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Misfortunes of Authorship.- The Philanthropist.

turn out to his disadvantage; if he had sent your essays into the world, he would have incurred an expenditure which the world would never have repaid. I cannot feel so much anger for your pretended friend, for you deserved the imposition, as it arose from your credulity and vanity; had he not persuaded you to a belief of abilities you never possessed, and had you not so readily swallowed the bait, you might now be secure from the disgrace occasioned by the manager's refusal. As to your play-I have looked through it, and my serious solemn advice would be—to burn it; come, come, no passion-In the first act you send on a fellow spouting at an enormous rate, and telling himself a story of what happened to him the day before; again, you travel from the Persian Sea into the Bay of Naples; and o' my conscience I believe if you had run it into another act you would have carried your personages to the Mississippi! There is not a single unexceptionable line in the whole composition-let it follow your essays; but be careful to have the credit of the sacrifice yourself, and the world will more applaud you for this one act of justice, than for all the romances and dramas you will ever write."

My own confusion will not allow me to say any more. You, sir, must be my arbitrator with the public; plead my cause with them, and tell them that I recant my intention of lampooning them. But be careful of informing them, as it is the only moral can be extracted from my adventures, that the censure of one wise man is more valuable than the adulation of a phalanx of ignorant friends; and that the first step to the ruin of youth is unmerited praise.

I remain, Sir,

With every feeling of contrition,
The public's most penitent servant,

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* Littlewit-A pretty conceit and worth the finding.”—Bartholomew Fair.

WHEN I first proposed to present a monthly paper to my friends, I supposed I should have been obliged to depend

The Philanthropist.

entirely on the resources of my own memory or fancy; and also hoped that my natural and acquired insignificance would shield me from personal observation, until it should please me more openly to reveal myself. But human foresight serves in general only to mislead us; and, instead of my fancied security, I have incurred the displeasure of some-the commendations of very few indeed by my presumption. I have at present before me no fewer than seventeen epistles, received through the usual channel, from those who think they have recognised in the Philanthropist some old acquaintance, or who deem him a proper organ of communication with the editors, compilers, proprietors, publishers, and printers of the magazine. From these I can only present a selection, as I wish to convince my first correspondent that I am always amenable to the voice of reason.


You are an old and experienced man, and are therefore able to distinguish between the right and the wrong side of affairs. Now I also am rather ancient, and must look for variety to raise my spirits; and as I suppose you sympathise with me, I apply through you to your editor to request he will never give more than three pages to any article whatsoever (not including herein your own paper, which I esteem very highly).

Your companion in antiquity,

The following is from some young lady, to whom I would recommend a perusal of the celebrated story of the Spartan practice, contrasted with the Athenian theory of politeness.


I read part of your first number yesterday, and I was wonderfully delighted with the history of your early adventures-they were so romantic, and so particularly interest. ing to me. But is it possible you really are not deaf? How have you deceived me so long? I am certain I know quite well who you are-you are the respectable old gentleman who has visited my mamma so often that I thought you were going to propose for her-for my part I would be very glad to have you as my step-father. You amused us so much that my sister Mary and I were always in an extacy whenever you came-we could laugh at you and talk of you



The Philanthropist.

as much as we pleased, and you never minded us. But I know you won't be as angry with us, as mamma was: for I assure you if I had known that you heard me, I would not for the world have laughed at you, or said one word about your wig or your buckles until you were gone upon my honor I would not; and if you chose to deceive your friends, you cannot blame me for any thing I ever said. But I promise never to do so again, and hope to see you soon, that we may chat over your present undertaking; until when, Believe me, dearest Phil, Your much amused, CALLANTHE."

To this young lady, who, I believe, does know me, I would strongly recommend two things.-1. Not to pervert her talents to such an unworthy purpose as the derision of natural infirmities; 2. Not to end her m's, and w's, and i's, and d's, in such acute angles. The object of writing-masters in my days was to make children write a fair, round, legible handnow, O tempora! it is quite the reverse.

The next is from a supplicant of the very worst description.


