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long experience, that we have thriven under the old notions, we hold to them with a tenacity, which to some may appear obstinate, but which, as yet, we have seen no reason to repent. Intimately convinced that this country is a great instrument in the hands of God, we hope that it will not be turned to evil, and to the utmost of our ability, shall resist all machinations for that purpose. And loving that country with a more than filial love, ⚫ attached to all its interests, rejoicing in its prosperity, grieved to the soul in its adversity, delighted to see it victorious in war, still more delighted to see it tranquil at home, and honoured abroad during peace, we shall never cease to advocate the cause of those whose exertions we firmly believe have promoted, and will promote, its happiness or its glory. Of the effect of our work in diffusing a healthy and manly tone throughout the empire, and of creating a proper spirit of courage and patriotism, it would be vanity to speak. It has had its effect, and we are satisfied.
Hark! exquisite music! Our street-bands are indeed wondrously executive." Wha wadna be in love with bonny Maggy Lauder?"-Come, Tickler-a jig, a jig!-Gentle reader, farewell, and pardon us for having thus bestowed our tediousness upon you. Not one half of our good works are yet touched upon, but true merit is ever modest,
So we WISH THE UNIVERSE A HAPPY NEW YEAR.
A few words to correspondents. We began our work without ever dreaming of correspondents, being in ourselves an host. Matter enough we have ever had-far more than enough; and by means of such machinery as we possess, we can, in one day, work up the raw material into the most firm and beautiful texture for immediate sale-all articles warranted. But month after month, correspondents, unasked, have joined our banners. Country gentlemen, of fortune, and no profession-town gentlemen of profession, and no fortune-doctors of Esculapian skill-clergymen of the old Jeremy Taylor breed-barristers, who one day or other will be Copleys-naval and military officers, emulous of Nelson and O'Doherty-men before the mast and among the light-bobs-travelling Fellows of Colleges-merchants worth a plum-clerks with salaries of £75 per annum-maiden ladies of true motherly affections-misses in their teens-and wonderful old women, who have cut young teeth at fourscore and ten-A merry New-Year to you all! You know us too well now to be in any feverish anxiety about the insertion of your articles. An Editor must be something of a despot, although by nature the mildest of men. But he never forgets one single soul of you-and every now and then, an Article, supposed to be lost for ever, appears suddenly with, all the effulgence of a comet. Talent, wit, learning, never can knock in vain at the door of our Sanctum; nor is there one instance on record of either having left its interior in disappointment. Delightful has it been to us to see genius coming forth in power from the most
expected quarters, to the support of principles for ever exposed to danger, but we now believe imperishable. In another year or so, perhaps, we shall publish a List of Contributors, such as never appeared to any Joint-Stock Company. The world knows the inexhaustible richness of-THE MINE.
MY DEAR NORTH,
Is the proposal you have of late so earnestly and frequently urged on me, that I should shape and parcel out my military recollections into articles for your Magazine, I really am at a loss to recognize, either that felicity of tact, or soundness of judgment, by which you are usually distinguished. I remember in 1816, when our acquaintance first commenced, (it was at Gibraltar, on your return from the Levant,) that certain moving narrations of the accidents I had encountered by flood and field, did occasionally contribute, along with the Malaga and cigars, to relieve the monotony of the evenings in my barrack-room, when you condescended to become its guest. You were then obligingly tolerant of the poorness of your cheer, both mental and physical, at least politely quiescent when I assumed the dreaded, though acknowledged privilege of an old soldier, and
"Fought all my battles o'er again, And thrice I slew the slain."
You did more than this. You strongly recommended me to compend a regular and consecutive narrative of the more striking portions of my military career, from the confused chaos of maVOL. XIX.
terials I had laid before you, and assured me of your conviction, that the strong interest they had excited in you would not be unparticipated by the public.
My own indolence, and other causes not now necessary to notice, prevented my then following your advice. I did not write a book, though the time was certainly favourable for such an undertaking. The excitement produced by the war, and its glorious termination, had not yet passed away; Waterloo still rung in every ear; the allies were yet in Paris; Napoleon was scarcely chained to his rock; the voice of the reading public was for warwar not merely in the pride, pomp, and circumstance with which it is invested by the historian, but in those humbler aspects, and more minute details, which those alone who were themselves actors in the scene can supply. In these circumstances, the booksellers set at work their potent spells to evoke military spirits from the vasty deep. And who answered to the call? Why, James Simpson, and a few other tourists of equal calibre and capacity for the task. The Farce of Simpson & Co., however was played with success, and had a run. And such was then the indiscriminate
voracity of the public, that works of
"Graced his cause
What is it then you require of me? I
But, in truth, my good North, how ever well they may be executed, the taste for such subjects is now considerably on the wane. No writer at this time of day can expect in his readers a sensitive participation in the perils of an out-picket, nor induce them, by any eloqueuce, to cherish fervent aspirations for the escape of a foraging party. They will regard with
apathy the most moving narrative of [Jan. the exploits of all regimental officers, and have even not the smallest wish for a nearer view of the vie privée of a Poker endeavour to stir up the blaze brigade major. In vain may Captain jor Tongs, were his exploits told by of sympathy for neglected merit; Matongues far more eloquent than his own, would excite no admiration ; to bestow a tear on the ashes of Lieuand beneath the great. (This pun deserves tenant Fireshovel will still, I fear, be a kick. It trickled involuntarily from my pen; but
"Even in our ashes live our wonted fires," public are unreasonable, and I will and I fear I shall die a punster.) The not consent to bear in mind that a cornet is in posse chrysalis of a FieldMarshal. They are indifferent about the progress of a career which ends in a veteran battalion, or like my own, in a half-pay majority. They will not brood over an ensign in the egg, nor follow him with breathless eagerness through all the perils of his chickenfledged Governor of a Sugar island, or hood, even should he end in the wellthis, I say, the public will not do, and a member of the Clothing board. All I think you would do well to direct your efforts and attention to the supply of more marketable commodities than any you can expect from me. What I have already said, however, is matter for your consideration, not for mine. If you choose to fob your readers off with dull refacciamentos, and your readers prosper on such spare diet, I myself any concern about the matter. really do not see why I should give By failing in the attempt, I, at least, lose nothing. I have no literary character to be jeoparded in the trial; am a man who trades without capital, I whom no reverse of fortune can make worse than he was originally-a beggar. But even this chance I shall avoid. By you only can I be known as a being of thewes and sinews, a real
We believe we have never noticed this writer before. Bating an affectation of style, which pervades the whole of his works, we have no fault to find with his Recollections and Travels. They betray considerable graphic power, and are stamped throughout with the impress of an elegant and amiable mind. But a work more thoroughly absurd and worthless than "The Story of a Life," we never met, except from the press of Leadenhall Street. There is throughout a constant effort and straining after effect; a turgid verbosity, which is to us very tiresome and disgusting. There is, however, something pleasant in watching the strenuous efforts of a clever man to knock down his own reputation, and endeavouring, even unsuccessfully, to get himself written down an ass.