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^ 



>r 









w 



THE 



CYCLOPAEDIA 



OK 



WIT AND HUMOE; 



CONTAIN! NO 



CHOICE AND CIIARACTERLSTIC SELECTIONS 



FROM Tin: 



WRITINGS OF THE MOST EMNENT HUMORISTS 



or 



AMERICA, IRELAND, SCOTLAND, 

AND ENGLAND. 

|lIo8txatcb btt^ StomtQ-fonr |)orinits on ^Itel, nnb mnn^ Xnnbxrb SHoob CngiBbingik 

EDITED BY 



•. 



WILLIAM E. BURTON. 



VOLUME IL 



^ I hare ohsorvcd. that in Comedy, the best actor playtt the part of the droll, while 
■ome scrub Titgud is made the hero, or fine g^utlenian. So, in this Fnrcf; of Life, wIao 
men paas their time in mirth, whllat fools only an* serioub.— Bounobioek. 



NEW YORK: 
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, 

846 & 848 BROADWAY. 
LONDON: 16 LITTLE BRITAIN. 

1859. 



EnmsD aooording to Act of CongraM in the year 1858 by 
D. APPLETON A COMPANY, 
In tbe Clerk*t OiBoe of the District Court of the United SUtes for the Sonthero Distnct of New Toit. 



LIST OF PORTRAITS.-VOL. II. 



-«♦•- 



Pi 

JAMES HOGG, ......... fact titijl 

JOHN WILSON, ......... 668 

THOMAS HOOD, M7 

CHARLES LAMB, 781 

CHARLES DICKENS, 750 

GEORGE CRUEKSHANK 800 

THOMAS INGOLDSBY, 081 

ALBERT SMITH, . 878 

SIDNEY SMITH, 1048 

DOUGLASS JERROLD, 1078 



■ I- ■ 



> • 



CYCLOPEDIA 



OF 



MODERIS^ WIT AIS^D HUMOR. 



••• 



SCOTCH. 



/ 



CYCLOPAEDIA 



OF 



WIT AND HUMOR. 



SCOTCH. 



SEEKING THE HOUDY. 

BY JAMES HOGa (THE ETTRICK SHEPHERD). 



There was a shepherd on the lands of Me^pat- 
dale, who once set out riding with might and main, 
under cloud of night, for that most important and 
necoHsary personage in a remote and mountainous 
country,' called by a different name in every coun- 
try of the world, excepting perhaps Egypt and 
England ; but by the highlandcrs most expressively 
termed hian-glhuine or te the toetor, 

Tlie nmre that Uobm rode was a black one, with 
a white face like a cow. She had a great big belly, 
a switch tail, and a back, Robin said, as sharp as a 
knife ; but perhaps this part of the description was 
rather exaggerated. However, she was lazinera it- 
self personified, and the worst thing of all, her foal 
was closed in at home ; for Robin had wiled the 
mare and foal into the hire with a piece of bread, 
which he did not give her after all, but put in liis 
pocket in case of farther necessity : he then whip- 
ped a hair halter on the mare*8 head, and the straw 
sunk8 on her back, those being the only equipment 
within hiH reach ; and it having cost Robin a great 
deal of trouble to get the foal into the hire, he now 
eyed him with an exulting, and at the same time a 
malicious, look. **You mischievous rascal," said 
he, *' I tliink 1 have you now ; stand you there an* 
clmck floei4, till I come back to teach you better 
manners." 

Robin then hurried out the mare to the side of 
the kail-yard dike, and calling out to Jean, his wife, 
not to be in ower grit a hurry, and to exercise all 
the patience she was mistrcBs o\\ he flew on the 
yaud's back, and off he went at full gallop. 

The liuir halter that Robin rode with had a 
wooden suibbelt ui)on the end of it, as all hair hal- 
ters httd erewhile, when there were no other bridles 
in Mi'g^at, saving branks and hair halters annexed ; 
consocpientiy with the further end of this halter one 
could iiit an exceeding hard stroke. Indeed, I 
n«»ver saw any thing in my life that hurt so sore as 
a hair lialter nud wooden snibbelt at the end of it ; 
and 1 nijiv here mention, as an instance of its effi- 
oacv, that there was om-e a boy at Ilartwood mines, 
near S(»lkirk, who killed with a snibbelt two High- 
land soldiers, who came to press his horses in the 
forfi/'riie. 

Well, to this halter and snibbelt Robin had trust- 

40 



ed for a rod, there being no wood in Mcggat-dale, 
not so much as a tree : and a more unlucky and 
dangerous goad ho could scarcely have possessed, 
and that the black mare, with a white face like a 
cow, felt to her experience. Robin galloped, by the 
light of the full moon, down by the But-haugh and 
Glengaber-foot about as fast as'a good horse walks ; 
still he was gallopmg, and could make no more of 
it, although he was every now and then lending the 
yaud a yerk on the flank with the snibbelt. But 
when he came to Henderland, to which place the 
mare was accustomed to go every wedc to meet 
the eggler, then Robin and the mare spnt in their 
opinions. Robin thought it the most natural and 
reasonable thing in the world that the mare should 
push on to the Sandbed, about eight miles further, 
to bring home the wise woman to his beloved wife*R 
assistance. The marc thought exactly the reverse, 
being inwardly convinced that the most natural and 
reasonable path she could take was the one straight 
home again to her foal ; and without any further cere- 
mony, save giving a few switches with her long ill- 
shapen tail, she set herself with all her might to 
dispute the point with Robin. 

Then there was such a battle commenced, as 
never was fought at the footof Uenderland-bank at 
midnight, either before or since. 0, my beloved 
and respected editor and readers! I wish I could 
make you understand the humor of this battle as 
well as I do. The branks were two sticks hung by 
a head-steel, which, when one drew the halter hard, 
nipped the beast's nose most terribly; but then 
they were all made in one way, and could only 
turn the beast to the near side. Now the block 
mare did not, or could not, resist this agency of the 
branks ; she turned round as often as Robin liked, 
but not one step farther woidd she proceed on the 
road to Sandbed. So roundabout and roundabout 
the two went ; and the mare, by a very clever ex- 
pedient, contrived at every circle to work twice her 
own length nearer home. Saint Sampson ! how 
Robin did lay on with the halter and snibbelt, when- 
ever he got her head round towards the way he 
wanted her to go ! Xo — round she came again I 
He cursed her, he flattered her, he reminded her of 
the precarious state of her mistress, who had so 



ViV 



SEEKING THE lIOVnY. 



often filled her manf^r ; but all would not do ; she I I could itoon run on foot to the Sandhcdf but then 
thuu;^ht only of the precarious Btate uf her foal, | I cannot carry the widwife home on luy back ; and 
clo^^.'d in an old void smoaring-houch*. 
Kobin, at hii^t, fell upon a new Htratagoi 



wa» this, that aa the mare wheeled round, whenever 
her head reached the right point, he hit her a yerk 
with the wooden (<nibb«.>lt on the near cheek, to 
stop that mill-8tone motion of hers. This occasion 



I could I once get you there, you would not l»c long 
?m, which in brin;fing us both home again. )Mague on you 



for a beastf if I winna knock your bminn out/ 

Ro))in now attacked the mare'8 white face with 
the Hnibbelt, yerk for yerk, ho potently, tliat the 
mare soon grew madly cruzed, ami cume plun^ni; 



ed some furious plungen, but no advancement the i and tiuundering from the hill at a great rate. Kobin 
right way, till at length he hit her such a pernicious ; thus found out a K'cret not liefore known in thi« 
blow somewhere near about the ear, that he bnmght 
her fiuiack to the earth in a moment ; and so much 
was he irritated, that he laid on her when down. 



country, on « liich he actcil till the ilay of his death, 
nanu'ly, *' that the best way to make a hor^e spriug 
forward is to strike it on the face.'* 
and nodillng like one falling asleep. After two or | Once more «»n the path, Robin again mounted, 
three prolonged groans, she rose again, and, thus s|)aring iivither the mare mir the haltrr; while the 
candidly admoidshed, made no further w.-jistauce mare, at every five or six quires, enteriained him 
for the present, but moved on apace to the time of wiih a bray w) loud, with its aceoin]>anAing nickvr, 
the halter and the snibbelt. On reaching a ravine that every one made tlu- hilU ring again, 
called the Capper Clench, the mare, coming again There U si-aivrly any thing a man likes worse 
in some degree to her scnsici?, ix'rceived that Aia than this cf)n.«tant neighing of ihi- ."ti-iMJ lu* rides 
was not where she ought to have bren, at least > ufMU), es|ici-ially liy night. It make-i him start ms 
where it was her interest, and the intere>t of her from a revt-rie, and puts hi^ wlmK* frame in com- 
foal, that .^he should have been; and raising her . motion. Kobin did not like it nmre than other 
white face, .^hc uttered a tremendous lU'igh. Tiie | men. It caurcd him inadv<>rtent]y to utter some 
hills to the left arc there steep and rocky, and the ; iiupreentions on tlu' mare, that he e<infi'SM'd he 
night being calm and fros^ty, first one lino echo . .^^houlil not have uttereil: but it aI.»ocauMd him to 
neighed out of the hill, then another, and then an- sny some short prayers for pn>scrvaiii>n : and to 
other. "There are plenty of fojils here," thought whii-li of thr.««' agencies he owed the following eiii* 
the old mare; and neighing again even louder than ' gular advt-nture, he never could divine. 
before, she was again answered in the same way ; Kobin had got only about half a mile farther on his 
and seeing an old crabbed thorn-tree among the : road, when his mare ceased her bi-a\iiig. and all at 
rocks, in the direction whence the echo proei-eded, \ onee stood stone-ciill, coeking her laige t'ars, and 
it struck her obtuse head that it was her great lub- I hioking exemlingly frighimed. *M»lio. madam! 
)>cr of a foal standing on very iH.>rilous ground ; and wliatV tin- matter n(»w y ^aid Kobin ; " is this an- 
off site set ut a right angle from the road, or nithrr other stratagem to nuir my journey, for all the 
a left one, with her utmo-st s|H:ed, braying, as the I haste that you .«iee me in y (u't on. ni\ line yaud, 
went, whi|^ every scream was returned by her get on I Tliere is nothing uncanny there." 
shaggy colt with interest. It Wiuj in vain that Robin coaxed thus, as well to keep up his own 
Robin pulled by the hair halter, and (>mote her on spirits, as to eneouiage his mare: for the truth is, 
the cheek with the wooden snibbelt : away tfha ran . that his hair liigan to siard on end with ufl'iight. 
through long heath and largo stones, with a tre- : Tlie niaie would m-iiber ri«li', lead, nt»r diive, one 
mendous and uncultivated rapiility, neighing as she i step iuither; but tlure slie stood, Maring, snulKng 
flew. '* Wo! ycjaud! Ibip-wo! chywooo!'* shout- the wind, nn<I snorting so long, that it was fright- 
ed Roliin, ** Hap-wo ! Ilai)-wo! Devil confound the some to hear, as well as Ut see her. This was the 
beast, for Vm gone !'* worst dilemma of all. What was our forlorn >hepherd 

Nothing would stay her velocity till she stalded to do now ? He averred that the nunc ifntld nttt 
her.-elf against a rock over which she eould not go on either by loree (»r art ; but I am greatly de- 
wni, and then Kobin lost no time in throwing him- ceived, if by tlii>« time he durst ft)r his life have 
self from her back. Many ami bitter were the gone on, e\ en though th«' mare eould havi- been in- 



epithets he tliere bestowed on his old mnre, ami 



duccfl to prtieeed. lie took the next natural exfte- 



grievous was the lamentation he made for his wife, dient, whieli ^^a'^ that of shouting out a^ loud as lio 
as endeavoring to lead back the mare from the ! could billow, '• llilloa ! who's there V lie ye d»'vils, 
rocky hill into the miserable track of a roa«l. No ; be \e wiiehe-, or be ye Cliristian creature-, rise an' 
the plague o' orft foot would the mare mov«? in that shaw your>e|«i. I .«ay hilloa ! who's there y' 
direction! She held o«it her long nose, with In'r ] Kobin was at thi< time standing hanging by the 
white nnL<iIin face, straight up to heaven, as if con- nian-'s hair halier villi both his hands, for ^lle wna 
templating the moon. She weened that her fbal ■ capering and Hinging up her white fiiee with such 
was up among the crags, and put on a r<-.»olutii»n |.\iolen<'e. that ^bi' >onie(inie>i nuulf hiui bob (•iV the 
not to leave him a second time for juiy nmn'> plea- ground; when, b.-h«»ldl at his last e:ill,a beinirlike 
sure. After all, Kobin conh's^'d that he had ^onl<' a woimin rose Iromnumnir .-onje ileep heaiherbusb- 
excu«e for her, for the shadow of th.e old thorn i-* aluuit twenty yard-" belnre hiui. She wa-« like 
was so like a «'olt, that he couM M'areelv rea.oon an I'Merh renia!i\ i|re--«'<l in a eo;n>e ((mhiIix «'arl». 
liinis«'lf out of the belief that it was one. tiill and ereer, and ilu-re she stood f<H- :« h|»a«e, with 

Kobin was now hardly si-t ind<'eil, for the nuire ■ her p.ile fare, on whii-h the moon ?hoi.e li;ll, tnrneil 
wouM not leftil a step; and when In* cauie baek to straight toward- Iiol'in. He then li-an! her umt- 
her side to leather her with the >nibl»elt, she oidy terinir soiUfthini^ to hei'^elf ; and. wirh a hall-.-titled 
galloped round him and round him and neiLdietj. laugh, she stooped down, and lifted soum thing from 
"<> plague on you for a bea.-^t. that ever you were among the lusJlh, whieh Kobin thought r«-.-iinbled 
foaled!" exclaiuH'd Kobin; "I shall lose n drarlv a babv. — "Theii'l ihe irip^ev \anil ha< luen mur- 
beloved wife, ami pi-rhaps a «ouple of babies at dering that poor bairn !" ih<»nirht Ibibin to hini>elf: 
least, and all owing to your stujndily and obstinacy ! " it was nae wiunler niy auld vaud wa> f' ightriied ! 



: uouDv. 



«he kcnn wbat'n whnt, for as coDtror.vsome as she 
is. And iniirdcre«a though the bizsT be, it in out o' 
my ]iower to pursue her wi' IhJs positire auld hack, 
for no another foot nearer her vill she move." 

Robin never thought but that the mjstcrioua 
l>eiDg waa to By from him, or at least go off the road 
to one Hide; but inptacoof that she rolled her baby, 
or liimdle, or whali-Tcr it 70.1, deliberately up iu a 
lilankel, fastened it up between her shoulders, nnil 
I'Hme straiglit to the pWe nhcre Kobin »lood 
lianftiiig by his mare's head. The mure was per- 
feellr mad. She reared, siiorled, and whisked her 
long ill-shnped tall; but Robin held her, for be was 
11 strong j'oung man, and the hair halter must hare 
been propi>rUoiial)ly po, else it never could have 
HtiMid the exen'l'% n'f that evrnind nieht. 

Though I liave heard Jtobin lell tlio story often- 
er llian onee when I wa>< a boy, there was alwayn 
u confuiiion lierc which 1 never undersiood. Tliis 

ponn){ Itiut Kobin wan biniself in such perplexity 
and cntit^islon, that lie neither knew well what 
|Mk<sei1, nor reiiieuiliered it uAerwnrd''. Aa far an I 
n>rollect, the fnUowing was ilie dialogue that pass- 
ed between Ihn two. 

■■ Wha's this'" 

" What need ve upeed, ROOilmaD ? tend fo'k, 
pm it war dayUebl." 



mites yet. Why, man, afore ye get to the Sunil- 
bed an' hame again, your doughler will be ready 
for spaiuing," 

" DuugUtcr I what's a' this about a doughtcr ? 
Has my dear Jean really a d]iiigliter?" 

" You may be sure sie has, else I could not have 
been here." 

"And has she only sue? for, od! yo maun ki-n, 
wifie, that I cipeclit Iwa at the fewest. But I diiiuii 
undiTstand you. I wish ye may be canny cnuii;:li, 
for my white-faced yaud seems to jalousc oilior- 

" Ye dinna ken me, Robin, but ye will ken me. 
I am Ellen Grieve. I was well brought up, and 
married to a respectable farmer's son ; but he tum- 
villaiii, and, among other qoalificationa, 
irious thief; so that I have been reduced 
to this that yon see, to travel the country with a 
(lack, and tend women a helptng-hand in their hour 
o' neo(L An', Kobin, when you and 1 meet iiere 
again, tou may be preparing for another world." 

" I dmna comprehend ye at a', wifie. Ko : a' that 
I ean do, I canna comprehend ye. But I under- 
stand thus far. It seems yo are a houdy, or a 
meedwife, aa tlic grit fo'ks will ca' you. Xow that's 
the wry thing I want at present, for your belpiii); 
hand may bo ncedfu' yonder. Come on ahint me, 
and we'll soon be hame." 




■. I'm ju-it liilinj; my whole n 



I mus g e he eipcd on home nBobnsoivii 

"Weel, I forces my yaud into the Clcuch-bme. 
contrary as nlie was. wi' her whito face, fur she liud 
learned by this lime lo lake a wee care o' the lirii- 
mcr ^nibbelt. I was on her back in a jFffey ; an' w 
say trutli, the ki-rlin wi' t]u< jiale round fae<>. :irid 
the bit lang hmirllc on liorback, wosna slack: fw 
slicwasoti ahint mc, bundle and' a', ere ever I kcnd 
I waA on mysel. Hut, (iudc fotgio us! siehan a 
vovage OS we gat! I declare my yaud gac a !'no^■ 
■ ' the hills ring, an' tliu verra lire Hew 



Out 



cuch-hi 



within hei 



SEEKIKO TilE BOCDT. 



><rer bmh, ower brier, ower Htock, an' ower aMne 
ilje flew, I ducUrc, Ml' bq be it, faster (ban ever 
la eagle flev through (lie finnameiit of the heftTcni, 




"I kend then that I had cither & witch or a mer- 
maid on nhEnt mc ; but hoir was I now to pnt i|iiic 
n- licr. The hnir halter had loht &' power, an' 1 had 
no other fhitl tell, than to fix by instinct on the 
mnnc wi' liaith handi, an' err out to the tiiarc to 
Ktop. ' Wn, ye auld viper o' the pit I wo, yt tieaft 
o' Rnnhnn '.' I ctics in outer di'spwalion ; llut ay tlie 
loudvr I cried, the raster did liie plydo flee. 8hc 
raored, an' she grained, an' Hhe rcirdit bailh aliint 
an' afore ; an'onahedsriipd, n-tmnllcagof a' danger. 

"I soon loat aight o' the ftround— olP gaed my 
bonnet, an' away i' the wind—off gneil my plaid, 
an' awnyi' the wind ; Ml' there was I rrittin;; loolcii- 
ing forret, eleoTing the wind like an nrrow out of n 
bow, an' luy een rinnlng, pouriug lilte ftrcania of 
water ttom tlie south. M len^rth we came lo the 
ffirL-bufli Linn I and alang^t the very verge of tlint 
nwsome prefiirfee, thero was my dctnentit Wtft, 
aeouring like n licry dragon. ' Lord preserve me 1' 
cried I, hnid out; an' 1 hadna weel said the word, 
tUt my innre f^o a tremendouH phinge ower aoine- 
thlnp, I niivei' kend what it -ku*, and then ilown 
she came on her nora. No rider eoulrl xtnnd thin 
eonca.<>>^on, an' ! dei'larc, an' ao be il, tlie mecd- 
wiib lost her hand, and ower the prceiinee she Hen- 
head foremOHl. 1 jiiHt gat nc gliak o' her aa slie was 
gaun ower the top o' the bivk-biiBh like ashnt »tem, 
an' 1 heard her gue a wnw like a cut ; an' that wa.-t 
the last Eight 1 o.iw o' her. 

" 1 wa« tlicn lumping by the mane an' the rjglit 
hough; an' during the moment that nir mare took 
10 gather herspl' up, I reeovered my wiii, but only 
on (ho top o' tho ihoutder, for I conldnn win lo the 
right phkce. The nuire tiew on as ninillr na over ; 
and frae the ahouhler I came on the iieek, an' for- 
ret, an' forret, pieceiiicai, till, just as I came to my 
oin door, 1 bad gotten a grip o' baith (he luga, Tlie 
foal gae a ecreed of b nichcr; ou wliieh tho gydu 



Ihrew np her white face wi' aie a vengeance, (hat 
she ^art mc play at [ucch-an'-tosfl up'in the nir. 
The ioal nlehered, an' the uiare nichered, an' out 
came the kimmcni; an' I (leclare, an' w be it, there 
waa t lying in llie gutter Bcnseleaa, n-anliojr the 
plaid, an' wanting the boiinel, an' nae meedwirc at 
a'; au' that's the truth, tir, I declare, ait' po be il, 

"Then they carried me in, an' they waslied mc. 
an' they bathed me, an* at hist 1 came to myfel' ; 
an', to be sure, I hud gotten a bonny doughtcV, an' 
a' thingg WOT gaun ou oji Keel <u (WJ br tx/iftlit. 
'What hao ye made o' your phiid, Robin r'liays 
ane. Whare's your bonnet, Bobiu 1' nye anither 
' But, gudeneas guide us 1 what'n come o' the houdy, 
Robin f Wliare'a the mcedwife, Robin?' cried they 
a' St aincc. I trow this (jueatioii gart me glower 
as I bad wen n glialsl. -Uch! hnh !' cried the 
wives, an' held up their hand«; ' DOnielhing has 
happened! fomeihing has happened! We sec by 
his looks ! — liobin ! wliat has Imppcned ? Wbttre's 
tho mcedwife ?' 

'"Ilaud your tongue. Janet Reive; nn' hand ye 
your tongue too, Ep|iic Diekfon,' rays 1. ' an' iliniuk 
apeer tliat queMion at me again ; fur the houdy ia 
where the Lord will, an' where my while-faced valid 
was pleaded to jiit her, and tbat'H in tlie liowe o' (he 
Birk-bush Linn. Uin she be a human creature, 
fbe's a' dnshed lo pieces: but an' iiliebe nae u hu- 
man creature. e]ie nmy gangwhere she like forme; 
an' that'a true, 1 declare, an' to l)c it,'" 

Kow it mufl strike cverv reader, as i( did me at 
first and for nuiny years ajterwanla, that ihiii mi'ti- 
teriuna nocturnal wunderer gave a moi'l eoiifuned 
and unintctligiblo account of hcrwlf. Slie was 
Kabin'a daughter; lirr name was Ellen Grieve; she 
WIS married lo eucli and such ■ man ; and had now 
become a jwddler, and acted oi'easionally nf a mid- 
wife : and finally, when tli.o two met lliere again, it 
would be time for Rubin to lie preparing for an- 
other state of exiatence. Sow, in the lin-t place, 
Robin never had a daughter tiL tliat very hour and 
instant when (he woman rose out of the heather- 
bush and aceoiited him. All (he rent appeun>d lo 
liim hkc a confu!«c1 dream, of whirh he liad no 
compn'heniuon, aavc that lie could neter again be 
prevailed on to pass lliat wny alone by night ; for 
lie had an impreasion thiil at some time or other he 
should meet with lier again. 

But by for the most curious part of tliis story is 
yet lo cotiie, and it shall lip related in few wordx. 
Kobiii went with aniDC others, as (win an it was day, 
to the Rirk-biish Linn, but there was neither body 
nor blood lo lie seen, nor any ap|H'anince of ■ prr- 
«on having been hilled or hiirt. Boliin's diiiighler 



Encii Urkve: aud from Ihu time thai lluliin lirst 
saw Ilia daughter, tlu'm never wax a day <in which 
some of her Innkit did not bring (he niystciinui' mid- 
wife tn his niinil. Thus far the i^torv had priK-ci-d- 
cd, when 1 heard it ndnted; fur 1 lived twelve 
months in the fnmily, and tlie girl was then oidy 
about seven years of nge. Itiit, slmnge tn relate, 
tho midwife's short history of lierfelf lui* ninied out 
the exact history of this onec lovely girl's life ; and 
Rolun, a fi-w davs liefiiri' liiii deulh', met her nl llie 
Kirk Lluuch, with a ImmlL- ou her baik, and Te.-i.g- 
iilTcd his old IMetid In every lin<-nmetit and artivL- 
of ntllre, lie related this to his wit-e a- a Pecr.'l, 

t but added. Ihal "he did not know whether ii »o. 

I bia real duughler whom he niel or nut." 



BOOTOH COLLOPS. 



617 



Many are the traditiona remaining in the coun- 
try, relative to the seeking of midwivos, or houdies, 
as they are universally denominated all over the 
south of Scotland ; and strange adventures are re- 
lated as having happened in the^e precipitate excur- 
sions, which were proverbially certain to happen 
by night. Indeed it would appear, that there hard- 
ly ever was a midwife brouglit, but some incident 
occurred indicative of the fate or fortunes of the 
little forthcoming stranger ; but, amongst them all, 
I have selected this as the most remarluible. 



I am exceedingly grieved at the duscontinuance 
of midwifery, that primitive and original calling, in 
this primitive and original country ; for never were 
there such merry groups in Scotland as the mid- 
wives and their kimmers in former days, and never 
was there such store of capital stories and gossip 
circulated as on these occasions. But those days 
are over ! and alack, and wo is me ! no future old 
8hei>herd shall tell another tale of skekimo the 

HOCDY ? 



•♦• 



LOVE IS LIKE A DIZZINESS. 



BY JAMES HUGO. 



I LATCLY lived in quiet case. 

An* ne'er wish'd to marry, 1 
But when I saw my Peggy's face, 

I felt a sad quandary, O ! 
Though wild as ony Athol deer, 

f?he has trcpamiM me faurly, ! 
Her cherry cheeks an' eon sac clear 
Torment me late an' early, ! 
O, love, love, love ! 

Love is like a dizzinei^H ; 
It winna let a poor body 
Gang about his biziness ! 

To tell my feats this single week 

Wad mak a daft-like diary, 1 
I drave my cart outow'r a dike. 

My horses in a miry, ! 
I wear my stockings white an' bbie. 

My love's sac fierce an' fiury, ! 
I drill the laud that I should i)lough, 

An' plough the drills entirely, 1 
0, love, love, love I etc. 

Ae morning, by the dawn o' day, 
I rase to theek the stable, ! 

1 kuest my coat, and ])lied away 
As fast as I was able, ! 



I wrought that morning out an' out, 

As I'd been redding tire, 1 
When I had done an look'd about, 

(tudefaith, it was the byre, 1 
0, love, love, love I etc. 

Her wily glance I'll ne'er forget. 

The dear, the lovely blinkiii o't 
Has pierced me through an' through the heart. 

An' plagues me wi' the prinkling o't. 
I tried to sing, I tried to pray, 

I tried to drown't wi' diiukin' o't, 
I tried wi' sport to drive't away. 

But n'er can sleep for thiukin' o't. 
0, love, love, love ! etc. 

Nae man can tell what pains I prove. 

Or how severe my pliskie, ! 
I swear I'm sairer drunk wi' love 

Tlian ever I was wi' whiskey, ! 
For love has raked me fore an' aft, 

I scarce can lift a leggie, 1 
I first grew dizzy, then gaed daft. 
An' soon I'll dee for Peggy, ! 
0, love, love, love I 

Love is like a dizziness 
It winna let a poor body 
Gang about his biziness I 



-#♦•- 



More than a Providential Escape. — A serving j 
woman, who was sent to bring water for some do- j 
mestic purposes, returned completely drenched, I 
after what was considered rather an unreasonable 
length of time. Her mistress demanded what had 
kept her so long. *' Kept me so long ! " said the 
dripping absentee, with a look of suqirise, ** deed, 
ye may be glad to see me again ; the burn was nin- 
nin' frae bank to brae. I missed a fit and fell in, 
and if it hadna been for Providence and another 
troman^ I'd ha'e been drowned." 



A Witty Reply. — Sir Walter Scott does not seem 
to have been the fool at school which some have 
Htated. Once, a boy in the same class was asked 
by the "dominie" what part of speech with was. 
** A noun, sir," said the boy. " You young block- 
head," cried the pedagogue, '* what example can 
you give of such a thing?" *'I can tell you, sir," 
interrupted Scott; "you know there's a verse in 
the Bible which savs, *they bound Samson with 
trithn: " 



A Highland Cabinetmaker. — A young High- 
lander was apprenticed to a cabmetmaker in Glas- 
gow, and, as a first job, had a chest of veneered 
drawers to clean and polish. After a sufficient 
time had elapsed for doing the work assigned him, 
the foreman inquired whether he jpras ready with 
the dressers yetV " Oich no ; it's a tough job ; IVe 
almost taken the skin off my ain two hand before 
I'll get it oflf the drawers." " What I" repUed the 
startled director of plane and chisel, " you are not 
taking the veneering off, you blockhead f " What 
I'll do then V I could not surely put a polish on 
before I'll teuk the bark aff!" 



A Desideratum. — A traveller sitting down to a 
Scotch breakfast, gratified at the varied display of 
tempting viands, said to the lassie in attendance. 
" there is nothuig wanting here to prevent mo from 
making a most sumptuous breakfast, but an appe- 
the." "An appetite," said the poor creature, 
anxiuus to please, '' I dinna ken we ha' sic a thing 
in a' the house, but I'll rin and ask my mistress." 



THE WONDEBFIT WEAW. 



THE WONDERFD" WEAN 



Or« wmm'b Ihe most wonderfn' wwn e'er 1 ww, 
It nautd Uk' me a hng Hummer <U; to tcU n' 
HU pniTikfi, frae the luarniD' (ill ntgbt sliutj hii e'e, 
Whca he Bleeps like a ]>oeric, 'iKcen father an' me. 
For in liis quiet lums, Ricuan qiiei>lions he'll npcir: 
How the mouu can stick up ia the skj that's bsb 

Wbnt gara the win' blawT an' vbnr fnte cornea the 

He's a perfect divert — he's a wonderfn' wean. 

Or wha was (he fltat bodie'a father? an' wha 
Made the very lirst snaw-Bliow'r Ibat ever did fa'? 
An' wha made tbe first bird that sang on a tree ' 

But after I've lauld as wccl as I kea, 
Again he begins wi' bis wha ? an' his when ? 
An' he looks uye aae watohfu', the while I explain , 
He's as auld as the hills — he's an auld-rurra[it wean 

And folk wha ha'e skill o' the lumps on the head, 
Hint there's mae ways than toitiu' o' winniu' anc's 

How hell be a rich man, an' ha'e men to work for 

Wr a k;lc like a balUc's, shug ehugging afore liim ; 
Wi' a face like the moon, sober, sonsy, ami douce, 
An* a back, for its breadth, liiic the eide o* a house. 
Tweel I'm unco ta'en up wi't, thej mak' a' aae 

pUir> ; 
He's just a townVtalk — he's a bre-ord'ni 



I ne'er ean forget ilo a laugh as I gat 

To see htm put on father's waistcoat and hatf 

Then the long-leggit boots gaed sae far owcr 

The tap loops wi' big fingers he grippit wi' ease 
Then he mnrcht thro' (he house, ho niareht but 

march t ben, 
Sac like mony mae □' our grcot-litlle men, 
That I Icugh clean outright, for I coitldna conti 
He was sic a concut — eie an oncicnt-liko wean. 




But mid a' his dslfin i 
kindness ho shows, 
That he'i deai 
heart as the dew 
the rose; 

his An' the uncloudeil liinnie'tieani ave in hl« e'e, 
Mak's him ererT day dearer nil' denrer to me. 
Though fortune be wmcy, an' dorty, an' <lour, 
he An' glooms thro' her Giigcrs, like hills tliro' a 

When bodies ha'e got oe bit Iwirn u' (heir aiti, 
in, I He ean cheer up their hearts, — he's tbe wonderfn' 



COCKIE-LEERIE-LA. 



TailtB is a country gentleman, who leads a thrifty 

life, 
nit morning scrapin' orra things thegilher for bie 

wife— 
Wi coat o' glowin' ruddy brown, and wavelet wl' 

gold— 
A crimson crown upon hiii head, well fitting one so 

bold. 

If Ithcn idck where he did scrape, he brings them 

to disgrace. 
For, like a man a' mettle, he-^clike meets hco to 

Ho gi'cs the loons a letherin', a crackit croon to 

There is noe gatm about the buss wi' Coekie-leerie- 



Ois step is firm and evenly, hi! 

sage — 
To bear his rich and ststch 

prelly ]iagc ; 
An' iho' he bauds his head fu' liiu, h> 

the grun, 
Sor fries his rilver spurs in duln ni 
■ the sun : 



And whyles I've tlioet Imd he a t 

grip a slick ie, 
A pair o' specks across his neb, an' 

Tliat weans wad laughin' hand their 



look bolh pravp 
tail should liai 



To'rs 



"I'rt 



: llrawblood, donei> 



TIIE CIIKATKHIK PACKMAK. 



619 



80 learn frae him to think nae shame to work for ; Au* bain vrV 4kro ilk sair-won plack, and honest 

what ye need, I pride will till 

For he that gapes till he be fed, may gape till he Your purse wi' gear— e'en far-aff frien's will bring 



be dead ; 
An' if ye live in idleness, ye'll find unto your 

cost, 
That they wha winna work in heat will hunger in 

the frost. 



grist to your mill ; 

An' if, when grown to be a man, your name's with- 
out a flaw, 

Then mx your neck, and tunc your pipes to — 
Cockie-leerie-la 1 



•♦• 



TUE CHEATERIE PACKMAN. 



BY LEITCn RITCHIE. 



The beings of the mind arc not of clay.— Bybon. 



It was yet pretty early in the morning when I 
arrived at the inn of Skreigh, and never having 
been in that part of the country before, my heart 
misgave me at the appearance of the house, and I 
thought that surely I had mistaken the road, an 
awful idea to a man who had walked twelve miles 
before breakfast ! It was a huge, gray, dismantled 
edifice, standing alone in a wild country, and pre- 
senting evident traces of a time when the bawbeat 
of the traveller might have procured him lodgings 
within its walls for a longer period than suited hin 
convenience. On entering the parlor, although 
the ** base uses" to which this ancient mansion hud 
returned were clearly indicated by certain gill- 
stroups scattered about the dirty tables, yet the 
extraordinary size of the room, the lownesn of the 
walls, and the scantiness of the furniture, kept up 
in my mind the associations which had been sug- 
gested by the exterior; and it was not till the aro- 
ma of tea, and the still more '* fragrant hint" of a 
Finnan haddie had saluted my senses, that the 
visions of the olden time fled from my eyes. 

While busy with my breakfast, another traveller 
came into the room. He had a pack on his back 
and an ellwand in his hand, and appeared to be one 
of those travelling philanthropists — answering to 
the peddlers of the south — who carry into the holes 
and corners of the sylvan world the luxuries of the 
city. Our scene being on the best side of the 
Tweed, I need not say that the body had a sharp 
eye, an oily face, and a God-fearing look. He sat 
down over against me, upon one of the tables, to 
rest his pack, and from his shining shoes and order- 
ly apparel, 1 judged that he had passed the night in 
the hou^e, and was waiting to pay his score, and 
fare forth again upon hLs journey. There was, not- 
withstanding, a singuhir expression of fatigue on 
his yellow countenance. A common observer would 
have guesv^ed that he had been hrlm-fou over night, 
and had risen before he had quite slept off the ef- 
fectfl ; but to me, who am curious in such matters, 
there appeared a something hi his face which in- 
vested with a moral dignity an expression that 
would otherwise have been ludicrous or pitiable. 

Ever and anon he turned a longing eye upon the 
Finnan haddie, but as often edged himself with a 
jerk farther away from the temptation ; and when- 
ever the landlady came into the room, liLs remon- 
strances on her delay, at first delivered in a moan- 
ing, heart-broken tone, became at last absolutely 
cankered. The honest wife, however, appeared 
determined to extend the hospitality of breakfast 
to her guest, and made sundry lame excuses for not 
" bringing ben his score," while she was occupied 
W. disj^ying upon my table, with the most teuipt> 



ing liberality, the various good things that consti- 
tute a Scottiijli breakfast. 

"Are you not for breakfasting, good man," said 
I, at length, ''before you go forth this morning V" 

"No, please God," suid he, with almost a jump, 
" no carnal comfort shall pass my lips on this side 
the mill of Warlock!" 

" The mill of Warlock !" repeated I, with surprise, 
" that should be at least twelve miles from this — 
and I can tell you, my friend, it is not pleasant 
travelling so far on an empty stomach. If you 
have any urgent reason for an abstinence that we 
of the kirk of Scotland attach no merit to, you 
should not have loitered in bed till this hour of the 
morning." 

The packman at my reproof, put on a kii.d of 
bhte look, but his features gathering gradually into 
solemnity — 

"Sir," said he, *'I have urgent reasons for my 
conduct, and while this weary wife is making out 
my score, I will, if you desire it, tell you the story." 
Having eagerly signified my assent, the packman 
wiped his glistening forehead, and with a heavy 
sigh began to discourse as follows : — 

" Aweel, sir — it was at this time yesterday morn- 
ing I arrived at the mill of Warlock. The miller 
was out, and his wife, glad of the opportunity, 
rampauged over my pack like one demented. 
She made me turn out every article in my aught, 
and kept me bargaining about this and that, and 
flyting by the hour about the price ; and after all it 
came to pass that the jaud ((lod forgive me!) want- 
ed naething of more value than three ells of riband ! 
You may be sure that I was not that pleased; and 
what with fatigue, and what with my vexation, 
while I was measuring the riband, and the wife 
sklanting round at the looking-glass, I just clipped 
— by mistake like — a half-ell short. Aweel, yell 
say that was just naething after the fash I had had, 
and moreover, I stoutly refused the second glass of 
whiskev she oftered me to the douroch ; and so, 
shouldering my pack again, I took the way in an 
evil hour to the inn of Skreigh. 

** It was late at night when I arrived here, and I 
had been on my legs all day, so that you may think 
my heart warmed to the auld biggin, and I looked 
forward to naething waur than a cozy seat by the 
ingle-side, or chat with the landlady — a douce 
woman, sir, and not aye so slow as the now, foul 
fa' her! ((iod forgive me!^ forby, maybe, a half 
mutchin — or twa : and all these things of a truth I 
had. Not that I exceeded the second stoup, a 
practice which I hold to be contra bonos mores — 
but ye'U no understand Latin? ye'll be from the 
south? Aweel — but there was something mair, ye 



THE CHKATEBIK I'ACltMAS. 



620 

ken, quite u noccwaT; for & Cbfbtum trarcUer, 
■nd a vearied nisn ; mid at la»t, with a greaX f^uiit, 
I sperrred at tlio Nirving bltxi« tor my bL-droom. 

" > Ucd-ruoiii,' quo' she, 'yc'U no be ganging to 
Hleeplicre tlia iiiglit?' 

" * Atwcvl,' Miiil llie miatrcivi, ' I am uiica wat, 
but CTery room in the hoOiH.' U t\i'. Hunt ! it's but 
;i Mcp to the town — no ahuae twal mileii and a bit- 
locli — and ye ken every incll of tlie way na wccl ax 
tliG briuid nuili on your ellwand.' I wiiih I iimy be 
forgi'en fur [lie )>(ii>»ion tliey put me iiitil ! To 
thiak of et'Qding me out aueli u gait my lane, and 
near the sma' boura I 

" ' yc Juud I' erie'l I, ' if the gudi'iuui vov n 
in the yird llie iii;;Ut, ye would eruw till a diftbrci 
tuno !' nud with tliat sui'h a hullilinliuo wag raiwd 
aoung uip, that at lout the folkit be);an to 
their lihoutlKirfi at tlio dour in tlieir E«rka I 
IS the mutter. 



was not a whish In the houie, and not a stime of 
light in the room. I counted over my bnrgaing fur 
the day, and half wuhed I had not made the mis- 
take with the millerV wife ; I put my hand out at 
tlie Block of the bed and felt my pack, autuain^ my- 
self by thinking wliat was thid lump and that; but 
Mill I could not alvep. Then by degreen my other 
jctiMs, as weU on thu touch, wearied uf Iwlng awake 
Olid duing DOlhiiig — tlcnd tak them — (Cod forgive 
me t) Hjught employment. I liHlpncd as if in ii[uto 
of my«clf, to lleilr whether there was any thing stir- 
ring In tlie liuuiM>, and looked out of tlic curtains ta 
aeo if any light came through the window chinks. 
N'ot a whiiih — not a stimcl Then I said my prayers 
over aguiii. and bejnn to wiHh griuvuuKly that Iha 
creature had bur half-4'tl iit* liliond. Then mv iiok 
must needs be in the hulibtc, and I thought i fvh k 
stnell. Itwasnullhat iHidavmell.but itwoaasmell 
I did nut know, and tbercl'urc did not like. Tlic air 




" ' Awecl, aweel,' wiid ihc laniiladr, in the binder 
end, i|uiic furfuughten, a wilfu' man maun hae his 
war. TliiTu is hut ae rooin In the bouse wheri> 
there is nu u living Miul, and it's naeching but an 
mid luniber-ruiim. Hiiwevpr, if yuu can pn-is the 
time with nnotlicr half-mulch in while Jcntiynnd me 
rig up the bed. It will be as much at your servlci' 
as a deccntcr pliee.' Aiul M>, liaving gotten the 
battle, I sat myself down again, and Jenny brought 
in the other irtoup — yt-H be wiyiiig that was the 
third 1 but there'it lue rale without an exception, 
and moreover ve ken, ' three's aye canny.* 

" At hwt ani\ at h-ngth, I gut Into my bed-room, 
Hud it WHS no thut lll-hioking at all. It was a good 
■lizenble mum, witli a few sticks of old fumiture, 
I'lrhy a kirgc old-faiiliiuned Ix'd. I luld niy pack 
rlnwii, as U my cui^luni, by the heibiile, and after 
Haying my pruycrs, put out the candle and tuni- 
htvd in. 

'■ Aweel, sir, whether it wan owing (o my being ' 
over fatigued, or to the third itunp In dcKaoco of 
the proTi'rb being no cunny, I know not, but for 
the life of me I could not slei^p. The bed was not 
a bad bed, it was roomy and convenient, and there 



Memed close — feverifih; I threw off the lieik'hithes, 
and began to pulT and pant. Oh, I diit wi^h then 
thai I h^dIll^v.'^ r<eei> tlie phv-^io^ruf the miller's wife • 

" I beg-.iii to l>e afraid. The entire hlleiice «-<'m- 
ed strange, the utter darkncis mure iilrnlige, and 
the ftrange s<nicll stranger than all. I at lin.t grHi<p- 
cd at the licil-i'lolhen, and pulled thi'iu over my 
head; hut I had buttled in thcHiielUith me; and, 
rendered tntob'ruble by the heat, it «'emed like the 
very ewcneo of tvphiis. I tliri'W off the clothes 
agtiin in a fright, iind felt peraundeil thut I uai- jiL't 
in the net of taking sumtt awful fever, I would 
have given the world t" have been able to ri^e and 
open the window, but thu world would have liceii 
ufTcn-d me in vain to <lo aueh n thing. I < iinlenti'd 
myself with Happing the slievt like a fan, and Iliruw. 
ing mv arms abroad to catch the wind. 

" Sfy right hand, which was tuwar<U the Kiin'k of 
tlie bed. coui'tatlllv Kglited upon m> luich, but my 
left cuuld feel Dncthilig at all, save liial lli<-rc was a 
sjiuce between the lied nud llie wnll. At lu^t, h'an- 
ing more uvcr in that dirveiion than iKicmfcire, 
my hand eneoiintcrcii something a little lower ih^i" 
the surface of the bed, and 1 suateheil it iiue^ 



Tire scxrrrisn tea-paktt. 



621 



a smothered cry, I knev no more than the man in 
the moon what the something was, but it sent a 
tingle through my frame, and I felt the sweat begin 
to break over my brow. I would have turned to 
the other side, but I felt as heavy to my own mus- 
cles as if I had been made of Icaid ; and besides, a 
fearful curiosity nailed me to the spot. I persuaded 
myself that it was from this part of the bed that the 
smell arose. Sk>on, however, with a sudden despe- 
ration, I plunged my hand again into the terrible 
abyss, and it rested upon a cauld, stiff, clammy 
facet 

**Now, sir, I would have you to ken^ that al- 
though I cannot wrestle with the hidden sympathies 
of nature, I am not easily frightened. If the stout- 
est robber that ever broke brecks — ay, or ran bare, 
for there be such in the Hielands, — was to lay a fin- 
ger on my pack, I would haud on like grim death ; 
and it is not to toll, that I can flyte about ao baw- 
bee with the dourest wife in the country-side ; but 
och, and alas ! to see nie at that moment, on the 
braid of mv back, with mv eves shut, and niv teoth 
set, and one hand on the physiog of a corp ! The 
greatest pain I endured was from the trcinblinfij of 
my body, for the motion forced my hand into 
closer connection with the horrors of its restinj^- 
place; while I had no more power to withdraw it 
than if it had been in the thumb-screws. 

" And there I lay, sir, with my eyes steeked, as 
if with screw-nails, my brain wandering and con- 
fused, an<i whole rivers of sweat spouting down my 
body, till at times I thought I bad got fou, and 



was lying sleeping in a ditch. To tell you the 
history of my thoughts at that time is impossible; 
but the miller*3 wife, wo be upon her ! she rode 
me like the night-hag. I think I nmst have been 
asleep a part of the time, for I imagined that the 
wearisome half-ell of riband was tied about my neck 
like a halter, and that I was on the eve of being 
choked. I ken not how long I tholed this torment ; 
but at last I heard voices and sounds, as if the 
sheriffs* officers of hell were about me, and in a 
sudden agony of great fear, I opened my eyes. 

** It was broad morning ; the sun was shining into 
the room ;* and the landlady and her lasses were 
ri\ing my hand from the face of the corpse. After 
casting a bewildered glance around, it was on that 
fearful object my eyes rested, and I recognized the 
remains of an old serving lass, who it seems died 
the day before, and was huddled into that room, to 
be out of the way of the company." 

At this moment the landlady entered the room 
with his score, and while the packman sat wiping 
his brow, entered upon her defence. 

" Ye ken, sir," said whe, '* that ye wad sleep in the 
house, and a wilfu' nmn maun hae his way ; but gin 
ve had lain Ktill, Uke an honest bodv wi' a clean 
conscience, and no gaen rani[jauging about wi' your 
hands where ye had no business, the feint a harm 
it wftuld hae done ye!" The packman only an- 
swered with a glance of ire, as he thundered down 
the bawbees upon the table, and turning one last 
look upon the Fiiman haddle, groaned deeply, and 
went forth upon his journey. 



»♦• 



THE SCOTTISn TEA-PARTY. 



BY JOHN DONALD CARRICK. 



\ 



Now let's sing how Miss M'Wharty, 
T'other evening hc.d a party, 

To have a cup of tea ; 
And how she had collected 
All the friends that she respected, 

All a^ merry as merry could be. 
Dames and damsels came in dozens, 
With two-three country cousins, 

In their lily-whites so gay ; 
Just to sit and chitter-chatter, 
O'er a cup of scalding water, 

In the fashion of the day. 

•{Spoken in different female voices.) *Dear me, 
how nae ye been this lang time, mem?' * Pretty 
weel, I thank ye, mem. How hae ye been yoursel V 
* mem, I've been vera ill wi' the rheumatisms, 
and though I were your tippet, I couldna be fu'er 
o' iiitches than I am ; but whan did ve sec Mrs. 
Pinkerton?' *0 mem, I haena seen her this lang 
time. Did ye no hear that Mrs. Pinkerton and I 
hae had a difference?' * No, mem, I didna hear. 
What was't about, mem ?' ' Y\\ tell jou what it 
was about, mem. I gaed o'er to ca' upon her ae 
day, and when I gaed in, ye see, she's sitting fee<i- 
ing the parrot, and I says to her, * Mrs. Pinkerton, 
how d ye do, mem ?' and she never let on she heard 
me ; and I says again, * Mrs. Pinkerton, how d'ye 
do ?' I says, and wi' that she turns about, ami says 
she, ' Mrs. M'Saunler, Pm really astonished you 
should come and ask me how I do, considering the 



manner vou'vc ridiculed me and mv husband in 
public companies !' * Mrs. Pinkerton,' quo' I, 

* what's that ye mean, mem ?' an<l then she began 
and gied me a' the ill-mannered abusepyou can pos- 
sibly conceive. And I jdst says to her, quo' I, * Mrs. 
Pinkerton,' quo' I, * that's no what I cam to hear, 
and if that's the way ye intend to gae on,' quo' I, * I 
wish ye gude morning ;' so I comes awa. Now PU 
tell ye what a' this was about. Ye see, it was just 
about the term time, ye ken, they flitted aboon us, 
and I gaed up on the term morning to see if they 
wanted a kettle boiled or any thing o' that kind ; 
and when I gaoil in, Mr. Pinkerton, he's sitting in 
the middle o' the floor, and the barber's shaving him, 
and the barber had laid a' his face round wi' the 
white saip, and Mr. Pinkerton, ye ken, has a very red 
nose, and the red nose sticking through the white 
saip, just put me in mind o' a carrot sticking through 
a cofhiflomr ; and I very innocently hapj>ened to 
mention this in a party where I had been dining, 
and some officious body's gane and tell't Mrs. Pin- 
kerton, and Mrs. Pinkerton's ta'eu this tronderfully 
amiss. What d'ye think o' Mrs. Pinks*' *Deed, 
mem, she's no worth vour while ; but did vou hear 

1 W ' » 

what happened to Mrs. Clapperton the ither day V 
' No, mem. What's happened to her, poor body ?* 

* I'll tell you that, mom. You see, she was coming 
down Montrose street, and she had on a red pelisse 
and a white muff, and there's a bubbly-jock* coming 

• Turkov-cock. 



022 



THE SCOTTISH TKA-PARTY. 



out o' the brewerce — and whether the red pelisse 
had ta'en the beast's eye or no, I dinna ken, but the 
bubbly-jock riiis after Mrs. Clapperton, aud Mri<. 
Clapperton ran, pour body, and the bubbly-jock after 
her, and in crossing the causeVf ye see, her fit slip- 
pet, and the nmfif flew frae her, and there's a cart 
coming past, and the wheel o' tlie cart gacs o'or 
the inufY*, and ae gentleman rins and lifts Mrs. Clap- 
perton, and anither lifts the muff, and when he 
looks into the muff, wluit's there, b\it a wee bit 
broken bottle, wi* a wee soup brutidy in't ; and the 
gentlemen fell a looking and laughing to ano ani- 
ther, and thcyVe gaun al>out to their dinner parties 
and their sui)]>er parties, and telUng about Mrs. 
CUpperton wi' the bubbly-jock and the bottle o* 
brandy. Now it's vera ill done o' the gentlemen to 
do any thing o' the kind, for Mi's. Clajtpcrton was 
just like to drap down wi' perfect vexation, for shi-'s 
a body o^ that kind o' laithfu' kind o' disposition, she 
would just as soon take a(|uafortis ixn she would take 
brandy in ony clandestine kind o' manner ! 

Each gem man at his post now, 
In handing tea or tonst now, 

Is striving to outshini' ; 
TVhile keen to find a haudU* 
To tip a little scandal. 

The ladies nil combine : 
Of this one's dress or carriage, 
Or t'other's death or murriugc. 

The dear chit-chat's kept up ; 
While the lady from the table, 
Is calling while she's able — 

" Will you have another cup?" 

* Dear me, you're no <lone, mem — you'll take an- 
other cup, mem — take out your spoon.^ *()li no, 
mem, I never take mair than ae cup upon ony occa- 
sion.' ' Toot?, sic nonsense.* * You may toots awa, 
but it*s true sense, mem. And whan did ye see Mrs. 
Petticraw, mem V * Deed, I hnena seen her this 
lang time, and I'm no wanting to see her ; she's a 
body o' that kind, that just gangs frae house to 
house gathering clashes, and gets her tea here and 
her tea ther«, and tells in your house what she 
hears in mine, and when she begins, she claver 
da vers on and on, and the claver just comes frae 
her as if it cam' aif a cfewy and there's nae end o' 
her.' * you maun excuse her, poor body, ye ken 
flhc's lost a' her teefh^ and her tongue ^ttiaries in her 
mouth wantin' conijHtni/.^ ' Deed they may excuse 
her that wants her, for it's no me. Oh ! ladies, did 
ye hear what's hap])ened in Mr. M'Farlane's family? 
there's an awfu' circumstance hap]>ened in thnt 
fiimily. Mr. and Mrs. M'Farlane haevna spoken to 
anc anither for this fortnight, and I'll tell you the 
reason o't. Mrs. M'Farlane, poor body, had lost 
ane o' her teeth, and she gaed awa to the dentist to 
get a tooth put in, and the dentist showed her twa- 
threc kinds o' them, and amang the rest he showed 
her a Waterloo ane, and she thought she would hae 
a Waterloo ane, poor body. Weel the dentist puts 
in ane to her, and the tooth's running in her head 
a' day, and when she gangs to her bed at nicht, as 
she tells me — hut I'm certain she must have been 
dreaming— just about ane or twa o'clock o' the 
morning, mem, just about ane or twa o'clock in the 
morning, when she looks out o' her bed, there's a 
ffretU tariff sodger standing at the l>cdside, and 
quo' she, * Man, what are ye wanting ? ' she says. 
Quo' he, ^ Mrs. M'Farlane, that's my tooth that ye^'e 
got iu your mouth.' * Your tooth ! ' quo* she, ' the 



very tooth I bought the day at the dentist's I ' * It 
does na matter for that,' quo' he, " I loi^t it at Wa- 
terloo.* ' Ye lost it at Waterloo, sic nonsense ! ' 
Weel, wi* that he comes forret to pit his linger into 
Mrs. M'Farlane's mouth to tak' the teeth outi o' her 
mouth, and she gies a snap, and catcIiM him by the 
fingi'r, and he gied a great scriech and took her a 
gowf i' the side o' the head, and that waukened her, 
and when she waukens, what has she gotten but 
Mr. M'Farlane's finger atwecn her teeth, and him 
roariug like to gang out o' his jud;rmont ! ! Noo, 
Mr. M'Farlane has been gaun about wi' his thumb in a 
clout, and looking as surly as a bear, for he thinks 
Mrs. M*I'1irIane had done it out o' spito, because he 
wadna let her buv a sofa at a sale the other dav: 
noo it's vera ill-done o' Mr. M'Farliine to tiiink ony 
thing o' that kind, as if ony woman wouhl gang 
and bite her oin ^cMh and hlfffxl if she hut »>'/.' 

Miss M'Wlmrty, with a sniiU'. 
Asks the ladit-s to beguile 

An hour with whist or loo ; 
Wliile old uncle crios " Pon'i pla^'ue ui? ; 
Hring the toddy and the n(.'«:us — 

We'll have a stuig or lu(»." 
" Oh dear me, unt-le Josiph I 
Pray do not snap one's no.-c ofl ; 

You'll have toddv whi-n vim'n- {\v\, 

» • • 

With i\ little ham and chit-ken. 
An' some (Jther dainty piekin' 
For the ladies, bv-and-bv.'' 

*Weel, mem, how's your frien' \\r>. Ilowdyson 
coming on in tiiae tinjes, when there is sue muckle 
inHuenza gaun about ainang faniili<'S ? ' ' Mrs. liow- 
dv«^on ! na, ve maun ask somehodv that kens better 
about her than I do. I ha nae seen Mrs. Howdy- 
son for three months.' ' Dear nn- ! do yi» tell nie 
sue? you that used to ]>o like twa sisters I how <lid 
sic a wondcrfu' change a** that come about y ' * 'Deed, 
mem, it was a verv siilv matter did it a'. Some live 
months since, ye see, mem (but ye maunna be 
speaking about it), Mrs. llowd\son called on me ae 
forenoon, and after sitting awhile she drew a paper 
parcel out o' her muft : — * Ye'll no ken what this is f ' 
said she. *No,' quo I, * it's no very likely.' ' Weel, 
it's my worthy husband's satin breeks, that he had 
on the day mc were married; and I'm gaun awa to 
Miss Gushat to get her to mak them into a bonnet 
for mysel. fi>r 1 hai* a great respect for thorn on ac- 
count of Inm that's awa'.' R«'Sj>ect ! thinks I to my- 
.«el (for about this time she was spoke o' wi' Deacon 
Furdie), queer kind o' resju^ct ! — trying to catch a 
new guidman wi' a bonnet made out o' the auld 
ane's brtteksl — ^Ijut I said nothing. Weel. twa or 
three weeks after this, I was takinir a walk wi' 
anither ladv, and wha should we nun^t but Mrs. 
Ilowdvson, wi' a fine, flashv, black satin bonnet on! 
So, we stopped, and chatted about the weather, 
and the great mortality that was in tl»e town, and 
when shaking hands wi' her at ])arting. I, witliout 
meaning ony ill, gae a nod at her bonnet, and hap- 
pened to .««ay, in my thoughtless kind (»' way, ' Is that 
the breeks)!' never mindiu* at the time that there 
was a stranger lady wi' me. Now this was maybe 
wrang in me, but considering our intimacy, I never 
dreamed she had ta'en't amiss till twa three Smi- 
days after, 1 met her gaun to the kirk alang wi^ 
Miss Purdic, and I happened to hm* on ani' o' thae 
new fashionable boiniets — really, it was an el(>gant 
shaped bonnet ! and trinmied in the most tasteful 
and becoming ntanner — it was, in short, such a bon- 



EXTBACrS FBOM THE LAIKD OF LOOAK. 



628 



net as ony lady might have been proud to be seen 
in. Woel, for a* that, moin, we hadna stood lang 
before she began on my poor bonuetf and called it 
a* the ugly-looking things she could think o\ and 
advised mo to gang hame and change it, for I 
looked so vulgar and dafilikc iii*t. At length I got 
nettled at her abuse, for I kent it was a' out o* 
spite ; Mrs. Howdyson, says I, the bonnet may be 
biuth vulgar and daftlike, as you say, but Vm no 
half sae vulgar or lae duftliko as I wad be, if, like 
iwne/oik*^ I were gaun to the kirk wi' a pair o' 
avldhrttJcM onmy head! So I tunis on my lu^land 
left them; but though it was the Sabbath-day, I 
could not help thinking to mysel — ^my hidy, I trow 
I*ve given yoa a lozenge to souk that'll keep you 
frae sleeping better than ony confectionary youVe 
ta'cn to the kirk wi* ye this while.* 

*WoeI, ladies, there arc some strange kind o' 
folks to be met with after a\ Fve just been listen- 
ing to your crack, and it puts me in mind of a new 
married lady I was visiting the ither day. Before 
she was married, she was one of the dressiest belles 
we had about the town ; and as for changing bon- 
nets, you would seldom meet her twice wi* the same 
ane on. But now, though she has been little niair 
than three months married, she has become one of 
the most idle tawpie drabs that over was seen, and 
has 80 many romantic fancies and stupid conceits 
about her, that I often caiina help pitying the poor 
husband. Besides, she kens nae mair about house 
matters than if she had never heard o' hIc things. 
She was an only dochter, you see, uud, like the ewe*8 
pet lamb, she got mair licking than learning, Jui«t 
to gio ye an instance o^ her management, — she told 
me she was making preparations for a dinner that 
her husband was going to give in a day or two, and, 
araang ither things, she said that he wanted a tur- 
key in ruffles.* * Turkey in ruffles ! quo I, that's a 
queer kind u' a dish ! ' * Queer as it is, Fll manage 
it.' * I would like to see it,* quo* I. So wi* that, 
she rings the bell and orders the servant to bring it 
ben. Weel, what's this but a turkey ; the feathers? 



were aff, to be sure, which showed some sma' glim- 
mering o* sfcnse, but the neck o* the beast was a* 
done up wi* fine cambric ruffles ; these were to be 
ta'en aff, it seems, till it was roasted, and then It 
was to get on its finery again, so as to appear in full 
puff before the company, and this was what she 
called a turkey in ruffles. * Dear me, quo* I, this is a 
way o* dressing a turkey I never saw before — ^I'm 
thinking the guidman must have meant turkey and 
truffles.* ^Truffles!* cried she, looking like a be- 
wildered go(tse, and * what's truffles, in a the world V 
* Just look your cookery-book, quo* I, and you*U 
find that truffles are no made o* cambric muslin.* 
Now, ladics.did you ever hear such ignorance? but, 
better than that, she went on to tell me how ihe 
had sent the servant to the market to buy a hare, 
to majc soup o' : but, says she, * what do you think 
the stupid creature did ? instead of a hare, she 
brought mc twa rabbits ; now, ye ken, mem, rab- 
bits dinna niak guid haresoup.* * No, quo* I ; hare- 
Hoiip niiide o* rabhitn may be a rare dish, but it*8 no 
to my tuste.* * That's just my opinion; so, as 
they're gay and white in the fiesh, I*m thinking just 
tf> make a bitveal-pio o' them;— what do you think 
o' that for economy ? ' * Excellent, quo* I, if you 
can manage it.* * But,* said she, * l*m to hae a 
haggis too, as a novelty to some English gentlemen 
thnt are to bo of the jwrty ; now, Vm thinking of 
having the bag of the haggis died turkey-red ; it*8 
a fancy o* my aio, and I think it would astonish 
them ; besides, it would cut such a dash on the ta- 
bic* *• Dash on the table ! quo* I, nae doubt it 
would cut a dash on the table; — but wha ever 
heard o* a turkey-red haggis before ? * Now, I 
think, ladies, if my frien* can either make hart-»oup 
or a real'pie out of a pair of rabbits, she'll be even 
a greater genius than Mr;:. Howdyson, wi* her new 
bonnet made out o' a pair of auld breeks ! * 

So thus to sit and clutter chatter 
O'er a cup o' scalding water. 
Is the i'ttsthion o' the dav. 



EXTRACTS FROM "THE LAIRD OF LOGAN." 

BY JOHN DONALD CARRICK. 



The Usual Apology. — Logan hapi)ened one 
evening to be at a convivial party in Irvine, where 
the toast and the song performed their merry 
round. A lady present being called on to con- 
tribute to the hilarity of the evening, excused 
herself by saying she had only one song, and it was 
80 threadbare, she was afraid to sing it. *' Hoot, 
madam,** cried our wag, " so much the better, for 
if its threadbare, you'll get the easier through it." 

Good Excuse for a Bad Hat. — ^Logan, like some 
other eccentrics, seems to have disHked parting 
with his old habiliments. Visiting London on some 
occasion, he was met by an acquaintance in one of 
the fashionable regions of the city, who, ob.serving 
the Laird to have on a ^' shocking bad hat," could 
not refrain from expressing his surprise at his negli- 
gence. "Oh," rejoins the wit, *'it makes nae dif- 
lerence what I wear here — no ane kens nie.*' This, 
of course, was a settler. Some short time afler- 
wanls, however, the parties met again in Edinburgh, 
at Logan*s old favorite haunt — the old favorite 
chapoau still maintained its crowning eminence. 



Now, thinks the assailant, I shall certainly hedge 
him. " Well, Logan, still sticking to the old hat !" 
*'Hoot, man '."replies the wit, dryly, ** what mat- 
ters what I wear here ?— ^'verybody kens me.'* 



Love at Sioht. — ^A servant girl, of no strong 
intellect, who lived with a lady in the neighborhood 
of Faisley, one day surprised her mistress by giring 
up her place. The lady inquired the cause, and 
found that it was that fertile source of dissension 
between mistress and maid-servant — a lad. " And 
who is this lad ?" inquired her mistress. " Ou, he's 
a nice lad — a lad that sits in the kirk just foreuant 
me." " And when does he intend that you and he 
should be married ?'* *' I dinna ken." *' Are you 
sure he intends to marry you at all V" "I daur say 
he doe.-, mem." " Have you had much of each 
other's company y" " No yet." " When did you 
last converse with him V* " Deed, we hae nae con- 
verst?<l ava yot.'* " Then how should you suppose 
that he is going to marry you ?" " Ou," replied the 
simple girl, *' he's been laug look in* ut me, and I 
think he'll soon be speakiu'." 



AS Air»iiii>: wrrNtjis. 



AN Al'DIBLE WITXESS. 




Sous yesri bso, Lord irs« presiding at 

lilxolt trial in Glasgov, where several femuleB we 
in vuceeaslon Piamined as vitDeivieB. AVlielhcr 

i> their unusual exposure In the 
box, (a square stnicture in the centre of Ihc Court 
Hall, elersted ronaiderablj abore (he Boor,) from 
fear of thrar expressions beln^ taugbcd at. or from 
irhsleier cause, certain it is, thoj spoke eo inaudi- 
\ij and inditstinctl J, that tbu jurj, again and again, 
complained, and his lordHliip lis often ailmotiisbcd 
tliem to s|«ak out ; but, uotnithetiniUnj; retH'aied 
admonitions, tliej n;;aiD and agun resumed their 
uiulur tone till of new rrniinded: — on tliiii aceuunt, 
the patience of ihc Juilgc nod loost teveri'ly iriod, 
and by the time (he eiamliiatlon was liuiiibed, he 
VBd Ti^blj aupprctistnf; great irrit:ition. At tlils 
juncture, there approached [lirougli the econil, to- 
varda the witne^^ box, & tnlt, xtuut fellow, with a 
fiulian slccTtsI jueki^t, eanaciuus conluruf inex- 
pressible:!, blue n^'-and-fur hose, and Miwig liiin|>a 
of shoes, well Bujiplu'd will] tackrli' — who, wi(li 
nvier-like thumpa, tramped up (lie wooden slepj 
m[D the box, laid liis bonnet on (hu svat, and san»- 
mf himaclf down on it, etured about with Kecniing 
indiHerence, u if he bad nothing uioro to do. 
Tlilii uiicommoD nonchnlnnee liizi lurdsbip ejed 
with mirprise, and liai4iij; promjitl; ordered bim to 
^itand up, utid administered Ihc oath, he, with a 
fearliil «cowl and gruff manner, addreswd him: 
"Wiini'iis, let me tcU you, that my brother (mean- 
ing the otlier Judge) and I have this day been put 
to ]m<at trouble examining witnesses who would not, 
or could not, (.peak above their breath ; — now, fir, 1 
«ij you're a i-lrdiig young man, and biding a carter, 
an I understand, uiid aeeustonied to spi'uk out to 
your hor<ei^ you can have no flueh apology ; and, 



to jail in an inManl.~ Ere this volley was well 
over, the witnepif, uDennsviuns of wrouc by liiin to 
tall fbrsui'h a threat, ebatiflvdcotrir— iiliiicd nildlv 
around — liitchcd up tlii' headband of his small 
clotlie^ — and betrayed aui-batrau).'!- iiynipliinii<, that 
Ills lordxhi]), imputing them to tli.'hviH-et or in> 
difference, called out. ">tiind Mill, idr — tiiiinl what 
IVc Mill to vou." Tills acU'd like an eli'drie fhock 
on the witnciM, for Le insiantly gms)H>d ilie bar be- 
fore him, Htoud «iiick -still, Knidngn!)|<clritied. His 
lordal|ip then resiimeil Ids real, nuil called out to 

the Witney " What'ii ycnir na !"" " llnnld; 

H'Luckie," was iiii'tantly roand out in a voice nior« 
rcsenihling the diseliargc of a piece of artUlery, 
tlian tlie ordinary action of (he vocal organs, Tlie 
amixeiuent was succecdeil by a buntt of irrepret^i- 
blc laagliter from thu uuiUilui-, and the L'ngtbenei) 
bawloP'Si-lence,'' by the nuicer, uliile llie eflbet 
of it on Lis lordship was ciich, llint. inslini- lively 
dropping the pen, chipping l>olh luiinL-i to \tU ears, 
and looking diig^.'er* at Rauldy, be ewliiimeil, 
"Wliat's tbc meaning of tluit. sir<" Ikinldy, who 
thought his lord«liip now meant to ipiarrel with 
him for not sjieakiiig loud enough, iiiiiin'ilialcty an- 
swered iu the same tone, " I never spoke louder lo 



CATCHING A TARTAR. 



625 



the brutes in my life." A perfect explosion of 
laughter succeeded; which, for some time, defied 
OTerj effort of the maccr and the court to get re- 

gressed; even his lordship, whose kindness of 
eart was well known, smilingly observed, ** Surely 
Tou donH consider us your brutes, sir, — ^you should 
know there's a difference betwixt roaring and speak- 
ing. Remember where youVe standing, sir/' This 
memento wrought on Biftildy prodigiously — ^his 
bimds clenched conTulsivcly the bar in front — ^the 
perspiration broke in drops on his face — his eyes 
seemed fixed, and liis whole frame fearfully agitated. 
In Tain were questions put to him from both sides 
of the bar — ^fruitless were expostulations or threats 
— ^his answers were all of the non ini recordo class, 
except two, to which no importance seemed at- 
tached by any one, unless Bauldy, namely, ^* That 
be staid wi* his mithcr in the Briggate; and he 
kent she was aulder than himser." ijecing, there- 
fore, that nothing further could bo elicited from 
Bauldy, his lordship imputed it to Bauldy's wish to 
conceal the truth, in a surly manner ordered him to 



get away. This operated like a charm; Bauldy 
and bonnet were instantly in motion. His preci- 
pitate tramp down the narrow steps, however, 
ended rather ungracefully, for having tripped him- 
self, down he came, at length, on the top of a man, 
whose rueful gestures and looks, under the wei^t 
and desperate grasp of Bauldy, found no consola- 
tion or apology, other than the convulsive laughter 
of the audience, and the hasty remark of Bauldy at 
striding away — '* Did ye e*er see sick a cankry buf- 
fer as that/' On getting outside the court, Bauldy*s 
mother and some cronies were overheard asking 
him how he had come on ; — ** Come on,*^ said he, 
** I thought the auld buffer would hae worried me ; 
ho said he would send roe down to jail whaur I 
stood — I lost my sight — and gaed clean doited— 1 
was like to swarf, but I held firm by the bauk, for 
fear they might knock the boddom frae neath my 
feet, and send me below in an instant, as he said — 
yon's uae fun ava. Come awa, lads, my throat's as 
dry OS a whistle, and gi'e me a dram to draik the 
dust." 



•»> 



CATCHING A TARTAR. 



^n impitblis^eb (^apitr from **i\^t l^ife of Panne XBatit^* % Sailor.'' 

BT DAVID MAC7BETH MOIR (DILTA). 



From the first moment I clapped efn on the 
caricature thing of a coat, that Tommy Bodkin 
had, in my absence, shaped out for Cursccowl the 
butcher, I foresaw, in my own mind, that a catas- 
trophe was brewing for us ; and never did soldier 
gird himself to fight the French, or sailor prepare 
for a sea-storm, with greater alacrity, than I did to 
cope with the bull-dog anger, and buffet back the 
uproarious vengeance of our heathenish customer. 

At first I thought of letting the thing take its 
natural course, an#of 'threaping down Cursocowl's 
throat, that he must have been feloniously keeping 
in his breath, when Tommy took his measure ; and, 
moreover, that as it was the fashion to be straight- 
laced, Tommy had done his utmost, trying to make 
him look like his betters ; till, my conscience check- 
ing me for such a nefarious intention, I endeavored, 
as became me in the relations of man, merchant, 
and Christian, to solder t)ie matter peaceably, and 
show him, if there was a fioiult committed, that 
there was no evil intention on my side of the house. 
To this end, I despatched the bit servant wench, on 
the Friday afternoon, to deliver the coat, which 
was neatly tied up in brown {mper, and directed — 
•* Mr. Cursccowl, with care," and to buy a sheep*s 
head ; bidding her, by way of being civil, give my 
kind compliments, and enquire how Mr. and Mrs. 
Cursccowl, and the five little Miss Cursocowls, were 
keeping their healths, and trusting to his honor in 
sending me a good article. But have a moment's 
patience. 

Boing busy at the time, turning a jmr of kutti- 
kins for old Mr. Mooleypoucb, the mealmongcr, 
when the lassie came back, I hnd no mind of ask- 
ing a i<i^ht of the shecpV head, as I aye like the 
little blrtck-faccd, in preference to the whito, fat, 
fozy Cbev-iot-breed ; but, most providentially, I 
catched a gliskie of the wench passing the shop- 
window, on the road over to Jacob Coom, the 



smith's, to get it singed, having been despatched 
there by her mistress. Running round the counter 
like lightning, I opened the sneck, and hallooed to 
her to wheel to the right about, having, somehow 
or other, a superstitious longing to look at the 
article. As I was saying, there was a Providence 
in this, which, at the time, mortal man could never 
have thought of. 

James Batter had popped in with a newspaper 
in his hand, to read mo a curious account of a 
Mermaid, that was seen singing a Gaelic song, 
and combing its hair with a tortoiseshell comb, 
someway terrible far north about Shetland, by a 
rei?pectable minister of the district, riding homo in 
the gloaming, after a presbytery dinner. Bo, as he 
was just taking off his spectacles cannily, and say- 
ing to me — "And was not that droll?" — ^the lassie 
spread down her towel on the counter, when, lo! 
and behold ! such an abominable spectacle ! James 
Batter observing me run back, and turn white, put 
on his glasses again, cannily taking them out of his 
well-worn shagreen case, and, giving a stare down 
at the towel, £most touched the beast's nose with 
his own. 

" And what in the name of goodness is the mat- 
ter?" quo' James Batter; "ye seem in a wonderful 
quandary I" 

"The matter!" answered I, in astonishment; 
looking to see if the man had lost his sight or his 
senses — " the matter! who ever saw a sheep's head 
with straight horns, and a visnomy, all colors of the 
rainbow — red, blue, orange, green, yellow, white, 
and black ?" 

" Deed it i«," said James, after a nearer inspec- 
tion; "it must be a lowsy-naturay. I'm sure 1 
have read most of Buffon's books, and I have never 
heard toll of the like. It's gey and querish." 

" Od ! James," answered I, " ye take every thing 
very canny ; you're a philosopher, to be sure ; but. 



OATC(!IS<] A TARTAR. 



1 dare my, if the moon iraii 10 Tull ffoni ihe lift, 
and kiiDiik doirn the olil kirk, re wuutd M7 no 
more than ' it'ii gey and quecriali.'" 

" Qiieurlsli, lunn ! do yc; not eec thatfoildcd I, 
Nhoviii); doirn his hca<l iiio«Cly on the lop of it. 
"Do )'L> not ice ibutt awful, moKt awfiill txlonii^h- 
iiifc! I Do yc not lec that long beard? Who. in 
the aaiiii* ofgoudiiciia, ever waa an kvu-wUtH'M tn a 
Nhccp'!t head, in a Ctiriiitiun Lind, with a lieiird Aktf 
an niuhaTeti juw, tTyitiff ■ owl clowos,' with a grwn 
bag OTpr hii lutt nhnuldcr!" 

" Dog on it," Kuiil James, glviti); a Sd^n with his 
faolnchcs ; " UofS an it, M 1 nni a Tiring Hiuiicr, thut 
il the head of a AVilly coat." 

" AVilUe, or N'annie, an^irereil I, " It'* not nipni 
Ibr me ; and never ritall an ounci- of it rrosa die 
rraig of my luinily ; — that U, an siiro an ever Jaiiii'^ 
Halter drare a iliuiUn. Gitp counsel in iitcd, 
Jamci; wliiit in to )« duner" 

"Dint necdn (fiwideration," (|iio' JamM, (tiiinj; 
a bit hiiast. " I'lileiw be makes ample ajmlogy, and 
extiliiina liip niiHtukc in a fi«i4blc way, it ia my 
hamlilu oiiininn that lie au||:ht to 1>o nnmnmncd Ite- 
fOTG liU tictti'm. Thai in the le^nl unr to umku 
lun wntrt for hia vino." 

At last, a tliDUi^it i^tnurk me, nnd I i«w farther 
through my dillivuUk>s th»n ever iiional niaii did 
through a niillElonc ; but, like a iiolitivian, I iiiinled 
not the insttrr to Jumo, keepinft my tungiic cou- 
uily nitiiin my tetlli. I Ihi^n laid the liuail, wrap|i>Ml 
up in tlie bit towt'l, in a rnmcr beliiudtlie counter; 
and, turning ray liicc round ufmia tu Juini;:*, 1 i>ut 
niy hands into my tirecchcs iwcketn, an if nothing 
Id the world had liappencd, and ventun-d back to 
the Uory of the Menuuid. I ukid him bum vlie 
'■■okcd — what kind of dn'i<a she nore—if ^hu swam 
T.ith her cunirts — what was llie color of licr linir — 
Kliere sh« would buy liie Wrtol-eshi'll ciuhIj — and 
ru on; when, jiint m he u-iis dcuiHug hia |ii|>e lo 
rpply, who should burst iijwn the slio[Mleor, like a 
■■lap' of thunder, wilh burning cat's ci'n, and a face 
111 red nil a soldier'n jacket, hut CiirpccciH'l himielf, ' 



witl) Ihe new killing-coat in his liand. — which, giT* 
ing a tremendous curse, the words of which arc not 
essendallT necessary for me to rc|icat, bi'lng an 
eldvr of bur kirk, he made play flee at me with 
such a birr, that it twisted round my neck, and 
nionly blinding me, made mo doze like a tottum. 
At the same time, to clear hi» way, and the better 
to enable him 10 take a good mark, he gave •lames 
Batter a sbovr, that made him stiilter against the 
wall, and snacked the good new fnrlhing IoIhlcco- 
pipe, that James waa taking his firt<t nhilT out of; 
cr^'iii^, at the same hlcsi-ed moment — "Hold out o' 
my road, ye long uithereil wabitter. Yi-'re a pair 
of havering idiolH ; but I'll have pennyworths out 
of both your Ma*, as I'm a pinnerV' 

What was to bo done? There was no time for 
speaking, for L'nrsi'cowl, fuanilng like a mad dog 
wilh passion, fuelled hold uf the cllwaiirl, njiirh ho 
tlourislied round \i\i heail like a higlilutidi'r'g broad 
sinord; ami, slumping about, wilh hii' Kii>cking« 

, drawn up hi;* thighii, threatened every moiiicnt to 

[ coniniU bloody munler. 

I If James Hatter never saw sen-i>:e before, he 
leamud a little of It that dny, being in a pickle of 
boilily terror uol lo be imagined by living inaa ; 
but his presence of niinil ilid not forsake him, anil 
he cowered for cafely and snccor into a far vomer, 
holding out D wvb of buckram bcfuix- lilm, — me 
crying all ilic lime, "Send (br the towivoIGcerl 
will ye ni>t t-t'inl for llic lown-otBcer ?" 

You niav talk of yuur (ieucral Uoores, and your 
Lord WelliiiRIons, as ye like; but iivvit, i^ini'e I 
was lHim,Wd I ever rve or hi'nr tell of any thing 
braver than tlie way Tommy Uodhiii bcliuved. In 
savuig both our |ireelouN lives, at that bh'»>i'il niek 
uf time, fr«>m louch-andfro jii>]innly ; for, when 
I'urKct'owl was mm|Kigiiig aboul, I'ursing and swrai'- 
iiig like a Ituivlun Iwur, liuiliiig out voilles of oaihs 
that would have tVi.Jiiid John Kmu, liirbje the 
like of us, Tom. my 'loll' hi behind him like a nihl 
cat, follow*eil by .'o-eiib Ilwrfcey, Jeny ."^tavlaiie, 
und Juck Tliorl, the lliri'e jipprcnticeo, ou ilieir 




(lATCIUSO A TARTAR. 



627 



Htocking holes, and, hannp: strong and dumpy nrnis, 
pinned back his elbows like a tiash ot lightning, 
giving the other callants time to jump on his back, 
and hold him like a vice ; while, having got time to 
draw my breath, and screw up my pluck, I ran for- 
ward like a lion, and houghed the t* hole concern — 
Tommy Bodkin, the three faithful apprentices, 
Cursccowl, and all, coming to the ground like a 
battered castle. 

It was now James Batter's turn to come up in 
line; and, though a douce man (being savage for 
the insulting way that Cursecowl had dared to use 
him), he dropped down like mad, with his knees on 
Curaecowl's breast, who was yelling, roaring, and 
grinding his buck-teeth like a mad bull, kicking 
right and spurring left with fire and fury; and, 
taking his Kilmarnock off his head, thrust it, like a 
battering ram, into Cursccowl's mouth, to hinder 
him from alarming the neighl)orhoo(l, and bringing 
the whole world about our ears. Such a straiiiash 
of tumbling, roaring, tearing, swearing, kicking, 
pushing, cutfing, roughing, and riving about the 
floor!! I thought they would not have left one 
another with a shirt on; it seemed a combat even 
to the death. Cursccowl's breath was chocked up 
within him like wind in an empty bladdtT, and when 
I got a gliskie of his face, from beneath James's 
cowl, it was growing as black as the crown of my 
hat. It feared me nnich that murder would be the 
upshot, the webs being all heeled over, both of 
broad cloth, ))uckram, cassimir, and AVolch flannel ; 
and the paper shapings and worsted rounds coih'tl 
about their throats and l)odies like iiery serp'jnts. 
At long and last, I thought it becanie me, lieiiig 
the head of the house, to soiuid a parley, and bid 
them give the savage a mouthful of fresh air, to see 
if he had any thing to say in his defence. 

Cursecowl, by tliis time, had forcible assurance 
of our al)ility to overpowtT liin>, and linding he had 
by far the worst of it, was obliged to gmw tainer, 
u.-iug the first breath he got to cry out, '* A barley, 
ye thieves, a barley! 1 tell ye, give me wind. 
There's not a man in nine of ye !" 

Finding our own strength, we saw, by this time, 
that we were masters of the field ; nevertbele>s we 
took care to niaUe gootl terms, wiien tin y were in 
our power ; nor would we allow Curse<'Owl t«> sit. 
upright, till after he had snid, lliree times over, on 
his honor as a gentleman, that ho would behave as 
became one. 

After giNing his breeches-knee§a skuft'wilh his 
loof, to dad ofT the stoure, he came, right foot 
foremost, to the counter side, while the lad«lii.'s were 
dighting their brows, and stowing away the webs 
u])on their ends round about, saying, "Maister 
Wauch, how have ye the conscience to send hamo 
such a piece o' wark as that coat to ouy decent 
man f Do ye <lare to imagine that I am a Jerusa- 
lem spider, that I coidd be cranuned, nock ami 
heeLH, into such a thing as that ? Fyo, shame — it 
would not button on yourself, man, scarecrow-look- 
ing mortal though ye be!" 

James Batter's blood was now up, and broiling 
like an old Roman's ; so he was determined t(» show 
Cursecowl that I had a frientl in court, able and 
willing to keep him at stavu's-end. " Keep a calm 
.soogh," said James Batter, interfering, "and not 
miscall the head of the house in his own shoj); or, 
to ^ay nothing of present consequences, by way of 
showing ye the road to the door, perhaps Maister 
Sneckdrawer, the penny-writer, 'II give ye a cap- 



tion paper with a broad margin, to claw your elbow 
with at your leisure, my good fellow." 

'*Pugh, pugh," cried Cursecowl, snapping bis 
finger and thumb at Jameses beak, '* I do not value 
your threatening an ill halfpenny. Come away oat 
your ways to the crown of the causeway, and Til 
box anv three of ve, over the bannv's, for half-a 
mutclikin. But od'sake, Batter, my man, nobody*g 
speaking to yon," added Cursecowl, giving a hack 
now and then, and a bit spit down on the floor : 
*'go hame, man, and get your cowl washed; I dare 
say you have pushioned me, so I have no more to 
say to the like of you. But now, Maister Wauch, 
just speaking liooly and fairly, do you not think 
black burning shame of yourself, for putting such 
an article into any decent Christian man*s hand, 
like mine?" 

" Wait a wee — wait a woe, frientl, and I'll give 
ye a lock salt to your broth," answered I, in a calm 
and cool way ; for, being a confidential elder of 
Maister Wiggle's, I kept myself free from the sin of 
getting into a passion, or fighting, except in self- 
defence, which is forbidden neither by law nor 
gospel ; and, stooping down, I took up the towel 
from the corner, and, spreading it upon the counter, 
bade him look, and see if he knew an atdd ac- 
(juaintance ! 

Cursecowl, to be such a dragoon, had some ra- 
tional points in his character; so, seeing that he 
lent hear to me with a smirk on his rough red face, 
I went on : '* Take my advice as a friend, and make 
the best of your way home, killing-eoat and all; 
for the most perfect will sometimes fall into an in- 
nocent mistake, and, at any rate, it cannot be 
helped now. But if ye show any symptom of ob- 
strapulosiiv, I'll fiml mvself untler the necessitv of 
publishing you abroatl to the world for what you 
are, and show about that he id in the towel for a 
won«ler to broad Scotland, in a manner that will 
make customers flee from vour booth, as if it was 
infected with th(^ sevt-n plafrues of E; vpt.'* 

At sight of the goat's-liead, Cui"secowl c1ap]>ed 
his hanil on his thigh two or three thnes, and could 
scarcely muster good mannei-s enough to keep him 
from bursting out a laughing. 

'*Ye seem to have found a fiddle, friend," said I; 
"but give me leave to tell you, that ye'll may be 
lind it liker a lianging-rnateh than a nm.-lcal matter. 
Are vou not aware il.at I could hand vou over to 
the sheriff', on two special indictments: in the first' 
place,rfor an action of assault and batterfication, in 
cutting mo, an elder of our kirk, with a sticked 
killinjr-coat, in my ow n shop ; and, in the .second 
[)lae4», as a swindler, iniposing on his Majesty's loyal 
subjects, taking the coin of the realm on false pre- 
tences, and palming off goat's flesh u])on Christians, 
as if they were perfect i)agans." 

Heathen though Cui'secowl was, this oration 
alarmed him in a jiffy, soon show ing him, in a couple 
of hurries, ihat it was nece-^sarv for him to be our 
humble servant: so he said, still keej)ing the smirk 
on his face, "Kay, kay, it's not worth making a 
noise about, after all. Gie mo the jacket, Mansie, 
my num, and if. *I1 maybe serve my nephew, young 
Killim, who is as Uugit in the waisto as a wasp. 
Let us take a shak«' of your paw over the counter, 
and be friends. Bve-LMues should be live-iranes." 

Never let it be saiil that Mansie Wauch, though 
one of the King's volunteers, ever thrust a.^i<le llie 
oliv(? braneh of peace; so, ill-'ised tliough I had 
been, to .say nothin,':; of Janies Batter, who had got 



CATCQIMQ A TABTAB. 



bla pipe Hmubed to cruneheB, and one of the ejea 
of Yua specMcleB knocked out, I gate him my fim 
firanklv. 

James Batter's birfle had been so fiercely put up, 
and no nondcr, that it was not so vasilj sleeked 
down ; BO, for a while, be looked uuco glum, till 
Cursecowl insisted that our meeting should not be 
a dry one ; nor would he hcnr a siagle word on me 
and James Batter not accepting biajreat of a mutch- 
kin of Kilbagie. 

I did not think James would hare beeo so doure 
and refractory, — funking and fiingin); like old Jero- 
boam t hut at last, with the pemiadion of the treat, 
be came to, and, sleeking down his front hair, we 
alt three took a step down to the far end of the 
close, at the back street, vbere widow Tliompeon 
kept the sigD of "Tlie Tankard and the Tappit Uto," 
Cursecow], when we got ourselves seated, ordi^ring 
in tbe spirits with a loud rap on the tatile with bia 
knuckle?, and a whistle on tbe landlady through 
his fore-teeth, that made the roof ring. A bottle 
of beer was also brought ; so, afler drinking one 
snotbcr'a healths round, with a tasting out of the 
dram-gloss, Cursecowl swashed the reat of tbe raw 
creature into the tankard, saying, — "Now take 
your will o't; there's drink fit for a kmg; that's 
real ' pap-in.' " 

lie was an awful body, Cursecowl, and had a 
power of queer stories, wbich, weil-a-wat, did not 
lose in the telling. James Batter, beginning to 
brighten up, bodged and Icuch like a niiie-year-otd : 
and 1 freely confess, for another, that I was mi di- 
Tertcd, that, I dare say, had it not been for his 
fearsome oaths, which made out very hair stand on 
end, and were enough to open the Btonc-wall. we 
would have both sate from tliat lime to ttiis. 

We got the whole story of the Witlie-Goat, out 
•nd out, it seeming to l>e, with Cursecowl, a prime 
matter of dirertion, especially that part of it relat- 
ing tu the head, by which he had won a crown-piece 
from Drocon Pnunch, who wagered that the wife 
and me would eat it, without ever finding out onr 
mtHtakc. Bui, ah ho, ladl 

The long and the short of the matter wan thin. 
The Witlic-lioat had, for eiv'ii<^i-'n year, Itelonged 
to a dragoon marching regiruenl, and, in its better 
da^s, had seen a power of Kcrrice abroad; till, 
tKing now old and infirm, it had lalien off one of 
tbe boggagc-eartii, and got its leg lirokcu on the 
road to i'iershell, whcra it was sold to Cursecowl, 
by a corporal, for half-a-croun and a drum, T4ic 
four quarters be had managed to lUill for mutton, 
like lightning — thlR one buying a jigco'i that one a 
back-ribs, and soon. However, be had to weather 
a gay brisk gale, in making his point good. One 
woman remarked, that it had an unearthly, rtmk 
smell; to which he raid, ''So, no — ye do not ken 
your blessings, friend, — that's the smetl of venison, 
for the beast was brought up along with the deers 
In the Duke's parka." And to another wife, thai, 
after siuell — smelling at it, though it was a wee 
humphed. he replied, "Fullh, that's all the thanks 
folks gets for Idling their sheep crop heather among 
the Cheviot IlilLi ;" and such like lie.". But as for 
the head, that hud been the donru buainc^a. Sx 
times had It hcen sold and away, and six times had 
it licen brought back nj:ain. One liairn said, tlutt 
her " nioihiT di<1 na like a slieej/s head with homn 
like Ihe.-^i', and wnuti'd it changed for another one," 
A second one said, that " it hud tup's cen, and her 
fatbcr liked weather mutton." A third customer 



found mortal fault with the colors, which, she Mid, 
"were not canny, or in the course of nature." 
What the fourth one said, and tbe fifth one took 
leave to observe, I have stupidly forgotten, though, 
I am sure, I heard both ; but I mind one remarked, 
quite off-hand, as she sought back her money, that, 
"unless sheep could do without beards, like lh«ir 
neighbors, she would keep the pot boiling with a 
]Uece beef, io the mean lime." Alter all this, would 
•ny mortal man believe. Deacon Paunch, the greasv 
Daniel Lambert that he is, had taken the wager, as 
I before took opportunity to rcmnrk, that ourfamilv 
would swallow the bajt F But, oh ha, he was off his 
eggs there. 

James and me were so tickled with Cur^ecowl's 
wild, outrageous, off-hand, humorsoine way of tell- 
ing his crack, that, though sore wiih the neighcring. 
none of the two of us ever thought of rising ; Curse- 
cowl chapping in first one atoup, and then anotlicr, 
and birlirig the tankard round the toble. as if we 
had been drinking dub-water. 1 dare say I would 
never have got away, had I not eUjiped out behind 
Lucky Thompson's back — for she was a broad fat 
body, with a round-cared nmlch, and a full-plailcd 
check "apron — when bIio was drawing the fiilh 
Iwtlle of small beer, with her corkscrew between 
ber knees; Cureecoul lecturing away at tlie divid- 
ual moment, like a Glasgow professor, to James 
Batter, whose eeii wore gathering straws, on a 
pliskie be hud once, in the course of trade, played 
on a conceited body of a French eick-nurse, by sell- 
ing her a lump of fat pork to nuthc hcef-t>'a of to 
her mistress, who was dwining in the blue Berl- 
zebubs, 

Olione. and woes me, for old Father Adnin and 
Ihe fall of man t I'uor, sober, good, honest JamoK 
Batter uus not, by a, thousand miles, a uialch for 
such company. Ev^-ry thing. hoKcver, bus iis 




THE ABB TUKNED GENTLEMAN. 



_^ .__ .... I »le*pcd in Widow Thompson's , 

tovn-Ulk was concerning tbe mltfortunate James I ret— on a han^l-barroT, borrowed from Kai 
Batter, who had becD earned home, lotallj Inea- j Wig^e'a aervant-lass, Jenny Jessamine. 



THE ASS TOBNED OENTLEHAN. 




In the year 17—, before the light 
of Uterature and scieocc hud made 
mch progresa among the peasantry 
of tbia tonnlTy — when Our less en- 
Ucbtened forefathers ascribed i^ very 
pnenomenon of nature, which Ihey 
<Ud not underatand, to Bonie super- 
natnral aeenuy, either benevolent 
ormalGvoleiit, aa the case might be; 
and an btowbI of dialielief in the 
eiiiU-nee of wilcheralt, 
ey, the black art, hobgobtina, foiries, 
broviii«s, etc., would hare subjceted a person to 
more annoyance and persecution, than an open 
STOwal of infidelity would do at present — three 
yonng men of family set out from Edinburgh, on a 
pleasure excureian into the country, Afler visiting 
Ijnlithgow, Falkirk, Stirling, and Glasgow, Ihey 
took up their quarters at the head iim in Uldcalder, 
on their way back to Auld Reekie. Finding a. set 
of youthful revellers there to their mind, thuy spent 
MTeril daya and nights in drinking and catouaing, 
never dreaming of the heavy bill they were run- 
ninK up with the "kind landlady." The truth 
fluked upon them at last ; and iliey discovered, 
when it was too late, that they had not wherewithal 
to clear their heavy score. A coueultation was 
held by the trio, and many plana for getting rid of 
their disagreeable situation were proposed and re- 
jected. At last, one of them, more fertile in cipe- 
ifonta than tbe other two, hit upon the following 
method, which good fortune aeemed to favor, of eX' 
tricating both himBeif and his brethren : — 

"Don't you see yon cadger's aaa standing at the 
door over the way?" said he. 

" Yes : but what of that T" 

"Come along with me — looee the ass — unburden 
him of his creels — disengage him from his sunks 
and branks — put ne in his plac e e quip me with 
bia hameaa — hang the creeli likewise upon me — lie 
me to the door with his own bailer — get another 
for bim — lead him away to the next town — you will 
41 



Tthe 






The plan was instantly put in practice ; the youth 
was BOon accoutred in Uic aia's furniture, and away 
went the other two to sell the aSS. 

In the mean time, out comes the honest cadger 
from the house, where he had been making a con- 
tract with the guidwlfe for eggs; but the moment 
he bchuld, aa he supposed, his ass tranaformed into 
a fine gentleman, he held up his hands in the ut- 
most wonder, ciclaiming at the same time, "Quid 
hae a care o' us I wliat means a' this o't ? Speak, 
in the name o' Gude, an' tell me nhst ye are — are 
je a Q earthly creature, or the auld thief himselT 

"Alas!" responded the youth, putting on a sad 
countenance, " hae ye forgotten your aiu aas ? Do 
ye no ken me now * — me ! that boa served you sae 
lang and sae faithfu' ; thai has trudged and toiled 
through wat anil through dry, mid cnuld and hun- 
g,!r; hooted at by blackguard callante — lashed by 
youreel' — an' yet ye dinna ken me ! Waea me, 
that ever I becam' your ass I that over I should, by 
my ain disobedience, hae cast out wi' my father, 
an' provoked him to turn me into a stupid erealure 

"Sic as I now see ye! — instead o' an aaa, I now 
see a hraw young gentleman." 

"A braw young gentleman! — Oude be praised 
that my lather bos at last been pleased to restore me 



630 



THE BGEHOOL FOB 8CAMP8. 



to my ain ibape, and that I can now see wi* the 
een, an* speak wi* the tongue o* a man I** 

*' But wha are ye, my braw lad, and wha is your 
&therf*» 

** Oh, did you never hear o* Maister James San- 
dilands, the third son o' the Earl o* Torpichen f ** 

** Heard o* himl ay, an* kent him too, when he 
was a bairn, but he was sent awa* abroad when he 
was young, an* I ne*er heard tell o' him sin* syne.** 

*'Wecl, Fm that same Maister James; and ye 
maun ken that my father learned the black art at 
the college, an* that I happened to anger him by 
makln* love to a fine young leddy, against his will, 
an* that, in short, when he faund out that I was 
in loTe wi* her, he turned me into an ass for my 
disobedience.** 

** Weel, weel, my man, since that is the case, gae 
awa' hame, an* grce wi* your father ; tak' my bless- 
ing wi you, an* I will e*en try to get anitber ass, 
whether your father send me as muckle siller as buy 
anithcr ane or no; Cure ye weel, an* my blessing 
gang wi* you.** 



Away went the youth, released from his bondage, 
and soon meeting with his comrades, related, to 
their joint gratification, his strange adventure with 
the honest cadger. Suffice it to say, that the asB 
was sold, the bill paid, and the youths got safely 
back to Edinburgh. 

So soon as they got matters arranged, they sent 
a sum to the worthy cadger, sufficient to purchase 
three asses. On receiving the money, he lost no 
time in looking out for another ass, and as next 
week was " Calder fair,** he repaired thither with 
the full intention of making a purchase. He waa 
not long in the fair, looking about for an animal to 
suit his purpose, when, behold ! he saw with new 
wonder and astonishment, his own identical old ass I 
The dumb brute knew him also, and made signs of 
recognition in the best manner he could. The 
honest cadger could not contain himself, the tears 
gushed from his eyes, he looked wistfully in the 
creaturc*s face, and anxiously cried out, *^ Gude 
have a care o* us ! hae you and your father cuisten 
out again ?** 



■•»• 



THE SCHOOL FOR SCAMPS. 

(^ "jJtsnbarb •& Comebu/' in JHre ^.) §tbtcateb to % ftgitimUis. 



BT AMOUS B. BEACH. 



DRAMATIS PEBSGNJS. 



LOBD BxUf OUT. 

Lawtem Ybvoil 
Touiro Ck>Pi7B. 
HoiMS Cowslip. 

LaDT BXLMOITT. 

Oopua 



8im FuDxmiOK Kalook. 
Old Oopua 
Fkank Fkikkdlt. 
Jebbt Cowblip (his ton.) 
Matilda Bxlmoxt. 
dobcab cowbup. 



ACT I. 

80BNX. I.— ^ Boom in Lord BelmofWt Hou9e, 

Enter Lord Belmont. 




LoBD Belmoot. Why did I do it? Why did I 
forge the deeds which made me the lord of all I see 
around me 1 Why did I cause my sister*s child to 
be kidnapped, and sent to sea? Oh, Remorse I Oh, 
Despair! How the throbbing of a guilty brow 
shakes the coronet which gUda it. Hal who*8 
there ? My evil genius I 



Enter Lawyer Venom. 

Lawtkr Venom. How is your Lordship? Plot- 
ting mischief? Ha! ha! ha! Nothing like it I 
hate all the world ; don't you? Here is the instru- 
ment for turning the Cowslips out of their cottage — 
it only wants your signature. [ Gives paper. 

Lord Belmont. Alas! must I affix it? (Aside.) 
Crime, crime, how thou forcest us on from one 
villany to another. [if« writes. 

Scene closes. 

Scene II. — A Street in the Village. 

Enter Old Oopus and Young Oopus. 

Old Gopus. Stick up, ray boy ; stick up to Ifisa 
Belmont. You are the fellow for her. Gad I when 
I was your age — 

Young Gopds. Oh! You old heathen! 60 
along. But do vou think she'd have nie, dad ? 

Old Gopus. Think. D , I know it. She'd 

jump at you like a cat-a-mountain. Phew I 

Young Gopus. Fm in such spirits. {Sings) Fal 
de ral de ral de la. 

[Exeunt both^ dancing and singing. 

Scene III.— .^ Boom in Lord Belmont's House. 
Enter Lady Belmont and Miss Belmont. 

Lady Belmont. Pr*ythce, child, talk no more. 
The blood of the Belmonts — 

Miss Belmont. Can ncyer be degraded by an 
alliance in which love consecrates the heart, and 
honor seals the hands. 

Ladt Belmont. Sir Frederick — 

Miss Belmont. Again that odious name. 

Enter Sir Frederick unperceived eU back. 
Sib Fredebice {aside). Ha ! Confusion I 

Lady Belmont. While that Frank Friendly 

Miss Belmoht. Frank IMendly! HeaTenly 
sound I 



THB SCHOOL FOB eOAKFS. 



SnUr Pnoih JMatJty, tmptretitai, al bade. 

Frahs (lUKfa). H» ] BIcMiogi on ber I 

Ladt BuiioRT. I tell 70U joa ihall b« the mlfe 
of— 

FtiettSg tmd MalUoH earning fortMrd, and botk 
^taking togeUur — 

Fmindlt u(d Ualison. Of me. 

TTu Am Ladit* faint in each othe^t arm*, mUb 
tAi Riwdi gat» ftiriouttg <m tack otM*r ottr tJum, 




Bcrm I. Old CowlipU Cotiagt. 
Old CewMp. Jtrty Ctnttlip. Dortat. 



J dotuit break eterj bo*ii in hi* ugl; body loikel 

Old Cowslip. Uj iod. Itj son. Lenro p*- 
tien«e from jour aged an. 

Enter Lamytr Kenom and Baili^ 

Trov. Turn 'era oat. Turn 'em out. I liale 
•ntheworid. B>I b>f bal 

Jebkt {ktpt baek by Dorem and Otd CoiMlip). 
Leat me get at un, I tay. 

Enter Pntndly. 

FaiiMDLT. A.diatre8wd bmilyl Hal Hay tbe 
treo of beiMTolence be ever watered by the tears 
of gratitude. {7\> Iht Bailifft). Sharks, take your 
prey. {Flingt domparu, and Exit. 

Old Cowuip. Hay an old man's blessing — 

SoKHB IL Lcri Sebnmtet Hetut. 
Enter Lord Sdmont and Sir Frtderidc. 
LoKD Brludht. Sir Frederick, ibe shall marry 
you. I pledge the word of a Britiab nobleman. 
Enter Venoih, 
VmroM. m manage it. 1 shall make Kin Bel- 
mont bdieie that Friendly is in love with Dorcas, 
and that that was the reason for hit late romaniic 
generority. Hal ha! ha! I hate alt the worid. 

Bu Fbidirice. Excellent. Come along and 
concoct the plot. [Sauni Sir FMerick and Venom. 
Lord BiLHOn (linUng on a ehair). VilUin! 
*Ulafail Tillainl 



ACTUL 

Lord Btlmonft Garden.— Enter FHen^y and Mm 

Bilmont, talking. 

Fkiibdlt. It was HO. I know not my parent*— ■ 
I never did. Uy love for you 1« my only aolace — 
my only comfort. 

MiBB BtLMOKT. Be ttill, bunting heartl Ob, 
Frank, do you really lore me f 

PaiiKDLT. And can then Hat Belmont doubt 
the sincerity of my doolionT 

Hiss Belmont. KeTer. For tbe heart which 
worships at the ahiine Ii hallowed by tbe altar. 

Bcliri IL Tits VUlagt.— Enter Jerry Orn^ip. 
JiRBT. Dang'd if I beaut as glad as our nt 
cow in a field of clover, loike. 

Enter VenoBt. 
Tlsou. Know that Friendly, in the guise of bo> 
nerolenco, seeks to seduce your sister. Ha ! ha 1 ha ! 
[E^ Venom. 
JiaRT. Seduce! Sister Dorcas I It beaut possi- 
ble. But Uwyer Venom looked as If he meant It 
loike, I dunna know what 10 think. I'm hke our 
donkey Jack between two bundles of bay. 
Enter Sir Frederiek. 
Sir Fridihicr. Friendly wlahet to seduce your 
sister. I am your friend. Take this pistol— (^Mt 
f piste/)— be is in the neat field. Adieu, Beware. 
[Exit Sir FraUriek. 
JiRRT. I'm all over woooder loike — seduce sister 
Dorcas — Noa, noa. There's snmmut here will i>re- 
Tent it. \Btrikit hit waittcoat and exit. 

SciMR IIL A lUld.— Enter Friendly and Doreo*. 
FHiE?rr>LT. Kay, nsy — open your heart to mo 
to B friend. You love Sir Frederick. 
UoBCis (toiiin^). Alas! fesi 

Enter Jerry al badi. 
Jkkri (atidt). In tears 1 blood and 'ounds I 
FaiEMnLT. Come — come — let me dry those ejta. 





jERar (ruthing fvntard and jmtentiitg pietal.) 

Never ! The benefactor of the feyther may yet be 
the seducer of tbe sister, Oroup. 



AOTIT, 

SCRNi I. Zord Stlmoni't Hatttt. 

Enter Mitt Belmont and Sir Frederiek. 

Hiu Belhont. Uy brain is bursting. It cannot 

bel 

Sir FRRDtRlci. It Is. [EtU Sir /Vadmet. 
XisB Brlvort. why did I loie him — why do I 
love him? But no, Qi^-J moil.teat ,him IVom my 
heart for ever. 



THE SCHOOL It>B eOAXPS. 



Snttr .FHenJlg. 
FuiirDi.T. Hj deareit Uatild*^ 




Kiw BiMiONT. VnWn — who would be^le one 
wonum of ber bcut white be robbed uiolher of 
her honor. [Exit Mitt Btlnwnl. 

FumDLT. Vm petrified. 

SiUer Jerry. 

Jbht. And jau c&U yonnelf ■ folne geutlemui 
loikaf What tltof je have gotten > good coat oo 
jvuT back — ye catiDot Kroika your heart and say 
lt> an ri^l here. [Btrika Au miitlccat and EiiU. 

Fbuhdlt. What means Ihiif 

£tiUr Toutiff Oopm. 



Hal there aunds my gitcceBsAd rival (.i4/ouiJ). 
Sir, if jou are not a coward follow me. 

[£nf Young Oopat. 

Frkudlt. Tm goaded to madneBO — have after 

Tou. \Exil fMoieing. 

Enter Old Oopat and Jfrt. Ooput. 
Old Gopca. My >oa — my boy! 




[7!1« report* 0/ Im pittoU an heard 
Mr. and Mr*. Ooput fall into each oAer't armt. 
Olid the Seine data. 

SciSB n. Lord BelmonCt Library. 

ErUer Lord BdniotU and Venom. 

Tehox. Uy Lord, It mnat be. Sr Frederick 

moat marry UW BelinoDt. I hare my reasons for 

it. If you don't presa the marHage, I denounce yon 

to-day, and will aee yon dragged to gaol to-morrow. 

Ha! ha) hat {ErU Venoni. 

LoBD BiLKOKT. Earth open and awallow me I 

Enter Miu Belniont. 



Lou> Biuioirr. Hy child, I cannot. I hare 
pledged my word. To^norrow yoa will bs Lady 




SciKi I. A Boom in Lord BebmmCt Bourn. 

Enter Miu Stlnuml and Dorcat, 
HlBS BiLUONT. You say bo. 

DuKCAS. Ladj, yea, ■ thouaond time! yeat 
Hiss Belhont. Ob, Friendly, bow hare t wrong- 
ed ihce! t^celc him, Dorcas — bring him hither. 
(Exit Dortat). AlasI whtn suspicion ranklea in 
the heart, love, instead of a bealing balm, becomes 
a subtle poison. [Exit. 

Enter Sir Frederick and Venom. 
BiE Fkicehcce. An hour after Hiss Belmont be- 
comes Lady lUliBon, the money ehalt be youra) 
Vnoii. Agreed! Ha! bal ha! 

Enter Lord Belmont and Lady Belmont. 
LoBoBujioin. la all prepared f 




LiDT BnxoNT. Where ii the bride f 
Miaa BiLHONT {appearii^ at right). Here. 
Vemoh. And the bridegroom. I take it ia— 
FuEiiDLT (appearing atu/t). Herel 
All. Ha 1 
Lord BiLHOr 



WhatB 



this intnudoD T 
chastise bis inao- 

FiincLY. Uiaerahle trickster I J know alL 
Tour compact with Venom amongst the rest. 
Silt Fkcdhuck. Hal betiayedl 



THE LAMB FIO. 



ViiiO]i. Thij la trifling. Lord Belmont, I oil 
upon jou to ckoh thia miriiage (o proceed— dM — 

LoBD BiLHOicT. I careaot. I am wmtj of Ufo 1 
M; dsugbter ihiU Dot marry Sir Frederick. 

VtxOH. Then jour blood be on jour own head. 
1 accuse joa of haviag murdered jour natet'a aon. 

Ali. Hat 

Vemoh. If be be not dead produce him. He 
will be known b; a mole on bia left elbow. I hare 
myself had an affldarit taken of iu eiitteoce. 

LoBD Bujiorr. Alas I 




Hay the DerU take 



EtUtT Young Oopta. 

YocNO GorrB. Hi. Venam, ;our Ikouie and tU 
your properly ia burnt. 

Enler Mrt. Ooput. 

Has. Oopcs. All — Ur. Venom — except rour 
wife I [VtTUMl tlaggert oul. 

"— Fbedibici. I feel I hare turned vi" " 



of a 



udden. Dorcas Cowslip, w 



1 you inarTT me t 
[7%eg embraee. 



JiRRT. Dang it — rm a going clean mad wi' joy 
loite — wholl marry IT 

Enlir AbigaU. 
Abioail. He I [7^ embraa. 




Ha t (ifripi of hit tleevt) a mole — 

Enltr Old Coittlip, Jerry, and Dorcat. 

Old CowBLir. I know i( — I feel il — I remember Lobb Belhokt. Thus, my cliildren and friends, 

him well. Hany a time have I dundled him on my wo sec how, on tlie one hand, rErlue U rewarded, 

knee : it is — it is the true Lord Belmont t and haw, on the other, ticc is punished — liow the 

Vi.-foii. Confumool watering pot of fertility nourishes the useful tree. 

Lord Bilhont. Thanks be to heaven. Kneel, and the hatchet of dcstraction clears away the 

kneel my children, and receive ray blessing. ooiious shrub. 

[Fritn^y and Mia SilmotU kmtl. cubtiin iallS. 



Vu. H'Csit was slnpUelty Itself, and her heart 
orerflvwed with the warmest affectioDs of human 
nature. Mr. Josiah Ftowerdew, of Manchester, 
bad occasion to riut Edinburgh, that free-stone Tii- 
lue irhich Scotsmen call a metropolis, situated a 
mile or two from Leith, a sea-port town on the 
river Forth. He had a letter of introduction to 
the BeT. Dr. and Hrs. VCrie, and was receiTed by 
them with all the fVank and courteous kindneM of 
tbeir disposition. 

One Sunday, after baring attended divine service 
In the Doctor's church, he returned with his bospl- 
table friends to their residence. A nice, tiot, tssty, 
but frugal dinner, was quickly pluced upon the 
table. 

"Good folk hunger after the word," observed 
the old lady, putting a haddock of fourteen inches 
long, with an ocean of ovsters and butler, on 
JosUb's |date ; and tak' a willy waught of that Ha- 
ll^ — it's gusty and pricsomc ; our puidninn he was 
dry in the pulpit, and ve hse as guide right to he 
dry out of it—hem 1 ticuse mc. Doctor — Lord, 
sir, ye are filing your hand?." 

Mr. Josiah was a devoted admirer of the fair sex, 
and could not, even when an aged snd wrinkled 
fkce met his gaze, fail to remember, tliat once the 
same cheek was dyed with the hue of the rose, and 
the eyes cast a luatre which would have maddened 



an anchorite. He therefore, out of devotion to 

what was past, ate and drank as directed, of what 
vas present. After having in this fashion labored 
with a vigor and industry which would hare done 
credit to an Irish laborer deepening the Thames, or 
a student of Stinkomalee ettling at comprehending 
the last number of the Edinburgh Kevlew, he was 
constrained, from absolute want of local capacity, 
to give over — " to cease labor, to dig and to delve," 
in a horrid brute, of the bird species, which must 
have hern cousin-german to the penguins of the 
Falkland Island. 

"The 'titber leg, Hr. Josiah Powderjew?" said 
the Doctor. "The 'tither leg. Doctor! Uay I 
perish if one joint of the whole carcase has moved 
the flutter of a gnat's wing," answered Josiah. " Ye 
are over genly with the beast, Ur. Flowerdew," ob- 
served the old Udj. "Doctor, mark ye that, and 
abuse nae man's gude name. I^ve it, sir — Rive it." 
"It is teugh — it is, ofa verity," said the Doctor, as 
his eyo-tooth snapped in a struggle wilb a tendon 
which would have held his Majesty's yacht in a 
hurricane. "And toothsome forbye," observed 
Sin. U'Crie ; " but it's wrang to sport wi' a human 
creature's distresses. Na, no, Ur. Josiah, ye need- 
na look sae wae like. TosscssiDn, nae doubt, is 
nine points of the law ; but the rightful owner of 
that yellow stump is lang syiie gather«d t« his foi^ 



THS LAKE PIO. 



634 

6«ws. Of a troth. It vould ba ta ivth' moioeat 
gin be cam to Tindicite hii tin." 

Mr. Flowerdew thaddered, and for reuoiu that 
can rerj veil bs andenlood, agreed moat heartilj 
with his hiwteBB. " Bat u I'm in the laod of the 
liTiug 1" eontinued Mrs. H'Crle, " our tanpj kas bas 
a'thegpther negleeted the 8j>UAbiib. There It Btasda, 
hi the pride of its beautj, in the lumrj. Surelj 
r™ been carried mysell. Doctor, whenever you 
ne bj the hour and flxe minntes, I'm clean done 
for onf mair use that day — I can mind naething." 
"Neitber can I, Ura. If'Crie," obserred Hr. Joalah, 
innocently. "It's a bletuns for you, Ur. Joeiah," 
answered the old lady ; "if I had minded a' I've 
beard, I would by this time hare been demented." 
" Bight, my dear," replied the Doctor, " the female 
b the weaker Tcuel— a cracked pitcher, as a man 
may taj, and in no way fit to be the repository of 
the wondeiB of airt and scieQce." "And jet," re- 
torted Mrs. U'Crie, aomewhat piqued at the obser- 
Tation, " there are lome Kirts, of tbe wbilk ye are 
as ignorant aa a dead dog — saiing the compairi- 
ihon." " And in what, may I be permitted to aik ?" 
answered tbe liootor, with mtieh tolemnliy; "in 
what T Te see, Ur. Lonrhew," be added, " I in nae- 
wise eschew the inquiry." "Na, tben, gudeman," 
exalslmed the old lady exnltin^y, " I had jou now 
on the hip — that is— ^God save ui — excuse the ei- 
presrion, Mr. Jodah; we are plun folk." "Madam," 
answered Hr.Flowenlew, "make no apology. "The 
racoUcctions of youth are delightful. I have many 
warm remembninces of the kind. But pray, madam, 
don't let OS lose the adrantage ofknowing in what 
matter of lore you transcend the Doctor. Fiaj be bo 
condescending." " Nay, kind rir," said the old tady, 
"it's a Joke of my own; bnt, as it is connected 



lady, " I maun be the expounder of the text myseL 
So ye see, Hr. Flowerdew"— 

But before the secret is disclosed, we most in- 
form our readers that there is a cerUln jog or tijp- 
kin of earthenware, lued in rarious culinary and de- 
tergent purposes in Scotland, called a "pig," and 
which, from the tenacious kind of e^rth (laam or 
loam} of which it is composed, goes by the diatinctiTO 
name of a "lame pigi" a atenni of which, fifty 
years ago, to bsTe been Ignorant, would hare been 
a confesuon of stultification aa great M if you 
thought that the Red Sea was rubicund. , 

" So, air," continued Mrs. M'CHe, "when I want 
to make a sytlabal) — It's grand for ■ cold, or B Idt- 
tling in the throat" — 

" Madam I"— 

"Yes, it's naa doubt of healing Tirtaes,"obserred 
the Doctor, — "medicinal in all matters, thoracical, 
if I may use the expreuion ; and Ur. Towerflew, it 
has the adTantaEe of being divertire and jocnnd in 
the iWlUow. Sir, I bold ic utter execration jodt 
sennas and globars ; the latter are, of a certy, an 
abomlDatiou before the Lord. I ance had a dose 
thereof — gin I live to the age of Hethosatem, the 
day will be to me like yestreen : Ibej look a good 
forty minutes to chow, my iui<ide was cunnurring 
like daoK in a dooket. It was most special tmasT- 
ory, Mr. Sourspew." 

" So," continued the old lady, after an impatient 
pause, " 1 send to the market, and our Bell brings 
me a lame pig." 

" But why a lame pig F" 

"Why a lame pip, air T— what way noT Sr, 
naclliing but a lame pig will answer tbe purpOM." 

" I cry your mercy, good Udj." 

" So oar Bell brings me m lame pig. I aye tell 




with that Tery syDsbub that our lass has set before 
you, I shall ask tbe Doctor agun. Ye that ken the 
three wonnerful things in the warld, yea, the four 
wonnerful things, and strange, how msb ye 
the syllabub T" "I tak tbe lase."—" Whisht, Doc- 
tor i gin ya begin that gate," inteirupted tlie old 



our laM (she has been wi' ns (hese thirteen yeaia 
come Martinmas; she is tbe 0* of her grandfatlier, 
as the Doctor says, when be is facetious,) to [dck 
me out a clean ane." 



TBB LAMB PJO. 



635 



«i 



Yerj right," eaid Mr. Jofliah. *'But Fm afntid 
you would have but little choice in that respect.*' 

** Ye are wrang, Mr. Cowereew,** aaid the Doctor, 
*' the J are aye weel washed outside and in." 

** Oh, Doctor, no joking ; this is a serious mat- 
ter." 

** Na ; there^s no joking," obserred the old lady. 
" They are weel scraped wi* a heather ringe." 

*'A what, madam!" 

*^ A nievefu* o' heather ; wi* the whilk you get 
eyen to the most extreme comer of the concern." 

*^ No doubt, madam, if you are permitted " — 

'* Permitted, Mr. Josiah t and gin I buy a pig, 
may I no do what I chuse wi* it f or wi* ony ithcr 
face of clay for which I gave ready culnzie f Ye 
haye, sir, great character in England for cleanli- 
ness, and I am sure that Mrs. Flowerdew never has 
a pig in her aught for she washes it inside and out, 
as clean as the driven snaw." 

** Nay in that," said Mr. Flowerdew, " I can as- 
sure you, you are mistaken. Before the pigs reach 
us — ^ 

**Wee1, weel; ither folk do it, and that is the 
same thing. So, when Bell comes hame, I says, 
hand me down the can with the virgin honey, 
and I drap twa dessert spoonfuls into the pig's 
mouth'' — 

** Into its mouth, madam ?" 

** Ay, to be sure, sir ; where would you have it 
put ? — a pig's mouth was nae gien to it for naething 
—or jelly will do as weeU Na, Fve tried your large 
bergamot preserved pear ; but whiles the pig's neck 
is no that wide to admit of a pear of size, and it's 
fEishious squeezing it in." 

** No doubt, madam, and dangerous." 

'*Yes, gin the neck break; but when ye mell 
and meddle wi* pigs, ye maun mind ye deal wi' slip* 
pery gear." 

** Very true, madam." 

** Weel, then, our loss carries the pig to the cow, 
and there she gently milks a pint and a half of 
warm milk in upon the henny or jelly, or pear, as it 
may be." 

" Into the pig, madam I" 

** Ay, into the mouth o't. Surely that's nae kittle 
matter ?" 

** Now, madam, as I am an ordinary sinner, that 
is an operation that would puzzle aU Lancashire. 
Into its mouth 1" 

" Weel, I'm astonished at you, sir : is there ony 
mystery or sorcery in Bell hauding a pig wi* the 
tae hands, and milking a cow with the tither f " 

**I really, madam, in my innocence of heart, 
thought that the pig might have run — ^" 

** Run o*er f Nae doubt f so wud it gin ye filled 
it o'er fu*. So hame comes the pig" — 

** Of itself, madam I" 

** Sir 1 Lord, sir, you speak as if the pig could 
walk!" 

** I beg yoq a thousand pardons, madam ; I truly 
forgot the milk and jelly. It would be extraordi- 
nary if it could." 

"Very, sir. So the lass brings me my lame pig." 

"Ah, that's another reason. Well, may I be 
drawn to a thread if I could divine why you pre- 
ferred a lame pig !" 

" Ye needna gang to Rome to learn that ; a lame 
pig is aye fendiest. So I begin to steer and steer 
the milk and jelly." 

" Steer and steer, madam !" 

** Ay — mix a' weel up thegether." 



"And may I entreat to know with what you 
stir it?" 

" Wi' a spoon, to be sure ; ye wadna hae me to 
do it wi* my fingers f" 

"God forbi<^ madam! I would use, if heaven 
ever employed me in the manner you mention, a 
spoon with a most respectably long handle." 

" It*s better of length, certainly, sir. Naething 
can escape you, then ! Weel, the next thing we 
do is this, to gently put the pig afore the £e to 
simmer.** 

"To simmer!" 

" Yes, sir, and there stand or it reeks again. But 
you must not let it get o'er het : it would bum the 
milk.*' 
, " And the pig too, madam." 

" Oh ! that's naething. We dinna fash onrselvefl 
wi' the pig. What were they made for?" 

" Why, truly, madam, I thought, until this day, 
that I knew something of their history ; but I find 
I have been wofully ignorant.** 

"We canna reach perfection at ance, as oar 
gudeman says (wha, by-the-bye, is and has been 
this half hour, as sound as a top). And so, after 
the pig has simmered and simmered, ye in wi' the 
spoon again.** 

" Again, madam !'* 

" Ay, sir ; ye wadna hae it all in a mess at the 
bottom ?*• 

" Far from it, madam ; as far as possible.** 

" So ye maun gie anither stir or twa, until it 
sings." 

"Sings, madam? And does the pig make no 
other noise during all this operation ? 

" Scarce any other, gin it's a good pig ; but all de- 
pends on that. I've seen a lame pig, that afore the 
heat had touched its sides a matter of five minutes, 
would have gane off in a crack." 

" I don't wonder at that in the least, madam." 

" You would wonder, if your English pigs had 
half the value of the Scotch." 

" Possibly, madam." 

"Of a verity," continued Mrs. M*Crie, "there 
was a pig played me ance a maist mischancy trick. 
Ye see, I expected a pairty of our presbytery to 
denner, and I had sent our Bell out for the maist 
capacious pig she could grip ; and I had poured in 
the quantum tuff^ as the mediciners say, of het milk 
on tne gooseberries (I was making a posset), and a* 
went weel ; but when I thought it was done to a 
hair, out lap a het aizle ; our Bell (the hizzy !) 
sprang to the tae side ; the pig gaed the tither — a 
was ruined." 

