abroad—and at sea-to have the pleasure of seeing their faces again or of looking upon their graves-and re membering who had buried their friends and relations. We do not, of course, give the very words: we only say that, substantially, the sermon of Mr. E. to his insulted congregation, was what we have said. Immediately after his return, he undertook the North American Review: and held on, (lecturing, meanwhile, upon Greece,) until Mr Sparks, another ex-unitarian minister, left his congregation to become the Editor, about a twelvemonth ago. X. Y. Z. THE CONFESSIONS OF A CANTAB. * I AM extremely happy to hear that my Confessions have already performed very essential services at Cambridge, and that they have worked iniracles upon the reading part of the "Gentlemen of the first year," who made their appearance at that University in October last. I understand that not one of them has dared to accept an invitation to a supper party-that they actually hold their noses and take to their heels if one of the Gyps should happen to pass them with a bowl of punch-and that Peregrine Mobray is inscribed in large letters over each of their mantlepieces. "For what purpose?" the reader will perhaps ask.-Why, I am credibly informed by divers Masters of Arts, Fellows, and Private Tutors, that if the eyes of their pupils, wandering from mathematic lumber, should chance to fall upon my name, their devotion for circles, squares, sines, tangents, and id genus omne, is instantly re-kindled and revived, and that they apply themselves to their labours with renewed vigour; in fact, that the very mention of me has become a complete bug-bear and scarecrow to indolence and convivial parties among reading men of every year and of every college, and I should not indeed be at all surprised if the Dons were to offer me a Fellowship for the sake of calling me into residence, and exhibiting me as a warning to all incipient reading men. Poor Ferret has written me a most doleful epistle, beginning with "O kruel sur," in which he informs me that he is ruined, (or, as he writes, that his " bred is deprived of im, and his liveleud gorn,")that no one will take the rooms which I occupied, and that my Confessions have made so great an impression upon the reading men, that one of them actually broke a poor Frenchman's head with the new edition of Maltby's Thesaurus (in quarto) for exhibiting the wooden Punch under his window. I have desired a man of my acquaintance to move into the rascal's rooms immediately; and I have forwarded him ten pounds, as I told him, by way of douceur, for "shewing him up in print,” as he calls it; and my worthy landlord has said, that if all dowsers were like that, he would have a set-to every day of his life. My Gyp, who was also a Ferret, (in word and deed,) has not forgotten to favour me with an epistle also, telling me that he "don't want no blunt, but he hopes that I wont think of telling the story of Hebe and Ganymede.” With his request, however, I certainly cannot think of complying. The story, which he is so anxious about, is far too good to be consigned to oblivion. It is simply this-I found him one day very tipsy, with his face dreadfully scratched, and his eyes in mourning (as it seemed) for the loss of two of his front teeth. Upon inquiry, it turned out that he had had the misfortune to learn to * I take this opportunity of acknowledging the receipt of divers letters, directed to "Peregrine Mobray, Esq." Masters, Fellows, and Tutors, have written to me, begging me to continue these papers, as zealously, and in much the same style, as the Ordinary of Newgate exhorts criminals before the Debtors' Door to confess all they know. Sisters, maiden aunts, and blue-stocking matrons, write, with tears in their eyes, hoping and trusting that my conduct will be a warning to their dear Thomases, Johns, &c., (Freshmen, I suppose ;) while some of my old college companions have congratulated me upon "putting the Brutes up to a thing or two.” Vom XVI. 4 D read-to obtain a translation of Anacreon-and to embrace the doctrines of the Teian bard. Nor did his troubles end here. He actually mistook the gin and water at the Vine Tavern for the "juice of the grape". in Anacreon-and was prompted, on the day in question, by his evil genius, to call the waiter Ganymede, and the bar-maid his fat little Hebe. Neither of these personages, however, appear to have understood the compliment, for the waiter assaulted poor Ferret most furiously, swearing that "he would not be called names by a damned Gyp like him,"-and the bar-maid, declaring, with tears in her eyes, that it was a vile calumny, joined the fray, tooth and nail, and told him that "she would teach a scrub like him to call an honest girl his fat little He-b-h.” But to leave these correspondents, and attend to communications from a more respectable quarter, I must inform the reader, that, notwithstanding the favour with which my Confessions have been received by many of the Dons, there has been some fault found with me for not tracing my decline and fall