THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES GIFT OF David Freedman from tf*ratur* of all and Nattona J. M Go f fin Ene from nf all Nations ICibrarg nf tt attfc ifttmar attii teltli Utngrapl|iral anh ffirtttral Nntra bg A. S. g>|jofi&ir^ Hat? Hibrartan of (Congrwa, Blaafytngtatt, S. (E., anb of "dnlti for 3llluatraipo iutil? (Chnirt -Writings for tljta work (So. 1910 URL SRLF CONTENTS OF VOLUME II, COMPLETE BOOKS AND IMPORTANT PIECES. PAGE. RABELAIS, (Biography) 1 Personal Anecdotes 2 How Panurge praiseth Debtors and Borrowers 6 Why Mouks Love to be in the Kitchens 10 The Fool's Judgment 11 The Secret-Telling Box 12 The Lost Hatchet 12 How Pantagruel met with a Great Storm at Sea 15 Rabelais imitates Diogenese ... 20 Epistemon's Descent into Hell 22 The Wonderful Physicians at the Court of Queen Whim 25 Pantagruelian Prognostications 25 The Four Seasons of the Tear 28 THE COURTSHIP or UNCLE TOBY AND THE WIDOW W ADMAN . 33 THE STORT or MY LEGAL EXAMINATION AND MY AUNT"! POLICE CASE Francis Cowley Burnand ... 91 >"EAL MALONK William Carleton 107 SIR ROGER DE COVERLEY (from the Spectator) Joseph Additon 129 THE TRAVELS AND ADVENTURES OF BARON MUSCHAUSEN . R. E. Raspe 193 RIP VAX WINKLE ... Washington Irving 256 THE LEGEND OF SLEEPY HOLLOW Washington Irving 264 THE TURF (Jorrocks at Newmarket) Robert Smith Svrteet 289 JORBOCKS' HUNT Robert Smith SurUet 300 SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER Oliver Goldsmith 826 PAUL PUT John Poole 369 v 918740 H CONTENTS OF VOL. II. SHORTER PIECES. PAGB. Blind Man's Buff Horace Smith 30 The Chameleon James Aterriek ....... 31 The Last of the Irish Serpents Thos. C. Oroker 32 Monsieur Tonson John Taylor 72 The Vicar of Bray Anonymous . 78 Blucher and his Pipe-Bearer at the Battle of Waterloo . . Dr. Michelsen 79 The Jackdaw William Cou-per 7S Tim Price's Ram Tobe Rodge , . . 81 The First White Man Born in Pittsburg Tyrone Power's 8:? Dr. Johnson's Pudding Henry Angela 85 A Visit to the Asylum for Aged and Decayed Punsters . . Oliver Wendell Holmes .... 86 Tom Turner Anonymous 90 Sir Isaac Newton's Courtship Anonymous 90 The Griffin Anonymous 118 Old Hobson John Milton 121 How Professor Pepsine Lectured the Ghost Walter Thornbury 1 '22 King John and the Abbot . . From the Pern/ Reliques . . . 126 The First Dandy Josh Billings 178 Legal Anecdotes 179 The Lawyers and the Cat 179 Novel Reply to a Challenge 180 An American Rival to Curran 180 A "Hung" Jury 180 Anecdote of General Cass 182 How Long 182 Wade and Giddings 182 A Good Legislative Story 183 Guilty but Drunk Col. Bradbury 184 Related to the Judge 185 A Legal Wag 186 The Barrister and the Witness 186 Metempsychosis , 187 A Saucy Lawyer . 187 CONTENTS OF VOL. II. *a PAOB. Ridicule versus Eloquence 187 Chief Baron Pollock 188 Eldon's First Judgment 188 A Fertile Mind 188 Interesting Correspondence 189 Irrepressible 189 A Peculiar Veneration 189 LegalJokes 189 The Lover and the Lap Dog S. T. Coleridge 190 Bobby's Trousers Robert Chambers 192 The Little Hatchet Story Robert J. Burdette 253 Ben Block - ... TJiomas Dibden 280 Mr. McKenzie on the Tariff Commission ... . . . J. A. McKenzie 28*1 Inflexibility, or How some Women Manage Anonymous 284 Aphorisms Josh Billings 287 Nebuchadnezzar (The Mule) Irwin Russell 288 The Country Squire Dom Tamos Triarte 316 The Bear and the Monkey Dom Tomas Yriarte . . . . 317 The Dead Alive Pierre Jean de Beranger ... 317 The Kinj: of Yvetot Pierre Jean de Beranger . . . 318 The Happy Man , Gilles Menage 319 Schnapps Selber 319 Song for Punch Drinkers Schiller 820 Rhine Wine Matthias Claudius 320 Winter Matthias Claudius 321 The Hen Matthias Claudius 821 Might and Right Pfeffel 321 A Tragic Story Chamisso 322 The Drunkard's Conceit Hcrr v. MuUer 322 In Praise of Sleep Passeroni 322 Uncle Dan' 1 and the Steamboat Mark Twain and Dudley Warner 368. The Scriptural Panoramist Mark Twain 328 The Height of the Ridiculous Oliver Wendell Holmes .... 360 How many Fins has a Cod Judge T. C. Halibttrton .... 361 A Report from Below Thomas Hood. . . 399 nil CONTENTS OF VOL. II. THE RACONTEUR. (YARNS.) A Sharp Student 29 A Condensed Novel 32 An Ignoramus and his Library .... 71 A Couple of Bad Boys 74 A Brevet Horse 74 The Trovers 75 A Successful Trick 75 Don't talk till ye see Flynn 76 The Penny ye meant to Gi'e 76 Candor 76 How he stopped Chewing 77 A Brief Courtship 80 The Philosopher and the Ferryman. . . 80 An Irresistible Appeal 80 Logic (or the Horse Chestnut) .... 82 Joe Hatch 83 The Rival Broom Makers 86 The Jackass' Address 106 Sure Cure for Pride 107 Doing Her Part 120 Compliments 128 A Desirable Horse , 128 PACM. At the Piano 128 A Banker's Wit 178 Curious Marriage Ceremony 191 Flustered 192 Deacon Dodd 253 A Queer Poet 254 A Musical Duel 255 A Seasonable Philanthropist 255 A Rejected Manuscript 279 A Distinction 279 A Conscientious Epitaph 283 An Unfriendly Question 288 An Experienced Shopper 288 OCR AMERICAN CHARLES LAMB .... 325 A Parrot Story 325 The Rat Story 325 Travers and Clews 325 Travers on Fisk and Gould ... 325 An Awkward Compliment 356 Jimmy Butler and the Owl 357 Kicked by a Mule 368 He Didn't Know the Court . . 398 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. PORTRAITS. (Oliver Wendell Holmes, Sterne and Sidney Smith) Frontispiece. READING RABELAIS Page 17 SIR ISAAC NEWTON'S COURTSHIP "90 JOSEPH JEFFERSON AS RIP VAN WINKLE " 2o7 JOHN L. TOOLE AS TONY LUMPKIN IN "SHE STOOLS TO CONQUER." .... "337 THE LIBRARY OF WIT AND HUMOR. RABELAIS. [FBANCOIS RABELAIS was born in 1483 (or according io some biographers, in 1495), at Chinon, a small town in Touraine, France. His father, who combined the cultivation of a small farm, of which he was the owner, with the business of an apothecary, gave his son the best educational advantages. At an early age Francois was sent as a pupil to the abbey of Seully, and thence to the University of Augers. Here he made the ac- quaintance of Jean (afterwards Cardinal) Du Bellay, to whose friendship he was subsequently much indebted. At the request of his father, Rabelais entered the priest- hood, becoming first a brother of the Franciscan con- vent of Fontenay le Comte, in 1519. He now began to display that enthusiasm for study which made him per- haps the most erudite man of his age. His studies em- braced the whole range of the sciences, especially medicine, and a mastery of the Latin, Greek, Italian, Spanish, German English, Hebrew, and Arabic lan- guages. His learning, however, provoked the jealousy and hatred of the monks, who suspected that his Greek wag a cover for heresy. On one occasion, in 1523, his cell was searched for suspicious books, and to avoid severer persecution he fled. His wit and learn- ing having gained him influential friends, he obtained by their exertions a papal indulgence authorizing his transfer from the order ot St. Francis to that of St. Benedict, upon which he became an inmate of the monastery of Maillezay. Here his. condition appears to have been little improved ; for after a few years he abruptly quitted the monastery without ecclesiastical sanction. In 1530, he settled at Montpellier, and, tak- ing a degree in medicine at the University, was ap- pointed a lecturer therein. At Lyons, whither he went as hospital physician in 1532, he published several works on medical science, archaeology, jurisprudence, etc. In 1534, he accompanied Du Bellay to Rome, as travelling physician. He obtained from Pope Paul III. on the occasion, a remission of the penalties attached to his monastic misdemeanor, with permission to return to the order of St. Benedict. He continued, however, to practice medicine at Montpellier and elsewhere until 1538, when he became canon of Du Bellay's abbey of St. Maur de Fosses, near Paris. On Cardinal Du Bel- lay's loss of influence, Rabelais at first shared the ef- VOL. II. W. H. fects of his disgrace, but afterwards received from the Cardinal of Lorraine the curacy of Meudon, which he held until his death. He is said to have been exem- plary in life, profuse in charity, and sedulous in the relief of suffering. Some wrote that Rabelais died at Meudon; but Dom Pierre de St. Romuald says, that Dr. Guy Paton, Royal Professor at Paris, who was a great admirer of Rabelais, assured him that he, himself, caused him to be brought from his cure to Paris, where he lies buried in St. Paul's Church yard, at the foot of a great tree still to be seen. He died in a house in the Street called La Hue des Jardins, in St. Paul's Parish at Paris about the year 1553, aged seventy years. The following is his Epitaph written by his content* porary.Bai/: Pluton, prince du noir Empire, Ou les tiens ne rient jamais, Recois aujourd'huy Rabelais, Et les tiens auront, de quoy rire. The scientific works of Rabelais are for- gotten ; but bis romance of Gargantua and Pantagruel ranks as one of the world's mas- terpieces of humor and grotesque invention. " In the form of a sportive and extrava- gant fiction, it is, in fact, a satirical criti- cism of the corrupt society of the period, the prevalent follies and vices of which are parodied with surprising effect and ingenu- ity." " The work of Rabelais," says Leigh Hunt, " is a wild but profound burlesque of some of the worst abuses in government and religion ; and it has had a correspond- ing effect on the feeling, or unconscious reasonings of the world. This must be its excuse for a coarseness which was perhaps its greatest recommendation in the ' good old times,' though at present one is astonished how people could bear it. Rabelais' combi- nation of work and play, of merriment and studv, of excessive animal spirits and prodigious learning would be a perpetual marvel, if we did not reflect that nothing U RABELAIS. more likely to make a man happy, particu- larly a Frenchman, than his being able to indulge his genius, and cultivate the task he is fit for. Native vivacity and suitable occupation conspire to make his existence perfect." An able writer in the " Foreign Quarter- ly Review " speaks of Rabelais as " an au- thor without parallel in the history of liter- ature : an author who is the literary parent of many authors, since without him we should probably have never known a Swift, a Sterne, a Jean Paul, or, in fact, any of the irregular humorists : an author who did not appear as a steadily shining light to the hu- man race, but as a wild, startling meteor, predicting the independence of thought, and the downfall of the authority of ages : an au- thor who for the union of heavy learning with the most miraculous power of imagination, is perhaps without a competitor." Obviously, from what has been said, the writings of Rabelais can never become pop- ular. They embody so much learning, and their serious intention is so hidden from all save acute and erudite minds, that they give to the general reader an impression of riot- ous levity, flashing, indeed, with unmistak- able wit, but soiled too often with repulsive coarseness. They have been, and still are, however, a rich mine for philosophers and wits, and thus, literature and thought have been leavened with the humorous conceits and the practical wisdom of Rabelais. A few words of explanation concerning the characters that figure prominently in our selections may prove helpful to the reader : PANTAGRUEL (from panta all, and gruel thirst) represents, in a general sense, the spirit of inquiry, which is all-embracing and insatiate ; hence Pantagruel is represented as a giant with an astounding alimental capacity. He is said to have come into the world accompanied by eighty-one sellers of salt, each leading a mule by a halter; nine dromedaries laden with hams and smoked tongues ; seven camels laden with eels ; besides twenty-five wagons full of leeks, garlics, onions and shalots. PANURGE, who is the proUg and beloved companion of Pantagruel, is a handsome, lively, healthy fellow, with a superabun- dance of animal spirits, yet exceedingly shrewd, witty and cunning, and quite learn- ed withal, especially in respect of lan- guages. He is given to the perpetration of practical jokes, and boasts that "never mail did me a good turn but I returned it, or at least acknowledged it ; never did man do me an ill one without ruing the day that he did it, either in this world or the next." He is in some sort a type of worldly sagacity, of that faculty which extracts all possible comfort and indulgence from the present life, with a supreme regard for self. Pan- urge is the real hero of the books in which he figures. He displays great pusillanimity in danger, though a great braggart at other times. He says of himself, " As for fear, I have nane of it. My name is William Dreadnought. I fear nothing but danger." FRIAR JOHN is in effective contrast with Panurge, and a kind of friendly bickering is constantly kept up between them. Lusty, roaring, bullying speeches are given to the monk and sly waggeries, odd conceits, and astute sophistries are given to Panurge. If there is a shipwreck or a skirmish, Friar John is foremost in the bustle ; fear is un- known to him. He is a mass of profanity and valor; he butts his way through the world like a bull, while Panurge glides through it like a snake. Many volumes filled with most ingenious speculations and theories have been pro- duced in the endeavor to prove the histori- cal identity of Rabelais' heroes, and to in- terpret his puzzling fancies and allusions. It is almost needless to say that the critics differ irreconcilably in their attempted solu- tions. It would be quite foreign to the pre- sent purpose, as well as altogether beyond the limits of our space, to enter upon such a difficult quest. In the subjoined extracts we have sought to exhibit the characteristic traits of our author, without offending the proper sensibilities of the reader. The per- sonal anecdotes by which the selections are prefaced, will, we doubt not, be appreciated as well for their intrinsic interest as for the light they shed on the character of the man.] PERSONAL ANECDOTES. RABELAIS BEQUESTS EXCOMMUNICATION. Cardinal Du Bellay having on one oc- casion brought Rabelais and the rest of his retinue to Pope Paul III., that they might beg some favor of his Holiness, Rabelais, being bid to make his demand, only begged that his Holiness would be pleased to excommunicate him. So strange a request having caused much surprise, he was ordered to say RABELAIS. why he made it. Then addressing him- self to that Pope, who was doubtless a great man, and had nothing of the morose- ness of many others : " May it please your Holiness," said he, " I am a Frenchman of a little town called Chinon, whose in- habitants are thought somewhat too sub- ject to be thrown into a sort of unpleasant bonfires; and indeed, a good number of honest men, and amongst the rest, some of my relations, have been fairly burned there already : now would your Holiness but excommunicate me, I would be sure never to burn. My reason is, that pass- ing through the Tarentese, where the cold was very great in the way to this city with my Lord Cardinal Du Bellay, having reached a little hut, where an old woman lived, we prayed her to make a fire to warm us, but she burned all the straw of her bed to kindle a faggot, yet could not make it burn ; so that at last, after many imprecations, she cried, without doubt this faggot was excommunicated by the Pope's own mouth, since it will not burn : in short, we were obliged to go on with- out warming ourselves. Now if it pleased your Holiness, but to excommunicate me thus, I might go safely to my country." By this, he not only, in a jesting manner, exposed the Roman clergy's persecuting temper, but seemed to allude to the ineffi- cacy of the former Pope's excommunica- tions in England, and chiefly in Ger- many ; where they only served to warn Henry VIII., and on the other side, the Lutherans, to secure themselves against the attempts of their enemies. He, that would not spare the Pope to his face, was doubtless not less liberal of his biting jokes to others: insomuch, that he was obliged to leave Borne without much preparation ; not thinking himself safe among the Italians, who, of all men, love and forgive raillery the least, when they are the subjects of it. HOW HE OBTAINED FREE TRANSPOR- TATION. Being come as far as Lyons in his way to Paris, very indifferently accoutred, and no money to proceed, whether he had been robbed or had spent all his sfeoc^jj he, who had a peculiar love for ease, aai : good eating, and no less zeal for good drinking, found himself in dismal circum- etances. So he had recourse to a strata- gem which might have been of dangerous consequence to one less known than Rab- elais. Being lodged at the Tower and Angel, a famous inn in that city, he took some of the ashes in the chimney, and having wrapped them up in several little papers, on one of them he writ Poison to kill the King, on another, Poison to kill the Queen, on a third, Poison to kill the Duke of Or- leans, and having on the Change met a young merchant, told him, that being skilled in physiognomy he plainly saw that he had a great desire to get an estate easily ; therefore, if he would come to his inn, he would put him in a way to gain a hundred thousand crowns. The greedy merchant was very ready, so when he had treated our doctor, he came to the main point, that is, how to get the hun- dred thousand crowns. Then Rabelais, after t' other bottle or two, pretending a great deal of caution, at last showed him the papers of powder, and proposed to him to make use of them according to their superscriptions, which the other promised, and they appointed to meet the next day, to take measures about it ; but the too credulous, though honest trader, immediately ran to a judge, who, having heard the information, presently sent to secure Rabelais, the Dauphin hav- ing been poisoned some time before; so the doctor with his powder was seized, and being examined by the judge, gave no answer to the accusation, save that he told the young merchant, that he had never thought him fit to keep a secret, and only desired them to secure what was in the papers, and send him to the King, for he had strange things to say to him. Accordingly, he is carefully sent to Paris, and handsomely treated by the way on free cost, as are all the King's prison- ers, and being come to Paris, was imme- diately brought before the King, who, knowing him, asked him what he had done to be brought in that condition, and where he had left the Cardinal Du Bellay. Upon this the Judge made his report, showed the bills with the powder, and the informations which he had drawn. Ra- belais on his side told his case, took some of all the powders before the King; which, being found to be only harmless wood ashes, pleaded for Rabelais so effect- ually, that the business ended in mirth, and the poor Judge was only laughed at for his pains. RABELAIS. SERVING HIS UNIVERSITY BY A JEST. Neither were his jests sometimes less productive of good, than the deep earnest of others, of which the University of Montpellier furnishes us with an instance ; none being admitted to the degree of Doctor of Physic there, who has not first put on the gown and cap of Dr. Eabelais, which are preserved in the Castle of Mo- rac in that city. The cause of this uncom- mon veneration for the memory of that learned man, is said to be this : Some scholars having occasioned an ex- traordinary disorder in that city, Anthony Du Prat, Cardinal Archbishop of Sens, then Lord Chancellor of France, upon complaint made of it, caused the Univer- sity to be deprived of part of its privileges. Upon this, none was thought fitter to be sent to Paris to solicit their restitution than our doctor, who, by his wit, learning and eloquence, as also by the friends which they had purchased him at Court, seemed capable to obtain any thing. When he came to Paris about it, the difficulty lay in gaining audience of the Chancellor, who was so incensed, that he refused to hear anything in behalf of the University of Montpellier. So Rabelais, having vainly tried to be admitted, at last put on his red gown and doctor's cap (some say, a green gown and a long grey beard) and thus accoutred, came to the Chancellor's Palace, on St. Austin's Quay ; but the porter and some other servants mistook him for a mad man : so Rabelais having, in a per- emptory tone, been asked there who he was, let his impertinent querist know, that he was the gentleman who usually had the honor to flay bull-calves ; and that, if he had a mind to be first flayed, he had best make haste and strip immediately. Then being asked some other questions, he answered in Latin, which the other understanding not, one of the Chancellor's officers that could speak that tongue was brought, who, addressing himself to our doctor in Latin, was answered by him in Greek, which the other understanding as little as the first did Latin, a third was fetched who could speak Greek ; but he no sooner spoke in that language to Rab- elais, but was answered by him in He- brew ; and one, who understood Hebrew, being with much difficulty procured Rabe- lais spoke to him in Syriac : thus having exhausted all the learning of the family, the Chancellor, who was told, that there was a merry fool at his gate who had out- done every one, not only in languages, but in smartness of repartees, ordered him to be brought in. 'T was a little before din- ner. Then Rabelais, shifting the farcical scene into one more serious, addressed himself to the Chancellor with much re- spect, and having first made his excuse for his forced buffoonery, in a most eloquent and learned speech, so effectually pleaded the cause of his university, that the Chan- cellor, at once ravished and persuaded, not only promised the restitution of the abolished privileges, but made the doctor sit down at table with him as a particular mark of his esteem. PROCURING A DOCTOR'S DEGREE FOR HIS HORSE. Much about that time, hearing with what facility, for the sake of a small sum of money, the Faculty of Orange (some say Orleans) admitted ignorant preten- ders, as Doctors of Physic, not only with- out examining, but even without seeing them, Rabelais sent the usual fees, and had one received Doctor there unseen, by the name of Doctor Johannes Caballus, and let the wise professors and the world know afterwards, what a worthy member they had admitted into their body, since that very Doctor was his horse Jack ; or, as some say, his mule : for if there are various lections, there may well be also various traditions of the same passage. THE MULE AND THE HOLY WATER. Rabelais being at Paris, and more care- ful of himself than of his mule, had trusted it to the care of the printer's men, desiring them at least not to let it want water. But he having perhaps forgot to make them drink, they also easily, though uncharitably, forgot the poor brute. At three days' end the creature having drank as little water as its master, a young un- lucky boy took a fancy to get on its back, even like the Miller's Daughter, without a saddle ; another truant scholar begged to get behind him, so did a third and eke a fourth. Thus these four being mounted like Aymond's four sons a horseback on a mule, without bridle or halter, the real and living emblem of Folly, the grave animal walked leisurely down St. James'i RABELAIS. etreet, till it came near a church, towards which it moved, drawn by the magnetic virtue of the water, which it smelt at a considerable distance, in the Holy Water- Pot, which is always near the porch. And in vain our four riders kicked and called ; in spite of them the headstrong thirsty beast made up to the Holy element ; and though the church was almost full of peo- ple, it being Sunday and sermon-time, notwithstanding all opposition, the bold monster dipped its saucy snout in the sanctified cistern. The people, that were near it, were not a little amazed at the impudence of that sacrilegious animal, deservedly cursed with sterility, though it were but for this one crime ; many took him for a spectrum that bore some souls formerly heretical, but now penitent, that came to seek the sweet refrigeratory of the saints, out of the more than hellish flames of purgatory. So the unconcerned mule took a swinging draught of holy liquor, yet did not like it so well, there being always salt in it. as to take a second dose ; but, having somewhat allayed its raging thirst, modestly withdrew, with her two brace of youngsters. However, the thing did not end thus; for the brute was seized, and Rabelais, being thought none of the greatest admirers of the Rom- ish fopperies, was shrewdly suspected of having laid the design of that scandalous adventure. Nor was the rude four-legged Johannes Caballus released out of the pound, till its master had dearly paid for its drink. ADORING THE STATUE OF CHABLES VIII. 'T is also said, that as he was kneeling once at church, before the statue of King Charles VIII., a monk came and said to him, that doubtless he mistook that King's statue for that of some saint ; but Rabelais immediately replied, " I am not so much a monk (blockhead I mean) as thou thinkest me ; nor yet so blyid, as not to know, that I kneel b'efore the represen- tation of King Charles VIII. for whose soul I was praying, because he brought the syphilis out of Naples into this king- dom, by which means, I, and other physi- cians, have been considerable gainers. A JOKE THAT CURED A CARDINAL. Several physicians being once assem- bled to consult about an hypochondriac ; humour, which confined Cardinal Du ! Bellay to his bed ; they at last re- j solved, that an aperitive (opening) decoc- | tion should be prepared, to be frequently taken with some syrup, by the patient. Now Rabelais, who was his physician, perhaps not being of their opinion, while : the rest of our learned doctors were still I discoursing in their scientific jargon, to deserve the large fee, caused a fire to be i made in the yard, and on it to be set a i kettle full of water, into which he had j put as many keys as he could get ; and i while he was very busy in stirring them j about with a stick, the doctors coming | down, saw him, and asked what he was i doing? " Following your directions," re- : plied he. " How, in the name of Galen ? " I cried one of them. " You are for some- thing that may be very aperitive," re- turned Rabelais, "and by Hippocrates, I : think you will own that nothing can be more aperitive than keys, unless you | would have me send to the arsenal for ! some pieces of cannon." This odd fancy, ! being immediately related to the sick car- dinal, set him into such a fit of laughing, j that it helped more to cure him than the I prescription; and what made the jest the J more pertinent was, that keys are made of ' iron and steel, which with water are the chief ingredients in chalybeate medicines. EXCHANGING COMPLIMENTS WITH CALVIN. Hearing that the grave John Calvin, somewhat prejudiced against him for his biting jokes, had played on his name by the way of anagram ; saying Itabelcesiiu, Rabie l&sus, angfice mad man ; he, with an admirable presence of mind, immedi- ately returned the compliment in the same kind, saying : Calvin Jan cul, anglice jack arse, adding, that there was anagram for anagram, and that a studied trifle only deserved to be paid back with one worse, extempore. "RABELAIS' QUARTER OF AN HOUB." Thus, while like Democritus, he made himself merry with the impertinencies of mankind, nothing was able to allay his mirth, unless it were the thought of a reck- oning, at the time that he paid it ; then indeed, he was thought somewhatserious, though probably 't was partly that those who were to receive it, might not impose RABELAIS. on him and the company, and hecause he generally found his purse not over full. However, the time of paying the shot in a tavern among good fellows, or panta- gruelists, is still called in France, le quart s' , , . After going to school at Halifax, England, he was sent to Jesus College, Cambridge, in 1733, where he took the degree of A.B. in 1736. On leaving the University, he took church orders, and by the interest of his uncle obtained the living of Sutton, Yorkshire, and in 1740-41 was a pre- bend in York Cathedral. He married in 1741 and re- ceived from a friend of his wife the living of Stil- lington, near Sutton. He retained his connection with these two places for nearly twenty years, preaching on Sundays, and amusing himself during the week by reading, "painting, fiddling, and shooting." Im- mediately after the publication of Tristram Shandy (in 1759) he became famous, and afterwards he paid still less attention to clerical duties, his time being mostly epent in London or on the continent. His earliest pub- lications were several sermons, which at the time at- tracted little attention ; but his sermons have since had admirers. The poet Gray says of them : " They are in the style I think most proper for the pulpit, and show a strong imagination and a sensible heart ; but you see him often tottering on the verge of laughter, and ready to throw his periwig in the face of his audience." A Sentimental Journey was published iu the year of the author's death, 1768. Sterne led an unworthy, inconsis- tent, and indiscreet if not immoral life, and died unla- mented and well-nigh neglected. While a few prefer his Sentimental Journey, his fame beyond question rests chiefly upon Tristram Shandy. Speaking of the latter work Hazlitt says: "The story of Le Fevre is perhaps the finest in the English language." The same writer says: "My Uncle Toby is one of the finest compli- ments ever paid to human nature. He is the most un- offending of God's creatures." Leigh Hunt thus apos- trophizes this genial creation of Sterne's : " But what shall I say to thee, thou quintessence of the milk of human kindness, thou reconciler of war (as far as it was necessary to reconcile it), thou returner to child- hood during peace, thou lover of widows, thou master of the best of corporals, thou whistler at excommuni- cations, thou high and only final Christian gentleman, thou pitier of the devil himself, divine Uncle Toby ! Why, this I will say, made bold by thy example, and caring nothing for what anybody may think of it who does not in some measure partake of thy nature, that he who created thee was the wisest man since the days of Shakspeare; and that Shakspeare himself, mighty reflector of things as they were, but no anticipator, never arrived at a character like thine." To this extreme *nlogy Mr. Hunt adds : " If I were requested to name tle book of all others, which combined wit and hu- VOL. II -- w. H. mor under their highest appearance of levity with the ^rofoundest wisdom, it would be Trittram Shandy." Our ielection is a portion of "Tristram Shandy" complete in itself, comprising the last two books, viz., the Eighth and the Ninth.] CHAPTER I. Bur softly, for in these sportive plains and under this genial sun, where at this instant all flesh is running out piping, fid- dling, and dancing to the vintage, and every step that's taken, the judgment is surprised by the imagination, I defy, not- withstanding all that has been said upon straight lines, in sundry pages of my book, I defy the best cabbage planter that ever existed, whether he plants backwards or forwards, it makes little difference in the account (except that he will have more to answer for in the one case than in the other), I defy him to goon coolly, critical- ly, and canonically, planting his cabbages one by one, in straight lines, and stoical distances, without ever and anon strad- dling out, or sliding into some bastardly digression. In Freezeland, Fog-land, and some other lands I wot of, it may be done ! But in this clear climate of fantasy and perspiration, where every idea, sensible and insensible, gets vent, in this land, my dear Eugenius, in this fertile land of chiv- alry and romance, where I now sit, un- screwing my inkhorn to write my uncle Toby's amours, and with all the meanders of Julia's track in quest of her Diego, in full view of my study-window, if thou comest not and takest me by the hand, What a work it is likely to turn out I Let us begin it. CHAPTER II. IT is with Love as with Cuckoldom : but now I am talking of beginning a book, and have long had a thing upon my mind to be imparted to the reader, which, if not imparted now, can never be imparted to him as long as I live (whereas the compari- son may be imparted to him any hour in the day), I'll just mention it, and begin in good earnest. The thing is this : That of all the several ways of begin- ning a book which are now in practice throughout the known world, I am con- fident my own way of doing it is the best THE COURTSHIP OF UNCLE TOBY AND THE WIDOW WADMAN. I'm sure it is the most religious, for I be- gin with writing the first sentence, and trusting to Almighty God for the second. 'T would cure an author forever of the fuss and folly of opening the street door, and calling in his neighbors, and friends, and kinsfolk, with the Devil and all his imps, with their hammers, and en- gines, &c., only to observe how one sen- tence of mine follows another, and how the plan follows the whole. I wish you saw me half starting out of my chair, with what confidence, as I grasp the elbow of it, I look up, catching the idea even sometimes before it half-way reaches me! I believe, in my conscience, I intercept many a thought which Heaven intended for another man. Pope and his portrait are fools to me ; no martyr is ever so full of faith or fire. I wish I could say of good works too ; but I have no Zeal or Anger or Anger or Zeal ; and, till gods and men agree together to call it by the same name, the arrantest Tar- tufe in science, in politics, or in religion, shall never kindle a spark within me, or have a worse word, or a more unkind greeting, than what he will read in the next chapter. CHAPTER III. Bon jour ! good morrow ! so you have got your cloak on betimes, but 't is a cold morning, and you judge the matter rightly; 'tis better to be well mounted than go o'foot; and obstructions in the glands are dangerous. And how goes it with thy wife and little ones? and when did you hear from the old gentleman and lady, your sister, aunt, uncle and cousins ? I hope they have got the better of their colds, coughs, tooth-aches, fevers, strangu- aries, sciaticas, swellings, and sore eyes. What a devil of an apothecary ! to take so much blood, give such a vile purge, puke, poultice, plaster, night draught, clyster, blister! And why so many grains of calomel ? Santa Maria ! and such a dose of opium ! periclitating, pardi ! the whole family of ye, from head to tail ! By my great-aunt Dinah's old black velvet mask ! I think there was no occasion for it. Now this being a little bald about the chin, by frequently putting off and on, not one of our family would wear it after. To cover the mask afresh, was more than the mask was worth ; and to wear a mask which was bald, or which could be half seen through, was as bad as having no mask at all. This is the reason, may it please your Reverences, that in all our numerous family, for these four generations, we count no more than one Archbishop, a Welsh Judge, some three or four Alder- men, and a single Mountebank. In the sixteenth century, we boast of no less than a dozen alchemists. CHAPTER IV. " IT is with Love as with Cuckoldom ;" the suffering party is at least the third, but, generally, the last in the house who knows any thing about the matter : this comes, as all the world knows, from having half a dozen words for one thing ; and so long as what in this vessel of the human frame is Love, may be Hatred in that, Sentiment ha,\ f a yard higher, and Nonsense No, Madam, not there ; I mean at the part I am now pointing to with my fore- finger how can we help ourselves ? Of all mortal, and immortal men too, if you please, who ever soliloquized upon this mystic subject, my uncle Toby was the worst fitted to have pushed his re- searches through such a contention of feelings ; and he had infallibly let them all run on, as we do worse matters, to see what they would turn out, had not Brid- get's prenotification of them to Susannah, and Susannah's repeated manifestoes thereupon to all the world, made it neces- sary for my uncle Toby to look into the affair. CHAPTER V. WHY weavers, gardeners, and gladi- ators, or a man with a pined leg (pro- ceeding from some ailment in the foot) should ever have had some tender nymph breaking her heart in secret for them, are points well and duly settled and accounted for, by ancient and modern physiologists. A water-drinker, provided he is a pro- THE COURTSHIP OF UNCLE TOBY AND THE WIDOW W ADMAN. f eased one, and does it without fraud or covin, is precisely in the same predica- ment : not that, at first sight, there is any consequence, or show of logic in it, " That a rill of cold water dribbling through my inward parts, should light up a torch in my Jenny's heart " The proposition does not strike one ; on the contrary, it seems to run opposite to the natural workings of causes and effects. But it shows the weakness and imbecility of human reason. " And in perfect good health with it !" The most perfect, Madam, that Friend- ship herself could wish me. "And drink nothing! nothing but water?" Impetuous fluid ! the moment thou pressest against the flood-gates of the brain, see how they give way ! In swims Curiosity, beckoning to her damsels to follow; they dive into the centre of the current. Fancy sits musing upon the bank, and, with her eyes following the stream, turns straw and bulrushes into masts and bow- sprits. And Desire, with vest held up to the knee in one hand, snatches at them, as they swim by her, with the other. ye water-drinkers ! is it then by this delusive fountain, that ye have so often governed and turn'd this world about like a mill-wheel, grinding the faces of the impotent, bepowdering their ribs, be- peppering their noses, and changing some- times even the very frame and face of nature ! If I was you, quoth Yorick, I would drink more water, Eugenius. And, if I was vou, Yorick, replied Eugenius, so would I. Which shows they had both read Lon- ginus. For my own part, I am resolved never to read any book but my own as long as I live. CHAPTER VI. I WISH my uncle Toby had been a water-drinker, for then the thing had been accounted for, That the first moment Widow Wadman saw him, she felt some- thing stirring within her in his favor; something ! something. Something, perhaps, more than friend- ship, less than love : something, no matter what, no matter where ; I would not give a single hair of my mule's tail, and be obliged to pluck it off myself (indeed, the villain has not many to spare, and is not a little vicious into the bargain) to be let by your Worships into the secret. But the truth is, my uncle Toby waa not a water-drinker ; he drank it neither pure nor mixed, nor anyhow, nor any- where, except fortuitously upon some advanced posts, where better liquor was not to be had, or during the time he was under cure ; when, the surgeon telling him it would extend the fibres, and bring them sooner into contact, my uncle Toby drank it for quietness' sake. Now, as all the world knows that no effect in nature can be produced without a cause, and as it is as well known that my uncle Toby was neither a weaver, a gardener, nor a gladiator, unless as a cap- tain, you will needs have him one, but then he was only a captain of foot, and, besides, the whole is an equivocation. There is nothing left for us to suppose, but that my uncle Toby's leg but that will avail us little in the present hypo- thesis, unless it had proceeded from some ailment in the foot, whereas his leg was not emaciated from any disorder in his foot, for my uncle Toby's leg was not emaciated at all. It was a little stiff and awkward, from a total disuse of it for the three years he lay confined at my father's house in town; but it was plump and muscular, and, in all other respects, as good and promising a leg as the other. I declare, I do not recollect any one opinion or passage of my life, where my understanding was more at a loss to make ends meet, and torture the chapter I had been writing, to the service of the chapter following it, than in the present case : one would think I took a pleasure in running into difficulties of this kind, merely to make fresh experiments of getting out of 'em. Inconsiderate soul that thou art! What ! are not the unavoidable distresses with which, as an author and a man, thou art hemmed in on every side of thee ; are they, Tristram, not sufficient, but thou must entangle thyself still more ? CHAPTER VII. BUT, for Heaven's sake, let us take th THE COURTSHIP OF UNCLE TOBY AND THE WIDOW WADMAN. tory straight before us ; it is so nice and intricate a one, it will scarce bear the transposition of a single tittle ; and some- how or other, you have got me thrust al- most into the middle of it. I beg we may take more care. CHAPTER VIII. MY uncle Toby and the corporal had posted down with so much heat and precipitation, to take possession of the spot of ground we have so often spoken of, in order to open their campaign as early as the rest of the allies ; that they had forgot one of the most necessary articles of the whole affair ; it was neither a pioneer's spade, a pick-axe, or a shovel. It was a bed to lie on : so that as Shan- dy-hall was at that time unfurnished, and the little inn where poor Le Fevre died, not yet built, my uncle Toby was con- strained to accept of a bed of Mrs. Wad- man's, for a night or two, till corporal Trim (who, to the character of an excel- lent valet, groom, cook, sempster, surgeon, and engineer, superadded that of an ex- cellent upholsterer too), with the help of a carpenter and a couple of tailors, construc- ted one in my uncle Toby's house. A daughter of Eve, for such was Widow Wadman, and it's all the character I in- tended to give her, " That she was a perfect woman," had better be fifty leagues off, or in her warm bed, or playing with a case-knife, or any- thing you please, than make a man the object of her attention, when the house and all the furniture is her own. There is nothing in it out of doors and in broad daylight, where a woman has a power, physically speaking, of viewing a man in more lights than one ; but here, for her soul, she can see him in no light without mixing something of her own goods and chattels along with him, till, by reiterated acts of such combinations, he gets foisted into her inventory, And then, good night. But this is not matter of System ; for I have delivered that above; nor is it a matter of Breviary ; for I make no man's creed but my own : nor matter of Fact, at least that I know of: but 'tis matter in- troductorv to what follows. CHAPTER IX. I DO not speak it with regard to the coarseness or cleanness of them, or the strength of their gussets ; but pray, Do not night-shifts differ from day-shifts as much in this particular, as in anything else in the world, That they so far exceed the others in length, that, when you are laid down in them, they fall almost as much below the feet as the day-shifts fall short of them ? Widow Wadman 's night-shifts (as was the mode, I suppose, in King William's and Queen Anne's reigns) were cut, how- ever, after this fashion ; and, if the fashion is changed (for in Italy they are come to nothing) so much the worse for the public ; they were two Flemish ells and a half in length : so that, allowing a moderate wo- man two ells, she had half an ell to spare. Now, from one little indulgence gained after another, in the many bleak and De- cemberly nights of a seven years' widow- hood, things had insensibly come to this pass, and, for the two last years, had got established into one of the ordinances of the bedchamber, That as soon as Mrs. Wadman was put to bed, and had got her legs stretched down to the bottom of it, of which she always gave Bridget notice, Bridget, with all suitable decorum, hav- ing first opened the bed-clothes at the feet, took hold of the half-ell of cloth we were speaking of, and having gently, and with both her hands, drawn it downwards to its furthest extension, and then contract- ed it again sidelong by four or five even plaits, she took a large corking-pin out of her sleeve, and, with the point directed towards her, pinn'd the plaits all fast to- gether, a little above the hem ; which done, she tuck'd all in tight at the feet, and wished her mistress good-night. This was constant, and without any other variation than this : that on shiver- ing and tempestuous nights, when Bridget untuck'd the feet of the bed, &c., to do this, she consulted no thermometer but that of her own passions: and so per- formed it standing, kneeling, or squatting, according to the different degrees of faith, hope, and charity, she was in, and bore towards her mistress that night. In every other respect, the etiquette was sacred, and might have vied with the most mechani- cal one of the most inflexible bed-chamber in Christendom. THE COURTSHIP OF UNCLE TOBY AND THE WIDOW WADMAN. 37 The first night, as soon as the corporal had conducted my uncle Toby up stairs, which was about ten, Mrs. Wadman threw herself into her arm-chair, and crossing her left knee with her right, which formed a resting-place for her elbow, she reclin'd her cheek upon the palm of her hand, and, leaning forwards, ruminated till midnight upon both sides of the question. The second night she went to her bu- reau, and, having ordered Bridget to bring her up a couple of fresh candles and leave them upon the table, she took out her marriage-settlement, and read it over with great devotion : and the third night (which was the last of my uncle Toby's stay) when Bridget had pulled down the night-shift, and was essaying to stick in the corking-pin, With a kick of both heels at once, but at the same time the most natural kick that could be kick'd in her situation * * * * * * she kick'd the pin out of her fingers, the etiquette which hung upon it, down, down it fell to the ground, and was shivered into a thousand atoms. From all which, it was plain that Widow Wadman was in love with my uncle Toby. CHAPTER X. MY uncle Toby's head at that time was full of other matters, so that it was not till the demolition of Dunkirk, when all the other civilities of Europe were settled, that he found leisure to return this. This made an armistice (that is, speak- ing with regard to my uncle Toby ; but, with respect to Mrs. Wadman, a vacancy) of almost eleven years. But in all cases of this nature, as it is the second blow, happen at what distance of time it will, which makes the fray, I choose, for that reason, to call these the amours of my uncle Toby with Mrs. Wadman, rather than the amours of Mrs. Wadman with my uncle Toby. This is not a distinction without a difference. It is not like the affair of an old hat cock'd, and a cock'd old hat, about which your Reverences have so often been at odds with one another ; but there is a difference here in the nature of things : And, let me tell you gentry, a wide one too. CHAPTER XL Now, as Widow Wadman did love my uncle Toby, and my uncle Toby did not love Widow Wadman, there was nothing for Widow Wadman to do, but to go on and love my uncle Toby, or let it alone. Widow AVadman would do neither the one nor the other. Gracious Heaven ! but I forget I am a little of her temper myself: for whenever it so falls out, which it sometimes does, about the equinoxes, that an earthly god- dess is so much this, and that, and t'other, that I cannot eat my breakfast for her, and that she careth not three half-pence whether I eat my breakfast or not, Curse on her ! and so I send her to Tartary, and from Tartary to Terra del Fucgo, and so on to the Devil. In short, there is not an infernal nicbe where I do not take her divinityship and stick it. But as the heart is tender, and the pas- sions in these tides ebb and flow ten times in a minute, I instantly bring her back again ; and, as I do all things in extremes, I place her in the very centre of the milky way, Brightest of Stars ! thou wilt shed thy influence upon some one. The deuce take her and her influence too : for at that word, I lose all patience ; much good may it do him ! By all that is hirsute! I cry, taking my furred cap, and twisting it round my finger, I would not give sixpence for a dozen such I CHAPTER XII. " NOT touch it for the world," did I say ? Lord, how I have heated my imagination with this metaphor. CHAPTER XIII. WHICH shows, let your Reverences and Worships say what you will of it (for, as for thinking, all who do think, think pretty much alike both upon it and other matters), Love is certainly, at least alpha- i betically speaking, one of the most 88 THE COURTSHIP OF UNCLE TOBY AND THE WIDOW WADMAN. A gitating, B switching, C onfouuded, D evilish affairs of life ; the most E xtravagant, F utilitous, G aligaskinish, H andy-dandyish, I racundulous (there is no K to it) and L yrical of all human passions : at the same time, the most M isgiving, N innyhammering, O bstipating, P ragmatical, S tridulous, R idiculous, though, by the by, the B should have gone first : but, in short, 'tis of auch a nature, as my father once told my uncle Toby, upon the close of a long disserfcfition upon the subject, " You can scarce," said he, " combine two ideas together upon it, brother Toby, without an hypallage." What's that? cried my uncle Toby. The cart before the horse, replied my father. And what is he to do there ? cried my uncle Toby. Nothing, quoth my father, but to get in, or let it alone. Now Widow Wadman, as I told you be- fore, would do neither the one nor the other. She stood, however, ready harnessed and caparisoned at all points, to watch accidents. CHAPTEB XIV. THE Fates, who certainly all foreknew of these amours of Widow Wadman and my uncle Toby, had, from the first creation of matter and motion (and with more courtesy than they usually do things, of this kind), established such a chain of causes and effects hanging so fast to one another, that it was scarce possible for my uncle Toby to have dwelt in any other house in the world, or to have occupied any other garden in Christendom but the very house and garden which join'd and lay parallel to Mrs. Wadman's : this, with the advantage of a thicket arbor in Mrs. Wadman's garden, but planted in the hedge-row of my uncle Toby's, put all the occasions into her hands which love-mili- iancy wanted : she could observe my uncle Toby's motions, and was mistress likewise of his councils of war ; and as his unsus- pecting heart had given leave to the cor- poral, through the mediation of Bridget, to make her a wicker-gate of communica- tion to enlarge her walks, it enabled her to carry on her approaches to the very door of the sentry-box; and sometimes, out of gratitude, to make an attack, and endeavor to blow my uncle Toby up in the very sentry-box itself. CHAPTER XV. IT is a great pity ; but 'tis certain, from every day's observation of man, that he may be set on fire, like a candle, at either end, provided there is a sufficient wick ; if there is not, there's an end of the affair ; and if there is, by lighting it at the bot- tom, as the flame in that case has the mis- fortune generally to put out itself, there's an end of the affair again. For my part, could I always have the ordering of it which -way I would be burnt myself, for I cannot bear the thoughts of being burnt like a beast, I would oblige a housewife constantly to light me at the top ; for then I should burn down decently to the socket ; that is from my head to my heart, from my heart to my liver, from my liver to my bowels, and so on by the mesenteric veins and arteries, through all the turns and lateral insertions of the in- testines and their tunicles. CHAPTER XVI. AND so, to make sure of both systems, Mrs. Wadman predetermined to light my uncle Toby neither at this end nor that ; but, like a prodigal's candle, to light him, if possible, at both ends at once. Now, through all the lumber-rooms of military furniture, including both of horse and foot, from the great arsenal of Venice to the Tower of London (exclusive) if Mrs. Wadman had been rummaging for seven years together, and with Bridget to help her, she could not have found any one blind or mantelet so fit for her purpose as that which the expediency of my unofe Toby's affairs had fix'd up ready to her hands. THE COURTSHIP OF UNCLE TOBY AND THE WIDOW WADMAN. I believe I have told you but I don't know, possibly I have ; be it as it will, 'tis one of the number of those many things which a man had better do over again than dispute about it That whatever town or fortress the corporal was at work upon, during the course of their campaign, my uncle Toby always took care, on the inside of his sentry-box, which was towards his left hand, to have a plan of the place, fastened up with two or three pins at the top, but loose at the bottom, for the con- venieucy of holding it up to the eye, &c. ... as occasions required ; so that when an attack was resolved upon, Mrs. Wadman had nothing more to do, when she had got advanced to the door of the sentry-box, but to extend her right hand ; and edging in her left foot at the same movement, to take hold of the map or plan, or upright, or whatever it was, and with out-stretched neck meeting it half-way, to advance it towards her ; on which my uncle Toby's passions were sure to catch fire, for he would instantly take hold of the map in his left hand, and with the end of his pipe in the other, begin an explanation. When the attack was advanced to this point, the world will naturally enter into the reasons of Mrs. Wadman's next stroke of generalship; which was, to take my uncle Toby's tobacco-pipe out of his hand us soon as she possibly could: which, under one pretence or other, but generally that of pointing more distinctly at some redoubt or breastwork in the map, she would effect before my uncle Toby (poor soul ! ) had well march'd above half a dozen toises with it. It obliged my uncle Toby to make use of his fore finger. The difference it made in the attack was this : That in going upon it, as in the first case, with the end of her fore-finger against the end of my uncle Toby's to- bacco-pipe, she might have traveled with it along the line, from Dan to Beersheba, had my uncle Toby's lines reached so far, without any effect: for as there was no arterial or vital heat in the end of the to- bacco-pipe, it could excite no sentiment ; it could neither give fire by pulsation, nor receive it by sympathy ; 't was nothing but smoke. Whereas, in following my uncle Toby's fore-finger with hers, close through all the little turns and indentings of his works, pressing sometimes against the side of it, then treading upon its nail, then tripping it up, then touching it here, then there, and so on, it set something at least in motion. This, though slight skirmishing, and at a distance from the main body, yet drew on the rest; for here, the map usually falling with the back of it close to the side of the sentry-box, my uncle Toby, in the simplicity of his soul, would lay his hand flat upon it, in order to go on with his explanation ; and Mrs. Wadman, by a manoeuvre as quick as thought, would as certainly place hers close beside it. This at once opened a communication, large enough for any sentiment, to pass or re- pass, which a person skilled in the ele- mentary and practical part of love-making has occasion for. By bringing up her fore-finger parallel (as before) to my uncle Toby's, it una- voidably brought the thumb into action ; and the fore-finger and thumb being once engaged, as naturally brought in the whole hand. Thine, dear uncle Toby ! was never now in its right place Mrs. Wadman had it ever to take up, or, with the gentlest pushings, protrusions, and equivocal compressions, that a hand to be removed is capable of receiving, to get it pressed a hairbreadth of one side out of her way. Whilst this was doing, how could she forget to make him sensible that it was her leg (and no one's else) at the bottom of the sentry-box, which slightly press'd against the calf of his ! So that my uncle Toby being thus attacked, and sore pushed on both his wings, was it a wonder, if now and then, it put his centre in disorder ? The deuce take it ! said my uncle Toby. CHAPTER XVII. THESE attacks of Mrs. Wadman, you will readily conceive to be of different kinds ; varying from each other like the attacks which history is full of, and from the same reasons. A general looker-on would scarce allow them to be attacks at all ; or if he did, would confound them all together ; but I write not to them. It will be time enough to be a little more exact in my descriptions of them as I come up to them, which will not be for some chapters; having nothing more to 40 THE COURTSHIP OF UNCLE TOBY AND THE WIDOW WADMAN. add in this, but that in a bundle of ori- ginal papers and drawings, which my father took care to roll up oy themselves, there is a plan of Bouchain in perfect preservation (and shall be kept so, whilst I have power to preserve anything) ; upon the lower corner of which, on the right hand side, there are still remaining the marks of a snuffy finger and thumb; which, there is all the reason in the world to imagine, were Mrs. Wadman's ; for the opposite side of the margin, which I sup- pose to have been my uncle Toby's, is absolutely clean. This seems an authen- ticated record of one of these attacks ; for there are vestigia of the two punctures partly grown up, but still visible on the opposite corner of the map, which are un- questionably the very holes through which it has been pricked up in the sentry-box. By all that is priestly! I value this precious relic, with its stigmata, more than all the relics of the Romish church. CHAPTER XVIII. I THINK, an' please your Honor, quoth Trim, the fortifications are quite de- stroyed; and the basin is upon a level with the mole. I think so too, replied toy uncle Toby, with a sigh half suppress- ed ; but step into the parlor, Trim, for the stipulation ; it lies upon the table. It has lain there these six weeks, re- plied the corporal ; till this very morning that the old woman kindled the fire with it. Then, said my uncle Toby, there is no further occasion for our services. The more, an' please your Honor, the pity, said the corporal; in uttering which, he cast his spade into the wheel-barrow, which was beside him, with an air the most expressive of disconsolation that can be imagined, and was heavily turning about to look for his pick-axe, his pioneer's shovel, his piquets, and other little mili- tary stores, in order to carry them off the field, when a heigh-ho ! from the sentry- box, which being made of thin slit deal, reverberated the sound more sorrowful to his ear, forbade him. No, said the corporal to himself, I'll do it before his Honor rises to-morrow morning ; BO taking his spade out of the wheel-barrow again, with a little earth in it, as if to level something at the foot of the glacis, but with a real intent to approach nearer to his master, in order to divert him, he lopsen'd a sod or two, pared their edges with his spade, and having given them a gentle blow or two with the back of it, he sat himself down close by my uncle Toby's feet, and began as follows : CHAPTER XIX. IT was a thousand pities ; though I be- lieve, an' please your Honor, I am going to say but a foolish kind of a thing for a soldier A soldier, cried my uncle Toby, inter- rupting the corporal, is no more exempt from saying a foolish thing, Trim, than a man of letters, But not so often, an' please your Honor, replied the corporal. My uncle Toby gave a nod. It was a thousand pities, then, said the corporal, casting his eye upon Dunkirk ana the Mole, as Servius Sulpicius, in re- turning out of Asia (when he sailed from uEgina towards Megara) did upon Corinth and Pyraeus, " It was a thousand pities, an' please your Honor, to destroy these works, and a thousand pities to have let them stand." Thou art right, Trim, in both cases said my uncle Toby. This, continued the cor- poral, is the reason, that from the begin- ning of their demolition to the end, I have never once whistled, or sung, or laughed, or cryed, or talked of past-done deeds, or told your Honor one story, good or bad. Thou hast many excellencies, Trim, said my uncle Toby ; and I hold it not the least of them, as thou happenest to be a story-teller, that of the number thou hast told me, either to amuse me in my pain- ful hours, or divert me in my grave ones, thou hast seldom told me a bad one. Because, an' please your Honor, except one of a King of Bohemia and hit seven castles, they are all true ; for they arc about myself. I do not like the subject the worse, Trim, said my uncle Toby, on that score. But, prithee, what is this story? Thou hast excited my curiosity. I'll tell it your Honor, quoth the cor- poral, directly. Provided, said my uncle THE COURTSHIP OF UNCLE TOBY AND THE WIDOW WADMAN. 41 Toby, looking earnestly towards Dunkirk and the Mole again, provided it is not a merry one : to such, Trim, a man should ever bring one half of the entertainment along with him ; and the disposition I am in at present, would wrong both thee, Trim, and thy story. It is not a merry one, by any means, replied the corporal. Nor would I have it altogether a grave one, added my uncle Toby. It is neither the one nor the other, replied the corpo- ral ; but will suit your honor exactly. Then I'll thank thee for it with all my heart, cried my uncle Toby ; so prithee begin it, Trim. The corporal made his reverence ; and though it is not so easy a matter as the world imagines, to pull off a lank Monte- ro-cap with grace, or a whit less difficult, in my conceptions, when a man is sitting square upon the ground, to make a bow so teeming with respect as the corporal was wont, yet, by suffering the palm of his right hand, which was towards his master, to slip backwards upon the grass, a little beyond his body, in order to allow it the greater sweep, and by an unforced compression, at the same time, of his cap with the thumb and the two fore-fingers of his left, by which the diameter of the cap became reduced ; so that it might be said rather to be insensibly squeezed, than pulled off with a flatus, the corporal ac- quitted himself of both in a better manner than the posture of his affairs promised ; and having hemmed twice, to find in what key his story would best go, and best suit his master's humor, he exchanged a sin- gle look of kindness with him, and set off thus : THE STOBY OF THE KING OF BOHEMIA AND HIS SEVEN CASTLES. There was a certain King of Bo he As the corporal was entering the con- fines of Bohemia, my uncle Toby obliged him to halt for a single moment. He had set out bareheaded ; having, since he pulled off his Montero-cap in the latter end of the last chapter, left it lying beside him on the ground. The eye of Goodness espieth all things ; So that before the corporal had well got through the first five words of his story, had my uncle Toby twice touched his Montero-cap with the end of his cane, interrogatively : as much as to say, Why don't you put it on, Trim ? Trim took it up with the most respectful slowness, and casting a glance of humiliation, as he did it, upon the embroidery of the forepart, which being dismally tarnished and frayed, moreover, in some of the principal leaves and boldest parts of the pattern, he laid it down again between his two feet, in order to moralize upon the subject. 'Tis every word of it but too true, cried my uncle Toby, that thou art about to observe : "Nothing in this world, Trim, is made to last for ever." But when tokens, dear Tom, of thy love and remembrance wear out, said Trim, what shall we say ? There is no occasion, Trim, quoth my uncle Toby, to say any thing else ; and was a man to puzzle his brains till Dooms- day, I believe, Trim, it would be impos- sible. The corporal perceiving my uncle Toby was in the right, and that it would be in vain for the wit of man to think of ex- tracting a purer moral from his cap, with- out further attempting it, he put it on ; and passing his hand across his forehead to rub out a pensive wrinkle, which the text and doctrine between them had en- gendered, he returned, with the same look and tone of voice, to his story of the King of Bohemia and his seven castles. THE STOKT OF THE KING OF BOHEMIA AND HIS SEVEN CASTLES, CONTINUED. There was a certain King of Bohemia ; but in whose reign, except his own, I am not able to inform your Honor. I do not desire it of thee, Trim, by any means, cried my uncle Toby. It was a little before the time, an' please your Honor, when giants were beginning to leave off breeding : but in what year of our Lord that was I would not give a halfpenny to know, said my uncle Toby. Only, an' please your Honor, it makes a story look the better in the face. 'Tis thy own, Trim, so ornament it after thy own fashion ; and take any date, con- tinued my uncle Toby, looking pleasantly upon him ; take any date in the whole world thou choosest, and put it to ; thou art heartily welcome. The corporal bowed ; for of every cen- tury, and of every year of that century, from the first creation of the world down to Noah's flood; and from Noah's flood 42 THE COURTSHIP OF UNCLE TOBY AND THE WIDOW W ADMAN; to the birth of Abraham ; through all the pilgrimages of the patriarchs, to the de- parture of the Israelites out of Egypt; and throughout all the Dynasties, Olym- piads, Urbeconditas, and other memorable epochs of the different nations of the world, down to the coming of Christ, and from thence to the very moment in which the corporal was telling his story, had my uncle Toby subjected this vast empire of time, and all its abysses, at his feet ; but as Modesty scarce touches with a finger what Liberality offers her with both hands open, the corporal contented himself with the very worst year of the whole bunch ; which, to prevent your Honors of the Majority and Minority from tearing the very flesh off your bones in contestation, "Whether that year is not always the last-cast year of the last-cast almanac?" I tell you plainly, it was ; but from a dif- ferent reason than you wot of. It was the year next him, which, being the year of our Lord seventeen hundred and twelve, when the Duke of Ormond was playing the Devil in Flanders, the corporal took it, and set out with it afresh on his expedition to Bohemia. THE STOKY OF THE KING OF BOHEMIA AND HIS SEVEN CASTLES, CONTINUED. In the year of our Lord one thousand seven hundred and twelve, there was, an' please your Honor To tell thee truly, Trim, quoth my uncle Toby, any other date would have pleased me much better, not only on account of the sad stain upon our history that year, in marching off our troops, and refusing to cover the siege of Quesnoi, though Fagel was carrying on the works with such incredible vigor, but likewise on the score, Trim, of thy own story ; because if there are and which, from what thou hast dropt, I partly suspect to be the fact if there are giants in it There is but one, an' please your Honor. 'Tis as bad as twenty, replied my uncle Toby; thou should'st have carried him back some seven or eight hundred years out of harm's way, both of critics and other people ; and therefore I advise thee, if ever thou tellest it again If I live, an' please your Honor, but once to get through it, I will never tell it again, quoth Trim, either to man, woman, or child. Poo, poo ! said my uncle Toby ; but with accents of such sweet encouragement did he utter it, that the corporal went on with his story with more alacrity than ever. THE STORY OF THE KING OF BOHEMIA AND HIS SEVEN CASTLES, CONTINUED. There was, 'an please your Honor, said the corporal, raising his voice and rubbing the palms of his two hands cheerily to- ether as he began, a certain King of Bo- emia Leave out the date entirely, Trim, quoth my uncle Toby, leaning forwards, and lay- ing his Land gently upon the corporal's shoulder to temper the interruption, leave it out entirely, Trim ; a story passes very well without these niceties, unless one is pretty sure of 'em. Sure of 'em ! said the corporal, shaking his head. Right, answered my uncle Toby : it is not easy, Trim, for one, bred up as thou and I have been to arms, who seldom looks further forward than to the end of his musket, or backwards beyond his knap- sack, to know much about this matter, God bless your Honor ! said the corporal, won by the manner of my uncle Toby's reasoning, as much as by the reasoning itself, he has something else to do ; if not in action, or on a march, or upon duty in his garrison, he has his firelock, an' please your Honor, to furbish, his accoutrements to take care of, his regimentals to mend, himself to shave and keep clean, so as to appear always like what he is upon the parade ; what business,added the corporal triumphantly, has a soldier, an' please your Honor, to know anything at all of geography t Thou would' st have said chronology, Trim, said my uncle Toby ; for as for geography, 'tis of absolute use to him ; he must be acquainted intimately with every country and its boundaries where his pro- fession carries him ; he should know every town and city, and village and hamlet, with the canals, the roads, and hollow- ways, which lead up to them. There is not a river or a rivulet he passes, Trim, but he should be able, at first sight, to tell thee what is its name, in what mountains it takes its rise, what is its course, how far it is navigable, where fordable, where not ; he should know the fertility of every valley, as well as the hind who ploughs it; and be able to describe, or, if it is re- THE COURTSHIP OF UNCLE TOBY AND THE WIDOW WADMAN. 43 quired, to give thee an exact map of all trie plains and defiles, the forts, the acclivities, the woods and morasses, through and by which his army is to march; he should know their produce, their plants, their minerals, their waters, their animals, their seasons, their climates, their heats and colds, their inhabitants, their customs, their language, their policy, and even their religion. Is it else to be conceived, corporal, continued my uncle Toby, rising up in his sentry-box as he began to warm in this part of his discourse, how Marl- borough could have marched his army from the banks of the Maes to Bel- burg ; from Belburg to Kerpenord (here the corporal could sit no longer) ; from Kerpenord, Trim, to Kalsaken ; from Kal- saken to Newdorf ; from Newdorf to Lan- denbourg ; from Landenbourg to Milden- heim ; from Mildenheim to Elchingen ; from Elchingen to Gingen ; from Gingen to Balmerchoffen ; from Balmerchoffen to Skellenburg, where he broke in upon the gnemy's works, forced his passage over the Danube, crossed the Lech, pushed on his troops into the heart of the empire, marching at the head of them through Fribourg, Hokenwert and Schonevelt, to the plains of Blenheim and Hochstet? Great as he was, corporal, he could not have advanced a step, or made one single day's march, without the aids of geo- graphy. As for chronology, I own, Trim, continued my uncle Toby, sitting down again coolly in his sentry-box, that, of all others, it seems a science which the sol- dier might best spare, was it not for the lights which that science must one day give him, in determining the invention of powder ; the furious execution of which, reversing everything, like thunder, before it has become a new era to us of military improvements, changing so totally the nature of attacks and defences, both by sea and land, and awakening so much art and skill in doing it, that the world cannot be too exact in ascertaining the precise time of its discovery, or too inquisitive in knowing what great man was the discoverer, and what occaaions gave birth to it. I am far from controverting, continued my uncle Toby, what historians agree in, that in the year of our Lord 1380, under the reign of Wencelaus, son of Charles the Fourth, a certain priest, whose name was Schwartz, showed the use of powder to the Venetians, in their wars against the Genoese ; but 'tis certain he was not the first; because, if we are to believe Don Pedro, the Bishop of Leon How came priests and bishops, an' please your Honor, to trouble their heads so much about gunpowder ? God knows, said my uncle Toby ; his providence brings good out of every thing, and he avers, in his chronicle of King Alphonsus, who reduced Toledo, that in the year 1343, which was full thirty -seven years before that time, the secret of pow- der was well known, and employed with success, both by Moors and Christians, not only in their sea-combats, at that period, but in many of their most memorable sieges in Spain and Barbary ; and all the world knows, that Friar Bacon had wrote expressly about it, and had generously given the world a receipt to make it by, above a hundred and fifty years before even Schwartz was born ; and that the Chinese, added my uncle Toby, embarrass us, and all accounts of it, still more, by boasting of the invention some hundreds of years even before him. they are a pack of liars, I believe, cried Trim. They are somehow or other deceived, said my uncle Toby, in this matter, as is plain to me from the present miserable state of military architecture amongst them ; which consists of nothing more than a foss6 with a brick wall without flanks ; and for what they give us as a bastion at each angle of it, 'tis so bar- barously constructed, that it looks for all the world like one of my seven castles, an' please your Honor, quoth Trim. My uncle Toby, though in the utmost distress for a comparison, most courteously refused Trim's offer, till Trim, telling him he had half a dozen more in Bohemia, which he knew not how to get off his hands, my uncle Toby was so touched with the pleasantry of heart of the corporal, that he discontinued his dissertation upon gunpowder, and begged the corporal orthwith to go on with his story of the King of Bohemia and his seven castles. THE STOEY OF THE KINO OF BOHEMIA AND HIS SEVEN CASTLES, CONTINUED. This unfortunate King of Bohemia, said Trim- Was he unfortunate then? cried my 44 THE COURTSHIP OF UNCLE TOBY AND THE WIDOW WADMAN. uncle Toby, for he had been so wrapt up in his dissertation upon gunpowder, and other military affairs, that though he had desired the corporal to go on, yet the many interruptions he had, given, dwelt not so strong on his fancy as to account for the epithet. Was he unfortunate then, Trim, said my uncle Toby, pathetically. The corporal, wishing first the word and all its synonimas at the devil, forthwith began to run back in his mind the prin- cipal events in the King of Bohemia's story ; from every one of which, it ap- pearing that he was the most fortunate man that ever existed in the world, it put the corporal to a stand ; for not caring to retract his epithet, and less to explain it, and least of all to twist his tale (like men of lore) to serve a system, he looked up in my uncle Toby's face for assistance ; but seeing it was the very thing my uncle Toby sat in expectation of himself, after a hum and a haw, he went on The King of Bohemia, an' please your Honor, replied the corporal, was unfortu- nate, as thus : That taking great pleasure and delight in navigation and all sorts of sea affairs, and there happening through- out the whole kingdom of Bohemia to be no sea-port town whatever How the deuce should there, Trim? cried my uncle Toby ; for Bohemia being totally inland, it could have happen'd no otherwise. It might, said Trim, if it had pleased God. My uncle Toby never spoke of the being and natural attributes of God, but with diffidence and hesitation. I believe not, replied my uncle Toby, after some pause ; for being inland, as I said, and having Silesia and Moravia to the east ; Lusatia and Upper Saxony to the north ; Franconia to the west, and Bavaria to the south, Bohemia could not have been propelled to the sea without ceasing to be Bohemia ; nor could the sea, on the other hand, have come up to Bo- hemia, without overflowing a great part of Germany, and destroying millions of unfortunate inhabitants who could make no defence against it. Scandalous, cried Trim. Which would bespeak, added my uncle Toby, mildly, such a want of com- passion in him who is the father of it, that I think, Trim, the thing could have happened no way. The corporal made the bow of unfeigned conviction, and went on : Now the King of Bohemia, with his Queen and courtiers, happening one fine summer's evening to walk out- Ay, there the word happening is right, Trim, cried my uncle Toby ; for the King of Bohemia and his Queen might have walked out or let it alone 'twas a matter of contingency which might happen or not, just as chance ordered it. King William was of an opinion, an' please your Honor, quoth Trim, that every thing was predestined for us in this world ; insomuch, that he would often say to his soldiers, that " every ball had its billet." He was a great man, said my uncle Toby. And I believe, continued Trim, to this day, that the shot which dis- abled me at the battle of Landen, was pointed at my knee for no other purpose but to take me out of his service, and place me in your Honor's, where I should be taken so much better care of in my old age. It shall never, Trim, be construed otherwise, said my uncle Toby. The heart, both of the master and the man, were alike subject to sudden over- flowings a short silence ensued. Besides, said the corporal, resuming the discourse, but in a gayer accent, if it had not been for that single shot, I had never, an' please your Honor, been in love. So thou wast once in love, Trim ? said my uncle Toby, smiling. Souse ! replied the corporal over head and ears ! an' please your Honor. Pri- thee, when? where? and how came it to pass ? I never heard one word of it be- fore, quoth my uncle Toby. I dare say, answered Trim, that every drummer and sergeant's son in the regiment knew of it. 'Tis high time I should, said my uncle Toby. Your Honor remembers with concern, said the corporal, the total rout and con- fusion of our camp and army at the affair of Landen : every one was left to shift for himself; and if it had not been for the regiments of Wyndham, Lumley, and Gal- way, which covered the retreat over the bridge of Neerspeeken. the king himself could scarce have gained it; he was pressed hard, as your Honor knows, on every side of him. Gallant mortal ! cried my uncle Toby, caught with enthusiasm, this moment ; now that all is lost, I see him galloping across me, corporal, to the left, to bring up the remains of the English horse along THE COURTSHIP OF UNCLE TOBY AND THE WIDOW WADMAN. with him, to support the right, and tear the laurel from Luxembourg's brows, if yet 'tis possible ; I see him with the knot of his scarf just shot off, infusing fresh spirits into poor Gal way's regiment, riding along the line then wheeling about, and charg- ing Conti at the head of it. Brave ! brave, by heaven ! cried my uncle Toby ; he de- serves a crown. As richly, as a thief a halter, shouted Trim. My uncle Toby knew the corporal's loyalty otherwise the comparison was not at all to his mind : it did not alto- gether strike the corporal's fancy when he had made it ; but it could not be recalled ; so he had nothing to do, but proceed. As the number of wounded was pro- digious, and no one had time to think of any thing but his own safety; though Talmash, said my uncle Toby, brought off the foot with great prudence. But I was left upon the field, said the corporal. Thou wast so, poor fellow! replied my uncle Toby. So that it was noon the next day, continued the corporal, before I was exchanged, and put into a cart with thirteen or fourteen more, in order to be conveyed to our hospital. There is no part of the body, an' please your Honor, where a wound occasions more intolerable anguish than upon the knee. Except the groin, said my uncle Toby. An' please your Honor, replied the corpo- ral, the knee, in my opinion, must certainly be the most acute, there being so many tendons and what-d'-ye-call'-ems all about it (for I know their names as little as thou dost) ; but moreover, * * * It is for that reason, quoth my uncle Toby, that the groin is infinitely more sensible; there being not only as many tendons and what-d'-ye-call-'ems. Mrs. Wadinan, who had been all the time in her arbor, instantly stopped her breath, unpinned her mob at the chin, and stood upon one leg. The dispute was maintained with ami- cable and equal force betwixt my uncle Toby and Trim, for some time, till Trim at length recollecting that he had often cried at his master's sufferings, but never shed a tear at his own, was for giving up the point which my uncle Toby would not allow. 'Tia a proof of nothing, Trim, said he, but the generosity of thy temper. So that whether the pain of a wound In the groin (cceferis paribus) is greater than the pain of a wound in the knee or Whether the pain of a wound in the knee is not greater than the pain of a wound in the groin, are points which to this day remain unsettled. CHAPTER XX. THE anguish of my knee, continued the corporal, was excessive in itself; and the uneasiness of the cart, with the rough- ness of the roads, which were terribly cut up, making bad still worse, every step was death to me ; so that with the loss of blood, and the want of care-taking of me, and a fever I felt coming on besides (Poor soul 1 said my uncle Toby.) All together, an' please your Honor, wag more than I could sustain. I was telling my suffering to a young woman, at a peasant's house, where our cart, which was the last of the line, had halted ; they had helped me in, and the young woman had taken a cordial out of her pocket and dropped it upon some sugar ; and seeing it had cheered me, she had given it me a second and a third time. So I was telling her, an' please your Honor, the anguish I was in, and was saying it was so intolerable to me, that I had much rather lie down upon the bed, turning my face towards one which was in the corner of the room, and die, than go on when, upon the attempting to lead me to it, I fainted in her arms. She was a good soul! as your Honor, said the corporal, wiping his eyes, will hear. I thought love had been a joyous thing, quoth my uncle Toby. 'Tis the most serious thing, an' please your Honor (sometimes), that is in the world. By the persuasion of the young woman, continued the corporal, the cart with the wounded men set off without me ; she had assured them I should expire immediate- ly if I was put into the cart. So when I came to myself, I found myself in a still, quiet cottage, with no one but the young woman, and the peasant and his wife. I was laid across the bed, in the corner of the room, with my wounded leg upon a chair, and the young woman beside me, holding the corner of her handkerchief 46 THE COURTSHIP OF UNCLE TOBY AND THE WIDOW WADMAN. dipped in vinegar to my nose with one hand, and rubbing my temples with the other. I took her at first for the daughter of the peasant (for it was no inn), so had offered her a little purse with eighteen flor- ins in, which my poor brother Tom (here Trim wiped his eyes) had sent me as a token, by a recruit, just before he set out for Lisbon. I never told your Honor that piteous story yet (Here Trim wip'd his eyes a third time.) The young woman call'd the old man and his wife into the room to show them the money, in order to gain me credit for a bed and what little necessaries I should want, till I should be in a condition to be got to the hospital. Come then, said she, tying up the purse, I'll be your banker; but as that office alone will not keep me employed,!'!! be your nurse too. j I thought by her manner of speaking this, as well as by her dress, which I then began to consider more attentively, that the young woman could not be the daugh- ter of the peasant. She was in black down to her toes, with her hair concealed under a cambric, bor- der, laid close to her forehead : she was one of those kind of nuns, an' please your Honor, of which your Honor knows there are a good many in Flanders, which they let go loose. By thy description, Trim, said my uncle Toby, I dare say she was a young Beguine, of which there was none to be found anywhere but in Spanish Netherlands, -except at Amsterdam: they differ from nuns, in this, that they can quit their cloister if they choose to marry ; tney visit and take care of the sick by profession. I had rather, for my own part, they did it out of good-nature. She often told me, quoth Trim, she did it for the love of Christ. I did not like it. I believe, Trim, we are both wrong, said my uncle Toby : we'll ask Mr. Yorick about it to-night at my brother Shandy's ; BO put me in mind, added my uncle Toby. The young Beguine, continued the cor- poral, had scarcely given herself time to tell me, " she would be my nurse," when she hastily turned about to begin the of- fice of one, and prepare something for me ; and in a short time, though I thought it a long cne, she came back with flan- nels, &c &c., and having fomented my knee soundly for "a couple of hours, &c., and made me a basin of thin gruel for my supper, she wished me rest, and promised to be with me early in the morning. She wished me, an' please your Honor, what was not to be had. My fever ran very high that very night; her figure made s'ad disturbance within me; I was every moment cutting the world in two, to give her half of it; and every moment was I crying, That I had nothing but a knap- sack and eighteen florins to share with her. The whole night long was the fair Beguine, like an angel, close by my bed- side, holding back my curtain, and offer- ing me cordials; and I was only awak- ened from my dream by her coming there at the hour promised, and giving them in reality. In truth, she was scarce ever from me; and so accustomed was I to receive life from her hands, that my heart sickened and I lost my color, when she left the room; and yet, continued the corporal, (making one of the strangest re- flections upon it, in the world) " It was not love ;" for during the three weeks she was almost constantly with me, fomenting my knee with her hand night and day, I can honestly say, an' please your Honor, that ******* * * * once. That was very odd, Trim, quoth my uncle Toby. I think so too, said Mrs. Wadman. It never did, said the corporal. CHAPTER XXI. BUT 't is no marvel, continued the cor- poral, seeing my uncle Toby musing upon it, for love, an' please your Honor, is ex- actly like war, hi this; that a soldier, though he has escaped three weeks com- plete o' Saturday night, may, neverthe- less, be shot through his heart on Sunday morning. It happened so here, an' please your Honor, with this difference only, that it was on Sunday in the afternoon, when I fell in love all at once with sisserara. It burst upon me, an' please your Honor, like a bomb, scarce giving me time to say " God bless me." I thought, Trim, said my uncle Toby, a man never fell in love so very sudden. Yes, an' please your Honor, if he is in the way of it, replied Trim. THE COURTSHIP OF UNCLE TOBY AND THE WIDOW WADMAN. 47 I prithee, quoth ray uncle Toby, inform me how this matter happened. With all pleasure said the corporal, making a bow. CHAPTER XXII. I HAD escaped, continued the corporal, fell that time from falling in love, and had gone on to the end of the chapter, had it not been predestined otherwise. There is no resisting our fate. It was on Sunday, in the afternoon, as I told your Honor. The old man and hia wife had walked out. Every thing was still and huah as mid- night about the house. There was not so much as a duck or a duckling about the yard, When the fair Beguine came in to see me. My wound was then in a fair way of doing well, the inflammation had been gone off for some time; but it was succeeded with an itching both above and below my knee, so insufferable, that I had not shut my eyes the whole night for it. Let me see it, said she, kneeling down upon the ground parallel to my knee, and laying her hand upon the part below it. It only wants rubbing a little, said the Beguine; so covering it with the bed- clothes, she began with the fore-finger of her right hand to rub under my knee, guiding her fore-finger backwards and for- wards by the edge of the flannel which kept on the dressing. In five or six minutes I felt slightly the end of her second finger, and presently it was laid flat with the other, and she con- tinued rubbing in that way round and round for a good while : it then came into my head, that I should fall in love : I blushed when I saw how white a hand she had. I shall never, an please your Honor behold another hand so white whilst I live. Not in that place, said my uncle Toby. Though it was the most serious despair in nature to the corporal, he could not forbear smiling. The young Beguine, continued the cor- poral, perceiving it was of great service to me, from rubbing for some time, with two fingers, proceeded to rub at length with three, till by little and little she brought down the fourth, and then rubbed with her whole hand. I will never say another word, an' please your Honor, upon hands again; but it was softer than satin. Prithee, Trim, commend it as much as thou wilt, said my uncle Toby; I shall hear thy story with the more delight. The corporal thanked his master most unfeignedly ; but having nothing to say upon the Beguine's hand but the same over again, he proceeded to the effects of it. The fair Beguine, said the corporal, continued rubbing with her whole hand under my knee, till I fear'd her zeal would weary her. " I would do a thousand times more," said she, " for the love of Christ." In saying which, she pass'd her hand across the flannel, te the part above my knee, which I had equally complained of, and rubb'd it also. I perceived then, I was beginning to be in love. As she continued rub-rub-rubbing, I felt it spread from under her hand, an' please your Honor, to every part of my frame. The more she rubbed and the longer strokes she took, the more the fire kindled in my veins, till at length, by two or three strokes longer than the rest, my passion rose to the highest pitch. I seized her hand. And then thou clapped'st it to thy lips, Trim, said my uncle Toby, and madest a speech. Whether the corporal's amour termina- ted precisely in the way my uncle Toby described it, is not material ; it is enough that it contained in it the essence of all the love-romances which ever have been wrote since the beginning of the world. CHAPTER XXIII. As soon as the corporal had finished the story of his amour, or rather my uncle Toby for him, Mrs. Wadman silently sallied forth from her arbor, replaced the pin in her mob, pass'd the wicker-gate, and advanced slowly towards my uncle Toby's sentry-box : the disposition which Trim had made in my uncle Toby's mind, was too favorable a crisis to be let slip. The attack was determined upon : it was facilitated still more by my uncle Toby's having ordered the corporal to wheel off the pioneer's shovel, the spade, the pick- axe, the piquets, and other military stores 48 THE COURTSHIP OF UNCLE TOBY AND THE WIDOW W ADMAN. which lay scattered upon the ground where Dunkirk stood. The corporal had marched ; the field was clear. Now, consider, Sir, what nonsense it is, either in fighting, or writing, or any thing else (whether in rhyme to it, or not) which a man has occasion to do, to act by plan : for if ever Plan, independent of all circum- stances, deserved registering in letters of gold (I mean in the archives of Gotham) it was certainly the plan of Mrs. Wad- man's attack of my uncle Toby in his sentry-box, by plan. Now, the plan hang- ing up in it at this juncture, being the plan of Dunkirk, and the tale of Dunkirk a tale of relaxation, it opposed every impression she could make : and, besides, could she have gone upon it, the manoeuvre of fingers and hands in the attack of the sentry-box, was so outdone by that of the fair Beguine's, in Trim's story, that just then, that particular attack, however successful before, became the most heart- less attack that could be made. O ! let woman alone for this. Mrs. Wadman had scarce open'd the wicker- gate, when her genius sported with the change of circumstances. She formed a new attack in a moment. CHAPTER XXIV. I AM half distracted, Captain Shandy, said Mrs. Wadman, holding up her cam- bric handkerchief to her left eye, as she approach'd the door of my uncle Toby's sentry-box ; a mote, or sand, or something, I know not what, has got into this eye of mine; do look into it: it is not in the white. In saying which, Mrs. Wadman edged herself close in beside my uncle Toby, and squeezing herself down upon the corner of his bench, she gave him an opportunity of doing it without rising up, Do look into it, said she, Honest soul ! thou didst look into it with as much innocency of heart as ever child looked into a raree show-box ; and 't were as much a sin to have hurt thee. If a man will be peeping of his own ac- cord into things of that nature, I've noth- ing to say to it. My uncle Toby never did ; and I will answer for him, that he would have sat quietly upon a sofa from June to January j (which you know takes in both the hot and cold months) with an eye as fine as the Thracian* Rhodope's beside him, without being able to tell whether it was a black or a blue one. The difficulty was, to get my uncle Toby to look at one at all. 'Tis surmounted. And I see him yonder, with his pipe pendu- lous in his hand, and the ashes falling out of it, looking, and looking, then rub- bing his eyes, and looking again, with twice the good-nature that ever Galileo looked for a spot in the sun. In vain 1 for, by all the powers which animate the organ, Widow Wadman'sleft eye shines this moment as lucid as her right ; there is neither mote, nor sand, nor dust, nor chaff, nor speck, nor particle of opaque matter floating in it. There is nothing, my dear paternal uncle ! but one lambent delicious fire, furtively shooting out from every part of it, in all directions into thine. If thou lookest, my uncle Toby, in search of this mote one moment longer, thou art undone. CHAPTER XXV. AN eye is, for all the world, exactly like a cannon, in this respect, That it is not so much the eye or the cannon, in themselves, as it is the carriage of the eye, and the carriage of the cannon ; by which both the one and the other are en- abled to do so much execution. I don't think the comparison a baa one: how- ever, as 'tis made and placed at the head of the chapter, as much for use as ornament, all I desire in return, is, that whenever I speak of Mrs. Wadman's eyes, (except once in the next period) that you keep it in your fancy. I protest, Madam, said my uncle Toby, I can see nothing whatever in your eye. It is not in the white, said Mrs. Wad- man. My uncle Toby looked with might and main into the pupil. Now, of all the eyes which ever were created ; from your own, Madam, up to those of Venus herself, which certainly * Rhodope Thracia tarn iuevitabili faacino instructo tarn oxacte ocnlis intueng attraxit, ut si in illam qi incidissot, lien non posset, quin eaperetur. 1 KNOW NOT WHO. THE COURTSHIP OF UNCLE TOBY AND THE WIDOW WADMAN. 49 were as venereal a pair of eyes as ever stood in a head, there never was an eye of them ail so fitted to rob my uncle Toby of his repose, as the very eye at which he was looking ; it was not, Madam, a roll- ing eye, a romping, or a wanton one ; nor was it an eye sparkling, petulant, or im- perious, of high claims and terrifying ex- actions, which would have curdled at once that milk of human nature, of which my uncle Toby was made up : but 't was an eye full of gentle salutations, and soft responses, speaking, not like the trumpet stop of some ill-made organ, in which many an eye I talk to holds coarse con- verse, but whispering soft, like the last low accents of an expiring saint, " How can you live comfortless, Captain Shandy, and aione, without a bosom to lean your head on, or trust your cares to ?'' It was an eye - But I shall be in love with it myself, if I say another word about it. It did my uncle Toby's business. CHAPTER XXVI. THERE is nothing shows the characters of my father and my uncle Toby in a more entertaining light, than their different manner of deportment under the same accident ; for I call not love a misfortune ; from a persuasion, that a man's heart is ever the better for it. Great God I what must my uncle Toby's have been, when 'twas all benignity without it! My father, as appears from many of his papers, was very subject to this passion before he married ; but, from a little subacid kind of drollish impatience in his nature, whenever it befell him, he would never submit to it like a Christian ; but would huff, and bounce, and kick, and play the devil, and write the bitterest Philippics against the eye that ever man wrote ; there is one in verse upon some- body's eye or other, that, for two or three nights together, had put him by his rest ; which, in his first transport of resentment against it, he begins thus : u A. devil 't is, and mischief such doth work As never yet did Pagan, Jew, or Turk."* In short, during the whole paroxysm, *c ' This will be printed with my father's Life of Socrates, my father was all abuse and foul language approaching rather towards malediction ; only he did not do it with as much method as Ernulphus ; he was too impetuous ; nor with Ernulphus's policy; for though my father, with the most intolerant spirit, would curse both this and that, and every thing under Heaven, which was either aiding or abetting to his love, yet he never concluded his chapter of curses upon it, without cursing himself in at the bargain, as one of the most egregious fools and cox- combs, he would say, that ever was let loose in the world. My uncle Toby, on the contrary, took it like a lamb, sat still, and let the poison work in his veins without resistance ; in the sharpest exacerbations of his wound (like that on his groin) he never dropt one fretful or discontented word, he blamed neither heaven nor earth, nor thought, nor spoke an injurious thing of any body, or any part of it ; he sat solitary and pen- sive with his pipe, looking at his lame leg, then whining out a sentimental heigh-ho ! which, mixing with the smoke, incom- moded no one mortal. He took it like a lamb, I say. CHAPTER XXVII. THE world is ashamed of being virtuous. My uncle Toby knew little of the world ; and therefore, when he felt he was in love with Widow Wadman, he had no con- ception that the thing was any more to be made a mystery of, than if Mrs. Wadman had given him a cut with a gaped knife across his finger. Had it been otherwise yet, as he looked upon Trim as an humble friend, and saw fresh reasons every day of his life to treat him as such it would have made no variation in the manner in which he informed him of the affair. " I am in love, corporal I " quoth my uncle Toby. CHAPTER XXVIII. IN love ! said the corporal, your Honor was very well the day before yesterday, when I was telling your Honor the story of the King of Bohemia. Bohemia! said my uncle Toby .... musing a long time .... What became of that story, Trim ? VOL. II. W. H. THE COURTSHIP OF UNCLE TOBY AND THE WIDOW W ADM AN. We lost it, an' please your Honor, somehow betwixt us; but your Honor was as free from love then, as I am. 'T was just whilst thou went'st off with the wheelbarrow, with Mrs. Wadman, quoth my uncle Toby. She has left a ball nere, added my uncle Toby, pointing to his breast. She can no more, an' please your Honor, stand a siege, than she can fly, cried the corporal. But as we are neighbors, Trim, the best way, I think, is to let her know it civilly first, quoth my uncle Toby. Now, if I might presume, said the cor- poral, to differ from your Honor. Why else do I talk to thee, Trim ? said my uncle Toby, mildly. Then I would begin, an' please your Honor, with making a good thundering attack upon her, in return, and telling her civilly afterwards; for if she knows anything of your Honor's being in love, beforehand, L d help her ! She knows no more at present of it, Trim, said my uncle Toby, than the child unborn. Precious souls ! Mrs. Wadman had told it, with all its circumstances, to Mrs. Bridget, twenty- four hours before ; and was, at that very moment, sitting in council with her, touching some slight misgivings with re- gard to the issue of the affair, which the Devil, who never lies dead in a ditch, had put into her head, before he would allow her half time to get quietly through her Te Deum. We'll know the long and broad of it in ten days, answered Mrs. Bridget; for whilst the captain is paying his addresses to you, I'm confident Mr. Trim will be for making love to me ; and I'll let him, as much as he will, added Bridget, to get it all out of him. The measures were taken at once ; and my uncle Toby and the corporal went on with theirs. Now, quoth the corporal, setting his left hand a kimbo, and giving such a nourish with his right, as just promised success, and no more, if your Honor will give me leave to lay down the plan of this attack. Thou wilt please me by it, Trim, 8aid my uncle Toby, exceedingly, and as I foresee thou must act in it as my aid-de- camp, here's a crown, corporal, to begin with, to steep thy commission. Then, an' please your Honor, said the corporal (making a bow first for his com- mission), we will begin by getting your Honor's laced clothes out of the great campaign-trunk, to be well aired, and have the blue and gold taken up at the sleeves ; and I'll put your white ramillie-wig fresh into pipes ; and send for a tailor to have your Honor's thin scarlet breeches turned. I had better take the red plush ones, quoth my uncle Toby. They will be too clumsy, said the corporal. CHAPTER XXIX. THOU wilt get a brush and a little chalk to my sword. 'T will be only in your Honor's way, replied Trim. CHAPTER XXX. Bur your Honor's two razors shall be new set, and I will get my Montero-cap furbished up, and put on poor Lieutenant Le Fevre's regimental coat, which your Honor gave me to wear for his sake ; and as soon as your Honor is clean shaved, and has got your clean shirt on, with your blue and gold or your fine scarlet, some- times one and sometimes t'other, and everything is ready for the attack, we'll march up Doldly, as if 't was to the face of a bastion ; and whilst your Honor engages Mrs. Wadman in the parlor to the rignt, I'll attack Mrs. Bridget in the kitchen to the left; and having seized that pass, I'll answer for it, said the corporal, snapping his fingers over his head, that the day is your own. I wish I may but manage it right, said my uncle Toby ; but I declare, corporal, I had rather march up to the very edge of a trench. A woman is quite a different thing, said the corporal. I suppose so, quoth my uncle Toby. CHAPTER XXXI. IF anything in this world, which my father said, could have provoked my uncle Toby during the time he was in love, it THE COURTSHIP OF UNCLE TOBY AND THE WIDOW WADMAN. was the perverse use my father was always making of an exoression of Hilarion the hermit ; who, in speaking of his absti- nence, his watchings, flagellations, and other instrumental parts of his religion, would say, though with more facetiousness than became a hermit, " That they were the means he used to make his ass (mean- ing his body) leave off kicking." It pleased my father well ; it was not only a laconic way of expressing, but of libelling, at the same time, the desires and appetites of part of us; so that for many years of my father's life, 't was his constant mode of expression; he never used the word passions once, but ass always, instead of them ; so that he might be said truly to have been upon the bones, or the back of his own ass, or else of some other man's, during all that time. I must here observe to you the difference betwixt My father's Ass and My HOBBY-HORSE, in order to keep characters as separate as may be, in our fancies as we go along. For my Hobby-Horse, if you recollect a little, is no way a vicious beast ; he has scarce one hair or lineament of the ass about him. 'T is the sporting little filly- folly which carries you out for the present hour a maggot, a butterfly, a picture, a fiddle-stick, an uncle Toby's siege, or an anything which a man makes a shift to get astride on, to canter it away from the cares and solicitudes of life. 7 T is as use- ful a beast as is in the whole creation ; nor do I really see how the world could do without it. But for my father's ass. Oh ! mount him mount him mount him (that's three times, is it not?) mount him not: ' tis a beast concupiscent ; and foul befall the man who does not hinder him from kicking. CHAPTER XXXII. EVERY body, said my mother, says you are in love, brother Toby ; and we hope it is true. I am as much in love, sister, I believe, replied my uncle Toby, as any man usually is. Humph ! said my father. And when did you know it ? quoth my mother. CHAPTER XXXIII. As the ancients agree, brother Toby, said my father, that there are two different and distinct kinds of love, according to the different parts which are affected by it, the brain or liver, I think when a man is in love, it behooves him a little to consider which of the two he has fallen into. What signifies it, brother Shandy, re- plied my uncle Toby, which of the two it is, provided it will but make a man marry, and love his wife and children ? Children ! cried my father, rising out of his chair, and looking full in my mother's face, as he forced his way betwixt hers and Doctor Slop's. Children! cried my father, repeating my uncle Toby's words as he walked to and fro. Not, my dear brother Toby, cried my father, recovering himself all at once, and coming close up to the back of my uncle Toby's chair, not that I should be sorry hadst thou a score: on the contrary, I should rejoice, and be as kind, Toby, to every one of them as a father. My uncle Toby stole his hand, unper- ceived, behind his chair, to give my father's a squeeze. Nay, moreover, continued he, keeping hold of my uncle Toby's hand, so much dost thou possess, my dear Toby, of the milk of human nature, and so little of its asperities, 't is piteous the world is not peopled by creatures which resemble thee ! There is, at least, said Yorick, a -great deal of reason and plain sense in Captain Shandy's opinion of love ; and 'tis amongst the ill-spent hours of my life, which I have to answer for, that I have read so many flourishing poets and rhetoricians in my time from whom I never could ex- tract so much. I wish, Yorick, said my father, you had read Plato : for there you would have learnt that there are two loves. I know there are two religions, replied Yorick, amongst the ancients ; one for the vulgar, and an- other for the learned : but I think one love might have served both of them very well. It could not, replied my father, and for the same reasons ; for, of these loves, according to Ficinus's comment upon Velasius, the one is rational, The other is natural ; the first ancient, without mother, where Venus had nothing to do ; the second begotten of Jupiter and Dione. 62 THE COURTSHIP OF UNCLE TOBY AND THE WIDOW WADMAN. Pray, brother, quoth my uncle Toby, what has a man who believes in God to do with this ? My father could not stop to answer, for fear of breaking the thread of his discourse. This latter, continued he, partakes wholly of the nature of Venus. The first, which is the golden chain let down from heaven, excites to love heroic, which comprehends in it, and excites to, the desire of philosophy and truth ; the second excites to desire simply. I think the procreation of children as beneficial to the world, said Yorick, as the finding out the longitude. To be sure, said my mother, love keeps peace in the world. In the house, my dear, I own. It replenishes the earth, said my mo- ther. But it keeps heaven empty, my dear, replied my father. ^Tis Virginity, cried Slop, triumphant- ly, which fills Paradise. Well pushed,nun I quoth my father. CHAPTER XXXIV. MY father had such a skirmishing, cut- ting kind of a slashing way with him in his disputations, thrusting and ripping, and giving every one a stroke to remem- ber him by, in his turn, that if there were twenty people in company, in less than half an hour he was sure to have every one of them against him. What did not a little contribute to leave him thus without an ally, was, that if there was any one post more untenable than the rest, he would be sure to throw himself into it ; and to do him justice, when he was once there, he would defend it so gallantly, that 't would have been a concern, either to a brave man, or a good- natured one, to have seen him driven out. Yorick, for this reason, though he would often attack, yet could never bear to do it with all his force. Doctor Slop's Virginity, in the close of the last chapter, had got him for once on the right side of the rampart ; and he was beginning to blow up all the convents in Christendom about Slop's ears, when Corporal Trim came into the parlor to inform my uncle Toby, that his thin scarlet breeches, in which the attack was to be made upon Mrs. Wadman, would not do ; for that the tailor, in ripping them up, in order to turn them, had found that they had been turned before. Then turn them again, brother, said my father, rapidly, for there will be many a turning of them yet before all's done in the affair. They are as rotten as dirt, said the corporal. Then by all means, said my father, bespeak a new pair, bro- ther; for though I know, continued my father, turning himself to the company, that Widow Wadman has been deeply in love with my brother Toby for many years, and has used every art and circum- vention of woman to outwit him into the same passion, yet now that she has caught him, her fever will be past its height. She has gained her point. In this case, continued my father, which Plato, I am persuaded, never thought of, Love, you see, is not so much a sentiment as a situation, into which a man enters, as my brother Toby would do into a corps, no matter whether he loves the service or no ; being once in it, he acts as if he did, and takes every step to show himself a man of prowess. The hypothesis, like the rest of my father's, was plausible enough, and my uncle Toby had but a single word to ob- ject to it, in which Trim stood ready to second him ; but my father had not drawn his conclusion. For this reason, continued my father (stating the case over again), notwith- standing all the world knows that Mrs. Wadman affects my brother Toby ; and my brother Toby contrariwise affects Mrs. Wadman, and no obstacle in nature to forbid the music striking up this very night, yet will I answer for it, that this self-same tune will not be played this twelvemonth. We have taken our measures badly, quoth my uncle Toby, looking up interro* gatively in Trim's face. I would lay my Montero-cap, said Trim. Now Trim's Montero-cap, as I once told you, was his constant wager; and having furbished it up that very night, in order to go upon the attack, it made the odds IOOK more considerable. I would lay, an' please your Honor, my Montero cap to a shilling, was it proper, continued Trim (making a bow), to offer a wager before your Honors. THE COURTSHIP OF UNCLE TOBY AND THE WIDOW WADMAN. There is nothing improper in it, said my father, 't is a mode of expression : for in saying thou would'st lay thy Montero-cap to a shilling, all thou meanest is this, that thou believest. Now, what dost thou believe? That Widow Wadman, an' please your Worship, cannot hold it out ten days. And whence, cried Slop, jeeringly, hast thou all this knowledge of woman, friend? By falling in love with a popish clergy- woman, said Trim. 'T was a Beguine, said my uncle Toby. Doctor Slop was too much in wrath to listen to the distinction ; and my father taking that very crisis to fall in helter- skelter upon the whole order of nuns and Beguines, Slop could not stand it: and my uncle Toby having some measures to take about his breeches, and Yorick about his fourth general division, in order for their several attacks next day, the com- pany broke up ; and my father being left alone, and having half an hour upon his hands betwixt that and bed-time, he called for pen, ink and paper, and wrote my uncle Toby the following letter of in- structions : MY DEAR BROTHER TOBY : What I am going to say to thee, is upon the nature of women, and of love-making to them ; and perhaps it is as well for thee, though not so well for me, that thou hast occasion for a letter of instructions upon that head, and that I am able to write it to thee. Had it been the good pleasure of Him who disposes of our lots, and thou no sufferer by the knowledge, I had been well content that thou should'st have dipped the pen this moment into the ink, instead of myself; but that not being the case, Mrs. Shandy being now close beside me, preparing for bed, I have thrown together, without order, and just as they have come into my mind, such hints and documents as I deem may be of use to thee, intending, in this, to give thee a token of my love ; not doubting, my dear Toby, of the manner it will be accepted. In the first place, with regard to all which concerns religion in the affair, though I perceive, from a glow in my cheek, that I blush as I begin to speak to thee upon the subject, as well knowing, notwithstanding thy unaffected secrecy, how few of its offices thou neglectest, yet I would remind thee of one (during the continuance of thy courtship) in a par- ticular manner, which I would not have omitted ; and that is, never to go forth upon the enterprise, whether it be in the morning or the afternoon, without first recommending thyself to the protection of Almighty God, that he may defend thee from the evil one. Shave the whole top of thy crown clean once, at least, every four or five days, but oftener if convenient ; lest, in taking off thy wig before her, through absence of mind, she should be able to discover how much has been cut away by Time : how much by Trim. 'T were better to keep ideas of baldness out of her fancy. Always carry it in thy mind, and act upon it as a sure maxim, Toby, " That women are timid ;" and 't is well they are, else there would be no dealing with them. Let not thy breeches be too tight, or hang too loose about thy thighs, like tht trunk-hose of our ancestors : A just medium prevents all conclusions. Whatever thou hast to say, be it more or less, forget not to utter it in a low soft tone of voice ; silence, and whatever ap- proaches it, weaves dreams of midnight secrecy into the brain : for this cause if thou canst help it, never throw down the tongs and poker. Avoid all kinds of pleasantry and face- tiousness in thy discourse with her, and do whatever lies in thy power, at the same time, to keep from her all books and writings which tend thereto: there are some devotional tracts, which if thou canst entice her to read over, it will be well ; but suffer her not to look into Rabelais, or Scarron, or Don Quixote : They are all books which excite laugh- ter ; and thou knowest, dear Toby, that there is no passion so serious as love. Stick a pin in the bosom of thy shirt, before thou enterest the parlor. And if thou art permitted to sit upon the same sofa with her, and she gives thee occasion to lay thy hand upon hers, be- ware of taking it : thou canst not lay thy hand on hers, out she will feel the temper of thine. Leave that and as many other things as thou canst, quite undetermined; by so doing, thou wilt have her curiosity on thy side ; and if she is not conquered by that, and thy ass continues still kick- ing, which there is great reason to suppose, thou must begin with first losing a few ounces of blood below the ears, according to the practice of the ancient Scythians, wh'o cured the most intemperate fits of the appetite by that means. Avicenna, after this, is for having the neck anointed with the syrup of helle- bore, using proper evacuations and purges ; and I believe rightly. But thou must eat little or no goat's flesh, nor red deer ; nor even foal's flesh by any means ; and carefully abstain, that is, as much as thou canst, from peacocks, cranes, coots, didappers, and water-hens. As for thy drink, I need not tell thee, it must be the infusion of Verbain and the herb Hanea, of which ^Elian relates such effects; but if thy stomach palls with it, discontinue it from time to time, taking cucumbers, melons, purslain, water-lilies, woodbine, and lettuce in the stead of them. There is nothing further for thee which occurs to me at present. Unless the breaking out of a fresh war. So wishing everything, dear Toby, for the best, I rest thy affectionate brother, WALTER SHANDY. CHAPTER XXXV. WHILST my father was writing this let- ter of instructions, my Uncle Toby and the corporal were busy in preparing every thing for the attack. As the turning of the thin scarlet breeches was laid aside (at least for the present) there is nothing which should put it off beyond the next morning ; so, accordingly it was resolved upon for eleven o'clock. Come, my dear, said my father to my mother, 't will be but like a brother and sister, if you and I take a walk down to my brother Toby's to countenance him in this attack of his. My uncle Toby and the corporal had both been accoutred some time, when my father and mother entered and, the clock striking eleven, were that moment in motion to sally forth ; but the account of this is worth more than to be wove into the fag end of a chapter. My father had no time but to put the letter of in- structions into my uncle Toby's coat pocket, and join with my mother in wish- ing his attack prosperous. I could like, said my mother, to look through the key-hole, out of curiosity. Call it by its right name, my dear, quoth my father, And look through the key -hole as long as you will. CHAPTER XXXVI. I CALL all the powers of time and chance, which severally check us in our careers in this world, to bear me witness, that I could never yet get fairly to my uncle Toby's amours, till this very moment, that my mother's curiosity, as she stated the affair, or a different impulse in her, as my father would have it, wished her to take a peep at them through the key-hole. " Call it, my dear, by its right name," quoth my father, " and look through the key-hole as long as you will." Nothing but the fermentation of that little subacid humor, which I have often spoken of, in my father's habit, could have vented such an insinuation ; he was, however, frank and generous in his nature, and at all times open to conviction ; so that he had scarce got to the last word of this ungracious retort, when his con- science smote him. My mother was then conjugally swinging with her left arm twisted under his right, in such wise, that the inside of her hand rested on the back of his ; she raised her fingers, and let them fall, it could scarce be called a tap ; or, if it was a tap, 't would have puzzled a casuist to say, whether 't was a tap of remonstrance or a tap of confession ; my father, who was all sensi- bilities from head to foot, classed it right ; Conscience redoubled her blow, he turned his face suddenly the other way, and my mother, supposing his body was about to turn with it, in order to move homewards, by a cross movement of her right leg, keeping her left as its centre, brought herself so far in front, that, as he turned his head, he met her eye : Confu- sion again ! he saw a thousand reasons to wipe out the reproach, and as many to reproach himself: a thin, blue, chill, pellucid crystal, with all its humors so at rest, the least mote or speck of desire might have been seen at the bottom of it, THE COURTSHIP OF UNCLE TOBY AND THE WIDOW WADMAN. 55 had it existed ; it did not ; and how I hap- pened to be so lewd myself, particularly a little before the vernal and autumnal equinoxes, Heaven above knows; my mother, Madam, was so at no time, either by nature, by institution, or example. A temperate current of blood ran or- derly through her veins in all months of the year, and in all critical moments both of the day and night alike ; nor did she superinduce the least heat into her humors from the manual effervescences of de- votional tracts, which, having little or no meaning in them, nature is oftentimes obliged to find one; and, as for my father's example ! 't v/as so far from being either aiding or abetting thereunto, that 't was the whole business of his life to keep all fancies of that kind out of her head; Nature had done her part to have spared him this trouble ; and, what was not a little inconsistent, my father knew it. And here am I sitting, this 12th day of August, 1766, in a purple jerkin and yellow pair of slippers, without wig or cap on, a most tragi-comical completion of his prediction "That I should neither think nor act like any other man's child, upon that very account.'' The mistake of my father was, in at- tacking my mother's motive instead of the act itself ; for, certainly, key-holes were made for other purposes ; and, consider- ing the act as an act which interfered with a true proposition, and denied a key- hole to be what it was, it became a vio- lation of nature ; and was, so far, you see, criminal. It is for this reason, an' please your Re- verences, that key-holes are the occasion of more sin and wickedness than all the other holes in this world put together : Which leads me to my uncle Toby's amours. CHAPTEB XXXVII. THOUGH the corporal had been as good as his word in putting my uncle Toby's great ramillie-wig into pipes, yet the time was too short to produce any great effects from it : it had lain many years squeezed up in the corner of his old campaign- trunk ; and as bad form? are not so easy to be got the better of, and the use of candle-ends not so well understood, it was not so pliable a business, as one would have wished. The corporal, with cheery eye and both arms extended, had fallen back perpendicular from it a score of times, to inspire it, if possible, with a better air: had Spleen given a look at it, 'twould have cost her ladyship a smile; it curled everywhere but where the corporal would have it; and where a buckle or two, in his opinion, would have done it honor, he could as soon have raised the dead. Such it was, or rather, such would it have seemed upon any other brow; but the sweet look of goodness which sat upon my uncle Toby's assimilated every thing around it so sovereignly to itself, and Nature had, moreover, wrote Gentle- man with so fair a hand in every line of his countenance, that even his tarnished gold-laced hat and huge cockade of flimsy taffety became him ; and, though not worth a button in themselves, yet the moment my uncle Toby put them on, they became serious objects, and, altogether, seemed to have been picked up by the hand of Sci- ence to set him off to advantage. Nothing in this world could have co- operated more powerfully towards this, than my uncle Toby's blue and gold, had not quantity, in some measure, been neces- sary to grace. In a period of fifteen or sixteen years since they had been made, by a total inactivity in my uncle Toby's life (for he seldom went farther than the bowling-green), his blue and gold had become so miserably too strait for him, that it was with the utmost difficulty the corporal was able to get him into them ; the taking them up at the sleeves was of no advantage: they were laced, however, down the back, and at the seams of the sides, &c., in the mode of King William's reign ; and to shorten all description, they shone so bright against the sun that morning, and had so metallic and doughty an air with them, that, had my uncle Toby thought of attacking in armor, noth- ing could have so well imposed upon his imagination. As for, the thin scarlet breeches, they had been unripped by the tailor between the legs, and left at sixes and sevens. Yes, Madam; but let us govern pur fancies. It is enough they were held im- practicable the night before ; and, as there was no alternative in my uncle Toby's wardrobe, he sallied forth in the red plush. The corporal had arrayed himself in THE COURTSHIP OF UNCLE TOBY AND THE WIDOW WADMAN. 56 poor Le Fevre's regimental coat; and with his hair tucked up under his Mon- tero-cap, which he had furbished up for the occasion, marched three paces distant from his master: a whifl'of military pride had pufled out his shirt at the wrist; and upon that, in a black leather thong clipped into a tassel beyond the knot, hung the corporal's stick. My uncle Toby carried his cane like a pipe. It looks well, at least, quoth my father to himself. CHAPTER XXXVIII. MY uncle Toby turned his head more than once behind him, to see how he was supported by the corporal ; and the cor- poral, as oft as he did it, gave a slight flourish with his stick, but not vaporingly ; and with the sweetest accent of most re- spectful encouragement, bid his Honor never fear." Now my uncle Toby did fear, and grievously too; he knew not (as my father had reproached him) so much as the right end of a woman from the wrong, and therefore, was never, altogether at his ease near any one of them, unless in sor- row or distress ; then infinite was his pity ; nor would the most courteous knight of romance have gone further, at least upon one leg, to have wiped away a tear from a woman's eye ; and yet, excepting once that he was beguiled into it by Mrs.Wad- man, he had never looked steadfastly into one ; and would often tell my father, in the simplicity of his heart, that it was al- most (if not about) as bad as talking bawdy. And suppose it is? my father would say. CHAPTER XXXIX. SHE cannot, quoth my uncle Toby, halting, when they had marched up to within twenty paces of Mrs. Wadman's door, she cannot, corporal, take it amiss. She will take it, an' please your Honor, said the corporal, just as the Jew's widow at Lisbon took it of my brother Tom. And how was that? quoth my uncle Toby, facing quite about to the corporal. Your Honor, replied the corporal, knows of Tom's misfortunes ; but this af- fair has nothing to do with them any fur- ther than this. That if Tom had not married the widow, or had it pleased God, after their marriage, that they had but put pork into their sausages, the hon- est soul had never been taken out of his warm bed, and dragged to the Inquisition ; 't is a cursed place, added the corporal, shaking his head ; when once a poor creature is in, he is in, an' please your Honor, for ever. 'T is very true, said my uncle Toby, looking gravely at Mrs. Wadman's house as he spoke. Nothing, continued the corporal, can be so sad as confinement for life, or so sweet, an' please your Honor, as liberty. Nothing, Trim, said my uncle Toby, musing. Whilst a man is free, cried the corpo- ral, giving a flourish with his stick. A thousand of my father's most subtle syllogisms could not have said more for celibacy. My uncle Toby looked earnestly to- wards his cottage and his bowling-green. The corporal had unwarily conjured up the spirit of calculation with his wand; and he had nothing to do but to conjure him down again with his story; and in this form of exorcism, most unecclesiasti- cally did the corporal do it. CHAPTER XL. As Tom's place, an' please your Honor, was easy, and the weather warm, it put him upon thinking seriously of settling himself in the world, and as it fell out about that time, that a Jew, who kept a sausage-shop in the same street, had the ill-luck to die of a strangury, and leave his widow in possession of a rousing trade, Tom thought (as every body in Lisbon was doing the best he could devise for himself) there could be no harm in offer- ing his service to carry it on ; so without any introduction to the widow, except that of buying a pound of sausages at her shop, Tom set out, counting the matter thus within himself as he walked along , That, let the worst come of it that could, he should, at least, get a pound of sau- sages for their worth ; but, if things went well, he should be set up ; inasmuch as he should get not only a pound of sau- sages, but a wife and a sausage-shop, an* please your Honor, into the bargain. THE COURTSHIP OF UNCLE TOBY AND THE WIDOW W ADMAN. Every servant in the family, from high to low, wished Tom success ; and I can fancy, an' please your Honor, I see him this moment with his white dimity waist- coat and breeches, and hat a little o' one side, passing jollily along the street, swinging his stick, with a smile and a cheerful word for everybody he met. But alas ! Tom ! thou smilest no more, cried the corporal, looking on one side of him upon the ground, as if he apostrophized him in his dungeon. Poor fellow ! said my uncle Toby, feel- ingly. He was an honest, light-hearted lad, an' please your Honor, aa ever blood warmed. Then he resembled thee, Trim, said my uncle Toby, rapidly. The corporal blushed down to his fingers' ends ; a tear of sentimental bash- fulness, another of gratitude to my uncle Toby, and a tear of sorrow for his brother's misfortunes, started into his eye, and ran sweetly down his cheek together. My uncle Toby's kindled, as one lamp does at another, and taking hold of the breast of Trim's coat (which had been that of Le Fevre's) as if to ease his lame leg, but in reality to gratify a finer feeling, he stood silent for a minute and a half; at the end of which he took his hand away, and the corporal, making a bow, went on with his story of his brother and the Jew's widow. CHAPTER XLI. WHEN Tom, 'an please your Honor, got to the shop, there was nobody in it but a poor negro girl, with a bunch of white feathers slightly tied to the end of a long cane, flapping away flies not killing them. 'T is a pretty picture ! said iny uncle Toby; she had suffered persecution, Trim, and had learnt mercy. She was good, an' please your Honor, from nature, as well as from hardships ; and there are circumstances in the story of that poor friendless slut, that would melt a heart of stone, said Trim ; and some dismal winter's evening, when your Honor is in the humor, they shall be told you, with the rest of Tom's story, for it makes a part of it. Then do not forget, Trim, said my un- rie Toby. A negro has a soul ! an' please your Honor, said the corporal (doubtiugly). I am not much versed, corporal, quoth my uncle Toby, in things of that kind ; but I suppose God would not leave him without one, any more than thee or me. It would be putting one sadly over the head of another, quoth the corporal. It would so, said my uncle Toby. Why, then, an' please your Honor, is a black wench to be used worse than a white one? I can give no reason, said my uncle Toby. Only, cried the corporal, shaking his head, because she has no one to stand up for her. 'T is that very thing, Trim, quoth my uncle Toby, which recommends her to protection, and her brethren with her; 't is the fortune of war which has put the whip into our hands, now ; where it may be hereafter, heaven knows I but be it where it will, the brave, Trim,will not use it unkindly. God forbid ! said the corporal. Amen, responded my uncle Toby, laying his hand upon his heart. The corporal returned to his story, and went on but with an embarrassment in doing it, which here and there a reader in this world will not be able to compre- hend ; for by the many sudden transitions all along, from one kind and cordial pas- sion to another, in getting thus far on his way, he had lost the sportable key of his voice, which gave sense and spirit to his tale: he attempted twice to resume it, but could not please himself; so giving a stout hem ! to rally back the retreating spirits, and aiding nature at the same time, with his left arm a-kimbo on one side, and with his right a little extended, supporting her on the other, the corporal got as near the note as he could, and in that attitude continued his story. CHAPTER XLII. As Tom, an' please your Honor, had no business at that time with the Moorish girl, he passed on into the room beyond, to talk to the Jew's widow about love, and his pound of sausages; and being, as I have told your Honor, an open, cheery- hearted lad, with his character wrote in 58 THE COURTSHIP OF UNCLE TOBY AND THE WIDOW WADMAN. his looks and carriage, he took a chair, and without much apology, but with great civility at the same time, placed it close to her at the table, and sat down. There is nothing so awkward as court- ing a woman, an' please your Honor, whilst she is making sausages. So Tom began a discourse upon them : First, gravely " As how they were made ; with what meats, herbs and spices " ; then, a little gaily, as " With what skins and if they never burst? Whether the largest were not the best ? " and so on taking care only as he went along, to season what he had to say upon sausages, rather under than over, that he might have room to act in. It was owing to the neglect of that very precaution, said my uncle Toby, laying his hand upon Trim's shoulder, that Count de la Motte lost the battle of Wynnendale: he pressed too speedily into the wood ; which if he had not done, Lisle had not fallen into our hands, nor Ghent and Bruges, which both followed her example. It was so late in the year, continued my uncle Toby, and so terrible a season came on, that if things had not fallen out as they did, our troops must have perished in the open field. Why, therefore, may not battles, an' please your Honor, as well as marriages, be made in Heaven? My uncle Toby mused. Religion inclined him to say one thing, and his high ideas of military skill tempted him to say another; so, not being able to frame a reply exactly to his mind, my uncle Toby said nothing at all, and the corporal finished his story. As Torn perceived, an' please your Honor, that he gained ground, and that all he had said upon the subject of sau- sages, was .kindly taken, he went on to help her a little in making them. First, by taking hold of the ring of the sausage, whilst she stroked the forced meat down with her hand ; then by cutting the strings into proper lengths, and holding them in his hand, whilst she took them out, one by one then by putting them across her mouth, that she might take them out as she wanted them, and so on, from little to more, till at last he adventured to tie the sausage himself, whilst she held the snout. Now a widow, an' please your Honor, always chooses a second husband as unlike the first as she can ; so the affair was more than half settled in her mind before Tom mentioned it. She made a feint, however, of defending herself by snatching up a sausage. * * * She signed the capitulation, and Tom sealed it; and there was an end of the matter. CHAPTER XLIII. ALL womankind, continued Trim (com- menting upon his story) from the highest to the lowest, an' please your Honor, love jokes ; the difficulty is to know how they choose to have them cut ; and there is no knowing that but by trying, as we do with our artillery in the field, by rais- ing or letting down till we hit the mark. I like the comparison, said my uncle Toby, better than the thing itself. Because, your Honor, quoth the cor- poral, loves glory more than pleasure. I hope, Trim, answered my uncle Toby, I love mankind more than either ; and as the knowledge of arms tends so apparently to the good and quiet of the world, and particularly that branch of it which we have practised together, in our own bowl- ing-green, has no object but to shorten the strides of Ambition, and entrench the lives and fortunes of the few from the plunderings of the many ; whenever that drum beats in our ears, I trust, corporal, we shall neither of us want so much hu- manity and fellow-feeling as to face about and march. In pronouncing this, my uncle Toby faced about and marched firmly as at the head of the company ; and the faithful corporal, shouldering his stick, and strik- ing his hand upon his coat-skirt, as he took his first step, marched close behind him down the avenue. Now what can their two noddles be about? cried my father to my mother. By all that's strange, they are besieging Mrs. Wadman, in form, and are marching round her house to mark out the lines of circumvallation ! I dare say, quoth my mother But stop, dear Sir ; for what my mother dared to say upon the occasion, and what my father did say upon it, with her replies and his rejoinders, shall be read, pe- rused, paraphrased, commented, or des- canted upon or to say it all in a word, shall be thumbed over by posterity, in a THE COURTSHIP OF UNCLE TOBY AND THE WIDOW WADMAN. chapter apart ; I say by posterity, and care not if I repeat the word again ; for what has this book done more than the Legation of Moses, or the Tale of a Tub, that it may not swim down the gutter of Time along with them ? I will not argue the matter. Time wastes too fast: every letter I trace tells me with what rapidity Life follows my pen ; the days and hours of it, more pre- cious my dear Jenny, than the rubies about thy neck, are flying over our heads like light clouds of a windy day, never to re- turn more ; everything presses on ; whilst thou art twisting that lock, see! it grows grey ; and every time I kiss thy hand to bid adieu, and every absence which fol- lows it, are preludes to that eternal separation which we are shortly to make. Heaven have mercy upon us both ! CHAPTER XLIV. Now for what the world thinks of that ejaculation, I would not give a groat. CHAPTER XLV. MY mother had gone with her left arm twisted in my father's right, till they had got to the fatal angle of the old garden- wall, where Doctor Slop was overthrown by Obadiah on the coach-horse. As this was directly opposite to the front of Mrs. Wadman's house, when my father came to it, he gave a look across ; and seeing my uncle Toby and the corporal within ten paces of the door, he turned about. " Let us just stop a moment," quoth my father, " and see with what ceremonies my brother Toby and his man Trim make their first entry ; it will not detain us," added my father, " a single minute." No matter if it be ten minutes, quoth my mother. It will not detain us half a one, said my father. The corporal was just then setting in with the story of his brother Tom and the Jew's widow : the story went on, and on ; it had episodes in it ; it came back and went on, and went on again, there was no end of it : the reader found it very long. G * help my father ! he pshawed fifty times at every new attitude, and gave the corporal's stick, with all its flourishings and danglings, to as many devils as chose to accept of them. When issues of events like these my father is waiting for, are hanging in the scales of fate, the mind has the advantage of changing the principle of expectation three times, without which it would not have power to see it out. Curiosity governs thejirst moment ; and the second moment is all economy to jus- tify the expense of the first ; and for the third, fourth, fifth, and six moments, and so on to the day of judgment, 'tis a point of Honor. I need not be told that the ethic writers have assigned this all to Patience ; but that virtue, methinks, has extent of do- minion sufficient of her own, and enough to do in it, without invading the few dis- mantled castles which Honor has left him upon the earth. My father stood it out as well as he could with these three auxiliaries^ to the end of Trim's story ; and from thence to the end of my uncle Toby's panegyric upon arms, in the chapter following it ; when seeing that, instead of marching up to Mrs. Wadman's door, they both faced about and marched down the avenue diametrically opposite to his expectation, he broke out at once with that little sub- acid sourness of humor, which, in certain situations, distinguished his character from that of all other men. CHAPTER XLVI. " Now what can their two noddles be about? '' cried my father, &c. . . . I dare say, said my mother, they are making fortifications. Not on Mrs. Wadman's premises ! cried my father, stepping back. I suppose not, quoth my mother. I wish, said my father, raising his voice, the whole science of fortification at the devil, with all its trumpery of saps, mines, blinds, gabions, faussebrays, and cuvettes. They are foolish things, said my mother. Now she had a way, which, by the by, I would this moment give away my pur- ple-jerkin, and my yellow slippers into the bargain, if some of your Reverenct 60 THE COURTSHIP OF UNCLE TOBY AND THE WIDOW WADMAN. would imitate, and that was, never to re- fuse her assent and consent to any prop- osition my father laid before her, merely because she did not understand it, or had no ideas of the principal word or term of art upon which the tenet or proposition rolled. She contented herself with doing all that her godfathers and godmothers promised for her, but no more ; and so would go on using a hard word for twenty years together, and replying to it too, if it was a verb, in all its moods and tenses, without giving herself any trouble to in- quire about it. This was an eternal source of misery to my father, and broke the neck, at the first setting out, of more good dialogues be- tween them, than could have done the most petulant contradiction ; the few that survived were the better for the cuvettes. "They are foolish things," said my mother. Particularly the cuvettes, replied my father. It was enough ; he tasted the sweet of triumph, and went on. Not that they are, properly speaking, Mrs. Wadman's premises, said my father, partly correcting himself, because she is but a tenant for life. That makes a great difference, said my mother. In a fool's head, replied my father. Unless she should happen to have a child, said my mother. But she must persuade my brother Toby first to get her one. To be sure, Mr. Shandy, quoth my mother. Though if it comes to persuasion, said my father, Lord have mercy upon them ! Amen, said my mother, piano. Amen, cried my father, fortissimo. Amen, said my mother again, but with such a sighing cadence of personal pity at the end of it, as discomfited every fibre about my father ; he instantly took out his almanac ; but before he could untie it, Yorick's congregation coming out of church, became a full answer to one half of his business with it, and my mother telling him it was a sacrament day, left him as little in doubt, as to the other part. He put his almanac into his pocket. The First Lord of the Treasury, think- ing of ways and means, could not have returned home with a more embarrassed look. CHAPTER XLVII. UPON looking back from the end of the last chapter, and surveying the texture of what has been wrote, it is necessary, that upon this page and the five following, a good quantity of heterogeneous matter be inserted, to keep that just balance betwixt wisdom and folly, without which, a book would net hold together a single year ; nor is it a poor creeping digression (which, but for the name of, a man might continue as well going on in the King's highway) which will do the business. No, if it is to be a digression, it must be a good frisky one, and upon a frisky subject too, where neither the horse nor his rider are to be caught but by rebound. The only difficulty is, raising powers suitable to the nature of the service : Fancy is capricious ; Wit must not be searched for, and Pleasantry (good-natur- ed slut as she is) will not come in at a call, was an empire to be laid at her feet. The best way for a man is, to say his prayers. Only, if it puts him in mind of his in- firmities and defects, as well ghostly as bodily, for that purpose, he will find him- self rather worse after he has said them than before ; for other purposes better. For my own part, there is not a way, either moral or mechanical, under hea- ven, that I could think of, which I have not taken with myself in this case ; some- times by addressing myself directly to the soul herself, and arguing the point over and over again with her, upon the extent of her own faculties. I never could make them an inch the wider. Then by changing my system, and try- ing what could be made of it upon the body, by temperance, soberness, and chastity. "These are good, quoth I, in themselves ; they are good, absolutely ; they are good, relatively ; they are good for health ; they are good for happiness in this world ; they are good for happi- ness in the next. In short, they are good for every thing but the thing wanted ; and there they are good for nothing, but to leave the soul just as Heaven made it. Aa for the theo- THE COURTSHIP OF UNCLE TOBY AND THE WIDOW WADMAN. logical virtues of Faith and Hope, they give it courage ; but then, that snivelling virtue of Meekness (as my father would always call it) takes it quite away again, so you are exactly where you started. Now, in all common and ordinary cases, there is nothing which I have found to answer so well as this. Certainly, if there is any dependence upon Logic, and that I am not blinded by self-love, there must be something of true genius about me, merely upon this symp- tom of it, That I do not know what Envy is : for never do I hit upon any invention or device which tendeth to the further- ance of good writing, but I instantly make it public ; willing that all mankind should write as well as myself: Which they certainly will, when they think as little. CHAPTER XLVIII. Now, in ordinary cases, that is, when I am only stupid, and the thoughts rise heavily and pass gummous through my pen Or that I am got, I know not how, into a cold unmetaphorical vein of infamous writing, and cannot take a plumb-lift out of it for my soul ; so must be obliged to go on writing like a Dutch commentator to the end of the chapter, unless some- thing be done I never stand conferring with pen and ink one moment, for if a pinch of snuff, or a stride or two across the room, will not do the business for me, I take a razor at once ; and having tried the edge of it upon the palm of my hand, without further ceremony, except that of first lathering my beard, I shave it off; taking care only, if I do leave a hair, that it be not a grey one; this done, I change my shirt, put on a better coat, send for my last wig, put my topaz-ring upon my finger ; and, in a word, dress myself from one end to the other of me, after my best fashion. Now the Devil must be in it, if this does not do : for, consider, Sir, as every man chooses to be present at the shaving of his own beard (though there is no rule without an exception), and unavoidably sits over-against himself the whole time it is doing, in case he has a hand in it, the situation, like all others, had notions of her own to put into the brain. I maintain it, the conceits of a rough- bearded man are seven years more terse and juvenile for one single operation, and if they did not run a risk of being quite shaved away, might be carried up, by continual shavings, to the highest pitch of sublimity. How Homer could write with so long a beard, I don't know ; and as it makes against my hypothesis, I as little care : but let us return to the Toilet. Ludovicus Sorbonensis makes this en- tirely an affair of the body (ffwrcp/w? rpaf*r) as he calls it, but he is deceived : the soul and body are joint-sharers in every thing they get : a man cannot dress, but his ideas get clothed at the same time : and if he dresses like a gentleman, every one of them stands presented to his imagina- tion, genteelized along with him ; so that he has nothing to do but take his pen and write like himself. For this cause, when your Honors and Reverences would know whether I write clean, and fit to be read, you will be able to judge full as well by looking into my laundress's bill, as my book: there was one single month, in which I can make it appear, that I dirtied one-and-thirty shirts with clean writing ; and after all, was more abused, cursed, criticised, and confounded, and had more mystic heads shaken at me, for what I had wrote in that one month, than in all the other months of that year put together. But their Honors and Reverences had not seen my bills. CHAPTER XLIX. As I never had any intention of begin- ning the Digression I am making all this preparation for, till I came to the 50th chapter, I have this chapter to put to whatever use I think proper. I have twenty this moment ready for it. I could write my chapter of Button-holes in it. Or my chapter of Pishes, which should follow them Or my chapter of Knots, in case their Reverences have done with them: they might lead me into mischief. The safest way is, to follow the track of the learned, and raise objections against what I have been writing, though I declare beforehand^ 62 THE COURTSHIP OF UNCLE TOBY AND THE WIDOW WADMAN. I know no more than my heels how to an- swer them. And first, it may be said ; there is a pelting kind of T/iersitical satire, as black as the very ink 'tis wrote with (and by the bye, whoever says so, is indebted to the Muster-master General of the Grecian army, for suffering the name of so ugly and foul-mouthed a man as Thersites to continue upon his roll, for it has furnished him with an epithet) in these productions, he will urge all the personal washings and scrubbings upon earth do a sinking genius no sort of good, but just the contrary, in- asmuch asthe dirtier the fellow is, the bet- ter generally he succeeds in it. To this I have no other answer, at least ready, but that the Archbishop of Bene- vento wrote his nasty romance of the Galatea, as all the world knows, in a purple coat, waist-coat, and purple pair of breeches ; and that the penance set him of writing a commentary upon the book of the Revelations, as severe as it was looked upon by one part of the world, was far from being deemed so by the other, upon the single account of that Investment. Another objection to all this remedy, is its want of universality ; forasmuch as the shaving part of it, upon which so much stress is laid, by an unalterable law of nature excludes one half of the species entirely from its use, all I can say, is, that female writers, whether of England, or of France, must e'en go without it. As for the Spanish ladies, I am in no sort of distress. CHAPTER L. THE fiftieth chapter has come at last and brings nothing with it but a sad signa- ture of " How our pleasures slip from under us in this world ! '' For in talking of my Digression, I de- clare before Heaven, I have made it! What a strange creature is mortal man ! said she. 'T is very true, said I ; but 't were better to get all these things out of our heads, and return to my uncle Toby. CHAPTER LI. WHEN my uncle Toby and the corpo- ral had marched down to the bottom of the avenue, they recollected their business lay the other way ; so they faced about, and marched straight up to Mrs. Wad- man's door. I warrant your Honor, said the corpo- ral, touching his Montero-cap with his hand as he passed him, in order to give a knock at the door. My uncle Toby, con- trary to his invariable way of treating his faithful servant, said nothing good or bad : the truth was, he had not altogether marshalled his ideas : he wished for another conference, and, as the corporal was mounting up the three steps before the door, he hemmed twice ; a portion of my uncle Toby's most modest spirits fled, at each expulsion, towards the corporal ; he stood with the rapper of the door sus- pended for a full minute in his hand, he scarce knew why. Bridget stood perdue within, with her finger and her thumb upon the latch, benumbed with expecta- tion ; and Mrs. Wadman, with an eye ready to be deflowered again, sat breath- less behind the window-curtain of her bed-chamber, watching their approach. Trim I said my uncle Toby ; but, as he articulated the word, the minute expired, and Trim let fall the rapper. My uncle Toby, perceiving that all hopes of a conference were knocked on the head by it, whistled Lillibullero. CHAPTER LII. As Mrs. Bridget's "finger and thumb were upon the latch, the captain did not knock as often as perchance your Honor's tailor. I might have taken my example something nearer home ; for I owe mine some five-and-twenty pounds at least, and wonder at the man's patience. But this is nothing at all to the world : only 't is a cursed thing to be in debt ; and there seems to be a fatality in the ex- chequers of some poor princes, particu- larly those of our house, which no econo- my can bind down in irons. For my own part, I'm persuaded there is not any one prince, prelate, pope, or potentate, great or small, upon earth, more desirous in his heart of keeping straight with the world than I am, or who takes more likely means for it. I never give above half a guinea nor walk with boots, nor cheapen THE COURTSHIP OF UNCLE TOBY AND THE WIDOW WADMAN. toothpicks, nor lay out a shilling upon a band-box, the year round : and for the six months I'm in the country, I'm upon BO small a scale, that with all the good temper in the world, I outdo Rousseau a bar-length ! for I keep neither man nor boy, nor horse, nor cow, nor dog, nor cat, nor anything that can eat or drink, ex- cept a thin poor piece of a vestal (to keep my fire in) and who has generally as bad an appetite as myself: but, if you think this makes a philosopher of me, I would not, my good people, give a rush for your judgments. True philosophy ; but there is no treat- ing the subject whilst my uncle is whist- ling Lillibullero. Let us go into the house. CHAPTER LIII. CHAPTER LIV. CHAPTER LV. * * * * You shall see the very place, Madam, said my uncle Toby. Mrs. Wadman blushed, looked towards the door, turned pale, blushed slightly again, recovered her natural color, blushed worse than ever ; which, for the sake of the unlearned reader, I translate thus : " L d t I cannot look at it I What would the world say if Hooked atitl I should drop down if I looked at it I I wish I could look at it. There can be no sin in looking at it. I will look at it." Whilst all thig was running through Mrs. Wadman's imagination my uncle Toby had risen from the sofa, and got to the other side of the parlor-door, to give Trim an order about it in the passage #***#*#* * * * * I believe it is in the garret, said my uncle Toby. I saw it there, an' please your Honor, this morning, answered Trim. Then prithee step directly for it, Trim, said my uncle Toby, and bring it into the parlor. The corporal did not approve of the orders ; but most cheerfully obeyed them. The first was not an act of hia will ; the second was; so he put on his Montero- cap, and went as fast as his lame knee would let him. My uncle Toby returned into the parlor, and sat himself down again upon the sofa. You shall lay your finger upon the place, said my uncle Toby. I will not touch it, however, quoth Mrs. Wadman to herself. This requires a second translation : it shows what little knowledge is got by mere words ; we must go up to the first springs. Now, in order to clear up the mist which hangs upon these three pages, I must en- deavor to be as clear as possible myself. Rub your hands thrice across your fore- heads, blow your noses, cleanse your emunctories, sneeze, my good people; God bless you. Now give me all the help you can. CHAPTER LVI. As there are fifty different ends (count- ing all ends in, as well civil as religious) for which a woman takes a husband, she first sets about and carefully weighs, then separates and distinguishes, in her mind, which of all that number of ends is hers ; then, by discourse, inquiry, argumentation and inference, she investigates and finds out whether she has got hold of the right one ; and, if she has, then, by pulling it gently this way and that way, she further forms a judgment, whether it will not break in the drawing. The imagery under which Slawkenber- gius impresses this upon his reader's fancy, in the beginning of his third De- cade, is so ludicrous, that the honor I bear the sex will not suffer me to quote it, otherwise it is not destitute of humor. " She first, saith Slawkenbergius, stops the ass ; and holding his halter in her left hand (lest he should get away) she thrusts her right hand into the very bottom of his pannier, to search for it. For what ? You'll not know the sooner, 64 THE COURTSHIP OF UNCLE TOBY AND THE WIDOW WADMAN. quoth Slawkenbergius, for interrupting me. " I have nothing, good lady, but empty bottles," says the ass. "I am loaded with tripes," says the second. And thou art little better, quoth she to the third; for nothing is there in thy panniers but trunk-hose and pantofles; and so to the fourth and fifth, going on, one by one, through the whole string, till coming to the ass which carries it, she turns the pannier upside-down, looks at it, considers it, samples it, measures it, stretches it, wets it, dries it, then takes her teeth to the warp and weft of it. Of what? for the love of Christ ! I am determined, answered Slawken- bergius, that all the powers upon earth shall never wring that secret from my breast. CHAPTER LVII. WE live in a world beset on all sides with mysteries and riddles, and so 'tis no matter; else it seems strange, that Nature, who makes every thing so well to answer its destination, and seldom or never errs, unless for pastime, in giving such forms and aptitudes, to whatever passes through her hands, that, whether she designs for the plow, the caravan, the cart, or what- ever other creature she models, be it but an ass's foal, you are sure to have the thing you wanted ; and yet, at the same time, should so eternally bungle it as she does, in making so simple a thing as a married man. Whether it is in the choice of the clay, or that it is frequently spoiled in the bak- ing (by an excess of which a husband may turn out too crusty, you know, on one hand, or not enough so, through de- fect of heat, on the other) ; or whether this great artificer is not so attentive to the little Platonic exigencies of that part of the species, for whose use she is fabri- cating this ; or that her Ladyship some- times scarce knows what sort of a husband will do, I know not : we will discourse about it after supper. It is enough, that neither the observa- tion itself, nor the reasoning upon it, are at all to the purpose but rather against it ; since, with regard to my uncle Toby's fitness for the marriage state, nothing was ever better ; she had formed him of the best and kindliest clay, and tempered it with her own milk, and breathed into it the sweetest spirit ; she made him all gentle, generous, and humane ; she had filled his hea.rt with trust and confidence, and disposed every passage which led to it for the communication of the tenderest offices ; she had, moreover, considered the other causes for which matrimony was ordained And, accordingly, The Donation was not defeated by my uncle Toby's wound. Now, this last article was somewhat apocryphal ; and the Devil, who is the great disturber of our faiths in this world, had raised scruples in Mrs. Wadman's brain about it ; and like a true Devil as he was, had done his own work at the same time, by turning my uncle Toby's virtue thereupon into nothing but empty bottles, tripes, trunk-hose and pantofles. CHAPTER LVIII. MRS. BRIDGET had pawned all the little stock of honor a poor chambermaid was worth in the world, that she would get to the bottom of the affair in ten days ; and it was built upon one of the most concessible postulata in nature ; namely, that, whilst my uncle Toby was making love to her mistress, the corporal could find nothing better to do than to make love to her ; " And Til let him as much as he will, 1 ' said Bridget, "to get it out of him." Friendship has two garments, an outer and an under one. Bridget was serving her mistress's interests in the one, and doing the thing which most pleased her- self in the other ; so had as many stakes depending upon my uncle Toby's wound as the Devil himself. Mrs. Wadman had but one, and as it possibly might be her last (without discouraging Mrs. Bridget, or discrediting her talents) was determin- ed to play her cards herself. She wanted not encouragement ; a child might have looked into his hand ; there was such a plainness and simplicity in his THE COURTSHIP OF UNCLE TOBY AND THE WIDOW W ADMAN. 65 playing out what trumpa lie had, with such an unmistrusting ignorance of the ten-ace, and so defenceless did he sit upon the earue sofa with Widow Wadman, that a generous heart would have wept to have won the game of him. Let us drop the metaphor. CHAPTER LIX. AND the story, too, if you please ; for though I have all along been hastening towards this part of it, with so much earn- est desire, as well knowing it to be the choicest morsel of what I had to offer to the world, yet now that I am got to it, any one is welcome to take my pen and go on with the story for me that will ; I see the difficulties of the descriptions I am going to give, and feel my want of powers. It is one comfort at least to me, that I lost some fourscore ounces of blood this week in a most uncritical fever which attacked me at the beginning of this chapter : so that I have still some hopes remaining it may be more in the serous or globular parts of the blood, than in the subtle aura of the brain : be it which it will, an Invocation can do no hurt ; and I leave the affair entirely to the invoked, to inspire or to inject me according as he sees good. THE INVOCATION. Gentle Spirit of sweetest humor, who erst did sit upon the easy pen of my be- loved Cervantes! Thou who glidedst daily through his lattice, and turnedst the twilight of his prison into noon-day brightness by thy presence, tingedst his little urn of water with heaven-sent nectar, and, all the time he wrote of Sancho and his master, didst cast thy mystic mantle o'er his withered stump, 1 and wide -ex- tended it to all the evils of his life. Turn in hither, I beseech thee ! behold these breeches ! they are all I have in the world ; that piteous rent was given them at Lyons. My shirts I see what a deadly schism has happened amongst them ; for the laps are in Lombardy, and the rest of them here. I never had but six, and a cunning 1 He lost his hand at the battle of Lepanto. VOL. II. W. H. gipsy of a laundress at Milan cut me off the /ore-laps of five. To do her justice, she did it with some consideration, for I was returning out of Italy. And yet, notwithstanding all this, and a pistol tinder-box, which was, moreover, filched from me at Sienna, and twice that I paid five Pauls for two hard eggs, once at Raddicofiui, and a second time at Capua, I do not think a journey through France and Italy, provided a man keeps his temper all the way, so bad a thing as some people would make you believe; there must be ups and downs, or how the deuce should we get into valleys where Nature spreads so many tables of enter- tainment? 'T is nonsense to imagine they will lend you their voitures to be shaken to pieces for nothing ; and, unless you pay twelve sous for greasing your wheels, how should the poor peasant get butter to his bread ? We really expect too much, and, for the livre or two above par for your supper and bed, at the most they are but one shilling and nine-pence halfpenny, who would embroil their philosophy for it ? for Heaven's and for your own sake, pay it, pay it with both hands open, rather than leave Disappointment sitting droop- ing upon the eyes of your fair hostess and her damsels in the gateway, at your de- parture; and besides, my dear Sir, you get a sisterly kiss of each of them, worth a pound : at least I did. For my uncle Toby's amours running all the way in my head, they had the same effect upon me as if they had been my own. I was in the most perfect state of bounty and good-will, and felt the kind- liest harmony vibrating within me ; with every oscillation of the chaise alike ; so that, whether the roads were rough or smooth, it made no difference; every- thing I saw, or had to do with, touched upon some secret spring, either of senti- ment or rapture. They were the sweetest notes I ever heard ; and I instantly let down the fore- glass to hear them more distinctly. 'Tia Maria, said the postillion, observing I was listening. Poor Maria, continued he (leaning his body on one side to let me see her, for he was in a line betwixt us), is sitting upon a bank, playing her ves- pers upon her pipe, with her little goat beside her. The young fellow uttered this with an accent and a look so perfectly in tune to THE COURTSHIP OF UNCLE TOBY AND THE WIDOW WADMAN. A feeling heart, th.it I instantly made a vow I would give him a four-and-twenty sous piece when I got to Moulins. And who is poor Maria ? said I. The love and pity of all the villages around us, said the postillion : it is but three years ago that the sun did not shine upon so fair, so quick-witted, and amiable a maid ; and better fate did Maria deserve than to have her bans forbid by the in- trigues of the curate of the parish who published them. He was going on, when Maria, who had made a short pause, put the pipe to her mouth and began the air again ; they were the same notes, yet were ten times sweeter. It is the evening service to the Virgin, said the young man ; but who has taught her to play it, or how she came by her pipe, no one knows ; we think that Heaven has assisted her in both ; for, ever since she has been unsettled in her mind, it seems her only consolation, she has never once had the pipe out of her hand, but plays that service upon it almost day and night. The postillion delivered this with so much discretion and natural eloquence, that I could not help deciphering some- thing in his face above his condition, and should have sifted out his history, had not poor Maria's taken such full posession of me. We had got up by this time almost to the bank where Maria was sitting; she was in a thin white jacket, with her hair, all but two tresses, drawn up into a silk net, with a few olive leaves twisted a little fantastically on one side ; she was beau- tiful ; and, if ever I felt the full force of an honest heart-ache, it was the moment I saw her. God help her I poor damsel ! above a hundred masses, said the postillion, have been said, in the several parish -churches and convents around, for her, but without effect ; we have still hopes, as she is sen- sible for short intervals, that the Virgin at last will restore her to herself ; but her parents, who know her best, are hopeless upon that score, and think her senses are lost for ever. As the postillion spoke this, Maria made a cadence so melancholy, so tender and querulous, that I sprung out of the chaise to help her, and found myself sit- ting betwixt her and her goat before I relapsed from my enthusiasm. Maria looked wistfully for some time at me, and then at her goat, and then at me, and then at her goat again, and so on, alternately. Well, Maria, said I softly, what resem- blance do you find ? I do entreat the candid reader to believe me, that it was from the humblest convic- tion of what a beast man is, that I asked the question ; and that I would not have let fall an unseasonable pleasantry in the venerable presence of Misery, to be en- titled to all the wit that ever Rabelais scattered, and yet I own my heart smote me, and that I so smarted at the very idea of it, that I swore I would set up for Wisdom, and utter grave sentences the rest of my days ; and never, never attempt again to commit mirth with man, woman, or child, the longest day I had to live. As for writing nonsense to them, I be- lieve there was a reserve ; but that I leave to the world. Adieu, Maria ! adieu, poor hapless damsel ! some time but not now, I may hear thy sorrows from thy own lips, but I was deceived; for that moment she took her pipe and told me such a tale of woe with it, that I rose up, and with broken and irregular steps walked softly to my chaise. What an excellent inn at Moulins ! CHAPTER LX. WHEN we have got to the end of this chapter (but not before) we must all turn back to the two blank chapters ; on the account of which my honor has lain bleeding this half hour, I stop it, by pulling off one of my yellow slippers, and throwing it, with all my violence, to the opposite side of my room, with a declara- tion at the end of it That whatever resemblance it may bear to half the chapters which are written in the world, or, for aught I know, may be now writing in it, that it was as casual as the foam of Zeuxis his horse : besides, I look upon a chapter which has only no- thing in it, with respect ; and considering what worse things there are in the world, that it is no way a proper subject for satire. Why then was it left so? And here, without staying for my reply, shall I be THE COURTSHIP OF UNCLE TOBY AND THE WIDOW WADMAN. 67 called as many blockheads, numsculls, doddypoles, dunderheads, ninnyhammers, goosecaps, joltheads, nincompoops, and jackasses, and other unsavory appella- tions as ever the cake-bakers of Lerne cast in the teeth of King Gargantua's shepherds ; and I'll let them do it, as Bridget said, as much as they please : for how Avas it possible that they should fore- see the necessity I was under of writing the 60th chapter of my book before the 53rd? &c. So I don't take it amiss. All I wish is, That it may be a lesson to the world, " to kt people " tell their stories their own way. 1 ' The Fifty-third Chapter. As Mrs. Bridget opened the door before the corporal had well given the rap, the interval betwixt that and my uncle Toby's introduction into the parlor was so short, that Mrs. Wadman had but just time to get from behind the curtain, lay a Bible upon the table, and advance a step or two towards the door to receive him. My uncle Toby saluted Mrs. Wadman, after the manner in which women were saluted by men in the year of our Lord God one thousand seven hundred and thirteen; then facing about, he marched up abreast with her to the sofa, and in three plain words, though not before he was sat down, nor after he was sat down, but as he was sitting down, told her, " he was in love;" so that my uncle Toby strained himself more in the declaration than he needed. Mrs. Wadman naturally looked down upon a slit she had been darning up in her apron, in expectation every moment that my uncle Toby would go on ; but having no talents for amplification, and love, moreover, of all others, being a sub- ject of which he was the least a master ; when he had told Mrs. Wadman once that he loved her, he let it alone, and left the matter to work after its own way. My father was always in raptures with this system of my uncle Toby's, as he falsely called it, and would often say, That could his brother Toby to his pro- cess have added but a pipe of Tobacco, he had wherewithal to have found his way, if there was faith in a Spanish proverb, towards the hearts of half the women upon the globe. My uncle Toby never understood what my father meant; nor will I presume to extract more from it than a condemnation of an error which the bulk of the world lie under : but the French, every one of 'em to a man, who believe in it almost as much as the real presence, " That talking of love is making it." I would as soon set about making a black-pudding by the same receipt. Let us go on : Mrs. Wadman sat in the expectation my uncle Toby would do so, to almost the first pulsation of that min- ute, wherein silence on one side or the other generally becomes indecent: so edging herself a little more towards him, and raising up her eyes sub-blushing, as she did it, she took up the gauntlet, or the discourse (if you like it better), and com- muned with my uncle Toby thus : The cares and disquietudes of the mar- riage-state, quoth Mrs. Wadman, are very great. I suppose so, said my uncle Toby. And therefore when a person, continued Mrs. Wadman, is so much at ease as you are, so happy, Captain Shandy, in your- self, your friends, and your amusements, I wonder what reasons can incline you to the state. They are written, quoth my uncle Toby, in the Common Prayer Book. Thus far my uncle Toby went on warily, and kept within his depth, leaving Mrs. Wadman to sail upon the gulf as she pleased. As for children, said Mrs. Wadman, though a principal end, perhaps of the institution, and the natural wish, I sup- pose, of every parent, yet do not we all find, they are certain sorrows, and very uncer- tain comforts? and what is there, dear Sir, to pay for the heart-aches ! what com- pensation for the many tender and dis- quieting apprehensions of a suffering and defenceless mother, who brings them into life ? I declare, said my uncle Toby, smit with pity, I know of none ; unless it be the pleasure which it has pleased God A fiddle-stick I quoth she. Chapter the Fifty-fourth. Now there are such an infinitude of notes, tunes, cants, chants, airs, looks and THE COURTSHIP OF UNCLE TOBY AND THE WIDOW WADMAN. accents with which the word fiddlestick may be pronounced in all such cases as this, every one of 'em impressing a sense and meaning as different from the other as dirt from cleanliness, that casuists (for it is an affair of conscience upon that score) reckon up no less than fourteen thousand in which you may do either right or wrong. Mrs. Wadman hit upon the fiddlestick which summoned up all my uncle Toby's modest blood into his cheeks ; so feeling within himself that he had somehow or other got beyond his depth, he stopped short ; and without entering further either into the pains or pleasures of matrimony, he laid his hand upon his heart, and made an offer to take them as they were, and share them along with her. When my uncle Toby had said this, he did not care to say it again ; so casting his eye upon the Bible, which Mrs. Wad- man had laid upon the table, he took it up ; and popping, dear soul ! upon a pas- sage in it, of all other the most interesting to him, which was the siege of Jericho, he sat himself to read it over, leaving his Sroposal of marriage, as he had done his eclaration of love, to work with her after its own way. Now it wrought neither as an astringent nor a loosener ; nor like opium, nor bark, mercury, nor buckthorn nor any one drug which Nature had be- stowed upon the world; in short, it worked not at all in her : and the cause of that was, that there was something work- ing there before. Babbler that I am I I have anticipated what it was a dozen times ; but there is fire still in the sub- ject. Allans I CHAPTER, LXI. IT is natural for a perfect stranger who is going from London to Edinburgh, to inquire, before he sets out, how many miles to York ? which is about the half- way : nor does any body wonder, if he goes on and asks about the corporation, &c. It was as just natural for Mrs. Wadman, whose first husband was all his time afflicted with a sciatica, to wish to know how far from the hip to the groin ; and how far she was likely to suffer more or less in her feelings, in the one case than in the other. She had accordingly read Drake's Ana- tomy from one end to the other. She had peeped into Wharton upon the Brain, and borrowed Graaf 1 upon the Bones and Muscles ; but could make nothing of it. She had reasoned likewise from her own powers, laid down theorems, drawn consequences, and come to no conclusion. To clear up all, she had twice asked Doctor Slop, "If poor Captain Shandy was ever likely to recover of his wound?" He is recovered, Doctor Slop would say., What, quite? Quite, madam. But what do you mean by a recovery ? Mrs. Wadman would say. Doctor Slop was the worst man alive at definitions and so Mrs. Wadman could get no knowledge. In short, there was no way to extract it, but from my uncle Toby himself. There is an accent of humanity in an inquiry of this kind, which lulls Suspicion to rest : and I am half persuaded the ser- pent got pretty near it in his discourse with Eve : for the propensity in the sex to be deceived could not be so great, that she could have boldness to hold chat with the Devil without it. But there is an accent of humanity ; how shall I describe it? 