ALLITERATION very early made its appearance in English poetry. I have seen an old piece where it was intended to supply the place of rhyme: the terminations of each line were different; and there were in every one, three or four words which begun with the same letter. This I suppose was thought a beauty. Shakspeare in several places burlesques the improper use of Alliteration with great pleasantry. It was much in request in the days of Thompson——his

is scarce less ridiculous than Shakspeare’s

I believe wherever it is perceived, it disgusts. There is something very ridiculous in the pains of an author when he is searching for a set of words beginning with the same letter: this surely argues a “lack of matter.” A man who has things in his head, is never curious about words, unless it be those which express his meaning quickest and clearest. I would have given something to have seen the paper upon which Smollet first sketched the titles of some of his novels. I dare say it cost him as much time to fix upon the name Roderick Random, as to write some of the best parts in that sprightly and entertaining performance.——Robert and Richard were common, Roger and Ralph were vulgar—there was a necessity for a sounding uncommon name, and beginning with an R: at last, by a lucky chance Roderick occurred—and Roderick it is.—Do you think me fanciful? I call upon Peregrine Pickle, and Ferdinand Fathom to prove the contrary.

If we laugh at the hard-sought-for Alliteration of the poet and historian, may we not laugh a little louder at that of the comic dramatist? Can any language be less that of nature or common conversation, than strings of words beginning with an M or N? And yet this has been done by one who paints the “Manners living as they rise.” It is surprizing that so sprightly a genius as Foote could submit to the drudgery of consulting his spelling-book for words proper to be paired—my three ppp’s put me in mind of a letter in the Student, in which p is predominant—it is highly humourous and well worth your perusing.

Will you give me leave to make an abrupt transition from Alliteration to Literation, and pardon me also for coining?

The Germans in pronouncing English, and writing it too, if they have not studied the language, almost constantly change b into p, d into t, g (hard) into k, v into f, and the reverse. This peculiarity of theirs, I find, upon recollection, is not confined to English. In the Burletta of La buona Figliola, the author makes his German character to say trompetti and tampurri—nay they serve their own language the same, as I have observed from their pronunciation of proper names of cities, &c. it seems difficult to account for this——but perhaps not more so than for the trick of the French in giving an aspirate to those English words where there is none, and omitting it where it should be used.——I once saw a French-man much surprized, (not disconcerted) at a general laugh when he was comparing our country women with his—an unlucky misplaced aspirate was all the cause—“The English ladies,” says he, “are so plain, but the French ladies are so ?airy!”