in their crowd, and to elbow amongst the throng, making my way from the highest society to the lowest, undergoing the scorn, or what is harder to brook, the patronizing condescension of the one, and enduring the vulgar familiarity of the other,and all, you will say, for what?-to collect materials for one of those manuscripts with which mere chance so often accommodates your countrymen ; in other words, to write a successful novel.“ O, Athenians, how hard to labour to deserve your praise !"

I might stop here, my dear Clutterbuck; it would have a touching effect, and the air of proper deference to our dear public. But I will not be false with you,-(though falsehood is-excuse the observation-the current coin of your country) the truth is, I have studied and lived for the purpose of gratifying my own curiosity, and passing away my own time; and, though the result has been, that, in one shape or other, I have been frequently before the public, perhaps more frequently than prudence warranted, yet I cannot claim from them the favour due to those who have dedicated their ease and leisure to the improvement and entertainment of others.

Having communicated thus freely with you, my dear Captain, it follows, of course, that I will gratefully accept of your communication, which, as your Benedictine observed, divides itself both by subject, manner, and age, into two parts. But I am sorry I cannot gratify your literary ambition, by suffering your name to appear upon the titlepage; and I will candidly tell you the reason.

The Editors of your country are of such a soft and passive disposition, that they have frequently

done themselves great disgrace by giving up the coadjutors who first brought them into public notice and public favour, and suffering their names to be used by those quacks and impostors who live upon the ideas of others. Thus I shame to tell how the sage Cid Hamet Benengeli was induced by one Juan Avellaneda to play the Turk with the ingenious Miguel Cervantes, and to publish a second part of the adventures of his hero the renowned Don Quixote, without the knowledge or co-operation of his principal aforesaid. It is true, the Arabian sage returned to his allegiance, and thereafter composed a genuine continuation of the Knight of La Mancha, in which the said Avellaneda of Tordesillas is severely chastised. For in this you pseudo-editors resemble the juggler's disciplined ape, to which a sly old Scotchman likened James I., "if you have Jackoo in your hand, you can make him bite me; if I have Jackoo in my hand, I can make him bite you." Yet, notwithstanding the amende honorable thus made by Cid Hamet Benengeli, his temporary defection did not the less occasion the decease of the ingenious Hidalgo Don Quixote, if he can be said to die, whose memory is immortal. Cervantes put him to death, lest he should again fall into bad hands. Awful, yet just consequence of Cid Hamet's defection!

To quote a more modern and much less important instance. I am sorry to observe my old acquaintance Jedediah Cleishbotham has misbehaved himself so far as to desert his original patron, and set up for himself. I am afraid the poor pedagogue will take little by his new allies, unless the pleasure of entertaining the public, and, for aught I know, the gentlemen of the long robe,

with disputes about his identity.* Observe, therefore, Captain Clutterbuck, that, wise by these great examples, I receive you as a partner, but a sleeping partner only. As I give you no title to employ or use the firm of the copartnery we are about to form, I will announce my property in my title-page, and put my own mark on my own chattels, which the attorney tells me will be a erime to counterfeit, as much as it would to imitate the autograph of any other empiric-a crime amounting, as advertisements upon little vials assure us, to nothing short of felony. If, therefore, my dear friend, your name should hereafter appear in any title-page without mine, readers will know what to think of you. I scorn to use either arguments or threats; but you cannot but be sensible, that, as you owe your literary existence to me on the one hand, so, on the other, your very all is at my disposal. I can at pleasure cut off your annuity, strike your name from the half pay establishment, nay actually put you to death, without being answerable to any one. These are plain words to a gentleman who has served through the whole war; but, I am aware, you will take nothing amiss at my hands.

And now, my good sir, let us address ourselves to our task, and arrange as we best can the manu

*I am since more correctly informed, that Mr. Cleishbotham died some months since at Gandercleugh, and that the person assuming his name is an impostor. The real Jedediah made a most christian and edifying end: and, as 1 am credibly informed, having sent for a Cameronian clergyman when he was in extremis, was so fortunate as to convince the good man, that, after all, he had no wish to bring down on the scattered remnant of Mountain folks, "the bonnets of Bonny Dundee." Hard that the speculators in print and paper will not allow a good man to rest quiet in his grave!!!

script of your Benedictine, so as to suit the taste of this critical age. You will find I have made very liberal use of his permission, to alter whatever seemed too favourable to the Church of Rome, which I abominate, were it but for her fasts and penance.

Our reader is doubtless impatient, and we must own, with John Bunyan,

We have too long detained him in the porch,

And kept him from the sunshine with a torch.

Adieu, therefore, my dear Captain-remember me respectfully to the parson, the schoolmaster, and the baillie, and all friends of the happy club in the village of Kennaquhair. I have never seen, and never will see, one of their faces; and notwithstanding, I believe that as yet I am better acquainted with them than any man who lives.-I will soon introduce you to my jocund friend Mr. John Ballantyne of Trinity Grove, whom you will find warm from his match at single-stick with a brother publisher. Peace to their differences! It is a wrathful trade, and the irritable genus comprehends the book-selling as well as the book-writing species.-Once more adieu!

THE AUTHOR OF WAVERLEY.

THE

MONASTERY.

CHAPTER 1.

O ay! the Monks, the Monks, they did the mischief,
Theirs all the grossness, all the superstition

Of a most gross and superstitious age

May HE be praised that sent the healthful tempest,
And scattered all these pestilential vapours!

But that we owed them all to yonder Harlot
Throned on the seven hills with her cup of gold,

I will as soon believe, with kind Sir Roger,

That old Moll White took wing with cat and broomstick,
And raised the last night's thunder.

Old Play.

THE village described in the Benedictine's manuscript by the name of Kennaquhair, bears the same Geltic termination which occurs in Traquhair, Caquhair, and other compounds. The learned Chalmers derives this word Quhair, from the winding course of the stream; a definition which coincides in a remarkable degree with the serpentine turns of the river Tweed near the village of which we speak. It has been long famous for the splendid Monastery of Saint Mary, founded by David the First of Scotland, in whose reign and in the same county were formed the no less splendid establishments of Melrose, Jedburgh, and Kelso. The donations of land with which the King endowed these wealthy fraternities procured him from the Monkish historians