PR 4797 W3 1890 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA, SAN DIEGO 
 
 NX* 
 
 3 1822 01083 4661 
 
 aev^
 
 R. e. ROSE, 
 
 &9 
 
 presented to the 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA • SAN DIEGO 
 
 by 
 
 FRIENDS OF THE LIBRARY 
 
 MR. JOHN C. ROSE
 
 PR 4797 W3 1890 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA, SAN DIEGO 
 
 3 1822 01083 4661 
 
 f f? . 

 
 R 
 
 ^
 
 WHIMS AND ODDITIES 
 
 BY 
 
 THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 " O Cicero ! Cicero ! if to pun be a crime, 'tis a crime I have learned of 
 thee. O Bias ! Eias ! if to pun be a crime, by thy example I was biassed I" 
 — Scriblerus. 
 
 a /!3eiu Coition 
 
 WITH EIGHTY-FIVE ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 ULantiari 
 CHATTO & WINDUS, PICCADILLY 
 
 1890
 
 HBrtjteatfaK, 
 
 TO THE REVIEWERS. 
 
 What is a modern Poet's fate ? 
 To write his thoughts upon a slate ;■ 
 The Critic spits on what is done,— 
 Gives it a wipe, — and all is gene.
 
 N" presenting his Whims and Oddities to the Public, 
 the Author desires to say a few words, which he 
 hopes will not swell into a Memoir. 
 
 It happens to most persons, in occasional lively moments, 
 to have their little chirping fancies and brain crotchets, that 
 skip out of the ordinary meadow-land of the mind. The 
 Author has caught his and clapped them up in paper and 
 print, like grasshoppers in a cage. The judicious reader will 
 look upon the trifling creatures accordingly, and not expert 
 from them the flights of poetical winged horses. 
 
 At a future time, the Press may be troubled with some 
 things of a more serious tone and purpose, — which the Author 
 has resolved upon publishing, in despite of the advice of cer- 
 tain critical friends. His forte, they are pleased to say, is
 
 viii PREFACE. 
 
 decidedly humorous; but a gentleman cannot always be 
 breathing his comic vein. 
 
 It will be seen, from the illustrations of the present work, 
 that the Inventor is no artist ;— in fact, he was never " meant 
 
 to draw" any more than the tape-tied curtains mentioned 
 
 by Mr Pope. Those who look at his designs, witn Ovid's 
 Love of Art, will therefore be disappointed; — his sketcnea 
 are as rude and artless to other sketches, as Ingram's rustic 
 manufacture to the polished chair. The designer is quite 
 aware of their defects : but when Raphael has bestowed seven 
 odd legs upon four Apostles, and Fuseli has stuck in a great 
 goggle head without an owner ; — when Michael Angelo has 
 set on a foot the wrong way, and Hogarth has painted in 
 defiance of all the laws of nature and perspective, he does 
 hope that his own little enormities may be forgiven — that 
 his sketches may look interesting, like Lord Byron's Sleeper, — 
 " with all their errors." 
 
 Such as they are, the Author resigns his pen-and-ink fancies 
 to the public eye. He has more designs in the wood ; and if 
 the present sample should be relished, he will cut more, and 
 come again, according to the proverb, with a New Series. 
 
 London, 1826.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 FIRST SERIES. 
 
 PREFACE, ..... 
 MOUAL REFLECTIONS ON THE CROSS OF ST PAUL'S, 
 THE PRAYSE OF IGNORANCE, 
 A VALENTINE, 
 LOVE, 
 
 " PLEASE TO RING THE BELLE," 
 A RECIPE — FOR CIVILISATION, 
 ON THE POPULAR CUPID, 
 THE LAST MAN, 
 THE BALLAD OF " SALLY BROWN AND BEN THE CARPENTER 
 BACKING THE FAVOURITE, . 
 A COMPLAINT AGAINST GREATNESS, 
 THE MERMAID OF MARGATE, 
 MY SON, SIR, 
 
 '" AS IT FELL UPON A DAT," 
 A FAIRY TALE, 
 THE SPOILED CHILD, 
 THE FALL OF THE DEER, 
 DECEMBER AND MAY, 
 A WINTER NOSEGAY, 
 EQUESTRIAN COURTSHIP, 
 " SHE IS FAR FROM THE LAND," 
 FANCIES ON A TEA-CUP, 
 THE STAG-EYED LADY, 
 WALTON REDIVIVUS, 
 " LOVE ME, LOVE MY DOG," 
 REMONSTRATORY ODE FROM THE ELEPHANT 
 A NEW LIFE PRESERVER, . 
 A DREAM, . 
 THE IRISH SCHOOLMASTER, 
 
 AT EXETER 'CHANGE 
 
 PAGE 
 
 vii 
 11 
 
 14 
 
 18 
 
 22 
 
 24 
 
 26 
 
 34 
 
 37 
 
 48 
 
 53 
 
 56 
 
 60 
 
 66 
 
 68 
 
 71 
 
 76 
 
 80 
 
 83 
 
 85 
 
 88 
 
 90 
 
 97 
 
 100 
 
 107 
 
 115 
 
 121 
 
 129 
 
 132 
 
 143
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 THE SEA-SPELL, 
 FAITHLESS NELLY GRAY, 
 FANCY-PORTRAITS, . 
 
 PAGE 
 157 
 
 166 
 171 
 
 SECOND SERIES. 
 
 PREFACE, . 
 
 bianca's dream : a venetian story, 
 
 a ballad-singer, 
 
 mary's ghost : a pathetic ballad, 
 
 the progress of art, 
 
 a school for adults, 
 
 a legend of navarre, 
 
 the demon-ship, . 
 
 sally holt, and the death of john hayloft, 
 
 a true story, 
 
 the decline of mrs shakerly, . 
 
 tim turpin : a pathetic ballad, 
 
 the monkey-martyr \ a fable, . 
 
 banditti, 
 
 death's ramble, . 
 
 craniology, 
 
 an affair of honour, 
 
 a parthian glance, 
 
 a sailor's apology for bow-legs, 
 
 " nothing but hearts ! " 
 
 jack hall, 
 
 the wee man : a romance, 
 
 pythagorean fancies, 
 
 "don't you smell fire," 
 
 the volunteer, . 
 
 a marriage procession, . 
 
 the widow, 
 
 A MAD DOG, 
 
 JOHN TROT, 
 
 AN ABSENTEE, 
 
 ODE TO THE CAMELEOPARD, 
 
 A MAY-DAY, 
 
 179 
 181 
 
 192 
 193 
 196 
 200 
 205 
 213 
 218 
 222 
 230 
 233 
 237 
 242 
 245 
 248 
 252 
 255 
 258 
 261 
 265 
 276 
 279 
 284 
 287 
 292 
 296 
 301 
 305 
 310 
 313 
 317
 
 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 Jirst Juries. 
 
 MORAL REFLECTIONS ON THE CROSS OF 
 ST PAUL'S. 
 
 i. 
 
 HE man that pays his pence, and goes 
 Up to thy lofty cross, St Paul, 
 Looks over London's naked nose, 
 Women and men : 
 The world is all beneath his ken, 
 He sits above the Ball. 
 
 He seems on Mount Olympus' top, 
 
 Among the Gods, by Jupiter ! and lets drop 
 
 His eyes from the empyreal clouds 
 
 On mortal crowds. 
 
 II. 
 
 Seen from these skies, 
 How small those emmets in our eyes ! 
 Some carry little sticks — and one 
 His eggs — to warm them in the sun :
 
 12 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 Dear ! what a hustle, 
 
 And bustle ! 
 And there's my aunt. I know her by her waist, 
 
 So long and thin, 
 
 And so pinch'd in, 
 Just in the pismire taste. 
 
 in. 
 
 Oh ! what are men ? — Beings so small, 
 
 That, should I fall 
 Upon their little heads, I must 
 Crush them by hundreds into dust ! 
 
 IV. 
 
 And what is life 1 — and all its ages — 
 
 There 's seven stages ! 
 Turnham Green ! Chelsea ! Putney ! Fulham ! 
 Brentford ! and Kew ! 
 And Tooting, too ! 
 And oh ! what very little nags to pull 'em. 
 Yet each would seem a horse indeed, 
 
 If here at Paul's tip-top we 'd got 'em ; 
 Although, like Cinderella's breed, 
 
 They 're mice at bottom. 
 Then let me not despise a horse, 
 Though he looks small from Paul's high cross ! 
 Since he would be, — as near the sky, 
 — Fourteen hands high.
 
 THE CROSS OF ST PAUL'S. 
 
 n 
 
 What is this world with London in its lap 1 
 
 Mogg's Map. 
 The Thames that ebbs and flows in its broad channel 1 
 
 A tidy kennel. 
 The bridges stretching from its banks 1 
 
 Stone planks. 
 Oh me ! hence could I read an admonition 
 
 To mad Ambition I 
 But that he would not listen to my call, 
 Though I should stand upon the cross, and ball ! 
 
 Very deaf, indeed.
 
 i 4 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 THE PRAYSE OF IGNORANCE. 
 
 An Extract from an Oration delivered before the most grave and 
 learned Faculty of Padua, by the Admirable Crichton. 
 
 OW your Clowne knoweth none of the Booke-man's 
 troubles, and Lis dayes be the longer; for he doth 
 not vault upon the fierie Pegasus, but jumpes merrilye upon 
 old Ball, who is a cart-horse, and singeth another man's song, 
 which hath, it may be, thirty and six verses, and a burthen 
 withal, and goes to a tune which no man knowes but himself. 
 Alsoe, he wooes the ruddye Cicely, which is not a Muse, but 
 as comely a maide of fleshe as needes be, and many daintye 
 ballades are made of their loves, as may be read in our Poets 
 their Pastoralls ; only that therein he is called Damon, which 
 standes for Roger, and Cicely, belike, is ycleped Sylvia, as 
 belongs to their pastorall abodes. Where they lead soe happy e 
 life as to stir up envye in the towne's women, who would faine 
 become Shepherdesses by hook and by crook, and get green 
 gownes and lay down upon the sweet verdant grass. Oh, 
 how pleasauntly they sit all the daye long under a shady tree, 
 to hear the young lambes; but at night they listen to the 
 plaintive Philomell, and the gallaunts doe make them chap- 
 pelets ; or, if it chance to be "May, they goe a Mayinge, whilst
 
 THE PR A YSE OF IGNORANCE. 15 
 
 the yonge buds smell sweetlye, and the littel birdes are 
 whistlynge and hoppinge all about. 
 
 Then Roger and Cicely sit adowne under the white haw- 
 thorns, and he makes love to her in a shepherd-like waye, in 
 the midst of her flocke. She doth not minde sheepe's-eyes. 
 Even like Cupid and Psyche, as they are set forthe by a cun- 
 ning Flemishe Limner, as hath been my hap to behold in the 
 Low Countrye, wherein Cupid, with his one hand, is a toyinge 
 with the haires of his head ; but, with the other, he handleth 
 the fair neck of his mistresse, who sitteth discreetlye upon a 
 fiowerie bank, and lookes down as beseemes upon her shoon ; 
 for she is vain of her modestye. This I have seen at the 
 Hague. 
 
 And Roger sayth, O Cicely, Cicely, how prettye you be ; 
 whereat she doth open her mouth, and smiles loudly ; which, 
 when he heares, he sayth again, Nay, but I doe love thee 
 passing well, and with that lays a loud buss upon her cheek, 
 which cannot blushe by reason of its perfect ruddynesse. 
 Anon, he spreadeth in her lap the pink ribbands which he 
 bought at the wake, for her busking, and alsoe a great cake 
 of ginger brede, which causeth her heart to be in her mouthe. 
 Then, quoth he, The little Robins have got their mates, and 
 the prettye Finches be all paired, and why sholde not wel 
 And, quoth she, as he kisseth her, O Robin, Robin, you be 
 such a sweet-billed bird, that I must needes crye "Aye." 
 Wherefore, on the Sundaye, they go to the Parishe Churche, 
 that they may be joyned into one, and be no more single. 
 AVhither they walk tenderlye upon their toes, as if they
 
 16 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 stepped all the waye upon egges. And Roger hath a brave 
 bowpot at his bosom, which is full of Heart's Ease ; but Cicely 
 is decked with ribbands, a knot here, and a knot there, and 
 her head is furnished after a daintye fashion, soe that she 
 wishes, belike, that she was Roger, to see herselfe all round 
 about, — and content her eyes upon her own devices. 
 Whereas, Roger smells to his nosegaye ; but his looks travel, 
 as the crabbe goeth, which is side-wayes, towards Cicely ; and 
 he smiles sweetlye, to think how that he is going to be made 
 a husband-man, and alsoe of the good cheere which there will 
 be to eat that daye. Soe he walks up to the altar with a 
 stout harte; and when the parson hath made an ende, he 
 kisseth Cicely afreshe, and their markes are registered as man 
 and wife in the church bokes. 
 
 After which, some threescore yeares, it may befall you to 
 light on a grave-stone, and, on the wood thereof, to read as 
 f olloweth : — 
 
 " Here I bee, Roger Rackstrawe, which did live at Dipmore 
 Ende, of this Parishe — but now in this tomb. 
 
 " Time was that I did sowe and plough, 
 That lyes beneathe the furrowes now ; 
 But though Death sowes me with his graine, 
 I knowe that I shall spring againe." 
 
 Now is not this a life to be envyde, which needeth so many 
 men's paynes to paint its pleasures? For, saving the Law 
 clerkes, it is set forth by all that write upon sheepe's skins, 
 even the makers of pastoralls : wherein your Clowne is con- 
 stantly a figure of Poetry,— being allwayes amongst the leaves.
 
 THE PRAYSE OF IGNORANCE. 17 
 
 He is their Jack-i'-the-Green. — Wherefore I crye, for my owne 
 part, Oh ! that I were a. Boore ! Oh ! that I were a Boore ! 
 that troubleth no man, and is troubled of none. Who is 
 written, wherein he cannot read, and is mayde into Poetry, 
 that yet is no Poet ; for how sholde he make songs, that 
 knoweth not King Cadmus his alphabet, to pricke them down 
 withal 1 — 
 
 Seeing that he is nowayes learnede — nor hath never bitten 
 of the Apple of Knowledge, which was but a sowre crabbe 
 apple, whereby Adam his wisdom-teeth were set on edge. 
 Wherefore, he is much more a happye man, saying unto his 
 lusty yonge Dame, We twaine be one fleshe. — But the Poet 
 sayth to his mate, Thou art skin of my skin, and bone of my 
 bone ; soe that this saying is not a paradoxe, — That the Boke 
 Man is a Dunce in being Wise, — and the Clowne is wise, in 
 being a Dunce.
 
 iS 
 
 IVlIfMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 Miss Tree. 
 
 A VALENTINE. 
 
 II ! cruel heart ! ere these posthumous papers 
 Have met thine eyes, I shall be out of breath ; 
 
 Those cruel eyes, like two funereal tapers, 
 Have only lighted me the way to death.
 
 A VALENTINE. 19 
 
 Perchance, thou wilt extinguish them in vapours, 
 
 When I am gone, and green grass covereth 
 Thy lover, lost ; but it will be in vain — 
 It will not bring the vital spark again. 
 
 VL 
 
 Ah ! when thorie eyes, like tapers, burned so blue, 
 It seemed an omen that we must expect 
 
 The sprites of lovers : and it boded true, 
 For I am half a sprite — a ghost elect • 
 
 Wherefore I write to thee this last adieu, 
 With my last pen— before that I effect 
 
 My exit from the stage ; just stopp'd before 
 
 The tombstone steps that lead us to death's door. 
 
 in. 
 
 Full soon these living eyes, now liquid bright, 
 Will turn dead dull, and wear no radiance, save 
 
 They shed a dreary and inhuman light, 
 
 Illumed within by glow-worms of the grave ; 
 
 These ruddy cheeks, so pleasant to the sight, 
 These lusty legs, and all the limbs I have, 
 
 Will keep Death's carnival, and, foul or fresh, 
 
 Must, bid farewell, a long farewell, to flesh !
 
 2G WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Yea, and this very heart, that dies for thee, 
 As broken victuals to the worms will go ; 
 
 And all the world will dine again but me — 
 For I shall have no stomach ; — and I know, 
 
 When I am ghostly, thou wilt sprightly be 
 As now thou art : but will not tears of woe 
 
 Water thy spirits, with remorse adjunct, 
 
 When thou dost pause, and think of the defunct 1 
 
 And when thy soul is buried in a sleep, 
 In midnight solitude, and little dreaming 
 
 Of such a spectre — -what, if I should creep 
 Within thy presence in such dismal seeming 1 
 
 Thine eyes will stare themselves awake, and weep, 
 And thou wilt cross thyself with treble screaming, 
 
 And pray, with mingled penitence and dread 
 
 That I were less alive — or not so dead. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Then will thy heart confess thee, and reprove 
 This wilful homicide which thou hast done : 
 
 And the sad epitaph of so much love 
 Will eat into thy heart, as if in stone :
 
 A VALENTINE. 21 
 
 And all the lovers that around thee move, 
 
 Will read my fate, and tremble for their own ; 
 And strike upon their heartless breasts, and sigh, 
 " Man, born of woman, must of woman die ! " 
 
 VII. 
 
 Mine eyes grow dropsical — I can no more — 
 And what is written thou may'st scorn to read, 
 
 Shutting thy tearless eyes. — "lis done — 'tis o'er — 
 My hand is destined for another deed. 
 