gradually, instead of plunging at once in medias res. By these means-by thus detailing the symptoms of the disease-I might, I am told, have put all Freshmen on their guard against the inroads of the same. "It is a complaint that should be checked very early in its career," observes the author of the letter in which this suggestion is contained. Now, if that gentleman, whom I take to be one of the Professors of Medicine, (and who appears to regret that I have not compiled a kind of " Buchan's Domestic Medicine," for the use of under graduates,) mean to insinuate that I was one of that numerous class of Freshmen who read themselves purblind during the first term, and are then estranged from the orthodox path by some evil-disposed person or persons unknown, he is altogether mistaken. My apostacy was not, in my opinion, owing to any dislike to fair and manly study, but to the style of Cambridge reading, (which I have faithfully described in my former paper,) and to a very vio lent attack of μadnuarino-polía, which I never could get the better of. I tried the object of my dread as in hydrophobia, but, God bless you, gentle reader, it made me ten times worse. For the benefit of my last-mentioned correspondent, I will state my case as faithfully, and, for the sake of my readers, in as few words, as possible. I came up to Cambridge with the intention of reading for Honours ;-my first night's debauch certainly made me waver, but soda water and a red herring would in all probability have restored me to my good resolutions on the following morning, had not the first mathematical lecture disgusted me, and had I not made the discovery that my classics would be of little or no use, if unaccompanied by a very extensive stock of mathematics, which I always detested. So much, then, for my apostacy from the faith, which I had the misfortune to hear preached for ten terms at Cambridge, viz. that "the chief end of man was to learn mathematics." As to the follies I committed, and the scrapes I got into, during my undergraduateship, the reader may attribute them to what he pleases. For my own part, I should think that an unlucky propensity for mischief, and a great deal of time upon my hands, are causes as likely to have produced such effects as any that can be assigned. And now, having dispatched my correspondents, I will, with the reader's permission, resume the thread of my discourse, and continue my confessions from the last Number of Mr Ebony's excellent Magazine-that periodical of periodicals. When I awoke in the morning, I had but a confused and vague recollection of the events of the preceding evening. While hurrying on my clothes, I endeavoured to bring to mind how, and when, I got home; but my attempts were vain-my retrospective optics were completely punched out, and I contented myself with discovering that I had at least reached my rooms in safety. However, as I awoke in time for morning * The doctrine at Cambridge is, that soda-water and a red-herring will sober any one. I rather doubt it. chapel, (seven o'clock,) I conceived that I could not have been very tipsy,* although my parched lips and flushed cheeks seemed to insinuate the contrary. My cogitations and my dress completed, I went to chapel for the first time-found the men half dressed-quite asleep-(some stretched at full length upon the benches)-and the reader galloping through the service à toute bride. I supposed that he had either wagered to get over the prayers in ten minutes-(such things have been)-or, that he was paid as some journeymen carpenters are, by the piece, and not by the hour. But the actual reason for his indecorous speed was, I apprehend, that he, in common with his auditors, was anxious to get to bed again- -a very common practice among college men, and, moreover, a very pleasant one. No man can possibly understand and relish the luxury of bed, if he have never half dressed himself-ran out for a quarter of an hour, or ten minutes-felt all the shivering misery of getting up and then indulged himself by going to his warm bed again. This for the winter. In summer, if the reader would taste a second sleep in perfection, let him jump out of bed, (will-he nil-he,) wash his hands and face, and then, returning to the place from whence he came, compose himself again to slumber. I am aware that many persons have not resolution enough to follow these prescriptions, and they are very much to be pitied-and the only substitute for the above luxuries which I can recommend them, is to order themselves to be called every half hour from seven o'clock till ten, to reflect upon the misery of getting up for one minute, and then turn round again and go to sleep. If the morning should happen to be frosty, let them, by all means, put their toes out of bed for a moment or two, just long enough to feel the cold, and then draw them in again. But, to leave men and sleeping in general, and to confine myself to Cambridge in particular, the reader must be informed, that Cantabs are compelled to leave their warm beds at seven o'clock every dark winter's