all these instances, what inference are we to draw, except the obvious one of this Artist's universal genius for all the departments of the medical profession? So much the less, therefore, do we marvel at his having aided his less scientific but lively friend, in the further prosecution of his contest against the Medicean Family. Happy in such a coadjutor, Mr. Canning had scarcely reaped the glory of those matchless Odes which we republished in our former numbers, when he attempted something, if possible, still greater, and produced a satire upon a distinguished member of "the Family," a personage of some weight in the country, one who fills a certain space, in the public eye, the gravity of whose fundamental feature is deeply engraven on the recollection of all accurate observers :-we mean his Honour the Chancellor of the Duchy, or, as the Poet familiarly calls him, "Brother Bragge;" or, as he sometimes phrases it, "The Venus de Medicis," in double allusion to his personal beauty and family connexion, aud the "Venus aux belles fesses," in respect of the feature already alluded to. This splendid work we have not yet recovered, at least in any thing like its original extent

and perfection; and therefore we decline publishing at present the few fragments of it which we have been able to collect. We entertain very sanguine expectations of speedily possessing the whole, or nearly the whole, of this great performance, worthy of ranking with the happiest efforts of Mr. Canning's highly gifted muse. In the mean time we rejoice in presenting the reader with a few lighter trifles (though not absolutely without weight) from the same pen. It appears clearly enough, that in producing the first of them there must have been a co-operation of the two Presidents; that both the Wood-land and the Indian Board must have contributed, the one its phlebotomy, the other its rhyme.

"The Doctor's blunders sore we rue,
And nauseate all his speeches;

Yet deem we not his practice new,
Like tricks of modern leeches.

No other course SANGRADO knew,
Long fam'd for patients' slaughter:
He from their veins their life-blood drew,
Then drench'd them with warm water.

The patient next, so high in blood,

Cupp'd, bled, and purg'd, as he thinks good,
He lowers to such condition,

That while he swears she's sweetly doz'd,
And safe, in peace serene, compos'd,
She dies of her physician."

There may be some who think there is more of surgery than of poetry in this piece. The following jeu d'esprit speaks for itself. It is smartly entitled," More of the Doctor."

"Old Rome in times of danger sought
Dictators from the plough,

And prosper'd.-We in England take
A different practice now:

For, when compell'd with modern France

And Bonaparte to wrestle,

We borrow our Dictator from

The mortar and the pestle."

Perhaps, in this, Mr. Canning may seem to have put equal parts of medicine and poetry.

nius.

An epigram is esteemed the very test of ge

See how our new Minister shines in this walk of poetry, as he does in all the walks of oratory, and indeed in its circuits, and journeys,

and even sea-voyages, as well as its walks. The subject is an ample one-the Ministry of the day, viz. the Addington family, Lord Liverpool, Lord Castlereagh, Mr. Vansittart, Mr. Yorke, &c. &c.

If blocks can from danger deliver,
Two places are safe from the French:
The first is the mouth of a river;

The second, the Treasury Bench."

We have heard of a charade of exquisite workmanship to the same purpose, and are promised an authentic copy of it, but must for the present break off. We cannot however close this number without observing, that the curiosity excited by these singular remains is so great, that we are induced to listen to the request of many correspondents, and purpose to republish from time to time, during the remainder of the Session, one or two of the Odes already given.

No. VI.

July 2, 1816.

THE natural effect of present objects, more especially shining ones, is to dim our recollection of the past, and not unfrequently to raise a disbelief in former things with which they seem inconsistent. Such has been our case of late in witnessing the showy cordiality between Mr. Canning and "all the Doctors," his tender salutations of the Lord Castlereagh, his profound deference towards Mr. Bragge, his wanton courtship of the Premier and the Doctor-in-Chief, and the more quiet endearments of his intercourse with the Mister Hiley. Scenes like these, while they attract and gratify the curiosity of the observer, are calculated to raise in him, alternately, doubts of the accuracy of his senses, and of the existence of very recent events. In despite of these feelings, however, we are compelled once more to recall the literature of times that are past, and to continue our Reminiscences.

True genius is known by the universality of its successes. It is given to but a favoured few to shine alike on the table and on the floor; to