some inexplicable Epic. Numberless are the writers who have been indebted to its assistance; but our own, our immortal countryman, Shakspeare, preserves an undisputed station at the head of the List. Fettered by no imitation, but the imitation of Nature; bound down to no rules but the vivid conceptions of an untutored, self-working Genius, he hurries us from place to place with the velocity of a torrent; we appear to be carried on by a rushing stream, which conveys our boat so rapidly in its eddies, that we pass through a thousand scenes, and are unable to observe for a moment the abruptness with which the changes are effected. Our modern Farce-writers have, with laudable emulation, followed the example of this great master of the Stage; but, as in their use of this figure they possess the audacity without the Genius of the Bard they imitate, they cannot prevent us from perceiving the frequent Asyndeton in place, in plot, or in character. The beauty of the countries to which they introduce us is not such as to withdraw us from the contemplation of the outrageously miraculous manner in which we were transported to them.

We have delayed the reader quite long enough with this preliminary discussion, and will now enter at once upon our main subject; the Asyndeton in Life.

We should imagine that few of our readers are ignorant of the charms of novelty; few have lived through their boyhood and their youth without experiencing the disgust which a too frequent repetition of the same pleasure infallibly produces. There There is in Novelty a charm, the want of which no other qualification can in any degree compensate. The most studied viands for the gratification of the appetite please us when first we enjoy them, but the enjoyment becomes tasteless by repetition, and the "Crambe repetita" of satiety provokes nausea instead of exciting desire. Thus it is in other and weightier matters. The pleasures which we first devoured with avidity lose much of their relish when they recur a second time, and are mere gall and wormwood to us when their sweets have become familiar to our taste. A common everyday character, although its possessor may enjoy abundance of worth and good sense, makes no impression on our minds; but the Novelty of capricious Beauty or uncultivated Genius finds a

sure road to our hearts.

This is something too long for a Digression; but Novelty is a very pretty theme, and must be our excuse. We will return forthwith to our subject.

Since Novelty then has so much weight in influencing the judg ment, or at least the prejudices of mankind, it is right that this most desirable qualification should not be neglected by young persons on their debut upon the stage of life; we must be masters

of this excellence before we can expect to shine in any other; we must be new before we can hope to be amusing.

Now the Figure which we have been discussing, or rather, the Figure which we ought to have been discussing, is the very essence and quintessence of Novelty. It is perpetually bringing before our eyes old scenes in a new form, old friends in a new dress, old recollections in a new Imagery: it is the Cayenne of life, and from it the dishes, which would without it cloy and disgust, derive a perpetual variety of taste and pungency. It takes from the scenes we so often witness their unpleasing uniformity, and gives to our mortal career an air of Romance which is inexpressibly amusing. All ranks of persons may alike derive benefit from it. By its use the charms of the Beauty become more irresistible, the exploits of the General more astonishing, the character of the Rake more excusable. It gives in an equal degree pleasure to those who behold, and advantage to those who practise it.

How then is it to be practised? The manner and the method are sufficiently obvious. Never wear to-morrow the same character, or the same dress that you wore to-day. Be, if you can, "puncto mobilis hora." Be red one hour, and pale the next; vary your temper, your appearance, your language, your manners, unceasingly. Let not your studies or your amusements continue the same for a week together. Skim over the surface of everything, and be deep in nothing; you may think a little, read a little, gamble a little; but you must not think deep, read deep, or play deep. In short, be everything and nothing; the butterfly in life, tasting every flower, and tasting only to leave it.

Do you think too much is required? Far from it. Antiquity has handed down to us a character possessed, in a most transcendent degree, of all the qualifications we have exacted. We always like to get an example or two from antiquity, because it looks learned. Alcibiades then we can safely propose as a model for all juvenile practitioners in the Asyndeton. Was he grave one day? He laughed the next. Was he an Orator one day? He was a Buffoon the next. Was he a Greek one day? He was a Persian the next. To sum up his character, he was skilled in every profession; an amateur in every fashion; adorned by every virtue; made infamous by every vice. He moralized like a philosopher, jested like a mountebank, fought like a hero, lied like a scoundrel, lived like a knowing one, and died like a fool.

We assert, and we defy the soundest sophist in the world to contradict us, that these mixed characters obtain and preserve a greater portion of the admiration of the world, than more consistent and less interesting personages. We wonder not at the uniformity of the Fixed Star, but our imagination is actively employed upon the unusual appearance of the Comet. Thus the

man of firm and unchangeable steadiness of principle receives our esteem, and is forgotten; while the meteoric appearance of inconsistent eccentricity takes instant hold of our admiration, and is decorated with ten thousand indescribable attractions by the proper exercise of the Asyndeton.

But why do we dilate so much upon the authority of Alcibiades? It has been the almost invariable practice of all great men, in all ages, to pay particular attention to the cultivation of this figure. What a prodigy of the Asyndeton was Alexander! His father Philip may have had more science, perhaps more bottom; but the eccentricities of Alexander, the extraordinary rapidity with which he changed the ring for the gin-shop, and laid down the thunderbolt of Ammon to assume the quart pot of Hercules, have given, and will preserve to him, the first leaf in the good Books of the young and the hasty.

