CHAPTERXIX.
AsHamilton was proceeding to the house of the Baronet, he met his worthy and respected friend, Dr. Scribble, in company of the no less respectable bookseller, whom he had once seen, Mr. Jeffery Lawhunt. The Doctor, with eager warmth, ran to take hold of Hamilton, whom he had not seen for several weeks, and declared himself extremely happy in the interview. Lawhunt and he were about a project, in which the assistance of Hamilton would, the Doctor said, be of great use to them; and he proposed that they should immediately form an appointment. Our hero, besides the business about which he wasemployed, had no curiosity to interfere in any publication, in which Jeffery was to be the pecuniary, and Scribble the literary manager. Scribble, however, pressed him very much. Hamilton replied he was engaged to meet Sir Edward Hamden upon business, and that, uncertain how long time that might occupy, he could fix no appointment. At this instant, a carriage passing, a voice called the name of Hamilton, and turning about, he beheld the subject of his conversation. Hamilton informed him, that he was on his way to his house, and wished for a long conversation. Hamden told him he was going out of town, by an appointment, at that time; but would either visit, receive, or meet him, the following morning, at any hour he should name. This matter being arranged, the Baronet departed, and Scribble and his companion, who had heardwhat passed, and understood that he was unengaged, insisted on his listening to their project; and at length, overcome by their importunity, he consented. Accordingly, walking to the outskirts of the town, they reached a coffee-house, which Hamilton found was to be the scene of their deliberations. They were no sooner arrived than Scribble proposed, seconded by Lawhunt, that they should give directions for dinner. Hamilton, though vexed at the prospect of losing time, in company that promised so little information, instruction, or benefit, yet, not wishing to shock Scribble, by shewing the real estimation in which he held his discourse, consented to continue one of the party; they took possession of a back parlour; down they sat, and opened the business. Scribble commenced with a dissertation on the wonderful benefits that must accrue toBritish literature, from foreign works, and especially from the modern erudition of Germany. “There,” said Dicky, “they bestow due pains on investigating the valuable secrets of nature; thence are derived our most accurate knowledge on accoustics, acroatics, astrology, astronomy, anatomy, beatifics, botany, chemistry, drill-husbandry, excrescences, eclipses, electricity, in short, why need I enumerate particulars of all knowledge, philosophy, and art, ancient and modern; they have brought illuminism to it’s present wonderful height; they have their Weishaup, and their numberless other enlightened sages, upon morals and politics; then they have their novels, and poems, and plays, manifesting such new views of substances, modes, and relations, shewing God, nature, and man, in lights in which the dullness and ignoranceof British genius and erudition never before represented such objects; and they possess that perseverance and industry, which I hold to be the chief constituent of genius. It is a mistake, that intellectual superiority depends upon any natural gift, it is merely the result of exercise and effort; but this subject you will see fully illustrated in my preface to my history of Jack the giant-killer; for instance, as I there admit, I, myself, was not naturally very greatly beyond my cotemporaries. It was my ardent desire of literary excellence, that stimulated me to the extraordinary efforts which have raised me so far to transcend ordinary men; but this is a digression, though tending to illustrate my praises of the Germans, for their meritorious industry: and here let me remark one conspicuous superiority of German over British diligence,in literary subjects; our countrymen, adhering to the absurd doctrine of utility, are loth to apply with equal diligence to all subjects; for instance, a common reviewer would not bestow equal minuteness of attention on the wings and abdomen of a bee, as on the fate of a nation. How different a German, who will employ as profound research, in investigating the various members of a fly, as the powers and qualities of the human understanding and heart; this is, indeed, a minuteness of inquiry, in which I vouchsafe to copy the Germans, both in criticism and in original composition, as you may