 But one last word wrung from its aching core, 
 And my lone heart in silentness will bleed ; 
 
 Alas ! it ought to take a life to tell 
 
 That one last v/ord— that fare — fare — fare thee well 1
 
 22 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 LOVE. 
 
 LOVE 1 what art thou, Love 1 the ace of hearts, 
 Trumping earth's kings and queens, and all its suits ; 
 A player, masquerading many parts 
 
 In life's odd carnival ; — a boy that shoots*, 
 From ladies' eyes, such mortal woundy darts ; 
 
 A gardener, pulling heart's-ease up by the roots ; 
 The Puck of Passion — partly false — part real — 
 A marriageable maiden's " beau ideal." 
 
 O Love ! what art thou, Love ? a wicked thing, 
 Making green misses spoil their work at school ; 
 
 A melancholy man, cross-gartering 1 
 
 Grave ripe-faced wisdom made an April fool 1 
 
 A youngster tilting at a wedding ring ? 
 A sinner, sitting on a cuttie stool 1 
 
 A Ferdinand de Something in a hovel, 
 
 Helping Matilda Pose to make a novel 2
 
 LOVE. 23 
 
 O Love ! what art thou, Love 1 one that is bad 
 With palpitations of the heart — like mine — 
 
 A poor bewilder'd maid, making so sad 
 A necklace of her garters — fell design ! 
 
 A poet, gone unreasonably mad, 
 
 Ending his sonnets with a hempen line 1 
 
 Love ! — but whither now 1 forgive me, pray ; 
 
 1 'm not the first that Love hath led astray.
 
 24 
 
 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 " Rich and rare were the penis she wore.'' 
 
 PLEASE TO RING THE BELLE." 
 
 i. 
 
 'LL tell you a story that 's not in Tom Moore : — 
 Young Love likes to knock at a pretty girl's door 
 
 So he cali'd upon Lucy — 'twas just ten o'clock — 
 Like a spruce single man, with a smart double knock
 
 "PLEASE TO ELVG THE BELLE." 25 
 
 II. 
 
 Now, a handmaid, whatever her fingers be at, 
 Will run like a puss when she hears a rat-tai : 
 So Lucy ran up — and in two seconds more 
 Had question'd the stranger and answer'd the door. 
 
 in. 
 
 The meeting was bliss ; but the parting was woe ; 
 For the moment will come when such comers must go : 
 So she kiss'd him, and whisper'd — poor innocent thing- 
 " The next time you come, love, pray come with a ring."
 
 26 
 
 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 " The Cook's Oracle." 
 
 A RECIPE— FOR CIVILISATION. 
 
 The following Poem— is from the Pen of DOCTOR KITCHENER ! 
 — the most heterogeneous of Authors, but at the same time— in the 
 Sporting Latin of Mr Egan, — a real Homo-genius, or a Genius of a 
 Man ! in the Poem, his CULINARY ENTHUSIASM, as usual, 
 boils over ! and makes it seem written, as he describes himself (see 
 The Cook's Oracle) — with the Spit in one hand ! — and the Frying. 
 Pan in the other, — While in the style of the rhymes it is Hudibras- 
 
 tic, as if in the ingredients of Versification, he had been assisted 
 
 by his BUTLER!
 
 A RECIPE— FOR CIVILISATION 27 
 
 As a Head Cook, Optician — Physician, Music Master — Domestic 
 Economist and Death-bed Attorney ! — I have celebrated The 
 Author elsewhere with approbation : — And cannot now place him 
 
 upon the Table as a Poet, without still being his LAUDER, a 
 
 phrase which those persons whose course of classical reading recalls 
 the INFAMOUS FORGERY on The Immortal Bard of Avon ! 
 will find easy to understand. 
 
 URELY, those sages err who teach 
 
 That man is known from brutes by speech, 
 Which hardly severs man from woman, 
 But not th' inhuman from the human, — 
 Or else might parrots claim affinity, 
 And dogs be doctors by latinity, — 
 Not t' insist, (as might be shown.) 
 That beasts have gibberish of their own, 
 Which once was no dead tongue, though we 
 Since Esop's days have lost the key ; 
 Nor yet to hint dumb men, — and, still, not 
 Beasts that could gossip though they will not, 
 But play at dummy like the monkeys, 
 For fear mankind should make them flunkies. 
 Neither can man be known by feature 
 Or form, because so like a creature, 
 That some grave men could never shape 
 Which is the aped and which the ape, 
 Nor by his gait, nor by his height, 
 Nor yet because he 's black or white. 
 But rational, — for so we call 
 The only Cooking Animal .
 
 28 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 The only one who brings his bit 
 
 Of dinner to the pot or spit, 
 
 For where 's the lion e'er was hasty, 
 
 To put his ven'son in a pasty ? 
 
 Ergo, by logic, we repute, 
 
 That he who cooks is not a brute, — 
 
 But Equus brutum est, which means, 
 
 If a horse had sense he 'd boil his beans, 
 
 Nay, no one but a horse would forage 
 
 On naked oats instead of porridge, 
 
 Which proves, if brutes and Scotchmen vary, 
 
 The difference is culinary. 
 
 Further, as man is known by feeding 
 
 From brutes, — so men from men, in breeding, 
 
 Are still distinguish'd as they eat, 
 
 And raw in manner 's raw in meat, — 
 
 Look at the polish'd nations, hight 
 
 The civilised — the most polite 
 
 Is that which bears the praise of nations 
 
 For dressing eggs two hundred fashions, 
 
 Whereas, at savage feeders look, — 
 
 The less refined the less they cook ; 
 
 From Tartar grooms that merely straddle 
 
 Across a steak and warm their saddle, 
 
 Down to the Abyssinian squaw, 
 
 That bolts her chops and collops raw, 
 
 And, like a wild beast, cares as little 
 
 To dress her person as her victual, — -
 
 A RECIPE— FOR CIVILISATION. 29 
 
 For gowns, and gloves, and caps, and tippets, 
 
 Are beanty's sauces, spice, and sippets, 
 
 And not by shamble bodies put on, 
 
 But those who roast and boil their mutton ; 
 
 So Eve and Adam wore no dresses 
 
 Because they lived on water-cresses, 
 
 And till they learn'd to cook their crudities, 
 
 Went blind as beetles to their nudities. 
 
 For niceness comes from th' inner side, 
 
 (As an ox is drest before his hide,) 
 
 And when the entrail loathes vulgarity 
 
 The outward man will soon cull rarity, 
 
 For 'tis th' effect of what we eat 
 
 To make a man look like his meat, 
 
 As insects show their food's complexions ; 
 
 Thus fopling's clothes are like confections -. 
 
 But who, to feed a jaunty coxcomb, 
 
 Would have an Abyssinian ox come? — 
 
 Or serve a dish of fricassees, 
 
 To clodpoles in a coat of frize ] 
 
 Whereas a black would call for buffalo 
 
 Alive — and, no doubt, eat the offal too. 
 
 Now (this premised) it follows then 
 
 That certain culinary men 
 
 Should first go forth with pans and spits 
 
 To bring the heathens to their wits, 
 
 (For all wise Scotchmen of our century 
 
 Know that first steps are alimentary ;
 
 30 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 And, as we have proved, flesh pots and saucepans 
 
 Must pave the way for Wilberforce plans ;) 
 
 But Bunyan err'd to think the near gate 
 
 To take man's soul, was battering Ear gate, 
 
 When reason should have work'd her course 
 
 As men of war do — when their force 
 
 Can't take a town by open courage, 
 
 They steal an entry with its forage. 
 
 What reverend bishop, for example, 
 
 Could preach horn'd Apis from his temple ] 
 
 Whereas a cook would soon unseat him, 
 
 And make his own churchwardens eat him. 
 
 Not Irving could convert those vermin 
 
 Th' Anthropophages, by a sermon ; 
 
 Whereas your Osborne,* in a trice, 
 
 Would u take a shin of beef and spice," — 
 
 And raise them such a savoury smother, 
 
 No Negro would devour his brother, 
 
 But turn his stomach round as loth 
 
 As Bersians, to the old black broth, — 
 
 For knowledge oftenest makes an entry, 
 
 As well as true love, through the pantry, 
 
 Where beaux that came at first for feeding 
 
 Grow gallant men and get good breeding ; — 
 
 Exempli gratia— in the West, 
 
 Ship-traders say there swims a nest 
 
 * Cook to the late Sir Joseph Banks.
 
 A RECIPE— FOR CIVILISATION. 31 
 
 Lined with black natives, like a rookery, 
 But coarse as carrion crows at cookery. — 
 This race, though now call'd O. Y. E. men, 
 (To show they are more than A. B. C. men,) 
 Was once so ignorant of our knacks 
 They laid their mats upon their backs, 
 And grew their quartern loaves for luncheon 
 On trees that baked them in the sunshine. 
 As for their bodies, they were coated, 
 (For painted things are so denoted ;) 
 But, the naked truth is stark primevals, 
 That said their prayers to timber devils, 
 Allow' d polygamy — dwelt in wigwams, — 
 And, when they meant a feast, ate big yams. — • 
 And why ? — because their savage nook 
 Had ne'er been visited by Cook, — 
 And so they fared till our great chief, 
 Brought them, not methodists, but beef 
 In tubs, — and taught them how to live, 
 Knowing it was too soon to give, 
 Just then, a homily on their sins, 
 (For cooking ends ere grace begins,) 
 Or hand his tracts to the untractable 
 Till they could keep a more exact table — 
 For nature has her proper courses, 
 And wild men must be back'd like horses, 
 Which, jockeys know, are never fit 
 For riding till they 've had a bit
 
 3* WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 I' the mouth ; but then, with proper tackle, 
 You may trot them to a tabernacle, 
 Ergo (I say) he first made changes 
 In the heathen modes, by kitchen ranges, 
 And taught the king's cook, by convincing 
 Process, that chewing was not mincing, 
 And in her black fist thrust a bundle 
 Of tracts abridged from Glasse and Rundell, 
 Where, ere she had read beyond Welsh rabbits, 
 She saw the spareness of her habits, 
 And round her loins put on a striped 
 Towel, where fingers might be wiped, 
 And then her breast clothed like her ribs, 
 (For aprons lead of course to bibs,) 
 And, by the time she had got a meat- 
 Screen, veil'd her back, too, from the heat — 
 As for her gravies and her sauces, 
 (Though they reformed the royal fauces,) 
 Her forcemeats and ragouts, — I praise not, 
 Because the legend further says not, 
 Except, she kept each Christian high-day, 
 And once upon a fat good Fry- day 
 Ran short of logs, and told the Pagan 
 That turn'd the spit, to chop up Dagon !
 
 *' bon of the sleepless."
 
 34 
 
 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 Tell me, my heart, can this be Love ? " 
 
 ON THE POPULAR CUPID. 
 
 ME figure above was copied, by permission, from a 
 lady's Valentine. To the common apprehension it 
 represents only a miracle of stall-feeding — a babe- Lambert — 
 a caravan-prodigy of grossness, — but, in the romantic mytho- 
 logy, it is the image of the Divinity of Love. —
 
 ON THE POPULAR CUPID. 3S 
 
 In sober verity, — does such an incubus oppress the female 
 bosom 1 Can such, a monster of obesity be coeval with the 
 gossamer natures of Sylph and Fairy in the juvenile faith 1 
 Is this he — the buoyant Camdeo, — that, in the mind's eye of 
 the poetess, drifts adown the Ganges in a lotus — 
 
 " Pillow'd in a lotus flower 
 Gather'd in a summer hour, 
 Floats he o'er the mountain wave, 
 Which would he a tall ship's grave ! " — 
 
 Is this personage the disproportionate partner for whom 
 Pastorella sigheth, — in the smallest? of cots ! Does the 
 platonic Amanda (who is all soul) refer, in her discourses on 
 Love, to this palpable being, who is all body 1 ? Or does 
 Belinda, indeed, believe that such a substantial Sagittarius 
 lies ambushed in her perilous blue eye 1 
 
 It is in the legend that a girl of Provence was smitten 
 once, and died, by the marble Apollo : but did impassioned 
 damsel ever dote, and wither, beside the pedestal of this pre- 
 posterous effigy 1 or rather, is not the unseemly emblem 
 accountable for the coyness and proverbial reluctance of 
 maidens to the approaches of Love 1 
 
 I can believe in his dwelling alone in the heart — seeing 
 that he must occupy it to repletion ; — in his constancy, be- 
 cause he looks sedentary and not apt to roam. That he is 
 given to melt — from his great pinguitude. That he burnetii 
 with a flame, for so all fat burneth — and hath languishings — 
 like other bodies of his tonnage. That he sighs — from his 
 size. —
 
 36 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 I dispute not his kneeling at ladies' feet — since it is the 
 posture of elephants, — nor his promise that the homage shall 
 remain eternal. I doubt not of his dying, — being of a cor- 
 pulent habit, and a short neck. — Of his blindness — with that 
 inflated pig's cheek. But for his lodging in Belinda's blue 
 eye, my whole faith is heretic — for she hath never a sty in it! 
 
 ^sa^p^
 
 THE LAST MAN. 
 
 3/ 
 
 Ci The Last Man." 
 
 THE LAST MAN. 
 
 WAS in the year two thousand and one, 
 A pleasant morning of May, 
 [ sat on the gallows-tree all alone, 
 A chaunting a merry lay, — ■ 
 To think how the pest had spared my life, 
 To sing with the larks that day ! _,
 
 38 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 When up the heath came a jolly knave, 
 Like a scarecrow, all in rags : 
 It made me crow to see his old duds 
 All abroad in the wind, like flags : — 
 So up he came to the timbers' foot 
 And pitch'd down his greasy bags. — 
 
 Good Lord ! how blythe the old beggar was ! 
 
 At pulling out his scraps, — 
 
 The very sight of his broken orts 
 
 Made a work in his wrinkled chaps : 
 
 " Come down," says he, "you Newgate bird. 
 
 And have a taste of my snaps !" 
 
 Then down the rope, like a tar from the mast, 
 
 I slided, and by him stood ; 
 
 But I wish'd myself on the gallows again 
 
 When I smelt that beggar's food, 
 
 A foul beef-bone and a mouldy crust ; 
 
 " Oh !" quoth he, " the heavens are good !" 
 
 Then after this grace he cast him down : 
 
 Says I, " You '11 get sweeter air 
 
 A pace or two off, on the windward side," 
 
 For the felons' bones lay there. 
 
 But he only laugh'd at the empty skulls, 
 
 And offer'd them part of his fare.
 
 THE LAST MAN. 39 
 
 " I never harm'd them, and they won't harm me : 
 
 Let the proud and the rich be cravens ! " 
 
 I did not like that strange beggar man, 
 
 He look'd so up at the heavens. 
 
 Anon he shook out his empty old poke ; 
 
 "There 's the crumbs," saith he, " for the ravens I" 
 
 It made me angry to see his face, 
 
 It had such a jesting look ; 
 
 But while I made up my mind to speak, 
 
 A small case-bottle he took : 
 
 Quoth he, " Though I gather the green water-cress, 
 
 My drink is not of the brook ! " 
 
 Full manners-like he tender'd the dram ; 
 
 Oh, it came of a dainty cask ! 
 
 But, whenever it came to his turn to pull, 
 
 " Your leave, good sir, I must ask ; 
 
 But I always wipe the brim with my sleeve, 
 
 When a hangman sups at my flask ! " 
 
 And then he laugh'd so loudly and long, 
 
 The churl was quite out of breath ; 
 
 I thought the very Old One was come 
 
 To mock me before my death, 
 
 And wish'd I had buried the dead men's bones 
 
 That were lying about the heath !
 
 40 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 But the beggar gave me a jolly clap — 
 "Come, let us pledge each other, 
 For all the wide world is dead beside, 
 And we are brother and brother — 
 I 've a yearning for thee in my heart, 
 As if we had come of one mother. 
 
 " I 've a yearning for thee in my heart 
 That almost makes me weep, 
 For as I pass'd from town to town 
 The folks were all stone-asleep, — 
 But when I saw thee sitting aloft. 
 It made me both laugh and leap !'' 
 
 Now a curse (I thought) be on his love, 
 
 And a curse upon his mirth, — 
 
 An' it were not for that beggar man 
 
 I 'd be the King of the earth,- — 
 
 But I promised myself an hour should come 
 
 To make him rue his birth — 
 
 So down we sat and boused again 
 
 Till the sun was in mid-sky, 
 
 When, just when the gentle west-wind came, 
 
 We hearken'd a dismal cry ; 
 
 " Up, up, on the tree," quoth the beggar man, 
 
 " Till these horrible dogs go by " !
 
 THE LAST MAN. 4* 
 
 And, lo ! from the forest's far-off skirts, 
 
 They came all yelling for gore, 
 
 A hundred hounds pursuing at once, 
 
 And a panting hart before, 
 
 Till he sunk adown at the gallows' foot. 
 
 And there his haunches they tore ! 
 
 His haunches they tore, without a horn 
 To tell when the chase was done ; 
 And there was not a single scarlet coat 
 To flaunt it in the sun ! — ■ 
 I turn'd, and look'd at the beggar man, 
 And his tears dropt one by one ! 
 
