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On the University of Glasgow.

"There is one trait in the Doctor's character, which for its amiableness, deserves to be mentioned with respect-I mean his affability to the students, and his constant readiness to promote their interests. Those will be best able to appreciate this estimable quality who have formed their notions of professorial importance, from the measured strut and curved line attitude-the low bow and steady gaze of admiration, to all and each of which they are obliged to pay so much attention, in their approaches to certain of their academical superiors.

"There is one other circumstance, to which I meant to have spoken, viz. the impropriety of placing the Natural Philosophy before the Logic, but as I have got to the bottom of my sheet, I must refer you to some observations on this subject, in Chap. vi. Sect. 7th, of Mr. Stewart's first volume.

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The passage referred to is as follows:"To prevent any danger from this quarter, I apprehend that the study of the mind, should form the last branch of the education of youth; an order which nature herself seems to point out, by what I have already remarked, with respect to the developement of our own faculties. After the understanding is well stored with particular facts, and has been conversant with particular scientific pursuits, it will be enabled to speculate concerning its own powers with additional advantage, and will run no hazard of indulging too far in such enquiries. Nothing can be more absurd, on this, as well as on many other accounts, than the common practice which is followed in our Universities, of beginning a course of Philosophical education, with the study of Logic. If this order were completely reversed; and if the study of Logic were delayed till after the mind of the student was well stored with particular facts in physics, in chemistry, in natural and civil · history; his attention might be led with the most important advantage, and without any danger to his power of observation, to an examination of his own faculties; which besides opening to him a new and pleasing field of speculation, would enable him to form an estimate of his own powers, of the acquisitions he has made, of the habits he has formed, and of the farther improvements of which his mind is susceptible."

Manse of Bogton, 15th April, 1819.


The Port-folio-The Value of a Waterloo Medal-Modern Title-page.

The Port-Folio.

A thing of shreds and patches. Hamlet.

The value of a Waterloo Medal.A Frenchman meeting an English soldier with a Waterloo medal, began sneeringly to animadvert on our Government for bestowing such a trifle, which did not cost them three francs. "That is true, to be sure," replies the hero, it did not cost the English Government three francs, but it cost the French a Napolean!


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Modern Title-page. The Trial of Antichrist, otherwise the Man of sin, for high treason against the Son of God; tried at the Session's House of Truth, before the Right Hon. Divine Revelation, Lord Chief Justice of his Majesty's court of Equity, the Hon. Justice Reason of the said court, and the Hon. Justice History, one of the Justices of his Majesty's court of Information.Taken in short-hand by a friend to St. Paul.

Singular agreement between the names of celebrated Painters, and the subjects executed by them, at the Millerian Exhibition.View on the Sea Coast, by Beach-y. Siege of Troy, by Ten-iers. Copy of Sir J. Reynold's Laughing Girl, Smirkie. A Country Ball, Dance. Riot at Covent Garden Theatre, O-pie. Game, Bird. Pigs, Bacon. Gathering Hemp,


A Rapartee. Atterbury, Bishop of Rochester, when a cer tain bill was brought into the House of Lords, said among other things, "That he prophesied last winter this bill would be attempted in the present session, and he was sorry to find he had proved a true prophet." My Lord Coningsby, who spoke after the Bishop, and always spoke in a passion, desired the House to remark, "that one of the Right Reverend had set himself forth as a prophet; but for his part he did not know what prophet to liken him to unless to that furious prophet Balaam, who was reproved by his own Ass." The Bishop, in a reply, with great wit and calmness exposed this rude attack, concluding thus: "Since the Noble Lord has discovered in our

An Obstinate Fellow-A Caution-The Waudered Ass, &c.

manners such a similitude, I am well content to be compared to the prophet Balaam: but, my Lords, I am at a loss how to make out the other part of the parallel; I am sure I have been reproved by nobody but his Lordship."

An obstinate Fellow.-A tall fellow standing in the pit a few nights ago at the Hibernian theatre, Dublin, was repeatedly intreated to sit down, but would not; when a voice from the upper gallery called out, "Let him alone, honey, he's a tailor, and is resting himself."