'tis an accent which covers the part with a garment, and gives the inquirer a right to be as particular with it as your body-surgeon. Was it without a remission?' 1 ' Was it more tolerable in bed ? " ' Could he lie on both sides alike with it?" Was he able to mount a horse? 'Was motion bad for it?" et ccetera, were so tenderly spoke to, and so directed towards my uncle Toby's heart, that every item of them sunk ten times deeper into it than the evils themselves ; but when Mrs. Wadman went round about by Na- mur to get at my uncle Toby's groin ; and engaged him to attack the point of the advanced counterscarp, and pile mgle with the Dutch, to take the counterguard of St. Roch sword-in-hand, and then, with tender notes playing upon his ear, led him, all bleeding, by the hand out of the trench, wiping her eye as he was carried to his tent, Heaven ! Earth ! Sea I all was lifted up, the springs of nature rose above 1 This mnit l>e a mistake in Mr. Shandy ; for Gnat wrote upon the pancreatic juice and the part* of genera- tion. THE COURTSHIP OF UNCLE TOBY AND THE WIDOW WADMAN. fill their levels, an angel of mercy sat beside him on the sofa, his heart glowed with fire ; and had he been worth a thousand, he had lost every heart of them to Mrs. Wadman. And whereabouts, dear Sir, quoth Mrs. Wadman, a little categorically, did you receive this sad blow? In asking this question, Mrs. Wadman gave a slight glance towards the waistband of my un- cle Toby's red plush breeches, expecting naturally, as the shortest reply to it, that my uncle Toby would lay his fore-finger upon the place. It fell out otherwise, for my uncle Toby having got his wound before the gate or St. Nicholas, in one of the traverses of the trench opposite to the salient angle of the demi-bastion of St. Roch, he could at, any time stick a pin upon the identical spot of ground where he was standing when the stone struck him. This struck instantly upon my un- cle Toby's sensorium ; and with it, struck his large map of the town and citadel of Namur, and its environs, which he had purchased and pasted down upon a board, by the corporal's aid, through his long illness : it had lain, with other military lumber, in the garret ever since ; and ac- cordingly the corporal was detached to the garret to fetch it. My uncle Toby measured off thirty toises, with Mrs. Wadman's scissors, from the returning angle before the gate of St. Nicholas; and with such a virgin mod- esty laid her finger upon the place, that the Goddess of Decency, if then in being if not, 'twas her shade shook her head, and with a finger wavering .across her eyes, forbade her to explain the mistake. Unhappy Mrs. Wadman ! For nothing can make this chapter go off with spirit but an apostrophe to thee : but my heart tells me, that in such a cri- sis an apostrophe is but an insult in dis- guise ; and ere I would offer one to a woman in distress, let the chapter go to the Devil; provided any damned critic in keeping will be but at the trouble to take it with him. CHAPTER LXII. MY uncle Toby's map is carried down into the kitchen. CHAPTER LXIII. AND here is the Maes, and this is thi Sambre, said the corporal, pointing with his right hand extended a little towards the map, and his left upon Mrs. Bridget's shoulder, but not the shoulder next him ; and this, said he, is the town of Namur, and this the citadel, and there lay the French, and here lay his honor and my- se'lf ; and in this cursed trench, Mrs. Brid- get, quoth the corporal, taking her by the hand, did he receive the wound which crushed him so miserably here. In pro- nouncing which, he slightly pressed the back of her hand towards the part he felt for, and let it fall. We thought, Mr. Trim, it had been more in the middle, said Mrs. Bridget. That would have undone us for ever, said the corporal. And left my poor mistress undone too, said Bridget. The corporal made no reply to the repartee, but by giving Mrs. Bridget a kiss. Come, come, said Bridget, holding the palm of her left hand parallel to the piano of the horizon, and sliding the fingers of the other over it, in a way which could not have been done had there been the least wart or protuberance 'tis every syllable of it false, cried the corporal, before she had half finished the sentence. I know it to be a fact, said Bridget, from creditable witnesses. Upon my honor, said the corporal, lay- ing his "hand upon his heart, and blush- ing as he spoke, with honest resentment, 't is a story, Mrs. Bridget, as false as hell. Not, said Bridget, interrupting him, that either I or my mistress care a half-penny about it, whether it is so or no ; only that when one is married, one would choose to have such a thing by one at least It was somewhat unfortunate for Mrs. Bridget, that she had begun the attack with her manual exercise ; for the corpo- ral instantly * * * * * * * * # * * CHAPTER LXIV. IT was like the momentary contest In the moist eyelids of 'an April morning, " Whether Bridget should laugh or cry." She snatched up a roliing-pin 't was ten to one she had laughed. ro THE COURTSHIP OF UNCLE TOBY AND THE WIDOW WADMAN. She laid it down she cried : and had one single tear of 'em but tasted of bit- terness, full sorrowful would the corpo- ral's heart have been that he had used the argument ; but the corporal under- stood the sex, a quart major to a terce at least, better than my uncle Toby, and ac- cordingly he assailed Mrs. Bridget after this manner : I know, Mrs. Bridget, said the corporal, giving her a most respectful kiss, that thou art good and modest by nature; and art withal so generous a girl in thy- self, that, if I know thee rightly, thou wouldst not wound an insect, much less the honor of so gallant and worthy a soul as my master, wast thou sure to be made a countess of; but thou hast been set on, and deluded, dear Bridget, as is often a woman's case, "to please others more than themselves.'* Bridget's eyes poured down at the sen- sations the corporal excited. Tell me, tell me, then, my dear Bridget, continued the corporal, taking hold of her hand, which hung down dead by her side, and giving her a second kiss, whose sus- picion has misled thee ? Bridget sobbed a sob or two, then opened her eyes ; the corporal wiped 'em with the bottom of her apron ; she then opened her heart and told him all. CHAPTER LXV. MY uncle Toby and the corporal had gone on separately with their operations the greatest part of the campaign, and as effectually cut off from all communication of what either the one or the other had been doing, as if they had been separated from each other by the Maes or the Sambre. My uncle Toby, on his side, had pre- sented himself every afternoon in his red and silver, and blue and gold, alternately, and sustained an infinity of attacks in them, without knowing them to be at- tacks ; and so had nothing to communi- cate. The corporal, on his side, in taking Bridget, by it gained considerable advan- tages and consequently had much to com- municate; but what were the advan- tages, as well as what was the manner by which he had seized them, required so nice an historian, that the corporal durst not venture upon it ; and as sensible as he was of glory, would rather have been contented to have gone bare-headed and without laurels forever, than torture his master's modesty for a single moment. Best of honest and gallant servants ! But I have apostrophized thee, Trim, once before ; and could I apotheosize thee also (that is to say with good company), I would do it without ceremony in the very next page. CHAPTER LXVI. Now my uncle Toby had one evening laid down his pipe upon the table, and was counting over to himself, upon his fingers' ends (beginning at his thumb), all Mrs. Wadman's perfections, one by one ; and happening two or three times together, either by omitting some, or counting others twice over, to puzzle himself sadly before he could get beyond his middle-finger, Prithee, Trim, said he, taking up his pipe again, bring me a pen and ink. Trim brought paper also. Take a full sheet, Trim ! said my uncle Toby, making a sign with his pipe at the same time to take a chair and sit down close by him at the table. The corporal obeyed, placed the paper directly before him, took a pen, and dipped it in the ink. She has a thousand virtues, Trim ! said my uncle Toby. Am I to set them down, an' please your Honor? quoth the corporal. But they must be taken in their ranks, replied my uncle Toby ; for of them all, Trim, that which wins the most, and which is a security for all the rest, is the compassionate turn and singular human- ity of her character. I protest, added my uncle Toby, looking up, as he protested it, towards the top of the ceiling, that was I her brother, Trim, a thousand-fold, she could not make more constant or more tender inquiries after my sufferings, though now no more. The corporal made no reply to my uncle Toby's protestation, but by a short cough : he dipped the pen a second time into the inkhorn ; and my uncle Toby v pointing with the end of his pipe as close to the top of the sheet at the left-hand corner of it as he could get it, the corpo- THE COURTSHIP OF UNCLE TOBY AND THE WIDOW WADMAN. 71 ral wrote down the word HUMANITY thus. Prithee, corporal, said my uncle Toby, as soon as Trim had done it, how often does Mrs. Bridget inquire after the wound on the cap of thy knee, which thou re- ceivedst at the battle of Landen ? She never, an' please your Honor, in- quires after it at all. That, corporal, said my uncle Toby, with all the triumph the goodness of his nature would permit, that shows the dif- ference in the character of the mistress and maid. Had the fortune of war allot- ted the ame mischance to me, Mrs. Wadman would have inquired into every circumstance relating to it a hundred times. She would have inquired, an' please your Honor, ten times as often about your Honor's groin. The pain, Trim, is equally excruciating, and Com- passion has as much to do with the one as the other. God bless your Honor, cried the cor- poral, what has a woman's compassion to do with the wound upon the cap of a man'a knee? Had your Honor's been shot into ten thousand splinters at the affair of Landen, Mrs. Wadman would have troubled her head as little about it as Bridget; because, added the corporal, lowering his voice, and speaking very dis- tinctly, as he assigned his reason, " The knee is such a distance from the main body. Whereas the groin, your Honor knows, is upon the very curtain." My uncle Toby gave a long whistle; but in a note which could scarce be heard across the table. The corporal had advanced too far to retire ; in three words he told the rest. My uncle Toby laid down his pipe as gently upon the fender as if it had been spun from the unravelling of a spider's web. Let us go to my brother Shandy's, said he. CHAPTER LXVII. THERE will be just time, whilst my uncle Toby and Trim are walking to my father's, to inform you that Mrs. Wadman had, some moons before this, made a confidant of my mother; and that Mrs. Bridget, who had the burden of her own, as well as her mistress's secret to carry, had got happily delivered of both to Susannah, behind the garden-wall. As for my mother, she saw nothing at all in it, to make the least bustle about ; but Susannah was sufficient by herself for all the ends and purposes you could pos- sibly have, in exporting a family secret ; for she instantly imparted it by signs to Jonathan ; and Jonathan by tokens to the cook, as she was basting a loin of mutton ; the cook sold it with some kitchen-fat to the postillion for a groat ; who trucked it with the dairy-maid for something of about the same value ; and though whispered in the hay-loft, Fame caught the notes with her brazen trum- pet, and sounded them upon the house- top. In a word, not an old woman in the village, or five miles around, who did not understand the difficulties of my uncle Toby's siege, and what were the secret articles which had delayed the surrender. My father, whose way was to force every event in nature into an hypothesis, by which means, never man crucified Truth at the rate he did, had but just heard of the report as my uncle Toby set out ; and catching fire suddenly at the trespass done his brother by it, was de- monstrating to Yorick, notwithstanding my mother was sitting by, not only " That the Devil was in women, and that the whole of the affair was ," but that every evil and disorder in the world, of what kind or nature soever, from the first fall of Adam, down to my uncle Toby's (inclusive), was owing, one way or other, to the same unruly appetite. Yorick was just bringing my father's hypothesis to some temper, when my uncle Toby entered the room with marks of infinite benevolence and forgiveness in his looks, seated himself by the fire, and filled his pipe. ******** END OF THE COURTSHIP OF UNCLE TOBY. A REVEREND gentleman once being at the house of a fellow clergyman, who showed him a library in many lan- guages, asked whether he understood them all ? The answer being in the affir- mative, he rejoined," Then verily, brother, you must have had your head broken with a brick from the tower of Babel." MONSIEUR TONSON. MONSIEUR TONSON. THERE lived, as fame reports, in days of yore, At least some fifty years ago, or more, A pleasant wight on Town, yclept Tom King, A fellow that was clever at a joke, Expert in alt the arts to tease and smoke ; In short, for strokes of humor, quite the thing. To many a jovial club this King was known, With whom his active wit unrivalled shone : Choice spirit, grave free-mason, buck and blood, Would crowd bis stories and bon mots to hear, And none a disappointment e'er could* fear, His humor flowed in such a copious flood. To him a frolic was a high delight : A frolic he would hunt for, day and night, Careless how prudence on the sport might frown. If e'er a pleasant mischief sprang to view, At once o'er hedge and ditch away he flew, Nor left the game, till he had run it down. One night, our hero, rambling with a friend, Near famed St. Giles's chanced his course to bend, Just by that spot, the Seven Dials hight. ' T was silence all around, and clear the coast, The watch, as usual, dozing on his post, And scaroe a lamp displayed a twinkling light. Around this place, there lived the numerous clans Of honest, plodding, foreign artizans, Known at that time by name of refugees. The rod of persecution, from their home, Compelled the inoffensive race to roam, And here they lighted, like a swarm of bees. Well I our two friends were sauntering through the street, In hopes some food for humor soon to meet, When, in a window near, a light they view ; And, though a dim and melancholy ray, It aeemed the prologue to some merry play, So towards the gloomy dome our hero drew. Straight at the door he gave a thundering knock, (The time we may suppose near two o'clock,) " I'll ask, says King, " if Thompson lodgei here." " " Thompson," cries t' other, '' who the devil's he?" " I know not," King replies, " but want to see What kind of animal will now appear." After some time, a little Frenchman came ; One hand displayed a rushlight : s trembling flame, The other held a thing they called culottc, An old striped woolen night-cap graced his head, A tattered waistcoat o'er one shoulder spread ; Scarce half awake, he heaved a yawning note. Though thus untimely roused he courteous smiled, And soon addressed our wag in accents mild, Bending his head politely to his knee " Pray, sare, vat vant you, dat you come so late? I beg your pardon, sare, to make you vait; Pray tell me, sare, what your commands vid me ?" " Sir," replied King, " I merely thought to know, As by your house I chanced to-night to go, (But, really, I disturbed your sleep, I fear,) I say, I thought, that you perhaps could tell, Among the folks who in this quarter dwell, If there's a Mr. Thompson lodges here ?" The shivering Frenchman, though not pleased to find, The business of this unimportant kind, Too simple to suspect 'twas meant in jeer, Shrugged out a sigh that thus his rest was broke, Then, with unaltered courtesy, he spoke ; "No, sare, no Monsieur Tonson lodges here." Our wag begged pardon, and toward home he sped, While the poor Frenchman crawled again to bed. But King resolved not thus to drop the jest, So, the next night, with more of whim than grace, Again he made a visit to the place, To break once more the poor old French man's rest. MONSIEUR TONSON. 73 He knocked but waited longer than before ; No footsteps seemed approaching to the door ; Our Frenchman lay in such a sleep pro- found. King with the knocker thundered then again, Firm on his post determined to remain ; And oft, indeed, he made the door resound. At last King hears him o'er the passage creep, Wond'ring what fiend again disturbed his sleep : The wag salutes him with a civil leer : Thus drawling out to heighten the surprise, While the poor Frenchman rubbed his heavy eyes, "Is there a Mr. Thompson lodges here?" The Frenchman faltered, with a kind of fright, " Vy, sare, I'm sure I told you, sare, last night (And here he labored with a sigh sin- cere,) " No Monsieur Tonson in the varld I know, JTo Monsieur Tonson here I told you so ; Indeed, sare, dare no Monsieur Tonson here !" Some more excuses tendered, off King goes, And the old Frenchman sought once more repose. The rogue next night pursued his old career. 'T was long indeed before the man came nigh, And then he uttered in a piteous cry, " Sare, 'pon my soul, no Monsieur Tonson here !" Our sportive wight his usual visit paid, And the next night came forth a prattling maid, Whose tongue, indeed, than any Jack went faster ; Anxious, she strove his errand to inquire, He said 't was vain her pretty tongue to tire, He should not stir till he had seen her master. The damsel then began, in doleful state, The Frenchman's broken slumbers to relate, And begged he'd call at proper time of day. King told her she must fetch her master down, A. chaise was ready, he was leaving town, But first had much of deep concern to say. Thus urged, she went the snoring man to call, And long, indeed, was she obliged to bawl, Ere she could rouse the torpid lump of clay. At last he wakes ; he rises ; and he swears : But scarcely had he tottered down the stairs, When King attacked him in his usual way. The Frenchman now perceived 't was all in vain To his tormentor mildly to complain, And straight in rage began his crest to rear : " Sare, vat the devil make you treat me so ? Sare, I inform you, sare, three nights ago, Got tarn I swear, no Monsieur Tonson here !" True as the night, King went, and heard a strife Between the harassed Frenchman and his wife, Which would descend to chase the fiend away. At length, they join their forces and agree, And straight impetuously they turn the key, Prepared with mutual fury for the fray. Our hero, with the firmness of a rock, Collected to receive the mighty shock, Uttering the old inquiry, calmly stood The name of Thompson raised the storm so high, He deemed it then the safest plan to fly, With " Well, I'll call when you're in gen- tler mood." In short, our hero, with the same intent, Full many a night to plague the Frenchman went So fond of mischief was the wicked wit : They threw out water ; for the watch they call; But King expecting, still escapes from all- Monsieur at last was forced his house to quit. It happened that our wag, about this time, On some fair prospect sought the eastern clime, Six lingering years were there his tedious lot. At length, content, amid his ripening store, He treads again on Britain's happy shore, And his long absence is at once forgot. To London, with impatient hope, he flies, And the same night, as former freaks arisa, 74 A BREVET HORSE. He fain must stroll, the well-known haunt to trace. "Ahl here's the scene of frequent mirth," he said ; M My poor old Frenchman, I suppose, is dead. Egad, I'll knock, and see who holds his place." With rapid strokes he makes the mansion roar, And while he eager eyes the opening door, Lo ! who obeys the knocker's rattling peal? Why, e'en our little Frenchman, strange to say! He took his old abode that very day Capricious turn of sportive Fortune's wheel 1 Without one thought of the relentless foe, Who, fiend-like, haunted him so long ago, Just in his former trim he now appears ; The waistcoat and the nightcap seemed the same, With rushlight, as before, he creeping came, And King's detested voice astonished hears. As if some hideous spectre struck his sight, His senses seemed bewildered with affright, His face, indeed, bespoke a heart full sore Then starting, he exclaimed, in rueful strain, " Begar ! here's Monsieur Tonson come again !" Away he ran and ne'er was heard of more! JOHW TAYIOR, b. 1769; d 1S32. A COUPLE OF BAD BOYS. Miss Clara Morris gives this lively reminiscence of two well-known actors : " They were boys then ; one tall, blonde, and lazy, the other short, dark, and ac- tive. It was Sunday night ; every one had gone to the Quaker meeting-house a few doors above. They were alone, with- out cards or checkers or books, but Satan came to the rescue. A certain proposal was drawled by the long chap, and eager- ly accepted by the short one. They then put on their hats and coats, armed them- selves with a broom, a pail of water and a dipper, and went forth into the still bit- ter cold of the night, and worked dili- gently. They swept a broad path over the sloping sidewalk, quite free from snow, over this they poured a dipper of water, then waited. In a few minutes it had frozen ; then another dipper of water, and another wait, until the path was glass-like in its icy smoothness. A whisk of the broom sent a light covering of snow over it ; the work was done, and the god- less laborers, gathering up their tools, scrouged themselves down on the door- step and conversed pleasantly. Presently the doors of the meeting-house opened, and two lines of Friends one made up of males, the other of females came out. These lines, coming down the steps sepa- rately, met and mingled in a crowd on the pavement for a few moments, then broke into twos and threes, and came gravely down the sidewalk. Suddenly the stillness of the night was broken by a whack ! whack ! and two snorts that were as one. A female Friend flew to the rescue whack ! The whole congrega- tion, filled with wonder, come ambling down to the scene of disaster whack I whack! whack! groans and snorts, ' thees ' and ' thous ' filled the air, and with cheeks stained with tears of laugh- ter, they sat on the step and 'took it in,' those sons of Belial, since so well known to the world as Joseph Jefferson and John Ellsler." A BREVET HORSE. TOWARDS the close of our civil war, the government became somewhat lavish in the bestowment of brevet-titles upon offi- cers of the army. As these titles ad- vanced the rank without increasing the pay of the recipients, this sort of promo- tion had the two-fold advantage (from the governmental point of view) of gratify- ing the ambition of the officers thereby distinguished without making any extra drafts on the exchequer. Now as soldiers, especially the rank and file, lead a somewhat monotonous life, the men eagerly seize on every fresh theme of con- rersation ; and if a subject is capable of being presented in a ludicrous light, some of the men are sure to make it serve for their amusement. A matter of such purely military interest as official promo- tions, could not, of course, fail of com- ment around the mess-board and the camp fire, particularly the very numer- A SUCCESSFUL TRICK. 75 ous promotions by brevet, which, in the estimation of some of the " boys '' were rather empty honors. While the subject was still fresh, a brevet lieutenant- colonel of recent manufacture, observing a teamster severely beating a mule, rode up and demanded the cause of his rough treatment of the animal. The teamster, with a roguish twinkle of the eye, and a side-glance at the "boys'" standing near, replied that "this plaguey brevet-horse wouldn't pull worth a cent, and he was just bound to make him." As the brevet lieutenant-colonel rode away reflectively he fancied he heard something very like the sound of suppressed laughter. THE TROVERS. SALMON of forty pounds' weight are sometimes caught in Loch Eck, a fact that renders the little inn at Whistlefield a favorite resort of solitary anglers. In reference to the quondam hostess of this inn, a celebrated living artist and enthu- siastic fisherman tells the following story : " I was once fishing in Loch Eck," said the artist, "but had caught nothing, and on my arrival at Whistlefield, very hun- gry and thirsty, I inquired of the honest Highland woman who keeps the place if I could have any thing^ for dinner. " ' Oo, av ! ' she replied, ' ony thing you like to order, sir.' "'Well, then, can you let me have a little bit of salmon or a trout?' '"A'm vara sorra, but there's no saa- mont and no troot. There were some tro- vers (drovers) here yesterday, and they just ate up a' the saamont and a' the troot. But you can have ony thing else you like.' '"Can you let me have a beefsteak?' "'It is beef ye ar' askin' for? Beef? There's na beef; do you think we can kill a coo?' "'Well, mutton-chops will do just as well.' "'Chops!' she replied, with a melan- choly whine ; ' chops ! ye might hae had chops, only ye see the trovers were here yesterday and they ate up a' the chops.' " ' You don't seem to have very much to choose from, my good woman; but perhaps you can let me have some ham- and-eggs or bacon-and-eggs, I don't care which?' " ' Ham-and-eggs ! Lord save us! There's no a bit ham left in the hoose. The tro- vers, ye see ' " ' Oh, confound the trovers ! Can you give me some eggs without the ham ?' " ' 'Deed, sir, that's just what I canna dae ; the trovers ! been ! they 're hungry callants, and can eat mair eggs than a' the hens in the country-side can lay. They didna leave me a single egg for my ain supper yesternight; but ye can hae ony thing else ye like to ca' for.' " ' Suppose, then, as you have no eggs, that you thraw (twist) the neck of the hen that laid them.' " ' 'Deed, sir, I would dae that right willingly, but the trovers, the trovers! They not only ate up a' the eggs, but the hen and the cock as weel !' " 'Then I suppose I can have nothing, and must walk on to Kilmun ?' " ' Na, na ! Wat for should ye do that ? There's plenty in the hoose, if ye wad but just say what ye want.' "'Plenty of what?' " ' Plenty of cake' (oat-cake), ' and but- ter, an' a bit o' ewe-milk cheese, and wus- key (whisky) enough to soom (swim) in.' " So I took the oat-cake, and the fresh butter, and the whisky ; and I advise no- body to expect any thing else at a High- land village." A SUCCESSFUL TRICK. A DUBLIN merchant named Johnson was very hard on his clerks, and when a visitor left the store without a purchase he would discharge the clerk. He took up a position near the door, and as cus- tomers passed out would inquire if they had been properly served. On one occa- sion a lady was negotiating with a clerk for a shawl, but the sale was not made. The clerk called the lady's attention to the old gentleman, who was, as usual, standing near the door, waiting to waylay the old lady with the customary question. " That old man," said the clerk, " is crazy. He may attempt to stop you as you go out, and you had best avoid him as he is sometimes dangerous." The lady started for the door, and as the old gentleman approached her, gave a shriek and darted out. Johnson was greatly astonished, and walking back to the clerk asked : " Do r 1 THE PENNY YE MEANT TO GI'E." you know that lady?" "No, sir," re- plied the clerk, "but I think she is crazy." " You are right," returned the old gentle- man. " she must be crazy." "DON'T TALK TILL YE SEE FLYNN." ME. PETERS has a tailor, named Tim- othy Flynn, in his employ. The domestic affairs of Timothy and his wife are not conducted with harmony. Broken heads and dismembered articles of furniture fre- quently attest this fact. Mrs. Flynn usu- ally accompanies Timothy when he goes to the office on Saturday evenings to draw his wages, and as there is a difference of opinion between Mr. and Mrs. Flynn as to which of them has the right to assume the responsibilities of the position of fi- nancial agent of the family, the proceed- ings are often of a tumultuous nature. Last Monday, Timothy did not come to work. On Tuesday, Mr. Peters went to his house to see him. He met Mrs. Flynn at the door. A black eye, a bruised nose and a triumphant smile were her most prominent features. "You seem to have been having a devil of a time, Mrs. Flynn," said Mr. Peters; "you are all broken up. Has " " Don't talk, Mr. Pethors. Lord love ye, don't talk till ye Bee Flynn." " THE PENNY YE MEANT TO GI'E." THERE'S a funny tale of a stingy man, Who was none too good, but might have been worse, Who went to his church, on a Sunday night, And carried along his well-filled purse. When the sexton came with his begging- plate, The church was but dim with the candle's light ; The stingy man fumbled all through his purse, And chose a coin by touch, and not sight. It's an odd thing, now, that guineas should be So like unto pennies In shape and size. * I'll give a penny," the stingy man said : " The poor must not gifts of pennies des- pise.'' The penny fell down with a clatter and ring! And back in his seat leaned the stingy man, " The world is so full of the poor,"'' he thought : "I can't help them all I give what I can." Ha, ha I how the sexton smiled, to be suref To see the gold guinea fall into his plate ' Ha, ha ! how the stingy man's heart was wrung, Perceiving his blunder, but just too late ! " No matter," he said : " in the Lord's ac- count That guinea of gold is set down to me. They lend to him who give to the poor : It will not so bad an investment be." " Na, na, mon," the chuckling sexton cried out: " The Lord is na cheated He kens thee well ; He knew it was only by accident That out o' thy fingers the guinea fell ! " He keeps an account, na doubt, for th puir: But in that account He'll set down to thee Na mair o' that golden guinea, my mon, Than the one bare penny ye meant to gi'e." There's a comfort, too, in the little tale A serious side as well as a joke ; A comfort for all the generous poor, In the comical words the sexton spoke ; A comfort to think that the good Lord knows How generous we really desire to be, And will give us credit in His account For all the pennies we long " to gi'e." In a parliamentary canvass for West- minster, Charles James Fox being a can- didate, asked a blunt citizen for his vote. He received the following answer : " Mr. Fox, I admire your head, but damn your heart." To which Fox immediately re- torted "Sir, I admire your candor, but damn your manners." HOW HE STOPPED CHEWING. 77 HOW HE STOPPED CHEWING. SMIKES made up his mind to stop chewing. He never was much of a chew- er, anyhow, he said. He had n't used tobacco but for a few years, and rarely consumed more than an ounce paper in a day. But he feared the habit might get hold of him and become fixed, and if there was anything he abhorred it was to see a man become a slave to a bad habit. He had used the weed some, to be sure, but there had never been a time during the last ten years when he could not stop at any moment. But so long as he did not become habituated to its use, he did not care to stop. He could break it off at any minute, and it was a great satis- faction to feel so. Thompson, he thought, was an abject slave to his pipe. He pitied Thompson, for he had seen Thompson try to stop smoking several times, and fail ignomin- iously every time he undertook it. But Smikes wanted to show his wife how easy he could quit. So Monday morning he remarked carelessly to Samantha that he guessed he would stop using tobacco. Sa- mantha said she was glad of it, and added impetuously, what she had never said be- fore that it was a vile habit. Smikes appeared a little nervous and confused when Samantha said this, and mumbled out something about being glad that he had never got into it himself. In his agitation he pulled out his tobacco box and was about to take a chew, when he recollected himself and plunged out of the door, forgetting his umbrella. About halfway to the office he met Jones, with whom he was having some business transactions. While they were talking the thing over, Smikes got a little enthusias- tic, and he had almost reached the office before he noticed that he was rolling an uncommonly plump quid around his mouth like a sweet morsel. How it got there Smikes did not know. He puzzled over that little thing all the rest of the forenoon, and at last he took it out of his mouth and threw it away, satisfied that he must have taken it while talking with Jones. Twice that afternoon Smikes took out his tobaccorbox and looked at it. Once he took off the cover, and smelled of the tobacco. It smelt so good that Smikes felt impelled to remark to himself that it was the easiest thing in the world to stop chewing. He congratulated himself again and again that day that he did not become entangled in the meshes of the filthy vice, and he alluded to the matter three or four times that evening at the tea-table, till Samantha marvelled greatly at the firm- ness of Smikes. She had always heard, she said, that it was a hard thing to leave off. But Smikes had told her and kept telling her that it was "just as easy," and her reverence for the virile strength and independence of character of Smikes grew like a gourd. That night Smikes had the night-mare. He thought that a legion of foul fiends had got him up in a corner of the back yard, and had rolled upon his belly a monstrous quid of "fine cut," as large around as a cart-wheel, and that they were trying to force it into his mouth. Smikes struggled vigorously, and when Samantha shook him and asked him what was the matter, his only reply was that " anybody could stop chewing if they only made up "their mind to it." The next day Smikes was a little nervous. He told everybody who came in what a simple thing it was to stop chewing. TLe third day he harped about it all day long. He told one man about it three different times, and when that much-informed in- dividual ventured the opinion that he would be chewing again in less than a week, Smikes indignantly ejaculated: " Mr. Jenkins, when I make up my mind to a thing that is the last of it. ' The fourth day Smikes heard that chamomile blossoms were sometimes used as a substitute for tobacco, and just out of curiosity he devoured a couple of ounces of them. He said to the druggist when he bought them, that it was easy enough to stop the use of tobacco. On the fifth day Smikes got sick. His nerves gave out. He snapped something at Sa- mantha at the breakfast table, upset his inkstand, burnt his fingers poking some cinders out of the grate, and had no ap- petite for dinner. That day the devil whispered to Smikes that tobacco was really beneficial to some temperaments. Smikes had a temperament of that kind. The sixth day Smikes felt like a mur- derer. He seemed to himself to have be- come transformed into a Modoc. flii 78 THE VICAR OF BRAY. mouth was dry and parched. A stout healthy-looking old gentleman came into Smikes's office that day. He was a grea friend of Smikes, and he drew forth his silver tobacco-box and daintily shook oul a small portion of the pungent weed Smikes felt his mouth water. He re- marked to Mr. Johnson that he Lad no: chewed any for six days, and that he hac refrained so long just to satisfy himsel: that anybody could chew or leave it alone He was fully satisfied that it could be done, but he rather thought that his was one of those temperaments that are really acted upon in a beneficial way by the temperate use of tobacco. Mr. Johnson said he thought so too, and as he handed Smikes his box, re- marked that he had chewed regularly for thirty years, and didn't know as it had ever damaged him any. As Smikes rolled a large quid back into his left cheek, he said he thought there was a great differ- ence in men. He was satisfied that he could stop chewing at any moment, but there were some temperaments to which a fentle narcotic or opiate was really a leasing. Saratogian. THE VICAR OF BRAY. 1 IN good King Charles's golden days, When loyalty no harm meant, A zealous high churchman was I, And so I got preferment. To teach my flock I never miss'd Kings were by God appointed, And lost are those that dare resist Or touch the Lord's anointed. And this is law that I '11 maintain Until my dying day, sir, That whatsoever King shall reign, Still I '11 be the vicar of Bray, sir. When royal James possessed the crown, And popery grew in fashion, The penal laws I hooted down, And read the Declaration : The Church of Rome I found would fit Full well my constitution ; > In Berkshire. Nichols eayg, in his Select Poems, that the song of the Vicar of Bray " was written by a soldier in Colonel Fuller'* troop of Dragoons, in the rlgn of George L" And I had been a Jesuit, But for the Revolution. And this is law that I'll maintain Until my dying day, sir, That whatsoever King shall reign, Still I '11 be the vicar of Bray, sir. When William was our king declar'd, To ease the nation's grievance, With this new wind about I steer'd, And swore to him allegiance. Old principles I did revoke, Set conscience at a distance ; Passive obedience was a joke, A jest was non-resistance. And this is law that I '11 maintain Until my dying day, sir, That whatsoever King shall reign, Still I '11 be the vicar of Bray, sir. When royal Anne became our queen, The Church of England's glory, Another face of things was seen, And I became a Tory : Occasional conformists base, I blam'd their moderation, And thought the church in danger was, By such prevarication. And this is law that I '11 maintain Until my dying day, sir, That whatsoever King shall reign, Still I '11 be the vicar of Bray, sir. When George in pudding-time came o'er And moderate men look'd big, sir, My principles I chang'd once more, And so became a Whig, sir ; And thus preferment I procur'd From our new faith's defender : And almost every day abjured The Pope and the Pretender. And this is law that I '11 maintain Until my dying day, sir, That whatsoever King shall reign, Still I '11 be the vicar of Bray, air. The illustrious house of Hanover, And Protestant succession, To these I do allegiance swear While they can keep possession : ?or in my faith and loyalty, I never more will falter, And George my lawful king shall be Until the times do alter. And this is law that I '11 maintain Until my dying day, sir, That whatsoever King shall reign, Still I '11 be the vicar of Bray, sir. THE JACKDAW. 79 BLUCHER AND HIS PIPE-BEARER AT THE BATTLE OF WATERLOO. OLD Field-Marshal Bliicherwaa partic- ularly fond of three things a glass of wine, a game at cards, and a pipe of tobac- co. With the two former he was frequently obliged to dispense, but he could not and would not do without the latter, nor could he help indulging in smoking, if it were ever so little, before he undertook anything serious. A few puffs at the spur of the moment would satisfy him, but to be without them at all was a matter of impossibility. For this purpose he had appointed as his pipe-bearer one of his " boys " (as he used to call his hussars), a fellow-countryman from Rostock Christian Hennemann who had charge of a large box of common long Dutch clay pipes, all filled with tobacco, and ready for use at a moment's notice. This box constituted the principal item of the marshal's field equipage. Hennemann was so devoted to his master and his charge, that he would have killed on the spot any one who attempted to purloin a pipe from the box, or bring the latter in danger of breaking some of the precious (to him sacred) contents. On the morning of the memorable bat- tle of Waterloo, Hennemann had just handed his master a lighted pipe, when a cannon-ball struck the ground close by, scattering earth and gravel in all direc- tions, and causing the white charger on which Bliicher was mounted to spring aside a manoeuvre that broke the pipe into a thousand pieces before the owner had time even to lift it to his lips. " Just keep a lighted pipe ready for me ; I shall be back in a few moments, after I have driven away the rascally French churls.' 1 With these words, Bliicher gave the command, " Forward, boys I " and off he galloped with his cav- alry. Instead, however, of a chase of a few minutes, it was a rapid march of nearly a whole hot summer day, as we all know from history. After the battle was over, Blucher rode back with Wellington to the place where he first got a glimpse of the combating armies, and n earing the spot where Blucher had halted in the morning, they MW to their surprise a solitary man, his head tied with a handkerchief, one arm in a sling, and calmly smoking a pipe I " Donner und blitz ! " cried Blucher, " why, that is my Hennemann. How you look , boy ; what are you doing here alone ? " " Waiting for your speedy return," was the grumbling answer. " You have come at last ! I have waited for you here, pipe in mouth, for the whole long day. This is the last pipe in the box. The cursed French have shot away every pipe from my mouth, have ripped the flesh from my head, and shattered my arm with their deuced bullets. It is well there is an end to the battle, or you would have been too late even for the last pipe." Saying which, he handed to Blucher the pipe, to enjoy the remaining fumes of the weed. Wellington, who had listened atten- tively to the conversation, here remarked to Blucher, "You have just admired the unflinching loyalty and bravery of my Highlanders, what shall I say to this true and devoted soul ? " " But your Highlanders had no pipes to regale themselves with." Dfc. MlCHF.LSEN, b. 1801. THE JACKDAW. THERE is a bird, who, by his coat, And by the hoarseness of his note, Might be supposed a crow ; A great frequenter of the church, Where, bishop-like, he finds a perch, And dormitory too. Above the steeple shines a plate, That turns and turns, to indicate From what point blows the weather ; Look up your brains begin to swim, 'T is in the clouds that pleases him, He chooses it the rather. Fond of the speculative height, Thither he wings his airy flight, And thence securely sees The bustle and the raree-show, That occupy mankind below, Secure and at his ease. You think, no doubt, he sits and muse* On future broken bones and bruisea, If he should chance to fall. 80 AN IRRESISTIBLE APPEAL. No ; not a single thought like that Employs his philosophic pate, Or troubles it at alL He sees that this great round-about, The World, with all its motley rout, Church, army, physic, law, Its customs, and its businesses, Is no concern at all of his, And says what says he ? Caw. Thrice happy bird ! I too have seen Much of the vanities of men ; And, sick of having seen 'em, Would cheerfully these limbs resign For such a pair of wings as thine, And such a head between 'em. WILLIAM COWPB, 1731-1800. ly, " Very well, Mac Stringer, I consent." And she gave him a rose. A BRIEF COURTSHIP. HERE is a Scotch romance : " That bear ! " muttered to herself a bonnie lassie at about forty-seven and three-quarters, as she fled from a public flower garden at the approach of a man of fifty-two and seven-eighths, who was noted for saying bitter things of the other sex. " What did you run for? " said a gruff voice behind her. " To get rid of you." " You did n't do it, did you ? " "No; you are worse than a pitch plaster." " You won't get rid of me, either." " I won't, eh ? " " Only in one way." "And that?" " Marry me." "What! us two fools get married! What would people say ? " " That 's nothing to us. Come, say yes or no. I'm in a hurry." " Well, no, then." "Very well, good-by," the male ex- claimed. " It 's your last offer in this life." The lady was disconcerted at the idea. She thought, and replied softly, " Stop a bit." "Yes or no?" " I must consult " *' All right ; I thought you were of age Good-by." After second thoughts, she said bland- THE PHILOSOPHER AND THE FERRYMAN. A PHILOSOPHER stepped on board a boat to cross a stream ; on the passage he inquired of the ferryman if he under- stood arithmetic. The man looked aston- ished : " Arithmetic ? No, sir ; never heard of it before." The philosopher replied : " I am very sorry, for one-quarter of your life is gone." A few minutes after, he asked the fer- ryman: "Do you know anything of mathematics ? " The boatman smiled, and replied: " No." "Well, then," said the philosopher, " another quarter of your life is gone." A third question was asked the ferry- man, " Do you understand astronomy ? " " Oh, no, no ; never heard of such a thing."' " Well, my friend, then another quar- ter of your life is gone." Just at this moment the boat ran on a rock. The ferryman jumped up, pulling off his coat, and asked the philosopher, " Sir, can you swim ? " " No,'' said the philosopher. " Then," shouted the ferryman, " your whole life is gone, for the boat is going to the bottom." AN IRRESISTIBLE APPEAL. ON one of the anchor line boats the other day was a young man of decent look but a good deal the worse for whis- key. He persisted in singing at the top of his voice, and it was the poorest kind of singing. After a brief pause he re- moved his hat and said, " Now, I'm going to sing something sad." Hadn't you as soon wait until we get to Vicks- burg?" inquired a passenger. " Wh what f'r?" gasped the young man. " Because I have got a young mule on the lower deck, and if he gets an idea that he can sing as good as you do, he'll never be worth a nickel to bray I " There was no more singing. TIM PRICE'S RAM. TIM PRICE'S RAM. BY TOBE HODGE. " Ho, Colonel ! Ho, there ! Don't git over them bars. Stop thar, or you'll git butted wuss nor a mule kickin'. My buck mutton's out ! " yelled Tim Price, as he came hurriedly out of his cabin, with an alarmed look, hatless, shoeless, arid followed by his dog Spider and a crowd of youngsters. Tim never was seriously earnest in his life, and the truth seldom escaped from him; but to give color to his caution a fine ram stood some distance off with his head toward me, and as I never had heard of a decision being rendered on that famous subject so long agitating Georgia debating schools, " Which am de butt end ob a ram?" I concluded to remain in doubt myself about it and stay on the right side of the fence until Tim came. " I'm powerful glad I seed you comin'. He kep' Seth Jones treed up thet bar post three mortal hours t'other arternoon, an' him a puttin' in a lick once in a bit ter kinder show Seth what he'd git if he' come down. I kep' the childern aback the cabin with me, a lookin' thro' the chinks to see Seth a shakin' every lick he hit, an' a hollerin' fer me, and swearin'. Thar he sot, perched up on the pint uv the post, oncomfortable like as a fish on a gig, squirmin'. Arter 'bout three hours treein' an' him gittin' weak, an' the ram knocken' two bar holes inter one, I thought 'twas fun enough ; an' I lets on to be jist come in from the clearin', an' I says : ' Ho Seth 1 what you doin' up thar, any way ! ' an' say he : I jist got up fer to look 'round ter see if I kin see you. I've been hollerin' fer you. I wish you'd step this way, Tim, I want ter ax you 'bout somethin'.' " ' Well, git down,' I says, ' an' come inter the cabin.' ' I hain't time,' he says. Jest come yer, an' he kep' lookin' as if he'd never seed the ram, as innercent like as my dog Spider arter stealin' the old woman's cookens. An' he seed I weren't om ter let him down till he owned up. o say he letten on ter see the buck for the fust time ' Why thar's yer buck mutton, hain't he ? Drive him off, Tim, or I'll jump on him.' ' Jump ahead,' I VOL. II. W. H. says : ' ef the pesky critter will stan' round butten at bar' posts for fun he must expect to be jumped onter. Jump on him, Seth, dem him.' But Seth, he jist perched higher, fer the ram gin an all-fired lick at the post. He sot his head back two inches that day. an' sprained one of his hoofs toein' fur hard licks. " Bymebye Seth says, awful solemn like : ' Tim, I'm powerful feered of hydro- phoby, an' people say yer buck mutton's got it. Skeer him off, do.' So I sicked Spider at him, an' Seth he got down, an' yer ought ter see him runnin ! . He never said what he'd come fer. " I allus lets Spider do the managin' ov him. I can't conshusly do nothin' with him. Spider jist backs away from him outer the way ov licks, an' the ram follers. I've knowed him to take him more'n three mile an' a quarter thataway, au' then scoot hum, leavin' the buck madder'n ever at bein' fooled so. " While back, them railroad ingineers was spyen 'long yere, an' every feller in the kentry was 'long ter hev it run just whar he wanted it, an' ter give 'pinions like. The peoples yerabouts staid high on the fences, 'cause they knowed the meanness of my buck critter ; but a feller with a spyen machine gits right inter my medder, an' plump inter the middle on it, an' spreads out a pinted, three-legged con- sarn he had, with a surveyin' compass onter it, an' goes to winden on her up. I seed the ram a-lookin' at him from a jinin' patch, an' thinks I, thar'll be fun about all them legs in a minute ; for the feller didn't treat me right no way when I was 'lowen' to him whar the road oughter go. He got it sot, an' wound up an' were a spyen at a feller with a red pole 'way down yonder, an' he took out his wiper an' give it a shake, an' hollers ' all right.' But it wasn't. The ram he seed it, an' he come as straight as a rock at a barbecue. An' the fellers hollered ' Look out ! ' an' the spyen man he looked 'round kinder slow an' cool-like ter see what was goin' on, an' Lord ! he seed it was him. "The buck was a-comin' jumpin' an* buttin', fer practice like as ef it were tryin' ter knock a hole in all out-doors. The man jest gathered them five legs three of the machine's an' two of his'n quicker nor you kin shy a hymn-book at a preacher, an' struck fer the fence. But LOGIC OR THE HORSE CHESTNUT. 'twere too late. The ram was inter him, an' yer mought have h*ered him mixiu' his head with them legs fer a mile. " He smashed some uv them brass tricks out agin that feller as flat's a batter cake ef he didn't I'll eat the greaser an' he bent up the spyin' machine so yer couldn't hev run a race course or a circus track with it 'twere too crooked fer that. "The feller hollered, an' every time he'd git on his bans an' knees the ram was ready agin, an' socked him down, an' kep' a standin' lookin' 'round fer some- thin' ter hit, agin the feller come ter time. Soon's I could git my buryin' face on, I takes Spider in ter whar the fuss wuz goin' on, an' he coaxed him clar over ter Pinch Holler, thet's better nor two miles. " When I gethered the feller up, he was as nigh onter what you Eastern fellers tells 'bout sea pukes, as I reckon I'll ever see, bein' so far from the big water. An' when we stripped him ter docter him up, thar, right on his back, were the print uv the hull derned pints uv the compass north and south, east and west, an' the divisions jist as plain as big day light, derned ef they wasn't an' I picked the compass needle out urhim, an' hitpintin' to the west, a little nor' not speakin' uv two screws an' right smart glass. Ef ther wasn't, may I never! The feller said he were wuss than a torpedy, for he never stopped goin' off. " T'other day I went out thar whar you see the choppin' block to git a bit uv wood for the old woman, an' I seed the buck a standin' lookin' at me choppin', an' he kep' gittin' nigher an' nigher, an' thinks I, my ole mutton, I'll larn yer somethin' ef yer goes buttin' at me. Every time I fetched down the ax, down ud go his head as ef he wanted ter try a 'bout with it, an' gin it a butt like, an' it were too much fer him. He lets go his holt on the ground an' comes in flyin', an' I jist hauled off an' fetched the ax down on his for'head hard as I could lick, coz I didn't keer whether I did kill him he were fat an' jist as sure as I'm tellin' yer, Colonel, he turned the edge uv thet ax back two inches an' a bit. Ef he didn't I'll eat the hannel, an' I hev the hannel yit. I saved myself runnin' inter the cabin before he could stop an' git back." LOGIC, OR THE HORSE CHESTNUT. AN Eton stripling, trained to the law, A dunce at Syntax, but a dab at taw, One happy Christmas laid upon the shelf His cap and gown and store of learned plf By invitation, thought he'd take a roam, To spend a fortnight at his uncle's home ; Arriv'd, and pass'd the usual how-d'ye-do's, Enquiries for old friends and college news : " Well, Tom, the road, what saw you worth discerning ? How goes study what is it you're learn- ing ?" " Oh, logic, sir ; but not the shallow rules Of Locke and Bacon, antiquated fools I 'Tis wit and wrangler's logic ; thus, d'ye see? I'll prove to you as plain as A B C, That an eel-pie's a pigeon ; to deny it, Were to say black is not black." " Come. try it." " An eel-pie is a pie offish. 1 ' " Agreed." " Fish-pie may be ^ac^-pie." " Well, pro- ceed." " A jack-pie is a John-pie ; and 'tis done, For every John-pie must be a pie- John /" (pi-geon) " Bravo !" Sir Peter cries, '' logic for ever 1 That beats my grandmother, and she was clever. But hold, my boy, since now it would be hard That wit and learning should have no re- ward, To-morrow, for a stroll, the park we'll cross, And then I'll give thee " } < What ?" " My chestnut horse /" " A horse?" quoth Tom, " blood, pedigree, and paces 1 Oh, what a dash I'll cut at Epsom races !" To bed he went ; and slept for downright sorrow, That night must go before he'd see the morrow : Dreamt of his boots and spurs, and leather breeches ; Hunting of cats, and leaping rails and ditches. He left his rest an hour before the lark ; And dragg'd his uncle, fasting, to the park. Halter in hand, each vale he scour'd. at loss To spy out something like a chestnut huise. JOE HATCH. f3ut no such animal the meadows cropt. At length, beneath a tree, Sir Peter stopt ; A branch he caught, then shook it, and down fell A fine horse chestnut, in its prickly shell. " There, Tom, take that." " Well, sir, and what beside ?" " Why, since you're booted, saddle it and ride." "Bide what? a chestnut I" "Aye, come, get across ; I tell you, Tom, that chestnut is a horse. And all the horse you'll get ; for I can shew As clear as sun-shine, that 'tis really so : Not by the musty, fusty, worn-out rules Of Locke and Bacon, addle-headed fools ! Or old Malebranche, blind pilot into knowl- edge ; But by the laws of wit and Eton College. All axioms but the wranglers' I'll disown ; And stick to one sound argument, your own. Thus now, you've proved it, as I don't deny, That a Pie- John's the same as a John-Pie; What follows then? why, as a thing of course, That a horse chestnut is a chestnut horse." AN INCIDENT OP TYRONE POW- ER'S VISIT TO PITTSBURGH IN 1832. FROM TVROME POWER'S IMPB1B8IONS OF AMERICA. THE first white man born west of the Alleghany is atill living ; by the way, a whimsical anecdote relating to this gen- tleman is current in Pittsburgh, and which I here relate as I myself received it. At a public dinner, Mr. R the per- son alluded to, being present, had his health proposed and cordially drunk as " the first white man born west of the Alleghany." Now, Mr. R happening to be very dark complexioned, a waggish Irishman, who was seated next to him, could not help adding, with a sly air, having repeated the toast, " and not par- ticularly white either." "Why that's very true, 1 ' returned the subject of the jest, with much good humor, " and the reason assigned for the exceed- ing redness of my skin is in itself not a little illustrative of the recent condition of our country, which is in fact the true abject of this toast. " Shortly after my father had located his family on the Ohio, my mother was, whilst in the act of fetching water from the stream a little way outside the stock- ade within which our dwelling stood, startled by the near whoop of an Indian warrior, and, on raising her head, per- ceived close beside her, a chief of the neighboring tribe ; she instantly fled like a deer; and being young and active gained the shelter of the stockade, within which, however, she fell exhausted, but was so preserved. Some time after I was ushered into life ; and the darkness of my complexion was always referred to the fact of my mother having been frightened and followed by the young Indian. 1 ' "And a mighty natural mode of ac- counting for the same," replied Pat ; ad- ding with a most provoking air of sim- plicity, " but, may I ask, did you ever hear your poor mother say whether the Indian overtook her or not?" JOE HATCH. (From one of Charles Mathews, the Elder's, Entertain- ments). " Waterman, 1 ' said Mr. Barnacle, a Yorkshire gentleman, " what is your fare that is, your strict fare to Battersea? " " Half-a-crown, your honour." " Half-a- crown ; why I thought it was but three- pence, I think it was so once ? '" " That's the wherry question I vos litigating fore and aft, afore Sir Richard last week. ' Sir Richard,' says I, ' it's wherry true and perfectly incomprehensible, too, that the strict fare atwixt bridge and bridge is but thruppence, but then that ere applies afore bridges were built, and, therefore, doesn't come vithin the meaning of the statee' Now, you see, Sir Richard know'd the competency of that ere remark, but then he didn't vant to know it ; so says he to me, ' Draw in your jawing tackle a bit, vill you, Master Joe Hatch,' or vords equiver- lent to that ere effect ; but, howsomdever, that vos the sinnification on 'em. But, though he told me to pull in my oar ever so many times, I carried the pint o' the law slap in the vind's teeth agin him ! " " Oh, then I suppose you were summoned, Mr. Waterman ? " " Summonsed ! O no, your honour, leave Joe Hatch alone for JOE HATCH. that ere ! You see, von Jack Cox, a bro- ther vaterman, vos lugged up afore the bench, for charging a gemman a hog for taking him off to a steamer and wherry right, too, for if a man's boat arn't his castle, it's wherry odd, blow me! But, Lord love you, I dares to say, as how you doesn't know who I am." " Why, no, my good fellow, I can't say I've that pleasure." "Vy, Lord love your silly head, vy, I thought everybody know'd me ! Vy, my name's Joe Hatch I settles all disputes and fights on the water, from Greenwich to Battersea ; some on 'em calls me the Boat Barrister, and others say as I'm the River Chanceller ! But that's all along o' my being a chief abroad for so many years ! '' " You a chief abroad ! " "Aye, I a chief abroad ; vy, Lord love you, I married a princess. Look here (shewing his forehead,) look at this." "Aye, I see, all over in a crackling, like a piece of pork ! " " That's vhere I was tartoo'd : all prickled in vi' needles, and colour'd vi' bilberry juice ! " " You seem a strange sort of character, and I should like to hear a little of your history." " Wherry veil, then you shall have the whole true and particlier account as ve goes up the vater. Now, boy, lug in the boat there, vill you ? ( Yes, yes.) Now then be seated, gentle- men. You must know that about fifteen years ago. I vos wreck'd on the Tonga Islands, aboard a vhaler ; where I taught the natives, poor ignorant indiwidivals, the polite arts, so the King Kikeekuron- kikokoko, (for that vos his name,) took a great liking to me, and made me chief o' six hatchets " " I think you seem to be throwing one o' them hatchets now." " No I arn't, your honour, leave me alone for that ere. You see a chief o' six hatchets in them ere parts, is similar to a duke in these here. Veil, the King says to me, von day, says he, for ve vos wherry fa- miliar, and larnt von another's lingo abit. ' Joe,' says he, ' vill you marry my darter, the Princess Hookihokikokipoki ? ' ' Vy, your majesty,' says I, ' I'm perfectly vill- ing, perwiding the young 'oman's agreea- ble." So, wi' that ere, he called vot they called a palaver, which is a similar sort o' thing to our parliament here ; (and a wherry black affair it is, by the bye,) they all met in a ring such a lot o' black pud- ding-lipp'd looking covies; at first they couldn't agree ( don't fall out here, gem- men) at last they did agree ; so the prin- cess and I've jumped over a bamboo to- gether, a fashion similar to the English vay of jumping over the broomstick ! A sort o' way they has o' getting sweet upon von another by jumping over sugar canes I She vos a wherry fine 'oman a capital sort o' 'oman she vos a sort o' black- brown muddy-coloured 'oman ! She had a remarkable small nose it vosn't a nose neither she had two holes instead of a nose, but vhich answered all the same purposes ; and just below them two holes, vos another hole only a large von vhich served for a mouth it vos like an annual lease reach'd from ear to ear ! Vhen she laugh'd, her head vos above half off it held by a little at the back, like a backy- box. Then inside o' that ere mouth vos a tongue, and that tongue look'd for all the vorld like a toad looking out of a blacking-bottle. Then, her ears you should have seen her ears they look'd just like two ha'pporths of dog's meat. She vos a sweet 'oman a clever 'oman too ; she'd been a wherry great warrior she'd killed sixty men in battle vi' her own hands, and vore all their double teeth round her neck by vay of a necklace. That was pretty nearly all the clothes she wore ; so her wardrobe wasn't werry ex- pensive. Ve lived in a deal of harmony too ; ve killed our own hogs ; ve chew'd all our own tabacca ; and laid all our own eggs and sharp vork ve had of it too ; and then ve used to valk out together in the hot veather a pretty figure ve cut too. I used to look along side o' her like a pound o' long butter, a valking along side o' five feet and a half o' black pud- ding. But you see them ere pleasures couldn't last for ever, for the King's nevy, von Flibbetyflobbetybuskybango for that vos his name, he got gallows (jealous) o' me ; for he saw the signs o' the haccession vos in me a young piccaninny in the shape of a Joe Hatch vos a coming. Now, he didn't like the idea o' that nor I didn't like the idea o' being grilled and tomahawked for their breakfasts some morning, so I cut and run off by the first ship, and here I am and here ve are at Battersea my fare, gemmen, amounts to half-a-crown." JOSH BILLINGS thinks his worst habit is the coat he bought at Poughkeepsie. DR. JOHNSON'S PUDDING. S3 DR. JOHNSON'S PUDDING. (From the Reminitcences of Henry Angela,) Some years ago I made another ex- cursion to Scotland, with the intention of completing my series of views, and went over the same ground described by the i earned tourists, Dr. Johnson and Bos- svell. Being in the habit of taking very long walks on these occasions, and per- ceiving a storm threaten, I made the best of my way to a small building. I arrived in time at a neat little inn, and was re- ceived by a respectable-looking man and his wife, who did all in their power to make me comfortable. After eating some excellent fried mutton chops, and drink- ing a quart of ale, I asked the landlord to sit down, and partake of a bowl of whiskey punch. I found him, as the Scotch gene- rally are, very intelligent, and full of anecdote, of which the following may serve as a specimen : " Sir," said the landlord, " this inn was formerly kept by Andrew Macgregor, a relation of mine , and these hard-bottomed chairs (in which we are now sitting) were, years ago filled by the great tourists, Dr. Johnson and Boswell, travelling like the lion and jackal. Boswell generally pre- ceded the doctor in search of food, and being much pleased with the look of the house, he followed his nose into the larder, where he saw a fine leg of mutton. He ordered it to be roasted with the utmost expedition, and gave particular orders for a nice pudding. " Now, 1 ' says he, " make the best of all puddings." Elated with his good luck, he immediately went out in search of his friend, and saw the giant of learning slowly advancing on a pony. " My dear sir," said Boswell, out of breath with joy, "good news! I have just bespoke, at a comfortable clean inn here, a delicious leg of mutton ; it is now getting ready, and I flatter myself we shall make an excellent meal." Johnson looked pleased "And, I hope," said he, "you have bespoke a pudding." " Sir, you will have your favourite pudding,' 1 replied the other. Johnson got off his pony, and the poor animal, relieved from the giant, smelt its way into the stable. Boswell ushered the doctor into the house, and left him to pre- pare for his delicious treat. Johnson, feeling his coat rather damp, from the mist of the mountains, went into the kitchen and threw his upper garment on a chair before the fire : he sat on the hob, near a little boy who was very busy attending the meat. Johnson occasionally peeped from behind his seat, while the boy kept basting the mutton. Johnson did not like the appearance of his head ; when he shifted the basting ladle from one hand, the other hand was never idle, and the doctor thought at the same time he saw something fall on the meat; upom which he determined to eat no mutton on that day. The dinner announced, Boswell exclaimed, " My dear doctor, here comes the mutton ; what a picture ! done to a turn, and looks so beautifully brown ! " The doctor tittered. After a short pause, Boswell said " I suppose, sir, I am to carve as usual ; what part shall I help you to ? " " My dear Bozzy, I did not like to tell you before, but I am determined to ab- stain from meat to-day." " Oh, dear ! this is a great disappoint- ment," said Bozzy. "Say no more, I shall inake myself ample amends with the pudding." Boswell commenced the attack, and made a first cut at the mutton. " How the gravy runs ; what fine flavoured fat so nice and brown too. Oh, sir, you would have relished this prime piece of mutton." The meat being removed, in came the long-wished-for pudding. The doctor looked joyous, fell eagerly to, and in a few minutes nearly finished all the pud- ding. The table was cleared, and Boswell said " Doctor, while I was eating the mutton, you seemed frequently inclined to laugh ; pray tell me what tickled your fancy ? " The doctor then literally told him all bhat had passed at the kitchen fire, about the boy and the basting. Boswell turned as pale as a parsnip, and, sick of himself and the company, darted out of the room. Somewhat relieved, on returning, he in- sisted on seeing the dirty little rascally Doy, whom he severely reprimanded be- "ore Johnson. The poor boy cried : the doctor laughed. "You little, filthy, snivelling rascal," said Boswell, " when you basted the meat, why did you not put on the cap I saw yo m this morning ? " 86 A VISIT TO THE ASYLUM FOR AGED AND DECAYED PUNSTERS. " I couldn't sir," said the boy. " No, why couldn't you ? " said Boswell. " Because my mammy took it from me to boil the pudding in ! " The doctor gathered up his herculean frame, stood erect, touched the ceiling with his wig, stared, or squinted, indeed, looked any way but the right way. At lat, with mouth wide open (none of the smallest) and stomach heaving, he, with some difficulty, recovered his breath, and, looking at Boswell with dignified con- tempt, he roared out, with the lungs of a stentor, " Mr. Boswell, sir, leave off laugh- ing ; and, under the pain of my eternal displeasure, never utter a single syllable of this abominable adventure to any soul living, while you breathe." THE RIVAL BROOM MAKERS. A thieving fellow, naturally sly, " Cheaper than all the world/' his wares would cry, And on a jack-ass' back such bargains brought 'em ; All siz'd and sorted town-made brooms, For sweeping stables, gardens, hearths, or rooms, So cheap t as quite astonished all who bought 'em I Thus, for a while, he drove a roaring trade, And wisely thought a pretty purse to have made, When on a dismal day, at every door, Where oft he'd sold his dog-cheap goods before, With freezing looks, his customers all told him, Another broom-monger they'd found, That travell'd far and wide the country round, And in all sorts and sizes, under-sold him. Scratching his wig he left 'em, musing deep, With knitted brows up to his ears in thought, To guess, where in the deuce could brooms be bought, That any mortal man could sell so cheap. When lo 1 as through the streets he slowly passes, A voice as clear as raven's, owl's, or ass's, And just as musical, rung in his ears, like thunder, (Half-splitting his thick head, and wig crarnm'd full of wonder,) With roaring out " Cheap brooms t " O'er- joyed he meets His brother brush, and thus the rascal greets : " How, how the devil, brother rogue, do I Hear my old friends sing out a general cry That I'm a knave ? then growl like bears, and tell me, That you do more, Than all the world could ever do before, And, in this self-same broom trade under- sell me. I always thought / sold 'em cheap enough, And well I might for why? ('twixt you and I,) I own, I now and then have stole the stuff"." "Ah I 1 ' (quoth his brother thief, a dog far deeper) " I see, my boy, you haven't half learnt your trade, I go a cheaper way to work than that." "A cheaper!" " Why, ah I always steals mine ready made." A VISIT TO THE ASYLUM FOR AGED AND DECAYED PUNSTERS. fOLiVEB WENDELL HOLMES, M. D., an American phy- sician and author, was born at Cambridge, Mass., Aug. 29, 1809. In 1829 he graduated at Harvard College and entered upon the study of law, but soon adopted his father's profession medicine. He studied in Europe, graduated as doctor of medicine in 1836, and two years after was appointed professor of anatomy and physiology in Dartmouth College; and in 1847 was transferred to the same chair at Harvard, the medical department of which is at Boston, where he has since resided. Dr. Holmes is not only a man of science, but a humorous and satirical poet of much ability. Several of his lyrics also are among the most exquisite produc- ed in America. Most of his poems have been delivered before College literary societies, as Poetry, a metrical Eif ay ; Terpsichore; Urania; and Astraea. In 1875 he contributed his Autocrat of tin Breakfast Table, a con- nected series of prose essays, to the Atlantic Monthly, which was followed by The Professor at the Breakfatt Table,*nA the Poet at the Breakfast Table (1872). A re- markable work is the singular romance, Elsie Vtnner (1861). Published by Houghton, Mifflin And here, alas ! hath laid him in the dirt ; Or else the ways being foul, twenty to one, He 's here stuck in a slough, and overthrown. 'Twas such a shifter, that, if the truth were known, Death was half glad when he had got him down ; For he had any time these ten years full, Dodged with him betwixt Cambridge and The Bull, And surely Death could never have pre- vail'd, Had not his weekly course of carriage fail'd ; But lately finding him so long at home, And thinking now his journey's end was come, And that he had ta'en up his latest inn, In the kind office of a chamberlain Show'd him his room where he must lodge that night, Pull'd off his boots, and took away the light : i On the University carrier, who sickened In the time ->f hi holiday : being forbid to go to London, by rea- eon of the plague. It WM he who established " Hob- ion's Choice." If any ask for him, it shall be said, " Hobson has supp'd and 's newly gone to bed." n. Here lieth one, who did most truly prove That he could never die while he could move : So hung his destiny, never to rot While he mightstill jog on and keep his trot ; Made of sphere-metal, never to decay Until his revolution was at stay. Time numbers motion, yet (without a crime 'Gainst old truth) motion number'd out his time: And, like an engine moved with wheel and weight, His principles being ceased, he ended straight. Rest, that gives all men life, gave him his death, And too much breathing put him out of breath : Nor were it contradiction to affirm, Too long vacation hastened on his term. Merely to drive away the time he sicken'd, Fainted, and died, nor would with ale be quicken'd ; " Nay, 1 ' quoth he, on his swooning bed out-stretch'd, " If I mayn't carry, sure I'll ne'er be fetch'd, But vow, though the cross doctors all stood hearers, For one carrier put down to make six bear- ers." Ease was his chief disease ; and, to judge right, He died for heaviness that his cart went light. His leisure told him that his time was come, And lack of load made his life burden- some, That even to his last breath (there be that aay't), As he were press'd to death, he cried, " More weight ; " But, had his doings lasted as they were, He had been an immortal carrier. Obedient to the moon he spent his date In course reciprocal, and had his fate Link'd to the mutual flowing of the seas, Yet (strange to think) his wain was his in crease : His letters are deliver'd all and gone, Only remains this superscription. JOHN MILTOIT, 1608-1674. 122 HOW PROFESSOR PEPSINE LECTURED THE GHOST. HOW PROFESSOR PEPSINE LEC- TURED THE GHOST. THE little French clock in the mottled walnut-wood case that stood on the mantel-piece of the professor's laboratory, No. 90, Great Decoram Street, had just chimed out midnight in a silvery and musical way, when the professor opened his front door, with a latch-key, and burglariously entered his own house on his early return from an evening party. Now, the professor was a popular lec- turer on Food, Electricity, and other kindred subjects; and being, moreover, a jovial, fat, clever little man, was rather an acquisition at De Beauvoir Town, or any other parties ; for he sang a little, played a little, danced a little, flirted a little, and made a fool of himself a little, yet was by no means a bore ; but, on the con- trary, a decidedly useful old bachelor, and would waltz with ugly girls, chat with talkative old fogies, and take gorgeous dowagers down to the supper-room. And as the professor did not care about being joked at, but, on the contrary, rather liked it ; and, when smiled at, laughed, and twinkled, and beamed through his silvery spectacles, like a merry old glow- worm, every one forgot hia learning and celebrity, and liked the professor heartily. On the night in question the professor was in high spirits, and with some reason. Firstly, he had made two jokes that had set the supper-table in a roar, and had made the jellies shake as if they felt the cold. Secondly, he had waltzed twice with pretty Fanny Ledger, and had re- ceived a smile that gave hopes of more intimate relationship being established some day between the houses of Ledger and Pepsine. Thirdly, a great thought had struck him, as he walked briskly and chirpilyhome, for his celebrated "Treatise on the Merrythought of the Dodo," which was to be read at the Royal Society on the ensuing Wednesday. I do not wish to say that the professor had taken champagne with more people that night than he ought, at Mrs. Fitz- Jones's great annual party though even that would only tend to show the large- ness of the excellent man's benevolence but still I must concede that somehow or other he was abnormally exhilarated, for he danced a cavalier seul as he put his Gibus on the hall-table, and pirouetted as he took off his grey opera wrapper and shawl handkerchief, and lighted his moderator lamp at the flame of the expir- ing night-light. The professor was as brave as most men, but he was that night, it must be con- fessed, a little nervous. It was, at all events, owing to this slight nervous de- rangement, I suppose, that the professor as he lighted his lamp, went down the two steps that led to the kitchen stairs, and peered inquisitively and suspiciously into the empty darkness. But, good soul ! there was nothing to see there save one black- beetle on the wall, and nothing to hear but the watchful drudging tick of the im- prisoned kitchen clock below. The bells were all up at the shutters, and the door- mats were duly removed. Trusty Mrs. Dawson had forgotten nothing. " Pooh ! what a fool I am ! " thought the professor, as he turned the key of his laboratory door, opening out of the hall to the right, and stepped in. Everything was snug and trim, the stove was ruddy, the gas-lamps were just alight, and that was all ; their little blue jets hoarding up the flame with due regard to the quarterly gas bill. How clear and bright the spirit- lamp looked ; how crystalline were the glass bowls ; how ready to go through fire and water, the rough crucibles ; how red the vermilioned horse-shoes of big mag- nets ! In the exhilaration of those after- supper moments the professor felt quite a boy again, and the old boyish delight at the sight of the chemical apparatus came over him with its old power. " Of what use was it to go to bed ? He was sure not to get to sleep after that strong coffee. Why might he not sit up for an hour and work?" " Work." But here a difficulty present- ed itself. What kind of work should Pro- fessor Pepsine select ? There wasn't time to go into " the Dodo's Merrythought," and it wanted daylight to examine " the capillary circulation of the tadpole's tail." But the professor had a will of his own ; he decided in a moment; the struggle was over ; he would yes, that was it pursue his researches on " the gastric juice and the human digestion apparatus." "What's that noise? Oh, only the policeman trying the front door to see if it is properly bolted." The professor sits HOW PROFESSOR PEPSINE LECTURED THE GHOST. 123 down at his table, which is on the door side of the stove, turns up the gas (up it flies like a willing spirit), and sits down to work for an hour at his lecture on the gastric juice. But first he goes (I should mention) to a side-table at the farthest end of the room beyond the stove, to see that that mischievous girl of Mrs. Daw- son's hasn't been touching the thermo- electrical instruments. No, the wires are right. But I think she has been moving the skeleton of the Polish soldier that the doctor keeps for his anatomical lectures, else why is one of the skeleton's legs thrust out before the other, as if our bony friend with the vacant eyes, and the Russian bullet in his skull, had been pro- menading the laboratory in his master's absence ? With a " tut-tut " of impatience the doctor puts the skeleton into its right place in the corner, and makes as he does it quite a castanet clatter with the loose leg-bones ; at last it is right, hanging by the usual ring, safe on its gibbet-like frame, dry, brown, and ghastly as ever. Now the professor settles down at last seriously to work. He carefully culls the best pen in his quiver and nibs it. He takes off the gutta-percha band that en- circles his roll of lecture manuscripts, and he unscrews the top of his inkstand. Ye gods of medicine, be propitious, for the professor has mounted the tripod I mean he has just seated himself with a plop on his red-morocco-leather-covered library chair. Now, he flattens the paper oratori- cally with the back of his hand, and with a slightly pompous hem ! savoring some- what of the British Institution, and with a slight hiccup, begins to read his pre- liminary risumi of the net results of stomachic digestion : " 1. The food is churned, ground, tri- turated, macerated, disintegrated, and liquified." Here the professor stopped, and seri- ously reflected whether those three last oyster patties that followed instead of preceding the liberal helping of Mrs. Fitz- Jones's blanc-mange, were not rather injudicious. " 2. The fats, liberated from their cellu- lar envelope, have become oils." . "I shall suffer for this to-morrow," thought the gay professor. " 3. The sugars have not much altered, for they are crystalline bodies ; but the cane-sugars have turned to grape-sugars, and perhaps a small proportion of them have turned to lactic, or milk acid." " I shall have a headache to-morrow," said the professor's stomachic conscience, quite indifferent to the lecture on the gastric juice. " 4. The vegetable matters have been divided and made pulpy." Here the professor lighted a cheroot. "The albuminous matters have been macerated (how the gas flickers!) the whole has become a pulp.'' " Excellent !" saidthe good little man, rubbing his plump little hands "ex- cellentiy condensed, though I say it. Such should popular science be, and would that such it were ! I shall then perform my extraordinary and expensive experiments of artificial digestion. Taking a Halloa ! what's that noise ? I'm rather nervous to-night taking, I say, the stomach of a newly -killed sheep, ca'refully cleaned and scented, I shall desire my attendant to place into it, bit by bit, an excellent dinner: turtle soup, salmon, salad, a slice of venison, vegetables, beer, wine, salt, catchup, bread, pastry, and finally cheese. I shall then pour in two table-spoonfuls of my artificial gastric juice, and submit the whole to a gentle heat, showing by an electric light which will penetrate the tissues of the bag, the rapid solvency of the whole into one colorless pulp or chyle. This lecture will lead to tremendous discussions in the papers." And here the professor, pausing to take breath, actually rolled about in his chair, at the images his exhilarated imagination had raised ; but he suddenly drew up quite rigid and composed, as an echo of his own laugh seemed to return to him from the bookcase behind the skeleton. Now the professor, though a vain little man, and a trifle of a humbug, had a cer- tain sense of humor, and he was not so wise but that he could laugh at himself. I like him for it, and I think that that merry (perhaps rather champagny) laugh did him great credit. The popular lec- turer looked at the clock. It was ten minutes to one. "Stay till two," he said, "and just read short notes that have drawn up for m' Christmas lecture on ' British and Foreign Wines, their uses and abuses, with special remarks, by request, on South African Port and Betts's Brandy.' Oh that Mr*, 124 HOW PROFESSOR PEPSINE LECTURED THE GHOST. Fitz- Jones's champagne ! there was some- thing in it. What, four glasses of cham " Here the professor again hiccupped. " But the cold air on February night (after supper-parties) does make one hiccup. What is that noise ? " "Let us first consider the bouquet of wines and its causes (that'll do for them). The bouquet or vinous perfume arises from the presence and involvement of a substance called senanthic ether. (Here I must puzzle them a little ; the public like to be puzzled.) Alcohol, you know, ladies and gentlemen, is a hydrate of the oxide of ethyle. Now, if we put '' I am not prepared to say how unin- telligible the learned professor might not have become, had not a certain strange shuffling stir that he heard, or fancied he heard, at this moment struck his attention. It was a sound like the walking of a very lame man, mixed up with the stir and drag of a moving chain and a sort of bony rattle, not at all pleasant at one o'clock in the morning. The sound came from the direction of the bookcase beyond the stove, the little door of which, by-the-by, at this moment suddenly flew open with a jerk, as if frightened. The professor could not see very well into the dark corner, for the bright globe of the gas-lamp shaded it from his eyes. When, however, he turned his head slightly on one side, and thus got rid of what (without a bull) might be perhaps called the overshadowing glare, he caught sight of an extraordinary ob- ject visible, materially visible to his optic nerves, and to the eyes which may be called their windows. There was no doubt about it at all he saw or thought he saw, distinctly, two skeletons sitting and warming their shins in front of the stove door. One must be his laboratory skeleton, for it had the well-known black bullet-mark on the left temple ; but the other was a perfect stranger. The one sat with legs stretched foppishly out, and his long right arm hung over the chair-back; the other cowered over the fire and rubbed his knees, which the fire reflection turned crimson. But the doctor was a brave man, and not a superstitious one, and had in his time done his best to expose the folly of table- rapping, and of the stuffed hands and lazy tongs, and all the rest of it. He did not, therefore, believe what he saw, but attri- buted it at once to a natural cause. All he said was, as he rose and pointed at the skeletons, these simple words of common sense : "Diseased state of my retina." Here the Polish ghost rose, and intro- duced his friend with a wave of the hand as " the Guy's Hospital skeleton." Now, I may as well premise here that I am not myself answerable for the exact truth of what the skeleton said, as the doctor could never make up his mind afterwards whether the skeletons actually spoke, or whether the replies apparently addressed to him by those strange appari- tions were not rather replies made by his inner consciousness to his own questions. " Binocular deception," said the doctor, occasioned by temporary vinous affection of the optic nerve very common after dinner." At this moment, the Polish ghost coughed in the impatient way in which people do who wish to edge a word in. The professor continued in a contemptu- ous tone, feeling his pulse deliberately as he spoke, and making a note on his blot- ting pad of its condition " at five minutes to one, Thursday, February 15, 1862.'' "The blood heated; the nervous sys- tem by some subtle cause partly thrown off its balance brain locally excited in the organs of caution it's all that infernal champagne of Mrs. Fitz-Jones's that's it a species of waking nightmare." Here the professor threw himself unconsciously into a lecturing attitude, and struck the table with a heavy ruler. The ghost, getting rather impatient and a little nettled, advanced to the table, and putting one hand on his hips oratorically, stretched the other deprecatingly towards the professor, whose courage increased every minute, the more scientifically heat- ed he got. " Just one moment,'' said the ghost, " if I may be permitted by my friend from Guy's." " I have devoted much time to these cases," said the professor (he was one of those men you constantly meet, who have always " devoted much time " to what- ever subject you are discussing), "and I know all the precedents; they are all classified: there was Dr. Ferriar, and Monsieur Nicolai, the celebrated book- seller of Berlin." HOW PROFESSOR PEPSINE LECTURED THE GHOST. 125 ' I often meet him," said the ghost. " About the year 1791," said the pro- fessor, treading down all interruptions, " Nicolai began to be visited by crowds of ghosts." " I was one of them," said the Polish ghost. The skeleton from Guy's nodded, and bleared through a quite superfluous eye-glass, to indicate that he was another. " Crowds of phantasm ata," continued Pepsine, " who moved and acted before him, who addressed him, and to whom he spoke without fear; knowing that they were mere symptoms of a certain de- rangement of health, such as suicidal feelings, and indeed all melancholy, arises from." " Ladies and gentlemen," said the ghost, entreating silence, and actually winking slily at the professor. " Silence, sir ! You are a mere phan- tom, the result of hectic symptoms, febrile and inflammatory disorders, inflammation of the brain, nervous irritability, and only fools and sceptics have any belief in you !" " But one word." " Not a word ; I know all your re- lations; there is Dr. Gregory's old hag, who used to strike people with her crutch." " My grandmother on my father's side," said the ghost, consequentially. " Mother Shipton was my aunt."' "Sorry for it, for she was no great things. I've seen too many ghosts, sir, as some great person once said, ever to be- lieve in them a pack of rubbish. The man who believes in a ghost, I tell you, ought to be sent to an hospital." The quiet dittoing ghost suggested " Guy's," and smiled. " I know the ghost in the tamboured waistcoat, and the skeleton that looked between the bed-curtains and frightened the doctor,'' said the professor. " Dare n't look behind you, though I " said the Polish ghost, in a nagging and malicious way. At this sneer the ghost from Guy's rubbed his knees harder than ever, and laughed till he rocked again. "Daren't I?" said the doctor, and turned quietly round ; then snapping back again, and catching the gentleman from Poland sliding forward to try and pull his coat and frighten him, he de- liberately snatched up his ruler, and hit khe Pole a rattling blow on his bare skull ; at which the Pole grew angry, and the friend from Guy's laughed more than ever. "How about Nicolai's ghost? That's a settler, I think," said the Pole, stepping back to a safe distance from the table, and thrusting in the remark spitefully. " The mere fancy of a possible event. Remember the ghost that the captain sat down upon in the arm-chair, and then followed into bed eh ? Halloa ! what, not a word to fling at a dog what, quite chapfallen ! Sir, I shall put you in my next lecture." " Don't, don't! " said both ghosts, in a whining voice : " we'll go quietly away if you promise not to." " Miserable impostors, begone I I know all your petty tricks the voice that called Doctor Johnson the young ensign who died of over-smoking at Kitchemegar, and that same night went and terrified his poor sister, for no reason in the world, at 999 Gower Street. Bah !" " But, my dear sir, a moment's patience; let me put one argument before you. Look at the haunted houses in Great Britain, the rooms where no one can be induced to sleep ; look at the clashing of our chains, the white shrouds, the groans, the " As the Polish skeleton here got out of breath, his lungs being evidently out of order, the professor slipped in, and con- tinued his honest tirade. "Stuff about your haunted houses noises, all rats and draughts unnatural deaths, bad sewers rattling chains, rusty weathercocks and all the rest, the tricks of deceiving servants, smugglers, or thieves." Here the ghost from Poland shrugged his shoulders, and looked piteously at the ghost from Guy's; then both shrugged their shoulders noisily. "But the wet ensign who comes and tells his sister he is drowned at Cutche- mabobbery, in the Madras Presidency ? " "Ah! what about the wet ensign?" said the ghost from Guy's, backing up his friend's query in a posing and rather hurt sort of way. " Hang the wet ensign ! An idiotic sister nervous with incessant late hours, too much eau de Cologne, and the peru- sal of a sensation novel, has apprehen- sions about her brother in India, eventu- ally goes to sleep over the piano, and dreams she sees him dripping." 126 KING JOHN AND THE ABBOT. " But she did n't dream," said Poland "No, she didn't dream," said Guy's, re- eorting again to his eye-glass. " But I say she did," said the professor. "She did n't." "She did." "She did n't." The skeleton from Guy's here clenched his fist, but the ghost from Poland groaned. " It's no use," said the latter. " Not a bit," said the former. " On my word of honor, my dear sir," said the ghost from Poland, trying once more, and laying his hand on the vacuity where his heart ought to have been, " it was not a dream." "It was not a dream, on my con- science," said Guy's. "Now look you here, gentlemen," said the doctor, getting red in the face, and seriously angry, "I have borne this, I think, long enough. I have proved to you both that you don't exist ; why don't you o away civilly like geu'lemen?" (The octor rather slurred the pronunciation of this word). " You are impostors, scare- crows, mere bubbles; air, vapor, thought. Begone, or, I give you fair notice, if you are not off in five minutes by that clock, I will ring the bell, fire off a double-barrel gun, spring a rattle, throw open the front door, and alarm the street I" This threat seemed to have a great effect on the two skeletons. Guy's sat down and warmed his shin-bones again in a de- sponding manner, but on Poland touch- ing his shoulder, they both got up and began to whisper together in a violent and agitated way. They were evidently going. # * * * * * The doctor fell suddenly into a deep sleep. He did not awake until Betsy Jane, the housemaid, came in to " do " the room at seven A.M. That fair vestal found the gas burning, and the doctor fast asleep in his arm-chair. In alluding to the event afterwards, Dr. Pepsine's friends always called the vision and sleep the result of " over-study ; " but his enemies (and what great man is not troubled with such vermin?) called it "too much of Mrs. Fitz-Jones's cham- pagne." WALTER THOBNBUBT, b. 1828. KING JOHN AND THE ABBOT. AN ancient story lie tell you anon Of a notable prince, that was called King John ; And he ruled England with maine and with might, For he did great wrong, and maintein'd little right. And lie tell you a story, a story so merrye, Concerning the Abbot of Canterburye ; How for his house-keeping, and high re- nowne, They rode poste for him to fair London towne. An hundred men, the king did heare say, The abbot kept in his house every day ; And fifty golde chaynes, without any doubt. In velvet coates waited the abbot about. How now, father abbot, I heare it of thee, Thou keepest a farre better house than mee, And for thy house-keeping and high renowne, I feare thou work'st treason against my crown. My liege, quo' the abbot, I would it were knowne, I never spend nothing but what is my owne ; And I trust your grace will doe me no deere For spending of my owne true-gotten geere. Yes, yes, father abbot, thy fault it is highe, And now for the same thou needest must dye; For except thou canst answer me questions three, Thy head shall be smitten from thy bodie. And first, quo' the king, when I'm in this stead, With my crowne of golde so faire on my head, Among all my liege-men, so noble of birthe, Thou must tell me to one penny what I am worthe. Secondlye, tell me, without any doubt, How soone I may ride the whole world about ; And at the third question thou must not shrink, But tell me here truly what I do think. KING JOHN AND THE ABBOT. 127 O, these are hard questions for my shallow witt, Nor I cannot answer your grace as yet ; But if you will give me but three weekes space, He do my endeavour to answer your grace. Now three weeks space to thee will I give, And that is the longest time thou hast to ; live; For if thou dost not answer my questions three, Thy lands and thy livings are forfeit to mee. Away rode the abbot, all sad at that word, And 'he rode to Cambridge and Oxenford ; But never a doctor there was so wise, That could with his learning an answer de- vise. Then home rode the abbot, of comfort so cold, And he mett his shepheard agoing to fold ; How now, my lord abbot, you are welcome home, What newes do you bring us from good King John ? Sad newes, sad newes, shepheard, I must give: That I have but three days more to live ; For if I do not answer him questions three, My head will be smitten from my bodie. The first is to tell him there in that stead, With his crowne of golde so fair on hia head, Among all his liege-men so noble of birth, To within one penny of what he is worth. The seconde, to tell him, without any doubt, How soone he may ride this whole world about ; And at the third question I must not shrinke, But tell him there truly what he does thinke. Now cheare up, sire abbot ! did you never hear yet, That a fool he may learne a wise man witt ? Lend me horse, and serving-men, and your apparel, And I'll ride to London to answere your quarrel. Nay, frowne not, if it hath bin told unto mee, I am like your lordship as ever may bee ; And if you will but lend me your gowne, There is none shall knowe us in fair London town. Now horses and serving-men thou shall have, With sumptuous array most gallant and brave ; With crozier and miter, and rochet, and cope, Fit to appeare 'fore our fader the pope. Now welcome, sire abbot, the king he did say, 'Tis well thou'rt come back to keepe thy day; For and if thou canst answer my questions three, Thy life and thy living both saved shall bee. And first, when thou seeth me here in this stead, With my crowne of golde so fair on my head, Among all my liege-men so noble of birthe, Tell me to one penny what I am worth. For thirty pence our Saviour was sold Among the false Jewes, as I have bin told' And twenty-nine is the worth of thee, For I thinke thou art one penny worser than hee. The king he laughed, and swore by St. Bittel, I did not think I had been worth so little ! Now secondly tell me, without any doubt, How soone I may ride this whole world about. You must rise with the sun, and ride with the same, Until the next morning he riseth againe ; And then your grace need not make any doubt But in twenty-four hours you'll ride it about. The king he laughed, and swore by St. Jone, I did not think it could be gone so soone 1 Now from the third question thou must not shrinke, But tell me here truly what I do thinke. Yes, that I shall do, and make your grace merry : You thinke I'm the abbot of Canterbury ; But I'm his poor shepheard, as plain you may see, That am come to beg pardon for him and for mee. The king he laughed, and swore by the masse, He make thee lord abbot this day in his place I 128 AT THE PIANO. Now naye, my liege, be not in such speed, For alacke I can neither write ne reade. Four nobles a week, then, I will give thee, For this merry jest thou hast showne unto mee : And tell the old abbot, when thou comest home, Thou hast brought him a pardon from good King John. THE PERCY RELIQUES. COMPLIMENTS. THE Marquis of Santerre who was blind, went to hear the opera of " Euelinde,' 1 which caused a furore at Paris, in the reign of Louis XV., and being very much pleased, asked his attendant who wrote it. '"Monsieur Poinsinet," was the reply. " I should like to speak to him," said the Marquis. So, afterward, in the crush room, Mon- sieur Poinsinet was introduced to the blind nobleman, who embraced him with effusion and said : " My dear sir, accept my warmest thanks for the pleasure you have aiforded me. Your opera is full of beauty, the music is delicious. Oh, what a misfortune that you had to set it to such trashy words !" Now, unfortunately, it was the libretto, and not the music, of which poor Mon- sieur Poinsinet was the author. Louis XIV., who, like many humble rhymesters, somewhat overrated his poeti- cal powers, showed a copy of verses to Boileau, and asked his candid opinion of them. " Ah, sire," says the poet, " I am more convinced than ever that nothing is im- possible to your majesty ; you desired to write some poor rhymes, and you have succeeded in making them positively de- testable ! " A DESIEABLE HORSE. "YES," said the driver of the car to the man who stood on the steps, " she's a mighty nice mare for car work least ways to look at. Kick ? Well, you bet. Since I've had her she 's removed the insides from two horses hitched in with her ; she's caved in her stall times enough to make one carpenter rich, and livened up more'n one passenger. Ee- member one case in particular : Nice old gent with youngsters, goin' out for a Sun- day picnic, had a basket of lunch covered up with a table-cloth. Jest as he was gettin' off, the mare worked round when I wasn't lookin', and she fetched that basket one clatter with both feet I don't rightly know but she got in all four any- ways there was lunch for everybody with- in ten rods, whether he wanted or not ; the paper boys mostly did. Think the old man saved the handle of a ham and the cork of one bottle. Sich a nice-look- ing beast as she is, too. Why, that mare has been bought not less'n three times, 'cause she was sech a gentle-lookin' lady's horse. Well, it's good for doctors and wagon-makers, anyhow. Always staves up the family and gets back into the team in less'n a week. Never was broke, she wasn't, and never will be until she falls off a house." AT THE PIANO. IT was a young woman, with as many white flounces around her as the planet Saturn has rings. She gave the music- stool a whirl or two, and fluffed down in it like a twirl of soap-suds in a hand basin. Then she pushed up her cuffs as if she was going to fight for the champion's belt. Then she worked her wrists and hands to limber 'em, I suppose and spread out her fingers until they looked as though they would pretty much cover the key-board, from the growling end down to the little squeaky one. Then these two hands of hers made a jump at the keys as if they were a couple of tigers coming down upon a flock of black and white sheep, and the piano gave a great howl, as if its tail had been trod upon. Dead stop so still you could hear your hair growing. Then another howl, as if the cow had two tails, and you had trod- den on both of 'em at once, and then a grand clatter and scramble and string of jumps, up and down, back and forward, one hand over the other like a stampede of rats and mice more than anything I call music. Oliver Wendell Holmes. SIR ROGER DE COVERLET. 129 SIR ROGER DE COVERLET. BY THE SPECTATOR. [JOSEPH ADDISON, the eldest son of Lan- celot Addison, D.D., Dean of Lichfield, was born at Milston, near Ambros-Burv, Wilt- shire, May 1, Io72. On finishing his pre- liminary studies at Amesbury and Salis- bury, he became an inmate of the Charter- house, where he made the acquaintance of Richard Steele, afterwards his associate in literary work and fame. At the age of fif- teen he entered King's College, Oxford, where by his diligent study of the classics he is said to have "acquired an elegant Latin style before he arrived at that age in which lads usually begin to write good Eng- lish." Some verses addressed by him at the age of twenty-two years, to Dryden, elicited the praise of the great poet himself. His growing reputation was advanced by a trans- lation of a part of Virgil's Georgics ; by a critical preface to Dryden's version of the Georgics; and by a versified criticism on some of the principal English poets, ad- dressed to Sacheverell. In 1695 a poem addressed to King William, and dedicated to Lord Keeper Somers, secured for him a pension of 300 per annum. The publica- tion about this time of his Latin poems, inscribed to Mr. Montague (afterwards Lord Halifax), Chancellor of the Exchequer, pro- cured him another influential friend. The question of his life-career now pressed for a decision. His original intention had been to take holy orders, but, partly owing to the counsel of Lord Halifax, this purpose was abandoned. It is an undetermined question whether ambition, kindled by the brilliant political prospects opening before him, or a conscientious shrinking from a sacred office for whose proper exercise he felt disquali- fied, had most to do with this grave decision. In 1699, Addison visited Italy. The death of King William in 1702 brought a new set of statesmen into power, and the enthusias- tic young traveller was obliged, by the loss of his pension, suddenly to return to Eng- land and to consider how he might best secure a livelihood. After the battle of Blenheim, the Lord Treasurer Godolphin inquired for a poet to celebrate the event. Lord Halifax named Addison, who being invited, accepted the task and discharged it o satisfactorily that he was appointed Com- VOL. ii. w. H. missioner of Appeals, and, in 1706, Under- secretary of State. His able pen was of great value to the ministry. In 1709, he accompanied the Marquis of Wharton to Ireland as Secretary. To the Toiler, which was started by Steele in 1709, Addison soon became an important contributor. He also wrote five articles for The Wliig Examiner, the first number of which appeared Sept. 14, 1710. The Toiler was discontinued Jan. 2, 1711, and on the first of the ensuing March the Spectator made its appearance. With this famous periodical, which is still read with delight, Addison's name is inseparably linked. His contributions are signed " C. L. I," or " 0," the letters together forming the word "Clio." Addison also contributed freely to The Guardian, begun Mar. 12, 1713. His tragedy of Cato, which was acted for thirty, five consecutive nights, appeared in 1713; and in the same year he published his political squib, " The Trial and Conviction of Count Tariff." His verses to Sir God- frey Kneller, and some minor pieces, were printed in 1714. In 1716 Addison married the dowager Countess of Warwick, a union which by no means increased his happiness. He died June 17, 1719, aged 47 years. " Before he expired, he sent for his step-son, the Earl of Warwick, then in his 21st year, and while the young nobleman stood at his bedside to receive his commands, grasping his hand, he said he had called him that he might see with what peace a Christian could die. He left an only daughter by the Coun- tess." Dr. Johnson pays this lofty tribute to Addison: "He not only made the proper use of wit himself, but taught it to others, and from his time it has been generally subservient to the cause of reason and of truth. No greater felicity can genius attain than that of having purified intellectual pleasure, separated mirth from indecency, and wit from licentiousness; of having taught a succession of writers to bring ele- gance and gayety to the aid of goodness; and, if I may use expressions yet more aw- ful, of having 'turned many to righteous- ness.' " Macaulay says : "As a moral satirist, he [Addison] stands unrivalled. . . In wit, properly so called, Addison was not inferior to Cowley or Butler. . . The still higher faculty of invention, Addison possessed in still larger measure. . . But what shall we say of Addison's humor? . We own 9 130 SIR ROGER DE COVERLET. that it is in our opinion of a more delicious flavor than that of either Swift or Voltaire." Macaulay regards him, moreover, " not only as the greatest of the English essayists, but as the forerunner of the great English nov- elists." " In refined and delicate humor," says Prof. C. D. Cleveland, " Addison has no superior, if he has any equal, in English prose literature." By common consent, the most delightful and original of all Addison's productions is that series of sketches in the Spectator, of which Sir Roger de Coverley is the central figure. " Sir Roger is an absolute creation ; the gentle yet vivid imagination, the gay and cheerful spirit of humor, the keen, shrewd observation, and fine raillery of foibles which Addison has displayed in this felicitous characterization, render it a work of pure genius." SIB RICHARD STEELE was born in Dub- lin in the year 1671. He was educated at the Charter-house school, and afterwards at Merton College, Oxford. Leaving college without taking a degree, he became an en- sign in the horse guards. He rose to the rank of a captain, but his military life was gay and dissipated. In the midst of this profligate course he wrote The Christian Hero, a religious treatise composed partly with the view of checking his own irregu- larities, which it failed to do. His next literary productions were comedies : The Funeral, or Grief d la Mode, appeared in 1702; The Tender Husband, in 1703; and The Lying Lover, in 1704. About this time he married a rich West Indian lady who survived the union only a few months ; and in 1706 he received the appointment of Gazetteer, with a salary of 300, and the post of gentleman usher to prince George, with a salary of 100. In 1707 he married a Welsh lady, Mary Scurlock, who had a fortune of 400 a year ; but extravagant living soon involved the pair in financial difficulties which became chronic. In 1709 Steele began The Tatler, which was issued thrice a week, and in March, 1711 (two months after the discontinuance of The Tatler), he launched the Spectator, a daily journal, which had an extraordinary suc- cess, and whose brilliant contents now form a part of the English classics. In 1713 he started the Guardian. To each of these periodicals Addison was a leading con- tributor. The Lover, The Reader, and other similar periodical ventures were short-lived. Steele took an active part in the political affairs of his day, being an ardent Whig. He was a member of the House of Com- mons, but was expelled from that body on account of his pamphlets,- The Crisis and The Englishman. When his party returned to power, after the death of Queen Anne, Steele obtained an appointment in the king's household and was again elected to Parliament. In 1717 he was named one of the Commissioners for the forfeited estates in Scotland. In 1722 his successful comedy of The Conscious Lovers was produced. His health began to decline about this time, and he spent the last three years of his life in retirement in Wales, where he died Sept. 21, 1729. Steele's literary fame rests chiefly on his essays. Of the contents of The Tatler, The Spectator and of The Guar- dian, he contributed, respectively 188, 240, and 82 papers. It is Steele's misfortune to be almost invariably put in comparison with Addison ; and yet it has been truly remarked that if in taste and delicate humor he was Addison's inferior, he was fully his equal in invention and insight into human character and motives. Hazlitt says : " I am far from wishing to depreciate Addison's talents, but I am anxious to do justice to Steele, who was, I think, upon the whole, a less artificial and more original writer. The humorous de- scriptions of Steele resemble loose sketches or fragments of a comedy ; those of Addi- son are rather comments or ingenious para- phrases on the original text." " The great and appropriate praise of Steele," says Dr. Drake, " is to have been the first who, after the licentious age of Charles the Second, endeavored to introduce the Virtues on the stage." " Steele's Conscious Lovers, 1 ' 1 adds Hallam, " is the first comedy which can be called moral." EUSTACE BUDGELL, a son of Gilbert Budgell, D. D., was born at St. Thomas, near Exeter, England, in 1685, and was educated at Christ Church, Oxford. Al- though destined by his father for the bar, Budgell's taste for literature overruled that intention. On removing to London, he sought an intimacy with Addison. who was a first cousin of his mother, and Addison, being then Secretary to the Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, gave him a clerkship in his of- fice. His talents made him other influen- tial friends, but a captious and quarrelsome temper and an inordinate vanity marred alike the success and the happiness of his life. Budgell contributed several papers to The Tatler before he had attained hig SIR ROGER DE COVERLET. 131 majority ; and was the author of no less than thirty-seven papers in The Spectator, and of two in The Guardian. He was a prominent contributor to The Craftsman, and, towards the end of 1732, he started The Bee, a weekly magazine, which was continued two years. His translation, from the Greek, of Theophrastus's Characters was warmly commended. His humorous epi- logue to Ambrose Philips's Distressed Mother was one of the most popular pro- ductions of the day ; but, as in the case of his illustrious associates, Addison and Steele, Budgell's fame is due to his essays especially to those in The Spectator. He died by his own hand, under a cloud, in 1736. Budgell is justly praised for "en- tering with perfect accuracy into the con- ception and keeping of a character so origi- nal as that of Sir Roger de Coverley." Good examples of his felicity in this regard are afforded by Chapters X. and XXV., below. The larger number of the papers of which Sir Roger de Coverley is made up, are by Addison, and his authorship may be as- sumed, wherever special credit is not given to another.] ADVERTISEMENT. THE aim of the Spectator, as defined by Dr. Johnson, was to teach the minuter decencies and inferior duties ; to regulate the practice of daily conversation ; to cor- rect those depravities which are rather ridiculous than criminal, and remove those grievances which if they produce no lasting calamities, impress hourly vexation." The machinery adopted by the Spectator to accomplish this object- to soften the harshness of his censures, to disarm the sharpest strictures of the smallest offence was a club ; the members of which after the grave, taciturn, ubi- quitous, keen, but kindly, Spectator him- self were representatives of the various classes of society whose faults and ab- surdities rendered them most in need of pertinent admonition. To the coarse, in- temperate, ignorant and arrogant country esquires of that day, the gentle mentor spoke through Sir Roger de Coverley ; no model magistrate, or self-righteous censor ; but a hearty, humorous, plain old gentle- man one of themselves with enough of their foibles, tastes and prejudices to win their sympathies and to charm them into reformation. None of the characters were elaborated with so much care to none was imparted such thorough completeness, as that of Sir Roger de Coverley ; between which (to quote a saying of Horace Wai pole) and Sir John Falstaff though a wide in- terval nothing like it exists in literature for truthfulness and finish. Sir Roger's eccentricities do not, as some have written, Disturb the consistency of the character : on the contrary they strengthen its in- dividuality. If they be discords, instead of jarring, they enrich the harmony. They are precisely the humors of an honest, elderly, sensitive bachelor, whose early history had been dashed with the romance of his having beea jilted. Sir Roger does nothing and says nothing which might not have been said and done, in his day, by any warm-hearted rustic gentleman who had been irredeemably crossed in love. Indeed, turning thus from Nature to the consummate Art which copied her, it can scarcely be de- nied that the character owes its immortality to the quaint traits of extravagance which have been stigmatized as blemishes : with- out impairing the efficacy of Sir Roger as a special admonitory example to the country esquire of the reign of Queen Anne, his oddities were destined to rivet the interest and excite the affectionate smile of all readers in all time. The essays which separate the Coverley papers from one another, however exqui- site in themselves, break the spell which binds the reader while lingering over the benevolence or humor of the Worcester- shire baronet. Even when arranged more conveniently in a sequence, as in this book, it is not pleasing to remember that so captivating an identity was originated and wrought out by " several hands." Every fresh lineament of the good Sir Roger so strengthens the sense of Unity, that we rather love to be deluded with the notion that the whole was the work of one mind. With an art so perfect that it conceals art, we prefer the ignorance which is our bliss, to the knowledge that reveals the companionships, contrivances, or agonies of authorcraft. Though cu- riosity is gratified, sentiment is hurt, when we are told that the outlines of Sir Roger de Coverley were imagined and partly traced by Sir Richard Steele ; that the coloring and more prominent linea- ments were elaborated by Joseph Addi- 132 SIR ROGER DE COVERLET. son ; thar some of the back -ground was put in by Eustace Budgell ; and, that the portrait was defaced by either Steele or Thomas Tickell with a deformity which Addison repudiated, and which is not here reproduced. The sum of the account in hard figures stands thus : Sir Roger de Coverley's adventures, opinions, and conversations occur in thirty of the Spectator's papers. Of these, Addison wrote twenty, BudgeH two, and Steele eight ; if it be certain that he was the author of the obnoxious por- tion of No. 410; which has also been attributed to Tickell. But over this divided labor, all evidence proves that Addison exercised a rigid and harmonising editorial vigilance. In the words of an accurate critic, " Addison took the rude outlines into his own hands, retouched them, colored them ; and is, in truth, the creator of the Sir Roger de Coverley and the Will Honeycomb with whom we are all familiar." The habits of Addison and Steele were those of a close literary partnership. What Steele's quick impatient genius planned, Addison's rich taste and thoughtful industry executed: what were, and would perhaps have ever remained, dreams in Steele's brain, came out distinct realities from under Addison's hand, Between them Pope's maxim was fully obeyed : " To write with fervor and correct with phlegm." Steele supplied some of the fervor: Addi- son all the finish, all the phlegm. But, it must be repeated, those who love Sir Roger de Coverley love not these ungenial revelations. They like to feel that the fine-hearted creation comes from a single source; from those nicely-ba- lanced stores of touching pathos and re- fined humor ; of sound common-sense and polished wit ; of keen satire and kind words ; of sharp observation and genial description which exist in the single gen- tleman who paints his own portrait in the first pages, and who is known wherever English letters can be read, as "THE SPECTATOR." THE AUTHOR'S PREFACE. Nonfumum exfulgore, ted exfumo dare lucem Cogitai, ut specioia dthinc miracula promat. HOR. I HAVE observed, that a reader seldom peruses a book with pleasure, until h knows whether the writer of it be a black or a fair man, of a mild or choleric dis- position, married or a bachelor, with other particulars of the like nature, that con- duce very much to the right understand- ing of an author. To gratify this curiosity, which is so natural to a reader, I desig'n this paper and my next as prefatory dis- courses to my following writings, and shall give some account in them of the several persons that are engaged in this work. As the chief trouble of compiling digesting, and correcting will fall to my share, I must do myself the justice to open the work with my own history. I was born to a small hereditary estate, which according to the tradition of the village where it lies, was bounded by the same hedges and ditches in William the conqueror's time that it is at present, and has been delivered down from father to son whole and entire without the loss or ac- quisition of a single field or meadow, during the space of six hundred years. There runs a story in the family, that my mother dreamt that she had brought forth a judge : Whether this might proceed from a law-suit which was then depending in the family, or my father's being a justice of the peace, I cannot determine ; for I am not so vain as to think it presaged any dignity that I should arrive at in my future life, though that was the interpretation which the neighborhood put upon it. The gravity of my behaviour at my very first appear- ance in the world, seemed to favor my mother's dream ; for, as she has often told me, I threw away my rattle before I was two months old, and would not make use of my coral until they had taken away the bells from it. Aa for the rest of my infancy, there being nothing in it remarkable, I shall pass it over in silence. I find that, during my nonage, I had the reputation of a very sullen youth, but was always a favorite of my schoolmaster, who used to say that my parts were solid, and would wear well. I had not been long at the university, be- fore I distinguished myself by a most pro- found silence ; for during the space of eight years, excepting in the public ex- ercises of the college, I scarce uttered the quantity of an hundred words ; and indeed do not remember that I ever spoke three sentences together in my whole life. Whilst I was in tJtiis learned body, I ap- SIR ROGER DE COVERLET. 133 piled myself with so much diligence to my studies, that there are very' few celebrated books, either in the learned or the modern tongues, which I am not acquainted with. Upon the death of my father, I was re- solved to travel into foreign countries, and therefore left the university, with the character of an odd unaccountable fellow, that had a great deal of learning, if I would but show it. An insatiable thirst after knowledge carried me into all the countries of Europe, in which there was any thing new or strange to be seen ; nay, to such a degree was my curiosity raised, that having read the controversies of some great men concerning the antiquities of Egypt, I made a voyage to Grand Cairo, on purpose to take the measure of a Pyra- mid : And as soon as I had set myself right in that particular, returned to my native country with great satisfaction. I have passed my latter years in this city, where I am frequently seen in most public places, though there are not above half a dozen of my select friends that know me ; of whom my next paper shall give a more particular account. There is no place of general resort, wherein I do not often make my appearance ; some- times I am seen thrusting my head into a round of politicians at Will's, and listening with great attetfoion to the narratives that are made in those little circular audiences. Sometimes I smoke a pipe at Child's, and whilst I seem attentive to nothing but the postman, overhear the conversation of every table in the room. I appear on Sunday nights at St. James's Coffee-house, 1 and sometimes join the little committee of politics in the inner- room, as one who comes there to hear and improve. My face is likewise very well known at the Grecian, the Cocoa- Tree, and in the Theatres both of Drury- Lane and the Hay-Market. I have been taken for a merchant upon the Exchange for above these ten years, and sometimes pass for a Jew in the assembly of stock- jobbers at Jonathan's : In short, where- ever I see a cluster of people, I alwaya mix with them, though I never open my lips but in my own club. Thus I live in the world rather as a spectator of mankind, than as one of the species; by which means:;! have made myself a speculative statesman, soldier, merchant, and artizan, without ever med- dling with any practical part in life. I am very well versed in the theory of a hus- band or a father, and can discern the errors in the economy, business, and diversion of others, better than those who are engaged in them ; as standers-by dis- cover blots, which are apt to escape those who are in the game. I never espoused any party with violence, and am resolved to observe an exact neutrality between the whigs and tories, unless I shall be forced to declare myself by the hostilities of either side. In short, I have acted in all the parts of my life as a looker-on, which is the character I intend to preserve in this paper. Th,3re are three very material pointr which I have not spoken to in this paper and which, for several important reasons, I must keep to myself, at least for some time : I mean, an account of my name, 1 Tnis COFFEK-HOCTE. The chief places of resort were coffee and chocolate houses, in which some men almost lived, insomuch that whoever wished to find a gentle- man commonly asked, not where he resided, but which coffee-house he frequented? Here the proud nobleman or country squire were not to be distinguished from the genteel thief and daring highwayman. " Pray Sir," ays Aimwell to Gibbet, in Farquhar's Beaux Stratagem, " ha'n't I seen your face at Will's coffee-house ? " The robber's reply is : " Yes, Sir ; and at White's too." The coffee houses, from the time of their commence- ment in 1652, served Instead of newspapers : they were mrenx for political discussion. Journalism was then in its infancy ; the first daily newspaper (The Daily Courant) Wts scarcely two years old, and was too small to contain ucn news ; as were the other Journals then extant. Hence the fiercely contested polemics of the period were either waged in single pamphlets or in periodicals started to advocate or to oppose gome particular ques- tion, and laid down when that was settled. The peace- ful leading article and mild letter " to the Editor " had not come into vogue as safety valves for the escape of overboiling party zeal ; and the hot blood, roused in public rooms to quarrelling pitch, was too often cooled by the rapier's point. Each coffee-house had its political or literary speci- alty ; and of those enumerated in the present paper, Will's was the rendezvous for the wits and poets. It was named after William Urwin, its proprietor, and was situated at No. 1 Bow Street, at the corner of Great Russell Street, Covent Garden ; the coffee-room was on the first floor, the lower part having been occupied as a retail shop. Dryden's patronage and frequent appearance made the reputation of the house, which was afterwards maintained by other celebrated characters. It was from Will's coffee-house that the Tatler dated his poetry. Child's was in St. Paul's Churchyard. Its vicinity ta the Cathedral and Doctor's Commons, made it the report 134 SIB ROGER DE COVERLEY. my age, and my lodgings. I must con- fess, I would gratify my reader in any thing that is reasonable ; but as for these three particulars, though I am sensible they might tend very much to the embel- lishment of my paper, I cannot yet come to a resolution of communicating them to the public. They would indeed draw me out of that obscurity which I have enjoyed for many years, and expose me in public places to several salutes and civili- ties, which have been always very dis- agreeable to me ; for the greatest pain I can suffer, is the being talked to, and being stared at. It is for this reason likewise, that I keep my complexion and dress as very great secrets ; though it is not impossi- ble, but I may make discoveries of both in the progress of the work I have undertaken. After having been thus particular upon myself, I shall in to-morrow's paper give an account of those gentlemen who are concerned with me in this work : for, as I have before intimated, a plan of it is laid and concerted (as all other matters of importance are) in a club. However, as my friends have engaged me to stand in of the clergy and other ecclesiastical loungers. In one respect Child's was superseded by the Chapter in Pater- noster Bow. The St. James's was the Spectator's head-quarters. It stood at the end of Pall Mall of which it commanded a perspective view near to, if not upon the site of what is now No. 87 St. James's Street, and close to Ozinda's chocolate house. These were the great party rallying places ; " a Whig," says de Foe, " would no more go to the Cocoa Tree or Ozinda's than a Tory would be seen at St. James's." Swift, however, frequented the latter during his sojourn in London, 1710-13; till fighting in the van of the Tory ranks, he could no longer show face there, and was obliged to relinquish the society of those literary friends, whom, though Whigs, he cherished. The Grecian, in Devereux Court, derived its name from a Greek named Constantino, who introduced a new and improved method of making coffee, from the land of Epicurus. Perhaps from this cause, or from having set up his apparatus close to the Temple, he drew the learned to his rooms. " All accounts of learning," saith the Tatler, " shall be under the title of the Grecian." The glory of the Grecian outlasted that of the rest, and K remained a tavern till 1843. Jonathan's, in Change Alley, the general mart for itock-jobbers, was the precursor of the present Stock Exchange in Capel Court. The hero of Mrs. Centlivre's comedy, "A Bold Stroke for a Wife," performed at Jonathan's his most successful deception on the city guardian of his mistress. The word Club as applied to convivial meetings, it de- the front, those who have a mind to cor- respond with me, may direct their letters to the Spectator, at Mr. Buckley's in Lit- tle Britain. For I must further acquaint the reader, that though our club meets only on Tuesdays and Thursdays, we have appointed a committee to sit every night, for the inspection of all such papers as may contribute to the advancement of the public weal. THE SPECTATOR. London, Thursday, March 1, 1710-11. CHAPTER I. SIR ROGER AND THE CLUB. 1 Ast alii tax Etplure* uno conclamant ore. Juv. THE first of our Society is a gentleman of Worcestershire, of ancient descent, a baronet, his name Sir Eoger de Coverley. His great-grandfather was inventor of that famous country dance which is called after him. All who know that shire are very well acquainted with the parts and merits of Sir Koger. 1 He is a gentleman rived from the Saxon cleafan, to divide, "because," say Skinner, " the expenses are divided into shares or por. tlons." Clubs were more general in the days of the Spectator than perhaps at any other period of our his- tory. Throughout the previous half-century publlo discord had dissevered private society ; and, at the re- storation, men yearned for fellowship ; but as, even yet, political danger lurked under an unguarded expression or a rash toast, companions could not be too carefully chosen. Persons therefore whose political opinions and private tastes coincided, made a practice of meeting in clubs. This principle of congeniality took all manner of odd turns, but the political clubs of the time played an important part in history. 1 This chapter is by Steele. * The account of the Spectator and each member of his club was most likely fictitious ; for the Tatler hav- ing been betrayed into personalities, gave such grave offence, that Steele determined not to fall again into a like error. Had indeed the originals of Sir Roger and his club-companions existed among, as Budgell asserts, the " conspicuous " characters of the day, literary his- tory would assuredly have revealed them. But a better witness than Budgell testifies to the reverse. The Spec- tator emphatically disclaims personality in various pas- sages : In 262 he says, " When I place an imaginary r' at the head of a character, I examine every syllable, every letter of it, that it may not bear any resemblance to one that is real." In another place, " I would not make myself merry over a piece of paste- board that is invest with a public character." SIR ROGER DE COVERLET. 135 that is very singular in his behaviour, but his singularities proceed from his good sense, and are contradictions to the man- ners of the world, only as he thinks the world is in the wrong. However, this humor creates him no enemies, for he does nothing with sourness or obstinacy ; and his being unconfined to modes and forms, makes him but the readier and more capable to please and oblige all who know him. When he is in town he lives in Soho-Square. It is said he keeps him- self a bachelor by reason he was crossed in love by a perverse beautiful widow of the next county to him. Before this dis- appointment, Sir Roger was what you call a fine gentleman, had often supped with my Lord Eochester and Sir George Ethe- rege, fought a duel upon his first coming to town, and kicked Bully Dawson in a public coffee-house for calling him youngster. But being ill used by the above-mentioned widow, he was very serious for a year and a half ; and though, his temper being naturally jovial, he at last got over it, he grew careless of him- self, and never dressed afterwards. He continues to wear a coat and doublet of the same cut that were in fashion at the time of his repulse, which, in his merry humors, he tells us, has been in and out twelve times since he first wore it. He is now in his fifty -sixth year, cheerful, gay, and hearty ; keeps a good house both in town and country ; a great lover of man- kind ; but there is such a mirthful cast in his behaviour, that he is rather beloved than esteemed. His tenants grow rich, his servants look satisfied, all the young women profess love to him, and the young men are glad of his company : when he comes into a house he calls the servants by their names, and talks all the way up stairs to a visit. I must not omit, that Sir Roger is a Justice of the Quorum ; that he fills the chair at a Quarter-Session with great abilities, and three months ago gained universal applause by explaining a passage in the Game Act. The gentleman next in esteem and authority among us, is another bachelor, who is a member of the Inner-Temple ; a man of great probity, wit and understand- ing; but he has chosen his place of residence rather to obey the direction of an old humorsome father, than in pursuit of his own inclinations. He was placed there to study the laws of the land, and is the most learned of any of the House in those of the stage. Aristotle and Lon- ginus are much better understood by him than Littleton or Coke. The father sends up every post questions relating to mar- riage articles, leases and tenures in the neighborhood ; all which questions he agrees with an attorney to answer and take care of in the lump. He is studying the passions themselves, when he should be inquiring into the debates among men which arise from them. He knows the argument of each of the orations of De- mosthenes and Tully, but not one case in the reports of our own courts. No one ever took him for a fool, but none, except his intimate friends, know he has a great deal of wit. This turn makes him at once both disinterested and agreeable : As few of his thoughts are drawn from business, they are most of them fit for conversation. His taste of books is a little too just for the age he lives in ; he has read all, but approves of very few. His familiarity with the customs, manners, actions and writings of the ancients makes him a very delicate observer of what occurs to him in the present world. He is an excellent critic, and the time of the play is his hour of business ; exactly at five he passes through New-Inn, crosses through Rus- sell-Court, and takes a turn at Will's till the play begins; he has his shoes rubbed and his periwig powdered at the barber's as you go into the Rose. It is for the good of the audience when he is at a play, for the actors have an ambition to please him. The person of next consideration is Sir Andrew Freeport, a merchant of great eminence in the city of London. 1 A person of indefatigable industry, strong reason, and great experience. His notions of trade are noble and generous, and (as every rich man has usually some sly way of jesting, which would make no great figure were he not a rich man) he calls the sea the British Common. He is 1 To Sir Roger, who as a country gentleman appears to be a Tory, or, as it is generally expressed, an adherent to the landed interest, is opposed Sir Andrew Freeport, a new man and a wealthy merchant, zealous for the moneyed interest, and a Whig. Of this contrariety ol opinions more consequences were at first intended than could be produced when the resolution was taken to ex. elude party from the paper. Dr. Johnsons Life of Ad- diton. 136 SIK ROGER DE COVERLEY. acquainted with commerce in all its parts, and will tell you that it is a stupid and barbarous way to extend dominion by arms ; for true power is to be got by arts and industry. He will often argue, that if this part of our trade were well cultiva- ted, we should gain from one nation ; and if another, from another. I have heard him prove, that diligence makes more lasting acquisitions than valor, and that sloth has ruined more nations than the sword. He abounds in several frugal maxims, amongst which the greatest favorite is, "a penny saved is a penny got." A general trader of good sense is pleasanter company than a general scholar ; and Sir Andrew having a natural unaffected eloquence, the perspicuity of his discourse gives the same pleasure that wit would in another man. He has made his fortunes himself; and says that England may be richer than other kingdoms, by as plain methods as he himself is richer than other men ; though at the same time I can say this of him, that there is not a point in the compass but blows home a ship in which he is an owner. Next to Sir Andrew in the club-room sits Captain Sentry, a gentleman of great courage, good understanding, but invinci- ble modesty. He is one of those that de- serve very well, but are very awkward at putting their talents within the observa- tion of such as should take notice of them. He was some years a captain, and behaved himself with great gallantry in several engagements and at several sieges; but having a small estate of his own, and be- ing next heir to Sir Roger, he has quitted a way of life in which no man can rise suitably to his merit, who is not some- thing of a courtier as well as a soldier. I have heard him often lament, that in a profession where merit is placed in so conspicuous a view, impudence should get the better of modesty. When he has talked to this purpose I never heard him make a sour expression, but frankly con- fess that he left the world, because he was not fit for it. A strict honesty and an even regular behaviour, are in them- selves obstacles to him that must press through crowds, who endeavor at the same end with himself, the favor of a commander. He will however in his way of talk excuse generals, for not disposing according to men's desert, or enquiring into it : for, says he, that great man who has a mind to help me, has as many to break through to come at me, as I have to come at him: Therefore he will con- clude, that the man who would make a figure, especially in a military way, must get over all false modesty, and assist his patron against the importunity of other pretenders, by a proper assurance in his own vindication. He says it is a civil cowardice to be backward in asserting what you ought to expect, as it is a mili- tary fear to be slow in attacking when it is your duty. With this candor does the gentleman speak of himself and others. The same frankness runs through all his conversation. The military part of his life has furnished him with many adven- tures, in the relation of which he is very agreeable to the company ; for he is never overbearing, though accustomed to com- mand men in the utmost degree below him; nor ever too obsequious from an habit of obeying men highly above him. But that our society may not appear a set of humorists unacquainted with the gallantries and pleasures of the age, we have among us the gallant Will Honey- comb, 1 a gentleman whp, according to his years, should be in the decline of his life, but having ever been very careful of his person, and always had a very easy for- tune, time has made but a very little im- pression, either by wrinkles on his fore- head, or traces in his brain. His person is well turned, of a good height. He is very ready at that sort of discourse with which men usually entertain women. He has all his life dressed very well, and re- members habits as others do men. He can smile when one speaks to him, and laughs easily. He knows the history of i The attentive reader of the Tatler will find in it the germ of many of the characters in the Spectator an additional argument against their having been drawn from actual individuals. The honorable Mr. Thomas Gules, who indicted Peter Plum in the Court of Honor for taking the wall of him (Tattler, No. 256), will at once be recognized as the prototype of Will Wimble. " The prosecutor alleged that he was the cadet of a very ancient family ; and that according to the principles of all the younger brothers of the said family, he had never sullied himself with business; but had chosen rather to starve like a man of honor, than do anything beneath his quality. He produced several witnesses that he had never employed himself beyond the twist- ing of a whip, or the making of a pair of nut-crackers in which he only worked for his diversion, in order to make a present now and then to his friends." SIR ROGER DE COVERLEY. 137 very mode, and can inform you from which of the French king's wenches our wives and daughters had this manner of curling their hair, that way of placing their hoods; whose frailty was covered by such a sort of petticoat, and whose vanity to show her foot made that part of the dress so short in such a year. In a word, all his conversation and knowledge have been in the female world : as other men of his age will take notice to you what such a minister said upon such and such an occasion, he will tell you when the Duke of Monmouth danced at court, such a woman was then smitten, another was taken with him at the head of his troop in the park. In all these impor- tant relations, he has ever about the same time received a kind glance or the blow of a fan from some celebrated beauty, mother of the present lord such-a-one. If you speak of a young commoner that said a lively thing in the house, he starts up, "He has good blood in his veins, Tom Mirabell, the rogue, cheated me in that affair: that young fellow's mother used me more like a dog than any woman I ever made advances to." This way of talking of his very much enlivens the conversation among us of a more sedate turn ; and I find there is not one of the company, but myself, who rarely speak at all, but speaks of him as of that sort of man who is usually called a well-bred fine gentleman. To conclude his char- acter, where women are not concerned, he is an honest worthy man. I cannot tell whether I am to account him whom I am next to speak of, as one of our company; for he visits us but seldom, but when he does it adds to every man else a new enjoyment of himself. He is a clergyman, a very philosophic man, of gep^ra 1 learning, great sanctity of life, and vkw most exact gooa oreeding. He has the misfortune to be of a very weak constitu- tion, and consequently cannot accept of such cares and business as preferments in his function would oblige him to : He is therefore among divines what a chamber- counsellor is among lawyers. The probity of his mind, and the integrity of his life, create him followers, as being eloquent or loud advances others. He seldom in- troduces the subject he speaks upon ; but we are so far gone in years, that he observes when he is among us, an earnestness to have him fall on some divine topic, which he always treats with much authority, as one who has no interests in this world, as one who is hastening to the object of all his wishes, and conceives hope from his decays and infirmities. These are my ordinary companions. CHAPTER II. COVERLEY HALL. Hinc libi copia Manabit ad plenum, benigno Burit honorum opulenta cornu. HOB. HAVING often received an invitation from my friend Sir Roger de Coverley to pass away a month with him in the coun- try, I last week accompanied him thither, and am settled with him for some time at his country-house, where I intend to form several of my ensuing speculations. Sir Roger, who is well acquainted with my humor, lets me rise and go to bed when I please, dine at his own table or in my chamber as I think fit, sit still and say nothing without bidding me be merry. When the gentlemen of the county come to see him, he only shows me at a dis- tance : as I have been walking in his fields I have observed them stealing a sight of me over an hedge, and have heard the knight desiring them not to let me see them, for that I hated to be stared at. I am the more at ease in Sir Roger's family, because it consists of sober and staid persons ; for as the knight is the best master in the world, he seldom changes his servants; and as he is be- loved by all about him, his servants never care for leaving him ; by this means hia domestics are all in years, and grown old with their master. You would take his valet de chambre for his brother, his butler is greyheaded, his groom is one of the gravest men that I have ever sees and his coachman has the looks oC privy-counsellor. You see the goddneSw of the master even in the old house-dog, and in a gray pad that is kept in the stable with great care and tenderness out of regard to his past services, though he has been useless for several years. I could not but observe with a great deal of pleasure the joy that appeared in the countenances of these ancient do- mestics upon my friend's arrival at his country seat. Some of them could not refrain from tears at the sight of their old 138 SIR ROGER DE COVERLET. master; every one o them pressed for- ward to do something for him, and seemed discouraged if they were not employed. At the same time the old Knight, with a mixture of the father and the master of the family, tempered the inquiries after his own affairs with several kind questions relating to themselves. This humanity and good-nature engages every body to him, so that when he is pleasant upon any of them, all his family are in good humor, and none so much as the person whom he diverts himself with : On the contrary, if he coughs, or betrays any infirmity of old age, it is easy for a standerby to observe a secret concern in the looks of all his servants. My worthy friend has put me under the particular care of his butler, who is a very prudent man, and, as well as the rest of his fellow-servants, wonderfully desirous of pleasing me, because they have often heard their master talk of me as of his particular friend. My chief companion, when Sir Roger is diverting himself in the woods or the fields, is a very venerable man who is ever with Sir Roger, and has lived at his house in the nature of a chaplain above thirty years. This gentleman is a person of good sense and some learning, of a very regular life and obliging conversation : He heartily loves Sir Roger, and knows that he is very much in the old Knight's esteem, so that he lives in the family rather as a relation than a dependent. I have observed in several of my papers that my friend Sir Roger, amidst all his good qualities, is something of an humor- ist ; and that his virtues, as well as im- perfections, are as it were tinged by a certain extravagance, which makes them particularly his, and distinguishes them from those of other men. This cast of mind, as it is generally very innocent in itself, so it renders his conversation highly agreeable, and more delightful than the same degree of sense and virtue would appear in their common and ordinary colors. As I was walking with him last night, he asked me how I liked the good man whom I have just now mentioned ? and without staying for my answer told me, That he was afraid of being insulted with Latin and Greek at his own table ; for which reason he desired a particular friend of his at the university to find him out a clergyman rather o* ''lain sense than much learning, of a good aspect, a clear voice, a sociable temper ; and, if possible a man that understood a little of back gammon. My friend, says Sir Roger, found me out this gentleman, who, besides the endowments required of him, is, they tell me, a good scholar, though he does not show it : I have given him the par- sonage of the parish ; and because I know his value, have settled upon him a good annuity for life. If he outlives me, he shall find that he was higher in my esteem than perhaps he thinks he is. He has now been with me thirty years; and though he does not know I have taken notice of it, has never in all that time asked any thing of me for himself, though he is every day soliciting me for some- thing in behalf of one or other of my tenants his parishioners. There has not been a law-suit in the parish since he has lived among them : if any dispute arises, they apply themselves to him for the de- cision ; if they do not acquiesce in his judgment, which I think never happened above once or twice at most, they appeal to me. At his first settling with me, I made him a present of all the good ser- mons which have been printed in English, and only begged of him that every Sun- day he would pronounce one of them in the pulpit. Accordingly he has digested them into such a series, that they follow one another naturally, and make a con- tinued system of practical divinity. As Sir Roger was going on in his story, the gentleman we were talking of came up to us ; and upon the Knight's asking him who preached to-morrow (for it was Satur- day night) told us, the Bishop of St. Asaph in the morning, and Dr. South in the afternoon. He then showed us his list of preachers for the whole year, where I saw with a great deal of pleasure Archbishop Tillotson, Bishop Sanderson, Dr. Barrow, Dr. Calamy, with several living authors who have published discourses of practical divinity. I no sooner saw this venerable man in the pulpit, but I very much ap- proved of my friend's insisting upon the qualifications of a good aspect and a clear voice ; for I was so charmed with the gracefulness of his figure and delivery, as well as with the discourses he pronounced, that I think I never passed any time more to my satisfaction. A sermon repeated after this manner, is like the composition of a poet in the mouth of a graceful actae. SIR ROGER DE COVERLET. 139 I could heartily wish that more of our country clergy would follow this example ; and instead of wasting their spirits in laborious compositions of their own, would endeavor after a handsome elocu- tion, and all those other talents that are proper, to enforce what has been penned by greater masters. This would not only be more easy to themselves, but more edifying to the people. CHAPTER III. THE COVERLEY HOUSE- HOLD. 1 JEsopo ingtntem ttatuam posuere Attiti, Serrumque colloeftrunt sterna in boo', Patere honori* icirent ut cunctit viam. PH^IDR. THE reception, manner of attendance, undisturbed freedom and quiet, which I meet with here in the country, has con- firmed me in the opinion I always had, that the general corruption of manners in servants is owing to the conduct of masters. The aspect of every one in the family carries so much satisfaction, that it appears he knows the happy lot which has befallen him in being a member of it. There is one particular which I have seldom seen but at Sir Roger's ; it is usual in all other places, that servants fly from the parts of the house through which their master is passing: on the contrary, here they in- dustriously place themselves in his way ; and it is on both sides, as it were, under- stood as a visit, when the servants appear without calling. This proceeds from the human and equal temper of the man of the house, who also perfectly well knows how to enjoy a great estate, with such economy as ever to be much beforehand. This makes his own mind untroubled, and consequently unapt to vent peevish ex- pressions, or give passionate or inconsis- tent orders to those about him. Thus re- spect and love go together ; and a certain cheerfulness in performance of their duty is the particular distinction of the lower part of this family. When a servant is called before his master, he does not come with an expectation to hear himself rated for some trivial fault, threatened to be stripped or used with any other unbecom- ing language, which mean masters often give to worthy servants ; but it is often to know, what road he took that he came so By Steel*. readily back according to order ; whether he passed by such a ground, if the old man who rents it is in good health ; or whether he gave Sir Roger's love to him, or the like. A man who preserves a respect, found- ed on his benevolence to his dependents, lives rather like a prince than a master in his family; his orders are received as favors, rather than duties; and the dis- tinction of approaching him is part of the reward for executing what is commanded by him. There is another circumstance in which my friend excels in his management, which is the manner of rewarding his servants : he has ever been of opinion, that giving his cast clothes to be worn by valets has a very ill effect upon little minds, and creates a silly sense of equality between the parties, in persons affected only with outward things. I have heard him often pleasant on this occasion, and describe a young gentleman abusing his man in that coat, which a month or two before was the most pleasing distinc- tion he was conscious of in himself. He would turn his discourse still more plea- santly upon the ladies' bounties of this kind ; and I have heard him say he knew a fine woman, who distributed rewards and punishments in giving becoming or unbecoming dresses to her maids. But my good friend is above these little instances of good-will, in bestowing only trifles on his servants ; a good servant to him is sure of having it in his choice very soon of being no servant at all. As I be- fore observed, he is so good an husband, and knows so thoroughly that the skill of the purse is the cardinal virtue of this life ; I say, he knows so well that frugal- ity is the support of generosity, that he can often spare a large fine, when a tene- ment falls, and give the settlement to a good servant who has a mind to go into the world, or make a stranger pay the fine to that servant, for his more comfort- able maintenance, if he stays in his ser- vice. A man of honor and generosity con- siders it would be miserable to himself to have no will but that of another, though it were of the best person breath- ing, and for that reason goes on aa fast as he is able to put his servants into inde- gendent livelihoods. The greatest part of ir Roger's estate is tenanted by persons 140 SIR ROGER DE COVERLEY. who have served himself or his ancestors. It was to me extremely pleasant to ob- serve the visitants from several parts to welcome his arrival into the country ; and all the diiference that I could take notice of between the late servants who came to see him, and those who staid in the family, was that these latter were looked upon as finer gentlemen and better cour- tiers. This manumission and placing them in a way of livelihood I look upon as only what is due to a good servant, which en- couragement will make his successor be as diligent, as humble, and as ready as he was. There is something wonderful in the narrowness of those minds, which can be pleased, and be barren of bounty to those who please them. One might, on this occasion, recount the sense that great persons in all ages have had of the merit of their dependents, and the heroic services which men have done their masters in the extremity of their fortunes ; and shown to their un- done patrons, that fortune was all the difference between them ; but as I design this my speculation only as a gentle ad- monition to thankless masters, I shall not go out of the occurrences of common life, but assert it as a general observation, that I never saw but in Sir Roger's family, and one or two more, good servants treat- ed as they ought to be. Sir Roger's kind- ness extends to their children's children, and this very morning he sent his coach- man's grandson to prentice. I shall con- clude this paper with an account of a pic- ture in his gallery, where there are many which will deserve my future observation. At the very upper end of this hand- some structure I saw the portraiture of two young men standing in a river, the one naked, the other in a livery. The person supported seemed half dead, but still so much alive as to show in his face exquisite joy and love towards the other. I thought the fainting figure resembled my friend Sir Roger, and looking at the butler, who stood by me, for an account of it, be informed me that the person in the livery was a servant of Sir Roger's, who stood on the shore while his master was swimming, and observing him taken with some sudden illness, and sink under water, jumped in and saved him. He told me Sir Rojrer took off the drcsa he was in as soon as he came home, and by a great bounty at that time, followed by his favor ever since, had made him master of that pretty seat which we saw at a distance as we came to this house. I remembered indeed Sir Roger said there lived a very worthy gentleman, to whom he was high- ly obliged, without mentioning anything further. Upon my looking a little dis- satisfied at some part of the picture, my attendant told me that it was against Sir Roger's will, and at the earnest request of the gentleman himself, that he was drawn in the habit in which he had saved his master. CHAPTER IV. THE COVERLEY GUEST. Gratis anhelans, multa agendo nihil agens. PH.SDB. As I was yesterday morning walking with Sir Roger before his house, a country- fellow brought him a huge fish, which, he told him, Mr. William Wimble had caught that very morning ; and that he presented it, with his service to him, and intended to come and dine with him. At the same time he delivered a letter, which my friend read to me as soon as the mes- senger left him. " SIR ROGER, " I desire you to accept of a jack, which is the best I have caught this season. I in- tend to come and stay with you a week, and see how the perch bite in the Black river. I observed with some concern, the last time I saw you upon the Bowling- Green, that your whip wanted a lash to it ; I will bring half a dozen with me that I twisted last week, which I hope will serve you all the time you are in the country. I have not been out of the saddle for six days last past, having been at Eaton with Sir John's eldest son. He takes to learning hugely. I am, " Sir, your humble Servant, "WILL WIMBLE." This extraordinary letter, and message that accompanied it, made me very curi- ous to know the character and quality of the gentleman who sent them ; which I found to be as follows. Will Wimble is younger brother to a baronet, and de- scended of the ancient family of the Wimbles. He ia now between forty and fifty ; but being bred to no business and born to no estate, he generally lives with SIR ROGER DE COVERLET. 141 his elder brother as superintendent of his game. He hunts a pack of dogs better than any man in the country, and is very famous for finding out a hare. He is ex- tremely well versed in all the little handi- crafts of an idle man : He makes a May- fly to a miracle ; and furnishes the whole country with angle-rods. As he is a good- natured officious fellow, and very much esteemed upon account of his family, he is a welcome guest at every house, and keeps up a good correspondence among all the gentlemen about him. He carries a tulip-root in his pocket from one to an- other, or exchanges a puppy between a couple of friends that live perhaps in the opposite sides of the country. Will is a particular favorite of all the young heirs, whom he frequently obliges with a net that he has weaved, or a setting-dog that he has made himself. He now and then presents a pair of garters of his own knit- ting to their mothers or sisters ; and raises a great deal of mirth among them, by in- quiring as often as he meets them how they wear ? These gentleman-like manu- factures and obliging little humors make Will the darling of the country. Sir Roger was proceeding in the char- acter of him, when we saw him make up to us with two or three hazle-twigs in his hand that he had cut in Sir Roger's woods, as he came through them, in his way to the house. I was very much pleased to observe on one side the hearty and sin- cere welcome with which Sir Roger re- ceived him, and on the other, the secret joy which his guest discovered at sight of the good old knight. After the first sa- lutes were over, Will desired Sir Roger to lend him one of his servants to carry a set of shuttlecocks he had with him in a little box to a lady that lived about a mile off, to whom it seems he had prom- ised such a present for above this half year. Sir Roger's back was no sooner turned but honest Will began to tell me of a large cock-pheasant that he had sprung in one of the neighboring woods, with two or three other adventures of the same nature. Odd and uncommon char- acters are the game that I look for, and most delight in ; for which reason I was as much pleased with the novelty of the person that talked to me, as he could be for his life with the springing of a pheas- ant, and therefore listened to him with more than ordinary attention. In the midst of his discourse the bell rung to dinner, where the gentleman I have been speaking of had the pleasure of seeing the huge Jack, he had caught, served up for the first dish in a most sumptuous manner. Upon our sitting down to it he gave us a long account how he had hooked it, played with it, foiled i*. and at length drew it out upon the ba ak, with several other particulars that lasted all the first course. A dish of wild-fowl that came afterwards furnished conversation for the rest of the dinner, which concluded with a late invention of Will's for improving the quail-pipe. Upon withdrawing into my room after dinner, I was secretly touched with com- passion towards the honest gentleman that had dined with us ; and could not but consider with a great deal of concern, how so good an heart and such busy handa were wholly employed in trifles ; that so much humanity should be so little bene- ficial to others, and so much industry so little advantageous to himself. The same temper of mind and application to affairs might have recommended him to the pub- lic esteem, and have raised his fortune in another station of life. What good to his country or himself might not a trader or a merchant have done with such useful though ordinary qualifications ? Will Wimble's is the case of many a younger brother of a great family, who had rather see their children starve like gentlemen, than thrive in a trade or pr- fession that is beneath their quality. This humor fills several parts of Europe with pride and beggary. It is the happi- ness of a trading nation, like ours, that the younger sons, though uncapable of any liberal art or profession, may be placed in such a way of life, as may per- haps enable them to vie with the best of their family : Accordingly we find several citizens that were launched into the world with narrow fortunes, rising by an honest industry to greater estates than those of their elder brothers. It is not improbable but Will was formerly tried at divinity, law, or physic ; and that finding his genius did not lie that way, his parents gave him up at length to his own inventions. But certainly, however improper he might have been for studies of a higher nature, he was perfectly well turned for the occu- pations of trade and commerce. 142 SIR ROGER DE COVERLEY. CHAPTER V. THE COVERLEY LINEAGE. 1 Abnormii sapient HOK. I WAS this morning walking in the gallery, when Sir Roger entered at the end opposite to ine, andadvancing towards me, said he was glad to meet me among his relations the De Coverleys, and hoped I liked the conversation of so much good company, who were as silent as myself. I knew he alluded to the pictures, and as he is a gentleman who does not a little value himself upon his ancient descent, I ex- pected he would give me some account of them. We are now arrived at the upper- end of the gallery, when the Knight faced towards one of the pictures, and as we stood before it, he entered into the matter, after his blunt way of saying things, as they occur to his imagination, without regular introduction, or care to preserve the appearance of chain of thought. " It is," said he, " worth while to con- sider the force of dress ; and how the per- sons of one age differ from those of another, merely by that only. One may observe also, that the general fashion of one age has been followed by one particular set of people in another, and by them preserved from one generation to another. Thus the vast jetting coat and small bonnet, which was the habit in Harry the Seventh's time, is kept on in the yeomen of the guard ; not without a good and politic view, because they look a foot taller, and a foot and a half broader: besides that the cap leaves the face expanded, and consequently more terrible, and fitter to stand at the entrance of palaces. " This predecessor of ours, you see, is dressed after this manner, and his cheeks would be no larger than mine, were he in a hat as I am. He was the last man that won a prize in the Tilt-yard (which is now a common street before Whitehall). You see the broken lance that lies there by his right foot ; he shivered that lance of his adversary all to pieces; and bearing himself, look you, Sir, in this manner, at the same time he came within the target ofthe gentleman who rode against him, and taking him with incredible force be- fore him on the pommel of his saddle, he in that manner rid the tournament over, with an air that shewed he did it rather 1 By Steels. to perform the rule of the lists, than ex- pose his enemy ; however, it appeared he knew how to make use of a victory, and with a gentle trot he marched up to a gallery where their mistress sat (for they were rivals), and let him down with laud- able courtesy and pardonable insolence. I don't know but it might be exactly where the coffee-house is now. "You are to know this my ancestor was not only of a military genius, but fit also for the arts of peace, for he played on the bass-viol as well as any gentleman at court; you see where his viol hangs by his basket-hilt sword. The action at the tilt-yard you may be sure won the fair lady, who was a maid of honor, and the greatest beauty of her time; here she stands the next picture. You see, Sir, my great great great grandmother has on the new-fashioned petticoat, except that the modern is gathered at the waist ; my grandmother appears as if she stood in a large drum, whereas the ladies now walk as if they were in a go-cart. 1 For all this lady was bred at court, she became an excellent country-wife, she brought ten children, and when I show you the li- brary, you shall see in her own hand, (allowing for the difference of the lan- guage) the best receipt now in England both for an hasty-pudding and a white- pot. " If you please to walk back a little, because 'tis necessary to look at the three next pictures at one view ; these are three sisters. She on the right hand, who is so very beautiful, died a maid : the next to her, still handsomer, had the same fate, against her will ; this homely thing in the middle had both their portions added to her own, and was stolen by a neighboring gentleman, a man of stratagem and reso- lution, for he poisoned three mastiffs to come at her, and knocked down two deer- stealers in carrying her off. Misfortunes happen in all families : the theft of this romp and so much money, was no great matter to our estate. But the next heir that possessed it was this soft gentleman, whom you see there : Observe the small buttons, the little boots, the laces, the slashes about his clothes, and above all the posture he is drawn in (which to be 1 The hooped petticoat was revived, not long before the date of this paper, by a mantua-maker named Selby. Agaiiijt it keen war was waged in th* -Spectator SIR ROGER DE COVERLEY. 143 sure was his own choosing) ; you see he sits with one hand on a desk writing and looking as it were another way, like an easy writer, or a sonnetteer: he was one of those that had too much wit to know how to live in the world ; he was a man of no justice, but great good manners ; he ruined everybody that had anything to do with him, but never said a rude thing in his life ; the most indolent person in the world, he would sign a deed athat passed away half his estate with his f loves on, but would not put on his hat efore a lady if it were to save his country. He is said to be the first that made love by squeezing the hand. He left the estate with ten thousand pounds of debt upon it : but however by all hands I have been informed that he was every way the finest gentleman in the world. That debt lay heavy on our house for one generation, but it was retrieved by a gift from that honest man you see there, a citizen of our name, but nothing at all akin to us. I know Sir Andrew Freeport has said behind my back, that this man was descended from one of the ten chil- dren of the maid of honor I showed you above ; but it was never made out. We winked at the thing indeed, because money was wanting at that time." Here I saw my friend a little embar- rassed, and turned my face to the next portraiture. Sir Koger went on with his account of the gallery in the following manner. "This man" (pointing to him I looked at), " I take to be the honor of our house, Sir Humphrey de Coverley ; he was in his dealings as punctual as a tradesman, and as generous as a gentleman. He would have thought himself as much undone by breaking his word, as if it were to be followed by bankruptcy. He served his country as knight of this shire to his dying day. He found it no easy matter to maintain an integrity in his words and actions, even in things that regarded the offices which are incumbent upon him, in the care of his own affairs and relations of life, and therefore dreaded (though he had great talents) to go into employments of state, where he must be exposed to the snares of ambition. Innocence of life and great ability were the distinguishing parts of his character ; the latter, he had often observed, had led to the destruction of the former, and used frequently to lament that great and good had not the same signification. He was an excellent husbandman, but had resolved not to exceed such a degree of wealth ; all above it he bestowed in secret bounties many years after the sum he aimed at for his own use was attained. Yet he did not slacken his industry, but to a decent old age spent the life and fortune which was superfluous to himself, in the service of his friends and neighbors." Here we were called to dinner, and Sir Roger ended the discourse of this gentle- man, by telling me, as we followed the servant, that this his ancestor was a brave man, and narrowly escaped being killed in the civil wars; "For," said he, "he was sent out of the field upon a private mes- sage, the day before the battle of Wor- cester." The whim of narrowly escaping by having been within a day of danger, with other matters above-mentioned, mixed with good sense, left me at a loss whether I was more delighted with my friend's wisdom or simplicity. CHAPTER VI. THE COVERLEY GHOST. Horror vbique ardmos, timul ipsa silentia terrent. VIBO. AT a little distance from Sir Roger's house, among the ruins of an old abbey, there is a long walk of aged elms, which are shot up so very high, that when one passes under them, the rooks and crows that rest upon the tops of them seem to be cawing in another region. I am very much delighted with this sort of noise, which I consider as a kind of natural prayer to that being who supplies the wants of his whole creation, and who, in. the beautiful language of the psalms, feed- eth the young ravens that call upon him. I like this retirement the better, because of an ill report it lies under of being haunted; for which reason (as I have been told in the family) no living creature ever walks in it besides the chaplain. My good friend the butler desired me with a very grave face not to venture myself in it after sunset, for that one of the footmen had been almost frighted out of his wits by a spirit that appeared to him in the shape of a black horse without an head ; to which he added, that about a month ago one of the maids coming home late 144 SIR ROGER DE COVERLEY. that way with a pail of milk upon her head, heard such a rustling among the bushes that she let it fall. I was taking a walk in this place last night between the hours of nine and ten, and could not but fancy it one of the most proper scenes in the world for a ghost to appear in. The ruins of the abbey are scattered up and down on every side, and half covered with ivv and elder-bushes, the harbors of several soli- tary birds which seldom make their appearance till the dusk of the evening. The place was formerly a churchyard, and has still several marks in it of graves and burying-places. There is such an echo among the old ruins and vaults, that if you stamp but a little louder than ordi- nary, you hear the sound repeated. At the same time the walk of elms, with the croaking of the ravens which from time to time are heard from the tops of them, looks exceeding solemn and venerable. These objects naturally raise seriousness and attention ; and when night heightens the awfulness of the place, and pours out her supernumerary horrors upon every- thing in it, I do not at all wonder that weak minds fill it with spectres and ap- paritions. Mr. Locke, in his chapter of the asso- ciation of ideas,has very curious remarks to show how by the prejudice of educa- tion one idea often introduces into the mind a whole set that bear no resem- blance to one another in the nature of things. Among several examples of this kind, he produces the following instance : "The ideas of goblins and sprites have really no more to do with darkness than light: yet let but a foolish maid incul- cate these often on the mind of a child, and raise them there together, possibly he shall never be able to separate them again so long as he lives ; but darkness shall ever afterwards bring with it those fright- ful ideas, and they shall be so joined that he can no more bear the one than the other." As I was walking in this solitude, where the dusk of the evening conspired with so many other occasions of terror, I observed a cow grazing not far from me, which an imagination that was apt to startle might easily have construed into a black horse without an head : and I dare say the poor footman lost his wits upon some such trivial occasion. My friend Sir Roger has often told me with a good deal of mirth, that at his first coming to his estate he found three parts of his house altogether useless; that the best room in it had the reputation of being haunted, and by that means was locked up ; that noises had been heard in his long gallery, so that he could not get a servant to enter it after eight o'clock at night ; that the door of one of his cham- bers was nailed up, because there went a story in the family that a butler had for- merly hanged himself in it ; and that his mother, who lived to a great age, had shut up half the rooms in the house, in which either her husband, a son, or daughter had died. The knight seeing his habitation reduced to so small a com- pass, and himself in a manner shut out of his own house, upon the death of hia mother ordered all the apartments to be flung open and exorcised by his chaplain, who lay in every room one after another, and by that means dissipated the fears which had so long reigned in the family. I should not have been thus particular upon these ridiculous horrors, did not I find them so very much prevail in all farts of the country. At the same time think a person who is thus terrified with the imagination of ghosts and spectres much more reasonable than one who, contrary to the report of all historians sacred and profane, ancient and modern, and to the traditions of all nations, thinks the appearance of spirits fabulous and groundless: could not I give myself up to this general testimony of mankind, I should to the relations of particular per- sons who are now living, and whom I cannot distrust in other matters of fact. I might here add, that not only the histo- rians, to whom we may join the poets, but likewise the philosophers of antiquity have favored this opinion. CHAPTER VII. THE COVEELEY SABBATH. 