^eno- ConttcO' Ca n ino-
Polyglottos,
THE LIBRARY
OF
THE UNIVERSITY
OF CALIFORNIA
LOS ANGELES
SEmO-COMlCO-(CANINO)-
/ / PO^pLOTTOS.
U
N © L D W Y
K E H A M I S T.
b mg Xiiz,
WITH CHANGELESS LOVE.
i- 5-
8S5S68
a Vinstar of the la.te t. hood.
" Evening has come, and from the dark park, hark !
The signal of the setting sun, one gun," &c.
BY A HUSBAND,
(hi reading certain Trials in the Divorce Court.
Oh ! plan more vile than man can scan !
Oh ! case our Isle's base race to chase !
What ! soil and spoil God's holy oil —
To her God gave as to slave behave —
Cause her to rue "who 's true to you,
And, for return, be stern or spurn.
What ! dare thy share unfairly spare,
And take by stealth lier wealth and health I
Be it rather mine to pine, decline.
Fall away prey to gray decay,
Than word, or thought of aught ill sort
Allow ; do Thou lxea.r now my vow : —
I'll love my wife through life's rife strife,
Protect, respect, each wish eiFect :
Alone my own ! bone of my bone !
I'll place my bonheur on her honour —
An oath's an oath, it bound us both ;
And basely lie, tie ! why should I,
Who did not at the altar falter 1
But there indeed agreed at need
In any field a shield to wield,
And aye proclaim her name and fame !
% Mdmm io princess l^lnaniira.
BY THE POET LAUREATE.
Sea-king's daughter from over the sea,
Alexandra !
Saxon and Norman and Dane are we,
But all of us Danes in our welcome of thee,
Alexandra !
Welcome her, thunders of fort and of fleet !
Welcome her, thundering cheer of the street !
Welcome her, all things youthful and sweet !
Scatter the blossom under her feet !
Break, happy land, into earher flowers !
Make music, bird, in the new-budded bowers !
Welcome her, welcome her, all that is ovirs !
Warble, bugle, and trumpet, blare !
Flags, flutter out upon turrets and towers !
Flames, on the windy headland flare !
Utter your jubilee, steeple and spire !
Clash, ye bells, in the merry March air !
Flash, ye cities, in rivers of fire !
Welcome her, welcome the land's desire,
Alexandra !
Sea-king's daughter as hajipy as fair,
Blissful bride of a blissful heir.
Bride of the heir of the kings of the sea,
joy to the people and joy to the throne,
Come to us, love us, and make us your own :
For Saxon, or Dane, or Norman we.
Teuton or Celt, or whatever we be.
We are each all Dane in our welcome of thee,
Alexandra !
% Mlcltomc io ^inbir.
(IX HUJIBLE IMITATION.)
True gentleman's daughter, and gentle as he,
Bonnie Linda !
Brothers and Sister and Parents are we.
But all of us lovers in fondness of thee,
Bonnie Linda !
Welcome her, aged ones, ye who judge right !
Welcome her, j'outhful ones, gladsome and light !
Welcome her, all things cheerful and bright !
Acknowledge her, friends, as your joy and delight !
Hake music, oh bands, for her waltz and quadrille !
In bumpers, ye partners, your gay glasses till !
Welcome her, chapel, church, concert, and ball !
Fine hotel, country cottage, hired lodging, grand hall !
High and low, rich and jjoor folk, welcome her all !
Utter your jubilee, ye who admire
Good nature, soft graces ! and ye who aspire
By example of her to ^^^tues higher !
Welcome her, welcome our heart's desire,
Bonnie Linda !
Gentleman's daughter, and happy as fair,
In spirit as free as bird of the air ;
Choice of the choicest, and best that can be,
Oh, joy in om- trouble, and joy in our rest,
Come to us, love us, thou whom we love best !
For Parent, or Sister, or Brother we,
Guardian or friend, whatever we be.
We are each all love in our welcome of thee,
Bonnie Linda !
Christmas, 1862-63.
Mclcomc ! (BIbabetb !
Dear duteous Daughter, justly-cherished Wife,
Sweet Sister, faithful friend, Elizabeth !
Hear me, and heed : — Thy God hath gifted thee
Rarely ; thou art a blessing and art blest :
Thy maidenhood with virtues was so mai-ked
That it hath left its memory ever green.
Full early wedded, thou did'st pass the seas,
And we, who lost thee, learned day after day
More, and yet more, to feel how vast our loss.
The ships that bore the news of thy new life
Were freighted preciously ; they brought us home
Precious example, precious thoughts ; they
brought
The story of a young wife's days well spent.
But not enough to be a fond good Wife,
11
A careful mistress in thine Eastern liome,
A tbonglitful hostess and a graceful gnest,
A Mother to thy Brothei-, (sore in need
Of mother's counsels lovingly addi-essed), —
'Twas not enough. "We heard from such an one, —
Some school-mate here, — from such another,
there, —
Some aged lady of scant joys of life, —
How that om- dear one, our Elizabeth,
Maintaining firm her hold on worthy hearts,
Had sent some ofiering, some befitting toy.
Some foreign fruits, or work of Eastern art.
Or, better still, some solace or advice,
So simply apt, so manifestly wise.
That each one told all boastful of her prize, —
'Twas not enough : I know not whence it came —
The rumour, but it came, — the fair report
Of acts far nobler ; our Elizabeth—
Our own — ah ! with what emphasis our own ! —
12
Had found forsooth, the means to take a lead
In spreading Gospel truths, in teaching those
Whose darkness was most dark the source, and
■^i
spring.
And cause of her own "vdrtues ; — patiently,
AVithout pretence, merely with loving words
And tenderness, had drawn young girls apart,
And won their simple all-unlettered minds ;
Then, lo ! a school, a voluntary school,
Chinese, Malay — she first acquired their tongue —
Came flocking readily, well pleased to hear
The gentle English lady speak of — Christ.
Daughter, 'tis not enough : — thou art restored,
Thanks be to God, unto thy kith and kin ;
And none will bate one jot of their dear claim
Upon the love of such an one as thou : —
Thy Husband first — whom God together joined.
Each to the other owes first fealty ; —
I next — I next — 'tis I myself stand next,
13
Tliy Father ; come to me ! — Be tlioii more blest
Each year, and day, and hour : be thou to me,
To us, to all, a great good gift, whose price
May not be told for veiy excellence.
Thy Mission — thy new Mission claims thee now ;
Accept, fulfil : oh ! wherefore should she doubt.
Or fear, or fail, who first appeals to Him,
Th' Omnipotent, and seeks the right alone 1
The prayerless do thou enjoin to pray ;
Lift up thy voice, insist ; for here, my Child,
Thy Father's self is touched, whose scant appeals,
Cheap, issue of a mind undisciplined.
