we venture to
say who never received a love-letter, valentines excepted, in all her
innocent days.--A fat man sitting by himself in a gig! somewhat red in
the face, as if he had dined early, and not so sure of the road as his
horse, who has drunk nothing but a single pailful of water, and is
anxious to get to town that he may be rubbed down, and see oats once
more.--Scamper away, ye joyous schoolboys, and, for your sake, may that
cloud breathe forth rain and breeze, before you reach the burn, which
you seem to fear may run dry before you can see the Pool where the
two-pounders lie.--Methinks we know that old woman, and of the first
novel we write she shall be the heroine.--Ha! a brilliant bevy of
mounted maidens, in riding-habits, and Spanish hats, with "swaling
feathers"--sisters, it is easy to see, and daughters of one whom we
either loved, or thought we loved; but now they say she is fat and
vulgar, is the devil's own scold, and makes her servants and her husband
lead the lives of slaves. All that we can say is, that once on a time it
was _tout une autre chose_; for a smaller foot, a slimmer ankle, a more
delicate waist, arms more lovely, reposing in their gracefulness beneath
her bosom, tresses of brighter and more burnished auburn--such starlike
eyes, thrilling without seeking to reach the soul--But phoo! phoo! phoo!
she married a jolter-headed squire with two thousand acres, and, in
self-defence, has grown fat, vulgar, and a scold.--There is a Head for a
painter! and what perfect peace and placidity all over the Blind Man's
countenance! He is not a beggar although he lives on alms--those
sightless orbs ask not for charity, nor yet those withered hands, as,
staff-supported, he stops at the kind voice of the traveller, and tells
his story in a few words. On the ancient Dervise moves, with his long
silvery hair, journeying contentedly in darkness towards the eternal
light.--A gang of gypsies! with their numerous assery laden with
horn-spoons, pots, and pans, and black-eyed children. We should not be
surprised to read some day in the newspapers, that the villain who leads
the van had been executed for burglary, arson, and murder. That is the
misfortune of having a bad physiognomy, a sidelong look, a scarred
cheek, and a cruel grin about the muscles of the mouth; to say nothing
about rusty hair protruding through the holes of a brown hat, not made
for the wearer--long, sinewy arms, all of one thickness, terminating in