have observed in various reviews, which bear themselves to be mine, and also in my other writings; but most of all in “my essay upon cats,” including my scheme for improving their moral habits, and teaching them to be more attentive to decencyand silence, when inspirited by omnipotent nature; also in my history of Jack the giant-killer: but as I admire German learning to imitation, I think it my bounden duty to naturalize as great a quantity of that valuable erudition, as my time and engagements will admit. A more munificent patron of learning is no where to be found, than this worthy gentleman, Mr. Jeffery Lawhunt.” “Oh yes,” said Jeffery, “I am very fond of encouraginglarning, and do all I can for it,except during the term, when I am soconstrupatedby lawyers, that I have no time. Never man was so tormented, yet,—it is not my fault; if they let me alone, I let them alone. I hardly ever am plaintiff, unless indeed it be infiling billsbut always defendant. If I happen to give an acceptance, and can employ my money to more advantage than paying it, isnot it extremely hard that I must be sued? I have lost at least five thousand pounds, where I should have gained with costs; but juries and judges are so unreasonable, and will hear what even strangers say of me, sooner than what my own intimates say, and confirm with an oath. I very lately lost, by an arbitration, a great sum, though I thought I had every thing cut and dry: I spoke to my brother the fruiterer to come as a witness; he did so, and brought his man with him. This evidence was a hollow thing; but what do you think of the arbitrator,—a counsellor too? Merely because my brother happened, out of forgetfulness,to say something contrary to what he had said before; from that time, I am convinced, he did not pay any regard to what he said.” “How do you know that, Mr. Lawhunt?” said Hamilton. “How do I know it,”replied the other, “because my brother swore point blank I did not owe the plaintiff one hundred pounds, and the arbitrator gave an award of seven hundred, and did not that prove how little they regarded Ned’s evidence?” addressing Hamilton. “Undoubtedly it did,” replied our hero. “But what was worse than that,” said Jeffery, “there was my own foreman, a good obliging fellow as ever lived, that would not stick at a trifle; he and I had a great deal of talk before, and we settled about his evidence. The first day he was called, it was on a Saturday; I remember he was very clear—all for me; plaintiff’s counsel did not ask him a single question. On the Sunday he dined with me; we were quite jocose.” “Dingwal,” said I, (his name is Donald Dingwal) “you did very well yesterday; but get through as well to-morrow, and wewill do.” “Why,” says he, “that Chiswick, Farragan’s council (Farragan was the plaintiff, a damned Scotch Highlander; ‘perhaps you know him, sir.’ ‘Oh, very well,’ said Hamilton) was not at all captious.” “With that I agreed; but what do you think? Chiswick was laying a trap all the time. Dingwal having finished what we had agreed, Chiswick began that damned cross-questioning, and dodged and winded the poor fellow so about, that on the Monday, as ill luck would have it, the poor man swore the direct contrary to what he had done on the Saturday. Chiswick had not lain by for nothing, and from the award, it was evident that the arbitrator believed my friend Dingwal against me, though he would not believe him for me. However, I cannot blame Dingwal; he had the good will, and if it had not been for Chiswick’s cross-questioning,would have been a most serviceable witness; and I must say, I before found him very obliging in his testimony; he went through like a hero when he was not so cross-examined. In the instance that I have just mentioned, I lost my cause; so you see I have had trials and tribulations in this world; nevertheless, I am a man of great property, and can afford to pay for a good commodity, in the literary line, as much as any man.” Mr. Lawhunt having favoured his two companions with this biographical sketch, then proceeded to business. “Dr. Scribble here,” says Mr. Lawhunt, “we all know to be a man of very extraordinary genius and larning. He has been a mentioning to me a plan of translating German books, of plays and histories, and philosophers, andluminies, and other pastimes, which he thinks would make very cleverbooks; and if any one can do the job, he is the hand; but I need not mention him to you,—you know Dr. Scribble.” “Yes, yes,” says Dicky, “he knows me.” “That I do,” replied Hamilton, “most