'AOavdros ftlv irpaTa Oeos, vonw ill-matched husband. loquitur. I shall end this paper with that whole epigram, which represents with much humor my honest friend's condition : Quicquid agit Rufus, nihil est, nisi Nsevia Rufo, Si gaudet, si net, si tacet, hanc loquitur : Coenat, propinat, poscit, negat, innuit, Una est Nsevia ; Si non sit Nsevia.mutus erit. Scriberet hesterna patri cum luce salutem, Nsevia lux, inquit, Naevia,numen, ave. Let Rufus weep, rejoice, stand, sit, or walk, Still he can nothing but of Nsevia talk ; Let him eat, drink, ask questions, or dispute, Still he must speak of Nsevia, or be mute. He writ his father, ending with this line, I am, my lovely Neevia, ever thine. CHAPTER IX. THE COVERLEY ECONOMY. 1 Pauptrtatis pudor etfuga. HOB. ECONOMY in our affairs has the same effect upon our fortunes which good- breeding has upon our conversations. There is a pretending behaviour in both cases, which, instead of making men es- teemed, renders them both miserable and contemptible. We had yesterday at Sir Roger's a set of country gentlemen who dined with him: and after dinner the glass was taken, by those who pleased, pretty plentifully. Among others I ob- served a person of a tolerable good aspect, who seemed to be more greedy of liquor Probability, however, rejects Lady Warwick as the model we seek. To find it -we must, it is said, turn to Steele's tormentress. Addison's sufferings were in full force when the sketch -was made; Steele's were past. Addison's tortures were too real and operative for the unchecked flow of that genial humor for that fine tolerance of the widow's cruelty which pervades every allusion to her : Steele's pains had, on the contrary, been first assuaged by time, and then, let us hope, extin. guished by matrimony with another and another While, therefore, experience had made him master of a widow's arts, the retrospect of what he had suffered from them was too remote to darken the shadows, or to sour the expressions of the portrait. Hence it is his signature that appears to this paper, and his widow who is said to have inspired them. The original of th character is believed to have been Mrs. Boevey, of FU* ley Abbey, near Worcestershire. i By Steele. SIR ROGER DE COVERLET. 149 than any of the company, and yet, me- thought, he did not taste" it with delight. As he grew warm, he was suspicious of every thing that was said ; and as he ad- vanced towards being fuddled, his humor grew worse. At the same time his bitter- ness seemed to be rather an inward dis- satisfaction in his own mind, than any dislike he had taken to the company. Upon hearing his name, I knew him to be a gentleman of considerable fortune in this county, but greatly in debt. What gives the unhappy man this peevishness of spirit, is, that his estate is dipped, and is eating out with usury ; and yet he has not the heart to sell any part of it. His proud stomach, at the cost of restless nights, constant inquietudes, danger of affronts, and a thousand nameless inconveniences, preserves this canker in his fortune, rather than it shall be said he is a man of fewer hundreds a year than he has been commonly reputed. Thus he endures the torment of poverty, to avoid the name of being less rich. If you go to his house you see great plenty ; but served in a manner that shows it is all unnatural, and that the master's mind is not at home. There is a certain waste and carelessness in the air of every thing, and the whole ap- pears but a covered indigence, a magnifi- cent poverty. That neatness and cheerful- ness which attends the table of him who lives within compass, is wanting, and ex- changed for a libertine-way of service in all about him. This gentleman's conduct, though a very common way of management, is as ridiculous as that officer's would be. who had but few men under his command, and should take the charge of an extent of country rather than of a small pass. To pay for, personate, and keep in a man's hands, a greater estate than he really has, is of all others the most unpardonable vanity, and must in the end reduce the man who is guilty of it to dishonor. Yet if we look round us in any county of Great Britain, we shall see many in this fatal error ; if that may be called by so soft a name, which proceeds from a false shame of appearing what they really are, when the contrary behaviour would in a short time advance them to the condition which they pretend to. Laertes has fifteen hundred pounds a year ; which is mortgaged for six thousand pounds ; but it is impossible to convince him that if he sold as much as would pay off that debt, he would save four shillings in the pound, which he gives for the vanity of being the reputed master of it. Yet if Laertes did this, he would perhaps be easier in his own fortune ; but then Irus, a fellow of yesterday, who has but twelve hundred a year, would be his equal. Bather than this shall be, Laertes goes on to bring well-born beggars into the world, and every twelvemonth charges his estate with at least one year's rent more by the birth of a child. Laertes and Irus are neighbors, whose way of living are an abomination to each other. Irus is moved by the fear of poverty, and Laertes by the shame of it. Though the motive of action is of so near affinity in both, and may be resolved into this, " That to each of them poverty is the greatest of all evils," yet are their man- ners very widely different. Shame of poverty makes Laertes launch into un- necessary equipage, vain expense, and lavish entertainments ; fear of poverty makes Irus allow himself only plain necessaries, appear without a servant, sell his own corn, attend his laborers, and be himself a laborer. Shame of poverty makes Laertes go every day a step nearer to it, and fear of poverty stirs up Irus to make every day some further progress from it. These different motives produce the excesses which men are guilty of in th negligence of and provision for them- selves. Usury, stock-jobbing, extortion and oppression, have their seed iu the dread of want ; and vanity, riot and pro- digality, from the shame of it ; but both these excesses are infinitely below the, pursuit of a reasonable creature. AfteK we have taken care to command so much as is necessary for maintaining ourselves in the order of men suitable to our char- acter, the care of superfluities is a vice no less extravagant, than the neglect of necessaries would have been before. It would methinks be no ill maxim of life, if according to that ancestor of Sir Roger, whom I lately mentioned, every man would point to himself what sum he would resolve not to exceed. He might by this means cheat himself into a tran- quillity on this side of that expectation, or convert what he should get above it to nobler uses than his own pleasures or necessities. 150 SIR ROGER DE COVERLEY. It is possible that the tranquillity I now enjoy at Sir Roger's may have created in me this way of thinking, which is so ab- stracted from the common relish of the world : but as I am now in a pleasing arbor surrounded with a beautiful land- skip, I find no inclination so strong as to continue in these mansions, so remote from the ostentatious scenes of life ; and am at this present writing philosopher enough to conclude with Mr. Cowley, If e'er ambition did my fancy cheat, With any wish so mean as to be great; Continue, Heaven, still from me to remove The humble blessings of that life I love 1 CHAPTER X. THE COVEELEY HUNT. IX tit men* tana in corpora sano. Juv. HAD not exercise been absolutely neces- sary for our well being, nature would not have made the body so proper for it, by giving such an activity to the limbs, and such a pliancy to every part as necessarily produce those compressions, extensions, contortions, dilatations, and all other kinds of motions that are necessary for the preservation of such a system of tubes and glands as has been before mentioned. And that we might not want inducements to engage us in such an exercise of the body as is proper for its welfare, it is so ordered that nothing valuable can be pro- cured without it. Not to mention riches and honor, even food and raiment are not to be come at without the toil of the hands and sweat of the brows. Providence furnishes materials, but expects that we should work them up ourselves. The earth must be labored before it gives its increase, and when it is forced into its several products, how many hands must they pass through before they are fit for use ? Manufactures, trade and agriculture, naturally employ more than nineteen parts of the species in twenty ; and as for those who are not obliged to labor, by the con- dition in which they are born, they are more miserable than the rest of mankind, unless they indulge themselves in that voluntary labor which goes by the name of exercise. My friend Sir Roger has been an inde- fatigable man in business of this kind, and has hung several parts of his house with the trophies of nis former labors. The walls of his great hall are covered with the horns of several kinds of deer that he has killed in the chase, which he thinks the most valuable furniture of his house, as they afford him frequent topics of discourse, and show that he has not been idle. At the lower end of the hall is a large otter's skin stuffed with hay, which his mother ordered to be hung up in that manner, and the knight looks upon with great satisfaction, because it seems he was but nine years old when his dog killed him. A little room adjoining to the hall is a kind of arsenal filled with guns of several sizes and inventions, with which the knight has made great havoc in the woods, and destroyed many thou- sands of pheasants, partridges and wood- cocks. His stable doors are patched with noses that belonged to foxes of the knight's own hunting down. Sir Roger showed me one of them that for distinc- tion sake has a brass nail struck through it, which cost him about fifteen hours riding, carried him through half a dozen counties, killed him a brace of geldings, and lost above half his dogs. This the knight looks upon as one of the greatest exploits of his life. The perverse widow, whom I have given some account of, was the death of several foxes ; for Sir Roger has told me that in the course of nis amours he patched the western door of his stable. Whenever the widow was cruel, the foxes were sure to pay for it. In pro- portion as his passion for the widow abated and old age came on, he left off fox-hunting; but a hare is not yet safe that sits within ten miles of his house. 1 After what has been said, I need not inform my readers, that Sir Roger, with whose character I hope they are at present pretty well acquainted, has in his youth gone through the whole course of those rural diversions which the country abounds in ; and which seem to be extremely well suited to that laborious industry a man may observe here in a far greater degree than in towns and cities. I have before hinted at some of my friend's exploits : he has in his youthful days taken forty coveys of partridges in a season ; and tired many a salmon with a line consist- ing but of a single hair. The constant thanks and good wishes of the neighbor- hood always attended him, on account of 1 The remainder of the chapter is by Budgell. SIB. KOGER DE COVEELEY. 151 his remarkable enmity towards foxes; having destroyed more of those vermin in one year, than it was thought the whole country could have produced. Indeed the Knight does not scruple to own among his most intimate friends, that in order to establish his reputation this way, he has secretly sent for great numbers of them out of other counties, which he used to turn loose about the country by night, that he might the better signalize himself in their destruction the next day. His hunting-horses were the finest and best managed in all these parts ; his tenants are still full of the praises of a gray stone-horse that unhappily staked himself several years since, and was buried with great solemnity in the orchard. Sir Roger, being at present too old for fox hunting, to keep himself in action, has disposed of his beagles and got a pack of stop -hounds. What these want in speed, he endeavors to make amends for by the deepness of their mouths and the variety of their notes, which are suited in such manner to each other, that the whole cry makes up a complete consort. He is so nice in this particular, that a gentleman having made him a present of a very fine hound the other day, the Knight returned it by the servant with a great many ex- pressions of civility ; but desired him to tell his master, that the dog he had sent was indeed a most excellent bass, but that at present he only wanted a counter-tenor. Could I believe my friend had ever read Shakespeare, I should certainly conclude he had taken the hint from Theseus in the Midsummer Night's Dream : My hounds are bred out of the Spartan kind, So flushed, so sanded 5 and their heads are hung With ears that sweep away the morning dew. Crook-kneed and dew-lapped like Thessalian bulls. Slow in pursuit, but matched in mouths like bells, Each under each : A cry more tuneable Was never bellowed to, nor cheered with horn. Sir Roger is so keen at this sport, that he has been out almost every day since I came down ; and upon the chaplain's offering to lend me his easy pad, I was prevailed on yesterday morning to make one of the company. I was extremely pleased, as we rid along, to observe the general benevolence of all the neighbor- hood towards my friend. The farmer's sons thought themselves happy if they could open a gate for the good old Knight, as he passed by ; which he generally re- quited with a nod or a smile, and a kind inquiry after their fathers and uncles. After we had rid about a mile from home, we came upon a large heath, and the sportsmen began to beat. They had done so for some time, when as I was at a little distance from the rest of the com- pany, I saw a hare pop out from a small furze brake almost under my horse's feet. I marked the way she took, which I endeavored to make the company sensible of by extending my arm ; but to no pur- pose, till Sir Roger, who knows that none of my extraordinary motions are insignifi- cant, rode up to me, and asked me " if puss was gone that way?" Upon my answering "yes,' 1 he immediately called in the dogs, and put them upon the scent. As they were going off, I heard one of the country fellows muttering to his com- panion, " That 't was a wonder they had not lost all their sport, for want of the silent gentleman's crying 'stole away.' " This, with my aversion to leaping hedges, made me withdraw to a rising ground, from whence I could have the pleasure of the whole chase, without the fatigue of keeping in with the hounds. The hare immediately threw them above a mile behind her ; but I was pleased to find, that instead of running straight for- wards, or in hunter's language, flying the country," as I was afraid she might have done, she wheeled about, and de- scribed a sort of circle round the hill where I had taken my station, in such manner as gave me a very distinct view of the sport. I could see her first pass by, and the dogs some time afterwards un- ravelling the whole track she had made, and following her through all her dou- bles. I was at the same time delighted in observing that deference which the rest of the pack paid to each particular hound, according to the character he had acquired amongst them : if they were at fault, and an old hound of reputation opened but once, he was immediately fol- lowed by the whole cry ; while a raw dog, or one that was a noted "liar," might have yelped his heart out, without being taken notice of. The hare now, after having squatted tw0 152 SIR ROGER DE COVERLEY. or three times, and been put up again as often, came still nearer to the place where she was at first started. The dogs pur- sued her, and these were followed by the jolly Knight, who rode upon a white geld- ing, encompassed by his tenants and ser- vants, and cheering his hounds with all the gaiety of five and twenty. One of the portsmen rode up to me, and told me, that he was sure the chase was almost at an end, because the old dogs, which had hitherto lain behind, now headed the Eack. The fellow was in the right. Our are took a large field just under us fol- lowed by the full cry " in view." I must confess the brightness of the weather, the cheerfulness ot every thing around me, the " chiding " of the hounds, which was returned upon us in a double echo from two neighboring hills, with the hollowing of the sportsmen, and the sounding of the horn, lifted my spirits into a most lively Jleasure, which I freely indulged because was sure it was innocent. If I was under any concern, it was on the account of the poor hare, that was now quite spent, and almost within the reach of her enemies ; when the huntsman getting forward threw down his pole before the dogs. They were now within eight yards of that game which they had been pur- suing for almost as many hours ; yet on the signal before-mentioned they all made a sudden stand, and though they con- tinued opening as much as before, durst not once attempt to pass beyond the pole. At the same time Sir Eoger rode forward, and alighting, took up the hare in his arms ; which he soon delivered up to one of his servants with an order, if she could be kept alive, to let her go in his great orchard ; where it seems he has several of these prisoners of war, who live together in a very comfortable captivity. I was highly pleased to see the discipline of the pack, and the good nature of the Knight, who could not find in his heart to murder a creature that had given him so much diversion. For my own part I intend to hunt twice a week during my stay with Sir Roger ; and shall prescribe the moderate use of this exercise to all my country friends, as the best kind of physic for mending a bad constitution, and preserving a good on. I cannot do this better, than in the fol- lowing lines out of Mr. Dryden : The first physicians by debauch were madei Excess began, and sloth sustains the trade. By chase our long-lived fathers earned their food; Toil strung the nerves, and purified the blood ; But we their sons, a pampered race of men, Are dwindled down to threescore years and ten. Better to hunt in fields for health unbought, Than see the doctor for a nauseous draught. The wise for cure on exercise depend : God never made his work for man to mend. CHAPTER XI. THE COVERLEY WITCH. Ipri tibi tomnia fingunt. VIEO. THERE are some opinions in which a man should stand neuter, without en- aging his assent to one side or the other, uch a hovering faith as this, which re- fuses to settle upon any determination, is absolutely necessary in a mind that is careful to avoid errors and prepossessions. When the arguments press equally on both sides in matters that are indifferent to us, the safest method is to give up ourselves to neither. It is with this temper of mind I con- sider the subject of witchcraft. When I hear the relations that are made from all parts of the world, not only from Norway and Lapland, from the East and West In- dies, but from every particular nation in Europe, I cannot forbear thinking that there is such an intercourse and com- merce with evil spirits, as that which we express by the name of witchcraft. But when I consider that the ignorant and credulous parts of the world abound most in these relations, and that the persons among us, who are supposed to engage in such an infernal commerce, are people of weak understanding and crazed imagina- tion, and at the same time reflect upon the many impostures and delusions of this nature that have been detected in all ages, I endeavor to suspend my belief till I hear more certain accounts than y which have yet come to my know- ledge. In short, when I consider the question, whether there are such persons in the world as those we call witches, my mind is divided between the two opposite opinions ; or rather (to speak my thoughts freely) I believe in general that there is SIR ROGER DE COVERLET. 153 and has been such a thing as witchcraft ; but at the same time can give no credit to any particular instance of it. I am engaged in this speculation, by some occurrences that I met with yester- day, which I shall give my reader an account of at large. As I was walking with my friend Sir Roger by the side of one of his woods, an old woman applied herself to me for my charity. Her dress and figure put me in mind of the follow- ing description in Otway: In a close lane as I pursued my journey, I spied a wrinkled hag, with age grown double, Picking dry sticks, and mumbling to her- self. Her eyes with scalding rheum were galled and red ; Cold palsy shook her head ; her hands seemed withered ; And on her crooked shoulders had she wrapped The tattered remnants of an old striped hanging, Which served to keep her carcass from the cold : So there was nothing of a piece about her. Her lower weeds were all o'er coarsely patched "With different colored rags, black, red, white, yellow, And seemed to speak variety of wretched- ness. As I was musing on this description, and comparing it with the object before me, the Knight told me, that this very old woman had the reputation of a witch all over the country, that her lips were observed to be always in motion, and that there was not a switch about her house which her neighbors did not believe had carried her several hundreds of miles. If she chanced to stumble, they always found sticks or straws that lay in the figure of a cross before her. If she made any mis- take at church, and cried Amen in a wrong place, they never failed to conclude that she was saying her prayers backwards. There was not a maid in the parish that would take a pin of her, though she should offer a bag of money with it. She goes by the name of Moll White, and has made the country ring with several imaginary exploits which are palmed upon her. If the dairy maic* does not make her butter come so soon as she should have it, Moll White ia at the bottom of the churn. If a horse sweats in the stable, Moll White has been upon his back. If a hare makes an unexpected escape from the hounds, the huntsman curses Moll White. Nay, (says Sir Roger) I have known the master of the pack upon such an occasion, send one of nis servants to see if Moll White has been out that morning. This account raised my curiosity so far, that I begged my friend Sir Roger to go with me into her hovel, which stood in a solitary corner under the side of the wood. Upon our first entering Sir Roger winked to me, and pointed at something that stood behind the door, which upon looking that way, I found to be an old broom staff. At the same time he whispered me in the ear to take notice of a tabby cat that sat in the chimney corner, which, as the old Knight told me, lay under as bad a report as Moll White herself; for besides that Moll is said often to accompany her in the same shape, the cat is reported to have spoken twice or thrice in her life, and to have played several pranks above th< capacity of an ordinary cat. I was secretly concerned to see human nature in so much wretchedness and dia> grace, but at the same time could not for- bear smiling to hear Sir Roger, who is a lit- tle puzzled about the old woman, advising her as a justice of peace to avoid all communication with the devil, and never to hurt any of her neighbor's cattle. We concluded our visit with a bounty, which, was very acceptable. In our return home, Sir Roger told me, that old Moll had been often brought before him for making children spit pins, and giving maids the night-mare ; and that the country people would be tossing her into a pond and trying experiments with her every day, if it was not for him and his chaplain. I have since found upon inquiry, that Sir Roger was several times staggered with the reports that had been brought him concerning this old woman, and would frequently have bound her over to the County Sessions had not his chaplain with much ado persuaded him to the contrary. I have been the more particular m this account, because I hear there is scarce a village in England that has not a Moll White in it. When an old woman begins 154 SIR ROGER DE COVERLEY. to dote, and grow chargeable to a parish, she is generally turned into a witch, and fills the whole country with extravagant fancies, imaginary distempers and terrify- ing dreams. In the meantime, the poor wretch that is the innocent occasion of so many evils begins to be frighted at her- self, and sometimes confesses secret com- merce and familiarities that her imagina- tion forms in a delirious old age. This frequently cuts off charity from the great- est objects of compassion, and inspires people with a malevolence towards those poor decrepit parts of our species, in whom human nature is defaced by infirm- ity and dotage. CHAPTER XII. A COVERLEY LOVE MATCH. 1 Hscret lateri lethalis arundo. VIBO. THIS agreeable seat is surrounded with go many pleasing walks which are struck out of a wood in the midst of which the house stands, that one can hardly ever be weary of rambling from one labyrinth of delight to another. To one used to live in a city the charms of the country are so exquisite, that the mind is lost in a cer- tain transport which raises us above ordi- nary life, and is yet not strong enough to be inconsistent with tranquillity. This state of mind was I in, ravished with the murmur of waters, the whisper of breezes, the singing of birds ; and whether I looked up to the heavens, down to the earth, or turned on the prospects around me, still struck with new sense of pleasure; when I found by the voice of my friend, who walked by me, that we had insensibly strolled into the grove sacred to the widow. This woman, says he, is of all others the most unintelligible ; she either designs to marry, or she does not. What is the most perplexing of all, is, that she doth not either say to her lovers she has any reso- lution against that condition of life in general, or that she banishes them ; but conscious of her own merit, she permits their addresses without fear of any ill consequence, or want of respect, from their rage or despair. She has that in her as- pect, against which it is impossible to offend. A man whose thoughts are con- l By Stoele. stantly built upon so agreeable an object, must be excused if the ordinary occur- rences in conversation are below his at- tention. I call her indeed perverse, but, alas ! why do I call her so ? Because her superior merit is such, that I cannot ap- proach her without awe, that my heart is checked by too much esteem : I am angry that her charms are not more accessible, that I am more inclined to worship than salute her: how often have I wished her unhappy that I might have an opportu- nity of serving her? and how often trou- bled in that very imagination, at giving her the pain of being obliged? Well, I have led a miserable life in secret upcn her account; but fancy she would have condescended to have some regard for me, if it had not been for that watchful animal her confidant. Of all persons under the sun (continued he, calling me by my name) be sure to set a mark upon confidants : they are of all people the most impertinent. What is most pleasant to observe in them, is, that they assume to themselves the merit of the persons whom they have in their custody. Orestilla is a great fortune, and in wonderful danger of surprises, there- fore full of suspicions of the least indiffer- ent thing, particularly careful of new ac- quaintance, and of growing too familiar with the old. Themista, her favorite- woman, is every whit as careful of whom she speaks to, and what she says. Let the ward be a beauty, her confidant shall treat you with an air of distance ; let her be a fortune, and she assumes the suspi- cious behavior of her friend and patron- ess. Thus it is that very many of our un- married women of distinction are to all intents and purposes married, except the consideration of different sexes. They are directly under the conduct of their whisperer: and think they are in a state of freedom, while they can prate with one of these attendants of all men in general, and still avoid the man they most like. You do not see one heiress in a hundred whose fate does not turn upon this circumstance of choosing a confidant. Thus it is that the lady is addressed to, presented and flattered, only by proxy, in her woman. In my case, how is it possi- ble that Sir Roger was proceeding in his ha- rangue, when he heard the voice of one SIR ROGER DE COVERLEY. 155 speaking very importunately, and re- peating these words, "What, not one smile?" We followed the sound till we came to a close thicket, on the other side of which we saw a young woman sitting as it were in a personated sullenness just over a transparent fountain. Opposite to her stood Mr. William, Sir Roger's master of the game. The knight whispered me, " Hist, these are lovers." The huntsman looking earnestly at the shadow of the young maiden in the stream, '' Oh thou dear picture, if thou couldst remain there in the absence of that fair creature whom you represent in the water, how willingly could I stand here satisfied for ever, without troubling my dear Betty herself with any mention of her unfortunate William, whom she is angry with : but alas ! when she pleases to be gone, thou wilt also vanish. Yet let me talk to thee while thou dost stay. Tell my dear- est Betty thou dost not more depend upon her, than does her William : her absence will make away with me as well as thee. If she offers to remove thee, I'll jump into these waves to lay hold on thee; herself, her own dear person, I must never embrace again. - Still do you hear me without one smile. It is too much to bear " He had no sooner spoke these words but he made an offer of throwing himself into the water: at which his mistress started up, and at the next instant he jumped across the foun- tain and met her in an embrace. She half recovering from her fright, said in the most charming voice imaginable, and with a tone of complaint, " I thought how well you would drown yourself. No, no, you won't drown yourself till you have taken your leave of Susan Holiday." The huntsman, with a tenderness that spoke the most passionate love, and with his cheek close to hers, whispered the softest vows of fidelity in her ear, and cried, " Don't, my dear, believe a word Kate Willow says ; she is spiteful and makes stories, because she loves to hear me talk to herself for your sake." Look you there, quoth Sir Roger, do you see there, all mischief comes from confidants! But let us not interrupt them ; the maid is honest, and the man dares not be otherwise, for he knows I loved her father ; I will interpose in this matter, and hasten the wedding. Kate Willow is a witty mischievous wench in the neighborhood, who was a beauty ; and makes me hope I shall see the per- verse widow in her condition. She was so flippant with her answers to all the honest fellows that came near her, and so very vain of her beauty, that she has valued herself upon her charms till they are ceased. She therefore now makes it her business to prevent other young women from being more discreet than she was herself: however, the saucy thing said the other day well enough, "Sir Roger and I must make a match, for we are both despised by those we loved : " the hussy has a great deal of power wherever she comes, and has her share of cunning. However, when I reflect upon this woman, I do not know whether in the main I am the worse for having loved her : whenever she is recalled to my im- agination my youth returns, and I feel a forgotten warmth in my veins. This affliction in my life has streaked all my conduct with a softness, of which I should otherwise have been incapable. It is, perhaps, to this dear image in my heart owing, that I am apt to relent, that I easily forgive, and that many desirable things are grown into my temper, which I should not nave arrived at by better mo- tives than the thought of being one day hers. I am pretty well satisfied such a pas- sion as I have had is never well cured ; and between you and me, I am often apt to imagine it has had some whimsical effect upon my brain: for I frequently find, that in my most serious discourse I let fall some comical familiarity of speech or odd phrase that makes the company laugh ; however, I cannot but allow she is a most excellent woman. When she is in the country I warrant she does not run into dairies, but reads upon the nature of plants ; but has a glass hive, and comes into the garden out of books to see them work, and observe the policies of their commonwealth. She understands every- thing. I'd give ten pounds to hear her argue with my friend Sir Andrew Free- port about trade. No, no, for all she looks so innocent as it were, take my word for it she is no fool. 156 SIR ROGER DE COVEIiLEY. CHAPTER XIII. THE COVERLEY ETI- QUETTE. Vrbem quam dicunt Romam, Sfelibcee, putavi Btultui ego huic nostrse similem. VIES. THE first and most obvious reflections which arise in a man who changes the city for the country, are upon the different manners of the people whom he meets with in those two different scenes of life. By manners I do not mean morals, but behavior and good-breeding as they show themselves in the town and in the country. And here, in the first place, I must ob- serve a very great revolution that has happened in this article of good-breeding. Several obliging deferences, condescen- sions and submissions, with many outward forms and ceremonies that accompany them, were first of all brought up among the politer part of mankind, who lived in courts and cities, and distinguished them- selves from the rustic part of the species (who on all occasions acted bluntly and naturally) by such a mutual complaisance and intercourse of civilities. These forms of conversation by degrees multiplied and grew troublesome ; the modish world found too great a constraint in them, and have therefore thrown most of them aside. Conversation, like the Romish religion, waa so encumbered with show and cere- mony, that it stood in need of a reforma- tion to retrench its superfluities, and re- store it to its natural good sense and beauty. At present, therefore, an uncon- strained carriage, and a certain openness of behavior, are the height of good- breeding. The fashionable world is grown free and easy ; our manners sit more loose upon us : nothing is so modish as an agreeable negligence. In a word, good- breeding shows itself most, where to an ordinary eye it appears the least. If after this we look on the people of mode in the country, we find in them the manners of the last age. They have no sooner fetched themselves up to the fashion of the polite world, but the town has dropped them, and are nearer to the first state of nature than to those refine- ments which formerly reigned in the court, and still prevail in the country. One may now know a man that never conversed in the world by his excess of pood breeding. A polite country squire shall make you as many bows in half an hour, as would serve a courtier for a week. There is infinitely more to do about place and precedency in a meeting of justices' wives, than in an assembly of duchesses. This rural politeness is very trouble- some to a man of my temper, who gene- rally take the chair that is next me, and walk first or last, in the front or in the rear, as chance directs. I have known my friend Sir Roger's dinner almost cold before the company could adjust the cere- monial, and be prevailed upon to sit down, and have heartily pitied my old friend, when I have seen him forced to pick and cull his guests, as they sat at the several parts of his table, that he might drink their healths according to their re- spective ranks and qualities. Honest Will Wimble, who I should have thought had been altogether uninfected with cere- mony, gives me abundance of trouble in this particular. Though he has been fishing all the morning, he will not help himself at dinner till I am served. When we are going out of the hall, he runs be- hind me, and last night, as we were walk- ing in the fields, stopped short at a stile till I came up to it ; and upon my making signs to him to get over, told me, with a serious smile, that sure I believed they had no manners in the country. There has happened another revolution in the point of good breeding, which re- lates to the conversation among men of mode, and which I cannot but look upon as very extraordinary. It was certainly one of the first distinctions of a well-bred man, to express every thing that had the most remote appearance of being obscene, in modest terms and distant phrases ; whilst the clown, who had no such delicacy of conception and expression, clothed his ideas in those plain homely terms that are the most obvious and natural. This kind of good manners was perhaps carried to an excess, so as to make conversation too stiff, formal and precise: for which reason (as hypocrisy in one age is generally succeeded by atheism in another) conversation is in a great measure relapsed into the first ex- treme ; so that at present several of our men of the town, and particularly those who have been polished in France, make use of the most coarse uncivilized words in our language, and utter themselves often in such a manner as a clown would blush to hear. SIR ROGER DE COVERLEY. 157 This infamous piece of good breeding, which reigns among the coxcombs of the town, has not yet made its way into the country; and as it is impossible for such an irrational way of conversation to last long among a people that make any pro- fession of religion, or show of modesty, if the country gentlemen get into it they will certainly be left in the lurch. Their good breeding will come too late to them, and they will be thought a parcel of lewd clowns, while they fancy themselves talk- ing together like men of wit and pleasure. As the two points of good breeding which I have hitherto insisted upon, re- gard behavior and conversation, there is a third which turns upon dress. In this too the country are very much behind- hand. The rural beaus are not yet got out of the fashion that took place at the time of the revolution, but ride about the country in red coats and laced hats, while the women in many parts are still trying to outvie one another in the height of their head dresses. CHAPTEB XIV. THE COVERLEY DTJCKS. Equidem credo, quia tit Dvrinitut illit Ingenium. VIEO. MY friend Sir Roger is very often merry with me upon my passing so much of my time among his poultry. He has caught me twice or thrice looking after a bird's nest, and several times sitting an hour or two together near an hen and chickens. He tells me he believes I am personally acquainted with every fowl about his house; calls such a particular cock my favorite, and frequently complains that his ducks and geese have more of iny com- pany than himself. I must confess I am infinitely delighted with those speculations of nature which are to be made in a country life ; and as my reading has very much lain among books of natural history, I cannot forbear recollecting upon this occasion the several remarks which I have met with in authors, and comparing them with what falls under my own observation : The arguments for Providence drawn from the natural history of animals being in my opinion demon- strative. It is astonishing to consider the different degrees of care that descend from the parent to the young, so far as is absolutely necessary for the leaving a posterity. Some creatures cast their eggs as chance directs them, and think of them no farther, as insects and several kinds of fish ; others of a nicer frame, find out proper beds to deposit them in, and there leave them ; as the serpent, the crocodile and the ostrich : others hatch their eggs and tend the birth, till it is able to shift for itself. What can we call the principle which directs every different kind of bird to observe a particular plan in the structure of its nest, and direct all the same species to work after the same model ? It cannot be imitation ; for though you hatch a crow under a hen, and never let it see any of the works of its own kind, the nest it makes shall be the same to the laying of a stick, with all the other nests of the same species. It cannot be reason ; for were animals indued with it to as great a degree as man, their buildings would be as different as ours, according to the different conveniences that they would propose to themselves. Is it not remarkable, that the same temper of weather, which raises this geni- al warmth in animals, should cover the trees with leaves, and the fields with grass, for their security and concealment, and produce such infinite swarms of in- sects for the support and sustenance of their respective broods ? Is it not wonderful that the love of the parent should be so violent while it lasts, and that it should last no longer than is necessary for the preservation of the young? With what caution does the hen pro- vide herself a nest in places unfrequented, and free from noise and disturbance? When she has laid her eggs in such a manner, that she can cover them, what care does she take in turning them fre- quently, that all parts may partake of the vital warmth ? When she leaves them to provide for her necessary sustenance, how punctually does she return before they have time to cool, and become incapable of producing an animal? In the summer you see her giving herself greater free- doms, and quitting her care for above two hours together ; but in winter, when the rigor of the season would chill the prin- ciples of life, and destroy the young ojie, she grows more assiduous in her attend- 153 SIR ROGER DE COVERLET. ance, and stays away but half the time. When the birth approaches, with how much nicety and attention does she help the chick to break its prison ? Not to take notice of her covering it from the injuries of the weather, providing it proper nour- ishment, and teaching it to help itself; nor to mention her forsaking the nest, if after the usual time of reckoning the young one does not make its appearance. A chemical operation could not be fol- lowed with greater art or diligence, than is seen in the hatching of a chick ; though there are many other birds that show an infinitely greater sagacity in all the fore- mentioned particulars. But at the same time the hen, that has all this seeming ingenuity (which is in- deed absolutely necessary for the propa- gation of the species), considered in other respects, is without the least glimmerings of thought or common sense. She mis- takes a piece of chalk for an egg, and sits upon it in the same manner : she is in- sensible of any increase or diminution in the number of those she lays: she does not distinguish between her own and those of another species ; and when the birth appears of never so different a bird, will cherish it for her own. In all these cir- cumstances which do not carry an im- mediate regard to the subsistence of her- self or her species, she is a very idiot. There is not, in my opinion, any thing more mysterious in nature than this in- stinct in animals, which thus rises above reason, and falls infinitely short of it. It cannot be accounted for by any properties in matter, and at the same time works after so odd a manner, that one cannot think it the faculty of an intellectual being. For my own part, I look upon it as upon the principle of gravitation in bodies, which is not to be explained by any known qualities inherent in the bodies themselves, nor from any laws of mechanism, but, according to the best notions of the greatest philosophers, is an immediate impression from the first mover and the divine energy acting in the crea- tures. As I was walking this morning in the great yard that belongs to my friend's country-house, I was wonderfully pleased to see the different workings of instinct in a hen followed by a brood of ducks. The young, upon the sight of a pond, imme- diately ran into it; while the step-mother, with all imaginable anxiety, hovered about the borders of it, to call them out of an element that appeared to her so dangerous and destructive. As the dif- ferent principle which acted in these dif- ferent animals cannot be termed reason, so when we call it instinct, we mean something we have no knowledge of. To me, as I hinted in my last paper, it seems the immediate direction of providence, and such an operation of the Supreme Being, as that which determines all the portions of matter to their proper centres. A modern philosopher, quoted by Monsieur Bayle in his learned Dissertation on the Souls of Brutes, delivers the same opinion, though in a bolder form of words, where he says, Deus est Anima Brutorum, God himself is the Soul of Brutes. Who can tell what to call that seeming sagacity in animals, which directs them to such food as is proper for them, and makes them naturally avoid whatever is noxious or unwholesome ? Tully has observed, that a lamb no sooner falls from its mother, but immediately and of his own accord applies itself to the teat. Dampier, in his Travels, tells us, that when seamen are thrown upon any of the unknown coasts of America, they never venture upon the fruit of any tree, how tempting soever it may appear, unless they observe it is marked with the pecking of birds ; but fall on without any fear or apprehension where the birds have been before them. CHAPTER XV. SIR ROGER ON THE BENCH. Comes jucwndut in via pro vehiculo est. PUBL. A MAN'S first care should be to avoid the reproaches of his own heart ; his next, to escape the censures of the world : If the last interferes with the former, it ought to be entirely neglected ; but other- wise there cannot be a greater satisfaction to an honest mind, than to see those ap- probations which it gives itself seconded by the applauses of the public : A man is more sure of his conduct, when the verdict which he passes upon his own behavior is thus warranted and confirmed by the opinion of all that know him. My worthy friend Sir Roger is one of those who is not only at peace within himself, but beloved and esteemed by all SIR ROGER DE COVERLEY. 159 about him. He receives a suitable tribute for his universal benevolence to mankind, in the returns of affection and good will, which are paid him by every one that lives within his neighborhood. I lately met with two or three odd instances of that general respect which is shown to the good old Knight. He would needs carry Will Wimble and myself with him to the county assizes : As we were upon the road Will Wimble joined a couple of plain men who rid before us, and con- versed with them for some time ; during which my friend Sir Roger acquainted me with their characters. The first of them, says he, that has a spaniel by his side, is a yeoman of about an hundred pounds a year, an honest man : He is just within the game act, 1 and qualified to kill an hare or a pheas- ant : He knocks down a dinner with his gun twice or thrice a week ; and by that means lives much cheaper than those who have not so good an estate as himself. He would be a good neighbor if he did not destroy so many partridges : in short, he is a very sensible man ; shoots flying ; and has been several times foreman of the petty jury. The other that rides along with him is Tom Touchy, a fellow famous for taking the law of every body. There is not one in the town where he lives that he has not sued at a quarter sessions. The rogue had once the impudence to go to law with the widow. His head is full of costs, damages and ejectments : He plagued a couple of honest gentlemen so long for a trespass in breaking one of his hedges, till he was forced to sell the ground it enclosed to defray the charges of the prosecution . 1 The 3d of James the First, chap. 44, clause v. pro- Tides that if any person who has not real property pro- ducing forty pounds per ann. : or who has not two hundred pounds worth of goods and chattels, shall pre- sume to shoot game : " Then any person having lands, tenements, or hereditaments, of the clear yearly value of one hundred pounds a year, may take from the person or possession of such malefactor or malefactors and to his own use for ever keep, such guns, bows, cross-bows, buckstalls, engine-hays, nets, ferrets, and coney dogs, Ac." This amiable enactment, which permitted a one- hundred-pound-freeholder to become in his single per- son, accuser, witness, judge, jury, and executioner; and which made an equally respectable but poorer man who hot a hare a " malefactor," was the law of the land eTen so lately as 1827. His father left him fourscore pounds a year; but he has cast and been cast so often, that he is not now worth thirty. I suppose he is going upon the old business of the willow tree. As Sir Roger was giving' me this account of Tom Touchy, Will Wimble and his two companions stopped short till we came up to them. After having paid their respects to Sir Roger, Will told him that Mr. Touchy and he must appeal to him upon a dispute that arose between them. Will it seems had been giving his fellow- travellers an account of his angling one day in such a hole ; when Tom Touchy, instead of hearing out his story told him that Mr. such a one, if he pleased, might take the law of him for fishing in that part of the river. My friend Sir Roger heard them both, upon a round trot; and after having paused some time told them, with an air of a man who would not give his judgment rashly, that "much might be said on both sides." They were neither of them dissatisfied with the Knight's de- termination, because neither of them found himself in the wrong by it : upon which we made the best of our way to the assizes. The court was sat before Sir Roger came ; but notwithstanding all the justices had taken their places upon the bench, they made room for the old Knight at the head of them; who for his reputation in the country took occasion to whisper in the judge's ear, " That he was glad his lordship had met with so much good weather in his circuit." I was listening to the proceed- ings of the court with much attention, and infinitely pleased with that great appear- ance and solemnity which so properly accompanies such a public administration of our laws ; when, after about an hour's sitting, I observed to my great surprise, in the midst of a trial, that my friend Sir Ro- ger was getting up to speak. I was in some pain for him, till I found he had acquitted himself of two or three sentences, with a look of much business and great intre- pidity. Upon his first rising the court was hushed, and a general whisper ran among the country people that Sir Roger was up. The speech he made was so little to the purpose, that I shall not trouble my readers with an account of it ; and I be- lieve was not so much designed by the Knight himself to inform the court, as to 160 SIE ROGER DE COVERLET. give him a figure in my eye, and keep up his credit in the country. I was highly delighted when the court rose, to see the gentlemen of the country gathering about my old friend, and striv- ing who should compliment him most ; at the same time that the ordinary people gazed upon him from a distance, not a little admiring his courage, that was not afraid to speak to the judge. In our return home we met with a very odd accident ; which I cannot forbear re- lating, because it shows how desirous all who know Sir Eoger are of giving him marks of their esteem. When we were arrived upon the verge of his estate, we stopped at a little inn to rest ourselves and our horses. The man of the house had it seems been formerly a servant in the Knight's family ; and to do honor to his old master, had some time since, un- known to Sir Roger, put him up in a sign-post before the door; so that the Knight's Head had hung out upon the road about a week before he himself knew anything of the matter. As soon as Sir Eoger was acquainted with it, find- ing that his servant's indiscretion pro- ceeded wholly from affection and good- will, he only told him that he had made him too high a compliment ; and when the fellow seemed to think that could hardly be, added with a more decisive look, that it was too great an honor for any man under a duke; but told him at the same time, that it might be altered with a very fewtouches, and that he him- self would be at the charge of it. Accord- ingly they got a painter by the Knight's directions to add a pair of whiskers to the face, and by a little aggravation of the features to change it into the Sara- cen's Head. I should not have known this story had not the innkeeper, on Sir Roger's alighting, told him in my hear- ing, that his honor's head was brought back last night with the alterations that he had ordered to be made in it. Upon this my friend with his usual cheerfulness related the particulars above-mentioned, and ordered the head to be brought into the room. I could not forbear discover- ing greater expressions of mirth than ordinary upon the appearance of this monstrous face, under which, notwith- standing it was made to frown and stare in a most extraordinary manner. I could still discover a distant resemblance of my old friend. Sir Roger, upon seeing me laugh, desired me to tell him truly if I thought it possible for people to know him in that disguise. I at first kept my usual silence : but upon the Knight's con- juring me to tell him whether it was not still more like himself than a Saracen, I composed my countenance in the best manner I could, and replied, that much might be said on both sides. These several adventures, with the Knight's behavior in them, gave me as pleasant a day as ever I met with in any of my travels. CHAPTER XVI. A STORY OP AN HEIR. Doctrina sed vim promovet insitam, Rectique culttif pectora robormit : Utcunqiie defecere mores, DedecormU bene nata culpse. HOB. As I was yesterday taking the air with my friend Sir Roger, we were met by a fresh-colored ruddy young man who rid by us full speed, with a couple of servants behind him. Upon my inquiry who he was, Sir Roger told me that he was a young gentleman of a considerable estate, who had been educated by a tender mother that lived not many miles from the place where we were. She is a very good lady, says my friend, but took so much care of her son's health that she has made him good for nothing. She quickly found that reading was bad for his eyes, and that writing made his head ache. He was let loose among the woods as soon as he was able to ride on horse- back, or to carry a gun upon his shoul- der. To be brief, I found, by my friend's account of him, that he had got a great stock of health, but nothing else ; and that if it were a man's business only to live, there would not be a more accom- plished young fellow in the whole coun- try. The truth of it is, since my residing in these parts I have seen and heard innu- merable instances of young heirs and el- der brothers who either from their own reflecting upon the estates they are born to, and therefore thinking all other ac- complishments unnecessary, or from hear- ing these notions frequently inculcated to them by the flattery of their servants and domestics, or from the same foolish SIR ROGER DE COVERLEY. 161 thought prevailing in those who have the care of their education, are of no manner of use but to keep up their families, and transmit their land and houses in a line to posterity. This makes me often think on a story I have heard of two friends, which I shall give my reader at large, under feigned names. The moral of it may, I hope, be useful, though there are some circumstan- ces which make it rather appear like a novel than a true story. Eudoxus and Leontine began the world with small estates. They were both of them men of good sense and great virtue. They prosecuted their studies together in their earlier years, and entered into such a friendship as lasted to the end of their lives. Eudoxus, at his first setting out in the world, threw himself into a court, where by his natural endowments and his acquired abilities he made his way from one post to another, till at length he had raised a very considerable fortune. Leon- tine on the contrary sought all opportuni- ties of improving his mind by study, con- versation, and travel. He was not only accquainted with all the sciences, but with the most eminent professors of them throughout Europe. He knew perfectly well the interest of its princes, with the customs and fashions of their courts, and could scarce meet with the name of an extraordinary person in the Gazette whom he had not either talked to or seen. In short, he had so well mixed and digested his knowledge of men and books, that he made one of the most accomplished per- sons of his age. During the whole course of his studies and travels he kept up a punctual correspondence with Eudoxus, who often made himself acceptable to the principal men about court by the intelli- gence he received from Leontine. When they were both turned of forty (an age in which, according to Mr. Cowley, there is no dallying with life) they determined, pursuant to the resolution they had taken in the beginning of their lives, to retire and pass the remainder of their days in the country. In order to this, they both of them married about the same time. Leontine, with his own and his wife's for- tune, bought a farm of three hundred a year, which lay within the neighborhood of his friend Eudoxus, who had purchased an estate of as many thousands. They were both of them fathers about the same VOL. II. W. H. time, Eudoxus having a son born to him, and Leontine a daughter ; but to the un- speakable grief of the latter, his young wife (in whom all his happiness was wrapped up) died in a few days after the birth of her daughter. His affliction would have been insupportable, had not he been comforted by the daily visits and conversations of his friend. As they were one day talking together with their usual intimacy, Leontine, considering how in^ capable he was of giving his daughter a proper education in his own house, and Eudoxus, reflecting on the ordinary be- havior of a sou, who knows himself to be the heir of a great estate, they both agreed upon an exchange of children, namely that the boy should be bred up with Leon- tine as his son, and that the girl should live with Eudoxus as his daughter, till they were each of them arrived at years of discretion. The wife of Eudoxus, knowing that her son could not be so ad- vantageously brought up an under the care of Leontine, and considering at the same time that he would be perpetually under her own eye, was by degrees pre- vailed upon to fall in with the project. She therefore took Leonilla, for that was the name of the girl, and educated her as her own daughter. The two friends on each side had wrought themselves to such an habitual tenderness for the children who were under their direction, that each of them had the real passion of a father, where the title was but imaginary. Florio, the name of the young heir that lived with Leontine, though he had all the duty and affection imaginable for his sup- posed parent, was.taught to rejoice at the sight of Eudoxus, who visited his friend very frequently, and was dictated by his natural affection, as well as by the rules of prudence, to make himself esteemed and beloved by Florio. The boy was now old enough to know his supposed father's circumstances, and that therefore he was to make his way in the world by his own industry. This consideration grew stronger in him every day, and produced so good an effect, that he applied himself with more than ordinary attention to the pursuit of everything which Leontine recommended to him. His natural abili- ties, which were very good, assisted by the directions of so excellent a counsel- lor, enabled him to make a quicker pro- gress than ordinary through all the part* 162 SIR ROGER DE COVERLEY. of his education. Before he was twenty years of age, having finished his studies and exercises with great applause, he was removed from the university to the Inns of Court, where there are very few that make themselves considerable proficients in the studies of the place, who know they shall arrive at great estates without them. This was not Florio's case ; he found that three hundred a year was but a poor estate for Leontine and himself to live upon, so that he studied without intermission till he gained a very good insight into the constitution and laws of his country. I should have told my reader, that whilst Florio lived at the house of his foster-father he was always an acceptable guest in the family of Eudoxus, where he became acquainted with Leonilla from her infancy. His acquaintance with her by degrees grew into love, which in a mind trained up in all the sentiments of honor and virtue became a very uneasy passion. He despaired of gaining an heiress of so great a fortune, and would rather have died than attempted it by any indirect methods. Leonilla, who was a woman of the greatest beauty joined with the greatest modesty, entertained at the same time a secret passion for Florio, but conducted herself with so much prudence that she never gave him the least intima- tion of it. Florio was now engaged in all those arts and improvements that are proper to raise a man's private fortune, and give him a figure in his country, but secretly tormented with that passion which burns with the greatest fury in a virtuous and noble heart, when he re- ceived a summons from Leontine to re- pair to him in the country the next day. For it seems Eudoxus was so filled with the report of his son's reputation, that he could no longer withhold making himself known to him. The morning after his arrival at the house of his supposed father, Leontine told him that Eudoxus had something of great importance to communicate to him ; upon which the good man embraced him and wept. Florio was no sooner arrived at the great house that stood in his neighborhood, but Eudoxus took him by the hand, after the first salutes were over, and conducted him into his closet. He there opened to him the whole secret of his parentage and education, concluding after this man- ner: "I have no other way left of ac- knowledging my gratitude to Leontine, than by marrying you to his daughter. He shall not lose the pleasure of being your father by the discovery I have made to you. Leonilla too shall be still my daughter; her filial piety, though mis- placed, has been so exemplary that it de- serves the greatest reward I can confer upon it. You shall have the pleasure of seeing a great estate fall to you, which you would have lost the relish of had you known yourself born to it. Continue only to deserve it in the same manner you did before you were possessed of it. I have left your mother in the next room. Her heart yearns towards you. She is making the same discoveries to Leonilla which I have made to yourself." Florio was so overwhelmed with this profusion of happiness, that he was not able to make a reply, but threw himself down at his father's feet, and amidst a flood of tears, kissed and embraced his knees, asking his blessing, and expressing in dumb show those sentiments of love, duty and gratitude that were too big for utterance. To conclude, the happy pair were married, and half Eudoxus's estate settled upon them. Leontine and Eu- doxus passed the remainder of their lives together ; and received in the dutiful and affectionate behavior of Florio and Le- onilla the just recompense, as well as the natural effects, of that care which they had bestowed upon them in their educa- tion. CHAPTER XVII. SIR ROGER AND PARTY SPIRIT. Ne, pueri, ne tanta animis assvescite bella : Neu patrix validat in viscera vertite vires. VIEO. MY worthy friend, Sir Eoger, when we are talking of the malice of parties, very frequently tells us an accident that happened to him when he was a school- boy, which was a time when the feuds ran high between the Bound-heads and Cavaliers. This worthy knight, being then but a stripling, had occasion to in- quire which was the way to St. Anne's lane, upon which the person whom he spoke to, instead of answering his ques- tion, called him a young popish cur, and asked him who had made Anne a saint I The boy, being in some confusion, in- quired of the next he met, which was the SIR ROGER DE COVERLEY. 163 way to Anne's lane; but was called a prick-eared cur for his pains, and instead of being shown the way, was told that she had been a Saint before he was born, and would be one after he was hanged. Upon this, says Sir Roger, I did not think fit to repeat my former question, but going into every lane in the neigh- borhood, asked what they called the name of that lane. By which ingenious arti- fice he found out the place inquired after, without giving offence to any party. Sir Roger generally closes this narrative with reflections on the mischief that parties do in the country ; how they spoil good neighborhood, and make honest gentle- men hate one another ; besides that, they manifestly tend to the prejudice of the land-tax, and the destruction of the game. There cannot a greater judgment befall a country than such a dreadful spirit of division as rends a government into two distinct people, and makes them greater strangers and more averse to one another, than if they were actually two different nations. The effects of such a division are pernicious to the last degree, not only with regard to those advantages which they give the common enemy, but to those private evils which they produce in the heart of almost every particular person. This influence is very fatal both to men's morals and their understandings ; it sinks the virtue of a nation, and not only so, but destroys even common sense. A furious party spirit, when it rages in its full violence, exerts itself in civil war and bloodshed ; and when it is under its greatest restraints naturally breaks out in falsehood, detraction, calumny, and a partial administration of justice. In a word, it fills a nation with spleen and rancor, and extinguishes all the seeds of good-nature, compassion, and humanity. I remember to have read in Diodorus Siculus an account of a very active little animal, which I think he calls the ichneu- mon, that makes it the whole business of hia life to break the eggs of the crocodile, which he is always in search after. This instinct is the more remarkable, because the ichneumon never feeds upon the eggs he has broken, nor any other way finds his account in them. Were it not for the incessant labors of this industrious animal, Egypt, says the historian, would be over- run with crocodiles; for the Egyptians are so far from destroying those pernicious creatures, that they worship them as gods. If we look into the behavior of ordi- nary partisans, we shall find them far from resembling this disinterested animal ; and rather acting after the example of the wild Tartars, who are ambitious of de- stroying a man of the most extraordinary parts and accomplishments, as thinking that upon his decease the same talents, whatever post they qualified him for, enter of course into his destroyer. As in the whole train of my specu- lations, I have endeavored as much as I am able to extinguish that pernicious spirit of passion and prejudice, which rages with the same violence in all par- ties, I am still the more desirous of doing some good in this particular, because I observe that the spirit of party reigns more in the country than in the town. It here contracts a kind of brutality and rustic fierceness, to which men of a politer conversation are wholly strangers. It ex- tends itself even to the return of the bow and the hat ; and at the same time that the heads of parties preserve towards one another an outward show of good-breed- ing, and keep up a perpetual intercourse of civilities, their tools that are dispersed in these outlying parts will not so much as mingle together at a cock-match. This humor fills the country with several peri- odical meetings of whig jockies and tory fox-hunters ; not to mention the innu- merable curses, frowns, and whispers it produces at a quarter-sessions. I do not know whether I have observed in any of my former papers, that my friends Sir Roger de Coverley and Sir An- drew Freeport are of different principles, the first of them inclined to the landed and the other to the monied interest. This humor is so moderate in each of them, that it proceeds no farther than to an agreeable raillery, which very often diverts the rest of the club. I find however that the Knight is a much stronger tory in the country than in town, which, as he has told me in my ear, is absolutely necessary for the keeping up his interest. In all our journey from London to his house we did not so much as bait at a whig-inn ; or if by chance the coachman stopped at a wrong place, one of Sir Roger's servants would ride up to his master full speed, and whisper to him that the master of the house was against such an one in the last 164 SIR ROGER DE COVERLET. election. This often betrayed us into hard beds and bad cheer; for we were not so inquisitive about the inn as the inn keeper ; and, provided our landlord's principles were sound, did not take any notice of the staleness of his provisions. This I found still the more inconvenient, because the better the host was, the worse generally were his accommodations ; the fellow knowing very well that those who were his friends would take up with coarse diet and an hard lodging. For these reasons, all the while I was upon the road I dreaded entering into an house of any one that Sir Roger had applauded for an honest man. Since my stay at Sir Roger's in the country, I daily find more instances of this narrow party humor. Being upon a bowling-green at a neighboring market- town the other day (for that is the place where the gentlemen of one side meet once a week), I observed a stranger among them of a better presence and genteeler behavior than ordinary; but was much surprised that notwithstanding he was a very fair better, nobody would take him up. But upon inquiry I found, that he was one who had given a disagreeable vote in a former parliament, for which reason there was not a man upon that bowling-green who would have so much correspondence with him as to win his money of him. Among other instances of this nature, I must not omit one which concerns my- self. Will Wimble was the other day relating several strange stories that he had picked up, nobody knows where, of a certain great man ; and upon my staring at him, as one that was surprised to hear such things in the country, which had never been so much as whispered in the town, Will stopped short in the thread of his discourse, and after dinner asked my friend, Sir^Roger, in his ear, if he was sure that I was not a fanatic. It gives me a serious concern to see such a spirit of dissension in the country ; not only as it destroys virtue and common sense, and renders us in a manner bar- barians towards one another, but as it perpetuates our animosities, widens our breaches, and transmits our present pas- sions and prejudices to our posterity. For my own part, I am sometimes afraid that I discover the seeds of a civil war in these our divisions ; and therefore cannot but bewail, as in their first principles, the miseries and calamities of our children. CHAPTER XVIII. ON GIPSIES IN GENE- RAL. Semperque recentet Convectarejuvat prsedas, tt vivere rapto. VIBO. As I was yesterday riding out in the fields with my friend Sir Roger, we saw at a little distance from us a troop of gipsies. Upon the first discovery of them, my friend was in some doubt whether he should not exert the justice of the peace upon such a band of lawless vagrants; but not having his clerk with him, who is a necessary counsellor on these occasions, and fearing that his poultry might fare the worse for it, he let the thought drop : but at the same time gave me a particular account of the mischiefs they do in the country, in stealing people's goods and spoiling their servants. If a stray piece of linen hangs upon an hedge, says Sir Roger, they are sure to have it ; if the hog loses his way in the fields, it is ten to one but he becomes their prey ; our geese cannot live in peace for them ; if a man prosecutes them with severity, his henroost is sure to pay for it : they gene- rally straggle into these parts about this time of the year; and set the heads of our servant-maids so agog for husbands, that we do not expect to have any busi- ness done as it should be whilst they are in the country. I have an honest dairy- maid who crosses their hands with a piece of silver every summer, and never fails being promised the handsomest young fellow in the parish for her pains. Your friend the butler has been fool enough to be seduced by them; and, though he is sure to lose a knife, a fork, or a spoon every time his fortune is told him, gene- rally shuts himself up in the pantry with an old gipsy for above half an hour once in a twelvemonth. Sweet-hearts are the things they live upon, which they bestow very plentifully upon all those that apply themselves to them. You see now and then some handsome young jades among them : the sluts have very often white teeth and black eyes. Sir Roger observing that I listened with great attention to his account of a SIR ROGER DE COVERLET. 169 people who were so entirely new to me, told me, that if I would they should tell us our fortunes. As I was very well pleased with the Knight's proposal, we rid up and communicated our hands to them. A Cassandra of the crew, after having examined my lines very diligently, told me, that I loved a pretty maid in a corner, that I was a woman's man, with some other particulars which I do not think proper to relate. My friend Sir Roger alighted from his horse, and exposing his palm to two or three that stood by him, they crumpled it into all shapes, and dili- gently scanned every wrinkle that could be made in it ; when one of them, who was older and more sunburnt than the rest, told him, that he had a widow in his line of life : upon which the Knight cried, Go, go, you are an idle baggage ; and at the same time smiled upon me. The gipsy finding he was not displeased in his heart, told him, after a farther in- quiry into his hand, that his true-love was constant, and that she should dream of him to-night : my old friend cried Pish, and bid her go on. The gipsy told him that he was a bachelor, but would not be so long ; and that he was dearer to somebody than he thought : The Knight still repeated she was an idle baggage, and bid her go on. Ah, Master, says the gipsy, that roguish leer of yours makes a pretty woman's heart ache ; you ha'n't that simper about the mouth for no- thing. The uncouth gibberish with which all this was uttered like the darkness of an oracle, made us the more attentive to it. To be short, the Knight left the money with her that he had crossed her hand with, and got up again on his horse. As we were riding away, Sir Roger told me, that he knew several sensible people who believed these gipsies now and then foretold very strange things ; and for half an hour together appeared more jocund than ordinary. In the height of his good humor, meeting a common beggar upon the road who was no conjurer, as he went to relieve him he found his pocket was picked : that being a kind of palmistry at which this race of vermin are very dex- terous. CHAPTER XIX. A SUMMONS TO LONDON. Ipsse rurtum concedite sylvsc. ViBO. IT is usual for a man who loves country sports to preserve the game in his own grounds, and divert himself upon those that belong to his neighbor. My friend Sir Roger generally goes two or three miles from his house, and gets into the frontiers of his estate, before he beats about in search of a hare or partridge, on purpose to spare his own fields, where he is always sure of finding diversion when the worst comes to the worst. By this means the breed about his house has time to increase and multiply, besides that the sport is the more agreeable where the game is the harder to come at, and where it does not lie so thick as to produce any perplexity or confusion in the pursuit. For these reasons the country gentleman like the fox, seldom preys near his OWL. home. In the same manner I have made f, month's excursion out of the town, whicn is the great field of game for sportsmen of my species, to try my fortune in the coun- try, where I have started several subjects, and hunted them down, with some pleas- ure to myself, and I hope to others. I am here forced to use a great deal of dili- gence before I can spring anything to my mind, whereas in town, whilst I am fol- lowing one character, it is ten to one but I am crossed in my way by another, and put up such a variety of odd creatures in both sexes, that they foil the scent of one another, and puzzle the chase. My great- est difficulty in the country is to find sport, and in town to choose it. In the mean time, as I have given a whole month's rest to the cities of London and Westminster, I promise myself abundance of new game upom my return thither. It is indeed high time for me to leave the country, since I find the whole neigh- borhood begin to grow very inquisitive after my name and character : my love of solitude, taciturnity, and particular way of life, having raised a great curiosity in all these parts. The notions which have been framed of me are various ; some look upon me aa very proud, some as very modest, and some as very melancholy. Will Wimble, as my friend the butler tells me, observ- ing me very much alone, and extremely 166 SIR EOGER DE COVERLEY. silent when I am in company, is afraid I have killed a man. The country people seem to suspect me for a conjurer; and uome of them hearing of the visit which I made to Moll White, will needs have it that Sir Roger has brought down a cun- ning man with him, to cure the old woman, and free the country from her charms. So that the character which I go under in part of the neighborhood, is what they here call a white witch. A justice of peace, who lives about five miles off, and is not of Sir Roger's party, has it seems said twice or thrice at his table, that he wishes Sir Roger does not harbor a Jesuit in his house, and that he thinks the gentlemen of the country would do very well to make me give some account of myself. On the other side, some of Sir Roger's friends are afraid the old Knight is im- posed upon by a designing fellow, and as they have heard that he converses very promiscuously, when he is in town, do not know but that he has brought down with him some discarded whig, that is sullen and says nothing because he is out of place. Such is the variety of opinions which are here entertained of me, so that I pass among some for a disaffected person, and among others for a popish priest, among some for a wizard, and among others for a murderer ; and all this for no other rea- son, that I can imagine, but because I do not hoot and hollow and make a noise. It is true my friend Sir Roger tells them, That it is my way, and that I am only a philosopher; but this will not satisfy them. They think there is more in me than he discovers, and that I do not hold my tongue for nothing. For these and other reasons I shall set out for London to-morrow, having found by experience that the country is not a place for a person of my temper, who does not love jollity, and what they call good neighborhood. A man that is out of humor when an unexpected guest breaks in upon him, and does not care for sacrificing an afternoon to every chance- eomer ; that will be the master of his own time, and the pursuer of his own inclina- tions, makes but a very unsociable figure in this kind of life. I shall therefore re- tire into the town, if I may make use of that phrase, and get into the crowd again as fast as I can in order to be alone. I can there raise what speculations I please upon others without being observed my- self, and at the same time enjoy all the advantages of company with all the privi- leges of solitude. In the meanwhile, to finish the month and conclude these my rural speculations, I shall here insert a let- ter from my friend Will Honeycomb, who has not lived a month for these forty years out of the smoke of London, and rallies me after his way upon my country life. " Dear Spec, I suppose this letter will find thee picking of daisies, or smelling to a lock of hay, or passing away thy time in some innocent country diversion of the like nature. I have, however, orders from the club to summon thee up to town, being all of us cursedly afraid thou wilt not be able to relish our company, after thy conversations with Moll White and Will Wimble. Pr'ythee don't send us any more stories of a cock and a bull, nor frighten the town with spirits and witches. Thy speculations begin to smell confoundedly of woods and meadows. If thou dost not come up quickly, we shall conclude that thou art in love with one of Sir Roger's dairy-maids. Service to the Knight. Sir Andrew is grown the cock of the club since he left us, and if he don't return quickly will make every mother's son of us commonwealth's men. Dear Spec, Thine eternally, WILL HONEYCOMB." CHAPTER XX. FAREWELL TO COVER- LEY HALL. 1 Qui, aut Temput quid postulet non videt, out plura loqui- tur, aut st oslenlat, aut eorum quibutcum etl raiionem non hubet, it ineptut ette diciiur. TULL. HAVING notified to my good friend Sir Roger that I should set out for London the next day, his horses were ready at the appointed hour in the evening ; and attended by one of his grooms, I arrived at the county town at twilight, in order to be ready for the stage-coach the day following. As soon as we arrived at the inn, the servant who waited upon me inquired of the chamberlain in my hear- By Steele. Sift ROGER DE COVERLEY. 167 ing what company he had for the coach? The fellow answered, Mrs. Betty Arable the great fortune, and the widow her mother ; a recruiting officer (who took a place because they were to go) ; young squire Quickset, her cousin, (that her mother wished her to be married to) ; Ephraim the Quaker, her guardian ; and a gentleman that had studied himself dumb from Sir Eoger de Coverley's. I observed by what he said of myself, that according to his office he dealt much in intelligence ; and doubted not but there was some foundation for his reports for the rest of the company, as well as for the whimsical account he gave of me. The next morning at day-break we were all called ; and I, who know my own natural shyness, and endeavor to be as little liable to be disputed with as pos- sible, dressed immediately, that I might make no one wait. The first preparation for our setting out was, that the Captain's half-pike was placed near the coachman, and a drum behind the coach. In the mean time the drummer, the Captain's equipage, was very loud, that none of the Captain's things should be placed so as to be spoiled; upon which his cloak-bag was fixed in the seat of the coach : and the Captain himself, according to a fre- quent, though invidious behavior of military men, ordered his men to look sharp, that none but one of the ladies should have the place he had taken fronting to the coach-box. We were in some little time fixed in our seats, and sat with that dislike which people not too good-natured usually con- ceive of each other at first sight. The coach jumbled us insensibly into some sort of familiarity : and we had not moved above two miles, when the widow asked the captain what success he had in his recruiting? The officer, with a frankness that he believed very graceful, told her, " that indeed he had but very little luck, and had suffered much by desertion, therefore should be glad to end his warfare in the service of her or her fair daughter. In a word," continued he, " I am a soldier, and to be plain is my character: you see me, madam, young, sound, and impudent ; take me yourself, widow, or give me to her, I will be wholly at your disposal, I am a soldier of fortune, ha ! " This was followed by a vain laugh of his own, and a deep silence of all the rest of the company. I had nothing left for it but to fall fast asleep, which I did with all speed. " Come," said he, " resolve upon it, we will make a wedding at the next town : we will wake this pleasant companion, who is fallen asleep, to be the brideman, and " (giving the Quaker a clap on the knee) he con- cluded, " this sly saint, who, I'll warrant, understands what's what as well as you or I, widow, shall give the bride as father." The Quaker, who happened to be a man of smartness, answered, " my friend, I take it in good part, that thou hast given me the authority of a father over this comely and virtuous child ; and I must assure thee, that if I have the giving her, I shall not bestow her on thee. Thy mirth, friend, savoreth of folly : Thou art a person of a light mind : thy drum is a type of thee, it soundeth because it is empty. Verily it is not from thy fulness, but thy emptiness that thou hast spoken this day, Friend, friend, we have hired this coach in partnership with thee, to carry us to the great city ; we cannot go any other way. This worthy mother must hear thee if thou wilt needs utter thy follies ; we cannot help it, Friend, I say : if thou wilt, we must hear thee : But if thou wert a man of understanding, thou wouldst not take advantage of thy courageous countenance to abash us chil- dren of peace. Thou art, thou sayest, a soldier ; give quarter to us, we cannot re- sist thee. Why didst thou fleer at our friend, who feigned himself asleep ? He said nothing ; Tjut how dost thou know what he containeth? If thou speakest improper things in the hearing of this virtuous young virgin, consider it as an outrage against a distressed person that cannot get from thee : To speak indis- creetly what we are obliged to hear, by being hasped up with thee in this public vehicle, is in some degree assaulting on the high road." Here Ephraim paused, and the captain with an happy and uncommon impudence (which can be convicted and support it- self at the same time) cries, Faith, Friend, I thank thee ; I should have been a little impertinent if thou hadst not rep- rimanded me. Come, thou art, I see, 8 smoky old fellow, and I'll be very or- derly the ensuing part of my journey. I was going to give myself airs, but, ladies, I beg pardon. 108 SIR ROGER DE COVrfRLEY. The captain was so little out of humor, and our company was so far from being soured by this little ruffle, that Ephraim and he took a particular delight in being agreeable to each other for the future ; and assumed their different provinces in the conduct of the company. Our reckon- ings, apartments, and accommodation, fell under Ephraim: and the captain looked to all disputes on the road, as the good behavior of our coachman, and the right we had of taking place as going to London of all vehicles coming from thence. The occurrences we met with were or- dinary, and very little happened which could entertain by the relation of them : But when I considered the company we were in, I took it for no small good-for- tune that the whole journey was not spent in impertinences, which to the one part of us might be an entertainment, to the other a suffering. What therefore Ephraim said when we were almost arrived at London, had to me an air not only of good understanding but good breeding. Upon the young lady expressing her satisfaction in the journey, and declaring how delightful it had been to her, Ephraim delivered him- self as follows : " There is no ordinary part of human life which expresseth so much a good mind, and a right inward man, as his behavior upon meeting with strang- ers, especially such as may seem the most unsuitable companions to him: such a man, when he falleth in the way with persons of simplicity and innocence, how- ever knowing he may be in the ways of men, will not vaunt himself thereof ; but will the rather hide his superiority to them, that he may not be painful unto them. My good friend (continued he, turning to the officer), thee and I are to part by and by, and peradventure we may never meet again : but be advised by a plain man ; modes and apparel are but trifles to the real man, therefore do not think such a man as thyself terrible for thy garb, nor such a one as me contempt- ible for mine. When two such as thee and I meet, with affections as we ought to have towards each other, thou shouldst rejoice to see my peaceable demeanor, and I should be glad to see thy strength and ability to protect me in it." CHAPTER XXI. SIE ROGER IN LONDO1C. JEvo rariisima nottro Simplicity. OVID. I "WAS this morning surprised with a great knocking at the door, when my landlady's daughter came up to me, and told me, that there was a man below de- sired to speak with me. Upon my asking her who it was, she told me it was a very grave elderly person, but that she did not know his name. I immediately went down to him, and found him to be the coachman of my worthy friend Sir Roger de Coverley. He told me that his master came to town last night, and would be glad to take a turn with me in Gray's-Inn Walks. As I was wondering in myself what had brought Sir Roger to town, not having lately received any letter from him, he told me that his master was come up to get a sight of Prince Eugene, and that he desired I would immediately meet him. I was not a little pleased with the curi- osity of the old Knight, though I did not much wonder at it, having heard him say more than once in private discourse, that he looked upon Prince Eugenic (for so the Knight always called him) to be a greater man than Scanderbeg. I was no sooner come into Gray's-Inn Walks, but I heard my friend upon the terrace hemming twice or thrice to him- self with great vigor, for he loves to clear his pipes in good air (to make use of his own phrase), and is not a little pleased with any one who takes notice of the strength which he still exerts in his morning hemms. I was touched with a secret joy at the sight of the good old man, who before he saw me was engaged in conversation with a beggar-man that had asked an alms of him. I could hear my friend chide him for not finding out some work ; but at the same time saw him put his hand in his pocket and give him six-pence. Our salutations were very hearty on both sides, consisting of many kind shakes of the hand, and several affectionate looks which we cast upon one another. After which the Knight told me my good friend his chaplain was very well, and much at my service, and that the Sunday before he bad made a most incomparable sermon out of Doctor Barrow. I have left, say SIR ROGER DE COVERLEY. 169 he, all my affairs in his hands, and being willing to lay an obligation upon him, have deposited with him thirty marks, to be distributed among his poor parish- ioners. He then proceeded to acquaint me with the welfare of Will Wimble. Upon which he put his hand into his fob and pre- sented me in his name with a tobacco- stopper, telling me that Will had been busy all the beginning of the winter, in turning great quantities of them ; and that he made a present of one to every gentle- man in the country who has good prin- ciples, and smokes. He added, that poor Will was at present under great tribula- tion, for that Tom Touchy had taken the law of him for cutting some hazel sticks out of one of his hedges. Among other pieces of news which the Knight brought from his country seat, he informed me that Moll White was dead ; and that about a month after her death the wind was so very high, that it blew down the end of one of his barns. But for my own part, says Sir Roger, I do not think that the old woman had any hand in it. He afterwards fell into an account of the diversions which had passed in his house during the holidays ; for Sir Eoger, after the laudable custom of his ancestors, always keeps open house at Christmas. I learned from him, that he had killed eight fat hogs for this season, that he had dealt about his chines very liberally amongst his neighbors, and that in parti- cular he had sent a string of hogs-pud- dings with a pack of cards to every poor family in the parish. I have often thought, says Sir Roger, it happens very well that Christmas should fall out in the middle of winter. It is the most dead uncom- fortable time of the year, when the poor people would suffer very much from their poverty and cold, if they had not good cheer, warm fires, and Christinas gambols to support them. I love to rejoice their poor hearts at this season, and to see the whole village merry in my great hall. I allow a double quantity of malt to my beer, and set it a running for twelve days to every one that calls for it. I have al- ways a piece of cold beef and a mince-pie upon the table, and am wonderfully pleased to see my tenants pass away a whole evening in playing their innocent j tricks, and smutting one another. Our friend Will Wimble is as merry as any of them, and shows a thousand roguish tricks upon these occasions. I was very much delighted with the re- flection of my old friend, which carried so much goodness in it. He then launch- ed out into the praise of the last Act of Parliament for securing the Church of England, and told me, with great satis- faction, that he believed it already began to take effect, for that a rigid dissenter, who chanced to dine at his house on Christmas day, had been observed to eat very plentifully of his plum-porridge. After having dispatched all our country matters, Sir Roger made several inquiries concerning the club, and particularly of his old antagonist Sir Andrew Freeport. He asked me, with a kind of a smile, whether Sir Andrew had not taken the advantage of his absence, to vent among them some of his republican doctrines ; but soon after gathering up his counte- nance into a more than ordinary serious- ness, Tell me truly, says he, don't you think Sir Andrew had" a hand in the Pope's Procession, 1 but, without giv- ing me time to answer him, Well, well, says he, I know you are a wary man, and do not care to talk of public matters. The Knight then asked me if I had seen Prince Eugenio, and made me promise to get him a stand in some convenient place 1 The Pope's Procession. Each anniversary of Queen Elizabeth's accession (Nov. 17) was for many years celebrated by the citizens of London in a manner ex- pressive of their detestation of the Church of Borne. A procession at times sufficiently attractive for royal spectators paraded the principal streets, the chief figure being an effigy of the Pope, well executed in wax and expensively adorned with robes and a tiara. He was accompanied by a train of cardinals and Jesuits ; and at his ear stood a buffoon in the likeness of a hom- ed devil. After having been paraded through divers streets, His Holiness was exultingly burnt opposite to the Whig Club near the Temple Gate in Fleet Street. After the discovery of the Kye House plot, the Pope'g Procession was discontinued ; but was resuscitated o the acquittal of the seven bishops and dethronement of James II. Sacheverel's trial had added a new Interest to the ceremony ; and on the occasion referred to by Sir Boger, besides a popular dread of the Church being from the listlessness of the ministers and the machi- nations of the Pretender in danger, there was a very general opposition to the peace with France, for which the Tories were intriguing. The party cry of " N peace" was shouted in the same breath with "H Popery." 170 SIR ROGER DE COVERLEY. where he might have a full sight of that extraordinary man, whose presence does so much honor to the British nation. He dwelt very long on the praises of this great general, and I found that, since I was with him in the country, he had drawn many observations together out of his reading in Baker's Chronicle, and other authors, who always lie in his hall window, which very much redound to the honor of this prince. Having passed away the greatest part of the morning in hearing the Knight's reflections, which were partly private, and partly political, he asked me if I would smoke a pipe with him over a dish of coffee at Squire's. As I love the old man, I take delight in complying with every thing that is agreeable to him, and ac- cordingly waited on him to the coffee- house, where his venerable figure drew upon us the eyes of the whole room. He had no sooner seated himself at the upper end of the high table, but he called for a clean pipe, a paper of tobacco, a dish of coffee, a wax candle, and the Supplement, with such an air of cheerfulness and good humor, that all the boys in the coffee- room (who seemed to take pleasure in serving him) were at once employed on his several errands, insomuch that no body else could come at a dish of tea, till the Knight had got all his conveniences about him. CHAPTER XXII. SIR ROGER IN WEST- MINSTER ABBEY. Ire tamen restat, Numa quo deventt, et Anctu. HOR. MY friend, Sir Roger de Coverley, told me t'other night that he had been read- ing my paper upon Westminster Abbey, in which, says he, there are a great many ingenious fancies. He told me at the same time he observed I had promised another paper upon the tombs, and he should be glad to go and see them with me, not having visited them since he had read history. I could not at first imagine how this came into the Knight's head, till I recollected that he had been very busy all last summer upon Baker's Chronicle, which he has quoted several times in his disputes with Sir Andrew Free- port since his last coming to town. Ac- cordingly I promised to call upon him the next morning, that we might go to- gether to the Abbey. I found the Knight under his butler's hands, who always shaves him. He was no sooner dressed, than he called for a glass of the Widow Trueby's water, 1 which he told me he always drank before he went abroad. He recommended to me a dram of it at the same time, with so much heartiness, that I could not for- bear drinking it. As soon as I had got it down, I found it very unpalatable ; upon which the Knight, observing that I had made several wry faces, told me that he knew I should not like it at first, but that it was the best thing in the world against the stone or gravel. I could have wished indeed that he had acquainted me with the virtues of it sooner; but it was too late to complain, and I knew what he had done was out of good-will. Sir Eoger told me further, that he looked upon it to be very good foK a man whilst he staid in town to keep off infection, and that he got together a quantity of it upon the first news of the sickness being at Dantzic. 2 When of a sudden turning short to one of his ser- vants,, who stood behind, he bid him call a hackney-coach, and take care it was an elderly man that drove it. He then resumed his discourse upon Mrs. Trueby's water, telling me that the Widow Trueby was one who did more good than all the doctors and apotheca- ries in the country : That she distilled every poppy that grew within five miles of her; that she distributed her water gratis among all sorts of people ; to which the Knight added, that she had a very great jointure, and that the whole coun- try would fain have it a match between him and her ; and truly, says Sir Roger, if I had not been engaged, perhaps I could not have done better. 1 One of the innumerable " strong waters " drunk, it is said (perhaps libellously) chiefly by the fair sex aa an exhilarant; the excuses being the colic and " the vapors." Addison, who pretends in the text to find it unpalatable, is accused of having been a con- stant imbiber of the widow's distillations. Indeed, Tyers goes so far as to say on the authority of " Taci- tus" Gordon, that Addison hastened his end by his indulgence in them. 2 The plague which raged there in 1709. " Idleness, which has long raged in the world, destroys more in every great town than the plague has done at Dantzic.' Taller, Nov. 22, 1709. SIR ROGER DE COVERLEY. 171 His discourse was broken off by his man's telling him he had called a coach. Upon our going to it, after having cast his eye upon the wheels, he asked the coachman if his axletree was good ; upon the fellow's telling him he would warrant it, the Knight turned to me, told me he looked like an honest man, and went in without further ceremony. We had not gone far, when Sir Roger, popping out his head, called the coach- man down from his box, and, upon his presenting himself at the window, asked him if he smoked ; as I was considering what this would end in, he bid him stop by the way at any good tobacconist's, and take in a roll of their best Virginia. Nothing material happened in the remain- ing part of our journey till we were set down at the west end of the Abbey. As we went up the body of the church, the Knight pointed at the trophies upon one of the new monuments, and cried out, A brave man I warrant him ! Parsing afterwards by Sir Cloudsly Shovel, he flung his hand that way and cried, Sir Cloudsly Shovel ! a very gallant man I As we stood before Busby's tomb, the Knight uttered himself again after the same man- ner: Dr. Busby, a great man, he whipped my grandfather ; a very great man ! I should have gone to him myself, if I had not been a blockhead ; a very great man ! We were immediately conducted into the little chapel on the right hand. Sir Roger, planting himself at our historian's elbow, was very attentive to everything he said, particularly of the account he gave us of the lord who had cut off the king of Morocco's head. Among several other figures, he was very well pleased to see the statesman Cecil upon his knees ; and concluding them all to be great men, was conducted to the figure which repre- sents that martyr to good housewifery, who died by the prick of a needle. 1 Upon our 1 This Is one of the " hundred lies " which the at> tendant is said to have told Goldsmith's Citizen of the World " without blushing." The monument in St. Edmund's chapel, is that of Elizabeth, youngest daughter of Lord John Russel (temp. 1584). " The figure is melancholily inclining her cheek to her right hand, and with the fore-finger of her left direct- ing us to behold the Death's Head placed at her feet." (Kevpe Monat. Westm.) This alone is said to hare originated an unwarrantable verdict of " died from the prick of a needle." interpreter's telling us, that she was a maid of honor to Queen Elizabeth, the Knight was very inquisitive into her name and family ; and after having regarded her finger for some time, I wonder, says he, that Sir Richard Baker has said noth- ing of her in his Chronicle. We were then conveyed to the two coronation chairs, where my old friend, after having heard that the stone under- neath the most ancient of them, which was brought from Scotland, was called Jacob's Pillar, sat himself down in the chair ; and looking like the figure of an old Gothic king, asked our interpreter, ivhat authority they had to say, that Ja- cob had ever been in Scotland? The fellow, instead of returning him an an- swer, told him, that he hoped his honor would pay his forfeit. I could observe Sir Roger a little ruffled upon being thus trepanned; but our guide not insisting upon his demand, the Knight soon recov- ered his good humor and whispered in my ear, that if Will Wimble were with us, and saw those two chairs, it would go hard but he would get a tobacco-stopper out of one or t'other of them. Sir Roger, in the next place, laid his hand upon Edward the Third's sword, and leaning upon the pommel of it, gave us the whole history of the Black Prince ; concluding, that, in Sir Richard Baker's opinion, Edward the Third was one of the greatest princes that ever sat upon the English throne. We were then shown Edward the Con- fessor's tomb ; upon which Sir Roger ac- quainted us, that he was the first who touched for the evil; and afterwards Henry the Fourth's, upon which he shook his head, and told us there was fine read- ing in the casualties of that reign. Our conductor then pointed to that monument where there is the figure of one of our English kings without a head ; and upon giving us to know, that the head, which was of beaten silver, had been stolen away several years since: 1 Some Whig, I'll warrant you, says Sir Roger ; you ought to lock up your kings better ; they will carry oflf the body too, if you don't take care. 1 The effigy of Henry V. which was plated with silver except the head, and that was of solid metal. At the dissolution of the monasteries the figure was stripped of its plating, and the bead stolen. 172 SIR ROGER DE COVERLEY. The glorious names of Henry the Fifth and Queen Elizabeth gave the Knight great opportunities of shining and of do- ing justice to Sir Richard Baker, who, as our Knight observed with some surprise, had a great many kings in him, whose monuments he had not seen in the Abbey. For my own part, I could not but be pleased to see the Knight show such an honest passion for the glory of his country, and such a respectful gratitude to the memory of its princes. I must not omit, that the benevolence of my good oldj friend, which flows out towards every one he converses with, made him very kind to our interpreter, whom he looked upon as an extraordinary man ; for which reason he shook him by the hand at parting, telling him, that he should be very glad to see him at his lodgings in Norfolk Buildings, and talk over these matters with him more at leisure. CHAPTER XXIII. SIB ROGER AT THB PLAYHOUSE. Retpicere exemplar irite morumquejubebo Doctum imitalorem, et verca hinc duce>-e voces. HOB. MY friend Sir Roger de Coverley, when we last met together at the club, told me that he had a great mind to see the new tragedy with me, assuring me at the same time, that he had not been at a play these twenty years. The last I saw, said Sir Roger, was the Committee, which I should not have gone to neither, had not I been tol d before-hand that it was a good Church- of-England comedy. He then proceeded to inquire of me who this distressed mother was ; and upon hearing that she was Hector's widow, he told me that her husband was a brave man, and that when he was a school-boy, he had read his life at the end of the dictionary. My friend asked me in the next place, if there would not be some danger in coming home late. in case the Mohocks should be abroad/ 1 Mofiorks. It had been for many years the favorite amusement of dissolute young men to form themselves into clubs and associations for the cowardly pleasure of fighting and sometimes maiming harmless pedestrians, and even defenceless women. They took various slang designations. At the Restoration they were Muns and Tityre-Tus ; then Ilectors and Scourers ; later still, I assure you, says he, I thought I had fallen into their hands last night ; for I observed two or three lusty black men that followed me half way up Fleet-street, and mended their pace behind me, in proportion as I put on to get away from them. You must know, continued the Knight with a smile, I fancied they had a mind to hunt me ; for I remember an honest gentleman in my neighborhood, who was served such a trick in King Charles the Second's time ; for which rea- son he has not ventured himself in town ever since. I might have shown them very good sport, had this been their design ; for as I am an old fox-hunter, I should have turned and dodged, and have played them a thousand tricks they had never seen in their lives before. Sir Roger added, that if these gentlemen had any such intention, they did not succeed very well in it : for I threw them out, says he, at the end of Norfolk-street, where I doubled the cor- ner and got shelter in my lodgings before they could imagine what was become of me. However, says the Knight, if Captain Sentry will make one with us, to-morrow Nickers (whose expensive delight it was to smash win- dows with showers of halfpence), Hawkabites, and lastly Mohocks. These last took their title from " a sort of cannibals in India who subsist by plundering and devouring all the nations about them. (Spectator, No. 324.) Nor was the designation inapt ; for if there waa one sort of brutality on which they prided themselves more than another, it was in tattooing, or slashing peo- ple's faces with, as Gay wrote, " new-invented wounds." Their other exploits were quite as savage as those of their predecessors, although they aimed at dashing their mischief with wit and originality. They began the evening at their clubs, by drinking to excess in order to inflame what little courage they possessed. They then sallied forth sword in hand. Some enacted the part of " dancing masters " by thrusting their rapiers between the legs of sober citizens in such a fashion as to make them cut the most grotesque capers. The Hunt spoken of by Sir Roger was commenced by a " view hallo ! " and as soon as the savage pack had run down their victim, they surrounded him, to form a circle with the points of their swords. One gave him a puncture in the rear which naturally made him wheel about, then came a prick from another, and so they kept him spinning like a top till in their mercy they chose to let him go free. Another savage diversion was thrusting women into barrels and rolling them down Snow or Ludgate hill. At the date of the present Spectator the outrages of the Mohocks were so intolerable that they became the sub- ject of a Royal Proclamation issued on the 18th March, just a week before Sir Roger's visit to Dniry Lane. SIR ROGER DE COVERLET. 173 night, and if you will both of you call upon me about four o'clock, that we may be at the house before it is full, I will have my own coach in readiness to attend you, for John tells me he has got the fore- wheels mended. The captain, who did not fail to meet me there at the appointed hour, bid Sir Roger fear nothing, for that he had put on the same sword which he made use of at the battle of Steenkirk. Sir Eoger's servant's, and among the rest my old friend the butler, had, I found, provided themselves with good oaken plants, to at- tend their master on this occasion. When we had placed him in his coach, with myself at his left hand, the captain before him, and his butler at the head of his footmen in the rear, we convoyed him in safety to the playhouse, where after having marched up the entry in good or- der, the captain and I went in with him, and seated him betwixt us in the pit. As soon as the house was full, and the can- dles lighted, my old friend stood up and looked about him with that pleasure, which a mind seasoned with humanity naturally feels in itself, at the sight of a multitude of people who seem pleased with one another, and partake of the same common entertainment. I could not but fancy to myself, as the old man stood up in the middle of the pit, that he made a very proper centre to a tragic audience. Upon the entering of Pyrr- hus, the Knight told me that he did not believe the king of France himself had a better strut. I was indeed very attentive to my old friend's remarks, because I looked upon them as a piece of natural criticism, and was well pleased to hear him, at the conclusion of almost every scene, telling me that he could not imag- ine how the play would end. One while he appeared much concerned for Andro- mache ; and a little while after as much for Hermione ; and was extremely puz- zled to think what would become of Pyrr- hus. When Sir Roger saw Andromache's obstinate refusal to her lover's importu- nities, he whispered me in the ear that he was sure she would never have him ; to which he added, with a more than ordinary vehemence, you can't imagine, sir, what 't is to have to do with a widow. Upon Pyrrhus his threatening afterwards to leave her, the Knight shook his head and muttered to himself, Ay, do if you can. This part dwelt so much upon my friend's imagination, that at the close of the third act, as I was thinking of some- thing else, he whispered me in my ear. These widows, sir, are the most perverse creatures in the world. But pray, says he, you that are a critic, is the play ac- cording to your dramatic rules, as" you call them ? Should your people in tra- gedy always talk to be understood? Why there is not a single sentence in this play that I do not know the meaning of. The fourth act very luckily begun be- fore I had time to give the old gentleman an answer. Well, says the Knight, sitting down with great satisfaction, I suppose we are now to see Hector's ghost. He then renewed his attention, and from time to time, fell a praising the widow. He made, indeed, a little mistake as to one of her pages, whom at his first enter- ing he took for Astyanax ; but quickly set himself right in that particular, though, at the same time, he owned he should have been very glad to have seen the little boy, who, says he, must needs be a very fine child by the account that is given of him. Upon Hermione's going off with a menace to Pyrrhus, the audi- ence gave a loud clap, to which Sir Roger added, on my word, a notable young bag- gage! As there was a very remarkable silence and stillness in the audience during the whole action, it was natural for them to take the opportunity of the intervals between the acts, to express their opinion of the plays, and of their respective parts. Sir Roger hearing a cluster of them praise Orestes, struck in with them, and told them, that he thought his friend Pylades was a very sensible man ; as they were afterwards applauding Pyrrhus, Sir Roger put in a second time: And let me tell you, says he, though he speaks but little, I like the old fellow in whiskers as well as any of them. Captain Sentry seeing two or three wags, who sat near us, lean with an attentive ear towards Sir Roger, and fearing lest they should smoke the Knight, plucked him by the elbow, and whispered something in his ear, that lasted till the opening of the fifth act. The Knight was wonderfully attentive to the account which Orestes gives of Pyrr- hus his death, and at the conclusion of it told me it was such a bloody piece of 174 SIR ROGER DE COVERLET. work, that he was glad it was not done upon the stage. Seeing afterwards Orestes in his raving fit, he grew more than ordi- nary serious, and took occasion to moralize (in his way) upon an evil con- science, adding, that " Orestes, in his mad- ness, looked as if he saw something." As we were the first that came into the house, so we were the last that went out of it; being resolved to have a clear pas- sage for our old friend, whom we did not care to venture among the justling of the crowd. Sir Roger went out fully satisfied with his entertainment, and we guarded him to his lodging in the same manner that we had brought him to the play- house ; being highly pleased for my own part, not only with the performance of the excellent piece which bad been pre- sented, but with the satisfaction which it had given to the old man. CHAPTER XXIV. SIR ROGER AT VATTX- HALL. Criminibua debent hortoi Juv. As I was sitting in my chamber and thinking on a subject for my next Spec- tator, I heard two or three irregular bounces at my landlady's door, and upon the opening of it, a loud cheerful voice inquiring whether the philosopher was at home. The child who went to the door answered very innocently, that he did not lodge there. I immediately recollected that it was my good friend Sir Roger's voice ; and that I had promised to go with him on the water to Spring Garden, in case it proved a good evening. The Knight put me in mind of my promise from the bottom of the stair-case, but told me that if I was speculating he would stay below till I had done. Upon my coming down, I found all the chil- dren of the family got about my old friend, and my landlady herself, who is a notable prating gossip, engaged in a con- ference with him ; being mightily pleased with his stroking her little boy upon the head, and bidding him be a good child, and mind his book. We were no sooner come to the Temple- stairs, but we were surrounded by a crowd of watermen, offering us their respective ervices. Sir Roger, after having looked about him very attentively, spied one with a wooden leg, and immediately gave him orders to get his boat ready. As we were walking towards it, " You must know," says Sir Roger, " I never make use of anybody to row me, that has not either lost a leg or an arm. I would rather bate him a few strokes of his oar, than not employ an honest man that has been wounded in the Queen's service. If I was a lord or a bishop, and kept a barge, I would not put a fellow in my livery that had not a wooden leg." My old friend, after having seated him- self, and trimmed the boat with his coachman, who, being a very sober man, always serves for ballast on these occa- sions, we made the best of our way for Vaux-Hall. Sir Roger obliged the wa- terman to give us the history of his right leg, and hearing that he had left it at La Hogue, with many particulars which passed in that glorious action, the Knight in the triumph of his heart made several reflections on the greatness of the British nation ; as, that one Englishman could beat three Frenchmen ; that we could never be in danger of Popery so long as we took care of our fleet; that the Thames was the noblest river in Europe ; that London bridge was a greater piece of work than any of the seven wonders of the world ; with many other honest prejudices which naturally cleave to the heart of a true Englishman. After some short pause, the old Knight turning about his head twice or thrice, to take a survey of this great metropolis, bid me observe how thick the city was set with churches, and that there was scarce a single steeple on this side Tem- ple-Bar. " A most heathenish sight ! " says Sir Roger : "There is no religion at this end of the town. The fifty new churches will very much mend the pros- pect ; but Church work is slow, church work is slow I " I do not remember I have any where mentioned, in Sir Roger's character, his custom of saluting everybody that passes by him with a good-morrow, or a good- night. This the old man does out of the overflowings of his humanity, though at the same time it renders him so popular among all his country neigh- bors, that it is thought to have gone a food way in making him once or twice night of the shire. He cannot forbear SIR ROGER DE COVERLEY. 175 this exercise of benevolence even in town, when he meets with any one in his morning or evening walk. It broke from him to several boats that passed by us upon the water ; but to the Knight's great surprise, as he gave the good-night to two or three young fellows a little before our landing, one of them, instead of returning the civility, asked us what queer old put we had in the boat, with a great deal of the like Thames ribaldry. Sir Roger seemed a little shocked at first, but at length, assuming a face of magis- tracy, told us, that " if he were a Middle- sex justice, he would make such vagrants know that her Majesty's subjects were no more to be abused by water than by land." We were now arrived at Spring-Garden, which is exquisitely pleasant at this time of the year. When I considered the fra- grancy of the walks and bowers, with the choirs of birds that sung upon the trees, and the loose tribe of people that walked under their shades, I could not but look upon the place as a kind of Mahometan Paradise. Sir Roger told me it put him in mind of a little coppice by his house in the country, which his chaplain used to call an aviary of nightingales. " You must understand," says the Knight, "there is nothing in the world that pleases a man in love so much as your nightingale. Ah, Mr. Spectator ! the many moon-light nights that I have walked by myself, and thought on the widow by the music of the nightingale ! " He here fetched a deep sigh, and was falling into a fit of musing, when a mask who came behind him, gave him a gentle tap upon the shoulder, and asked him if he would drink a bottle of mead with her ? But the Knight being startled at so unexpected a familiarity, and displeased to be interrupted in his thoughts of the widow, told her, she was a wanton baggage, and bid her go about her business. We concluded our walk with a glass of Bur ton -ale, and a slice of hung-beef. When we had done eating ourselves, the Knight called a waiter to him, and bid him carry the remainder to the waterman that had but one leg. I perceived the fellow stared upon him at the oddness of the message, and was going to be saucy ; upon which I ratified the Knight's com- mands w ; th a peremptory look. CHAPTER XXV. SIR ROGER, THE WIDOW, WILL HONEYCOMB, AND MILTON. 1 Tori'a lesena lupum sequitur, Input ipie capeUam ; Florentem cytUuni sequitur laiciva captlla. VlEO. As we were at the club last night, I observed my friend Sir Koger, contrary to his usual custom, sat very silent, and instead of minding what was said by the company, was whistling to himself in a very thoughtful mood, and playing with a cork. I jogged Sir Andrew Freeport who sat between us ; and as we were both observing him, we saw the Knight shake his head, and heard him say, to himself, A foolish woman ! I can't believe it. Sir Andrew gave him a gentle pat upon the shoulder, and offered to lay him a bottle of wine that he was thinking of the wid- ow. My old friend started, and recover- ing out of his brown study, told Sir An- drew that once in his life he had been in the right. In short, after some little hes- itation, Sir Roger told us in the fulness of his heart that he had just received a letter from his steward, which acquainted him that his old rival and antagonist in the country, Sir David Dundrum, had been making a visit to the widow. How- ever, says Sir Roger, I can never think that she'll have a man that's half a year older than I am, and a noted republican into the bargain. Will Honeycomb, who looks upon love as his particular province, interrupting our friend with a jaunty laugh ; I thought, Knight, says he, thou hadst lived long enough in the world, not to pin thy hap- piness upon one that is a woman and a widow. I think that without vanity I may pretend to know as much of the fe- male world as any man in Great Britain, though the chief of my knowledge con- sists in this, that they are not to be known. Will immediately, with his usual fluency, rambled into an account of his own amours. I am now, says he, upon the verge of fifty (though by the way we all knew he was turned of threescore). You may easily guess, continued Will, that I have not lived so long in the world without having had some thoughts of settling in it, as the phrase is, To tell you truly, I have several times tried my l By Budgtll. 176 SIR ROGER DE COVERLET. fortune that way, though I can't much boast of my success. I made my first addresses to a young lady in the country ; but when I thought things were pretty well drawing to a con- clusion, her father happening to hear that I had formerly boarded with a surgeon, the old put forbid me his house, and within a fortnight after married his daughter to a fox-hunter in the neigh- borhood. I made my next application to a widow, and attacked her so briskly, that I thought myself within a fortnight of her. As I waited upon her one morning, she told me, that she intended to keep her ready money and jointure in her own hand, and desired me to call upon her attorney in Lions-Inn, who would adjust with me what it was proper for me to add to it. I was so rebuffed by this overture, that I never inquired either for her or her attor- ney afterwards. A few months after I addressed myself to a young lady who was an only daugh- ter, and of a good family : I danced with her at several balls, squeezed her by the hand, said soft things to her, and in short made no doubt of her heart ; and tho' my fortune was not equal to hers, I was in hopes that her fond father would not deny her the man she had fixed her af- fections upon. But as I went one day to the house in order to break the matter to him, I found the whole family in confu- sion, and heard to my unspeakable sur- prise, that Miss Jenny was that very morning run away with the butler. I then courted a second widow, and am at a loss to this day how I came to miss her, for she had often commended my person and behavior. Her maid indeed told me one day, that her mistress had said she never saw a gentleman with such a spindle pair of legs as Mr. Honeycomb. After this I laid siege to four heiresses successively, and being a handsome young dog in those days, quickly made a breach in their hearts ; but I don't know how it came to pass, though I seldom failed of getting the daughter's consent, I could never in my life get the old people on my side. I could give you an account of a thou- sand other unsuccessful attempts, particu- larly of one which I made some years since upon an old woman, whom I had certainly borne away with flying colors, if her relations had not come pouring in to her assistance from all parts of England ; nay, I believe I should have got her at last, had not she been carriedoff by a hard frost. As Will's transitions are extremely quick, he turned from Sir Roger, and applying himself to me, told me there was a passage in the book I had consid- ered last Saturday, which deserved to be writ in letters of gold ; and taking out a pocket-Milton, read the following lines, which are part of one of Adam's speeches to Eve after the fall. Oh ! why did God, Creator wise 1 that peopled highest heaven With spirits masculine, create at last This novelty on earth, this fair defect Of Nature ? and not fill the world at once With men, as angels, without feminine ? Or find some other way to generate Mankind ? This mischief had not then be- fallen, And more that shall befall, innumerable Disturbances on earth through female snares And strait conjunction with this sex : for either He never shall find out fit mate ; but such As some misfortune brings him, or mistake ; Or, whom he wishes most, shall seldom gain Through her perverseness ; but shall see her gained By a far worse : or if she love, withheld By parents ; or his happiest choice too late Shall meet already linked, and wedlock- bound To a fell adversary, his hate or shame ; Which infinite calamity shall cause To human life, and household peace con- found. Sir Roger listened to this passage with great attention, and desiring Mr. Honey- comb to fold down a leaf at the place, and lend him his book, the Knight put it up [in his pocket, and told us that he would read over those verses again before he went to bed. CHAPTER XXVI. SIR ROGER PASSETH AWAY. Benpieta* I heu prixca fides ! Vino. WE last night received a piece of ill news at our club, which very sensibly afflicted evtry one of us. I question not SIR ROGER DE COVERLEY. 17? but my readers themselves will be troubled at the hearing of it. To keep them no longer in suspense, Sir Roger de Coverley is dead. 1 He departed this life at his house in the country, after a few weeks sickness. Sir Andrew Freeport has a letter from one of his correspondents in those parts, that informs him the old man caught a cold at the county-sessions, as he was very warmly promoting an address of his own penning, in which he succeeded according to his wishes. But this particular comes from a Whig justice of peace, who was always Sir Roger's enemy and antagonist. I have letters both from the chaplain and Captain Sen- try which mention nothing of it, but are filled with many particulars to the honor of the good old man. I have likewise a letter from the butler, who took so much care of me last summer when I was at the Knight's house. As my friend the butler mentions, in the simplicity of his heart, several circumstances the others have passed over in silence, I shall give my reader a copy of his letter, without any alteration or diminution. "Honored Sir, Knowing that you was my old master's good friend, I could not forbear sending you the melancholy news of his death, which has afflicted the whole coun- try, as well as his poor servants, who loved him, I may say, better than we did our lives. I am afraid he caught his death the last county-sessions, where he 1 Mr. Addison was o fond of this eVwacter that a little before he laid down the Spectator (foreseeing that Borne nimble gentleman would catch up his pen the moment he quitted it) he said to our intimate friend with a certain warmth in his expression, which he was not often guilty of, " I'll kil' Sir Koger that nobody else may murder him." Th+ Bee, p. 26. On this Chalmers sensibty remarks that, "the killing of Sir Roger has been efficiently accounted for, with- out supposing that Addison despatched him in a fit of anger; for the work "Vsa about to close, and it appeared necessary to close Mie club ; but whatever difference of opinion there may be concerning this circumstance, it is universally agreed that it produced a paper of tran- scendent excellence in all the graces of simplicity and pathos. There is not in our language any assumption o character more faithful than that of the honest but- ler; nor a more irresistible stroke of nature than the circumstance of the book received by Sir Andrew Free- port." VOL. II. W. H. would go to see justice done to a poor widow woman, and her fatherless chil- dren, that had been wronged by a neigh- boring gentleman ; for you know, Sir, my good master was always the poor man's friend. Upon his coming home, the first complaint he made was, that he had lost his roast-beef stomach, not being able to touch a sirloin, which was served up ac- cording to custom ; and you know he used to take great delight in it. From that time forward he grew worse and worse, but still kept a good heart to the last. Indeed we were once in great hope of his recovery, upon a kind message that was sent him from the widow lady whom he had made love to the forty last years of his life ; but this only proved a light- ning before death. He has bequeathed to this lady, as a token of his love a great pearl necklace, and a couple of silve/ bracelets set with jewels, which belonged to my good old lady his mother : he has bequeathed the fine white gelding, that he used to ride a hunting upon, to his chaplain, because he thought he would be kind to him, and has left you all his books. He has, moreover, bequeathed to the chaplain a very pretty tenement with good lands about it. It being a very cold day when he made his will, he left for mourning, to every man in the parish, a great frieze coat, and to every woman, a black riding-hood. It was a most moving sight to see him take leave of his poor servants, commending us all for our fidel- ity, whilst we were not able to speak a word for weeping. As we most of us are grown gray-headed in our dear master's service, he has left us pensions and lega- cies, which we may live very comfortably upon, the remaining part of our days. He has bequeathed a great deal more in charity, which is not yet come to my knowledge, and it is peremptorily said in the parish, that he has left money to build a steeple to the church ; for he was heard to say some time ago, that if he lived two years longer, Coverley church should have a steeple to it. The chaplain tells everybody that he made a very good end, and never speaks of him with- out tears. He was buried according to his own directions, among the family of the Coverleys, on the left hand of his father Sir Arthur. The coffin was carried by six of his tenants, and the pall held up by six of the quorum : the whole par- 12 178 SIR ROGER DE COVERLET. ish followed the corpse with heavy hearts, and in their mourning suits, the men in frieze, and the women in riding hoods. Captain Sentry, my master's nephew, has taken possession of the hall -house, and the whole estate. 1 When my old master saw him a little before his death, he shook him by the hand, and wished him joy of the estate which was falling to him, desiring him only to make a good use of it, and to pay the several legacies, and the gifts of charity which he told him he had left as quit-rents upon the estate. The captain truly seems a courteous man, though he says but little. He makes much of those whom my master loved, and shows great kindnesses to the old house-dog, that you know my poor mas- ter was so fond of. It would have gone to your heart to have heard the moans the dumb creature made on the day of my master's death. He has never joyed himself since ; no more has any of us. 'Twas the melancholiest day for the poor people that ever happened in Worcester- shire. This is all from, " Honored Sir, " Your most sorrowful servant, " Edward Biscuit. " P. S. My master desired, some weeks before he died, that a book which comes up to you by the carrier should be given to Sir Andrew Freeport, in his name." This letter, notwithstanding the poor 1 The 544th number of the Spectator (Nov. 24th, 1712) contains a letter from the new Esquire, in which he says, " I cannot reflect upon his [Sir Roger's] character but I am confirmed in the truth which I have, I think, heard spoken at the club ; to wit, that a man of a warm and well-disposed heart, with a very small capacity, is highly superior in human society to him who with the greatest talents is cold and languid in his affections. But, alas! why do I make a difficulty in speaking of my worthy ancestor's failings? His little absurdities and incapacity for the conversation of the politest men are dead with him, and his greater qualities are even now useful to him. I know not whether by naming those disabilities I do not enhance his merit, since he has left behind him a reputation in his country which would be worth the pains of the wisest man's whole life to arrive at." " I have continued all Sir Roger's servants except such as it was a relief to dismiss unto little livings within my manor; those who are in a list f the good Knight's own hand to be taken care of by me I have quartered upon suck as have taken new leases of me, and added so many advantages during the lives of the persons so quartered, that it is the interest of those whom they are joined with to cherish and be- friend them on all occasions." butler's manner of writing it, gave us such an idea of our good old friend, that upon the reading of it there was not a dry eye in the club. Sir Andrew opening the book, found it to be a collection of acts of Parliament. There was in particular the act of uniformity, with some passages in it marked by Sir Roger's own hand. Sir Andrew found that they related to two ot three points, which he had disputed with Sir Roger the last time he appeared at the club. Sir Andrew, who would have been merry at such an incident on another occasion, at the sight of the old man's hand-writing burst into tears, and put the book into his pocket. Captain Sentry in- forms us, that the Knight has left rings and mourning for every one in the club. END OF SIR ROGER DE COVERLET. A BANKER'S WIT. COULD anything be wittier for a banker than the following neat reply of Baron Rothschild, told by ArsSne Houa- saye? One of his friends, of the third degree, a sort of banker, came to borrow $2,000. " Here it is," said the baron, " but remember, that as a rule, I only lend to crowned heads.' 1 M. de Roth- schild never dreamed of seeing his money again, but, wonderful to relate, at the end of a month the borrower came back with his $2,000. The baron could scarcely believe his eyes ; but he foreboded that this was not the end. Sure enough, a month later the borrower re-appeared, asking for the loan of $4,000. " No, no," said the baron; "you disappointed me once by paying me that money. I do not want to be disappointed again." THE first dandy was made by Dame Nature, out of the refuse matter left from making Adam and Eve. He was con- cocted with a bouquet in one hand and a looking-glass in the other. His heart was dissected in the thirteenth century, and found to be a pincushion full of but- terflies and sawdust. He never falls in love, for to love requires both brains and a soul, and the dandy has neither. He is a long-lived bird ; he has no courage, never marries, has no virtues, and is never guilty of first-class vices. JOSH BILLINGS. LEGAL ANECDOTES. 179 LEGAL ANECDOTES. THE LAWYERS AND THE CAT. Two Arkansas lawyers were domesti- cated in the rude hotel of a country town. The hotel was crowded, and the room allotted to our heroes was also occupied by six or eight others. Shake down beds, enough to accommodate the guests, were disposed about the room, against the four walls, leaving an open space in the centre of the apartment. Judge Clark lay with his head to the north, on one side, and Judge Thomas lay with his head to the south, on the other Bide of the room. So far as that room was concerned, it might be said that their heads represented the north and south poles respectively. All the other beds in the room were occupied. The central part of the room was deemed neutral ground, in which the occupants of the different beds had equal rights. Here, in picturesque confusion, lay the boots, hats, coats, and breeches of the sleepers. There were no windows, and though the door was open, there being no moon, the night was very dark in that room. The wily lawyers, who had been oppos- ing counsel in a case tried in the town court that day, and had opposed each Other with the contumacity of wild pigs, were now the very incarnations of meek- ness, for when the hungry swarm of mos- quitoes settled down and bit them on the cheek they slowly turned the other to be bitten also. But hush ! hark ! A deep sound strikes the ear like a rising knell. " Me-ow-ow ! " Judges Clark and Thomas were wide awake, and sitting bolt upright in an in- stant. Again the startling cry I " Ye-ow, ye-ow ! " " That's a cat !" whispered Clark. Scat you I " hissed Thomas. Cat paid no attention to these demon- strations, but gave vent to another yowl. " Oh, gracious ! " cried Clark, " I can't stand this ! Where is he, Thomas ? " " On your side of the room somewhere," replied Thomas. " No, he's on your side," said Clark. " Ye-ow-ow-ow ! " " There I told you he was on your side," they both exclaimed in a breath. And still the howl went on. The idea now entered the heads of both the lawyers, that by the exercise of a cer% tain strategy they might be enabled to execute a certain flank movement on the cat, and totally demoralize him. Practi- cally each determined to file " a motion to quash " the cat's attachment for that room. Each kept his plan to himself, and in the dark, unable to see each other, pre- pared for action. Strange as it may appear, it is neverthe- less true, that the same plan suggested it- self to both. In words, tne plan would be about as follows : The yowler is evidently looking and calling for another cat, with whom he hag made an appointment. I will imitate a cat, and this cat will think t'other cat's around. This cat will come toward me, and when he shall have arrived within reach, I'll blaze away with anything I can Set hold of, and knock the mew-sic out of im. So each of the portly judges, noiselessly as cream comes to the surface of the milk, hoisted himself on to his hands and knees, and hippopotamus fashion advanced to the neutral ground occupying the central portion of the room. Arriving there Judge Clark selected a boot-jack, and Judge Thomas a heavy cow hide boot from the heap, and settled them- selves down to the work. Clark tightened his g^rip on the boot- jack, and throwing up his head, gave vent to a prolonged and unearthly "ye-ow-ow " that would have reflected credit upon ten of the largest kind of cats. " Aha," thought Thomas, who was not six feet away, "he's immediately close around. Now I'll inveigle him !" and he gave the regular dark-night call of a fem mine cat. Each of the judges advanced a little closer, and Clark produced a questioning "Ow-ow!" Thomas answered by a reassuring " pu- row-purow ! " and they advanced a little more. They were now within easy reach, and each imagining the cat had but a moment more to live, whaled away, the one with his boot, the other with his boot-lack. 180 LEGAL ANECDOTES. The boot took Clark square in the mouth, demolishing his teeth, and the boot-jack came down on Thomas's head just as he was in the midst of a triumphant " ye-ow J " When the lights were brought the cat had disappeared, but the catastrophe was in the opposite corners of the room, with heels in the air, swearing blue streaks. NOVEL REPLY TO A CHALLENGE. SARGENT S. PRENTISS was no duelist on principle, but he accepted the custom as it prevailed in his day in Mississippi as a necessity, and acted accordingly. As he rose in his profession he, of course, made business and political enemies, and, as a last resort to put him down, recourse was had to the laws of honor." Being a " Yankee," in the Southern acceptation of the word, it was presumed that " he would not fight ; " and if he refused, it was held that, as he would be disgraced, his over- whelming influence would be lost. To make the whole thing as unpalatable as possible to Mr. Prentiss, a wretched crea- ture who lived in Vicksburg, who, though once respectable, had lost every thing but a certain physical courage that made him willing to take the chances of a duel with a man of brilliant character who had never fired a pistol, was selected to presume an insult and send a challenge. Upon re- ceiving the "message" Mr. Preutiss at once comprehended the depth of the plot ; he was expected to bear the degradation of not only "backing down," but the addi- tional mortification of doing it to an in- dividual who was socially beneath con- tempt. Having read the challenge at- tentively, he said he would return an answer at the proper time. The following morning Mr. Prentiss made up a bundle, with a letter neatly tied on the outside, and by the hands of his servant sent it to the challenger. The principal and his friends were confounded at such a pro- ceeding. "Certainly," said they, "Mr. Prentiss must be profoundly ignorant of the ' laws of honor,' else he would not send an answer to a challenge by the hands of a nigger ; " but the reading of the note set the matter at rest. It read as follows : "Mr. , I have received your chal- lenge to mortal combat; before I can accept it, I insist that you shall have at least one quality of a gentleman, viz., be habited in a clean shirt, which desirable article I send you by the honest bearer of this note. Thus strengthened in your social position by a single quality that makes you worthy of my notice, I will then proceed to arrange farther pre- liminaries." It is useless to say that the duel did not take place. AN AMERICAN RIVAL TO CURRAN. CURRAN'S witticism in furnishing the motto " Quid rides " for the carriage of a rich tobacconist was equaled to our mind surpassed by one from S. H. Hammond, formerly District Attorney of Albany County, New York. In the city of Albany, where the court is held, there used to be in the Circuit Court a venerable old crier, who had held the office for many years, and was a universal favorite with the bar. He was always courteous and obliging, and among his voluntary ex-offido duties was that of supplying the lawyers with tobacco out of a well-filled box which he always carried. When S. H. Hammond closed his last term as District Attorney in Albany County, as an acknowledg- ment of the kindly services of the ancient crier, he presented him with an elegant silver tobacco-box, on which was engraven this motto : " Quid pro quo." Mr. Hammond was once trying a ease before Judge Bacon, of the Fifth Judicial District (New York), and in questioning a witness named Gunn, said to him when he had finished his examination, " Mr. Gunn you can go off." Judge Bacon saw the pun, and quickly added, " Yes, Mr. Gunn, you are discharged." Of course there was an explosion in court. HUNG" JURY. AMONG the dispensers of justice in a certain central ward of old St. Louis, dur- ing its unpretending, " even-handed " days, was Squire W . His astute comprehension of, and rigid adherence to, LEGAL ANECDOTES. vsi legal proprieties are yet recollected. A case was submitted to him, "once on a time ; " but, his decision not satisfying one of the parties (very likely to occur, by- the-by, even in primitive ages), the case was " continued ; " which further step, according to the rule in justices' courts, now as then, involves the ceremony and expense of a jury. The second trial came on, unfortunately, upon a morning which, for some good cause or other, the whole town had de- voted to jubilee and rejoicing whether it was that a great man was to be "re- ceived," or another great man dismissed, it is immaterial ; suffice it that guns and drums equally did their duty in calling the citizens away from theirs. Plaintiff and defendant were punctual in their attendance before the justice, anxious to settle their difference just as anxious to have their share of the show and the officer was despatched to collect a jury ; but after a no less anxious search, he was obliged to return without a man, his summons going for nothing in the general excitement. Impatient at the delay, the parties liti- gant agreed to waive the matter of a jury altogether; to just re-argue the matter and abide by " His Honor's " decision. But His Honor had his own more reverend parade, of the law to enjoy, and therefore, with a chief justice air, he declared that inasmuch as the case had been continued, and that the purpose of said continuance was entirely to obtain the sense of & jury, it would be all nonsense to proceed in any less regular way. " Therefore, Mr. Con- stable,' 1 continued the Squire, "you will, by virtue of your authori-ty, summon and compel the presence of a jury forth- with." The constable again set forth, the " bench " relapsed into abstruse cogita- tion, and the plaiutiffand defendant were fain to content themselves with the hope of getting clear " after a while." Wearily went the moments; but at length, the indefatigable officer, bathed in perspiration, returned, having secured one well-known, easy-going citizen, remark- able as being the largest, lovingest, and laziest man about town. "Squire," said the panting official, " I've gotten Bob, 'cause he says it don't make much difference to him; but there isn't nary nother as don't say they'll see me d d first, and so the thing's out, as far as my footin' on it goes, I reckon ! '' The constable wiped his brow with de- termination, the justice began to foresee ^ dilemma, and nothing but the "costs" prevented " the parties,' 1 in spite of then attorneys, from flipping up " head or tail ' for an issue. At length, the constable made a sug gestion, which the parties eagerly con senting to, the Squire finally sanctioned.. This was, that Bob, the lazy gentleman just mentioned, should serve as jury all alone by himself! All was settled at once ; the lazy gentle- man declared that it " made no difference," and getting a " chew " from the constable, down he sat. The pleadings were de- spatched ; the jury was charged ; the approaching procession was heard in the distance, and all parties were only waiting to hear the verdict, when the jury, after one or two indolent hitches in his chair, and a leisurely discharge of tobacco juice from between his teeth, turned to the court, and said " Well, I reckon, Squire, the jury '11 have to retire.'' This was unexpected, and had not been altogether the mode, either, in Justice W 's court, inasmuch as there was no place for the jury to retire to except with- in themselves ; but the present body was unanimously of opinion that he ought to have a fair shake at the merits of the case, and so ihecourt adjourned to the sidewalk, leaving the jury all to himself, with his heels on the table. Moment after moment passed away ; the litigants every now and then cast a glance in at the conscientious umpire; the procession was evidently approacning along the next street, and suddenly, the " opposite counsel " excusing themselves, walked off towards the corner. Drums, hurrahs, etc., now began to swell upon the air, and plaintiff and defendant, after sundry inquiries as to the chances, even marched off also, leaving the Squire and constable to receive the verdict. The constable next became impatient, and, finally, the Squire himself got the fidgets ; each moment seemed an age, until the dubious twelfth was just asked if he was " going to take the whole day or not? " "Well, the fact is, Squire, the jury can't agree, no how. We're just hung, and no mistake ; and, if you can't let us stay 182 LEGAL ANECDOTES. out, why you'd better discharge us, by thunder! " The jury was discharged ! J. M. FIELD (" Everpoint"). ANECDOTE OF GENERAL CA8S. JOHN GUY bore a striking resemblance co General Lewis Cass, and while he was proprietor of the National Hotel, in Washington, the Michigan Senator was among his favored guests. Guy dressed like Cass, and although not as portly, his face, including the wart, was strangely similar. One day a Western friend of the house came in, after a long ride, dusty and tired, and walking up to the office, encountered General Cass, who was quietly standing there. Mistaking him for Guy, he slapped him on the shoulder, and exclaimed : " Well, old fellow, here I am ; the last time I hung my hat up in your shanty, one of your clerks sent me to the fourth story ; but now that I have got hold of you, I insist upon a lower room." The General, a most dignified person, taken aback by this startling salute, coldly replied : " You have com- mitted a mistake, sir. I am not Mr. Guy ; I am General Cass, of Michigan, 1 ' and angrily turned away. The Western man was shocked at the unconscious mistake he had committed ; but before he had re- covered from his mortification, General Cass, who had passed around the office, confronted him again, when, a second time mistaking him for Guy, he faced him, and said : " Here you are, at last. I have just made a big mistake; I met old Cass, and took him for you, and I am afraid he has gone off mad." What General Cass would have said may be imagined, if the real Guy had not ap- proached and rescued the innocent offend- er from the twice-assailed and twice- angered statesman. HOW LONG. A CHICAGO paper says : During a re- cent trial before Justice Dougherty, it was thought important by counsel to de- termine the length of time that certain " two quarters of beef, two hogs and sheep " remained in an express wagon in front of plaintiffs store before they were taken away by the defendant. The witness under examination was a German, whose knowledge of the English language was very limited ; but he testified in a very plain, straightforward way to having weighed the meat, and to having afterward carried it out and put it into the aforesaid wagon. Then the fol- lowing ensued : Counsellor Enos State to the jury how long it was after you took the meat from the store and put it into the wagon before it was taken away. Witness Now I shoost can dell dat. I dinks 'bout dwelve feet. I not say nearer as dat. Counsel You don't understand me. How long was it from the time the meat left the store and was put into the wagon before it was taken away by defendant? Witness Now I know not what you ax dat for. Der vagon he was up mit der sidewalk, and dat's shoost so long as it vas. You tell me how long der sidewalk vas. Den feet? Dwelve feet? Den I tells you how long it vas. Counsel I don't want to find out how wide the sidewalk was, but I want to know (speaking very slowly) how long thia meat was in the wagon before it was taken away. Witness Oh! dat! Veil now, I not sold any meat so. I all time weigh him, never measured meat, not yet. But I dinks about dree feet. (Here the spec- tators, and his honor, and the jury smiled audibly.) I know not, shentlemens, how is dis ; I dell you all I can, so goot as I know. Counsel Look here, I want to know how long it was before the meat was taken away after it was put into the wagon. Witness (looking very knowingly at counsel.) Now you try and get me into a scrape. Dat meat vas shoost so long in der vagon as he vas in der shop. Dat's all I told you. Dat meat was dead meat. He don't got no longer in den t'ousan* year, not mooch. Counsel That will do. WADE AND GIDDINGS. IN " Bench and Bar," Mr. L. J. Bige- low tells this anecdote. Hon. Benjamin LEGAL ANECDOTES. 183 F. Wade, and the late Hon. Joshua R. Giddings used to be constant competitors at the bar in " old benighted Ashtabula," their place of residence. In the early part of his practice, Wade was defending a man against an action of slander, and, after having concluded a very effective speech to the jury, sat awkwardly leaning backward, his feet on the counsel table, and facing Giddings, who was attempting to be eloquent in behalf of his slandered client. " Old Gid," as he was familiarly called, knew a little smattering of Shak- speare, and now determined to bring that great author to his aid. " Gentlemen of the jury," said he with ardor, " He that steals my purse, steals trash ; But he that robs me of my good name " (Ahem !) At this point, to his great discomfiture, Shakspeare deserted him. He repeated : " But he that robs me of my good name " (Another pause.) "Takes that I never had," whispered Wade, as if prompting him, and so dis- tinctly as to be heard by all in the room. Amid the laughter and his own con- fusion, Giddings brought his speech to such a " lame and impotent conclusion," that his client recovered but six and a quarter cents for his lost character. A GOOD LEGISLATIVE STORY. SPEAKING of the ayes and noes reminds us of a story which may not prove un- acceptable to legislative ears. Mike Walsh, he who made it lively in the lower House several decades ago, is the hero of it. One evening, the 21st of February, 184 , Mike occupied the chair in Committee of the Whole, while a bill was being considered having something to do with Indian affairs. The bill called out considerable debate, and prominent among those who proposed to make the discussion lengthy, was a green and gush- ing law-maker who embraced each and every occasion to give vent to his im- passioned eloquence. On this Indian bill he evidently intended to spread himself. A roll of manuscript lay on his desk to which he frequently referred while his fellow-members were talking, and at length it got to be noised about that the Hon. Mr. was to make an elaborate speech before the committee. The ladies' gallery was filled with sweet inspirations, and the gentlemen's gallery did not lack the many boots that make rapturous ap- plause. Those who had any objections to the Indian bill stated them as concisely a possible, and sat down so as to leave a smooth and unclaimed floor for the orator of the evening. At length he arose, spreading out his manuscript before him on his desk, and placing the glass of ice water brought him by a page, within easy reach. He began by remarking on the rush of memories brought to mind in con- sidering what evening it was on which they were then assembled, and then pro- ceeded as follows : " Mr. Chairman and gentlemen, on this Washington's birthday eve, we who are assembled here for the good of our own special State, are forcibly reminded of the Father of his Country who fought, bled, and labored incessantly and with thorough devotion for the good of all the States." At this point in his remarks the fluent speaker was interrupted by hearty ap- Elause ; he took advantage of it to moisten is lips with a little ice water, and then proceeded with a reference to the full length portrait of George Washington, which hung then as it hangs now, just be- hind the Speaker's chair. " Behold," said he, " that picture yonder, which stands a perpetual reminder of the virtues of patri- otism, and self-sacrifice. lips of our first president, speak to us now with some golden motto of duty I Nose, whose nostrils have breathed defiance at the enemies of the country. Eyes, whose lightning glances were so magnetic, we call for thee and the rest of that noble form to be potent in our presence now, and during all our session to " The rest, residue and remainder of the sentence was not spoken, for at this point the chairman, Mike Walsh, brought down his gavel and announced, " The gentle- man from is out of order in making the request he does. The ayes and noes can- not be called for in Committee of the Wliole." Those who were present when Mike made that ruling will never forget the scene it provoked. Ladies' and gentle- men's galleries, the floor and the lobbies, broke into a roar and yell of laughta? 184 LEGAL ANECDOTES. which could not be restrained under ten minutes. The gushing law-maker did not resume after this interruption, although Mike very kindly said, " the gentleman from will proceed in order." He was seized with a sudden attack of not feeling very well and withdrew. His views on that Indian bill were never known. GUILTY BUT DRUNK. IT is a well-known fact that oftentimes both those jokes which are called " practi- cal' 1 and that liquor which is termed " bad/' have been productive of exceed- ingly evil consequences ; but whether the liquor or the joke has done the most mis- chief, we are not called upon just now to determine. We propose to make men- tion of an affair where bad liquor and a practical joke were productive of the very best consequences imaginable. Many years ago, while the State of Georgia was still in its infancy, an ec- centric creature named Brown, was one of its Circuit Judges. He was a man of con- siderable ability, of inflexible integrity, and much beloved and respected by all the legal profession, but he had one com- mon fault. His social qualities would lead him, despite his judgment, into fre- quent excesses. In travelling the Circuit, it was his almost invariable habit, the night before opening the Court, to get "comfortably corned," by means of ap- pliances common upon such occasions. If he couldn't succeed while operating upon his own hook, the members of the bar would generally turn in and help him. It was in the spring of the year, taking his wife a model of a woman in her way in the old-fashioned, but strong" carry- all," that he journeyed some forty miles, and reached a village where " Court '' was to be opened next day. It was along in the evening of Sunday that he arrived at the place and took up quarters with a re- lation of his " better half," by whom the presence of an official dignitary was con- sidered a singular honor. After supper, Judge Brown strolled over to the only tavern in the town, where he found many old friends, called to the place, like him- self, on important professional business, and who were properly glad to meet him. " Gentlemen," said the Judge, " 'tis quite a long time since we have enjoyed a glass together let us take a drink all round. Of course, Sterritt (addressing the landlord), you have better liquor than you had the last time we were here the stuff you had then was not fit to give a dog I " Sterritt, who had charge of the house, pretended that every thing was right, and so they went to work. It is unnecessary to enlarge upon a drinking bout in a country tavern it will quite answer our purpose to state that somewhere in the region of midnight the Judge wended his very devious way towards his temporary home. About the time he was leaving, however, some younger barristers, fond of a " practical," and not much afraid of the bench, transferred all the silver spoons of Sterritt to the Judge's coat pocket. It was eight o'clock on Monday morn- ing that the Judge rose. Having indulged in the process of ablution and abstertion, and partaken of a cheerful and refreshing breakfast, he went to his room to prepare himself for the duties of the day. "Well, Polly," said he to his wife, "I feel much better than I expected to feel after that frolic of last night." " Ah, Judge, 1 ' said she, reproachfully, " you are getting too old you ought to leave off that business." " Ah, Polly ! what's the use of talking ?" It was at this precise instant of time, that the Judge, having put on his over- coat, was proceeding, according to his usual custom, to give his wife a parting kiss, that he happened in thrusting his hand into his pocket, to lay hold of Ster- ritt's spoons. He jerked them out. With an expression of horror almost indescrib- able he exclaimed "My God! Polly!" " What on earth's the matter, Judge?'* " Just look at these spoons ! "Dear me, where d'ye get them?" " Get them ? Don't you see the in- itials on them ? " extending them towards her" I stole them ! " "Stole them, Judge?" "Yes, stole them! " " My dear husband, it can't be possible ! from whom ?" " From Sterritt, over there ; his name is on them." " Good heavens 1 how could it happen ?" " I know very well, Polly I was very drunk when I came home, wasn't I?" LEGAL ANECDOTES. " Why, Judge, you know your old habit when you get among those lawyers." " But was I very drunk ? " "Yes, you was.' 1 " Waa I remarkably drunk when I got home, Mrs. Brown." * " Yes, Judge, druuk as a fool, and forty times as stupid." " I thought so, said the Judge, dropping into a chair with extreme despondency " I knew it would come to that, at last. I have always thought that something bad would happen to me that I should do something very wrong kill somebody in a moment of passion perhaps but I never imagined that I could be mean enough to be guilty of deliberate larceny ! " ' But, there must be some mistake, Judge? " " No mistake, Polly. I know very well how it all came about. That fellow, Sterritt, keeps the meanest sort of liquor, and always did liquor mean enough to make a man do any sort of a mean thing. I have always said it was mean enough to make a man steal, and now I have a prac- tical illustration of the fact!" and the poor old man burst into tears. " Don't be a child," said his wife wiping away the tears, " go like a man, over to Sterritt ; tell him it was a little bit of a frolic. Pass it off as a joke go and open Court, and nobody will ever think of it again." A little of the soothing system operated upon the Judge, as such things usually do ; his extreme mortification was finally subdued, and over to Sterritt's he went with a tolerable face. Of course, he had but little difficulty in settling with him for aside from the fact that the Judge's integrity was unquestionable, he had an inkling of the joke that had been played. The Judge took his seat in Court ; but it was observed that he was sad and melan- choly, and that his mind frequently wandered from the business before him. There was a lack of the sense and in- telligence that usually characterized his proceedings. Several days passed away, and the business of the Court was drawing towards a close, when one morning a rough-look- ing sort of a customer was arraigned on a charge of stealing. After the Clerk had read the indictment to him, he put the question : " Guilty, or not guilty ? " "Guilty but drunk," answered the prisoner. "What's that plea?" exclaimed the Judge, who was half dozing on the bench. " He pleads guilty, but says he was drunk," replied the clerk. " What's the charge against the man T n " He is indicted for grand larceny." "What's the case?" " May it please your honor," said the prosecuting attorney, "the man is reg- ularly indicted for stealing a large sum from the Columbus Hotel." " He is, hey ? and he pleads " " He pleads guilty, but drunk ! " The Judge was now fully aroused. " Guilty, but drunk ! That is a most extraordinary plea. Young man, you are certain you were drunk ? " " Yes, sir." " Where did you get your liquor? " " At Sterritt's." " Did you get none no where else ? " " Not a drop, sir." "You got drunk on his liquor, and afterwards stole his money ? " "Yes, sir." " Mr. Prosecutor," said the Judge, " do me the favor to enter a nolle prosequi in that man's case. That liquor of Sterritt's is mean enough to make a man do any thing dirty. I got drunk on it the other day my- self, and stole all of Sterritt's spoons ! Re- lease the prisoner, Mr. Sheriff; I adjourn the Court." COL. BRADBURY. RELATED TO THE JUDGE. JUDGE B , late one of the judges of the Eighth District of the State of Neur York, was a most amiable man, whose honor was unsullied, and who hated a mean action as every such character must. At the General Circuit he was hearing an action in which one of the parties hap- pened to be a namesake of his. During the trial, the party, having an opportunity, and thinking probably to gain _some ad- vantage by it, approached the judge and said : "We are of the same name, judge. I've been making inquiries, and find we are some relation to each other.'' " Ah I " said the judge, " is that so ? Are you sure of it ?" " Oh yes," said he, " no doubt of it." 186 LEGAL ANECDOTES. "Well," said the judge, " I'm very glad to hear that very glad indeed. I shall get rid of your case ; I shall dismiss it, because I cannot sit in a suit where I am related to one of the parties." This was a little more than the party had bargained for, and he began at once to paddle off. After a few inquiries as to the judge's ancestry, and their residence, etc., " I think, judge," said he, " I was mis- taken. We are of quite different families, and not at all related." " Ah ! " says the judge, " is that so ?" " Oh yes," said he, " there is no mis- take about it." " Well," replied the judge, in a very emphatic tone, " I'm glad to learn that very glad. I should hate awfully to be related to a man mean enough to attempt to influence a court as you have I " A LEGAL WAO. JUDSON T. MILLS, of South Carolina, r*as judge of a district court in Northern Texas, fond of a joke, but being very de- cided in his discharge of duty. Thomas Fannin Smith was a practicing lawyer at the bar, and having shamefully misstated the law in his address to the jury, turned to the court, and asked the judge to charge the jury accordingly. The judge was indignant, and replied : " Does the counsel take the court to be a fool?" Smith was not abashed by the reproof, but instantly responded : " I trust your honor will not insist on an answer to that question, as I might, in answering it truly, oe considered guilty of contempt of court." " Fine the counsel ten dollars, Mr. Clerk," said the judge. Smith immediately paid the money, and remarked, " it was ten dollars more than the court could show." " Fine the counsel fifty dollars," said the judge. The fine was entered by the clerk, and Smith, not being able to respond in that sum, sat down. The next morning, on the opening of court, Smith rose, and with much deference of manner began : " May it please your honor, the clerk took that little joke of yours yesterday about the fifty dollars as serious, as I per- ceive from the reading of the minutes. Will your honor be pleased to inform him of his error, and have it erased ? " The coolness of the request and the im- plied apology pleased the judge, aud he remitted the fine. THE BARRISTER AND THE WITNESS. THERE is a point beyond which human forbearance cannot go, and the most even of tempers will become roused at times. At an assize held during the past year, both judge and counsel had a deal of trouble to make the timid witnesses upon a trial speak sufficiently loud to be heard by the jury ; and it is possible that the temper of the counsel may thereby have been turned from the even tenor of its way. After this gentleman had gone through the various stages of bar pleading, and had coaxed, threatened, and even bullied witnesses, there was called into the box a young ostler, who appeared to be simpli- city personified. " Now, sir," said the counsel, in a tone that would at any other time have been denounced as vulgarly loud, " I hope we shall have no difficulty in making you speak out." "I hope not, zur," was shouted, or rather bellowed out by the witness, in tones which almost shook the building, and would certainly have alarmed any timid or nervous lady. " How dare you speak in that way, sir?" said the counsel " Please, zur, I can't speak any louder," said the astonished witness, attempting to speak louder than before, evidently think- ing the fault to be in his speaking too softly. "Pray, have you been drinking this morning? " shouted the counsel, who had now thoroughly lost the last remnant of bis temper. " Yes, zur," was the reply. " And what have you been drinking ? " " Corfee, zur." " And what did you have in your coffee, sir?" shouted the exasperated counsel. " A spune, zur f " innocently bawled the witness, in his highest key, amidst the roars of the whole court excepting only :he now thoroughly wild counsel, who flung down his brief and rushed out of court. LEGAL ANECDOTES. 