culous. It is from the predominance only of the one or the other feature, on particular occasions, and called forth by particular accidents, that each takes its hue of firmness or imbecility: and the same person may at one time appear the most silly, and at another, under new circumstances, the most penetrating and sensible of men. These observations are intended to establish a conclusion which seems naturally enough to flow from them, that the eccentricities, and even the vaccilations of human intellect, are not always to be brought forward to the disparagement of genius. On any one point it is surprising to see what a contrariety of opinions will be evinced in the society in question; nor can this discrepancy be tolerably conceived or accounted for, till the reader has been presented with the characters of the most leading personages.

TOPSEY deserves to occupy the first place, not less from the claim to precedence involved in his dignified cognomen, than from the superiority in years which he possesses over the rest of the company; having arrived at the sixty-third winter happily destined to sprinkle its frosts over his head without any diminution of the playfulness of his mind, or any material exhaustion of a constitution repeatedly subject to the attacks of the jolly god. He is descended from a race of ancestors, who by lineage, were all of them three-bottle men, a circumstance which discredits any account of the mischiefs of bacchanalianism, since his grandfather, he asserts, enjoyed sound health (though tipsey every night) to his eightieth year; and his father spun out his last twenty, with good ale alone, up to the age of ninety. The current of their wit, however, flowed in a clear stream through their veins to his, unpolluted with the taint of Port or Hock; and he is at this moment one of the most clever and sprightly men that ever drank a glass of wine, For wine, it is well known, is a prime refiner of the bolder thoughts, and a known stimulant of aspiring genius; and who cannot tell of the praises that poets and orators have lavished on it from the earliest times, and the

venerable antiquity of the custom still extant, of bathing in annual libations the Laurels awarded to the chief son of Phoebus. Habit has enabled Topsey to dispose of largestimulating draughts, without entrenching on the clearness of his wit; and he never was known to verify the appellation he bears, or make it an echo to the sense, by a downright prostration at the shrine of Bacchus. Though originally of good family, he was unfortunate in his early career of business, and does not, therefore, partake constantly of life's luxuries; but the cheerfulness of his temper blunts the edge of disappointment, and an attentive landlady, and a circle of indulgent friends, supply to him the usual comforts of wife and family. His conversation is remarkable for a plenitude of anecdote on every subject, a store of collected information about men and manners, and the universality it displays of elementary knowledge. His favourite topic of discourse is the "Riots of Eighty," and the composition which he prefers to all others, and exalts, in his enthusiasm, above Homer's Iliad itself, is. Burns's "Tam O'Shanter." He is very pertinacious in the opinion he forms: nothing can persuade him to think but that Wilkes was a fool, or allow that Sir William Draper's Letters are inferior to those of Junius. In conclusion, he never entered a company which he did not inspirit by his vivacity, please by his wit, and conciliate by his goodnature. He has, reader, but one fault in the critic's eye; he is fond of rum and

water.

The next is a youthful puritan, whose name is DERVISE, grave and stately as the dons of the sixteenth century, who is not one half the age of the last personage, but who has a face twice as long, and an eye twice as deep. He possesses good sense, and indulges a little in conversation; but, like the polar atmos phere, he freezes every thing which he touches by the caution in which he enshrouds himself, and the half measured opinion with which he re gards it. In literary acquirements his chief fort lies in mathematics and chemistry, though he makes

pretensions, perhaps not wholly groundless, to an acquaintance with letters and science in general. His distinguishing characteristic is that of banishing all passion and fervour from discourse, of calculating coldly the good qualities of a work which you condemn, and the defects of a composition which extorts the tribute of your unqualified admiration. By thus modifying the merits and demerits of every character, and of every subject, he obtains the reputation of a most discreet person; and by the solemnity of his countenance and voice, and his usual silence, imposes on the world an idea of his great experience. It must be said, however, that his moral aphorisms are very stale, and his ethical notions of fitness and propriety quite common-place.

The nature of such a man's mind excludes the possibility of his forming a passionate attachment for any particular object: yet it may not be amiss to mention, that he too has his prejudices, which are evinced when he acknowledges, that if any production of man deserves praise more than another, the Letters of Junius, which I have had occasion to name, leave all other human compositions in any language far behind them.