I am very happy that I have found you at last, after searching every where over half Ireland for you; but I am more sorry to find that you have set up for a writer, for you will injure your health, and that, you know, is the main point. I was very sorry that you left us so suddenly in that kind of a way, without telling any of us where you were going; and the instant I read your paper in Tralee, I knew it was you who were after describing yourself, and happy was I to find you. I immediately got fitted up for you as nice a room as ever you saw, where you will be comfortable among your own relations, and be able to live in my house, which of course is your's, free of any cost. I don't know where you live, or I would call to see you; but you can leave an answer at HIS MAJESTY'S BOOKSELLER's in Dame-street for Your very loving cousin, PATRICK PHELAN.

P. S. Will you tell me what you mean by calling yourself the Philanthropist-I hear it is a Greek word, and you know I never learned any of these outlandish things."

My loving cousin will please to observe that I never heard

The Philanthropist.

his name before, and that he spells very badly, as I was obliged to correct every second word.

The following were intended for our editor, though ad. dressed to me.



You may think it rather forward in me to address you so familiarly, but I am sufficiently authorised by your own appellation; you call yourself "the friend of man"-I am a man; therefore you are my friend-all my friends are dear to me; therefore you are "my dear Philanthropist." advise you to introduce the "notice to correspondents" within the limits of your paper. This would serve two good purposes-imprimis, some very good writing would be preserved, which will otherwise be lost when the numbers are bound into a volume ;-secundo, you would save yourself a great deal of trouble: for, to judge by myself, I should think you have a very hard task. Your friend,


Mr. Steady's reasons might prevail, but that almost all our correspondents are poets, and my studies are confined to simple prose.


I hear you intend to let your pen "rest in peace," and that the Dublin Inquisitor will "die the death of the righteous" when your first volume is concluded. I should be sorry to find your useful labors at an end. Your name, if you continue the publication, will be enrolled in the list of celebrated authors, and the praises of an admiring posterity will fall like the dew of heaven on your works, and cause them to flourish till the end of time. Satisfy my doubts. Assure me that this report is unfounded. Tell me you will at least continue to publish your lucubrations until DE WINZA is finished, and you will deserve the eternal thanks of Your obliged,


Amelinda may rest assured that we will continue the Inquisitor as long as there are paper-mills, printers, publishers, and readers to be found in Ireland.

I will give the following letter here; the remaining eleven shall be reserved until such time as I may be in want of fillingup matter, as our printer calls it.

Adventures of an Unfortunate Player.


Will you let me ask you do you propose yourself as a rival to the Spectator or Guardian? If you do, I can assure you that you are a very presumptuous fellow. The writers of these papers evince wit, and judgment, and talent of every description;-to which of these can you lay claim. The Inquisitor is a very good book-indeed the worst part of it is certainly the Philanthropist. If you take my advice you will never print another number of your paper. Will you tell me why your editor is not punctual in his publication?Last month the magazine was not published till the eighth. This is very bad management, and betrays a want of energy -a carelessness that should not exist.


With respect to the first part of Mr. Dashwould's complaint, I should be sorry to enter into competition with any essayist of either past, present, or future times; I could derive but little credit from a comparison, particularly with the gentlemen to whom he alludes. As to our want of punctuality, I would remark that we write solely for our pleasureand that though the blame might often be laid on the manu. facturing part of our establishment, we are willing to take it entirely to ourselves, relying on the kindness and partiality of our subscribers, who will attribute the seeming neglect rather to accidental circumstances than to carelessness or wilful inattention.


(Continued from page 349.)

I WAS now, continued the young man, embarked on the ocean of life without compass or rudder; Oh, had I paused as I entered my father's study-had I heard the sound of a footstep on the stairs, as with trembling hand I lifted the purse from his desk, I might have been saved from those miseries which I have since endured.

We continued to travel by night and day, occasionally affording the amusement of a play to the inhabitants of those towns and villages through which we passed, and by these means defraying our travelling expences, until we arrived in the evening of the ninth day, at the large trading town of

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