187 METEMPSYCHOSIS. THE gifted Sargent S. Prentiss once gave a sumptuous dinner to some friends at a hotel in Vicksburg. Early in the evening a stranger entered the room by mistake. Prentiss courteously invited him to join the party. Before long the strange fuest began boasting of how much he had runk during the day a cocktail here, a smasher there, a julep in this place, a aling in that, and so on, apparently with- out end. At length Prentiss interrupted him : " Sir," said he, " do you believe in the doctrine of metempsychosis ? "' " I don't know/' was the reply, " and I don't see that it has anything to do with what we were talking about.' " It has/' rejoined Prentiss, " much much every way. I have firm faith in that doctrine. I believe that in the next life every man will be transformed into the thing for which he has best qualified himself in this. In that life, sir, you will become a corner groggery." A SAUCY LAWYER. JAMES T. BROWN, of Greensburg, Ind., a smart and saucy lawyer, was once em- ployed to defend a case before the Circuit Court of his state. The judge was not very learned in technicalities, knew but little Latin, and much leas Greek. The jury were taken from the country, ordinary farmers. The plaintiff's counsel had opened. Brown rose and spoke two hours in the highest possible style, soaring aloft, repeating Latin and translating Greek, using all the technical terms he could bring to the end of his tongue. The jury sat with their mouths open, the judge looked on with amazement, and the law- yers laughed aloud. Brown closed ; the case was submitted to the jury without one word of reply. Verdict in the box against Brown; motion for a new trial. In the morning Brown rose and bowed to the court : " May it please your honor, I humbly rise this morning to move for a new trial ; not on my own account ; I richly deserve the verdict, but on behalf of my client, who is an innocent party in this matter. On yesterday I gave wings to my imagi- nation, and rose above the stars in a blaze of glory. I saw at the time it was all Greek and turkey-tracks to you and the jury. This morning I feel humble, and I promise the court, if they will grant me a new trial, I will bring myself down to the comprehension of the court and jury." The Judge. " Motion overruled, and a fine of five dollars against Mr. Brown for contempt of court." "For what?" " For insinuating that this court don't know Latin and Greek from turkey- tracks." " I shall not appeal from that decision. Your honor has comprehended me this time." RIDICULE VERSUS ELOQUENCE. THE celebrated legal orator, Elisha Williams, of Columbia County, was a most graceful speaker, and his voice, particu- larly in its pathetic tones, was melody itself. All who remember Ogden Hoff- man's voice (he was called " the Flute " by his fellow-members of the bar of New York), can appreciate the mellifluous organ of Mr. Williams. His power over a jury was astonishing. He swayed aa with the wand of an enchanter, and it was very seldom he failed to secure a verdict for his client ; but on one occasion he did, in such a perfectly ridiculous manner, that a crowded court and grave judges on the bench were convulsed with laughter at the burlesque of the result. He was completely discomfited by an ignorant, impudent, unlettered pettifogger who knew no law, but somehow or other had obtained the credit of shrewdness, and the reputation among his farmer neighbors of being hard to beat. The case was an act of murder. Mr. Williams of course, on the ground of his power over the jury, was for the defence. His peroration was exceedingly touching and beautiful. " Gentlemen of the jury," said he, " If you can find this unhappy prisoner at the bar guilty of the crime with which he is charged, after the adverse and irrefragable arguments which I have laid before you, pronounce your fatal verdict ; send him to lie in chains upon the dungeon floor, waiting the death which he is to receive at your hands ; then go to the bosom of 188 LEGAL ANECDOTES. your families, go lay your heads on your pillows, and sleep if you can ! " The effect of the closing words of the great legal orator was at first thrilling ; but by and by the pettifogger, who had volunteered to follow the prosecuting at- torney, arose and said : "Gentlemen of the jury, I should de- spair, after the weeping speech which has been made to you by Mr. Williams, of saying any thing to do away with its eloquence. I never heerd Mr. Williams speak that piece of his'n better than what he spoke it now. Onct I heerd him speak it in a case of steal in', down to Schaghti- coke ; then he spoke it ag'in in a case of rape, up to JEsopus ; and the last time I heerd it before just now, was when them niggurs was tried and convicted, too, they was for robbin' Van Pelt's hen- house, over beyond Kingston. But I never knowed him to speak it so eloquent and affectin' as what he spoke it jes now. " This was a poser. The jury looked at one another, whispered together, and our pettifogger saw at once that he had got them. He stopped at once, closing with a single remark : " If you can't see, gentle- men of the jury, that this speech don't answer all cases, then there's no use of my saying any thing more.'' And there wasn't; he made his case, and they awarded him their verdict. CHIEF BAKON POLLOCK. A CAPITAL story is told of the ex-Chief Baron Pollock. Some one who wished the baron to resign waited on him, and hinted at his resignation, and suggested it for his own sake, entirely with a view to the prolongation of his valued life, and so forth. The old man rose, and said with his grim, dry gravity, " Will you dance with me?" The guest stood aghast as the Lord Chief Baron, who prides himself particularly upon his legs, began to caper about with a certain youth-like vivacity. Seeing his visitor standing surprised, he capered up to him and said, "Well, if you won't dance with me, will you box with me?" And with that he squared up to him ; and half in jest, half in earnest, fairly boxed him out of the room. The old Chief Baron had no more visitors anxiously in- quiring after his health, and courteously suggesting retirement. The Lord Chief Baron was prone to the expression of strong general views, which he conveyed in a manner eminently characteristic, with an idiomatic vigor and originality al- most amusing. "If,'* said he on one occasion, " every man were to take ad- vantage of every occasion to h&ve ' the law ' of his neighbor, life would not be long enough for the litigation which would result. All flesh and blood would be turned into plaintiffs and defendants." ELDON'S FIRST JUDGMENT. "THE first cause I ever decided," said Eldon, ''was an apple-pie cause; I must tell you of it, Mary. I was, you know, a senior fellow at the University College, and two of the undergraduates came to complain to me that the cook had sent them an apple-pie that could not be eaten. So I said I would hear both sides. I sum- moned the cook to make his defence ; who said that he always paid the utmost attention to the provisions of the college, that he never had anything unfit for the table, and that there was then a remark- ably fine fillet of veal in the kitchen. Now, here we were at fault ; for I could not understand what a fillet of veal in the kitchen had to do with an apple-pie in the hall. So, in order that I might come to a right understanding of the merits of the case, I ordered the pie itself to be brought before me. Then came an easy decision ; for the messenger returned, and informed me that the other undergraduates had taken advantage of the absence of the two complainants, and amongst them had eaten the whole of the apple-pie ; so you know it was impossible for me to decide that that was not eatable which was actu- ally eaten. I have often wished in after- life that all the causes were apple-pie causes; fine easy work it would have been." A FERTILE MIND. The following story is related by Mr. Jefferson, con- cerning the first Continental Congress: " Delegate Harrison, of Virginia, desiring a stimulant, presented himself and friend at a certain place where supplies were furnished Congress, and ordered two LEGAL ANECDOTES. 189 glasses of brandy and water. The man in charge replied that liquors were not in- cluded in the supplies furnished Congress- men. ' Why,' said Harrison, ' what is it, then, that I see the New England members come here and drink?' 'Molasses and water, which they have charged as station- ery ',' was the reply. 'Then give me the brandy and water,' quoth Harrison, ' and jharge it as fuel. 1 " INTERESTING CORRESPONDENCE. Gov- ernor Giles, of Virginia, once addressed a note to Patrick Henry, demanding satis- faction : " Sir, I understand that you have called me a ' bob-tail ' politician. I wish to know if it be true ; and if true, your meaning. " WM. B. GILES." To which Mr. Henry replied : "Sir, I do not recollect having called you a ' bob-tail ' politician at any time, but think it probable I have. Not recollect- ing the time or occasion, I can't say what I did mean, but if you will tell me what you think I meant, I will say whether you are correct or not. " Very respectfully, PATRICK HENRY." IRREPRESSIBLE. The Washington Star tells the following story of Hon. S. S. Cox, the " irrepressible '' Congressman from New York city : On Monday last, Cox was more than usually active, spurty, and irrepressible in the House. He was con- tinually at the front, " catching on the fly," and rampaging round generally. Finally, when the House came to an agreement to proceed with the debate on the salary bill in twenty-minute speeches, Cox despatched a page with the following note. " Dear Mr. Speaker : Put me down for twenty minutes. 8. 8. C." To which the speaker replied : " Dear Cox : I would be delighted if I could keep you down half that time. J. G. B." A PECULIAR VENERATION. Rufus Choate and Chief Justice Shaw, of Massachusetts, often indulged in wordy combat, and wit was generally freely ex- pended on both sides. Choate was once arguing a question before the chief justice (who was one of the homeliest men ever raised to the bench), and to express his reverence for the conceded ability of the judge, said, in yielding to an adverse de- cision: "In coming into the presence of your honor, I experience the same feelings the Hindoo does when he bows before his idol. I know that you are ugly, but I feel that you are great." " I'LL tell a lee wi' ony man in Scot- land," said a witness in an inferior court, and then with characteristic caution he added, " but I'll no swear to V SERJEANT COCKLE, a rough, blustering fellow, and well known on the northern circuit, once got from a witness more than he gave. In a trial of a right of fishery he asked the witness, " Don't you love fish?" "Ah," replied the witness with a grin ; " but I dunna like Cockle sauce with it." A BARRISTER tormented a poor Ger- man witness so much with questions, thjit the old man declared that he must have a drink of water before he could say an- other word. Upon this the judge re- marked, " I think, sir, you must have done with the witness now, for you have pumped him dry." " WHAT would be your notion of ab- sent-mindedness ? *' asked Rufus Choate of a witness whom he was cross-examining. "Well," said the witness, with a strong Yankee accent, " I should say that a man who thought he'd left his watch to hum, and took it out'n 'is pocket to see if he'd time to go hum ana get it, was a leetle absent-minded." CURRAN was a rare wit, but even he sometimes met his match. He was once examining a cross-grained, ugly-faced witness, from whom he sought to obtain a direct answer. At length he exclaimed, " It's no use trying to get truth out of you, for I see the villain in your face ! " " Do you, sir ? '' retorted the man with a smile ; " why, then it must be so ; faix, I never knew my face was a looking-glass before 1" GEN<, BUTLER and Judge Hoar once met as opposing counsel in an action for damages for loss of life brought before the Massachusetts Supreme Court on excep- tions. Butler cited from Job, " Yea, all that a man hath will he give for his life," when Judge Hoar remarked that that was 190 THE LOVER AND THE LAP-DOG. s plea of the devil in a motion for a new trial , and he didn't think that the court would be more impressed by it because of its modern endorsement. UPON the trial of a suit for divorce, one of the witnesses was asked whether he had spoken to any of the jury since the trial commenced. "Yes, sir, I have spoken to Mr. " (pointing to a juryman with a very red face). "What did you say to him ? Witness appeared reluctant to tell. The attorney insisted upon an answer. " Well," said the witness, " I told him that he had a very pretty face to sit on a jury, to decide whether a man was an habitual drunkard or not." AN old barrister was giving advice to his son, who was entering his father's pro- fession. "My son," said the counsellor, " if you have a case where the law is clearly on your side, but justice seems to be against you, urge upon the jury the importance of sustaining the law. If, on the other hand, you are in doubt about the law, but your client's case is founded on justice, insist on the necessity of doing justice, though the heavens fall. " But," asked the son, " how shall I manage a case where law and justice are dead against me ? " " In that case/' replied the old man, " talk round it." Two lawyers in a country court, one of whom had gray hair, and the other, though just as old a man as his learned friend, had hair which looked suspiciously black, had some altercation about a question of practice, in which the gentle- man with the dark hair remarked to his op- ponent, " A person at your time of life " looking at the barrister's gray head " ought to have long enough experience to know what is customary in such cases." " You may stare at my gray hair, if you like," retorted the other. "My hair will be gray as long as I live, and yours will be black as long as you dye I " KEEN and cutting words, or even trifling incivilities, indulged in at the expense of counsel, have sometimes met with swift retribution. Plunket was once engaged in a case, when, towards the end of the afternoon, it became a question whether the Court should proceed or adjourn till the next day Plunket expressed his willingness to go on if the jury would "set." "Sit, sir, sit," said the presiding judge, " not ' set ' ; hens set." * I thank you, my lord," said Plunket. The case proceeded, and presently the judge had occasion to observe that if that were the case, he feared the action would not " lay.'' " Lie, my lord, lie," exclaimed the bar- rister, " not ' lay' ; hens lay." THE rigid observance of old English rules in the Sonth Carolina courts, and a neglect of the same on the part of Mr. Petigrue, gave rise to the following pass- age : "Mr. Petigrue,'' said the Judge, "you have on a light coat. You can't speak." "Petigrue replied : " May it please the bench, I conform strictly to the law. Let me illustrate : The law says that the bar- rister shall wear a black gown and coat, and your honor thinks that means a black coat?" " Yes," said the Judge. " Well, the law also says the sheriff shall wear a cocked hat and sword. Does your honor hold that the sword must be cocked as well as the hat ? " He was permitted to go on. THE LOVER AND THE LAP-DOG. medio de fonte leporura Surgit amari ahquid. LUCRIT. JULIA was blest with beauty, wit, and grace : Small poets loved to sing her blooming face. Before her altars, lo I a numerous train Preferr'd their vows; yet all preferr'd in vain : Till charming Florio, born to conquer came, And touch'd the fair one with an equal Same. The flame she felt, and ill she could conceal What every look and action would reveal. With boldness then, which seldom fails to move, He pleads the cause of marriage and of love; The course of hymeneal joys he rounds, The fair one's eyes dance pleasure at th sounds. Naught now reraain'd by "Noes" how little meant And the sweet coyness that endears consent. The youth upon his knees enraptured fell : CURIOUS MARRIAGE CEREMONY. 191 The strange misfortune, oh ! what words can tell? Tell I ye neglected sylphs ! who lap-dogs guard, Why snatch'd ye not away your precious ward ? Why suffered ye the lover's weight to fall On the ill-fated neck of much-loved Ball ? The favorite on his mistress casts his eyes, Gives a melancholy howl, and dies ! Sacred his ashes lie, and long his rest ! Anger and grief divide poor Julia's breast. Her eyes she fix'd on guilty Florio first, On him the storm of angry grief must burst. That storm he fled : he woos a kinder fair, Whose fond affections no dear puppies share. 'Twerevain to tell how Julia pined away: Unhappy fair, that in one luckless day (From future almanacks the day be cross'd !) At once her lover and her lap-dog lost 1 SAMUEL TATLO COLEKIDOE, 1772-1843. CURIOUS MARRIAGE CEREMONY. SOON after the close of the war, Cap- tain X. was appointed a Justice of the Peace in a country place, not far from Raleigh, North Carolina. Beyond the management of real estate, drawing up deeds, etc., he had no legal knowledge, indeed, his entire stock of " book-learn- ing" was small and poorly selected, but any lack in general information was fully made up, for his uses, by self-assertion. Late one afternoon, while riding home, he met a young woman and two men. The young woman and one of the men wished to be married at once. They pro- cured the necessary license, but an irate father was on their path, and vowed that they should never be married. Now, the captain had never witnessed a marriage. He remembered having seen a book about the house years before with a form for marriage in it ; but where it was he could not remember. "Why," said he, when he told the story afterward, " I knew the Tostles' Creed and Commandments, and at first I thought I'd use 'em to begin on, but then I reckoned, on the whole, they was too solemn." A less assured f man would have been sorely perplexed, but not he. He lost no time in removing his hat, and remarked, " Hats off in the presence of the court." All being uncovered, he said, " I'll swear you in fust. Hold up yer right hands." "Me too?" asked the friend of the groom. " Of course," said the captain, " all wit- nesses must be sworn. You and each of you solemnly swear that the evidence you shall give in this case shall be the truth, th' 'ole truth, an' nothin' but the truth, s'elp you God. You, John Marvin, do solemnly swear that to the best of your knowledge an' belief you take this yer woman ter have an' ter hold for yerself, yer heirs, exekyerters, administrators, and assigns, for your an' their use an' behoof forever ? " " I do," answered the groom. " You, Alice Ewer, take this yer man for yer husband, ter hev an' ter hold for- ever ; and you do further swear that you are lawfully seized in fee-simple, are free from all incumbrance, and hev good right to sell, bargain and convey to the said grantee yerself, yer heirs, administrators, and assigns ? " "I do," said the bride, rather doubt- fully. " Well, John," said the captain, " that'll be about a dollar 'n' fifty cents." " Are we married ? " asked the other. " Not yet, ye ain't," quoth the captain, with emphasis ; but the fee comes in here" After some fumbling it was produced and handed over to the "Court," who ex- amined it to make sure that it was all right, and then pocketed it, and con- tinued : " Know all men by these presents, that I, Captain X., of Raleigh, North Carolina, being in good health and of sound and disposin' mind, in consid- eration of a dollar 'n' fifty cents to me in hand paid, the receipt whereof is here- by acknowledged, do and by these pre- sents have declared you man and wife during good behavior, and till otherwise ordered by the court." The men put on their hats again, the young couple, after shaking their bene- factor's hand, went on to meet their destiny and the irate father, while the captain, rode home richer in experience. Har- per's Magazine. CARPETS are bought by the yard and worn by the foot. 192 FLUSTERED. BOBBY'S TROUSERS. A HIGHLAND family of some dignity, but not much means, was to receive a visit from some English relations for the first time. Great was the anxiety and great the efforts to make things wear a respectable appearance before these as- sumedly-fastidious strangers. The lady had contrived to get up a pretty good dinner; but, either from an indulgent disposition, or from some defect in her set of servants, she allowed her son Bobby, a little boy, to be present, instead of re- manding him to the nursery. But little was she aware of Bobby's power of tor- ture. Bobby, who was dressed in a new jacket and a pair of buff-colored trousers, had previously received strict injunctions to sit at table quietly, and on no account to join in conversation. For a little while he carried out these instructions by sit- ting perfectly quiet till the last guest had been helped to soup, whereupon, during a slight lull in the general conversation, Bobby quietly said : " I want some soup, mamma.*' "You can't be allowed to have any soup, Bobby. You must not be always asking for things." " If you don't give me some soup im- mediately, I'll tell yon!" The lady seemed a little troubled, and, instead of sending Bobby out of the room, quietly yielded to his demand. Soup be- ing removed and fish introduced, there was a fresh demand. "Mamma, I want some sea-fish" (a rarity in the Highlands). " Bobby," said the mother, " you are very forward. You can't get any fish. You must sit quietly, and not trouble us so much." " Well, mamma, if I don't get some fish, mind I'll tell yon I " " Oh, Bobby, you're a plague ! " and then she gave him the fish. A little further on in the dinner, Bobby, observing his papa and the guests taking wine, was pleased to break in once more: "Papa, I would like a glass of wine!" By this time, as might well be sup- posed, the attention of the company had been pretty fully drawn to Bobby, about whom, in all probability, there prevailed but one opinion. The father was irritated at the incident. "Bobby, you must be quiet; you can have no wine." "Well, papa, if I don't get some wine, mind I'll tell yon I" " You rascal, you shall have no wine ! " " You had better do it," answered Bob- by, firmly. " Once, twice will you give me the wine ? Come, now, mind I'll tell yon / Once, twice " The father looked canes and lashes at his progeny. Bobby, however, was not to be daunted. "Here goes now! Once, twice will you do it? Once, twice, thrice! My trousers were made out of mother's old win- dow-curtains I " Stiff English party dissolves in uncon- strainable merriment. Dr. Robert Char.t- bers's " Scrap-JBook." FLUSTERED. A TALL, green-looking youth stepped into a village grocery where they keep something to drink as well as to eat, and after peering about a little spied some ginger cakes. Said he to the grocer : " Them's mighty fine cakes. What's the least you'll take for one of 'em ? " " Ten cents," replied the grocer. "Well, I believe I'll take one, if you'll wrap it up right good." The grocer wrapped up the cake and handed it to him. He looked thought- fully at it awhile and said : " I don't believe I want this cake, after all. Won't you swap me a drink for it? " "Yes," said the grocer, as he took back the cake and handed him a glass of some- thing. The young man swallowed the liquor and started off. " Hold on ! " cried the grocer, " you haven't paid me for my drink." " I swapped you the cake for the drink.'' " But you haven't paid me for the cake." " You've got your cake." This last retort so nonplussed the gro- cer that he stood and scratched his puz- zled head, while the young man made good his retreat. TRAVELS AND ADVENTURES OF BAROF MUNCHAUSEN. 193 THE TRAVELS AND SURPRISING ADVENTURES OF BARON MUNCHAUSEN. INTRODUCTORY NOTICE. So many different opinions have obtained respecting the authorship of " The Travels of Baron Munchausen," and the motives for writing that work, that it seems desir- able to furnish some explanation on both these points. The general opinion appears to be that expressed by a writer in Notes and Queries (No. 68, 1851) : "The Travels of Baron Munchausen were written to ridicule Bruce, the Abyssinian traveler, whose adventures were at that time deemed fictitious." But the writer of the above article offers the best evidence for correcting this opinion ; for he goes on to say, that he had for years sought a copy of the work, and had at last been successful, and describes it as " the second edition, considerably enlarged, and ornamented with twenty explanatory engravings from original designs," and as being entitled " ' Gulliver Revived, or the Vice of Lying properly exposed, printed for the Kearsleys, at London, 1793.' " He also describes a second volume, "A Sequel to the Adventures of Baron Munchausen^ a new edition, with twenty capital copper- plates, including the Baron's portrait, hum- bly dedicated to Mr. Bruce, the Abyssinian traveler," published by Symonds, Paternos- ter Row, 1796. Copies of both of these volumes are in the British Museum, and completely clear up the question. " Gulliver Revived " is identical in every respect with the above described, except that it is called the seventh edition instead of the second. The fall title runs : " The Seventh Edition, considerably en- larged, and ornamented with twenty ex- planatory engravings from original designs : GULLIVER REVIVED ; or, the Vice of Lying properly exposed : containing Singular Travels, Campaigns, Voyages and Adven- tures in Russia, the Caspian Sea, Iceland, Turkey, Egypt, Gibraltar, up the Mediter- ranean, on the Atlantic Ocean, and through the centre of Mount ^Etna, into the South Sea. " Also an account of a Voyage into the Moon and Dog-star, with many extraor- VOL. II. \V. H. dinary particulars relating to the cooking animals in those planets, which are there called the Human Species. By BARON MUNCHAUSEN. London : Printed for C. & G. Kearsley, Fleet Street, 1793." The preface to this seventh edition says : " The first edition was comparatively slow in sale, but the whole of the subsequent impressions were purchased within a short time after they were printed. This seventh edition contains such considerable additions that it may be fairly considered as a new work." We thus see that the six editions (the second to the seventh), were issued in 1793, but as the plates to the seventh edition (and doubtless to the second and other editions) bear the imprint, " Published as the Act directs, for G. Kearsley, at 46, in Fleet Street, London, 1786," it becomes evident that the first edition was issued in that year ; and that being four years before the publi- cation of" Bruce's Travels," which appeared in 1790, the work could not have been written to ridicule them. In fact, recent investigation has rendered it almost a cer- tainty that the original author of " Mun- chausen's Travels " was a learned but un- principled scholar, of the name of R. E. Raspe, who had taken refuge in England from the pursuit of justice (vide Gen- tleman's Magazine, January, 1857), and that many of his stories are of ancient date, and current . in various countries. Many are to be found under the title of "Mendacia Ridicula," in vol. iii. of Deli- cise Academicse," Heilbron, 1665 ; that of " sound being frozen in a post-horn " is from Rabelais, appears to have been known also in Spain and Italy, and is said by a writer in Notes and Queries (No. 61, 1850) to be traceable to one of the later Greek writers, from whom Jeremy Taylor, in one of his sermons, borrows it as an illustration ; while the story of " the horse cut in two by the portcullis " is translated by Lady C. Guest, in " The Mabinogion," from an an- cient Welsh manuscript. This being the case, it may reasonably be asked how the very general opinion could have originated an opinion enter- tained by Bruce himself that Munchausen was written to ridicule his travels? And this question appears to derive its conclu- sive reply from the " Sequel " above alluded to, of which the first edition is in the Brit- ish Museum, and whose title runs thus : " (With 20 capital Copper-plates, incl;. 1 13 TRAVELS AND ADVENTURES ON BARON MUNCHAUSEN. ing the Baron's Portrait.) A SEQUEL TO THE ADVKNTURES OK BARON MUNCHAUSEN, Humbly dedicated to Mr. Bruce, the Abys- sinian Traveler, as the Baron conceives that it may be of some service to him, pre- vious to his making another expedition into Abyssinia. But if this advice does not delight Mr. Bruce, the Baron is willing to fight him on any terms he pleases. Lon- don : Printed for H. D. Symonds, Pater- noster Row, 1792." It thus appears that, though the original work was " comparatively slow in sale," a new impetus was given to it by the issue of this the tree was covered with the richest fruit, the like I had never tasted before. Who knows but some passionate, holy sports- man, or sporting abbot or bishop, may have shot, planted and fixed the cross be- tween the antlers of St. Hubert's stag, in a manner similar to this? They always have been, and still are, famous for plan- tations of crosses and antlers ; and in a case of distress or dilemma, which too often happens to keen sportsmen, one ia 200 TRAVELS AND ADVENTURES OF BARON^MUNCHAUSEN. apt to grasp at anything for safety, and to try any expedient rather than miss the favorable opportunity. I have many times found myself in that trying situation. What do you say of this, for example? Daylight and powder were spent one day in a Polish forest. When I was going home a terrible bear made up to me in great speed, with open mouth, ready to fall upon me ; all my pockets were search- ed in an instant for powder and ball, but in vain ; I found nothing but two spare flints: one I flung with all my might into the monster's open jaws, down his throat. Itgave him pain and made him turn about, so that I could level the second at his back-door ; which, indeed, I did with wonderful success ; for it flew in, met the first flint in the stomach, struck fire, and blew up the bear with a terrible explosion. Though I came safe off that time, yet I should not wish to try it again, or venture against bears with no other ammunition. There is a kind of fatality in it. The fiercest and most dangerous animals gener- ally came upon me when defenseless, as if they had a notion or an instinctive inti- mation of it. Thus a frightful wolf rushed upon me so suddenly, and so close, that I could do nothing but follow mechanical instinct, and thrust my fist into his open mouth. For safety's sake I pushed on and on, till my arm was fairly in up to the shoulder. How should I disengage my- self? I was not much pleased with my awkward situation with a wolf face to face; our ogling was not of the most pleasant kind. If I withdrew my arm, ithen the animal would fly the more furi- ously upon me ; that I saw in his flaming tyes. In short, I laid hold of his tail, turned him inside out like a glove, and flung him to the ground, where I left him. The same expedient would not have answered against a mad dog, which soon after came running against me in a narrow street at St. Petersburg. Hun who can, I thought ; and to do this the better, I threw off my fur cloak, and was safe within doors in an instant. I sent my servant for the cloak, and he put it in the wardrobe with my other clothes. The day after I was amazed and frightened by Jack's bawling, " For God's sake, sir, your fur cloak is mad ! " I hastened up to him, and found almost all my clothes tossed about and torn to pieces. The fellow was perfectly right in his apprehensions about the fur cloak's madness. I saw him myself just then falling upon a fine full-dress suit, which he shook and tossed in an unmerci- ful manner. CHAPTER V. THE EFFECTS OF GEEAT ACTIVITY AND PRE- SENCE OF MIND A FAVORITE HOUND DE- SCRIBED, WHICH PUPS WHILE PURSUING A HARE; THE HARE ALSO LITTERS WHILE PURSUED BY THE HOUND PRESENTED WITH A FAMOUS HORSE RY COUNT PRZO- BOSSKY, WITH WHICH HE PERFORMS MANY EXTRAORDINARY FEATS. ALL these narrow and lucky escapes, gentlemen, were chances turned to ad- vantage by presence of mind and vigorous exertions, which, taken together, as every- body knows, make the fortunate sports- man, sailor, and soldier ; but he would be a very blamable and imprudent sportsman, admiral, or general, who would always depend upon chance and his stars, with- out troubling himself about those arts which are their particular pursuits, and without providing the very best imple- ments, which insure success. I was not blamable either way; for I have always been as remarkable for the excellency of my horses, dogs, guns, and swords, as for the proper manner of using and managing them, so that upon the whole I may hope to be remembered in the forest, upon the turf, and in the field. I shall not ente here into any details of my stables, ken- nel, or armory : but a favorite bitch of mine I cannot help mentioning to you ; she was a greyhound, and I never had or saw a better. She grew old in my ser- vice, and was not remarkable for her size, but rather for her uncommon swiftness. I always coursed with her. Had you seen her you must have admired her, and would not have wondered at my predilection, and at my coursing her so much. She ran so fast, so much, and so long in my ser- vice, that she actually ran off her legs ; so that, in the latter part of her life, I was under the necessity of working and using her only as a terrier, in which quality she still served me many years. Coursing one day a hare, which ap peared to me uncommonly big, I pitied my poor bitch, being big with pups, yet she would course as fast as ever. I could follow her on horseback only at a great TRAVELS AND ADVENTURES OF BARON MUNCHAUSEN. 201 distance. At once I heard a cry as it were of a pack of hounds but so weak and faint that I hardly knew what to make of it. Coming up to them, I was greatly sur- prised. The hare had littered in run- ning ; the same had happened to my bitch in coursing, and there were just as many leverets as pups. By instinct the former ran, the latter coursed : and thus I found myself in possession at once of six hares, and as many dogs, at the end of a course which had only begun with one. 1 remember this, my wonderful bitch, with the same pleasure and tenderness as a superb Lithuanian horse, which no money could have bought. He became mine by an accident, which gave me an op- portunity of showing my horsemanship to a great advantage. I was at Count Przo- bossky's noble country-seat in Lithuania, and remained with the ladies at tea in the drawing-room, while the gentlemen were down in the yard, to see a young horse of blood which had just arrived from the stud. We suddenly heard a noise of dis- tress. I hastened down-stairs, and found the horse so unruly that nobody durst approach or mount him. The most re- solute horseman stood dismayed and aghast: despondency was expressed in every countenance, when, in one leap, I was on his back, took him by surprise, and worked him quite into gentleness and obedience, with the best display of horse- manship I was master of. Fully to show this to the ladies, and save them unneces- sary trouble, I forced him to leap in at one of the open windows of the tea-room, walked round several times, pace, trot and gallop, and at last made him mount the tea-table, there to repeat his lessons in a pretty style of miniature which was exceedingly pleasing to the ladies, for he performed them amazingly well, and did not break either cup or saucer. It placed me so high ia their opinion, and so well in that of the noble lord, that, with his usual politeness, he begged I would accept of this young horse, and ride him full career to conquest and honor in the cam- paign against the Turks, which was soon to be opened, under the command of Count Munich. I could not indeed have received a more agreeable present, nor a more ominous one at the opening of that campaign, in which I made my apprenticeship as a soldier. A horse so gentle, so spirited, and so fierce at once a lamb and a Buce- phalus put me always in mind of the soldier's and the gentleman's duty ! of young Alexander, and of the astonishing things he performed in the field. We took the field, among several other reasons, it seems, with an intention to re- trieve the character of the Russian arms, which had been blemished a little by Czar Peter's last campaign on the Pruth ; and this we fully accomplished by several very fatiguing and glorious campaigns under the command of that great general I mentioned before. Modesty forbids individuals to arrogate to themselves great successes or victories, the glory of which is generally engrossed by the commander nay, which is rather awkward, by kings and queens who never smelt gunpowder but at the field-days and reviews of their troops ; never saw a field of battle, or an enemy in battle array. Nor do I claim any particular share of glory in the great engagements with the enemy. We all did our duty, which, in the patriot's, soldier's, and gentleman's language, is a very comprehensive word, of great honor, meaning and import, and of which the generality of idle quidnunca and coffee-house politicians can hardly form any but a very mean and contempt- ible idea. However, having had the com- mand of a body of hussars, I went upon several expeditions, with discretionary powers ; and the success I then met with is, I think, fairly and only to be placed to my account, and to that of the brave fel- lows whom I led on to conquest and to victory. We had very hot work once in the van of the army, when we drove the Turks into Oczakow. My spirited Lithu- anian had almost brought me into a scrape : I had advanced fore-post, and saw the enemy coming against me in a cloud of dust, which left me rather uncertain about their actual numbers and real in- tentions : to wrap myself up in a similar cloud was common prudence but wouid not have much advanced my know- ledge or answered the end for which I had been sent out ; therefore I let my flankers on both wings speed to the right and left, and make what dint they could, and I myself led on straight upon the enemy, to have a nearer sight of them ; 202 TRAVELS AND ADVENTURES OF BARON MUNCHAUSEN. in this I was gratified, for they stood and fought, till, for fear of my flankers, they began to move off rather disorderly. This was the moment to fall upon them with spirit; we broke them entirely made a terrible havoc amongst them, and drove them not only back to a walled town in their rear, but even through it, contrary to our most sanguine expectation. The swiftness of my Lithuanian en- abled me to be foremost in thepmsuit; and seeing the enemy fairly flying through the opposite gate, I thought it would be prudent to stop in the market-place, to order the men to rendezvous. I stopped, gentlemen ; but judge of my astonishment when in this market-place I saw not one of my hussars about me ! Are they scour- ing the other streets ? or what is 'become of them? They could not be far off, and must, at all events, soon join me. In that expectation I walked my panting Lithu- anian to a spring in this market-place, and let him drink. He drank uncommonly, with an eagerness not to be satisfied, but natural enough ; for when I looked round for my men, what should I see, gentle- men ! the hind part of the poor creature croup and legs were missing, as if he had been cut in two, and the water ran out as it came in, without refreshing or doing him any good ! How it could have happened was quite a mystery to me, till I returned with him to the town-gate. There I saw that when I rushed in pell- mell with the flying enemy, they had dropped the portcullis (a heavy falling door, with sharp spikes at the bottom, let down suddenly to prevent the entrance of an enemy into the fortified town) unper- ceived by me, which had totally cut off his hind part, that still lay quivering on the outside of the gate. It would have been an irreparable loss, had not our farrier contrived to bring both parts to- gether while hot. He sewed them up with sprigs and young shoots of laurels that were at hand ; the wound healed, and, what could not have happened but to so glorious a horse, the sprigs took root in his body, grew up and formed a bower over me ; so that afterwards I could go upon many other expeditions in the shade of my own and my horse's iaurels. CHAPTER VI. THE BARON IS MADE A PRISONER OF WAR, AND SOLD FOR A SLAVE KEEPS THE SUL- TAN'S BEES, WHICH ARE ATTACKED BY TWO BEARS LOSES ONE OF HIS BEES ; A SILVER HATCHET, WHICH HE THROWS AT THE BEARS, REBOUNDS AND FLIES UP TO THE MOON ; BRINGS IT BACK BY AN INGENIOUS INVENTION; FALLS TO THE EARTH ON HIS RETURN, AND HELPS HIMSELF OUT OF A PIT EXTRICATES HIMSELF FROM A CAR- RIAGE WHICH MEETS HIS IN A NARROW ROAD, IN A MANNER NEVER BEFORE AT- TEMPTED NOR PRACTICED SINCE THE WONDERFUL EFFECTS OF THE FROST UPON HIS SERVANT'S FRENCH HORN. SUCCESS was not always with me. I had the misfortune to be overpowered by numbers, to be made prisoner of war : and, what is worse, but always usual among the Turks, to be sold for a slave. [The Baron was afterwards in great favor with the Grand Seignior, as will appear here- after.] In that state of humiliation my daily task was not very hard and labori- ous, but rather singular and irksome. It was to drive the Sultan's bees every morn- ing to their pasture-grounds, to attend them all the day long, and against night to drive them back to their hives. One evening I missed a bee, and soon observed that two bears had fallen upon her to tear her to pieces for the honey she carried. I had nothing like an offensive weapon in my hands but the silver hatchet, which is the badge of the Sultan's gardeners and farmers. I threw it at the robbers, with an intention to frighten them away, and set the poor bee at liberty ; but by an un- lucky turn of my arm, it flew upwards, and continued rising till it reached the moon. How should I recover it? how fetch it down again? I recollected that Turkey-beans grow very quick, and run up to an astonishing height. I planted one immediately ; it grew, and actually fastened itself to one of the moon's horns. I had no more to do now but to climb up by it into the moon, where I safely ar- rived, and had a troublesome piece of business before I could find my silver hatchet, in a place where everything has the brightness of silver ; at last, however, I found it in a heap of chaff and chopped straw. I was now for returning : but, alas! the heat of the sun had dried up my bean ; it was totally useless for my de- scent; so I fell to work and twisted me a TRAVELS AND ADVENTURES OF BARON MUNCHAUSEN. *ope of that chopped straw, as long and as well as I could make it. This I fastened to one of the moon's horns, and slid down to the end of it. Here I held myself fast with the left hand, and with the hatchet in my right I cut the long, now useless end of the upper part, which, when tied to the lower end, brought me a good deal lower : this repeated splicing and tying of the rope did not improve its quality, or bring me down to the Sultan's farm. I was four or five miles from the earth at least when it broke ; I fell to the ground with such amazing violence, that I found myself stunned, and in a hole nine fathoms deep at least, made by the weight of my body falling from so great a height: I re- covered, but knew not how to get out again ; however, I dug slopes or steps with my finger-nails (the Baron's nails were then of forty years growth), and easily accomplished it. Peace was soon after concluded with the Turks, and gaining my liberty, I left St. Petersburg at the time of that singular revolution, when the emperor in his cradle, his mother, the Duke of Brunswick, her father, Field-marshal Munich, and many others were sent to Siberia. The winter was then so uncommonly severe all over Europe, that ever since the sun seems to be frost-bitten. At my return to this place, I felt on the road greater incon- veniences than those I had experienced on my setting out. I travelled post, and finding myself in a narrow lane, bid the postilion to give a signal with his horn, that other travellers might not meet us in the narrow passage. He blew with all his might ; but hia en- deavors were in vain, he could not make the horn sound, which was unaccountable and rather unfortunate, for soon after we found ourselves in the presence of another coach coming the other way : there was no proceeding ; however, I got out of my carriage, and being pretty strong, placed it, wheels and all, upon my head : I then jumped over a hedge about nine feet high (which, considering the weight of the coach, was rather difficult) into a field, and came out again by another jump into the road beyond the other carriage : I then went back for the horses, and plac- ing one upon iny head, and the other un- der my left arm, by the same means brought them to my coach, put to, and proceeded to an inn at the end of our I should have told you that the horse under my arm was very spirited, and not above four years old ; in making my second spring over the hedge, he express- ed great dislike to that violent kind of motion by kicking and snorting ; how- ever, I confined his hind legs by putting them into my coat pocket. After we ar- rived at the inn, my postilion and I re- freshed ourselves : he hung his horn on a peg near the kitchen fire ; I sat on the other side. Suddenly we heard a tereng I tereng I teng t teng I We looked round, and now found the reason why the postilion had not been able to sound his horn ; his tunes were frozen up in the horn, and came out now by thawing, plain enough, and much to the credit of the driver ; so that the honest fellow entertained us for some time by a variety of tunes, without putting his mouth to the horn The King of Prussia's March Over the Hill and Over the Dale with many other favorite tunes ; at length the thawing entertainment concluded, as I shall this short account of my Russian travels. [Some travellers are apt to advance more than is perhaps strictly true ; if any of the company entertain a doubt of my vera- city, I shall only say to such, I pity their want of faith, and must request they will take leave before I begin the second part of my adventures, which are as strictly founded in fact as those I have already related.] PAKT II. CHAPTER VII. THE BARON RELATES HIS ADVENTURES OH A VOYAGE TO NORTH AMERICA, WHICH ARE WELL WORTH THE READER'S ATTEN- TION PRANKS OF A WHALE A SEAGULL SAVES A SAILOR'S LIFE THE BARON'S HEAD FORCED INTO HIS STOMACH A DAN- GEROUS LEAK STOPPED "A POSTERIORI." I EMBARKED at Portsmouth in a first- rate English man-of-war, of one hundred guns, and fourteen hundred men, for North America. Nothing worth relating happened till we arrived within three hundred leagues of the river St. Lawrence, when the ship struck with amazing force against (as we supposed) a rock ; how- TRAVELS AND ADVENTURES OF BARON MUNCHAUSEN. ever, upon heaving the lead, we could find no bottom, even with three hundred fath- om. What made this circumstance the more wonderful, and indeed beyond all comprehension, was, that the violence of the shock was such that we lost our rud- der, broke our bowsprit in the middle, and split all our masts from top to bottom, two of which went by the board ; a poor fellow, who was aloft furling the main- sheet, was flung at least three leagues from the ship ; but he fortunately saved his life by laying hold of the tail of a large sea-gull, who brought him back, and lodged him on the very spot from whence he was thrown. Another proof of the vio- lence of the shock was the force with which the people between decks were driven against the floors above them; my head particularly was pressed into my stomach, where it continued some months before it recovered its natural situation. Whilst we were all in a state of astonishment at the general and unaccountable confusion in which we were involved, the whole was suddenly explained by the appearance of a large whale who had been basking, asleep, within sixteen feet of the surface of the water. This animal was so much displeased with the disturbance which our ship had given him, for in our passage we had with our rudder scratched his nose, that he beat in all the gallery and part of ithe quarter-deck with his tail, and almost .at the same instant took the main-sheet anchor, which was suspended, as it usually is, from the head, between his teeth, and ran away with the ship, at least sixty leagues, at the rate of twelve leagues an hour, when fortunately the cable broke, and we lost both the whale and the anchor. However, upon our return to Europe, some months after, we found the same whale within a few leagues of the same spot, floating dead upon the water ; it measured above half a mile in length. As we could take but a small quantity of such a monstrous animal on board, we got our boats out, and with much difficulty cut off his head, where, to our great joy, we found the anchor, and above forty fathom of the cable, concealed on the left side of his mouth, just under his tongue. [Perhaps this was the cause of his death, RS that side of his tongue was much swelled with a great degree of inflammation.] This was the only extraordinary circum- stance that happened on this voyage. One part of our distress, however, I had like to have forgot : while the whale was running away with the ship she sprung a leak, and the water poured in so fast that all our pumps could not keep us from sinking ; it was, however, my good fortune to discover it first. I found it a large hole about a foot in diameter ; you will natu- rally suppose this circumstance gives me infinite pleasure, when I inform you that this noble vessel was preserved with all its crew, by a most fortunate thought ! In short, I sat down over it, and could have dispensed with it had it been larger ; nor will you be surprised when I inform you I am descended from Dutch parents. [The Baron's ancestors have but lately settled there ; in another part of his adventures he boasts of royal blood.] My situation, while I sat there, was ra- ther cool, but the carpenter's art soon re- lieved me. CHAPTER VIII. BATHES IN THE MEDITERRANEAN MEETS AN UNEXPECTED COMPANION ARRIVES UNINTENTIONALLY IN THE REGIONS OF HEAT AND DARKNESS, FROM WHICH HE IS EXTRICATED BY DANCING A HORNPIPE FRIGHTENS HIS DELIVERERS, AND RETURNS ON SHORE. I WAS once in great danger of being losl; in a most singular manner in the Medi- terranean : I was bathing in that pleasanlt sea near Marseilles one summer's after* noon, when I discovered a very large fish, with his jaws quite extended, approaching me with the greatest velocity ; there was no time to be lost, nor could I possibly avoid him. I immediately reduced myself to as small a size as possible, by closing, my feet and placing my hands also near my sides, in which position I passed di- rectly between his jaws, and into his sto- mach, where I remained some time in total darkness, and comfortably warm, as you may imagine ; at last it occurred to me that by giving him pain he would be glad to get rid of me : as I had plenty of room, I played my pranks, such as tum- bling, hop, step and jump, etc., but nothing seemed to disturb him so much as the quick motion of my feet in attempting to dance a hornpipe ; soon after I began he put me out by sudden fits and starts : I TRAVELS AND ADVENTURES OF BARON MUNCHAUSEN. persevered ; at last he roared horribly, and stood up almost perpendicularly in the water, with his head and shoulders exposed, by which he was discovered by the people on board an Italian trader, then sailing by, who harpooned him in a few minutes. As soon as he was brought on board I heard the crew consulting how they should cut him up, so as to preserve the greatest quantity of oil. As I under- stood Italian, I was in most dreadful ap- prehensions lest their weapons employed in this business should destroy me also ; therefore I stood as near the centre as pos- sible, for there was room enough for a dozen men in this creature's stomach, and I naturally imagined they would begin with the extremities : however, my fears were soon dispersed, for they began by opening the bottom of the belly. As soon as I perceived a glimmering of light I called out lustily to be released from a situation in which I was now almost suf- focated. It is impossible for me to do justice to the degree and kind of aston- ishment which sat upon every counte- nance at hearing a human voice issue from a fish, but more so at seeing a naked man walk upright out of his body ; in short, gentlemen, I told them the whole story, as I have done you, whilst amazement struck them dumb. After taking some refreshment, and jumping into the sea to cleanse myself, I swam to my clothes, which lay where I had left them on the shore. As near as I can calculate, I was near four hours and a half confined in the stomach of this animal. CHAPTER IX. ADVENTURES IN TURKEY, AND UPON THE RIVER NILE SEES A BALLOON OVER CON- STANTINOPLE ; SHOOTS AT, AND BRINGS IT DOWN; FINDS A FRENCH EXPERIMENTAL PHILOSOPHER SUSPENDED FROM IT GOES ON AN EMBASSY TO GRAND CAIRO, AND RETURNS UPON THE NILE, WHERE HE IS THROWN INTO AN UNEXPECTED SITUATION, AND DETAINED SIX WEEKS. WHEN I was in the service of the Turks I frequently amused myself in a pleasure- barge on the Marmora, which commands a view of the whole city of Constantino- ple, including the Grand Seignior's Se- raglio. One morning, as I was admir- ing the beauty and serenity of the sky, I observed a globular substance in the air, which appeared to be about the size of a twelve-inch globe, with somewhat sus- pended from it. I immediately took uj> my largest and longest barrel fowling* piece, which I never travel or make eveii an excursion without, if I can help it ; I charged with a ball, and fired at the globe, but to no purpose, the object being at too great a distance. I then put in a dou- ble quantity of powder, and five or six balls : this second attempt succeeded ; all the balls took effect, and tore one side open, and brought it down. Judge my surprise when a most elegant gilt car, with a man in it, and part of a sheep, which seemed to have been roasted, fell within two yards of me ; when my aston- ishment had in some degree subsided, I ordered my people to row close to thia strange aerial traveller. I took him on board my barge (he waa a native of France :)he was much indis- posed from his sudden fall into the sea. and incapable of speaking ; after some time, however, he recovered and gave the following account of himself, viz. : " About seven or eight days since, I can- not tell which, for I have lost my reckon- ing, having been most of the time where the sun never sets, I ascended from the Land's End in Cornwall, in the island of Great Britain, in the car from which I have been just taken, suspended from a very large balloon, and took a sheep with me, to try atmospheric experiments upon : unfortunately, the wind changed within ten minutes after my ascent, and instead of driving towards Exeter, where I in- tended to land, I was driven towards the sea, over which I suppose I have continued ever since, but much too high to make ob- servations. " The calls of hunger were so pressing, that the intended experiments upon heat and respiration gave way to them. I was obliged, on the third day, to kill the sheep for food ; and being at that time infinitely above the moon, and for upwards of six- teen hours after so very near to the sun that it scorched my eyebrows, I placed the carcass, taking care to skin it first, in that part of the car where the sun had sufficient power, or, in other words, where the balloon did not shade it from the sun, by which method it was well roasted in 206 TRAVELS AND ADVENTURES OF BARON MUNCH AUSEN. about two hours. This has been my food ever since." Here he paused, and seemed lost in view- ing the objects about him. When I told him the buildings before us were the Grand Seignior's Seraglio at Constantinople, he seemed exceedingly affected, as he had supposed himself in a very different situation. "The cause," added he, " of my long flight, was owing to the failure of a string which was fixed to a valve in the balloon, intended to let out the inflammable air ; and if it had not been fired at, and rent in the manner be- fore mentioned, I might, like Mahomet, have been suspended between heaven and earth till doomsday." The Grand Seignior, to whom I was in- troduced by the Imperial, Russian and French ambassadors, employed me to ne- gotiate a matter of great importance at Grand Cairo, and which was of such a nature that it must ever remain a secret. I went there in great state by land; where, having completed the business, I dismissed almost all my attendants, and returned like a private gentleman : the weather was delightful, and that famous river the Nile was beautiful beyond all description ; in short, I was tempted to hire a barge to descend by water to Alex- andria. On the third day of my voyage the river began to rise most amazingly (you have all heard, I presume, of the an- nual overflowing of the Nile), and on the next day it spread the whole country for many leagues on each side ! On the fifth, at sunrise, my barge became entangled with what I at first took for shrubs, but as'the light became stronger I found my- self surrounded by almonds, which were perfectly ripe, and in the highest perfec- tion. Upon plumbing with a line, my people found we were at least sixty feet from the ground, and unable to advance or retreat. At about eight or nine o'clock, as near as I could judge by the altitude of the sun, the wind rose suddenly and canted our barge one side ; here she filled, and I saw no more of her for some time. Fortu- nately we all saved ourselves (six men and two boys) by clinging to the tree, the boughs of which were equal to our weight, though not to that of the barge ; in this situation we continued six weeks and three days, living upon the almonds; and I need not inform you we had plenty of water. On the forty-second day of oui distress the water fell as rapidly as it had risen, and on the forty-sixth we were able to venture down upon terra firma. Our barge was the first pleasing object we saw, about two hundred yards from the spot where she sunk. After drying everything that was useful by the heat of the sun, and loading ourselves with necessaries from the stores on board, we set out to re- cover our lost ground, and found, by the nearest calculation, we had been carried over garden-walls, and a variety ofinclos- ures, above one hundred and fifty miles. In four days, after a very tiresome jour- ney on foot, with thin shoes, we reached the river, which was now confined to its banks, related our adventures to a boy, who kindly accommodated all our wants, and sent us forward in a barge of his own. In six days more we arrived at Alexan- dria, where we took shipping for Constan- tinople. I was received kindly by the Grand Seignior, and had the honor of seeing the seraglio, to which his highness introduced me himself. CHAPTER X. PAYS A VISIT DURING THE SIEGE OF GIBRAL- TAR TO HIS OLD FRIEND GENERAL ELLIOT SINKS A SPANISH MAN-OF-WAR WAKES AN OLD WOMAN ON THE AFRICAN COAST DESTROYS ALL THE ENEMY'S CANNON ; FRIGHTENS THE COUNT D'ARTOIS, AND SENDS HIM TO PARIS SAVES THE LIVES OF TWO ENGLISH SPIES WITH THE IDENTICAL SLING THAT KILLED GOLIATH ; AND RAISES THE SIEGE. DURING the late siege of Gibraltar, I went with a provision fleet, under Lord Rodney's command, to see my old friend General Elliot, who has, by his distin- guished defence of that place, acquired laurels that can never fade. After the usual joy which generally attends the meeting of old friends had subsided, I went to examine the state of the garrison, and view the operations of the enemy, for which purpose the general accompanied me. I had brought a most excellent re- fracting telescope with me from London, purchased of Dollond, by the help or which I found the enemy were going to discharge a thirty-six pounder at the spot where we stood. I told the general what TRAVELS AND ADVENTURES OF BARON MUNCHAUSEN. 207 they were about ; he looked through the glass also, and found my conjectures right. 1 immediately, by his permission, ordered a forty-eight pounder to be brought from a neighboring battery, which I placed with so much exactness (having long tudied the art of gunnery) that I was sure of my mark. I continued watching the enemy till I saw the match placed at the touch-hole of their piece; at that very instant I gave the signal for our gun to be fired also. About midway between the two pieces of cannon the balls struck each other with amazing force, and the effect was as- tonishing ! The enemy's ball recoiled back with such violence as to kill the man who had discharged it, by carrying his head fairly off, with sixteen others which it met with in its progress to the Barbary coast, where its force, after passing through three masts of vessels that then lay in a line behind each other in the harbor, was so much spent, that it only broke its way through the roof of a poor laborer's hut, about two hundred yards inland, and destroyed a few teeth an old woman had left, who lay asleep on her back with her mouth open. The ball lodged in her throat. Her husband soon after came home and endeavored to ex- tract it ; but finding that impracticable, by the assistance of a rammer he forced it into her stomach. Our ball did excel- lent service ; for it not only repelled the other in the mariner just described, but, proceeding as I intended it should, it dis- mounted the very piece of cannon that had just been employed against us, and forced it into the hold of the ship, where it fell with so much force as to break its way through the bottom. The ship im- mediately filled and sank, with above a thousand Spanish sailors on board, be- sides a considerable number of soldiers. This, to be sure, was a most extraordinary exploit ; I will not, however, take the whole merit to myself; my judgment was the principal engine, but chance assisted me a little ; for I afterwards found that the man who charged our forty-eight pounder put in, by mistake a double quantity of powder, else we could never have succeeded so much beyond all expectation, especially in repelling the enemy's ball. General Elliot would have given me a commission for this singular piece of ser- vice ; but I declined everything, except his thanks, which I received at a crowded table of officers at supper on the evening of that very day. As I am very partial to the English, who are beyond all doubt a brave people, I determined not to take my leave of the garrison till I had rendered them another piece of service, and in about three weeks an opportunity presented itself. I dressed myself in the habit of a Popish priest, and at about one o'clock in the morning stole out of the garrison, passed the enemy's lines, and arrived in the middle of their camp, where I entered the tent in which the Prince d'Artois was, with the commander-in-chief, and several other officers, in deep council, concerting a plan to storm the garrison next morning. My disguise was my protection ; they suffered me to continue there, hearing everything that passed, till they went to their several beds. When I found the whole camp, and even the sentinels, were wrapped up in the arms of Morpheus, I began my work, which was that of dismounting all their cannon (above three hundred pieces) from forty-eight to twenty-four pounders, and throwing them three leagues into the sea. Having no assistance, I found this the hardest task I ever undertook, except swimming to the opposite shore with the fa- mous Turkish piece of ordnance, described by Baron de Tott, in his " Memoirs," which I shall hereafter mention. I then piled all the carriages together in the centre of the camp, which, to prevent the noise of the wheels being heard, I carried in pairs under my arms ; and a noble appearance they made, as high at least as the rock of Gibraltar. I then lighted a match by striking a flint stone, situated twenty feet from the ground (in an old wall built by the Moors when they invaded Spain), with the breech of an iron eight-and- forty pounder, and so set fire to the whole pile. I forgot to inform you that I threw all their ammunition wagons upon the top. Before I applied the lighted match 1 had laid the combustibles at the bottom so judiciously, that the whole was in a blaze in a moment. To prevent suspi- cion I was one of the first to express my surprise. The whole camp was, as you may imagine, petrified with astonishment : the general conclusion was, that their sentinels had been bribed, and that seven, 208 TRAVELS AND ADVENTURES OF BARON MUNCHAUSEN. or eight regiments of the garrison had been employed in this horrid destruction of their artillery. Mr. Drinkwater, in his account of this famous siege, mentions the enemy sustaining a great loss by a fire which happened in their camp, but never knew the cause; how should he? as I never divulged it before (though I alone saved Gibraltar by this night's business) not even to General Elliot. The Count d'Artois and all his attendants ran away in their fright, and never stopped on the road till they reached Paris, which they did in about a fortnight; this dreadful conflagration had such an effect upon them that they were incapable of taking the least refreshment for three months after, but chameleon-like, lived upon the air. [If any gentleman will say he doubts the truth of this story, I will fine him a gallon of brandy and make him drink it at one draught.] About two months after I had done the besieged this service, one morning, as I sat at breakfast with General Elliot, a shell, (for I had not time to destroy their mortars as well as their cannon) entered the apartment we were sitting in ; it lodged upon our table ; the general, as most men would do, quitted the room di- rectly ; but I took it up before it burst, and carried it to the top of the rock, when looking over the enemy's camp, on an eminence near the sea-coast I observed a considerable number of people, but could not, with my naked eye, discover how they were employed. I had recourse again to my telescope, when I found that two of our officers, one a general, the other a colonel, with whom I had spent the preceding evening, and who went out into the enemy's camp about mid- night as spies, were taken, and then were actually going to be executed on the gibbet. I found the distance too great to throw the shell with my hand, but most fortunately recollecting that I had the very sling in my pocket which assisted David in slay- ing Goliath, I placed the shell in it, and immediately threw it in the midst of them : it burst as it fell, and destroyed all present, except the two culprits, who were saved by being suspended so high, for they were just turned off; however, one uf the pieces of the shell flew with wich force against the foot of the gibbet, lliat it immediately brought it down. Our two friends no sooner felt terra firma, than they looked about for the cause ; and finding their guards, executioner, and all, had taken it in their heads to die first, they directly extricated each other from their disgraceful corda, and then ran down to the seashore, seized a Spanish boat with two men in it, and made them row to one of our ships, which they did with great safety, and in a few minutes after, when I was relating to General Elliot how I had acted, they both took us by the hand, and after mutual congratulations we retired to spend the day with festivity. CHAPTER XI. AN INTERESTING ACCOUNT OF THE BARON'S ANCESTORS A QUARREL RELATIVE TO THE SPOT WHERE NOAH BUILT HIS ARK THE HISTORY OF THE SLING, AND ITS PROPER- TIES A FAVORITE POET INTRODUCEDUPON NO VERY REPUTABLE OCCASION QUEEN ELIZABETH'S ABSTINENCE THE BARON'S FATHER CROSSES TROM ENGLAND TO HOL. LAND UPON A MARINE HORSE, WHICH HB SELLS FOR SEVEN HUNDRED DUCATS. You wish (I can see by your counte- nances) I would inform you how I became possessed of such a treasure as the sling just mentioned. (Here facts must be held sacred.) Thus then it was : I am a descendant of the wife of Uriah whom we all know David was inti- mate with ; she had several children by his majesty ; they quarreled once upon a matter of the first consequence, viz : the spot where Noah's ark was built, and where it rested after the flood. A sepa- ration consequently ensued. She had often heard him speak of this sling as his most valuable treasure : this she stole the night they parted; it was missed before she got out of his dominions, and she was pursued by no less than six of the king's body-guards: however, by using it her- self she hit the first of them (for one was more active in the pursuit than the rest) where David killed Goliath, and killed him on the spot. His companions were so alarmed at his fall that they retired, and left Uriah's wife to pursue her jour- ney. She took with her, I should have informed you before, her favorite son by this connection, to whom she bequeathed TRAVELS AND ADVENTURES OF BARON MUNCH AUSEN. 209 the sling ; and thus it has, without inter- ruption, descended from father to son till it came into my possession. One of its possessors, my great-great-great-gran d- father, who lived about two hundred and fifty years ago, was upon a visit to Eng- land, and became intimate with a poet who was a great deer-stealer ; I think his name was Shakspeare : he frequently borrowed this sling, and with it killed so much of Sir Thomas Lucy's venison, that he narrowly escaped the fate of my two friends at Gibraltar. Poor Shakspeare was imprisoned, and my ancestor obtained his freedom in a very singular manner. Queen Elizabeth was then on the throne, but grown so indolent that every trifling matter was a trouble to her ; dressing, un- dressing, eating, drinking and some other offices which shall be nameless, made life a burden to her ; all these things he ena- bled her to do without, or by a deputy ! and what do you think was the only return she could prevail upon him to accept for such eminent services? setting Shaks- peare at liberty 1 Such was his affection for that famous writer, that he would have shortened his own days to add to the number of his friend's. I do not hear that any of the queen's subjects, particularly the beef -eaters, as they are vulgarly called to this day, however they might be struck with the novelty at the time, much approved of her living totally without food. She did not survive the practice herself above seven years and a half. My father, who was the immediate pos- sessor of this sling before me, told me the following anecdote : He was walking by the seashore at Harwich with this sling in his pocket; before his paces had covered a mile he was attacked by a fierce animal called a seahorse, open-mouthed, who ran at him with great fury ; he hesitated a moment, then took out his sling, retreated back about a hundred yards, stooped for a couple of pebbles, of which there were plenty under his feet, and slung them both so dexterously at the animal, that each stone put out an eye, and lodged in the cavities which their removal had oc- casioned. He now got upon his back, and drove him into the sea ; for the mo- ment he lost his sight he lost also his fe- rocity and became as tame as possible : the sling was placed as a bridle in his mouth ; VOL. ii. w. H. he was guided with the greatest facility across the ocean, and in less than three hours they both arrived on the opposite shore, which is about thirty leagues. The master of the THREE CUPS, at Helvoet- sluys, in Holland, purchased this marine horse, to make an exhibition of, for seven hundred ducats, which was upwards of three hundred pounds, and the next day my father paid his passage back in the packet to Harwich. [My father made several curious obser- vations in this passage, which I will re- late hereafter.] CHAPTER XII. THE FROLIC ; ITS CONSEQUENCES WINDSOB CASTLE ST. PAUL'S COLLEGE OF PHYSI- CIANS UNDERTAKERS, SEXTONS, ETC., AL- MOST RUINED INDUSTRY OF THE APOTHE- CARIES. THIS famous sling makes the possessor equal to any task he is desirous of per- forming. I made a balloon of such extensive di- mensions, that an account of the silk it contained would exceed all credibility ; every mercer's shop and weaver's stock in London, Westminster, and Spital- fields contributed to it : with this balloon and my sling I played many tricks, such as taking one house from its station and placing another in its stead, without dis- turbing the inhabitants, who were gener- ally asleep, or too much employed to ob- serve the peregrinations of their habita- tions. When the sentinel at Windsor Cas- tle heard St. Paul's clock strike thir- teen, it was through my dexterity ; I brought the buildings nearly together that night, by placing the Castle in St. George's Fields, and carried it back again before daylight, without waking any of the inhabitants ; notwithstanding these exploits, I should have kept my balloon and its properties a secret, if Montgol- fier had not made the art of flying so public. On the 30th of September, when the College of Physicians chose .their annual officers, and dined sumptuously together, I filled my balloon, brought it over the dome of their building, clapped the sling 210 TRAVELS AND ADVENTURES ON BARON MUNCHAUSEN. round the golden ball at the top, fasten- ing the other end of it to the balloon, and immediately ascended with the whole college to an immense height, where I kept them upwards of three months. You will naturally inquire what they did for food such a length of time ? To this I answer, Had I kept them suspended twice the time, they would have experienced no inconvenience on that account, so amply, or rather extravagantly, had they spread their table for that day's feasting. Though this was meant as an innocent frolic, it was productive of much mischief to several respectable characters amongst the clergy, undertakers, sextons, and f rave-diggers : they were, it must be ac- nowledged, sufferers; for it is a well- known fact, that during the three months the college was suspended in the air, and therefore incapable of attending their pa- tients, no deaths happened, except a few Avho fell before the scythe of Father Time, and some melancholy objects who, perhaps to avoid some trifling inconve- nience here, laid the hands of violence upon themselves, and plunged into misery infinitely greater than that which they hoped by such a rash step to avoid, with- out a moment's consideration. If the apothecaries had not been very active during the above time, half the un- dertakers in all probability would have been bankrupts. CHAPTER XIII. A TRIP TO THE NORTH. THE BAEON SAILS WITH CAPTAIN PHIPPS, ATTACKS TWO LARGE BEARS, AND HAS A VERY NARROW ESCAPE GAINS THE CONFI- DENCE OF THESE ANIMALS, AND THEN DE- STROYS THOUSANDS OF THEM ; LOADS THE SHIP WITH THEIR HAMS AND SKINS ; MAKES PRESENTS OF THE FORMER, AND OBTAINS A GENERAL INVITATION TO ALL CITY FEASTS A DISPUTE BETWEEN THE CAPTAIN AND THE BARON, IN WHICH, FROM MOTIVES OF POLITENESS, THE CAP- TAIN IS SUFFERED TO GAIN HIS POINT THE BARON DECLINES THE HONOR OF A THRONE, AND AN EMPRESS INTO THE BAR- GAIN. WE all remember Captain Phipps' (now Lord Mulgrave) last voyage of discovery to the north. I accompanied the captain, not as an officer, but a private friend. When we arrived in a high northern lat- itude I was viewing the objects around me with the telescope which I introduced X) your notice in my Gibraltar adven- tures. I thought I saw two large white sears in violent action upon a body of ice considerably above the masts, and about tialf a league distance. I immediately ;ook my carbine, slung it across my shoulder, and ascended the ice. When I arrived at the top, the unevenness of the surface made my approach to those ani- mals troublesome and hazardous beyond expression: sometimes hideous cavities opposed me, which I was obliged to spring over; in other parts the surface was as smooth as a mirror, and I was continually falling : as I approached near enough to reach them, I found they were only at play. I immediately began to calculate the value of their skins, for they were each as large as a well-fed ox : unfortu- nately, the very instant I was presenting my carbine my right foot slipped, I fell upon my back, and the violence of the blow deprived me totally of my senses for nearly half an hour ; however, when I re- covered, judge of my surprise at finding one of these large animals I have been just describing had turned me upon my face, and was just laying hold of the waistband of my breeches, which were then new and made of leather : he was certainly going to carry me feet foremost, God knows where, when I took this knife (showing a large clasp-knife) out of my side pocket, made a chop at one of his hind feet, and cut off three of his toes ; he immediately let me drop and roared most horribly. I took up my carbine and fired at him as he ran off; he fell directly. The noise of the piece roused several thousands of these white bears, who were asleep upon the ice within half a mile of me ; tney came immediately to the spot. There was no time to be lost. A most fortunate thought arrived in my pericranium just at that instant. I took off the skin and head of the dead bear in half the time that some people would be in skinning a rabbit, and wrapped myself in it, placing my own head directly under Bruin's; the whole herd came round me immediately, and my apprehensions threw me into a most piteous situation to be sure: how- ever, my scheme turned out a most ad- mirable one for my own safety. They aU TRAVELS AND ADVENTURES OF BARON MUNCHAUSEN. 211 *ame smelling, and evidently took me for i. brother Bruin ; I wanted nothing but bulk to make an excellent counterfeit : however, I saw several cubs amongst them not much larger than myself. After they had all smelt me, and the body of their deceased companion, whose skin was now become my protector, we seemed very so- ciable, and I found I could mimic all their actions tolerably well ; but at growling, roaring and hugging they were quite my masters. I began now to think how I might tnrn the general confidence which I had created amongst these animals to my advantage. I had heard an old army surgeon say a wound in the spine was instant death. I now determined to try the experiment, and had again recourse to my knife, with which I struck the largest in the back of the neck, near the shoulders, but under great apprehensions, not doubting but the creature would, if he survived the stab, tear me to pieces. However, I was re- markably fortunate, for he fell dead at my feet without making the least noise. I was now resolved to demolish them every one in the same manner, which I accom- plished without the least difficulty ; for, although they saw their companions fall, they had no suspicion of either the cause or the effect. When they all lay dead be- fore me, I felt myself a second Samson, having slain my thousands. To make short work of the story, I went back to the ship, and borrowed three parts of the crew to assist me in skinning them, and carrying the hams on board, which we did in a few hours, andloaded the ship with them. As to the other parts of the animals, they were thrown into the sea, though I doubt not but the whole would eat as well as the legs, were they properly cured. As soon as we returned I sent some of the hams, in the captain's name, to the Lords of the Admiralty, others to the Lords of the Treasury, some to the Lord Mayor and Corporation of London, a few to each of the trading companies, and the remainder to my particular friends, from all of whom I received warm thanks ; but from the city I was honored with sub- stantial notice, viz., an invitation to dine at Guildhall annually on Lord Mayor's day. The bear-skins I sent to the Empress of Russia, to clothe her majesty and her court in the winter, for which she wrote me a let- ter of thanks with her own hand, and sent it by an ambassador extraordinary, inviting me to share the honors of her bed and crown but as I never was ambitious of royal dig- nity, I declined her majesty's favor in the politest terms. The same ambassador had orders to wait and bring my answer to her ma- jesty personally, upon which business he was absent about three months : her ma- jesty's reply convinced me of the strength of her affections and the dignity of her mind ; her late indisposition was entirely owing (as she, kind creature ! was pleased to express herself in a late con- versation with the Prince Dolgoroucki) to my cruelty. What the sex see in me I cannot conceive, but the empress is not the only female sovereign who has offered me her hand. Some people have very illiberally re- ported that Captain Phipps did not pro- ceed as far as he might have done upon that expedition. Here it becomes my duty to acquit him ; our ship was in a very proper trim till I loaded it with such an immense quantity of bear-skins and hams, after which it would have been madness to have attempted to proceed further, as we were now scarcely able to com- bat a brisk gale, much less those moun- tains of ice which lay in the higher lati- tudes. The captain has since often expressed a dissatisfaction that he had no share in the honors of that day, which he emphatically called bear-skin day. He has also been very desirous of knowing by what art I destroyed so many thousands, without fa- tigue or danger to myself; indeed, he is so ambitious of dividing the glory with me, that we have actually quarreled about it, and we are not now upon speaking terms. He boldly asserts I had no merit in deceiving the bears, because I was cov- ered with one of their skins ; nay, he de- clares there is not, in his opinion, in Eu- rope, so complete a bear naturally as him- self among the human species. He is now a noble peer, and I am too well acquainted with good manners to dispute so delicate a point with his lord- ship. 212 TRAVELS AND ADVENTURES OF BARON MUNCHAUSEN. CHAPTER XIV. OUR BARON EXCELS BARON TOTT BEYOND ALL COMPARISON, YET FAILS IN PART OP HIS ATTEMPT GETS INTO DISGRACE WITH THE GRAND SEIGNIOR, WHO ORDERS HIS HEAD TO BE CUT OFF ESCAPES, AND GETS ON BOARD A VESSEL, IN WHICH HE IS CAR- RIED TO VENICE BARON TOTT'S ORIGIN, WITH SOME ACCOUNT OF THAT GREAT MAN'S PARENTS POPE GANGANELLI'S AMOUR HIS HOLINESS FOND OF SHELL- FISH. BARON DE TOTT, in his " Memoirs," makes as great a parade of a single act as many travellers whose whole lives have been spent in seeing the different parts of the globe; for my part, if I had been blown from Europe to Asia from the mouth of a cannon, I should have boasted less of it afterwards than he has done of only firing off a Turkish piece of ord- nance. What he says of this wonderful gun, as near as my memory will serve me, is this : " The Turks had placed below the castle, and near the city, on the banks of Simois, a celebrated river, an enormous piece of ordnance, cast in brass, which would carry a marble ball of eleven hun- dred pounds weight. I was inclined," says Tott, " to fire it, but I was willing first to judge of its effect; the crowd about me trembled at this proposal, as they asserted it would overthrow not only the castle, but the city also. At length, their fears in part subsided, and I was permitted to discharge it. It required not less than three hundred and thirty pounds weight of powder, and the ball weighed, as before mentioned, eleven hundred weight. When the engineer brought the priming, the crowds who were about me retreated back as fast as they could : nay, it was with the utmost difficulty I per- suaded the Pacha, who came on purpose, there was no danger : even the engineer who was to discharge it by my direction, was considerably alarmed. I took my stand on some stone-work behind the can- non, gave the signal, and felt a shock like that of an earthquake ! At the distance of three hundred fathom the ball burst into three pieces ; the fragments crossed the strait, rebounded on the opposite mountain, and left the surface of the wa- ter all in a foam through the whole breadth of the channel." This, gentlemen, is, as near as I can recollect, Baron Tott's account of the largest cannon in the known world. Now, when I was there not long since, the anecdote of Tott's firing this tremen- dous piece was mentioned as a proof of that gentleman's extraordinary courage. I was determined not to be outdone by a Frenchman, therefore took this very piece upon my shoulder, and, after bal- ancing it properly, jumped into the sea with it, and swam to the opposite shore, from whence I unfortunately attempted to throw it back into its former place. I say unfortunately, for it slipped a little in my hand just as I was about to discharge it, and in consequence of that it fell into the middle of the channel, where it now lies, without a prospect of ever recovering it, and notwithstanding the high favor I was in with the Grand Seignior, as before mentioned, this cruel Turk, as soon as he heard of the loss of his famous piece of ordnance, issued an order to cut off my head. I was immediately informed of it by one of the Sultanas, with whom I was become a great favorite, and she secreted me in her apartment, while the officer charged with my execution was, with his assistants, in search of me. That very night I made my escape on board a vessel bound to Venice, which was then weighing anchor to proceed on her voyage. The hist story, gentlemen, I am not fond of mentioning, as I miscarried in the attempt, and was very near losing my life into the bargain ; however, as it contains no impeachrnentof my honor, I would not withhold it from you. Now, gentlemen, you all know me, and can have no doubt of my veracity. I will entertain you with the origin of this same swaggering, bouncing Tott. His reputed father was a native of Berne, in Switzerland ; his profession was that of a surveyor of the streets, lanes, and alleys, vulgarly called a scavenger. His mother was a native of the mountains of Savoy, and had a most beautiful large wen on her neck, common to both sexes in that part of the world ; she left her parents when young, and sought her fortune in the same city which gave his father birth ; she maintained herself while single by acts of kindness to our sex, for she never was known to refuse them any favor they asked, provided they did but pay her some compliment beforehand. This lovely couple met by accident in the street, in TRAVELS AND ADVENTURES OF BARON MUNCHAUSEN. 21? consequence of their being both intoxi- cated, for by reeling to one centre they threw each other down : this created mu- tual abuse, in which they were complete adepte ; they were both carried to the watch-house, and afterwards to the house of correction; they soon saw the folly of quarreling, made it up, became fond of eaoh other, and married ; but madam re- turning to her old tricks, his father, who had high notions of honor, soon separated himself from her; she then joined a family who strolled about with a pup- pet-show. In time she arrived at Home, where she kept an oyster-stand. You have all heard, no doubt, of Pope Ganganelli, commonly called Clement XIV. : he was remarkably fond of oysters. One Good Friday, as he was passing through this famous city in state, to assist at high mass at St. Peter's Church, he saw this woman's oysters, (which were remarkably fine and fresh) ; he could not proceed without tasting them. There were about five thousand people in his train ; he ordered them all to stop, and sent word to the church he could not attend mass till next day ; then alighting from his horse (for the Pope always rides on horseback upon these occasions), he went into her stall, and ate every oyster she had there, and afterwards retired into the cellar where she had a few more. This subterraneous apartment was her kitchen, parlor, and bed-chamber. He liked his situation so much that he discharged all his attendants, and to make short of the story, His Holiness passed the whole night there! Before they parted he gave her absolution, not only for every sin she had, but all she might hereafter com- mit. [Now, gentlemen, I have his mother's word for it (and her honor cannot be doubted), that Baron Tott is the fruit of that amour. When Tott was born, his mother applied to His Holiness, as the lather of her child ; he immediately placed him under proper people, and as he grew up gave him a gentleman's education, had him taught the use of arms, procured him promotion in France, and a title, and when he died he left him a good estate.] CHAPTER XV. A FURTHER ACCOUNT OF THE JOURNEY FROW HARWICH TO HELVOETSLUYS DESCRIP- TION OF A NUMBER OF MARINE OBJECTS NEVER MENTIONED BY ANY TRAVELLER BE- FORE ROCKS SEEN IN THIS PASSAGE EQUAL THE ALPS IN MAGNITUDE; LOBSTERS, CRABS, ETC., OF AN EXTRAORDINARY MAG- NITUDE A WOMAN'S LIFE SAVED THE CAUSE OF HER FALLING INTO THE SEA DR. HAWES'S DIRECTIONS FOLLOWED WITH SUCCESS. I OMITTED several very material parts in rny father's journey across the English Channel to Holland, which, that they may not be totally lost, I will now faith- fully give you in his own words, as I heard him relate them to his friends sev- eral times. " On my arrival," says my father, " at Helvoetsluys, I was observed to breathe with some difficulty ; upon the inhabitants inquiring into the cause, I informed them that the animal upon whose back I rode from Harwich across to their shore did not swim ! Such is their peculiar form and disposition, that they cannot float or move upon the surface of the water; he ran with incredible swiftness upon the sands from shore to shore, driving fish in mil- lions before him, many of which were quite different from any I had yet seen, carrying their heads at the extremity of their tails. I crossed," continued he, " one prodigious range of rocks, equal in height to the Alps (the tops or highest part of these marine mountains are said to be upwards of one hundred fathoms below the surface of the sea), on the sides of which there was a great variety of tall, noble trees, loaded with marine fruit, such as lobsters, crabs, oysters, scollops, mus- sels, cockles, etc., etc. ; some of which were a cart-load singly ! and none less than a porter's ! All those which are brought on shore and sold in our markets are of an inferior dwarf kind, or, properly, waterfalls, i. e., fruit shook off the branches of the tree it grows upon by the motion of the water, as those in our gardens are by that of the wind ! The lobster-trees appeared the richest, but the crab and oysters were the tallest. The periwinkle is a kind of shrub ; it grows at the foot of the oyster-tree, and twines around it as the ivy does the oak. I observed the ef- fect of several accidents by shipwreck, etc., particularly a ship that had been 214 TRAVELS AND ADVENTURES OF BARON MUNCHAUSEN. wrecked by striking against a mountain or rock, the top of which lay within three fathoms of the surface. As she sunk she fell upon her side, and forced a very large lobster-tree out of its place. It was in the spring, when the lobsters were very young, and many of them being separated by the violence of the shock, they fell upon a crab-tree which was growing below them ; they have, like the farina of plants, united, and produced a fish resembling both. I endeavored to bring one with me, but it was too cumbersome, and my salt-water Pegasus seemed much displeased at every attempt to stop his career whilst I con- tinued on his back; besides, I was then, though galloping over a mountain of rocks that lay about midway the passage, at least five hundred fathoms below the surface of the sea, and began to find the want of air inconvenient, therefore I had no inclination to prolong the time. Add to this, my situation was in other respects very unpleasant ; I met many large fish, who were, if I could judge by their open mouths, not only able, but really wished to devour us ; now, as my Rosinante was blind, I had these hungry gentlemen's at- tempts to guard against, in addition to my other difficulties. "As we drew near the Dutch shore, and the body of water over our heads did not exceed twenty fathoms, I thought I saw a human figure in a female dress then lying on the sand before me with some signs of life ; when I came close I perceived her hand move; I took it into mine, and brought her on shore as a corpse. An apothecary who had just been instructed by Dr. Hawes (the Baron's father must have lived very lately if Dr. Hawes was his preceptor), of London, treated her properly, and she recovered. She was the rib of a man who commanded a vessel be- longing to Helvoetsluys. He was just going out of port on a voyage, when she, earing he had got a mistress with him, followed him in an open boat. As soon ! as she had got on the quarter-deck she j flew at her husband, and attempted to ] strike him with such impetuosity, that he j thought it most prudent to slip on one i side, and let her make the impression of her fingers upon the waves rather than his face : he was not much out in his ideas of the consequence ; for meeting no opposition, she went directly overboard, and it was my unfortunate lot to lay the foundation for bringing this happy pair together again. I can easily conceive what execrations the husband loaded me with when, on his return, he found this gentle creature wait- ing his arrival, and learned the means by which she came into the world again. However, great as the injury is which I have done this poor devil, I hope he will die in charity with me, as my motive was good, though the consequences to him are, it must be confessed, horrible." CHAPTER XVI. THIS IS A VEKY SHOBT CHAPTER, BUT CON- TAINS A FACT FOR WHICH THE BARON'S MEMORY OUGHT TO BE DEAR TO EVERY ENGLISHMAN, ESPECIALLY THOSE WHO MAY HEREAFTER HAVE THE MISFORTUNE OF BEING MADE PRISONERS OF WAR. ON my return from Gibraltar I travelled by way of France to England. Being a foreigner, this was not attended with any inconvenience to me. I found, in the harbor of Calais, a ship just arrived with a number of English sailors as prisoners of war. I immediately conceived an idea of giving these brave fellows their liberty, which I accomplished as follows : After forming a pair of large wings, each of them forty yards long, and fourteen wide, and annexing them to myself, I mounted at break of day, when every creature, even the watch upon deck, was fast asleep. As I hovered over the ship I fastened three grappling irons to the tops of the three masts with my sling, and fairly lifted her several yards out of the water, and then proceeded across to Dover, where I ar- rived in half an hour ! Having no further occasions for these wings, I made them a present to the Governor of Dover Castle, where they are now exhibited to the curious. As to the prisoners, and the French- men who guarded them, they did not awake till they had been near two hours on Dover Pier. The moment the English understood their situation they changed places with their guard, and took back what they had been plundered of, but no more, for they were too generous to re- taliate and plunder them in return. TRAVELS AND ADVENTURES OF BARON MUNCHAUSEN. 21.5 CHAPTER XVII. TOYAGE EASTWARD THE BARON INTRO- DUCES A FRIEND WHO NEVER DECEIVED HIM ; WINS A HUNDRED GUINEAS BY PIN- NING HIS FAITH UPON THAT FRIEND'S NOSE GAME STARTED AT SEA SOME OTHER CIRCUMSTANCES WHICH WILL, IT IS HOPED, AFFORD THE READER NO SMALL DEGREE OF AMUSEMENT. IN a voyage which I made to the East Indies with Captain Hamilton, I took a favorite pointer with me ; he was, to use a common phrase, worth his weight in gold, for he never deceived me. One day when we were, by the best observations we could make, at least three hundred leagues from land, my dog pointed ; I ob- served him for near an hour with astonish- ment, and mentioned the circumstance to the captain and every officer on board, asserting that we must be near land, for my dog smelt game. This occasioned a general laugh ; but that did not alter in the least the good opinion I had of my dog. After much conversation pro and con. I boldly told the captain I placed more confidence in Tray's nose than I did in the eyes of every seaman on board, and therefore proposed laying the sum I had agreed to pay for my passage (viz., one hundred guineas) that we should find game within half an hour. The captain (a good, hearty fellow) laughed again, desired Mr. Crowford, the surgeon, who was prepared, to feel my pulse ; he did so, and reported me in perfect health. The following dialogue between them took place ; I overheard it, though spoken low, and at some distance : Captain. His brain is turned ; I can- not with honor accept his wager. Surgeon. I am of a different opinion ; lie is quite sane, and depends more upon the scent of his dog than he will upon the judgment of all the officers on board ; he will certainly lose, and he richly merits it. Captain. Such a wager cannot be fair on my side ; however, I'll take him up, if I return his money afterwards. During the above conversation Tray continued in the same situation, and con- firmed me still more in my former opinion. I proposed the wager a second time, it was then accepted. Done! and done! were scarcely said on both sides, when some sailors who were fishing in the long boat, which was made fast to the stern of the ship, har- pooned an exceeding large shark, which they brought on board and began to cut up for the purpose of barrelling the oil, when, behold, they found no less than six brace of live partridges in this animal's stomach ! They had been so long in that situation, that one of the hens was sitting upon four eggs, and a fifth was hatching when the shark was opened 1 ! ! This young bird we brought up by placing it with a litter of kittens that came into the world a few minutes before ! The old cat was as fond of it as of any of her own four-legged pro- geny, and made herself very unhappy, when it flew out of her reach, till it re- turned again. As to the other partridges, there were four hens amongst them ; one or more were, during the voyage, con- stantly sitting, and consequently we had plenty of game at the captain's table ; and in gratitude to poor Tray (for being a means of winning one hundred guineas) I ordered him the bones daily, and some- times a whole bird. CHAPTER XVIII. A SECOND VISIT (BUT AN ACCIDENTAL ONE) TO THB MOON THE 'SHIP DRIVEN BY A WHIRLWIND A THOUSAND LEAGUES ABOVE THE SURFACE OF THE WATER, WHERE A NEW ATMOSPHERE MEETS THEM AND CAR- RIES THEM INTO A CAPACIOUS HARBOR IN THE MOON A DESCRIPTION OF THE IN- HABITANTS, AND THEIR MANNER OF COM- ING INTO THE LUNARIAN WORLD ANI- MALS, CUSTOMS, WEAPONS OF WAR, WINE, VEGETABLES, ETC. I HAVE already informed you of one trip I made to the moon, in search of my silver hatchet ; I afterwards made an- other in a much pleasanter manner, and staid in it long enough to take notice of several things, which I will endeavor to describe as accurately as my memory will permit. I went on a voyage of discovery at the request of a distant relation, who had a strange notion that there were people to be found equal in magnitude to those de- scribed by Gulliver in the empire of Brobdingnag. For my part I always treated that account as fabulous, however, 216 TRAVELS AND ADVENTURES OF BARON MUNCHAUSEN. to oblige him, for he had made me his heir, I undertook it, and sailed for the South seas, where we arrived without meeting with anything remarkable, ex- cept some flying men and women who were playing at leap-frog, and dancing minuets in the air. On the eighteenth day after we had passed the Island of Otaheite, mentioned by Captain Cook as the place from whence they brought Omai, a hurricane blew our ship at least one thousand leagues above the surface of the water, and kept it at that height till a fresh gale arising filled the sails in every part, and onwards we travelled at a prodigious rate ; thus we proceeded above the clouds for six weeks. At last we discovered a great land in the sky, like a shining island, round and bright, where, coming into a con- venient harbor, we went on shore, and soon found it was inhabited. Below us we saw another earth, containing cities, trees, mountains, rivers, seas, etc., which we conjectured was this world which we had left. Here we saw huge figures riding upon vultures of a prodigious size, and each of them having three heads. To form some idea of the magnitude of these birds, I must inform you that each of their wings is as wide and six times the length of the main sheet of our vessel, which was about six hundred tons burden. Thus, instead of riding upon horses, as we do in this world, the inhabitants of the moon (for we now found we were in Madam Luna) fly about on these birds. The king, we found, was engaged in a war with the sun, and he offered me a commission, but I declined the honor his majesty intended me. Everything in this world is of ex- traordinary magnitude! a common flea being much larger than one of our sheep : in making war, their principal weapons are radishes, which are used as darts : those who are wounded by them die im- mediately. Their shields are made of mushrooms, and their darts (when radish- es are out of season) of the tops of as- paragus. Some of the natives of the dog- star are to be seen here ; commerce tempts them to ramble ; their faces are like large mastiffs', with their eyes near the lower end or tip of their noses: they have no eyelids, but cover their eyes with the end of their tongues when they go to sleep ; they are generally twenty feet high. As to the natives of the moon, none of them are less in stature than thirty-six feet: they are not called the human species, but the cooking animals, for they all dress their food by fire, as we do, but lose no time at their meals, as they open their left side, and place the whole quantity at once in their stomach, then shut it again till the same day in the next month ; for they never indulge themselves with food more than twelve times a year, or once a month. All but gluttons and epicures must prefer this method to ours. There is but one sex either of the cook- ing or any other animals in the moon ; they are all produced from trees of various sizes and foliage ; that which produes the cooking animal, or human species, is much more beautiful than any of the others ; it has large, straight boughs and flesh-colored leaves, and the fruit it pro- duces are nuts or pods, with hard shells at least two yards long ; when they become ripe, which is known from their chang- ing color, they are gathered with great care, and laid by as long as they think proper: when they choose to animate the seed of these nuts, they throw them into a large cauldron of boiling water, which opens the shells in a few hours, and out jumps the creature. Nature forms their minds for different pursuits before they come into the world ; from one shell comes forth a warrior, from another a philosopher, from a third a divine, from a fourth a lawyer, from a fifth a farmer, from a sixth a clown, etc., etc., and each of them immediately begins to perfect themselves, by practicing what they before knew only in theory. When they grow old they do not die, but turn into air, and dissolve like smoke ! As for their drink, they need none ; the only evacuations they have are insensible, and by their breath. They have but one finger upon each hand, with which they perform everything in as perfect a manner as we do who have four besides the thumb. Their heads are placed under their right arm, and when they are going to travel, or about any violent exercise, they gener- ally leave them at home, for they can con- sult them at any distance ; this is a very common practice ; and when those of rank or quality among the Lunarians have an inclination to see what's going forward among ^the common people, they stay at home, i. e. the body stays at home, and sends the head only, which is suffered to TRAVELS AND ADVENTUKES OF BARON MUNCHAUSEN. 217 be present incog., and return at pleasure with an account of what has passed. The stones of their grapes are exactly like hail ; and I am perfectly satisfied that when a storm or high wind in the moon shakes their vines, and breaks the grapes from the stalks, the stones fall down and form our hail showers. I would advice those who are of my opinion to save a quantity of these stones when it hails next and make Lunarian wine. It is common beverage at St. Luke's. Some material circumstances I had nearly omitted. They put their bellies to the same use as we do a sack, and throw whatever they have occasion for into it, for they can shut and open it again when they please, as they do their stomachs ; they are not troubled with bowels, liver, heart, or any other in- testines, neither are they encumbered with clothes, nor is there any part of their bodies unseemly or indecent to exhibit. Their eyes they can take in and out of their places when they please, and can see as well with them in their hand as in their head ! and if by any accident they lose and damage one, they can borrow or pur- chase another, and see as clearly with it as their own. Dealers in eyes are on that account very numerous in most parts of the moon, and in this article alone all the inhabitants are whimsical : sometimes green and sometimes yellow eyes are the fashion. I know these things appear strange ; but if a shadow of a doubt can remain on any person's mind, I say, let him take a voyage there himself, and then he will know I am a traveller of veracity. CHAPTER XIX. THE BARON CROSSES THE THAMES WITHOUT THE ASSISTANCE OF A BRIDGE, SHIP, BOAT, BALLOON, OR EVEN HIS OWN WILL : ROUSES HIMSELF AFTER A LONG NAP, AND DE- STROYS A MONSTER WHO LIVED UPON THE DESTRUCTION OF OTHERS. MY first visit to England was about the beginning of the present king's reign. I had occasion to go down to Wapping, to see some goods shipped, which I was send- ing to some friends at Hamburg ; after that business was over, I took the Town Wharf in my way back. Here I found the sun very powerful, and I was so much fatigued that I stepped into one of the cannon to compose me, where I fell fast asleep. This was about noon ; it was the fourth of June ; exactly at one o'clock these cannon were all discharged in memory of the day. They had been all charged that morning, and having no suspicion of my situation, I was shot over the houses on the opposite side of the river, into a farmer's yard, between Ber- mondsey and Deptford, where I fell upon a large hay-stack, without waking, and continued there in a sound sleep till hay became so extravagantly dear (which was about three months after), that the farmer found it his interest to send his whole stock to market : the stack I was reposing upon was the largest in the yard, contain- ing about five hundred loads ; they began to cut that first. I woke with the voices of the people who had ascended the lad- ders to begin at the top, and got up, to- tally ignorant of my situation : in attempt- ing to run away I fell upon the farmer to whom the hay belonged, and broke his neck, yet received no injury myself. I afterwards found, to my great consolation, that this fellow was a most detestable character, always keeping the produce of his grounds for extravagant markets. CHAPTER XX. THE BARON SLIPS THROUGH THE WORLD; AFTER PAYING A VISIT TO MOUNT ETNA HE FINDS HIMSELF IN THE SOUTH SEA; VISITS VULCAN IN HIS PASSAGE ; GETS ON BOARD A DUTCHMAN ; ARRIVES AT AN IS- LAND OF CHEESE, SURROUNDED BY A SEA OF MILK ; DESCRIBES SOME VERY EXTRA- ORDINARY OBJECTS LOSE THEIR COMPASS ; THEIR SHIP SLIPS BETWEEN THE TEETH OF A FISH UNKNOWN IN THIS PART OF THE WORLD ; THEIR DIFFICULTY IN ESCAPING FROM THENCE ; ARRIVE IN THE CASPIAN SEA STARVES A BEAR TO DEATH A FEW WAISTCOAT ANECDOTES IN THIS CHAPTER, WHICH IS THE LONGEST, THE BARON MOB- ALIZES UPON THE VIRTUE OF VERACITY. MR. DRYBONES'S " Travels to Sicily," which I had read with great pleasure, in- duced me to pay a visit to Mount Etna ; my voyage to this place was not attended with any circumstances worth relating. One morning early, three or four days after my arrival, I set out from a cottaga where I had slept, within six miles of the foot of the mountain, determined to ex< 218 TRAVELS AND ADVENTURES OF BARON MUNCHAUSEN. plore the internal parts, if I perished in the attempt. After three hours' hard labor I found myself at the top ; it was then, and had been for upwards of three weeks, raging ; its appearance in this state has been so frequently noticed by different travellers, that I will not tire you with de- scriptions of objects you are already acquainted with. I walked round the edge of the crater, which appeared to be fifty times at least as capacious as the Devil's Punch-Bowl near Petersfield, on the Portsmouth road, but not so broad at the bottom, as in that part it resembles the contracted part of a funnel more than a punch-bowl. At last, having made up my mind, in I sprang feet foremost ; I soon found myself in a warm berth, and my body bruised and burnt in various parts by the red-hot cinders, which, by their violent ascent, opposed my descent ; however, my weight soon brought me to the bottom, where I found myself in the midst of noise and clamor, mixed with the most horrid imprecations ; after recover- ing my senses, and feeling a reduction of my pain, I began to look about me. Guess, gentlemen, my astonishment, when I found myself in the company of Vulcan and his Cyclops, who had been quarrel- ling, for the three weeks before mentioned, about the observation of good order and due subordination, and which had occa- sioned such alarms for that space of time in the world above. However, my arrival restored peace to the whole society, and Vulcan himself did me the honor of ap- plying plasters to my wounds, which healed them immediately ; he also placed refreshments before me, particularly nec- tar, and other rich wines, such as the gods and goddesses only aspire to. After this repast was over, Vulcan ordered Venus to show me every indulgence which my situation required. To describe the apart- ment, and the couch on which I reposed, is totally impossible, therefore I will not attempt it ; let it suffice to say, it exceeds the power of language to do it justice, or speak of that kind-hearted goddess in any terms equal to her merit. Vulcan gave me a very concise account of Mount Etna : he said it was nothing more than an accumulation of ashes thrown from the forge ; that he was fre- quently obliged to chastise his people, at whom, in his passion, he made it a prac- tice to throw red-hot coals at home, which they often parried with great dexterity, and then threw them up into the world to place them out of his reach, for they never attempted to assault him in return by throwing them back again. "Our quarrels," added he, " last sometimes three or four months, and these appearances of coals or cinders in the world are what I find you mortals call eruptions." Mount Vesuvius, he assured me, was another of his shops, to which he had a passage three hundred and fifty leagues under the bed of the sea, where similar quarrels pro- duced similar eruptions. I should have continued here as an humble attendant upon Madam Venus, but some busy tat- tlers, who delight in mischief, whispered a tale in Vulcan's ear, which roused in him a fit of jealousy not to be appeased. Without the least previous notice, he took me one morning under his arm, as I wa,s waiting upon Venus, agreeable to custom, and carried me to an apartment I had never before seen, in which there was, to all appearance, a well with a wide mouth : over this he held me at arm's length, and saying, " Ungrateful mortal, return to the world from whence you came" without giving me the least opportunity of reply, dropped me in the centre. I found myself descending with an increasing rapidity, till the horror of my mind deprived me of all reflection. I suppose I fell into a trance, from which I was suddenly roused by plunging into a large body of water illuminated by the rays of the sun ! I I could, from my infancy, swim well, and play tricks in the water. I now found myself in paradise, considering the hor- rors of mind I had just been released from. After looking about me some time, I could discover nothing but an expanse of sea, extending beyond the eye in every direction : I also found it very cold, a dif- ferent climate from Master Vulcan's shop. At last I observed at some distance a body of amazing magnitude, like a huge rock, approaching me ; 1 soon discovered it to be a piece of floating ice ; I swam round it till I found a place where I could ascend to the top, which I did, but not without some difficulty. Still I was out of sight of land, and despair returned with double force ; however, before night came on I saw a sail, which we approached very fast ; when it was within a very small distance I hailed them in German ; they answered in Dutch. I then flung myself TRAVELS AND ADVENTURES OF BARON MUNCHAUSEN. 219 into the sea, and they threw out a rope, by which I was taken on board, I now inquired where we were, and was informed, in the great Southern Ocean ; this opened a discovery which removed all my doubts and difficulties. It was now evident that I had passed from Mount Etna through the centre of the earth to the South Seas : this, gentlemen, was a much shorter cut than going round the world, and which no man has accomplished, or ever attempted, but myself: however, the next time I per- form it I will be much more particular in my observations. I took some refreshment, and went to rest. The Dutch are a very rude sort of people ; I related the Etna passage to the officers, exactly as I have done to you, and some of them, particularly the Cap- tain, seemed by his grimace and half- sentences to doubt my veracity ; however, as he had kindly taken me on board his vessel, and was then in the very act of administering to my necessities, I pocketed the affront. I now in my turn began to inquire where they were bound ? To which they answered they were in search of new dis- coveries, " and if" said they, " your story is true a new passage is really discovered, and we shall not return disappointed" We were now exactly in Captain Cook's first track, and arrived the next morning in Botany Bay. This place I would by no means recommend to the English govern- ment as a receptacle for felons, or place of punishment; it should rather be the reward of merit, nature having most bountifully bestowed her best gifts upon it. We staid here but three days ; the fourth after our departure a most dread- ful storm arose, which in a few hours de- stroyed all our sails, splintered our bow- sprit, and brought down our topmast ; it fell directly upon the box that inclosed onr compass, which, with the compass, was broken to pieces. Every one who has been at sea knows the consequences of such a misfortune : we now were at a loss where to steer. At length the storm abated, which was followed by a steady, brisk gale, that carried us at least forty knots an hour for six months ! [we should suppose the Baron has made a little mis- take, and substituted months for days] when we began to observe an amazing change in everything about us : our spirits became light, our noses were regaled with the most aromatic effluvia imaginable: the sea had also changed its complexion, and from green became white 1 1 Soon after these wonderful alterations we saw land, and not at any great distance an in- let, which we sailed up near sixty leagues, and found it wide and deep, flowing with milk of the most delicious taste. Here we landed, and soon found it was an island consisting of one large cheese: we dis- covered this by one of the company faint- ing away as soon as we landed : this man always had an aversion to cheese ; when he recovered, he desired the cheese to be taken from under his feet : upon examina- tion we found him perfectly right, for the whole island, as before observed, was nothing but a cheese of immense magni- tude! Upon this the inhabitants, who are amazingly numerous, principally sus- tain themselves, and it grows every night in proportion as it is consumed in the day. Here seemed to be plenty of vines, with bunches of large grapes, which, upon be- ing pressed, yielded nothing but milk. We saw the inhabitants running races upon the surface of the milk : they were upright, comely figures, nine feet high, have three legs, and but one arm ; upon the whole, their form was graceful, and when they quarrel, they exercise a straight horn, which grows in adults from the cen- tre of their foreheads, with great adroit- ness ; they did not sink at all, but ran and walked upon the surface of the milk, as we do upon a bowling-green. Upon this island of cheese grows great plenty of corn, the ears of which produce loaves of bread, ready made, of a round form like mushrooms. We discovered, in our rambles over this cheese, seventeen other rivers of milk, and ten of wine. After thirty-eight days' journey we ar- rived on the opposite side to that on which we landed : here we found some blue mold, as cheese-eaters call it, from whence springs all kinds of rich fruit ; in- stead of breeding mites it produced peaches, nectarines, apricots, and a thousand deli- cious fruits which we are not acquainted with. In these trees, which are of an amazing size, were plenty of birds' nests ; amongst others was a kingfisher's of pro- digious magnitude ; it was at least twice the circumference of the dome of St Paul's Church in London. Upon inspection, this nest was made of huge trees curiously 220 TRAVELS AND ADVENTURES OF BAIIOX MUNCHAUSEN. joined together ; there were, let me see (for I make it a rule always to speak within compass), there were upwards of five hun- dred eggs in this nest, and each of them wa^ as large as four common hogsheads, or eight barrels, and we could not only see, but hear the young ones chirping within. Having, with great fatigue, cut open one of these eggs, we let out a young one unfeathered, considerably larger than twenty full grown vultures. Just as we had given this youngster his liberty, the old kingfisher lighted, and seizing our captain, who had been active in breaking the egg, in one of her claws, flew with him above a mile high, and then let him drop into the sea, but not till she had beaten all his teeth out of his mouth with her wings. Dutchmen generally swim well: he soon joined us, and we retreated to our ship. On our return we took a different route, and observed many strange objects. We shot two wild oxen, each with one horn, also like the inhabitants, except that it sprouted from between the eyes of these animals; we were afterwards concerned at having destroyed them, as we found by inquiry, they tamed these creatures, and used them as we do horses, to ride upon and draw their carriages ; their flesh, we were informed, is excellent, but useless where people live upon cheese and milk. When we had reached within two days' journey of the ship, we observed three men hanging to a tall tree by their heels: upon inquiring the cause of their punish- ment, I found they had all been travellers, and upon their return home had deceived their friends by describing places they never saw, and relating things that never happened : this gave me no concern, as I have ever confined myself to facts. As soon as we arrived at the ship we unmoored, and set sail from this extraor- dinary country, when, to our astonish- ment, all the trees upon shore, of which there were a great number very tall and large, paid their respects to us twice, bowing to exact time, and immediately recovered their former posture, which was quite erect. By what we could learn of this CHEESE, it was considerably larger than the con- tinent of all Europe ! After sailing three months we knew not where, being still without compass, we arrived in a sea which appeared to be al- most black ; upon tasting it we found it most excellent wine, and had great diffi- culty to keep the sailors from getting drunk with it : however, in a few hours we found ourselves surrounded by whales and other animals of an immense magni- tude, one of which appeared to be too large for the eye to form a judgment of; we did not see him till we were close to him,, This monster drew our ship, with all her masts standing and sails bent, by suction into his mouth, between his teeth, which were much larger and taller than the mast of a first-rate man-of-war. After we had been in his mouth some time he opened it pretty wide, took in an immense quantity of water, and floated our vessel, which was at least 500 tons burthen, into his stomach ; here we lay as quiet as at anchor in a dead calm. The air, to be sure, was rather warm, and very offensive. We found anchors, cables, boats, and barges in abundance, and a considerable number of ships, some laden and some not, which this creature had swallowed. Everything was transacted by torchlight ; no sun, no moon, no planet, to make ob- servations from. We were all generally afloat and aground twice a day ; when- ever he drank it became high water with us ; and when he evacuated, we found ourselves aground ; upon a moderate computation, he took in more water at a single draught than is generally to be found in the Lake of Geneva, though that is above thirty miles in circumference. On the second day of our confinement in these regions of darkness I ventured at low water, as we called it when the ship was aground, to ramble with the captain and a few of the other officers, with lights in our hands ; we met with people of all nations, to the amount of upwards of ten thousand ; they were going to hold a coun- cil how to recover their liberty ; some of them had lived in this animal's stomach several years ; there were several children here who had never seen the world, their mothers having lain-in repeatedly in this warm situation. Just as the chairman was going to inform us of the business upon which we were assembled, this plaguy fish, becoming thirsty, drank in his usual manner; the water poured in with euch impetuosity that we were all obliged to retreat to our respective ships imme- diately, or run the risk of being drowned; some were obliged to swim for it, and with TRAVELS AND ADVENTURES OF BARON MUNCHAUSEN. difficulty saved their lives. In a few hours after we were more fortunate; we met again just after the monster had evacu- ated. I was chosen chairman, and the first thing I did was to propose splicing two main-masts together, and the next time he opened his mouth to be ready to wedge them in, so as to prevent his shut- ting it. It was unanimously approved. One hundred stout men were chosen upon this service. We had scarcely got our masts properly prepared when an oppor- tunity offered ; the monster opened his mouth, immediately the top of the mast was placed against the roof, and the other end pierced his tongue, which effectually prevented him from shutting his mouth. As soon as everything in his stomach was afloat, we manned a few boats, who rowed themselves and us into the world. The daylight, after, as near as we could judge, three months' confinement in total dark- ness, cheered our spirits surprisingly. When we had all taken our leave of this capacious animal, we mustered just a fleet of ninety-five ships, of all nations, who had been in this confined situation. We left the two masts in his mouth, to prevent others being confined in the same horrid gulf of darkness and filth. Our first object was to learn what part of the world we were in ; this we were for some time at a loss to ascertain ; at last I found from former observations, that we were in the Caspian Sea ! which washes part of the country of the Calmuck Tar- tars. How we came here it was impossi- ble to conceive, as this sea has no com- munication with any other. One of the inhabitants of the Cheese Island, whom I had brought with me, accounted for it thus : that the monster in whose stomach we had been so long confined bad carried us here through some subterraneous pas- sage ; however, we pushed to shore, and I was the first who landed. Just as I put my foot upon the ground, a large bear leaped upon me with his fore-paws; I caught one in each hand and squeezed him till he cried out most lustily ; how- ever, in this position I held him till I starved him to death. You may laugh, gentlemen, but this was soon accomplish- ed, as I prevented him licking his paws. From hence I travelled up to St. Peters- burg a second time : here an old friend gave me a most excellent pointer, de- scended from the famous bitch before mentioned, that littered while she was hunting a hare. I had the misfortune to have him shot soon after, by a blundering sportsman, who fired at him instead of a covey of partridges which he had just set. Of this creature's skin I have had this waistcoat made (showing his waistcoat), which always leads me involuntarily to game if I walk in the fields in the proper ! season, and when I come within shot, one I of the buttons constantly flies off and lodges j upon the spot where the sport is ; and as I the birds rise, being always primed and cocked, I never miss them. Here are now but three buttons left. I shall have a new set sewed on against the shooting season commences. When a covey of partridges is disturbed in this manner, by the button falling amongst them, they always rise from the f round in a direct line before each other. , one day, by forgetting to take my ram- rod out of my gun, shot it straight through a leash, as regularly as if the cook had spitted them. I had forgot to put in any shot, and the rod had been made so hot with the powder, that the birds were com- pletely roasted by the time I reached home. Since my arrival in England I have accomplished what I had very much at heart, viz., providing for the inhabitant of the Cheese Island, whom I had brought with me. My old friend, Sir William Chambers, who is entirely indebted to me for all his ideas of Chinese gardening, by a description of which he has gained such high reputation ; I say, gentlemen, in a discourse which I had with this gentle- man, he seemed much distressed for a contrivance to light the lamps at the new buildings, Somerset House ; the common mode with ladders, he observed, was both dirty and inconvenient. My native of the Cheese Island popped into my head ; he was only nine feet high when I first brought him from his own country, but was now increased to ten and a half: I in- troduced him to Sir William, and he is appointed to that honorable office. He is also to carry, under a large cloak, a uten- sil in each coat pocket, instead of those four which Sir William has very properly fixed for private purposes in so conspic- uous a situation in the great quadrangle. He has obtained from Mr. Pitt the situation of messenger to his Majesty's lords of the bedchamber, whose principal TRAVELS AND ADVENTURES OF BARON MUNCHAUSEN. employment will now be, divulging the secrets of the royal household to their wor- thy Patron. SUPPLEMENT. EXTRAORDINARY FLIGHT ON THE BACK OF AN EAGLE, OVER FRANCE TO GIBRALTAR, SOUTH AND NORTH AMERICA, THE POLAR REGIONS, AND BACK TO ENGLAND, WITHIN SIX-AND-THIRTY HOURS. ABOUT the beginning of his present Majesty's reign I had some business with a distant relation who then lived on the Isle of Thanet ; it was a family dispute, and not likely to be finished soon. I made it a practice during my residence there, the weather being fine, to walk out every morning. After a few of these excursions I observed an object upon a great emi- nence about three miles distant. I extended my walk to it, and found the ruins of an ancient temple : I approached it with ad- miration and astonishment ; the traces of grandeur and magnificence which yet re- mained were evident proofs of its former splendor : here I could not help lament- ing the ravages and devastations of time, of which that once noble structure ex- hibited such a melancholy proof. I walked round it several times, meditating on the fleeting and transitory nature of all terres- trial things ; on the eastern end were the remains of a lofty tower, near forty feet high, overgrown with ivy, the top appa- rently flat ; I surveyed it on every side very minutely, thinking that if I could gain its summit I should enjoy the most delightful prospect of the circumjacent country. Animated with this hope, I re- solved, if possible, to gain the summit, which I at length effected by means of the ivy, though not without great difficulty and danger ; the top I found covered with this evergreen, except a large chasm in the middle. After I had surveyed with pleasing wonder the beauties of art and nature that conspired to enrich the scene, curiosity prompted me to sound the open- ing in the middle, in order to ascertain its depth, as I entertained a suspicion that it might probably communicate with some unexplored subterranean cavern in the hill ; but having no line I was at a loss how to proceed. After revolving the mat- ter in my thoughts for some time, I re- solved to drop a stone down and listen to the echo : having found one that answered my purpose, I placed myself over the hole, with one foot on each side, and stoop- ing down to listen, I dropped the stone, which I had no sooner done than I heard a rustling below, and suddenly a mon- strous eagle put up its head right opposite my face, and rising up with irresistible force, carried me away seated on its shoul- ders : I instantly grasped it around the neck, which was large enough to fill my arms, and its wings, when extended, were ten yards from one extremity to the other. As it rose with a regular ascent, my seat was perfectly easy, and I enjoyed the prospect below with inexpressible pleas- ure. It hovered over Margate for some time, was seen by several people, and many shots were fired at it ; one ball hit the heel of my shoe, but did me no injury. It then directed its course to Dover cliff, where it alighted, and I thought of dis- mounting, but was prevented by a sudden discharge of musketry from a party of marines that were exercising on the beach; the balls flew about my head, and rattled on the feathers of the eagle like hail- stones, yet I could not perceive it had re- ceived any injury. It instantly reascended and flew over the sea towards Calais, but so very high that the Channel seemed to be no broader than the Thames at London Bridge. In a quarter of an hour I found myself over a thick wood in France, where the eagle descended very rapidly, which caused me to slip down to the back part of its head ; but alighting on a large tree, and raising its head, I recovered my seat as before, but saw no possibility of disen- f aging myself without the danger of being illed by the fall ; so I determined to sit fast, thinking it would carry me to the Alps, or some other high mountain, where I could dismount without any danger. Af- ter resting a few minutes it took wing, flew several times round the wood, and scream- ed loud enough to be heard across the English Channel. In a few minutes one of the same species arose out of the wood, and flew directly towards us ; it surveyed me with evident marks of displeasure, and came very near me. After flying several times round, they both directed their course to the southwest. I soon ob- served that the one I rode upon could not keep pace with the other, but inclined to- TRAVELS AND ADVENTURES OF BARON MUNCHAUSEN. 225 wards the earth, on account of ray weight ; its companion perceiving this, turned round and placed itself in such a position that the other could rest its head on its rump ; in this manner they proceeded till noon, when I saw the rock of Gibraltar very distinctly. The day being clear, notwithstanding my degree of elevation, the earth's surface appeared just like a map, where land, sea, lakes, rivers, moun- tains, and the like were perfectly distin- guishable; and having some knowledge of geography, I was at no loss to deter- mine what part of the globe I was in. Whilst I was contemplating this wonder- ful prospect, a dreadful howling suddenly began all around me, and in a moment I was invested by thousands of small black, deformed, frightful looking crea- tures who pressed me on all sides in such a manner that I could neither move hand or foot: but I had not been in their possession more than ten minutes when I heard the most delightful music that can possibly be imagined, which was suddenly changed into a noise the most awful and tremendous, to which the report of cannon or the loudest claps of thunder could bear no more proportion than the gentle ze- phyrs of the evening to the most dreadful hurricane; but the shortness of its dura- tion prevented all those fatal effects which a prolongation of it would certainly have been attended with. The music commenced, and I saw a great number of the most beautiful little creatures seize the other party, and throw them with great violence into something like a snuff-box, which they shut down, and one threw it away with incredible velocity ; then turning to me, he said they whom he had secured were a party of devils, who had wandered from their pro- per habitation ; and that the vehicle in which they were enclosed would fly with unabating rapidity for ten thousand years, when it would burst of its own accord, and the devils would recover their liberty and faculties, as at the present moment. He had no sooner finished this relation than the music ceased, and they all dis- appeared, leaving me in a state of mind bordering on the confines of despair. When I had recomposed myself a little, and looking before me with inexpressible pleasure, I observed that the eagles were preparing to light on the peak of Tene- riffe : they descended to the top of a rock, but seeing no possible means of escape if I dismounted determined me to remain where I was. The eagles sat down seem- ingly fatigued, when the heat of the sun soon caused them both to fall aaleep, nor did I long resist its fascinating power. In the cool of the evening, whea the sun retired below the horizon, I was roused from sleep by the eagle moving under me ; and having stretched myself along its back, I sat up, and resumed my travelling position, when they both took wing, and having placed themselves as before, directed their course for South America. The moon shining bright during the whole night, I had a fine view of all the islands in those seas. About the break of day we reached the great continent of America, that part called Terra Firma, and descended on the top of a very high mountain. At this time the moon, far distant in the west, and obscured by dark clouds, but just afforded light sufficient for me to discover a kind of shrubbery all around, bearing fruit something like cabbages, which the eagles began to feed on very eagerly. I endeavored to discover my situation, but fogs and passing clouds involved me in thickest darkness, and what rendered the scene still more shocking was the tre- mendous howling of wild beasts, some of which appeared to be very near : how- ever, I determined to keep my seat, ima- gining that the eagle would carry me away if any of them should make a hostile attempt. When daylight began to appear I thought of examining the fruit which I had seen the eagles eat, and as some was hanging which 1 could easily come at, I took out my knife and cut a slice ; but how great was my surprise to see that it had all the appearance of roast beef re- gularly mixed, both fat and lean ! I tasted it, found it well flavored and delicious, then cut several large slices and put in my pocket, where I found a crust of bread which I had brought from Margate ; took it out, and found three musket- balls that had been lodged in it on Dover cliff. I extracted them, and cutting a few slices more, made a hearty meal of bread and cold beef fruit. I then cut down two of the largest that grew near me, and tying them together with one of my garters, hung them over the eagle's neck for an- other occasion, filling my pockets at the same time. While I was settling these 224 TRAVELS AND ADVENTURES OF BARON MUNCHAUSEN. affairs I observed a large fruit like an in- flated bladder, which I wished to try an experiment upon : and striking my knife into one of them, a fine pure liquor like Hollands gin rushed out, which the eagles observing, eagerly drank up from the ground. I cut down the bladder as fast as I could, and saved about half a pint in the bottom of it, which I tasted, and could not distinguish it from the best mountain wine. I drank it all, and found myself greatly refreshed. By this time the eagles began to stagger against the shrubs. I endeavored to keep my seat, but was soon thrown to some distance among the bushes. In attempting to rise I put my hand upon a large hedgehog, which happened to lie among the grass upou its back : it in- stantly closed round my hand, so that I found it impossible to shake it off. I struck it several times against the ground without effect ; but while I was thus em- ployed I heard a rustling among the shrubbery, and looking up, I saw a huge animal within three yards of me; I could make no defense, but held out both my hands, when it rushed upon me, and seized that on which the hedgehog was fixed. My hand being soon relieved, I ran to some distance, where I saw the creature suddenly drop down and expire with the hedgehog in its throat. When the danger was past I went to view the eagles, and found them lying on the grass fast asleep, being intoxicated with the liquor they had drank. Indeed, I found myself considerably elevated by it, and seeing everything quiet, I began to search for some more, which I soon found ; and having cut down two large bladders, about a gallon each, I tied them together, and hung them over the neck of the other eagle, and the two smaller ones I tied with a cord round my own waist. Having secured a good stock of provisions, and perceiving the eagles begin to recover, I again took my seat. In half an hour they arose majestically from the place, without taking the least notice of their encum- brance. Each reassumed its former station ; and directing their course to the northward, they crossed the Gulf of Mexico, entered North America, and steered directly for the Polar regions, which gave me the finest opportunity of viewing the vast continent that can pos- sibly be imagined. Before we entered the frigid zone the cold began to affect me ; but piercing one of my bladders, I took a draught, and found that it could make no impression on me afterwards. Passing over Hudson's Bay, I saw several of the company's ships lying at anchor, and many tribes of In- dians marching with their furs to market. By this time I was so reconciled to my seat, and become such an expert rider, that I could sit up and look around me ; but in general I lay along the eagle's neck, grasping it in my arms, with my hands immersed in its feathers, in order to keep them warm. In these cold climates I observed that the eagles flew with greater rapidity, in order, I suppose, to keep their blood in circulation. In passing Baffin's Bay I saw several large Greenlandmen to the eastward, and many surprising mountains of ice in those seas. While I was surveying these wonders of nature it occurred to me that this was a good opportunity to discover the north- west passage, if any such thing existed, and not only obtain the reward offered by government, but the honor of a discovery pregnant with so many advantages to every European nation. But while my thoughts were absorbed in this pleasing reverie, I was alarmed by the first eagle striking its head against a solid trans- parent substance, and in a moment that which I rode experienced the same fate, and both fell down seemingly dead. Here our lives must inevitably have terminated, had not a sense of danger and the singularity of my situation inspired me with a degree of skill and dexterity which enabled us to fall two miles per- pendicular with as little inconveniency as if we had been let down with a rope ; for no sooner did I perceive the eagles strike against a frozen cloud, which is very com- mon near the poles, than (they being close together) I laid myself along the back of the foremost and took hold of its wings to keep them extended, at the same time stretching out my legs behind to support the wings of the other. This had the de- sired effect, and we descended very safe on a mountain of ice, which I supposed to be about three miles above the level of the sea. I dismounted, unloaded the eagles, opened one of the bladders and admin- istered some of the liquor to each of them, without once considering that the horrors TRAVELS AND ADVENTURES OF BARON MUNCH AUSEN. 225 or destruction seemed to have conspired against me. The roaring of waves, crash- ing of ice, and the howling of bears, con- spired to form a scene the most awful and tremendous ; but, notwithstanding this, my concern for the recovery of the eagles was so great, that I was insensible of the danger to which I was exposed. Having rendered them every assistance in my power, I stood over them in painful anxiety, fully sensible that it was only by means of them that I could possibly be delivered from these abodes of despair. But suddenly a monstrous bear began to roar behind me, with a voice like thunder. I turned round, and seeing the creature just ready to devour me, having the bladder of liquor in my hands, through fear I squeezed it so hard, that it burst, and the liquor flying in the eyes of the animal, totally deprived it of sight. It instantly turned from me, ran away in a state of distraction and soon fell over a precipice of ice into the sea, where I saw it no more. The danger being over, I again turned my attention to the eagles, whom I found in a fair way of recovery, and suspecting *hat they were faint for want of victuals, { took one of the beef fruit, cut it into small slices and presented them with it, which they devoured with avidity. Having given them plenty to eat and drink, and disposed of the remainder of my provision, I took possession of my seat as before. After composing myself, and adjusting everything in the best manner, I began to eat and drink very heartily ; and through the effects of the mountain wine, as I called it, was very cheerful, and began to sing a few verses of a song which I had learned when I was a boy : but the noise soon alarmed the eagles who had been asleep, through the quantity of liquor which they had drank, and they arose seemingly much terrified. Happily for me, however, when I was feeding them I had accidentally turned their heads towards the southeast, which course they pursued with a rapid motion. In a few hours I saw the Western Isles, and soon after had the inexpressible pleasure of seeing old England. I took no notice of the seas or islands over which I passed. The eagles descended gradually as they drew near the shore, intending, as I sup- posed, to alight on one of the Welsh VOL. u. w. H. mountains ; but when they came to the distance of about sixty yards two guns were fired at them, loaded with balls, one of which penetrated a bladder of liquor that hung to my waist ; the other entered the breast of the foremost eagle, who fell to the ground, while that which I rode, having received no injury, flew away with amazing swiftness. This circumstance alarmed me exceed- ingly, and I began to think it was im- possible for me to escape with my life ; but recovering a little, I once more looked down upon the earth, when, to my inex- pressible joy, I saw Margate at a little distance, and the eagle descending on the old tower whence it had carried me on the morning of the day before. It no sooner came down than I threw myself off, happy to find that I was once more restored to the world. The eagle flew away in a few minutes, and I sat down to compose my fluttering spirits, which I did in a few hours. I soon paid a visit to my friends, and related these adventures. Amazement stood in every countenance ; their con- gratulations on my returning in safety were repeated with an unaffected de- gree of pleasure, and we passed the even- ing as we are doing now, every person present paying the highest comphmenta to my COURAGE and VERACITY. CHAPTER XXI. THE BARON INSISTS ON THE VERACITY OP HIS FORMER MEMOIRS FORMS A DESIGN OF MAKING DISCOVERIES IN THE INTERIOR PARTS OF AFRICA HIS DISCOURSE WITH HILARO FROSTICOS ABOUT IT HIS CON- VERSATION WITH LADY FRAGRANTIA THE BARON GOES, WITH OTHER PERSONS OF DIS- TINCTION, TO COURT ; RELATES AN ANEC- DOTE OF THE MARQUIS DE BELLECOURT. ALL that I have related before, said the Baron, is gospel ; and if there be any one so hardy as to deny it, I am ready to fight him with any weapon he pleases. Yes, cried he, in a more elevated tone, as he started from his seat, I will condemn him to swallow this decanter, glass and all, perhaps, and filled with kerren-wasser [a kind of ardent spirit distilled from cherries, and much used in some parts of Germany]. Therefore, my dear friend* 15 226 TRAVELS AND ADVENTURES OF BARON MUNCHAUSEN. and companions, have confidence in what I say, and pay honor to the tales of Mun- chausen. A traveller has a right to relate and embellish his adventures as he pleases, and it is very impolite to refuse that de- ference and applause they deserve. Having passed some time in England since the completion of my former Me- moirs, I at length began to revolve in my mind what a prodigious field of discovery must be in the interior part of Africa. I could not sleep with the thoughts of it ; I therefore determined to gain every pro- per assistance from Government to pene- trate the celebrated source of the Nile and assume the viceroyship of the interior kingdoms of Africa, or, at least, the great realm of Monomotapa. It was happy for me that I had one most powerful friend at court, whom I shall call the illustrious Hilaro Frosticos. You perchance know him not by that name; but we had a language among ourselves, as well we may, for in the course of my peregrina- tions I have acquired precisely nine hundred and ninety-nine leash of lan- guages. What ! gentlemen, do you stare ? Well, I allow there are not so many languages spoken in this vile world ; but then, have I not been in the Moon? And, trust me, whenever I write a treatise upon education, I shall delineate methods of inculcating whole dozens of languages at once, French, Spanish, Greek, Hebrew, Cherokee, etc., in such a style as will shame all the pedagogues existing. Having passed a whole night without being able to sleep for the vivid imagina- tion of African discoveries, I hastened to the levee of my illustrious friend, Hilaro Frosticos, and having mentioned my in- tention with all the vigor of fancy, he gravely considered my words, and after some awful meditations, thus he spoke : Olough, ma genesat, istum fullanah, cum dera kargos belgarasah eseum balgo bartigos triangulissimus ! However, added he, it behooveth thee to consider and ponder well upon the perils and the multitudi- nous dangers in all the way of that wight who thus advanceth in all the perambu- lation of adventures ; and verily, most valiant sire and Baron, I hope thou wilt demean thyself with all ' that laudable gravity and precaution which, as is related in the three hundred and forty-seventh chapter of the Prophilactics, is of more consideration than all the merit in this terraqueous globe. Yes, most truly do I advise thee unto thy good, and speak un- to thee, most valiant Munchausen, with the greatest esteem, and wish thee to succeed in thy voyage : for it is said, that in the interior realms of Africa there are tribes that can see but just three inches and a half beyond the extremity of their noses; and verily thou shouldest moderate thyself, even sure and slow ; they stumble who walk fast. But we shall bring you unto the Lady Fragranlia, and have her opinion of the matter. He then took from his pocket a cap of dignity, such as is described in the most honorable and an- tique heraldry, and placing it upon my head, addressed me thus: "As thou seemest again to revive the spirit of an- cient adventure, permit me to place upon thy head this favor, as a mark of the esteem in which I hold thy valorous dis- position." The Lady Fragrantia, my dear friends, was one of the rnostdivine creatures in all Great Britain, and was desperately in love with me. She was drawing my portrait upon a piece of white satin, when the most noble Hilaro Frosticos advanced. He pointed to the cap of dignity which he had placed upon my head. " I do de- clare, Hilaro," said the lovely Fragrantia, " 't is pretty, 't is interesting ; I love you, and I like you, my dear baron," said she, putting on another plume : " this gives it an air more delicate and more fantastical. I do thus, my dear Munchausen, as your friend, yet you can reject or accept my present just as you please ; but I like the fancy, 't is a good one and I mean to im- prove it : and against whatever enemies you go, I shall have the sweet satisfaction to remember you bear my favor on your head !" I snatched it with trepidation, and gracefully dropping on my knees, I three times kissed it with all the rapture of romantic love. " I swear," cried I, "by thy bright eyes, and by the lovely white- ness of thine arm, that no savage, tyrant, or enemy on the face of the earth shall despoil me of this favor, while one drop of the blood of the Munchausens doth circu- late in my veins I I will bear it triumphant through the realms of Africa, whither I now intend my course, and make it re- spected, even in the court of Prester John." "I admire your spirit," replied she, TRAVELS AND ADVENTURES OF BARON MUNCHAUSEN. 227 " and shall use my utmost interest at court to have you dispatched with every pomp, and as soon as possible ; but here cornea a most brilliant company indeed : Lady Carolina Wilhelmina Amelia Skeggs, Lord Spigot and Lady Faucet and the Countess of Belleair." After the ceremonies of introduction to this company were over, we proceeded to consult upon the business ; and as the cause met with general applause, it was immediately determined that I should pro- ceed without delay, as soon as I obtained the sovereign approbation. " I am con- vinced," said Lord Spigot, " that if there be anything really unknown and worthy of our most ardent curiosity, it must be in the immense regions of Africa; that coun- try which seems to be the oldest on the globe, and yet with the greater part of which we are almost utterly unacquaint- ed ; what prodigious wealth of gold and diamonds must not lie concealed in those torrid regions where the very rivera on the coast pour forth continual specimens of golden sand ! 'T is my opinion, therefore, that the Baron deserves the applause of all Europe for his spirit, and merits the most powerful assistance of the sovereign." So nattering an approbation, you may be sure, was delightful to my heart, and with every confidence and joy I suffered them to take me to 'court that instant. After the usual ceremonies of introduc- tion, suffice it to say that I met with every honor and applause that my most san- guine expectations could demand. I had always a taste for the fashionable je ne sais quoi of the most elegant society, and in the presence of all the sovereigns of Europe I ever found myself quite at home, and experienced from the whole court the most flattering esteem and admiration. I remember, one particular day, the fate of the unfortunate Marquis de Bellecourt. The Countess of Rassinda, who accompa- nied him, looked most divinely. " Yes, I am confident," said the Marquis de Bellecourt to me, " that I have acted ac- cording to the strictest sentiments of jus- tice and of loyalty to my sovereign. What stronger breast-plate than a heart un- tainted ? and though I did not receive a word nor a look, yet I cannot think no, it were impossible to be misrepresented. Conscious of my own integrity, I will try again I will go boldly up." The Mar- quis de Bellecourt saw the opportunity ; he advanced three paces, put his hand upon his breast and bowed. " Permit me," said he, " with the moat profound respect to " His tongue faltered he could scarcely believe his sight, for at that moment the whole company were moving out of the room. He found him- self almost alone, deserted by every one. " What 1 " said he, " and did he turn upon his heel with the most marked contempt ? Would he not speak to me ? Would he not even hear me utter a word in my de- fense ?" His heart died within him not even a look, a smile from any one. " My friends ! Do they not know me ? Do they not see me ? Alas ! they fear to catch the contagion of my . Then," said he, " adieu I 'tis more than I can bear. I shall go to my country seat, and never, never will return. Adieu, fond court, adieu !" The venerable Marquis de Bellecourt stopped for a moment ere he entered his carriage. Thrice he looked back, and thrice he wiped the starting tear from his eye. " Yes," said he, " for once, at least, truth shall be found in the bottom of a well ! " Peace to thy ghost, most noble mar- quis ! a King of kings shall pity thee ; and thousands who are yet unborn shall owe their happiness to thee, and have cause to bless the thousands, perhaps, that shall never even know thy name; but Munchausen's self shall celebrate thy glory ! CHAPTER XXII. PREPARATIONS FOR THE BARON'S EXPEDI- TION INTO AFRICA DESCRIPTION OF HIS CHARIOT ; THE BEAUTIES OF ITS INTERIOR DECORATIONS J THE ANIMALS THAT DREW IT, AND THE MECHANISM OF THE WHEELS. EVERYTHING being concluded, and having received my instructions for the voyage, I was conducted by the illustrious Hilaro Frosticos, the Lady Fragrantia. and a prodigious crowd of nobility, and placed sitting upon the summit of the whale's bones at the palace ; and having remained in this situation for three days and three nights as a trial ordeal and a specimen of my perseverance and resolu- tion, the third hour after midnight they 228 TRAVELS AND ADVENTURES OF BARON MUNCHAUSEN. seated me in the chariot of Queen Mab. It was of a prodigious dimension, large enough to contain more stowage than the tun of Heidelberg, and globular, like a hazel-nut ; in fact, it seemed to be really a hazel-nut grown to a most extravagant di- mension, and that a great worm of pro- portionable enormity had bored a hole in the shell. Through this same entrance I was ushered. It was as large as a coach- door, and I took my seat in the centre, a kind of chair self-balanced without touch- ing anything, like the fancied tomb of Mahomet. The whole interior surface of the nut- shell appeared a luminous represent- ation of all the stars of heaven, the fixed stars, the planets, and a comet. The stars were as large as those worn by our first nobility, and the comet, excessively brilliant, seemed as if you had assembled all the eyes of the beautiful girls in the kingdom, and combined them like a pea- cock's plumage, into the form of a comet that is, a globe and a bearded tail to it, diminishing gradually to a point. This beautiful constellation seemed very spor- tive and delightful. It was much in the form of a tadpole ! and, without ceasing, went, full of playful giddiness, up and down all over the heaven on the concave surface of the nutshell. One time it would be at that part of the heavens under my feet, and in the next minute would be over my head. It was never at rest, but forever going east, west, north, or south, and paid no more respect to the different worlds than if they were so many lanterns with- out reflectors. Some of them he would dash against and push out of their places ; others he would burn up and consume to ashes ; and others again he would split into fritters, and their fragments would instantly take a globular form, like spilled quicksilver, and become satellites to what- ever other worlds they should happen to meet with in their career. In short, the whole seemed an epitome of the creation, past, present, and future ; and all that passes among the stars during one thousand years was here generally performed in as many seconds. I surveyed all the beauties of the cha- riot with wonder and delight. " Certain- ly," cried I, " this is heaven in miniature !" In short, I took the reins in my hand. But before I proceed on my adventures, ~ shall mention the rest of my attendant furniture. The chariot was drawn by a team of nine bulls harnessed to it, three after three. In the first rank was a most tremendous bull named John Mowmow* sky ; the rest were called Jacks in general, but not dignified by any particular deno- mination. They were all shod for the journey, not indeed like horses, with iron, or as bullocks commonly are, to drag on a cart ; but were shod with men's skulls. Each of their feet was, hoof and all, crammed into a man's head, cut off" for the purpose, and fastened therein with a kind of cement or paste, so that the skull seemed to be a part of the foot and hoof of the animal. With these skull-shoes the creatures could perform astonishing journeys, and slide upon the water, or upon the ocean, with great velocity. The harnesses were fastened with golden buckles, and decked with studs in a su- perb style, and the creatures were ridden by nine postilions, crickets of a great size, as large as monkeys, who sat squat upon the heads of the bulls, and were continually chirping at a most infer- nal rate, loud in proportion to their bodies. The wheels of the chariot consisted of upwards of ten thousand springs, formed so as to give the greater impetuosity to the vehicle, and were more complex than a dozen clocks like that of Strasburg. The external of the chariot was adorned with banners, and a superb festoon of laurel that formerly shaded me on horseback. And now, having given you a very concise description of my machine for travelling into Africa, which you must allow to be far superior to the apparatus of Monsieur Vaillant, I shall proceed to relate the ex- ploits of my voyage. CHAPTER XXIII. THE BARON PROCEEDS ON HIS VOYAGB-~ CONVOYS A SQUADRON TO GIBRALTAR- DECLINES THE ACCEPTANCE OF THE ISLAND OF CANDIA HIS CHARIOT DAMAGED BY POMPEY'S PILLAR AND CLEOPATRA'S NEE- DLE THE BARON OUTDOES ALEXANDER BREAKS HIS CHARIOT, AND SPLITS A GREAT ROCK AT THE CAPE OF GOOD HOPE. TAKING the reins in my hand, while the music gave a general salute, I cracked my whip, away they went, and in three houra TRAVELS AND ADVENTURES OF BARON MUNCHAUSEN. 229 I found myself just between the Isle of Wight and the main land of England. Here I remained four days, until I had received part of my accompaniment, which I was ordered to take under my convoy. 'T was a squadron of men-of-war that had been a long time prepared for the Baltic, but which were now destined for the Med- iterranean. By the assistance of large hooks and eyes, exactly such as are worn in our hats, but of a greater size, some hun- dred weight each, the men-of-war hooked themselves on to the wheels of the vehicle : and, in fact, nothing could be more simple or convenient, because they could be hooked or unhooked in an in- stant with the utmost facility. In short, having given a general discharge of their artillery, and three cheers, I cracked my whip, away we went, helter skelter, and in six jiffies I found myself and all my retinue safe and in good spirits just at the Rock of Gibraltar. Here I unhooked my squadron, and having taken an affectionate leave of the officers, I suffered them to proceed in their ordinary manner to the place of their destination. The whole gar- rison were highly delighted with the novelty of my vehicle ; and at the pressing solicitations of the governor and officers I went ashore and took a view of that bar- ren old rock, about which more powder has been fired away than would purchase twice as much fertile ground in any part of the world I Mounting my chariot, I took the reins, and again made forward, in mad career, down the Mediterranean to the Isle of Candia. Here I received dispatches from the Sublime Porte, en- treating me to assist in the war against Russia, with a reward of the whole Island of Candia for my alliance. At first I hesitated, thinking that the island of Can- dia would be a more valuable acquisition to the sovereign who at that time em- ployed me, and that the most delicious wines, sugar, etc., in abundance would flourish on the island ; yet, when I con- sidered the trade of the East India Com- pany, which would most probably suffer by the intercourse with Persia through the Mediterranean, I at once rejected the proposal, and had afterwards the thanks of the Honorable the House of Commons for my propriety and political discern- ment Having been properly refreshed at Can dia, I again proceeded, and in a short time arrived in the land of Egypt. The land of this country, at least that part of it near the sea, is very low, so that I came upon it ere I was aware, and the Pillar of Pompey got entangled in the various wheels of the machine, and damaged the whole considerably. Still I drove ou through thick and thin, till, passing over that great obelisk, the Needle of Cleopa- tra, the work got entangled again, and jolted at a miserable rate over the mud and swampy ground of all that country ; yet my poor bulls trotted on with aston- ishing labor across the Isthmus of Suez into the Red Sea, and left a track, an ob- scure channel, which has since been taken by De Tott for the remains of a canal cut by some of the Ptolemies from the Red Sea to the Mediterranean; but, as you perceive, was in reality no more than the track of my chariot, the car of Queea Mab. As the artists at present in that coun- try are nothing wonderful, though the ancient Egyptians, 't is said, were most astonishing fellows, I could not procure any new coach-springs, or have a possi- bility of setting my machine to rights in the kingdom of Egypt ; and as I could not presume to attempt another journey overland, and the great mountains of marble beyond the source of the Nile, I thought it most eligible to make the beat way I could, by sea, to the Cape of Good Hope, where I supposed I should get some Dutch smiths and carpenters, or perhaps some English artists ; and my vehicle be- ing properly repaired, it was my intention thence to proceed, overland, through the heart of Africa. The surface of the water, 1 well knew, afforded less resistance to the wheels of the machine it passed along the waves like the chariot of Neptune ; and, in short, having gotten upon the Red Sea, we scudded away to admiration through the pass of Bab el Mandeb to the great Western Coast of Africa, where Alexander had not the courage to ven- ture. And really, my friends, if Alexander had ventured toward the Cape of Good Hope, he most probably would have never returned. It is difficult to determine whether there were then any inhabitants in the more southern parts of Africa or 230 TRAVELS AND ADVENTURES OF BARON MUNCHAUSEN. not; yet, at any rate, this conqueror of the world would have made but a non- sensical adventure ; his miserable ships, not contrived for a long voyage, would have become leaky, and foundered, before he could have doubled the Cape, and left his Majesty fairly beyond the limits of the then known world. Yet it would have been an august exit for an Alexander, af- ter having subdued Persia and India, to be wandering, the Lord knows where, to Jup or Aminon, perhaps, or on a voyage to the Moon, as an Indian chief once said to Captain Cook. But, for my part, I was far more suc- cessful than Alexander ; I drove on with the most amazing rapidity, and thinking to halt on shore at the Cape, I unfortu- nately drove too close, and shattered the right side wheels of my vehicle against the rock, now called the Table Mountain. The machine went against it with such impetuosity as completely shivered the rock in a horizontal direction ; so that the summit of the mountain, in the form of a eemisphere, was knocked into the sea, and the steep mountain becoming there- by flattened at the top, has since re- ceived the name of the Table Mountain, from its similarity to that piece of furni- ture. Just as this part of the mountain was knocked off, the ghost of the Cape, that tremendous sprite which cuts such a figure in the Lusiad, was discovered sit- ting squat in an excavation formed for him in the centre of the mountain. He seemed just like a young bee in his little cell before he comes forth, or like a bean in a bean-pod ; and when the upper part of the mountain was split across and knocked off, the superior half of his person was discovered. He appeared of a bottle- blue color, and started, dazzled with the unexpected glare of the light ; hearing the dreadful rattle of the wheels, and the Loud chirping of the crickets, he was thunderstruck, and instantly giving a shriek, sunk down ten thousand fa- thoms into the earth, while the moun- tain, vomiting out some smoke, silent- ly closed up, and left not a trace be- hind I CHAPTER XXIV. THE BARON SECURES HIS CHARIOT, ETC., AT THE CAPE AND TAKES HIS PASSAGE FOR ENGLAND IN A HOMEWARD BOUND INDIA- MANWRECKED UPON AN ISLAND OF ICE, NEAR THE COAST OF GUINEA ESCAPES FROM THE WRECK AND REARS A VARIETY OF VEGETABLES UPON THE ISLAND MEETS SOME VESSELS BELONGING TO THE NEGROES BRINGING WHITE SLAVES FROM EUROPE, IN RETALIATION, TO WORK UPON THEIR PLANTATIONS IN A COLD CLIMATE NEAR THE SOUTH POLE ARRIVES IN ENGLAND AND LAYS AN ACCOUNT OF HIS EXPEDITION BEFORE THE PRIVY COUNCIL GREAT PRE- PARATIONS FOR A NEW EXPEDITION THE SPHINX, GOG AND MAGOG, AND A GREAT COMPANY ATTEND HIM THE IDEAS OF HILARO FROSTICOS RESPECTING THE IN- TERIOR PARTS OF AFRICA DESCRIBED. I PERCEIVED with grief and consterna- tion the miscarriage of all my apparatus ; yet I was not absolutely dejected ; a great mind is never known but in adversity. With permission of the Dutch governor the chariot was properly laid up in a great storehouse erected at the water's edge, and the bulls received every refreshment possible after so terrible a voyage. Well, you may be sure they deserved it, and therefore every attendance was engaged for them, until I should return. As it was not possible to do anything more I took my passage in a homeward- bound Indiaman, to return to London, and lay the matter before the Privy Council. We met with nothing particular until we arrived upon the coast of Guinea, where, to our utter astonishment, we per- ceived a great hill, seemingly of glass, advancing against us in the open sea ; the rays of the sun were reflected upon it with such splendor that it was extremely diffi- cult to gaze at the phenomenon. I im- mediately knew it to be an island of ice, and though in so very warm a latitude, determined to make all possible sail from such horrible danger. We did so, but all in vain, for about eleven o'clock at night, blowing a very hard gale, and exceed- ingly dark, we struck upon the island. Nothing could equal, the distraction, the shrieks and despair of the whole crew, until I, knowing there was not a moment to be lost, cheered up their spirits, and bade them not despond, but do as I should request them. In a few minutes the vessel was half full of water, and the enormous castle of ice that seemed to hem us in on TRAVELS AND ADVENTURES OF BARON MUNCHAUSEN. 231 every side, in some places falling in hide- ous fragments upon the deck, killed the one-half of the crew; upon which, getting upon the summit of the mast, I contrived to make it fast to a great promontory of the ice, and calling to the remainder of the crew to follow me, we all escaped from the wreck, and got upon the summit of the island. The rising sun soon gave us a dreadful prospect of our situation, and the loss, or rather icefication, of the vessel ; for being closed in on every side with castles of ice during the night, she was absolutely frozen over and buried in such a manner that we could behold her under our feet, even in the central solidity of the island. Having debated what was best to be done, we immediately cut down through the ice, and got up some of the cables of the vessel, and the boats, which, making fast to the island, we towed it with all our might, determined to bring home island and all, or perish in the attempt. On the summit of the island we placed what oakum and dregs of every kind of matter we could get from the vessel, which, in the space of a very few hours, on account of the lique- fying of the ice, and the warmth of the sun, were transformed into a very fine manure ; and as I had some seeds of exotic vegetables in my pocket, we shortly had a sufficiency of fruits and roots grow- ing upon the island to supply the whole crew, especially the bread fruit tree, a few plants of which had been in the vessel ; and another tree, which bore plum-pud- dings so very hot, and with such exquisite proportion of sugar, fruit, etc., that we all acknowledged it was not possible to taste anything of the kind more delicious in England : in short, though the scurvy had made such dreadful progress among the crew, before our striking upon the ice, the supply of vegetables, and especially the bread-fruit and pudding fruit, put an al- most immediate stop to the distemper. We had not proceeded thus many weeks, advancing with incredible fatigue by con- tinual towing, when we fell in with a fleet of Negromen, as they call them. These wretches, I must inform you, my dear friends, had found means to make prizes of those vessels from some Europeans upon the coast of Guinea, and tasting the sweets of luxury, had formed colonies in geveral new discovered islands near the south JHHC, where they had a variety of plan- tations of such matters as would only grow in the coldest climate. As the black inhabitants of Guinea were unsuited to the climate and excessive cold of the country, they formed the diabolical pro- ject of getting Christian slaves to work for them. For this purpose they sent vessels every year to the coast of Scotland, the northern-parts of Ireland and Wales, and were even sometimes seen off the coast of Cornwall. And having purchased, or en- trapped by fraud or violence a great num- ber of men, women and children, they proceeded with their cargoes of human flesh to the other end of the world, and sold them to their planters, where they were flogged into obedience, and made to work like horses all the rest of their lives. My blood ran cold at the idea, while every one on the island also expressed his horror that such an iniquitous traffic should be suffered to exist. But, except by open violence, it was found impossible to destroy the trade, on account of a bar- barous prejudice, entertained of late by the negroes, that the white people have no souls ! However, we were determined to attack them, and steering down our island upon them, soon overwhelmed them : we saved as many of the white people as possible, but pushed all the blacks into the water again. The poor creatures we saved from slavery were so overjoyed, that they wept aloud through gratitude, and we experienced every delightful sensation to think what happiness we should shower upon their parents, their brothers and sisters and children, by bringing them home safe, redeemed from slavery, to the bosom of their native country. Having happily arrived in England, I immediately laid astatement of my voyage, etc., before the Privy Council, and en- treated an immediate assistance to travel into Africa, and, if possible, refit my for- mer machine, and take it along with the rest. Everything was instantly granted to my satisfaction, and I received orders to get myself ready for departure as soon as possible. As the Emperor of China had sent a most curious animal as a present to Eu- rope, which was kept in the Tower, and it being of an enormous stature, and capable of performing the voyage with eclat, she was ordered to attend me. She was called Sphinx, and was one of the most tremendous though magnificent figures I 232 TRAVELS AND ADVENTURES OF BARON MUNCHAUSEX. ever beheld. She was harnessed with superb trappings to a large flat-bottomed boat, in which was placed an edifice of wood, exactly representing Westminster Hall. Two balloons were placed over it, tackled by a number of ropes to the boat, to keep up a proper equilibrium, and prevent it from overturning, or fill- ing, from the prodigious weight of the fabric. The interior of the edifice was decorated with seats, in the form of an amphitheatre, and crammed as full as it could hold with ladies and lords, as a council and retinue for your humble servant. Nearly in the centre was a seat elegantly decorated for myself, and on either side of me were placed the famous Gog and Magog in all their pomp. The Lord Viscount Gosamer being our postilion, we floated gallantly down the river, the noble Sphinx gambolling like the huge leviathan, and towing after her the boat and balloons. Thus we advanced, sailing gently, into the open sea ; being calm weather, we could scarcely feel the motion of the vehicle, and passed our time in grand de- bate upon the glorious intention of our voyage, and the discoveries that would result. "I am of opinion," said my noble friend, Hilaro Frosticos, " that Africa was originally inhabited for the greater part, or, I may say, subjugated by lions, which, next to man, seem to be the most dreaded of all mortal tyrants. The country in general at least what we have been Hitherto able to discover, seems rather inimical to human life ; the intolerable dryness of the place, the burning sands that overwhelm whole armies and cities in general ruin, and the hideous life many roving hordes are compelled to lead, in- cline me to think, that if ever we form any great settlements therein, it will be- come the grave of our countrymen. Yet it is nearer to us than the East Indies, and I cannot but imagine, that in many places every production of China, and of the East and West Indies, would flourish, if properly attended to. And as the country isso prodigiously extensive and unknown, what a source of discovery must not it contain ! In fact, we know less about the interior of Africa than we do of the Moon ; for in this latter we measure the very pro- minences, and observe the varieties and Forests and mountains on her spotted orb.' " But we see nothing in the interior of Africa, but what some compilers of maps or geographers are fanciful enough to magine. What a happy event, therefore, should we not expect from a voyage of discovery and colonization undertaken in so magnificent a style as the present ! what a pride what an acquisition to philosophy ! '' inequalities of the surface through our CHAPTER XXV. COUNT GOSAMER THROWN BY SPHINX INTO THE SNOW ON THE TOP OF TENERIFFE GOG AND MAGOG CONDUCT SPHINX FOR THE REST OF THE VOYAGE THE BARON AR- RIVES AT THE CAPE, AND UNITES HIS FOR- MER CHARIOT, ETC., TO HIS NEW RETINUE PASSES INTO AFRICA, PROCEEDING FROM THE CAPE NORTHWARDS DEFEATS A HOST OF LIONS BY A CURIOUS STRATAGEM TRAVELS THROUGH AN IMMENSE DESERT HIS WHOLE COMPANY, CHARIOT, ETC., OVERWHELMED BY A WHIRLWIND OF SAND EXTRICATES THEM, AND ARRIVES IN A FERTILE COUNTRY. THE brave Count Gosamer, with a huge pair of hell-fire spurs on, riding on Sphinx, directed the whole retinue towards the Madeiras. But the count had no small share of an amiable vanity, and perceiving great multitudes of people, Gascons, etc,, assembled on the French coast, he could not refrain from showing some singular capers, such as they had never seen before : but especially when he observed all the members of the National Assembly extend themselves along the shore, as a piece of French politeness, to honor this expe- dition, with Rousseau, Voltaire, and Beel- zebub at their head; he set spurs to Sphinx, and at the same time cut and cracked away as hard as he could, holding in the reins with all his might, striving to make the creature plunge and show some uncommon diversion. But sulky and ill- tempered was Sphinx at the time : she plunged indeed such a devil of a plunge, that she dashed him in one jerk over her head, and he fell precipitately into the water before her. It was in the Bay of TRAVELS AND ADVENTURES OF BARON MUNCHAUSEN. 233 Biscay, all the world knows a very bolster- ! ous sea, and Sphinx fearing he would be 1 drowned, never turned to the left or the j right out of his way, but advancing furi- | ous, just stooped her head a little, and supped the poor Count off the water into her mouth, together with the quantity of j two or three tuns of water which she must ! have taken in along with him, but which ' were, to such an enormous creature as j Sphinx, nothing more than a spoonful j would be to any of you or me. She swallowed him, but when she had got him in her stomach, his long spurs so scratched j and tickled her, that they produced the i effect of an emetic. No sooner was he in, | but out he was squirted with the most horrible impetuosity, like a ball or a shell j from the calibre of a mortar. Sphinx was at this time quite sea-sick, and the un- J fortunate Count was driven forth like a i sky-rocket, and landed upon the peak of , Teneriffe, plunged over head and ears in ! the snow requiescat in pace ! I perceived all this mischief from my seat in the ark, but was in such a con- vulsion of laughter, that I could not utter an intelligible word. And now Sphinx, deprived of her postilion, went on a zig- zag direction, and gambolled away after a most dreadful manner. And thus had everything gone to wreck, had I not given instant orders to Gog and Magog to sally forth. They plunged into the water, and i Swimming on each side, got at length i right before the animal, and then seized the reins. Thus they continued swim- ming on each side, like tritons, holding , the muzzle of Sphinx, while I, sallying forth astride upon the creature's back, steered forward on our voyage to the Cape of Good Hope. Arriving at the Cape, I immediately gave orders to repair my former chariot and machines which were very expedi- i tiously performed by the excellent artists I had brought with me from Europe. And now everything being refitted, we launched forth upon the water : perhaps there never was anything more glorious or more august. 