" And the poor pig — what became of it?" 

"Puir, indeed! It wasna worth the minding: 
its head was dung in, and it gat a sma* fracture on 
the side ; but as it was bonny in its color, and genty 
in its mak. Bell syned it out in dear water, then 
rubbed it up wi* a duster, and clapped it on the shelf 
in the kitchen, where it lies to this blessed day, in 
peace and quiet, as I may say. In my opinion, sir, 
the pig hadna been right made." 

" Not right made, madam ?" 

" Not right made, sir. You look surprised. Think 
you ony body can make a pig ?" 

" Far from it, madam." 

" It would sarely fash you and me, Fm jalousing, 
Mr. Josiah Flowerdew.** 

" Admitted, madam ; admitted. — ^But, my dear 
Mrs. M^Crie, I have just one other thing to ask. 
You have told me— (here Josiah gave a shudder)— 



THS MIQBATIOHa Or A BOLAR 0006B. 



hov the mnk and hooey geta in. Now, maduD, 
nuy I be tUoned lo ntlc, bow 70a get the tjV- 
bbnb ouir 

" HoiT «s i^t it outF Lord, rir, jod forprise 
ne 1 JuEt the way wa put it in. How would jon 
get It out f Sura, there's use magic io tbat 1" 

" Kay, tnadam, I don't pretend to leoture upon 
aor ipeculations on the point. There are mat)]' 
reaions, no doubt, why the pig would easier let it 
out thaa in ; and I km quite wiillng to prefer the 
mouth. Bui, after It ii out, pru}-, madam, who eats 
the syllabub T — or, pray, madam, do you also eat 
the pigf" 

■> Ha, ha I Weei, that's guide. Lord, sir, the pig's 

"Ged, madam, you are right; T had forgot the 
fi7lng. But as to the milk and jelly, or the berga- 
mol pear, after the pig's, for whose inleelinea are 
they devoted!" 



"You, wr, if you will do me tliat honor." 
"Ue, madam! Ucl Good night, madam. Pray 
don't waken the doctor. I am particularly engaged. 
Xny, madain, not a morecl— <I would as eoon bolt 
a bubecued toad, or mouth a curHcd bedgc-hog) — 
I do entreat you to keep it for the neit presbytery. 
If tbey resemble our clergy in the south, they are 
more Gunlliar with [ngs than I am. — Well, well •"■ 
Mr. Flowerdew was heard to exclaim, as he, in a 
uaiuier, tumbled down, in bis haste, from top to 
the bottom of the stair, " I hare oficn heard tliat 
the Scotch were dirty ; but, by all the stripes in n 
yard of gingham, they were born barbariana t" 
"Ur. Doutf lew t" exclaimed the Doctor, awaken- 




ing. "Where are yout Here's my wife with the 
syllabub. Where are you, Ur. Hoonkew?" 

" I'm olT!" answered M*. Jonlah; and it is said 
by his friends, that during a long Kfe of come 
scTenty yeurn, no persuasion tould induce him ever 
again to visit Edinburgh. "The lame pig," he 
would mutter to himself, "the jelly and hot mitk 1 
Heaven save nie from such & 



f, "the jelly and 
ich k calamitj V 



THE nGRATIOKS OF A SOLAN GOOSE. 




ELL, Bryce," said Mrs. Uaiwell one day to her house- 
keeper. " what has the gamekeeper sent this wei'k 
from Maxwell Hall f—" Why, madam, there are 
three pair of partridges, a brace of grouKC, ■ wood- 
cock, thrae hares, & couple of pheasant'', and a 
solan goose," — "A solan poosel ejaculated the 
lady; "what rould induce him to think I would 
poison my house »ith a solan goose?" — "He knows 
it is a dish that mv mafler is very fond of," replied 
Mrs. Brvce. "It'is more than your mistress ia," 
retorted the lady ; "let it be thrown out directly 
before Ur. Maxwell sees it." 

The housekeeper retired, and Mrs. Maxwell i«- 
rimed her cogilalionB, the subject of which was 
how to obtain an iiitroducliaa to the French no- 
blesse who had recently Uken up iheu- abode in 
Edinburgh. " Good heavens I" said she, as she has- 
tilv rung (he bell, "how could I be so stupid f — 
there is nothing in the world that old Lady Crosby 
is so fond of as a solan goose, and I understand she 
knows all the French people, and that they are con- 
stantly with her.— Bryce," she continued, as tbe 
housekeeper ol>eyed her summons, " is the gooae ■ 
fine bird!" "Very flue Indeed, madam ; the beak 
is broken, and one of the iegt is a little ruffled, but 
t never saw a finer bird." " Well, then, don't throw 
it awaj, as I mean to wnd it to my friend, lad; 
Crotby, as aoon as I bars written a note," Mis. 



TBI H10KA.TI0MB OP A BOLAN OOOBE. 



637 



BrjM ooee more retreated, and Kn. Haiwell, har- 
ing leleoied > beautiful ^c«t of note paper, quickl; 
penned the folloving effusion ; 

" My dear Ladj Crosby, permit me to request 
jour acceptance of a soIbd koom, *liieh has Just 
been sent me rrom Haiwell Bali, Knowing jonr 
fondnMs for this bird, I am delighted at having it 
in mj power to gntlf; jou. I hope tliat yon cdq- 
tinue lo enjoy good he&Itb. This is to be a Terj 
gay winter. B; the bye, do you linow any one 
who is aequainted with the French nobleBaeT 1 
am dying to meet with them. Erer, my dear Lady 
Crosby, youra truly, V. UaIWell." 

Lady Crosby being out when this btltet reached 
her bouse, it vat opened by one of her danghlcn. 
"Bices me, Harial" she exclaimed to ber rialer, 
"how fortunate it was that I opened this note; 
Sin. Uaiweil bu sent mamnia a ■ulan goose I" 
"Dreadful I" eicUmedEliia; "I am sure If mamma 
heart of it she will have it routed Immediately, and 
Captain Jessamy, of the Lancers, is to caU to-day, 
Knd yoQ know, a roasted solan gooie is enough to 
contaminate a whole parish, — I shall certainly go 
distracted!" " Don't discompose yourself," replied 
Haria; "I shall take good care to send it out of 
the house before mamma comes home; meanwhile, 
I must write a civil answer to Urs. Maiwell'a note. 
I dare say she will not think of alluding to it ; but, 
if she should, mamma, luckily, is pretty deaf, and 
may nerer be a bit the wiser." " I think," said 
Ehia, " we had better send the goose to the Napicre, 
us they were rather affronted at not being asked to 
our last musical party ; I dure say tbey will make 
no use of it, but it looks attentive." " An eicellent 
thought," r^ained Hsria. No sooner said than 
done; in five minutes, the travelled bird had once 
more changed ita quarters. 

"A solan goose I" ejaculated Urs. ftapler, as her 
footman gave her the Intelligence of Lady Crosby's 
pretent, "Pray, return my complimenu to her 
lady^ip, and I feel much obliged by her polite at- 
tention. Truly," continued she, when the domestic 



had retired to (iilBI this miatioD, " If Lady Croebj 
thinks to stop our mouths with a solan goose, she 
will End herself very moch mistaken. I suppose 
she means this as a peace-offering for not hanng 
asked us to ber Usl party. I soppose she was 
afraid, CHara, my dear, yon would cut out her 
clumsy daughters with ^r Charles." " If I don't. It 
shall not be my fault," replied ber amiable daughter. 
"I flirted with him in such famous style at the last 
concert, that I thought Eliza would have fainted oo 
the spot. But what are you going lo do wilb the 
odious birdf" "Ob, I shall desire John to carry 
it to poor Urs. Johnstone." "I wonder, mamma, 
that yon would take the trouble of sending sU the 
way to the Canongato for any such purpose ; what 
good can it do you to oblige people who are so 
wretchedly poor?" "Why, my dear," replied tho 
lady, "to tell you the truth, your father, in early 
life, received sucb valuable saaislancc from Hr. 
Johnstooe. who was at that time a very rich man, 
as laid the foundation of his present fortune. Severe 
losses reduced Mr. Johnstone to poverty ; be died, 
and your father has always been intending, at least 
promising to do something for the family, but has 
never found an opportunity. Last year, Mrs. 
Johnstone most UDfortuuBtGly heard that he had It 
in bia power to get a young man out to India, and 
she applied to Hr. Napier on behalf of her son, 
which, I must say, was a very ill-judged step, as 
showing that tho thought be required to be re- 
minded of hie promises, which, to a man of any 
feeUng, must always be a grating circumstance; 
but I have often observed, that poor people have 
very Uttlc delicacy in such points; however, as 
your papa &ncies sometimes lliBt these people hare 
a sort of claim on him, I am sure he wilt be glad lo 
pay them any attention that costs bim nothing." 

Behold, then, our hero exiled from the fadiion- 
able regions of the West, aod laid on the broad of 
his back on a table, in a small but clean room, in « 
humble tenement in the Canongate, where three 
hungry children eyed with delight bis fat legs, bit 
sweUing breast and magnificent i^oos. " Oh, 




qcss 



A LEGAL PEDANT KONPLUS8ED. 



mamma, mamma,'* cried the children, skipping 
round the table, and clapping their hands, ** what 
a beautiful goose I how nice it will be when it is 
roasted 1 You must have a g^eat large slice, 
mamma, for you had very little dinner yesterday. 
Why have we never any nice dinners now, mamma?" 
** Hush, little chatter-box," said her brother Henry, 
a fine stripling of sixteen, seeing tears gather in 
his mother^s eyes. ** My dear boy," said Mrs. John* 
stone, "it goes to my heart to think of depriving 
these poor children of their expected treat, but I 
think we ought to send this bird to our benefac- 
tress, Lady Bethune. But for her, what would 
have become of us ? While the Napiers, who owe 
all they have to your worthy and unfortunate fa- 
ther, have given us nothing but empty promises, 
•he has been a consoling and ministring angel, and 
I should wish to take this opportunity of showing 
my gratitude ; trifling as the offering is, I am sure 
it will be received with kindness." " 1 am sure of 
it," replied Henry ; " and I will run and buy a few 
nuts and apples to console the little ones for losing 
their expected feast." 

The children gazed with lengthened faces as the 
goose was carried from their sight, and conveyed 
by Henry to the house of Lady Bethune, who, ap- 
preciating the motives which had dictated the gifl, 
received it with benevolent kindness. " Tell your 
mother, my dear," said she to Uenry, " that I feel 



most particularly obliged by her attention, and be 
sure to say that Sir James has hopes of procuring a 
situation for you ; and if he succeeds, I will come 
over myself to tell her the good news." Henry 
bounded away as gay as a lark, while Lady Bethune, 
after having given orders to her butler to send 
some bolls of potatoes, meal, and a side of fine 
mutton, to Mrs. Johnstone, next issued directions 
for the disposal of the present she had just re- 
ceived. 

" La, madam !" exclaimed Mrs. Bryce, as she once 
more made her appearance before her mistress, '* if 
here be not our identical solan goose come back to 
us, with Lady Bethune^s compliments! I know 
him by his broken beak and rufiSed leg; and as 
sure as eggs arc eggs, that's my master^s knock at 
the door!" "Run, Bryce! fly!" cried Mrs. Max- 
well in despair ; " put it oui of sight ! give it to the 
house-dog!" 

Away ran Mrs. Bryce with her. prize to Towler ; 
and he, not recollecting that he had any favor to 
obtain from any one, or that he had any dear 
friends to oblige, received the present very grate- 
fully, and, as he lay in his kennel. 

Lazily mumbled the bones of ?je dead ; 

thus ingloriously terminating the migrations of a 
solan goose. 



•»> 



A LEGAL PEDANT NONPLUSSED. 



▲NON. 



Isaac McGregor was a simple-minded rustic, of 
a most obliging disposition, with a vein of sar- 
castic humor, which he could work with very deci- 
ded effect when occasion required. He rented a 
small patch of ground that fringed the muir of 
Kippen, part of the estate of Stirling of Garden. 
Isaac had never seen much of the great world. 
With a couple of horses, he contrived to keep the 
thatch over his shoulders, and the wheels of life in 
working condition, by carrying whiskey for the far- 
famed Kepp distillery, the proprietor of which, the 
late Mr. Cassils, was distantly related to him. Isaac 
piqued himself on his knowledge of horses, and was 
generally his own farrier, whether as respected 
medical treatment, or arming the hoofs of that 
noble animal agoinst the tear and wear of the road. 

Isaac had been witness to the sale of a horse at 
the fair of Shandon, which, though sold as sound, 
turned out afterwards to have some defect in the 
hoof; and an action was raitied before the sheriff, 
and proof allowed, to show that the disease was of 
long standing, and the fault must have been known 
to the vender at the time of sale. Isaac was sum- 
moned to Dumblane, to give evidence before the 
sheriff in favor of the defender. 

The agent employed by the purchaser was as pom- 
pous a ** quill driver" as ever scribbled on parch- 
ment or small pott. Peter Dudgeon (for that was 
his name) boasted that he had a more complete 
knowledge of the English language than any prac- 
titioner m sheriff or burgh court, from the Gram- 
pians to Cheviot, from his having the whole of 
Johnson*s dictionary at his finger-ends. The words 
selected by Peter for common use, were remarkable 
more for the quantity of the alphabet employed in 



their construction, than from their adaptation to 
the idea meant to be conveyed. 

Peter thou/|^ht to dash Inaac, and so confuse him 
at first, that his evidence would want coherence, 
and therefore be rejected. The officer called out, 
*'ls Isaac M'Gregor in court?" " Yes, sir!" shout- 
ed Isaac, in a voice like the report of school-boy artil- 
lery. " Come forward, then." 

Peter threw himself back into his seat and looked 
terror, at the same time displaying a frill of cambric 
of extraordinary depth and longitude. ** Your 
name is Isaac McGregor — is it?" "The minister 
ance caM me that, and I Imena had ony reason to 
change 't since, but y.ou needna spcir my name, for 
ye hae kent me ony time this twenty years." ** It 
is only for the information of the court." ** Giff 
that be a\ you're abler to tell them than I am — 
youVe glibber in the tongue." ** Very well ; gen- 
tlemen of the court, the deponent^s name is Isaac 
M'Gregor, a most enlightened, ratiocinating, and 
philosophic carter, from the bloody mires of Lock- 
Leggin. Notice that, gentlemen! Do you know 
any thing about the vending, transtulation, or trans- 
fer of the quadruped in question ?" ** I didna bring 
my dictionary in my pouch this day, or else I micht 
hae been able to spell your meaning : maybe, my 
lord judge, ye'll be able to explain what he means, 
for to me there^s just as muckle sense in the blether 
o* the heather blubber!" " He means to ask, wit- 
ness, do you know any thing about the sale of the 
horse, the subject on which vou are summoned 
here?" ** Thank you, my lord. Tes, I ken thai 
the horse was selt to Jock Paterson there ; and he 
appeared to me to be weel worth t* the ailler ho 
gied for him.** 



THX LAST DEBT. 



689 



** Wcilf my sexagenarian friend Isaac,** resumed 
Peter, ** how do you know, or how can you satisfy 
your mind as to the validity of the testimony upon 
which your powers of perception have chosen to 
arbitrate so temerariously V* ** Och, man ! it would 
t&k you a lang time to ken as muckle about horses 
aa I do ; ye would need to gang out and eat grass 
wi* them for seven years, like auld Nebuchadnezzar, 
afore ye learnt your lesson." 

Peter was fairly put out, and got into a violent 
rage. ** My lord, I have asked a plain question, 
and I must demand a categorical answer, or I shall 
move that the witness be committed for contempt 
of court." ** I would advise you, Mr. Dudgeon," 
said the judge, 'Ho put your questions in a more 
intelligtble shape, and I have no doubt but the wit> 
ness will give you a respectful answer." **That 
sairs you right, Peter," said the imperturbable 
Isaac, " and gin I had you in the muir o* Kippen, I 
would let ye fin' the weight o* that shakle-bane 
alang the side o* your head — and mak thae horn- 
shottle teeth in your mouth dance the Dusty Miller. 
Ony mair to spin, ye manifest piece o* impudence?" 

** What do vou know about the value of a horse ?" 
resumed Peter. **I wonder what I should ken 
about, if I didna ken about horse — ^I may say bom 
and brought up amang them — mair than ye can 
say, Mr. Peter, o' the profession ye hae taen by the 
hand." " Have you made it your business to be- 
come acquainted with the veterinary art, whether 
MB applied to the general anatomy of the horse, or 
the moral and physical habits of this useful animal ; 
and, to attain the requisite degree of knowledge, have 
you studied care{\illy the article on that subject in 
the Encyclopaedia Britannica, and most particularly, 
as in the minuti» of detail on the subject, have you 
bought from your bookseller, a copy of the work, 
entitled The Horse, published under the sanction 
and patronage of the society denominating them- 
selves. The Society for Diftusing Useful Knowledge, 
and made it your study by night and by day V" 



"Hech, sirs I nae wonder, Peter, that voa*ro 
blawing like a bursting haggis, after a* that blabber 
o* words ; youMl hae pitten a' the lair ye e*er got 
at the cottage in that speech, Fse warrant; — ye 
mind sin* you and I were at Claymire^s school the- 
gether, what a poor iusionless whey-faced shawp 
o* a creature you war\ baith in soul and body, and 
that you couldna spell your ain name !" '* Do you 
know, then, any thing about the diseases that horses 
are predisposed to ?" " Lang-winded is no ane o* 
them, at ony rate." 

** From your knowledge of the veterinary art, and 
the profound attention that you have bestowed on 
the subiect, would you presume to say, that a 
horse's hoof might be the seat of any latent, nn- 
manifested ailment— disease-— malady — gangrene or 
tumor, protected though it be by the crust or wall 
of the foot, without being visible to the ocuUr 
faculty? Now?" 

** Did ye hear the thunder down there, lads ? Ye 
may be verra thankfu*, Mr. Dudgeon, that ye haena 
mony teeth left in the front o* your mouth, or thae 
big words could never hae gotten out." " Really, 
Mr. Dudgeon," said the Judge, " you are taking np 
too much time of the court, by useless preliminaries. 
If you have any of your young men in court, would 
you allow one of them to take up the examination?** 
** Very well, my lord." 

^ William, take up this brief, or case, and farther 
interrogate that incorrigible carter.** ** Witness ! 
the next question in my brief or case, — and recol- 
lect you are- still upon oath, is — Do you suppose it 
possible for a disease or ailment to exist in the per- 
forating flesh or tendon, without immediately mani- 
festing itself in occasioning lameness by its action 
in the chamber of the hoof?" "Weel, my lord- 
judge, after a', are thae twa no a bonny pair ? as 
the craw said o' his claws." The court became per* 
fectiy convulsed, so that the sheriff was hiniself 
obliged to finish the examinatioi 



•♦• 



A COOK'S LEGACY. 



BT J. n. CARRICK. 



Bleak now the wmter blaws, thick flee the driftin' 
snaws, 

A* the warld looks cauld and blae ; 
Birds wha used to sing, now wi' shiverin* wing, 

Dozen'd sit on the frosted spray ; 
But though the wintry winds blaw keenly, 

What are the wintry winds to mo. 
When by the kitchen fire sae cleanly, 

My love is baking a pie for me ! 

Oh when I think on her cheeks sae greasy, 
Oh when I think on her shoulders fat, 

Never a lass have I seen like Lcezy, 

She makes my poor heart to go pitty-pat I 



All the way hame though never so dreary. 
It charms my heart to think of thee ; 

How by the kitchen fire sae cheery, 
My love is baking a pie for me. 



Some yield their hearts to the charms of beauty, 

Doatlug with pleasure upon her smile, 
But when they've caught their long-wish'd booty, 

'Twill neither make pat nor pan to boil ; 
And wi' their beauty they aft catch a Tartar — 

Often it happens, as all may sec : 
Then for beauty. Til scorn to barter 

The maid that is baking a pie for me. 



■♦♦•- 



li£ 



Thx Last Dkbt. — ^An old man about to die, had 
his friends around him, when he was desired by 
his wife to tell what debts were owing to him. 

**Thore*s owes me five shillings for mutton." 

** tt,** inteijected the delighted helpmate, " to see 
m ana at ih» time o* day, and just gaun to close his 
ImI aoecwnlt hae the use o* his faculties— just say 
■JM', TiWBi* •'▲7,an'— tenshUlingBforbeef:^ 



" What a pleasant thing to see a man bein* sensible 
to the last I ony mair ?" ^* An' a crown for a cow's 
hide." "Ay," quoth the wife, "sensible yet — 
weel, James, what was't ye was gaun to say?" 
" Nae mair," quoth James, " but I am ow'n Jock 
Tamson twa pounds in balance o' a cow." ** Hoot, 
toot," quoth the wife, *^he's a ravin' now — he's just 
demented-'Kiinna mind ony mair that he says." 



»* "i* 



BO!f OATLTIKE BALLATS. 



THE STUDENT OF JENA, 
r w. a. ATTDDir (bom uultub). 



Omce — ^t «u when I lived 

At a WirtbshBus' door I sat ; 
And in peiuive coalemplatian, 

Ate tbe sauufje thicli aad tat 
Ate the kraut, tbat never sourer 

Tailed to m j lips than here ; 
Bmoked m; jupe of strong caiuslei 

Bipped mj titleeolb jug of beer ; 
Gaied upon the |;lanciag river, 

Oaied upon the tranquil pooi, 
Whence the silver- voiced Undine, 

When the nighta were calm and ^^ 

JU the Baron Fouqui tella hb, _ ~ 

Bose from out her ebeiij grot, ~ 

Cuting glamour o'er the walera, 
Wilebing that enchanted epot. 
From the sbador -'-'-'■ ■■-- 
coppice 
Hinf^ acroaa the nppling stream, 
Hid I hear a Bound of music — 

Was it thought, or was it di«aTn ? 
There, beside a file of linen, 

Strelehed along the daixied swnnl, 
Elood a young and blooming maiik-n — 

Twas her thrush-like song 1 h#urJ. 
Evermore within the tidy 

Did abe plunge the white chemise ; 
And her robes were loosely gathered 
Rather Gir above her knees ; 

Then my breath at once forsook me. 

For too surely did I deem 
That I saw the fair Undine 

Standing in the glancing stream — 
And I felt the charm of knighthood ; 

And from that remembered day, 
Every evening to the Wlrlhshiua 

Took I my enchanted way. 
Shortly to relate my atorv, 

Many a week of summer long. 
Came I there, when beer-o'eriakcn, 

With my lute and with my song ; 
Sung in mellow-toned soprano 

All my love and aU my woe, 
VII the river-maiden answered, 

Lilting in the stream below : — 
"Fair Undine! sweet Undine I 

Dost Ihoa love as I love thee ?" 
" Love is free as running water," 

Was tbe answer made to me. 




Thus, in Interchange seraii 

Did I woo my phantom 
Till the nights grew lon^ i 

SlTort and shorter grew iiic oni 
Till at last — 't was Aiak and glooi 

Dull aod starless was the sky. 
And my steps were all nn'tendy. 

For ■ little flushed was 1, — 
To the well accustomed signal 

No response the maiden gave ; 
But I heard the waters wat^ng. 

And the moaning of the wave. 



■hilly. 



So I took my trusty meerschaum, 
And I took my lute likewise; 

Wandered forth in minstrel fashion, 
Underneath the lowering skies; 

Sang before each cornel j Winhihaiis, 



When Undine was my theme, 
Kngjng, OS I sang at Jena, 

When the shiAa were hung to dry, 
" Fair Undine I young Undine ! 

Dost thou love as well as I r " 

But, alas! in Geld or vilUge, 

Or be«de the pebbly shore. 
Did I see those glancing ankles. 

And the white rolie, never more; 
And no answer came to greet me. 

No sweet voice to mine replied ; 
But I heard the waters rippling. 

And the moaning of the tide. 




HT viTB 8 ooiTenr. 



MY WIFE'S COUSIN. 



DccsKD wtlh ahoei of bUokut poUah, 

And with shirt m irhite u anow. 
After mitutiiul bceftkfast 

To laj diilj desk I go ; 
First ■ fond ulute beBiowing 

On my Ukry'l mbj Upa, 
Which, perehancB, mi; be rewarded 

With ft p*ii of pUyfoI uIp*. 

AH daj long aoroai the ledger 

Still mj pfttient pen I drive, 
TMaking what a fewt awuta me 

In m; happy home at five ; 
Id my smBll, one^oricd Eden, 

Where mj wife awaits mj coming. 
And our MUtary handmaid 

Mutton chops with care Is crumbing. 

When the cloak proclalnw mj freedom. 

Then my bat I ariie and raniah ; 
Every trouble from my bosom. 

Every aniloos care t banith. 
Swiftly brushing o'er the pavemenl, 

At a furious pace I go, 
Till I reach my dulio); dwelling 

In the wllda of Pimlico. 

" Vary, wife, where art thou, dearest ?" 

Thus I cry, while yet afar ; 
Ah I whftt scent invades my nostrils? — 

Xu the smoko of a cigar I 




Instantly into the parlor 

Like a maniac I haste, 
And I And a yonng Life-GoardmnMi, 

With bit ftm round Mary's w^t. 



And his other hand Is playing 

Most familiarly with hers ; 
And I think my Brossels carpet 

Somewhat damaged by his spurs. 
"Fire and furies I what the blaaes!" 

Thus in freniied wrath I call; 
When my aponse her arms upralwe. 

With the most aaloanding squall. 

" Was there ever soch a monst«r, 

Eier Duch a wretched wUeT 
Ah I bow long must I endure it, 

Eow protract this hateful life t 
All day long, quite unprol«cted, 

Does he leave his wife at home , 
And she cannot see her counna, 

Even when they kindly come I" 

Then the young Lirc-Qnardaman, riring, 
Scnrce vouchsafes a single word, 

But with look of deadly menace, 
Oaps his hand upon bis sword; 

And in feur I faintly lalter — 

"This TDur cousin, then he's mine! 



Won't ft ferret suck a rabbit t— 

As a thing of course be slopsi 
And with most voracious swikUow 

Walks into niy mutton chops. 
In the twinkliog of a bed-poat, 

Is each savory platter clear, 
And he shows uncommon science 

In his estimate of beer. 



d he niD< 

For a glass of something hot. 
Neither chops nor beer I grudge him, 

Kor a moderate share of goes; 
But I know not why he's always 

Treading upon Mary's loea. 



Evermore, when, home returning. 
From the connlLng-hou»e I come, 

Do I find the young Life-Guardsman 
Smoking pipes and driuking rum. 

Evcraiore he stays to dinner. 



Tet T know he's Mary's conriD, 

For my only son and heir 
Much resembles that young Guardsman, 

With the selfsame curly hair ; 
But I wish he would not always 

Spoil my carpet with his spurs; 
And I'd rather see his ftngen 

In the fire, tbui tonobing hen. 



THK VBIAJB8 OF DUOX. 



THE FEIABS OF DIJON. 



D confeta'd tbelr tl 



Lived joTiallj uid freely. 



One Mia mM Father BonitkM, 
And he ne'er knew disquiet, 

SkTe when eoDdemn'd to wjing grace 
O'er nmttifying diet. 

The other tm leu Dominlck, 
Whow deader tona, end mUow, 

Would BCarce here mide ■ candkirick 
For Boniface'i tallow. 

JJbett, be tippled Uke e fUh, 
Tbough Dot the eune potation ; 

And mortal man ne'er cicar'd a dish 
With nimbler maslicatioa. 

Those laiets without the shirts aniied. 
One evening late, to piceon 
antrj pair for alms, that lived 
out a lean ' "" 



About a league from Djjoii 

Whose aupper-pot was set to boil. 

On faggots briakl J crackling ; 
The friars enter'd, with a smiJe 

To Jacquei and to Jacqueline. 

They bow'd and bless'd the dame, and then 

In [nous terms benought her, 
To give two holj-minded men 

A meal of bread and water. 

For water and a crust thej craTe, 

Those mouths that even on Lent dajs 

Scarce knew the laate of water. Bare 
When watering for dainties. 

Quoth Jacqucz, " That were sorry cheer 

For men fatigued and dusty ; 
And if je supp'd on cnisls, I fear. 

You'd go to bed but crusty." 

So forth he brought a fiask of rich 

Wine, fit to feast Blcnug, 
And viands, at the sight of which 
They Uugh'd like two hyena*. 

Allemalely, the host and spouse 

Regaled each pardon-gauger. 
Who told them tales right marvellons,' 

And lied as for • wager — 

'Bout churches like balloons eonvey'd 

With sroaautic martyrs; 
And wells made warm, where holy maid 

Bad only dipp'd her garten. 



And if their hearers gaped, I guess, 
With jaws three inch asunder, 

Twas partly out of weariness. 
And partly oat of wonder. 

Then striking up duets, the freres 
Went on to smg In matches, 

From pxalms to sentimental aira, 
From these to glees and catches. 

At lopt, they would have danced outrigfa 
Like a baboon and tame bear. 

If Jaci(llez bad not drunk. Good night, 
Atid shown them to their chambei. 

The room was high, the host was nigh — 

Had wife or he suspicion, 
That monks would make a raree-show 

Of chinks in the partitionf — 

Or that two confessors would come, 
Their holy ears out-reaching 

To convenatlona aa hum-drum 
Almost as their own preaching? 




Shame on you, Friare of orders gray. 
That pcc[Nng knell, and wrig^ng. 

And when ye should have gone to praj. 
Betook yourselves to giggling I 

But every deed will have its meed: 
And hark I whnt information 

Bas made the sinners, in a trice. 
Look black with consternation. 

The farmer on a hone prepares 
His knife, a long and keen one ; 

And talks of killing both the freres, 
The bt one, and the lean one. 



TBI nOABB OF DUOS. 



To-momw b; Ibe br««k of dftj, 

Be orden too, Bdtprtre, 
And pickliDg-tubi ; but, nadw, Itej, 

Our boat wu oi 



Tbe prieita knew not that couDtrj-folk 
Oi*e pigt tbe nun« of Man; 

But sUrtled, ir jtleaa of the joke, 
Ai if thej trod on briera. 

UeRDwhne, at the; perspired with dread, 

The hair of either craTcn 
Had atood erect upon bis head, 

But that their head* were 8ha*en. 

Wbat, ^ekle and imoke u« limb bf Umb 1 
God cone him and bis lardneral 

St. Peter will bedevil him, 
If he laltpetrea pardoDers. 

Yet, Dominick, to die I — tbe bars 

Idea abakcfl one oddlj ; — 
Tea, Boniface, 'lia time we were 

Begiiuung to be godlj. 



Dominick, thj netber end 

Should bleed for eipladon, 
And thou shouldst hare, 1117 dear fat friend, 

A glorioua flageUatioa. 

Bnt baring ne'er • awitch, poor souta, 
Thej bow'd like weeping willowi. 

And told the Sainti long ngmarolea 
Of all tbidr peecadiUoa. 




Heanwhlle the other flew to town. 

And with abort reapbMion 
Braj'd like a donke; up and down 



Men left their beda, and nlght-capp'd headi 
Popp'd out from everjr caiement; 

Tbe cats ran frighten'd on the leads ; 
D^on wa* all amaiement. 



A thought their fancies tickled, 
Twere better bme the window's height. 
Than be at morning [4ck)ed. 

And M tbe; girt themaelTet to leap. 
Both under breath Imploriog 

A regiment of SainU to\eep 
Their boat and hoaleia inoilng. 

The lean one lighted like a eat, 



Who, being bj natnre more deatgn'd 
For rating than for juni[^g, 

Fell beaT7 on his parte behind, 
That bn>aden'd with the plumping. 

There lon^ beneath the window's acooce. 

His bruises be sat pawing. 
Squat as the figure of a brooie 

Upon a Chinese dimwing. 

At length he waddled to a at; ; 

The plga, jon'd thoueht for ^me lake. 
Came round and nosed liim lonnglj, 

Aa if they'd kiwwn their ni 



Abi — quoth the priest — ase-asrins, Si, 
Are hence a league, or nigher. 

About to salt, scrape, massacre. 
And barrel up a friar. 

Soon at the magistrate't command, 
A troop from tbe gens-d'arm'a house, 

Of twenty men, rode sword In hand. 
To storm the bloody farm's house. 

it the; were cantering towards the place 
Comes Jacquei to the swinejard. 

Bat started when a great round face 
Cried, " Rascal, bold th; whinyard." 

Twu Bonifilce, as mad's King Lear, 
Playing antics in the piggery :— 

" And what the deril brought you here, 
Tou mountain of ft fHar, ehr 



644 



CHANOEABLE CHARUE. 



Ah, once how jolly, now how wan, 
And blubbered with the rapon, 

That frantic Capuchin began 
To cut fantastic capers — 

Crying, ** help, halloo, the bellows blow. 

The pot is on to stew me ; 
I am a pretty pig, but, no ! 

They shall not barbacue me.** 

Nor was this raving fit a sham ; 

In truth, he was hysterical. 
Until they brought him out a dram. 

And thai wrought like a miracle. 

Just as the horsemen halted near, 
Crying, Murderer, stop, ohoy, oh ! 

Jacquez was comforting the frerc 
With a good glass of noyeau — 



Who beckonM to them not to kick up 

A row ; but, waxing mellow. 
Squeezed Jacquez* hand, and with a hiccup 

Said, You*re a d— d good fellow. 

Explaining lost but little breath : — 

Here ended all the matter ; 
So God save Queen Elizabeth, 

And long live Henry Quatre ! 

The gens-d'arms at the story broke 

Into horse-fits of laughter, 
And, as if they had known the joke. 

Their horses neighM thereafter. 

Lean Dominick, methinks, his chaps 
Yawn'd weary, worn, and moody ; 

So may my readers too, perhaps, 
And thus I wish *em Good dav. 



•♦< 



CHANGEABLE CHARLIE 

^ iTale of i^e ^omiitie. 

BY ANDREW PICKSN. 



It was in the early part of my life, when I was 
yet in the apprenticeship of my fortune, that I had 
the teaching of a pleasant boy, whose name was 
Charlie Cheap. Charlie's father was a wcel-speeked 
witless body, who kept a shop in the largest village 
near; and having made money by mere want of 
sense, and selling of the jigs and jags of a country 
town, was called by the name of John Cheap the 
Chapman, after the classical story of that person- 
age with which we used to be diverted when we 
were children ; so the old man seeing indications of 
genius in his son, sent the lad to me to finish his ed- 
ucation. 

There was not a better-liked boy in the whole 
school than Charlie Cheap; for though he never 
would learn any thing effectually, and was the head 
and ringleader of every trick that was hatched, he 
had such a laughing, happy disposition, and took 
his very punishment so good-humoredly, that it went 
to my heart to think of chastising him ; and as for 
the fool's cap and the broom sceptre, they were no 
punishment to him, for he never seemed better 
pleased than when he had them on ; and when 
mounted thus on the top of the black stool, he 
seemed so delighted, and pulled such faces at the 
rest of the boys, that no mortal fiesh could stand 
to their gravity near him, and my neat of learning 
was in danger of becoming a perfect hobbleshow of 
diversion. How to master this was past my power. 
But Charlie's versatility ended it by his own will, 
and before he was half learned in his preliminary 
humanities, his father and he had taken some scheme 
into their heads, and he was removed from me and 
sent to the college. 

I know not how it was, but for several years I 
lost sight of Charlie, until I heard that his father 
was dead, and that he was now a grown man, and 
was likely to make a great fortune. This news was 
no surprise to me, for I now began to make the ob- 
servation, that the greatest fools that I had the 
honor of preparing for the world, most generally 
became the wealtuest men. 



It was one day when on a summer tramp, that, 
entering a decentish town, and looking about at the 
shop windows, I began to bethink me of the neces- 
sity that had fallen upon me, by the tear and wear 
of the journey, of being at the expense of a new 
hat, so I entered a magazine of miscellaneous com- 
modities, when who should astonish me in the per- 
son of the shopkeeper, but my old pupil Charlie 
Cheap. ** Merciful me! Charlie," said I, "who 
would have expected to find you at thb trade ! I 
thought you had gone to the college to serve your 
time for a minister of the gospel." 

** Indeed,'* said Charlie, " that was once the intent, 
but in truth, my head got rather confused with the 
lair and the logic. I had not the least conjugality to 
the Greek coniugations, and when I came to the 
Hebrew, that is read every word backwards, faith, 
I could neither read it backwards nor forwards, and 
fairly stuck, and grew a sticked minister. But I 
had long begun to see that the minister trade was 
but a poor business, and that a man might wait for 
the mustard till the meat was all eaten, and so I just 
took up a chop like my father before me ; and 
faith, Mr. Dominie, I'm making a fortune." 

" Well," said I, " I am really happy to hear it, 
and I hope, besides that, that you like your em- 
ployment." 

** I'm quite delighted with the chop-keeping, Mr. 
Balgownic ; a very different life from chapping verbs 
in a cauld college. Besides, I am a respected man 
in the town ; nothing but Mr. Cheap here and Mrs. 
Cheap there, and ladies coming in at all hours of 
the day, and bowing and becking to me, and throw- 
ing the money to me across the counter; I would 
not wonder if they should make me a baillie yet." 

" Well, I am really delighted too," said I, "and 
from my knowledge of baillies, I would not wonder 
in the least — so good bye, Mr. Cheap. I think this 
hat looks very well on me." 

" Makes you ten years younger, sir — good bye ! 
wish you your health to wear it." 

It might be a twelvemonth after that I was plod- 



CHAK0XABL3 CBAKLIE. 



ding t\oa^ k countrj road Bome ten mile* trota the 
fdre-mcationed town, whea looking orer the hedge 
hj injr aide, I uir > teun of bones pulling a plough 
tou'Hrda me ; and my coi^titioni were disturbed by 
the vo-ing and ysu-ing of the mas who followed it. 
Sometliinf' struck me that I knew the roiue, and 
nhoti (be lut of tlie men came up, Idiscoicred uii' 
der the plush waistcoat and farmer's bonnet, mjr old 
friend Chariie Cheap. 

" Soul and conscience I " cried ho, Ihrusting hU 
elayey hand through the hedge and grasinag mine, 
" if this ia not my old maaler the Uomniic ! " and 
truly be give me the farmer'a gripe, as if mj hand 
had been made of cast metal. 

"What are you doing here, Charlio?" said I. 
" Why are you not minding your shop instead of 
marching there in Ihu furrows at the plough-tail?" 

"Chop," said he; "what chop? Nu, na, Domi- 
nie. I've gotten a better trade by (he hand." 

" It cannot be poauible, Charlie, that ye'vc turned 
farmer?" 

" Whether it be possible or no, it ia ime," said 
Charlie; "but ditina be standing there whistling 
t'.irougb the hedjfe. hut come in by the slap at the 
comer, and ye shall taste my wife's treacle ale." 

" Well really," said 1, when I had got down into 
the futn-house, " this ia the most marreUous 
chanRe." 

"No change to apeak of," said he ; " do ye think 
I waa going to bo lied up to haberdrabhery all my 
days f No, no, I knew I had a geniua for farming ; 
the chop-keeping grew flat and unprofltnble, a cbicld 
from England set up next dour to me, so a country 
customer took a fancy for a town life. I sold him 
my stock in trade, and he sold me the stock on his 



&rm. He stepped in behind tbe counter, and tgot 
behind the plough, so here I am, happier than ever t 
beiidee, harkie I I am making money &Bt." 

" Are you really ? But bow do you know thatf" 

" Can i not eoiint my ten finge'rs t Hay« I not 
figured it on black and white over and orer againf 
Therc^s ^eat profits with management such as mine, 
that 1 can assure you, sir." 

"But how could you posnbly Icam farmingf 
That, I believe, is not taught at college." 

"Foohl my friend ; 1 can learn any thing. Be- 
udes, my wife's mother was a farmer's daughter, 
and Liizj herself underatands farmiug already, as 
if she was reared to it, Bbe makes all the butter, 
and the children di4nk all the milk, and we live so 
liajipy ; birds ainging In the morning — cows lowing 
at night — drinking treacle ale all day; and nothing 
10 do but watch the com growing. In short, farm- 
ing is the natural state of man. Adam and Ere 
were a farmer and liis wife, just like me and Liiiie 
Cheap 1" 

"But you'll change again shortly, I am afraid, 
«r. Cheap." 

"That'i impossible, for I've got a nineteen years' 
lease. Tit grow gray aaafarmcr. Well, goodbye. 
Dominie. Be sure you give us a call the next lime 
ye pass, and get a drink of our treacle ale." 

" Well, reully tbls is the most eitrsordinary 
thill;*," said 1 to myself, as I walked up the lane 
from the farm house. " I thall be curious to ascer- 
tain if he's going to stick to the (arming till he's 

1 thought no more of Changeable Charlie for 









mtng I 



1 the t 



ighborhood, I resolved to go a short disianoe oat 
of my way to pay him a visit. Hy road lay across 

" "'""" " iiroom »lii..h winded alonn apleaa- 

thc til' ■ Liii:hl ihcliTclv sound of 

a wiirci ; lil, ,i ■,. ! i,.'.r miii id from a picturesque 
spot atnijug ii[ieiiiii[; woo'l.-!. a little way above tbe 
bridge. A little mill-race, with its narrow channel 
of deep, level water, ncit atlrauted my notice ; and 
presently after, the regular splash of a water-wheel, 
and the boom of a corn-mill, became Directs of my 




646 



CHANGEABLE CHARLIE. 



meditative obsenration. The mill looked so quaint 
and rustic by the stream, the banks were so green 
and the water so clear, that I was tempted to wan- 
der towards it, down from the bridge, just to make 
the whole a subject of closer observation. 

A barefooted girl came forth from the bouse 
and stared in my face, as a Scottish lassie may be 
supposed to do at a reasonable man. '^ Can you 
tell me,** said I, willing to ntake up an excuse for 
my intrusion, '* if this road will lead me to the farm 
of Longrigs, which is occupied by one Mr. Cheap?" 
The lassie looked in my face with a thieveless smile, 
and, without answering a word, took a bare-legged 
race into the mill. Presently, a great lumbering 
miller came out, like a walking bag of flour from 
beside the hopper, and I immediately saw he was 
going to address me. 

Never did I see such a snowy man. His miller^s 
hat was inch thick with flour ; he whitened the green 
earth as he walked, the knees of his breeches were 
loose, and the stockings that hung about his heels 
would have made a hearty meal for a starving gar- 
rison. 

" What can the impudent rascal be staring at ?" I 
said, and I began to cast my eyes down on my per- 
son, to see if I could And any cause in my own ap- 
pearance, that the miller and his lassie should thus 
treat me aa a world's wonder. 

"Ye were asking, I think," he said, "after Char- 
lie Cheap, of the Longrigs ?" 

** Yes," said I, " but his farm must be some miles 
from this. Perhaps, as you are the miller of the 
neighborhood, you can direct me the nearest road 
to it." 

The burlcy scoundrel first lifted up his eye-wink- 
crs, which were clotted with flour, shook out about 
a pound of it from his bu^hy whiskers, and then 
burst into a laugh in my very face as loud as the 
neighing of a niiiler^s horse. 

** Ho, ho, hough !" grinned he, coughing upon me 
a shower of flour. " Is it possible, Dominie, that 
ye dinna ken me ?" and opening a mouth at least as 
wide as his own hopper, I began to recognize the 
exaggerated features of Changeable Charlie. 

** Well really," said I, gazing at his grin, and the 
hills of flour that arose from his cheeks — " really 
this beats every thing ! and so, CharUe, ye're now 
turned into a miller ?" 

"As sure's a gun!" said he. "Lord bless your 
soul, Dominie ! do you think I could bear to spread 
dung and turn up dirt all my life ? no ! I have a soul 
above that. Besides, your miller is a man in power. 
He is an aristocrat over the farmers, and with the 
power has its privileges too, for he takes a multre 
out of every man*s sack, and levies his revenues 
like a prime minister. Xo one gets so soon fat as 
those that live by the labor of others, as you may 
see ; for the landed interest 8up{)orts me by day, 
and my water wheel works for me all night, so if I 
don*t get rich now, the deuce is in it." 

" I suppose," said I, following him into the mill, 
** you are just making a fortune." 

"How can I help it?" said he, "making money 
while I sleep, for I hear the musical click of the 
hopper in my dreams, and my bairns learn their les- 
sons by the jog of it. I wish every man who has 
passed a purgatory at college, were just as happy 
as the miller and his wife. Is not that the case, 
Lizzy ?" he added, addref<sing his better half, who 
now came forth hung round by children — " as the 
song goes/' 



Merry may the maid be that marries the miller. 
For foul day and fiUr day, he's aye bringing till her — 

His ample hands in ilk man's pock. 
His mill erinds muckle siller. 
His wife Is dress'd in s!lk and lawn 
For he's aye bringing till her. 

" But dear me, Mr. Cheap," said I, " what was it 
that put you out of the farm, where I thought you 
were so happy, and making a fortune ?" 

" I was as happy as a man could be, and making 
money too, and nothing put me out of the fvTm, 
although I was quite glad of the change, but just a 
penny of fair debt, the which, you know, is a good 
man's case — and a little civil argument about the 
rent. But every thing turned out for the best, for 
Willie Hupper, the former miller, just ran awa the 
same week ; I got a dead bargain of the milU and 
so I came in to reign in his stead. Am I not a for- 
tunate man ?" 

" Never was a man so lucky," said I ; " but do 
you really mean to bo a waiter on the niill-hopper 
all your days?" 

" As long as wood turns round and water runs : 
but, Lizzy," he added to his wife, " what are you 
standing glowering there for, ond me Uke to choke? 
Gang and fetch us a jug of your best treacle ale." 

"It surelv cannot be," said I to mvself when I 
had left the mill, " that Changeable Charlie will ever 
adopt a new profession now, but live and die a mil- 
ler." I was, however, entirely mistaken in my cal- 
culation, as I found before I was two years older; 
and though I have not time, at this present sitting, 
to tell the whole of Charlie's story — and have a 
strong suspicion that my veracity might be put in 
jeopardy, were I to condescend thereto, I am quite 
ready to take my oath, that after this I found him 
in not leas than five difl'ercnt characters, in all of 
which he was equally happy and equally certain of 
making a fortune. Where the mutations of Charlie 
might have run to, and whither, to speak with a 
little agreeable stultification, be might not, like 
another remarkable man, have exhausted worlds 
and then imagined new, it is impossible to predi- 
cate, if Fortune had not, in her usual injustice, put 
an end to his career of change, by leaving his wife 
Lizzy a considerable legacy. 

The last character then that I found Charlie striy- 
ing to enact, was that of a gentleman — that is, a 
man who has plenty of money to live upon, and 
nothing whatever to do. It did not appear, how- 
ever, that Charlie's happiness was at all improved 
by this last change ; for, besides that it had taken 
from him all his private joys, in the hope of one day 
making a fortune, it had raised up a most unex- 
pected enemy, in the shape of old father Time, 
whom he found it more troublesome and less hope- 
ful to contend with, than all the obstacles that had 
formerly seemed to stand in his way to the making 
of an independent fortune. 

When the legacy was first showered upon him, 
however, he seemed as happy under the dispensa- 
tion as he had been before under any other of his 
changes. In the hey-dey of his joy, he sent for me 
to witness his felicity, and to give him my advice as 
to the spending of his money. This invitation I 
was thoughtless enough to accept, but it was more 
that I might pick up a little philot^ophy out of what 
I should observe, than from any pleasure that I ex- 
pected, or any good that I was likely to do. When 
I got to his house, I was worried to death by all the 
fine things I was forced to look at, that had been 
sent to Mm from Jamaica, and all that from him 



THB GOBBLES. 



647 



and his wife I waa forced to hear. I tried to im- 
press him concerning the good that he might do 
with his monej, in reference to many who sorely 
wanted it , but I found that he had too little feeling 
himself to understand the feelings of others, and 
that affliction had never yet driven a nail into his 
own flesh, to open his heart to sympathy. Instead 
of entering into any rational plans, his wife and he 
laughed aU day at nothing whatever, bis children 
turned the house upside down in their ecstasy at 
being rich ; and, in short, never before had I been 
so wearied at seeing people happy. 

In all this, however, I heard not one single word 



of thankfulness for this unlooked-for deUverance 
from constant vicissitude, or one grateful expression 
to Providence, for being so unreasonably kind to 
this family, while thousands around them struggled 
incessantly, in ill-rewarded industry and unavailing 
anxiety. So I wound up the story of Changeable 
Charlie in reflective melancholy, for I had seen so 
many who would, for any Uttle good fortune, have 
been most thankful and happy, yet never were able 
to attain thereto ; and I inclined to the sombre con- 
clusion, that in this world the wise and virtuous 
man was often less fortunate, and generally less 
happy, than the fool 



-•♦•- 



THE COBBLER. 



BT ▲. WHITSLAW. 



Ik the little picturesque village of Duddingstone, 
which lies sweetly at the foot of Edinburgh's great 
Uon, Arthur-Seat, and which is celebrated for its 
strawberries and sheep-head broth, flourished, with- 
in our own remembrance, a poor and honest mender 
of boots and shoes, by name Robert Rentoul. 

Robin had been a cobbler all his days — to very 
little purpose. He had made nothing of the busi- 
ness, although he had given it a fair trial of fifty or 
sixty years. He was born, and cobbled — got mar- 
ried, and cobbled — got children, and cobbled — got 
old, and cobbled, without advancing a step beyond 
his last. It *' found him poor at first and left him 
so I" To make the ends meet was the utmost he 
could do. He therefore bore no great liking to a 
profession which had done so little for him, and for 
which he had done so much ; but in truth, his want 
of liking may be considered as much a cause as an 
effect of his want of success. His mind, in short, 
did not go with his work ; and it was the interest, 
as well as duty and pleasure, of his good wife, Janet, 
to hold him to it (particularly when he had given 
his word of honor to a customer) by all the arts 
common to her sex, — sometimes by scolding, some- 
times by taunting, but oftener — for- Janet was a 
kind-hearted creature — ^by treating him to a thim- 
bleful of aquavits, which he loved dearly, with its 
proper accompaniments of bread and cheese. 

Although, however, Robin did not keep by the 
shoes with any good heart, he could not be called 
either a lazy or inefficient man. In every thing but 
cobbling he took a deep and active interest. In 
particular, he was a great connoisseur of the 
weather. Nobody could prophesy snow like Robin, 
or foretell a black frost. The latter was Robin's 
delight ; for with it came the people of Edinburgh, 
to hold their saturnalia on Duddingstone Loch, and 
cobbling, on these great occasions, was entirely out 
of the question. His rickety table, big-bellied bot- 
tle, and tree-legged glass, were then in requisition, 
for the benefit of curlers and skaters in general, 
and of himself in particular. But little benefit Ac- 
crued from these to Robin, although he could al- 
ways count on one good customer — in himself. On 
the breaking up of the ice, he regularly found him- 
self poorer than before, and, what was worse, with 
a smaller disposition than ever to work. 

It must have been on some occasion of this kind, 
that strong necessity suggested to Robin a step for 
the betterhig of his fortunes, which was patronized 



by the legislature of the day, and which he had 
heard was resorted to by many with success. Rob- 
in resolved to try the lottery. With thirty shilling!*, 
which he kept in an old stocking for the landlord, 
he went to Edinburgh, and purchased a sixteenth. 
This proceeding he determined to keep a profound 
secret from every one ; but whiskey caimot toler- 
ate secrets; the first half-mutchkin with barber 
Hugh succeeding in ejecting it ; and as the barber 
had every opportunity, as well as disposition, to 
spread it, the thing was known to all the village in 
the lathering of a chin. 

Among others, it reached the ears of Mr. Blank, 
a young gentleman who happened to reside at Dud- 
dingstone, and who took an interest in the fortunes 
of Robin. Mr. B. (unknown to the villagers) was 
connected with the press of Edinburgh, particular- 
ly with a certain newspaper, one copy of which 
had an extensive circulation in Duddingstone. 
First of all, the newspaper reached Mr. Blank on 
the Saturday of its publication ; on the Monday it 
fell into the hands of Robin, who, like the rest of 
his trade, had most leisure on that day to peruse it ; 
on the Tuesday, the baker had it ; on the Wednes- 
day, the tailor ; on the Thursday, the blacksmith ; 
on the Friday, the gardener ; and on the Saturday 
the barber, in whose shop it lay till the succeeding 
Saturday brought another, when it was torn down 
for suds, leaving not a wreck behind, except occa- 
sionally a King's speech, a cure for the rupture, a 
list of magistrates and town council, or any other 
interesting passage that took the barber's fancy, 
which was carefully clipped out, and pasted on the 
wooden walls of his apartment, to the general satis- 
faction, instruction, and entertainment of his cus- 
tomers. This newspaper, like Wordsworth's Old 
Cumberland Beggar, was the means of keeping alive 
a sympathy and community of feeling among the 
parties; and in particular, tended to establish a 
friendly intercourse between Robin Rentoul and Mr. 
Blank. Robin could count upon his glass every 
Monday, when he went for " the papers,** — and, ex- 
cept the gla»B, he liked nothing better than to have 
what he ^ed '*a bother" with Mr. B. himself. Mr. 
B. soon got from Robin's own mouth all the par- 
ticulars of the lottery-ticket purchase, even to the 
very number, — which was 175*7, a number chosen 
by Robin, who had an eye to fatalism, as being the 
date of the year in which he was bom. 

A love of mischief or sport suggested to the 



(48 

^ooDf; gentlemui the wicked thonght of nuking the 
nemptper i means of hoaiing Robia regarding the 
latter; ticket. We shall not undertake to defend 
Mr. Blank's conduct, ctcd on the score of hu be- 
ing, as he vu, ■ very young man. The experiment 
he made vu cruel, although we belitve it nas done 
without malignitj, and with everj resolndon that 
Robin should not be a loser by it. About the lime 
when newB of the lollcpi'drawing was expected, 
the following paragraph appeared in the newspaper 
with which Ur. Blank was connected: 

-Jtr nrlrotf sefounts from Inn'lon.'irs ondrntsnd thit 
»9«nSi1irs:.rclln:niiuil«r..lr.wii In lliB I.wwnt lotlrry 
fiirlbo l»<. SUKIm l.riie.. Wf l;iio« ii.>t If sny of tbae 
luck J auubon hsveb^D dbpooedof Id Ihts quarter.'' 

Poor Robin came for hia newspaper at the usual 
time, and in his usual manner, lie gut his cuslom- 
arr glass, but missed bia i-uutomary " bother " with 
Ur. BLink, who chose for the present to be out of 
the naj. Home be trudged, carrying the newspa- 
per, the harbinger of his fortune, in the crown of 
his hat — pUced himself on his stool— drew out Lis 
spectacles — and began to read, as usual, from the 
wginning of the lirst page. It was some time be- 
fore h« reached the paragraph big with his fate. 
When he saw it, he gave a gasp — took off hid spec- 
tacles, and began to nib them, as if doubtful that 
they had deceired him — placed them again delit)er- 
alelf on his nose — read the passsge over again, 
■lowly and surely — then quietly laying his hand on 
a shoe which he had been mending, and which coti- 
(alned a last, made it in a moment si^n through the 
window, carrying casement with It, and passing 
barely the head of a fishwife who was toiling along 
with her creel. His wife, Janet, was not at home, 
so, rushing out of doors, he made way to his old 
howlT, at (he sign of the Sheep's Head. The land- 
lady held up her handx at his wild look. 

" Send for barber Hughic," he cried, " and Neil 
the tailor ; and 1 say, Luckie, bring in — let me see — 



THE COBBLFK. 



K.IS1! — nane o your bans and quarters. 
' Guide us, Robin I What bee's this in yoorbon- 
l? The man's gyle I" 

"Look there, woman, at the papers. Ttc gotten 
I prize. A twenty thousand pounder. What's the 






t, thin: 



: blank I Eh, wow, Robin, gie't 
I shake o'your hand. 1 aye swd ye wad come te 
mmetiiiuj!. Ipy, you slut, rin for the barber,— and 
sober — and bring the gudcman too. 



The ni 






Robin was soon surrounded by all his cronies of 
the village, for the news of h'u good fortune spread 
with the rapidity of ecaudal. Innumerable were 
the libakings of liandl. and the pledges of good 
will and aai.ii'lancc. The Sh<-ep's Head soon be- 
came too hot for the company ; llic Tillage itself 
was in an uproar, and as lialloo followed halloo, 
Ur. Blank inwardly "shrunk at the sound himself 
had made." Meanwhile, to have the truth of Ihe 
^ statement confirmed, a superannuated lawyer had 
I been despatched on an old blood horse to the lot- 
j Icry office al Edinburgh ; and his return, with the 
I intelligence thai all was a hoax, spread dismay OTer 
I iho faces of ihc carouse rs, and made Robin's heart 
j sink with grief and shame. 

A speedy change look place in the conduct of 
those fair-weather friends who had flocked around 
I the poor cobbler. From being the admired of all 
' beholders, be bi'caine on object of scorn and lauch- 
Its, till, unable to stand their mocks and jibea, bo 
rushed from their presence, and sought shelter un- 
der his own bcil -clot lies. 'The onh- one who stood 
true was Keil the tailor. He followed Robin to hb 
own bouse — took him by Ihe hand, aodsaid, "Rob- 
in, my man, 1 promised you a suit o' clothes, o' ibP 
best. I ken ye wad liae befriended me had ye cot 
the cash — and — lottery or no lottery — by Jove ! I'll 
keep my word." 

Ur. BUnk took care to discharge the debt in- 




THE 8BAB0H ATTKB HAPPIMESS. 



curred at ths EheBp'ii Head, and endeavored, bj 
proffers of money and otherwiie, to comfort Robin, 
and atone in tome measure fortheli^urjhe bad se- 
cretly done him. But Robin turned himMlf in hia 
bed, and would not be comforted. Three daji he 
laid in thii plight, when authes^e Infonnatioo ar- 
rived of the drawing of t)ie lottery. Robin's iiuni- 
huc waa, afler all, in reality a luckj one — not, in- 
deed, twenty thousand, but five thuutaod pounds. 



The^teenth of even this was a little fortune to 
him, and he received it with a sober satisfaction, 
very diiferent from the boisterous gteo which he 
had formerly displayed, " 111 seek none o' them 
this time," be saiil tu his wife, Janet—" except N'eil 
the Uilor j ht, puir body, was the only true-heart- 
ed creature amang them a'. I've learnt a lesson by 
what has taken place. I ken vha to trtul." 



IE SEARCH AFTER HAPPISESS; 
0T, lyi djntat of $tillaiin Solhninm. 



Oh, for a glance of that gay muse's eye. 
That lighten'd on Bandcllo s l&ughing talc. 
And twinkled wiih a lustre shrewd and sly, 
When Giam BBtlisla bade her Ti.iion hail ! — 
Yet fear not, ladies, the naire deluit 
Given by the natives of that land unnoroua ; 
Italian license loves to leap the pale. 
We Britons have the feiir of shame before us, 
And, if not wise in mirth, st least must be decorous. 

In tbe br eastern clime, no great while since, 
Ijved Snltaun Solimsun, a mighty prince. 
Whose eyes, aa oft as they perform'd their round, 
Beheld all others fixed upon the ground; 
WTiose ears received the same unvaried phrase, 
"Sultaunl thy va&iul hears, and he obeys I" 
All have their tastes— this may the fancy strike 
Of such grave folks oa pomp and grandeur tike ; 
For me, I love the honcHt heart and warm 
arch who can amble round Lis farm, 



when tl 



:oil of a1 



nnoja. 



In chimney corner seek domestic joy 
I love a prince will bid the bottle pass. 
Exchanging with his subjects glance and glass ; 
In fitting time, can, gayest of the gay, 
Keep up the jest, and mingle in the lay — 
Such Monarchs best our free-bom humors suit, 
But Despots must be stately, stem, and mute. 

This Solimaan, Serendib bad In sway — 

And Where's Screndibf may some critic ssy — 

Good lack, mine honest friend, consult the chart, 

Scare not my Pegasus before I start! 

If Rennell has it not, you'll Snd, mayhap, 

Tbe isle laid down in Captain Knbad's map — 

Famed mariner ! whose merciless narrations 

Drove every friend and kinsman out of patience. 

Till, fain to find a guest who thought them shoi' 

He deign'd to tell them over to a porter — 

nie last edition see, by Long and Co., 

Bees, Hunt, and Orme, our fathers in the Row. 

Serendib found, deem not my tale a fiction — 
This Sultaun, whether lacking contradiction — 
(A sort of stimulant which hath its U!ws, 
To t»i»e the aiHrits and refomi the juices, 
— Sovereign specillc for all sorts of cures 
In my wife's practice, and perhaps in yours). 
The Snltaun lacking this same wholcAome bitter, 
Of cordial smooth for prince's palalo fitter — 
Or if aome Mollah had hag-rid his dreamt 
With Dcglal, Qinnlatan, and such wild tbemea 



Belonging to the Mollah's subtle craft, 

I wot not—but the Snltaun never laugh 'd. 

Scarce ale or drank, and look a melant-holy 

That scorn'd all remedy, profane or hoiy ; 

In his long list of melancholies, mad. 

Or mazed, or dumb, bath Burton none so bad. 

Physicians soon arrived, tage, ware, and tried, 
Ab e'er scrawl' d jargon in a darken'd room ; 
With heedful gUnce the Sultaun'a tongue tbey eyed, 
Peep'd in bia bath, and God knows where beiide. 
And then in solemn accent spoke their doom, 
" His majesty is very far from well." 
Then each to work with his specific felt ; 
The Hakim Ibrahim inilanler brought 
llts unguent Hahazzin al Zcrdukkaut, 
While Roompot, a practitioner more wily, 
Relied on his Uunaskif all Sllfity. 
More and yet more in deep array appear. 
And some tlie front aasail, and some the rear; 
Their remedies to reinforce and vary, 
Caino surgeon eke, and eke apothecary ; 




Tin the tired Honuoh, (hough of words grown 



630 



THE fiEABCH AFTER HAPPINESS. 



Yet dropt, to recompense their fruitlefls labor, 
Some hint about a bowstring or a sabre* 
There UckM, I promise you, no longer speeches, 
To rid the palace of those learned leeches. 



Then was the council callM — ^by their advice 
(They deemM the matter ticlclish all, and nice, 

And sought to shift it off from their own shoul- 
ders) 
Tartars and couriers in all speed were sent, 
To call a sort of Eastern Parliament 

Of feudatory chieftains and freeholders — 
Such have the Persians at this very day, 
If y gallant Malcolm calls them courouitai ; — 
Fm not prepared to show in this slight song 
That to Serendib the same forms belong — 
E^en let the learned go search, and tell me if Fm 
wrong. 

The Omrahs, each with hand on scimetar, 

Ckve, like Sempronius, still their voice for war — 

*' The sabre of the Sultaun in its sheath 

Too long has slept, nor ownM the work of death ; 

Let the Tambourgi bid his signal rattle, 

Bang the loud gong, and raise the shout of battle. 

This dreary cloud that dims our sovereign's duy. 

Shall from his kindled bosom flit away, 

When the bold Lootie wheels his courser round. 

And the armM elephant shall shake the ground. 

Each noble pants to own the glorious summons — 

And for the charges — Lo ! your faithful Commons I** 



The Riots who attended in their places 

(Serendib language calls a farmer Riot) 
Looked ruefVilly in one another*s faces. 

From this oration arguing much disquiet. 
Double assessment, forage, and free quarters ; 
And fearing these as China-men the Tartars, 
Or as the whiskered vermin fear the mousers. 
Each fumbled in the pockets of his trowsers. 
And next came forth the reverend Convocation, 

Bald heads, white beards, and many a turban 
green, 
Imaum and Mollah there of every station, 

Santon, Fakir, and Calendar were seen. 
Their votes were various — some advised a Mosque 

With fitting revenues should be erected, 
With seemly gardens and with gay Eiosque, 

To recreate a band of priests selected ; 
Others opined that through the realm a dole 

Be made to holy men, whose prayers might profit 
The Sultaon^s wetd in body and in soul. 

But their long-headed chief, the Sheik Ul-Sofit, 
More closely touched the point; — "Thy studious 

mood," 
Quoth he, ** Prince ! hath thickenM all thy blood. 
And duird thy brain with labor beyond measure ; 
Wherefore relax a space and take thy pleasure. 
And toy with beauty, or tell o'er thy treasure ; 
From sil the cares of state, my Liege, enlarge thee. 
And leave the burden to thy faith& clergy.** 



These counsels sage availed not a whit. 
And so the patient (as is not uncommon 

Where grave physicians lose their time and wit) 
Resolved to take advice of an old woman ; 

His mother she, a dame who once was beauteous, 

And still was called so by each subject duteoui. 



Now whether Fatima was witch in eamcf t, 
Or only made believe, I cannot say — 

But she professed to cure disease the sternest. 
By dint of magic, amulet or lay ; 

And, when all other skill in vain was shown, 

She deem'd it fitting time to use her own. 

" Sympathia magica hath wonders done ;" 

(Thus did old Fatima bespeak her son,) 

** It works upon the fibres and the pores, 

And thus, insensibly, our health restores. 

And it must help us here. Thou must endure 

The ill, my son, or travel for the cure. 

Search land and sea, and get, where'er you can. 

The inmost vesture of a happy man : 

I mean his shirt, my son ; which, taken warm 

And fresh from off his back, shall chase your harm. 

Bid every current of your veins rejoice, 

And your dull heart leap light as shepherd-boy's." 

Such was the counsel from his mother came ;•— 

I know not if she had some under game. 

As doctors have, who bid their patients roam 

And live abroad, when sure to die at home ; 

Or if she thought, that, somehow or another, 

Queen-Regent sounded better than Queen-Mother; 

But, says the Chronicle (who will go look it ?^ 

Tliat such was her advice — the Sultaun took it. 

All are on board — the Sultaun and his train. 
In gilded galley prompt to plow the main. 

The old Rais was the first who questioned, 
" Whither r 
They paused — "Arabia,'* thought the pensive 

Prince, 
*' Was caird The Happy many ages since ; — 

For Mokha, Rais." And they came safely thither. 
But not in Araby, with all her balm. 
Not where Judea weeps beneath her palm. 
Not in rich Egypt, not in Nubian waste, 
Could there the step of Happiness be traced. 
One Copt alone profess'd to have seen her smile 
When Bruce his goblet fiU'd at infant Nile : 
She bless'd the dauntless traveller as he quaffed. 
But vanish'd from him with the ended draught. 

" Enough of turbans," said the weary King, 

" These dolimans of ours are not the thing ; 

Try we the Giaours, these men of coat and cap, I 

Incline to think some of them must be happy ; 

At least they have as fair a cause as any can. 

They drink good wine and keep no Ramazan. 

Then northward, ho !" — The vessel cuts the sea, 

And fair Italia lies upon her lee. — 

But fair Italia, she who once unfurled 

Her eagle-banners o'er a conquer'd world. 

Long from her throne of domination tumbled, 

Lay, by her quondam vassals, sorely humbled, 

The Pope himself look'd pensive, pale, and lean. 

And was not half the man he once had been. 

** AVhile these the priest and those the noble fleeces;, 

Our poor old boot," they said, ** is torn to pieces. 

Its tops the vengcfiil claws of Austria feel, 

And the Great Devil is rending toe and heeL 

If happiness you seek, to tell you truly. 

We think she dwells with one Giovanni Bulli ; 

A tramontane, a heretic — the buck, 

Poffaredio ! still has all the luck ; 

By land or ocean never strikes his flag — 

And then — a perfect walking money-bag." 

Off set our Prince to seek John Bull's abode, 

But first took France — ^it lay upon the road. 



THB 8BAB0H AFTER HAPPINESS. 



651 



Monsieur Baboon, after much late commotion, 

Was agitated like a settling ocean, 

Quite out of sorts, and could not tell what ailM him, 

Only the glory of his house had failM him ; 

Besides, some tumors on his noddle biding, 

Gave indication of a recent hiding. 

Our Prince, though Sultauns of such things are 

heedless, 
Thought it a thing indelicate and needless. 

To ask, if at that moment he was happy. 
And Monsieur, seeing that he was eomnu Ufaut^ a 
Loud voice mustered up, for " Vive le Rot r 

Then whisper'd, ** 'Ave you any news of Nappy ?" 
The Sultaun answered him with a cross question — 

" Pray, can you tell me aught of one John Bull, 

That dwells somewhere beyond your herring- 
pool r 
The query seemM of difficult digestion. 
The party shruggM, and grinned, and took his snuff, 
And found his whole good-breeding scarce enough. 

Twitching his visage into as many puckers. 
As damsels wont to put into their tuckers 
(Ere liberal Fashion damn*d both lace and lawn. 
And bade the veil of modesty be drawn), 
Replied the Frenchman, after a brief pause, 
'* Jean Bool ! — I vas not know him — ^yes, I vas ; 
I vas remember dat, von year or two, 
I saw him at von place caird Vaterloo— 
Ma foi ! il s^est tres joliment battu, 
Dat is for Englishman — ^m^entendez-vous ? 
But den he had wit him one damn son-gun. 
Rogue I no like— dey call him Vellington.*' 
MonAieur^s politeness could not hide his fret, 
So Solimaun took leave, and crossM the strait. 

John Bull was in his very worst of moods. 
Raving of sterile farms and unsold goods ; 
His sugar-loaves and bales about he threw. 
And on his counter beat the devils tattoo. 
Hb wars were ended, and the victory won. 
But then, 'twas reckoning-day with honest John ; 
And authors vouch, 'twas still this worthy's way, 
'* Never to grumble till he came to pay ; 
And then he always thinks, his temper's such, 
The work too little, and the pay too much." 

Tet grumbler as he is, so kind and hearty. 
That when his mortal foe was on the floor. 
And past the power to harm his quiet more, 

Poor John had Well-nigh wept for Bonaparte I 
Such was the wight whom Solimaun salami — 
*^And who are you," John answer'd, **and be 
d— d?" 



*' A stranger, come to see the happiest man — 
So, signior, all avouch — ^In Frangistan."— 
'* Happy ? my tenants breaking on my hand ; 
Unstock'd my pastures, and untiU'd my land ; 
Sugar and rum a drug, and mice and moths 
The sole consumers of my good broadcloths — 
Happy? — why, cursed war and racking tax 
Have left us scarcely raiment to our backs." — 
" In that case, signior, I may take my leave ; 
I came to ask a &vor — but I grieve." — 
" Favor ?" said John, and eyed the Sultaun hard, 
"It's ray belief you came to break the yard! — 
Bat, stay, you look like some poor foreign sinner — 
Take th«t to buy yourself a shirt and dinner." — 
WHh thftl lie chttok'd a guinea at his head ; 



But, with due dignity, the Sultaun said, 
** Permit me, sir, your bounty to decline; 
A 9hirt indeed I seek, but none of thine. 
Signior, I kiss your hands, so fare you well," — 
** Kiss and be d— d," quoth John, ** and go to hell !" 

Next door to John there dwelt his sister Peg, 
Once a wild lass as ever shook a leg 
When the blithe bagpipe blew — but, soberer now. 
She doueely span her flax and milk'd her cow. 
And whereas erst she was a needy slattern. 
Nor now of wealth or cleanliness a pattern, 
Yet once a month her house was partly swept, 
And once a week a plenteous board she kept. 
And, whereas, eke, the vixen used her claws 

And teeth of yore, on slender provocation. 
She now was grown amenable to laws, 

A quiet soul as any in the nation ; 
The sole remembrance of her warlike joys 
Was in old songs she sang to please her boys. 
John Bull, whom, in their years of early strife. 
She wont to lead a cat-and-doggish life. 
Now found the woman, as he said, a neighbor. 
Who look'd to the main chance, declined no labor. 
Loved a long grace, and spoke a northern jargon, 
And was d---d close in making of a bargain. 

The Sultaun enter'd, and he made his leg. 
And with decorum courtesy 'd sister Peg ; 
(She loved a book, and knew a thing or two, 
And guess'd at once with whom she nad to do.) 
She bade him ** Sit into the fire," and took 
Her dram, her cake, her kebbuck from the nook ; 
Ask'd him ** About the news from Eastern parts ; 
And of her absent bairns, puir Highland hearts ! 
If peace brought down the price of tea and pepper, 
And if the nihnugt were grown ony cheaper ; — 
Were there nae H>eering8 of our Mungo Park — 
Ye'll be the gentleman that wants the sark ? 
If ye wad buy a web o' auld wife's spinning, 
1*11 warrant ye it's a weel wearing linen." 

Then up got Pcgi and round the house 'gan scuttle 

In search of goods her customer to nail. 
Until the Sultaun strainM his princely throttle 

And halloo'd — ** Ma'am, that is not what I ail. 
Pray, arc you happy, ma'am, in this snug glen ?" — 
»* Happy?" said Peg; " What for d'ye want token? 
Besides, just think upon this by-gane year. 

Grain wadna pay the yoking of the pleugh." — 
"What say you to the present?" — "Meal's sae 
dear, 

To make their brose my bairns have scarce 
aneugh." — 
" The devil take the shirt," said Solimaun, 
" I think my quest will end as it began. — 
Farewell, ma'am ; nav, no ceremony, I beg"— 
" Ye'll no be for the linen, then ?" said Peg. 

Now, for the land of verdant Erin, 

The Sultaun's royal bark is steering. 

The Emerald Isle, where honest Paddy dwells, 

The cousin of John Bull, as story tells. 

For a long space had John, with words of thunder. 

Hard looks, and harder knocks, kept Paddy under. 

Till the poor lad, like boy that's flogged unduly, 

Had gotten somewhat restive and unruly. 

Hard was his lot and lodging, youll allow, 

A wigwam that would hardly serve a sow ; 



KABS DBEAU. OBEDIENT WIVES. A LIDKRAL OFFEB. 



Hii landlord, and of middle men two bnce, 

Had icrew'd hii rent up to the Btnrviag place ; 

RU garment wai a top-coat, and an old one, 

His meal wat a potato, and a cold one; 

But still for fun or frolic, and all that, 

In the round world was not the Ualch of Pat. 

The Suliaun saw him on ft botidaj, 

Which la with Paddy atiU a jolly day ; 

When mass is ended, and bis load of Bins 

Confew'd, and Mother Church bath from bcr bfons 

Dealt forth a bonus of imputed merit, 

Then is I'at's time for fancy, wbim, and spirit t 

To jest, to sine, to caper fair and free. 

And dance *a light w leaf upon the tree. 



' " By Uuhomet," said Sultaun Solimaiin, 
"That ragged fellow is our very man I 
Rush in and seize Mm^o not do him hurt, 
But, will fao Hill be, let me have his thirt." 

Shilcia their plan una well-nigh after balking 
(Much leas provocation will set it a-walkinR), 
But the odds that foiPd Hetvules foil'd F 

Whack ; 
Tbeyseiied, and they floor'd, and theyMripp'd 

rp-bubboo ! Paddy had not— a shirt to hi» back 
And the King, disappointed, with sorrow and tl 
Went back lo Sereodib as sad as he came. 




Rab's Drbim. — Bab was in the habit of occaaon- 
slly receiving a small gratuity from one of the cler- 
gymen of the town. From eome cause Or other, 
this had been for eome time neglected. One day 
the clergyman and Rab having met : " Wed, how's 
a' wi' you the day, Rab?" inquired hjs reverence. 
"Deed, »ir, I had an awfu' dream last night. I 
dreamt that I was dead, and that I gaed awa to the 
guid place; and when I cam' there, I knocked at a big 

fett, and after I had Hlood awhile, there was a man, 
believe it was the Apostle Peter, looked owcr the 
top o' the yett, and he cries, ' Who's there ? ' ' It's 
Rab Hamilton,' says I. 'Whore,' says he, 'do ye 
come from ?' Saya I, ' Frae the auld town o' Ayr." 
' Hech, mon,' says he, ' I am glad to eeo you here ; 
for there's neither mon nor woman come here frae 
that place for the last twa or three years.' " 

OnEnmn Witss, — The people of Greenock are 
fond of tellinfi; stories reflecting on the iolaod igno- 
rance of the bodies of Paisley. 

One of these is to the following effect:— Two 
cocks, newly sprang into affluence, were prevailed 
upon by their wives to allow them to pny a vi.iit to 
Winrock, hut only on condition that they were to 
employ their time welt, and take plenty of salt wa- 
ter. Having accompanied their Fpouses to that vil- 
lage, and wen them properly accommodated, the 
two gentlemen relumed '' ' — ' — ~" — "■ '""' — 



appear again for a week, when obscrring a surpris- 
ing apparent decrease in the volume of the ocean. 
owing lo the receim of the tide, one remarked lo 
the other, "Gosh, Jamie, thejaudshae dune weel!" 

A LiBtRAL Orrr.R. — X clergyman was prescnled 
to a living in tlie viiiiiity of Ulafjiow, who had a 
protuberance between the shoulders, ariang from 
diseased spine ; and a corresponding protrusion of 
the chest. The parishioners were opposed to a per- 
son of such ungainly appearance oi-cnpjiiig their 
pulpit. The presentee heard of the dissatisfacllon, 
and, being a pervon of some humor and tact, con- 
vened a meeting of the malcontents, in order to aa- 
ccrtain their objections. " I have heard," said he, 
" that my settlement amongst you Is not likely lo be 
agreeable ; non'. as I am not aware of any objec- 
tion to my opinions or practice — my slender abili- 
ties for such o cbai^e I admit — I should just like, 
as we are all friends and brethren, and have only 
one oljject to ?erve, thot you would slate your ob- 
jections." One glanced to another, which was aa 
signiticanlly returned, and silence prevailed for some 
time, when one eiammereil out, "t>ir, you see — we 

here — dinna like your bodily appearance." " Nei- 
ther do I," was the reply; "and if yo can get it 
repaired, HI be at half the eipense myself." 



\ 



OH 



<; 



{I My- 



V 






DK. KrrCHINEB. 




It greatly ftrieved us to think th«t Dr. Kitchlner 
should Live died before our numerous BToeations 
h*d allowed us nn opportunity of dining with him, 
and Bulyectinff lo the tort-act of our eiperienced 
palate hi* cMmt to itnmortaliti aa a Coolc and a 
Chriatian. The Doetor liad, ire know, a dread of 
Ua — not altogether unalloyed by delight; and on 
the dinner to Ua, vhich he had meditated for near- 
ly a quartiT of a century, he knew and felt muse 
haye hung his repulalion with posterity — his pos- 
thumoni rume. We understand that there U an un- 
eniabed sketch of that Dinner among the Doclor'a 
papers, and that the deeiKn is tnagnificent. Yet, 
perhaps, it is better for his glory that Kilchiner 
«hould have died without attempting to imbody in 
forms the idea of that Dinner. It might have been 
a future. How liable to imperfection the matrritl 
on which be would have had to work ! How dc- 
^ctife the inntruraenlB! Yes — yea!— happier far 
was it for the good old man that he should hove 
fallen asleep nith the undimmed idea of that unat- 
tempted Dinner in his imagination, than, vainly 
contending with the physicu evil inherent in mat- 
ter, have dete<.-ted the Bishop's foot in the first 
course, and died of a broken heurl ! 

"Travelling," it is remarked by our poor dear 
Doctor in tiis Travellor'a Oracle, " n a recreatiou to 
be recommended, especially to tho'ie who^e employ- 
Dients are sedentary — who are engaged in abstract 
studies — wlioso minds have been sunk in a state of 
morbid mflancboly by hypochondriaHis, or, by what 
is worst oFbII, a lack of domestic felicity. Nature, 
however, will nut sulTcr any sudden transition ; and 
therefore it is improper for people accustomed to a 
sedentary life to undertake suddenly a journey, 
during which they will be eiposed 10 long and vio- 
lent jolting. The case here is the same as if one 
accustomed to drink water, should, all at once, 
begin to drink wine." 

Bad tbe Doctor been alive, we should have asked 
him what he meant by "long and violent jolting." 
Jolting is DOW absolutely unknonn in England, and 
it ii of EngUnd the Doctor speaki. No doubt. 



some oceanional jolting might still bo discovered 
among tbe lanes and croiis-roads ; bu', though vio- 
lent, it could not t>e long : and we defy the most 
sedentary gentleman living to be more so, when 
siting In an easy chair by his parlor Grewde, than 
in a cushioned carriage spinning along the tuml^e. 
But for the trees and hciipe-rows all galloping by, 
he would never know that he was himself in motion. 
The truth is, that no gonlloman can be said, nowa- 
days, to lead a eedentui'y l.fe. who is not constantly 
travelling before the insensible touch of U'Adam. 
Look RC the first twenty people that come towering 
by on the roof of a Highflier or a Defiance. What 
can be more sedentary T Only look at that elderly 
gentlemsn with the wig, Gvideotly a parvon, jammed 
in between a brace of buiom virgins on their way 
down to DoDcaster races. Could ho bo more se- 
dentary, during the psalm, in his own pulfrit* 

The Doctor then wisely remarks, that it is " im- 
poBsible to lay down any rule by which to regulate 
the number of miles a mnn may journey in a day, 
or to prescribe the precise number of ounces be 
I ought to cat ; but that nature has given us a very 
excellent guide in a sense of las.'utudc, which is aa 
unerring in sxerciae as the sense of satiety is in 

We say the Doctor wisely remarks, yet not alto- 
gether wisely ; for the rule does not seem to hold 
always good either in exercise Or la eating. What 
more common than to feel one's self very mueb 
fatigued— quite done up as it were, and unwilling 
to stir hand or foot. Up goes a lark in heaven — 
tirn-llra — or suddenly (he breezes blow among the 
clouds, wlio forthwith oil begin campaigning in the 
sky — or, quick as lightning, [he sunshine in a mo- 
ment resuscitates a drowned ilay — or tripping along, 
all by her happy self, to (lie sweet accompaniment 
of her joy-varied Fongs, the woodman's daugliter 
passes by on her nay, with a bnsket in her hand, 
to her father in the forest, who has already laid 
down his axe on the meridian shadow darkening One 
side of the straight stem of an oak, beneath whose 
grove might be drawn up five tcore of plumad 



054 



DB. KITCHINEB. 



cliivalry ! Where is your " sense of lassitude now, 
nature's unerring guide in exercise ?" You spring 
up from the mossy wayside bank, and renewed 
both in mind and body, " rejoicing in nature's joy," 
you continue to pass over houseless moors, by small, 
single, solitary, straw-roofed huts, through villages 
gathered round Stone Cross, Elm Grove, or old 
Monastic Tower, till, unwearied in lith and limb, 
you see sunset beautifying all the west, and drop 
in, perhaps, among the hush of the Cottar's Satur- 
day Xight — for it is in sweet Scotland we are walk- 
ing in our dream — and know not, till we have 
stretched ourselves on a bed of rushes or of heather, 
that " kind nature's sweet restorer, balmy sleep," 
is yet among the number of our bosom friends — 
alas! daily diminishing beneath fate, fortune, the 
sweeping scythe-stroke of death, or the whisper of 
some one poor, puny, idle, and unmeaning word ! 

Then, as to the *^ sense of satiety in eating." It 
is produced in us by three platefuls of hotch-potch 
— and, to the eyes of an ordinary observer, our 
dinner would seem to be at an end. But no— 
strictly speaking, it Is just going to begin. About 
an hour ago did we, standing on the very beautiful 
bridge of Perth, sec that identical salmon, with his 
back-fin just vii<ible above the translucent tide, ar- 
rowing up the Tay, bold as a bridegroom, and 
nothing doubting that he should spend his honey- 
moon among the gravel beds of Kiunaird or Moul- 
eneam, or the rocky sofas of the Tummel, or the 
green marble couches of the Tilt. Wliat has be- 
come now of " the sense of satiety in eating !" John 
— the castors I — mustard — vinegar — cayenne — 
catchur>— peas and potatoes, with a very little but- 
ter — the biscuit called " rusk" — and the memory of 
the hotch-potch is as that of Babylon the Great. 
That any gigot of mutton, exquisite though much 
of the five-year-old blackfaced must assuredly be, 
can, with any rational hopes of success, contend 
against a haunch of venison, will be asf^erted by no 
devout lover of truth. Try the two by alternate 
platefuls, and you will uniformly find that you leave 
off after the venison. That '* sense of satiety in 
eating," of which Dr. Kitchiner speaks, was pro- 
duced by the Tay salmon devoured above — but of 
all the transitory feelings of us transitory creatures 
on our transit through this transitory world, in 
which the Doctor asserts nature will not suffer any 
sudden transitions, the most tran:«itory ever expe- 
rienced by us is " the sense of satiety in eating." 
Tlierefore, we have now seen it for a moment exist- 
ing on the disappearance of the hotch-potch — dying 
on the appearance of the Tay salmon— once more 
noticeable as the last plate of the noble fish melted 
away— extinguished suddenly by the vision of the 
venison — again felt for an instant, and but for an 
instant — for a brace and a half of as fine grouse as 
ever expanded their voluptuous bosoms to bo de- 
voured by hungry love ! Sense of satiety in eating, 
indeed ! If you please, my dear friend, one of the 
backs — ^pungent with the most palate-piercing, 
stomach-stirring, heart-warming, soul-exalting of 
all tastes — the wild bitter-sweet. 

But the Doctor returns to the subject of travel- 
ling — and fatigue. *' When one begins," ho says, 
** to be low-spirited and dejected, to yawn often 
and be drowsy, when the appetite is impaired, when 
the smallest movement occasions a fluttering of the 
pulse, when the mouth becomes dry, and is sensible 
of a bitter taste, teek refreshment and repose, if you 
wish to PBEYUST ILLNESS, already beginning to take 



place." Why, our dear Doctor, illness in such a 
deplorable case as this, 'is just about to end, and 
death is beginning to take place. Thank heaven, 
it is a condition to which we do not remember hav- 
ing very nearly approximated ! Who ever saw us 
yawn ? or drowsy ? or with our appetite impaired, 
except on the withdrawal of the table-cloth? or 
low-spirited, but when the Glenlivet was at ebb? 
Who dare declare that he ever saw our mouth dry ? 
or sensible of a bitter taste, since we gave over 
munching rowans? Put your finger on our wrist, 
at any moment you choose, from June to January, 
from January to June, and by its pulsation you may 
rectify Harrison's or Kendal's chronometer. 

But the Doctor proceeds — " By raising the tem- 
perature of my room to about 66®, a broth diet, 
and taking a tea-s[)Oonful of Ep)som salts in half a 
pint of warm water, and repeating it every half 
hour till it moves the bowels twice or thrice, and 
retiring to rest an hour or two sooner than usual, 
I have often very speedily got rid of colds," etc. 

Why, there may be no great harm in acting as 
above. A tea-spoonful of Ei)6om salts in half a pint 
of warm water, reminds one, somehow or other, of 
Tims. A small matter works a cockney. It is not 
so easy — and that the cocknevs well know — to 
move the bowels of old Christopher North. We do 
not believe that a tea-spoonful of any thing in this 
world would have anv serious effect on old **Iron- 
sides." We should have no hesitation in backing 
him against so much corrosive sublimate, fie 
would dine out on the day he had bolted that quan- 
tity of arsenic ; — and would, we verily bcheve, 
rise triumphant from a tea-spoonful of Prussic acid. 

We could mention a thousand cures for " colds, 
et cetera," more efficacious than a broth diet, a 
warm room, a tea-spoonful of Epsom salts, or early 
roosting. What miy you, our dear Dean, to half a 
dozen tumblers of hot toddy? Your share of a 
brown jug to the same amount? Or an equal quan- 
tity, in its gradual decrease revealing deeper and 
deeper still the romantic Welsh scenery of the 
Devil's Punch-Bowl ? Adde tot small-bearded oys- 
ters, all redolent of the salt-sea foam, and worthy, 
as they stud the Ambrosial brodd, to be licked off 
all at once by the lambent tongue of Neptune. 
That antiquated calumny against the character of 
toasted cheese — that, forsooth, it is indigestible — 
has been trampled under the march of mind ; and 
therefore you may tuck in a pound of double Glou- 
cester. Other patients, laboring under catarrh, may, 
very possibly, prefer the roasted how-towdy — or 
the green goose from his first stubble-field — or why 
not, by way of a little variety, a roasted mawkin, 
midway between hare and leveret, tempting as 
maiden between woman and girl, or, as the Eastern 
poet says, between a frock and a gown? Go to 
bed — ^no need of warming pans — about a quarter 
before one; — you will not hear that small hour 
strike — you will sleep sound till sunrise, sound as 
the Bkick Stone at Scone, on which the Kings of 
Scotland were crowned of old. And if you contrive 
to carry a cold about you next day, you deserve to 
be sent to Coventry by all sensible people — and 
may, if you choose, begin taking, with Tims, a tea- 
spoonful of Epsom salts in a half pint of warm 
water every half hour, till it moves your boweli 
twice or thrice ; but if you do, be your sex, politics, 
or religion what they may, never shall ye be sofflsr- 
ed to contribute even a bit of Balaam to the lfogft> 
sine. 



DB. SITCHINEB. 



SECOND CODSSB. | 

Aboti all thion, coDtlnuea Dr. Kitchioer, "avoid | 
travelfing througn the night, wbich b; iDtemipting 
sleep, u)d eipoeing the bod; to the night ur, a 
•IwaTB pr^udlciat, eren in the mildest weather, 
mnd to the atroogoat comtitutions." Pray, Doctor, 
whkt tUt jou at the night airf If the nigbl air be, 
even in the mildeat weather, prejudicial to the 
MrongeBt coiutltutloos, what do you think becomes 
of the cutle DO a Ibouwnd hiUi F Wb; don't aU 
tbe bulla in Baehan die of the asthma — or look in- 
teresting b7 moonlight in a galloping conaumptioo T 
Naj, if the night air bo so verj fatal, how do you 
account for the longerity of owts 1 Have you 
Derer read of the Chaldean ahepherda witching the 

timcg, do you not know that ercry blessed niglil 
throughout the year, thouaanda of young lads and ' 
Usees meet, either beneath tbe milk-white thorn — 
or on the lea-rig, although the night be ne'er aae i 
wet, and they be ne'er we weary — or under a rock j 
OD the hill — or — no uncommon care — beneath a 
fhnen stack — not of chimneya, but of corn-shenves 
— HIT on a coach of auow^ — and that (hey are all as 
warm as M many piea; while, inalend of feeling | 
what joQ call "the lack of vigor attendant on the 
loss of aleep, which ia as enfeebling and as distress- 
ing as the languor that attends the want of food," 
tbey are, to use a bomely Svolch eiprcaeion, 
" neither too hand nor hind," the cyee of the young 
lads being all as brisk, bold, and bright aa the stars 
in Charles's Wain, while those of the young lasses 
shine with a soft, faint, obscure, but beuutiful lus- 
tre, like tbe dewy Pleiades, orer which nature has 
Insensibly been breathing a mist almost waving and 
waveriog into a veil of clouds f 

Hare you, our dear Doctor, no compassion for 
thoje unfortunate blades, who, noimlct-iioUnitt, 
nmsl remain out perennially all night — we mean 
the blades of grass, and alao the flowcraT Their 
conalltutiona seem often hr from strong; and shut 
jour eyea on a frosty night, and you will bear them 
— we have done so many million times — shlTering, 
»j, absolutely shivering under their coat of hoar- 
frost 1 If the niglil air be indeed what Dr. Kitcbi- 
lier has declared it to be — Lord have mercy on the 
TCgetable worldl What agonies in that field of 
tumipa! Alas, poorSwedes! Tbe imagination re- 
«!Olla from the condition of that club of winter cab- 
bages — and of what materials, pray, must the heart 
of that man be made, who could think but for a 
iDoment on the esse of those carrots, nitbout burat- 
ing into a flood of tears 1 

The Doctor avers that the firm health and fine 
spirits of persona who live in the country, arc not 
more from breathing a purer air, than from enjoy- 
ing plenty of eotmd sleep ; and the most distresBlng 
iniaerj of " this elysium of bricka and mortar," is 
tbe ntreness with which we eqjoy " the sweets of a 
diunber nnbroke." 

Doctor — in the first place, it is somewhat doubt- 
f(d whether or not persons who live in the country 
have firmer health and finer spirits than persons 
who lire in towns — even in London. Whsl kind of 
persona do you mean F You mu»t not be allowed 
to ideet some doien or two of the hairiest among 
tbe rantes — a few chosen rectors whose faces have 
been but lately elevated to the purple — a team of 
ilrebendB issdng sleek from their golden stalls — a 
-*-■--■ "-■— I SMKd bud, the £liie of the 




to compare them, cheek by jowl, with an equal 
numlKr of external objects t^en from the common 
run of cockneys. Thia, Doctor, is manifestly what 

£>ii are ettling at — but you must clap your hand, 
octor, without discrimination, on the great bodj 
of the rural population of England, male and (cmsle, 
and take whatever comes first — 
be it a poor, wrinkled, toothless, 
blear-eyed, palsied bag, tottering 
horiiontally on a stafF. uoder the 
load of a premature old age, (for 
she is not yet fifty,) brought on 
by annual rheumauam and peren- 
nial poverty; — be it a young, 
ugly unmarried woman, far advan- 
ced in pregnancy, and sullenly 
trooping to the alehouse, to meet 
the overseer of the parish poor, 
who, enraged with the unborn 
bastard, is about to force the 
parish bully to marry the pariah 
prostitute ;- ' 
rural inn, with pig eyes peering 
cheeks, the whole machinery of 
hia mouth so deranged by tipp- 
ling that he umultaneously anorts, 

bellied — ahanked like a spindle- 
slrae — and bidding fair to be 
buried on or before tiaCurday 
week; — be it a holf'drunk horse- 
cowper, twinging to and fro in a 
wraprascal, on a bit of broken- 
down bluod that once won a ; 
fifty, every sentence, however ' 
ahorl, having but two intelligible 
words, an oath and a Ue— 4i!b 
heart rotten itith falsehood, and 
hia bowela burned up with 
brandy, ao that sudden death may pull bim from 
bis saddle before he put spurt 
to hia sportiog filly that ahe 
may bilk the tuminke man, and 
carry him more apeedily home 
to beat or murder his poor, 
pale Industrious char-woman 
of B wife , — be it — not a beg- 
or beggars are prohibited 
this parish — but a pauper 
In the sulks, dying on her ^l- 
tance from the poor-rates, which 
altogLther amount in merry 
England but to about tbe paltry 
aum of; more or Icsa, aix mil- 
lions a year — her eon, all the 
while being in a thriving way 
aa a general merchant in the capital of the parish, 
and itith clear profits from his bumncss of three 
hundred pounda per annum, yet auflering the 
mother that bore him and suckled him, aud wash- 
' ed hia chihrish hands, and combed the bumpkin's 
hair, aod gave him Epsoms in a cup when her dear 
1 Jonny-ravr had the belly-ache, to go down, step by 
step, as surelv and us obviously aa one ia scan going 
I down a stair with a feeble holil of the banistem, 
I and stumbling every footfall, down that other Sight 
I of stcpa that consist of flags that are mortal damp 
I and mortal cold, and lead to nothing but a parcel 
! of rotten planks, and orertiead & vault dripping 





DB. ETTCinHER. 




irltb perpetnal molature, peea uid slobber;, luch 
u toads delight in crawting htiTilj Ifarough with 
now and then a bloated leap, and hideoiu thing* 



by laiagination at lea«t, to emit bint angry Boiindfl, 
because the light of da; has hurt their eyeB, and 
the air from the upper vorld weakened the rank 
savory amell of corruption, clothing, as with a pall, 
all the inside walls of the tombs ; — be it a man jet 
in the prime of life U to years, 
eix feel and an inch liigh, and 
measuring round tho cheat forty- 
eight inches, (which Is more, 
reader, than thou dost by sii, 
we bet a sDvereigD, member al- 
though thou even bc'st of the 
Edinburgh Six Feel Cluh,) to 
irhom WaahingtDD Irrin^'s Jack 
Tibbets was but a Tims— but 
then ever ao many game-keepers 
met him all alone in my lord's 
pheasant prcaerre, and though 
two of them died within tJhe 
month, two within the year, and 
two are now in the workhouse — 
one a mere idiot, and tlie other a mailman — botli 
ahaJowa — so terribly were their bodies manlcd, and 
so sorely were their skulls IVactured ; — yet the 
poacher was taken, tried, hulked ; and there he nIs 
now, sunning himself on a bank by the edge of a 
wood whose haunts he must thread no more — for 
the keepers wore Rrim hone-breakers enough in 
their way — and when they had golten him on hia 
liaok, one gouged him like a Ymkoe, and the other 
bit off his nose like a Bolton trotter— and one 
smashed his onfronlU with the nailed liecl of a (wo 
pound wooden clog, a Preston Purrer; — so that 
Uaster AUonby is now far from being a beauty, 
nilh a face of that description atlavhcd to a head 
wagging from side to Bide under a powerful palsy, 
while the Uaodarin drinks damnation to llie Lord 
of the Manor in a hoiTi of eleemosynary ale, hand- 
ed to bim by the village blacksmith, In days of old 
not the worst of the gang, and who, but for a stupid 
jur "■' ^-' 

been hanged for a murderer — at 
■nd hung in chains i — bo it a 
with a pug-nose, small fiery eyes, 
high chceklioneB, bulging lip?, 
and teeth like ewine-tusks, — 
bearded — Hut -breasted u9 a mnii 
— tall, scanibliiig in her gait, 
but swift, and full of wild mo- 
tions in her weather-withered 
amu, all staKing with »iiievrs 
like whipcord — tho Pedestriun 
Post to and fro the markettown 
twelve miles otf— and so power- 
ful a pugilist that she bit Grace 
Uaddoi svnselesa in seven min- 
utes — tried liefore she was cigli- 
teen for child-murder, but not 
hatigcd, although the man-child, 
of which the drab was self-delivered in a ditch, was 
found with blue Snger-marks on lis wind'pipe, 
bloody mouth, and eyes forced out of their sockets, 
buried in the dunghill behind her father's hut — not 
hanged, because a surgeon, originally bred a tow- 
gcldor, twore that be believed the mother bad on- 



consciously destroyed her offspring in the throes of 
travail, if indeed it had ever breathed, for the lungs 
would not BH-lm, he swore in a b«Mn of water — so 
the incestuous murderess was let loose ; her brother 
got hanged in due time after the mutiny at the 
Nore — and her father, the fishmonger — why he 
went red raving mad as if a dog had bitten him — 
and died, as the same surgeon and sow-gelder aver- 
red, of the hydrophobia, foaming at (be mouth, 
gnashing his teeth, and some said curing, but that 
was a calumny, for something seemed to be the 
matter with bis tongue, and he could not speak, 
only splntler — nobody venturing, eicept his amia- 
ble daugiilcr — and in that particular act of filial 
affection she was amiable — to hold fn the article of 
death the old man's head ; — be 
it that niojung Idiot that would 
sit, where she suffered, on, on, ,, 

■ht and day for ever, on 
the Bcliiiame spot, whatever that 
spot might be on nhieh she hap- 
pened f 




figure — that which K 

has for years been, a 

hopeless idiot, was once a gay, "- — 

laughing, dancing, singing girl, 

blue eyes seemed full of light, whether thej 



looked on caith or heaven, the flower 
— her BHcet-henrt — a rational young 
appear — baring leapt out upon her suddenly, 







ing little tjmc for consideration, and being naturally 
eupcrstiliotis, Buppo-'ed to be a shroud, and the 
wearer thereof, who was an active stripling of sound 
flesh and blood, (o be a ghost or skeleton, all one 
horrid rattle of bones ; bo that the trick succeeded 
far beyond the most sanguine expectation of the 
Tailor who played the principal part — and 8en>«, 
feeling, memory, imagination, and reason, were aD 
felled by one blow of feai^aa butcher fcllelh oi— 
while by one of those mysteries, which neither we, 
nor you, nor anybody el»e. can understand, life re- 
mained not only unimpaired, but even invigorated; 
and there Bhe sits, like a. clock wound up to go a 
certain time, the machinery of wbieb being good, 
has not been altogether deranged by the shock 
that sorely cracked the case, and will work till the 
chain is run down, and then it 
will tick no more ;— be it that 
tall, fair, lovely prl. so thin and 
attenuated that all wonder she 
can walk hy heiself— that she la 
not blown away even by the 
gentle summer breeze that woos 
the hectic of her check^dying 
all see — and none better than 
her poor old niotbci^ — and yet 
herself thoughtless of (he com- 
ing doom, and cheerful as a nest- 
building bird — while her lover, 
100 deep in despair (O be betray- 
ed into (ears, as he carries her 
to her couch, each successive 
dav, feels the dear and dreadful burden liB^tler and 
lighter In hia arma. Small Mrength will it need to 




DB. KirCIItNEK. 



687 



■apport her b'wrt Tbe coffln, u if emptj, will be 
lowered uofiiU by the buida that bold thou rueful 

THIED COUBSE. 
Eat:50 thus briefly inalructed trsTellen lioir to 
get m look U Lions, the Doctor auddetiljr eicUima 
— "lurKiMiB, BBWiBK Or JWOB I" "There have," 
he sajs," been many ■rgumpQtg.proandom.ontbe 
drekiiful dbeue their bite producea — it in enough 
to prove that mnltitudea of men, woinea Bud chil- . 
dren httTO died in consequence of having been I 
bitten by dogs. Wb»[ iIocb it luntler wbether they ' 
were the victims of bodily disoiue nr mental irriu- 
tion I The life of tbe moBt humble human beinf; ia . 
of more value than all the doga in tbe world — dare 
the moat brutal cynic say olherwiac ?" 

Dr. KilcluQer alwayi irarellcd, it appears, in 
chvies; and a cbnine of one kind or other, he re- 
commends to all his brethren of mankind. Why, 
then, this Intense fear of the canine Bpecieaf Who 
flTer WW a Dud dog leap into the mail-coach, or i 
even a gig? Tbe creature when »o afflicted, hangs 
hii head, and goea snapping right and left at pedes- 
trians. Poor people like ua, who must walk, may 
wen liMU' hydrophobia — though, thank bearen, we | 
h«T« neTer, during Iho course of a tolerably long and 
welt-ipent life, been so much aa once bitten by "(he 
rabid animaH" But what have rivh authors, who 
loll in carriages, to dread from doga, who always 
go on foot! We cannot credit the very sweep- 
mg asrcrtion, that multitudes of men, women, and 
children have died in coneequcnce of being bitten 
by doga. Even tbe newepiipera do not run up the 
•mount above a doien per annum, from which you 
may safely deduct two-thirda. Now, four men, 
women and children, are not "a multitude." Of 
those four, we may set down two aa problematical 

having died, it ts true, in, but not of liydrophobia 

— states of mind and body wide aa the poles asun- 
der. He who drinks two bottles of pure spirits 
erery day be buttons and unbuttona his breeches, 
generally dies ia a state of hydrophobia — for ho 
abhorred water, and knew instinctively the jug 
containing that insipid element. But he never 
dies at all »/ bvdroiAobia, there being evidence to 
prove that for twenty years be had drunk nothing 
bat brandy. Suppose we are driven to confesB the 
other two — why, one of them waa an old woman of 
eighty, who was dying aa fast aa Hhc could hobble, 
at the very time she thought herHclf bitten — and 
the other a mnety-year old brat, in hooping cough 
and meaalea, who, had there not been auch a quaci- 
mped as a dog created, would have worried itgclf 
to death before evening, so lamentably had its 
education been neglectud, and so dan!;erous an 
accom|riiihment ia an impiah temiier. The twelve 
ca*e« fbr the year of that moat horrible diseaae, 
hydrophobia, have, we flatter ourselves, been ealis- 
bctorily disposed of — eight of the alleged deceased 
being at thia moment engaged at various band icrafta 
on low wages indeed, but still such a.4 enable the 
iDdnctriou* to live— two havinj; died of drinliing — 
ona of extreme old age, and one of a complication 
of compbunts incident to childhood, llieir violence 
baTing, in this particular instance, been aggravated 
byneglect and a devilish temper. When!, now, the 
" maltitnde" of men, women, and children, who 
have died in conaeqnenco of being bitten by mad 



fleni 



itb ivadai— ft mad dog la a bugbeui 



have walked many hundred times the diameter and 
the circumference of this our habllable globe— along 
■II roads, public and private — with atiles or turn- 
pike — metropolitan streets and suburban paths — 
and at all seasons of the revolving year and day ; 
but never, aa we padded the hoof along, met we nor 
were overtaken by greyhound, mastiff, or cur, la a 
state of hydrophobia. We have many million times 
seen Iheni with (heir tongues lolling out about a 
yard — their sides panting — flag struck — and the 
ntiole dog shoeing aymptoma of severe disIrcBS. 
That such travellers were not mad, we do not SB- 
sert — they mar have been mad — but they certainly 
were fiitigued; and the difference, we hope, iaotlen 
couHderable between weariness and insanity. Dr. 
Kilchiner, had he seen such dogs as we have seen, 
would have fkiinlod on the spot. He would have 
raised the country apainat the harmless jog-trotter. 
I'itchforks would have gleamed in the setting son, 
and the floner of the agricultural youth of a mid- 
land country, forming a levy tn matit, would have 
offered battle to a turnspit. Tbe Doctor, sitting in 
hia eoach — like Kapoleon at Waterloo — would have 
cried " Tout ttt perdu — mum jut pfutf" — and rc- 
galloping to a provincial town, would have found 
refuge under the gateway of the Hen and Chickens. 
"The life of the most humble human being," 
quoth the Doctor, " ia of more value tiian all the 
duga in the world — dare the most brutal cynic say 
Olherwiset" 

Ibis question is not put to us; for so far from 
being the matt brutal cynic, we do not belong to 
the cynic school at all — being an Eclectic, and onr 
philosophy composed chiefly of Stoicism, Epicurean- 
ism, and Pcripuleticism — with a Soc, pure, clear, 
bold dash of Plalonicisni. The moat brutal cynic, 
if now alive and snBrling, must therefore answer 
for himeelf — while we tell the Doctor, that so far 
from holding, with him, that the life of the most 
humble human being is of more value than all the 
dugs in tlie world, we, on the contrary, verily be- 
lieve that there is many an humble dog whose life 
far tmusccnda in value the lives of many men, 
women, and children. Whether or not dogs 
have aoula, ia a queation in philosophy never yet 
solved ; although we have ouraelves no doubt on 
, the subject, and firmly believe (bat they hare souls. 
But the queation, aa put by tbe Doctor, Is not 
about souls, but about Utcb; and as the hunisn 
aoul does not die when the human body does, the 
death of an old woman, middle-aged man, or yoong 
child, ia no such very great calamity, either to 
lliemaelvea or to the worid. Belter, perhaps, (hat 
' all the doga now alive should be massacred, to pre- 
I vent hydrophobia, (ban (but a human soul should 
I be lost ; — but not a rinple human soul ia going to 
be lost, although the wiiolc canine species should 
become iminne to-morrow. Kow, would (be Doctor 
bavelud one hand on his heart and tbe other On bis 
Bible, and take a solemn oaih that rather than one 
old woman of a century and a quarter should aud- 
; denty be cut off by (he bile of a mad dog, bo would 
' have signed the warrant of execution of all the 
packs of harriera and rox-honnds, all tbe pointers, 
spaniels, setters, and cockers, all the stag-bound^ 
grcylioundi, and hircbers, all the Newfouiidlandera, 
abepherd-doga, miuttifTs, bull-doga, and terriers, the 
infinite generation of mongrels and crosses Inclu- 
ded, in Great Britain and Ireland — to say nothing 
' of the sledge-drawers in Kamachatka. and in the 
I realms dov-moving near the Pole t To oleDch the 



658 



DB. KITCHINER. 



argument at once — ^What are all the old women in 
Europe, one-half of the men, and one-third of the 
children, when compared, in value, with any one of 
Christopher North's Newfoundland dogs — Fro— 
Bronte — or 0*Bronte ? Finally, does he include in 
his sweeping condemnation the whole brute crea- 
tion, lions, tigers, panthers, ounces, elephants, 
rhinoceroses, hippopotami, camelopardales, zebras, 
quaggas, cattle, horses, asses, mules, cats, the 
ichneumon, cranes, storks, cocks-of-the-wood, geese, 
and how-towdies ? 

" Semi-drowning in the sea" — ho continues — 
"and all the pretended specifics, are mere delu- 
sions — there is no real remedy but cutting the part 
out immediately. If the bite be near a bloodvessel, 
that cannot always be done, nor when done, how- 
ever well done, will it always prevent the miserable 
Tictim from dying the most dreadful of deaths. 
Well might St. Paul tell us * beirare of dogn* First 
Epistle to Fhilippians, chap. iii. v. 2. 

Semi-drowning in the sea is, we grant, a bad 
specific, and difficult to bo administered. It is not 
possible to tell a priori, how much drowning any 
particular patient can bear. What is mere semi- 
drowning to James, is total drowning to John : — 
Tom is easy of resuscitation — Bob will not stir a 
muscle for all the Humane Societies in the United 
Kingdoms. To cut a pound of flesh from the rump 
of a fat dowager, .who turns sixteen stone, is with- 
in the practical skill of the veriest bungler in the 
anatomy of the human frame — to scarify the flesh- 
less spindle-shank of an anti({uated spinstress, who 
lives on a small annuity, might be beyond tlie scal- 
pel of an Abemethy or a Liston. A large blood- 
vessel, as the Doctor well remarks, is an awkward 
neighbor to the wound made by the bite of a mad 
dog, " when a new excision has to be attempted" — 
but will any Doctor living inform us how, in a thou- 
sand other cases besides hydrophobia, *' the misera- 
ble victim may always be prevented from dying?" 
There are, probably, more dogs in Britain than 
horses ; yet a hundred men, women, and children 
are killed by kicks of sane horses, for one by bites 
of insane dogs. Is the British army, therefore, to 
be deprived of its left arm, the cavalry ? Is there 
to be no flying artillery ? What is to become of 
the horse-marines? 

FOURTH COURSE. 

The Doctor, of course, is one of those travellers 
who believe, that unless they use the most inge- 
nious precautions, they will be uniformly robbed 
and murdered in inns. The villains steal upon you 
during the midnight hour, when all the world is 
asleep. They leave their shoes down stairs, and 
leopard-like, ascend with velvet, or — what is al- 
most as noiseless — worsted steps, the wooden stairs. 
True, that your breeches are beneath your bolster 
— ^but that trick of travellers has long been "as 
notorious as the sun at noonday ;" and although 
you are aware of your breeches, with all the ready 
money perhaps that you are worth in this world, 
, eloping from beneath your parental eye, you in 
vain try to cry out — for a long, broad, iron hand, 
with ever so many iron fingers, is on your mouth ; 
another, with still more numerous digits, compress- 
es your windpipe, while a low hoarse voice, in a 
whisper to which Sarah Siddons's was empty air, on 
pain of instant death enforces silence from a man 
unable for his life to utter a single word ; and after 
pulling off all the bed-clothes, and then clothing 



you with curses, the ruffians, whose accent betrays 
them to be Irishmen, inflict upon you divers waJn- 
ton wounds with a blunt instrument, probably a 
crow-bar — swearing by Satan and all his sainta, 
that if you stir an inch of your body before day> 
break, they will instantly return, cut your throat, 
knock out your brains, sack you, and carry you off 
for sale to a surgeon. Therefore you must use 
pocket door-bolts, which are applicable to almost 
all sorts of doors, and on many occasions save the 
property and life of the traveller. The corkscrew 
door-fastening the Doctor recommends as the sim- 
plest. This is screwed in between the door and 
the door-post, and unites them so firmly, that great 
power is required to force a door so fastened. They 
are as portable as common corkscrews, and their 
weight docs not exceed an ounce and a half. The 
safety of your bed-room should always be careftilly 
examined ; and in case of bolts not being at hand, 
it will be useful to hinder entrance into the room 
by putting a table and a chair upon it against the 
door. Take a peep below the bed, and into the 
closets, and every place where concealment is pos- 
sible — of course, although the Doctor forgets to 
suggest it, into the chimney. A friend of the Doc- 
tor's used to place a bureau against the door, and 
" thereon he set a basin and ewer in such a posi- 
tion as easily to rattle, so that on being shook, they 
instantly bacanie mo/to agitato^ Upon one alarm- 
ing occasion this device frightened away one of the 
chambermaids, or some other Paulina Pry, who at- 
tempted to steal on the virgin sleep of the travelling 
Joseph, who all the time was hiding his head be- 
neath the bolster. Joseph, however, believed it 
was a horrible midnight assassin, with mustaches 
and a dagger. " The chattering of the crockery 
gave the alarm, and the attempt, after many at- 
tempts, was abandoned." 

With all these fearful apprehensions in his mind. 
Dr. Kitchiner must have been a man of great 
natural personal courage and intrepidity, to liave 
slept even once in his whole lifetime from home. 
What danger must we have passed, who used to 
plump in, without a thought of damp in the bed, or 
scamp below it — closet and chimney uninspected, 
door unbolted and unscrewed, exposed to rape, 
robbery, and murder! It is mortifying to think 
that we should be alive at this day. Nobody, male 
or female, thought it worth their while to rob, rav- 
ish, or murder us ! There we lay, forgotten by the 
whole world — till the crowing of cocks, or the ring- 
ing of bells, or blundering Boots insisting on it that 
we were a Manchester Bagman, who had taken an 
inside in the Heavy at five, broke our repose, and 
Sol, laughing in at the unshuttered and uncurtained 
window, showed us the floor of our dormitory, not 
streaming with a gore of blood. We really know 
not whether to be most proud of having been the 
favorite child of Fortune, or the neglected brat of 
Fate. One only precaution did we ever use to take 
against assassination, and all the other ills that flesh 
is heir to, sleep where one may, and that was to 
say inwardly a short fervent prayer, humbly thank- 
ing our Maker for all the happiness — let us trust it 
was innocent — of the day ; and humbly imploring 
his blessing on all the hopes of to-morrow. For, at 
the time we speak of we were young — and every 
morning, whatever the atmosphere might be, rose 
bright and beautiftil with hopes that, far as the eyes 
of the soul could reach, glittered on earth's, and 
heaven's, and life's horizon 1 



But Buppose that after all this trouble to get liim- 
aelf bolted and (crewed into a paradisiacal tabci^ 
nacle of t, donnitor<r, there bnd suddenlj rung 
through the house the crj of Fiai — Fiai — FiriI 
bow was Dr. Eilchincr to get out T Tables, bureaus, 
benches, cbaira, blocked up the oaly daor^--Bll laden 
with wsah-hnnd baaiua and other uwnsils, the whole 
crockery, shepherdesses of the chimcej- piece, dou- 
ble-barrelled pistols with spring bajionels rcadj to 
ahoot and stab, without diatinctioa of pcraous, as 
their proprietor was madl; seeking to etwupe the 
roorinf; flanies! Both windowa are irun-louud, 
with all (heir shutters, and over and above liglitlf 
liuteDed with " the corkscrew- fastenicig, the niiaplest 
we hsTC Been." The wiud-boanl in in like man- 
ner, and by the game unhappy contriTance. 
flrmlj jammed into the Jawa of the chimney, so 



the Princi[na. Let the man, quoth he, " who cornea 
home btigued by bodily eienioD, especially if he 
feels heated by it, throw his legs upon a chair, and 
remain tjuiet, tranquil and composed, that the 
energy which has been dispersed to the eilremitiea 
may have lime lo return to the stomach, when it 
is required," To all this we say — Fudge ! The 
sooner you gel hold of a leg of roarted mutton the 
better; but meanwhile, off rapidly with a pot of 
porter — then leiaurel.v on with a clean shirt — wa^ 
your face and hands in gelid — none of your tepid 
water — There is do harm done if jou should (hare 
—then keep walking up and down (he parlor rather 
impatiently, for such conduct is natural, and in all 
things act agreeably to nature — stir up the waiter 
with Bomc original jest by way of stimulant, and to 
gite the knave's face a well-pleased stare— and 




•grew to the Doctor up the vent U wholly denied 
— DO Grc-engioe lo the town — but one under ref-'- 
There has not been a drop of rain for a monlh. 



room ii filling with aomcthiiig more deadly than 
back-tmoke. A shrill voit'c in heard crying — 
" Namber Ste will be burned alive ! Number five 
wiU bo burned alive 1 Is Ihcro no possibiiEly of 
MTing the life of Number five f" The Doctor falls 
down before the barricade, and is stretched all his 
baplesH length fainting on the floor. At last the 
door is burst open, and landlord, landlady, chaniber- 
maid, and boots — each in a diBTercnl key — from 
manly bass to childish treble, demand oF Kumher 
five if he be a murderer or a madman — for, gentle 
reader, it has been a Dream. 

Thus he says that no perfon should sit dawn to a 
beuty meal immediately after any great eienion, 
rilher of mind or body — that ia, one mi;;lil Buy, 
•Iter a few mites of Flinlimnon or a few pagca of 



never doubting "that the energy which has been 
dixperoed 10 the eitremilics" has had ample time 
to return lo the glomach, in God's name fall to! 
and lake care that (he second coume shall not ap- 
pear till there is no vi'Slige left of the fini — a 
second course being looked upon by the judicious 
moralist and pcdctrian very much in the light in 
which the poet liaa made a celebrated character 



To prove how astonisbingly our Btrengtb may be 
diminbihed by indolence, the Doctor tells us, (hat 
meeting a gentleman who had lately relumed from 
India, to his inqidry after his heullb be replied, 
"Whv, bcllCT — better, thank ye — I think 1 begin 
to feel some symptoms of the return of a little 
Eiigtiiih energy. l)u you know that the day before 
ycptorJay I was in such high npirits, and felt so 
Btn>ng, I actually put on one of luy Blockings mv- 
self?" 



EXTRA(T3 FBOU " TOM CRIMGLe's LOG." 




EXTRACTS FROM "TOM CRINGLE'S LOG. 



Ohk of onr crcir undertook to be the guide to ihe 
■pt'nt'a lioui^. We trrived before jl. It »as a Urge 
inaD^ion. *iid U'O could ^e llgbte gtimnicriii^ in the 
Kround -floor ; but it vu guU; Lit up uloft. Tlic houso 
i[M.>ir «iooil back about tweutj feet frum tba itrcet, from 
vhivh It WM Bepuralcd by an iron railing. 

Wo knocked d the outer gale, but no one anewertil. 
At length our bUek guide found out a bell pull, and 
prcKUDlfy tbe clang of a bell resounded throughout tlia 
■uanaioQ. Still no one uigwered. I pushed sgainet the 
door, tad found it itaa open, and Hr. Treenail and luj- 
adf immeduitely aaceniled a flight of tii. marblo eteps, 
and stood in the lover piaz», iritli the ball, or loMer 
vestibule, before u«. We entered. A Terj well-droai-ed 
JDg at her work at > small 
laUe, being with two young girig of the aanie complei 
instantly rose to receive us. 

"licg pardon," aud Mr. Trecniiil, "pniy, is this Mr. 

" Ves, air, it is." 

"Will you have the poodnesa to say if he he at home'" 

*'0h yea, sir, he is dere upon dinner will LOmpaiiy " 
wld Ihe lady. 

" Well," eonllnaed the lieutenant, " Bay to turn that ai 
iilGcer of hia majoaty's aloop Torch Is below, with dm 
patches for tbe admiral." 

"Surely, dr, — surely," the dark Isdy continued ' 
I'lw Die, ar; and dat amall geutlenmn, — [ThomDH t 
glc, EBquire. no leas !]— him will belter follow 

We Wn the room, and, turning to tho ri^lit, 
ilic lover piazui of the house, fronting the north \. 
larp> clumsy (tair oecupied the caste rnm oat end Hith i 
m;ii'iilva mahogany balutitradc, but the whole affair bilu 
■ns tetj ill lighted. The brown lady preceded ua an I 
planting herself at the liouom of tbe st ' 
Khimt to some one above — 

"Tobyl Toby I buecra gpntlemen ariivc, Tob\ " Bi 
no Toby responded to the c.ill. 

"Uy dear madam," said Treenail, "I have Ltlle (in 
for cirremonj. Pray usher us up into Ur a \n\ 



ETtBACTB TSOit "tOH CBIKOLs's LOO." 



661 



rekched the first bndiog-pUce, when we beard a 
noise ai of two negroes vrangLing on the steps 

"Tou ruckir tm^ out one, "take dat; larn 
you for to leal mf wittal!" — tben a sharp crack, 
as if it had emote the culprit across the pate ; where- 
upon, like a shot, a black fellow, ia a banddoine 
liverj, trundled down, pursued by another Brrvant 
with a large gilTer ladle in his haod, willi which he 
was belaboring the fugitive over his Bint-hard skull, 
right against our hostess, with the drumstick of a 
turke; in his band, or ralhetia bU mouth. 

"Top, you tiefl — Top, jou tief! — for mc piece 
dat," sboiiled the pursuer. 

"Ton dam rascal 1" quoth the dame. But the 
bad no time to utter another word, before the fugi- 
tire pitched, with all hia weight, right againnt her ; 
and at the Tery moment another serrant came 
trundling down with a large traj-full of all kinds of 
meats — and I eipecially rtmcmber that two large 
crystal stands ofjellies conipoecd part ufhisluod — 
■o there we were regularly capsiied, and caught all 
of a beap in the dark landing-place, half nay up 
the stsirs ; and down the oilier Sight tumbled our 
guide, with Hr. Treenail and myself, and the two 
btaokiM, OD the top of ber, roIUng in the descent 
OTsr, or rather into, another large niahogany tray 
which bad just been carried out, with a tureen of 
turtle soup m it, and k dish of roast-beef, andplatc- 
flillB of land-cn^s, and the Lord knows what all be- 

The crash reached the ear of the landlord, «bo 
was seated at the head of bis table in the upper 
[Hazia, a long gallery about tifty feet long by four- 
teen wide, and he immediately roae and ordered bis 
butler (o take a light. When he came down to 
ascertain (be cause of the uproar, I shall never for- 
ge! the scene. 

There was, first of all, mine host, a remarkably 
neat peiBODSge, standing on the polished mahogany 
stair, throe .steps shore ois servant, who was a very 
well'dressed reapcclable elderly negro, with a ean- 
dle in each hand ; and beneath him, on the landing- 
place, lay two trays of Ttands, broken tureens of 
soup, fragments of dishes, and fractured glasses, 
and a chaos of eatables and drinkables, and table 
gear scattered all about, amidst which lay scram- 
bling mj lieuteDanC aod myself, the brown house- 
keeper, and tbs two negro serrsnis, all more or 
less covered with grarj and wine dregH. 