morning, to go to chapel, whereby they run the risk of breaking their shins against the scrapers as they run along the streets-to say nothing of catching cold from the Cambridge fogs, which are as heavy as mathematicians, and as damp as horse-ponds. These are the men for a second sleep. During my stay in chapel, I was particularly struck by the altar-piece, which was perpetrated, I believe, by West-perhaps when he was drunk, or very bilious-and while I contemplated the gaudy daub, which is as tasteless in design as it is unskilful in execution, I was completely at a loss which to admire most-the extremely good opinion which the artist must have had of his own productions before he could expose such a painting to the public eye, or the good-natured simplicity of the persons who suffered Trinity Chapel to be the scene of the exposure. These worthy gentlemen, whoever they may happen to have been, were certainly men after Sterne's own heart, "who would be pleased, they knew not why, and cared not wherefore." The painting is supposed to represent the Archangel Michael (or some other of those angelic commanders, who are indebted to Milton for their commissions) in the act of thrusting Satan into the bottomless pit. This task, which does not appear to be by any means an easy one, Michael is performing by goading the swarthy Casar-aut-nihil on the head with a spear. West could not surely have supposed, that "Finding no hole in his coat, He pick't one in his head." If such were really his opinion, our artist's acquaintance with ecclesiastical history must have been very confined indeed. The devil is described in the picture as a yellow, middleaged, ill-looking kind of personage. For the benefit of the unsophisticated, (meaning, of course, Freshmen,) the term drunk is too often misapplied. If a man, after being put to bed, retain sense enough to hold by the sheets, it is unfair and ungenerous to call him drunk. He may be tipsy, bosky, cut, or anything but drunk. If, however, he be so far bereaved of all sense as to roll out of bed as fast as you put him in, I am afraid that he must then lie under the stigma of being drunk. dissolved, it will make a very excellent finale for them-(and if they do not invent something, God knows what they can find to prate about!) Not to mention that it will furnish one of the best examples extant of Bados in Whig-speechery. The reader has perhaps been supposing all this time, that it has escaped my memory that Horace had told the Pisos,"pictoribus atque poetis Quidlibet audendi semper fuit æqua potestas." His shoulders are adorned with small black wings, and his mouth with large white teeth, like a chimney-sweeper's, both of which make so formidable a display, that one feels inclined to advise Michael to look to his toes, which are situated much nearer his Satanic majesty's mouth than prudence would suggest. Talking, by the by, of the devil, it has often struck me as a very extraordinary circumstance, that poets and painters should have entertained such various and conflicting ideas of the person of that individual; and, in this place, one is particularly amused if one compares the representation of him on canvass, by West, with the description of him in poetry, by the ce lebrated scholar whose effigy is situ ated at the other end of the chapel. Some idea of the former's pourtraic ture has been given-the latter runs thus: From his brimstone bed, at break of day, And over the hill and over the dale He rambled, and over the plain; And backwards and forwards he switch'd his long tail, As a gentleman switches his cane. "And pray now, how was the Devil dress'd ?" "Oh, he was in his Sunday's best : His coat it was red, and his breeches were blue, With a hole behind, which his tail went through." The reader may laugh-but want of knowledge as to the person of the devil is no subject for merriment; the matter ought to be looked into, and some accurate information upon this point should be obtained. It would be impossible for any good Christian to recognize him now, even if he were to cross his path. The Whigs, when they have done with Missionary Smith, will perhaps turn their attention to this negligence on the part of Ministers. After the share they took in that business, it will be quite impossible for them to lower themselves in the opinion of the country; and as Parliament is about to be But it has not; I recollect it very well, only I deny the truth of his observation, and cannot help thinking that this luckless line and a half has brought more hot-pressed duodecimo volumes of poetry upon the public, than all the gold-beaters and chandler-shop-keepers in the united kingdom will get rid of by Doomsday. I have rather bolted from the course, I believe, in the last sentence or two; but as I had to confess that I was rather amused than edified at chapel, it was perhaps worth while to give a reason for the wickedness that was in me. I will now proceed. The service concluded, I hastened home for the purpose of breakfasting and preparing for lectures. The reader will judge with what