THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES ^"-y j/^ i- I THE GOOD-FELLOW'S CALENDAR, AND VLMANACK OF PERPETUAL jocularity; CONTAINING A CHOICE COLLECTION OF LAUGHABLE NARRATIVES, FACETIOUS ANECDOTES, SINGULAR FACTS, AND MIRTH-YIELDING DETAILS; ALL EMBELLISHED WITH STERLING WIT, GENUINE HUMOUR, AND PIQUANT RICHNESS ; AND INTERSPERSED WITH MIRTHFUL " GEiMS OT-' POESY:" THE WIIOLK So diTettingly, and so chionologiciilly put together, that the Keaiier is presented witli a Mass of Merriment for EVERY MONTH IN THE YEAR. " Under the Sun, " There's no such Fun.'' — Tom Moohe, LONDON: PublislieTesenta- iions, I could not prevail on my Publishers to take off more than thirty thousand copies, which limited im- pression will, I am confident, be required for this Metropolis alone ; as, in this quarter of the Globe, the breaking open of a new Fun Box is very joroperly hailed as an object of vital importance to every branch of the community. THE GOOD-FELLOW'S CALENDAR, AND ALMANACK OF PERPETUAL JOCULAPvITY. JANUARY. 16-^ Os ihis day the publishing world are all alive, as new Books, nezv IMagas^incs, and new Newspapers issue in great abundance from the Press ; — those jylants of the latter genus seem to vie with each other in /I'/gh-hrcd, classical, and fine-drann pliraseology. Indeed it must 1^ confessed, that amongst all the improvements of the age, none {)orhaps are more striking than those which have recently been made, and indeed are at present making, in the language of ordinary life. Who in these days ever readsof boarding-schools ? — Nobody : " they are transformed into " academies for boys'' and " seminaries for jxirls ;" the hieher classes are " EstabUshmcnts ,-" a coach-maker's shop is a " RepnsUorii Jbr Carnages T a milliner's, a " De- pot ,-" a thread-seller's, an " Emporium.'" One buys B 2 THE G00D-rELLO\v"'s CALENDAR. drugs at a " Medical Hall,'''' wines of a " Company^'' and shoes at a " Mart ;" blacking is dispensed from an " InstHidion^'' and meat from a " Purveyor^'' Instead of reading in our newspapers, that after a ball the company did not go away till daylight, we are told that " the joyous groupe continued trip- ping on the light fantastic toe until Sol gave them warning to depart." If one of the company hap- pened on his way to tumble into a ditch, we should be informed that " his foot slipped, and he was immersed in the liquid element." A good supper is described as making the " tables groan with every delicacy of the season." A crowd of briefless law- yers, unbeneficed clergymen, and half-pay officers, are enumerated as a " host of fashion"" at a water- ing-place ; where we are also informed that ladies, instead of taking a dip before breakfast, " plunge themselves fearlessly into the bosom of Neptune." A sheep killed by lightning is a thing unheard of: the animal may be destroyed by the " electric fluid ;" but, even then, we should not be told that it was dead; we should be informed that " the vital spark had fled for ever." If the carcass were picked up by a carpenter or shoemaker, we never should hear that a journeyman tradesman had found it : we should be told, that its remains had been discovered by an " operative artisan." All little girls, be their faces ever so plain, pitted, or pitiable, if they appear at a public office to com- JAXL'AIIV. 3 plain of robbery, or ill-treatment, are invariably " intelligent and interesting ;" if they have proceeded very far in crime, they are called " unfortunate females ;" should they by any accident have a prospect of becoming uiothers, avc are informed " that they are in a way that ladies wish to be wlio love their lords.""' Child-murder is elegantly termed " infanticide;" and when it is punished capitally, we hear, not that the unnatural mother was hanged, but that " the unfortunate culprit underwent the last sentence of the law, and was launched into eternity."''' No person reads in the newspapers, that a house has been burnt down : he perhaps will find, " that the house fell a sacrifice to the flames.*'"' In an ac- count of a launch we learn, not that a ship went off the slip without any accident, but that " she glided securely and majestically into her native element ;"'"' the said native clement being one in which the said ship never was before. To send for a surgeon if one"'s leg be broken, is out of the question ; a man indeed " may be dis- jxatched for medical aid." There are now no public singers at tavern dinners — they are " the professional gentlemen ;"" and actors are all " professors of the histrionic art."" Widows themselves are scarce ; these arc all " interesting relicts :" and as for nursery- maids, they are now-a-days universally transformed 4 THE GOOD-FELLOW S CALEKDAR. into " young persons who superintend the junior branches of the family." 1st— 119^. In a letter of this date, written by that accom- plished Scot, Sir John Dalrymple, to his relative. Admiral Dalrymple, he presents a very entertain- ing picture of the "Arcadian sweets'" vhich too commonly wait, on the retirement to the country of individuals whose best years have been spent amid the busy and bustling scenes of life. " Cranstov^ January 1, 1792. " My dear Sir, — You asked me what I had been doing ? To the best of my memory, what has passed since I came home is as follows : — " Finding the roof bad, I sent slaters, at the peril of their necks, to repair it. They mended three holes, and made thirty themselves. " I pulled down as many walls round the house as would have fortified a town. This was in summer; but now that winter is come, I would give all the money to put them up again, that it cost me to take them down. " I thoun-ht it would mve a majj-nificent air to the hall, to throw the passage into it. After it was done, I went out of town to see how it looked. It was night when I went into it ; the wind blew out the candle, from the over-size of the room ; upon JAXUAUY. & wliich I ordered the ])artition to be built up again, that I niiiiht not die of cold in the midst of summer! " I ordered the old tiinber to be thinned ; to which, perhaps, the love of lucre a little contributed. The workmen, for every tree they cut down, de- stroyetl three, by letting them fall on each other. I received a momentary satisfaction from hearing that the carpenter I employed liad cut off his thumb in felling a tree. But this pleasure was soon allayed, when, upon examining his measure, I found that he had measured false, and cheated me of 20 j^er cent. " Remembering with a pleasing ~ complacency the Watcombe pigs, I paid thirty shillings for a sow with pigs, and my wife starved them. They ran over to a madman. Lord , who distrained them for damage ; and the mother, with ten hely)less infants, died of bad usage. " Loving butter uuich, and cream more, I bought two Dutch cows, and had plenty of both. I made my wife a present of two more : she learned the way to market for tlieir produce, and I have never got a bowl of cream since. " I made a fine hay-stack, but quarrelled witii my wife as to the manner of drying the hay and building the stack. The hay-stack took fire, by which 1 had the double mortification of losinu; mv hay, and finding my wife hatl more sense than nivself. 6 THE GOOD-FELLOW S CALENDAR. " I kept no plough, for which I thank my Ma- ker; because then I must have wrote this letter from a jail. " I paid JO.20 for a dung-hill, because I was told it was a good thing; and now I would give any body 20,9. to tell me what to do widi it. " I built and stocked a pigeon-house ; but the cats watched below, and the hawks hovered above ; and pigeon-soup, roasted pigeon, or cold pigeon-pye, I have never seen since. " I fell to drain a piece of low ground behind the house; but I hit upon the tail of the rock, and drained the well of the house, by which I can get no water for my victuals. " I entered into a great project for selling lime, upon a promise from one of my own farmers to give j me land oft' his farm ; but when I went to take off my ground, he laughed, said he had choused the lawyer, and exposed me to a dozen law-suits for breach of bargains which I could not perform. " I fattened black cattle and sheep; but could not agree with the butchers about the price. From mere economy, we ate them ourselves, and almost killed all the family with surfeits. " I brewed much beer ; but die small turned sour, and the servants drank all the strong. " I found a ghost in the house, whose name was M'Alistcr, a pedlar, that had been killed in one of the rooms at the top of the house two centuries ago. JANUAUY. 7 No servant would go of an errand after die sun was set, for fear of M'Alistcr, which cbhged me to send off' one set of my servants. Soon after the house- keeper, your old friend Mrs. Browne, died, aged ninety ; and then the belief ran, that another ghost was in the house, upon which many of the new set of servants begged leave to quit the house, and got it. " In one thing only I have succeeded : I have quarrelled with all my neighbours ; so that, with a dozen gentlemen's seats in my view, I stalk along like a lion in a desert. " I thought I should have been happy with my tenants, because I could be insolent to them without their being insolent to me ; but they paid me no rent ; and in a few daj's I siiall have above one half of tlie very few friends I have in the country, in a prison. " Such being the pleasures of a country life, I intend to quit them all in about a month, to submit to the mortification of spending the spring in Lon- don, where I am happy to hear that j\Irs. Dalrymple is doing well. " Just when I was going to you last spring, I received a letter from Bess, that she was dying. I put off" my journey to Watcombe, and almost killed myself with posting to Scotland, where I found madam in perfect good health. — Your'; always, my dear Jack, John Dalrymple."" 8 THE good-fellow's CALENDAR. 4//i— 1821. The " leading Journal of Europe," yclept The Times, this day contained the following true story of a Ghost ; it is part of the " My dear first Hus- band'''' system, and displays the conjugal fidelity of an Irish Ephesian matron. Mr. Samuel Fisher, the inventor of the golden Snuff\ was acquainted with a widow lady of excellent character, who resided in Cork. This laxly was inconsolable for the death of her husband : the day was spent by her in sighs and incessant lamentations, and her pillow at night was moistened with the tears of her sorrow. Her husband, her dear husband, was the continual theme of her discourse ; and she seemed to live for no other object but to recite his praises and deplore his loss. One morning, her friend Fisher found her in a state of mental agitation bordering on distraction. Her departed love, she said, had aj)peared. to her in the night, and most peremptorily ordered her to enter the vault where his remains were deposited, and have the coffin opened. Mr. Fisher remonstrated with her on the absurdity of the idea ; he said that the intensity of her sorrow had impaired her intellect ; that the phantom was the mere creature of her imagination ; and begged of her, at least, to postpone to some future ])eri()d her intended visit to the corpse of her husband. The lady acquiesced for that time in his request : but the two succeeding mornings, the angry spirit of her spouse stood at her bed-side. JANUARY. y ami, with loud menaces, repeated his command. Mr, Fisher, therefore, sent to the sexton; andmatters lx.'iiifr arranged, the weeping widow and her friend attended in tlie dismal vault; the coffin was opened with much solemnity, and the faithfid matron stooped down and kissed the clay-cold lips of her adored husband. Having reluctantly parted from the beloved corpse, she spent the remainder of the day in silent anguish. On the succeeding morning, Fisher (who intended to sail for England on that day) called to bid his afflicted friend adieu ! The maid-servant told him that the lady had not yet arisen. '• Tell her to get up,", said Fisher ; " I wish to give her a few words of consolation and advice before my de]>arture.'" " Ah, Sir !" said the gmiling girl, " it v/ould be a pity to disturb the iiew-married couple so early m the morning !"" " What new-married couple .^" " My mistress, Sir, was married last night !" " IMarrled ! impossible ! what ! the lady who so adored her deceased husband, who was visited nightly by his ghost, and who, yesterday, so fervently kissed his corpse .'' Surely you jest .^" " Ah, Sir,'" said the maid, " my late master, poor man, on his death-bed, made my mis- tress promise that she would never n'.arry any man after his decease till he and she should meet af^'lln (which the good man, no doubt, thought would never liappen till diey met in heaven) ; and vou know, n)y dear Sir, you kindly introduced them to B 5 10 THE GOOD-FELLOW''S CALENDAR. each other, face to face, yesterday. INIy mistress, Sh', sends you her coniphments and thanks, together with tliis bride-cake to distribute among your young friends." The following morceaux of ana are too piquant to be omitted : — At the marriage of Louis the Sixteenth with Antoinette, in 1770, a dreadful accident occurred, l)y which a thousand people lost their lives. Among them was one Legros, a ladies'" hair-dresser, of much fame. The wife of Leo-ros went to the field of the slain about three o'clock in the morning, when some one beffan telling her the fate of her husband in as tender a manner as possible. " 'Tis very well/'^ said she ; " but I must feel in his pockets for the keys of the house, or else I cannot get in ;" and so saying, this disconsolate widow went quietly home to her bed. Madame GeofFrin had a husband, who was per- mitted to sit down at his own table to dinner, at the end of the table, upon condition that he never attempted to join in the conversation. A foreigner, who was very assiduous in his visits to Madame Geoffrin, one day, not seeing him as usual at table, enquired after him : — " What have you done with the poor man whom I always used to see here, and who never spoke a word .^" " Oh, that was my husband ; he is dead !" JANUARY. 11 7/A_1785. On this auspicious morn, a remarkable wedding was solemnized at St. James's, Clerkenwell. A woman, about forty, who had been blind many years, heard a young man (whose apprenticeship to a shoemaker had lately expired,) at work in her neighbourhood from early in the morning till late every evening ; conceiving a favourable opinion of him from these proofs of an industrious dis}X)sition, she made him a present of a silver watch and a suit of clothes ; and lent him ten pounds, the better to enable him to carry on his business. Short- ly after, he called on his benefactress, informing iier, that having received offers of great encou- ragement, he was preparing to set out for Leicestershire, to settle there among his friends ; adding, that he would exert his utmost endeavours speedily to discharge the unsolicited favours she had heaped upon him. She commended liis reso- lution ; but next day sued out a writ, which being served upon him, he was taken to a lock-up house. She visited him in his confinement, and infm-med him that he must immediately pay the money, go to prison, or — marry her ! He agreed to the latter offer, and a licence was procured ; but he was de- tained in custody till the jiarties proceeded from the lock-up house to church, wliere the officer who had executed the writ upon the bridegroom 12 THE GOOD-rELLOw's CALENDAR. acted as father to the bride, who was possessed of about a thousand pounds. 8th— \H0^. Father O'Leary died, aged 72. " I had the pleasure (said that amusing veteran, Michael Kelly, in his Reminiscences) to be intro- duced to my worthy countryman, the Rev. Father O'Leary, the well-known Roman Catholic Priest; he was a man of infinite wit, of instructive and amusing conversation. I felt highly honoured by the notice of this pillar of the Roman Church ; cur tastes were congenial, for his reverence was mighty fond of whisky punch, and so was /; and many a jug of St. Patrick'' s eije-xcater, night after night, did his reverence and myself enjoy, chatting over that exhilirating and national beverage. He some- times favoured me with his company at dinner; when he did, I had always a corned shoulder of mutton for him ; for he, like some others of his coun- trymen, who shall be nameless, was ravenously fond of the dish. " One day the facetious John Philpot Curran, who was also very partial to the said corned mutton, did me the honour to meet him. To enjoy the society of such men was an intellectual treat. They were great friends, and seemed to have a mutual re- spect for each other's talents ; and, as it may easily JAXUAKY. 13 be imagined, O'Leary versus, Curraii, was no bad niatcli. " One day, after dinner, Curran said to him, ' Reverend lather, I wish you were Saint Peter.'' " ' And why. Counsellor, would you wish that I were Saint Peter ?' asked O'Leary. " ' Because, Reverend Father, in that case,' smd Curran, ' you would have the keys of heaven, and you could let me in.' " ' By my honour and conscience. Counsellor,' rephed the divine, ' it would be better for you that 1 had the keys of tlie other place, for then I could let you out.' " Curran enjoyed the joke, which he admitted had a great deal of justice in it. " O'Leary told us of the whimsical triumph v>hlch he once enjoyed over Dr. Johnson. O'I.eary was very anxious to be introduced to that learned maii, and Arthur IMurphy took him one morning to tiie Doctor's lodfjings. On his entering the room, the Doctor viewed him from top to toe, without at first speaking to him ; at length, darting one' of his sourest looks at him, he spoke to him in the Hebrew language, to which O'Leary made no reply. Upon which, the Doctor said to him, ' Why do you not answer me. Sir ?' " ' Faith, Sir,' said O'Leary, ' I cannot reply to you, because I do not imderstand the language ia which you are addressing me.' It THE GOOD-FELLOWS CALENDAR. " Upon this tlie Doctor, with a contemptuous sneer, said to IVIurphy, ' Why, Sir, this is a pretty fellow you have brought hither : — Sir, he does not comprehend the primitive language.' " O'Leary immediately bowed very low, and com- plimented the Doctor with a long speech in Irish, to which the Doctor, not understanding a word, made no reply, but looked at IVIurphy. O'Leary, seeing that die Doctor was puzzled at hearing a language of which he was ignorant, said to Murphy, pointing to the Doctor, ' This is a pretty fellow to whom you have brought me; — Sir, he does not understand the language of the sister kingdom.' The Reverend Padre then made the Doctor a low bow, and quitted the room." O'Leary, though with great talents for a con- troversialist, always sedulously avoided the angry theme of religious disputation. Once, however, he was led into a controversy. While he was at Cork, he received a letter through the Post Office, the writer of which, in terms expressive of the utmost anxiety, stated that he was a clergyman of the Estabhshed Church, on whose mind impressions favourable to the Catholic creed had been made by some of O'Leary's sermons. The writer then professing his enmity to angry controversy, wished to seek further information on some articles of the Catholic creed. His name he forbore to reveal. / JANUARY. 15 CLearv, anxious to propagate the doctrine of his church, repUed in a manner perfectly satisfactory to his anonymous correspondent. Other doubts were expressed, and dissipated, until the correspondence had extended to eight or ten long letters. O'Learv, in joy at his supposed triumj^h, Avlii?- pered the important secret to a few ecclesiastical confidants ; among whom was his bosom friend, the Rev. Lawrence Callanan, a Franciscan friar, of Cork. Their congratulations anil approbation were not wanting, to urge forward the champion of orthodoxy. His arguments bore all before them ; even the obstacles arising from family and legal notions, were disregarded by the enthusiastic con- vert; and he" besought CLeary to name a tmie, and place, at which he might lift the mysterious vizor by which he had hitherto been concealed ; and above all, have an opportunity of expressing his gratitude to his friend and teacher. The a])pointed hour arrived. O'Leary arranged his orthodox wig, put on his Sunday suit of sable, and sallied forth with all the collected gravity of a man fullv conscious of the novelty and responsibility of the affair in which he was engaged. He arrived at the appointed ])lace of meeting some minutes after tlie fixed time, and was told that a respectable clergyman awaited his arrival in an adjoining parlour. O'Leary enters the room, where he iinds, sitting at the table, with the whole correspondence before him, 16 THE good-fellow's CALENDAR. his brother friar, Lawrence Callanan, who, either from an eccentric freak, or from a wish to call 0'Leary''s controversial powers into action, had thus drawn him into a lengthened correspondence. The joke, in O'Leary's opinion, however, was carried too far; and it required the sacrifice of the correspondence, and the interference of mutual friends, to effect a reconciliation. O'Lcary once conceived a great desire to see the notorious miser, Daniel Dancer, who lived, and died, in the utmost wretcliedness, at Harrow Weald Common, in 1794', though leaving property to the amount of .£'.3,000 a year. The retired habits, and low cautious avarice of Dancer, rendered an intro- duction to him difficult; and an intimacy of any continuance, a matter almost out of the sphere of possibility. The obstacles to both were overcome by CLeary, who, during a visit to the neighbour- hood of Dancer's house, found means to gain admittance into the ruined dwelling where the miser }>assed his life. Some strange communication, which he contrived to have conveyed to the object of his search, procured him admittance into a filthy apart- ment, where the haggard lord of useless thousands anxiously awaited his arrival. O'Leary introduL'ed himself as a relation of the Dancer family ; and in a most amusing manner detailed the origin of the name, and the exploits of the early founders of the family. From David, who danced before the JANL'AUV. 17 Israelites, he traced the prof]^ress of their descent to Llie collateral branches, the Welsh jumpers^ then conteniporai'ies of dancing notoriety. His wit tri- nnij)hed; for a moment the sallow brow of avarice became illumined by the indications of a delighted mind ; and Dancer had courage enouirh to invite his visitor to partake of a glass of wine, which the miser said he would procure for his refreshment. A cordial shake of the hand, was the return made for OXeary''s polite refusal of so expensive a compli- ment ; and he quitted the house, followed by its strange tenant, who, to the amusement of O'Leary, and the astonishment of the only other person who witnessed the scene, solicited the favour of another visit. 8^A— 1821. A newspaper of this date, mentions an extraordi- nary feat performed by a ]Mr. Huddy, post-master of Lismore, and celebrated in the southern parts of the Sister Isle for his eccentricities and vagaries. In the ninety-seventh year of liis age, he travelled for a wager, from Lismore to Fermoy, in a 'ruge Dungarvon oyster tub, drawn by a pig, a badger, two cats, a goose, and a hedgehog ; his head was adorned with a large red night ca]); in one hand, he very gracefully bore a pig-driver's whip, which he administered, as occasion required, to his " fairy- footed"' steeds; in the other hand, he waved a cow's horn, from which he extracted, " ever and anoUj'* 18 THE GOOD-FELLOw''s CALENDAR. enchanting sounds to encourage his variegated team, and give notice of this new and hitlierto neglected mode of posting. After perusing this interesting detail with the attention its merits deserve, the editor has come to this conclusion, — tiiat on no part of the habitable globe could this enterprising feat have been per- formed, except in Ireland. 10^/^—1777. Spranger Barry, the celebrated rival of Gar- rick, died of the gout, at his house in Norfolk Street, in the Strand, and was interred privately in tlie cloisters of Westminster Abbey. This gentleman, besides the splendour of his dramatic talents, possessed, in a very eminent de- gree, the fascinating powers of polite address and persuasive insinuation. At no period of its history could the Dublin stage boast so poM^Grfal a combi- nation of talent as when under the direction of Mr. Barry : and although the salaries of the very best actors in that day bore no sort of comparison to those of very inferior talents in this, yet his receipts were frequently inadequate to his expenditures; and he was, in consequence of that and his style of living, constantly embarrassed. He had,of course, a crowded levee of importunate claimants ; but no man ever possessed more eminently the power of soothing that " horrible monster, hated of gods and men"' — JANUARY. 19 A DUN. For thougli most of them were sent empty away, none departed with an achhig iieart ; for he adorned his bnpunctuaUties with such witching jx)- liteness, and so many satisfactory reasons, and che- rished hopes with such encouraging prospects, as reconciled disappointments, and silenced the most rude and determined importunacy. Numberless are the instances related of his management in this respect. One or two specimens may serve to illus- trate his talents. His stage tailor at Dublin had agreed, in order to secure to himself all the profits of his contract, to furnisli materials as well as workmanship ; but tlie manager, in process of time, had got so deeply into his books, as to expose him to much embarrassment from his own creditors. Unwilling to offend so good a customer, the man had worn out all patience in the humilities of civil request and pressing remonstrance. At last, he was determined to put on a bold face, and become quite gruff and sturdy in his demands. But the moment he came into tiie manager's presence, his resolution failed him ; for he was assailed by such powers of bows, and smiles, and kind inquiries after his family, — such pressing invitations to sit in the handsomest chair, take a glass of wine, partake of a family dinner, or spend a Sunday at the mana- ger's villa ; and all that he intended to say, in urging his claim, was so completely anticipatetl by apologies and feasible excuses for non-payment, that 20 THE good-fellow's calendah. he could not find courage to pronounce the object of his visit. And if he betrayed any symptoms of a disposition to reply or remonstrate, the discourse was so agreeably turned in an instant, that he could not venture to urge a disagreeable topic, and he retired under an escort of the manager in person to the stairs' head — descended to the hall, under a sliower of kind expressions, and was ushered to the door by a brace of hveried footmen, rung up for the very purpose. On his return home from these visits, his wife, who was of the Xantippean school, failed not to lecture him severely, as a noodle and a ninny, who had not the courage to demand and insist upon his right as a man ; asseverating, that " if she had the management of the affair, she would soon have the money, in spite of the manager's palavering.'''' The husband acknowledged his weakness, and said he sliould cheerfully resign the business to her care ; but predicted, that, with all her fierceness, she would he conquered also. The good lady chose a morning for her purpose ; advanced agyinst the manager, attired in all her finery, and armed with all her ferocity and eloquence, reached Barry's hall door, where her presence was announced by a thundering sonata on the knocker. The footman, guessing the nature of her errand, and anticipating a storm, from the fui-y of her countenance, said his master was not at home. Just JANUAHV 21 at this moment, however, tlic voice of Mr. Barry was heard on the staircase, calling to one of his servants, and betrayed the official j^"6 of the laccjuey. " There,"' said the sphinx, " I knew you were telling me a lie; he is at home, and I must see him directly ;" and immediately ran up the stairs. Mr. Barry, who had seen her before, kenned, at a glaiw-e, die object of her mission, and met her at the stairs' head, with a smile of ineff'able kindness, welcomed her to his house, took her politely by both hands ; led her into tlie drauing-room (fi'owning like a bear), made a thousand kind enquiries about her good, kind husband, and her dear little children ; shewed her his pictures; consulted her judgment as to the likeness of his own portrait ; lamented her f;itigue in walking so far in so cold a morning; rang up his servants ; ordered fresh coffee and chocolate ; would hear no excuse, but insisted that she should take some refreshment, after so long a ramble. The table was spread with elegancies ; preserved fruits, honey-combs, licpieurs, and cordials, courted her palate to fruition; and a large glass of excellent cherry-brandy, pressed on her with persuasive kiiid- ness, banished from her countenance all the stern array of the morning, and attuned her heart to siich kintlness, that all debts were forgotten, and all demands rendered quite impossible. Th.e lady, overwhelmed with politeness, was about to depart, but ]Mr. Barry could not suffer this in an ordinary 22 THE good-fellow's calekdak. way, nor leave his victory incomplete. He insisted on giving her a set-down at her house, in his own carriage. Pie backed his request with another small glass of cherry-brandy, to fortify her stomach against the cold air. The carriage was ordered; and, after a circuit of three miles throvigh tlie prin- cipal streets of the metropolis, he set the lady down at her own door, with the kindest expressions of politeness and respect, and the highest opinion of her person and cliaracter. The husband, who awaited with eagerness the return of his wife, drily asked, " Well, my dear, I sup])ose you have got the money ?'''' But the lady, finding in her own failure an ample excuse for the former weakness of her husband, fairly owned her- self vanquished ; and said, " that it M^as impossible to offend so szveet a gentleman, by dunning- him for money."" The other instance was in the case of an eminent mercer, named Grogan, to whom the manager owed a large sum for tlie finery of his tragedy queens and fashionable personages of the drama. He was admitted to be, not only an accomplished miser, but one of the most persevering and inexor- able dims in Europe. Ilis importunacy with the manager having failed in Dublin, he followed him to London, with no other purpose than to elicit the amount of his debt by the combined forces of entreaty and menace ;— defeated in his first JANUAHV. 23 approaches by the usual influence of Barry's urbanity, he rallied again, and, during the month lie continued in London, renewed his attempts by a dozen ad- vances to the charge, but with the like success. Mr. Barry's irresistible politeness, the cordial suavity of his manner, his hospitable invitations to dinner, his solicitude to procure for his good friend tickets for admission to all the places of public amusement, and his })ositive determination to accommodate him on those occasions with the use of his own caniac^c and servants, rendered it (juite impossible for INIr. Gro- gan even so much as once to mention the subject of his debt; and he returned toDubhn to tell the story of his utter defeat by so consummate a master in the science ofjincssc. IGM— 1792. A Mrs. Griggs, of Southampton Row, died : her executors found in her house o?iltj eighty-six living, and twenty-eight dead Cats. This lady, who died worth thirty thousand ])ounds, left her black servant one hundred and fifty pounds per annum, for the niiiintenance of the eighty-six surviving grimalkins and himself. In the Mercure Galante for July 1G78, we read of a famous lawsuit, relative to a Cat of IMadame de Puis, a celebrated har]>playcr. This lady's will, in favour of her Cat, made a great noise at the time, and a suit was carried on to set it aside. Messrs. 