Speaking of telegraphing, I wilt relate an anec- 
dote here, if you will wiut until I mend my pen. I 
had landed at Greenwich wharf on duty — this was 
the ncareal p«Mnt of communication between Port 
Koyal and the admiral's pen — where, finding the 
flag'lieutenant, ho droTe me up in his kcturcen to 
lunch. While we were regaling oursclven. the old 
tignal-man came into the piazza, and nilh several 
most remarkable obeutanceB, ;;ave us to know that 
there were flags hoisted on Ihc signal maat, at the 
mouDtalu settlemeDt.of which he could make nothing 
— Ilw appermoat was neither the intcrrogatire, the 
affinmtiTC, dot the negative, nor In fact, any thing 
that with the book he could make sense of 

" Odd enough," said the heulenant; "hand me 
the ^asi," kod he peered away for half a minute. 
" CiMfaimd me, if I can make heads or (ails of it 
dtber; there. Cringle, what do you think? Bow 
doyoneonslmeltf" 

I took the telewope. Uppermost (her« was 



hoisted on tbs ^gnal-mast a large tablecloth, not 
altogether immaculate, and under it a towel, as I 
guessed, for it was too opaque for bunting, and too 
while, although 1 could not affirm that it was fresh 
out of the fold either. 

" I am puzzled," said I, as I sped away again. 
Meanwhile, there was no acknowledgment made at 
our Bemaphorc — "There, down they ao," I con- 
tinued — " Wiiy, it must be a miatake— Stop, hero's 
a new batch going up above the green trees — There 
goes the tablecloth once more, and the towel, and 
^— deuce take nie, if I can compare the Uiwer- 
most to any thing but a dishclout — why, it must be 
a dishclout." 

The fiags. or substitutes for them, slretmed an- 
other minute in (he breeze, but as there was still 
□o answer made from our end of the string, they 
were once more hauled down. We wailed another 
minute — "Why, here goes tbo same signal up 
a|:ain. tablecloth, towel, dishclout, and alt— What 
the diable have we got liereF A red ball, two pen- 
nants under— What can that mean* Ball— it ts 
the hoiiiict-roiigc, or 1 am a Dutchman, witb two 
short ntreamers" — Another look — "A red night 
cup and a pa r of stOLkings by all that It portent 
ouB eitlamied I 




"Ah, I see, I seel" said the lieutenant, laughiii); 
— '' wgnal.man, acknowledge it." 

It was done, and down came the Bags in a trice. 
It appeared, on inquiry, that the washing cart, 
which ought 10 have been sent up that niorniuB;, 
had been forgotten; and the admiral and hia 
secretary having ridden out, there was no one who 
could innke the proper signal for it. So. the old 
hou^ckec]ier took this singular method of having 
the cart dispatched, and it wa.i sent off accordingly. 

At six o'clock we drove to Ur. Fepperpot Wag- 

tail'x. The party was a bachelor's one, and, when 

walked up the front steps there was o ' 



EXTRACTS FBOM "tOM 0BnraLE*8 LOO." 



-viiiton, bU tittiog vith their legs cocked up, thdr 
teei r^Ktiag od > sort of Burbase, above which the 
jalouslei, or Diovable blind* of the piaiia were fixed. 

I TU introducEd to (he whole party terialim — 
and aji each of (be cock-leea dropped his tramt, he 
tt*rted up, caught hold of mj hand, aod wrung it 
aa if I bad been his dearest and oldeat friend. 

Were I to deaignnte Jamaica aa a commnDity, I 
would call It a hatid-eb ailing people. I have often 
lauahed heartily upon seeing two croDics meeting 
in Uie Btrsets of Kingston, after a temporary Bcpa- 
ration; when about pisloi-ebot aaiinder, both would 
begin to tug and rug at the right hand glove, but it 
la frequently a mighty seriona aSkir io chat hissing 
hot climate to get the gauntlet off; (hey approach, 
— one, a abort uriiaoe little man, who would not 
diigrace 6l. James'a etreet, 1>eing more liiln-dried 
and ica> moist in hia corporeals than his country 
friend, haa contrived to extract hia paw, and holda 
it out io act to shake : 

"Ahl how do joQ do, Ratoonf quotfa the 
Kingston man. 

" Quite well. Shingles," rejoins the glottd, a stout 
T«d-faced sudoriferous yam-fed planter, dressed in 
blue-whiW jean trousers and waistcoat, with long 
Hessian Iraots drawn up to his knee over the former, 
and a span-new square-skirted blue coatee, with 
lots of clear brass buttons ; a broad-brim nied black 
silk hat worn while at the edge of the crown — 
weanng a very amall neckcloth aboi o which shoots 
up an enormous shirt collar the peaks of which 
might serve for winkers to a starting horse and 




don't let go — thej cling 1ik« sucker fish, and talk 
and wallop about, and throw themaeWe* back and 
laugh, and then another Jiggeryjiggery. 
On honoback, this custom is coaspicuoualj ridi- 



goodish horse, with bis negro boy astern of 
him on a mute, in clean frock and trousers, and nnsrt 
glazed hat with broad gold tiaud, wilh massa's nm- 
brella in a leathern case sluns acroas his shoidders, 
and his portmanteau behind him on a mail pillion 
covered with snow-white sheep's fleece — suddcoly 
they would pull up on recogniiing each other, when 
lucking tbeir whips under their arms, or crosdng 
them in their teeth, it may be — they would com- 
mence the rugging and riving operation. In this 
case — Rhingle^ bit of blood swerves, we may as- 
sume — Ratoon rides at him-^hingle fairly tuma 
tail, and starts out at full speed, Ratoon thundering 
in his rear with stretch ed-out arm ; and it does 
happen, I am assured, Ibat the hot pursuit often- 
times continues for a mile, before the desired clap- 
perclaw is obtained. But when two lusly planters 
meet on horseback, then indeed, Greek meets 
Greek. Tbcy begin the interview by shouting to 
each other, while fifty yards off, pulling away at 
the gloves all the while^"How are you, Canetopf 
— glad to SCO you, Canetop. Row do you do, / 
hopeP "How are you, Yamfu, my dear fellow?" 
their horses fretting and jumping all the time — and 
if the Jack Spaniards or gadtlies be rife, they hare, 
even when denuded for the shake, to spur each 
other, more Uke a £night Templar and a Earaecn 
charging in mortal combat, than two men merely 
struggling to be civil ; and after all they have often 
to get their black servants alongside to hold their 
horses, for thait (hey must, were they to break 
thcirnecks in Iheaitempt. Why they won't shake 
hands with their gloves on, 1 em sure / can't tell. 
It would be much cooler and nicer — Iota of Scoiti- 
mm m the community, too. 

This hand-shaking, however, was followed by an 
invitation to dinner from each individual In the 
company. I looked at Captain Transom, as much 
as to say, " Can they mean ua to take tbem at their 
word?" He nodded. 

" We are sorry, that being under orders to go to 
fea on Sunday morning, neither Ur. Cringle nor 
myself can have the pleasure of accepting such kind 



Well, V 



le back jou know — 



ied.1 



carrving a large whip in his hand — "Quite well, 
my dear fellow," while he pertriBts in dragging at it 
— the other hnnto uU the white standing in (lie ab- 
surd position of a finger post — at length off comes 
the glove — piecemea!, perhaps — a finger first, for 
instance — then a thumb — at length, they tackle to, 
and shake each other Uke the very devil — not a 
Fober pump-handle shake, but a regular jiggery 
j'PRery, as if they were trying to dislocate each 
other's arms — and, confound t^m, ereo then they 



And 1 won't be denied," quolh a second. 
Liberty Hull, you know, so to me you uiuH 
le, no ceremony," said a third — and so on. 

At lengtli, no less a man drove up to the door 

than Judge , When he drew up, tiis servant 

who was sitting beliind on a small projection of the 
ketureen, cnme round nnd look a parcel out of the 
gig, closely wropped in a blanket — " Bring that 
carefully in, Leonidas," eaid the judge, wiio now 
slumped up stairs with n tmatl saw in bis hand- 
He received the parect, and. laying it down care- 
fully in a. comer, lie placed the saw on it, and then 
came up and ^ook hands with Wagtail, and made 
his bow very gracefully. 

" Wbal — can't you do without your ice mud soar 
claret yet ?" said Wagtail. 

"Kever mind, never mind," said Ibe Judge; and 
here dinner being announced, we all adjourned to 
the dining-room, where a very splendid entertain- 



EXTBACn FBOU "TOM OBINOLE's LOO." 



668 



raent waa set out, to which we mt to, and in the 
end, as it will appear, we did the utmost justice to it. 

The wiiies were most exquisite. Madeira, for 
instance, neyer can be drank in perfection any 
where out of the tropics. — ^You may have the wine 
as good at home, although I doubt it, but then you 
have not the climate to drink it in — I would say 
the same of most of the delicate French wines — 
that is, those that will stand the voyage — Burgundy 
of course not included ; but never mind, let us get 
along. 

All the decanters were covered with cotton bags, 
kept wet with saltpetre and water, so that the 
evaporation carried on powerfully by the stream of 
air that flowed across the room, through the open 
doors and windows, made the fluids quite as cool 
as was desirable to worthies sitting luxuriating with 
the thermometer at 80 or thereby ; yet, from the free 
current, I was in no way made aware of this degree 
of heat by any oppressive sensation ; and I found 
in the West Indies as well as in the East, although 
the wind in the latter is more dry and parching, 
that a current of heated air, if it be moderately 
dry, even with the thermometer at 95 in the shade, 
is really not so enervating or oppressive as I have 
found it in the stagnating atmosphere on the sunny 
side of Pall Mall, with the mercury barely at 75. 
A cargo of ice had a little before this arrived at 
Kingston, and at first all the inhabitants who could 
afford it, iced every thing, wine, water, cold meats, 
fruits, and the Lord knows what all ; tea, I believe, 
among other things, (by the way, I have tried this, 
and it M a luxury of its kind ;) but the re^lar old 
stagers, who knew what was what, and bad a regard 
for their interiors, soon began to eschew the ice in 
every way, saving and excepting to cool the water 
they washed their thin faces and hands in ; so uw 
had no ice, nor did we miss it ; but the Judge had 
a plateful of chips on the table before him, one of 
which he every now and then popped into his long 
thin bell-glass of claret, diluting it, I should have 
thought, in rather a heathenish manner; but rCim- 
porte, he worked away, sawing off pieces now and 
then from the large lump in the blanket, (to save 
the tear and wear attending a fracture,) which was 
handed him by his servant, so that by eleven 
o*clock at night, allowing for the water, he must 
have concealed his three bottles of pure claret, be- 
sides garnishing with a lot of white wines. In fine, 
we all carried on astonishingly, some good singing 
was given, a practical joke was tried on now and 
then, by Fyall, and we continued mighty happy. 
As to the singing part of it, — the landlord, with a 
bad voice, and worse ear, opened the rorytory^ by 
volunteering a very extraordinary squeak ; fortu- 
nately it was not very long, but it gave him a pica 
to screw a song out of his right-hand neighbor, 
who in turn acquired the same right of compelling 
the person next to him to make a fool of himself; 
at last, it came to Transom, who, by-the-by, sung 
exceedingly well, but he had more wiue than usual, 
and essayed to coquet a bit. 

"Bring the wet night-cap!" quoth our host. 

" Oh, b it that you are at ?" said Transom, and 
he sung as required ; but it was all pearls before 
swine, I fear. 

At last, we stuck fast at Fyall. Music ! there wns 
not one particle in his whole composition ; so the 
wet nightcap already impended over hin^, when I 
sung out, ** Let him tell a story, Mr. Wagtail ! Let 
hbn ten a story I*' 



** Thank you, Tom," said Fyall; **I owe you % 
good turn for that, my boy." 

"Fyall's story — Mr. Fyail's story!" resounded on 
all hands. Fyall, glad to escape the song and wet 
night-cap, instantly began. 

*' Why, my friends, you all know Isaac Grimm, 
the Jew snulT merchant and cigar maker, in Har- 
bour street Well, Isaac had a brother, Ezekiel 
by name, who carried on business in Cura9oa ; you 
may have heard of him too. Ezekiel was onen 
down here for the purpose of laying in provisions, 
and purchasing dry goods. You all know that f" 

'* Certainly!" shouted both Captain Transom and 
myself in a breath, although we had never heard of 
him before. 

** Hah, I knew it ! Well then, Ezekiel was very 
rich ; he came down in August last, in the Pickle 
schooner, and, as back luck would have it, he fell 
sick of the fever. *■ Isaac,* quoth Ezekiel, ' I am 
wery shcck ; I tink I shall tie !' * Hope note, dear 
proder ; you hab no vive nor shildir ; pity you should 
tie, Ezekiel. Ave you make your vil, Ezekiel?* 

* Yesh ; de vill is make. I leavish every ting to 
you, Isaac, on von condition, dat you send my pody 
to be pury in Cura^oa. I love dat place ; twenty 
years since I left de Minories ; all dat time I cheat 
dere, and tell lie dere, and lif dere happily. Oh, 
you most send my pody for its pur%'ment to Cu- 
ra^oa!* *I will do dat, mine proder.^ *Den I de- 
part in peace, dear Isaac ;* and the IsraeHte was as 
good as his word for once. He did die. Isaac, ac- 
cording to his promise, applied to the captains of 
several schooners ; none of them would take the 
dead body. * What shall I do V thought Isaac, * de 
monish niosh not be loss.' So he straightway had 
Ezekiel (for even a Jew won't keep long in that 
climate) cut up and packed with pickle into two 
barrels, marked, * Prime Mess Pork, Leicester, 
M*Call and Co., Cork.' He then shipped the same 
in the Fan-Fan, taking bills of lading in accord- 
ance with the brand, deliverable to Mordecai Levi, 
of Curacoa, to whom he sent the requisite instruc- 
tions. The vessel sailed — off* St. Domingo she car- 
ried away a mast — tried to fetch Carthagena under 
a jury-spar — ^fell to leeward, and finally brought up 
at Honduras. 

" Three months after, Isaac encountered the mas- 
ter of the schooner in the streets of Kingston. 
*' Ah, mine goot captain — ^how is you? you lookish 
tin — ave you been sheek ?' * No, Moses — I am well 
enough, thank you — poor a bit, but sound in health, 
thank God. You have heard of my having carried 
away the mainmast, and, after kicking about fifteen 
days on short allowance, having been obliged to 
bear up for Honduras?' * I know noting of all dat,' 
said Isaac ; * sorry for it, captain — very sad, inteed.' 

* Sad — you may say that, Moses. But I am honest 
although poor, and here is your bill of lading for 
your two barrels of provisions ; *' i'rinje mess," it 

iays; d d tough, say I — Howsomdever,' pulling 

out his purse, 'the present value on Bogle, Jopp 
and Co.'s wharf, is £5 6s. 8d. the barrel ; so there 
are two doubloons, Moses, and now discharge the 
account on the back of the bill of lading, will you ?* 

* Vy should I take payment, captain ? if de (pork 
stuck in his throat like ' amen ' in Macbeth's,) * if 
de barrel ish lost, it can't be help— de act of God, 
you know.' * I am an honest man, Isaac,* contin- 
ued the captain, * although a poor one, and I must 
tell the truth — we carried on with our own as long 
as it lasted, at length we had to break bulk, and 



664 



BZTR&CTS FROM "TOU CBINOLB'S LOO." 



your t*o burelH bdne nearett the hstchway, vhr ' although tlie ol^ccl of the part; ni to costo* 
wv bIc Ihem first, thatV all. Lord, what has come , Captain Tmuam and mjielf to our boat at tlta Oni- 
over jouF' Isaac jrre* pale as a corpse. 'Oh, I nance Wharf, it gtruck me that we were aa fit- 
mine Got — mine poor prodpr, dat jou ever was live j quentlj on a lolall; different tuck. 
to lie in Jamaic— Oh tear, oh tear!'" " I say. Cringle, nij boy," Btuttcred out my m- 

" Did they cat (be head and hands, and " perior, lieulenanl and eaplaiti being both drowned 

"Hold your tongue, Tom Crinftle, don't interrupt | tn and equaliied by (he claret — "why. Tom, Toai 
me, you did not eat them ; I tell it as it was irAil to : Cringle, you dog — don't you hear your superior 
me. So laaHc Grimm," continued Fyall, " was ikirlj ' officer speak, ^r, eh f" 

overcome ; the kindly feelings of bis nature were l My superior ollicer, during this addren, was 
at lenj^lh stirred up. and as he turned away, he i E<landing with both arms round ft pillar of the 
wept— blew his nose bard, like a Chaldean trumpet ' piaiza, 
in the new moon : and while (he lurge tears coursed i " I am hero, sir," said I. 

each other down his care-worn cheeks, he eicbimed, " Ah, I sec," Inid Transom ; " let us heare ahead, 
wringing the captain's hand, in a TOice tremulous ! Tom — now do ye hear? — stand you with your white 
and scarcely audible from extreme emotion, 'Oh, I trousers against the neit pillar." The moges sop- 
Isaac Grim m, Isaac Grimm, lid not your heart niish- ' porting the piaiia ncre at distances of about twen- 
giTc you, Tcn you vas commit te great blasphemy ty feel from each other, " Ah. stand there now — 
of invoish Ezekiel, flcRh of your tIpHh, pone of your I I see it." So he weighed from the one he bad 
pone— a« poi— de onclcan poast, 1 mean. If yon | tackled 10, and making a staggering bolt of it, he 
had put inToishliim asjve^, surely te carlhlv taber- . ran up to the pillar against which I stood, whose 

___i_ _* !.:_ 1 f... :^ ■- i.:_i. ^, i_ I po,j[j„n was marked by my white vestmenta. where 

ho again hooked on for a second or two, ontil I had 
taken up a new position, 

"There, niy boy. that's the way to lay out a wtrp 
— right in the wind's eye. Tom — wc shall fairly bcM 
those lubbers who arc lacking in the stream ; iu>- 
thing like warping in the dead water new the shore 
— mark that down, Tom — never beat in a tide-way 
when you can warp up along shore in the dead 
water, D- — n the judge's ice" — (hiccup) — "he 
has poisoned me with Ihat piece he plopped in my 
last whitewash of madeira. He a judge! He may 
be a good crim— criminal judge, but no judge of 
«ine. Why don't you laugh, Tom. eh? — and then 
his saw — Ihe rnep of a saw I hale — wish it, and a 
whole nest more, had been in his legal slomach — 
full of old sans — Sliakapcre — he, he — why don't 
you iaueh. Tom • I'oisoned by the judge, by Ju- 
piter. Kow. here we are fairly abreast of them— 
Hillo t Fyall, what are you after f" 



lim aa pftf. 



nacle of him, as always sfieet in de high p\ai 
tc flinacogiie, would never have peen allow to pa»B 
troo to povcis of te pcrshicuting Kaxareen. Ah, 
mine goot captain, mine very tear friend, vat, vat, 
vat av you done wid de cask, captain ?' " 

"Oh, moxt lame and impotent conclusion," sung 
out the judge, who by this time had become dcus- 
edly prosy; and all hands arose, as if by common 
consent, and agreed that we had got enough. 

So off we started In groups. Kvall, Captain Tran- 
som, WhIlUc, Aaron Bang, and m'ysolf, sallied lortb 

a bunch, prelly well inclined for a lark. 






There ai 



.0 lamps in the st 






an, and as all the tUeetit part of the community 
in their eavUi by half-past nine in the evening, and 
lu it is now " (he witching time o' night," there 
was not a soul in the sireels that we saw, except 
when we passed a solitary townguard, lurking about 
some dark corner under the piazzas. These same 
streets, which were wide and comfortable enougli 
in the daytime, had become unaccountably narrow 
and intricate since six o'clock in the evening, and, 



«l;lUlUIlltJlUI]UtJUUliaU|JlSllUtllUtIUlilIllUIIBilllltlU[IL 




EXTRACTS FROM "tOM CRINOLe's LOO.'' 



665 



The next morning had been fixed for duck-shooting, 
and the overseer and I were creeping along among 
the mangrove boBhea on the shore, to get a shot at 
some teiu, when we saw our friend the pair of com- 
passes erosdns the small bay in his boat, towards 
bis little pilot-boat-built schooner, which was moor- 
ed in a small creek opposite, the bushwood conceal- 
ing every thing but her masts. My companion, as 
wUd an Irishman as I ever knew, hailed him, — 

"Hillo, Obadia — ^Buckskin — ^you Yankee rascal, 
heaTe-to. Come ashore here— come ashore.*^ 

Obed, smoking his pipe, deliberately uncoiled j 
himself — I thought, as he rose, there was to be no 
end of him — and stood upright in the boat, like an 
ill-rigged j ury-mast. 

** Isay, Master Tummas, you ben^t no friend of 
mine, I guess, a^er last night^s work ; you hears 
how I coughs?** — and he began to wheezie and crow | 
in a most remarkable fashion. 

" Never mind,** rejoined the overseer ; ** if you 
go round that point, and put up the ducks — by the 
piper, but 1*11 fire at you !** 

Obed neighed like a horse expecting his oats, 
which was meant as a laugh of derision. " Do you 
think your birding-piece can touch me here away, 
Master Tummas?* And again he nickered more 
loudly than before. 

" Don*t provoke me to try, you yellow snake, you !** 

"Try, and be d— — d, and there*s a mark for 
thee," unveiling a certain part of his body, not his 
face. 

The overseer, or &u«Aa, to give him his Jamaica 
name, looked at me and smiled, then coolly lifted 
his long Spanish barrel, and fired. Down dropped 
the smuggler, and ashore came the boat. 

** I am mortally wounded. Master Tummas,*' quoth 
Obed; and I was confoundly frightened at first, 
from the unusual proximity of the injured part to 
his head ; but the overseer, as soon as he could get 
oiT the ground, where he had thrown himself in an 
uncontrollable fit of laughter, had the man stripped 
and laid across a log, where he set his servant to 
pick out the pellets with a penknife. 

A SLIPPEBY YOUTH. 

** Old Gelid, Longtram, Steady, and myself had 
been eating mtooiw, at the former's domicil, and it 
was about nine in the evening when I eot home. 
We had taken next to no wine, a pint of Madeira 
a-piece, during dinner, and six bottles of claret be- 
tween us afterwards, so I went to bed as cool as a 
cucumber, and slept soundly for several hours, until 
awakened by my old gander — ^now do be quiet. 
Cringle — by my old watchman of a gander, cackling 
like a hero. I struck my repeater — ^half past one — 
so I turned myself, and was once more falling over 
into the arms of Morpheus, when I thought I saw 
some dark otject flit silently across the open window 
that looks into the piazza, between me and the deep 
blue as yet moonless sky. This somewhat startled 
me, but it might have been one of the servants. 
Still I got up and looked out, but I could see no- 
thing. It did certainly strike me once or twice, 
that there was some dark object cowering in the 
deep gloom caused by the shade of the orange-tree 
at the end of the piazza, but I persuaded myself 
it was fancy, and once more slipped into my 
nest. However, the circumstance had put sleep to 
flight. Half an hour might have passed, and the 
deep dark purity of the eastern sky was rapidly 
quickening into a greenish azure, the forerunner 



of the rising moon,** (" Oh, confound your poetry,** 
said Rubiochico,) ** which was fast swamping the 
sparkling stars, like a bright river flowing over 
diamonds, when the old gander again set up his 
gabblement, and trumpeted more loudly than be- 
fore. *If you were not so tough, my noisy old 
cock* — thought I — * next Michaelmas should be 
your last.* So I now resolutely shut my eyes, and 
tried to sleep perforce, in which usually fruitless 
attempt, I was actually beginning to succeed, do you 
know, when a strong odor of palm oil came through 
the window, and on opening my eyes, I saw by the 
increasing li^Iit a naked negro standing at it, with 
hh head and shoulders in sharp relief against the 
pale broad disc of the moon, at that moment just 
peering over the dark summit of the Long Moun- 
tain. 

'* I rubbed my eyes, and looked again ; the dark 
figure was still there, but as if aware that some one 
was on the watch, it gradually sank down, until 
nothing but the round bullet head appeared above 
the window sill. The stratagem succeeded ; the 
figure, deceived by my feigned snoring and quiet- 
ude, slowly rose, and once more stood erect. Pre- 
sently, it slipped one foot into the room, and then 
another, but so noiselessly that when I saw the 
black figure standing before me on the floor, I had 
some misgivings as to its being really a being of 
this world. However, I had small space for specu- 
lation, when it slid past the foot of the bed towards 
my open bureau — I seized the opportunity — started 
up — turned the key of the door — and planted my- 
self right between the thief and the open window. 
* Now, you scoundrel, surrender, or I will murder 
you on the spot.* I had scarcely spoken the word, 
when with the speed of light, the fellow threw him- 
self on me — we closed — I fell — when, clip, he slip- 
ped through my fingers like an eel — ^bolted through 
the window — cleared the balcony at a bound, and 
disappeared. The thief had stripped himself as 
naked as when he was bom, and soaped his woollv 
skull, and smeared his whole corpus with palm oil, 
so that in the struggle I was charmingly lubri- 
cated.** 

Nicodemus here lay back on his chair, evidently 
desirous of our considering this the whok of the 
story, but he was not to be let off so easily, for 
presently Longtram, with a wicked twinkle of his 
eye, chimed in — 

**Ay, and what happened next, old Xic — did 
nothing follow, eh T 

Nic*s countenance assumed an irresolute expres- 
sion ; he saw he was jammed up in the wind, so at 
a venture he determined to sham deafness — 

*' Take wine, Lucifer — a glass of Hermitage ?** 

" With great pleasure,** said his satanic majesty. 
The propitiatory libation, however, did not work, for 
no sooner had his glass touched the mahogany 
again, than he returned to the charge. 

*' Now, Mr. Nicodemus, since you won*t, I will 
tell the company the reason of so nice an old gen- 
tleman wearing Baltimore flour in his hair instead 
of perfumed Mareschal powder, and none of the 
freshest either, let me tell you ; why, I have seen 
three weevils take flight from your august pate 
since we sat down to dinner.** 

Old Nic, seeing he was caught, met the attack 
with the greatest good humor — 

" Why, I will tell the whole truth, Lucifer, if you 
don*t bother.** — (** The devil thank you,** said Long- 
tram.) — '* So you must know,** continued Nicode- 



KXTRA.cn FBOM " TOM CBINOLB'b LOO." 



moa, " that I Immediitelj roused the 
Marched the preimses in erer; direellon wltbout 
mccen — notbiiif could be leen ; but at the Ri»es- 
llon of my v>]et, I lit & imall Bpirit-lunp, aud twued 
it on the table at hit bed-ride, on irhicb it pleaded 
him to place mj brace of Mantooa, loaded with 
dag, iDd m; naked tmall-tword, so that, thought I, 
if Ue thief Tenturee back, he sball not slip through 
m; finger* again «o eadt;. I do confeu that these 
Imposing preparaliona did appear to me aamewhat 
prepoaterouB, ercn at the time, ai it «aa not, to 
My the least of it, Tsry probable tiiat my elippery 
gCQtieman would return the same night. However, 
my serrant in hli zeal was doC to be denied, and I 
waa not so fit to judge as usual, from having missed 
tny customary quaotiiy of wine alter dinner the 
previoiia day ; so, seeing all right, I tamed in, thus 
Driatling like a porcupiae, and slept soundly until 
daylight, nhen I bethought me of getting up, I 
tllen rose — slipped on my night-gown — and"— here 
Kioodemos laughed more loudly than ever, — "as I 
im a gentleman, my spiril-lamp— naked sword — 
kMded i^tola — my diamond breast-pin, and all my 
dolhei, even unto my unmentionables, had dis- 
appeared; but what was the eruelest cut of all, my 
box of Hurescha! powder, my patent puff, and alt 
my pomMlc ttiTtne, bad also Tanisbed ; and true 



enoosti, as Ludfer says, it to happened tliat from 
the delay In the arrival of the ninning stiipa, there 
was not an ounce of either powder or pomatum to 
be tiad in the whole town, so I IiaTe txen driven in 
my eit remit y — oh, moat horrible declension [^ — lo 
keep my tau on hog's lard and Baltimore flour 



nourished, for you sport a crop, Matter Kic, now, 
I perceive T" 
Here Nicodcmus was neither to hold nor to bind; 



Why, the robber waa my own favorite body- 
servant, CrsbcUw, after all, and be damiied lo bits 
— the identical man who advised the warlike de- 
monattalions ; and as for the pigtail, why, on the 
very second night of the flour and grease, il was to 
cruelly damaged by a rat while I slept, that I had 
to ampulale the whole affair, SlOOp and roop, thl* 
very morning." And so saying, the excellent crea- 
ture fell back in his chair, like to choke from the 
nproariousness of his mirth, wbile the tean bream- 
ed down his cheeks and washed channels in the 
door, as if he had l>een a tattooed Uandingo. 




CYCLOPEDIA 



OF 



MODERI^ WIT AI^D HUMOR. 



-•♦•- 



EisrariisH. 



<0 



\ 



OR 



^x 



l-'M 



/ 



> 



X-'' 



'■^^C-^-J 



CTCLOPiEDIA 

OP 

WIT AND HUM OK. 



ENGLISH. 



THS PUOSLKT PAPBR8. 







How the foDowIng cOTrMpondence came Into m}' 
haodi mnit remdn ■ WaTeriey mjslerj. The 
Pug«ley Fipen were neither rescued tVoni i. wret, 
Uke the Ereljn — collected Troni Mrtridges like the 
CuDoden,— nor uved, like the Garrick, from being 
■hredded into * Miotr Worm at a Winter Theatre. 
They were not matched from a tailor's iheare, like 
tbe originalparcbmentof Magna Charta. Tbeywere 
neither the Legacy of a Dominie, nor the communl- 
cationi of My Landlord, — a coo^gnmGnt, like the 
Clinker Letter*, from some Rev. Jonathan Dugl- 
wich, — nor the waift and glraya of a Twopenny 
PoK Bag. Tbey were not unrolled from ancient 
papyrL They were cone of tboae that "line trunkB, 
clotAe tpicea," or paper the walli oT old attica. 
They wore neither giren to me nor sold to me, — 
nor itolen, — nor borrowed and aurreptitioualy co- 
pied, — nor left in a hackney coach, like Sheridaa'a 
play, — POT mi«deliTered by a carrier pigeon, — oor 
dreamt of^ Uke Coleridge'a Knbla Khan, — nor turned 
Dp In the Tower, like Miltoa'a Foundling US.,— nor 
dug op — nor tnunped up, like the eastern tales of 
Horam Hamro Boram, the ion of Asmar, — nor 
brought OTcr by Rammohnn Roy, — nor tranalated 
b* Doctor Bowling from the Scandinarian, Bata- 
Tlan, Pomeranian, Spanish, or Danish, or Russian, 
or Pntsalan, or any other language dead or living. 



Tbey were not picked ttom the Dead Letter Offloe, 
nor purloined from the British Hoseum. Is short, 
I cannnot, dare not, will not, hint even at the modi 
of their acquisition ; the reader must be content to 
know, that, in point of authenticity, the Pugsley 
Papers are the extreme reverse of Lady L.'h cele- 
brated Autographs, which were all writlca by the 
proprietor. 

No. I. — FVvm ifoMler Bichxrd Pcoslet to MaOrr 
ROBIBT RooKU, at Ji'uinber 1S2, Sirtiain. 

DiiH Bob, — Huizal Here I aminUncolnshlret 
It's good-bye lo Wellingtoas and Cossacks, Ladies' 
doable channels. Gentlemen's stout calf, and ditto, 
ditto. They've all been sold off under priiue cost, 
and the old Bhoe Mart Is disposed of, goodwill and 
Qxtures, for ever and ever. Father hu been made 
a rich Squire of by will, and we've got a hooso and 
fields, and trees of our own. Buch a garden, Bob I 
It beats White Conduit. 

Now, Bob, I'll tell you what I want. I want you 
to come down here for the holidaya. Don't be 
afraid. Ask }^our SiMer lo ask your Uother to ask 
your Father to let you come. It's only ninety mile. 
If you're out of pocket mooej, you can wtlk, and 
beg a Uft now and then, or swing by the dickeys. 
Put on cordurojK, and don't care for cut behind. 
The two prentices, George and Will, are here to be 
made farmers of, and brother Nick is took home 
from school lo help in agriculture. We like farm- 
ing very much, it's capit^ fun. Us four have got a 
gun, and go out shooting ; it's a famous good un, 
and sure to go off if jou dont fiill cock it. Tiger 
is to be our shooting dog as soon as he has left off 
killing the sheep. He's a real savage, and worriee 
cats beautliUI. Before Father comes down, we 
mean to bait our bull with him. 

There's plenty of New Rivers about, and we're 
gcung a fishing as soon as we have mended our top 
joint. We've killed one of our sheep on the alj 
to get gentloB. We've a pony, too. to ride upon 
when we can catch him, but he's loose in the pad- 
dock, and hu neither mane nor tail to signify to 
lay hold of. Isn't it prime, Bob T Tou miul come. 



672 



THE PU08LEY PAPERS. 



If your Mother won't give your Father leave to 
allow you, — run away. Kcnieinbcr, you turn up 
Gosnell street to fro to Lincohiflhire, and ask for 
Midillefen Hall There's a pond full of frogs, but 
we won't pelt them till you come, but let it be be- 
fore Sunday, as there's our own orchard to rob, and 
the fruit's to be gathered on Monday. 

If you like sucking raw eggs, we know where the 
hens lay, and mother don't ; and I'm bound there's 
lots of birds' nests. Do come, Hob, and 111 show 
you the wasp^s nest, and CTery thing that can make 
you comfortable. I dare say you could borrow 
your father's volunteer musket of him without his ' 
knowing of it ; but be sure anyhow to bring the : 
ramrod, as we have mislaid ours by firing it off. 
Don't forget some bird-lime, Bob, and some fish- 
hooks — and some different sorts of shot — and some 
gut and some guni>owdcr — and a gentle4)ox, and 
some flints, — some May flies — and a powder horn, — . 
and a landing net and a dog-whistle — and some por- 
cupine quills, and a bullet mould — and a trolling- 
winch, and a shot-bolt and a tin can. You pay for 
'em Bob, and I'll owe it you. 

Your old friend and schoolfellow, 

KiCUARD PUGSLET. 



No. II. — Frmn the Same to the Sajne. 

Dear Bob, — ^Whcn you come, bring us a 'bacco- 
pipe to load the gun with. If you don*t come, it 
can come by the waggon. Our Public House is 
three mile off, and when you've walked there it's 
out of every thing. Yours, etc. 

Rich. Puosley. 



Xo. m. — From J//m Anartasia Pugslet, to Mist 
Jemima Moggripok, at Gregory Hotue EstabHih- 
meMfor Young Ladies^ Mile End. 

Mt dear Jemima, — Deeply solicitous to gratify 
sensibility, by sympathising with our fortuitous 
elevation, I seize the e[)istolatory implements to in- 
form you, that, by the testamentary disposition of 
a remote branch of consanguinity, our tutelary res- 
idence is removed from the metropolitan horizon 
to a pastoral district and its congenial pursuits. In 
futurity I shall be more i)ertinaclously superstitious 
in the astrological revelations of human destiny. 
You remember the mysterious gipsy at Hornsey 
Wood? Well, the eventful fortune she ob.scun»ly 
intimated, though couched in vague terms, has come 
to pass in minutest [Kirtieulars ; for I perceive pcr- 
8i)icuously, that it predicted that papa should sell 
off his boot and shoe business at 13.3, Barbican, to 
Clack and Son, of 144, Ilatton Garden, and that we 
should retire, in a station of affluence, to Middlefen 
Hall, in Lincolnshire, by becpiest of our groat-gr(>at 
maternal uncle, Pollexfen (Joldsworihy Wriggles- 
worth, Esq., who deceased suddenly of apoplexy at 
Wiabeach Market, in the ninety-third year of his 
venerable and lamented age. 

At the risk of tedium, I will attempt a cursory 
delineation of our rural paradise, altho' I feel it 
would be morally arduous to give any idea of the 
romantic si'enery of the Lincolnshire Fens. Con- 
ceive, as far as the visual organ expands, an im- 
mense sequestered level, abundantly irrigated with 
minute rivulets, and studded with tuhed oaks, whilst 
more than a hundred wind-mills diversify the pros- 
pect and give a revolving animation to the scene. 
As for our own gardens and grounds, they arc a 



perfect Vauxhall — excepting of course the rotunda, 
the orchestra, the company, the variegated lamps, 
the fireworks, and those very lofty trees. But I 
trust my dear Jemima will supersede topography 
by ocular inspection ; and in the interim I send for 
ai'ceptance a gra[)hical view of the locality, shaded 
in Indian ink, which will suffice to convey an idea 
of the terrestrial verdure and celestial azure we 
enjoy, in lieu of the sable exhalations and archi- 
tectural nigritude of the metropolis. 

You who know my pastoral aspirings, and have 
been the indulgent confldant of my votive tributes 
to the Muses, will conceive the refined nature of 
my enjoyment when I mention the intellectual re- 
I)ast of this morning. I never could enjoy Bloom- 
field in Barbican, — but to-dav he read beautifullv 
under our pear tree. I look forward to the felicity 
of reading Thomson's Summer with you on the 
green seat, and if engagements at Christmas per- 
mit your participation in the bard, there is a bower 
of evergreens that will be delightful for the perusal 
of his Winter. 

I enclose, by request, an epistolary effusion from 
sister Dorothy, which I know will provoke your 
risible powers, by the domesticity of its details. 
You know she was always in the homely charac- 
teristics a perfect Cinderella, though I doubt whe- 
ther even supernatural agency could adapt her foot 
to a diminutive vitrified slipper, or her hand for a 
prince of regal primogeniture. But I am sum- 
moned to receive, with family members, the felici- 
tations of Lincolnshire aristocracy ; though what- 
ever necessary distinctions may prospectively occur 
between respective grades in life, they will only 
superficially afiect the sentiments of eternal friend- 
ship between my dear Jemima and her affectionate 
friend, 

Anastasia Puoslet. 



No. IV. — From MUs Dorothy Pugblit to the Same, 

My dear Miss Jemima. — ^Providence having been 
pleased to remove my domestic duties from Barbi- 
can to Lincolnshire, I trust I shall have strength of 
constitution to fulfil them as becomes my new al- 
lotted line of life. As we are not sent into this 
world to be idle, and Anastasia has declined house- 
wifery, I have undertaken the Diary, and the 
Brewery, and the Baking, and the Poultry, the 
Pigs, and the IV^try, — and though I feel fatigued 
at first, use reconciles to labors and trials, more 
severe than I at itresent enjoy. Altho' things may 
not turn out to wish at present, yet all well-directed 
efforts are sure to meet reward in the end, and 
altho' I have chuniped and churned two days run- 
ning, and it's nothing yet but curds and whey, I 
should be wrong to desfuiir of eating butter of mj 
own making before I die. Considering the adul- 
teration committed by every article in London, I 
was never happier in any prospect, than of drink- 
ing my own milk, fattening my own calves, and lay- 
ing my own eggs. We cackle so much I am sure 
we new-lay somewhere, tho' I cannot find out our 
nests ; and I am looking every day to have chickens, 
as one peppi^r-and-salt colored hen has been sitting 
these two months. When a poor ignorant bird sets 
me such an example of patience, how can I repine 
at the hardest domestic drudgery ! Mother and I 
have worked like horses to be sure cxer since we 
came to the estate ; but if we die in it, we know lt*i 
for the good of the fiunily, and to agreeably lur- 



THE FCG8LEY PAPEKS. 



prUc mj Father, who U Mill in town winiliiif up 
hU bixiks. For niv own pirt, if it was righ lo 
look kt thiogl BO •elfl»hlj, I should sij 1 never was 
HO l»ppj in mT lire \ lbou|;h I own I have cried 
more dncc comuig here than I ever remeinber be 
fore. Yoa will coafesd mj croMCd and losHca have 
been uniuual tri^ when I tell ) ou, out of all m) n ak 
itigii. Bad bakings, and brewingH, and preser ngs 
there has been nolhiiig eiiticr eatable or drinkab 
and what ii mora painful to an al&ctjonale m nd, 
hure half poisoned the whole Ikniily with home- 
made ketchup of toadstools, bj mistake for mush 
rooms. When I reflect that they are preserr d I 
ought not to grieTe about inj dBTruoiis and bulla es 
done by Mr*. Maria Dover's roctipt. 

Among other things we cnme into a beaut ful 
closet of oil! Qhtna, vhich, I am shocked Id so* » 
all destroyed by my preserving. The bullace and 
damsons fomented, and blew up a great jar w h a 
violent shock that smashed all the tea and olT e 
cups, and left nothing but ihe handles han^ g n 
TOWS on the tenter-hooks. But to a resij^cd tip 
there's always some comfort in ealaiiiitii'i>, and f 
the preserves work and foment bo, there's som 
bope that my beer will, as il has been a nionlh nei 
Monday in the mash tub. As for the loss of h 
elder wine, candor compels mo to say it was my 
own fault for telling the poor blind animals Lrawl 
into the copper ; but experience dietalcs neit year 
not to boil the berries and kittens at the same time. 

I mean to attempt cream cheese ns siioii as we 
can get crean,^~but as yet we can't drive iho (.'ons 
home to be milked for the Bull — he has twice 
hunted Grace and me into fits, and kept my poor 
Uother a whole morning in the jugiityc. As I know 
you like country delicacies, you will receive a pound 
of tuy fresh butler when il comes, and I mean to 
add a cheese as soon as I cm get one lo stiek to- 
gether. I shall send abio some family pork for 
GoTemeis, of our own killing, as we wring a pij:'s 
neck on Saturday. I did hope to give you the un- 
expected treat of a ho:ne-made loaf, but It wns 
forgot in the oven tnaa ten to sii, and so too black 
to offer. However, 1 hope to surprise you nith one 
bj Monday's carrier. Anaslasia bids me add she 
•nil send a nosegay for respected Urs. Tomblciion, 
if the plants don't die off before, which I am sorry 
lo say is not improbable. 

It's really shocking lo see the failure of her cul- 
tivated taste, and one En particular, that must be 
owned a very pretty idea. When we came, there 
WW a vast number of flower roots, hut jumbled 
without any regulnt order, till Aiiastasia trowelled 
them an up, and set them in again, in the quadrille 
figures. It must have looked sweetly elegant, if it 
bad agreed with them, but they linve all dwiudlcd 
and drooped like deep declines and- conaiimplloos. 
Her dahlias and tulips, loo, have turned out no- 
thing but onions and kidney potatoes, and her ten 
week stocks hare not come np in Iwenty. But as 
Shakspete says, Adversity is a precious toad — that 
teaches us Patience is a jeweL 

Considering the unsettled state of coming in, I 
must conclude, but could not rew^it giving your 
friendliness a short account of the hajipy change 
that ha* occurred, and our Increase of voinfurls. I 
wonld write more, but I know you Kill excuse my 
Usteniog to the calls of dumb animals. It's Ihe 
time I lUwayi scald the little pigs' bread and milk. 
and pat laucen of clean water for the ducks and 
giiisi There are the fowls' beds to make wilh 




fresh straw, and a hundred similar things that 
connlry people are obliged to think of. 

Tiio children, I am happy lo suv, are all welt, 
baby is a litllc fractious, we think from Grace set- 
ting him down in the nettles, and he was short- 
coaled la-!t week. Grace is poorly with a cold, and 
Anostusia has got a sore throat, from sitting up 
fruillesi-1y in the orchard lo hear the nightinjEale ; 
perhaps there may not be any in the Feus. Isoem 
to have Di trifling ague and rheumatism niyself, but 
it uiiiy be only a stlfTnefS from so much churning, 
and the great Ikniily wash-up of every thing wu had 
directly we came down, for the sake of grass-bleach- 
inz on Ihe lawn. Wilh those exceptions, we are 
perfccl health and happiness, and unite in 






Dear Hiss Jemima's alTeelionale friend, 



Xo. V. — /Vom Mm. Pogsley to Mm. McMFOttn, 

BHckUrshiirii. 

Mv nE»ii Martha. — In my ultimatum 1 informed 
of old WrigglcsH'orlh paying his nalural debts, end 
□r the whole Uiddlcl'en estate coming from Lin- 
cobkihlre to Barbican. 1 charged Ur. P. to send 
liulli'tings into you wilh progressive reports, but 
between sisters, as I know you are very curious, I 
am going to make myself more particular. I take 
the 0p[i0r(unity of the family being all restive in 
bed, and the house all still, to give an account of 
our moving. The things all got here safe, with the 
exception of the Crockery and fiiass, «hieh came 
donn with the dresser, about an hour after its ar- 
rival. Perhaps if we hadn't overloaded it wilh Ihe 
whole of our breakables, it wouldn't have given 
nay, — as it is, we have only one plate left, and 
Ihal's chipl, and a mug without a spout to keep it 
in counienaiicc. Our furniture, etc., came by the 
wagon, and I am sorry to say a poor family at the 
same lime, and the little idle boys nith iheir knives 
carved and scarified my rosewood legs, and, what 



C74 



THE I'UOBLEY PAPEBB. 



IB worse, not of the e: 
siy, two Lincolnaliire 
of London. 

Tlic firiit tiling I did on comins down, was to see 
to tbc sweeps Roing up, — but 1 wiah I had been 
Icaa precipitoiiB, for the Booty wrcttlies stole fo 
f;oad flitches of bikcon, as wuup the kitchen chi: 
iiey, quiic unlH'linowD to nic. We have tilled 
the Tscaney with mare, which smoke ub drcatiruliy, 
but what ia to be cured inuat ba undured. Hj ncit 
tiling nas (o have all Iiolce and coi-ncra cleared out, 
and waslii'd, and scrubbed, being IcH, like bache- 
lor's placed, ia a aad stule bj old single W. ; for a 
rich man, I uuver saw one tbat wanted so much 
cleaaing out. Tiiere were heaps of dung about, a) 
high as hajatacIiB, and it cost mc five shillings d 
load to bare it ail carted off the premises; bpiudei 
heaps of good-for-nolhinp litlcriug Straw, that 1 
gave to the boys for boutires. We are not all to 
rigbts yet, but Rome wasn't built in St. Thomas's 
day. 

It was providential I hampered myself with cold 
proTisioDS, for eieept the hacnn there were no ea* 
ables in ttie houae. What old W. livi'd upon is 
mystery, except solada, for we founil a whole field 
of beet-root, which, all but a few plants for Doro- 
tliy to pickle, I had chuvkcd away. As the pround 
was then clear for sowing up a crop, I directed 
George to plough it up, but lie met with agricul- 
tural dialress. ilc mya as soon as he whipped hi.' 
horses, Ibo plough stuck iu no»c in the earth, and 
tumbled OTcr head and heels. It cceins very odd 
wheu ploughing is so caay to look at, but I Inist he 
will do better in time, Eiporieiicc 
Solomon of a Tom noddy. 

1 ciiwct wo shall haic buiihcls upon bushela of 
coTD, tW sudlj pot'ked by the birds, as I have hud 
all the Kcarecrowg taken down for fear of the chil- 
dren dreaming of them for Bogies. For the same 
dour little oiki'S I have had the well filled up, and 
the lia^ty sharp iron spikes drawn out of nil tbc 
rakes and harrows. Kobody shnl! cay to my 
teclli, I am not a good Mother. With tbciic prc- 
' ' t the young ouca will enjoy the 




>r if tht 



> country when the gipties have left, but till then, I 
confine them to round the hotise, as it's no ui« 
ehutliDg the stable door after you've bad a child 
I stole. Wo have ■ good many line fields of bay, 
: which I mean to have reaped directly, wet or shine; 
for deiaya are as dangerous as picklts in i 
Perhaps St. Hwithcu's is in our favor, 
stacks are put up dampish thi-y won't catch fire so 
easily, if Swing should come into these parts. The 
poor boys have made themselves very industrious 
in shooting off the birds, and hunting away all the 
vermin, besides cutting down lives. As I knew it 
was profitable to fell timber, I directed them to 
begin with a very ugly straggling old hollow tree 
next the premises, but it fell the wrong way, and 
knocked down tho cow-house. Luckily the poor 
animals were all in the clover-field at tbe time. 
ficorge says it wouldn't have happened but for a 
violent sow, or rather aow-wcsl,~and ii'a likely 
enough, but it's BD ill wind thai blows nothing lo 
nobody. 

Having writ last post to Mr. P., 1 have no occa- 
sion lo make you a country commissioiier. .^uas- 
taaia, indeed, waiitB to have books about every 
thing, but for my part and Dorothy's we don't put 
much faith in autlioiized reccipta and directions, 
but trust more to luilure and coniieou sense. For 
instance, in fatting a goose, reason points to Fsge 
and onions, — why our own don't thrive on it, is 
very mysterious. We have a bcaulifui poultry 
yard, only infested with rats,— but I have made up 
a poiMin, that, 1 know by the poor ducks, will kill 
them if they eat it. 

1 cipettc'd to Bend you a qnanilly of wall-frmt, 
for preserving, and bid sorry you bought tbe brandy 
beforehand, as it has all vanished in one night by 




piiking and stealing nolwtthstanduift I had ten 
doEi-n of bottles broke on purpose to ellck a-lop nt 
(he wall. Ilul I rather think they came over the 
palea, as (ieorgc, who is very thoughllMi, had 
' ' n in all the new tenter booki wStb tha poWi 



TUS FU08LET FAPEBS. 



675 



downward*. Our Rpplri uid penn woald btvc 
gone loo, but lucUl; we heard a noiie in the dark, 
and threw brickbat! ouC of the window, that Blarm- 
«d the thlcTci bj smashing the cowcumber frames. 
However, I mean on Uondaj to make sure of the 
orchard, bj gathering the trees, — a pheasant in 
oite'i bMid is wanh two cock sparrowB in « buab. 
One comfort U, the house-dog is Tery vicious, and 
wont let any of us stir in or out after dark— indeed, 
Dothmg can be more furioui, except Che bull, and 
at me in particular. Tou would think he knew my 
inward thoughts, and that I Intend to have blm 
rOBited whole when we give our grand housewann- 

iVith these particuUra, I remain, with lore, mj 
dear Dorcas, ;our affectionate sister, 

Belinda Pcobi.bt. 

P. B. — I have only one aniletj here, and that ie, 
tbe likelihood of being taken violently ill, nine 
mOea otT from any phyucal powers, with nobody 
that can ride in the house, and nothing but an In- 
aurmountable hunting horse in the stsbre. 1 shoiJd 
Bke, therefore, to be well doctor-stufTd from Apo- 
thecaries' Hall, by the wagon or any other vehicle. 
A stitch in tbedde takenlotime saves nine spasms. 
Dorothy's tincture of the rhubarb stalks in the 
garden, doesn't answer, and it's a phj now they 
were not saved for plea. 

No. VI. — FiroM Mr*. Puoslit to Mn. Boaua. 

HiDAV, — Altbough warmth has nude a coolness, 
and our having words has caused a silence — yet as 
mere writing is not being on speaking terms, and 
disconsolate parents in the case ; I waive venting of 
animonties till a more agreeable moment. Having 
perused the alBiiitcd advertisement in the Timet, 
with interetting deacription of person, and inclTec- 



hen OB Saturday night last, with almost not a shoe 
to his foot, and no coat at all, as was supposed to 
be with the approbation of parents. It apiipsrs, 
that not supposing (l|e distance between tbe fami- 
Hee eztendni to him, he walked the whole way 




down on the footing of a friend, to visit my son 
Richard, but hearing the newspapers read, (|uitted 
suddenly, the same day with the gipsies, anil we 
haven't an idea what is become of him. Trusting 
this statement will relieve of all aniiety, remain, 
madam, your humble servant, 

BlLINDl PiragLBT. 



Ko. Xn.—To Mr. Silas Petoslit, ParUian Dtpit, 
Shortditeh. 
Diaa BaormtR, — Uy favor of the present date, 

is to advise of my safe arriral on Wctlnesday night, 
per opposition coach, after ninety miles of diecon>- 
ibrt, absolutely unrivalled for cheapness, and a nlk 
of five miles more, through lanes and roads, that tor 
dirt and sludge may confidenlly defy competition, — 
not to mention turnings and windings, too aumeroua 
to particularize, but morally impO«sible to punue 
on undeviating principles. The night was of so 
dark a quality as forbade finding the gate, but for 
the house-dog flying upon me by mistake for tbe 
late respectable proprietor, and almost tearing my 
clothes off my back by bis strenuous eieriiooB to 
obtain the favor of niy patronage. 

Conscientiously averse to the fallacious state- 
ments, BO much indulged in by various competitors, 
truth urges to ackriOwledge that on arrival, I did 
not find things on such a footing as to insure uni- 
versal saiiafactioD. Uts. P., Indeed, differs In her 
statement, but you know her success always sur- 
passed the most sanguine expectations. Ever emu- 
lous to merit commendation by the strictest regard 
to principles of economy, 1 found her laid up with 
lumbago, through her studious efforts to please, and 
Doctor Clarke, of W'isbeach, in the house prescrib- 
ing for it. but I am sorry to odd — no abatement. 
Dorothy is altio confined to her bed, by her unre- 
mitting as$iduity and attention in the houiiekecping 
line; and Anastosia the gome, from listening for 
nightingales, on a fine July evening, but which is 
an article not alnays to be warranted to keep its 
virtue in any climate, — the other children, large 
and small sizes, ditto, ditto, with Grace too 111 to 
serve in tlic nursery,— and the rest of the servants 
totally unable to execute such extensive demands. 
Such an unprecedented depreciation in health makes 
me doubt the quality of country air, so much re- 
commended for family use, and whether constitu- 
tions have not moru eligibility to offer tbat have 
been regularly tovrn-madc. 

Our new residence is a large lonely mansion, with 
no connection with aiiv other houiie, but slanding 
ill the heart of Linco'lnshirc fens, over which it 
looks through an advantageous opening : coinpris- 
inc a great variety of windmills, and draini>, and 
willow-pollards, and an extensive aivorimcnt of 
similar articles, that are not much calculated to in- 
vite inspection. In warehoiincs for corn, etc., it 
probably presents unusual advantages to the occu- 
meri but candor compels to ftate that agriculture 
in this part of Lincolnshire is very flat. To supply 
language on the most moderate terms, unexampled 
distress in Spitalflclds is nothing to llie distress in 
ours. The com has boon delupcd with ruin of re. 
markable durahililv, without being able to wasii the 
smut out of its e'lirs; and with regard to the ex- 
pected great ri.-ie inhay, ourslackshave been burnt 
down to the ground, instead of going to the con- 
sumer. If the hounds hadn't been out, we might 
have fetch'd the engines, but the bimter threw 
George on his head, and he only reviied to be sen- 



676 



8ALLY BIMPKIN8 LAHENT ; OB, JOHN JONESES KIT-CAT-A8TE0PIfE. 



sibic that the entire stock had been dispofied of at 
an immenfte sacrifice. The whole amount, I fear, 
will be out of book, — as the Norwich Union refuses 
to liquidate the hay, on the ground that the policy 
was voided by the impolicy of putting it up wet. 
In other articles I am sorry I must write no altera- 
tion. Our bull, after killinff the house-dog, and 
toHsing William, has gone wild, and had the mad- 
nefis to run away from his livelihood, and, what .is 
worse, all the cows after him— except those that 
had burst themselves in the clover-field, and a small 
dividend, as I may say, of one in the pound. An- 
other item, the pigs, to save bread and milk, have 
been turned into the woods for acorns, and is an 
article producing no returns — as not one has yet 
come back. Poultry ditto. Sedulously cultivating 
an enlarged connection in the turkey line, such the 
antipathy to gipsies, the whole breed, geese and 
ducks inclusive, removed themselves from the 
premises by night, directly a strolling camp came 
and set up in the neighborhood To avoid prolixity, 
when 1 came to take stock, there was no stock to 
take — namely, no eggs, no butter, no cheese, no com, 
no hay, no bread, no beer — no water even — nothing 
but the mere commodious premises, and fixtures, 
and good-will — and candor compi'ls to add, a very 
small quantity on hand of the last-named particular. 
To add to stagnation, neither of my two sons in 
the business, nor the two apprentices, have been so 
diligently punctual in executing country orders with 
despatch and fidelity, as laud;ible ambition desires, 
but have gone about fishing and shooting — and 
William has suffered a loss of three fingers, by his 
unvarying system of high charges. He and Richard 
are likewise both threatened with prosecution for 
trespassing on the hares in the adjoining landed in- 
terest, and Nick is obliged to decline any active 
share, by dislocating his shoulder in climbing a tall 
tree for a totn-tit. As for George, tho' for the 
first time beyond the circumscrilwd limits of town 
custom, he indulges vanity in such unqualified pre- 
tensions to superiority of knowledge in farming, on 
the strength of his grandfather having belonged to 



the agricultural line of trade, as renders a wholesale 
stock of pAtiencc barely adequate to meet its de- 
mands. Thus stimulated to injudicious perform- 
ance, he 1*4 as injurious to the best interests of the 
country, as blight and mildew, and smut and rot. 
and glanders, and pip, all combined in one texture. 
Between ourselves, the objects of unceasing endeav- 
ors, united with uncompromising integrity, have 
been assailed with so much deterioration, as makc^ 
me humbly desirous of abridging sufferings, by re- 
suming business as a shoe marter at the old-estab- 
lished house. If Clack and Son, therefore, have not 
already taken possession and respectfully informed 
tlie vicinity, will thankfully pay reasonable compen- 
sation for loss of time and expi^nse incurred by the 
bargain being off. In case parties agree, I beg you 
will authorize Mr. Robins to have the honor to "dis- 
pose of the whole Lincolnshire concern, tho' the 
knocking down of Middlefen Hall will be a severe 
blow on Mrs. P. and family. Deprecating the de- 
ceitful stimulus of advertising arts, interest com- 
mands to mention, — desirable freehold estate and 
eligible investment — and sole reason for disposal, 
the proprietor going to the continent. Example 
suggests likewise, a good country for hunting for 
fox-hounds — and a prospect too extensive to put 
in a newspaper. Circumstances being rendered 
awkward by the untoward event of the running 
away of the cattle, etc., it will be best to say — 
" The stock to be taken as it stands;" — and an ad- 
ditional favor will be ;x)litely conferred, and the 
same thankfully acknowledged, if the auctioneer 
will be so kind as biing the next market town ten 
miles nearer, and carry the coach and the wagon 
once a day past the door. Earnestly requesting 
early attention to the above, and with sentiments 
of, etc. R. PuGSLEY, Sen. 

P. S. Richard is just come to hand dripping and 
half dead out of the Nene, and the two apprentices 
all but drowned each other in saving hiin. Hence 
occurs to add, fishing opportunities among the de- 
sirable items. 



•♦• 



SALLY SIMPKIK'S LAMENT ; OR, JOHN JONE>i'S KIT-CAT-ASTROPHE. 



BY THOMAS HOOD. 



*' Oh ! what is that comes gliding in, 

And ((uite in middling ha^tc V 
It in the picture of my .loucs, 

And painted to the waist. 

*' It is not paintetl to the life, 
For Where's the tro\\s(;r.s blue V 

Oh Jone.s, my dear! — Oh dear! my Jones, 
What is become of vouV" 

" O ! Sally dear, it is too true, — 

The half that you remark 
Is come to say my other half 

Is bit off by a shark ! 

*' Oh I Sallv, sharks do things bv halves, 

Y«'t most completely do ! 
A bite in one place seems enough, 

Hut I've been bit in two. 

** You know I once was all your own 

Hut now a shark must share ! 
But let that pass — for now to you 

Pm neither here nor there. 



" Alas I drath has a strange divorce 

Ell'ected in the sea, 
It lias divided me from you, 

And even me from me ! 

" Don't fear my ghost will walk o' nights 

To haunt, as people say ; 
My ghost rant walk, for, oh ! my legs 

Aie many leagues away ! 

'' Lord ! think when I am swimming round, 
And looking where the boat is, 

A shark just snaps away a half, 
Without *a guxirter*8 notice.' 

" One half is here, the other half 

Is near Columbia jdaced ; 
Oh ! Siilly, I have got the wholo 

Atlantic lor my waist. 

**Hut now, adieu — a lone adieu! 

Pve solved death^s awral riddle, 
And would say more, but I am dooBid 

To break olf in the middle I" 



.Jbi 



THB LOST HEIB. 



LOST HEIR. 




Onb dtj, u I WIS RoiPK b; 

TbM put of Holborn cbHaiened HigU, 

I heard a loud nad Buddeo crj 

That chiil'd mj very blood ; 
And 1o! from out a dirty ullcjr, 
Where pi^ and Irish woot tu rally, 
I saw a crazy woman sally, 

Bedaub'd wiih grease and mud. 
She turn'd her East, she lum'd her West, 
Staring like Pythone^ posiieat, 
With streaming hair and heaving breaal, 

As one si ark mad with grief. 
Thia wa; and that she wildly ran. 
Jostling wiih woman and with man — 
Her right hand held a, frring pan, 

The left a lump of beef. 
At last her frenzy eeem'tl tu reach 
A point JuBt capable of speech, 
And with a lone almost a screech, 

As wild as ocean birds. 
Or femalo Ranier mo»'U to preach. 

She gave ber " sorrow words." 



"OLord! dear, my heart will break, I shall go stick stark itaring wild! 

Has ever a one seen any thing about the streets like a crying lost -looking child T 

I^wk help me, I don't know where to look, or to run, if I only knew which way — 

A Chiltl a« U lost about London streets, and especially Seren Dials, is a needle in a bottle of bay. 

I am all in a qniTer — get out of my sight, do, you wretch, you little Kitty JI'N'aljl 

Ton promised to hare half an eye to him, you know you did, you dirty deceitful young drab. 

The last time as ever I see him, poor thing, was with my own blessed Holberly eyes. 

Sitting as good as gold in the gutter, a playing at making little dirt plee. 

I wonder he left the court where he was better off than alt the other young boya, 

Wilb two bricks, an old shoe, nine oyater^hetls, and a dAd kiclen by nay of toys. 

When hia Father cornea home, and he always comes home as sure as ever the clock strikes one, 

Bell be rampant, he will, at bis child being lost ; and the beef and the tnguns not done ! 

La bless you, good folks, mind your own consams, and don't be making a mob in the street ; 

leiieant H'rarlanel you have not come across my poor tittle boy, have you, in your bcalF 

Do, good people, move on I don't stand staring at me like a parcel of Stupid stuck pigs ; 

Saints forbid '. bat he's p'r'aps been inriggled away up a court for the sake of his clothes by the prigs ; 




678 



A FETE AT A OOUNTRT BEAT. 



HeM a Tery good jacket, for certain, for I bought it myself for a shilling one day in Rag Fair ; 

And his trousers considering not very much patched, and red plush, they was once his Father^s best pair. 

His shirt, it^s very lucky Td got washing in the tub, or that might have gone with the rest ; 

But he'd got on a very good pinafore with only two slits and a bum on the breast. 

HeM a goodish sort of hat, if the crown was sewM in, and not quite so much jaggM at the brim. 

With one shoe on, and the other shoe is a boot, and not a fit, and you'll know by that if it's him. 

Except being so well dressM, my mind would misgive, some old beggar woman in want of an orphan. 

Had borrowed the child to go a begging with, but Fd rather see him laid out in his coffin ! 

Do, good people, move on, such a rabble of boys 1 1*11 break every bone of 'em I come near ; 

Go home — youVe spilling the porter — go home — ^Tommy Jones, go along home with your beer. 

This day is the sorrowfulest day of my life, ever since my name was Betty Morgan. 

Them vile Savoyards ! they lost him once before all along of following a Monkey and an Organ : 

my Billy — my head will turn right round — ^if he's got kiddynapp'd with them Italians, 

They'll make him a plaster parish image boy, they will, the outlandish tatterdemalions. 

Billy — where are you, Billy ? — Fm as hoarse as a crow, with screaming for ye, you young sorrow I 

And shan't have half a voice, no more I shan't, for crying fresh herrings to-morrow. 

Billy, you're bursting my heart in two, and my life won't be of no more vally, 

If I'm to see other folks darlin's, and none of mine, playing like angels in our aJley ; 
And what shall I do but cry out my eyes, when I looks at the old three-legged chair 
As Billy used to niake coach and horses of, and there a'n't no Billy there I 

1 would run all the wide world over to find him, if I only know'd wh^re to run. 

Little Murphy, now I remember, was once lost for a month through stealing a penny bun, — 

The Lord forbid of any child of mine ! I think it would kill me rally, 

To find my Bill holdin' up his little innocent hand at the Old Bailey. 

For though I say it as oughtn't, yet I will say, you may search for miles and mileses 

And not find one better brought up, and more pretty behaved, from one end to t'other of St. Giles's. 

And if I called him a beauty, it's no lie, but only as a Mother ought to speak ; 

You never set eyes on a more handsomer face, only it hasn't been washed for a week ; 

As for hair, tho' its red, it's the most nicest hair when I've time to just show it the comb ; 

I'U owe 'em five pounds, and a blessing besides, as will only bring him safe and sound home. 

He's blue eyes, and not to be call'd a squint, though a little cast he's certainly got ; 

And his nose is still a good un, tho' the bridge is broke, by his falling on a pewter pint pot ; 

He's got the most elegant wide mouth in the world, and very large teeth for his age ; 

And quite as fit as Mrs. Murdockson's child to play Cupid on the Drury Lane Stage. 

And then he has got such dear winning ways — but I never never shall see him no more ! 

dear ! to think of losing him just al\er nussing him back from death's door ! • 
Only the very last month when the windfalls, hang 'em, was at twenty a penny ! 

And the threepence he'd got by grottoing was spent in plums, and sixty for a child is too many. 

And the Cholera man came and whitewash'd us all and, drat him, made a seize of our hog. — 

It's no use to send the Cryer to cry him about, he's such a blunderin' drunken old dog ; 

The last time he was fetched to find a lost child, he was guzzling with his bell at the Crown, 

And went and cried a boy instead of a girl, for a distracted Mother and P'ather about Town. 

Billy — where are you, Billy, I say ? come Billy, come home, to your best of Mothers I 

I'm scared when I think of them Cabroleys, they drive so, they run over their own Sisters and Brothers. 

Or may be he's stole by some chimbly sweeping wretch, to stick fast in narrow fines and what not. 

And be poked up behind with a picked pointed pole, when the soot has ketch'd, and the chimney's red 

hot 
Oh I'd give the whole wide world, if the world was mine, to clap my two longin* eyes on his face. 
For he's my darlin' of darlin's, and if he don't soon come back, you'll see me drop stone dead on the 

place. 

1 only wish I'd got him safe in these two Motherly arms, and wouldn't I hug him and kiss him ! 
Lauk ! I never knew what a precious he was — but a child don't not feel like a child till you miss him. 
Why, there he is ! Punch and Judy hunting, the young wretch ; it's that Billy as sartin as sin! 

But let me get him home, with a good grip of his hair, and I'm blest if he shall have a whole bone m 
his skin!'* 



-•♦•- 



A FETE AT A COUNTRY SEAT. 



n 



FROM *'TYLNET HALL. BT THOMAS HOOD. 



For some days previous to the fete, the Hive 
presented a scene of hurry, scurry, worry, and 
flurry. As usual, Twigg interfered in every thing ; 
and his voice was heard from all parts of the house, 
swearing, entreating, threatening, exhorting, di- 
recting, or disputing with his wife and daughter on 
matters of taste. Never in the days of his indus- 
try had he labored so unremittingly, so early, and 
80 late ; he really slaved bodily like a negro, while 
Fompey, the true nigger, was set to work on mat- 



ters far surpassing the dim intelligence of an African 
brain ; the most provoking blunders naturally fol- 
lowed, and the black, as might have been expected 
from one of his complexion, " played the very 
devil." Many a tumble he had over the numerous 
packages from London which encumbered the floors 
and tables, the stairs and the chairs. It was well 
the Hive did not happen to be a glass one, such 
as those which invite the spectator to observe 
the wonderful order, harmony, regularity, and 



A FBTB AT A OODSTBT BEAT. 



679 



exact diitributloQ of labor, cvlnMd b; lU hvBj 
inhabituiM. iDdeed. the Home of InduMrj much 
more reaembled ■ wup'i nest, where the peevish 
■warm were til rettlen aod irritated bj looie 
recent diMurbance. Ererr body wu oat of 
humor. Hra. Twigr scolded and wept b; turns, 
and threatened to fiunt, but had not time to spare 
for fits; and the cook fumed and broiled at her 
miMrcu'e culinarj interference. The concbman 
■nikilj heiped ia the kitchen, to whip cre&m ln9te]id 
of horses. The butler quarrelled with the footman ; 
and the housemaids among themselves. The gar- 
dener eroivlcd and erumbled while ho transported 
his hothouse plants into the open air, cropped all 
his chaiceel buds and blouoma to make bouquets 
and Bll baskets, nor did it 
make him amends for hia* 
real flowers, to see artificial 
I wreaths and fes- 
.Ing his fu 

Mercury looked as if he was 
going (o dunce in a bullet, 
and Neptune as if he had 
jnsl I'onie from Covent Gar- 
den. The grooms grew 
weary of galloping 
on coicii-horee*, is me 
Jealous tradespeople of the 
Tillage tardilj executed Or 
altogelber neglected the 
Krar orders for forgoilon 
articles which Ihey gr 
bled '■ liad bettiT have 1 
had doHU from Loodo I 



are to apt to indulge. He locked the butler in 

his pantry — sent oil the footman, when most in 
request, on friTolous errands — plugged the [upea of 
keys — fastened chairs together — set tables lopsj- 
turvy — fihut the cat in the china-closet — fastened 
the house-dog lo the gate-bell — and then was di>- 
corerod ranting is Beividera, with his clumsy pet- 
son tbrust into a new dress that had just been sent 
home for his sister. 'Tilda screamed and scolded, 
the mother begged and prayed — but the mischie- 
vous B|«rit of this domestic Caliban was not properl J 
quelled till Twigg senior had ten times turned him 
out of the business, twenty times cut him off with 
a shilling, and, at last, given him a sound cuCBng 
with his own fatherly hands. 

It seemed impossible that 
the festive preparation could 
be completed by the given 
day ; but the time came, 
aud every thing wu in 
order. As the eub had pre- 
dicted, the g ' ' 
rotted a great many enter- 
Uinmeuls into one. In the 
centre of the lawn stood a 
large marquee, containing 
an ample cold collation, 
which made a very phowy 
appearance, the principu 
djehes being kept cold by 
(he new massive silver 

bv the family emblem, ■* 
bee big enough for a cock- 
chafer Above this pavilion 

have waved, a broad silken 
banner thai had often flut- 
tered and Sauntcd in tha 
asioD of the Worship- 




680 



A FETE AT A COUNTRY SEAT. 



less as a piece of hardware. In a line with the mar- 
quee was a target for archery, so posted, that who- 
ever midsed the butt would have a fair chance of 
bitting the tent ; whilst, for the accommodation of 
anglers, the margin of the large fish-pond was furnish- 
ed with sundry elbow-chairs, wherein the sedentary 
angler might enjoy ^* the contemplative man*s recre- 
ation," in the immediate vicinity of a country dance 
and a pandean band, in those days as fashionable a 
band as Weippart's or Colinet^s at the present time. 
To accommodate the musicians, the octagon summer- 
house was fitted up as a temporary orchestra, in front 
of which stood a column of benches three deep ; 
for Twigg, on personally inviting the pedagogue of 
Prospect House, and begging a whole holyday for 
the boys, had embraced that eligible opportunity 
of borrowing all the school forms. On the opposite 
side of the garden, the orange trees and exotics 
from the hothouse formed an avenue up to an ar- 
bor, christened, for the occasion, the Temple of 
Flora, and specially dedicated to the occupation of 
Miss Twigg, who undertook, in an appropriate 
fancy dress, to represent the Queen of Flowers. 
The Hermitage, in a secluded corner of the grounds, 
had its rustic table furnished with a huge portfolio 
of colored caricatures; and the paddock was de- 
voted to trapball and cricket, the wicket for the 
latter game being considerately pitched, so that a 
bam on one side, and a haystack on the other, 
would materially assist the fieldsmen in stopping 
the ball. A whimsical feature remains to be men- 
tioned. In anticipation of syllabub, Daisy, a polled 
Aldemcy, was tethered at a comer of the lawn, a 
stone Cupid seeming ludicrously to keep watch 
over her, in the capacity of a cowboy. 

Such were the festive arrangements over which 
Twigg glanced with a satisfaction that made him 
frequently wash his hands without water or soap, 
while he mentally contrasted the gay scene before 
him with the humble prospects of his youth. He 
was dressed in a full court suit of plum color, in 
which, as Sheriflf, he had gone up with an address 
to the King ; his partner, with her embonpoint and 
her pink satin, looked extremely like that hearty 
and substantial fiower, a full-blown cabbage-rose ; 
while Tilda, in apple-green silk, festooned with ar- 
tificial fiowers, and her hair wreathed with real 
ones, appeared actually, as he expressed it, ** a cut 
above human nature." 

At the first encounter of husband and wife in 
their full plumage, she saluted him with a very pro- 
found courtesy, which he returned by an elaborate 
bow, as if in joint rehearsal of the ceremonies to 
come, and then they mutually congratulated each 
other on the propitious weather, for the sky was 
calm and cloudless, though it was rather hot for 
the season ; indeed, as Twigg said, he should have 
thought it ** very hard if a man of his property 
could not have a fine day for a fete." 

One thing puzzled the worthy pair. Few of the 
neighboring gentry had accepted their invitation, 
though the Hive was so handy, and they had car- 
riages of their own; whereas the metropolitan 
families who had been asked, came almost to a 
fraction, notwithstanding the distance was consid- 
erable, and many had to hire vehicles. It was sin- 
gular, besides, that those who had the farthest to 
travel arrived first ; guests from Bishopsgate, Lud- 
gate, and Cripplegate, came in, and had successive- 
ly made the tour of the house and grounds before 
a single soul was announced who belonged to the 



vicinity. Howerer, the intenral was a gprateful one, 
for it allowed the master and mistress of the Hive 
to feel really ** at home " with their former con- 
nections, and to indulge in the luxury of civic re- 
collections, unrepressed by the presence of their 
more aristocratic acquaintance. Mrs. Twigg ex- 
hibited to her female friends her drawing-room, 
bed-rooms, store-room, kitchen, wash-bouse, brew- 
house, and her unprofitable dairy; meanwhile 
Twigg paraded his old cronies through his dining- 
room, billiard-room, study, and stables, or trott^ 
them round the grounds, pointing out peeps and 
prospects, and then rushing back to act as show- 
man to fresh batches, who were saccessiTely usher- 
ed into the garden by Pompey, his black fiice open- 
ing from ear to ear, like a personification of Coal- 
man's Broad Grins. Ihe coachman, in topboots, 
assisted the footman ; and the gardener, a sort of 
Jerry Blossom, fancy-dressed in a strmw-hat, pea- 
green coat, skyblue hose, and parsley-and-butter 
waistcoat, trotted after his master, to give the 
proper names of the flowers and shrubs, for the 
proprietor scarcely knew a peony from a pink. 

At one o^clock all the company had arrived, ex- 
cepting the Tyrrels and the Riverses ; many of the 
younger guests coming in fancy dresses, more or 
less tasteful ; there were Swiss, Turkish, and Grecian 
maids ; nuns, Dianas, nymphs, Spanish Dons, trou- 
badours, monks, knights, a shepherd, and no lesi 
than three shepherdesses, without a sheep. The 
air was now become oppressively sultry ; but Twigg 
suffered little from the weather, in comparison with 
his hot and cold flts of nervousness and anxietj, 
originating in other causes than the mere novelty 
of his situation. First, he had to endure a long com- 
plimentary oration from Doctor Bellamy, an appro- 
priate answer to which would have cost the hearer 
more trouble than a speech in common council; 
then he had to meet the Squire for the first time 
since smashing his decanters ; — the pedagogue from 
Prospect House was perpetually addressing him 
with Latin quotations ; and he was especially pus- 
zled by the presence of the Rev. Dr. Cobb,---lbr 
archery and cricket were sports for laymen, and be 
could think of no clerical amusement, except invit- 
ing the worthy vicar every ten minutes to eat or 
drink. The occasional absences of bis son kept 
him, besides, in an intermitting fever, for he jndged 
rightly, that the cub, when out of sight, was en- 
gaged in mischief; above all, he could not help no- 
ticing (hat a damp hung over the spirits of the 
whole company, which he vainly tried to dissipate. 
The town party and the country party refused to 
amalgamate, and took opposite sides of the garden, 
like Whigs and Tories ; nay, the very sexes seemed 
to antipathize, and the young ladies planted them- 
selves in clumps on one part of the lawn, while the 
young gentlemen formed groups elsewhere. Pos- 
sibly, like the guests at the feast after the manner 
of the ancients, as recorded in Peregrine Pickle, 
each individual awaited the example of his neigh- 
bor how he was to behave or ei\joy himself at so 
unusual an entertainment ; perhaps mirth was de- 
pressed by the earnest ii^unction to be merry of 
the host and hostess, who did not know that to bid 
a wit " to be fiinny," is to desire him to be dull 
As Twigg trotted to and fro with the activity and 
volubility of a flying pieman, he indulged in such 
patter as the following : — 

*' My dear Miss Tipper, I declare, as blooming at 
ever — glad to see you — take an ice — Mrs. Crowder, 



A FETE AT A COUNTBT BEAT. 



681 



have Tou been round the grounds ? — Rev. Dr. Cobb, 
ft glft88 of wine — ^Prmy m^e free, gentlemen — Lib- 
erty Hall, Toa know — Matilda, Miss Dobbs would 
fike to see Florals Temple — ^Tilda looks well, don't 
she f — Mr. Deputy, there^ll be a collation at four in 
the tent ; but take a snack beforehand — plenty in 
the dining-room— come, young folks, be merry, be 
merry — ^what are you idl for? — there's bow and 
arrows, and cricket and fishing, and dancing on the 
green, and music— Mrs. Tilby, I know yoirre fond 
of vocals — nm, Pompey, and desire Mr. Hopkinson 
for the favor of a song — my dear, do keep an eye 

on John, he's drunk already, d n him — ^Mr. 

Sparka, a glass of wine — the same with you, Mr. 
IXowaoQ — here, this way into the green-house — 
come, bob-a-nob--« pretty scene, isn't it. Sparks, 
my old boy— «nd all my own property — ^Mr. Dow- 
son, I can't help remembering old times ; but many's 
the time Sparks and me has clubbed our shillings 
together for a treat at Bagnigge Wells. A great 
change though, say you, from that to this. I little 
thought when I wrote T. Twigg with a watering- 
tin, on a dusty pavement, that I should be signing 
it some day to cheques for thousands. I don't care 
who knows it, but I wasn't always the warm man I 
am to-day. Mr. Squire, pray step in — a glass of 
wine— glad to see you, Mr. Squire—break as much 
aa you please, and I won't say any thing ; we shall 
only be quits — now for a look about agfun — where 
the devil ia T., junior ? — Mr. Danvers, go to my 
daoghter^s bower, she'll present you with a bouquet 
—Dr. Bellamy, a glass of wine — ^Miss Trimmer, I 
know you like solitude ; and that's the way to the 
Hermitage. Don't be alarmed at the cow, she's 
only flapping off the flies — Dr. Cobb, there's lunch 
fai the dining-room — ^Mr. Cottrel, do go and divide 
those young ladies — ^beaux, beaux, what are you 
about ? — come, choose partners, don't let the band 
play for nothing — ^Mr. Crump, a glass of wine—" 

Socb was the style of Twigg's exhortations ; who, 
unlike other lecturers, endeavored to enforce bis 
precepts by practice. He made a dozen ineffectual 
offers with the trap-bat at the ball, bobbed a fish- 
ing line np and down in the fish-pond, seized Mrs. 
Deputy Dobbs, and cut a brief caper with her on 
the grass plat, and finally, fitting an arrow to a bow, 
the abaft escaped from his fingers, and passed 
through Mrs. Tipper's turban, where it lodged, like 
a skewer a la Oreeque. Such a commencement 
made every one adverse to archery, and particu- 
lariy as Mrs. Twigg requested that before shooting 
any more arrows, they would let her put corks on 
all the points. As to angling, it seemed universally 
agreed, that on such a day no fish would take a 
bait ; and with regard to dancing, Twigg's tarantula 
did not bite any more than the &h, whilst the trap- 
ball and the crieket-ball were as much out of favor 
as the ball on the lawn. Music itself seemed for 
once to have lost its charms, and the most popular 
of Mr. Hopkinflon*s songs attracted no auditor but 
Dr. Bellamy, who sat gravely bowing time, and 
waving his hand in accompaniment of the long, 
elaborate, rambling cadences then in fashion, and 
which might aptly be compared to the extraneous 
flourishes so much in vogue at the same period, 
when the pen went curveting off from plain pot- 
hooks and hangers into ornamental swans, ships, 
dragoons, eagles, and fierce faces in flowing wigs. 
Indeed, from the evolutions of Old Formality's right 
hand and fore-finger, their sweeps, and wavings, 
■nd circumgyrationB, and occasional rapid spin- 



nings, a deaf man would certainly have thought 
that he was meditating and practising some such 
caligraphic devices on the empty air. 

At last Massa, Baronet Tyrrel was announced by 
the obsequious Pompey, and the jovial Sir Mark 
immediately appeared, with his family, including 
his daughter elect, Grace Rivers, the avocations of 
the Justice not allowing him to be present so early. 
The Baronet, delivered from gout, was in excellent 
health and spirits ; Mrs. Hamilton seemed unusually 
cheerful; Raby and Grace were of course happy in 
each other's society ; and even Ringwood and St. 
Kitts appeared either to have forgotten their old 
feud, or to have agreed on an armistice for the day. 
The host and hostess were loud and eager in their 
welcome and salutations. 

♦♦ Oh, Sir Mark Tyrrel, Baronet," exclaimed Mrs. 
Twigg, in a tone of reproach, " how could you be 
so behind time? You promised to enjoy a long 
day." 

** To be sure, madam," answered Sir Mark, ** to 
judge by the field, I am rather late at tlte meet; 
but no matter — a short burst may be a merry one ; 
and as yet, from all I see, I have lost little sport." 

"Sir Mark Tyrrel, Baronet, a glass of wine?" 
said Mr. Twigg. " A votary of Diana," liijpcd Miss 
Twigg, " must be a friend to Flora, — ^may I offer a 
bouquet ?" 

" I shall bo proud and happy," returned the gal- 
lant Sir Mark, with a bow that belonged to the 
Hunt Balls ; but in stepping hastily forward to re- 
ceive the nosegay, he unluckily set his right foot 
with some emphasis on the forepaw of a little Blen- 
heim spaniel that was careering round Flora's green 
sandals. The poor brute immediately set up a 
dismal howl, and the Goddess, divesting her hands 
with little ceremony of the proffered bouquet, 
caught up the curly favorite, and began to fondle 
it in her arms. 

"D n the dog!" exclaimed Twigg, with his 

usual abruptness ; " chuck him down again, and 
give Sir Mark Tyrrel, Baronet, his bow-pot." 

" I am really ashamed of her, sir," said the mo- 
ther, stooping and presenting the flowers herself; 
"but the httle animal's a great darling, a real 
Marlbro', and a present from Mr. Ringwood." 

The Baronet winced at the information, and could 
have kicked the dog back to Blenheim with all his 
heart; while Ringwood, Raby, and the Creole ex- 
changed looks of vexation with each other, which 
gradually altered into smiles, and at last they all 
laughed in concert. There's a story current on the 
turf, of a certain jockey who very profitably dis- 
posed of three several whips, to as many gentle- 
men, as the identical whip with which he had won 
the Derby; and the keeper, or under-keeper of 
Blenheim had practised a similar imposition on our 
I three collegians, by selling to each of them the 
\ only spaniel of that celebrated breed that " was not 
to be had for love or money." However, each pru- 
dently kept the secret. Twigg took the Baronet 
into the green-house for a glass of wine; Mrs. 
Twigg invited Mrs. Hamilton to take a peep at the 
preparations in the marquee, and Matilda led Grace 
to her temple. 

« • • 4e • • 

During this interlude the dulncss of the rest of 
the company had rather increased, and the gaudy 
flag, that still drooped motionless upon its staff, 
seemed a proper emblem of their listless and inani- 
mate concUtion. They stood about the grounds in 



: A COCNTKT BEAT. 



groupe, Idle, ve^iy, snd drearj, Mid Beemed bj 
cocumon cnaaent to have adopted the litic of con- 
duct of the Hon. Ut. Dantcn, a sort of ox lU 
of thoflo daya, who, in anBwer to arcry propOH 
of amueement, luped languidly, "that he pre rr d 

" Ii'i very odd a man of my property can hs 
a merry party," thought Twigg, aa be looked ro d 
on hia grand to-do, and aan the featire ace w b 
• visible damp over il, like a wet night at Va hal 
In the bictcmeas of hia beart he sidled up Hra 
Twigg, who was stiLoding near the marque nd 

aaid to her, in a low tone, " Our friends, d 

them, are aa dull aa ditch-water. What th d a 
OBD we do with them!" 

"Nine, ten, eleven," laid Ura. Twigg, w b an 
abstracted look, aad a little nod of her h d 
each number. 

" What the is running in yonr fool's b ad 

madam?" said the master of the Hive. 

"Hush; — rourteen, fifteen, Mxtcen, aere n 
continued Mra. Twigg, with ihc action of ■ H 
dnrin. "Drat that Poinpey; I know there m 
heads than plates." And she rushed olT t at, d 
the oblivious black. The poor African, d d 
during the kst half hour, had fully entitled b se 
to receive what Twigg, junior, would have alt d a 
tegular good wigging. 

A breath of air displaying for the first t me th 
Ironmongers' banner, it was diacovered th th 
obtuse negro had hoisted it reversed, with all h 
armorial bearings of that Worshipful Compa y 
atacding on their heads ; anil in absurdly attempt- 
ing to rectify this blunder, by awarming up the 
StaiF, down came Pompcy, pole, fisg, and all, on the 
digniiied head of the Hon. Mr. Danvers, who was 
indulging his preference for looking on. His neit 
eiploit was in bowing and backing to make way 
for Mr. Justice Rivers, whereby he got a fair roll 
and tumble over Miss Bower, one of the shepherd- 
esses, who was sitting very pai«torally on the grass ; 
and by-and-by, recollecting some neglected pre- 
TiouB order, he ran olf headlong to eiccutc Kip- 
ping down a trayful of ices to thaw and disso ve 
thcmBelves into H dew, under the broiling sun A 
long hundred of such little enormities were com 
mitted by the wrong-headed Hollenlol ; but on j 
Imagine the amazement of hia mistress, wh n she 
■aw him gravely conveying a reinforcement of ake 
and wine to the green-bouse in a common hand 
barrow ;— snd conceive her still greater I orror 
when he came hack on the broad grin, n h he 
■ame vehicle containing the helpless, port y bo y 
of the coachman as drunk aa the celebrated sow f 
David. The only po.-aible thing that cou d I e 
urged in favor of the sot, was, that he was not 
cross in his cu[tf, for during his progress he pe 
dsted in singing a jolly song, quite as broad aa t 
was long, with all the voice that be had left. 

"I shall faint awayl I shall go wildl I shall 
die on the spoil" exclaimed tho distressed m s resa 
of the Hive. "I wonder where Ur. T. is That 
Porapey is enough to— has any body seen Mr T ' 
It is really cruel, — what can a woman do w th ■ 
tipsy manf Do run about, Peter, and look fo 
your moaler,— Mr. T. I Mr. T. t Mr. T. 1" 

But no one responded to the invocation, al hough 
the whole grounds resounded, gtadually, w b an 
universal call for Mr. 'Twigg. The unhappy lady 
was in despair — she feared ahe knew not what. 
When ahe laat aaw bim, he bad been worked up 







^<" 



byuess mkad d nts o an awful 

pbn m dhddneel 

b h d al run aw y in a parol 

m disgus a d fa rr ving b hke Lady 

Macbeth, to huddle up the banquet as she might. 
At laxt a popping sound attracted her to the tent, 
and there she found the wished-for personage, coi* 
ing and swearing in a whisper, and stopping with 
each thumb a bottle of champagne, which had (nf- 
fered so from the hot weather, that the fixed air 
had determined on visiting the fresh. 

" Oh, Mr. T., what would yon think !" — began th* 
poor hostees, but he cut ber short; and the follow- 
'ng dialogue ensued — 




A FETE AT A COUNTRY BEAT. 



688 



*' None of your clack, madam ; but stop those 
two bottles " — and he pointed to a couple of long- 
necked fizzlers ; " d n it, madam, stop *em tight, 

— ^you*re making them squirt in my face. Tticre 
you go agin I Whereas Pompey, — ^where's Peter, — 
wbere*8 John, — ^what the devil's the use of servants, 
if they're away when you want 'em — curse the 
champagne I — Here's a pretty situation for a man 
of my property I" 

•* My dear, do only have a little patience — ^ 

''Patience be hanged! Pve been standing so, 
madam, this half hour — ^till Fve got a cramp in both 
thumbs. I told that rascal, John, never to quit 
the tent, and you, madam, you, — with your con- 
founded she-gossips — why didn't you come sooner? 
Ill tell you what — ^if ever I have a fete again — is 
any body happy — ^is any body lively — ^will any body 
shoot at the target— or dance on the lawn — or play 
cricket? No, says you, it's a failure, a regular 
£iilare ; and as for pleasure, there an't a farming 
in the pound !" 

The colloquy would doubtless have proceeded much 
further, but for a succession of female shrieks which 
arose from all quarters at once, whereat leaving 
the champagne to take care of itself, the perplexed 

Sir rushed out, with palpitating hearts, to inquire 
to the nature of this new catastrophe. And truly 
they beheld a sight to London-bred spectators pe- 
enliarly appalling. The human groups that occu- 
pied the lawn had disappeared, and in lieu of them, 
the terrific Aldemey was racing about ** like mad," 
with her head up, and her tail bolt upright, and as 
stiffas a kitchen poker. Driven to wildness by three 
hours' exposure to a hot sun, and the incessant tor- 
menting stings of insects, poor Daisy had broken 
her tether, or more probably it had been cut for her 
by young Twigg, and she immediately began that 
headlong gallop which cows are apt to take when 
ffoaded by the breeze-fly. After running three 
heats round the lawn, she naturally made for the 
shades of the shrubbery, but being headed back by 
the gentlemen, she paused, and looked around for 
an instant, as if to consider ; and then, nuiking up 
her mind, she suddenly dashed off for the only 
place of shelter, and rushed headlong into the 
marquee. An awful crash ensued. Plate clattered, 
glass jingled, and timber banged! The ccmvas 
bulged fearfully on one side, and the moorings giv- 
ing way, out rushed Daisy, and down fell the tent 
like a clap-net, decidedly catching the cold fowls, 
ducks, and pigeons that were under it. 

A loud cry of a mixed character arose from the 
spectators of this lamentable catastrophe. The 
huiies screamed from terror ; the expectant citizens 
bellowed from hungry disappointment, and some of 
the younger gentlemen, amateurs of fun, gave a 
shout that sounded like a huzza ! 

■'She's upset the Ubles!" shrieked Mrs. Twigg, 
with her arms working aloft like a telegraph's. 

"And there goes every delicacy of the season,'* 
exclaimed Mr. Twigg, gazing with the stupefied as- 
pect of an miderwnter at a total wreck. 

"The new corers ^ groaned the lady. 

"AU battered and bruised — ^nothing but dents 
and hamps," added her husband, in the same tone. 

"And the besutiful cut glass — ^not a bit of it 
blowed,** said the hostess, beginning to whimper. 

"ftMsh*d— shirered to atoms— curse her soul!'* 
eried tlie bosli with tiie fervor of a believer in the 



**M7 poor dsmssir tsblerclothsl** moaned the 



mistress, with some indications of her old fainting 
fits. 

'* Hamstring her! — ^kill her! knock her on the 
head!" shouted Twigg, dancing on his tiptoes with 
excitement, and unconsciously imitating the action 
of a slaughter-man. 

After standing a minute at gaze, the cow had re- 
commenced her career about the lawn, causing a 
general panic, and nature's first law, the tauve gut 
pent principle, triumphed over all others. Guided 
by this instinct, Twigg rushed into the green-house, 
and resolutely shut the door against the cow, as 
well as against Mrs. Twigg, who had made for the 
same pUce of refuge. 'Ke corpulent Mr. Deputy 
Dobbs, by hard running, contrived to place the 
breadth of the fish-pond between himself and the 
"infuriated animal," — the orchestra box, aliat the 
octagon summer-house, was crowded with com- 
pany, — the hermitage, oh, shade of Zimmerman, 
what a sacrilege ! was a perfect squeeze ; and Flora 
had clambered up the lattice-work of her temple, 
and sat shrieking on the top. All the guests were 
in safety but one ; and every one trembled at the 
probable fate of Mrs. Tipper, who had been sitting 
on the end of a form, and was not so alert in jump- 
ing up from it as her juniors. The bench, on a 
mechanical principle well understood, immediately 
reared up and threw it's rider ; and before the un- 
fortunate lady, as she afterwards averred, *' could 
feci her feet, she saw the rampaging cretur come 
tearing at her, with the black man arter her, mak- 
inghcr ten times worser." 

The scared Alderncy, however, in choosing her 
course, had no design against Mrs. Tipper, but 
merely inclined to enjoy a cold bath in the fish- 
pond, into which she accordingly plunged, accom- 
panied by Pompey, who had just succeeded, after 
many attempts, in catching hold of the remnant of 
her tether. In they went — souse! — saluted by a 
chorus of laughter from the orchestra ; and there, 
floundering up to their necks in water, the black 
animal and the red one hauled each other about, 
and splashed and dashed as if an aquatic parody 
of the combat of Guy of Warwick and Dun Cow 
had been part of the concerted entertainments. 

"Confound the fellow — she'll be drown'd!" cried 
an angry voice from the greenhouse. 

" His livery's dish'd and done for," responded a 
melancholy voice from the hothouse. 

"Oh! my gold-fish will be killed!" cried a shrill 
tone from the top of the temple ; while a vaccine 
bellow resounded from the pond, intermingled with 
a volley of African jargon, of which only one sen- 
tence could be caught, and it intimated a new dis- 
aster. 

" ki ! him broke all de fishin'-rods and de lines !" 

As Pompey spoke, he exchanged his grasp of 
the halter, which had become slippery, for a clutch 
at the tail ; an indignity the animal no sooner felt, 
than with a desperate efibrt she scrambled out of 
the pond, and dashed off at full gallop towards the 
paddock, making a dreadful gap by the way in 
Flora's display of exotics, whether in tubs or pots. 
As for Pompey, through not timing his leap with 
the cow's, he was left sprawling under the rails of 
the paddock ; meanwhile the persecuted Aldemey 
finally took shelter under the shade of the hay- 
stack. 

And now the company, with due caution, came 
abroad again from roof and shed and leafy recess, 
like urchins after a shower. Twigg sallied from the 



green-bouBe, and his helpmats at the nma mDmcnt 
issued Trom the forcing-bouse, wicb a face looking 
perfect!/ rip« ; the oclif on aummer-boiue sent 
forth a rongrcguiua like ih&t of a dwarf cbapcl, — 
the hermiU)^ wa« left to the joint tenancy of 
Raby and Grace, and Flora deacended IVom the 
roof of her temple, heing tenderly aeeisled iu her 
descent by the enamored Ringwood. By common 
consent the company all baslened lowarda the faUeo 
marquee, and clearing away the canvas, they be- 
held the turf variously strewed, — exactly as if 
Time, — that Edsi Eerum, — had made a miscella- 
□eous meal which bad disagreed with blm. 

In the middle the tables lay on their sides with 
their legs etrelched out like dead horses, and the 
bruised covers, and knive< and forks, were scat- 
tered about like battered helmets and maateriess 
weapons after a ekirmisb of cavalry. The table- 
cloths were dappled with the purple blood of the 
grape ; and tbe eatables and drinkables scattered, 
battered, spattered, shaltered, and tattered, all 
round about, presented a spectacle equally whim- 
sical and piteous. The following are but a few of 
the objects which tbe Hon. Mr. Danvers beheld 
when he looked on. 

Item. A huge cold ronod of beef, surrounded by 
the froth of a triSe, like an island "begirt nith 
foam," with a pigeon perched on the top instead of 
a cormorant. 

Item. A large lobster, roosting on (he branch of 
an epergne. 

Item. A roast duck, seemingly fast otlcep, with 
a cream cheese for a mattress and a cucumber for 
a bolster. 

Item. Brawn, in an ample writing-paper ruff, 
well sprinkled with claret, reminding the spectator 
irresistibly of the neck of King Charles the Fint. 

Item. Tipxy-cake, appropriately under the (able. 

Item. A puddle of cold punch, and a neat's 
tongue apparently licking it up. 

Item. A noble bam, brilUaotly powdered with 
broken glass. 

Item. A boiled rabbit smothered in custard. 

Item. A lump of Uonc-mange dyed ptajile. 



A TETE AT A COUNTET 8KAT. 



Item. A shoal of prawns Id an ocean of lenooade. 

Item. A very flue boiled turkey in a harlequin 
suit of lobster salad. 

Item. A ship of sugar-candy, high and dry on a 
fillet of veal. 

Item. A " hedge-hog " sitting on a " hen's nesL" 
Tide Mrs. Olasse^s Cookery for the confeetianary 
devices. 

Item. " A floating island," as a new cooBtellalion. 
amongst "the moon and stars in jelly." See lira. 
Glasse again. 

Item. A large pound crab, sitting npright agaiasl 
a table, and nursing a chicken between its claws. 

Item. A collard eol, uncoiled, and threatening 
like a boa constrictor to swallow a fowl. 

Item. A Madeira pond, in a dish cover, with a 
duck drowned in it. 

Item. A pig's face, with a snout smelliDg at a 
bunch of artificial flowers. 

Item. A leg of lamb, as yellow as tbe leg of • 
boy at Christ's hospital, thanks to the mustud-pot 

item. A tongue all over "fiummery." 

Item. An immense llacedoine of all the frnitt of 
the season, jumbled together in jam, jelly, and 

Such were some of the objects, interspemd wHli 
Serpentiuca of sherry, Peerless Pools of port, and 
New Riven of Madeira, that saluted the eyes erf 
tbe expectant guests, thus untimely reduced to ths 
feast of reason and the fiow of soul. The unfor- 
lunate hostess appeared ready to drop on the spot; 
but, according to Uajor Oakley's theory, she re- 
frained from fainting among so many broken bot- 
tles j wbiM Twigg stood «ith the very aspect and 
attitude of a baker's journeyman we once saw, just 
after a scumble nbicb had pitched five rice pud- 
dings, two custard ditto, a gooseberry pie, a gd^ 
rant tart, and two dozen cheesecakes into a reser- 
voir of U'Adams's broth from flints. Tbe swamp- 
ing of bis collstiou on the ait in the Thames was ■ 
retail concern to this enormous wreck. His eye- 
brows worked, his eyes rolled, bis lips quivered 
wirh inaudible curses, and his fingers twitched, as 
be doing something, but waiting for 




inr Auirr honob. 



685 



orders from the will ; he was <i^Tided, in truth, be- 
tween a dozen riTal impulses, suggesting to him, 
all at once, to murder the cow, to thrash Pompey, 
to quarrel with his wife, to disinherit his son, to 
discharge the coolcs, to order everybody's carriage, 
to send Matilda back to boarding-school, to go to 
bed suddenly ill, to run away God knew where, to 
hang himself on the pear-tree, to drown himself in 
the fish-pond, to bum the marquee, to turn Infidel 
and deny a Providence, to get dead drunk. 

In this strain the indignant Ex-Sheriff was elo- 
qnently proceeding, when suddenly, a drop of rain, 
as big as a bullet, fell splashing on the bald head 
of the deputy ; and then came a flash of lightning 
80 vivid, and a clap of thunder so astounding, that 
in his confusion the host himself led a retreat into 
the house, followed by the company en masse. 
Music was prepared, and the carpet was taken up. 
Matilda was sulky, and wouldnH sing, and Mr. Hop- 
kinson couldn't, through a cold caught in the oc- 
tagon summer-house. Mrs. Filby was grumpy 
about her satin gown, observing, with an angry 
glance at Miss Sparkes, that if people must jump at 
daps of thunder, they needn't jump their jellies 
into other people's laps; and the pedagogue of 
Prospect House was weary of uttering classical 
jokes at which nobody laughed. The Honorable 
Mr. Danvers began to tire of looking on. Deputy 
Dobbs was disappointed of his accustomed speechi- 
IVing, for in spite of all his hints, Twigg set his 
nee against toasts, not liking probably to bid gen- 
tlemen charge their glasses who had so few to 
charge. The rest of the Londoners began to cal- 
culate the distance of the metropolis. Doctor 
Cobb had been huffed by Mr. Figgins in a dispute 
about politics ; Squire Ned, for the last half hour, 
had been making up his mind to steal away ; and 
even tbe Crumpe family, who had come early on 
pnrpote to enjoy a long day, began to agree in 
their own minds, that it was the longest they 
had erer known. In short, every body found 
some good reason for going, and successively they 



took leave. Doctor Bellamy beins the last of the 
guests that departed, whereby he had the pleasure, 
and to Old Formality it wu a pleasure, of bowing 
them all out. 

As the last pair of wheels rattled away, Mrs. 
Twigg dropped into her chair, and began to relieve 
her feelings by having what she called a good cry. 
At the same moment, Twigg threw off his coat, and 
seizing plate, knife, and fork, began eating like a 
glutton for a wager, occasionally washing down 
ham, beef, veal, chicken, jelly, tarts, and fruit, with 
great gulps of brandy and water. As for Matilda, 
she threw herself on a sofa, as flat, inanimate, and 
faded, as the Flora of a Hortus Siccus. 

Thus ended a fftte especially devoted to enjoy- 
ment, but where the spirit of the work did not 
answer to its dedication. Premeditated pleasures 
frequently terminate in disappointment ; for mirth 
and glee do not always care to accept a ceremoni- 
ous invitation ; they are friendly familiar creatures 
that love to drop in. To use a mercantile meta- 
phor, bills at long dates upon happiness are apt to 
be dishonored when due. 

On the morrow, John the coachman found him- 
self out of a situation, whilst Twigg, junior, was 
provided with a place on the roof of the Highflyer 
on its road to the metropolis. Pompey was threat- 
ened also with dismissal, but as black servants are 
not as plenty as blackberries, the discharge was 
not made out ; whereas, the gardener, shocked at 
the havoc among his exotics, and annoyed by the 
nickname of Jerry Blossom, which his fancy dress 
had entailed on him, gare warning of his own ac- 
cord. The cook received a message from her mis- 
tress, who was kept in bed by a nervous complaint, 
that she might suit herself as soon as she pleased ; 
the dairy-maid received a significant hint from the 
same source, that she must butter the family better 
if she wished to stay in it ; and to Dolly's deep re- 
gret, her favorite Daisy, with a bad character for 
gentleness, was driven off to the nearest market 
to be sold peremptorily for what she would fetch. 



-♦♦•- 



MY AUNT HONOR. 



BT AONZS STRICKLAND. 



Mt Aunt Honor was for ten years the reigning 
beauty of her native village ; and even at the end 
of that period, though the opening charms of early 
youth had gradually ripened into the more dignified 
graces of womanhood, and she was a girl no longer, 
no one could say that the change had caused that 
diminution in her personal attractions which could 
afford just reason for the loss of the title. It was 
bat the seasonable expansion of the bud into the 
flower, and in the eye of every person of taste and 
sense, my Annt Honor was a beauty stilL How, 
indeed, conld she be otherwise, with her graceful 
contoar of form and free, her noble line of features, 
brilliant yet reflectire; eyes of rich dark hazel; 
■erene brow; coral lips; and clear brunette com- 
pleidon f Bitt nnhicldly for poor Aunt Honor, she 
Dad two Yomiger sisters in their teens, who, as 
MOB WB they were emancipated from boarding- 
tdbody b<^gaa to consider the expediency of making 
floaqiiaits; and flnding that rery few gentlemen 
Tftid wnth atleiitkm lo them when their eldest 

tfaty took the trouble of making 



every one acquainted with the precise date of her 
baptismal register ; after which kind disclosure 
Aunt Honor lost the title of a beauty, and acquired 
that of an old maid. 

This change of style was, I should apprehend, 
rather a trial of patience, in the first instance ; for 
Aunt Honor, though she had never exhibited the 
slightest degree of vanity or presumption, on ac- 
count of the general admiration she had excited, 
was nevertheless pleased with the homage paid to 
her charms — and it was hard to feel herself sudden- 
ly deprived of all her flattering privileges at once, 
and that without the reasonable wamin^^ which the 
faithful mirror gives of the first indications of the 
sure, yet silent, progress of decay in those who are 
not so wholly blinded by self-conceit as to be in- 
sensible to its ravages. Time had dealt so gently 
with Aunt Honor, that when the account of his 
takings and leavings were reckoned, it scarcely ap- 
peared that she stood at discount — I am inclined to 
think the balance was in her favor ; but then I had 
so much reason to love her, that perhaps I was not 



686 



MY AUNT HONOR. 



an impartial judge. How, indeed, could I forget 
her tender cherishing care of me in my bereaved 
and sickly childhood, when by the early death of 
my parents, my brother and myself being left in a 
eomparative state of destitution, were thrown upon 
the compassion of my mother's family. This was 
regarded in the light of a serious misfortune by my 
two young aunts, Caroline and Maria, who might 
hare instructed gray hairs in lessons of worldly 
wisdom, and both possessed what is vulgarly term- 
ed a sharp eye for the main chance. They calcu- 
lated with a clearness and accuracy truly wonderful 
at their age — ^for the elder of the twain had not 
completed her eighteenth year at the period of 
which I speak — the expense of our board, clothes, 
education, and the general diminution of their 
comforts and chances of forming advantageous ma- 
trimonial settlements, which would be occasioned 
by our residence with my grandfather ; and they 
did not of course forget the great probability of his 
providing for us in his will, which would naturally 
take something from their portions of the inheri- 
tance. Under the influence of such feelings, they 
not only used every means in their power to pre- 
Tent our reception in their father's house, but after 
we were, through the influence of Aunt Honor, ad- 
mitted, they treated us with a degree of unkindness 
that amounted to actual persecution. All our little 
&ults were repeated by them in the most exaggera- 
ted terms to my grandmother ; and, but for the 
affectionate protection which Aunt Honor extended 
towards us, we should have experienced much 
harshness in consequence of these misrepresenta- 
tions, but her tenderness made up to us for all de- 
ficiencies in other quarters. She was to us in the 
place of mother, father, and every other tie of kin- 
dred : she was by turns our nurse, preceptress, and 
playfellow. Our love, our duty, our respect, were 
all lavished on her; she was our kind aunt, our 
dear aunt, our good aunt ; and well do I remember 
being tied to the leg of the table for a whole morning 
by my grandmother, as a punishment for exclaim- 
ing, in the fulness of my heart, that ** she was my 
pretty aunt, and aunts Maria and Caroline were my 
two old, ugly, cross aunts.'' The rage of the in- 
jured juniors, by twelve years, may be imagined 
at this rash proof of my devotion to their eldest 
lister ; nor could Aunt Honor, with any degree of 
prudence or propriety, interfere to avert the casti- 
gation which my young aunts bestowed upon me in 
the shape of boxes on the ears, too numerous to re- 
cord, in addition to the penance of being confined 
to the leg of grandmamma's work-table. Consider- 
ing me, however, in the light of a martyr in her 
cause, she made me more than ample amends in 
private for all I had suffered, and loaded me with 
the most endearing caresses, while she reproved 
me for having said such improper things to aunts 
Caroline and Maria. 

My grandmother, who, for the misfortune of her 
husband, was nuirried long before she knew how 
to conduct a house with any degree of propriety, 
was one of those foolish women who occasionally 
boast of their own early nuptials to their unmarried 
daughters, with ill-timed remarks on their compar- 
ative tardiness in forming suitable matrimonial 
alliances, which has too often piqued the mortified 
maidens into contracting most unsuitable m&tches, 
that they might avoid the reproach of celibacy : 
the fruitful source from which so many ill assorted 
and calamitous marriages have proceeded. 



I My grandfather, who had formed a rery just esti- 
mate of his eldest daughter's merits, was wont to 
observe, in reply to his wife's constant remark, 
** that Honor would never marry now, poor girl !" 
** Those women who were most eminently qualified 
to prove excellent wives, mothers, and mistresses 
of families, and who were, metaphorically speaking, 
the twenty thousand pound prizes in the matri- 
monial lottery, were generally left in the wheel, 
while the blanks and tickets of trifling Talue were 
drawn over and over again ; but, for bis part, he 
knew so much of men, that he would recommend 
all his daughters to remain single." Notwithstand- 
ing this declaration of the old gentleman, it was 
evident enough that he was inwardly chagrined at 
the unaccountable circumstance of his lovely Honor, 
his sensible, clever girl, the pride of his eyes, and 
the darling of his heart, being unmarried at thirty 
years of age ; or as her younger sisters, in the in- 
solence of their only attraction, youth, called her 
an ** old maid." 

No ! that he would not allow — " thirty" — she 
was in the prime of her days still, and, in his eyes, 
as handsome as ever ;— certainly wiser and better 
than when she was in her teena — far more likely to 
be the choice of a sensible man than either of her 
younger sisters — and he would bet a hundred 
guineas that she would be married now before 
either of them. 

"Certainly, papa, if wedlock goes by turn, she 
ought to be," would Aunt Caroline rejoin, ** for you 
know she is twelve years older than 1." 

" She might, however, make haste, if she thinks 
of getting married now," would Aunt Maria add, 
with a silly giggle, '* for she is getting quite vene- 
rable ; and, for my part, if I do not marry by the 
time I am one-aud-twenty, I am sure I shall con- 
sider myself an old maid." 

** There will be some wisdom in accustoming 
yourself to the title betimes, since it may rery 
probably be your portion through life, young lady, 
retorted my grandfather, on one occasion: **at 
any rate, no man of taste and sense will be likely 
to prefer you to such a woman as your sister 
Honor." But here my grandmother, who always 
made a sort of party with her younger daughters, 
interposed, and said, **It really was quite absurd 
that Honor should put herself so forward in en- 
gaging the attention of gentlemen, who might possi- 
bly fix their regards on her younger sisters, pro- 
vided she would but keep a little in the background, 
and remember that her day was gone by. She had 
for some unaccountable reason permitted several 
opportunities of forming a good establishment to 
slip by, and now she ought to allow her sisters a 
fair chance in their turn, and submit to her own 
destiny with a good grace." 

And Aunt Honor did submit, not only with a good 
grace, but with a temper perfectly angelical, not 
only to a destiny of blighted hopes and wasted 
feeUngs, but to sll invidious taunts with which it 
was imbittered by those to whom she had been 
ever ready to extend her generous kindness, when- 
ever it was required. She never hesitated to sacri- 
fice her own pleasure, if she thought it would be 
conducive to theirs. Her purse, her ornaments, 
her talents, and industry, were at their serrice on 
all occasions, and though it was far from pleasing 
to her to be either artfully manceuvred, or mdely 
thrust out of her place by the juvenile pair, who 
had formed an alliance offensive and defenalT* 



MT AUNT HONOR. 



687 



agminst her, jet she did not attempt to contest with 
them the usurped rights and privileges of elderahipf 
or to struggle for the ascendency she had hitherto 
enjoyed in the family ; nor did she boast of her 
youthful charms, or the multiplicity of her former 
conquests, in reply to the insolence with which she 
was daily annoyed. She was too dignified to ap- 
pear to regard these things ; yet doubtless she felt 
them, and felt them keenly ; her heart knew its own 
bitterness, yet suffered it not to overflow in angry, 
useless retorts. She kept the quiet even tenor of 
her way, under all provocations, with silent mag- 
nanimity ; and sought in the active performance of 
her duties, a resource from rain regrets and fruit- 
less repinings ; and if a sigh did occasionally escape 
her, it was smothered ere fully breathed. 

The village in which we resided was one of those 
dull, stagnating sort of places, in which years pass 
away without any visible change appearing to be 
effected. The inhabitants were few, and these, for 
the most part, beneath us in situation; for my 
grandfather was a man of family, though his fortune 
was inadequate to the expenses attendant on enter- 
ing into that society with which alone he would 
have permitted his wife and daughters to mix. 
Latterly, however, my two younger aunts con- 
trived to engage in a general round of expensive 
Tiaiting with the surrounding gentry, without pay- 
ing the slightest regard to his disapprobation. 
Their mother upheld them in this line of conduct, 
and had recourse to many painful expedients, in 
order to furnish them with the means of appearing 
like other young people, as she termed it, and we 
had all to suffer the pains and penalties of a stinted 
table in consequence. Aunt Honor was of course 
excluded from all these gay doings, and her allow- 
ance was very irregularly paid, and sometimes 
wholly diverted from its proper channel, to supply 
her younger sisters with ball-dresses, or to satisfy 
the clamorous milliner, who would not depart with- 
out the payment of at least a part of the bills my 
ffrandmotlier had imprudently permitted her selfish 
uivorites to contract, when ready money to pro- 
cure some indispensable piece of finery, to be worn 
at places of more than ordinary attraction, could 
not be obtained. 

Our house, in former times so quiet and respect- 
able, was now the resort of the thoughtless, the 
gay, and the extravagant. Our peace was broken 
y the domiciliary visits of duns, to get rid of 
whom, a system of falsehood, equivocation, and 
blandishment, was made use of, which rendered 
our family despicable in the eyes of servants, and 
mean even in our own. Aunt Honor reasoned, en- 
treated, and represented the evil and moral injus- 
tice of these things in vain. Her mother told her 
'* she waa mistress of her own house, and would do 
M she thought proper,** and her two sisters inform- 
ed her, " that they had no ambition to become old 
maids like her, which would infallibly be the case if 
they were confined to the dull solitude which their 
&ther preserved, and she appeared inclined to 
enforce.** 

Aunt Honor represented, in reply, that they 
were not pursuine a course venr Hkely to lead to 
the desired goal of the temple of Hymen ; and re- 
ceived, in return, a retort of more than usual 
aggravation. She was accused of malice, of •n^7t 
and an unsisterlv desire of depriving the youthful 
maidens of the {ueasuie belonging to their time c^T 
liSt ; and worse than all, of the opportiuittj of In- 



coming happy wives and useful members of society. 
Aunt Honor would have smiled at the folly of the 
latter inucndocs, had she not felt inchned to weep 
at their unkindncss. 

In the mid^t of one of these scenes, of now al- 
most daily occurrence, the whole party received 
tickets of invitation to a ball, given by Sir Edward 
Grosvenor, in honor of having been chosen, after 
a contested election, as one or the representatives 
of his native county. Sir Eda-ard Grosvenor, who 
had passed his youth in India, where he had greatly 
signalized himself under the banners of the Marquis 
of Hastings, had only recently returned to England, 
to take possession of his estates on the death of his 
elder brother without heir male. Nothing could 
exceed the exultation of my grandmother and her 
two youngest daughters, at the pros|>ect of a flat- 
tering introduction into the house of so distinguish- 
ed a character as their wealthy baronet neignbor, 
of whom fame reported noble things, and who was 
a very handsome man in the prime of life, not ex- 
ceeding, as the date of his birth in the baronetage 
of England stated, his six-and thirtieth year. 

Visions of a title, equipage, and wealth, floated 
over the brains of aunts CaroUne and Maria, as 
their delighted eyes glanced over the tickets. There 
was but one drawback to tliese felicitous anticipa- 
tions — the difliculty of procuring dresses suitable 
for such an occasion. 

They looked in eager inquiry at their mother ; 
she shook her head. ** I cannot do any thing to 
forward your wishes,** said she, "for reasons too 
obvious to you both :** — but after a pause she 
added, *' Your sister Honor can assist you, if she 
pleases.** They both turned to Honor with implor- 
ing glances. " In this instance it will not be in my 
power,** observed Honor, gravely. 

" You have only just received your quarteriy 
allowance from your father,** said her mother. 

**■ I have already appropriated part of the sum to 
the purchase of a few necessaries for my orphan 
nephew and niece,** replied she, " and the residue, 
which would be quite inadequate for your purpose, 
will be barely suflicient to supply me with a simple 
dress of book-muslin, with shoes and gloves requi- 
site for this occasion.** 

**For this occasion !** echoed both her sisters in a 
breath ; ** surclv you do not think of going to the 
ball ?** 

" Why not ?** demanded Honor, calmly. 

" You are so—** 

" Old, you would say, Caroline,** continued Aunt 
Honor coolly, finishing the sentence for her ; ** only, 
as you happen to want money of nie to-day, you 
are rather more cautious of wounding my feelings 
than is usual with you.** 

"Well, but really. Honor, I do not see what 
good your going to a ball would do.** — " None,** in- 
terposed her mother; "and I thought you had 
given up these sort of things long ago.** 

" Is it not your intention to accept the ticket 
which Sir Edward Grosvenor has sent for you,, 
mamma?** asked Honor. 

" Of course it is ; your sisters could not, with any 
degree of propriety, go without me.** 

" Then I shall do myself the pleasure of accom* 
panying you,** said Honor, quietly. 
. The oUor rfilon of dndowlh Btfor nid more 
fawoltiig tUuBi to tiiit^riiwfi hMOliM of ftity 
Ion, tOMMAiAiillilillMliMiter. <Immo In fit- 




L1BELLEK8. 



tine and )(>i4& la d«>r Aunt Honor from ^in|; to 
the ball. Sbe listened to tticm «itb ber UBual 
mildnecB of temper, yet persevered in her resolu- 

I think I neTer saw her look so beantifui u on 
thBt eventful evening, wlien Bltired in modeat, aim- 
pie elegance, she w«8 led by my grandfather to the 
cirriige, in apile of &I1 oppoeilion from the adverse 
parties. I, of course, wu not included in the party ; 
but I can readily imagine that the aurprise and 
envy of the mortified eistera of Cinderella, on en- 
tering tbe room where the hitherto despised victim 
ot their persecutions was dancing with her princely 
partner, did not exceed that of my juvenile aunts, 
whpn they beheld the hero of the nighl^-tbe gallant 
and admired Sir Edward Grosveoor — greet old 
Honor, aa they disparagingly styled their elder, 
with Ibe deferential yet tender air of a lover; and 
passing over, not only themoelves, but many others 
of the young, the fair, the highborn stars of the 
evening, and entreating to open the bail with her — 
a distinction which was modestly declined by her, 
with equal sveetncssand propriety, on the pica that 
there were others of high rank present, who were, 
according to etiquette, better entitled to that 

"ironorl" exclaimed the gallant knight of the 




he added. In awhisper that was meant for no other 
ear than hers, "sighed to poceen tUa honor, of 
which the cold considerations of nuk and etiquetta 
can never possess sufficient power to depriva me." 

Can any one believe that Aunt Honor waa fasti- 
dious enough to examine too critically the nerita 
of the pun which a faithful lover, under auch di^ 
eumstances, ventured on her name T 

There waa not, perhaps, one lady in Um room 
that wonld not have been proud of being the woman 
to whom Sir Edward GroaTcnor addrcaaed that 
whispered compliment ; bMtfaera waa none to whom 
it wu ao well due sa to her whom he delightad to 
honor ; for she waa tbe love of hia youth, who, for 
his Bake, had faithftilly endured yaara of expecta- 
tion and delay, with no other aaMranee of bia rB- 
membrance and constancy than that hopa which 
keeps alive despair, and survives all the bding 
Sowers of youthful afTection — that fond reliano* on 
his regard, which would not suiter her to imapna 
that be could be false or forgetful. Nor waa lb* 
object of such devoted love undeserving nf fnaHngl 
like these. He too had had his suSeringa ; ha had 
endured paternal wrath, expulsion from hia boaw, 
years of exile, of poverty, and of suspensa. 

"But it is all over DOW," he whispered, as he dash- 
ed an intrusive (ear from his sun^med cheek. " I 
suffered for Honor t I fought for Honor I and tb* 
residue of my days will, I trait, be pMoed with 

It was a proud d>f for my grand&ther, when ba 
bestowed hia beloved daughter on Sir Edward Gros- 
venor at the marriage altar ; and he did not fail to 
take due credit to himself on the verification of hii 
prediction. As for toy aunts Caroline and llaria, I 
think I had better say nothing of their feelings on 
the occasion ; but, for the warning of such of the 
juvenile readers of these pages who may feel in- 
clined, in the thoughtless presumptloD of early 
youth, to brand older — and, pcrcbanM, fhirer fe- 
males than themselves — with tbe contemptuous 
epithet of old maids, I feel myself eompelled to re- 
cord the mortifying fact, that theae tsro luckles* 
uslers of my honored mother remahi at thta mo- 
ment spinsters of forty and forty-two years stand- 
ing, and have acted aa bridesmaids to Lady Oroa- 
vcnor's youngest daughter, wtthont one opportunity 
having offered to either of them of changing thair 
forlorn condition. 

So far, however, from voluntarily aanimlng the 
name of old maids, if unmarried at ooe-end-twenty, 
as they engaged to do when, in the fulness of their 
self-i-onccit, Ihcy imagined suoh a circunutaiica oat 
of the bounds of human possibility, neither of 
them will acknowledge tbe title at forty ; on the 
contrary, they endeavor to conceal the ravage! of 
time under the affectation and airs of ei^sdva 
youth nilness. 



LiBRLLKiis. — Uterary bnivos, supported by ittit- 
erate cowards. If the receiver of stolen goods he 
worse than the thief, so must the purchaser of libels 
be more culpable than their author. As the pe- 
ruser of a slanderous journal would write what he 
reads, had he the talent, so the actual mahgner 
would become a malefactor, had he the opportunity 
«nd the courage. " He who atabs you in the dark, 
■with a pen, would do the same with a pen-knife, 
were he eqitally safe from detection and tbe law." 



