rested in the information that "The answer to the charade in our last is Frying-pan;" or would take the slightest pains to inform that able correspondent" Inquirer," whether Shooter's Hill ought to be written with a double o or with u; he having ascertained, that about forty years ago a robber of the name of Shuter was taken on the very spot!! Ah! those were the days for the easy acquirement of literary fame! Every one must remember Dick Dunderpate, who used to swagger about town (ay, and was pointed at too,) as the celebrated note of interrogation, the ? of the "Town and Country." Dick, by dint of sheer ignorance, was a fortune to that interesting work; for he half filled its pages with his supplications for information. As he knew nothing, and was anxious to learn, his queries one month, and the showers of answers to them the next, were of themselves nearly sufficient to fill a number. But Dick's "Cheval de bataille," the query by which his reputation was fully established, and upon which it ever after rested, was the following:-"To the Editor, &c. Sir,-As the natives of Holland are called Dutchmen, I shall be obliged to any of your numerous and ingenious readers to inform me whether, through the medium of your highly-interesting, deeply-instructive, widely-circulated, and long-established Magazine, it would be proper to call the natives of New Holland New Dutchmen, and remain, Sir, your admiring correspondent, ?" No sooner was this erudite question proposed, than les savans of the "Town and Country" went to work; and the result of their cogitations was a string of fifty-seven answers in the succeeding number: one of the bunch (of which, as of the above, the style is preserved) will serve as a specimen :-"To the Editor. Sir,-In answer to the ingenious question of your valuable correspondent, ?, I beg to inform him I cannot say but by parity of reasoning, in New South Wales, would it be most correct to term the natives New South Welshmen, or New South Whalers? If the latter, I should think they ought to be called New Hollanders, under correction, and I remain A CONSTANT READER." Another of the worthies of that time was Tom Pippin, who modestly intrenched himself behind the signature of Philo-Botanico-HortiCuriosiensis. His path to fame led through all the market and flowergardens within ten miles of London; and his literary effusions were confined to descriptions of the monstrosities of the vegetable world. Peaches as large as pumpkins; a cabbage overshadowing a circumference of twenty-two feet three inches and a quarter; a green gooseberry, alike regardless of the laws of subordination and the rules of decorum, emulating a cat's-head apple in bulk, and (like a commoncouncilman at a turtle-feast) mercilessly experimenting on the elastic power of its own skin; and apple-trees detected in the fact of prematurely popping on their white wigs of blossom, were sure of an immortal record from his eloquent pen. But, compared with the contributions offered to him as tribute to the celebrity of his name, and acknowledgment of his exalted superiority in his peculiar walk, the result of his own actual researches was trifling. For every gigantic plum or pigmy pumpkin really seen by himself, he was "favoured" with accurate descriptions of fifty other wonders and curiosities in the same way, discovered by his "sincere admirers" in different parts of the kingdom; so that his monthly additions to this valuable department of literature were, for many years, uninterrupted and unfailing. Yet, although upon the strength of this, his literary fame, Tom Pippin was considered a very pretty fellow in his day," it may be doubted whether he would be equally admired now; the more so since the subjects upon which his talent and genius were especially occupied, are relinquished by the higher periodicals in favour of the Morning Papers, which derive considerable benefit from them during the recess of Parliament, when they serve to fill up their chinks and corners. A third, Jack Jumble, was a truly original genius. He opened a new road to literary renown, and his noble daring was rewarded by the enrolment of his name in the same list with those of his great contemporaries. He was a perfect lion for the time. He it was who first discovered the existence of a modern Methuselah in the persons of eighteen men, all residing in the same town, whose united ages, incredible as it might appear, amounted to 1072 years! Old Parr, who lived a good hundred and sixty years to his own individual share, and who, till the period of this important discovery, had drawn large drafts upon men's wonder, was now thrown completely into shade. His hundred and sixty years were considered as the mere infancy of life, and nothing was talked of but the eighteen men of one thousand and seventy-two years of age! This sublime discovery produced amongst the magazine-readers a positive sensation. Jumble's popularity increased to such an extent, that not only was his presence at all the literary conversaziones indispensable, but he was engaged by two of the leading periodicals to prosecute his researches after similar extraordinary facts. Jack was indefatigable in his laborious task; but "the labour we delight in physics pain ;" and he has been known to furnish, in a single month, well-authenticated accounts of as many as seven of these Joint-stock Longevity Companies. But what in the world is permanent! This department of literature also is now confided to the fostering