Attempt > Volume 1 and Select writings

THE ATTEMPT
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If it were not an unsuitable position for any lady, I should say, Down on your knees,
Mrs Grundy, and humbly apologize for your past conduct; and for the future, instead
of truckling to snobs, clap till your hands are tired, cheer till your throat is hoarse the
props of Britain, the men who do their duty—of course, I include women too.
A well-known writer thought it might not be uninteresting to his readers to hear
that one of his essays was written on his horse’s nose. Following his example, I may
tell you that this one was composed during the unintellectual employment of darning
stockings. While engaged in the foot work, my head has not been idle. And if,
whilst filling up the holes, I have also amused a few of your vacant moments, my brain
will not have been worried, nor my stockings darned in vain.
Cara.
gjUrliu.
In concluding my paper on Thomas the Rhymer, in the May number of “ The
Attempt,” I suggested that some more able pen should take up the life of Merlin.
No one seeming inclined to take the hint, and deeming the subject worth the trouble,
I have searched many a volume, and now give you as best I can the results. The
accounts are so very confused and mythical that I have had some difficulty in picking
out all that is recorded of one of three of this renowned name, and he the chief, if I
mistake not. In my opinion, there has been but one, but authorities differ on this
point.
Merlin the Wild, or Ambrosius, son of a demon, and a daughter of a king of
Briton, is said to have been born at Caermarthen, in Wales; but others say, and with
more apparent truth, in the Welsh kingdom of Reged, or Strathclwyd, in the south¬
west of Scotland. He flourished about the end of the fifth century, and delivered
his oracles during the reigns of Yortigern, Uther the Pendragon, and the great Arthur
of round table fame. The district of south-west Scotland, where he was born, still
retains some legends of his magic art and wonderful predictions. Indeed, near the
village Drumelzier, on the Tweed, a spot under a thorn tree, where the Pawsayle now
joins the Tweed, is pointed out as the grave of Merlin, concerning which it was
written— .
“ When Tweed and Pawsayle meet at Merlin’s grave,
Scotland and England shall one monarch have.”
The natural fulfilment of the prophecy it is said took place on the very day that
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