'T was magnificent to behold Sphinx make her obeisance on the water, and the crickets chirp upon the bulls in return of the salute ; while Gog and Magog advancing, took the reins of the great John Mowmowsky, and leading to- wards us, chariot and all, instantly dis- posed of them to the forepart of the ark by hooks and eye?, and tackled Sphinx be- fore all the bulls. Thus the whole had a most tremendous and triumphal appear- ance. In front floated forwards the mighty Sphinx, with Gog and Magog on each side; next followed in order the bulls with crickets 011 their heads ; and then ad- vanced the chariot of Queen Mab, con- taining the curious seat and orrery of heaven ; after which appeared the boat and ark of council, overtopped with two balloons, which gave an air of greater lightness and elegance to the whole. I placed in the galleries under the balloons and on the backs of the bulls, a number of excellent vocal performers, with mar- tial music of clarionets and trumpets. They sung the " Watery Dangers," and the " Pomp of Deep Cerulean ! " The sun shone glorious on the water while the procession advanced toward the land under five hundred arches of ice, illumi- nated with colored lights, and adorned in the most grotesque and fanciful style with sea-weed, elegant festoons and shells of every kind; while a thousand water- spouts danced eternally before and after us, attracting the water from the sea in a kind of cone, and suddenly uniting with the most fantastical thunder and lightning. Having landed our whole retinue, we immediately began to proceed toward the heart of Africa, but first thought it ex- pedient to place a number of wheels under the ark for its greater facility of advancing. We journeyed nearly due north for several days, and met with nothing remarkable, except the astonishment of the savage natives to behold our equipage. The Dutch Government at the Cape, to do them justice, gave us every possible assistance for the expedition. I presume they had received instruction on that head from their High Mightinesses in Holland. However, they presented us with a specimen of some of the most excellent of their Cape wine, and showed us every politeness in their power. As to the face of the country, as we advanced, it ap- peared in many places capable of every cultivation and of abundant fertility. The natives and Hottentots of this part of Africa have been frequently de- scribed by travellers, and therefore it is not necessary to say any more of them. But in the more interior parts of Africa, the appearance, manners, and genius of the people are totally different. 234 TRAVELS AND ADVENTURES OF BARON MUNCHAUSEN. We directed our course by the compass and stars, getting every day prodigious quantities of game in the woods, and at night encamping within a proper en- closure for fear of the wild beasts. One whole day in particular we heard on every side, among the hills, the horrible roaring of lions resounding from rock to rock like broken thunder. It seemed as if there was a general rendezvous of all these savage animals to fall upon our party. That whole day we advanced with caution, our hunters scarcely venturing beyond pistol shot from the caravan for fear of dissolution. At night we encamped as usual, and threw up a circular entrench- ment round our tents. We had scarce re- tired to repose when we found ourselves serenaded by at least one thousand lions, approaching equally on every side, and within a hundred paces. Our cattle showed the most horrible symptoms of fear, all trembling, and in cold perspira- tion. I directly ordered the whole com- pany to stand to their arms, and not to make any noise by firing till I should command them. I then took a large quantity of tar, which I had brought with our caravan for that purpose, and strewed it in a continued stream round the en- campment, within which circle of tar I immediately placed another train or circle of gunpowder, and having taken this pre- caution, I anxiously waited the lions' ap- proach. These dreadful animals, know- ing, I presume, the force of our troop, advanced very slowly, and with caution, approaching on every side of us with an equal pace, and growling in hideous con- cert, so as to resemble an earthquake, or some similar convulsion of the world. When they had at length advanced and steeped all their paws in the tar, they put their noses to it, smelling it as if it were blood, and daubed their great bushy hair and whiskers with it equal to their paws. At that very instant, when, in concert, they were to give the mortal dart upon us, I discharged a pistol at the train of gun- powder, which instantly exploded on every side, made all the lions recoil in general uproar, and take to flight with the utmost precipitation. In an instant we could benold them scattered through the woods at some distance, roaring in agony, and moving about like so many Will-o'-the- Wisps, their paws and faces all on fire from the tar and the gunpowder. I then ordered a general pursuit : we fol- lowed them on every side through the woods, their own light serving as our guide, until, before the rising of the sun, we followed into their fastnesses and shot or otherwise destroyed every one of them, and during the whole of our journey after we never heard the roaring of a lion, nor did any wild beast presume to make an- other attack upon our party, which shows the excellence of immediate presence of mind, and the terror inspired into the most savage enemies by a proper and well- timed proceeding. We at length arrived on the confines of an immeasurable desert an immense plain, extending on every side of us like an ocean. Not a tree, nor a shrub, nor a blade of grass was to be seen, but all ap- peared an extreme fine sand, mixed with gold-dust and little sparkling pearls. The gold-dust and pearls appeared to us of little value, because we could have no expectation of returning to England for a considerable time. We observed, at a great distance, something like a smoke arising just over the verge of the horizon, and looking with our telescopes we per- ceived it to be a whirlwind tearing up the sand and tossing it about in the heavens with frightful impetuosity. I immediately ordered my company to erect a mound around us of a great size, which we did with astonishing labor and perseverance, and then roofed it over with certain planks and timber, which we had with us for the purpose. Our labor was scarcely finished when the sand came rolling in like the waves of the sea ; 't was a storm and river of sand united. It continued to advance in the same direction, without intermis- sion, for three days, and completely covered over the mound we had erected, and buried us all within. The intense heat of the place was intolerable; but guessing, by the cessation of the noise, that the storm was passed, we set about digging a passage to the light of day again, which we effected in a very short time, and ascending, perceived that the whole had been so completely covered with the sand that there appeared no hills, but one con- tinued plain, with inequalities or ridges on it like the waves of the sea. We soon extricated our vehicle and retinue from burning sands, but not without great danger, as the heat was very violent, and began to proceed on our voyage. Storms TRAVELS AND ADVENTURES OF BARON MUNCHAUSEN. 235 of sand of a similar nature several times attacked us, but by using the same pre- cautions we preserved ourselves repeatedly from destruction. Having travelled more than nine thousand miles over this in- hospitable plain, exposed to the perpendi- cular rays of a burning sun, without ever meeting a rivulet, or a shower from heaven to refresh us, we at length became almost desperate, when, to our inexpressible joy, we beheld some mountains at a great dis- tance, and on our nearer approach ob- served them covered with a carpet of verdure and groves and woods. Nothing could appear more romantic or beautiful than the rocks and precipices intermingled with flowers and shrubs of every kind, and palm-trees of such a prodigious size as to surpass anything ever seen in Europe. Fruits of all kinds appeared growing wild m the utmost abundance, and antelopes and sheep and buffaloes wandered about the groves and valleys in profusion. The trees resounded with the melody of birds, and everything displayed a general scene of rural happiness and joy. CHAPTER XXVI. A FEAST ON LIVE BULLS AND KAVA THE NATIVES ADMIRE THE EUROPEAN ADVEN- TURERS THE EMPEROR COMES TO MEET THE BARON, AND PAYS HIM GREAT COMPLI- MENTSTHE INHABITANTS OF THE CENTRE OF AFRICA DESCENDED FROM THE PEOPLE OF THE MOON, PROVED BY AN INSCRIPTION IN AFRICA, AND BY THE ANALOGY OF THEIR LANGUAGE, WHICH IS ALSO THE SAME WITH THAT OF THE ANCIENT SCYTH- IANSTHE BARON IS DECLARED SOVE- REIGN OF THE INTERIOR OF AFRICA ON THE DECEASE OF THE EMPEROR HE EN- DEAVORS TO ABOLISH THE CUSTOM OF EAT- ING LIVE BULLS, WHICH EXCITES MUCH DISCONTENT THE ADVICE OF HILARO FROSTICOS UPON THE OCCASION THE BARON MAKES A SPEECH TO AN ASSEMBLY OF THE STATES, WHICH ONLY EXCITES GREATER MURMURS HE CONSULTS WITH HILARO FROSTICOS. HAVING passed over the nearest moun- tains, we entered a delightful vale, where we perceived a multitude of persons at a feast of living bulls, whose flesh they cut away with great knives, making a table of the creature's carcass, serenaded by the bellowing of the unfortunate animal. Nothing seemed requisite to add to the barbarity of this feast but kava, made as described in Cook's voyages, and at the conclusion of the feast we perceived them brewing this liquor, which they drank with the utmost avidity. From that mo- ment, inspired with an idea of universal benevolence, I determined to abolish the custom of eating live flesh and drinking of kava. But I knew that such a thing could not be immediately effected, what- ever in future time might be performed. Having rested ourselves during a few days, we determined to set out towards the principal city of the empire. The singularity of our appearance was spoken of all over the country as a phenomenon. The multitude looked upon Sphinx, the bulls, the crickets, the balloons, and the whole company as something more than terrestrial, but especially the thunder of our fire-arms, which struck horror and amazement into the whole nation. We at length arrived at the metropolis, situated on the banks of a noble river, and the emperor, attended by all his court, came out in grand procession to meet us. The emperor appeared mounted on a dromedary, royally caparisoned, with all his attendants on foot, through respect for his majesty. He was rather above the middle stature of that country, four feet three inches in height, with a counte- nance, like all his countrymen, as white as snow ! He was preceded by a band of most exquisite music, according to the fashion of the country, and his whole reti- nue halted within about fifty paces of our troop. We returned the salute by a dis- charge of musketry and a flourish of our trumpets and martial music. I com- manded our caravan to halt, and, dis- mounting, advanced uncovered, with only two attendants, towards his majesty. The emperor was equally polite, and descend- ing from his dromedary, advanced to meet me. " I am happy," said he, " to have the honor to receive so illustrious a tra- veller, and assure you that everything in my empire shall be at your disposal." I thanked his majesty for his polite- ness, and expressed how happy I was to meet so polished and refined a people in the centre of Africa, and that I hoped to show myself and company grateful for his esteem by introducing the arts and sci- ences of Europe among the people. I immediately perceived the true descent of this people, which does not appear of 236 TRAVELS AND ADVENTURES OF BARON MUNCHAUSEN. terrestrial origin, but descended from some of the inhabitants of the Moon, because the principal language spoken there, and in the centre of Africa, is very nearly the same. Their alphabet and method of writing are pretty much the same, and show the extreme antiquity of this people, and their exalted origin. I here give you a specimen of their writing : Sregnah dna skoohtop. These characters I have sub- mitted to the inspection of a celebrated antiquarian, and it will be proved to the satisfaction of every one in his next vol- ume, what an immediate intercourse there must have been between the inhabitants of the Moon and the ancient Scythians, which Scythians did not by any means inhabit a part of Kussia, but the central part of Africa, as I can abundantly prove to my very learned and laborious friend. The meaning of the above words is, The Scythians are of heavenly origin. The word Sregnah, which signifies Scythians, is com- pounded of sreg or sre, whence our present English word sire, or sir : and nah, or gnah, knowledge, because the Scythians united the essentials of nobility and learning toge- ther : dna signifies heaven, or belonging to the Moon, from duna, who was anciently worshipped as goddess of that luminary. And skoohtop signifies the origin or begin- ning of anything from skoo, the name used in the Moon for a point in geometry, and top or htop, vegetation. These words are in- scribed at this day upon a pyramid in the centre of Africa, nearly at the source of the river Niger ; and if any one refuses his assent, he may go there to be con- vinced. The emperor conducted me to his court amidst the admiration of his courtiers, and paid us every possible politeness that African magnificence could bestow. He never presumed to proceed on any expe- dition without consulting us, and looking upon us as a species of superior beings, paid the greatest respect to our opinions. He frequently asked me about the states of Europe, and the kingdom of Great Britain, and appeared lost in admiration at the account I gave him of our ship- ping, and the immensity of the ocean. We taught him to regulate the govern- ment nearly on the same plan with the British constitution, and to institute a parliament and degrees of nobility. His majesty was the last of his royal line, and on his decease, with the unanimous con- sent of the people, made me heir to the whole empire. The nobility and chiefs of the country immediately waited upon me with petitions, entreating me to ac- cept the government. I consulted with my noble friends, Gog arid Magog, etc., and after much consultation it was agreed that I should accept the government, not as ac- tual and independent monarch of the place^ but as viceroy to his majesty of England. I now thought it high time to do away the custom of eating of live flesh and drinking of kava, and for that purpose used every persuasive method to wean the majority of the people from it. This, to my astonishment, was not taken in good part by the nation, and they looked with jealousy at those strangers who wanted to make innovations among them. Nevertheless, I felt much concern to think that my fellow-creatures could be capable of such barbarity. I did every- thing that a heart fraught with universal benevolence and good-will to all mankind could be capable of desiring. I first tried every method of persuasion and incite- ment. I did not harshly reprove them, but I invited frequently whole thousands to dine, after the fashion of Europe, upon roasted meat. Alas, 't was all in vain ! my goodness nearly excited a sedition. They murmured among themselves, spoke of my intentions, my wild and ambitious views, as if I, O heaven ! could have had any personal interested motive in making them live like men, rather than like croco- diles and tigers. In fine, perceiving that gentleness could be of no avail, well know- ing that when complaisance can effect nothing from some spirits, compulsion ex- cites respect and veneration, I prohibited, under the pain of the severest penalties, the drinking of kava, or eating of live flesh, for the space of nine days, within the districts of Angaliner and Paphagalna. But this created such an universal ab- horrence and detestation of my govern- ment, that my ministers, and even myself, were universally pasquinaded ; lampoons, satires, ridicule, and insult were showered upon the name of Munchausen wherever it was mentioned; and, in fine, there never was a government so much detested, or with such little reason. In this dilemma I had recourse to the advice of my noble friend, Hilaro Frosti- cos. In his good sense I now expected some resource, for the rest of the council, TRAVELS AND ADVENTURES OF BARON MUNCHAUSEN. 237 who had advised me to the former method, had given but a poor specimen of their abilities and discernment, or I should have succeeded more happily. In short, he addressed himself to me and to the council as follows : " It is in vain, most noble Munchausen, that your Excellency endeavors to compel or force these people to a life to which they have never been accustomed. In vain do you tell them that apple-pies, pudding, roast beef, minced pies, or tarts, are delicious, that sugar is sweet, that wine is exquisite. Alas ! they cannot, they will not comprehend what deli- ciousness is, what sweetness, or what the flavor of the grape. And even if they were convinced of the superior excellence of your way of life, never, never would they be persuaded ; and that, if for no other reason, but because force or persua- sion is employed to induce them to it. Abandon that idea for the present, and let us try another method. My opinion, there- fore, is that we should at once cease all endeavors to compel or persuade them. But let us, if possible, procure a quantity of fudge from England, and carelessly scat- ter it over all the country ; and from this disposal of matters I presume nay, I have a moral certainty, that we shall reclaim this people from horror and barbarity." Had this been proposed at any other time, it would have been violently op- posed in the council ; but now, when every other attempt had failed, when there seem- ed no other resource, the majority willingly submitted to they knew not what, for they absolutely had no idea of the manner, the possibility of success, or how they could bring matters to bear. However, 't was a scheme, and as such they submitted. For my part, I listened with ecstacy to the words of Hilaro Frosticos, for I knew that he had a most singular knowledge of hu- man kind, and could humor and persuade them on to their own happiness and universal good. Therefore, according to the advice of Hilaro, 1 despatched a bal- loon with four men over the desert to the Cape of Good Hope, with letters to be for- warded to England, requiring, without delay, a few cargoes of fudge. The people had all this time remained in a general state of ferment and murmur. Everything that rancor, low wit, and de- plorable ignorance could conceive to asperse my government, was put in exe- cution. The most worthy, even the most beneficent actions, everything that was amiable, were perverted into opposition. The heart of Munchausen was not made of such impenetrable stuff as to be insen- sible to the hatred of even the most worth- less wretch in the whole kingdom ; and once, at a general assembly of the states, filled with an idea of such continued in- gratitude, I spoke as pathetic as possible, not, methought, beneath my dignity, to make them feel for me : that the univer- sal good and happiness of the people were all I wished or desired : that if my actions had been mistaken, or improper surmises formed, still I had no wish, no desire but the public welfare, etc., etc., etc. Hilaro Frosticos was all this time much disturbed ; he looked sternly at me he frowned, but I was so engrossed with the warmth of my heart, my intentions, that I understood him not : in a minute I saw nothing but as if through a cloud (such is the force of amiable sensibility) lords, ladies, chiefs the whole assembly seemeu to swim before my sight. The more I thought on my good intentions, the lam- poons which so much affected my delicacy, good nature, tenderness I forgot myself I spoke rapid, violent beneficence fire tenderness alas ! I melted into tears ! " Pish I pish !" said Hilaro Frosticos. Now, indeed, was my government lam- pooned, satirized, carribonadoed, bepic- kled, and bedevilled. One day, with my arm full of lampoons, I started up as Hi- laro entered the room, the tears in my eyes : " Look, look here, Hilaro ! how can I bear all this ? It is impossible to please them ; I will leave the government I cannot bear it! See what pitiful anecdotes what surmises: I will make my people feel for me I will leave the government ! " " Pshaw I " says Hilaro. At that simple monosyllable I found myself changed as if by magic ! for I ever looked on Hilaro as a person so experienced such forti- tude, such good sense. " There are three sail, under the convoy of a frigate," added Hilaro, "just arrived at the Cape, after a fortunate passage, laden with the fudge that we demanded. No time is to be lost ; let it be immediately conducted hither, and distributed through the principal granaries of the empire." 238 TRAVELS AND ADVENTUEES OF BARON MUNCHAUSEN. CHAPTER XXVII. A PROCLAMATION BY THE BARON EXCES- SIVE CURIOSITY OF THE PEOPLE TO KNOW WHAT FUDGE WAS THE PEOPLE IN A GENERAL FERMENT ABOUT IT THEY BREAK OPEN ALL THE GRANARIES IN THE EMPIRE THE AFFECTIONS OF THE PEOPLE CONCILIATED AN ODE PERFORMED IN HONOR OF THE BARON HIS DISCOURSE WITH FRAGRANTIA ON THE EXCELLENCE OF THE MUSIC. SOME time after I ordered the following proclamation to be published in the Court Gazette, and in all the other papers of the empire : BY THE MOST MIGHTY AND PUISSANT LORD, HIS EXCELLENCY THE LORD BARON MUNCHAUSEN. WHEREAS a quantity of fudge has been distributed through all the granaries of the empire for particular uses ; and as the na tives have ever expressed their aversion to all manner of European eatables, it is here- by strictly forbidden, under pain of the sever- est penalties, for any of the officers charged with the keeping of the said fudge, to give, sell, or suffer to be sold, any part or quan- tity whatever of the said material, until it be agreeable unto our good will and pleas- ure. MUNCHAUSEN. Dated in our Castle of Gristariska, this Triskill of the month of Griskish, in the year Moulikas- ranavas-kashna-vildash. This proclamation excited the most ardent curiosity all over the empire. " Do you know what this fudge is ?" said Lady Mooshilgarousti to Lord Darnarlaganl. "Fudge!" said he, "fudge! no: what fudge ?" " I mean," replied her ladyship, u the enormous quantity of fudge that has been distributed under guards in all the strong places in the empire, and which is strictly forbidden to be sold or given to any of the natives under the severest penalties." " Lord !" replied he, " what in the name of wonder can it be? For- bidden ! why it must, but pray do you, Lady Fashashash, do you know what this fudge is ? Do you, Lord Trastillauex ? or you, Miss Gristilarkask? What! nobody know what this fudge can be?" It engrossed for several clays the chit- chat of the whole empire. Fudge, fudge, fudge, resounded in all companies and in all places, from the rising until the setting of the sun ; and even at night, when gentle sleep refreshed the rest of mortals, the la- dies of all that country were dreaming of fudge 1 " Upon my honor," said Kitty, as she was adjusting her modesty piece before the glass, just after getting out of bed, "there is scarce anything I would not give to know what this fudge can be." " La ! my dear," replied Miss Killnariska, " I have been dreaming the whole night of nothing but fudge ; I thought my lover kissed my hand, and pressed it to his bo- som, while I, frowning, endeavored to wrest it from him : that he kneeled at my feet. No, never, never will I look at you, cried I, till you tell me what this fudge can be, or get me some of it. Begone! cried I, with all the dignity of offended beauty, majesty, and a tragic queen. Be- gone ! never see me more, or bring me this delicious fudge. He swore on the honor of a knight, that he would wander o'er the world, encounter every danger, perish in the attempt, or satisfy the angel of his soul 1" The chiefs and nobility of the nation, when they met together to drink their kava, spoke of nothing but fudge. Men, women, and children, all, all talked of nothing but fudge. 'T was a fury of curi- osity, one general ferment, an universal fever nothing but fudge could allay it. But in one respect they all agreed, that government must have had some interested view in giving such positive orders to preserve it, and keep it from the natives of the country. Petitions were addressed to me from all quarters, from every corpora- tion and body of men in the whole empire. The majority of the people instructed their constituents, and the parliament presented a petition, praying that I would be pleased to take the state of the nation under consideration, and e orders to satisfy the people, or the most dreadful consequences were to be ap- prehended. To these requests, at the ntreaty of my council, I made no reply, or at best but unsatisfactory answers. Curiosity was on the rack ; they forgot to .ampoon the government, so engaged ivere they about the fudge. The great assembly of the States could think of TRAVELS AND ADVENTURES OF BARON MUNCHAUSEN. 239 nothing else. Instead ot' enacting laws for the regulation of the people, instead of consulting what should seem most wise, most excellent, they could think, talk, and harangue of nothing but fudge. In vain did the Speaker call to order ; the more checks they got the more extrava- gant and inquisitive they were. In short, the populace in many places rose in the most outrageous and tumultu- ous manner, forced open the granaries in all places in one day, and triumphantly distributed the fudge through the whole empire. Whether on account of the longing, the great curiosity, imagination or the dis- position of the people, I cannot say, but they found it infinitely to their taste ; 'twas an intoxication of joy, satisfaction, and applause. Finding how much they liked this fudge, I procured another quantity from England, much greater than the former, and cautiously bestowed it over all the kingdom. Thus were the affections of the people regained: and they, from hence, began to venerate, applaud, and admire my government more than ever. The following ode was performed at the castle, in the most superb style, and universally admired : ODE. " Ye bulls and crickets, and Gog, Magog, And trump'ts high chiming anthrophog, Come sing blithe choral all in og, Caralog, basilog, fog, and bog 1 Great and superb appears thy cap sublime, Admired and worshipp'd as the rising sun; Solemn, majestic, wise, like hoary Time, And fam'd alike for virtue, sense, and fun. Then swell the noble strain with song, And elegance divine, While goddesses around shall throng, And all the muses nine. And bulls and crickets, and Gog, Magog, And trumpets chiming anthrophog, Shall sing blithe choral all in og, Caralog, basilog, fog, and bog. This piece of poetry was much ap- plauded, admired, and encored in every public assembly, celebrated as an astonish- ing effort of genius ; and the music, com- posed by Mynheer Gastrashbark Gkrghh- barwskhk, was thought equal to the sense ! Never was there anything so universally admired, the summit of the most exquisite wit, the keenest praise, the most excellent music. " Upon my honor, and the faith I owe my love," said I, " music may be talked of in England, but to possess the very soul of harmony the world should come to the performance of this ode." Lady Fragrantia was at that moment drumming with her fingers on the edge of her fan, lost in a reverie, thinking she was play- ing upon Was it a forte piano? "No, my dear Fragrantia," said I, tenderly taking her in my arms while she melted into tears ; " never, never, will I play upon any other ! " Oh ! 't was divine, to see her like a sum- mer's morning, all blushing and full of dew ! CHAPTER XXVIII. THE BARON SETS ALL THE PEOPLE OF THE EMPIBE TO WORK TO BUILD A BRIDGE FROM THEIR COUNTRY TO GREAT BRITAIN HIS CONTRIVANCE TO RENDER THE ARCH SE- CURE ORDERS AN INSCRIPTION TO BE EN- GRAVED ON THE BRIDGE RETURNS WITH ALL HIS COMPANY, CHARIOT, ETC., TO ENGLAND SURVEYS THE KINGDOMS AND NATIONS UNDER HIM FROM THE MIDDLE OF THE BRIDGE. "AND now, most noble Baron," said the illustrious Hilaro Frosticos, " now is the time to make this people proceed in any business that we find convenient. Take them at this present ferment of the mind, let them not think, but at once set them to work." In short, the whole nation went heartily to the business, to build an edifice such as was never seen in any other country. I took care to supply them with their favorite kava and fudge, and they worked like horses. The Tower of Babylon, which, according to Hermo- gastricus, was seven miles high, or the Chinese wall, was a mere trifle, in com- parison to this stupendous edifice, which was completed in a very short space of time. It was of an immense height, far beyond anything that ever had been before erected and of such gentle ascent, that a regiment of cavalry with a train of cannon could 240 TRAVELS AND ADVENTURES OF BARON MUNCHAUSEN. ascend with perfect ease and facility. It seemed like a rainbow in the heavens, the base of which appeared to rise in the centre of Africa, and the other extremity stoop into Great Britain. A most noble bridge indeed, and a piece of masonry that has outdone Sir Christopher Wren. Wonderful must it have been to form so tremendous an arch, especially as the artists had certain difficulties to labor against which they could not have in the formation of any other arch in the world I mean, the attraction of the Moon and planets : Because the arch was of so great a height, and in some parts so elongated from the earth, as in a great measure to diminish in its gravitation to the centre of our globe; or, rather, seemed more easily operated upon by the attraction of the planets ; so that the stones of the arch, one would think at certain times, were ready to fall up to the Moon and at other times to fall down to the Earth. But as the former was more to be dreaded, I se- cured stability to the fabric by a curious contrivance; I ordered the architects to get the heads of some hundred numb- sculls and blockheads, and fix them to the interior surface of the arch at certain in- tervals, all the whole length, by which means the arch was held together firm, and its inclination to the earth eternally established ; because of all the things in the world, the skulls of these kind of ani- mals have a strange facility of tending to the centre of the earth. The building being completed, I caused an inscription to be engraved in the most magnificent style upon the summit of the arch, in letters so great and luminous that all vessels sailing to the East or West Indies might read them distinct in the heavens, like the motto of Constantino : KARDOL BAGARLAN KAI TON FARINGO SARQAL RA MO PASHROL VATINEAC CAL COLNITOS RO NA FILNAT AGASTRA 8A DINGANNAL FANO. That is to say, " As long as this arch and bond of union shall exist, so long shall the people be happy. Nor can all the power of the world affect them, unless the Moon, advancing from her usual sphere, should so much attract the skulls as to cause a sudden elevation, on which the whole will fall into the most horrible confusion." An easy intercourse being thus estab- lished between Great Britain and the centre of Africa, numbers travelled con- tinually to and from both countries, and at my request mail coaches were ordered to run on the bridge between both em- pires. After some time, having settled the government perfectly to my satisfac- tion, I requested permission to resign, as a great cabal had been excited against me in England; I, therefore, received my letters of recall, and prepared to return to Old England. In fine, I set out upon my journey, cover- ed with applause and general admiration. I proceeded with the same retinue that I had before, Sphinx, Gog and Magog, etc., and advanced along the bridge, lined on each side with rows of trees, adorned with festoons of various flowers, and illu- minated with colored lights. We ad- vanced at a great rate along the bridge, which was so very extensive that we could scarcely perceive the ascent, but proceeded insensibly until we arrived on; the centre of the arch. The view from thence was glorious beyond conception ; *t was divine to look down on the kingdoms and seas and islands under us. Africa seemed in general of a tawny brownish color, burned up by the sun : Spain seemed more in- clining to a yellow, on account of some fields of corn scattered over the kingdom ; France appeared more inclining to a bright straw-color, intermixed with green ; and England appeared covered with the most beautiful verdure. I admired the appear- ance of the Baltic Sea, which evidently seemed to have been introduced between those countries by the sudden splitting of the land, and that originally Sweden was united to the western coast of Demark ; in short, the whole interstice of the Gulf of Finland had no being until these countries, by mutual consent, separated from one another. Such were my philosophical meditations as I advanced, when I ob- served a man in armor, with a tremen- dous spear or lance, and mounted upon a steed, advancing against me. I soon dis- covered by a telescope that it could be no other than Don Quixote, and promised myself much amusement in the rencounter. TRAVELS AND ADVENTURES OF BARON MUNCHAUSEN. 241 CHAPTER XXIX. THE BARON'S RETINUE is OPPOSED IN A HEROIC STYLE BY DON QUIXOTE, WHO IN HIS TURN IS ATTACKED BY GOG AND MAGOG LORD WHITTINGTON, WITH THE LORD MAYOR'S SHOW, COMES TO THE ASSISTANCE OF DON QUIXOTE GOG AND MAGOG ASSAIL HIS LORDSHIP LORD WHITTINGTON MAKES A SPEECH, AND DELUDES GOG AND MAGOG TO HIS PARTY A GENERAL SCENE OF UP- ROAR AND BATTLE AMONG THE COMPANY, UNTIL THE BARON, WITH GREAT PRESENCE OF MIND, APPEASES THE TUMULT. " WHAT art thou ?" exclaimed Don Quixote, on his potent steed. " Who art thou? Speak! or, by the eternal ven- geance of mine arm, thy whole machinery hall perish at sound of this my trumpet !" Astonished at so rude a salutation, the great Sphinx stopped short, and bridling up herself, drew in her head, like a snail, when it touches something that it does not like : the bulls set up a horrid bellowing, the crickets sounded an alarm, and Gog and Magog advanced before the rest. One of these powerful brothers had in his hand a great pole, to the extremity of which was fastened a cord of about two feet in length, and to the end of the cord was fastened a ball of iron, with spikes shooting from it like the rays of a star ; with this weapon he prepared to encounter, and advancing thus he spoke : " Audacious wight ! that thus, in com- plete steel arrayed, doth dare to venture cross my way, to stop the great Mun- chausen 1 Know then, proud knight, that thou shalt instant perish 'neath my potent arm." When Quixote, Mancha's knight, re- sponded firm : " Gigantic monster ! leader of witches, crickets, and chimeras dire! know thou that here before yon azure heaven the cause of truth, of valor, and of faith right pure shall ordeal counter try it !" Thus he spoke, and brandishing his mighty spear, would instant prodigies sublime performed, had not some wight placed 'neath the tail of dark Rosinante furze all thorny base : at which, quad- rupedanting, plunged the steed, and in- stant on the earth the knight roared credo for his life. At that same moment ten thousand frogs started from the morions of Gog and Magog, and furiously assailed the knight on every side. In vain he roared, and VOL. n. w. H. invoked fair Dulcinea del Toboso : for frogs' wild croaking seemed more loud, more sonorous than all his invocations. And thus in battle vile the knight was overcome, and spawn all swarmed upon his glittering helmet. " Detested miscreants !" roared the knight ; " avaunt ! Enchanters dire and goblins could alone this arduous task per- form ; to rout the knight of Mancha, foul defeat, and war, even such as ne'er was known before. Then hear, O del Toboso I hear my vows, that thus in anguish of my soul I urge, 'midst frogs, Gridalbin, Hecatou, Kai, Talon, and the Rove ! [for such the names and definitions of their qualities, their separate powers.] For Merlin plumed their airy flight, and then in watery moon-beam dyed his rod ec- centric. At the touch ten thousand frogs, strange metamorphosed, croaked erven thus : And here they come, on high be- hest, to vilify the knight that erst de- fended famed virginity, and matrons all bewronged, and pilgrims hoar, and courte- ous*guise of all ! But the age of chivalry is gone, and the glory of Europe is extin- guished forever !" He spake, and sudden good Lord Whit- tington, at head of all his raree-show, came forth, armor antique of chivalry, and helmets old, and troops, all streamers, flag! and banners glittering gay, red, gold, and purple ; and in every hand a square of gingerbread, all gilded nice, was brand- ished awful. At a word, ten thousand thousand Naples biscuits, crackers, buns, and flannel-cakes, and hats of gingerbread encountered in mid air in glorious exul- tation, like some huge storm of mill- stones, or when it rains whole clouds of dogs and cats. The frogs astonished, thunderstruck, forgot their notes and music, that before had seemed so terrible, and drowned the cries of knight renown, and mute in wonder heard the words of Whittington, pronouncing solemn : " Goblins, chimeras dire, or frogs, or whatsoe'er enchantment thus presents in antique shape, attend and hear the words of peace ; and thou, good herald, read aloud the Riot Act ! " He ceased, and dismal was the tone that softly breathed from all the frogs in chorus, who quick had petrified with fright, unless redoubted Gog and Magog, both with poles, high topped with airy bladders by a string dependent, had not 16 242 TRAVELS AND ADVENTURES OF BARON MUNCHAUSEN. stormed against his lordship. Ever and anon the bladders, loud resounding on his chaps, proclaimed their fury against all potent law, coercive mayorality ; when he, submissive, thus in cunning guile ad- dressed the knight assailant : " Gog, Ma- gog, renowned and famous! what, my tons, shall you assail your father, friend, and chief confessed? Shall you, thus armed with bladders vile, attack my title, eminence, and pomp sublime? Subside, vile discord, and again return to your true 'legiance. Think, my friends, how oft your gorgeous pouch" I've crammed, all calapash, green fat and calapee. Re- member how you've feasted, stood inert for ages, until size immense you've gained. And think, how different is the service of Munchausen, where you o'er seas, cold, briny float along the tide, eternal toiling like to slaves Algiers and Tripoli. And ev'n on high, balloon like, through the heavens have journeyed late, upon a rain- bow, or some awful bridge stretched eminent, as if on earth he had not work sufficient to distress your potent servi- tudes, but he should also seek in heaven dire cause of labor I Recollect, my friends, even why or wherefrom should you thus assail your lawful magistrate, or why de- sert his livery ? or for what or wherefore serve this German Lord Munchausen, who for all your labor shall alone bestow some fudge and heroic blows in war? Then cease, and thus in amity return to friendship aldermanic, bungy, brown, and sober." Ceased he then, right worshipful, when both the warring champions instant stemmed their battle, and in- sign of peace and unity returning, 'neath their feet re- clined their weapons. Sudden at a signal either stamped his foot sinistrine, and the loud report of bursten bladder stunned each ear surrounding, like the roar of thunder from on high convulsing heaven and earth. 'T was now upon the saddle once again the knight of Mancha rose, and in his hand far balancing his lance, full tilt against the troops of bulls opposing ran. And thou, shrill Crillitrilkril, than whom no cricket e'er on hob of rural cottage, or chimney black, more gladsome tuned his merry note, e'en thou didst perish, shriek- ing gave the ghost in empty air, the sport ef every wind; for e'en that heart sojo- cmnd and so gay was pierced, harsh spitted by the lance of Mancha, while undaunted thou didst sit between the horns that crowned Mowmowsky. And now Whit- tington advanced, 'midst armor antique and the powers Magog and Gog, and with his rod enchanting touched the head of every frog, long mute, and thunderstruck, at which, in universal chorus and salute, they sung blithe jocund, and amain ad- vanced rebellious 'gainst my troop. While Sphinx, though great, gigantic, seemed instinctive base and cowardly, and at the sight of storming gingerbread, and powers, Magog and Gog, and Quixote, all against her, started fierce, o'erturning boat, balloons, and all ; loud roared the bulls, hideous, and the crash of wheels, and the chaos of confusion drear, re- sounded far from earth to heaven. And still more fierce in charge the great Lord Whittington, from poke of ermine his famed Grimalkin took. She screamed, and harsh attacked my bulls confounded ; lightning-like she darted, and from half the troop their eyes devouring tore. Nor could the riders, crickets, throned sub- lime, escape from rage, from fury less averse, than cannons murder o'er the stormy sea. The great Mowmowsky roared amain and plunged in anguish, shunning every dart of fire-eyed fierce Grimalkin. Dire the rage of warfare and contending crickets, Quixote and great Magog ; when Whittington advancing " Good, my friends and warriors, headlong on the foe bear down impetuous." He spoke, and waving high the mighty rod, tipped won- derful each bull, at which more fierce the creatures bellowed, while enchant- ment drear devoured their vitals. And all had gone to wreck in more than mortal strife, unless, like Neptune orient from the stormy deep, I rose, e'en towering o'er the ruins of my fighting troops. Serene and calm I stood, and gazed around undaunted ; nor did aught oppose against my foes impetuous. But sudden from chariot purses plentiful of fudge poured forth, and scattered it amain o'er all tke crowd contending. As when old Catherine or the careful Joan doth scatter to the chickens bits of bread and crumbs frag- mented, while rejoiced they gobble fast the proffered scraps in general plenty and fraternal peace, and "hush," she criea "hush!" hush!" TRAVELS AND ADVENTURES OF BARON MUNCHAUSEN. 2-r CHAPTER XXX. THE BARON ARRIVES IN ENGLAND THE COLOSSUS OF RHODES COMES TO CONGRA- TULATE HIM GREAT REJOICINGS ON THE BARON'S RETURN, AND A TREMENDOUS CONCERT THE BARON'S DISCOURSE WITH FRAGRANTIA, AND HER OPINION OF THE TOUR TO THE HEBRIDES. HAVING arrived in England once more, the greatest rejoicings were made for my return ; the whole city seemed one gene- ral blaze of illumination, and the Colossus of Rhodes, hearing of my astonishing feats, came on purpose to England to con- gratulate me on such unparalleled achieve- ments. But, above all other rejoicings on my return, the musical oratorio and song of triumph were magnificent in the ex- treme. Gog and Magog were ordered to take the maiden tower of Windsor, and make a tambourine or great drum of it. For this purpose they extended an ele- phant's hide, tanned and prepared for the design, across the summit of the tower, from parapet to parapet, so that in propor- tion this extended elephant's hide was to the whole of the castle what the parch- ment is to a drum, in such a manner that the whole became one great instrument of war. To correspond with this, Colossus took Guildhall and Westminster Abbey, and turning the foundations towards the hea- vens, so that the roofs of the edifices were upon the ground, he strung them across with brass and steel wire from side to side, and thus, when strung, they had the ap- pearance of most noble dulcimers. He then took the great dome of St. Paul's, raising it off the earth with as much facility as you would a decanter of claret. And when once risen up it had the appearance of a quart bottle. Colossus instantly, with his teeth, cracked off the superior part of the cupola, and then applying his lips to the instrument, began to sound it like a trumpet. 'T was martial, beyond descrip- tion tantara ! tara ta I During the concert I walked in the park with Lady Fragrantia : she was dressed that morning in a chemise d la reine. " I like," said she, " the dew of the morning, 't is delicate and ethereal, and, by thus be- spangling me, I think it will more approx- imate me to the nature of the rose [for her looks were like Aurora] ; and to confirm the vermilion I shall go to Spa." " Aud drink the Pouhon spring," added I, gaz- 'ng at her from top to toe. " Yes," replied ;he lovely Fragrantia, " with all my heart ; t is the drink of sweetness and delicacy. Never were there any creatures like the water-drinkers at Spa ; they seem like so many thirsty blossoms on a peach-tree, ihat suck up the shower in the scorching heat. There is a certain something in the waters that gives vigor to the whole frame, and expands every heart with rap- ture and benevolence. They drink ! good ods ! how they do drink I and then, how they sleep I Pray, my dear Baron, were you ever at the Falls of Niagara ?'' " Yes, my lady," replied I, surprised at such a strange association of ideas ; " I have been, many years ago, at the Falls of Niagara, and found no more difficulty in swimming up and down the cataracts than I should to move a minuet." At that moment she dropped her nosegay. " Ah," said she, as I presented it to her, " there is no great variety in these polyanthuses. do assure you, my dear Baron, that there is taste in the selection of flowers as well as everything else, and were I a girl of sixteen I should wear some rose-buds in my bosom, but at five-and-twenty I think it would be more Apropos to wear a full-blown rose, quite ripe, and ready to drop off the stalk for want of being pulled heigh-ho !" " But pray, my lady," said I, "now do you like the concert?" " Alas ! " said she, languishingly, while she laid her hand upon my shoulder, " what are these bodiless sounds and vi- brations to me? and yet what an exquisite sweetness in the songs of the northern part of our island : ' Thou art gone awa' from me, Mary ! ' How pathetic and di- vine the little airs of Scotland and the Hebrides ! But never, never can I think of that same Dr. Johnson that CONSTA- BLE, as Fergus MacLeod calls him but I have an idea of a great brown full-bot- tomed wig and a hogshead of porter! Oh, 't was base I to be treated everywhere with politeness and hospitality, and in return invidiously to smellfungus them all over ; to go to the country of Kate of Aberdeen, of Auld Robin Gray, 'midst rural inno- cence and sweetness, take up their plaids, and dance. Oh I doctor, doctorl " " And what would you say, Fragrantia, if you were to write a tour to the He- 244 TRAVELS AND ADVENTURES OF BARON MUNCHAUSEN. brides ? " " Peace to the heroes," replied she, in a delicate and theatrical tone; " peace to the heroes who sleep in the isle of lona ; the sons of the wave, and the chiefs of the dark -brown shield ! The tear of the sympathizing stranger is scat- tered by the wind over the hoary stones as she meditates sorrowfully on the times of old I Such could I say, sitting upon some druidical heap or tumulus. The fact is, there is a right and wrong handle to everything, and there is more pleasure in thinking with pure nobility of heart than with the illiberal enmities and sarcasm of a blackguard." CHAPTER XXXI. A LITIGATED CONTENTION BETWEEN DON QUIXOTE, GOG, MAGOG, ETC. A GRAND COURT ASSEMBLED UPON IT THE APPEAR- ANCE OF THE COMPANY THE MATRONS, JUDGES, ETC. THE METHOD OF WRITING, AND THE USE OF THE FASHIONABLE AMUSEMENT QUIZZES WAUWAU ARRIVES FROM THE COUNTRY OF PRESTER JOHN, AND LEADS THE WHOLE ASSEMBLY A WILD- GOOSE CHASE TO THE TOP OF PLINLIMMON, AND THENCE TO VIRGINIA THE BARON MEETS A FLOATING ISLAND IN HIS VOYAGE TO AMERICA PURSUES WAUWAU WITH HIS WHOLE COMPANY THROUGH THE DES- ERTS OF NORTH AMERICA HIS CURIOUS CONTRIVANCE TO SEIZE WAUWAU IN A MORASS. THE contention between Gog and Ma- gog, and Sphinx, Hilaro Frosticos, the Lord Whittington, etc., was productive of infinite litigation. All the lawyers in the kingdom were employed to render the affair as complex and gloriously uncertain as possible ; and, in fine, the whole na- tion became interested, and were divided on both sides of the question. Colossus took the part of Sphinx, and the affair was at length submitted to the decision of a grand council in a great hall, adorned with seats on every side in form of an amphitheatre. The assembly appeared the most magnificent and splendid in the world. A court or jury of one hundred ma- trons occupied the principal and most honorable part of the amphitheatre ; they were dressed in flowing robes of sky-blue velvet, adorned with festoons of brilliants and diamond stars; grave and sedate- looking matrons, all in uniform, with spectacles upon their noses ; and opposite to these were placed one hundred judges, with curly white wigs flowing down on each side of them to their very feet, so that Solomon in all his glory was not so wise in appearance. At the ardent re- quest of the whole empire, I condescended to be the president of the court, and being arrayed accordingly, I took my seat be- neath a canopy erected in the centre. Be- fore every judge was placed a square ink- stand, containing a gallon of ink, and pens of a proportionable size ; and also right before him an enormous folio, so large as to serve for table and book at the same time. But they did not make much use of their pens and ink, except to blot and daub the paper; for, that they should be the more impartial, I had ordered that none but the blind should be honored with the employment : so that when they attempted to write anything, they uni- formly dipped their pens into the machine containing sand, and having scrawled over a page, as they thought, desiring then to dry it with sand, would spill half a gallon of ink upon the paper, and there- by daubing their fingers, would transfer the ink to their face whenever they leaned their cheek upon their hand for greater gravity. As to the matrons, to prevent an eter- nal prattle that would drown all man- ner of intelligibility, I found it abso- lutely necessary to sew up their mouths ; so that between the blind judges and the dumb matrons, methought the trial had a chance of being terminated sooner than it otherwise would. The matrons, instead of their tongues, had other instruments to convey their ideas: each of them had three quizzes, one quiz pendant from the string that sewed up her mouth, and ano- ther quiz in either hand. When she wished to express her negative, she darted and recoiled the quizzes in her right and left hand : and when she desired to ex- press her affirmative, she, nodding, made the quiz pendant from her mouth flow down and recoil again. The trial pro- ceeded in this manner for a long time, to the admiration of the whole empire, when at length I thought proper to send to my old friend and ally, Prester John, entreat- ing him to forward to me one of the spe TRAVELS AND ADVENTURES OF BARON MUNCHAUSEN. 245 eimens of wild and curious birds found in his kingdom, called a Wauwau. This creature was brought over the great bridge before mentioned, from the interior of Africa, by a balloon. The balloon was placed upon the bridge, extending over the parapets on each side, with great wings or oars to assist its velocity, and under the balloon was placed pendant a kind of boat, in which were the persons to man- age the steerage of the machine, and pro- tect Wauwau. This oracular bird, arriving in Eng- land, instantly darted through one of the windows of the great hall, and perched upon the canopy in the centre, to the ad- miration of all present. Her cackling appeared quite prophetic and oracular; and the first question proposed to her, by the unanimous consent of the matrons and judges, was, Whether or not the Moon was composed of green cheese? The solution of this question was deemed absolutely necessary before they could proceed farther on the trial. Wauwau seemed in figure not very much differing from a swan, except that the neck was not near so long, and she stood after an admirable fashion like to Vestris. She began cackling most sonorously, and the whole assembly agreed that it was absolutely necessary to catch her, and having her in their immediate possession, nothing more would be requisite for the termination of this litigated affair. For this purpose the whole house rose up to catch her, and approached in tumult, the judges brandishing their pens, and shak- ing their big wigs, and the matrons quiz- zing as much as possible in every direc- tion, which very much startled Wauwau, who, clapping her wings, instantly flew out of the hall. The assembly began to proceed af- ter her in order and style of prece- dence, together with my whole train of Gog and Magog, Sphinx, Hilaro Fros- ticos, Queen Mab's chariot, the bulls and crickets, etc., preceded by bands of music ; while Wauwau, descending on the earth, ran on like an ostrich before the troop, cackling all the way. Thinking suddenly to catch this ferocious animal, the judges and matrons would suddenly quicken their pace, but the creature would as quick outrun them, or sometimes fly away for many miles together, and then alight to take breath until we came within sight of her again. Our train journeyed over a most prodigious tract of country, in a di- rect line, over hills and dales, to the sum- mit of Plinlimmon, where we thought to have seized Wauwau ; but she instantly took flight, and never ceased until she ar- rived at the mouth of the Potomac river in Virginia. Our company immediately embarked in the machines before described, in which we had journeyed into Africa, and after a few days' sail arrived in North America. We met with nothing curious on our voy- age, except a floating island, containing some very delightful villages, inhabited by a few whites and negroes ; the sugar- cane did not thrive there well, on account, as I was informed, of the variety of the climates ; the island being sometimes driven up as far as the north pole, and at other times wafted under the equinoctial. In pity to the poor islanders, I got a huge stake of iron, and driving it through the centre of the island, fastened it to the mud and rocks at the bottom of the sea, since which time the island has become sta- tionary, and is well known at present by the name of St. Christopher's, and there is not an island in the world more se- cure. Arriving in North America, we were received by the President of the United States with every honor and politeness. He was pleased to give us all the infor- mation possible relative to the woods and immense regions of America, and ordered troops of the different tribes of the Esqui- maux to guide us through the forests in pursuit of Wauwau, who, we at length found, had taken refuge in the centre of a morass. The inhabitants of the country, who loved hunting, were much delighted to behold the manner in which we at- tempted to seize upon Wauwau ; the chase was noble and uncommon. I determined to surround the animal on every side, and for this purpose ordered the judges and matrons to surround the morass with nets extending a mile in height, on various parts of which net the company disposed themselves, floating in the air like so many spiders upon their cobwebs. Magog, at my command, put on a kind of armor that he had carried with him for the pur- pose, corslet of steel, with gauntlets, hel- mets, etc., so as nearly to resemble a mole. 246 TRAVELS AND ADVENTURES OF BARON MUNCHAUSEN. He instantly plunged into the earth, making way with his sharp steel head- piece, and tearing up the ground with his iron-claws, and found not much difficulty therein, as morass in general is of a soft and yielding texture. Thus he hoped to undermine Wauwau, and suddenly rising, seize her by the foot, while his brother Gog ascended the air in a balloon, hoping to catch her if she should escape Magog. Thus the animal was surrounded on every side, and at first was very much terrified, knowing not which way she had best to go. At length hearing 'an obscure noise under ground, Wauwau took flight before Magog could have time to catch her by the foot. She flew to the right, then to the left, north, east, west, and south, but found on every side the company prepared upon their nets. At length she flew right up, soaring at a most astonishing rate to- wards the sun, while the company on every side set up one general acclamation. But Gog in his balloon soon stopped Wau- wau in the midst of her career, and snared her in a net the cords of which he con- tinued to hold in his hand. Wauwau did not totally lose her presence of mind, but, after a little consideration, made several violent darts against the volume of the balloon ; so fierce, as at length to tear open a great space, on which the inflam- mable air rushing out, the whole appara- tus began to tumble to the earth with amazing rapidity. Gog himself was thrown out of the vehicle, and letting go the reins of the net, Wauwau got liberty again, and flew out of sight in an in- stant. Gog had been above a mile elevated from the earth when he began to fall, and as he advanced the rapidity increased, so that he went like a ball from a cannon into the morass, and his nose striking against one of the iron-capped hands of his brother Magog, just then rising from the depths, he began to bleed violently, and, but for the softness of the morass, would hve lost his life. CHAPTER XXXII. THE BARON HARANGUES THE COMPANY, AND THEY CONTINUE THE PURSUIT THB BARON, WANDERING FROM HIS RETINUE, IS TAKEN BY THE SAVAGES, SCALPED, AND TIED TO A STAKE TO BE ROASTED, BUT HE CONTRIVES TO EXTRICATE HIMSELF, AND KILLS THE SAVAGES THE BARON TRAVELS OVERLAND THROUGH THE FORESTS OF NORTH AMERICA TO THE CONFINES OP RUSSIA ARRIVES AT THE CASTLE OF THB NARESKIN ROWSKIMOWMOWSKY. AND GAL- LOPS INTO THE KINGDOM OF LOGGERHEADS A BATTLE, IN WHICH THE BARON FIGHTS THE NARESKIN IN SINGLE COMBAT, AND GENEROUSLY GIVES HIM HIS LIFE AR- RIVES AT THE FRIENDLY ISLANDS AND DIS- COURSES WITH OMAI THE BARON, WITH ALL HIS ATTENDANTS, GOES FROM OTA- HEITE TO THE ISTHMUS OF DARIEN, AND HAVING CUT A CANAL ACROSS THE ISTH- MUS, RETURNS TO ENGLAND. " MY friends, and very learned and profound Judiciarii," said I, " be not din- heartened that Wauwau has escaped from you at present: persevere, and we shall yet succeed. You should never despair, Munchausen being your general ; and therefore be brave, be courageous, and fortune shall second your endeavors. Let us advance undaunted in pursuit, and follow the fierce Wauwau even three times round the globe, until we entrap her.'' My words filled them with confidence and valor, and they unanimously agreed to continue the chase. We penetrated the frightful deserts and gloomy woods of America, beyond the source of the Ohio, through countries utterly unknown be- fore. I frequently took the diversion of shooting in the woods, and one day that I happened with three attendants to wan- der far from our troop, we were suddenly set upon by a number of savages. As we had expended our powder and shot, and happened to have no side arms, it was in vain to make any resistance against hun- dreds of enemies. In short, they bound us, and made us walk before them to a gloomy cavern in a rock, where they feast- ed upon what game they had killed, but which, not being sufficient, they took my three unfortunate companions and myself, and scalped us. The pain of losing the flesh from my head was most horrible ; it made me leap in agonies, and roar like a bull. They then tied us to stakes, and making great fires around us, began to TRAVELS AND ADVENTURES OF BARON MUNCHAUSEN. 247 dance in a circle, singing with much dis- tortion and barbarity, and at times put- ting the palms of their hands to their mouths, set up the war-whoop. As they had on that day also made a great prize of some wine and spirits belonging to our troop, these barbarians, finding it deli- cious, and, unconscious of its intoxicating quality, began to drink it in profusion, while they beheld us roasting, and in a very short time they were all completely drunk, and fell asleep around the fires. Perceiving some hopes, I used most aston- ishing efforts to extricate myself from the cords with which I was tied, and at length succeeded. I immediately unbound my companions, and though half roasted, they still had power enough to walk. We sought about for the flesh that had been taken off our heads, and having found the scalps, we immediately adapted them to our bloody heads, sticking them on with a kind of glue of a sovereign quality, that flows from a tree in that country, and the parts united and healed in a few hours. We took good care to revenge ourselves on the savages, and with their own hatch- ets put every one of them to death. We then returned to our troop, who had given us up for lost, and they made great rejoic- ings on our return. We now proceeded in our journey through this prodigious wilderness, Gog and Magog acting as pio- neers, hewing down the trees, etc., at a great rate as we advanced. We passed over numberless swamps and lakes and rivers, until at length we discovered a hab- itation at some distance. It appeared a dark and gloomy castle, surrounded with strong ramparts, and a broad ditch. We called a council of war, and it was deter- mined to send a deputation with a trum- pet to the walls of the castle, and demand friendship from the governor, whoever he might be, and an account if aught he knew of Wauwau. For this purpose our caravan halted in the wood, and Gog and Magog reclined amongst the trees, that their enormous strength and size should not be discovered, and give umbrage to the lord of the castle. Our embassy ap- proached the castle, and having demanded admittance for some time, at length the drawbridge was let down and they were suffered to enter. As soon as they had passed the gate, it was immediately closed after them, and on either side they per- ceived ranks of halberdiers, who made them tremble with fear. " We come," the herald proclaimed, " on the part of Hilaro Frosticos, Don Quixote, Lord Whitting- ton, and the thrice-renowned Baron Mun- chausen, to claim friendship from the governor of this puissant castle, and to seek Wauwau." ''The most noble the governor," replied an officer, ''is at all times happy to entertain such travellera as pass through these immense deserts, and will esteem it an honor that the great Hilaro Frosticos, Don Quixote, Lord Whit- tington, and the thrice-renowned Baron Munchausen, enter his castle walls." In short, we entered the castle. The governor sat with all our company to table, surrounded by his friends, of a very fierce and warlike appearance. They spoke but little, and seemed very austere and reserved, until the first course was served up. The dishes were brought in by a number of bears, walking on their hind- legs, and on every dish was a fricassee of pistols, pistol-bullets, sauce of gunpowder and aqua-vitae. This entertainment seemed rather indigestible by even an ostrich's stomach, when the governor ad- dressed us, and informed me that it was ever his custom to strangers to offer them for the first course a service similar to that before us, and if they were inclined to ac- cept the invitation, he would fight them as much as they pleased, but if they could not relish the pistol-bullets, etc., he would conclude them peaceable, and try what better politeness he could show them in his castle. In short, the first course being removed untouched, we dined, and after dinner the governor forced the company to push the oottle about with alacrity and to excess. He informed us that he was the Nareskin Eowskimowmowsky, who had retired amidst these wilds, disgusted with the court of Petersburg. I was re- joiced to meet him ; I recollected my old friend, whom I had known at the court of Russia when I rejected the hand of the empress. The Nareskin, with all his knights-companions, drank to an astonish- ing degree, and we all set off upon hobby horses, in full cry, out of the castle. Never was there seen such a cavalcade before. In front galloped a hundred knights be- longing to the castle, with hunting horns and a pack of excellent dogs ; and then came the Nareskin Rowskimowmowsky, Gog and Magog, Hilaro Frosticos, and your humble servant, hallooing and 243 TRAVELS AND ADVENTURES OF BARON MUNCHAUSEN. shouting like so many demoniacs, and spurring our hobby horses at an infernal rate until we arrived in the kingdom of Loggerheads. The kingdom of Loggerheads was wilder than any part of Siberia, and the Nareskin had here built a romantic summer-house, in a Gothic taste, to which he would fre- quently retire with his company after dinner. The Nareskin had a dozen bears of enormous stature that danced for our amusement, and their chiefs performed the minuet de la, cour to admiration. And here the most noble Hilaro Frosticos thought proper to ask the Nareskin some intelligence about Wauwau, in quest of whom we had travelled over such a tract of country, and encountered so many dangerous adventures, and also invited the Nareskin, Bowskimowmowsky to at- tend us with all his bears in the expedi- tion. The Nareskin appeared astonished at the idea; he looked with infinite hauteur and ferocity on Hilaro, and affecting violent passion, asked him, " Did he imagine that the Nareskin Row- skimowmowsky could condescend to take notice of a Wauwau, let her fly what way she could ? Or did he think a chief pos- sessing such blood in his veins could en- gage in such a foreign pursuit? By the blood of all the bears in the kingdom of Loggerheads, and by the ashes of my great-great-grandmother I would cut off your head !" Hilaro Frosticos resented this oration, and in short a general riot commenced. The bears, together with the hundred knights, took the part of the Nareskin, and Gog and Magog, Don Quixote, the Sphinx, Lord Whittington, the bulls, the crickets, the judges, the matrons, and Hilaro Frosticos, made noble warfare against them. I drew my sword, and challenged the Nareskin to single combat. He frowned, while his eyes sparkled fire and indig- nation, and bracing a buckler on his left arm, he advanced against me. I made a blow at him with all my force, which he received upon his buckler, and my sword broke short. Ungenerous Nareskin ! seeing me dis- armed, he still pushed forward, dealing his blows upon me with the utmost vio- lence, which I parried with my shield and the hilt of my broken sword, and fought like a game-cock. An enormous bear at the same time at- tacked me, but I ran my hand still re- taining the hilt of my broken sword down his throat, and tore up his tongue by the roots. I then seized his carcass by the hind legs, and whirling it over my head, gave the Nareskin such a blow with his own bear as evidently stunned him. I re- peated my blows, knocking the bear's head against the Nareskin's head, until, by one happy blow, I got his head into the bear's jaws, and the creature being still some- what alive and convulsive, the teeth closed upon him like nut-crackers. I threw the bear from me, but the Nareskin remained sprawling, unable to extricate his head from the bear's jaws, imploring for mercy. I gave the wretch his life ; a lion preys not upon carcasses. At the same time my troop had effectu- ally routed the bears and the rest of their adversaries. I was merciful, and ordered quarter to be given. At the moment I perceived Wauwau flying at a great height through the hea- vens, and we instantly set out in pursuit of her, and never stopped until we arrived at Kamschatka ; thence we passed to Otaheite. I met my old acquaintance Omai, who had been in England with the great navigator, Cook, and I was glad to find he had established Sunday-schools over all the islands. I talked to him of Europe, and his former voyage to England. "Ah!" said he, most emphatically, "the English, the cruel English, to murder me with goodness, and refine upon my tor- ture took me to Europe, and showed me the court of England, the delicacy of ex- quisite life : they showed me gods, and showed me heaven, as if on purpose to make me feel the loss of them." From these islands, we set out, attended by a fleet of canoes with fighting-stages and the chiefest warriors of the islands, commanded by Omai. Thus the chariot of Queen Mab, my team of bulls, and the crickets, the ark, the Sphinx, and the balloons, with Hilaro Frosticos, Gog and Magog, Lord Whittington, and the Lord Mayor's show, Don Quixote, etc., with my fleet of canoes, altogether cut a very for- midable appearance on our arrival at the Isthmus of Darien. Sensible of what general benefit it would be to mankind, 1 immediately formed a plan of cutting a canal across the isthmus from sea to sea. TRAVELS AND ADVENTURES OF BARON MUNCH AUSEN. 249 For this purpose I drove my chariot with the greatest impetuosity repeatedly from shore to shore, in the same track, tearing up the rocks and earth thereby, and forming a tolerable bed for the water. Gog and Magog next advanced at the head of a million of people from the realms of North and South America, and from Europe, and with infinite labor cleared away the earth, etc., that I had ploughed up with my chariot. I then again drove my chariot, making the canal wider and deeper, and ordered Gog and Magog to re- peat their labor as before. The canal being a quarter of a mile broad, and three hundred yards in depth, I thought it sufficient, and immediately let in the waters of the sea. I did imagine, that from the rotatory motion of the earth on its axis from west to east, the sea would be higher on the eastern than the western coast, and that on the uniting of the two seas there would be a strong current from the east, and it happened just as I ex- pected. The sea came in with tremendous magnificence, and enlarged the bounds of the canal, so as to make a passage of some miles broad from ocean to ocean, and make an island of South America. Several sail of trading vessels and men-of-war sailed through this new channel to the South Seas, China, etc., and saluted me with all their cannon as they passed. I looked through my telescope at the Moon, and perceived the philosophers there in great commotion. They could plainly discern the alteration on the sur- face of our globe, and thought themselves somehow interested in the enterprize of their fellow-mortals in a neighboring planet. They seemed to think it admir- able that such little beings as we men should attempt so magnificent a perfor- mance, that would be observable even in a separate world. Thus, having wedded the Atlantic Ocean to the South Sea, I returned to England, and found Wauwau precisely in the very spot whence she had set out, after having led us a chase all round the world. CHAPTER XXXIII. THE BARON GOES TO PETERSBURG AND CON- VERSES WITH THE EMPRESS PERSUADES THE RUSSIANS AND TURKS TO CEASE CUT- TING ONE ANOTHER'S THROATS, AND IN CONCERT CUT A CANAL ACROSS THE ISTH- MUS OP SUEZ THE BARON DISCOVERS THE ALEXANDRINE LIBRARY, AND MEETS WITH HERMES TRISMEGISTUS BESIEGES SERIN- GAPATAM, AND CHALLENGES TIPPOO SAIB TO SINGLE COMBAT THEY FIGHT THE BARON RECEIVES SOME WOUNDS ON HIS FACE, BUT AT LENGTH VANQUISHES THE TYRANT THE BARON RETURNS TO EUROPE, AND RAISES THE HULL OF THE " ROYAL GEORGE." SEIZED with a fury of canal cutting, I took it in my head to form an immediate communication between the Mediter- ranean and the Ked Sea, and therefore set out for Petersburg. The sanguinary ambition of the Em- press would not listen to my proposals, until I took a private opportunity, taking a cup of coffee with her majesty, to tell her that I would absolutely sacrifice myself for the general good of mankind, and if she would accede to my proposals, would, on the completion of the canal, ipso facto, give her my hand in marriage. " My dear, dear Baron," said she, " I accede to everything you please, and agree to make peace with the Porte on the conditions you mention. And," added she, rising with all the majesty of the Czarina, Empress of half the world, " be it known to all subjects, that we ordain these conditions, for such is our royal will and pleasure." I now proceeded to the Isthmus of Suez, at the head of a million of Russian pioneers, and there united my forces with a million of Turks, armed with shovels and pickaxes. They did not come to cut each other's throats but for their mutual interest, to facilitate commerce and civili- zation, and pour all the wealth of India by a new channel into Europe. "My brave fellows," said I, " consider the im- mense labor of the Chinese to build their celebrated wall ; think of what superior benefit to mankind is our present under- taking ; persevere, and fortune will second your endeavors. Remember it is Mun- chausen who leads you on, and be con- vinced of success." Saying these words, I drove my chariot with all my might in my former track, 250 TRAVELS AND ADVENTURES OF BARON MUXCHAUSEN. that vestige mentioned by the Baron de Tott, and when I was advanced consider- ably, I felt my chariot sinking under me. I attempted to drive on, but the ground, or rather immense vault, giving way, my chariot and all went down precipitately. Stunned by the fall, I was some moments before I could recollect myself, when at length, to my amazement, I perceived my- self fallen into the Alexandrine Library, overwhelmed in an ocean of books ; thou- sands of volumes came tumbling on my head amidst the ruins of that part of the vault through which my chariot had de- scended, and for a time buried my bulls, and all beneath a heap of learning. How- ever, I contrived to extricate myself, and advanced with awful admiration through the vast avenues of the library. I per- ceived on every side innumerable volumes and repositories of ancient learning, and all the science of the Antediluvian world. Here I met with Hermes Trismegistus, and a parcel of old philosophers debating upon the politics and learning of their days. I gave them inexpressible delight in telling them, in a few words, all the discoveries of Newton, and the history of the world since their time. These gentry, on the contrary, told me a thousand stories of antiquity that some of our antiquarians would give their very eyes to hear. In short, I ordered the library to be preserved, and I intend making a present of it, as soon as it arrives in England, to the Royal Society, together with Hermes Trismegistus, and half a dozen old philos- ophers. I have got a beautiful cage made, in which I keep these extraordinary crea- tures, and feed them with bread and honey, as they seem to believe in a kind of doctrine of transmigration, and will not touch flesh. Hermes Trismegistus espe- cially is a most antique-looking being, with a beard half a yard long, covered with a robe of golden embroidery, and prates like a parrot. He will cut a very brilliant figure in the Museum. Having made a track with my chariot from sea to sea, I ordered my Turks and Russians to begin, and in a few hours we had the pleasure of seeing a fleet of British East Indiamen in full sail through the canal. The officers of this fleet were very polite, and paid me every applause and congratulation my exploits could merit. They told me of their affairs in India, and the ferocity of that dreadful warrior, Tippoo Saib, on which I resolved to go to India and encounter the tyrant. I travelled down the Red Sea to Madras, and at the head of a few Sepoys and Europeans pur- sued the flying army of Tippoo to the gates of Seringapatam. I challenged him to mortal combat, and, mounted on my steed, rode up to the walls of the fortress amidst a storm of shells and cannon-balls. As fast as the bombs and cannon-balls came upon me, I caught them in my hands like so many pebbles, and throwing them against the fortress demolished the strongest ramparts of the place ; I took my mark so direct that whenever I aimed a cannon-bail or a shell at any person on the ramparts I was sure to hit him : and one time perceiving a tremendous piece of artillery pointed against me, and know- ing the ball must be so great it would certainly stun me, I took a small cannon- ball, and just as I perceived the engineer going to order them to fire, and opening his mouth to give the word of command, I took aim, and drove my ball precisely down his throat. Tippoo, fearing that all would be lost, that a general and successful storm would ensue if I continued to batter the place, came forth upon his elephant to fight me ; I saluted him, and insisted he should fire first. Tippoo, though a barbarian, was not deficient in politeness, and declined the compliment ; upon which I took off my hat, and bowing, told him it was an ad- vantage Munchausen should never be said to accept from so gallant a warrior : on which Tippoo instantly discharged his carbine, the ball from which, hitting my horse's ear, made him plunge with rage and indignation. In return I discharged my pistol at Tippoo, and shot off his tur- ban. He had a small field-piece mounted with him on his elephant, which he then discharged at me, and the grape-shot coming in a shower, rattled in the laurels that covered and shaded me all over, and remained pendant like berries on the branches. I then advancing took the proboscis of his elephant, and turning it against the rider, struck him repeatedly with the extremity of it on either side of the head, until I at length dismounted him. Nothing could equal the rage of the barbarian finding himself thrown from his elephant. He rose in a fit of despair, and rushed against my steed and myself; TRAVELS AND ADVENTURES OF BARON MUNCHAUSEN. 251 but I scorned to fight him at so great a disadvantage on his side, and directly dis- mounted to fight him hand to hand. Never did I fight with any man who bore himself more nobly than this adversary ; he parried my blows, and dealt home his own in return with astonishing pre- cision. The first blow of his sabre I received upon the bridge of my nose, and but for the bony firmness of that part of my face, it would have descended to my mouth. I shall bear the mark upon my nose. He next made a furious blow at my head, but I, parrying, deadened the force of his sabre, so that I received but one scar on my forehead, and at the same in- stant, by a blow of my sword, cut off his arm, and his hand and sabre fell to the earth; he tottered for some paces, and dropped at the foot of his elephant. That sagacious animal, seeing the danger of his master, endeavored to protect him by flourishing his proboscis round the head of the Sultan. Fearless I advanced against the ele- phant, desirous to take alive the haughty Tippoo Saib : but he drew a pistol from his belt, and discharged it full in my face as I rushed upon him, which did me no further harm than wound my cheek-bone, which disfigures me somewhat under my left eye. I could not withstand the rage and impulse of that moment, and with one blow of my sword separated his head from his body. I returned overland from India to Eu- rope with admirable velocity, so that the account of Tippoo's defeat by me has not as yet arrived by the ordinary passage, nor can you expect to hear of it for a con- siderable time. I simply relate the en- counter as it happened between the Sultan and me; and if there be any one who doubts the truth of what I say, he is an infidel, and I will fight him at any time and place, and with any weapon he pleases. Hearing so many persons talk about raising the " Royal George," I began to take pity on that fine old ruin of British plank, and determined to have her up. I was sensible of the failure of the various means hitherto employed for the purpose, and therefore inclined to try a method different from any before attempted. I got an immense balloon, made of the tough- est sail-cloth, and having descended in my diving-bell, and properly secured the hull with enormous cables, I ascended to the surface, and fastened my cables to the balloon. Prodigious multitudes were as- sembled to behold the elevation of the " Royal George,' 1 and as soon as I began to fill my balloon with inflammable air the vessel evidently began to move : but when my balloon was completely filled, she carried up the " Royal George '' with the greatest rapidity. The vessel appear- ing on the surface occasioned a universal shout of triumph from the millions assem- bled on the occasion. Still the balloon continued ascending, trailing the hull after like a lantern at the tail of a kite, and in a few minutes appeared floating among the clouds. It was then the opinion of many philo- sophers that it would be more difficult to get her down than it had been to draw her up. But I convinced them to the con- trary by taking my aim so exactly with a twelve-pounder, that I brought her down in an instant. I considered, that if I should break the balloon with a cannon-ball while she re- mained with the vessel over the land, the fall would inevitably occasion the destruc- tion of the hull, and which, in its fall, might crush some of the multitude : there- fore I thought it safer to take my aim when the balloon was over the sea, and, pointing my twelve-pounder, drove the ball right through the balloon ; on which the inflammable air rushed out with great foroe, and the " Royal George " descended like a falling star into the very spot from whence she had been taken. There she still remains, and I have convinced all Europe of the possibility of taking her up. CHAPTER XXXIV. THE BARON MAKES A SPEECH TO THE NA- TIONAL ASSEMBLY, AND DRIVES OUT ALL THE MEMBERS ROUTS THE FISHWOMEN AND THE NATIONAL GUARDS PURSUES THE WHOLE ROUT INTO A CHURCH, WHERE HE DEFEATS THE NATIONAL ASSEMBLY, ETC., WITH ROUSSEAU, VOLTAIRE AND BEEL- ZEBUB AT THEIR HEAD, AND LIBERATES MARIE ANTOINETTE AND THE ROYAL FAMILY. PASSING through Switzerland on my return from India, I was informed that several of the German nobility had been 252 TRAVELS AND ADVENTURES OF BARON MUNCHAUSEN. deprived of the honors and immunities of their French estates. I heard of the suf- ferings of the amiable Marie Antoinette, and swore to avenge every look that had threatened her with insult. I went to the cavern of these Anthropophagi, as- sembled to debate, and gracefully putting the hilt of my sword to my lips " I swear," cried I, " by the sacred cross of my sword, that if you do not instantly re- instate your king and his nobility, and your injured queen, I will cut the one-half of you to pieces." On which the President, taking up a leaden inkstand, flung it at my head. I stooped to avoid the blow, and rushing to the tribunal seized the Speaker, who was fulminating against the Aristocrats, and taking the creature by one leg, flung him at the President. I laid about me most nobly, drove them all out of the house, and, locking the doors, put the key in my pocket. I then went to the poor king, and mak- ing my obeisance to him " Sire,"' said I, " your enemies have all fled. I alone am the National Assembly at present, and I shall register your edicts to recall the princes and the nobility ; and in future, if your majesty pleases, I will be your Pre- sident and Council." He thanked me, and the amiable Marie Antoinette, smil- ing, gave me her hand to kiss. At that moment I perceived a party of the National Assembly, who had rallied with the National Guards, and a vast pro- cession of iishwomen, advancing against me. I deposited their Majesties in a place of safety, and with my drawn sword ad- vanced against my foes. Three hundred fish worn en, with bushes dressed with rib- bons in their hands, came hallooing and roaring against me like so many furies ; I scorned to defile my sword with their blood ; but seized the first that came up, and making her kneel down I knighted her with my sword, which so terrified the rest that they all set up a frightful yell and ran away as fast as they could for fear of being aristocrated by knighthood. As to the National Guards and the rest of the Assembly, I soon put them to flight ; and having made prisoners of some of them, compelled them to take down their national, and put the old royal cockade in its place. I then pursued the enemy to the top of a hill, where a most noble edifice dazzled my sight ; noble and sacred it wag, but now converted to the vilest purposes, their monument de grands hommes, a Christian church that these Saracens had perverted into abomination. I burst open the doors, and entered sword in hand. Here I observed all the National Assem- bly marching round a great altar erected to Voltaire ; there was his statue in tri- umph, .and the fishwomen with garlands decking it, and singing " Ca ira I " I could bear the sight no longer: but rushed upon these pagans, and sacrificed them by dozens on the spot. The members of the Assembly, and the fishwomen, con- tinued to invoke their great Voltaire, and all their masters in this monument de grands hommes, imploring them to come down and succor them against the Aris- tocrats and the sword of Munchausen. Their cries were horrible, like the shrieks of witches and enchanters versed in magic and the black art, while the thunder growled, and storms shook the battle- ments, and Eousseau, Voltaire, and Beel- zebub appeared, three horrible spectres ; one all meagre, mere skin and bone, and cadaverous, seemed death, that hideous skeleton : it was Voltaire, and in his hand were a lyre and a dagger. On the other side was Rousseau, with a chalice of sweet poison in his hand, and between them was their father Beelzebub. I shuddered at the sight, and with all the enthusiasm of rage, horror, and piety, rushed in among them. I seized that cursed skeleton, Voltaire, and soon com- pelled him to renounce all the errors he had advanced; and while he spoke the words, as if by magic charm, the whole assembly shrieked, and their pandemo- nium began to tumble in hideous ruin on their heads. I returned in triumph to the palace, where the Queen rushed into my arms, weeping tenderly. " Ah, thou flower of nobility," cried she, " were all the nobles of France like thee, we should never have been brought to this ! " I bade the lovely creature dry her eyes, and with the King and Dauphin ascend my carriage and drive post to Mont-Medi, as not an instant was to be lost. They took my advice and drove away. I con- veyed them within a few miles of Mont- Medi, when the King, thanking me for my assistance, hoped I would not trouble myself any farther, as he was then, he pre- THE LITTLE HATCHET STORY. 253 Burned, out of danger; and the Queen also, with tears in her eyes, thanked me on her knees, and presented the Dauphin for my blessing. In short, I left the King eating a mutton-chop. I advised him not to delay, or he would certainly be taken, and setting spurs to my horse, wished them a good evening and returned to England. If the King remained too long at table, and was taken, it was not my fault. END OF BARON MUNCHAUSEN. DEACON DODD. DEACON DODD once feelingly said, About his Betsy, long since dead, " If ever an angel loved a man, That angel, sir, was Betsy Ann ; tf I happened to scold her, she was so meek, ( Which the Deacon did seven times a week I ) She'd clap her apron up to her eye, And never say nothin', but only cry." But, ladies, p'rhaps you'd like to be told, That Deacon Dodd, like other men, Waited a year, and married again; But he married a most inveterate scold. And now 'tis the Deacon's turn to be meek, As he gets well rasped from week to week ! But rather than "open his head" he'd burst, He wishes the second was with the first I But as she's as tough as a hickory limb, No doubt she'll live to say of him, " If ever a saint the footstool trod, That man that saint was Deacon Dodd." Country Love and City Life. THE LITTLE HATCHET STORY : WITH OCCASIONAL QUESTIONS BY A FIVE-YEAR-OLD HEARER. AND so, smiling, we went on. " Well, one day, George's father " " George who ? " asked Clarence. " George Washington. He was a little boy, then, just like you. One day his father" "Whose father?" demanded Clarence, with an encouraging expression of in- terest. " George Washington's ; this great man we are telling you of. One day George Washington's father gave him a littlo hatchet for a '' " Gave who a little hatchet?" the dear child interrupted with a gleam of be- witching intelligence. Most men would have got mad, or betrayed signs of im- patience, but we didn't. We know how to talk to children. So we went on : " George Washington. His " " Who gave him the little hatchet?" " His father. And his father" "Whose father?" " George Washington's." "Oh!" "Yes, George Washington. And his father told him " "Told who?" "Told George." " Oh, yes, George.'* And we went on, just as patient and as pleasant as you could imagine. We took up the story right where the boy interrupted, for we could see he was just crazy to hear the end of it. We said : " And he was told " " George told him ? " queried Clarence " No, his father told George" "Oh!" " Yes ; told him he must be careful with the hatchet- " "Who must be careful?" " George must." "Oh!" " Yes ; must be careful with his hatchet _ "What hatchet?" "Why, George's." "Oh!" " With the hatchet, and not cut himself with it, or drop it in the cistern, or leave it out in the grass all night. So George went round cutting everything he could reach with his hatchet. And at last he came to a splendid apple-tree, his father's favorite, and cut it down and " "Who cut it down?" " George did." " Oh ! " " But his father came home and saw it the first thing, and " "Saw the hatchet?" " No, saw the apple-tree. And he said, Who has cut down my favorite apple- tree ? " "What apple-tree?" "George's father's. And everybody said they didn't know anything about it and " 864 A QUEEE POET. " Anything about what ? " " The apple-tree." "Oh I" " And George came up and heard them talking about it " " Heard who talking about it? " " Heard his father and the men." " What were they talking about?" " About this apple-tree." "What apple-tree?" "The favorite tree that George cut down." " George who ? " " George Washington." "Oh!" " So George came up and heard them talking about it, and he " " What did he cut it down for ? " " Just to try his little hatchet." " Whose little hatchet? " " Why, his own, the one his father gave him." "Gave who?" " Why, George Washington.'* "Oh I" "So George came up and he said, 1 Father, I cannot tell a lie, I ' " "Who couldn't tell a lie?" " Why, George Washington. He said, ' Father, I cannot tell a lie. It was ' " "His father couldn't?" "Why, no ; George couldn't." "Oh I George? oh, yes!" " ' It was I cut down your apple-tree : I did' " "His father did?" " No, no ; it was George said this." " Said he cut his father ?" ''No, no, no; said he cut down his apple-tree.'* George's apple-tree ? " " No, no ; his father's." "Oh!" " He said" "His father said?" " No, no, no ; George said. * Father, I cannot tell a lie, I did it with my little hatchet.' And his father said : ' Noble boy, I would rather lose a thousand trees than have you tell a lie.' " "George did?" " No, his father said that." "Said he'd rather have a thousand apple-trees?" "No, no, no; said he'd rather lose a thousand apple-trees than " " Said he'd rather George would ? " " No, said he'd rather he would than have him lie." "Oh I George would rather have hit father lie?" We are patient and we love children, but if Mrs. Caruthers hadn't come and got her prodigy at that critical juncture, we don't believe all Burlington could have pulled us out of the snarl. And as Clarence Alencon de Marchemont Caruthers pat- tered down the stairs we heard him telling his ma about a boy who had a father named George, and he told him to cut down an apple-tree, and he said he'd rather tell a thousand lies than cut down one apple-tree. ROBKKT J. BURDETT*. A QUEER POET. A WHITER in Oliver Optic's Magazine, speaking of the poet Milnes, says : " Many, many stories are told of his peculiarities, among which is an occasional indulgence iu a childish affectation, which would al- most amount to imbecility, if it were not assumed. I remember two instances, which, both happening on the same even- ing, raised a good laugh at his expense. The first of these niaiseries consisted in entering the room, in which a large party was gathered beneath the hospitable roof of Mrs. Basil Montague, accoutred in hia court dress, with sword, and all the other 'fixin's,' as the Yankees would say, of that absurd and pretentious uniform. Observing two very charming ladies, with whom he had not the slightest acquaint- ance, seated on a couch at one end of the room, engaged evidently in a tete-a-tdte, 'the member for Parnassus,' as Daniel O'Connell once scornfully termed him in the House of Commons, advanced to where they were seated, and adjusting his sword, he knelt midway between them, listened blandly to their conversation, first turning to one and then to the other, and joining in as a sort of Greek chorus on a diminutive scale. Mrs. Basil Mon- tague, with whom Milnes was an especial favorite, saw the peril of her pet, and rushed to his rescue. " My dear lady Dash, and my dear lady Dish " (we think it necessary to add that these are not the real names of the " fair astonished," there being no such titles in Debrett's Peerage,) "don't be alarmed This is uay young protigif (Mrs. Mon A SEASONABLE PHILANTHROPIST. 255 tague was old enough to be Milnes's grandmother), " Mr. Monckton Milnes. He won't hurt you ; but he is always doing the most absurd things in the world. But he is a dear fellow and writes the sweetest verses in the world. Pray send your album to him.'' Milnes took advantage of this little diversion in his favor, and rose to his feet, to be intro- duced to the hitherto astonished ladies. Sydney Smith, the great clerical wit, who was seated at a little distance, and had seen and heard all, observed to Leigh Hunt, with whom he was then engaged in conversation, "Well, my dear Hunt, I have often heard of the cool of the even- ing, but have never seen it till now ; and it is a great deal cooler than I had ima- gined." The second niaiserie of the member for Pontefract and Parnassus, on this special evening, happened only some half-hour afterwards, when, advancing to the great clerical wit, he said, " My dear Sydney, I promised the Arch- bishop of Canterbury to drop in at Mrs. Howley's reception to-night. If you are going, we may as well go together.'' "I am not invited," replied Sydney Smith ; " but I will give you a word of advice. I am very much flattered at your addressing me as Sydney ; but, for hea- ven's sake, don't call the Primate of all England ' Billy ;' he might not like it." Our readers must bear in mind that the private name of the Archbishop of Canterbury was "William Howley, 1 ' and that he was about eighty years old. A MUSICAL DUEL. THE following story is told of Mozart at the time when he was a pupil of Haydn: Haydn had challenged Mozart to compose a piece of music which he could not play at sight. Mozart accepted the banter, and a champagne supper was to be the forfeit. Everything being ar- ranged between the two composers, Mo- zart took his pen and a sheet of paper, and in five minutes dashed off a piece of music, and, much to the surprise of Haydn, handed it to him, saying, " There is a piece of music which you cannot play, and I can ; you are to give the first trial." Haydn smiled contemptuously at the visionary presumption of his pupil, and placing the notes before him, struck the keys of the instrument. Surprised at its simplicity he dashed away till he reached the middle of the piece, when, stopping all at once he exclaimed, " How's this, Mozart? How's this? Here my hands are stretched out to both ends of the piano, yet there is a middle key to be touched. Nobody can play such music, not even the composer himself." Mozart smiled at the half-excited indignation and perplexity of the great master, and taking the seat he had quitted, struck the instru- ment with such an air of self-assurance that Haydn began to think himself duped. Running along the simple passages, he came to that part which his teacher had pronounced impossible to be played. Mozart, it must be remarked, was favored, or at least endowed, with an extremely long nose. Reaching the difficult pas- sage, he stretched both hands to the ex- treme long ends of the piano, and, lean- ing forward, bobbed his nose against the middle key which nobody could play. Haydn burst into an immoderate fit of laughter, and after acknowledging he wa? beaten, he declared that Nature had en- dowed Mozart with a capacity for music which he had never discovered. A SEASONABLE PHILANTHRO- PIST. What does he do when sidewalks glare, And every brick seems but a snare To catch the passer unaware ? He spreads his ashes. And when down town we creeping go, And trembling tread a tottering row, With honest features all aglow, He spreads his ashes. Long may he live, that man of soul I Filled be his bin with red hot coal, Till halos crown his saintly poll Who spreads his ashes. And when he leaves this world of slides, And with grim death serenely glides, May this be heard, and naught besides " Peace to his ashes." KIP VAN WINKLE. RIP VAN WINKLE. A POSTHUMOUS WRITING OF DIEDRICH KNICKERBOCKER. By Woden, God of Saxons, From whence comes Wensday, that Is Wodensday, Truth is a thing that ever I will keep Unto thylke day in which I creep into My sepulchre. CARTWRIQHT. [WASHINGTOX IRVINO, one of the most distinguished of modern author*, and one of the earliest to shed lustre upon American letters, was born in New York city, April 3, 1783. His earliest literary productions were a number of letters on dramatic and social topics, con- tributed to The Morning Chronicle, under the nom de plume of " Jonathan Oldstyle." After some time de- voted to the study of law he travelled in Europe for the benefit of his health. Beturning in 1806, after an ab- sence of two years, he was admitted to the bar. The following year he began, in fellowship with his brother William, and James K. Paulding, the publication of a semi-monthly magazine, now famous as the Salmagundi, or the Whim- Whams and Opinions of Launcelot Lang- staff and others. In 1809 was published The History of N*w York, by Diedrlch Knickerbocker. Having no inclination for law, Mr. Irving engaged in commerce with his brother as a silent partner, but gave his time to literature. In 1815 he revisited England, and estab- lish,' I a friendship with Campbell and Walter Scott. While there the failure of his commercial house obliged him to employ his pen as a livelihood. The Sketch Boole, portions of which had appeared in New York, was offered to Murray and to Constable, but was declined by lx>th those publishers. Subsequently Murray took it at .200, which sum he afterwards increased to 400. It ivas originally published in 1820. The author was now famous at home and abroad ; and when Bracebridge Hall was ready (in 1822), Mr. Murray offered 1000 guineas for the copyright without having seen the MS. For the Chronicle of the Conquest of Granada (1829), he gave 2000, and for the History of the Life and Voyage of Cltrutopher Columbia (1831), 3000 guineas. Tales of a Traveller, by Geoffrey Crayon, appeared in 1824; and The Alhambra, in 1832. In 1829 Mr. Irving accepted the post of Secretary of Legation to the American Embassy at London. In 1830 he was honored with one of the two fifty-guinea gold medals ordered by George IV., to be presented to the two authors adjudged to have at- tained the highest excellence in historical composition ; and the following year he received from the University of Oxford the degree of LL.D. Arriving at New York, May 21st, 1832, after an absence of seventeen years, he met * reception which Edward Everett pronounced " the fairest triumph that has yet been accorded to literary desert in the New World." His subsequent publications wore a Tour on the Prairies (1836) ; Recollections of Ab- bolxford and Newstead Abbey ; Legends of the Conquest of i%>ai; Astoria (1836); Adventures of Capt. Bonnevilte, c. s. A. (1837) ; a number of Tales and Sketchei undw the title of Wolferfs Roost (1855) ; Biography and Poeti- cal Remains of Margaret Miller Davidson (1841) ; Oliver Goldsmith (1849) ; Mahomet and his Successors (1849-60) ; The Life of George Washinghni (1855-6). Edward Everett, advising the young aspirant after literary distinction, says : " If he wishes to study a style which possesses the characteristic beauties of Addisom, its ease, simplicity, and elegance, with greater accuracy, point and spirit, let him give his days and nights to the volumes of Irving." From 1842 to 1846, Mr. Irving was United States Min- ister to Spain. Returning home in the latter year, he spent the remaining years of his honored life in his charming retreat " Sunnyside," near Tarrytown, N. Y., on the bunki of the Hudson, where he died Nov. 28, 1859. He never married.] WHOEVER has made a voyage up the Hudson, must remember the Kaatskill mountains. They are a dismembered branch of the great Appalachian family, and are seen away to the west of the river, swelling up to a noble height, and lording it over the surrounding country. Every change of season, every change of weather, indeed, every hour of the day, produces some change in the magical hues and shapes of these mountains ; and they are regarded by all the good wives, far and near, as perfect barometers. When the weather is fair and settled, they are clothed in blue and purple, and print their bold outlines on the clear evening sky ; but sometimes, when the rest of the land- scape is cloudless, they will gather a hood of gray vapors about their summits, which, in the last rays of the setting sun, will glow and light up like a crown of glory. At the foot of these fairy mountains, the voyager may have descried the light smoke curling up from a village, whose shingle roofs gleam among the trees, just where the blue tints of the upland melt away into the fresh green of the nearer landscape. It is a little village of great an- tiquity, having been founded by some of the Dutch colonists, in the early times of the province, just about the beginning of the government of the good Peter Stuy- vesant (may he rest in peace!), and there were some of the houses of the original settlers standing within a few years, built of small yellow bricks brought from Hol- land, having latticed windows and gable fronts, surmounted with weathercocks. In that same village, and in one of these very houses (which to tell the precise RIP VAN WINKLE. 337 truth, was sadly time-worn and weather- beaten), there lived many years since, while the country was yet a province of Great Britain, a simple good-natured fel- low, of the name of Rip Van Winkle. He was a descendant of the Van Winkles who figured so gallantly in the chivalrous days of Peter Stuyvesant, and accompanied him to the siege effort Christina. He inherited, however, but little of the martial character of his ncestors. I have observed that he was a dimple good-natured man ; he was moreover a kind neighbor, and an obedi- ent henpecked husband. Indeed, to the latter circumstance might be owing that meekness of spirit which gained him such universal popularity ; for those men are most apt to be obsequious and conciliating abroad, who are under the discipline of shrews at home. Their tempers, doubtless, are rendered pliant and malleable in the fiery furnace of domestic tribulation, and a curtain lecture is worth all the sermons in the world for teaching the virtues of patience and long-suffering. A termagant wife may, therefore, in some respects, be considered a tolerable blessing ; and if so, Rip Van Winkle was thrice blessed. Certain it is, that he was a great favor- ite among all the good wives of the village, who, as usual with the amiable sex, took his part in all family squabbles, and never failed, whenever they talked those matters over in their evening gossipings, to lay all the blame on Dame Van Winkle. The children of the village, too, would shout with joy whenever he approached. He assisted at their sports, made their play- things, taught them to fly kites and shoot marbles, and told them long stories of ghosts, witches, and Indians. Whenever he went dodging about the village, he was surrounded by a troop of them, hanging on his skirts, clambering on his back, and playing a thousand tricks on him with im- punity ; and not a dog would bark at him throughout the neighborhood. The great error in Eip's composition was an insuperable aversion to all kinds of profitable labor. It could not be from the want of assiduity or perseverance ; for he would sit on a wet rock, with a rod as long and heavy as a Tartar's lance, and fish all day without a murmur, even though he should not be encouraged by a single nibble. He would carry a fowling- piece on his shoulder, for hours together, tiudging through woods and swamps, and VOL. n w. H. up hill and down dale, to shoot a few squirrels or wild pigeons. He would never refuse to assist a neighbor even in the roughest toil, and was a foremost man at all country frolics for husking Indian corn, or building stone fences. The women of the village, too, used to employ him to run their errands, and to do such little odd jobs as their less obliging husbands would not do for them ; in a word, Rip was ready to attend to anybody's business but his own ; but as to doing family duty, and keeping his farm in order, he found it impossible. In fact he declared it was no use to work on his farm ; it was the most pesti- lent little piece of ground in the whole country ; every thing about it went wrong, and would go wrong in spite of him. Hia fences were continually falling to pieces ; his cow would either go astray, or get among the cabbages ; weeds were sure to grow quicker in his fields than any where else ; the rain always made a point of set- ting in just as he had some out-door work to do ; so that though his patrimonial estate had dwindled away under his manage- ment, acre by acre, until there was little more left than a mere patch of Indian corn and potatoes, yet it was the worst con- ditioned farm in the neighborhood. His children, too, were as ragged and wild as if they belonged to nobody. His son, Rip, an urchin begotten in his own likeness, promised to inherit the habits, with the old clothes of his father. He was generally seen trooping like a colt at his mother's heels, equipped in a pair of his father's cast-off galligaskins, which he had much ado to hold up with one hand, as a fine lady does her train in bad weather. Rip Van Winkle, however, was one of those happy mortals, of foolish, well-oiled dispositions, who take the world easy; eat white bread or brown, whichever can be got with least thought or trouble, and would rather starve on a penny than work for a pound. If left to himself, he would have whistled life away, in perfect contentment ; but his wife kept continu- ally dinning in his ears about his idleness, his carelessness, and the ruin he was bringing on his family. Morning, noon, and night, her tongue was incessantly going, and every thing he said or did was sure to produce a torrent of household eloquence. Rip had but one 17 25. RIP VAN WINKLE. way of replying to all lectures of the kind, and that, by 1'requeut use, had grown into a habit. He shrugged his shoulders, shook his head, cast up his eyes, but said nothing. This, however, always pro- voked a fresh volley from his wife, so that he was fain to draw off his forces, and take to the outside of the house the only side which, in truth, belongs to a henpecked husband. Rip's sole domestic adherent was his dog Wolf, who was as much henpecked as his master ; for Dame Van Winkle re- garded them as companions in idleness, and even looked upon Wolf with an evil eye, as the cause of his master's going so often astray. True it is, in all points of spirit befitting an honorable dog, he was as courageous an animal as ever scoured the woods but what courage can withstand the ever-during and all-besetting terrors of a woman's tongue ? The moment Wolf entered the house, his crest fell, his tail drooped to the ground, or curled between his legs, he sneaked about with a gallows air, casting many a sidelong glance at Dame Van Winkle, and at the least flourish of a broomstick or ladle, he would fly to the door with yelping precipitation. Times grew worse and worse with Rip Van Winkle, as years of matrimony rolled on : a tart temper never mellows with age, and a sharp tongue is the only edge tool that grows keener with constant use. For a long while he used to console himself, when driven from home, by frequenting a kind of perpetual club of the sages, phil- osophers, and other idle personages of the village, which held its sessions on a bench before a small inn, designated by a rubi- cund portrait of his majesty George the Third. Here they used to sit in the shade, of a long lazy summer's day, talking list- lessly over village gossip, or telling endless sleepy stories about nothing. But it would have been worth any statesman's money to have heard the profound discussions which sometimes took place, when by chance an old newspaper fell into their hands, from some passing traveller. How solemnly they would listen to the contents, as drawled out by Derrick Van Bummel, the schoolmaster, a dapper learned little man, who was not to be daunted by the most gigantic word in the dictionary ; and how sagely they would deliberate upon public events some months after they had taken place. The opinions of this junto were com- pletely controlled by Nicholas Vedder, a patriarch of the village, and landlord of the inn, at the door of which he took his seat from morning till night, just moving sufficiently to avoid the sun, and keep in the shade of a large tree ; so that the neighbors could tell the hour by his movements as accurately as by a sun-dial. It is true, he was rarely heard to speak, but smoked his pipe incessantly. His adherents, however (for every great man has his adherents), perfectly understood him, and knew how to gather his opinions. When any thing that was read or related displeased him, he was observed to smoke his pipe vehemently, and to send forth short, frequent, and angry puffs ; but when pleased, he would inhale the smoke slowly and tranquilly, and emit it in light and placid clouds, and sometimes taking the pipe from his mouth, and letting the fra- grant vapor curl about his nose, would gravely nod his head in token of perfect approbation. From even this stronghold the unlucky Rip was at length routed by his terma- gant wife, who would suddenly break in upon the tranquillity of the assemblage, and call the members all to nought ; nor was that august personage, Nicholas Vedder himself, sacred from the daring tongue of this terrible virago, who charged him outright with encouraging her hus- band in habits of idleness. Poor Rip was at last reduced almost to despair, and his only alternative to escape from the labor of the farm and the cla- mor of his wife, was to take gun in hand, and stroll away into the woods. Here he would sometimes seat himself at the foot of a tree, and share the contents of his wallet with Wolf, with whom he sympa- thized as a fellow-sufferer in persecution. " Poor Wolf," he would say, " thy mistress leads thee a dog's life of it; but never mind, my lad, whilst I live thou shalt never want a friend to stand by thee ! " Wolf would wag his tail, look wistfully in his master's face, and if dogs can feel pity, I verily believe he reciprocated the senti- ment with all his heart. In a long ramble of the kind, on a fine autumnal day, Rip had unconsciously scrambled to one of the highest parts of the Kaatskill mountains. He was after his favorite sport of squirrel-shooting, and the still solitudes had echoed and re- RIP VAN WINKLE. 259 echoed with the reports of his gun. Pant- ing and fatigued, he threw himself, late iu the afternoon, on a green knoil covered with mountain herbage, that crowned the brow of a precipice. From an opening be- tween the trees, he could overlook all the lower country for many a mile of rich woodland. He saw at a distance the lordly Hudson, far, far, below him, moving on its silent but majestic course, with the re- flection of a purple cloud, or the sail of a lagging bark, here and there sleeping on its glassy bosom, and at last losing itself in the blue highlands. On the other side he looked down into a deep mountain glen, wild, lonely, and shagged, the bottom filled with fragments from the impending cliffs, and scarcely lighted by the reflected rays of the setting sun. For some time Kip lay musing on this scene ; evening was gradually ad- vancing ; the mountains began to throw their long blue shadows over the valleys ; he saw that it would be dark long before he could reach the village ; and he heaved a heavy sigh when he thought of en- countering the terrors of Dame Van Winkle. As he was about to descend, he heard a voice from a distance, hallooing. " Rip Van Winkle! Rip Van Winkle!" He looked around, but could see nothing but a crow winging its solitary flight across the mountain. He thought his fancy must have deceived him, and turned again to descend, when he heard the same cry ring through the still evening air ; " Rip Van Winkle ! Rip Van Winkle ! "at the same time Wolf bristled up his back, and giving a low growl, skulked to his master's side, looking fearfully down into the glen. Rip now felt a vague apprehension steal- ing over him : he looked anxiously in the same direction, and perceived a strange figure slowly toiling up the rocks, and bending under the weight of something he carried on his back. He was surprised to see any human being in this lonely and unfrequented place, but supposing it to be some one of the neighborhood in need of his assistance, he hastened downto yield it. On nearer approach, he was still more surprised at the singularity of the stranger's appearance. He was a short square-built old fellow, with thick bushy hair and grizzled beard. His dress was of the antique Dutch fashion a cloth jerkin strapped round the waist several pair of breeches, the outer one of ample volume, decorated with rows of buttons down the sides, and bunches at the knees. He bore on his shoulders a stout keg, that seemed full of liquor, and made signs for Rip to approach and assist him with the load. Though rather shy and distrustful of this new acquaintance, Rip complied with his usual alacrity, and mutually relieving each other, they clambered up a narrow gully, apparently the dry bed of a moun- tain torrent. As they ascended, Rip every now and then heard long rolling peals, like distant thunder, that seemed to issue out of a deep ravine, or rather cleft be- tween lofty rocks, toward which their rugged path conducted. He paused for an instant, but supposing it to be the muttering of one of those transient thunder-showers which often take place in mountain heights, he proceeded. Pass- ing through the ravine, they came to a hollow, like a small amphitheatre, sur- rounded by perpendicular precipices, over the brinks of which, impending trees shot their branches, so that you only caught glimpses of the azure sky, and the bright evening cloud. During the whole time, Rip and his companion had v labored on in silence ; for though the former mar- velled greatly what could be the object of carrying a keg of liquor up this wild mountain, yet there was something strange and incomprehensible about the un- known, that inspired awe, and checked familiarity. On entering the amphitheatre, new ob- jects of wonder presented themselves. On a level spot in the centre was a company of odd-looking personages playing at nine- pins. They were dressed in a quaint out- landish fashion : some wore short doub- lets, others jerkins, with long knives in their belts, and most of them had enor- mous breeches, of similar style with that of the guide's. Their visages, too, were Eeculiar : one had a large head, broad ice, and small piggish eyes ; the face of another seemed to consist entirely of nose, and was surmounted by a white sugar- loaf hat, set off with a little red cock's tail. They all had beards, of various shapes and colors. There was one who seemed to be the commander. He was a stout old gentleman, with a weather- beaten countenance; he wore a laced doublet, broad belt and hanger, high- crowned hat and feather, red stockings, 860 RIP VAN WINKLE. tnd high-heeled shoes, with roses in them. The whole group reminded Eip of the figures in an old Flemish painting, in the parlor of Dominie Van Schaick, the village parson, and which had been brought over from Holland at the time of the settlement. What seemed particularly odd to Rip, was, that though these folks were evidently amusing themselves, yet they maintained the gravest faces, the most mysterious silence, and were, withal, the most melan- choly party of pleasure he had ever witnessed. Nothing interrupted the still- ness of the scene but the noise of the balls, which, whenever they were rolled, echoed along the mountains like rumbling peals of thunder. As Rip and his companion approached them, they suddenly desisted from their play, and stared at him with such a fixed statue-like gaze, and such strange, un- couth, lack-lustre countenances, that his heart turned within him, and his knees smote together. His companion now emptied the contents of the keg into large flagons, and made signs to him to wait upon the company. He obeyed with fear and trembling ; they quaffed the liquor in profound silence, and then returned to their game. By degrees, Rip's awe and apprehension subsided. He even ventured, when no eye was fixed upon him, to taste the beverage, which he found had much of the flavor of excellent Hollands. He was naturally a thirsty soul, and was soon tempted to repeat the draught. One taste provoked another, and he reiterated his visits to the flagon so often, that at length his senses were overpowered, his eyes swam in his head, his head gradually de- clined, and he fell into a deep sleep. On waking, he found himself on the green knoll from whence he had first seen the old man of the glen. He rubbed his eyes it was a bright sunny morning. The birds were hopping and twittering among the bushes, and the eagle was wheeling aloft, and breasting the pure mountain breeze. " Surely," thought Rip, " I have not slept here all night." He re- called the occurrences before he fell asleep. The strange man with the keg of liquor the mountain ravine the wild retreat among the rocks the wo-begone party at nine-pins the flagon " Oh ! that wicked flagon ! " thought Rip " what excuse shall I make to Dame Van Winkle?" He looked round for his gun, but in place of the clean, well-oiled fowling-piece, he found an old firelock lying by him, the barrel encrusted with rust, the lock falling off, and the stock worm-eaten. He now suspected that the grave roysters of the mountain had put a trick upon him, and having dosed him with liquor, had robbed him of his gun. Wolf, too, had disappeared, but he might have strayed away after a squirrel or partridge. He whistled after him, and shouted his name, but all in vain ; the echoes repeated his whistle and shout, but no dog was to be seen. He determined to revisit the scene of the last evening's gambol, and if he met with any of the party, to demand his dog and gun. As he rose to walk, he found himself stiff in the joints, and wanting in his usual activity. "These mountain beds do not agree with me," thought Rip, " and if this frolic should lay me up with a fit of the rheumatism, I shall have a blessed time with Dame Van Winkle." With some difficulty he got down into the glen ; he found the gully up which he and his companion had ascended the pre- ceding evening ; but to his astonishment a mountain stream was now foaming down it, leaping from rock to rock, and filling the glen with babbling murmurs. He, however, made shift to scramble up its sides, working his toilsome way through thickets of birch, sassafras, and witch- hazel ; and sometimes tripped up or en- tangled by the wild grape vines that twisted their coils and tendrils from tree to tree, and spread a kind of network in his path. At length he reached to where the ravine had opened through the cliffs, to the amphitheatre ; but no traces of such opening remained. The rocks presented a high impenetrable waM, over which the torrent came tumbling in a sheet of feathery foam, and fell into a broad deep basin, black from the shadows of the surrounding forest. Here, then, poor Rip was brought to a stand. He again called and whistled after his dog ; he was only answered by the cawing of a flock of idle crows, sporting high in air about a dry tree that overhung a sunny precipice ; and who, secure in their elevation, seemed to look down and scoff at the poor man's perplexities. What was to be done ? The KIP VAN WINKLE. 261 morning was passing away, and Rip felt famished for want of his breakfast. He grieved to give up his dog and gun ; he dreaded to meet his wife ; but it would not do to starve among the mountains. He shook his head, shouldered the rusty firelock, and, with a heart full of trou- ble and anxiety, turned his steps home- ward. As he approached the village, he met a number of people, but none whom he knew, which somewhat surprised him, for he had thought himself acquainted with every one in the country round. Their dress, too, was of a different fashion from that to which he was accustomed. They all stared at him with equal marks of surprise, and whenever they cast eyes upon him, invariably stroked their chins. The constant recurrence of this gesture, induced Rip, involuntarily, to do the same, when, to his astonishment, he found his beard had grown a foot long ! He had now entered the skirts of the village. A troop of strange children ran at his heels, hooting after him, and point- ing at his gray beard. The dogs, too, not one of which he recognized for an old ac- quaintance, barked at him as he passed. The very village was altered: it was larger and more populous. There were rows of houses which he had never seen before, and those which had been his familiar haunts had disappeared. Strange names were over the doors strange faces at the windows every thing was strange. His mind now misgave him ; he began to doubt whether both he and the world around him were not bewitched. Surely this was his native village, which he had left but a day before. There stood the Kaatskill mountains there ran the silver Hudson at a distance there was every hill and dale precisely as it had always been Rip was sorely perplexed " That flagon last night," thought he, " has addled my poor head sadly! '* It was with some difficulty that he found the way to his own house, which he ap- proached with silent awe, expecting every moment to hear the shrill voice of Dame Van Winkle. He found the house gone to decay the roof fallen in, the windows shattered, and the doors off the hinges. A half-starved dog, that looked like Wolf, was skulking about it. Rip called him by name, but the cur snarled, showed his teeth, and passed on. This was an unkind cut indeed. " My very dog," sighed poor Rip, "has forgotten me.' 1 He entered the house, which, to tell the truth. Dame Van Winkle had always kept in neat order. It was empty, forlorn, and apparently abandoned. This deso- lateness overcame all his connubial fears he called loudly for his wife and children the lonely chambers rang for a moment with his voice, and then all again was silence. He now hurried forth, and hastened to his old resort, the village inn but it too was gone. A large rickety wooden building stood in its place, with great gaping win- dows, some of them broken, and mended with old hats and petticoats, and over the door was painted, "The Union Hotel, by Jonathan Doolittle." Instead of the great tree that used to shelter the quiet little Dutch inn of yore, there now was reared a tall naked pole, with something on the top that looked like a red night-cap, and from it was fluttering a flag, on which was a singular assemblage of stars and stripes all this was strange and incompre- hensible. He recognized on the sign, however, the ruby face of King George, under which he had smoked so many a peaceful pipe, but even this was singularly metamorphosed. The red coat was changed for one of blue and buff, a sword was held in the hand instead of a sceptre, the head was decorated with a cocked hat, and underneath was painted in large characters, GENERAL WASHINGTON. There was, as usual, a crowd of folk about the door, but none that Rip re- collected. The very character of the people seemed changed. There was a busy, bustling, disputatious tone about it, instead of the accustomed phlegm and drowsy tranquillity. He looked in vain for the sage Nicholas Vedder, with his broad face, double chin, and fair long pipe, uttering clouds of tobacco smoke, instead of idle speeches ; or Van Bummel, the schoolmaster, doling forth the con- tents of an ancient newspaper. In place of these, a lean bilious-looking fellow, with his pockets full of handbills, was ha- ranguing vehemently about rights of citizens election members of Congress liberty Bunker's hill heroes of se- venty-six and other words, that were a perfect Babylonish jargon to the be- wildered Van Winkle. The appearance of Rip, with his long 262 RIP VAN WINKLE. grizzled beard, his rusty fowling-piece, his uncouth dress, and the army of women and children that had gathered at his heels, soon attracted the attention of the tavern politicians. They crowded round him, eyeing him from head to foot, with great curiosity. The orator bustled up to him, and drawing him partly aside, in- quired "on which side he voted?'' Rip stared in vacant stupidity. Another short but busy little fellow pulled him by the arm, and rising on tiptoe, inquired in his ear, " whether he was Federal or Demo- crat." Rip was equally at a loss to com- prehend the question ; when a knowing, self-important old gentleman, in a sharp cocked hat, made nis way through the crowd, putting them to the right and left with his elbows as he passed, and plant- ing himself before Van Winkle, with one arm a-kimbo, the other resting on his cane, his keen eyes and sharp hat pene- trating, as it were, into his very soul, demanded in an austere tone, " what brought him to the election with a gun on his shoulder, and a mob at his heels, and whether he meant to breed a riot in the village ?" " Alas ! gentlemen," cried Rip, some- what dismayed, " I am a poor quiet man, a native of the place, and a loyal subject of the King, God bless him !'' Here a general shout burst from the by- standers " a tory ! a tory ! a spy ! a refugee ! hustle him ! away with him ! " It was with great difficulty that the self-im- portant man in the cocked hat restored order ; and having assumed a tenfold austerity of brow, demanded again of the unknown culprit, what he came there for, and whom he was seeking. The poor man humbly assured him that he meant no harm, but merely came there in search of some of his neighbors, who used to keep about the tavern. " Well who are they ? name them." Rip bethought himself a moment, and inquired, "Where's Nicholas Vedder?" There was a silence for a little while, when an old man replied, in a thin piping voice, " Nicholas Vedder ! why he is dead and gone these eighteen years! There was a wooden tomb-stone in the church- yard that used to tell all about him, but that's rotten and gone too." "Where's Brom Butcher?" " Oh, he went off to the army in the beginning; of the war; some say he was killed at the storming of Stony-Point others say he was drowned in the squall, at the foot of Antony's Nose. I don't know he never came back again. 1 ' "Where's Van Bummel, the school- master?" " He went off to the wars too, was a great militia general, and is now in Con- gress." Rip's heart died away, at hearing of these sad changes in his home and friends, and finding himself thus alone in the world. Every answer puzzled him, too, by treating of such enormous lapses of time, and of matters which he could not understand: war Congress Stony- Point ! he had no courage to ask after any more friends, but cried out in des- pair, " does nobody here know Rip Van Winkle?" " Oh, Rip Van Winkle ! " exclaimed two or three, " Oh, to be sure ! that's Rip Van Winkle yonder, leaning against the tree. 1 ' Rip looked, and beheld a precise coun- terpart of himself as he went up the mountain ; apparently as lazy, and cer- tainly as ragged. The poor fellow was now completely confounded. He doubted his own identity, and whether he was himself or another man. In the midst of his bewilderment, the man in the cocked hat demanded who he was, and what was his name? "God knows," exclaimed he at his wit's end ; " I'm not myself I'm somebody else that's me yonder no that's some- body else, got into my shoes I was my- self last night, but I fell asleep on the mountain, and they've changed my gun, and every thing's changed, and I'm changed, and I can't tell what's my name, or who I am ! " The bystanders began now to look at each other, nod, wink significantly, and tap their fingers against their foreheads. There was a whisper, also, about securing the gun, and keeping the old fellow from doing mischief; at the very suggestion of which, the self-important man with the cocked hat retired with some precipita- tion. At this critical moment a fresh comely woman passed through the throng to get a peep at the gray-bearded man. She had a chubby child in her arms, which, frightened at his looks, began to cry. " Hush, Rip," cried she, " hush, you little fool ; the old man won't hurt you." RIP VAN WINKLE. 263 The name of the child, the air of the mother, the tone of her voice, all awakened a train of recollections in his mind. " What is your name, my good woman? " asked he. "Judith Gardenier." " And your father's name? " " Ah, poor man, his name was Hip Van Winkle; it's twenty years since he went away from home with his gun, and never has been heard of since his dog came home without him ; but whether he shot himself, or was carried away by the In- dians, nobody can tell. I was then but a little girl." Rip had but one question more to ask ; but he put it with a faltering voice : " Where's your mother? " Oh, she too had died but a short time since ; she broke a blood-vessel in a fit of passion at a New-England pedlar. There was a drop of comfort, at least, in this intelligence. The honest man could contain himself no longer. He caught his daughter and her child in his arms. " T am your father ! " cried he " Young Rip Van Winkle once old Rip Van Winkle now! Does nobody know poor Rip Van Winkle ?" All stood amazed, until an old woman, tottering out from among the crowd, put her hand to her brow, and peering under it in his face for a moment, exclaimed, " Sure enough ! it is Rip Van Winkle it is himself. Welcome home again, old neighbor Why, where have you been these twenty long years?" Rip's story was soon told, for the whole twenty years had been to him but as one night. The neighbors stared when they heard it; some were seen to wink at each other, and put their tongues in their cheeks ; and the self-important man in the cocked hat, who, when the alarm was over, had returned to the field, screwed down the corners of his mouth, and shook his head upon which there was a general shaking of the head throughout the as- semblage. It was determined, however, to take the opinion of old Peter Vanderdonk, who was seen slowly advancing up the road. He was a descendant of the historian of that name, who wrote one of the earliest accounts of the province. Peter was the most ancient inhabitant of the village, and well versed in all the wonderful events and traditions of the neighbor- hood. He recollected Rip at once, and corroborated his story in the most satis- factory manner. He assured the company that it was a fact, handed down from his ancestor the historian, that the Kaatskill mountains had always been haunted by strange beings. That it was affirmed that the great Hendrick Hudson, the first dis- coverer of the river and country, kept a kind of vigil there every twenty years, with his crew of the Half-moon, being permitted in this way to revisit the scenes of his enterprise, and keep a guardian eye upon the river and the great city called by his name. That his father had once seen them in their old Dutch dresses playing at nine-pins in a hollow of the mountain ; and that he himself had heard, one sum- mer afternoon, the sound of their balls, like distant peals of thunder. To make a long story short, the com- pany broke up, and returned to the more important concerns of the election. Rip's daughter took him home to live with her ; she had a snug, well-furnished house, and a stout cheery farmer for a husband, whom Rip recollected for one of the urchins that used to climb upon his back. As to Rip's son and heir, who was the ditto of himself, seen leaning against the tree, he was employed to work on the farm ; but evinced a hereditary disposition to attend to anything else but his business. Rip now resumed his old walks and habits ; he soon found many of his former cronies, though all rather the worse for the wear and tear of time ; and preferred making friends among the rising genera- tion, with whom he soon grew into great favor. Having nothing to do at home, and being arrived at that happy age when a man can do nothing with impunity, he took his place once more on the bench, at the inn door, and was reverenced as one of the patriarchs of the village, and a chronicle of the old times " before the war." It was some time before he could get into the regular track of gossip, or could be made to comprehend the strange events that had taken place during his torpor. How that there had been a revo- lutionary war that the country had thrown off the yoke of old England and that, instead of being a subject of his majesty George the Third, be was nov r a free citizen of the United States. Rip, in fact, was no politician ; the changes of 264 THE LEGEND OF SLEEPY HOLLOW. states and empires made but little im- pression on him ; but there was one spe- cies of despotism under which he had long groaned, and that was petticoat govern- ment. Happily, that was at an end ; he had got his neck out of the yoke of matri- mony, and could go in and out whenever he pleased, without dreading the tyranny of Dame Van Winkle. Whenever her name was mentioned, however, he shook his head, shrugged his shoulders, and cast up his eyes ; which might pass either for an expression of resignation to his fate, or joy at his deliverance. He used to tell his story to every stranger that arrived at Mr. Doolittle's hotel. He was observed, at first, to vary on some points every time he told it, which was doubtless owing to his having so recently awaked. It at last settled down precisely to the tale I have related, and not a man, woman, or child in the neighborhood, but knew it by heart. Some always pretended to doubt the re- ality of it, and insisted that Rip had been out of his head, and that this was one point on which he always remained flighty. The old Dutch inhabitants, however, almost universally gave it credit. Even to this day, they never hear a thunder-storm of a summer afternoon about the Kaatskill, but they say Hend- rick Hudson and his crew are at their game of nine-pins ; and it is a common wish of all henpecked husbands in the neighborhood, when life hangs heavy on their hands, that they might have a quieting draught out of Rip Van Winkle's flagon. NOTE. The foregoing tale, one would suspect, had been suggreted to Mr. Knickerbocker by a little German superstition about the Emperor Frederick der Rothbart and the Kypphauser mountain ; the subjoined note, however, which he had appended to the tale, shows that it is an absolute fact, narrated with his usual fidelity. " The story of Rip Van Winkle may seem incredible to many, but neverthe- less I give it my full belief, for I know the vicinity of our "old Dutch settlements to have been very subject to marvellous events and appearances. Indeed, I have heard many stranger stories than this, in the villages along the Hudson ; all of which were too well authenticated to ad- mit of a doubt. I have even talked with Rip Van Winkle myself, who, when last I saw him, was a very venerable old man, and so perfectly rational and consistent on every other point, that I think no con- scientious person could refuse to take this into the bargain ; nay, I have seen a cer- tificate on the subject taken before a country justice, and signed with a cross, in the justice's own handwriting. The story, therefore, is beyond the possibility of doubt." THE LEGEND OF SLEEPY HOL- LOW. (FOUND AMONG THE PAPERS OF THB LATE DIEDR1CH KNICKERBOCKER.) A pleasing land of drowsy head it was, Of dreams that wave before the half shut eye, And of gay castles in the clouds that pass, For ever flushing round a summer sky. Cagtte of Indolence. IN the bosom of one of those spacious coves which indent the eastern shore of the Hudson, at that broad expansion of the river denominated by the ancient Dutch navigators the Tappaan Zee, and where they always prudently shortened sail, and implored the protection of St. Nicholas when they crossed, there lies a small market town or rural port, which by some is called Greensburg, but which is more generally and properly known by the name of Tarry Town. This name was given it, we are told, in former days, by the good housewives of the adjacent country, from the inveterate propensity of their husbands to linger about the vil- lage tavern on market days. Be that as it may, I do not vouch for the fact, but merely advert to it, for the sake of being precise and authentic. Not far from this village, perhaps about three miles, there is a little valley or rather lap of land among high hills, which is one of the quietest places in the whole world. A small brook glides through it, with just murmur enough to lull one to repose ; and the occasional whistle of a quail, or tap- ping of a wood-pecker, is almost the only sound that ever breaks in upon the uni- form tranquillity. I recollect that, when a stripling, my THE LEGEND OF SLEEPY HOLLOW. 265 first exploit in squirrel-shooting was in a grove of tall walnut-trees that shades one side of the valley. I had wandered into it at noon-time, when all nature is pecu- liarly quiet, and was startled by the roar of my own gun, as it broke the sabbath stillness around, and was prolonged and reverberated by the angry echoes. If ever I should wish for a retreat whither I might steal from the world and its dis- tractions, and dream quietly away the remnant of a troubled life, I know of none more promising than this little val- ley. From the listless repose of the place, and the peculiar character of its inhabi- tants, who are descendant from the orig- inal Dutch settlers, this sequestered glen has long been known by the name of SLEEPY HOLLOW, and its rustic lads are called the Sleepy Hollow Boys through- out all the neighboring country. A drowsy, dreamy influence seems to hang over the land, and to pervade the very atmosphere. Some say that the place was bewitched by a high German doctor, during the early days of the settlement ; others, that an old Indian chief, the prophet or wizard of his tribe, held his powwows there before the country was discovered by Master Hendrick Hudson. Certain it is, the place still continues under the sway of some witching power, that holds a spell over the minds of the good people, causing them to walk in a continual reverie. They are given to all kinds of marvellous beliefs; are subject to trances and visions, and fre- quently see strange sights, and hear music and voices in the air. The whole neigh- borhood abounds with local tales, haunt- ed spots, and twilight superstitions ; stars shoot and meteors glare oftener across the valley than in any other part of the coun- try, and the night-mare, with her whole nine fold, seems to make it the favorite 8'ene of her gambols. The dominant spirit, however, that haunts this enchanted region, and seems to be commander-in-chief of all the pow- ers of the air, is the apparition of a figure on horseback without a head. It is said by some to be the ghost of a Hessian trooper, whose head had been carried away by a cannon-ball, in some nameless battle during the revolutionary war, and who is ever and anon seen by the country folk, hurrying along in the gloom of night, as if on the wings of the wind. His haunts are not confined to the valley, but extend at times to the adjacent roads, and especially to the ruins of a church that is at no great distance. Indeed, cer- tain of the most authentic historians of those parts, who have been careful in col- lecting and collating the floating facts concerning this spectre, allege, that the body of the trooper having been buried in the churchyard, the ghost rides forth to the scene of battle in nightly quest of his head, and that the rushing speed with which he sometimes passes along the hoi' low, like a midnight blast, is owing to his being belated, and in a hurry to get back to the churchyard before daybreak. Such is the general purport of this leg- endary superstition, which has furnished materials for many a wild story in that region of shadows; and the spectre is known at all the country firesides, by the name of the Headless Horseman of Sleepy Hollow. It is remarkable, that the visionary pro- pensity I have mentioned is not confined to the native inhabitants of the valley, but is unconsciously imbibed by every one who resides there for a time. How- ever wide awake they may have been be- fore they entered that sleepy region, they are sure, in a little time to inhale the witching influence of the air, and begin to grow imaginative to dream dreams, and see apparitions. I mention this peaceful spot with all pos- sible laud ; for it is in such little retired Dutch valleys, found here and there em- bosomed in the great State of New York, that population, manners and customs, remain fixed, while the great torrent of migration and improvement, which is making such incessant changes in other parts of this restless country, sweeps by them unobserved. They are like those little nooks of still water, which border a stream, where we may see the straw and bubble riding quietly at anchor, or slowly revolving in their mimic harbor, un- disturbed by the rush of the passing cur- rent. Though many years have elapsed since I trod the drowsy shades of Sleepy Hollow, yet I question whether I should not still find the same trees and the same families vegetating in its sheltered bosom. In this by-place of nature there abode, in a remote period of American history, that is to say, some thirty years since, a 266 THE LEGEND OF SLEEPY HOLLOW. worthy wight of the name of Ichabod Crane, who sojourned, or, as he expressed it, " tarried," in Sleepy Hollow, for the purpose of instructing the children of the vicinity. He was a native of Con- necticut, a State which supplies the Union with pioneers for the mind as well as for the forest, and sends forth yearly its legions of frontier woodmen and country schoolmasters. The cognomen of Crane was not inapplicable to his person. He was tall, but exceedingly lank, with nar- row shoulders, long arms and legs, hands that dangled a mile out of his sleeves, feet that might have served for shovels, and his whole frame most loosely hung together. His head was small, and flat at top, with huge ears, large green glassy eyes, and a long snipe nose, so that it looked like a weathercock perched upon his spindle neck, to tell which way the wind blew. To see him striding along the profile of a hill on a windy day, with his clothes bagging and fluttering about him, one might have mistaken him for the genius of famine descending upon the earth, or some scarecrow eloped from a cornfield. His school-house was a low building of one large room, rudely constructed of logs ; the windows partly glazed, and partly patched with leaves of old copy- books. It was most ingeniously secured at vacant hours, by a withe twisted in the handle of the door, and stakes set against the window shutters ; so that though a thief might get in with perfect ease, he would find some embarrassment in getting out; an idea most probably borrowed by the architect, Yost Van Houten, from the mystery of an eelpot. The school-house stood in a rather lonely but pleasant situation, just at the foot of a woody hill, with a brook running close by, and a formidable birch-tree growing at one end of it. From hence the low murmur of his pupil's voices, conning over their lessons, might be heard of a drowsy summer's day, like the hum of a beehive; interrupted now and then by the authoritative voice of the master, in the tone of menace or command ; or, peradventure, by the appalling sound of the birch, as he urged some tardy loiterer along the flowery path of knowledge. Truth to say, he was a conscientious man, that ever bore in mind the golden maxim, ' spare the rod and spoil the child." Ichabod Crane's scholars certainly wer not spoiled. I would not have it imagined, however, that he was one of those cruel potentates of the school, who joy in the smart of their subjects ; on the contrary, he ad- ministered justice with discrimination rather than severity ; taking the burthen off the backs of the weak, and laying it on those of the strong. Your mere puny stripling, that winced at the least flourish of the rod, was passed by with indul- gence; but the claims of justice were satisfied by inflicting a double portion on some little, tough, wrong-headed, broad- skirted Dutch urchin, who sulked and swelled and grew dogged and sullen be- neath the birch. All this he called " doing his duty by their parents ; " and he never inflicted a chastisement without following it by the assurance, so consola- tory to the smarting urchin, that " he would remember it and thank him for it the longest day he had to live." When school hours were over, he was even the companion and playmate of the larger boys; and on holiday afternoons would convoy some of the smaller ones home, who happened to have pretty sis- ters, or good housewives for mothers, noted for the comforts of the cupboard. Indeed, it behoved him to keep on good terms with his pupils. The revenue arising from his school was small, and would have been scarcely sufficient to furnish him with daily bread, for he was a huge feeder, and though lank, had the dilating powers of an anaconda ; but to help out his maintenance, he was, accord- ing to country custom in those parts, boarded and lodged at the houses of the farmers, whose children he instructed. With these he lived successively a week at a time, thus going the rounds of the neighborhood, with all his worldly ef- fects tied up in a cotton handkerchief. That all this might not be too onerous on the purses of his rustic patrons, who are apt to consider the cost of schooling a grievous burthen, and schoolmasters as mere drones, he had various ways of ren- dering himself both useful and agreeable. He assisted the farmers occasionally in the lighter labors of their farms; helped to make hay ; mended the fences ; took the horses to water ; drove the cows from pasture ; and cut wood for the winter fire He laid aside, too, all the dominant dig- THE LEGEND OF SLEEPY HOLLOW. 267 nity and absolute sway, with which he lorded it in his little empire, the school, and became wonderfully gentle and in- gratiating. He found favor in the eyes of the mothers, by petting the children, Earticularly the youngest ; and like the on bold, which whilome so magnani- mously the lamb did hold, he would sit with a child on one knee, and rock a cra- dle with his foot for whole hours together. In addition to his other vocations, he was the singing-master of the neighbor- hood, and picked up many bright shillings by instructing the young folks in psal- mody. It was a matter of no little vanity to him on Sundays, to take his station in front of the church gallery, with a band of chosen singers ; where, in his own mind, he completely carried away the palm from the parson. Certain it is, his voice resounded far above all the rest of the congregation, and there are peculiar quavers still to be heard in that church, and which may even be heard half a mile off, quite to the opposite side of the mill- pond, on a still Sunday morning, which are said to be legitimately descended from the nose of Ichabod Crane. Thus, by divers little make-shifts, in that ingenious way which is commonly denominated " by hook and by crook," the worthy ped- agogue got on tolerably enough, and was thought, by all who understood nothing of the labor of head-work, to have a wonderful easy life of it. The schoolmaster is generally a man of some importance in the female circle of a rural neighborhood ; being considered a kind of idle gentleman-like personage, of vastly superior taste and accomplish- ments to the rough country swains, and, indeed, inferior in learning only to the parson. His appearance, therefore, is apt to occasion some little stir at the tea-table of a farm-house, and the addition of a su- pernumerary dish of cakes or sweetmeats, or, peradventure, the parade of a silver tea-pot. Our man of letters, therefore, was peculiarly happy in the smiles of all the country damsels. How he would fig- ure among them in the churchyard, be- tween services on Sundays I gathering grapes for them from the wild vines that overrun the surrounding trees ; reciting for their amusement all the epitaphs on the tombstones; or sauntering, with a whole bevy of them, along the banks of the adjacent mill -pond ; while the more bashful country bumpkins hung sheepish- ly back, envying his superior elegance and address. From his half itinerant life, also, he was a kind of travelling gazette, -carrying the whole budget of local gossip from house to house ; so that his appearance was always greeted with satisfaction. He was, more- over, esteemed by the women as a man of great erudition, for he had read several books quite through, and was a perfect master of Cotton Mather's History of New England Witchcraft, in which, by the way, he most firmly and potently believed. He was, in fact, an odd mixture of small shrewdness and simple credulity. His appetite for the marvellous, and his powers of digesting it, were equally extra- ordinary ; and both had been increased by his residence in this spell-bound region. No tale was too gross or monstrous for his capacious swallow. It was often his de- light, after his school was dismissed in the afternoon, to stretch himself on the rich bed of clover, bordering the little brook that whimpered by his school-house, and there con over old Mather's direful tales, until the gathering dusk of evening made the printed page a mere mist before his eyes. Then, as he wended his way, by swamp and stream and awful woodland, to the farm-house where he happened to be quartered, every sound of nature, at that witching hour, fluttered his excited imagination ; the moan of the whip-poor- will l from the hill side ; the boding cry of the tree-toad, that harbinger of storm ; the dreary hooting of the screech-owl ; or the sudden rustling in the thicket, of birds frightened from their roost. The fire-flies, too, which sparkled most vividly in the darkest places, now and then startled him, as one of uncommon brightness would stream across his path ; and if, by chance, a huge blockhead of a beetle came wing- ing his blundering flight against him, the poor varlet was ready to give up the ghost, with the idea that he was struck with a witch's token. His only resource on such occasions, either to drown thought, or drive away evil spirits, was to sing psalm tunes ; and the good people of Sleepy Hollow, as they sat by their doors of an evening, were often filled with awe, at hearing his i The whip-poor-will is a bird which is only heard at night. It receives its name from its note, which ! thought to resemble those words. THE LEGEND OF SLEEPY HOLLOW. nasal melody, " in linked sweetness long drawn out," floating from the distant hill, or along the dusky road. Another of his sources of fearful pleas- ure was, to pass long winter evenings with the old Dutch wives, as they sat spinning by the fire, with a row of apples roasting and sputtering along the hearth, and lis- ten to their marvellous tales of ghosts, and goblins, and haunted fields and haunted brooks, and haunted bridges and haunted houses, and particularly, of the headless horseman, or galloping Hessian of the Hollow, as they sometimes called him. He would delight them equally by his an- ecdotes of witchcraft, and of the direful omens and portentous sights and sounds in the air, which prevailed in the earlier times of Connecticut ; and would frighten them wofully with speculations upon comets and shooting stars, and with the alarming fact that the world did abso- lutely turn round, and that they were half the time topsy-turvy ! But if there was a pleasure in all this, while snugly cuddling in the chimney corner of a chamber that was all of a ruddy glow from the crackling wood fire, and where, of course, no spectre dared to show its face, it was dearly purchased by the terrors of his subsequent walk home- wards. What fearful shapes and shadows beset his path, amidst the dim and ghast- ly glare of a snowy night ! With what wistful look did he. eye every trembling ray of light streaming across the waste fields from some distant window ! How often was he appalled by some shrub cov- ered with snow, which like a sheeted spec- tre beset his very path ! How often did he shrink with curdling awe at the sound of his own steps on the frosty crust be- neath his feet ; and dread to look over his shoulder, lest he should behold some un- couth being tramping close behind him ! and how often was he thrown into com- plete dismay by some rushing blast, howl- ing among the trees, in the idea that it was the galloping Hessian on one of his nightly scourings ! All these, however, were mere terrors of the night, phantoms of the mind, that walk in darkness : and though he had seen many spectres in his time, and been beset by Satan in divers shapes, in his lonely perambulations, yet day-light put an end to all these evils ; and he would have passed a pleasant life of it, in despite of the Devil and all his works, if his path had not been crossed by a being that causes more perplexity to mortal man, than ghosts, goblins, and the whole race of witches put together ; and that was a woman. Among the musical disciples who as- sembled, one evening in each week, to re- ceive his instructions in psalmody, was Katrina Van Tassel, the daughter and only child of a substantial Dutch farmer. She was a blooming lass of fresh eighteen ; plump as a partridge ; ripe and melting and rosy-cheeked as one of her father's peaches, and universally famed, not merely for her beauty, but her vast ex- pectations. She was withal a little of a coquette, as might be perceived even in her dress, which was a mixture of ancient and modern fashions, as most suited to set off her charms. She wore the orna- ments of pure yellow gold, which her great-great-grandmother had brought over from Saardam ; the tempting stom- acher of the olden time, and withal a provokingly short petticoat, to display the prettiest foot and ankle in the country round. Ichabod Crane had a soft and foolish heart toward the sex ; and it is not to be wondered at, that so tempting a morsel soon found favor in his eyes, more es- pecially after he had visited her in her paternal mansion. Old Baltus Van Tas- sel was a perfect picture of a thriving, contented, liberal-hearted farmer. He sel- dom, it is true, sent either his eyes or his thoughts beyond the boundaries of his own farm ; but within these, everything was snug, happy, and well conditioned. He was satisfied with his wealth, but not proud of it ; and piqued himself upon the hearty abundance, rather than the style in which he lived. His stronghold was situated on the banks of the Hudson, in one of those green sheltered, fertile nooks, in which the Dutch farmers are so fond of nestling. A great elm tree spread its broad branches over it ; at the foot of which bubbled up a spring of the softest and sweetest water, in a little well, formed of a barrel ; and then stole sparkling away through the grass, to a neighboring brook, that babbled along among alders and dwarf willows. Hard by the farm-house was a vast barn, that might have served for a church ; every window and crevice of which seemed bursting forth with the THE LEGEND OF SLEEPY HOLLOW. 269 treasures of the farm ; the flail was busily resounding within it from morning to night ; swallows and martins skimmed twittering about the eaves ; and rows of pigeons, some with one eye turned up, as if watching the weather, some with their heads under their wings or buried in their bosoms, and others, swelling, and cooing, and bowing about their dames, were enjoying the sunshine on the roof. Sleek, unwieldy porkers were grunting in the repose and abundance of their pens, from whence sallied forth, now and then, troops of sucking pigs as if to snuff the air. A stately squadron of snowy geese were riding in an adjoining pond, convoy- ing whole fleets of ducks ; regiments of turkeys were gobbling through the farm- yard, and guinea-fowls fretting about it like ill-tempered housewives, with their peevish, discontented cry. Before the barn door strutted the gallant cock, that pattern of a husband, a warrior, and a fine gentleman; clapping his burnished wings, and crowing in the pride and glad- ness of his heart sometimes tearing up the earth with his feet, and then gener- ously calling his ever hungry family of wives and children to enjoy the rich mor- sel which he had discovered. The pedagogue's mouth watered, as he looked upon this sumptuous promise of luxurious winter fare. In his devouring mind's eye, he pictured to himself every roasting pig running about, with a pud- ding in its belly, and an apple in its mouth; the pigeons were snugly put to bed in a comfortable pie, and tucked in with a coverlet of crust ; the geese were swim- ming in their own gravy ; and the ducks pairing cosily in dishes, like snug married couples, with a decent competency of onion sauce. In the porkers he saw carved out the future sleek side of bacon, and juicy relishing ham ; not a turkey, but he beheld daintily trussed up, with its gizzard under its wing, and, peradven- ture, a necklace of savoury sausages ; and even bright chanticleer himself lay sprawling on his back, in a side dish, with uplifted claws, as if craving that quarter which his chivalrous spirit disdained to ask while living. As the enraptured Ichabod fancied all this, and as he rolled his great green eyes over the fat meadow lands, the rich fields of wheat, of rye, of buckwheat, and In- dian corn, and the orchards burthened with ruddy fruit, which surrounded the warm tenement of Van Tassel, his heart yearned after the damsel who was to in- herit these domains, and his imagination expanded with the idea, how they might be readily turned into cash, and the money invested in immense tracts of wild land, and shingle palaces in the wilder- ness. Nay, his busy fancy already real- ized his hopes, and presented to him the blooming Katrina, with a whole family of children, mounted on the top of a wag- on loaded with household trumpery, with pots and kettles dangling beneath ; and he beheld himself bestriding a pacing mare, with a colt at her heels, setting out for Kentucky, Tennessee or the Lord knows where ! When he entered the house, the con- quest of his heart was complete. It was one of those spacious farm-houses, with high-ridged, but lowly-sloping roofs, built in the style handed down from the first Dutch settlers. The low projecting eaves forming a piazza along the front, capable of being closed up in bad weather. Under this were hung flails, harness, va- rious utensils of husbandry, and nets for fishing in the neighboring river. Benches were built along the sides for summer use ; and a great spinning-wheel at one end, and a churn at the other, showed the va- rious uses to which this important porch might be devoted. From this piazza the wonderful Ichabod entered the hall, which formed the centre of the mansion, and the place of usual residence. Here, rows of resplendent pewter, ranged on a long dres- ser, dazzled his eyes. In one corner stood a huge bag of wool, ready to be spun ; in another, a quantity of linsey-woolsey just from the loom ; ears of Indian corn, and strings of dried apples and peaches, hung in gay festoons along the walls, mingled with the gaud of red peppers ; and a door left ajar, gave him a peep into the best parlor, where the claw-footed chairs, and dark mahogany tables, shone like mir- rors ; andirons, with their accompanying shovel and tongs, glistened from their co- vert of asparagus tops ; mock-oranges and conch shells decorated the mantelpiece ; strings of various colored birds' eggs were suspended above it ; a great ostrich egg was hung from the centre of the room, and a corner cupboard, knowingly left open, displayed immense treasures of old silver, and well-mended china. 270 THE LEGEND OF SLEEPY HOLLOW. From the moment Ichabod laid his eyes upon these regions of delight, the peace of his mind was at an end, and his only study was how to gain the affections of the peerless daughter of Van Tassel. In this enterprise, however, he had more real difficulties than generally fell to the lot of a knight-errant of yore, who seldom had any thing but giants, enchanters, fiery dragons, and such like easily con- quered adversaries, to contend with ; and had to make his way merely through gates of iron and brass, and walls of ada- mant to the castle-keep, where the lady of his heart was confined; all which he achieved as easily as a man would carve his way to the centre of a Christmas pie, and then the lady gave him her hand as a matter of course. Ichabod, on the con- trary, had to win his way to the heart of a country coquette, beset with a labyrinth of whims and caprices, which were for ever presenting new difficulties and im- pediments, and he had to encounter a host of fearful adversaries of real flesh and blood, the numerous rustic admirers, who beset every portal to her heart ; keeping a watchful and angry eye upon each other, but ready to fly out in the common cause against any new com- petitor. Among these, the most formidable was a burly, roaring, roystering blade, of the name of Abraham, or according to the Dutch abbreviation, Brom Van Brunt, the hero of the country round, which rang with his feats of strength and hardi- hood. He was broad-shouldered and double-jointed, with short curly black hair, and a bluff, but not unpleasant countenance, having a mingled air of fun and arrogance. From his Herculean frame and great powers of limb, he had received the nickname of BROM BONES, by which he was universally known. He was famed for great knowledge and skill in horsemanship, being as dexterous on horseback as a Tartar. He was foremost at all races and cockfights, and with the ascendancy which bodily strength always acquires in rustic life, was the umpire in all disputes, setting his hat on one side, and giving his decisions with an air and tone that admitted of no gainsay or ap- peal. He was always ready for either a fight or a frolic ; had more mischief than ill-will in his composition ; and with all his overbearing roughness, there was a strong dash of waggish good-humor at bottom. He had three or four boon com- panions of his own stamp, who regarded him as their model, and at the head of whom he scoured the country, attending every scene of feud or merriment for miles round. In cold weather he was distinguished by a fur cap, surmounted with a flaunting fox's tail ; and when the folks at a country gathering descried this well-known crest at a distance, whisking about among a squad of hard riders, they always stood by for a squall. Sometimes his crew would be heard dashing along past the farm-houses at midnight, with whoop and halloo, like a troop of Don Cossacks, and the old dames, startled out of their sleep, would listen for a moment till the hurry-scurry had clat- tered by, and then exclaim, "Ay, there goes Brom Bones and his gang I " The neighbors looked upon him with a mix- ture of awe, admiration, and good-will ; and when any madcap prank, or rustic brawl occurred in the vicinity, always shook their heads, and warranted Brom Bones was at the bottom of it. This rantipole hero had for some time singled out the blooming Katrina for the object of his uncouth gallantries, and though his amorous toyings were some- thing like the gentle caresses and endear- ments of a bear, yet it was whispered that she did not altogether discourage his hopes. Certain it is, hie advances were signals for rival candidates to retire, who felt no inclination to cross a lion in his amours ; insomuch, that when his horse was seen tied to Van Tassel's paling, on a Sunday night, a sure sign that his master was courting, or, as it is termed, " spark- ing," within, all other suitors passed by in despair, and carried the war into other quarters. Such was the formidable rival with whom Ichabod Crane had to contend, and considering all things, a stouter man than he would have shrunk from the com- petition, and a wiser man would have de- spaired. He had, however, a happy mix- ture of pliability and perseverance in his nature ; he was in form and spirit like a supple-jack yielding, but tough ; though he bent, he never broke ; and though he bowed beneath the slightest pressure, yet, the moment it was away jerk! he was as erect, and carried his head as high as ever. THE LEGEND OF SLEEPY HOLLOW. 