 And with curses sore he chid at the hounds, 
 
 Till the last dropt out of sight, 
 
 Anon, saith he, "Let's down again, 
 
 And ramble for our delight, 
 
 For the world 's all free, and we may choose 
 
 A right cozie barn for to-night ! " 
 
 With that, he set up his staff on end, 
 And it fell with the point due West ; 
 So we fared that way to a city great, 
 Where the folks had died of the pest — 
 It was fine to enter in house and hail, 
 Wherever it liked me best ; —
 
 42 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 For the porters all were stiff and cold, 
 
 And could not lift their heads ; 
 
 And when he came where their masters lay, 
 
 The rats leapt out of the beds : 
 
 The grandest palaces in the land 
 
 Were as free as workhouse sheds. 
 
 But the beggar man made a mumping face, 
 
 And knock'd at every gate : 
 
 It made me curse to hear how he whined, 
 
 So our fellowship turn'd to hate, 
 
 And I bade him walk the world by himself, 
 
 For I scorn'd so humble a mate ! 
 
 So he turn'd right, and I turn'd left, 
 
 As if we had never met • 
 
 And I chose a fair stone house for myself, 
 
 For the city was all to let ; 
 
 And for three brave holydays drank my fill 
 
 Of the choicest that I could get. 
 
 And because my jerkin was coarse and worn, 
 
 I got me a properer vest ; 
 
 It was purple velvet, stitch'd o'er with gold, 
 
 And a shining star at the breast ! — 
 
 Twas enough to fetch old Joan from her grave 
 
 To see me so purely drest !
 
 THE LAST MAN. 43 
 
 But Joan was dead and under the mould, 
 
 And every buxom lass ; 
 
 In vain I watcli'd, at the window pane, 
 
 For a Christian soul to pass ! 
 
 But sheep and kine wander'd up the street, 
 
 And browsed on the new-come grass. — 
 
 When lo ! I spied the old beggar man, 
 
 And lustily he did sing ! — ■ 
 
 His rags were lapp'd in a scarlet cloak, 
 
 And a crown he had like a King ; 
 
 So he stepp'd right up before my gate 
 
 And danced me a saucy fling ! 
 
 Heaven mend us all ! — -but, within my mind, 
 I had kill'd him then and there ; 
 To see him lording so braggartdike 
 That was born to his beggar's fare, 
 And how he had stolen the royal crown 
 His betters were meant to wear. 
 
 But God forbid that a thief should die 
 
 Without his share of the laws ! 
 
 So I nimbly whipt my tackle out, 
 
 And soon tied up his claws, — 
 
 I was judge, myself, and jury, and all, 
 
 And solemnly tried the cause.
 
 4 \ WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 But the beggar man would not plead, but cried 
 
 Like a babe without its corals, 
 
 For he knew how hard it is apt to go 
 
 When the law and a thief have quarrels, — 
 
 There was not a Christian soul alive 
 
 To speak a word for his morals. 
 
 Oh, how gaily I doff 'd my costly gear, 
 
 And put on my work-day clothes ; 
 
 I was tired of such a long Sunday life, — 
 
 And never was one of the sloths ; 
 
 But the beggar man grumbled a weary deal, 
 
 And made many crooked mouths. 
 
 So I haul'd him off to the gallows' foot, 
 
 And blinded him in his bags ; 
 
 'Twas a weary job to heave him up, 
 
 For a doom'd man always lags ; 
 
 But by ten of the clock he was off his legs 
 
 In the wind, and airing his rags ! 
 
 So there he hung, and there I stood, 
 
 The LAST MAN left alive, 
 
 To have my own will of all the earth : 
 
 Quoth I, now I shall thrive ! 
 
 But when was ever honey made 
 
 With one bee in a hive !
 
 THE LAST MAN. 45 
 
 My conscience began to gnaw my heart, 
 
 Before the day was done, 
 
 For other men's lives had all gone out, 
 
 Like candles in the sun ! — 
 
 But it seem'd as if I had broke, at last, 
 
 A thousand necks in one ! 
 
 So I went and cut his body down 
 
 To bury it decentlie ; — 
 
 God send there were any good soul alive 
 
 To do the like by me ! 
 
 But the wild dogs came with terrible speed, 
 
 And bade me up the tree ! 
 
 My sight was like a drunkard's sight, 
 And my head began to swim, 
 To see their jaws all white with foam, 
 Like the ravenous ocean brim ; — 
 But when the wild dogs trotted away 
 Their jaws were bloody and grim ! 
 
 Their jaws were bloody and grim, good Lord ! 
 
 But the beggar man, where was he % — ■ 
 
 There was nought of him but some ribbons of rags 
 
 Below the gallows' tree 1 — 
 
 I know the Devil, when I am dead, 
 
 Will send his hounds for me ! — ■
 
 46 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 I 've buried my babies one by one, 
 And dug the deep hole for Joan, 
 And cover'd the faces of kith and kin, 
 And felt the old churchyard stone 
 Go cold to my heart, full many a time, 
 But I never felt so lone ! 
 
 For the lion and Adam were company, 
 And the tiger him beguiled ; 
 But the simple kine are foes to my life, 
 And the household brutes are wild. 
 If the veriest cur would lick my hand, 
 I could love it like a child ! 
 
 And the beggar man's ghost besets my dream 
 
 At night, to make me madder, — 
 
 And my wretched conscience within my breast 
 
 Is like a stinging adder ; — 
 
 I sigh when I pass the gallows' foot, 
 
 And look at the rope and ladder !— 
 
 For hanging looks sweet, — but, alas ! in vain 
 
 My desperate fancy begs, — 
 
 I must turn my cup of sorrows quite up, 
 
 And drink it to the dregs, — 
 
 For there is not another man alive, 
 
 In the world, to pull my legs !
 
 " Pigmy and Crane,"
 
 43 
 
 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 v-hi u 
 
 '//I r* in 
 
 Christmas Pantomime. 
 
 THE BALLAD OF "SALLY BROWN, AND BEN 
 THE CARPENTER." 
 
 1 HAVE never been vainer of any verses than of my part in the following 
 Ballad. Dr Watts, amongst evangelical nurses, has an enviable 
 renown — and Campbell's Ballads enjoy a snug genteel popularity. 
 " Sally Brown" lias been favoured, perhaps, with as wide a patron-
 
 SALLY BROWN. 49 
 
 age as the Moral Songs, though its circle may not hf.ve been of so 
 select a class as the friends of " Hohenlinden." But I do not 
 desire to see it amongst what are called Elegant Extracts. The 
 lamented Emery, drest as Tom Tug, sang it at his last mortal 
 Benefit at Covent Garden ; — and, ever since, it has been a great 
 favourite with the watermen of Thames, who time theii oars to it, 
 as the wherry-men of Venice time theirs to the lines of Tasso. 
 With the watermen, it went naturally to Vauxhall : — and, over 
 land, to Sadler's Wells. The Guards, not the mail coach, but the 
 Life Guards, — picked it out from a fluttering hundred of others — 
 all going to one air — against the dead-wall at Knightsbridge. 
 Cheap Printers of Shoe Lane, and Cow-cross, (all pirates !) 
 disputed about the Copyright, and published their own editions, — 
 and, in the mean time, the Authors, to have made bread of their 
 song, (it was poor old Homer's hard ancient case!) must have 
 sung it about the streets. Such is the lot of Literature ! the profits 
 of " Sally Brown" were divided by the Ballad Mongers: — it has 
 cost, but has never brought me, a half-penny. 
 
 FAITHLESS SALLY BROWN. 
 
 >^ 
 
 AN OLD BALLAD. 
 
 IJOUNG BEN he was a nice young man,, 
 A carpenter by trade ; 
 And he fell in iove with Sally Brown, 
 That was a lady 's maid. 
 
 But as they fetch'd a walk one day, 
 
 They met a press-gang crew ; 
 And Sally she did faint away, 
 
 Whilst Ben he was brought to.
 
 5o WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 The Boatswain swore with wicked words, 
 
 Enough to shock a saint, 
 That though she did seem in a fit, 
 
 'Twas nothing but a feint. 
 
 '• Come, girl," said he, " hold up your head, 
 
 He '11 be as good as me ; 
 Fur when your swain is in our boat, 
 
 A boatswain he will be." 
 
 So when they 'd made their game of her, 
 
 And taken off her elf, 
 She roused, and found she only was 
 
 A coming to herself. 
 
 " And is he gone, and is he gone 2 " 
 She cried, and wept outright : 
 
 " Then I will to the water side, 
 And see him out of sight." 
 
 A waterman came up to her, 
 " Now, young woman," said he, 
 
 " If you weep on so, you will make 
 Eye-water in the sea."
 
 SALLY BROWN. %i 
 
 " Alas ; they 've taken my beau Ben 
 
 To sail with old Benbow ; " 
 And her woe began to run afresh, 
 As if she 'd said Gee woe ! 
 
 Says he, " They 've only taken him 
 To the Tender ship, you see ; " 
 
 " The Tender-ship," cried Sally Brown, 
 " What a hard-ship that must be ! 
 
 " Oh ! would I were a mermaid now, 
 For then I 'd follow him ; 
 
 But oh ! — I 'in not a fish- woman, 
 And so I cannot swim. 
 
 " Alas ! I was not born beneath 
 The Virgin and the Scales, 
 
 So I must curse my cruel stars, 
 And walk about in Wales." 
 
 Now Ben had sailed to many a place 
 That 's underneath the world ; 
 
 But in two years the ship came home, 
 And all her sails were furled.
 
 52 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 But when he call'd on Sally Brown, 
 To see how she Avent on, 
 
 He found she 'd got another Ben, 
 Whose Christian-name was John. 
 
 " Sally Brown, Sally Brown, 
 How could you serve me so 1 ? 
 
 I 've met with many a breeze before, 
 But never such a blow : " 
 
 Then reading on his 'bacco box, 
 He heaved a bitter sigh, 
 
 And then began to eye his pipe, 
 And then to pipe his eye. 
 
 And then he tried to sing " All 's Well/' 
 But could not though he tried ; 
 
 His head was turn'd, and so he chew'd 
 His pigtail till he died. 
 
 His death, which happen'd in his birth. 
 
 At forty-odd befell : 
 They went and told the sexton, and 
 
 The sexton toll'd the bell.
 
 BACKING THE FAVOURITE. 
 
 53 
 
 " my bonny, bonny Bet I " 
 
 BACKING THE FAVOURITE. 
 
 H a pistol, or a knife ! 
 For I 'm weary of my life, 
 
 My cup has nothing sweet left to flavour it ; 
 My estate is out at nurse, 
 And my heart is like my purse, — 
 
 And all through backing of the Favourite ! 
 
 D
 
 54 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 At dear O'Neil's first start, 
 I sported all my heart, — 
 
 Oh, Becher, he never marr'd a braver hit ! 
 For he cross'd her in her race, 
 And made her lose her place, 
 
 And there was an end of that Favourite ! 
 
 Anon, to mend my chance, 
 For the Goddess of the Dance * 
 
 I pined, and told my enslaver it ! — 
 But she wedded in a canter, 
 And made me a Levanter, 
 
 In foreign lands to sigh for the Favourite ! 
 
 Then next Miss M. A. Tree 
 I adored, so sweetly she 
 
 Could warble like a nightingale and quaver it,- 
 But she left that course of life 
 To be Mr Bradshaw's wife, 
 
 And all the world lost on the Favourite ! 
 
 * The late favourite of the King's Theatre, who left the pas seul of 
 life, for a perpetual Ball. Is not that her effigy now commonly borne 
 about by the Italian image venders — an ethereal form holding a wreath 
 with both hands above her head — and her husband, in emblem, beneath 
 her foot?
 
 BACKING THE FAVOURITE. 55 
 
 But out of sorrow's surf 
 Soon I leap'd upon the turf, 
 
 Where fortune loves to wanton it and waver it ; — 
 But standing on the pet, 
 " O my bonny, bonny Bet ! " 
 
 Black and yellow pull'd short up with the Favourite ! 
 
 Thus flung by all the crack, 
 I resolved to cut the pack, — 
 
 The second-raters seem'd then a safer hit ! 
 So I laid my little odds 
 Against Memnon ! O ye Gods ! 
 
 Am I always to be floor'd by the Favourite !
 
 :6 
 
 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 " Oh, that this too too solid flesh would melt ! " 
 
 A COMPLAINT AGAINST GREATNESS. 
 
 AM an unfortunate creature, the most wretched of all 
 that groan under the burden of the flesh. I am 
 fainting, as they say of kings, under my oppressive greatness. 
 A miserable Atlas, I siidc under the world of — myself.
 
 A COMPLAINT AGAINST GREATNESS. 57 
 
 But the curious will here ask me for my name. I am, then, 
 or they say I am, " The Reverend Mr Farmer, a four-years' 
 old Durham Ox, fed by himself, upon oil-cake and mangel- 
 wurzel : " but I resemble that worthy agricultural Vicar only 
 in my fat living. In plain truth, I am an unhappy candidate 
 for the show at Sadler's, not "the Wells," but the Repository. 
 They tell me I am to bear the bell, (as if I had not enough 
 to bear already !) by my surpassing tonnage — and, doubtless, 
 the prize-emblem will be proportioned to my uneasy merits. 
 With a great Tom of Lincoln about my neck — alas ! what will 
 it comfort me to have been " commended by the judges " 1 
 
 Wearisome and painful was my pilgrim-like progress to this 
 place, by short and tremulous steppings, like the digit's march 
 upon a dial. My owner, jealous of my fat, procured a crippled 
 drover, with a withered limb, for my conductor ; but even he 
 hurried me beyond my breath. The drawling hearse left me 
 labouring behind ; the ponderous fly- waggon passed me like a 
 bird upon the road, so tediously slow is my pace. It just 
 sufficeth, ye thrice-happy Oysters ! that have no locomotive 
 faculty at all, to distinguish that I am not at rest. Wherever 
 the grass grew by the way-side, how it tempted my natural 
 longings — the cool brook flowed at my very foot, but this 
 short thick neck forbade me to eat or drink : nothing but my 
 redundant dewlap is likely ever to graze on the ground ! 
 
 If stalls and troughs were not extant, I must perish. 
 Nature has given to the Elephant a long flexible tube, or 
 trunk, so that he can feed his mouth, as it were, by his nose ; 
 but is man able to furnish me with such an implement 1 Or
 
 58 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 would he not still withhold it, lest I should prefer the green 
 herb, my natural delicious diet, and reject his rank, unsavoury 
 condiments 1 What beast, with free will, but would repair 
 to the sweet meadow for its pasture; and yet how grossly is 
 he labelled and libelled 1 Your bovine servant, — in the cata- 
 logue, is a " Durham Ox, fed by himself, (as if he had any 
 election,) upon oil-cake." 
 
 I wonder what rapacious Cook, with an eye to her insatiable 
 grease-pot and kitchen perquisites, gave the hint of this system 
 of stall-feeding ! What unctuous Hull Merchant, or candle- 
 loving Muscovite, made this grossness a desideratum ? If 
 mine were, indeed, like the fat of the tender sucking pig, 
 that delicate gluten ! there would be reason for its unbounded 
 promotion ; but to see the prize steak, loaded with that rank 
 yellow abomination, (the lamplighters know its relish,) might 
 wean a man from carnivorous habits for ever. Verily, it is 
 an abuse of the Christmas holly, the emblem of Old English 
 and wholesome cheer, to plant it upon such blubber. A 
 gentlemanly entrail must be driven to extreme straits, indeed, 
 (Davis's Straits,) to feel any yearnings for such a meal ; and 
 yet I am told that an assembly of gentry, with all the cele- 
 brations of full bumpers and a blazing chimney-pot, have 
 honoured the broiled slices of a prize bullock, a dishful of 
 stringy fibres, an animal cabbage-net, and that rank even hath 
 been satisfied with its rankness. 
 
 Will the honourable club, whose aim it is thus to make the 
 beastly nature more beastly, consider of this matter 1 Will 
 the hunane, when they provide against the torments of cats
 
 A COMPLAINT AGAINST GREATNESS. 59 
 
 and dogs, take no notice of our condition ! Nature, to the 
 whales, and creatures of their corpulence, has assigned the 
 cool deeps ; but we have no such refuge in our meltings. 
 At least, let the stall-feeder confine his system to the uncleanly- 
 swine which chews, not the cud ; for let the worthy members 
 conceive on the palate of imagination, the abominable returns 
 of the refuse-linseed in our after ruminations. Oh, let us not 
 suffer in vain ! It may seem presumption in a brute, to ques- 
 tion the human wisdom ; but, truly, I can perceive no bene- 
 ficial ends, worthy to be set off against our sufferings. There 
 must be, methinks, a nearer way of augmenting the perquisites 
 of the kitchen-wench and the fire-man, — of killing frogs, — 
 than by exciting them, at the expense of us poor blown-up 
 Oxen, to a mortal inflation. 
 
 cr»^isfe«P^>
 
 6o 
 
 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 •>ifc«i*2» 
 
 '• All 'a well that ends well." 
 
 THE MERMAID OF MARGATE. 
 
 " Alas ! what perils do inviron 
 That man who meddles with a siren ! " 
 
 HttDIBKAS. 
 
 SfflN Margate beach, where the sick one roams, 
 And the sentimental reads ; 
 Where the maiden flirts, and the widow comes — 
 Like the ocean — to cast her weeds \ —
 
 THE MERMAID OF MARGA TE. bi 
 
 Where urchins wander to pick up shells, 
 
 And the Cit to spy at the ships, — 
 Like the water gala at Sadler's Wells, — 
 
 And the Chandler for watery dips ; — 
 
 There 's a maiden sits by the ocean brim, 
 
 As lovely and fair as sin ! 
 But woe, deep water and woe to him, 
 
 That she snareth like Peter Fin ! 
 