24 THE GCOD-FELLOW's CALEN'DAR. Maurice, Vautier, and cle Ferriere, all famous law- yers, displayed their genius and abilities; the former in defending it, and the two others in pleading against it. The pension -which the deceased lady settled on her Cat, and the visits which she ordered should be paid every week, were the circumstances 511 ost inveighed against. 16^A— 1794. Edward Ginnox died, aged 57. Soon after this celebrated historian became an inhabitant of Lausanne, a lady of great beauty and talents made such an impression upon his heart, that he could not resist the impulse of love ; but, falling on his knees, avowed the passion her charms liad inspired. The object of his affection, in spite a^ the historian*'s eloquence, was deaf to his en- treaties, and requested him to rise. He attempted to obey this injimction, but in vain, for his weighty- person, unaccustomed to such a position, was not easily restored to its proper balance. The lady, fearinfj that some one miolit detect her admirer in this awkward situation, forgot her anger, and en- deavoured to lift him from the ground. Her strength, however, was unec^ual to the task ; and after various ineffectual struggles, both by Gibbon and the lady, the latter was obliged to ring the bell, and order her astonished servant to raise the prostrate scliolar. The following ludicrous verses on this delectable J.XKLAUY. 2.5 > occurrence, proceed from the brilliant pen of George Colman : — THE LUMIXO'JS HISTORIAN' ; OR LEARNING IX LOVE. A man I sing- whom memory reveres ; Hallow\l the spot where he now lies in earth ; Learning and genius there may mingle tears "W^ith virtue, \veeping over moral worth — Clio, the first of muses, hailVl his birth ; But Momus, ever flouting, laugli'd outright, To think that, when to manhood grown, what mirth Would be provoked by so grotesque a wight, So odtUy form'd as he w^ho was Eudoxl's*' hight. And when adult, with erudition's store. His early taste and judgment was supplied ; lie drained the sources of liistoric lore, Thenpour'd them back, through Europe, purified; Majestic, deep, yet smooth, and clear the tide; And elegance, obedient to his call, Saird down his flow of words in swan-like pride ; But, oh ! how wondrous the decline and fall, To " look upon his face," and then, " forget it all!" His person lookVl as funnily obese As if a pagod, growing large as man. Had rashly waddled oft' its chimney-piece To visit a Chinese upon a fan. c 2G THE GOOD-FELLOw's CALENDAR. Such his exterior; — curious "'twas to scan ! And oft he rapt his snufi'-box, ccck'd his snout, Ancl, ere his polished periods he began, Bent forwards, stretching his forefinger out, And talk''d in phrase as round as he was round about. ***** 'Twas in Lausanne, where crowded parties chat, And take their tea, ere I^ondon fashion dines, Nozing Eudoxus, blue-eyed AgTies sat, And talk'd of Trajan, and the Antonines; Dwelt much on Roman risings, and declines ; And murmured, while they huddled knee to knee, " What things voluptuousness undermines !" Eudoxus felt a glow — but knew not, he, Whether "'twas love, the crovv'd, philosophy, or tea. Whene"'er she utter''d, breathing like the south, As o'er a bank of violets it blows, He curPd the smirking hole he calPd a mouth, And fed with snufF the knob he terni'd a nose — His bosom''s fat heaved with unwonted throes; And still she talk'd, and still he listen"'d, still Fresh beauties in her countenance arose ; He ask'd her dwelling-place ; sad news and chill — " Skirting Lausanne,"" she said, "upon the next high liill." * JANUARY. 27 *' Alas!" he cried, " pedestrious I depart To scale 01ym})us, and a goddess find ; Not seeing her will almost break my heart, And getting at her almost break my wind. Never did body trifle so with mind ! So raised its projects, and so knocked them flat ! Never was amorous lump of human kind So self-suspended between this and that ; So goaded by the flesh, so hindered by the fat r Fair Agnes fear'd not that censorious talk Could ever by Eudoxus be inspired ; He look'd a lamb, before he took a walk, And dead as mutton, wx^ary, and bemired. Yet in her jacket, a la Suh'se, attired, So plump and tempting was the blue-eyed maid, A hermit's frio-id breast she mio-ht have fired ! Beneath a plain straw-hat her ringlets play'd, And a short petticoat her well-turn''d leg betray'd. Eudoxus, squatting in a cushioned chair. Gave her that interesting glance which owns • A double feeling, and woukl fain declai'e Tlie heart is full of love, the shoes of stones. His tender sighs, inflating into groans. Were debts, as in a partnership concern, Due, jointly, both to bosom and to bones ; And seem'd to say, " Sweet lady ! let me learn, AMiether in vain I ache, and pant, and grunt, and burn !" 28 THE GOOD-rELLOw"'s CALENDAR. In vain they questioned ; for the fair pursued Ker prattle, which on Uterature flowYl ; Now changed her author, now her attitude, And much more symmetry than learning show'd. Eudoxus watch'd her features, while they glow'd Till passion burst his puffy bosom''s bound ; And, rescuing his cushion from its load, Flounced on his knees, appearing like a round liarge fillet of hot veal just tumbled on the ground. Could such a lover be with scorn repulsed ? Oh, no ! disdain befitted not the case ; And Agnes, at the sight, was so convulsed. That tears of laughter trickled down her face. Eudoxus felt his folly and disgrace ; Looked sheepish — nettled — wish'd himself away; And thrice he tried to quit his kneeling place, But fat and corpulency seem\l to say. Here's a petitioner that must for ever pray ! " Mon Dieu .'"" said Agnes, "what absurd distress f How long must you maintain this posture here .?" " Ah! that,''' he sigli'd, " depends on the success Of your endeavours, more than mine, I fear. Get up I cannot, by myself, 'tis clear ; But, though my poor pretensions you despise, Full many a man is living, lady dear ! Whose talents, as a lover, rather lies In readiness to kneel than readiness to rise,'* JAXUARY. 29 Again he strain'd, again he stuck like wax, While Agnes tugg'd at him, in various ways ; But he was heavier than the income-tax, And twenty times more difficult to raise. She fear'd that scandal would the story blaze ; Yet, hopeless, rang the bell; — the servant came, And eyed the prostrate lover with amaze ; Then heaved upon his legs the man whose name Is lifted up so high by never-dying fome. Eudoxus, fretted with the morn's romance. Opined while he was waddling to the plain, Himself no wiser than that king of France [again. Who march 'd up hill, and then marcliM down He found that he had striven against the grain ; That suffering love within his breast to lurk Brought " labour," which by no means " physic'd That beauties, who on eminences perk, [pain;" Make courtship, for the fat, a very up-hill work. 17th — S't. Antlioni/s Dmj. L.\DY IMoRGAN thus dcscribcs a picture in the Borghese Palace, at Rome, representing St. Anthony preaching to the fishes: " The salmon looks at the preacher with an edified face, and a cod, witli his up-turned eyes, seems anxiously seeking for the new Tight. The Saint's sermon is to be had in many of the shops at Rome. St. Anthony addresses the fish, ' Dearly beloved fish ;' and the legend adds, 30 TiiK good-fellow's calendar. tliat, at the conclusion of the discourse, ' the fish bowed to him with profound humiUty, and a grave and reHgious countenance.' Tlie Saint then gave the fish his blessing, who scudded away to make new conversions:" — these 'piscatory clericals may not, we think, be inaptly termed — the Missionaries of the main. nst—iim. James Quin, whom Garrick's epitaph describes as having so oft " set the table in a roar," died at that seat of Beauty and Invalids, — Eath. Quin was, decidedly, a wit of the first order; and, as might be conjectured, his witticisms and jcii iVespj'its have, fortunately for his fame, descended to posterity, clad in all the richness of detail with which he adorned them. From the mass we select the following, which we think cannot fail to gratify every lover of the ludicrous. The Tragedian being asked if he had ever Ijeen in Scotland, and how he liked the people, replied : " If you mean the lower order of them, I shall be at a loss to answer you ; for I had no farther ac- (juaintancc with them than by the smell. As for the nobility they are numerous ; and, for the most part, proud and beggarly. I remember, when I crossed from the North of Ireland into their country, I came to a little wretched village, consisting of a dozen huts, in the style of tiic Hottentots ; the principal JANUARY. 31 of wiilcli was an inn, and kept by an Earl. I was mounted on a shrivelled quadruped, for there was no certainty of calling it horse, mare, or gelding- ; much hke a Nortli Wales goat, but larger, and without horns. The whole village was up in an instant to salute me; supposing, from tlie elegance of my appearance, that I must be some person of a large fortune and great family. The Earl ran, and took hold of my stirrup while I dismounted ; then turning to his eldest son, who stood by us without breeches, said, '' j\ly Lord , do you take the gentle- man''s horse to the stabki, and desire your sister. Lady Betty, to draw him a pint of hco-pcnny ; for I suppose so great a mon will ha"" the best liquor in ihc 'wholJwns.'''' — " I was obliged," continued Quin, " to stay here a whole night, and to make a supper on rotten potatoes and stinking eggs. The old no- bleman was indeed very complaisant, and made me accept of iiis own bed. I cannot say that the dormitory was the best in the world : for there was nothing but an old box to sit upon in the room, and there were neither sheets nor curtains to the bed. Lady Betty was kind enough to apologise for the apartment, assuring rne, many persons of grt;)t degnatfj had frequently slept in it ; and that tiiouuh the blankets Inked sue bloek, it was not quUe four years sin they had been washed by the countess, her mother, and Lady ^Matilda Carolina Amelia Eleonora Sophia, one of her younger sisters. 82 THE good-fellow's calendar. She then wished me a good night, and said, the Viscount, her brother, would take particular care to grease my boots.'''' The following lines, from the pen of his brilliant contemporary, Garrick, we cannot refuse inser- tion to : — QUINTS SOLILOQUY ON SEEING THE EMBALMED BODY OF DUKE HUMPHREY. A plague on Egypt''s arts, I say : Embalm the dead, — on senseless clay Rich wine and spices waste ; Like sturgeon, or like brawn shall I, Bound in a precious pickle lie, Which I can never taste ! Let me embalm this flesh of mine, With turtle fat and Bourdeaux wine, And spoil the Egyptian trade. Than Glostcr's duke more happy I ; Embalm''d alive old Quin shall die, A mummy ready made. FEBRUARY. C/A— 1685. Charles II. died at Whitehall. Soon after the Rye-house plot was discovered, thinking to be severe on the character of his brother, FEBRUARY. 33 he exhibited a striking feature of his own. The Duke, one clay, returning from hunting with his guards, found the King in Hyde Park. He ex- pressed his surprise how His IVIajesty eould venture his person alone at such a perilous time. " James,"" replied the King, " take you care of yourself, and I am safe. No man will kill me to make you king !'' 12M— 1815. The following is a gemihie, serious advertise- ment, taken verbatim ct literatim from the " Raleigh Star," of the date affixed, where it stands placed with the figure of a ruiming away negro prefixed to it. Caleb Quotem, so renowned in farce, scarcely equalled the subject of this advertisement in the variety and whimsical nature of his accomplishments. " T-iK'entij-five Dollars Rczcard. " Ran away from Raleigh, a month or two ago, a mulatto man, named Anthcmy^ well known in Raleigh, and many parts of the State, as having l)een, for several years, the body servant of General Jones, and mine lately as a pressman and news- carrier in the Star office. Anthony is about twenty- five or twenty-six years of age, five feet eight or ten inches high, is a mongrel white, has a tolerably large aquiline nose, bushy hair, a scar on one of his cheeks; when in good humour has a pleasing coun- tenance. c 5 34 THE good-fellow's calendak. " He works and v/alks fast, is lively and talkative, full of anecdote, which he tells in character with much humour ; is an excellent pressman, indifferent at distiibuting types, a tolerable carpenter and joiner, a plain painter, an excellent manager of horses, drives well and rides elegantly, having been accustomed to race riding ; is fond of cock-fighting (and of man-fighting when drunk), and is said to heel and pit with skill ; he can bleed and pull teeth, knows something of medicines, is a rough barber, a bad but conceited cook, a good sawyer, can lay bricks, has worked in the corn fields, and can scratch a little on the fiddle. " He can do many other things ; and what he cannot do, he pretends to have a knowledge of. His trades and qualities are thus detailed, because his vanity will undoubtedly lead to a display of them. His master-vice, or rather, the parent of all his vices, is a fondness for strong dr'ml:, though sometimes he will abstain for months. His clothes cannot be described, but he carried away few or none, and 'tis expected will appear shabbily. He is an artful fellow, and if taken up will tell a most plausible story, and possibly shew a forged pass." IT^A— 1821. Charles Phillips, of the Irish bar, was called to the English bar by the Society of the Middle Temple. FEBRUARY, 35 The followinop ludicrous imitation of his alUfe- rat'ive millinerij of eloquence, and absurd oratorical flights, will, we think, excite laughter, should they even be perused by his admirers. " When I look around me, and above me, and below me, and dizzily ponder over the tide of time, which, rolling through this elevated edifice, sweeps the mighty and tlie mean to one common bourne ; whence, as the poet of nature informs us, no tra- veller returns ; — when I reflect that the court which I now address, nay, perhaps the very segment of the seat I now occupy, was heretofore enlightened by that Aurora Borealis of legal effulgence, which formed a halo on the brows of a Dunning and a ]\Iansfield, I feel rooted with terror to the ground, and paralysed in my lower extremities, like the marble-thiu-hed monarcli in the Arabian Tales. Would to heaven that the red-haired founder of this venerable hall had snatched TyrelTs dart from his own bosom, and plunged it into mine, ere I had essayed this office ! But the different epochs of our existence check the wish. My lords, my client, the plaintiff, is of that useful class of beings, who give broad cloth to the back — serge to the stomach — buckmm to the body — thickset to the thigh ! His manners are modest — his conduct is creditable — his shop is showy — and his residence is llatcliffe. Tlie defendant is an officer of dras-oons, recently drawn from the purlieus of Fall-mall, and quartered at S6 THE GOOD-FELLOw''s CALENDAR. Hounslow. Luckily for him, the days of drawing and quartering are over, or wrongs hke my chent's might justify the corporeal partition. " It might be accident — it might be design, which caused Captain Sabretache, on a visit to the Wap- ping Docks, to lounge over Hatcliffe Highway. Attracted by these words, ' Serge, Tailor and Habit Maker,' he halted at the plaintiff's door. An elegant pelisse, with arms extended, hung swinging at the door-post — he entered the shop, and with a blandishment well suited to the perfidy of his pur- pose, he ordered a pelisse of the same workmanship and materials. The superb ornament started, like the web of Arachne, from the fingers of the plain- tiffs journeymen ; and on Monday week following, the defendant issued from the Hounslow barracks, the envy and admiration of his booted brethren. His collar was of sable fur. ' Get me a suit of sables,' cried he ; but when he would have added, ' The Devil xvears hlach^ the demon of darkness stuck in his throat. " My Lords, you are (and long may you continue to be) clad in the robes of office, and you know -whaxfur is. When you reflect that the pelisse was^ of extra superfine French brown ; that bands of braid were buttoned on the bosom, with a fork of ditto, behind ; that the side-seams were finely and fully figured ; that the tassels were tamboured; and that frogs, presumptuous as those of Pharaoh, en- FEBRUARY. S7 veloped the deferulant, fi'om cliitterlin to thine; you will not, I am sure, elevate your eyebrows N\ith extra astonishment, when you learn that the price cleniandetl was seventeen pounds fourteen shillings and sixpence. The plaintiff was pressing — the defendant was dunned ; but cash not being forth- coming, the plaintiff drew a bill of exchange for the amount, which the defendant accepted, payable at Messrs. Child and Company's, Temple Bar. " The bill was presented when due, and was noted for non-payment. God forbid that I should impute any blame to Messrs. Child and Company ! — Their answer was, ' no effects;"' and, after sedulous inquiry, I find, that when a man has no money in a banker''s hands, such banker is not bound to pay his drafts. This, my Lords, the defendant must have known. His acceptance, therefore, was a mockery of the clothes merchant; — it was buttering the bacon of baseness; — it was thrusting the red-hot poker of })ertness into the already blazing conflagration of my client's grievances. The defendant had now thrown away the scabbard, and the plaintiff had drawn the sword. He issued out a writ, in the name of George the Fourth, of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland ; — Ireland in its un- fathomed caves of despotism ; that hapless tin kettle, doomed to be eternally appurtenant to the tail of the dog of war. — A declaration was filed, cautiously containing counts of goods sold and delivered, and 3S THE good-fellow's calendar. for work and labour done, witli a notice to plead in eight days. Even now the plaintiff did more than by legal courtesy he was bound to perform. He demmided a plea — how primitive the process ! — otherwise judgment — how awful the alternative ! " This was contumeliously contemned; it was treat- ed as Bruttnn Fulmen. But the plaintiff, my lords, was no mimic Jove, bantering and blustering from a bridge of brass ; Serge, and not Salmonens, was the antagonist whom the defendant v/as to cope v.'ith. The bolt was hurled, and interlocutory judgment was signed for want of a plea. At this stage of the proceedings, the plaintiff's attorney put into my inexperienced hands, an afHdavit of the course of action. The motion he wished me to submit to your lordships, w'as novel and arduous. Seniors in silk, and puisnes in prunella, would have shrunk from its experiment. But, full of my client's wrongs, and swelling like the sybil with my subject, even so humble an individual as myself now ven- tures to move your lordships — that it may be re- ferred to the master, to compute principal and interest on tlie bill of exchange upon which this action is brought ! ! ! " 19/7^—1815. " The Clonmel Herald" of this date presents its readers with the following detail : — " Sunday se'nnight was appointed for the mar- FEBKUARV. 89 riage of the daughter of an opulent fiirmer, named Dalton, near Cloghleigh. — Tlic friends were bidden, and the priest was there, and the intended bride- groom — and ample store of entertainment for them all ; when a young fellow, named Jemmy Erien, headed a ])arty, of whom fourteen or fifteen well armed, accompanied him ; leaving a few outside as sentries, suddenly entered die house, announcing his name and his purpose. — ' Here I am, boys, Jemmy Brien ; nor shall any other ever get this girl, (naming her, and taking hold of her,) for she's engaged to me.' It does not appear that the damsel made any great struggle ; and she was lianded out, to the astonishment of the host and his guests, who were terrified by fourteen or fifteen guns and blunder- busses staring them in the faces. After gaping awhile at one another, the company unanimously agreed, that the loss of the girl would be much aggravated by that of the supper, to which they resortjd for consolation, with most vigorous ap- petite." James Baruv, the painter, died. At one period of his life, he resided in a little house, in Little St. Martin's Lane, with no com- panions but a venerable cat, and an old Irish woman, who served him in the capacity oi factotum. He was too much of the Stoic ])hiloso})her to be over 40 THE GO0D-FELL0w''s CALENDAR. solicilous in the articles of furniture, or the style of neatness; and his housekeeper was of a character little disposed to annoy him by the troublesome o})erations of domestic cleanliness. His time was chiefly spent in the company of a few excellent pictures, and a few choice books, chiefly histories, enveloped, like himself, in smoke and dust; his culinary operations were of a piece Avith the rest ; and in his ardour for his favourite pursuits, so far was he from being a man who lived only to eat, that he scarcely ate to live. Sauntering one day alone in St. James'^s Park, he accidentally met Burke, who accosted him in a most kind and friendl}' manner ; expressing much \)\ea- sure on seeing him, and gently chiding him for not having called to see him for so many years. Barry, with great freedom and cheerfulness, recognised their old ac(juaintance and friendship in earlier years ; but he said it was a maxim with him, when any of his old friends soared into regions so far above his sphere, seldom to trouble them with his visits or obsolete recollections ; he considered there- fjre his old friend Burke, as now too great a maji for intercourse with a groundling like himself. Mr. Burke, rather hurt at this unmerited taunt, (for no man was less proud, more kind, or assumed so little on the score of rank and talents,) pressed Barry to a friendly visit at his house : but Barry insisted on precedence in the march of hospiiality, and invited FEBRUARY. 41 the statesman to come next day, and take with him a friendly beef-steak, at his house in Little St. Martin's Lane; to which Mr. Burke agreed, and kept his appointment. When he rapped at the door, however. Dame Ursula, who opened it, at first denied that her master Avas at home ; but on JNIr. Burke's expressing some surprise, and an- nouncing his name, Barry overheard his voice, and ran down stairs in the usual trim of abstracted genius, utterly regardless of his personal appear- ance : his scanty grey hair, unconscious of the comb, sported in disordered ringlets round his head ; a greasy green silk shade over his eyes, served as an auxiliary to a pair of horn-mounted spectacles, to strengthen his vision. His linen was none of the whitest), and a sort of roquelaure served the purposes of a robe de chamhrc ; but it was of the composite order, for it was neither yocA7/-coa^, surtout, pcUsse, nor tunic, but a mixture of all four ; and the chro- ■nologij (jf it might have puzzled the Society of Antiquarians to develope. After a welcome greeting, he conducted his eloquent countryman to his dwel- linJu7-ivff manager announced his fair client to the world ! — She performed ; and the consequence was, that crowds ran to witness her performance; the conjuror contrived to pocket the cash ; and the public was pleased with his decep- tions. The plaintiff, however, now complained of a species of deception, which he had neither inserted in his bills, nor, indeed, in the agreement which he had entered into with her. He had turned her from the theatre, after performing two or three weeks, and refused to fullil his engagement. The learned gentleman read a variety of hand-bills and bills of performance. Among them was one in which the defendant challenged that " lump of arro- gance^'' Mr. Ingleby, (who had denominated himself Emperor of the Conju7'ors) to a trial of sMll in the art of deceptions, for the sum of three hun- dred ffuineas.'''' He had not only challenged him, liut had gone further, and bid the world enter the lists with him — a second Buonaparte in point of decej)tion. — After making some farther observations, he proceeded to prove his case, and called evidence to establish the facts of the engagement at the stipu- lated sum of two guineas and a half per week ; — that she was ordered on the 23rd of November to quit FILBRUARY. 47 tlie theatre, and never come there again ; and also, that she had offered her services to fulfil die cn- ga;-wonmn : CKeefe's works to a NJethodist parson; a complete set of John Bull to Alderman Wood ; a Greek gi-ammar to a stock-broker ; and a Chapel of Ease to a servant-maid of all work. 4 p. ji. — Dinner. Asked Jack IMitten to take a glass of sherry, and poked vinegar cruet into his paw. Made him sputter out lic^uid, like lion's head at Aldgate pump. Swore it was all his own doing, and, for once, got believed. Told wife I had been at Batson's; was asked by her wliat news ? Answered, the French had taken um- brao-e. " More fools the Spaniards," replied Mrs. Gander, " for not fortifying it better." Noise at front door. Sam Snaffle in a line taking at my hoax in t!ic morning ; swore he would not quit the house till I had paid him for his one inside : paid him eighteen pence, and as he threatened to have me " pulled up,'^ gave him another shilling to drink my health. 5 p. M. — Polite note from Lawyer Lynx, telling n)e that hoaxing an attorney was felony at common law, and that he meant to indict me at the ensuing Old Bailey Sessions, unless I paid costs in ])obbs v. Shuffle, according to enclosed account. Perused bill ; '* Attending plaintiff by appointment, wlien 86 THE good-fellow's CALENDAR. he asked me how I did — six and eight pence : attending, answering him, pretty middling — six and eight pence, &c. &c. ; total, fifteen pounds eighteen." Damned all pettifoggers, and gave bearer a check for the amount. Muffin-rnan with bell : bawled out, " Muffins !" and bobbed. Aimed at Perrywinkle with a pea-shooter ; and chalked " Mangling done here,"" upon Slice, the Surgeon's window shutter. Visit from a bowing, and head-bob- bing waiter from the " City of London Tavern :" " Beg pardon, Sir, but here's the bill, Sir." "What bill !" " Mr. Jolter, Sir, and Mr. Scraggs, Sir, them as you April-Pooled this morning, met and compared notes. Sir ; knew your hand ; went to my master's tavern together, " City of London," Sir; ordered your own dinner. Sir ; turde and roast hare for two, Sir, and told me to bring you the bill, Sir." Swore I would not pay it: looked out of window, and saw Jolter and Scraggs walking up and down by the Wandsworth coach stand, and flourish- ing a brace of horsewhips. Set it down for no joke, and told waiter to call to-morrow for his m.oney. 6 r. M. — Tea and toast. Determined to play the fool no more, not quite approving of the expense. Put on velvet cap and slip])ers. Made a leg arm chair for little Nancy. Wife busy, reading " Dr. Kitchener's Cookery;" and Laetitia deep in "Feveril of the Peak," with her legs up on the sofa. Rat-a-tat at front door, loud enough to wake the defunct Sir APRIL. 87 Thomas Grcsham. Rattle and slap of a hackney coach step. — Hearts sunk withni us. Rustling of silk gown on the stii.:. Little Nancy dispatched as a light troop, to watch the enemy's motions ; rushed back, exclaiming with an awful face, " Mrs. Deputy Kilderkin." General scramble to hide objectionablcs ; buttered toast, piled up like planks in a deal yard, chucked into the cupboard. "Peveril" canted into the coal scuttle ; bowl of brown sugar carefully crammed into table drawer, and best lump substituted ; Lcetitia's legs put perpendicular, and Wife's vinegar visage varnished with a proper coat- ing; of sweet oil to s^'cct visitor. Parlour door opened ; enter, Mrs. Deputy Kilderkin. 7 P. M. — Bows and smiles. Coffee and hard rusks. Found we had been hoaxed. Card, in wife's name, inviting !Mrs. Kilderkin, apologising for short notice, but mentioning that Mr. Bochsa aiul his thirteen harps could not be had on any other evening. Suspected Alderman Arrowroot, and vowed to be even with him this day twelve months. Listened to a deal of hioh life from Mrs. Kilderkin and daugliter Laetitia. Comparative merits of Miss Taylor of the Circus, and IVIiss Brunton, of the West London : glass curtain at the Cobourg : IMr. and jNIrs. Fitzwilliam : monthly assemblv at the Horns, Kenninn-ton : the new turn- pike in the Borough Road, and what a different thing Trinity Square was from old Tower Hill 8S THE good-fellow's CALENDAR. Nodded assent with my cyer, shut : wife kicked my shins tc keep me awake. 8 p. M.-— Music, ]VIrs. Ifilderkin and Lsetitia went through the orthodox routine. Mrs. Kil- derkin swore she had no voice, and La^titia only wished she had half so good a one. Laetitia vowed she could not finger a note ; and Mrs. Kilderkin said, if she could only play a quarter as well, she should think herself a finished performer. — Preli- minaries thus adjusted, both sat down together, and thumped " Overture to Lodoiska," till the poor piauo tremWed on its legs. 9 P. M. — Whist. Wife and I against Lastitia and Deputy's lady. Head running upon take-in of tavern bill : missed deal with queen of diamonds at bottom : wife kicked my left shin. — Second deal : at my old tricks : asked Mrs. Kilderkin, if she had heard the news ? Answered, " No ; what news ?" Told her that " Ferdinand had dissolved the Cortes in hot water." Played a spade, and tliought it was a trump : another kick from wife. Licked my thumb to deal better, and got a third kick. 10 r. M. — Whist afi^aln ; seats changed to change luck. Long dispute between Mrs. Kilderkin and Mrs. Gander ; the one asserting that Lord Byron should never marry a daughter of hers, and the other, that he should. Head bothered by Beppo, Mazeppo, and Alep])o. Trumped my partner's lead. Fourth kick from wife, luckily intercepted APRIL. 89 by Mrs. Kilderkin's off-ancle. Wife begged pardon. Another rat-tat-tat, and another rattle and slap from hackney coach step, announced the arrival of ]\!rs. I>epaty"'3 equipage : bows and courtesies ; shawls, simpers, and ceremonious exit; I\Irs. Kilderkin vowing, Yvidi a yawn, that she had never past a pleasanter evening. 11 P.M. — Bed candles. One made by me, con- sisting of a round pole of cut turnip, tipped with charcoal, unluckily selected by my wife. Much poking with snuffers before the trick was detected — Glance of vengeance; exit wife up stairs, husband following. 