The Sun.
London, England, 1834-07-01 00:00:00

MAGAZINE DAY.

BLACKWOOD'S MAGAZINE.

The " Noctes," and more especially that portion of them
where James Hogg figures as chief talker, are the gem of
this number. We were prepared for much amusement
from the Shepherd's account of his late trip to London ; nor
have we been disappointed. James's sketch of the modern
Babylon is the best we have ever met with—and we have
met with some hundreds—it is dashed off at a heat, in the
broadest and most vivid colours. Here it is :
" Embro', as a town, taken't by itself 's no muckle amiss, but
I canna help considerin't but a clachan sin' my visit to Sunnors.
Mercy on us, what a roar o' life ! Ane would think the haill
habitable yerth had spewed it's haill population until that whirlpool!
or that that whirlpool had sook't it a' in—nsair like a Maelstrom
than a Metropolis I"

James then proceeds to oblectate the auriculars of
Christopher North, by a history of the sore trials to which
his virtue was exposed in the second tier of boxes at the
large theatres. He was sadly beset, it seems, by divers fair
frail ones, and really, considering the temptation, we cannot
wonder at, though we may bitterly lament, their importuni-
ties. But James proved himself a Joseph. He thought
of the " gude-wife" at the " ingle-nook" in Ettrick Forest,
and girding up his loins, fled from the seductions of the
Covent-Garden Potiphars, and then, by way of calming
down„and dulcifying his disquieted spirit, hurried home and
penned a volume of " lay sermons !" Poor James! con-
ceive him at the theatre, wedged fast, as it were, between
two fires, with black eyes flashing on him on one side, and
blue eyes on the other ; afraid to look either to the right
or the left, and prevented, no doubt, by some huge woman
in a poke-bonnet, from looking straight-forward on the
stage! Had he fallen, though there would have been
" weeping and gnashing of teeth" at Mount Benger ;
though Christopher would have been pathetic on his back-
sliding ; and the " Noctes," in token of shame and humilia-
tion, would have been printed with a black border round
the margin, still no one could have wondered—no one
could have been indignant at the Shepherd's slip.
But he passed, it seems, like the saints of old,
unsinged through the fiery furnace, though he assures us
that in the agony of his struggle in the boxes—which we
have every reason to believe took place on one of the hot-
test and most crowded nights of the season—he " could
na help lookin' round for some member o' the society for
the suppression o' vice." James, we repeat (whose name
is henceforth Joseph) is the gem of the present " Noctes."
Long may he live, to lend point and wit and eloquence to
its columns ! " Christopher on Colonsay" is by Professor
Wilson. It is in his best manner. " The cruise of the
Midge" possesses much of the broad, dashing spirit of
" Tom Cringle's Log." The coming-on of a sudden squall,
with the scene of confusion that ensues on board-ship is
drawn to the life.

" I followed the direction in which he pointed, the column of
rain was still falling straight down, and as well defined as if it had
been a waterspout in reality, when all at once the lower part of it
was once more bent to an angle of thirty degrees with the horizon,
but continuing very dense and opaque. In a few moments the
whole pillar of water took the same oblique direction, until it
slanted straight as a sunbeam shooting forth from heaven. It con-
tinued as thick and impenetrable to the sight as ever for the space
of half a minute, when, as if scattered by a tornado, it suddenly
vanished in smoke, and the weather cleared ; and right to wind-
ward, a white line crept down towards us, like dust flying along
the road in a stormy day, after a long drought. The roar of the
approaching squall increased, as did the swell, which now rolled
on in mountainous undulations; and although it was calm as death
where we lay tumbling about, the little vessel groaned and lurched
lilt an evil spirit on his bed of liquid fire, while the tops of the seas
began to break and growl as if the very waves had become con-
scious of the approaching tormenta.
" It was now eight -o'clock in the morning ; but in the place of
getting lighter, the clouds had settled down so darkly that the fri-
gate had to make the night signals with lanterns, to heave-to with
our head to the southward, until we saw what might turn up.
Sharp was the word—we prepared to do so—but before a single
rope could be let go, the squall struck us, and for a minute, not-
withstanding all our precautions, the Midge was fairly laid down
on her beam ends, and I thought she would have turned keel up
regularly; however, the moment we were enabled to lay her to
with her head to the southward and westward, she breasted it like
a sea-gull, and, confident in her weatherly qualities, I had time
amidst the row to cast a glance at the Commodore and the Mer-
chantman. The former was lying-to under storm-staysails, rolling
and plunging most delightfully, now rising on a heavy sea and
making a bow to us, and then descending entirely out of sight—
but the poor ship ! All seemed confusion on board of her. Whe-
ther it was that they had been deceived by the long time the wind
hung in the distance, anti had persuaded themselves that there
would be no squall worth dreading after all, or the accident of
losing the fore-topgallant mast had confused them, I cannot tell,
but they had not been able to get in their canvass in time, so that
everything had to be let go by the run when the squall came down,
and the consequence was, that the fore and maintopsails had been
fairly blown out of the bolt ropes, and were now streaming straight
out in ribbons, while the foresail, which had stood, laid her over
on her beam ends. The crew were, while I looked, endeavouring
to set the jib, in order to get her away before the wind ; but a sea
at the very moment struck her, washing the boats off the booms,
and every thing else that would part company, and for a moment I
thought she would never have risen again."