seclusion of the solitary. An agreeable book, in intervals of leisure and retirement, is sometimes most acceptable company; the present work may possibly prove thus available.

"A book," says Sidney Smith, "has no eyes, and ears, and feelings; the best are apt every now and then to become a little languid; whereas a living one walks about, and varies his conversation and manner, amd prevents you from going to sleep. There is certainly a great evil in this, as well as a good; for the interest between a man and his living folio becomes sometimes a little too keen, and in the competition for victory they become a little too animated towards, and sometimes exasperated against, each other; whereas a man and his book generally keep the peace with tolerable success; and if they disagree, the man shuts his book, and tosses it into the corner of the room, which it might not be quite so safe or easy to do with a living folio."

The contents of this volume are not only various in kind,—variety may also be said to characterize its treatment, which has been attempted somewhat philosophically, poetically, ethically, satirically, critically, hypothetically, æsthetically, hyperbolically, psychologically, metaphysically, humourously—and, since brevity is the soul of wit, sententiously.

Having assumed so much adjectively on behalf of the book, nothing need be added respecting its adjunctivethe compiler; Shakspeare has, however, pourtrayed him with such singular fidelity, that we herewith present the effigy to the scrutiny of the reader:

"A votary of the desk,- -a notched and cropped scrivener,— one that sucks his sustenance, as certain sick

people are said to do-through a quill."

F. S.

SALAD FOR THE SOLITARY.

DIETETICS.

"The turnpike-road to people's hearts, I find,

Lies through their mouths, or I mistake mankind."-PETER PINDAR.

"May it please you to dine with us?"-SHAKSPEARE.

EVERY person of an appreciative taste knows how to estimate a good dinner; we do not appeal to those carnivorous animals who devour their repast with the impetuosity of beasts of prey. If a dish is delectable to the palate, why not prolong its enjoyment, and make the most of it? Do you profess yourself a person of taste?-then follow the example of the wits and literati of all ages. Dr. Johnson, no doubtful authority on the subject, affirmed, that "a tavern is the throne of human felicity!" We are not compelled to endorse his enthusiastic estimate, for he was accustomed to meet congenial spirits at his clubs as well as his favourite dishes. Smollett's house was often the scene of such festive gatherings, and his coteries comprised most of the distinguished men of letters of his day; epicures were they in a double sense. The clubs of London had their prototypes in the symposia

B

of the Greeks, and the convivia of the Romans. These associations were revived in the reign of Queen Anne, and were in the zenith of their glory in the days of Johnson, Addison, Steele, and Garrick. The Mermaid was the earliest on record in London. Gifford, in his memoir of Ben Jonson, has the following account of it: "Sir Walter Raleigh, previously to his unfortunate engagement with the wretched Cobham and others, had instituted a meeting of the beaux esprits at the Mermaid, a celebrated tavern in Friday Street. Of this club, which combined more talent and genius, perhaps than ever met together before or since, our author was a member; and here for many years he regularly repaired with Shakspeare, Beaumont, Fletcher, Selden, Cotton, Carew, Martin, Donne, and many others whose names, even at this distant period, call up a mingled feeling of respect and reverence. Here, in the full flow and confidence of friendship, the lively and interesting 'wit combats' took place between Shakspeare and our author; and hither, probably in allusion to them, Beaumont fondly lets his thoughts wander, in his letter to Jonson from the country,

'What things have we seen

Done at the Mermaid! heard words that have been
So nimble and so full of subtle flame,

As if that every one from whom they came
Had meant to put his whole wit into a jest.""

The "Kit-Kat Club," one of the most renowned of the clubs, was originated in the year 1700, and was the rendezvous of the nobility as well as the dilettanti and cognoscenti. Horace Walpole remarks that its members included not only the wits of the time, but the patriots that saved Britain. Although in respect of the rank of its members it surpassed all similar institutions, it was very humble in its origin, and, if we may believe the accounts which are given of it, still more singular than humble. It appears, from a memoir of Mr. Jacob Tonson, the celebrated bookseller, who seemed to consider his membership of it, as well he might, the chief glory of his life, that it was established mainly through his agency. It seems that this worthy had conceived a remarkable fondness for certain delicacies prepared by a pastry cook in Gray's Inn Lane, and particularly for his mutton pies, and finally induced