12 ¥. M. — Listened to curtain lecture fifty-nine minutes, and then fell asleep. lO^A— 1820. In a newspaper of this date which edifies the sun- burnt residents of one of our West India Islands, is inserted the following specimen of— A FUNERAL SERMON, rREACHEI> BY SAJI QUACO, A BLACK CLEUGY.AIAN, NATIVE OF JAMAICA. A man dat bon ob a woman, hab not long time to lib; he troble ebery day too much : he grow up like a plantin — he cut down like a banana. — Pose tie man do good, he get good ; pose de man do bad, he get bad : pose he do good, he go to de place call him Glolio, where Goramity stans upon a top, and Deb- bie on a bottom ; pose he do bad, he go to de place call him Hell, where he mot burn like a pepper-con ; 90 THE good-fellow's CALEXDAR. he call for a drink of wara, no man give him a drop of wara to cool him dam-tongue. Tan breren, you know one man dey call Sampson, he kill twenty tousan Philistans, wid de jawbone Jack morass. Tan you know tora man, call Jonas he swallow Whale : he mugin, be hell ob a fellow for fish : and tora man, , he name King George, he lib at tora side a wara ; he hab a ting on the head, call him Crown — a grand ting — all same corn basket ; So breren, Goramity bless you all. Amen. J5^A— 1776. Rev. John Granger, author cf the " Biogra- phical History of England," died. In the year 1773, he published a sermon on " The Nature and Extent of Industry," which hs dedicated to his parishioners, in the following dedi- cation. " To the inhabitants of the parish of Ship- lake, who neglect the service of the church, and spend the Sabbath in the worst kind of idleness^ this plain sermon, which they never heard, and probably will never read, is inscribed by their sincere well- Avisher and faithful minister, James Granger." t 16^/i— 1776. The following matrimonial advertisement, which exceeds, in our opinion, any thing ever before or since made public, appeared in the " Public Adver- tiser" of this date : — APRIL. 91 " A Gentleman ^vho hath filled two succccdhig seats in rarliament, is nearly sixty years of age, lives in great splendour and hospitality, and from whom a considerable estate must pass if he dies with- out issue, hath no objection to marry any widow or single lady, provided the party be of genteel birth, polite manners, and five, six, seven, or eight months advanced in her pregnancy. — Letters addressed to Brecknock, Esq. at Will's Coffee House, facing the Admiralty, will be honoured with due attention, secrecy, and every possible mark of respect." The above is taken from the celebrated Captain Grose's collection of Advertisements, published in 178-3, from which amusing volume we also add the following, extracted from the " Daily Advertiser"" of 1777 :— " Matrimony. — Wanted, by a young gentleman just beginning house-keeping, a lady, between eighteen and twenty-five years of age, with a good education, and a fortune not less than 5,000/. ; sound wind and limb, five feet four inches w ithout her shoes ; not fat, nor yet too lean ; a clear skin ; sweet breatli, with good set of teeth ; no pride, nor affectation ; not very talkative, nor one that is deemed no ccold ; but of a spirit to resent an affront ; of a charitable disposition ; not over fond of dress, thoufjh alwavs decent and clean ; that will entertain her husband's friends with affability and cheerfulness, and prefer his company to public 9^ THE GOOE-FELLOW'S CALENDAR. diversions and gadding about ; one who can keep his secrets, that he may open his heart to her with- out reserve on all occasions ; that can extend domestic expenses with economy, as prosperity advances, without ostentation; and retrench them with cheerfuhiess, if occasion should require. "Any lady disposed to matrimony, answering this description, is desired to direct for Y. Z. at the Baptist's Head Coffee-House, Aldermanbury. *' N.B. None but principals will be treated with, nor need any apply that are deficient in any one particular: the gentleman can make adequate return, and is, in every respect, deserving a lady with the above qualifications." One of the most amusing, however, in the collec- tion, and which the Captain declares was written by the Mayor of one of our Universities, soliciting subscriptions for the purchase of a fire-engine, v»'e cannot refrain from transcribing, on account of the originality of style, and forcible reasoning, displayed by the " worshipful" author : — " Whereas, a multiplicity of dangers are often- incurred by damage of outrageous accidents by fire ; we, v/hose names are undersigned, have thought proper that the benefit of an Engine, bought by us, for the better extinguishing of which, by the acci- dents of Almighty God, may unto us happen, to make a rate to gather benevolence for the better propagating such useful instruments." APRIL. 93 George Frederick Cooke, the celebrated tra- gedian, born. This extraordinary and highly-gifted individual, who took such uncommon pains to shorten his ex- istence, and destroy his talents, has, by his eccen- tric and 13ac(;hanalian freaks, furnished the lovers of facetious ana, with a series of vagaries almost unparalleled. Cooke appears to have found a very faithful biographer in the gentleman who concocted the two octavo volumes of his hfe, as he details his drunken adventures and half-drunken witticisms in the most candid and captivating manner imaginable; so much so that we are really fearful new-fledged tragedians — " Richards" and " lagos'' — in swaddling-clothes, may be induced to do — " As jovial Cooke, whose thirsty soul Quaff'd inspiration from the bowl, Whene'er his heart did falter ; — His grief and joy, his love and ire. Were born of Bacchus ; and their fire Were stolen from his altar.'"* The celebrated Charles Mathews, when very young in his profession, belonged to the Dublin Company, and lodged in the same house with Cooke. One night, after play and farce, in the 94) THE good-fellow's CALENDAR. latter, INIathcws having played Mordccai, to Cooke's Sir Archy, and to the satisfaction of the veteran, was invited by him to take supper in his room, tete-a-tete, and drink wliiskey punch. This high honour was gratefully received and accepted by the young comedian, who anticipated both pleasure and instruction from the society of the celebrated actor. Supper over, and Cooke's spirits elevated, the fa- tigues of the evening were forgotten : he was pleased with his young companion, whose tongue, freed from all shackles by the smoking liquor, glibly poured forth those praises which Cooke's superior talents prompted. One jug of whiskey punch was quickly emptied ; and while drinking the second, George Frederick, in his turn, begins to commend young Mathews : — " You are young, and want some one to advise and guide you ; take my word for it, there is no- thing like industry and sobriety — Mrs. Burns ! another jug of whiskey punch, Mrs. Burns — you make it so good, Mrs. Burns ; another jug." " Yes, Mr. Cooke." " In our profession, my young friend, dissipation is too apt to be the bane of youth ; — villanous company, low company, leads them from studying their business, and acquiring that knowledge which alone can make them respectable." Thus he proceeded, drinking and uttering advice (not the less valuable because in opposition to his APfilL. 95 own practice), and assuring IMathews of his pro- tection, instruction, and all his influence, to forward his views, while the whiskey punch, jug after jug, vanished ; and with it all semblance of the virtues so eloquently praised. Though maddened by the fumes of the liquor, the chain of his ideas continued still unbroken ; and he began a dissertation on the histrionic art, proceeding from first principles to a detail of the mode of exhibiting the passions, with a specimen of each by way of illustration. It is impossible to describe, but the reader may perhaps imagine, the ludicrous effect of this scene. The power of the whiskey, operating in diametric opposition to the will, on his strong and flexible fea- tures, produced contortions and distortions, of which he was insensible, while Mathews sat gazing with astonishment, and, at times, in an agony, from the effort to restrain his risible faculties ; but to add to his torture, Cooke began to question him, after each " horrible face," as to the meaning of it, or the pas- sion expressed. Mathews, totally in the dark as to Coolie's meaning, made every possible mistake; and when set right by Cooke, excused himself by charging his stupidity on the whiskey. " There !— what's that r " Very fine, Sir." " But what'is'w.?'" " O — anger — anger, to be sure." " To be sui'c youVe a blockhead — Fear ! fear. Sir !" 96 THE good-fellow's CALENDAR. But when the actor, after making a hideous face, compounded of Satanic malignity and the brutal leering of a drunken satyr, told his pupil that that was love, poor Mathews could resist no longer, but roared with convulsive laughter. Cooke was surprised and enraged at this rude- ness in his young guest, but IMathews had address enough to pacify him. Mistress Burns, in the mean time, had protested against making any more whiskey punch, and had brought up the last jug, upon Cooke's solemn pro- mise that he would ask for no more. The jug is finished ; and Mathews, heartily tired, thinks he shall escape from his tormentor, and makes a move to go. " Not yet, my dear boy : one jug more." " It's very late. Sir.'' " Only one more." " Mistress Burns will not let us have it." " Wo'nt she ? I'll shew you that presently." Cooke thunders with his foot; and vociferates repeatedly — " Mistress Burns !" At length honest Mrs. Burns, who had got to bed, in hopes of rest, in the chamber immediately under them, answers — " What is it you want, Mister Cooke .?" " Another jug of whiskey punch, Mistress Burns." " Indeed, but you can have no more, Mister Cooke." " Indeed, but I will. Mistress Burns." " Remember your promise, Mister Cooke." Al'UlL. 9'7 *' Another jucj of punch, IMistrcss Burns.'" " Indeed, and I will not get out of my own bed anymore at all, ]Mistcr Cooke ; and so there's an end of it !" " We'll see that, ]Mistress I^urn?,."" ^^'hen, to IVIatiiows's further astonishment, he seized the ]\i^, and smashed it on the floor, over the head of Mhtress Burns, exclaiming, — " Do you hear that, Mistress Burns?*" " Yes, I do. Mister Cooke." He then proceeded to break the chairs, one by one ; after each, exclaiming, — " Do you hear that, Mrs. Burns .^"" and receiving in reply — " Ves, I do. Mister Cooke; and you'll be very sorry for it, to-morrow ; so you will." He then opened the window, and very deliberately pi'oceedcd to throw the looking-glasses into the street, and the fragments of broken tables and chairs. Mathews had made several attempts to go, and had lx}en detained by Cooke : he now ventured some- thing like an t'Xjiostulation ; on which his Mcnk>r ordered him out of his apartment, and threw the candle and candlestick after him. Mathews, havinii departed, Cooke sallied forth ; and was brought home the next day, beaten and deformey these threats, Petruchio bethought himself of the advice of Hudibras — " He who fights, and runs aAvay, May live to fight another day."" Heedless of the strangeness of his dress, he in- stantly slipped down the back stairs, and sought APRIL. 99 refuge in one of the obscure alleys behind the Thea- tre. It was then just twelve o'clock, and as Cooke had rambled out of the hii^h street, he did not even encounter a watchman asleep on his post. The sounds of woe, issuing with strange solemnity from an humble hut, presently attracted his attention ; they proceeded from an assemblage of persons, who (according to a custom still continued in the southern parts of Ireland, on the death of a relation, or even acquaintance) were assembled round a dead body, chaunting a dismal song, or howl, in full chorus. The reader must bear in mind the broad brinmied hat, and whimsical dress of Petruc?iio, and that, most likely, not one individual in that place had ever seen a ]:)lay ; imagine, then, if possible, the wonder and horror of the poor simple souls, when George Frederick applied his shoulder to the slender wicket of the cabin, plunged into the midst of the groupe, sword in hand, oversetting those he first encountered, and advancing up to the foot of the bed, on which the body of an old woman was placed, exclaiming, in his own rough way, with his eyes distended to the utmost extent by intoxication — " How now, ye secret black and midnight hags, What is't ye do ?'' Thunderstruck by the figure of the apparition, and the tones which proceeded from it, some of the mourners sought shelter under the bed ; odiers crept 100 THE good-fellow's CALENDAR. half way up the chimney, while the remainder sallied out into the lane, praying, most fervently, to be re- leased from the visitation of the D — 1, for a human hcing none could suppose Cooke, who, left alone with the shrivelled remains of the old peasant, taking her parchment-coloured hand, pathetically exclaimed — " O, my love ! my wife ! Death that hath suck"'d the honey of thy breath, Hath had no power yet upon thy beauty. Tiiou art not conquered — beauty's ensign yet Is crimson on thy lips."— " Beauty ! — no, hang me, if it is though ; A vaunt, thou horrid spectre ! ' " But stop," said Cooke, for his eye at that instant rested on a jug of whiskey punch, smoking in the chimney corner; — he eagerly grasped the handle and eried, " Here's to my love !" The affrighted company took by degrees a little courage, ventured, one by one, to peep through the key-hole, and then observing Cooke had thrown away his sword, returned into the apartment, when he, in order to encourage them, exclaimed — " Don't fear me ; 'tis only George Frederick Cooke ; come, sit down, I'll smoke Avith you, drink with you, aye, and pray with you, my jolly lads and lasses." TIius re-assured, George Frederick became a great fa- APRIL. 101 vourite with them, and revelled in tlie dehghts of tobacco and whiskey, " until his eye-lids could no longer wag."" He was then quietly placed on the bed with his imaginary Juliet, until the next morn- ing, when he was discovered in his retreat, and con- veyed home to his lodmnfrs in a sedan chair. He " shufHed off this mortal coil" in New York, September 2G, 1811, which, when stated in the American newspapers, produced, from some poetic correspondent, the following, proposed EPITAPH. Ye sons of Bacchus, cast one look ; Here lies your friend, George Frederick Cooke, (A thirstier soul was never) : Still he'd have whecPd the lush about, Had Time not said, — " Your glass is out ;"' And quench'd his thirst for ever. 22 J— 1823. The folloAving delectable display of true conjugal felicity, this morning obtruded itself on the notice of the " potent, grave, and reverend" ministering sons of Justice, who grace the elbow-chairs of Boa\- strcet : — :Mrs. :Mary Scarsfield made her dtbid in this quarter, attended by a constable, who deposed that he found her bestriding her prostrate husband, ^'*yi"gj ^^ '^tli all her might to choak him by twisting his neckcloth. [Mrs. Scarsfield Had something so 102 THE GOOD-FELLO\v''s CALEXDAR. very tennagantish in her appearance, that it was evident to every bod}^, she would consider the choak- ing of half a dozen husbands a mere trifle. Her age might be about forty-five; her person was tall^ and very thin ; her skin like wet parchment ; her mouth wide ; her lips blue, and shrivelled ; her nose flat ; her eyes blood-shot, and almost as prominent as a lobster's ; and there she stood, with folded arms and scowling brows, . in J'ull-proqf scorn of the event — *' A combination and a form, indeed ! Where every Jury seem'd to set her seal, To give the world assurance of a shre'w^'' Her husband, Mr. Scarsfield, was quite as meagre in person as herself, but he seemed a very harmless sort of fellow; and, poor man, he seemed sadly moiled with his matrimonial miseries. He had been wedded to Mrs. Scarsfield twenty-six years, he said, and it was God's mercy she had not destroyed liim long ago ; instead of loving him, honouring him, and obeying, as in duty bound, she ruled him witli a rod of iron, drank him out of house and home, kept him always poor, and made his life so miser- able, that, at one time, he Avent into the army as a common soldier, in the hope that " some friendly ball*" would put an end to his troubles and his life together. The Magistrate desired liim to confine himself to the affray. " Your Worship," said he. APRIL. 103 " last Saturday night I was sitting by the fire v.ith my wife, talkiiin- tolerably quiet, and, at last, about ten o"'clock, jMary, said I, I think I'll go to bed. She made no reply, and I went to bed ; and v, hat- ever possessed her I know not, more than the child unborn ; but I hadn^ been in bed many minutes, before she rushed into the room, and pulled me, bed, bedstead, and all, slap into the middle of the room. Lord bless you, Sir ! chairs, tables, fenders? pokers, fire-shovels, nothing came amiss to her, she iieapcd them upon me like fury, and as soon as I could disentangle myself from amongst thcni, she flew at me, tore my shirt off my back, and there was I scampering about stark naked, (saving your Worship's presence !) and she smacking me round and round the room, Avith the fire-shovel. Only think, your Worship! of being smacked with afire- shovel ; — would any good wife do that, I should like to know ? I cried murder, and the neighbours coming tumbling in, she was stopped iu her career, and I got some of them to sit up with me all night." The poor man was so o])pressed with his recollec- tions of that horrible night, that he could get no farther. He continued to hold up the tattered re- mains of his shirt, reduced to a mere shred, and to dwell upon the shocking detail of the fire-shovel operation, so that, after all, it was left to other wit- nesses to describe the innncdlate affair which brought ihem before the iVIagistrate. 104 THE good-fellow's CALENDAR. By the testimony of these persons it appeared, that she had spent the whole of Monday in what she called looldng-iqj her husband, but which was, in fact, raising a i-iot about the house of his em- })loycr, Mr. Weiss, the cutler, in Durham-street ; and that upon his requesting her to go home, she seized him by his neck-cloth, threw him on the floor, and would have strangled him, had he not been extricated by three or four men. Mrs. Scarsfield had nothing to say in her defence, except that her husband was an idle fellow who wanted " louJang-iip,'''' and that he beat her as often as she beat him ; the Magistrate ordered that she should find bail to keep the peace, and, in default, she was committed to prison. As the officers were taking her away, her husband offered her sonie silver. " Here, Mar}^, love," said he, " put this money in your pocket, may be you'll want it." " You be d d, and your money too," replied " Mary, love f and snapping ]>er fingers in his face, she, with becoming gi'ace and dignity of mien, quitted the presence of the Magistracy. Mr. and Mrs. Scarsfield seem to have been not the only couple whose Matrimonial Harmony was interspersed with a few discords. A contemporary wit has put on rcconl the desaffrcmens of " Mr. and Mrs. John Prevost," adapting it, at the same time, to a popular air. The pen to which we are indebted for the ''• llt^ected Addresses," furnished APRIL. 105 (we believe) the following vivacious piece of vocaiity also. MR. AND MRS. JOHN PREVOST ; A Matrimonial Duct. Air — " Evelyn's Bower." He. — Wb.cn we first were man and wife, And you swore to love for life, We were quoted as a model, we were quite a show : Yes, we tcte-a-t-t'te were seen, Like KtnfT William and his Queen : AVhat a jewel of a wife was Mrs. John Prevost .' She. — Aye ! then I clove to thee, man. Like Baucis to Philemon — Now, if I go to Brighton, you're at Bath, I know ; Like the pair who tell the weather, We are never out togfcthcr — One at home and t'other gadchng, Mr. John Prevost He — If a lion's to be seen, Old Bluchcr, Mr. Kcan, You order out the carriage, and away you go ; With that gossip, ^f rs. Jones, How you rattle o'er the stones : You've no mercy on the horses, Mrs. John Prevost S?he. — With Madeira, Port, and Sherrv When you make Avhat you call merry t5 106 THE GOODFELLOW'S CALENDAR. And sit in sober sadness, are you sober ? — No I With that horrid Major Rock, It is always twelve o''clock Ere you tumble up to coffee, Mr. John Prevost. Both. — Our vicar, Doctor Jervice When he read the marriage-service, United us for better and for worse, — heigh-ho ! That the worse may turn to better, Since we cannot break our fetter, Let us say no more about it 4 ^. ' f John Prevost. 23tZ— 1702. KixG Geoege IV. boin. On this Day of " ju])ilee and cajolry," London is " gayest of the gay." The Court-end shines with new feathers, neza flowers, new shoe-strings, and new coats ; and while informing our readers of this fact, we have stumbled, in the most apropos manner imaginable on an article possessing great humour and character, and very aptly termed — THE TWO COATS. It is now five years, when the sun shall have set upon the 23d of April, 1822, that my late Coat was brought home. With what delight did I sur- vey it ! how eagerly I listened to the exhortations of the maker, how to fold it up ! how cautiously I put it on, and how carefully I felt in my pocket for the key, when I locked it up ! Its colour was suit- APRIL. 107 able to the tint of my mind — it \vas a briglit green, with "Waterloo i)utton.s. Green coats were then tin- ■sine qua non of a beau. Black and blue " hid their diminished lieads," or rather tails ; and thougii now and then a brown appeared, it passed aloi)g amidst the scoffs of the multitude. The first year every thing went well ; I stalked down Bond-street at the full glare of half-past four. I was not afraid to meet the purse-proud stare of the glittering Oriental in Hyde Park, on Sunday ; nor did I shrink before the glance of a St. James's Blood. The second year, in spite of all my anxiety, an incipient whiteness began to appear at the elbows. The Waterloo buttons looked somewhat shorn of their beams, and the collar liad been slightly annoyed by the too rude pressure of thu liat ; however, it had not yet had a regular wetting, if I omit the baptizing it got from my gallantry to Miss Protocol, in giving her more than her share of my cotton umbrella. But the third year was now fast approaching ; years rolled on, et nos niutamur in UUs — and so did my Coat. The thread of the lives of two of its buttons had been snapped ; one was wrenched off by a friend, notwithstanding niv agonized look, whilst he was telling me the fate of his fiu-ce ; the other fell into a gradual decline, and died a natiu^al death. The bright green had now faded, and had imbibed a tint of brown ; the collar was dilapidated, the cuffs were in ruins. 108 THE GOODFELLOw's CALEXDAE. I struggled on, however, another year, but I left my former scenes. I would go a mile out of the way, rather than pass Hyde Park on a Sunday. Three more buttons had fallen under tlie scythe of Time. Something must be done — I sent it to be repaired, and I hardly knew it again. The Water., loo buttons once more dazzled by their brightness ; new cuffs and collar sprang up like phoenixes from the ashes of their fathers ; and though the fashion of Coats had somewhat altered, yet 1 held an erect head. But ah ! this was a deceitful splendour — a glimpse of sunshine on a rainy day ; the constitu- tion of tli-e Coat was ruined, and it soon suffered a, relapse. At last my resolution was taken — a nev/ Coat must, be ordered. It was a precept of my late respected uncle Nicholas, that one good dear garment is wortli two bad cheap ones ; and I always act up to it. I walked up boldly to Mr. S., in Bond-street; and althougli I met with some broad stares at my en- trance, yet when my purpose was known, every thing was respectful attention. With what eleva- tion did I survey myself in the double mirror close to the window ! With what hauteur did I bid the tradesman be punctvial as to the hour ! How fiercely did I brush by the beaux in my return, with the delio-htful thought that I should soon have it in my power to cut tliem all out. How many are the advantages of a new Coat ! a new pair of trowsers APRIL. 109 rather serves to contrast the oldncss of the upper gar- ment with its own novelty ; but a Coat chfl'uses its splendour through the whole ; it briglitens a wiUiered pair of pantaloons, and revivifies a faded waistcoat ; it illuminates a worn-out beaver, and even gives a res{>ectable a])pearance to an antiquated pair of gaiters. A man in a iiac Coat holds hia head erect, his chest forward ; lie shakes the pavement with his clattering heels ; he looks defiance to every man, and love to every woman ; he overturns little Ikivs, and abuses hackney-coachmen : if he enter a taveni, he calls lustily for his drink, and knocks the waiter instantly down, if he docs not bring it soon enough. But a man in an old Coat hangs his head, fumbles in his moneyless jx)ckcts, and stumbles at every third step ; he is scorned by the men., and unno- ticed by the women ; he is jeered at by the children, and. hustled by Xhcjarveys ; at a tavern, he enters the parlour with a shcepisii face, knowing his right to be there, but fearing it may be disputed — the waiter sniggers, and the landlord bullies him. After this " great," tliis " important" Birth-day, the fashionables rusticate. The metropolis soon gets deserted, and, as George Colman hath it,— - ** All throughout London, that overgrown place,. * Lodgings to let,"* stare you full in the face." The miseries that await Lodgers are tolerably pnv vcrbial, but one of the contributors to " Blackwood's 110 THE GOOD-rELLOw\s CALENDAR. ^ragazine" has certainly put them, hi the following " Letter,"" in a very new and ludicrous point of view : — LETTER FROM A " FIRST-FLOOR LODGER." " ' An Englishman's house is his castle' — I grant it ; but, for his lodging, a comparison remains to be found. An Englishman's house may be his castle ; but that can only be where he consents to keep the whole of it. Of all earthly alliances and partner- ships into M-hich mortal man is capable of being trepanned, that which induces two interests to place themselves within four walls, is decidedly the most unholy. It so happens that, througliout my life, I have had occasion only for half a house, and, from motives of economy, have been unwilling to \)ay rent for a wliole one ; but there can be, on earth, I find, no resting-place for him who is so unhappy as to want only ' half a house !' In the course of the last eight years, I have occupied one hundred and forty-three different lodgings ; running the gauntlet twice througli all London and Westminster, and oftencr tlian I can remember, the ' out-parishes' tiirouah ! As ' two removes are as bad as a fire,' it follows that I have gone seventy-one times and a half through the horrors of conflagration ! and, in every ])lace where I have lived, it has been my fate to be domiciled with a monster ! But my voice shall be heard, as a voice upon the house-top, crying APRIL. Ill out uiuil I find relief. I have been ten days already in the abode that I now write from, so I can't, in reason, look to sUiy more than three or four more. I hear people talk of ' the <^i-ave' as a lodging (at worst) that a man is ' sure of;' but, if their be one resur- rection-man alive when I die, as sure as quarter-day, I shall be taken up again. " The first trial I endured when I came to London, was making the tour of all the boarding- houses — being deluded, I believe, seriatim, by every perspective form of * Advertisements.'' "• First, I was tried by the pretence modest — this appeared in The Times all the year round. ' De- sirable circle"' — ' Airy situation"" — ' Limited number of guests' — ' Every attention"' — and ' no cliildren."' " Next was the commanding — at the very ' head and front' of The Morning Post. ' N'icinity of the fashionable squares !' — ' Two persons to increase society"' — ' Family of condition"* — and ' Terms, at Mr. Sams''s, the bookseller's.' " Then came the irresistible. ' Widow of an officer of rank' — * Unprotected early in life' — ' De- sirous to extend family circle' — ' Flatters her- self,' &c. " jNIoonshine altogether ! " ' Desirable circle' — 'A bank clerk, and five daughters, who wanted husbands.' Brandy and water after supper, and a booby from Devonshire snapt up before my eyes. Little boy too In the 112 THE good-fellow's calexbah. family, that belonged to a sister who ' had died.' I hate scandal ; but I never could find out where that sister had been buried. " * Fashionable square' — The fire, to the frying- pan ! The worst item — (on consideration) — in all my experience. Dishes without meat, and beds M-ithout blankets. ' Tei-ms, — two hundred guineas a-year,' and surcharges for night-candle. And as for dinner! as I am a Yorkshireman, I never knew what it meant while I was in Manchester Square ! " I have had two step-mothers, and I Avas six months at Mrs. Tickletoby's preparatory school, and I never saw a woman since I was born cut meat like liady Catherine Skinflint ! There was a transparency about her slice which (after a good luncheon) one could pause to look at. She v,ould cover you a v.hole plate with fillet of veal and ham, and not increase the weight of it half an ounce. " And then, the Misses Skinflints — for knowledge oi anatomy — their cutting up a fowl ! — In the puniest half-starved chicken that ever broke the heart of a brood hen to look at, they M'ould find you side-bone, pinion, drumstick, liver, gizzard, rump, and merrythought ; and, even beyond this critical acquaintance with all admitted and apocryphal divisions and distinctions, I have caught the eldest c£ them actually inventing new joints that, even in speculation, never before existed ! *' I now understand the meaning of the Persian APRIL. 113 salutation — ' ^May your shadow never be less !"* I lost mine entirely in about a fortnight that I staid at Lady Skinflint's. " Two more hosts t(x)k nie ' at livery"' (besides the ' widow"" of the ' ofllcer of rank')— an apothecary who made patients of his boarders, and an attorney, who looked for clients among them. I got away from the medical gentleman rather hastily, for I found that the pastry-cook who served the Iiouse was his brother ; and the lawyer was so pressing about ' discounts'* and ' investments of property,"* that I never ventured to sign my name, even to a washing-bill, ciuring the few days I was in his house : on the quitting which, I took courage, and resolved to become my own provider, and hired a * first floor"" accordingly (' unfurnished"') in the neighbourhood of Bloomsbury Square. " The premier coup of my new career amounted to an escape. I ordered a carte blanche outfit from an upholsterer of Piccadilly, determining to have my apartments uneKc*eptionable before I entered them ; and discovered, after a hundred pounds la'ul out in painting, decorating, and curtain- fitting, that llie ' ground landlord had certain claims, which would be liquidated when my property ' went in."' " This miscarriage made me so cautious, that, before I could choose again, I was the sworn horror of every auctioneer and house-agent (so called) in London. I refused twenty offers at least, because / 11-i THE good-fellow's CALENDAR. they had the appearance of being ' great bargains.'* Eschewed all houses, as though they had the plague, in Avhich I found that ' single gentlemen were pre^ ferred.' Was threatened with three actions of defamation, for questioning the solvency of persons in business ; and, at length, was so lucky as to hit upon a really desirable mansion ! The ' family' per- fectly respectable ; but possessing ' 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 I conveyed myself and my property. Sure I should stay for ever, and doubted whether I ought not to secure it at once for ten years instead of one. And, before I had been settled in the house three quarters of an hour, I found that the chimneys,— every one of them ! smoked, from the top to the bottom ! There was guilt in the landlord's eye, the moment the first puff drove me out of my drawing-room. He made an effort to say somediing like ' damp day ;' but the ' amen' stuck in his throat, He could not say ' amen' Avhen I did cry ' God bless us !' The whole building, from the kitchen to the garret, was infected with the malady. I had noticed the dark complexions of the family, and had concluded they were from the West Indies, — they were smoke dried ! "I suffered six weeks under excuses, knowing them to be humbug all the while. For a whole month APRIL. 