Savouring more of protest and complaint
Than of submission to his Maker's will
Need guidance : — younger far, yet more mature,
Do thou to him teach veritable prayer ;
For well he knows — and fears— it may not be
That aught but evil now and aye shall fall
On such as live omitting prayer to God.
u
Stand Cliampion for all Principle and Riglit,
Which to offend leads hopelessly astray ;
Praise gracious words and mutual courtesy,
Fox'bearance unto such as might command,
Respect for age ; praise filial piety ;
Bid to forgive ; teach to extend the hand ;
Heal moral wounds, " make the rough places
plain ;"
And in Christ's name declare to one and all,
That Love, pure Love, no lesser boon than Love,
Is what Christ gave ; that He requii'es no less ; —
The primest virtue and its own reward.
Paris, 1st December, 1S64.
Co pbidppa,
MARQUISE DE PRONLEROY, CHATELAIXE OF ROQUE-
BELLE (aVEYROX).
Where tlie sun gilds Aveyron's hills,
Where babbling Tarn exerts a soothing spell,
Passes her days, her works their praise,
The peaceful Dame, Philippa de Roquebelle.
As shines the sun on Aveyron,
As Tarn's fair stream doth glad the parching tield.
So doth her bright example light
My sombre mood, and fresh'ning comfort yield.
When first wei'e seen her step, her mien,
Which flippant speech and boisterous miith
forbad,
My curious thought this riddle wrought —
" Why is the Dame no sadder since so sad ?"
IG
Musing this wliilp, a graceful smile
I noted, gladdening all her features, play ; —
Still did my mind a riddle find —
"How can black night enwrap such heavenly
day r
But ere the sun on Aveyron
Ten times had shone, Tarn murmured in my
ear —
" Thou who art tried as few beside,
" What ! canst not thou the poor enigma clear?"
"The Dame knows grief: ah ! scant relief
" To blighted hope can mortal man extend ;
" Her heart was sad, her look forbad
"Thy ill-timed mirth, though meant her grief
to fend."
" In sweet content her days are spent,
" In deeds more comely than her comely face ;
" Thence was the smile thou saw'st the while " —
Lord, I Thy hand, Thy dreaded hand, yet hand
of mercy, trace.
Jfkgenbc hhiitx,
(from the PINCIAJJ, ROME.)
Le Pape est tout,
Le Roi fait tout,
Le Ministre sert tous les 2,
Le Soldat garde tous les 3,
Le Pays travaille pour tous les 4,
Le Cure vit parmi tous les 5,
Le Yoleur vole tous les 6,
Le Medecin tue tous les 7,
L'Eveque absoxit tous les 8,
Le Croque-mort enterre tous les 9,
Et le Diable emporte tous les 10.
B
Bomiio.
(from the stall of a perambulating pancake-
seller AT ROME.)
Cerere, Dea della Sicania vasta,
Mi die con grano buouissima farina ;
L'acqua con ciu si lavorb tal pasta
Zampilla dalla nipe Caballina ;
La Dea ch' ha Felmo in testa, in mano I'asta,
L'oglio dalle olive sue mi destina.
Vulcan che con i Ciclopi contrasta,
Fuoco mi diS della sua fucina.
Ercole mi presto forza e vigore.
Inge»no ed arte mi dettb maniera
Per superare ogni altro Friggitore.
Giove il Tonante, Die che in etra impera,
M'a Mercurio spedito Ambasciatore
Che vub le mie Frittelle innanzi sera.
19
TRANSLATION.
Ceres, of vast Sicania goddess blest,
Gives me her corn and flour, the very best ;
The water unto which my pastry owes
Its flavoiu" from rock Cabalina flows ;
She who on head wears helm, in hand wears dart,
Of her own olives destines me a paii:,
My oil to make. Vulcan, the strong and bold —
The same who 'gainst the Cyclops fought of old,
His forge's fire doth at my service hold.
Strength lendeth Hercules, and vigour too ;
Talent and knack wherewith my work to do.
The maimer teacheth, difficult and hard,
How to sui'pass all rival fryers of lard.
And lo ! the Thunderer himself, great Jove,
He who, we know, alone doth rule above —
Mercury on special embassy hath sent.
Announcing his (great Jove's) respect for Lent!
And how that he, of fritters from my tin,
Great store must have ei'e that this night set in.
ox DEAN swift's "OLD LATIN POET."
Tonis ad resto mare
sive
To 6a\d(T(Tri5.
O MARE seva si formse,
Formse ure tonitru,
lambicum as amandum,
Olet Hymen promptii.
Ah me ! piano more meretrix.
Mi ardor vel nno ;
Inferiam ure artis falce
Tolerat me, lu-ebo.
A veri vafer lieri si
Mihi resolves indue ;
Totius olet Hymen cum
Accepta tonitru.
21
Heu seel heu vix in imago,
Mi missis mare sta ;
Milii mi editi,s a sto,
Hibernas arida.
Mihi is vetas arme se,
As humano erebi ;
Olet mecum marito te,
Or eta beta pi.
Alas vse ara scilicet,
Toto Di Admen thus !
Hiatu as arandum sex
lUuc lonicus.
Psalma sit quietas arat,
Vi thyrsis ausant apes
Flos cibe falsas a necat ;
Thalias aranda pes.
Singulis e veris age, an sol
Eva i vasa nam ; —
Stili fer cauti vas Ino,
Idoneus Adam.
^Hcrpta n\ ncscio qim, Comico.
(pootayter VOnglay Cloarryvarry.)
L'ONGLAY A PARRY.
Ung mattang, j'etty dong Paree,
Ay trister, je regardy
Le pux'ple kee se promenay
Le long dew Bullyvardy.
Je fumy ay je ravy, may
Pai-too I'onwee se trouvy ;
Avec une petty tube de pyle
De tongs ong tong je buvy.
Assee devong le cafFy, dong,
Je buvy ay je fumy,
Ay j'admiray le joly mond,
Les elegong costumy,
Tongto day fam de tute espayce
Ong tray grand varietty —
Des actreece, ay day fam dew mond,
Day bonn, ay day grisetty :
24
Kelks etty June, kelks etty viell,
Ay kelks, nee I'ung nee I'oty ;
Tutes avvy Fail' contong d'ellmaym-
Ay le reste avvy tute la beautay.
Epwee Messiew les Etudiong,
Tray sal, ay tray mal painyay,
Ay kee sortay de n'amport oo,
(Excepty de se bainyay).
Tongtote oon belle voiture, epwee
Una villang viel fiark, ay
Xing Mossoo, faisong sauty song
Cheval, poor ayt remarkay.
Epwee, pai-too des militairs !
tempora ! mory / . . . .
Kelks etty view, kelks etty jiine,
May tntes etay decory.
Ongfang le Pranks Ampayrial,
Song pair, ay tute sa sweeter,
Assee sewer vine bong petty cheval
Kee n'ally par tro veeter.
25
Ay sudaiig, s'ofFrit h, may ziew,
Croisong de I'oter coty,
Xing pail", vine mair, une belle June feel,
De may compatrioty.
La mair avay day blongs clievew,
La feel day chevew dory ;
Le pair n'ong avvy pardertoo,
Ay parissay se bory.
Le pair portay song pairaplwee,
La mair say jewpongs porty :
La feel ne porty reangdertoo
Elle avait ung escorty.
Car, plang d'amoor, a coty d'elle
Etait ung tray distangy. . . .