care of the Daily Papers: yet let it not be forgotten by those who, disdaining the restriction of six-score and ten, are determined to tell their ages by centuries instead of years, that it is to the genius of Jack Jumble they are indebted for the means of attaining so desirable an end. Common as is now the practice, he it was who first promulgated the secret, that by the simple exercise of the social faculty, by making common stock of their years, a friendly party might set time at defiance, and boast an age sinking the giants of old into insignificance. But the most remarkable person of that time was the subject of the following memoir. It was originally intended for publication in that popular miscellany, "The Muses' Bower;" but its appearance therein was prevented by a calamitous event: nothing less than the sudden discontinuance of the popular miscellany itself. The fortunate circumstance of "the original MS. having recently been discovered" would of itself be a sufficient reason for committing it to the press; but it may claim such honour on more legitimate grounds: it affords a fair specimen at once of the sort of persons then destined to immortality; of the right and title to obtain it then considered to be good and sufficient; and of the biographical aid by which the important object was to be accomplished. Just premising that the most prominent merit of the biographer is an extraordinary clearness of style, resulting, from, what Mrs. Malaprop would call, a "nice derangement" of members; we proceed to A Biographical Memoir of ACKERSTONE BOWERSCOURt Fip; We this month present our readers with a beautiful copper-plate portrait of the late lamented A. B. Fip, Esq. carefully engraved by that justly-famous artist Mr. Scrape, who did the so much admired head, without any hair, of the Marquis of Granby, on the same leaf with an accurate representation of the yew-tree, ingeniously clipped into the shape of a judge's wig, as seen in Nettlesworth church-yard, which ornamented our last number, together with an account thereof, after an original drawing in the possession of his family, done by an eminent limner. The subject of the present memoir, which is written by one who lived on terms of the strictest friendship with him, and can bear testimony to his extraordinary worth and genius, for upwards of forty years, in the same village, whose departure to a better place he deplores, was the second son of the late Rev. Coram Fip, and one of seventeen children, many years curate of the parish of Little Peddlington, in the county of Northampton, and Judith, daughter of Robert Pugden, his wife, formerly an eminent attorney of that place. Roger, the eldest son-[Here we have five pages of information concerning the other sixteen children, their wives and offspring; circumstantially detailing where the dead of the number are buried, and how and where the survivors are settled.] Shortly after the death of his mother [an affecting narration of the manner of her death by a scarlet-fever, with the customary tribute to her exemplary patience, and the usual "universally regretted," &c. form a portion of the suppressed matter] he was sent to the free grammar-school at under the superintendence of the learned Morgan Sandyforth, D.D. when he was only nine years old; and there it was the present writer formed the imperishable friendship which only terminated with his life; little imagining, such is the course of sublunary things! his hand was destined to trace these lines whilst he was peacefully sleeping in the grave. When little more than sixteen, he was recalled to the paternal roof by his father; and shortly after, being thrown from his horse, which was blind, a circumstance deeply deplored by his parishioners, who shed torrents of unfeigned tears, his death was the consequence. This event made a deep impression upon the mind of young Ackerstone; and no sooner were his mortal remains deposited in the earth, than he determined to travel; and an opportunity occurred every way to his wishes, from the fortunate residence of Lord S-, whose eldest son was preparing to make the grand tour, within half a mile of the village. An application was made to his Lordship to serve as private tutor; and his slender wardrobe, being then only seventeen years of age, and swelling high with hope, carefully packed in a portmanteau, was ready for departure at a moment's notice. But a more fortunate rival being selected, with that practical philosophy which distinguished him through life, he gazed on the departing vehicle with four horses, and the young lordling and his companion inside, while the animals were smarting under the impelling lashes of the postillions, without shedding a tear, or uttering one word of complaint. Disappointed in this hope, the youthful Fip being left to the guidance of his own will, by the death of his father, in his sixty-ninth year, at that tender age when the passions run riot unless controlled by a parent's authority, and exposed to all the temptations of a place like Little Peddlington, where a company of first-rate comedians were at that time performing, it being the annual fair, he burned with desire to witness the performance of Shakspeare's immortal play of Othello for the first time. In this he was gratified; and the never-to-be-forgotten Mac Fergus acted the part of Othello, surnamed the Flying Highlander, being born in the highlands of Scotland, in consequence of his astonishing feats on the slack-rope. The