 Her head is crown'd with pretty sea-wares, 
 
 And her locks are golden and loose : 
 And seek to her feet, like other folks' heirs, 
 
 To stand, of course, in her shoes ! 
 
 And all day long she combeth them well, 
 
 With a sea-shark's prickly jaw ; 
 And her mouth is just like a rose-lipp'd shell, 
 
 The fairest that man e'er saw ! 
 
 And the Fishmonger, humble as love may be, 
 
 Hath planted his seat by her side ; 
 " Good ev'n, fair maid ! Is thy lover at sea, 
 
 To make thee so watch the tide 1 " 
 
 She turn'd about with her pearly brows, 
 
 And clasp'd him by the hand ; 
 " Come, love, with me ; I've a bonny house 
 
 On the golden Goodwin Sand."
 
 62 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 A.nd then she gave him a siren kiss, 
 No honeycomb e'er was sweeter : 
 
 Poor wretch ! how little he dreamt for this 
 That Peter should be salt-Peter : 
 
 And away with her prize to the wave she leapt, 
 
 Not walking, as damsels do, 
 With toe and heel, as she ought to have stept, 
 
 But she hopt like a Kangaroo ; 
 
 One plunge, and then the victim was blind, 
 Whilst they gallop'd across the tide ; 
 
 At last, on the bank he waked in his mind, 
 And the Beauty was by his side. 
 
 One half on the sand, and half in the sea, 
 But his hair all began to stiffen ; 
 
 For when he look'd where her feet should be, 
 She had no more feet than Miss Biffen ! 
 
 But a scaly tail, of a dolphin's growth, 
 In the dabbling brine did soak : 
 
 At last she open'd her pearly mouth, 
 Like an oyster, and thus she spoke : 
 
 " You crimpt my father, who was a skate, — 
 And my sister you sold — a maid ; 
 
 So here remain for a fish'ry fate, 
 For lost you are, and betray'd ! "
 
 THE MERMAID OF MARGA TE. 63 
 
 And away she went, with a seagull's scream, 
 
 And a splash of her saucy tail ; 
 In a moment he lost the silvery gleam 
 
 That shone on her splendid mail ! 
 
 The sun went down with a blood-red flame, 
 
 And the sky grew cloudy and black, 
 And the tumbling billows like leap-frog came, 
 
 Each over the other's back ! 
 
 Ah me ! it had been a beautiful scent, 
 
 With the safe terra-firma round ; 
 But the green water-hillocks all seem'd to him 
 
 Like those in a church-yard ground ; 
 
 And Christians love in the turf to lie, 
 
 Not in watery graves to be ; 
 Nay, the very fishes will sooner die 
 
 On the land than in the sea. 
 
 And whilst he stood, the watery strife 
 
 Encroach'd on every hand, 
 And the ground decreased, — his moments of life 
 
 Seem'd measured, like Time's, by sand ; 
 
 And still the waters foam'd in, like ale, 
 
 In front, and on either flank, 
 He knew that Goodwin and Co. must fail, 
 
 There was such a run on the bank.
 
 64 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 A little more, and a little more, 
 
 The surges came tumbling in ; 
 He sang the evening hymn twice o'er, 
 
 And thought of every sin ! 
 
 Each flounder and plaice lay cold at his heart, 
 
 As cold as his marble slab ; 
 And he thought he felt, in every part, 
 
 The pincers of scalded crab ! 
 
 The squealing lobsters that he had boil'd, 
 
 And the little potted shrimps, 
 All the horny prawns he had ever spoil'd, 
 
 Gnaw'd into his soul, like imps ! 
 
 And the billows were wandering to and fro, 
 And the glorious sun was sunk, 
 
 And Day, getting black in the face, as though 
 Of the night-shade she had drunk ! 
 
 Had there been but a smuggler's cargo adrift, 
 One tub, or keg, to be seen, 
 i It might have given his spirits a lift 
 Or an anker where Hope might lean ! 
 
 But there was not a box or a beam afloat, 
 To raft him from that sad place ; 
 
 Not a skiff, not a yawl, or a maokarel boat, 
 Nor a smack upon Neptune's face.
 
 THE MERMAID OF MARGA TE. &J 
 
 At last, his lingering hopes to buoy, 
 
 He saw a sail and a mast, 
 And call'd " Ahoy ! " — but it was not a boy, 
 
 And so the vessel went past. 
 
 And with saucy wing that flapp'd in his face, 
 
 The wild bird about him flew, 
 With a shrilly scream, that twitted his case, 
 
 " Why, thou art a sea-gull too ! " 
 
 And lo ! the tide was over his feet ; 
 
 Oh ! his heart began to freeze, 
 And slowly to pulse : — in another beat 
 
 The wave was up to his knees ! 
 
 He was deafen'd amidst the mountain-tops, 
 
 And the salt spray blinded his eyes, 
 And wash'd away the other salt drops 
 
 That grief had caused to arise : — 
 
 But just as his body was all afloat, 
 
 And the surges above him broke, 
 He was saved from the hungry deep by a boat 
 
 Of Deal— (but builded of oak.) 
 
 The skipper gave him a dram, as he lay, 
 
 And chafed his shivering skin : 
 And the Angel return'd that was flying away 
 
 With the spirit of Peter Fin !
 
 t>6 
 
 WHIMS AND ODDITIES, 
 
 My Son, Sir. 
 
 MY SOX, SIR. 
 
 T happened, the other evening, that, intending to call at 
 
 L Street, I arrived a few minutes before Hyson ; 
 
 when W * * * seated besido the Urn, his eyes shaded by 
 his hand, was catechising his learned prodigy, the Master 
 Hopeful, as if for a tea-table degree. It was a whimsical
 
 MY SON, SIR. 67 
 
 contrast, between the fretful, pouting visage of the urchin, 
 having his gums rubbed so painfully, to bring forward his 
 wisdom-tooth — and the parental visage, sage, solemn, and 
 satisfied, and appealing ever and anon, by a dramatic side- 
 look, to the circle of smirking auditors. 
 
 "\y * * * W as fond of this kind of display, eternally stirring 
 up the child for exhibition with his troublesome long pole, — 
 besides lecturing him through the diurnal vacations so 
 tediously, that the poor urchin was fain, — for the sake of a 
 little play, — to get into school again. 
 
 I hate all forcing-frames for the young intellect, — and the 
 Locke system, which after all is but a Canal system for 
 raising the babe-mind to unnatural levels. I pity the poor 
 child that is learned in alpha beta, but ignorant of top and 
 taw ; and was never so maliciously gratified as when, in spite 
 of all his promptings and leading questions, I beheld W 4 
 reddening, even to the conscious tips of his tingling ears, at 
 the boy's untimely inaptitude. Why could he not rest con- 
 tented, when the poor imp had answered him already, " What 
 was a Roman Emperor 1 " — without requiring an interpreta- 
 tion of the Logos ? 
 
 ^K^m^p 1
 
 b8 
 
 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 As it fell upon a day. 
 
 "AS IT FELT. UPON A DAY." 
 
 WONDER that W , the Ami des Enfans, has 
 
 never written a sonnet, or ballad, on a girl that had 
 broken her pitcher. There are in the subject the poignant 
 heart's anguish for sympathy and description ; — and the 
 brittlencss of jars and joys, with the abrupt loss of the watery
 
 " AS IT FELL UPON A DAY." 69 
 
 fruits — (the pumpkins as it were) of her labours, for a moral. 
 In such childish accidents there is a world of woe ; — the fall 
 of earthenware is to babes, as, to elder contemplations, the 
 Fall of Man. 
 
 I have often been tempted myself to indite a didactic ode 
 to that urchin in Hogarth with the ruined pie-dish. What a 
 lusty anguish is wringing him — so that all for pity he could 
 die ; — and then there is the instantaneous falling on of the 
 Beggar Girl to lick up the fragments — expressively hinting 
 how universally want and hunger are abounding in this miser- 
 able world, — and ready gaping at every turn, for such wind- 
 falls and stray Godsends. But, hark ! — what a shrill, feline 
 cry startleth the wide Aldgate ! 
 
 Oh ! Avhat 's befallen Bessy Brown, 
 She stands so squalling in the street ; 
 
 She 's let her pitcher tumble down, 
 And all the water 's at her feet ! 
 
 The little schoolboys stood about, 
 
 And laugh'd to see her pumping, pumping ; 
 
 Now with a curtsey to the spout, 
 And then upon her tiptoes jumping. 
 
 Long time she waited for her neighbours 
 To have their turns : — but she must lose 
 
 The watery wages of her labours, — 
 Except a little in her shoes ! 
 
 E
 
 70 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 Without a voice to tell her tale, 
 And ugly transport in her face ; 
 
 All like a jugless nightingale, 
 She thinks of her bereaved case. 
 
 At last she sobs — she cries — she screams ! — - 
 And pours her flood of sorrows out, 
 
 From eyes and mouth, in mingled streams, 
 Just like the lion on the spout. 
 
 For well poor Bessy knows her mother 
 Must lose her tea, for water's lack, 
 
 That Sukey burns — and baby-brother 
 Must be dry-rubb'd with huck-a-back ! 
 
 <£#!&&€$•
 
 A FAIRY TALE. 
 
 7> 
 
 A FAIRY TALE. 
 N Hounslow heath — and close beside the road 
 
 As western travellers may oft have seen, — 
 A little house some years ago there stood, 
 
 A miniken abode ; 
 And built like Mr Birkbeck's all of wood : 
 The walls of white, the window shutters green, — 
 Four wheels it hath at North, South, East, and West, 
 
 (Though now at rest) 
 On which it used to wander to and fro, 
 Because its master ne'er maintain'd a rider, 
 
 Like those who trade in Paternoster Row ; 
 But made his business travel for itself, 
 
 Till he had made his pelf, 
 And then retired — if one may call it so, 
 
 Of a roadsider. 
 
 Perchance, the very race and constant riot 
 Of stages, long and short, which thereby ran, 
 Made him more relish the repose and quiet 
 Of his now sedentary caravan \
 
 72 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 Perchance, he loved the ground because 'twas common 
 And so he might impale a strip of soil 
 That furnish' d, by his toil, 
 Some dusty greens, for him and his old woman ; — 
 And five tall hollyhocks, in dingy flower, 
 Howbeit, the thoroughfare did no ways spoil 
 His peace, unless, in some unlucky hour, 
 A stray horse came, and gobbled up his bow'r. 
 
 But tired of always looking at the coaches, 
 
 The same to come, — when they had seen them one day ! 
 
 And, used to brisker life, both man and wife 
 Began to suffer N U E's approaches, 
 And feel retirement like a long wet Sunday, — 
 .So, having had some quarters of school breeding, 
 They turn'd themselves like other folks, to reading ; 
 But setting out where others nigh have done, 
 And being ripen'd in the seventh stage, 
 
 The childhood of old age, 
 Began, as other children have begun, — 
 Not with the pastorals of Mr Pope, 
 
 Or Bard of Hope, 
 Or Paley ethical, or learned Porson, — 
 But spelt, on Sabbaths, in St Mark, or John, 
 And then relax'd themselves with Whittington, 
 
 Or Valentine and Orson — 
 But chiefly fairy tales they loved to con,
 
 A FAIRY TALE. 73 
 
 And being easily melted in their dotage, 
 
 Slobber'd, — and kept 
 
 Reading, — and wept 
 Over the white Cat, in their wooden cottage. 
 
 Thus reading on — the longer 
 They read, of course, their childish faith grew stronger 
 In Gnomes, and Hags, and Elves, and Giants grim, — 
 If talking Trees and Birds reveal'd to him, 
 She saw the flight of Fairyland's fly- waggons, 
 
 And magic fishes swim 
 In puddle ponds, and took old crows for dragons. — 
 Both were quite drunk from the enchanted flagons ; 
 When as it fell upon a summer's day, 
 
 As the old man sat a feeding 
 On the old babe-reading, 
 Beside his open street- and-parlour door, 
 
 A hideous roar 
 Proclaim'd a drove of beasts was coming by the way,, 
 
 Long-horned, and short, of many a different breed, 
 Tall, tawny brutes, from famous Lincoln-levels 
 
 Or Durham feed ; 
 With some of those, unquiet black dwarf devils 
 
 From nether side of Tweed, 
 
 Or Firth of Forth ; 
 Looking half wild with joy to leave the North, — 
 With dusty hides, all mobbing on together, — 
 When, — whether from a fly's malicious comment
 
 74 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 Upon his tender flank, from which he shrank ; 
 
 Or whether 
 Only in some enthusiastic moment, — 
 However, one brown monster, in a frisk, 
 Giving his tail a perpendicular whisk, 
 Kick'd out a passage through the beastly rabble ; 
 And after a pas seul, — or, if you will, a 
 Horn-pipe before the Basket-maker's villa, 
 
 Leapt o'er the tiny pale, — 
 Back'd his beef -steaks against the wooden gable, 
 And thrust his brawny bell-rope of a tail 
 
 Right o'er the page, 
 
 Wherein the sage 
 Just then was spelling some romantic fable. 
 
 The old man, half a scholar, half a dunce, 
 
 Could not peruse, — who could 1 — two tales at once ; 
 
 And being huff 'd 
 At what he knew was none of Riquet's Tuft ; 
 
 Bang'd-to the door, 
 But most unluckily enclosed a morsel 
 Of the intruding tail, and all the tassel : — 
 
 The monster gave a roar, 
 And bolting off with speed increased by pain, 
 The little house became a coach once more, 
 And, like Maclieath, "took to the road" again ! 
 
 Just then, by fortune's whimsical decree, 
 The ancient woman stooping with her crupper
 
 A FAIRY TALE. 75 
 
 Towards sweet home, or where sweet home should be, 
 Was getting up some household herbs for supper ; 
 Thoughtful of Cinderella, in the tale, 
 And quaintly wondering if magic shifts 
 Could o'er a common pumpkin so prevail, 
 To turn it to a coach ; — what pretty gifts 
 Might come of cabbages, and curly kale ; 
 Meanwhile she never heard her old man's wail, 
 Nor turn'd, till home had turn'd a corner, quite 
 Gone out of sight ! 
 
 At last, conceive her, rising from the ground, 
 Weary of sitting on her russet clothing 
 
 And looking round 
 
 Where rest was to be found, 
 There was no house— no villa there — no nothing ! 
 No house ! 
 
 The change was quite amazing ; 
 It made her senses stagger for a minute, 
 The riddle's explication seem'd to harden ; 
 But soon her superannuated nous 
 Explain'd the horrid mystery ;— and raising 
 Her hand to heaven, with the cabbage in it, 
 
 On which she meant to sup, — 
 " Well ! this is Fairy Work ! I '11 bet a farden, 
 Little Prince Silverwings has ketch'd me up, 
 And set me down in some one else's garden I "
 
 7 6 
 
 WHIMS AND ODDITIES 
 
 The Spoiled Child. 
 
 THE SPOILED CHILD. 
 
 j Y Aunt Shakerly was of an enormous bulk. I have not 
 done justice to her hugeness in my sketch, for my 
 timid pencil declined to hazard a sweep at her real dimen- 
 sions. — There is. a vastness in the outline, of even moderate 
 proportions, till the mass is rounded-off by shadows, that 
 makes the hand hesitate, and apt to stint the figure of its 
 proper breadth : how, then, should I have ventured to trace,
 
 THE SPOILED CHILD. 77 
 
 like mapping in a Continent, the surpassing boundaries of 
 my Aunt Shakerly ! — 
 
 What a visage was hers ! — the cheeks, a pair of hemi- 
 spheres : — her neck literally swallowed up by a supplementary 
 chin. Her arm, cased in a tight sleeve, was as the bolster, — ■ 
 her body like the feather bed of Ware. The waist, which, in 
 other trunks, is an isthmus, was in hers only the middle zone 
 of a continuous tract of flesh : — her ankles overlapped her shoes. 
 
 With such a figure, it may be supposed that her habits 
 were sedentary. — When she did walk, the Tower Quay, for the 
 sake of the fresh river-breeze, was her favourite resort. But 
 never, in all her waterside promenades, was she hailed by the 
 uplifted finger of the Waterman. With looks purposely 
 averted he declined, tacitly, such a Fairlopian Fair. — The 
 Hackney-coach driver, whilst she halted over against him, 
 mustering up all her scanty puffings for an exclamation, 
 drove off to the nether pavement, and pleaded a prior call. 
 The chairman, in answer to her signals— had just broken his 
 poles. — Thus, her goings were crampt within a narrow circle : 
 many thoroughfares, besides, being strange to her and inac- 
 cessible, such as Thames Street, through the narrow pave- 
 ments ; — others, like the Hill of Holborn, — from their 
 impracticable steepness. How she was finally to master 
 a more serious ascension, (the sensible incumbrance of the 
 flesh clinging to her even in her spiritual aspirations,) was a 
 matter of her serious despondency — a picture of Jacob's 
 Ladder, by Sir F. Bourgeois, confirming her, that the celestial 
 staircase was without a landing.
 