I shall now allude to a person who is not without his value in the society, but presents, perhaps, a more ridiculous figure than any other member. His name is CARTILAGE: his figure long and thin, his address uncouth, and his face saintly, and as straight as one of his own busts of plaster of Paris. He is the most legitimate pedant since the reign of Dr. Johnson, not, indeed, from extent or profundity of acquirements like his, but from talking with a loud and overbearing voice, composing every colloquial sentence as though dictating for the press, incessantly recurring to topics of science, of which he knows little, and running over the whole gamut of technical phraseology. It may be wondered what can constitute the value I assigned him; but the fact is, he can reiterate the sentiments he has borrowed from some newly-read book with tolerable precision, and discourse with heart

burning eloquence on an excoriated knuckle, or a blood-shot eye. Re port, however, says, that once, on laying open a living rat, in the course of an anatomical lecture which he was giving the society, when I was absent, he took up a nerve by mistake, instead of the femoral artery, by which he put the unoffending animal into the most exquisite torture. Scandal says

many things. I say nothing.

His acquaintance with polite literature is very confined, and the authors who are in his good graces are too few to enable him to form a diversified choice; but I declare to you, gentle reader, as a secret, that he one day told me very solemnly, and without a smile, that for his part, on mature reflection, hethought Homer and Virgil were the finest poets in the world!

But I have dwelt long enough on the dry and barren wastes of pedantry, and go to refresh my mind with the contemplation of a personage, in every respect the most attracting in the company. His name is DAL RYMPLE: So the recording hand of story vouchsafes to convey to pos terity the character of a man who comprises wit, learning, and good humour. Spirit of exalted mould! let me do justice to thy talents, and thy virtues; and tell the world, that if knowledge and worth of an exalted character, could have put fortune in thy power, and placed success at thy feet, thou wouldst have been great and happy. He is now in the very prime and vigour of manhood, with a mighty, yet playful mind, (like the lion dandling the creature it could destroy) and with a body grown up to that plenitude of animal strength, which two years more will begin to encumber with the failings of declining life. In the earlier part of his existence his fortunes were erratic, and his destinies long unfixed; till foreign hospitalty moored the vessel of his fate, and love bowed down the colours which before had floated to every gale. He is since become a resident within the precincts of the society, and indulges in moderate competence, his propensity to lite rary amusements. He has derived from nature a fertile vein of plea

santry, chastened by the most refined and delightful humour. His early acquaintance with various life has supplied him with a diversity of information, an extensive acquaintance with books, and a happy promptitude of classical illustration. He is, in short, a complete literary man. He has added much to the current literature of his country by his services to the conductors of occasional publications, not to name his private poetical effusions, and a volume compiled of his writings, on a plan which, if it ever be adopted, must at once edify and amuse the public. In the Canobium he is distinguished by a clear and forcible expression of his sentiments, and in a language too which soars above others in aptitude and propriety. There is in his notions of honour and generosity, a tenderness of sentiment equally worthy the hero and the christian. His features are expressive of a cultivated mind, and mark an understanding often exercised on subjects of depth and reflection. There is a laughing intelligence ever playing about his eyes, which convinces the beholder, that it is the expression of a mind that cannot sometimes avoid revelling in the consciousness of its own superiority, and evinces how well qualified its possessor is to seize on the humourous points in every object. The latter effect is not weakened by a twitching of one eye to which he is become accustomed, and which, it must not be denied, adds pungency to the keenest satires of his tongue.

A planet so brilliant can scarcely have specks which its brightness will not overpower or conceal; yet this orb has an eccentricity in its motions, which prevents a confidence in its consistency, and diminishes the benefit of its irradiation. It is too subject to the librations peculiar to lunar and lunatic bodies, and is not sufficiently obsequious to the influence of gravity. His resolution and his tastes will change twenty times in an hour; and he now dares to place as little dependance in prospect, on the stability of his intentions, as other people are willing to allow to them. The sentiment of Horace, expressed of himself in

Rome's meridian, may be paraphrased with double propriety with regard to Dalrymple. The countryman delights in London, the Londoner in the country.

