What others view as slight misfortunes, affect him deeply; and in the event of any such happening to himself, or those that are dear to him, he will groan from his inmost soul, perhaps for a whole night after it first comes to his knowledge, and occasionally, for many days afterwards, as the idea recurs to him. Indeed, he never wants something to make him miserable; for, on being made acquainted with any favourable turn of fortune, the only mark of joy that it produces is an involuntary motion of the one hand to scratch the other elbow; and his fancy almost instantaneously presents to him such a number of difficulties, dangers, and bad consequences attending it, that though I have often hoped to awake him to joy by my tidings, I always left him more miserable than I found him.

I have another acquaintance whom we generally denominate the knight, who falls upon a method totally different to overcome misfortunes. In the event of any cross accident, or vexatious circumstance, happening to him, he makes straight towards his easy chair-sits calmly down upon it clenches his right hand, with the exception of his fore-finger, which is suffered to continue straightstrikes his fist violently against his left shoulder-keeps it in that position, with his eyes fixed on one particular point, till he has cursed the event and all connected with it most heartily, then, with a countenance of perfect good humour, indulges in a pleasant laugh, and if it is possible to draw a comical or ridiculous inference from the whole, or any part of the affair, he is sure to do it, that the laugh may be kept up. If he fails in effecting this, he again resumes his former posture, and consigns all connected with the vexatious circumstance to the devil; then takes another good hearty laugh, and in a few minutes the affair is no more heard or thought of.

John Leggat is a lad about fifteen, a character of great curiosity, whom nature seems to have formed in one of her whims. He is not an idiot, for he can perform all the drudgery about his master's house, herd the cows, and run errands too; provided there be no dead horses on the

road, or any thing extremely ugly, in which case the time of his return is very uncertain. Among other singularities in his character, the way that misfortunes affect him is not the least striking. He once became warmly attached to a young hound, that was likewise very fond of him, paying him all the grateful respect so peculiar to that faithful animal. John loved him above all earthly things some even thought that he loved him better than his own flesh and blood. The hound one day came to an untimely end. John never got such sport in his life; he was convulsed with laughter when he contemplated the features of his dead friend. When about his ordinary. business, he was extremely melancholy; but whenever he came and looked at the carcass, he was transported with delight, and expressed it by the most extravagant raptures.

He next attached himself to a turkey-cock, whom he trained to come at his call, and pursue and attack such people as he ordered. John was very fond of this amusement; but it proved fatal to his favourite an irritated passenger knocked him dead at a stroke. This proved another source of unbounded merriment to John; the stiff half spread wing, the one leg stretched forward, and the other back, were infinitely amusing; but the abrupt crook in his neck-his turned-up eye and open bill, were quite irresistible-John laughed at them till he was weak. Few ever loved their friends better than John did while they were alive-no man was ever so much delighted with them after they were dead.

But out of every twenty worldly misfortunes, nineteen occur in consequence of our own imprudence. This position I hold as good as established. Many will tell you, it was owing to such and such a friend's imprudence that they sustained all their losses. No such thing. Whose imprudence or want of foresight was it that trusted such a friend, and put it in his power to ruin them, and reduce the families that depended on them for support, from a state of af-. fluence to one of penury and bitter regret? If the above position is admitted, then there is but one right

and proper way in which misfortunes ought to affect us; namely, by stirring us up to greater circumspection and perseverance. Perseverance is a noble and inestimable virtue! There is scarcely any difficulty or danger that it will not surmount. Whoever observes a man bearing up under worldly misfortunes, with undaunted resolution, will rarely fail to see that man ultimately successful. And it may be depended on, that circumspection in business is a quality so absolutely necessary, that without it the success of any one will only be equivocal.