 78 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 For a person of her elephantine proportions, my Aunt was 
 of a kindly nature — for I confess a prejudice against such 
 Giantesses. She was cheerful, and eminently charitable to 
 the poor, — although she did not condescend to a personal 
 visitation of their very limited abodes. If she had a fault, 
 it was in her conduct towards children — not spoiling them by 
 often repeated indulgences, and untimely severities, the com- 
 mon practice of bad mothers ; — it was by a shorter course 
 that the latent and hereditary virtues of the infant Shakerly 
 were blasted in the bud. — 
 
 Oh, my tender cousin * * ! (for thou wert yet unbaptized ) 
 Oh ! would thou had'st been, — my little babe-cousin, — of a 
 savager mother born ! — For then, having thee comfortably 
 swaddled, upon a backboard, with a hole in it, she would 
 have hung thee up, out of harm's way, above the mantel- 
 shelf, or behind the kitchen door — whereas, thy parent was 
 no savage, and so, having her hands full of other matters, 
 she laid thee down, helpless, upon the parlour chair ! — 
 
 In the meantime, the " Herald " came — Next to an easy 
 seat, my Aunt dearly loved a police newspaper ; — when she 
 had once plunged into its columns, the most vital question 
 obtained from her only a random answer ; — the world and 
 the roasting-jack stood equally still. — So, without a second 
 thought, she dropped herself on the nursing chair. One 
 little smothered cry — my cousin's last breath found its way 
 into the upper air, — but the still small voice of the reporter 
 engrossed the maternal ear. 
 
 My Aunt never skimmed a newspaper, according to some
 
 THE SPOILED CHILD. 79 
 
 people's practice. She was as solid a reader as a sitter, and 
 did not get up, therefore, till she had gone through the 
 " Herald " from end to end. When she did rise, — which 
 was suddenly, — the earth quaked — the windows rattled — the 
 ewers splashed over — the crockery fell from the shelf — and 
 the cat and rats ran out together, as they are said to do from 
 a falling house. 
 
 " Heyday ! " said my uncle, above Stairs, as he staggered 
 from the concussion — and, with the usual curiosity, he referred 
 to his pocket-book for the Royal Birthday. But the almanack 
 not accounting for the explosion, he ran down the stairs, at 
 the heels of the housemaid, and there lay my Aunt, stretched 
 on the parlour-floor, in a fit. At the very first glimpse, he 
 explained the matter to his own satisfaction, in three words — 
 
 " Ah — the apoplexy ! " 
 
 Now the housemaid had done her part to secure him 
 
 against this error, by holding up the dead child ; but as she 
 
 turned the body edge-ways, he did not perceive it. When he 
 
 did see it— but I must draw a curtain over the parental 
 
 agony— 
 
 a- * * * * 
 
 About an hour after the catastrophe, an inquisitive she- 
 neighbour called in, and asked if we should not have the 
 Coroner to sit on the body : — -but my uncle replied, " There 
 was no need." — " But in cases, Mr Shakerly, where the death 
 is not natural." — " My dear Madam," interrupted my uncle, 
 " it was a natural death enough."
 
 So WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 THE FALL OF THE DEER. 
 
 [From an old MS] 
 
 OW the loud Crye is up, and harke ! 
 The barkye Trees give back the Bark ; 
 The House Wife heares the merrie rout, 
 And runnes, — and lets the beere run out, 
 Leaving her Babes to weepe, — for why 1 
 She likes to heare the Deer Dogges crye, 
 And see the wild Stag how he stretches 
 The naturall Buck-skin of his Breeches, 
 Running like one of Human kind 
 Dogged by fleet Bailiffes close behind — ■ 
 As if he had not payde his Bill 
 For Ven' son, or was owing still 
 For his two Homes, and soe did get 
 Over his Head and Ears in Debt ; — 
 Wherefore he strives to paye his Ways 
 With his long Legges the while he raaye : — 
 But he is chased, like Silver Dish, 
 As well as anye Hart may wish 
 Except that one whose Heart doth beat 
 So faste it hasteneth his Feet ; —
 
 THE FALL OF THE DEER. 81 
 
 And runninge soe he holdeth Death 
 Four Feet from him, — till his Breath 
 Faileth, and slacking Pace at last, 
 From runninge slow he standeth faste, 
 With hornie Bayonettes at baye 
 To baying Dogges around, and they 
 Pushing him sore, he pusheth sore, 
 And goreth them that seek his Gore,—.- 
 Whatever Dogge his Home doth rive 
 Is dead — as sure as he 's alive ! 
 Soe that courageous Hart doth fight 
 With Fate, and calleth up his might, 
 And standeth stout that he maye fall 
 Bravelye, and be avenged of all, 
 Nor like a Craven yeeld his Breath 
 Under the Jawes of Dogges and Death ! 
 
 <T£3ZZ££2->
 
 82 
 
 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 <^- 
 
 Master Graham.
 
 DECEMBER AND MA Y 83 
 
 DECEMBER AND MAY 
 
 " Crabbed Age and Youth cannot live together." 
 
 — Shakspeaios. 
 
 AID Nestor, to his pretty wife, quite sorrowful one 
 • day, 
 " Why, dearest, will you sued in pearls those lovely eyes 
 
 away? 
 You ought to be more fortified : " " Ah, brute, be quiet, do, 
 I know I 'm not so fortyfied, nor fiftyfied, as you ! 
 
 " Oh, men are vile deceivers all, as I have ever heard, 
 
 You 'd die for me you swore, and I — I took you at your 
 
 word. 
 I was a tradesman's widow then — a pretty change I 've made ; 
 To live and die the wife of one, a widower by trade ! "
 
 84 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 " Come, come, my dear, these flighty airs declare, in sober 
 
 truth, 
 You want as much in age, indeed, as I can want in youth ; 
 Besides, you said you liked old men, though now at me you 
 
 huff." 
 "Why, yes," she said, "and so I do — but you 're not old 
 
 enough ! " 
 
 " Come, come, my dear, let 's make it up, and have a quiet 
 
 hive ; 
 I '11 be the best of men, — I mean, — I '11 be the best alive ! 
 Your grieving so will kill me, for it cuts me to the core." — 
 " I thank ye, sir, for telling me — for now I '11 grieve the 
 
 more ! " 
 
 G£*<3X®€£>
 
 A WINTER NOSE C A Y. 
 
 85 
 
 A Winter Nosegay. 
 
 A WINTER NOSEGAY. 
 
 H, wither'd winter Blossoms, 
 
 Dowager-flowers, — the December vanity. 
 In antiquated visages and bosoms. — 
 What are ye planned for, 
 Unless to stand for 
 Emblems, and peevish morals of humanity 1
 
 86 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 There is my Quaker Aunt, 
 A. Paper-Flower, — with a formal border 
 
 No breeze could e'er disorder, 
 Pouting at that old beau— the Winter Cherry, 
 
 A pucker'd berry ; 
 And Box, like a tough-liv'd annuitant, — - 
 
 Verdant alway — 
 From quarter-day even to quarter-day ; 
 And poor old Honesty, as thin as want, 
 
 Well named — God- wot ; 
 Under the baptism of the water-pot, 
 The very apparition of a plant ; 
 
 And why, 
 Dost hold thy head so high, 
 
 Old Winter-Daisy ; — 
 Because thy virtue never was infirm, 
 
 Howe'er thy stalk be crazy ] 
 That never wanton fly, or blighting worm, 
 Made holes in thy most perfect indentation ? 
 
 'Tis likely that sour leaf, 
 
 To garden thief, 
 Forcepp'd or wing'd, was never a temptation ; — 
 Well, — still uphold thy wintry-reputation ; 
 Still shalt thou frown upon all lovers' trial : 
 And when, like Grecian maids, young maids of ours 
 
 Converse with flow'rs, 
 Then thou shalt be the token of denial.
 
 A WINTER NOSEGA Y. 87 
 
 Away ! dull weeds, 
 Born without beneficial use or needs ! 
 Fit only to deck out cold winding sheets ; 
 And then not for the milkmaid's funeral-bloom, 
 
 Or fair Fidele's tomb 
 
 To tantalize, — vile cheats ! 
 Some prodigal bee, with hope of after-sweets, 
 
 Frigid, and rigid, 
 
 As if ye never knew 
 
 One drop of dew, 
 Or the warm sun resplendent ; 
 Indifferent of culture and of care, 
 Giving no sweets back to the fostering air, 
 Churlishly independent — 
 
 I hate ye, of all breeds ; 
 Yea, all that live so selfishly — to self, 
 And not by interchange of kindly deeds — 
 
 Hence ! — from my shelf! 
 
 <>^§i^»§§§^
 
 88 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 EQUESTRIAN COURTSHIP. 
 
 T was a young maiden went forth to ride, 
 And there was a wooer to pace by her side ; 
 
 His horse was so little, and hers so high, 
 He thought his Angel was up in the sky. 
 
 His love was great, though his wit was small ; 
 He bade her ride easy — and that was all. 
 The very horses began to neigh, — • 
 Because their betters had nought to say. 
 
 They rode by elm, and they rode by oak, 
 
 They rode by a church-yard, and then he spoke :- 
 
 " My pretty maiden, if you '11 agree 
 
 You shall always amblu through life with me." 
 
 The damsel answer'd him never a word, 
 
 But kick'd the grey mare, and away she spurr'd. 
 
 The wooer still follow'd behind the jade, 
 
 And enjoy'd — like a wooer — the dust she made.
 
 EQUESTRIAN COURTSHIP. 89 
 
 They rode through moss, and they rode through more, — 
 
 The gallant behind and the lass before :-— 
 
 At last they came to a miry place, 
 
 And there the sad wooer gave up the chase. 
 
 Quoth he, " If my nag was better to ride, 
 
 I 'd follow her over the world so wide. 
 
 Oh, it is not my love that begins to fail, 
 
 But I 've lost the last glimpse of the grey mare's tail ! " 
 
 (p^iee^St^ii
 
 9o 
 
 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 She is far from the land." 
 
 "SHE IS FAR FROM THE LAND." 
 
 T has been my fortune or misfortune, sometimes to 
 witness the distresses of females upon shipboard ; — 
 that is, in such fresh-victual passages as to Ramsgate — or to 
 Leith. How they can contemplate or execute those longer 
 voyages, beyond Good Hope's Cape, — even with the implied
 
 "SHE IS FAR FROM THE LAND." 91 
 
 inducements of matrimony, — is one of my standard wonders. 
 There is a natural shrinking— a cat-like antipathy, — to water, 
 in the lady-constitution, — (as the false Argonaut well remem- 
 bered when he shook off Ariadne) — that seems to forbid such 
 sea-adventures. Betwixt a younger daughter, in Hampshire 
 for example, — and a Judge's son of Calcutta, there is, ap- 
 parently, a great gulf fixed : — 
 
 How have I felt, and shuddered, for a timid, shrinking, 
 anxious female, full of tremblings as an aspen, — about to set 
 her first foot upon the stage — but it can be nothing to a 
 maiden's debut on the deck of an East Indiaman. 
 
 Handkerchiefs waving — not in welcome, but in farewell ; 
 crowded boxes — not filled with living Beauty and Fashion — 
 but departing luggage. Not the mere noisy Gods of the gallery 
 to encounter, — but those, more boisterous, of the wind and 
 wave. And then, all before her, — the great salt-water Pit ! — 
 
 As I write this, the figure of Miss Oliver rises up before 
 me, — just as she looked on her first introduction, by the 
 Neptune, to the Ocean. It was her first voyage, — and she 
 made sure would be her last. Her storms commenced at 
 Gravesend, — her sea began much higher up. She had qualms 
 at Blackwall. At the Nore, she came to the mountain-billows 
 of her imagination ; for however the ocean may disappoint 
 the expectation, from the land, — on shipboard, to the unin- 
 itiated, it hath all its terrors. The sailor's capful of wind 
 was to her a North-wester. Every splash of a wave shocked 
 her, as if each brought its torpedo. The loose cordage did 
 not tremble and thrill more to the wind than her nerves. At
 
 9 2 
 
 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 every tack of the vessel, — on all-fours, for she would not 
 trust to her own feet, and the out-stretched hand of courtesy 
 — she scrambled up to the higher side. Her back ached with 
 straining against the bulwark, to preserve her own and the 
 ship's perpendicular : — her eyes glanced right, left, above, 
 beneath, before, behind — with all the alacrity of alarm. She 
 had not organs enough of sight, or hearing, to keep watch 
 against all her imagined perils : her ignorance of nautical 
 tnatters, in the meantime, causing her to mistake the real 
 dea-dangers for subjects of self-congratulation. It delighted 
 her to understand that there was barely three fathoms of 
 water between the vessel and the ground ; — her notion had 
 been that the whole sea was bottomless. When the ship 
 struck upon a sand, and was left there high and dry by the 
 tide, her pleasure was, of course, complete. " We could walk 
 about," she said, " and pick up shells." I believe, she would 
 have been as well contented if our Neptune had been pedes- 
 talled upon a rock, — deep water and sea-room were the only 
 subjects of her dread. When the vessel, therefore, got afloat 
 again, the old terrors of the landswoman returned upon her 
 with the former force. All possible marine difficulties and 
 disasters were huddled, like an auction medley, in one lot, 
 into her apprehension : — 
 
 Cables entangling her, 
 Shipspars for mangling her, 
 Ropes, sure of strangling her ; 
 Blocks over-dangling her ;
 
 "SHE IS FAR FROM THE LAND." 93 
 
 Tiller to batter her, 
 Topmast to shatter her, 
 Tobacco to spatter her ; 
 Boreas blustering, 
 Boatswain cmite flustering, 
 Thunder-clouds mustering 
 To blast her with sulphur — 
 If the deep don't engulph her ; 
 Sometimes fear's scrutiny- 
 Pries out a mutiny, 
 Sniffs conflagration, 
 Or hints at starvation : — 
 All the sea-dangers, 
 Buccaneers, rangers, 
 Pirates and Sallee-men, 
 Algerine galleymen, 
 Tornadoes and typhons, 
 And horrible syphons, 
 And submarine travels 
 Through roaring sea-navels 
 Everything wrong enough, 
 Long-boat not long enough, 
 Vessel not strong enough ; 
 Pitch marring frippery, 
 The deck very slippery, 
 And the cabin — built sloping, 
 The Captain a-toping,
 
 94 WHIMS AND ODDITIES: 
 
 And the Mate a blasphemer, 
 That names his Redeemer, — 
 With inward uneasiness ; 
 The cook known, by greasiness, 
 The victuals beslubber'd, 
 Her bed — in a cupboard ; 
 Things of strange christening, 
 Snatch'd in her listening, 
 Blue lights and red lights 
 And mention of dead-lights, 
 And shrouds made a theme of, 
 Things horrid to dream of, — 
 And buoys in the water 
 To fear all exhort her ; 
 Her friend no Leandcr, 
 Herself no sea-gander, 
 And ne'er a cork jacket 
 On board of the packet ; 
 The breeze still a stiffening, 
 The trumpet cpiite deafening ; 
 Thoughts of repentance, 
 And doomsday and sentence ; 
 Everything sinister, 
 Not a church minister, — 
 Pilot a blunderer, 
 Coral reefs under her, 
 Ready to sunder her ;
 
 "SHE IS FAR FROM THE LAND-" 
 
 95 
 
 Trunks tipsy-topsy, 
 The ship in a dropsy ; 
 Waves oversurging her, 
 Syrens a-dirgeing her ; 
 Sharks all expecting her 
 Sword-fish dissecting her, 
 Crabs with their hand-vices 
 Punishing land vices ; 
 Sea-dogs and unicorns, 
 Things with no puny horns, 
 Mermen carnivorous — 
 " Good Lord deliver us ! " 
 
 " Come o'er the sea." 
 
 The rest of the voyage was occupied, — excepting one bright 
 interval, — with the sea-malady and sea-horrors. We were off 
 Flamborough Head. A heavy swell, the consequence of some 
 recent storm to the eastward, was rolling right before the 
 wind upon the land : — and, once under the shadow of the
 
 96 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 bluff promontory, we should lose all the advantage of a saving 
 westerly breeze. Even the seamen looked anxious : but the 
 passengers (save one) were in despair. They were already 
 bones of contention, in their own misgivings, to the myriads 
 of cormorants and waterfowl inhabiting that stupendous cliff. 
 Miss Oliver alone was sanguine : — she was all nods, and becks, 
 and wreathed smiles ; — her cheeriness increased in proportion 
 with our dreariness. Even the dismal pitching of the vessel 
 could not disturb her unseasonable levity ; — it was like a 
 lightening before death — but, at length, the mystery was ex- 
 plained. She had springs of comfort that we knew not of. 
 Not brandy, — for that we shared in common ; nor supplica- 
 tions, — for those we had all applied to ; but her ears, being 
 jealously vigilant of whatever passed between the mariners, 
 she had overheard from the captain — and it had all the sound 
 to her of a comfortable promise — that " if the wind held, we 
 should certainly go on shore." 
 
 <&t1&3f&-
 
 FANCIES ON A TEA-CUP. 97 
 
 FANCIES ON A TEA-CUP. 
 
 LOVE to pore upon old china, and to speculate, from 
 the images, on Cathay. I can fancy that the Chinese 
 manners betray themselves, like the drunkard's, in their cups. 
 
 How quaintly pranked and patterned is their vessel ' — ex- 
 quisitely outlandish, yet not barbarian. How daintily trans- 
 parent ! It should be no vulgar earth that produces that 
 superlative ware, nor does Jt so seem in the enamelled land- 
 scape. 
 