115 it was ' the wind ;' but I saw ' the wind' twice all round the compass, and found, blow which way it would, it still blew down my chimney. Then we came to ' cures.' First, there were alterations at the top — new chimney-pots, cowls, hovels — and all making the thin of pleasing appearance, highly educated, and accom- plished; but, she flatters herself, the regulations of her heart and mind exceed all outward recom- mendation : her income is very small, and only just sufficient to enable her to make the appearance of a gentlewoman. The being she is desirous of looking up to for happiness, must be, by birth, far above the middling class of society ; and all professions, except the Church, the Army, or Navy, will be objected to ; about forty, but not under that age ; very tall, of gentleman-like appearance, and possess- ing that polish, and those liabits, that are only to be acquired in good company ; of an unimpeached, moral, respectable, and honom-able character, fond of retirement and domestic life. Fortune not being the object of the Advertiser, she requires his income only to be ecjual to his own wants ; and she will never lessen it. As the most serious and painful causes liave occasioned this Address, it is earnestly solicited that no one will reply to it from curiosity or amusement ; and persons who seek fortune, con- nections, or any other worldly advantage, will only be disappointed by noticing it ; but should it meet the eye of a being whose mind is sufficiently culti- vated to consider a well-born, elegant, and accom- ])lished companion, and sincere friend, the first trea- sure in life, from such she will be glad to hear ; and MAY. 131 real names and address will be considered a pledge of sincerity that will not be abused. Letters must be post paid, and addressed to O. P. Q., Two-penny l\)st-office, Blandfoi-d-strcet, Portman-square. 9^/^—1738. Dr. WoixoT, (alias " Peter Pindar,") was christened at Dodbrooke, in Devonshire, the place of his nativity. Few of his Repartees are on re- cord ; his Satires, in verse, arc still perused, witii avidity, by every lover of the piquant and the bril- liant. The following " Ode to My Baux," which appears at t)ne period to have been the refuge of some hapless votaries of the Sock and Buskin, from the joint persecution of Justices, Churchwardens, and Overseers, all, we think, must admire and smile dver : — Sweet haunt of Solitude and rats, MicCy tuneful owls, and purring cats, Whoj while we mortals sleep, the gloom pervade ; And wish not for the Sun's all-seeing eye. Their mousing mysteries to espy ; Blest, like philosophers, amidst the shade ! When Persecution, with an iron hand. Dared drive the moral-menders from the land, 132 THE good-fellow's calendar. Caird Players — friendly to the wandering crew, Thine eye with tears surveyed the mighty wrong, Tiiine open arms received the mournful throng — Kings without shirts, and queens with half a shoe. Alas ! what dangers gloom'd of late around ! Monarchs and queens, with halters nearly bound ; Duke, dukeling, princess, prince, consign'd to jail : And, what the very soul of pity shocks, The poor old Lear was threatened with the stocks; Cordelia, with the cart's unfeeline; tail. " The Examiner" of this date extracts the follow- ing bit of vivacity from a pubHcation entitled — " Leaves from a JournaV " In an old church, in the Town of Truro, in Cornwall, there is a large massive monument, which is erected to the memory of John Roberts, Esq. who died in 1614. It was originally decorated with several figures; and having fallen into decay, was, a few years since, repaired, by orders of Miss H , of Landarick, a descendant of the family. When it was finished, the mason presented an account, of which the following is a literal copy : — " To putting one new foot to Mr. John Roberts ; mending the other ; putting seven new buttons to his coat, and a new string to his breeches-knees. To MAY. 133 two new feet to his wife, Phillis ; mending her eyes, and putting a new nosegay into lier hand. To two new hands, and a new nose, to the Captain. To two new hands to his wife ; and putting a new cuff to her gown. To making and fixing two new^ wings on Time's shoulders ; making a new great-toe ; mending the handle to his scythe, and putting a new blade to it."" All of which items are severally drawn out, and balanced by pounds, shillings, and pence. The same Print, of the same date, also makes this extract from the " Medical Advise?:'''' " Child's Caul. — To be sold, for Thirty Gui- neas, a Child's Caul, that has already made seventy- two voyages, in which were encountered thirty-eight hurricanes, besides sundry small storms, in which not a single drowning took place. Application to be made at ]Mr. Underwood's, Fleet-street, where two old women attend daily *. — N.B. This Caul is particidarly useful in steam-boats and balloons." 12th — Ascensiox-Day. The Parishioners of , near the City of on this morning, in 1822, resolved to perambulate the bounds of the Parish ; but the walk beinjj too much for one day's work, there was a difference of • Does this alliiJe to Mv. UncicrwooJ and his Assistant? — Uu. 134 THE GOOD-FELl-OW's CALEKDAE. opinion as to what place tliey should leave off at, the first day ; when, luckily, one of the party put an end to the contention, by a proposition, which was carried nem. con. ; " that they should — all end at the galloxos ,•■" which, fortunately for them, stands in the middle of the parish. ICi'A— 1801. James Hardy Vaux, — transported. This fellow was one of the most gentlemanly and truly interesting thieves on record ; and, fortunately for the present age and posterity, he has written his " Memoirs,"" which throw such real light on the habits and characters of his distinguished contemporaries, that if he be not already hung^ we implore him to bestow, as a last gift to the literary world — His " REailNISCENCES AND RECOLLECTIONS."''' Many instances of gentlemanly adroitness in raising the zaind are attributed to this aspiring genius, which his bashfulness would not let him insert in his " Memoirs ;' but we shall yield to no such improjier feeling, but present our Headers with one of the " displays" in question, Avhich re- spectable prints have attributed to this Biographical Filch, One morning, as our hero was ruminating in Hyde Park, on ways and means to enable him to prosecute his objects with better spii'it, his atten- tion was arrested by the fine figure of a horse, MAY. 135 which a groom was leading to exercise in the park : he stopped the lad, and asked him several cjuestions relative to the animal ; and, among others, " at wiiat price he valued the horse?'' The groom answered, that his " master had lately given 120 guineas for him, and considered it a great bargain." Mr. Vaux said, if he would let him see the horse trot for a hundred yards, he would give him half- a-crown; with this the groom complied, and our adventurer asked if it was possible that two or three of his friends could, at some future time, receive the like gratification ? The lad said, he came every day, about that time, to air and exercise him. INIr. \'aux jjromiscd, that if he would be punctually there the next day, and shew the horse through his paces, (as he should direct him,) he would give him a guinea for his trouble. The groom promised to attend, and I\Ir. Vaux sauntered to one of the taverns in the neighbourhood of St. James's ; where, meeting some irentlemen with whom he had a slight ac- quaintance, he thus addressed them : — " I have just been to my banker's, and am much surprised that some remittances I have expected for some tlays have not arrived. I have determined, rather thau ask the favor of an advance, to sell my favourite horse, and a thought has come into my head — for the sake of amusement, I will dispose of him by a raffle. I gave 120 guineas for him, and bought liim cheap ; the terms shall be 20 guineas each, and six 186 THE GOOD-FELLOW"'s CALENDAH. members ; the winner and myself to contribute five guineas each, towards a dinner. I shall require no money down till the horse has been seen and ap- proved of; for that purpose, I will order my groom to take him into Hyde Park to-morrow morning, where you will have an opportunity of seeing his figure and performances — how say you ! are you agreed ?"" On these conditions, six gentlemen present subscribed their names in his memorandum-book. Next morning, the gentlemen and groom were punctual — the horse gave much satisfaction — and each one hoped he might be the fortunate winner. Our hero, under pretence of giving the servant some directions, slipped the guinea into his hand, and the gentlemen retired to the tavern — the stakes were deposited — and the dice soon confirmed the wishes of one of the members, to whom jVIr. \'aux ob- served, — " It now remains for me to put you in ])ossession of your prize, which I will immediately do, if you will accompany me to the stables where he is at livery ; and which will kill time till dinner is ready." They had no sooner got into the street, than the supposed owner of the horse thus addressed his companion : — " 1 am exceedingly sorry to infcrn) you, that the horse you saw to-day is not mine ; it was only an expedient I used to raise the wind; — there, Sir, is your money back again ; and there the five guineas for your contribution towards the din- ner. All the other gentlemen are satisfied they lost M AY. V61 their money fairly — by having yours returned, you are not injured; — if you betray me, you will only be laughed at— but, by keeping the secret, you will lay me under a great obligation." The gentleman complied with the last request, and they returned to dinner, where the evening was passed in convi- viality; and next morning, our intrepid adventurer set off to seek his fortune elsewhere. I6f/i— 18^21. In a letter from " York," of the date affixed, inserted in an American Paper, entitled " The Car- lisle Republican," the following somewhat extraor- diruu-y detail appears : — The Devil in Limbo at last. — Some time since, his Majesty, King Lucifer, was caught, and safely delivered over to the custody of the jailor of this county, where he is, at present, in con- finement, well secured and ironed, to await the decision of the law. The circumstances are, as far as they have come to our knowledge, as follows : — A farmer, in a neighbouring township, after the family had retired to rest, was sitting by the fire, ruminating over the events of the day, and the prospects of to-morrow, when suddenly the door of his apartment was thrown open, and in stalked a gigantic figure, with a lai'ge pair of horns, very fiery eyes, and terrible aspect, and a long bridle- 138 THE good-fellow's cale^idar. tail, which swung about. The brimstone tyrant appeared in all the majesty of ugliness ; the terri- fied farmer stood aghast, whilst in a hoarse and hollow voice he learned, to his utter fear and asto- nishment, the august personage before him was the Devil, who had come to take possession of his body and soul. The luckless farmer pleaded off; the Devil was inexorable ; the terrified man fell on his knees, and begged a day, promising every thing in the world for a respite. At length, his Infernal jVIajesty offered to give him a few years'* time, for the sum of 500 dollars, which the farmer immediately presented in bank notes ; but the Devil told him he ' durst not touch paper-money — his fingers would burn it,'' The farmer then promised and swore that he would have the notes exchanged for specie the next day ; and if his Majesty would please to call upon liim the ensuing night, he should have it. Upon this assurance, the Devil departed ; and the next day the farmer came to this place, where he procured specie for his notes, and returned home hap})y, in the thoughts of getting so easily rid of his unwelcome visitor. In the course of the evening, a Yankee ])edlar stopped at his house, and asked for lodgings, which were refused ; and on the Yankee'' s insisting to stay, as he could go no farther that night, the farmer told him that he had better not, as the Devil was to be there shortly, and would, in MAY. 139 all probability, take him aloiif^ with him. The Vmikee, although a httle surprised at the oddity of the man, replied that he was willing to risk it ; he unharnessed his nag, swallowed his supper, and, after providing himself with a good ckib, took his station in a private corner. The farmer stood at hiis table before the fire, on one end of which he took his seat, and at the other end pai'aded his dollars, apparently wishing to avoid, as much as possible, the sooty fingers and sulphureous scent of Mr. Beelzebub. Accordingly, at a late hour, the door flew open, in stalked his INIajesty, accoutred as before, spitting fire and vomiting smoke in his pas- sage to the table, which contained the farmer's ransom. The Devil, who hates formality, imme- diately connnenced gathering up the pieces ; when our Yankee, stepping up behind him, levelled a blow at his head with the club, which did no further injury than knocking oft" one of the horns of Mr. Devil, who seemed disposed to make his escape ; but fortunately a second hit with the club knocked him down; when, with the assistance of the farmer, who, by this time, had not so much dread of his Satanic Majesty, he was tied and conveyed to the prison of this place. 17f/i_1817. ]\Ir. Samuel Jessop died at Heckington, aged 65. 140 THE GOOD-FELLOW''s CALENDAR. At his decease he possessed a good fortune, not- \vithstaiKlhig a most inordinate craving for physic, by which he was distinguished for the last thirty years of his hfe, as appeared on a trial for the amount of an apothecary"'s bill, at the assizes at Lincoln, a short time before Mr. Jessop''s death, wherein he was defendant. The evidence on the trial affords the following materials for the epitaph of the deceased, which will not be transcended by the memorabilia of the life of any man: — In twenty-one years (from 1791 to 1816), the deceased took 226,934 pills, supplied by a respectable apo- thecary at Bottesford ; which is at the rate of 10,806 pills a year, or twenty-nine pills each day ; but as the patient began with a more moderate appetite* and increased it as he proceeded, in the last five years preceding 1816, he took the pills at the rate of seventy-eight a day ; and in the year 1814 he swallowed not less than 51,590. — Notwithstanding this, and the addition of 40,000 botdes of mixture, and juleps and electuaries, extending altogether to fifty-five closely written colunms of an apothecary's bill, the deceased lived to attain the advanced age of sixty-five years ! oOif/i— 1736. The following curious entry is inserted in the register of Lymington church, under the year above MAY. 141 mentioned. " Samuel Baldwin, Esq. sojourner in this parish, was immersed, without the Needles, sans ccremoJiii'y May 20:" — that is to say, his remains were deposited in the English Channel, a small distance from the Isle of Wight. This was performed in consequence of an earnest wish he had expressed to that effect, a little before his disso- lution, from a determination to disappoint the in- tention of an affectionate wife, who had repeatedly assured him, in tiieir domestic squabbles, (which were very numerous,) that if Providence permitted her to survive him, she would revenge her conjugal vex- ations by occasionally dancing on the turf that covered his grave. 215^—1825. Tlie renowned Daniel O'Coxnel treated the good City of London with one of his choice orato- rical displays. All who, like him, are ceaselessly thrusting them- selves before the public eye, and exhibit a perpetual ravenousness for the plaudits of the Jis1i-inarkcty must expect now and then to receive a few shots from those riflemen whose motto is, " To shoot Folly as it flies.'' A brace of these (in the sha|)e of parodies) we present the reader with : — the first is extracted from a sprightly volume, entitled " Anacreon in Dublin," and is significantly called — 142 THE good-fellow's calendar. THE PUPPET. T'other clay I chanced to pop My head into a toyman's sho]3 ; And a puppet there I saw, Image of a Man of law, Dress'd in gown, and band, and wig, Looking very wise and big. Tell me, said I to the 'prentice. Who by this fine figure meant is ? — " Sir," — replied the little rogue. Speaking in a Munster brogue, — *' Arr all fait, 'tis Lawyer Dan, " Nate and new, and spick and span ; — " But if you the maker ax " Of this pretty lad of wax, " 'Twas my master, and not I, " Had a finger in the pie. " I'd not on my conscience take it, " With my own two hands to make it ; " Or 'mong dasent folks to bring " Such a very dangerous thing, " As a head so hot and crazy, " Which no mortal can make aizy. " Take him — we'll not disagree — " Take him for a Tenpentvy .'" — With a silver bit I bought him. And, rejoicing, home I brought him. MAY. 143 Tlie succeeding is adapted to a popular " Irish melody,"' and first appeared in that Patriotic Print, " The Cork Constitution *." Believe me, if all those absurdities rare That you\e nurtured so long in your brain. Were rudely expell'd, or were weeded with care, A fresh harvest would spring up again. You'd be just as absurd as this moment thou art ; As perverse, and as full of self-will ; And towards every folly, each throb of your heart, Would beat fervent, and foolishly still. Oh ! it is not in youth when gross folly is shown, That it blossoms, and withers away. It clings to old age, and O'C 11 alone, Tliy death will declare its decay. The man that's a boobv, will laush at, as vain. The exposure and sneers of his foes ; As Hume, when defeated, still starts up again, And bullies it on to the close. While we are on the subject of Irish diffidence uftd fahnt, we cannot resist the temptation of presenting our Headers with a highly- finished " PoiiTKAiT," drawn by an artist of almost un- rivaled discernment, and powers of colouring. This • A New.opaper that is full a century before all its couteinpo- iTH-ies ill Ireland in typograpiiical neatness. 144 THE COOD-FELLOw's CALENDAR. chcf-cTa:uvrc^ it is pretty well known, proceeds from the pencil of Lady Morgan ; and, certainly, there never was any " object," moving on two legs, be- neath the Moon, so faithfully and strongly deli- neated. MR. TERENCE o'fLUMMEEY ; AN IRISH PORTRAIT. This young gentleman, who has lately completed his twenty-fifth year, is justly vain of his family and pretensions. His family, even in Ireland, is allowed to be ancient. The O'Flummeries are gene- rally considered to have come in with the Creation, and are respected (by themselves) accordingly. It is equally certain, that they acted a conspicuous part, in former times, upon the theatre of Irish History ; but, for want of historians, their exploits have not heretofore been celebrated beyond the fire- sides of their descendants. The omission, however, is now pretty well supi^lied by Master Terry, (as he is still called by the friends of the family,) who never fails, when a third tumhler has stirred up his pride of ancestry, to fill up that important chasm in the annals of his country. His accounts are not perfectly distinct, but they are full of novelty ; and, in the main, extremely crcdital)le to the heroism of his forefathers. The branch of the O'Flummeries, of which our hero is a sprig, are determined Pro- testants. Their conversion from the errors of Popery was effected about the middle of the last ) ■ MAY. 145 Century, l\v a process of persuasion peculiar to Ire- land. Mr. Brian OTlummery, the grandsire of Terence, was then in possession of the family estate; and, as he was a wealthy man, the state of his soul became a subject of public concern. Accordingly, there was dispatched to him, not a learned doctor of theology, to allure him to the paths of truth by the gentle methods of argument and remonstrance, but a more authoritative visitor — His Majesty's most gracious writ of suhpcena ad respondendum, issuing forth from His Majesty's High Court of Chancery, signed by the then keeper of His Ma- jesty"'s Irish conscience ; and commanding the said Brian to appear, on a certain day therein specified, in the said Court ; and then and there to declare, upon his corporal oath, whether he, the said Brian, entertained those precise notions of another world, which alone could entitle him, according to the several Acts in that case made and provided, to enjoy a landed property in this. The oath was taken, and the estate preserved, as I shall, probably, more fully and at large, detail upon a future occasion. The family mansion. Mount Flummery, is situate on the banks of the Shannon. The rent-roll is pre- cisely a cool thousand a year, and the property con- sidered one of the best-circumstanced in Ireland ; for the incumbrances affectinfj it are somewhat less than its real value ; and it is admirably situated for defence against the incursions of ivhite-boys and H 146 THE good-fellow's CALENDAR. process-servers. Besides this, Terence, in his con- fidential moods, assures his friends, that, " upon his faith and honour, the finest pothcem in all Ireland is made, and may be had for asking, upon the borders of his father's estate." This young Gentleman's occupations, when at Mount Flummery, are miscel- laneous. Upon fine days, he is fond of taking " a run across the country," upon his elder brother's mare ; for his own horse Darby, who is, " out and out, the first saddle-horse in the county," can seldom be spared from the plough or the cart. He gene- rally breaks in the family pointers ; and has an old hereditary instinct for bringing down a grouse or partridge, a few days before the term of the parlia- mentary prohibition has expired ; just to keep up a due impression in the neighbourhood, that an Irish Protestant Gentleman, " born and bred on the banks of the Shannon," may take what liberties he likes with his old friend, the Law of the Land. In general, however, the O'Flummeries are zealous supportersof established order; and some of Terry's domestic employments have innnediate reference to the political duties of his House. He keeps the family blunderbusses in order ; and, upon wet days, makes important additions to the winter stock of slugs and bullets. He has also the credit of having suggested the outline of the present fortifications at Mount Flummery, which are, indeed, so excellently contrived, that Captain Rock has hitherto been MAY. 147 baffled In his efforts to surprise that loyal citadel. Three times, last winter, the attempt was made, in broad daylight, and while the family were sitting round the breakfast-table : but with so little success, that, on each occasion, the assailed had no less than five minutes' notice of the CaptahCs approach. For the last two or three years, young OTlura- mery has passeil the spring months in Dublin. He puts up at " The Hibernian," where he has, upon moderate terms, a snug bed-room at tiie top of the house, and liberty to lounge in the coffee-room on wet days ; or, to speak more correctly, during the wet hours of every day. He seldom breakfasts, and never dines at his hotel ; his finances, as a younger brother, would not allow it ; but the O'Flummeries are numerous in Dublin. Many of them hold lucrative offices under the Government, and they all make a point of supporting one another ; so that Terence, by a little management, contrives to secure a daily invitation to dinner — more parti- cularly as he never yet has had the imprudence to ask one of his Dubhn relatives to discount a bill. 0''Flummery''s appearance is rather striking ; and as, on the whole, he may be said to represent, in his person and manners, a pretty numerous class among the rising generation of Irishmen, upon whom, (ac- cording to some,) the salvation of their country will mainly depend, I think it a just tribute to their 148 THE good-fellow's calendar. merits, that a single sample should be delineated iu detail. In stature he approaches the height of the Belvedere Apollo; but the contour of his features, and still more their expression, differs in many respects from that model of masculine perfection. In truth, there is much more of the Devil than the God, in Terry s looks ; for, in his mornents of anger, he looks " de- vilish fierce;" and, in his equally violent paroxysms of politeness, " devilish genteel." The character of his countenance in its neutral moods belongs to the purely physical. There is flesh, and blood, and bone, in great profusion. High check-bones, a stout com- mon-place nose, with a thriving plantation of whiskers to shelter it from the side-v/inds ; a pair of eyes, each as plump, and oleaginous, and ogling, as a Carlingford oyster ; a mouth extremely well adapted to the two great employments of his life, eating and talking ; for, were it less capacious and pliant, it would be quite impossible for the masses of viands that enter, or the still larger lumps of' oaths and exclamations that come out, to force a passage ; 'these, with a head of hair as bristling and bushy as heath upon an uncultivated hill, and an expanse of cheek richhj stuccoed with the small-pox ; but still arrayed in the most glowing colours of pre- sent health, form a general style of visage that may be not inaptly termed " the florid Gothic." MAY. 149 Of his dress I shall merely say, that, when new, it is in the extremity of the Dublin fashion, which is synonymous with the London fashion " in ex- tremes." His cravat, in particular, is greatly to be commended for the am})litude of its folds, and the variety of its congyratlons. In the centre, appears conspicuously, a glistening Irish diamond, like an inqviisitive eye, peeping out to see what the Morld thinks of the owner. O'Flummery's gait and gestvu*es have a con- siderable dash of the heroical — more especially when he is exhibiting upon his favourite lounge, from " oMilliken's" to " Nelson's Pillar," and back again. In truth, he throws out his limbs with a certain air of defiance, from which you can infer that he has too much punch in his blood to bear the shadow of a slight from any man ; and as he has somewhere heard, that " none but the brave deserve the fair,' whenever he approaches a group of well-dressed females, the roll of his Mps becomes peculiarly im- posing. The back view of his figure is chiefly re- markable for those involuntary twitchings in the muscles over the blade-bones, which his countrymen call " the brogue in the shoulders." But Terry has laboured hard to stifle the brogue in other quarters. His intonations were once rich and abori- ginal ; but he passed the summer before last at Cheltenham, and ever since he has evinced a most merciless disposition towards His Majesty's English. 150 THE good-fellow's CALENDAR. Some of his acquaintance attribute this to the effect of the waters, and cite many similar instances ; but a friend, who put up at the same boarding-house, asserts, that on the very first day of his appearance there at the dinner-table, (they sat opposite to a rich Manchester cotton-twislerV daughter,) he could perceive Terry making a violent effort to catch the English accent; but by one of those accidents at- tendant upon a hurried exertion, he contrived to lay hold of it by the wrong end. Whatever the cause, therefore, certain it is, that his accent and pronunciation, though they pass at Mount Flum- mery for the purest Cheltenham, differ essentially from the rules recommended by Mr. Walker, Of the d^s and e's^ in particular, he makes strange work. He who, before the memorable trip to Cheltenham, did not hesitate to extol Mount Flummery as a part of Ireland where " bating was chape,'" {Angiice, where a man might get kicked and cuffed for the merest trifle,) will now ofifer to hand a cheer to a leedy; express his utter disteeste to steel bread, and praise an English .s^^^^'^-coach as an admirable conveeance. It is only M'hen he is taken by surprise, that pase and banes bolt out in the old way. But, besides these improvements upon the pronunciation of his fore- fathers, he has adopted a notion, not very uncom- mon among certain classes of his countrymen, that the pure English accent consists of a violent com- pression of the organs of speech upon the vocal MAY. 151 sounds as they pass. Hence, some words permitted to escape only through tlie interstices oi his clenched teeth, rush out with aA/.wi/z/j'noise, like the riotous spirit of ginger-beer, effecting a forcible enlarge- ment ; while others, half-strangulated about the lower region of the throat, die away in a distant, rumblinff cadence, like the gurgling of a subterra- neous bog-stream. CFlummery, though once a student of Trinity College (his name is still on the books), was never disthiguished by his progress in classic literature, and still less in the exact sciences. This is rather ano- malous ; for, to sec him strut over Carlisle Bridge, no one would suspect that he could have ever been stopped by the " Ponsasmorum.''' To make amends, however, for his want of academic honours, he has lately graduated in an Ora>Jge Lodge, where he pledges the Glorious Memory with such sur- yjassing zeal, that his friends expect to see him shortly rewarded by a comfortable provision under the last Police-bill. Being the only gentleman in his Lodge, he is treated there with great respect ; and his opinions, on most subjects, are implicitly deferred to. Yet there are two or three of the older mem- bers, and, in particular. Brother Brann'igan the Common Councilman, whom he has not yet been able to bring over to the doctrine, that William the Conqueror and William the Third were 7Wt one and the self-same man. It was under Terrifs auspices. 152 THE good-fellow's calendar. that the last attempt to dress " the Statue" was con- ducted. He also makes it a point, whenever the Constitution is more immediately endangered by a rumour of Emancipation, or by a verdict against an Orange magistrate, to take a nocturnal stroll, with a suitable retinue, into College Green, and salute the glorious Idol with a round of midnight yells, to the infinite edification of the Orange watchmen, and the sore discomfiture of the Catholic slumberers in the neighbourhood. For these exploits, our hero is regularly invited to the City feasts. Politics apart, however, the cifter-dmner thoughts of O'Flummery will often take a more genial turn. In the fine evenings of summer, he is fond of sauntering alone, within the railings of Merrion-square ; and indulging in those silent rhapsodies of sentiment Avhich youth, and health, and punch inspire. Upon these occa- sions, his step is more pacific, his eye emits a more tranquil fire. He hums a national air, and though a Protestant and an Orangeman, glories in the name of " Irishman !" He thinks of the O'Flummeries, of their past achievements, and their present import- ance. He speculates upon his own prospects in life. The wishes of his covmtry have already as- signed him a handsome income on tlie Police-esta- l)lishmenf; but sliould this expectation fail, Ireland has many other resources for the loyal — her custom- houses, her stamp-offices, her post-offices, her peni- tentiaries, her corporations (which never repent), MAY. 153 her collector-sliips and deputy collector-ships, ancl many other ships^ exceeding, in number, the British navy ; or should liis elder brother fortunately break his neck at a hunt, IVIount Flummery and its fair demesnes may yet be his; or failing all of these, the splendid chances of a matrimonial hit are still in reserve ; and then he thinks of Cheltenham, and the Manchester cotton-twister's daughter, and his own soft ways, and of all he might have done, and all he may yet do — until, kindling with " the fervour of youthful emotion," he determines, if he can only raise the wind, to be oft' again to England in the next day''s Packet. 