O, bang it ! what's the French for " swell 1 "
And what's the rhyme for " angy ]"
Elle sombly bowkoo aymay Iwee ;
II parissay s'adory !
foriunatos nimiuTn
Si sua bona ndri{\\i) !
26
Hay biang, cette coople amoroo,
Ke tute le moncl regardy,
Etay plew bel ke tute le mond
Sewer tute la Bullyvai-dy.
Ay cette viell mail', ay cet view pair
Etay plew respectarble
Ke presker tute les abitongs
De cette grond veal dew diarble.
Alors, je pongsay a la feel
Ay bowkoo je regvetty
Ke javvy laissy dairyair mwaw
Portong le nong de Betty.
Avi souvenir de ma sheree,
May pulsationg se liaty ;
L'amoor saccray de la patree
Causay mong cure de batty.
Appelay veeter le garsong,
Ay dear : " Combiang 9a couty 1 "
Ay donny doo soo poor Iweemaym
C'est I'affaire d'une minuty.
27
Payay la note exorbitong
A riiomme oo je demuray —
Pronder le Shmang-de-fair-dew-Nord —
Cest I'affaii'e d'ting card'ury.
Aprays oon tray grossiay passarge
Ay txite malard ke j'etty,
Je coiiry met mong pover cure
Aux pover piay de Betty.
" Oil Aixllyvoosayter mong chair fam ?
Oh vullyvoosayt 1 repondy !"....
Ay sa repouse affirmateeve,
Cest I'affaire d'une secondy !
Car Betty, c'etty une see bonne feel !
La meillewer feel dew monder !
Ay Betty serrar la plew belle pham
De Bloomsbury, a Londer !
^0 |?onb oners.
You'll be happy to know, Sir, how we
Pass our time at St. Leonard' s-on-Sea ;
(The place which I write on
Is not yet big as Brighton,
But it holds out fair promise to he).
Don't abuse it, that wouldn't be right of you ;
You may go there (like me) p'raps in spite of
you.
Well, Pevensey Bay
Is just over the way.
Or a trifle perhaps to the right of you.
There's Hastings close by on the left
(Of pier and of harbour bereft),
Which holds out as a treat
A spot called " Lover's Seat,"
A small hole in a rock called a cleft.
30
Here there's uothing to do wortli the mention,
To be jolly howe'er your intention ;
One bathes about seven,
Breakfast, eight to eleven —
(To kill time an ingenious invention).
Then, as for the rest of the morning,
Say two hours for one's person adorning,
Then comes early dinner.
Then — as I am a sinner —
A general gaping and yawning.
Some one votes a drive over to Battle,
But you've lost all your usual rattle ;
Though a " man about town,"
You find yourself grown
A retailer of small tittle-tattle.
Or you hire a tall bony hack,
More of stumbling than of going he's the knack,
And, in fact, the whole measure
Of this sort of pleasure
Is the pleasure to find yourself back.
31
A (bad) hack, a (bad) trap, a (bad) stable ;
There's likewise a (bad) billiard-table ;
If they chance to be biting
You -may catch one whiting,
(Pray enjoy him as much as you're able).
Lastly, on the wet sands you may paddle,
Or talk scandal, or bosh fiddle-faddle ;
But between you and me,
From St. Leonard's-on-Sea
I am longing to make a " skedaddled
IJost pranbium tibilc.
Kxow ye the land where the iced-punch and
turtle
Are served up in plenty, 'niid shouting and
cheers 1
Where each alderman's heart 'neath a snoAvy
dress shirt '11
Beat faster and truer as green fat appears ?
Know ye the land of the hock and port wine,
Where the former's delicious, the latter divine 1
Where the bright calipash is delightful to see,
And the sheriffs take twice of the rich calipee?
Where the thirst-goading olive is choicest of
fruit,
And the voice of the toast-master never is mute I
Where the glare of the gas and the fumes of the
feast
Exclude the cold blast of the wind from the
East?
c
34
Where one gorges ad lib. and drinks far too much
wine,
And all, save the headache next morn, is divine 1
'Tis the Hall of the Guild and of civic orations,
Of eating and drinking and large corporations.
O rare as the IVs of Alderman E. ,
Are the spreads our first-magistrate yearly
bestows.
Let the cynic be sarcastic
On the dance, and call it slow,
Ridicule the light fantastic —
Ridicule the light fantastic —
— cule the light fantastic toe.
Let them sneer at its gyration,
Frown it down with scornful brow ;
I'll proclaim its \'indication —
I'll proclaim its "vindication —
— claim its \dndication now !
Who could disentangle flxults from
Such a chai-ming social joust,
As the fascinating waltz from —
As the fascinating waltz from —
— fascinating waltz from " Faust ]"
36
Then the intervening singing
By the maiden, whom a stout,
Gratified mamma is bringing —
Gratified mamma is bringing —
— ficd mamma is bringing out.
Though it's certain, to the letter,
That at concerts which you'd shun,
It's unquestionably better —
It's unquestionably better —
— questionably better done.
Then the man at the pianner,
Which he treats with foulest scorn.
As if he were to the manner —
As if he were to the manner —
— he were to the manner born.
But the supper ! What a flock o'
People these fine cates to share !
Pity all should be a " mocke —
Sad that all should be a " mocke—
— ry, delusion, and a snare !"
37
Thougli lie finds the sweets are musty,
When the eater o'er them prowls,
Though he is not fond of dusty —
Though he is not fond of dusty —
— is not fond of dusty fowls.
Though blanc-mange a dirty yellow 's,
Though you hate, when bottles pass,
To drink from another fellow's —
To drink from another fellow's —
— from another fellow's glass.
What, though, when you seek for some ice,
You discover it has flown 1
Though the tipsy cake be pumice —
Though the tipsy cake be pumice —
— tipsy cake be pumice-stone 1
When you e'er sit dawn to such a
Feast, confine yourself to bread.
It's a contract at so much a —
It's a contract at so much a —
— contract at so much a head.
38
Tliough sarcastic cjoiics may shun
All such things, and call 'em slow,
I've proclaimed their vindication —
I've proclaimed their vindication —
— claimed their vindication now !
********
These few verses seem to me a
Failure on re-reading them ;
But rememher it is three A —
But remember it is three A —
— member it is three A.M. !
"^nbnxixan is hdhx t^ait Citrc.
BY M. F. TOPER.
Ehel'siatics are temble things,
With their sharp-sliooting pains and their
twinges ;
One wishes one's joints were on springs,
Instead of such badly-oiled hinges.
Yes, rheumatics are terrible, so
Such pains it were best to forego,
And prevention is better than cure,
I'm sure,
Prevention is better than cure !
So a glass of hot whiskey and water.
To the warnings of prudence attentive,
I frequently take as a sort o' —
A kind of a sort of preventive !
Influenza's a terrible bore,
The brain it sufficient to craze is ;
One's head and eyes ache till they're sore,
And one's skin with a fever-heat blazes.
40
Influenza, — well, really, you know,
Is a pain it were best to forego.
And prevention is better than cure,
I'm sure,
Prevention is better than cure.
