For, dash it! then he'll take his fling,
And bound beyond the Hyperian spring;
For off he springs, and leaves behind
But blasts of sounding smoke and wind.-
Away we rattle o'er the shingle,
That makes a most tremendous jingle,
With jarring rhymes, and puns despised,
Procured from words Mac-Adamised.
So much the better! for the dumps
Are soonest cured by jolts and bumps;
And if our fare is but in trance,
We'll lead him such a merry dance,
And give him such a hearty shaking,
That he shall laugh with very aching-
But should an Incubus have sat
Upon his paunch while lying flat,
Outswell'd with undigested pride-
And have recorded suicide,

For smothering, not his breath, but smile-
Tho' he the coroner should revile,

And scold the jury for the sentence,

Until his laughter show repentance

(That is-new life), I'll hold him dead
As ere a man, without a head;
And hand him over for a bribe
To all th' anatomising tribe;-
I mean the literary shavers,
Quill-cutters, pruners, and in-gravers,
Who'll gladly cut him up alive,
And points through all his fibres drive;
Who'll hash him up for Sunday news,
And sport his spectre in reviews;
Then leave him to the graphic troop,
Those vultures of the press, that swoop
Along that scythe-arm'd chariot's ruts,
To rip out type-struck victims' guts,
And much disfigure them by cuts.
Who love to claw these luscious cates,
On wooden, stone, or copper-plates.
Thus critics and the graver-class
Are wont to treat a solemn ass,
Or author, just enough the hone
To set their teeth or tools upon;
As Canning on the naughty Don.

We are their resurrection-men,
Who furnish muttons for their pen;
Dead subjects, flat as mutton-ham,
Or quick as lambkins or a ram.
But then they've got an act to pass,
To save from scathe the sheep and ass;

And as our juries have been put on,
To mulct so high for damaged mutton,
We dare not sell aught else but sound,
And that's too light to vend per pound.
The purpose therefore we detail,
Is, sir, with you to deal wholesale:
We'll sell you subjects whole and sweet,
Or rank, but nought that is not meat.
But then, you'll buy them, we compute,
So much the ton, the gross, a Cwt.
The fresh and stale we mean to mingle,
And none from out the crowd to single-
Lest it to Libel should belong,
That friend of truth, not god of song.
No fear of crowding up your room
By these citations from the tomb:
It lies with you to make them less;
Strain hard and squeeze them in the press.

For catalogues of what we've miss'd,
We leave you to our travellers' list;
They're Messrs. Bad (Taste, and Example),
Who will produce you many a sample.
See some neat specimens by Hood;
In copper some extremely good,
By Cruikshank, and our pioneers,
Who're gone to mine for puns and jeers,
In stone, and copper districts, whence
They send home-strokes at small expense.
We had a foreman in this business,

Who prosper'd some time by his quizziness;
But then, the pedder rode too loose,
And ran into a prurient sluice,

Which caused his wares to smell so high,

The vilest panders scarce would buy.
We turn'd off Colman long ago,

For selling goods so very low

And broader grins-your courser wearies?
Then graze him in his moist vagaries,
And lap your lurchers in his dairies;
There's nothing there, that they can spoil-
On 's commons-'tis your horse gets soil,-
You slush-but fear not legal moil."
And last, good sir, accept our leaves,
You judge now what our skill achieves-
Make us your undertaker-laureat,
We care not what we quarry at—
If you want game-high-flavour'd puns,
Say but the word, we're off like guns,—
We'll rend and punish it for you,
And fit it for a fine haut-gout.
Besides, we are pun-pastry-cooks
That long to get into your books—

Pray take our words-if puns are good,
And dress'd in pungent sauce, they're food
For all who are of pleasant mood.
Above all men, beware the stern,

Who relish nought but what will burn,

Whose breath blows hot and cold in turn:
Trust not such puffers, who but mean
To blow up soon your Magazine.

N. B.

ALMACK'S, A NOVEL.*

THE word, 'aristocracy' is not of unfrequent occurrence in late publications. The sense in which this term has been used in relation to political subjects, is that of a privileged class, a selection of families, picked out by the hands of fate for the enjoyment of the pleasures of society, and an immunity from its pains. Inasmuch as our legislature is chiefly hereditary, reformers have glanced at the education, the habits, and characters of our aristocracy, with the view of showing perhaps that hereditary legislation was not the best possible kind, and that the trust of law-giving might be placed in hands better qualified for the just discharge of this important function. Education, however, has of late spread far and wide, and seems to have worked its way upwards as well as downwards. The accomplishments of reading, writing, and composing † have become common in the highest ranks,

Almack's, a Novel, in 3 Vols. Saunders and Otley, London, 1826. 12mo.