22nJ— 1807. The " Connecticut Courant" boasts an advertise- ment, dated as above, proceeding from a Lady at " East Windsor, U. S." It runs thus :— " Thomas Ilutchins has advertised, that I have absented myself from his bed and board, and forbid all persons trusting me on his account, and cautioned all persons against making me any payment on his account. I now advertise the public, that the same Thomas Hutchins came as a fortune-teller into this town about a year ago, with a recommendation, which, with some artful falsehoods, induced me to marry him. Of the four wives he had before me, the last he quarrelled away ; iiow the otiicr three came by their deaths, he can best inform the public ; H 5 154 THE GOOD-FELLOW''s CALENDAR. but I caution all widows or maidens against marry- ing him, be their desire for matrimony ever so strong. Should he make his advances under a feigned name, they may look out for a little, strutting, talkative, feeble, meagre, hatchet-faced fellow, with spindle shanks, and a little warped in the back. " Thankful Hutchins."" 28 Then, as for society, here are men and women in abundance, that are all talk and blunders, and re- mind you of " The Bull and Mouth"" every hour of the day ; but they have no notion of any thing proper, beyond a wrestling match, or a run in a sack ; even a poney race is many miles beyond their capacity. I have tried, I supjwse, a dozen times over to get up a hit of a figlit, and offered to train my man, but all would not do ; they are as immove- able from their dull routine, as Ixion was from his ; I must, however, tell you, that at one time I had great hopes of being able to effect something in the milling xcay ; but I was confoundedly bit : a fellow whom I had long been persuading to fight a brother bumpkin, came to me one morning and told me, he was resolved to have at him, if I would " teach tin a bit," as the savage said ; this I agreed to, and pro- JUKE. 181 miscd to superintend his trainino- myself; whicli offer seemed to please my gentleman vastly, and at it we went, secundum artem. Fortunately, I brought down \\\\\\ me a ])air of Fambks, and every morn- ing, after breakfast, I amused myself with punching the booby's head and hrcad-haskct, till my wind got exhausted. I made him eat steaks underdone, and cut him the breast bits of turkeys and fowls, all of which he seemed to relish marvelously ; at lengtli, when the time drew near for his meeting his adver- sary, and I was anxiously expecting a little rational amusement, he dumb-founded my hopes one day by telling me " He and Tom" had made it up, and had the assurance to ask me if I " warn't glad on it." This was too much, and I was just endeavour- ing to exert myself to kick him, which Mr. Sim- plicity perceived, and very sagaciously made a precipitate retreat ; but, my dear Dick, how great will your surprise be to learn, that this fellow's training was all a settleel plan between him and his pretended adversary, " X.Q gammon the Lunntinery'' as these Hottentots, in the exuberance of their wit and amiable playfulness, called it ; this was rustic simplicity with a vengeance. This cruel disappoint- ment, however, I have recovered from, and have lately been feeding up some game cocks for a match with some of the Parson's, who is altojrelher " a nice man ;" he says a short grace, has been a sj)(>rt- ing character, and knows something about liing- ]82 THE good-fellow's calendau. affairs, about the period of Johnson and Big Ben ; but then he hves such a way off, and when he does come to see me, he poisons me by smoking, and drinks brandy and water enough to float " The Columbus ;*" and all this, however, he declares he does medicinally, to cure the asthma, which bores him very much ; for he coughs, and splutters, and wheezes, and snorts, and grunts, that the play of his luni>'s and the odd noises they sometimes produce on his breathing, frequently remind me of some un- fortunate pair of bellows, which happens to be half choked by a coal in its nozzle. " This is the sum total of my communications at present ; and I beg you, my dear Dick, to consider how unhappy I must necessarily be, thus situated. To be a stone-chopping Macadamizer of roads, a convict in a hulk, or a seller of sausages at Bartlemy Fair, would all be superlatively happy situations compared to mine, because all these come ih contact with those who know what L'/fe is, and who can appreciate its charms as much as I can the stripe of a new-fashioned toilinet, or Dr. Kitchener a Truffle by Ude. ' I am sick at heart :'' " That line, I think, is somewhere to be found in Shakspeare, or, ' Tlic Wheel of Fortune ;' I think I heard it one night at the theatre at half-price — it is applicable to my melancholy situation, and, theri?- JULY. 18S fore, I concliulc with it. If I live over the winter you shall hear from me again, till when, I remain, " Your comjianion in misciiief, " IIOUEIIT RaMBLETON." *' To Rkhanl Ranger, Esqr JULY. 7^^—1816. Richard Brinsley Sheridan died, aged 64. Sheridan, a few years before his death, paid a visit to an old sportsman in the sister kingdom, at the commencement of the shooting season ; and, in order to avoid the imputation of being an ignoramus, he was under the necessity of taking a gun, and at the dawn of day, setting forth in pursuit of game. UnwilUng to expose his want of skill, he took an oyjposite course to that of his friend, and was accompanied by a gamekeeper, provided with a bag to receive the birds which n)ight fall victims to his attacks, and a pair of excellent pointers. The game- keeper was a true Irisliman, and possessed of all those arts which are known to belong to his country- men : and thinking it imperative on him to be parti- cularly attentive to his master's friend, he lost no opportunity in praising his powers. The first covey (and the birds wei*e abundant) rose within a few yards of the statesman's nose ; but the noise they made was so unexpected, that he waited till they 184 THE good-fellow's calendar. were out of 'harm''s way' before he fired. Pat, who was on the look-out, expressed his surprise, and immediately observed, ' Faith, Sir, I see you know Avhat a gun is ; it's well you was'nt nearer, or them chaps would be sorry you ever came into the country.' Sheridan re-loaded, and went on, but his second shot was not more successful. ' Oh !' cried Pat, ' what an escape. I'll be bound you rumpled some of their feathers.' The gun was loaded again, and on went our senator ; but the third shot was as little effective as the two former. ' Hah !' exclaimed Pat, although astonished at so palpable a miss; ' I'll lay a thirteen you don't come near to us to-day again. Master was too near you to be pleasaiit.' So he went on, shot after shot, and always had something to say to console poor Sheridan, who was not a little amused with his ingenuity. At last, on their return home, without a bird in the bag, Sheridan perceived a covey quietly feeding on the other side of a hedge, and, unwilling to give them a chance of flight, he resolved to have a slap at them on the ground. lie did so ; but to his mortification, they all flew away untouched. Pat, whose excuses were now almost exhausted, still had something to say ; and he joyfully exclaimed, looking at Sheridan very significantly, ' ]3y J — s you made them lave tliat^ any way !' and with this compliment to his sportsmanlike qualities, Sheridan closed his morn- ing's amusement, laughing heartily at his com- JULY. 185 panion, and rewarding hhn witli half-a-crown for his patience and encouragement. To INIicHAEL Kelly we are indebted for a couple of facetious anecdotes of this extraorthnary individual. " I have seen," says he, " many instances of Mr. Sheridan's power of raisingmoney , when pushed hard; and one among the rest, I confess, even astonished mc. He was once 3000/. in arrears with the performers of the Italian Ojiera : payment was put off from day to day, and they bore the repeated postponement with Christian patience ; but, at last, even their docilit}^ revolted; and finding all the tales of Hope flattering, they met ; they resolved not to perform any longer until they were paid. As manager, I accordingly received on the Saturday morning their >vrittcn declaration, that not one of them would appear at night. On receiving this, I went to Messrs. Morlands' banking-house, in Pall ]\Iall, to i-equest some advances, in order to satisfy the per- formers for the moment ; but, alas ! my a]>peal was vain, and the bankers were inexorable — they, like the singers, were worn out, and assured me, with a solemn oath, that they would not advance another shilling either to Mr. Sheridan or the concern, for that they were already too deep in arrears. " This was a/Jo;:c;* ; and, with a Iieart rather sad, T wont to I-Iertforcl etroot, Mayfair, to Mr. Sliciidau, who at that time had not risen. Having sent him 186 THE good-fellow's CALENDAR. up word of the urgency of my business, after keep- ing me waiting rather more than two hours, in the greatest anxiety, he came out of his bed-room. I told him, unless he could raise SOOOZ. the theatre must be shut up ; and he, and all belonging to the establishment, be disgraced. " ' Three thousand pounds, Kelly ! there is Ho such sum in nature,' said he, with all the coolness imaginable ; nay, more than I could have imagined a man, under such circumstances, capable of. ' Are you an admirer of Shakspeare ?'' " ' To be sure I am,' said I ; 'but what has Shakspeare to do with SOOOZ. or the Italian singers ?" " ' There is one passage in Shakspeare,' said he, ' which I have always admired particularly ; and it is that where Falstaff says, * Master Robert Shallow, I owe you a thousand pounds.' — * Yes, Sir John,' says Shallow, ' which I beg you will let me take home with me.' — ' That may not so easy be. Master Robert Shallow, replies Falstaff;' and so I say unto thee. Master Mick Kelly, to get three thousand pounds may not so easy be.' " ' Then Sir,' said I, ' there is no alternative but closing the Opera House ;' and not quite pleased with his apparent carelessness, I was leaving the room, when he bade me stop, ring the bell, and order a hackney-coach. He then sat down, and read the newspaper, perfectly at his ease, w^hile I was in all agony of anxiety. When the coach came, he de- JULY. 187 sired nie to get into it, nnd order the coachman to drive to jMorlands"', and to Morlands' we went ; there lie got out, and I remained in the carriage in a state of nervous suspense not to be described ; but in less than a quarter of an liour, to my joy and surprise, out he came, with SOOO/. in bank notes in his hand. By what hocus-pocus he got it, I never knew, nor can I imagine even at this moment ; but, ccrtcs^ he brought it to me out of the very house where, an hour or two before, the firm had sworn they would not advance him another sixpence. " He .saw, by my countenance, the emotions of surprise and pleasure his appearance, so provided, had excited ; and laughing, bid me take the money to the Treasurer, but to he sure to Keep enough mit of it to buy a barrel of native oysters, tch'ich he xcould come and roast at night in Suffolk-street. " An instance of Shcridan''s neglect of his own interest came (amongst many others) to my know^- ledgc. He had a particular desire to have an au- dience of his late Majesty, who was then at Windsor, on some point which he wished to carry, for the o-ood of the theatre. — He mentioned it to his pre- sent Majesty, who, with the kindness which on every occasion he shewed him, did him the honour to sav, that he would take him to AVindsor himself ; and appointed him to be at Carlton House, to set off with his Koyal Highness precisely at eleven o'clock. He called ujion me, and siiid, ' My dear 188 THE good-fellow's calendar. Mic, I am going to Windsor with the Prince the day after to-morrow ; I must be with him at eleven o'clock in the morning, to a moment ; and to be in readiness at that early hour, you must give me a bed at your house to-morrow night ; I sliall then only have to cross the way to Carlton House, and be pi;ii( tual to the appointment of His Royal High- ness."' " I had no bed to offer him but my own, which I ordered to be got in readiness for him ; and he, with his brother-in-law, Charles Ward, stayed din- ner with me. Amongst other things at table, there was a roast neck of mutton, which was sent away untouched. As the servant was taking it out of the room, I observed, ' There goes a dinner fit for a King;' alluding to his late Majesty's known par- tiality for that particular dish. " The next morning I went out of town, to dine and sleep, purposely to accommodate Mr. Sheridan with my bed ; and got home again about four o'clock in the afternoon, when I v/as told by my servant, that Mr. Sheridan was up-stairs still, fast asleep — that lie had been sent for several times from Carlton House, but nothing could prevail upon him to get up. " I was told that an hour after I had quitted town, he called at the Saloon, and told my servant-maid, that ' he knew she had a dinner fit for a King, in the house, — a cold roast neck of mutton,' and asked JULY. 189 her if she had any wine. She told him there were, in a closet, live bottles of port, two of madeira, and one of brandy ; the whole of which, I found that he, Richardson, and Charles Ward, after eating the neck of mutton for diimer, had consumed : — on hearing this, it was easy to account for his drowsi- ness in the morning. He was not able to raise his head from his pillow, nor did he get out of bed until seven o'clock, when he had some dinner. " Kemble came to him in the evening, and they again drank very deep, and I never saw Mv. Sheri- dan in better spirits. Kemble was complaining of want of novelty at Drury Lane Theatre ; and that, as manager, he felt uneasy at the lack of it. ' My dear Kemble,' said Mr. Sheridan, ' don't talk of grievances now.' But Kemble still kept saying, ' Indeed we must seek for novelty, or the theatre must sink — novelty, and novelty alone, can prop it, " ' Then,' replied Sheridan, with a smile, ' if you want novelty, act Hamlet, and have music played between your pauses.' " Kemble, however he might have felt the sarcasm, did not appear to take it in bad part. What made the joke tell at the time, was this : a few nights pre- vious, while Kemble was acting Hamlet, a gentle- man came to the pit-door, and tendered half-price. The money-taker told him that the third act was only then begun. " The gentleman, looking at his watch, said, — * It 190 THE GOOD-rELLO\v''s CALENDAR. must bo impossible, for it was then half past nine."' " ' That is very true, Sir,' replied the money- taker ; ^ hut recollect Mr. Kemble plays Hamlet to-night: " It is but fair to add, that both Kelly's Work, and Moore's, contain several anecdotes of Sheridan, amusing enough in the detail ; but as they place him in the light of a captivating swindler, we have too much gratitude for the pleasure derived from his writings, to introduce them here. Sth—mQ. Dr. South died. The celebrated Dr. South, the most eloquent of preachers in his day, called on his old friend and fellow-collegian, Dr. Waterland, who pressed him to stay dinner. Mrs. W., however, thought her arrangements disturbed, and refused to make any addition to the leg of mutton already provided, saying, she would not be put out of her way — that she would not ; the husband, provoked beyond all patience, declared that, if it were not for the stran- ger in the house, he would thrash her. Dr. South, who heard all this through a thin partition, hallooed out, " Dear doctor ! as we have been friertds'so long, I beseech you not to make a stranger 9'f me on this occasion." Dr. South, when he resided at Caversham, in JULY. igi ft> Oxfordshire, was, one very cold winter''s morning, called out of his bed to marry a coujile, ^\ll() were then waiting at cliureh. He liurried on his habili- ments, and went shivering to the churcli ; but seeing only an old man of seventy, and a woman about the same age, asked his clerk in a pet, where the bride and bridegroom were, and what those old folks wanted ? The old man replied, that they came there to be married. The doctor, looking sternly at them, exclaimed, married ! " Yes, mai-ried^'' said the old man hastily ; " better marry than do toorsc.''^ " Get you gone, you silly old fools," said the Doctor ; *' get home and do your zcorst z"" and then hobbled out of church, abusing his clerk for disturbing him on so siUy an occasion. 20th— llSd. This Day an action was tried before the Court of King's Bench, brought by ]\Ir. Spurrier, auc- tioneer, against a IMr. Beard, to recover a sum of about J0.2S0, being a charge of one per cent, com- mission for selling an estate. INIr. Ciiristie, the auctioneer, of " hanging wood" memory, was called as a witness for the plaintiff. He said, " he had been an auctioneer upwards of twenty-five years. The business of an auctioneer consisted in something more than in making bows, and in knocking down the hammer. It required a knowledge, grounded on experience ; a proper ac- 192 THE good-fellow's CALENDAR. quaintance with all the circumstances belonging to the estate, and the mode of preparing proper adver- tisements to enlarge the ideas of' the public^'' Mr. Erskine, who was counsel for the defendant, addressed the jury in a speech replete with wit and ingenuity. He said he found the profession of an auctioneer was infinitely preferable, in point of pleasure and profit, to that of a barrister ; for the difference between the charge of the present plaintiff' and his, was as follows : — Auctioneer's charge : To a pleasant journey into Sussex, where I was hospitably entertained, (out two days) .^£^.230. Mr. Erskine''s charge : To pleading from nine in the morning till four in the afternoon, by which I was melted down by fatigue to the size of a silver penny, .^.10. 10*. Mr. Erskine eald, if auctioneers were paid the demand in question on every adventure, they would be the rlciiest subjects in the nation. By enlarging the ideas of the public, which he found was the business of the gentlemen of the hammer, he sup- jKDsed was meant, representing an estate to be worth i?.20,000, when it would only sell for J*.10,000. The riaintiffwas nonsuited. 25^^—1809. The Walcheren Expedition sailed. Many persons of sensibility were much affected at the parting interview between Lord Castlereagh JULY. 193 and Sir William Curtis, when the worthy Alderman sailed with the Expedition. Since Gay's " Black- eyed Susan," there has scarcely occurred a more pleasing subject for lyric poetry ; and a parody on that beautiful composition has been prettily attempted by some tasteful and sprightly genius. All in the Downs the fleet was moorM, The streamers waving in the wind. When Castlereagh appeared on board, " Ah ! where shall I my Curtis find? Tell me, ye jovial sailors, tell me true, If my fat William sails among your crew?" William, who higii upon the poop, Rock'd by the billows to and fro, Heard, as he supp'd his turtle-soup, The well-known Viscount's voice below ; The spoon drops greasy from his savoury hands, And quick as lightning on the deck he stands. So Isaac Hawkins Browne at prayer, Shuts close Ills hymn-book to his breast, If Perceval's shrill note he hear. And drops into the Treasury nest. The noblest biscuit-baker in the fleet Might envy William's ear that call so sweet, " O Casdereagh, thou spotless Peer, My vote shall ever true remain, Let me wipe off" that Union tear : We only part to meet agiiin. K 194 THE good-fellow's calendak. Change Ministers about ! — my vote shall be The faithful compass that still points to thee f " Believe not what reformers say, Who tempt with doubts thy constant mind ; They swear contractors, when away. Two strings to every how can find : Yes, yes ; believe them when they tell thee so ; Thine are my only strings and only bow. " Though Flushing claim this face to-day, Let not a paler statesman mourn ; Thougli cannon roar, yet Castlereagh Shall see his Alderman return [fly, All safe and sound, though forced-meat balls should And claret still shall wet his civic eye."" Tremendous Chatham gave the word. Sir Home his swelling topsails spread, No longer Castlereagh's on board, Sir William wept, and went to bed. The Viscount's boat unwilling rows to land, " A J CIO ■ " he cried, and waved liis lily hand. On this night the huge metropolitan Theatres usually close, and the actors of celebrity rusticate, picking up money and engagements from Country Managers, who arc certainly what Mr. Cobbett, in JULY. 195 his judicious application of epithet, would call '■^ fine anhnals.'''' A portrait of one has been drawn by Wash- ington Irvixo, and its fidelity to nature is equal to its wit and character. He makes him speak in his own person : — Behold me now, (says the votary of Thespis,) at the summit of my ambition, " the high top- gallant of my joy," as Romeo says. No longer a chieftain of a wandering tribe, but a monarch of a legitimate throne, and entitled to call even the great potentates of Covcnt-gardcn and Drury-lane, cousins. You no doubt think my happiness com- plete. Alas, Sirs ! I was one of the most uncom- fortable doos livino-. No one knows, who has not & tried, the miseries of a manager ; but, above all, the miseries of a country manager. — No one can conceive the contentions and quarrels within doors — the oppressions and vexations from without. I was pestered with the bloods and loungers of a country town, who infested my green-room, and played the mischief among my actresses. But there was no shaking them off. It would have been ruin to affront them ; for though troublesome friends, they would have been dangerous enemies. Then there were the village critics and village amateurs, who were continually tormenting me with advice, and getting into a passion if I would not take it ; espe- cially the village doctor and the village attorney, 196 THE good-fellow's CALENDAR. who had both been to London occasionally, and knew " what acting should be." I had also to manage as arrant a crew of scrape- o-races as ever were collected together within the walls of a theatre. I had been obliged to combine my original troop with some of the former troop of the theatre, who were favourites of the public. Here was a mixture that produced perpetual ferment. They were all the time either fighting or frolicking with each other, and I scarcely know which mood was least troublesome. If they quarrelled, every thing went wrong ; and if they were friends, they were continually playing off some prank upon each other or upon me; for I had unhappily acquired among them the character of an easy, good-natured fellow — the worst character that a manager can possess. Their waggery at times drove me almost crazy ; for there is nothing so vexatious as the hackneyed tricks, and hoaxes, and pleasantries, of a veteran band of theatrical vagabonds. I relished them well enough, it is true, while I was merely one of the company, but as manager I found them detest- able. They were incessantly bringing some dis- grace upon the theatre by their tavern frolics, and their pranks about the country town. All my lectures about the importance of keeping up the dignity of the profession and the respectabiUty of the company were in vain. The villains could not JULY. 197 sympathise with the delicate feelings of a man in my station. They even trifled with the seriousness of stage business. I have liad the whole piece inter- rupted, and a crowded audience of at least twenty- five pounds, kej3t waiting, because the actors had hid away the breeches of Rosalind ; and have known Hamlet to stalk solemnly on to deliver his soliloquy, with a dishclout pinned to his skirts. Such are the baleful consecjuences of a manager's getting a character for good nature. I was intolerably annoyed, too, by the great actors who came down starring^ as it is called, from London. Of all baneful influences, keep me from that of a London star .' A first-rate actress, going the rounds of the country theatres, is as bad as a blazing comet whisking about the heavens, and shaking fire, and plagues, and discords, from its tail. The moment one of these " heavenly bodies'" ap]>earcd in my horizon, I was sure to be in hot water. My theatre was overrun by provincial dandies, copper-washed counterfeits of Bond-street loungers, who are always proud to be in the train of an actress from town, and anxious to be thought on exceeding good terms with her. 1 1 was really a relief to me when some random young nobleman w'ould come in pursuit of the bait, and awe all this small fry at a distance. I have always felt myself more at ease with a nobleman, than with the dandy of a country town. 198 THE good-fellow's CALENDAR. And then the injuries I suffered in my personal dignity and my managerical authority, from the visits of these great London actors ! Sblood, Sir, I was no longer master of myself on my throne. I was hectored and lectured in my own green-room, and made an absolute nincompoop on my own stage. There is no tyrant so absolute and capri- cious as a London star at a country theatre. I dreaded the sight of all of them ; and yet if I did not engage them, I was sure of having the public clamorous against me. They drew full houses, and appeared to be making my fortune ; but they swal- lowed up all the profits by their insatiable demands. They were absolute tape-worms to my little theatre ; the more it took in, the poorer it grew. They were sure to leave me with an exhausted public, empty benches, and a score or two of affronts to settle among the townsfolk, in consequence of misunder- standings about the taking of places. But the worst thing I had to undergo in my managerical career was patronage. Oh, Sir ! of all things deliver me from the patronage of the great people of a country town. It was my ruin. You must know that this town, though small, was filled with feuds, and parties, and great folks; being a busy little trading and manufacturing town. The mischief was, that their greatness was of a kind not to be settled by reference to the court calendar, or college of heraldry ; it was therefore the most JULY. 199 quarrelsome kind of greatness in existence. You smile, Sir ; but let me tell you there are no feuds more furious than the frontier feuds which take place in these " debatable lands" of gentility. The most violent dispute that I ever knew in high life was one which occurred at a country town, on a question of precedence between the ladies of a manufacturer of pins and a manufacturer of needles. At the town where I was situated, there were per- petual altercations of the kind. The head manu- facturer's lady, for instance, was at daggers-drawings with the head shopkeeper's, and both were too rich and had too many friends to be treated lightly. The doctor's and lawyer's ladies held their heads still higher : but they in their turn were kept in check by the wife of a country banker, who kept her own carriage ; while a masculine widow of cracked character and second-hand fashion, who lived in a large house, and claimed to be in some way related to nobility, looked down uf)on them all. To be sure, her manners were not over elegant, jior her fortune over large ; but then, sir, her blood — oh, her blood carried it all hollow ; there was no withstanding a woman with such blood in her veins. After all, her claims to high connexion were questioned; and she had frequent battles for pre- cedence at balls and assemblies with some of the sturdy dames of the neighbourhood, who stood 200 THE GOOD-FELLOW'*S CALENiDAE. upon their wealth and their virtue : but then she had two dashing daughters, who dressed as fine as dragoons, had as high blood as their mother, and seconded her in every thing : so they carried their point with high heads ; and every body hated, abused, and stood in awe of the Fantadlins. Such was the state of the fashionable world in this self-important little town. Unluckily, I was not as well acquainted with its politics as I should have been. I had found myself a stranger and in great perplexities during my first season ; I determined, therefore, to put myself under the patronage of some powerful name, and thus to take the field with the prejudices of the public in my favour. I cast round my thoughts for the pur- pose, and in an evil hour they fell upon Mrs. Fan- tadUn. No one seemed to me to have a more absolute sway in the world of fashion. I had always noticed that her party slammed the box door the loudest at the theatre ; that her daughters entered like a tempest, with a flutter of red shawls and feathers ; had most beaux attending on them ; talked and laughed most during the performance; and used quizzing-glasses incessantly. 1 he first evening (}f my theatre's re-opening, therefore, was announced in staring capitals on the play-bills, as under the patronage of " the Honourable Mrs. Fantadlin." The whole community flew to arms ! Presume to patronise the theatre ! insufferaljle ! and then for JULY. SOI me to dare to term her " The Honourable !" What claim has she to the title forsooth ? The fashionable world had long oroaned under the tyranny of the Fantadlins, and were glad to make a common cause against this new instance of assumption. All minor feuds were forgotten. The doctor's lady and the lawyer''s lady "met together,*" and the manufacturer's lady and the shopkeeper's lady " kissed each other ;" and all, headed by the banker's lady, voted the theatre a hore^ and determined to encourage no- thing but the Indian Jugglers, and INIr. Walker's Eidouranion. Such was the rock on which I split. I never got over the patronage of the Fantadlin family. My house was deserted ; my actors grew discontented, l)ecause they were ill paid ; my door became a ham- jnering place for every bailiff in the county ; and my wife became more and more shrewish and tor- mentinir, the more I wanted comfort. I ti'ied for a time the usual consolation of a harassed and henpecked man : I took to the bottle, and tried to tipple away my cares, but in vain, I don't mean to decry the bottle; it is no doubt an excellent remedy in many cases, but it did not answer in mine. It cracked my voice, and coppered my nose, but neither improved my wife nor my affairs. My establishment became a scene of con- fusion and peculation. I was considered a ruined maa, and of course fair game for every one to 203 THE good-fellow's calendar. pluck at, as every one plunders a sinking ship. Day after day some of the troop deserted, and, hke deserted soldiers, carried off their arms and accoutre- ments with them. In this manner my wardrobe took legs and walked away, my finery strolled all over the country, my swords and daggers glit- tered in every barn, until, at last, my tailor made " one fell swoop," and carried off' three dress coats, half-a-dozen doublets, and nineteen pair of flesh- coloured pantaloons. This was the " be all and the end all" of my fortune. I no longer hesitated what to do. Egad, thought I, since stealing is the order of the day, I'll steal too ; so I secretly gathered together the jewels of my wardrobe, packed up a hero's dress in a handkerchief, slung it on the end of a tragedy sword, and quietly stole off at dead of night, " the bell then beating one," leaving my queen and kingdom to the mercy of my rebellious subjects, and my merciless foes, the bum- bailiffs. Such was the " end of all my greatness." 