haps the author may be a soldier or a sailor-perhaps a priest or a lawyeran old man or a young one-a fine gentleman or a scrub-and it concludes nothing. Whereas, if we travel from "Melmoth" to "Pour et Contre," and thence to" Manuel," and so get, by regular stages to "Bertram," there we alight upon an explicit avowal that the Reverend Charles R. Maturin is the inditer thereof; and by logical consequence, of those divers and sundry aforenamed contributions to the stores of the reading public. As therefore Mr M.'s concealment neither is, nor is meant to be, complete, I think this difference between him and the other writer so great, that I have reason to strike him off my list of competitors for the Waverley laurel.

Without all doubt, the author of "Waverley" can vary his manner, and so, at will, be grave or gay, lively or severe. Hence, I once thought to have found him in the person of Mr Leigh Hunt; (whose name, by the bye, is James Henry Leigh Hunt-I like to be accurate-vide his Juvenilia, in which there is also a demure portrait of him ;) for he is described by his admirers as great in many species of authorship-great, as a political writergreat, as a poet-great, as a dissertator in prose, or story-teller-a sort of Hermes Trismegistus-in short, he may be reckoned omni-scriptive or pangraphic. Among other proofs, you may see an admirer's address to him, which he has printed, and it concludes thus: "Wit, poet, prose-man, party-man, translator,

H-, your best title yet is Indicator."

But my particular suspicions of him originated in this; that the fourth number of his Indicator contained a story of "The Beau-Miser, and what happened to him at Brighton." This was written with such verisimilitude, as Mr H. himself affirms, that some of his readers took it for a true circumstance, like those, I suppose, under the head of Police Intelligence in the Examiner newspaper. In the fifth number, therefore, to stop the spreading of this delusion, Mr H. was obliged to give notice that it was purely his own fabrication. "We wish," says he, "to correct this mistake; and shall make a point hereafter, of so wording any thing we write in the shape of a narrative, that a mere fiction shall not

be confounded with our personal experience." What a proof of the bearnaturel of the Beau-Miser! which, by the bye, does not mean a Wretched Beau, but a Penurious one. Now I am sure it will be granted that the Scotch Novels have scenes which quite as much resemble every-day life, as those in Mr L. H.'s misleading narrative-ergo, there is presumptive proof that they may have been written by the same accurate painter of manners. Nevertheless, I am induced to withdraw Mr H.'s claim; for, upon a comparison of styles, I find that of the Brighton incident, different from that in which the author of " Waverley" writes. The latter does not talk of a man" being twitched and writhed up;" nor of "a clipped off lock of hair being glossy and healthy!" Nor do I find in the Scotch works, any instance of a stranger having given a gentleman, as he talked with him," a thump on the shoulder, which made him jump”—nor of a beau having unconsciously walked about with an enormous coal-heaver's hat on his head, without finding it out, even when he went a-courting. All which, decorate the said truth-like fable of Mr H. So that, altogether, I dismiss Mr J. H. L. Hunt from the imputation of having had any concern with " Waverley," and its associates.

Dr Drake has tried his hand at a tale occasionally; and of late, in his" Winter Nights," he has given us his fireside story, called, "The Fate of the Bellardistons ;" and pretty enough it is. But, after all, I suspect that he is not the required author, as his taste in poetry differs so considerably from the Waverley wight, whose mottos, quotations, and small original pieces, betray that he adores the divine writers of the most palmy times of our literature, and at the same time possesses a keen relish for the best of those who now flourish. On the contrary, Dr D. has, I fear, a palate easily tickled with very homely condiments-he is far gone as a lover of mediocrity in poetry. Witness the laud he gave to Cumberland's Calvary, and to Mason Good's Translation of Lucretius; and, from the living aspirants to poetic fame, he presents to notice, as bards of most excellent promise, Messrs C. Neale, H. Neele, and J. Bird. No-Dr Drake must be acquitted of having written the works in question.

I will not trouble you with my rea

more."

The two-handed engine is evidently a printing-press; (say that of Minerva :) Publishers do actually talk of striking off an impression; and every one knows, that to strike and to smite are synonymous, and the words once and no more, can only allude to a single edition of a book. So that by the practice of the Minerva Press, we get an elucidation, which we should have never found had our attention been restricted to such rapidly reprinted publications as those of the author of "Waverley."

My critica vannus having winnowed away those who are not the desired authors, I trust that I can now present him who is, and this is no less a personage than CHRISTOPHER NORTH, Esq. Editor of Blackwood's Magazine, &c. &c. &c.