So some grog, with the best of Jamaica —
I brew with a memory retentive
Of the proverb that warns you to take a —
Just something — by way of preventive.
The cholera's something to dread,
Most fatal and fell of diseases ;
So rapid it is in its spread,
It seems borne on the wings of the bi'eezes.
Yes, cholera — name full of woe —
Is something one oucrht to forego.
And i^revention is better than cure,
I'm sure,
Prevention is better than cure !
So a glass of the best cognac brandy —
The proverb is still my incentive —
I find it peculiarly handy
To take just by way of preventive !
A stomach-ache's not very nice.
And you don't like a touch of the colic ;
41
But we're told by tlie best of advice,
That tlieir very best cure's alcoholic.
Yes, anguish that makes one cry " oh !"
Is something 'twere best to forego,
And prevention is better than cure,
I'm sure,
Prevention is better than cure !
So a nip of the purest Geneva—
I'm not of my health inattentive —
I take, as you clearly perceive, a
Slight something, by way of preventive.
When the evils of life, like a cloud.
Come gathering thicker and thicker.
The darkness, by all 'tis allowed.
Is the best dissipated by liquor.
Well, surely grief, sadness, and woe.
Are things we would gladly forego.
And prevention is better than cure,
I'm sure,
Prevention is better than cure !
So I — always considering what '11
Best show I'm to wisdom attentive —
Am unwav'ringly true to my bottle ;
But only hy way of preventive !
ESSAYS
ON UNUSUAL SUBJECTS.
(Sfter "eiian
|introi)udi0it.
Those black mocking-birds in the Crystal Palace
were strange animals.
One day I watched them when they coughed?
imitating an old poitrinaire ; sneezed — a hearty,
healthy sneeze ;— laughed, now the laugh of a
girl, now of a man, and called "Waiter."
They did it remarkably well, wonderfully well ;
but they didn't seem to care whether I thought
so. They did it, too, just when they pleased,
never when / pleased, or when any one else
pleased : and one never could tell whether a
laugh or a cough would come next.
I seem to understand the language of Sterne's
Starling, and that of Shelley's Lark ; aye, and
I comprehend the pantomime of the Ingoldsby
Jack-Daw : — But those Mocking-birds !
46
Usually I am tliinking of more than one thing
at a time, and it happened at that juncture that
the character of Charles Lamb (I had been read-
ing his " Elia ") was in my mind.
Wliy did he write those quaint, odd, sneering,
coughing, laugliing, capital Essays of his 1
I could come to none but the impotent con-
clusion — because he chose.
Let me not be deemed irreverent — I who
would be proud to be known as "junior fag " to
that " senior prefect " — if I indulge a fancy to
attempt imitating the style of that genial invalid,
of that kind-hearted, serio-comic cynic, poor,
dear, dead -and -gone, ever -surviving Charles
Lamb.
(Dn 6nia kfor^ gl^at.
" Agimus Tibi gratias" — thus ran the grace at
Winchester — "pro his atque iis univei'sis douis
Tuis :" — which I choose to construe, "for these
and for no end of other blessed things, thank
Gocir
I do wish people would be more demonstrative.
I wish it were customary to say " Thank God "
in a good loiid honest voice more frequently
than once a day. Not for having " won the
rubber," friend Deuceace, nor yet for Sifiuke at
billiards. It is incongruous. Not even, — Sir
Loader Breach, Baronet, — for having knocked
over your right and left, "wiping the eye" of
old Muzzle to boot. No, — let there be a fitness
in things, I charge you. Sir Loader. There is
such a thing as "praising God amiss."
48
Let me explain that by the word " Grace," as
I use it here, I simply mean, either " God grant"
or "thank God." This is not precisely jorayer;
it is merely a little burst of recognition of the
Almighty in regard to the matter before us;
and I propose to instance some occasions where
to " say a Grace " ought not to be considered a
sign of bigotry, of affectation, pretension, or of
finy other — (the word must out) — humbug ; and
I mean to insist that much good, and no possible
harm, would come of the pi'actice.
At more than one period of my life — I'm an
old man now, older than our Family Bible indi-
cates — it has ha]:ipened to me, upon the receipt
of an anxiously-expected letter — a letter at once
dreaded and longed for — to thi'ust it into my
breast, to proceed straight to my chamber, and,
having closed the door, upon my knees to say,
or think, a " Grace " upon that letter.
49
Highly eccentric I — liig'lily illogical even ! —
for there, on the bed, lay the written letter !
Its contents, whatever they were, could not be
changed. Yet have I felt this act of mine to be
almost a natiu'al instinct. I did exjDect some
undefined blessing to attend it — nay, I protest
piy belief that some improved or heightened
sense of gratitude — or of resignation — was
granted, owing to that " Grace."
I am not a religious character. Helas ! a
sad careless liver am I.
" Parous Deorum cultor, et infrequens.''^
Still, I will place the impulse or instinct last
alluded to in opposition to, — no, in juxtaposition
with — a dissimilar instinct.
Illustrious Dickenshas just told us* the "Gi'ace"
of Rogue Riderhood upon his restoration to life,
after having been swamped by the steamer: '■'■Til
have the law on her, bust her" — with a curse on
eveiybody in general for " kot having saved his
old cap !"
* "Our Mutual Friend."
50
I quote Rogue Riderhood only because his
was an " occasion." It brought into play his
impulse or instinct, which appears truly of a low
order of Christianity.*
As to the guilt of his " instinct" — thereof on\y
One can take the measure. — All-excellent Tom
Hood tells me what to feel about Riderhood —
" Owning his weakness
And evil behaviour,
But leaving with meekness
His sins to his Saviour."
You come face to face witb one, your qi-devant
friend, but whom you now deem your enemy.
To your astonishment, he clasps your hand
spontaneously : — I love spontaneous people : " la
premiere pe')isee c'est la bonne" — and somehow,
anyhow, he convinces you — that he is sorry, and
* I must not call it M?i-Christian after having heard
another "Sir Loader Breach" praise the intelligence
of his setter. "Why, damme ! sir, that (female dog)
of mine ! she can bear malice like a Christian ! "
51
that he wants to be fnends once more. — Here
the very best word, for him and for yourself, you
can possibly say on separating will be, " Thank
God." — He will understand you. — The friendship
will be safer than it ever was before.
You thought your servant — a dear old es-
teemed family servant of the ancien regime —
had stolen three sovereigns, w-hich you are
absolutely cei'tain you had in your pocket on
Monday last. — This is Thursday! — He has never
been nigh jou since proof positive! — He could
not resist ; the temptation was too great. He
is almost a pauper, and has a squalling, ragged,
numerous family ; an ailing wife, just strong
enough to be perpetually in the family-way.
Friday is wet — all fog and mud ! — Where are
those old trousere you wore on Monday 1 — A
hole in the pocket, by Jove ! — Then you per-
fectly remember the repeated sensation of some
5-2
thing miming down your leg. But the crowd
was great ; you were late for the train, the last
that night. You bolted out of the cab, made great
running, and took heed of nothing whatever
until you tumbled in — and tumbled — asleep!
Well, you've lost your three sovs. Confound
it, so you have !