A libeller's mouth has been compared to that of 

a volcano— the lighter portions of what it vomits 
forth are dissipated by the winds, the heavier ones 
fall back into tbe throat whence they were dis- 
gorged. The aspersions of libellers may, perhaps, 
be better compared to fuller's earth, wMch, though 
it may seem to dirt jou at first, only leaves yoa 
more pure and spotless, when it is rubbed off — 
Tin Ihimptl. 



PICTOHIAL HUMOR. 



PICTORIAL HUUOR. 



Si\piilfat, 





I haTC no room for pit; Ic 
7>m;mA Alt 4, Bui 



THE ENCHANTED NCT. 



TUE ESCHANTED NET. 



old; 
As eviDced (on the tx ptde Herculean pUn, 
Which from merely > footstep preeumeB the whole 

Br oar Savami dlnurbing thow very lirge bonEa, 
Which have turned (for the rh;me'« lake, perhaps) 
into ftonei. 

And have chosen to wait 

Long while hid in ttrala, 
Wliile old Tiwt) has been diniag on empires and 
thrones. 

Old bones and dry bones. 

Leg-bones and thigh-bones, 
BoneH of the Tertebne, bones of the tail, — 
Verj like, onlj more so, the bones of a whale; 
Bones that were very long, bones that were Terj 

(The; haie neier as jet found a real fossil merry- 
thought ; 
Perchance because mastodoot, bnri; and big, 
Coniidered all fuDuy-bonea quite i<\fra dig.) 
SkulU luve thej found in strange places imbedded, 
Which, at least, prove their owners were very long- 

And other queer thbgs, — which 'tis not my inten- 

Lest I wearj your patience, at prexent to mention. 
As I think I can prove, without further apology. 
What I said to be true, sans sppenl to geology, 
That there lived in the good old days gone by 
Things unknown to our modem philosophy. 
And a giant was then no more out of the way 
Than a dwarf is now in the present day. 

Sr Eppo of Epstein was young, brave, and bir ; 
Dark were the curls of his cluatering liair. 
Dark the mouatache that o'ersbadowed his lip. 
And his glauce was ae keen as the sword at his 

Though the cnemy't charge was like lightning's 

Gcrce shock. 
His seat was ss firm as the waTe-beaten rock ; 
And woe to the foeman, whom pride or mischance 
Opposed to the stroke of his conquering lance. 
He carved at the board, and he danced in the hall, 
And the ladies admired bim, each one and all. 
In a word, 1 should say, he appears to have been 
As nice a young " fitter" as ever was seen. 

He could not read nor write, 

He could not spell his name, 

Towards being a clerk, Sir Eppo, his (f ) mark, 

Was as near as he ever came. 

He had felt no veiatioa 

From multiplication; 

Never puzzled was he 

By the rule of three; 

The practice he'd had 

Did not drive liim mad. 

Because it all lay 

Quite a diiTereot way. 
The Ass's Bridge, that Bridge of Sghs. 
Had (lucky dog '.) ne'er met his eyes. 



In a very few words he eipresaed his inti 

Once for oil to decline every Latin declension. 
When persuaded to add, by the good Father Her- 

That most cUssical tongue to his own native German. 

And no doubt he was risht in 

Point of fact, for a knight In 
Those days was aupposed to l&e nc 



ing; 



:e nothing but fighl- 

And one who had learned any language that is hard 
Would have stood a good chance of being burned 

Education being then never poshed to the verge ye 
Now Me it, was chiefly confined to the clergy. 

Twas a southeriy wind and a cloudy sky. 
For aught that 1 know to the contrary ; 
If it wasn't, it ought to have been proper/y. 
As it's certain ^r Eppo, hie feather bed scorning, 
Thought that umitlkinff proclaimed it a fine hunt- 
ing morning ; 

So pronouncing his benisoD 

O'er a cold haunch of renisoD, 
He floored the best lialf, drank a gallon of beer. 
And set out on the Taurus to chaos the wild deer. 

Sir Eppo he rode through the good greenwood, 

And his bolts flew fast and free ; 

Be knocked over a hare, and be pwsed tiie lair 

glie tenant was out) of a grisly bear ; 
e started a wolf, and he got a snap shot 
At a bounding roc, but be touched it not. 
Which caused him to mutter a naughty word 
In German, which luckily nobody heard. 
For he said it right viciously ; 
And he struck his steed with his armj'd heel. 
As though horse-flesh were tougher than iron or 

Or any thing else that's unable to feeL 



What is the sonnd that meets his ear T 

Is it the plaint of Bom« wounded deerT 

Is it the wild-rowl*s mournful cry, 

Or the scream of yon eagle soaring high T 

Or is it only the southern brecu 

As it sighs through tbe boughs of the duk pin* 



1^ a woman's voice In grief or pain. 

Like an arrow from the firing. 
Like a stone that leavee the tlin^, 
Uke a railroad-train with a queen inside. 
With directora to poke and dJreciors to guiAr,- 1 
Like the rush apon dock when a vesMl iit rinklagi 
Like (I vow Fm hard up for a Hmile) winking 1 
In less lime than by dum jou Jack Bobiuaoa a 
call. 



dashed forward o'er hedge, 
l.o'Jow, 
a steeple-ohaao style Td b« sorry to 




THE EBCHAKTED KET. 



691 



An3 found & joiing ladj cWmpJ up by the «n1ilc — 
Yes. cbaiued up in ■ cool und buaines»-tikB way, 
Ab if nlie'd been onlj' the liitlc dog Tra; ; 
Wbile, the more ta secure tny Imjght-errant'i [Ntj, 
She Koa re&lly mid trulj eiceudn:!}' pretty. 

Here was ■ terrible state of tbin^ ! 

Ddhu froui bis saddle Sir Eppo Bpriuea, 

As lightly as if be were fumisbed »-ith wingi, 

While every pUte in bis snuor ring". 

The vonls ihut he uttered were short and few, 

But pretl; much to the purpose loo. 

"As pternlv he ftsLed, irilh lowering brow, 

" Who's been and dose it, aod where i» bo aoir f 

'Twere long to f«ll 

Each word that fell 
From the coral lipa of that demaiaeUe ; 
HoweTcr, M for as I'm able to see, 
The pi lb of the mailer appeared to tie 
That a horrible giant, twelTC feet high, 
Saving gaied on bcr charms with a covetous eye, 
Had stormed their castle, murdered papa, 
Belisved very rudely to poor dear msraraa, 
Walked oir with the familj jewels and plolc, 
Ajid the tin and herself at a terrible rate ; 

Then by way of conclusion 

To all this confusion, 

Tied her np like a dog 

To a nasty great log, 
To induce her (the brule) to become Mrs. Go)* ; 
That 'twas not the least use for Sir Eppo to try 
To chop off bis head, or to poke out hia eye. 
As he'd early io life done n bit of Achilles 
(Which, far better than taking an " Old Parr's life- 

pill"i«), 
Had been dipped in the Styi, or some equally old 

And might now face unharmed a battalion of 



Bat ahe'd thought of a scheme 

Which did certainly seem 
Very likely to pay — no mere vision or dream : — 
It appean that the giant each day tool; a nap 
For an hour (the wretch!) with hia head in her lap: 
Oh, she hated it so! but then what could »he doT 
Here ebe naosed, and Sir Eppo remarked, " Very 

And that during this time one might pinch, punch, 

or shake hiui, 
Or do jDst what one pleased, but that nothing could 

While each horse and each man in the emperor's pay 
Would not be sufflcient to move him awiiy, 
Wilboul magical aid, from the apot where he lay, 
In an old oak chesi, in an up-stairs room 
Of poor papa's castle, was kept an heir-loom, 
An enchanted net, made of iron links, 
Which was brought from Polesline, she thintu. 
By her great grandpapa, who had been a Crusader ; 
If she had but got that, she was aura it would aid 
her. 

Sir Eppo, Und man, 

ApproT«B of the |d>ii; 
8*7s hell do all she wishes as qnkk u be can ; 
B^ she won't fret if the time should seem long; 
batcbei a klcs, which was " pleasant but wronc ;" 
HouniK, and taking a fence in good roi-hmuiig 
•Ijrle, 
iff fill her family-aeat an the WelL 



The sun went down. 
The bright stars burned, 

The morning came. 
And the knight returned; 
The not he spread 
O'er the giant's bed. 
While EgUi.tine, and Hare-bcU blue. 
And some nice green moss on the spot he threw; 
Ijcst perchance the monster alarm should take, 
And not ehoose lo sleep from being too vide aieakc. 
Hark to that sound ! 
The rocks around 
Tremble — it shakes the very ground; 

While Irmongard cries. 
And lesrs stream from her eyes, — 
A lady-like weakness we must not despise, 
(And here, li>t lue add. I have been much lo blame, 
A; I long ago ought to have mentioned her mime) : 
" Here he comes 1 now do hide yourself; dear Eppo, 

pray: 
For mi) sake, I entreat you, keep out of his way." 
Scarce had the knight 
nmc to pet outofsight 
Among some thick bu^es, which covered him 

Ere the giant appeared. Oh I he wm such a fright I 
Ue was very square built, a good twelve feet in 

height. 
And his waistcoat (three yards round the wai^) 

seemed 100 light; 
While, to add even yet to all Ibis singularity, 
Ue had but one eye, and his whiskora were carroty. 



What an aniious moment I Will he lie downf 
Ah, bow their hearts beat; be seems to fro«n, — 
Ha. 'tis only an impudent fly that's been teaming 
His muilime proboscis, and set him a sueeiiug. 

Atlish hn ! attish hu t 

You brute, how I wiiih you 
Were but as genteel as the Irish lodv. 

Dear Mrs. O'Graily, 
Who, chancing lo siiceie in a noble duke's face. 
Hoped she hadn't been guiltv of splashing hia finice. 
Now, look out. Yes, he wiUI No, he won'tl Ity 



epow 



rs! 



I thought he was taking alarm at the flowers; 
Hut it luckily seems, his gigantic invention , 
Has at once set them down as a little attention 
On Irniengard's part, — done by way of suggestion 
That Khe meuiis to say ■' Yes," when bo next pop« 
the question. 



There \ he's down 1 now he yawns, and in oi 



From heel lo head, and from head to heel. 
They wrap their prey in that net of steel, 
And they crocA< the cdgea together with care, 
As vou liniah a purse for a fancy-fair, 
Till the liu>l knot is tied by the diligent pair. 
' ■ length they have ended thrar business laboriou", 
■-P ■ - — • '■^byall thatisgto. 



,MlF**'*"" 




No billing and cooing, 
Ton must up nxi be doing. 
Depend on't, Sir Knighl, this ia no time for 

TouTI discover, anlew you progresa rather smarler. 
That catching a giant's like cati:hiiig a Tartar : 
He atilt has some thirtj-STc minutes lo Bleep, 
Close lo thig apol ban|^ a precipice sleep, 
lake Shabspere's tall ctitT which thej show one at 

Dover; 
Drag him down to the brink, and then let him roll 

Aa they scarce make ■ capital crime of in&nti- 

There can't be any harm in ■ little giganticide. 



To I heave ho' roll him along 

(It's eiceedingly lucky the net's prettT atroDg) ; 
Once more — that's it — there, now, I Ihlnk 
He's done lo a turn, he rests on the brink; 
Al it again, and Over he goes 
To furnish a feast for the hooded crowt; 
Each vulture that makes the Taurus his home 
Hay dine upon giant for months to come." 

IJvea there a man so thick of bead 
To whom it must in words be said. 
How Eppo did the lady wed, 
And built upon the giant's bed 
A castle, walled and turretcdf 
We will hope not ; or, it there be. 
Defend ua from bia compuif I 



ADVICE TO JOKERS. 



A Kiw work published in London, entitled, "The 
Haod-Book of JokiuR," gives the following advice, 
which is worthy of remembrance : 

"Always let your Jokea be well-timed. Any 
time will do for a good joke, but no time will do 
for a bad one. Any place will fit, provided the 
Joke itself be fitting;, but it never Bta if a joke be 
out of its place. No man can order a joke as he 
would his coat, at Stultz's, or his boots al Hoby'a. 
Jokes are not only often out of order, but we have 
known jokers ordered out; in short, any man who 
attempts to joke out of order, should either be 
provided with a strait waistcoat, or be kicked 
oat of eocietj. Id concocting jokes m in making 



puddings, each person emploirs eimflar materials, 
but the quality of the dish is entirely dependent on 
the skill of the artiste. Aa gold becomea refined 
by passing through ihe ordeal of fire, ao troth la 
the purer for being tested by the liirnsice of fim; 
for Jokes arc, lo facia, what melting pota are to 
metal. The ultcrerof * good Joke is a uteftil mem- 
ber of Bociely, but the maker of a bad one is a 
more despicable character than the verieM ctriner 

" A joke from a gentleman is an act of cliaritT ; 
an uncharitable Joke la an nngentlemanlj act. Tike 
retort courteous is the louchstone oTgood filing; 
the reply churlish the proof of cold-headed Mnpidity." 



A HAS UILLINEB. 



A HAN HILLINEB. 



Abodt ten o'clock one Sunday moming, in the 
month of July, ISS — , the duiUng Huub«una which 
had for many houre inadiated a little diamal back 
attic in one of the clMesC courts adjoining^ Oxford 
street, in IiOndoo, and stimulated with their inten- 
sity the closed eyelids of a youn); man lying in bed, 
at length awoke him. He rubbed his eyes for some 
time, to relieTe himself from the irritation he expe- 
rienced in tliein ; and yanned and atretched his 
Umbt with a heaTy aense of weariness, u though 
his sleep bad not refreshed him. He presently cast 
his eyes on the heap of cUithes lying huddled to- 
gether on the backless chair by the bedside, and 
where be hadhaatfiy Bung them about an hour after 
midnigfat; st which llmt he had returned from a 
great draper's shop in Oxford street, wbete he 
serred as a shopman, and where he had nearly 
dropped asleep after n long day's work, while in the 
act of putting up the shutters. He could hardly keep 
his eyes open while he undressed, short as was the 
time it took Mm to do so; and on dropping ei' 
bausted into bed, there he had conlinued in deep 
unbroken slumber till tlie moment be is presented 
to the reader. He lay for seteral minutes, stretch- 
ing, yawning, and sighing, occaflionally costing an 
irresolQte eye towards the tiny fireplace, where lay 
a modicum of wood and coal, with a tinder-boi and 
• match or two placed upon the boh, so that he 
could easily light his Gre for the purposes of bIist- 
Ing and breakfasting. He stepped at length lazily 
oat of bed, and when he fell his feet, again yawned 
and stretched himself then he lit his fire, placed 
his bit of a kettle on the top of it, and returned to 
bed, where he lay with bis eyes flied on the Are, 
watching the cracking blaze insinuating itself 
throngb the wood and coal. Once, howerer, it be- 
gan to fail, so he had to gel up and asaist It by 
blowing and bits of paper ; and it seemed in so pre- 
cartoDB a state that he determined not again to lie 



iB." nr SAHtrn wabsih. 

down, but sit on the bedside, as he did with Mtarmi 
folded, ready to resume operation* if necessary. In 
this posture he remained for some time, watching hU 
tittle Gre, and listlexsly listening to the discordant 
jangling of Innumerable church-bellB, chunorously 
caUing the citizens to their deTotions, What passed 
through bis mind was something like the follow- 
ing:— 

'• Heigho !— Oh, Lord!— Dull as dileh-water 1— 
This is my only holiday, yet I don't seem to enjoy 
it — the fact is, I feel knocked up with my week's 
work. — Lord, what a life mine is, to be sure f Here 
am I, in my eight-and-twentieth year, and for four 
long years have been one of the shopmen at Dow- 
las, Tagrag, Bobbin and Company's— staving from 
seven oclock in the morning lill ten at night, and 
all for a salary of £3S a year and my board 1 And 
Mr. Tagrag is always telling me how hiji;h he's 
raised my salary. Thirty-dTe pounds a-year is oU 
I have for lodging, and appearing like a gentleman I 
Oh, Lord, it can't last, for sometimes I feel getting 
desperate — such strange thoughts I Seven killings 
a-week do I pay for this cursed hole--[he uttered 
these words with a bitter emphaws, aegompaniedby 
a disgustful look round the little room] — that one 
couldn't swing a cat in without touching the four 
sides ! — Last winter, three of our gents (i. e. his fel- 
low-shopmen) came to tea with me one Sunday 
night i and bitter cold oi it was, we made this d — d 
doghole ea hot we were obliged to opva Ibc win- 
dows ! And as for accommodations — I recollect 1 
had to borrow two nasty chairs from the people be- 
low, who, on the neit Sunday, borrowed my only 
decanter in return, and, bang (hem, cracked it 1 — 
Curse me, if Ibis life is worth having! It's all the 
Tcry vanity of vanities, and no mistake I Fag, ttg, 
fag, all one's days, and-— what for? Thirty-five 
pounds a-year, and ' no adimiKe P Bah, bells '. ring 
away till you're oil cracked! — fi'owdo you think Fm 




694 



A HAN MILLINER. 



going to be mowed up in church on this the only 
day out of the seven I've got to sweeten myself in, 
and snifl' fresh air ? A precious joke that would be ! 
Whew ! — after all, I'd as leave sit here ; for what's 
the use of my going out ? Every body I see out is 
happy, excepting me, and the poor chaps that are 
like nie ! — Evory body laughs when they see me, and 
know that I'm only a tallow-faced counter-jumper, 
for whom it's no use to go out ! — Oh, Lord ! what's 
the use of being good-looking, as some chaps say I 
am?" — Here he instinctively passed his left hand 
through a profusion of sandy-colored hair, and cast 
an eye towards the bit of fractured looking-glass 
that hung against the wall, and which, by faithfully 
representing to him a by no means plain set of 
features (despite the dismal hue of his hair) when- 
•evcr he chose to appeal to it, had afforded him more 
enjoyment than any other object in the world for 
years. ** Ah, Lord ! many and many's the fine gal 
I've done my best to attract the notice of, while I 
was serving her in the shop, — that is, when I've 
seen her got out of a carriage ! There has been 
luck to many a chap like me, in the same line of 
speculation ; look at Tom Tarnish — how did he get 
Miss Twang, the rich piano-forte maker's daughter? 
— and now he's cut the shop, and lives at Ilaekney 
like a regular gentleman ! Ah ! that was a stroke ! 
But somehow, it hasn't answered with me yet : the 
gals don't take ! Lord, how I have set my eyes and 
-ogled them — all of them don't seem to dislike the 
thing — and sometimes they'll smile, in a sort of way 
that says I'm safe — but 'tis no use, not a bit of it ! — 
My eyes! catch me, by the way, ever nodding again 
to a lady on the Sunday, that had smiled when I 
stared at her while serving her in the shop — after 
what happened to me a month or two ago in the 
Park ! Didn't I feel like damaged goods, just then ! 
But, it's no matter, women arc so ditterent at differ- 
ent times I — Very likely I mismanaged the thing. — 
By the way, wliat a precious puppy of a chap the 
fellow was that came up to her at the time she 
Btejjpod out of her carriage to walk a bit ! As for 
good looks — cut mc to ribbons" — another glance at 
the glass — " no ; I ain't afraid there, neither — but, 
heigh-ho ! I suppose he was, as they say, bom with 
a gohlen si)oon in his mouth, and never so many 
thousand a-year, to make up to him for never so few 
brains ! lie was uncommon well dressed though, I 
must own. What trowsers ! — thev stuck so natural 
to him, he might have been born in them. And 
his waistcoat, and satin stock — what an air I And 
yet, his figure was nothing very out of the way! 
Ilis gloves, as white as snow ! I've no doubt he 
wears a pair of them a-day — my stars ! that's three 
and sixpence a-day, for don't I know what they 
cost? — Whew ! if I had but the cash to carry on 
that sort of thing! — And when he had seen her into 
her carriage — the horse he got on ! — and what a 
tip-top groom — that chap's wages, I'll answer for it, 
were equal to my salary !" Here was a long pause. 
*'Xow, just for the fun of the thing, only suppose 
luck was to befall me. Ray somebody was to leave 
me lots of cash — many thousands a-vear, or some- 
thing in that line ! My stars ! wouldn't I go it with 
the best of them !" Another long pause. *' Gad, I 
really should hardly know how to begin to spend 
it! — I think, by the way, I'd buy a title to set off 
with — for what won't money buy? The thing's 
often done — there was a great biscuit-maker in the 
city, the other day, made a baronet of, all for his 
money — and why shouldn't I ?" lie grew a little 



heated with the progress of his reflections, clasping 
his hands with involuntary energy, as he stretched 
them out to their fullest extent, to give effect to a 
▼ery hearty yawn, *' Lord, only think how it would 
sound ! 

**SlB TiTTLlSAT TlTMOUSl, BaBOSIET. 

" The very first place I'd go to after Fd got my 
title, and was rigged out in §tultze*B tip-top, should 
be — our cursed shop, to buy a dozen or two pair of 
white kid. What a flutter there would be among 
the poor pale devils as were standing, just as ever, 
behind the counters, at Dowlas, Tagrag and Co.'s, 
when my carriage drew up, and I stepped into the 
shop ! Tagrag would come and attend to me him- 
self. Ko he wouldn't — pride wouldn't let him. I 
don't know, though ; what wo(ddn*t he do to turn a 
penny, and make two and ninepence into three and 
a penny. I shouldn't quite come Captain Stiflf over 
him ; but I should treat him with a kind of an air, 
too, as if — hem! how delightful!" A sigh and a 
pause. **Yes, I should oiten come to the shop. 
Gad, it would be half the fun of my fortune ! And 
they would envy me, to be sure ! How one should 
enjoy it ! I wouldn't think of marrving till — and 
yet I won't say cither ; if I get among some of them 
out and outers — those first-rate articles — that lady, 
for instance, the other day in the Park — I should 
like to see her cut me as she did, with ten thousand 
a-year in my pocket ! Why, sheM be running after 
wf, or there's no truth in novels, which Tm sure 
there's often a great deal in. Oh, of course, I 
might marry whom I pleased. W^ho couldn't be 
got with ten thousand a-year 1" Another pause. 
'' I should go abroad to Russia directly ; for they 
tell me there's a man lives there who could dye this 
hair of mine any color I liked — egad! I'd come 
home as black as a crow, and hold up my head as 
high as any of them! While I was about it, I'd 
have a touch at my eyebrows" — Crash went all his 
castle-building at the sound of his tea-kettle, hiss- 
ing, whizzing, sputtering in the agonies of boiling 
over; as if the intolerable heat of the fire bad 
driven desperate the poor creature placed upon it, 
who instinctively tried thus to extinguish the cause 
of its anguish. Having taken it off and placed it 
upon the hob, and placed on the fire a tiny frag- 
ment of fresh coal, he began to make preparations 
for shaving, by pouring some of the hot water into 
an old tea-cup, which was presently to serve for the 
purpose of breakfast. Then he spread out a bit of 
crumpled whity-brown paper, that had folded up a 
couple of segars which he had bought over-night for 
the Sunday's special enjoyment — and which, if he 
had supposed they had come from any place beyond 
the four seas, I imagine him to have been slightly 
mistaken. He placed this bit of paper on the little 
mantel-piece ; drew his solitary, well-worn razor 
several times across the palm of his left hand; 
dipped his bnish, worn within the third of an inch 
to the stump, into the hot water ; presently passed 
it over as much of his face as he intended to shave ; 
then rubbed on the damp surface a bit of yellow 
soap — and in less than five minutes Ifr. Titmouse 
was a shaved man. But muk — don*t suppoee that 
h<^ had performed an extensive operation. One 
would have thought him anxious to get rid of as 
much as possible of his abominable sandy-colored 
hair— quite the contrary. 

Every hair of his spreading whiskers was sacred 
from the touch of steel ; and a bushy crop of hab 



A MAN MnXINBR. 



695 



stretched underneath his chm, coming curled out 
on each side of it, above bis stock, like two little 
horns or tusks. An imperial — t. e., a dirt-colored 
tuft of hair, permitted to grow perpendicularly down 
the upper Up of puppies — and a pair of promining 
mustachios, poor Mr. Titmouse had been compelled 
to sacrifice some time before, to the tyrannical 
whimsies of his vulgar employers, Meisn. Dowlas 
and Tagrag, who imagined them not to be exactly 
suitable appendages for counter-jumpers. So that 
it will be seen that the space shaved over on this 
occasion was somewhat circumscribed. This opera- 
tion over, he took out of his trunk an old dirty- 
looking pomatum-pot. A little of its contents, ex- 
tracted on the tips of his two forefingers, he stroked 
carefully into his eyebrows ; then spreading some 
on the palms of his handH, be rubbed it vigorously 
into his stubborn hair and whiskers for some quar- 
ter of an hour ; and then combed and brushed his 
hair into half a dozen dificrent dispositions — so fas- 
tidious in that matter was Mr. Titmouse. Then he 
dipped the end of a towel into a little water, and 
twisting it round his right fore-finger, passed it 
gently over his face, carefully avoiding his eye- 
brows, and the hair at the top, sides, and bottom of 
his face, which he then wiped with a dry corner of 
the towel; and no further did Mr. Tittlebat Tit- 
mouse think it necessary to carry his ablutions. 
Had he been able to " see himself as others saw 
him,** in respect of those neglected regions which 
lay somewhere behind and beneath his ears, he 
might not possibly have thought it superfluous to 
irritate them with a little soap and water ; but, after 
all, he knew best ; it might have given him cold ; 
and besides, his hair was very thick and long be- 
hind, and might, perhaps, conceal any thing that 
was unsightly. Then Mr. Titmouse drew from un- 
derneath the bed a bottle of Warren^s ** incompara- 
ble blacking," and a couple of brushes, with great 
labor and skill polishing his boots up to a wonder- 
ful point of briUiancy. Having washed his hands, 
and replaced his blacking implements under the 
bed, he devoted a few moments to boiling about 
three teaspoonfuls of coffee (as it was styled on the 
paper from which he took, and in which he had 
bought it^ — whereas it was, in fact, chicory.) Then 
he drew forth from his trunk a calico shirt, with 
linen wristbands and collars, which had been worn 
only twice since its last washing — i. e., on the pre- 
ceding two Sundays — and put it on, taking great 
care not to rumple a very showy front, containing 
three little rows of frills; in the middle one or 
which he stuck three " studs,** connected together 
with two little gilt chains, looking exceedingly sty- 
lish — especially coupled with a span-new satin stock, 
which he next buckled round his neck. Having put 
on his bright boots (without, I am sorry to say, any 
stockings) he carefully insinuated his legs into a 
pair of white trowsers, for the first time since their 
last washing ; and what with his short straps and 
high braces, they were so tight that you would have 
feared their bursting, if he should have sat hastily. 
I am almost afraid that I shall hardly be believed, 
but it is a fact, that the next thing that he did was 
to attach a pair of spurs to his boots ; — but, to be 
sure, it was not impotnbU that he might intend to 
ride during the day. Then he put on a queer kind 
of uider-waistcoat, which in fact was only a roll-collar 
of rather faded pea-green silk, and designed to set off 
a Tery fine flowered damson-colored silk waistcoat ; 
OTer whidi he drew a massive mosaic gold chain 



(to purchase which he had sold a serviceable silver 
watch) which had been carefully wrapped up in cot- 
ton wool ; from which soft depository, also, he drew 
HIS RING (those must have been sharp eyes that 
eould tell, at a distance, and in a hurry, that it was 
not diamond), which he placed on the stumpy little 
finger of his red and thick right hand — and contem- 
plated its spNirkle with exquisite satisfaction. 

Having proceeded thus far with his toilet, he sat 
down to his breakfast, spreading the shirt he had 
taken off upon his lap, to preserve his white trow- 
sers from spot or stain — his thoughts alternating 
between his late waking vision and his purposes for 
the day. He had no butter, having used the last 
on the preceding morning ; so he was fain to put 
up with dry bread — and very dry and teeth-trying 
it was, poor fellow — ^but his eye lit on his ring 1 
Haring swallowed two cups of his ^tMut-coffee, 
(eugh ! such stuff!) he resumed his toilet, by draw- 
ing out of his other trunk his blue surtout, with em- 
bossed silk buttons and velvet collar, and an outside 
pocket in the left breast. Having smoothed down 
a few creases, he put it on. Then, before him the 
little vulgar fraction of a glass, he stood twitching 
about the collar, and sleeves, and front, so as to 
make them sit well ; concluding with a careful elon- 
gation of the wristbands of his shirt, so as to show 
their whiteness gracefully beyond the cuff of his 
coat-sleeve — and he succeeded in producing a sort 
of white boundary line between the blue of his coat- 
sleeve and the red of his hand. At that useful mem- 
ber he could not help looking with a sigh, as he had 
oflcn done before — for it was not a handsome hand. 
It was broad and red, and the fingers were thick 
and stumpy, and very coarse deep wrinkles at every 
joint. His nails also were flat and shapeless ; and 
he used to be continually gnawing them, till he had 
succeeded in getting them down to the quick — and 
they were a sight to set a Christianas teeth on edge. 
Then he extracted from the first-mentioned trunk a 
white pocket-handkerchief — an exemplary one, that 
had gone through four Sundays* show (not «««, be 
it understood,) and yet was capable of exhibition 
again. A pair of sky-colored kid gloves next made 
their appearance ; which, however, showed such 
barefaced marks of former service as rendered in- 
dispensable a ten minutes' rubbing with bread 
crumbs. His Sunday hat, carefully covered with 
silver-paper, wa^ next gently removed from its well- 
worn box — ah, how lightly and delicately did he 
pass his smoothing hand round its glossy surface ! 
Lastly, he took down a thin black cane, with a gilt 
head, and full brown tassel, from a peg behind the 
door — and his toilet was complete. Laying down 
his cane for a moment, he passed his hands again 
through his hair, arranging it so as to fall nicely on 
each side beneath his hat, which he then placed 
upon his head, with an elegant inclination towards 
the left side. He was really not bad-looking, in 
spite of his sandy-colored hair. His forehead, to be 
sure, was contracted, and his eyes of a very light 
color, and a trifle too protuberant ; but his mouth 
was rather well-formed, and being seldom closed, 
exhibited very beautiful teeth ; and his nose was of 
that description which generally passes for a Roman 
nose. His countenance wore generally a smile, and 
was expressive of— self-satisfaction ; and surely any 
expression is better than none at all. As for the 
slightest trace of intellect in it, I should be mislead- 
ing the reador if I were to say any thing of the sort. 
He was about five feet five inches in height, and 



A UAN MILLINKK. 



niher itrongly set, vilh a. Utile tendency to round 
ahoulders ; but bin limbo were pliant and his moliooa 
biinble. _ 

Here fou have, then, Mr. Tittleba 



ibe life— certainly i 
of hia kind. Well— ha 
put hia hat on, as I hare 
■aid i buttoned tbe low- 
est tKO buttons of hiH 
■uriout, and stuck his 
white pocliet-hand ker- 
chief into the outside 
povket in front, ae al- 



■ than an BTerage sample 



Olet 



with ■ 



t of c 



■eful 



carcleiisDess — a graceful 
contnut to the blue ; 
drew on bis glotvti ; 
took hia cane in his 
hand ; drained the list 
aad remnant in his cof- 
fee-«up; and, Ihe sun 
■hining in the full epien- 
dor of a July noon, and 
promising a glorious 
day, forth sallied this 
poor fellow, an Oxford 
street Adonis, going 
forlh conquering and to 
conquer! Petty fin 



imach wilhin ; a cane of Bock itri 




tlie Borrow, creoking, close sluircrme, which he had 
not quitted befon> he beard exclaimed fnim nn op- 
|nmile window, " My eyes, ain't that a swell !" He 
felt how inie the obr^erration was, and that at that 
moment he was somewhat out of his element ; so he 
hurried on, and soon reached the ffreat broad street, 
s|>ostrophtn;d by the celebrated Opium-Knter, with 
bitter feelinf;, as — " Oiford Bireet ! — slony-bearted 
step-mother! — Thou (hat lislenest to (he sighs of 
orphans, and driiikeat the tears of children." Here, 
though hia spirits were not juht then very buoyant, 
the p)Or dandy breathed more freely than when he 
was passing through the nasty crowded court 
(Closet Court) wbiuh he bad juat quitted. He 
passed and met huiidredH who, like liimHelf, seemed 
released for a precious day's interval from inlcniii 
toil and miserable conllnement during the week 
but there were not many of them who had any pre 
trnsions to vie with him in elegante of appearance — 
■nd that wag a lumrii I Who could do justice to 
tbe air with which ho etrutted along? He fell as 
happy, poor soul, in his little ostentation, as his Co- 
rinthian rival in tip-lop turnout, after twice as long, 
and as aniious, and fifty liniea as eipensive prepara- 
lions for efii'diTe public display ! Kay, mv poor 
ewell was greatly the superior of such it one as I 
hare alluded to. Titmouse did, to a great degree, 
bedizen his back at the expense of his belly; where- 
as, the Corinthian cxquisile. too often taking advan- 
tage of nation and influence, recklessly both sati- 
ates his appolito within, and decorates his person 
without, at Ibe expense of innumerable heart-aching 
creditors. I do not mean, however, to chiim any 
K'al merit for Titmouse On this Score, because I am 
uol iura how be would act if be were to become 



poasessed of his magnificent rtval'a means and op- 
portuniliea for tbe perjietration of gentlemanly 
frauds on a splendid scale. But wo shall, perhapf, 
see by and by. He walked along with leisBitly 
step; for haste and perspiration were vulgar, and 
be had the day before him. 

Observe the careless glance of Mlf-«atilfaeliOD 
with which be occaiion^ly renrded fab brigbt 
boots, with their martial appendage, giving out • 
faint tingling sound as he heavily trod the broad 
flags; his s])0lleu trowsers, his tight mrtoat, and 
the tip of white handkerchief peeping acddenially 
out in front t A pleasant sight it wu to behold 
him in a chance rencontre with some one genteel 
enough 10 be reeogniied — as he stood, resting on 
his icit leg; his left arm stuck npon his hip; bis 
right leg easily beat outwards; his right hand 
lightly holding hia ebon cane, with Uie gin head of 
which he occaMonally tapped his teeth ; and bis 
eyes, half-clowd, scrutinizmg the face and flgnie of 
each "pretty gaC" as she passed 1 This vat indeed 
happiness, as fur as liis forlorn condition could id. 
mit of his enjoying it. Be had no particular object 
in view. A tiff over night wilb two of hia shop- 
males bad broken oCT a party vhieh they had agreed 
the Sunday preceding in forming, to go to Green- 
wich on the ensuing Sunday; and this fattle circom. 
slancc a little soured hia temper, depreaaed as were 
his spirits before. He resolved to-day to walk 
atraiglil on, and dine somewhere a little way oul of 
town, by way of passing the time till four o'clock, 
at which hour he intended to make hia appearance 
in Hyde I'ark, " to See the fashions," which was his 
favorite Kunilay ovcupalion. 

His cotidilion wus, mdeed, forlorn in the extreme. 
To ssy nothing of his prmptcti In life — what wu 
bis preiient cunilllion t A shopman, with ilSfi a-year, 
out of which he hod to find his clotliing, washing, 
lodging, and all other incidental eipenees — luB 
board being found him by bis employers. He was 
fire weeks in arrear to hia landlady — a corpident 
old termagant, whom nothing could have induced 
, him to risk offending, but his overmastering love of 
I finery ; for 1 grieve to say, that this deficiency had 
- been occasioned by his purehase of the ring he theo 
I wore will) so much pride. How he bad contrived 
to pacify her — lie upon lie as he must have had re- 
j course 10 — I know nol. He was b debt, too, to hia 
' poor washerwoman in sii or seven shillings tor 
I nearly a quarter's washinfr; and owed five timea 
I that amount to a Uttle old tailor, who, wiifa huge 
' spectacles on bis nose, turned up to him, out of a 
I litlle ciipboaiil which he occufHed in Closet Court, 
I and which Titmouie hod to para whenever be went 
' 10 or from his lod);ings, ■ lean, sallow, wrinkled 
i face, imploring him lo "settle his small account.' 
All the cojib in hand which he had to meet cODtin- 
I gcncicH between that day and quarleiHlay, wluch 
was six weeks olf, was about twenty-sii ihillings, of 
which ho hud taken one for the present day's ex- 

Revolving these eanewhat disheartenitig matters 
In his mind, ho passed easily and leisurely along ths 
whole length of Oxford street Ko one could aavs 
judged from his dressy appearance, the constant 
smirk on his face, and hia confident air, how very 
miserable that poor dandy was ; but three^Mrlhf 



THE F1R8T-FLOOB LODOGB. 




J a plain mercantile edncalion, ai It is called, 
'.. riding, wriling, and arithmetic : be^'ond a 
J moderate acquaintance with these, he linew 
.hipg wliatever ; not haTJog read more than a few 
reli, and plajs, and sporting newepapen. 
)n he walked towards Bajsvater ; and finding it 



wat 7et early, and conaidertng that the farthest he 
went from town the better prospect there was orhi* 
being able, with a little lacrifice of appearances, to 
get a dinner coosiatent with the meana he carried 
about with him, Tiz., one shilling, he pursued his 
way a mile or two beyond Bayswater, and. Sure 
enongb, came at length upoo a nice little public- 
bouHC on the roadside, called the Squaretoea Anus. 
Very tired, and quite smothered with duet, he first 
Bat down in a small back room to rest hlmnclf i and 
took the opportunity to call for a clothes-brush and 
shoe-brUBh, to relieve hia clothes and boots from 
the heavy dust upon them. Having thus attended 
to hia outer man, aa far as circumstances would per- 
mit, he bethought himself of hia inner man, ohose 
craving! he satisfied with a pretty imbetantial mut- 
ton-pie and a pint of porter. This fare, together 
witl] a penny to the little girl who waited on bim, 
cost liim lenpence ; and haiin); somewhat rett-eshed 
himself, he began to think of returning to town. 
Having lit one of his two segars, he sallied forth, 
pulling along with an air of quiet enjoyment. Din- 
ner, however liumble, seldom fails, especially when 
accompanied by a fcir draught of good porter, In 
some considerable degree to tranquillize tiie anima] 
spirits; and that soothing effect began soon to be 
experienced by Mr. Titmouse. The sedative tatat 
he erroneously attributed to the segar he was 
smoking; whereas in fact the only tobacco he had 
imbibed was from the porter. But. however that 
might l>e, he certainly returned towards town in a 
far calmer and even more cheerful humor than that 
in which be had quitted it an hour or two bcfor«. 



THE riBST-FLOOS LODGEtt. 






It M happens that, throughout mj life, I have 
had occauoD only for half a house, and, from mo- 
lives of economy, have been unwilling to pay rent 
for a whole one ; but — there can be on eartb, I find, 
no resting-ptace for him who is so unhappy as to 
want onlj "half a house." In the course of the 
last eight years, I have occupied one hundred and 
forty-tliree difftrent lodgings, running the gauntlet 
twice through alt London and Westminster, and. 
ottener than I can remember, the "out-parishcs" 
through I A« " two removes" are as bad as a fire, 
it follows that 1 have gone seventy-one limes and a 
half through tbe horrors of conSagration ! And, in 
every jrface where I have lived, it has been my fate 
to be domiciled with a mooslerl But my voice 
shall be heard, as a voice upon tbe house-lop, cry- 
ing out until I find relief^ I have been ten days al- 
ready in tbe abode from wMoh I now write, so I 
cannot, in reason, look to stay more than three or 
four more. I hear peo|^ talk of " the grave" as a 
lodging (at worst) that • mania "sore of;" but, if 
Ibere be one renrrection-man alive when I die, as 
sore as quatter^ay, I shall be taken ap again. 

The SrM trial I endured when I came to London, 
«M naldnK tbe tour of all the boarding-houses — 
being delMed, I beUere, teriatim, by every pre- 
•eripciTc fbnn of "advertisement." 

nnt, I was lured by the pretence modest — this 
appeared in Tit Urn** all the jear round " De- 



sirable circle" — "Airy ^tuaUon" — "Umlted cmn- 
ber of guests" — " Every attention" — and " no 
children." 

Kelt, was the commanding — at the very "head 
and front" of Ihc Morning Pott. " Vicinity of the 
fashionable Squares!" — '"Two persons, to increase 
society" — "Family of condition"— and "Terms at 
Mr. Same's, the bookseller's." 

Then came the irresistible. "Widow of an ofB- 
cer of rank"— " Unprotected early in life"— "De- 
sirous to eitend family circle"-" blatters herself," 
etc. Moonshine all together 1 "Deniiable circle" 
— a bank clerk and live daughters who wanted hus- 
bands. Brandy and water al^r supper, and hooby 
from Devonshire snapl up before ray eyes. Lillle 
boy, too, io the family, tliat belonged to a sister 
who " had died." I hale scandal ; but I never could 
find out where Ihal sister had been buried. 

"Fashionable Square"— Tbe fire, to the frying- 
pan 1 The worst Urm—{oa conBideralion>— in all 
my eiporience. Dishes Kithoul meat, and beds 
without blankets. " Terms," " two hundred guineas 
a-ye»r," and surcharges for night-candle. And, as 
for dinner I as I am a Yorkshireman, 1 never knew 
what It meant while 1 was in Manchester Square ! 

I have bad two stop-mothers, Mr. Editor, and I 
was sii months at a preparatory school, but 1 never 
saw a woman since I was bom cut meat like Lady 
Catharine SkinfiintI There was a transparency 



t riBST-FLOOR LODOEB. 



tbout her slice «hioh (■fler > good luocheon) one 
could paiue uid look U, Sbe would cover you > 
whole pt>l« with fillet of veal and ham, uid not in- 
cre»«e the weight of it half «n ounce. 

And then the Hissci SkinfintB—lur knowledge of 
utatomy — their cutting up a rowl!~-In the puniest 
hair-staried chicken thai ever broke the heart of a 
brood-hen to look at, the j would find you side-bone, 
juoion, drum-atick, liver, gizzard, rump and merry- 
tbougbtl and, even buyond this critical acquaint- 
ance with all admitted — and apocryphal — divisions 
and dialinctiong, I have caught (he eldest of them 
actually inventing new joints, thai, even in specula- 
tion, never before eiialed I 

I understand the meaning now of the Persian 
■alutation — "May your shadow never be less!" I 
lost mine entirely in about a fortnight that 1 staid 
U Lady Skinflint's. 

Two more hosts took me "at livery" (besideB the 
" widow" of the " officer of rank") — an apothecary, 
who made patients of hb boarderti, and an ntlorney, 
who looked for clients among tbem. I got away 
from (be medical gentleman rather hastily, for I 
found Ibat the paatrj-cook who served the house 
was his brother; and the lawyer was so pressing 
■bout " discounts," and " investments of properly," 
that I never ventured (o sign my name, even to a 
irashing-bill, during tbe few days 1 was in his bouse ; 
on quitting the which, I took courage, and, renolv- 
Ing to become my own provider, hired a "First 
floor," accordingly (" unfumiBhed") in the neighbor- 
hood of Bloooubury Square. 



Uutit 






[ ordered a < 



a of my career amounted to an 
•scape. I ordered a earte blanche outfit from an 
upholsterer of Piccadilly, determined to have my 
"apartments" uneiueptionable before I entered 
them J and discovered, after a hundred pounds laid 
out in painting, decorating, and eurtdn -fitting, that 
the "ground landlord" had certain claims which 
would be liquidated when my property " went in." 
This miscarriage Ifade me so cautious, that be- 



fore I would choose again, I was the «woni bormr 
of every auctioneer and house-agent (so called) in 
London. 1 refused twenty offers, at least, becaoae 
they had the appearuice of being " great tuu^ains." 
Eschewed all houses as though tbej had the plague, 
in which I found that "single gentlemen were pre- 
ferred." Was threatened with three actions for 
defamation, for queslioniitg the solvency of persona 
in business. And, at length, was so lucky as (o bit 
upon a really desirable mansion! The "tamilj" 
perfectly respectable { but had " more room" than 
was necessary for them. Demanded the "strictest 
references," and accepted no inmate for "less than 
a year." Into this most unexceptionable abode 1 
conveyed myself and my property. Sure I should 
slay for ever, and doubted whether I ought not to 
secure it at once for ten yeara instead of one. And 
before I had been settled in the bouse three quar- 
ters of an hour, J found (hat the chimneys — every 
one of tliem ! smoked, from the top to tbe boltom'! 
There was guilt, reader, in the landlord'a eye, the 
moment the first pulT drove me out of my drawing- 
room, lie made an effort to say something like 
"damp day;" but the "amen" stuck in his throat. 
He could not say "amen," when I did cry "God 
bless us!" Tbe whole building, from the kitchen 
to the garret, was infected with the malady. 1 hid 
noticed the dark complexions of the family, and 
had concluded they were from the West Indies, — 
Ibey were smoke-dried : — 



Blow high, bl 



iwl 



I suffered sii weeks under excuses, knowing them 
to be humbug oil tbe while. For a wbole month it 
was "the wind;" but I saw "the wind" veer tsice 
all round the compasa, and found, blow which wav 
it would, it still blew down my chimney ! 

Then we conic to " cures." Krst, there were al- 
terations at the lop — new chimney-pots, cowls, 
hovels — and all making the thing worse. Then we 
tried at the bottom — grates reset, and flues con- 
Iracted — still to no purpose. Then we came lo 
burning charcoal ; and in four days I was ic a dr- 




THE FIRST-FLOOB LODOEB. 



699 



cline. Then we kept the doora and windows open ; 
and in one day I got a fit of the rheumatism. And 
in spite of doom or windows, blowers, registers, or 
Count Rumford — ^precaution in putting on coals, or 
mathematical management of poker — down the 
enemy would come to our very faces, — poof! poof! 
— as if in derision I till I prayed heaven that smoke 
had life and being, that I might commit murder on 
it at once, and so be hanged ; and at length, after 
throwing every movable I could command at the 
grate and the chimney by turns, and paying ** no 
core no pay" doctors by dozens, who did nothing 
but make dirt and mischief, I sent for a respectable 
surveyor, paid him for his opinion beforehand, and 
heard that the fault in the chimneys was ** radical,'^ 
and not to be remedied without pulling the house 
down! 

I paid my twelvemonth^s rent, and wished only 
that my landlord might live through his lease. I 
heard afterwards, that he had himself been imposed 
upon ; and that the house, from the first fire ever 
lighted in it, had been a scandal to the neighbor- 
hood. But this whole volume would not suffice to 
enumerate the variety of wretchedness — and smoky 
chimneys the very least of them ! — ^which drove me 
A second time to change my plan of life ; the num- 
berless lodgings that I lived in, and the inconveni- 
ences, greater or lesser, attending each. In one 
place, my servants quarrelled with the servants of 
** the people of the house." In another, ** the peo- 
ple of the house^s" servants quarrelled with mine. 
Here, my housekeeper refused to stay, because the 
kitchen was ** damp." There, my footman begged 
I would ** provide myself," as there were *' rats in 
his cockloft." Then somebody fell over a pail of 
water, left upon ** my stairs ;" and " my maid" de- 
clared it was ** the other maid" had put it there. 
Then the cats fought ; and I was assured that mine 
had given the first scratch. On the whole, the dis- 
putes were so manifold, always ending to my dis- 
comfiture, — for the lady of the mansion would as- 
sail me, — I never could get the gentleman to be 
dissatisfied, (and so conclude the controversy by 
kicking him down stairs,) — that seeing one clear 
advantage maintained by the ground possessor, viz., 
that I, when we squabbled, was obliged to vacate, 
and he remained where he was, I resolved, once for 
all, to turn the tables upon mankind at large, and 
become a " landlord" and a ** housekeeper," in my 
own immediate person. 

** SiVf the gray goote hath laid an egg. — ^^tV, the 
old bam doth need repair. — The cook etcearethy the 
tneat doth bum at the fire. — John Ihcmae is in the 
9tock* ; and every thing stage on your arrival.^^ 

I would not advise any single gentleman hastily 
to conclude that he is in distress. Bachelors are 
discontented, and take wives; footmen arc ambi- 
tious, and take eating-houses. What does either 
party gain by the change ? '* We know," the wise 
man has said, **what we are; but we know not 
what we may be.** 

In estinyating the happiness of householders, I 
had imagined all tenants to be like myself, — mild, 
forbearing, punctual, and contented ; but I *^ kept 
house" three years, and was never out of hot water 
the whole time I I did manage, after some trouble, 
to get fidrly into a creditable mansion — just missing 
one, by a stroke of fortune, which had a brazier's 
shop at the back of it, and was always shown at 
hours when the workmen were gone to dinner — and 
MDt a notice to the papers, that a bachelor of sober 



habits, having ** a larger residence than he wanted,** 
would dispose of half of it to a family of respecta- 
bibty. But the whole world seemed to be, and I 
think is, in a plot to drive me out of my senses. In 
the first ten days of my new dignity, I was visited 
by about twenty tax-gatherers, half of them with 
claims that I had never heard of, and the other half 
with claims far exceeding my expectations. Tl^e 
householder seemed to be the minister's very milch 
cow — the positive scape-goat of the whole commu- 
nity ! I was called on for hou^e-tax, window-tax, 
land-tax, and scrvant's-tax ! Poor's-rate, sewers'- 
rate, pavement-rate, and scavengers'-rate ! I had 
to pay for watering streets on which other people 
walked ; for lighting lamps which other people saw 
by ; for maintaining watchmen who slept all night ; 
and for building churches that I never went into. 
And — I never knew that the country was taxed till 
that moment ! — these were but a few of the *' dues" 
to be sheared off from me. There was the clergy- 
man of the parish, whom I never saw, sent to me 
at Kaster for " an offering." There was the charity- 
school of the parish, solicited " the honor" of my 
** subscription and support." One man came to in- 
form me that I was *' drawn for the militia," and 
offered to '* get me off," on payment of a sum of 
money. Another insisted that I was " chosen con- 
stable," and actually brought the insignia of office 
to my door. Then I had petitions to read (in 
writing) from all the people who chose to be in dis- 
tress; personal beggars, who penetrated into my 
parlor, to send to Bridewell, or otherwise get rid 
of. Windows were broken, and "nobody" had 
'* done it," The key of the street door was lost, 
and ** nobody" had " had it." Then my cook stopped 
up the kitchen "sink ;" and the bricklayers took a 
month to open it. Then my gutter ran over, and 
flooded my neighbor's garret; and I was served 
with notice of an action for dilapidation. 

And at Christmas ! — Oh ! it was no longer deal- 
ing with ones and twos! — The whole hundred, on 
the day after that festival, rose up, by concert, to 
devour me ! 

Dustmen, street-keepers, lamplighters, turncocks, 
postmen, beadles, scavengers, chinmey-sweeps — the 
whole pecus of parochial servitorship were at my 
gate before eleven at noon. 

Then the "waits" came — ^two sets! and fought 
which should have " my bounty." Rival patrols 
disputed whether I did or did not lie within their 
"beat." At one time there was a doubt as to 
which, of two parishes, I belonged ; and I fully ex- 
pected that (to make sure) I should have been vis- 
ited by the collectors from both! Meantime the 
knocker groaned, until very evening, under the dull, 
stunning, single thumps— each villain would have 
struck, although it had been upon the head of his 
own grandfather ! — of bakers, butchers, tallow- 
chandlers, grocers, fishmongers, poulterers, and oil- 
men ! Every ruffian who made his livelihood by 
swindling me through the whole year, thought him- 
self entitled to a peculiar benefJEiction (for his rob- 
beries) on this dp v. And 

IIoBt I no by my life I scorn tho namo ! 

All this was child's play — bagatelle, I protest, and" 
" perfumed," to what I had to go through in the 
"letting off" of my dwelling! The swarms of 
crocodiles that assailed me, on every tine day — 
three-fourths of them, to avoid an impending show- 
er, or to paGS away a stupid morning — in the shape 



700 



THE FIBST-FLOOB LODGES. 



of stale dowagers, city coxcombs, ** professional 
gentlemen," and ** single ladies!" And all (except 
a few that were swindlers^ finding something wrong 
about my arrangements! Gil Bias* mule, which 
was nothing but faults, never had half so many 
faults as my house. Carlton Palace, if it were to be 
** let" to-morrow, would be objected to by a tailor. 
One man found my rooms "too small;" another 
thought them rather "too large;" a third wished 
that they had been loftier ; a fourth, that there had 
been more of them. One lady hinted a sort of 
doubt, *' whether the neighborhood was quite re- 
spectable ;" another asked, " if I had any family ;" 
and, then, "whether I would bind myself not to 
have any during her stay." Two hundred, after de- 
taining me an hour, had called only " for friends." 
Ten thousand went through all the particulars, and 
would " call again to-morrow." At last there came 
a lady who gave the coup-de-grace to my " house- 
keeping ;" she was a clergyman's widow, she said, 
from Somersetshire ; if she had been an " officer's" 
I had suspected her ; but, in an evil hour, I let her 
in ; and — she had come for the express purpose of 
marrying me ! Sometimes she heard a mouse be- 
hind the wainscot, and I was called in to scare it. 
Her canary bird got loose ; would I be so good as 
to catch it ? I fell sick, but was soon glad to get 
well again ; for she sent five times a day to ask if I 
was better ; beside pouring in plates of blanc mange, 
jellies, cordials, raspberry vinegar, fruits fresh from 
the country, and hasty -puddings made by her own 
band. And, at last, after the constant borrowings 
of books, the eternal interchange of newspapers, 
and the daily repair of crow-quills, the opinions up- 
on wine, and the corrections of hackney coachmen, 
I determined to get rid of many troubles at once ; 

I therefore presented Mrs. F with my house, 

and every thing in it, and determined never again, 
as a man's only protection against female cupidity, 
to possess even a tooth-brush that I could legally 
call my own. 

This resolution, gentle reader, compelled me to 
shelter myself in " furnished lodgings," where the 
most of accommodation, (sublunary!) after all, I be- 
lieve, is to be found. I had sad work, as you may 
imagine, to find my way at first. Once I ventured 
to inhabit (as there was no board in the case) with 
a surgeon. But, what between the patients and 
the resurrection-men, the " night bell" was intoler- 
able ; and he ordered the watchman, too, I found, 
to pull it privately six or seven times a-week, in or- 
der to impress the neighborhood with an opinion of 
his practice. From one place I was driven away by 
a music-master, who gave concerts opposite to me ; 
and at a second, after two days' abiding, I found 
that a madman was confined on the second fioor ! 
Two houses I left because my hostesses made love 
to me. Three, because parrots were kept in the 
streets. One, because a cock (who would crow all 
night) came to live in a yard at the back of me ; 
and another, in which I had staid two months, (and 
should perhaps have remained till now,} because a 
boy of eight years old (there is to me no earthly 
creature so utterly intolerable as a boy of eight 
vearsold!) came home from school to "pass the 
holidays." I had thoughts, I don't care who knows 
it, of taking him off by poison ; and bought two 
raspberry tarts to give him arsenic in, as I met him 
on the stairs, where he was, up and down, all day. 
As it is, I have sent an order to the Seven Dials, to 
have an " early delivery" of all the " dying speeches'* 



for the next ten years. I did this in order that I 
may know when he is hanged — a fact I wish par- 
ticularly to ascertain, because hia father and I had 
an altercation about it. 

Experience, however, gives lights ; and a " fur* 
nished lodging" is the best arrangement among the 
bad. I had seven transitions last month, but that 
was owing to accidents ; a man who chooses well, 
may commonly stay a fortnight in a place. Indeed, 
as I said in the beginning, I have been ten days 
where I am ; and I don't, up to this moment, see 
clearly what point I shall go away upon. The mis- 
tress of the house entertains a pet monkey ; and I 
have got a new footman, who, I understand, plays 
upon the fiddle. The matter, I suspect, will lie be- 
tween these two. 

I am most nervous myself about the monkey. 
He broke loose the other day. I saw him escape 
over the next garden-wall, and drop down by the 
side of a middle-aged gentleman, who was setting 
polyanthuses! The respectable man, as was pru- 
dent, took refuge in a summer-house ; and then he 
pulled up all the polyanthuses ; and then tried to 
get in at the summer-house window! I think 
that — 

Eh I— Why, what the deuce is all this?— Why, 
the room is full of smoke! — Thomas! — [I ring the 
bell violently. '\ — Thomas ! — [/ call my new footman.'] 
Tho-o-mas ! — Why, somebody has set the house on 
fire. 

Enter Thomas. 

Indeed no, your honor — indeed — no— it — it's 
only the chimney. 

The chimney ! you dog ! — ^get away this moment 
and put it out. — Stay! — Thomas! — Come back, I 
say. — What chimney is it ? 

Thomas. Onlv the kitchen cbimnev, sir. 

Only the kitchen chimney ! how did you do it ? 

Thomas. I was only tuning my fiddle, your hon- 
or ; and Mary, the housemaid, flung the resin in the 
fire. 

Where's the landlord, sirrah ? 

Thomas. He is not at home, sir. 

Where's his wife ? 

Thomas. She's in fits, sir. 

You'll be hanged, to a certainty !— tbere*B a stat- 
ute for you, caitiff! there is — Come, sir— come — 
strip, and go up the chimney directly. Strip, or 
I'll kill you with the toasting-fork, and bury your 
body in the dust-hole. 

{Enter the cat^ voith a tail at thick a* my arm, gal- 
loping round the room.^ 

Zounds and death, what's to be done ? My life's 
not insured! — I must get out of the house. [Hat- 
tling of wheelsy and cries of " Hre*^ in the ttreet.] 
Here comes the parish engine, and as many thieves 
with it as might serve six parishes ! — Shut the doors 
below, I say. [Calling down staira.] Don't let 'em 
in. — Thomas ! — The house will be gutted from top 
to bottom! — ^Thomas! — ^Thomas! — Where is that 
rascally servant of mine? — Thomas! [Calling in 
all directions.^ I — I must see, myself. 

[Scene changes to the kitchen* The housemaid in 
hysterics under the dresser.^ 

Pooh ! what a smell of sulphur ! Thomas ! — ^I re- 
member, it was on a Friday I hired him ! — ^Thomas! 
— take a wet blanket, you rascal, and get through 
the garret window. Crawl up the tiles, and muffie 
the chimney-pot ! 

Thomas. [/>oim the ehimney.l Sir! 

One more peep [/ run up stairs^ from the win- 



PORTBT, PUNNJKO, Aim PIBTT. 



701 



do*. Haril, how tbcj knock witboQt t— R>t-Ut- 
Ul-lat ! Aa I liie, here are > doien engines, Bft; 
firemen, uid four thouund foots t — I must be otTt 
— ThoniM! — JHientiri.] — 1 must escape. — Thomas, 
ihaw me the back doorl 

Taouia. There is none, air. — Fre beea trying to 
get out injsetf. 

No back doorf 

[Siit£rduaioli,mthtJuiiuMltytmkerbaek. 7b 
tnoelciiig toniamtd.] 

Cook. Oh lav, ^r1 We shall all be destructed, 
Kr! — Oh dear, where is your honor's doubU'bar- 
railed gunf 

M; gun ! up sturs. What d'je want with the 
goat 

Cook. Oh, sirl if it was to be shot off ap the 
chimnej, il would surelf put it out. 

She's right. Run, Thomas I At the head of the 
bed. Awaj with jou. Mind — it's loaded — take 
care wliat jou are abouL 

There they go ! — Thcj' have found it. — Now they 
are down stairs.— ^Why, the woman has got the 
fun I — Take it from her I — He don't hear me. — 
Thomas! — She's going to fire it, as I live ! — Yes I 
she's rilling down in Ihe grate!— Thomas !— With 
her body half way up the chimney 1 — Bang ! bang I 
[Jttport luanL] Ah! there she goes backwards 1 — 



ai black as a soot-bag ! — Why, atop her, I say t — 
Ah! she gets into the street. Thomas! — Margery! 
—Everybody I The woman will be burned to death! 
[Shouti uilhout, and rtoue of MfUer.'] Ha! [/nm 
to Iht ■Rndi>ig.] Uuxia I — The engines are playing 
uponherl!! Oh, that footman! he is my late — 
and 1 thought it would be the monkey I 

£nter ThokaB. 
Come In, you villain. Is the woman burnt f 
TuoMxB. No, sir, she's only frightened. 
Only frightened I you unfeeling creature — but see 
the monkey — stop him — he's gone off with my gi^ 

Reader, if yon have compassion, hear a man of 
Bve-ond-forty s prayer I I can't stay here I — where 
am 1 to go lof'-If yon should think^Thomas I — I 
must gel into a hackney coach! — If you should 
think— Call me a hackney-coach, sirrah — and adt 
the man what be charges for it (d'ye hear) by the 
week. — If you should think that diere is any chance 
of my doing well in Edinburgh or Dublin — I shouldn't 
like to be above the fifth story (I underjtsnd most 
of your bouses run ten), a lino to say so would 
greatly oblige me. As I have no home, at present, 
except Ihe hackney-coach that I have sent for, I 
can't say exactly in what pUce oraulI<:ring your let* 




It's all np ! — Here comet the soot in cart-loads, all 
O'er her! — She's killed! — No,egadt she's up and 
ranning. — Don't let her come near me, — Margery 1 
IVhat's her name 1 — She's running towards the 
Hreet door! — Ma^ery ! — Why, she's all on fire, and 



ter will Sod me ; hut, by addressing to the coffee- 
house, in Rathbone Place, it will somewhere or 
other come to the hands of 

Your very horable servant, 

WRISKLlrtOK FiDon, 



„ .™ i.*<^Xt'.n°» Snty.*an.1 bum. rbaiild 
Bcilit tba beart-uppal of Wliluw Huvd. 



PoETST, Pinotisn, iBD Pim, — When the Hon. 
Xr*. Norton was applied to, on Hood's death, for a 
(onlrihution to the fund then raised for his destitute 
*idow, and headed by Sr Robert Feel with the mu- 
aiGcent donation of £50, she promptly sent a liberal 

Hbacription with the following lines, (never before Poetry, punning, and piety, all of the genuine Mri, 
._>.•,.. J.J ^^ ^^^ ottea thus happily united. 



702 



THE VALUE OF A WOKD. MIRTH. 



THE VALUE OF A WORD. 



FROM **THI LIFE AMD TIMES OF FREDERIC BETNOLDS.** BT HIlfSXLF. 



Wanting to walk on the pier (at Calais), I asked 
the garcon^ who spoke English very tolerably, the 
French for it. He, thinking B.»Milord AnglaU I could 
mean nothing but peer^ a lord, replied paire. Away 
I then went, and passing over the market-place, and 
drawbridge, stumbled on the pier, without having 
had occasion to inquire my way to it by the garcorCs 
novel appellation. There I remained, strutting 
my half'hour, till dinner-time. 

At the table iThote^ the Commandant of the troops 
of the town sat next me ; and among other officers 
and gentlemen at the table, were the President 
of the Council at Katisbon, a Russian count, and 
several Prussians — in all amounting to about twenty, 
not one of whom, as it appeared to me, spoke a 
word of English. 

I thought I could never please a Frenchman so 
much as by praising hie town : — ' Mom^ieur,^ I said, 
condescendingly, to the Commandant, * J'ai vu 
votre paire,' meaning, * I have seen your pier ;' but 
which he naturally understood, * I have seen your 
pire^ father.* This address from a perfect stranger 
surprised him. * II est beau et grand, monsieur,' I 
continued. The Commandant examined me from 
head to foot with on astonishment that imparted 
to me an almost equal share. I saw there was a 
mistake, and I attempted to explain, by pronounc- 
ing very articulately, 

* Oui, monsieur, j'ai vu votre paire — votre paire^ 
sur le havre.' 

*Eh bien, monsieur,' replied the Commandant, 
* et que vous a-t-il dit V (What did he say to you ?) 

I was astounded, and looking round the room for 
the keeper to the supposed madman, I discovered 
that the eyes of the whole of the company were 
upon me. 

* Monsieur,' I cried, again attempting to explain, 
with as much deliberation and precision, and in as 
good French as 1 could command — * Monsieur, est- 
il possible que vous rcsidez ici, et que vous ne con- 
noissez pas votre paire — votre paire — si long !' 



This speech only increased the iDcomprebensi- 
bility of the whole conversation; and the Com- 
mandant beginning, in rather havt en bos terms, to 
demand an explanation, like all cowards, when 
driven into a corner, I became desperate. 

* Monsieur,' I cried, somewhat boisterously, *il 
faut que vous connoissez voirepaire ! le paire de 
votre ville, qui est fait de pierrc, et a la t6te de bois, 
et a ce moment on travaille a lui racommoder sa 
fin, a laquelle le vent a fait du mal.' 

This was the coup de grace to all the decorum ; 
every Frenchman abandoned himself to his laugh- 
ter, till the room fairly shook with their shouts 
and even the Commandant himself could not help 
joining them. 

* Allow me, sir,' said a gentleman whom I had 
not previously observed — 

*My dear sir,' interrupted I, *you are an English- 
man, pray, pray explain.' 

'Sir,' he replied, ' you have just told this gentle- 
man,' pointing to tlie Commandant, * that hi9 father 
is the father of the whole totni^ that he is wade of 
stone^ but has a wooden head! and at this mo- 
ment the workmen are engaged in mending his 
end, that the wind has damaged.' 

I was paralyzed. * Tell me,' I cried, as if my 
life depended on an answer, ' what is the French 
for pier V 

^Jetee* he replied, or according to the common 
people, pont f 

I had scarcely sense enough left to assist the 
Englishman in his good-natured attempts to un- 
ravel the error. He succeeded, however, and then 
commenced in French an explanation to the officers. 
At this moment the waiter informed me that the 
St. Omer diligence was about to depart. I rushed 
from the scene of my disgrace, and stepped into the 
vehicle, just as the termination of the Englishman's 
recital exploded an additional iclat de rirt at my 
expense. 



-•♦♦- 



MIRTH. 



FROM ** GUESSES AT TRUTH." BT JULIUS AND AUGUSTUS HARE. 



Ridentem dicere verum quid vetat .^* In the first 
place, all the sour faces in the world, stiffening into 
a yet more rigid asperity at the least glimpse of a 
smile. I have seen faces, too, which, so long as you 
let them lie in their sleepy torpor, unshaken and 
unstirred, have a creamy softness and smoothness, 
and might beguile you into suspecting their owners 
of being gentle ; but, if they catch the sound of a 
laugh, it acts on them like thunder, and they also 
turn sour. Nay, strange as it may seem, there have 
been such incarnate paradoxes as would rather sec 
their fellow-creatures crv than smile. 

But is not this in exact accordance with the spirit 

* What forbidfl one to say what i5 true in a laughing man- 
ner? 



which pronounces a blessing on the weeper, and a 
woe on the laugher ? 

Not in the persons I have in view. That blessiDg 
and woe are pronounced in the knowledge how apt 
the course of this world is to run counter to the king- 
dom of God. They who weep are declared to be 
blessed, not because they weep, but because they 
shall laugh ; and the woe threatened to the laughers 
is in like manner, that they shall mourn and veep. 
Therefore, they who have this spirit in them, will 
endeavor to forward the blessing and to avert the 
woe. They will try to comfort the mourner, so as 
to lead him to rejoice ; and they will warn the 
laugher, that he may be preserved from the mourn- 
ing and weeping, and may exchange his passing for 
lasting joy. But there are many who merely in* 



UIRTII. 



708 



dulge in the antipathy, vithout opening their hearts 
to the sympathy. Such is the spirit found in those 
who have cast off the bonds of the lower earthly 
affections, without having risen as yet into the free- 
dom of heavenly love — ^in those who have stopped 
short in the state of transition between the two 
lives, like so many skeletons stripped of their earth- 
ly, and not yet clothed with a heavenly body. It 
is the spirit of Stoicism, for instance, in philosophy, 
and of vulgar Calvinism, which in so many things 
answers to Stoicism in religion. They who feel the 
harm they have received from worldly pleasures, 
are prone at first to quarrel with pleasure of every 
kind altogether ; and it is one of the strange per- 
versities of our self-will to entertain anger, instead 
of pity, towards those whom we fancy to judge or 
act less wisely than ourselves. This, however, is 
only while the scaffolding is still standing around 
the edifice of their Christian life, so that they can- 
not see clearly out of the windows, and their view 
is broken up into disjointed parts. When the scaf- 
folding is removed, and they look abroad without 
hindrance, they are readier than any to delight in 
all the beauty and true pleasure around them. They 
feel that it is their blessed calling not only to re- 
joice alwaf/s themselves, but likewise to rejoice with 
(Ul who do rejoice in innocence of heart. They feel 
that this must be well-pleasing to Ilim who has filled 
His universe with ever-bubbling springs of gladness ; 
so that whithersoever we turn our eyes, through 
earth and sky as well as sea, we behold the 
iuHnHOfAOif yiKafffka* of nature. On the other hand, 
it is the harshness of an irreligious temper clothing 
itself in religious zeal, and not seldom exhibiting 
symptoms of mental disorganization, that looks 
scowlingly on every indication of happiness and 
mirth. 

Moreover, there is a large class of people who 
deem the business of life far too weighty and mo- 
mentous to be made light of; who would leave 
merriment to children, and laughter to idiots ; and 
who hold that a joke would be as much out of place 
on their lips as on a grave-stone or in a ledger. Wit 
and wisdom being sisters, not only are they afraid 
of being indicted for bigamy were they to wed them 
both, but they shudder at such a union as incestu- 
ous. So, to keep clear of temptation, and to pre- 
serve their faith where they have plighted it, they 
turn the younger out of doors ; and if they see or 
hear of any body taking her in, they are positive he 
can know nothing of the elder. They would not be 
witty for the world. Now, to escape being so, is 
not very difficult for those whom nature has so fa- 
vored that wit with them is always at zero, or below 
it. Or, as to their wisdom, since they are careful 
never to overfeed her, she jogs leisurely along the 
turnpike-road, with lank and meagre carcass, dis- 
playing all her bones, and never getting out of her 
own dust. She feels no inclination to be frisky, 
but, if a coach or wagon passes her, is glad, like her 
rider, to run behind a thing so big. Kow, all these 
people take grievous offence if any one comes near 
them better mounted, and they are in a tremor lest 
the neighing and snorting and prancing should be 
contagious. 

Surely, howerer, ridicule implies contempt ; and 
so the feeUng must be condemnable, subversive of 
gentleness, incompatible with kindness ? 

Not necessarily so, or universally ; far from it. 

* Boondleas laughter. 



The word ridicule^ it is true, has a narrow, one- 
sided meaning. From our pronencss to mix up 
personal feelings with those which are more purely 
objective and intellectual, we have in great measure 
restricted the meaning of ridicide^ which would 
properly extend over the whole region of the rt- 
diculouSy the laughable, where we may disport our- 
selves innocently, without any evil emotion ; and 
we have narrowed it, so that in common usage it 
mostly corresponds to derision^ which does indeed 
involve personal and offensive feelings. As the 
great business of wisdom in her speculative office is 
to detect and reveal the hidden harmonies of things, 
those harmonies which arc the sources and the 
ever-fiowing emanations of Law, the dealings of 
Wit, on the other hand, are with incongruities. 
And it is the perception of incongruity, flashing 
upon us, when unaccompanied, as Aristotle observes 
{Poet. c. v.), by pain, or by any predominant moral 
disgust, that provokes laughter, and excites the 
feeling of the ridiculous. But it no more follows 
that the perception of such an incongruity must 
breed or foster haughtiness or disdain, than that 
the perception of any thing else that may be erro- 
neous or wrong should do so. You might as well 
argue that a man must be proud and scornful be* 
cause he sees that there is such a thing as sin, or 
such a thing as folly, in the world. Yet, unless we 
blind our eyes, and gag our ears, and hoodwink our 
uiinds, we shall seldom pass through a day without 
having some form of evil brought in one way or 
other before us. Besides, the perception of incon- 
gruity may exist, and may awaken laughter, with- 
out the slightest reprobation of the object laughed 
at. We laugh at a pun, surely without a shade of 
contempt either for the words punned upon or for 
the punster ; and if a very bad pun be the next 
best thing to a very good one, this is not from its 
flattering any feeling of superiority in us, but be- 
cause the incongruity is broader and more glaring. 
Nor, when we laugh at a droll combination of 
imagery, do we feel any contempt, but often admi- 
ration at the ingenuity shown in it, and an almost 
affectionate thankfulness toward the person by 
whom we have been amused, such as is rarely ex- 
cited by any other display of intellectual power, as 
those who have ever enjoyed the delight of Profes- 
sor Sedgwick's society will bear witness. 

It is true, an exclusive attention to the ridiculous 
side of things is hurtful to the character, and de- 
structive of earnestness and gravity. But no less 
mischievous is it to fix our attention exclusively, 
or even mainly, on the vices and other follies of 
mankind. Such contemplations, unless counter- 
acted by wholesomer thoughts, harden or rot the 
heart, deaden the moral principle, and make us 
hopeless and reckless. The objects toward which 
we should turn our minds habitually are those which 
are great, and good, and pure ; the throne of vir- 
tue, and she who sits upon it ; the majesty of truth, 
the beauty of holiness. This is the spiritual sky 
through which we should strive to mount, '* spring- 
ing from crystal step to crystal step," and bathing 
our souls in its living, life-giving ether. These are 
the thoughts by which we should whet and polish 
our swords for the warfare against evil, that the 
vapors of the earth may not rust them. But in a 
warfare against evil, under one or other of its forms, 
we are all of us called to engage ; and it is a childish 
dream to fancy that we can walk about among man- 
khid without perpetual necessity of remarking that 



704 



mibth. 



the vorld is full of many worse incongruities be- 
sides those which make us laugh. 

Nor do I deny that a laugher may often be a 
scoffer and a scomer. Some jesters are fools of a 
worse breed than those who used to wear the cap. 
Sneering is commonly found along with a bitter 
splenetic misanthropy ; or it may be a man^s mock- 
ery at his own hollow heart, venting itself in mockery 
at others. Cruelty will try to season or to palliate 
its atrocities by derinion. The hyena grins in its 
den ; most wild beasts over their prey. But though 
a certain kind of wit, like other intellectual gifts, 
may coexist with moral depravity, there has often 
been a playfulness in the best and greatent men — 
in Phocion, in Socrates, in Luther, in Sir Thomas 
More — which, as it were, adds a bloom to the 
severer graces of their character, shining forth with 
amaranthine brightness when storms assail them, 
and springing np in fresh blossoms under the axe 
of the executioner. How much is our affection for 
Hector increased by his tossing his boy in his arms, 
and laughing at his childish fears I Smiles are the 
language of love ; they betoken the complacency 
and delight of the heart in the object of its contem- 
plation. Why are we to assume that there must 
needs be bitterness or contempt in them, when 
they enforce a truth or reprove an error? On the 
contrary, some of those who have been richest in 
wit and humor have been among the simplest and 
kindest-hearted of men. I will only instance Fuller, 
Bishop Earle, Lafontaine, Matthes Claudius, Charles 
Lamb. **Le m6chant n^est jamais comique," is 
wisely remarked by De Maistre, when canvassing 
the pretensions of Voltaire {Soirees^ i. 273); and 
the converse is equally true: Z« comique^ h vrai 
eomique, n'est jamais mechant. A laugh, to be joy- 
ous, must flow from a joyous heart ; but without 
kindness there can be no true joy. And what a 
dull, plodding, tramping, clanking would the ordi- 
nary intercourse of society be, without wit to enliven 
and brighten it! When two men meet, they seem 
to be kept at bay through the estranging effects of 
absence, until some sportive sally opens their hearts 
to each other. Nor does any thing spread cheer- 
fulness so rapidly over a whole party, or an assem- 
bly of people, however large. Reason expands the 
soul of the philosopher; imagination glorifies the 
poet, and breathes a breath of spring through the 
young and genial ; but if we take into account the 
numberless glances and gleams whereby wit lightens 
our every-day life, I hardly know what power min- 
isters so bountifully to the innocent pleasures of 
mankind. 

Surely, too, it cannot be requisite, to a man^s be- 
ing in earnest, that he should wear a perpetual 
frown. Or is there less of sinceritv in Nature dur- 
ing her gambols in spring, than during the stiffness 
and harshness of her wintry gloom ? Does not the 
bird^s blithe carolling come from the heart quite as 
much as the quadruped^s monotonous cry ? And is 
it then altogether impossible to take up one's abode 
with Truth, and to let all sweet homely feelings 
grow about it and cluster around it, and to smile 
upon it as on a kind father or mother, and to sport 
with it, and hold light and merry talk with it, as 
with a loved brother or sister ; and to fondle it, and 
(play with it, as with a child? No otherwise did 
Socrates and Plato commune with Truth ; no other- 
wise Cervantes and Shakspere. This playfulness of 
Truth is beautifully represented by Landor, in the 
conversation between Marcus Cicero and his brother, 



in an allegory which has the voice and the spirit of 
Plato. On the other hand, the outcries of thorn 
who exclaim against every sound more lively than 
a bray or a bleat, as derogatory to truth, are often 
prompted, not so much by their deep feeling of the 
dignity of the truth in question, as of the dignity of 
the person by whom that truth is maintained. It 
is our vanity, our self-conceit, that makes us so sore 
and irritable. To a grave argument we may reply 
gravely, and fancy that we have the best of it ; but 
he who is too dull or too angry to smile, cannot an- 
swer a Rmlle, except by fretting and fuming. Olivia 
lets us into the secret of Malvolio's distaste for the 
Clown. 

For the full expansion of the intellect, moreover, 
to preserve it from that narrowness and partial 
warp which our proneness to give ourselves up to 
the sway of the moment is apt to produce, its vari- 
ous faculties, however opposite, should grow and 
be trained up side by side — should twine their arms 
together, and strengthen each other by love-wres- 
tles, llius will it be best fitted for discerning and 
acting upon the multiplicity of things which the 
world sets before it. Thus, too, will something like 
a balance and order be upheld, and our minds pre- 
served from that exaggeration on the one side, and 
depreciation on the other side, which are the sure 
results of exclusiveness. A poet, for instance, 
should have much of the philosopher in him; not, 
indeed, thrusting itself forward at the surface — 
this would only make a monster of his work, like 
the Siamese twins, neither one thing nor twcH-but 
latent within ; the spindle should be out of sight, 
but the web should be spun by the Fates. A phi- 
losopher, on the other hand, ^ould have much of 
the poet in him. A historian cannot be great with- 
out combining the elements of the two minds. A 
statesman ought to unite those of all the three. A 
great religious teacher, such as Socrates, Bernard, 
Luther, Schleiermacher, needs the statesman's prac- 
tical power of dealing with men and things, as well 
as the historian's insight into their growth and pur- 
pose. He needs the philosopher's ideas, impreg- 
nated and impersonated by the imagination of the 
poet. In like manner, our graver faculties and 
thoughts are much chastened and bettered by a 
blending and interfusion of the lighter, so that 
*^ the sable cloud" may ** turn her silver lining on 
the night ;" while our lighter thoughts require the 
graver to substantiate them and keep them from 
evaporating. Thus Socrates is said, in Plato's 
Banquet^ to have maintained that a great tragic 
poet ought likewise to be a great comic poet — an 
observation the more remarkable, because the ten- 
dency of the Greek mind, as at once manifested in 
their Polytheism, and fostered by it, was to insulate 
all their ideas ; and, as it were, to split up the in- 
tellectual world into a cluster of Cyclades, leading 
to confusion, is the characteristic of modem timea. 
The combination, however, was realized in himself, 
and in his great pupil ; and may, perhaps, have 
been so to a certain extent in jf^schylus, if we may 
judge from the fame of his satiric dramas. At all 
events the assertion, as has been remarked more 
than once — for instance by Coleridge (i^^oiiu, ii., 
12,) — is a wonderful prophetical intuition, which 
has received its fulfilment in Shakspere. No heart 
would have been strong enough to hold the woe of 
Lear and Othello, except that which had the un- 
quenchable elasticity of FalstafT and the " Midsunn 
mer Night's dream." He, too, is an example that 



MY HONORABLE FRIKND BOB. 



705 



the perception of the ridiculoos does not necessarily 
imply bitterness and scorn. Along with bis intense 
htunor, and his equally intense piercing insight into 
the darkest, most fearful depths of human nature, 
there is still a spirit of universal kindness, as well 
as uniTersal justice, pervading his works ; and Ben 
Jonson has left us a precious memorial of him, 
where he calls him **' My penile Shakspeare." This 
one epithet sheds a beautiful light on his character : 



its truth is attested by his wisdom, which could 
never have been so perfect unless it had been har- 
monized by the gentleness of the dove. A similar 
union of the graver and lighter powers is found in 
several of Shakspeare^s contemporaries, and in 
many others among the greatest poets of the 
modern world ; in Boccaccio, in Cervantes, in 
Chaucer, in Gotho, in Tieck ; so was it in Walter 
Scott. 



»»♦ 



MY HONORABLE FRIEND BOB. 



FBOM 



"DAVID DUMPS.*' 



BT THOMAS HATNIS BATLT. 



It was at a public school that I first became ac- 
qoainted with my friend Bob. He was then a little 
round-faced, curly-pated boy, about ten years of 
age ; and I being two years his senior, and there 
existing some intimacy between our parents, he was 
pot under my protection. 

I soon, fool that I was, became very fond of Bob. 
We naturally get attached to those who cling to us 
for support ; and every thing was so new to him, 
poor fellow ! that without me he was miserable. 

At that very early age. Bob had acquired a taste 
for extravagance ; his money always burnt a hole 
in his Uttle breeches' pocket ; and when it was gone, 
many a shilling did he borrow of me, and many 
more did he owe to Mrs. Puffy, the &t vender of 
pastry, whose residence was " down the street." 

At sixteen, I left Doctor Rearpepper's establish- 
ment ; and many were the tears that poor Bob shed 
at my departure. He said nothing at all about the 
nine ihillinga and fourpence halfpenny that he owed 
me ; but when I said, " Bob, be sure you write to 
me," I sospect that be almost expected me to add, 
** and don't forget to enclose the money." 

During my residence at Oxford, we never met. 
At first our interchange of letters was frequent, and 
the atylb of our communications most affectionate ; 
but gradually our correspondence flagged, and for 
a whole year I heard nothing of him. At length, 
by the coach came a splendidly bound copy of a 
work which he knew to be my Ikvorite ; and ui the 
title-page was written my name, and OBdemeath the 
words, "From his affectionate and grateful friend 
Bob." 

" Tes," thought I, as I read the inscription, " and 
0tUl thou art my honorable friend I " 

Bob, after so long a period bad elapsed, was nat- 
urally ashamed to send me the few shillings that he 
owed me ; but he oould not be happy till he had 
•pent many pounds on a gift which was intended 
to repay me. With the parcel, I received a letter 
announcing his having entered the army, and add- 
ing that he was about to join his regiment, which 
was then on a foreign station. He entreated me 
not to suppose from his long silence that he had 
forgotten me ; and, in short, there was so much 
warmth of heart about the whole letter, that Bob 
was reinstated in my good graces, and I wrote him 
a most afiectionate reply, assuring him that when- 
ever we met he would find me unaltered. 

After quitting Oxford, I travelled on the Conti- 
nent for many months ; and on my return to Eng- 
land, I found my friend Bob at a hotel in Bond 
street, and, in every sense of the words, " a gay 
man about town." 

Ours was more like the reunion of boys after a 



summer's vacation, than a meeting of men who had 
seen something of the world. We could talk only 
of the past, of frolic and of fun ; and while arm-in- 
arm we ranged the streets of the west end, we 
laughed almost as much, and were really nearly as 
thoughtless, as in the days when together we ranged 
the play-ground of old Rearpepper. 

Whatever / may have been, Bob was indeed un- 
changed ; and not alone in spirits and temper, for 
I soon found that his old habits had grown with his 
growth, and strengthened with his strength. He 
still retained his " sweet tooth," and daily did he 
lead me into Guntcr's or Grange's, (nay, often into 
both in turn,) and there I saw him indulge as he 
used of old in the habitation of Mrs. Puffy ; — the 
only difference was, that his dainties were somewhat 
more refined, and more expensive; for, alas! I 
soon saw the old injunction, " Put it down to my 
bill," had by no means fallen into disuse. All other 
tradespeople were most impartially detUt with by 
Bob in the same way ; and I saw him take posses- 
sion of trinkets, coats, hats, and boots, without 
considering it requisite to take his purse out of his 
pocket. 

The next morning, Bob ran to my bedside to in- 
form me that he was ordered to India, and must 
leave London in a day or two. He showed me his 
letters, and it was evident that he must prepare for 
his immediate departure. 

We breakfasted together ; and during the repast, 
the waiter was continually presenting him with wa- 
fered notes ; and it appeared that several persons 
had called, very earnestly wishing to see him. I 
had my suspicions about these visitations, but said 
nothing. 

Immediately after breakfast, Bob took my arm 
and requested nic to walk with him ; and after pass- 
ing through several streets and squares in unusual 
silence, and with an appearance of agitation in his 
manner, he suddenly addressed me. 

" There is no alternative," said he ; " I must go." 

"You must, indeed. Bob," I replied, — "unless 
you are detained." 

"Detained!" said Bob, blushing ; "how do you 
mean?" 

" Pardon me," I answered, " but really few young 
men could go on as you have lately done, and be 
prepared for a departure so sudden. Now, my dear 
Bob, you know what my finances arc ; you know I 
have literally nothing to spare; but if, knowing 
this, you think I can be of temporary use to you, 
command me." 

Bob grasped my arm, and his eyes watered ; but 
he was ashamed to own the extent of his encum- 
brances, and therefore hastily answered, 



HY HONORABLE FRIEND BOB. 



n>me to > bill." 

" Not of large amount, Bob. I trngt f 

" Ko — )■*« — IsfBoi"! I fear, than " 

"If it be a Urge Bum, Bob, jou know that if 
TOur draft is not honored nhcn il becomes dae, / 
aball go IP priion Instead of you." 

"Mever!" said Bob with a fervor and an evidence 
of deep feeling wbieh t could not distrust. 

" WeU, then, what is the aum 1" said I. 

" First, let mo telE you some circumstnncea which 
press heavllj on mj heart," said Bob ; " not here 
^-come with me this waj." 

And in solemn silenco he led me lo Portman 
Square. 

" What can all this mean •" said I, at Inst. 

"Hush I" said Bob ; "you sec that house f" 

And he pointed to a very handsome well-appoint- 
ed mannion. A footman was slanding at the door 
receiving cards from a ladj in a carriage. i 



"Uy dear fenow," I exclaimed, "thia Is news In- 
deed! — JOU have no occasion of asristance from a 
poor fellow like mi." 

"Oh!" said Boh, "jou have nn( heard all. She 
loves me to madness, poor dear girl I But, rich as 
her father is, were ke to suppose that I am involved, 
be would forbid the match. 

"A very sensible old mao." 

"That maybe; but there is another obstacle — 
my rank : Clara will not consent to marry any tttiiig 
below a captain." 

I coiiid not repress a Ungh. 

"It If a foible, perhaps," said Bob. rather piqued; 
" but it is her only one, and I must humor it. But 
my promotion depends on my going to India, 

"Well, wen," said I, "1 understand all this; bat 
tell me at once what yon wish roe to do for you." 

" To put your name to a dmft for one hundred 
and ninety pounds," faltered Bob. 

"Mercy on mcl what a sumt" tiid I. How- 




"See the house?" I replied; "to be sure I do; 
and what then J" 

"That house is owned by one of the weillhtcst 
comtnoners in Engknd." 

"I'mph!" BBJd I; "the owner, I suppose, it 



•• ilo hi 
" Has hi 



only daughter," said Bob. 
'added Bob. 



' lai 



" His sole b 

" What then ' 

" I am ashamed of having concealed all this s 
long from so dear a friend," murmured Bob. 

"All whatr 

" But the secret Tas not my own." 

"What secret?" 

"That lovely girl!" 

" L'pon my word, Boh," I cried, "jouput me on 
of all patience r 

"1 have won that girl's affections." 

"The heiress r said I. 

"She loves me," whispered Bob, 



it be done : and vhen the draft becomes 



"One m 



said Bob 



lore to look Utile 



" At the casket which contains the gem ?" said I. 

" Yes ; and for your sake, too, 1 love to look M 
it. Too see thope three windows shaded with siy- 
blue silk curtains 1 Oh, xuh a little room thai is ! — 
and that room I always mean to be your own trelit- 
livilg, when / am master of the mansion. Such a 
room? — the furniture so exquisite! — and such a 
tweet look out over the iqnarel— But come, we'll 
talk all that over while we arc at dinner." 

Before the meal was half finished, Bob seemed 
quite to have recovered hie spirits ; and I could not 
help suspecting, that as the prospect of an immedi- 
ate separation did not seem to depress him, be 
loved the lady less than he loved her gold. 



irr HONORABLE FRIEND BOB. 



707 



** la she pretty?** said I after a long pause, dur- 
ing which 1 at least had been thinking of her. 

•* WhoT said Bob, starting. 

•* I say, is the lady pretty ?" 

" What lady ?" said Bob. 

•* Why, your love, to be sure." 

** Which do you mean ?" 

"Nonsense, Bob! — I mean the girl you are at- 
tached to ; — ^why, man, she who lives in Portman 
Square." 

"O ! what mu I dreaming of! — very pretty." 

" I can*t imagine, Bob," said I, " when you con- 
trived to win your divinity : you and I have been 
for months almost inseparable, and — " 

** Ask no questions," said Bob ; ^' the secret is 
not my own." 

" Not entirely, certainly," I replied. " Is she to 
inherit the house in Portman Square ?" 

" To be sure she is : and such a house as it is ! — 
and that room which I mean for you ! You arc 
fond of a hot bath?" 

"Very." 

" There is a sky-blue silk sofa in that room ; and 
when you touch a spring, it flies up, (I don^t ex- 
actly know the principle on which it acts,) and turns 
into the most delightful bath !" 

"Indeed!" 

" Yes, a marble bath." 

"Marble?" 

" White marble without a speck ; — she did tell 
me where it came from, — but that's no conse- 
quence." 

" How very luxurious I" said I. 

" Yes ; and so very complete ! — three cocks !" 

" Three T said I : " two, you mean." 

"No, no, — three," replied Bob: "one for hot 
water—" 

"Yes," said I. 

" And one for cold — ^ 

" Well, that makes two,^ said I. 

" And one," said Bob, " for eau-de-Cologne.^ 

In the evening, I put my name to Bob^s drafl, 
and the next morning we parted with mutual ex- 
pressions of regret. 

I missed him sadly ; and it so happened, that af- 
ter he went, many untoward circumstances occurred 
which, having first materially lowered my resources, 
next effectually lowered my spirits, and I used to 
saunter through our old haunts, looking like the 
ghost of his companion. 

When he was gone, I became acquainted with 
many circumstances connected with his expenditure 
which perfectly astounded me ; and at the end of 
four months, ^xactly two months before it was to 
become due,) 1 had every reason to doubt whether 
the draft for one hundred and ninety pounds would 
ever be paid. 

I was conscious of my own utter inability to pay 
it ; and I therefore existed for a week or two in a 
state of mental excitement not to be described. 
One day after breakfast, I sallied forth more dolor- 
ous than usual ; and after wandering about for some 
time, I found myself in Portman Square, opposite 
the identical mansion inhabited by Bob*s intended. 

" Ah !" thoueht I, " were Bob now in possession 
of that house, i£ would go well with us : — his heart 
is in the right place, poor fellow ! But, alas ! be- 
fore he puts me in possession oC that sky-blue 
apartment, with the hot water and the cold and the 
eamrde-CoUMne^ I may be in prison, and my name 
disgraced!^ 



As I looked towards the balcony of the drawing- 
room, I saw a female watering some geraniums; 
and, suddenly turning her head towards me, she 
seemed to recognize my person, and gave me a fa- 
miliar nod. 

I soon discovered it was my old friend and near 
connection Mrs. Symmons ; and, beckoning me to 
the window, she exclaimed, 

" Oh ! Fm delighted to see you ! — we only came 
to town yesterday, — we are on a visit to Mr. Moles- 
worth : pray come in, and I'll introduce you." 

I knocked at the hall-door in a state of mind not 
to be described, — the hall-door of the house in 
which 1 {by anticipation) already possessed a room 
of my own, with sky-blue curtains, and a new-in- 
vented spring sofa bath overflowing with eau-de- 
Cologne ! I walked up stairs ; and roy friend Mrs. 
Symmons introduced me to Mr. Molesworth, (an old 
gentleman in a pair of gouty shoes,) his daughter, 
Miss Molesworth, (a lovely, fair-haired girl of about 
eighteen,) her sister Flora, (still in a pinafore, and 
not come out,) and her two little brothers (school- 
boys in round jackets and duck trousers). 

"Dear me!" thought I, "how poor dear Bob was 
mistaken in supposing her an heiress !" 

In this family I spent many happy days ; and be- 
ing, though unknown to her, so well acquainted 
with the secret of the yoimg lady^s heart, I became 
more intimate with her than I could have been with 
any one else, without incurring the imputation of 
"serious intentions." In this instance, however, 
my knowledge of the fair lady^s engagement to 
another person, (and that person my friend,) made 
me feel perfectly at my ease ; and we became the 
talk of all our acquaintances, without my being the 
least aware that we were engaged even in a little 
flirtation. 

To my utter astonishment, Mrs. Symmons came 
to me one day, (it was the day before that on which 
Bob's draft was to become due,) and, with a know- 
ing look, asked me why I was so out of spirits? I 
gave an evasive reply, for I did not choose to own 
the paltry pecuniary difficulty, which was threaten- 
ing to overpower me. 

"Nonsense!" said Mrs. Symmons; "go boldly, 
and make your offer : your connections are unex- 
ceptionable; and whatever your presenf income 
may be, your prospects are excellent. Besides, she 
has enough for both ; for, though not an only child, 
her father can afford to give her a very excellent 
fortune." 

" And pray," I replied, " of what lady are you 
talking ?" 

" Miss Molesworth, to be sure ; — I know she is at- 
tached to you." 

" You know nothing about the matter," said I ; 
" for I can toll you that " 

I hesitated, for I had no right to betray Bob's se- 
cret. 

"Well," said Mrs. Symmons, "here she comes, 
and I will leave you together ;" and away she went. 

"What is the matter?" said Miss Molesworth 
earnestly, as she entered ; " you seem agitated — 
what has happened ?" 

" Are wc alone ?" said I after a pause. " It is 
better that I should be explicit." 

Miss Molesworth started, colored, and cast down 
her eyes. Had I been a favored lover on the point 
of making an avowal of attachment, she could not 
have been more embarrassed. 

" Do not bo alarmed," said I : " I know all !" 



i^.M. 



708 



MT HONORABLE FRIEND BOB. 



«* Sir !*" said Miss Molesworth. 

** I am Bob's best friend, and I know your se- 
cret." 

"J/y secret !" she exclaimed. 

" Yes, dear lady," I answered : '* I am, as I told 
you before, the most intimate friend of Bob." 

"Of Bob!" said she. 

" Yes," I replied, taking her hand ; " I am Bob's 
school-fellow." 

" And pray, sir," said she, withdrawing her hand, 
"who w Bob?" 

" Do not distress yourself," I whispered ; " do not 
think it necessary to conceal any thing from me ; — 
before he left England, Bob told mo all." 

" All what /" cried Miss Molesworth. 

" Your mutual attachment, — your engagement," 
I replied. 

Miss Molesworth started up, coloring crimson. 
At first, she could not articulate, but at last she 
said, 

"J know not, sir, to what I am to attribute this 
conduct : I have been attached to no one^ engaged 
to no one^ — I know not of whom you speak. I had 
considered you, sir, in the light of a friend ; but 
now, sir, now " 

She could say no more, but sank on a chair be- 
side me, in a flood of tears. 

A mist at that moment fell from my eyes ; I saw 
at once the full extent of Bob's unpardonable false- 
hood, and the distressing certainty flashed upon my 
mind that his draft would be dishonored. 

Mrs. Symmons entered at the moment, and found 
us both apparently plunged into the depths of des- 
pair. Miss Molesworth was in an instant weeping 
on her shoulder ; and before a quarter of an hour 
had elapsed, I found myself breathing forth vows 
of love to the young lady, and exulting in my dis- 
covery that her engagement to my friend Bob was 
a fable. 

Miss Molesworth referred me to her father ; but 
I read in her large blue eyes that she did not dislike 
me. I therefore retired to my bed that night full 
of love and hope, and dreamed of driving my wife 
in a chariot drawn by six dragons, over tho man- 
gled body of Bob. 

The next morning, my first thought was of my 
approaching interview with Mr. Molesworth : but, 
alas! it was soon followed by my recollection of 
Bob's draft, and the too great probability that be- 
fore night I should be in durance vile for the amount. 
My own resources were at the moment inadequate 
to meet the demand ; and could I ask a rich man 
to let me marry his daughter, and expect that his 
first act would be to pay one hundred and ninety 
pounds to extricate me from a prison ! 

At length, I made up my mind to walk to Bob's 
bankers, and at once ascertain the worst. I did so, 
and on my arrival was astounded at being informed 
by the clerk that he had provided funds for the 
payment of the draft ! 

So far I had wronged my honorable friend ; and 
I was therefore able to appear in Portman Square 
in excellent spirits. 

" The course of" my " true love" did, for a won- 
der, " run smooth," and, all our preliminaries hav- 
ing been finally arranged, the Molesworths left town 
for the family seat in Wiltshire, and I remained to 
arrange some legal and other matters, which would in 
all probability detain me for a couple of months. I 
was sitting in my own room rather out of spirits the 
morning after my true love's departure, when the 



door opened, and in came — ^Bob I He was so evi- 
dently delighted to see me again, that I could not help 
receiving him kindly. He spoke of the obligation I 
had conferred upon him previous to his departure ; 
and after frankly acknowledging the gratification I 
had felt at his punctuality, I said, 

" But bow is this ? returned after bo short an ab- 
sence !" 

" Oh ! we are not to go to India, after all ; Fve 
been no further than Madeira ; — we'll talk that all 
over another time. I suppose I shall be sent to the 
West, instead of the East." 

" I only regret it on account of your rank ; it 
may retard your marriage." 

"3/y marriage !" said Bob, blushing all over. 

" Yes ; your marriage with the heiress of Port- 
man Square." 

"Oh!" cried Bob, starting from his chair and 
pressing his hand, "never — never, I entreat you, 
mention that subject again." 

"Why so?" said I. 

" It is all off," sighed Bob. 

"Oflfl" I exclaimed. 

" Yes, the traitress ! — But enough, — never name 
her to me again." 

I of course promised to obey him, and for some 
days we enjoyed ourselves very much in the old 
way. One morning, he came to me in real distress, 
and told me that his tailor had threatened to arrest 
him for the amount of his bill. I offered to go and 
speak to the man, and endeavor to persuade him to 
give Bob time. 

" If he will only give me a month," said Bob. 

" Well," I cried, " I can but try him ;" and away 
I went. 

The tailor was inexorable ; but he told me that 
if I would become responsible for the pa3mient of 
the debt in a month, he would consent to wait ; if 
not, he was determined to arrest Bob that day. 

I hesitated for a moment ; but, recollecting his 
prompt payment of the hundred and ninety pounds, 
I made myself responsible for the amount of the 
bill, and then returned to congratulate my friend. 

When I told him what I had done, he started up 
and exclaimed, " You do not mean it I — ^you cannot 
have made yourself responsible for the amount of 
that fellow's bUl!" 

" I have, I assure you," said I. 

"Then," said Bob, ".vou will hare to pay it; I 
shall not have the money myself; I never asked 
you to incur the responsibility, — I never expected 
it, — and I repeat that you will have to pay it." 

" My dear Bob," said I, " it will not be in my 
power ; I am peculiarly situated. At the end of 
a month, I shall be most particularly engaged — ^my 
hands, as it were, will be tied^ and paying this at 
that particular period will be out of the question." 

Still Bob persisted that he never asked me to be- 
come responsible, and it ended in his leaving me in 
a very ill humor. My engagements with legal per- 
sons employed me for days t^^ther in the city, 
and I saw very little of Bob. When we did meet, 
my manner was cold and restrained ; and it was not 
till within a day or two of the expiration of the 
month that I had time to think of the very inop- 
portune and annoying responsibility which I had 
incurred. 

That very day, I met Bob, and spoke to him most 
earnestly and seriously about the payment ; but he 
sighed most deeply, told me how much he lamented 
my having engaged to make the payment, and pa- 



HT HONOBABLB FRIEND BOB. 



tiiellcmlty bemoamd the emptiness of bis own 
{KickeU. The D«it momiDg, I eslled od the tsilor, 
eameatl; nqueiitiilg him to renew the draft Tor 
ftnother month, and was then told that mj honora- 
ble friend had called that veij daj, and had placed 
in his hands the sum for which I wu responsible ' 
I went instanllj to call upon him, and he j 
ceived me with laughter, in which I could not i 
rin joininf ; but I confESS 1 laughed the more fro 
the recoAcUon that my hour of revenge was 

About a fortnight afterwards, (the familf of m; 
intended baring arriTed in town for the wedding, 
which was to lake place the next morning at St, 
George's Church, HanoTer Square,) Bob inquired 
" rhat it was that seemed lo occupy me from morn- 
ing till night, and lohif it was that we so seldom 

" My dear Bob," said I, "it has been a secretl" 

"Oh! asecretl" 

"Tes; and the wctet has not been tntirtti/ mj 

"Indeed!" said Bob. 

"Bnt I will now conceal nothing from you: you, 
I remember, before you went away, conGded your 

"Oh! — ah! — hem — jea-^wellf" stammered Bob. 
" I un gtnns to be married to-morrow." 
"iliuriedt'^eieluined Bob: "tell me all about 
it; who it Ac,— do / Imow herT 

"Tou do wot know her; but I have heard you 

"Indeed! Whete doeisheKveT — is she pretty T 
—is she ricbr 

"There ilDO time," sud I, "to answer your quel- 
tionii at present : I dine with the family at at, and 
I mean to take you with me. Qo and dress, and in 
half an hoar I will call for you in a carHaee," 

"Wbere does jour intended lireT" said Bob as 
we drore along Oxford Street and turned into Or- 
chard Street. 

"Time will show," I replied. 

"Where are wc nowT said Bob u tbo carriage 
made a sudden turn. 

" We are in Portman Square," I replied. 



riagc actually stopped at Mr. Uoleswt 



"Bv 1 



9 the 



Ibundering kiiocit at the door, and then let down 
the sleiM uflhe carriage. 

" Look," said 1, pointing upward.^, while we wailed 
for the sireel-door to be opened ; " vou see those 
three windows with sky-blue curUins?" 

"0! spare me!" cried Bob. 

" That room I always mean lo reserve txetiaivelg 
for you : there is a wonderful sofa, silken without, 
and marble within," 

" My dear friend !" said Bob imploringly. 

"Don't interrupt me," I proceeded; — '"an exqui- 
site bath wiih three cocks ; one for hot water, one 
for cold, and one for tmt^tt- Cologne. But we have 
no lime now to expatiate on its advantages ;" and 
I jumped out of the carriaf^. 

"Why, you yron't go in I" cried Bob as he brealh- 
IcshIt run up the steps alter me, and vigorously 
pulled at the tail of my coat. 

"Hoinl" laid I ; "to be sure: and you will meet 
old friends, and show me where you used to mi 
the lady of your love, and " 

"You are going too farl" whispered Bob: 
see my error ; I uttered what was false — forgive 
mc — I am curt^d. But theso servants and the in 
mates of the house will think ua mad!" 

" Kot at all," I replied. " Speak the truth in fi 
ture, as I have done to you." 

I preswd bis hand, and led him up stairs. I saw 
that he was depressed and humiliated; and when 
we got to the drawing-room dnor, he whispered, 

" And do Ikeg know ilf 1 cannot face Ihem.'' 

"They know nothing" I replied, "and shall never 
know from me any thing discreditable to my honor- 
able friend Bob." 

" 1 will never ulter a fal.<ehood ogun," sud Bob. 
And 1 firmly believe he adhered to his resolution. 




A TRAOEDT. 



HEADING A TRAGEDY. 




It bos a ilepply-Btirring plot— 

They'll feel for m^ iweet Heroine «n Inierest in- 

: lugB, it ne^er flagB, it cannot fiul to 

Indeed, I fear the sensitive maj feel it ovtr 

much; 
But Btill a dash of pathos irith my 

The bright reward of tragic Bard— the laurel vill 



Place chairs for all tlie companj, and, Ma'am, I 

really thinic 
If JDU don't srnd that child to bed, he will not 

sleep a wink ; 
I know he'll screech like any thing before Tve read 

a page; 
Uy second act would terrify a creature of that 

age: 
And should the darting, scared by mc, become an 

Thoagh j(iiff«r'jat the circumstance — how sorry I 

should feel I 
Whatl aorCl you Send the child K» bed? well, 

Uadam, we shall see : — 
Pray take a chair, and now prepare the laurel 



Have M got nnrkct-handkerchicGt? your tears will 

fall in streams: 
Place water near to sprinkle orer any one who 



And pray, good People, recollsct, when what V<ir 

aaid controls 
Tour sympathies, and actually harrows up your 

Remember, (it may save yon all from suicide, or 

fita.) 
'Tig but a mortal man who opes the flood-gates of 



B my brightest gem, 



hisi 
Retain your intellects b 

(iny mom/) 
And, when I've done, I'm very sure yonll vrsathe 

mj brow with laureL 

Hem—" Act ihifirii, and letne iht Jb r t a wood— 

£mnnoApli enlern — 
Bummmpti iptak; ' And hare I then escaped from 

Revenge I Revenge 1 oh, were they dead, and / ■ 

I'd pick the flesh from off thrir bones, PdseTettoe 

Shall fair Pryfritta, pledged to me, her plighted 

vow recall. 
And wed with hated Snookiuni or with any man at 

all! 
No — rather perish earth and sea, the sky 

the rest of it — 
For wife to mc she swore she'd be, and ihe 

make the best of it.'" 



DEADLT NTOHTSHADE, 



711 



Tlirough five long *cU— aj, ray long, the lutpp; 

Bard proceeds ; 
Without ■ pause, without appUuM, (csne after 

scene be r«ads I 
That tilml homage glada bte heart 1 It aileut well 

Xot oDe of all bii tlomberiiig friendi can either 



The a 



ixioug Chaperon U asleep! the Bean heside 

the Fair I 
The dog is sleeping on the rug I the cat upon the 

Old men and babes — the Footman, too ! oh, if we 

crown the Bard, 
Well twine for him the Poppy wreath, his onlj St 



DEADLY KIGHT8HADE. 




The lamp upon the tapestry 

I could not doze, I could not steep, I heard the 
rstB and mice ; 



I thought of all mj evil deeda, and wished them ell 

nndone, 
I longed to bear the merry laric, and see the ridng 



I did not thrust 

I longed to call ont lostOj, but 



ring the bell to ■otuinon man or 
a finger forth, becan»e I wis 



I graaped the bUnketa and the sheets and held them 

o'er my bead. 
I heard a most alarminir noise, I neier heud the 

like, 
Jott as the turret-clock ftmok twelret a horrid 

hour to atiike I 



And down mj chimne; screeching came a roost 

malignnnt ilend — 
I sat up trembling in my bed — good gracious, how 

be grinn'd I 

Upon the marble mantelpiece there flared a globe 

of flame 1 
And in it dunced distorted forms too horrible to 

Aod on the hearth the Fiend still sat! 1 fainted 

with aflright I 
But rose neit tnorn to trace the cause the moment 

there was light. 
The Fiend was but a tabby cat! the globe of flame 

A shade of paper for the lamp — such as my rasters 

Twas traced with ghosts and skeletons from char- 

nel-houseB damp ! 
It itn'l nice to have a Deadly mghtshade for one's 



THE -WOBLD A8 TT IS. 



THE WORLD AS IT 



UfOHTKODB. 



"Whit & delightful thing the world it I Lad; 
Lennoi'a ball, lut nigbt — how cliarming it vul — 
ever; one to kind, and Cliarlotte looking *o preit<r 
— the nicest girl I etfT aawt But 1 miut dren 
now. Balfour ie to be here at tiielve nilh the 
horse be wanta to sell me. How lui^kj I am to 
have auch a friend as Biifour!— bo enlertainitig — 
■O good-natured — eo deyilisli clever too— and auch 
%Q eicelleat bearti Ab! how unluck; I it raioa a 
little; but never mind, it vill clear up; and if it 
don't— vh;, ther«'a billiards. What » deUgbtful 
thing tbe world is t" 

So soliloquized Charles Nugent, ■ man of twentj- 
ooe— a philanihropiet — an optimist. Uur young 

Sntleman was an orphan, of good family and large 
-tune ; brave, generous, confiding, and open- 
hearted. His ability was above the ordinar; stand- 
ard, and he bad a warm love and a pure taste for 
letters. He bad even bent a knee to Pbilosophj, 
but the calm and cold gracea with which the god- 
dess receives her aervonts had soon discontented the 
foung votarj with the worship. "Awajl" cried 
e, one morning, flinging aside the volume of La 
Bocbefoucault, which be bad fancied he under- 
Btood ; " AwB J with this selfish and dcbaaing code t 
— men are not tbe mean thiuga tbej are here de- 
scribed — be it mine lotliink exulting of my speciea!" 
If y dear Eiperience, with how many fine sentiments 
do jou intend to play the devilf it is not without 
reason that Goethe tells us, that though Fate is an 
excellent, abe ia also a very expensive school- 



"Ha! mj dear Nugent, bow are jouf" and Cap- 
tain Balfour enters tlie room : a fine, dark, band- 
home fellow, with something of prelengion io his 
air and a great deal of frankness. "And here ia 
the horse. Come to the window. Does he not 
step fineljT What action! Do you remark big 
forehand ? How be carries his tail 1 Gad, I don't 
think you shall have him, alter all I" " Kay, my 
dear fellow, you may well be lorry to part with 
him. He Is superb I Quite sound— eh r "Have 
him examined. " Do you think I would not take 
your word for it f The price ?" "Fii it yourself 
Prince Paul once offered me a hundred-aiid-cighty ; 

but to you " "You shall have it." "No, 

Nugent — say, a hundred -an d-fi fly." " I won't be 
outdone — there's a draft for the 180/." "Upon 
my sou], I'm ashamed ; but you are euch a rich 
fellow. John, lake the horse to Mr. Nugent'g 
Btablea. Where will you dine to^laj? — at the 
Cocoa-treef" " With all my heart." 

The young men rode together. Nugent was de- 
lighted with his new purchase. They dined at the 
Cocoa-tree. Balfour ordered some e»rly peaches. 
Nugent paid the bill. They went to the Opera. 
"Do you see that rfonwu*!, Florine ?" asked Bal- 
four. "Pretty ankio — ebf "Yes, ei/inmt fo — 
but dances awkwardly — not handsome. " What ! 
not handsome F Come and talk to her. She's 
more admired than any girl on the stage." They 
went behind the sccnea. and Balfour convinced his 
Mend that ho ought to be enchanted with Florine. 
Before the weeL was out. the dantnite kept ber 
carriage, and in return, Nugent supped with her 
twice ■ week- 



Nugent bad written a tale for " The Keepnke ;' 
it was his first hterary effort ; It was tolerably good, 
and exceedingly popular. One day, he was loung- 
ing aver his breakfast, and a tall, thin gentleman, 
ID black, was announced by tbe name of Mr. Gilpin. 
Mr. Gilpin made a most respectful bow, and 
heaved a peculiarly profound sigh. Nugent was 
instantly seiied with a Uvely interest in tbe straneer. 
" Sir, it is with great regret," faltered forth Jif. 
Gilpin, " that I seek you. I — I — 1 — " A low, 
consumptive congh checked his speech. Nugent 
offered him a cup of tea. Tbe dvibtv was refused, 
and tbe story continued. Ur. Gilpin's narration it 
soon told, when he himself ia not iJie narrator. An 
unfortunate literary man — once in affluent circum- 
stances — security for a treacheroiu friend — friend 
abaconded — pres&ure of unforeaeeli circumstancoi — 
angel wife and four cherub children — a book 
coming out next season — deep distress at present — 
horror at being forced to beg — generous sentiments' 
expressed in the tale written by Mr. Nugent forcibly 
struck him — a ray of hope broke on his mind— and 
voila the causes of Ur. Gilpin's distreas and Mr. 
Gilpm's visit. Never was (here ■ more inteTcMigg 
personification of the afflicted man of letter* tbia 
Gregory Gilinn. He looted pale, patient, and re- 
specuble; he coughed frequently, and he was 
dressed in deep monmiag. Nugent's heart swelled 
— he placed a bank-note in Mr. Gilpin's hands — be 
promised more effectual relief, and Mr. Gilpin re- 
tired, overpowered with his own gratitude and Mr. 
Nugent's respectful compaanon. "How bappy I 
am to be rich I" said the generous young pfaliaD- 
throiNst, tbmwing open his chest. 

Nugent went to a converaaiione at I^dy Len- 
" ' .dyship was a widow, and a charming 




THK WORLD A6 IT IS. 



713 



of the coquette, and a great deal of the sentimenta- 
list. She had one dau;;hter, without a shilling ; she 
had taken a warm interest in a young man of the 
remarkable talents and amiability of Charles Nugent. 
He sat next her — they talked of the heartlessness 
of the world — it is a subject on which men of 
twenty-one and ladies of forty-five arc esp<>ctally 
e7o<iuent. Lady Lennox complained, Mr. Nugent 
defended. " One does not talk much of innocence," 
it is said, or sometliing like it is said, somewhere in 
Madame d^ Epinay^s Memoirs, ** without being sadly 
corrupted ;" and nothing brings out the goodnesj 
of our own hearts more than a charge against the 
heartlessness of others. ** An excellent woman !" 
thought Nugent ; " what warm feeling.^ ! — how 
pretty her ^ughter is ! Oh, a charming family !" 
Charlotte Lennox played an affecting air ; Nugent 
leaned over the piano ; they talked about music, 
poetry, going on the water, sentiment and Rich- 
mond liilL They made up a party of pleasure. 
Nugent did not sleep well that night — ^Iie was cer- 
tainly in love. When he rose the next morning, 
the day was bright and fine ; Balfour, the best of 
friends, was to be with him in an hour ; BaHbur^s 
horse, the best of horses, was to convey him to 
Richmond ; and at Richmond he was to meet Lady 
Lennox, the most agreeable of mothers — and Char- 
lotte, the most enchanting of daughters. The dan- 
»ettm had always been a bore — she was now forgot- 
ten. "It certainly is a delightful world !'' repeated 
Nugent, as he tied his neckcloth. 

It was some time — we will not say how long — 
aAer the date of this happy day ; Nugent was alone 
in his apartment, and walking to and fro — his arms 
folded, and a frown upon his brow. ** What a 
rascal ! what a mean wretch ! — and the horse was 
Ume when he sold it — not worth ten pounds I — 
and I so confiding — d my folly ! That^ how- 
ever, I should not mind ; but to have saddled mc 
with his cast-off mistress ! — ^to make nie the laugh- 
ing-stock of the world! By heavens, he shall re- 
pent it! Borrowed money of me, then made 
a jest of my good-nature ! — introduced me to his 
club, in order to pillage me! — but, thank God, 
thank God, I can shoot him yet ! Ha ! Colonel ; 
this la kind!^ Colonel Nelmore, an elderly gentle- 
man, well known in society, with a fine forehead, a 
shrewd, contemplative eye, and an agreeable ad- 
dress, entered the room. To him Nugent poured 
forth the long list of his grievances, and concluded 
by begging him to convey a challenge to the best 
of friends---Captain Balfour. The Colonel raised 
his eyebrows. "But, — my dear sir, — this gentle- 
man has certainly behaved ill to you, I allow it — 
but for what specific offence do you mean to chal- 
lenge him ?** " For his conduct in general." The 
Colonel laughed. "For saying yesterday, then, 

that I was grown a d d bore, and he should 

cut me in future. He told Selwyn so in the bow- 
window at White's."* The Colonel took snuff. " My 
good young friend,** said he, "I see you don*t know 
the world. Come and dine with me to-day — a 

fimctllal seven. We*ll talk over these matters. 
eanwbile, you cant challenge a man for calling 
yoa a bore. " Not challenge him ! — what should 
I do thenf* "Laugh — shake your head at him, 
and say — *Ah! Balfour, you*re a sad fellow!'** 
The Colonel succeeded in preventing the challenge, 
but Nugent*s indignation at the best of friends re- 
mained as warm as ever. He declined the Colonel's 



invitation — he was to dine with the Lennoxes. 
Meanwhile, he went to the shady part of Kensing- 
ton Gardens to indulge his reflections. He sat 
himself down in an arbor, and looked moralizingly 
over the initials, the dates, and the witticisms, that 
hands, long since mouldering, have consigned to 
the admiration of posterity. 

A gay party was strolling by this retreat — their 
laughter and voices preceded them. " Yes,** said 
a sharp, dry voice, which Nugent recognized as be- 
longing to one of the wits of the day — " Yes, I saw 
you. Lady Lennox, talking sentiment to Nugent — 
lie ! how could you waste your time so unprotita- 
bly!'* "Ah! poor young man! he is certainly 
bien bete^ with his fine phrases and so forth: but 
'tis a good creature on the whole, and exceedingly 
useful !" " Useful !" " Yes; fills up a vacant place 
at one's table, at a day's warning; lends me his 
carriage-horses when mine have caught cold ; sub- 
scribes to my charities for me ; and supplies the 
drawing-room with flowers. In a word, if he were 
more sensible, he would be less agreeable : his solo 
charm is his foibles." 

Proh Jupiter ! what a description, from the 
most sentimental of mothers, of the most talented, 
the most interesting of young men. Nugent was 
thunderstruck ; the party swept by ; he was undis- 
covered. lie raved, he swore, he was furious. He 
go to the dinner to-day ? No, he would write such 
a letter to the lady — it should speak daggers ! But 
the daughter: Charlotte was not of the party. 
Charlotte — oh! (charlotte was quite a ditlerent 
creature from her mother — the most natural, the 
most simple of human beings, and evidently loved 
him. lie could not be mistaken there. Yes, for 
her sake he would go to the dinner; he would 
smother his just resentment. 

He went to La<ly Lennox's. It was a large party. 
The young Marquis of Austerly had just returned 
from his travels. He was sitting next to the most 
lovely of daughters. Nugent was forgotten. After 
dinner, however, he found an opportunity to say a 
few words in a whis|>er to Charlotte. He hinted a 
tender reproach, and he begged her to sing " We 
met ; Hioas in a crowds Charlotte was hoarse — had 
caught cold. Charlotte could not sing. Nugent 
left the room. When he got to the end of the 
street, he discovered that he had left his cane be- 
hind. He went back for it, glad (for he was really 
in love) of an excuse for darting an angry glance 
at the most simple, the most natural of human 
beings, that should prevent her sleeping the 
whole night. He ascended the drawing-room ; and 
Charlotte was delighting the Marquis of Austerly, 
who leaned over her chair, with We viet ; Utoas in a 
crowds Charlotte Lennox was young, lovely, and 
artful. Lord Austerly was young, inexperienced, 
and vain. In less than a month, he proposed, and 
was accepted. 

" Well, well !" said poor Nugent, one morning, 
breaking from a reverie ; " betrayed in my friend- 
ship, deceived in my love, the pleasure of doing 
good is still left to me. Friendship quits us at the 
first stage of life. Love at the second, Benevolence 
lasts till death ! Poor (rilpin ! how grateful he is: 
I must see if I can get him that place abroad.** 
To amuse his thoughts, he took up a new magazine. 
He opened the page at a violent attack on himself 
— on his beautiful tale in the "Keepsake.** The 
satire was not confined to the work ; it extended 
to the author. He was a fop, a coxcomb, a ninny^ 



1U 



THE WORLD AS IT IS* 



an intellectual dwarf, a miserable creature, and an 
abortion. These are pleasant studies for a man out 
of spirits, especially before he is used to them. 
Nugent had just flung the magazine to the other 
end of the room, when his lawyer came to arrange 
matters about a mortgage, which the generous 
Nugent had already been forced to raise on his 
estates. The lawyer was a pleasant, entertaining 
man of the world, accustomed to the society, for 
he was accustomed to the wants, of young men. He 
perceived Nugent was a little out of humor. He 
attributed the cause, naturally enough, to the mort- 
gage ; and to divert his thoughts, he entered first 
on a general conversation. 

** What rogues there are in the world I" said he. 
Nugent groaned. **Thi8 morning, for instance, 
before I came to you, I was engaged in a curious 
piece of business enough. A gentleman gave his 
son-in-law a qualification to stand for a borough ; 
the son-in-law kept the deed, and so cheated the 
good gentleman out of more than Si)Ol. a-year. 
Yesterday, I was employed against a fraudulent 
bankrupt — such an instance of long, premeditated, 
cold-hearted, deliberate rascality! And when I 
leave you, I must see what is to be done with a 
literary swindler, who, on the strength of a con- 
sumptive cough, and a suit of black, has been re- 
spectably living on compassion for the lost two 
years." " Ila !" *' He has just committed the most 
nefarious fraud — a forgery, in short, on his own 
uncle, who has twice seriously distressed himself to 
save the rogue of a nephew, and who must now 
submit to this loss, or proclaim, by a criminal pro- 
secution, the disgrace of his own family. The 
nephew proceeded, of course, on his knowledge of 
my client^s goodness of heart; and thus a man 
suiSers in proportion to his amiability.^' '* Is his 
name Gil— Ciil — Gilpin ?" stammered Nugent. *'The 
same! 0-ho! have you been bit too, Mr. Nugent?" 

Before our hero could answer, a letter was 
brought to him. Nugent tore the seal; it was 
from the editor of the magazine in which he had 
just read his own condemnation. It ran thus : — 

** Sir, — Having been absent from London on un- 
avoidable business for the last month, and the care 

of the Magazine having thereby devolved on 

another, who has very ill discharged its duties, I 
had the surprise and mortification of perceiving, 
on my return this day, that a most unwarrantable 
and personal attack upon you has been admitted in 
the number for this month. I cannot sufficiently 
express my regret, the more especially on finding 
that the article in question was written by a mere 
mercenary in letters. To convince you of my con- 
cern, and my resolution to guard against such un- 
worthy proceedings in future, I enclose you an- 
other, and yet severer attack, which was sent to 
08 for our next number, and for which, I grieve to 
say, the unprincipled author has already succeeded 
in obtaining from the proprietors — a remuneration," 
etc., etc., etc. 

