TO

STEPHEN WOOLRICHE, ESQ.

MY DEAR WOOLRICHE,

It is now about seven years since I promised (and I grieve to think it is almost as long since we met) to dedicate to you the very first Book, of whatever size or kind, I should publish. Who could have thought that so many years would elapse, without my giving the least signs of life upon the subject of this important promise? Who could have imagined that a volume of doggerel, after all, would be the first offering that Gratitude would lay upon the shrine of Friendship?

If you continue, however, to be as much interested about me and my pursuits as formerly, you will be happy to hear that doggerel is not my only occupation; but that I am preparing to throw my name to the Swans of the Temple of Immortality', leaving it, of course, to the said Swans to determine, whether they ever will take the trouble of picking it from the stream.

In the meantime, my dear Woolriche, like an orthodox Lutheran, you must judge of me rather by my faith than my works; and however trifling the tribute which I here offer, never doubt the fidelity with which I am, and always shall be, Your sincere and attached Friend, THE AUTHOR.

March 4, 1813.

PREFACE.

THE Bag, from which the following Letters are selected, was dropped by a Twopenny Postman about two months since, and picked up by an emissary of the Society for the Suppression of Vice,

1 Ariosto, canto 35.

who, supposing it might materially assist the private researches of that Institution, immediately took it to his employers, and was rewarded handsomely for his trouble. Such a treasury of secrets was worth a whole host of informers; and ac cordingly, like the Cupids of the poet (if I may use so profane a simile) who "fell at odds about the sweet-bag of a bee," those venerable Sup pressors almost fought with each other for the honour and delight of first ransacking the PostBag. Unluckily, however, it turned out, upon examination, that the discoveries of profligacy which it enabled them to make, lay chiefly in those upper regions of society, which their well-bred regulations forbid them to molest or meddle with. In consequence, they gained but very few victims by their prize, and, after lying for a week

or two under Mr. Hatchard's counter, the Bag with its violated contents, was sold for a trifle to a friend of mine.

It happened that I had been just then seized with an ambition (having never tried the strengt of my wing but in a Newspaper) to publish something or other in the shape of a Book; and i occurred to me that, the present being such a letter-writing era, a few of these Twopenny-Post Epistles, turned into easy verse, would be as light and popular a task as I could possibly select for a commencement. I did not, however, think it prdent to give too many Letters at first, and, ascordingly have been obliged (in order to eke out a sufficient number of pages) to reprint some of those trifles, which had already appeared in the public journals. As in the battles of ancient times, the shades of the departed were sometimes sem among the combatants, so I thought I might manage to remedy the thinness of my ranks by conjuring up a few dead and forgotten ephemerons to fill the

Such are the motives and accidents that led 10 the present publication; and as this is the first time my Muse has ever ventured out of the go-cart | of a Newspaper, though I feel all a parent's delight

2 Herrick.

at seeing little Miss go alone, I am also not without a parent's anxiety, lest an unlucky fall should be the consequence of the experiment; and I need not point out how many living instances might be found, of Muses that have suffered very severely in their heads, from taking rather too early and rashly to their feet. Besides, a Book is so very different a thing from a Newspaper!- in the former, your doggerel, without either company or shelter, must stand shivering in the middle of a bleak page by itself; whereas, in the latter, it is comfortably backed by advertisements, and has sometimes even a Speech of Mr. St-ph-n's, or something equally warm, for a chauffe-pié-so that, in general, the very reverse of "laudatur et alget" is its destiny.

Ambition, however, must run some risks, and I shall be very well satisfied if the reception of these few Letters should have the effect of sending me to the Post-Bag for more.

BY A FRIEND OF THE AUTHOR.

In the absence of Mr. Brown, who is at present on a tour through- —, I feel myself called upon, as his friend, to notice certain misconceptions and misrepresentations, to which this little volume of Trifles has given rise.

In the first place, it is not true that Mr. Brown has had any accomplices in the work. A note, indeed, which has hitherto accompanied his Preface, may very naturally have been the origin of such a supposition; but that note, which was merely the coquetry of an author, I have, in the present edition, taken upon myself to remove, and Mr. Brown must therefore be considered (like the mother of that unique production, the Centaur, μόνα και μονον') as alone responsible for the whole contents of the volume.

In the next place it has been said, that in consequence of this graceless little book, a certain distinguished Personage prevailed upon another distinguished Personage to withdraw from the author that notice and kindness with which he had so long and so liberally honoured him. In this story there is not one syllable of truth. For the magnanimity of the former of these persons I would, indeed, in no case answer too rashly: but

1 Pindar. Pyth. 2. My friend certainly cannot add our' exisser yepao tepov.

2 Bishop of Case Nigræ, in the fourth century.

1 A new reading has been suggested in the original of the Ode of Horace, freely translated by Lord Eld-n, page 570. In the line

of the conduct of the latter towards my friend, I have a proud gratification in declaring, that it has never ceased to be such as he must remember with indelible gratitude;-a gratitude the more cheerfully and warmly paid, from its not being a debt incurred solely on his own account, but for kindness shared with those nearest and dearest to him. To the charge of being an Irishman, poor Mr. Brown pleads guilty; and I believe it must also be acknowledged that he comes of a Roman Catholic family: an avowal which I am aware is decisive of his utter reprobation, in the eyes of those exclusive patentees of Christianity, so worthy to have been the followers of a certain enlightened Bishop, Donatus, who held "that God is in Africa and not elsewhere." But from all this it does not necessarily follow that Mr. Brown is a Papist; and, indeed, I have the strongest reasons for suspecting that they, who say so, are somewhat mistaken. Not that I presume to have ascertained his opinions upon such subjects. All I profess to know of his orthodoxy is, that he has a Protestant wife and two or three little Protestant children, and that he has been seen at church every Sunday, for a whole year together, listening to the sermons of his truly reverend and amiable friend, Dr. -, and behaving there as well and as orderly as most people.

