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With sour-featured saints the Grass-market was pang'd,
As if half the west had set tryste to be hang’d;
There was spite in each face, there was fear in each e'e,
As they watch'd for the bonnet of bonnie Dundee.

Come, fill up, &c.
These cowls of Kilmarnock had spits and had spears,
And lang-hafted gullies to kill cavaliers ;
But they shrunk to close-heads, and the causeway left free,
At a toss of the bonnet of bonnie Dundee.

Come, fill up, &c.
He spurr'd to the foot of the high castle rock,
And to the gay Gordon he gallantly spoke-
“ Let Mons Meg and her marrows three vollies let flee,
For love of the bonnets of bonnie Dundee.”

Come, fill up, &c.
The Gordon has ask'd of him whither he goes-
“ Wheresoever shall guide me the spirit of Montrose ;
Your Grace in short space shall have tidings of me,
Or that low lies the bonnet of bonnie Dundee.

Come, fill up, &c.
“There are hills beyond Pentland, and streams beyond Forth,
If there's lords in the Southland, there's chiefs in the North ;
There are wild dunnie-wassels, three thousand times three,
Will cry hoigh! for the bonnet of bonnie Dundee.

Come, fill up, &c.
“ Away to the hills, to the woods, to the rocks,
Ere I own a usurper, I'll couch with the fox;
And tremble, false Whigs, though triumphant ye be,
You have not seen the last of my bonnet and me."

Come, fill up, &c.
He waved his proud arm, and the trumpets were blown,
The kettle drums clash'd, and the horsemen rode on,
Till on Ravelston-craigs and on Clermiston lee
Died away the wild war-note of bonnie Dundee.

Come, fill up my cup, come, fill up my can,
Come, saddle my horses, and call up my men;
Fling all your gates open, and let me gae free,

For 'tis up with the bonnets of bonnie Dundee.' That celebrated wit and humourist of our day, Mr. Theodore Hook, has supplied the same juvenile Souvenir with an effusion in verse, which, that our quotations may end gaily, we shall take the liberty of transcribing.

Cautionary Verses to Youth of both Sexes. My readers may know that to all the editions of Entick’s. Dictionary, commonly used in schools, there is prefixed " A Table of Words that are alike, or nearly alike, in Sound, but different in SpellVOL. XXXVII. NO, LXXIII.



ing and Signification.” It must be evident that this table is neither more nor less than an early provocation to punning ; the whole mystery of which vain art consists in the use of words, the sound and sense of which are at variance. In order, if possible, to check any disposition to punning in youth, which may be fostered by this manual, I have thrown together the following adaptation of Entick’s hints to young beginners, hoping thereby to afford a warning, and exhibit a deformity to be avoided, rather than an example to be followed ; at the same time showing the caution children should observe in using words which have more than one meaning.

My little dears, who learn to read, pray early learn to shun That very silly thing indeed which people call a pun: Read Entick's Rules, and 'twill be found how simple an offence It is, to make the selfsame sound afford a double sense. For instance, ale may make you ail, your aunt an ant may kill, You in a vale may buy a veil, and Bill may pay the bill. Or if to France your bark you steer, at Dover, it may be, A peer appears upon the pier, who, blind, still goes to sea. Thus one might say, when to a treat good friends accept our greeting, 'Tis meet that men who meet to eat should eat their meat when meeting. Brawn on the board's no bore indeed, although from boar prepared: Nor can the fowl, on which we feed, foul feeding be declared. Thus one ripe fruit may be a pear, and yet be pared again, And still be one, which seemeth rare until we do explain. It therefore should be all your aim to speak with ample care ; For who, however fond of game, would choose to swallow hair? A fat man's gait may make us smile, who has no gate to close; The farmer sitting on his stile no stylish person knows : Perfumers men of scents must be ; some Scilly men are bright; A brown man oft deep read we see, a black a wicked wight. Most wealthy men good manors have, however vulgar they; And actors still the harder slave, the oftener they play : So poets can't the baize obtain, unless their tailors choose; While grooms and coachmen, not in vain, each evening seek the Mews. The dyer, who by dying lives, a dire life maintains ; The glazier, it is known, receives his profits from his panes : By gardeners thyme is tied, 'tis true, when spring is in its prime; But time or tide won't wait for you if you are tied for time. Then now you see, my little dears, the way to make a pun; A trick which you, through coming years, should sedulously shun: The fault admits of no defence; for wheresoe'er 'tis found, You sacrifice the sound for sense; the sense is never sound. So let your words and actions too one single meaning prove, And, just in all you say or do, you'll gain esteem and love: In mirth and play no harm you'll know, when duty's task is done ; But parents ne'er should let ye go 'unpunished for a pun.'


We suppose there are few who, having read some of these extracts, will refuse to join in the question, Why, when there are in the country men able and willing to contribute such things to literary pocket-books, there is no one production of this class which it is possible to point out as distinguished throughout for its literary excellence ? Are the classics of our age to continue to see their beautiful fragments doled out year after year in the midst of such miserable and mawkish trash as fills at least nineteen pages out of every twenty in the best of the gaudy duodecimos now before us? It is admitted on every hand that there are few good painters among us, and very few good engravers; and it is admitted by all but the editors of the pretty pocket-books'* themselves, that there are not many good writers. "Why should publishers of eminence go on year after year encouraging that busy mediocrity in letters, which even the humblest of their brethren would blush to patronize in the arts? Why should not some one bookseller make the endeavour at least to combine the efforts of a few of the masters, and present us with the result, undebased by any admixture of those vulgar materials, of which the utmost that can be said is, that fine prints, and a small sprinkling of true poetry are able to carry off a certain number of copies of the books they load and deform—in spite of them?