Still, you must be an ill-conditioned sort of
chap if you can't sing out in a good round voice
(though quite by yourself), and with a sigh of
relief by way of accompaniment, " Thank God !"
That " riches do not constitute happiness " is
a horribly trite saying, and perpetually in the
mouth of those whose whole life proves they
don't believe it ; whereas
"Bern, recte si possis, si non, quocunque modo rem,"*
appears to me a truer motto now-a-days than at
any previous age of the world.
* Get money— honestly, if you can — but get money !
53
If, then, I take the former, that horribly
trite, sapng into my own mouth, it is simply
that my mode of thinking, such as it is, may be
the better understood.
It may be that long and frequent observation
has facilitated in me the conviction that God's
Word on this subject is true.
It may be that I have tasted and proved.
It may be that the objects for the sake of
•which — or of whom — I craved accession of wealth
are removed.
However that be, at length and at last I do
somewhat realize its truth. (Whereupon I
choose to breathe the Grace, "thank God !")
Never at any age have I dared to ask —
crudely, dictatingly, and, as it were, affrontm.^
the Allwise — " God gi'ant " me, (say) ten thou-
sand a year ! — And I now submit to your sober
and reverent consideration whether to specify
to the Almighty a?i?/thing in its nature wholly
mundane be not positive impiety.
Viiiiues, qualities, excellencies, erudition,
54
health, for yourself — for those you love — for those
you— want to love. Well and good. Specify,
specify ; — 'twill give distinctness to your Grace.
You will find yourself, too, in common honesty
constrained to breathe the " thank God " yet
oftener than the " God grant."
I ha-s-e discovered my error. I actually spoke
of sivinsr instances — occasions, forsooth — for a
" Grace."
By Heaven, the printer would not lack "copy !"
Why, the " occasions " are " legion !" What \
Grace only once per day ! and that at feeding
time ! As well adopt the cold, unworthy,
miserable, though mighty profound "bosh" of
that bi'ute Voltaire — that all is Fate " dans ce
meilleur de tous les mondes possibles.^' Be con-
sistent, Doctor Pangloss, (not that I'm a very
consistent man myself !) — be consistent, I say, and
spare yourself the bother of" Grace " altogether 1
<< /«>'1
0k tst ijxrtouse."
A foreign acquaintance once — it was at Rome,
at Prince Torlonia's annual ball — observed me
ohservhig a pretty woman-
As for the ball, the honom- of being present
did not absolutely tiu-n one's bead. Your Consul,
worthy old Freeborn, owned you ; you had a
credit, a very modest credit, at the Highness-
Bankei-'s ; and — there you were !
What the foreigner who " observed me observ-
int^ " thought I was thinking is his affair. His
words, whispered into my ear, were " Elle passe
poiu" virtueuse."
Now, were I to overhear the same thing to-
morrow at the party to which my friends — (who
care not to be called " creme de la creme" nor
<' upper ten thousand," nor any such foolish name)
— have the kindness to invite me, what should
I feel ?
56
The speaker I should dislike and despise. If
the lady he referred to — maid, wife, or widow —
were friend of mine, I should probably yield to
my besetting sin and become demonstrative !
What ! she may or may not be virtuous !
What ! 'tis a chance, eh 1
Ah, there be men who agree with me, yet are
too mean to own it. There be men who believe
as I believe, but -svish to he thought to have proved
the contrary. Therefore they contradict me. —
Double disgrace upon their heads ! for, — firstly, —
they would "glory in their shame." Secondly —
(and infinitely worse) — they are cold-blooded
maligners, impure slanderers, base accusers behind
the back. Oh, shame ! shame !
Go, rob the mail, if you dare. Go, forge for
money : — the harm you'll do is appi'eciable. But,
to forge, to lie herein ! Shame ! I say, shame !
I never was a lady-killer, probably never could
have been had I wished : I never did wish either
to be, or to be thought, one.
01
But I go much further, and declare that never
in Enciland did I know an English lady whose
virtue — of course I mean chastity — I doubtetl
for one instant.
C'est heaucoup dire 1 cries some one.
"Sir," I rejoin, "si in hoc erro, erro luhenter,
and hang me if I'll change my opinion ! "
Foreign ladies, — cest autre chose ; they have
foreign ideas. English ladies long acclimatized
to certain foreign atmospheres, je ne dis pas. It
is possible to put a modified, — in short quite a
different, — construction upon even such words as
"vii-tue" and "chastity" to the construction
affixed by me who set up for a simple English
gentleman. But then I insist upon it ipso facto
that the modifiers, diluters, prostituters of such
words have become «n-English.
Yes, I do see the Divorce Cases ! — (and intense
is my disgust that my Sisters, Daughters, Nieces,
■must see them likewise, — there, in the centre
of the Times, — so that they cannot hut be
seen.) What then 1 I have not asserted that
58
immodesty — unchastity don't exist. I say this :
that those weak, faulty, most unhappy hidies
are, after all, raroi :
" Jiarce, nantes in gnrgite vasto ;"
most rare, and floating helplessly in some sea of
iniquity, not of their own choosing.
" Bah ! only one more example," says Mon-
sieur, — says il Signore, — says el Cotite, " of that
radical, incurable, insular, pride, self-sufficiency,
arrogance, boastfulness," &c., &c., and &c. !
Laissez-moi tranquille, Messieurs. You have
my " Credo.'' If you can't adopt it, tant pis
POUR vous. Voila !
#« tijij %xt o{ not S^fincj:.
"Keep both ize open, but d'ont see mor'n harf you
notis." — Yankee Proverb.
The fox wlio had lost Ms tail, says the Fabulist,
sought to convince his brethren of the vast in-
convenience of that troublesome appendage.
Ah, the cunning fox !
With how much more reason may a short-
sighted man hold forth in favour of not seeing !
aye, and of not hearing, and of Tiot knowing ! for
to the laudation of all these estimable gifts —
shall I not rather say talents? — is this Essay
addressed.
One evening I make the acquaintance, at some
" Grand Hotel," some where, — (I hate precision)
—of a charming woman, — an English woman,
60
mark you, — who, among otliei' charming and
admii'able characteristics, possesses that which
our neighbours cVoidre mer are perpetually
sneering at as la 2}Tuderie Britannique.
Sneer away, Johnny Crapaud ! and sneer again
when I declare myself seized with a chaste and
Platonic affection for pretty Mrs. Lightfoot (let
us call her), and yet never dream of her as a
conquete; no, nor set myself to fah'e la cour to
her in any such sense as you, Johnny, mon ami,
would expect, — and practise !
Issuing from my chamber next morning, I see
— for I can see — my charmer in the corridor,
about thirty paces from me. She is but partly, or
partially, drest. That shawl is thrown on for the
moment. Her hair, her "opulente chevelure" of
a delightful auburn, is certainly not arranged for
the day. Most certainly she hoped to be unseen.
