father back into the life beneath the sun, and after rating him plentifully for the hardness of his heart, packed him off to that place which is never mentioned, and very rarely thought about, in polite society. Little Toby, as a child, was reared like Fielding, in accordance with the sentiments of the age, being well whipped every day, whether he deserved it or not; the only difference in his punishments being, that he was flogged a good deal worse when he had not misconducted himself than when he had. After passing some years at the Dumbarton Grammar School, he went to the University of Glasgow, where he studied with more than average diligence. In that city, also, he was bound apprentice to Mr. John Gordon, a respectable surgeon, et cetera. In Glasgow, the youth Tobias commenced the exercise of his talent for sarcasm and ridicule, holding all the " unco guid" of the city up to laughter, and making himself generally disagreeable, as a clever lad of sixteen or seventeen years is too apt to do. He was commonly spoken of as lacking "decorum," and being the exact reverse of proper. "On & winter evening," says Dr. Moore, "when the streets were covered with snow, Smollett happened to be engaged in a snow-ball fight with a few boys of his own age. Among his associates was the apprentice of that surgeon who is supposed to have been delineated under the name of Crab, in "Roderick Random." He entered his shop while his apprentice was in the heat of the engagement. On the return of the latter, the master remonstrated severely with him for his negligence in quitting the shop. The youth excused himself by saying that, while he was employed making up a prescription, a fellow had hit him with a snow-ball, and he had been in pursuit of the delinquent. "A mighty probable story truly," said the master, in an ironical tone, "I wonder how long I should stand here," added he, “before it would enter any mortal's head to throw a snow. v.'all at me." While he was holding his head erect, with a most scornful air, he received a very severe blow in the face with a snow-ball. Smollett, who stood behind the pillar at the shop door, had heard the dialogue; and perceiving that his companion was puzzled for an answer, he extricated him by a repartee equally smart and d propos." I don't well see how it was possible for Mr. Crab, or Mrs. Crab, or the little Crabs to like Tobias after this! But he was a great favourite with the girls of the place. Girls always have a penchant for a naughty boy; and then this naughty boy wrote poetry about their eyelashes, and kissed them on all safe occasions without being so rude as to ask their leave. In his eighteenth year, Smollett found himself penniless, for his amiable grandfather died in that year without leaving him even a shilling to buy a rope with, and of course his well-to-do relations declined to assist him. They all said that poverty was a fine thing for a young man, and comforted their luckless kinsman with the assurance that adversity would "bring out all the stuff that was in him." To hear rich relations talk to a needy petitioner, induces the belief that the best thing a young man of fortune can do, is to make over his wealth to his enemy, or, if he has no enemy, get rid of it by placing it in the hands of a prodigiously religious banker. In his nineteenth year Smollett went to London, without patronage and without money, but with a wonderful tragedy, called "The Regicide," in his pocket. This drama ought, of course, in the author's estimation, to have made his fortune; but, what with the folly of noble patrons who wouldn't take it up, and the stupidity of managers who wouldn't present it, it did not do any such thing. Finding society did not just at that time stand in need of his dramatic genius, and that he ran a good chance of starving, unless he turned lacquey or pickpocket, he gladly accepted the appointment of surgeon's-mate, on board a ship of the line, in the expedition to Carthagens in 1741. Than such a post none can be conceived more calculated to disgust a man with the remotest affinity to a gentleman. A surgeon's mate in those days, was treated worse than a Jew in "the dear old middle ages;" on board, the superior officers made him their drudge, and spoke of him, if they ever condescended to speak of him at all, as they would of a mangy dog, and the common sailors naturally hated him for being so despicable, and yet their better. Smollett was no great length of time in the service. He quitted it in the West Indies; and after a residence of considerable duration there, he returned to London in 1746, four years after the appearance of Fielding's first novel, Joseph Andrews." The great result of his West Indian excursion was, winning the heart and hand of the beautiful and accomplished Miss Lascelles, whom he married, after his return to England, in 1747. On his landing in Britain after an absence of about five years, the news of the day was the blood-thirsty vengeance taken on the unfortunate Highlanders, after the battle of Culloden, by the blood-stained victor. The following passage, nervous and simple in style, from Smollett's history, will best tell what stories came to his ears. "In the month of May the Duke of Cumberland advanced with the army into the Highlands as far as Fort Augustus, where he encamped; and sent off detachments on all hands to hunt down the fugitives, and lay waste the country with fire and sword. The castles of Glengary and Lochiel were plundered and burned; every house, hut, or habitation met with the same fate without distinction; all the cattle and provision were carried off; the men were either shot on the mountains like wild beasts, or put to death in cold blood, without form of trial. The women, after having seen their husbands and fathers murdered, were subjected to brutal violation, and then turned out naked with their children, to starve on barren heaths. One whole family was enclosed in a barn and consumed to ashes. Those ministers of vengeance were so alert in the execution of their office that, in a few days there was neither house, cottage, man, nor beast to be seen within a compass of fifty miles; all was ruin, silence, and desolation." On receiving intelligence of such barbarities, his blood rushed through his heart hot as fire, and tears burnt his cheeks. He felt that which, when a poet feels it, he must speak or die. The outpouring of his indignant pity who is ignorant of? THE TEARS OF SCOTLAND. WRITTEN IN THE YEAR 1746. Mourn, hapless Caledonia, mourn The wretched owner sees afar What boots it, then, in ev'ry clime, Through the wide-spreading waste of time, Thy martial glory, crown'd with praise, Still shone with undiminish'd blaze? Thy tow'ring spirit now is broke, What foreign arms could never quell, Thy rural pipe and merry lay No strains but those of sorrow flow, O! baneful curse! O! fatal morn! The pious mother, doom'd to death, Smollett and some friends met in a tavern, when all the company settled down to cards, with the exception of the poet who, taking a seat apart from his companions at a writing-table, occupied himself with polishing these verses. Graham of Gartmore, observing the earnest expression of his countenance, charged him with being engaged in the composition of poetry. Smollett replied by reading the stanzas aloud. On his finishing the recitation, those present made their criticisms, and concurred in saying they were too strongly expressive of sentiments which would give offence to persons in power. At these remonstrances a flash of generous anger ran from Smollet's and reeyes, suming his seat he dashed off, on the spur of the moment, one more stanza for a conclusion. While the warm blood bedews my veins, |