Nugent's eyes fell on the enclosed paper ; it was in 
the handwriting of Mr. Gregory Gilpin, the most 
grateful of distressed literary men. 

" You seem melancholy to-day, my dear Nugent," 
said Colonel Nelmore, as he met his young friend 
walking with downcast eyes on the old mall of St. 
James's Park. ** I am unhappy, I am discontented ; 



the gloss is faded from Kfe," answered Nugent, 
sighing. *'I love meeting with a pensive man," 
said the Colonel ; ** let me join you, and let us dine 
together, tete-d-tete, at my bachelor's house. You 
refused me some time ago ; may I be more fortu- 
nate now ?" ** I shall be but poor company," re- 
joined Nugent ; " but I am very much obliged to 
you, and I accept your invitation with pleasure." 

Colonel Nelmore was a man who had told some 
fifty years. He had known misfortune in his day, 
and he had seen a great deal of the harsh realities 
of life. But he had not suffered nor lived in vain. 
He was no theorist, and did not affect the philoso- 
pher ; but he was contented with a small fortune, 
popular with retired habits, observant for a love of 
study, and, above all, he did a great deal of gene- 
ral good, exactly because he embraced no particu- 
lar evstem. 

" Yes," said Nugent, as they sat together after ^ 
dinner, and the younger man had embosomed to 
the elder, who had been his father's most intimate 
friend, all that had seemed to him the most unex- 
ampled of misfortunes — after he had rei)eated the 
perfidies of Balfour, the faithlessness of Charlotte, 
and the rascalities of Gilpin — " Yes," said he, " I 
now see my error ; I no longer love my species ; I 
no longer place reliance in the love, friendship, 
sincerity, or virtue of the world ; I will no longer 
trust myself open-hearted in this vast community 
of knaves ; I will not fly mankind, but I will des- 
pise them." The Colonel smiled. ** You shall put 
on your bat, my young friend, and pay a little visit 
with me : — nay, no excuse ; it is only an old lady, 
who has given me permission to drink tea with 
her." Nugent demurred, but consented. The two 
gentlemen walked to a small house in the Regent's 
Park. They were admitted to a drawing-room, 
where they found a blind old lady, of a cheerful 
countenance and prepossessing manners. '* And 
how does your son do I" asked the Colonel, after 
the first salutations were over, ** have you seen him 
lately?" **Seen him lately! why, you know he 
rarely lets a day pass without calling on or writing 
to me. Since the affliction which visited me with 
blindness, though he has nothing to hope from me, 
though from my jointure I must necessarily be a 
burden to one of his limited income, and mixing so 
much with the world as he does ; yet bad I l^n 
the richest mother in England, and every thing at 
my own disposal, he could not have been more at- 
tentive, more kind to me. He will cheerfully give 
up the gayest party to come and read to me, if I 
am the least unwell, or the least out of spirits ; and 
he sold his horses to pay Miss Blandly, since I 
could not afford from my own income to pay the 
salary so accomplished a musician asked, to become 
my companion. Music, you know, is now my chief 
luxury. Oh, he is a paragon of sons — the worid 
thinks him dissipated and heartless; but if they 
could see how tender he is to me!" exclaimed the 
mother, clasping her hands, as the tears gushed 
from her eyes. Nugent was charmed ; the Colonel 
encouraged the lady to proceed ; and Nugent 
thought he had never passed a more agreeable hour 
than in listening to her maternal praises of her 
affectionate son. 

** Ah, Colonel !" said he, as they left the house, 
how much wiser have you been than myself; yea 
have selected your friends with discretion. What 
would not I give to possess such a friend as that 
good son must be ! But you never told me the 



V " 



' *•» 



THE WORLD A8 FT IB. 



Mj'a ntm^." "Pitirace," uJd th« Coloael, tkking 
maB, " 1 h«Te another vigit to paj," 

Nelmore turned donn a liltle allej, and knocked 
■t ■ Binall coluge. A Honian with a child at her 
breast opened the door ; and Nugent alood in one 
of those KcneB of cheerful pOTerlj which it io 
•atiBSe* the complacency of the rich to behold, 
"Aha!" uid Nelmore, looking rouod, "you aecm 
comfortable enough now ; jniir benefactor hm not 
done his woric by halves." " Blessings on bis 
beart, nol Oh, sr, when I thinic how distressed 
be is himself^ how otlen he hag been put to it for 
money, how calumniated he ii by the world, I can- 
not express bow grateful I am, how grateful I 
onght to be. He has robbed hiniBelf to feed u\ 
and merely because he knew my budband in youth." 
The Colonel permitted the woman to run on. Xu- 
gtat wiped liis eyes, and lelt hid puriie behind him. 
"Who ia thia admirable, thia iclf-denyin); moti?" 
cried he, when they were once more in the street. 
"He is in distress himself— would I could relievo 
him ! Ah, you already reconcile mc to the world. 
I acknowledge your motive, in leading me hither i 
there are good men as weU as bad. Ait are not 
Balfours and Gilpioal But the name — the name 
of these poor people's benefactors 1" 

"fitay,"Baid the Colonel, as they now entered 
Oifonl-strtet; " this is lucky indeed, I see a good 
lady whom I wish to accost." "Well, Mrs. John- 
WD," addressing a stout, comely, middle-aged wo- 
■no of respectable appearance, who, with a basket 
on her aim, was coming out of an oil shop; "so 



T15 

have known her since she was that high !" " What, 
she's gDOd-tem]iered, I suppose?" said the Colonel 
sneering. " Good-tempered — I bciicvc it is impos> 
sible for her to say a harsh word to any one. 
There never was so mild. So even-like a temper." 
" What, and not hcnrllcsB, eh I this is too pood!" 
"Heartlrss ! she nunied inc herself when I broke my 
leg coming up Blairs : and every night before she went 



bed, would c 



^' if 1 w 



my P 



with h. 



fancy, Mrs. Johnson, that she'll make a good wife ; 
why, she was not much in love when she married." 
"I don't know as to (liat, sir, whi'ther she was or 
not ; but I'm sure she Is always studying my Lord's 
wishes, and I heard hitn myself say this very morn- 
ing to his brotlicr — 'Arthur, if you knew what a 
treasure I possces.'" "You ore very right," said 
the Colonel, resuming his natural manner ; " and I 
only spoke for the pleasure of seeing how well and 
how justly you could defend your miiitress; she ia, 
truly, an excellent lady — good evening to you." 

" 1 have seen that woman before," Kaid Nugent, 
" but I can't think where ; she has the appearance 
of being a hounekeeper in some family." "She ia 
BO." '■ How pleasant it is to hear of female excel- 
lence in the grcul world," continued Nugent, sigh- 
ing ; " it was evident to see the honest servant was 
sincere in her praise. Unppy husband, whoever 
he may he !" 

They were now at the Colonel's house. " Just 
let me read this passage," said Nelmore, opening 
the pages of a French philosopher, and as 1 do not 




yM have been laboring In your vocation, I lee — 
making household purchases. And hoir ia your 
jonng lady •' " Very well, sir, I'm happy to say," 
replied the woman, coartseying. "And you are 
well, too, I hope, Mr." " Yes, considering the dis- 
tfpatioo of the long season, pretty well, thank you. 
Bat I suppose your young mistress ia as gay and 
bortlefls as ever — a mere fashionable wife, eh!" 
"Sir," said tho woman, bridling up, " there is not a 
better lady in the world tban my young lady ; 1 



ve, I will translate aa 



"In order to love mankind — expect but little 
from them ; in order to view their faults, without 
bitlerness. we must accustom ourselves to pardon 
them, and to perceive that indulgence ia a Justice 
which frail humanity has a right to demand from 
wisdom. Now nothing lends more to dispose uato 
indulgence, to close our hearts against hatred, to 



Y16 



ON Tins INCONVENIENCES BEBULTING FROM BEING HANGED. 



open them to the principles of a humane and soft 
morality, than a profound knowledge of the human 
heart — tlmt knowledge which La Rochefoucault 
possessed. Accordingly, the wisest men have al- 
ways been the most indulgent," etc. 

" And now prepare to be surprised. That good 
son whom you admired so much — whom you wish- 
ed you could obtaiu as a friend, is Captain Balfour 
— ^that generous, self-denying man, whom you de- 
sired yourself so nobly to relieve, is Mr. Gilpin — 
that young lady, who, in the flush of health, beauty, 
dissipation, and conquest, could attend the sick 
chamber of her servant, and whom her husband dis- 
covers to be a treasure, is Charlotte Lennox!" 

"Good Heavens !" cried Nugent, " what then am 
I to believe f has some juggling been practised on 
my understanding? and are Balfour, Gilpin, and 
Miss Lennox, after all, patterns of perfection ?" 

" No, indeed, very far from it ; Balfour is a dissi- 
pated, reckless man — of loose morality and a low 
standard of honor ; he saw you were destined to 
purchase experience — he saw you were destined to 
be plundered by some one — he thought he might 
as well be a candidate for the profit. He laughed 
afterwards at your expense — not because he de- 
spised you ; on the contrary, I believe that he liked 
you very much in his way; but because, in the 
world he lives in, every man enjoys a laugh at his 
acquaintance. Charlotte Lennox saw in you a de- 
sirable match; nay, I believe she had a positive 
regard for you: but she had been taught all her 
life to think equipage, wealth, and station better 
than love. She could not resist the temptation of 
being Marchioness of Austerly — not one girl in 
twenty could ; yet she is not on that account the 



less good-tempered, good-natured, or leas likely to 
be a good mistress and a tolerable wife. Gilpin is 
the worst instance of the three. Gilpin is an evi- 
dent scoundrel; but Gilpin is in evident distress. 
He was in all probability very sorry to attack yoo, 
who had benefited him so largely ; but perhaps, as 
he is a dull dog, the only thing the Magazines would 
buy of him was abu8e. You must not think be 
maligned you out of malice, out of ingratitude, out 
of wantonness ; he maligned you for ten guinets. 
Yet Gilpin is a man, who, having swindled bis 
father out of ten guineas, would in the joy of the 
moment give five to a beggar. In the present case 
he was actuated by u better feeling ; he was serving 
the friend of his childhood — few men forget those 
youthful ties, however they trample on others. 
Your mistake was not the single mistake of sap* 
posing the worst people the best — it was the double 
mistake of supposing commonplace people — now 
the best — now the worst ; in making what might 
have been a pleasant acquaintance an intimate 
friend ; in believing a man in distress must neces- 
sarily be a man of merit ; in thinking a good-tem- 
pered, pretty ^rl, was an exalted specimen of 
Human Nature. You were then about to &11 into 
the opposite extreme — and to be as indiscrimina- 
ting in suspicion as you were in credulity. Would 
that I could flatter myself that I had saved yon 
from that — the more dangerous error of the two !" 

"You have — my dear Nelmore: and now lend 
me your philosopher !" 

" With pleasure ; but one short maxim is as good 
as all Philosophers can teach you, for Philosophers 
can only enlarge on it — it is simple — ^it is this — 

' TAK£ THE WORLD AS IT IS.* '* 



• •• 



ON THE INCONVENIENCES RESULTING FROM BEING HANGED. 

BT CHARLES LAMB. (eLIA.) 



TO THE EDITOR OF THE REFLECTOR. 

Sir, — I am one of those unhappy persons whose 
misfortunes, it seems, do not entitle them to the 
benefit of pure pity. All that is bestowed upon me 
of that kind alleviator of human miseries comes 
dashed with a double portion of contempt. My 
griefs have nothing in them that is felt as sacred 
by the bystanders. Yet is my affliction in truth of 
the deepest grain — the heaviest task that was ever 
^vcn to mortal patience to sustain. Time, that 
wears out all other sorrows, can never modify or 
soften mine. Here they must continue to gnaw as 
long as that fatal mark 

Why was I ever bom ? Why was innocence in 
my person suffered to be branded with a stain which 
was appointed only for the blackest guilt ? What 
had I done, or my parents, that a disgrace of mine 
should involve a whole posterity in infamy? I 
am almost tempted to believe, that, in some pre- 
existent state, crimes to which this sublunary life 
of mine hath been as much a stranger as the babe 
that is newly born into it, have drawn down upon 
me this vengeance, so disproportionate to my ac- 
tions on this globe. 

My brain sickens, and my bosom labors to be de- 
livered of the weight that presses upon it, yet my 
conscious pen shrinks from the avowal. But out it 
must 



0, Mr. Reflector 1 guess at the wretch*s misery 
who now writes this to you, when, with tears and 
burning blushes, he is obliged to confess that be 
has been ^hanoeo 

Methinks I hear an involuntary exclamation burst 
from you, as your imagination presents to you 
fearful images of your correspondent unknown — 
hanged I 

Fear not, Mr. Editor. No disembodied spirit has 
the honor of addressing you. I am flesh and blood, 
an unfortunate system of bones, muscles, sinews, 
arteries, like yourself. 

Then^ Iprentme^ you mean to be pleaeani, — Tk«t 
expreenon of yourty Mr, Correspondent^ mtut he 
taken notnehow in a metaphorieaf eenee 

In the plainest sense, without trope or figure — 
Yes, Mr. Editor ! this neck of mine has felt the 
fatal noose, these hands have tremblingly held up 
the corroborative prayer-book, — these lips have 
sucked the moisture of the last consolatory orange, 
— this tongue has chanted the doleful cantata which 
no performer was ever called upon to repeat, — 
this face has had the veiling night-cap drawn over 
it 

But for no crime of mine. — ^Far be it from me to 
arraign the justice of my country, which, though 
tardy, did at length recognize my innocence. It 
is not for me to reflect upon Ju^^ or jury, now 



r THE IHCOSViariKNCES KK8ULTIMO FROM BEING nANOZD. 



that eletfiL yftn hare elapsed nncc the 
•entente wai pronouuced. Siea will aWavs b« fal- 
lible, and perbapa circumitBDCCa did appear at the 

lime * Ultle atrong 

Safflce it to aa;, that afler han^ng four minuteB, 
(m the spectatoTB were pleased io L-ompule il, — a 
man that ia beinj; atrauglcd, I knoir J'mni czpe- 
rieDC, has altogelher a difTeicnt meaaiire of time 
from bis friendi who are brcathiag leiaurely about 
him, — I BUppo<e the miniitea lengthen bb lime np- 
proachca eteroily, in the aame manner aa the 
miles get longer *a jou travel northward.) — after 
hanging four mmutes, according to the best calfu- 
latioD of the bjalandera, a reprieve cunie, and I 

Beallj I am aihamed of deforming ;our pajcea 
with theie technical plirawa — if I knew how to ei' 
preaa my meaning aliorler 

Bat to proceed. Hj Gmt care aRer I hud been 
brought to myself by the usual niclliods, (those 
tnethoda that are so interesting to the operator and 
fail ssnstanta, who are pretty numerous on auch 
occaaions,— but which no patient was ever desirous 
of nndergoing a aecond time for the beiiofit of 
•cience,) my Nrat care was to provide myself with 
•n enormoui atoek or cravat to bide the place — 
you undersland mc ; — my oeit care was to procure 
■ residence as dintiint aa possible from thul part of 
the country where I had suffered. For that reaHoii 
I chose tlic metropolis, as the place where wound' 
ed honor (I had been loid) could lurk vith the least 
danger of eiciling inquiry, and sligmnlizcd inno- 
cence had the best chance of hiding her disgrace 
to a crowd. I sought out a new circle of aci|UHinl- 
UKe, and my drvumstancea happily enabling mc 
to pursue my fnncy in that reapect, I endeavored, 
by mingling in all the pleasures which llio town 
affords, to efface the memory of what I had under- 

But, alas! such ia the portentous and all-pervad- 
ing chain of connection which links together the 
head and members of this great community, my 
scheme of lying perdu was defeated almost at the 
outset. A countryman of mine, whom a foolish 
law-suit had brought to town, by chance met me, 
Uld the secret waa soon blaioned about. 

In a short time, I found myself deserted by most 
of thoae who had been my intimate friends. Not 
that anT guilt was supposed to attach to iny char- 
acter. 'Xy officious coualryman, to do himjuitice, 
had been candid enough to ciplain my perfect in- 
nocence. But, somehow or other, there is a want 
of strong virtue in mankind. We have plenty of 
the softer instincts, but the heroic character ia gone. 
Eow else can 1 account for it, that of all my nu- 
merous acquwntance, among whom I had the honor 
of ranking sundry persons of education, talents, and 
worth, scarcely here and there one or two could be 
tonnd who had the courage to associate with a man 
that had been hanged. 

Those few who did not desert me altogether were 
penons of strong but coarse minds; and from the 
absence of all delicacy in them, I suffered almost as 
mnch as from the auperabun dance ofa false species 
of it in the othera. Those who stuck by me were 
the jokera, who thought themselves entitled, by the 
lldelily which they bad shown towanls me, to use 
tne with what familiarity they pleased. Many and 
tuifeeling are the jests that I have suffered from 
tllete rude (because faithful) Achatesea. As they 
passed nte in the streets, one would nod rignifi- 



cantly to hia companion and say, pointing to mc. 
Snioiie hia cravat, and ask ine if 1 had got a wen, 
that I was so eolirilous to cover my neck. Another 
would inquire, What news from • ■ ■ Assizes)* 
(which you may guesa, Jlr. Alitor, waa the scene of 
my shame,) and wliether the scssioiia was like to 
prove a maiden one T A third would offer to ensure 
me from drowning. A fourth would teaze me with 
inquiries how I felt wheu I waaswingiiig. wlielbcr I 
had not eomething like a blue flame dancing be- 
fore my eves? A fifth took a fancy nrrvcr to call 
me any thing but Ltuarui. And an eminent book- 




tical period of 

to solicit a feit faiU relative tc 

the modesty to offer me — guini 

would write, in his Uagazine, i . . 

count of my feelings upon coming to myself. 

But these were evils which a moderate fortitude 
might have enabled me to struggle with. Alas! 
Ur. Kditor, the women, — whose good graces I bad 
always moat assiduously cultivated, from whose 
softer minds I had hoped a more deUcate and gen- 
erous sympathy than I found in the men, — the wo- 
men began to shun me. This was the unkindest 
blow of all. 

But ia il to be wondered alf How couldat thoo 
imagine, wrelchedcst of heinga, that that tender 
creature Sersphina would fling her pretty arma 
about that neck which previoi 



the rcfusi 
Or that Bi . 
which binds 



718 



ON THE lNCX)NyENIRNCE8 RESULTINa FROM BEING HANGED. 



I can for^ve that pert baggage Flirtilla, who, 
when I complimented her one day on the execution 
which her eyes had done, replied, that, to be sure, 
Mr. * * was a judge of those things. But from 
thy more exalted mind, Celestina, 1 expected a 
more unprejudiced decision. 

The person whose true name I conceal under this 
appellation, of all the women that I was acquainted 
with, had the most manly turn of mind, which she 
had improved by reading and the best conversation. 
Her understanding was not more masculine than 
her manners and whole disposition were delicately 
and truly feminine. She was the daughter of an 
officer who had fallen in the service of his country, 
leaving his widow, and Celestina, an only child, 
with a fortune sufficient to set them above want, 
but not to enable them to Uvc in splendor. I had 
the mother^s permission to pay my addresses to the 
young lady, and Celestina seemed to approve of my 
suit. 

Often and often have I poured out my over- 
charged soul in the presence of Celestina, complain- 
ing of the hard and unfeeling prejudices of the 
world; and the sweet maid has again and again 
declared, that no irrational prejudice should hinder 
her from esteeming every man according to his 
intrinsic worth. Often has she repeated the con- 
solatory assurance, that she could never consider 
as essentially ignominious an accident^ which was 
indeed to be deprecated, but which might have hap- 
pened to the most innocent of mankind. Then 
would she set forth some illustrious example, which 
her reading easily furnished, of a Phocion or a 
Socrates unjustly condemned ; of a Raleigh or a Sir 
Thomas More, to whom late posterity had done 
justice ; and by soothing my fancy with some such 
agreeable parallel, she would make me almost to 
triumph in my disgrace, and convert my shame 
into glory. 

In such entertaining and instructive conversa- 
tions the time passed on, till I importunely urged 
the mistress of my affections to name a day for our 
union. To this she obligingly consented, and I 
thought myself the happiest of mankind. But how 
I was surprised one morning on the receipt of the 
following billet from my charmer : — 

Sir, — You must not impute it to levity, or to a 
worse failing, ingratitude, if, with anguish of heart, 
I feel myself compelled by irresistible arguments to 
recall a vow which I fear I made with too little 
consideration. I never can be yours. The reasons 
of my decision, which is final, are in my own breast, 
and you must everlastingly remain a stranger to 
them. Assure yourself that I can never cease to 
esteem you as I ought. 

Celestina. 

At the sight of this paper, I ran in frantic haste 
to Celestina^s lodgings, where I learned, to my in- 
finite mortification, that the mother and daughter 
were set off on a journey to a distant part of the 
country, to visit a relation, and were not expected 
to return in less than four months. 

Stunned by this blow, which left me without the 
courage to solicit an explanation by letter, even if 
I had known where they were, (for the particular 
address was industriously concealed from me,) I 
waited with impatience the termination of the 
period, in the vain hope that I might be permitted 
to have a chance of softening the harsh decision by 



a personal interview with Celestina after her return. 
But before three months were at an end, I learned 
from the newspapers that my beloved had — given 
her hand to another ! 

Heart-broken as I was, I was totally at a loss to 
account for the strange step which she had taken ; 
and it was not till some years after that I learned 
the true reason from a female relation of hers, to 
whom it seems Celestina had confessed in confi- 
dence, that it was no demerit of mine that had 
caused her to break off the match so abruptly, nor 
any preference which she might feel for any other 
person, for she preferred me (she was pleased to 
say) to all mankind ; but when she came to lay 
the matter closer to her heart, she found that she 
never should be able to bear the sight — (I give you 
her very words as they were detailed to me by her 
relation) — the sight of a man in a nightcap, who 
had appeared on a public platform — it would lead 
to such a disagreeable association of ideas I And 
to this punctilio I was sacrificed. 

To pass over an infinite series of minor mortifi' 
cations, to which this last and heaviest might well 
render me callous, behold me here, Mr. Editor! in 
the thirty-seventh year of my existence, (the twelfth, 
reckoning from my reanimation,) cut off from all 
respectable connections ; rejected by the fairer half 
of the community, — who in my case alone seem to 
have laid aside the characteristic pity of their sex ; 
punished because I was once punished unjustly; 
suffering for no other reason than because I once 
had the misfortune to suffer without any cause at 
all. In no other country, I think, but this, could a 
man have been subject to such a life-long i)er8ecu- 
tion, when once his innocence had been clearly 
established. 

Had I crawled forth a rescued victim from the 
rack, in the horrible dungeons of the Inquisition, — 
had I heaved myself up from a half bastinado in 
China, or been torn from the just-entering, ghastly 
impaling stake in Barbary, — ^had I dropt alive from 
the knout in Russia, or come off with a gashed 
neck from the half-mortal, scarce-in-time-retracted 
cimeter of an executioneering slave in Turkey, — ^I 
might have borne about the remnant of this frame 
(the mangled trophy of reprieved innocence) with 
credit to myself, in any of those barbarous coon- 
tries. No scorn, at least, would have mingled with 
the pity (small as it might be) with which what was 
left of me would have been surveyed. 

The singularity of my case has often led me to 
inquire into the reasons of the general levity with 
which the subject of hanging is treated as a topic 
in this country. I say, as a topic : for let the very 
persons who speak so lightly of the thing at a dift> 
tance be brought to view the real scene, — let the 
platform be bona fide exhibited, and the trembling 
culprit brought forth, — the case is changed ; but aa 
a topic of conversation, I appeal to the vulgar Jokea 
which pass current in every street. Bat why men* 
tion them, when the politest authors have agreed 
in making use of this subject as a source <n the 
ridiculous? Swift, and Pope, and Prior, are fond 
of recurring to it. Gay has built an entire drama 
upon this single ft)undation. The whole interest of 
the Beggars' Opera may be said to hang upon it. 
To such writers as Fielding and Smollett It is a per-> 
feet bcnne-bouche. — Hear the facetious Tom Brown, 
in his Comical View of Zondtm and Wuimindnr^ 
describe the Order of the Show ai one of the Tifbmm 
ExeaUioM in his time: — *'Mr. Ordinary HAXa hit 



OH IHK raOOMVENIENCES EE8ULTIKO PROU BEINO HANGED. 719 




melancliolt flock ia Xcwf^tr b; 
eiglit. l>ol«ful prot.-o9»ioii up 
Halbam-tiiU about eli^rin. Ui>n 
hsDdHiaio and proper lh«l were 
never thouphl so before, which 
u some L-omforl, bowi'ver. Ar- 
rive mt the fatal plus hj twelve. 
Bnrat brandy, women, and cab- 
bath-breakiog, rep«ntedor. Some 
few penilcQtial drops fall under 
ihe gallows. Sheriff's men, par- 
■oo. pickpookcta, criminaU, all 
very busy. Tbe last conclud- 
ing peremptory psalm stmek up. Show over by 
one." — In this sportive Htraiu doe* this misguided 
wit think proper to play with a suUjecl so eeriou^, 
which yet he would hardly hare done if he had not 
known tbst there existed u predispoaif 
habits ofhla unaccouutabte countrymen 
the subject as a jest. But what shall we say lo 
Shakipere, who, (not to mention the eolulion which 
the Graetdigger in Handel gives of his fcllow-work- 
nun'a problem,) In that scene in Mcaturefor Mrat- 
urt, where the Clovn calls upon Mailer Sarnardifie 
to get up and be hanged, which he declines on the 
score of being sleepy, has actually gone out of hia 
way to gratify this amiable propensity in his coun- 
trymen ; for it is plain, from the use that was to be 
made of his head, and from Abhor$on'i asking, " Is 
the aie upon the block, sirrah*" that beheading, 
not banging, was the punishment to which Barnar- 
diiu was destined. But Shakspere knew that the 
aie and block were pregnant with no ludicrous 
images, and therefore fakified the historic truth of 
hia own drama (if I may so speak), rather than he 
would leave out such excellent matter for a jest as 
the suspending of a fellow-creature in mid-sir has 
been ever esteemed to be by Englishmen. 

One reason why the ludicrous never fails to In- 
trude itself into our contemplations upon this mode 
of death, I supppse to be, the absurd posture into 
■bieh a man is thrown who is condemned to dance, 
•a the vulgar delight to eipress it, upon nothing. 
To Ke him whisking and wavering in the air. 

As ths wild yoD know will wsv* a mu ; ■ 
to behold the vacant carcass, from which the life is 
Mwly dislodged, shining between earth and heaven, 
llie sport of every gust; like a weathercock, sert- 
lug to show from which point the wind blows ; like 
• miukin, fit only to scare away birds; like a nest I 
Ut lo swing upon a bough when the bird is flown: 

* Blaronlmo, Id th* Spsslsb Tng«dy, 1 



these are uses to which we cannot without « mix- 
ture of spleen and contrmpt behold the human car- 
cass reduced. We string up dogs foies, bats, 
moles, weasels. Han surely deserves a steadier 

Another reason why the ludicrous asaociates more 
forcibly with this than with any other mode of pun- 
ishment, I cannot help thinking to be, the senseless 
costume with which old prescription hns thought 
(it to clothe the exit of malefactors In this country. 
Let a mnn do Khat he will to abstract from his 
imagination oil idea of the whimsical, something of 
it will come across him when he cunlcmplatca the 
figure of a fellow-creature in the day-time (in how- 
ever distressing a situation) in a iiiKht-cop. Whe- 
ther it be that this nocturnal addition has some- 
thing discordant with daylight, or that it ia the 
dress which we are seen in at those times when we 
are "seen," as Ihe Angel in Mihou eipresses it, 
'■ least wise," — this, I am afraid, will always be the 
case ; unless, indeed, as En my instance, some strODg 

Krsonal feeling overpower the ludicrous altogether. 
I me, when I reflect upon the train of misfortunes 
whicli have pursued men through life, owing to that 
accursed drapery, the cap presents ss purely fright- 
ful an object as the sleeveless yellow-coat and devil- 
painted mitre of the Sao Benitos. An ancestor of 
mine, who suffered for his loyalty in the time of 
the civil wars, was so sensible of the truth of what 
I am here advancing, that on the morning of 
execution, no entreaties could prevail upon him to 
submit 10 the odious dishabille, as he called it, but 
he inustcd upon wearing, and actually suffered in, 
the identical flowing periwig which he ia painted In, 
in the gallery belon^ng lo my uncle's seat in 

Ter me, Mr. Editor, before I quit the subject, 
to say a word or two respecting the minister of 
justice in this country ; in ploin words, I mean the 
tiangman. It has always appeared lo me that. In 
the mode of inflicUng capital punishments -wXlh ui, 



720 



▲ TAXEWELL TO TOBAOOO. 



there ia too much of the ministry of the human 
hand. The guillotine, as performing its functions 
more of itself, and sparing human agency, though a 
cruel and disgusting exhibition, in my mind, has 
many ways the advantage over our way. In bc> 
heacUng, indeed, as it was formerly practised in 
England, and in whipping to death, as is sometimes 
practised now, the hand of man is no doubt suffi> 
ciently busy ; but there is something less repugnant 
in these downright blows than in the officious bar- 
ber-like ministerings of the other. To have a fellow 
with his hangman^s hands fumbling about your 
collar, acljusting the thing as your valet would reg- 
ulate your cravat, valuing himself on hia menial 

dexterity 

I never shall forget meeting my rascal, — I mean 
the fellow who officiated for me, — in Iiondon last 



winter. I think I see him now, — in a waistcoat 
that had been mine, — smirking ailong as he knew 
me 

In some parts of Germany, that fellow^s office la 
by law declared infamous, and his posterity incapa- 
ble of being ennobled. They have hereditary 
hangmen, or had, at least, in the same manner as 
they had hereditary other great officers of state; 
and the hangmen's families of two adjoining par- 
ishes intermarried with each other, to keep the 
breed entire. I wish something of the same kiud 
were established in England. 

But it is time to quit a subject which teems with 
dlMgreeable images 

Permit me to subscribe myself, Mr. Editor, 

Your unfortunate friend, 

PENSILIS. 



••• 



A FAREWELL TO TOBACCO, 

ET CHAELKS LAMB. (XLIA.) 



Mat the dabylonish curse 

Strait confound my stammering verse, 

If I can a passage see 

In this word — perplexity. 

Or a fit expression find, 

Or a language to my mind, 

(Still the phrase is wide or scant) 

To take leave of thee, great plant ! 

Or in any terms relate 

Half my love, or half my hate ; 

For I hate, yet love, thee so. 

That, whichever thing I show, 

The plain truth will seem to be 

A constrainM hyperbole. 

And the passion to proceed 

More from a mistress than a weed. 



Sooty retainer to the vine, 

Bacchus* black servant, negro fine ; 

Sorcerer, that mak'st us dote upon 

Thy begrimed complexion : 

And, for thy pernicious sake. 

More and greater oaths to break. 

Than reclaimed lovers take 

'Gainst women : thou thy siege dost lay 

Much too in the female way, 

While thou suck'st the labVing breath 

Faster than kisses or than death. 



Thou in such a cloud dost bind us, 

That our worst foes cannot find U8, 

And ill fortune, that would thwart us. 

Shoots at rovers shootuig at us ; 

While each man, through thy heightening steam, 

Docs like a smoking Etna seem. 

And all about us docs express 

(Fancy and wit in richest dress) 

A Sicilian firuitfulness. 



Thou through such a mist dost show us. 
That our best friends do not know us, 
And for those allowed features, 
Due to reasonable creatures, 



Liken'st us to fell Chimeras, 
Monsters that, who see us, fear us ; 
Worse than Cerberus or Geryon, 
Or, who first loved a cloud, Ixion. 



Bacchus we know, and we allow 
His tipsy rites. But what art thou, 
That but by refiex canst show 
What his deity can do. 
As the false Egyptian spell 
Aped the true Hebrew miracle ? 
Some few vapors thou may*st raise. 
The weak brain may serve to amaze, 
But to the reins and nobler heart 
Canst nor life nor heat impart. 



Brother of Bacchus, later bom. 
The old world was sure forlorn, 
Wanting thee, that aidest more 
The goas victories than before 
All his panthers, and the brawls 
Of his piping Bacchanals. 
These, as stade, we disallow. 
Or judge of thee meant : only thou 
His true Indian conquest art ; 
And, for ivy round his dart. 
The reformed god now weaves 
A finer thyrsus of thy leaves. 



Scent to match thy rich perfume 
Chemic art did ne*er presume 
Through her quaint alembic strain. 
None so sovereign to the brain. 
Nature, that did in thee exceU 
Framed again no second amelL 
Roses, violets, but toys 
For the smaller sort of boys, 
Or for greener damsels meant ; 
Thou art the only manly scent. 



Stinkingest of the stinking Idnd, 

Filth of the mouth and fog of the mind, 



THB Wrr AKD HmCOB OF 0HABLE8 LAHB. 



721 



that brags her foyson, 
DO such prodigous poison, 
le, nightshade, both togetheri 
tk, aconite 

Nay, rather, 
ivine, of rarest virtue ; 
I on the tongue would hurt you. 
»at in a sort I bUmed thee ; 
'er prosperM who defamed thee ; 
U, and leignM abuse, 
I perplext lovers use, 
ted, when, in despair 
it forth their fairest fair, 
art but tu express 
Lceeding comeliness 
their fancies doth so strike, 
orrow language of dislike ; 
latead of Dearest Miss, 
Honey, Sweetheart, Bliss, 
ose forms of old admiring, 
r Cockatrice and Siren, 
; and all that^s evil. 
Hyena, Mermaid, Devil, 
Wench, and Blackamoor, 
r. Ape, and tw<enty more ; 
y Trait'ress, loving Foe,— 
it she is truly so, 
other way they know 
mtment to express, 
I 80 upon excess, 
ey do not rightly wot 
sr it be pain or not. 

nen, constrained to part 
hat*a nearest to their heart. 



While their sorrow's at the height, 
Lose discrimination quite. 
And their hasty wrath let fall. 
To appease their frantic gall. 
On the darling thing whatever. 
Whence they feel it death to sever, 
Though it be, as they, perforce. 
Guiltless of the sad divorce. 



For I most (nor let it ffrieTe thee. 

Friendliest of plants, that I must) leaTe thee ; 

For thy sake, tobacco, I 

Would do any thing but die. 

And but seek to extend my days 

Long enough to sing thy praise. 

But, as she, who once hath been 

A king's consort, is a queen 

Ever after, nor will bate 

Any title of her state. 

Though a widow, or divorced. 

So I, from thy converse forced, 

The old name and style retain, 

A right Katherine of Spain ; 

And a seat, too, *mongst the joys 

Of the blest Tobacco Boys ; 

Where, though I, by sour phydcian. 

Am debarred the fuU fruition 

Of thy favors, I may catch 

Some coUatend sweets, and snatch 

Sidelong odors, that give life 

Like glances from a neighbor's wife ; 

And still live in the bye-places 

And the suburbs of thy graces ; 

And in thy borders take delight. 

An unconqner'd Caoaanite. 



-•♦♦- 



THE WIT AND HUMOR OF CHARLES LAMB. 



I in 1799, went to Germany, and left 

nb, that if he wished any information 

iect, he might apply to him, («. e. by 

[jamb sent him the following abstruse 

I, to which, however, Coleridge did not 

inswer." 

God loves a lying angel better than a 

the archangel Uriel could knowingly 
ntnith, and whether, if he could^ he 

the higher order of seraphim illuminati 

an immortal and amenable soul may 
be damned cU last^ and the man never 
^forehand ? 

-What a dislocation of comfort is im- 
; word moving ! Such a heap of little, 
B, after you think all is got into the 
redging boxes, worn-out trunks, galli- 
things that it is impossible the most 
person can ever want, but which wo- 
reside on these occasions, will not leave 
was to save your soul ; theyM keep the 
utes, to stow in dirty pipes and broken 
show their economy. They can find 
want for many days after you get into 
igings. You must comb your hair with 
I, wash your hands without soap, go 
7 gaiters. 



Thb Pleasurbs or London. — Streets, streets, 
streets, markets, theatres, churches, Covent Gar* 
dens ; shops sparkling with pretty fitces of indns* 
trious milliners, neat seamstresses, ladies cheapen- 
ing, gentlemen behind counters lying, authors in 
the streets with spectacles (you may know them by 
their gait), lamps lighted at night, pastry-cook and 
silversmiths* shops, beautiful Quakers of Pentonville, 
noise of coaches, dreary cry of mechanic watchmen 
by night, with bucks reeling home drunk ; if you 
happen to wake at midnight, cries of fire and stop 
thief; Inns of Court, with their learned air, and 
stalls and butteries just like Cambridge Colleges; 
old book stalls, "Jeremy Taylors," "Burtons on 
Melancholy,** and " Religio Medici,** on every stidl. 
These are thy pleasures, London ! 

Nothing to no. — ^Positively, the best thing a man 
can have to do is nothing, and, next to that^ per- 
haps, good works. 

Brandt-and-Water. — Of this mixture, Charles 
Lamb said it spoiled two good things. 

Misers. — ^The passion for wealth has worn out 
much of its grossncss by track of time. Our an- 
cestors certainly conceived of money as able to 
confer a distinct gratification in itself, not alone 
considered simply as a symbol of wealth. The 
oldest poets, when they introduce a miser, constant- 
ly make him address his gold as liis mistress ; as 



722 



THE wrr Ain) humor of chables lamb. 



something to be seen, felt, and hugged ; aa capable 
of satisfying two of the senses at least. The sub- 
stitution of a thin, unsatisfying medium for the 
food old tangible gold, has made avarice quite a 
latonic affection in comparison with the seeing, 
touching, and humbling pleasures of the old Chry- 
sophilities. A bank-note can no more satisfy the 
touch of a true sensualist in this passion, than Creusa 
could return her husband^s embrace in the shades. 
A miser is sometimes a grand personification of 
Fear. He has a fine horror of Poverty ; and he is 
not content to keep Want from the door, or at 
arm's length — ^but be places it, by heaping wealth 
upon wealth, at a sMinie distafice. 

Presents. — If presents be not the soul of friend- 
ship, doubtless they are the most spiritual part of 
the bodv in that intercourse. There is too much 
narrowness of thinking on this point. The punc- 
tilio of acceptance, methinks, iu too confined and 
straitened. I should be content to receive money, 
or clothes, or a joint of meat from a friend. Why 
should he not send me a dinner as well as a dessert ? 
I would taste him in the beasts of the field, and 
through all creation. 

Cannibals. — ^Lamb writes to his friend Manning, 
to dissuade him from going to China, and endeavors 
to instil the fear of cannibals into his mind: *'Some 
say the Tartars arc cannibals, and then conceive a 
fellow eathiff my friend, and adding the cool malig- 
nity of mustard and vinegar.^' 

The best kind of Acid. — Martin Bumoy was 
one day explaining the three kinds of acid, very 
lengthily^ to Charles Lamb, when the latter i*topped 
him by saying: **The best of all kind of acid, how- 
«jver, as you know, Martin, is uity — ^assiduity." 

Dirty Hands. — Lamb once said to a brother 
whist player, Martin Burney, whose hands were 
none of the cleanest, " Martin, if dirt was trumps, 
what a hand youM have.** 

Good Actions. — ^The greatest pleasure I know, 
is to do a good action by stealth, and to have it 
found out by accident. 

Paying for things. — One cannot bear to pay 
for articles he used to get for nothing. When 
Adam laid out his first penny upon nonpareils at 
some stall in Mesopotamia, I think it went hard 
with him, reflecting upon his old goodly orchard, 
where he had so many for nothing. 

Sign for a School. — ^A widow friend of Lamb, 
having opened a preparatory school for children, at 
Camden Town, said to him, "I Hve so far from 
town I must have a sign, I think you call it, to show 
that I teach children." " Well," he replied, " you 
can have nothing better than * 7^ Murder of the 
Innocents.^ " 

A Sharp Set. — ^The Sexton of Salisbury Cathe- 
dral, was telling Lamb, that eight persons had 
dined together upon the top of the spire; upon 
which he remarked, that ** They must have been 
sharp set." 



Punning Translation. — Coleridge's motto, '' «r* 
mont proprioria^'" waa translated by Lamb, aa *''■ pro- 
perer for a sermon." 

Hood says that Lamb nerer affected any Bpurions 
gravity. Neither did he ever act the Grand Senior. 
He did not exact that common copy-book respect, 
which some asinine persons would fain command, 
on account of the mere length of their years ; as 
if forsooth, what is bad in itself, could be the bet- 
ter fur keeping; as if intellects already motkery, 
got any thing but ffrand-mothery by lapse of time! 

A Cold. — "Do you know what it iaf asked 
Lamb of Bernard Barton, describing his own state, 
" to succumb under an insurmountable daytnare— 
* a whoreson lethargy,* Falstaff calls it — an indispo- 
sition to do any thing, or to be any thing — a total 
deadness and distaste — a suspension of vitality — an 
indiflTcrence to locality — a numb soporifical good- 
for-nothingness — an ossification all over — an oyster- 
like indiflercnce to passing events — a mind-stupor 
— a brawny defiance to the needles of a thrusting- 
in conscience — with a total irresolution to submit 
to water-gruel processes?" 

Boiled Mutton. — A farmer, Charles Lamb's 
chance companion in a coach, kept boring him to 
death with questions as to the state of the crops. 
At length he put a poser — ** And pray, sir, how go 
turnips?" '* Why, that, sir (stammered out Lamb), 
will depend upon the boiled legs of mutton." 

Making both Ends Meet. — ^Whilc Lamb was 
clerk at the India House, he used his own pleasure 
in observing the hours of attendance. The other 
officials grumbled, and one of the heads of the 
establishment undertook to lecture the erring Elia. 
" Mr. Lamb, you come very late every morning.'* 
** I do, sir," said Lamb, *^ but I make up for it by 
going away very early every aflemoon.*' 

"Charles,^ said Coleridge, one day, to Lamb, 
" did you ever hear me preach ?" *' I never heard 
you do any thing else," said Lamb. 

On a cold and drixxling day, a mendicant fiured 
Lamb in the street with an appealing look and out- 
stretched hand. *^ I have seen better days,** said 
the beggar, in a whiidng tone. ** So have I," said 
Lamb, shrugging his shoulders, and buttoning up 
his coat. "This is a very bad day, indeed." 

Lamb was reserved amongst- strangen. His 

friend T , about to introduce him to a circle of 

new faces, said, ** Now wiUyou promiie, Lamb, not 
to be as theepish as usual?" Charles reidied, with 
a rustic air, ** 1 1000/." 

On Puns. — '* A pun," said Lamb In a ktter to 
Coleridge, in which he eulogised the Odes and ad- 
dresses of his friends Hood and Reynolds, " is a thing 
of too much consequence to be thrown in as a 
make-weight. You shall read one of the addresses 
twice over and miss the puns, and it shall be quite 
as good, or better, than when you discover them. 
A pun is a noble thing per ee, O nerer bring it in 
as an accessary. A pun is a sole digest of reflec- 
tion ; it is entire ; it fills the mind ;' it is as perfect 
as a sonnet ; better. It Umps ashamed in the trab 
and retinue of humor— it knows it should haTS an 
establishment of its own. 



TUE BON-TlVANT. 



THE BON-VrVANT. 



Wi hftd iavited Polus to dine with us, uid now 
condoled with him on hia loea of appetite. * ■ 

BUtga brought in ■□ ewer of water, with several 
napkins. The; were not lost upon Polus, and be de- 
clared that those two boya had more sagacity and 
Intuition than all the people in Ibe Ibealre. ■ ■ ■ 

Soi^r waa aerred. 

" A quail, best Polua." 

"A quail, wonderful! tuaj h'lrt me ; but being 
recommended—" 

It disappeared. 

" The breast of that capon — " 

■'Capona, being melancholic, breed melancholy 
within." 

"Coriander-seed might correct it. together with 
a few of those while plump pine-seeds." 

"The Terj dedderatum." 

It was corrected. 

" Tunny nndcr oil, with maijoram and figs, 
pickled locusts, and [ustachios — for your stomacli 
seems delicate." 



The field wM won ; nothing was left open it. 

Another slave came forward, announcing loadJy 
and poDipously, " (iosling from Brauron! Sauce, 
pruneB, niustard-sced, capere, feuugreek, sesamunk, 
and squills." 

"Squills!" exclaimed Polus, "they soolbe tba 
chest. It is not every cook that i.f deep in the 
secrets of nature. Brauronl an ancient city: I 
have friends in Brauron; I nill taste were it only 
for remeiTibmiice of them." 

He made seieml issais, sererat pauses 

"But when shall He come to the ^tquilla?" said 
he, turning to the slave, the qualities of the 
otbera are negative 

The nholt dish was presently 

"Our paKtrv said 1 U illustrious Potus' is the 
only thing I can \cnture lo recommend at tabtei 
Ihc ollur disbea are merely on s ufle ranee ; but, 
really our pastry is good I u-iuailj diue entirely 

"Entirely, cned he, in amaze 




"Akal Indeed it !■ decUnlnit. Tunny! tunny t 
1 dare not, O teMoon of the GracesI 1 dare not 
vnfly. Chlan wine aloDB can appeaw its seditions," 

Tmj were appeased. 

Some Hrera were offered bim, whether of fish or 
fowl, I know oot, for I can haidly boar to look at 
that diah. He wared them away, but turned eud- 
denlr rottitd, and said, "Youth! I think I smell 
bnneL" 

"Ttwn is l^ael, mighty one!" replied the 
«kT«, "and not funnel only, but parsley and honey, 
pepper and laaenwry, garlic from Salamis, and — " 

Say BO more. My no more ; fennel is enough 
far BOdento nan, and brare ones, h remiDda me 
ifllMMdoriUntlioB." 



"With a glass of water," added I, "and some 
grapes, frenh or dry." 

"To accompany you, divine Aapasin! though 
in good truth this said pastry in but a sandy sort of 
road; no great way can be made in it." 

The diffident Polus wfLS not a bad engineer how- 
ever, and he soon had an opportunity of admiring 
the worlimanship at the bottom of the salver. 

Two dishes of roast meat were carried to him. I 
know not what one was, nor could Polus make Up 
hla mind upon it : experiment following eiperiment. 
Kid, however, was an old acqusiniance. 

" Those who kill Lids," said he, " deserve well of 
their country, for they grow up mischievous: the 
Gods, aware of this, make tbem very eatable. They 



724 



A CHAPTER 'ON OLD 00AT8. 



require some management, some skill, some reflec- 
tion : mint, shalot, dandelion, vinegar : strong co- 
ercion upon *em. Chian wine, boy ! " 

"What does Pericles eat?" 

**Do not mind Pericles. He has eaten of the 
quails, and some roast fish, besprinkled with dried 
bay-leaves for sauce." 

** Fish ! ay, that makes him so vigilant. Cats — * 

Here he stopt, not however without a diversion 
fai his favor from me, observing that he usually 
dined on vegetables, fish, and some bird : that his 
earlier meal was his longest, confectionery, honey, 
and white bread composing it. 

"Chian or Lesbian?" 

** He enjoys a little wine after dinner, preferring 
the lighter and subacid." 

"Wonderful man!" cried he; "and all from 
such fare as that I " 

Another exquisite letter, again in a different 
strain: 

" Thanks for the verses ! I hope Leuconoe was 
as grateful as I am, and as sensible to their power 
of soothing. 

" Thanks too for the perfumes ! Pericles is 
.ashamed of acknowledging he is fond of them ; but 



I am resolved to betray one secret of his : I have 
caught him several times frying them as he called il 

" How many things are there that people pretend 
to dislike, without any reason, as far as we know, 
for the dislike or the pretence I 

" I love sweet odors. Surely my Cleone henelf 
must have breathed her very soul into these I Let 
me smell again : let me inhale them into the sanc- 
tuary of my breast, lighted up by her love for their 
reception. 

" But, ah, Cleone I what an hnportunate and ex- 
acting creature is Aspasia ! Have you no willows 
fresh-peeled ? none lying upon the banks for bas- 
kets, white, rounded, and delicate as your fingers! 
How very fragrant they were formerly! I have 
seen none lately. Do you remember the cross okd. 
Hermesionax ? how he ran to beat us for breaking 
his twigs? and how, after looking in our faces, he 
seated himself down again, finished his basket, dis- 
bursed from a goat-skin a corroded clod of rancid 
cheese, put it in, pushed it to us, forced it under 
my arm, and told us to carry it home teith the Oodt! 
and lifted up both hands and blest us. 

" I do not wish thcU one exactly ; cheese is the 
cruellest of deaths to me, and Pericles abhora it.** 



-•♦♦- 



A CHAPTER ON OLD COATS. 



UfONTMOUB. 



I LOVE an old coat. By an old coat, I mean not 
'One of last summer's growth, on which the gloss 
yet lingers, shadowy, and intermittent, like a faint 
ray of sun-light on the counting-house desk or a 
clothier's warehouse in Eastcheap, but a real un- 
questionable antique, which for some five or six 
years has withstood the combined assaults of sun, 
dust, and rain, has lost all pretensions to starch, un- 
social formality, and gives the shoulders assurance 
of ease, and the waist of a holiday. Such a coat is 
my delight. It presents itself to my mind^s eye, 
mixed up with a thousand varying recollections, 
and not only shadows forth the figures, but recalls 
the very faces, even to the particular expression of 
eye, brow, or lip, of friends over whom the waters 
of oblivion have long since rolled. This, you will 
say, is strange. Granted ; but mark how I deduce 
my analogy! 

In that repository of wit, learning, and sarcasm, 
the "Tale of a Tub," Swift pertinently remarks, 
that in forming an estimate of an individual's trade 
or profession, one should look to his dress. The 
man himself is nothing : his apparel is the distin- 
guishing characteristic; the outward and visible 
sign of his inward and spiritual grace. What, adds 
the satirist, is a lawyer, but a black wig and gown, 
hung upon an animated peg, like a barber's caxon 
on a block? What, a judge, but an apt conjunc- 
tion of scarlet and white ermine, thrown over a 
similar peg, a little stouter, perhaps, and stuck on 
a bench ? What, a dandy, but a pair of tight per- 
suasives to corns and gentility, exuberant panta- 
loons, and unimpeachable coat and hat, trimly ap- 
pended to a moving stick, from a yard and a half, to 
two yards high, grown in Bond-street, and cut down 
in the fulness of time in the King's Bench ? What, 
a lord mayor, but a gold chain stuck round the neck 
of a plump occupier of space ? What, a physician, but 
a black gilt-headed cane, thrust with professional 



gravitv, under the snout of an embodied " Memento 
Mori? What, an alderman, but a furred gown 
and white napkin stuck beneath the triple chin of a 
polypetalous personification of dyspepsia? — Caxon 
the barber held opinions simiUr to these. " Pray, 
sir," said he to the antiquary, " do not venture near 
the sands to-night ; for when you are dead and eone 
there will be only three aigt left in the village!"* 

If then we look to the dress— of which the coat, 
of course, forms the chief feature — as the criterion 
of a man, it is logically manifest, that the appear- 
ance of certain coats will renew the recollection of 
certain individuals; or suppose we substitute the 
word "coat" for "man," and it will be equaDy 
manifest that a certain coat is bona Jide a certain 
man. Now, whenever I see an old coat, brown, 
rusty, and long-waisted, with the dim metal buttons 
at the back sewed on so far apart, that if a short- 
sighted man were to stand upon the one, he could 
scarcely, according to the ordinary laws of proba- 
bility, see over to the other ; I imagine, on Swift's 
principle, that I see my fat city friend, Tiros, who 
died of a lord mayor's feast, ten years since come 
Martinmas. In like manner, whenever I behold a 
gaunt, attenuated, blue surtout, so perfectly old- 
fashioned in shape, that I should hardly be justified 
in making an affidavit before Sir Richard Birnie, 
that, to the best of my belief, it was younger than 
the Temple of the Sun at Palmyra ; I think that I 
behold my ancient college-chum, Dickson — the 
cream of bachelors — the pink of politeness — the 
most agreeable of tipplers, who expired last year 
of vexation, the necessary consequence of his hav- 
ing been married a full fortnight to a blue-stocking. 
Peace to his ashes — ^he always spoke respectfully of 
whisky-punch ! 

Old coats are the indices by which a man's pecu- 

• Vidt Sir Walter SeotVs novel of The Aatiqiiary, YoL L 



A THOUSAND TBABS AGO. 



725 



fiar turn of mind may be pointed out. So tena- 
ciously do I hold this opinion, that, in posaing down 
i crowded thoroughfare, the Strand, for instance, I 
would wager odds, that in seven out of ten cases, I 
would tell a 8tranger*8 character and calling by the 
mere cut of his every-day coat. Who can mistake 
the staid, formal gravity of the orthodox divine, in 
the corresponding weight, fulness, and healthy con- 
dition of his familiar, easy-natured flaps? Who 
sees not the necessities — the habitual eccentricities 
of the poet, significantly developed in his two hag- 
gard, shapeless old apolo^es for skirts, original in 
their genius as ** Christabel,'* uncouth in their build 
ss the New Palace at Pimlico ? Who can misappre- 
hend the motion of the spirit, as it slily flutters be- 
neath the quaker*s drab ? Thus, too, the sable hue 
of the lawyer*8 working coat corresponds most con- 
vincingly with the color of his conscience ; while 
his thrift, dandyism, and close attention at appear- 
ances, tells their own tale in the half-pay officer^s 
smart but somewhat faded exterior. 

No lover of independence ventures voluntarily on 
a new coat. This is an axiom not to be overturn- 
ed, unlike the safety stage-coaches. The man who 
piques himself on the newness of such an habili- 
ment, is — till time hath ** moulded it into beauty" 
— its slave. Wherever he goes, he is harassed by 
an apprehension of damaging it. Hence he loses 
his sense of independence, and becomes — a Serf! 
How degrading I To succumb to one's superiors is 
bad enough ; but to be the martyr of a few yards of 
cloth ; to be the Helot of a tight fit ; to be shackled 
by the ninth fraction of a man ; to be made submis- 
sive to the sun, the dust, the rain, and the snow ; 
to be panic-stricken by the chimney sweep ; to be 
scared by the dust-man ; to shudder at the advent 
of the baker ; to give precedence to the scavenger ; 
to concede the wall to a peripatetic conveyancer of 
^gg" ; to palpitate at the irregular sallies of a mer- 
corial cart-horse ; to look up with awe at the appa- 
rition of a giggling servant-girl, with a slop-pail 
thmst half-way ont of a garret-window ; to coast a 
gatter with a horrible anticipation of consequences ; 
to ftint at the visitation of a shower of soot down 
the chimney ; to be compelled to be at the mercy 
of each and lUl of these vUe contingencies ! can any 
thing in human nature be so preposterous, so effemi- 
nate, so disgracef\il? A tnily great mind spurns 
the bare idea of such slavery ; hence, according to 
the " Subaltern," Wellington liberated Spain in a 
red coat, extravagantly over-estimated at sixpence, 
and Napoleon entered Moscow in a green one out 
at the elbows. 

An old coat is the aptest possible symbol of 
sociality. An old shoe is not to be despised ; an 
old hat, provided it has a crown, is not amiss ; none 
bat a cynic would speak irreverently of an old slip- 



per ; but were I called upon to put forward the most 
unique impersonation of comfort, I should give a 
plumper in favor of an old coat. The very mention 
of this luxury conjures up a thousand images of en- 
joyment. It speaks of warm fire-sides, —long flow- 
ing curtains — a downy arm-chair — a nicely trim- 
med lamp— a black cat fast asleep on the hearth- 
rug — a bottle of old Port (vintage 1812) — a snuff- 
box — a cigar — a Scotch novel — and, above all, a 
social indei)cndent, unembarrassed attitude. With 
a new coat, this last blessing is unattainable. Im- 
prisoned in this detestable tunic— oh, how unlike 
the flowing toga of the ancients! — we are perpet- 
ually haunted with a consciousness of the necessi- 
ties of our condition. A sudden pinch in the waist 
dispels a philosophic reverie ; another in the elbow 
w^ithdraws us from the contemplation of the poet to 
the recollection of the tailor; Snip's goose van- 
quishes Anacreon's dove; while, as regards our 
position, to lean forward is inconvenient ; to lean 
backward extravagant ; to lean sideways impossible. 
The great secret of happiness is the ability to merge 
self in the contemplation of nobler objects. This a 
new coat, as I have jui<t now hinted, forbids. It 
keeps incessantly intruding itself on our attention. 
While it flatters our sense of the becoming, it com- 
prises our freedom of thought. While it insinuates 
that we are the idol of a ball-room, it neutralizes 
the compliment by a high-pressure power on the 
short ribs. It bids us be easy, at the expense of 
respiration ; comfortable, with elbows on the rack. 
There is yet another light in which old coats 
may be viewed ; I mean as chroniclers of the past, 
as vouchers to particular events. Agesilaus, King 
of Sparta, always dated from his last new dress. 
Following in the wake of so illustrious a precedent, 
I date from my last (save one) new coat, which was 
ushered into being during the memorable period of 
the Queen^s trial. Do I remember that epoch from 
the agitation it called forth? From the loyalty, 
the radicalism, the wisdom, and the folly it quick- 
ened into life ? — ^Assuredly not. I gained nothing 
by the wisdom. I lost as much by the folly. I was 
neither the better nor the worse for the agitation* 
Why, then, do I still remember that period ? simply 
and selfishly from the circumstance of its having 
occasioned the dismemberment — most calamitous 
to a poor annuitant ! — of the very coat in which I 
have the honor of addressing this essay to the pub- 
lic. In an olfactory crowd, whom her majesty *s 
wrongs had congregated at Hammersmith, my now 
invalid habiliment was transformed after the man- 
ner of an Ovidian metamorphosis, where the change 
is usually from the better to the worse, from a coat 
into a spencer. In a word, some adroit conveyancer 
eloped with the hinder flaps, and, by so doing, se- 
cured a snuff-box which played two waits tunes. 



•♦• 



A THOUSAND YEARS AGO. 

BT B. W. PROCTOR (bARRY CORNWALL). 



BiAiTTiKS I there is nothing new 
Ti'eath the changing moon : 

Maids are fickle, men are true. 
And are vanquished soon ! 

It was so— (was it not so ?) 
A thouscnd thousand years ago I 

Gold is still the king of kings ; 

Life is still too brief; 
Lore hath itiU hit little wings, 

47 



And is still a thief I 

It was so— (was it not so ?) 

A thousand thousand years ago ! 

Beauties, help us to a change ; 

Teach us (simple elves !) 
A little art, and how to range. 

But ^be true, yourselvet 

This may be, though 'twas not so 

A thousand thousand years ago. 



PICTORIAI. HUKOB. 



FICTOBIAL HUHOB. 



-'i^ 





BHAKSFEBE A LITTLE ALTERED. 

"Be lived not wlwl;, but too weH" 



THE BUH'BOAT WOMAK. 



BUM-BOAT WOMAN. 

T OrtAXa QLABCOCC, B. N. 



m the luval ear, 
excepting the 
Iniag cry of 
lemy In right," 
iwUchumouDce 
ring of Bum-boat 
■ paUiiig-oir of 
1 Poll, or ths 
■lODgade of 
[ Eater* Not 
I would pay ID 
oompUment to 
ft, aa to place in 
I tlie friend with 
of the Seel; but 



awiU D 



Et, ay, 




the teeth of the 
alllematicalsaii. 

true that In 
I't TolaminouB 
lie word "Bum- 
u permitted to 

of the Bubstan- 
iag niBde " to 
by Itself"— the 
aan to Boat on 
bottom, to Bwlni 
itted and freieht- 
I lexicographer, 
Oon of m pbWo- 
mle, eihibita it 
d-np Ducommig- 
craft, curtailed 
air proportions, 
for supporter! two luch undghtly and anti- 
i thinea ai a " Bum-bBillff," and " a Bump." f 
vaa the " bump of order," when the doctor 
oune to such unconRenial juitaponilloa f 
Qg other etymological matters, diwuBsed 
itrong Fsor-weHler in the larboard fore-cock- 
[n, Flpes, the boalawiin, who wu a matt of 
(for a better A. B. was not borne on the 
if any of his Hajesly'a ships), would have set 
leographer right as to ibe due derivation of 
le attached to the subject of our present 
In Mb usnal familiar and flowing strain, 
le thna ha^e enlightened his plodding com- 
: — "Se« here, old boy, as regards what you 
« denywatiOD o' the vord, but what /calls 
Itf'Din' o' the craft; yerinitt like ail the rest 
bore-going tribe — and that's preciously out 
reak*iiln' — for you see Ihai wam't her firil 
«he went by a name of another natur ; and, 
WB, as there's nolhia' more nat'ral nor to 
name nearest to the natur of the thins in 
fhy, in course, as she never brought nolliin' 
bnt bons, the craft was never no more nor a 
Milt Bun-boat Woman. But you see, old 
n, aa the peoide a&oat soon gets tired of 
»d wanted more substontialer etuff; buns no 
■aa brought aboard. So when they begins 

■ C^bnl*d Bnm'boit bnatlcs. 



to bring offsogen,* UMiogera, aoll-tack, beer, but- 
ter, Boap, eggs, pipes, [ogtail, and such like sarrice- 
able stuff, why, in cour«e, 'twta no easy matter to 
fix upon a name aa would suit eTery article taken 
on tick: and, as men-o'-war's-men, ye know, never 
do things hand over band, in a hurry, but always 
likes Grst to fill their way, why, they thinks they 
cou'dn't do better nor go grad'ally to work, — throw 
the \ out of the name, taking the H as next above 
in lieu. By this, you know, they couldn't make 
matters worse, whilei, on the tother tack, tbey waa 
sarvin' the aa sarved the fieet, by giving the craft a 
hiffher letter at Lloyd's.f Bo you see, old boy, 
they turns it end for end, and converts Bun-boat 
Woman Into fum-boat Woman; and, after all, 
take it by or large, it's a belter name — it sounds 
more ship-shape— Jess mincing — leas youne-ledyish 
— and eartinlj, a rounder and fuller moulhru! in a 
seaman's mouth. There jou has it, Doctor, short 
and sweet — yov has it as /had It." And the Doe- 
tor would have had it, aa we had it in our youth, 
years ago. But with derivation a truce. Proceed 
we with our sketch. We take as a sitter a sisl«r 
from the Sstcr Isle. 

Header, permit us to introduce to your ftvorable 



•The 1 



a designate r«d 



728 



THB BUM-BOAT WOMAK. 



notice and special protection, ** Mother DonoTan,** 
of the Cove of Cork^ — part owner (for the pig in 
the parlor pays the rint) of a much-frequented mud 
edifice located in the East Holy Ground, a patch of 
Paradise attached to the Great Island, and immedi- 
ately facing the Spit Sand and Isle of Spike. 

Well, we can now take her in all her glory, for at 
this moment a two-decker — a crack seventy-four 
gun ship — a stranger returning from a foreign sta- 
tion, possibly short of provisions, or short of water, 
is suddenly descried under a cloud of canvas, with 
a brisk breeze, a flood tide, and a flowing sheet, be- 
tween the towering heads of the harbor^s mouth. 
All Cove is already in a state of excitement. Chaos 
is come again. Milesian sounds startle the uniniti- 
ated ear, but the shriller tones of Mother Donovan 
onthowl every other hoveller, of cither Uoly Ground, 
east or west. 

** Oh ! murder, murder," she exclaims, " if here 
isn't a big baste of a man-o'-war, after comin* right 
into the Cove. Honor! Honor I be quick! — ^sack 
the praties, string the sassingers, and basket the 
batter. Tim, be stirrin* yer stumps — launch the 
whaler — where in the dickens is Paddy MoUoy? 
Couldn't he be killin* the ould gander? For the 
lives o' yees, don't be after lettin Mudder Murphy 
bate UB in gettin' the business aboord." 

Some score of bustling competitors are now 
heard cheering their Paddies, and hurrying their 
Honors (a name common in the south of IrcUnd) 
in the shipment of their marketable goods. Pots, 
pans, black jacks, red herrings, yellow soap, pails 
of sky-blue, and barrels of brown stout, are seen 
descending, or rather bundling, over the high and 
hangine cUffs, on their way to the boat on the beach. 
MoUier Donovan, who is a dame of double di- 
mensions — a sort of Lambert in petticoats — with 
Honor, her *^ nate niece " (for the mothers afloat, 
like the fathers of the land, beget nieces rather than 
daughters), seat themselves in the stern-sheets of a 
white whaler. Both are clad in brown cloaks, called 
** jocks," with huge hoods covering their unadorned 
heads — ^for bonnets are held in utter contempt by 
the fair of Cove. Honor is a bright brunette, with 
eyes of hazel hue, flashing fire at every glance ; hair 
black, glossy, and lank, like a skein of sable silk — 
with a face and figure (saving her feet) perfectly 
Spanish. And now, in the trying tug to fetch the 
ship already an<4iored, may be seen the opposing 
Paddies, and contending Tims, bending their broad 
backs to their huge unpliable sweeps (for oars they 
can hardly be called), sending the salt spray over 
the bows of their bounding boats, and drenching to 
the skin the fair sitters abaft. See how the brine 
stiffens the playful muscles of the mother's mouth, 
and still straightens the daughter's \ocka of love ! 
After a tiring tug against wind and tide, the white 
whaler reaches abreast of the towering liner, in all 
the busy bustle of furling sails, and of squaring 
▼ards. — ^There she is : the inner boat, lying off on 
ner oars. And now watch the ** sheeps-eyes," and 
imploring glances which Mother Donovan throws at 
the first-lieutenant, standing stiff as a steeple on the 
break of the poop, and who tries hard to preserve 
his official station, and maintain the gravity of his 
quarter-deck face. 

^ ** Honor, darlint ! Stand up foment him. Show 
him you mane to give him the news. Hould up, 
child, hould up, and show him the paper." 

Honor does as desired ; and standing erect in the 
boat, her dripping locks wafting in the wind, her 



anxious eyes following evei^ turn and tread of the 
first-lieutenant. At length, she catches his glance, 
and extending a bare arm of symmetrical mould, 
holds in her hand **The Cork Constitution, or 
Southern Reporter:" and now, in bewitching Ac- 
cents, she exclaims, ** Ah, now, that's a dear jintle- 
man— do, do, let us in — ah, now do — isn't it the 
day's paper I have here for ye? Ah, be marciful! 
— the saa's mighty salt! mighty tryin to the eyes!" 

The eyes of Honor are more trying to the first- 
lieutenant ; still, he assumes no show of favor or 
affection, and, in a commanding voice, he cries : — 
*^Kccp off that boat, master-at-arms; mind, no 
muslin aboard till the yards are square, and every 
rope taut as a harp-string." 

'* There's the raal gintleman — ^my blessin's wid 
ye," ejaculates the stout dame, implying by this 
loudly-delivered benediction— Erected to fdleuce 
the tiring entreaties of her trading opponents — that 
she is certain of ^^ sarving the ship :" — and so she is 
— for the word of admission is soon after given by 
the sentinel pacing his post. ** Up wid ve, child — 
quick ! — there's a darlint — and, mind ye (the cau- 
tion is loudly delivered), ** for the life o' ye, don't 
part wid de paper till ye place it in his honor's 
hands. — ^The Lord love him, and it's himself that if 
the raal gintilman." 

A tall topman jumps down the gangway steps, to 
lend Honor a hand in ascending the side of the 
lofty ship. Her top-lights dazzle the eyes of the 
tar, and all her upper works are suited to his taste ; 
but as the giggling girl places her foot on the first 
step (and the first atep often mars a match), the 
conductor breaks out: ** There we have it— all 
alike — fair above, and full below." 

" Ah now, mister sailor, lave off your ticklin* ; " 
(Jack's only playful — nothing more than freshening 
her way aloft); "fait, I'll be missin' my futtin', so I 
will." But no such thing : Honor arrives on the 
gangway ; — and now to undergo an overhaul from 
the master-at-arms. 

*■'• Nothing here^ I hope ? " says the searcher, suit* 
ing the action to the word. 

** Hands off, i' ye plasel " returns the indignant 
girl, keeping the master-at-arms at arm's length. 
'' It's yer betters that dam't do the likes o' that I 
It's thrue for me— who d'ye think ye got hould of?" 

The man of feeling relents, and the charmer is 
permitted to pass muster ; and next comes, panting 
and blowing like a lady-whale, the huge and un- 
wieldy owner of the stock-in-trade. A^r no little 
of exertion, she finds a footing on deck. She stops 
to regain her breath, — now throws her eyeis aloft,— 
now directs them on the deck, expressing, by dumb 
gesticulations, the greatest surprise. Her shoulders 
are up to her cars, and the elbows of her short arms 
are pinioned to her side, as she claps, with seeming 
delight, her small but fleshy hands. 

" Oh, murder ! murder ! what a bu-tee-ful sight 
it is ! Och, thin, isn*t she a terrible size intirely ! ** 
(she had seen many ships before of a amilar size :) 
** oh, by de book, a big man-o'-war bates every oder 
sight in nathur." 

** Strange sights are sometimes seen in nature,** 
says the official feeler, taking the fair Fatima in 
hand, and deliberately pursuing his system of 
search : any thing here f " 

" Is it game yer makin* of a body ? Sure, havn^ 
I got quite enough of my own ? Fait, mj good 
roan, there's nothin' there but raal, wholesome, soUd 
nathur." 



THE BUM-BOAT WOMAK. 



729 



'*Cui*t BtLj; canH always tniat to the loom o' 
natiir — Uclarij about the cat-heads : ^ and so saj- 
ing, the searcher satisfies himself as to the reality 
of the trader's natural capacities. As there is no- 
thing contraband traceable about her portly person, 
she descends the gangway ladder, following her 
marketable conmiodities, which are hardly placed 
between the two allotted guns on the main-deck, 
ere her baskets of bread, butter, eggs, sausages, ap- 
ples, together with her pails of mi£, are beset by 
shoals of the younger middies, watering at the 
mouth to taste ue sweets of the sod. An elbowing 
and scrambling scene ensues ; all are pushing for 
priority of purchase. 

** A^ now, asy wid ye,** ejaculates the portly pur- 
reyor, extending her short amis to preserve her 
eggs, and preyent, if possible, a crash of her crock- 
ery : ** BBj wid ye ; first money, /r«t sarved — ^that's 
the way we sanres the young gintry afloat.'* 

The young gentry afloat are no sooner " sarred," 
than a missive from the ward-room simimonses the 
presence of the Udies abaft. 

** Who, d*ye say, my good boy, does be wantin* 
the Bum-boat Woman ? '" 

This interrogation, delivered in accents mild as 
milk, is put to a young urchin, who pertly replies, 
**The First Leaftennant.** 

"Honor I Honor! — the Lord save us! where's 
the child got to ? Honor !** again calls the startled 
dame, looking around for her lost lamb. 

** Here am /, mudder — aunt I mean ;" (for some- 
times the outbursting of nature causes Honor to 
trip on the truth: a lapnis lingum proclaims the 
parent, and identifies the daughter.) 

"Well may the crathur call me mudder. It's 
myself that's been more than a fader to all her 
mudder's childer. But sure,'* she adds, turning to 
the master-at-arms, " doesn't all the world, ould and 
young, be now afther callin' me mudder? It^s for 
all the world like puttin' ducks' eggs undher a bin. 
The young ducklins think, from the care the ould 
cackler taJces of the web-footed crathurs, that the 
hin most be their raal mudder, whin, at the same 
time, it's as plain as the nose on yer face, the bin's 
no more nor their nat*ral aunt : — ^its thrue for me." 
— ^The mother*s art corrects the daughter's nature, 
and now both " aunt" and " niece" are themselves 
again. 

[But, on retiring to her hovel in the Holy Ground 
— after driving the pig out of the parlor — ^for secrets 
are not to be uttered in the presence of the porker 
^-«he inflicts on the daughter a moral lecture, upon 
the impropriety of " misnaming her afore the peo- 
ple aboord." " Lucky for me, so it was, the first 
lift'nint didn't hear the vice (voice) o' ye. — Oh, 
Honor ! Honor ! what would he think (an' he had 
the thou^t, if I hadn't mended the matter) : ye 
wasn't my nat'ral niece? — Mudder, mudder; — the 
dickens mndder ye: don*t ye know well enough, 
the navy gintilmen think times is bad wid poor peo- 
ple, when a body is obligated to bring a daughter 
aboord a man-o*-war? Now, for the nitur, larn to 
call me aunt wid a bould an' asy tongue, an' whin- 
ever mudder comes into yer mind, hould yer prate, 
or muffle yer mouth ! "] 

" Come, child — throw oif the jock — ^make yerself 
tidy, an' take the laugh off yer mouth afore ye face 
the gindemen. Come, be stirrin'. Follow mc — FU 
lade the way ;" and aft walks the waddling mother, 
followed by her uncloaked, unbonnetted, and all 
but onbloshing ^^niect,^^ Aware that the ladies are 



allowed the entree, the sentinel at his post throws 
open the ward-room door. 

"Sarvint, gintlemen. Welcome all to Cove," 
cries the large " lady," dropping in the door-way 
her best courtesy. " The blessins on all yer bu-tce- 
ful, brown, sun-burnt faces; sign for yees, yeVe 
come from furrin parts." 

" Good standing color, old girl," returns the first- 
lieutenant. "Come," he adds familiarly, "bring 
yourselves both to an anchor." 

The chair of the old girl is soon filled, but the 
younger lass manifests a little of shyness in taking 
her seat. 

"Come, young-im," cries the imsophisticated 
master, addressing the still standing girl, "come, 
what are ye ashamed of? — Look at your mother." 

" Ah, thin, it toot her mudder that never wu 
ashamed of dacent people." 

" Why, are you not her mother?" asks the first- 
lieutenant, throwing at each female alternate glances. 
" Why, she muet be yours — she's the very picture 
of you." 

" An' well she might ; for it's myself that vhu the 
very pictur of her mudder ;" and here her broad 
and expansive bosom, like the swell of the sea, 
heaves and sinks with a heavy sigh — a sigh worthy 
of a widow in her weeds. But suddenly and adroitly 
she turns the subiect. " Of coorse, gintlemin, ye'U 
be afther wantin yer linen washed ? It's we that 
can get it up in illegant style. Yer things we'll 
bleach for yees, whiter than the dhriven snow ; an* 
as for the platin' — may be all the bu-tee-ful ladies 
at the balls won't be axin' ye, *Who plates yer 
bussums, an' who pinches yer frills?' — ^It's thrue 
for me." 

The plating of the bosoms, and the pinching of 
the frills, already ensure her the officers' custom ; 
and now, under the influence of a little "ship's" 
rum (which she " hears is good for the wind"), she 
not only becomes the more loquacious, but also the 
more communicative on local matters. She des- 
cants on the beauties of the river — ^no allusion to 
Honor — but she breaks forth in a figurative strain 
on the many " big bu-tee-ful sates on both banks 
of the Lee." 

Honor, though less loquacious, is not the less be- 
witching. — " Lickor never lights on her lip," " The 
very smell of it always turns her head," and " Tay 
is her strongest dhrink." But her naivete and ^lay* 
fulness of manner amuses the "nice gintleman'* 
seated by her side, and the silken softness of her 
iet hair entices his fingers to set right her droop- 
mg locks. 

" Ah, now, be quiet wid ye ; — ^keep yer fingers to 
yerself; — fait, I'll be afther lavin' ye, if ye don't 
lave my hair alone. Ah, m — " 

The lapms of mother had nearly escaped ; but it 
is promptly caught, and the substitution of " aunt " 
amends the maternal appeal — to " make the gintle- 
man behave himself." 

But the mother's thoughts are otherwise engaged. 
The liberty taken with her Honor's hair is not the 
*^ liberty given to broach the beer." Besides she 
has yet to feel her way touching the prudence of 
giving the ship's company trust. 

" May-be yer honor," she says in an under tone, 
addressing the officer possessing the power to favor 
her views, — " may-be yer honor can be tellin' a 
body when the people's comin' in coorse o' pay ?" 

" Why, they've three years' whack due," returns 
the executive chiefl 



A BUND BTOBT ; OB, HBS. OLAPPEK 8 BETCRN. 



"FoorcrathnnT Ifi ttw likea o' thej tli&t it 
desarrin' o' thruatl Maj-bs It's tot honor," ^lii: 
ftdda coBiinglj, "'ill be now lottin me broach iUt- 
beer f A nod of uwdC ensues, and (he fair tradt'i li 
rise to depart — the mother pouring docn bleatin^j 
on the huds of the Bereral officers assembled, ni^d 
the d&ughter dectariog, in acceate not intended lo 
be tost, "that nicer-mannered and gintaler giailv- 
men wasn't to be found in the Rrand fleet 1 " 

Andnowcomesonlhe tugof "tick." The cook a 
of the mi?Bscs, kid io hand, close round the flokinK 
barrel, whilst Honor, as in honor bound, checlu llio 
cballutig score of the msiter-at-arnia. During eath 
day's detentioaof the ship in port, the "stout" oi 
the stout dame flows to the same tune; sad lhi;< 
"MTving" on the score of " trust," serres aa un 
alierM:htim for a passage to tlie port at which rlii' 
ship is ordered to bo paid; — sod then it is that iIjl' 
mother-wit of the "mother" begins to telL 

On this aide of tlie water, tho fair traders afiont 
ue craft altogether of another kin-l. It is true itiat 
aome partake of the Dutch build — are bluff ia ihc 
bowB, full abaft, and conTenientlj formed for stow- 
age : hut, still, those who desiro to stand well with 
sea-iaring folk, studj sj'mmelrical lines, fineness of 
form, and, particularlj, neatness in the rigging, 
low and aloft But, to drop meupbor, the Cut 
traders (and often the fairest afloat) of Gosport, 
Portsmouth, and FlTmouth, are perfectlj aware of 



I the nantiMl feeling in &to 

, Hence the (wnbastio conceit: — 
Tla ths busliMia of Bunty to bHame tbs boalj erf BnriiiMi. 
In their mode of commanding success, the Eng- 
lish Bum-boat Women are perfectly opposed to the 
practice pursued b; the sisterhood of the sister l^le ; 
and though, to attain their end, the Bri^h fair sel- 
dom display flashes of wit, thej neTcrtbeless hue 
always their wits about them. In short, Id the pur- 
suit of business, they adopt the "silent system," 
trusting more to tho power of the eye, than to the 
power of the tongue. 

What an eye had Bumboat Betl Indeed did it 
"sound a parley of provocation." Whether in an- 
ger or despair, the dropping of her long-lashed lid, 
was alono sufficient to raise in her favor ten thou- 
sand tongues; and, as for Coaxing Kale, she had 
only to smite — display her bewitching teeth — to 
command Rin at the main, — aye, and ol'tain imme- 
diate admission, were even the fore-topsail loose, 
and " Blue-Peier" flying at the fore." And what 
might not be said of their courage? The weather 
they encounter, and dangers they brave, in pursu- 
ing their work on the waters. But ws forget — our 
sketch ia confined to the fair of Erin. 

■ Vhvn It b« dulrsd to InUnuts the iblp la about to de- 
part, the fiire-lopeall li let looee. ud th* tif, blDe-pienxd- 
whlle, li dliplsf td at the fon. 



A BUND ffrORT; OR MRS. CLAPPEB'S BETURN. 



ntOH " HAVT-COLOBaD 

RRTUunira iat« one evening from Oraveaend, 
Where she hod journeyed with a dear old friend, 
Kept till 'twas more than late enough lo sup, 
Because, like her, the ittam could not grl up. 
Dame Clapper saw light from her chamber Bash 
Forth frofa the aash. 
The blind was down but on it fell the shade 

Of her loved lord.— Think's she "He's in a fright, 
Lest I should not come homo to-night; 
How ^d hell be to find I have not stayedl" 

Thrilling with love, and " all that sort of thing," 
She hastily advanced lo knock or ring, 
When on the blind another figure fell. 

Starting at what she saw. 
Fury to seise her soul, rushed out of hell, 

She "held her breath for awe." 
Then mentally eiclaimed, "What's to be donef 

Two beads I see, hut they approacb so nigh, 

That in Ihit cote, two are not in my eye, 
StlUr Ihan ont r 

Who can describe her psasion's wild alarms, 
Fearing her lord was fsithlesa to her charms t 
Tears trickling down, she cried with wild aflnghl, 
" BhadoiBt ' — "lis King Dick's speech from Shaka- 



The knocker now the lady agitated. 

And then with somewhat of impatience wuled. 

No answer wu returned by her loved spouse, 
And BO she knocked again, in iucb a way, 
Bhe nearly brought Joien — so the neighbors say. 

If not her gmtltnum at leut the Aoiis*. 




Still closed against her, did the door rem^n, 
8be ftelt of conrne at auch eiolnaiou shock'd, 
And even louder than before she knock'd, 
Sang and knock'd. 

Rang and knock'd ogaia. 



At hM the huiband ventured to appear ; 
Ukt one just risea from bed in wild inrpriw, 
Tiwning, while tlmost doaed hit e;es, 

Hit mouth vu netrlj itretuhed from ear to ear. 

Hew loTely, XMure, all thj plan t 

Hoir equitable are thy laws! 
If ahnt the e;ea of drowsy man, 

Ihj care 'tli to extend hU JHw«t 
nil therefore may make up for Ihat, 
beanteona acheme of tit for tat I 

Of eourae, at b^K kept to long, ahe frown'd. 
And he lamented naving slept so lound ; 
But tald fae Joyed to see Ms boeom's pride — 
BeUmL 

Nov to ntire he hinted alie hid bcit, 
Bfcaasa be was conrinced she wanted rest. 
Coiuent sbe gave, jet paused upon the way, 
"With sweet, reluctant, amorous delay," 
Sbe thought a robber's footstep struck her ear, 
Wlucb made her for ber tender husband fear. 



With carelen laughter and facetious grin, 
The husband bide her all sucb notions scout ; 

"A'o thief" ho said, " for robbery could get in. 
He dreaded mucb, " 77m munJcr wn^il nm 



Bow long Dame CUppcr rared, I hare not time 
To leli in prose, much Icia to put in rbyiiLC ; 
SulGce it then to say her lord'u disgrace 
Was made complete, and neatly clawed hit 



'Twas then he sighed, " woe is n 

Too late the moral comes to mil 
That naughty triclis which none ta 

Uay be discorvred by the bliniL 
" But wiTes," he added, " who will 

And go and gad about, 
Ought to expect when thcj ei 

To find tktir AtHbaml* oiU.' 



AoflH 



UAUMERING IT IN. 




DirmcssiD by a se'e e cold for wh ch I vs' 
fcbted to the Turiable nature of the weather 
last days of Kovember I ea jos erday mom 
in a despondent way besdc mv coffee nnl 
tOMt, roasted the eoles of my si ppers and 
away my digestion over the oat mo der recour 
In the Times. Suddenly I was start cd by h i 
of a man nisfaing humedlr op-etairs the doo 
nj dlling-room wai burM open and my fr 
Boulder, nourishing in his hand a heavy ban mer i 
■tood before me, and gasped out 1 re done t at the hammer — for a trace of human hair m 
lut, Smith I Tve done t at last I" Boulder i<< a crack of Ihe handle 
most excitable man, wi h a wife and a large fam ly Wh h— who— how maov f 1 shouted 

of bojB. I looked aghast for marki of blood upon | Uy son Jack be declared, la the cMia 



782 



HAMMERING^ IT IN. 



alL He brought it upon me. Smith, my dear 
friendf would you have believed I should have ever 
come to this ? Cut me some ham ?** 

He sat down opposite me in an easy chair, turned 
up his soles also to the fire, helped himself to a 
thick slice of bread, and said again, 

*' Cut mo some ham. I must be off to the hills 
in ten minutes, and it*s well to fortify myself^ be- 
cause I may miss dinner to-day .'^ 

"Sir I Mr. Boulder!" 

" Let me ring for a cup and saucer. There, now, 
go on with your breakfast, and Til tell you all about 
it. I was led to it entirely by that hard-headed 
fellow, David Page." 

"Page?" 

" David Page, F. G. S. Hark you ! Three weeks 
ago, Mrs. Boulder came to me and said, * Peter.* 
I replied, * Siuuinnah.* She said, * Look at Jack^s 
clean shirt.* she showed me a shirt folded neatly, 
with its front covered with red stains, and holes, 
and indentations. * Mercy,* I cried, * what*8 the 
cause of this?* Jack was at school — round the 
comer, you know — ^Tickleby*s day-school. * I wish 
to show you, Mr. B.,* said my old girl, * Jack*s linen 
drawer.* Followed my wife, looked in the drawer, 
found it filled up with stones and dirt. Li the 
drawer below that, found clay, sand, and old shells 
in his Sunday jacket. Caused the dirt to be in- 
stantly carried to the dust-hole. Further examined 
drawers in Jack^s room, and, in the comer of one, 
found a book entitled, * Advanced Text-Book of 
Geology, Descriptive and Industrial, by David 
Page, F. G. S.*" 

" * That's what has done it, Peter,* Mrs. B. said. 
*■ That's the book I*ve seen him reading evening after 
evening.* *He shall read no more of it,* said I. 
'The book is confiscated.* When Jack came home 
at dinner-time we had a great disturbance." 

Here Boulder gasped over his ham, and I felt 
painfully nervous. Boulder went on : 

" * Jack,* said I, ' you shall never more look on 
that book.' I put it on my own library table. I 

rieped into it ; I looked into it ; I read bits of it ; 
read more of it ; I liked it ; I studied it ; I threw 
myself heart and soul into it ; I comprehended it ; 
— ^I bought a hammer.** 

Here Boulder caught his hammer up and flourish- 
ed it again. He was evidently stone-mad. 

"With this hammer, my boy, I break my way 
into the treasury of Nature." 

Here Boulder brought his hammer down and 
smashed my tea-cup. 

"Ah, good I" he cried, taking a fragment up. 
" A lucky accident. Look at the crystalline frac- 
ture. What*8 here ? Clay. What makes the clay 
crystalline in its fracture? Fire. Theory of the 
igneous rocks. Thickness of the ponderable crust 
of the globe, eight hundred miles. Depth at which 
most of the rocks ordinarily found at the surface 
would exist in a molten state, say five and twenty 
miles. Undercrust of the globe, granite. Here s 
a bit." 

My excitable friend took from the mantel-piece a 
handsome paper-weight of polished stone. 

" Some ass of a man has polished this fine speci- 
men of primitive rock." With one tap of his ham- 
mer, Boulder broke it in two. " Observe,*' he said, 
" the exquisite fracture." 

" Exquisite— confound ^** 

"Never polish a fine specimen. The geologist, 
my dear boy, is most particular to show you a clean 



fracture and nothing else. He breaks a stone, and 
takes pains not so much as to dim with a finger's 
touch the brilliance of the broken surface. Now 
fractures are of various sorts, conchoidal or shell- 
like, even, uneven, smooth, splintery, hackly. Only 
look in this beautiful bit of granite, at the silvery 
gleams of the mica and the suety bits of quartz 
speckling the solid pudding of the felspar. Quartz 
is, of simple minerals, one of the hardest. I knock 
out a little chip of granite, and you will observe 
that it is impossible to powder the quartz in it by 
blows of a hammer on the hearth-stone. Ton per- 
ceive the hearth-stone breaks, but the quartz grains 
remain uncomminuted." 

" Mr. Boulder — " I began faintly. I was made 
somewhat weak and helpless by my cold, or I should 
have met vigor with vigor. 

" Pardon me. Smith ; they remun, I say, uncom- 
minuted. Let me advise you to be a geologist. I 
am going to the hills to-day on an excursion. Come. 
Ah, you have a cold. Well, I will stop exactly half 
an hour." Here he pulled out his watch. " I do 
want you to share my enjoyment. I do want to 
make you feel the delight caused by the study of 
geology. I didn't think that I should take it up 
myself when I turned out Jack's drawers. Page 
over-persuaded me. He's just the man to bring the 
science home to you. Ah, Mrs. Boulder doesn't 
know it, but Fve carried up her spare sheets and 
blankets into one of the attics, and have a most 
beautiful experiment on the formation of mud- 
banka from aqueous deposit in her linen chest. Fve 
mixed up in water earth and shells and a shilling's 
worth of shrimps. In a few days, when I drain the 
water off, you come over to me, and 111 show you 
how the top crust of the world is formed, and how 
the remains of extinct animals get to be mixed with 
it. Only, if Mrs. B. should by chance go to the 
chest before the experiment is finished — O Ihoie 
women ! those women." 

" But now, Smith, as you've a cold, and canH go 
to the hills, FU show you how a geologist need go 
no farther than his own room for a study of incom* 
parably the most glorious of sciences. 1*11 give you 
to-day only an elementary lesson. When I cone 
next, we*ll go into the thing more completely. Now 
look here,*' — down came the hammer on a comer 
of my mantelpiece, — " I break off this little bit of 
metamorphic rock ; the character has been destroy- 
ed by polishing, but now what beauty have I not 
revealed." 

"Boulder," I cried, "give me your hanmier. 
Let me send your hammer down into the halL" 

" Thank you, thank you — I shall be going pres- 
ently. *Tis not worth while. Dismiss from your 
mind what I was just saying about aqueous rocks. 
Above the igneous you have the metamorphic— you 
have, to speak familiarly, the mantelpiece upon the 
paper weight and not the paper weight upon the 
mantel-piece. 

"I have, have I?" 

"To be sure yon have. Heat and the pressure 
of the superincumbent strata have given to these 
metamorphic rocks their crystalline appearance, 
though it is believed that they were once deposited 
by water, and contained fossils of which aU trace 
has been extinguished. Well then, Smith, on the 
top of the metamorphic rocks on the top of the 
mantel-piece, we place Sir Roderick Hnrchiion.'* 

"Can it be possible?" 

" Tes, MurcniBou and the SUurian rodu d^bad 



KB. niFPT a TAOABIBS. 



733 



tloDgwii 

"5.111 



"Taa. Hm« we lure cert^ Hndstonei, ihalei, 
iMfirtniif, flsatODM, and the slalea near Bala. 
By Jove 1 Smiui, jod'tb a bUm top to that conBole 
tiUa. It it ihoukl 1>« SilurUn, jan happjr dogl — 
if it «kauld be aiurian !" 

Dp leeped m; friend, and np leaped I, but not in 
tine to nre the chipping of a rather costly bit of 
fimhiire. 

"Boulder," I cried, hoarse with rage and rbcura 
togrtber, " break knotbeT piece of fumiture, and 
we are enemiea for erer I" 

"Ah, mj boj, ;oa hare year enthauasm yet to 
come. ITl promiie to break nothing of any value. 
Bat of what ralue are theee precious polished spe- 
dmena of youreT Their value's doubled when they 
•how the fiscture and the cieiTige and that wirt of 
thing. Kay, Fll break nothing more. Welt, then, 
ibore tbe Slurian you have the old red sandstone, 



and then aboTe that — bal but it's all fair to break 
coal— above that the con]." 

A heavy lump of coat was suddenly whipped out 
of the coal-scuttle, and bting hammered into frag- 
ments on the brealdutc cloth before I could effec- 
tually interfere. 

" It is most interesting to gearch coal for tbe re- 
maiiiB of eilitict vegetable life. The marking* 
sometimes are of the most beautiful descKp^on. 
The whole of yeeterdiy I spent In our coal-EelUr, 
and a more delightful day I never " 

A loud knocliing at the street-door startled ua. 
Mr. Boulder wu picking carefully about tbe con- 
tents of the coal-scuttle, and had spread some choice 
bits on the rug for further investigation, when a 
servant appeared (o report that Hra. Boulder wish- 
ed, if Hr. B. was dieen(^ed, to see him instantly. 

"Abl" said my friend, laying another coal upon 
the rug. " She has been to the linen press. Smith, 
go ftnd pacify her." 



MR. HIFFY'S VAGARIES 



Hot a wntaBM— not a lylUble of TWonMltTHf it 
iHpir of pus ud (yllggbma— Cauun Laso. 



1 be lent through my nfgleet. I un bis word-btsker—Ui si 




Hr. HiFFT — as he was 

familiarly called, other- 
wise Harly Uippisley, 
Gent,— Mr. Hippy was 
not a man of wit, tboueh 
he BOmetimca approach. 
ed very nigh to It. A 
Scotch friend, indeed, 

of met" Cmeauing wil). 
"Yes," said he, turning 
his eye with a merry 
twinkle upon hii flatter- 
ing friend, "very i«*." 
And he took the hint 
fW)m his friend's pronun- 
ciatioD to suggest this as 
the true reading of a 
couplet by Sryden which 
has becD much disput- 
ed— 



T drinking largely — 

■• dhtIt Ii allied, 

do UMlt tMundt divlda. 



He wa« elmply a man of whim, which sometimes 
had blended up with it mo^b playful pleasantry, and 
■ometimes a ifdce of true humor to season it ; for 
be waaahamoiiK,orIkuownot what humorla; an 
Kngitjli homorist— the only humorist ; and notwith- 
■taadiiig aD Us real or imagined unhappiaess (and 
be bad Euny good proofs to give as reasons for any 
monwntary indnlgenoe in compUnt), he was, after 
all, of Uiat happy ikahire, that though there 
tioMl a UTor M Mlt In his humor, there ' 
bittemeos ; nothing that offended the good taste, n 
hart tbe belingi St hi* Mends t ■ . ^ 



had, in an eminent degree, that rare quality \a a 
maa who loved jesting and raillery, and indulged in 
Ihem, that he could forbear and spare. If he 
thought a severe lliing of any one, he would not 
give it utlcrance. He was In that respect, pcrhapa, 
a little loo tender of others; for he sometimei 
spared those who did not i^pare him. I have seen 
him put down by an impudent dog or conceited 
boohy, aod have not a word to say for himself. I 
heard him once, and never but once, regret that 
he sometimes felt such an embarrassment and diffi- 
dence in society, that "for the life of him be could 
not Bay fro / to a goose when he met one ; and be 
regretted this the more, because he so often met a 
eoode, and lost lo many opportunities for saying 
bo r But he was eminently a humorist ; and felt, 
I should say, more pleasure in abstaining fhnn 
severities of tongue than he could have taken in 
indulging that unruly member in an unbridled and 
unbitted license. Yet no man, I believe, bad a 
sharper sense of the ridiculous, a keener eye at 
detecting the faults, and follies, and weaknesses of 
his fellow-men ; and no man was more prompt and 
prone to pity and be patieut with them, let them 
pass and say nothing, though he thought much 
upon tbem. If be could persuade an j one out of an 
error, he spoke ; if he saw Ibst that was a hopeless 
task, he was silent. " Let him that is without sin 

I cost the first stone," was the religious rule that gov- 
erned and restraiued bim. He was, I believe, a 
really benevolent man in the main — if tiot at all 
time* and in all things ; any departure of his from 
that "even tenor" of a wise man's way neverthe- 
less and notwithstandinE. If he ever diverged 
from that "primrose path," and had to accuse him- 
self with any sins of commission— or sins of Dml»- 

1 sion, which sre worse — no man more bitterly re- 
gretted tbem. His humor, hi* jest* and jibes, were 

I therefore Innocuons, and hurt not; and thla wu . 
perhape tbeii best conunendatlon. 



734 



HB. HIPPT'S vagaries. 



Mr. Hippy could sometimes say severities, bnt he 
was best at a quiet reproof. Some one, speaking in 
contempt of the mind of a mutual associate, said, 
** Tou may put all the ideas be has under this gob- 
let." Hippy silently drew from his pocket a Pick- 
ering copy of Horace, laid it upon the table, drained 
his goblet, and turning it over the little volume, 
the whole works, the wit, the playful humor, and 
brilliant genius of the beloved friend of Virgil and 
Maecenas, and the favored of Augustus, lay under 
that small crystal dome. The '* moral** was ob- 
vious. 

Among a knot of friends who were amusing them- 
selves with cutting up a foolish acquaintance, he 
interposed by wishing that they would take a 
hint from Mrs. Rundeirs advice to carvers — that 
** It is not necessary to cut up the whole goose, un- 
less the company is very large." He would often 
turn aside the shafts of ill-nature and ridicule by 
some such pleasant reproof. 

Reing in a drinking party where a dirty wit kept 
the table in a roar, Hippy sat in silence. His chair 
neighbor remarked it — "You do not laugh with 
■our facetious friend." "No, sir," sternly replied 
Hippy, who loved wit much, but decency more ; — 
** I saw a dirty pig this day who had just wallowed 
in the mire, but I did not feel compelled to hug 
him ; I had too much respect for my white waist- 
coat." During the same evening, he got into his 
old " merry cue," and kept his friends amused, and 
Instructed too, without once calling in the aid of 
the low balderdash which some men mistake for 
humor. I could soon see that the company were 
very glad to exchange the cleanly tongue and the 
wholesome, healthy humor of my merry and wise 
friend for the cancerous comicalities of the dirty- 
minded gentleman upon whom he had so lately put 
an extinguisher. The club-room was full, every- 
body happy, the ale brisk as a bee — the waiters 
ditto ; the Welsh rare-bits never so large and so 
good ; the " natives," as fresh as a daisy, opened 
■as if they were obliged to the knife that let them 
loose, and were uncommonly fat and fine. Puggles- 
ton was in the chair pro forma ; Hippy faced him. 
No singing was allowed, which kept the company 
select and sensible. Any gentleman who forgot 
himself so far as to strike up a song, found himself, 
before verse the first was concluded, in the hands 
•of four stout members of the club, who quietly took 
him out by the legs and wings, with as much grav- 
ity as four undertakers would carry out a departed 
gentleman, opened the yard door, set little or big 
-warbler down upon the cold stones, and left him 
there to " sing his eyes out ;" and when he was 
thoroughly song-exhausted, and come to a sense of 
his situation, then, and not till then, was he brought 
back to his chair with the same grave honors, per- 
fectly sane, and silent, and songless. 

Hearing a young friend with good ideas, but an 
inaptness for uttering them, struggling hard to give 
expression to a happy thought he had somehow got 
hold of, he said, " you have hooked a fine fish there, 
W ; but you do not seem to me to know 
how to land it. Play with it, boy ; give it line ; 
and when you have let it spend its strength, then 
haul it slowly and steadily, whip your landing-net 
under it quietly, and lift it on shore." 

No man sooner saw through masks and the usual 
dominoes in which men disguise themselves in the 
masquerade of life. He penetrated in a moment 
through the thin disguises of a professing friend of 



his, who preached benevolence, but stood selfishly 
still when the time came in which he should stir.— 
** If," said he, " he was over his dessert, and had 
split a walnut in halves, and (his dining-room bans- 
ing over the river) he saw you drowning under his 
window, he would not be at the trouble to throw 
out one-half of the shell if it would save you. Rut 
as soon as you were sunk * full fathoms five,* no 
man would compete with him in the pathos of his 
exclamations — no one shed more tears for your la- 
mentable death — and no one return so soon to hia 
cigar and whiskey-toddy, and forget you altogether, 
as though you had never been." 

Sitting composedly after supper, over his conclude 
ing glass, he felt a fly travelling slowly down his 
nose, till it *' puUed up," as he expressed it, at the 
bridge : " Go on," said he, pleasantly, ** there is no 
toll.* As I have mentioned his nose, I may as well 
add, that it was undoubtedly none of the shortest, 
and he never denied it — he was too conscious and 
too candid ; at any time, as he allowed, it was not a 
bad sabbath day*s journey for any fly in all fly dom to 
travel from the beginning to the end thereof. I 
remember some one remarking how very low down 
his spectacles hung upon his nose, and wondering 
that they did not fell oflf. " Oh !" said he, " there 
is no fear of that : my nose is so long, that before 
my glasses could get to the end of it, I should be 
sure to overtake them ;" and he threw himself back 
in his chair, and, with Richard, descanted on hia 
own deformity. 

He was ** a man of an unbounded stomach" for 
humor ; and even in his short fits of spleen and 
passion there was some unexpected stroke of humor, 
or some oddity of expression, that diverted you, 
and made his ill-temper as good as other people^s 
good temper. Seeing him one day with a very long 
face and lowering brow, and impatient with all 
about him, I ventured to whisper, "Tou do not 
seem to be very happy to day. Hippy?" ** Happy!" 
he shrieked out, glancing a severe eye at me, as 
though he would look me through, " I only want a 
pair of tight boots to make me a misanthrope." 

Most men, when in pain of body or agony of 
mind, find a sort of ease in an oath, or in some 
kind of violence. I have seen my poor friend pale 
and trembling with pain, and he never seemed so 
much inclined to laugh ; his antic disposition was 
never so playful, and you were never so sure of 
something out-of-the-way "to startle and waylay" 
you. When apparently most melancholy, humor 
always seemed to be lurking in the comer of his 
eye, and some preposterous pun lay ready to be 
perpetrated upon the tip of his tongue. 

I was sitting with him one day while a delug- 
ing rain was falling, and flooding the street till it 
looked like a part of the river running at the bot- 
tom of it. Suddenly, a great outcry was heard hi 
the regions below, and then a sound of feet hurry- 
ing up stairs, and in a moment Mrs. Fondleman 
burst abniptly into the room, crying out, " Oh, Mr. 
Hippy, Mr. Hippy! — I*m ruined! Fm drowned! 
We shall be all swept away! WhatahaU I do?* 
" What is the matter, madam?** he inquired. "Oh 
that gully ! It*s of no more use than a pepper4K>x 
or a cullender ! Tve tried every thing — it*8 stopped, 
and nothing never will open it!** It was enough 
to provoke a sidnt to see hia impertnrfoable temper: 
"Nothing will open it, eh ?" inquired he. "No- 
nothing : Fve tried every thing,^aaid Mn. F. "Try 
MorriBon*s PUla," aaid he, " they remove all obatnic- 



KB. HIPFT B TAOABIEB. 



735 



lional" Hn. F. looked bti|^ tor > moment kt hu 
IcTilj, mnd I know Ere hundred ladies vho would 
luTe Ikught him better mAUTicni tliim to Jeet U, 
nch in unreasoiiabk lime ; but (lis knew that her 
lodger would have fail joke if he hanfted for it, and 
n ihe laughed in lieu of being angry, and lie. to 
reirtrd her good humor, then went down, and with 
■n old flgbing-rod puddled about the cbokvd gully 
till be cleared it. Hn. F. then thanked him wllh 
t hundred curteien, and wu pirticuLirly careful of 
Iu> cnimpell at te*-time. 

Waiting to get into Ibe [Ht of Covent Garden 
theatre, he felt a pick-pocket quietly pubc him of 
Ui handkerchief. He took no immediate nolive of 
him, bnt pondered bia reTcnge. The prig diil [lot 
move away, aa ia the custom of " the ^ntle craft" 
when tbey have hooked their fiith : he was evident- 
ly going into the pit loa, and only amused himself 
with taking Hippy's handkerchief to kill time till 
the doora were opened. But being one of that un- 
easy order of persons who cMiiiot " let well alone" 
■hen all ia wcU, and liuving a (ew niitiutea more to 
spare, he neat turned hiH attention to Hippy's fob- 
pocket: then he reckoned it was high time lo tell 
him what he thought of bin eielusire attentions ; 
■od turning suddenly round and looking him full in 
the face, he said rery coolly, "Hiive tlic goodness, 
nr, to wipe my Atx." " I wipe your face I Come, 
I like that uncommon much 1 cictnimed the man, 
" Why should I wipe your face, when I've got one 
of my own to attend to T" asked the bum forDotany 
Bay. "I repeat It," said IIip]>y, " wipe my facol" 
Just at thia moment, Donuldvoa, the old ihculre- 
officer, bawled out, "Take eare of your pockets, 
ladies and gentlemen !" Hippy looki'd in the fileh's 
bee significantly, and he took the hint. "If you've 
lost your wiper," aud he, humbly, " it happens 
TerT Ibninate that Fve a viper to spare: there, 
ni lend you one with the utmost mildness;" and bo 
Mying he thrust a new silk handkerchief. — not 
Hippy^s — into his hand, and sneskcd off. " While 
1 was congratulating myneif upon making so good 
m exchange of an old lamp for a new one, and con- 
Mitedly chuckling orer my euccen in oucwittiDg a 



piekpoekel, there was a Hudilvn cry of 'Officerl 
otlieer ! — I'm robbed — I'm robbed !' Another voice 
cried, 'That's him 1' and in a moment more I 
should have been in custody ns a juekpocket, had 
nut old Do»ald;<on, when ho approaehcd to seiie 
me, known me, and exelaimcd, 'Uli, no, it's not 
tliij'creoldgemman, I'll take myilavyl I've known 
this 'ere gemma.li these thirty years, off and on — 
ho an't the man t' And be pushed through the 
crowd la look fur the culprit, but the Botany Bar 
bird had flown ; and I liive now no doubt, nor had 
I then, that it was Mr. Allfinger, my furtive friend, 
who, to give me a Rowland for my Ulivcr, had 
pointed me out ax Ibc thief, and so got quietly off 
himself. From wliicb adventure I draw thi.i very im- 
portacit noral. — ' Sever to plnr with edged tools.' " 
I remember his eoming into the ciub-ronni that 
night, and telling us tiiis uiniif^ing incident in his 
most amusing luamicr. Uo did not often vi^it the 
theatres; he hud seen ihc old aclura, and did not 
take very kindly to the new. . One of the things 
which annoyed him moat ia flic modern heroes of 
the buskin, was their OTcr-ingenuity in finiUng 
more in S)iuks|icre'a text than ShakjipoTc ever 
meant, lie nag so displeased with these perverM 
fellows, that ha said with much bitterness, "Where 
the good old motto, ' Veluti in iqieculum,' used to 
l>e inscribed, there should now be written ' Commit 
no new sense.' " This led to a long argument be- 
tween us, which, as wo had not concluded it in the 
club-room, was continued till we arrived at ths 
doors of our rcspociivo domleildi, which were op- 
posite to each other. Ue claimed the vietory m 
the discussion — I denied it. As be stood kiiockiog 
at his door, a cock crowed loudly. " Mind," tried 
Hippy across the street to me, with his usual con- 
sideration for the feelings uf another, and his usual 
readiness at a stroke of humor, — "Mind, it was 
not me that cruvred !" I was so much tickled 
with ills pleasantry, that I handsomely acknow- 
ledged that he was right in his argument; and he was. 




MK. HIFPT*B TAOABISB. 



with a itiiklng pecnUarilj of Tision coming on to- 
wards tu : he wu too humane a mui, in genenl, to 
DuUte defonnitieB plaything* for his pleuantry, hot 
he uid, " I don't know what that man has done to 
me that lie caooot look me itraight in the face : he 
ma; tiare bis reaaona for it, and perhaps the princi- 
pal one is — be squints." 

Qmng over a picture-gallerj with him one daj, 
there was, of course, (hat old favorite story of 
uinters, Potiphar and Joseph, smoug the rest. 
We passed on, and came to another picture, In 
which two lovers were seen warmlj embracing: it 
was finely piunted, and I stopped before it. "What 
is the Bl«ry F" 1 inquired of Uipp^ , " Oh, the old 
one, Potipliar and JoBephl"be replied. "Nay 
said I, " Joseph would hare nothing to do with her 
and lore himself away 1" — "Hahl true; but be has 
thought better of it.'' 

Hr. Hippy was such a thorough homorilt (hat he 
would even do you " a good turn" in the guise of a 

J'oke — tell you of an error, and teach you a lesson 
1 a pun, and take some pains to work it out aod 
make you see it. His friend Etty, he saw plainly 
was killing himseUHrithover'application in his profes- 
riOD, and want of exercise and relaxation. Some men 
would have preacbed him into a passion with moral 
and medical reSectioiiS; he took a longer coune 
but a shorter one in the end. Be knew that his 
friend would at any time go six miles to look at a 
fine picture, so be committed a pious fraud by tell 
Ing him that if he would walk with him to the sub 
urbs he would show bim a Csnaletti. According 
ly, he dragged him out of London into Surrey, and 
on and on they weal, till at last, as they were 
creeinng along the bank of the canal below Cam 
berwell, the fatigued Mr. Etty inquired, " but where 
is this same Canaletti J" " Oh, ah I" laid his wag 
gish companion, who had now perfected the pun 
" why, hero is the Canai, Stty T and pring him a 
good-humored push, he almost puihed him into it 
Of course, Hr. Etty saw the humor of the lesson, and 
laughed ; and Hippy, to reward his placability, after 
dragging him over the bridge, and up (he pleasant 
Peckham Rise to sharpen bis appetite, gave him a 
■eries of " mutton chops to follow," and a bottle of 
■berry following them again, and a good dish of 
discourse on tbe painters who are poets, and the 
poets who ar« painters. 

In a party where a gentieman was bragging ex- 
traragantly, he quietly admonished him, and told him 
at the same time what ho thought of him, by stoop- 
ing down and patting a parlor pug-dog on the head, 
and quoting the old saying — " Brag is a good dog ;" 
and then removing his hand to a China dog, on the 
tuautel-piece, and patting thaton the head too, add- 
ing — "but Hold-his-tougue is abetter." Uy gentle- 
man bragged no more that night — he tried another 
tack, and plunged into the deep waters of erodi- 
tion — " He t" said Hippy to me aside, — " a shallow 
dog, that should not go into a shoe-bath without 
corks under him 1" At length when the smatterer 
got into the peroration of a diasertation upon " the 
Digamma," he could no longer bear with the evi- 
dently drowning puppy, and stemly aaid, "Don't go 

out of your depth, Ur. , merely to show us that 

jou cannot swim." He did not often Indulge In 
sucb a severity, ao that he coold the better ^ord 
h, once in a way. Two or three instances of the 
like kind occurred to me. I remember we were 
once talking of a very mawkish man of letters ; 
Hippy very hapjdly described bim m always looking 



like a permn of sentiment Tsry sick of a sop In the 
pan. The fickleness and indecision of an old friend 
being under discussion — " He T" said he, "why he 
is as undecided as a feather between four winds." 

Hippy, loo, would, with other wags, sometimes 
have his Joke oat, if he died for it. Having a toler- 
able appetite, not flinching from his glass, and 
being naturally disposed lo mertness, he fell at last 
into a state of plethora, and was confined to his 
second-fioor bed-chamber. "Tou must live lower," 
said Dr. Fumblepulse, as he fingered his wiisl : 
" You must live lower." Hippy took him literally ; 
and when the Doctor called next day he foond 
him at full feed m the parlor upon which, tbe 
worthy phvBicisn remonstrated, and Hippy "ei- 
plamed across the table " and the Doctor laughed 
at hla waggerv and Hippy laughed 100, and WW of 
coarse all tbe better for it next day 




He hated Dr. Johnson's hatred of puns, tuid 
loved them, and the worse they were (as parents 
love most their worst-favored children) the more 
be petted them, tbe more pains be took in " getting 
them up," and playing and acting them. He once 
pretended that he had a decided objection to eating 
oysters, which I thought originated in his antipathy 
to destroying any creature with life in it i hot I was 
mistaken, it was only one of his whims ; for upon 
being assured by Hr. Flynn, the fishmonger of Fleet- 
street, that " his natives opened larger than tbrir 
shells"'-"Oh, if that is the case, Hr. Plynn," said 
ho, " it must be quite a happy relief to be released 
from shells too small for tbem 1 Pray, let two 
doien of them stretch themaelves out on my ac- 
count." And bis conscience being tbns bamorons- 
ly satisfied as to the humanity of eating his fellow- 
natives, as he called them, be sat down to satisfy 
the cravings of nature. 

I canght him once near Spring Gardens, where 
the cows give up their mQk " tbr a consideTation" 
to the demanding dry mouths of the " babes and 
sucklings" who make that spot a sort of out-door 
nnr«ery. Be was apparently lost In atudioua mhi- 



THK BED FIBHBBUAir. 



737 



lideimtlon of ■omething serious, about which he 
BOW looked infinitely gniTe, and now chuckled and 
frinned delightedlj. I broke in upon his " brown 
UndT," and inquired what it was that so " perplex- 
ed** bim in the " meanders of his brain.** He con- 
fessed that he had been filling up the time he had 
ksd to wait for his friend Spiffle, "somewhere 
■igh,** by ■atisfying himself— as logically as he 
eoBld — that the little stunty Park cowkecper he 
ksd in his eye, and to whom he directed mine, was, 
dioiigh he thought it not, to all intents and pur- 
poses a pnblican ; and " thus Hwas done :** — " The 
dsiryman kept his cows in public T Granted. 
"They were therefore jaMie eows r Granted 
•nin. ** The tap-keeper also kept his pMie Wie r 
(Cbdbite) for public house.) Granted. "If the 
one was a pubhcan, eceUrit paribus^ the other was 
ft publican?** Not granted; but I laughed, and 

Sve a House of Commons " Oh !** which Patisfied 
n quite as welL Thus would he ** trifle time 
ftwty." 



It was Mr. Hippy, who, when his barber was 
going to sleep while dressing his hair, roused him 
by vociferously striking up " Ah com^ rajpida /** — 
(" Ah comb me rapider !") When some lew years 
since, a creation of Peers amazed and amused the 
political world, and among the other lifts. Lord 
Grosvenor was made Marquis of Westminster, 
Hippy had no partisan objection to the measure ; 
he only said — " I hope we shall be indulged also 
with a Marquis of Mile-End and a Viscount-OfT-the- 
Stones!** — --Some one censuring a smart, flashy 
habit he had of wearing his hat cocked on the right 
side of his head, in a most perilous attitude during 
blowing weather, he accounted for it satisfiictorily, 
I think : — " You must know, sir, that I am leaving 
off* this hat by degrees ; and, as you may observe, 
I have left it oft' on the left side already.** — Some 
one attributing the wants of Ireland to rich absen- 
teeism, " No, sir,** said he, " it is not absenteeism, 
but absent-dinnerism which is the misery of the 
poor Irish.** 



•#» 



THE RED FISHERMAN. 

BT WINTHROP MACKWORTII PRAED. 

Ob fleth, flesh, how art thou flBhifled !— Rom bo and JuLnr. 



Tri abbot aroie, and closed his book, 

And donned bis sandal shoon, 
And wandered forth, alone, to look 

Upoa the sammer moon ; 
k itorBght sky was o*er his head, 

A quiet breeie around ; 
And tne flowers a thrilling fragrance shed, 

And the waTee a soothing sound : 
It was not an hour, nor a scene, for aught 

But love and calm delight ; 
Tet the holy man had a cloud of thought 

On his wrinkled brow that night. 
He gazed on the river that gurgled by, 

But he thought not of the reeds : 
He clasped hit gilded rosary. 

But he did not tell the beads ; 
If he looked to the heaven, *twas not to invoke 

The Spirit that dweUeth there ; 
If he opened his lips, the words they spoke 

Had never the tone of prayer. 
A pioaa priest might the abbot seem. 

He had swayed the crosier well ; 
But what was the theme of the abbot*s dream. 

The abbot were loth to telL 

Gooipanionlefls, for a mile or more. 

He traced the windings of the shore. 

Oh, beaateoos is that river still. 

As it winds by many a sloping hiU, 

And many a dim o*erarching grove, 

And many a flat and sunny cove. 

And terraced lawns, whose bright arcades 

Die honeyBuckle sweetly shades. 

And rocks, whose very crags seemed bowers. 

So gaj thej are with grass and flowers I 



Bat the abbot was thinking of scenery. 

About as much in sooth, 
As a lover Uilnks of constancy, 

Or an advocate <^ truth. 



He did not mark how the skies in wrath 

Grew dark above his head ; 
He did not mark how the xtiOs»y path 

Grew damp beneath liis tread ; 
And nearer he came, and still more near. 

To a pool, in whose recess 
The water had slept for many a year. 

Unchanged and motionless ; 
From the river stream it spread away 

The space of a half a rood ; 
The surface had the hue of clay 

And the scent of human blood ; 
The trees and the herbs that round it grew 

Were venomous and foul ; 
And the birds that through the bushes flew 

Were the vulture and the owl ; 
The water was as dark and rank 

As ever a Company pumped ; 
And the perch, that was netted and laid on the 
bank, 

Grew rotten while it jumped : 
And bold was he who thither came 

At midnight, man or boy ; 
For the place was cursed with an evil name. 

And that name was *' The Devil*s Decoy !** 

The abbot was weary as abbot could be, 
And he sat down to rest on the stump of a tree, 
When suddenly rose a dismal tone — 
Was it a song, or was it a moan ? 
" Oh, oh ! Oh, oh ! 
Above, below! 
Lightly and brightly they glide and go ; 
The hungry and keen on the top are leaping, 
The lazy and fat in the depths are sleeping ; 
Fishing is fine when the pool is muddy, 
Broiling is rich when the coals are ruddy !** 
In a monstrous fright, by the murky light. 
He looked to the left and he looked to the right, 
And what was the vision close before him. 
That flung such a sudden stupor o*er him? 



TIIK BXD FlBHEBHAir. 



Twu t, sight to make the bur upriM, 
And the life-blood colder run : 

The >iKrt1ed priest struck both his thighs, 
And the Bbbe; clock (truck one I 



Son SD old man's hoUow groan 
Echoed troln the dungeon atone : 
Ndv the weak and waUing erj 
Of a stripling's agouj I 




Sicktng his heels on the dew; sod. 
And putting in Order his reel and rod. 
Red were the rags his sbouldera wore, 
And a high red cap on hij head he bore ; 
Bis arms and his legs were long and bare ; 
And two or three locks of long red bair 
Were losnog about his Bcnggy neck, 
Like a tattered flag o'er a, splitting wreck. 
It might be Time, or it mlghl be troable. 
Bad bent that Btoul back nearij double—- 
Sunk in their deep and hollon sockets 
That blsiing couple of Congreve rocket*. 
And shrunk and Bbrirelled thst tawn; akin, 
Tffl it hirdlj covered the bones within. 
The line the abbot saw him throw 
Had been fashioned and formed lone tge» ago, 
And the hands that worked his foreign vest 
Long aget ago bad gone to their rest : 
Ton would have sworn, as jou looked on them, 
He had fished in the flood with Ham and Shem t 
There was turning of kejs, and creaking of locks, 
As he took forth a bait from his iron box. 
Minnow or gentle, worm or fly — 
It seemed not such to the abbol'a eye ; 
Gail; it glittered with jewel and gem. 
And its shape was the shape of a diadem. 
It was fastened a gleaimnK hook about, 
B; a chain within and a chain without ; 
The Gsherman gare it a kick and a spin, 
And the water Sued as it tumbled in I 
From the bowels of the earth, 
Strange and raried sounds bad birth — 
Now the battle's barsting peal, 
Ndgh of steed, and dang of iteel; 



When he saw a gasping knight lie theie, 
With a gash beneath his clotted hair, 

And a hump upon his shoulder. 
And the loyal churchman strove in Tain 

To mutter a Pater Noster ; 
For he who writhed in mortal pain 
Was cainped^at uight on Boeworth plain— 

The cruel Duke of Olo'sterl 

There was turning of keys, and creaking of locki. 

As he took forth a bait from his Iron box. 

It was a haunch of princely siie, 

Filling with fragrance earth and skies. 

Tbc corpulent abbot knew full well 

The swelling form, and the slesming smelly 

Neter a monk that wore a hood 

Could better have guessed the very wood 

Where (he noble hurt had stood at bay, 

Weary and wounded, at ctoae of day. 

Sonnded then the noisy glee 
Of a revelling company — 
Sprightly story, wicked j«at, 
Rated servant, greeted gueat. 
Flow of wine, and flight of cork : 
Stroke of knife, and thrust of foril : 
But, where'er the board w 
Grace, I ween, wb« never i 

Palling and tugging the fisherman nt; 

And the priest was ready to vomit. 
When he hauled out a gentleman, fine and tat. 
With a belly as big as a brimming rat. 

And a nose at red as a comet 



MiNMd, 

aidt 



THB BED FIBl 




*' A ^gital atdr," the bhenMii «>Id, 

" with dniiMDOii and sberrf t" 
ADd the abbot turned any his head, 
For hU brother «u lyiog before him dead, 
Th« major of St. Edmond'a Burj I 



There va« turning of keji, and creaking of 

locks, 
Ai he took forth a bait from hl« iron box : 
It vai a bundle of bcanUfnl things — 
A peacock's tail, and a butterfly's wings, 
A (carlet slipper, an auburn carl, 
A mantle of dlk, and a bracelet of pearl, 
And a packet of letters, from whose sweet fold 
Soeh a atream of delicate odors rolled, 
That the abbot fell on his face, and fainted, 
And deemed lua spirit waa b«lf-«a; eajnted. 



Soandt seemed dropjung fWim the akiea, 
Stifled whispers, smothered sight, 
And the breath of Ternsl gales. 
And the voice of nigh(ingale|; 
Bat the nightingales were mute, 
EnTlona, when an unseen lute 
Shaped the moric of its chords 
Into paarion's thrilling words : 

"Smile, ladj, smile 1— I will not Kt 
Open m; brow the coronet, 
Tm than wilt gaUier roaes white 
To wear aronnd its gams of light. 
Soule, ladf, smile [ — 1 will not see 
Bivers and Hastings bend the knee, 
VII those bewitehinK llpa of thioe 
WOl Ud me rise in bliss from mine. 
Smile, ladj, smile 1 — for who would win 
A loTeless throne through gilt and sin t 
Or who would reign o'er *a1e and hill, 
If woman's heart were rebel sliU T 



One jerk, and there a ladj la;, 

A Udj wondrous fair; 
But the rose of her Up had faded awij, 
And her cheek was as white and as cold as cbj, 

And torn was her raven hair. 
" Ah, ah !" said the fisher, in merrj guise, 

" Her gallant was hooked before ;" 
And the abbot heaved some piteous idghs, 
for oil be had blessed those deep blue ejes, 

The ejes of Histress Stiore I 

There was turning of be js, and creaking of locks, 

As he took forth a bait fhim his iron box. 

Himr the cunning sportsman tried, 

Many he flung with a frown aside; 

A minBlrel'B harp, and a miser's chest, 

A hermit's cowl, and a bsron'a crest. 

Jewels of lustre, robes of price. 

Tomes of heresy, loaded dice, 

And golden cups of the brightest wine 

Tliat ever was prewed from the Burgundy vine ; 

There was a perfume of sulphur and nitre, 

As he came at last to a biahop's mitre I 

From lop to toe the abbot shook, 

As the fislierman armed his golden hook; 

And awfully were hia features wrought 

By some dark dream or wakened thought. 