271 To have taken the field openly against his rival, would have been inad'ness; for he was not a man to be thwarted in his amours, any more than that stormy lover, Achilles. Ichabod, therefore, made his advances in a quiet and gently-insinu- ating manner. Under cover of his character of singing-master, he made frequent visits at the farm-house ; not that he had any thing to apprehend from the meddlesome interference of parents, which is so often a stumbling-block in the path of lovers. Bait Van Tassel was an easy indulgent soul ; he loved his daughter better even than his pipe, and like a reasonable man, and an excellent father, let her have her way in every thing. His notable little wife, too, had enough to do to attend to her housekeep- ing and manage the poultry ; for, as she sagely observed, ducks and geese are foolish things, and must be looked after, but girls can take care of themselves. Thus, while the busy dame bustled about the house, or plied her spinning-wheel at one end of the piazza, honest Bait would sit smoking his evening pipe at the other, watching the achievements of a little wooden warrior, who, armed with a sword in each hand, was most valiantly fighting the wind on the pinnacle of the barn. In the mean time, Ichabod would carry on his suit with the daughter by the side of the spring under the great elm, or sauntering along in the twilight, that hour so favorable to the lover's eloquence. I profess not to know how women's hearts are wooed and won. To me they have always been matters of riddle and admiration. Some seem to have but one vulnerable point, or door of access ; while others have a thousand avenues, and may be captured in a thousand different ways. It is a great triumph of skill to gain the former, but a still greater proof of gener- alship to maintain possession of the lat- ter, for a man must battle for his fortress at every door and window. He that wins a thousand common hearts, is therefore entitled to some renown ; but he who keeps undisputed sway over the heart of a coquette, is indeed a hero. Certain it is, this was not the case with the redoubt- able Brom Bones ; and from the moment Ichabod Crane made his advances, the interests of the former evidently de- clined : his horse was no longer seen tied at the paling on Sunday nights, and a deadly feud gradually arose between him and the preceptor of Sleepy Hollow. Brom, who had a degree of rough chiv- alry in his nature, would fain have carried matters to an open warfare, and settled their pretensions to the lady, according to the mode of those most concise and sim- ple reasoners, the knights errant of yore by single combat ; but Ichabod was too conscious of the superior might of his adversary to enter the lists against him ; he had overheard the boast of Bones, that he would " double the schoolmaster up, and put him on a shelf; " and he was too wary to give him the opportunity. There was something extremely provoking in this obstinately pacific system; it left Brom no alternative but to draw upon the funds of rustic waggery in his dispo- sition, and to play off boorish practical jokes upon his rival. Ichabod became the object of whimsical persecution to Bones, and his gang of rough riders. They harried his hitherto peaceful do- mains ; smoked out his singing-school, by stopping up the chimney ; broke into the school-house at night, in spite of its formidable fastenings of withe and win- dow stakes, and turned every thing topsy- turvy ; so that the poor schoolmaster be- gan to think all the witches in the coun- try held their meetings there. But what was still more annoying, Brom took all opportunities of turning him into ridicule in presence of his mistress, and had a scoundrel dog whom he taught to whine in the most ludicrous manner, and intro- duced as a rival of Ichabod's, to instruct her in psalmody. In this way, matters went on for some time, without producing any material ef- fect on the relative situations of the con- tending powers. On a fine autumnal after- noon, Ichabod, in pensive mood, sat en- ihroned on the lofty stool from whence be usually watched all the concerns of his little literary realm. In his hand he swayed a ferule, that sceptre of despotic power; the birch of justice reposed on three nails, behind the throne, a constant terror to evil doers ; while on the desk before him might be seen sundry contra- band articles and prohibited weapons, de- tected upon the persons of idle urchins ; such as half-munched apples, popguns, whirligigs, fly-cages, and whole legions of rampant little paper game-cocks. Ap- parently there had been some appalling 272 THE LEGEND OF SLEEPY HOLLOW. act of justice recently inflicted, for his scholars were all busily intent upon their books, or slyly whispering behind them with one eye kept upon the master ; and a kind of buzzing stillness reigned throughout the school-room. It was sud- denly interrupted by the appearance of a negro in tow-cloth jacket and trowsers, a round crowned fragment of a hat, like the cap of Mercury, and mounted on the back of a ragged, wild, half-broken colt, which he managed with a rope by way of halter. He came clattering up to the school door with an invitation to Ichabod to at- tend a merry-making, or " quilting frolic," to be held that evening at Mynheer Van Tassel's ; and having delivered his message with that air of importance, and effort at fine language, which a negro is apt to dis- play on petty embassies of the kind, he dashed over the brook, and was seen scampering away up the hollow, full of the importance and hurry of his mission. All was now bustle and hubbub in the late quiet school-room. The scholars were hurried through their lessons, with- out stopping at trifles; those who were nimble, skipped over half with impunity, and those who were tardy, had a smart application now and then in the rear, to quicken their speed, or help them over a tall word. Books were flung aside, with- out being put away on the shelves; ink- stands were overturned, benches thrown down, and the whole school was turned loose an hour before the usual time ; bursting forth like a legion of young imps, yelping and racketing about the green, in joy at their early emancipation. The gallant Ichabod now spent at least an extra half-hour at his toilet, brushing and furbishing up his best, and indeed only suit of rusty black, and arranging his looks by a bit of broken looking-glass, that hung up in the school-house. That he might make his appearance before his mistress in the true style of a cavalier, he borrowed a horse from the farmer with whom he was domiciliated, a choleric old Dutchman, of the name of Hans Van Kipper, and thus gallantly mounted, is- sued forth like a knight-errant in quest of adventures. But it is meet I should, in the true spirit of romantic story, give some account of the looks and equipments of my hero and his steed. The animal he bestrode was a broken-down plough -horse, that had outlived almost every thing but his viciousness. He was gaunt and shag- ;ed, with a ewe neck and a head like a lammer ; his rusty mane and tail were tangled and knotted with burs ; one eye had lost its pupil, and was glaring and spectral, but the other had the gleam of a genuine devil in it. Still he must have had fire and mettle in his day, if we may judge from his name, which was Gunpow- der. He had, in fact, been a favorite steed of his master's, the choleric Van Kipper, who was a furious rider, and had infused, very probably, some of his own spirit into the animal ; for, old and bro- ken-down as he looked, there was more of the lurking devil in him than in any young filly in the country. Ichabod was a suitable figure for such a steed. He rode with short stirrups, which brought his knees nearly up to the pommel of the saddle ; his sharp elbows stuck out like grasshoppers ' ; he carried his whip perpendicularly in his hand, like a sceptre, and as the horse jogged on, the motion of his arms was not unlike the flapping of a pair of wings. A small wool hat rested on the top of his nose, for so his scanty strip of forehead might be called, and the skirts of his black coat fluttered out almost to the horse's tail, Such was the appearance of Ichabod and his steed, as they shambled out of the gate of Hans Van Ripper, and it was altogether such an apparition as is seldom to be met with in broad daylight. It was, as I have said, a fine autumnal day ; the sky was clear and serene, and nature wore that rich and golden livery which we always associate with the idea of abundance. The forests had put on their sober brown and yellow, while some trees of the tenderer kind had been nipped by the frosts into brilliant dyes of orange, purple, and scarlet. Streaming files of wild ducks began to make their appear- ance high in the air; the bark of the squirrel might be heard from the groves 01 beech and hickory-nuts, and the pen- sive whistle of the quail at intervals from the neighboring stubble field. The small birds were taking their fare- well banquets. In the fulness of their revelry, they fluttered, chirping and frol- icking, from bush to bush, and tree to tree, capricious from the very profusion and variety around them. There was the honest cock-robin, the favorite game of stripling sportsmen, with its loud queru- THE LEGEND OF SLEEPY HOLLOW. Ions note, and the twittering blackbirds flying in sable clouds; and the golden- winged woodpecker, with his crimson crest, his broad black gorget, and splendid plumage ; and the cedar-bird, with its red- tipt wings and yellow-tipt tail, and its little monteiro cap of feathers ; and the blue jay, that noisy coxcomb, in his gay light blue coat and white under clothes, screaming and chattering, nodding, and bobbing, and bowing, and pretending to be on good terms with every songster of the grove. As Ichabod jogged slowly on his way, his eye, ever open to every symptom of culinary abundance, ranged with delight over the treasures of jolly autumn. On all sides he beheld vast stores of apples, some hanging in oppressive opulence on the trees ; some gathered into baskets and barrels for the market ; others heaped up in rich piles for the cider-press. Farther on he beheld great fields of Indian corn, with its golden ears peeping from their leafy coverts, and holding out the prom- ise of cakes and hasty -pudding ; and the yellow pumpkins lying beneath them, turning up their fair round bellies to the sun, and giving ample prospects of the most luxurious of pies: and anon he passed the fragrant buckwheat fields breathing the odor of the bee-hive, and as he beheld them, soft anticipations stole over his mind of dainty slap-jacks, well buttered, and garnished with honey or treacle, by the delicate little dimpled hand of Katrina Van Tassel. Thus feeding his mind with many sweet thoughts and " sugared suppositions," he journeyed along the sides of a range of hills which look out upon some of the goodliest scenes of the mighty Hudson. The sun gradually wheeled nis broad disk down into the west. The wide bosom of the Tappaan Zee lay motionless and glassy, excepting that here and there a gentle undulation waved and prolonged the blue shadow of the distant mountain. A few amber clouds floated in the sky, without a breath of air to move them. The horizon was of a fine golden tint, changing gradually into a pure apple green, and from that into the deep blue of the mid-heaven. A slanting ray ling- ered on the woody crests of the precipices that overhung some parts of the river, giving greater depth to the dark gray and purple of their rocky sides. A sloop was VOL. II. W. H. loitering in the distance, dropping slowly down with the tide, her sail hanging use- lessly against the mast; and as the re- flection of the sky gleamed along the still water, it seemed as if the vessel was sus- pended in the air. It was toward evening that Ichabod arrived at the castle of the Heer Van Tassel, which he found thronged with the pride and flower of the adjacent country. Old farmers, a spare leathern -faced race, in home-spun coats and breeches, blue stockings, huge shoes, and magnificent pewter buckles. Their brisk, withered little dames, in close crimped caps, long- waisted gowns, homespun petticoats, with scissors and pin-cushions, and gay calico pockets hanging on the outside. Buxom lasses, almost as antiquated as their mothers, excepting where a straw hat, a fine riband, or perhaps a white frock, gave symptoms of city innovations. The sons, in short square-skirted coats, with rows of stupendous brass buttons, and their hair generally queued in the fasliion of the times, especially if they could procure an eelskin for the purpose, it being esteemed throughout the country, as a potent nourisher and strengthener of the hair. Brom Bones, however, was the hero of the scene, having come to the gathering on his favourite steed Daredevil, a crea- ture, like himself, full of mettle and mischief, and which no one but himself could manage. He was, in fact, noted for preferring vicious animals, given to all kinds of tricks which kept the rider in constant risk of his neck, for he held a tractable well-broken horse as unworthy of a lad of spirit. Fain would I pause to dwell upon the world of charms that burst upon the en- raptured gaze of my hero, as he entered the state parlor of Van Tassel's mansion. Not those of the bevy of buxom lasses, with their luxurious display of red and white ; but the ample charms of a genuine Dutch country tea-table, in the sumptuous time of autumn. Such heaped-up platters of cakes of various and almost indescrib- able kinds, known only to experienced Dutch housewives ! There was the doughty dough-nut, the tender oly-koek, and the crisp and crumbling cruller ; sweet cakes and short cakes, ginger cakes and honey cakes, and the whole family of cakes. And then there were apple pies, and peach pies, and pumpkin pies ; besides slices of 18 274 THE LEGEND OF SLEEPY HOLLOW. ham and smoked beef; and moreover delectable dishes of preserved plums, and peaches, and pears, and quinces ; not to mention broiled shad and roasted chick- ens; together with bowls of milk and cream, all mingled higgledy-piggledy, pretty much as I have enumerated them, with the motherly tea-pot sending up its clouds of vapor from the midst Heaven bless the mark ! I want breath and time to discuss the banquet as it deserves, and am too eager to get on with my story. Happily, Ichabod Crane was not in so great a hurry as his historian, but did ample justice to every dainty. He was a kind and thankful creature, whose heart dilated in proportion as his skin was filled with good cheer, and whose spirits rose with eating, as some men's do with drink. He could not help, too, rolling his large eyes round him as he ate, and chuckling with the possibility that he might one day be lord of all this scene of almost unimaginable luxury and splen- dor. Then, he thought, how soon he'd turn his back upon the old school-house ; snap his fingers in the face of Hans Van Ripper, and every other niggardly patron, and kick any itinerant pedagogue out of doors that should dare to call him com- rade! Old Baltus Van Tassel moved about among his guests with a face dilated with content and good-humor, round and jolly as the harvest moon. His hospitable attentions were brief, but expressive, being confined to a shake of the hand, a slap on the shoulder, a loud laugh, and a pressing invitation to " fall to, and help themselves.'' And now the sound of the music from the common room, or hall, summoned to the dance. The musician was an old gray-headed negro, who had been the itinerant orchestra of the neighborhood for more than half a century. His instru- ment was as old and battered as himself. The greater part of the time he scraped away on two or three strings, accompany- ing every movement of the bow with a motion of the head ; bowing almost to the ground, and stamping with his foot when- ever a fresh couple were to start. Ichabod prided himself upon his danc- ing as much as upon his vocal powers. Not a limb, not a fibre about him was idle ; and to have seen his loosely hung frame in full motion, and clattering about the room, you would have thought St. Vitus himself, that blessed patron of the dance, was figuring before you in person. He was the admiration of all the negroes ; who, having gathered, of all ages and sizes, from the farm and the neighbor- hood, stood forming a pyramid of shining black faces at every door and window ; gazing with delight at the scene ; rolling their white eye-balls, and showing grin- ning rows of ivory from ear to ear. How could the flogger of urchins be otherwise than animated and joyous? the lady of his heart was his partner in the dance, and smiling graciously in reply to all his amorous oglings ; while Brom Bones, sorely smitten with love and jealousy, sat brooding by himself in one corner. When the dance was at an end, Ichabod was attracted to a knot of the sager folks, who, with Old Van Tassel, sat smoking at one end of the piazza, gossiping over former times, and drawling out long stories about the war. This neighborhood, at the time of which I am speaking, was one of those highly favored places which abound with chronicle and great men. The British and American line had run near it during the war ; it had, therefore, been the scene of marauding, and infested with refugees, cow-boys, and all kind of border chivalry. Just sufficient time had elapsed to enable each story-teller to dress up his tale with a little becoming fiction, and, in the indis- tinctness of his recollection, to make him- self the hero of every exploit. There was the story of Doffue Mart- ling, a large blue-bearded Dutchman, who had nearly taken a British frigate with an old iron nine-pounder from a mud breastwork, only that his gun burst at the sixth discharge. And there was an old gentleman who shall be nameless, being too rich a mynheer to be lightly men- tioned, who, in the battle of Whiteplains, being an excellent master of defence, parried a musket-ball with a small-sword, insomuch that he absolutely felt it whiz round the blade, and glance off at the hilt ; in proof of which he was ready at any time to show the sword, with the hilt a little bent. There were several more that had been equally great in the field, not one of whom but was persuaded that he had a considerable hand in bringing the war to a happy termination. But all these were nothing to the talea THE LEGEXD OF SLEEPY HOLLOW. 275 of ghosts and apparitions that succeeded. The neighborhood is rich in legendary treasures of the kind. Local tales and superstitious thrive best in these sheltered, long-settled retreats ; but are trampled under foot, by the shifting throng that forms the population of most of our coun- try places. Besides, there is no encour- agement for ghosts in most of our villages, for they have scarcely had time to finish their first nap, and turn themselves in their graves, before their surviving friends have travelled away from the neighbor- hood : so that when they turn out at night to walk their rounds, they have no ac- quaintance left to call upon. This is perhaps the reason why we so seldom hear of ghosts except in our long-estab- lished Dutch communities. The immediate cause, however, of the prevalence of supernatural stories in these parts, was doubtless owing to the vicinity of Sleepy Hollow. There was a contag- ion in the very air that blew from that haunted region ; it breathed forth an at- mosphere of dreams and fancies infecting all the land. Several of the Sleepy Hol- low people were present at Van Tassel's, and, as usual, were doling out their wild and wonderful legends. Many dismal tales were told about funeral trains, and mourning cries and wailings heard and seen about the great tree where the unfor- tunate Major Andre was taken, and which stood in the neighborhood. Some men- tion was made also of the woman in white, that haunted the dark glen at Raven Rock, and was often heard to shriek on winter nights before a storm, having per- ished there in the snow. The chief part of the stories, however, turned upon the favorite spectre of Sleepy Hollow, the headless horseman, who had been heard several times of late, patrolling the coun- try; and it is said, tethered his horse nightly among the graves in the church yard. The sequestered situation of this church seems always to have made it a favorite haunt of troubled spirits. It stands on a knoll, surrounded by locust trees and lofty elms, from among which its decent, whitewashed walls shine modestly forth, like Christian purity, beaming through the shades of retirement. A gentle slope descends from it to a silver sheet of water, bordered by high trees, between which, peeps may be caught at the blue hills of the Hudson. To look upon its grass- grown yard, where the sunbeams seem to sleep so quietly, one would think that there at least the dead might rest in peace. On one side of the church extends a wide woody dell, along which raves a large brook among broken rocks and trunks of fallen trees. Over a deep black part of the stream, not far from the church, was formerly thrown a wooden bridge ; the road that led to it, and the bridge itself, were thickly shaded by overhanging trees, which cast a gloom about it, even in the day-time ; but occasioned a fearful dark- ness at night. Such was one of the favor- ite haunts of the headless horseman, and the place where he was most frequently encountered. The tale was told of old Brouwer, a most heretical disbeliever in ghosts, how he met the horseman return- ing from his foray into Sleepy Hollow, and was obliged to get up behind him ; how they galloped over bush and brake, over hill and swamp, until they reached the bridge ; when the horseman suddenly turned into a skeleton, threw old Brouwer into the brook, and sprang away over the tree-tops with a clap of thunder. This story was immediately matched by a thrice marvellous adventure of Brom Bones, who made light of the galloping Hessian as an arrant jockey. He affirmed, that on returning one night from the neighboring village of Sing-Sing, he had been overtaken by this midnight trooper ; that he had offered to race with him for a bowl of punch, and should have won it i too, for Daredevil beat the goblin horse all hollow, but just as they came to the church bridge, the Hessian bolted and vanished in a flash of fire. All these tales, told in that drowsy un- dertone with which men talk in the dark, the countenances of the listeners only now and then receiving a casual gleam from the glare of a pipe, sunk deep in the mind of Ichabod. He repaid them in kind with large extracts from his invaluable author, Cotton Mather, and added many marvellous events that had taken place in his native State of Connecticut, and fearful sights which he had seen in his nightly walks about Sleepy Hollow. The revel now gradually broke up. The old farmers gathered together their families in their wagons, and were heard for some time rattling along the hollow roads, and over the distant hills. Some 276 THE LEGEND OF SLEEPY HOLLOW. of the damsels mounted on pillions behind their favorite swains, and their light- hearted laughter, mingling- with the clat- ter of hoofs, echoed along the silent wood- lands, sounding fainter and fainter, until they gradually died away and the late scene of noise and frolic was all silent and deserted. Ichabod only lingered be- hind, according to the custom of country lovers, to have a te'te-a-te'te with the heir- ess ; fully convinced that he was now on the high road to success. What passed at this interview I will not pretend to say, for in fact I do not know. Something, however, I fear me, must have gone wrong, for he certainly sallied forth, after no great interval, with an air quite desolate and chapfallen Oh, these women ! these women ! Could that girl have been play- ing off any of her coquettish tricks? Was her encouragement of the poor peda- gogue all a mere sham to secure her con- quest of his rival ? Heaven only knows, not I ! Let it suffice to say, Ichabod stole forth with the air of one who had been sacking a henroost, rather than a fair lady's heart. Without looking to the right or left to notice the scene of rural wealth, on which he had so often gloated, he went straight to the stable, and with several hearty cuffs and kicks, roused his steed most uncourteously from the com- fortable quarters in which he was soundly sleeping, dreaming of mountains of corn and oats, and whole valleys of timothy and clover. It was the very witching time of night that Ichabod, heavy-hearted and crest- fallen, pursued his travel homewards along the sides of the lofty hills which rise above Tarry Town, and which he had tra- versed so cheerily in the afternoon. The hour was as dismal as himself. Far be- low him the Tappaan Zee spread its dusky and indistinct waste of waters, with here and there the tall mast of a sloop, riding quietly at anchor under the land. In the dead hush of midnight, he could even hear the barking of the watch-dog from the opposite shore of the Hudson ; but it was so vague and faint as only to give an idea of his distance from this faithful com- panion of man. Now and then, too, the long-drawn crowing of a cock, accidentally awakened, would sound far, far off, from some farm-house away among the hills but it was like a dreaming sound in his ear. No signs of life occurred near him, but occasionally the melancholy chirp of a cricket, or perhaps the guttural twang of a bull-frog, from a neighboring marsh, as if sleeping uncomfortably, and turning suddenly in his bed. All the stories of ghosts and goblins that he had heard in the afternoon, now came crowding upon his recollection. The night drew darker and darker; the stars seemed to sink deeper in the sky, and driving clouds occasionally hid them from his sight. He had never felt so lonely and dismal. He was, moreover, approach- ing the very place where many of the scenes of the ghost stories had been laid. In the centre of the road stood an enor- mous tulip-tree, which towered like a giant above all the other trees of the neighborhood, and formed a kind of landmark. Its limbs were gnarled and fantastic, large enough to form trunks for ordinary trees, twisting down almost to the earth, and rising again into the air. It was connected with the tragical story of the unfortunate Andre, who had been taken prisoner hard by, and was universally known by the name of Major Andre's tree. The common people regarded it with a mixture of respect and superstition, partly out of sympathy for the fate of its ill-starred namesake, and partly from the tales of strange sights, and doleful lamen- tations, told concerning it. As Ichabod approached this fearful tree, he began to whistle ; he thought his whistle was answered : it was but a blast sweeping sharply through the dry branches. As he approached a little nearer, he thought he saw something white, hanging in the midst of the tree : he paused, and ceased whistling ; but on looking more narrowly, perceived that it was a place where the tree had been scathed by lightning, and the white wood laid bare. Suddenly he heard a groan his teeth chattered, and his knees smote against the saddle : it was but the rubbing of one huge bough upon another, as they were swayed about by the breeze. He passed the tree in safety, but new perils lay before him. About two hundred yards from the tree, a small brook crossed the road, and ran into a marshy and thickly-wooded glen, known by the name of Wiley's Swamp. A few rough logs, laid side by side, served for a bridge over this stream. On that side of the road where the brook entered THE LEGEND OF SLEEPY HOLLOW. 277 the wood, a group of oaks and chesnuts matted thick with wild grape-vines threw a cavernous gloom over it. To pas this bridge, was the severest trial. It wa at this identical spot that the unfortunat Andre was captured, and under th covert of those chesnuts and vines were the sturdy yeomen concealed who sur prised him. This has ever since been considered a haunted stream, and fearfu are the feelings of the school-boy who has to pass it alone after dark. As he approached the stream, his heart began to thump ; he summoned up, how ever, all his resolution, gave his horse bal: a score of kicks in the ribs, and attempted to dash briskly across the bridge ; but in- stead of starting forward, the perverse old animal made a lateral movement, and ran broadside against the fence. Ichabod, whose fears increased with the delay, jerked the reins 'on the other side, and kicked lustily with the contrary foot : it was all in vain ; his steed started, it is true, but it was only to plunge to the op- posite side of the road into a thicket of brambles and alder-bushes. The school- master now bestowed both whip and heel upon the starveling ribs of old Gun- powder, who dashed forward, snuffling and snorting, but came to a stand just by the bridge, with a suddenness that had nearly sent his rider sprawling over his head. Just at this moment a plashy tramp by the side of the bridge caught the sensitive ear of Ichabod. In the dark shadow of the grove, on the margin of the brook, he beheld something huge, mis- shapen, black and towering. It stirred not, but seemed gathered up in the gloom, like same gigantic monster ready to spring upon the traveller. The hair of the affrighted pedagogue rose upon his head with terror. What was to be done ? To turn and fly was now too late; and besides, what chance was there of escaping ghost or goblin, if such it was, which could ride upon the wings of the wind ? Summoning up, therefore, a show of courage, he demanded in stammering accents " Who are you ? " He received no reply. He repeated his demand in a still more agitated voice. Still there was no answer. Once more he cudgelled the sides of the inflexible Gun- powder, and shutting his eyes, broke forth with involuntary fervor into a psalm tune. Just then the shadowy object of alarm put itself in motion, and with a scramble and a bound, stood at once in the middle of the road. Though the night was dark and dismal, yet the form of the unknown might in some degree be ascer- tained. He appeared to be a horseman of large dimensions, and mounted on a black horse of powerful frame. He made no offer of molestation or sociability, but kept aloof on one side of the road, jogging along on the blind side of old Gunpowder, who had now got over his fright and way- wardness. Ichabod, who had no relish for this strange midnight companion, and be- thought himself of the adventure of Brom Bones with the galloping Hessian, now quickened his steed, in hopes of leaving him behind. The stranger, however, quickened his horse to an equal pace. Ichabod pulled up, and fell into a walk, thinking to lag behind the other did the same. His heart began to sink within him ; he endeavored to resume his psalm tune, but his parched tongue clove to the roof of his mouth, and he could not utter a stave. There was something in the moody and dogged silence of this pertina- ious companion, that was mysterious and appalling. It was soon fearfully accounted For. On mounting a rising ground, which wrought the figure of his fellow-traveller n relief against the sky, gigantic in height, and muffled in a cloak, Ichabod was horror- struck, on perceiving that he was head- ess ! but his horror was still more in- creased, on observing that the head, which should have rested on his shoulders, was carried before him on the pommel of his saddle I His terror rose to despera- ion ; he rained a shower of kicks and )lows upon Gunpowder, hoping, by a sudden movement, to give his companion : slip but the spectre started full ump with him. Away, then, they dashed, through thick and thin ; stones lying and sparks flashing at every bound, chabod's flimsy garments fluttered in the air, as he stretched his long lank body away over his horse's head, in the eager- ness of his flight. They had now reached the road which urns off to Sleepy Hollow ; but Gun- >owder, who seemed possessed with a de- non, instead of keeping up it, made an >pposite turn, and plunged headlong down ill to the left. This road leads through a sandy hollow, shaded by trees for about 278 THE LEGEND OF SLEEPY HOLLOW. a quarter of a mile, where it crosses the bridge famous in goblin story ; and just beyond swells the green knoll on which stands the whitewashed church. As yet the panic of the steed had given his unskilful rider an apparent advantage in the chase ; but just as he had got half- way through the hollow, the girths of the saddle gave way, and he felt it slipping from under him. He seized it by the pommel, and endeavored to hold it firm, but in vain ; and had just time to save himself by clasping old Gunpowder round tke neck, when the saddle fell to the earth, and he heard it trampled under foot by his pursuer. For a moment the terror of Hans Van Eipper's wrath passed across his mind for it was his Sunday saddle; but this was no time for petty fears : the goblin was hard on his haunches ; and, (unskilful rider that he was!) he had much ado to maintain his seat; sometimes slipping on one side, sometimes on an- other, and sometimes jolted on the high ridge of his horse's backbone, with a vio- lence that he verily feared would cleave him asunder. An opening in the tree now cheered him with the hopes that the church bridge was at hand. The wavering reflection of a silver star in the bosom of the brook told him that he was not mistaken. He saw the walls of the church dimly glaring under the trees beyond. He recollected the place where Brom Bones' ghostly competitor had disappeared. " If I can but reach that bridge," thought Ichabod, " I am safe." Just then he heard the black steed panting and blowing close be- hind him ; he even fancied that he felt his hot breath. Another convulsive kick in the ribs, and old Gunpowder sprung upon the bridge ; he thundered over the resounding planks ; he gained the opposite side, and now Ichabod cast a look behind to see if his pursuer should vanish, accord- ing to rule, in a flash of fire and brim- stone. Just then he saw the goblin rising in his stirrups, and in the very act of hurling his head at him. Ichabod en- deavored to dodge the horrible missile, but too late. It encountered his cranium with a tremendous crash he was tumbled headlong into the dust, and Gunpowder, the black steed, and the goblin rider, passed by like a whirlwind. The next morning the old horse was found without his saddle, and with the bridle under his feet, soberly cropping the grass at his master's gate. Ichabod did not make his appearance at breakfast dinner-hour came, but no Ichabod. The boys assembled at the school-house, and strolled idly about the banks of the brook ; but no schoolmaster. Hans Van Kipper now began to feel some uneasiness about the fate of poor Ichabod, and his saddle. An inquiry was set on foot, and after dili- gent investigation they came upon his traces. In one part of the road leading to the church, was found the saddle trampled in the dirt; the tracks of horses' hoofs deeply dented in the road, and evi- dently at furious speed, were traced to the bridge, beyond which, on the bank of a broad part of the brook, where the water ran deep and black, was found the hat of the unfortunate Ichabod, and close beside it a shattered pumpkin. The brook was searched, but the body of the schoolmaster was not to be dis- covered. Hans Van Kipper, as executor of his estate, examined the bundle which contained all his worldly effects. They consisted of two shirts and a half; two stocks for the neck ; a pair or two of wor- sted stockings ; an old pair of corduroy small-clothes; a rusty razor; a book of psalm tunes full of dog's ears; and a broken pitch-pipe. As to the books and furniture of the school-house, they belonged to the community, excepting Cotton Mather's History of Witchcraft, a New-England Almanac, and a book of dreams and fortune-telling ; in which last was a sheet of foolscap much scribbled and blotted, by several fruitless attempts to make a copy of verses in honor of the heiress of Van Tassel. These magic books and the poetic scrawl were forthwith con- signed to the flames by Hans Van Ripper ; who, from that time forward, determined to send his children no more to school ; observing, that he never knew any good come of this same reading and writing. Whatever money the schoolmaster pos- sessed, and he had received his quarter's pay but a day or two before, he must have had about his person at the time of his disappearance. The mysterious event caused much spe- culation at the church on the following Sunday. Knots of gazers and gossips were A REJECTED MANUSCRIPT. 279 collected in the churchyard, at the bridge, and at the spot where the hat and pump- kin had been found. The stories of Brouwer, of Bones, and a whole budget of others, were called to mind ; and when they had diligently considered them all, and compared them with the symptoms of the present case, they shook their heads, and came to the conclusion, that Ichabod had been carried off by the galloping Hessian. As he was a bachelor, and in nobody's debt, nobody troubled his head any more about him ; the school was removed to a different quarter of the Hollow, and another pedagogue reigned in his stead. It is true, an old farmer, who had been down to New York on a visit several years after, and from whom this account of the ghostly adventure was received, brought home the intelligence that Icha- bod Crane was still alive ; that he had left the neighborhood partly through fear of the goblin and Hans Van Ripper, and part- ly in mortification at having been suddenly dismissed by the heiress ; that he had changed his quarters to a distant part of the country ; had kept school and studied law at the same time ; had been admitted to the bar; turned politician; election- eered ; written for the newspapers ; and finally, had been made a Justice of the Ten Pound Court. Brom Bones, too, who, shortly after his rival's disappear- ance, conducted the blooming Katrina in triumph to the altar, was observed to look exceedingly knowing whenever the story of Ichabod was related, and always burst into a hearty laugh at the mention of the pumpkin ; which led some to suspect that he knew more about the matter than he chose to tell. The old. country wives, however, who are the best judges of these matters, main- tain to this day, that Ichabod was spirited ;i way by supernatural means; and it is a favorite story often told about the neigh- borhood round the winter evening fire. The bridge became more than ever an ob- ject of superstitious awe ; and that may be the reason why the road has been altered of late years, so as to approach the church by the border of the mill-pond. The school-house being deserted, soon fell to decav, and was reported to be haunted by the ghost of the unfortunate pedagogue ; and the plough-boy, loitering homeward of a still summer evening, has often fancied his voice at a distance, chanting a melancholy psalm tune among the tranquil solitudes of Sleepy Hollow. END OF THE LEGEND OF SLEEPY HOLLOW. A REJECTED MANUSCRIPT. ONCE upon a time an aspiring author presented to M. Monvel, the famous comic actor, a manuscript tied with red tape, and begged him to give an impartial opinion of the production. The comedian promised to do so, and the young man the comedian thought him very young waited for six months and more before he inquired as to his friend's verdict. At length he put the solemn question, "Was the piece adapted for the stage?'' The comedian promised to let him know in a day or two, so three more weeks went by. Then again the author importuned the actor and begged him not to defer his hopes any longer. "Well, then," said the actor, " the fact is your play is de- cidedly clever, I may say particularly clever, but it is not quite' the thing for the stage ; the scenes, the acting, the de- velopment of the plot, the tag, in fact it requires adapting to the stage before it could be possibly produced. I must decline it; unwillingly, of course, but still " The young author interrupted him: "Will you be kind enough to point out a fault ? " The actor was con- fused ; he toyed with the manuscript, still criticising its defects ; the author seized it from him, untied the tape, unrolled the paper, and with a laugh showed him that the whole was blank ! The comedian had never untied the packet. A DISTINCTION. An eminent judge used to say that, in his opinion, the very best thing ever said by a witness to a coun- sel, was the reply given to Missing, the barrister, at the time leader of his circuit. He was defending a prisoner charged with stealing a donkey. The prosecutor had left the animal tied up to a gate, and when he returned it was gone. Missing was very severe in his examination of the wit- nesvs. " Do you mean to say witness, the donkey was stolen from that gate?" mean to say, sir," giving the judge and then the jury a sly look, "the ass was Missing." 280 MR. McKENZlE ON THE TA1UFF BEN BLOCK. BEN BLOCK was a vet* ran of naval renown, And renown was his only reward ; For the Board still neglected his merits to crown, As no int'rest he held with my lord. Yet brave as old Benbow was sturdy Old Ben, And he'd laugh at the cannon's loud roar; When the death-dealing broadside made worms' meat of men, And the scuppers were streaming with gore. Nor could a lieutenant's poor stipend pro- voke The staunch tar to despise scanty prog ; For a biscuit he'd crack, turn his quid, crack his joke, And drown care in a jorum of grog. Thus, year after year, in a subaltern state, Poor Ben for his king fought and bled ; Till time had unroof d all the thatch from his pate, And the hair from his temples had fled. When, on humbly saluting, with sinciput bare, A First Lord of the Admiralty once ; Says his loidship, " Lieutenant, you 've lost all your hair, Since I last had a peep at your sconce. " "Why, my lord," replied Ben, "it with truth may be said, While a bald pate I long have stood under, There have so many captains walked over my head, That to see me quite scalp'd 't were no wonder." THOMAS DIBDIN, 1771-1814. MR. McKENZlE ON THE TARIFF COMMISSION. f Among the humorists at the bar and in public life, for which Kentucky hag become notable, James A. McKenzin, Beprs*ntativ in Congress from 1877 to 1883, from the Second District, is to be reckoned. Born la Christian County in 1840, Mr. McKenzie received a common school education, read law, anil soon after being admitted to the bar was elected to the Kentucky Legis- lature. A fanner by occupation, rather than a poli- tician, he has declined again to be a candidate h-r Congress, although his few speeches in that body marked by broad humor, argumentative force, and great powers of satire, have given him much reputation, in spite of the fact that he has been one of the most modest and unobtrusive members of the House.] [Extract from Mr. McKenzie's speech on the proposed Tariff Commission, in the House of Representatives, April 20th, 1882.] ME. CHAIRMAN, it is possible to appre- ciate, but it is not possible to express the embarrassment under which I labor on this occasion. At the close of the debate, and after so many exhaustive speeches upon the subject, I do not expect to say anything either new or novel. The ground has been thoroughly trodden over. The reapers of Boaz have so thoroughly gather- ed and garnered the field that there is nothing left behind them for a modest and unpretentious Ruth like my self to glean. I am, then, only going to indulge perhaps in some of the hackneyed phrases which have been worn threadbare in this dis- cussion. I do not think the facts can be too often stated, I do not think that even the scrolls of the heavens could contain the enormities, the outrages, and absurd iniquities of this tariff system. This tariff discussion has been con- ducted at such great length that I doubt not the outside world is beginning to con- clude that Congressmen " think they are under a sacramental obligation to exhaust every subject with a prolixity which scorns consideration of the preciousness of time and brevity of human life." Yet, notwithstanding the great length to which this discussion has been extended, I shall ask the indulgence of the com- mittee while I state as briefly as possible some of my objections to the bill, and discuss in a general way the subject to which it relates. I pause here and ask any friend of this bill, any friend of protection, any friend of the existing tariff, if in any of the papers on file in this House the name of a single farmer appears as demanding or urging the passage of the bill. We have without number the petitions of the manufacturing interests of every section signed, I doubt not, by their own em- ployees, whose bread and meat and the shelter over the heads of whose families depend upon the dictum of their em- MR. McKENZIE ON THE TARIFF COMMISSION. 281 ^loyers. I have no doubt we have cart- xoads of such petitions on file here ; but I ask gentlemen who are pleading for the passage of the bill to answer if the name of a single producer of the great cereals of America is on file in favor of its passage ? Railroads, doubtless, petition for it ; banks petition for it ; the cotton manufac- turers petition for it ; the spinners of wool petition for it ; manufacturers of Bessemer steel petition for it ; the manufacturers of iron petition for it ; and I ask you, gentle- men on the other side, who are presumed to be the especial champions of this bill, if in all the annals of the literature of petition on this subject the name of a single American farmer appears? They are satisfied that they have been made for years the victims of this odious system of protection ; and every paper on file asking for relief to the muscle that toils in the corn and tobacco fields of this great country asks for relief from the invidious, prescriptive, infamous system that dis- criminates against their labor and in favor of the capital and the protected industries of the land. There is not much poetry in this sort of statement, gentlemen, but it is God's eternal truth. I now come to the consideration of a question which I approach with many misgivings. I do not want to say any- thing unkind ; it is not in my nature. I have served here a long time, and I ap- peal to gentlemen on both sides of the House if I have not been uniformly courteous and considerate of their feelings. But I am going to discuss a question which has somewhat of personality in it. I trust I shall be able to deal with it with that degree of deftness which will leave no sting behind. I come to contemplate the Committee on Ways and Means, and I pause in order to allow the average Con- gressional mind to grasp the vastness of this subject. Now I desire to ask why has not the Committee on Ways and Means, that mighty body which is the arbiter eleganti- arum of this House, and which controls absolutely its economic destinies, why has not this committee revised the tariff? Is it possible that they are willing to confess in the face of Heaven and men that they are incapable of grappling with the grand questions which are referred to them by this House? I am not disposed, gentle- men, to entertain as poor an opinion of that committee as they seem by their acts to entertain of themselves, and, God knows t modesty is not the weakness of the average American Congressman. If I were to refer to the Congressional Directory, the finest repository of sup- pressed vanity that God Almighty ever permitted, I could satisfy you that divine wisdom never permitted a book to emanate from the American press, which contained as much modest assumption. Suppose I were to entertain the House upon the theory that this bill is a confession of weakness, that it is a confession that the Committee on Ways and Means of this House are not equal, intellectually, to the great task of grappling with the subject of the tariif, and I submit to every member upon this floor, in common fairness and justice, if the bill does not show that to be the fact? Suppose, following out that idea, I were to refer to the biographical sketches so kindly furnished to Mr. Ben. Perley Poore by these gentlemen them- selves ; suppose I were to trace out the intellectual estimates placed upon them- selves by these gentlemen and I pre- sume they wrote the biographies them- selves. But I will riot do it, because I have not now time. Still I invite the attention of the House and the country to the modest, shrinking, girlish estimate placed upon themselves by these God- fearing men. I had begun to think, Mr. Chairman, that I had manifested a spirit of modesty myself, a sort of shrinking nature upon the floor of the House ; but when I came to read these sketches by the members of the Committee on Ways and Means pub- lished in the Congressional Directory, I felt that I had been bold, self-assuming, and presumptuous, and was no longer en- titled to believe myself a modest man. I invite attention to them ; no more in- teresting reading exists in the annals of literature since the Canterbury Tales were written. Look at the ages of these men. They are no spring chickens. They are about as thoroughly matured a set of in- dividuals as I have ever encountered in this House. I thought I had the whole matter before me here, unless some of them have been too modest to insert it in the Record; but I will not take up the time of the committee now by reading them ; still, if gentlemen choose to look they will find here about as interesting 282 MR. McKENZIE ON THE TARIFF COMMISSION. reading as they ever came across, and they will see that the compiler of this Directory has succeeded in getting their ages, I suppose after the fashion of the census officers, who, when they found an old maid who declined to give her age, declared that they would set her down at eighty years, by which they generally managed to get a response. As the Representative of 180,000 people on this floor, I demand of these gentlemen who support this bill that they inform this House what necessity exists for making the Executive the autocrat of the legisla- tive department? We have had a good deal of experience in this commission business. In the Forty-fourth Congress we created a commission that did not turn out in a very satisfactory sort of way. It succeeded in foisting upon the Ameri- can people as the President of the United States, a man who had as much moral right to the office as I have to a quarter section of land in the moon; and by the way, it was an administration that will go down in history remarkable for but two things, weak vetoes and cold water at state dinners. I will ask the untamed patriots on the Republican side of the House what is the necessity of placing in the hands of an accidental President the power to create the commission ? Why not create it ourselves ? Have you no confidence in your fellow-members? I have, on this side of the aisle. Will not your constituents, and I use the pronoun " your " when I refer to the members who will vote for this enormity will not your constituents say to you when you shall have enacted this bill into law by your votes, that you have confessed your weakness, confessed your inability to deal with the great economic questions presented for your consideration ? Will they not say you have degraded the legis- lative department of the government by avoiding the duties which they impose upon you? Do you intend to adopt it upon the idea that these people know immeasurably more about the true theory of revenue and protection than we do? An angel direct from Heaven could not make a revelation in regard to the general litera- ture of protection that would illuminate gome members on that side of the House. Are you going to admit the conclusions of these people ; are you going to admit that their conclusions are wiser than any that could possibly be arrived at by the nearly four hundred representatives sent here by the people to look after their interests? Whence their superiority? They ought to go home and run for Co'n- gress. If these people are so much our intellectual and moral superiors, if they are able to deal with these questions, divesting themselves of all partisan pre- judices, if they are able to deal with them in a spirit of fairness, justice, and liberality toward every section, then why in the name of all that is wonderful do not the American people recognize their superior abilities and send them here to Congress in place of this Committee on Ways and Means, that solemnly and gravely admits, in the face of God and man that they have not the ability to tackle this ques- tion ? I feel sorry for that committee ; I think of it in the night-watches. It excites the commiseration of a heart naturally tender, when I awake at night and think that the American people are here through their representatives with a Committee on Ways and Means that comes before the House and blubberingly says, " We can- not tackle this thing ourselves, but we have got a gang of fellows outside that are able to do it at $10 per day and found." I want to ask you another question on the subject of Iron (and that is where the iron enters into my soul) ; on the subject of iron will the consumers or manu- facturers be heard or heeded before this august tribunal of nine? On the subject of woolen goods will the ragged and suffering poor that pay the enormous duty on the wool and the manufactured products that constitute their miserable squalid covering have an audience ? Will ear be given to the plaints of the lowly, the stricken, the oppressed, and an effort made to relieve their grievances ? Or will these doctrinaires be wined and dined by the manufacturing and protected interests, and listen to appeals whereby the thumb- screws of taxation and protection can be so applied as to wring an additional penny from the unwilling hand of penury and want ? Will the shivering, ague-stricken people of our malarial bottoms be listened to in their cry for untaxed medicinal herbs, or will the quinine kings of Phila- delphia and New York be heard in their efforts to restore a tax on quinine which, if ever enacted, should be styled A CONSCIENTIOUS EPITAPH. 283 "An act for the promotion of malarial fever?" These are questions, as Lord Byron said, at once answerless and yet incessant ; they appeal to our sense of justice and to all the finer, higher, and nobler instincts and impulses of our better natures. Little as you may think it, gentlemen, Republicans are not wholly depraved. I say this in the interest of humanity, I say this for the general credit of our common country. It is an admission not extorted from me, but voluntarily made because I realize it, and I ask them, notwithstanding the great burden of sin and iniquity that hangs upon them like a cloud, and not- withstanding the great dust and smoke that obscure the few good actions they have done, I ask them in the name of the shivering people of our malarial bottoms, I ask them in the interest of the half- starved and half-naked people of the whole country, if they are willing to perpetuate a system of mere party supre- macy that works so great ill and injustice to that class of our people that needs the protection of your laws. Pay attention to this. Here is an in- congruity which possibly has not occurred to the occult mind of the average tariff investigator. I invite the attention of both sides to one of the greatest economic curiosities presented in this great national museum which we have been for two weeks parading before the American people. Under the general law now in force on the subject, the Holy Scriptures, printed in our mother-tongue, are for- bidden to enter the ports of the country without the payment of a duty, and yet during the last Congress the Committee on Ways and Means this committee for which I have such unbounded respect, and which in the face of their protestation I have endeavored to defend through their agent, Mr. Tucker, of Virginia, re- ported, and this House passed a bill to place Bibles printed in the Chinese lan- guage upon the free list. Now, think of this ; it will grow on you the more you think about it. Thus while we are enacting a law to prohibit the Chinamen from coming to this country, we are at the same time legislating to give Chinese Bibles an advantage over King James's version and the new transla- tion. Mr. Chairman, with all your sense of fairness, which I am quite ready to con- cede, I appeal to you as the organ of this committee, if a more laughable absurdity, incongruity, and injustice in the interest of morals, and the reformation of the American people ever was presented than the fact that after we prevent the China- man through the aid of my friend from California [Mr. Page] and his confreres from coming to this country, we admit the Bible printed in his language, which no man born of American parentage ever did or ever will understand, at the same time imposing a duty of twenty-five per cent, on King James's translation, which has sent all our ancestors to Heaven. God knows if ever there was a time in the history of the American people when free Bibles were needed it is to-day. Just look on that side of the House. I ask any moral reformer, I appeal to Moody and Sankey, I appeal to all the evangelists now living, in the name of mercy to come and exercise their best endeavors just be- yond that aisle. I am willing for the attempt to be made to convert these bold, bad people, notwithstanding I realize the fact that it will be an enormous strain upon the general plan of salvation. A CONSCIENTIOUS EPITAPH. How beautiful, how noble is the poet's art when used to sooth the mourning heart ! One of the sweetest and tenderest specimens of elegiac verse has been com- posed by an English gentleman who ac- cidentally got the remains of four wives somewhat mixed during their removal to a new burial ground. He was deter- mined, was Mr. Sparks, that there should be no mistake as to the various Mrs. Sparkses' last abode; and accordingly calmed his wounded spirit and displayed strict truthfulness by the composition of the following beautiful inscription: " Here lies Jane (and probably part of Susan) Sparks." "Sacred to the memory of Maria (to say nothing of Jane and Hannah) Sparks." " Stranger, pause and drop a tear. For Susan Sparks lies buried here ; Mingled in some perplexing manner, With Jane, Maria and portions of Han- nah." 84 INFLEXIBILITY; OR HOW SOME WOMEN MANAGE. INFLEXIBILITY ; OR HOW SOME WOMEN MANAGE. 1 A DRAMATIC SKETCH. SCENE : Berkeley Sguare. Lady Mary Leslie's Boudoir. PERSONS: LADY MARY and THE HONORABLE MRS. LESLIE. Mrs. Leslie. I'll not go ; that's positive- sure. Lady Mary, you won't let Mr. Leslie drag you down to that horrible old place ; just to humour the unreasonable whims of our honoured papa and mamma-in-law, by keeping Christmas with them, and the bats and owls, and old family portraits, (monsters ! how I hate the sight of them !) instead of joining the select of Beau- Vallon, where you know we have half engaged ourselves to take part in the private theatricals, and half promised for our sposi. Lady Mary. Yes ; without their know- ing anything of the matter, poor dear souls ! Mrs. Leslie. That does not signify. I've told Colonel Leslie, he must put off the old people ; and he must go with me to Beau-Vallon ; so that point's settled ; you have only to be as determined with his brother, and when we once get them down, they can't refuse to take the characters cast for them. Mr. Leslie will make a capital Jaffier, and my 'honest man ' (he always puts me in mind of Lord G.), will do well enough for one of the Senators. Lady Mary. Upon my word, you've arranged it all admirably, ma petite soaur ! But has Colonel Leslie actually given up the point of going down to Hendon Castle ! Mrs. Leslie. Oh, as good as given it up ! though not without some prosing, about duty and affection, and Lord and Lady Hendon's disappointment, and old family customs, and all that. But he knows it's no use to persevere, when I'm determined. I wish you had half my spirit. Lady Mary. Perhaps it would not succeed quite so well with my ' Giove 1 From the Literary Souvenir, 1829. Omnipotente/ as a certain degree of deli- cate management, which stands me in good stead, par fois. A besieged fortress is not always taken by storm, you know. There are such ways and means as sap- ping and mining. Mrs. Leslie. Why, you've been study- ing Vauban 1 But just as you please ; manage it your own way ; only manage it. Lady Mary. That is precisely what I mean to do ; and to tell you the truth (& 1'oreille), my theatrical wardrobe is al- ready packed up. Mrs. Leslie. Well done, conjugal sub- mission! Mine is not yet ordered; but I'll not lose a minute, and I shall take down a senator's dress for Colonel Leslie ; you'd better settle about Jaffier's. Au revoir. [Exit. Lady Mary. Au revoir, ma petite sceur 1 Every one works in her own way. Enter the Honourable Mr. Leslie, in great indignation. Mr. Leslie. Upon my soul, it's too bad ! My brother's a fool! an absolute fool. By heaven ! if I had such a wife Lady Mary ! of course, your arrangements are all made for Sunday. I won't start a minute later than ten o'clock, remember you know we must be at Hendon at half-past five the next day, for I make it a point, never to infringe on any of Lord Hendon's good old-fashioned rules and customs, and he keeps to his six o'clock dinner hour. Lady Mary. Rather horrid, to be sure ; but you know I have no will but yours, love ! I suppose, Colonel and Mrs. Leslie will be equally punctual ? Mr. Leslie. Colonel Leslie 's a fool, and his wife. My brother really makes him- self too contemptible. That virago of a woman leads him like a puppy-dog in a string. Would you believe it ? they are actually sending down excuses to Lord and Lady Hendon, and are going to Beau-Vallon I Lady Mary. ' Est il possible ?' What can have induced them to change their plans so suddenly ? Mr. Leslie. Devil take me, if I believe Mrs. Leslie ever intended to go to Hen- don : and for my brother his weakness s inconceivable ! pitiable ! absolutely pititable ! A woman's cat's-paw ! no- .hing better, upon my soul ! Really, Lady INFLEXIBILITY ; OR HOW SOME WOMEN MANAGE. 285 Mary, it would be but charitable in you, to give that coniounded wife of his a few hints on conjuga] duty. I must say, you set her a very different example. Lady Mary. Poor thing ! one must make allowance. Perhaps, if Colonel Leslie was more like you, love ! But Mrs. Leslie and I have drawn very differ- ent lots. Mr. Leslie. My dear Lady Mary, I know you would feel the impropriety of such conduct, exactly as I feel it. So very improper so inconsistent so tri- fling so ill-bred so disrespectful to Lord and Lady Hendon, and their party ! And there were particular reasons, very im- portant reasons, for Lord Hendon 's wish- ing us all to be down there this Christmas I would not absent myself for the uni- verse. It's not a mere Christmas party. Some of the most leading men of the kingdom will be there ! and private arrangements, involving the most im- portant results, may be entered into. That is, we may form you understand me. Lady Mary. Indeed ! but you know, my dear Mr. Leslie, I make it a rule never to" pry into state secrets ; who shall we meet, though? Mr. Leslie. The Duke of Dundee, Lord Wigblock, Lord Archibald McWigion, and Lord Paul Pop (the Duchess, and Lady Wigblock, of course) ; and then you'd never guess you'll be astonished ! we're to be joined by (the thing's a profound secret, remember) by (quite unexpectedly, you understand) by who do you think ? Lady Mary. O, I am such a simpleton at guessing political riddles. By by Mr. Leslie. Let me whisper it in your ear by Mr. Secretary Humbug ! ! ! Lady Mary. ' Est il possible ' ? * J I know but one instance, in which King James II. made a reply of wit and humour. After King William had landed, it was announced to James II. : " Sire, such a great lord has left you, and gone over to King Wil- liam." Prince George, of Denmark, exclaimed, " estll possible ?" Again it was announced to James, that an- other great lord had gone over to William ; " est il possible? "again exclaimed Prince George, and so he did always exclaiming, " est il possible ? " upon every new defection. At list, Prince George himself went OTer to William ; and when his defection was announced to James II., " What, said the King, ' is 'eat il possible' gone too ?" See Bridgewater Papers. Mr. Leslie. All an arranged thing I Understood on both sides ; though, till the meeting has actually taken place, we observe the most profound secrecy. Such measures in agitation such a coalition ! and my brother to absent himself at so momentous a crisis ! A man must have very little patriotic feeling; very little sense of his duty as an Englishman, and his dignity as a man, to suffer himself to be so wound about a woman's finger. And I more than half suspect, Mrs. Les- lie will drag him down to Beau-Vallon, where they say the Carberrys are getting up private theatricals, or some such non- sense. Lady Mary. Ah ! that reminds me, by the by I'd forgotten to tell you we've had an invitation, too ; and to take part in the theatricals ; and they wanted you to accept How luckily you have men- tioned it I must write our excuses directly. Mr. Leslie. Me ! I accept ! what did you say ? I take part in their confounded mummery ! By heavens, that's too good I when the vital interests of the country are at stake, and my mind absorbed in My brother may do as he pleases, play Jerry Sneak, if he likes it. Lady Mary. Oh I Colonel Leslie is to take the part of a senator, for the play will be ' Venice Preserved.' Mr. Leslie. Devilish good that! a senator, by the nonce ! His Gandersfield constituents will find him a rare senator I a zealous representative. When I took my seat for Cackletown Lady Mary. Shall you bring in the Cackletown Inclosure Bill next session ? Mr. Leslie. My dear Lady Mary I though I know your discretion ; yet, on these subjects you understand me one can't be too cautious too scrupulous. Lady Mary. Oh 1 1 would not, for the world, intrude on your confidence. I spoke heedlessly ; for the fact is, I really hardly thought of what I was saying, for [looking at Mr. Leslie with great anxi- ety]. Are you quite well to-day, my dear Mr. Leslie? Mr. Leslie. Yes ; quite well I think. At least, I Bmt why do you ask, eh ? Lady Mary. Oh ! nothing I only fancied ; to own the truth, I've been a little anxious about you this last day or two. I fancied I saw something about your eyes your general appearance, in- 286 INFLEXIBILITY ; OR HOW SOME WOMEN MANAGE. dicativeof a return of those horrid spasms, that but, thank God, I must be mistaken, as you feel so perfectly well. Mr. Leslie. Why, to say the truth, now I think of it, I'm not, exactly ; I have had some old feelings of late [walks to the e' a ^ s ] I certainly look very unwell. ev'lish unlucky, just as we're off for Hendon ! Lady Mary. Why, as to that, if an attack should come on, you know we could send off express, and Sir Henry Halford might be with us in three days. Mr. Leslie. Three days, Lady Mary ! why, I might be dead in three hours! You're vastly considerate vastly kind. I'm infinitely obliged to you. Lady Mary. Nay, my dear Mr. Leslie ! God knows, if I only consulted my own feelings, but, alas ! I know too well what yours are; and that you will run all risks, rather than break engagements so important as Mr. Leslie. Why, my love, they are, to be sure, of the last importance ; but when one's life is at stake, there is a paramount duty which a man owes to himself, and to those tenderly interested for him. And, when I think of our darling boy, and of yourself, my dear Lady Mary, I [Mr. Leslie takes out his pocket handkerchief, Lady Mary applies hers to her eyes]. However, don't distress yourself, my love ! I do not feel very ill ; and I hope there is no great danger of an immediate attack. It is of the utmost importance, that I should meet the party at Hendon. Lady Mary. And I am sure I would not, for the whole world, attempt to in- fluence you in a matter of such moment, yet, Mr. Leslie. [Smiling, and pulling up his neckcloth, with conscious importance] . No, my love, you know any attempt to influence me on any point would be too absurd perfectly ridiculous. But what were you about to add ? Lady Mary. Oh ! nothing of any con- sequence ; only I was just going to observe, that if anything could have reconciled me to give up Hendon, and accept the Car- berrys' invitation, it would have been, that their place is so near town we could have had Sir Henry down in a few hours, in case of but I really think there is no danger. By the by, I do wish, though, their theatricals had been put off till our return; you would have made such a capital J uilier. Mr. Leslie. Oh! they'll find Jaffiers enough without me ; and besides, really with a mind so absorbed as mine is at present, in matters that concern the vital interest of nations I wonder who they'll get to do Jaffier ? Lady Mary. Why, I heard, that in case you could not be prevailed on to take the part, it was to be offered to Harry Dormer ; he's rather a favourite of Lady Carberry's, you know. Mr. Leslie. Harry Dormer ! a rare Jaf- fier he'll make. I wish them joy, I can't think what the devil the women see in that fellow, to make such a fuss about. As for Lady Carberry's taste ! entre nous, her Ladyship was never much to my taste. Harry Dormer act Jaffier ! I could have shown them how it ought to be acted ; but, thank God ! I shall be very differently occupied at Hendon. Lady Mary. By the by, my dear Mr. Leslie, do be cautious about your diet, while we are there. Do you know, they say that since Lord Hendon parted with Petitjean he has picked up some English empoisonneur, who sends up the most atrocious inventions ! Mr. Leslie. Parted with Petitjean Lord Hendon parted with Petitjean! you're not serious, Lady Mary. Lady Mary. Why, didn't you know it, love? I'm astonished! about a paltry hundred a year, that poor Petitjean asked, in addition to his very moderate salary. He only stipulated for that, and to be al- lowed French wines at his table ; (how could Lord Hendon expect him to set his throat on fire with port and sherry!) and yet his very reasonable demands were re- fused. So the invaluable creature was suf- fered to depart, and the Carberrys secured him instantly, on his own terms. Mr. Leslie. Lord Hendon's mad actu- ally insane I Better to have cut off his right-hand than parted with Petitjean who the devil will eat his dinners now ? There's not a man in England, besides Petitjean, who can send up a salmi or a vol au vent, Lord Hendon must take the consequences. If the Duke and Lord Wigblock hear this, I should not be sur- prised, if and who could blame them ? Carberry's a lucky man ! Lady Mary. Yes ; and really, every thing at Beau-Vallon is in the best taste, du meillcur ton. So rigidly exclusive no odd people ever get in there ; and what- APHORISMS FROM JObH BILLINGS. Z87 ever you may say, my dear Mr. Leslie, Lady Carberry is an enchanting woman, though rather too fastidious. She has settled, by the by, that you are the only on my account, my dear Lady Mary and there's a certain duty a man owes to him- selfand, and all that sort of thing and therefore Do you think the part of creature existing who can take Jnffier. Jafner is open yet? Mr. Leslie. Oh ! there's Harry Dormer, Lady Mary. Oh, I'm sure of it or if you know; ha, ha, ha! Harry Dormer ; it were not, Lady Carberry would not why the fellow is not five-feet six ! i hesitate a moment to discard Harry Dor- Lady Mary. And you are just six feet ! mer, and make room for you. But con- that's what Lady Carberry said " such sider a moment, what will Lord and Lady height," said she, "such a figure to set off Hendon say? what will people think? the dress ; et puts des moustaches ; ah, ciel ! " You know how enthusiastic she is. Mr. Leslie. A fascinating creature, certainly, at times, and not without con- siderable tact; but, won't Harry Dormer's mustachios do? ha, ha, ha! they might drop off, to be sure Lady Mary. I hear he does nothing, from morning to night, but practice be- They may fancy you are influenced by me. Mr. Leslie. Oh, no ! they know me too well that would be vastly too absurd ; but, when a man's life's at stake (and I really do not feel well) ; and as my Lord Hendon pleases to forget what is due to his family and friends ; and and then, _ _ _ Beau-Vallon being near town ; that all fore a pier glass; and says you're just sixj things considered, you may accept Lady inrhes too tall for the part. Carberry's invitation, and I will arrange Mr. Leslie. Good ; excellent ; capital 1 1 the other matter. Poor Dormer ! ha, ha, he makes quite sure of it then? Lady Mary. Oh, yes ! for when I was sounded on the subject, I gave no hope whatever of our breaking the Hendon engagement. Mr. Leslie- Confound the Hendon en- gagement ! you might have consulted me. Lady Mary. I never give definite an- swers; and I hate a decisive tone in women. Mr. Leslie. My brother may be led by the nose, if he pleases , but I However, my life ! I know your intention was admir- able, but another time are you sure they've really got Petitjean at Beau-Val- lon? Lady Mary. Oh, positive ! Lord and Lady Cormorant are just come from thence, and they rave about the new chef de cuisine ; and poor Marchmont, who had been down at Hendon, jilant le parfait amour with your sister, you know, and is really devotedly attached to her, told me the other day, he was absolutely obliged to run up to town to get a decent feed. Such a table at Hendon now ! des in- famies he swore he could not stand it a day longer. Mr. Leslie. Nor will I try the experi- ment, by all that's good. Lord Hendon must take the consequences ; for, in my state of health under existing circum- stances taking everything into considera- tion I know how wretched you would be ha ! ' six inches too tall'; capital ! [Exit laughing.] APHORISMS FROM JOSH BILLINGS. THE hardest dollar for a man to git is too often the one he needs the most. SUCKCESS is not allways a sure sighn ov merit, but it iz a fust rate way to suck- ceed. YUNG man alwuss pla to win a game that aint worth winning aint worth playing. THE choicest kompliment that kan be Said to virtew is, that the best lies we av are thoze whitch most resemble the truth. Mi friend, don't never strike a dog thare never waz a dog yet who had haff a chance, who didn't luv sumboddy else better than he loved himself. YUNO man, don't git down on yure knees before the world if yu do, it won't be long before the world will insist upon yure gitting down a peg lower. MEN ov moderate abilitya make the best compaayuns men ov grate wit may be compared to a grate fire, you kant git near enuff to it to git warm, without git- ting burnt. 288 AN EXPERIENCED SHOPPER. NEBUCHADNEZZAR. THE MULE OF THAT NAME. You, Nebuchadnezzah, whoa, sah J Whar is you tryin' to go, sah ? I'd hab you for to know, sah' Ps a holdin' ob de lines. You better stop dat prancin' ; You's pow'ful fond of dancin', But I'll bet my yeah's advancin' Dat I'll cure you ob your shines. Look heah, mule ! Better min' out Fust t'iug you know you'll fin' out How quick I'll wear dis line out On your ugly, stubbo'n back. You needn't try to steal up An' lif ' dat precious heel up ; You's got to plow dis fiel' up, You has, sah, for a fac'. Dar, da? s de way to do it ! He s cornin' right down to it ; Jes' watch him plowin' t'roo it 1 Dis nigger ain't no fool. Some folks dey would 'a' beat him } Ntfw, dat would only heat him 1 know jes' how to treat him, You urns' reason wid a mule. He minds me like a nigger. If he was only bigger He'd fotch a mighty figger, He would, I tell you I Yes, sah ! See how he keeps a clickin'I He's as gentle as a chicken, An' nebber t'inks o' kickin' Whoa, dar! Nebuchadnezzah I Is dis heah me, or not me ? Or is de debbil got me ! Was dat a cannon shot me? Hab I laid heah mor'n a week? Dat mule do kick amazin' ! De beast was sp'iled in raisin' But now I 'spect he's grazin' On de oder side de creek. IKWTN RUSSELL. AN UNFRIENDLY QUESTION. " Here's yer nice roast chick'n," cried an aged colored man, as the cars stopped at a Virginia railway station. " Here's yer roast chick'n, 'n taters, all nice and hot,*'' holding his plate aloft and walking the platform. " Where did you get that chicken, Uncle?" asked a passenger. Uncle looks at the intruder sharply, and then turns away, crying, " Here's yer nice roast chick'n, gentl'm'n, all hot ; needn't go in de house for dat.'' " Where did you get that chicken," repeats the inqui- sitive passenger. " Look-a-yer," says Uncle, speaking privately, " is you from theNorf?" "Yes." " Is you a Mend of the cullud man ?' " I hope I am." " Den don't you nebber ask me whar I got dat chick'n. Here's yer nice roast chick'n, all hot." New York Tribune. AN EXPERIENCED SHOPPER. An old fellow who was noted through the town for his stuttering as well as for his shrewdness in making a bargain, stopped at a grocery and inquired : How m-m-many t-t-t-turkeys have youg-g-got?" :< Eight,sir," replied the grocer. "T-t-t-tough or t-t-tender? " Some are tender and some tough," was the reply. "I k-keep b-b-b-boarders," said the new customer. P-pick out the four t-t-toughest t-t-turkeys, if you p-p-please." The delighted grocer very willingly complied with the unusual request, and said in his politest tones: " These are the tough ones, sir." Upon which the merchant coolly put his hand on the remaining four, and ex- claimed : "I'll t-t-take th-th-th-these 1" STIK and hang, yung man, dont forgit that it iz the last six inches that wins the race. When the dog meets yu with a wagging tale at the threshold, yu may be sure ov a kindly welkum at the fireside within. It iz the way a thing iz sed or done that givs it importance. I hav met people who couldn't say "Good-morning 1 ' with- out biteing off both ends ov the sentence, JOSH BILMNOS. THE TURF. 289 THE TURF. MB. JORROCKS AT NEWMARKET. [Fifty years ago, 1835.] Among the collections of books to be found in the houses of the nobility and gentry of England, none are so popular and frequent as the series of sporting novels written by Robert Smith Surtees, an English bar rister at law, who wrote about 50 years ago, (1832) and subsequently, illustrated by John Leech. John Joirocks, a sporting grocer, is one of the princi pal characters in several of the novels, and in " Handley Cross " where he partially retires from active business and takes the mastership of The Handley Cross Fox Hounds, he " comes out " strongest. One of his first " trials " with this (now) celebrated pack, will form the extract from the novel of " Handley Cross," but in order to give a better idea of who Mr. Jorrocks is we introduce him on a visit to New Market along with his old friend's son, Charley 'Stubbs, who subsequently falls in love with Jorrocks' niece and heiress, Belinda. Some good judges class Surtees, M the equal of Thackeray and Dickens. A "muffin and The Post, sir," said George to Stubbs the Yorkshiremau, on one of the fine fresh mornings, that gently usher in the returning spring, and draw from the town-pent Cits, sighs for the verdure of the fields, as he placed the above-mentioned articles on his usual breakfast table in the coffee-room of the Piazza Hotel, Govent Garden, London. With the calm deliberation of a man whose whole day is unoccupied, the York- shireman sweetened his tea, drew the muffin and a select dish of prawns to his elbow, and turning sideways to the table, crossed his legs and prepared to con the contents of the paper. The first page as usual was full of advertisements. Sales by auction Favor of your vote and in- terest If the next of kin Reform your tailor's bills Law Articled clerk An absolute reversion Pony phaeton Arti- ficial teeth Messrs. Tattersall Brace of pointers Dog lost Boy found Great sacrifice No advance in coffee Matri- mony A single gentleman Board and lodging in an airy situation To omnibus proprietors Steam to Leith and Hull Stationery Desirable investment for a mall capital The fire reviver or lighter. Then turning it over, his eye ranged over a whole meadow of type, consisting of the previous night's debate, followed VOL. II. W. H. on by City News, Police Reports, Fashion- able arrivals and departures, Dinners given, Sporting Intelligence, Newmarket Craven meeting. "That's more in my way," said the Yorkshireman to himself as he laid down the paper and took a sip of his tea. " I've a great mind to go, for I may just as well be at Newmarket as here, having nothing particular to do in either place. I came to stay a hundred pounds in London it 's true, but if I stay ten of it at Newmarket, it 'ill be all the same, and I can go home from there just as well as from here ; " so saying he took another turn at the tea. The race list was a tempt- ing one, Riddlesworth, Craven stakes, Column stakes, Oatlands, Port, Claret, Sherry, Madeira, and all other sorts. A good week's racing in fact, for the saintly sinners who frequent the Heath had not then discovered any greater impropriety in travelling on a* Sunday, than in cheating each other on the Monday. The tea was S)od, so were the prawns and eggs, and eorge brought a second muffin, at the very moment that the Yorkshireman had finished the last piece of the first, so that by the time he had done his breakfast and drawn on his boots, which were dryer and pleasanter than the recent damp weather had allowed of their being, he felt com- pletely at peace with himself and all the world, and putting on his hat, sallied forth with the self-satisfied air of 1 a man who had ate a good breakfast, and yet not too much. Newmarket was still uppermost in his mind ; and as he sauntered along in the direction of the Strand, it occurred to him that perhaps Mr. Jorrocks might have no objection to accompany him. On entering that great thoroughfare of humanity, he .urned to the East, and having examined ;he contents of all the caricature shops n the line, and paid three-pence for a .ook at the York Herald, in the Chapter Coffee House, St. Paul's Church Yard, about noon he reached the corner of St. Botolph Lane. Before Jorrocks & Co.'s warehouse, great bustle and symptoms of brisk trade were visible. With true city )ride, the name on the door-post was in small dirty-white letters, sufficiently ob- icure to render it apparent that Mr. Jor- rocks considered his house required no sign ; while, as a sort of contradiction, the overed errand-cart before it, bore " JOR- ROCKS & Co. 'a WHOLESALE TEA WARB- 19 290 THE TUEF. HOUSE," in great gilt letters on each side of the cover, so large that " he who runs might read," even though the errand- cart were running too. Into this cart, which was drawn hy the celebrated rat-tail hunter, they were pitching divers packages for town delivery, and a couple of light porters nearly upset the Yorkshireman, as they bustled out with their loads. The warehouse itself gave evident proof of great antiquity. It was not one of your fine, light, lofty, ma- hogany countered, banker-like establish- ments of modern times, where the stock in trade often consists of books and empty canisters, but a large, roomy, gloomy, dirty, dingy sort of a cellar above ground, full of hogsheads, casks, flasks, sugar loaves, jars, bags, bottles and boxes. The floor was half an inch thick at least, with dirt, and was sprinkled with rice, currants, raisins, &c., as though they had been scattered for the purpose of growing. A small corner seemed to have been cut off, like the fold of a Leicestershire graz- ing ground, and made into an office, in the centre of which was a square or two of glass that commanded a view of the whole warehouse. " Is Mr. Jorrocks in?" inquired the Yorkshireman of a porter, who was busy digging currants with a wooden spade. " Yes, sir, you '11 find him in the counting-house," was the answer ; but on looking in, though his hat and gloves were there, no Jorrocks was visible. At the further end of the ware- house a man in his shirt sleeves, with a white apron round his waist and a brown paper cap on his head, was seen under a very melancholy-looking skylight, holding his head over something, as if his nose were bleeding. The Yorkshireman groped his way up to him, and, asking if Mr. Jorrocks was in, found he was addressing the grocer himself. He had been leaning over a large tray full of little white cups with teapots to match trying the strength, flavor, and virtue of a large purchase of tea, and the beverage was all smoking before him. "My vig," ex- claimed he, holding out his hand, " who'd have thought of seeing you in the city, this is something unkimmon ! However, you 're wery welcome in St. Botolph Lane, and as this is your first visit, why I '11 make you a present of some tea wot do you drink ? black, or green, or perhaps both four pounds of one and two of tother. Here Joe ! " summoning his fore- man, " put up four pounds of that last lot of black that came in, and two pounds of superior green, and this gentleman will tell you where to leave it. A ad when do you think of starting?" again addressing the Yorkshireman " egad this is fine weather for the country have half a mind to have a jaunt myself makes one quite young feel as if I'd laid full fifty years aside, and were again a boy when did you say you start ? " " Why I don't know exactly," replied the Yorkshireman, " the weather's so fine that I'm half tempted to go round by Newmarket." " Newmarket I '' ex- claimed Jorrocks, throwing his arm in the air, while his paper cap fell from his head with the jerk "by Newmarket/ why, what in the name of all that 's impure, have you to do at Newmarket ? " " Why nothing in particular ; only when there's neither hunting nor shooting going on, what is a man to do with him- self? I'm sure you'd despise me if I were to go fishing. 1 ' "True," observed Mr. Jorrocks somewhat subdued, and jingling the silver in his breeches-pocket. " Fox 'unting is indeed the prince of sports. The image of war without its guilt and only half its danger. I confess I'm a martyr to it a perfect wictim no one knows wot I suffer from my ardor If ever I'm visited with the last infirmity of noble minds, it will be caused by my un- governable passion for the chase. The sight of a saddle makes me sweat. An 'ound makes me perfectly wild. A red coat throws me into a scarlet fever. Never throughout life have I had a good night's rest before an 'unting morning. But werry little racing does for me ; Sadler's Wells is well enough of a fine summer evening especially when they plump the clown overhead in the New River cut, and the ponies don't misbehave in the Circus, but oh ! Newmarket's a dreadful place, the werry name's a sickener. I used to hear a vast about it from poor Will Softly of Friday Street. It was the ruin of him and wotn, fine business his father left him, both wholesale and retail, in the tripe and cow-heel line all went in two years, and he had nothing to show at the end of that time fbr upwards of twenty thousand golden sovereigns, but a hundred weight of children's lamb's-wool socks, and warrants for thirteen hogsheads of damaged sherry in the docks. No, THE TURF. 291 take my advice, and have nothing to say to them stay where you are, or, if you're short of swag, come to Great Coram Street, where you shall have a bed, wear-and- tear for your teeth, and all that sort of thing found you, and, if Saturday's a fine day, I'll treat you with a jaunt to Mar- gate." " You are a regular old trump," said the Yorkshireman, after listening attentively until Mr. Jorrocks had exhausted himself, "but you see you've never been at New- market, and the people have been hoax- ing you about it. I can assure you from personal experience that the people there are quite as honest as those you meet every day on 'Change, besides which, there is nothing more invigorating to the human frame nothing more cheering to the spirits than the sight and air of New- market Heath on a fine fresh spring morning like the present. The wind seems to go by you at a racing pace, and the blood canters up and down the veins with the finest and freest action imaginable. A stranger to the race-course would feel, and almost instinctively know, what turf he was treading, and the purpose for which that turf was intended. ' There's a magic in the web of it.' "' " Oh I know's you are a most persuasive cock," observed Mr. Jorrocks interrupting the Yorkshireman, " and would convince the devil himself that black is white, but you'll never make me believe the New- market folks are honest, and as to the fine hair (air) you talk of, there's quite as good to get on the Hampstead Heath, and if it doesn't make the blood canter up and down your weins, you can always amuse yourself by watching the donkeys canter- ing up and down with the sweet little children haw haw haw ! But tell me what is there at Newmarket that should take a man there ?" " What is there ?" rejoined the Yorkshireman, " why there's everything that makes life desirable and constitutes happiness, in this world, except hunting. First there is the beautiful, neat, clean towns with groups of booted professors, ready for the rapidest march of intellect; then there are the strings of clothed horses the finest in the world passing indolently at intervals to their exercise, the flower of the English aris- tocracy residing in the place. You leave the town and stroll to the wide open heath, where all is brightness and space ; the white rails stand forth against the clear blue sky the brushing gallop ever and anon startles the ear and eye ; crowds of stable urchins, full of silent importance, stud the heath ; you feel elated and long to bound over the well groomed turf and to try the speed of the careering wind. All things at Newmarket train the mind to racing. Life seems on the start, and dull indeed were he who could rein in his feelings when such inspiriting objects meet together to madden them !" ' Bravo ["exclaimed Jorrocks, throwing his paper cap in the air as the Yorkshire- man concluded " Bravo ! werry good indeed ! You speak like ten Lord Mayors never heard nothing better. Dash my vig, if I won't go. By Jove, you've done it. Tell me one thing is there a good place to feed at?' 1 " Capital !" replied the Yorkshireman, " beef, mutton, cheese, ham, all the deli- cacies of the season, as the sailor said ;" and thereupon the Yorkshireman and Jorrocks shook hands upon the bargain. Sunday night arrived, and with it ar- rived, at the Belle Sauvage, in Ludgate hill, Mr. Jorrocks's boy " Binjimin," with Mr. Jorrocks's carpet bag; and shortly after Mr. Jorrocks, on his chestnut hunter, and the Yorkshireman, in a hack cab, entered the yard. Having consigned his horse to Binjimin, after giving him a very instructive lesson relative to the manner in which he would chastise him if he heard of his trotting or playing any tricks with the horse on his way home, Mr. Jorrocks proceeded to pay the remainder of his fare in the coach office. The mail was full inside and out, indeed the book-keeper assured him he could have filled a dozen more, so anxious were all London to see the Riddlesworth run. " Inside," said he, " are you and your friend, and if it wern't that .the night air might give you cold, Mr. Jorrocks,'' (for all the book-keepers in London know him) " I should have liked to have got you out sides, and I tried to make an exchange with two black- legs, but they would hear of nothing less than two guineas a head, which wouldn't do, you know. Here comes another of your passengers a great foreign noble- man they say Baron something though he looks as much like a foreign pickpocket as anything else." 292 THE TURF. * Vich be de voiture ?' inquired a tall, gaunt-looking foreigner, with immense moustache, a high conical hat, with a bright buckle, long loose bluiih-blackish frock coat, very short white waistcoat, baggy brownish striped trousers, and long footed Wellington boots, with a sort of Chinese turn up at the toe. " Vich be de Newmarket voiture?" said he, repeating the query, as he entered the office and de- posited a silk umbrella, a camlet cloak, and a Swiss knapsack on the counter. The porter, without any attempt at an answer, took his goods and walked off to the mail, followed closely by the Baron, and after depositing the cloak inside, so that the Baron might ride with his " face to the horses," as the saying is, he turned the knapsack into the hind boot, and swung himself into the office till it was time to ask for something for his exertions. Meanwhile the Baron made a tour of the yard, taking a lesson in English from the lettering on the various coaches, when, on the hind boot of one, he deciphered the word Cheapside-^-" Ah, Cheapside !" said he, pulling out his dictionary, and turning U> the letter C. " Chaste, chat, chaw, theap, dat be it. Cheap, to be had at a \ow price small value. Ah 1 I hev (have) it," said he, stamping and knitting his brows, mcrt e-e-e-enom de Dieu," and the first word being drawn out to its nasal longitude, three strides brought him and the conclusion of the oath into the office together. He then opened out upon the book-keeper, in a tremendous volley of French, English, and Hanoverian oaths, for he was a cross between the first and last named countries, the purport of which was " dad he had paid de best price, and he be dem if he vod ride on de Cheapside of the coach." In vain the clerks and bookkeepers tried to convince him he was wrong in his interpretation. With the full conviction of a foreigner that he was about to be cheated, he had his cloak shifted to the opposite side of the coach, and the knapsack placed on the roof. The fourth inside having cast up, the outside passengers mounted, the insides took their places, three-pences and six- pences were pulled out for the porters, the guard twanged his horn, the coachman turned out his elbow, flourished his whip, caught the point, cried "All right! sit tight 1" and trotted out of the yard. Jorrocks and the Yorkshireman sat op- posite each other, the Baron and old Sam Spring, the betting man, did likewise. Who doesn't know old Sam, with his cu- rious tortoise shell-rimmed spectacles, hia old drab hat turned up with green, care- less neckcloth, flowing robe, and comical cut? He knew Jorrocks though, tell it not in Coram Street, he didn't know his name; but concluding from the disparity of age between him and his companion, that Jorrocks was either a shark or a shark's jackall, and the Yorkshireman a victim, with due professional delicacy, he contented himself with scrutinizing the latter through his specs. The Baron's choler having subsided, he was the first to break the ice of silence. "Foine noight," was the observation, which was thrown out promiscuously to see who would take it up. Now Sam Spring, though he came late, had learned from the porter that there was a Baron in the coach, and being a great admirer of the nobility, for whose use he has a code of signals of his own, consisting of one finger to his hat for a Baron Lord as he calls them, two for a Viscount, three for an Earl, four for a Marquis, and the whole hand for a Duke, he immediately responded with " Yes, my lord," with a fore-finger to his hat. There is something sweet in the word " Lord " which finds its way home to the heart of an Englishman. No sooner did Sam pro- nounce it, than the Baron became trans- formed in Jorrocks's eyes into a very supe- rior sort of person, and forthwith he com- menced ingratiating himself by offering him a share of a large paper of sandwich- es, which the Baron accepted with the greatest condescension, eating what he could and stuffing the remainder into his hat. His lordship was a better hand at eating than speaking, and the united efforts of the party could not extract from him the precise purport of his journey. Sam threw out two or three feasible offers in the way of bets, but they fell still-born to the bottom of the coach, and Jorrocks talked to him about hunting and had the conversation all to himself, the Baron merely replying with a bow and a stare, sometimes diversified with, or " I tank you vare good." The conversation by de- grees resolved itself into a snore, in which they were all indulging, when the raw morning air rushed in among them, as a porter with a Ian thorn opened the door and announced their arrival at New? THE TURF. 293 market. Forthwith they turned into the street, and the outside passengers having descended, they all commenced strad- dling, yawning, and stretching their limbs, while the guard and porters sorted their luggage. The Yorkshireman having an eye to a bed, speedily had Mr. Jorrocks's luggage and his own on the back of a porter on its way to the Rutland Arms, while that worthy citizen followed in a sort of sleepy astonishment at the small- ness of the place, inquiring if they were sure they had not stopped at some village by mistake. Two beds had been ordered for two gentlemen who could not get two seats by the mail, which fell to the lot of those who did, and into these our heroes trundled, having arranged to be called by the early exercising hour. Whether it was from want of his usual night-cap of brandy and water, or the fatigues of travelling, or what else, re- mains unknown, but no sooner was Mr. Jorrocks left alone with his candle, than all at once he was seized with a sudden fit of trepidation, on thinking that he should have been inveigled to such a place as Newmarket, and the tremor in- creasing as he pulled four five pound bank notes out of his watch-pocket, be- sides a vast of silver and his great gold watch, he was resolved, should an attempt be made upon his property, to defend it with his life, and having squeezed the notes into the toe of his boots, and hid the silver in the wash-hand stand, he very deliberately put his watch and the poker under the pillow, and set the heavy chest of drawers with two stout chairs and a table against the door, after all whieh exertions he got into bed and very soon fell sound asleep. Most of the inmates of the house were up with the lark to the early exercise, and the Yorkshireman was as early as any of them. Having found Mr. Jor- rocks's door he commenced a loud battery against it without awakening the grocer ; he then tried to open it, but only suc- ceeded in getting it an inch or two from the post, and after several holloas of "Jorrocks my man! Mr. Jorrocks! Jor- rocks, old boy! holloa Jorrocks !" he suc- ceeded in extracting the word "Wot?" from the worthy gentleman as he rolled over in his bed. "Jorrocks!" repeated the Yorkshireman, "it's time to be up." ** Wot ? " again was the answer. " Time to get up. The morning's breaking." "Let it break," replied he, adding in a mutter, as he turned over again, " it owei me nothing." Entreaties being useless, and a large party being on the point of setting off, the Yorkshireman joined them, and spent a couple of hours on the dew-bespangled heath, during which time they not only criticised the figure and action of every horse that was out, but got up tremendous appetites for breakfast. In the meantime Mr. Jorrocks had risen, and having at- tired himself with his usual care, in a smart blue coat with metal buttons, buff waistcoat, blue stocking-netted tights, and Hessian boots, he turned into the main street of Newmarket, where he was lost in astonishment at the insignificance of the place. But wiser men than Mr. Jor- rocks have been similarly disappointed, for it enters into the philosophy of few ta conceive the fame and grandeur of New- market compressed into the limits of the petty, outlandish, Icelandish place that bears the name. " Dash my vig,'' said Mr. Jorrocks, as he brought himself to bear upon Rogers's shop window, "this is the werry meanest town I ever did see. Pray, sir," addressing himself to a groom- ish-looking man in a brown cut-away coat, drab shorts and continuations, who hud just emerged from the shop with a nice list in his hand, " Pray, sir, be this your principal street?" The man eyed him with a mixed look of incredulity and contempt. At length putting his thumbs into the arm-holes of his waist- coat, he replied, " I bet a crown you know as well as I do." "Done," said Mr. Jorrocks, holding out his hand. " No I won't do that," replied the man, " but I'll tell you what I'll do with you I'll lay you two to one, in fives or fifties if you like, that you knew before you axed, and that Thunderbolt don't win the Eiddlesworth." "Really," said Mr. Jorrocks, " I'm not a betting man." " Then wot the 'ell (hell) business have you at Newmarket?" was all the answer he got. Disgusted with such inhospitable impertinence, Mr. Jorrocks turned on his heel and walked away. Before the White Hart Inn was a smartish pony phaeton, in charge of a stunted stable lad. " I say young chap," inquired Jorrocks, " whose is that?" "How did you know that I was a young chap ? " inquired the abor- 294 THE TURF. tion, turning round. "Guessed it," re- plied Jorrocks, chuckling at his own wit. Then guess whose o'it." " Pray, are your clocks here by London time ? " he asked of a respectable elderly- looking man whom he saw turn out of the entry leading to the Kingston rooms, and take the usual survey first up the town and then down it, and afterwards compose his hands in his breeches pock- ets, there to stand to see the "world." 1 " Come now, old 'un none o' your tricks here you've got a match on against time, I suppose,'' was all the answer he could get after the man (old R n the ex- flagellator) had surveyed him from head to foot. We need hardly say after all these re- buffs that when Mr. Jorrocks met the Yorkshireman, he was not in the best possible humor; indeed, to say nothing of the extreme sharpness and suspicion of the people, we know of no place where a man, not fond of racing, is so com- pletely out of his element as at Newmar- ket, for with the exception of a little " elbow shaking " in the evening, there is literally and truly nothing else to do. It is "Heath," "Ditch in," "Abingdon mile." "T. Y. C. Stakes," "Sweepstakes," "Handicaps," "Bet," "Lay," "Take," "Odds," "Evens," morning, noon, and night. Mr. Jorrocks made bitter complaints during the breakfast, and some invidious comparisons between racing men and ibx-hunters, which, however, became softer towards the close, as he got deeper in the delicacy of a fine Cambridge brawn. Nature being at length appeased, he again thought of turning out, to have a look, as he said, at the shows on the course, but the appearance of his friend the Baron opposite the window, put it out of his head, and he sallied forth to join him. The Baron was evidently in- cog: for he had on the same short dirty- white waistcoat, Chinese boots, conical hat, &c., that he travelled down in, and being a stranger in the land, of course he was uncommonly glad to pick up Jor- rocks, so after he had hugged him a little, called him a "bon garcon," and a few other endearing terms, he run his great long arm through his, and walked him 'Newmarket or London it's all the same. "The World " is but composed of one's_own acquaintance. down street, the whole peregrinations ol Newmarket being comprised in the words "up street" and "down." He then com- municated in most unrepresentable lan- guage, that he was on his way to buy ''an 'oss," and Jorrocks informing him that he was a perfect connoisseur in the article, the Baron again assured him of his distinguished consideration. They were met by Joe Rogers, the trainer, with a ring key in his hand, who led the way to the stable, and having unlocked a box in which was a fine slapping four-year old, according to etiquette he put his hat in a corner, took a switch in one hand, laid hold of the horse's head with the other, while the lad in attendance stripped off its clothes. The Baron then turned up his wrists, and making a curious noise in his throat, proceeded to pass his hand down each leg, and along its back, after which he gave it a thump in the belly and squeezed its throat, when, being as wise as he was at starting, he stuck his thumb in his side, and took a mental survey of the whole. "Ah," said he at length " foin oss, foin oss ; vot ears he has?" "Oh," said Rogers, "they show breeding." " Non, non, I say vot ears he has? " "Well, but he carries them well," was the answer. " Non, non," stamping, "I say vot ears (years) he has?" Oh, hang it, I twig four years old." Then the Baron took another long look at him. At length he resumed : " I vill my wet." "What's that? " inquired Rogers of Jor- rocks. "His wet why a drink to be sure," and thereupon Kogers went to th* pump and brought a glass of pure water, which the Baron refused with becoming indignation. "Non, non," said he, stamp- ing, "/ vill my vet" Rogers looked at Jorrocks, and Jorrocks looked at Rogers, but neither Rogers nor Jorrocks under- stood him. "I vill my vet," repeated the Baron with vehemence. " He must want some brandy in it," observed Mr. Jor- rocks, judging of the Baron by himself, and thereupon the lad was sent for three- penn'orth. When it arrived, the Baron dashed it out of his hand with a pro- longed saere-e-e-e / adding, " I vill von wet-tin-nin-na-ary surgeon." The boy was despatched for one, and on his arri- val the veterinary surgeon went through the process that the Baron had attempted, and not being a man of many words, he just gave the Baron a nod at the end. THE TURF. 295 "How moch?" inquired the Baron of Rogers. " Five hundred," was the an- swer. " Vot, five hundred livre? " " Oh d n it, you may take him or leave him just as you like, but you won't get him for less." The "vet" explained that the Baron wished to know whether it was five hundred francs (French ten-pences), or five hundred guineas English money, and being informed that it was the latter, he gave his conical hat a thrust on hia brow, and bolted out of the box. But race-hour approaches, and the peo- ple begin to assemble in groups before the " rooms," while tax-carts, pony-gigs, post-chaises, the usual aristocratical ac- companiments of Newmarket, come dribbling at intervals into the town. Here is old Sam Spring in a spring-cart, driven by a ploughboy in fustian, there the Earl of on a ten-pound pony, with the girths elegantly parted to prevent the saddle slipping over its head, while Miss , his jockey's daughter, dashes by him in a phaeton with a powdered footman, and the postillion in scarlet and leathers, with a badge on his arm. Old Crockey puts on his great coat ; Jem Bland draws the yellow phaeton and greys to the gateway of the White Hart to take up his friend Crutch Robinson ; Zac, Jack, and another, have just driven in in a fly. In short it's a brilliant meet- ing. 1 Besides four coronetted carriages with post-horses, there are three phaetons- and-pair ; a thing that would have been a phaeton if they'd have let it; General Grosvenor's dog-carriage, that is to say, his carriage with a dog upon it ; Lady Chesterfield and the Hon. Mrs. Anson in a pony-phaeton with an out-rider (Miss will have one next meeting instead of the powdered footman) ; Tattersall in. his double carriage, driving without bear- ing reins; Old Theobald in leather breeches and a buggy ; five Bury butchers in a tax-cart; Young Dutch Sam on a pony; "Short-odds Richards" on a long- backed crocodile-looking rosinante ; and no end of pedestrians. But where is Mr. Jorrocks all this time ? Why, eating brawn in the Rutland Arms with his friend the Baron, perfectly unconscious that all these passers-by were 1 The poverty, both in numbers and appearance, of a Kewmarket turn out, must have surprised many a beholder. not the daily visibles of the place. " Dash my vig," said he, as he bolted another half of the round, " I see no symptoms of a stir. Come, my lord, do me the honor to take another glass of sherry." Hia lordship was nothing loath, so by mutual entreaties they finished the bottle, besides a considerable quantity of porter. A fine, fat, chestnut, long-tailed, Suffolk-punch cart-mare fresh from the plough having been considerately pro- vided by the Yorkshireman for Mr. Jor- rocks, with a cob for himself, they pro- ceeded to mount in the yard, when Mr. Jorrocks was concerned to find that the Baron had nothing to carry him. His lordship, too, seemed disconcerted, but it was only momentary ; for walking up to the punch mare, and resting his elbow on her hind quarter to try if she kicked, he very coolly vaulted up behind Mr. Jor- rocks. Now Jorrocks, though proud of the patronage of a lord, did not exactly comprehend whether he was in earnest or not, but the Baron soon let him know ; for thrusting his conical hat on his brow, he put his arm round Jorrocks's waist, and gave the old mare a touch in the flank with the Chinese boot, crying out " Along me brave garcon, along ma cher," and the owner of the mare living at Kent- ford, she went off at a brisk trot in that direction, while the Yorkshireman slipped down the town unperceived. The sherry had done its business on them both ; the Baron, and who, perhaps, was the most " cut " of the two, chaunted the Marseil- laise hymn of liberty with as much free- dom as though he was sitting in the sad- dle. Thus they proceeded laughing and singing until the Bury pay-gate arrested their progress, when it occurred to the steersman to ask if they were going right. " Be this the vay to Newmarket races ? " inquired Jorrocks of the pike-keeper. The man dived into the small pocket of his white apron for a ticket, and very coolly replied, " SMI out, old'un." " How much ? " said Jorrocks. " Tuppence," which having got, he said " now then you may turn, for the heath be over yonder," pointing back, " at least it was there this morning, I know." After a volley of abuse for his impudence, Mr. Jorrocks, with some difficulty, got the old mare pulled round, for she had a deuced hard mouth of her own, and only a plain snaffle in it; at last, however, with the 296 THE TURF. aid of a boy to beat her with a furze bush, they got her set a-going again, and retrac- ing their steps, they trotted "down street," rose the hill, and entered the Bpacious wide-extending flat of New- market heath. The races were going for- ward on one of the distant courses, and a slight, insignificant black streak, swelling into a sort of oblong (for all the world like an overgrown tadpole) was all that denoted the spot, or interrupted the ver- dant aspect of the quiet extensive plain. Jorrocks was horrified, having through life pictured Epsom as a mere drop in the ocean compared with the countless multi- tude of Newmarket, while the Baron, who was wholly indifferent to the matter, nearly had old Jorrocks pitched over the mare's head by applying the furze bush (which he had got from the boy) to her tail while Mr. Jorrocks was sitting loose- ly, contemplating the barrenness of the prospect. The sherry was still alive, and being all for fun, he shuffled back into the saddle as soon as the old mare gave over kicking ; and giving a loud tally-ho, with some minor "hunting noises," which were responded to by the Baron in notes not capable of being set to music, and aided by an equally indescribable accom- paniment from the old mare at every application of the bush, she went off at score over the springy turf, and bore them triumphantly to the betting post just as the ring was in course of formation, a fact which she announced by a loud neigh on viewing her companion of the plough, as well as by upsetting some half-dozen black-legs as she rushed through the crowd to greet her. Great was the hub- bub, shouting, swearing, and laughing, for though the Newmarketites are familiar with most conveyances, from a pair of horses down to a pair of shoes, it had not then fallen to their lot to see two men ride into the ring on the same horse, cer- tainly not with such a hat between them as the Baron's. The gravest and weightiest matters will not long distract the attention of a black- leg, and the laughter having subsided without Jorrocks or the Baron being in the slightest degree disconcerted, the ring was again formed ; horses' heads again turn towards the post, while carriages, gigs, carts, etc., form an outer circle. A solemn silence ensues. The legs are scanning the list. At length one gives tongue. " What starts ? Does Lord Eldon start?" "No, he don't," replies the owner. " Does Trick, by Catton? " " Yes, and Conolly rides but mind, three pounds over." " Does John Bull? " " No, John's struck out." " Polly Hopkins does, so does Talleyrand ; also O, Fy ! out of Penitence. Beagle and Paradox also and perhaps Pickpocket." Another pause, and the pencils are pulled from the betting books. The legs and lords look at each other, but no one likes to lead off. At length a voice is heard offering to take nine to one he names the winner. "It's short odds, doing it cautiously." "I'll take eight then," he adds " sivin ! " but no one bites. " What will anyone lay about Trick, by Catton," inquires Jem Bland. " I'll lay three to two again him." " I'll take two to one two ponies to one, and give you a suv for laying it." " Carn't," is the answer. " I'll do it, Jem," cries a voice. " No you won't," from Bland, not liking his customer. Now they are all at it, and what a hubbub there is ! " I'll back the field I'll lay- I'll take I'll bet ponies fifties hundreds five hun- dred or two.' 1 " What do you want my lord? " -" Three to one against Trick, by Catton." "Carn't afford it the odda really arn't that in the ring." " Take two two hundred to one.'' " No." " Crock- ford, you'll do it for me ? " " Yes, my lord. Twice over if you like. Done, done." "Do it again?" " No, thank you." "Trick by Catton, don't start I " cries a voice. " Impossible/ " exclaims his back- ers. " Quite true, I'm just from the weighing-house and told me so him- self," " Shame I Shame ! Shame ! " roar the legs who have backed him, (it being a play or pay race) and " honour rascals rogue* thieves robbery swindle turf-ruin- ed '' fly from rogue to rogue, but they are all speakers with never a speaker to cry order. Meanwhile the lads have gal- loped by on their hacks with the horses' clothes to the rubbing house, and the horses have actually started and are now visible in the distance sweeping over the open heath, apparently without guide or beacon. The majority of the ring rush to the white judge's-box, and have just time to range themselves along the rude stakes and ropes that guard the run-in, and the THE TURF. 297 course-keeper in a shooting-jacket on a rough pony to crack his whip, and cry to half a dozen stable lads to " clear the course,' 1 before the horses come flying to- wards home. Now all is tremor ; hope and fear vacillating in each breast. Si- lence stands breathless with expectation all eyes are ri vetted the horses come with- in descrying distance " beautiful ! " three close together, two behind. " Clear the course ! clear the course ! pray clear the course? " " Polly Hopkins ! Polly Hop- kins ! " roar a hundred voices as they near ; " O, Fy ! O, Fy ! " respond an equal num- ber. " The horse ! the horse ! " bellow a hundred more, as though their yells would aid his speed, as Polly Hopkins, O, Fy ! and Talleyrand rush neck-and- neck along the cords and pass the judge's box. A cry of " dead heat ! " is heard. The by-standers see as suits their books, and immediately rush to the judge's box, betting, bellowing, roaring, and yelling the whole way. " What's won? what's won ? what's won ? " is vociferated from a hundred voices. " Polly Hopkins ! Polly Hopkins ! Polly Hopkins ! '' replies Mr. Clark with judicial dignity. " By how much ? By b/>w much ? " " Half a head half a head," replies the same function- ary. " What's second? " " O, Fy ! " and so amid the song of " Pretty, pretty Polly Hopkins," from the winners, and curses and execrations long, loud, and deep, from the losers, the scene closes. The admiring winners follow Polly to the rubbing-house, while the losing horses are left in the care of their trainers and stable-boys, who console themselves with hopes of " better luck next time." After a storm comes a calm, and the next proceeding is the wheeling of the judge's box, and the removal of the old stakes and ropes to another course on a different part of the heath, which is ac- complished by a few ragged rascals, as rude and uncouth as the furniture they bear. In less than half an hour the same group of anxious care-worn countenances are again turned upon each other at the betting-post, as though they had never separated. But see, the noble owner of Trick, by Catton, is in the crowd, and Jem B * * eyeing him like a hawk. " I say Waggey," cries he, (singling out a friend stationed by his lordship) had you ought on Trick by Catton I " " No, Jem," roars Wagstaff, shaking his head, " I knew my man loo well." " Why now, Waggey, do you know I wouldn't have done such a thing for the world ! no, not even to have been made a Mar kiss / " A hoarse laugh follows this denunciation, at which the newly created marquis bites his livid lips. The Baron, who appears to have no taste for walking, still sticks to the Punch mare, which Mr. Jorrocks steers to the newly formed ring, aided by the Baron and the furze bush. Here they come upon Sam Spring, whose boy has just brought his spring-cart to bear upon the ring formed by the horsemen, and thinking it a pity a nobleman of any country should be reduced to the necessity of riding double, very politely offers to take one into his carriage. Jorrocks accepts the offer, and forthwith proceeds to make him- self quite at home in it. The chorus again commences, and Jorrocks interrogates Sam as to the names of the brawlers. " Who be that ? " said he, " offering to bet a thou- sand to a hundred." Spring, after eyeing him through his spectacles, with a grin and a look of suspicion, replies, " Come now come let's have no nonsense you know as well as I." "Really," replies Mr. Jorrocks most earnestly, " / don't." " Why, where have you lived all your life ? " " First part of it with my grand- mother at Lisson Grove, afterwards at Camberwell, but now I resides in Great Coram Street, Russell Square a werry fashionable neighbourhood. 1 ' "Oh, I see," replies Sam, " you are one of the reg'lar city coves then now what brings you here ? " " Just to say that I have been at Newmarket, for I'm blowed if ever you catch me here again.'' " That's a pity," re- plied Sam, " for you look like a promising man a handsome bodied chap in the face don't you sport any ? " " O a vast ! 'unt regularly .I'm a member of the Surrey 'unt capital one it is too best in Eng- land by far." " What do you hunt?" inquired Sam. " Foxes to be sure." " And are they good eating? " " Come," replied Jorrocks, " you know as well as I do, we don't eat' ein." The dialogue was interrupted by some one calling to Sam to know what he was backing. " The Bedlamite colt, my lord," with a fore-finger to his hat. "Who's that?" inquired Jorrocks. "That's my lord L , a baron-lord and a very nice one best baron-lord I know always bets THE TURF. with me that's another baron-lord next him, and the man next him is a baron- knight, a stage below a baron-lord some- thing between a nobleman and a gentle- man." " And who be that stout, good- looking man in a blue coat and velvet collar next him, just rubbing his chin with the race card - he'll be a lord too I suppose?" "No, that's Mr. Gully, as honest a man as ever came here, that's Crockford, before him. The man on the right is Mr. C , who they call the 'cracksman,' because formerly he was a professional horsebreaker, but he has given up that trade, and turned gentle- man, bets, and keeps a gaming table. This little ugly black-faced chap, that looks for all the world like a bilious Scotch terrier, has lately come among us. He was a tramping pedlar sold worsted stockings attended country courses, and occasionally bet a pair. Now he bets thousands of pounds, and keeps race- horses. The chaps about him all covered with chains and rings and brooches, were in the duffing line sold brimston'd spar- rows for canary birds, Norwich shawls for real Cachemere, and dried cabbage-leaves for cigars. Now each has a first-rate house, horses and carriages, and a play- actress among them. Yon chap with the extravagantly big mouth, is a cabinet- maker at Cambridge. He'll bet you a thousand pounds as soon as look at you. " The chap on the right of the post with the red tye, is the son of an ostler. He commenced betting thousands with a far- thing capital. The man next him, all teeth and hair, like a rat-catcher's dog, is an Honourable by birth, but not very hon- ourable in his nature." " But see,' 1 cried Mr. Jorrocks, " Lord is talking to the Cracksman." "To be sure," replies Sam, " that's the beauty of the turf. The lord and the leg are reduced to an equality. Take my word for it, if you have a turn for good society you should come upon the turf. I say my Lord Duke !'' with all five fingers up to his hat, " I'll lay you three to two on the Bedlamite colt." " Done, Mr. Spring," replies his grace, " three ponies to two." ** There ! " cried Mr. Spring, turning to Jorrocks, " didn't I tell you so?" The riot around the post increases. It is near the moment of start- ing, and the legs again become clamorous for what they want. Their vehemence in- creases. Each man is in extremis- " They are off!" cries one. " No, they are not," replies another. " False start," roars a third. "Now they come!" "No, they don't!" " Back again." They are off at last, however, and away they speed over the flat. The horses come within descry- ing distance. It's a beautiful race run at score the whole way, and only two tailed off within the cords. Now they set to- whips and spurs go, legs leap, lords shout, and amid the same scene of confusion, betting, galloping, cursing, swearing and bellowing, the horses rush past the judge's box. But we have run our race, and will not fatigue our readers with repetition. Let us, however, spend the evening, and then the " Day at Newmarket '' will be done. Mr. Spring, with his usual attention to strangers, persuades Mr. Jorrocks to make one of a most agreeable dinner party at the White Hart, on the assurance of spend- ing a delightful evening. Covers are laid for sixteen in the front room down stairs, and about six o'clock that number are ready to sit down. Mr. Badchild the ac- complished keeper of an oyster-room and minor hell, in Pickering Place, is pre- vailed upon to take the chair, supported on his right by Mr. Jorrocbe, and on his left by Mr. Tom Rhodes, of Thames Street, while the stout, jolly, portly Jerry Haw- thorn fills in the fullest sense of the word the vice-chair. Just as the waiters are removing the covers, in stalks the Baron, in his conical hat, and reconnoitres the viands. Sam, all politeness, invites him to join the party. " I tank you," replies the Baron, " but I have my wet in de next room." " But bring your wet with you, 1 ' rejoins Sam, " we'll all have our wet to- gether after dinner," thinking the Baron meant his wine. The usual inn grace " For what we are going to receive, the host expects to be paid," -having been said with great feel- ing and earnestness, they are set to at the victuals, and little conversation passed until the removal of the cloth, when Mr. Badchild calling upon his Vice, observed that as in all probability there were gentlemen of different political and other opinions present, perhaps the best would be to give a comprehensive toast, and so get over any debateable ground, he therefore proposed to drink in a bumper, " The King, the Queen, and all the Koyal Family, the Ministry, particularly tha THE TURF. 299 Master of the Horse, the Army, the Navy, the Church, the State, and after the ex- cellent dinner they had eaten, he would include the name of the landlord of the White Hart," (great applause.) Song from Jerry Hawthorn " The King of the Cannibal Islands." The chairman then called upon the company to fill their glasses to a toast upon which there could be no difference or opinion. " It was a sport which they all enjoyed, one that was delightful to the old and to the young, to the peer and to the peasant, and open to all. Whatever might be the merits of other amusements, he had never yet met any man with the hardihood to deny that racing was at once the noblest and most legitimate," loud cheers, and thumps on the table, that set all the glasses dancing " not only was it the noblest and most legitimate, but it was the most profitable, and where was the man of high and honor- able principle who did not feel when breathing the pure atmosphere of that Heath, a lofty self-satisfaction at the thought, that though he might have left those who were near and dear to him in a less genial atmosphere, still he was not selfishly enjoying himself, without a thought for their welfare ; for racing, while it brought health and vigor to the father, also brought what was dearer to the mind of a parent the means of pro- moting the happiness and prosperity of his family (immense cheers.) With these few observations he should simply propose ' the Turf,' and may we long be above it;" (applause, and on the motion of Mr. Spring, three cheers for Mrs. Badchild and all the little Badchildren were called for and given.) When the noise had sub- sided, Mr. Jprrocks very deliberately got up, amid whispers and inquiries as to who he was. " Gentlemen," said he, with an indignant stare, and a thump on the table, " Gentlemen, I say, in much of what has fallen from our worthv chairman, I go-in- sides, save in what he says about racing I insists that 'unting is the sport of sports," immense laughter, and cries of " wot an old fool ! '' " Gentlemen may laugh, but I say it's a fact, and though I doesn't wish to create no displeasancy whatsomever, yet I should despise myself most confoundedly should consider my- self unworthy of the great and dis- tinguished 'unt to which I have the honor to belong, if I sat quietly down without sticking up for the Chase (laughter) I say it's one of the balances of the Consti- tution ! (laughter) I say it's the sport of kings ! the image of war without its guilt! (hisses and immense laughter.) He would fearlessly propose a bumper toast he would give them " Fox-hunting.' " There was some demur about drinking it, but on the interposition of Sam Spring who assured the company that Jorrocks was one of the right sort, and with an ad- dition proposed by Jerry Hawthorn, which made the toast more comprehensible, they swallowed it, and the chairman followed it up with " The Sod," which was drunk with great applause. Mr. Cox of Blue Hammerton returned thanks. " He con- sidered cock-fighting the finest of all fine amusements. Nothing could equal the rush between two prime grey-hackles that was his color. The chairman had said a vast for racing, and to cut the matter short, he might observe that cock- fighting combined all the advantages of making money, with the additional benefit of not being interfered with by the weather. He begged to return his best thanks for himself and brother sods, and only re- gretted he had not been taught speaking m his youth, or he would certainly have convinced them all, that 'Cocking' was the sport." " Coursing " was the next toast for which Arthur Purvis, the jockey, returned thanks. "He was very fond of the ' long dogs ' and thought, after racing, coursing was the true thing. He was no orator, and so he drank off his wine to the health of the company." " Steeple chas- ing " followed, for which Mr. Coalman of St. Albans returned thanks, assuring the company that it answered his purpose re- markably well ; then the Vice gave the Chair, and the Chair gave the Vice, and by way of a finale, Mr. Badchild proposed the game of Chicken-hazard, observing in a whisper to Mr. Jorrocks that perhaps he would like to subscribe to a joint stock purse 1 for the purpose of going to hell. To which Mr. Jorrocks, with great gravity replied "Sir, I'm d d if I do." 1 It is common for parties to club tbeir money and appoint one of their body to play tbe game. 100 JORROCKS'S HUNT. JORROCKS' HUNT. Mr. Jorrocks, having made his fortune as a grocer, accepts the mastership of the Handley Cross Fox Hounds, partially retires from business, and, on a visit from Charley Stubbs, his young Yorkshire friend, (who is now the accepted lover of Jorrocks's niece, Belinda,) they have a quiet day's hunt, with the following re- sult. " 'Ow are ye, my lad o' wax ?" ex- claimed Mr. Jorrocks, bouncing out in his sky-blue dressing-gown and slippers, as Charley Stubbs appeared at the gar- den gate. " Delighted to see you ! '' continued Mr. Jorrocks, wringing his hand, and hop- ping about on one leg ; " most 'appy in- deed I Bed for yourself, stable for your 'oss ; all snug and comfey, in fact. Bin- jimin ! I say, Binjimin ! " " Coming, sir ! coming !" replied the boy, setting himself into a fustian coat. "Take this 'ere 'oss to the stable, and bid Pigg treat him as one of 'is own warm stall, thick blanket, lots o' straw, and crushed corn without end. Now, come in," said he to Stubbs, "and get some grub ; and let's 'ear all about it." Pretty Belinda took Charles's proffered hand with a blush, and Mrs. Jorrocks re- entered the room in a clean cap and collar just as the trio were settling into seats. What a burst of inquiries followed ! " 'Ow's the dad ?" asked Mr. Jorrocks. " 'Ow did you come ?" inquired Mrs. Jorrocks. " How is your sister ?" half whispered Belinda. " Where have you been since we last saw you ?" was demanded before Stubbs had answered any of the preceding, and a great cry of conversation was got up. In the evening Mr. Jorrocks celebrated the event with a couple of bottles of fine fruity port, and a night-cap of the usual beverage " B. and W.," as he briefly designated his brandy and water. * *#* ### * Our master took a cooling draught a couple of Seidlitz powders the next morning, intending to " lie at earth " as he eaid, and was later than usual in getting down stairs. Stubbs improved his oppor- tunity, and got sixteen kisses of Belinda, according to Ben's reckoning, who was listening outside, ere Mrs. Jorrocks made her appearance either. A voluminous correspondence a week's St. Botolph's- lane letters, and many private ones, some about hounds, some about horses, awaited our master's descent. The first he opened was from his old friend, Dick Bragg : " Dear Mr. J., " London : "Though I fear it may involve a charge of fickleness, I feel it due to my- self to make the following communica- tion : " The fact of my having offered my services to you having transpired, I have been so persecuted with remonstrances from those whose judgment and good opinion I value, and representations of the impolicy of accepting office, other than in similar administrations to those I have heretofore co-operated with, that I really have no alternative but most re- spectfully to request that you will allow me to withdraw my previous communica- tion. It is, I assure you, with great re- luctance that I make the announcement, knowing, as I do, by sad experience, the difficulty there is in obtaining talent even under the most favourable circumstances, let alone in the middle of a season, when everybody worth having is taken up ; but it is one of those casualties that cannot be helped, and, in making this communi- cation, allow me to assure you, sir, that I shall always speak of you with respect, sir yes, sir, I shall always speak or you with respect, sir, and esteem you, sir, as an upright gentleman and a downright fox-hunter. Allow me to subscribe my- self, Yours very faithfully, "RICHARD BKAGG. " To Jorrocks, Esq., " Handley Cross." "Ah I Rich. Bragg, indeed!" grunted Mr. Jorrocks, when he read it, " you must think I've a deal more o' the Michaelmas bird i' me than I 'ave, 'to believe you wrote this afore you got my letter. There. Batsay," said he, as the handsome maid now entered with the hissing urn, " take that," handing it to her, " and make curl- papers on 't, and don't you be so 'eavy on my witey-brown." The next letter he selected was from Mr. Bowker. JORROCKS'S HUNT. 301 "Lincoln's Inn, London. "Dear Sir: On calling to pay the 1 Life ' for your advertisement of 'A hunt- ing man wanted,' he expressed a wish for you to contribute information respecting the sport with your hounds ; and, know- ing I had the honor of your acquain- tance, he wished me to sound you on the subject. He says he gets lots of pot- house accounts of stag, and bag fox- hunting, with harriers, and such like rubbish ; but what he wants is real sport- ing accounts of runs with superior estab- lishments like yours. An editor, you know, can't be everywhere, or he would like to have a horse in every hunt in the kingdom ; but he says if you would have the kindness to furnish off-hand accounts, he would spice them up with learning and Latin. He has ' Moore's Dictionary of Quotations,' and can come the classical quite as strong as the great Mr. Pompon - ius, Esq., whom they reckon the top- sawyer in that line. Some gentlemen, ' The Life ' says, send their accounts to a third party, to be copied and forwarded as from an indifferent person ; but that consumes time without answering a good end, as the utmost secrecy may be relied upon, and ' The Life ' is most particular in combing them into Euglish. In short, gentlemen unaccustomed to public writ- ing may forward their accounts to him with perfect confidence. " You will be sorry to hear the Slen- der is in trouble. He had long been suspected of certain spiritual runnings in the shape of an illicit still, at the back of his horse-slaughtering premises in Co- penhagen Fields, and au exciseman was despatched last Thursday to watch, and, if necessary, take him. Somehow or other the exciseman has never cast up again, and poor Billy has been taken up on suspicion of having sent him to ' that bourne from whence no traveller returns.' I hope he has not, but time will show. " Susan Slummers has cut the Cobourg, and got engaged at Sadlers' Wells, under the name of Clarissa Howard. I said if she was choosing a name, she might as well take a good one : she is to do genteel comedy, and is not to be called upon to paint black or wear tights. Her legs have got rather gummy of late, from too constant strain on the sinews, and the manager wanted to reduce her salary, and Susan kicked in consequence; and this reminds me that I have seen a blister in your stable James's or Jones's, I for- get which that your groom, Benjamin, told me you applied to horses' legs when they are enlarged. Might I take the liberty of asking if you think it would be beneficially applied in this case ? As I presume from a letter I had from Mr. Stubbs the other day that he will be with you by this time, perhaps you will have the kindness to inform him that Mrs. B. will send his "baccy" by the early train to-morrow, along with your Seidlitz powders, so as to make one parcel do. Old Twist's business is sadly fallen off my fees have diminished a third though my twist hasn't. We have only half the number of pupils we had. That, however, makes no difference to me, as I never got anything from them but sauce. I hope Mr. and Mrs. Jorrocks are enjoy- ing the pure air of Handley Cross. We are enjoying a dense yellow fog here so thick and so damp, that the gas-lights, which have been burning all day, are hardly visible ; I tripped over a child at the corner of Chancery Lane, and pitched headforemost into an old chestnut-wo- man's roasting oven. " By the way, I read an advertisement in a north country paper the other day of ' the eatage of the fog in a park to let.' I wish some one would take the eatage of it here; he'd get a good bellyful, I'm sure. Adieu. Excuse haste and a bad pen, as the pig said when he ran away from the butcher ; and believe me to re- main, "Dear Sir, " Yours most respectfully, "WM. BOWKER. "To JOHN JORROCKS, ESQ., "MASTER or FOX-HOUNDS, &c., &c., " HANDLEY CROSS SPA." Then before Mr. Jorrocks got half through his city letters and made his pencil observations thereupon who to do business with, whose respectability to in- quire into, who to dun, who to decline dealing with, the gossiping Handley Cross Paul Pry, with its list of arrivals, fashionable millinery, dental surgery ad- vertisements, &c., having passed the or- deal of the kitchen, made its appearance with the following important announce- ment : 502 JORROCKS'S HUNT. "THE HANDLEY CROSS (MR. JOR- ROCKS'S) Fox HOUNDS " Will meet on Wednesday at the Bound of Beef and Carrots, Apple-door- road, and on Saturday at the Mountain Daisy, near Hockey's Hutch, each day at ten o'clock. " N. B. These hounds will hunt Mon- days and Fridays, with an occasional bye on the Wednesdays in future." " Why, your'e advertising, I see ! " ex- claimed Charley, on reading the above. " I am/' replied Mr. Jorrocks, with a grin, " comin' it strong, ain't I? " " Very,'' replied Stubbs, " three days a week will want a good many horses for that." " O, I sha'n't be much troubled on the Wednesdays," rejoined Mr. Jorrocks; "shall jest make that long or short 'cord- in' as it suits." " But you'll go out I s'pose," observed Stubbs. "In course," replied Jorrocks. "In course only I shall go out at my own hour may be height, may be sivin, may be as soon as we can see. Not many o' these waterin' place birds that'll get hup for an 'unt, only ye see as I wants their money, I must give them value received or summut like it ; but there's nothing like the mornin' for makin' the foxes cry ' Capevi I ' added he, with a grin of de- light." " Nothing," assented Stubbs. " We'll 'ave some rare chiveys ?" ex- claimed Mr. Jorrocks, his eyes glistening as he spoke. "Hope so," replied Stubbs, adding, " let's give them a trot out to-day." " To-day," mused our master " to- day," repeated he, thrusting his hands deep in his pockets, and then taking a dry shave of his chin " couldn't well go out to-day. To-morrow if you like got a lot o' letters to write and things to do not quite right nouther feel as if I'd eat a hat or a pair o' worsted stockins." " To-morrow will be too near your regular day," observed Stubbs. " Ah, true, so it would," assented Mr. Jorrocks, thinking he must attend to ap- pearances at first, at all events. " Better give them a round to-day," continued Stubbs, returning to his point. " Not prepared," mused Jorrocks " not prepared. Pigg hasn't got himself 'fettled oop ' yet, as he calls it." " Oh yes he has," replied Stubbs " saw him trying on his tops as I came down stairs, and his red coat and waistcoat were lying on the kitchen table." "Indeed," replied Mr. Jorrocks, "won- der 'ow he looks in 'em. Only a hugly beggar out on 'em." "He's a varmint looking chap," ob- served Stubbs. " Yes, he is," assented Mr. Jorrocks ; " 'ope he's keen." "How's Ben off that way?" asked Stubbs. " Oh, Bin's a fine bouy," observed Jor- rocks, " and I makes no doubt 'ill train on. Borne wasn't built in a day, Con- stantinople nouther." "Certainly not," assented Stubbs, thinking if Ben made a sportsman he was very much mistaken. After a vigorous attack upon the muf- fins, kidneys, fried ham, marmalade, and other good things adorning Mr. Jor- rocks's breakfast table, our Yorkshire friend again tried to draw the great M. F. H. for a day. " Couldn't we give the 'ounds a trot out by way of exercise, think ye ? " asked he. " Don't know,' 1 grunted Jorrocks from the bottom of his coffee-cup. " Wot good would that do ? " " Make 'em handy," replied Stubbs. " 'Andy enough,'' replied our master, bolting a large piece of muffin, " 'Andy as ladies' maids. Can do everything 'cept pay their own pikes. 1 ' Despite this confident assertion, Stubbs still stuck to him. First he proposed that Pigg and he should take the hounds out together. This Jorrocks wouldn't stand. "Be sure to get into mischief." Then Stubbs thought it would do Jorrocks a vast deal of good to have a bump on one of his great rough horses. Our master couldn't quite gainsay this, though he did look out of the window, observing that he thought it would rain, and he shouldn't like to get wet. " Oh, it 'ill not rain," replied Stubbs " not till night at least," added he confi- dently. " Don't know that," grunted Mr. Jor- rocks ; u Gabey seems to be of a different 'pinion," added he, as the noble old pea- cock emerged from under a sun-bright Portugal laurel, and stretching his neck, and flapping his wings, uttered a wi'd, piercing scream. JORROCKS'S HUNT. 303 " Dash my vig, but that looks like it I " exclaimed Mr. Jorrocka, adding, as he caught up his right foot with a shake of his head, " Gabriel Junks is seldom wrong, and my corns are on his side. 1 ' Still Stubbs persevered, and, by dint of agitation, at length succeeded in getting Jorrocks not only to go out, but to have a draw in Newtimber Forest, Stubbs ob- serving, and Jorrocks assenting that there would be very little more trouble in run- ning the hounds through the cover than in trotting them along the road. And, with some misgivings, Jorrocks let Stubbs go to make the arrangements, while he applied himself vigorously to his letters. A QUIET BYE. Pigg was all eager for the fray, and readily came intoStubbs'ssuggestion, that ! they should go out, and just take their ! chance of finding a fox, and of his going to ground or not as luck and his courage served. " Ar'll gan to'ard Duncan's, and get i his grey for wor Ben,'' said Pigg, " gin ye'll set the lad on the saddle the rest; " adding, ' the Squi-er ar's warned 'ill ride | Arterxerxes." Off the Pigg went to Duncan Nevins, I and returned with a woebegone looking horse in a halter, before Stubbs had made ! any progress in his department. Ben was ; not to be found. Neither at Mrs. Candy, i the tart- woman's, nor at Mrs. Biffin's ap- \ pie-stall, nor at Strap the saddler's, nor at any of the usual haunts, was anything to i be heard of the boy. The fact was, he i had been unable to resist a ride at the back of a return chaise passing along Ju- niper street, and being caught by his ! apron in the spikes, had been carried j nearly to Copse Field before he got him- self disentangled. The oracle Gabriel having continued his monitions, Mr Jorrocks thought to make the absence of the boy an excuse for not going, but now having both Stubbs and Pigg ranged against him, he was soon driven from the attempt. Pigg said " Squi-er Stubbs wad do quite as weal as Ben," and Jorrocks, little loth at heart, perhaps, at length hoisted himself on to Arterxerxes with a swag that would have sent a light-carcassed horse over, letting the now smartly-clad Pigg ride the re- doubtable Xerxes. So with Stubbs in front, Jorrocks with the hounds, and Pigg behind, they set off at a gentle trot, tell- ing the inquirers that they were only going to exercise, a delusion that Mr. Jorrocks's hat seemed to favor. Bump, bump, jog, jog, on they went, Mr. Jorrocks now chiding, now coaxing, now dropping an observation fore or aft, now looking at the sky, and now at his watch. " Des say we shall find pretty soon," observed Mr. Jorrocks, " for they tells me the cover has not been disturbed this long time, and there's lots of lyin' nice, and dry, and warm foxes like damp beds as little as Christians. Uncommon pretty betch, that Barbara, like Bravery as two peas, by Billin'sgate out o' Benedict, I think. 'Opes we may get blood ; it'll do them a deal o' good, and make them steady for the Beef and Carrots. When we gets the 'ounds all on the square, we 'ill 'ave the great Mr. Pomponious Hego to come and give us a good hoiling. Nothin' like soap. " Hooi ! you chap with the turnip- cart I " now roared our master to a cart- man coming up ; " vot do you mean by stickin' your great ugly wehicle right afore my 'ounds ! Mr. Jorrocks's 'ounds, in fact ! I'll skin ye alive 1 " added he, looking at the man, who stood staring with astonishment. And again they went, bump, bump, jog, jog, at that pleasant post-boy pace, that has roused the bile of so many sportsmen, and set so many riders fighting with their horses. At length they reached the cover side, a long wood stretching up the sides of a gently sloping hill, and widening to- wards the summit. On the crown there stood a clump of Scotch firs and hollies, forming a landmark for many miles round. Turning from the high-road into a grass field on the right, the party pulled up to reconnoitre the ground, and make their final arrangements. "Now," said Mr. Jorrocks, standing erect in his stirrups, and pointing with his whip, which had the effect of making half the pack break towards the cover, "Now," said he, as soon as he had got them turned, " this is a good big wood, two 'undred acres or more and they tells me the foxes generally lie on the risin' ground, towards the clump. The vind's north-vest, so if we puts hin at this point, we shall draw up it, and p'rhaps get close 304 JORROCKS'S HUNT. to the warmint at startin', which is a grand thing; but, hpwsomever, let's be doin'. Draw your girths, Pigg, or your 'oss '11 slip through his saddle. Now ob- serve, there are three rides one on each side, one on hup the middle, all leadin' to the clump ; and there are cross ones in all directions ; so no man need be 'fraid o' losin' himself. Now let's put in. Pigg, open the wicket." " It's locked," observed Pigg, running the hammer of his whip into the rails, throwing himself off his horse and pull- ing a great clasp-knife out of his pocket as he spoke. " Sink, but it aye gars mar knife laugh to see a lock put upon lea- ther," added he, as he drew the huge blade across the stiff band that secured the gate. Open flew the wicket in went the pack with a dash, a crash, and a little music from the riotous ones, which grad- ually yielded to "Have a care!" and " Gently, Wenus ; " Gently, Lousey ; " (Louisa), with the cracks of the whips of Mr. Jorrocks and his huntsman. " Now, Pigg, my frind, let's have a touch o' north country science," observed Mr, Jorrocks, bringing his horse along- side of his huntsman. "I'd like well to kill a fox to-day ; I'd praise you very much if we did." " Aye, aye," said Pigg. " Hoic in, Lousey 1 Solid puddin's better nor empty praise. Have at him there, Statesman, old boy, ye look like a finder. Deil bon me, but ar thought ar winded him at the crossin' there," added Pigg, pulling his horse short back to a cross ride he had just passed. " Hoic in there, Priestess, ould gal," said he, to an old black and white bitch, feathering round some gorse among the underwood, waving his hand as he spoke. " That's gospel, ar warrant ye," continued he, watching her move- ments. " What will't take for t'ard nag ? " in- quired Pigg, of a besom-rnaker, who now came down the ride with a wretched white Eosinante, laden with stolen brushwood. "Have at him, there, Challenger!" speaking to a hound. " Twenty shillin'," replied the man. " Gie ye eight ! " was the answer. " Yooi, push him up ! " to the hound. " Tak' twelve," rejoined the tinker. * Good hor?e can get up of hisself, top puller and all ! " " Aye, but we dinna want him to poole ; we want him to eat," replied Pigg. " Had still I " exclaimed he ; " ar has him ! TALLY Ho I " roared Pigg, cramming his spurs into his horse, and dashing past Jor- rocks like a shot. Out went both horns twang twang twang sounded Pigg's ; wow ! wow ! wow I went Jorrocks's, in deeper and more substantial notes, and in a very short time the body of the pack were laid on the scent, and opened the concert with an overpowering burst of melody. "Oh, beautiful! beautiful I" exclaimed Mr. Jorrocks, in rapture, as each hound put his nose to the ground, and acknow- ledged the correctness of the scent. " Oh, beautiful indeed ! " added he, thumping the end of his horn upon his thigh, as though he were cutting large gun-wad- dings out of his breeches. " 'Ow true to the line ! best 'ounds in England by far never were such a pack ! Shall have a rare Chevy all alone to ourselves ; and when I gets home I'll write an account to ' Bell's Life,' and ' The Field,' which no- body can contradict. Hark forrard ! hark forrard ! hark forrard ! away ! " continued he, ramming the spurs into Arterxerxes's sides, to induce him to change his lum- bering trot into a canter, which having accomplished, Mr. Jorrocks settled him- self into a regular home seat in his sad- dle, and pounded up a grass ride through the centre of the wood in a perfect frenzy of delight, as the hounds worked their way a little to his right with a full and melodious cry. "Hould hard, ye sackless ould sin- ner ! " now cried Pigg, crossing the main ride at a canter, and nearly knocking Jorrocks off his horse, as he charged him in his stride. " Had (hold) bye, ar say I " he roared in his master's ear, " or ar'll be dingin' on ye down fox crossed reet in onder husse's tail, and thou sits glowerin' there and never see'd him." Out went both the horns again twang I twang ! twang ; wow ! wow ! wow ! " Hark together ! hark ! get forrard, hounds, get forrard ! " cried Mr. Jorrocks, cracking his ponderous whip at some lin- gerers that loitered on the ride, question- ing the correctness of their comrades' cry. " Get forrard, I say ! " repeated he, with redoubled energy. " Confound your un- believin' souls ! " added he, as they went to cry. " Now they are all on him again ! Oh, beautiful, beautiful ! " exclaimed Mr. JORROCKS'S HUNT. 305 Jorrocks, n ecstacies. " I'll lay five pounds to a fiddler's farthin' they kill him. Mischief in their cry ! a rare scent can wind him myself." So saying, he gathered up his reins again, thrust his feet home in the stirrups, crammed the spurs into his horse, and rolled back on the ride he had just come up. " Hark ! " now cried our master, pulling up short and holding his hand in the air, as though he had a hundred and fifty horsemen at his tail to check in their career. " Hark ! " again he exclaimed ; " whoay, 'oss, whoay ! " trying to get Arterxerxes to "stand still and let him lis- ten. " Now, fool, vot are you champing the bit for ? whoay, I say ! He's turned short again ! Hoick back ! Hoick back ! They've overrun the scent," continued he, listening, as the chorus gradually died out ; " or, 1 ' added he, " he may have got to ground." " Tally ho ! " now screamed Jorrocks, as a magnificent fellow in a spotless suit of ruddy fur crossed the ride before him at a quiet, stealing, listening sort of pace, and gave a whisk of his well-tagged brush on entering the copse-wood across. " Hoop ! hoop ! hoop ! hoop ! " roared Mr. Jorrocks, putting his finger in his ear, and halloaing as loud as ever as he could shout ; and just as he got his horn fum- bled past the guard, Dexterous, Affable *nd Mercury dashed across the ride, lash- ing their sterns and bristling for blood, and Pigg appeared a little below cantering along with the rest of the pack at his horse's heels. " Here, Pigg ! there, Pigg!" roared Mr. Jorrocks; "just by the old hoak-stump. Gently now ! ah, ware 'eel that's not the vay of him ; he's hover to the left, I tells ye. That's him I Mercury has him. Hoick to Mercury, hoick ! get away, get away, get away, 'ounds ! hoick together ! hoick together ! Oh, Pigg, wot a wopper he is ! " observed Mr. Jorrocks, as Pigg joined him in the ride. "The biggest fox whatever was seen if we do but kill him my vig! I'll eat his tongue for supper. Have it grilled, ' cum grano sails," with a lee-tie Cayenne pepper, as Pomponious Hego would say." Aye,' 1 replied Pigg, grinning with de- light, his cap-peak in the air and the tobacco-juice streaming down his mouth like a Chinese mandarin. "Ar'll be the death of a shillin' mysel' ! " Saying which he hustled his horse and turned to his hounds. VOL. II. W. H. Away they go again full cry across the cover to the utmost limits, and then back again to the far side. Now the fox takes a full swing round, but won't quit now he cuts across now Mr. Jorrocks views him, and swears he'll have his brains as well as his tongue for supper. Pigg has been next, and again comes Mr. Jorrocks's turn. " Dash my vig, but he's a tough 'un ! " observed Mr. Jorrocks to James Pigg, as they met again on the rising ground at the top of the ride, where Mr. Jorrocks had been fifteen times and Pigg seventeen, both their horses streaming with perspiration, and the blue and yellow worsted fronts of the bridles embossed with foam. " Dash my vig, but it's a million and a half of petties," continued Mr. Jorrocks, looking at his watch, and seeing it wanted but twenty minutes to four, that we adwertised, for there's a wast o' go left in him yet, and he'll take the shine out of some of our 'ounds before he's done with them send them dragglin' 'ome with their sterns down make 'em cry capevi', I'm thinking." " Niver fear ! " exclaimed Pigg " niver fear ! whativer ye de keep Tamboreen a rowlin' yonder he gans ! ar wish it mayn't be a fresh un. Arn't draggled a bit." " Oh, I 'opes not ! " exclaimed Mr. Jor- rocks, the picture of despair. " Would eat him, brush and all, sooner than that. Oh, dear ! oh, dear f a fresh fox would be cruel 'ounds deserve him worked him well." " Now they begin to chass ! " exclaimed Pigg, listening to the ripening chorus. " Aye, there's a grand scent ! Ar'll be the death of a shillin' if we de but kill him. How way, ould man, how way," continued Pigg, cheeringly, jerking his arm to induce his master to follow. "Whativer ye de, keep Tambpreen a rowlin' ! " continued Pigg, spurring and jagging his horse into a canter. On man and master go now they meet Charley, and all three are together. Again they part company for different rides, each according to his fancy. There is an evi- dent improvement in the scent, but whether from a fresh fox, or the hounds having got nearer the hunted one, is mat- ter of doubt. Mr. Jorrocks is elated and excited beyond expression. The hounds are evidentlv working the fox, but the fear of a fresn one rather mars his enjoy- ment. The hounds turn short, and Pigg and Charles again join Mr. Jorrocks. 806 JORROCKS'S HUNT. " A ! man alive, but they are a dustin' his jacket!'' exclaimed Pigg, pulling up to listen ; " iv'ry hund's at him ; " saying which he pulled out a large steel box and stuffed his mouth full of tobacco. ******* A sudden pause ensues all still as death not a note not even a whimper 1 " Who hoop ! " exclaimed Mr. Jorrocks in ecstacies " Who hoop ! " I say heard the leadin' 'ound crack his back ! Old Cruiser for a guinea ! " ******* " Yonder they gan ! " cried Pigg, point- ing to a hog-backed hill on the left, over which three couple of hounds were strain- ing to gain the body of the pack saying which he clapt spurs to his horse and dashed off at full gallop, followed by Charles. ******* " Oh. dear ! oh, dear ! " exclaimed Mr. Jorrocks, the picture of despair "wot shall I do ? wot shall I do ? gone away at this hour strange country nobody to pull the 'edges down for me or catch my 'oss if I gets spilt, and there's that Pigg ridin' as if there was not never no such man as his master. Pretty kettle of fish ! " continued Mr. Jorrocks, trotting on in the line they had taken. A bridle-gate let him out of cover, and from the first hill our master sees his hounds going like pigeons over the large grazing grounds of Beddington Bottoms, with Pigg and Stubbs a little in the rear, riding as hard as ever their horses can lay legs to the ground. ******* " 'Ow that Scotch beggar rides ! " ex- claimed Mr. Jorrocks, eyeing Pigg going as straight as an arrow, which exclamation brought him to his first fence at the bot- tom of the hill, over which both horsemen had passed without disturbing a twig. " 'OLD UP, 'oss ! " roared Mr. Jorrocks, seizing his reins and whip with one hand and the cantrel of the saddle with the other, as Arterxerxes floundered sideways through a low fence with a little runner on the far side. " 'OLD UP ! " repeated he, as they got scrambled through, look- ing back and saying, " Terribly nasty place wonders I ever got over. Should ha' been drund to a certainty if I'd got in. Wouldn't ride at it again for nothin' under knighthood Sir John Jorrocks, Knight ! " continued he, shortening his hold of his horse. "And my ladyship Jorrocks ! " added he. " She'd be bad to 'old shouldn't wonder if she'd be for oin' to Halmack's. Dash my buttons, ut I wish I was off this beastly fallow," continued he; "wonderful thing to me that the farmers can't see there'd be less trouble i' growin' grass than in makin' these nasty rutty fields. 'Eavens be praised, there's a gate and a lane too," saying which he was speedily in the latter, and gathering his horse together he set off at a brisk trot in the direction he last saw the hounds going. Terribly deep it was, and great Arter- xerxes made a noise like the drawing of corks as he blobbed along through the stiff, holding clay. Thus Mr. Jorrocks proceeded for a mile or more, until he came upon a red-cloaked gipsy wench stealing sticks from a rotten fence on the left. " 'Ave you seen my 'ounds, ould gal? " inquired he, pulling up short. " Bless your beautiful countenance, my cock angel ! " exclaimed the woman, in astonishment at the sight of a man in a scarlet coat with a face to match ; " bless your beautiful countenance, you're the very babe I've been looking for all this blessed day cross my palm with a bit o' siller, and I'll tell you sich a fortin ! " " Cuss YOUK FORTIN ! " roared Mr. Jorrocks, sticking spurs into his horse, and grinning with rage at the idea of having pulled up to listen to such non- sense. "I hope you'll brick your neck, ye nasty ugly ould thief! " replied the eipsv. altering her tone. "Opes I sharn't," muttered Mr. Jor- rocks, trotting on to get out of hearing. Away he went, blob, blob, blobbing through the deep holding clay as before. Presently he pulled up again with a " Pray, my good man, 'ave you seen my 'ounds Mr. Jorrocks's 'ounds, in fact?" of a laborer scouring a fence-gutter. " Don't you 'ear me, man ? " bellowed he, as the countryman stood staring with his hand on his spade. "I be dull of hearin', sir," at length drawled the man, advancing very slowly towards our master with his hand up to his ear. " Oh, dear ! oh, dear ! " exclaimed Mr. Jorrocks, starting off again "was there ever sich a misfortunate individual a* JORROCKS'S HUNT. 307 John Jorrocks? 'Ark! vat's that? Pigg'; 'orn ? " Oh, dear, only a cow 1 Come hup 'oss, I say, you hugly beast lapped ii leather as you," giving Arterxerxes agooc double thonging as he spoke. " Oh, dear oh, dear ! '' continued he, " I wish I was well back at the Cross, with my 'ounds safe i' kennel. Vot a go is this ! Dinner at five baked haddocks, prime piece o fore chine, Portingal honions and friec plum-puddin' ; and now, by these dark enin' clouds, it must be near four, anc here I be's, miles and miles away 'ound; still runnin', and adwertised for the Bee and Carrots on Wednesday never wil be fit to go, nor to the Daisy nouther." " Pray, my good man," inquired he o: a drab-coated, big-basketed farmer, on a bay cart-horse, whom he suddenly en- countered at the turn of the road, " 'ave you seen anything of my 'ounds? Mr, Jorrocks's 'ounds, in fact ? " "Yes, sir," replied the farmer, all alive ; " they were running past Langford plantations, with the fox dead beat close afore them." " 'Ow long since, my friend ?" inquired Mr. Jorrocks, brightening up. " Oh, why just as long as it's taken me to come here, mebbe ten minutes or a quarter of an hour, not longer certainly. If you put on you may be in at the death yet." Away went spurs, elbows, and legs, Ar- terxerxes was again impelled into a can- ter, and our worthy master pounded along, all eyes, ears, and fears. Night now drew on, the darkening clouds began to lower, bringing with them fog and a drizzling rain. " Bad go, this," said Mr. Jorrocks, rubbing his hand under his coat-sleeve, and raising his face to ascer- tain the precise amount of the fall. " Bad go, indeed. Got my Sunday 'at on, too. Hooi, bouys ! did you see th' 'ounds?" inquired he of a troop of satchel-slung youths, plodding their ways homeward from school. " Y-e-a-s," at length drawled out one, after a good stare at the inquirer. " 'Ow long since? come, quick, bouy? 1 ' " May be twenty minutes ; just as we com'd past Hookem-Snivey church we seed fox, and hounds were close ahint ; he was varra tired. 1 ' " Twenty minutes," repeated Mr. Jor- rocks, aloud to himself; " twenty minutes may be a werry long way off by this ; foxes travel fast. Vich way were they u goin' ?" " Straight for Staunton-Snivey," drawl- ed the boy. "My vig!" exclaimed Mr. Jorrocks, "vot a run ; if we don't kill werry soon, it'll be pitch dark' and then there'll be a pretty kittle o' fish ; th' 'ounds will kill all the ship (sheep) i' the country ; shall have a bill as long as my h'arm to pay." Fear lent fresh impetus to our worthy friend, and tightening his hold of Ar- terxerxes' head, who now began tripping and stumbling, and floundering along in a most slovenly manner, Mr. Jorrocks trotted on, and reaching Hookem-Snivey, saw by the foot-people standing on the church-yard wall, that the hounds were " forrard ;" he turned down a lane to the left of the village stocks, in the direction the people were looking, and catching Staunton-Snivey in the distance, set off for it as hard as ever he could tear. A pretty clattering he made down the stony road. Night now drew on apace, and heavy darkening clouds proclaimed a fast ap- proaching storm. At Staunton-Snivey, he learned that the hounds had just crossed the turnpike on to the Downs, with the fox " dead beat close afore them ;" and still unwilling to give in, though every moment increased his difficulties, lie groped open a bridle-gate, and entered upon the wide-extending plain. The wind had now risen, and swept with uncommon keenness over the unprotected open. The drizzling rain, too, became changed into larger, heavier drops, and thrusting his hat upon his brow, Mr. Jor- rocks buttoned his coat up to the throat, and wrapping its laps upon his thighs, ;ucked them in between his legs and the saddle. Dismal and disheartening were lis thoughts, and many his misgivings br his rashness. " Oh, dear ! Oh, dear !" muttered he, "wot a most momentous crisis lost I lost ! lost ! completely lost I dinner lost! 'ounds lost all lost to- gether ! Oh, vot evil genius ever tempted ne from the lovely retirement o' Great 3oram Street ? Oh ! why did I neglect he friendly warnin' o' Gabriel Junks ? Change, change, storm, storm, was in his every scream, and yet I would go. Cuss ;he rain, it's gettin' down my werry back, do declare ;" saying which, he turned he blue collar of his coat up to his ears. 308 JORROCKS'S HUNT. and both laps flew out with a desperate gust of wiud. " Ord *ot it," said he, " it's not never no use persewerin", may as well give in at once and 'ark back to Snivey ; my Berlins are wet through, and I shall be drenched in another second. Who-ay, 'ossl who-ay; stand still, you hugly beast, and let me listen. The ducking-headed brute at length obeyed. " It is the 'orn," exclaimed Mr. Jor- rocks, after sitting listening for some time, with his hand to his ear ; " it is the 'orn, Pigg's not far off! There it goes again, but the 'owling wind carries so many ways, there's no saying where- abouts he is. I'll blow, and see if I can 'ail him." Mr. Jorrocks then drew out his horn, and puffed and blew most lust- ily, but the raging tempest scattered the notes before they were well out of his mouth, and having exhausted his breath, he again paused, horn in hand, to listen. Between each blast of the raging hurri- cane, the faint notes of the horn were heard, some coming more fully as the gale blew more favorably, and a fuller one falling on his ear, during a period of partial lull, Mr. Jorrocks determined on advancing and endeavouring to rejoin his lost huntsman. "Come hup, I say, you hugly beast!'' exclaimed he, getting Ar- terxerxes short by the head, and digging the spurs freely into his sides. The lum- bering brute acknowledged the compli- ment with a sort of half hitch of a kick. " Great h enterprisers brute do believe you'd rayther 'ave a feed o' corn than the finest run wot ever was seen,' 1 observed Mr. Jorrocks, cropping him. Night had now closed in, and even the sort of light of darkness that remains so long to the traveler who journeys onward with the closing day, deserted him, and earth and sky assumed the same sombre hue : " The dragon wing of night o'erspread the earth " : Scarce a star was visible in the firma- ment, and the few scattered lights that appeared here and there about the coun- try, seemed like snatches of hope lit up for the moment to allure and perplex the wanderer. "If ever mortal man catches me in such a quandary as this again," ex- claimed Mr. Jorrocks, " I 'opes oh dear I Who's there? Cus those Seidlitz poo- ders ! Speak, Isay ! vot are you f Come hup, 'oss I say I" roared he, ramming the spurs into Arterxerxes, who had suddenly shied oft' with a loud snort. " Now for a murder!' 1 ejaculated Jorrocks, still cramming in the spurs. "E-yah! E-yah ! E-yah!" went the donkey, greatly to the relief of Mr. Jor- rocks's mind, who had clenched his huge hammer-headed whip by the middle, so as to give an assailant the full benefit of its weight. Out then went his horn again, and the donkey brayed a full ac- companiment. " Oh, the deuce be with the hanimal I" cried Jorrocks grinning with vexation, " never saw a donkey yet that knew when to 'old his tongne. Oh, my vig, vot a vind ! almost blows the 'orn itself; shall be blown to hatoms, I do believe. And the rain too ! I really thinks I'm wet to the werry waistband o' my breeches. I'll lay a guinea 'at to a half-crown gossamer I haven't a dry thread upon me in 'alf a minute. Got a five-pund note i' my pocket that will be hutterly ruined. Sarves me right, for bein' such a hass as to take these 'ounds vy wasn't I content with the glorious old Surrey, and an oc- casional turn with the Cut-em-downs? Well ; I thinks this night will be the last of John Jorrocks ! Best master of 'ounds wot ever was seen. 'Orrible termination to a hactive life ; starved on a common, eat by wolves, or shepherds' dogs, which is much of a muchness as far as comfort's concerned. Why even yon donkey would be 'shamed of such an end. There goes the vind with my 'at lucky it's tied on," added he, trying to catch it as it dangled at his back, " or I should never have seen it no more. I'd give fifty punds to be back at 'Andley Cross I'd give a ' undred punds to be back at 'Andley Cross knows no more where I am than if I was among the Bohea mountains oh, dear, 'ow it pours I I'd give two 'un- dred punds to be back at 'Andley Cross yonder's a light, I do declare, two on em come hup, 'oss, I say. The hani- mal seems to have no sense ! I'll lead you, you nasty hugly brute, for I do be- lieve you'll brick my neck or my back, or both, arter all ;" so saying, Mr. Jor- rocks clambered down, and getting on to the sheltered side of the animal, pro- ceeded to plunge and roll, and stagger and stumble across the common, with the water churning in his great boots, in the direction of lights. JORROCKS'S HUN7'. 309 After a good hour's roll about the open Downs, amid a most pelting, piti- less storm, our much-respected master at length neared the longed-for lights, which he had kept steadily in view, and found they proceeded from lamps at lodges on either side of handsome gates, betokening the entrance to a large demesne. Mount- ing his horse, he rode quickly through the gates, and trusting to the sound of Arterxerxeft' hoofs for keeping the road, he jogged on in search of the mansion. Tall stately pines, rising like towers to heaven, with sombre yews in massive clumps, now made darkness visible, and presently a sudden turn of the road brought a large screen full of lights to view, some stationary, others gliding about, which acted like sunbeams ou our master's mind ; more grateful still was the shelter afforded by the lofty portals of the entrance, under which, as if by instinct, Arterxerxes bore his master, and then stood still to be delivered of his load. " The bell 'ill be somewhere here, I guess," observed Mr. Jorrocks, dis- mounting and running his hand up either side of the door-posts. "Here's as much door as would serve Jack the Giant-kil- ler's castle, and leave a little over." So saying, having grasped the bulky handle of a wall-ensconced bell, he gave it a hearty pull, and paused as they say for an answer. In an instant, two tall, highly-powdered footmen, in rich scarlet and white lace- bedaubed liveries, threw wide the folding doors as though they expected Daniel Lambert, or the great Durham ox, ex- hibiting a groom of the chamber and a lusty porter, laying down the newspapers, and hurrying from a blazing fire in the background. ****** " Perhaps you would like to be shown to your room, sir, as you seem wet?" observed the groom of the chamber, after a mutual stare, which Mr. Jorrocks did not seem likely to interrupt. "Seem vet!" exclaimed Mr. Jorrocks, stamping and shaking himself, " seem vet ; I'm just as vet as a man can be, and no vetter; but what shall I do with my 'oss? The musciful man, you know, is musciful to his quad." " Oh, there's a stall all ready for him, sir; your servant's been here this 'alf- hour and more ; I'll send the 'orse round for you, if you'll allow me, sir. Here, Jones, take hold of him, and you, Peters, run down-stairs, and tell Saul to come and take it round." "Yes,' 1 added Mr. Jorrocks; "and tell Pigg to let him have some warm gruel directly, and to get him well done hup, for he's had a hard day. Werry clever of the chap," continued Mr. Jorrocks, " runnin' to ground here seems a capi- tal house wot a passage ! like the Thames Tunnel." Jorrocks then stumped in. " This way, if you please, sir," said the groom of the chamber, motioning him across a magnificent old baronial hall, and turning short up a well-lit, softly- carpeted, winding staircase, he preceded Mr. Jorrocks, with a chamber candle, along a lengthy gallery, all hung with portraits of grim-visaged warriors, and srnall-waisted, large looming ladies. "This is your room, sir," said he, at length, opening a partially closed door, and ushering Mr. Jorrocks into a splen- didly furnished apartment, whose blazing fire, gleaming on the rich crimson cur- tains and hangings of the room, imparted a glow that long exposure to the unruly elements made appear quite enchanting. " 'Eavens be praised for these and all other mercies ! " exclaimed the grateful Mr. Jorrocks, throwing his hat and whip upon the sofa, and plunging into the luxurious depths of a many-cushioned easy- chair. "Your clothes are laid out, I think, sir," observed the groom of the chamber, casting a glance at another sofa, on which clean linen, dress clothes, shiny thin shoes, were arranged in the most ortho-> dox order. "P'rhaps you'd like somo hot water, sir?" " Yes, I should," replied Mr. Jorrocks, "werry much and a little brandy, if you've no objection." " Certainly, sir, certainly," replied the well-drilled servant, giving the top log on the fire a lift so as to make it blaze, and lighting the toilet-table candles. All this passed with such extraordinary rapidity the events of the day had been so numerous and exciting the transition from the depths of misery to the height of luxury so sudden, and, above all, the perfect confidence of the servant so se- ductively convincing, that not doubting of the accuracy of everything, and placing all to the credit of his renowned name 310 JORROCKS'S HUNT. and the acuteness of his northern hunts- man, Mr. Jorrocka proceeded with the aid of a boot-jack to suck off his adhering boots, and divest himself of his well- soaked garments. The servant presently returned with a long-necked bottle of white brandy on a massive silver tray, accompanied with hot water, lemon, su- gar, nutmeg, and a plate of biscuits. Seeing Mr. Jorrocks advancing rapidly to a state of nudity, he placed them on a table near the fire, and pointing to a bell beside the bed, observed that if he would ring when he was ready, he would come and conduct him to the drawing-room. The servant then withdrew. " Wonder if Pigg's killed the fox," observed Mr. Jorrocks to himself, pour- ing out half a tumbler of brandy and fill- ing the glass up with hot water. "Capital fun 'anting, to be sure," said he, sipping away ; " 'specially ven one gets into a good quarter like this, 1 ' continued he, jerking his head, "but desperation poor fun sleepin' on a common ! " and there- upon, after a few more preliminary sips, he drained off the tumbler. " May as well vet both eyes," observed he, as he, felt the grateful influence of the brandy upon his nearly exhausted frame, saying which he poured himself out an- other half tumbler of brandy, and adding sugar and lemon, drank off a good part of it, and left the remainder till he got himself washed. "Werry considerate this," said he, " werry considerate indeed," he repeated, taking a large Turkey sponge out of the handle of a hip bath of warm water, shaded from the fire by a glass screen, inside of which upon a rail hung a row of baked towels. " Kettle too," said he, now attracted by its simmering, " may as well have a boil ;" so saying, he emptied the contents into the bath, and pulling off his wig, proceeded to wash and disport himself therein, using the sponge as if it was his own. In the midst of nis ablu- tions the door opened, and through the glass screen he saw a servant in a dark coat and scarlet waistcoat enter, and has- tily retire as he caught a glimpse of our white Hottentot-like hero squatting in the water. Out Mr. Jorrocks got, and bolted the door, and hearing something going on in the passage, he listened for a moment and caught divers scraps of con- versation, apparently between a servant and his master, such as, " Why, you stu- pid fool, don't you know the room ? You certainly are the greatest ass ever man encumbered himself with." " Beg pardon, sir, I could have sworn that was the room." " Stuff and nonsense ! look along the passage, the doors are all so much alike, no wonder a fool like you is puzzled " ; saying which the voices moved along, and Mr. Jorrocks heard the knocking and opening of doors all along the gallery, until they gradually died away in the distance. Our hero had just done with his bath, and finished his brandy and water, when the sound of returning foot- steps again drew his attention to his door, and an angry voice and a meek one sounded alternately through the panels. " Now what are you staring there about, you great idiot keeping me shivering iii my wet clothes. If this is the room, why don't you knock ? " 'Please, sir, there's a gen'leman in." ' How d' you know ? " ' Saw him, sir." ' Then it can't be my room." ' Laid your clothes out in it howsom- ever, sir." ' How do you know this is it ? " "Cause I tied this bit of straw round the 'andle of the door." " Then knock and ask the gentleman to let you in, and get my clothes out again. You've put them into the wrong room, that's the long and short of the matter stupid fool ! " The servant then ventured a very respectful double tap. " WHO'S THERE ? " roared Jorrocks, in a voice of thunder. "Beg pardon, sir, but I think I've made a mistake, sir, with master's clothes, sir." " No, YOU HAVEN'T ! " replied Mr. Jor- rocks, in the same sweet tone as before. " Oh, beg pardon, sir," rejoined the ser- vant. " Now ARE YOU SATISFIED ? " roared the master in the Jorrockian strain. " Go along, you fool, and seek a servant." ***##* In a few minutes there was a renewed and increased noise outside, and Mr. Jorrocks now recognized the bland voice of his friend the grooir of the chamber. " Beg pardon, sir,' said he softly through the door, " but would you allow me to speak to you for a moment ? " JOEROCKS'S HUNT. 311 "Certainly," replied Mr. Jorrocks; ' talk through the door." " Please, sir, would you " blige me with your name, sir ? " "Certainly! Mr. Jorrocks, to be sure! The M. F. H. ! Who else should it be ? " " Oh, I fear, sir, there's a mistake, sir. This room, sir, was meant for Captain Widowfield, sir. Those are his clothes, sir." " The deuce ! '* exclaimed Mr. Jorrocks, in disgust. " Didn't Pigg tell you I was a comin' ? " " It was the captain's servant I took for yours, sir." "Humph ! " grunted Mr. Jorrocks, "that won't do ; at all events, I can't part With the garments. 