140 SONG. 



To return to the dramas for the Russian stage. I look on the part of 

 Daniel Dowlas to be a subtle, but a most nefarious attack on the aristo- 

 cracy. Make a lord from a chandler ! I certainly think that in Russia 

 a great tallow country, be it remembered it would be a dangerous sneer 

 at your noble dealers in fat and hemp. Doctor Pangloss should not be 

 suffered in a country proud, and justly proud, of its academic greatness. 

 Zekiel Homespun is altogether a piece of false sentiment and imperti- 

 nence : all his bragging and big words are made ludicrously contemptible 

 by his plebeian dress. Virtue and worth going on hobnails ! Nonsense. 



As for the piece of The Africans, I must honestly confess to you, I had 

 not the patience to get beyond the first act. I don't know how it would 

 go down in Russia, but, at this time of day, it would never do in Eng- 

 land. To attempt to make blacks interesting ! the author was a bold 

 man. 



You are, you say, in doubt as to the propriety of licensing Pizarro. 

 You speak of Rolla's address about liberty. I don't know whether you 

 might not for once let it be spoken, by way of a good joke. I think on 

 a St. Petersburgh audience it could not fail to tell. 



I beg leave to congratulate you on your being invested, by your bene- 

 volent and enlightened emperor, with the literary order of the Thumb- 

 screw and Gagging-bar : we ought to have some distinction of the kind 

 here* I send you, per request, the Olney Hymns. Many thanks for the 

 ham and black fox-skin. 



Suffer me, my dear Putoutallthelight, to subscribe myself, in the ful- 

 ness of admiration, yours ever, 



% A BROAD GRIN. 



SONG. 



I HEARD, when winter's frown 



Was dark upon the sky, 

 Amid the forests brown, 



The wild winds sweeping by : 

 A dirge for summer's pride, 



Upon their wings they bore, 

 And to my heart I sighed, 

 " Even thus thy joys have died 



"Love thou no more." 



I heard on every bough, 



A song for spring's return ; 

 And shining waters flow 



From many a pebbly urn : 

 Then whispered bird and bee, 



And chimed the gentle rain ; 

 And murmured every tree, 

 "There's hope, O heart! for thee 



" Love thou again." 