Owing to the several traits in his character above delineated, he has never been able to establish any definite idea of literary excellence in his mind, for his enthusiasm hurries away his judgment, and his irresolution is ever unsettling his choice.

He is generally attended to the society by a friend, his fidus achates, who advances side by side with him, but who is far from possessing a parity of merit, and is much his inferior in the captivating departments of character. Their feelings are congenial, but in all other respects so striking is the difference of temperament, that it is matter of surprise so strict a friendship should subsist between them. Dalrymple is sanguine and enthusiastic, ANTONIO slow and low spirited :the former is fond of motion, unthinking and open: the latter averse to gaity, ever methodical and cautious, though not suspicious. The one is a man of talent, the other merely a man of sense. His friend, however, has discovered in Antonio a certainty of conduct, an adherence to his promise, and a constancy of attachment, which have called forth his esteem, and taught him to look deeper than the surface for the better qualities of his nature. Many have not hesitated to assign him a large portion of goodnature; and I know that he has such strong natural impressions of duty, that he never diverges from it without the most rigid remonstrances of his internal monitor. From the temperament of his constitution he cannot succeed in the spirit of mimicry, or the sportiveness of gaiety; and he has the prudence not to attempt any thing which he cannot perform successfully. He possesses a remarkable gravity of face, and sallowness of aspect, and wears the appearance of a much greater age than really belongs to him. His features, at the same time, are softened with a shade of pensive melancholy; and a forehead deeply wrinkled, seems to indicate a man of strong natural passions whose thoughts have been

habitually exercised on matters of weight, who has put his mind many years on the rack of unreal distress, and who, often offending and often repenting, has scourged his conscience with that severe scrutiny which arises from his practical knowledge of human frailty. His countenance, however, is expressive of varied emotions, and is always an index to the immediate operations of his mind and the influences to which it is subject. The prevailing hue of his mind is sombre and sad, and should he by any chance aspire to hilarity, he reasons on puns like a mechanical casuist, laughs like a cynic with forced complaisance, and hammers at jokes like a blacksmith, ponderously and clumsily. Of his aver sions, of which every man has some, his greatest is an open door. From the general regularity of his habits, and his impatience of bustle, it has long been the opinion, that he is destined to be an old bachelor; but in conversation he is loud on the horrors of celibacy, and is ever extolling the supreme happiness of married life. The truth is, he is of a temper too much discontented with any present condition.

I have observed in him one feature which I think has escaped the notice of everybody else; and that is, that there is, in all his actions, an unbaffled steadiness in his purpose, and a ceaseless determination to carry his point. This thorough pacedness has communicated itself to his pleasures as well as his labours; and he runs through the business of relaxation with earnestness, because he has deliberated and resolved upon it.

In his literary predilections he has disclaimed the pretensions of poetry to the rank of those works that redound to the general profit of mankind, and are subservient to the great realities of life. Into this place he has elevated prose writings alone, and at the top of the column of books that adorns his library, the sculptured bust of Dr. Johnson, with Rasselas for its base, looks down upon the author's below it, in token of the owner's undivided admiration.

A worthy member of the Triumvirate, in which the two last are conjoined, is RossLYN, who is also their

ours.

coadjutor in the combination they have found it necessary to form in the society; for I should have informed the reader, that parties exist, even in an assemblage so united as The two principal divisions which deserve to be mentioned, resolve themselves into the Speculative Party, and the Matter-of-fact Party, which so clearly explain their respective characters by the term assigned to each, that I shall think any further mention of them in this place unnecessary. The gentleman whom I now propose to describe is by family a Scotchman, by nature a man of feeling, and by education a man of science. He is a person of plain unperverted sense, not unrefined by sentiment; a good linguist, of strong principles, and excellent dispositions. He has an understanding that grapples closely with every subject introduced, and he objects to speak on none, except questions of metaphysical subtilty, which he abhors; and on all subjects on which he delivers his sentiments, he uses forcible language and wellchosen illustrations, which flow with tolerable smoothness, and find, perhaps, an easier access by means of a slight tincture of dialect, and an apparent ingenuousness of temper. He is a happy husband, and the father of eight or ten children. He possesses much goodnature, and is sincere in all his friendships, though rather tender on fancied points of honour.