30//i— 1771. Thomas Gray, the Poet, died. The following Parody of his celebrated " Ode on a Cat drowned in a Tub of Gold Fishes" has both humour and elegance to recommend it. yi. 'Twas on the pavement of a lane. Where a hard shower of soaking rain Had made a pretty mess, >r Z.^y i^^c^y JULY. 203 A Buck advanced with careful strut, For fear a sprinkle from a rut Should soil his lily dress. His powder'd head, his ^^ilkcn hose, The dashing buckles on his toes Seem'd suited for a court ; The muslin round a pudding roU'd, In which he kept his chin from cold, Was of the finest sort. He trod on slow ; but 'uudst the tide A Brewer's dray was seen to glide — Unmindful of the mud, Before which stalk'd, with steps quite bold. Two hiorh-fed steeds of beauteous mould — The pride of Win thread's stud. The splashing made on ev^ry side The lane, which was not over wide. Quite terrified tlie elf: He saw tiie careless sifeeds come on, But dared not stand, nor dared to run — Lest he should splash himself. At lengthy poor youth ! he made a stop, And would have got into a shop — But ah ! the door was shut ! When, lo ! th' advanced ])rocession greets The hapless*beau with all the sweets Collected in the rut ! 204) THE good-fellow's calendar. He swore, and call'd the drayman wight Untaught, unlearn'd, and unpolite, And said he"'d thrash the blade ; But he did not — good reason why, Alas, no Hercules was nigh. To give Narcissus aid ! Then, all ye Bucks, who walk the streety So spruce, so buxom, and so neat, Learn this sad tale by reading, To keep at home on rainy days. Lest you should meet with any drays — For draymen have no breeding ! In July, 1818, a pedestrian, on his way from Westminster to Blackfriars, beheld a gentleman seated in a wash'mg-tub, floating with the tide, under the pilotage of six geese, yoked to the aquatic vehicle, and proceeding with all the grave composure of a civic voyage to Westminster. Whenever the geese were at all inclined to deviate, they were gently guided, with the round head of a mopstick, into the right course again. The per- sonage thus launched on so perilous and interesting an enterprise, turned out to be Usher, the clown of the Coburg Theatre, whose aquatic feats have acquired him great celebrity, and who, on this occasion, had laid a wager of ten guineas to perform a voyage from Blackfriars to Westminster in the JULY. 205 Ixirk we have dcscribetl, and which he accomphshed with great ease. In July, 1823, a very laughable incident occurred at the Lunatic Asylum at Lancaster. A parish over- seer took a Lunatic to the Asylum. As the man was respectably connected, a gig was hired, and he was j)ersuaded that it was merely an excursion of plea- sure ; in the course of the journey, however, some- thing occurred to arouse the suspicions of the Lunatic, but he made no resistance, and seemed to enjoy his jaunt. When they arrived at Lancaster it was too late to proceed to the Asylum, and they took up their quarters for the night at an inn ; very early in tlie morning, the Lunatic searched the pockets of the officer, where he found the order for his own detention. With that cunning which madmen not unfrequently display, he made his way to the Asylum, Siisv one of the keepers, and told him that he had got a sad mad fellow down at Lancaster, whom he should bring up in the course of the day, adding, " He's a very queer feUow, and has got very odd ways ; for instance, I should not wonder if he was to say that I was the madman, and that he was bringing me, but you must take care of him, and not believe a word that he says."" The keeper promised compliance, and the Lunatic walked back to the inn, where he found the overseer still fast asleep. He awoke him, and they sat down 206 THE good-fellow's CALENDAll. to breakfast. " You're a very lazy fellow to be lying all day ; I have had a good long walk this morning." — " Indeed," said the overseer ; " I should like to have a walk myself after breakfast, perhaps you will go with me ?" The Lunatic assented, and after breakfast they set out, the overseer leading the way towards the Asylum, intending to deliver his charge. When they got within sight of the Asylum, die lunatic exclaimed, " What a fine house that is !" " Yes," said the overseer, " I should like to see the inside of it." — " So should I," observed the Lunatic. — " Well," said the other, " I dare say they will let us look through ; however, I'll ask." The overseer rang the bell, and the keeper made his appearance ; the overseer then began to fumble for the order, when the Lunatic gave it to the keeper, saying, " This is the man I spoke to you about; you will take care of him, have his head shaved, and put a strait waistcoat on him." He immedi- ately laid hands on the poor overseer, who voci- ferated loudly, that the other was the madman, and he the keeper ; but as this only served to con- firm the story previously told, it did not at all tend to procure his liberation. He was taken away, and became so very obstreperous that a strait waistcoat was speedily put on him, and his head was shaved secundum artem. Meanwhile, the Lunatic walked dehberately bade to the inn, paid the reckoning, and set out on his journey homeward. The good people AUGUST. 207 were not a little surprised at finding the wrong man return ; they were afiiiid the Lunatic had murdered the overseer, and they asked him, what he had done with ; " Done with h'un !" said the madman ; " Why, I left him at the Lancaster Asylum, as mad as h — 1 ;" which, indeed, was not far from truth, for the wits of the poor overseer were well nigli overset by his detention and treatment. Further in- quiry was made, and it was ascertained that tlie man was actually in the Asylum ; a magistrate's order was obtained for his liberation, and he returned home on the next dav, with a handkerchief tied round his head, in lieu of the covering which Nature had bestowed upon it. AUGUST. 1*1?— 1749. Jack Joiikstone, the celebrated performer of Irish Characters, born at Kilkenny. This talented Patlaiidcr being one evening loudly called on, by the deities who preside in the highest part of the Theatre, for their favourite song of " the Sprig of Shilclagh," though it was not announced, came on thestage readily, signifying his acquiescence. The music played, but when he was to have begun, he stood silent, and apparently confused. Again the orchestra struck up the symphony ; and still his 208 THE good-fellow's calendar. silence continued. At length he came forward, and electrified the audience by this characteristic apology : *' Ladies and Gentlemen, I assure you, that / have sung the song so often, that, by my soid, I cannot remember how it begins.'''' " I remember," says Michael Kelly, " one day, shortly after my first appearance, dining with my friend, Jack Johnstone, in Great Russel-street, and met there an eccentric Irishman, well known in Dublin by the name of ' Waggish Jack Long,"" who was by turns an auctioneer and dramatist ; he wrote a play called ' The Laplanders,' which was most coolly received by the audience at first, and after- wards very warmly condemned. He came to Eng- land to propose to Government a scheme to pay off the national debt. He was, however, full of anec- dote, and had a happy knack of telling stories against himself; one, I recollect, was, that, in his auctioneering capacity, amongst other schemes, he offered for sale woollen cloths at a farthing a yard ; yet, so completely was his character known, and so well appreciated, that he could not advance a bid- ding, even upon that price. At one time, he told us, his patience was actually worn out ; and, in anger towards his auditory, said, he thought they woukl treat him with the same inattention if he were to offer a guinea for sale. He then, literally, took a guinea out of his pocket, and actually put it up; there were certainly advances, shilling by shilling. AUGUST. 209 until it reached seventeen shillings and sixpence, at which price he knocked it down, and han(linr, and down to the Red House Battersea. The thiee first boats only of this heat, started for the second heat, which was from Biooi/s, off the Bed House, rowing- through Vaui'haU Bridge, anil returning up the Surrey Shore, rounil a Boat moored near Latcn Cottage, and back to the Prize Wherr//, off the Bed House. The Tragedian himself (of course) was present, and fired off the pistol as a signal for the boats to start. Westminster Bridge was crowded with spectators, but the Bed House, Battersea, was where all the Primc-of-Life Lads assembled. Here were to be seen, Poets, Pugilists, and Players, of nil sorts, sizes, and degrees ; coster mongers, from Tot hill Fields, and Battersea Beauties; nor was there any lack of " wandering jMelodists.'"" A brace of nymphs who perambvilate London streets with a iiurdy-gurdy, whose xcind seems spavined, gladdeneil the hearts of those around ilu-m ; while the Dons who could stand the tip discussed the reid thing, at Swaine's, whose genuine goodness, as a host, is [)roverl)ial. His large room presented, in tnitJi, a most reviving appearance ; the wlmlous being L 5 226 THE good-fellow's cale>jdak,. crowded by beauties /J/ZZ grown, and in the bud; and the tables tastefully decorated with chicken and cold sirloins, which were demolished in the most interesting manner possible; while many who had " do7ie a little drink," edified the company with the coruscations of their wit, and their conjectures as to the probability of who would win the prize. Now and then a Song was struck up, and chatmted in a style that indicated something of the 'profes- sional. At the table at which the writer of this presided, one was volunteered of the Bacchanalian order, the Chorus of which was remarkably striking ; it ran thus : — *' Bumpers, bumpers flowing ; Bumpers up to the brim ! And he who is talking A word about walking, Out of the window, at once, with him.'' Down below, all was hilarity, of the purest and most classical description. Here the immortal " Randall," once known by the cognomen of " The Nonpareil," shone in all his glory. He so com- pletely realises the favourite Emblem of the Ancients, of strength and suavity ; namely, the Child with the Thunderbolt in his Hand, that it is im- possible to come in contact with him, either in the ring, or out of it, without being struck in a remark- able manner. The scrihcr of this brief narration AUGUST. 227 asked him to be allowed the felicity of assisting; iiim to a little Gin ; and the answer he made, beat Lord Chesterfield hollow. The reader should be pre- sented with it, as a model for him to study from, but the writer is well aware of Mr. Randall's tena- city of being brought before the public eye unne- cessarily ; suffice it to observe, it was all that Beau lirummell would have set down, as according with his ideas of polite and gentlemanly acquiescence. On the Boat-race being decided, " Home, sweet Home,''^ became the " order of the day," or rather night ; and the road from the Red House was soon crowded with pedestrians, who were lavish of their praises on the Tragedian, whose generous disposi- tion had furnished them with a day of prime festivity. This Month's Irish Papers, of about a twelve- month ago, presented the lovers of the whimsical with the following DESCRIPTION OK A SPLnXDID FETE, GIVEX AT BALLYGUOOGAGII. Ballvsroon-aivh House, the hospitable mansion of Timothy O'Mullighan, was graced some time ago by the most elegant festivities, on the happy return of their eldest son from the North of Europe, where he had been incognito, in the humble guise of cook to a whaler. The principal entrance to the house was most 228 THE good-fellow's calendar. handsomely decorated for the occasion : on one side was seen a heap of manure, shaped hke an ancient tumulus^ and tastefully ornamented with hanging straws, &c. ; on the other side appeared a stagnant pool, whose smooth surface was gently moved by a duck and drake, who muddled through it with un- common vivacity and spirit ; in perspective, was seen a turf-lish, around which a pair of trowsers being carelessly thrown, gave a hght and graceful finish to the whole scene. About two o'clock, the approach of company was proclaimed by the distant clatter of wheel-cars ; this deep sound, mingled with the finer tones of cur-dogs barking, whipped-children crying, &c. pro- duced a full and mellow volume of the most de- lio-htful harmony. The first arrival was that of the dowager, Mrs. Fluggins, an eminent accoucheuse ; she was soon followed by the rest of the expected company, who speedily repaired to a grand rustic saloon, the walls of which were painted a la soot- drop. Here a rich and finely-flavoured beverage was handed round in noble wooden vases, which the charming hostess, Avith bewitching simplicity, called broth in noggins. Dinner was shortly afterwards served up ; a plateau was dispensed with, but its place was mostly sup})lied with a fine skate, cooked up in the Turkish fashion, with all its tails; near it, a quarter of dchcate veal, which had breathed its AUGUST. S29 last sigh after an existence of five hours. On tlie central dish was ])lacecl a male bird, which, during a life of nine years, had increased to such a size as to excite the admiration of tiie whole company. There were many more rarities, such as arc seldom to be met with at the most sumptuous tables. After dinner, some original sentiments and well- selected songs were given, a few of which are the followin"- : — Mr. O'^MuUighan — '• A speedy rise to the price of pigs." Song — TJic night that I put the pig tinder the pot. Mr. O'Loughlin — " A merry go round to thr foot organ*."" Song — The weary powid of tozv. Mr.M'Dade — •' The weaver's harpsichord -f." Song — A zceaver boy shall be my dear. When the j)leasures of the festive board were concluded, preparations were made for dancing. The orchestra, an anti(jue of the most simple beautv, was an inverted creel, on which a single minstrel sat, the interest of whose appearance was much heightened by the loss of his left eye. Mr. Patrick O'lMuUighan di.sliking the monotony of the waltz, and the vagaries of the quadrille, opened the ball by dancing a jig with Miss Judy Iliggins; they were soon followed by Master Charles M'Dade, who • A spiimiug-wlieel. \ A loom. 2S0 THE good-fellow's calendar. floated into a reel with Miss Nancy Fluggins. Dancing was kept up until a late hour, and the ele- gant revellers parted with mutual regret. We sub- join a description of some of the most admired dresses worn on the occasion ; which, from their striking costume, will, doubtlessly, be the standard for fashionable imitation. Ladies' Dresses. — Mrs. O'jVIuUighan — A loose bed-gown robe of linsey-woolsey, petticoat to match, two-and-sixpenny shawl, thrown with graceful neg- ligence over the shoulders ; pincushion and scissars suspended from the right side by red tape. Head- dress, dowd and skull-cap. Miss CMulHghan — Round gown of striped calico ; habit-shirt, embroidered en gobble stitch. Head dress, bandalettes, of scarlet sixpenny riband. Miss Nancy O'Mullighan — A superb old cot- ton gown, dyed blue for tiie occasion. Head-dress, crooked horn-comb, and splendid brass bodkin. Dowager Mrs. Fluggins — Body and train of snuff-coloured stuff, petticoat of deep crimson ; the brilliancy of this truly beautiful dress was increased by a pair of large ticken pockets, worn outside of the petticoat. Head-dress, a most valuable antique straw bonnet. Miss Fluggins — A light drapery of plain yellow linen, over a sj)rigged cotton gown ; petticoat, grace- fully sprinkled with pure coloured spots. Head- dress, large velveteen band, with a mother-of-pearl AUGUST. 231 button in front ; black worsted stockings, a la Caraboo. Gentlemen''.^ Dresses. — INIr. O'Mullighan — A wallicoat of white drugget ; deep blue inexpressibles ; wig unpovvdered. Mr. Patrick O'MuUighan — Jacket and trowst-rs of blue frieze; cravat, a blue and white handker- chief. Mr. Gullv — A brown jacket, handsomely patcheil at the elbows with grey cloth ; waist, checjuer. This gentleman's declining to wear .shoes gave a ])eculiarly cool and easy freedom to iiis fine figure. Towards the close of this Month, the Ilouse.i of Parliament are what is called tip^ and Parlia- mentary and other Dinners are given in all quarters " called polite.'''' We therefore present our readers with what we deem an apjiosite tit-bit., entitled THE DINNER. Thus to his mate Sir Richard spoke — " T/ie House is i/p, from Londcm smoke All fly, the Park grows thinner ; The friends who fed us will condemn Our backward ground ; we must feed them ; JVIy dear, let's give a dinner." "Agreed," his Lady cries ; '* and first Put down Sir George and Lady Ilurst." 232 THE good-fellow"'^ calendar. " Done ! now I name the Gatties !" " My dear, they're rather stupid."" " Stuff! We dine with them, and that''s enough : Besides, I hke their patties."""" " Who next ?" " Sir James and Lady Dunn." " Oh, no."—" Why not .?" " They'll bring their son. That regular tormentor : A couple, with 07ie child, are sure To brine: three fools outside their door Whene'er abroad they venture." " Who next .?" " John Yates " What, M. P. Yates, Who o'er the bottle stale debates Drags forth ten times a niinute.''"" " He's like the rest : whoever fails, Out of St. Stephens's school tells tales He"'d quake to utter in it."" " Well, have him if you will."—" The Grants." " My dear, remember at your Aunt's I view'd them with abhorrence." " Why so ?" — " Why, since they came from Lisle, (Which they call Leel) they bore our Isle With Brussels, Tours, and Florence." " Where could you meet them ?" " At the Nore ?" " Who next ?" — " The Lanes."—" We want tv» more — AUGUST. 233 Lieutenant General Dizzy" " He's deaf."—" Hut then he 11 bring Tom ^Vlnle." " True, ask them both, — the boy's a bite, — We'll ])lace him next to Lizzy.'''' 'Tis seven — the Hursts, the Dunns, Jack "lates, The Grants assemble : dinner waits : In march the Lanes, the Gatties ; Objections, taunts, rebukes are fled, Hate, scorn, and ridicule lie dead As so many Donatt'tes. Yates carves the turbot, Lane the lamb, Sir George the fowls, Sir James the ham, Dunn with the beef is busy ; His helpmate pats her darling boy. And, to complete a mother's joy, Tom ^Vhite sits next to lAzzy. All trot their hobbies round the room ; -They talk of routs, retrenchments, Hume, The Ikird who would lie fallow ; The Turks, the Statue in the Park, • Which both the Grants, at once remark, Jumjrd down from Mount Cavallo. They talk of dances, operas, dress, Thev nod, they smile, they acquiesce; None ]>()Ut, all seem delighted : Heavens ! can this be the self-same set, So courteously received when met. So taimted when invited ? 234 THE GOOD-FELLOW"*S CALENDAR. So have I seen, at Drury-lane, A Play rehearsed, — the Thespia(n train In arms, the Bard astounded ; Scenes cut ; parts shifted ; songs displaced ; Jokes mangled ; characters effaced ; " Confusion worse confounded." But on the night, with seeming hearts, The warring tribe their several parts Enact with due decorum : Such is the gulph that intervenes ""Twixt those who get heh'md the scenes. And those who sit before Vm." SEPTEMBER. This has been, and still is a glorious day among Cockney Sportsmen, of whose feats on this cele- brated morning, our readers will be able to form some idea, by perusing the following diverting .Extract from — THE JOURNAL OF A C0CKNP:Y SPORTSMAN. Monday, Sept. 1, 9 a. h.— Took down from back attic my legacy gun, so called because it came mine under the will of Sir Diggory Drysalt, my maternal uncle. Used by him, with tremendous effect, when a grenadier in Colonel Birch's first Loyal London, SEPTEMBER. 235 in the battles of Shad Thames and Prhnrose-hilJ. Thought it prudent to ascertain the dc{)th of this Gunpowder Percy : chvw out the ramrod and tlirust it down the barrel ; felt a soft substance at bottom, and trembled ; screwed up my courajre and the soft substance, and found the latter to ])e a dolTs pin- cushion, probably pushed in by little Sally. Bor- rowed Bob's duster and ^Molly's scowering-paper, and rubbed oft' the rust. Looked about for a game- bag, and luckily alighted upon my uncle's havre- sack, in which I moreover found seventeen old car- tridges. Put on my shooting-dress, viz. my white hat, my stone-blue coat and black velvet collar, my white Marcella waistcoat, my India dimity under ditto, my nankeen trowsers, and my ditto gaiters, not forgetting my military boots and; brass spurs. Jammed down ramrod till it rang again, to the great terror of Mrs. Swansdown, of whom I took leave. smsnnir- " Adieu, adieu, niv only life, My honour calls me from thee." Set off", in high spirits, to meet Jack Juniper, Kit Cui-sitor, and Tom Tift'anv, by _a})pointment, at half-past nine, at the Cumberland Arms, opposite St. Luke's Hospital, in the Citv Boad. Saw a poll-parrot at a window in Carj)enter's Buildings ; longed for a shot, but housemaid too sharp. Terrier 236 THE GOOD-rELLOw''s CALENDAR. puppy barked at a bedstead in Broker"'s Row ; looked round, and found that she had made a point at a bullfincli — cocked and levelled, but broker kept walking to and fro. Arrived at place of appoint- ment Avithout seeing any more game. Found Jack Juniper and Kit Cursitor discussing a plate of biscuits and a couple of glasses of brandy and water. Waited twenty minutes for Tom Tiffany ; Jack, in the mean while, to pass the time, said he would play " Water parted," with his finger upon the end of the rummer; could not catch the tune, probably because it was all in one note. Ex- amined our pieces ; Kit's wanted a flint, and Jack''s lock too rusty to go, though he pulled till he nearly sprained his fore-finger. Borrowed some oil, with three wasps in it, of the barmaid, and got a flint from a bald paviour in the road. Hang the bell to pay, when who should turn up but Tom Tiffany, in high dudgeon ; back up, like the half-moon at Lower Ilolloway. Told us his brother Sam had walked off' with the family fowling-piece across Shoulder of Mutton Fields, to slaughter snipes in Hackney Brook. Asked landlord if he could lend us a gun, but he had nothing but a horse-pistol: — Ilobson's choice, so Tom had nothing to do but to take it. Too short to bring down pheasants, but quite long enough to do for the little birds. 10 A. M. — Marched up the City lload singing — " By dawn to the downs we repair." SEPTEMDKR. 237 Looked sliarp to the rlfrlit and left, and saw a hen and two chickens pecknifr under a wheel-barrow on the road-side. Jack Juniper seized the three dogs by the collar, that they nii^ht not run in and frighten the game. Kit and Tom stole upon tiptoe to within six yards of the barrow, when the Tally-ho Paddington coach sent hen and chickens scampering into a front warden in Pleasant Row. Swore that Tally-ho should never see another eighteen -pence of my money. Halted to rest oiu'selves upon the bridge on the Regent^s Canal. Looked over the j)ai'apet, and pointed our guns downward to nab the sea-gulls as they came through the arch. Saw something red steal out : took it for a pheasant, and cocked : proved to be a bargeman''s cap : grounded arms again, and saw him steer his vessel into a sort of water pound. Asked baker's boy about it : boy said it was in the loek, and that the bank on the other side was the key. Threatened to shoot him if he gave me any more of his sauce. Kept an eye on barge, and saw it begin to sink. Wondered at the coolness of old Father Red-cap, who walked from stem to stern, smoking his pipe as if nothing was the matter. Kit Curtis said they had scuttled it on purpose to chouse the underwriters, and that he had known the captain of a Dutch schooner hanged for similar practices. Kit talked of advising the underwriters to defend the action, and pay the premium into court : when lo and behold, the barge 238 THE GOOD-rELLOw''s CALENDAR. took a lower level, and slid off through the farther water-gate. Strolled on to Sadler's Wells, and halted at a lamp-[)ost to read play-bills. Betted Jack Juniper a shilling that he would not hit the words " Water fiend" at ten yards off: fired, and lodo-ed two shots in the W. Stood for ten minutes lot)king into the New River, and counting the straws that floated down it, with now and then a child's paper-boat by way of a change. Tom Tiffany chucked a boy's hoop-stick into the stream — black poodle jumped in after it, and brought it out, wagging his tail — shook his coat, and splashed my nankeens : — thought of calling Tom to account for it, but did not like the looks of his horse-pistol. 11 A. M. — Pushed our guns under an old woman's wheel-barrow, and started a Tom-cat — game made for Pentonville, we following — fired my piece, and brougiit him down in the chapel-yard — looked about for churchwarden to borrow kej's — luckily. Deputy Dewlap's funeral just tlien entered at South gate ; followed ill the wake of mourners, picked up cat, and po])ped him into Cursitor's blue bag. Trotted on to Islington, swerved to the right, and entered fields at the back of Canonbury-house : saw five strange-looking birds trying to hide themselves in a glass-case. All four fired : Tom's pistol flashed in the pan, but the guns went off: down went the birds, and up ran a tall fellow in a blue apron, iiwearing that we should pay for shooting his stuffed SEPTEMBER. 239 birds. Found to our surprise thai lliey were dead before we came near tlieni. Man in blue apron asked for our licence, but Lawyer Kit gave it as his opinion that none was legally rc([uisite to shoot a dead bird. Subscribed for a })urse of nine and sixpence to (juict the proprietor, and resolved to be more cautious in future. 1 1'. M. — Turned down a green lane on our left, thinking that the game on the high road might be loo wild. Drove a gander before vis, holding out our iTuns in a slantinix direction, w'hile Tom Tif- fany, with his horse-pistol, kept the dogs at bay. Looked over our shoulders, and, when we found ourselves out of view from the road, fired a volley. All missed : gander screamed, and was making ]iast us l)ack to the highwav, when, with admirable pre- sence of mind, I knocked him on the head with the butt-end of my piece. Gave him a thump each, to secure ourselves of his demise, and crammed him into Kit's blue bag, which he filled choke full, like a bill in Chancery. 2 P. M. — Steered on towards Pancras, wondering at the romantic beauties that met us at every turn- ing : caught a peep at the Small-pox Hospital, and longed for a pop at a patient. Put up at a couple of gipsies and a donkey : recovered arms just in time: had my fortune told, viz. that I should stand upon some boards that would slip from under me : walked back to Kit for a solution ; could neither make head !^40 THK good-fellow's CALENDAR. nor tail of it : resolved to ask the exciseman at the club: determined to make a knot in my handker- chief as a memorandum, and found gipsies had eased nie of my yellow Barcelona. Walked back to shoot them for the larceny, but found, as Kit expressed it, the writ returned iion est inventus. Arrived at Holywell Mount : read printed notice, " It is law- ful to shoot rubbish here :" took the hint, iired, and blew Jerry Bentham off a book-stall. 5 P.M. — Dinner at the Adam and Eve, Camden Town. Figeon-pie at top, and lamb-chops at l)ottom. Tom Tiffany in the chair, and I deputy. Asked Tom for a piece of the pie : carving-knife slipped, and in went his fist through the top crust, penetrated the pigeon, and stuck in the beef-steak sod at the base. " Now your hand's in.,''' said Jack Juniper, " I'll thank you for some of that pie." Tom wiped the gravy from his wristband, and did not .seem to relish the joke, but ail the rest of us laughed ready to kill ourselves. Asked the waiter if he bad any ginger beer : answered " Yes, Sir," and rushed out, returning instantly with a «tone bottle. Began to loosen wire: bottle hissed aiid spit like a roasted apple : all looked on in awful silence : at length out bounced the cork, and hit Tom Tiffany on the bridge of his no.se : Tom cocked his pistol to return his adversary's fire ; but the other bawling " Coming, Sir," bolted through the door like lightning: poured out foaming liquor SEPTEMBER. 241 in a glass, meaning to take a delicious draught, and found that I iiad swallowed a concern in which vinegar, brick-dust, and soap-suds, were the work- ing partners. 4 P.M. — Prowled round the brick-fields near the Ncwington-road, to start birds that love a warm climate. Saw a hopping raven, with its left wing cli})ped : went up within a yard of it, and brought it down ; cla})ped the black game into my havre- sack, and told a milk-maid that the brood came over from Norway every autumn. Eyed Deputy Firkin's apple-tree that hung over the New River : felt very desirous of bringing down a leash of pip- pins, but saw a little man in black on the watch. Jack Juniper shut both his eyes and pulled his trig- ger : down dropped the man : all took to our heels, with our heads full of the new drop. At length, says Lawyer Kit, " Let's go back and get him an apothecary ; if he dies after that, it will be only Jelo tie sey Back we stole, in sad tribulation, and found, to our great relief, that Jack had shot a scarecrow. Tom chano-cd trowsers with the de- ceased, his own being a little the worse for wear : Canonbury clock began to toll, and we made the best of our w ay towards " The Shepherd and Shep- herdess, "■ firing in the air to take the chance of whatever might be flying that way. Saw a fine turkey under a Avicker enclosure ; rammed down cartridge : 242 THE good-fellow's calendar. presented, and pulled trigger : no effects : remem- bered Gargle''s prescription as to pills — " If one won't do, Why then take two :" and rammed down another cartridge ; still no ef- fects : ditto with four more : at last bang off went my musquet : thought there was an end of the world: fell senseless upon my back, and when I opened my eyes, found Tom Tiffany smacking my palms with an old shoe, taken from an adjoining dust-heap, and Jack Juniper pouring water into my mouth taken from an adjoining ditch. 5 p. M. — Felt much soreness about my left shoulder, and determined to poach no more upon Finsbury Manor. Climbed up an Islington coach; took a s^at upon the box, and put my fire-arms between my legs, and my ])ag in the boot. De- scended at the back of the 'Change, crossed into Lombard-street ; and having arrived safe and sound in Rush-lane, gave Molly the game to dress for supper, and walked up stairs to drink a comfort- able dish of tea with Mrs. Swansdown. 2nrf— 1821. A Notice of the above date was posted up, by order of Lord Camden, in the County of Kent ; the following is a copy : — SEPTEMBER. 243 " Notice is hereby given, that the Marquis of Camden (on accoiuit of the backwardness of the harvest) will not shoot liimself^ nor any qf his tenants, till the 14th of September." (jth—\im. The commencement of Shakspeare's Jubilee, at Stratford-upon-Avon, of which Fcote gave the fol- lowing ludicrous description : — " A Jubilee, (saith he) as it hath lately appeared, is a public invitation, circulated and urged by puflP. ing, to go post without horses, to an obscure borough without i-epresentatives, governed by a mayor and aldermen who are no magistrates, to celebrate a irreat Poet whose own works have made him im- mortal — by an Ode without poetry, music without melody, dinners without victuals, and lodgings with- out beds ; a masquerade where half the people are without masks, a horse race knee-deep in water, fire- works that stubbornly refuse to emit a spark, and a gingerbread amphitheatre that tumbles to pieces, like a house of cards, as soon as it is finished." 