 There, are beautiful birds ; there, rich flowers and gorgeous 
 butterflies, — and a delicate clime, if we may credit the porce- 
 lain. There be also horrible monsters, dragons, with us 
 obsolete, and reckoned fabulous; the main breed, doubtless, 
 having followed Fohi (our Noah) in his wanderings thither 
 from the Mount Ararat. But how does that impeach the 
 loveliness of Cathay 1 There are such creatures even in Fairy- 
 land, 
 
 I long often to loiter in those romantic Paradises — studded 
 with pretty temples — holiday pleasure grounds — the true Tea- 
 Gardens, I like those meandering waters, and the abounding 
 little islands. 
 
 And here is a Chinese nursemaid, Ho-Fi, chiding a fretful
 
 98 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 little Pekin child. The urchin hath just such another toy, at 
 the end of a string, as might be purchased at our own Mr 
 Dunnett's. It argues an advanced state of civilisation, where 
 the children have many playthings ; and the Chinese infants, 
 witness their flying-fishes and whirligigs, sold by the stray 
 natives about our streets, are far gone in such juvenile luxuries. 
 
 But here is a better token. — The Chinese are a polite people; 
 for they do not make household, much less husbandry, drudges 
 of their wives. You may read the women's fortune in their 
 tea-cups. In nine cases out of ten, the female is busy only 
 in the lady-like toils of the toilette. Lo ! here, how sedu- 
 lously the blooming Hy-son is pencilling the mortal arches, 
 and curving the cross-bows of her eyebrows. A musical 
 instrument, her secondary engagement, is at her almost in- 
 visible feet. Are such little extremities likely to be tasked 
 with laborious offices 1 Marry, in kicking they must be ludi- 
 crously impotent ; but then she hath a formidable growth of 
 nails. 
 
 By her side, the obsequious Hum is pouring his soft flat- 
 teries into her ear. When she walketh abroad, (here it is on 
 another sample,) he shadeth her at two miles off with his 
 umbrella. It is like an allegory of love triumphing over 
 space. The lady is walking upon one of those frequent petty 
 islets, on a plain, as if of porcelain, without any herbage, only 
 a solitary flower springs up, seemingly by enchantment, at 
 her fairy-like foot. The watery space between the lovers is 
 aptly left as a blank, excepting her adorable shadow, which 
 is tending towards her slave.
 
 FANCIES ON A TEA-CUP. 
 
 99 
 
 How reverentially is yon urchin presenting his flowers to 
 the Greybeard ! So honourably is age considered in China ! 
 There would be some sense there in birthday celebrations. 
 
 Here, in another compartment, is a solitary scholar, appar- 
 ently studying the elaborate didactics of Con-Fuse- Ye. 
 
 The Chinese have, verily, the advantage of us upon earthen- 
 ware. They trace themselves as lovers, contemplatists, philo- 
 sophers ; — whereas, to judge from our jugs and mugs, we are 
 nothing but sheepish piping shepherds and fox-hunters. 
 
 Pere la Chaise.
 
 ioo WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 THE STAG-EYED LADY. 
 
 A MOORISH TALE. 
 
 Scheherazade immediately began the following story. 
 
 LI BEN ALI (did you never read 
 
 His wond'rous acts that chronicles relate, — 
 How there was one in pity might exceed 
 
 The sack of Troy 1) Magnificent he sate 
 Upon the throne of greatness — great indeed 
 
 For those that he had under him were great — 
 The horse he rode on, shod with silver nails, 
 Was a Bashaw — Bashaws have horses' tails. 
 
 Ali was cruel — a most cruel one ! 
 
 "lis rumour'd he had strangled his own mother — 
 Howbeit such deeds of darkness he had done, 
 
 'Tis thought he would have slain his elder brother 
 And sister too— but happily that none 
 
 Did live within harm's length of one another, 
 Else he had sent the Sun in all its blaze 
 To endless night, and shorten'd the Moon's days.
 
 THE STAG-EYED LADY. 101 
 
 Despotic power, that mars a weak man's wit, 
 
 And makes a bad man — absolutely bad, 
 Made Ali wicked — to a fault : — 'tis fit 
 
 Monarchs should have some check-strings ; but he had 
 No curb upon his will — no, not a bit — 
 
 Wherefore he did not reign well — and full glad 
 His slaves had been to hang him — but they falter'd, 
 And let him live unhang'd — and still unalter'd, 
 
 Until he got a sage bush of a beard, 
 
 Wherein an Attic owl might roost — a trail 
 
 Of bristly hair — that, honour'd and unshear'd, 
 Grew downward like old women and cow's tail, 
 
 Being a sign of age — some grey appear' d, 
 
 Mingling with duskier brown its warnings pale ; 
 
 But yet not so poetic as when Time 
 
 Comes like Jack Frost, and whitens it in rime. 
 
 Ben Ali took the hint, and much did vex 
 
 His royal bosom that he had no son, 
 No living child of the more noble sex, 
 
 To stand in his Morocco shoes — not one 
 To make a negro-pollard — or tread necks 
 
 When he was gone — doom'd, when his days were done, 
 To leave the very city of his fame 
 Without an Ali to keep up his name. 
 
 G
 
 102 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 Therefore lie chose a lady for his love, 
 
 Singling from out the herd one stag-eyed dear ; 
 
 So call'd, because her lustrous eyes, above 
 All eyes, were dark, and timorous, and clear ; 
 
 Then, through his Muftis piously he strove, 
 
 And drumm'd with proxy-prayers Mohammed's ear, 
 
 Knowing a boy for certain must come of it, 
 
 Or else he was not praying to his Profit. 
 
 Beer will grow mothery, and ladies fair 
 
 Will grow like beer ; so did that stag-eyed dame 
 
 Ben Ali hoping for a son and heir, 
 
 Boy'd vip his hopes, and even chose a name 
 
 Of mighty hero that his child should bear ; 
 He made so certain ere his chicken came : 
 
 But oh ! all worldly wit is little worth, 
 
 Nor knoweth what to-morrow will bring forth 
 
 To-morrow came, and with to-morrow's sun 
 A little daughter to this world of sins, — 
 
 il/Yss-fortunes never come alone — so one 
 Brought on another, like a pair of twins ! 
 
 Twins ! female twins !— it was enough to stun 
 Their little wits and scare them from their skin* 
 
 To hear their father stamp, and curse and swear, 
 
 Pulling his beard because he had no heir.
 
 THE STAG-EYED LADY. 103 
 
 Then strove their stag-eyed mother to calm down 
 This his paternal rage, and thus addrest : 
 
 O ! Most Serene ! why dost thou stamp and frown, 
 And box the compass of the royal chest ] 
 
 Ah ! thou wilt mar that portly trunk, I own 
 I love to gaze on ! — Pr'ythee, thou hadst best 
 
 Pocket thy fists. Nay, love, if you so thin 
 
 Your beard, you '11 want a wig upon your chin ! 
 
 But not her words, nor e'en her tears, could slack 
 The quicklime of his rage, that hotter grew:. 
 
 He call'd his slaves to bring an ample sack 
 Wherein a woman might be poked — a few 
 
 Dark grimly men felt pity and look'd black 
 At this sad order \ but their slaveships knew 
 
 When any dared demur, his sword so bending 
 
 Cut off the "head and front of their offending." 
 
 For Ali had a sword, much like himself, 
 A crooked blade, guilty of human gore — 
 
 The trophies it had lopp'd from many an elf 
 Were stuck at his /W<f-quarters by the score- 
 
 Nor yet in peace he laid it on the shelf, 
 But jested with it, and his wit cut sore ; 
 
 So that (as they of Public Houses speak) 
 
 He often did his dozen butts a week.
 
 104 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 Therefore his slaves, with most obedient fear, 
 Came with the sack the lady to enclose ; 
 
 In vain from her stag-eyes " the big round tears 
 Coursed one another down her innocent nose ; " 
 
 In vain her tongue wept sorrow in their ears ; 
 Though there were some felt willing to oppose, 
 
 Yet when their heads came in their heads, that minute, 
 
 Though 'twas a piteous case, they put her in it. 
 
 And when the sack was tied, some two or three 
 Of these black undertakers slowly brought hei 
 
 To a kind of Moorish Serpentine ; for she 
 Was doom'd to have a winding sheet of water. 
 
 Then farewell, earth — farewell to the green tree — 
 Farewell, the sun — the moon — each little daughter ! 
 
 She 's shot from off the shoulders of a black, 
 
 Like a bag of Wall's-End from a coalman's back. 
 
 The waters oped, and the wide sack full-nll'd 
 All that the waters oped, as down it fell ; 
 
 Then closed the wave, and then the surface rilFd 
 A ring above her, like a water-knell ; 
 
 A moment more, and all its face was still'd, 
 And not a guilty heave was left to tell 
 
 That underneath its calm and blue transparence 
 
 A dame lay drown'd in her sack, like Clarence.
 
 THE STAG-EYED LADY. 105 
 
 But Heaven beheld, and awful witness bore, 
 The moon in black eclipse deceased that night, 
 
 Like Desdemona smother'd by the Moor, 
 The lady's natal star with pale affright 
 
 Fainted and fell — and what were stars before, 
 Turn'd comets as the tale was brought to light ; 
 
 And all look'd downward on the fatal wave, 
 
 And made their own reflections on her grave. 
 
 Next night, a head- — a little lady head, 
 
 Push'd through the waters a most glassy face, 
 
 With weedy tresses, thrown apart and spread, 
 Comb'd by live ivory, to show the space 
 
 Of a pale forehead, and two eyes that shed 
 A soft blue mist, breathing a bloomy grace 
 
 Over their sleepy lids — and so she rais'd 
 
 Her aqualine nose above the stream, and gazed. 
 
 She oped her lips — lips of a gentle blush, 
 
 So pale it seem'd near drown'd to a white, — 
 
 She oped her lips, and forth there sprang a gush 
 Of music bubbling through the surface light ; 
 
 The leaves are motionless, the breezes hush 
 To listen to the air — and through the night 
 
 There come these words of a most plaintive ditty, 
 
 Sobbing as would break all hearts with pity :
 
 Io6; WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 THE WATER PERI'S SONG. 
 
 Farewell, farewell, to my mother's own daughter, 
 
 The child that she wet-nursed is lapp'd in the wave ; 
 
 The MvMuln\xn. coming to fish in this water, 
 
 Adds a tear to the flood that weeps over her grave. 
 
 This sack is her coffin, this water 's her bier, 
 This greyish hath cloak is her funeral pall ; 
 
 And, stranger, stranger ! this song that you hear 
 Is her epitaph, elegy, dirges, and all ! 
 
 Farewell, farewell, to the child of Al Hassan, 
 
 My mother's own daughter — the last of her race — 
 
 She 's a corpse, the poor body ! and lies in this basin. 
 And sleeps in the water that washes her face. 
 
 «^re4£j*i9
 
 WALTOiV REDIVIVUS. 
 
 107 
 
 " My banks they are furnished." 
 
 WALTON REDIVIVUS. 
 
 A NEW RIVER ECLOGUE. 
 
 My old New River hath presented no extraordinary novelties lately 
 But there Hope sits, day after day, speculating on traditionary 
 gudgeons. I think she hath taken the Fisheries. I now know 
 the reasons why our forefathers were denominated East and West 
 Angles. Yet is there no lack of spawn, for I wash my hands in 
 fishets that come through the pump, every morning, thick as 
 motelings — little things that perish untimely, and never taste the 
 brook." 
 
 — From a Letter of C. Lamb.
 
 ioS WHIMS AXD ODDITIES. 
 
 [Piscator is fishing,— near the Sir Hugh Middleton's Head, without 
 either basket or cann. Viator cometh up to him, with an angling- 
 rod and a bottle.] 
 
 Via. 
 
 
 'OOD morrow, Master Piscator. Is there any sport 
 
 ad 
 
 afloat 1 
 
 Pis. I have not been here time enough to answer for it. 
 It is barely two hours agone since I put in. 
 
 Via. The fishes are shyer in this stream than in any water 
 that I know. 
 
 Pis. I have fished here a whole Whitsuntide through with 
 out a nibble. But then the weather was not so excellent as 
 to-day. This nice shower will set the gudgeons all agape. 
 Via. I am impatient to begin. 
 Pis. Do you fish with gut ? 
 Via, No — I bait with gentles. 
 
 Pis. It is a good taking bait : though my question referred 
 to the nature of your line. Let me see your tackle 1 ? Why 
 this is no line, but a ship's cable. It is six-twist. There is 
 nothing in this water but you may pull out with a single 
 hair. 
 
 Via. What, are there no dace, nor perch 1 — 
 Pis. I doubt not but there have been such fish here in 
 former ages. But now-a-days there is nothing of that size. 
 They are gone extinct, like the mammoths. 
 
 Via. There was always such a fishing at 'em. Where 
 there was one Angler in former times, there is now a hun- 
 dred.
 
 WALTON REDIVIVUS. 109 
 
 Pis, A murrain on 'em ! — A New-River fish now-a-days 
 cannot take his common swimming exercise without hitching 
 on a hook. 
 
 Via. It is the natural course of things, for man's populous- 
 ness to terminate other breeds. As the proverb says, " The 
 more Scotchmen the fewer herrings." It is curious to con- 
 sider the family of whales growing thinner according to the 
 propagation of parish lamps. 
 
 Pis. Aye, and, withal, how the race of man, who is a 
 terrestrial animal, should have been in the greatest jeopardy 
 of extinction by the element of water ; whereas the whales, 
 living in the ocean, are most liable to be burnt out. 
 
 Via. It is a pleasant speculation. But how is this ?— I 
 thought to have brought my gentles comfortably in an old 
 snuff-box, and they are all stark dead ! 
 
 Pis. The odour hath killed them. There is nothing more 
 mortal than tobacco, to all kinds of vermin. Wherefore, a 
 : ew box will be indispensable, though, for my own practice, 
 I prefer my waistcoat pockets for their carriage. Pray 
 mark this : — and in • the meantime I will lend you some 
 worms. 
 
 Via. I am much beholden : and when you come to Long 
 Acre, I will faithfully repay you. But, look you, my tackle 
 is still amiss. My float will not swim. 
 
 Pis. It is no miracle — for here is at least a good ounce of 
 swan-shots upon your line. It is over-charged with lead. 
 
 Via. I confess, I am only used to killing sparrows, and 
 such small fowls, out of the back-casement. But my ignor-
 
 no WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 ance shall make me the more thankful for your help and 
 instruction. 
 
 Pis. There. The fault is amended. And now, observe, — 
 you must watch your cork very narrowly, without even an 
 eye-wink another way ; — for, otherwise, you may overlook the 
 only nibble throughout the day. 
 
 Via. I have a bite already ! — my float is going up and down 
 like a ship at sea. 
 
 Pis. No. It is only that house-maid dipping in her bucket, 
 which causes the agitation you perceive. 'Tis a shame so to 
 interrupt the honest Angler's diversion. It would be but a 
 judgment of God, now, if the jade should fall in ! 
 
 Via. But I would have her only drowned for some brief 
 twenty minutes or so — and then restored again by the Surgeons. 
 And yet I have doubts of the lawfulness of that dragging of 
 souls back again, that have taken their formal leaves. In 
 my conscience, it seems like flying against the laws of pre- 
 destination. 
 
 Pis. It is a doubtful point ; — for, on the other hand, I have 
 heard of some that were revived into life by the Doctors, and 
 came afterwards to be hanged. 
 
 Via. Marry ! 'tis pity such knaves' lungs were ever puff'd 
 up again ! It was good tobacco-smoke ill-w r astcd ! Oh ! how 
 pleasant, now, is this angling, which furnishes us with matter 
 for such agreeable discourse ! Surely, it is well called a con- 
 templative recreation, for I never had half so many thoughts 
 in my head before ! 
 
 Pis. T am glad you relish it so well.
 
 WAL TON REDIVIVUS. 1 1 1 
 
 Via. I will take a summer lodging hereabouts, to be near 
 the stream. How pleasant is this solitude ! There are but 
 fourteen a-fishing here ; — and of those but few men. 
 
 Pis. And we shall be still more lonely on the other side of 
 the City Road. — Come, let 's across. Nay, we '11 put in our 
 lines lower down. There was a butcher's wife dragged for, at 
 this bridge, in the last week. 
 
 Via. Have you, indeed, any qualms of that kind '? 
 
 Pis. No — but, hereabouts, 'tis likely the gudgeons will be 
 gorged. Now, we are far enough. Yonder is the row of 
 Colebroke. What a balmy wholesome gust is blowing over to 
 us from the cow-lair. 
 
 Via. For my part, I smell nothing but dead kittens — for 
 here lies a whole brood in soak. Would you believe it, — to 
 my phantasy, the nine days' blindness of these creatures 
 smacks somewhat of a type of the human pre-existence. 
 Methinks I have had myself such a mysterious being before 
 I beheld the light. My dreams hint at it. A sort of world 
 before eye-sight. 
 
 Pis. I have some dim sympathy with your meaning. At 
 the Creation, there was such a kind of blind-man's-buff work. 
 The atoms jostled together, before there was a revealing sun. 
 But are we not fishing too deep 1 
 
 . Via. I am afeard on 't ! Would we had a plummet ! We 
 shall catch weeds. 
 
 Pis. It would be well to fish thus at the bottom, if we were 
 fishing for flounders in the sea. But there, you must have 
 forty fathom, or so, of stout line ; and then, with your fish at
 
 112 
 
 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 the end, it will be the boy's old pastime carried into another 
 element. I assure you, 'tis like swimming a kite ! — 
 
 Via. It should be pretty sport— but hush ! My cork has 
 just made a bob. It is diving under the water ! — Holla ! — I 
 lave catched a fish ! 
 