writer of this was his companion on that occasion; and never shall he forget that impression made on his mind, when the cruel Moor seizing a bolster, filled with jealousy and rage, put his wife to a cruel death, which time could never eradicate. He heard him speak of this first performance he ever witnessed, forty years afterwards, with rapture, in the course of which was introduced a troop of horse. His taste for the drama thus formed, he became its constant patron, and regularly attended the annual exhibitions of the great Saunders, the successor of Mac Fergus, whose neck, falling from the slack rope, was dislocated, in the midst of the deafening acclamations of an admiring multitude, of which he died! Yet, such is the force of early recollections, he was always the god of his idolatry as a tragic actor; although the celebrated Richardson, the proprietor of the learned pig, whose excellence in the part of Othello was unquestionable, often had the honour of acting in his presence. But to return. His all-powerful mind was not to be diverted by frivolous pursuits from more important duties. [Here follows an account of his becoming usher, and, subsequently, master of the village school of Little Peddlington.] It is a remarkable coincidence and worthy of record, that in the very same year, at the age of thirty-three, the great William Pitt being really no more than twenty-one at his elevation to the post of prime minister, he was also appointed to the dignified situation of head-master of the school of Little Peddlington, the sole object of his ambition. Here, although party politics ran high at that time, in a gentle stream of lettered ease, he forbore to express his opinions; leaving it to fanatics and demagogues to disturb society with their interested and dangerous disputes, for the benefit of mankind in a nobler sense. His first remarkable work, being now resolved to devote the hours of relaxation, after the arduous care of the daily seminary, to literature, antiquities, the fine arts, &c., was an essay called, by way of dialogue, "Virtue versus Vice," most ingeniously, in the shape of two sisters, making them argue pro and con, the one as lovely as the other was deformed, till Vice retires in confusion, having no more to say, with that originality of conception which has seldom been equalled, never surpassed. Shortly after, the parish stocks being out of repair, for the punishment of offenders, and the cage also, and many petty offences being hourly committed by them, and the parish refusing funds to aid them; with his accustomed zeal, he determined to call the attention of the world at large to the subject, as a protection of the inhabitants of Little Peddlington, against such notorious offenders as they were. He therefore drew up an able petition to both Houses of Parliament, clearly demonstrating that they were both greatly in need of repair, and prayng that they would order the cage and the stocks to be kept in pro per order, for their correction in the outset of their career of crime, which might save many of them from an untimely end. The parishofficers, alarmed at this bold measure, instantly did repair both the cage and the stocks, and put them in proper order, to prevent exposure, and those edifices will stand as immortal evidences of his public spirit to the latest posterity. Next followed, in rapid succession, his Account of our parish-church, which he sent to London, which will be found in the thirty-ninth volume of this invaluable miscellany, and a drawing of the same, taken from the late Mr. Edwards's tomb-stone, which he made with his own hand. An account of the tremendous hailstorm in the same work, on the 19th January, 1799, which broke nineteen panes of glass in his school-room. Description of the curiously carved pump-handle, and other antiquities of Little Peddlington, with an inquiry into the origin of its name. (Ditto) &c. &c. &c. &c. works of equal value and importance, showing the variety and extent of his learning and genius. But an event was soon to occur-[Three pages in the usual strain about "acute suffering," "exemplary patience," &c.]-At exactly seven minutes past seven, on the seventh of December, he expired without a groan, a coincidence which cannot be too deeply impressed on the mind of the reader as exemplifying the inscrutable ways, &c. : 66 Like the daring eagle which soars beyond the reach of common men, thus did Fip expand his wings in every walk of literature and science; and as was his excellence, so was his modesty, a flambeau to his merit." To sum up all like the Admirable Crichton, whether we consider the variety or the extent of his acquirements, he was not only the admiration and the ornament of Little Peddlington, his native place, which witnessed the whole of his glorious career, where he also fondly died in the arms of him who now traces these lines, and whose honoured remains are deposited near the great cypress at the north-east corner of the church-yard: but like him, too, he must ever be the glory of his country, the wonder of posterity, and an unceasing theme of admiration to the readers of this miscellany to which he was so valuable a contributor, and which continues to be published monthly at the Newton's head, No. 77, Fetter-lane, price as usual one-and-sixpence! TIME'S SONG. O'ER the level plain where mountains greet me as I go, Power had won a throne of glory;-where is now his fame? I have heard the heifer lowing o'er the wild wave's bed; P.* Φ |