1 ' " I will thank you, sir, to let my servant remove my clothes from my room," ob- served Captain Widowfield, in a slow, determined tone through the door. " My good friend," replied Mr. Jorrocks, altering his accent, " 'ow is it possible for me to part with the garments when I've nothin' o' my own but wot's as drippin' wet as though I'd been dragged through the basin of the Paddin'ton Canal ? re- g'larly salivated in fact ! " " I have nothing to do with that, sir, 1 ' exclaimed the captain, indignantly ; "I'm wet myself. Will you open the door, I say f " "No I won't," replied Mr. Jorrocks, " and that's the plain English of it!" So saying, he swaggered back to the fire with the air of a man resisting an imposition. He then mixed himself a third tumbler of brandy and water. It may be well here to mention that the mansion in which Mr. Jorrocks so suddenly found himself was Onger Castle, where Michael Hardy, the founder of the hunt, found himself at the end of his long and successful run. The vicissitudes of many years had thrice changed the owner- ship of the castle since the day when the good earl greeted our primitive sportsman on killing his fox before the castle win- dows, and the present possessor was nephew to that nobleman, who having that day attained his majority, was about to celebrate the event among a party of friend-? and neighbors. Having waited until half-past six to welcome Captain Widowfield, before dressing, his lordship at length conclu- ded the storm had prevented his coming ; and the party, consisting of five or six and twenty, were in the act of retiring to their respective apartments to prepare for dinner, when Walker, the aforesaid groom of the chamber, came hurrying along, pale in the face from the parley in the passage, followed by the captain in a high state of exasperation, to announce the appearance of an uninvited guest. No sooner was the name "Jorrocks" announced than a shout of triumph and a roar of laughter burst from all present ; and after learning the particulars of his arrival, which seemed to fill every one with ecstasies, (for during the long wait before dressing, they had talked over and abused all their absent friends,) his lord- ship begged the gallant captain to be pacified, and put up with a suit of his clothes for the evening. " It was no use being angry with old Jorrocks," he observed, " whom every- body said was mad ; and he trusted the amusement he would afford the company would atone for the inconvenience he had subjected his good friend, the cap- tain, to." The doctrine, though anything but satisfactory to a man burning for ven- geance, seemed all the consolation the captain was likely to get, so returning with Walker, he borrowed the roomiest suit of Lord Brambers' clothes, and while attiring himself in them, he considered how best he could have his revenge. Meanwhile our hero, having disposed of his third tumbler of stiff brandy and water, which contributed materially to the restoration of his usual equanimity, began to appropriate the clothes so con- veniently laid out on the sofa. Captain Widowfield was a stout, big fellow, as bulky as Jorrocks, and much taller, and being proud of his leg was wont to adorn his lower man in shorts on high days and holidays ; so having drawn on a pair of fine open-ribbed black-silk stockings over the gauzeones, Mr. Jorrocka speedily found himself in a pair of shorts, which, by dint of tight girthing, he man- aged to bring up to the middle of hia calves. The captain's cravat was of black satin, the waistcoat a white one, articles, as Mr. Jorrocks observed, that could be reefed or let out to fit any one, and hav- ing plunged into the roomy recesses of a blue coat, with conservative buttons, he surveyed the whole in the cheval glass, and pronounced them " werry good." H S12 JORROCKS'S HUNT. then exchanged the captain's lily and rose -worked slippers for his patent-leather pumps, and the brandy acting forcibly on an empty stomach, banished all diffi- dence, and made Jorrocks ring the bell as though the house were his own. #*#**## " You've got me into a pretty scrape with the Earl," said Walker, entering the room ; " I thouerht you were Captain Widowfield." "Did you?" replied Mr. Jorrocks, placing himself before the fire with a coat-lap over each arm. "You'll know better another time. But tell me, what hearl is it you are talkin' about?" " The Earl of Bramber, to be sure," re- plied the servant. " What 1 this is his shop, is it ?" in- quired Jorrocks "Onger Castle, in fact?" " Yes ; I thought you had been one of the party when I showed you in here," replied Walker. * Oh, never mind," said Mr. Jorrocks, "where there's ceremony there's no frind- ship I makes no doubt I shall be werry welcome See ; there's five shillin's for you," giving him a dollar. " You mustn't let the captain in here though, mind. Now tell us, is there any grub to get ?" " Dinner will be served in a quarter of an hour," replied Walker. " Dinner! " exclaimed Mr. Jorrocks, looking at his watch ; " ten minutes past siven, and not dined yet ; what will the world come to next? Dead o' winter, too !" Walker then conducted him down stairs, and ushered him into a splendid drawing-room, brilliantly lighted up, whose countless mirrors reflected his jolly person a hundred-fold. The housemaids were just giving the finishing sweep to the grates, and the footmen lighting the candles and lamps, when our master en- tered ; so making up to a table all cov- ered with pamphlets and papers, he drew an easy chair towards it, and proceeded to make himself comfortable. Lord Bramber was the first to enter. He was a tall, handsome young man, of delicate appearance and gentlemanly manners. He wore moustachios, and was dressed in a black coat and trousers, with a white waistcoat. Seeing a stranger, he had no difficulty In settling who he was, BO he advanced with a bow and extended hand to greet him. Mr. Jorrocks was up in an instant. " My Lord, ' necessitas non habet legs* as that classical statesman, Mr. Pompon- ius Hego, would say or, ' 'unger makes a man bold,' as I would say I'm werry glad to see you;" saying which, he shook his lordship's hand severely. "-Thank you," replied Lord Bramber, smiling at his guest's hospitality ; " thank you," repeated he " hope you left Mrs. Jorrocks and your family well." " Thank'e" said Mr. Jorrocks, " thank'e, my lordship," as the existence of his bet- ter half was brought to his recollection ; "'opes I sharn't find her as I left her." "How's that? I hope she is not un- well?" inquired his lordship with well- feigned anxiety. " Oh, no," replied Mr. Jorrocks, raising his eye-brows with a shrug of his shoul- ders ; " oh, no, only I left her in a werry bad humour, and I 'opes I shall not find her in one when I gets back haw, haw, haw, he, he, he, e'pose your 'at (hat) covers your family wish mine did too, for atwixt you and I and the wall, my lordship, women are werry weary war- mints. I say, my lord, a gen'leman should dp nothin' but 'unt, it's the sport of kings, the image of war, without its guilt, and only five-and-twenty per cent, of its danger. You've got a werry good shop here capital shop, I may say," added he, surveying the rich orange silk furniture and gilding of the room. " Wonder how long this room is ? Sixty feet, I dare say, if it's a hinch; let's see." So saying, Mr. Jorrocks, having set his back against the far wall, took a coat-lap over each arm, and thrusting his hands into Cap- tain Widowfield's breeches pockets, pro- ceeded to step the apartment. '' One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, four- teen, fifteen, sixteen," when he was inter- rupted in his measurement by tKe open- ing of the door, and entrance of some of the guests. He was introduced to each in succession, including Captain Widow- field, a big, red-whiskered, pimply-faced, choleric-looking gentleman, to whom our worthy master tendered the hand of feU lowship, in perfect ignorance of his being the person with whom he had L.eld com- munion sweet through the door. Dinner was then announced. JORROCKS'S HUNT. 313 We suppose our readers will not care to have the names of the guests who sat down to the banquet, or yet the wines or viands that constituted the repast; suf- fice it to say, that the company consisted chiefly of people in the neighborhood, sprinkled with a few idle Honourables, who lend themselves out to garnish coun- try-houses in the dull season, and the best French and English cookery fur- nished the repast. Despite the prevailing non-wineing fashion, everybody, save Captain Widow- field, drank vrine with Mr. Jorrocks, and before the dessert appeared, the poor gen- tleman, what from the effects of brandy on an empty stomach before dinner, and wine on a full one during it, began to clip her Majesty's English very consider- ably. " Never were such 'ounds as mine," he kept hiccupping, first into one neigh- bour's ear and then into another. " Never were such 'ounds (hiccup), certainly hurrah, I say (hiccup), Jorrocks is the boy ! Forward ! hark, forward, away ! (hiccup). You must come and 'unt with me," hiccupped he to the gentleman on the left. " Beef and Onions on Wednes- day, (hiccup) Candid Pig no, Moun- tain Daisy, (hiccup) Saturday James Pigg is a real warmint (hiccup) a trump, a real trump, (hiccup) and no mistake. Give me port, none o' your clarety wines." The Earl of Bramber's health, of course, was proposed in a bumper, with " all the honours.'' Mr. Jorrocks hooped and hol- loaed at the top of his voice an exertion that put the finishing stroke to his per- formance, for on attempting to resume his seat he made a miscalculation of dis- tance, and fell with a heavy thump upon the floor. After two or three rolls he was lifted into his chair; but speedily resu- ming his place on the floor, Walker was summoned with two stout footmen to carry him to bed. Captain Widowfield followed to make sure of his clothes: the gap caused by Mr. Jorrocks' secession was speedily closed in, and the party resumed the convivialities of the evening. The room to which our master was transferred was the dressing-room, over a large swimming-bath, on the eastern side of the castle, and very cozily he was laid into a little French bed. Walker wound UD his watch, Captain Widowfield walked off with his clothes, and our drunken hero was left alone in his glory. The events of the day, together with the quantity of brandy and wine he had drank, and the fatigue consequent upon his exertions, combined to make Mr. Jor- rocks feverish and restless, and he kept dreaming, and tossing, and turning, and tumbling about, without being able to settle to sleep. First, he fancied he was riding on the parapet of Waterloo Bridge with Arterxerxes, making what he would call a terrible fore-paw (faux pas), or stumble ; next, that he was benighted on the common, and getting devoured by shepherds' dogs ; then, that having bought up all the Barcelona nuts in the world, and written to the man in the moon to secure what were there, he saw them be- come a drug in the market, and the firm of Jorrocks and Co. figuring in the "Ga- zette." Next, he dreamt that he had got one of James Pigg's legs and one of his own that on examination they both turned out to be left ones, and he could not get his boots on. Now that he was half- famished, and chained, to a wall in sight of a roast goose anon that the Queen had sent to say she wanted to dance with him, and he couldn't find his pumps; " No ! give him all the world, sir, he couldn't find his pumps." Now that the Prince wanted to look at Arterxerxes, and he couldn't find the ginger. " No : give him all the world, sir, he couldn't find the ginger !" Then he got back to the chase, and in a paroxysm of rage, as he fancied himself kicking on his back in a wet ditch, with Benjamin running away with his horse, his dreams were in- terrupted by a heavy crack, bang, splash sort of sound, and in an instant he was under water. All was dark &nd still. His dreams, though frightful, had all vanished as he awoke, and after rising to the top he waited an instant to see if this would not do likewise; but the sad reality was too convincing, so he began bellow- ing, and roaring, and splashing about in a most resolute manner. "Hooi! hooi! hooil" spluttered he, with his eyes and mouth full of water. "'ElpI 'elp! 'elpt 'elp! I'm a drownin', I'm a drownin' ! Mr. Jorrocks is a drownin' oh, dear, oh, dear, will nobody come? Oh, vere am I? vere am I? Bin- jimin! I say, Binjimin! James Piggf James Pigg I James Pia'g ! Batsay ! Bat- say I Murder ! 'elp ! Murder I 'elp !" 814 HUNT. " What's happen'd ? what's happen'd? what's happen'd? Who's there? who's there? Oh, dear! oh, dear! oh, dear!" screamed half-a-dozen voices at once, rushing with candles into the gallery of the swimming-bath. " Vot's 'appen'd?" replied Mr. Jorrocks, blobbing and striking put for hard life with his white cotton night-capped head half under water ; " Vy, I'm drownin'. 'Elp ! 'elp I 'elp, I say ! Oh, vill nobody come to 'elp?" "Throw out the rope! throw out the rope ! *' cried half-a-dozen voices. " No ; get a boat," responded Mr. Jor- rocks, thinking there was little choice be- tween hanging and drowning. " Oh dear, I'm sink in , I'm sinking' ! " " Come to this side, cried one, " I'll lend you a hand out " ; thereupon Mr. Jorrocks struck out with a last desperate effort, and dashed his head against the wall. They then pulled him out of the bath, and with great care and condolence put him to bed again. He was still rather drunk at least, not quite sober ; for when pressed to exchange his wet shirt for a dry one, he hugged himself in it, exclaiming "No, no; they'll worry it! They'll worry it ! " ##**#** "Your master's just gone through," said Anthony Smith at the Barrow Hill Gate. " Mar maister ! " replied Pigg, " what, Squire Jorrocks ? " " Yeas," said the man, "he was axing if I could tell him what became of his hounds yesterday." " Indeed," replied Pigg, " give me four- pence and a ticket." On Pigg trotted as well as he could with a pack of hounds without a whipper- in, and catching a view of Mr. Jorrocks's broad red back rounding a bend of the road, he gave a puff of his horn that acted like magic. Mr. Jorrocks stopped as though he were shot. Turning short back, he espied his huntsman and the hounds, and great was the joy and exultation at meeting. Killed him did you say ! " exclaimed Mr. Jorrocks, in ecstasies, " vere's his brush . " " A, sink 'em, they'd spoil'd it," replied Pigg, " afore iver I gat te them but ar's gotten his head i' my pocket! " " Patch it out I " exclaimed Mr. Jorrocks, " vy, man, you should ride with it at your osses' side. Have you never a couple loupto your saddle? run abifrof vipcord through his suout, and let the world see the wonders we've done you've no pro- per pride about you ! There now," con- tinued he, having adjusted the head at Pigg's saddle side, " let the world see it don't let your coat lap hang over it." Thus Mr. Jorrocks and Pigg proceeded at a foot's pace, relating their mutual ad- ventures. Before they had got to the end of their stories, who but Charles should pop upon them from a by-road, and the three having got together again, they en- tered Handley Cross in triumphant pro- cession, as though they had never parted. Rumors of the run had been rife all the morning, but in what direction it had been, nobody could tell. The stables and kennel were besieged by inquirers, and Mr. Fribbleton, the man-milliner, who edited the "Paul Pry," having been granted an audience, managed from Mr. Jorricks's account to manufacture the fol- lowing article for the second edition of his paper. It was headed BRILLIANT RUN WITH MR. JOKROCKS'8 HOUNDS ! and proceeded " As this unrivalled pack were taking their daily exercise on the Summerton road, accompanied by the huntsman, their worthy master, and his friend, Mr. Charles Stubbs, a large dog-fox suddenly crossed before them, with which the pack went away in gallant style, despite all efforts to stop them, as they were advertised to meet at the Round-of-Beef and Carrots to-morrow. The place the fox so suddenly popped upon them was just at the four- mile-stone, near the junction on the Appledove road, and as there were some coursers on Arthington open fields, it is conjectured bold Reynard having been suddenly disturbed by the long dogs, had come upon the hounds in a somewhat ruffled state of mind, without dreaming of his danger. However, he was quickly convinced that there was some, by the cry of his redoubtable pursuers, and the short- ness of his start caused him to put his best leg foremost; and setting hia head for Wallaton Plantations, he went straight as an arrow toward them, passing near the main earths on Thoresby Moor, and JORROCKS'S HUNT. 315 going through the low end of the planta- tion, where they run out into a belt. " Here he was chased by a woodman's dog, and the hounds came to a momentary check ; but Mr. Jorrocks, being well up, made a scientific cast forward, and getting upon the grass, they hit off the scent at a meuse, and went at a racing pace down to Crowland, through Lady Cross Park, leaving Bilson a little on the right, and so on to Langford Plantations, from thence by King's Gate to Hookem-Snivey, and on by Staunton-Snivey to the Downs, cross- ing at Depedean, leaving the Windmill to the right, and the Smugglers' Cave on the left. Night and a hurricane now came on ; but, despite all impediments, this truly gallant pack realised their fox at the foot of Gunston Crags. A few more minutes would have thrown the mantle of protection over the varmint, for the crags are strongholds, from whence foxes are seldom or never dislodged. It was the biggest Reynard that ever was seen, and the tag of his tail was uncommonly large. " The distance gone over could not have been less than five-and-twenty miles ; and altogether it was the very finest run ever encountered in the annals of fox-hunting. Mr. Jorrocks went like a bird, and earned a title to a niche among the crack riders of England. "The hounds lay out all night, but have arrived at Handlev Cross in very fair order ; and we trust this run is a prelude to a long career of brilliant sport that we shall have the good fortune to record un- der the auspices of their most sporting master, and his equally renowned and energetic Scotch huntsman Charles Pigg." Mr. Jorrocks wrote the following letter to Bill Bowker : " Dear Bowker : " Yours to hand, and note the contents. We've had a buster ! Three hours with- out a check and a kill ! Should have been 'appy to have sent old ' Nunquam Dormio ' * an account, but it was a bye on the sly, and no one being out, there are no names to bring in. It's soapin' chaps cleverly wot makes a run read. Howsom- ever, I hopes to have lots of clippers for him to record before long. Not that I cares about fame, but it's well to let the * An eye, with " nunquam dormio " round, is the rwt and motto of " Bell'i Life." 'ounds have the credit of what they do. You say Dormio will spice the articles up with learning and Latin. Latin be 'anged ! Greek, too, if there's any grown now-a- days. Now for the run. " It's an old sayin' and a true 'un, that a bad beginnin' often makes a good endin.' We lost Binjamin at startin' ; the little beggar was caught in the spikes of a po- chay and carried a stage out of town teach him to walk up street for futur'. Howsomever, off we set without him, and a tremendous run was the result. 1 send you the ' Pry.' and you can judge for yourself; the first part, about the find, must be taken ' cum grano salis,' with a leetle Quieanne pepper, as Pompouius Ego would say. We meant to have a pri- vate rehearsal, as it were, and got a five- act comedy instead of a three. Indeed, it were like to have been a tragedy. " Somehow or other I got to the Earl of Bramber's, where there was a great spread, and I had a good blow-out and a solemnish drink. Either I walked in my sleep and fell into a pond or some one pitched me into one, and I was as near drowned as a toucher. Howsomever, I got out, and werry attentive people were to me, givin' me brandy, and whiskey, and negus, and all sorts of things. I slept pretty well after it, nevertheless; but when I awoke to get up I seemed to be in quite a different room no bell, no lookin'- glass, no washstand, no towels, no nothin', but my 'unting clothes were laid nice and orderly. I dressed, and found my way to the breakfast-room, when sich a roar of laughter greeted my entrance I Still, they were all werry purlite ; but I observed, whenever a servant came in, he nearly split his sides with laughin'. Well, jist as I was goin' away I caught a sight of myself in a glass, and, oh, crikey ! my face was painted broad red and yellow stripes, zebra-fashion ! I couldn't be angry, for it was so werry well done ; but it certainly was werry disrespectful to an *M. F. H. Have no great fancy for lords werry apt to make first a towel and then a dish-clout on one. But enough of that. " I hope the Slender has not been silly enough to shoot an exciseman ; they are clearly not game. It will be haukward for them both if he has : course he has too many legal friends not to get the best ad- * Master of Fox Hound*. 316 THE COUNTRY SQUIRE. vice. I'm sorry to hear about Susan's legs they were a pair of uncommon neat ones, certainlie; all the symmetry of Westris's without the sinallness. I don't think blisterin' would do them any good; re>s t rest with occasional friction : hand- rubbin', in fact, is the best thing. " Charley's .quite well, and slept last night at a lunatic's, a poor chap wot went Mad about 'unting. You needn't send him none of your nasty 'baccy down here, for I don't stand smokin'. As you say Snarle's business has fallen off, you'll have fewer common forms to copy and more time for letter-writing. Tip us a stave when you've nothin' to do, and be- lieve ma yours to serve. "JOHN JOBROCKS. P. S. 1. I enclose you 5 I. for the Slen- der. Tell him to buy a good hard-mouthed counsel with it. I fear Billy's only a 'lusus natur', or ' loose 'un by natur', as Pomponius would say. J. J . P. S. 2. Tell Fortnum and Mason to send me a dozen pots of marmalade ; also Gilbertsen to send me three quartern loaves two brown and a wite every other day. Can't get sich bread as his 'ere, and neither Alum nor Branfoote sub- scribe a dump to the 'ounds, so its no use puzzonin' oneself on their account. Also see Painter, and tell him if his turtl'g tirst chop, to send me six quarts, with a suitable quantity of punch. "J. J." THE COUNTRY SQUIRE. [Dosi TOMAS TBIARTE, an eminent Spanish poet, was born at Teneriffe, 1750. He is chiefly known to Englkh readers by his ' Fabulas Literarias ' (Literary Fables) published 1782. These fables have been frequently translated in this country and in America. The latest- and by far the most successful translation, is that by Mr. Robert Rockliff, published in Liverpool, 1854. Mr. Rockliff has caught tliu happy manner and free versification of his author in no ordinary degree, and his complete collection of Yriarte's Fables is one of the most excellent translations from a foreign language which has appeared of late years. Yriartc died in 1798.] A COUNTRY squire, of greater wealth than wit (For fools are often bless'd with fortune's smile), Bad built a splendid house, and furnish'd it In splendid style. ' One thing is wanted,' said a friend ; ' for though The rooms are fine, the furniture profuse, You lack a library, dear sir, for show, If not for use.' ' 'Tis true ; but, zounds ! ' replied the squire with glee, ' The lumber-room in yonder northern wing (I wonder I ne'er thought of it) will be The very thing. ' I'll hare it fitted up without delay With shelves and presses of the newect mode And rarest wood, befitting every way A squire's abode. ' And when the whole is ready, I'll despatch My coachman a most knowing fellow- down, To buy me, by admeasurement, a batch Of books in town.' But ere the library was half supplied With all its pomp of cabinet and shelf, The booby Squire repented him, and cried Unto himself: ' This room is much more roomy than I thought ; Ten thousand volumes hardly would suffice To fill it, and would cost, however boughl, A plaguy price. ' Now, as I only wanl them for their looks, It might, on second thoughts, be just as good, And cost me next to nothing, if the books Were made of wood. ' It shall be so. I'll give the shaven deal A coat of paint a colourable dress, To look like calf or vellum, and conceal Its nakedness. 'And gilt and letter'd with the author'a name, Whatever is most excellent and rare Shall be, or seem to be ('tis all the same) Assembled there.' The work was done; the simulated hoards Of wit and wisdom round tb chambei stood, THE DEAD ALIVE. 317 In bindings some; and some, of course, in hoards, Where all were wood From bulky folios down to slender twelves The choicest tomes in many an even row Displayed their letter'd backs upon the shelves, A goodly show. With such a stock, which seemingly sur- pass'd The best collection ever form'd in Spain Wkat wonder if the owner grew at last Supremely vain? What wonder, as he paced from shelf to shelf, And conn'd their titles, that the Squire Despite his ignorance, to think himself A learned man ? Let every amateur, who merely looks To "backs and bindings, take the hint and sell His costly library ; for painted books Would serve as well. TEIAETE. THE BEAR AND THE MONKEY. A BEAR, with whom a Portuguese Joined company to earn their bread, Essayed on half his legs to please The public, where his master led. With looks that boldly claimed applfiuse, He asked the ape, 7 ' Sir, what think you ? " The ape was skilled in dancing-laws, And answered, " It will never do." "You judge the matter wrong, my friend," Bruin rejoined ; " you are not civil 1 Were these legs given for you to mend The ease and grace with which they swivel? " It chanced a pig was standing by : " Bravo ! astonishing ! encore ! " Exclaimed the critic of the sty ; " Such dancing we shall see no more ! " Poor Bruin, when he heard rhe sentence, B'-gan an inward calculation ; Then with a face that spoke repentance, Expressed aloud his meditation : " When the sly monkey called me dunce, I entertained some slight misgiving; But, Pig, thy praise has proved at once That dancing will not earn my living." Let every candidate for fame Rely upon this wholesome rule : Your work is bad, if wise men blame ; But worse, if lauded by a fool. THOMAS D YEIABTI. THE DEAD ALIVE. [PIERRE JEAN DE BKBANGER, the greatest lyric poet that France has produced, (he has been called the Burns of France,) was born at Paris in 1780. The in- fluence of his songs on the public mind during the Revolutions of 1830 and 1848 is now matter of his- tory. Speaking of his songs, Goethe says, ' They are so full of mature cultivation, of grace, wit, and subtlest irony; they are so artistically finished, and their lan- guage is so masterly, that he is admired not only by France, but by the whole of civilized Europe.' In the LIBKAEY OF WIT AND HUMOR, we, of course, can only exhibit the humorous side of Beranger's muse. His perception of the ludicrous was undoubtedly great, but it is in the composition of political and patriotic lyrics that his greatest power lay. lie died in 1857, leaving an Autobiography, which was afterwards pub- lished. A volume of excellent translations from B6ranger, by Robert B. Brough, appeared in London in 1856, and from it we have extracted the following poem, as also that uf the ' King of Yvetot.'] WHEN a bore gets hold of me, Dull and over-bearing, Be so kind as pray for me, I'm as dead as herring. When the thrusts of Pleasure glib In my sides are sticking, Poking fun at every rib, I'm alive and kicking. When a snob his s. d. Jingles in his breeches, Be so kind as pray for me, I'm as dead as ditches. When a birthday's champagne-corki Round my ears are clicking, Marking time with well oil'd worka, I'm alive and kicking. Kings and their supremacy Occupy the table, Be so kind as pray for me. I'm as dead as Abel. 818 THE KING OF YVETOT. Talk about the age of wine (Bought by cash or ticking), So you bring a sample fine, I'm alive and kicking. When a trip to Muscovy Tempts a conquest glutton, Be so kind as pray for me, I'm as dead as mutton. Match me with a tippling foe, See who first wants picking From the dead man's field below, I'm alive and kicking. When great scribes to poetry March, by notions big led, Be so kind as pray for me, I'm as dead as pig-lead. When you start a careless song, Not at grammar sticking, Good to push the wine along, I'm alive and kicking. When a bigot, half-hours three, Spouts in canting gloom's tones, Be so kind as pray for me, I'm as dead as tomb-stones. When in cloisters under ground, Built of stone or bricking, Orders of the Screw you found, I'm alive and kicking. Bourbons back in France we see (Sure we don't much need 'em), Be so kind as pray for me, I'm as dead as Freedom. Bess returns, and still our throats Find us here a slicking, Sitting free without our coats I'm alive and kicking. Forced to leave this company, Bottle-wine and horn-ale, Be so kind as pray for me, I'm as dead as door-nail. Pledging though a quick return, Soon my anchor sticking On the shore for which I yearn I'm alive and kicking. BEBANOER. THE KING OF YVETOT. [ Trantlated from the French of Stranger by Robert B. trough.} IT was a king of Yvetot, Whom few historians name ; A sleeper fast, a waker slow, No dreams had he of fame. By Betty's hand with nightcap crown'd, He snored in state the whole clock round- Profound ! Ha! ha! ha! ha! Ho! ho! hoi liol A kingdom match with Yvetot 1 Ho! ho! Four goodly meals a day, within His palace-walls of mud, He stow'd beneath his royal skin ; And on an ass his stud In triumph through his realm would jog, His guard, with vigilance agog, A dog ! Ha! ha! ha! ha! Ho! ho! ho! ho! A kingdom match with Yvetot ! Ho! ho! No costly regal tastes had he, Save thirstiness alone ; But ere a people blest can be, We must support the throne ! So from each cask new tapp'd he got, (His own tax-gath'rer) on the spot, A pot! Ha! ha! ha! ha! Ho! ho! ho! ho! A kingdom match with Yvetot I Ho! ho! So well he pleased the damsels all, The folks could understand A hundred reasons him to call The Father of his Land. His troops he levied in his park But twice a year to hit a mark, And lark ! Ha! ha! ha! ha! Ho! ho! ho! ho! A kingdom match with Yvetot I Ho! ho! To stretch his rule he never sought ; No neighbours' slumbers vexed ; To frame his laws (as good kings ought) Took pleasure's code for text. Be never caused his subjects dear To shed save only on his bier A tear ! Ha! ha! ha! ha! Ho! ho! ho! ho! A kingdom match with Yvetot ! Ho! ho! The portrait of this prince serene, The greatest of his line, [n Yvetot may still be seen, His fav'rite beer-shop's sign ! On holidays the boozing crowd SCHNAPPS. Shout, pledging deep the relic proud, Aloud, Ha! ha! ha! ha! Ho! ho! hoi ho! He was the king for Yvetot ! Ho! ho! BERANOER. THE HAPPY MAN. [FROM the French of Gilles Menage, one of the most distinguished tnen of letters in France, who was born at Angers in 1613. Died, 1692. He is now best known M the Author of J\ltnagiana, one of the most excellent and original of the celebrated Ana of France. The following poem bears a remarkable resemblance to Goldsmith's Madame Blaixe, and it is quite possible that the latter may have been suggested by it.] LA GALLISSE low I wish to touch; Droll air! It I can strike it, I'm sure the siong will please you much; That is, if j ou should like it. La Gallisse wjis indeed, I grant, Not used to any dainty When he was born but could not want, As long as he had plenty. Instructed with the greatest care, He always was well bred, And never used a hat to wear, But when 'twas on his head. His temper was exceeding good, Just of his father's fashion ; And never quarrels broil'd his blood, Except when in a passion. His mind was on devotion bent ; He kept with care each high day, And rloly Thursday always spent, The day before Good Friday. He liked good claret very well, I just presume to think it; For ere its flavour he could tell, He thought it best to drink it. Than doctors more he loved the cook, Though food would make him gross ; And never any physic took, But when he took a dose. happy, happy is the swain The ladies so adore ; For many followed in his train, r he walk'd before. Bright as the sun his flowing hair In golden ringlets shone ; And no one could with him compare, If he had been alone. His talents I can not rehearse, But every one allows, That whatsoe'er he wrote in verse, No one could call it prose. He argued with precision nice, The learned all declare ; And it was his decision wise, No horse could be a mare. His powerful logic would surprise, Amuse, and much delight: He proved that dimness of the eyes Was hurtful to the sight. They liked him much so it appean Most plainly who preferr'd him ; And those did never want their can, Who any time had heard him. He was not always right, 'tis true, And then he must be wrong ; But none had found it out, he knew, If he had held his tongue. Whene'er a tender tear he shed, 'Twas certain that he wept ; And he would lay awake in bed, Unless, indeed, he slept. In tilting everybody knew His very high renown ; Yet no opponents he o'erthrew, But those that he knock'd down.. At last they smote him in the head What hero e r er fought all ? And when they saw that he was dead, They knew the wound was mortal. And when at last he lost his breath, It closed his every strife ; For that sad day that seal'd his death, Deprived him of his life. SCHNAPPS. [THIS spirited translation from the German of Selbv appeared anonymously in the Ltublm University Maga- xine a few years ago.] I'm rather slow at extravaganzas, And what your poets call thunderclaps ; 320 RHINE- WINE. I'll therefore spin you some sober stanzas Concerning nothing at all but Schnapps. And though my wisdom, like Sancho Panza's, Consists entirely of bits and scraps, I'll bet you fourpence that no man plans as Intense a poem as I on Schnapps. Schnapps, is you know, the genteelest liquid That any tapster in Potsdam taps ; When you've tobacco, and chew a thick quid, You've still to grin for your glass of Schnapps. You then wax funny, and show your slick wit, And smash to smithers with kicks and Whatever 's next you in Latin quicquid For I quote Horace when lauding Schnapps. I've but one pocket for quids and coppers, Which last moreover are mostly raps, Yet 'midst my ha'pence and pipes and stoppers I still find room for a flask of Schnapps. My daily quantum is twenty croppers, Or ten half-noggins ; but, when with chaps Who, though good Schnappers, are no slip- sloppers, I help to empty a keg of Schnapps. Being fifty, sixty, or therebetwixt, I Guess many midnights cannot now elapse Before the hour comes in which my fixt eye Must look its last upon Earth and Schnapps. SELBER. SONG FOR PUNCH DRINKERS. From the German of schiiler. FOUR be the elements, Here we assemble 'em, Each of man's world And existence an emblem. Press from the lemon The slow-flowing juices Bitter is life In its lessons and uses. Bruise the fair sugar lumps Nature intended Her sweet and severe To be everywhere blended. Pour the still water Unwarning by sound, Eternity's ocean Is hemming us round. Mingle the spirit, The life of the bowl- Man is an earth-clod Unwarm'd by a soul I Drink of the stream Ere its potency goes I No bath is refreshing Except while it glows I Puma. MATTHIAS CLAUDIUS". [Tms amiable man and agreeable writer was born in 1740, at Keinfeldt in Holstein, near Lttbeek. He lived for some time in Wandsbeck. In 1776, he was ap- pointed to a public office in Darmstadt, but returmed to Wandsbeck the next year. He was a frequent con- tributor to the " Wandsbeck Messenger." He died in 1818. A collection of his works, completed in 1812^ was published under the title of " Asmus omuia sua secum portans, or the Collective Works of the Wands- beck Messenger." A new edition in four volumes was published at Hamburg in 1838. The most prominent characteristic of Claudius, as a writer, is a certain simplicity and hearty good-humor. He wrote excellent popular songs, simple ballads, fables, epigrams, tales, and dialogues.] RHINE-WINE. WITH lauiel wreati the glass's vintage mellow, And drink it gaily dry I Through farther Europe, know, my worthy fellow, For such in vain ye '11 try. Nor Hungary nor Poland e'er could boast it; And as for Gallia's vine, Saint Veit, the Ritter, if he choose, may toast it, We, Germans, love the Rhine. Our fatherland we thank for such a blessing, And many more besides; And many more, though little show pos- sessing, Well worth our love and pride. Not everywhere the vine bedecks our border, As well the mountains show, That harbor in their bosoms foul disorder; Not worth their room below. MIGHT AND RIGHT. 321 Thuringia's hills, for instance, are aspiring To rear a juice like wine ; But that is all ; nor mirth nor song inspiring, It breathes not of the vine. And other hills, with buried treasures glow- For wine are far too cold ; Though iron ores and cobalt there are growing, And chance some paltry gold. The Rhine, the Rhine, there grow the gay plantations ! 0, hallowed be the Rhine I Upon his banks are brewed the rich pota- tions Of this consoling wine. Drink to the Rhine! and every coming morrow Be mirth and music thine ! And when we meet a child of care and sorrow, We '11 send him to the Rhine. WINTER. A SONG TO BE SUNG BEHIND THE STOVE. OLD WINTER is the man for me, Stout-hearted, sound, and steady ; Steel nerves and bones of brass hath he ; Come snow, come blow, he 's ready. If ever man was well, 't is he ; He keeps no fire in his chamber, And yet from cold and cough is free In bitterest December. He dresses him out-doors at morn, Nor needs he first to warm him ; Toothache and rheumatis' he '11 scorn, And colic don't alarm him. In summer, when the woodland rings, He asks, " What mean these noises? '' Warm sounds he hates, and all warm things Most heartily despises. But when the fox's bark is loud ; When the bright hearth is snapping ; When children round the chimney crowd, All shivering and clapping ; VOL. II. W. H. When stone and bone with frost do break, And pond and lake are cracking, Then you may see his old sides shake, Such glee his frame is racking. Near the north pole, upon the strand, He has an icy tower ; Likewise in lovely Switzerland He keeps a summer bower. So up and down, now here, now there,"- His regiments manoeuvre; When he goes by, we stand and stare, And cannot choose but shiver. MATT. CLAXJDIU*. THE HEN. WAS once a hen of wit not small (In fact, 't was not amazing), And apt at laying eggs withal, Who, when she 'd done, would screan and bawl, As if the house were blazing. A turkey-cock, of age mature, Felt thereat indignation ; 'T was quite improper, he was sure, He would no more the thing endure ; So, after cogitation, He to the lady straight repaired, And thus his business he declared: '' Madam, pray what 's the matter, That always, when you've laid an egg, You make so great a clatter ? I wish you 'd do the thing in quiet ; Do be advised by me, and try it 1 " " Advised by you ? " the lady cried, And tossed her head with proper pride, " And what do you know, now I pray, Of the fashions of the present day, You creature ignorant and low ? However, if you want to know^ This is the reason why I do it : I lay my egg, and then review it 1 " MATT. CLAUDIU*. MIGHT AND RIGHT. From the German of Pfeffel. A SPARROW caught a big blue bottle Fly, upon a weeping willow ; It buzz'd Phil held him by the throttle, ' Oh, let me go, there's a good fellow' ' No,' says the murderer, ' not at all ; For I am big, and you are small.' 21 322 IN PRAISE OF SLEEP. A sparrow-hawk pounced on the sparrow Enjoying his repast ; at once He plunged his talons in his marrow. ' Oh, let me go ; what's the nonce? ' ' Oh ! ' says the murderer, ' not at all ; For I am'big, and you are small.' An eagle spied the sport; and, lo! Popp'd down to have a bit of dinner. ' Oh, please your majesty, let me go ; Have mercy on a worthless sinner.' ' Pooh 1 ' says the murderer, ' not at all ; For I am big, and you are small.' While yet the king the bones was picking, An archer served him out his gruel ; An arrow in "his gizzard sticking, Made him exclaim, ' dear, how cruel 1 ' 1 Tut,' quoth the archer, ' not at all ; For I am big, and you are small.' The moral is plain, ho ! read it all : But ONE is big, all else is small- A TRAGIC STORY. From the German of Chamisso. THERE lived a sage in days of yore, And he a handsome pig-tail wore, But wonder'd much and sorrow'd more, Because it hung behind him. He mused upon this curious case, And swore he'd change the pig-tail's place, And have it hanging at his face, Not dangling there behind him. Says he, ' The mystery I have found I'll turn me round ! ' he turn'd him round, And stamp'd with rage upon the ground, But still it hung behind him. Then round and round, and out and in, All day, the puzzled sage did spin ; In vain ; it matte r'd not a pin, The pig-tail hung behind him. And right and left and round about, And up and down, and in and out He turn'd, but still the pig-tail stout, Hung steadily behind him. And though his efforts never slack, And though he twist and twirl and tack, Ala I still faithful to his back, The pig-tail hangs behind him. THE DRUNKARD'S CONCEIT. [THE following translation, of the famous German Bong, by Herr v. Muhlor, appeared in Notes and Quart* a few years ago, under the signature of F. C. H. STRAIGHT from the tavern door I am come here ; Old road, how odd to me Thou dost appear 1 Right, and left changing sides, Rising and sunk ; Oh, I can plainly see Road 1 thou art drunk I Oh, what a twisted face Thou hast, O moon ! One eye shut, t'other eye Wide as a spoon. Who could have dreamt of thil ? Shame on thee, shame ! Thou hast been fuddling, Jolly old dame ! Look at the lamps again ; See how they reel ! Nodding and flickering Round as they wheel. Not one among them all Steady can go ; Look at the drunken lamps, All in a row. All in an uproar seem Great things aiwl small ; I am the only one Sober at all ; But there's no safety here For sober men ; So I'll turn back to The tavern again. IN PRAISE OF SLEEP. From the Italian of Passeroni. ' Qia molte cosf, e molte toprn V SOMWO.' How many things have oft been sung or said Concerning Sleep, in poetry and prose ! There's scarce an author worthy to be read But something: on the subject can disclose; While some declare it good, with nodding head, Others its torpid influence oppose; THE SCRIPTURAL PANORAMIST. 323 And thus its good or evil each enhances, As it may chance to suit their different fancies. He who extols its worth, we always find Loves frequent naps, and after-dinner snoozes ; But he who is not drowsily inclined, Old Morpheus, for the vilest god, abuses ; As one who tow'rds the ladye of his mind The honey'd terms of admiration uses, Yet those who do not care a farthing for her, Despise her charms, or mention her with horror. By some, in terms of glowing praise addrest, As rest to wearied mortals sent from heav'n Of all its gracious gifts esteem'd the best A brief oblivion to our sorrows given I Others deny its virtues, and protest Somnus from earth has every virtue driven : One calls him Son of Erebus, another Swears he is nothing better than Death's brother. Some say it keeps us healthy, and again, For sickness 'tis a soothing remedy ; Others declare it stagnates every vein, Making us, like the blood, creep lazily. All this may be, or not ; but I maintain, When I am snoring, that I feel quite free From trouble or annoyance , and I hate A blockhead who disturbs that tranquil state. Sleep can at least a truce to sorrow bring, Altho' it may not conquer miseries, For o'er our couch he spreads his dusky wing, And grief before its mighty power flies ; And, as I somewhere heard a poet sing, ' Beggars and kings sleep soon can equalize ; ' So, when asleep, perchance I am as good As any lord or prince of royal blood ! Nay, I am happier still, for I must own My sleep is not disturb'd by constant fear That others may attack my wife, or throne, Or that the threat'ning Sultan marches near; I am not roused by the shrill trumpet's tone Indeed, no f r.rrling sound disturbs my ear, Unless it be the neighb'ring abbey's chime, With noisy zeal proclaiming matin time. And if in visions phantom shades arise, Invoking midnight terrors what of them ? How oft on soaring wings we range the skies At banquets sit or find some costly gem Discover where a hoarded treasure lies Or wear a monarch's jewell'd diadem? For such adventures we may meet, Raised by sleep's magic-wand, with kind deceit. Moreover, I am wedded to no mate, Thinking my holy slumber she might break ; I am no doctor thief or advocate For they must ever keep both eyes awake. Oh ! when I take a hearty supper, late How sweetly sleep creeps o'er me 1 I be- take My wearied limbs to bed ; and, when once there, Why the dog barks, I neither know nor carel THE SCRIPTURAL PANORAMIST. There was a fellow travelling around with a moral religious show a sort of a scriptural panorama and he hired a wooden-headed old slab to play the piano for him. After the first night's perform- ance, the showman says : " My friend, you seem to know pretty much all the tunes there are, and you worry along first-rate. But then didn't you notice that sometimes last night the piece you happened to be playing was a little rough on the proprieties, so to speak didn't seem to jibe with the general gait of the picture that was passing at the time, as it were was a little foreign to the subject, you know as if you didn't either trump or follow suit, you under- stand?" "Well, no," the fellow said; "he hadn't noticed, but it might be ; he had played along just as it came handy." So they put it up that the simple old dummy was to keep his eye on the pano- rama after that, and as soon as a stun- ning picture was reeled out, he was to fit it to a dot with a piece of music that would help the audience to get the idea of the subject, and warm them up like a camp-meeting revival. That sort of thing would corral their sympathies, the show- man said. $24 THE SCRIPTURAL PANORAMIST. There was a big audience that night mostly middle-aged and old people who belonged to the church and took a strong interest in Bible matters, and the balance were pretty much young bucks and heif- ers they always come out strong on pan- oramas, you know, because it gives them a chance to taste one another's mugs in the dark. Well, the showman began to swell him- self up for his lecture, and the old mud- dobber tackled the piano, and run his fingers up and down once or twice to see that she was all right, and the fellows behind the curtain commenced to grind out the panorama. The showman balanced his weight on his right foot, and propped his hands on his hips, and flung his eye over his shoulder at the scenery, and says: "Ladies and gentlemen, the painting now before you illustrates the beautiful and touching parable of the Prodigal Son. Observe the happy expression just break- ing over the features of the poor suffering youth so worn and weary with his long march ; note also the ecstasy beaming from the uplifted countenance of the aged father, and the joy that sparkles in the eyes of the excited group of youths and maidens, and seems ready to burst in a welcoming chorus from their lips. The lesson, my friends, is as solemn and instructive as the story is tender and beautiful." The mud-dobber was all ready, and the second the speech was finished he struck up : " Oh 1 we'll all get blind drunk When Johnny comes marching home !" Some of the people giggled, and some groaned a little. The showman couldn't say a word. He looked at the piano- sharp ; but he was all lovely and serene he didn't know there was anything out of gear. The panorama moved on, and the show- man drummed up his grit and started in fresh : " Ladies jand gentlemen, the fine pic- ture now unfolding itself to your gaze ex- hibits one of the most notable events in Bible history our Saviour and his dis- ciples upon the Sea of Galilee. How grand, how awe-inspiring are the reflections which the subject invokes! What sublim- ity of 'faith is revealed to us in this lesson from the sacred writings ! The Saviour rebukes the angry waves, and walks se- curely upon the bosom of the deep ! " All around the house they were whis- Eering, " Oh ! how lovely ! how beauti- il ! " and the orchestra let himself out again : " Oh ! a life on the ocean wave, And a home on the rolling deep !" There was a good deal of honest snick- ering turned on this time, and consider- able groaning, and one or two old deacons got up and went out. The showman gritted his teeth and cursed the piano man to himself ; but the fellow sat there like a knot on a log, and seemed to think he was doing first-rate. After things got quiet, the showman thought he would make one more stagger at it, any how, though his confidence was beginning to get mighty shaky. The supes started the panorama to grinding along again, and he says : " Ladies and gentlemen, this exquisite painting illustrates the raising of Lazarus from the dead by our Saviour. The sub- ject has been handled with rare ability by the artist, and such touching sweetness and tenderness of expression has been thrown into it, that I have known pecu- liarly sensitive persons to be even affected to tears by looking at it. Observe the half-confused, half-inquiring look, upon the countenance of the awakening Laza- rus. Observe, also, the attitude and ex- pression of the Saviour, who takes him gently by the sleeve of his shroud with one hand, while he points with the other toward the distant city." Before anybody could get off an opinion in the case, the innocent old ass at the piano struck up : " Come, rise up, William Ri-i-ley, And go along with me ' " It was rough on the audience, All the solemn old flats got up in a huff to go,and everybody else laughed till the windows rattled. The showman went down and grabbed the orchestra, and shook him up, and says : "That lets you out, you know, you chowder-headed old clam ! Go to the doorkeeper and get your money, and cut your stick ! vamose the ranche ! Ladies and gentlemen, circumstances over which I have no control compel me prematurely to dismiss " MASK TWAIN. OUR AMERICAN CHARLES LAMB. 325 OUR AMERICAN CHARLES LAMB. [ME. WILLIAM M. TEAVERS, of New York, resembles Charlei Lamb, not only in a slight hesitancy of speech which adds to his drollery as a raconteur, but also in the quaintness of his humor for which he is justly cele- brated among his acquaintances. Many good stories are told of him, and many droll things attributed to him, of which he may be wholly innocent.] ONE morning, it is said, he walked into his club with an amused smile on his lips and said : " B-b-boys, I'm afraid I t-t-took m-more wine last h-n-night than a ch-ch-church member should t-t-take." " Why so ? " said one of his friends. "Well, you s-s-see, this m-m-morning when I c-came to b-b-breakfast my wife s-s-said ' William Travers what was the m-m-matter with you last n-n-night? You stood beside the b-b-bed for some- time 1-1-looking at me and finally s-s-said Well Is-s-swear you two girls look enough alike to-to-to be sisters.' " A PARROT STORY. MR. TRAVERS, went into a bird-fancier's in Centre street, to buy a parrot. "H-h-have you got a-a-all kinds of b- b-birds ? " asked Mr. T. "Yes, sir, all kinds," said the bird- fancier politely. " I w-w-want to b-buy a p-p-parrot," hesitated Mr. T. " Well, here is a beauty. See what glittering plumage ! " " I-i-is he a g-g-good t-talker ? " stam- mered Travers. " If he can't talk better than you can I'll give him to you," exclaimed the shop- keeper. William bought the parrot. THE RAT STORY. "MR. TRAVERS," says Jay Gould, " once went down to a dog-fancier's in Water street, to buy a rat-terrier. "'Is she a g-g-good ratter?' asked Travers as he poked a little, shivering pup with his cane. '"Yes, sir; splendid! I'll show you how he'll go for a rat,' said the dog- fancier and then he put him in a box with a big rat." " How did it turn out ? " I asked Mr. Gould. " Why, the rat made one dive and laid out the frightened terrier in a second, but Travers turned around, and sez he ' I say, Johnny, w-w-what'll ye t-t-take for ther-r-rat?'" TRAVERS AND CLEWS. HENRY CLEWS, the well-known bald- headed banker, who always prides him- self on being a self-made man, during a recent talk with Mr. Travers had occasion to remark that he was the architect of his own destiny that he was a self-made man. " W-w-what d-did you s-ay, Mr. Clews?" asked Mr. Travers. " I say with pride, Mr. Travers, that I am a self-made man that I made my- self" "Hold, H-henry," interrupted Mr. Travers, as he dropped his cigar, " w- while you were m-m-making yourself, why the devil d-did-didn't you p-put some more hair on the top of y-your h-head ? " TRAVERS ON FISK AND GOULD. ONE day last summer, Colonel Fisk was showing Mr. Travers over the Ply- mouth Rock, the famous Long Branch boat. After showing the rest of the vessel, he pointed to two large portraits of him- self and Mr. Gould, hanging, a little dis- tance apart, at the head of the stairway. "There," says the Colonel,' " what do you think of them?" "They're good, Colonel you hanging on one side and Gould on the other; f-i-r-s-t rate. But, Colonel," continued the wicked Mr. Travers, buried in thought, w-w- where's our Saviour? " Mr. Travers, who is a vestryman in Grace Church, says he knows it was wicked, but he couldn't h:ive helped it if ae'd been on his dying bed. 326 SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER; OR, THE MISTAKES OF A NIGHT. WHATEVER be the relative merits of the two Comedies that Goldsmith has left us and each has its advocates for the superiority there is no douht that " She Stoops to Conquer " is that upon which his character as a dramatic writer most securely rests. It was produced for the first time on the 15th March, 1773, at Covent Garden ; was received with a heartiness of applause that carried everything even the solitary hiss of an envious enemy before it, and secured its triumph a triumph that was nightly renewed till the end of the season. The main incident in the piece, round which all the others revolve, is the mistaking Squire Hard- castle's house for a country inn, an idea suggested by a joke played off on Goldsmith in bis sixteenth year by a wag in Ardagh, who directed him to Squire Fether- stone'e, as the village inn, where the joke was humored and undiscovered till night. The play is full of broad, farciful humor, relieved with some passages of a senti- mental nature ; and, with one or two exceptions, there Is no violation of decorum. Tony Lnmpkin is a charac- ter svi generis ; one that has come to have an individual reality, as well known to us as " Bob Acres " or " Scrub." Old Hardcastle, with all hia old-fashioned whimsicalities, is true to nature overdrawn just enough for stage effect ; and the extravagances of his wife are highly en- tertaining. There is a constant vivacity in the dialogue that amuses, and a frequent recurrence of the ludi- crous, which is irresistibly provocative of laughter, and mak"s us feel the truth of Dr. Johnson's criticism: " I know no comedy, for many years, that has so much exhilarated an audience; that has answered so much the great end of comedy, making an audience merry." DRAMATIS PERSONS. SIR CHARLES MARLOW. YOUNG MARLOW (HIS SON). HARDCASTLE. HASTINGS. TONY LUMPKIN. DlGGORY. MRS. HARDCASTLE. Miss HARDCASTLB. Miss NEVILLE. MAID. Landlord, Servants, &c., &c. ACT I. SCENE I. A scene in an old-fashioned house. Enter MRS. HARDCASTLE and MB. HARDCASTLE. Mrs. Hard. I vow, Mr. Hardcastle, you're very particular. Is there a crea- ture in the whole country, but ourselves, that does not take a trip to town now and then to rub off the rust a little ? There's the two Miss Hoggs, and our neighbor Mrs. Grigsby, go to take a month's polish* ing every winter. Hard. Ay, and bring back vanity and affectation to last them the whole year. I wonder why London cannot keep its own fools at home. In my time, the follies of the town crept slowly among us, but now they travel faster than a stage-coach. Its fopperies come down, not only as inside passengers, but in the very basket. Mrs. Hard. Ay, your times were fine times, indeed ; you have been telling us of them for many a long year. Here we live in an old rumbling mansion, that looks for all the world like an inn, but that we never see company. Our best visitors are old Mrs. Oddfish, the curate's wife, and little Cripplegate, the lame dancing-master ; and all our entertain- ment, your old stories of Prince Eugene and the Duke of Marlborough. I hate such old-fashioned trumpery. Hard. And I love it. I love every- thing that's old : old friends, old times, old manners, old books, old wine ; and, I believe, Dorothy (taking her hand), you'll own I have been pretty fond of an old wife. Mrs. Hard. Lord, Mr. Hardcastle, you're for ever at your Dorothys, and your old wives. You may be a Darby, but I'll be no Joan, I promise you. I'm not so old as you'd make me, by more than one good year. Add twenty to twenty, and make money of that. Hard. Let me see; twenty added to twenty, makes just fifty and seven. Mrs. Hard. It's false, Mr. Hardcastle: I was but twenty when Tony, that I had by Mr. Lumpkin, my first husband, was born ; and he's not come to years of dis- cretion yet. Hard. Nor ever will, I dare answer for him. Ay, you have taught him finely. Mrs. Hard. No matter, Tony Lump- kin has a good fortune. My son is not to live by his learning. I don't think a boy wants much learning to spend fifteen hundred a year. Hard. Learning, quotha ! a mere com- position of tricks and mischief. Mrs. Hard. Humor, my dear ; nothing but humor. Come, Mr. .Hardcastle, you must allow the boy a little humor. Hard. I'd sooner allow him a horse- pond. If burning the footman's shoes, frightening the maids, worrrying the kit- tens be humor, he has it. It wa but SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 327 /esterday he fastened my wig to the back of my chair, and when I went to make a bow, I popt my bald head in Mrs. Frizzle's face. Mrs. Hard. And am I to blame ? The poor boy was always too sickly to do any good. A school would be his death. When he comes to be a little stronger, who knows what a year or two's Latin may do for him ? Hard. Latin for him ! A cat and fiddle. No, no, the ale-house and the stable are the only schools he'll ever go to. Mrs. Hard. Well, we must not snub the poor boy now, for I believe we shan't have him long among us. Anybody that looks in his face may see he's consumptive. Hard. Ay, if growing too fat be one of the symptoms. Mrs. Hard. He coughs sometimes. Hard. Yes, when his liquor goes the wrong way. Mrs. Hard. I'm actually afraid of his lungs. Hard. And truly so am I ; for he some- times whoops like a speaking trumpet. (TONY hallooing behind the scenes) Oh, there he goes a very consumptive figure, truly. Enter TONY, crossing the stage. Mrs. Hard. Tony, where are you going, my charmer? Won't you give papa and me a little of your company, lovee? Tony. I'm in haste, mother ! I cannot stay. Mrs. Hard. You shan't venture out this raw evening, my dear ; you look most shockingly. Tony. I can't stay, I tell you. The Three Pigeons expects me down every moment. There's some fun going forward. Hard. Ay; the ale-house, the old place ; I thought so. Mrs. Hard. A low, paltry set of fellows. Tony. Not so low neither. There's Dick Muggins the excise man, Jack Slang the horse-doctor, little Aminadab that grinds the music-box, and Tom Twist that spins the pewter platter. Mrs. Hard. Pray, my dear, disappoint them for one night at least. Tony. As for disappointing them, I should not so much mind ; but I can't abide to disappoint myself. Mrs. Hard. (Detaining him.} You shan't go. Tony. I will, I tell you. Mrs. Hard. I say you shan't. Tony. We'll see which is the strongest, you or II (Exit, hauling her out.) HARDCASTLE, solus. Hard. Ay, there goes a pair that only spoil each other. But is not the whole age in a combination to drive sense and dis- cretion out of doors ? There's my pretty darling Kate ; the fashions of the times have almost infected her too. By living a year or two in town, she is as fond of gauze, and French frippery, as the best of them. Enter Miss HARDCASTLE. Hard. Blessings on my pretty inno- cence ! Drest out as usual, my Kate. Goodness ! What a quantity of super- fluous silk hast thou got about thee, girl ! I could never teach the fools of this age that the indigent world could be clothed out of the trimmings of the vain. Miss Hard. You know our agreement, sir. You allow me the morning to re- ceive and pay visits, and to dress in my own manner; and in the evening, I put on my housewife's dress to please you. Hard. Well, remember I insist on the terms of our agreement ; and, by the bye, I believe I shall have occasion to try your obedience this very evening. Miss Hard. I protest, sir, I don't com- prehend your meaning. Hard. Then, to be plain with you, Kate, I expect the young gentleman I have chosen to be your husband from town this very day. I have his father'* letter, in which he informs me his son is set out, and that he intends to follow himself shortly after. Miss Hard. Indeed I I wish I had known something of this before. Bless me, how shall I behave ? It's a thousand to one I shan't like him ; our meeting will be so formal, and so like a thing of business that I shall find no room for friendship or esteem. Hard. Depend'upon it, child, I'll never control your choice; but Mr. Marlow, whom I have pitched upon, is the son of my old friend, Sir Charles Marlow, of whom you have heard me talk so often. The young gentleman has been bred a scholar, and is designed for an employ- ment in the service of his country. I am told he's a man of excellent understand* ing. Miss Hard. Is he ? SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. Hard- Very generous. Miss Hard. I believe I shall like him. Hard. Young and brave. Miss Hard. I'm sure I shall like him. Hard. And very handsome. Miss Hard. My dear papa, say no more (kissing his hand); he's mine, I'll have him! Hard. And to crown all, Kate, he's one of the most bashful and reserved young fellows in the world. Miss Hard. Eh ! you have frozen me to death again. That word reserved has undone all the rest of his accomplish- ments. A reserved lover, it is said, al- ways makes a suspicious husband. Hard. On the contrary, modesty sel- dom resides in a breast that is not en- riched with nobler virtues. It was the very feature in his character that first struck me. Miss Hard. He must have more strik- ing features to catch me, I promise you. However, if he be so young, so handsome, and so everything, as you mention, I be- lieve he'll do still. I think I'll have him. Hard. Ay, Kate, but there is still an obstacle. It's more than an even wager, he may not have you. Miss Hard. My dear papa, why will you mortify one so ? Well, if he refuses, instead of breaking my heart at his indif- ference, I'll only break my glass for its flattery, set my cap to some newer fash- ion, and look out for some less difficult admirer. Hard. Bravely resolved ! In the mean- time I'll go prepare the servants for his reception ; as we seldom see company, they want as much training as a company of recruits the first day's muster. (Exit.) Miss HARDCASTLE, sola. Miss Hard. This news of papa's puts me all in a flutter. Young handsome ; these he puts last ; but I put them fore- most. Sensible good-natured : I like all that. But then reserved, and sheepish : that's much against him. Yet, can't he be cured of his timidity, by being taught to be proud of his wife ? Yes ; and can't I But, I vow, I'm disposing of the hus- band, before I have secured the lover. Efater Miss NEVILLE. Miss Hard. I'm glad you're come, Neville, my dear. Tell me, Constance : how do I look this evening ? Is there anything whimsical about me ? Is it one of my well-looking days, child? Am I in face to-day? Miss Nev. Perfectly, my dear. Yet, now I look again bless me ! sure no ac- cident has happened among the canary birds, or the gold fishes. Has your brother or the cat been meddling? Or, has the last novel been too moving ? Miss Hard. No ; nothing of all this. I have been threatened I can scarce get it out I have .been threatened with a lover. Miss Nev. And his name Miss Hard. Is Marlow. Miss Nev. Indeed! Miss Hard. The son of Sir Charles Marlow. Miss Nev. As I live, the most intimate friend of Mr. Hastings, my admirer. They are never asunder. I believe you must have seen him when we lived in town. Miss Hard. Never. Miss Nev. He's a very singular char- acter, I assure you. Among women of reputation and virtue, he is the modestest man alive ; but his acquaintance give him a very different character among crea- tures of another stamp : you understand me. Miss Hard. An odd character, indeed. I shall never be able to manage him. What shall I do ? Pshaw, think no more of him, but trust to occurrences for suc- cess. But how goes on your own affair, my dear? Has my mother been courting you for my brother Tony, as usual ? Miss Nev. I have just come from one of our agreeable te'te-a-te'tes. She has been saying a hundred tender things, and setting off her pretty monster as the very pink of perfection. Miss Hard. And her partiality is such, that she actually thinks him so. A for- tune like yours is no small temptation. Besides, as she has the sole management of it, I'm not surprised to see her unwill- ing to let it go out of the family. Miss Nev. A fortune like mine, which chiefly consists in jewels, is no mighty temptation. But at any rate, if my dear Hastings be but constant, I make no doubt to be too hard for her at last. How- ever, I let her suppose that I am in love with her son, and she never once dreams that my affections are fixed upon another. Miss Hard. My good brother hold* SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 329 out stoutly. I could almost love him for hating you so. Miss Nev. It is a good-natured crea- ture at bottom, and I'm sure would wish to see me married to anybody but him- self. But my aunt's bell rings for our afternoon walk round the improvements. Allans I Courage is necessary, as our af- fairs are critical. Miss Hard. Would it were bed-time, and all were well. (Exeunt.) SCENE II. An ale-house room. Several shabby Fellows, with punch and to- bacco. TONY at the head of the table, a little higher than the rest : a mallet in his hand. Omnes. Hu rrea, hurrea, hurrea, bravo I 1 Fel. Now, gentlemen, silence for a song. The 'squire is going to knock him- self down for a song. Omnes. Ay, a song, a song ! Tony. Then I'll sing you, gentlemen, a song I made upon this ale-house, the Three Pigeons. SONG. Let schoolmasters puzzle their brain, With grammar, and nonsense, and learning ; Good liquor, I stoutly maintain, Gives genus a better discerning. Let them brag of their heathenish gods, Their Lethes, their Styxes, and Stygians; Their quit, and their qiuzs, and their quods They're all but a parcel of pigeons. Toroddle, toroddle, toroll. When Methodist preachers come down, A preaching that drinking is sinful, I'll wager the rascals a crown, They always preach best with a skin-full. But when you come down with your pence, For a slice of their scurvy religion, I'll leave it to all men of sense, But you, my good friend, are the pigeon. Toroddle, toroddle, toroll. Then come, put the jorum' about, And let us be merry and clever ; Our hearts and our liquors are stout, Here's the Three Jolly Pigeons for ever 1 Let some; cry up woodcock or hare, Tour bustards, your ducks, and your widgeons, But of all the birds in the air, Here's a health to the Three Jolly Pigeons ! Toroddle, toroddle, toroll. Omnes. Bravo ! bravo ! 1 Fel. The 'squire has got spunk in him. 2 Fel. I loves to hear him sing, be- keays he never gives us nothing that's low. 3 Fel. Oh, nothing that's low, I can- not bear it. 4 Fel. The genteel thing is the genteel thing any time. If so be that a gentle- man bees in a concatenation accordingly. 3 Fel. I like the maxum of it, Master Muggins. What though I am obligated to dance a bear ? a man may be a gentle- man for all that. May this be my poison, if my bear ever dances but to the very gen- teelest of tunes; "Water parted," or " The minuet in Ariadne." 2 Fel. What a pity it is the 'squire is not come to his own I It would be well for all the publicans within ten miles round of him. Tony. Ecod, and so it would, Master Slang. I'd then show what it was to keep choice of company. 2 Fel. Oh, he takes after his own father for that. To be sure, old 'squire Lumpkin was the finest gentleman I ever set my eyes on. For winding the straight horn, or beating a thicket for a hare, he never had his fellow. It was a saying in the place, that he kept the best horses and dogs in the whole county. Tony. Ecod, and when I'm of age I'll be my father's son, I promise you ! I have been thinking of Bet Bouncer, and the miller's grey mare to begin with. But come, my boys, drink about and be merry, for you pay no reckoning. Well, Stingo, what's the matter? Enter LANDLORD. Land. There be two gentlemen in a post-chaise at the door. They have lost their way upo' the forest ; and they are talking something about Mr. Hardcastle. Tony. As sure as can be, one of them must be the gentleman that's coming down to court my sister. Do they seem to be Londoners? Land. I believe they may. They look woundily like Frenchmen. Tony. Then desire them to step this way, and I'll set them right in a twinkling. (Exit LANDLORD.) Gentle- men, as they mayn't be good enough com- pany for you, step down for a moment, and I'll be with you in the squeezing of a lemon. (Exeunt mob.} 330 SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. TONY, solus. Tony. Father-in-law has been calling me whelp, and hound, this half year. Now if I pleased, I could be so revenged upon the old gmmbletonian. But then I'm afraid afraid of what ? I shall soon be worth fifteen hundred a year, and let him frighten me out of that if he can. Enter LANDLORD conducting MARLOW and HASTINGS. Marl. What a tedious, uncomfortable day have we had of it ? We were told it was but forty miles across the country, and we have come above three-score. Hast. And all, Marlow, from that un- accountable reserve of yours, that would not let us inquire more frequently on the way. Marl. I own, Hastings, I am unwil- ling to lay myself under an obligation to every one I meet: and often stand the chance of an unmannerly answer. Hast. At present, however, we are not Hkely to receive any answer. Tony. No offence, gentlemen ; but I'm told you have been inquiring for one Mr, Hardcastle, in those parts. Do you know what part of the country you are in ? Hast. Not in the least, sir ; but should thank you for information. Tony. Nor the way you came? Hast . '' No, sir ; but if you can inform us Tony. Why, gentlemen, if you know neither the road you are going, nor where you are, nor the road you came, the first thing I have to inform you is, that you have lost your way. Marl. We wanted no ghost to tell us that. Tony. Pray, gentlemen, may I be so bold as to ask the place from whence you came ? Marl. That's not necessary towards di- recting us where we are to go. Tony. No offence; but question for question is all fair, you know. Pray, gen- ;lemen, is not this same Hardcastle a tross-grained, old-fashioned, whimsical fellow with an ugly face ; a daughter, and pretty son ? Hast. We have not seen the gentle man ; but he has the family you mention. Tony. The daughter, a tall trapesing, trolloping, talkative May-pole. The son, a pretty, well-bred, agreeable youth, that everybody is fond of. Marl. Our information differs in this. The daughter is said to be well-bred and beautiful ; the son an awkward booby, reared up, and spoiled at his mother'a apron-strings. Tony. He-he-hem ! Then, gentlemen, all I have to tell you is, that you won't reach Mr. Hardcastle's house this nighty I believe. Hast. Unfortunate ! Tony. It's a long, dark, boggy, dirty, dangerous way. Stingo, tell the gentle- men the way to Mr. Hardcastle's (wink- ing upon the landlord] ; Mr. Hardcastle'a of Quagmire Marsh ; you understand me. Land. Master Hardcastle's ? Lack-a- daisy, my masters, you're come a deadly deal wrong 1 When you came to the bot- tom of the hill, you should have crossed down Squash Lane. Marl. Cross down Squash Lane ? Land. Then you were to keep straight forward, till you came to four roads. Marl. Come to where four roads meet I Tony. Ay; but you must be sure to take only one of them. Marl. Oh, sir, you're facetious. Tony. Then keeping to the right, you are to go sideways till you come upon Crack-skull Common : there you must look sharp for the track of the wheel, and go forward, till you come to farmer Mur- rain's barn. Coming to the farmer's barn, you are to turn to the right, and then to the left, and then to the right-about again, till you find out the old mill Marl. Zounds, man I we could as soon find out the longitude I Hast. What's to be done, Marlow ? Marl. This house promises but a poor reception ; though perhaps the landlord can accommodate us. Land. Alack ! master, we have but one spare bed in the whole house. Tony. And, to my knowledge, that's taken up by three lodgers already (After a pause, in which the rest seem disconcerted.) I have hit it. Don't you think, Stingo, our landlady would accommodate the gentlemen by the fire-side, with three chairs and a bolster? Hast. I hate sleeping by the fire-side, Marl. And I detest your three chairs and a bolster. Tony. You do, do you ? Then let me see what if you go on a mile further, to SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 331 the Buck's Head ; the old Buck's Head on the hill, one of the best inns in the whole county ? Hast. Oh, ho ! so we have escaped an adventure for this night, however. Land. (Apart to Tony.} Sure you ben't sending them to your father's as an inn, be you ? Tony. Mum, you fool you ! Let them find that out. (To them.} You have only to keep on straight forward, till you come to a large old house by the roadside. You'll see a pair of large horns over the door. That's the sign. Drive up the yard, and call stoutly about you. Hast. Sir, we are obliged to you. The servants can't miss the way. Tony. No, no. But I tell you, though, the landlord is rich and going to leave off business ; so he wants to be thought a gentleman, saving your presence, he ! he ! he ! He'll be for giving you his company, and ecod, if you mind him, he'll persuade you that his mother was an alderman, and his aunt a justice of peace. Land. A troublesome old blade, to be sure ; but a keeps as good wines and beds as any in the whole country. Marl. Well, if he supplies us with these, we shall want no further connec- tion. We are to turn to the right, did you say? Tony. No, no ; straight forward. I'll just step myself, and show you a piece of the way. (To the landlord}. Mum. Land. Ah, you are a sweet, pleasant mischievous humbug. (Exeunt.} ACT II. SCENE I. An old-fashioned house. Enter HARDCASTLE, folloived by three or four awkward Servants. Hard. Well, I hope you're perfect in the table exercise I have been teaching you these three days. You all know your posts and your places ; and can show that you have been used to good company, without ever stirring from home. Omnes. Ay, ay. Hard. When company comes, you are not to pop out and stare, and then run in again, like frighted rabbits in a warren. Omnes. No, no. Hard. You, Diggory, whom I have taken from the barn, are to make a show at the side-table ; and you, Boger, whom I have advanced from the plough, are to place yourself behind my chair. But you're not to stand so, with your hands in your pockets. Take your hands from your pockets, Roger ; and from your head, you blockhead you. See how Diggory carries his hands. They're a little too stiff, in- deed, but that's no great matter. Digg. Ay ; mind how I hold them. I learned to hold my hands this way, when I was upon drill for the militia. And so being upon drill Hard. You must not be so talkative, Diggory. You must be all attention to the guests. You must hear us talk, and not think of talking ; you must see us drink, and not think of drinking; you must see us eat, and not think of eating. Digg. By the laws, your worship, that's parfectly unpossible. Whenever Diggory sees yeating going forward, ecod, he's al- ways wishing for a mouthful himself. Hard. Blockhead ! is not a belly- full in the kitchen as good as a belly-full in the parlour? Stay your stomach with that reflection. Digg. Ecod, I thank your worship, I'll make a shift to stay my stomach with a slice of cold beef in the pantry. Hard. Diggory, you are too talkative. Then if I happen to say a good thing, or tell a good story at table, you must not all burst out a-laughing, as if you made part of the company. Digg. Then, ecod, your worship must not tell the story of Ould Grouse in the gun-room : I can't help laughing at that he ! he ! he I for the soul of me. We have laughed at that these twenty years ha ! ha ! ha ! Hard. Ha! ha! ha I The story is a good one. Well, honest Diggory, you may laugh at that but still remember to be attentive. Suppose one of the company should call for a glass of wine, how will you behave ? A glass of wine, sir, if you please. ( To DIGGORY) Eh, why don't you move ? Digg. Ecod, your worship, I never have courage till I see the eatables and drinkables brought upon the table, and then I'm as bauld as a lion. Hard. What, will nobody move? 1 Serv. I'm not to leave this place. 2 Serv. I'm sure it's no place of min* 3 Serv. Nor mine, for sartain. 232 SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. Digg. Wauns, and I'm sure, it canna be mine. Hard. You numsculls ! and so while, like your betters, you are quarrelling for places, the guests must be starved. Oh, you dunces ! I find I must begin all over again. But don't I hear a coach drive into the yard ? To your post, you block- heads ! I'll go in the meantime, and give my old friend's son a hearty reception at the gate. (Exit HARDCASTLE.) Digg. By the elevens, my pleace is gone quite out of my head. Roger. I know that my pleace is to be everywhere. 1 Serv. Where is mine ? 2 Serv. My pleace is to be nowhere at all ; and so I'/e go about my business. (Exeunt Servants, running about as if frightened, different ways.) Enter Servant with candles, showing in MARLOW and HASTINGS. Serv. Welcome, gentlemen, very wel- come. This way. Hast. After the disappointments of the day, welcome once more, Charles, to the comforts of a clean room, and a good fire. Upon my word, a very well-looking house ; antique, but creditable. Marl. The usual fate of a large man- sion. Having first ruined the master by good housekeeping, it at last comes to levy contributions as an inn. Hast. As you say, we passengers are to be taxed to pay all these fineries. I have often seen a good side-board, or a marble chimney-piece, though not actually put in the bill, inflame a reckoning confoundedly. Marl. Travellers, George, must pay in all places. The only difference is, that in good inns you pay dearly for luxuries ; in bad inns you are fleeced and starved. Hast. You have lived very much among them. In truth, I have been often surprised, that you, who have seen so much of the world, with your natural good sense, and your many opportunities, could never yet acquire a requisite share of assurance. Marl. The Englishman's malady. But tell me, George, where could I have learned that assurance you talk of? My life has been chiefly spent in a college, or an inn ; in seclusion from that lovely part of the creation that chiefly teach men con- fidence. I don't know that I was ever fa- miliarly acquainted with a single modest woman except my mother. Hast. In the company of women of reputation, I never saw such an idiot, such a trembler : you look, for all the world, as if you wanted an opportunity of stealing out of the room. Marl. Why, man, that's because I do want to steal out of the room ! I have often formed a resolution to break the ice, and rattle away at any rate. But I don't know how, a single glance from a pair of fine eyes has totally overset my resolution. An impudent fellow may counterfeit mod- esty ; but I'll be hanged if a modest man can ever counterfeit impudence. Hast. If you could say but half the fine things to them that I have heard you lav- ish upon the barmaid of an inn. Marl. Why, George, I can't say fine things to them. They freeze, they petrify me. They may talk of a comet, or a burning mountain, or some such baga- telle : but to me, a modest woman, drest out in all her finery, is the most tremen- dous object of the whole creation. Hast. Ha ! ha ! ha I At this rate, man, how can you ever expect to marry ? Marl. Never, unless, as among kings and princes, my bride were to be courted by proxy. If, indeed, like an Eastern bridegroom, one were to be introduced to a wife he never saw before, it might be en- dured. But to go through all the terrors of a formal courtship, together with the episode of aunts, grandmothers and cousins, and at last to blurt out the broad- star question of Madam, will you marry me f No, no ; that's a strain much above me, I assure you. Hast. I pity you. But how do you in- tend behaving to the lady you are come down to visit at the request of your father? Marl. As I behave to all other ladies : bow very low ; answer yes, or no, to all her demands. But for the rest, I don't think I shall venture to look in her face, till I see my father's again. Hast. I am surprised that one who is so warm a friend can be so cool a lover. Marl. To be explicit, my dear Hast- ings, my chief inducement down, was to be instrumental in forwarding your happi- ness, not my own. Miss Seville loves you ; the family don't know you ; as my friend you are sure of a reception, and let honour do the rest. SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 333 Hast. My dear Marlow ! But I'll sup- press the emotion. Were I a wretch, meauly seeking to carry off a fortune, you should be the last man in the world I would apply to for assistance. But Miss Neville's person is all I ask ; and that is mine, both from her deceased father's con- sent, and her own inclination. Marl. Happy man ! You have talents and art to captivate any woman. I am doomed to adore the sex, and yet to con- verse with the only part of it I despise. This stammer in my address, and this awkward prepossessing visage of mine, can never permit me to soar Pshaw ! this fellow here to interrupt us. Enter HARDCASTLE. Hard. Gentlemen, once more you are heartily welcome. Which is Mr. Mar- low ? Sir, you're heartily welcome. It's not my way, you see, to receive my friends with my back to the fire. I like to give them a hearty reception, in the old style, at my gate. I like to see their horses and trunks taken care of. Marl. (Aside.) He has got our names from the servants already. (To him). We approve your caution and hospi- tality, sir. ( To HASTINGS) I have been thinking, George, of changing our travel- ling dresses in the morning. I am grown confoundedly ashamed of mine. Hard. I beg, Mr. Marlow, you'll use no ceremony in this house. Hast. I fancy, Charles, you're right: the first blow is half the battle. I intend opening the campaign with the white and gold. Hard. Mr. Marlow Mr. Hastings gentlemen pray be under no restraint in this house. This is Liberty Hall, gentle- men. You may do just as you please here. Marl. Yet, George, if we open the campaign too fiercely at first, we may want ammunition before it is over. I think to reserve the embroidery to secure a, retreat. Hard. Your talking of a retreat, Mr. Marlow, puts me in mind of the Duke of Marlborough, when he went to besiege Denain. He first summoned the gar- rison Marl. Don't you think the venire d'or waistcoat will do with the plain brown ? Hard. He first summoned the garrison, which might consist of about five thou- sand men Hast. I think not : brown and yellow mix but very poorly. Hard. I say, gentlemen, as I was tell- ing you, he summoned the garrison, which might consist of about five thou- sand men Marl. The girls like finery. Hard. Which might consist of about five thousand men, well appointed with stores, ammunition, and other imple- ments of war. Now, says the duke of Marlborough to George Brooks that stood next to him you must have heard of George Brooks "I'll pawn my duke- dom," says he, " but I'll take that garri- son, without spilling a drop of blood." So Marl. What, my good friend, if you give us a glass of punch in the mean- time ? It would help us to carry on the siege with vigour. Hard. Punch, sir ! (Aside) This is the most unaccountable kind of modesty I ever met with. Marl. Yes, sir, punch. A glass of warm punch, after our journey, will be comfort- able. This is Liberty Hall, you know. Hard. Here's a cup, sir. Marl. (Aside.) So this fellow, in his Liberty Hall, will only let us have just what he pleases. Hard. ( Taking the cup.) I hope you'll find it to your mind. I have prepared it with my own hands, and I believe you'll own the ingredients are tolerable. Will you be so good as to pledge me, sir? Here, Mr. Marlow, here is to our better acquaintance. (Drinks.) Marl. (Aside.) A very impudent fel- low this ! but he's a character, and I'll humor him a little. (To him.) Sir, my service to you. (Drinks.) Hast. (Aside.) I see that this fellow wants to give us his company, and for- gets that he's an innkeeper before he has learned to be a gentleman. Marl. From the excellence of your cup, my old friend, I suppose you have a good deal of business in this part of the country. Warm work, now and then, at elections, I suppose. Hard. No, sir, I have long given that work over. Since our betters have hit upon the expedient of electing each other, there's no business for us that sell ale. 834 SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. Hast- So, then, you have no turn for politics, I find. Hard, Not in the least. There was a time, indeed, I fretted myself about the mistakes of Government, like other peo- ple ; but finding myself every day grow more angry, and the Government grow- ing no better, I left it to mend itself. Since that, I no more trouble my head about Hyder Ally, or Ally Cawn, than about Ally Croker. Sir, my service to you. Hast. So that with eating above stairs, and drinking below ; with receiving your friends within, and amusing them with- out, you lead a good, pleasant, bustling life of it. Hard. I do stir about a great deal, that's certain. Half the differences of the parish are adjusted in this very par- lour. Marl. (After drinking.) And you have an argument in your cup, old gentleman, better than any in Westminster Hall. Hard. Ay, young gentleman, that and a little philosophy. Marl. (Aside.) Well, this is the first time I ever heard of an innkeeper's philosophy ! Hast. So then, like an experienced general, you attack them on every quar- ter. If you find their reason manage- able, you attack it with your philosophy ; if you find they have no reason, you at- tack them with this Here's your health, my philosopher. (Drinks.) Hard. Good, very good, thank you ; ha! ha! Your generalship puts me in mind of Prince Eugene, when he fought the Turks at the battle of Belgrade. You shall hear. Marl. Instead of the battle of Bel- grade, I think it's almost time to talk about supper. What has your philosophy got in the house for supper ? Hard. For supper, sir ! (Aside) Was ever such a request to a man in his own house? Marl. Yes, sir ; supper, sir ; I begin to feel an appetite. I shall make sad work to-night in the larder, I promise you. Hard. (Aside.) Such a brazen dog sure never my eyes beheld. ( To him) Why, really, sir, as for supper, I can't well tell. My Dorothy and the cook-maid settle these things between them. I leave these kind of things entirely to them. Marl. You do, do you ? Hard. Entirely. By-the-bye, I believe they are in actual consultation, upon what's for supper, this moment in the kitchen. Marl. Then I beg they'll admit me as one of their privy council. It's a way I have got. When I travel, I always choose to regulate my own supper. Let the cook be called. No offence, I hope, sir. Hard. Oh, no, sir, none in the least ; yet I don't know how, our Bridget, the cook-maid, is not very communicative upon these occasions. Should we send for her, she might scold us all out of the house. Hast. Let's see the list of the larder, then. I ask it as a favor. I always match my appetite to my bill of fare. Marl. ( To HARDOA.STLE, who looks at them with surprise). Sir, he's very right, and it's my way too. Hard. Sir, you have a right to com- mand here. Here, Roger, bring us the bill of fare for to-night's supper. I believe it's drawn out. Your manner, Mr. Hast- ings, puts me in mind of my uncle, Colo- nel Wallop. It was a saying of his, that no man was sure of his supper till he had eaten it. Hast. (Aside.) All upon the high ropes! His uncle a colonel! we shall soon hear of his mother being a justice of the peace. But let's hear the bill of fare. Marl. (Perusing.) What's here? For the first course; for the second course; for the dessert. Sir, do you think we have brought down the whole joiners' company, or the corporation of Bedford, to eat up such a supper ? Two or three little things, clean and comfortable, will do. Hast. But let's hear it. Marl. (Beading.) For the first course at the top, a pig and prunesauce. Hast. I hate your pig, I say. Marl. And I hate your prunesauce, say I. Hard. And yet, gentlemen, to men that are hungry, pig, with prunesauce, is very good eating. Marl. At the bottom, a call's tongue and brains. Hast. Let your brains be knocked out, my good sir ; I don't like them. Marl. Or you may clap them on a plate by themselves. I do. Hard. (Aside.) Their impudence con- SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 335 founds me. (To them) Gentlemen, you are my guests, make what alterations you please. Is there anything else you wish to retrench or alter, gentlemen ? Marl. Item, a pork pie, a boiled rabbit and sausages, a florentine, a shaking pud- ding, and a dish of tiff taff taffety cream ! Hast. Confound your made dishes ! I shall be as much at a loss in this house as at a green and yellow dinner at the French ambassador's table. I'm for plain eating. Hard. I'm sorry, gentlemen, that I have nothing you like ; but if there be anything you have a particular fancy Marl. Why, sir, your bill of fare is so exquisite, that any one part of it is full as good as another. Send us what you please. So much for supper ; and now to see that our beds are aired and properly taken care of. Hard. I entreat you'll leave all that to me. You shall not stir a step. Marl. Leave that to you. I protest, sir, you must excuse me ; I always look to these things myself. Hard. I must insist, sir, you'll make yourself easy on that head. Marl. You see I'm resolved on it. (Aside) A very troublesome fellow this, as ever I met with. Hard. Well, sir, I'm resolved at least to attend you. (Aside) This may be modern modesty, but I never saw anything look so like old-fashioned impudence. (Exeunt MARL, and HARD.) HASTINGS, solus. Hast. So I find, this fellow's civilities begin to grow troublesome. But who can be angry at these assiduities, which are meant to please him ? Ha ! what do I see ? Miss Neville, by all that's happy ! Enter Miss NEVILLE. Miss Nev. My dear Hastings ! To what unexpected good fortune, to what accident am I to ascribe this happy meeting ? Hast. Rather, let me ask the same question, as I could never have hoped to meet my dear Constance at an inn. Miss Nev. An inn ! sure you mistake ! my aunt, my guardian, lives here. What could induce you to think this house an inn? Hast. My friend, Mr. Marlow, with whom I came down, and I have been sent here as to an inn, I assure you. A young fellow, whom we accidentally met at a house hard by, directed us hither. Miss Nev. Certainly it must be one of my hopeful cousin's tricks, of whom you have heard me talk so often, ha ! ha ! ha I ha! Hast. He whom your aunt intends for you ? He of whom I have such just appre- hensions ? Miss Nev. You have nothing to fear from him, I assure you. You'd adore him, if you knew how heartily he despises me. My aunt knows it too, and has undertaken to court me for him ; and actually begins to think she has made a conquest. Hast. Thou dear dissembler ! You must know, my Constance, I have just seized this happy opportunity of my friend's visit here, to get admittance into the family. The horses that carried us down are now fatigued with their journey ; but they'll soon be refreshed ; and then, if my dear girl will trust in her faithful Hastings, we shall soon be landed in France; where, even among slaves, the laws of marriage are respected. Miss Nev. I have often told you, that though ready to obey you, I yet should leave my little fortune behind with reluc- tance. The greatest part of it was left me by my uncle, the Indian director, and chiefly consists in jewels. I have been for some time persuading my aunt to let me wear them. I fancy I am very near succeeding. The instant they. are put into my possession, you shall find me ready to make them and myself yours. Hast. Perish the baubles ! Your person is all I desire. In the meantime, my friend Marlow must not be let into his mistake ; I know the strange reserve of his temper is such, that if abruptly in- formed of it, he would instantly quit the house, before our plan was ripe for exe- cution. Miss Nev. But how shall we keep him in the deception? Miss Hardcastle is just returned from walking ; what if we still continue to deceive him? This, this way. (They confer.) Enter MARLOW. Marl. The assiduities of these good people tease me beyond bearing. My 836 SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. host seems to think it ill manners to leave me alone, and so he claps not only himself, but his old-fashioned wife on my back. They talk of coming to sup with us too ; and then, I suppose, we are to run the gauntlet through all the rest of the family. What have we got here? Hast. My dear Charles ! Let me con- gratulate you I The most fortunate acci- dent! Who do you think just alighted? Marl. Cannot guess. Hast. Our mistresses, boy, Miss Hard- castle and Miss Neville. Give me leave to introduce Miss Constance Neville to your acquaintance. Happening to dine in the neighbourhood, they called, on their return, to take fresh horses here. Miss Hardcastle has just stept into the next room, and will be back in an in- stant. Wasn't it lucky, eh ? Marl. (Aside.} I have just been mor- tified enough or all conscience, and here comes something to complete my .em- barrassment. Hast. Well, but wasn't it the most for- tunate thing in the world ? Marl. Oh! Yes. Very fortunate a most joyful encounter. But our dresses, George, you know, are in disorder. What if we should postpone the happiness till to-morrow? To-morrow, at her own house ; it will be every bit as convenient, and rather more respectful. To-morrow let it be. ( Offering to go.) Miss Nev. By no means, sir. Your ceremony will displease her. The dis- order of your dress will show the ardour of your impatience ; besides, she knows you are in the house, and will permit you to see her. Marl. Oh! how shall I support it? Hem ! hem ! Hastings you must not go. You are to assist me, you know. I shall be confoundedly ridiculous. Yet hang itl I'll take courage. Hem ! Hast. Pshaw, man ! it's but the first plunge, and all's over. She's but a woman, you know. Marl. And of all women, she that I dread most to encounter. Enter Miss HABDCASTLE, as returning from walking, in a bonnet, &c. Hast. (Introducing him.') Miss Hard, castle Mr. Marlow. I'm proud of bring- ing two persons of such merit together, that only want to know, to esteem each other. Miss Hard. (Aside.} Now, for meet- ing my modest gentleman with a demure face, and quite in his own manner. (After a pause, in which he appears very uneasy and disconcerted.} I'm glad of your safe arrival, sir. I'm told you had some acci- dents by the way. Marl. Only a few, madam. Yes, we had some. Yes, madam, a good many accidents; but should be sorry madam or rather glad of any accidents that are so agreeably concluded. Hem 1 Hast. (To him.} You never spoke bet- ter in your whole life. Keep it up, and I'll ensure you the victory. Miss Hard. I'm afraid you flatter, sir. You, that have seen so much of the finest company, can find little entertainment in an obscure corner of the country. Marl. (Gathering courage.} I have lived, indeed, in the world, madam ; but I have kept very little company. I have been but an observer upon life, madam, while others were enjoying it. Miss Nev. But that, I am told, is the way to enjoy it at last. Hast. (To him.} Cicero never spoke better. Once more, and you are con- firmed in assurance for ever. Marl. (To him.} Hem! Stand by me, then ; and when I'm down, throw in a word or two, to set me up again. Miss Hard. An observer, like you, upon life, were, I fear, disagreeably em- ployed, since you must have had much more to censure than to approve. Marl. Pardon me, madam. I was always willing to be amused. The folly of most people is rather an object of mirth than uneasiness. Hast. (To him.} Bravo, bravo. Never spoke so well in your whole life. Well I ( To Miss HARD.) Miss Hardcastle, I see that you and Mr. Marlow are going to be very good company. I believe our being here will but embarrass the interview. Marl. Not in the least, Mr. Hastings. We like your company of all things. ( To him.} Zounds ! George, sure you won't go how can you leave us ? Hast. Our presence will but spoil con- versation, so we'll retire to the next room. (To him.} You don't consider, man, that we are to manage a little te'te-a-te'te of our own. Miss Hard. (After a pause.} But you have not been wholly an observer, I pre- o SHE STOOPS fO CONQUER. iume, sir : the ladies, I should hope, have employed some part of your addresses. Marl, (Relapsing into timidity.) Par- don me, madam, I I I as yet have studied only to deserve them. Miss Hard. And that, some say, is the very worst way to obtain them. Marl. Perhaps so, madam. But I love to converse only with the more grave and sensible part of the sex. But I'm afraid I grow tiresome. Miss Hard. Not at all sir ; there is noth- ing I like so much as grave conversation myself; I could hear it forever. Indeed, I have often been surprised how a man of sentiment could ever admire those light, airy pleasures, where nothing reaches the heart. Marl. It's a disease of the mind, madam. In the variety of tastes there must be some, who, wanting a relish for um-a-um. Miss Hard. I understand you, sir. There must be some, who, wanting a relish for refined pleasures, pretend to de- spise what they are incapable of tasting. Marl. My meaning, madam, but infi- nitely better expressed. And I can't help observing a Miss Hard. (Aside.) Who could ever suppose this fellow impudent upon some occasions? (To him.) You were going to observe, sir Marl. I was observing, madam I pro- test, madam, I forget what I was going to observe. Miss Hard. (Aside.) I vow, and so do I. (To him.) You were observing, sir, that in this age of hypocrisy something about hypocrisy, sir. Marl. Yes, madam ; in this age of hy- pocrisy there are few who, upon strict in- quiry, do not a a a Miss Hard. I understand you per- fectly, sir. Marl. (Aside.) Indeed 1 and that's more than I do myself. Miss Hard. You mean that, in this hypocritical age, there are few that do not condemn in public what they practise in private, and think they pay every debt to virtue when they praise it. Marl. True, madam ; those who have most virtue in their mouths have least of it in their bosoms. But Pm sure I tire you, madam. Miss Hard. Not in the least, sir ; there's something so agreeable, and spir- VOL. II. W. H. ited in your manner ; such life and force pray, sir, go on. Marl. Yea, madam ; I was saying that there are some occasions when a total want of courage, madam, destroys all the and puts us upon a a a Miss Hard. I agree with you entirely ; a want of courage upon some occasions, assumes the appearance of ignorance, and betrays us when we most want to excel. I beg you'll proceed. Marl. Yes, madam ; morally speaking, madam But I see Miss Neville expecting us in the next room. I would not intrude for the world. Miss Hard. I protest, sir, I was never more agreeably entertained in all my life. Pray go on. Marl. Yes, madam ; I was But she beckons us to join her. Madam, shall I do myself the honor to attend you? Miss Hard. Well, then, I'll follow. Marl. (Aside.) This pretty smooth dia- logue has done for me. (JExit. Miss HARDCASTLE, Sola. Miss Hard. Ha ! ha I ha ! Was there ever such a sober, sentimental interview? I'm certain he scarce looked in my face the whole time. Yet the fellow, but for his unaccountable bashfulness, is pretty well too. He has good sense; but then, so buried in his fears, that it fatigues one more than ignorance. If I could teach him a little confidence, it would be doing somebody, that I know of, a piece of ser- vice. But who is that somebody ? that is a question I can scarce answer. (Exit.) Enter TONY and Miss NEVILLE, followed by MRS. HARDCASTLE and HASTINGS. Tony. What do you follow me for, Cousin Con? I wonder you're not ashamed, to be so very engaging. Miss Nev. I hope, cousin, one may speak to one's own relations, and not be to blame ? Tony. Ay, but I know what sort of a relation you want to make me, though ; but it won't do. I tell you Cousin Con, it won't do, so I beg you'll keep your dis- tance ; I want no nearer relationship. (She follows, coquetting him to the back- scene.) Mrs. Hard. Well! I vow, Mr. Hast- ings, you are very entertaining. There's nothing in the world I love to talk of so 838 SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. much as London, and the fashions, though I was never there myself. Hast. Never there ! You amaze me ! From your air and manner, I concluded you had been bred all your life either at Banelagh, St. James's or Tower Wharf. Mrs. Hard. Oh ! sir, you're only pleased to say so. We country persons can have no manners at all. I'm in love with the town, and that serves to raise me above some of our neighboring rustics ; but who can have a manner, that has never seen the Pantheon, the Grotto Gardens, the Borough, and such places where the no- bility chiefly resort ? All I can do is to enjoy London at second-hand. I take care to know every te'te-a-te'te from the Scanda- lous Magazine, and have all the fashions, as they come out, in a letter from the two Miss Rickets, of Crooked-lane. Pray, how do you like this head, Mr. Hastings ? Hast. Extremely elegant and d&gagte, upon my word, madam. Your friseur is a Frenchman, I suppose ? Mrs. Hard. I protest I dressed it my- self from a print in the Ladies' Memoran- dum Book for the last year. Hast. Indeed ! such a head in a side- box, at the play-house, would draw as many gazers as my Lady Mayoress at a city ball. Mrs. Hard. I vow, since inoculation be- gan there is no such thing to be seen as a plain woman ; so one must dress a little particular, or one may escape in the crowd. Hast. But that can never be your case, madam, in any dress. (Bowing.} Mrs. Hard. Yet what signifies my dress- ing when I have such a piece of anti- quity by my side as Mr. Hardcastle? All I can say will not argue down a single button from his clothes. I have often wanted him to throw off his great flaxen wig, and where he was bald, to plaster it over, like my Lord Pately, with powder. Hast. You are right, madam; for as among the ladies there are none ugly, so among the men there are none old. Mrs. Hard. But what do you think his answer was? Why, with his usual Go- thic vivacity, he said, I only wanted him to throw off his wig, to convert it into a tte for my own wearing. Hast. Intolerable! At your age you may wear what you please, and it must become you. Mrs. Hard. Pray, Mr. Hastings, what do you take to be the most fashionable age about town ? Hast. Some time ago, forty was all the mode ; but I'm told the ladies intend to bring up fifty for the ensuing winter. Mrs. Hard. Seriously ! then I shall be too young for the fashion. Hast. No lady begins now to put on jewels till she's past forty. For instance, Miss there, in a polite circle, would be considered as a child, as a mere maker of samplers. Mrs. Hard. And yet Mrs. Niece thinks herself as much a woman, and is as fond of jewels, as the oldest of us all. Hast. Your niece, is she? and that young gentleman a brother of yours, I should presume? Mrs. Hard. My son, sir. They are con- tracted to each other. Observe their lit- tle sports. They fall in and out ten times a day, as if they were man and wife already. (To them.) Well, Tony, child, what soft things are you saying to your cousin Constance this evening ? Tony. I have been saying no soft things ; but that it's very hard to be fol- lowed about so. Ecod, I've not a place in the house now that's left to myself, but the stable. Mrs. Hard. Never mind him, Con, my dear. He's in another etory behind your back. Miss Nev. There's something generous in my cousin's manner. He falls out before faces to be forgiven in private. Tony. That's a confounded crack. Mrs. Hard. Ah ! he's a sly one. Don't you think they're like each other about the mouth, Mr. Hastings ? The Blenkin- sop mouth to a T. They're of a size, too. Back to back, my pretties, that Mr. Hast- ings may see you. Come, Tony. Tony. You had as good not make me, I tell you. (Measuring.} Miss Nev. Oh I he has almost cracked my head. Mrs. Hard. Oh, the monster! For shame, Tony. You a man, and behave so! Tony. If I'm a man, let me have my fortin. Ecod, I'll not be made a fool of no longer. Mrs. Hard. Is this, ungrateful boy, all that I'm to get for the pains I have taken in your education ? I that have rocked you in your cradle, and fed that pretty mouth with a spoon? Did not I work SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 339 that waistcoat to make you genteel ? Did iiot I prescribe for you every day, and weep wnile the receipt was operating ? Tony. Ecod, you had reason to weep, for you have been dosing me ever since I was born. I have gone through every receipt in the Complete Huswife ten times ov-er ; and you have thoughts of coursing me through Quincy next spring. But, ecod, I tell you, I'll not be made a fool of no longer. Mrs. Hard. Wasn't it all for your good, viper ? Wasn't it all for your good ? Tony. I wish you'd let me and my good alone, then. Snubbing this way, when I'm in spirits. If I'm to have any good, let it come of itself; not to keep dinging it, dinging it into one so. Mrs. Hard. That's false ; I never see you when you are in spirits. No, Tony, you go then to the alehouse, or kennel. I'm never to be delighted with your agreeable wild notes, unfeeling monster ! Tony. Ecod, mamma, your own notes are the wildest of the two. Mrs. Hard. Was ever the like ! But I see he wants to break my heart, I see he does. Hast. Dear madam, permit me to lec- ture the young gentleman a little. I'm certain I can persuade him to his duty. Mrs. Hard. Well ! I must retire. Come, Constance, my love. You see, Mr. Hast- ings, the wretchedness of my situation. Was ever poor woman so plagued with a dear, sweet, pretty, provoking, undutiful boy? (ExeuntM.R8. HARD, and Miss NEVILLE.) HASTINGS. TONY. Tony. (Singing.) There was a young man riding by, And fain would have his will. Raug do didlo dee. Don't mind her. Let her cry. It's the comfort of her heart. I have seen her and sister cry over a book for an hour to- gether; and they said they liked the book the better the more it made them cry. Hast. Then you're no friend to the la- dies, I find, my pretty young gentleman. Tony. That's as I find 'urn. Hast. Not to her of your mother's choosing, I dare answer : and yet she ap- pears to me a pretty, well-tempered girl. Tony. That's because you don't know her as well as I. Ecod, I know every inch about her and there's not a more bitter, cantankerous toad in all Christendom. Hast. (Aside.) Pretty encouragement this for a lover ! Tony. I have seen her since the height of that. She has as many tricks as a hare in a thicket, or a colt the first day's breaking. Hast. To me she appears sensible and silent. Tony. Ay, before company. But when she's with her playmates, she's as loud as a hog in a gate. Hast. But there is a meek modesty about her that charms me. Tony. Yes ; but curb her never so little, she kicks up, and you're flung in a ditch. Hast. Well, but you must allow her a little beauty. Yes, you must allow her some beauty. Tony. Bandbox ! She's all a made up thing, mun. Ah ! could you but see Bet Bouncer, of these parts, you might then talk of beauty. Ecod, she has two eyes as black as sloes, and cheeks as broad and red as a pulpit cushion. She'd make two of she. Hast. Well, what say you to a friend that would take this bitter bargain off your hands? Tony. Anan ! Hast. Would you thank him that would take Miss Neville, and leave you to happiness and your dear Betsy ? Tony. Ay ; but where is there such a friend? for who would take her? Hast. I am he. If you but assist me, I'll engage to whip her off to France, and you shall never hear more of her. Tony. Assist you ! Ecod, I will, to the last drop of my blood. I'll clap a pair of horses to your chaise that shall trundle you off in a twinkling ; and may be, get you a part of her fortin beside, in jewels, that you little dream of. Hast. My dear 'squire, this looks like a lad of spirit. Tony. Come along, then, and you shall see more of my spirit before you hava done with me. (Singing). We are the boys That fear no noise Where the thundering cannons roar. (Exeunt.} 340 SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. ACT HI. SCENE i. Enter HARDCASTLE, solus. Hard. What could my old friend Sir Charles mean, by recommending his son as the modestest young man in town ? To me he appears the mostimpudent piece of brass that ever spoke with a tongue. He has taken possession of the easy-chair by the fireside already. He took off his boots in the parlor, and desired me to see them taken care of. I'm desirous to know how his impudence affects my daughter. She will certainly be shocked at it. Enter Miss HARDCASTLE, plainly dressed. Hard. Well, my Kate, I see you have changed your dress, as I bid you ; and yet, I believe, there was no great occasion. Miss Hard. I find such a pleasure, sir, in obeying your commands, that I take care to obey them without ever debating their propriety. Hard. And yet, Kate, I sometimes give you some cause, particularly when I recommended my modest gentleman to you as a lover to-day. Miss Hard. You taught me to expect something extraordinary, and I find the original exceeds the description. Hard. I was never so surprised in my life ! He has quite confounded all my faculties I Miss Hard. I never saw anything like it : and a man of the world, too ! Hard. Ay, he learned it all abroad. What a fool was I to think a young man could learn modesty by travelling ! He might as soon learn wit at a masquerade. Miss Hard. It seems all natural to him. Hard. A good deal assisted by bad company, and a French dancing-master. Miss Hard. Sure you mistake, papa ! A French dancing-master could never have taught him that timid look that awkward address that bashful manner Hard. Whose look? whose manner, child? Miss Hard. Mr. Marlowe's: his mau- vaise honte, his timidity, struck me at the first sight. Hard. Then your first sight deceived you; for I think him one of the most brazen first-sights that ever astonished my senses. Miss Hard. Sure, sir, you rally ! I never saw any one so modest. Hard. And can you be serious? I never saw such a bouncing, swaggering puppy since I was born ! Bully Dawson was but a fool to him. Miss Hard. Surprising! He met me with a respectful bow, a stammering voice, and a look fixed on the ground. Hard. He met me with a loud voice, a lordly air, and a familiarity that made my blood freeze again. Miss Hard. He treated me with diffi- dence and respect; censured the man- ners of the age ; admired the prudence of girls that never laughed ; tired me with apologies for being tiresome; then left the room with a bow, and "Madam, I would not for the world detain you.'' Hard. He spoke to me as if he knew me all his life before ; asked twenty ques- tions, and never waited for an answer ; interrupted my best remarks with some silly pun ; and when I was in my best story of the Duke of Maryborough and Prince Eugene, he asked me if I had not a good hand at making punch. Yes, Kate, he asked your father if he was a maker of punch. Miss Hard. One of us must certainly be mistaken. Hard. If he be what he has shown himself, I'm determined he shall never have my consent. Miss Hard. And if he be the sullen thing I take him, he shall never have mine. Hard. In one thing then we are agreed to reject him. Miss Hard. Yes. But upon conditions. For if you should find him less impu- dent, and I more presuming ; if you should find him more respectful, and I more importunate I don't know the fellow is well enough for a man. Cer- tainly, we don't meet many such at a horse-race in the country. Hard. If we should find him so but that's impossible. The first appearance has done my business. I'm seldom de- ceived in that. Miss Hard. And yet there may be many good qualities under that first ap- pearance. Hard. Ay, when a girl finds a fellow's outside to her taste, she then sets about uessing the rest of his furniture. With er a smooth face stands for good sense, and a genteel figure for every virtue. Miss Hard. I hope, sir, a conversation SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 341 begun with a compliment to my good sense, won't end with a sneer at my un- derstanding. Hard. Pardon me, Kate. But if young Mr. Brazen can find the art of reconcil- ing contradictions, he may please us both, perhaps. Miss Hard. And as one of us must be mistaken, what if we go to make further discoveries ? Hard. But depend on't, I'm in the right. Miss Hard. And depend on't, I'm not much in the wrong, (Exeunt.) Enter TONY running in with a casket. Tony. Ecod, I have got them! Here they are. My cousin Con's necklaces, bobs, and all. My mother shan't cheat the poor souls out of their fortin, neither. Oh ! my genus, is that you? Enter HASTINGS. Hast. My dear friend, how have you managed with your mother? I hope you have amused her with pretending love for your cousin ; and that you are willing to be reconciled at last. Our horses will be refreshed in a short time, and we shall soon be ready to set off. Tony. And here's something to bear your charges by the way (giving the casket) your sweetheart's jewels. Keep them ; and hang those, I say, that would rob you of one of them. Hast. But how have you procured them from your mother? Tony. Ask me no questions, and I'll tell you no fibs. I procured them by the rule of thumb. If I had not a key to every drawer in mother's bureau, how could I go to the alehouse so often as I do ? An honest man may rob of himself his own at any time. Hast. Thousands do it every day. But to be plain with you, Miss Neville is en- deavouring to procure them from her aunt this very instant. If she succeeds, it will be the most delicate way at least of obtaining them. Tony. Well, keep them, till you know how it will be. I know how it will be, well enough ; she'd as soon part with the only sound tooth in her head. Hast. But I dread the effects of her re- sentment, when she finds she has lost them. Tony. Never you mind her resentment, leave me to manage that. I don't value her resentment the bounce of a cracker. Zounds ! here they are. Morrice ! Prance I (Exit HASTINGS.) TONY, MRS. HARDCASTLE, Miss NEVILLE Mrs. Hard. Indeed, Constance, you amaze me. Such a girl as you want jewels ! It will be time enough for jew- els, my dear, twenty years hence ; when your beauty begins to want repairs. Miss Nev. But what will repair beauty at forty, will certainly improve it at twenty, madam. Mrs. Hard. Yours, my dear, can admit of none. That natural blush is beyond a thousand ornaments. Besides, child, jew- els are quite out at present. Don't you see half the ladies of our acquaintance, my Lady Kill-Daylight, and Mrs. Crump, and the rest of them, carry their jewels to town, and bring nothing but paste and marcasites back? Miss Nev. But who knows, madam, but somebody that shall be nameless would like me best with all my little finery about me ? Mrs. Hard. Consult your glass, my dear, and then see if, with such a pair of eyes, you want any better sparklers. What do you think, Tony, my dear? does your cousin Con want any jewels, in your eyes, to set off her beauty? Tony. That's as thereafter may be. Miss Nev. My dear aunt, if you knew how it would oblige me. Mrs. Hard. A parcel of old-fashioned rose and table-cut things. They would make you look like the court of King Solomon at a puppet-show. Besides, I believe I can't readily come at them. Theymay be missing, for aught I know to the contrary. Tony. (Apart to MRS. HARDCASTLE.) Then why don't you tell her so at once, as she's so longing for them? Tell her they're lost. It's the only way to quiet her. Say they're lost, and call me to bear witness. Mrs. Hard. (Apart to TONY.) You know, my dear, I'm only keeping them for you. So, if I say they're gone, you'll bear me witness, will you ? He ! he ! he ! Tony. Never fear me. Ecod, I'll say I saw them taken out with my own eyes. Miss Nev. I desire them but for a day, madam. Just to be permitted to show them as relics, and then they may be locked up again. 342 SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. Mrs. Hard. To be plain with you, my dear Constance, if I could find them, you should have them. They're missing, I assure you. Lost, for aught I know ; but we must have patience, wherever they are. Miss Nev. I'll not believe it ; this is but a shallow pretence to deny me. I know they're too valuable to be so slightly kept, and as you are to answer for the loss Mrs. Hard. Don't be alarmed, Con- stance ; if they be lost, I must restore an equivalent. But my son knows they are missing, and not to be found. Tony. That I can bear witness to. They are missing, and not to be found. I'll take my oath on't. Mrs. Hard. You must learn resigna- tion, my dear; for though we lose our fortune, yet we should not lose our pa- tience. See me. how calm I am. Miss Nev. Ay, people are generally calm at the misfortunes of others. Mrs. Hard. Now, I wonder a girl of your good sense should waste a thought upon such trumpery. We shall soon find them ; and, in the meantime, you shall make use of my garnets, till your jewels be found. Miss Nev. I detest garnets ! Mrs. Hard. The most becoming things in the world, to set off a clear complexion. You have often seen how well they look upon me. You shall have them. (Exit.) Miss Nev. I dislike them of all things. (To TONY.) You shan't stir. Was ever anything so provoking? to mislay my own jewels, and force me to wear her trumpery I Tony. Don't be a fool! If she gives you the garnets, take what you can get. The jewels are your own already. I have stolen them out of her bureau, and she does not know it. Fly to your spark, he'll tell you more of the matter. Leave me to manage her. Miss Nev. My dear cousin ! Tony. Vanish! She's here, and has missed them already. (Exit Miss NE- VILLE.) Zounds! how she fidgets, and spits about like a Catharine-wheel ! Enter MRS. HARDCASTLE. Mrs. Hard. Confusion ! thieves ! rob- bers ! We are cheated, plundered, broken open, undone ! Tony. What's the matter ? what's the matter, mamma? I hope nothing has happened to any of the good family ! Mrs. Hard. We are robbed! My bureau has been broke open, the jewels taken out, and I'm undone. Tony. Oh! is that all? Ha! ha! ha! By the laws, I never saw it better acted in my life. Ecod, I thought you was ruined in earnest ; ha ! ha ! ha ! Mrs. Hard. Why, boy, I am ruined in earnest. My bureau has been broke open, and all taken away. Tony. Stick to that ; ha ! ha ! ha ! stick to that ; I'll bear witness, you know ; call me to bear witness. Mrs. Hard. I tell you, Tony, by all that's precious, the jewels are gone, and I shall be ruined for ever. Tony. Sure, I know they're gone, and I am to say so. Mrs. Hard. My dearest Tony, but hear me. They're gone, I say. Tony. By the laws, mamma, you make me for to laugh; ha! ha! I know who took them well enough ; ha ! ha ! ha ! Mrs. Hard. Was there ever such a blockhead, that can't tell the difference between jest and earnest? I tell you I'm not in jest, booby ! Tony. That's right, that's right. You must be in a bitter passion, and then no- body will suspect either of us. I'll bear witness that they are gone. Mrs. Hard. Was there ever such a cross-grained brute, that won't hear me? Can you bear witness that you're no better than a fool ? Was ever poor woman so beset with fools on one hand, and thieves on the other ? Tony. I can bear witness to that. Mrs. Hard. Bear witness again, you blockhead, you ; and I'll turn you out of the room directly. My poor niece ! what will become of her ? Do you laugh, you unfeeling brute, as if you enjoyed my dis- tress? Tony. I can bear witness to that. Mrs. Hard. Do you insult me, mn- ster? I'll teach you to vex your mother, I will. Tony. I can bear witness to that. (He runs off, she follows him.} Enter Miss HARDCASTLE and Maid. Miss Hard. What an unaccountable creature is that brother of mine, to send them to the house as an inn ; ha ! ha ! I don't wonder at his impudence. Maid. But what is more, madam, the young gentleman, as you passed by in SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 343 your present dress, asked me if you wer the barmaid? He mistook you for th barmaid, madam. Miss Hard. Did he ? Then, as I live I'm resolved to keep up the delusion. Tel me, Pimple, how do you like my presem dress ? Don't you think I look something like Cherry in the " Beaux' Stratagem ? ' Maid. It's the dress, madam, that every lady wears in the country, but when she visits or receives company. Miss Hard- And are you sure he does not remember my face or person ? Maid. Certain of it Miss Hard. I vow, I thought so ; for though we spoke for some time together, yet his fears were such, that he never once looked up during the interview. In- deed, if he had, my bonnet would have kept him from seeing me. Maid. But what do you hope from keep- ing him in his mistake? Miss Hard. In the first place, I shall be seen, and that is no small advantage to a girl who brings her face to market. Then I shall, perhaps, make an acquaint- ance, and that's no small victory gained over one who never addresses any but the wildest of her sex. But my chief aim is to take my gentleman off his guard, and, like an invisible champion of romance, examine the giant's force before I offer to combat. Maid. But are you sure you can act your part, and disguise your voice, so that he may mistake that, as he has already mistaken your person ? Miss Hard. Never fear me. I think I have got the true bar cant. Did your honor call? Attend the Lion there. Pipes and tobacco for the Angel. The Lamb has been outrageous this half hour. Maid. It will do, madam. But he's here. (Exit Maid.) Enter MAELOW. Marl. What a bawling in every part of the house ! I have scarce a moment's repose. If I go to the best room, there I find my host and his story. If I fly to the gallery, there we have my hostess, with her curtsey down to the ground. I have at last got a moment to myself, and now for recollection. ( Walks and muses.) Miss Hard. Did you call, sir? did your honour call ? Marl. (Musing.) As for Miss Hard- castle, she's too grave and sentimental for me. Miss Hard. Did your honour call ? (She still places herself before him, he turning away.) Marl. No, child. (Musing.) Besides, from the glimpse I had of her, I think she squints. Miss Hard. I'm sure, sir, I heard the bell ring. Marl. No, no. (Musing.) I have pleased my father, however, by coming down, and I'll to-morrow please myself by returning. ( Taking out his tablets, and perusing.) Miss Hard. Perhaps the other gentle- man called, sir. Marl. I tell you, no. Miss Hard. I should be glad to know, sir. We have such a parcel of servants. Marl. No, no, I tell you. (Looks full in her face.) Yes, child, I think I did call. I wanted I wanted I vow, child, you are vastly handsome. Miss Hard. Oh ! la, sir, you'll make one ashamed. Marl. Never saw a more sprightly, malicious eye. Yes, yes, my dear, I did call. Have you got any of your a what d'ye call it, in the house ? Miss Hard. No, sir, we have been out of that these ten days. Marl. One may call in this house, I find, to very little purpose. Suppose I should call for a taste, just by way of trial, of the nectar of your lips ; perhaps I might be disappointed in that, too. Miss Hard. Nectar 1 nectar ! that's a liquor there's no call for in these parts. French, I suppose. We keep no French wines here, sir. Marl- Of true English growth, I assure you. Miss Hard. Then it's odd I should not know it. We brew all sorts of wines in this house, and I have lived here these ighteen years. Marl. Eighteen years? Why, one would think, child, you kept the bar be- fore you were born. How old are you ? Miss Hard. Oh, sir, I must not tell my age ! They say women and music should never be dated. Marl. To guess at this distance, you can't be much above forty. (Approaching.) Yet nearer, I don't think so much. (Ap- proaching.) By coming close to some women, they look younger still ; but when we come very close indeed (Attempting to kiss her.) 344 SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. Miss Hard. Pray, sir, keep your dis- tance. One would think you wanted to know one's age as they do horses, by mark of mouth. Marl. I protest, child, you use me ex- tremely ill. If you keep me at this dis- tance, how is it possible you and I can be ever acquainted? Miss Hard. And who wants to be ac- quainted with you? I want no such acquaintance, not I. I'm sure you did not treat Miss Hardcastle, that was here a while ago, in this obstropalous manner. I'll warrant me, before her you looked dashed, and kept bowing to the ground, and talked, for all the world, as if you was before a justice of peace. Marl. (Aside.) Egad! she has hit it, sure enough. (To her.) In awe of her, child ? Ha ! ha I ha ! A mere awkward, squinting thing ; no, no. I find you don't know me. I laughed, and rallied her a little ; but I was unwilling to be too se- vere. No, I could not be too severe. Miss Hard. Oh ! then, sir, you are a favourite, I find, among the ladies. Marl. Yes, my dear, a great favourite. And yet, hang me, I don't see what they find in me to follow. At the ladies' club in town, I'm called their agreeable Rattle. Battle, child, is not my real name, but one I'm known by. My name is Solomons. Mr. Solomons, my dear, at your service. (Offering to salute her.) Miss Hard. Hold, sir ; you were intro- ducing me to your club, not to yourself. And you're so great a favourite there, you say? Marl. Yes, my dear; there's Mrs. Mantrap, Lady Betty Blackleg, the Coun- tess of Sligo, Mrs. Langhorns, old Miss Biddy Buckskin, and your humble servant, keep up the spirit of the place. Miss Hard. Then it's a very merry place, I suppose. Marl. Yes, as merry as cards, suppers, wine, and old women can make us. Miss Hard. And their agreeable Bat- tle ; ha ! ha ! ha 1 Marl. (Aside.) Indeed ! I don't quite like this chit. She looks knowing, me- thinks. (To her) You laugh, child ! Miss Hard. I can't but laugh to think what time they all have for minding their work or their family. Marl. (Aside.) All's well, she don't laugh at me. (To her) Do you ever work, child ? Miss Hard. Ay, sure. There's not a screen or a quilt in the whole house but what can bear witness to that. Marl. Odso! Then you must show me your embroidery. I embroider, and draw patterns myself a little. If you want a judge of your work, you must ap- ply to me. (Seizing her hand.) Miss Hard. Ay, but the colours don't look well by candle-light. You shall see all in the morning. (Struggling.) Marl. And why not now, my angel ? Such beauty fires beyond the power of resistance. Pshaw ! the father here ! My old luck ! I never nicked seven, that I did not throw ames-ace three times fol- lowing. (Exit MARLOW.) Enter HARDCASTLE, who stands in sur- prise. Hard. So, madam ! So I find this is your modest lover ! This is your humble admirer, that kept his eyes fixed on the ground, and only adored at humble dis- tance. Kate, Kate! art thou not ashamed to deceive your father so ? Miss Hard. Never trust me, dear papa, but he's still the modest man I first took him for ; you'll be convinced of it as well as I. Hard. By the hand of my body, I be- lieve his impudence is infectious ! Didn't I see him seize your hand ? didn't I see him haul you about like a milkmaid? and now you talk of his respect and his modesty, forsooth I Miss Hard. But if I shortly convince you of his modesty ; that he has only the faults that will pass off with time, and the : virtues that will improve with age, I hope you'll forgive him. I Hard. The girl would actually make one run mad; I tell you, I'll not be con- vinced. I am convinced. He has scarce- j ly been three hours in the house, and he has already encroached on all my pre- i rogatives. You may like his impudence, and call it modesty ; but my son-in-law, madam, must have very different qualifi- cations. i Miss Hard. Sir, I ask but this night to convince you. Hard. You shall not have half the time; for I have thoughts of turning him out this very hour. Miss Hard. Give me that hour, then, and I hope to satisfy you. Hard. Well, an hour let it be, then. SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 345 But I'll have no trifling with your father. All fair and open, do you mind me? Miss Hard. I hope, sir, you have ever found that I considered your commands as my pride ; for your kindness is such that my duty as yet has been inclination. (Exeunt.} ACT IV. SCENE 1. Enter HASTINGS and Miss NEVILLE. Hast. You surprise me! Sir Charles Marlow expected here this night? Where have you had your information ? Miss Nev. You may depend upon it. I just saw his letter to Mr. Hardcastle, in which he tells him he intends setting out a few hours after his son. Hast. Then, my Constance, all must be completed before he arrives. He knows me ', and should he find me here, would discover my name, and perhaps my de- signs, to the rest of the family. Miss Nev. The jewels, I hope, are safe. Hast. Yes, yes. I have sent them to Marlow, who keeps the keys of our bag- gage. In the meantime, I'll go to pre- pare matters for our elopement. I have had the squire's promise of a fresh pair of horses : and, if I should not see him again, will write him further directions. (Exit.) Miss Nev. Well, success attend you. In the meantime, I'll go amuse my aunt with the old pretence of a violent passion for my cousin. (Exit.) Enter MARLOW, followed by a SERVANT. Marl. I wonder what Hastings could mean by sending me so valuable a thing as a casket to keep for him, when he knows the only place I have is the seat of a post-coach at an inn-door? Have you deposited the casket with the land- lady, as I ordered you ? Have you put it into her own hands ? Serv. Yes, your honour. Marl. She said she'd keep it safe, did she? Serv. Yes, she said she'd keep it safe enough ; she asked me how I came by it, and she said she had a great mind to make me give an account of myself. (Exit Servant.) Marl. Ha ! ha ! ha ! They're safe, how- ever. What an unaccountable set of beings have we got amongst! This little barmaid, though, runs in my head most strangely, and drives out the absurdities of all the rest of the family. She's mine, she must be mine, or I'm greatly mis- taken. Enter HASTINGS. Hast. Bless me ! I quite forgot to tell her that I intended to prepare at the bot- tom of the garden. Marlow here, and in spirits, too ! Marl. Give me joy, George ! Crown me, shadow me with laurels! Well, George, after all, we modest fellows don't want for success among the women. Hast. Some women, you mean. But what success has your honour's modesty been crowned with now, that it grows so insolent upon us ? Marl. Didn't you see the tempting, brisk, lovely little thing that runs about the house, with a bunch of keys to its girdle ? Hast. Well, and what then ? Marl. She's mine, you rogue you. Such fire, such motion, such eyes, such lips but, egad ! she would not let me kiss them, though. Hast. But are you so sure, so very sure of her? Marl. Why, man, she talked of showing me her work above stairs, and I'm to im- prove the pattern. Hast. You have taken care, I hope, of the casket I sent you to lock up ? It's in safety ? Marl. Yes, yes ; it's safe enough. I have taken care of it. But how could you think the seat of a post coach, at an inn- door, a place of safety? Ah! numskull ! I have taken better precautions for you than you did for yourself. I have Hast. What? Marl. I have sent it to the landlady, to keep for you. Hast. To the landlady 1 Marl. The landlady. Hast. You did! Marl. I did. She's to be answerable for its forthcoming, you know. Hast. Yes, she'll bring it forth, with a witness. Marl. Wasn't I right? I believe you'll allow that I acted prudently upon this oc- casion. Hast. (Aside.} He must not see my un- easiness. Marl. You seem a little disconcerted, though, methinks. Sure nothing has happened. 346 SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. Hast. No, nothing. Never was in bet- ter spirits in all my life. And so you left it with the landlady, who, no doubt, very readily undertook the charge ? Marl. Rather too readily. For she not only kept the casket; but, through her great precaution, was going to keep the messenger too. Ha ! ha ! ha ! Hast. He! he! he! They are safe, however. Marl. As a guinea in a miser's purse. Hast. (Aside.) So now all hopes of for- tune are at an end, and we must set off without it. (To him.) Well, Charles, I'll leave you to your meditations on the pretty barmaid; and, he! he! he! may you be as successful for yourself, as you have been for me! (Exit.) Marl. Thank ye, George ! Enter HARDCASTLE. Hard. I no longer know my own house. It's turned all topsy-turvy. His servants have got drunk already. I'll bear it no longer ; and yet, for my respect for his father, I'll be calm. (To him.) Mr. Marlow, your servant. I'm your very humble servant. (Sowing low.) Marl. Sir, your humble servant. (Aside.) What's to be the wonder now ? Hard. I believe, sir, you must be sen- sible, sir, that no man alive ought to be more welcome than your father's son, sir. I hope you think so. Marl. I do, from my soul, sir. I don't want much entreaty. I generally make my father's son welcome wherever he goes. Hard. I believe you do, from my soul, sir. But though I say nothing to your own conduct, that of your servants is in- sufferable. Their manner of drinking is setting a very bad example in this house, I assure you. Marl. I protest, my very good sir, that's no fault of mine. If they don't drink as they ought, they are to blame. I ordered them not to spare the cellar : I did, I as- sure you. (To the side scene.) Here, let one of my servants come up. (To him.) My positive directions were, that as I did not drink myself, they should make up for my deficiencies below. Hard. Then, they had your orders for what they do ! I'm satisfied. Marl. They had, I assure you. You shall hear from one of themselves. Enter Servant, drunk. Marl. You, Jeremy! Come forward, sirrah! What were my orders? Were you not told to drink freely, and call for what you thought fit, for the good of the house ? Hard. (Aside.) I begin to lose my pa- tience. Jeremy. Please your honour, liberty and Fleet Street for ever I Though I'm but a servant, I'm as good as another man. I'll drink for no man before sup- per, sir! Good liquor will sit upon a good supper ; but a good supper will not sit upon (hiccup) upon my conscience, sir. Marl. You see, my old friend, the fel- low is as drunk as he can possibly be. I don't know what you'd have more, unless you'd have the poor fellow soused in a beer-barrel. Hard. Zounds! He'll drive me dis- tracted if I contain myself any longer. (Aside.) Mr. Marlow, sir; I have sub- mitted to your insolence for more than four hours, and I see no likelihood of its coming to an end. I'm now resolved to be master here, sir ; and I desire that you and your drunken pack may leave my house directly. Marl. Leave your house? Sure you jest, my good friend ! What ! when I'm doing what I can to please you ? Hard. I tell you, sir you don't please me ; so I desire you'll leave my house. Marl. Sure you cannot be serious ! At this time o'night, and such a night ! You only mean to banter me. Hard. I tell you, sir, I'm serious ; and, now that my passions are roused, I say this house is mine, sir ; this house is mine, and I command you to leave it directly 1 Marl. Ha ! ha ! ha ! A puddle in a storm. I shan't stir a step, I assure you. (In a serious tone.) This your house, fel- low ! It's my house. This is my house. Mine, while I choose to stay. What right have you to bid me leave this house, sir? I never met with such impudence, never in my whole life before. Hard. Nor I, confound me if ever I did. To come to my house, to call for what he likes, to turn me out of my own chair, to insult the family, to order his servants to get drunk, and then to tell me This house is mine, sir. By all that's im- pudent, it makes me laugh. Ha! hsil Pray, sir (bantering), as you take the house, what think you of taking the rest SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 347 *f the furniture ? There's a pair of silver candlesticks, and there's a fire-screen and here's a pair of brazen-nosed bellows perhaps you may take a fancy to them. Marl. Bring me your bill, sir ; bring me your bill, and let's make no more words about it. Hard. There are a set of prints, too. What think you of the " Eake's Progress " for your owu apartment ? Marl. Bring me your bill, I say ; and I'll leave you and your house directly. Hard. Then there's a mahogany table, that you may see your own face in. Marl. My bill, I say. Hard. I had forgot the great chair, for your own particular slumbers, after a hearty meal. Marl. Zounds! bring me my bill, I say ; and let's hear no more on't. Hard. Young man, young man, from your father's letter to me, I was taught to expect a well-bred, modest man as a vis- itor here ; but now I find him no better than a COXCOMB and a bully. But he will be down here presently, and shall hear more of it. (Exit.} Marl. How's this ? Sure I have not mistaken the house! Everything looks like an inn. The servants cry, Coming. The attendance is awkward ; the barmaid, too, to attend us. But she's here, and will further inform me. Whither so fast, child? A word with yon. Enter MlSS HARDCASTLE. Miss Hard. Let it be short, then. I'm in a hurry. (Aside) I believe he begins to find out his mistake ; but it's too soon quite to undeceive him. Marl. Pray, child, answer me one question. What are you, and what may your business in the house be ? Miss Hard. A relation of the family, sir. Marl. What ! a poor relation ? Miss Hard. Yes, sir ; a poor relation, appointed to keep the keys, and to see that the guests want nothing in my power to give them. Marl. That is, you act as the barmaid of the inn. Miss Hard. Inn! Oh, la! What brought that in your head ? One of the best families in the country keep an inn ! Ha ! ha ! ha ! old Mr. Hardcastle's house an inn ! Marl. Mr. Hardcastle's house ! Is this house Mr. Hardcastle's house, child ? Miss Hard. Ay, sure. Whose else should it be ? Marl. So then all's out, and I have been imposed on. Oh, confound my stupid head ! I shall be laughed at over the whole town. I shall be stuck up in caricatura in all print shops ; the Dullis- simo Maccaroni. To mistake this house, of all others, for an inn ; and my father's old friend for an innkeeper! What a swaggering puppy must he take me for! What a silly puppy do I find myself! There again, may I be hanged, my dear, but I mistook you for the barmaid. Miss Hard. Dear me ! dear me ! I'm sure there's nothing in my behaviour to put me upon a level with one of that stamp. Marl. Nothing, my dear, nothing. But I was in for a list of blunders, and could not help making you a subscriber. My stupidity saw everything the wrong way. I mistook your assiduity for assurance, and your simplicity for allurement. Bui; it's over. This house I no more show my face in. Miss Hard. I hope, sir, I have done nothing to disoblige you. I'm sure I should be sorry to affront any gentleman who has been so polite, and said so many civil things to me. I'm sure I should be sorry (pretending to cry) if he left the family upon my account. I'm sure I should be sorry, people said anything amiss, since I have no fortune but my character. Marl. (Aside.) By Heaven, she weeps. This is the first mark (of tenderness I ever had from a modest woman, and it touches me. (To her.) Excuse me, my lovely girl, you are the only part of the family that I leave with reluctance. But to be plain with you, the difference of our birth, fortune, and education, make an honourable connection impossible; and I can never harbour a thought of bringing ruin upon one whose only fault was being too lovely. Miss Hard. (Aside). Generous man! I now begin to admire him. ( To him.) But I'm sure my family is as good as Mr. Hardcastle's ; and though I'm poor, that's no great misfortune to a contented mind ; and until this moment, I never thought that it was bad to want fortune. Marl. And why now, my pretty simpli- city? Miss Hard. Because it puts me at a dis- 348 SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. tance from one, that if I had a thousand pound, I would give it all to. Marl. (Aside.) This simplicity bewitches me so, that if I stay I'm undone. I must make one bold effort, and leave her. ( To her.) Your partiality in my favour, my dear, touches me most sensibly ; and were I to live for myself alone, I could easily fix my choice. But I owe too much to the opinion of the world, too much to the authority of a father, so that I can scarcely speak it it affects me. Farewell. (Exit.) Miss Hard. I never knew half his merit till now. He shall not go, if I have power or art to detain him. I'll still pre- serve the character in which I stooped to conquer; but will undeceive my papa, who, perhaps, may laugh him out of his resolution. (Exit.} Enter TONY AND Miss NEVILLE. Tony. Ay, you may steal for yourselves the next time. I have done my duty. She has got the jewels again, that's a sure thing ; but she believes it was all a mis- take of the servants. Miss Nev. But, my dear cousin, sure you won't forsake us in this distress. If she in the least suspects that I'm going off, I shall certainly be locked up, or sent to my Aunt Pedigree's, which is ten times worse. Tony. To be sure, aunts of all kinds are bad things ; but what can I do? I have got you a pair of horses that will fly like Whistle-jacket, and I'm sure you can't say but I have courted you nicely before her face. Here she comes ; we must court a bit or two more, for fear she should sus- pect us. ( They retire and seem to fondle. ) Enter MRS. HABDCASTLE. Mrs. Hard. Well, I waa greatly flut- tered, to be sure. But my son tells me it was all a mistake of the servants. I shan't be easy, however, till they are fairly mar- ried, and then let her keep her own for- tune. But what do I see ? Fondling to- gether, as I'm alive. I never saw Tony so sprightly before. Ah ! have I caught you, my pretty doves? What! billing, exchanging stolen glances, and broken murmurs? Ah! Tony. As for murmurs, mother, we grumble a little, now and then, to be sure. But there's no love lost between us. Mrs. Hard. A mere sprinkling, Tony, upon the flame, only to make it burn brighter. Miss Nev. Cousin Tony promises to give us more of his company at home. Indeed, he shan't leave us any more. It won't leave us, cousin Tony, will it? Tony. Oh ! it's a pretty creature. No, I'd sooner leave my horse in a pound, than leave you, when you smile upon one so. Your laugh makes you so be- coming. Miss Nev. Agreeable cousin! Who can help admiring that natural humour, that pleasant, broad, red, thoughtless (patting his cheek], ah! it's a bold face. Mrs. Hard. Pretty innocence ! Tony. I'm sure I always loved cousin Con's hazel eyes, and her pretty long fin- gers, that she twists this way and that, over the haspicolls, like a parcel of bobbins. Mrs. Hard. Ah ! he would charm the bird from the tree. I was never so happy before. My boy takes after his father, poor Mr. Lumpkin, exactly. The jewels, my dear Con, shall be yours incontinently. You shall have them. Isn't he a sweet boy, my dear? You shall be married to- morrow, and we'll put off the rest of his education, like Mr. Drowsy's sermons, to a fitter opportunity. Enter DlGGOEY. have She Digg. Where's the 'squire? I got a letter for your worship. Tony. Give it to my mamma, reads all my letters first. Digg. I had orders to deliver it into your own hands. Tony. Who does it come from T Digg. Your worship mun ask that o' the letter itself. Tony. I could wish to know, though. (Turning the letter and gazing on it.) Miss Nev. (Aside.) Undone, undone ! A letter to him from Hastings. I know the hand. If my aunt sees it, we are ruined for ever. I'll keep her employed a little, if I can. (To MRS. HARDCAS- TLE. ) But I have not told you, madam, of my cousin's smart answer just now to Mr. Marlow. We so laughed. Yon must know, madam this way a little ; for he must not hear us. ( They confer). Tony. (Still gazing.) A cramp piece of penmanship, as ever I saw in my life. I can read your print-hand very well. But here there are such han- SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 349 Ales, and shanks, and dashes, that one can scarce tell the head from the tail. "To Anthony Lumpkin, Esq.'' It's very odd, I can read the outside of my letters, where my own name is, well enough. But when I come to open it, it is all buzz. That's hard, very hard; for the inside of the letter is always the cream of the correspondence. Mrs. Hard. Ha^! ha ! ha ! Very well, very well. And so my son was too hard for the philosopher. Miss Nev. Yes, madam ; but you must hear the rest, madam. A little more this way, or he may hear us. You'll hear how he puzzled him again. Mrs. Hard. He seems strangely puz- zled now himself, methinks. Tony. (Still gazing.} An up and down hand, as if it was disguised in liquor. (Reading.} "Dear Sir." Ay, that's that. Then there's an M, and a T, and a 8; but whether the next be izzard or an R, confound me, I cannot tell. Mrs. Hard. What's that, my dear? Can I give you any assistance? Miss Nev. Pray, aunt, let me read it. Nobody reads a cramp hand better than I. ( Twitching the letter from him. ) Do you know who it is from ? Tony. Can't tell, except from Dick Ginger, the feeder. Miss Nev. Ay, so it is. (Pretending to read.} " Dear 'Squire, Hoping that you're in health, as I am at this present. The gen- tlemen of the Shake-bag club has cut the gentlemen of the Goose-green quite out of feather. The odds um odd battle um long fighting um " Here, here; it's all about cocks and fighting; it's of no consequence ; here, put it up, put it up. ( Thrusting the crumpled letter upon him.} Tony. But I tell you, miss, it's of all the consequence in the world. I would not lose the rest of it for a guinea. Here, mother, do you make it out. Of no conse- quence ! Giving MRS. HARDCASTLE the letter.} Mrs. Hard. How's this? (Reads.} Dear 'Squire, I'm now waiting for Miss Neville, with a post-chaise and pair, at the bottom of the garden, but I find my horses yet unable to perform the journey. I ex- pect you'll assist us with a pair of fresh horses, as you promised. Dispatch is ne- cessary, as the hag (ay, the hag), your mother, will otherwise suspect us. Yours, HASTINGS. Grant me patience! I shall run dis- tracted ! My rage chokes me ! Miss Nev. I hope, madam, you'll sus- pend your resentment for a few moments, and not impute to me any impertinence, or sinister design that belongs to another. Mrs. Hard. ( Curtseying very low.) Fine- spoken madam, you are most miraculous- ly polite and engaging, and quite the very pink of courtesy and circumspection, madam. (Changing her tone.) And you, you great ill-fashioned oaf, with scarce sense enough to keep your mouth shut ! were you, too, joined against me ? But I'll defeat all your plots in a moment. As for you, madam, since you have got a pair of fresh horses ready, it would be cruel to disappoint them. So, if you please, instead of running away with your spark, prepare, this very moment, to run off with me. Your old Aunt Pedi- gree will keep you secure, I'll warrant me. You too, sir, may mount your horse, and guard us upon the way. Here, Thomas, Roger, Diggory, I'll show you that I wish you better than you do your- selves. (Exit). Miss -Nev. So, now I'm completely ruined. Tony. Ay, that's a sure thing. Miss Nev. What better could be ex- pected, from being connected with such a stupid fool, and after all the nods and signs I made him ? Tony. By the laws, miss, it was your own cleverness, and not my stupidity, that did your business. You were so nice, and so busy, with your Shake-bags and Goose-greens, that I thought you could never be making believe. Enter HASTINGS. Hast. So, sir, I find by my servant that you have shown my letter and betrayed us. Was this well done, young gentle- man? Tony. Here's another. Ask miss, there, who betrayed you. Ecod, it was her doing, not mine. Enter MARLOW. Marl. So, I have been finely used here among you. Rendered contemptible, driven into ill manners, despised, insulted, laughed at. Tony. Here's another. We shall have old Bedlam broke loose presently. Miss Nev. And there, sir, is the gentle- 350 SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. man to whom we all owe every obliga- tion. Marl. What can I say to him, a mere boy, an idiot, whose ignorance and age are a protection ? Hast. A poor contemptible booby, that would but disgrace correction. Miss Nev. Yet with cunning and ma- lice enough to make himself merry with all our embarrassments. Hast. An insensible cub I Marl. Eeplete with tricks and mischief. Tony. Bawl but I'll fight you both, one after the other with baskets. Marl. As for him, he's below resent- ment. But your conduct, Mr. Hastings, requires an explanation. You knew of my mistakes, yet would not undeceive me. Hast. Tortured as I am with my own disappointments, is this a time for ex- Elanations ? It is not friendly, Mr. Mar- 3W. Marl. But, sir Miss Nev. Mr. Marlow, we never kept on your mistake, till it was too late to undeceive you. Be pacified. Enter Servant. Serv. My mistress desires you'll get ready immediately, madam. The horses are putting to. Your hat and things are in the next room. We are to go thirty miles before morning. (Exit Servant.) Miss Nev. Well, well ; I'll come pre- sently. Marl. (To HASTINGS.) Was it well done, sir, to assist in rendering me ridi- culous ? To hang me out for the scorn of all my acquaintance? Depend upon it, sir, I shall expect an explanation. Hast. Was it well done, sir, if you're upon that subject, to deliver what I en- trusted to yourself to the care of another, sir? Miss Nev. Mr. Hastings, Mr. Marlow, why will you increase my distress by this groundless dispute ? I implore, I entreat you Enter Servant. Serv. Your cloak, madam. My mis- tress is impatient. Miss Nev. I come. Pray be pacified. If I leave you thus, I shall die with ap- prehension. Enter Servant. Serv. Your fan, muff, and gloves, ma- dam. The horses are waiting. Miss Nev. Oh, Mr. Marlow! if you knew what a scene of constraint and ill- nature lies before me, I'm sure it would convert your resentment into pity. Marl. I'm so distracted with a variety of passions, that I don't know what I do. Forgive me, madam. George, forgive me. You know my hasty temper, and should not exasperate it. Hast. The torture of my situation is my only excuse. Miss Nev. Well, my dear Hastings, if you have that esteem for me that I think, that I am sure you have, your constancy for three years will but increase the hap- piness of our future connection. If Mrs. Hard. ( Within.) Miss Neville. Constance, why, Constance, I say. Miss Nev. I'm coming. Well, con- stancy. Kemember, constancy is the word. (Exit.) Hast. My heart, how can I support this ? To be so near happiness, and such happiness I Marl. ( To TONY.) You see now, young gentleman, the effects of your folly. What might be amusement to you, is here dis- appointment, and even distress. Tony. (From a reverie.) Ecod, I have hit it. It's here. Your hands. Yours and yours, my poor sulky. My boots there, ho ! Meet me two hours hence at the bottom of the garden ; and if you don't find Tony Lumpkin a more good-natured fellow than you thought for, I'll give you leave to take my best horse, and Bet Bouncer into the bargain. Come along. My boots, ho ! ( Exeunt. ) ACT V. SCENE I. Scene continues. Enter HASTINGS and SERVANT. Hast. You saw the old lady and Miss Neville drive off, you say ? Serv. Yes, your honor; they went off in a post-coach, and the young 'squire went on horseback. They're thirty miles off by this time. Hast. Then all my hopes are over. Serv. Yes, sir. Old Sir Charles is arrived. He and the old gentleman of the house have been laughing at Mr. Marlow's mistake this half-hour. They are coming this way. Hast. Then I must not be seen. So now to my fruitless appointment at the bottom of the Garden. This is about the time. (Exit.) SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 351 Enter SIR CHARLES and HARDCASTLE. Hard. Ha! ha! ha I The peremptory tone in which he sent forth his sublime commands ! Sir Charles. And the reserve with which I suppose he treated all your ad- vancea I Hard. And yet he might have seen something in me above a common inn- keeper, too. Sir Charles. Yes, Dick, but he mistook you for an uncommon innkeeper, ha ! ha! ha! Hard. Well, I'm in too good spirits to think of anything but joy. Yes, my dear friend, this union of our families will make our personal friendships hereditary ; and though my daughter's fortune is but small Sir Charles. Why, Dick, will you talk of fortune to me f My son is possessed of more than a competence already, and can want nothing but a good and virtuous girl to share his happiness and increase it. If they like each other, as you say they do Hard. If, man ! I tell you they do like each other. My daughter as good as told me so. Sir Charles. But girls are apt to natter themselves, you know. Hard. I saw him grasp her hand in the warmest manner myself; and here he comes to put you outof your if 8, 1 warrant him. Enter MARLOW. Marl. I come, sir, once more, to ask pardon for my conduct. I can scarce reflect on my insolence without confusion. Hard. Tut, boy, a trifle. You take it too gravely. An hour or two's laughing with my daughter will set all to rights again. She'll never like you the worse for it. Marl. Sir, I shall be always proud of her approbation. Hard. Approbation is but a cold word, Mr. Marlow : if I am not deceived, you have something more than approbation thereabouts. You take me ? Marl. Really, sir, I have not that hap- piness. Hard. Come, boy, I'm an old fellow, and know what's what, as well as you that are younger. I know what has passed between you ; but mum. Marl. Sure, sir, nothing has passed be- tween us, but the most profound respect on my side, and the most distant reserve on hers. You don't think, sir, that my impudence has been passed upon all the rest of the family ? Hard. Impudence! No, I don't say that. Not quite impudence. Though girls like to be played with, and rumpled a little too, sometimes. But she has told no tales, I assure you. Marl. I never gave her the slightest cause. Hard. Well, well, I like modesty in its place well enough. But this is over-act- ing, young gentleman. You may be open. Your father and I will like you the bet- ter for it. Marl. May I die, Bir, if I ever Hard. I tell you, she don't dislike you ; and I am sure you like her Marl. Dear sir I protest sir Hard. I see no reason why you should not be joined as fast as the parson can tie you. Marl. But hear me, sir Hard. Your father approves the match, I admire it, every moment's delay will be doing mischief, so Marl. But why won't you hear me ? By all that's just and true, I never gave Miss Hard castle the slightest mark of my attachment, or even the most distant hint to suspect me of affection. We had but one interview, and that was formal, modest, and uninteresting. Hard. (Aside). Thia fellow's formal, modest impudence is beyond bearing. Sir Charles. And you never grasped her hand, or made any protestations ? Marl. As Heaven is my witness, I came down in obedience to your com- mands. I saw the lady without emotion, and parted without reluctance. I hope you'll exact no further proofs of my duty, nor prevent me from leaving a house in which I suffer so many mortifications. (Exit.) Sir Charles. I'm astonished at the air of sincerity with which he parted. Hard. And I'm astonished at the de- iberate intrepidity of his assurance. Sir Charles. I dare pledge my life and aonour upon his truth. Hard. Here comes my daughter, and [ would stake my happiness upon her veracity. Enter Miss HARDCASTLE. 852 SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. Hard, Kate, come hither, child. An- swer us sincerely, and without reserve: has Mr. Marlow made you any professions of love and affection? Miss Hard. The question is very abrupt, sir. But since you require unreserved sincerity, I think he has. Hard. ( To SIR CHARLES). You see. Sir Charles. And pray, madam, have you and my son had more than one inter- view? Miss Hard. Yes, sir, several. Hard. (To SIR CHARLES.) You see. Sir Charles. But did he profess any at- tachment ? Miss Hard. A lasting one. Sir Charles. Did he talk of love ? Miss Hard. Much, sir. Sir Charles. Amazing ! and all this formally ? Miss Hard. Formally. Hard. Now, my friend, I hope you are satisfied? Sir Charles. And how did he behave, madam ? Miss Hard. As most professed admirers do. Said some civil things of my face; talked much of his want of merit, and the greatness of mine; mentioned his heart; gave a short tragedy speech, and ended with pretended rapture. Sir Charles. Now I'm perfectly con- vinced, indeed. I know his conversation among women to be modest and submis- sive. This forward, canting, ranting man- ner by no means describes him, and I am confident he never sat for the picture. Miss Hard. Then what, sir, if I should convince you to your face of my sincerity? If you and my papa, in about half an hour, will place yourselves behind that screen, you shall hear him declare his passion to me in person. Sir Charles. Agreed. And if I find him what you describe, all my happiness in him must have an end. (Exit.) Miss Hard. And if you don't find him what I describe I fear my happiness must never have a beginning. (Exeunt.) Scene changes to the back of the Garden. Enter HASTINGS. Hast. What an idiot am I, to wait here for a fellow who probably takes a delight in mortifying me ! He never intended to be punctual, and I'll wait no longer. What do I see? It is he, and perhaps with news of my Constance. Enter TONY, booted and spattered. Hast. My honest 'squire 1 I now find you a man of your word. This looks like friendship. Tony. Ay, I'm your friend, and the best friend you have in the world, if you knew but all. This riding by night, by- the-by, is cursedly tiresome. It has shook me worse than the basket of a stage-coach. Hast. But how? Where did you leave your fellow-travellers? Are they in safety ? Are they housed ? Tony. Five-and-twenty miles in two hours and a half is no such bad driving. The poor beasts have smoked for it. Babbit me, but I'd rather ride forty miles after a fox, than ten with such varment. Hast. Well, but where have you left the ladies? I die with impatience. Tony. Left them? Why, where should I leave them; but where I found them ? Hast. This is a riddle. Tony. Riddle me this then. What's that goes round the house, and round the house, and never touches the house ? Hast. I'm still astray. Tony. Why, that's it, mon. I have led them astray. By jingo, there's not a pond or slough within five miles of the place, but they can tell the taste of. Hast. Ha, ha, ha ! I understand : you took them in a round, while they supposed themselves going forward. And so you have at last brought them home again. Tony. You shall hear. I first took them down Feather-bed Lane, where we stuck fast in the mud. I then rattled them crack over the stones of Up-and- down Hill I then introduced them to the gibbet, on Heavy-tree Heath; and from that with a circumbendibus, I fairly lodged them in the horse-pond at the bottom of the garden. Hast. But no accident, I hope. Tony. No, no. Only mother is con- foundedly frightened. She thinks herself forty miles off. She's sick of the journey, and" the cattle can scarce crawl. So, if your own horses be ready, you may whip off with cousin, and I'll be bound that no soul here can budge a foot to follow you. Hast. My dear friend, how can I be grateful ? Tony. Ay, now it's dear friend, noble 'squire. Just now, it was all idiot, cub, and run me through the guts. Confound your way of fighting, I say. After we take a knock in this part of the country, SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 353 we kiss and be friends. But, if you had run me through the guts, then I should be dead, and you might go kiss the hang- man. Hast. The rebuke is just. But I must hasten to relieve Miss Neville; if you keep the old lady employed, I promise to take care of the young one. (Exit HASTINGS.) Tony. Never fear me. Here she comes. Vanish! She's got from the pond, and draggled up to the waist like a mermaid. Enter MRS. HARDCASTLE. Mrs. Hard. Oh, Tony, I'm killed shook battered to death. I shall never survive it. That last jolt, that laid us against the quickset hedge, has done my business. Tony. Alack ! mamma, it was all your own fault. You would be for running away by night, without knowing one inch of the way. Mrs. Hard. I wish we were at home again. I never met so many accidents in so short a journey. Drenched in the mud, overturned in a ditch, stuck fast in a slough, jolted to a jelly, and at last to lose our way ! Whereabouts do you think we are, Tony ? Tony. By my guess we should be upon Crackskull Common, about forty miles from home. Mrs. Hard. Oh, lud! oh, lud! the most notorious spot in all the country. We only want a robbery to make a com- plete night on't. Tony. Don't be afraid, mamma ! don't be afraid. Two of the five that were kept here are hanged, and the other three may not find us. Don't be afraid. Is that a man that's galloping behind us? No; it's only a tree. Don't be afraid. Mrs. Hard. The fright will certainly kill me. Tony. Do you see anything like a black hat moving behind the thicket ? Mr*. Hard. Oh, death ! Tony. No, it's only a cow. Don't be afraid, mamma ; don't be afraid. Mrs. Hard. As I'm alive, Tony, I see a man coming towards us. Ah ! I'm sure on't. If he perceives us, we are undone. Tony. (Aside.) Father-in-law, by all that's unlucky, come to take one of his night walks. ( To her.} Ah ! it's a high- wayman,, with pistols as long as my arm. An ill-looking fellow. VOL. II. W. H. Mrs. Hard. Good heaven! defend usl He approaches. Tony. Do you hide yourself in the thicket, and leave me to manage him. If there be any danger, I'll cough and cry hem ! When I cough, be sure to keep close. (MRS. HARDCASTLE hides behind a tree y in the back scene.} Enter HARDCASTLE. Hard. I'm mistaken, or I heard voices of people in want of help. Oh, Tony, is that you ? I did not expect you so soon back. Are your mother and her charge in safety ? Tony. Very safe, sir, at my Aunt Pedi- gree's. Hem ! Mrs. Hard. (From behind.) Ah, death ! I find there's danger. Hard. Forty miles in three hours ; sure that's too much, my youngster. Tony. Stout horses and willing minda make short journeys, as they say. Hemf Mrs. Hard, (from behind.) Sure he'll do the dear boy no harm I Hard. But I heard a voice here ; 1 shall be glad to know from whence it came. Tony. It was I, sir ; talking to myself, sir. I was saying, forty miles in three hours was very good going hem ! As to be sure, it was hem ! I have got a sort of cold by being out in the air. We'll go in, if you please hem ! Hard. But if you talked to yourself, you did not answer yourself. I am cer- tain I heard two voices, and am resolved (raising his voice) to find the other out. Mrs. Hard, (from behind.) Oh ! he's coming to find me out. Oh ! Tony. What need you go, sir, if I tell you hem 1 I'll lay down my life for the truth hem ! I'll tell you all, sir. (Detaining htm.) Hard. I tell you, I will not be de- tained. I insist on seeing. It's in vain to expect I'll believe you. Mrs. Hard (running forward from & hind.) Oh, lud, he'll murder my poor boy, my darling ! Here good gentleman, whet your rage upon me. Take my money, my life ; but spare that young gentleman, spare my child, if you have any mercy. Hard. My wife I as I'm a Christian From whence can she come, or what does she mean? Mrs. Hard. (Kneeling.) Take com pas- 23 854 SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. sion on us, good Mr. Highwayman. Take our money, our watches, all we have ; but spare our lives. We will never bring you to justice; indeed, we won't, good Mr. Highwayman. Hard. I believe the woman is out of her senses. What I Dorothy, dont't you know me? Mrs. Hard. Mr. Hardcastle, as I'm alive ! My fears blinded me. But who, my dear, could have expected to meet you here, in this frightful place, so far from home. What has brought you to follow us? Hard. Sure, Dorothy, you have not lost your wits ? So far from home, when you are within forty yards of your own door? (To him.) This is one of your old tricks, you graceless rogue you. (To her.} Don't you know the gate, and the mulber- ry-tree? and don't you remember the horse-pond, my dear ? Mrs. Hard. Yes, I shall remember the horse-pond as long as I live: I have caught my death in it. ( To TONY.) And is it to you, you graceless varlet, I owe all this ? I'll teach you to abuse your mother, I will. Tony. Ecod, mother, all the parish says you have spoiled me, and so you may take the fruits on't. Mrs. Hard. I'll spoil you, I will. ( Fol- lows him off the stage. Exit.) Hard. There's morality, however, in his reply. (Exit.) Enter HASTINGS and Miss NEVILLE. Hast. My dear Constance, why will you deliberate thus ? If we delay a moment, all is lost for ever. Pluck up a little re- solution, and we shall soon be out of the reach of her malignity. Miss Nev. I find it impossible. My spirits are so sunk with the agitations I have suffered, that I am unable to face any new danger. Two or three years' patience will at last crown us with hap- piness. Hast. Such tedious delay is worse than inconstancy. Let us fly, my charmer. Let us date our happiness from this very moment. Perish fortune ! Love and con- tent will increase what we possess, beyond a monarch's revenue. Let me prevail. Miss Nev. No, Mr. Hastings ; no. Pru- dence once more comes to my relief, and I will obey its dictates. In the moment of passion, fortune may be despised ; but it ever produces a lasting repentance. I'm resolved to apply to Mr. Hardcastle's com- passion and justice for redress. Hast. But though he had the will, he has not the power to relieve you. Miss Nev. But he has influence, and upon that I am resolved to rely. Hast. I have no hopes. But since you persist, I must reluctantly obey you. (Exeunt.) Scene changes. Enter SIR CHARLES and Miss HARD- CASTLE. Sir Charles. What a situation am I in I If what you say appears, I shall then find a guilty son. If what he says be true, 1 shall then lose one that, of all others, I wished for a daughter. Miss Hard. I am proud of your appro- bation, and to show I merit it, if you place yourselves as I directed, you shall hear his explicit declaration. But he comes. Sir Charles. I'll to your father, and keep him to the appointment. (Exit SIR CHARLES.) Enter MARLOW. Marl. Though prepared for setting out, I come once more to take leave ; nor did I, till this moment, know the pain I feel in the separation. Miss Hard. (In her natural manner.) I believe these sufferings cannot be very great, sir, which you can so easily remove. A day or two longer, perhaps, might les- sen your uneasiness, by showing the little value of what you now think proper to regret. Marl. (Aside.) This girl every moment improves upon me. (To her). It' must not be, madam. I have already trifled too long with my heart. My very pride beging to submit to my passion. The disparity of education and fortune, the anger of a pa- rent, and the contempt of my equals, be- gin to lose their weight, and nothing can restore me to myself but this painful effort or resolution. Miss Hard. Then go, sir. I'll urge nothing more to detain you. Though my family be as good as hers you came down to visit; and my education, I hope, not inferior, what are these advantages, with- out equal affluence ? I must remain con- tented with the slight approbation of im- puted merit ; I must have only the mock- ery of your addresses, while all your seri- ous aims are fixed on fortune. SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 355 Enter HARDCASTLE and SIR CHARLE from behind. Sir Charles. Here behind the screen Hard. Ay, Ay, make no noise. I'] engage my Kate covers him with confu sion at last. Marl. By heaven, madam, fortune wa. ever my smallest consideration. You beauty at first caught my eye ; for wh could see that without emotion? Bu every moment that I converse with you steals in some new grace, heightens the picture, and gives it stronger expression What at first seemed rustic plainness now appears refined simplicity. Wha seemed forward assurance, now strikes me as the result of courageous innocenc and conscious virtue. Sir Charles. What can it mean? He amazes me! Hard. I told you how it would be Hush ! Marl. I am now determined to stay, madam ; and I have too good an opinion of my father's discernment, when "he see; you, to doubt his approbation. Miss Hard. No, Mr. Marlow, I will not, cannot detain you. Do you think I could suffer a connection in which there is the smallest room for repentance ? Do you think I would take the mean advan- tage of a transient passion, to load you with confusion? Do you think I could ever relish that happiness which was ac- quired by lessening yours? Marl. By all that's good, I can have no happiness but what's in your power to grant me. Nor shall I ever feel repen- tance, but in not having seen your merits before. I will stay, even contrary to your wishes ; and though you should persist to shun me, I will make my respectful assi- duities atone for the levity of my past conduct. Miss Hard. Sir, I must entreat you'll desist. As our acquaintance began, so let it end, in indifference. I might have given an hour or two to levity ; but seri- ously, Mr. Marlow, do you think I could ever submit to a connection where / must appear mercenary, and you imprudent? Do vou think I could ever catch at the confident addresses of a secure admirer? Marl. (Kneeling.} Does this look like security ? Does this look like confidence ? No, madam ; every moment that shows me your merit, only serves to increase my diffidence contiuu and confusion. Here let me Sir Charles. I can hold it no longer. Charles, Charles, how hast thou deceived me! Is this your indifference, your unin- teresting conversation ? Hard. Your cold contempt ; your for- mal interview? What have you to say now? Marl. That I'm all amazement ! What can it mean ? Hard. It means, that you can say and unsay things at pleasure. That you can address a lady in private, and deny it in public; that you have one story for us. and another for my daughter. Marl. Daughter! this lady your daughter ! Hard. Yes, sir, my only daughter ; my Kate. Whose else should she be ? Marl. Oh, ! Miss Hard. Yes, sir, that very identical tall, squinting lady you were pleased to take me for. (Curtseying.) She that you addressed as the mild, modest, sentimen- tal man of gravity, and the bold, forward, agreeable Rattle of the ladies' club ; ha ! !ia! ha! Marl. Zounds, there's no bearing this ; .t's worse than death. Miss Hard. In which of your charac- ters, sir, will you give us leave to address you? As the faltering gentleman, with ooks on the ground, that speaks just to >e heard, and hates hypocrisy ; or the oud confident creature, tnat keeps it up with Mrs. Mantrap, and old Miss Biddy Buckskin, till three in the morning? ha 1 la! ha! Marl. Oh, my noisy head ! I never attempted to be impudent yet, that '. was not taken down. I must be gone. Hard. By the hand of my body, but you shall not. I see it was all a mistake, and I am rejoiced to find it. You shall not, sir, I tell you. Won't you forgive lim, Kate ? We'll all forgive you. Take jourage, man. They retire, she tormenting him to the back scene.) Enter MRS. HARDCASTLE. TONY. Mrs. Hard. So, so, they're gone off. *et them go, I care not. Hard. Who gone? Mrs- Hard. My dutiful niece and her entleman, Mr. Hastings, from town, le who came down with our modest isitor~here. Sir Charles. Who, my honest Georga lastings? As worthy a fellow as lives; 356 SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. and the girl could not have made a more prudent choice. Hard. Then by the hand of my body, I'm proud of the connection. Mrs. Hard. Well, if he has taken away the lady, he has not taken her fortune ; that remains in the family, to console us for her loss. Hard. Sure, Dorothy, you would not be so mercenary. Mrs. Hard. Ay, that's my affair, not yours. Hard. But you know, if your son, when of age, refuses to marry his cousin, her whole fortune is then at her own disposal. Mrs. Hard. Ay, but he's not of age, and she has not thought proper to wait for his refusal. Enter HASTINGS and Miss NEVILLE. Mrs. Hard. (Aside.) What! returned so soon ? I begin not to like it. Hast. (To HARDCASTLE.) For my late attempt to fly off with your niece, let my present confusion be my punishment. We are now come back, to appeal from your justice to your humanity. By her father's consent, I first paid her my ad- dresses, and our passions were first founded on duty. Miss Neo. Since his death, I have been obliged to stoop to dissimulation to avoid oppression. In an hour of levity, I was ready even to give up my fortune to se- cure my choice. But I am now recovered from the delusion, and hope, from your tenderness, what is denied me from a nearer connection. Mrs. Hard. Pshaw, pshaw ! this is all but the whining end or a modern novel. Hard. Be it what it will, I'm glad they're come back to reclaim their due. Come hither, Tony, boy. Do you refuse this lady's hand whom I now offer you ? Tony. What signifies my refusing? You know I can't refuse her till I'm of age, father. Hard. While I thought concealing your age, boy, was likely to conduce to your improvement, I concurred with your mother's desire, to keep it secret. But since I find she turns it to a wrong use, I must now declare you have been of age these three months. Tony. Of age ! Am I of age, father ? Hard. Above three months. Tony. Then you'll see the first use I'll make of my liberty (Taking Miss NE- VILLE'S hand) Witness all men by these presents, that I Anthony Lumpkin, Es- quire, of blank place, refuse you, Constan- tia Neville, spinster, of no place at all, for my true and lawful wife. So Constantia Neville may marry whom she pleases, and Tony Lumpkin is his own man again. Sir Gliarles. Oh, brave squire ! Hast. My worthy friend ! Mrs. Hard. My undutiful offspring ! Marl. Joy, my dear George ; I give you joy sincerely. And could I prevail upon my little tyrant here, to be less arbitrary, I should be the happiest man alive, is you would return me the favour. Hast. (To Miss HARDCASTLE.) Come, madam, you are now driven to the very last scene of all your contrivances. I know you like him, I'm sure he loves you, and you must and shall have him. Hard. (Joining their hands.) And I say so too. And Mr. Marlow, if she makes as good a wife as she has a daughter, I don't believe you'll ever repent your bargain. So now to supper. To-morrow we shall gather all the poor of the parish about us ; and the mistakes of the night shall be crowned with a merry morning. So, boy, take her ; and as you have been mistaken in the mistress, my wish is, that you may never be mistaken in the wife. END OP SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. AN AWKWARD COMPLIMENT. The Empress Marie Louise had never been popular in Paris, as Josephine was to the last, nor had she the fine instincts which so especially distinguished the first consort of Napoleon, who was, indeed, his better angel. For example, one day Napoleon, having been provoked by her father, the Emperor of Austria, declared to Marie Louise that he was " an old ganache" (blockhead). Her majesty asked one of her ladies-in-waiting, as she said the Emperor had called her father by that name, the meaning of the word ganache, and the lady, not knowing what to say in reference to the empress's own father, answered that it meant " a venerable old man." Marie Louise be- lieved this ; and afterward, when Cam- baceres came to pay his respects to her, she, wishing to be very complimentary to him, said, " Sir, I have always regarded you as the chief ganache of France." JIMMY BUTLER AND THE OWL. 357 JIMMY BUTLER AND THE OWL. It was in the summer of '46 that ] landed at Hamilton, fresh as a new pratie just dug from the " ould sod," and with a light heart and a heavy bundle I sot of for the township of Buford, tiding a taste of a song, as merry a young fellow as iver took the road. Well, I trudged on anc on, past many a plisint place, pleasin' my- self wid the thought that some day might have a place of my own, wid a world of chickens and ducks and pigs and childer about the door ; and along in the afternoon of the sicond day I got to Buford village. A cousin of me mother's, one Dennis O'Dowd, lived about sivin miles from there, and I wanted to make his place that night, so I inquired the way at the tavern, and was lucky to find a man who was goin' part of the way an' would show me the way to find Dennis. Sure he was very kind indade, an' when I got out of his wagon he pointed me through the wood and tould me to go straight south a mile an' a half, and the first house would be Dennis's. " An' you've no time to lose now," said he, " for the sun is low, and mind you don't get lost in the woods." " Is it lost now," said I, " that I'll be gittin', an' me uncle as great a navigator as iver steered a ship across the thrackless say ! Not a bit of it, though I'm ob- leeged to ye for your kind advice, and thank yez for the ride." An' with that he drove off an' left me alone. I shouldered me bundle bravely, an' whistlin' a bit of tune for company like, I pushed into the bush. Well, I went a long way over bogs, and turn in' round among the bush an' trees till I be- gan to think I must be well nigh to Dennis's. But, bad cess to it ! all of a sudden I came out of the wood at the very identical spot where I started in, which I knew by an ould crotched tree that seem- ed to be standin' on its head and kickin' up its heels to make divarsion of me. By this time it was growin' dark, and as there was no time to lose, I started in a second time, determined to keep straight south this time and no mistake. I got on brave- ly for a while, but och hone ! och hone ! it got so dark I couldn't see the trees, and I bumped me nose and barked me shins, while the miskaties bit me hands and face to a blister; an' after tumblin' and stumblin' around till I was fairly barn- foozled, I sat down on a log, all of a trimble, to think that I was lost intirely, an' that maybe a lion or some other wild craythur would devour me before morn- ing. Just then I heard somebody a long way off say, " Whip poor Will ! " " Bedad," sez I, " I'm glad that it isn't Jamie that's got to take it, though it seems it's more in sorrow than in anger they are doin' it, or why should they say, ' poor Will ? ' an' sure they can't be Injin, haythin, or naygur, for it's plain English they : re afther spakin'. Maybe they might help me out o' this," so I shouted at the top of my voice, " A lost man ! '' Thin I listened. Presently an answer came. "Who? Whoo? Whooo?" " Jamie Butler, the waiver ! " sez I, as loud as I could roar, an' snatchin' up me bundle and stick, I started in the direc- tion of the voice. Whin I thought I had got near the place I stopped and shouted again, " A lost man ! " " Who ! Whoo ! Whooo ! " said a voice right over my head. " Sure," thinks I, " it's a mighty quare place for a man to be at this time of night ; maybe it's some settler scrapin' sugar off a sugar-bush for the children's ! - eakfast in the mornin'. But where's Will and the rest of them?" All this wint through me head like a flash, an' thin I answered his inquiry. " Jamie Butler, the waiver," sez I ; 'and if it wouldn't inconvanience yer lonor, would yez be kind enough to step down and show me the way to the house of Dennis O'Dowd ? " " Who ! Whoo ! Whooo ! " sez he. " Dennis O'Dowd," sez I, civil enough, ' and a dacent man he is, and first cousin me own mother." "Who! Whoo! Whooo!" sez he again. " Me mother ! " sez I, " and as fine a woman as iver peeled a biled pratie wid icr thumb nail, and her maiden name was Molly McFiggin." "Who! Whoo! Whooo!" " Paddy McFiggin ! bad luck to your leaf ould head, Paddy McFiggin, I say lo ye hear that? An' he was the tallest man in all county Tipperary, excipt Jim )oyle, the blacksmith." 