8'indow-glass : they all appeared infected by the weather, and disap- peared one after the other, without exchanging a word. I sauntered to the window, and stood gazing at SEPTEMBER. 247 the people, picking their way to church, with petti- coats hoisted mid-leg high, and dripping umbrellas. The bell ceased to toll, and the streets became silent. I then amused myself with watching the daughters of a tradesman opposite, who being confined to the house for fear of wetting their Sunday finery, played off their charms at the front windows, to fas- cinate the chance tenants of the Inn. They, at length, were summoned away by a vigilant vinegar- faced mother, and I had nothing further from with- out to amuse me. What was I to do, to pass away the long-lived day ? I was sadly nervous and lonely ; and every thino- about an inn seems calculated to make a dull day ten times duller. Old newspapers, smelling of beer and tobacco-smoke, and which I had already read half a dozen times ; good for nothing books, that were worse than rainy weather. I bored myself to death with an old volume of the Lady''s Maga- zine. I read all the common-place names of ambi- tious travellers, scrawled on the panes of glass ; the eternal families of the Smiths, and the Browns, and the Jacksons, and the Johnsons, and all the other sons ; and I deciphered several scraps of fatiguing inn-window poetry, which I have met with in all parts of the world. The day continued lowering and gloomy ; the slovenly, ragged, spongy clouds, drifted heavily along ; there was no variety, even in the rain ; it was 248 THE good-fellow's calendar. a dull, continued, monotonous patter, patter, pater; excepting, now and then, I was enlivened by the idea of a brisk shower, from the rattling of the drops upon a passing umbrella. It was quite refreshing (if I may be allowed a hackneyed phrase of the day), when, in tlie course of the morning, a horn blew, and a stage-coach whirled through the street, with outside passengers stuck all over it, cowering under cotton umbrellas, and seethed together, and reeking with the steams of wet box-coats and upper Benjamm/f. The sound brought out from their lurking-places a crew of vagabond boys, and vagabond dogs, and the carrotty-headed ostler, and that non-descript animal, yclept Boots, and all the other vagabond race that infest the purlieus of an Inn ; but the bustle was transient ; the coach again whirled on its way, and boy and dog, and ostler and 13oots, all slunk back to their holes; the street again be- came silent, and the rain continued to rain on. In fact, there was no hope of its clearing up : the baro- meter pointed to rainy weather ; mine hostess's tor- toise-shell cat sat by the fire, washing her face, and rubbing her paws over her ears ; and on referring to the Almanack, I found a direful prediction •stretching from the top of the page to the bottom, through the whole month, " Expect— much — rain — about — this — time." I was dreadfully hip})ed. The hours seemed REPTEMflER. 249 as if they would never creep by. The very tickiug of the clock became irksome. At length the still- ness of the house was interrupted by tlie ringing of a bell. Shortly after, I heard the voice of a waiter at the bar, " The Stout Gentleman, in No. 13, wants his breakfast. Tea, and bread and butter, with ham and eggs ; the eggs not to be too much done." In such a situation as mine, every incident was of importance. Here was a subject of specula- tion presented to my mind ; and ample exercise for my imagination. I am prone to paint pictures to myself; and on this occasion I had some materials to work upon. Had the guest up-stairs been men- tioned as Mr. Smith, or Mr. Brown, or Mr. Jackson, or merely as " The Gentleman in No. IS," it would have been a perfect blank to me ; I should have thouglit nothing of it ; but "The Stout Gentleman!" the very name had something in it of the jnctu- resque. It at once gave the size ; it embodied the personage to my mind''s eye ; and my fancy did the rest He was stout ; or, as some term it, lusty ; in all probability, therefore, he was advanced in life, some people expanding as they grow old. By his break- fastinff rather late, and in his own room, he must be a man accustomed to live at his ease, and above the necessity of early rising ; no doubt, a round, rosy, lusty old Gentleman. There was another violent ringing. The Stout M 5 250 THE good-fellow's calendar. Gentleman was impatient for his breakfast. He was evidently a man of importance ; " well to do in the world ;" accustomed to be promptly waited upon ; of a keen appetite, and a little cross when hungry. " Perhaps," thought I, " he may be some London Alderman ; or, who knows but he may be a Mem- ber of Parliament !" The breakfast was sent up, and there was a short interval of silence ; he was doubtless making the tea. Presently, there was a violent ringing ; and, before it could be answered, another ringing, still more violent. " Bless me ! what a choleric old Gentleman I" The waiter came down in a huff. The butter was rancid ; the eggs were overdone ; the ham was too salt; — the Stout Gentleman was evidently nice in his eating; one of those who eat and growl, and keep the waiter on the trot ; and live in a state mil'itant with the household. The Hostess got into a fume. I should observe, that she was a brisk coquettish woman ; a little of a shrew, and some- thing slammerkin, l)ut very pretty withal ; with a nincompoop for a liiisband, as shrews are apt to have. She rated the servants roundly for their neg- ligence in sending up so bad a breakfast, but said not a word against the Stout Gentleman ; by which I clearly perceived, that he must be a man of conse- quence, entitled to make a noise, and to give trouble at a country Iim. Other eggs and ham, and bread and butter, were sent u]). They appeared to be SEPTEMBER. 251 more graciously r-eccived ; at least, there was no fur- ther complaint. I had not made many turns about " The Travellers'' Room,"'"' when there was another I'inging. Shortly afterwai*ds, there was a stir and an inquest about the house. The Stout Gentleman wanted " The Times,'' or " Chronicle" newspaper. I set him down, therefore, for a "Whig ; or ratlier, from his being so absolute and lordly where he had a chance, I suspected him of being a radical. Hunt, I had heard, was a large man ; " who knows," thought I, " but it is Hunt himself."" My curiosity began to be awakened. I in- (juired of the waiter, who was this Stout Gentleman that was making all this stir ; but I could get no information. Nobody seemed to know his name. The Landlords of bustling Inns seldom trouble their heads about the names or occupations of their tran- sient guests. The colour of a coat, the shape or size of the person, is enough to suggest a travelling name. It is either the Tall Gentleman, or the Short Gentleman, or the Gentleman in Black, or the Gentleman in Snuff-colour ; or, as in the present instance, tiie Stout Gentleman ; a designation of the kind, once hit on, answers every purpose, and saves all further inquiry. Rain — rain — rain ! pitiless, ceaseless rain ! No such thing as putting a foot out of doors, and no occupation or anuisement within. By-and-bye, I heard some one walking over-head. It was in the Stout Gentleman's room. He evi- 252 THE GOOD-rELLOw''s CALENDAK. dcntly was a large man, by the heaviness of his tread ; and an old man, from his wearing such creaking soles, " Heis,doubtless," thoughtl, "some rich old square-toes of regular habits, and is now taking exercise after breakfast." I had to go to work at this picture again, and to paint him entirely different. I now set him down for one of those stout gentlemen that are frequently met with, swaggering about the doors of country inns. Moist, merry fellows, in Belcher handker- chiefs, whose bulk is a little assisted by rnalt liquors. Men who have seen the world, and been sworn at Highgate; who are used to tavern-life; up to all the tricks of tapsters, and knowing in the ways of sinful publicans. Free livers on a small scale, who ai-e prodigal within the compass of a guinea; who cidl all the waiters by name, tousle the maids, gossip with the landlady at the bar, and prose over a pint of port, or a glass of negus, after dinner. The morning wore away in forming these and similar surmises. As fast as I wove one system of belief, some movement of the unknown would completely overturn it, and throw all my thoughts again into confusion. Such are the solitary opera- tions of a feverish mind. I was, as I have said, extremely nervous ; and the continual meditation on the concerns of this invisible personage, began to have its effect. I was getting a fit of the fidgets. Dinner-time came. I hoped the Stout Gentleman SEPTEMBER. 2oS might dine in " The Travellers' Room," and that I mio-ht, at length, get a view of his person ; but no, he had dinner served in his own room. What could be the meaning of this solitude and mystery? He could not be a radical ; there was something too aristocratical in thus keeping himself apart from the rest of the world, and condemning himself to his own di-dl company throughout a rainy day. And then, too, he lived too well for a discontented poh- tician. He seemed to expatiate on a variety of dishes, and to sit over his wine, like a jolly friend of good living. Indeed, my doidjts on this head were soon at an end; for he could not liave finished his first bottle, before I could faintl}' hear him humming a tune; and, on listening, I found it to be " God save the King." 'Twas plain, then, he was no radical, but a faithful subject ; one that grew loyal over his bottle ; and was ready to stand by King and Constitution, when he could stand by nothing else. 13ut who could he be ! 'My conjec- tures began to run wild. Was he not some personage of distinction, travelling incog.? " Who knows!" said I, at my wit's end ; " it may be one of the Royal Family, for aught I know, for they are all stout gentlemen."" The weather continued rainy. The mysterious unknown kept his room ; and, as far as I could judge, his chair, for I did not hear him move. In the mean time, as the day advanced, " The Travellers' Room'' began to be frequented. 254) THE good-fellow's calendar. Some, who had just arrived, came in, buttoned up in box-coats ; others came home, who had been dispersed about the town. Some took their dinners, and some their tea. Had I been in a different mood, I should have found entertainment in study- ing this peculiar class of men. There were two, especially, who were regular wags of the road, and up to all the standing jokes of travellers. They had a thousand sly things to say to the waiting-maid, whom they called Louisa and Ethelinda, and a dozen other fine names ; changing the name every time, and chuckling amazingly at their own waggery. My mind, however, had become completely engrossed by the Stout Gentleman. He had kept my fancy in chase during a long day, and it was not now to be diverted from the scent. The evening gradually wore away, the Travellers read the papers two or three times over ; some drew round the fire, and told long stories about their horses, about their adventures, their overturns, and breakings down. They discussed the credits of dif- ferent Merchants, and different Inns ; and the two wags told several choice anecdotes of pretty cham- bermaids and landladies. All this passed as they were quietly taking what they called their " night- caps ;■" that is to say, strong glasses of brandy and water and sugar, or some other mixture of the kind; after which, they, one after another, rung for Boots and the chambermaid, and walked off to SEPTEMBER. 255 l)ed in old shoes, cut down into marvellously unconi- fortcible slippers. There was only one man left : a short-legged, long-bodied, plethoric fellow, with a very large sandy head. He sat by himself, with a glass of port-wine negus, and a spoon ; sipping, and stirring, and meditating, and sipping, until nodiing was left but the spoon. He gradually fell asleep, but upright in his chair, with the empty glass standing before him ; and the candle seemed to fall asleep too, for the wick grew long and black, and cabbaged at the end, and dimmed the little light that remained in the chamber. The gloom that now prevailed was contagious, .\round hung the shapeless and almost spectral box-coats 'of de- ])arted Travellers, long since buried in deep sleep. I only heard the ticking of the clock, with the deep-drawn breathings of the sleeping toper, and the clripi^ngs of the rain, — drop — drop — drop, — from the eaves of the house. The church-bells chimed midnight. All at once, the Stout Gentle- man began to walk over-head, pacing slowly back- wards and forwards. There was something ex- tremely awful in all this, especially to one in my state of nerves. These ghastly great-coats, these guttural breathings, and the creaking footsteps of this mys- terious being. His steps grew fainter and fainter, and at length, died away. I could bear it no longer ; I was wound up to the desperation of a 25C THE good-fellow's calendar. Iiero of romance. " Be he who, or what he may,"' said I to myself, " I'll have a sight of him !" I seized a chamher candle, and hurried up to No. 13. Thi' door stood ajar. I hesitated— I entered. The room was deserted. There stood a large broad-bottomed elbow-chair at a table, on which was an empty tum- bler, and a " Times'"' newspaper ; and the room smelt powerfully of Stilton cheese. The mysterious stranger had evidently but just retired. I turned off', sorely disappcinted, to my room, which had been changed to the front of the house. As I went along the cor- ridor, I saw a large pair of boots, with dirty waxed tops, standing at the door of a bed-chamber. They doubtless belonged to the unknown ; but it would not do to disturb so redoubtable a personage in his den. lie might discharge a pistol, or something worse, at my head. I went to bed, therefore, and lay awake half the night, in a terribly nervous state ; and, even when I fell asleep, I was still haunted in my dreams by the idea of the Stout Gentleman, and his wax-topped boots. I slept rather late the next morning, and was awakened by some stir or bustle in the house, which I could not at first comprehend; until, getting more awake, I found there was a mail-coach starting from the door. Suddenly there was a cry from below, — " The Gentleman has forgot his umbrella ! Look for the Gentleman's umbrella in No. 13 !'"' I SEPTEMBER. 25T heard an immediate scamperin biped woe the quadruped shall enter, And j\Ian and Horse go lialf and half, As if their griefs met in a common CciUcivr ! 24f that Theatre are likely to perform tlie prinripal characteis iii> " For tlie Benefit of Lonl Eldon," — who has very properly ordered the money drawn by the attractive ytslris and the French Monkey to be paid into his Till in " The Ciuuicery Court." 278 THE good-fellow's calendar. consisting of 'po'tson boxols, hroheii dag'ffcrs, dislo- cated spearSf and a score or two of rapiers that had shone for centuries in the mimic fields of Bosworth and Dunsinane, were, witli sundry other conglome- rations, packed in a cart, and sent forward under the escort of some of the most trustworthy of the corps. They proceeded with great lafety till they came within a few miles of Limerick, which city " met their seeking eyes" as grey dawn began to overspread the horizon ; or, as one less metaphorical would say, as the Sun pulled off his night cap to begin the morning's business. At this tumultuous period, the myrmidons of the executive government were on the alert in all directions, to apprehend suspicious characters, or " jy^c-p oday hoijs^'' as they were termed ; and a numerous host Avas sprinkled about the southern districts of that un- happy Isle : a party then hsy in ambush on the road our heroes were approaching; and, as the cart crav.'led lazily up the summit of a hill, it was sur- rounded by " as gallant a set as ever cried stand to a traveller."*' The pale-faced, woe-begone votaries of the drama, were somcAvhat alarmed at this stop- p»age of their career ; and after rul)bing their og;lers, which pothecri and the coolness of the night had kept awake till that eventful minute, they civilly " begged lave to ax the jontlemcn v,'hat was the matter .?" " Is it what's the matter, you'd be after knowing ?" said a voice, in the true I^Iunster dia- OCTOBEK. 2T9 Icct ; '• by dt powers, we'll satisfy every mother's son of vou ; sure wc^-e the KhifT''s representatives, honeij^ and we want to finrcli the cart."' After this declaration, the luihappv ilfummers thouglit it best to state who and what they were; and to assure their new friends, that the only murdrrs they ever perpetrated were on the stage, and all the living- craturs they ever mtinglcd were some of Shak- speare's charactL'rs. But all would not do ; the Oihcers of Justice knew better, and swore by St. Patricli's great foe, and might the next noggin of whiskey be their poison, but they were desperate, blood-tiiirsty, ill-looking bog-trotters, and proceeded to search the cart. "\^' hen they had removed the covering, which was a canvass sea, in which fowls had hatched for some months past, and proceeded a little furUier, and belield a dozen or two of dafraers and swords of all chvonoloQ-ics, from the time of Aleibiades to Tom Thumb the Great, a • ivhilldao was raised, sufficient to shake one of the husest Kerry mountains from its base; and the poor spalpeens of players were marched in triumpli into Limerick, and lodged in custody of the nearest magistrate, who being an Orangeman that saw a pike in the frizzle of every whisker that was brought before him, determined, very sagaciously, to detain them in close confinement until the matter was sid)- mitted to the Lord Lieutenant; when, to their great joy, an order was immediately transniittetl to Limerick for their release. 280 THE GOOD-F£T,LO\V'S CALENDAR. In the will of William Shackell, Es(j. Governor of Plymouth, proved (of the annexed date) in the Prerogative Court of Canterbury, is the following finale : — " I desire that my body may be kept as long as it may not be offensive. I also make this further request to my dear wife : that as she has been trou- bled with one oldjbol, she will not think of marry- ing a second. 18^A— 1817. John Philpot Cuiirax died, in the G5th year of his age. Though Curran, from the first dawn of intel- lect, in his puerile days, gave eminent proofs that the seeds of wit and talents were not sparingly sown in liis composition, the humble circumstances of his parents afforded no prospect of an education to bring out the native lustre of his capacity ; and, hut for circumstances wholly fortuitous, he might have lived and died with fame no higher than that of a village wit, and the chance of succeeding to his father's office *. The village school received him as an early pupil, where he soon evinced a capacity superior to his little ragged companions ; and in the hours of play ♦ Seneschal in the Manor Court of Newmarket, in the County of Cork. OCTOBKll. 281 he proved his superiority in all the variegated sci- ences of marbles and ehuck-farthint;-, and evinced a sportive fancy in all the arch pranks, and practical stratagems of the play-groinid. His father, even if he had capacity, had little leisure to attend to the ])rooTess of his son"'s education. The youngster was therefore left to follow his own devices, and pursue the bent of his humour in every species of lively fun and arch eccentricity. At Fairs, where wit and whiskey alternately excited the laugh and the wrangle ; at zoakcs., the last social obsequies to the dead in the village, at which sorrow and mirth in turns beguiled each other, young Curran was always present — now a iiihne, and now a mourner. The projihecies of the more serious began to augur most imfavourablv to the futiu-e fortunes of voung Pickle, while he was the favourite of all the cheer- ful. The court of his father was quite scandalised, but all acknowledged him the ley-itimate heir of his mother's wit. A new scene occurred in the aniusenieiU< of the village, in which young Curran made his debut as a principal actor, with much eclat to his comic fame ; and which, through life, he took great pleasure to relate as one of his first incentives to eloquence, especially to that part of it whicli Denwisthcnes urges as the first, second, and third essential to the success of an orator, — namely, action. The itine- rant exhibitor of a svreet puppet-show, in the course 282 THE good-fellow's calendar,. of his tour, arrived at Newmarket, much to the edification and amusement of the staring crowd ; and the comic feats of Mr. Punch, and the elo- tjuence of Ms man, superseded every other topic of conversation. Unfortunately, however, the second- named actor in this drama was seized witli sickness, and the whole establishment was threatened with ruin. IJut little Philpot, who was a constant mem- ber of the auditory, and eagerly imbibed at eyes and ears the whole exhibition, proposed himself to the manager, as a volunteer substitute for PuncJCs mail. This offer from so young and promising an amatenr, was gladly accepted by the manager, who was well aware of the advantages of an arch young comedian, acquainted with all the characters, and local history of the place ; ])ut the yoiuig actor declined salary, and only stipulated, that he should remain perfectly incog, and that his name was not to be known, which condition of the treaty the manager faithfully kept. The success of the sub- stitute was (juite miraculous; immense crowds attended every performance ; the new actor was universally admired, and the crowded audiences were astonished at tlic knowledge he displayed. He developed tlie village politics, pourtraycd all characters, described the fairs, blabbed the wake secrets, caricatured the spectators, disclosed every private amour, detailed all the scanda! of the village, and attacked with hunrorous ridicule even ocTocr.u. 283 the sacerdotal dignity of the ])anslj Priest. But this was tlie signal for general outcry ; satire had transgressed its due limits ; and men and maidens, who laughed at their lu'ighhours'' ])ietures, and pretended to recognise their own, were horrfied at such profane familiarity with the Clergy. Religion, as on lai-ger theatres, was the scapegoat, and sen- tence of punishment was unanimously passed on Mr. Punch and his man ; the manager, however, kept the grand secret, and his prudence prevented any inquiry after such dangerous celebrity ; and Curran, who was through life, in his convivial hours, the soul of mirth, frctpiently declared, that he never jiroduced such an effect ujion any audience as in the huu'ible character of Air. Punch's man. When Mr. Curran was passing his first summer at Cheltenham, generally inattentive as he was to his dress, he was in a sort of disguise ; and little notice being taken of him, he had resort to a story to draw liimself into notice. With the straight- forward, credulous character of the English, he was perfectly well acquainted, with which he often eked out a lale. The conversation of the table turning altogether on the stu])id, savage, and dis- gusting amusement of cock-fighting, he was detj^r- mined to put an end to it by the incredible story of the AVino Cats. lie prefaced it by saying, that in his country there prevailed a harbarous custom of fighting th.ese animals in the same way as mastiffs 28 1< TiiK good-fellow's calendar. are fought in England, or bulls in Spain, - That being once in Sligo, a fishing-town in the north-west of Ireland, he was invited to see this grand spectacle. That the people of rank and condition, in that part of the country, had these Cats regularly bred and trained for the purpose, and crowded into town and took lodgings for the week, whenever these games were to be celebrated. The Corinthian chariot races were never more highly the scenes of gaiety and mirth in Greece, than these Avere at Sligo. At one of them, three matches were fought on the first day with the most furious courage, with all the intrepi- dity of valour and skill, all that brutal rage, that feudal clans could furnish ; and before the third of them was finished (on which bets ran very high) dinner was announced in the Inn where the battle was fought. The company agreed, though reluctantly, to return, and to lock up the room, leaving the key in trust with Mr. Curran, who jjrotested that he never was so shocked, — that his head hung heavy upon his shoulders, — that his heart sunk within him, on entering with the company into the room, and finding that the Cats had actually eaten each other vp, save some little hits of tails^ which were scattered round the room. 9.\st—\Cm. Sir Georoe Etheridge, in a Letter of this date, written at Ratisbon, and addressed to his friend the OCTOBKU. 285 Duke of Buckinirliam, gives a long story of an " Ephesian matron/'' in tlie person of a young widow, whose young husband had just been drowned. The story is too long to detail ; we therefore only state, that the Lady would not be comforted, arraigned Providence, refused food, had every room, and even the tea-boards and fans, hung with black, and shewed every genuine mark of despair. Sir George says, " Tetronius's Ephesian matron was but a type of this lovely and unha})py German widow". Sir George, however, charitably remon- strated, telling her, that grief ruined the very finest faces ; that tears, having abundance of saline par- ticles in them, not only spoiled the complexion, but hastened wrinkles. The Lady, upon this, called for a looking-glass, became convinced and more com- posed, saw select company ; and this phcrnix of the sex then married directly an Ensign of Count Trau- tonandorfs regiment, who had only his pay to live on. Having in our first sheet'* given a choice instance of an " Ephesian matron," we refrain from treating the reader with any thing further on this subject, merely wondering what size bottles might l)e re- cjuired as their lachrymatories '■ Answer, qiuirt bottles, undoubtedly ; not those blown at the rate of fiflt'cn or s'lAtccn to the dorxn ; and which said * Vhlt.' Januarv 4. J!86 THE GOOD-FELI.Ow's CALENDAR. deceitful practice once roused Sir Boyle Roche, in the Irish House of Commons, to propose an Act, " That every quart bottle should hold a quart >•>•> nst—17Ti. Samuel Foote, the English Aristoj^hanes, died. The witty Sam Foote clearly demonstrated the advantages of not paying our debts. " This," says he, " however, presupposes a person to be a man of fortune, otherwise he would not gain credit. It is the art of living without money. It saves the trouble and expense of keeping accounts ; and it also makes other people work, in order to give our- selves repose. It prevents the cares and embar- rassments of riches. It checks avavice, and en- courages generosity ; as people are most conmionly more liberal of others' goods than of their own : while it pos'sesses that genuine spark of primitive Christianity wh'ch would inculcate a constant com- munion of all property. In short, it draws on us the inquiries and attentions of the world while we live, and makes us sincerely regi-etted when we die." Foote once bought a single pillow, after attend- ing every day at the auction of ]\Ir. Fordyce's goods. Upon the query being put, wliy he did so ? he re- plied, *' As the late owner could sleep so well upon it, owing so much money, perhaps he might also, as he did not sleep well at night under similar cir- cumstances."" OCTOBEU. 287 Among other invcntion.s to please the town, which Foote knew so well how to please, at the conclusion of his ])lay of " The Ktii^-hU,"' he arranoxcl a feigned concert of vocal music between hco Cuts, in burlesque of the Italian Opera. The principal performer in this novel species of entertainment was a man well known at that time by the appellation of Cat Hauris, of whom the folloAung: anecdote is related : — Harris, being engaged by Foote for this purjjose, had attended several rehearsals, at which his merc'hiir gave infinite satisfaction to the manager and the per- formeis : at the last rehearsal, however, Harris was missing ; and, as nobody knew Avhere he lived, Shuler was prevailed upon to find him out, if possible. He in{|uired, in vain, for some time, and was at length informed that he lived in a certain court in the Minories; this information was suffi- cient for a man of congenial talents, like Shuter ; for, the moment he entered the court, he set up a cat solo, which instantly roused his brother mu- sician in his garret, who answered him in the same tune, and then accompanied Shuter to the Opera. Foote, at one time, in order, as he said, to make Mrs. Footers life more comfortable, took it into his head to part from her. Her friends remonstrating upon this ill usage, he consented to an accommo- dation, but the lady was overturned and bruised on the road. Mr. Murphy, one of the partv at the 288 THE G001)-FELL0w"'s CALENDAR reconciliation dinner, asking- Fcote if the lady had arrived, " Oh yes," said Foote, "you will find her in the drawing-room, and from her face you may learn geography, as it is a complete map of the world : on one side you may see the Bhie Moun- ta'tns on the other the BlacJc Forest ; here the Red Sea, and here (pointing to his forehead) you may evidently behold the Rochs of Sc'dly.'''' 22wrf— 1822. The " New York Daily Advertiser,"" of this date, contains the subjoined hit at the filthy state of the leading streets in this " Athens of the United States ;"" " Any person in want of a dead pig may find one, that will pi'obably answer his purpose, in the iniddle of Broadway, between Broome and Spring Streets. Applicants need not be in any great haste, as it is expected that he will lie there several days ; and if the warm weather should last, and the car- riages will let him alone, he will grow — bigger and Jnggery 30M— 1824. The Rev. II. C. Maturin, Curate of St. Peter's, Dublin, and author of one of the most immoral and trinnpery tragedies* that ever disgraced the stage, or gratified the low taste of an acting manager — died. * Bertram. OCTOBER. 289 This exemplary pilhir of the EstabUshed Church was exceedingly vain both of his person and accom- plishments ; and as his income would not allow him to attract attention by the splendour of his dress and manners, he seldom failed to do so by their singularity. Mr. Maturin was tall, slender, but well proportioned, and, on the whole, a good figure, which he took care to display in a well-made black coat, tightly buttoned, and some odd, light-coloured, stocking-web pantaloons, surmounted, in winter, by a coat of prodigious dimensions, gracefully thrown on, so as not to obscure the symmetry it affected to protect. The Curate of St. Feter^'s sang and danced, and prided himself on performing the movements and evolutions of the Qnadnlle, certainly equal to any other divine of the Established Church, if not to any private lay gentleman of the three kingdoms. It often happened, too, that INIr. INfaturin either laboured imdcr an attack of gout, or met with some accident, which compelled the use of a slipper or a bandage on one foot or one leg ; and, by an unac- countable congruity of mischances, he was uniformly compelled on these occasions to appear in the public thoroughfares of Dublin, where the melancholv spectacle of a beautiful limb in pain never failed to excite the sighs and sympathies of all the interesting persons who passed, as well as to prompt their curiosity to make audible remarks or inquiries respecting the possessor. o 290 THE good-fellow's CALENDAR. After our Readers have perused the foregoing edifying description of the Reverend Gentleman, we think they will agree Avith us in thinking that it was a great pity he did not answer the following Adver- tisement, which graced the pages of " The Montldy Mirror'''' some years ago : — " Wanted, for a newly-erected Chapel, Hear Grosvenor Square, a gentleman of elegant manners, and insinuating address, to conduct the theological department to a refined audience. It is not neces- sary that he believe in the Thirty-nine Articles ; but it is expected that he should possess a white hand and a diamond ring ; he will be expected to leave out vulgar ideas, and denvuiciations against polite vices which he may meet with in- the Bible ; and, upon no account, be guilty of wounding the ears of his auditory with the words h — 11, or d n. One who lisps, is near-sighted, and who has a due regard for amiable weaknesses, will be preferred. " N. B. — If he is of pleasing and accommodating manners, he will have a chance of being introduced to the first company, and three card parties every Sunday evening. One who knows a few college jokes, or who has been Chaplain to the Whip Club, will be preferred. He will have no occasion to administer Baptism, &c. &c. there being an old gentleman employed, who, on account of extreme distress, has agreed, for ten pounds per annum, to preach in the afternoon, and do all the under work. XOVEMBER. 