reason, Mr Spy, but it is only a speci- || the most devoid of genius, and the But ous subterfuge. I can by no means think, that because we often meet with company too dull and tasteless, and too destitute of knowledge, to afford any very instructive conversation, that therefore a fashion should be persevered in even by those of the highest ranks in life, which renders all company almost equally stupid, and equally insipid. It would be much better to endure such company as were incapable of agreeable conversation, when people have the misfortune to fall into it, with as much patience as they could summon upon the occasion, and to collect such ideas as they were capable of conveying, rather than persist in a practice which puts all company upon a level. such is the effect of fashion, that I have often known cards called for in companies, who were extremely capable of sustaining instructive conversation. This is a much greater trial of my patience, Sir, than the occasional endurance of the conversation even of the most ignorant and thoughtless. One is sometimes at least diverted by their absurdities; but cards afford to me as little amusement as instruction. And I cannot but regard it both as the interest and the duty of persons of taste, sentiment, and knowledge, to take every opportunity of discountenancing a species of fashionable amusement, which is only adapted for the propagation and perpetuation of ignorance; which occasions a shameful waste of that time which might be more beneficially as well as agreeably employed; which is equally useless to the body and to the mind; and which is only calculated to please those persons of both sexes, who are most insignificant and frivilous. A celebrated modern writer says of cards, "They are too trifling for me when I am grave; and too dull when I am cheerful." I entirely adopt his opinion concerning them. I do not consider it as an immorality to play at cards, if it were not for the waste of time; every moment of which ought to be held as precious: but I particularly dislike it for its extreme insipidity. It is not only unattended with any intellectual advantage, or improvement, but seems to me altogether unproductive of any rational pleasure. And as the enormous waste of time, which many people make in this paltry, though fashionable amusement, is certainly a great evil, so is its influence upon the minds of the thoughtless and the young. As I said before; in the dullest company which can almost be conceived, from a communication of ideas, something may frequently be learned; but I know of nothing we can be taught by cards, except it be selfishness, or avarice. deed, Sir, I consider the consummate ignorance that I meet with in some of my acquaintance, as resulting in a great degree from the practice of playing so much at cards. They could hardly, otherwise, be so totally unacquainted with every thing that is worth knowing. If persons find time hang heavy on their hands; the pleasures of conversation, of music, and of reading, with other amusements that might be introduced into polite society, are so much superior to that of cards, that I am surprised pleasanter methods of killing time, if it must be killed, have not been adopted or invented long ago. In It is needless to regret the decline of that most delightful of all amusements, I mean the singing of our ancient songs and ballads. Much pains have been taken to rescue these from oblivion, and their peculiar beauties have been acknowledged by all but, alas! one half of their excellence only has been preserved and shewn to the public; the original airs to which they were chanted, heightened the pleasurable effects produced by them upon the mind, to a degree that never can be conceived by those who have not heard them. The greatest mental delight I ever experienced, has been in listening to the goodwife, sitting at her wheel, singing these old warlike, or rural songs. I have seen the ruddy maiden turn round, ashamed of her tenderness, and wipe away the dropping tear that melted from her soft beaming eye, for the fall of Gil Morice, or Graham and Bewick. I have seen the brown healthy boys, all clad in blue drugget, sitting around the blazing ingle, each with his mouth open, and his eyes fixed on the dame, swallowing her inchanting strains with the utmost avidity. How I have seen their eyes kindle and glow, when they heard the feats of Old Maitland's three Sons, Robin Hood and the Three Giants, or the battle of Chevy-Chace! and instead of being wearied by the length of them, they would beg as a particular favour to hear some favourite parts a second time. I have even heard some of them cry, because she refused to begin and sing one of them all over again. These times are gone, Mr Spy, and are not likely ever to return. The songs, it is true, are preserved, and too many of them new attired; but the airs are lost, or on the very eve of being so, for ever. Yet, believe me, fond as I am of ancient lore, when I at length found these ditties in manuscript, or print, and knew them to be the same, I was nevertheless miserably disappointed. I found indeed that primitive simplicity and fire, which every breast must acknowledge; but the charm which they communicated to my youthful heart, when accompanied by the wild fairy airs, was vanished, and searched for in vain. I had conceived them to be compositions not only perfect in their model, but of the most superlative excellence. These were rational amusements, Sir, and these were the amusements in which our fathers delighted; but, O! tempora, O! mores, in these very houses where I have so often shared the inexpressible delight of hearing and singing the feats of our ancestors, even there is cardplaying become the evening amuse ment. This entertainment of singing old songs is still keenly cherished, and prevails throughout the greatest part of the Highlands; but in the south of Scotland, it is now confined to a few sequestered districts, and to a few of the most unpolished families in these districts. Like the verdure of the forest at the fall of winter, a few of the most hardy plants often sustain a remnant of their green leaves, after all the rest are stripped bare; but these too must soon wither, and fall before the coming storm. A friend of mine, however, who lately visited that country, informed me, that on examining the libraries of some old shepherds, he found they still contained a Family Bible, The Cloud of Witnesess, || sermon, having, I suppose, played too and two or three large sheaves of Bal lads. I intended, Sir, when I sat down to write this letter, to add some account of the most favourite amusements of different nations, and different ages, but I am afraid you will think it too long already; I will therefore conclude with an anecdote, which my friend lately witnessed in a country church: A man, who sat immediately before the minister, grew sleepy in time of late at cards on the preceding evening. He took snuff to arouse him, and immediately after pulled out his pocket handkerchief to wipe his nose, and with it a pack of cards, which scattered all about. The minister paused-looked at him and gave him the following shrewd, but mild rebuke-" David, you should really get your Psalm-book better bound." I remain, the Spy's Well-wisher and CONSTANT READER. KING EDWARD'S DREAM. THE heath-cock had whirr'd at the break of the morn, He slept---but his visions were horrid and grim; He saw the Scot's banner red streaming on high, That hero of heroes, so hated and fear'd, And grav'd on his helmet was Vengeance or Death. *The scene of this poem is laid on the banks of the river Eden in Cumberland, a day's march back from Burgh, on the sands of Solway, where King Edward I. died, cursing the Scots, in the middle of an expedition, in which he had sworn to extirpate them. In grim Ethiopia's burning domain, When whirlwinds huge mountains up-pile on the plain, The plaided blue Highlander, swift as the wind, The steel-cover'd phantom, he trembled to view, He look'd over meadow, broad river, and down From Ochel's fair mountains to Lammermoor brown; He still found his heart and desires were the same! He wish'd to leave Scotland, nor sceptre, nor name. He thought that his couch was the green mountain thyme, And beaming in majesty, stern and sublime! On the summit his eye, and the welkin between, A spirit approach'd him in form of a queen. At first she appear'd like a streamer of light, But still, as she near'd, she was form'd to his sight. Around her the winds and the echoes grew still, Like music that floats o'er the soft-heaving deep, So sweet were the tones on his fancy that broke, "What boots, mighty Edward, thy victories won? And climb to renown over mountains of slain. "I thought, (and I join'd my endeavours to thine,) The time was arriv'd when the two should combine; For 'tis known that they will, 'mong the hosts of the sky, And we thought that blest æra of concord was nigh. But ages unborn yet shall flit on the wing, And Scotland to England ere then give a King, "See yon little hamlet overshadowed with smoke, "But thy lonely spirit shall roam in dismay, |