The present laird of J-s-y, better known by the appellation of old Sandy Singlebeard, was once a common hired shepherd, but he be came master of the virtues above recommended, for he had picked them up in the severe school of misfortune. I have heard him relate the circumstances myself, oftener than once. "My father had bought me a flock of sheep," said he, " and fitted me out as a shepherd; and from the profits of these, I had plenty of money to spend, and lay out on good clothes, so that I was accounted a thriving lad, and rather a dashing blade among the lasses. Chancing to change my master at a term, I sold my sheep to the man who came in my place, and bought those of the shepherd that went from the flock to which I was engaged. But when the day of payment came, the man could not pay me my sheep, and without that money, I had not wherewith to pay mine own. He put me off from week to week, until the matter grew quite distressing; for, as the price of shepherd's stock goes straight onward from one hand to another, probably twenty, or perhaps forty people, were all kept out of their right by this backwardness of my debtor. I craved him for the money every two or three days, grumbled, and threatened a prosecution, till at last my own stock was poinded by dint of law. I thought myself shamed and disgraced beyond all repair, and exerting what little credit I had, I borrowed as much as relieved my stock; but I never could get the payment of my own, only getting myself deeper and deeper into law expences to no purpose.

Many a day it kept me bare and busy before I could clear my feet, and make myself as free and independent as I was before. This was the beginning of my misfortunes, but it was but the beginning; year after year I lost and lost, until my little all was as good as three times sold off at the ground; and at last I was so reduced, that I could not say the shirt on my back was my own.

This will never do,' thought I; they shall crack well that persuade me to sell at random again.' Accordingly, I took good care of all my sales that came to any amount. My rule was, to sell my little things, such as wool, lambs, and fat sheep, worth the money; and not to part with them till I got the price in my hand. This plan I never rued; and people finding how the case stood, I had always plenty of merchants; so that I would recommend it to every man who depends on business such as mine for procuring the means of living. What does it signify to sell your stock at a great price, merely for a boast, if you never get the money for it? It will be long ere that make any one rich or independent. This did all very well, but still I found, on looking over my accounts at the end of the year, that there were a great many items in which I was regularly taken in. shoemaker charged me half-a-crown more for every pair of shoes than I could have bought them for in a market for ready money: the smith, threepence more for shoeing them. My haberdasher's and tailor's accounts were scandalous. In shirts, stockings, knives, razors, and even in shirt-neck buttons, I found myself taken in to a certain amount. But I was never so astonished, as to find out, by the plain rules of addition and subtraction, assisted now and then by the best of all practical rules-(I mean the one that says,

My

if such a thing will bring such a thing, what will such and such a number bring?')-to find, I say, that the losses and profits in small things actually come to more at the long-run, than any casual great slump loss or profit, that usually chances to a man in the course of business. Wo to the man who is

not aware of this! He is labouring for that which profiteth him not. At length I saved as much as stockthe farm of Windlestrae-knowe. That proved a fair bargain; so when the lease was out, I took Doddysdamms in with it; and now I am, as you see me, the laird of J-s-y, and farmer of both these besides. My success has been wholly owing to this:-misfortune made me cautious-caution taught me a lesson which is not obvious to every one, namely, the mighty importance of the two right-hand columns in addition. The two left-hand ones, those of pounds and shillings, every one knows the value of. With a man of any common abilities, those will take care of themselves; but he that neglects the pence and farthings is a dishclout!"

Any one who reads this will set down old Singlebeard as a miser; but I scarcely know a man less deserving the character. If one is present to hear him settling an account with another, he cannot help thinking him niggardly, owing to his extraordinary avidity in small matters; but there is no man whom customers like better to deal with, owing to his high honour and punctuality. He will not pocket a farthing that is the right of any man living, and he is always on the watch lest some designing fellow overreach him in these minute particulars. For all this, he has assisted many of his poor relations with money and credit, when he thought them deserving it, or judged that it could be of any benefit to them; but always with the strictest injunctions of secrecy, and an assurance, that, if ever they let the transaction pass the tips of their tongues to any one, they forfeited their right to his assistance. The consequence of this has always been, that while he was doing a great deal of good to others by his credit, he was railing against the system of giving credit all the while; so that those who knew him not, took him for a selfish, contracted, churlish old rascal.