There are vet a few other mistakes and falsehoods about Mr. Brown, to which I had intended, with all becoming gravity, to advert; but I begin to think the task is quite as useless as it is tiresome. Misrepresentations and calumnies of this sort are, like the arguments and statements of Dr. Duigenan, -not at all the less vivacious or less serviceable to their fabricators, for having been refuted and disproved a thousand times over. They are brought forward again, as good as new, whenever malice or stupidity may be in want of them; and are quite as useful as the old broken lantern, in Fielding's Amelia, which the watchman always keeps ready by him, to produce, in proof of riotous conduct, against his victims. I shall therefore give up the fruitless toil of vindication, and would even draw my pen over what I have already written, had I not promised to furnish my publisher with

a Preface, and know not how else I could contrive to eke it out.

I have added two or three more trifles to this

edition, which I found in the Morning Chronicle, and knew to be from the pen of my friend. The rest of the volume remains in its original state. April 20, 1814.

"Sive per Syrteis iter æstuosas," it is proposed, by a very trifling alteration, to read "Surtees," instead of "Syrteis," which brings the Ode, it is said, more home to the noble translator, and gives a peculiar force and aptness to the epithet "æstuosas." I merely throw out this emendation for the learned, being unable myself to decide upon its merits.

INTERCEPTED LETTERS,

&c.

LETTER I.

FROM THE PR-NC-SS CH-RL-E OF W-L-8 TO THE LADY B-RB-A ASHL—Y.'1

My dear Lady Bab, you'll be shock'd, I'm afraid, When you hear the sad rumpus your Ponies have made;

Since the time of horse-consuls (now long out of date),

No nags ever made such a stir in the state.
Lord Eld-n first heard-and as instantly pray'd
he
[Lady
To" God and his King"-that a Popish young
(For though you've bright eyes and twelve thousand
a year,

It is still but too true you're a Papist, my dear,)
Had insidiously sent, by a tall Irish groom,
Two priest-ridden Ponies, just landed from Rome,
And so full, little rogues, of pontifical tricks,
That the dome of St. Paul's was scarce safe from

The Doctor, and he, the devout man of Leather, V-ns-tt-t, now laying their Saint-heads together,

Declare that these skittish young a-bominations Are clearly foretold in Chap. vi. RevelationsNay, they verily think they could point out the

one

Which the Doctor's friend Death was to canter upon.

Lord H-rr-by, hoping that no one imputes To the Court any fancy to persecute brutes, Protests, on the word of himself and his cronies, That had these said creatures been Asses, not Ponies,

The Court would have started no sort of objection, As Asses were, there, always sure of protection.

"If the Pr-nc-ss will keep them (says Lerd C-stl-r-gh),

"To make them quite harmless, the only true

There's some parts of the Turkish system
So vulgar, 'twere as well you miss'd 'em.
For instance-in Seraglio matters
Your Turk, whom girlish fondness flatters,
Would fill his Haram (tasteless fool!)
With tittering, red-cheek'd things from school.
But here (as in that fairy land,

Where Love and Age went hand in hand;"
Where lips, till sixty, shed no honey,
And Grandams were worth any money,)
Our Sultan has much riper notions-
So, let your list of she-promotions

Mysterious Isle, in the History of Abdalla, Son of Hanif, where such inversions of the order of nature are said to have taken place. -"A score of old women and the same number of old men played here and there in the court, some at chuck-farthing, others at tipcat or at cockles."- And again, "There is nothing, believe me, more engaging than those lovely wrinkles," &c. &c. - See Tales of the East, vol. iii. pp. 607,608.

Include those only, plump and sage, Who've reach'd the regulation-age; That is, (as near as one can fix From Peerage dates) full fifty-six.

This rule's for fav'rites-nothing more-For, as to wives, a Grand Signor, Though not decidedly without them. Need never care one curse about them.

LETTER III.

FROM G-GE PR-CE R-G-T TO THE E OF Y —TH.'

WE miss'd you last night at the "hoary old sinner's,"

Who gave us, as usual, the cream of good dinners;
His soups scientific- his fishes quite prime-
His pâtés superb-and his cutlets sublime!
In short, 'twas the snug sort of dinner to stir a
Stomachic orgasm in my Lord El-b-gh,
Who set to, to be sure, with miraculous force,
And exclaim'd, between mouthfuls, "a He-Cook
of course!-

"While you live-(what's there under that cover? pray, look)

"While you live-(I'll just taste it) ne'er keep a She-Cook.

""Tis a sound Salic Law-(a small bit of that

toast)

"Which ordains that a female shall ne'er rule the

roast;

More good things were eaten than said-but
Tom T-rrh-t

In quoting Joe Miller, you know, has some merit;
And, hearing the sturdy Justiciary Chief
Say-sated with turtle-“I'll now try the beef”—
Tommy whisper'd him (giving his Lordship a sly
hit)

"I fear 'twill be hung-beef, my Lord, if you try it!"

And C-md-n was there, who that morning had gone

To fit his new Marquis's coronet on;

And the dish set before him-oh dish welldevis'd!

Was, what old Mother Glasse calls, "a calf's head surpris'd!"

The brains were near Sh-ry, and once had beea fine,

But, of late, they had lain so long soaking in wine, That, though we, from courtesy, still chose to call These brains very fine, they were no brains at all.