291 *' Letters must be addressed to James Speculate, Es({. Surveyor's Oflicc, New Square, Mary-le- Bone." NOVEMBER. Znd—lS^5. On this night a circumstance occurred at a gen- tleman's house in Northampton-square, which we must leave to the solution of the learned Professors of the New London University, for we fear it is too puzzling for the sages of Oxford or Cambridge. For some weeks previously a panic had been spreading through* the family. Noises were heard at the very " witching time of night" — doors opened and closed — light, gliding footsteps faintly echoed on the stairs. It could not be robbers, for tlie gentlemen of tliat profession seldom depart empty-handed. Could it be a ghost ? The notion is rather obsolete. The house was not old enough for a disembodied spirit to lay a legitimate claim to its occupation. No love-lorn maid-qf-all-iiork had hanged herself in her garters on the premises, nor had any portly butler rivalled Werter in the fatal excesses of his sensibility. Still the belief made its way in the family. Jenny, the housemaid, v,\\o slept in the front attic, and James, the footman, who was placed (at a cautious distance from the 292 THE good-fellow's CALENDAR. females) on the ground floor, were the first to adopt this creed. They soon converted CaroUne, the nursery maid, who impressed it as an article of faith on the minds of little Master Philip and Miss Emmelina. Mamma heard their infantine tales till they made her half a believer ; in short, there was no determined sceptic left in the Avhole house but the gentleman to whom it belonged. Communicating his intentions to no one but his lady, (though we will not aver that she may have dropped a hint or two to Caroline or Jane,) he two nights successively sat watching, in a room on the first landing-place, for the Ghost, resolved to " Speak to it, though Hell itself should gape !" The perturbed spirit, however, oh these occasions, was provokingly quiet ; and the Gentleman, soon tired of GJiost-icatclimg, gave up the hope of pene- trating the mystery. Some nights now passed on, and all still remained quiet, when accident pro- duced a solution of the enigma. One night Mr. , being troubled (like I ago) with a " raging tooth," lay tossing on his sleepless bed, when sud- denly a footstep met his ear ; he overcame the sense of pain, stole gently from his bed, cautiously opened die door, and straining his eyesight down the stair- case, beheld, by the faint glimpses of the moon, a figure all in white, gliding softly toward the lower part of the house. He scarcely knew what to think of this apparition. The hour, the darkness, the NOVEMBER. 293 white figure, faintly seen, and scarcely heard to move, at first " Made his seated heart knock at his ribs.'" But he summoned up resolution ; and as nothing is so offensive to a ^enu'me Ghost as candlelight, he ap- plied the matcii to his phosphorus box, ht his taper, and pursued the path the apparition had taken. It had vanished. When he reached the ground floor, nothing was to be seen. All the doors were shut, and there was no way that the spirit could have passed, but through one of them. Mr. tried the doors ; they were all fast until he came to that of James's room, which, on his pushing it, gave way, and discovered the fair Jane in that dress in which Tam O'Shanter saw the young witch of Alloa. ]\Ir. loudly began to reprimand both Jenny and James, when the former, with great expression of surprise, exclaimed — " Dear me ! Where am I ? How could I get here ? I must have been xcalking in my sleep .'" 5th—lG0o. GUNPOWDER PLOT. HoxE, in that admirable publication, " The Every-Day Book," says — " On the fifth of November, a year or two ago, an outrageous sparkle of humour broke forth. A poor hard-working man, while at breakfast in his garret, 294 THE good-fellow's calendar. was enticed from it by a message, that some one who- knew him wished to speak to him at the street door, When he got there he was sliaken hands witli, and invited to a chair. He had scarcely said ' nay' before ' the ayes had him,' and clapping him in the vacant seat, tied him there. They then painted liis face to their liking, put a wig and paper cap on his head, fastened a dark lantern in one of his hands, and a bundle of matches in the other, and carried him about all day, with shouts of laughter and liuzzas, begging for their ' Guy.' When he was released at night he went home, and having slept upon his wrongs, he carried them the next morning to a police office, whitlier his offenders were pre- sently brought by warrant, before the magistrates, who ordered them to find bail or stand committed ; these ' ministering spirits' of the Law deeming it illegal to S77iug' a man for ' a Guy.' " lith. Michaelmas Term begins : — and as our Volume is certain of being perused by many of the blue bag" gentry, for their especial edification we reprint the following useful advice : — You are to consider yourself as one of the limbs of that noble profession, the head of which takes precedence of all the lay Peers in England, and whose Members have swelled the llic;ht Honour- ables of the Court Calendar more than the Navy^ NOVEMBER. 295 Army, and the Church put together. You ought therefore to imacrine yourself a man of some conse- quence, especially tluring Term-time, and are entitled to act accordingly. For this purpose you must affect to be very familiar Nvith the names of the leading Counsel, and should quote your friends, Erskine, Mingay, and Scott, upon all occasions. As you have then but a step between you and the Bench, after the second pint, I see no good reason (as I am sure that you are equally well acquainted with them) why you may not make free with your old friends, Kenyon and Loughborough. A smutty story told you on the Circuit by W — s, or a little anecdote about Lord Thurlow, if accompanied with a few oaths, a dark complexion, and a protrusion of the eyebrows, will give you some consequence at a Sunday ordinary. If your IVIaster — I beg your pardon, your Employer — be of a lazy disposition, you also may indulge yourself of a morning : no gentleman should be in office before ten o'clock, more espe- cially if the fumes of his last overtaker of Burton Ale have not evaporated, or if he has fatigued himself during the preceding evening by his legal exertion in mimicking any of the twelve Judges. In the moments of relaxation, more especially during the long vacation, you will fmd a constant source of amusement in making love to the daugh- 296 THE good-fellow's CALENDAR. ter of the Attorney with wliom you hve. As a symbol of your constancy, you may write the first letter on parchment in a strong engrossing hand. If she has been much used to her father's clerks, you may indulge in the Saxon character, or black letter, as you need not then be in any fear of a discovery from the mother or servants — or per- haps, (good man !) even from the father himself. An intrigue of this kind Avill answer two pur- poses ; for, first, it will divert your mind after the fatigues of business ; and, secondly, it will moisten your lips after the dry study of the law, as you will be always certain of a cup of tea, when Mamma happens to be engaged at Mrs. Latitat's rout, and Papa is drinking his crank at Nando's with an officer of — the four counties. If you have been but a short time in the business, perhaps your own heart, or, more likely, a friend from the country, may reproach you with baseness and ingratitude ; in such a case, be sure to affirm with boldness — for without boldness, and even brass, what figure can you make in the profession } — that Attornies"' Clerks have a right to court Attornies' Daugliters, by immemorial custom ; and then jocularly add, that you have not only prece»- dent, but even law on your side; for Jacob and Lord Coke both assert, " that custom is the soul of the common law." There is one lucrative part of your business^ NOVEMBER. 297 which I would specially recommend to you. If you come from Norfolk, or indeed any of the game counties, you must undoubtedly know what a setter is. Be sure, when you have got a writ to execute for a generous plaintiff, to make yourself acquainted with tlie person of the defendant, the coffee-house he frequents, the residence of his mistress, &o. so that by means of this intelligence you will be able to point with such staunchness to an ignorant or shame- faced bailiff (if ever, in the course of a long practice, you should meet with such a phenomenon), that he may be able to spring the forlorn partridge at a moment's notice, and hagXnva till the next Insolvent Act. If, during the sittings at Westminster, you should happen, either by the absence or indis- position of your principal, to be intrusted, like Judas, with the hag (indeed, some of the commen- tators have affirmed that his, like the lawyers', was of the blue damask), in such a case, you will have no merit, unless you exactly resemble your great prototype. I would therefore advise you to look over the paper of causes, and about the middle of the one immediately preceding yours, to hop off with some other fellow-lalxjurer in the vineyard, to the Exchequer coffee-house, and there, over a beef- steak and a bowl of punch, wish better success to your Client next term — at his own expense. You can never be in want of a good excuse for your o5 298 THE G0OD-rELL0W''s CALENDAIt. conduct ; the Counsel were not prepared — the Wit- nesses were not in the way — and, if you are hard pushed, you may swear that the Judge was in an ill humour, and that you chose rather to be nonsuited, than lose your cause irretrievably. If the Client is rich, you may tip your employer the wink, and he will back you with a thousand cases in point, as he cannot in conscience be angry with your nursing a. fat cause for six months longer, which, had not your prudence interfered, the Lord Chief Justice might have weaned immediately. After having acquired the learning — which some silly people define to be the quirlcs and quibbles of your trade — you will undoubtedly have some thoughts of setting up for yourself ; as it will therefore be necessary to frequent good company, on the score of practice, I would advise you to dine at the Go, drink ale and smoke at the Blue Roarer, sup at the Glue, and take your morning coffee at the Fhiish, 19/^— 179^. The following convivial Will of Samuel Purle- went, late of Lincoln's Inn, in the county of Mid- dlesex, Esq. was this day proved : — " It is my express will and desire that I may be buried at Western, in the County of Somerset, if I die there, if not, to be carried down there, (but not in a hearse,) nor will I have any parade or XOVEMBER. 299 coach to attend upon me, but let me be carried in any vehicle, with all the expedition possible, to liath, so as the same does not exceed the sum of 25/. and when 1 arrive there, I direct six poor people of Western do support my coi-pse to the ^ravc, and that six poor women and six poor men of Western do attend me to the grave, and that I may l)e buried at twelve at noon, and each of them to have half-a-guinea ; and I hereby order and direct, that a good boiled ham, a dozen fowls, a sirloin of beef, with plum-puddings, may be prorided at " The Crown," in Western, for the said eighteen poor people, besides the clerk and sexton. And I allow five guineas for the same ; and I re(juest and hope they will be as merry and cheerful as possible, for I conceive it a mere farce to put on the grimace of weeping, crying, and snivelling, and the like, which can answer no good end, either to the living, or dead, and which I reprobate in the highest terms. Codicil : I desire that after I am buried, there be a colli collation provided at the public- house, a sirloin of beef, potatoes, and a fillet of veal, with plenty of good ale, where I hope they Avill refresh themselves with decency and propriety. No friends or relatives whatever to alluiil mv funeral." In a periodical Work, published this ^Month, in SOO THE good-fellow's calendak. the reign of Queen Anne, is the following Adver, tisement : — " A gentlewoman, who has a great aversion to talking, wants a maid Avho can he silent, and help her in the government of her family. If the said servant can clear-starch, ichisper, and tread softly, she shall have suitable encouragement in her wages." In this month, in 1797, IMrs. Crawford performed for the last time, at Covent-Garden Theatre. This lady's husband, soon after their marriage, in virtue of his conjugal office, became also acting proprietor and manager, not only of the Lady, but of the Theatre, which last did nrtt thrive under his auspices. His civil list was constantly in arrear ; his ministers, from the first-rates down to the scene- shifters, murmured for lack of salaries ; his pur*- veyors out of doors relinquished their contracts and withheld supplies. Retrenchment became the order of the day, and pervaded all departments ; and, to mend matters, he struck out a system of wcono- miclcs, in the banquetting scenes, never before heard of in the annals of mock-festivity. The stage-suppers were , supplied, not by the cook and wine-merchant, but the property-man ; the viands. were composed of timber and pastehourdy painted in diaracter ; and small beer and tinctured water NOVEMBER. 301 substituted the cheering juice of the grape. The musicians deserted the orchestra : and, in short, the whole system of food and payment were raj)idly hastening- to a state of as " unreal mockery'^ as any of the fables of the tragic Muse. In this state of things an Opera was announced ; the entertainments to conclutle with the Farce of " High Life heloxc Sta'trs.'^ The harmonies of the first were entirely vocal, for the fiddlers and other minstrels refused to be instrumental to the enter- tainment of the nigiit. In the Jar ce, the supper scene was supplied from the pantry of \.he property- man ; and all the wines of Philip the butler, " from humble Port to imperial Tokay," were drawn fi-om, the pump or the beer-cask. My Lord Duke com- plained to Sir Harry, that the champagne and burgundy tasted confoundedly strong of the xoater ; and the Baronet, in turn, deplored the hardness of the wooden pheasants., and the toughness of the pasteboard pies. In the mock minuet, between Sir Harry and jVIrs. Kitty, the Baronet observed, " this was the first time he had the honour of dancing at a ball without music ; but he would sinjj the air." The gods in the upper gallery took the hint, and called out to the stage company to retreat a little, and they would supply the nuisic This wag done, and in a minute was commenced a concert, xeoful and detrimental, to the great terror of the audience^ and the discomfiture of the manager ; for such a 302 THE good-fellow's calendar. thunder-storm of benches, bottles, chandeliers, and other missiles, covered the stage, that the remainder of the afterpiece was adjourned shie die, and the Theatre closed for several weeks. About this month London is " gayest of the gay," with fashion and amusement. Tlie following whimsical detail of the struggles of The Giblet Family after sftjle, and their ineffective eiforti to reach the enviable sphere from which they were unhappily excluded, must, we think, divert every Reader : — " I recollect," (says the narrator,) " old Giblet when I was a boy, and he was the most surly cur- mudgeon I ever kncAv. He was a perfect scarecrow to the small-fry of the day, and inherited the hatred of all these unlucky httle shavers ; for never co\ild we assemble about his door of an evening to play, and make a little hubbub, but out he sallied from his nest like a spider, flourished his formidable horsewhip, and dispersed the whole crew in the twinkling of a lamp. I perfectly remember a bill he sent in to my father for a pane of glass I had accidentally broken, which came well nigh get- ting me a sound flogging ; and I remember, as per- fectly, that the next night I revenged myself by breaking half-a-dozen. Giblet was as arrant a grub-worm as ever crawled ; and the only rules of right and wrong lie cared a button for, were NOVEMBKB. 30S the rules of multiplication and addition, which he practised much more successfully than he did anj of the rules of religion or morality. He used to declare they were the true golden rules: and he took special care to put Cocker's Arithmetic in the liands of his children, before they had read ten pages in the Bible or Prayer-book. The practice of these favourite maxims was at length crowned with the harvest of success ; and after a life of incessant self-denial, and starvation, and after en- during all the pounds, shillings, and pence miseriei of a miser, he had the satisfaction of seeinc himself worth aplum, andof dying just as he had determined to enjoy the remainder of his days in contemplating his great wealth and accumulating mortgages. " His children inherited his money ; but they buried the disposition, and every other memoriai of their father, in his grave. Fired with a nobis thirst for st//Ie, they instantly emerged from th*^ retired lane in which themselves and their accom- plishments had hitherto been buried ; and they blazed, and they whizzed, and they cracKxd about town, like a nest of squibs and devils in a firework. " Having once started. The Giblets were deter- mined that nothing should stop them in their career, until they had run their full course and arrived at the very tip-top of stijh Every tailor, every shoemaker, every coachmakcr, every milliner, every mantua-maker, every paper-hangei-, every piano- S04) THE GOOI)-rELLOW''s CALENDAK. teacher, and every dancing-master in the city, were enlisted in their service ; and the wiUing wights most courteously answered their call, and fell to work to build up the fame of The Giblets, as they had done that of many an aspiring family before them. In a little time the young ladies could dance the waltz, thunder Lodoiska, murder French, kill time, and commit violence on the face of nature in a landscape in water-colours, equal to the best lady in the land-.? and the young gentlemen were seen lounging at corners of streets, and driving tandem ; heard talking loud at the theatre, and laughing in church, with as much ease and grace, and modesty, as if they had been gentlemen all the days of their lives. " And The Giblets ' arrayed themselves in scarlet, and in fine linen, and seated themselves in hi not the wish of the Advertisers to disparage such doings. Far from it ; " live and let live" is their maxim. IMany gentlemen, by practice, qualify themselves for public speakers; but good private JJ-'mne?' Compan?/ is still a desideratum. Impressed with this truth, jNIessrs. Clack and Caterer, at a considerable expense, have provided, at their manufactory in Leicester Square, a choice assortment of good Diners-out, of various prices, who, in clean white waistcoats, and at the shortest notice, will attend to enliven any dull gentleman's dull dinner-table. Messrs. Clack and Caterer are possessed of three silver-toned young barristers, who have their way to make in Lincoln's Inn. These gentlemen respectively and anxiously inquire after the health of any married lady's little Char- lotte ; ask when she last heard from Hastings; think they never saw curtains better hung in the whole course of their lives; tenderly caress the pcKxlle tliat occupies the hearth-rug ; and should its front teeth meet in their forefinger, will, for au S^ THE good-fellow's CALENDAR. additional trifle, exclaim, " Pretty little fellow ! I don't wonder he's such a favourite.''' Messrs. Clack and Caterer are also provided with two unbeneficed clergymen, who have guarante short grace, and undertake not to eat of the second course. These gentlemen tell a choice collection of good jokes, with a rigid abstinence from Joe Miller. They have various common-places at hand, which they can throw in when conversation flags. The one of them remarks that London begins to look dull in September, and that Waterloo-place is a great improvement; and the other observes, that Elliston has much beautified Drury Lane, and that Kean's voice is apt to fail him in the fifth act. This kind of talk is not brilliant, but it wears well, and never provokes animosity. Messrs. Clack and Caterer beg also to acquaint the no])ility and gentry, that they have laid in a couple of quadrillers and three pair of parasites ; who take children uj)on their knees in spite of tamarinds and Guava jelly ; cut turbot into choice paralellograms ; pat plain children on the head, and assure their mamma that their hair is not red, but auburn ; never meddle with the two long-necked ])ottles on the table ; address half of their conversa- tion to the lady of the house, and the other half to any deaf gentleman on their other side, who tilts his ear in the hollow of his hand. Should either of these personages be so far forgetful of his duty as DKCEMBER. 327 to contradict a County Member, introduoe Agrieui- tural distress, or prove the cause of the j)resent low prices ; wonder what liappencd at Verona, or who wrote the Scotch novels ; gentlemen are requested to write " bore" upon his back with a piece of chalk (which the butler had better be provided with), and then to return the offender to the Adver- tisers, when the money will be pjiid back, deducting coach hire. Cheap goods rarely turn out Avell. Soiiie dinner-giving gentlemen have hired Diners- imt at an inferior price ; and what was lately the consequence at a Baronet's in Portland Place ? — A liirmingham article of this sort entered the drawing room with a hackney straw adhering to one stocking, and a pedicular ladder ascending the other. He drank twice of champagne ; called for beer ; had never heard that the Opera opened without Angri- sani ; wondered why Miss Paton and Braham did not sing together (forgetting that all Great Russell- street and a part of the Piazza yawned between them) ; spilled red wine on the table cloth, and tried to rectify the error by a smear of salt and Madeira ; left the fish-cruets as bare as the pitchers of the Belides ; and conunitted various other errors, which Messrs. Clack and Caterer scorn to enume- rate. All this proceeds from not going to the best shops, and paving accordingly. Messrs. Clack and Caterer beg likewise to acquaint a liberal and candid public, that they have an unex- 528 THE good-fellow's calemdak. ceptionable assortment of three-day visitors, who go by the stage to villas from Saturday to Monday. These out-qf-toxvners know all about Webb Hall and the drill plough : take a hand at whist ; never beat their host at billiards ; have no objection to go to cliurch ; and are ready to look at improvements on being provided with thick shoes. If up hill, or through a copse of the party's own planting, a small additional sum will be required. For further parti- culars, inquire at the warehouse in Leicester Square. If Messrs. Clack and Caterer give satisfaction, it is all they require ; money is no object. Letters, post-paid, will be duly attended to. Every " Seminary" and " Boarding School"'*' now turn out their prodigies of Pupils, to gratify the admiring gaze of parental fondness. It is but rarely that these " gardens of know- ledge"" occasion flights in the region of Poesy ; an Academy at Clapham has, in this instance, been honoured by being the subject of an Ode, which, as it is exceedingly ^i^'zmn^, is here introduced. ODE ON A DISTANT PROSPECT OK CLAPHAM ACADEMY.* Ah me ! those old familiar bounds ! That classic house, those classic grounds, • No connexion with any other Ode. 329 DECEMBER. My pensive thought recals ! What tender urchins now confine, Wliat Httle captives now repine, Within yon irksome walls ! Ay, tliat's the very house ! I know Its ugly windows, ten a-row ! Its chimneys in the rear ! And there's the iron rod so high, That drew the thmider from the sky And turn'd our table-beer ! There I was birch'd ! there X was bred ! There like a little Adam fed From Learning''s woful tree ! The wearv tasks I used to con ! — The hopeless leaves I wept upon ! — MostJ'ruitless leaves to me ! — The summoned class ! — the awful bow ! — I wonder who is master now. And wholesome anguish sheds ! How many ushers now employs. How many maids to see the boys Have nothing' in their heads ! And ^Irs. S * * * ?— Doth she abet (Like Pallas in the parlour) yet Some favoured two or three. — The little Crichtons of the hour, Her muffin-medals that devour, And swill her prize bohea ? Ay, there's the play-ground ! there's the lime. Beneath whose shade in summer's prime S30 THE GOOD-FELLO\v"'s CALENDAR. So wildly I have read ! — Who sits there oiozv^ and skims the cream Of young Romance, and weaves a dream Of Love and Cottage-bread ? Who struts the Randall of the walk ? Who models tiny heads in chalk ? Who scoops the light canoe ? What early genius buds apace ? Where's Poynter ? Harris ? Bowers ? Chase ? Hal Baylis ? blithe Carew ? Alack ! they're gone — a thousand ways ! And some are serving in " the Greys," And some have perish'd young ! — Jack Harris weds his second wife ; Hal Baylis drives the wane of life ; And blithe Carew — is hung ! Grave Bowers teaches ABC To savages at Ov/hyhee ; Poor Chase is with the worms ! — All, all are gone — the olden breed ! — New crops of mushroom boys succeed, " And push us from our Jurms /" Lo! where they scramble forth, and shout. And leap, and skip, and mob about, At play where we have play'd ! Some hop, some run, (some fall,) some twine Their crony arms ; some in the shine, And some are in the shade ! • Lo there what mix\l conditions run ! The orphan lad ; the widow's son ; DECEMBER. 3^1 And fortune's favourM care — The wealthy born, for whom she hath Mufadamized the future path — The nabob's pamperM heir. Some brightly starred — some evil born, — For honour some, and some for scorn,— For fair or foul renown ! Good, bad, indifferent, — none may lack ! Look, here's a White, and there's a Black ! And there's a Creole brown ! Some laugh and sing, some mope and weep, And wish their frugal sires would keep Their only sons at home ; — Some tease the future tense, and plan The full-grown doings of the man. And pant for years to come ! A f(X)lish wish ! There's one at hoop : And four at Jives / and five who stoop The marble taw to speed ! And one that curvets in and out, Reining his fellow Cob about, — Would I were in his sieed / Yet he would gladly halt and drop That boyish harness off, to swop With this world's heavy van — To toil, to tug. O litde fool ! Whilst thou canst be a horse at school. To wish to be a man ! Perchance thou deem'st it were a thini>; To wear a cro7cn, — to be a king ! 332 THK GOOD-FELLO\v''s CALENDAR. A nd sleep on regal down ! Alas ! diou know'st not kingly cares ; Far happier is that head that wears That hat toitJiout a crown ! And dost thou think that years acquire New added joys ? Dost think thy sire More happy than his son ? That manhood's mirth ! — Oli, go thy ways To Drury-lane when plays^ And see \\o\v forced our fun ! Thy taws are brave ! — thy tops are rare ! — Our to})s are spun with coils of care ! Our dumps are no delight ! — The Elgin marbles are but tame, And 'tis at best a sorry game ^oflu the muse's Icite I Our hearts are dough, our heels are lead, Our topmost joys fall dull and dead. Like balls with no rebound ! And often with a faded eye We louk behind, and send a sigh Towards that merry ground ! Then be contented. Thou hast got The most of heaven in thy young lot ; Tiiere's sky-blue in thy cup ! Thou'h find thy manhood all too fast — Soon come, soon gone ! and age at last A sorry brealang-up '■ DECEMBER. 3S5 Sadler's Wells, — Where the fun-inspiring Grijialdi first set London's tasteful sons and daughters on a Broad Grin, opens on this evening with a Pantoniine. This quarter of the habitable globe seems selected by the wandering sons of inirth for their displays, as a liard informs us : — There sits a man near Sadler's Wells, Whose limb-excited peal of bells Disuse will never moulder ; Each elbow, by a skilful twist. Rings one, one rings from either wrist, And one from either shoulder. Each foot, well-mounted, aids the din ; Each knee, with nodding bell, chimes in Its phil-harmonic clapper. One bell sends forth a louder note From that round ball wiiich tops the throat, By bruisers called the n upper. Thus, sightless, by the river side He tunes his lavs, like him who cried " Descend from heaven, Urania,'' But not as poor : his wiser stave Is, like the Laureat's, mere God save The King— not Rule Britannia. 334 THE good-fellow's calendar. Though but a single tune he knows, His gains are far exceeding those Of pass- supported Homer : He keeps the wolf outside the door, And, doing that, to call him poor Were, certes, a misnomer. The school-boy lags astride the rail. The milkman drops his clinking pail, The serving-maid her pitcher. The painter quits th' unwhiten'd fence To greet with tributary pence This general bewitcher. See ! where he nods his pealing brow, Now strikes a fifth, a second now. In regular confusion ; But, ere he finishes the strain, Da capo goes his pate again, The key-note of conclusion. Satire, suspend your baseless wit, The tuneful tribe may sometimes hit On patrons bent on giving. Here's one, at least, obscurely bred, Who by the labour of his head Picks up a decent living ! In the " Wolverhampton Chronicle" of Decembei* 1792, the following paragraph appeared : — DECEMBKK. 333 " One Briscoe, the manager of a small tlieatrical company, now in Staffordshire, though stonc-hliml^ plays all the heroes in his tragedies, and lovers in genteel comedies !" In the December of 1812, the South of Ireland was irradiated with the following " touch at the sublime." Mr. Hendeick's devoir to the gentry of Limerick Would be elated to assign his attention for the instruction of eight or ten Pupils, to attend on their houses each second day, to teach the French lan- guage. Geography on the Principles of Astronomy, traversing the Globe by sea and land on the rudi- ments of a right angle, with a variety of pleasing Problems, attached to Manners, Customs, &c. of different Countries, Trade and Commerce ; Pheno- menons on Volcanos, Thunder, Sound, Lightning, Sec. Such as please to continue, may advance through a Course of Natural Philosophy, and those proficient in French can be taught the above in that Lan