thoroughly.” “And I will venture to say,” rejoined Scribble, “that he has a just value for me.” “That you may safely affirm,” said the other. “But,” continued the Doctor, “what we particularly want with you, is to do usjustice in the reviewsand conversation,by speaking very highlyof the work. I have already written a specimen; it is the translation of a play, one of the finest that ever entered into the human imagination to conceive; it is the story of Hurlobothrumbo, a Spanish hero, who sets off to the war with the Moors in Andalusia, with four attendants; he overcomes fifteen thousand, enters the city of the enemy alone, encounterstwenty thousand, formed in a hollow square, in one of their narrow streets.” “Very well,” said Hamilton, “that’s a good idea.” “He couches his lance, charges the first five thousand that extended across the lane; defeats them; takes the city by storm.” “That was a great hero,” said Jeffery. “Yes,” said Scribble, “I will defy any writer but a German to think of such a hero.” “Oh do not,” said Hamilton, “disparage our own country too much;—what think you of Drawcansir?” “You know, Hamilton,” said Scribble, with much pomposity, “I do not like jesting upon serious subjects; I have often given my admonitions upon that topic.” “Which I hold in due estimation,” replied Hamilton. “But you do not always attend to them,” rejoined Scribble, a little sharply. “That does not contradict my position,” said the other.Scribble taking this as a compliment, proceeded, “Hurlobothrumbo sets all the prisoners free, returns to his own country, finds his mistress confined in a castle, guarded by a thousand giants, with one more enormous and fierce than all the rest, breaks through seven iron gates, kills the head giant, and five hundred more. The five hundred and second, with the other four hundred and ninety-eight, disheartened by the fall of their master and companions, yield to the heroic conqueror. He learns that his old father is somewhere confined in a dungeon, that nobody knows where but the ghost of a female, that at midnight amuses herself with playing a pibrach upon a Scotch bagpipe, accompanied by two others, performing on the hurdy-gurdy and the Jew’s harp. It is said, by the now subjected giants, to be reported, that the head ghost will answerno questions, unless a tune is hit to her mind. Various airs had been tried, but to no effect. The hero swears he will venture, though a hundred ghosts assail. Midnight arrives, and a dark and gloomy night it is. Hurlobothrumbo goes to theoratory, which all know is the favourite walk[4]of ghosts, and there he meets the three apparitions; the head one in a white silk negligee and petticoat; the other two in muslin. The lady begins Rothie Murcus’s rant, that convinces Hurlo that she is fond of Scotch music, which he, having met among the Moors with a Highland fidler from Strathspey, thoroughly understands. Fortunately there is a fiddle at hand; he answers Rothie Murcus by Money Musk; the ghosts fall a dancing, from which he conceives a good omen. The head lady strikes up NancyDawson, and makes a motion for him to join in the reel. The intrepid Hurlo foots it with the head spectre, playing all the while; the hobgoblins, warm with the exercise, sit down upon a bench. The hero regales them with Moggy Lawder; Hobgoblina, delighted with this melodious air, rises, and is making a very low curtsey; but sinking too much, falls to the ground; quickly starting up, she speaks:
My boy has won: behold your granny’s ghost;Your hapless father is in durance vile;But now by thee his son shall be releas’d.Art thou the image of my grand-mamma?Said Hurlo to the dame, who answered, yes.And these the spectres of thy virgin aunts,At least maids deem’d:—Alas! not justly deem’d,For ah confessors are most dangerous men,So may Grizzelda from experience say:An Alguazil was chaste Susannah’s love.The maidens interrupted Mother Mum;Methinks a goblin need not be a blab;Revolve the wisdom of the English sage,Deliver’d after the dire fall of rug,In Molly’s garret, to his rival Jones;Acts there are most fitting to be done,Which are not fitting to be made a boast;Therefore, again, we say good Mother, mum,The proverb calls, dead men tell no tales,(To the virgins thus replied their mam)But must dead women also hold their tongues,And e’en when frailties of friends are known?’Tis very hard; but since it must be,—mum”
