temporary convenience they are destroying the morals, health and industry of the people.

AUTHORS.

I should renounce politics the more willingly if I could find other topics of conversation discussed with more modesty and candor, but the demon of party seems to have usurped every department of life. Even the world of literature and taste is divided into the most virulent factions, which revile, decry and traduce the works of one another. Yesterday I went to return an afternoon's visit to a gentleman of my acquaintance, at whose house I found one of the authors of the present age who has writter with some success. As I had read one or two of his performances which gave me pleasure, I was glad of this opportunity to know his person; but his discourse and deportment destroyed all the impressions which his writings had made in his favor. He took on him to decide dogmatically on every subject without deigning to show the least cause for his differing from the general opinions of mankind, as if it had been our duty to acquiesce in the ipse dixit of this new Pythagoras. He rejudged the characters of all the principal authors who had died within a century of the present time, and in this revision paid no sort of regard to the reputation they had acquired. Milton was harsh and prosaic; Dryden, languid and verbose; Butler and Swift, without humor; Congreve, without wit; and Pope, destitute of any sort of poetical merit. As for his contemporaries, he could not bear to hear one of them mentioned with any degree of applause: they were all dunces, pedants, plagiaries, quacks

and impostors; and you could not name a single performance but what was tame, stupid and insipid. It must be owned that this writer had nothing to charge his conscience with on the side of flattery, for I understand he was never known to praise one line that was written even by those with whom he lived on terms of goodfellowship. This arrogance and presumption in depreciating authors for whose reputation the company may be interested is such an insult on the understanding as I could not bear without wincing.

I desired to know his reasons for decrying some works which had afforded me uncommon pleasure, and, as demonstration did not seem to be his talent, I dissented from his opinion with great freedom. Having been spoiled by the deference and humility of his hearers, he did not bear contradiction with much temper; and the dispute might have grown warm had it not been interrupted by the entrance of a rival bard, at whose appearance he always quits the place. They are of different cabals, and have been at open war these twenty years. If the other was dogmatical, this genius was declamatory: he did not discourse, but harangued; and his orations were equally tedious and turgid. He too pronounces ex cathedrá on the characters of his contemporaries; and, though he scruples not to deal out praise, even lavishly, to the lowest reptile in Grub street who will either flatter him in private or mount the public rostrum as his panegyrist, he damns all the other writers of the age with the utmost insolence and rancor. One is a blunderbuss, as being a native of Ireland; another half starved, from the

If I stay much longer at Edinburgh, I shall be changed into a downright Caledonian. My uncle observes that I have already acquired something of the country accent. The people here are so social and attentive in their civilities to strangers that I am insensibly sucked into the channel of their manners and customs, although they are, in fact, much more different from ours than you can imagine. That difference, however, which struck me very much at my first arrival I now hardly perceive, and my ear is perfectly reconciled to the Scotch accent, which I find even agreeable in the mouth of a pretty woman. It is a sort of Doric dialect which gives an idea of amiable simplicity. You cannot imagine how we have been caressed and feasted in the good town of Edinburgh, of which we have become free denizens and guild-brothers by the special favor of the magistracy.

I had a whimsical commission from Bath to a citizen of this metropolis. Quin, understanding our intention to visit Edinburgh, pulled out a guinea and desired the favor I would drink it at a tavern with a particular friend and bottle-companion of his, one Mr. R▬▬▬ C▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ a lawyer of this city. I charged myself with the commission, and, taking the guinea, "You see, "You see," said I, "I have pocketed your bounty." "Yes," replied Quin, laughing, "and a headache into the bargain, if you drink fair."

and

I made use of this introduction to Mr. C, who received me with open arms and gave me the rendezvous according to the cartel. He had provided a company of jolly fellows, among whom I found myself extremely happy, and did Mr. C Quin all the justice in my power; but, alas! I was no more than a tyro among a troop of veterans, who had compassion on my youth and conveyed me home in the morning-by what means I know not. Quin was mistaken, however, as to the headache: the claret was too good to treat me so roughly.

While Mr. Bramble holds conferences with the graver literati of the place and our females are entertained at visits by the Scotch ladies, who are the best and kindest creatures on earth, I pass my time among the bucks of Edinburgh, who with a great share of spirit and vivacity have a certain shrewdness and self-command that is not often found among their neighbors in the heyday of youth and exultation. Not a hint escapes a Scotchman that can be interpreted into offence by any individual of the company, and national reflections are never heard. In this particular, I must own, we are both unjust and ungrateful to the Scotch; for, as far as I am able to judge, they have a real esteem for the natives of South Britain and never mention our country but with expressions of regard. Nevertheless, they are far from being servile imitators of our modes and fashionable vices. All their customs and regulations of public and private economy, of business and diversion, are in their own style. This remarkably predominates in their looks, their dress and manners, their music, and even their cook

ery. Our squire declares that he knows not another people on earth so strongly marked with a national character.

