encircles it. The historian shall go about in black plush breeches; and
the great inspired writers of the age "have a livery more guarded than
their fellows." Authors shall soon be, indeed, even more easily known by
their dress. How often, too, shall we see Mr. Murray or Mr. Colburn
descending "with the nine" to the hireling scribe, who is correcting the
press and locking up the tea-spoons, against his coming; or they may
have occasionally to wait below, while their authors are _waiting_
above. Longman, Rees, Orme, Brown and Green (almost a batch of he-muses
in themselves), will get a new cookery-book, _well done_, from a
genuine cook,[5] who divides his time between the spit and the pen; and
the firm need not, therefore, set Mrs. Rundell's temper upon the
_simmer_, as they are said to have done in days past. Reviewers
too!---will they ever dine together anon?--surely not. Authors are known
to be in the malicious habit of speaking ill of their friends and judges
behind their backs; and at dinner-time they will soon have every
opportunity of so doing. How unpleasant to call for beer from the poet
you have just set in a foam; or to ask for the carving-knife from the
man you have so lately _cut up_! _We_ reviewers shall then never
be able to shoot our severity, without the usual coalman's memento of
"take care below!" One advantage, however, from the new system must be
conceded, and that is, that when an author waits in a great man's hall,
or stands at his door, he will be pretty sure of being paid for it; which,
in the case of your dangling garreteers, has never hitherto happened.
Crabbe's story of "The Patron" will become obsolete. High Life will,
indeed, be below stairs!

There is a lively spirit of banter in these observations, which is
extremely amusing. They are from the _Athenaeum_ of last week,
which, by the way, has more of the intellectual gladiatorship in its
columns than any of its critical contemporaries.