My boy has won: behold your granny’s ghost;Your hapless father is in durance vile;But now by thee his son shall be releas’d.Art thou the image of my grand-mamma?Said Hurlo to the dame, who answered, yes.And these the spectres of thy virgin aunts,At least maids deem’d:—Alas! not justly deem’d,For ah confessors are most dangerous men,So may Grizzelda from experience say:An Alguazil was chaste Susannah’s love.The maidens interrupted Mother Mum;Methinks a goblin need not be a blab;Revolve the wisdom of the English sage,Deliver’d after the dire fall of rug,In Molly’s garret, to his rival Jones;Acts there are most fitting to be done,Which are not fitting to be made a boast;Therefore, again, we say good Mother, mum,The proverb calls, dead men tell no tales,(To the virgins thus replied their mam)But must dead women also hold their tongues,And e’en when frailties of friends are known?’Tis very hard; but since it must be,—mum”
My boy has won: behold your granny’s ghost;Your hapless father is in durance vile;But now by thee his son shall be releas’d.Art thou the image of my grand-mamma?Said Hurlo to the dame, who answered, yes.And these the spectres of thy virgin aunts,At least maids deem’d:—Alas! not justly deem’d,For ah confessors are most dangerous men,So may Grizzelda from experience say:An Alguazil was chaste Susannah’s love.The maidens interrupted Mother Mum;Methinks a goblin need not be a blab;Revolve the wisdom of the English sage,Deliver’d after the dire fall of rug,In Molly’s garret, to his rival Jones;Acts there are most fitting to be done,Which are not fitting to be made a boast;Therefore, again, we say good Mother, mum,The proverb calls, dead men tell no tales,(To the virgins thus replied their mam)But must dead women also hold their tongues,And e’en when frailties of friends are known?’Tis very hard; but since it must be,—mum”
My boy has won: behold your granny’s ghost;
Your hapless father is in durance vile;
But now by thee his son shall be releas’d.
Art thou the image of my grand-mamma?
Said Hurlo to the dame, who answered, yes.
And these the spectres of thy virgin aunts,
At least maids deem’d:—Alas! not justly deem’d,
For ah confessors are most dangerous men,
So may Grizzelda from experience say:
An Alguazil was chaste Susannah’s love.
The maidens interrupted Mother Mum;
Methinks a goblin need not be a blab;
Revolve the wisdom of the English sage,
Deliver’d after the dire fall of rug,
In Molly’s garret, to his rival Jones;
Acts there are most fitting to be done,
Which are not fitting to be made a boast;
Therefore, again, we say good Mother, mum,
The proverb calls, dead men tell no tales,
(To the virgins thus replied their mam)
But must dead women also hold their tongues,
And e’en when frailties of friends are known?
’Tis very hard; but since it must be,—mum”
“I think, doctor, your ghosts speak blank verse.” “Oh yes, you would not have a ghost speak plain prose, would you?” “But when the Moors had Andalusia, how came the ladies to be acquainted with Tom Jones, which was not written for several centuries after? Are you not out in chronology?” “Pshaw, who the devil ever expected chronology in German literature; you might as well expect history, geography, or probability, which would entirely destroy the gigantesque.” “I admitthe justness of your remark, and stand corrected; but proceed, if you please, with your story.” “Thrumbo, the old lady, and themaidens, sally forth in quest of the father; the hero encounters no obstacles but iron bars, which he cracks like walnut-shells, until he reaches the kernel. The five hundred and one giants supposed dead, rise to the tune of ‘Up and war them a’ Willie,’ and by the enchanting melody, are made virtuous and holy. Hurlothrumbo marries his beloved Aldonazina, and with marriage and reformation the piece concludes.” “Well,” said Jeffery, “how do you like this production, Mr. Hamilton?” Before he could answer, “I will venture to speak for him,” said Dr. Scribble, “such a treat he has rarely enjoyed. This is a sample of our German plays, which must prove a most valuable accession to English dramatic literature,and poetry in general. Would your Murphys or your Vanburghs, and your Steeles and your Congreves, your Homes, your Rowes, your Southerns, or your Otway, equal this work?” “I dare say,” said Hamilton, “no production of theirs would ever resemble it; even Sheridan himself, if he were to try his hand, would not make it so pure; he certainly has astonishing genius, but I doubt if he were to try this German mode, with all his brilliancy of fancy, if he could make so unique a performance, and resolutely exclude from every scene and passage, nature, truth, and probability. This