 Piscator. 
 
 Pis. Is it a great one ] 
 
 Via. Purely, a huge one ! Shall I put it into die bottle t 
 Pis. It will be well, — and let there be a good * measure of 
 "Kater, too, lest he scorch against the glass.
 
 WAL TON REDIVIVUS. 1 13 
 
 Via. How slippery and shining it is ! — Ah ! he is gone ! 
 
 Pis Yon are not nsed to the handling of a New-River 
 fish • — and, indeed, very few be. But hath he altogether 
 escaped 1 
 
 Via. No ; 1 have his chin here, which I was obliged to 
 fear off, to get away my hook. 
 
 Pis. Well, let him go ; — it would be labour wasted to seek 
 ior him amongst this rank herbage. Tis the commonest of 
 Anglers crosses. 
 
 Via. I am comforted to consider he did not fall into the 
 water again, as he was without a mouth, and might have 
 pined tor years. Do you think there is any cruelty in our 
 Art? 
 
 Pis. As for other methods of taking fish, I cannot say : 
 but I think none in the hooking of them. — For, to look at 
 the gills of a fish, with those manifold red leaves, like a house- 
 wife's needle-book, they are admirably adapted to our pur- 
 pose ; and manifestly intended by Nature to stick our steel in. 
 
 Via. I am glad to have the question so comfortably re- 
 solved, — for, in truth, I have had some misgivings. Now, 
 look how dark the water grows ! There is another shower 
 towards. 
 
 Pis. Let it come down, and welcome. I have only my 
 working-day clothes on. Sunday coats spoil holidays. Let 
 everything hang loose, and time too will sit easy. 
 
 Via. I like your philosophy. In this world, we are the 
 fools of restraint. We starch our ruffs till they cut us under 
 the ear.
 
 n 4 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 Pis. How pleasant it would be to discuss these sentiments 
 over a tankard of ale ! I have a simple bashfulness against 
 going into a public tavern, but I think we could dodge into 
 the Castle, without being much seen. 
 
 Via. And I have a sort of shuddering about me, that is 
 willing to go more frankly in. Let us put up, then. By my 
 halidom ! here is a little dead fish hanging at my hook : — 
 and yet I never felt him bite. 
 
 Pis. 'Tis only a little week-old gudgeon, and he had not 
 strength enough to stir the cork. However, we may say 
 boldly that Ave have caught a fish. 
 
 Via. Nay, I have another here in my bottle. He was 
 sleeping on his back at the top of the water, and I got him 
 out nimbly with the hollow of my hand. 
 
 Pis. We have caught a brace then ; — besides the great one 
 that was lost amongst the grass. I am glad on't ; for we can 
 bestow them upon some poor hungiy person in our way home. 
 It is passable good sport for the place. 
 
 Via. I am satisfied it must be called so. But the next 
 time I come hither, I shall bring a reel with me, and a ready- 
 made minnow, for I am certain there must be some marvel- 
 lous huge pikes here ; they always make a scarcity of other 
 fish. However, I have been bravely entertained, and, at the 
 first holiday, I will come to it again.
 
 •LOVE ME, LOVE MY DOG, 
 
 "5 
 
 " Love me, love my dog.' : 
 
 " LOVE ME, LOVE MY DOG " 
 
 EEMS, at first sight, an unreasonable demand. May I 
 profess no tenderness for Belinda without vowing an 
 attachment to Shock ? Must I feel an equal warmth towards 
 my bosom friend and his greyhound 1 Some country gentle- 
 men keep a pack of dogs. Am I expected to divide my per- 
 sonal regard for my Lord D. amongst all his celebrated fox- 
 bounds 1
 
 n r > WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 I may be constitutionally averse to the whole canine species : 
 I have been bitten, perhaps, in my infancy by a mastiff, or 
 pinned by a bull-clog. There are harrowing tales on record 
 of hydrophobia, of human barkings, and inhuman smother- 
 ings : a dog may be my bugbear. Again, there are differences 
 in taste. One man may like to have his hand licked all over 
 by a grateful spaniel ; but I would not have my extremity 
 served so — even by the human tongue. 
 
 But the proverb, so arrogant and absolute in spirit, becomes 
 harmless in its common application. The terms are seldom 
 enforced, except by persons that a gentleman is not likely to 
 embrace in his affection — rat-catchers, butchers, and bull- 
 baiters, tinkers and blind mendicants, beldames and witches. 
 A slaughterman's tulip-eared puppy is as liable to engage 
 one's liking as his chuckle- headed master. When a courtier 
 makes friends with a drover, he will not be likely to object 
 to a sheep-dog as a third party in the alliance. 
 
 " Love me,'' says Mother Sawyer, "love my dog." 
 
 Who careth to dote on either a witch or her familiar? The 
 proverb thus loses half of its oppression : in other cases, it 
 may become a pleasant fiction, an agreeable confession. I 
 forget what pretty Countess it was who made a confession of 
 her tenderness for a certain sea-captain by her abundant 
 caresses of his Esquimaux wolf-dog. The shame of the 
 avowal became milder, (as the virulence of the small-pox is 
 abated after passing through the constitution of a cow,) by 
 its transmission through the animaL
 
 "LOVE ME, LOVE MY DOG? 117 
 
 In like manner, a formal young Qi aker and Quakeress, 
 perfect strangers to each other, and who might otherwise 
 have sat mum chance together for many hours, fell suddenly 
 to romping, merely through the maiden's playfulness with 
 Obadiah's terrier. The dog broke the ice of formality, and, 
 as a third party, took off the painful awkwardness of self- 
 introduction. 
 
 Sir Ulic Mackilligut, when he wished to break handsomely 
 with Mistress Tabitha Bramble, kicked her cur. The dcg 
 broke the force of the affront, and the knight's gallantry was 
 spared the reproach of a direct confession of disgust towards 
 the spinster ; as the lady took the aversion to herself only as 
 the brute's ally. 
 
 My step-mother Hubbard and myself were not on visiting 
 terms for many years ; not, we flattered ourselves, through 
 any hatred or uncharitableness, disgraceful between relations? 
 but from a constitutional antipathy on the one side, and a 
 doting affection on the other — to a dog. My breach of duty 
 and decent respect was softened down into my dread of 
 hydrophobia : my second-hand parent even persuaded herself 
 that I was jealous of her regard for Bijou. It was a com- 
 fortable self-delusion on both sides. But the scape-goat died, 
 and then, having no reasonable reason to excuse my visits, 
 we came to an open rupture. There was no hope of another 
 favourite. My step-mother had no general affection for the 
 race, but only for that particular cur. It was one of those 
 incongruous attachments, not accountable to reason, but seem- 
 ingly predestined by fate. The dog was no keepsake — UQ 
 
 a.
 
 n8 
 
 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 favourite of a dear deceased friend. Ugly as the brute was, 
 she loved him for his own sake, — not for any fondness and 
 fidelity, for he was the most ungrateful dog, under kindness, 
 that I ever knew, — not for his vigilance, for he was never 
 wakeful. He was not useful, like a turnspit ; nor accom- 
 plished, for he could not dance. He had not personal beauty 
 
 : Poor-lray Charmant." 
 
 even to make him a welcome object ; and yet, if my relation 
 had been requested to display hur jewels, she wovdd have 
 pointed to the dog, and have answered, in the very spirit of 
 Cornelia, — " There is my Bijou." 
 
 Conceive, reader, under this endearing title, a hideous
 
 "LOVE ME, L VE MY DOG." 119 
 
 dwarf -mongrel, half pug and half terrier, with a face like a 
 frog's ; his goggle eyes squeezing out of his head ; a body 
 like a barrel churn, on four short bandy legs, — as if, in his 
 puppyhood, he had been ill-nursed, — terminating in a tail 
 like a rabbit's. There is only one sound in nature similar to 
 his barking. To hear his voice, you would have looked, not 
 for a dog, but for a duck. He was fat and scant of breath. 
 It misdit have been said that he was stuffed alive. But his 
 loving mistress, in mournful anticipation of his death, kept a 
 handsome glass case to hold his mummy. She intended, like 
 Queen Constance, to " stuff out his vacant garment with his 
 form ; " — to have him ever before her, " in his habit as lie 
 lived ; " — but that hope was never realized. 
 
 In those days there were dog- stealers, as well as slave- 
 dealers, — the kidnapping of the canine, as of the Negro vic- 
 tim, being attributable to his skin. 
 
 One evening Bijou disappeared. A fruitless search was 
 made for him at all his accustomed haunts ; but at day- 
 break the next morning, stripped naked of his skin, with 
 a mock paper frill, and the stump of a tobacco-pipe stuck 
 in his nether jaw, he was discovered, set upright against a 
 post ! 
 
 My step-mother's grief was ungovernable. Tears, which 
 she had not wasted on her deceased step-children, were shed 
 then. In her first transport, a reward of £100 was offered 
 for the apprehension of the murderers, but in vain. 
 
 The remains of Bijou, such as they were, she caused to be 
 deposited under the lawn.
 
 120 
 
 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 I forget what popular poet was gratified with ten guineas 
 for writing his epitaph ; but it was in the measure of the 
 " Pleasures of Hope." 
 
 * : '.Ut unto my tale of wo.; 1
 
 KEMONS TRA TOR V ODE. 1 2 x 
 
 REMONSTRATORY ODE, 
 
 FROM THE ELEPHANT AT EXETER CHANGE, TO MR MATHEWS, 
 AT THE ENGLISH OPERA-HOUSE. 
 
 " See with what courteous action, 
 He beckons you to a more removed ground.'' — Hamld. 
 
 [WRITTEN BY A FRIEND.] 
 
 Oh, Mr Mathews ! Sir ! 
 (If a plain elephant may speak his mind, 
 And that I have a mind to speak I find 
 
 By my inward stir) 
 I long have thought, and wish'd to say, that we 
 Mar our well-merited prosperity 
 
 By being such near neighbours, 
 My keeper now hath lent me pen and ink, 
 Shoved in my truss of lunch, and tub of drink, 
 
 And left me to my labours.
 
 122 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 The whole menagerie is in repose, 
 The Coatamundi is in his Sunday clothes, 
 Watching the Lynx's most unnatural doze ; 
 The Panther is asleep and the Macaw ; 
 The Lion is engaged on something raw ; 
 
 The white bear cools his chin 
 
 'Gainst the wet tin ; 
 And the confined old Monkey 's in the straw. 
 All the nine little Lionets are lying 
 Slumbering in milk, and sighing ; 
 
 Miss Cross is sipping ox-tail soup, 
 
 In her front coop, 
 So here 's the happy mid-day moment ; — yes, 
 I seize it, Mr Mathews, to address 
 
 A word or two 
 To you 
 On the subject of the ruin which must come 
 By both being in the Strand, and both at home 
 On the same nights ; two treats 
 
 So very near each other, 
 
 As, oh my brother ! 
 To play old gooseberry with both receipts. 
 
 ii. 
 
 When you begin 
 Your summer fun, three times a week, at eight, 
 And carriages roll up, and cits roll in,
 
 REMONSTRATORY ODE. 123 
 
 I feel a change in Exeter 'Change's change. 
 And, dash my trunk ! I hate 
 To ring my bell, when you ring yours, and go 
 With a diminish'd glory through my show ! 
 
 It is most strange ; 
 But crowds that meant to see me eat a stack, 
 And sip a water-butt or so, and crack 
 A root of mangel-wurzel with my foot, 
 Eat little children's fruit, 
 
 Pick from the floor small coins, 
 And then turn slowly round and show my India-rubber 
 loins : 
 'Tis strange — most strange, but true, 
 That these same crowds seek you ! 
 Pass my abode, and pay at your next door I 
 It makes me roar 
 
 With anguish when I think of this ; I go 
 With sad severity my nightly rounds 
 Before one poor front row, 
 My fatal funny foe ! 
 And when I stoop, as duty bids, I sigh 
 And feel that, while poor elephantine I, 
 
 Pick up a sixpence, you pick up the pounds I 
 
 in. 
 
 Could you not go ? 
 Could you not take the Cobourg or the Surrey? 
 Or Sadler's Wells, — (I am not in a hurry,
 
 1 24 I VH1MS A A D 0DD1 TIES. 
 
 I never am !) for the next season 1 — oh ! 
 
 Woe ! woe ! woe ! 
 To both of us, if we remain ; for not 
 In silence will I bear my alter'd lot, 
 To have you merry, sir, at my expense ; 
 
 No man of any sense, 
 No true great person (and we both are great 
 In our own ways) would tempt another's fate. 
 I would myself depart 
 In Mr Cross's cart ; 
 
 But, like Othello, " am not easily moved." 
 There 's a nice house in Tottenham Court, they say, 
 Fit for a single gentleman's small play ; 
 
 And more conveniently near your home : 
 
 You '11 easily go and come. 
 Or get a room in the City — in some street — 
 Coachmaker's Hall, or the Paul's Head, 
 
 Cateaton Street; 
 Any large place, in short, in which to get your bread ; 
 
 But do not stay, and get 
 
 Me into the Gazette ! 
 
 IV. 
 
 Ah ! The Gazette j 
 I press my forehead with my trunk, and wet 
 My tender cheek with elephantine tears, 
 
 Shed of a walnut size 
 
 From my wise eyes,
 
 KEMONSTRATORY ODE. 125 
 
 To think of ruin after prosperous years. 
 
 What a dread case would be 
 
 For me — large me ! 
 To meet at Basinghall Street, the first and seventh 
 
 And the eleventh ! 
 To undergo (D n !) 
 
 My last examination ! 
 
 " How happy could I be with either ! " 
 
 To cringe, and to surrender, 
 
 Like a criminal offender, 
 
 All my effects — my bell-pull, and my bell, 
 
 My bolt, my stock of hay, my new deal cell. 
 
 To post my ivory, Sir ! 
 And have some curious commissioner 
 Very irreverently search my trunk ; 
 
 'Sdeath ! I should die
 
 126 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 With rage, to find a tiger in possession 
 
 Of my abode ; up to his yellow knees 
 In my old straw ; and my profound profession 
 Entrusted to two beasts of assignees ! 
 
 v. 
 
 The truth is simply this, — if you will stay 
 
 Under my very nose, 
 
 Filling your rows 
 Just at my feeding time, to see your play, 
 
 My mind 's made up, 
 
 No more at nine I sup, 
 Except on Tuesdays, Wednesdays, Fridays, Sundays, 
 
 From eight to eleven, 
 
 As I hope for heaven, 
 On Thursdays, and on Saturdays, and Mondays, 
 1 '11 squeak and roar, and grunt without cessation, 
 And utterly confound your recitation. 
 And, mark me ! all my friends of the furry snout 
 
 Shall join a chorus shout, 
 We will be heard — we '11 spoil 
 Your wicked ruination toil. 
 
 Insolvency must ensue 
 
 To you, sir, you ; 
 Unless you move your opposition shop, 
 
 And let me stop.
 
 REMONSTRATORY ODE. 127 
 
 VI. 
 
 I have no more to say : — I do not write 
 In anger, but in sorrow ; I must look 
 However to my interests every night, 
 
 And they detest your " Memorandum-book." 
 If we could join our forces — I should like it ; 
 
 You do the dialogue, and I the songs, 
 A voice to me belongs ; 
 
 P 
 
 "Take, take those lips away !" 
 
 (The Editors of the Globe and Traveller ring 
 With praises of it, when I hourly sing 
 
 God save the King.) 
 If such a bargain could be schemed I 'd strike it ! 
 I think, too, I could do the Welch old man 
 In the Youthful Days, if dress'd upon your plan ; 
 And the attorney in your Paris trip, — 
 I 'm large about the hip !
 
 128 WHIMS AMD ODDITIES 
 
 Now think of this ! — for we cannot go on 
 
 As next door rivals, that my mind declares 
 I must be penniless, or you be gone I 
 We must live separate, or else have shares, 
 I am a friend or foe 
 As you take this ; 
 Let me your profitable hubbub miss, 
 Or be it •• Mathews, Elephant, and Co. !" 
 
 <sr^<«afe«^^
 
 A NEW LIFE-PRESERVER. 129 
 
 A NEW LIFE-PRESERVER. 
 
 " Of hair-breadth 'scapes."— Othello. 
 
 HAVE read somewhere of a Traveller, who carried 
 with him a brace of pistols, a carbine, a cutlass, a 
 dagger, and an umbrella, but was indebted for his preserva- 
 tion to the umbrella : it grappled with a bush when he was 
 
 rolling over a precipice. In like manner, my friend W , 
 
 though armed with a sword, rifle, and hunting-knife, owed 
 his existence — 4o his wig ! 
 
 He was specimen-hunting (for W— is a first-rate natu- 
 ralist) somewhere in the backwoods of America, when, hap- 
 pening to light upon a dense cavert, there sprang out upon 
 him, — not a panther or cat;<mnmtain, — but, with terrible 
 whoop and yell, a wild Indian, — one of a tribe then hostile 
 
 to our settlers. W 's gun was mastered in a twinkling, 
 
 himself stretched on the earth, the barbarous knife, destined 
 to make him balder than Granby's celebrated Marquis, leaped 
 eagerly from its sheath.
 