Look how the fearful felon gates 

On the scaffold his country's vengeance misea. 

When the lips are cracked and the jaws are dry 

With the thirst which only in death slinll die: 

Hark the mariner's frenzied fWiwn 

As the swgling wherry settles down. 

When peril has numbed the sense and will, 

Though the hand and the foot may struggle StUL 

Wilder far was the abbot's glance. 

Deeper far was the abbot's trance : 

Fixed OS a monument, still as air, 

He bent no knee, and he breathed no prayer; 

But he Mgned — he knew not why or how — 

The sign of the Cross on his clainmy hrow. 

There was turning of keys, and creaking of lockl. 
As he stalked away with hia iron boi. 

"Oh, hoi Oh. hoi 

The cock doth crow ; 
It Is time for the fisher to Hs« and go. 
Fair luck to the abbot, fair luck to the shrinel 
He hath gnawed in twain my choicest line ; 
Let him swim to the north, let him swim to the 

south. 
The abbot wilt carry my hook in his mouthl" 

The abbot had preached for many years. 

With as clear articulation 
As ever was heard in the Dause of Feen 

Against emancipation; 
Bis words had made battaUona quake. 

Had roused the leal of martyrs; 
He kept the court an hour awake, 

And the king himself three quarter*: 
But ever, from that hour, 'tis said, 

He stammered and he stuttered. 
As if an axe went through hU bead 

With every word he uttered. 
He stuttered o'er blessing, he stuttered o'er ban,. 

He stuttered, drunk or dry; 
And none but he and the Bdier 

Could tell the reason why ! 



AS IMTXttVIKW WITH A FABHA, 



AN INTBBriEW WITH A PASHA. 



noM "Bomu." BT o. 1 



I> tbe Ottomui dominions there is mrcely kdj 
bnediUrj infloeDce except that which beloaga to 
the fiunilj of the Sultan ; aod wealth, too, ii a bighl j 
volatile blessing, not eanlj tnnsinittcd to the de- 
■cendanta of the owner. From iheee caiuea it re- 
Bults, that tbe people itaading in the place of noblcB 
aod gentrj, are official personages, and though manjr 
(indeed the greater number) of these potentates are 
bmnblj bom and bred, jou will seldom, I Ihinfc, 
find them wanting in that polished smootbneu of 
manner, and tboee well undulating (onea which be- 
long to the beat Omnanlees. Tbe truth is, that 
most of the men in authority have riaen from their 
humble statioos bj the arts of tbe courtier, and 
they preseire in their high estate, thoae gentle 
powers of fascination to which they owe their suc- 
cess. Tct onless yon can contrive to leam a little 
of the language, you will be rather bored by your 
flsiu of ceremony ; the intervention of the inter- 
preter, or Dragoman as be is called, is fatsl to tbe 
spirit of converaalion. I tUnk I should mislead 
you, if I were to attempt to gi>e the substance of 
any particular conreraatlon with Orientals. A trav- 
eHer may write and say that, "the Pasha of So-and- 
80 was particulariy interested in the last progress 
wblch has been made in the ii^cation of steam, 
and appeared to undentand the structure of our 
machinery — that he remarked upon the gigaatio 
Ksolts of our manufacturing industry — showed 
that he possessed coiuldersble knowledge of our 
Indian affurs, and of the constitution of the Com- 
pany, and eipressed a lively admiration of the ' 
many sterling qoalitiea for which the people of 
England are distinguished," But the heap of com- 
mon-places tbns quietly attributed to the Pasha, 
win have been founded, perbapi, on some such talk- 



PisHi. The Rngllnhm«n Is welcome ; most blew 
ed among hoars is this, the hour of bis coming. 

DKxaouxii(liith7\rttPtlUr). The Paaha pays yoi 
his coni[dinients. 

TuTiLLxa. GIto him my best compliment* ii 
return, and say Pm deUghted to have the honor ol 
seeing him , 

Dkaoohai) ((a Uii Patlka). His Lordship, tU 
Englishman, Lord of London, Scomer of Ireland 
Suppressor of France, has quitted his govemmenls 
and left his enemies to breathe for a moment, itH 
has crossed the broad waters in strict lUiKnise, will 
a small but eternally faithful retinue of fulowera, b 
order that he miRht look apon the bright conate 
nance of the Pa^a among Pashas-'tbe Pasha al 
the everlaning Pashollk ofEaragholookoldoar. 



Tuviu-iit (fo hU DragonuB^ What on eaill 
uave you been saying about London F The Pashi 
will be taking me for a mere cockney. Have not 1 
told yon ofirayt to say, that I am from a branch of 
the family of Mudcombe Park, and that I am to b> 
a magistrate far Uie county of Bedfordshire, only 
Pre not qualified, and ttiat I should hare been s 
Deputy -lieutenant, if it had not been for tbe extra- 
ordinary conduct of Lord XouDtpromise, and that I 
was a candidate for Goldborough at the tasl elee- 
tion, and that I should have won easy, if my com- 
mittee had not been bought. I wish to beaTes 
that if you do say anything about me, you'd tell the 
dmple truth. 

Dkaoohah — [u nieni]. 

Pasbi. What says the fHendly Lord of London t 
is there aught that I can grant blm within the Faih- 
alik of Karagholookoldour F 

l}t.kOOKAS{groKmgtidt}iandiiten^ This fHend- 
ly Englishman — this branch of Hudcombe — Ihii 
head-purveyor of Goldborough — this popible po- 




AN IMTEBTIEW WITH A PASHA. 



741 



fieemaa of Bedfordshire is recounting hia achieve- 
mentt, and the number of hia titles. 

Pasha. The end of his honors is more distant than 
the ends of the earth, and the catalogue of his glori- 
ous deeds is brighter than the firmament of Heaven ! 

Draooman (to the Traveller). The Pasha congrat- 
ulates your Excellency. 

Tbatkllkb. About Goldboroughf The deuce 
he does ! — but I want to get at his views in relation 
to tiie present state of the Ottoman Empire'; tell 
him the Houses of Parliament have met, and that 
there has been a speech from the throne, pledging 
England to preserve the integrity of the Sultan's 
dominions. 

DsAOOMJOi {to the Paaha). This branch of Mud- 
combe, this possible policeman of Bedfordshire, in- 
forms your Highness that in England the talking 
booses hare met, and that the integrity of the Sul- 
tan's dominions has been assured for ever and ever, 
by a speech from the velvet chair. 

Pasha. Wonderful chair! Wonderful houses! 
— ^whirrl whirr! all by wheels! — ^whiz! whiz! all 
by steam! — ^wonderful chair! wonderful houses! 
wonderful people ! — whirr ! whirr I all by wheels ! 
— ^whiz ! whiz ! all by steam ! 

TsATELLiR {to the Dragoman). What does the 
Pasha mean by the whizzing? he does not mean to 
say, does he, that our Government will ever aban- 
don their pledges to the Sultan ? 

DsAOOMAiv. No, your Excellency; but he says 
the English talk by wheels and steam. 

TsATiixiR. That's an exaggeration ; but pay that 
the English really have carried machinery to great 
perfection ; tell the Pasha (he'll be struck with that), 
that whenever we have any disturbances to put 
down, even at two or three hundred miles from 
London, we can send troops by the thousand, to 
the scene of action, in a few hours. 

Draooxah (recovering his temper and freedom of 
apeeek). His Excellency, this Lord of Mudcombe, 
obsenres to your Highness, that whenever the Irish, 
or the French, or the Indians rebel against the 
Eog^h, whole armies of soldiers, and brigades of 
artillery, are dropped into a mighty chasm called 
Euston Square, and in the biting of a cartridge they 
arise np again in Manchester, or Dublin, or PariH, 
or Delhi, and utterly exterminate the enemies of 
England from the face of the earth. 

Pasha. I know it — ^I know all — ^the particulars 
have been fiuthfully related to me, and my mind 
comprehends locomotives. The armies of the Eng- 
lish ride upon the vapors of boiling cauldrons, and 
their horses are flaming coals ! — whirr ! whirr ! all 
by wheels ! — ^whiz ! whiz I all by steam ! 

TsATSLLBR {to hie Dragoman). I wish to have 
the opinion of an nnprejudlced Ottoman gentleman, 
as to the prospects of our English commerce and 
mann&ctures ; Just ask the Pasha to give me his 
views on the subject. 

Pasha {after having received the communication of 
the Dragoman), The ships of the English swarm 
like flies; their printed calicoes cover the whole 
earth, and by the side of their swords the blades of 
Damascus are blades of grass. All India is but an 



item in the ledger-books of the merchants, whose 
lumber-rooms are filled with ancient thrones! — 
whirr I whirr ! all by wheels ! — whiz ! whiz ! all by 
steam ! 

Dragoman. The Pasha compliments the cutlery 
of England, and also the East India Company. 

Traveller. The Pasha's right about the cutlery 
(I tried my scimitar with the common officers' 
swordt* belonging to our fellows at Malta, and they 
cut it like the leuf of a novel]. Well [to the Drag- 
oman], tell the Pasha I am exceedingly gratified to 
find that he entertains such a high opinion of our 
manufacturing energy, but I should like him to 
know, though, that we have got something in Eng- 
land besides that. These foreigners are always fan- 
cying that wo have nothing but ships, and railways, 
and East Companies ; do juHt tell the Pasha that 
our rural ditiitricts deserve his attention, and that 
even within the last two hundred years, there has 
been an evident improvement in the culture of the 
turnip, and if he does not take any interest about 
that, at all events you can explain that we have our 
virtues in the country — that the British yeoman is 
still, tluink God! the British yeoman:—- Oh! and 
by the by, whilst you arc about it, you may as well 
say that we arc a truth-telling people, and, like the 
Osmaulces, arc faithful in the performance of our 
promises. 

Pasha [after hearing the Dragoman']. It is true, 
it is true : — through all Feringhistan the English are 
foremost and best; for the Russians are drilled 
swine, and the Germans are sleeping babes, and the 
Italians are the servants of songs, and the French 
are the sons of newspapers, and the Greeks they 
are weavers of lies, but the English and the Osman- 
lees are brothers together in righteousness ; for the 
Osmanlees believe in one only God, and cleave to 
the Koran, and destroy idols ; so do the English 
worship one God, and abominate graven images, 
and tell the truth, and believe in a book ; and though 
they drink the juice of the grape, yet to say that 
they worship their prophet as God, or to say that 
they are eaters of pork, these are lies, — lies bom of 
Greeks, and nursed by Jews ! 

Dragoman. The Pasha compliments the English. 

Tratkller [ruing]. Well, I've had enough of 
this. Tell the rasha, I am greatly obliged to him 
for his hospitality, and still more for his kindness in 
furnishing me with horses, and say that now I must 
be off. 

Pasha [after hearing the Dragoman^ and standing 
up on his Divan]. Proud are the sires and blessed 
are the dams of the horses that shall carry his Ex- 
cellency to the end of his prosperous journey. — May 
the saddle beneath him glide down to the gates of 
the happy city, like a boat swimming on the third 
river of Paradise. — May he sleep the sleep of a 
child, when his friends are around him, and the 
while that his enemies are abroad, may his eyes 
flame red through the darkness — more red than the 
eyes of ten tigers ! — farewell ! 

Dragoman. The Pasha wishes your Excellency a 
pleasant journey. 

So ends the visit. 



-•♦•- 



t( 



Which doyon think the merriest place in ex- 
istence?** **Tiiat immediately above the atmos- 
phere that surrounds the earth." **Why so?" 
** Because I am told that there all bodies loee their 
gratrity, 

48 



A mother admonishing her son, a lad about seven 
years of age, told him he should never put off till 
to-morrow any thing that he could do to-day. The 
little urchin replied, ** Then, mother, let's eat the 
remainder of the plum pudding to-night.** 



742 



HINTS TO ARCHERS. 



HINTS TO ARCHERS. 

BT CAPTAIN CRAM, B. P. SOTAL BOBSX MAAIKIS. — AVON. 

With loToes in canrMS bowHsaae tied. 

Where arrows stick in mickle pride ; 

Uke ghats of Adam Bell and Clymine 

Bol wtXA—forftar ih^jfU ttvoot cU A^m.-^Sn Wm. Datzkasv. 



I AM an enthusiastic admirer of the long-bow, 
that ** noble weapon of renown/* I have made my- 
self acquainted with its history, from the day it was 
first invented by Apollo to the present time. I 
have studied minutely the great Ascham^s **Five 
Points of Archery," — I have practised ttanding^ 
nookinffy drawing^ holding^ and looting; and written 
practical observations on each movement. I can 
tell you all about the Target, the Bracer, Quiver, 
Belt, Pouch, Tassal, and Grease-box ; I have atten- 
tively read, nay, even learned, by heart, Ascham^s 
"Toxophilus,'* Strutt^s ** Sports and Pastimes,** Mose- 
ley*s " Essays on Archery,** Roberts* " English Bow- 
man,** Barrington*s tract in the ** Archsologia ;** 
besides every writer of antiquity that has treated, 
ever so remotely, on the long-bow. The result of 
my studies will be apparent in the following pages 
— ^it will be seen that I am no contemptible shot. 

The long-bow is a weapon of the very earliest an- 
tiquity; it is supposed to have been introduced 
into England by the Cretan auxiliaries under Julius 
Cesar. The weapon was never much in esteem 
among the Legions, though after reading the com- 
mentaries of the Roman hero, I cannot help suspect- 
ing that the *^ Immortal Caesar** was hunseUf no 
■traneer to its practice. 

AlUiough the Romans, as a people, were not cele- 
brated for excellence in the art, yet Suetonius and 
others give some wonderful accounts of the pro- 
gress of many of the Emperors. Commodus was 
an absolute marvel. Herodian says, he would kill 
a hundred lions in the amphitheatre with a hundred 
arrows, and never miss, or merely wound, in a sin- 
gle instance. That was not all ; he would cause 
arrows to be made with sharp circular heads, and 
when the ostrich was urged to full speed, he would 
remove its head so dexterously, that the uncon- 
scious bird would continue running as though no- 
thing had happened I The emperor must have been 
a devil of a shot, and so was Herodian! 

But these were isolated cases. — It was reserved 
for Britons to carry the palm of archery against the 
world. In Scotland, the bow was practised as early 
as in the south, if we may believe one Macpherson 
—A poet of a very remote age, and the author of 
Ossian. ** Sons of Leith,** says Macpherson, ** brine 
the bowa of our fathers I the sounding quitfera of 
Horni!** And in Wales, there were archers of 
wonderful skill. Giraldus Cambrensis relates, that, 
during a siege in that country, two soldiers, in 
haste to regain their tower, were annoyed by the 
arrows of the Welsh. They succeeded in closing 
the portals ; but were killed notwithstanding ; for 
the arrows went clean throueh the defence, which 
was of hardened oak, closely studded, and four 
inches thick I William de Breusa, himself an archer, 
likewise relates, that he saw a horse-soldier, clad in 
complete mail, with buff coat beneath, struck 
through the hip with an arrow, which not only kill- 
ed the rider, but, ^rcing the saddle, killed the 
horse. **But,** says William, ** although that might 
be thought a clever shot, it was nothing t^ another 
I saw.** Another Welshman struck another mailed 



horseman, in a similar way, and fastened him to 
the saddle through the hip ; but the wounded man 
turning his horse by the bridle, the same archer 
dealt another shaft, which, ttrtmgt to say, observes 
William, passed through the other hip, and com- 
pletely fixed him ; and the horse plunged so fear- 
fully, that men marvelled to see so clever a horse- 
man, not knowing the ingenious manner by which 
he was made to keep his seat I If the gentleman 
did not affirm that he saw these things, I should 
hardly have believed him. This De Breusa was a 
member of the *' Royal British Bowmen,** which 
society exists to this day, and can produce as good 
shots as William. 

But of all who have conferred lustre on the annals 
of archery, none are so conspicuous as the bold out- 
law of Sherwood, that **most gentle theefe,** as 
Grafton calls him in his Chronicle of Breteyne. — 
Dr. Hanmer, speaking of the extraordinary things 
performed by Robin Hood and Little John, says, 
the latter is reported to have shot an arrow a mue ; 
*^ but I leave these,** observes the worthy doctor 
rather discourteously, '* among the liet of the Imnd^ 
I don*t know why he should disbelieve it, when 
many greater things than that have been done, 
with the help of the long-bow ; as any one may see 
who reads the doctor*s ** Chronicles of Ireland !** 

I would willingly recount the feats of the great 
archers of former days, but I have no space. I must 
pass over the g^at Zosimus, who described a friend 
<fhi9 at the battle of Mursa, who had the wonder- 
tul gift of discharging three arrows at once, and 
killing a man with each I Phillippe de Comines and 
Froissart were great shots, as any one will discover 
by reading their Chronicles. And Sir John Smith, 
who tells us of the ** valleys which ran with rivers 
of blood, caused by the slaughter from the Turkirii 
bow.** The great Lord Bacon, too, a splendid arch- 
er, who writes, *^ The Turkish bow giveth a very 
forcible shoot ; insomuch that it hath been known 
that the arrow hath pierced clean through a steel 
target, and a plate of brass two inehet Stick /** I 
must leave, though unwillingly, the exploits of these 
great men and good archers, and touch upon t)ie 
modems, and with great justice ; for, however grand 
are the recorded feats of former days, I will back 
the performances of our own times against them, 
whether for length, strength, or ability. 

I believe I have hinted, in my title, that I have 
the honor to belong to that higUy respectable and 
distinguished corps, the Royal Horse Marines, so 
called from their always riding at anchor, and from 
my long service in different countries have had 
much experience in these matters of which I treat. 

I have witnessed the practice of each country, 
and hardly know to which to award the palm. The 
Americans take an extraordinary range, and shoot 
very fearlessly. The French, if not so strong, are 
peculiarly dexterous ; but an Irishman poesesaes a 
wonderfhl facility for shooting round comers, par- 
ticularly if a tailor is after him. The most extraor- 
dinary feat I ever witnessed was of an Irishman, 
who ehot up Holborn HiU, and with such prodiffiimM 



HINTB TO ABCHEB8. 



743 



/oree, that both his eyes went clean through a brick 
waU t This is a Uct ; for I saw it. I have known 
some good shots among the English, particularly 
the ladies, who draw a Tery powerful bow ; one, 
particularly, I remember, who shot so far beyond 
the mark, that her shaft was positively lost in the 
douda ! She was a member of the *' Tozophilite^* 
society, of which the late king was president. 
Their was another capital English shot, a friend of 
mine, who belonged to the ** Royal Kentisn Bow- 
men ;** he used to relate, that once riding from 
•Seven (HJcs, he was overtaken by a thunder-storm ; 
he hoped to escape it by giving his horse the reins, 
and singular enough he just kept a-head of it by 
about half a yard! In this manner, he galloped at 
speed five miles, I may say, neck and neck with 
the thunder-cloud, the rain, or rather torrent, de- 
scending exactly upon his horse's crupper all the 
way ; the road behind was literally deluged ; as he 
emphatically observed, it could only be compared 
to being within half a yard of the falls of Niagara! 
He was fortunately saved from the cataract by 
shooting up a gateway. It was a capital shot. If 
any impertinent doubt was ever expressed at this 
relation, the archer would say, fiercely, *' Sir, if you 
want a lie, I^U ffipe you one ; but that's a fact, by 
G — !** and no man was better able ; he was one of 
the best shots I knew. 

I mentioned the French as dexterous marksmen. 
I once knew a gentleman from Gascony — proverbial 
for its archery ; he bad been an officer under Napo- 
leon — by the way, I have always remarked the 
superiority of soldiers and sailors in their manage- 
ment of the weapon. He told me of a duel in 
which he had been engaged at Paris, where the 
signal was tin, dtux^ and to fire at the word trou. 
It must be understood we had been quizzing the 
Parisians on their affectation in rolling the letter R 
about their mouths previous to utterance. **My 
opponent,** said the Gascon, ^* was of the garde 
imperial — 9aer€ tonnerre ! — he was a dead shot. I 
had but one chance, and I watched it narrowly. 
The second gave the word, tin, deux — but cdde Ji, 
kmg before he could finish the word trois, I shot 
my man dead!** I must observe that my lively 
friend was equally good with the pistol as with the 
bow. He was very jealous of the honor of his 
province, which he never allowed could be exoeed- 
ed in any thing. Some discourse once took place 
concerning the height of Monsieur Louis, the French 
giant, who measured six feet ten inches. *' Ton- 
nerrt /** cried he, ^*what a shrimp! Why, in my 
country, I knew a man so tall that he was positively 
obliged to get up a ladder every morning to shave 
himself; he was a tall man if you like.** He admit- 
ted that he never knew but one man of that stature, 
and that he was a very long way off. My friend 
was elected, some ye&re since, a member of the 
** Boyal Edinburgh Society** of Archers, and is an 
omament to that distinguished corps. After all, I 
must in justice say, that the Americans beat us all 
out of the field. Neither French, English, nor 
Irish, can compare with them in the use and prac- 
tice of the long-bow, although I am aware that I 
risk giving offence to many meritorious and skilful 
individuals. How does the incredulous cockney 
stare when he hears of the great sea-serpent I He 
does not believe it, not he— -he little knows it was 
an archer to whom the glory of the discovery is due. 
What eon he know of monsters of the deep, except 
cod-fish mad oysters in sauce ! What can he know 



of the howling wilderness, unless it be wildcmess- 
row I What of roaring cataracts, save that of low 
water at London Bridge I He can form no idea of 
the trackless waste by that of Walworth and New- 
ington Butts ; or of interminable forests, by that of 
Epping. His scepticism, therefore, U no scandal ; 
it requires an enlarged mind to comprehend the 
wonders of America, and to judge of the enterprise 
of archers by whom it has been explored. A very 
ingenious friend of mine, and, curious enough, of 
the same name as myself, a native of Boston, and a 
splendid shot, has frequently astonished me with 
the exploits of American archers. He said, that 
once, when he went into Kentucky to witness atrial 
of skill, he stayed by the way at a public-house, and 
observing in the room such an amount of broken 
ware, and equivocal marks, he was quite convinced, 
knowing the savage nature of Kentuckian fighting, 
that a desperate and murderous affray had taken 
place there. He remarked the servant sweeping 
the floor, and putting the contents carefully into a 
basket. Rather surprised, he asked her what she 
was preserving with such care. "Oh!" said the 
girl, ** nothing very particular, only a few eyesJ** 
" Eyes ?'* inquired my friend. ** You see,** she said, 
** about fourteen gentlemen went home blind last 
night, so I was just picking up their eyes, *cause 
the gentlemen, when they got sober, may be calling 
for *em, I guess !** 

My friend Cram I have great respect for, both as 
an accomplished archer, and an excellent man. He 
has witnessed some wonderful exertions of the art ; 
indeed, those wherein he has taken an active part, 
are not to be excelled by any professor of any 
country whatsoever. I remember, before I went 
to America, and became intimate with him, I was 
introduced to his sister, then residing in the county 
of Down. I forgot to mention he has some Irish 
blood in his veins, which may, perhaps, account for 
his superiority in skill and power. His sister, to 
give me an idea of the wonderful prowess of 
her beloved brother, gave me a letter to read, 
which she had received from him on his return to 
Boston from England. I will give an extract : 

" We had a pleasant sort of passage enough, but 
I missed my sport sadly. We, however, managed 
to practise with the bow and rifle, and I need not 
tell you, with some advantage over my less prac- 
tised companions. Occasionally, when the weather 
was fine. Captain Mizen, knowing my love of the 
sport, had the boat lowered, and we mustered up a 
shooting party. There is capital shooting on the 
Atlantic, but the game, though plentiful, is by no 
means varied. During our passage, I met with 
no other than the " flying fish." One day, I man- 
aged, however, to bag fitly brace of these amphi- 
bious birds, the sailors rowing us under the very 
trees in which thev build their nests ! We some- 
times had some good fishing. The dolphin is an 
extraordinarily rapacious fish ; an instance of which 
I will relate. We caught so many one day that 
several were thrown into the sea again, and we con- 
tinued merely for the sake of the sport. One of 
the fish, by some accident, had his tail cut off, and,, 
being short of bait, I put it upon my hook ; in about. 
a minute I hooked a fish, and, much to our surprise, 
it proved to be the very mutilated dolphin, posi- 
tively caught by his own tail. 

** I must not forget to tell you that we landed at 
Bermuda, and found the niggers all bald, which I 
heard was occasioned by the habit of butting m 



HIMT8 TO ABCHER8. 




heir pemonal cacoun ere w h es h o he Th s 
fact conimcPB me that the organ df combatiTeno^ 
is not, as Gait bas piaced it, beliiod the far. The 
Bennudiana are a Tcr; singular people. 1 was in- 
formed (hat those who itved OD the other siiie oC 
the island are quite amphibious, and lire for daja 
uader water. Tbis ia in consequence of their living 
entireif on fish. — I hare no reason 10 doubt the 
fact. Fish hero is extremely good 1 but ail kinds 
of meat arc inferior to those of England, except 
porit, irhich is so excellent that llic Bcrmudians 
lilerall; eat it till the bristles grow out of their skin I 

"The inhabitants have no occasion for lamps or 
candles of an; kind ; for the atmosphere, at night, 
is poBiliveiy in one blaze of illumination with fire- 
flies. These beautiful little creatures not only dis- 
pel darknexs, but when we want to light our cigare 
we need but calch one of these luciferouB insects, 
and holding it to our tobacco, Are is procured." 

I shallforbearquotingmorcof Mr. Cram's letter; 
the reader nil! doubtless be pleased with the spirit 
of obsetialion diaplafed throughout. I can mjself 
vouch for the auihenlicitj of his statements; for, 
not long allcrwarils, I made the same passage, and 
witnessed the things he describes. I had the good 
fortune, likewise, to bring down many coveys of the 
amphibiaua birds he menlions — the flyinf; fish, as 
well as several »ea-Hoodcocli8. which, having no 
dogs, ha could not Gush. Knowing this, 1 had 
taken care to provide myself with a brace of water- 
dogs, and found them very useful. 

I never shall forget the flret evening I arrived at 
Boston. Cram had invited man; congenial spirits 
(o meet me, and I never passed a pleasanter lime. 
Of course, our favorite weapon bore a prominent 
part in the conversation. Cram gave us ■ very in- 
teresting account of a vessel foundering near the 
coast, which was the means of elucidating a curious 
fact; he wished to prove a superiority of instinct 
in the scaly isbabitant« of these waters, over tboae 



of e ery other. It was no uncommon thing, he 
said, after that event, for the fiHhermcn to take a 
king-fish clothed in a bed-govtii uf ManiheEiter 
Btripes !— a shark was killed with a Guernsey sliirt 
on ; a wlioh; slioal of porpoires were seen with red 
night-cops ; end a guard-fish Kas hoolied that wore 
a gauie vcill A gentleman, however, from Trini- 
dad, a Ur. Huscovada, denied the intellectual 
superiority of the American fish over those of the 
West Indies; "and to prove it," observed Musco- 
vada, " I remember once, after the Thunder frigate 
was wrecked in the gulf of Paria, one of our w^le- 
boats harpooned a grampus, who, it was found, 
had the man-of-war's mainsail tied round bis neck 
for a cravat y What do you think of that?" said 
he. Cram was floored. 




TIIE KOCHTEBANK DOCTOR. 



bnndy-uid-wiWr ; m ha «u tbe puiy concerned. 
it iii» be raljed on. We vera ■peddng or EagUnd, 
■nd I wu relkting to him tb« diffieraat BOdetiel of 
Bowmen. 

AmoDg other peiMn*, the n&me of his luter wis 
introduced, tai he moitioned aevcnl interesting 
uecdoteB of her skill, when she wm « member o( 
ibt "Hainaolt Forattert." I happened to mentioa 
hiring been moch pleMed with (be letter he bud 
written to hia liiter, which I hftd the good fortune 
la leuL, uid, at hia with, related the points of it. 
" Ah 1 m7 dear Captain," Mid be, " that letter was 
nitlen wider rery nngnlnr circumstances ; I never 
knew till thi* momeDt what I wrote, although, from 



TM 

jour repetition, 1 hare onl; related the Ikcta aa they 
occurred." I eipreMed aome aurprise, and he con- 
tinued : "The fact was, I had been to a party that 
day, and had so astonished the natiTea with my 
skill upon our weapon, that I beliere I OTer-eierled 
myaelf. Wlien I reluroed, I commenced writing 
to my «»ler, as the packet was about to sail, and I 
remember well writing the word* ' My dear sister;' 
and when I tell you, that J wrote the whole of that 
communication to which you allude fast asleep, I 
tell you nothing more than the fact ; and what is 
more, actually folded, directed, and nealed il, and 
should not have waked, had 1 cot — burnt mugtigtrt 



THE UOUNTEBANE DOCTOa 




I EFSDH« my task with the deftcription of a char- 
teler noir entirely exIlQCt, but which sixty years 
uo waji one of DO trifiing importance — the Moun- 

i. few t rilabllBlied formulie hud been haniled down 
10 OS by our anceaton; but tbe mystery which ei- 
eilad cn^wity wi« not an ignorance of their ingre- 
dient*, but nther adnintion of the wonderful pre- 
cantiona to be obserred In their preparation, 
Planta were lobe gathered in the wane of the moon, 
and cipedally three daya before the new moon, and 
with tb« midnight dew upon them. Tben the e 

rndtii^city 

Ccdlege al Fhysclana n 



M of tboaa d*yi (fbr, a« yet, " chemists" also 
not) tbey cat down to aerenty or eighty. Keit, 
the wonderfhl aecnracr of the mstructioua, which, 
liMtMd of th* Tacae directions of ounces and 
drachma, wcra worded thua: — Bikery pikery, two 
pen'orth ; craiuuBon, on« pen'orth ; rhubarb, three 
peo'orth; maiJoiMn, a bandfiil; penny-royal, half 
a handful; wut* pemter, a pbich— and ao on. La- 
diea of fortune paaaed tbeb time in collecting large 
tolomea of theas valuable preacriptions, and every 
viator waa aoUcitcd for an addition to the treasure, 
aa ia the freaaat day for a contrihnlion to an al- 



bum. I have seen many of these Thesauri ; but as 
caligrapby was not culiivated In those days, and 
the orthography was ad libitum, they were often as 
obscure as the books of the Sybils. 

The comprehensive character of some of these 
prescriptions was admirable. I remember one in- 
deed in a book called " The Englishman's Treasure," 
published by the serjeanl-surgeon to King Henry 
the Eighth, to Edward the Siitb, Queen Mary, and 
Queen Eliubeth. which is thus beaded, " A Remedy 
for an Inward Ail." Ko One ever trumped this till 
the advent of Dr. Morrison with his pills — -" an in- 
fallible cure for all dieeasoa, medical or surgical." 

There were occasions, however, In which even 
tbe medical album failed to afford relief to the ten- 
ant fanners and their laborers, though its treasurea 
were bestowed and supcriulended by tbe Lady 
Bountiful of the district. In such cases, there was 
no resource but to wait for the Doetor, who made 
his regular rounds at stated seasons, and especially 
at fairs and wakes ; and his arrival was anticipated 
with a degree of anxiety and confideoce which those 



746 



THE MOUNTEBANK DOCTOR. 



only can appreciate who e^joy the double blearing 
of credulity and ignorance. Often have I superin- 
tended the erection of the stage on which the mira- 
clc>worker was to display his nostrums. I had a 
female friend, whose house was exactly facing it. 
She had been housekeeper to a nobleman, and re- 
tired on an independence. I had the honor to be 
an especial favorite of the old lady, and hare often 
had the happiness to be made ill by the quantity of 
custard, sugared bread and butter, toffy, barley su- 
gar, and above all, furmity, which she prepared 
with unsurpassable skill. The last delicacy per- 
haps is unknown in the present day ; — it deserves 
preservation in the records of gastronomy. It was 
composed of wheat boiled quite tender---deprived 
of its skin, and flaTored with cream, yolk of egg, 
cinnamon, sugar, chopped raisins, candied lemon 
peel, and various other dainties. I went from time 
to time to the window to watch the preparations 
for the doctor, as children in the present day wait 
the drawing up of the curtain for a pantomime, 
then back to my furmity and custard ; then again 
to the window, in blissful alternation. At last, the 
great man appeared, and funnitv and custard were 
abandoned — ^not, however, till I had eaten enough 
to make me ill next day. 

** A think a see him noo,^* as Mathews* old Scotch- 
woman says. He was a tall, spare man, punctil- 
iously dressed in black, with, of course, diamond 
Bhoe and knee buckles, a brilliant handled sword 
by his side, long lace ruffles to his wrists, his fingers 
covered with rings, a profusion of frill forming a 
cataract of lace and cambric from his neck to his 
waist ; while his satin waistcoat was only fastened 
with one button, that it might be displayed to ad- 
vantage : his hair frizzed out on both sides of his 
head to the greatest possible extent, and surmount- 
ed by a small three-cornered hat ; an immense silk 
bag, supposed to contain his long hair, but really, 
as in the present court dress, only fastened to the 
collar of his coat. Add to all these attractions, a 
face well rouged, and an immense gold-headed cane, 
and you have a perfect picture of the doctor of the 
last century. 

The polished gentleman was accompanied by his 
servant — ^his Jack Pudding— exactly in dress, man- 
ners, and language, the clown at a circus. His busi- 
ness was to lay plans for jokes, which, of course, 
bad been arranged beforehand with his master, and 
which were not always the most decent, but which 
never failed to raise a loud laugh among the clowns 
who composed the audience. The Doctor exhibited 
a few of the common conjurer tricks with the pulse 
glass, the air-pump, etc., and then proceeded to 
business. For all the aihnents that man or woman 
ever felt or fancied, ho had infallible remedies, — 
consumption, king^s evil, gout, rheumatism, lumba- 
go, jaundice, bile, (or as he pleased to call it, the 
boils,) and a thousand others were easily conquered; 
and I remember often bearing him lament that 
there was nobody ill enough to afford scope for the 
full power of his art. "^irty-fivo did I cure of 
the most inveterate jaundice in the town of Bir- 
migham, where I stayed only two days.** 

*^ A lie,** said the clown, (or Merry Andrew, as he 
was called, putting his hand te the side of his 
mouth, and affecting to speak to the mob in a stage 
whisper,) " A lie,*' said he, " there were only twen- 
ty-nine.** 

' ''Seven did 1 cure in the little Tillage of Brently, 
where I only stopped to bidt my horsei hidf an 
liour — ^*' 



"Another lie,*' said the Merry Andrew, «*1 
were only eight, and one of them was beginnii 
get better.*' 

Thus did he go on, through all the ills that 
is heir to, sometimes condescending to give d< 
of the most terrific cases, when, having workc 
his audience to breathless horror at the snffe 
he described, he would exclaim, '* Now who n 
be such a fool as to run the risk of all this, i 
by spending three and sixpence for this little b 
of ' Preservative Elixir of Life,* he can be sni 
escaping it for ever,** — and he held up one ol 
bottles with which his table was covered. 

After some story of unusual pathos, I rec< 
seeing people tumble up the steps by half doze 
possess themselves of the treasure, and put < 
their money with the greatest alacrity and sat; 
tion, — and as in Homoeopathy and Morrison's 
versal medicines, many of the better classes, 
in their sober moments, ridiculed the folly of o 
who put faith in a mountebank, carried away b 
enthusiasm of the orator, pushed forward to 
take of the blessings, or sent others for a large 
ply to distribute among the deserving poor. I 
quack had been more than usually successfi 
would generously give a supper to a select nn 
of the farmers and principal tradesmen of the 1 
and when (as a matter of course) they wei 
thoroughly drunk, he generally contrived to i 
them disburse such a sum for '' stuff** as abond 
covered the expenses of the entertainment. 

The bandying of jokes between |^e Merr] 
drew and the crowd, formed a large part o 
fun. Sometimes the doctor would affect ignoi 
of an obvious deception, and let the clumsy d 
enjoy a temporary triumph, when he would : 
the man a present of a bottle of his Preserr 
Elixir, saying that it would be a pity such a c 
fellow should ever be ill; but he generally 
trived to have his revenge before the termin 
of the day*s proceedings. 

On one occasion, a great gawky lumbering 
hopper thought he had devised a mode of tu; 
the Uugh against the Doctor. He mounte< 
stage, and on being questioned as to his disc 
said, very gravely, " Why, Fm a liar.** — " Sac 
order, sir, but perfectly curable,** said the d< 
'* Well, but (said the man) Tve a worser nor 
I*ve lost my memory.** — " Quite curable also," 
ed the Doctor, *' but I must make my prepara 
Come again after dinner, and I will be read 
you ; but pay down five shillings.** The man 
had intended to have his fun gratis, resistec 
the Doctor declared he never let any one 
from the stage till he had paid something. 
sides (said the Doctor) how can I trust you ; 
suy you are a liar, and have no memory ; sc 
will either break your promise or forget all ( 
it.** A loud Uugh from the crowd expressed 
acquiescence in the justice of the claim, an< 
poor devil, noUn9 volent, was compelled to lay 
the cash. No one supposed he would come s 
but the fool still hoped that he might turn the U 
and presented himself at the appointed hour. 

The Doctor received him with great grarity 
addressing the audience, said, ** Gentlemen 
think it a joke, but I assure them on the honoi 
gentleman, that it is a Tery serious affiur ; i 
hereby engage to return the money, if the byi 
ers do not acknowledge the cure, and that 
fairly entitled to the reward." The man sal 
— was furnished with a glass of watei^— the D 



THS DEFEATED DUELLIST. 



747 



produced a box of flattened black pills ; and to show 
that thej were perfectly innocent, affected to swal- 
low three or four himseLT. He then gave one to the 
man, who, after many wry faces hit into t/— started 
up, spitting and sputtering, and exclaimed, ** Why, 
hang me, S it isn^t cobbler*s wax !*' Tes, it is true 
tliat the Doctor had procured his pills at a neigh- 
boring cobbler's stall! 



** There,** said the Doctor, lifting up both hands, 
** Did anybody erer witness so sudden, bo miracu- 
lous a recovery f He^s evidently cured of lying, for 
he has told the truth instantly ; and as to memory I 
my good fellow, (said he, patting him on the back,) 
if you ever forget this, call on me, and Fll return 
you the money. 



•♦♦ 



THE DEFEATED DUELLIST. 



Air unlooked-for tendnationto an intended trag- 
edy, occurred a few years aoo, at Portsmouth. 
Gaptain Adamson was constantly complaining that 
his subaltern did not treat him with sufficient re- 
spect, but the more he pointed out the necessity for 
his being accosted with the defence due to his age 
and superior rank, the more waggishly &miliar would 
Ridley 8 hwg^uage and manner become. 

Adamson, for a considerable portion of his life, 
had held some post at an isolated comer of one of 
the West India islands, and being the " head 
bockra" while there, acquired an idea of his own 
importance, with which on his revisiting Britain he 
was reluctant to part. He was in the main, how- 
ever, a kindly disposed person, but very illiterate, 
tnd not overblest with natural sagacity, yet, de- 
spite the constant freedoms of Ridley, the captain 
was never so happy as when in his sub^s company. 

One day, nevertheless, the superior opined that 
hia lieutenant had carried the joke too far. The 
head and front of his offending was that of having 
called Adamson ** Jimmy,** in the presence of some 
ladies, at whose house the captain flattered himself 
be was a welcome guest, not only for his amusing 
conversation, but from his rank in the army. 

** If ever you presume to call me so again, I shall 
take serious notice of it,** he spluttered ; *' James 
would be quite bad enough, young sir, but Jimmy 

it is not to be borne — and Fll show you that I 

could, if I liked, bring you to a court-martial for 
QBng language to your superior unbecoming the 
character of an officer and a gentleman.** 

** Court-martial, indeed!** replied Ridley; "try 
it, my jolly old boy ; why, you are known only by 
the name of Jimmy, and hang me but I think you 
were christened Jimmy.** 

" I shall not bear this insolence ; you shall hear 
from me.** 

A friend of the captain*s waited on Ridley, in- 
forming him that his presence was expected on 
South-Sea Common, at the hour of eight on the fol- 
lowing morning. 

Berore the clock struck, Adamson, his second, 
and a surgeon, to show that the bold challenger was 
determined to bring matters to a sanguinary issue, 
were seen on the ground. The morning was raw 
and cold, a heavy sea-mist came rolling over the 
flat, much to the discomfort of one who had resided 
so long in the tropics. The trio remained at the 
post for an hour, yet Ridley came not ; then Adam- 
son, apologizing for having given his companions 
so much nnnecessary trouble, took leave of them, 
and made his way to the barracks, breathing vows 
of vengeance against the man whose conduct had 
forced nim to seek the only means left of insuring 
fiitnre respect, yet who had shrunk from giving him 
any satisfaction ; instead of which, the air and ex- 
ercise had given him a ferocious appetite, and his in- 
wird man betokened, by certain grumblings, that 



he required his morning meal with as little delay as 
possible. 

On entering his room, he found to his disag^e- 
able surprise that no preparations had been made 
for his breakfast, his grate was empty, all looked 
cheerless and uncomfortable. 

" What is the reason of this shameful neglect, 
sir?** he demanded from his servant. 

" Why, please, sir, Mr. Ridley^s man came and said 
as how I wasnH to get breakfast ready, but when 
you come in from your walk I was to give you this.** 

Adamson glanced at the note presented ; it was 
in Ridlcy*s lund. Some new insult, doubtless ; he 
dared not open it while even the eye vf the servant 
was on him. Desiring the man to quit the room, 
he broke the seal and read as follows : — 

^* Mt DsAa JiMMT — How could you think that I 
should be such a fool as to leave my warm bed to 
go out in the damp air for the purpose of shooting 
at you ? Lord love your dear stupid head I Did I 
establish my character in Spain for nothing? Ask 
any man in the service who knows me, whether I 
can't afford to refuse fighting with my James. I 
hope the sea-breezes have cooled your fever and made 
you hungry. I have a capital breakfast ready for 
you — tea, coffee, hot-rolls, broiled ham, eggs, and 
what I know you dote on — a red-herring stuffed 
with bird*8-eye peppers. Come along at once, for 
by the god of war, I shan*t wait for you half as 
long as you were fool enough to cool your heels ex- 
pecting me — ^likely. What I fire at my owm cap- 
tain ? my friend Jimmy ? Impossible. 

Tours as ever, Frxd. Ridlit. 

"P. S. — If you don't make haste, your West 
India favorite will be over-done.** 

Perfectly astonished at this epistle, half dying 
with emptiness, and really feeling a strong regard 
for the offender, Adamson did not think it neces- 
sary to deliberate, but went directly to his subal- 
tern's room, the savory steam of the viands urging 
his steps ; he tapped at the door. " Mr. Ridley," 
attempted Adamson ; ** this is very extraor(U- 
nary ^'* 

" Warm yourself, Jimmy.** 

** I really ought to be offended, but- 

" Eat, Jimmy." 

" You are so fond of a joke that 

" Drink, Jimmy.** 

He interrupted the captain's every speech by 
plying him with good things; and when he saw 
that the cravings of nature were satisfied, said to 
him in a tone of mock gravity. 

** Now, my dear Jimmy, take my advice ; keep 
this little piece of folly of yours entirely to your- 
self, or you will be laughed at more than ever.** 

The butt did not take counsel. It was to his 
unwisely detailing, that the garrison owed the diver- 
sion occasioned by the story of this defeated dueL 



n 



n 



BOV I WENT UP TB£ JUNO-FBAU, AND CAKE DOWK AQAIW. 



HOW I WENT UP THE JUNQ-FRAU, AND CAME DOWN AGAIN. 

(bt rteb urirms, rHiLoaoraiK, oahdim mwi.) 

[FmnUionprlntaDluy.irUahhaktpttMpiibllsitloiilBtba nOMi, oslr they dUnt put II In.] 



Aly SNA. — Detenmoed to Mcend tbe Jun^Frma maontain, irhich 1« 
touD; inuccHaibla and impossible to climb. DifficaltieB onlj add fuel t( 
the fire of a Britoa'a determiiiBtioD, Was asked what I should do when I \) 
got to the top. Replied, come dona agun. That'i what ever; body do«A 
who goeiup high hUls. Engaged guides, porters, eU. Provided ourselreB with 
neceasariei, luch a* ladders, umbrellas, sliates for the glai^iera, ropci, brandy, 
oamp stools, etc., and started. Quite a seDsation in tbe village, landlord of hotel 
with tean Id hisejei aiked me to pa; m; bill before I went. Didn't. Began tbe 
Mceutj gTODod became eteepiah, as ma; be aeen b; the illuitratioD. Hard votli 
SupDOea such a gradient would puule Hr. Blcpbeii»oQ. Talking of Stephenson, iL.,. .^ 
whole party pulSng and blowing like bo man; locomotiTea. Fulled out our camp-aloots \T 
Uld ttwd to ^t down on them. Gronnd so steep that we all lost onr balance, ami Mirnhlml ^) 
down to the bottom of tbe slope. Never ni 
ered ourselres up, asd at it again. Kei . _ __ 
former pontion, and getting higher, foimd the slope etill 
more eicewiTe. In &ct, it was a wonder to me bow wi 
t managed it at alL Approached tbe glacier region, and found 
'^ rather sotliih. Unjdeasant consequence of which is that the whole 
* r part; sink up to the neck In half-melted sludge. 
bling out again with 
we ft 




::^-4i^^ I 




feel chilly, and refresh - 

brand J. Being apprehenoiTe of the 
aralanches, we keep a sharp look-onl 
and dodge them. 



huge masse* of 
BOTing anov fell together, bat we watob otir cbauee and alip between then with ^ 
the greatest deiteritj. ^ 





Next danger ; 
• reallj dread- 
ful one. Arrire 
atafearAdpra- 
ciidce, tbe edge 
very much 
oTeriunglng 

tb*t it formed 
a apeciea of 
cave. Cdleda 
council of war. 
Council of war were for going home 
agun. Beboked them, and point- 
ing lo rough edges of the rock, pro- 
posed to tr; to crawl to summit 
■- work accordinglj. Danger- 



oni bnsineBB, but succeeded. On the top of this trmnendoui cliff, discovered 
a Ttet chasm or crevice, which appeared to bar all 
further progress. Guldealn despair. Much too wide 
to jump. Looked down. Crevice did not appear to 
have an; bottom in particular. Called another 
council of war, and at the same moment, ■ violent 
itquall of wind and snow sweeping b;, put up my um- 
brella, when, horrible to relate, the storm caught it, 
and lifted me into tbe air; the principal gtUde, who 
caught m; leg being carried np also, and in a moment wc wer 
hunted. In the ver; thick of the squall, and deafened hy Iti- bonl 
ing, across the abjss, and landed on the fUrther bank. Tb 
guides on the other aide now flung across the rope. Hhith wi 
caught, and fastened to a rock, and one of their numtier, uufoi 




tunatel; the heaviest, proceeded 

ins two, however, not bavhig stn.-^ ^^ .--t,..., .... 

fairl; pulled them into the crevice, so that we were obliged lo 






<Dgth (o support his "eight. 




drag up the whole three. Found that we wen now not br ^ -' 
ttom the summlL Saw it before ni tialng in a ahaip peak igalnst tbe bint 



HOW I WKirr UP thb JCHO-nuv, aitd ount dowk agaik. 



Mkj. More of (ha iteep 
■lope work. Guides U lut 
become >a drMdfoll; eibkiuted 
tbu I bkTe to drag ap the whole 
four. Torriblj bird work. No- 
thiaff but mj iplsadld muKuUr 
deTMOpmeBt would hsTe enabled 
me to go throagh with iL Ice de- 
cidedly too rough for akKting over, 
u may be Men bj the toUowing 

Cloae to the aummit, when anotber 
dreadfbl creTice with a high rock on the 
opponte aide threatens to stop our pnr- 
greM. Sunnounted ^e difflcnttj bj a dar- 
Dig grmaaatie feat, performed as follows : — 
gUnding on each other's sbonlden, the lowest 
man let bis bod; Incliiie orer tbe cliff, so that 




I, as highest, mehed the edge of 
ttu oppodte rock, and made fast 
Uie nqw to a pttjectlon, m in this 






Thus we bappQy got c 
treme peak of the Judk-I^ , 
three British oheera, wliile half ft duien eagles flew round and round 



Had no time to make Bcieotlflc 
eiperiments; hot aacertdned that 
the strength of alcohol is not di- 
tnlniahed in any aeosible degree 
by the extreme rkriScation of the 
air at great heights. 

fiarmg got up, prepared to go 

down again, an operation which 

*li performed In a mnch quicker style thui tbe other, Btarted down 

> i^s^itrj slope, and mladng our fooling, and not bdng able to atop 

MtKlTea, prooseded in this manner, down at i^aat SOOO feet, before 

'it npbyk ridge of rocks, composed of nncommonljh&rd 

granite, against which we rebounded like 

footballs. Up, howeTer, and at it again. 

Came to another difficulty ; found ourselves 

in a dreadful gullj or rkrlne, with no sort of 

exit bat a narrow cleft, down which poured 

• tremendous cataract, Into an swftil black 

and fbaming pool BOO feet below. There 

was nothiog for It bat to fling oarsetves 





torrent, allow ourselrcB to go orer the waterfall, and take our 
chance in the cauldron — which we did, in the manner shown below. The 
•iploit WIS quite dreadful, fh)m the roar of the water, snd tbe speed wSth 
which we were hurled through the air, and soused it least 100 fathoms (for 
I counted them) into the pool below, where, after we had reached tbe su^- 
Cte«, we were whirled about for at least an hour and s quarter before we 
managed to emerge. Found the experience I had picked up in tbe Holbom 
swimming baths of little avail In descending this cataract, but was oely loo 
happy to escape at any price. The rest ol the journey was comparatlTely 
easy, owing to a vctt happy thoagbt of mhie. Happening to see a roaodlsh- 
shaped avalanche roll past, remembered the globe tricks m the circus, wher* 
Signer Saduatioi kept his balance on a big wooden ball going down an Id- 




con^erationa of budnem t« 
The lupPT 
boji." Tl 



ins LAHPUOBTSB B 8T0BY. 

cHncd plane. Coimnimleated 
the notion to gnldw, w^led 
for the next ftTJuuMhs, Jump- 
ed on It u It piTil, mi 
went doirn like winldn, ■!- 
w>;i keei^g onr pUcei npon 
the top of the ball, which 
gradnall; increucd to luch 
a rixe, that it carried off 
MTeral chalets beneath qb. 
But that, of conrte, we had 
nothing to do with ; kecfung 
our places aa well aa Stdui- 
tlnl himaelf, until the huge 
inow-ball came to a full stop 
in the mldat of a pine forest, 
where we clambered out of 
the enow, and afler wveral 

houra' hard walking, reached the Tillage, where we were greeted by a 
deputation of the authorities, headed bj the hotel-keeper holding mv bill 
In hie hand, vho delivered an address of caugratnlation, and inquired 
when It would be conTenient for Die (o settle. Postponing, howcTer. 
Me of festirttj, a romantic rural /itt was got up in honor of oi 







The Seigimir du VUlagt b 



It Tirtuoiu — I waa particnlar about the last — I opened the ball. 




THE LAHFLIQHTEB'S BTOET. 



"If 70a talk of Hurphy and Frauds Hoore, 
gentlemen,'* ssid tbe lamplighter who was In the 
chair, " I^ean to saj that neither of 'em ever had 
any moie to do with the stars than Tom Oite had." 

"And wiiat iiad he to do with 'emf aaked the 
Umpllgbter who officiated m vice. 

"Nothing at all," replied the other; "Juat eiact- 
Ij nothing at all" 

"Dojou mean to aaj tdu don't believe in Hur- 
phy, then V demanded the lamplighter who liad 
opened the diacusuon. 

" I mean to aay that I believe in Tom Grig," re- 
plied the chairman. " Whether I beUeve in Mnr- 
phy or not, Is a matter between me and m; con- 
Mlence ; and whether Uur^y tMlievea In tdmaelf 
or not, is a matter between hfaa and Alt aonadence. 
Oentlemen, I drink your beaUu." 



The lamplighter who did llie company this honor, 
was seated in the chimney comer of a certun tav- 
ern, which has been, time out of mind, tbe lamp- 
lighter's Bouse of Call. Be aat in the midat of a 
circle of lamplighten, and waa the cacique or chief 
of the tribe. 

If any of oar reader* have had the good fortune 
to behold a lampligfater'a ftaneral, they will not tie 
surprised to learn that lamplighter* are a strange 
and primitive people ; that they rigidly adhere to 
old ceremonies and cnatoms which have been liand- 
ed down among them from btber to ton since the 
lint pabHc lamp was lighted oat of doon ; that 
they tntennarry, and betrolb their children in 
infuiov i that thej enter Into do ploti or conipba- 
dea (for Wbo ever heard of a tnltoroM lamp- 
llriiter f ) 1 that tliey commit no orimes aff]^ikit lot 



■s 



„ 1. 



^ 

r 



\ 



OH 



< 



'. m 






< 



V 



. X 



THE LAMPLIGHTEB8 STORY. 



151 



laws of their country fthere being no instance of a 
murderous or burglarious lamplighter) ; that they 
are, in short, notwithstanding their apparently 
Tolatile and restless character, a highly moral and 
reflectlTe people : having among themselves as 
many traditional observances as the Jews, and 
being, as a body, if not as old as the hills, at least 
as old as the streets. It is an article of their creed 
that the first faint glimmering of true civilization 
shone in the first street light maintained at the 
public expense. They trace their existence and 
high position in the public esteem, in a direct line 
to the heathen mythology ; and bold that the his- 
tory of Prometheus himself is but a pleasant fable, 
whereof the true hero is a lamplighter, 

** Gentlemen,** said the lamplighter in the chair, 
" I drink your healths.** 

" And perhaps, sir,** said the vice, holding up his 
glass, and rising a little way off his seat and sitting 
down again, in token that he recognized and re- 
turned the compliment, *' perhaps you will add to 
that condescension by telling us who Tom Grig was, 
and how he came to be connected in your mind 
with Francis Moore, Physician.** 

** Hear, hear, hear!** cried the lamplighters 
generally. 

'^Tom Grig, gentlemen,** said the chairman, 
" was one of us ; and it happened to him as it don*t 
often happen to a public character in our line, that 
he had his what-you-may-cali-it cast** 

** His head?*' said the vice. 

** No,** replied the chairman, ** not his head.** 

**His face, perhaps ?** said the vice. *^No, not 
his face.*' "His lees?** " No, not his legs.'* Nop 
yet his arms, nor his hands, nor his feet, nor his 
chest, all of which were severally suggested. 

" His nativity, perhaps f * 

" That*8 it,** said the chairman, awakening from 
his thoughtfiil attitude at the suggestion. "His 
nativity. That's what Tom had cast, gentlemen.*' 

" In plaster ?** asked the vice. 

" I don*t rightly know how it*8 done," returned 
the chairman, " but I suppose it was.** 

And there he stopped, as if that were all he had 
to say ; whereupon there arose a murmur among 
the company, which at length resolved itself into a 
request, conveyed through the vice, that he would 
go on. This beins exactly what the chairman 
wanted, he mused for a little time, performed that 
igreeable ceremony which b popularly termed 
wetting one's whistle, and went on thus : 

" Tom Grig, gentlemen, waa, as I have said, one 
of us ; and I may go further, and say he was an 
ornament to us, and such a one as only the good 
old times of oil and cotton could have produced. 
Tom's family, gentlemen, were all Uimplighters." 

" Not the ladies, I hope ?" asked the vice. 

"They had talent enough for it, sir,** rejoined 
the chahman, " and would have been, but for the 
prejudices of society. Let women have their rights, 
sir, and the females of Tom's family would have 
been every one of 'em in office. But that emanci- 
pation hasn't come yet, and hadn't then, and con- 
sequently they confined themselves to the bosoms 
of their families, cooked the dinners, mended the 
clothes, minded the children, comforted their hus- 
bands, and attended to the housekeeping generally. 
It's a hard thing upon the women, gentlemen, that 
they are limited to such a sphere of action as this ; 
very hard. 

" I happen -to know all aboat Tom, gentlemen, 



from the circumstance of his uncle by the mother's 
side, having been my particular friend. His (that's 
Tom's uncle's) fate was a melancholy one. Gas was 
the death of him. When it was first talked of, he 
laughed. He wasn't angry ; he laughed at the cre- 
dulity of human nature. * They might as well 
talk*, he says, * of laying on an everlasting succes- 
sion of glow-worms ; and then he laughed again, 
partly at his joke, and partly at poor humanity. 

"In course of time, however, the thing got 
ground, the experiment was made, and they lighted 
up Pall Mall. Tora*s uncle went to see it. I've 
heard that he fell off his ladder fourteen times that 
night from weakness, and that he would certainly 
have gone on falling till he killed himself, if hiB 
last tumble hadn*t been into a wheel-barrow which 
was going his way, and humanely took him home. 
' I foresee in this,* says Tom*s uncle faintly, and 
taking to his bed as he spoke — * I foresee in this,' 
he says, Hhe breaking up of our profession. 
There's no more going the rounds to trim by day- 
light, no more dribbling down of the oil on the hats 
and bonnets of ladies and gentlemen when one 
feels in spirits. Any low fellow can light a gas- 
lamp. And it*8 all up.* In this state of mind, he 
petitioned the government for — I want a word 
again, gentlemen — ^what do you call that which 
they give to people when it*8 found out, at last, 
that theyVe never been of any use, and have been 
paid too much for doing nothing ?** 

"Compensation?** suggested the vice. 

'* That's it,*' said the chairman. " Compensation. 
They didn*t eive it him though, and then he got 
very fond of his country all at once, and went 
about saying that gas was a death-blow to his na- 
tive land, and that it was a plot of the radicals to 
ruin the country and destroy the oil and cotton 
trade for ever, and that the whales would go and 
kill themselves privately, out of eheer spite and 
vexation at not being caught. At last, he got right 
down cracked ; called his tobacco-pipe a gas-pipe ; 
thought his tears were lamp-oil ; and went on with 
all manner of nonsense of that sort, till one night 
he hung himself on a lamp-iron in Saint Martin*a 
Lane, and there was an end of him, 

" Tom loved him, gentlemen, but he survived it. 
He shed a tear over his grave, got very drunk, 
spoke a funeral oration that night in the watch- 
house, and was fined five shillings for it, in the 
rooming. Some men are none the worse for this 
sort of thing. Tom was one of *em. He went that 
very afternoon on a new beat : as clear in his head, 
and as free from fever as Father Mathew himself. 

" Tom*s new beat, gentlemen, was — ^I can*t exact- 
ly say where, for that he*d never tell ; but I know 
it was in a quiet part of town, where there was 
some queer old houses. I have always had it in 
my head that it must have been somewhere near 
Canonbury Tower in Islington, but that's a matter 
of opinion. Whereever it was, he went upon it, 
with a bran new ladder, a white bat, a brown hol- 
land jacket and trowsers, a blue neck-kerchief, and 
a sprig of full-blown double wall-flower in his but- 
ton-hole. Tom was always genteel in his appear- 
ance, and I have heard from the best judges, that 
if he had left his ladder at home that afternoon, 
you might have look him for a lord. 

"He was always merry, was Tom, and such a 
singer, that if there was any encouragement for 
native talent, he*d have been at the opera. He 
was on his ladder, lighting his first lamp, and sing- 



THB I.AMPUOHTKE 8 BTOBr, 



•trike five, and euddenljseeaui old gentle 

k lelescope in his hand, throw up k window and 

look at bim very hard. 

" Tom didn't know what could be passing ia Ibii 
old genlleinui'B mind. He thought it likelj enough 
that he might be sajing withm lumself, 'Hcre'i a 
Dew lamplighter — & good-looking 70ung fellow — 
■hall I BtKud Bomething to drinki' Thinking this 
poaaible, he keeps quite BtUl, prelendiag lobever; 
pttrticulBr about the wick, and looks at (he old 'gen- 
tleman sidenajs, seeming to lake no notice of 
him. 

" Gentlemen, he was one of the strangest and 
nuMt mjBteriouB-looking files that ever Tom clapped 
his e^es on- He was dressed all slorenlj and un< 
tidj, in s great gowD of a kind of bed-furniture 

Eittern, with a cap of the same on bis head ; and a 
ng old flapped waistcoat; with no braces, no 
Brings, very few buttons — in short, with hardlj 
■DJ of those artificial contriranees that hold society 
toge^er. Tom knew bj these ligna, and by his 
not being shared, and by bis not being oTer-clean, 
aod by a sort of wisdom not quite awake, in his 
lace, that he was a scientific old gentleman. He 
often told me that If he could hare conceived the 
poiribility of the whole Royal Society beiog boiled 
down into one man, he should hare sud the old 
gentleman's body was that Body. 

"The old gentleman claps Uie telescope to his 
eje, looks alT round, sees nobody else in ught. 
Mares at Tom again, «iid cries out rery loud : 

>"Hal-loa!' 




" ' HoUos, nr,' says Tom from the ladder ; ' and 
hoUoa again, if you come to that.' 

"'Here's an extraordinary falfllment,' says the 
old gentleman, ' of a prediction of the plsDets.' 

" ' Is there ?' says Tom, ' I'm rery glad to hear it-' 

"'TouBg man,' says the old gentleman, 'jou 
dont know me.' 



IBg. 

" ' 1 read,' cries Che old gentleman, without tak- 
iog any notice of this politeness on Tom's part — 
'I read what's going to happen, in the stars.' 

"Tom thanked him for the infonuation, and 
begged to know If any thing particular was going 
to happen in the stars, in the course of a week or 
so ; but the old gentleman, correcting him, eipUun- 
ed that he read in the stars what was going to hap- 
pen on dry land, and that he was acquainted with 
alt the celestial bodies. 

" ' I hope they're all well, sir,' iajs Tom, — ' every 

"'Hush!' cries the old gentleman. 'I bare 
consulted the book of Fate with rare and wonder- 
ful success. 1 am rented in the great sciences of 
astrology and astronomy. In my house here, I 
have every description of apparatus for obserring 
the course and motion of the planets. Six months 
ago, I derived from Ihia source, the knowledge that 
precisely as the clock struck five this aflemoon, a 
stranger would present himself — Che destined hus- 
band of my young and lovelv niece — in reality of 
illustrious and high descent, but whose birth would 
be eareloped in uncertainty and mystery. Don't 
tell me yours isn't,' says the old gentleman, who 
was in such a hurrr to speak that he couldn't get 
the words out fast enough, ' for I know better.' 

"Gentlemen, Tom was so astonished when he 
heard him say this, that he could hardly keep his 
footiog on the ladder, and found it neuessary to 
bold on by the lamp-post. There was a mystery 
about his birth. His mother had always admitted 
it. Tom bad never known who was his father, and 
some people had gone so ftr as to say that even (A« 
was in doubt. 

"While be was in this state of amazement, the 
old gentleman leaves the window, hursts onC of the 
house-door, shakes the ladder, and Tom, like a ripe 
pumpkin, comes sliding down into bis arms. 

"'Let me embrace you,' he says, folding his 
arms about him, and nearly lighting up hit old bed- 
furniture gown at Tom's link. 'You're a man of 
noble aspect. Every thing combines to prove the 
accuracy of my observations. You have had mys- 
terious promptings within you,' he says ; ' I know 
you have had whisperings of greatness, ehT' he 
sayi. 

" ' I think I have,' says Tom — Tom was one of 
those who can persuade themselves to any thing 
they like—' I have often thought t wasn't the 
small beer 1 was taken for.' 

"'You were right,' cries the old gentlemsn, 
hugging him again. ' Come lo. H; niece awaits 

" 'la the yonng lady tolerable good-looking, ^f 
says Tom, hanging fire rather, as be thought of her 
playing (he piano, and knowing French, and being 
up to all manner of accomplishments. 

" ' She's beautiful I' cries the old gentleman, who 
was in such a terrible bustle that he was all in a 
perspiration. ' She has a graceful carriage, an ex- 
quisite shape, a sweet voice, a countenance beam- 
ing with animation and expression ; and the eye,' 
he says, rubbing bis hands, ' of a startled &wn. 

"Tom supposed this might mean, what was 
called among his circle of acquaintance, ' a game 
eye;' and, with a view to this defect, inquiiad 
whether the yonng lady had any cash. 



THE LAMPLIOHTER d 8T0BT. 



768 



***She has fire thousand pounds,* cries the old 
genUeman. * Bat what of that ? what of that ? A 
word in your ear. I*m in search of the philoso- 
pher's stone. I have very nearly found it — not 
quite. It turns every thing to gold ; that's its prop- 
erty.' * 

*^ Tom naturally thought it must have a deal of 
property; and said that when the old gentleman 
did get it, he hoped he'd be careful to keep it in 
the umily. 

** * Certainly,' he says, * of course. Five thousand 
pounds ! What's five thousand pounds to us ? 
What's five millions ?' he savs. * What's five thou- 
sand millions f Money will be nothing to us. We 
shall never be able to spend it fast enough.' 

" * We'll try what we can do, sir,' says Tom. 

** ' We will,' says the old gentleman. * Your 
name?' 

" * Grig,' says Tom. 

'*The old gentleman embraced him again, very 
tight ; and without speaking another word, dragged 
him into the house in such an excited manner, that 
it was as much as Tom could do to take his link 
and ladder with him, and put them down in the 
passage. 

** Gentlemen, if Tom hadn't been always remark- 
able for his love of truth, I think you would still 
have believed him when he said that all this was 
like a dream. There is no better way for a man to 
find out whether he really is asleep or awake, than 
calUog for something to eat. If he's in a dream, 
sentlemen, hell find something wanting in the 
flavor, depend upon it. 

" Tom explained his doubts to the old gentleman, 
and said if there was any cold meat in the house, it 
would ease his mind very much to test himself at 
once. The old gentleman ordered up a venison 
pie, a small ham, and a bottle of very old Madeira. 
At the first mouthful of pie, and the first glass of 
vine, Tom smacks his lips and cries out, * Fm 
awake — wide awake *,' and to prove that he was so, 
gentlemen, he made an end of 'em both. 

**When Tom had finished his meal (which he 
never spoke of afterwards without tears in his eyes), 
the old gentleman hugs him again, and says, * No- 
ble stranger! let us visit my young and lovely 
niece.' Tom, who was a little elevated with the 
wine, repUes, * The noble stranger is agreeable I' 
At which words the old gentleman took him by the 
hand, and led him to the parlor; crying as he open- 
ed the door, * Here is Mr. Grig, the favorite of the 
planets!' 

**I will not attempt a description of female 
beauty, gentlemen, for every one of us has a model 
of his own that suits his own taste best. In this 
parlor that I'm speaking of, there were two young 
kdies ; and if every gentleman present will imagine 
two models of his own in their places, and will be 
kind enough to polish 'em up to the very highest 
pitch of perfection, he will then have a faint con- 
ception of their uncommon radiance. 

** Besides these two young ladies, there was their 
waiting-woman, that under any other circumstances 
Tom would have looked upon as a Venus ; and be- 
sides her, there was a tall, thin, dismal-faced young 
gentleman, half man and half boy, dressed in a 
childish sidt of clothes very much too short in the 
legs and arms; and looking, according to Tom's 
comparison, like one of the wax juveniles from a 
tailor's door, grown up and run to seed. Now, 
this youngster stamped his foot upon the ground, 



and looked very fierce at Tom, and Tom looked 
fierce at him — for to tell the truth, gentlemen, 
Tom more than half suspected that when they en- 
tered the room he was kissing one of the young 
ladies ; and for any thing Tom knew, you observe, it 
might be his young lady — which was not pleasant. 

" * Sir,' says Tom, * before we proceed any further, 
will you have the goodness to inform me who this 
young Salamander' — ^Tom called him that for aggra- 
vation, you perceive, gentlemen — ' who this young 
Salamander may be ?' 

** * That, Mr. Grig,' says the old gentleman, * is 
my little boy. He was christened Galileo Isaac 
Newton Flamstead. Don't mind him. He is a 
mere child.' 

" * A very fine child, too,' says Tom — still aggra- 
vating, you'll observe — * of his age, and as good as 
fine, 1 have no doubt. How do you do, my man f 
with which kind and patronizing expressions, Tom 
reached up to pat him on the head, and quoted two 
lines about little boys, from Doctor Watts' Hymns, 
which he had learned at a Sunday School. 

" It was very easy to see, gentlemen, by this 
youngster's frowning, and by the waiting-maid's 
tossing her head and turning up her nose, and by 
the young ladies turning their backs and talking to- 
gether at the other end of the room, that nobody 
but the old gentleman took very kindly to the 
noble stranger. Indeed, Tom plainly hoard the 
waiting-woman say of her master, that so far from 
being able to read the stars as he pretended, she 
didn't believe he knew his letters in 'em, or at best 
that he had got further than words in one syllable ; 
but Tom, not minding this (for he was in spirits 
after the Madeira), looks with an agreeable air to- 
wards the young ladies, and kissing his hand to 
both, says to the old gentleman, ' Which is which V 

*' * This,' says the old gentleman, leading out the 
handsomest, if one of 'em could possibly be said to 
be handsomer than the other — * this is my niece. 
Miss Fannv Barker.' 

** * If you'll permit me. Miss,' says Tom, * being a 
noble stranger and a favorite of the planets, I will 
conduct myself as such.' With these words, he 
kisses the young lady in a very affable way, turns 
to the old gentleman, slaps hnu on the back, and 
says, * When's it to come off, my buck?" 

** The young lady colored so deep, and her lip 
trembled so much, gentlemen, that Tom really 
thought she was going to cry. But she kept her 
feelings down, and turning to the old gentleman, 
says, * Dear uncle, though you have the absolute 
disposal of my hand and fortune, and though you 
mean well in disposing of 'em thus, I ask you 
whether you don't think this is a mistake ? Don't 
you think, dear uncle,' she says, *■ that the stars 
must be in error ? Is it not possible that the comet 
may have put 'em out ?' 

'* * The stirs,' says the old gentleman, * couldn't 
make a mistake if they tried. Emma,' he says to 
the other young lady. 

'* * Yes, papa,' says she. 

** * The same day that makes your cousin Mrs. 
Grig, will unite you to the gifled Mooney. No re- 
monstrance — no tears. Now, Mr. Grig, let me 
conduct you to that hallowed ground, that philo- 
sophical retreat, where my friend and partner, the 
gifted Mooney of whom I have just now spoken, is 
even now pursuing those discoveries which shall 
enrich us with the precious metal, and make us mas- 
ters of the world. Come, Mr. Grig,' he says. 



754 



THE LAMPLIOHTEB'S 8T0BT. 



***With all my heart, nr/ replies Tom; 'and 
luck to the gifted Mooney, say I — ^not bo much on 
his account as for our worthy seWes !* With this 
sentiment, Tom kissed his hand to the ladies again, 
and followed him out ; having the gratification to 
perceive, as he looked back, that they were all 
hanging on by the arms and legs of Ofdileo Isaac 
Newton Flamstead, to prevent him from following 
the noble stranger, and tearing him to pieces. 

** * Gentlemen, Tom*s father-in-law that was to 
be, took him bv the hand, and having lighted a 
little lamp, led him across a paved court-yard at 
the back of the house, into a very large, dark, 
gloomy room : filled with all manner of bottles, 
globes, books, telescopes, crocodiles, alligators, and 
other scientific instruments of every kind. In the 
centre of this room was a stove or furnace, with 
what Tom called a pot, but which in my opinion 
was a crucible, in full boil. In one comer was a 
sort of ladder leading through the roof; and up 
this ladder the old gentleman pointed, as he said in 
a whisper : 

** * The observatory. Mr. Mooney is even now 
watching for the precise time at which we are to 
come into all the riches of the earth. It will be 
necessary for he and I, alone in that silent place, 
to cast your nativity before the hour arrives. Put 
the day and minute of your birth on this piece of 
paper, and leave the rest to me.* 

** * You don*t mean to say,* says Tom, doing as 
he was told and giving him back the paper, * that 
I'm to wait here long, do you ? It^s a precious dis- 
mal place.' 

** * Hush t* says the old gentleman, * it^s hallowed 
ground. Farewell I' 

" * Stop a minute,' says Tom, * what a hurry 
you're in. What's in that large bottle yonder V 

** * It*s a child with three heads,* says the old 
gentleman ; * and every thing else in proportion. 

" * Why don*t you throw him away V says Tom. 
*What do you keep such unpleasant things here 
for?* 

*** Throw him away!* cries the old gentleman. 
*We use him constantly in astrology. IIe*B a 
charm.' 

*^ * I shouldn't have thought it,' says Tom, * from 
his appearance. Must you go, I say ?' 

**The old gentleman makes him no answer, but 
climbs up the ladder in a greater bustle than ever. 
Tom looked after his legs till there was nothing of 
him left, and then sat down to wait ; feeling (so he 
used to say) as comfortable as if he was going to 
be made a freemason, and they were heating the 
pokers. 

^' Tom waited so long, gentlemen, that he began 
to think it must be getting on for midnight at least, 
and felt more dismai and lonely than ever he had 
done in all his life. He tried every means of whil- 
ing away the time, but it never had seemed to 
move so slow. First he took a nearer view of the 
child with three heads, and thought what a comfort 
it must have been to its parents. Then he looked 
up a long telescope which was pointed out of the 
window, but saw nothing particular, in consequence 
of the stopper being on at the other end. Then he 
came to a skeleton in a glass case, labelled, * Skele- 
ton of a gentleman — ^Prepared by Mr. Mooney,* — 
which made him hope that Mr. Mooney might not 
be in the habit of preparing gentlemen that way 
without their own consent. A hundred times, at 
least, he looked into the pot where they were boiling 



the philosopher's stone down to the proper consist- 
ency, and wondered whether it was nearly done. 
*When it is,* thinks Tom, TU send out for six- 
penn*orth of sprats, and turn 'em into gold fish 
for a first experiment.' Besides which, he made 
up his mind, gentlemen, to have a country-house 
and a park ; and to plant a bit of it with a* double 
row of gas-lamps a mile long, and go out every 
night with a French-polished mahogany ladder, and 
two servants in livery behind him, to light 'em for 
his own pleasure. 

** At length and at last, the old gentleman's legs 
appeared upon the steps leading through the roof, 
and he came slowly down : bringing along with 
him the gifted Mooney. This Mooney, gentlemen, 
was even more scientific in appearance than his 
friend ; and had, as Tom often decUred upon his 
word and honor, the dirtiest fiice we can possibly 
know of, in this imperfect state of existence. 

** Gentlemen, you are all aware that if a scientific 
man isn't absent in his mind, he's of no good at alL 
Mr. Mooney was so absent, that when the old gen- 
tleman said to him, * shake hands with Mr. Grig,* 
he put out his leg. * Here's a mind, Mr. Grig!' 
cries the old gentleman in a rapture. ^Here's 
philosophy! Here's rumination! Don't disturb 
him,* he says, ^ for this is amazing !' 

*^Tom had no wish to disturb him, having 
nothing particular to say ; but he was so uncom- 
monly amazing, that the old gentleman got impa- 
tient, and determined to give him an electric shock 
to bring him to — ' for you must know, Mr. Grig,' 
he says, * that we always keep a strongly charged 
battery, ready for that purpose.' These means 
being resorted to, gentlemen, the gifted Mooney 
revived with a loud roar, and he no sooner came 
to himself, than both he and the old gentleman 
looked at Tom with compassion, and shed tears 
abundantly. 

*' * My dear friend,' says the old gentleman to the 
Gifted, * prepare him.' 

" * I say,' cries Tom, falling back, * none of that, 
you know. No preparing by Mr. Mooney, if you 
please.' 

*' *Alas!' replies the old gentleman, *you don't 
understand us. My friend, inform him of his fate. 
—I can't.' 

** The Gifted mustered up his voice, after many 
efforts, and informed Tom that his nativity had 
been carefully cast, and he would expire at exactly 
thirty-five minutes, twenty-seven seconds, and five- 
sixths of a second, past nine o'clock, a. m., on that 
day two months. 

^* Gentlemen, I leave you to judge what were 
Tom's feelings at this aimouncement, on the eve of 
matrimony and endless riches. *■ I think,' he says 
in a trembling way, * there must be a mistake in 
the working of that sum. Will you do roe the fa- 
vor to cast It up again ?* — * There is no mistake,' re- 
plies the old gentleman, *■ it is confirmed by Francis 
Moore, Physician. Here is the prediction for to- 
morrow two months.' And he showed him the 
page, where sure enough were these words — * The 
decease of a great person may be looked for, about 
this time.' 

*** Which,' says the old gentleman, *is clearly 
you, Mr. Grig.' 

** * Too clearly,' cries Tom, rinking into a chair, 
and giving one hand to the old gentleman, and 
one to the Gifted. * The orb of day has set on 
Thomaa Grig for evert* 



TUE LAMPLIOUTEU 8 8TORT. 



756 



^ At this affecting remark, the Gifted shed tears 
, and the other two mingled their tears with 



his, in a kind — ^if I may use the exprcssion^-of 
Mooney and Co.*s entire. But the old gentleman 
recovering first, observed that this was only a rea- 
son for hastening the marriage, in order that Tom^s 
distinguished race might be transmitted to posterity ; 
and requesting the Gifted to console Mr. Grig during 
his temporary absence, he withdrew to settle the 
preliminaries with his niece immediately. 

** And now, gentlemen, a yery extraordinary and 
remarkable occurrence took place ; for as Tom sat 
in a melancholy way in one chair, and the Gifted 
sat in a melancholy way in another, a couple of 
doors were thrown violently open, the two young 
ladies rushed in, and one knelt down in a loving at- 
titude at Tom^s feet, and the other at the Giftcd*s. 
So far, perhaps, as Tom was concerned — as he used 
to say — ^you will say there was nothing strange in 
this ; but you will be of a different opinion when 
you understand that Tom^s young lady was kneeling 
to the Gifted, and the Gifted*s youug ludy was 
kneeling to Tom. 

** * H^oa I stop a minute !* cries Tom ; * here's 
a mistake. I need condoling with by sympathizing 
woman, under my afflicting circumstances ; but 
we're out in the figure. Change partners, Mooney.' 
*' * Monster !' cries Tom's young lady, clinging to 
the Gifted. 
** * Miss I' says Tom. * Is that your manners V 
** * I abjure thee V cries Tom's young lady. * I 
renounce thee. I never will be thine. Thou,' she 
says to the Gifted, * art the object of my first and 
all-engrosfflng passion. Wrapt in thy sublime 
Tisions, thou hast not perceived my love ; but, 
driven to despair, I now shake off the woman, and 
avow it. Oh, cruel, cruel man I' AVith which re- 
proach, she laid her head upon the Gifted's breast, 
and put her arms about him in the tendcrest man- 
ner possible, gentlemen. 

*' * And I,' says the other young lady, in a sort of 
ecstasy that miade Tom start, — ^ I hereby abjure 
my chosen husband too. Hear me, Goblin !' — this 
was to the Gifted-—* Hear me ! I hold thee in the 
deepest detestation. The maddening interview of 
this one night has filled my soul with love — but not 
for thee. It is for thee, for thee, young man,' she 
cries to Tom. *As Monk Lewis finely observes, 
Thomas, Thomas, I am thine ; Thomas, Thomas, 
thou art mine: thine for ever, mine for ever!' 
With which words, she became very tender like- 
wise. 

**Tom and the Gifted, gentlemen, as you may 
believe, looked at each other in a very awkward 
manner, and with thoughts not at all compliment- 
ary to the two young ladies. As to the Gifted, 
I have heard Tom say often, that he was certain he 
was in a fit, and had it inwardly. 

** *■ Speak to me ! oh, speak to me !' cries Tom's 
young lady to the Gifted. 

" 'I don't want to speak to anybody,' he says, 
finding his voice at last, and trying to push her 
away. * I think I had better go. Vm — I'm fright- 
ened,' he says, looking about as if he had lost some- 
thing. 

** * Not one look of love !* she cries. *■ Hear me, 
while I declare—' 

** * I don't know how to look a look of love,' he 
says, all in a maze. * Don't declare any thing. I 
don't want to hear anybody.' 
^ * That's right V cnes the old gentleman (who it 



seems had been listening). * That's right I Don't 
hear her. Emma shall marry you to-morrow, my 
friend, whether she likes it or not, and the shall 
marry Mr. Grig.' 

** Gentlemen, these words were no sooner out of 
his mouth, than Galileo Isaac Newton Flamstead 
(who it seems had been listening too) darts in, and 
spinning round and round, like a young giant's top, 
cries, *■ Let her. Let her. I'm fierce ; Tm furious. 
I give her leave. I'll never marry anybody after 
this — never. It isn't safe. She is the falsest of the 
false,' he cries, tearing his hair and gnashing his 
teeth ; * and I'll live and die a bachelor.' 

" * The little boy,' observed the Gifted gravely, 

* albeit of tender years, has spoken wisdom. I have 
been led to the contemplation of woman-kind, and 
will not adventure on the troubled waters of matri- 
monv.' 

" * What !' says the old gentleman, * not marry my 
daughter! AVon't you, Mooney? Not if I make 
her ? Won't you ? Won t you V 

** * No,' says Mooney, * I won't. And if anybody 
asks me any more, I'll run away, and never come 
back again.' 

"/Mr. Grig,' says the old gentleman, *the stars 
must be obeyed. You have not changed your 
mind because of a little girlish folly — eh, Mr. 
Grig ?' 

** Tom, gentlemen, had had his eyes about him, 
and was pretty sure that all this was a device and 
trick of the waiting-maid, to put him off his incli- 
nation. He had seen her hiding aud skipping about 
the two doors, and had observed that a very little 
whispering from her pacified the Salamander direct- 
ly. ' So,' thinks Tom, *■ this is a plot — but it won't 
fit.' 

" * Eh, Mr. Grig V says the old gentleman. 

4 4 4 wjiy^ gi|.^» gay 8 Tom, pointing to the crucible, 

* if the soup's nearly ready — * 

** * Another hour beholds the consummation of 
our labors,' returned the old gentleman. 

** ' Very good,' says Tom, with a mournful air. 
*■ It's only for two months, but I may as well be the 
richest man in the world even for that time. I'm 
not particular. I'll take her, sir. YXi take her.' 

** The old gentleman was in a rapture to find Tom 
still in the same mind, and drawing the young lady 
towards him by little and little, was joining their 
hands by main force, when all of a sudden, gentle- 
men, the crucible blows up with a great crash; 
everybody screams ; the room is filled with smoke ; 
and Tom, not knowing what may happen next, 
throws himself into a fancy attitude, and says, 

* Come on, if you are a man !' without addressing 
himself to anybody in particular. 

" * The labors of fifteen years I' says the old gen- 
man, clasping his hands and looking down upon 
the Gifted, who was saving the pieces, * are destroy- 
ed in an instant!' — And I am told, gentlemen, by- 
the-bye, that this same philosopher s stone would 
have been discovered a hundred times at least, to 
speak within bounds, if it wasn't for the one unfor- 
tunate circumstance that the apparatus always 
blows up, when it's on the very point of succeeding. 

*^ Tom turns pale when he hears the old gentle* 
man expressing himself to this unpleasant effect, 
and stammers out that if it's quite agreeable to all 
parties, he would like to know exactly what has 
happened, and what change has really taken place 
in the prospects of that company. 

" * We have failed for the present, Mr. Grig,' says 



THB LAUPLIGHTEBS BTOBT. 




the old g»Dtli>man, wiping bia forehead, ' and I re- 
gret it the more, because I have in fact iavested 
my niece's five thouMind pounds [a Ibis |;lorious 
apeculation. But don't be cast down,' be (lays, 
•nxioualy — ' in another fifteen veai^ Mr. Grig—' 

"Oh!' cries Tom, letting the young lady's band 
tail 'Were the stars Tcr; poailive about this 



'fori 



' ' They n 



go, s 



' ' No vhat? ' criea the old gentleman. 

" ' Go, air,' SftYB Tom fiercely. 'I forbid the 

banna.' And with these words — wbich are the 

very words he uwd — lie sat himself down in a 

chair, and, laying his head upon the table, thought 

that day two months. 

" Tom always said, gentlemen, that that waiting- 
mud was the artfulleat minx he had ever seen; 
and he left it in writing in this country when he 
went to colonize abroad, that he won certain in hia 
own mind she and the Salamander had blown up 
the pbilosopher's stone on purpose, and to uut bim 
ont of bis property. 1 believe Tom woa in the 
rigbt, gentlemen ; bnt whether or no, alie comes 
forward at tbia point, and says, ' May I speak, sir •' 
and the old gentleman answering ' Yes, you may,' 
■he goes on to say that ' the ftara are no doubt 
quite right in ererr respect, but Tom is not the 
man.' And she says. ' Doti't you remember, fir, 
that when the clock struck five tbia afternocm, yon 
gave Uaater Galileo a mp on the bead with your 
telescope, and told him to get out of the way ?' 
'Yea I do,' says the old gentleman. 'Then,' aays 
the waiting maid, ' I any he's the ban, and the pro- 
phecy is fulfilled.' The old gentletaian staggers at 
thb, B8 if somebody hod hit him a blow on the 
chest, and cries, ' He ! why, he's a boy !' Upon 
that, gentlemen, the Salamander enea out that he'll 
be twenty-one neit Lady-day ; and coajplBins that 
his father has always been so busy with the sun 
round which (he earth reroWes, that he has never 



taken any noliee of the son that revoKes round 
him ; and that he basn't had a new suit of clothes 
fince he was fourteen ; and that he wa.in't even 
taken out of nankeen frocka and trowscrs till he 
was unpleasant in 'em ; and touches on a good 
many more family matters to the same purpose. 
To make short of a long story, gentlemen, they all 
tallc together, and cry together, and remind the 
old gentleman that as to the noble family, his own 
grandfather would have been a lord mayor if he 
hadn't died at a dinner the year before; and they 
show him by all kinds of arguments that if the 
cousitis are married, the prediction comes true 
every way. At last, the old gentleman, being quite 
convinced, gives in ; and joins their hands ; and 
leaves bis daughter to marry anybody she likes ; 
and Ihey are all well pleased] and the Gifted u 
well as any of them. 

" In the middle of this little family party, gentle- 
men, ails Tom all the while, aa miserable aa yoD 
like. But, when every thing else is arranged, the 
old gentleman's daughter says, that their strange 
conduct was a little device of the waiting-maid's 10 
disgust the lovers he had chosen for 'em, and will 
he forgive her* and if he will, perhaps he might 
even find her a husband — and when she saya that, 
she looks uncommon hard at Tom. Then the wait- 
ing maid nays that, oh dear ! she couldn't abear 
Mr. Grig nhould think she wanted him to marry 
her; and (hat she had even gone so far aa to re- 
liise tbe last lamplighter, who was now a literary 
cliaracter (having set up as a bill-sticker ;) and that 
she hoped Mr. Grig would not suppose abe waa on 
her Inat legs by any means, for the baker was very 
strong in hia attentions at that moment, and ■■ to 
the butcher, he waa frantic. And I don't know 
how much more ahe might have said, gentlemen 
(for, as you know, tbia kind of young women are 
rare ones to talk), If the old gentleman hadn't cut 
in suddenly, and asked Tom it he'd have her, with 
ten poimda to recompense bim for his loss of time 
and disappointment, uidasakind of bribe to keep 
tbe story secret. 



THE OAB-DRIVEB AND Tint MAN ABOUT TOWN. 



787 



** * It don't much matter, sir/ says Tom, *I ain't 

lOTi^ for this world. Eight weeks of marriage, 

^P^cially with this young woman, might reconcile 

''^^ to my fate. I think," he saya, * I could go oflf 

*^y, after that.' With which,' he embraces her 

'^Hh a very dismal face, and groans in a way that 

^^ght move a heart of stone— even of philosopher's 

•tone. 

^* Egad,* says the old gentleman, * that reminds 
i&e — ^this bustle put it out of my head — there was 
• figure wrong. Hell live to a green old age — 
eighty-seven at least !' 

" * How much, sir ?* cries Tom. 

^ * Hffhty-eeTen I* says the old gentleman. 

**Wiuoat another word, Tom flings himself on 
the old gentleman's neck : throws up his hat ; cuts 
a caper ; defies the waiting-maid ; and refers her 
to the butcher. 

** * You won*t marry her !* says the old gentleman, 
angrily. 

'**And live after it!' says Tom. *rd sooner 
nuLrrj a mermaid, with a small-tooth comb and 
looking-glass.' 

" * Then take the consequences,' pays the other. 

"With those words — I beg your kind attention 
here, gentlemen, for it's worth your notice — the old 
gentleman wetted the forefinger of his right hand 
in some of the liquor from the crucible that was 



spilt on the floor, and drew a small triangle on 
Tom's forehead. The room swam before his eyes, 
and he found himself in the watch-house." 

*' Found himself where f cried the vice, on behalf 
of the company generally. 

*' In the watch-house," said the chairman. " It 
was late at night, and he found himself in the very 
watch-house from which he had been let out that 
morning." 

*' Did he go home ?" asked the vice. 

** The watch-house people rather objected to 
that," said the chairman ; ** so he stopped there 
that night, and went before the magistrate in the 
morning. * Why, you're here again, are you ?' says 
the magistrate, adding insult to injury ; * well 
trouble you for five shillings more, if you can con- 
veniently spare the money.' Tom told him he had 
been enchanted, but it was of no use. He told the 
contractora the same, but they wouldn't believe 
him. It was very hard upon him, gentlemen, as he 
often said, for was it likely he'd go and invent such 
a talc ? They shook their heads and told him he'd 
say anything but his prayers — as indeed he would ; 
there's no doubt about that. It was the only im- 
putation on his moral character that ever / heard 
of." 



••♦ 



THE CAB-DRIVER AND THE MAN ABOUT TOWN. 



rROM 



"the PICKWICK CLUB." 



•« Cab !" said Mr. Pickwick. 

" Here you are, sir," shouted a strange specimen 
of the human race, in a sackcloth coat, and apron 
of the same, who with a brass label and number 
round his neck, looked as if he were catalogued in 
some collection of rarities. This was the water- 
man. ** Here you are, sir. Now, then, fu.st cab !" 
And the fust cab having being fetched from the 
public house, where he had been smoking his first 
pipe, Mr. Pickwick and his portmanteau were thrown 
bto the vehicle. 

'* Golden Cross," said Mr. Pickwick. 

** Only a bob's vorth. Tommy," — cried the driver, 
lolkily, for the information of his friend the water- 
man, as the cab drove off. 

** How old is that horse, my friend ?" inquired 
Mr. Pickwick, rubbing his nose with the shilling he 
had reserved for the mre. 

" Forty-two," replied the driver, eyeing him 
aakant. 

"What I" ejacuUted Mr. Pickwick, laying his 
hand upon his note-book. The driver reiterated 
his former statement. Mr. Pickwick looked very 
hard at the man's face, but his features were im- 
movable, to he noted down the fact forthwith. 

" And how long do you keep him out at a time ?" 
inquired Mr. I^ckwick, searching for further infor- 
mation. 

" Two or three veeks," replied the man. 

** Weeks !" said Mr. Pickwick in astonishment— 
and out came the note-book again. 

** He lives at Pentonwil when he's at home," ob- 
served the driver coolly, ** but we seldom takes him 
home on account of his veakncss." 

** On acccount of his weakness ;" reiterated the 
perplexed Mr. Pickwick. 

49 



BT CHARLES DICKENS (bOz). 

** He always falls down, when he's took out o'the 
cab," contined the driver, " but when he's in it, we 
bears him up werry tight, and takes him in werry 
short, 80 as he can't werry well fall down, and we've 
got a pair o' precious large wheels on ; so ven he 
dof8 move, they run after him, and he must go on 
— he can't help it." 

Mr. Pickwick entered everv word of this state- 
ment in his note-book, with the view of communi- 
cating it to the club, as a singular instance of the 
tenacity of life in horses, under trying circumstan- 
ces. The entry was scarcely completed when they 
reached the Golden Cross. Down jumped the 
driver, and out got Mr. Pickwick. Mr. Tupman, 
Mr. Snodgra-ss, and Mr. AVinklc, who had been 
anxiously waiting the arrival of their illustrious 
leader, crowded to welcome him. 

*' Here's your fare," said Mr. Pickwick, holding 
out the shilling to the driver. 

What was the learned man's astonishment, when 
that unaccountable person flung the money on the 
pavement, and requested in figurative terms to be 
allowed the pleasure of fighting him (Mr. Pickwick) 
for the amount 1 

** You are mad," said Mr. Snodgrass. 

" Or drunk," said Mr. Winkle. 

" Or both," said Mr. Tupman. 

** Come on," said the cab-driver, sparring away 
like clock-work. " Come on — all four on you." 

"Here's a lark!" shouted half a dozen hackney 
coachmen. *' Go to vork, Sam," — and they crowd- 
ed with great glee round the party. 

*' What's the row, Sam?" inquired one gentle- 
man in black calico sleeves. 

*' Row I" replied the cabman, *' What did he 
want my number for ?" 



758 



THE Ci.B-DRITEK AND THE MAN ABOUT TOWTf. 



" I didn't want rour number," uid ths utonlshed 
Mr. nckwick. 

" What did you take it for, then T inquired tbe 
cabman. 

"1 didn't take it," said Ur. Pickwick, indig- 
nandj. 

"Would any body believe," continued the cub- 
driver, appealing to the crowd, — " Would any i>ody 
believe aa an iaformcr 'ud go about in a man's cab, 
not on]}' takin' dowu liis number, but ev'ry Kord 
he layu inlo the bargain," (a light Haflhed upon Mr. 
Pickwick — it was the note-book.) j 

"Did he, though!" in<|uired another cabmati. 

" Yes, did he," replied the flrnt, •' and Ihen, artcr 1 
aggerawatin' me to assault hini, gets ihrce wilncRS- 
ea here to prove it. But I'll give it bini, if I've six 
months for it. Come on," — and (he cabman dash- I 
ed his hat upon the ground, with a reckless disre- { 
gardof his own private property, and knocked Mr. ' 
Pickwick's spectacles off, anil ibllowed up the at- , 
tack with a blow an Ur. rickwick'a noiie, and an- 1 
Other on Mr. Pickwick's cheM, and ■ third in Ur. 
finodgrasn'a eye, and a fourili, by way of variety, ] 
in Hr. Tupniun's waistcoat, and then danced into ; 
the road, and then back again to llio psveuieut, 
and finally dashed the whole temporary supply of I 
breath out of Ur. Winkle's body ; and all in half a j 
dozen seconds, 

"Where's an officcrTsaid Hr. Snodgrass. ' 

"Put 'em under the pump," Buggcatod a hot pie- 



" Ton shall tmart for this," gasped Hr. Pickvkk. 

" Informers." shouted the crowd. 

" Come on," cried the cabman, who had bKa 
sparring without cessation the whole time. 

The mob had hitherto been passire speclatorg iif 
the scene, hut as the intelligence of the Pickcict- 
ians being informers was spread among th«iii, iLty 
began lo canvass with considerable viTacily the 
propriety of enforcing the heated pastry-veDder's 
proposition : and there is no saying what act? of 
personal aggression they might have couiDiiltcd, 
had not the atlVay been unexpectedly termiDUel 
by the interposition of a new comer. 

"What's the fun?" said a rather tall, thin joung 
man. in a green coat, emerging suddenly froiotlu 

"Informers!" shouted the crowd. 

'■ We are not," roared Ur. Pickwick, in a tone, 
which, to any dispassionate listener, carried convic- 
tion with it. 

"Ain't jou, though — ain't you?"saiiI the joung 
man, appealing to Mr. Pickwick, and making hit 
way through ihc crowd, by the infallible proc^Mol 
clbowiug tbe countenances of its component menr 

That learned man, in a few hurried words, ex- 
plained (he real state of the case. 

" Come along, then," said he of the green coal, 
igging Ur. Pickwick after him by main force, and 




happen — best r^uhited families 

— never say die — down upon 

your luck — pull him up — puttbat 

h —like the liavoi— 

d nscals." And with a 

gth string of similar hro- 

k se ces, delivered with 
ra d] ary volubility, the 
ra g d tbe way to the tra- 
il r» w ting room, whither be 
waa sc followed by Mr. 
P k k nd Ills disciples. 

H re waiter," shouted the 
ra g nging the bell with 
m us violence, " glasses 
ro ndy and water, hot 
d g and sweet, andp}enty 
— e d maged, air f Walter ; 
raw be eak for the gentle- 
m notliinglike raw beef- 
steak for a bruise, sir ; cold himp- 
post very good, but lamp-port in- 
convenient — d d cold stand- 
ing in the open street half an 
hour, with your eye against a 
lamp-post — ch, — very good — hal 
ha!" And the stranger, without 
slopping to take breath, swallow- 
ed at a draught full half a pint of 
the reeking brandy and water, 
and flung himself into a chair 
with as much ease, as if nothing 
uncommon had occurred. 

While his three companions 
were bu^ly engaged in proffei^ 
Ing their thanks to ibeir new 
Mquaintaoce, Hr. Fickwkk 



THE OAB-DBIVBB AND THE HAN ABOUT TOWN. 



759 



nn to eiunlne bit eottnme Mid appear* 

II kboat the middle height, but the thinnoBs 
lodj, and the leagih of bis iegi, gave biin 
earance of beiuK much taller. The green 
I beea a smart inaa garment in the dajB of 
iaila, but bad Gvidentlj in those limpa 

a mucbaborler man than the stranger, for 
d and tkdi-d sleeves scarcelj reai-hed lu hit 

It vu buttoned i^lowlj up to his chin, at 
inent hazard of splitling the back ; and an 
k, ■ithout a vestige of shirt collar, ornu- 

his neck. Ills scunlj black tTou»en dis- 
liere and there (boec shiny patches which 

long service, and were strapped very lij:tit- 
I pair of patched and mended shoe:', ea if 
■al the dirty vhitc stockings, which were 
itess distinctly viaiblo. His long block hsir 
in negligent waves from beneath each side of 
nnched-up hat; and glimpses of his bare 
igfat be observed, between the tops of his 
lad the cu9^ of hie coat sleeves. His face 

and haggard I but an indescribable air of 
mpudence and perfect soIf-posaeBaion per- 
le whole man. 

ras the individual, on ivhom Mr, Pickwick 
iTOUgh his spectacles (nbich he hud forlu- 
■ecovered), and to whom he proceeded, 
I friends bad cihauslod themselves, to re- 

choflen terms, bis warmest tbaniu for hia 

ar mind," said the stranger, cutting the ad- 
rj abort, " aaid enough, — no more ; smart 
It cabman — baodled his lives well; but if 
I TOar friend in the green jcrnniy — danm 
loh hia head, — 'cod I would, — pig's whisper 






> gammc 



coherent speech was interrupted by the 
! of the Rochester coachman, to announce 
le Commodore" waa on the point of starling, 
jnodore V said the stranger, starting up, 
«eb, — place booked.^-one autsidG—leare 
•jfor the brandy and water, — want, change 
18, — bad wlver — Brumuiagcm buttons — 
— oo go — eh t" and he shook his head most 

It ao happened that Ur. Pickwick and his 
mpanioDa liad resolved to make Rochester 
it halting place loo ; and having intimated 

Baw-found acquaintance tbut they were 
ng to the same city, Ihoy agreed to occupy 
at the back of the coach, where they could 
gother. 

with yon," said the stranger, assisiing Mr. 
k on lo the roof with so much precipitation, 
pair the gravity of that gentleman's deport. 
rj m.l.ti.ll,. 

Inggage, ^r?" inquired the coachman. 
a — I ! Brown paper parcel here, that's all 

Inggage gone by water, — packing-cases, 

ip— big as houses — heavy, heavy, d d 

replied the etmnger, bb be forced into 
kat as much as he could of the brown 
%tet\ which presenteil most suspicious in- 
iof containing one shirt and a handkerchief. 
4a, beads, take care of your heads," cried 
ladoois Kronger, as they came out under 
archway, which in those days formed the 
I to the coach yard. " Terrible place — 
Mwork — oUierday — five children — mother 
ij, eating aandwichea— forgot the arch- 



crash — knock — childrcD look round — mother'a head 

off — sandwich in her hand — no mouth lo put it in — 
head of a family Dff-~«hocking, shocking. Looking 
at Whitehall, sir,— fine place— little window — eomo- 
body else's head off there, eb, ur? — be didn't keep a 
sharp look-out enough either — eta, sir, eh ?" 

" 1 was ruminating," aaid Mr. Pickwick, " on tbe 
strange mutability of human affairs." 

" Ah ! I see — in at (ho palace door one day, out 
at the window the neit. Philosopher, sirV 

" An observer of human nature, sir," said Hr. 
Pickwick. 

" Ah, so am I. Most people are when they've 
little to do and less to get. Poet, sir?" 

" Uy friend, Mr. Snodgrass has a strong poetic 
turn." said Mr, Pickwick. 

" So have I," said the stranger. " Epic poem, — 
ten thousand lines — revolnlion of July — composed 
it on the spot — Mars by day — Apollo by night, — 
bang the Beld-juece, twang tbe lyre." 

" You were present at that glorious scene, arl" 
sail! Mr. Bnodgrass. 

"Present! think I was; fired a musket, fired 
with an idea, — rushed into a wine shoji^wrote it 
down — bock again — whiz, bang — another idea — 
wine shop again — pen and iuk — back again — cut 
and slash — noble lime, sir. Sportsman, sir !" ab- 
ruptly turning lo Mr. Winkle. 

"A little, sir," replied that gentleman. 

"Fme pursuit, sir.— line pursuit— Dogs, Birr" 

"Kotjust now,''saidMr. Winkle. 

" Ah 1 you should keep dogs — fine animals — 
sagacious creatures — dog of my own once— Pointer 
— (turprising instinct — out shooting one day — enter- 
ing inclosure — wbistled — dog stopped — whistled 
again — Ponto— no go ; Block still — -called bim — 
Ponto, Pouto — wouldD't move — dog transfixed — 




Rtaring at a board — looked up, saw an inscription 
— 'Gamekeeper has orders to shoot all dogA found 
in this inclosure' — wouldn't pass it — wonderful dog 
— valuable dog that — very." 



760 



8AM WELLER S YALENTIVS. 



** Singular circumstance, that,** said Mr. Pickwick. 
*' Will you allow me to make a note of it* ?" 

" Certainly, sir, certainly — hundred more anec- 
dotes of the same animal. — ^Fine girl, sir^ (to Mr. 
Tracy Tupman, who had been bestowing sundry 
anti-Pickwickian glances on a young lady by the 
road side). 

" Very I" said Mr. Tupman. 

** English girls not so fine as Spanish — noble 
creatures — jot hair — black eyes — lovely forms — 
sweet creatures — beautiful.'* 

" You have been in Spain, sir ?" said Mr. Tracy 
Tupman. 

** Lived there — ages." 

"Many conquests, sir?" inquired Mr. Tupman. 

"Conquests! Thousands. Don Bolaro Fizzgig 
— Grandee — only daughter — Donna Christina — 
splendid creature — loved me to distraction — jealous 
father — high-souled daughter — handsome English- 
man — ^Donna Christina in despair — prussic acid — 
stomach pump in my portmanteaus-operation per- 
formed-^-old Bolaro in ecstasies^-<:onsent to our 
union— join hands and floods of tears — romantic 
story — very." 

" Is the lady in England now, sir ?" inquired Mr. 
Tupman, on whom the description of her charms 
had produced a powerful impression. 

" Dead, sir — dead," said the stranger, applying to 
bis right eye the brief remnant of a very old cambric 
handkerchief. " Never recovered the stomach 
pnmp — undermined constitution — fell a victim." 

"And her father?" Inquired the poetic Snod- 
grass, 

"Remorse and misery," replied the stranger. 
" Sudden disappearance — ^talk of the whole city — 
search made everywhere — without success — pui>lie 
fountain in the great square suddenly ceased play- 
ing — weeks elapsed — still a stoppage — workmen 
employed to clean it — water drawn off — father-in- 
law discovered sticking head first in the main pipe, 
with a full confession in his right boot — took him 
out, and the fountain played away again as well as 
eTer." 

" Will you allow me to note that little romance 
down, sir ?" said Mr. Snodgrass, deeply affected. 

" Certainly, sir, certainly, — ^fifty more, if you like 
to hear 'em — strange life mine — rather curious his- 
tory — not extraordinary, but singular." 

^ Although wo find this circumstanco recorded as a "sin- 
gnlar** one, In Mr. Pickwick's note-book, wo cannot refrain 
from humbly oxprestflng our dissent from that learned au- 
thority. The stranger's anecdote Is not one quarter so won- 
deiAil as some of Mr. Jesse's " Gleanings. ** Ponto sinks 
Into utter inslgniflcanco before the dogs whose actions he 
reoordSb 



In this strain, with an oecssloiial skss of sle, by 
way of parenthesis, when the coach dianged hones, 
did the stranger proceed, until they reaehed Ro- 
chester bridge, by which time the note-books, both 
of Mr. Pickwick and Mr. Snodgrass, were complete- 
ly filled with selections from his adventures. 

" Magnificent ruin !" said Mr. Augustus Snod' 
grass, with all the poetic fervor that distinguished 
him, when they came in sight of the fine old castle^ 

" What a study for an antiquarian," were th 
very words which fell from Mr. Pickwick's mouth.^' 
as he applied his telescope to his eye. 

" Ah ! fine place," said the stranger, " glories 
pile — frowning walls — tottering arches — 4ark nook 
^-crumbling stai revises— old cathedral too— ^arthl 
smell — ^pilgrims* feet worn away the old steps — ^little 
Saxon doors — confessionals like money-takers' box- 
es at theatres — queer customers, those monks — 
Popes, and Lord Treasurers' and all sorts of old 
fellows, with great red faces, and broken noses, 
turning up every day — buff jerkins too— match- 
locks — sarcophagus — ^fine place — old legends to9 — 
strange stories : capital ;" and the stranger contin- 
ued to soliloquize until they reached the Bull lun, 
in the High Street, where the coached stopped. 

" Do you remain here, sir f" inquired Mr. Natha- 
niel Winkle. 

" Here — not I — but you'd better — good house — 
nice beds — Wright's next house, dear — verv* dear — 
half a-crown in the bill, if you look at the waiter — 
charge you more if you dine at a friend's than they 
would if you dined in the coffee room — rum fellows 
— very." 

Mr. Winkle turned to Mr. Pickwick, and mur- 
mured a few words; a whisper passed from Mr. 
Pickwick to Mr. Snodgrass, from Mr. Snodgrass to 
Mr. Tupman, and nods of assent were exchanged. 
Mr. Pickwick addressed the stranger. 

" You rendered us a very important service, this 
morning, sir," said he ; " will you allow us to offer 
a slight mark of our gratitude by begging the favor 
of your company at dinner ?" 

"Great pleasure — ^not presume to dictate, but 
broiled fowl and mushrooms— capital thing ! What 
time ?" 

" Let me see," replied Mr. Pickwick, referring to 
his watch, " it is now nearly three. Shall we say 
five?" 

" Suit me excellently," said the stranger, " five 
precisely — till then — care of yourselves ;" and lift- 
ing the pincbed-up hat a few inches from his head, 
and carelessly replacing it very much on one side, 
the stranger, with half the brown paper parcel 
sticking out of his pocket, walked briskly up the 
yard, and turned into the high street. 




•»• 



SAM WELLER'S VALENTINE. 



rSOV "the PICKWICK CLUB." 



Sam had solaced himself with a most agreeable 
little dinner, and was waiting at the bar for the 
glass of warm mixture, in which Mr. Pickwick had 
requested him to drown the fatigues of bis morn- 
ing's walks, when a young boy of about three feet 
high, or thereabouts, in a hairy cap and fustian 
overalls, whose garb bespoke a laudable ambition 
to attain in time the elevation of an hostler, enter- 



BT CHARLES DICKEKS (bOZ). 

i ed the passage of the George and Vulture, and 
looked first up the stairs, and then along the pas- 
sage, and then into the bar, as if in search of some- 
body to whom he bore a commission ; whereupon 
the bannaid, conceiving it not improbable that the 
said commission might be directed to the tea or 
table spoons of the establishment, accosted the boy 
with 



8AK WBXLEB 8 YAI.2IiTraE. 



761 



** Now, young man, what do yov want f* 
** Is there anybody here, named Sam ?*^ inquired 
the youth, in a loud roice of treble quality. 

^What*8 the tother name?" said Sam Weller, 
looking round. 

^* How should 1 know ?" briskly replied the young 
gentleman below the hairy cap. 

" You're a sharp boy, you are," said Mr. Weller ; 
**only I wouldn't show that wery fine edge too 
much, if I was you, in case any body took it off. 
What do you mean by comin' to a hot-el, and ask- 
ing after Sam, vith so much politeness as a vild 
Indian?" 

" Cos an old genlm'n told me to," replied the 
boy. 

'*What old gen^m'n?" inquired Sam, with deep 
di«dain. 

^ Him as driyes a Ipswich coach, and uses our 
parlor," rejoined the boy. He told me yesterday 
momin' to come to the George in Wultur this arter- 
ooon, and ask for Sam." 

"It's my fiither, my dear," said Mr. Weller, 
turning with an explanatory air to the young lady 
in the bar ; blessed if I think he hardly knows wot 
my other name is. Yell, young brockily sprout, 
wot then?" 

'* Why then," said the boy, " you was to come to 
him at six o'clock to our 'ouse, 'cos he wants to see 
Tou — Blue Boar, Leaden'all Markit. Shall I say 
you're comin' ?" 

"You may wenture on that 'ere statement, sir," 
replied Sam. And thus empowered, the young 
gentleman walked away, awakening all the echoes 
b George Yard as he did so, with several chaste 
and extremely correct imitations of a drover's whistle, 
delivered in a tone of peculiar richness and volume. 
Mr. Weller, having obtained leave of absence 
from Mr. Pickwick, who, in his then state of ex- 
citement and worry, was by no means displeased at 
being left alone, set forth long before the appointed 
hour ; and having plenty of time at his disposal, 
sauntered down as far as the Mansion House, where 
he paused and contemplated, with a face of great 
calmness and philosophy, the numerous cads and 
drivers of short stages who assemble near that fa- 
mous place of resort to the great terror and con- 
fusion of the old-lady population of these realms. 
Having loitered here, for half an hour or so, Mr. 
Weller turned, and began wending his way towards 
Leadenhall Market, through a variety of bye streets 
and courts. As he was sauntering away his spare 
time, and stopped to look at almost every object 
that met his gaze, it is by no means surprising that 
Mr. Weller should have paused before a smidl sta- 
tioner's and print-seller's window ; but without fur- 
ther explanation it does appear surprising that his 
eyes should have no sooner rested on certain pic- 
tures which were exposed for sale therein, than he 
gave a sudden start, smote his right leg with great 
vehemence, and exclaimed with energy, " If it 
hadn't been for this, I should ha' forgot idl about it, 
till it was too Uite I" 

The particular picture on which Sam Weller's eyes 
were fixed, as he said this, was a highly colored re- 
preaentation of a couple of human hearts skewered 
together with an arrow, cooking before a cheerful 
fire, while a male and female cannibal in modem 
■ttire, the gentleman being clad in a blue coat and 
white trowserSf and the lady in a deep red pelisse 
vith a paraiol of the same, were approaching the 
Beal with hungry eyes, up a serpentine gravel 



path leading thereunto. A decidedly indelicatt 
young gentleman, in a pair of wings and nothing 
else, was depicted as superintending the cooking; 
a representation of the spire of the church in Lang- 
ham PUce, appeared in the distance; and the 
whole formed a " valentine," of which, as a written 
inscription in the window testified, there was a 
large assortment within, which the shopkeeper 
pledged himself to dispose of to his countrymen 
generally, at the reduced rate of one and sixpence 
each. 

" I should ha' forgot it ; I should certainly ha' 
forgot it I" said Sam ; and so saying, he at once 
stepped into the stationer's shop, and requested to 
be served with a sheet of the best gilt-edged letter- 
paper, and a hard-nibbed pen which could be war- 
ranted not to splutter. These articles having been 
promptly supplied, he walked on direct towards 
Leadenhall Market at a good round pace, very dif- 
ferent from his recent lingering one. Looking 
round him, he there beheld a sign-board on which 
the painter's art had delineated something remote- 
ly resembling a cerulean elephant with an aquiline 
nose in lieu of trunk. Rightly conjecturing that 
this was the Blue Boar himself, he stepped into the 
house, and inquired concerning his parent. 

" He won't be here this three-quarters of an hour 
or more," said the young lady who superintended 
the domestic arrangements of the Blue Boar. 

" Very good, my dear," replied Sam. ** Let me 
have nine pen'orth o' brandy and water luke, and 
the inkstand, will you, miss ?" 

The brandy and water luke and the inkstand 
having been carried into the little parlor, and the 
young lady having carefully flattened down the 
coals to prevent their blazing, and carried away the 
poker to preclude the possibility of the fire being 
stirred, without the full privity and concurrence of 
the Blue Boar being first had and obtained, Sam 
Weller sat himself down in a box near the stove, and 
puUcd out the sheet of gilt-edged letter-paper, and 
the hard-nibbed pen. Then, looking carefully at 
the pen to see that there were no hairs in it, and 
dusting down the table, so that there might be no 
crumbs of bread under the paper, Sam tucked up 
the cuffs of his coat, squared his elbows, and com- 
posed himself to write. 

To ladies and gentlemen who are not in the habit 
of devoting themselves practically to the science of 
penmanship, writing a letter is no very easy task, it 
being always considered necessary in such cases for 
the writer to recline his head on his left arm so as 
to place his eyes as nearly as possible on a level 
with the paper, and while glancing sideways at the 
letters ho is constructing, to form with his tongue 
imaginary characters to correspond. These mo- 
tions, although unquestionably of the greatest assist- 
ance to original composition, retard in some degree 
the progress of the writer, and Sam had uncon- 
sciously been a full hour and a half writing words 
in small text, smearing out wrong letters with his 
little finger, and putting in new ones which requir- 
ed going over very often to render them visible 
through the old blots, when he was roused by the 
opening of the door and the entrance of his parent. 

" Veil, Sammy," said the father. 

" Veil, my Prooshan Blue," responded the son, 
laying down his pen. "What's the last bulletin 
about mother-in-law ?" 

" Mrs. Veller passed a wery good night, but is 
uncommon perwerse and unpleasant this momin'— > 



763 



8AM WELLER'S YALEKTIBrE. 



rigned upon oath — S. yeller. Esquire, Senior. 
That's the Itst run as was issued, Sammy,'' replied 
Mr. Weller, untyine his shawl. 

•* No better yet f" inquired Sam. 

**AU the symptoms aggerawated,** replied Mr. 
Weller, shaking his head. '* But wot*s that youVe 
a doin' of— -pursuit of knowledge under difficulties 
—eh, Sammy ? ' 

* I've done now,*' said Sam with slight embarrass- 
ment ; " Fre been a writin'." 

"So I see," repUed Mr. Weller. "Not to any 
young 'ooman, I hope, Sammy." 

" Why it's no use a sayin' it ain't," replied Sam. 
** It's a walentine." 

"A what!" exclAimed Mr. Weller, apparently 
horror-stricken by the word. 

" A walentine,'' replied Sam. 

"Samivel, Samivell" Faid Mr. Weller, in re- 
proachful accents, " I didn't think you'd ha' done 
ft. Arter the wamin' you've had o' your father's 
wicious perpensities, arter all I've said to you upon 
this here wery subject ; arter actiwally seein' and 
bein' in the company o' your own mother-in-law, 
▼ich I should ha' thought was a moral lesson as no 
man could erer ha' forgotten to his dyin' day I I 
didn't think you'd ha' done it, Sammy, I didn't 
think you'd ha' done it" These reflections were 
too much for the good old man. He raised Sam's 
tumbler to his lips, and drank off its contents. 

** Wot's the matter now I" said Sam. 

"Never mind, Sammy," replied Mr. Weller, "it'll 
be a wery agonizin' trial to me at my time of life, 
but Fm pretty tough, that's vun consolation, as the 
wery old turkey remarked ven the farmer said he 
woB afeerd he should be obliged to kill him, for the 
London market." 

" Wot'U be a trial ?" inquired Sam. 

" To see you married, Sammy — ^to see you a delu- 
ded wictim, and thinkin' in your innocence that it's 
all wery capitol," replied Mr.' Weller. " It's a dread- 
Ad trial to a father's feelin's, that 'ere, Sammy." 

" Nonsense," said Stan, " I ain't a goin' to get 
married, don't you fVet yourself about that ; I know 
you're a judge o' these things. Order in your pipe, 
and I'll read you the letter — there." 

We cannot distinctly say whether it was the pros- 
pect of the pipe, or the consolatory reflection that 
a fatal disposition to get married ran in the family 
and couldn't be helped, which calmed Mr. Weller's 
feelings, and caused his grief to subside. We 
should be rather disposed to say that the result was 
attained by combining the two sources of consola- 
tion, for he repeated the second in a low tone, 
very frequently; ringing the bell meantime, to 
order In the first. He then divested himself 
of his upper coat; and lighting the pipe and 
placing himself in front of the fire with his back to- 
wards it, so that he could feel its full heat, and re- 
cline against the mantel-piece at the same time, 
turned towards Sam, and, with a countenance 
greatly mollified by the softening influence of to- 
bacco, requested him to " fire away." 

Sam dipped bis pen into the ink to be ready for 
any corrections, and began with a very theatrical 
air 

"* Lovely .'" 

" Stop/' said Mr. WeUer, ringing the belt " A 
double glass o' the inwariable, my dear." 

"Very well, sir," replied the girl; who with 
ffreat quickness appeared, vanished, returned, and 
disappeared. 



"They seem to know your ways here," observed 
Sam. 

" Yes," replied the father, "Tve been here be- 
fore, in my time. Go on, Sammy." 

" * Lovely creetur,'" repeated Sam. 

" 'Tain't in poetry, is it ?" interposed the father. 

" No, no," replied Sam. 

" Wery glad to bear it," said Mr. Weller. " Poet- 
ry's unnat'ral ; no man ever talked in poetry 'cept 
a beadle on boxin' day, or Warren's blackin', or 
Rowland's oil, or some o' them low fellows ; never 
you let yourself down to talk poetry, my boy. 
Begin again, Sammy." 

Mr. Weller resumed his pipe with critical solem- 
nity, and Sam once more commenced, and read as 
follows. 

" * Lovely creetur i feel myself a damned* — .' 

" That ain't proper," said Mr. Weller, taking his 
pipe from his mouth. 

" No ; it ain't damned," observed Sam, holding 
the letter up to the light, " it's * shamed,' there's a 
blot there — * I feel myself ashamed.' " 

" Wery good," said Mr. WeUer. " Go on." 

" * Feel myself ashamed, and completely cir — * 
I forget wot this here word is," said Sam, scratch- 
ing his head with the pen, in vain attempts to re« 
member. 

" Why don't you look at it, then?" inquired Mr. 
Weller. 

" So I am a lookin' at it," replied Sam, " but there's 
another blot ; here's a * c,' and a ' i,' and a * d.' " 

" Circumwented, p'raps," suggested Mr. Weller. 

"No, it ain't that," said Sam, "circumscribed, 
that's it." 

"That ain't as good a word as circumwented, 
Sammy," said Mr. Weller, gravely. 

"Think not?" said Sam. 

" Nothin' like it," replied his father. 

" But don't you think it means more ?" inquired 
Sam. 

" Veil, p'raps it is a more tenderer word," said 
Mr. Weller, after a few moments' refiection. " Go 
on, Sammy." 

" * Feel myself ashamed and completely circum- 
scribed in a dressin' of you, for you are a nice gal, 
and nothin' but it.' " 

" That's a wery pretty sentiment," said the elder 
Mr. Weller, removing his pipe to make way for the 
remark. 

" Tes, I think it is rayther good," observed Sam, 
highly flattered. 

" Wot I like in that 'ere style of writin'," said the 
elder Mr. Weller, "is, that there ain't no callin' 
names in it, — ^no Wenuses, nor nothin' o' that kind ; 
wot's the good o' callin' a young 'ooman a Wenus 
or a angel, Sammy ?" 

" Ah ! what, indeed ?" replied Sam. 

" You might jist as veil call her a griffin, or a 
unicorn, or a king's arms at once, which is wery 
veil known to be a col-lection o' fabulous animals, 
added Mr. Weller. 

^ Just as well," replied Sam. 

" Drive on, Sammy," said Mr. Weller. 

Sam complied with the request, and proceeded 
as follows ; his father continmng to smoke, with a 
mixed expression of wisdom and complacency, 
which was particulariy edifying. 

"* Afore I see you I thought all women was 
aHke.' " 

" So they are," observed the elder Mr. Weller, 
parenthetically. 



SAlt WKLLKE 9 VALENTISE. 




" ' But noir,' continued Sara, ' now I flnd vhkt t 
nglw Boft-heided, ink-red'loia turnip 1 must ha' 
iMen, for there unt DObodj Uke jou though I like 
jou better thui nothin' at all.' I thought it best 
to nuke that rajther strong," said Sam, looking up. 

Hr. Weller nodded approvinglj, md Sam rc- 

" ' So I take the priTilidge of the d&j, Hnrr, m; 
dear — a« the geDlem'n in difficullies did, yen be 
Talked out of a Sunday, — to tell yon that the first 
•nd onlj time I aee jou jour likeneM was took on 
mj ban in much quicker time and brighter colors 
than ETer a Ukeneea waa took by the profeel mu- 
cheen (vichp'rapa you may haTe heerdon Uary m; 
dear) lltha it dot* finiah a portrait and put the frame 
and glaM on complete with ■ boob at the end to 
hang it Dp by and all in two minutes and a quar- 
ter." 

'■ I atn ftCaerd that irei^^ on tha poetical, Sam- 
my," (aid Mr. Weller, dubiounly. 

"No it don't," replied Sun, iwwling OD very 
qnickly, to vttiA cooleatlng tike point. 

" ' Except of me, Hary my dear, aa your valen- 
tine, and tliiidc over what I've uJd. — Hy dear Harf 
1 Bin now oonclude.' That's all," said Sam. 

"That's rayther a sudden pull up, ain't it, Som- 
Biyr inquired Mr. Weller. 

"Not a bit on It," udd Sam; "shell Tisb there 
TM moie, and that's the great art o' letter 

"Wen," said Mr. Weller, "there's somethin' In 



a EOiii 



3 PiCn It 



itBcullj," aaid Sam ; " I don't know 

" Sign it — VcUor," said the oldest snrriiing pro- 
prietor of that name. 

