The Sun.
London, England, 1830-09-01 00:00:00

FRASER'S MAGAZINE.

There is much amusing reading in tho present
number, together with no slight quantity of
what may be called twaddle. The long article
on Bishop Heber is of this character. It is,
however, harmless, and not absolutely repellant.
Its only faults are its length and dullness. The
first is a serious offence, wholly unworthy of
" Regina," as " Fraser's Magazine" chooses,
somewhat conceitedly, and most assuredy in-
appropriately, to style itself. " The Man
Hunter" is A tale, or rather anecdote,
penned with considerable power of senti-
ment and force of style. It is indeed a
capital article. "On the March of Intellect"
is an essay that tells soma home truths in a
natural and homely manner. " The Unearthly
Witness" is a Scotch bit of diablerie, by the
Ettrick Shepherd. We cannot say much of it.
It is a hundreth repetition of one of Mr. Hogg's
old ghost stories. The Review of Mrs.l

Norton's " Undying One" is a sprightly, enter-
taining critique, though rather too severe on
poor Sheridan, and still more on his biographer,
Moore, who is treated with needless injustice.
Mrs. Norton is praised as she deserves to be.
" Prospects of the Ministry" is a vigorous
political diatribe ; there is much in it with which
we coincide. " East India Company" speaks
some severe truths in a proper, intelligent
manner, of Mr. Buckingham and his pretensions.
" Gallery of Literary Characters" contains a
most felicitous portrait of Rogers, the poet ; or
as John Bull calls him, the banker. The 'sketch
of his poetical character is smartly written :
it De mortals nil nisi &mum I There is Sam Rogers,
a mortal likeness—painted to the very death ! We have
often thought that a collection of witticisms let off on the
subject of Sam Rogers's death, would go near equalling in
bulk the vast _volume of jokes put foto his mouth by a
thousand industrious pun-manufacturers. There is Mack-
intosh's Wonder, why when at an election time he could
not find an accommodation at any hotel in a country
town, he did not try snug lying in the church-yard—the
French valet's announcement of him as M. le Mott, mis-
taking him for Tom Moore, and the consequent horror of
the company—Scott's recommendation that Sam should
try his fate in medicine; where, if there was any truth in
physiognomy, Le would he sure to shine, on the strength
of his having perpetually a fizeies Ilippoeratiea. Hook's
friendly caution, when he saw him at Lord Byron's fw
nerd, to keep out of sight of the undertaker, lest he should
claim him as one of his old customers. But why extend
the roll, when there is not a variety of jest in which
' Goodman death, Goodman bones, thou *tinny thou,' or
any other of the complimentary phrases bandied ateott by
Hostess Quiekley and Doll Tearsheet, against' their inve-
terate enemy, the beadle, could be twisted, which has
not been brought into action against Rogers ? He stands
all this lire undisturbed, strenuously maintaining, not only
that h. *alive, but that his countenance is the very beau
ideal of beauty. 'That's a very pretty girl,' said he one
night to Newton the painter, • she has a tete morte. I have
.a ate inorte—it is really one of the finest styles of the hu-
man countenance.' Whereupon Sam ' grinned horribly a
ghastly virile,' just as he is doing in the opposite picture.
Independently of the persecution Sam suffers from being
dead, a grievance which he has in a great measure out-
lived, he is an ill-used gentleman, in being snide Fun-
master-General to the United Kingdom. How this high
distinction originally came to be his, we have no histo-
rical documents to prove. It is now settled. Joe Miller
veils his bonnet to Sam Rogers. In all the newspapers,
not only of the kingdom, but of its dependencies, 1141110e-
tan, Canada, the West Indies, the Cape, from the Tropics,
nay, from the Antipodes to the Orkneys, Rain is god-
father-general to all the bad jokes in existence. The
Yankees have caught the fancy, and from New Orleans to
New York it is the same—Rogers is synonymous with a
pun. All British-born or descended people—yea, the
very Negro and the Hindeo—fether their calembourgs on
Rogers, ()mullet or Itamee-Samee, who know nothing
of sir Isaac Newton, John Milton, or Fraser's Alla-
zinc, grin from ear to ear at the name of the illustrious
banker, and with gratified yoke exclaim, ' Him ---
funny, dat Sew.' By this fame, Sam must be known,
after he is allowed to he dead by the parish officers. Fot,
after all, the literary glory of Sam will be ono of the
smallest. His verses are of the petty larceny school oil

poetry. When Wordsworth read in Don Juan the corn,
mandment that

Thou shalt not steal from Samuel Rogera,,
he remarked. very properly ,that no theft would be more
hazardous, because, not only: Sam might reclaim the pil-
fered goods, but there wined be no small danger ~f their
being looked after by time from whom the said Sam had
originally stolen them. He has a pretty house, with pretty
gewgaws in it—he gives tolerable dinners, and says very
spiteful things—he is an ugly min, and his face is dead,
and his jokes flat. His poetry is poor, and his b
house rich—his verses, which he purloined, will be for-
gotten—his jests (which others made for him) may be re-
membered. The Pleasures of Memory will go the way
of all other pleasures, but it is not impossible that his name
may, like Joe Miller's, be perpetuated as the unwilling
godfather of a hook of conundrums. Sic transit yloria
Sammi."