154 SECRET MEMORANDUMS. 



cally abuse 1 ' was from nry admirable hand. I thus commenced my 

 notice : 



" The RISE OP LIBERTY, by W- F - Wimble." 



" In the fresh morning of our life, when the fields, and woods, and 

 lofty heavens are the books we most delight in ; when all nature 

 seems unsullied around us, and we feel as though no change could 

 ever o'ercome ' the spirit of our dream ;' it is then we uplift our 

 hearts with the purest adoration, filled with a sense of the majesty of 

 nature, and that dignity of station which is man's birth-right upon 

 earth. To know that we are mortal subject to pain and disease ere 

 our descent to the grave, though it be no humiliation, may call up 

 the shade of Melancholy before our souls ; but to know that we are 

 free during our sojourn on this terrestrial sphere ; that we can walk 

 in the light of liberty, subject to no other tyrants than those which 

 belong to our physical condition this is enough to dispel the gloom 

 of grief, care, and morbid apprehension, and illumine our path 



through time to eternity." 



* * # # 



" In reviewing the volume before us, we find ourselves called upon 

 to perform a double duty. The ' Rise of Liberty/ like the rise of the 

 sun, is often amidst clouds and storms ; as that of the moon is not 

 unfrequently accompanied by the baying of dogs and wolves. Mr. 

 Wimble's poem has had its reviewers ! It behoves us, therefore, to 

 point out, to the best of our abilities, the many noble sentiments and 

 images contained in the ' Rise of Liberty ;' and also to expose the 

 cowardly baseness and frauds manifested by the attack in Brazenface, 



which is from the well-known hoof of a consummate ass !" 



* * * # 



Soon after the appearance of the above critique, I received a very 

 handsome letter of thanks from Mr. Wimble, with a pressing invita- 

 tion to dinner. After some hesitation I sent a note excusing myself. I 

 felt I did not altogether merit his friendship ; that is to say, not to the 

 extent he fancied himself indebted. Moreover, there was another 

 cause for feeling uncomfortable in his presence. I was just then 

 employed in altering the phraseology and epithets of scurrility in 

 the article I had inserted in Brazenface, in order to send it to the 

 London Brassrazor, which was, in fact, a sort of branch-bully from 

 the former. And here I may be permitted to make an exception to 

 a position previously laid down ; because an article which would suit 

 one of these might, in many cases, be very acceptable to the other, 

 the relationship between them being the same as that of turkey-cock 

 and son. My review in Brassrazor thus opened : 



" Fisher Wimble's * RISE OF LIBERTY.' 



" William Fisher Wimble, the son of old Wimble the grocer of 

 Shropshire, and nephew of an ill-savoured pettifogging lawyer in 

 Wisbeach, was born in a back garret at Chelsea, and after living 

 upon buns and pigeon's milk up to the age of five-and-twenty, has 

 thought himself fully qualified, by birth and education, to compose a 

 volume of poems. Tall of stature, thin, herring-gutted, k-legged, 

 long-necked, of a dark complexion, with a bill-hook nose, and a 

 hungry mouth, he may be continually seen striding with slow, 