"Won't do," s.iid Sam. " Nctcf sign a valen- 
tine with jour own name." 

'■Sgn it 'Pickvick,' then," said Mr. Wellet; 
"It's a very good name, and an easy one to 

"The wery thing," naid Pom. "I eouMend with 

" I don't like it. Sum," rejoined Mr. Weller. " I 
neTer know'd a rcBpectablc coachman as wrote 
poetry, 'cept one, as made an aSectin' copy o' 
werses the night afore ho wos huDg for a highway 
robbery ; and he wos only a Cambcrvell man, so 



n that' 






And haring folded it, in ■ Tery intricate manner, 
equeeied a down-hill direction in one corner: "To 
Uary, Housemaid, at Mr. Nupkins's Mayor's, Ips- 
wich, Suffolk ;" and put into his pocket, wafeted, 
and ready for the General Post. 



OSS PEEP WA8 KNOtrSH ; OE, THE POffT-OFFICK. 



ONE PEEP WAa ENOUGH; OR, THE POST-OiTICB. 



'S : now that of 
Dalton wM diacoiirse — that sptcies of discourse, 
wliith JohQWHi'B Diclionarj entitles " conversation 
on ahatever does Dot concern ouraclres." Evtrj- 
bodf knew vlial eT^rjbodj did, and ■ little more. 
Eatings, drinkings, waiting?, alecpings, wulliings. 
talliingEi, sayings, doings — nit were for the good of 
the public ; there waa not such a thing as a secret 
In the town. 

There was a story of Mrs. Mary Smith, an ancient 
dame who lived on an annuity, and boasted the 
gentility of a hock and front parlor, that she once 
aslied a few friends to dinner. The usual heavy 
antecedent half-hour really passed quite pleasantly; 
for Mrs. Hnry's windows overlooked the market- 
plaee, and not a scrag of mutton could leave it un- 
observed; so that the eitrjvagance or the mean- 
ness of the various buyers furnished a copious 
theme for dialogue. Slill, in spile of Mr. A.'a pair 
of fowls, and Hra. B.'s round of beef, the time seem- 
ed long, and the gucBls found hunger growing more 
potent than curiosity. They waited and waited ; 
at length the fatal discovery took place-^hat in 
the hurry of observing her neighbor's dinners, Uis. 
Smith bad forgotten to order her own. 

It was in the month of Uarch that an event hap- 
pened which put the whole town i[i a commotion — 
the arrival of a stranger, who took up his abode at 
the White Hart; not that there was any thing re- 
markable about the Btrsnger ; he was a plain, mid- 
dle-a^d. respectable-looking man, and Che nicest 
scrutiny (and heaven knows how narrowly he was 
watched) failed to discover any thing odd about 
Um. It woa ascertained that he rose at eight, 
breakfasted at nine, ntc two eggs and a piece of 
broiled bacon, sat in his room at the window, read 
a little, wrote a little, and looked out upon the road 
■ good deal ; he then strolled out, relumed home, 
Jined at five, smoked two cigars, read the morning ' ed, and closely 



Herald (for the poet came in of an eTcnin)c). and 
went to bed at ten. Nothing could be more regnUr 
or unexceptionable than bis babita; still it was 
most extraordinary what could have brought him 
to Dalton. There were no chalybeate springs, 
warranted to cure every disease under the sun ; no 
ruina in the neighborhood, left eipreasly for anU- 
quarians and pic-nic partiea ; no fine prospects, 
which, like music, people make it matter of cod- 
ecipnce to admire ; no celebrated pemon had ever 
been born or buried in its environs ; there were no 
races, no assizes — in short, there was " no nothing." 

weather were not the inducemcnia. The stranger's 
name was Mr. Williams, but that was the eitcnt of 
their knonledge ; and, shy and silent, there seemed 
no probability of learning any thing more from 
himself. Conjecture, like Shakspere, "exhausted 
worlds, and then imagined new." Some suppowd he 
was hiding from his creditors, others that he bad 
committed forgery ; one suggested that be bad es- 
caped from a mad-house, a second that he had kill- 
ed some one in a duel ; but alt agreed that be came 
there for no good. 

It was the twenty-third of Hareh, when a triad of 
gossips were assembled at their temple, the post- 
office. The affairB of Dalton and the nation were 
settled together; newspapers were slipped from 
their covers, and not an epistle but yielded a por- 
tion of its contents. But on this night all attenlion 
was concenlraled upon one. directed to " John 
Wiiliams, Esq., at the White Hart, Dalton." Esfter- 
1y was it compressed in the long fingers of Un. 
Mary Smith of dinnerlcss memory ; the fat landlady 
of the White Hart was on lip-toe (o peep, while the 
posl-mislress, whose curiosity took a semblance of 
official dignity, raised a warning hi 




OOOL. LOGIC. 



765 



hud ; suddenly Mrs. Marj Smithes look grew more 
intent— «he had succeeded in deciphering a scn- 
tence ; the letter dropped from her hand. ** Oh, 
the monster !" shrieked the horrified peeper. Land- 
lady and post-miiitress both snatched at the terri- 
ble scroll, and they equally succeeded in reading 
the following words — " We will settle the matter to- 
morrow at dinner, but I am sorry you persist in 
poisoning your wife, the horror is too great." Not 
& syllable more could they make out ; but what 
*ey had read was enough. " He told me," gasped 
the landlady, ** that he expected a lady and gentle- 
pan to dinner — oh the villain ! to think of poison- 
ing any Udy at the White Hart ; and his wife, too 
*--I should like to see my husband poisoning me !" 
Our hostess became quite personal in her indigna- 
tion, 

**I always thought there was something suspi- 
cions about him ; people don't come and live where 
Oobody knows them, for nothing/' observed Mrs. 
^ary Smith. 

" I dare say," returned the post-mistress, ** Wil- 
liams is not his real name.'* 

** I don't know that,'* interrupted the landlady ; 
** Williams is a good hanging name: there was 
Williams who murdered the Marr's familv, and 
Williams who burked all those poor dear children ; 
I dare say he is some relation of theirs ; but to 
think of his coming to the White Hart — ^it's no place 
for his doings, I can tell him ; he shan't poison his 
wife in my house ; out he goes this very night — I'll 
take the letter to him myself." 

'* Lord ! Lord ! I shall be ruined, if it comes to 
be known that we take a look into tho letters ;" 
and the post-mistress thought in her heart that she 
had better let Mr. Williams poison his wife at his 
leisare. Mrs. Mary Smith, too, reprobated any vio- 
lent measures ; the truth is, she did not wish to be 
mixed up in the matter ; a gentlewoman with an 
annuity and a front and back parlor was rather 
ashamed of being detected in such close intimacy 
with the post-mistress and the landlady. It seem- 
ed likely that poor Mrs. Williams would be left to 
her miserable fate. 

** Murder will out," said the landlord, the follow- 
ing morning, as he mounted tho piebald pony, which, 
like Tom Tough, had seen a deal of service ; and 
hurried off in search of Mr. Crampton, the nearest 
magistrate. 

Their perceptions assisted by brandy and water, 
he and his wife had sat up long past ** the witching 
hour at night,** deliberating on what line of con- 
duct would be most efficacious in preserving 
the life of the unfortunate Mrs. Williams ; and the 
result of the deliberation was to fetch the justice, 
and have the delinquent taken into custody at the 
very dinner-table which was intended to be the 
scene of bis crime. ** He has ordered soup to-day 
for the first time ; he thinks he could so easily 8lip 
poison into the liquid. There he goes ; he looks 



like a man that has got something on his con- 
science," pointing to Mr. Williams, who was walk- 
ing up and down at his usual slow pace. Two 
o^clock arrived, and with it a hack chaise ; out of it 
stept, sure enough, a lady and gentleman. The land- 
lady's pity redoubled — such a pretty young creature, 
not above nineteen ! — ** I see how it is," thought 
she, '* the old wretch is jealous." All efforts to 
catch her eye were in vain, the dinner was ready, 
and down they sat. The hostess of the White Hart, 
looked alternately out of the window, like sister 
Ann, to see if any one was coming, and to the table 
to see that nothing was doing. To her dismay, she 
observed the young lady lifting a spoonful of broth 
to her mouth ! She could restrain herself no long- 
er ; but catching her hand, exclaimed, ** Poor dear 
innocent, the soup is poisoned !" — All started from 
the table in confusion, which was yet to be increas- 
ed : — a bustle was heard in the passage, in rushed 
a whole party, two of whom, each catching an arm 
of Mr. Williams, pinioned them down to his seat. 
** I am happy, madam," said the little bustling ma- 
gistrate, ** to have been under heaven the instru- 
ment of preserving your life from the nefarious de- 
signs of that disgrace to humanity." Mr. Crampton 
ptiUHed in consequence of three wants — want of 
words, breath, and ideas. 

*' My life!" ejaculated the astonished lady. 

** Yes, madam, the ways of Providence are in- 
scrutable — the vain curiosity of three idle women 
has been turned to good account." And the elo- 
quent magistrate proceeded to detail the process of 
inspection to which the fatal letter had been sub- 
jected ; but when he came to the terrible words — 
*' We will settle tho matter to-morrow at dinner ; 
but I am sorry you persist in poisoning your wife'* 
— ^he was interrupted by bursts of laughter from the 
gentleman, from the injured wife, and even from 
the prisoner himself. One fit of merriment was 
followed by another, till it became contagious, and 
the very constables began to laugh too. 

" I can explain all," at last interrupted the visitor. 
*' Mr. Williams came here for that quiet so necessary 
for the labors of genius ; he is writing a melodrama 
called * My Wife' — he submitted the last act to me, 
and I rather objected to the poisoning of the hero- 
ine. This young lady is my daughter, and we are 
on our way to the sea-coast. Mr. Williams is only 
wedded to the Muses." 

The disconcerted magistrate shook his head, and 
muttered something about theatres being very im- 
moral. 

** Quite mistaken, sir," said Mr. Williams. " Our 
soup is cold ; but our worthy landlady roasts fowls 
to a turn — we will have them and the veal cutlets up, 
you will stay and dine with us — and, afterwards, I — 
shall be proud to read * My Wife' aloud, in the hope 
of your approval, at least, of your indulgence" — and 
with the same hope, I bid farewell to my read- 
ers. 



•♦• 



Cool. — ^A fanner, suspecting that his wood-pile 
was robbed, sat np to watch. In the night, he 
heard a noise, and, looking out, saw a lazy neigh- 
bor endeavoring to cany off a large log. ** You ro 
a pretty fenow," said the owner, ** to come here, 
and steal my wood while I sleep." '* And you're a 
pretty fellow,** said the thief, ** to stay up there, 
and see me breaking my back with lifting, and 
never offer to help me.** 



Logic. — A man once made a bet, that he could 
prove that this tide of the river was the other tide. 
Pointing to the opposite shore, he asked. " Is not 
that one side of the river ?" ** Yes." Well, a river 
has but two sides — if that is one side, of course this 
is the other tide.^^ His antagonist, dumbfounded by 
such logic, paid the money, and began to think 
with Macbeth, that ** nothing is but what is not.'* 



766 



CUBIOUS OPINIONS OF A TURK. THE LOTTERY TICKET. 



CURIOUS OPINIONS OF A TURK. 



(( 



n 



FROM **iriNETKH AND BABYLON." BT A. B. LATARD. 



The time was drawing near for mj departure. 
Once more I was about to leave the ruins amidst 
which I had spent so many happy hours, and to 
which I was bound by so many pleasant and solemn 
ties ; and probably to return no more. 

I only waited the arrival of Abde, the late Pasha 
of Bagdadf who was now on bis way to his new 
government of Diarbekir. He was travelling with 
a large company of attendants, as without a strong 
escort, it was scarcely prudent to venture on a 
journey. It was doubly necessary for me to have 
proper protection, as I took with me the valuable 
collection of bronzes and other small objects dis- 
covered in the ruins. I gladly, therefore, availed 
myself of this opportunity of joining so numerous 
and powerful a caravan. 

At length, after the usual eastern delays, the 
Pasha arrived at Mosul. lie remained encamped 
outside the town for two or three days, and during 
that time visited the excavations, his curiosity hav- 
ing been excited by the description he had received 
of the wondrous idols dug out of the ruins. He 
marvelled at what he saw, as a Turk marvels at 
strange things which he can neither understand nor 
explain. It would be in vain to speak to him of 
the true objects of such researches, the knowledge 
they impart, the lessons they teach or the thoughts 
they beget. 

In these pages I have occasionally indulged in 
reflections suggested by the scenes I have had to 
describe, and have ventured to point out the moral 
of the strange tale I have had to relate. I cannot 
better conclude than by showing the spirit in which 
eastern philosophy and Mussulman resignation con- 
template the evidences of ancient greatness and 
civilization, suddenly rising up over the midst of 
modern ignorance and decay. A letter in my pos- 
session contained so true and characteristic a pic- 
ture of the feelings that such an event excites in 
the mind of a good Mohammedan, that I here give 
a literal translation of its contents. It was written 
to a friend of mine by a Turkish Cadi, in reply to 
some inquiries as to the commerce, population, and 
remains of antiquity of an ancient city, in which 
dwelt the head of the land. These are its words : — 

** My illu9triou8 .Friend and Joy of my Liver I 

'* The thing you ask of me is both difficult and 
useless. Although I have passed all my days in this 
place, I have neither counted the houses nor have 



I inquired into the number of the inhabitants; and 
as to what one person loads on his mules, and the 
other stows away in the bottom of his ship, that is 
no business of mine. But, above all, as to the pre- 
vious history of this city, God knows the amoant 
of dirt and confusion the infidels may have eaten 
before the coming of the sword of Islam. It were 
unprofitable for us to inquire into it. * Oh, my soul! 
oh, my lamb ! seek not after the things which con- 
cern thee not. Thou camest to us and we welcomed 
thee : go in peace. 

** Of a truth, thou hast spoken many words ; and 
there is no harm done, for the speaker is one, and 
the listener is another. After the fashion of thy 
people, thou hast wandered from one place to an- 
otlier, until thou art happy and content in none. 
We (praise be to God) were bom here, and never 
desire to quit it. Is it possible then that the idea 
of a general intercourse between mankind should 
make any impression on our understandings ? God 
forbid I 

**" Listen, oh my son ! There is no wisdom equal 
unto the belief in God! He created the world, 
and shall we liken ourselves unto him in seeking to 
penetrate into the mysteries of his creation ? Shall 
we say, behold this star spinneth round that star, 
and this other star with a tail goeth and cometh in 
so many years ! Let it go ! He from whose hand 
it came will guide and direct it. 

*' But thou wilt say unto me. Stand aside, oh 
man, for I am more learned than thou art, and 
have seen more things. If thou thinkest that thou 
art in this respect better than I am, thou art wel- 
come. I praise (vod that I seek not that which I 
require not. Thou art learned in the things I care 
not for ; and as for that which thou hast seen, I 
defile it. Will much knowledge create thee t 
double belly, or wilt thou seek Paradise with thine 
eyes ? 

** Oh, my friend ! If thou wilt he happy, say, 
There is no god but God ! Do no evil, and thus 
wilt thou fear neither man nor death ; for surely 
thine hour will come ! 

'' The meek in spirit (£1 Fakin) 

*'Imaun Axizadk." 

On the 28th of April, I bid a last farewell to out 
faithful Arab friends, and with a heavy hc&rt turn- 
ed from the ruins of ancient Nineveh. 



-•♦♦■ 



THE LOTTERY TICKET. 



ANONYMOUS. 



That once fruitful source of pleasing although 
delusive hopes, the Lottery, is now no more. A 
despotic act of parliament has given the death-blow 
to thousands of happy pictures of the imagination, 
that were hitherto wont to amuse, for a time at 
least, those earnest suitors of Fortune, who, if they 
did not actually enjoy her smiles, flattered them- 
selves that they were on the high road to her favors. 
A stern mora'ust, indeed, may expatiate on the 
baneful influence of Lotteries, not only as a species 
of gambling, but as tending to cherish expectations. 



which, in a fearful majority of cases, must termi- 
nate in disappointment. Yet the very same persons 
scruple not to hold out as incentives to good con- 
duct examples of success, that must create hopes 
equally deceptive. The apprentice is tanght to 
cherish the idea, that however humble his fortune, 
he may one day become Lord Mayor ; the midship- 
man is excited to emulation by the example of 
Nelson, and told that he ought not to despair of 
rising to the highest honors in his profession ; and 
whatever be the career in which the youthfol ad- 



THE LOTTERY TICKET. 



7cr 



^nturer sUrto for fortune or for fame, it is consid- 

wA not merely pardonable, but meritorious in 

^ to propose to himself the attainment of the 

ptatest prize it has to bestow. There is a Russian 

proTerb which aajs, ' He is a bad soldier that does 

Bot expect to become a general ;* yet were a whole 

vmjto consist of individuals combining the talents 

of in Alexander, a Csesar, and a Napoleon, it would 

be as impoasible that all should be commanders, as 

thtt in a Lottery eyery speculator should gain the 

^irnnd prize. 

Bat, the ** Lncky Comer" is gone ; or, rather, 
hough the identical house stands there yet, it no 
oager eon) urea up in the passers-by, dreams of 
ndden affloence, and of hoards of gold. There, at 
be foriwd triple way. Fortune soomcd with open 
rms to iuTite all who approached the spot, point- 
ig with one hand to the Bank, and with the other 

> the wealthy Lombard land. The Lottery, too, 
hatofer be alleged against it in other respects, 
loet be admitted to have frequently furnished an 
cpedlent to the novelist and dramatist, and en- 
vied them to extricate a hero from poverty and 
dee him at once to affluence, without killing a dis- 
int relative, or bringing an old uncle from India. 
. lottery ticket has, also, without doubt, given rise 

> many a strange incident, and it is hoped that 
le one I am now about to relate will not be found 
holly unamusing. 

Mr. Richard Fogrum, or, as his old acquaintance 
oeld more familiarly than respectfully designate 
im, Dick Fogrum, or, as he was sometimes styled 
a the superscription of a letter from a tradesman 
r poor relation, Richard Fogrum, Esq., had for 
vme years retired from business, although he had 
Dt yet passed what is called the middle age ; and, 
iming his back on his shop, where he had made, 
' not a considerable fortune, at least a handsome 
smpetency, rented a small house at Hackney, or, 
I he was pleased to term it, in the country. His 
stabliahment united a due attention to comfort, 
ith economy and prudence. Beside a kitchen- 
laid and an occasional charwoman or errand boy, 
[r. Fogrum possessed, in the person of the trusty 
ally Sadlina, an excellent superintendent of his 
ttle menoffe. Sally was not exactly gow^mante^ 
r housekeeper, at least she assumed none of the 
ignity attached to such a post ; she seemed indeed 
ardly to have a will or opinion of her own, but 
ad eo insensibly accommodated herself to her em- 
loyer's ways and humors, that by degrees the 
pparent distance between master and servant 
iminished, and as Sally^ though far from talkative 
erself^ was a good listener, Mr. Fogrum began to 
nd a pleasure in relating to her all the little news 
Dd anecdotes he usually picked up in his daily 
ralk. 

Let it not, however, be supposed that there was 
ay thing equivocal in the kind of unconscious 
dortesy which existed between these two person- 
^ ; a single glance at Sally would have convinced 
le most ingemous fabricator of scandal, and dealer 
I innuendoes, that here there was no foundation on 
hich to build even the slightest surmise of the 
ind, for both Sally's person and face were to her 
shield that would have rebutted any notion of the 
vrL Alas! that nature, so extolled by every 
)eC for her impartiality, should be at times so 
qvicioaa in her favors, and bestow her giils so 
rvd^gly, even on those whose very sex entitles 
Mm to be considered fair ! " Kind goddess," as 



Will of Avon styles thee, surely thou didst in this 
instance behave most unfairly, bestowing on Sally 
Sadlins an elevation of figure that, had she been of 
the other sex, might have raised her to the rank of 
a corporal of grenadiers. Yet, if thou gavest her 
an aspiring stature, thou gavest her no aspiring 
thoughts ; and if thou didst deny to her softness of 
person, fortunately for her peace, thou didst not 
gift her with the least susceptibility of heart. If 
Sally was not lovfoble^ there was no woman on 
earth who could possibly have regretted it less. 
Indeed, I may safely aver, the idea of love never 
for an instant entered her head, much less had a 
single twinge of it ever touched her heart. She 
had heard people talk of love ; and she supposed — 
if indeed she ever bestowed a thought on the sub- 
ject — ^that there must be something in the world 
so called, otherwise people would not have invent- 
ed a name for it : but she could no more pretend 
to say what it was, than to dewiribe the ingredients 
of the air she breathed : — In short, Sally was the 
mo.st guileless, simple, and disinterested of mortals 
that ever entered beneath the roof of a single gen- 
tleman, to be the first servant where there was no 
mistress. 

Well, therefore, might Mrs. Thoms, who was 
aware that elderly gentlemen in her '* dear" uncle's 
situation, are not always gifted with that discretion 
that beseems their years, but sometimes commit 
themselves to wedlock, in an unwary moment, to 
the no small prejudice of their aficctionate rela- 
tives ; — well, I say, might the prudent Mrs. Thoms 
congratulate herself on having found such a trea- 
sure, so invaluable a jewel, as Sally Sadlins. She 
was certain that from this quarter, at least, there 
was nothing to be apprehended — nothing to inter- 
cept her " dear" uncle's three per cents from what 
she considered the legitimate object of their desti- 
nation. Some alarm, indeed, had been excited in 
her mind, by hearing that Mr. Fogrum had been 
seen rather frequently of late knocking at the door 
of Mrs. Simpson ; but then again she thought that 
he could not possibly be led thither by any other 
motive than that of chatting away an hour with the 
widow of an old friend ; beside, this lady was not 
likely either to lead, or to be led, into matrimony. 
In her yoimger days Mrs. Simpson might have been 
pretty, but none of her acquaintance could recol- 
lect tehcn. She still patched ; yet the patch was 
applied not where coquetry would have placed it, 
but where neee^sity dictated, namely, over the left 
eye. Mrs. Thoms therefore consoled herself with 
the reflection, that it was better her uncle should 
knock at Mrs. Simpson's door than at that of a 
more attractive fair one. — No ! her uncle, she was 
perfectly satisfied, would never marry. 

"What have you got there, Sally?" said Mr. 
Fogrum to his housekeeper, one day, as she drew 
something from her pocket, while standing before 
the side-board opposite to him. " An't please you, 
sir," replied Sally, in a meek, but not very gentle 
voice, " it's a bit o' summat I was going to show 
you. You know, sir, my uncle Tim took leave of 
me yesterday, before he goes to sea again, and eo 
he gave me this paper, wliich he says may chance 
turn up tnunps, and make mo comfortable for 
life." 

" Well, let me see what it is, Sally — ^is it the old 
fellow's will ? — Hum ! — ^why, Sally, this is a Lottery 
ticket ! — a whole Lottery ticket ; yet I will venture 
to say not worth more than the rag of paper *tis 



THB LOTi'KKT TIOKKT. 



printed on. I htfe mjaelf tried the Lottery, times 
and often, ere now, and never got loj' thing but — 
diBappointment. — 'A blank, sir, & blank' — -that was 
the only answer I ever obtained from them. What 
could possiblf induce your uncle to layout his cash 
In BO foolish > mannerf 'Tia never worth either 
keeping or thinking about. Ko. 123, confound ill 
I know it well, 1 once purchased a ahare of it my- 
self—the Tory first I ever Ijought, when I was quite 
K lad ; and well do 1 recollect that I chose it out of 
■ whoto heap, and thought myself very fortunate 
in obtaining one with such a aequence of figures — 
ooe, two, three." 

UosC composedly did Sally take the ticket again, 
not at all disconcerted at thie denunciation of ill- 
luck, but on (he contrary, with a caimneHa worthy 
of a stoic. 'Tie true, she did not, like Patience on 
a monument, absolutely smile at grief ; but then, 
Solly never smiled; nor would a smile perhaps, if 
the rigidity of her face would have permitted such 
a relaxation of its muscles, have tended greatly to 
. heighten the attraction of her countenance. 

Her master in the meanwhile continued eating 
and wondering, and wondering and eating, until be 
could neither eat nor wonder more ; but dismissing 
Salty with the dinner thin^ turned himself quietly 
to the fire, and took his pipe. 

Mrs. Thome was sitting one morning cogitating 
on some mischief that she again began lo appre- 
hend from the Widow Simpson, in consequence of 
certain inielligenee she had the day before received, 
respecting that lady's deigns upon the person of 
her uncle, when she was suddenly startled from her 
reverie by a loud rapping at the door, and instantly 
afterwards who shoiJd enter the parior, but the 
very subject of her medilatioos — llrs. Simpson 
herself 

The appearance of so unusual a visitor would 
alone have sufficed lo surprise her ; but there was 
something in the good ladj'a manner and counte- 
nance, that denoted she came Upon a very import- 

" Why, Hrs. Thorns," exclaimed she, almost 
breathless, as soon as she entered, " have yon 
heard ? — your nncle" — 

"Good heavens!" cried Urs. Thorns, "what do 
you mean? — what has happened? — mjr poor dear 
uncle — ill — dying I" 

"Compose yourself, Mrs. Thoms — not dying — 
bnt I ibonght you might have heard" 

"Ileard what? — some accident, I suppose? — 
poor dear manl" 

" No : no accident," returned the widow, who 
by this lime had somewhat recovered her breath ; 
" but Fomething very strange — most unaccounta- 
ble. What you may ihink of it, I know not; but 
for my part I think tliaC Mr. Fogmm has acted — 1 
thM not say how." 

" And pray, ma'am," »&id Mrs. Thoms, who now 
began to Ihink that it was some quarrel between 
them, of which the widow came lo inform her, 
" what has Hr, Fogrum done, that you should come 
in this strange manner, and make so great a fuss 
about it ? It la some nonsense, after all, 1 dare say." 

"Nonsense, forsooth! — well, I declore ! — how- 
ever, it certainly is no business of mine, ma'am," 
returned Mrs. i^iinpson, quite nettled at her recep- 
tion ; " and as 1 suppose you know what has taken 
place, and approve of it, I have nothing further to 

Urs. Tboma now became unalTecledly alarmed, 




and apprehending she knew not what, reqnesied 
to be informedwhat had happened, without ftinher 

"Why, ma'am, then, Mr. Fogrum is married. 

that's all." 

To describe the effect those nords had npon Mrs. 
Thome, would be impossible, and to paint the 
expresuQn of her countenance, equally unavail- 
ing. 

" Harried !" screamed she out, at length, m soon 
OB she could draw her breath, " Married 1— impossi- 
ble— to whomf" 

"To whomf— to Sally Badlins, ma'am." 

"To Sally Sadlinsl— impoaaible — yon mnst bs 
joking." 

"Kot I, I assure you. I'm not a person, Tttt. 
Thoms, to make such jokes. I myself saw them, 
less than an hoar ago, pass by my window in a post- 
chaise together, and then learnt the whole (loir 
from those who saw them step into ii, at the chorch- 

"Oht Hrs. Smpson, how have I been deceived. 
in that insinuating hussy, Sally SadhnsI She wh» 
seemed so staid, so discreel — so very unlikely a- 
person, — What an old fool he must be, to marry lo 

vulgar a frump!" 

"Nay, do not agitate yourself, my dear ma'am,"* 
said Mrs, (•impson, who, now having disburthened 
herself of her secret, and her own mortification 
being perhaps carried off by that of Urs. Thoms's, 
which acted as a conductor to it, had quite regained 
her composure — -" for my part, 1 hope he may not 
repent of his match." 

" Oh 1 Thoms," exclaimed the other lady, as her 
husband entered the room, " here is ncwgforusl 
— my ully old uncle has actually, this very morning, 
married his maid-servant I" 

" That is most confoundedly unlucky," cried 
Thoms, " though I much doubted whether all your 
management in manoeuvring, for which you gave 
yODTVelf so much credit, would be to any pur- 



OZFOBD JOKEB. 



uf dear, there is no helping; tt ; uid 
Iter mil, dnce he i« nurriGd, it is quite ae 
I tkat hehu cboMD u he hu," 
Mm. Tbonu wu eJaculBtmg and beir^l- 
r abiidiig poor Sell; u an artful seducing 
in, vndw the mask of the grcaieat aitn- 
■d coatrired to work upon her uncle's 
MMlanntlTniitirnrTTr reproauhea against 
, ftr Mthring hinuelf to be Ihui duped, — 
iN wu aMD rolUng along on (be road to 
I dw Idaudcal pair aeated In it, wlio were 
it of tbia InTcctiTe and clamor. The io- 
,0f which Mi*. SmpeOD Imd been the un- 
WBaMDger, vaa, in faut, correct In every 
; lbrBkhardFogrum,unglD man, and Hilly 
llMtar, had that very morning been Uwfiilly 
wedlock, although, but a few duya before, 
OM prognoalicaced such an event, they 
■•n bare believed it poaalble thtm Hra. 
mlf. 

mj daar Bally," aaid the somewhat stale 
ilqfnghia hand, rather gently (ban amor- 
that of the bride, for which, by the bye, 
iBrBonateb in «iv — "I doubt not but 
wul be in a towering passion whi'u sbe 
tUi: however, no matter; let her, and 
it the world aay wiiat tbey pleue. I do 
rhj a man may not just as well fallow his 
lea aa those of other persons, iieuden, 
ash fblkt may think that J might have 
me advanlageous match, in point of for- 
ait, thej may perliapa be in error. 1 have 
f faitelligence to communicate, of which, 
fOu little dream. You recollect that Lol- 
rtT — well 1 passing the ' Lucky Corner,' by 
ion-Bonse, two days ago, I beheld, luutcil 
wiDdow, 'N'o. 1J», So.'itN)/.! r Hat ha! 
D did I recollect those figures again — one, 
el they follow each other aa naturally as 

Bo home I came, but determined to say 
if the matter tiU now." 
ider baa already been informed that Sally 
Boat nhtegmatic of her sei ; still it may 
Ned that such an interesting disclosure 
*e elicited some ejaculation of eiultaiioa, 
a the tips of a stoic. Yet Sally, with won- 
impoaure, merely replied, " La ! uovt that 




iohI yes, but I ai 

Jelling.'' 

; what an odd < 



re you it is quite true ; 
1 thlnga do sometimes 



bdeedl for who would have thought that 
ieal unlucky numtwr, H^, should bring 
May lay us, Sally, — twenty thousand 

rir, Mr. Fogmm, you are mUtaken. 1 



that the ntmiber of 



'■But, whitr 

" Why, jou won't hear me, Ifr. Fogrum," said 
Sally, mildly. "I vaa only going to say, that two 
months ago — I sold the ticket." 

"Uow!— wbalt — soldi" groaned out poor Fog- 
rum, and sunk gasping against the aide of thu cliaise. 

"Xow pray don't distrcM vourself, Mr. " 
"bout the least v; 

worth kee[)ing ; so I thought — ' w< 
master must know better about these matters than 
I, therefore I may as well moke somelhiu); of it 
while I can ;' so I changed it away for tbis nice 
white shawl, which the man said waa quite a bar- 
gain—only do feel how fine it i*." 

"Mly! — woman t — a bargain f — twenty thou- 
sand pounds P 

Here let me drop the curtain, for none bat a 
master-hand could do JuBtii:e to the bridegroom's 
feelings, and I will not impair the cfTecI by attemiit- 
ing to heighten it. I have only lo add, that Ur. 
Fogrum eventually regained his usual composure, 
and was once known even to relate the story bim- 
hclt over a gkss of bis best whisky, as a droll anec- 
dote in hia life. 

Matrimony made no visible alteration in his fiu- 
nagt, nor In his bride, for the only difference It 
caused with respect to the latter, was tliat she sat 
at table instead of standing by the sideboard, — 
that she was now called Urs. Fogrum, instead of 
."^lly Sadlins. 



» Jokes — A gentleman entered the room I 
(ton, Warden of Merton College, and told 
Di. Vowel was dead. '■ What I" said he, 
iwel dead I thank beuren it was neither 



WimEaAL, the Master of University College, 
went to Dr. Lcc, then sick in bed, and said — "So, 
Dr. Everleigh has beoQ egged on to matrimony." 
" Ha.* he ?" said be ; " why, then, I hope the yoke 
will Ht easy." 



770 



jl husband's yenoeanoe. 



A HUSBAND'S VENGEANCE. 



BT SHIRLEY BROOKS. 



Mrs. Morniroton Swale had contrived to get to- 
gether a very amusing set, but how she had man- 
aged it was one of those questions which, if put, in- 
dicate the possesnon of an inquiring rather than a 
practical mind. For, in the first place, nobody 
knew, and in the second, nobody cared. 

Indeed, the lady herself was a kind of mystery ; 
and if she had not given such very pleasant parties, 
it is probable that the carelessness we have alluded 
to might have been superseded by a spirit of inter- 
rogation. Her name was in the Coiu*t Ouide cor- 
rected up to April, and that was all. She never 
talked about her father, or her mother, or any 
other of the younj? people mentioned in the long 
list at the end ox the prayer-book, as folks one 
must not marry ; nor did she ever vaunt acquaint- 
tance with the Peerage, friendship with the Baron- 
etage, or intimacy with the Landed Commoners, as 
usual with genteel people of a certain order. When 
she had a box at the Opera, which happened about 
three times in the season, she never pretended to 
know who all the subscribers around her were ; 
and when we add that she insisted on listening to 
the muiiic instead of chattering during its perform- 
ance, we shall convince every reader of elegance 
that she was "not the sort of person to know." 
Nevertheless, a good many people held an opposite 
opinion, and proved that they did so, by coming to 
her parties. 

Mrs. Mornington Swale's beauty, — for though 
not a very young woman, she teas beautiful — was 
of the commanding order. Her height, queenly 
aspect, and glossy black braids, struck terror into the 
minds of youngish men, and made them very need- 
lessly stammer out greater nonsense than they had 
intended. Her arrangements were a little despotic, 
and it was not easy, even if you wished, to escape 
the partner or the companion to the supper-table 
whom she had selected for you. Everybody was a 
little afraid of her, and that is the truth. 

Her parties were, as aforesaid, very pleasant. 
She did not fill her rooms with negative eligi- 
bles — men who could only dress, and women who 
could only simper. She always infused a large 
quantity of character into her reunions ; — not that 
the individuals were much in themselves, but in the 
aggregate they gave a tone to the party. We 
used to meet a popular actor or two— generally 
dull creatures enough, who spent the evening in 
alternately droning and snarling upon dramatic 
matters. We had authors — small authors, but still 
men who occasionally rushed into print, and wished 
to be thought eccentric, and usually got tipsy at 
supper. We had very small poets, who utterly dis- 
believed in Byron and Moore, but believed a little in 
one another, and violently in themselves, and wrote 
stumbling odes about skipping-ropes and public 
executions. We had second-rate concert singers, 
chiefly with stubby fingers, who contributed greatly 
to the harmony of the evening, and sneered in 
corners at each other's performance. We had a 
few young barristers, who, by way of advertising 
their profession, mangled over every thing with 
much elaborateness of mariner, and blocked up the 



doorways, and talked about ** moot points, 
discomfiture of the listeners. And there 
German Count, who always came, aud wb 
moustaches and a very pensive ex presaioDf ai 
greatly addicted to declaring that he wanted 
thing to love him. Now, when the usual HU 
ball-room is diversified with shreds and fi 
such as we have mentioned, there is muw 
some fun ; and our opinion is, that fun it 
than formaUty, any day in the week. 

But apropos of days in the week, it was a c 
fact that there was certain days on whkd 
Mornington Swale was never at home ; new 
seen out, and never gave a party. And tl 
brought to our minds by the extraordinary in 
which we are about to relate. 

Mrs. Mornington had assembled one of Ik 
best of her parties. There was an exoellttn 
of pretty faces, and an acre or so of white wain 
and much polking. The actors were there, 
bling, and the authors were putting thematd 
mild attitudes, and the poets were gazing t 
at nothing, and the singers were looking S} 
and the barristers were squabbling outsid 
door, and the fat German Count was telling a 
lady, with a Norma wreath, that he wanted 
body to love him. The evening was going i 
markably well, and a large double quadi^l 
just been formed. Mrs. Mornington Swal 
standing up, at the top, with a very indii 
young poet, who would have made a very in 
ble scarecrow. 

We were just going to begin La Poule, w 
very loud voice was heard in the hall, annot 
that somebody, whose lungs were clearly in 
lent order, was determined to come up stairs, 
presently a group of the barristers was sea 
forward into the room, and rushing after thei 
into the very centre of the quadrille, came i 
short, very stout, and very sturdy man, in the 
est dress ever seen, his brawny arms bared 
elbows, and his whole apparel saturated with g 
Ue glared round upon us all — the effect wf 
matic. Nobody remembered to faint, an ov€ 
for which several young ladies never forgave 
selves. Mrs. Mornington Swale stood petrific 

*' Now, iSw«," said the stranger, confrontin 

** Now, Sue." And this to her ! Some 
half expected that ho would be annihilated, 
she continued aghast. 

*' Mark my words, Sue," continued the unk 
suddenly seating himself on the carpet, with f 
which made the lustres rattle, *' 1 told yoi 
if ever you dared to stay away from me on a 
ing-day, I'd come for you myself. Now you 
along. I've got a cab." 

He scrambled from the floor, and seized \ 
the wrist. Since the abduction of Don Juan 
statue, there never was so appalling a siti 
But, apparently stupified, Mrs. Mornington 
silently yielded. They disappeared together, 
out further explanation. 

But we agreed that though we had lo 
hostess, there would be no sense in losing oui 



ET. MICHAEL B EVE. 




So the German Count and (be TOODf; lady wllh tho disi^overed at six in the moniini;, endeaToriDg (o 
Xonna wreMb etood up in the pluci> of tlie dvpart- niski? a Ump-poBt in Bodford Square admit thai be 
ti. The quadrille was duncpd, mill bo were olber I wuiitL'd Koniebody to love him. Itut Ure, Morninf;- 
HOidrilleB, and supper waa ealen, atid all went Ion t^wale is as much a mjslery as ever, and what 
aanij — m merrily, tbat the Uerinau Count was ' is worse, she hu given no more parlies. 



ST. MICHAEL'S EVE. 



[ <rtLL tell to you a story, for in nintor Ctmr 

^ilh many an andent legend and tale of bygone 

^d methinks that there is in it enough t 

minute, 
°o, lo add to my vsin glory, I haro put it into 



As I heard it tou shall hear it, — by one «1iom I 

reTere.'lt 
"tt told me, 18 in childhood upon his kneo I aat. 
'l treats of days long Taniahed, — of the times of 

James the Banished, 
Of periwig and rapier, and quaint three-cornered hat, 

Sr Waller Ralph do Guyon, of a noble houac the 

Huueh hii< monarch was defeated, still held bravelv 
1. i,r. am. 

(laughter by tho Boync's ill- 

bcar with 



fated 
Wai *een bis knightly cognli 
bloody paws. 

BqI when the fight was over, escaping under covi 
Of tbe darkpeM and confusion, to England he r 



vW might be eipccted, dispirited, dejected, 
his r^o within him smouldered, nor ever 
briglitly burned. 

SaTC when his daughter Alice would say in i^yful 

maliee. 
That she lovod the gallant Orange much better than 

the Green ; 
And that as a maid she'd tarry, till she found a 

chance to marry 
With one true to 'WiUiam, her bold king, and Mary, 

her good queen. 

Then Sir Wnlter's brow would darken, and he'd 

mutter, -Alice, heiirken, 
By ni^ cluld no such treason shall be spoken e'en 

And bethink you, oh, my daughtcrl thero is one 

acriias the w.iicr 
Who shall one diiy have his own again, though now 



Liltte knew he that each e' 
d below hia daughter's 



:t the hours of 
, a whistle low 



772 



8T. MICHAEL'S EYE. 



And that soon as e'er it sounded through the wicket- 
gate Hhe bounded. 

And was claspt^d in the embrace of one of bold 
" King \ViUiam*8 Own.'* 

Ajl De Ruyter was a gentleman, and high-bred 

were his people ; 
No chapel-going folks were they, but loved a church 

and steeple I 
His blood, of every good Dutch race contained a 

little sprinkle — 
A Knickerbocker was his sire, his aunt a Rip Van 

Winkle ; 
And so well he danced and sang, and kissed and 

talked so wondrous clever, 
He gave this maiden's heart a twist, and conquered 

it for ever ! 
And being thus a captun gay, *' condemned to 

country quarters," 
A favorite of his royal lord, adorned with stars and 
garters. 

He saw this young maid. 
Ad one day on parade 
He was gaily attired, all jackboots and braid. 
He stared, she but glanced. 
Her charms it enhanced ; 
She paased him quickly, he rested entranced ! 
No orders he utters. 
But vacantly mutters 
(Though clamoring round him his underlings 

gabble hard), 
<* She's to me Eloisa ; to her I'll be Abelard !" 

And ever since that hour, whene'er he had the 

power. 
Across to bold Sir Walter's the captain bent his 

path; 
At the garden-gate he met her — upon his knee he 

set her — 
And, vanquished by the daughter's love, forgot the 

lather's wrath : 

Tin when on the day in question, with a view to 

aid digestion. 
Some retainers of Sir Walter, who with their lord 

had dined, 
Bethought of promenading, what by Gamp is called 

the "garding," 
And, during their researches, what think ye they 

should find ? 



But a gallant captain kneeling, and apparently ap- 
pealing. 

To a dame who, to all seeming, was encouraging his 
suit; 

All diahevelled were her tresses by the warmth of 
his caresses. 

And her eye with love was liqvidy although her 
voice was mute I 

*• A prize I a prize I" quoth these Papist spies, — 

** A prize for our gallant lord !" 
And before poor De Ruyter awoke from surprise 
They had pinioned his arms, they had bandaged 

his eyes ; 
And when he recovered, his first surmise 

Was ** At length, I am thoroughly floored!" 
For assistance he calls, but they gog him. 
And off to Sir Walter they drag him ; 



While Abraham Cooper, 

A stalwart old trooper. 
Expresses a hope that they'll " scrag ** him. 
He conceives it " a pretty idea, as 
To think that these Dutch furrineerers 

Should come here a-courtin'. 

On our manors eportin'; 
A set of young winkers and leerers!" 

Sir Walter's brow grew black as night, 
He doubted if he hoard aright ; 
" What, to my daughter kneeling here t 
Methinks thou'rt daring, cavalier, 
To venture 'neath the gripe of one 
Whose ancient race, from sire to son, 
Has ever, e'en in face of death. 
Upheld that pure and holy faith 

By thee and thine denied I 
Or think'st thou that, to bow the knee 
And whisper words of gallantry 
To one of English blood and birth, 
Were pastime meet for hour of mirth ? 
God's life I before to-morrow's sun 
Gilds yonder wood, thy race is run ; 
Nought care I for thy foreign king, 
From yon tall oak thy corpse shall swing, 

Let good or ill betide!" 

Away he is hurried. 

All worried and flurried, 
And locked in a chamber, dark, dirty, and small 

Huge barriers of iron 

The windows environ. 
And the door leads but into the banqucting-hall. 
The banqueting-hall is soon gaily lit up, 
For Sir Walter loved dearly a w^ell-tilled cup, 

And sent to invite 

Each guest that night. 
With " Where you have dined, boys, why there y 
shall sup." 

In the banqueting-hall. 

Both great and small. 
The cavalier knights, the retainers tall. 
Together are gathered — one and all. 

The red wine has flowed and taken effect 
On all, save poor Alice, who, distraite^ deject. 
Has refused to take part in this riotous revel. 
And wished those who did with the — ^Father 
Evil 

The mirth was at its loudest, the humblest and t 

proudest 
Were hobnobbing together, as though the dear 

friends ; 
While some for wine were bawling, there wi 

others loudly calling 
For a song, — that ancient fiction which e*er 

misery tends ; 

When Sir Walter grasped the table-— rose, aa w 

as he was able — 
And entreated for a moment that his guests woi 

give him heed : 
** Tis St. Michael's Eve, — a time accursed by acrii 
Committed by my ancestor — a ruthless, bloo 

deed! 



BT. MICHAEL B KVE. 



** For doling UmM «f danger, a lable-amond 
One Bi^t bul roiued the culls, uiil sbelter had 
Hacli gdi, he a^d, he etnied, and now too Ute had 



To , 



t the c 
naghboiing ford. 



I the 



" He iraa ahown Into a bedroom, ^oe tbst period 

caUed the Bed Room, 
(Ton cao ne It," «^d Sir Walter, " for yonder is 

the door ; 
And there. In oar Mfe keeping, the Dut«bmui dow 

ia aleepiDg) ; 
And from that room the atranger neTer, never ia- 

"Bat thronghont thU ancient caitle, each terTor> 

alricken vasMl 
Se«rd ahriek on ahrlek reaounding la the middle of 

the night ; 
Aj)d witb the dawtt of morning would each hare 

'given warning,' 
Bat for one little olMwicle jclept the ' feudal right.' 

" So no murm'ring e'er was atlered, and old Kr 

Brand reth muttered 
l*tiM hll vimtor Iiad left him aa aoon aa break of 

But one thing worth attention Sir Brandrelh didn't 

mention, — 
He didn't take hia armor ; thei« In the room it lay. 

** Ajid there It lies at present; but each ereduloua 



111 Juat about his hour, if he really have the potter, 
We DOW shall see him. HeaTenl I he enten, by the 
Lordl" 

Bangi clash! 

With ■ terrible cmah, 

Flies open the bedroom door ; 
And out stalks a figure. 
To their ejea much bigger 
Than great Gog or Hagog, more black than a 

nigger, 
Id armor accoutred from head to heel, — 
Black ruetr old armor, not polished steel. 
His viior is dowD, but be takes a sight. 
Though be morea not hia eyes to the left or right ; 
He savB not a word, but he walks straight ou, 
The hall doors ope at his step ! he's gone I 
He clanks 'cioss the courl-yard, and enters the 

stable ; 
Hia footsteps are heard bj the guaatt 'neath xbi 

table, 
For there they hare hidden them every one. 

There, shivering and shaking, they wuled till the 

breaking 
Of the dsyllght ahowed tbe power of all ghosts was 

Then one by one uprising, declared it was aurprising 
That, overcome by liquor, each had dropped down 
by hia friend ; 



s lightened by finding that 



Till the heart of each w 

as frightened 
Aa he himself were all by the spiritual eight; 
But their courage and their iirength ooming back 

to them at length. 
They hasten to the priaoner'a room, and find it 




774 



WHO MILKED MY CX)W ; OE, THE MABINE OH08T. 



Yes I De Ruyter had departed ! for while lying all 

downhearted, 
And thinking of poor Alice, he remembered just in 

time 
The spectre-walking legend — ^he had heard it from 

a ** peagant " 
(Excuse the Gampism, reader, but I use it for the 

rhyme) ; 

And on the instant brightening, he proceeded, quick 

as Ughtning, 
To dress him in the armor which the sable knight j 

had left ; 
And he listened to the host, till, at mention of the 

ghost. 
He burst upon the drinkers, of their senses nigh 

bereft. 

He called Alice to the stable ; then, as fast as he 
was able, 

Ghdloped off towards his quarters ; thence to Lon- 
don hastened on ; 



There was married to his charmer, thence sent back 

the sable armor, 
And asked Sir Walter's sanction to the good deed 

he had done. 



My tale is nearly ended. Sir Walter, much offended 

At the hoax played off upon him, would not listei 
for awhile ; 

But regretting much his daughter, came at lengti 
to town and sought her. 

For he niisjiicd her childish prattle and her fond en- 
dearing smile. 

And then, on this occasion, a grand reconciliation 
He had with young De Ruyter— ever after thej 

were friends. 
So baring now related the tale to me as stated, 
I take my humble leave of you, and here my story 

ends. 



■♦♦♦■ 



M 



"WHO MILKED MY COW?" OR, THE MARINE GHOST. 

BY EDWARD HOWARD, R. N. 



Captain the honorable Augustus Fitzroy Fitz- 
alban, of that beautiful ship his Majesty's frigate 
Kienia, loved many things. The first lieutenant, 
the doctor, the marine officer, the ofiScer and the 
midshipman of the morning watch, hud all assem- 
bled to breakfast in the cabin. They had not for- 
gotten their appetites, particularly the gentlemen 
of the morning watch. They were barbarous and 
irate in their hunger, as their eyes wandered over 
cold fowl and ham, hot rolls, grilled kidneys, and 
devilled legs of turkey. 

** By all the stars in heaven,** said the honorable 
commander, **no milk agun this morning! Give 
me, you rascally steward," continued the captain, 
"a plain, straightforward, categorical answer. Why 
does this infernal cow, for which I gave such a heap 
of dollars, give me no milk ?" — '* Well, sir," said 
the trembling servitor; *Mf, sir, you must have a 
plain answer, I really — believe — it is— because — I 
don't know." 

"A dry answer,** said the doctor, who was in 
most senses a dry fellow. 

** You son of a shottea herring!** said the cap- 
tain, "can you milk her?" — "Yes, sir." 

"Then why, in the name of all that is good, 
don*tTOu?** — "I do, sir, but it won*t come." 

"Then let us go," said the captain, quite re- 
signedlTf " let us go, gentlemen, and see what ails 
tlds innmal cow ; I can't eat my breakfast without 
milk, and breakfast is the meal that I generally 
ei\joy most." 

So he, leading the way, was followed by his 
company, who cast many a longing, lingering look 
behind. 

Forward they went to where the cow was staUed 
by capstan-bars, as comfortably as a prebendary, 
between two of the guns on the maindeck. She 
seemed in excellent condition ; ate her nutritious 
food with much appetite ; and, from her appearance, 
the captain might have very reasonably expected, 
not only an ample supply of milk and cream for 
breakfast ind tea, but lUso a sufficient quantity to 
afford him custards for dinner. 



Well, there stood the seven officers of his Ma- 
jesty's naval service round the arid cow, looking 
very like seven wise men just put to sea in a bowl. 

" Try again," said the captain to his servant. If 
the attempt had been only fruitless, there had been 
no matter for wonder ; it was niilkless. 

"X^lie fool can't milk," said the captain; then 
turning round to his officers despondingly, he ex- 
claimed, " gentlemen, can any of you ?" 

Having all protested that they had lefl off, some 
thirty, some forty, and some fifty years, according 
to their respective ages, and the marine officer say- 
ing that he never hud had any practice at all, hav- 
ing been brought up by hand, the gallant and dis- 
appointed hero was obliged to order the boatswain's 
mates to pass the word fore and aft, to send every 
one to him who knew how to milk a cow. 

Seventeen Welshmen, sixty-five Irishmen, (all on 
board,) and four lads from Somersetshire made their 
appearance, moistened their fingers, and set to 
work, one after the other ; yet there was no milk. 

" What do you think of this, doctor ?" said the 
captain to him, taking him aside. 

" That the animal has been milked a few hours 
before." 

" Hah I If I was sure of that. And the cow 
could have been milked only by some one who eoM 
milk ?" 

" The inference seems indisputable." 

The captain turned upon the numerous aspirants 
for lacteal honors with no friendly eye, exclaiming 
sorrowfully, " Too many to flog, too many to flog. 
Let us return to our breakfast ; though I shall not 
be able to eat a morsel or drink a drop. Here, 
boatswain's mate, pass the word round the ship that 
ril give five guineas reward to any one wlu> Will 
tell me who milked the captain*s cow." 

The gentlemen then all retired to the cabin, and, 
with the exception of the captain, incontinently fell 
upon the good things. Now, the midshipman of 
that moming'» watch was a Mr. Littlejohn, usually 
abbreviated into Jack Small. When Jack Small 
had disposed of three hot rolls, half a fowl, and t 



WHO UILKED MT COW : OR, THE MARIMK OIIOOT. 




id of bkin, and was handing in his plate for a 
veil devilled turkey's thigh, his eye fell compaasion- 
llelj apon hia futinf; captain, and his hpirt opening 
lo the totter emotions as his Btomach fillcil with his 
hm'i deUcades, the lattcr's want of the milk of the 
(ow stirred up within him hia own milk of human 



appetite, 



"I am Tery lorry that vou have 
NJd Jack Small, with liU mouth eery 
prutectiiigly, to his skipper ; " very sorrr. indeed, 
rir ; Mid, aa you cannot make voiir brenkfa<:t with- 
out any milk, I think, eir, that the midsliipmen'a 
berth could lend jou a bottle." 

"The deril thej can, younker. Oh, obi It's 
|»od and freah, hp'y ?" 

" Very good and fresh, sir," said the midshtpnian, 
nmmlng down the words with a large wadding of 
bDt roll. 

" Wb must borrow some of It, by all means," said 
the captain; "but let the midshipmen's servant 
bring it here himBclf." 

The neceuary orders having been issued, the 
bottle of milk and the boy appeared. 

" Did JOU know," said Captain Titzalban, turning 
to hisflrfrt lieatenanl. "that (he midshipmen's berth 
■aa provided with milk, and that too after being at 
Ha a month T" — "Indeed I did not; they are better 
[Hwided than we are, at least in this respect, in 

" Do you think,— do you think," said the captain, 
trembUtig with rage, " that any of tlio yonrig black- 
guards dare milk my cowT" — " It is not easy to say 
what they dare not do." 

However, the cork was drawn, and the milk 
found not only to be very freah inilepd, but most 
•Rlpjcioualy new. In the latitude of the Caribbean 
Islands, liquids in general are eufficienlly warm, so 
tbe captain could not by much stress upon that. 

" As fine milk as ever I tasted," said tlie cap- 



"Wbero do the yotuig gentlemen procure it!" 



. of John Small int. 
crpam-jug, and moving it close to his Own plate. — 
" It stands Of rather dear, wr," said Mr. Liitlqohn, 
— " a dollar a bottle. We buy it of Joe Grummet, 
tlie cnplniti of the naisters." 

The captain and first lieutenant looked at each 
other anutlernble thiii^. 

Joe Grummet was in the cabin in an instant, 
and tbe captain bending upon him hia sharp and 
angry glances. Joseph was a sly old file, a waman 
10 the bncklione; and let the breeio blow from 
what quarter of the compass it ii'ould, he bad al- 
ways an eye to windward. Fifty years had a little 
grizzled liiii strong black hair, and, though innova- 
tion had deprived him ot the masdre tail that whi- 
lom hung behind, there were still some fancy cnris 
that corkscrewed themselves down hU weather- 
stained ternptes; and, when he stood before the 
captain, in one of these he hitched tbe first bend of 
tlie immense forefinger ot his right hand. He hob- 
bled a little in his gnii, owing to an uaeitractcd 
musket-ball that had lod(^d in his thigh ; conse- 
quently be never went aloft, and had been, for his 
merits and long services, appointed captain of the 

Tlie tlonorahle Augustus Fitiror Fitialban said 
to the veteran mariner quickly, ami pointing at the 
same time to the empty bottle, "Grummet, you 
have milked my cow!" — " Unpoasible, eJrl" said 
Grummet, bobbing at a bow ; " downright unpos- 
riblc, your honor." 

"Then, pray, whence comes tbe fresh milk you 
sell every morning 10 the young gentlemen!" — 
■' Please your honor, I took two or three dozen of 
bottles to'sea with me on a kind o' speculation." 

"Grummet, mj man, I am afraid this will turn 
out a bad one for you. Go and show your bands, 
to the doctor, and he'll ask you a few queslions." 

So Joseph Grummet went and expanded his flip- 
pers before the eyes of the surgeon. They were 
nearly as large and aa shajiely as the fins of a por- 
poise, and quite of the color. They had been tanned 
and tarred tilt their skin bad became more durable 



776 



WHO MILKED MT COW ; OB, THE UABJNK OH06T. 



than boot-leather, and they were quite rough enough 
to have rasped close-graincd wood. 

" I don*t think our friend could have milked your 
cow, Captain Fitzalban," said the doctor ; ** at least, 
not with hia hands : they are rather calculated to 
draw blood than milk.* 

Joseph rolled his eyes about and looked his inno- 
cence most patheticidly. Ue was not yet quite out 
of danger. 

Now there was every reason in the world why 
this cow should give the captain at least a gallon of 
milk per diem — but one, and that he was most 
anxious to discover. The cow was in the best con- 
dition ; since she had been embarked, the weather 
had been fine enough to have pleased Europa her- 
self; she had plenty of provender, both dry and 
fresh. There were fragrant clover closely packed 
in bags, delicious oat-cakes — ^meal and water, and 
fine junks of juicy plantain. — ^The cow throve, bat 
gave no milk I 

** So you brought a few dozen bottles of milk to 
sea with you as a venture ¥** continued the man of 
medicine in his examination. — ^' I did, sir.'* 

" And where did yon procure them ?" — ** At Eng^ 
lish Harbor, sir." 

** May I ask of whom ?** — ** Madame Juliana, the 
fat free Negro woman." 

" Now, my man," said the doctor, looking a 
volume and a lialf of Galen, and holding up a cau- 
tionary fore-finger — " now, my man, do not hope 
to deceive me. How did you prevent the acetous 
fermentation from taking place in these bottles of 
nulk?" 

The question certainly was a puzzler. Joe routed 
with his fingers among his hair for an answer. At 
length he fancied he perceived a glimmering of the 
doctor*s moaning ; so he hummed and ha-cd, until, 
the doctor^s patience being exhausted, he repeated 
more peremptorily, " How did you prevent acetous 
fermentation taking place in these bottles of milk ?" 

** By paying ready money for them, sir," said the 
badgered seaman, boldly. 

" An excellent preventative against fermentation 
certainly," said the captain, half smiling. **But 
you answer the doctor like a fool.*' 

**I was never accused of such a thing, please 
your honor, before, sir," said tarrybrecks, with all 
his sheets and tacks aboard. 

*' Very likely, my man, very likely," answered 
the captain, with a look that would have boon in- 
valuable in a vinegar manufactory. ^' How did you 
prevent this milk from turning sour ?" 

** Ah, sir !" said Grummet, now wide awake to 
his danger : ** if you please, sir, I humbly axes your 
pardon, but that's my secret." 

*' Then by all that's glorious Til flog it out of you." 

" I humbly hopes not, sir. I am sure your honor 
won't flog an old seaman who has fought with Howe 
and Nelson, and who was wounded in the sarvice 
before your honor was born ; you won't flog him, 
sir, only because he can't break his oath." 

" So you have sworn not to divulge it, hey ?" 

** Ah, sir ; if I might be so bold as to say so, your 
honor's a witch !" 

*^ Take care of yourself, Joseph Grummet ; I do 
advise you to take care of yourself. Folly is a great 
betrayer of secrets, Joseph. Cunning may milk 
cows without discovery: however, I will never 
punish without proof. How many bottles of this 
excellent milk have you yet left?" — "Eight or ten, 
sir, more or lesa, according to sarcnniatanoes*" 



"Well! I will give you a dollar a-piece for aU 
you have." 

At this proposition Joseph Grummet shuffled 
about, not at all at his ease, now lookine very saga- 
cious, now very foolidi, till, at last, be brdught 
down his feaU^res to express the most deprecating 
humility of which their iron texture was capable, 
and he then whined forth, "I would not insult you, 
sir, bv treating you all as one as a midshipman. No, 
your honor : I knows the respect that's due to you, 
— ^I couldn't think of letting yon, sir, have a bottle 
under three dollam^it wouldin't be At all respectful 
like." 

"Gnunmet," said Captain ilinlban, "you are 
not only a thorough seaman, but a thorough knave. 
Now, iMfTe you the consdence to make me pay three 
dollars a bottle for my own milk?''— "Ah, sir, you 
don't Imow how maoh the secret has cost me." 

• ** Nor do .yoa knew bow desrly.lfe may cost voa 
yet." 

Joseph Grummet then brosgbt ipto the cabin his 
remaining stock in trade, wlikm, instead of eight or 
ten, was found to consist only of two bottles. The 

ptain, though with evident chagrin, paid for them 
honorably ; and whilst the milkman pro temp, was 
knotting up the six dollars in the tie of the hand- 
kerchief about his neck, the skipper said to him, 
*' Now, my man, since we part such good friends, 
tell me your candid opinion concerning this oow of 
mine ?" — " Why, sir, I thinks as how it's the good 
people as milks her." 

"The good people, who the devil are they?"-^ 
" The fairies, your honor." 

"And what do they do with it ?" — " Very few can 
tell, your honor ; but those who gets it are always 
desarving folks.** 

" Such as old wounded seamen, and captains of 
the waist especially. Well, go along to your duty. 
Look out I eaU love milk." 

So Joseph Grummet went forth from the cabin 
shrugging up his shoulders, with an onunous pre- 
sentiment of scratches upon them. The captain, 
the Honorable Augustus Fitzroy Fitzalban,.gave the 
marine ofticer orders to place a sentry night and 
day over his cow, and then dismissed his guests. 

The honorable commander was, for the rest of 
the day, in a most unconscionable ill-humor. The 
ship's sails wore beautifully trimmed, the breeze 
was just what it ought to- have been. The hesTens 
above, and the waters below, were striving to out* 
smile each other. What then made the gallant cap- 
tain so miserable ? He was thinking only of the 
temerity of the man who had dared to milk kU eotk 

The first lieutenant touched his hat most respectp 
fully to the Honorable Captain Augustus FitMxoj 
Fitzalban, and acquainted him that the sun indk* 
catcd it to be twelve o'clock. 

" Milk my cow I" said the captain abstraetedly. 

" Had not that better be postponed till to-mor- 
row morning. Captain fitzalban?'' said the llenp 
tenant, with a very little smile ; " and in the mean 
time may we strike the bell, and |»pe to dinner t^ 

The captahi gazed upon the gaUaat officer ao^• 
rowfully, and, as he shook his head, his looks isid 
as plainly as looks could speak, and with the deepsil 
pathos, " They never milked Ats cow.** 

" Do what is necessary," at last he uttered; tbea 
pulling his hat more over his eyes, he condued to 
pace the quarterdeck. 

Now, though the Honorable Captain Angmtoi 
Fitzroy Fitialban was the younger son of A Mble- 



VraO ItflLKED MY OIW : OK, TnE MA.ItnTE 0H09T. 



nuD, uid enjoyed a Ttrj handaonie patrimonT, and 
liu temiwr had bren thoroti);)il}' niKiili'd by th&t 
procna that u too oftrn called eilucaliun. ji-t liii< 
heut wu raunU, Eiiglinh, mad noble. lie rei □Iti'd 
from dmnf; an uiijuat aviion ; yet he Moaned drvud- 
iully under the iiiipreHion that he wu vhoutcd and 
lmii):hed at to hu very face. He did not tlijiik tlint 
•ToHldi Gruiuuiet hud milked hid cow, but he felt 
a^^nred that the nine milk-dealing Jn»'|ih knew 
'^t-ho did ; yet wm Iio too liuiiiaiie to introduce llic 
InqiuHtion on board liiH ship by citracliiig the 
ft- ruth by lortare. 

Tbe Ilononble Captain Fluroy Fitialban slept 
Inte on the rncceeding mnrniiif;. lie hnd been 
Called at daylight, jiro forma, but had merely turned 
from hia lelt side to bu right, mutti'riug romettiing 
Kbout a cow. It must b« auppoHed that tliu iiliiin- 
1>eM of the moniing iiidemnitiud him for the borron 
or the night, for brcakfiaiit was on. the table, and the 
XiHual gueata asaemblcd, when tho captain ciuei^-U 
from the Bfte>uabln. 

There was no occanloa to ask the pale ami trem- 
Idling steward if the cow had given any milk that 
xnoming. 

Tbe breakfan retnained untotiehed by the cap- 
tain, and puwd off in active Mleocc by his gue^Is. 
Kol wishing to excite more of the deriitiaa of Jack 
thau waa aheolately necessary, the captain, when 
lie found that the rarlona officers whom he hiid in- 
Tited to breakfast had suOHcientty "improTrd llie 
occasion," as the methodints say, turned tn the first 
lieutrnant, who waa again his RUe^l, and asked him 
if nothing bad Imniipired ou the oier-iiight to war- 
isnl a sii.ipicion as to the tactual felony. 

Tbe lirat laff looked very inTflterionn, and not 
■holly db-po»cd to be comniunicaiive upon the sub- 
ject. Be bod been piounly brought up, and waa 
not at all inclined to be aareaatiu apon the Suoro of 
Ti^iona or the vtsilatian of ghwls ; yet, Bt the nanie 
time, he did not wish to subject himself lo the ridi- 
cule of bia eaptoio, who hnd rationally enough post- 
Ceil hi* belief in appariliona until he had aeen one. 
ler thaae diffioul^a, be reidied hnKiMtingly, that 
aghiMt had been reported as having "come on 
board before daylight in the morning, without 
leave." 

" A ghost, Hr. HitcheH, come on board, and I 
not callcdl" aaid tbe indignant capinin: "By 
heaven, sir, I would have turuod out a guard of 
honor to have received him! I would have sooner 
had a viirit from hia afNrituality than from bia Ex- 
eeDency tbe SpaniHhAiDtMusador. — The service, sir. 
Las come to a pretty pass, when a ghost can come 
on board, and leave the ship loo, 1 presume, with- 
out even eo much aa die boauvain to pipe the aide. 
So the ghost came, I Buppose, and milked my 

The Gnt lienteout, in answer, apoke with all 
manner of humility. He repmented that he had 
been educated aa a seaman and as an officer, and 
not foradootOFof divinity; tberefbre he could not 
pretend to account for theae preternatural visita- 
tioaa. He could only atate the fact, and that not 
so wen aa the fliet lii 
b^ned, thereibre, to refer 

net officer waa inunediattij aent for, and he 
made hia appearance accompanied by one of the 
seige«nta, and then Ii waa asserted that, when the 
guard went round to relieve the sentriee, they found 
^ man who bad been al4tioued over the cow, ly- 
ing on lh« deck aenwlMM hi a flt, and hi* bayonet 



could nowhere be found. When br the menns of 

ouc of the assist a nt-^urtrcons, who had been imnic. 
diaiily HiimuioM'd, \w liml been iiufficiently rei-ov- 
ert'd to arliculatc, all the explanation lliey could 
get from him wu.i, that he had seen a ghost i and 
the very mention of the fact, so great waa his terror, 
had almost caused a relajise. 

'■Send the jioltnioti hi're immediately; I'll phoat 
him !" cried the enraged captuin. In aiixwcr lo 
this he was ittfomied, that the man lay seriously ill 
in hill hammock in the sii'k.bay, and that the doctor 
was at lliat very mnuiciit with the patient. 

" I'll see him mysi'lf," said the captain. 

Aa the honombie captuin, with hu corltije of offl- 
eers, poswd alo[ig the decks on bU way to the sick- 
bar, he thought — or his i^nso of hearing most 
Rrii'vously deceived him — that more than once he 
heard Bncering and giliing voices exclaim, " Who 
milked my cow)'" but the moment he turned his 
head in the direction from whence the sounthi pro- 
ceeded, he saw nothing but vi.tugeA the most lane- 
limonioua: Indeed they, instead uf the unfortunate 
aeiitry, appeared tu have seen the ghont. The ca|>. 
tain's amiability that morning might have been ex- 
pressed by tlie algebraical term — minus a cipher. 

When the vkipper liuulcdulongKide the fickman, 
he found that the doctor, having bled him, was 
preparing to blister hi* head, the ship's barber at 
llic time being occupied in very sedulously shaving 
it. The ]ijilicnt was fast pultitig biin.'elf'^upun an 
equality to contend with his supernatural viiulaiit, 
by making a ghost of liiniself He was In a high 
fever and delirinua, — impkosant Ihiugn in the West 
Indiesl All the captain could get from him was, 
•■Tlie dcvil—flaslies of fire — milk cow— horrible 
teeth — devil's cow — ship haunted — nine yards of 
blue fiume — throw cow overboard — go lo heaven 
— kicked the pnil down — boms tipped with red-hot 
iron," and other rluipeodics to the same effect. 

From the man the captain went to the cow ; but 
she was looking eicesaively sleek, and mild, and 
amiable, and eating her breakfast with the relUh of 
an outnde maiWoaeh passenger. The captain shook 
bia bead, and thought himself the moat peraecuted 
of beings. 

When thip self-estimated injured character g^ned 
the quarter-deck, he commenced rumlnadng on the 
propriety of fiogging Joseph Orununat; for, irith 
the loss of his cow'a milk, he had loat tU dM MnM_ 
of humon kindness. But, aa the LorA«f'# 
niiralty bad lately ineidted upon a 
-warded to them of every punishment t 

place, tbe numberof lashei, aodthe ericn*: _ 
They were inflicled, the Honorable Iha ( 
Aiif'iiBtus FItiroy Filialban thought that tt 
would look rolher qut .. _ .. 

Crnmiuel, caplajn of t! 
my cow gave no milk, 
vine SnickcbOpa sSW B 
midfihipmen sundry bo 
irnaginnilon remindtd k 
this highly-gifted obM 



ping to windi 

The captah»' 
looking fealf 




Mr. Litll^obnl" 
Lui erowled over tiM 
1 ill-filed aav 
Small Jack 



WHO UILKEl) IIY COW ; OR, TIIE U.VBIMB CH09T. 



iilnrly. he lauonicallj ultcrrd, "Milk lluB morning?" 
Tlir voll-brcakfastcd midshipmin licked hia lips, 



;c to rend him »ft." — 



All thit roK^nnon, the captnin knpt oBici-r> ind 
men eiiTi-l-inK llii" prpfit. innui, miiiilti;» tliein in 
atul out, puiiitiii^ rhini here and liu'rc ; — Mil-lrin- 
niera nlotl — liounlere on the Rinrbo;ird bow — drr- 
Dii-n donn in the fore-liold; llie men bkd liM i 
nicinient's respite, nor the oIHeeni oiilier. Hot po- 

tenily in their hearts they d d the CO*, tm 

I'rom the lipe of her honu unto the tufl adhui'Dd 




And there etoo<l the capttin of the waiiit, with 
hia hat in hia hand, opposite to the captain of the 
aliip. There was some difference between Ihoiic 
two enptoiiiH ;— one rcrpng upon old age, the other 
uno[i niaiilioud. The oid man with but two urtieloa 
of dreDX upon hia person, a ennras aliirt and a can- 
vaHi jHiir of troiinera, — for in thane Utitndes shoea 
Bnd stockinpn are diaix'tised niili hj the foremast 
meo, cicc|iiiiig on Sunilayii and icbeu mustering at 
diTJsiotia; the other par, and and almost porgeoiu, 
In white jeuJi!^ broadeloih, nnd f;old. There they 
stood, the one tlie |>erm>iiilicallon of Ineck^c^igl, ibe 
other of huuplity anper. However flrin iniglit bavo 
been tbo uaptain's Intentions to cunvict the man 
before bini by an intriealc cro^-o lamination, hLi 
warmth of temper defeati'd tlieni at onee, for the 
old aeanian looked more Iban usually innoconl and 
aheepieb. Thia almost stolid equanimity wm sadly 
provukins 

" You iiipolent seoimdrcl! — who milked my fow 
lart night?" — "The Lord in lieaven known, your 
honor. Who could it be, sir. niiboiit it vaa the 
ghoHt who has laid that poor tad iu hia uek liain- 
inockl^ 

"And I Biippoec that the gliost ordered tou to 
hand ihe mitk to the young gentlemen when he had 
donei" — "Me, wr! Heaven save nie! I never 
ae'ed a ghost in my life." 

"liypocritel the hotllc you sold the midship- 
men :"— " One your honor, I'hroopht from Antigua, 
and which I overlooked ycptcrday." 

" I shall not overlook' it when I get you to the 
fangway. Go, Mr. Litllejohii, give orders to beat 
to quarters tho moment the men have bod their 



of her talL live Mcret resolves were made in 
poiFon her that hard-worked morning. Ur, Smi'll 
Jack, who was stationed at the fonimaiit mnin-deck 
gun-i near her, pure her a kiek every time x\w 
order came from the ([uarter-dcck to ram home wad 
and shot. 

Well, this Bweltenng work, under a tropical eim. 
proeeeded till noon, the captain allcmately swear- 
ing at the officpra for want of energy, and eichiiin- 
ing to him Pelf indignantly, "How dnrc they milk 
my cowl There must bo several concerned. Send 
. the carpenter aft. Mr. Wedge, rig both the chain- 
' pumps. — turn the water on in the weU. Waislers! 
I man the pumpe, Whcre'a thai Grummet? Boat*- 
wain's mnten. ont with your colle and lay them over 
the nhonldera of any man that shirks his duty : keep 
a sharp eye on the captain of tlie waist." 
I And thus the |iaor feUowa had, Ibr n finii^ to 
their morning's labor, a hulf-hour of the most over- 
' ponering eicrlfon to which yon can set mortal 
' man, — tluit of working at the chain-pimipsi. When 
I Ur. Littlejohn saw elderly Joseph (irummet stripped 
- to the waist, the perspiration streaming down him 
I in bnekeifuls, and panting as it were for hU very 
life, he, the said Small Jack, very rightly optied 
, that no milk would bo fortheoming next ni'oming. 
I At noon the men were as usual piped to dbioer, 
I with an eici'lleni appetite for their pork and pcvc, 
and a thirsty rclii'h tor their grog ; for which bless- 
ing.' they had the cow alone to Uiank. They wen 
very ungrateful. 

Ko sooner was the hour of dinner over than th« 
captain ail of a audden discovered that Us Mf't 
company were not amart enough In tceflog topMm 
I So at It they went, racing up and down t£a i^^b^ 



WHO ItlLKED MY COW ; OR, THE MARINE OQ08T. 



779 



tricing up and laying out, lowering away and hoist- 
ing, until six beil8, three o'clock, wlicn tho ungry 
and hungry captain went to his dinner. He had 
made himself more unpopular in that day than any 
other commander in the fleet. 

The dinner wub unsocial enough. AVhen a man 
ia not satisfied with himKelf, it is rarely that ho is 
satisfied with any body eUe. Now tlic whole chip's 
company, officers as well as men, wore divi(U>d into 
parties, and only two, respecting this afiiiir of the 
cow ; one believed in a sui)oniutural, the other in a 
roguish agency ; in numbers they wore about e(|ual, 
so that the captain stood in the pleasant predica- 
ment of bring looked upon in a sinful light by one 
half of his crew, and in a ludicrous one by the other. 

However, as the night advanced, and the marine 
who had seen the cow-spirit grew worse, the be- 
lievers in the supernatural increased rapidly ; and, 
as one sentinel was found unwilling to go alone, the 
cow had the distinguished compliment of a guard 
of honor of two all night. The captain, with a 
Bcomful defiance of the spiritual, would allow of no 
lights to be shown, or of no oxtniordinary precau- 
tions to be taken. He only nignitied his intentions 
of having himself an interview with the ghost, and 
for that purpose he walked the d<>ck till midnight ; 
but the messenger from the land of spirits did not 
choose to show himself so early. 

Let me hear no more any quenilous talk of the 
labor of getting butter to one's bread — no person 
could have toiled more than the Honorable ('ai>- 
tain Augustus Fitzroy Fitzalban to get milk for his 
breakfast. 

The two sentries were relieved at twelve o'clock, 
and, for a quarter of an hour after, every thing re- 
maining dark and quiet about the haunted cow, the 
captain went below and turned in, joyfully antici- 
pative of milk and cream in the morning. He left, 
of course, the most positive orders that the moment 
the ghost appeared, he should bo I'alled. 

Mr. Mitchell, the pious first lieutenant, remained 
on duck, detennined to see the sequel; told the 
master he was much troubled in spirit, and he 
thought, with all due deference to the articles of 
war, and respect for the captain, that he was little 
better than an infidel, and an over bold tempter of 
God's providence. The master remarked in reply, 
that it was an affair entirely out of soinulings ; but 
very sagely concluded that they should see what 
they should see, even if they saw nothing. 

It was a beautiful night— darkly, yet, at the same 
time, brightly beautiful. There was no moon. The 
pure fires above were like scintillations from the 
crown of God's glory. Though the heavens were 
thmt starred with splendors, it was deeftly, though 
clearly, dark on the ocean. There was a gentle 
breeze that was only suflicient to make the sails 
draw, and the noble frigate walked stately, yet ma- 
jestically onwards. 

Forward on the main-deck the darkness was Cim- 
merian. When lights had been last there, at the 
relieving of the sentinels, the cow had laid herself 
quietly down upon her litter, and seemed to be in 
a profound sleep ; the first hour atler midnight was 
passed, and all was hushed as death, save those 
noises that indicate what else would be absolute si- 
lence more strongly. There was the whispi>ring 
ripple of the sea, the dull creaking of the tiller- 
ropes, and the stealthy step of the sentinels : these 
soonda, and these only, were painfully distinct. 
One bcdl struck, and its solemn echoes seemed to 



creep through the decks as if on some errand of 
death, and the monotonous cry of the look-outs fell 
drearilv on the ear. 

The first lieutenant and the officers of the watch 
had just begun to shake oiT their dreamy and fearful 
impressions, to breathe more freely, and to walk 
the deck with a firmer tread, when, from what was 
supposed to be the haunte<l spot, a low shriek was 
heard, then a bustle, followed by half-stifled cries of 
"The guard! the guard!" 

The officers of the watch jumped down on to the 
main-deck, the midshipmen rushed into the cabin 
to call the captain, and men with and without lights 
rushed forward to the rescue. 

Deep in the darkness of the manger, there glared 
an ap[)arition that mi^ht more than justify the 
alarm. The spot when* the phantom was seen, (we 
pledge ourselves that we aro relating facts,) was 
that part of a frigate which seamen call ** the eyes 
of her," directly under the loremost part of the fore- 
castle, where the cables run through the hawse* 
holfs, and through which the bowsprit trends up- 
wards. The whole place is called the manger. It 
is very often oppropriated to the use of pigs, until 
they take their turn Utr the butcher's knife. This 
was the strange locality that the ghost chose to 
honor with its dreadful i)resence. 

From the united evidenct'S of the many who saw 
this ghastly avatar, it appi'ared only to have thnist 
its huge hoad and a few feet of the foreimrt of its 
body through the hawse-hole, the remainder of its 
vast and voluminous tail hanging out of the ship 
over its bows. The frightful head and the glaring 
sockets of its eves were distinctlv marked in linoa- 
ments of fire. Its jaws were stupendous, and its 
triple row of sharp and long-fanged teeth seemed 
to be gna>hing for something mortal to devour. It 
cast a pale blue halo of light around it, just suffi- 
cient tu show the outhnos of the den it had selected 
in which to make its unwelcome appearance, ^'oi^e 
it made none, though several of the spectators fan- 
cied that tliey heard a gibbering of unearthly sounds ; 
and Mr. Littlejohn swore the next day upon his 
John Hamihon Moore, that it mooed dolefullv like 
a young bullock crossed in love. 

To describe the confusion on the main-deck, 
whilst oflicers, seamen, and marines were gazing on 
this spectre, so like the fiery spirit of the Yankee 
sea-seri)ent, is a task from which I shrink, knowing 
that language cannot do it adeipiatoly. The first 
lieutenant stood in the middle of the group, not 
merely transfixed, but paralysed with fear; men 
were tumbling over each other, shouting, praying, 
swearing. Up from the dark holds, Hke shrouded 
ghosts the watch below, in their shirts, sprang 
from their hammocks ; and for many, one look was 
enough, and the head would vanish inunodiately in 
the dark profound. The shouting for lights, and 
loaded musket^s and pistols was terrible ; and the 
orders to advance were so eagerly reiterated, that 
none had leisure to ol)ey them. 

But the cow herself did not present the least im- 
posing feature in this picture of horror. She form- 
ed, as it were, the barrier between mortality and 
' spirituality — all beyond her was horrible and spec- 
tral ; by her fright she seemed to acknowledge the 
presence of a preternatural being. Iler legs were 
stiff and extended, her tail standing out like that of 
an angered lion, and she kept a continued strain 
upon the halter with which she was tethered to a 
ring-bolt in the ship's side. 



780 



WHO MILKED MT COW ; OR, THE MASINE GHOST. 



By thia tunOf ■everal of the ward-room officers, 
and moflt of the xnidBhipmenf had reached the scene 
of action. Pistols were no longer wanting, and 
loaded ones too. Three shots were fired into the 
maDgcr, with what aim it is impossible to specify, 
at the spectre. They did not seem to annoy his 
ghestship in the least ; without an indication of his 
beginning to grow hungry might be deemed so. As 
the shot whistled past him, he worked his huge and 
fiery jaws most ravenously. 

** Well," said the second lieutenant, *Met us give 
the gentleman another shot, and then come to close 
quarters. Mr.. Mltohell you have a pistol in your 
hand: firel" 

*'In the name of the Holy Trinity T said the 
superstitious first ; ** there l'^ Bang ! and the shot 
took effect deep in the loins of the unfortunate 
cow. 

At this precise moment. Captain the ^norable 
Augustus Fitzroy Fitsalban rushed from his cabin 
forward, attired in a rich flowered silk morning- 
gown^ in which scarlet predominated. He lield a 
pistol cocked in each hand; and, as he broke 
through the crowd, he bellowed- forth lustily, 
*^ Whereas the ghost? let me see the ghost!*' He 
was soon in the van of the astonished gazers ; but, 
disappointed Fitzalbanl he saw no ghost, because, 
aa the man says in the Critic, ** Hwas not in sight." 

Immediately the honorable captain had gained 
his station, the much wronged and persecuted cow, 
galled by her wound, with a mortal effort snapped 
the rope with which she was fastened, and then, 
lowering her homed head nearly level with the 
deck, and flourishing her tail after the manner that 
an Irishman flourishes his shillchih before he oom- 
menoes occipital operations, she rushed upon the 
crowded pbaJanx before her. At this instant, as if 
its supernatural misfiion had been completed, the 
spirit vanished. 

The ideal having decamped, those concerned 
had to save themselves from the well followed up 
assaults of the reaL The captain flew before the 
pursuing horns, d — ning the cow in all the varie- 
ties of condemnation. But she was ■ generous, and 
she attached herself to him with an unwonted, or 
rather an unwanted, fidelity. Lanterns were 
crushed and men overthrown, and laughter now 
arose amidst the shouts of dismay. The seamen 
tried to impede the progress of the Airious animal 
by throwing down before her lasbed-up hammocks, 
and by seizing her behind by the tail : but, woe is 
me I the Honorable the Captain Augustus fitzroy 
Fltialban could not run so fast in his variegated 
and scariet flowered silk dres8ing*gown as a cow in 
the agonies of death ; for he had just reached that 
asylum of safety, his cabin door, when the cow 
took him up very carefully with her horns, and first 
giving him a monitory shake, then with an inclina- 
tion to port, she tossed him right over the ward- 
room sky-light, and deposited him very gingerly in 
the turtle-tub that stood lashed on the larboard 
side of the half-deck. This exertion was her last; 
ibr immediately after falling upon her knees, and 
then gently rolling over, to use an Homeric ex- 
pression, her soul issued fhnn her- wound, and 
■ought the shades below appropriated to the souls 
of cows. 

In the mean time, the captain was sprawling 
•bout, and contending with his turtle for room, and 
he stood a very good chance of being drowned 
even in a tub ; but assistance speedily arriving^ be 



was drawn out, and thus the world was spared i 
second tale of a tub. But there was something io 
the spirit of the aristocratic Fitzalban that neither 
cows, ghosts, nor turtle-haunted water could nb* 
due. Wet as he was, and suffering also from the 
contusions of the cow's horns, he immediately o^ 
dered more light, and proceeded to search for the 
ghost,— prolific parent of all his mishaps. 

Well escorted, he visited the manger, but t)ie 
most scrutinizing search could discover nothing 
extraordinary. The place seemed to have been 
undisturbed, nor once to have departed from iti 
usual solitariness and dirt. There was not even so 
much as a smell of sulphur on the spot where the 
spectre had appeared, nor were there any signs of 
wet, which, supposing the thing seen had been a 
real animal, would have been the case, had it come 
from the sea through one of the hawse-holes. The 
whole affair was involved in the most profonnd 
mystery. The honorable captain, therefore, came 
to the conclusion that nothing whatever had ap- 
peared, and that the whole was the creation of 
cowardice. 

Hot with rage, and agnish with cold, he vetnred 
to his cabin, vowing all manner of impossible ven- 
geance, muttering about court-martials, and sol- 
emnly protesting that Mr. Mitchell, the first lien- 
tenant, should pay him for the caw that he had 80 
wantonly shot. 

Blank were the countenances of many- the next 
morning. The first lieutenant was not^ as usual, 
asked to breakfast. There was distrost and divi- 
sion in his Majesty^s ship Nsnia, and the Hono^ 
able the Captain Augustus Fitzroy Fitzalban had 
several severe contusions on his noble person, t 
bad cold, and no milk for breakfast ; an accnmult- 
tion of evils that one of the aristocracy ought not 
to be obliged to bear. Though Mr. Mitchell did 
not break&st with the captain, Jack Small, alias 
Small Jack, alias Mr. Littlejohn, did. The only at- 
tempt of the captain that morning at conversation 
was as follows. With a voice that croaked like a 
raven's at the point of death, evidence exteme of an 
abominable sore-throat, the captain merely said to 
the reefer, pointing his forefinger downwards, as he 
did the day before, ''Milkr 

Mr. Littlejohn shook his head dolefully, and re- 
pUed, "No, sir." 

" My cow died last night,'* said the afl3icted com- 
mander, with a pathos that would have wrung the 
heart of a stone statue — if it could have heard it. 

**If you please, sir,** said the steward, *^Mr. 
Mitchell sends his compliments, and would be very 
glad to know what you would have done with the 
dead cow." — **My compliments to Mr. Mitchell, 
and h€ may do whatever he likes with it. He shot 
it, and must pay me for it : let him eat it if he 
will." 

The first lieutenant and the captain were, afler 
this, not on speaking terms for three months. 
Several duels had very neariy been fought about 
the ghost; those who had not seen it, branding 
those who had with an impntation only a little 
short of cowardice ; those who had seen it, becon- 
ing for a few weeks very religious, and firmly re- 
solving henceforward to get drunk only in pious 
company. The carcase of the cow was property 
dressed and cut up, but few were found who would 
eat of it ; the majority of the seamen thinking that 
the animal had been bewitched : the capUun, of 
eouvsO) would take none of it, unless Mr. Mitchell 



BOZIANA. 



781 



Id permit him to pAj him for it at bo much per 

nd, w he pertimtcioiuly pretended to conflider 

> be the property of the first lieutenant. Con- 

Aently, the animal was nearly shared between 

nidahipmen^s berth and the mess of which Jo- 

h Grummet, the captain of the waist, was an un- 

ihj member. 

%t day Mloidng the death of the cow, Joseph 

nrnnnt irifl found loitering about the door of the 

mg-gBiitlemen's berth. 

^Am miDc' to-morrow, Joseph?*^ said the cater- 

— ^Ho, drj^ with a most sensible shake of the 

d. 

^Oht ti^kmuMfwhu given up the ghost r—*'^fu; 

wto^ tlmUoT This simple expression seemed 

laniiMBil iiulieved Joe^s overcharged bosom : he 

aed liki ^pdd*in his mouth with evident satisfac- 

i^ .phutad^-wad wai shortly after lost in the 



fet was a ghost story that did not 
TV a TWXMple affair when the key to it was 
ad. 1!1ie^4Bi4tai& of the NsBnia never would be- 
• that anjr -thing uncommon was ever seen at 

Ho wBS^ikvwever, as much in the wrong as 
le libo bdlttTed that they bad seen a ghost. 
I oc wm e n di eould not be forgotten, though it 
led to-be triked of. 

Sro ywii after, tiie ship came to England, and 
I peid oC : Joseph Grummet bagged his notes 
i hie sovereigns with much satisfaction ; but he 
not jump like a fool into the first boat, and rush 
iMre to scatter his hard-earned wages among 
m, and people still worse : he stayed till the last 
a. end anxiously watched fiDr the moment when 

pennant should be hauled down. When he 
' tide fiuriy done, he asked leave to speak to the 
iefaL He. wae ushered hito the cabin, and he 



there saw many of the officers who were taking 
leave of their old commander. 

*^Wei], Grummet," said the skipper, "what 
now ? " 

** Please jour honor, you offered five guineas to 
anybody who would tell you who milked the cow.** 

*'*' And so I will gladly," said the captain, plea- 
santly, '* if the same person will unravel the mys- 
tery of the ghost." And he turned a trium(Aant 
look upon the believers in spirits who stood around 
him. 

" I milked your cow, sir." 

'^Ahl Joseph, Joseph I it was unkindly done. 
But with your hands ?" — *^ We widened a pair of 
Mr. Littlcjohn*s kid-gloves, sir." 

'* I knew that little rascal was at the bottom of 
it! but there is honor in the midshipmen's berth 
still. What is the reason that they thus sought to 
deprive me of my property?" — "You wouldn't 
allow them to take any Mve stock on board that 
cruise, sir." 

"So— «o — ^wild justice, hey? But come to the 
ghost." — " Why, sir, I wanted to have the cow un- 
watchcd for a' quarter of an hour every middle 
watch ; so I took the sharic's head we had caught 
a day or two before, scraped off most of the flesh, 
and whipped it in a bread-bag, — it shone brighter 
in the dark than stinking mackerel :t-so I whips 
him out when I wants him, and wabbles his Jaws 
about. I was safely stowed under the bowsprit 
from your shot ; and when your honor walked in 
on one side of the manger, I walked, with my head 
under my arm, out of the other." 

" Well, Joseph, there are your ^ve guineas : and, 
gentlemen,*' said the Honorable the Captain Au- 
gustus fitzroy Fitzalban, bowing to hii ofl&cen, " I 
wish you joy of your ghost 1 " 



•♦» 



BOXIANA. 



▲KON. 



I K4TI the very name of hox ; 

It fills me full of fears ; 
It minds me of the woes Fve felt, 

Snce I was young in years. 

Tl^ sent me to a Yorkshire school, 

Where I had many knocks ; 
For there mj schoolmates botc'd my cars, 
I couldn't box. 



I pick'd mj &mr; I pfckM the locks, 

And ran away to sea; 
And very iooa I learnt to box 

The eompasi merrily. 

I eeme ashoveM-I ca)Pd a coach, 
And mounted on the box; 

The coeoh upeet against a post. 
And gaTO sedieedftd knocks. 

I soon got wen ; in love I fell. 
And married Martha Cox ; 

To please her will at fiun'd Box Hill, 
I took a country Hbx. 



I had a pretty garden there, 
All border'd round with box ; 

But, ah, alas ! there liv'd next door, 
A certain Captain Knox. 

He took my wife to see the play ; — 

They had a private box : 
I Jealous grew, and from that day, 

I hated Captain Knox. 

I sold my house, — I left my wife ; 

And went to Lawyer Fox, 
Who tempted me to seek redress 

All from a jury box. 

I went to law, whose greedy maw 
Soon emptied ray strong box ; 

I lost my suit, and cash to boot. 
All tfairo' that crafty Fox. 

The name of box I therefore dread, 

I've had so many shocks ; 
They'll never end, — ^for when Fm dead. 

They'll nail me in a box. 



THE LA8T STAGE OOAOTOtAS. 



THE LAST STAGE COACTUAX. 




HE Lut Stage CoKchmitn 1 It falls upon 
the ear of every one but a ebureliolder 
in railways, willi a boding, mplancholy 
Bound, in spite of our natural rever- 
GQcc for Ilie woudun of science, our 
bcarls grow bear; at the thought of 
never agun beliolding the SKeet-smelling nose- 
gay, the unimpeacbatile top-boots, and fair while 
breeches ; onco so proniinenl aa the uniform of 
the fnilemit)-. With all our reepeet for eipedi- 
tious and business-like iraTelling, we experience 
» feeling nearly altin lo disgust, at being marslialled to our plates by a 
beU «nd a fellow with a badge on bis slioulder; Instead of hearing the 
cheery suninious " Xow tben, gcnilenien," and being regaled by a short 
mnd instruGlive eonversalion wilb a ruddy-faced personage in a dustlesa 
oUve-grcen eoat and prismatic belcher bandlicrcbjer. What did wl- want 
iiith smoke! Bad we not the coachman's cigar, if we were desirous of 
observing its shapes and appearances? Wbo iKould be so unreasonable as 
to languiab for steam, when he could inbale it on a cool, autunrnai niom- 



cbapfer, and yet fail in reforming ihe perverted ta*te of the present gen- 
eration; we know that the attempt is n.-<eteBs, and ne give up in sorrowful 
and pbiloBopliic resignation, and proceed uodauuled by the probable iiueers 
of railway directors, lo the recital of— 

A Vision. 

Methought I wnlked forth one autumn evening, lo observe tlic arrival of 
» stage coacb. 1 wandered on, yet nothing of the kind met my eje. t 
tried many an old public road — ihey were now grass-grown and miry, or 
desecrated by the abOTniuable presence of a " station." I wended my way 
towanis a famous roadside inn : it was desolate and silent, or in otber 
■words, "To Let." I looked for "the commercial room:" not a pot of 
beer adorned Ihc mouldering tables, and Dot a pipe lay scatlcred over the 
wild and beautiful seclusions of its once numerous "boiea." It was de- 
serted and useless; the voice of the traveller rung no longer round its 
nails, and tbe merry born of Ihe guard elarlled no more tbe sleepy few, 
wbo once congregated round its hospitable door. The chill fire-place and 
broad, antiquated mantel-piece, presunCed but one bill — tbe starting lime of 
an adjacent railroad ; surmounted by a rcprcaentalion of tbose engines of 
destruction, io dull, frowsy lithogrnpb. 

I turned to the yard. Where was the ostler with his unbraced breeches 
uid his upturned shirt sleeves? Where was Ibe stable boy witb his wisp 
of straw and his sieve of oats? Where were the coquetliEh mares and tbe 
tall blood horses? Where wns the manger and tlie stable door! — All 
gone — alt disappeared; the buildings dilapidated and tottering — of what 
use is a stable to a, stoker? The ostler and the elable boy had passed 



TIIE LAST BTAOK COACHMAK. 



783 



away — what fellowship have either with a boiler ? 
T%e inn yard wom no more ! The very dunghill in 
its farthest comer was choked by dust and old 
bricks; and the cock, the pride of the country 
round, claroored no longer on the ruinod and un- 
dghtly wall. I thought it was posjiible that he had 
satisfied long since the cravings of a railway com- 
outtee ; and I sat down on a ruined water-tub to 
give way to the melancholy reflections called up by 
the sight before me. 

I know not how long I meditated. There was 
no officious waiter to ask mo, ^* What I would please 
to order?" No chambermaid to simper out, *' This 
way, &,"^-not even a stray cat to claim acquaint- 
ance with the calves of my legs, or a hornets hoof 
to tread upon my toe. There was nothing to dis- 
turb my miserable reverie, and I anathematized 
railways without distinction or exception. 

The distant sound of slow and stealthy footsteps 
at last attracted my attention. I looi^ed to the far 
end of the yard. Heavens above ! a stage coach- 
man was pacing its wom and weedy pavement. 

There was no mistaking him — ^he wore the low- 
crowned, broad-brimmed, whitey-brown, well-brush- 
ed hat; the voluminous checked neckcloth; the 
ample-skirted coat ; the striped waistcoat ; the 
white cords ; and lost, not leant, the immortal boots. 
But alas ! the calf that had once filled them out, 
had disappeared ; they clanked heavily on the pave- 
ment, instead of creaking tightly and noisily where- 
ever he went. His waistcoat, evidently once filled 
almost to bursting, hung in loose, uncomfortable 
folds about his emaciated waist; large wrinkles 
marred the former beauty of the fit of his coat ; 
and his face was all lines and furrows, instead of 
smiles and jollity. The spirit of the fraternity had 
passed away from him — he was the stage coachman 
only in dress. 

He walked backwards and forwards for some time 
without turning his head one way or the other, 
except now and then to peer into the deserted 
stable, or to glance mournfully at the whip he held 
in his hand ; at lost, the sound of the arrival of a 
train struck upon his ear I 

He drew himself up to his fulfhcight, slowly and 
solemnly shook his clenched fist in the direction of 
ihe sound, and looked — Oh that look I it spoke an- 
nihilation to the mightiest engine upon the rail, it 
Bcoffed at steam, and flashed furious derision at the 
largest terminus that ever was erected ; it was an 
awfully comprehensive look — the concentrated es- 
sence of the fierce and deadly enmity of all the 
stage coachmen in England to steam conveyance. 

To my utter astonishment, not, it must be owned, 
unmixed with fear, he suddenly turned his eyes to- 
wards my place of shelter, and walked up to me. 

*' That*8 the rail," said he, between his sot teeth. 

*' It is," said I, considerably embarrassed. 

"D n it I" returned the excited stage coach- 
man. 

There was something inexpressibly awful about 
this execration ; and I confess I felt a strong inter- 
nal conviction that the next day's paper would teem 
with horrible railway accidents in every column. 

** I did my utmost to hopposo 'em," said the stage 
coachman, in softened accents. *^I wos the la»t 
that guv' in ; I kep' a losing day after day, and yet 
I worked on ; I was determineil to do my dooty, 
and I drove a coach the last dav with an old hoo- 
man and a carpet bag inside, and three little boys I 
and seven whopping empty portmanteaus outside. I i 



wos determined my last kick to have nome passengers 
to show to the rail, so I took my wife and children 
'cos nobody else wouldn't go, and then we guv' in. 
Hows'ever, the last time as / wos on the road, I 
didn't go and show 'em an empty coach — we wasn't 
full, but we wasn't empty ; we wos game to the last !" 

A grim smile of triumph lit up the features of the 
deposed coachman, as he gave vent to this assertion. 
He took hold of me by the button-hole, and led the 
way into the house. 

** This landlord wos an austcrious sort of a man," 
said he ; " he used to hobserve, that he only wished 
a Railway Committee would dine at his house, he'd 
pison 'em all, and emigrate ; and ho*d ha' done it, 
too !" 

I did not venture to doubt this, so the stage 
coachman continued; 

'*rve smoked my pipe by the hour together in 
that fire-place; I've read 'The Times' advertise- 
ments and Perlice Reports in that box till I fell 
asleep ; I've walked up and down this here room a 
saving all sorts of things about the rail, and a bust- 
ing for happiness. Outside this wery door Tve bin 
a drownded in thank vs from ladies for never lettin' 
nobody step through their band-boxes. The cham- 
bermaids used to smile, and the dogs used to bark, 
wherever I came. — But it's all over now — the poor 
feller as kep' this place takes tickets at a Station, 
and the chambermaids makes scalding hot tea be- 
hind a mahogany counter for the people as has no 
time to drink it in I" 

As the stage coachman uttered these words, a 
contemptuous sneer puckered his sallow cheek. He 
led me back into the. yard; the ruined appearance 
of which looked doubly mournful, under the faint 
rays of moonlight that every here and there stole 
through the dilapidated walls of the stable. An 
owl had taken up his abode, where the chief ostler's 
bedroom had once rejoiced in the grotesque ma- 
jesty of huge portraits of every winner of every 
" Derby," since the first days of Epsom. The bird 
of night flew heavily off at our approach, and my 
companion pointed gloomily up to the fragments of 
mouldy, worm-eaten wood, the last relics of the 
stable loft. 

" He wos a great friend of mine, was that h'ostler," 
said the coachman, "but he's left this railway- 
bothered world — he was finished bv the train." 

» 

At my earnest entreaty to hear further, he con- 
tinued, 

" When this h'old place wos guv' up and ruinated, 
the h'ostler, as 'ud never look a4 the rail before, 
went down to have a sight of it, and as he wos a 
leaning his elbows on the wall, and a wishing as 
how he had the stabling of all the steam h'ingines 
(he'd ha' done 'em justice !) wot should he see, but 
one of his osses as wos thrown out of employ by 
the rail, a walking along jist where the" train was 
coming. Bill jumped down, and as he wos a lead- 
ing of him h*off, up comes the train, and went over 
his leg and cut the 'os in two — ' Tom,' says he to 
me when we picked him up ; ' I'm a going eleven 
mile an hour, to the lust stage as is left for me to 
do. I've always done my dooty with the osses; 
I've bin and done it now — ^bury that ere poor os 
and me out of the noise of the rail.' We got the 
surgeons to him, but he never spoke no more, Poor 
Bill! Poor Bill!" 

This last recollection seemed too much for the 
stage coachman, he wrung my hand, and walked 
abruptly to the farthest corner of the yard. 



T8* 



NBIQHBOB KELLT. 



. I took care not to intetrnpt Um, and watched 
Un oareAilly Irom a diiiancc. 
At firgi, the ono eipreaaion of bia connteoanoe 

ifaa melanchalj ; bat bj degrecH, other thoughia 
aame crondiiiK fram bia miad, and mantled on his 
wo«'J>egone visage. Poor feUow, I could ace that 
he was again in imaginatioii the belOTed of the 
ladiea and ibe adorad of tbe chambermaida : a taint 
nfiection of tha affable, jet m^estio demeaoor, 
required bj his calling, fljtted oocaaioaallj orer 
U* pincbed, attenoalad features; and brighteaed 
tba cold, malaBoholf eaprsMion of his oounte- 

Am I itiU looked, b grew darker and darker, ;et 
tlie tkee of the stage coachman was nerer for an 
iDataat bidden fnwn tue. The same anificial expres- 



In tbe air — noir itaeemed like the diitant trampting 
of horaes ; aud now again, like the rumbling of a 
heaTil; laden coach along Uie public road. A faint, 
•ioklj light, qjread itself over that part of the 
baaTona whenca tbe sound* peocecded; and after 
an interval, a fnllf equipped alage coach appeared 
io the clouds, with a nilwaj director strapped fast 
to each wheel, and a stoker between tbe teeth of 
•ftoh of tlie four horses. 



In place of luggage, fhigmenta of broken a 
carriages, and red carpet bags filled with othei 
memoes of Tallwa; acddeais, occupied the 
Chance passengers appeared to be the onlj ta 
of the outside ;riaces. In tront sat Julias Pans 
Ha. Hannah Moure i and behind, ^r Joaepb i 
and Ure. Brownriggc. Of all the "insjdea,"tc 
I grieve to saj, see nolhiag. 

On the boi, was a httic mso with tazxj bail 
large iron-gra^ wbiskere; clothed in a coat 
gineers' skin, with glovee cf the hide of i« 
police. Be polled op opposite mj friend, and 
ing profoundlj, motioned bin) to tbe box seat. 

A gleam of unntterable joj irradiated the i 
coBcbnian's countenance, as he stepped lightly 
his place, seiied the reins, and iritb oae fci 
" good nigbl," addressed toan imaginarj innJ 
people, etarled the horses. 

Ott the; drove I my friend in the plenhndo < 
satiBfaotioD cracking tbe whip everj instant, * 
drove the phantom coach into the air. And at 
the shrieks of the rwlwaf directors at tbe w 
the gleans otjamtt Wail, tbe bugle of tbe gi 
and the tremendous cursing of die invieible 
sides," taat and furioudj disappeared fnm 




SEIQHBOK NELLT. 



Fk in love with V^gbbor KeWj, 

Though I know she's only ten ; 
While I am elght-and-forty, 

And the num-tedcit of men. 
Tve a wife that weighs me double, 

rve three daughters all wiih beam ; 
r*e a loD wfth noble whiskers, 

Who at me turna up his nose. 

Though a Sqnaretoei aod a BafTer, 

Tot I've snoshine in mj heart ; 
Still, I'm fond of cakes and marbles- 

Can appreciate a tart, 
1 ean lore tnj NetghbOT Nelly 

Just as though I were a boy. 
And would hand ber oaket and applet 

From my depths of corduroy. 

She is tall, and growing taUer ; 

She is vigorow of limb ; 
(You thonid see her pl^ at cricket 

With her little brother Jim I) 
EQie has eyes as blue as damsons ; 

She has pounds of auburn curls : 
fibe regrets tbe game of leap-frog 

Is prohibited to girla t 



I adore my Neighbor Nelly ; 



III 






And I let her nuree the baby. 
Her delightful ways to see. 

Such a darling bud of woman I 
Tet remote from any tecna — 

I have learnt from Neighbor Nelly 
What the girl's doll mstioct means 

0, to se« her with the baby, 

(He adoree her more than I,) 
How she choruses his crowing. 

How she hushes every cry? 
How tbe loves to pit his dimples, 

With her light forefinger deep ; 
How she boasts, as one in triumph. 

When she gets him off to sleep I 

We must part, my Neighbor NeUy, 

For the summers quickly flee, 
And the middle-aged admirer, 

Uuat, too soon, supplanted be. 
Tet, as jealous as a mother, 

A suspioioua, canker'd churl— 
I look vainly tor the setting 

To be worthy such a pearl t 



THE NEW TALE OF A TUB. 



786 



THE NEW TALE OF A TUB. 



BT F. W. N. BATLET. 



Tbb Orltnt day wtm fresh aad fair, 
A brMie miag woti in the ambient air, 
Men almost wondered to find it there 

Blowing so near Bengal, 
Where waters bahUe as boiled in a pot. 
And the gold of the sun spreads melting hot, 
And there's hardly a breath of wiad to be got 

. At any price at all I 
Unless, indeed, when the great Simoom 
Geta np from its bed with the voice of doom ; 

And deserts no rains e'er drench 
Rise np and roar with a dreadful gost, 
FSUars of sand and clouds of dust 
Rudiing on drifted, and rapid to buret. 
And filung all India's throat with thirst 

That its Ganges couldn't quench I 



No great Shnoom rose np to-day, 

But only a gentle breeze, 
And that of such silent and Yoiceless play 
That a lady's bustle 
Had made more rustle 

Than ii did among the trees ! 
Iwas not like the breath of a British vale, 
Where each Green acre is blessed with a Gale 

Whenever the natives please ; 
But it was of that soft inviting sort. 
That it tempted to revel in pic-nic sport 

A couple of Bengalese I 

Two Bengalese, 

Resolved to seize 
The balmy chance of that cool-wing'd weather. 
To revel in Bengal ease together. 

One was tall, the other was stout, 
They were natives both of the glorious East^ 
And both so fond of a rural feast, 
That off they roam'd to a country plain 

Where the breeze roved free about, 
That during its visits brief, at least, 
If it never were able to blow again, 

It might blow upon their blow-out I 



The country phdn gave a view as small 

As ever man dapped his eyes on, 
^TIThere the sense of sight did easily pall, 
For it kept on seeing nothing at ail, 

As far as the far horizon ! 
Nothing at all I^-Oh 1 what do I say, 
Something certainly stood in the way, 
(Though It had neither cloth nor tray, 

With its "tiffin" I wouldn't quarrel,) 
It was a sort of hermaphrodite thing, 
( — ^It might have been filled with sugar or ling 
But is very unfit for a Muse to sing, — ) 

Betwixt a tub and a barrell 



It stood in the midst of that Indian plain. 
Burning with sunshine — pining for rain, 
— ^A parenthesis baUnoed 'twlxt pleasure and 
pain,— 



And as stiff as if it were starching : 
When up to it, over the brown and green 
Of that Indian soil, were suddenly seen 

Two gentlemen anxiously marching I 
Those two gentlemen were, if you please. 
The aforesaid couple of Bengalese I 

And the Tub or Barrel that stood beyond-* 
For short we will call it Tubl^ 
Contained with pride, 
In its jolly inside, 

The prize of which they were dotingly fond, 
The aforesaid gentlemen's grub t 



" Leave us alone — come man or come beast," 
Said the eldest, " We'll soon have a shy at the 
feast!" 



They are now at their pic-nic with might and with 

main. 
But what do we pee in the front of the plain ? 

A jungle, a thicket of bush, weed, and grass, 

And in it reposing— eh — no I not an ass — 

Not an ass, not an ass, that could not come 
to pass; 
No donkey, no donkey, no donkey at all. 
But superb in his slumber, a Royal Bengal I 

Tho' Royal, he wasn't a king ! 

No such thing ! 
He didn't rule liuids from the Thames to the 
Niger, 

But he did hold a reign 

O'er that jungle and plain. 
And, besides, was a very magnificent Tiger 1 



There he lay, in his skin so gay. 
His passions at rest, and his appetites curbed ; 
A Minister Prime, 
In his proudest time, 
Asleep, was never less undisturbed ; 

For who would come to shake him ? 
Oh ! it's certain sure, in his dream demure, 
That none would dare to wake him. 
Only the Royal snore may creep 
Over the dreams of a Tiger's sleep I 



The Bengalese, in cool apparel, 
Meanwhile have reached their pic-nic barrel ; 
In other words, they have tossed the grub 
Out of their great provision Tub, 

And standing it up for shelter, 
Sit guzzling underneath its shade, 
With a glorious dinner ready-made, 

Which they're eating helter-skelter ! 
Ham and chicken, and bread and cheese. 

They make a pass to spread on the grass. 
They sit at ease, with their plates on their knees. 
And* now their hungry jaws they appease, 

And now they turn to the glass ; 
For Hodgson's ale 
Is genuine pale, 



.786 



THE NEW TALE OF A TUB. 



And the bright champagne 
Flows not in vain, 
The most convivial souls to please 
Of these very thirsty Bengalese ! 



Ha ! one of the two has relinquished his fork, 
And wakes up the Tiger by drawing a cork ! 



Blurting and spirting ! 

List! list I 

Perhaps the Tiger thinks he is hissM ! 
EffcrTcscing and whizzed and phizzed ! 
Perhaps his Majesty thinks he is quizzed I 

Or haply deems, 

As he s roused from his dreams, 
That his visions have come to a thirsty stop, 
And resolves to moisten his throat with a drop ! 



At all events, with body and soul. 
He gives in his jungle a stretch and a roll, 
Then regally rises to go for a stroll, 
With a temperate mind, 
For a beast of his kind. 
And a tail uncommonly long behind ! 
He knows of no water. 
By field or by flood ; 
He does not seek slaughter. 
He does not scent blood ; 
No I the utmost scope 
Of his limited hope, 
Is, that these 
Bengalese, 
When they find he arrives. 
May not rise from their pic-nlc and run for their 
lives, 
But simply bow on that beautiful plain. 
And ofier Sir Tiger a glass of champagne ! 
** From my jungle it true is 

They Voke me, I think, 
So the least they can do is 
To give me some drink.** 



Gently Tiger crouches along. 

Humming a kind of animal song, 
A sweet subdued familiar lay 
As ever was warbled by beast of prey ; 

And all so soilly, tunefully done, 
That it made no more sound 
Than his shade on the ground : 

So the Bengalese heard it, never a one ! 



Gently Tiger steals along, 

** Mild as a moon-beam,^ meek as a lamb ; 
What so suddenly changes his song 
From a tune to a growl ? 
" * Och, by my eowl,' 
Nothing on earth but the smell of the ham !*' 
He quickens his pace. 

The '' illigant baste, 
And he^s running a race 

With himselif for a taste. 
And he*s taken to roaring and given up hum- 
ming, 
Just to let the two Bengalese know he is com- 
ing I 



What terrors seize 
The Bengalese I 

As the roar of the tiger reaches t 

Their hair is standing on end wit! 

" Short-and-stout,'* with his hair all gi 

Has a rattling note, in his jolly old th 

If choking his laugh with a truss of h 

He couldn't more surely have stifled tl 

While '' Tall-and-thin," with hU hair aU ca 

Looks thrice as red, with fright, as h; 

And his face bounds plump, at a single 

Into horror, and out of hilarity I 

All they can hear, in their terrible fei 
Behind and before, is the Tiger's roai 
Again and again— over the plain. 
Clearer and clearer — nearer and nean 
Into the tub, now, its way it has found. 
Where its echoes keep rolling round and i 
Till out of the bung-hole they bursting coi 
Like a regiment of thunders escaped i 
drum! 



If an earthquake had shattered a thousani 
The terrified Bengalese couldn't — ^i' fegs— 
Have leapt more rapidly on to their legs. 
He's at 'em, he's on 'em, the jungle gi 
When a man's life by peril is prest. 
His wits will sometimes be at their b< 
So the presence of Tiger, I find, 
Inspires our heroes with presence of mind 
There's no time to be lost, 
Down the glasses are tost ; 
The Bengalese have abandon'd their grub. 
And they're dodging their gentleman rou 

Tub! 
Active and earnest, they nowhere lodge. 
And he can't get at them because of their ' 
*'Short-and-8tout" and "Tall-and-thiu" 
Never before such a scrape were in ; 
Nor ever yet used — can you well have a d 

it?— 
So uncommonly artful a dodge to get out 

Tiger keeps prowling, 
Howling and growling ; 

He feels himself that their dc 
clever ; 
But the quick fresh blood of the Bengales 
Nicer and nicer he snuffs on the breeze ! 
The more they practise their dodge recita 
The more he longs to dine on their vitals I 
His passion is up ! his hunger is keen ! 
His jaws are ready ! his teeth are clean ! 

And sharpen'd their limbs to sevi 
The fire is flashing in light from his eyes I 
In his own peculiar manner he cries — 
The while they shine— 
^* If I mean to dine, 
I had better begin,'* 
And then, with a grin. 
And a voice the loudest that ever was heai 
Ho roars, ** Never trust to a Tiger's word. 
If this dodge shall last much long 
No, no, no, no, — it shall be no gc 
There's a way of disturbing this Tub's rep( 
So down on your knees, 
You Bengalese, 

And prepare to be eaten up^ i 
please^ — 



THE NEW TALE OF J 




The gentlemoii, looking for do i<i<;h thing, 
Higbt have fallen ■ prc,v lo the Tiger's tling. 

But a ceitun inte^erence, 
Which burnts from their most intelligent Tub, 
Mij ep»ble them jet to return to their grub, 

On the Bolf-same jUtin a ytar hence ! 
The Tub, tlio' emptj of roll and ration, 
!■ full of a certun preserratian — 

Of which, — tbou);h il doea not foliair 
In CTcrir case of argumentation, — 

It it full because it la hollow ! 
For, not having a top, and no inside things. 
It turns top-hesTv when Tiger Bpringsl 
Jjid, imbing a kind of a balancing ]isuse, 
Keeps holiting the animal up by his claws, 



■r that SI 



o frot it 



While " Rhort-and-stout," in a state of doubt, 

Eeept on hia bellj a aharp look-out; 

And " Tall-and-thin," with an impudent grin, 

Eiulta In hia waj. 

As much as to saj, 
"I only wish jou maj get itt 
But much u I may respect jour agility, 
I don't see at present the great probability !" 

The Tiger has leapt up, heart and souL 
It's clear he means to go the whole 
Bog, in his hungry efforts to eeiie 
The two dcflanccful Bengalese I 

ButlheTubl the Tubl 

Ay, there's tbe rubl 

At pii^nt he's balanced atop of tbe Tub, 

Bit fore legs irk^de, 

And (he rest of his bide, 
Kot weighing so much as his bead and his legs, 

And baring no hand in 

A pure understandin' 
Of the Just equilibrium of casks and of kegs, 

Not bred up in attics. 

Nor taught mathematics, 
To work out the problems of Euclid with pegs.' 



He hns plunged with the impetus wild of a lover. 
And the tub has loomed large, balanced, paused, 
and turned orerl 

Tbe Tiger at first had a hobbj-horse-ride. 
But now he is decently quartered inside ; 
And the question is neit, long as fortune may 

frown on bim. 
How the two Bengalese are to keep the tub down 

'Bout this there's no blunder, 
Tbe Tiger « under 

The Tub I 
Uy verse need not run 

To the length of a sonnet. 
To tell how Ihc Bengalese 

Both jumpeil upon it, 
While the beautiful barret 

Keeps acting as bonnet 
To the Tiger inside. 
Who no more In his pride 



Around \u interior his sides deigns to rub 
With a fearful liub-luib. 
And longs for his freedom again ! 

The two Bengaleiie, 

Kot at all at their case. 

Hear him roar, 

And deplore 

Their prospects as sore. 
Forgetting both jHc-nic and flask : 

Each wondering, dumb. 

What of both will become. 
Helps the other to press on the cask ; 

Reeign'd to their fate. 

But increasing their weight, 
By Bption of muscle and sinew. 

In order that forcibly you, Mr. Tub, 
Whom (heir niggers this morning 
Roird here with their grub. 

Hay still beep tbe Tiger within youl 



THE KSW TALE OF* A TtJB. 



On the top of the Tab, 
In the warmeat of shirts. 

The ihin man Manda I 
While the fat bj hia aklrta 

Holda — Biiiiouslj puffing and blowing; 
And the thin peen over the top of the mm, 

" b there any hope for ua ?" 
Aa much aa to atk, 

With a countenance cunning and knowing ; 
And just as be mournfully 'gina to bewail, 

Id & grief-song that ought to be iiMjr whole, 
He twigs the long end of the old Tiger's tail 

Aa it twists itself out of the bung-hole I 
Then sharp on the watch, 
He girea it a Mt«h, 



WHh the Tiger's tall clenched fast In his flat. 
And hia own coat-tail grasped fast to aarist. 
Stands " Tall-and-thin," with " Bhort-and-ttoir 
Both on (he top of the Tub to icout. 
Tiger within, and thej without, 

And both in a pretty pickle I 
The Tiger begins by giving ■ bound ; 
The Tub's half-Curn'd, but the men are found 
To hKVe »erj carefully jumf'cl to the grouDd- 

At trifles thej muiit not stickle 1 
It's no use quaking and turning pale, 
Pluck and patience must now prevail, 
They must keep a hold on the Tiger's tail. 

And neither one be Sokle I 




And shonta to the Tiger, 

" You're now got your match ; 

Too may rush and may not, may wriggle and roi 

But I'm blest if 111 let your tail go any more I 

it's as safe as a young roasted [og in a larder, 

" uld hold on by 



And no t 



There they muM puB If they pull for wceka, 
StrainiogthelritomachsaDdburslingtheir cIim 
While Tiger alternately roars and squcaka, 

Trying to break away from 'em ; 
They must keep the Tub turned over his back 




r^^^'^i^?^^-;^^^ 



L DAT OP mSTBESfl. 



**•! j«1 Omij uiut \uM Un tight, 
vroa^gfaltDlinandDgl from mom UU night I 
Hostn't atop to «at I moalD't itop to ire«p 1 
If aMn't Mop to driDk I muato'i slop to sleep I 
Aoeiyl noUught nonMl no grub t 
Til] the; nuye the Tiger under ibe Tubt 
Il]l the uiliul dlea, 

To hia own iurpri»e. 

With two BengiUew, in > dewilj qn«rrc]. 
And his tail thrust through the b<je of s burel! 

Oh, dear t ob, dear t It's rerj desr 

The J can't lire so — bnt they darim't Itti/e/ 

Fate for a jiriijiag world to'wul, 

Starring behind a Tiger't tail 1 

If iDTeadon be Seccssity'B Son, 

Kow let him tell them whac'i to be done. 

What's to be done ! h& I I see a grin 

Of joy on the face of " TBU-and-lhiD." 

Some new device he has hit in * trice. 

The which he is telling oil about 

To the gratified gentlGman "Bbort-and-stout." 



What's to be done ! what preeiona fiin, 
Hartn't thej found out what's to be done I 
Seet seel what glorious gleet 
Note I mark I what a capital lark. 
Tiger and Tub, and bunghole and afl 
Baffled b; what is about to bebll ; 

beautiful! 01 



Excellent I marvel) ou 



/(«'f i 



itgol 



3JTi»t, BtopI I'm ready to drop I 
'Hold! staTi I'm faintJDg away ! 
LauRhter I'm certain '11 kill me to-day ; 
And •' Short-and-Btout " is bursting his akin, 
And almoet in fits is " Tall-and-tbin," 
And Tiger is free, yet they do not quail, 

Tbo' temper has all gone wrong with him ; 
I ihos'cB Tim . iriin« 1, ni, T(0«r'b Tail, 



Kol they'vt 



! TCB . 



It ofjoint. 



He's a freehold for life, with a tail oi 
And has made his la«t CLIMAX 

A TRUE KNOTIT POIKT. 




A DAT OF DISTRESS 



't mu a riarimu June morning ; and I got up 
^.' ud hrigfal, as the Americans say, to breakfast 
" |lw pretty aonimer'room overlooking the garden, 
*'u^ boilt partly for my acoommodalion and 
Pflly for that of my geraniums, who make it their 
*>>iter residence, I* as regularly called the green- 
tMae aa if I aiid ny several properties — sods, 



limied and Bpadona apartment^ no otherwayg t( 
fijlbtgiiiabed tivta common drawing-rooms toan 
liy hemg nearly fronted with glan, about whieb 



grficefiil and 
varied framework, not unlike the fealoong of flow- 
en and foliage which one sees round some of tha 
scarce and high-prized tradesmen's oarde, and 
ridotto tickets of Hogarth and BartoloEii. Large 
glass folding-doors open into the little garden, al- 
most surrounded by old buildings of the most pio- 
turesque form — the buildings thcmselTcs partly 
hidden by clustering viaea, and my superb bay- 
tree, its shining leaves glittering in the sun on one 
side, whilst a tall pear-tree, garlanded to the very 
top wllb to English honeysuckle In full flower, breaks 



790 



A DAT OF DISTRESS. 



the horizontal line of the low cottage-roof on the 
other ; the very pear-tree being, in its own turn, 
half concealed by a splendid pyramid of geraniums 
erected under its shade. Such geraniums ! It does 
not become us poor mortals to be vain — but really, ; 
my geraniums ! There is certainly nothing but the 
garden into which Aladdin found his way, and 
where the fruit was composed of gems, that can ; 
compare with them. This pyramid is undoubtedly 
the great object from the green-house ; but the 
common flowerbeds which surround it, filled with 
roses of all sorts, and lilies of all colors, and pinks 
of all patterns, and campanulas of all shapes, to say 
nothing of the innumerable tribes of annuals, of all 
the outlandish names that ever were invented, are 
not to be despised even beside the gorgeous ex- 
otics, which, arrrangod with the nicest attention to 
color and form, so as to combine the mingled 
charms of harmony and contrast, seem to look 
down proudly on their humble compeers. 

