ered. But Mr. Gilchrist and the
Quarterly Reviewer are not poets, nor pretenders to poetry; therefore
they can have no envy nor malice against Mr. Bowles: they have no
acquaintance with Mr. Bowles, and can have no personal pique; they do
not cross his path of life, nor he theirs. There is no political feud
between them. What, then, can be the motive of their discussion of
his deserts as an editor?--veneration for the genius of Pope, love
for his memory, and regard for the classic glory of their country.
Why would Mr. Bowles edite? Had he limited his honest endeavours to
poetry, very little would have been said upon the subject, and
nothing at all by his present antagonists.

Mr. Bowles calls the pamphlet a "mud-cart," and the writer a
"scavenger." Afterward he asks, "Shall he fling dirt and receive
_rose-water_?" This metaphor, by the way, is taken from Marmontel's
Memoirs; who, lamenting to Chamfort the shedding of blood during the
French revolution, was answered, "Do you think that revolutions are
to be made with _rose-water_?"

For my own part, I presume that "rose-water" would be infinitely more
graceful in the hands of Mr. Bowles than the substance which he has
substituted for that delicate liquid. It would also more confound his
adversary, supposing him a "scavenger." I remember, (and do you
remember, reader, that it was in my earliest youth, "Consule
Planco,")--on the morning of the great battle, (the second)--between
Gulley and Gregson,--_Cribb_, who was matched against Horton for the
second fight, on the same memorable day, awaking me (a lodger at the
inn in the next room) by a loud remonstrance to the waiter against
the abomination of his towels, which had been laid in _lavender_.
Cribb was a coal-heaver--and was much more discomfited by this
odoriferous effeminacy of fine linen, than by his adversary Horton,
whom, he "finished in style," though with some reluctance; for I
recollect that he said, "he disliked hurting him, he looked so
pretty,"--Horton being a very fine fresh-coloured young man.

To return to "rose-water"--that is, to gentle means of rebuke. Does
Mr. Bowles know how to revenge himself upon a hackney-coachman, when
he has overcharged his fare? In case he should not, I will tell him.
It is of little use to call him "a rascal, a scoundrel, a thief, an
impostor, a blackguard, a villain, a raggamuffin, a--what you
please;" all that he is used to--it is his mother-tongue, and
probably his mother'