He was once applied to in behalf of a nephew, who had some fair prospects of setting up in business. He thought the stake too high, and declined it; for it was a rule with

him, never to credit any one so far, as to put it in his power to distress him, or drive him into any embarrassment. A few months afterward, he consented to become bound for one half of the sum required, and the other half was made up by some poorer relations in conjunction. The bonds at last became due, and I chanced to be present on a visit to my old friend Singlebeard, when the young man came to demand his uncle's quota of the money required. I knew nothing of the matter, but I could not help noticing the change in old Saundy's look, the moment that the lad made his appearance. I suppose he thought him too foppish to be a sole dependant on the credit of others, and perhaps judged his success in business, on that account, rather doubtful. At all events, he had a certain quizzical dissatisfied look that I never observed before, and to that all his remarks were conformable.

"That's surely a very fine horse of your's, Jock? Hech, man, but he is a sleek one. How much corn does he eat in a year, this hunter of your's, Jock?"

"Not much, Sir, not much. He is a very fine horse that, uncle. Look at his shoulder; and see what limbs he has got; and what a pastern !— How much do you suppose such a horse would be worth, now, unele ?"

"Why, Jock, I cannot help thinking he is something like Geordy Dean's daughter-in-law, nought but a spindle-shankit devil; I would not wonder if he had cost you eighteen. pounds, that greyhound of a creature."

"What a prime judge you are! Why, uncle, that horse cost eightyfive guineas last Autumn. He is a real blood horse that; and has won a great deal of valuable plate."

"Oh! that indeed alters the case! And have you got all that valuable plate?" it was before he came

« Nay, nay, to my hand.'

"I think that was rather a pity now, Jock. I cannot help thinking that was a great pity; because if you had got it, you would then have had something you could have called your own. So you don't know how much corn that fellow eats in a year?"

"Beshrew me if I know; he never gets above three feeds in a day, unless when he is on a journey, and then he takes five or six."

"Then, take an average of four: four feeds are worth two shillings now, at least, as corn is selling. There is fourteen shillings a-week: fourteen times fifty-two-why, Jock, there is £.36: 8s. for horse's corn; and there will be about half as much for hay, or more, besides: on the whole, I find he will cost you about £.50 a-year at livery. I suppose there is an absolute necessity that a manufacturer should keep such a horse?"

"O! God bless you, Sir, to be sure. We must gather in money and orders, you know. And then, consider the ease and convenience of travelling on such a creature as that, compared with one of your vile lowbred hacks; one goes through the country as he were flying, on that animal."

Old Saundy paddled away from the stable, toward the house, chuckling and laughing to himself; but again turned round, before he got half-way." Right, Jock! quite right. Nothing like gathering in plenty of money and orders. But, Jock, hark ye-I do not think there is any necessity for flying when one is on such a commission. You should go leisurely and slowly through the towns and villages, keeping all your eyes about you, and using every honest art to attain good customers. How the devil can you do this, if you go as you were flying through the country? People, instead of giving you a good order, will come to their shop-door, and say-there goes the flying manufacturer.-Jock, they say & rolling stone never gathers any moss. How do you think a flying one should gather it ?"

The dialogue went on in the same half-humorous, half - jeering tone all the forenoon, as well as during dinner, while a great number of queries still continued to be put to the young man; as-How much his lodgings cost him a-year? The answer to this astounded old Saundy. His comprehension could hardly take it in; he opened his eyes wide, and held up his hands, exclaiming, with a great burst of breath, "What

enormous profits there must be in your business. How much did these fine boots and spurs cost?"What was his tailor's bill yearly? and every thing in the same manner, as if the young gentleman had come from a foreign country, of which Saundy Singlebeard wished to note down every particular. The nephew was a little in the fidgets, but knowing the ground on which he stood, he answered all his uncle's queries but too truly, impressing on his frugal mind a far greater idea of his own expenditure than was necessary, and which my old friend could not help viewing as utterly extravagant.