Now we are on the article of cookery, I must own some of their dishes are savory, and even delicate; but I am not yet Scotchman enough to relish their singed sheep's head and haggis, which were provided at our request one day at Mr. Mitchelson's, where we dined. The first put me in mind of the history of Congo in which I read of negroes' heads sold publicly in the markets; the last, being a mess of minced lights, livers, suet, oatmeal, onions and pepper enclosed in a sheep's stomach, had a very sudden effect on mine, and the delicate Mrs. Tabby changed color, when the cause of our disgust was instantaneously removed at the nod of our entertainer. The Scotch in general are attached to this composition with a sort of national fondness, as well as to their oatmeal bread, which is presented at every table in thin triangular cakes baked on a plate of iron called a girdle; and these many of the natives, even in the higher ranks of life, prefer to wheaten bread, which they have here in perfection.

You know we used to vex poor Murray of Baliol College by asking if there was really no fruit but turnips in Scotland. Sure enough, I have seen turnips make their appearance—not as a dessert, but by way of a hors d'oeuvres, or whets, as radishes are served up between more substantial dishes in France and Italy; but it must be observed that the turnips of this country are as much superior in sweetness, delicacy and flavor to those of England as a muskmelon is to the stock of a common cabbage. They

are small and conical, of a yellowish color, with a very thin skin, and, over and above their agreeable taste, are valuable for their antiscorbutic quality.

As to the fruit now in season-such as cherries, gooseberries and currants-there is no want of them at Edinburgh, and in the gardens of some gentlemen who live in this neighborhood there is now a very favorable appearance of apricots, peaches, nectarines, and even grapes; nay, I have seen a very fine show of pineapples within a few miles of this metropolis. Indeed, we have no reason to be surprised at these particulars, when we consider how little difference there is, in fact, between this climate and that of London.

All the remarkable places in the city and its avenues for ten miles around we have. visited, much to our satisfaction. In the castle are some royal apartments where the sovereign occasionally resided, and here are carefully preserved the regalia of the kingdom, consisting of a crown-said to be of great value-a sceptre and a sword of state adorned with jewels. Of these symbols of sovereignty the people are exceedingly jealous. A report being spread, during the sitting of the Union Parliament, that they were removed to London, such a tumult arose that the lord commissioner would have been torn in pieces if he had not produced them for the satisfaction of the populace.

The palace of Holyrood House is an elegant piece of architecture, but sunk in an obscure-and, as I take it, unwholesome— bottom, where one would imagine it had been placed on purpose to be concealed. The apartments are lofty, but unfurnished; and, as for the pictures of the Scottish kings

from Fergus I. to King William, they are paltry daubings, mostly by the same hand, painted either from the imagination or porters hired to sit for the purpose.

All the diversions of London we enjoy at Edinburgh in a small compass. Here is a well-conducted concert in which several gentlemen perform on different instruments. The Scots are all musicians. Every man you meet plays on the flute, the violin or violoncello, and there is one nobleman whose compositions are universally admired. Our company of actors is very tolerable, and a subscription is now on foot for building a new theatre; but their assemblies please me above all other public exhibitions.

We have been at the hunters' ball, where I was really astonished to see such a number of fine women. The English who have never crossed the Tweed imagine erroneously that the Scotch ladies are not remarkable for personal attractions, but I can declare with a safe conscience I never saw so many handsome females together as were assembled on this occasion. At the Leith races the best company comes hither from the remoter provinces; so that I suppose we had all the beauty of the kingdom concentrated, as it were, into one focus, which was, indeed, so vehement that my heart could hardly resist its power. Between friends, it has sustained some damage from the bright eyes of the charming Miss R―n, whom I had the honor to dance with at the ball. The countess of Melville attracted all eyes and the admiration of all present. She was accompanied by the agreeable Miss Grieve, who made many conquests; nor did my sister Liddy pass unnoticed in the assembly. She is become a toast at Edinburgh by the name of

the Fair Cambrian, and has already been the occasion of much wine-shed; but the poor girl met with an accident at the ball which has given us great disturbance.

A young gentleman the express image of that rascal Wilson went up to ask her to dance a minute, and his sudden appearance shocked her so much that she fainted away. I call Wilson a rascal because, if he had been really a gentleman with honorable intentions, he would have ere now appeared in his own character. I must own my blood boils with indignation when I think of that fellow's presumption, and Heaven confound me if I don't- But I won't be so womanish as to rail time will perhaps furnish occasion. Thank God, the cause of Liddy's disorder remains a secret. The lady-directress of the ball, thinking she was overcome by the heat of the place, had her conveyed to another room, where she soon recovered so well as to return and join in the country-dances, in which the Scotch lasses acquit themselves with such spirit and agility as put their partners to the height of their metal.

I believe our aunt, Mrs. Tabitha, had entertained hopes of being able to do some execution among the cavaliers at this assembly. She had been several days in consultation with milliners and mantuamakers, preparing for the occasion, at which she made her appearance in a full suit of damask so thick and heavy that the sight of it alone at this season of the year was sufficient to draw drops of sweat from any man of ordinary imagination. She danced one minute with our friend Mr. Mitchelson, who favored her so far in the spirit of hospitality and politeness, and she was called out a second time by the young