Confusion ! In one instant we must meet —
we must almost touch in jiassing. Shall I " turn
and flee 1 " By no means. That will in no wise
spare her distress. — I have nothing in my hand
61
to drop and stoop for. — Shall I stare at tlie
ground, the wall, the ceiling ? The motive would
be too transparent. . . . IVo ; I instantly
become blind — blind as a bat ; I change not my
pace ; I meet and I pass her : but " there Ls no
speculation in those eyes" of mine, none soever.
And she, dear lady, has the tact (taking the
hint I verily believe from me) to behave almost
as well as I.
Befoi'e dinner we meet again. Presuming
upon my last night's acquaintance, which was
not without introduction by name, I rise, bow
and step unhesitatingly forward, hoping she will
give me her hand,
I have predetermined to act thus. It succeeds ;
for we speak easily and frankly at once ; and I
know then, and thenceforward, that she thanks
me for knowing how " not to see."
My name is now on her visiting list. I now hold
a place in her " good books." Did I not mention
that dear Mrs. Lightfoot is a m idow 1 I should
have done so. Yes, a widow, of good taste,
G2
good feeling, and good understaiidmg. Slie is
the nicest woman ! — dresses well, sings well,
pronouncing the words — and makLng you /eel
their meaning.
She gives old wine, and likes you to drink it.
She can be silent, and she can converse ; not
small talk (albeit small talk has its value),
nor the talk of ladies whose lower integuments
are cserulean — no, she actually talks — seuse !
Dear Mrs. Lightfoot !
#n; not pcannig.
We are in the refreshment-room at
station : the hour so very matutinal that even
the cross young women who should officiate
have not had time to do their back hair, and
appear.
Whence comes it (par parenthese) that these
young women are so careful, neat, nay coquet-
tish, as to their hair and the upper half of their
person (which is all to be seen by reason of those
vexatio\xsly high counters), and yet so cross in
behaviour? A reason there must be. We will
look into this.
The voice of Mamma is not amiable. Her
voice is not a sweet voice. At this moment it
64
is the reverse of sweet; and, alas, it is loud!
She is scokling her young daughter ; the mat-
ters, moreover, are purely, minutely, domestic
— worse ; they regard the " res angusta domi" and
the " veiy head and front of her offending " — (of
the young daughter's offending) — is — the amount
of her washing-bill at the inn !
I am seated, reading the Satui'vwwe ReA^ew.
INIamma's back is turned to me. Y oung daughter
directly faces me. Hum ! ha ! — aggravating little
bonnet ! but quite a good girl, and ([uite re-
spectable. Bless her !
J say the daughter directly faces me, and I
am within earshot of that " excellent thing in
woman," a ^^ soft voice;" much more, therefore,
of these notes con strepito.
The daughter Itlushes painfully. I myself
am sincerely pained upon her account ; also for
Mamma : for how can / tell how cruelly
" angusta" their "res domi" may be 1
In a few minutes they will be gone by the
train ; in the second, perliaps in the third, class.
65
We are not likely to meet again, so they'll never
tind out .... Come ! a bold stroke !
I -walk \ip to Mamma, and in a loud voice,
with my hand to my ear, enquire, — let's see,
what can I enquire 1 Oh ! " can she possibly in-
form me at what precise hour the train is due
at 1 "
She can, and, with much civility, she does;
her pitch and key being considerately adapted
to my infirmity! — So, that conversation is spoiled,
— and I have been acting a lie ! However, I
have done the girl a kind tiun, and, somehow, I
walk awav " serene."
A gentlemanly foreigner, who speaks our
language far better (to my mind) than some of
ourselves, by a mispronunciation, or the misuse
of a word, commits a ludicrous incongruity ; . . . .
or a lady, by reason of her innocency and true
66
modesty — I say, by reason of the absence of evil
from lier pure mind — makes use of a phrase
which we men around her, thanks to our grosser
cliaracter, at once associate with an indelicate
idea. Among oui-selves, alas! the phrase con-
veys a clouble-entendre, witty, perhaps, but
immodest assuredly. In these circumstances, the
man who but smiles — the man who casts but the
merest glance at his neighbour, commits thereby
a gaucherie far exceeding that of my foreign
gentleman or my respected lady friend ; nay, 'tis
he who is guilty of indelicacy and of grievous
impropriety.
If none but true gentlemen were present,
why, they knew how tiot to hear — so they saved
my foreigner from annoyance, — my virtuous lady
from distress.
All this should he obvious — connu, archi-connu.
It should be so. But, alack ! my chaste country-
men, —
" A chiel's amang ye takin' notes ;
Au' faith, he'll prent it."
#it noi Pnotuinig.
Fred Careless is as kind-hearted a fellow as
any man I know.
Pity his brothex' and he don't agree.
His brother, Joseph, is honourable and tinith-
ful. He is a steadier man, too, than Fred —
that I do know ; Likewise, that " haud tenuem
cereviseam de sese existimat." Moreover, that
to get a joke into his opaque brain, requu-es a
surgical operation; fui-ther, that he is about as
modest as Helen ! * lastly, that he possesses about
as vcLVich. senti7nent as "Peter Bell" entertained
for the primrose !
Well, Joseph — (somehow, one never calls him
" Joe," yet one always calls m^ friend " Fred ")
* She of Troy, I mean, she
"of bashful charms,
Who clasped the beauteous hero in her arms 1"
Mem. to see how my Lord Derby handles this chose
epineuse.
68
chose to relate to me, with sad circumstantiality,
all Fi-ed's awful misconduct towards the fjimily
of old Easy.
Now, I know Easy myself: a capital fellow.
Most men are capital fellows if youll begin by
thinking them so, and treat them accordingly.
I dare say the way Easy talks to me is not
exactly the same way he adopts to Fred, nor
even to Joseph.
To be sure, "all the world" did say that Fred
was engaged to Marian Easy— had been engaged
to her for a whole twelvemonth.
Why, he was for ever at Belfort House ; took
his friends there ; rode Easy's horses, sometimes
in company with both the girls, but more fre-
quently with Marian alone— and no groom !
He used to go himself to Easy's cellar ; knew
every bin, and chose just what vintage he pre-
ferred.
Now, what young fellow, not being a relation,
carries on in that fashion, — except Sijiange ?
69
How could I deny all tliis 1 — I did not attempt
to deny it. I merely said it was no business of
mine.
It was curious that at the very period at
which Fred so infamously jilted Marian, — accord-
ing to Joseph's and " all the world's" account, —
Marian appeared to me just as contented, and
natural, as I had ever known her in my life.
A sunny smile meseemed to play athwart her
classic face. Her voice had the true ringing
cheery timbre I do so love to hear. So, when
she told me, a proj)os of nothing in particular,
that she " didn't want to get married," why,
I positively believed her !
She told othei'S so besides me j but they had a
way of saying notliing and looking grave, and
Mai'ian fancied that tliey did not believe her.
So she used to say (quoting from "Pickwick") —
" ' Then (Z^sbelieve it,' said the Baron," and
off she would run, singing — (she always was
singing)—
"There's some one m the house with Dinah."'
70
Stay ! Yankee words from so classic a month I
Never ! — the words must have been —
" Est aliquis in domo Dinas,
Aliquis, (cognosce !)
Aliqnis in domo, canens
Antiqua Banjo !"
