MONTHLY REVIEW OF LITERATURE AND ART. 



beheld. " But ye need nae be feared, gentlemen," said she, " for I'll defy him 

 to win down. The door's boltit an' lockit, an' the vent o' the lumb is na sae 

 wide as that jug."; 



However, down he came, and down he came, until his voice actually 

 seemed to be coming out of the grate. Jane ran for it, saying, " He is winning 

 down, I believe, after a'. He is surely the deil." 



Alexandre went to the chimney, and, in his own natural voice ordered the 

 fellow to go about his business, for into our party he should not be admitted, 

 and if he forced himself in he would shoot him through the heart. The voice 

 then went again grumbling and swearing up the chimney. We actually heard 

 him hurling down over the slates, and afterwards his voice dying away in the 

 distance as he vanished into Mr. Trotter's plantations. We drank freely, and 

 paid liberally, that afternoon ; but I am sure the family never were so glad to 

 get quit of a party in all their lives. 



To prove the authenticity of this story, I may just mention that Peter 

 Naesmith and Alexander ran a race in going home for half a dozen of wine, 

 and, it being down the hill, Peter fell and hurt his breast very badly. I have 

 been told that that fall ultimately occasioned his death. I hope it was not so ; 

 for though a perfect simpleton, he was a great man in his art. 



HOOD'S COMIC ANNUAL, 1834. TILT. 



WE have received this volume too late for such an elaborate notice 

 as the reputation of its author justly entitles it. Upon a hasty glance 

 it appears to be particularly rich in its literary portion : almost every 

 article possesses a claim to attention. We can only at present, present 

 our readers with a specimen in prose, by way of whetting their ap- 

 petite for the remainder: 



SKETCHES ON THE ROAD. 



THE DILEMMA. 



" Read ! it's very easy to say read." THE BURGOMASTER. 

 u I have trusted to a reed." OLD PROVERB. 



" HOY ! Cotch ! Co-ach ! -Coachy ! Coachee ! hullo ! hulloo ! 

 woh ! wo-hoay? wough-hoaeiouy !" for the last cry was a waterman's, 

 and went all through the vowels. 



The Portsmouth Rocket pulled up, and a middle-aged, domestic-looking 

 woman, just handsome enough for a plain cook at an ordinary, was deposited 

 on the dickey ; two trunks, three bandboxes, a bundle, and a hand- basket, 

 were stowed in the hind boot. " This is where I'm. to go to," she said to 

 the guard, putting into his hand a slip of paper. The guard took the paper, 

 looked hard at it, right side upwards, then upside down, and then he looked 

 at the back ; he in the meantime seemed to examine the consistency of the 

 fabric between his finger and thumb ; he approached it to his nose as if to 

 smell out its meaning ; I even thought that he was going to try the sense of 

 it by tasting, when, by a* sudden jerk, he gave the label with its direction to 

 the winds, and snatching up his key-bugle began to play " O where, and O 

 where," with all his breath. 



I defy the metaphysicians to explain by what vehicle I travelled to the 

 conclusion that the guard could not read ; but I felt as morally sure of it as 

 if I had examined him in his a b ab. It was a prejudice not very liberal ; 