A Caution. A gentleman having written a letter but left no room for the seal, by way of caution added a Postscript in the inside: "In opening this letter be very cautious." Like this was the stone placed in a river with the inscription, "When this stone is out of sight, it is not safe to ford the river."

The Wandered Ass.-There resides in Braidwood, a remote village of East Lothian, an old wife, who for a livelihood, gathers eggs about the country. An ass which she keeps happened to stray one day: the anxious owner Mrs. Balaam went in search of the wanderer, when falling in with the Lieutenant of a signal station upon a neighbouring eminence, she, with natural simplicity, asked him, "Have you seen my ass?" He in high dudgeon answered, "What have I to do with your ass?" To which she replied, (pointing to the signal post,)" Was na ye set there to spy ferlies?"

A Bon Mot of Cromwell's-When Cromwell and General Lambert were following the army that was going to chastise the Scots, the people expressed the utmost satisfaction, and wished them success. Lambert upon that said to Cromwell, he was glad to see they had the nation on their side. Cromwell answered, "Do not trust to that, for these very persons would shout as much if you and I were going to be hanged."

A Passionate Man.-A gentleman's footman desired to be dismissed: 66 Why do you leave me?" said he.-" Because, to say the truth I cannot bear your temper." To be sure I am passionate, but my passion is no sooner on than it is off." "Yes," replied the footman," "but it is no sooner off than it

is on.

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Poetry-To Miss



It was not love-that made me feel
The parting words that said, we sever
As two strange souls, whose wo or weal,
It wrecks not, we can hear of never
Like ice fall on my heart-alas!

The years of sorrow that display
The earnest of those gone, shall pass
Unbrightened by its beam;
And all its joys that lightly play
In others' hopes, and bid their day
In sweetest sunshine glide away,

Have fled from me-a dream.

It was not love-this lonely heart
Has given its love away for ever,
And all that grace and soul impart

To angel form can bring it never.
Yes! she-oh she!-this tear-drop tells
How sacred is her memory here
Shrined in the wreck of all that swells
The rapture of fond youth---

She, lovely star, so mild and clear,
Alone can give a blessed ray
To mark adown life's upgone way
The scene of love and truth.

It was not love-but thou didst plead
The sufferer's due, a tender tear
In seal of sympathy-Indeed

Thou hadst it: for, how long was here

The tone of feeling sad as thine!
And 'twas a cursed aim to cast

A blight o'er all thy hopes, and twine
Dishonour with thy name.

Oh! could not all thy sorrows past,
The orphan's lot, thy innocence
And virtue, ev'n the recompence
Of pity, comfort claim?

And it was sweet to pour the balm
Of peace into thy soul, to show

Wallace's Tower.

The lesson of thy woes, and calm
With blessed hope thy fears-and oh !
When freed from thraldom, and when vain
Were threats and wiles to win thy stay,
Twas joy to see thy heart regain

So soon its native gladness;
And all thy sorrows melt away
As those of saints who rise to bliss,
Nor leave to mock, a friend's caress
One ling'ring trace of sadness.

And when thou wert gone forth again
To the wide world—with nought of art,
Nor fame, nor wealth, it's grace to gain;
All guiltless and untaught thy heart,
And few, though not thy wrongs, thy years-
'Twas a fond hope of such, the dark
And scowling front my fortune wears
Doth tell how few are giv'n,

The spreading of thy hopes to mark,
The feeling of my fate to lose

In thine, to learn thy joys, fears, woes-
And trace thy path to heaven.

That hope is gone-yet still thou hast,
And ever wilt have, sacred here,

A thought to bliss thee: though thou cast
Oblivion between, I'll wear

A blessing ever with thy name:-
And oft the sigh of other years,
Of hopes and joys that went or came
It's sacredness shall tell.

Oh! there is what nor sighs, nor tears,
Nor trembling lip, nor changing cheek
Betoken, could the heart but speak
As feel its last Farewell!

April, 1819,


Ah! noble the thought and gen'rous the deed,
And worthy the sons of the free,

Theirs be the honour and theirs be the meed,
And song of the Bard's minstrelsy:

For distant the day when Scotia's bold son
Atchiev'd the great deeds of his fame;

J. F.

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