Off she would rattle, I say, to play croquet
without her bonnet.
I noticed that at this most ancient of sames
— hail to its revival — (long may it flourish as
" a great institution, sir, of our great country")
— I remarked that Marian cared more about
winning the game than about showing her
ankles ; that she didn't cheat, and wouldn't
stand cheating.
Perhaps I remarked other things. Anyhow, I
refused to know that Marian had ever been jilted
— ergo, I re/used to know that Fred was a jilt.
But how could I possibly get over the next
accusation against Fred 1
71
He had charged me — even me — with conduct
nnsuited to my age and my position, — and this in
the very quarter where most I coveted respect
and affection.
These charges were reported to me — (of course
they were). Alas ! I too well knew that Fred's
spii-it was set against me, and how and why.
Had I not ofiended his very manhood 1 question-
ing his right to hunt and to give wine-parties at
Cambridge? objecting to his "flying kites?"*
and declaring that he who gets into debt without
means to pay is — no gentleman ?
Too true, too true ! Still, who would have
thought that oflf-handed, liberal, rattlebrain of a
Fred Careless capable of a spiteful, a mean, a
revengeful action ?
I protest my peace of mind was as much dis-
turbed by this unwelcome thought as by the
injury itself. Clearly there was nothing for it
hut to call upon Fred openly to disavow, or to
* Obsolete. — Young Rapid now calls it ' ' fluttering a
falcon."
72
retract, and to — no, not " apologize ;" that woiilcl
pain us both, and, — motes and beams ! — I want
" apology " from no man.
So I indited a solemn, indignant epistle, de-
manding his retractation, or .... no
matter for the threatened alternative !
To some of us " children of a larger growth "
letter-writing acts as a soothing syrup.
My letter concluded, I saw that, whatever its
result, ill-feeling and ill-blood must prevail ; for,
as to my informant, — a lady too ! — had she not,
as it were, betrayed Fred for my sake 1 Such
might have been her duty, but how expect Mm
so to view it 1
I meditate. I soliloquize. How unnatural,
how monstrous, in a kind-hearted fellow, to
work his friend gratiiitous mischief !
Can Fred have got poisoned against me,
somehow 1
There must be something — something more
than I know. And, — once again ; — how sad and
shocking to go on through life in a state of
73
chronic anger against Fred, — against a fellow I
have liked so heartily ! If his " offence be
rank," shall mine be — 7'ancour ?
Jacta est alea. There goes my savage epistle !
It is scattered to the four winds, and I have
resolved 7iot to know one single iota about this
miserable business.
Now, what is the consequence 1 Three sum-
mers have since come and gone. (So says the
almanack. I can't say I particularly distinguished
any summer myself, unless a few weeks about
October !)
Fred is married. Mai-ian is mamed.
The former, supposing he did malign me — ah,
how truly sorry, how thoroughly repentant he is,
I see it in fifty ways. He makes me see it.
I told you he was a right hearted fellow.
As for Marian, when she found herself really
beloved, why, she — returned the com})liment ;
and then, but not until then, she " desired to
get married."
I met her yesterday — singing of course. This
74
time slie was carolling an ancient romaunt'of
Provenge :
" Aiissi belle qu'un papillou,
Aussi fi^re qu'une reine,
Est la petite jolie fille
De Papa Dintougrtne ! "
And she told me it was a love-match. She
and hex- Charley delight in telling me that theii-s
was a case of first-lowe !
Now, all these dear, good, happy people are
actually fond of me. They say just what comes
uppermost, fearless of misconstruction; and I
attribute this satisfactory state of things in great
measure to the art, or gift, or— I've half a mind
to say— the *' a<;complishment " of " not know-
ing ! "
(Dn iht Quern's CncjIisL
Here are people ■writing to the Times about
the proper way of accenting, and accentuating
Greek. — Here am I writing to the Times about
the proper manner of pronouncing Latin (in-
sisting, of course, upon the Winchester manner) ;
— and Mr. Editor will snub me. Quite right, too,
by Jove ! Think, what an avalanche of angry
protests from the quadrangular Dons of Camford
and Oxbridge it would bring down uj^on his
devoted head !
Reader, dear, did you ever undergo a " passage
7G
of arms " with a veritable Oxbridge Don, pro-
found on the Greek Particle, and long nourished
on Don's " black-strap " soi-disant '34 ]
Exists there in the whole world of " Pod-
snappery" a more crushing, smashing, over-
riding, extincruishinoj individual ?
Such a calamity befel me, hien mcdyre moi,
but recently.
The subject was one which a modest enquirer
after knowledge might fairly discuss even with
an Oxbridge Don. The weapons used against
me were stupendous. The flourishes ! the gam-
bades ! the parryings en tierce and en quarte ! (or
in folio and in quarto ! ) Pheugh !
And then the voice ! — for the voice there is
neither simile nor epithet. It was the voice of
an Oxbridge Don.
Snuffed out, overwhelmed, utterly annihilated
I must have been but for cei-tain armour of
proof I have adopted of late, indispensable in
the rough and bitter climate of " Podsnappery."
I call it the nemini-fide corazza.
But endoss it not, ye young and heart-whole,
for ah ! 'tis uneasy wear,
" Freezing the genial current of the soul."
The shirt of Nessus ! Bah !
" My dear fellow," said I,— not "Fellow" with
a big F. No ! — I positively assumed to be his
fellow-creature ! — " had you been less angry and
dictatorial I should have ' caved in,' but your
manner fills me with mistrust ; I shall look
up the author, and judge his meaning for my-
self." Thereupon I took a " back-hander " at
the black-strap [soi-disant '34), which finished
the bottle !
After this nihil ad rem, I beg to be
permitted to enter my humble but earnest
protest against that crying sin of oiu" age —
BAD English !
I am aware that the lower classes in France
say "j'arows" and "j'a?fo?is." (In the latter
78
case if you correct them they say, "je va /" ) I
am aware that the same class in Italy say,
" io siamo." Why they step so far out of their
way to do wrong is to me a mystery. When /
say "j'ai," or "jevais" they comprehend me.
Nay ! were I in speaking to them to say
'■'■'gallons'''' they would certainly remark it.
Hence one might infer that they do wrong
for wrong's sake simply and solely.
I know that I may say to my German partner,
" they are [sie sind) a charming walzer;" whereas,
should I say " thou art," {du hist) I might
" come to grief!"
Lastly, I am aware that Cobbett approved of
saying " you icas " in addressing one individual,
and gave his reasons, all which having " marked
and inwardly digested" I still "can't abide,"
Cobbett. Nay ! I infinitely prefer Mrs. Par-
tington.
But I am ti-eating of the English of Her
Majesty the Queen. Not that of Queen Anne
(who died some time since), nor of good Queen
79
Bess ; but tlie English — of her present Majesty
Queen Victoria.*
The "fountain of honour" should be the
fountain of grammar, and the loyal subjects of
Queen Victoria will, if they respect themselves,
speak English, as that language is received,
adopted, and spoken by Her Majesty.
When a certain periodical commenced an
article with the sentence, "What we want is
facts," Censor Punch immediately wrote, " and
what we want are grammar !"