production, in it’s beginning, middle, and end, is thoroughly consistent. The incidents are all of a credibility, so nearly equal, that if the fancy can stretch so far as to take in one, it may swallow all the rest. The single captor of a strongly fortified townmight vanquish a thousand giants, crack iron bars like walnuts, or dance Rothie Murcus with his deceased grandmother.” “Yes,” said Scribble, “your criticism is right; it is thepure gigantesque.” “But how comes the German author to be so well acquainted with Scotch and English tunes?” “Oh, the tunes I introduce myself, in order to accommodate them to a British audience. I have several others in hand; in one, there is a new way of making love, or rather of introducing a lover to his mistress; and how do you think it is contrived?” “Faith I cannot say; though in this age of innovation, I should not be surprized, if a scheme were devised for making love after the fashion of the Irish sociables.” “But will you hear how they meet? A youth falls in love with a nun; she is closely guarded in the convent; he wishes an interview, buthow is it to be effected? He tries to bribe the servants; it will not do; to scale the walls—too steep and high; to get a rope-ladder, narrowly escapes being caught, but succeeds at last by——the ministration of an earthquake. There comes a convulsion so delicate and nice, as to make a chasm large enough for the lovers, without being seen by any body else.” “A most civil and accommodating earthquake, indeed,” said Hamilton. “The lovers meet every night, and continue in an adjoining grove till morning, and often repeat their interviews. The effects of the earthquake become daily more visible: but the morality is marvellous and gigantesque, as well as the fable. When it is obvious that poor Miss experiences the consequences of sentimental susceptibility, and is taken to task by the rest of the sisterhood, she admits the fact, butdenies guilt. She had found her lover a very pleasant youth; it was agreeable to benevolence to make such a youth happy, especially when she could make herself happy to boot; forms were mere inventions of priests, to subjugate the best and most delightful feelings of nature to their controul. Was it a crime, to add to the number of mankind? Here you have the liberal and expanded morality of the German drama. I could give you various instances of the superlative excellence of modern Germanic literature, on subjects of property, establishments, religious institutions, and many other topics; but the present samples shew the nature, objects, and character of the works which I wish to translate. Do not you think the infusion of German productions will tend very much to improve the literature and science of Britain, physical, moral, and political?”Hamilton made it a rule not to enter into disputes with persons, from whose knowledge and arguments he was sure he could derive neither valuable information nor instruction, and thence he had usually abstained from argumentation with Dr. Scribble. In the present instance, conceiving that there was no ground of apprehension that such incongruous absurdities could be favourably received by the vigorous and discriminating understandings of Englishmen, he thought that the publication would be perfectly harmless, would be little read, make no impression, and be speedily forgotten. For rapidly steering a literary bark to the gulph of oblivion, he knew no one could be better qualified than Dr. Scribble; indeed his very name had a Lethean effect, as it precluded the perusal of works, which a sight of the title-page associatedwith the idea of nonsense. “Do you mean,” said our hero, “to put your name to it, Doctor?” “Oh certainly,” inter-posed Lawhunt, “we must have the Doctor’s name.” “Yes,” said the Doctor, “my name will have it’s weight; I believe I have published more volumes than any man of my age.” “Especially,” remarked Hamilton, “first editions.” Lawhunt happening at this instant to go out, the Doctor said, “I do not like those kind of sneering animadversions, I have often hinted so.” “Come come, Scribby, do not be angry now.” “Nothing galls me so much as any reflection uponmy talents; I should rather you would think me wicked than dull; I have been always labouring not to be thought dull.” “And an up-hill work it is,” said Hamilton. “Now, sir, I will not bear that,” said Scribble, “curse me if I do.” “Do not let itget into a passion?” said Hamilton. “I must say you are an impertinent, insolent fellow,” replied Scribble. “Harkee, sir,” rejoined