868 UNCLE DAN'L AND THE STEAMBOAT. "Who! Whoo! Whooo!" " Jim Doyle, the blacksmith," sez I, "ye good for nothin' blaggard naygur, and if yez don't come down and show me the way this min't, I'll climb up there and break every bone in your skin, ye spalpeen, so sure as me name is Jimmy Butler I " "Who! Whoo! Whooo!" sez he, as impident as ever. I said niver a word, but lavin" down me bundle, and takin' me stick in me teeth, I began to climb the tree. Whin I got among the branches I looked quietly around till I saw a parr of big eyes just forninst me. " Whist," sez I, " and I'll let him have a taste of an Irish stick," and wid that I let drive and lost me balance an' came tumblin' to the ground, nearly breakin' me neck wid the fall. Whin I came to me sinsis I had a very sore head wid a lump on it like a goose egg, and half of me Sunday coat-tail torn off intirely. I spoke to the chap in the tree, but could git niver an answer, at all, at all. Sure, thinks I, he must have gone home to rowl up his head, for by the powers I didn't throw me stick for nothin'. Well, by this time the moon was up and I could see a little, and I deter- mined to make one more effort to reach Dennis's. I wint on cautiously for a while, an' thin I heard a bell. " Sure," sez I, " I'm comin' to a settlement now, for I hear the church bell." I kept on toward the sound till I came to an ould cow wid a bell on. She started to run, but I was too quick for her, and got her by the tail and hung on, thinkin' that maybe she would take me out of the woods. On we wint, like an ould country steeple-chase, till, sure enough, we came out to a clearin' and a house in sight wid a light in it. So, leaving the ould cow puffin' and bio win' in a shed, I went to the house, and as luck would have it, whose should it be but Dennis's. He gave me a raal Irish welcome, and introduced me to his two daughters as purty a pair of girls as iver ye clapped an eye on. But whin I tould him my ad- venture in the woods, and about the fellow who made fun of me, they all laughed and roared, and Dennis said it was an owl. " An ould what? '' sez I. " Why, an owl, a bird," sez he. "Do you tell me now ? " sez I. " Sure it's a quare country and a quare bird." And thin they all laughed again, till at last I laughed myself, that hearty like, and dropped right into a chair between the two purty girls, and the ould chap winked at me and roared again. Dennis is me father-in-law now, and he often yet delights to tell our children about their daddy's adventure wid the owl. UNCLE DAN'L AND THE STEAM- BOAT. Whatever the lagging, dragging journey may have been to the rest of the emi- grants, it was a wonder and delight to the children, a world of enchantment; and they believed it to be peopled with the mysterious dwarfs and giants and goblins that figured in the tales that the negro slaves were in the habit of telling them nightly by the shuddering light of the kitchen fire. At the end of nearly a week of travel, the party went into camp near a shabby village which was caving, house by house, into the hungry Mississippi. The river astonished the children beyond measure. Its mile-breadth of water seemed an ocean to them, in the shadowy twilight, and the vague riband of trees on the fur- ther shore, the verge of a continent which surely none but they had ever seen before. "Uncle Dan'l" (colored) aged forty; his wife, "Aunt Jinny," aged thirty; "Young Miss" Emily Hawkins, "Young Mars" Washington Hawkins and "Young Mars" Clay, the new member of the family, ranged themselves on a log, after supper, and contemplated the marvelous river and discussed it. The moon rose and sailed aloft through a maze of shred- ded cloud-wreaths ; the sombre river just perceptibly brightened under the veiled light; a deep silence pervaded the air, and was emphasized at intervals, rather than broken, by the hooting of an owl, the baying of a dog. or the muffled crash of a caving bank in the distance. The little company assembled on the log were all children (at least in simpli- city and broad and comprehensive igno- rance), and the remarks they made about UNCLE DAN'L AND THE STEAMBOAT. the river were in keeping with their cha- racter ; and so awed were they by the grandeur and the solemnity of the scene before them, and by their belief that the air was filled with invisible spirits, and that the faint zephyrs were caused by their passing wings, that all their talk took to itself a tinge of the supernatural, and their voices were subdued to a low and reverent tone. Suddenly Uncle Dan'l exclaimed : " Chil'en, dah's sumfin a-comin' ! " All crowded close together, and every heart beat faster. Uncle Dan'l pointed down the river with his bony finger. A deep coughing sound troubled the stillness, way toward a wooden cape that jutted into the stream a mile distant. All in an instant a fierce eye of fire shot out from behind the cape and sent a long brilliant pathway quivering athwart the dusky water. The coughing grew louder and louder, the glaring eye grew larger and still larger, glared wilder and still wilder. A huge shape developed itself out of the gloom, and from its tall du- plicate horns dense volumes of smoke, starred and spangled with sparks, poured out and went tumbling away into farther darkness. Nearer and nearer the thing came, till its long sides began to glow with spots of light which mirrored them- selves in the river and attended the mon- ster like a torchlight procession. "What is it? Oh, what is it, Uncle Dan'l?" With deep solemnity the answer came : "It's de Almighty! Git down on yo' knees /" It was not necessary to say it twice. They were all kneeling in a moment. And then, while the mysterious coughing rose stronger and stronger and the threat- ening glare reached farther and wider, the negro's voice lifted up its supplications: " O Lord, we's ben mighty wicked, and we knows dat we 'zerve to go to ze bad place, but good Lord, deah Lord, we ain't ready yit, we ain't ready let dese po' chil'en hab one mo' chance, jes' one mo' chance. Take de ole niggah if you's got to hab somebody. Good Lord, good deah Lord, we don't know whah you's a gwine to, we don't know wl o you's got yo' eye on ; but we knows by de way you's a comin', we knows by de way you's a tiltin' along in yo' chariot o' fiah, dat some po' sinner's a gwine to ketch it. But, good Lord, dese chil'en don't b'long heah, dey's f'm Obedstown, whah dey don't know nuffin, an' yo' knows, yo' own sef, dat dey ain't 'sponsible. An' deah Lord, good Lord, it ain't like yo' mercy, it ain't like yo' pity, it ain't like yo' long-sufferin' lovin'-kindness for to take dis kind o' vantage o' sich little chil'en as dese is when dey's so many ornery grown folks chuck full o' cussedness dat wants roastin' down dah. O Lord, spah de little chil'en, don't tar de little chil'en away f'm dey frens, jes' let 'em off jes' dis once, and take it out de ole niggah. HEAH I is, LORD, HEAH I is! De ole niggah's ready, Lord, de ole " The flaming and churning steamer was right abreast the party, not twenty steps away. The awful thunder of a mud-valve suddenly burst forth, drowning the pray- er, and as suddenly Uncle Dan!l snatched a child under each arm and scoured into the woods with the rest of the pack at his heels. And then, ashamed of himself, he halted in the deep darkness and shouted (but rather feebly) : " Heah I is, Lord, heah I is 1" There was a moment of throbbing sus- pense, and then, to the surprise and com- fort of the party, it was plain that the august presence had gone by, for its dreadful noises were receding. Uncle Dan'l headed a cautious reconnoissance in the direction of the log. Sure enough "the Lord" was just turning a point a short distance up the river, and while they looked, the light winked out, and the coughing diminished by degrees, and presently ceased altogether. "H'wsh! Well, now dey's some folks says dey ain't no 'ficiency in prah. Dis chile would like to know whah we'd a been NOW if it warn't fo dat prah? Dat'sit! Dat'sit!" " Uncle Dan'l, do you reckon it was the prah that saved us ?" "Does I RECKON? Don't I know it! Whah was yo' eyes? Warn't de Lord jes' a comin' chow I chow f chow I an' a~ goin' on tumble an' do de Lord carry on dat way 'dout dey's sumfin don't suit him ? An' warn't he lookin right at dia gang heah, an' warn't he jes' a reachin' for 'em ? An' d'you 'spec he gwine to let 'em off 'dout somebody ast him to do it ? No indeedy !" "Do you reckon he saw us, Uncl Dan'l ?" THE HEIGHT OF THE KIDICULOUS. " De law sakes, chile, didn't I see him a-lookin' at us ?" " Did you feel scared, Uncle Dan'l ?" "No, sah! When a man is 'gaged in prah, he ain't 'fraid o' nuffin dey can't nuffin tetch him." "Well, what did you run for?" " Well, I I Mars Clay ; when a man is under de influence ob de sperit, he do- no what he's 'bout no sah ; dat man do-no what he's 'bout. You mout take an' tah de head off'n dat man an' he wouldn't scasely fine it out. Dah's de Hebrew chil'en dat went frough de fiah ; dey was burnt considable ob coase dey was; but dey didn't know nufim 'bout it heal right up agin ; if dey'd been gals, dey'd missed dey long haah (hair,) maybe, but dey wouldn't felt de burn." " 1 don't know but what they were girls. I think they were." " Now, Mars Clay, you knows better'n that. Sometimes a body can't tell whed der you's a sayin' what you means or whedder you's a sayin what you don't mean, 'case you says 'em bofe de same way." " But how should I know whether they were boys or girls ?" " Goodness sakes, Mars Clay, don't de ood book say? 'Sides, don't it call 'em e .fife-brew chil'en? If dey was gals wouldn't dey be de sAe-brew chil'en? Some people dat kin read don't 'pear to take no notice when dey do read." " Well, Uncle Dan'l, I think that My ! here comes another one up the river ! There can't be two !' " We gone di time we done gone dis time, sho ' ! Dey ain't two, Mars Clay dat's de same one. De Lord kin 'pear eberywhah in a second. Goodness, now de fiah an' de smoke do belch up I Dat mean business, honey. He comin' now like he fo'got eumfin. Come 'long, chil'en, time you's gwine to rocs'. Go 'long wid you Ole Uncle Dan'l gwine out in de woods to rastle in prah de old niggah gwine to do what ne kin to sabe you agin." He did go to the woods and pray ; but he went so far that he doubted, him- self, if the Lord heard him when He wtnt by. THE HEIGHT OF THE RIDICULOUS [Dr. OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES, of Mass., born 1804 Practised as a physician at Boston ; is Professor of \u tomy at Harvard University.] I. I wrote some lines, once on a time, In wondrous merry mood, And thought, as usual, men would say They were exceeding good. II. They were so queer, so very queer, I laughed as I would die ; Albeit, in the general way, A sober man am I. in. I called my servant, and he came ; How kind it was of him To mind a slender man like me He of the mighty limb ! IV. " These to the printer," I exclaimed, And, in my humorous way. I added (as a trifling jest), " There'll be the devil to pay." v. He took the paper, and I watched, And saw him peep within ; At the first line he read, his face Was all upon a grin. VI. He read the next the grin grew broad, And shot from ear to ear ; He read the third ; a chuckling noiae I now began to hear. VII. The tourth, he broke into a roar ; The fifth, his wristband split ; The sixth, he burst five buttons off, And tumbled in a fit Ten days and nights, with sleeplesi ejM, I watched that wretched man ; And since, I never dare to write At funny a I can. HOW MANY FINS HAS A COD? 361 HOW MANY FINS HAS A COD? BY JUDGE T. C. HALIBURTON. About forty years ago I attended the Western Circuit of the Supreme Court of Nova Scotia at Annapolis, and remained behind for a few days for the purpose of examining that most interesting place, which is the scene of the first effective settlement in North America. While engaged in these investigations, a person called upon me and told me he had ridden express from Plymouth to ob- tain my assistance in a cause which was to be tried in a day or two in the county court at that place. The judges were at that period not professional men, but magistrates, and equally unable to ad- minister law or to preserve order ; and the verdicts generally depended more upon the declamatory powers of the lawyers than on the merits of the causes. The distance was great a journey had to be performed on horseback the roads were Dad, the accommodation worse. I had a great repugnance to attend these courts under any circumstances; and, be- sides, had pressing engagements at home. I therefore declined accepting his retainer, which was the largest that at that time had ever been tendered to me, and begged to be excused. If the fee, he said, was too small to render it worth my while to go, he would cheerfully double it, for money was no object. The cause was one of great importance to his friend, Mr. John Barkins, and of deep interest to the whole community ; and, as the few law- yers that resided within a hundred miles of the place were engaged on the other side, if I did not go, his unfortunate friend would fall a victim to the intrigues and injustice of his opponents. In short, he was so urgent that at last I was prevailed upon to consent, and we set off together to prosecute our journey on horseback. The agent, Mr. William Kobins (who had the most accurate and capacious memory of any man I ever met), proved a most entertaining and agreeable companion. He had read a great deal, and retained it all; and, having resided many years near Plymouth, knew every- body, every place and every tradition. Withal he was somewhat of a humorist. Finding him a person of this description, my curiosity was excited to know who he was, and I put the question to him. " I am of the same profession you are, sir," he said. I immediately reined up. " If that be the case," I replied, " my good friend, you must try the cause your- elf. I cannot consent to go on. The only thing that induced me to set out with you was your assertion that every lawyer with- in a hundred miles of Plymouth was re- tained on the other side." " Excuse me, sir," he said, " I did not say I was a lawyer." " No," I observed " you did not ; but you stated that you were of the same profes- sion as myself, which is the same thing." " Not exactly, sir," he said. " I am a wrecker. I am Lloyds' agent, and live on the misfortunes of others ; so do you. When a vessel is wrecked, it is my busi- ness to get her off, or to save the property. When a man is entangled among the shoals or quicksands of the law, your duty is similar. We are both wreckers, and, therefore, members of the same profession. The only difference is, you are a lawyer, and I am not." This absurd reply removing all difficul- ty, we proceeded on our journey ; and the first night, after passing through Digby, reached Shingle Town, or Spaitsville. The next morning we reached Clare, and in the afternoon we arrived at Plymouth. As we entered the village, I observed that the court-house, as usual, was surrounded by a noisy multitude, some detached groups of which appeared to be discussing the trials of the morning, or anticipating that which was to engross the attention of the public on the succeeding day. On the opposite side of the road was a large tavern, the hospitable door of which stood invitingly open, and permitted the escape of most agreeable and seducing odors of rum and tobacco. The crowd occupied and filled the space between the two buildings, and presented a moving and agitated surface ; and yet a strong current was perceptible to a practised eye in this turbid mass, setting steadily out of the court-house, and passing slowly but con- stantly through the centre of the estuary into the tavern, and returning again in an eddy on either side. Where every one was talking at the same time, no individual could be heard or understood at a distance, but the united vociferations of the assembled hundreds 362 HOW MANY FINS HAS A COD? blended together and formed the deep- toned but dissonant voice of that hydra- headed monster, the crowd. On a nearer approach, the sounds that composed this unceasing roar became more distinguish- able. The drunken man might be heard rebuking the profane, and the profane overwhelming the hypocrite with oppro- brium for his cant. Neighbors, rendered amiable by liquor, embraced as brothers, and loudly proclaimed their unchangeable friendship; while the memory of past injuries awakened into fury by the liquid poison, placed others in hostile attitude, who hurled defiance and abuse at each other, to the full extent of their lungs or their vocabulary. The slow, measured, nasal talk of the degenerate settler from Puritanical New England, was rendered unintelligible by the ceaseless and rapid utterance of the French fisherman ; while poor Pat, bludgeon in hand, uproariously solicited his neighbors to fight or to drink, and generously gave them their option. Even the dogs caught the infection of the place, and far above their master's voices might occasionally be heard the loud, sharp cry of triumph, or the more shrill howl of distress uttered by these animals, who, with as little cause as their senseless owners, had engaged in a stupid conflict. These noises ceased for a moment as we arrived at the spot, and were superseded by a command issued by several persona at the same time. " Clear the road there ! Make way for the gentlemen ! " We had been anxiously expected all the afternoon, and the command was in- stantly obeyed, and a passage opened for us by the people falling back on either side of the street. As we passed through, my friend checked his horse into a slow walk, and led me with an air of triumph, such as a jockey displays in bringing out his favorite on the course. Robins was an important man that day. He had suc- ceeded in his mission. He had got his champion, and would be ready for fight in the morning. It was but reasonable, therefore, he thought, to indulge the pub- lic with a glimpse at his man. He nodded familiarly to some, winked slyly to others, saluted people at a distance aloud, and shook hands patronizingly with those that were nearest. He would occasionally lag behind a moment, and say in an under, but very audible, tone: " Precious clever fellow that ! Sees it all says we are all right sure to win it! I wouldn't be in those fellows', the plain- tiffs', skins to-morrow for a trifle ! He is a powerful man that ! " and so forth. The first opportunity that occurred, I endeavored to put a stop to this trumpet- ing. " For heaven's sake,'' I said, " my good friend, do not talk such nonsense ; if you do, you will ruin me. I am at all times a diffident man, but if you raise such ex- pectations, I shall assuredly break down, from the very fear of not fulfilling them. I know too well the doubtful issue of trials ever to say that a man is certain of winning. Pray do not talk of me in this manner." " You are sure, sir," he said. " What! a man who has just landed from his travels in Europe, and arrived, after a journey of one hundred miles, from the last sitting of the Supreme Court, not to know more than any one else ! Fudge, sir 1 I congratulate you you have gained the cause ! And besides, sir, do you think that if William Robins says he has got the right man (and he wouldn't say so if he didn't think so), that that isn't enough? Why, sir, your leather breeches and top boots are enough to do the business ! No- body ever saw such things here before, and a man in buckskin must know more than a man in homespun. But here is Mrs. Brown's inn ; let us dismount. I have procured a private sitting-room for you, which on court-days, militia-training, and times of town meetings or elections, is not very easy, I assure you. Come, walk in, and make yourself comfortable." We had scarcely entered into our snug- gery, which was evidently the landlady's own apartment, when the door was softly opened a few inches, and a beseeching voice was heard, saying : " Billy, is that him ? If it is, tell him it's me, will you? that's a good soul ! " " Come in come in, old Blowhard I " said Robins ; and, seizing the stranger by the hand, he led him up and introduced him to me. "Lawyer, this is Captain John Bar- kins ! Captain Barkins, this is Lawyer Sandford ! He is our client, lawyer, and I must say one thing for him : he has but two faults, but they are enough to ruin any man in this province ; he is an honest man, and speaks the truth. I will leave HOW MANY FINS HAS A COD? 363 you together now, and go and order your dinner for you." John Barkins was a tall, corpulent, am- phibious-looking man, that seemed as if he would be equally at home in either element, land or water. He held in hi* hand what he called a nor'wester, a large, broad-brimmed, glazed hat, with a peak projecting behind to shed the water from off his club queue, which was nearly as thick as a hawser. He wore a long, nar- row-tailed, short-waisted blue coat, with large, white-plated buttons, that resem- bled Spanish dollars, a red waistcoat, a spotted Bandana silk handkerchief tied loosely about his throat, and a pair of voluminous corduroy trousers of the color of brown soap, over which were drawn a pair of fishermen's boots that reached nearly to his knees. His waistcoat and his trousers were apparently not upon very intimate terms, for though they traveled together, the latter were taught to feel their subjection, but when they lagged too far behind, they were brought to their place by a jerk of impatience that threat- ened their very existence. He had a thick, matted head of black hair, and a pair of whiskers that disdained the effe- minacy of either scissors or razor, and revelled in all the exuberant and wild profusion of nature. His countenance was much weather-beaten from constant exposure to the vicissitudes of heat and cold, but was open, good-natured and manly. Such was my client. He advanc- ed and shook me cordially by the hand. " Glad to see you, sir," he said ; " you are welcome to Plymouth. My name is John Barkins ; I dare say you have often heard of me, for everybody kuows me about these parts. Any one will tell you what sort of man John Barkins is. That's me that's my name, do you see ? I am a persecuted man, lawyer; but I ain't altogether quite run down yet, neither. I have a case in court; I dare say Mr. Robins has told you of it. He is a very clever man is old Billy, and as smart a chap of his age as you will see anywhere a'most. I suppose you have often heard of him before, for everybody knows Wil- liam Robins in these parts. It's the most important case, sir, ever tried in this coun- ty. If I lose it, Plymouth is done. There's an end to the fisheries and a great many of us are a-going to sell off and quit the country.'' I will not detail his cause to you in his own words, because it will fatigue you as it wearied me in hearing it. It possessed no public interest whatever, though it was of some importance to himself as regarded the result. It appeared that he had fitted out a large vessel for the Labrador fishery, and taken with him a very full crew, who were to share in the profits or loss of the adventure. The agreement, which was a verbal one was, that on the completion of the voyage the cargo should be sold, and the net proceeds be distributed in equal portions, one-half to appertain to the captain and vessel, and the other half to the crew, and to be equally divided among them. The undertaking was a dangerous one, and on their return theseamen repudiated the bargain, and sued him for wages. It was, therefore, a very simple affair, being a mere question of fact as to the partner- ship, and that depending wholly on the evidence. Having ascertained these .par- ticulars, and inquired into the nature of the proof by which his defence was to be supported, and given him his instructions, I requested him to call upon me again in the morning before Court, and bowed to him in a manner too significant to be mis- understood. He, however, still lingered in the room, and turning his hat round and round several times, examining the rim very carefully, as if at a loss to dis- cover the front from the back part of it, he looked up at last, and said : " Lawyer, I have a favor to ask of you." "What is it?" I inquired. "There is a man/' he replied, " coming agin me to-morrow as a witness, of the name of Lillum. He thinks himself a freat judge of the fisheries, and he does now a considerable some, I must say ; but d him ! I caught fish afore he was born, and know more about fishing than all the Lillums of Plymouth put to- gether. Will you just ask him one ques- tion?" "Yes, fifty, if you like." " Well, I only want you to try him with one, and that will choke him. Ask him if he knows ' how many fins a cod has, at a word?'" "What has that got to do with the cause ? " I said with unfeigned astonish- ment. "Everything, sir," he answered ; "every- thing in the world. If he is to come to 364 HOW MANY FINS HAS A COD? give his opinion on other men's business, the best way is to see if he knows his own. Tarnation, man ! he don't know a cod- fish when he sees it ; if he does, he can't tell you ' how many fins it has at a word.' It is a great catch, that. I have won a great many half pints of brandy on it. I never knew a feller that could an- swer that question yet, right off the reel." , He then explained to me that, in the enumeration, one small fin was always omitted by those who had not previously made a minute examination. " Now, sir," " if he can't cipher out that question (and I'll go a hogshead of rum on it he can't), turn him right out of the box, and tell him to go a voyage with old John Barkins that's me, my name is John Barkins and he will larn him his trade. Will you ask him that question, law- yer?" " Certainly," I said, " if you wish it." " You will gain the day, then, sir," he continued, much elated ; " You will gain the day, then, as sure as fate. Good-by, lawyer ! " When he had nearly reached the foot of the staircase, I heard him returning, and, opening the door, he looked in and said : " You won't forget, will you ? my name is John Barkins ; ask anybody about here, and they will tell you who I am, for everybody knows John Barkins in these parts. The other man's name is Lillum a very decent, 'sponsible-looking man, too ; but he don't know everything. Take him up all short. ' How many fins has a cod, at a word ? ' says you. If you can lay him on the broad of his back with that question, I don't care a farthing if I lose the case. It's a great satisfaction to nonplush a knowin' one that way. You know the question ? " " Yes, yes," I replied impatiently. " I know all about it." " You do, do you, sir?" said he, shutting the door behind him, and advancing towards me, and looking me steadily in the face: " you do, do you? Then 'how many fins has a cod, at a word?' u I answered as he had instructed me. "Gad, sir," he said, ''it's a pity your father hadn't made a fisherman of you r for you know more about a cod now than any man in Plymouth but one, old John Barkins that's me, my name is John Barkins. Everybody knows me in these parts. Bait your hook with that question, and you'll catch old Lillum, I know. As soon as he has it in his gills, drag him right out of the water. Give him no time to play in with him, and whap him on the deck ; hit him hard over the head it will make him open his mouth, and your hook is ready for another catch." " Good night, Mr. Barkins," I replied ; " call on me in the morning. I am fa- tigued now." " Good night r sir," he answered ; " you won't forget ?" Dinner was now announced, and my friend Mr. Robins and myself sat down to it with an excellent appetite. Having done ample justice to the good cheer of Mrs. Brown, we drew up to the fire, which, at that season of the year, was most acceptable in the morning and evening, and smoked our cigars. Robins had so many good stories, and told them so uncommonly well, that it was late be- fore we retired to rest. Instead of being shown into the bedroom |?I had tempo- rarily occupied for changing my dress before dinner, I was ushered into a lone, low room, fitted up on either side with berths, with a locker running round the base, and in all respects, except the sky- light, resembling a cabin. Strange as it appeared, it was in perfect keeping with the place (a fishing port), its population, and the habits of the peo- ple. Mrs. Brown, the landlady, was the widow of a sea-faring man, who had, no doubt, fitted up the chamber in this man- ner with a view to accommodate as many " passengers " (as he would designate his guests) as possible in this sailor's home. A lamp hung suspended from the ceiling, and appeared to be supplied and trimmed for the night, so as to afford easy access and egress at all hours. It was almost impossible not to imagine one's self at sea on board of a crowded coasting packet. Retreat was impossible, and therefore I made up my mind at once to submit to this whimsical arrangement for the night, and having undressed myself, was about to climb into a vacant berth, near the door, when some one opposite called out : " Lawyer, is that you?" It was my old tormenter, the skipper. Upon ascertaining who it was, he imme- diately got out of bed, and crossed over HOW MANY FINS HAS A COD? 365 to where I was standing. Seizing me by the shoulders, he clasped me tightly round the neck, and whispered " ' How many fins has a cod at a word ?' That's the question. You wDn't forget, will you?" " No," I said, " I not only will not for- get it to-morrow, but I shall recollect you and your advice as long as I live. Now let me get some rest, or I shall be unable to plead your cause for you, as I am ex- cessively fatigued and very drowsy." "Certainly, certainly," he said; "but don't forget the catch.'' It was some time before the hard bed, the fatigues of the journey, and the no- velty of the scene permitted me to com- pose myself for sleep ; and just as I was dropping off into slumber, I heard the same unwelcome sounds " Lawyer, lawyer, are you asleep ?" I affected not to hear him, and after another ineffectual attempt on his part to rouse me he desisted; but I heard him mutter to himself " Plague take the sarpent ! he'll forget it and lose all ; a feller that falls asleep at the helm, ain't fit to be trusted nohow." * * * In the morning when I awoke, the first objects that met my eye were the Bandana handkerchief, the red waistcoat and blue coat, while a good-natured face watched over me with all the solicitude of a parent for the first moment of wakeful- ness. " Lawyer, are you awake?" said Bar- kins. " This is the great day the greatest day Plymouth ever saw ! We shall know now whether we are to carry on the fish- eries, or give them up to the Yankees. Everything depends upon that question ; for heaven's sake, don't forget it ! ' How many fins has a cod, at a word?' It's very late now. It is eight o'clock, and the courts meet at ten, and the town is full. All the folks from Chebogue, and Jegoggin, and Salmon River, and Beaver River, and Eel Brook, and Polly Crosby's Hole, and The Gut and the Devil's Is- land, and Ragged Island, and far and near, are come. It's a great day and a great catch. I never lost a bet on it yet. You may win many a half-pint of brandy on it, if you won't forget it." " Do go away and let me dress myself !" I said petulantly. " I won't forget you." "Well, I'll go below," he replied, "if you wish it ; but call for me when you want me. My name is John Barkins ; ask any one for me, for every man knows John Barkins in these parts. But, dear me,'' he continued, " I forgot !" and, tak- ing an enormous key out of his pocket, he opened a sea-chest, from which he drew a large glass decanter, highly gilt, and a rummer of corresponding dimen- sions, with a golden edge. Taking the bottle in one hand and fhe glass in the other, he drew the small round gilt stop- per with his mouth, and pouring out about half a pint of the liquid, he said, " Here, lawyer, take a drop of bitters this morning, just to warm the stomach and clear your throat. It's excellent! It's old Jamaiky and sarsyparilly, and will do your heart good. It's an anti-fogmatic, and will make you as hungry as a shark, and as lively as a thrasher !" I shook my head in silence and despair, for I saw he was a man there was no es- caping from. *' You won't, eh ?" " No, thank you ; I never take any- thing of the kind in the morning." " Where the deuce was you broughten up," he asked, with distended eyes. " Well, if you won't, I will, then ; so here goes," and holding back his head, the potion vanished in an instant, and he returned the bottle and the glass to their respective places. After breakfast, Mr. Robins conducted me to the court-house, which was filled almost to suffocation. The panel was immediately called, and the jury placed in the box. Previous to their being sworn, I inquired of Barkins whether any of them were related to the plain- tiffs, or had been known to express an opinion adverse to his interests; for if such was the case, it was the time to challenge them. To my astonishment, he immediately rose and told the judges he challenged the whole jury, the bench of magistrates, and every man in the house a defiance that was accompanied by a menacing outstretched arm and clenched fist. A shout of laughter that nearly shook the walls of the building followed this violent outbreak. Nothing daunted by their ridicule, however, he returned to the charge, and said, " I repeat it ; I challenge the whole of you, if you dare ! " Here the Court interposed, and asked 366 HOW MANY FINS HAS A COD ? him what he meant by such indecent be- haviour. " Meant ! " he said, '' I mean what I say. The strange lawyer here tells me now is my time to challenge, and I claim my right; I do challenge any or all of you! Pick out any man present you please, take the smartest chap you've got, put us both on board the same vessel, and I challenge him to catch, split, clean, salt and stow away as many fish in a day as I can cod, pollock, shad, or mackerel ; I don't care which, for it's all the same to me ; and I'll go a hogshead of rum on it I beat him ! Will any man take up the challenge?" and he turned slowly round and examined the whole crowd. " You won't, won't you ? I guess not ; you know a trick worth two of that, I reckon! There, lawyer, there is my challenge; now go on with the cause! " As soon as order was restored the jury was sworn, and the plaintiffs counsel opened his case and called his witnesses, the last of whom was Mr. Lillum. ''That's him ! " said Mr. Barkins, put- ting both arms round my neck and nearly choking me, as he whispered, " Ask him ' how many fins has a cod, at a word ? ' " I now stood up to cross-examine him, when I was again in the skipper's clutches. "Don't forget! the question is " " If you do not sit down immediately, sir," I said in a loud and authoritative voice (for the scene had become ludi- crous), '' and leave me to conduct the cause my own way, I shall retire from the court ! " He sat down, and groaning audibly, put both hands before his face and muttered "There is no dependence on a man that sleeps at the helm ! " I commenced, however, in the way my poor client desired, for I saw plainly that he was more anxious of what he called stumping old Lillum and " non-plushing " him, than about the result of his trial, although he was firmly convinced that the one depended on the other. " How many years have you been en- gaged in the Labrador fishery, sir ? " " Twenty-five." " You are, of course, perfectly conver- sant with the cod fishery ? " " Perfectly. I know as much, if not more, about it than any man in Ply- mouth." Here Barkins pulled my coat, and most beseechingly said : " Ask him " "Be quiet, sir, and do not interrupt me!" was the consolatory reply he re- ceived. " Of course, then, after such long ex- perience, sir, you know a codfish when you see it ? " " I should think so ! " " That will not do, sir. Will you swear that you do ? " " I do not come here to be made a fool of! " "Nor I either, sir; I require you ta answer yes or no. Will you undertake to swear that you know a codfish when you see it?" " I will, sir." Here Barkins rose and struck the table with his fist a blow that nearly split it, and, turning to me, said : " Ask him " " Silence, sir ! " I again vociferated. " Let there be no mistake." I continued. " I will repeat the question. Do you undertake to swear that you know a cod- fish when you see it ? " " I do, sir, as well as I know my own name when I see it I M " Then, sir, how many fins has a cod, at a word?" Here the blow was given, not on the deal slab of the table, but on my back, with such force as to throw me forward on my two hands. " Ay, floor him ! " said Barkins ; " let him answer that question ! The lawyer has you there ! How many fins has a cod, at a word, you old sculpin ? " " I can answer you that without hesita- tion." " How many, then ? " "Let me see three on the back, and two on the shoulder, that's five ; two on the nape, that's seven ; and two on the shoulder, that's nine. Nine, sir ! " " Missed it, by gosh ! " said Barkins. " Didn't I tell you so? I knew he couldn't answer it. And yet the fellow has the im- pudence to call himself a fisherman ! " Here I requested the Court to interfere, and compel my unfortunate and excited client to be silent. " Is there not a small fin beside," I said, "between the under jaw and the throat ? " " I believe there is." HOW MANY FINS HAS A COD? * You believe I Then, sir, it seems you are in doubt, and that you do not know a codfish when you see it. You may go ; I will not ask you another question. Go, sir, but let me advise you to be more care- ful in your answers for the future." There was a universal shout of laughter in the Court, and Barkins availed himself of the momentary noise to slip his hand under the table and grip me by the thigh, so as nearly to sever tne flesh from the bone. " Bless your soul, my stout fresh-water fish ! " he said, " you have gained the case, after all. Didn't I tell you he couldn't answer that question ? It's a great catch, isn't it?" The plaintiffs had wholly failed in their proof. Instead of contenting themselves with showing the voyage and their ser- vices, from which the law would have presumed an assumpsit to pay wages according to the ordinary course of busi- ness, and leaving the defendant to prove that the agreement was a special one, they attempted to prove too much, by estab- lishing a negative ; and, in doing so, made out a sufficient defence for Barkins. Knowing how much depended upon the last address to the jury, when the judge was incompetent to direct or control their decision, I closed on the plaintiffs' case, and called no witnesses. The jury were informed by the judge that, having now heard the case on the part of the plaintiffs and also on the part of the defendants, it was their duty to make up their minds, and find a verdict for one or the other. After this very able, intelligible and im- partial charge, the jury were conducted to their room, and the greater part of the audience adjourned to the neighboring tavern for refreshment. As soon as it was announced that the jury had returned, the tumultuous wave of the crowd rushed into the Court-house, and surging backward and forward, gra- dually settled down to a level and tranquil surface. The panel was then called over, and the verdict read aloud. It waa for the defendant. Barkins was not so much elated as I had expected. He appeared to have been prepared for any event. He had had his gratification already. " Old Lillum was floored," the " knowing one had been non-plushed," and he was satisfied. He had a duty to perform, however, which he did with great pleasure, and I have no doubt with great liberality. The jury were to be " treated," for it was the cus- tom of those days for the winning party to testify his gratitude by copious liba- tions of brandy and rum. As soon as the verdict was recorded, he placed himself at their head, and led the way to the tavern with as much gravity and order as if he was conducting a guard of honor. As soon as they were all in the street, he turned about, and walking backward, so as to face them, and at the same time not to interrupt their progress to the mansion of bliss, he said " A pretty feller that Lillum, ain't he ? to swear he knew what a cod was, and yet couldn't tell how many fins it had, at a word! Who would have thought that milksop of a lawyer would have done so well ? He actually scared me when I first saw him ; for a feller that smokes cigars instead of a pipe, drinks red ink (port wine) instead of old Jamaiky, and has a pair of hands as white as a flat fish, ain't worth his grub, in a general way. How- sumdever, it don't do to hang a feller for his looks, after all, that's a fact ; for that crittur is like a singed cat, better nor he seems." I did not see him again till the evening, when he came to congratulate me on hav- ing done the handsomest thing, he said, as everybody allowed, that ever was done in Plymouth, shown the greatest fisher- man in it (in his own conceit) that he didn't know a codfish when he saw it. " It was a great catch that, lawyer," he continued, and he raised me up in hia arms and walked round the room with me as if he were carrying a baby. " Don't forget it, ' How many fins has a cod, at a word ? ' You never need to want a half- pint of brandy while you have that fact to bet on ! " The next day I left Plymouth very early in the morning. When I descended to the door I found both Robins and Barkins there, and received a hearty and cordial farewell from both of them. The latter entreated me, if ever I came that way again, to favor him with a visit, as he had some capital Jamaica forty years old, and would be glad to instruct me in the habits of fish and fishermen. " I will show you," he said, " how to make a shoal of mackerel follow your vessel like a pack of dogs. I can tell you S68 KICKED BY A MULE. how to make them rise from the bottom of the sea in thousands, when common folks can't tell there is one there, and then how to feed and coax them away to the very spot you want to take them. I will show you how to spear shad, and how to strike the fattest salmon that ever was, so that it will kep to go to the East Indies ; and I'll larn you how to smoke herrings without dryin' them hard, and tell you the wood and the vegetables that give them the best flavor ; and even them cussed, dry, good-for-nothing ale-wives, I'll teach you how to cure them so you will say they are the most delicious fish you ever tasted in all your life. I will, upon my soul ! And now, before you go, I want you to do me a good turn, lawyer. Just take this little silver flask, my friend, to remember old John Barkins by, when he is dead and gone, and when people in these parts shall say when you inquire after him, that they don't know such a man as old John Barkins no more. It is a beautiful article. I found it in the pocket of a captain of a Spanish privateer that boarded my vessel, and that I hit over the head with a handspike, so hard that he never knew what hurt him. It will just suit you, for it only holds a thimble-full, and was made o' purpose for fresh-water fish, like Spaniards and lawyers. Good- bye ! God bless you, sir ! A fair wind and a short passage to you 1 " I had hardly left the door, before I heard my name shouted after me. " Mr. Sandford ! lawyer ! lawyer I " It was old Barkins. I anticipated his object : I knew it was his old theme " Lawyer, don't forget the catch, ' How many fins has a cod, at a word ? ' " KICKED BY A MULE. JAKE JOHNSON had a mule. He (the animal) could kick higher, hit harder on the slightest provocation, and act iiglier than any other mule known on record. One morning, riding his property to market, Jake met Jim Boggs, against whom he had an old but concealed grudge. He knew Boggs's weakness lay in brag- ging and betting; therefore he saluted him accordingly " How are you, Jim ? Fine morning." " Hearty, squire," replied Jim. " Fine weather. Nice mule that you air riding on. Will he do to bet on ? " " Bet on ? Guess he will do that. I tell you, Jim Boggs, he's the best mule in this country." " Great smash I is that so ? " ejaculated Jim. " Solid truth, every word of it. Tell you confidentially, Jim, I am taking him down for betting purposes. I bet he can kick a fly off from any man without its hurting him." " Now look here, squire," said Jim, " I am not a betting character, but I'll bet you something on that myself." "Jim, there's no use don't bet. I don't want to win your money." " Don't be alarmed, squire. I'll take such bets as them every time." " Well, if you are determined to bet, I will risk a small stake say five dollars.' 1 " All right, squire, you're my man. But who'll he kick the fly off? There is no one here but you and I. You try it." " No," says Johnson, " I have to be by the mule's head and to order him." " Oh, yaas," says Jim. " Then probably I'm the man. Wa'll, I'll do it; but you are to bet ten against my five if I risk it." "All right," quoth the squire. "Now, there's a fly on your shoulder. Stand still." And Johnson adjusted the mule. " Whist, Jervey ! " said he. The mule raised his heels with such velocity and force that Boggs rose in the air like a bird, and alighted on all-fours in a muddy ditch, bang up against a rail fence. Rising in a towering passion, he ex- claimed "Yaas, that is smart! I knew your darned mule couldn't do it. You had all that put up. I wouldn't be kicked like that for fifty dollars. You can just fork over them ere stakes for it, any way." " Not so fast, Jim. Jervey did just what I said he would ; that is, kick a fly off a man without its hurting him. You see the mule is not hurt by the operation. How- ever, if you are not satisfied, we will try it again as often as you wish." "The deuce take you," growled Jim. "I'd rather have a barn fall on me at once than have that critter kick me again. Keep the stakes, but don't say anything about it." And Boggs trudged on in bitterness of soul, murmuring to himself " Sold and kicked by a mule 1 " PAUL PRY. i>AUL PRY. PAUL PHY. This very admirable Comedy is by John Poole, and was first played at the Haymarket Theatre, London. The author has stated, that the character of Paul Pry was suggested by an anecdote related to him several years previous to the production of the piece. An old lady, living in a narrow street, had passed so much of her time in watching the affairs of her neighbours, that she acquired the power of distinguishing the sound of every knocker within hearing ; she fell ill, and was confined to her bed. Unable to observe in person, what was going on with- out, she stationed her maid at the window as a substitute, for the performance of that duty. "Betty, what ARE you thinking about? Don't you hear a double knock at No. 9? Who is it?" " The first floor lodger, Ma'am." " Betty ! Betty ! I declare I must give you warning. Why don't you tell me, what that knock is at No. 54?" "Why, Lord! Ma'am! it is only the baker with pies. " PIES. Betty ! what can they want with pies at 54 ? They had pies yesterday.' ' Of this very point the author has availed himself. Paul Pry, however, was never in- tended as the representative of any one indi- vidual, but of a class like the melancholy of Jaques, he is "compounded of many SIM- PLES." That it should have been so often, and so erroneously, supposed to have been drawn after some particular person, is, per- haps, complimentary to the general truth of the delineation. The Comedy is original in plot, character, and dialogue. The only imitation is to be found in that part in which Mrs. Subtle is engaged, which reminds one of the LE VIEUX CELIBATAIRE ; but even the little adopted is considerably altered and modified, by the ne- cessity of adapting it to the exigencies of a different plot. The circumstances attending the first per- formance of Paul Pry are singular. Mr. j Farren refused to play the character of ; Colonel Hardy, alleging it was a secondary j part and Mr. Listen objected to Paul Pry ' on the plea that the character was a mere excrescence on the main plot. Actors are not always the best judges in these matters ; Mr. Listen realized a large portion of the splendid fortune upon which he retired from the stage, from his great success in Paul Pry ; and the performance of the character of Colonel Hardy has added to the reputation VOL II W. H- of many of our sterling Comedians. At th last rehearsal of the Comdy, Mr. Listen was imperfect, in his part, and undecided as to its costume; while on th stage in a state of I fidgety uncertainty and doubt, a workman i from a neighboui-ing manufactory entered, j wearing a large pair of Cossack trowsers, i which, it being a wet day, he had tucked j into his Wellington boots. Mr. Listen im- j mediately adopted the idea, and hence the ; origin of the rather singular dress in which ! Paul Pry generally appears. The Comedy is a favourite stock piece in all our Theatres. Mr. Burtor*, the second i comedian who played the part in England, added to his popularity in this country, by his almost inimitable performance of Paul Pry. ACT I. SCENE I. A village inn. DOUBLEDOT and SIMON discovered, drinking. Simon. Well, really, I must go, Mr. Doubledot; it will be a busy day at our house. Master expects company to dinner. Doub. Come, we must finish the mug : and when is Miss Eliza's wedding to take place ? Simon. Can't say : my master, Colonel Hardy, never lets anyone into his se- crets. Doub. Well, Miss Eliza's a nice young lady. Simon. Aye ; that she is, but she is a sly one : she looks as if butter wouldn't melt in her mouth ; but she's a sly one, I tell you. Doub. What makes you think that, Simon? Simon. I don't mean any harm of her, for she's as kind a soul, bless her, as ever lived ; but, by putting this and that to- f ether, you know, we in the kitchen often now what is going on in the parlour better than the parlour folks themselves. She's in love. Doub. That's natural enough, since she's going to be married, Simon. But as she never saw the man she is to marry Doub. Sensibly argued; with whom, then? Simon. We can't make that out. You know what a strict hand the Colonel is passionate severe no one in his house 24 370 PAUL PRY. dare say their soul is their own ; so that, if our young lady were in love with twenty men, she would never dare tell her father of it. No, no, my master is not like his neighbour, old Mr. Wither- ton, who is led oy the nose by a steward and a housekeeper. Doub. Ah ! poor old gentleman ; but don't you think your young lady's maid, Mrs. Phebe, is in the secret? Simon. May be, but she's as close- tongued as her mistress; besides, she never mixes with us. Mrs. Phebe's a devilish nice girl, Doubledot; here's wish- ing her a good husband, and she may have me for asking. Well, I must go, else I shall get chattering of the affairs of the family a thing I never do. [ Comes forward.] Ha ! here comes Mr. Paul Pry. Doub. Plague take Mr. Paul Pry ! He is one of those idle, meddling fellows, who, having no employment themselves, are perpetually interfering in other people's affairs. Simon. Aye, and he's inquisitive into all matters great or small. Doub. Inquisitive! why, he makes no scruple to question you respecting your most private concerns. Then he will weary you to death with a long story about a cramp in his leg, or the loss of a sleeve button, or some such idle matter, and so he passes his days, " dropping in," as he calls it, from house to house at the most unreasonable times, to the annoy- ance of every family in the village. But I'll soon get rid of him. [Simon goes up. Enter PRY. Pry. Ha ! how d'ye do, Mr. Doubledot? Doub. Very busy, Mr. Pry, and have scarcely time to say "pretty well,'' thank ye. [Retires up, and Simon advances. Pry. Ha 1 Simon ! you here ? Bather early in the morning to be in a public house sent here with a message from your master, perhaps. I say, Simon, when this wedding takes place, I suppose your master will put you all into new liveries, eh? Simon. Can't say, sir. Pry. Well, I think he might. \Looks at Simon's sleeve.} Between ourselves, Simon, it won't be before you want 'em, eh? Simon. That's master's business, sir, and neither yours nor mine. Pry. Mr. Simon, behave yourself, or I shall complain of you to the Colonel. Apropos, Simon, that's an uncommon fine leg of mutton the butcher has just sent to your house. It weighs thirteen pounds five ounces. Doub. And how do you know that ? Pry. I asked the butcher. I say, Si- mon, is it for roasting or boiling? Simon. Half and half, with the chill taken off. There's your answer. | Exit Simon. Pry. That's an uncommon ill-behaved servant. Well, since you say you are busy, I won't interrupt you ; only as I was passing, I thought I might as well drop in. Doub. Then now you may drop out again. The London coach will be in pre- sently, and Pry. No passengers by it to-day, for I have been to the hill to look for it. Doub. Did you expect any one by it, that you were so anxious? Pry. No, but I make it my business to see the coach come in every day ; I can't bear to be idle. Doub. Useful occupation, truly. Pry. Always see it go out ; have done these ten years. Doub. [Going up.] Tiresome block- head ! well, good morning to you. Pry. Good morning, Mr. Doubledot, you don't appear to be very full here. Doub. No. no. Pry. Hal you are at a heavy rent. [Pauses for an answer after each question.] I've often thought of that. No support- ing such an establishment without a deal of custom ; if it's not an impertinent ques- tion, don't you find it rather a hard mat- ter to make both ends meet when Christ- mas comes? Doub. If it isn't asking an impertinent question, what's that to you ? Pry. Oh, nothing, only some folks have the luck of it ; they havejust taken in a nobleman's family at the Green Dragon. Doub. What's that! A noble at the Green Dragon ? Pry. Travelling carriage and four. Three servants on the dickey and an out- rider, all in blue liveries. They dine and stop all night ; a pretty bill there will be to-morrow, for the servants are not on board wages. Doub. Plague take the Green Dragon. How did you discover that they are not on board wages? PAUL PRY. 371 Pry. I was curious to know, and asked one of them. You know I never miss anything for want of asking, 'tis no fault of mine the nabob is not here. Doub. Why, what had you to do with it ? Pry. You know I never forget my friends. I stopt the carriage as it was coming down the hill stopt it dead, and said that his lordship I took him for a lord at first that, if his lordship intended to make any stay, he couldn't do better than go to Doubledot's. Doub. Well! Pry. Well, would you believe it? out pops a saffron coloured face from the car- riage window and says, you're an impu- dent rascal for stopping my carriage, and I'll not go there if another inn is to be found within ten miles of it. Doub. There ! that comes of your con- founded meddling. If you had not inter- fered, I should have stood an equal chance with the Green Dragon. Pry. I'm very sorry, but I did it for the best. Doub. Did it for the best, indeed! Deuce take you. By your officious at- tempts to serve, you do more mischief in the neighbourhood, than the exciseman, the apothecary, and the attorney alto- gether. Pry. Well, there's gratitude. Now, really I must go good morning. [Exit Paul Pry. Doub. I've got rid of him at last, thank heaven. [Pry re-enters]. Well, what now ? Pry. I've dropt one of my gloves. Nay, that's very odd : here it is in my hand all the time. Doub. Go to the devil ! [Exit. Pry. Come, that's civil, [looking out]. Eh ! there's the Postman ! I wonder whether the Parkins's have got letters again to-day? They have had letters every day this week, and I can't for the life of me think what they can [feels hastily in his pocket]. Apropos talking of letters, here's one I took from him last week, for the Colonel's daughter, Miss Eliza, and I have always forgotten to give it to her ; I dare say it is not of much im- portance, [peeps into it], "Likely unex- pected affectionate.' ' I can't make it out. No matter, I'll contrive to take it to the house. By the bye, tho,' I have a deal to do to-day, buy an ounce of snuff, fetch my umbrella, which I left to be mended, drop in at old Mr. Witherton's, and ask him how his tooth is. I have often thou^l.i, that if that tooth was mine, I'd have it out. [Exit. SCENE II. A Chamber at WITHERTON'S. Enter Mrs. SUBTLE and GRASP. Mrs. S. Don't threaten me, Mr. Grasp, for you know you are at least as much in my power as I am in your's, and that the exposure of either of us must be fatal to both. Grasp. Well, well, Mrs. Subtle, you must allow for the warmth of my temper. Mrs. S. Your temper will one day bring down ruin upon us. We have sufficient control over Mr. Witherton to serve our own purpose: but by making him feel his subjection, by drawing the cord too tight, as you do, you run the risk of excit- ing his suspicions, and rousing him to re- bellion. Grasp. Never fear; we have the Old Baby in leading strings, and may do with him just what we please. Mrs. S. We might, whilst we remained at his own place, in Wiltshire, away from all the world ; but, since his old friend, Colonel Hardy, has induced him to pass a few months here, near him, a new influ- ence has arisen. Grasp. And for that reason we must be more rigid i n the maintenance of our own. Then there's that young fellow, Willis, whom the Colonel has contrived to foist into his family : but Til soon get rid of him. Mrs. S. It is not Willis I fear ; but the girl, Marian. When we were at home no one presumed to interfere in the arrange- ments of the household that was our province ; but here, however, I have taken a dislike to that girl, and she shall quit the house, displease whomsoever it may. Grasp. Indeed! it would displease me for one, and she shall remain. Mrs. S. Shall ! another such a word, Mr. Grasp and Grasp. So now, Mrs. Subtle, you would threaten me. Who was the inventor of all the calumnies which have forever poi- soned the mind of Mr. Witherton against his nephew, poor young Somers? By whose arts have they been prevented meeting each other ? Who falsified some of the poor lad's letters ? intercepted and suppressed others ? impugned the charac- ter of the woman he chose for his wife? 372 PAUL PRY. Mrs. S. Who was it that, employed to forward the letters written to him by his uncle, destroyed them ? who for these three years have robbed, pillaged, plun- dered ? Grasp. Both you and I. So, there, we are even. Harkee, Mrs. Subtle, we have neither of us anything to gain by quarrel- ling. Give me vour hand there ! Mrs. S. [aside]. The hateful wretch ! Grasp. And now turn to a pleasanter subject. Mrs. S. What subject? Grasp. One upon which I have been constant these five years love. It re- lieves my heart, after any little misunder- standing between us, to say a tender word to you. Mrs. S. Eeally, Mr. Grasp, your gallan- try Grasp. I was never wanting in gallan- try towards the fair sex so, once for all, my dear Mrs. Subtle, you and I are so confoundedly in dread of each other, the sooner we marry, and make our interests one, the better. Mrs. S. [aside]. I'd sooner die. But you are so impatient. Grasp. Pooh, pooh, you have been shil- lyshallying these five years, and it is time you should make up your mind that we unite our interests, play the same game, and have the old fellow more completely in our power; besides, there is no real pleasure in a single life. Look at our master, or rather our slave. He is an old bachelor, and with all his fortune, he is an unhappy man. Mrs. S. [sighs] . True. But I have once already been married, and Grasp. Aye, but that was a marriage contracted contrary to your inclinations. Our cause is different. You'll find me a tender, indulgent husband : so I'll allow you till to-morrow to consider of my pro- posal, and then if you don't, hang me but I'll expose But here comes the Baby, and Colonel Hardy, and that eternal Wil- lis, along with him. Remember, my dar- ling Mrs. Subtle [Shakes her hand], to- morrow you consent to our making each other happy for life or I'll trounce you. [Exit. Mrs. S. I am indeed in his power ; for in one moment could he destroy the fruits of ten long years of labour. To-morrow ! then I must bring Witherton to a de- cision to-day. My control over his affec- tions is, I think nay, I am sure it ie entire. The result cannot but be favour- able, and once mistress here, I'll turn you to the dogs. [Retires. Enter WITHERTON, HARDY and WILLIS. WILLIS seats himself- Who comes down. Hardy. You'll consider of it. What do you mean by considering of it? What is there to consider ? Can't you say at once whether you will dine with me or not? With. Not so loud, my dear friend you agitate me. Hardy. Then why the devil don't you make up your mind? I hate the man who doesn't make up his mind. Do as I do always make up your mind, right or wrong. With. Well, well. Hardy. Perhaps Mrs. Subtle, your housekeeper, won't give you leave. I say Mrs. Subtle [To Mrs. /S.], is it you who refuse your master leave to dine with me to-day ? Mrs. S. I, sir ! Mr. Witherton is per- fectly at liberty to do as he pleases. Hardy. There ! you are at liberty to do as you please; and so you ought to be. I shall expect you, then. You have but to cross the garden to my house ; so the walk won't fatigue you. You'll meet a friend or two shan't tell you who, till you come never do ; and I shall have something to say to you, relative to my daughter Eliza's marriage d'ye hear ? With. I do, my friend ; and I should hear quite as well though you did not speak so loud. Hardy. And bring Willis with you, he is a good lad ; I have a great respect for him, else I should not have recommended him to you. You are pleased with him, aint you ? With. I am, indeed. Each day of the few months he has been a companion to me, he has grown in my esteem. His good sense, his kindly disposition, his urbanity, have won from me the confidence and af- fection of a friend. Hardy. That's well; and Marian she doesn't disgrace my recommendation, I'll answer for it. Where is she? Mrs. S. She's engaged in my room, sir. Mr. Witherton received her into the family at your request; but really I I have so little to do, that an assistant is quite needless to me ; and, as I am for sparing my good master all the expense I PAUL PRY. 373 can in the management of his house, it strikes me that Hardy. I think I could show him where one might be saved. With. No matter. The expense is tri- fling, and the poor thing appears to be happy to be here ; and heaven knows that the sight of a happy face is the only solace in my lonely existence. Hardy. Serve you right, you old fool, for not marrying in your youth ; I don't wish to say anything unpleasant, but it serves you right, I tell you. And then, to make matters worse, you must needs go pass your days at a melancholy place in Wiltshire, where you have only those about you, who ah. As to your neglect- ing your nephew, I'll say nothing about that "now, because I won't make you un- comfortable. But you repent it, I know you do ; and you'll repent it more every day you live. "With. That is a subject I must not hear mentioned, even by you. Hardy. Why now, who the deuce does mention it ? Didn't I this very moment say I won't mention it for fear of making you uncomfortable ? Ah, you are a fool- ish old fellow mark my words, you are a very foolish old fellow. I'll go home and talk to my daughter about her marriage. Bless her dear innocent little heart, there she is, I'll answer for it, quietly seated in the library reading the Spectator, or paint- ing the daffodils on velvet. Well, good morning. I shall expect you. [Shakes Witherton's hands violently. With. I'll come, but consider my n er ves. [ Goes and sits. Hardy. Plague your nerves, but it serves you right. If you had lived a jolly life, as I have done, you would never have had any nerves. Good morning, Mrs. Subtle. Mrs. S. I wish you a very good morning, sir ; allow me to conduct you to the door. Hardy. Willis, you will be sure to come with Mr. Withertbn. The train is fairly laid ; do you and your little wife be on your guard ; and if we don't blow your enemies into the air [Muttering to Mrs. /Subtle, who curtsies ceremoniously. [Exit Hardy and Mrs. Subtle. WILLIS comes down. With. There goes a happy man. Oh, Hardy is right, in my youth. ought to have married Willis. And why did you not, sir? With. For the fool's reason ; I was un- willing to sacrifice my liberty. And what is the ooasted liberty of a bachelor? He makes a solitary journey through life loving no one, by none beloved ; and when he reaches the confines of old age, that which, with a tender companion by his side, might have been to him a garden of repose, he finds a barren wilderness. Willis. True, sir; and often with the sacrifice of his dear liberty into the bar- gain : avoiding the dreaded control of a wife, he deems himself a slave to cunning and interested dependants. With. (Looking cautiously about.) Willis, Willis, that I sometimes fear is my case ; not that I have any reason to doubt the fidelity and attachment of Grasp, or Mrs. Subtle, but they frequently assume an authority over me, which, however it may displease me, yet from a long, lazy habit of submission, I have scarcely the courage to resist. Willis. (Aside.) My poor uncle 1 With. But Mrs. Subtle is a good soul, a kind soul, and as attentive and affection- ate towards me as a sister. Do you know that notwithstanding her humble situation here, she is well born, as she tells me, well educated : aye, and a very fine woman too. Willis. (Aside.) It is not difficult to per- ceive where this will end. You, you nad a sister, sir. With. I had; the mother of my un- grateful and disobedient nephew. She went abroad, died, and left an only son ; this Edward Somers. He might have been a joy and comfort to me, he is my bane and curse. But let us -speak of him no more : his very name is hateful to me. Willis. This is the first time I ever ven tured, sir. Duty and respect, which hitherto have constrained me to be silent, now bid me speak. What proofs have you of his ingratitude and disobedience ? With. The proofs are in his conduct. At his mother's death I wrote to him to come to England, told him of my inten- tion to settle the bulk of my fortune upon him, to receive and consider him as my son, to Willis. You wrote to him ? With. Aye; and often, as Grasp and Mrs. Subtle can testify ; for they saw my letters. But he neglected my commands : nay, did not even deign to notice them. 374 PAUL PRY. At length, by mere accident, I discovered that he was in England, living obscurely in a mean village, married Willis ! and as if to give point and poignancy to his disrespect, without even the form of asking the consent and approbation of me, his only relation, his friend, his bene- factor. Willis. How, sir ! did he not write letter after letter, complaining of your neglect of him ? Did he not entreat, implore your sanction to his marriage ? till wearied at last by your continued silence, he became fully warranted in deciding for himself. With. The goodness of your own nature suggests these excuses for his misconduct. He did, indeed, sometimes write to me, but in such terms, Willis Willis. Where are those letters, sir? With. Mrs. Subtle, in kindness towards the reprobate, destroyed them the moment she read them to me. Willis. She read them ? Did not you, yourself, read them, sir ? With. No, the good soul spared me that pain ; and as Grasp has since told me, she even suppressed the most offensive pas- sages. Willis. Oh, infamy ! With. Aye, question me now what grounds there are for my displeasure ; but when I add that he has disgraced me by his worthless choice, that the woman he is married is : Willis. Hold, sir ! I can hear no more. Your nephew may deserve your bitterest reproaches, but With. Hush ! here comes Mrs. Subtle and Grasp. When you, a stranger to me, can with difficulty restrain your indigna- tion, what must be mine ? Willis. (Aside.) My poor Marian I We must endure this yet awhile. Enter MRS. SUBTLE and GRASP. Mrs. S. Now, sir, it is your hour for walking. I have brought you your hat and cane. With. Ever attentive Mrs. Subtle : thankye, thankye. (To Grasp.) Well, Grasp, have you got that fifty pounds I asked you for ? Grasp. Yes ; but I can't think what you want them for ; I have been plagued enough to procure money for our regular outlayings, and now With. That ought not to be ; for surely I do not spend to the extent of my in- come ; yet when I desire a small sum for any private purpose, you pretend Grasp. Do you suppose that I take your money ? With. No Grasp, but Grasp. You are for ever drawing money for these idle uses. Five pounds for this poor family, ten for that With. Well, well, you are an old ser- vant, and I believe faithfully attached to my interests ; but I wish you would correct your manner. Mrs. S. Indeed, Mr. Grasp, you should endeavour to moderate your tone : to use more respect when you address our good master. [Takes Witherton's hand.] Our kind friend. With. Ah, Mrs. Subtle ! you are a worthy creature ; and one of these days you may find I am not ungrateful. [To Grasp, mildly.} Give that money to Willis; I shall direct him in the disposal of it. Grasp. I had better give up my accounts to him, my place. Till lately, it has been my business to manage your money affairs. However, I have no notion of an inter- loper in the family, and either Mr. Willis, or I, must quit the house. Willis. Do not let me be a source of dis- cord here, sir. Mrs. S. [Artfully interposing between Grasp and Witherton, who is about to speak.] Now now indeed, Mr. Grasp you are wrong [ To him.] You are going too far. [ To With.] Say nothing to him, sir : I will reprove him for this misconduct by and by. With. But to treat me thus, and in the presence of Willis, too ! Grasp, you will do as I desire. Willis, must speak to you on my return. The day is fine, and a walk will do me good. Mrs. S. Will you be very, very much displeased, if I offer you my arm to lean upon, sir ? With. Thankye, Mrs. Subtle, thankye. Come. [ Grasp goes up and gives money to Willis as they are going off".] Enter PRY. Pry. Ha ! How d'ye do this morning. I hope I don't intrude ? With. No, Mr. Pry, no. [^st'de.l How provoking ! [ Mrs. Subtle retires up.\ But have you any thing particular to say to me, just now? Pry. No; nothing particular; only, as PAUL PRY. 375 I have just been to fetch my umbrella, which I left last Monday to be mended Monday no ; it must have been yes, I'm right, it was Monday; I remember it, by a remarkable circumstance ; Mrs. Jones sent a tray of pies to the baker's, on a Monday, mind you. With. And what was there remarkable in that, Mr. Pry ? Pry. Pies on a Monday ! She is not over rich, you know, and as I happened to know she had pies on Sunday I pies two days following, for a person in her circumstances, did seem rather odd, you know. With. Well, that's no business of mine ; and, if you have nothing Pry. No ! only I thought that in my way back, I might as well drop in, and say how d'ye do. I say Mrs. Subtle, you are a judge. I don't think this a dear job for one and nine-pence. [Opens his um- brella.] Mrs. S. I must give him a broad hint, or we shall be pestered with the tedious fool for an hour. Mr. Pry, I beg pardon ; but Mr. Witherton was just going to take his customary walk. Pry. There is nothing so good for the health as walking. [Brings down a chair and sits.] Mrs. S. There ! now he is fixed for the day. Pry. That is to aay, walking in modera- tion. I am a great walker myself; I once brought on a fit of the gout by it ; I did, al- though some people would have it to be nothing but the rheumatiz. I have had the rheumatiz too, and know the differ- ence ; elbows and knees, at the same time. I was in this position for three weeks, I was, I assure you, looking exactly like a goose, ready trussed for roasting. With. Well, good day, you'll excuse me. Pry. Certainly ; if you are going down the road, I'll walk with you. Mrs. S. But we are not, sir. Pry. No matter ; I'll walk with you the other way I have nothing to do. Mrs. S. But we have something to speak about. Pry. Ah ! ha ! Mrs. Subtle, you are a sly one. Wheedle yourself into the old gentleman's good graces, eh ? Mrs. S. Sir ! Pry. Well, don't be angry, I only spoke, you know. With. Come, Mrs. Subtle, come, for we shall now get rid of him. Some other time I shall be glad to see you, Sir. [Exeunt Mrs. Subtle and Witherton.} Pry. Thank ye, I'll drop in again, by and by ; a pleasant walk. Well, Mr. Wil- lis, and how do you do? Willis. Now it is my turn. Pry. I say, Marian, Mrs. Subtle's assist- ant is a very pretty young woman ; I saw you, last night, walking together, by the river side, though you didn't see me. I followed you for nearly half an hour. Willis. Followed us I Pry. I could not, for the life of me, make out what you were talking about. Not difficult to guess, eh ? I don't think it would be quite the match for you, though. Willis. (Aside.) Then he does not sus- pect she is my wife I Pry. After all, she is but a sort of de- puty housekeeper, and I am told you be- long to a respectable family. Tolerable respectable, eh ? Willis. Mr. Paul Pry, if you can make it appear that it concerns you a thou- sandth part of a straw to know, I'll write the history of my birth, parentage and education, for your particular informa- tion. Good morning to you, Mr. Pry. [Exit. Pry. Good morning to you, Mr. Willis, that's an uncommon polite young man. You are bringing him up to succeed you, I suppose, eh, Mr. Grasp ? no bad thing neither ; you must have a very comforta- ble place here. Grasp. Pretty well, as times go. Pry. Tho' from your master taking this small house, economy is the order of the day, I take it, eh ? Grasp. You had better ask my master. Pry. No ; he'd think it impertinent, perhaps. Bless you, it is no business of mine ; only it appears odd neither chick nor child, and, whenever he dies, he'll ut up for a pretty round sum, eh a hun- dred thousand eighty, eh ? and you, you cunning dog I dare say, you have laid by a few thousands. Now, between ourselves, if it is not asking an imperti- nent question. Grasp. Not at all ; [Looks at his watch.] Exactly ten minutes past twelve : so I wish you good morning. [Exit. Pry. That's one of the strangest [Look- ing about.] Well, I can't say it is very 376 PAUL PRY. polite of them to leave me here alone. If I were the least of a bore now, it would be pardonable, but [Looks at his watch.} Well, it is only ten minutes after twelve, I declare. How long the day seems ; what shall I do till dinnertime ? let me see ! I'll just drop in at [Looking off.} Oho! is it so ? aha, my young spark trying the lock of Colonel Hardy s garden gate ! That's very mysterious ! Egad, I'll soon find out what you want there. [Running off and returning.} I had like to have gone without my umbrella. [Exit. SCENE III. Colonel HARDY'S Garden GardenWall. Enter PHEBE. Phe. Oh dear ! oh dear ! here's anoth- er fine day, and not a single cloud in the heavens to give me a hope of the rainy weather setting in. Here, in this stupid village, at fifty miles from London, have Miss Eliza and I been vegetating three eternal months, and as the sky continues so vexatiously bright, and the barometer obstinately pointing at " set fair," I see no chance of a speedy return to dear, de- lightful town. Heigho! This fine sea- son will be the death of me. Enter ELIZA, with a book. Eliza. Heigho! Phe. Heigho ! aye, that is the burthen of our melancholy song. Eliza. What day is this, Phebe? Phe. Who can tell, Miss ? Days are so much alike in this dull place, that it may be yesterday, or to-morrow, for anything there is to mark the difference. Eliza. And has the country no charms for you, Phebe? the spreading foliage, the natural music of the birds, London cries, the sublime spectacle of the rising sun ? Phe. Very fine, I dare say ; but one must get up so early in the morning to see it. Eliza. Early in the morning? when else would you see the sun rise, Phebe ? Phe. Going home from a masquerade, or a ball, late at night, Miss. All that may be very pleasant to a romantic young lady like you, just returned from boarding school ; but for my part, if indeed one had a little agreeable society here JSliea. well, and so we have; there's my Pa, there's Mr. Paul Pry, drops in sometim es Phe, Mr. Paul Pry ! charming company indeed ! [JUimi-cs him.} " If it isn't an im- pertinent question." The last time he was here, he asked me such things that really ! Eliza. Then Mr. Witherton comes to see us occasionally. Phe. When his housekeeper allows him. An old twaddler ! No, Miss, that is not the sort of society I mean. Eliza. What do you mean, Phebe ? Phe. A lover, Miss. Eliza. Oh fie! [They rise.} If my Pa were to hear you talk so. Phe. And were you never in love, then? Eliza. No, Phebe; and my Pa would be very angry if I were to fall in love without his leave. [Aside.} I'm afraid to trust her. Phe. (Aside.) What a yea-nay piece of innocence it is well, Miss, I have no Pa to be angry with me, and if a pretty young fellow were to fall in my way. Eliza. Ha' done, Phebe, I must not hear you talk so; as to company, you know my cousin Frank is coming home from sea in about a week. We have not seen him since he was quite a boy, and he'll be company for us. Phe. And how are we to amuse our- selves for a week ? Eliza. We may read, work, or sing. Phe. And when we are tired of that, to vary our amusement we may sing, work, and read. SONG, " Tfie Lover's Mistake." Ah, me! a country life is unfit for a single woman, and as my last mistress, Lady Courtly, used to say, there are but three circumstances that can render it tolerable to be a married one. Eliza. And what are they? Phe. Hedges very high ; ditches wide and deep ; and a husband passionately fond of hunting. [ A flute heard behind wall. " Tell her I love her." Eliza. \Lets her book drop.} Oh, dear ma ! Phe. What's that? Eliza. That, Phebe ! I suspect it is noth- ing but a flute. [Aside.} lam sure that is his signal. How imprudent for him to come down here. Phe. Nothing but a flute. Now as flutes don't usually play of themselves, I suspect it must be something more. Eliza. Well, Phebe, I I'll confide my PAUL PRY. 377 secret to you ; but you won't betray me. It is my Harry. Phe. So, then, Miss Innocence, you have a Harry of your own. Well done upon my word. And who is your Harry 5 ? Eliza. Harry Stanley, a lieutenant in the navy. Phe. And where could you have be- come acquainted with him ? You have not been from under your father's eye since you were at boarding school, and Eliza. There it was, Phebe ; he used to come there to see his sister Harriet ; and, one day, we fell in love with each other. Phe "(Laughing.} "Oh fie, Phebe, if my Pa were to hear you talk so ; " and pray ain't you ashamed to fall in love without your Pa's leave ? Eliza. No, Phebe, for he's very young, and very handsome. He's only eighteau. Phe. Now, Miss, let me give you a word of serious advice. I won't betray your secret, I promise you ; but let me recom- mend you to mention it yourself to your father, and if the young gentleman should prove a suitable match for you I dare say Eliza. Don't you speak of that. I dare not for the world. First of all, you know my Pa has some other marriage in view for me ; and then he is so passionate and peremptory Phe. And as abrupt and absolute as if he were commanding his regiment. Hardy. \ Within the house. ] Eliza, where are you? Phe. Bless me, here he comes. Eliza. If my Harry should repeat the signal, we shall be discovered. Enter HARDY, from house. Hardy. Eliza, my dear, I expect com- pany to-day. Eliza. Do you, pa? Hardy. My neighbour Witherton, and a young gentleman I expect from London to-day. He is the husband I intend for you. You'll be married in a week. Eliza. So soon, Pa ? Hardy. Aye, and sooner if by chance my nephew Frank should return. I dare say Frank has grown a giant. I long to see the boy ; I have not seen him since he was nine years old. Phe. But I believe, sir, my young lady has never seen the young gentleman you intend for her husband ? Hardy. What of that? she is no worse off than I am. I have not seen him. His father writes me word that he has a son, who is a prodigy. I replied that my daughter is a miracle: the marriage is concluded on, and who dares say any- thing against it? Do you, or do you? Nobody has anything to say against it. So much the better; all parties must be perfectly satisfied. [Takes Eliza's hand.] That's a good obedient girl. Phe. (Aside.) Oh! the sulky thing! I have no patience with her. Beg pardon, sir; but suppose I merely say, suppose Miss Eliza should happen not to love your intended son-in-law ? Hardy. What then ? what is love ? what has love to do with it ? Did I marry her mother for love ? yet we were very happy together ; at least I can speak for myself. I was happy when I married her happy whilst she lived happy when she died : and I've been happy ever since, and that's worth all the love in the universe. Phe. Some folks may not be of your way of thinking, sir. Hardy. Think, indeed, you saucy bag- gage ! what do you mean by thinking ? Who gave you liberty to think ? I allow nobody in my house to think. I am not like old Withertou ; I expect obedience ; so obey, all of you, dy'e hear ? Eliza. But Pa, if I might enquire the gentleman's name Phe. (Aside.) There's an effort. Hardy. Hey-day! a mutiny in the re- giment. If you had not asked, perhaps I'd have told you: now you shall know nothing about it ; you shall not know who he is till you are under the hands of the parson. If you provoke me further, you shall marry him blindfold. May be, never know who he is. But I perceive what this is. [To Phebe.] It is you who have been putting these romantic notions about loving a husband into my girl's head. Phe. Desiring to know who her husband is to be, is mighty romantic, truly. If, in- deed, now, she was to entertain a secret passion for some ardent youth who should serenade her by moon-light. Hardy. She ! she presume to fall in love without my consent ! Look at her, bless her innocent heart ? I tell you what, Miss Phebe, if I hear any more but what was that you said about serenading? That re' minds me who was that playing the flute under my garden wall just now? Phe. How should we know, sir? mosf 378 PAUL PRY. likely some bird-catcher decoying the thrushes. Hardy. Thrushes, indeed! No, no, it was not the thrushes he was decoying. Some flirtation of your's, I dare say, and I won't allow it. Phe. Mine, indeed, sir ! I am no more capable of such a thing than my young lady herself. Hardy. Say no more on the subject. It is setting a bad example to my daughter, and I won't allow it, I tell you. Come in with me, my dear; and hark'ye, Mrs. Phebe, your bird-catcher had better take care I don't catch him. [As he is going, a stone with a letter attached to it, is thrown over the wall.] What's that? Eliza. Oh ! Phebe, what will become of me? Hardy. What's that, I say ! Phe. That sir, why can't you see what it is ? A stone some idle boy has thrown over the wall. Hardy. I say, you idle boy, how dare you throw stones? why there's a letter tied to it. Stand out of the way, and let me have it. No address. Phe. (Aside.) That's fortunate. Give it to me, sir, it is mine. Hardy. Your's, is it ? we shall soon see that. Why, what a scrawl and in pencil too. [Reads.] " Loveliest of your sex." Phe. There, sir, I told you, it was ad- dressed to me. Phe. Tis quite clear, it is not for you, sir ; so give it to me. Hardy. Will somebody stop that girl's tongue ? Let me be [Reads.} " Persua- ded you would recognise the signal, and attend to it, I had determined to scale the garden wall, but am prevented by an impertinent fellow, who is watching my movements. An interview is indispensable, as I have something of the deepest im- portance to communicate. When he is gone, I will return. Has your father" [your father !] " any suspicion of my mutual attachment? Your eternally de- voted " No signature ; so, the case is evident. [To Eliza.] Now, Miss Timi- dity, you with your demure looks you, who have never an answer beyond " yes, Pa," and can scarcely say " Boo, to a goose," what can you find to say to this ? Answer me, who is this bird catcher of yours? speak, I say. Eliza. Indeed, Pa, I Phe. Don't answer, Miss ; if you have any secrets of your own, you may do as you please about it, but you have no right to divulge mine. Hardy. Your's ! Don't attempt to de- ceive me. Her looks convict her. Be- sides, am not I her father mentioned here ? Phe. No, sir, it is my father. Hardy. Your father? How the devil came you by a father ? who ever heard of your father? Phe. I imagine I have as good a right to a father as my betters; at any rate, that letter is mine. The appointment was with me ; and if you was twenty times my master, I would protest against your com- petency to intercept my correspondence. Hardy. W T hy, zounds ! here's a cham- bermaid talking like a member of parlia- ment. But I'll presently come to the truth of this, and if I find you to blame, [To Eliza.] I'll lock you up on brea-1 and water, till you are married ; and your husband shall do the same by you for the rest of your life afterwards. But how to Eroceed? I have it. The fellow, whoever e is, intends to return ; no doubt he is still lurking about. Stay you where you are, don't move, and if either of you utter a sound, or give the slightest signal, wo be to you. [Places the ladder against the wall, mounts, and looks cautiously over. Eliza. Phebe, Phebe, my poor Harry will be discovered, and what are we to do then? Phe. What indeed, Miss ! but it is your own fault. If you had admitted me to your confidence, I could have managed matters much better, I promise you. Hardy. [Descending.] I have him ; there he is crouching on the ground with his eye at the keyhole. He shall find me a more expert bird-catcher than himself for I'll catch him first : and hang me, but I'll salt his tail for him afterwards. [Hardy suddenly opens the garden gate, and dis- covers Pry, in the attitude described. He seizes him by the collar, and drags him.] I have you, you villain. Come in and let me hear what you have to say for your- self; who are you ? What do you want here? Eliza. [To Phebe.] Why, 'tis Mr. Pry. Phe. Then we are safe. Hardy. Speak, I say, who are you ? Pry. You know I can't speak if you choke me. Hardy. I have something worse than choking for you who are you ? PAUL PRY. 379 Pry. Why, don't you know me? Mr. Pry Paul Pry. Hardy. And so it is ; so then you are the bird-catcher, you rascal. Pry. Bless you, no, I'm no bird-catcher, I'm Hardy. And it is thus you abuse my hospitality? Is it for this you are con- stantly dropping in ? Confess the truth, or you shall drop down in where you little expect before you are five minutes older. Pry. What is it you mean ? Hardy. Is it the mistress or the maid ? Pry. Are you out of your senses ? Hardy. You think I'm in the dark ; but I'll convince you, I have detected your intrigue. [Shows the stone.] What's this ? Pry. That! Hardy. No equivocation. What is it ? Pry. Why, I should take it to be a stone. Hardy. Oh, you confess that. And what's this ? [Shows the note. Pry. It looks like a note. Hardy. A note ! very well ! But I have not done with you yet. You have others about you. [Chasing him round.] What have you done with your flute ? Pry. [Presenting his umbrella.] What have you done with your senses ? Phebe. I wonder you are not ashamed of yourself, Mr. Pry, to send letters to me, and compromise a young womanVreputa- tion as you have done. Pry. I upon my life, I never compro- ; mised a young woman since the day I was ! born. Phebe. [Making signs to him. \ If you j mean honorable towards me, speak to my | father, otherwise your playing the flute is but playing the fool, that I can tell you. Pry. Oh, I perceive you mistake me for the young man I surprised just now. Hardy. What what a young man then it wasn't you Pry. Lord, no. I'll tell you all about it. [Familiarly taking Hardy's arm, who indignantly throws him off.~] Hardy. Do then, and be quick. Phebe. Devil take the chattering booby ! Pry. You must know I was coming from Mr. Witherton's, where I had just dropt in to ask him how his tooth was now that's very provoking, I forgot to ask him after all. Hardy. Never mind the tooth now get on with your story. Pry. And just as I was turning the corner, I perceived a young man prepar- ing to climb your wall. The instant he saw me, away he ran oho ! thinks I Hardy. Oh, the tiresome In a word, then, he has escaped. Pry. He ran away, as I said and that's all I know of the matter. Hardy. And what were you doing: there? Pry. Eh ! why, to tell you the truth, I heard a talking here ; and as I could not make out what the meaning of it all was, and one is naturally anxious to know, you know ; I just took the liberty to put my ear to the keyhole, then I put my eye. [Puts his | hand to his eye.] There again ! I shan't I be able to see out of this eye for a week. I hate these plaguy small keyholes, the wind comes through them like a needle. Hardy. So then you confess you have been eavesdropping about my house. Not content with coming inside perpetually to see what is going forward, you must go g;eping, and peeping about outside, arkee, Mr. Pry, you are a busy, med- dling, curious, impertinent Pry. It is not genteel to call names. Indeed, I think you ought to be obliged to me for the discovery. Hardy. And what have you discovered ? But it is your way. You never get hold of a story, but you take it at the wrong end. But for your busy interference, the fellow would have carried his intention into execution, and I should have had him. Pry. Well, I did it for the best ; but if ever I do a good natured thing again ! [Picks up book and returns to garden seat. Hardy. 'Tis clear there is something going forward. [To ELIZA.! But now that my suspicions are excited, I'll watch you closely, and if I find you concerned in it [Leading ELIZA up to house.] Eliza. Indeed, pa Hardy. Well, well, I'm not to be de- ceived, so beware. [Exit ELIZA into house.] As to you, you imp of mischief, I'll answer for it you are in the plot, what- ever it is. Phebe. That is the rule in these cases, the Mistress can do no wrong ; so we, poor ministers of waiting-women, are made the scape-goats. Hardy. [To PHEBE.] You get in ! [Exit PHEBE. [7b PRY, who is seated on the garden ehair reading.] And you get out ! [Opent the door. 380 PAUL PRY. Pry. This is a mysterious affair most mysterious. I shan't sleep a wink till I've discovered what it is all about. Hardy. Are you coming, sir? Pry. Beg pardon, Colonel I wish you a very good morning. [Exit gate. \ Hardy. Good morning, good morning. The meddling blockhead ! Can this have been an assignation with my daughter? No, no, she is too innocent, too artless 'tis some love affair of Phebe's, no doubt. However, I'll have my eye on both of them. [A loud ring at the bell.\ Who's that, I wonder? [Opens the door, and PRY appears at gate. Pry. Beg pardon ! I forgot my um- brella, that's all. Hardy. Plague take you and your um- breila. [Hardy seizes the garden rake, and aims a blow at PRY, who exit hastily at gate.] END OF ACT I. ACT II. SCENE I. A room at WITHERTON'S. Enter WILLIS and MARIAN. Willis. Yet a little forbearance, Mari- an, and all will be well. Marian. Would our fate were decided, for even in my assumed character, I find it difficult to endure the tyranny and inso- lence of Mrs. Subtle. The struggle is se- vere between the affected submission of the supposed dependant, and the real in- dignation of the wife of Edward Somers. Willis. I, too, have; a difficult part to j play. This morning I nearly betrayed j myself to my uncle. His reproaches of me, undeserved as they were, I listened to unmoved but when he would have cen- sured you fortunately at that moment we were interrupted, so our secret is still secure. Marian. Upon the whole, Edward, I cannot but consider this scheme of our friend, Colonel Hardy's, as rather a wild one. Willis. Yet hitherto it has succeeded. Here, as a stranger, and in the character of a humble companion, I have won from my uncle that affection which the in- trigues of an artful woman have diverted from me as his nephew ; you also are no little favorite with him. Thus the main point is gained by the destruction of a prejudice unfavorable to us. Marian. What more have you discov- ered of Grasp and Mrs. Subtle ? Willis. Sufficient to confirm our sus- picions, that letters from and to me, have been intercepted by them. I have reason, too, to believe that Mrs. Subtle's grand project is a marriage with my uncle by the influence she would thus obtain over him, our ruin would be accomplished. Marian. And are there no means of preventing their marriage ? Willis. I fear it will be difficult ; when the affections of a solitary old man, a slave like him to circumstances and habit, are once entangled in the snares of a wily woman, it is no easy task to disengage them. But Tiere she and my uncle come. We must not be seen together. Ha I 'tis too late they are here. Enter WITHERTON, leaning on MRS. SUB- TLE'S arm. Mrs. S. Gently, sir, gently. [To MARI- AN.] What are you doing here ? Why are you not in your own apartment ? Marian. I I was merely talking to Mr. Willis, ma'am. Mrs. S. Leave the room. With. Speak mildly to her, my good Mrs. Subtle ; consider she is young and timid. Mrs. S. Young and timid, indeed ! With. Go, my dear, Mrs. Subtle is a little severe in manner, but she means well. Marian. I obey you, sir. Mrs. S. [In an under tone,] Obey me or count not on a long continuance here begone ! [Exit MARIAN.] Leave her to me, sir [To WITHERTON]. I understand these matters best; \To WILLIS, in a gentler tone,} and you, Mr. Willis, to en- courage a forward chit like that I'm astonished at you. Willis. Indeed, you mistake me. Mrs. S. No matter, leave us. With. Be within call, Willis, I would speak with you presently. Willis. I will, sir. [Mrs. SUBTLE brings a chair forward for WITHERTON, who seats himself.] With. That girl is a favorite of mine, Mrs. Subtle, in her way in her way, I mean. She was strongly recommended to me, by my friend Colonel Hardy, and I am sorry you have conceived so strange an antipathy against her. PAUL PRY. 381 Mrs. S. And I am surprised you are so strongly attached to her. Do you know I am almost I had nearly said a foolish word jealous of her. With. Jealous! Now, Mrs. Subtle, you would banter me. But now we are alone, and secure from interruption, tell me what it is you would consult me upon once, while we were out, you were on the point of speaking, when we were intruded on by that meddling blockhead, Mr. Pry. Mrs. S. Oh, 'tis nothing sir, a trifle. With. You cannot deceive me; some- thing sits heavily at your heart; explain the cause of it you know me for your friend, your sincere friend. Come, speak freely. Mrs. S. Well, then, sir, since I never act in any important matter, but by your direction, I would ask your advice in this, of all others, the most important. With. Goon. Mrs. S. Mr. Grasp, who has long been attentive to me, has at length become importunate for my decision on the ques- tion of marriage. With. Marriage! Take a chair, Mrs. Subtle, take a chair. [She sits. Mrs. S. Yes, sir. Hitherto I have never distinctly accepted, nor have I rejected the offer of his hand ; wearied at length by my indecision, he has this morning insisted on knowing my intentions, one way or the other. With. Well, well. Mrs. S. It is a serious question; my mind is still unsettled; my heart, alas! takes no part in the question. How would you advise me, sir? With. Really, Mrs. Subtle, I was so little prepared for such a communication, that I hardly know Grasp is an honest man a very honest man. Mrs. S. He is a very honest man, yet my own experience has taught me, that a very honest man may be a very very bad husband. Then, although I allow Mr. Grasp to be a very well meaning man his temper With. That is none of the best, certainly. Mrs. S. His manners too not that I believe he would willingly offend, are offensive. Even you, I fear, have observed that, for he has frequently addressed you in a mode which my affection I would say, my respect for you, have induced me to reprove. With. Ke does lack urbanity, I grant. Mrs. S. And to me, that is intolerable, for, notwithstanding my situation here, I can never forget that I am the daughter of a gentleman. Then his taste and hab- its differ from mine. With. These are important objections, Mrs. Subtle, considering that your first husband was as you have told me. Mrs. S. Speak not to me of him, sir, for that reminds me of one of the bitterest periods of my life; yet, spite of Mr. Sub- tie's ill usage of me, I never once forgot the duty and obedience of a wife; but he was young, vain, fickle, and I am too late convinced that it is not till a man is somewhat advanced in life till his senti- ments and habits are formed and fixed, that he can thoroughly appreciate the value of a wife's affection, or so regulate his conduct, as to insure her happiness, and his own. With. That is a very sensible remark, Mrs. Subtle. Mrs. S. My father was an evidence of the truth of it, sir. My father was nearly sixty when he married. With. Indeed! your own father? Mrs. S. Aye, sir, and he lived to the good old age of eighty-seven. But he was happy, and enjoyed a contented mind. How tenderly my poor mother loved him. With. What was her age? Mrs. S. When she married him, about mine, sir. I believe it was the contempla- tion of the picture of their felicity, so constantly before my eyes, that confirmed my natural disposition for the quiet of domestic life. Ah, had I been fortunate in the selection of a partner I With Much everything, depends on that, and I think that Grasp is not alto- gether he is not at all the husband for you. Mrs. S. So my heart tells me, sir ; yet, when I quit your house, would you have me live alone ? without a protector ? With. How ! quit my house ! Mrs. S. Alas, that must, I whether I ac- :ept his proposals or not. Yet let not ;hat distress you, sir, for I doubt not I lope, that when I am gone, my place may supplied by some one equally attentive to your comforts, your happiness. With. Do I hear aright? Quit my louse, and wherefore ? Mrs S. J hardly know in what words to ;ell you ; and, after all, perhaps you will say I am a a silly woman, to regard such 382 PAUL PRY. idle slander. Who can control the tongue of scandal ? My care of you, my atten- tions, my unceasing assiduities, become the subject of remark ; but I had resolved not to mention this to you ; my unwearied attention to you, which is the result of mere duty of friendship perhaps of a sisterly affection, it is said to spring from a deeper a warmer source With. And were it so, dear Mrs. Subtle, are we accountable to a meddling world Mrs. S. Ah, sir, you, a man, strong in the rectitude of your conduct, master of your own actions, master of your own ac- tions I say, and independent of the world, may set at naught its busy slanders. But I, an humble, unprotected woman no, the path of duty lies straight before me ; I must give my hand where I feel I can- not bestow my heart, and for ever quit a house where I have been but too happy. With. Nay, by heaven, but you shall not; must your happiness be sacrificed? mine too ? Ay, mine, Mrs. S. [Rises.} Hold, sir, say no more. Do not prolong a delusion which I am endeavoring to dispel. If I have unwarily betrayed to you a secret, which I have scarcely dared to trust even to my own thoughts ; if I have foolishly mistaken the kindness of a friend, for a more tender sentiment, forgive my presumption, and forgive her who, but for the lowliness of her station, might as an affectionate and devoted wife, have administered to your happiness; who, conscious of her own unworthiness, must soon behold you for the last time. With. Stay, dearest Mrs. Subtle, and listen to your friend, your best and truest friend. First promise me, that here you will remain. Mrs. S. But you have not yet advised me respecting Mr. Grasp's proposal, and I have promised him an immediate reply. With. Attend to what I am about to say, and then, dearest Mrs. Subtle, let your own heart dictate your choice. Mrs. S. \Aside.} Tis done ! With. Were I longer to hesitate, I should be negligent of my own happiness, and unjust towards your merits ; for if an attachment, long and severely tried, were not of itself sufficient to warrant me in [A knock at the door.] Mrs. S. As WITHERTON starts up.] Curse on the interruption, when but ano- ther word had realised my hopes. Enter PAUL PRY. Pry. Oh, ha, I see, billing and cooing, I hope I don't intrude ? Mrs. S. You do, sir. Pry. Well, I am very sorry, but I came to show you the country Chronicle ; there is something in it I thought might interest you ; two columns full about a prodigious gooseberry, grown by Mrs. Nettlebed at the Priory. Most curious ; shall I read it to you ? With. No, you are very good. [Turn* up impatiently.] Pry. I perceive I am one too many. Well now, upon my life. [ Whisper t her,] if I had entertained the smallest idea Mrs. S. What do you mean, sir ? Pry. Bless you, I see things with half an eye ; but never fear me, I'm as close as wax. Now, I say, Mrs. Subtle, between ourselves it shall go no further, there t* something in the wind, eh ? Mrs. S. I don't understand you. Pry. Well, well, you are right to be cautious ; only I have often thought to myself it would be a good thing for both of you, he is rich no one to inherit his fortune, and, by all accounts, you have been very kind to him, eh ? Mrs. S. Sir ! Pry. I mean no harm, but take my ad- vice; service is no inheritance, as they say. Do you look to number one ; take care to feather your nest. You are still a young woman, under forty I should think, thirty-eight now here, or thereabouts, eh ? Mrs. S. My respect for Mr. Witherton forbids me to say that his friend is im- pertinent. With. This intrusion is no longer to be borne. Have you any particular business with me, Sir? Pry. Yes, you must know, I've seen a young fellow lurking about your friend Hardy's house, and I suspect there is something not right going forward in his family. With. That is his business, not mine, sir. Pry. True, but I have been thinking that as you are his friend, it would be but friendly if you were just to drop in, and talk to him about it. With. That is my business, and not yours. Pry. I don't say the contrary, but at all events, I'm determined to keep watch over PAUL PRY. With. That is your business, therefore you may do as you please : yet let me suggest to you, that this unhappy pro- pensity of yours to meddle in matters which do not concern you, may one day or other produce very mischievous effects. Pry. Now I take that unkindly ; what interest have I in trying to do a good- natured thing ? am I ever a gainer by it ? But I'll make a vow that from this time forward I'll never interfere. Hush I there he is again ; will you do me a favour ? just allow me to go out this way. With. Any way out you please. Pry. I'll give the alarm, and if I let him escape this time Follow ! follow ! follow 1 [Exit. HARRY STANLEY runs on at the back. Harry. Confound him ! the same offi- cious booby again. Pry. [ Without.] Now, my lively spark, I'll have you. Harry. Egad, you shall run for it then. [Runs off, PRY after him. With. What can be the meaning of all this ? That busy fellow's interruption has thrown all my ideas into confusion. Mrs. S. Be composed, sir, take a chair, and let us resume Enter GRASP abruptly. Well, what is it you want, Mr. Grasp ? Grasp. You ! With. Mrs. Subtle is engaged just now. Grasp. No matter, she must come with me, I have something to say to her. Mrs. S. I'll come to you presently. Grasp. You must come at once. I am not to be made a dupe come, Mr. Willis is waiting to see you in the Library, sir now, Mrs. Subtle, if you please. With. Return quickly, dear Mrs. Subtle- and promise nothing till you have again consulted me. Mrs. S. I will obey you, sir ; you see how easily we poor weak women are diverted from our better resolutions. [Exit WITHERTON. He is mine. What can have angered Grasp ? near as are my schemes to their completion, yet might one word from that man destroy them all. Has he overheard us? does he suspect what is my project? I must contrive still to evade him, till I have made Witherton securely mine. Then let him do his worst. SCENE II A Boom at HARDY'S. Cries without of "follow / follow ! " Enter ELIZA and PHEBE. Eliza. Oh, Phebe ! Phebe I what can be the cause of all this confusion ? Phebe. Confusion, indeed, Miss, one would think the very de Old Harry had broke loose. Eliza. Old Harry, Phebe I'm very much afraid it's young Harry. Phebe. You see now the consequences of your imprudence, Miss. Eliza. If it should really be my poor Harry, and my 'pa should discover him. Phebe. Mercy on us all ; and now that his suspicions are awakened, and his anger excited by this morning's adven- ture, he will be less tractable than ever. [ Cries of follow ! follow I Enter HARRY STANLEY, at the window. Harry. Any port in a storm. So here I am. What, my sweet little Eliza here I this is beyond my hopes. Eliza. Oh, Mr. Stanley, how could you be so imprudent] Harry. Now, my dear, sweet, pretty, little Eliza, don't be angry with me allow me a minute to recover breath, and I'll tell you all about it. This run has been a breather. Phebe. What a pretty little fellow he is I I should have no objection to just such another little lover for myself. Eliza. But tell me quickly, how came you here ? Harry. By no very smooth path, I pro- mise you. By scaling a twelve foot wall leaping across a canal, climbing an apple tree, and so in at the first floor window. Eliza. But why venture to come into the house ? Harry. Why? once over the garden wall, egad, I had no time to choose : my mamsuvre was detected by that same prying scoundrel, who prevented our interview this morning. Let him fall in my way, and I'll snip his ears for him. He gave the alarm, and in an instant every servant in the place, to the very dairy maid, was in full chase of me. I flew like a skiff before the wind, and cleared the canal at a leap. None of my pursuers could weather that point; so rinding myself a few minutes ahead of them, and perceiving that windoly open, I made all sail for it as my only chance of escape, and here I am. ?84 PAUL PRY. Phebe. You have escaped with a ven- geance. Do you know, sir, where you are? Harry. In the presence of my darling little Eliza, and where else could I be so happy? Eliza. Did you hear that, Phebe ? * Phebe. Pooh ! nonsense we are all on the very brink of ruin, and there he is quietly talking about being happy. You must instantly quit this place so get out how you can. [Goes up to the window. Harry. No, no, I have had so much trouble to get in, that I'll not get out again till I have explained my errand. Eliza. What Phebe says is true, if my 'pa should come Phebe. They are on a wrong scent, so you are safe for a few minutes, but speak quickly. Harry. First tell me, when do you ex- pect your cousin Frank ? Eliza. Not for a week. Harry. That will be too late ; as Frank who is my old shipmate and friend, would have interceded for us with your father. Phebe. But since he is not here, what next do you propose? Harry. Boldly to ask the Colonel's con- sent. Phebe. Which he will refuse. Harry. So I expect, and I am prepared accordingly. Now I have a most impor- tant question to ask you. Pray, ladies, are you fond of travelling? Eliza. What an odd question I Harry. I have just seen in Doubledot's yard the prettiest yellow postchaise in the world. [Puts his arm round their waists. J It will just hold us three as comfortably as if it had been made for us. We clap four horses to it, visit the blacksmith, get married, and then let our 'pas unmarry us, if they can. Eliza. Lord ! Harry, that would be run- ning away, and I must not think of such a thing. Jrhebe. Oh, that somebody would make me such an offer ! Harry. Eunning away! look at me, I've just been running away, and I am nothing the worse for it. Eliza. You! Harry. I had scarcely arrived at my father's house when the old gentleman told me of some dowdy of his own choos- ing, whom he intended I should marry. I ventured a respectful remonstrance ; het swore I should marry her : if I do, sir says I, I'll be [PHEBE stops his mouth.] So I cut short the argument, by mounting a horse and galloping down here. Phebe. Then I'd advise you to remount him and gallop home again, for my young lady is in a precisely similar situation. The Colonel has provided a husband for her, and Harry. In that case an elopement is our only resource, and if our dear 'pas are de- termined on marriage, we'll force them to marry one another. Phebe. That's all verypine; but you must go; so take the opportunity whilst the coast is clear. You are a very imprudent young gentleman, and I foresee mischief, unless I take the management of this affair into my own hands. If you would have me for your friend, begone at once, and I'll do all I can to serve, you. Harry. You are a good little girl, and if I don't contrive to find you a husband too [To ELIZA.] One kiss, and I'm gone. I must not forget my little Bridget Abi- gail what's your name ? [Kisses PHEBE. Phebe. Phebe! Phebe I there, sir, that will do. Eliza. [Dragging him away] There, Phe- be says, that will do ; so you had better go, Harry. [As he is going, HARDY speaks without. Hardy. Don't leave a bush or bramble unsearched. Let loose Jupiter and Bac- chus ; and whosoever the villain is, bring him before me, dead or alive. Phebe. There's a pretty business ! The Colonel is coming quick jump out of the window, 'tis the way you came in. Harry. But coming and going are two different things, Mrs. Phebe ; no, I'll re- main here, and .declare my intentions. Eliza. Oh, no I wouldn't have my 'pa see you for the world. Phebe. Here, quick, this way. She pushes him into the room and stands before the door. Eliza. What have you done ? Consider, that is my room. Phebe. No matter, Miss ; we'll conceal him there till your father is gone; and then I'll contrive to get him away. Enter HARDY with brace of pistols. Hardy. [Speakiny off.} Stand you at the staircase; and the first person that at- empts to pass without my orders, fire. This time he shall not escape me. So, PAUL PRY. SSS here you are what have you to say for yourself? Which of you is the culprit? Phebe. What do you mean, sir ? Hardy. But I perceive there she stands, pale and trembling. Come hither, and tell me who he is. Eliza. Indeed, 'pa, you frighten me so, I cannot speak. Hardy. Frightened ! How dare you be frightened when your tender, kind old father speaks to you? Zounds, am I Bluebeard, or the Grand Turk ? But tell who he is, I say. Phebe. Who, sir ? Hardy. A man has been seen to come over my garden wall. Phebe. Ha, ha, ha, and is that all ? So for that the whole house is in an uproar ; as if the orchard had never been robbed before. Hardy. What, at noon-day ? Phebe. Why, then, sir, 'tis some visitor of your own, perhaps. Hardy. Would any visitor of mine come scrambling over the wall, when I have a door to my house ? But they'll catch him, and then Come hither, Phebe, and tell me the truth, if my daughter has deceived me, and spare me the mortification of ex- posing her misconduct in the presence of every menial in my service. Eliza. [Aside.] Don't betray me, Phebe. Phebe. You are so passionate, sir, that even if I knew [Cries of follow t follow, and noise of barking of dogs. Pry [ Without window, in flat.] Would you murder me, you hard-hearted mon- ster? Hardy. They have him they have him. Pry. [ With one foot at the window, and speaking off. \ Don't fire ! I'm a friend of the family, I tell you. Oh, if I do but es- cape with my life ! [Hardy points pistol at [Pry. Pry tumbles in. Phebe. Then we are saved again. Hardy. So, this is the second time I have you. Now what rigmarole story can you invent? Pry. Let me go there's a mistake I'm not the man I'm your friend. I was coming this way, intending to drop in, when Hardy. My friend, indeed ! [Places pistols on table.] How dare any friend of mine drop in at the first floor window ? Pry. If you doubt my friendship, see what I have suffered in your service. [Turns about and shows his clothes torn.] V Hardy. Explain yourself. Pry. I have been hunted like a stag, and nearly sacrificed like a heathen to the fury of Jupiter and Bacchus; and all owing to a mistake. I saw a strange man climb over your wall ; and being naturally anxious to know what he could want, I followed him, gave the alarm, and Phebe. Why, this is the same story he told us this morning, sir. Hardy. And so it is. Why this is the same story you told me this morning. Harkee, sir, if you find no better excuse for your extraordinary conduct, I shall forget you are my neighbor, act in my quality of magistrate, and commit you for the trespass. I find you entering my house in a very suspicious manner Pry. Well, if ever I do a good natured turn again. Let me tell you, Colonel, you are treating me like a phoenix ; a thing I am not used to. Hardy. What do you mean by treating you like a phoenix? Pry. Tossing me out of the frying-pan into the fire. What I tell you is true. I gave the alarm, but the fellow was so nimble that he escaped ; while your ser- vants, seeing me run as if I had been run- ning for a wager, mistook me for the man, set the dogs after me, and in short, I am well off to have escaped with my life. Hardy. If this is true, what has become of the other ? the gates are closed, and Pry. He's safe enough, I'll answer for it. Though I could not overtake htm, I never lost sight of him. [Observing a signal made by PHEBE.] O ho I that ex- plains the mystery, some swain of Mrs. Phebe's. Hardy. What has become of him, I say? I'll not be trifled with you are the only trespasser, I discover, and you I will commit, unless Pry. Oh, if that's the case, you need not nod and wink at me, ladies ; the mat- ter is growing serious, and I have already suffered sufficiently. He's here, Colonel, I saw him get in at that window. Phebe. On, the wretch ! a likely story, a man get in at that window and we not see him ; why we have not been out of the room this half-hour, have we, Miss ? Hardy. Do you hear that ? a likely story indeed ! If you saw him, describe him. Pry. Describe him ! how can I describe him ? I tell you he was running like a 26 386 PAUL PRY. grayhound ; he didn't wait for me to take his portrait. He got up at that window, and I'll swear he didn't get down again, BO here he must be. [ Walks up and round the room, and lookt under sofa and table. Phebe. It is a pity, Mr. Pry, you have no business of your own to employ you. Ay, that's right, look about here. You had better search for him in my young lady's reticule. [Snatches reticule from ELIZA. Pry. Stand aside, Mrs. Phebe, and let me Phebe. Why, you abominable person that is Miss Eliza's room ; how dare you open the door? [Throwing him round by collar. Hardy. You abominable person! how dare you open my daughter's room door ? [Throwing him round by collar. Pry. If there's no one concealed there, why object? Hardy. True, if there's no one concealed there, why object ? Phebe. I wonder, sir, you allow of such an insinuation. [Places herself at the door.] No one shall enter this room ; we stand here upon our honor; and if you suspect my young lady's, what is to be- come of mine, I should like to know? Pry. Can't possibly say; but I would advise you to look after it, for I protest there he is. Hardy. [Endeavoring to suppress his anger.] Sir, you are impertinent. It can- not be, and I desire you will quit my house. Simon 1 [Goes up to the door. Enter SlMON. Simon ; open the door for Mr. Pry. Phebe. Simon ; you are to open the door for Mr. Pry. Pry. Oh I I dare say Simon hears. I wish you good morning I expected to be asked to dinner for this at least this is the most mysterious I say, Simon ! \Exit, whispering SlMON. Hardy. [ Who has taken a brace of pis- tols from a case in the table.] I would not have him appear in the presence of that busy fool ; but now, whoever he is, he shall answer this outrage to me. Eliza. Oh, 'pa, for heaven's sake, I'll tell you the truth. Phebe. Yes, sir, we will tell you. [Aside.] What shall I say ? Hardy. Tell me at once, hussy is there a man in the room ? Phebe. Why then, sir, there is a sort of a young man, to be sure but Hardy. But what? Phebe. But don't be angry, for he is the prettiest little fellow you ever saw. Hardy. A little fellow ? A man is con- cealed in my house, and because he hap- pens not to be the Irish giant, I must not be angry. Oh ! that my nephew, Frank, were at home : but I'm still young enough 4-/-v Phebe. Stay, sir, stay [Aside.] Any thing to gain time, and prevent murder. You have guessed it, it is your nephew, Mr. Frank. Hardy. What, Frank ? my boy, Frank ? Phebe. Yes, sir, arrived a week earlier than was expected. We, Miss Eliza and I, sir we were in the secret, and had planned a little surprise for you, but that eternal Mr. Pry spoiled it. Hardy. [Places pistols on the table.] Oh, you wicked little rebels, to cause me all this uneasiness but let me see the dear boy let me Phebe. Stop, sir, I'll just inform him that Hardy. Don't detain me an instant. [Going towards the door.] What, Frank, come to your old uncle, you dog ; why zounds ! what is he at now ? scarcely is he in at one window, but he is preparing to jump out at another. [Exit. Eliza. Phebe, what have you done ? my 'pa must soon detect the imposture, and then Phebe. Lord, Miss, what would have been the consequence if the Colonel, in that storming passion, and with pistols in his hand, had been told the truth. We may yet get your Harry safe out of the house, and then hush ! Enter HARDY, pulling in HARRY STAN- LEY. Hardy. Come, Frank, an end to this foolery. Phebe has explained it all to me : I'm devilish glad to see you, and that is worth all the surprises in the world. Harry. Sir I what is the meaning of this? Phebe. We have told your unexpected arrival, Mr. Frank Hardy. Harry, [Aside.] Oho ! my uncle ; 'gad, then, I'll soon make myself one of the family. [Shakes hands very heartily with HARDY. PAUL PRY. 88? Hardy. But let me look at you, you rogue; I have not seen you since you were a mere urchin. As Phebe says, he is a pretty little fellow, But I say, Frank, you don't take after the family. Your father was a tall man : all tall men in our family. Harry. Why, I am not positively a giant, uncle ; but what does that signify ? Nelson was a little fellow like myself so not an inch taller will I grow. Hardy. Ah, ha, you are a wag. But tell me Frank, when you found yourself pursued, and in danger of a drubbing from my servants, why didn't you at once discover yourself to be my nephew ? Harry. Eh to say the truth, that nev- er once occurred to me. Hardy. Well, your secret was in good hands with the girls. I was in a thun- dering passion to be sure your poor cousin has scarcely yet recovered from her agitation, Harry. Ah, sir, I know not how I shall atone to my cousin for the embarrassment my thoughtlessness has occasioned her. Eliza. I'll never, never forgive you. Hardy. What's that I hear? when I have forgiven his wild sailor prank, how dare any body Go, Frank, give your cousin a kiss, or I'll storm the house about your ears. Harry. Not through any disobedience of mine, uncle. [Grosses, and kisses ELIZA. Eliza. Ha' done, Mr. Stan ha' done, cousin, that will do. [Aside.] I'm glad he is obedient to 'pa, though. Phebe. [ Wiping her lip-tj] My master is right, since he is satisfied, there is no rea- son why any one else should be angry. Harry. And you too, my pretty Phebe : your lips are as full of forgiveness as mine are of repentance, I'll answer for it. [ Kiss- es PHEBE.] Hardy. Gome, cosie, Frank, you are for- given. L4sirfe.l I must look close after the young dog, or I foresee we shall have him asking pardon of all the maids in the house. Now, Frank [Frank crosses to HAKDY.] I have news for you. Eliza is soon to be married. Harry. Married, sir? Hardy. Married, ay, married. I was re- solved to defer the ceremony till your re- turn. So now you are here Harry. That was very kind ; and when- ever Eliza marries, you may be sure I will be at the wedding. And pray, sir, who is the happy man ? Hardy. What is that to you ? I know, and that is sufficient for all parties. Harry. Certainly, sir ! but pray, does my cousin love him ? Hardy. No, but she may if she likes. I'm not one of those tyrannical fathers who would control the affections of their children. No, no, I leave my daughter sole mistress of her inclinations; free either to love her husband, or to leave it alone, as she thinks best Harry. How indulgent a parent. Now, suppose, sir, I should object to your ar- rangement ? Hardy. You object, you jackanapes! Harkee, it is rather the soonest for you and I to quarrel now, that we may remain friends, you will please to recollect, that although I am willing to listen to reason, argument, and advice, it must proceed from those who have the good sense to be exactly of my way of thinking. But, if any one dare contradict or oppose me, I no I am not like my poor friend Wither- ton, I am lord, master, and sovereign arbi- ter in my own family. Harry. [To ELIZA, aside.] Then our only hope is the yellow post-chaise. Hardy. But come, Frank, your flying leaps must have given you an appetite ; so follow me and take a snack. Harry. I'll follow you, sir. [Exit HARDY. My dear Phebe, what could induce you to risk such an imposition upon the Colonel ? we cannot long escape detection. Phebe. As you said, sir, when you came in at the window, "Any port in a storm." And such a storm as we should have had if you had been abruptly discovered in your own character Harry. Well, here I am installed as your cousin : it will be very pleasant as long as it lasts ; but I fear we shall pay dearly for it in the end. Eliza. I tremble to think of the conse- quences. Harry, what colour did you say was Mr. Doubledot's post-chaise ? Harry. The prettiest runaway colour imaginable will you go and look at it T Phebe. Nonsense, nonsense, we must do nothing rash. Your cousin, the real Mr. Frank Hardy, will not be here for a week, so we have plenty of time for considera- tion. Why, I declare, here is Mr. Pry again I [PKY appears at the door. S88 PAUL PRY. Pry. There he is. A most extraordinar circumstance. The letter is a good excus for my return. [Aside Eliza. Why he is making signs at me. Harry. The devil he is ; he shall answe that to me. What do you want, sir ? Pry. Nothing. Harry. Lookye, Mr. Scout. I owe you a round dozen for sailing in chase of me this morning: now, explain the signal you were hanging out to my own dear little to my cousin, Miss Hardy or Pry. Your cousin? So then you are th nephew from sea, after all. My dear sir you are welcome to England. Harry. Come, sir, no evasion ; explain or overboard you go. | Pointing to the window Pry. Holloa ! well, this comes of doing a civil thing. Harry. Come, come, sir, be quick, or you'll find me as good as my word. Pry. There then, since you will have it. [Gives ELIZA a letter.] I intended to give it to you mysteriously; but hang me if I ever do a good natured thing again. Eliza. [Looking at it.] There was no need of mystery, sir. [To HARRY.] It is from my cousin Frank but how came this letter in your possession? It ought to have been delivered by the postman. Pry. No matter I am always in the wrong. Phebe. But how came you by it all ? Pry. Because, &c. Eliza. Why, it is a week old. Pry. That it is, because I promiscuous- ly forgot it. Because I am a good na- tured fool, and do all I can to oolige. I met the postman the other day, and as I always make it a rule to inquire who has letters, I found there was one for you ,-- and I thought it would be but civil if I brought it to you. Phebe. Where the deuce was the civili- ty of your doing what the postman must have done ? Pry. Where ? why he had his rounds to go ; so that Miss Eliza would have her letter five minutes earlier than by waiting for him, if it had not slipped my memory for a week. Eliza. [ Who has been reading the letter.] Heavens ! it is all over with us, Phebe ; my cousin Frank will really be here to- day. This letter was to apprise us of his arrival a week sooner than we expected. Phebe. There ! now is our only hope, which was in leisure for deliberation, de- stroyed and through his interference again. If he had not kept that letter in his pocket for a week, we should have been prepared for your cousin's arrival: and our present difficulty, at least, would have been prevented. Enter SIMON. Simon. [To HARRY.] My master waits for you, sir, and is growing impatient. Harry. I'll come. Let us go to the Colonel. I'll devise some excuse for leaving him intercept Frank on his way hither enlist him in our cause and then throw ourselves on your father's mercy. Phebe. I wish you joy of his mercy when he discovers the trick we have played him. Eliza. Mr. Pry, if you did but know Phebe. [Interrupting her.] Nothing. Simon, Mr. Pry is waiting till you open the door for him again. Harry. And Mr. Pry may consider himself fortunate [Pointing to the win- dow,] that I have not spared you that trouble, Simon. [Exeunt HARRY, ELIZA and PHEBE.] Pry. Well, I have done my utmost to serve this worthy family ; and all I have gained by it is So, Simon, the young spark turns out to be your master's neph- ew, after all ? Simon. [Pointing off.] Now, sir, if you please. Pry. He intends that as a hint, I sup- pose. Well, that letter appeared to per- )lex them. I shan't be able to rest till I lave come to the rights of it. Ecod ! :'ll go down to Doubledot's, and just in- [uire whether he happens to know any hing about it. [Exit SIMON and PRY. END OP ACT II. ACT III. ICENE I. A Room at DOUBLEDOT'S. PAUL PRY discovered, dangling a news- paper, and at intervals, during his speech, he examines the books and different arti- cles about the room. Pry. Well, Doubledot does not return. )ut, out, from morning till night. What an he have to do out ? No wonder the reen Dragon carries all before it but if nen won't attend to their business. Counts a score.] Two and twenty. Upon PAUL PRY. 389 my life, it is very discreditable to run such a score at a public house : who can it be ? marked with an S s. I'll lay my life it is Mrs. Sims that woman owes money at every shop in the village. DOUBLEDOT speaks without. Doub. This way, sir, if you please. Pry. Oh, at last. A traveller with him I wonder who he is. Enter DOUBLEDOT and FRANK HARDY. Doub. [ Very obsequiously at first, but gradually relaxing in his civility.] This way, sir will you please to take any thing after your journey ? frank. No, nothing. Doub. Will you order your dinner now, sir? frank. I shall not dine here. Let my luggage be brought into the house, and remain here for the present. [Sits at table. Doub. Ah ! a precious customer. A glass of water and a tooth-pick. [Aside. Pry. I say, Doubledot a good quantity of luggage for one person. He is alone- Do you happen to know who he is ? Double. No but you very soon will. I'll answer for it. [Exit. frank. Now to proceed to my old uncle's. After an absence of so many years, I shall scarcely be recognized by him. As for Eliza, who was a mere child at the period of my departure Pry. [ Who has seated himself at table and taken up a newspaper.] Pleasant journey, sir? Frank. Very pleasant, sir- Pry. From London, sir? Prank. No, sir. Fry. O, not from London. Stay long .In these parts, sir ? Frank. Quite uncertain, sir. A tolerably inquisitive fellow, this. Pry. [Aside.] Shy don't like him something mysterious about him. I a determined to find out who he is. B - pardon, sir, if I'm not mistaken your name is a Frank. You are right, sir, Snooks. Now, sir, allow me to ask you a question. Is it far hence to Colonel Hardy's ? Pry. Oh, you know him. Do you hap- pen to know his nephew, who has just come from sea ? Frank. Come coming, you mean. Pry. Come, I tell you. He arrived this morning. Frank. What, his nephew, Frank Hardy? Pry. The same. I saw him with my own eyes. Come in a very odd way too. [Aside.] The intelligence appears to per- plex him. Frank. [Aside.] What can this mean ? a person there assuming my name ! doubt- less some piece of roguery is intended, which my timely arrival may prevent. I'll find some future pretence for visiting the family as a stranger, and observe what is going forward before I declare myself. Pry. [Aside] An adventurer? Frank. The Colonel, I believe, sir, en- joys a reputation for hospitality. Do you imagine he would refuse the visit of a stranger? a gentleman travelling for his pleasure, who wishes to be favoured with a view of his grounds his pictures. Pry. [Hesitating.] No, sir. [Aside.] A travelling gentleman the case is clear. Frank. There is no time to be lost, sir. I must be plain with you. It is my inten- tion to pay Colonel Hardy a visit ; the object of that visit is important, and that it may succeed, the utmost secrecy and caution are requisite. Pry. Indeed. [Aside.] Very cool, upon my word. Frank. To use your own expression, " beg pardon if I am mistaken " [Shaking his cane at Pry] but you appear to me to be one of those good-natured, inquisitive, officious persons, who abound in such places as this. Now if you mention to any soul breathing that you have seen me, you may have cause to repent your indis- cretion. [Exit. Pry. Sir, yours. Not the shadow of a doubt what sort of a gentleman he is. Yet he looks like a gentleman but what of that? every pickpocket now-a-days is de- scribed as a youth of prepossesssing appearance, and every disorderly woman taken before a magistrate, is sure to be young and interesting. Now, what ought I to do in this case ? I have to interfere with other people's business. Yet, in a matter like this I'll take a short cut to the house beforehand with the travelling gentleman, put the Colonel on his guard, and for once force him to acknowledge the value of my service. [ Exit. SCENE II. At HARDY'S. Same as in Act IT. Enter HARDY, MARIAN, and WILLIS. Hardy. What ! marry his housekeeper J 890 PAUL PRY. marry mother Subtle 1 The old fool! The old dotard 1 Oh, that I were his father for one quarter of an hour, that I might enjoy the paternal gratification of breaking every bone in his body. Willis. Fortunately the evil is not yet accomplished, and your interference may prevent it. Hardy. But how did you learn this ? Willis. My suspicions long existing of such an intention, were confirmed by a desperate altercation between Grasp and Mrs. Subtle, which I have just had the good fortune to overhear. Grasp having detected her schemes upon my uncle, and enraged at her duplicity towards himself, threatened, even at the peril of his own ruin, to expose the intrigues she had so long carried on against me. Mrs. Subtle, presuming on her strong influence over Mr. Witherton, scoffed at his menaces, dared him to do his worst, and defied him to the proof of his accusation, till Grasp hinting at certain letters which unknown to her he had preserved, she instantly moderated her haughty tone, promised compliance with any arrangement he might propose, and once more I believe they are friends. Hardy. Friends ! accomplices you mean. But let me see, what's to be done? First do you return, both of you, and Marian. I wish that could be avoided. Mrs. Subtle already assumes the mistress, and has expressed her determination to dismiss me, and Hardy. That will do. You shall take her at her word. You shall remain con- cealed here for awhile ; egad, and so shall you, Somers. Willis. To what purpose, sir? Hardy. Leave it to me. 'Tis here, 'tis here [Striking his forehead.] Go in my study ; there you will be free from obser- vation: no one dares go there without my leave. I'll come to you presently, and dictate a letter you shall send to Witherton, which, if it does not bring him to his senses, he is incorrigible. Willis. How shall we thank you for the interest you take in our behalf? Hardy. By leaving me to myself for a few minutes. I have my hands full of business already. Here is a letter I have just received from an old friend, relative to a runaway son of his ! then there's my nephew, Frank, who is returned. But go, go if my daughter, or her chattering maid, should see you here together, 1 would not give you five minutes purchase for your secret. Marian. We will act implicitly by your advice, sir. Hardy. Do so, and I will yet blow all Mrs. Subtle's schemes no matter where. [Exit MARIAN and WILLIS.] Now just let me look at old Stanley's letter again, before I communicate its contents to my nephew. [Reads.] " My boy Harry, who is a hair-brained, harem-scarem fellow, mounted horse, and galloped away, the moment I mentioned a wife for him of my choosing. He has been met on the road towards your place, and I suspect that, notwithstanding our secrecy, he has discovered who the girl is, and has a mind to see her before he positively rejects her. Should this be the case, and he fall in your way, pray do you humour his in- cognito, for no doubt he has adopted one, and detain him till my arrival, which will speedily follow your receipt of this." Ah, this is very pretty, but what right has any man to come and look at my daughter : to take her, or leave her, as he would a horse? My Lizzy is a wife for an emperor; I know it, that's enough, and I won't allow any man to [Calls out of window.] Here, you Frank, I want you [FRAHK within.] Coming sir! Coming sir, then why the devil don't you come. There, he is, tied to the woman's apron strings. Hang me, if I have been able to keep him with me, during three consecutive quarters of a minute since he has been here. Enter HARRY STANLEY, ELIZA and PHEBE, hanging on each arm. Harry. Did you call me, sir? Hardy. Yes, but I didn't call all three of you. Yet here you go about with your heads together, like three conspirators, as if you were hatching another gunpowder treason. Harry. Can you be surprised at my preferring the company of my dear, little cousin, to yours, sir? But what have you to say to me, sir ? Hardy. Something that touches the honour of us all- Yours, yours and [ Tk PHEBE.] even yours, if you have any re- spect for your mistress. Harry. [Aside.] Am I discovered? Hardy. I have reason to believe that a certain person is in this neighborhood, PAUL PEY. 391 cruising under false colours, as you would call it. Harry. Ah, sir, then I suppose you ex- pect that he should face to the righl about, and beat a retreat, as you would call it. Hardy. No, you jackanapes, I neither expect nor intend any such thing. I in- tend to humour the deception, and then take him by surprise. Phebe. [Aside.} You have hut one chance for it, sir, confess at once confess. Harry. Our only hope, I believe. Then what if he should confess his error, ask Eardon for his indiscretion, and throw imself on your mercy. Hardy. Why then I should say, take my daughter, and may you be happy to- gether. Harry. Would you, sir, why then [Taking ELIZA by the hand and turning towards him. Hardy. But not so fast. You don't know your uncle, yet, Frank. I'll first Sunish him for his impertinence. How are he, when it is settled that he shall marry my Lizzy, presume to have a choice of his own ? And because he has not yet seen her, how dare he Eliza. Not yet seen me ! who are you talking about, 'pa? Hardy. Your intended husband to be sure, Mr [SiMON enters. Simon. Mr. Paul Pry. Hardy. Confound Mr. Paul Pry I Eter- nally that Mr. Paul Pry. My compli- ments, and I am not at home. [Exit SI- MON.] I guess what his important busi- ness is likely to be. He comes to look for a shoestring, or tell me some nonsen- sical event that has occurred in the neigh- borhood. Pi-y. [ Without.] Pooh, pooh, this is no time for ceremony, so see him I must. Phebe I am superstitious about that Mr. Pry. A winding-sheet in the candle, or spilling the salt, is less ominous of evil, than the approach of that man. Enter PAUL PRY. Pry. Colonel, you must pardon the in- trusion, but I come to tell you Hardy. Well, be quick, Whose cat in the village has kittened ? How many blind puppies have your neighbors irowned? Come, inflict upon me the full and true uarticulars, and make an end of it Pry. Colonel, I don't understand. There is treason and a plot in the wind, and I came like a good-natured fool as I am, to put you on your guard. But there is no time to spare. He is now on his way hither. Hardy. He ! and who is he ? and what is he? Pry. An impostor an adventurer or something of that mysterious nature. A travelling gentleman, as he calls himself. He has just arrived, and luckily for you, I have wormed his intentions out of him. Hardy. Well, well, and what are his intentions? Pry. To get iuto your house under pre- tence of seeing your pictures looking at your grounds Hardy. [Aside.] That's my man. Well, and what is there so extraordinary in that? Pry. Oh, nothing. But when a man talks about the object of his visit requir- ing the utmost secrecy and caution when he asks suspicious questions Hardy. What do you call suspicious questions ? Pry. First, he asked me whether you are of a hospitable turn, which I take to be very suspicious. If you had but seen him when I told him of the arrival of your nephew, Mr. Frank ; he staggered absolutely staggered. " What his ne- phew !" says he, " Frank Hardy !" Eliza. [ To STANLEY.] Surely this must be my cousin Frank. Harry. I'll away, and prepare him. Phebe. No, leave that to me. My ab- sence will not be remarked. [Exit. Hardy. Pray, did he mention his name ? Pry. Name? Bless you, these fellows have a name for every town in the king- dom. He calls himself Snooks-^but Lord bless you Hardy. [Aside.] The cautious rogue But I'll be even with him. No no, it isn't my pictures he comes to see. Pry. You may well say that [Aside.^ This time, however, he will acknowledge bis obligations to me. Hardy. Now, Mr. Pry, it is proper I should tell you, that I was already pre- pared for this visit. I know who the per- son is, and have most serious reasons for lumouring his frolic. I know you to be a busy, meddling, talkative person, and herefore warn you, that if you breathe a hint of having put me on my guard, at *92 PAUL PRY. you call it you know me, so I need say no more. Pry. Well, between the two Colonel Hardy, you are a magistrate and I I haven't a shilling about me, or I'd make oath in your presence never to do a good- natured thing again whilst I live. [Exit. Harry. [Aside.] If I could but see him. Hadn't I better go and inquire into the truth of this, sir ? That blundering booby confuses every thing. Hardy. No, sir, you will please stay where you are. [Grosses to ELIZA.] This is he, my love this Mr. Snooks, as he calls himself, is the person you are to marry. Jbliza. Oh, papa, and would you have me marry a man with such a name? I could not if he were a lord. Hardy. No, my dear, no that is not his name. I may tell you now his name is no, I won't. His project in this in- cognito, and mine in humouring it, might both be defeated, by your inadvertently naming him so 'tis safe as it is. [ To him- telf.] But I forget my prisoners. Frank, I have business that will occupy me for a few minutes in my study. Should this gentleman arrive before my return, you, as my nephew, will do the honours for me ; and you, my little darling, will remember, that as he is your intended husband, you must endeavour but I need say no more; that hint is always sufficient to put a wo- man to her sweetest looks and best be- haviour. [Exit. Harry. I am in a pleasant dilemma here. Should this be Frank, I must cease to act your cousin. Should it be the per- son your father expects, good bye to my hopes of becoming your husband. Enter PHEBB. Phebe. Where is the Colonel? Harry. In his study. Phebe. 'TisMr. Frank himself. But be not alarmed, I have prepared him by a hasty narrative of the events of the morn- ing, and he has promised to make one of our party. You may come in, sir. Enter FRANK HARDY. Prank. My dear cousin I [Embracet ELIZA.] What, Harry, my old shipmate ? Eliza. And is this my little cousin Frank ? How much he has grown since he was a little boy ! Frank. We are both somewhat changed. I left home a boy, and returned a man. I left you playing with a doll, and find you maneuvering for a husband. This pretty maid has informed me of your proceed- ings. But pray, my dear fellow, does it occur to you that we are in a devil of a scrape here ? Harry. And pray, my dear fellow, does it occur to you how I am to get out of it? frank. [Pointing to the window.] That seems the shortest way. Harry. That way led me into it, and I never take the same road twice. Frank. But since my uncle doesn't ex- pect two nephews, one of us must abdicate. Phebe. I Lope you didn't come all the way from the antipodes to tell us that, sir. That must be the end of it, we know : but if you were at all acquainted with your uncle's character, you would conceive that there might be some danger in an abrupt disclosure of the deception we have been forced to put upon him. Frank. How forced ? Phebe. Why, as I told you by the way, sir, to prevent lord knows what mischief. Frank. Harkye, you and I are old friends ; you love my cousin, she loves you, and if my assistance is likely to promote your union, you may command it. Would your father consent to it? Harry. I doubt that, for he has a scheme of his own for my marriage. So my no- tion is to marry first, and ask his consent afterwards. Eliza. Stop, I have an idea. Phebe. [Aside.] At last ! If it be really an idea, she never came honestly by it Hush ! I tremble at every sound. I'll go and see what it is. [Exit. Harry. Now for your idea. Eliza. I dread my 'pa's anger, and dare not see him till he is pacified. Now if Harry were to force me to run away with him, whilst you Frank. That is a step I wish not to sanction. Be prudent, or I abandon you. But pray tell, since I am not to be myself, who am I ? Harry. Why the Colonel expects his protege. He believes you are the person and Hush ! he's here. Frank. That will never do, for should he really arrive, our difficulty would be increased and Harry. [Aside.] I long to throw myself into his arms, yet dare not. [They retire. PAUL PRY. 393 Enter HAKDY. Hardy. We have despatched the letter, and if that fail to arouse old Witherton to a sense of his humiliation [Aside.] ha, there he is. Now I'll teach him to come here and take my whole family as it were on trial. [FRANK advances.] I believe I have the honour of addressing the travelling gentleman who has expressed a desire to see my pictures. Frank. Sir I Hardy. Sir, I entreat you will use no ceremony visit my grounds examine my furniture settle your opinion upon every thing and every body in my house. This is my daughter. [Takes her by the hand.] My daughter, sir you understand. I hope you like her. This is my nephew, Frank. What is your opinion of him ! How d'ye like me ? Frank. So well, sir, that if I were to choose an uncle for myself, you would be the very man. Hardy. Well, that's one point in our favour. But we have not done yet my dinners my wines it is important that those should be to your satisfaction, young gentleman ; so I shall request the satis- faction of your company at dinner to-day. Frank. Ay, sir, and to-morrow, and every day for a month to come, if you please. Hardy. And if any thing in my house, dead or alive, should displease you, you understand pray use no ceremony in mentioning it. Frank. {Aside.} What the deuce does he mean? Sir, I assure you that every thing here is perfectly to my taste. Hardy. If not, Mr. Snooks has but to gallop to town again, and no party you understand is compromised by his visit. Frank. Upon my soul, sir, I do not understand but Snooks oh, I perceive the chattering fellow I met at the inn, has spoken to you about me, and be hanged to him. Hardy. No matter, sir, I am very proud of the honour you intend me, and let that suffice. Harry. [Aside to Frank.} Don't con- tradict him, or he'll talk for a month. Hardy. And now, sir, that no time may be lost, suppose you commence your in- spection at once by a ramble about my grounds. If you please, my daughter shall accompany you : but if that is in the least disagreeable, pray say so. Harry. [To ELIZA.] Come, and thank heaven for this respite. Hardy. What the deuce Frank [Separ- ates them.] Do the civil thing to the travelling gentleman. Will it be in any | way disagreeable to you, sir, to give my daughter your arm ? Frank. Let this attest, that it is the most agreeable thing you could have proposed to me, sir. Hardy. [Aside.] I am sorry it is so. I almost wish he had disliked her, that hia marriage might have been a punishment to him for presuming to have a choice of his own. But his father will soon be here and then Enter PHEBE, with a key. Well, what is the matter with you? What has alarmed you? Is the house on fire ? Why don't yoa answer? Phebe. Alarmed ! no, sir, I am not alarmed ; but Grasp, Mr. Witherton's steward, wishes to see you and running to tell you has taken my breath away, that's all, sir. Hardy. So, the letter has produced its effect, I imagine. Phebe. He seems in a violent rage, so pray go to him, sir, go. Hardy. Well, why need you be so alarmed about it? But you have nerves, I suppose. Ah, the luxury and refinement of the times ! Here's a chambermaid sent into the world with as fine a set of nerves as a duchess. I'll go to the man. You'll excuse me for a short time, Mr. travelling gentleman ; Frank and my daughter will supply my place. [Exit. Eliza. Phebe, what are you so flurried about? Is it really Mr. Grasp, or have you deceived my 'pa ? Phebe. No, Miss, no, that's true enough but I wish it were the whole truth. He's come at last and I have him under lock and key. Eliza. Who, the young man ? Phebe. Young ! why, Miss, he's fifty. Harry. You have mistaken the person, then ; 'tis a young man the Colonel ex- pects. fcr Phebe. The Colonel speaks of him as he was, when they were associates, with- out considering how many years have passed since. I am certain 'tis he, for he asked to see the bride that was enough for me. I thrust him into the breakfast parlour, and locked the door. Here, take 394 PAUL PRY. the key, and settle your matters as best you may. Harry. They'll be easily settled ; [Takes the key^\ I have but one way of treating with a rival. Either he must relinquish his claim, or I shall leave the point to be argued by a brace of the most persuasive tongues of any in the kingdom. Come with me, Frank. Frank. Hold, you have chosen to be my representative with my uncle, I shall therefore take your place with your rival, and try what may be done by more tem- perate measures. Come, come, Harry, stay where you are. You are too deeply interested in the issue to be as cool as circumstances may require ; so leave the interview entirely to me. Harry. On one condition, I will ; that if you do not succeed in persuading "him to abandon the engagement he is under with your uncle, you will then turn my gentleman over to my care, and I warrant you Frank. Say no more, 'tis granted. Come, Phebe, show me to the dragon I am to vanquish. Eliza. And tell him, Frank, that I can never love him that we shall never be happy together and that though I may be obliged to marry him to please my 'pa, I shall never do any thing to please him. \Exeunt HABBY and ELIZA FRANK. Phebe. Well, when I marry, I'll not leave the choice of a partner to the Col- onel. The man would be well enough for a grandfather, but for a husband Miss Simpleton has entered much better for herself. Her Harry is a dashing fellow, that's the truth on't. Here are some verses he just slipped into my hand. [Reads.] Well, his compliment is pretty enough, but I can't say much for its novelty. He compares my lips to cher- ries. Whilst Mr. Frank is gone for the letter, I'll get them by heart. [Exit. SCENE III. At WITHERTON'S Enter WITHERTON. With. Marry! at the very sound I feel myseif a happy and contented man. Marry! and yet at my age 'tis a step which ought not to be inconsiderately taken. Willis, [Rings.] his advice has served me on more than one occasion. Ah, had my nephew been where he ought, I had not needed the friendship of a X At*. stranger; but that young man shall sup- ply his place. Enter SERVANT with a letter. Desire Mr. Willis to come to me. Serv. Mr. Willis is gone, sir and here is a letter for you, sir. [Exit. With. Gone! what does he mean? [Opens the letter.] and a letter from Mar- ian. [Read* hastily.] What do I read ? " Mrs. Subtle's tyranny, her overbearing insolence unable any longer to endure it by at once quitting your house, and relinquishing your protection, and 'tis with unfeigned sorrow and regret I do so, I am but anticipating my intended dis- missal. Willis, for reasons which you shall know hereafter, has resolved to ac- company me." Marian! Marian! my poor Marian ! Driven from my house Willis too. Does she already so pre- sume ? I see my conduct now must de- termine the character I am to maintain hereafter. I must teach her that I can be master or sink for ever into the abject slave. Enter MRS. SUBTLE. Mrs. S. The papers are destroyed and now With. So, Mrs. Subtle, where is Mar- ian ? where is Willis ? Mrs. S. Gone I With. By whose authority are they dis- missed? yours? Mrs. S. [Astonished at his authoritative tone.] Why, how is this ? Rebellion ? With. Have you done this, I say ? Mrs. S. No. And if I had, give me leave to say, sir With. I perceive your error : let me cor- rect it while there is yet time. He that has occasionally endured the control of a servant, may yet revolt at the dominion of a wife. Remember, besides, you assume the mistress somewhat prematurely. Let Willis and Marian be recalled. Mrs. S. [Aside.] Is this possible? I know not where they are, sir. With. Restore them to my house, or Mrs. S. Or you would have me quit it. With. I said not so. Mrs. S. [In tears.] I deserve this. Oh, woman ! would you make a man your ty- rant, you need but avow to him that you love. 'Tis clear you wish me gone. With. No, Mrs. Subtle, no but let them be recalled. Mrs.S. They shall be sought after. But PAUL PRY. 395 was this well ? do I deserve this unkind- ness ? Marian is young and handsome ; and if her presence here displeased me, could you divine no excusable motive for my displeasure ? With. Well, dear Mrs. Subtle, say no more. I was perhaps too hasty. Ah, here comes Hardy. Enter HARDY. Hardy. So, what is this I hear? You have dismissed Willis poor Marian too those whom I recommended to your care. With. Well, well, and were it so, am I not master in my own house? Hardy. No, there's the master of you, and your house too. But I'm aware of your intentions. Marry your housekeeper ! How old are you? Are you out of your teens ? You have long since arrived at the age of maturity, we'll say nothing about years of discretion. With. Colonel, this is my house. Hardy. I understand and when I have performed my errand, I'll leave you to the full enjoyment of it. If you marry, what is to become of your nephew ? Though when the settlements are drawn, I dare say Mrs. Subtle will take care the poor fellow shall be amply provided for [To her.] you always have been the friend of poor sinners, you know. Mrs. S. [Aside.] Ah, is he there? With. Provide for him ! I'll cut him off with a shilling. Hardy. Do what? Do you know the meaning of that trivial, dreadful phrase? Would you carry your resentment beyond the grave? A'n't you satisfied to enjoy the pleasure of revenge {is long as you live ? Surely that is long enough for the best for the worst of us. When we die, 'tis time our resentment should expire too. With. You will be silent on the subject of my nephew, if you wish to preserve my friendship. Hardy. Tis to render you worthy of mine, that I speak. But this is no time for ceremony ; your eyes must be opened. Here, Grasp. Enter GRASP. You have for years been the dupe of this precious pair poor Somers traduced his letters yours suppressed falsified. This honest gentleman, doubtful of being able to persuade you of the truth of his con- fession, has taken the surer way of making it to me. With. I was already prepared for some- thing of this nature, but he has deceived you ; his motives are not unknown to me. Mrs. S. Let him speak, sir. What in- trigues he may have carried on against your nephew, I know not. Whatever he would charge upon me, he must prove. His word, under present circumstances, is as nothing. Hardy. I would give as little for the fellow's word as you would, who seems to know its great value. So, come, sir, to the proofs you told me of. Mrs. S. Ay, now villain ! Grasp. Aye, now you shall feel what it is to make a dupe of me. [Exit. Hardy. Now when your eyes are opened, Eerhaps you will have no objection to ac- nowledge that you perceive the light of the sun. With. 'Tis a wicked imposture of his the petty revenge of disappointed hope. Mrs. S. Let them proceed, sir. Re-enter GRASP. Grasp. They are stolen I am robbed. [ To MRS. SUBTLE.] 'Tis you have done this. With. What say you ? Mrs^ S. This is too stale a device. Grasp. [ To HARDY.] The papers I told you of 'twas but this morning I saw them there my desk has been opened You, [To MRS. SUBTLE] you alone had a mo- tive for doing this. With. The trick is evident. Deliver up your keys, and quit my house. Hardy. There can be no objection to that. There will be one rogue the fewer in it. [ To GRASP.] Do you persist in the truth of the disclosure you made to me? Grasp. It matters not. You see which way the wind blows. 'Tis clear, whatever may happen, I can no longer remain here. [TbWiTHERTON.] Your blind folly de- serves a bitter punishment marry her. [Exit. Hardy. [ To MRS. SUBTLE.] Now I dare say you consider this a triumph, but I have yet Mrs. S. Mr. Witherton, what further insult am I to receive at the hands of this gentleman ? Hardy. Hey-day ! With. Colonel Hardy, I beg you will recollect that this lady is to become- Hardy. Ladyl Well, then, my lady pickle and preserve, since it must be MX 896 PAUL PEY. With. Sir, the attempts to disgrace her in my esteem, though I doubt not ingeni- ously concerted, have failed. It remains with you to determine by your conduct towards her, whether I am to continue your friend. Hardy. My determination is taken. Good morning to you. I had prepared a surprise for you, which would have ren- dered you a happy man for life. You shall not enjoy it, till you know better how to deserve it. Good day. Enter PAUL PEY. Pry. I hope I don't intrude. Hardy. You have just dropt in to wish the young couple joy, I suppose ? Pry. I come to wish Mrs. Subtle joy. You must have been dreadfully alarmed when you discovered your loss. Mrs. S. What loss what? Pry. I saw you drop them, and called after you, but you didn't hear me. Mrs. S. What are you speaking of? Pry. Poor Mrs. Subtle, thought I, if these had been her own, it wouldn't so much have grieved her ; but to lose a packet belonging to her master Hardy. Eh, what's that ? Papers ? Pry. A heavy package she let fall into the dry well, up yonder. It took me nearly half an hour to hook them out again and here they are. Mrs. S. [About to seize them.] They are mine. Hardy. [Seizing them.] By your leave. So, so, this confirms the truth of Grasp's story. [Looking at them, and giving them one by one to WITHERTON.] Will this convince you or this or this ? Mrs. S. The scheme I have for years been framing, in a moment destroyed by an officious fool. With. May I believe my eyes ? The letter desiring my nephew to hasten to England, suppressed. And here [Heads.] " Again I write to you, my dear uncle, to implore your consent to my marriage." And here he entreats permission to see me. What say you to this, Mrs. Sub- tle? Mrs. S. I scorn to reply. If you believe me implicated in these intrigues if you have so lost your confidence in my truth and honesty towards you, bid me at once begone. In your solitude, your desolate solitude, you will find leisure to repent your injustice, and With. Say but you are innocent in an> participation in this, and Hardy. Say it ! Confound her, she'll say it, and swear it too. But are you so blind as not to perceive the drift of her artful speech? Why need you be desolate? why need you be solitary ? It has been her wicked policy to render you so. Re- call the friends whom nature has provided for you. If you won't, I will ; and if you don't like them give them over to me. With. What mean you ? Hardy. To restore an injured nephew to you ; and if Somers and his wife have suffered through the calumnies this good lady has heaped upon them, your own judgment has done them right in its true estimate of the virtues of Willis and Mar- ian. Come in. Enter WILLIS and MARIAN. I hate the parade of sentiment. There they are, so take them at once to your heart. They have nothing to be ashamed of, except having : : n old fool for an uncle. [WILLIS and AlAKlAN throw them- selves at WiTKERTON's/ee<. With. No, not there not there. [Rises and clasps them in his arms.] To what vile treachery have I been subjected? Mrs. Subtle, you may perceive that your presence here is no longer desirable. Mrs. S. Think not I desire to remain ; and if I feel a pang at parting with you, it is at the reflection that a few hours more would have made me mistress of that fortune, which now may it carry misery wherever it is bestowed. [Exit. Hardy. There ! If you could entertain the slightest regret at the departure of that good lady, I trust that her farewell speech will serve to extinguish it. Pry. [To HARDY.] 'Tis best for him as it is. He'd have caught a tartar ; be- sides he can be no chicken. Now what age would you take him to be? Hardy. At a random guess, turned of twenty. Give me your hand. [TbWlTH- ERTON.] I congratulate you on your ac- cession to your senses. I am happy in what I have done here. I feel in good humour with myself, and every body else. Will no one ask a favour, that I may en- joy the pleasure of granting it ? Will no one offend me, to afford me the gratifica- tion of forgiving him ? PAUL PRY. 39? Enter FRANK HARDY. Frank. If you are in that mood, sir, I can furnish you with employment. Hardy. So, Mr. Snooks, is it you? [To WITHERTON.] The son of our old friend Stanley, with whom you and I have cracked many a bottle in our young days. He thinks I don't know him. Pry. The travelling gentleman. Hardy. [To FRANK.] Then you intend to confess who you are, and trust to my mercy ? But I knew you from the first. I was apprised of your runaway freak, and was resolved to humour it. Frank. Pray, sir, read this letter. [ Gives a letter. Hardy. " Archibald Stanley "a letter from his father. Pry. A pass to the next parish, I sup- pose. Hardy. What the deuce I break off his engagement with me ; and has he encour- aged you in this? Frank. Upon my word, sir, he is a very rational old gentleman, and made no sort of scruple in relinquishing his share in the treaty. Hardy. So then it appears that my daughter is not agreeable to you, and your father is mad enough to Frank. My father, sir 1 Hardy. Aye, sir, and I consider the conduct of old Mr. Stanley in this affair Frank. One word, sir. Is the gentle- man I have just seen, old Mr. Stanley, the father of Harry Stanley ? Hardy. Why this is stretching the proverb with a vengeance ; and do you pretend that you did not know your own father ? Frank. Ha, ha, ha! So then Harry Stanley is the person you have all along intended for your son-in-law ? Hardy. Why who the devil else do you think it was ? Sir, do you persist in refusing my daughter ? Frank. I do, sir. Yet, nevertheless your own intentions will "be fulfilled. Enter SERVANT. Serv. [To WITHERTON.] Mr. Stanley, air. Frank. Ha, ha, ha ! I foresee a warm explanation here. Enter STANLEY. Stan. [Crosses to WITHERTON.] Ah, my old friend ! I have made a fruitless journey down to this place, but I would not return to town, without shaking you by the hand. What, Hardy 1 I had re- solved not to see you, but since we have met, your hand. Your daughter may be all the happier for the exchange. Hardy. So then you countenance your son in his refusal ? You allow him to come here, look at my daughter, turn up his cursed impudent nose at her, and cool- ly march oft' again. Stan. What, and has my Hal been here? What has become of him ? Hardy. Why, don't you see him before you ? Turn about, you dog. [ To FRANK.] Stan. Ha, ha, ha I He's no son of mine. Hardy. Tell me, if that is not your son, pray whose son is he? Stan. That's more than I can say. All I know about him, is that he is the gen- tleman in whose favour I have just relin- quished my boy's claim to your daughter. Hardy. So, sir, you have dared to im- pose upon me, by telling me that Frank. You wrong me, sir. I told you nothing. The error was of your own creating. Pry. There, you see, I was right. Hardy. Ay, and you putting me on my guard has led to this misunderstanding. But here comes my nephew. I shall leave it to him to revenge this affront. Enter HARRY, ELIZA, and PHEBE. With. My dear friend, be temperate. Hardy. For all misunderstanding, that has occurred here, sir, I alone am the devil, my father! Pry. The devil his father! Well, I thought he did not come of a good family, from the first moment I saw him. Stan. Come hither, sir, and answer your father. Hardy. Listen to your uncle, I say. Stan. You his uncle! Why zounds, are you mad, or do you think I don't know my own son ? Hardy. There is some confounded rogue- ry in this. If one of these is not your son, and the other an impudent rascal of a lover, what am I to do for a nephew ? Phebe. [Leading FRANK to him.] Fo? want of another, take this. Hardy. I begin to perceive. So then you were the bird-catcher after all, and were already acquainted with my daugh- 398 HE DIDN'T KNOW THE COURT. ter. And pray, Miss Phebe, how did you dare Phebe. Why, sir, if hot-headed gentle- men will ask questions with pistols in their hands, what is one to do ? With. Come, come, say no more. You have your own way. Hardy. True, I have my own way, but not in my own way of having it. Her obedience is not quite so evident in this, as I could have desired ; however, there [Grosses to HARRY, passes him over to ELIZA, and joins their hands. There, you bird catcher, you. You've caught a goldfinch. Eliza. Thank you, 'pa, and if ever I marry again, you shall have the choice all your own way. Harry. I am in no hurry to give your 'pa an opportunity of putting your obedi- ence to the test. Hardy. Frank, my boy, you do take after the family, and I forgive you on that account. Phebe. I hope, sir, you'll forgive me if not [Turns to WITHERTON.] I hear sir, that you have dismissed your house- keeper, and [Curtsies.] should I lose my place in the Colonel's family With. Ah, my dear, you are too young for a housekeeper, and I have abandoned my intention to marry. Celibacy is an error, which at my age it is too late to re- pair. I have been foolish enough to live single all my life, but to marry now, would be but to exchange a great folly for a greater. In this is now my refuge for life. [Taking his nephew's and MARIAN'S hand. Hardy. All you that are single, take warning by him, and marry as fast as you can. Pry. [ To PHEBE.] A broad hint to you and me, Miss Phebe. Phebe. Lord help me. You are too in- quisitive for a husband. Pry. Pooh, pooh ! A spirit of inquiry is the great characteristic of the age we live in. Hardy. It is a spirit which now and then leads you to fish in troubled waters. Pry. I flatter myself I have fished to some purpose to-day though the papers, you know. Hardy. So you have ; and in considera- tion of that, I will tolerate you for the remainder of it. You shall dine with me. Pry. You'll tolerate me no, will you? Well, that's very polite, and I accept your invitation. Hardy. But if you dare ask a single question, even what it is o'clock, I'll toss you out of the window. Pry. I must ask one question more. Ladies and gentlemen, if I am not im- pertinent, will you, will you overlook the many faults of Paul Pry ? THE END OF PAUL PRY. HE DIDN'T KNOW THE COURT. HOW CHIEF JUSTICE WAITE WAS SNUBBED BY A RAILWAY TICKET AGENT. Chief Justice Waite, of the Supreme Court, had a funny experience the other day, and as he has related it to any num- ber of friends, the story has had a wide circulation in society. Several weeks ago he had an imperative engagement in Baltimore. Like all great men he is pro- verbially absent-minded. He went up to the Court, and after a few moments' ses- sion adjourned the Court and came down leisurely to the Baltimore and Ohio De- pot, which is only a short distance from the Capitol. As he got out of the street- car he found he had ten minutes in which to purchase a ticket and get a seat on the train. As he went up to the ticket office he discovered, to his surprise, that he had only a few pennies in his pocket. He had neglected to provide himself with " scrip for his journey." He looked around the waiting-room, but saw no one he knew. What was to be done must be done quickly ; his engagement was an impor- tant one. So he filed up in the line to the ticket office, and when he reached the window the Chief Justice smiled an awful smile across the full width of his ample mouth, and asked the ticket agent if he knew him. " No, I don't," snarled the agent ; " and what is more I don't want to. What do you want ? " "I want a ticket to Baltimore and re- turn. I am the Chief Justice of the Supreme Court, and I have no money with me; it is purely accidental. I can give you my personal check." "Oh, I know you. I know all the bloods, but that dodge won't workon me. A REPORT FROM BELOW. 399 I have just had two members of the Cabinet try to ' bilk ' me out of tickets, and no Chief Justice dodge gets me Take your ugly mug out of the window, and get out of the way of people who have money. 1 ' The Chief Justice glared. He could not fine the young man for contempt of Court. He felt cheaper and worse than if he had been a real fraud. He blushed and perspired so that the agent had his firm belief strengthened. The Chief Jus- tice dashed out of the station to see if he could not find some one to identify him. He had only five minutes left. It was too short a time to run to the Capitol. He saw no one. Across the street there was a saloon and eating-house. The Chief Justice made a rush across the road, but he stopped at the door. What if he should be seen going into a common gin- mill ? What would people say, and it was a bare chance if any one in there should know him ! Spying a private entrance, he rushed in and accosted the proprietor with the frantic inquiry of " Do you know me ? '' " Yes, bet yer head, I do, yer honor," said the short-haired, freckled-faced man behind the bar. " Ye are the boss av the Shuprame Coort. I see ye every day go- ing by here on the cars." " Will you cash my check ? I have no time to explain." Here the Chief Justice grabbed a piece of paper upon a desk near by and began to write hurriedly. " Shure I will. I've seen ould byes off on a tear before get out of money. Trusht me, sorr. Is it a twenty ye want? Here it is. Will ye have a drop before ye run?" But, before any further explanation could be made, the Chief Justice had grabbed the money and was running across the street. In some way the ticket agent had learned of his blunder during the Judge's absence, and was all polite- ness when he saw the money. Mr. Waite barely made the train, but he has not had such a shock to his dignity since he went upon the bench of the Supreme Court. "MY dear doctor," said an Irishman, " it's no use your giving me an emetic. I tried it twice in Dublin, and it would ot stay on my stomach five minutes." A REPORT FROM BELOW. As Mister B. and Mistress B. One night were sitting down to tea, With toast and muffins hot, They heard a loud and sudden bounce, That made the very china flounce, They could not for a time pronounce If they were safe or shot. Suppose the couple standing so, When rushing footsteps from below Made pulses fast and fervent ; And first burst in the frantic cat, All steaming like a brewer's rat, And then, as white as my cravat, Poor Mary May, the servant. Lord ! how the couple's teeth did chatter, Master and mistress both flew at her. " Speak ! fire ? or murder ? what's the mat- ter ? " Till Mary getting breath, Upon her tale began to touch With rapid tongue, full trotting, such As if she thought she had too much To tell before her death ! " We was both, ma'am, in the wash-house, ma'am, a standing at our tubs, And Mrs. Round was seconding what little things I rubs ; ' Mary,' says she to me, ' I say,' and there she stops for coaghin', ' That dratted copper flue has took a smokin' very often, But please the pigs,' for that's her way of swearing in a passion, ' I'll blow it up, and not be set a coughin' in this fashion 1 ' Well, down she takes my master's horn, I mean the horn for loading, And empties every grain alive for to set the flue exploding. ' Lawk, Mrs. Round ! ' says I, and stares, ' that quantum is unproper, I'm sartin sure it can't not take a pound to sky a copper ; You'll powder both our heads off, so I tells you, with its puff,' But she only dried her fingers, and she takes a pinch of snuff. Well, when the pinch is over, ' Teach your grandmother to suck A powder-horn,' says she. ' Well,' says I, ' I wish you luck.' 400 A REPORT FROM BELOW. Them words sets up her back, so with her hands upon her hips, ' Come,' says she, quite in a huff, ' come keep your tongue inside your lips ; Afore ever you was born, I was used to things like these ; I shall put it in the grate, and let it burn up by degrees. So in it goes, and bounce, Lord ! it gives us such a rattle, I thought we both were cannonized, like sojers in a battle ! Up goes the copper like a squib, and us on both our backs, And bless the tubs, they bundled off, and split all into cracks. Well, then I fainted dead away, and might have been cut shorter, But Providence was kind, and brought me to with scalding water. I first looked round for Mrs. Round, and sees her at a distance, As stiff as starch, and looked as dead as anything in existence ; All scorched and grimed, and more than that, I sees the copper slap Bight on her head, for all the world like a percussion copper cap. Well, I crooks her little fingers, and crumps them well up together, As humanity pints out, and burnt her nos- trums with a feather : But for all as I can do, to restore her to mortality, She never gives a sign of a return to sensu- ality. Thinks I, well there she lies, as dead as ray own late departed mother, Well, she'll wash no more in this world, whatever she does in t'other. So I gives myself to scramble up the linens for a minute, Lawk, sich a shirt! thinks I, it's well my master wasn't in it. ! I never, never, never, never, never, never, see a sight so shockin' ; Here lay a leg, and there a leg, I mean, you know, a stocking, Bodies all slit and torn to rags, and many a tattered skirt, And arms burnt off, and sides aud backs all scotched and black with dirt : But as nobody was in 'em none but no- body was hurt ! Well, there I am, a scrambling at the things, all in a lump, When, mercy on us I such a groan makes my heart to jump. And there she is, a-lying with a crazy sort of eye, A-staring at the wash-house roof, laid open to the sky ; Then she beckons with a finger, and so down to her I reaches, And put my ear to her mouth to hear her dying speeches, For poor soul ! she has a husband and young orphans, as I knew ; Well, ma'am, you won't believe it, but it's Gospel fact and true, But these words is all she whispered " Why, where is the powder blew ? " THOMAS HOOD. BND OF VOL. II. UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY A 000638319 4