revity is the soul of wit," their productions can be looked upon as
little else than phantasmagorial skeletons, ridiculous from their extreme
extenuation, and in appearance more peculiarly empty, from the
circumstance of their owing their existence to false lights. This fault
does not exist with all the master spirits, and, though "many a flower is
born to blush unseen," we now proceed to rescue from obscurity the
brightest gem of unfamed literature.

Wisdom is said to be found in the mouths of babes and sucklings. So is the
epic poem of Giles Scroggins. Is wisdom Scroggins, or is Scroggins wisdom?
We can prove either position, but we are cramped for space, and therefore
leave the question open. Now for our author and his first line--

"Giles Scroggins courted Molly Brown."

Beautiful condensation! Is or is not _this_ rushing at once in _medias
res_? It is; there's no paltry subterfuge about it--no unnecessary wearing
out of "the waning moon they met by"--"the stars that gazed upon their
joy"--"the whispering gales that breathed in zephyr's softest
sighs"--their "lover's perjuries to the distracted trees they wouldn't
allow to go to sleep." In short, "there's no nonsense"--there's a broad
assertion of a thrilling fact--

"Giles Scroggins courted Molly Brown."

So might a thousand folks; therefore (the reader may say) how does this
establish the individuality of Giles Scroggins, or give an insight to the
character of the chosen hero of the poem? Mark the next line, and your
doubts must vanish. He courted her; but why? Ay, why? for the best of all
possible reasons--condensed in the smallest of all possible space, and yet
establishing his perfect taste, unequalled judgment, and peculiarly-heroic
self-esteem--he courted her because she was

"The fairest maid in all the town."

Magnificent climax! overwhelming reason! Could volumes written, printed,
or stereotyped, say more? Certainly not; the condensation of "Aurora's
blushes," "the Graces' attributes," "Venus's perfections," and "Love's
sweet votaries," all, all is more than spoken in the emphatic words--

"The fairest maid in all the town."

Nothing can go beyond this; it proves her beauty and her disinterestedness.
The _fairest_ maid might have chosen, nay, commanded, even a city
dignitary. Does the so? No; Giles Scroggins, famous only in name, loves
her, and--beautiful poetic contrivance!--we are left to imagine he does
"not love unloved." Why should sh