Sharp and clever no dovibt ; but Punch, — like
Caswall's " Candidate for pluck " — " doth for the
most part aim at what is witty rather than what
is true."
With all respect for Lindley Murray and for
every other crying S^/n-taxer, I pray to be
understood as treating of the conventional Eng-
lish of the year of Grace 1865.
As for the H's — the dropped and the mis-
* Not that of her ministers who "■continue to remain!"
— [Vide Royal Speech.)
80
|)lacecl — I shall say little. Obloquy, and a
shuddering repugnance is (are 1 ) the lot of these
misdemeanants, however unconscions they may
be of the fact. This baneful evil, moreover,
having reached its apogee, and being now
publicly " ventilated," it will, let us hope,
gradually cease from amongst us. It may as-
suredly be "put down " with less difficulty than
the late Sir Peter Laurie found in "putting
down" paupei-ism.
Should any " good man and true " become
happily convinced of his sin in this respect, for
him there is yet hope. Let him follow the
advice of Censor Brummel to the man who wore
the loud waistcoat : let him dwell abi'oad with
all his family until the matter shall have
" blown over ! "
/ consider that in strictness some piiblic
penance should be undergone, and that the
culprit's goods should be confiscate to the State.
We live, however, in a charitable age. I say,
then, that upon his repentance and amendment
81
the sinner purged of his sin may at his return
be permitted to consort with his English fellow-
creatures in that station of life unto which it
hath pleased God to call him.
I now pi'oceed to hold up to the horror and
execration of the well-disposed nfponav <f)v\a
iravra, some few of the multilations, unlawful
utterings and other outrages daily committed
by " monsters in human form," whose outward
man betrayeth not the poison lying under their
lips. — And ye who from stress of circumstances
are victims to the society of such, oh, be ye
warned in time. The terrible disease is epidemic ;
"We first endure, then pity, then embrace.''''
Have I not known sons and daughters of
these afflicted ones— themselves well educate, and
passing fair — have I not known theii- sense to
become so blunted by familiarity with the " un-
clean thing," as to be imconscious, deaf, im-
penetrable, to the most flagrant offences ?
82
It is my custom, after being subjected to an
evil atmosphere of this nature to walk forth into
the open aii*, and there — in what my Lord Dun-
dreary calls an " inward ejaculation " — to correct
and unsay each one of the truculent abomina-
tions my torturers have inflicted upon mo, —
apologizing, as it were, to creation, — deprecating
the wrath of the gods upon this " perverse
generation," and protesting my individual in-
nocence.
(To be continued.)
"AEUNDINES" (FEACT^.)
84
Ck §liS %xm-t\raix,
I love it, I love it, and who shall dare
To chide me for loving that old Arm-chair 1
'Tis bound by a thousand bands to my heart,
Not a tie will break, not a link will start :
Would ye know the spell 1 — a Mother sat there,
And a sacred thing is that old Arm-chair.
I sat and watched her many a day,
While her eyes grew dim and her locks were gi'ey :
Years rolled on — but the last one sped ;
My idol was shattered, my earth-star fled :
I learnt how much the soul can bear,
When I saw her die in the old Avm-chair.
E. Cooke.
85
Illam amo, quantum amo ! Invidus taceat,
Si niihi vetus lisec Cathedra placeat.
Ilia adamantino stringitur cordi
Nexu et vinculo — scilicet audi :
Sedit in ilia heu ! Matrum tenerriraa ;
Et vetus lisec Cathedra est reruni sacerrima.
Quantum in\ngilavi, et totus in illis,
Nocti oculorum et canis capillis !
Sed anni— ah ! ultimus annus prseteriit,
Meus amor excessit et lux mea periit :*
De carcere luctus ad metam percurritur,
Quando ilia in veteri Cathedra moritur.
86
The bridal is over, the guests are all gone ;
The Bride's only Sister sits weeping alone ;
The wreath of white roses is torn from her brow,
And the heart of the Bridesmaid is desolate now !
With smiles and cai*esses she deck'd the fair Bride,
And then led her forth with affectionate pride :
She knew that together no more they should
dwell ;
Yet she smiled when she kissed her, and
whispered " Farewell ! "
She would not embitter a festival day,
Nor send her sweet Sister in sorrow away :
She hears the bells ringing, she sees her depart ;
She cannot veil longer the grief of her heart.
She thinks of each pleasure, each pain that endears
The gentle companion of happier years ;
The wreath of white roses is torn from her brow,
And the heart of the Bridesmaid is desolate now !
Haynes Bayley.
87
IJromiljct.
Convivse sponsalibus abiei'e ;
Sponsse Soror unica flet mlsere :
Disjecta corolla, rosa alba jacet,
Et Pronuba sola relicta dolet.
Quara blandtila mane complexa torsit
Capillos ! foras quani superba cluxit !
Victura deinceps, heu ! procul ei'at —
" Vale " at osculo ridens submurmurabat.
Foedare nolebat gemendo diem ;
Sororem nolebat abire tristem —
Campana ab ! sonat, deamataque abit ! —
Hand ultra dolorem deserta premit.
Annos reminiscitur actos una,
Et utrique communia Iseta, dura ;
Disjecta corolla, rosa alba jacet,
Et Pronuba sola relicta dolet.
88
(Ifyy ^til( Ire gone.
My God, my Father, while I stray
Far froQi my home in life's rough way,
teach me from my heart to say —
Thy will be done !
What though in lonely grief I sigli
For friends beloved, no longer nigh.
Submissive I would still reply —
Thy will be done !
Renew my will from day to day ;
Blend it with thine, and take away
All that now makes it hard to say —
Thy will be done !
Barbauld.
89
Jmt Voluntas.
Deus Pater, quando exulo
In asperis procul a domo,
Fac corde supplicem meo —
Fiat Voluntas Tua !
Si raptam amicam defleam,
Solam tenens solus \dam,
Fretus Deo respondeam —
Fiat Voluntas Tua !
Meam voluntatatem nova,
Et indies misce tua ;
Sitque peteve arduum veta —
Fiat Voluntas Tua !
90
There was an old man of Tobasro,
Who lived on rice gniel and sago ;
Till much to his bliss
His physician said this —
" To a roast leg of mutton you may go.
Gammer Gurton.
91
Un vecchio, clie visse nel Tobago,
Da lungo tempo inghiottiva sago ;
Ma infin il Medico disse un grato detto : —
" Mangiar came arrostita io vi permetto."
Te'pau Tis, oIkcop tovs To^ayaovs jxvxovs,
ISeiTTvoTTOie'i aayivTjv 8r]p6v rpvcfirjv'
TfXos 8' tarpos drre, xapf^ovfjv KKiieiv,
(fidyois av r]bri irpo^arov, w paKap yepov.
J'ai entendu parler d'un vieillard de Tobag,
Qui ne maagea longtems que du ris et du sague
Mais enfin le Medecin lui dit ces mots —
" Allez-vous-en, mon ami, au gigot."
LONDON :
BENJAMIN PARDON, PRINTER
PATERNOSTER ROW.
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