Though struggling and against thy will,
Thou'rt blotted from the page of life
A vanquish'd favourer of human strife!

*I am aware that those men usually denominated philosophers, would consider Ink the means, and not the cause. What then is the cause? Desire of imitation. Whence arising? From love of gain. How created? By seeing the value attached to bits of paper called Bank Bills, Notes, &c. Whence is this value (real or imaginary) acquired? From about a dozen characters in the right hand lower corner, very illegibly described, by some great man in Ink.-Q.E.D.

T. M.

Enteger Vitæ, &c.

Translated.

My voice is ragged;-I know I cannot please you.

AS YOU LIKE IT.-ACT 2, Sc. 5.

I.

The man, my friend, whose stedfast heart

Still to the right is sure,

Needs not the Arab's venom'd dart,

-Though weaponless secure.

II.

Alike to him the desert sands

And Andes bleakest snows,
Or the rude savage-peopled lands,
Where sullen Niger flows.

III.

For heedless once too far I stray'd,

And sang Eliza's charms,—

-The wild wolf saw,-abash'd he fled

From innocence, not arms.

ERRATA.

Page 175, line 22, for book read brook.

Page 183, line 11, for salpula read scalpel.

Mr. Jaques' compliments to those who called his printer a blockhead :-begs to inform them that this latter error was the consequence of his own sheer ignorance.

Editor.

I regret that "S" should have selected such a die away subject as "Early Affection," for a prose article ;-for although it is well enough written, at such a time, and in such a place as this, where people are too busy buying logwood and pearking-(I think that is the word)—cloth, to get above shoe tops in love matters, he would only-(malgré his designating his reader " a Mill Horse" for such common-place criticism)-be laughed at.

To "a Son of other times," I can only say, that although no doubt "other times" would be very proud of such a sonhe is not at all calculated for these. If his parents are as dry and as quaint as he, I am most happy that I am no relation to them, but was created in a more modern æra.

I am sorry that "R. S." should not have been happy in his choice of style on this occasion. His production has much merit, but is, upon the whole, inadmissible. It will give me much pleasure to hear from him again.