Are we not more delighted by the capricious mutability of Queen Bess than by the moral uniformity of Queen Anne? Is it not a pleasing marvel, and a marvellous pleasure, to look at the last days of Oliver Cromwell, when the usurper, perpetually stretched upon the tenter-hooks of conscience, dared not travel the same road twice, nor sleep two nights following in the same bed?* Spirit of mutability; what pranks must thou have played with the Protector!

Since these are the charms of the Asyndeton, it is not surprising that the poets should have so frequently thrown a spice of it into the characters of their Heroes. Putting Fingal and Æneas out of the way, we have no Hero of any importance who can make pretensions to a consistency in perfection; and even the latter of these trips occasionally into the Asyndeton; especially when he puts off his usual denominations of "pius" or "pater," in order to be simply " Dux Trojanus" at the court of Queen Dido. As for Achilles, his whole life "magno si quicquam credis Homero," is an Asyndeton. He is equally a warrior and a balladsinger, a prince and a cook. To-day he cuts up oxen, and tomorrow he cuts up Trojans. In battle he is as stout a Glutton as ever peeled at Moulsey-hurst. At supper he is as hungry a glutton as ever sat down to a turtle. Homer has been blamed for the faults of his Hero. For our part we think with his defenders, that the character which aims with success at perfection, aims in vain at interest; and the feats of Achilles appear to us to derive much of their lustre from the Asyndeton which pervade them. Aware of the charm which a character receives from the use of this figure, modern writers have followed, in this point, the

* Upon the first of these circumstances Mr. Musgrave remarks that Oliver must have run a strange irregular coach; upon the second, Mr. Burton observes that Mr. Cromwell must have been but indifferent in the way of economy.

example of their great forerunner, and have thrown into the characters of most of their Heroes a particle of this fascinating inconsistency. Hence we have the Soldier of Flodden Field, something between a freebooter and a knight,

"Now forging scrolls, now foremost in the fight,

Not quite a felon, yet but half a knight."

Hence we trace the unconnected wanderings of a noble, but ruined spirit in Manfred; and hence we wonder at the mysterious union of virtue and vice in the gloomy Corsair, who

"Leaves a name to other times,

Linked with one virtue and a thousand crimes."

Now, for the instruction of our readers in this elegant, nay, necessary accomplishment, we must begin by observing that the Asyndeton may be practised in various manners and matters. There is the Asyndeton in actions, the Asyndeton in dress, and the Asyndeton in conversation. The first of these is adapted to the capacities of promising young men, who have some talent, some wit, and just sufficient vanity to render both of no service. The second is very proper to be used by the Lady with little Beauty, who wishes to be "Brilliante;" and the third is equally suitable to the Lady with little wit, who wishes to be " Picquante.' We have made our treatise so prolix, and indulged in such frequent digressions, that we fear our description will be considered a specimen of the figure we are describing ;-we will therefore briefly conclude this, as we concluded our former Essay, by throwing together a few promiscuous specimens of the Asyndeton, in the above classes of its professors :

William Mutable, January 31, 1820, Left Cambridge a wrangler.-Feb. 12, Studied "Fancy" with Jackson.March 10, Entered the "Bachelor's Club."-April 1, Married! the day was ominous.

Charles Random, Feb. 20, 1820, Bought a commission.-26th, ditto, Entered himself of the Temple.-March 1, Entered the Church, and sported a wig.-March 6, Left off the wig and fell in love.-March 20, Despaired, and turned Quaker.March 30, Caught a fever by dancing.-Feb. 1, Quite recovered.-Feb. 2, Died.

Sophia Mellon.-First Masquerade in the season, a Venus.—2nd,, a Vesta.-3d, a Georgian.-4th, a Gipsy.

Laura Voluble.-Seven o'clock, talking morality with the Doctor.

-Eight, Nonsense with the Captain.-Nine, Greek with the Pedant. Ten, Love with the Poet.-Eleven,-Silent!!!-This was the most marvellous change of all, and Laura is without a rival, in, the Asyndeton.

F. G.

THE CONTENTED LOVER.

"That which is established ought always to be considered as the best." MORNING POST, Sept. 14, 18-.

I ASK not if the world enfold

A fairer form than thine,

Tresses more rich in flowing gold,
And eyes of sweeter shine.

It is enough for me to know

That thou art fair to sight;

That thou hast locks of golden flow,
And eyes of playful light.

I ask not if there beat on earth
A warmer heart than thine,
A soul more rich in simple worth,
A genius more divine.

It is enough for me to prove
Thou hast a soul sincere,
A heart well made for quiet love,
A fancy rich and clear.

Already by kind Heaven so far
Beyond my wishes blest,

I would not, with presumptuous prayer,
Petition for the best.

While thou art wise, and good, and fair,
Thou art that best to me;

Nor would I, might I choose, prefer
A lovelier still to thee.

On Signs.

"Granby, Burgoyne, Keppel, Howe, Evil and good, have had their tithe of talk,

And fill'd their sign-posts then, like Wellesley now."-DON JUAN.

ONE often hears it remarked by people not in general the most ready to allow the superiority of modern taste, that a visible improvement has been effected in our streets by the removal of those various emblems which every shopkeeper thought himself entitled to display over his door, just as his fancy and judgment might di