Old

Immediately on the removal of the cloth, the young gentleman withdrew into another room, and sending for his uncle to speak with him, he there explained the nature of his errand, and how absolutely necessary it was for him to have the money for the relief of his bond. Saundy was off in a twinkling. He had no money for him-not one copper!-not the value of a hair of his thin grey beard should he have from him! He had other uses for his money, and had won it too hardly to give it to any one to throw away for him on rooms and grand carpets, galloping horses, and four-guinea boots.

They returned to the parlour, and we drank some whisky toddy together. There was no more jibing and snapping. The old man was civil and attentive, but the face of the young one exhibited marks of anger and despair. He took his leave, and went away abruptly enough; and in order, as I thought, to humour my old acquaintance and entertainer, I began to break some jests on the flying manufacturer. But I mistook my man, well as I thought I knew him. His shaft was shot, and he soon let me know he had a different opinion of his nephew from what I supposed. He said he was a good lad; an ingenious and honest one; that he scarcely knew a better of his years; but he wanted to curb a little that upsetting spirit in him, to which every young man new to business was too much addicted.

The young gentleman went to his other friend's in a sad pickle, and

represented himself to them as ruined beyond all redress; reprobating all the while the inconsistency of his uncle, and his unaccountable and ill-timed penury.

:

The most part of the young gentleman's relations were in deep dismay at this default of the uncle's; but one of them the most deeply engaged in the transaction, after listening seriously to the narration, instead of being vexed, only laughed immoderately at the whole affair, and said he never heard any thing so comic and truly ludicrous. "Go your ways home, and mind your business," said he you do not know any thing of old uncle Sandy leave the whole matter to me, and I shall answer for his share of the concern." "You will be answerable for that which never will happen, then," said the nephew. "If the money is not paid till he advance it, the sum shall never be paid on this side of time. You may as well try to extract it from the rock on the side of the mountain." "Go your ways," said the other. "It is evident that you can do nothing in the business; and were the sum three times the amount of what it is, I shall be answerable for it." It turned out precisely as this gentleman predicted; but no man will conceive old Sandy's motive for refusing that which he was in fact bound to perform. He could not bear to have it known that he had done so liberal and generous an action, and wished to manage matters so, that his nephew might believe the money to have been raised by some other means, and that he was nothing obliged to him for it; besides, he could not put his nephew to the same school in which he himself had been taught, namely, the school of actual adversity; but he wanted to give him a touch of ideal misfortune, that he might learn the value of independence.

FOSCARI: A TRAGEDY.

OUR talents, as Reviewers, have this month been called in question, by the following modest epistle, accompanied by a MS. tragedy:

VOL. IX.

To the Editor of the Edinburgh Magazine. SIR,

I CONSIDER myself very much like Lord Byron. You may stare, my good Sir, at this unexpected declaration; but I can assure you it is the fact. Letting alone all peculiarities of mind, in person I am his exact counterpart. The two Sosias were not more alike. I have been several times mistaken for his lordship, and have once been even horse-whipped for him. I can hardly go into a party without becoming the subject of many a whisper among the female end of the room. "Lord! what a poetical face!-how like Lord Byron's!" In short, Mr Editor, I am, like his lordship, a very interesting young man, and the modestest creature in nature.

Seeing in the papers his lordship's new tragedy of Foscari announced, I bethought myself of a piece of that name, which I myself had formerly written (for I am one of the " genus irritabile") on that subject, and which I intend sometime to dazzle the world with in print. I have sent it to you, in order that you may review it, as I am unwilling to publish the whole tragedy at present.

I need not ask what is your opinion of my work-there can be but one opinion of its merits. My friend Mr Erasmus Webster (a very clever man!) thinks as I do, that there cannot exist two opinions on the subject. I once shewed it to Jack Scruesnip!-Would you believe it? he advised me to put it in the fire!-In the fire! sheer envy! He once told a certain person that I was little better than-what do you think, my dear sir?-little better than- -an ass! Oh, the ideot. But I must give up scrawling_at present-am engaged to a balldance with Miss Lenisetta Icharming girl likes me-very just opinion of my qualities-When I talk to her-Lord! you'd wonder how I delight her-she smiles, and smiles, and smiles till she almost laughs. There's for you. Via!