Let me then advance to the proof of it. My grounds for thinking you the public benefactor in this particular, lie in these circumstances:-1st, The author of " Waverley" chooses a sort of concealment; 2dly, He has great versatility in his style of composition; 3dly, He is well versed in the Scotish language; 4thly, He betrays a love of good cheer; 5thly, He is a Tory; and, 6thly, He cannot but be amassing wealth.

Now, is it not odd enough, that all these characteristics tally with the habits, tastes, and conditions of Squire North? Aut Erasmus, aut Diabolusif you are not the author of " Waverley," the deuce is in it. But let me

soberly shew the parallelism under all the heads above stated.

1. You have no objection to play bopeep with the public; for we, who live at a distance, cannot forget, that for a long time you were only known to us, (if it can be called known,) as the Veiled Conductor. Just as a lamp of ground glass diffuses radiance, and yet suffers not any one to see the exact shape of the flame within; so, while the Veiled Conductor flourished, we saw that some one was edifying us, but his name and features we knew not; all that we were permitted to discern was, that he was sensible and jocular; but this did not inform us whether his name was North or South; for you may recollect that acuteness and facetiousness have, in times past, been the property of persons bearing both these appellations. Dr South was (saving your presence) as witty as you; and the late Lord North was as ready at a repartee or a gibe, as even the great Edinburgh North of the present day. Now this hankering for the coy disguise of anonymity in you and in the Novelist, is very symptomatic of the identity of the two authors. For let us know in what degree is the title of The Veiled Conductor a whit more explanatory than that of The Author of" Waverley?"

2. Let the different Tales be allowed to display as much versatility of genius as possible, yet they can hardly be pronounced to evince more than you possess; knowing, as we do, from your own confession, that most of the anonymous Articles in the Magazine are of your own writing. So that in this point, there is no bar to your being the author of whom we are in search; on the contrary, the likelihood is great and astounding.

3. The Novels demonstrate the writer's admirable acquaintance with the Scottish language. Now different references in your Magazine shew that Dr Jamieson's Etymological Dictionary is frequently at your elbow; and your occasional use of a word or two, proves your proficiency in that venerable tongue. Doubtless, you have possessed advantages for learning it, which do not fall to the lot of all; for I am told by a friend who has visited Edinburgh of late, that the use of that least corrupted dialect of the Anglo-Saxon, namely, the gude braid Scots, is not even now wholly superseded by the

more corrupted Teutonic, called English.

4. The author of " Waverley" enters cordially upon his descriptions of good cheer and merry-making. With what a smack of the lips did he report the decanting of the Baron of Bradwardine's claret; and with what kindred jollity does he accompany the carouse of the Black Knight, and the Clerk of Copmanhurst! Oh, Christopher! rheumatism doth not seem to have made thee less esurient or sitient, when the hospitality of Glasgow, or of other gormandizing and boozing places, is within thy reach. How cordial also is the gout, with which thou dost embody, in a durable record, thy prowess in mastication and deglutition! Can he, who with such unction composed and partook of the Glasgow punch, be other than he in whose gifted ear the claret of Tully Veolan gurgled so melodiously as it left the cobwebbed magnum? Can he to whom kidneys and kipper were so grateful, be other than the very same who records with such complacency the rapid dispatch of Dandie Dinmont in the same hearty cause?

5. There is quite sunshiny evidence, that the great Novel-writer is a Tory. But what shall we say of Christopher North? Has he not grappled with the Edinburgh Reviewers-taken the very bull of Whiggism by the horns, so that roar as he will, he can no longer do mischief? Surely there was proof sufficient of high-minded Toryism in that

hazardous but successful enterprize of yours. Well then, what else can we say, but that He who has instilled loyalty by the medium of fictitious narratives, and He who has wrought to the same good end in his own character as a political combatant, are two in semblance, but in reality alter et idem. 6. These unowned enchanting books, which I cannot help attributing to you, must have accumulated for their author quite a heap of gold. Now, is it not a strangely corroborative circumstance, that you confess that you are growing rich? The Magazine is referred to by you as the sole source of your wealth; but I fear you are like the lapwing, which pretends to be most flurried and anxious about that place where her nest is not. Ah, Mr North, is not your hyperbolical statement in No. XLIII. of Mr Blackwood's profits, a feint to withdraw our eyes from the real spot in which you have been reaping such a golden harvest? I apprehend that you are cater-cousin to the amusing hero of Shakespeare's Induction to the Taming of the Shrew, and are, as well as he-CHRISTOPHER SLY!

Well, I have done; and whether the author of " Waverley" be now deterré by these evidences, I leave (if you be not induced to confess) to impartial posterity to determine. Of one thing the present age may be assured, and this is, that I am, and ever shall continue to be, Yours very truly, &c. GILES MIDDLeStitch.

T. C.