They are running a race that their German brothers of the trade have run before them, and in which, we beg leave to inform them, more publishers have been ruined than in almost any other literary speculation of modern times. Success under the present system depends on the merest chances—coming out a week or two sooner than a rival—at best, the luck of procuring leave to engrave some particular picture, or a few scraps from the portfolios of men of letters, who take no sort of interest in the works . in which these are to be all but buried. These pocket-books are, in fact, ornamented annual magazines. Why should not the history of the monthly magazines afford sound hints as to the proper we mean, of course, the ultimately profitable method of getting them up?

There is nothing so serviceable to the public as competition; but why should all the coaches take the very same road, when there are twenty that might conduct with equal certainty, and not very dissimilar speed, to the wished-for goal ?

Why should not different publishers choose different departments, both of art and literature? Why should we not have an ornamented annual magazine of antiquities; another of natural history; a third of poetry; a fourth of biography; a fifth, perhaps,

* One of these gentlemen has given us, by way of embellishment, fac-similes of the autographs of, we think, thirty living English poets. O fortunati nimium, sua si bona norint, Anglicole!

of romance; and why, above all things, should we not have one in which the writing should refer strictly to the fine arts of this country?

We scatter these suggestions, in the hope that some one of them, at least, may be taken up and acted on.

At present, the best literary pocket-book is like a room in Somerset-house, containing here and there a fine picture, but covered in the main with daubs. It is very well to walk through the exhibition; but who would wish to give house-room to half the things he sees there, even if he could have them for nothing ?

Art. V.–Narrative of a Journey through the Upper Provinces

of India, from Calcutta to Bombay. By the late Reginald

Heber, D.D., Lord Bishop of Calcutta. 2 vols. 4to. London. OF all the foreign possessions of England, India is, we think,

the most important; assuredly, it is the most interesting. A body of our countrymen are employed there, whose zeal, talents, and accomplishments are beyond praise—a set of functionaries, civil and military, whose general deserts have not been surpassed in the history of any independent state, ancient or modern; while, to seek for any parallel example in colonial annals, would, it is admitted on all hands, be vain and ridiculous. Literature of various kinds is widely and profoundly cultivated among a large portion of these meritorious officers, during their stay in the East; and not a few of them are every year returning to spend the afternoon of life, in well-earned competence and leisure, in their own country. Under such circumstances, it is impossible not to reflect, without some wonder, that the English library is to this hour extremely poor in the department of books descriptive of the actual appearances of men and things in India; of the scenery of regions where almost every element of the beautiful and the sublime has been scattered with the broadest lavishness of nature's bounty; of cities, on the mere face of which one of the most wonderful of all human histories is written, through all its changes, in characters that he who runs may read—where the monuments of Hindoo, Moslem, and English art and magnificence may be contemplated side by side; of manners, amongst which almost every possible shape and shade of human civilization finds its representative; where we may trace our species, step by step, as in one living panorama, from the lowest depths of barbarian and pagan darkness, up to the highest refinements of European society, and the open day-light of protestant christianity. This poverty, where so much wealth might haye been expected,

is, nevertheless, easy enough to account for. The great majority of our Anglo-Indian adventurers leave their native land very early in life, and become accustomed to Indian scenery and manners before the mind is sufficiently opened and calmed for considering them duly. Ere such men begin to think of describing India, they have lost the European eyes on which its picturesque features stamp the most vivid impression. When they set about the work, they do pretty much as natives of the region might be expected to do that is, in writing for people at home, they omit, as too obvious and familiar to be worthy of special notice, exactly those circumstances which, if they could place themselves in the situation of their readers, they would find it most advantageous to dwell upon. They give us the picture, without its foreground—the scholia, without the text. The literary sin that most easily besets them is that capital error of taking for granted ; and how fatal that error is, even where materials are most copious, and talents not unworthy of such materials employed on them, may be seen by any one who reads Pandurang Hari and the Zenana,—novels which, but for this radical defect, might have been almost as interesting and popular as Hajji Baba.

When men of riper years and experience repair to these regions, they go in the discharge of important functions, which commonly confine the field of personal observation to narrow limits, and which always engross so much time, that it is no wonder they should abstain from supererogatory labour of any sort.

Those who under such circumstances have been led by extraordinary elasticity of mind to steal time for general literature from the hours of needful repose, have, in most instances, paid dearly for their generous zeal. Very few of those distinguished victims, however, have bestowed any considerable portion of

their energies on the

particular department which we have been alluding to. The history and antiquities of Indian mythology, legislation, and philosophy have appeared worthier of such high-aimed ambition; and he who once plunges fairly into that mare magnum of romantic mystery, is little likely to revisit, with all his vigour about him, the clearer, and, perhaps, with all reverence be it said, the more useful stream of week-day observation and living custom. It would be below the dignity of these learned moonshees and pundits to quit their Sanscrit and Persic lore, for the purpose of enlightening ignorant occidentals in regard to the actual cities and manners of Eastern men.

There is a circumstance of another kind, which it would be absurd to overlook. The intercourse which takes place between distinguished English functionaries in the military and civil service of the Company and the upper classes of the natives, is and must


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