surprise I contemplated my domicile, which I found so completely metamorphosed, that I scarcely knew it again. Divers holes were bored in my mantel-piece, and a red-hot poker was lying in the middle of my carpet; my books, which I had arranged with so much care and trouble on the preceding day, were in utter disorder; my sofa was torn; the frame of my looking-glass studded with cards, bearing the names of men I never heard of; and- -But to describe all the changes that had taken place during my short absence would be impossible, and I shall merely furnish one more subject in the picture-My Gyp was busily employed in scratching my beautifully varnished tea-cady with a penknife! Of course I should not long have continued a silent spectator of the scene, even if Ferret had not broken silence with, "Hope you an't the worse for last night's work, sir?"-persevering, at the same time, with the • Professor Porson. greatest industry in demolishing my tea-cady, and turning the edge of my penknife." As to last night's work,' I replied, "I recollect very little about it; but, whatever harm I may happen to have sustained from that, this morn ing's work seems likely to turn out much more injurious. Why don't you put down the knife ?-what the devil do you mean by destroying the things in that manner? Put down the knife, I say, and tell me instantly who has been amusing himself with tearing my sofa, decorating my rooms with the cards of men I never spoke to in my life, and"-"Who, sir ?” interrupted Ferret,-" come, that's a good -Who, sir ?-Why, who should it be but myself?-all my own, sir, upon my"- "Your own, you scoundrel you !—and how dare you?" un "Dare!-come, that's a good undare!-Oh, oh! I see how it isyou don't recollect what you told me last night, sir, eh ?-Cut to the nth*pretty goings on for a Freshman, sir Lord, how cut you must have been !" "Cut!" I exclaimed, looking in the glass, "cut-where?" Ferret grinned. More than ever enraged with the incomprehensible dog, I seized him by the collar, declaring, that if he did not instantly explain the meaning of what I saw, I would break every bone in his skin. "Well, sir," replied Ferret, "be patient, and I'll tell you all about it. You see, sir, when you came home last night, I let you in, and lighted you up to your room. Well, sir, I see directly that you were tipsy like-or, as we say, cut; and says I to you, Do you want anything to-night, sir? With that you seizes me by the collar, as you did just now, and says-Ferret, says you, if you don't make my rooms like a senior Soph's, I'll break your head for you; and if I find any thing fresh about them when I get up in the morning, I'll cut your throat for you. Well, you see, sir, I did as you said. As to the sofa being torn a little, why, Lord bless you, sir! it may as well be done now as not you'll be sure to get a hole or two in it at the first wine party you give ; Cut to the nth, means infinitely cut. and then you see, sir, it looks know. ing like to have plenty of cards stuck in your glass, cause it's like a gay man ; and, as I didn't know the names of your friends, I took the liberty o' putting them there up till I found "em out."-By this time I had been ena bled to give a pretty shrewd guess at my condition on the preceding night, and replied, "Well, well, Ferret, I cannot contradict you perhaps I did tell you so; but why deface the tea cady?" Lord, sir, this an't a face-I an't been a-drawing no faces on it-Look here sir, I've writ DOCES." "Doces? and what is the mean ing of doces ?" "My eyes, sir! don't you know the meaning of doces ?→→ why doces is the Latin for, Thou Teachest+-I've heard a great many gentlemen say so, and seen 'em write it on their tea-cadies too-though some on 'em certainly prefers hæc canis can't say I understand the meaning of that-Do you, sir ?" "Make me some bitch directly," was my reply-Ferret disappeared. Breakfast is unquestionably a very pleasant thing to the principals, but as I am not yet convinced that it's interest extends to the looker-on, I shall take the liberty of requesting the reader to accompany me at once to the lecture-room,-supposing that I have already crammed myself with eggs, toast, coffee, and the first five propo sitions in Euclid. And here I must be allowed to remark once for all, that if I should seem to pass from one place to another somewhat too rapidly, it is because the intervening events are either unimportant or uninteresting. "Aut agitur res in scenis aut acta refertur," which, for the benefit of mathematicians, I translate, "events are either related to the reader, or he is to suppose them to have taken place." I reached the door of the lectureroom about five minutes before the appointed time. This work of supererogation in the duties of punctuality, most men are guilty of for the first week, but they soon get the better of it. There I found some fifty or sixty "gentlemen of the first year," The late Lord Erskine is said to have been the author of this pun execrable. The word tea is never used at Cambridge. It is always called bitch. |