he thought his old acquaintance might make a few pence in his ftrange way. Well, then,' faid I, 'let the poor fellow have what he wants, if it will do him any good; but what does he mean by fix quires? Not quires of whole sheets, but fix times twenty-four copies of this fize,' was the information which I received on this new branch of literature. I then went down ftairs, and told my customer that he might have the quantity he wanted for eighteen pence, which would barely be the expense of the paper and working off. He was content, the order was executed, the parcel delivered by myself into his hand, and honestly paid for by him; away then he went, and I faw no more of him. I have often said, when I have had occafion to tell this adventure of my romantic youth (for adventure it was, and no every-day one, as the iffue proved), that if ever in my life I did an act which was neither good nor bad, or if either, rather good than bad, it was this."

This act, however, brought Montgomery to a gaol. The paper contained "A Patriotic Song by a Clergyman of Belfast," and one of the verses ran thus:

"Europe's fate on the conteft's decision depends,

Most important its iffue will be;

For should France be fubdued, Europe's liberty ends,
If the triumphs the world will be free."

This verse, which is as falfe in fact as it is void of

poetry, although written to celebrate an anniversary of the destruction of the Baftile, and referred to the Duke of Brunswick's invafion of France in 1792, was made out to be a libel on the war which at the time of its fale by Montgomery was raging between England and France; and two months after the ballad-finger had purchased them at the Iris office, Montgomery was charged with having publifhed "feveral falfe, fcandalous, malicious, and feditious libels." For this crime he was tried at the Doncaster Seffions, held on the 22nd of January, 1795. The trial lafted nine hours, and ended in a verdict of guilty, and a sentence of three months' imprisonment in York Castle, and a fine of twenty pounds. A curious light is thrown on this trial and a curious illustration of those times is the publication of the documents connected with the trial, which came into Montgomery's hands in 1839. In the original draft of the brief delivered to the counsel for the prosecution is the following paffage: "The prifoner for a long time acted as his (Mr. Gales's) amanuenfis, and occafionally wrote effays for the newspaper. Since he has been the oftenfible manager and proprietor of the Iris, he has pursued the fame line of conduct, and his printingoffice has been precisely of the fame stamp Without calling in question the names or characters of fome of his principal fupporters, who ought to

;

act differently, fuffice it to say, that this prosecution is carried on chiefly with a view of putting a stop to the meetings of the associated clubs in Sheffield; and it is hoped that if we are fortunate enough to fucceed in convicting the prifoner, it will go a great way towards curbing the infolence they have uniformly manifested, and particularly fince the late acquittals."

The Government were fortunate enough to get a conviction, and added one more to the noble lift of Prifon Poets.

The three months foon paffed away, and the poet was once more free. This freedom was not, however, of long duration. In a few months he was again in "iron bars." He has stated this second trial and imprisonment himself in fo brief a manner, that no fummary of ours could make it shorter. We therefore quote it: "Of my second offence," he writes, “trial, and imprisonment, I should not feel myself justified, at this distance of time, to republish any detailed account. However political prejudice may have disqualified each of us from being a judge in his own cause, it was a personal affair between the prosecutor, a magiftrate, and myself, the writer of a paragraph in the Iris reflecting hardly upon his conduct in quelling a riot at Sheffield on the 4th of Auguft, 1795. For this a bill was found against me at Barnsley Seffions, in October following: I

traversed to Doncaster Seffions in January, 1796. There the trial came on, and, after an extraordinary scene of contradictory evidence on both fides, a verdict was given against me, and I was fentenced to fix months' imprisonment in York Castle, to pay a fine of thirty pounds to the king, and to give fecurity to keep the peace for two years. Neither of the profecution, the verdict, nor the fentence, did I ever complain, confidering all the circumstances; because, according to the law of libel, there was ground for the first, conflicting teftimony that was deemed to warrant the second, and the third could not altogether be called vindictive. There and then, though very difproportionately matched, my prosecutor and I joined iffue on the fame ground in an open court of justice, face to face, and witness against witness. It was a fair stand-up fight' between us, in which I was overcome, the jury being umpires; for I count as nothing the fictions of the indictment, the fpeeches of counsel, and the part which the magiftrates took to influence the proceedings."

Thus again was our poet confined in prison; and here did he folace his heart as fo many have done before him, by cultivating and wooing the Mufe. To him, as to the other incarcerated finging birds, the spirit of poetry came, cheered him with her bright prefence; bleffed him with her fweet miniftrations; confoled him with her whisperings of hope; and

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fpreading her glorious mantle over the gloom of the prison house, made it a fairy scene of bright vifions and foul-foothing creations of another world. There "the writer amufed his imagination with attiring his forrows in verse, that, under the romantic appearance of fiction, he might fometimes forget that his misfortunes were real."

The poetry written by Montgomery in prison confifts of nine pieces. They add fcarcely anything to his fame; and, although like most of his works, the mufings of his gentle, loving, and amiable heart, they are mufical and pleasant to read, they borrow their chief claim to our attention from the place and circumstances under which they were written. They are not, as very little of our author's poetry is, of a high order. They do not excite our sympathies, or move our feelings. Power and pathos both wanting. The verses are fimple and natural; and have a mufic of their own which flows as pleasant and agreeably as a ftreamlet along its fhallow bed. You fee every pebble, every weed, every little minnow at the bottom; the fun's rays reach the bed, and gliften on its ftores, and sparkle on the edges of every wavelet, and you yield to the sweet influences of the scene, and leave it with a pleasant memory of it haunting you for many a day. a day. It is the fame with our author's fhorter pieces. They have little of the "thoughts that breathe, and words