+ Spelling is an accomplishment indicating a very advanced state of literature. The old Duke of Cumberland's love-letters are a very amusing specimen of deficiency in this branch of the arts. The present Lord Melbourn's letters, in Mrs. Baddeley's Memoirs, are as deficient in spelling as in grammar. His Lordship, among various other elegancies, says, "horses is dear in France!" But bad spelling is not merely royal and noble. The most distinguished authors cannot spell one of the most copious writers and fluent speakers of the day, writes tragedy' with aj. The letters of ladies, while they abound in every charm, too frequently betray a want of familiarity with the lessons of the classic Dilworth. How common is it to meet with a feminine epistle, which abounds "in thoughts that burn," and in words that halt. We fear that ladies lose much by this mutilation-the fastidious eye shuts the open heartno one believes in sincerity' spelt with a c-every man rejects the affection that cannot boast its complement of fls.

and publication has become the fashion among the nobility of the day. The line that has been chiefly selected is not a little singular. Understanding that much curiosity was afloat respecting the aristocratical habits and manners, they have taken to showing themselves up to the view of the world by means of novels. The middle and lower classes may now behold as in a mirror the ways of the great, even down to the minutest particular. It is a natural vanity for persons to suppose themselves the object of peculiar attention-in this instance, however, there has been no mistake. In this country the aristocracy have not greater direct than they have indirect power. They give the laws in manners, in dress, in all the forms and fashions of society, as much as they do in affairs of game, corn, or currency, and they are much more eagerly obeyed in the former capacity than in the latter. The great mass of the middle ranks are on the tiptoe of anxiety to ascertain and to follow the example which they seek in the highest ranks. The ways and tastes of our aristocracy are imitated as closely as means will permit from one end of the kingdom to the other-their offences are overlooked or are applauded-it is an honour to be acquainted with them. One lord will purify a wide circle of acquaintance from the taint of vulgarity. Should any part of a person's behaviour be proved to be at variance with, or in contradiction to, the behaviour of high persons, he is set down as unfit for decent society; and in spite of any quantity of useful merit he may possess, he will probably be ejected either by the violent process of insult, or the slower and surer one of neglect. In no other country on the face of the earth is to be found a sincerer or a deeper-rooted respect for the artificial distinctions of rank. "No man, be he who he may," said Mr. Adolphus, the barrister, the other day, when pleading the cause of a poor man whose asses had been taken from him by the brother of a lord, no man can exceed me in the respect I bear to the nobility." Mr. Adolphus shares this feeling, though we may allow his claim of being foremost in the rank, with the bulk of his fellow-citizens. When titular rank and hereditary honours are joined with large possessions and great wealth, then the measure of servility is full. The blaze of splendour is confessed to be irresistible by plebeian eyes. It might be a profitable subject of inquiry to investigate the means which have been taken to lay the foundations of this moral power so deep in the hearts of the citizens of Great Britain. At present our purpose is not of so serious a kind, it being merely our intention, by sketching the contents of a work, avowedly by one of the Exclusive class, and designed as a picture of the manners of the actual nobility, to amuse ourselves, and perhaps our readers, in collecting a few of the traits of high life and high character.

To have nothing to do, and to have every thing for asking, is, to an unthinking mind, the height of bliss. It is very much the case with our wealthy nobility; they who have lands generally leave them to the care of others, and, taking a liberal guess as to the amount of their rent-roll as a guide, nominally regulate their expenses according to it They who have smaller and fixed incomes, as the junior branches, contrive to make it serve as a part payment of bills to a much greater amount; the remainder to be settled by post obits and annuities, which are cleared off sometimes by the lucky demise of elder brothers, or by the generous interference of wealthier relatives. Others, again, of a

more reflective kind, or a more cautious breed, or connected with more powerful families, quarter themselves on the public, and, under the guise of commissioners, secretaries, and clerks, contrive to draw the means of large expense. The great point of subsistence being disposed of, the essential article of employment must be provided. Man was made to moil, and if his labour is not compulsory, it will be voluntary: the difference chiefly between casting up columns of figures, and playing at ecarté, lying in the motives which induce the respective undertakings.

Distinction being one of the grandest passions of human nature, it is made the foundation of the aristocratical employments, or as they are called, amusements. The first point settled is to fix upon some mode of passing the time in which the vulgar cannot share. If in process of time the vulgar, either by learning the trick, or by exertions of their own, intrude upon their amusements, they are immediately given up; new modes are invented, and the old ones being pronounced unfashionable, are abandoned-first, of course, by the few great, and next by the numerous small, who unhappily place their pride in chasing the others as closely as possible in their career.

It is however easy to understand how the vulgar are kept at a distance by a judicious choice of the pastime; a constant element being expense which few can afford-such as fox-hunting, splendid houses, magnificent entertainments, &c.; and next how, by a power of varying their pursuits, the fashionable aristocracy have the game in their own hands, and can easily elude pursuit. If theatres are this season the fashionable pleasure, before the vulgar are fully aware of the fact, and have rushed in to share the spectacle, the exclusives are gone it is the Opera-house; and then it is the French play, or any thing else-it matters not what. The tactique descends to riding, dancing, walking, dress, carriages, games at cards, phrases of speech, and even the set of a curl, or the clip of a whisker. When the fashion of wearing an immense forest of hair on the face came in, we predicted that it would not last long-Why? Every man who has arrived at puberty can command a beard. Go now into Howell and James's, or into Waterloo House, and see who they are who boast the most luxuriant crops of cheek-stubble.

It must be remembered that there are the great vulgar as well as the small. Wealth in this country is proverbially powerful; and it is not unusual for the Exclusives to find their preserves invaded by people who are too rich to be turned off without some address and difficulty. Many of the Exclusives know too well the want of money not to value the possessions of persons whom they are otherwise ready to despise. Coronets are bartered for pelf, and alliances take place which make ugly breaches in the great defences which the Exclusives have laboured to set up against the rest of the world. Out of this arises the necessity of still farther distinction-if it is a gratification to be marked out as a peculiar and honourable class from the mass of mankind, it must be still more gratifying to belong to the most honourable part of the class of honour. Here is a principle capable of being carried a long way, and it is the cause of very curious subdivisions and classifications in the inner and more sacred circles of the patrician order. The