take to point out all that have been inspiredinspired, indeed! it is to profane the wordcomposed, under the influence of "The music, and the banquet, and the wine, The garlands, the rose odours, and the flowers, of the world of fashion. It was not at Almack's that the true poet learned to “give to airy nothing a local habitation and a name. You would insinuate, then, that these smell of the lamp ?" asked Reginald, laughing at the other's warmth. "In one sense, certainly. Ah! how inferior is all this finery, contributed by jewellers, upholsterers, and mercers, to that gentle but majestic beauty, which is imparted by holding converse with Nature. How fresh are all the similes borrowed from her ever-varying aspect -how true and life-like all the images drawn from her boundless stores!" "Oh! Ashley," pleaded Helen, "do you then forbid us ever to borrow from art ?" "Do not urge him just now," said Reginald, "or I foresee he will answer rashly-we shall have him denouncing art itself, and branding poor Stacey as one of the multitude, who 'indite much metre with much pains.'" And little or no meaning?" asked she. "Not quite so bad as that," said Ashley, calming down; "though I am bold enough to assert, that, the more we copy from copies, the less shall we find of the real spirit of poesie." "Still," persisted Helen, willing to say what she could, in extenuation of Stacey, whose many amiable qualities made her lenient to his follies, though not blind to them; "still, you see, these poems, artificial as many confessedly are, sell well. Mr. Stacey writes for his patrons, and they buy what he writes." Yes, and he dedicates his rhymes to a woman, who is quite unable to comprehend true poetry-who made use of himself and his wife while it suited her-and forgot them in their distress, when the remembrance did not suit her. She now again coolly invites him, because he is the literary pet of the day, and still leaves his wife unnoticed, as if she were not in existence. It is such people, who, under the name of patronage, are the vam pires of intellect and true genius. Happily, a man of real talent does not need a patron now he has only to write, or paint, up to the mark, and society at large are his patrons; and, reversing the old order of phraseology, are his grateful patrons too." Ah! Ashley you are not consistentwhy, your old idols would never have lived till now, had not their inspirations been fostered. by the warmth of patronage, ay, and royal patronage too. Speak up, old Chaucer," continued Helen; "and say how your patron and friend aided and encouraged you. Faerie Queene, bring your own true poet, and bid him tell us of his brother bard and kindred spirit, the gallant Sidney. Why, if I were to summon them all, with their queenly and noble patrons, and they did come when 1 did call for them,' not this little room only, but not this large heath would hold them." 66 Well done, Helen," said Reginald; “you are fit to be Solicitor-General to defunct poets and their encouragers. Mind you ask for the appointment." "She has spoken well," returned Ashley; "but she forgets, that when John of Gaunt so nobly favoured Chaucer, very few, but those in the learned professions, could do more than read the scanty range of religious books then in MS.-that the great mass knew absolutely nothing but what they heard readthat even in the reign of Elizabeth, learning was only beginning to be diffused—and that directly patronage emanated from the mere courtiers, as in the time of Charles the Second, VOL. JH. G never was our literature so near total destruction-elegance and grossness went side by side the most noble sentiments were contaminated by union with the foulest ideas; so that, purified as it is, much of the treasure bequeathed by the fancy and imagination of that age, is as useless to the general reader, as if the benefit of a rich legacy were negatived by the condition, that we should inhabit a pest-house, and there alone enjoy it." "I entirely agree with you," said Reginald; " and then, only think of the miserable fawning, the fulsome panegyric, which the man with brains, so often paid to the man without." "Ah! it rejoices me to think, that we have at last made a step in the right direction," said Ashley, his fine face glowing with enthusiasm; "the man of letters, has at last said he will also be the man of independence, and live respectably and honestly by his labour." What a fellow you are, Ashley!" exclaimed Reginald, who had been looking at him with friendly delight-"I wish Constance had been here, to have caught your look, and transferred it to her collection of celebrated character portraits, about which she talked with such animation when in town." Silenced, at least, on this subject, Ashley walked towards the window, and in a tone com pletely subdued, turning soon after to Helen, he said—" When am I to have that portrait of you and my godson, which Mrs. C-promised to send home last week?" Oh! it is done, all but the hands," she said laughing; " and they are to have a sitting by themselves." And I promise you, that Constance will give you no peace, till she has a copy of this your modern Madonna-she was crazy about it, after having seen it when only half done,” remarked the mal-apropos Reginald; and again Ashley's eloquence forsook him-when, happily, Mrs. Stacey was announced. She apologized for seeming, as she said, to haunt Mrs. West, but the temptation was very strong; and the latter assured her, that if the visits of ghosts were always as agreeable as hers, no one need dread them. And where is Mr. Stacey ?" asked Helen of his wife, when she came alone one evening, about a week afterwards, to see her; "though I shall not regret his absence, if it be the cause of securing me the pleasure of your company, as Mr. West dines to-day with Mr. Turner." "That is quite an unusual event, for him to leave you," remarked Mrs. Stacey. "Our visiting list, to talk fashionably," |