I have a few and curious collection of Latin and Greek quotations.

And what is the result I draw from this?  This simple one—­that, of all men living, I am the most qualified to be a CRITIC, and hereby offer myself to your notice in that capacity.

Recollect, I am always at Home—­Fleet Prison, Letter L, fourth staircase, paupers’-ward—­for a guinea, and a bottle of Hodges’ Cordial, I will do anything.  I will, for that sum, cheerfully abuse my own father or mother.  I can smash Shakspeare; I can prove Milton to be a driveller, or the contrary:  but, for preference, take, as I have said, the abusive line.

Send me over then, Mr. P., any person’s works whose sacrifice you may require.  I will cut him up, sir; I will flay him—­flagellate him—­finish him!  You had better not send me (unless you have a private grudge against the authors, when I am of course at your service)—­you had better not send me any works of real merit; for I am infallibly prepared to show that there is not any merit in them.  I have not been one of the great unread for forty-three years, without turning my misfortunes to some account.  Sir, I know how to make use of my adversity.  I have been accused, and rightfully too, of swindling, forgery, and slander.  I have been many times kicked down stairs.  I am totally deficient in personal courage; but, though I can’t fight, I can rail, ay, and well.  Send me somebody’s works, and you’ll see how I will treat them.

Will you have personal scandal?  I am your man.  I will swear away the character, not only of an author, but of his whole family—­the female members of it especially.  Do you suppose I care for being beaten?  Bah!  I no more care for a flogging than a boy does at Eton:  and only let the flogger beware—­I will be a match for him, I warrant you.  The man who beats me is a coward; for he knows I won’t resist.  Let the dastard strike me then, or leave me, as he likes; but, for a choice, I prefer abusing women, who have no brothers or guardians; for, regarding a thrashing with indifference, I am not such a ninny as to prefer it.  And here you have an accurate account of my habits, history, and disposition.

Farewell, sir; if I can be useful to you, command me.  If you insert this letter, you will, of course, pay for it, upon my order to that effect.  I say this, lest an unprincipled wife and children should apply to you for money.  They are in a state of starvation, and will scruple at no dastardly stratagem to procure money.  I spent every shilling of Mrs. Jenkinson’s property forty-five years ago.

I am, sir, your humble servant,

DIOGENES JENKINSON,

Son of the late Ephraim Jenkinson, well known to Dr. O. Goldsmith; the Rev. ——­ Primrose, D.D., Vicar of Wakefield; Doctor Johnson, of Dictionary celebrity; and other literary gentlemen of the last century.

[We gratefully accept the offer of Mr. Diogenes Jenkinson, whose qualifications render him admirably adapted to fill a situation which Mr. John Ketch has most unhandsomely resigned, doubtlessly stimulated thereto by the probable accession to power of his old friends the Tories.  We like a man who dares to own himself—­a Jenkinson.—­ED.]

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