He has cominunicated several scientific discoveries to publications which are the professed repositories of science; yet notwithstanding his prowess in this department, he is more naturally attached to the verdant glades of literature. In these regions his preference is given to that speculative species of writing that makes human nature the subject of its contemplations, and on this account the name of La Bruyère ever awakes the idolatry of his soul.

Another associated colleague of Dalrymple, whose talents, above all others, are

LUCIUS. Not a pun or quibble can elude or escape the torture of his merciless fangs, ever in search of the gay and the amusing bubbles in the atmosphere of fun, and regardless of the consideration due to the friend whom they sacrifice. Let history hereafter tell, O! gifted Lucius, how thou hast decked and beautified the exterior of literature, how thou hast vindicated the tenets of our religion, and how thou hast advanced thy patriotic foot to protect the standard of thy country's liberties! Let not detraction with her pen of gall tell of thy follies, thy frivolities, and thy fashions nor how thy courtly tongue hunts down every metaphor suggested by the creations of fancy to grace thy discourse, or how skilful thou art in framing those perfumed sentences whose sole object is to produce effect. Be it thy praise, O! amiable comrade, in the teeth of all that is sage and philosophical, to have united the greatest conceit with the finest talents!

.. I should fail in my duty if I omitted to mention and to eulogize the learned HALIFAX, the patron and assistant of young geniuses, and the radical reformer of all literary abuses. I know not whether he be constantly more employed in reading or in writing, in acquiring or dispensing. His or dinary step seems indeterminate, his eyes are turned inward, his head the heavy magazine of antiquarian lore, and his pen assuredly the pen of a ready writer. What of Fletcher, and Wycherley, and Mas singer, he can tell, let no man mention, lest he suffer for his garrulity in having his ignorance exposed, and the whole English Drama unmasked on his astonished eyes. Fix him but on a sofa, harp his machinery aright, wind him up with some sherry, put him upon some subject of ancient learning, and in about an hour you shall hear him begin to pour forth the entire scheme and system of the Belles Lettres, in as full and voluible a stream as ever saluted your ears. Well, had not either Astrea claimed thy devo tions, or fame enchanted thy pen, then hadst thou composed the contentions of living disputants, instead of indulging in Retrospective vi

sions, or adjusting the scale of precedence between the departed cham pions of polemical literature!

The young TERTULLUS is his most favoured friend, proud to be known to have his countenance, and grateful for his numberless good offices. He is one of those youthful aspirants to fame, who, if prudence do but direct him, will attain one of the highest pinnacles in Apollo's temple, and if she do not, will be elevated to one of the loftiest garrets in Paternoster-row. There is this strange incongruity in his character, that while his writing is always, at the least, respectable, his conversation impresses one with nothing but the idea of puerility and vacancy. He seems born to be the reviver of Rome's Lyric Bards: some assert that he raises them up only to out rival them, others that it results from the nature of his disposition, terrified by no project, and dissa tisfied with no performance. Time will shew whether he is designed to be a novelist, an essayist, or a ballad-writer: he is certainly one of the most rising geniuses in our society, and seems to descend unne cessarily from himself, when he re sorts to the subterfuge of plagiarism Sir Thomas Brown is the model whom he praises most in speculation; but the Bard of Ireland is the writer whose muse is really his admiration, and whose style he cultivates.

BALBO has a claim to mention, on the ground of some peculiarities, by which he is distinguished in manner and language. Unblessed in form, ungifted in speech, he yet makes pre tensions to an acquaintance with every subject, writes on many, and talks on all. The "Non quicquid tetigit non ornavit" does not, how ever, apply to him, since his incom petence disfigures most things, and his prolixity spoils all. His style is more of a florid cast than any other, marked by an affectation of coarse and extravagant metaphors, which he mistakes for poetical imagery. He has taken under his wings a puny unfledged witling, emptier than himself, who never opened his mouth in debate since he had no thought to utter, but whom he kindly assists in his writing exigences, with materials which shew too plainly the quarter from which