No pleasanter place for a summer-breakfast — al- 
ways a pretty thing, with its cherries, and straw- 
berries, and its affluence of nosegays and poi^ics — 
no plcatianter place for a summer breakfast-table 
than my green-house! And no pleasanter com- 
panion, with whom to enjoy it, than the fair friend, 
as bright as a rose-bud, and as gay as a lark — the 
saucy, merry, charming Kate, who was waiting to 
partake our country fare. The birds were singing 
in the branches ; bees, and butterflies, and myriads 
of gay, happy insects were flitting about in the 
flower-beds ; the haymakers were crowding to their 
light and lively labor in a neighboring meadow ; 
whilst the pleasant smell of the newly-mown grass 
blended with that of a bean-field in flill blossom 
still nearer, and with the thousand odors of the 
garden — so that sight, and sound, and smell, were 
a rare compound of all that is delightful to the 
sense and the feeling. 

Nor were higher pleasures wanting. My pretty 
friend, with all her vivacity, had a keen relish of 
what is finest in literature and in poetry. An old 
folio edition of that volume of Dryden called his 
" Fables," which contains the glorious rifacimenti 
of parts of Chaucer, and the best of his original 
poems, happened to be on the table ; the fine de- 
scription of Spring in the opening of the Flower 
and the Leaf, led to the picture of Eden in the 
Paradise Lost, and that again to Comus, and Comus 
to Fletcher's Faithful Shepherdess, and Fletcher's 
Faithful Shepherdess to Shakspere, and As You 
Like It. The bees and the butterflies, culling for 
pleasure or for thrift the sweets of my geraniums, 
were but types of Kate Leslie and myself roving 
amidst the poets. This does not sound much like 
a day of distress ; but the evil is to come. 

A gentle sorrow did arrive, all too soon, in the 
shape of Kate Leslie's pony-phaeton, which whisk- 
ed off that charming person as fast as her two long- 
tailed Arabians could put their feet to the ground. 
This evil had, however, substantial consolation in 
the promise of another visit very soon ; and I re- 
sumed, in peace and quietness, the usual round of 
idle occupation which forms the morning employ- 
ment of a country gentlewoman of small fortune : 
ordered dinner — ^minced- veal, cold ham, a currant- 
pudding, and a salad — ^if any body happens to be 
curious on the score of mj housekeeping ; renewed 
my bean-pots ; watered such of my plants as want- 
ed most ; mended my gloves ; patted Daah ; look- 
ed at the Times; and was just sitting down to 



work, or to pretend to work, when I was mosC 
pleasantly interrupted by the arrival of some morn- 
ing visitors — friends from a distance — for whom, 
after a hearty welcome and some cordial chat, 1 
ordered luncheon, with which order my miseries 
began. 

'* The keys, if you please, ma^am, for the whie 
and the Kennet ale," said Anne, my female facto- 
tum, who rules, as regent, not only the cook and 
the under-maid and the boy, but the whole family, 
myself included, and is an actual hou8ekeei>er ia 
every respect, except that of keeping the keys. 
" The keys, ma'am, if you please," said Anne ; and 
then I found that my keys were not in my right- 
hand pocket, where they ought to have been, nor 
in my left-hand pocket, where they might have 
been, nor in either of my apron-pockets, nor in my 
work-basket, nor in my reticule — in short, thai my 
kevs were lost ! 

Now these keys were only two in number, and 
small enough in dimensions; but then the one 
opened that important part of me, my writing- 
desk ; and the other contained i« ithin itself the 
specific power over every lock in the house, being 
no other than the key of the key-drawer ; and no 
chance of picking them — for alas ! al^ ! the locb 
were Bramalfs ! So, after a few exclamations, such 
as. What can have become of my keys ? Has anj 
one seen mv kevs? Soraebodv must have mn 
away with my keys! — I recollected that however 
consolatory to myself such lamentations might be, 
they would, by no means, tend to quench the thirst 
of my guests. I applied myself vigorously to re- 
medy the evil all I could by sending to my nearest 
neighbors (for time were pressing, and our hone 
and his master out for the day) to supply, as 
well as might be, my deficiency. Accordingly! 
sent to the public-house for their best beer, wliich, 
not being Kennet ale, would not go down ; and to 
the good-humored wives of the shoemaker and the 
baker for their best wine. Fancy to yourselves a 
decanter of damson-wine arriving from one quar- 
ter, and a jug of parsnip-wine, fresh from the wood, 
tapped on purpose, from the other ! And this for 
drinkers oi Burgundy and Champagne ! Luckily 
the water was good, and my visitors were good- 
natured, and comforted me in my affliction, and 
made a jest of the matter. Benlly they are a nice 
family, the St. Johns, especially the two young 
men, to whom I have, they say, taught the taste of 
spring- water. 

This trouble passed over lightly enough. But 
scarcely were they gone before the tax-gatherer 
came for money — locked up in my desk ! What 
will the collector say? — And the justice's clerk for 
warrants, left under my care by the chairman of 
the bench, and Hbo safely lodged in the same safe 
repository. What will their worships say to this 
delinquency ? It will be fortunate if they do not 
issue a warrant against me in my own person! 
My very purse was left by accident in that tmlncky 
writing-desk; and when our kind neighbors, the 
Wrights, sent a melon, and I was forced to borrow 
a shilling to give the messenger, I could bear my 
loss no longer, and determined to institute a strict 
search on the instant. 

But before the search could begin, In caine the 
pretty little roly-poly Sydneys and If urrays^ brsts 
from seven downwards, with their whole train of 
nurses, and nursery-maids, and nursery-ffOTemessea, 
by invitation, to eat strawberriet ; and the straw- 



A DAT or DIBTRBBB. 



■xtriM vcr« locked np In ■ cupboard, the kej of 
*llich «u in the unopeiuhle drawer I And good 
bniier Brookea, he too called, sent \ty hia honor 
fcra botde of Hollanda — lh« right HchicdaDi ; and 
Uh Schiedam ni [n (he cellar ; and the key of the 
oUar was Id tbe Braniah- lucked draver I And the 
nmhy fiirmer, who behaved channinglj for a man 
tfeprired of bii fpn, vaa fain to be content nilh ei- 
taset, like a Toter al^er an cli'ction : and the poor 
etdldrcn were compelled to put up wi[h promiscFi, 
lie a Toter before one ; to be Bure, thej had a fi'w 
pJDka and roies lo awcelen tlii'ir diHiippuinlmcnt ; 
but the atravbetriea were aa uncomealablu aa the 
Schiedam. 

At last, thp; were gone; and [hen be^an the 
March in good eameat. Every drawer, tmt locked, 
•fery room that could be entered, eviTj boi Ihat 
Mold be opened, waa ranracked over and over 
again for (bene intolerable keta. 

All my good! and chattels were flung together in 
beipt, and then picked over (a proocia whidi would 
laake even new things aeem disjainted and Hliabbr), 
tad lh« quamilies of trumpery theriby distlow'd, 
t^Mcially in the shape of thiniblcR, needle-cawB, pin- 
nuhiona, and Kisfora, from the diHerent work- 
buketa, worli-boieP, and work-bage (your idle pvr- 
loa always iboundH in working nmtcrials), was as- 
lounding. I think there vers seventeen pincushions 
of different pattums — begin nine with an old boot and 
CDding with a new guitar. But what wu (hero 
lot? It seemed to mc that tliere were pocketalilc 
commodities enough to furnish a aocond-hnnd ba- 
isu-I Every thing wm diere, except my keys. 

For four hours did I and mv luckless maidens 
perambulate (ho house, wliilst .fohn, the boy, eia- 
■Jned the garden ; until we were all bo (ired (liat 
■e were forced to sit down from mere weariness, 
bving always the Rrst night of one of mj own 
tragedies, when, though 1 pique myself on lieing 
tomposed, 1 can never manage lo nit still ; except 
on such an orcasion, I do not think I ever wulkcd 
10 much at one lime in mv life. At hkvt, I Hung 
njseif on a sob in the giceu-hoiuc, and began to 



m 

revolve tbe posdhility of their being itfll In the 
place where I had first missed them. 

Ajingle in my apron-pocket afforded some hope, 
but it turned out to be only the cUnkiiig of a pair 

of gardcn-^ciflSnrs againut his old compunion, a sU- 
Tcr pencil-case — and [hat prospect faded away. A 
slight o]XMi[ng of Dryden's hcsvily-bound volume 
gave another gliuimcr of aunshinc, but it proved (o 
be occaiuocied by a sprig of myrtle in Palamon and 
Anrile — Kate Leslie's elegant mark. 

This circumstance recalled the recollection of my 
pretty friend. Could she have been (he culprit T 
And I began to ponder over all the instances of nn- 
conscious kev-^ieallng that 1 had heard of amongst 
my ai'<|UBiolancc. How my old friend, Aunt Ubj~ 
tha, had been so well known for that propensity u 
to be regularly sought ufler whcoever keys were 
missing ; and my young friend, Edward Harley, 
from the habit of twisting something round lul 
fingers during bis elo^jiient talk (people used to 
provide auutlier clorgucnt talker, Madame de StaBi, 
with a Killow-twLg for the purpose), had onoe 
caught up and I'urricd away a key, also a llram^, 
belonging to a lawyer's bureau, tliervby, as the law- 
yer aflinned, causing the loss of divers lawsuits to 
hini!iclfand his clii'Qts. N'cilhcr Aunt Uuriha nor 
Eilward hud been near the place ; but Kale Leslie 
might be equally subject to absent fits, and might, 
in a paroiyiun, havu abstracted my keys; at all 
CTen(!i it was worth trying. Bo 1 wrote her a &Dt« 
lo go by post in the evening {for Kale, I grieve to 
say, Uvcs above twenty mites off), and determined 
10 await her reply, and think no more of my cala- 
mity. 

A wise rcEoluiion 1 but, like manv othi-r wise re- 
solves, ea.-<U'r nmde than kept. Kven if I could 
have forgotten uiy loss, my own household would 
not have let me. 

The cook, with professional callousncps, came to 
demand Bugnr for the currant-pudding — ^and the 
sugar was in the Bliirc-room — and the siore-room 
was locked ; and searccly had I reiovered from 
this shock, before Anne came to inform me that 




793 



THE PEB8IAN8 IN LONDON. 



there was no oil in the cruet, and that the flask 
was in the cellar, snugly reposing, I suppose, by 
the side of the Schiedam, so that if for weariness I 
could have eaten, there was no dinner to cat — ^for 
without the salad who would take the meat ? How- 
ever, I being alone, this signified little ; much less 
than a circumstance of which I was reminded by 
my note to Kate Leslie, namely, that in my desk 
were two important letters, one triple, and franked 
for that very night ; as well as a corrected proof- 
sheet, for which the press was waiting ; and that 
all these despatches were to be sent off by post that 
evening. 

Roused by this extremity, I carried my troubles 
and my writing-desk to my good friend the black- 
smith — a civil, intelligent man, who sympathized 
with my distress, sighed, shook his bead, and uttered 
the word Bramah ! — and I thought my perplexity was 
nearly at its height, when, as I was wending slow- 
ly homeward, my sorrows were brought to a climax 
by my being overtaken by one of the friends whom 
I admire and honor most in the world — a person 
whom all the world admires — who told me, in her 
prettiest way, that she was glad to sec me so near 
my own gate, for that she was coming to drink tea 
with me. 

Here was a calamity! The Lady Mary H., a 
professed tea-drinker — a green-tca-drinker, one (it 
was a point of sympathy between us) who took 
nothing but tea and water, and, therefore, required 
that gentle and lady-like stimulant in full perfec- 
tion. Lady Mary come to drink tea with me ; and 
I with nothing better to offer her than tea from 
the shop— the village-shop— bohea, or souchong, 
or whatever they might call the vile mixture. Tea 



from the shop for Lady Mary ! Ill luck could go 
no further : it was the very extremity of small d^ 
tress. 

Her ladyship is, however, as kind as she is charm- 
ing, and bore our mutual misfortune with great 
fortitude ; admired my garden, praised my gera* 
niums, and tried to make me forget my cidamity. 
Her kindness was thrown away. I could not even 
laugh at myself, or find beauty in my flowers, or 
be pleased with her for flattering them. I tried, 
however, to do the honors by my plants ; and, in 
placing a large night-scented stock, which was just 
beginning to emit its odor, upon the table, I struck 
against the edge, and found something hard under 
my belt. 

*'My keys! my keys!" cried I, untying the rib- 
bon, as I heard a most pleasant jingle on the floor; 
and the lost keys, sure enough, they were ; deposit- 
ed there, of course, by my own hand ; uiifelt, un* 
seen, and unsuspected, during our long and weary 
search. Since the adventure of my dear friend, 
Mrs. S., who hunted a whole morning for her spec- 
tacles whilst they were comfortably perched upon 
her nose, I have met with nothing so silly and eo 
perplexing. 

But my troubles were over^ — my affliction was at 
an end. 

The strawberries were sent to the dear little girb; 
and the Schiedam to the good farmer ; and the 
warrants to the clerk. The tax-gatherer called for 
bis money ; letters and proofs went to the post, 
and never in my life did I enjoy a cup of Twining'* 
green tea so much as the one which Lady Mary and 
I took together afler my day of distress. 



•♦• 



THE PERSIANS IN LONDON. 

FROM "the ADTKMTURES OF HAJJI BABA." BT JAMES MORIER. 



We had been so much taken up by our various 
visitings, that we scarcely had had time to reflect 
that we were Mussulmans, and that we were living 
among infidels. Such had been the dissipation in 
which we passed our days, that the duties of pray- 
ing and washing at our appointed times were daily 
becooiing lax, to the horror of Mohamed Beg, who 
being a strict observer of our faith, did not cease 
upbraiding us for our neglect, and strongly upheld 
the necessity of keeping ourselves pure from the 
contagious example of those around us, who, in 
fact, appeared to live in the world without any re- 
ligion at all. He had been anxious to settle the 
true direction of the kebleh^* which he had never 
yet done in England to his satisfaction. His kebleh 
nemah, or compass, had unfortunately been broken ; 
and he was doubtful whether any compass we might 

Srocure from the deriders of our faith would set us 
1 the right way ; and even whether it might not 
purposely mislead us, by pointing to some impure 
spot instead of the sacred shrine of our holy Pro- 
phet. Then, to his utter dbmay, he had not seen 
the sun once since our arrival ; and he was seriously 
apprehensive that the accounts which, in Persia, 
were currently believed concerning Frangistan were 
about being realized, and that EngUind, in fiact, 
had no sun. He therefore began to give up all 

* Th9 point to which Mahomedans tarn in prayer— Mecca. 



hope of settling his kebleh, until one morning, with 
joy painted in his countenance, he rushed into the 
presence of the ambassador, followed by many of 
the servants, exclaiming, '•'•Mujdehl good news! 
the sun is come ! the sun is here !" and, in fact, 
upon looking up, amidst a yellow atmosphere, com- 
posed of smoke and vapor, there we saw it sure 
enough. But many of us were inclined to doubt 
whether this could be the glorious luminary that 
we had in Persia, for there nobody had an eye 
strong enough to brave its brilliancy; whereas, 
here we gazed upon it at our ease, quite as well afl 
if it were a moon. However, having satisfied our- 
selves that it was, in fact, the sun, we were all rery 
happy ; and seeing that this auspicious sight took 
place upon a white day,* the fifteenth of the month, 
we exclaimed, ^^Mobarekl good fortune 1** to the 
ambassador ; while Mohamed Beg became convinc- 
ed that he had acquired the true direction of the 
land of our faith. 

But this joy of ours at seeing the son was tke 
cause of confirming many of the Enelidi in their 
ignorance concerning our religion. We were taken 
for worshippers of fire, and they concluded that we 

* Bnperititions people in Persia make a distiiietkHi ba> 
tween lucky and nnlacky daja, which tkejroall blaek and 
white days ; the eighteenth, elereath, and iUleanth of «T«y 
month are white days. 



THE PEBSIAKS JS VOTiDOVt. 



793 



ftdored the sun. One of their khans, a lord of great 
consequence, who sat in the kiiig^s assembly, and 
gave his opinion upon things fitting and things un- 
fitting, never approached tlie ambassador without 
saying, "Well, sir! no sun yet I'* One day, when 
it was freezing, he found the amtiussador seated 
near the tire, wanning himself. *' Oh, sir," paid be, 
**I see you are worshipping the fire!^* Upon this, 
Mirza Firouz, in wrath, exclaimed to me, who was 
standing before him, " What words are these f He 
does not know, that if wc were worshipiH>rs of fire, 
it would not be the oflTcnjiive smoky tires of his 
country.* Even the Guebres, who are scarcely 
good enough to manure our fields, are scrupulous 
as to the purity of their fire ; what then must wc 
be, who look upon them as the unclcaiiest of in- 
fidels?^ Then turning to the mehmandnr, he said, 
" For the love of AlLih ! tell the khan that we never 
worship fire in our country except when it is cold ;'• 
to which Mohanied Beg, who was also in the room, 
added, '* And tell him that our holy jirnplict, bless- 
ed be his name! hath ordained, in tlie forty-first 
eurai of th^: Book, *^ worship not the sun, neither 
the moon ; but worship (iod wlio hath created 
them.*' This did not seem to satir^fy the khan, but 
he entered into a long explanation, through the 
mehmandar, about an ancient infidel who seemed 
to know a great deal more about our country than 
any of our own historians ; and who, in spite of uU 
we could say to the contrary, had made him and all 
England believe that we worshipped fire; and, 
moreover, that we cut our horses* throats in honor 
of the Run. 

*' Ha, ha !** exclaimed the ambassador, who was 
always ready for a joke ; ** seeing tlmt you have no 
sun in your country, to whose honor, may I ask, do 
you cut your horses* tails ?'* 

The khan then went his way, rubbing his hands, 
saying that fire was a very good thing. 

Deploring the ignorance of the nation we were 
doomed to live with, we determined no longer to 
lose sight of what was due to our religion, but to 
adhere to the practice of those ordinances decreed 
by our blessed Prophet, and to stand forth as 
champions of the true faith ; accordingly we de- 
termined to kill our own mutton. The English 
servants, when they saw Hassan, the cook, about to 
cut the throat of a sheep in one of the apartments 
of the house, exclaimed against the filth that such 
a custom would create ; but when they heard Mo- 
hamed Beg roaring out the Bismillahy and other- 
wise explaming our law, which forbids man to eat 
that out of which the blood hath not flowed, 
they opened the eyes of astonishment, and dropped 
the head of acquiescence. The ambassador also 
ordained that every fowl, for the future, was to 
have its throat cut, and to be thrown on the ground 
to bleed to death, after the Persian manner; so 
that, by the blessing of Allah, we might eat our 
food without endangering our consciences. 

Having established these customs, we began to 
pray and eat more at our ease than we had done 
since we lefl our country ; although we were con- 
vinced that, living in an impure country, our prayers 
coiUd not be of the same avail, no, not by one-half, 

* The Qoebres keep up their sacred fire with f^el that 
prodace* oeither smoke nor smell. They do nut allow 
bones, ordaro, or filth of any sort, to be mixed with it; and 
will not even permit it to be lighted by blowing with the 
month, tvft fear (^any impure odor. 



as those made upon our own soil Mohamed Beg 
threatened us with a double allowance of praying, 
which would not fail to be decreed to us bv the 
mollahs the moment we reached Persia, saying 
then* was no Iteh^nht^ no paradise, for those whose 
entreaties to the throne of Allah came from a land 



it 



overrun with swine, and overflown with wine,' 



for thev would be arrested before thev came to the 
gates of the highest heaven. This operated agree- 
ably u]>on our spirits, and made most of us cease 
praying ; *' for," said we, *' if wc are to pray double 
upon returning to Persia, what use is there in pray- 
ing at all while wc are in England V" Kight happy 
were we at this scheme, notwithstanding the solemn 
looks of Mohamed Ik*g, who wagj^ed his head to 
and fro, and exhorted us never to lose sight of the 
dignity of Mahomedans, and of the duties which 
our fiiitli enjoined. 

We now ventured to walk through the streets, 
although our dress and ai>p«?ara!ice attracted much 
o])S<Tvation ; but as we proceeded through the great 
labyrinth of the city, we began to fear that we 
shouhl never find our way back. We had nothing 
by which to direct our stops, for every house ai>- 
peared the same in our eyes. All the doors were 
alike, and the windows of the same shapes. There 
was n<'ither bath, nor caravanserai, nor barber*8 
shop, nor even a dunghill, that we could discover, 
from whence we could take a fresh departure ; but 
when we got into a great street it was interminable, 
and one might walk more in a straight line than in 
the Chahar Bagh of Ispahan. We lost ourselves 
so frequently, even at short distances from our own 
lumie, that I determined to adopt a plan which I 
had practised with success in the forests of Mazan- 
deran, when I was prisoner among the Turcomans. 
There I cut notches in the trees as I went, and by 
this means recovered myscdf if I lost my way. 
Here I provided myself with a piece of chalk, and 
marking every corner, I at length 8ucceede«l to 
walk great distances, and to find my way back with- 
out the help of any one. But these excursions were 
hazardous, for we were among a strange people, 
and scarcely a day passed without an adventure. 
Once I had strolled to some distance with Mohamed 
lieg; and as good luck would have it, our walk 
took us into green fields. There were many people 
walking to and fro; it was probably a Christian 
festival ; the day hapi>encd to be fine, and the sun 
shone almost as bright as in our country. We came 
to a beautiful si>ot, with grass smooth as a carpet, 
and Mohamed Beg exclaimed, "Allah! Allah! what 
a charming place for saying one*8 prayers." At this 
moment a clock of one of the mosques struck the 
English noon, and he could no longer resist. 
** There is the zohor^ noon,'* said he, " and although 
we have no muezzin to make the profession of faith, 
and to cull us to prsiycr, still let us not disregard 
the notice. Here is water at hand ; we will wash, 
and then make our devotions." To say the truth, 
I never had been a great sayer of prayers. Since 
the days when I was a prisoner in the sanctuary at 
Kom, where I had prayed enough for the remainder 
of my life, and where I had had a surfeit of genuflex- 
ion, I had always played at " hide and seek " with m j 
religious duties, never going upon my knees unless 
there was danger in not doing so. The absence of 
all such necessity in this unholy country was to me 
one of its greatest attractions, and therefore I cared 
not to leave it. But at the same time I did n 
wish to offend my compuiion ; and althoa^ 




lU 



THB FEBSUNS JH LOBDOH. 



fmed his invitAtion, yet I uaured him thtt 1 would 
wut until he had finished his doTotioDB. 

Ee tint Kashed his hands, anna, feet, and back 
of his ears, in an adjoiniag stream, aod having afr 
certained the direclioQ of Uccca, he sat down and 
combed Ms beard. He then took from bis person 
bis seals, rings, looking-glass, aud e\ery thing of 
value which he had about him, and taking the [ricce 
of bolj earth,* together with his beads, from his 
breast, he placed them before him, and put himself 
In the tirat altitude of prater. Rj this lime the in- 
fldels began to gather round us. What thej took 
US for, it ia difficult to say; most likelj forjugglvis, 
for they all looked with intense interest at the dif- 
ferent trinkets which Moliamcd Beg had dispUyed 
on the grass. As he stood up with hia feet joined 
together, emphatically pronouncing the /allith,\ 
upon raiuDg his bands before him, 1 Terily believe 
that they expected to see him vault into the air, or 



stomach, that bis wrath wm soon tniued int« 

Tomiting; his beard became distended, his fact 
turned white, and his eyee streained. Kever bad 
prayer been so little propitious. Instead of poor 
ing forth blessings, his mouth consoled itself with 
curses; and wheneier he could lake breath, il wsi 
refreshing to hear him devote the whole EngUsli 
nation to perdition, and announce to them that 
their fathers were now roasting in the fires of A 

Our eituation was DOt very enviable, particularij 
when sFe saw an inclination on the part of the sur- 
rounding mob to proceed to something more violent 
than beating Uohamed Beg'e stomacb. There wsi 
one man more violent than the real, who performed 
many feats, the object of which we conld in no 
wi&e understand ; ho clenched his Eat, put it elosi 
to my nose, and then took olf his coat. This 1 coii- 
ceived implied hosUlity, attliongh 1 knew that tai- 




aa I have seen some of their own 
mountebanks do in the street; but when he mere- 
ly went through his proatrations, touching the piece 
of holy earth, inscribed with the names of our 
blessed Prophet and the twelve Imans, with his 
forehead, they seemed quite diaappointed ; and one 
of them bad the insolence to lake it np and hand it 
about to his fellows to look at. Upon this my Per- 
■an pride was aroused. Reprobate as I was, I 
could not see ourselves so insulted, and a bit of our 
holy Uecca so abused. I darted forward to snatch 
the relic from the hand of one of the il^Bdels; my 
effort was received with loud bootings. Uohamed 
Beg, now in wrath, got upon bis logs, and, heedless 
of any thing but the insults oQered hia religion, 
drew bis knife, and would have buried it in the 
bowels of one of the infidels, when he leceived a 
blow which must have been inflicted by some un- 
seen agent, some diet, or some English ^n, which 
was thrown so exactly into the very ceulre of his 



* Th« PrraLana ■( prayvrs plaaa betbrs them 
el>r. Hid to be part of Iba kU ol 
stamped with holy 

t The Bnt pnjtt In tba 



liana, and wUah la 



ing off a hat im[died the contrary. To my astoD- 
ishment, I saw another man in the crowd step far- 
vard, and also divest himself of bis coat ; ttranga 
compliments, thought I, but I wu soon imdeceived. 
In one of the parties I recognized one of the Eng- 
lish servanta employed by the ambassador; and had 
scarcely had lime to make mjaelf known to him, 
when, to our extreme horror and amazement, Xo- 
hamed Beg and I saw a fi^t between these two 
men, the equal of which we had never before seen, 
not even fay the shah's best jwUitwnA Thejfought 
with great vigor and resolution ; but dot Mrrant ht 
a very short time waa the victor. Bit blows &Q 
thicker upon bis antagonist's (aoa than npon tba 
feet of a sufferer luider the bastinado In Penis, 
until every feature was loat, and IM bsoed fiw 
mercy, ^er he was well bcikUm, tlw; boS shook 
hands, and walked off apparentl; giMd Mands. 
We, however, could not recover oar ssiwilshiiMiiil. 
nor could we at all comprehctid tba at|jMt of our 
aervani'a interfarence, oltho*^^ bo ammdas OM 
he only fought out of conpHiaeiit to oa. Wo bad 
frequently before heard of Iba bosnttaBir of Iha 
Arabs to a stranger ; of Us kUUBg^la hat sbeep 
for his entertaiuneot; of Us dapmfaig UamU «r 



ur Loxnoy. 



795 



loold Huid up uid Gghi^ 
imet oi lomnp bii ctm, or ntting hii now 
■eked «lt, or bit head broken for tbe nnncf r, 
It wc kid ncTCT Trt heard. And Jtt ve hkd 
!B ihia Tnr act perfonned br an infidel, vhoni in 
rmiiidiwe condemaed to «t«rnal puniibnwatp. 
ihamed Beg pouled bii tiemd for a long while 
V to And Mme nlirlaclorT rearan for thi* phr> 
BenoQ ; but all he could diKOVer sas. that the 
iting whicb bad ma^t likelj been [nlended lor 
D, ud, bT the interpwiiion of file, fiLllen on an- 
KT. We returned honie making tnanj cielama- 
m, and utooished the amlwisador bj a recital 
■n we had witnessed. I 

[t appean that the kui|c |[oet iri11in[;lT everr year 
state, sumiunded bj all the majostT and mngni- 
SDceof a crowned bead, to open (he deiiberalions 

the coancil, uid CTen to invita thfm to settle 
w mueh he ouEht to epend ; liow tnanv mini»leni, 
lat number of genenii, how many troops, what 
intitieeof shipa, what atabaiuiirlon to maintain, | 
rftort, bow manj eipengee of everi- ilcscripcion [ 
ooght to incur. They eren hare the auiiacily. , 

wen aflsored, to settle in whsl manner he ought | 
npport his own wife. If one half of ihii were i 
«, we concluded that we might as well belieTe 
I other half; aud, in order to lie convinced with 

own ejce, the smbaniulor wllliualy accopted an 
itation to be present at the ceremony of 0[ieniiig 
I council, whieh, from what we could li'arn, re- 
abled in some infasure the great trlam-i-auin, the 
■at prostration of the people before the shah in 
rsa, on the featival of the A'o R"ia. 
the mehmandar informed the Uiria Firoui that 
I Dumber of pert ond admitted to the tbuli's pres- 
w OR this occasion was nMtricled lo a certain 
i\ and therefore it was proposed that neither I 
r anj of his Persiiui auiie should be of the part;, 
cordingly we saw him ilepart, BCconi|>atiied onl; 

the mehmandar; but we determined to tnake 
'n order to observe 



the paau^ nf the ronl proceaMiion. The whole 
citj waa in motion. Nerer before had we wen such 
an assembl>|:e of inlidfb. U'e. a handfiil of true 
belieTert. looked indeed talher ituigniScuit in Ibe 
^at msM ; but we were proud of being such, and 
would not have giTeu one hair of our beards for the 
millions of blaek hat« that waved to and fro before 
US. We poMed ourselves under a tree in a f^rden 
leading to the bouse of as:>eniblT. Several avenue* 
bordered the road Ihtviufh which the king was to 
pass; Kud. in onler to keep it clear, on each side 
were posted cavalry, mounted upon superb horses. 
for the time boinj;, we attncted more al[pntioa 
than any thinp eL>e, and were beginning to feci the 
insolence of the crowd, when luckily their atten- 
tion was soon after diverted from us hj the tp- 
proach of (he kin^, and we opened all oui eyes to 
see his mi^ealy pass. Before the proceMlon had 
reached us about a moH^s, we heard stranj^ wid 
unaecounlablc soundii, which we took for the Eng- 
lieb mode of paying homage to their monarch; 
sounds which in f onie nii'SSTire aMiniitaied to the 
(n'eetinjrd made by the Arabian woincu u|i«n the 
approai'h ofa great )kcrsonage. They were a mix- 
ture of crien, grosn^, and tussei. As tlie great 
conch in which the king sat drew near, the runhof tbe 
crowd was imtnensc, and immediately there issued 
from the thousands that stood near us such a shower 
of hisse.i, (bat we felt sure that do king could be 
more beloved by his peopio Iban VtA*. tfo much 
loyaUy was instantaneous in lis eflect ; it was as 
catching as fear ; and, almost involuntarily, we 
added our most nniflected hiMps to those of the 
Eurrounding crowd, the hue of our Otces almost be- 
conung black with the exertion. All (he collected 
acrpcuia of (lie plains of Mogan in a rage could not 
eiceed the bolHo we made. Wo became tlio jKilnt 
of obik'Tvation to all beholden. But what was our 
astonishment, I may add consternation, when, in- 
stead of meeting with the encourapenu'nt mid com- 
mendation wc expected, we found oan<elveii sur- 
rounded b; a host of men, with short pniiiled stieka 
' ■ iudividmUs of tbe 




796 



THE PEBSIAN8 IN LONDON. 



caralrj, who most unceremonioualy inrited us to 
dulodge from our tree, and to walk away with them 
to pkces unknown I 

*' What do these men want f"^ exclaimed Mo- 
hamed Beg ; *' what dirt do they eat f* 

^* Shall I giye them a taste of the knife?** asked 
Aga Begf the master of the horse. 

** Use no violence, by your child's soul I" exclaim- 
ed I, ** or they will strike our stomachs, as they did 
Mohamed Bcg's." 

The scene becoming much confused, we were 
about being very awkwardly situated, when a well- 
dressed Frank stepped up, and, seeing who we were, 
immediately interfered, and explained to the men 
with painted sticks, that whatever we might have 
done it must have been through ignorance. He 
released us from their superintendence ; and having 
kindly accompanied us to our home, we there ex- 
plained all that had happened ; and then to our 
confusion we found, that, instead of paying honor 
and respect to the shah of England, we had in fact 
been treating him worse than a dog. ** La illaha, 
iUallahl There is but one God!" exclaimed Mo- 
hamed Beg. " What a country is this ! Who ever 
thought of abusing one's king to ^is face too 1 Let 
us leave this people ; they are too bad. One never 
sees them pray; their wives are without shame; 
and they heap abomination upon their own king's 
head!" 

*^ By my sonl," exclaimed Aga Beg, '* I thought 
that hissing was the Frank mode of doing honor. 
We have all made a feast of abomination I" 

** But pray, sir," said I to the gentleman who had 
escorted us home, **tell me by what chance is it 
that the English people receive their king after this 
manner!" 

"The popularity of our king," said he, '"depends 
upon circumstances, which no human power can 
control. The people are ignorant, and are led by 
designing demagogues. Bread is dear, they hiss 
the king ; trade is dull, they hiss the king ; they 
hate peace, they hiss the king ; the queen behaves 
ill, they hiss the king. The following year, perhaps, 
bread is cheap and trade brisk, they cheer the king ; 
his ships or his armies gain a victory, they smother 
him with kindness ; his ministers make good 
speeches, and talk of reducing taxes, they will lay 
down their lives for him. Who can account," said 
he, *' for popular favor, or popular disfavor ? It is 
as uncertain as the wind that blows." 

" I tell you what sir," said I, taking hold of the 
tip of my beard, and holding it out to him, " do 
you see this ?" 

" Yes," answered he, " I see it." 

" Well then, by this I swear, and I can swear by 
nothing more sacred, that if the people of Teheran, 
upon the presence of their shah, were even to spit 
in his presence, or to do any thing by look or 
speech that indicated disrespect, he would order a 
katl-i-auniy a general massacre, to take place, and 
would not leave one rogue of them to look at the 
sun the next morning. By all the Imams, it is as 
true as I stand here.'* 

The gentleman at this speech opened his eyes 
with astonishment, and seeing perhaps how cheap 
we held other people's heads, he made us a low 
bow, and took his leave. 

By this time the ambassador had returned, and 
when we had related to him and to the mehmandar 
the adventures of the morning, they consoled us by 
laughing at our beards, and said, that if we expected 



to find in the English mob the same serrility which 
existed in the Persian, we were much migtiiken. 
"They are as difierent," said they, "as the dirty 
puddle in which a camel drinks is to the sea, which 
at one hour is agitated by a hurricane, at another 
lulled into a dead calm." 

Mohamed Beg answered, for his part, that be 
would rather belong to the puddle, if what he had 
seen to-day and the day before, when he had been 
so mauled, were acts illustrative of the people of 
England. 

The ambassador then described his adventures. 
Never had man seen so much in so short a space of 
time. A king on a throne ; dresses of all descrip- 
tions ; gold, silver, velvet ; sticks, swords, and gold 
maces ; men with most extraordinary wigs sprinkled 
with dust ; a multitude of (nnr<ihsy with scarlet and 
ermine cloaks; a rush of men, with a kedkhodOy 
covered with false hair, at their head ; and to crown 
all, women I " Oh such women I" said he, " I was 
in love with them all; they were all unveiled; 1 
saw much fiesh whiter than snow ; eyes that killed ; 
and teeth which smiled delight 1" 

We had never before seen our ambassador in sach 
a state. But there was one fair creature above the 
rest, of whose charms he raved ; he had never con- 
ceived that any thing human could be so beautiful ; 
his heart was on fire. It was plain that this cir- 
cumstance alone had reconciled him to a residence 
among the infidels ; and now we learned to appre- 
ciate the truth of that saying of our immortal 
Sheikah, " Be you seated in the most lonely shade 
of the valley of the angel of death, and let love be 
your companion, the desert will appear a paradise, 
and your wretchedness will seem beatitude." He 
called her hia jalibelleloob ;* swore that the leaf of 
her eye f was more tender than that of the rose ; 
that she was more brilliant than a moon fourteen 
days old ; \ and that she was in the very eyeball § 
of her age ; in short, he made one believe that she 

was a very pha>nix, " The one of ones." 

• «•••• 

There seemed now to pervade one new and uni- 
versal impulse throughout the city to congregate 
in a thousand different manners, for objects which 
to us were totally novel. The men sought the wo- 
men, and the women received the men. In the 
morning they met at occasional visits to talk upon 
matters of little importance^ then they congre- 
gated in troops on horseback, or in carriages ; they 
then dispersed, and separated into difierent com- 
panies to eat ; and although by the time they had 
done this, it was our time for going to bed, yet again 
they met in larger and more numerous assemblies, 
to dance, or to sit, or to be pressed together in 
masses in a manner difilcult to explain. In this we 
were told they followed their own pleasure; nor 
were these great meetings at all for the honor of 
their king, as our principal ones generally are, but 
purely for their own gratification. When we meet 
in large bodies it is usual to attend our shah ; and 
although we do congregate and eat together occa- 
sionally, yet whoever thought of doing so in the 
unbounded manner of England ? 

The mehmandar came into tae ambassador*! 
room the day after his appearance at the bouse of 
parliament, and said, " Here are five invitations to 
dinner to-day." "Allah, Allah!" exclaimed the 



* Bavisher of hearta. 
X An Eastem image Jbr 



tXhaayelld. 
I Plnnade. 



THE PEB8IANS IN LONDON. 



797 



^kfflbaasador, ^^fire invitatiooB ! who can eat five 

dinoers in one day ?" 

" It U not necessary to eat them all," answered 

'^he mehmandar; **it is enough that you accept 

^3oe. You eat one dinner, but you may go to as 

-siiany evening assemblies afterward ns you please. 

Sere is a whole handful of invitations." 

We remained perfectlv astonished. " Who can 

jEio through such labor,*^ said wc, ** and then live ? 
"We are reraians; we go to sleep when the last 
prayers have been chanted, and we wake with the 
<^wn. How is this?" 

** You will soon get accustomed to our manners," 
said the mehmander. ** We make little distinction 
between day and night at this season." 

Without more difficulty, the aniba.s8ador, accom- 
panied by the mehmandar and myself, went to the 
dinner in question, which was given by one of the 
viziers. He dressed himself in his best, putting on 
the cap of ceremony with the sliawl round it, and 

g'rding himself with his diamond-hiltcd dagger. 
e had found it more convenient to adopt the shoes 
of the Franks (excepting on very great occasions, 
when be preserved our own high-heeled slippers), 
because it was impossible for him to be always ac- 
companied by his shoe-bearer. He intimated that 
I was to accompany him, and accordingly I also 
made my person as fit to be seen as possible. 

No one came to inform us that the entertainment 
was ready ; no one said the BiwnUlah ! but we 
went straight to the vizier's house ; and we were 
aonounced by very loud knocks on a closed door, 
inflicted by strong servants. Other servants having 
appeared from within, we were invited to walk in. 
Ttke ambassador's name was then called out at stated 
intervals, until we were ushered into the hall of 
meeting. Here, at the threshold, we were re- 
ceived by the vizier, who himself was walking about 
as well as most of his guests, for there appeared to 
be perfect liberty on that score. We then went to 
the vizier*s wife, who seemed to be quite as much 
at home as her husband, and did her best by 
sweet smiles to make us welcome. There were 
several other khanums, very civil and handsome. 
If any portion of a veil had been thrown over them, 
to hide certain parts of their very white persons, I 
should have been in a fever of love at once ; but 
as it was, I scarcely thought of them as women. 
The conversation began by every person present 
appearing anxious to know whether we had seen the 
sun on that day ; for it was ascertained that it had 
been seen, but whether for one hour, or only half 
an hour, there appeared to be some serious doubts. 
The ambassador, evidently tired at this constant al- 
lusion to our supposed worship of the sun, turned 
off the observation by a compliment to the vizier's 
wife. '* You do not want a sun in your country," 
said he, " when you have such suns as the khanum^s 
eyes to give light and joy to the world t" 

When this was interpreted, it produced a univer- 
sal cry of approbation, and was immediately taken 
up, with the greatest good humor, by the vizier 
himself^ who said, *' If his excellency is to be an 
apostate, and if he is to worship these suns (point- 
ing to the lady's eyes) instead of his own, we must 
look about us. We must begin building harems, 
and manufacturing veils." 

Upon this, a great deal of agreeable joking took 
place, which animated the whole party, and indeed 
gave ns an insight into the English character we 
had never before acquired. We, Persians, who are 



so fond of a good saying, were delighted to find that 
so much merriment couJd exist among persons who 
usually live in a fog; and the ambassador, who 
thought that there might be some etiquette among 
them as to who should launch the first joke, seeing 
that they were in general so taciturn, willingly ven- 
tured to break the spell, and never lost an oppor- 
tunity for the future of putting in his word when- 
ever he could do so with propriety. 

The entrance of a person with white dust on his 
head to invite us to the feast, put an end for a time 
to the good humor that had broken out ; and when 
the company stood up, we discovered that there 
existed among the English. to the full as much eti- 
quette about precedence as in our country. But 
Allah ! Allah ! who, let me say, were the objects of 
it ? Mohanied Beg, when I related the fact, would 
not believe it. Women I — they, the women took 
precedence. They walked out of the room first, 
while the men seemed to struggle for the privilege 
of leading them forwards. Every honor was in- 
tended towards our ambassador ; he was invited to 
make his way with the vizier's wife, his right hand 
placed in her left ; and considering that this was 
the first time he had performed such a ceremony, 
he really did it amazingly well. Without even 
thinking of washing our hands before we began to 
eat, both men and women proceeded to the scene 
of action. What we Mussulmans were to do with 
our leil hands was always a subject of deep con- 
sideration ; but in a country of infidels we took 
liberties that no other emergency could ever sanc- 
tion. 

We entered a large room, in the centre of which 
was spread a table more curiously ornamented than 
any we had yet seen. Around this we placed our- 
selves, but not without of the difficulty of etiquette. 
I avow, that saving our own beards, which looked 
out of character among the smooth chins that 
wagged round the board, I was delighted at the 
sight. 'Tis true that much more noise was heard 
than during one of our entertainments ; for the un- 
ceasing activity of the servants with creaking shoes, 
the clash of plates, the ringing of glasses, the slash- 
ing and cutting with sharp instruments, and, above 
all, the universal talking of the assembly, created a 
din to which we were little accustomed, and which 
in Persia would be esteemed as highly indecorous.* 
But it was an enlivening siglit ; and excepting the 
absence of a Ilafiz to chant the luxuries of our wine, 
of the excellence of which even our blessed Pro- 
phet could have had no- idea, the entertainment 
would have been perfect. Of what the numerous 
di.shes were composed, I did not give myself the 
trouble to consider ; and without pausing to inquire 
whether the mutton had properly bled, or whether 
the poultry had died the true death, I eat whatever 
came in my way. I certainly made one or two 
scrutinizing pauses at a new sort of flesh, and which 
I fancied might be that of the unclean beast ; but 
*'in the name of Allah!" said I, '*what is the use 
of sticking about pollution, when we have now been 
steeped in it ever since we have lived among the 
infidels?" and so I ate of every thing that was of- 
fered to me. If Mohamed Beg had been with us, 



* Persian servants in attendance at an entertainment are 
scarcely heard. They do their work without shora; and 
as there is no handing of plates, and \o changing of knives 
and forks, the quiet is great compared to the din of our 
Ublea 



BE8PE0TABIUTT. 



during t1 



much at bia e*te as 



Mj 



B of the most experienced eaten of a dinner 
among Ihc English themselvea. He managed the 
•pOOOH, knives, claws, and pincers, with (turprisiDg 
deiteritv. 1 mmt own that I was not ao fortunate, 
for I made one or two miitakei merely from the 
farce of prcTioua habit, which eTideatly bad an un- 
favorable eflect upon thom around me. I shared 
my nei^hbor'a bread, which it here looked upon t» 
offpuB IP ne ll iH otherwise in Persia, I drank out 
of hu glass, and once I pi««nted a bit with my 



dered by your king V Still he waa at a loaa for is 
answer ; and I conctoded tlut thia migtit be a iv- 
tom borrowed from Islam. Vy ndglibor tuaird 
that the absence of the women left the meo >i 
greater liberty to talk and drink wine. " Ah, ihen," 
said I, " you must baie adopted that maxim oF llie 
East, which saith, "first dinner, thencontemlioa;'' 
but if drinking be your object, tbis is not iben; 
lo set about it. Do as we do in Penda ; gel up be- 
limea in the morning ; go into a garden ; seit yom- 
bgIT near a runnioK slTeain put flowers on jMi 
head have songsters and nightingales dnnk ll 
your senses aie gone , wait till tliey ntnrn tbea 




fingers A«m s dish before me, at which he made ■ 
•tart as if I had offered poison. Alihongh we did 

not git with our knees double, but were quite at our 
ease upon chairs, with legs pendant, yet the great 
length of the entertainment almost killed me. At 
length there was a gpneral move, but to my astonish- 
ment, the women only took their departure. This 
wiB the nearest approach to our own customs which 
I had yet seen, and I asked my nei^^hbor why this 
distinction was made T why the women alone went f 
Be seemed puiilcd for ao eiplinntion. " Is it thus 
ordained in your scriptures," said I, "or is it or- 



drlnk again, and take no thooght of time ; let day 
and night he the same, until at length you hare M 
completely soaked your«elf with wine, that It is tins 
to cry out, 'Enoughl enoughl'" 

Whether my neighbor underslood my atlcmpt l« 
explain myself in EogUsh, I know not, but he eyad 
me with aslonishment. 

At length, the dinner was oter, and with Qnirasb- 
ed hands we proceeded to the room of asaenbly, 
where we fonnd the viver't wife and her '■h-mim. 
ready again to receive oi. 



EESPBCTABILITT. 



.iNotmors. 



"PsiT, what do yon mean by 'Hcapectubiliiyf 
Is it wisdom or worth, lit? or rank or gentility f 
la it Touch sound sense T or a manner refined f 
Is it kindness of henrl? or expansion of mind* 
Is it learning or talent, or honor, or fame. 
That you mean by that phrase (so cxprcssire) to 

"So.no — these a 



A ' respectable perMn' may be a great fool,— ' 
Hare lust even the little he picked up at acbool,— 
Be a glutton, adulterer, deep drowned in debt,.— 
Uay forfeit his honor, his best friend forget, — 
Hay be a base sycophant, tyrmnt, or knave — 
But a livery-servant, at leaat, he muit have : 
In vice he may vie with the vHeat of liniier*— 
But he mtat keep a oook, and give oapital dloiMn 



THE ENTHUSIAST IK AKATOMT. 



799 



THE ENTHUSIAST IN ANATOMY. 



BT J0H9 OXEMrORD (bALZAC D*AN0I8). 



Thv youth, whom we shall call *^ToTn," — and 
nothing hut " Tom,*^ — was one of those individuals 
who labor with a fierce, burning anxiety, to burjtt 
through the trammels imposed upon them by a 
limited education,— one of those votaries of science, 
irhose energy seems to grow all the more, because 
t Ykas nothing to feed upon. He was very slightly 
!bnned, and had eyes so bright and shining, that 
irhen one gazed on him, one was inclined to over- 
look all his other thin, sharply-defined features. 
K^ever was there a more complete appearance of 
a clear intelligence in a corporeal form. 

The few luilf-pence which Tom was enabled to 
save from his scanty earnings at a laborious trade, 
he regularly expi>nded at the book-stall, and on one 
occasion was highly delighted at picking up a small 
book on Anatomy. The work was one of those 
that had long been superseded by more modern and 
better treatises, and the little plates were as ill and 
coarsely done as possible. Nevertheless, with him 
h had not the disadvantage of comparison. He 
thought it amine of science yet unexplored, and he 
suffered his whole soul to l>e absorbed by it. 

In a few weeks, he had transferred the entire 
contents of the work into his own brain ; and 
though he invariably carried the book in his pock- 
et, it was more out of respect to it, as an old friend, 
than from any further benefit to be derived from 
h. The names of every bone, cartilage, ligament, 
and muscle, of which he had read, were deeply im- 
printed in his mind ; and he could have passed with 
glory through the sharpest examination, provided 
it had been based on the contents of the little 
book. 

But Tom, in spite of his knowledge, was too in- 
telligent not to perceive the defective state of his 
t4X|uirements. Ho soon felt that his anatomy was, 
after all, a science of names rather than of things ; 
that though ho could have described accurately all 
the intricate bones of the skull, and all the mui^cles 
of the extremities, his descriptions would have been 
little more than a repetition of words committed to 
memory. He had not seen a single real object 
connected with his science. If he could but have 
Mi eyes upon a skeleton, what on advantage it 
would have been. 

We once read of a celebrated anatomist, who, far 
from admiring human beauty, regarded the skin as 
an impertinent obstacle to the acquisition of science, 
conceaUng, as it does, the play of the muscles. 
Whether such a clear notion as this ever entered 
the mind of our hero, we cannot say ; but certainly 
if some tall lean beggar passed him on the road, he 
would clutch convulsively at his knife, and foUow 
the man with a sad wistful look. 

One autumnal evening, he sat in the ale-house 
parlor, watching the smoke of his pipe, and indulg- 
ing in his own reflections ; for though the conver- 
■atlon in the room was noisy and animated, it had 
no interest for him. Devoted to his own pursuits, 
hirtha, deaths, and marriages were to him things 
of nought, and he paid no heed to the constant 
discoasiona which were held in the village on the 
•xtraordinary case of old Ebenezer Grindstone, who 
had been thought extremely rich, but in whose 



house not a farthing had been found after his de- 
cease, to the great disappointment of his creditors. 

Soon, however, there was such a violent dash of 
rain against the window, that even Tom was com- 
pelled to start, when he saw the door open, and a 
stranger enter, completely muffled in a cloak. The 
new-comer stood before the fire, as if to dry himself, 
and seemed to be of the same taciturn disposition 
as Tom, for he made no answer to the different 
questions that were addressed to him, nor did he 
even condescend to look at the speakers. The 
shower having ceased, and the moon shining bright- 
ly through the window, the stranger walked out 
again, without the sign of leave-taking. 

"That be a queer chap," said the ostler, "Fll 
run and see where he's going," — and he followed 
the stranger, who had awakened a curiosity in 
every one except Tom. Scarcely five minutes had 
elapsed, when the ostler rushed into the room, pale 
as death. 

" Udds huddikins ! ** said he ; and it was not be- 
fore a glass of spirits had been poured down his 
throat, that he could state the cause of his alarm. 
'* Old chap just pone out — got no proper face like — 
only a death^s head — he just looked round on me 
in the moon-light." 

" Do you mean to say," exclaimed Tom, " that he 
is nothing but a skeleton ?" 

" Aye — sure I do," said the ostler. 

" And which way did he go ?" 

** Why, towards the church-yard, sure," said the 
ostler. Tom waited for no more, but dashing down 
his pipe, he rushed out of the room, and tore along 
the road to the church-yard. When he had got 
there, he saw the stranger standing by the tomb of 
old Ebenezer Grindstone. The moon was shining 
full upon him, and as Tom approached, the cloak 
fell down, leaving nothing but a bare skeleton be- 
fore him. 

*' Thank my stars!" exclaimed Tom, "I have 
seen a skeleton at last I " 

"Young man," said the skeleton, in a hollow 
voice, while it hideously moved its jaws, "attend!" 

"How beautifully," cried Tom, enraptured, "can 
I see the play of the lower maxillary !" 

"Attend!" repeated the skeleton; "but, rash 
man, what arc you about V" it added, turning sud- 
denly round. The fact is, Tom w^as running his fin- 
ger down the vertebrae, and counting to see if their 
number corresponded with that given in his book. 
" Seven cervical, twelve dorsal," he cried with im- 
mense glee. 

The skeleton lost all patience, and, raising its 
arm, shook its fist angrily at Tom, who, with his 
eyes fixed on the elbow, merely shouted his joy, at 
perceiving the "ginglymoid" movement. 

The skeleton, who had been accustomed to terri- 
fy other people, was completely amazed at the sci- 
entific position taken by the young anatomist. In 
fact, the most extraordinary scene that can be con- 
ceived presently occurred ; for the apparition, feel- 
ing panic-struck at Tom*s coolness and scientific 
spirit, darted away from him, and endeavored to 
escape by dodging among the tombstones. Tom 
was too anxious to puraue his atudieii to allow him- 



{ BIIOAT COUKTetllF. 




Mlf to bo txfflcd inOifi vty ; and putting forth sll 
hii strength, soon oTcrtook the Bkelelon, and held 
him tight. A. conTei^lion ensued, in the course 
of irhich the skeleton eipluQed iliu he wu Old 
Grindstone himulf, who bud buried a quantity of 
money under ground, and could not rcet in p«v;c 
till it was dug up nod distributed atnoiig the credit- 
or). This ol&'e he requested Tom to perform. 

"Itwiilbe some trouble," said Tom, "and the 
■llkir is none of mine — but look je— I'm willing lo 
comply witb your request, if. as a reward, you will 
allow mc to come and study ;ou every night for the 
neit month. You may then retire to rest for «« 
long a time as you please." 

"Agreed," Buid the skeletan ; and, quite recov- 
ered from hia alarm, he shooL hands with Tom in 
tatiflcation of the bargain. 

Tom found the money, distributed It among the 
ereditora, tod pamed every night for tbe next 



hnrch-yard, observing hia belorec^' 
a It moved into any pouiioii hc:?^ 



month in the old chnrch-yi 

aheleton, which, a . . 

desired, gave him an opportonity of studying the* 

motion of the bones, in a way that bad not bcei^ 

enjoyed by any other anatomist. 

The young enthusiast, sitting at midnight will* 
tbe strange astuatant to his pursuits, would have? 
been a delightful sight, had any one posBCssed tl.e- 
courage to stop and look at the party. When lli^ 
moatb had expired, Tom and his good friend shook 
hands and parted witb great regret) but Tom had 
completely retained in his mind all he had fieeD, and> 
laid the foundation of that profound anatomical 
Bdencc by which he was afterwards so much distla- 
guiahed. 

It is needless to state that tbe above is the carlr 

history of the celebrated Dr. , and that all oth' 

baseleas fabrications. 



THE SHORT COURTSHIP. 



Ab a ponllemon was passing along one of the 
more retired streets of London, he stumbled over 
the body of an old man, «bum, on ciamination, he 
fbond ID a state of eicesmve inebriation, and who 
bad. In ronscquence, tumbled down and rolled into 
the kenncL He had not gone many yards further 
when he found an old woman very nfarly in Ibe 
name cireumstnnres. It immediately struck Ur. L. 
that this was come poor old couple, who, overcome 
with the fatigues of the day, had indulged tuo freely 
in some restorative beverage, whether llodgea' or 
Deady's tbe biHtorian does not say. Full of this 
idea, and animated by his own charitable disposition, 
Ur. L. aoon made arrangements for the reception 
of the poor couple into a neighboring public house, 



Hr. L. left 



should be undresaed and placed in a wi 
fortable bed. To bed they were pi " 
tbem lying ude by side, sooring ii 
likely to puss together a more bar 
than perhaps woidd have been tbe case, had they 
pooMSSed the Ml ei^oymcnt of their senses. L 
jourcieyod homewards, filled with the salisfactioa 
arising fVom the perfonruuice of a kind deed, and 
never t«flected that there was a possibility of hit 
having joined a pair whom the laws of Ood had not 
made one. Tbe fiurt was, that the old man and the 
old woman were perfect strangers to each othtf, 
and their being fonnd in a nmllar liluation was 
purely accidenUL In London, bowerer extntor- 



t " 



^> 



^'f J 



Appear, mtnj poor folks got Jrunk 

MOy SaturduT iurIiI, and nhat U not 
I, (hey are in tliin Rtato olYuii unable 
leir balance — tlio iuva uf griLvitjr men 
y, and the piilieiit rolk iulu (he keaneL 
ndly dill tliij Utc uuited pair sK>cp 

mornin),' — nbva llw light broke in 
id discliweU the secret. IinagMic the 

of the old ladr when the I'uiiii-ii uf 
(ere diNli|Hitud, and slie opened her 
loring partDer : — where Bhe wjig, or 
liuri?, she know noti It was 



' anunng p: 



linuate fau lej^ into hia old tattered breechci. Tlie 
landlord at last inlerfercd with the s.ulharitj of his 
Btution; and, on itiquir;, foimd that no breach had 
been luade wbiuh could nut be eiuity repaired. 
The old eentleman was asked if he had auy Dbjce- 
tion to lake his fair bedfellow for a hcipuiate durinR 
the reiiuiiudcr of his-lifu; be Manmiered out hiii 
oequiescence a* well u he coalU. and the enraged 
virgin eonwuled lu Boiouth down her anger on 
BaliiifaetioD being made to her injured honor. The 
bargnin was soon Btruek ; the happy pair were 
bundled olT lu I'liureh, amid^ the laughing Bhoula 
of the mob, where a panon waited to make good 
too precipitately formed by our chari- 
table fneud. 




FRIGHTS. 



10 to give iUustrniions of frigliia fami- 
ramily, and iiii9i'p|itible of dedoription. 
night Hcoue, conjured up by a auddun 

T11IEVF.9 1 

light, and ■' tho very houaea Beem 
loiiBoa and all. Tho "quiut family" 
its ntmosC iHli'h of quii'tueM. All 
I where no Bound i* heard. Abreath- 
rradeB the domicile. On a Huddon, 
nart cni«li, a rattling nonnd, below, 
itarta up in bed ; that, dnrls further 
thes. "What's that;" id the inward 
jTerybody. The thought of ihieTca 
ch in tnm; one U ccrlaiu that the 
I bMD forced open ; another in sure 



that the hnck-parlor sanh has been raided. They 
lie still, with pantinjc hearts, and listen. Again 
there ia a nuise ; it is like creaking foolsleps on the 
Btaira, or the 0|MMiing of ilrawcrs ; then all ia silent 
again, and the noii^e is renewed. 

At la.-'t, one litlla quaking Hi>ia renturea, half- 
Stifled, to whisper, " Sarah, are rou awaku •" And 
Sarah faintly answers, '■ Yes, did you heaj that?" 
and both busy themselTca in the bed, and dare not 
breathe. And then they hear a door open euftly, 
and they otter a luud cry of terror; and then in 
another minute the door of their own room opens. 
Bud with a loud scream (hey start up— only to see 
their dear good mama with a candle in Iier hand ; 
but sho is pale and frigblened, and derires to know 
if thtg had made the noise — but they had not; 



only th«T dlMinctl; heard loinebodr getttag In >t 
die biok-door, or the parloi^vindow. Then papa 
conunands th« whole smembled famil; " not to be 
frightened," mid thakei drcadfiillf — with cold — as 
be looks at Mb blunderbuK, and avova hia deler- 
tnimilion to proceed down-etaira. And then there 
is a " bmh r and i general listening. Yes, there 
u a noise still, and to the stairs ho adTances ; while 
his better-hidf lights hii wij, and holds his gar- 
ments tight to chevk his desperate enthusiasm ; and 
the eldest danghter hardly ventures beyond the 
obunber-door, but with astoniehing Ixildnesa and 
eienipiary daring springs a rattle ; and (be others 
hold on each b; each, taking fresh fright from one 
another's fears. What an atooiuit of suffering, 
dread, terror — is in the bosom of (he little quiet 
ftmilf, at down to the scene of danger they creep 
with tortoiM-pace I And what is all thia aniiet;, 



ndtM be heard, the whole frightened &mily wodK. « 
start, turn pale, quake, wonder, pant, acream, um. « 
spring rattlea, exactly as befbn. Vhen Fear tie^a. 
once taken poaseanon, Experienoe does not aiwa^ — 
make folks wise. Let us take for ■nothu' eiampH. • 
of the daily domestic rnmintr 

TtIS BTBABSE CAT. 
How vividly, among the event* of our boyi^l 
days, do ve remember the " atnoige cat" that g*::» 
into the lumiier-roomat the topofthe hoOHl Oaja.i 
elder brother and "the boy" had endeavored t^ 
dislodge the animal, which Bgured tn their descri ^y. 
tion aa a thing of intense blackness and mnniiiro w^ ^ 
dimeniions, with great frightful staring green eye-^L 
horrid long clawg, and twib a tall) Sot "fHgta-t. 
eneci of cats" were we, for woh«d»fcvoritc one of 
our own ; but tkit — it trebled in Btagoitude a^d 




noises I Perhaps the cat id clawing at a atrin"g tied 
to the latch of the pantry-door; or, perhaps, the 
atupid little kitten, having got her tail into the 
catch of the lost new patent mouse-trap, has draj^ged 
that ciccllent invention off the dresser, and is 
whisking round at intervals In a wearying and vain 
endeavor to extricate her unprehensile appendage ! 
" Dear me I well, I declare, how I have been fright- 
ening myself!" cries every member of the ahlvering 
ftmlly ; and the very next night, should the same 



horror the wildest and b 
(he then Eieier 'Chang 
magnified the "strange oat" into a monster; and 
then they witiiilly enlarged the picture to terrify «• 
— a (eM, in nhloh they succeeded, as wo dared nol 
go to the upper rooms alone. For two or thre« 
days thia " reign of terror" lasted, when, a favoi^ 
able opportunity being watched for, the "young 
master" and the " young man" marched up, broom 
and brush in hand, to hunt out this strange secreted 
intruder — this black tiger of the upper wUdemcas. 
As for our tiny self, we had ventured put of the 
way np-etairt to witness the remit. Imagining thai 
the enemy would make it* exit by an alUe wiHO*. 




Ob, horrorl A loud knockfaig wu beard aboTs ; a 
trsmendolu ihontliig next «roM, nccMded tnsUntl j 
bj an appaUing crj of "Here It cotoea I" Tbis 
was, shall we My tntmghf it waa too much; we 
turned uid j(e» down wrira — the laat " flight " of 
■tain being, with the aid of tbe handrail, but O" - 
leap. The atreet door 1 No, we coald not open 
Against it, then, we set our hack, in an agonj of 
liMr, and uttered a erj that wonld haTe temfled ~ 



whole legion of cats. The hunters were in fuH cry. 
Down came the wild animal, followed b; brooms 
and brushcB, bounding and rattling over tbe elaira 
—a clatter that rent tbe roof What saw we then F 
Kot a poor, half-starred, frighlened animal leapiog 
over the baoiaters to get eat of our wa^, aod to 
escape through thenrdeo door; no, of this piteons, 
this actaai speotacle, we saw nothing ; but, in its 
place— 3Sii 




xtremitj of misappreheiiaioii, we aetuallj <Sd see. 



A FCLL-DRGSB FA8TT. A TOAD IN A HOLK. 



A PULL-DBBSS PABTT. 




ILL TOO BE 0U9 7 



A TOAD IN A HOLE. 



Tot Prlarg of FalriMk were aswmblcd in a cham- 
ber idjolning Ihe (;rc?iit hall of their house : Ibe 
Abbot wu Beilcd in his chair of eminence, and all 
ejes were turned on Father KlcodemuB. Kot a 
word was uttered, until be who eeemed to be the 
object of so much interest, at length ventured to 
apeak. "It behooieth not one of my jean, per- 
chance," caid he, "to disturb the silence of my 
dden and superloTB; but, truly, I know not what 
meineth this meeting ; and mirelj my desire to be 
edified is lawful. Hath it been decided that we 
should follow the example of our neit-door neigh- 
bora, tbe Arroa^sn Friam, and, henceforth, be 
tongue-tied? If not, do we come here to eat, or 
praj, or hold council F Ye seem somewhat too 
grave for those bidden to a feast, and there lurk 
too man J amiles about the faces of many of ye, for 
this your silence to be a prelude to prayera. I can- 
not think we arc about to conault on au);hl ; be- 
canae, with reference be it spoken, those who pass 
for the wisest among us, look more ully than ia 
their wont. But if we be here to eat, let mm cat ; if 
to pray, let ue pray ; and if (o hold council, what ia 
to be the knotty subject of our debate f" 

" Thysolf," replied the Abbot. 

" On what score t" Inquired lueodemni. 

" On divers scores," quoth the Abbot ; " thy mis- 
deeda have grown rank ; wo murt even root them 
ont of thee, or root thee ont of our fraternity, on 
which thou art bringiog contumely. I tell thee, 



L DISBBRT." Br — CLIETI. 

Brothpr Kicodcmus, thy oBencea are numbertess M 
the weeds which grow by the way-side, Ilere U 
many who have much to say of thee ; apeak. Broth- 
er Ulick I" 

"Brother Kicodemus," said Father Click, "hath, 
truly, cvei been a gross feeder." 

" And a lover of deep and moat frequent pota- 
tions," quolh Father Edmund. 

" And a roamer beyond due boimda," added Fa- 
ther Hugo. 

"Yea, and given to the utterance of many fic- 
tions," muttered his brother. 

"Very voluble sIeo, and not altogether of to 
staid an aspect as becomcth one of bis order and 
mellow years," drawled Father James. 

"To speak plainly — a glutton," aoid the fits* 
apeak or. 

"Ay, and a drunkard," said the second. 

" Moreover, a niftbt-walker," said the third. 

" Also a liar," said the fourth. 

" Finally, a babbler and a buffoon," said the fifth. 

"Ye rate me roundly, brethren," cried Kicode- 
mus; "and, truly, were ye my jodges, I should 
speedily be convicted of these onencei whereof I 
am accused ; but not a man among toq ia fitted to 



and teU you why. Now, first, to deal with Brother 
Ulick — who upbraideth me with groa* feeding; — 
nntil he can prove that hia stomaon and mitM ara 



A TOAD IN A HOLE. 



805 



of the flame qiudity, clamor, and power digestiTe, I 
viU DOt, without protest, permit him to accuse me 
of devouring awinishl j. He is of so poor and weak 
a firame, that he cannot eat aught but soppets, with- 
out suffering the pangs of indigestion, and the noc- 
turnal Tiflits of incubi, and more sprites than tempted 
Saint Anthony. It is no rirtue in him to be abste- 
mious ; he is enforced to avoid eating the tithe of 
irhat would be needful to a man of moderate stoni- 
ich ; and, behold, how lean he looks ! Next, 
Brother Edmund hath twitted me with being a deep 
irinker. Now, it is well known that Brother Ed- 
irand must not take a second cup after his repast ; 
ieing flo pony of brain, that if he do, his head is 
racked wiUi myriads of pains and aches on the mor- 
row, and it liekh like a log on his shoulder, — if per- 
shanee he be enabled to rise fW>m his pallet. Shall 
le, then, pronounce dogmatically on the quantity 
Vt potation lawful to a man in good health ? I say, 
my. . Brother Hugo, who chargeth me with roam- 
ng, b lame ; and his brother, who saith that I am 
in atterer of fictions, hath a brain which is truly 
aoompetent to conceive an idea, or to comprehend 
I flict. Brother James, who arraigneth mc of volu- 
lOlty, paaieth for a sage pillar of the church ; bc- 
anae, naWng naught to say, he looks grave and 
lolda Ua peace. I will be tried, if you will, by 
Brafther James, for gross feeding ; he having a good 
BgMtion and an appetite equal to mine own : or by 
Brother Hugo, for drinking abundantly ; inasmuch 
IS he is wont to solace himself, under his infirmity, 
irith a full flask : or by Brother Ulick, for the ut- 
terance of fictions ; because he hath written a his- 
tory of some of The Fathers, and admireth the blos- 
loms of the brain : or by Brother Edmund, for not 
^ing sufficiently sedate ; as he is, truly, a comfort- 
ible talker himself, and, although forced to eschew 
irine, of a most cheerful countenance. By Hugo's 
^ther I will be tried on no charge, seeing that he 
is, was, and ever will be — in charity I speak it — an 
egregious fool. Have ye aught else to set up against 
ne, brethren ?" 

** Much more, Brother Nicodemus,*^ said the Ab- 
bot, "much more, to our sorrow. The cry of our 
raasals hath come up against thee ; and it is now 
^wn so loud and frequent, that we are unwillingly 
Boforced to assume our authority, as their lord and 
thy superior, to redress their grievances and correct 
thy errors." 

** Correct me r exclaimed Father Nicodemus ; 
^why, what say the rogues? Dure they throw 
Unr, blain, or blemish on my good name ? Would 
that I might hear one of them I" 

" Thou shalt be gratified ; call in John of the 
Sough.** 

In a few moments, John of the Hough appeared, 
irith his head bound up, and looking alarmed as a 
recently-punished hound when brought again into 
the presence of him by whom he has been chas- 
tised. 

"Fear not,** said the Abbot ; " fear not, John o* 
the Hough, but speak boldly ; and our benison or 
maliflon be on thee, as thou speakest true or false." 

" Father Nicodemus,** said John o* the Hough, in 
% Toice rendered almost inaudible by fear, ** broke 
DBy head with a cudgel he weareth under his cloak.** 

"When did he do this?** inquired the Abbot. 

" On the feast of St. James and Jude ; oft be- 
Ibre, and since, too, without provocation ; and, Ust- 
ly, on Monday 8e*nnight." 

"Wliy, thou Btrangely perverse varlet, dost thou 



say it was I who beat thee ?** demanded the accused 
inar. 

" Ay, truly, most respected Father Nicodemus.** 

" Dost thou dare to repeat it ? I am amazed at 
thy boldness — or, rather, thy stupidity— or, perhaps, 
at thy loss of memory. Know, thou naughty hind, 
it was thyself who cudgelled thco I Didst thou not 
know that if thou wert to vex a dog ho would snap 
at thee ? — or hew and hack a tree, and not fly, it 
would fall on thee ?— or grieve and wound the feel- 
ings of thy ghostly friend Father Nicodemus, he 
would cudgel thee? Did I rouse myself into a 
rage? Did I coll myself a thief? Answer me, my 
son; did I?** 

** No, truly, Father Nicodemus.** 

" Did I threaten, if I were not a son of Holy 
Mother Church, to kick myself out of thy house ? 
Answer me, my son ; did I ?** 

" No, tnily. Father Nicodemus. 

" Am I less than a dog, or a tree ? Answer me, 
my son ; am I ?" 

" No, truly. Father Nicodemus ; but, truly, also—** 

" None of thy buts, my son ; respond to me with 
plain aye or no. Didst thou not do all these things 
antecedent to my breaking thy sconce ?** 

** Aye, truly, Father Nicodemus." 

** Then how canst thou say /beat thee ? Should 
I have carried my staff to thy house, did I not 
know thee to be a churl, and an enemy to the gfood 
brotherhood of this house ? Was I to go into the 
lion's den without my defence? Should I have de- 
meaned myself to phlebotomize thee with my cudgel 
(and doubtlcM the operation was salubrious) hadst 
thou not aspersed me ? Was it for me to stand by, 
tamely, with three feet of blackthorn at my belt, 
and hear a brother of this religious order, betwitted 
as I was by thee, with petty larceny ? Was it not 
thine own breath, then, that brought the cudgel 
upon thy caput? Answer me, my son." 

*' Load forth John of the Hough, and call in the 
miller of Hornford," said the Abbot, before John of 
the Hough could reply. ** Now, miller," continued 
he, as soon as the miller entered, ** what hast thou 
to allege against this our good brother, Nicode- 
mus?" 

"I allege," replied the miller, **that he is 
naught." 

*' Oh ! thou especial rogue !" exclaimed Father 
Nicodemus ; *^ dost thou come here to bear witncM 
against me ? I will ini[>each thy testimony by one 
assertion, which thou canst not gainsay; for the 
evidence of it is written on thy brow, thou brawny 
villain ! Thou bearest malice against me, because 
I, some six years ago, inflicted a cracked crown on 
thee, for robbing this holy house of its lawful meaL 
I deemed the punishment adequate to the offence, 
and spoke not of it to the Abbot, in consideration 
of thy promising to mend thy ways. Hadst thou 
not well merited that mark of my attention to the 
interests of my brethren, the whole lordship would 
have heard of it. And didst thou ever say I made 
the wound ? Never ; thy tale was that some of thy 
mill-gear had done it. But I will be judged by any 
here, if the scar be not of my blackthorn's mak- 
ing. I will summon three score, at least, who shall 
prove it to be my mark. Let it be viewed with 
that on the head of thy foster-brother, John of the 
Hough — I will abide by the comparison. Thou hast 
hoarded malice in thy heart from that day ; and 
now thou comest here to vomit it forth, as thou 
deemest, to my undoing. But, be sure, caitiff, that 



-A TOAD IH A H6LS. 



I ih>ll t«nffy upon thT iconce hereafter ; for I know 

thou Art rogue enougli to rub if thou const, and fool 
enough to rob with so little diroretlon aa to be earily 
detected; and even if my present etatTbe wotd out, 
(her* be othen in the woodfl : — ereo — " 

"Peace, Brother Nicodemus 1 eicUimed the 
Abbot; "approach not a BiDt;le pace nearer to the 
miller ; nrilher do thon threaten nor browbeat him, 



thee." 



huBgrj eels o( 
Ut hands on 



«Were it not for the reTerenee I owe to those 
who are roond me, and ray unwillin^nem to commit 
even so trifling a liu," sud Nicodemus, " I would 
take this sUnderous and ungrateful knave belwiit 
my flnf^r and thumb, and drop him among the 
' -J eels of his own mill-atream. I chafe apace : 
, brethren! — (or I wai wroth, and 
, n these moods, — so weak ia man — to do 
inlncbief ere mj' humor subtiide." 

" Speak on, miller," said the Abbot ; " and thou. 
Brother Nloodemns, give waj to thine Inward ene- 
m;, at thy peril." 

" I will tell him — an' you will hold him back, and 
■elie his staff," said the miller, — "how he and the 
NJ8(«ring boatmaD of Pramplon FerrT — " 

"My time is coming!" eiclaimed Ji'ieodemua, la- 
terrnpling the miller; "bid him withdraw, or be 
will have a sore head at his supper." 

"Tbey caroused and carolled," said the miller, 
"with two trarellerB, like akeldring Jacks o' the 
Oagon, until — " 

"Lay bands on McodetDUS, aU!" cried the Al>- 
bot, as the enraged friar strode towards the miller; 
" lay hands on the madman at once !" 

" It is 100 lale," said Kicodemus, drawing forth a 
cndgel from beneath bis cloak ; " do not hinder me 
now, for my blackthorn rcTerencea not the beads 
of the holy fralemity of Fairoak. Hold off, I say I" 
eiclaimed he, as several of hie brethren roughly at- 
tempted to seiie him ; " hold off, and mar me not 
In this mood; or to-dar will, hereafter, b« called 
the Feast of Blows. Nay, then, if you will not, I 
strike — may you be marked, but not maimed!" 
The friar l)egin to level a few of the moat resolate 
of those about him as he spoke. "I will deal 
Ughtly as my cudgel will let me," pursued be. " I 



strike indlserlminatelr, and irithont nallct, I pro- 
test. May bleagings follow these hlowa! Collier 
Ullck, 1 griave that you have thruat youraelf within 
my reach. Look to the Abbot, some of ye, for,— 
miserable me I — I have laid him low. Han Is weii, 
and this most be atoned for by fasting. Where l> 
the author of this miachierf Miller, where art their 
Father Ntcodemua continued to lay about him 
very lustily for Beveral minutes ; but, before lit 
could deal with the miller as he wished. Friar Hugo'i 
brother, who was on the floor, caught bim by [be 
legs, and suddenly threw bim prostrate. He ru 
immediately overwhelmed by numbers, bound hud 
and foot, and carried to his own e«ll ; wherr ba 
was closely confined, and most vigilantly watched. 
until the superiors of his order could be aBienibled. 
He was tried in the chamber which had been llie 
scenAif his eiploit*: the charf^ of having rudeli 
raised his hand againM the Abbot, and belahotfd 
the holy brotherhood, was fully proved; and, en 
twenty-four hours had elapsed. Father Nicodemu 
found himself enclosed, with a |:ritcher of water and 
a loaf, in a niche of a stone wall, in the lowest vadi 
of Fairoak Abbey. 

He soon began to feel roond him, in order (s 
ascertain if there were any chance of eaeapiug from 
the tomb to which he had been consigned : the 
walU were old, but tolerably sound ; be considered, 
however, that it was his daty to break out if he 
could; and he immediately determined on makiai; 
an attempt. Putting his back to the wall, whicli 
had been built up to enclose him fbr ever from Ibe 
world, and his feet against the opposite nde of tbt 
niche, he strained every nerve to push one of then 
down. The old wall at length began to move ; be 
reversed his position, and with his feet flrmtT 
planted against the new work, he made such a tre- 
mendous effon, that the ancient stonea and mortar 
gave way behind him. The next moment he found 
himself lyinR on hia back, «itb a quantity of rub- 
bish about him, on the cold pavement of a vanh, 
into which sufficient light glimmered, through > 
grating, tn enable him to ascertain that he was no 
lonRcr In any part of Fairoak Abbey. 

The tongue-tied neighbors to whom Nicodemu 




A TOAD IN A HOLE. 



SOT 



kad tlhided, when he broke silence at that meeting 
of hia brethren which terminated so unfortunately, 
were monks of the aame order as those of Fairoak 
Abbey ; among whom, about a century and a half 
before the time of Nicodemus, such dissensions took 
plaee, that the heads of the order were compelled 
to iaterlere ; and under their sanction and adrice, 
two-and-twenty monks, who were desirous of follow- 
faig the fine example of the Arroosians of St. Augus- 
tin, — ^who neither wore linen nor ate flesh, and ob- 
senred a perpetual silence,— receded from the com- 
mnidty, and elected an Abbot of their own. The 
left wing of Fairoak Abbey was assigned to them 
for a residence, and the rents of a certain portion 
of iti lands were set apart for their support. Their 
link care was to separate themselves, by stout walls, 
from all communication with their late brethren ; 
and np to the days of Kicodemus, no friendly com- 
monion had taken place between the Arroasian and 
its mother Abbey. 

NIoodemus had no doubt but that he was in one 
of the vaults of the silent monks : in order that he 
might not be recognized as a brother of Fairoak, he 
took off his black cloak and hood, and even his 
eaasock and rochet, and concealed them beneath a 
few stones, in a comer of the recess from which he 
had iust Uberated Idmself. With some difficulty, he 
reached the inhabited part of the building ; after 
terrifying several of the Arroasians, by abruptly 
brealdng upon their meditations, he at length found 
an old white cloak and hood, arrayed in which he 
took a seat at the table of the refectory, and, to the 
amasement of the monks, tacitly heljjcd himself to 
a portion of their frugal repast. The Superior of 
the community, by signs, requested him to state 
who and what he was ; but Nieodemus, pointing to 
the old Arroasian habit which he now wore, wisely 
held his peace. The good friars knew not how to 
act : — Nicodemus was suffered to enter into quiet 
possession of a vacant cell ; he joined in their silent 
devotions, and acted in every respect as though he 
bad been an Arroasian all his life. 

By degrees the good monks became reconciled to 
his presence, and looked upon him as a brother. 
He behaved most discreetly for several months; 
but at length having grown weary of bread, water, 
and sQence, he, one evening, stole over the garden- 
wall, resolving to have an eel-pie and some malm- 
sey, spiced with a little Jovial chat, in the company 
of his trusty friend, the boatman of Frampton Ferry. 
His first care, on finding himself at large, was to go 
to the coppice of Fairoak, and cut a yard of good 
blackthorn, which he slung by a hazel gad to his 
girdle, but beneath hia cassock. Resuming his path 
towards the Ferry, he strode on at a brisk rate for 
a few minutes ; when, to his great dismay, he heard 
'the sound of the bell which summoned the Arroa- 
sians to meet in the chapel of their Abbey. 

'*A murrain on thy noisy tongue!^' exclaimed 
Nicodemus, ** on what emergency is thy tail tugged, 
to make thee yell at this unwonted hour ? There 
b a grievous penalty attached to the offence of 
cpiitting the walls, either by day or by night ; and 
as I am now deemed a true Arroasian, by Botolph, 
I stand here in Jeopardy ; for they will assuredly 
discover mv absenee. I will return at once, slink 
into my cell, and be found there afflicted with a 
lethargy, when they come to search for me ; or, if 
occasion serve, join my brethren boldly in the 
chapel.** 
^ TiiB bell hftd scaroely ceased to toU, when Nico< 



demus reached the^ garden-wall agidn; he clam- 
bered over it, alighted safely on a heap of manure* 
and was immediately seized by half a score of the 
stoutest among the Arroasians. Unluckily for Nico- 
demus, the Superior himself had seen a figure, in 
the costume of the Abbey, scaling the garden-wall, 
and had immediately ordered the bcO to be rung, 
and a watch to be set, in order to take the offender 
in the fact, on his return. Tlie mode of administer- 
ing justice among the Arroasians, was much more 
summary than in the Abbey of Fairoak. Nicode- 
mus was brought into the Superior's cell, and di- 
vested of his cloak ; his cassock was then turned 
down from his belt, and a boirs-hide thong severe- 
ly applied to his back, before he could recover him- 
self from the surprise into which his sudden capture 
had thrown him. His wrath rose, not gradually as 
it did of old, — but in a moment, under the pain and 
indignity of the thong, it mounted to its highest 
pitch. Breaking from those who were holding him, 
he plucked the blackthorn he had cut, from beneath 
his cassock, and without either benediction or ex- 
cuse, silently but severely belabored all present, the 
Superior himself not excepted. When his rage and 
strength were somewhat exhausted, the prostrate 
brethren rallied a little, and with the aid of the re- 
mainder of the communitv, who came to their as- 
sistance, they contrived to despoil Nicodemus of his 
staff, and to secure him from doing further mis- 
chief. 

The next morning, Nicodemus was stripped of his 
Arroasian habit; and, attired in nothing but the 
linen in which he had first appeared among the 
brethren, he was conducted, with very little cere- 
mony, to the vaults beneath the Abbey. Every 
member of the community advanced to give him a 
parting embrace, and the Superior pointed with his 
finger to a recess in the wall. Kicodemus was im- 
mediately ushered into it, the wall was built up be- 
hind him, and once more he found himself entombed 
alive. 

** But that I am not so strong as I was of yore, 
after the lenten fare of my late brethren,** said 
Nicodemus, *^ I should not be content to die thus, 
in a coffin of stones and mortar. What luck hast 
thou here, Nicodemus?" continued the friar, as, 
poking about the floor of his narrow cell, he felt 
something like a garment, with his foot. '* By rood 
and by rochet, mine own attire ! — the cloak and 
cassock, or I am much mistaken, which I left be- 
hind me when I was last here ; for surely these are 
my old quarters ! I did not think to be twice ten- 
ant of this hole ; but man Is weak, and I was born 
to be the bane of blackthorn. The lazy rogues 
found this niche ready-made to their hands, and, 
truth to say, they have walled me up like workmen. 
Ah, me ! there is no soft place for me to bulge my 
back through now. Hope have I none : but I will 
betake me to my anthems ; and perchance, in due 
season, I may light upon some means of making 
egress.** 

Nicodemus had, by this time, contrived to put on 
his cassock and cloak, which somewhat comforted 
his shivering body, and he forthwith began to 
chant his favorite anthem in such a lusty tone, that 
it was faintly heard by the Fairoak Abbey cellar- 
man, and one of the friars who was in the vaults 
with him, selecting the ripest wines. On the alarm 
being given, a score of the brethren betook them- 
selves to the vaults; and, with torches in their 
hands, searched every corner for the anthem-eingeri 



THE DBAF FOSTIUOir, 



but whhoat RKCMi. l.t leogth the eeUunun ven- 
tured to obserre, thkl, la b^ opinion, the louiidfl 
ome from the wail ; uid the color left the cheeliB 
of all aa the recollection of Nicodeoiiu Saahed upon 
them. The; gathered round the place where Ihej 
had enclosed him, and bood felt eatisfied that the 
ftwfiil anthem was there more dutincllj heard than 
in any other pan of the thuIi. The whole fratei^ 
nit; won aiuiembled, and endeavored to eome to 
aome reeolotjon as to how they ouglit to act. With 
fear aod trembling, Father Hugo's brother mi 
that (hej should at once open the wall : thia 
poxal was at Grat rejected with contempt, on 
count of the koown Btupidltj of the person with 
whom it originated ; but as no One ventured to sug- 
gest an]' thing, either better or worse, it wm at last 
uoaniraouB!; agreed to. With mucli solemnitTi 
the; proceeded to make a large opening in the wall. 
In a few minuteB, Fatber Kicodemus appeared be- 
fore them, arrajed in his cloak and casaock, and 
not much leaner or leas raay thin when the; bade 
him, »a the; thought, an eternal adieu, nearl; a 
jear before. The friars shouted, "A miracle I a 
miracle r and Nicodemus did not deem it by anj 
meant neccBsary to contradict them. " Ho, ho !" 
brethren," exclaimed he, "you are coming (a do 
me justice at laat, are yoaf Bj faith and troth, but 

Gn are tardj I Your consciences, methjuks, might 
ve urged ;ou to enact this piece of good-fvUoK- 
abip some week or two a^o. To dwell ten months 
and more in so dark and solitary a den, like a toad 



aok no (me to beliere ma on m; bare word. Tm 
have wronged me, brethren, much ; but I Ibi^g 

jou freely. 

"A miracle I a miracle!" again ahouted tlie 
amazed monks. They most respectfully deellnol 
the proffered familiarities of Kicodemus, and stl 
gaied on him with profound awe, even alter (be 
most incredulous among them were conTlnced, by 
the celerity with which a venison pasty, flanked br 
a plaller of brawn, and a capacious Jack of Cjpmi 
wine vanished before him, in the refectory, that be 
was truly their Brother Nicodemus, and still in the 
flesh. Ere long, the jolly friar became Abbot of 
Fairoak : he was dubbed a sunt after bis deceaM ; 
but BB no miracles were ever wrought at his shittK, 
hie name has unce been struck out of the calendar. 



a hole, 1 



Let the r 






doubts, assume my {dace, and judge for himself. 1 




THB DEAF POSTILION. 



Is the month of January, 1804, Joey Duddle, a 
well-known postilion on the North itoad, caught a 
cold, through sleeping without his night-cap; deaf- 
ness was, eventually, the consequence ; and, as it 
will presently appear, a young fortune-hunter lost 
twenty-thousand pounds, and a handsome wife, 
through Joey Duddle's indiscretion, in omitting, on 
one fatal occasion, to wear his sixpenny woollen 
ni(Ait-capk 

Joey did not discontinue driving, ancr his misfor- 
tune ; his eyes and his spurs were, generally speak- 
ing, of more utility in his monotonous avocation, 
than hiieara. His stage was, invariably, nine miles 
up the road, or, "a short flfteen" down towards 
Oretna ; and he had repeated his two rides so often, 
that he could have gone over the ground blindfold. 
People in chaises are rarely given to talking with 
their postilions; Joey knew, by experience, what 
were Che two or three important questions in post- 
ing, and the usual times and places when and where 
they were asked; and he was always prepared with 
the proper aiuwen. At those parts of the road, 
where objects of interest to strangers occurred, 
Joey faced about On his saddle, and if be perecived 
the eyei of his passengers fixed upon him, their 
lips in motion, and their fingers pointing towards a 
gentleman's seat, a fertile v^ley, a beautiful stream, 
or a fine wood, he naturally enough presumed that 
they were in the act of inquiring what Ihe seat, the 
valley, the stream, or the wood was called ; and he 
replied according to (he iikcl. The noie« of the 



wheels was a very good excuse for auch trifling 
blunders as Joey occasionally made ; and whenever 
he found himself progressing towards a dilemma, 
he very dexterously contrived, by means of a sly 
poke with his spur, to make his hand-home evident- 
ly require the whole of his attention. At the 
journey's end, when the gentleman he had driven 
produced a purse, Joey, without looking at Us lips, 
knew that he was asking a qtieaUon, to which it 
was his duty to reply " Tnirteen and oxpence," or 
" Two-and-twenty shillings," according a* the job 
bad been, "the short up," or "the long down." 
If any more questions were asked, Joey (uddoilT 
recollected something that demanded hli ImMdiale 
attention ; begged pardon, promised to be back in 
a moment, and disappeared, never to retDin. Dm 
natural expression of his featurea indioal«d k re- 
markably taciturn dispoeitloti ; almoat everjone 
with whom he came in contact, was deterred, by 
bis physiognomy, Irom asking him any but nawa- 
sary questions ; and as he was eiperienned eww^ 
tu answer, or cunning enough to evade tlieae, when 
be thought fit, but few traveDera ever dlecovered 
that Joey Duddle was deaf. So bUnd ll man In 
some cases, even to Ma bodily defects, that Joey, 
judging from his general success Id giTtng comet 
reiuies to the queries propouEded to him, alnM 
doubted his own infirmity ; and never would adirit 
that be was above one point beyond a Bttle bwd 
of hearing." 
On the first of June, in the year IBOe, abont alaa 



THE DKAF POOTILIOK. 



I the morniDg, & chiise uid four vm per- 
>pn»chiDg tow&rdB the inn kept by Joey'a 
X a Bnil-nite Gretaa-Orepn gallop. As it 
[p to the door, the posl-hoya TOcifemted 
oil for two pair of horses in b hurry; 
irtatiMelj, the innkeeper had only Joey 
its at home ; and u the four horses which 
the chaise Trom (be last postlng-houae, had 
lone ■ double job that day, the lads would 
Ibem on, through bo beavy a stage as " the 

eicenlTely provoking!" excUimed one of 
eogerti "1 am certain that our pursuer* 
BT Dehind us. The idcA of having the cup 
lambed from my very lipt, — of such beauty 
enee being snatched from me, for vant of 

pair of paltry posters, driTcs me frantic!" 
«tiia-Oreen affair, I presume, sir," obaerTed 
titife laadlord. 

mtleman made no scruple of admitting that 
[ID away with a fair young creature who 
oled him, and that she was entitled lo a 
if twenty thousand pounds; — " one half of 
xmtinued the gentleman, "t would freely 

I bad it, — to be, at this instant, behind four 
campering away, due north, at full speed." 
I assure you, mr," auid the landlord, " that 
airof sachanimalaaglolTer you, will carry 
r the ground as quick as if you bad ten 
' the regular road-hacks. No man keeps 
.ttl« than 1 do, and this pair beats all the 

my it«blet by two miles an hour. But in 
tes, perhaps, and certainly within half an 

•nhourl half aminule's delay might ruin 
lied the gentleman ; I hope 1 shall Hnd tlic 
; you have given your cattle a correct one ; 
poniliOD." 




Before tfali ihort conTenatlon between the nntle- 
man and the innkeeper was concluded, Joey Duddia 
had put-to his horses, — wbiuh were, of cOUrM, 
kept hameased, — and taken his seat, prepared to 
start at a moment's notice. He kept his eye upon 
the innkeeper, who gave the usual nf^ntl of a ra]dd 
wave of the band, as soon as the gentleman —ntnit 
speaking; and Joey Duddle's cattle, in obedience 
to the whip and spur, hobbled off at that awkward 
and evidently painful pace, which is, perforce, 
adopted by the most praiseworthy post-horses for 
the first ten minutes or so of their journey. But 
the pair, over which Joey, presided, were, as the 
innkeeper had asserted, very speedy; and the gen- 
tleman loon felt satisfied, that it would take an ei- 
traordinary quadruple team to overtake them. Hil 
hopes rose at the sight of each succeeding mile- 
stone ; he ceased to put his head out of the window 
every five minutes, and gated anxiously up the 
road; be already anticipated a triumph, — when a 
crack, a crush, a shriek from the lady, a jolt, an 
instant change of position, and a positive pause oc- 
curred, in the order in which they are staled, wiUi 
such suddenness and relative rapidity, that the gen- 
tleman was, for a moment or two, utterly deprived 
of bis presence of mind by alarm and astonishment. 
The bolt which connects the fore-wheeU, apllntei> 
bar, springs, fore-bed, aile-tree, et cetera, with the 
perch, that pasees under the body of the chaise, U> 
the hind wheel-npHnge and carriage, had snapped 
asunder; the whole of the fore parts were Instantly 
dragged onwards by the horeea; the brmcet, by 
which the body was attached to the fore-springs, 
gave way ; the chaise fell forward, and of couiae, 
rcmaiued stationary with its contents, in the middle 
of the road ; while the Deaf Postilion rode on, 
with his eyes intently filed on vacuity before him, 
as though nothing whatever had happened. 

Alarmed, and indignant in the highest 
degree, at the postilion's conduct, the gen- 
tleman shouted with all his might such ex- 
clamations as any man would naturally use 
on such an occasion ; but Joey, although 
St II but at a little distance, took no notice 
ofvhat had occurred behind his back, and 
very complacently trotted his horses on at 
the rate of eleven or twelve miles an hour. 
He thought the cattle went belter than ever ; 
his mind was occupied with the prospect of 
a speedy termination (o his journey ; he felt 
e a ed at the idea of outstripping the pur- 
suers, — for Joey had discrimination enough 
to perceive, at a glance, that his paseengere 
we e runaway lovers, — and he went on very 
much to his own satisfaction. As he ap- 

t> oached the inn, which terminated "the 
Dng down," Joey, as usual, put his horses 
upon their mettle, and they, having nothing 
b t a fore-carriage and a young lady'a trunk 
bch nd them, rattled up to the door at a rate 
unexampled in the annals of posting, with 
a 1 he Utile boys and girls of the nciglibor- 
hood hallooing in their rear. 

It was not until he drew up to the inn 
door, and altf;hled from his saddle, that 
Joey discovered bis disaster; and nothing 
could equal the utter astonishment which 
bis features then displayed. He gazed at 
the pUce where the body of his chaise, 
his passengers, and hind-wheels ought to 
have been, for above a minute ; mil then 
suddenly started down the road on foot. 



THS FOBoa or atsocwnijKEa. 



under an idea that he ntnft toj noenllj hkve 
dro|H)ed th«m. On reaohitiK > little etevfttlon, 
whioh oommuided aboTe two miles of the grouud 
OTer which hg had come, he Touad, to hi* ntter 
dUmay, that no tnoei of the main bodj of hia 
ahaiae were perceptible ; nor could he diacoTer his 
I, who bad, aa it appeLied in the sequel. 



been overtaken 'bf the ^onng ladj'a frievdi. Fow 
Joe; ImmedJatetr ran into « DtlghboTbig haj-lsft, 
where he hid hiin«elf| in de^Mir, for tbee ia,jt; 
and when diicoTered, he was, with great ^Jlenlij, 
persuaded b; his master, who highlj eateemed lum* 
to resume his whip and retorn to Ids saddle. 




THE FOBC£ OF CIRCUHST AKCES. 



ItTUiiieii John Jones. I dare say 70U have teen 
It in the newspapers nnder the head of " Polici:,'' 
" A gentleman t'n tnmbU,^ " lion tnoektr ttealing," 
"nMoHoilt anuuenunt" etc. Somebody has said 
tiiat all men are mad upon some subject or the 
other. Quite right, depend upon It. Uj mono- 
mania is door-knockeni, with an occasioiiBl furor 
for bell-handlet. I've a tauseum, which I shall be 
glad to show snj gentleman who will leaTe his card 
with the publisher. There he will see specimens 
arranged according to dates and localities. I shall 
bequeath toy collection to the Ironmongers' Com- 
panj, with permission to melt down anv quantity it 
ttaj be thought desirable to dciote to a bust of the 
founder of uiis vnigue exhibition. You now know 

Last winter I had a fbw fellows at my rooms. 
The sleet beating at the window bad indnced erer; 
one to make his grog as hot and strong as possible. 
The odorous tobacco-smoke wreathed itself abont 
the room, and made the argand lamp on the table 
look like the sun in a London fbg. Prank Fitch 



elderlj gentleman fVom the country. I looked at 
it, and saw "Ur. Thomas Thompson, Birkenhead!" 
Kj uncle! He to whom I was Indebted for my 
quarterly sUowance, and from whom I expected 
8,000/. a year. T don't care what your opinions 
may be npon things In general, bat jon vaut ac- 
knowledge that this was awkward. 1 
I scorn a deceit : so, emptying my glass, I went ' 
as straight M 1 could to )ny ancle. "There he stood, . 
on the little mat In the passage, dressed In the same . 
prim blue coat, and pepper>and-sa1t trousers, that I 
remembeied to have seen him In when a lump of 



I sugar was the Havana of existenee. We shook 
i bands hosrtily with each other, and I was not a 
little surprised at hla request to join the party above. 
1 was in no humor to deny him any thing, and ac- 
cordingly llr. Thomas Thompson was formally hi- 
troduced to Ur. Frank Fitch and party. 

My uncle seemed bent upon making himself sgree- 
able, and in order to do so, he begged to o&r a 
few observations on organic remains, dJluvial gravel, 
and some few other geological phenomena. In 
spite of the horror depicted in every connleDance 
at this announcement, he proceeded to recapitulate 
the absurdities of many of the exploded cosmogo- 
nies of Calcot and others, discussed Hutton's theory, 
the elements of matter Aparteanle, the destmction 
of mountains by atmospheric corroeion, and, I have 
no doubt, would have faiored us with a few chap- 
ters of Buckland had not bis auditors, one by one, 
shirked away, shrouded in their own smoke. 

When we were left together, my uncle paused, 
and producing a large pocket-book, took therefrom 
sundry slips cut fhnn newspapers duly and weekly. 
Having spread them on tne table before him, he 
politely requested my attention to the Information 
which they contained. J obeyed bim, and foimd 
that all had rcUtioQ to myself; they were all headed 
"police," and ended with — "Mr. John Jotiea was 
fined five giilllings and discharged." 

"John," sidd my uncle, "lam very angry witb 
you — so angry, that If you eontlnae in yonr preatBt 
course, I must make some alteraUon in the diiMt- 
sition of my property. These oocurrences are &■ 
gracefy." 

"Oht my dear At" I exclaimed, "it is not By 
Eknit; it U the confounded police. TheywilibeN 
offlclons." 

" It is their duty to be so," answered my tmcle. 
" Our police force is an examplar to every other 
natioa. Active and intelligent, they have produced, 



THB FOROS OF 0IBCUM8TANGB8. 



811 



I may mj^ a moral reTolation, and I honor everr 
member of it. Now, John, I will giye you an hour's 
adTice* When a joung man — ** 

But perhaps you will allow me to omit Mr. Thomas 
Thompson's maiims and opinions for young men 
studying for the bar— excellent as they are, — and 
be content with an observation which he made as 
he paused on the step of my door — ^his arm within 
my arm — ^preparatory to our departure for his inn, 
where he had asserted I should pass the night. 

** Jack, my dear boy, avoid brawls ; they degrade 
a gentleman to the level of a blackguard. During 
a somewhat riotous youth " — Mear old soul I he was 
never out of a bed after ten, m his life) — ** I never 
was in the custpdy of the watch, nor did I ever 
contribute a single crown to the reigning sovereign 
of my country as a fine for vinous excitement. I 
would not encounter such evils to be made presi- 
dent of the British Association for Scientific Pur- 
poses!'' 

As my own opinions were so diametrically opposed 
to my uncle's, I thought it becoming on my part to 
bow aild remain silent. 

We had walked about five minutes, when our at- 
tention was directed to a man and woman disputing 
in language highly objectionable to the excellent 
old gentleman who was mv companion. 

**I)ear me, Jack, that s very wrong," said my 
uncle. '* What does it mean?" 

" It means that if the lady don't go to her resi- 
dence in five minutes, the gentleman proposes to 
try the effect of physical force," replied I. 

** Good gracious 1 and he's doing it," exclaimed 
my uncle. The woman roared out most lustily ; and 
the brutal fellow was about to repeat his violence, 
when my uncle laid his hand gently on the ruffian's 
shoulder, and remarked very mildly — 

'* My good sir, you must not do that !" 

*' Why mustn't he ? he's my lawful husband, you 
old wagabone," cried the woman, ** and he's a right 
to hit me if I desarve it, and I do desarve it. Give 
him in charge. Bill— Here 1 Police 1 Police! Mur- 
der !" screamed the virago. 

Experience suggested to me the policy of ab- 
iquatilatini;. '* Run, sir," said I to Mr. Thompson. 

** Run, nr f* replied my uncle, with a look of dis- 
dain that would have insured an antique Roman a 
itatue! 

It was too late to argue, for two area gates opened 
at the moment, and a policeman rushed upon us 
from each side of the street. 

«'Now then?" said Bull's-eye 22. 

'« What IS it?" asked Bull's-eye 23. 

"That old un's been 'salting my missis, and I 
gives him in charge," said the tender husband. 

** And the t'other helped him, I suppose," inquired 
22. 

** Yes,** answered the affectionate wife. 

I waa silent. BxptrierUia docet 

"Allow me to explain," said Mr. Thompson, 
placing his fore- finger on the cuff of the policeman's 
coat. 

" Ton see this, Ilggs?" said 28, " strikmg me in 
the execution of my duty ;" and producing his staff, 
be shook it awfully in the face of my uncle. 

Mr. Thompson possessed a full bushel of virtues 
— standard measure ; nevertheless he had one fail- 
ing; be was very peppery, and the indignity now 
ottered hun shook the cayenne from him very con- 
siderably. 

"What do you mean, you scoundrel!" shouted 



my uncle, at the policeman jerked him along. " This 
is a land of freeaom-«-«ecured to the meanest sub- 
ject — in the realm — ^by Magna Charta — wrung from 
the ty— rant — John — at Run — ^ny — mede— June the 
twelfth — twelve hundred — and — ^fifteen-^when the 
barons — ^ 

My uncle had nearly completed his abridgment 
of the history of England when we reached the sta- 
tion-house. The inspector was an old acquaintance 
of mine." " Ah, Mr. John Jones," he exclaimed, 
" havn't seen you for a month — what's the charge 
— the usual, I suppose ? Drunk and disorderly?" — 
and then the two bull's-eyes proceeded to give a 
most lively and minute account of a series of vio- 
lent assaults upon themselves and the lady before 
alluded to. 

" Perjurers! rascals!" roared Mr. Thompson, ** I 
am a peaceable man — ^ 

" Very," said the inspector, continuing to write 
In the chai^e-book : " assaulting Mary Somers and 
the police." 

" A lie, sir — a base lie, sir!" 

"Thomas Thompson, drunk and disorderly," 
muttered the inspector. 

'* Drunk, sir? I never was drunk in my life !" 

" Ah, wo know all about that ; nobody never is 
drunk— eh, Mr. Jones?" said the inspector, winking 
at me. 

Mr. Thompson had now become furious, and was 
occupying the entire attention of four of the police. 

" Search him," said the inspector. 

" 111 not be searched ; no man shall search me!" 
screamed Mr. Thompson, whilst his arms were 
stretched out like the letter T ; and two more of 
the police emptied his pockets in a twinkling. I 
had hitherto been amused at my uncle's position— 
I now felt seriously anxious for him. His face waa 
the color of a peony, and his legs were in full play, 
as though he were indulging in a fit of convulsions. 
I remonstrated with the inspector, but my character 
was too well known to obtain any indulgence (be- 
yond procuring a messenger for bail), and we were 
consequently marched off to the cell, and turned in 
among some six or eight " disorderlies," to whon^ 
Mr. Thompson rendered himself particularly dis- 
agreeable by the detail of his wrongs and his vocif- 
erations through the grating in the door of the celL 
The bail at length arrived ; and having been fre- 
quently employed in the same capacity, was ac- 
cepted' without delay. The cell-door was opened, 
and our janitor called out, "John Jones's bail." 

I instantly stepped out, expecting my uncle's 
name would be the next ; but the oflQcer pausing, I 
said, "Well, there's Mr. Thompson !" 

" Incapable of taking care of himself— can't let 
him out till the morning," answered the man, turn- 
ing the key in the lock. 

My uncle's fury is indescribable. He kicked the 
door — abused the police — vowed all manner of ac- 
tions — recited the whole of Magna Charta, until he 
fell back exhauirted upon a huge coal-heaver, who 
had laid himself down to sleep on the floor of the 
cell. I remained during the night in the station- 
house. In the morning, Mr. Thompson and myself 
were placed at the bar. I saw that the magistrate 
recognized me, and judged that the fact was not 
very likely to prejudice him in our favor. The 
charge was read over, and the evidence given ; my 
uncle continually denying the assertions made, and 
being as continually compelled to be silent by the 
surly usher of the court. 



A. lUOBTiniL NAXBlTirS. 



a the 

•t tone imaginible, " twenty RtiiUinga e>ch for 
UBBult on ibe womui, three poundi each for 
iM&ult on the police, and five Bhiltingg foe being 
lickled. And," continued hie vorship, " it 
il me exceedingly to eee a gentleman of jour 



I ■ppareut reapcctsbilitj placet 
iracefuf position." 
■r. ThompMQ wat in a frenzy — talked about dy- 



e magistrate remanded Mr. Thompson for a 
!« honn, until be was euflicienlly recovered from 
lU debauch to bo discharged. Ur. Thompson was 
itea dragged from the bar, for walli he would noL 



My uncle was Tcleafed in the cchbm of the day, 
and started in the evening for Birkenhead. WhUn 
a year, the excellent old gentleman was no nenl 
Before he died, he had alUred his will, but it «aa to 
malce me his sole heir, as he stated " tliat I look 
upon my excellent nephew, John Jones, as a martjr, 
and tbe victim of thai orguiiied tyranny — the Lon- 
don Police I" 

Poor dear uncle 1 whilst I write this, a teat faUi 
upon the paper, and 

I beg your pardon, but illch has Just run in to 
say that the surgeon at the comer of ihe Street hu 
mounted a brass knocker of eitnonlinary dimen- 
«ons. — BraaB-hnockers are very scarce, and some 
lucky dog may get tlie start of me. Bob, my hat ! 



FtLii WiLiiiBS wu my first and dearest friend. 
He was Utile as a boy, and little as a man ; the 
only great tiling about him was his heart, and Ihat 
was large enough for an elepbaot. Be had but one 
Cult, and that was s desperate one — he was always 
In love. Jilting did him no good ; if one woman 
played him false, he instantly made a declanlion to 
another. Fair or dark, short or tall, fat or slim, 
were all the same to Willlei^ ; his heart was like a 
oarpet-bag — you could cram any amount of love 
Into it. I used to tell him it would be his ruin — so 
It was— that is, it will be. When he married, I cut 
him. Self-preservation fs tbe first law of nature, 
and I didn't know but matrimony w&s catching. I 
called him a fool, snd he said I was a brute. I 
never saw Felix for twenty years atlerwards. 

Last gundiy, I had the bines ; I do have tbem 
sometimes, particularly when my shirts have no 
buttons; and I found two in that slate on the day 
to which I allade. 

Whenever I'm in the blues, I always call apon a 
fHead ; if 1 dont get tid of the megrinu myself I 



A FSIGHTFITL MARKATITl. 

[) 8T MAU LINO 



give them to somebody elM; and t«a]lv l/ierr u 
some pleasure in being nmpathiied witA. Well! 
I thought I'd hunt u^ WllUen. I thought that 
twenty years were quite enough to owe a man a 
grudge, even for marrying. 

Williers lives at Higbgate, so I made the beat of 
my way there. I used to like Bighgate onoe. I 

was then nineteen, and llary gpdier was no 

matter, I don't regret It aow. Well, I found ont 
Williers'a house, and just as I was about to ring 
the bell, I saw Felix and his Ikmily turn the corner. 
rd been told that he bad " his quiver full " of chil- 
dren — that one of his sons was " as big as a giant," 
and all Ihat son of thing, but I never thought that 
poor Williers was so be-offspringed as I found him. 

I shall not describe our meeting; he seemed to 
forget that any thing had ever occurred, and I'm 
sure I never made a heartier dinner than I did at 
his Ubte. 

There's Felix and hli funOy— and yet he declares 
that he's happy. 




HOBBIBLS DELDBIONB. 



Aftor k gbH or two of port, ws wdked lota the I " done tlie lUte come nrrlce," boldly threir open 
nrden, and then back mto the houM. At 1 pused | the door, uid lequeited me to follow him. Delibe- 



h the ftir of 4 m«ii who feeli that be httb 



mtely — Bmilingly — did poor Willie™ place io 
the objecle which hod excited mf borrot. 
did no. he »idd cmphaticallj — 
" Those shoes «i 




HORRIBLE DELUSIONS. 



Etbbt one who hui TiMted Brighton musl know 
Tramper Temce. It \m ooe of the mont quiet local- 
hies of the towD, and is euilj recogi^zed by the 
freen Terandiihs over the diciDg-room windows, 
Ud by the brillisnt brass knobs which ornsment 
U)e centre of the modest green doors. The smsll 
pnrdeiiB in front sra sstronomicnlly Isid out in full- 
XloonB, hsif-moons, snd stars, with nest graielly 
>*jB between theto. Daring the nesson the housen 
K«« let ont to eBdErantB from the tcetropdis, at 
liroportionablj moderate rents, coniuderia^; that 
«Bch proprietor keeps s full-bui toned page for the 
ttne of the lodgers, who are always persona of Ihe 
liighpst respectability, and without " incumbrance e" 
«a children are appropriately designated. 

If you haTi half an hour to spare, let me intro- 
duce you to Hrs. Abbott, of 48, Trumper Terrace. 
Tthie is Mrs. Abbott, and a lady of the Gamp school 
«if oFHtory, full-bloWD as a peony, and nearly as red. 
Fifty-two, are you not, Mrs. Abbott F No— only 
forty-seren, bnt parish registers are inTsrisbly 
wrong. I believe you are a widow, and have kept 
K lodging-house two-end-twenty years? You have 
done nrelly weU at the business? Pretty well. I 
thought so. Ton would rather not say how you 
realized your profits^ Very well, we hare no par- 
ticular object iu inquiring. You have s. daughter ? 
Harried? Recently, I believe ? Would you oblige 
tu with a history of her courtship, or at least so 
■nQch aa relates to Hr. Bosberry, your son-in-law's 
horrible delnrioni? 1 knew you would. We dr> 
wish it, upon mj honor. I don't mind ^tUiig iu a 



draught, and would rather not take a glass of 
ginger-wine before dinaet. Hemi Hra. Abbott 

" It's two years ago come Tuesday, that 1 wai 
sitting where you nisy be now, turning a brown 
bolland sofa cover, for which thej charge nxteen 
pence to wonb, whereas only one side was dirty, and 
I thought I would hsTG the benefit of the one which 
was not, when Bloamfieli!, our page as was then,. 
but who is now grown into Lord Lobsky's family, 
anr! wears a sky-blue livery, and his hair in powder, 
perhaps you know 'em? Hem I I thought yoa 
might. Well, an I was uying, BloomSetd announ- 
ces a gentleman to look at the apartments. I rolled 
up the sofa cover, and telling him to show the gen- 
tleman into the neit room, put it into the ehiffo- 
niire, the very one at your back, sir, and went to 
the person so nnnouDced, and found a very mild, 
gentlemanly young man, attired in deep mourning, 
about ihrev-and-twcnty, itith a small riding-whip In 
his hand, and light auburn hur rather inclined to 
be carroty." 

" ' Mra. Abbott,' aajB he. 

"'Tou'vo apartments to Ictf 

" 'Yes, sir,' says I. 'Two pun' ten a-week, wash- 
ing eitia, including boot-cleuning and sltendance, 
without firing, and the use of the piano.' 

" ' My name is Ur. Bosberry,' says he, ' and I en- 
gage your apartments on those terms, having Jual 
lost a distant relation, and shall take possession to- 
morrow, having received a legacy of considerable 



814 



HORRIBLB DKLUSIONS. 



amount ; and when my man brings my luggage, he 
kind enough to let a fire be lighted in both rooms.* 

'*'Sir, it shall be done/ says I, *but without a 
reference or a deposit, I shouldnH like, as it is 
usual — ^ 

"*I beg pardon,' said he, 'for forgetting it. 
There^s a five-pound note, with my name and ad- 
dress on that card, which though it^s a country 
note, is as good as the Bank of England, and any 
body knows me in Coleman-street, London.' '* 

And Mr. Bosberry took your apartments, I be- 
lieve, Mrs. Abbott, and continued to occupy them 
for many months, during which time he formed an 
attiachment for your daughter Julia, proposed for 
her, was accepted, and had arranged every thing 
for the joyftil occasion, when the circumstances oc- 
curred which you will now relate to us. Tou were 
about to say Uiat Mr. Bosberry was of rather a jeal- 
ous temperament, and that on the twelflh day pre- 
ceding the wedding, he called you into the room and 
said — Pray go on, Mrs. Abbott. 

***Mrs. Abbott,^ says he, *I shall be married in 
London.* 

'* ^ In London I* I shrieks ; and down I set on that 
ottoman where Mary has left the dust-^Ui and a 
bundle of fire-wood, which you will excuse. 

" * Yes, ma*am,* says Mr. Bosberry, * for Miss Ab- 
bott seems lately, ma'am, to be holding a daily levee 
and drawing-room of aU the male population of 
Brighton.' 

** * Sir,' says I, of course feeling naturally all my 
maternal dignity rising in my throat, and choking 
my utterance, so that I could not speak without 
coughing, * Julia is above suspicion, and has re- 
ceived from her cradle, as well as five years' board 
and tuition under Mrs. Roscommon's finishing acade- 
my, an education above the ordinary, and which 
would render her incapable of such conduct as you 
attribute to that unoffending ^rl,' who that instant 
entered the room, and took a seat accordingly. 
But I fear Fm boring you and your friend, and as 
the washerwoman has just drove up to the door in 
her cart, and Fve not made out the book, perhaps 
youll tell him the rest and allow me to wish you 
good morning." 

Good morning, Mrs. Abbott. 

So if you'll stroll with me to the pier, I will con- 
tinue this disjointed narrative. 

Bosberry was resolute; he vowed they should 
leave Brighton on the morrow, or he would do 
something desperate. The ladies were fain to suc- 
cumb, and Mrs. Abbott, with an eye to business, 
stuck up in the window a bill of ** Apartments to 
let," within an hour of the foregoing conversation. 

'* Bloomfield," exclaimed Bosberry, **say Miss 
Abbott is out ; say I am out to every body that 
calls to-day." 

Rat-tat-tat, went the knocker instantly, as though 
to test the page's fidelity. 

" Out, sir, fOl on 'em out, sir," said Bloomfield, hi 
ft very loud voice. 

" Indeed I Tell Mr. Bosberry that Mr. Jackson 
called," said the visitor, and bang went the door. 

*' Jackson! I lent him ten pounds yesterday, 
and he's called to pay me. Here I Hi I Jackson, 
old boy," cried Bosberry, from the Verandah. ** At 
home to you, of course. Here, come in at the win- 
dow ; give me your hand ; up you are ! " and Mr. 
Jackson was handed in accordingly. 

He had called to discharge his obligation ; there 
was the note. Bfosberry went into an inner room 



to phMse the money in his desk, and judge of hii 
horror when, reflected in the mirror, he saw Jack* 
son whispering to Julia, Julia smiline on Jackson, 
and both affectionately pressing the nands of each 
other. In a state of mind ** more easUv imagined 
than described," be returned into the front room, 
and, with a smile as ghastly as a gorgon's, requested 
Jackson to take some wine. 

" No wine, thank you," said Jackson, " but if mj 
dear young friend would favor me with a cup of 
coffee, I should be greatly obliged." 

" Viper ! " thought Bosberry ; " but I won't be 
done ; he shall not stop here.--Jack6on," said he, 
tatto voce, *' I have a most particular appointment 
with Captain Hamstringer, and Julia detests him so 
much, that I know not how to get away. It is 
already five minutes past the hour. Can you take 
me out ? " 

" ni do it," said Jackson, winking violently it 
Bosberry, and then continuing, in a loud voice, "By 
the bye, I have just parted Irom old Bonus, cor 
director ; he told me he wished to sec you immedi- 
ately; I quite forgot to name it before. Tonll 
find him at The Ship. Now, make no stranger of 
me," continued Jackson, in answer to Bosberry*! 
negative gesticulations ; ** go, I insist upon it," and 
half by force, half by persuasion, the unhappy man 
was compelled to leave the house in possession of 
the enemy. 

Jackson remained in earnest conversation with 
Julia for something more than an hour, when, again 
pressing her hand to his lips, he took his departure. 
How happy that conversation had made Jufia I 

Jackson had just left the house, when a wrt of a 
gentleman applied to see the apartments. The ap* 
plicant was very showily dressed, and might have 
served as the embodiment of one of those poetical 
advertisements (the tailor very properly invoking 
the nine) of Schneider art which daily tempt the 
unwary. A naval cap, anchored and laced, was 
placed jauntily on one side of his head, and con* 
trasted somewhat oddly with the brass spurs which 
adorned the heels of his boots. Bloomfield, who 
always acted as groom of the chamber (until the 
appearance of a nibble, when his mistress was o^ 
dered to be summoned), was delighted with him. 
He thought him a "perfect gent," and as such 
looked forward to much fun and many stray six- 
pences. The stranger seemed particularly pleased 
with all the arrangements, especially admiring the 
weight of the forks and spoons, which Bloomfield 
assured him **was real silver, and none of your 
'lectrifying, which took all the steam out of a boy 
to make 'em look decent." Mr. Bosberry's gold 
watch on the mantel-piece was also honored with 
the stranger's warmest commendations ; and Bloom* 
field had the interest of the establishment too much 
at heart to inform the gentleman that the watch did 
not go with the lodgings. 

" Let me see your missis," said the stranger ; ^if 
we can hagree about terms, I thmk the hapartmenti 
will do." 

Bloomfield rushed fVom the room, delijp;hted. 

The stranger was evidently a genius, for the mo- 
ment the boy had gone, he performed three rapid 
acts of eccentricity. He twisted the bdt from the 
French window ; he drained Mr. Bosberry's decan- 
ter, which stood upon the table, and appropriated 
that gentleman's beet hat, which by chance was on 
the sideboard! He also looked wistfhDy at the 
watch, the spoons, and the forks, and shrugging his 



HOBBIBLB DELTT8IOK8. 



815 



iMnilden muttered, *' No, not now — them lodging- 
UHue keepers have hejee like 'awkfl.** « 

Mrs. Abbott requested the stranger^s presence in 
he puior, where all matters of business must have 
wen speedily arranged, as very shortly after the 
leoentno ^ntleman was seen walking on the I^er, 
kod observed to borrow the contents of an old gen- 
leman^B pocket — the said old gentleman being at 
he time up to his eyes in the parliamentary debate 
m. the Com Laws. 

But where was Bosberry? Flitting round and 
ibont Trumper Terrace like a perturbed spirit. He 
lad watched Jackson leave the house; he had 
loted every minute of his stay ; he had seen the 
icoentric gentleman enter the once happy No. 48 ; 
ud seen him in the parlor, and of course had 
)laced him to the account of the faithless Julia. 
3at he had not seen pretty little Julia Johnson 
Hiss Abbott^s cousin and namesake) at the door, 
ind heard her give the faintest rat-a-tat imagin- 
ible. 

" Oh, Julia 1 ^ exclaimed Julia Johnson, as she 
rushed into the arms of Julia Abbott, "Jackson 
!iss told you all ; I have just received his note — 
liere it is ; and he assures me his father has con- 
tented to our being married in a month, and that 
fohn would meet me here at nine o'clock — and 
(here he is — Fm sure that's his knock.'' 

It was Jackson, sure enough. Bosberry saw 
kfan! One hour, ten minutes, and thirty-nine sec- 
Mids did Bosberry watch for his departure, but in 
rsiiL At the fortieth second he — but we must not 
laticipate events. 

"We can never thank you enough, dear- Julia," 
nid Jackson, again pressing Miss Abbott's hands to 
tds lips ; *' but for you how few would have been 
ror meetings ; but now all will be well ; in a month 
ihe wQl be mine, never to be separated f^om me 
trat by death I Oh, Julia I— etc., etc., etc." 

*' There, see him to the door, do," said Miss Ab- 
bott; **of course you have something to say to 
Midi other ; but, dearest, wrap my shawl over your 
besd, there*s a dreadful draught in our passage — 
Hr. Bosberry nearly caught his death there before 
ve were quite eneaged." And the considerate girl 
boonded up to the second floor like a — ^like a — 
bird. 

Miss Abbott was rieht; Jackson and his Julia 
had much to say on their way to the street-door : 
ind it was during their ** happy converse" that 
Bosberry's patience exhausted itself. 

** By jingo t I will know the worst I " he ex- 
dtimed ; *' she^s a flirt — a coquette : I will listen 
It the keyhole — any thing to bring detection home 
to her. Ah I the balcony ! " And stealthily as a 
oat he cUmbered into the dining-room. 

AH was still ; the last streak of sunlight was fad- 
iiiff in the horizon. Bosberry could not discern the 
obiects in the room : he lighted a taper. The first 
thmg which struck him was the exhausted decanter. 
Fhe next object which caught his attention was the 
Mscentric gentleman's abandoned cap. Bosberry 
ihook with rage and agony. 

'* Another admirer ! Oh, Jul — ^ and the word 
itnck as last in his throat as a fish-bone ; for at that 
Boment be heard voices at the street-door. What 
iras that ? — a kiss t He crept to the window, and 
there he saw the perfidious Jackson again attempt 
lo embrace a figure enveloped in a shawl ! Ah ! he 
knew that shawl too well — the gaslight showed him 
the pattern; a pale blue pine-apple on a white 



ffround I He gave it to Julia on her last birth-day. 
He staggered almost insensible fh>m the window, 
and buried his fiice in the sofa pillow. 

Miss Abbott called " Bloomfieldt ** 

"Hark! that's her voice I " 

"Take this letter to the Bedford Hotel, and if 
the ^ntleman is within, wait for an answer." 

"What gentleman ouffht she to know at the Bed- 
ford ? " mentally ejaculated the distracted Bosberry. 
" What's this ? My writing case I Yes, and here, 
on the blotUng-paper, is " (and he held the tell-tale 
sheet before the candle) " T-h-o-s. B-1-a-c-k, E-s-q., 
B-e-d-f — ," and he read no more. 

"Some one must be sacrificed," he exclaimed, 
hastily producing a brace of pistols, and proceeding 
to load them; "there must be a wretch in the 
house now — ^if he's — not too big, I will immolate him 
on the altar of — . Zounds t I've rammed a nut into 
the pistol instead of a bullet — no matter — and now 
there's the taper gone out — but revenge is sweet. 
Why did I love her — why ? " and throwmg himself 
on the sofa, he continued, for upwards of an hour, 
to upbraid himself vainly and incoherently, until he 
was aroused by a noise at the window. 

" What's that ? A man hi the balcony? " 

Yes, it was the eccentric gentleman returned no 
doubt (as he assured Bosberry) with a bull's-eye 
lantern to look for the cap he had so strangely left 
behind him. 

Bosberry's calmness was getting awful. 

" Sir," said he, " this subterfuge shall not save 
you — this sort of thing is getting unbearable — I 
must take some decisive steps — your card, sir." 

The eccentric gentleman seemed puzzled by thb 
request ; but, afler a moment's hesitation, produced 
a card-case, and handed the required pasteboard to 
Bosbernr, who read aloud firmly and distinctly the 
n