REMARKS ON A JOURNEY TO SCOTLAND. SIR, As [From the General Evening Post, Aug. 3.} TO THE EDITOR. SI was some time since travelling down to the north, a portfolio was brought to me by the waiter at an inn, where I stopped to change horses, with a request that I would deliver it to an elderly gentleman, should I chance to overtake him, who had left it behind him there a few minutes before I arrived. As, however, I had not the fortune to overtake the gentleman, and have never been able to trace him, I opened the portfolio a short time ago, with a view of discovering the owner by its contents. In this object I was disappointed; but I found amongst its contents some speculations, so new and curious, that I cannot help feeling a wish that the public may, through the medium of your paper, be informed of them, whilst at the same time such a publication may give to the owner an opportunity of reclaiming his property. The first sheet I examined, contained "Remarks on a Journey to Scotland, relative to the effects of my Bill;" of which remarks, the following extracts may serve to give some idea : : "Three miles on this (the Scotch) side of Barnet, met the old Stamford Fly, eighteen outsides." "Four P. M. Biggleswade, N. one mile, York Highflyer, boxes on top ten inches by observation, above Act. Q. Whether my quadrant is correct?" "Six o'clock-Passenger driving Edinburgh mail." "Broad-wheel waggons, enormous weights, wheels conic sections. Q. Whether parabolic or hyperbolic?” Several sheets were filled with similar notes, of which the above is a sufficient specimen. I found also what appeared to be minutes of a proceeding at the Board of Agriculture, and a project for a British Herring Fishery REMARKS ON A JOURNEY TO SCOTLAND 295 Fishery at John-o'Groat's House. But by far the most curious and interesting paper is entitled, "An Essay on the Utility of soft Paper, and a Project for extend ing its Use to all the Necessaries of Life." This Essay being fairly and carefully written out, apparently for the press, the singularity of the title induced me to give it an attentive perusal, and I was much gråtified by finding it contained matter equally new, curious, and important. After expatiating at some length on the great advantages which the nation has experienced by the substitution of paper for coin, the unknown author proceeds to develope a plan for substituting this valuable substance in the room of all, or the greater part of those bulky and expensive articles called necessaries of life; for, as he says, bread, beef, pork, and mutton, being very costly, not only in the production, but in the transit from place to place, by substituting paper, under proper regulations, which is cheaper, and easily circulates from hand to hand, or from hand to mouth, not only a prodigious saving of labour will be the result, but the whole of our paro chial taxes may be saved, except such as are levied for the repair of roads (for which, says the author, see my Bill). Now, Sir, although such a scheme may ap pear a little visionary to those who still obstinately re ject the ideal or immaterial hypothesis of Berkeley; yet to me it appears perfectly satisfactory, being con vinced that all those substances are merely impressions upon the mind; that paper representing them, may produce the same impressions; and that a note issued by the Treasury, bearing the inscription, "I promise to give the bearer a pound of bread," may, to those who are not prejudiced, answer all the purposes of satisfying hunger. Nor can any thing be more reasonable, seeing that I pay my butcher with paper, purporting to be convertible into so many pounds sterling, but which pounds no one will give him for the paper, if he in return furnishes me with paper bearing the inscription of so many pounds of meat; for as the paper, not convertible into money, by the confidence which it bears, circulates with all the freedom of money through the body politic, why should not paper, the representative of beef, circulate in like manner through the body natural? for it would be extraordinary indeed, should the body or belly refuse to the mind of the same men, that confidence which every man places in the merest stranger to him. I regret much that I cannot, within the limits of a letter, more fully explain the system; I shall, however, unless this should bring me acquainted with the author, give his lucubrations at length to the world. 1 cannot, however, close this account, without just hinting at one or two other features of the system. One is a proposal to save brick and mortar by building houses of paper, of which several successful experiments are said to have been made in the city. Thus, Sir, it is interesting to a philosophic mind to observe, that the amusements of childhood often become the serious occupations of advanced life; but the most pleasing part of the plan is an admirable scheme for a paper war, and an infallible method of subduing all our foes by means of paper bullets. Enough has been said, I flatter myself, to show that I am in possession of a very valuable secret. My only fear at present is, that the French in this, as in some other projects, are beforehand with us; and, indeed, I strongly suspect they have already reduced it to prac tice, and that their army in Portugal has, for some months past, been fed and clothed with paper. I am, Sir, your most obedient servant, PAPIRIUS, Threadneedle Street, July 15. JEU CRIES JEU D'ESPRIT. [From the British Press, Aug. 6.] RIES Tag to his friend," Bob, were you at Old Drury, Last night, when my Richard so charm'd all the crowd? I hope you were there; but, if not, I assure ye, Nor Kemble nor Cooke e'er got plaudits so loud: You may smile-but 't is true-I had peal upon peal ; Such a flatt'ring reception was sure never seen." "No doubt," replied Bob, as he turn'd on his heel, "But the peals must be orange peels, Tag, that you mean. SONG. [From the Morning Chronicle, Aug. 6.] Tune-"'T was when the seas were roaring." 'TWAS when a new Election Was coming round again, Poor C****r, in dejection, "Some years are gone and over, Since I, a luckless rover, And let a Placeman rest; "My tongue I wag no longer, No naval news indite An ousted Borough-monger No Minister will ever find In Dublin town, or Cork, "How can they say that nature All melancholy lying, Thus wail'd he for his seat, No consolation spying, And scarce a meal to eat. Of this his mighty grief, Swan Tavern, near St. Martin's Lane, ON A DULL PREACHER. [From the British Press, Aug. 7.] But at a Text, or Sermon, he In Charity's blest aid one day But sad's the tale I've to impart ; H. G. A GOOD |