Hamilton, “whatever opinion I have entertained of you myself, I have religiously forborne delivering my sentiments, so as to affect your employment; the same forbearance I will now observe. Before this man, Lawhunt, I shall still abstain from expressing that opinion; but even from you, contempt will not suffer the insolent expressions that you have dared to use, or let them pass without suitable chastisement; till to-morrow morning I give you to think of the subject.” The courage of poor Scribble was much on a par with his bodily strength and mental abilities. He was beginning to make an apologetic speech, when Jeffery entered in considerable agitation, saying, he had seen a glimpse of two men thathe did not want to meet; he therefore requested Scribble to settle for him, as he could not wait to call for a bill, and before the other could answer, departed with great expedition, by a door that opened into a lane. The fact, it seems, was, in returning to the parlour, he had, through the glass door of the coffee-house, seen two persons reconnoitring the boxes. One of the persons he well knew, and in company with whom he had oftener been than he wished. Fortunately recollecting that one door of the back parlour afforded an escape by the lane, he had bolted that which communicated with the passage, so as to obstruct pursuit; and he had not been gone two minutes, when a rough voice called at the door, “open.” The waiter, comprehending the case, ran round the other way, and told the gentlemen, for God’s sake, if they wereafraid of bailiffs, to make haste away. They both assured him they were under no apprehensions. “Then sir,” said he, “if the other gentleman is safe, we had better open the door; but let us lock this door to keep back pursuit.” A very thundering knock with a foot now forced open the door, which was slight. Hamilton started from his seat, and as one fellow entered, in an angry tone demanded who they were, and what they wanted? “We want Lawhunt, and you are he,” said one of them, collaring Hamilton. Though the fellow was strong, yet the other was much stronger, and at one blow felled his assailant to the ground. The master had, meanwhile, been occupied with another gentleman, whom he had discovered in a corner box in the coffee-room, when the waiter, with much exultation, roared out, “By the Lord, the gentleman ismauling the catchpole.” The master hearing this intelligence, ran to the assistance of his follower, without considering his own engagement, and finding him prostrate at Hamilton’s feet, rashly attacked the conqueror, and in a few moments experienced the same fate. The room was now filled with spectators, and the fellows being brought to their senses, intimated a disposition, jointly, to assail an antagonist, to whom they had been, severally, so unequal; and to some menacing words, Hamilton coolly replied, “that they were the aggressors, he believed, in a mistake; but if they began again, he should have them severely punished, in two different actions, for forcible entrance, and assault.” The master now recollecting his acquaintance in the next room, hastily went out, and returning, called, “Jem, Jem, the prisoner is gone, let us haste away.”“But,” said the landlord, who knew the gentleman that he was pursuing, “you shall not hasten away, you have made a riot in my house, and one of you has broken open a lock;” and calling two watchmen, who were in waiting for the purpose, he gave charge of the two prisoners. The event of this business was fatal to the catchpole; the person arrested had writs in the office against him for two thousand pounds, on account of a security, into which he had been villainously trepanned. He had procured an appointment at Hamburgh, and was preparing that very night to set off for Yarmouth, and a chaise was in waiting to carry him to the first stage, to join the mail, when he conceived all his prospects blasted by the arrest; but when the fellow left him, he hastily entered his carriage, and drove at full speed to Stratford; reached Yarmouth;and found the packet just sailing. The bailiffs being detained in captivity till the next morning, for want of bail, were not able to take measures for pursuit, till it was too late. Proof was easily found by the plaintiff, that the defendant had actually been in custody; accordingly, recourse was had upon the sheriff,—the bailiff of course was ruined; to escape the Fleet, took to the highway, and from the Drop left a lesson to the brotherhood, to refrain from brutal execution of just and beneficial laws.
