The Sun.
London, England, 1835-06-01 00:00:00

FRASER'S MAGAZINE.

The broad extravaganza entitled the " Return from
Leave," is, judging from the style of its humour,
penned by the same hand as the " Nights at Mess" in
the present number of Blackwood. It is by far the best
article in " Fraser." The sketch in particular, of the
Irish post-boy, and his ingenious mode of making un-
willing chaise-horses clatter along at full gallop, by
tying a whisp of lighted straw to their tails, is as good
as any of Hatchway's practical jokes in Smollett's
" Peregine Pickle." We must subjoin a portion of
this laughable scene :

" When this desperate work hid continued for a couple of
minutes, Carty suddenly altered his tactics. He ceased to
strike ; and one of the spectators, thinking him ♦anquished
in the strife, exclaimed, By Gor, boy-o 1 the bastes have
flogged you entirely.'
" Divil a hap'orth, you spalpeen with an ugly face !' re-
turned our driver. start 'cm yet, never fear ! Padreen
agra, fetch me a sprig of furze out of the gap ; and, little
Thady, my blessings on you! just rowl a taste of red turf in
a whisp of straw, and bring it hither to me. I'll engage, your
honour, we'll go by an' by, if we have any luck.'
" His emissaries performed the parts assigned; one bring-
ing a branch of a furze bush, and the other appearing with a
bundle of straw; but for what purposes these adjuncts to his
cudgel were paraded I could not guess. Now, boys,' said
Carty, one o' ye's howld the head of the cowlt firm till I give
the word. Are ye ready with the whisp ?'
" ' We are,' answered little Thady.
" Give it a whisk in the wind till it lights, my bouchal ;
and, Padreen, lift up the old horse's tail, and shove the sprig
between it and the crupper.'
" By George, I won't stand this 1' cried 1; these vaga-
bonds will have us dashed to pieces. You, Carty—Carty, you
scoundrel ! do'nt you hear ?'
" I do, your honour,' answered Jack ; but I'll engage
we won't keep you long now, any way.'
I'll not pay you a farthing,' I roared; I'll break your
head ; I'll--'

" Ah now, sir, sit aisey, can't you?' interrupted my com-
panion, in a most dissatisfied tone.
" When I screach ' Off,' thrust the whisp under the cowlt's
belly, in God's name !" cried Carty, and his myrmidons pro-
mised to obey him.
" I endeavoured to let down the front window, which, by
the way, was nearly all panel, with a little square pane of
glass at top, in order to check the driver's hand with mine,
but it was immovable. Padreen had the old horse's tail in his
left hand, the furze-bush in his right ; a flickering flame began
to wreath round little Thady's handful of straw ; Carty again
crammed his hat down on his brows, and held his reins tight;
I expected almost immediate annihilation ' and the crowd was
hushed in the expectation of the eventful' off.'
" !' roared Carty : it did as well es off.' Pa-
dreen applied his prickles to the unfortunate brute's crupper ;
little Thady's straw blazed between the colt's hind legs ; and
with a jerk which I should have thought sufficiently violent to
break five pairs of traces, we dashed forward into the gloom
at a rate that in a few seconds left the shouters of Kildorrerey
far behind."

The portrait of Alaric Attila Watts is of course a
caricature. The Memoir affixed—if such a thing can
be called a Memoir—is a downright assault and battery
on Mr. Watts's pretensions as a Lyrist of the Heart.
We cannot approve the animus that pervades this
sharp and stinging Memoir. The " Three Sisters" is
a blank verse poem by Hogg, containing sonic good
lines, and a prodigious number of lame ones. James
is no hand at blank verse. Under his unskilful ma-
nagement, it halts like a spavined hack. The " Poets
of the Day" is a quizzical notice—or rather collection
of notices—of some of the most eminent poetic failures
of the day. Poor Mr. Michell, with his spick-and-
span new talc of the Crusades and Chivalry, is mauled,
as severely as if he were under the discipline of Tom
Cribb. In the " Whigs' Last Trick" Ministers are
abused in a style, ridiculous and ineffective from its
very ferocity. _