But to return from this episode. Dr. Scribble was much alarmed with the thoughts of Hamilton’s displeasure, and frightened, even to tremor, after beholding his terrible prowess; to avert his anger, he was willing to make the humblest concessions. Commencing a penitent and deprecatory speech, he was suddenly interrupted by our hero,who, shaking him cordially by the hand, told him to think no more of it, assuring him, that he should not himself, and acknowledged that he had rather been the aggressor, by his strictures upon Dr. Scribble’s talents and erudition. Quite delighted with this explanation, Scribble’s eyes sparkled; “and so you allow me, my dear Hamilton, to have extraordinary genius and learning.” “Yes, yes, I do; but suppose we have coffee, we have had wine enough,” “Oh, not yet,” says Scribble; “we must have another bottle for our reconciliation.” Hamilton never exceeded a bottle from choice; yet, when conviviality invited, could drink double the quantity, without intoxication; and now consented. They enjoyed themselves very sociably, conversing chiefly upon the adventure of the catchpoles; Scribble assuring Hamilton, he could have encounteredany of them with a small sword; but he believed they would have been an over-match for him at boxing. Without investigating this question, Hamilton said, he thought the most important part of the adventure to Scribble, was the object of the pursuit. “Do you think that this fellow, Lawhunt, can pay you for so voluminous a work as this must prove?” Scribble, archly winking, went and shut the door, which happened to be ajar: “Oh no, he will not be able to go through with it; but let him begin it, that’s enough, it will not be lost, Billy Nincompoop will take it up—Billy’s the man. If any one starts an idea, Bill out with his tablets—down with it—makes it his own. If any one broaches a new book, Billy out with another upon the same subject, like an opposition stage-coach, so that you will see that Nincompoop will be the chapfor German literature. I have engaged with this stupid beast, Lawhunt, for two volumes, and have got bills in advance.” “It would appear,” observed Hamilton, “from his own acknowledgement, that his bills are not very punctually honoured,” “Oh, I made allowance for that in our bargain; he agreed to fiftyper centmore than any body else could give.” “How did you manage that with him, Doctor?” “Very easily; I shall suppose a work worth a guineapersheet.” “Very moderate indeed.” “Oh it’s very good pay; if it were such as I would do for Bill for one guinea, I would ask Lawhunt two; he knowing nothing of the matter, being a low mechanic, and addicted to hagling, would chiefly bend his thoughts to beating me down. I, after much difficulty, would give up first half-a-crown, then another half-crown, at last, well, my good friend,Jeffery, you are an honourable man, but lower than the half guinea, by God, I will not go. He agrees, chuckling all the while, in the idea of having cheated me of half-a-guineapersheet, and I have the odd fiftyper cent.to meet the law expences that may occur in the recovery.” Scribble having thus explained his mode of bargaining, to his own thorough satisfaction, the conversation took a turn to some topic of the day, that required reference to an evening paper, in quest of which our hero proceeded to the coffee-room, when a voice called Hamilton, and turning, he beheld his admired friend, Dr. William Strongbrain. Telling him he was engaged in the next room with Doctor Scribble, “Scribble,” repeated Strongbrain, “a poor stupid animal; how the devil can you associate with that fellow?” “Never mind his stupidity now; butcome in for half an hour with us to the other room.” Strongbrain having agreed to this invitation, Hamilton recalled an order, which he had just given for coffee, and desired another bottle of Port to be substituted in it’s place. Strongbrain had been dining in a party, and like our hero, was exhilirated, without any approach to intoxication. Doctor Scribble was farther advanced: perceiving Strongbrain enter with Hamilton, Dr. Scribble ran up, took him by the hand, and expressed the pleasure he had in meeting with a man of so great ability; “I understand you are engaged in criticism, politics, history, and philosophy, and really your works, in several respects, meet my approbation. Let me recommend to you some essays that I am writing, and it will greatly improve your views, your arrangement, and language.” One of the predominant companionablequalities of Strongbrain, was good humour; the preceptorial directions, therefore, of Dr. Scribble, excited a good-natured smile; but no angry or indignant sensation. Scribble was suffered to talk, and grew greater and greater with every glass that he swallowed, till at last his greatness had a fallunder the table. Having consigned the learned Doctor to the care of the waiter, Hamilton and Strongbrain departed to their respective homes.