 1 3 o WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 Conceive the horrible weapon making its preliminary 
 flourishes and circumgyrations ; the savage features, made 
 «avager by paint and ruddle, working themselves up to a 
 demoniacal crisis of triumphant malignity ; his red right hand 
 clutching the shearing-knife ; his left, the frizzled top-knot ; 
 and then, the artificial scalp coming off in the Mohawk 
 grasp ! 
 
 W says, the Indian catchpole was, for some moments, 
 
 motionless with surprise : recovering, at last, he dragged his 
 captive along, through brake and jungle, to the encampment. 
 A peculiar whoop soon brought the whole horde to the spot. 
 The Indian addressed them with vehement gestures, in the 
 
 course of which W was again thrown down, the knife 
 
 again performed its circuits, and the whole transaction was 
 pantomiinicaliy described. All Indian sedateness and restraint 
 were overcome. The assembly made every demonstration of 
 wonder; and the wig was fitted on, rightly, and askew, and 
 hind part before, by a hundred pair of red hands. Captain 
 Gulliver's glove was not a greater puzzle to the Houyhnhnms. 
 From the men it passed to the squaws ; and from them, 
 
 down to the least of the urchins ; W 's head, in the 
 
 meantime, frying in a midsummer sun. At length, the 
 phenomenon returned into the hands of the chief — a vener- 
 able greybeard : he examined it afresh, very attentively, and,- 
 after a long deliberation, maintained with true Indian silence 
 and gravity, made a speech in his own tongue, that procured 
 for the anxious trembling captive very unexpected honours. 
 In fact, the whole tribe of women and warriors danced round
 
 a NEW LIFE-PRESERVER. 131 
 
 him, with such unequivocal marks of homage, that even 
 
 W comprehended that he was not intended for sacrifice. 
 
 He was then carried in triumph to their wigwams, his body- 
 daubed with their body colours of the most honourable 
 patterns ; and he was given to understand, that he might 
 choose any of their marriageable maidens for a squaw. 
 Availing himself of this privilege, and so becoming, by 
 degrees, more a proficient in their language, he learned the 
 cause of this extraordinary respect. — It was considered, that 
 he had been a great warrior ; that he had, by mischance ol 
 war, been overcome and tufted ; but that, whether by valour 
 or stratagem, each equally estimable amongst the savages, 
 he had recovered his liberty and his scalp. 
 
 As long as W kept his own counsel, he was safe ; but 
 
 trusting his Indian Delilah with the secret of his locks, it 
 soon got wind amongst the squaws, and from them became 
 known to the warriors and chiefs. A solemn sitting was 
 held at midnight, by the chiefs, to consider the propriety of 
 knocking the poor wig-owner on the head ; but he had re- 
 ceived a timely hint of their intention, and, when the toma- 
 hawks sought for him, he was far on his way, with his Life- 
 preserver, towards a British settlement. 
 
 e*©fc3>"fci>
 
 1 12 
 
 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 A DREAM. 
 
 N" the figure above, — (a medley of human faces, 
 wherein certain features belong in common to dif- 
 ferent visages, the eyebrow of one, for instance, forming the 
 mouth of another,) — I have tried to typify a common charac- 
 teristic of dreams, namely, the entanglement of divers ideas, 
 to the waking mind distinct or incongruous, but, by the con- 
 fusion of sleep, inseparably ravelled up, and knotted into 
 Gordian intricacies. For, as the equivocal feature, in the 
 emblem, belongs indifferently to either countenance, but is
 
 A DREAM. 133 
 
 appropriated by the head that happens to be presently the 
 object of contemplation ; so, in a dream, two separate notions 
 will mutually involve some convertible incident, that becomes, 
 by turns, a symptom of both in general, or of either in 
 particular. Thus are begotten the most extravagant associa- 
 tions of thoughts and images,- — unnatural connexions, like 
 
 OCT? / 
 
 those marriages of forbidden relationships, where mothers 
 become cousin to their own sons or daughters, and quite as 
 bewildering as such genealogical embarrassments. 
 
 I had a dismal dream once, of this nature, that will serve 
 well for an illustration, and which originated in the failure 
 of my first, and last, attempt as a dramatic writer. Many of 
 my readers, if I were to name the piece in question, would 
 remember its signal condemnation. As soon as the Tragedy 
 of my Tragedy was completed, I got into a coach and rode 
 home. My nerves were quivering with shame and mortifica- 
 tion. I tried to compose myself over " Paradise Lost," but it 
 failed to soothe me. I flung myself into bed, and at length 
 slept ; but the disaster of the night still haunted my dreams ; 
 I was again in the accursed theatre; but with a difference. 
 It was a compound of the Drury Lane Building and Pande- 
 monium. There were the old shining green pillars, on either 
 side of the stage, but, above, a sublimer dome than ever over- 
 hung mortal playhouse. The wonted familiars were in keep- 
 ing of the fore-spoken seats, but the first companies they 
 admitted were new and strange to the place. The first and 
 second tiers, 
 
 " With dreadful faces throng'd, and fiery arms,"
 
 ij 4 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 showed like those purgatorial circles sung of by the ancient 
 Florentine. Satan was in 'the stage-box. The pit, dismally 
 associated with its bottomless namesake, was peopled with 
 fiends. Mehu scowled from the critics' seat. Belial, flashed 
 with wine, led on with shout and catcall the uproar of the 
 one shilling infernals. My hair stood upright with dread 
 and horror ; I had an appalling sense, that more than my 
 dramatic welfare was at stake : — that it was to be not a 
 purely literary ordeal. An alarming figure, sometimes a 
 newspaper reporter, sometimes a devil, so prevaricating are 
 the communications of sleep, was sitting, with his note book, 
 at my side. My play began. As it proceeded, sounds in- 
 describable arose from the infernal auditory, increasing till 
 the end of the first act. The familiar cry, of " Chuse any 
 oranges ! " was then intermingled with the murmurings of 
 demons. The tumult grew with the progress of the play. 
 The last act passed in dumb show, the horned monsters 
 bellowing, throughout, like the wild bulls of Bashan. Prongs 
 and flesh-hooks showered upon the stage. Mrs Siddons — the 
 human nature thus jumbling with the diabolical — was struck 
 by a brimstone ball. Her lofty brother, robed in imperial 
 purple, came forward towards the orchestra, to remonstrate, 
 and was received like the Arch-devil in the Poem : 
 
 "He hears 
 On all sides, from innumerable tongues, 
 A dismal universal hiss, the sound 
 Of public scorn." 
 
 He bowed to the sense of the house, and withdrew. My
 
 A DUE AM. 13 S 
 
 doom was sealed ; the recording devil noted down my sentence. 
 A suffocating vapour, now smelling of sulphur, and now of 
 gas, issued from the unquenchable stage lamps. The flames 
 of the Catalonian Castle, burning in the back scene, in com- 
 pliance with the catastrophe of the piece, blazed up with 
 horrible import. My flesh crept all over me. I thought of 
 the everlasting torments, and at the next moment, of the 
 morrow's paragraphs. I shrunk at once from the comments 
 
 " Oh, breathe not his name ! " 
 
 of the Morning Post, and the hot marl of Malebolge. The 
 sins of authorship had confounded themselves, inextricably, 
 with the mortal sins of the law. I could not disentangle my 
 own from my play's perdition. I was damned : but whether 
 spiritually or dramatically the twilight intelligence of a dream 
 was not clear enough to determine.
 
 136 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 Another sample, wherein the preliminaries of the dream 
 involved one portion, and implicitly forbade the other half of 
 the conclusion, was more whimsical. It occurred when I was 
 on the eve of ' marriage, a season, when, if lovers sleep spar- 
 ingly, they dream profusely. A very brief slumber sufficed 
 to carry me in the night-coach to Bognor. It had been con- 
 certed, between Honoria and myself, that we should pass the 
 honeymoon at some such place upon the coast. The purpose 
 of my solitary journey was to procure an appropriate dwelling, 
 and which, we had agreed, should be a little pleasant house, 
 with an indispensable look-out upon the sea. I chuse one, 
 accordingly ; a pretty villa, with bow windows, and a prospect 
 delightfully marine. The ocean murmur sounded incessantly 
 from the beach. A decent elderly body, in decayed sables, 
 undertook, on her part, to promote the comforts of the occu- 
 pants by every suitable attention, and, as she assured me, at 
 a very reasonable rate. So far, the nocturnal faculty had 
 served me truly. A day-dream could not have proceeded 
 more orderly : but alas ! just here, when the dwelling was 
 selected, the sea view secured, the rent agreed upon, when 
 everything was plausible, consistent, and rational, the inco- 
 herent fancy crept in and confounded all, — by marrying me 
 to the old woman of the house ! 
 
 A large proportion of my dreams have, like the preceding, 
 an origin, more or less remote, in some actual occurrence. 
 But from all my observations and experience, the popular 
 notion is a mistaken one, that our dreams take their subject 
 and colour from the business or meditations of the day. It
 
 A DREAM. 137 
 
 is true, that sleep frequently gives back real images and 
 actions, like a mirror ; but the reflection returns at a longer 
 interval. It extracts from pages of some standing, like the 
 " Retrospective Review." The mind released from its con- 
 nexion with external associations, flies off, gladly, to novel 
 speculations. The soul does not carry its tasks out of school. 
 The novel, read upon the pillow, is of no more influence than 
 the bride-cake laid beneath it. The charms of Di Vernon 
 have faded with me, into a vision of Dr Faustus ; the bridal 
 dance and festivities, into a chase by a mad bullock. 
 
 The sleeper, like the felon, at the putting on of the night- 
 cap, is about to be turned off from the affairs of this world. 
 The material scaffold sinks under him ; he drops — as it is 
 expressively called — asleep ; and the spirit is transported, we 
 know not whither ! 
 
 I should like to know, that, by any earnest application of 
 thought, we could impress its subject upon the midnight 
 blank. It would be worth a day's devotion to Milton, — 
 " from morn till noon, from noon till dewy eve," — to obtain 
 but one glorious vision from the " Paradise Lost ;" to Spenser, 
 to purchase but one magical reflection — a Fata Morgana, of 
 the " Faery Queen ! " I have heard it affirmed, indeed, by a 
 gentleman, an especial advocate of Early Rising, that he 
 could procure whatever dream he wished ; but I disbelieve it, 
 or he would pass far more hours than he does in bed. If it 
 were possible, by any process, to bespeak the night's enter- 
 tainment, the theatres, for me, might close their uninviting 
 doors. Who would care to sit at the miserable stage parodies
 
 138 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 of " Lear," " Hamlet," and " Othello ; " to say nothing of 
 the "Tempest," or the "Midsummer Night's Phantasy," — 
 that could command the representation of either of those 
 noble Dramas, with all the sublime personations, the magni- 
 ficent scenery, and awful reality of a dream 1 
 
 For horrible fancies merely, nightmares and incubi, there 
 is a recipe extant, that is currently attributed to the late Mr 
 Fuseli. I mean, a supper of raw pork ; but, as I never slept 
 after it, I cannot speak as to the effect. 
 
 "My nature is subdued to what it works in." 
 
 Opium I have never tried, and, therefore, have never expe- 
 rienced such magnificent visions as are described by its eloquent 
 historian. I have never been buried for ages under pyramids ; 
 and yet, mcthinks, have suffered agonies as intense as his 
 could be from the common-place inflictions. For example, a
 
 A DREAM. 139 
 
 night spent in the counting of interminable numbers — an 
 inquisitorial penance — everlasting tedium — the mind's tread- 
 mill ! 
 
 Another writer, in recording his horrible dreams, describes 
 himself to have been sometimes an animal pursued by hounds ; 
 sometimes a bird, torn in pieces by eagles. They are flat 
 contradictions of my Theory of Dreams. Such Ovidian Meta- 
 morphoses never yet entered into my experience. I never 
 translate myself. I must know the taste of rape and hemp- 
 seed, and have cleansed my gizzard with small gravel, before 
 even Fancy can turn me into a bird. I must have another 
 nowl upon my shoulders, ere I can feel a longing for "a bottle 
 of chopt hay, or your good dried oats." My own habits and 
 prejudices, all the symptoms of my identity, cling to me in 
 my dreams. It never happened to me to fancy myself a 
 child or a woman, dwarf or giant, stone-blind, or deprived of 
 any sense. 
 
 And here, the latter part of the sentence reminds me of an 
 interesting question on this subject, that has greatly puzzled 
 me, and of which I should be glad to obtain a satisfactory 
 solution, viz., How does a blind man dream 1 — I mean a 
 person with the opaque chrystal from his birth. He is defec- 
 tive in that very faculty which, of all others, is most active 
 in those night-passages, thence emphatically called Visions. 
 He has had no acquaintance with external images, and has, 
 therefore, none of those transparent pictures that, like the 
 slides of a magic-lantern, pass before the mind's eye, and 
 are projected by the inward spiritual light upon the utter
 
 1 4 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 blank. His imagination must be like an imperfect kaleido- 
 scope, totally unfurnished with those parti-coloured fragments 
 whereof the complete instrument makes such interminable 
 combinations. It is difficult to conceive such a man's dream. 
 
 Is it a still benighted wandering — a pitch-dark night pro- 
 gress, made known to him by the consciousness of the re- 
 maining senses ? Is he still pulled through the universal 
 blank, by an invisible power as it were, at the nether end of 
 the string? — regaled, sometimes, with celestial voluntaries 
 and unknown mysterious fragrances, answering to our more 
 romantic flights ; at other times, with homely voices and 
 more familiar odours ; here, of rank-smelling cheeses ; there, 
 of pungent pickles or aromatic drugs, hinting his progress 
 through a metropolitan street. Does he over again enjoy the 
 grateful roundness of those substantial droppings from the 
 invisible passenger, — palpable deposits of an abstract benevo- 
 lence, — or, in his nightmares, suffer anew those painful con- 
 cussions and corporeal buffetings, from that (to him) obscure 
 evil principle, the Parish Beadle 1 
 
 This question I am happily enabled to resolve, through 
 the information of the oldest of those blind Tobits that stand 
 in fresco against Bunhill Wall ; the same who made that 
 notable comparison of scarlet to the sound of a trumpet. As 
 I understood him, harmony, with the gravel-blind, is prismatic 
 as well as chromatic. To use his own illustration, a wall-eyed 
 man has a palette in his ear, as well as in his mouth. Some 
 stone-blinds, indeed, dull dogs, without any ear for colour, 
 profess to distinguish the different hues and shades, by the
 
 A DREAM. 141 
 
 touch, but that, he said, was a slovenly uncertain method, 
 and in the chief article of Paintings not allowed to be exer- 
 cised. 
 
 On my expressing some natural surprise at the aptitude of 
 his celebrated comparison, — a miraculous close likening, to 
 my mind, of the known to the unknown, — he told me the 
 instance was nothing, for the least discriminative among them 
 could distinguish the scarlet colour of the mail-guards' liveries, 
 by the sound of their horns : but there were others, so acute 
 their faculty ! that they could tell the very features and 
 complexion of their relatives and familiars, by the mere tone 
 of their voices. I was much gratified with this explanation ; 
 for I confess, hitherto, I was always extremely puzzled by that 
 narrative in the Tatler, of a young gentleman's behaviour 
 after the operation of couching, and especially at the wonder- 
 ful promptness with which he distinguished his father from 
 his mother, — his mistress from her maid. But it appears that 
 the blind are not so blind as they have been esteemed in the 
 vulgar notion. What they cannot get one way they obtain in 
 another : they, in fact, realise what the author of Hudibras 
 has ridiculed as a fiction, for they set up 
 
 " Communities of senses, 
 To chop and change intelligences. 
 As Rosicrucian Virtuosis 
 an see with ecus — and hear with noses."
 
 bpriug aud Fall.
 
 THE IRISH SCHOOLMASTER. 143 
 
 I 
 
 THE IRISH SCHOOLMASTER. 
 
 LACK ! 'tis melancholy theme to think 
 How Learning doth in rugged states abide, 
 
 And, like her bashful owl, obscurely blink, 
 In pensive glooms and corners, scarcely spied ; 
 Not, as in Founders' Halls and domes of pride, 
 Served with grave homage, like a tragic queen, 
 But with one lonely priest compell'd to hide, 
 In midst of foggy moors and mosses green, 
 In that clay cabin bight the College of Kilreen ! 
 
 II. 
 
 This College looketh South and West alsoe, 
 Because it hath a cast in windows twain ; 
 Crazy and crack'd they be, and wind doth blow 
 Thorough transparent holes in every pane, 
 Which Dan, with many paines, makes whole again 
 With nether garments, which his thrift doth teach, 
 To stand for glass, like pronouns, and when rain 
 Stormeth, he puts, " once more unto the breach," 
 Outside and in, though broke, yet so he mendeth each.
 
 144 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 III. 
 
 And in the midst a little door there is, 
 Whereon a board that doth congratulate 
 With painted letters, red as blood I wis, 
 Thus written, 
 
 "CHILDREN TAKEN IN TO BATE:" 
 And oft, indeed, the inward of that gate, 
 Most ventriloque, doth utter tender squeak, 
 And moans of infants that bemoan their fate, 
 In midst of sounds of Latin, French, and Greek, 
 Which, all i' the Irish tongue, he teacheth them to speak. 
 
 IV. 
 
 For some are meant to right illegal wrongs 
 And some for Doctors of Divinitie, 
 Whom he doth teach to murder the dead tongues, 
 And soe win academical degree ; 
 But some are bred for service of the sea, 
 Howbeit, their store of learning is but small. 
 For mickle waste he counteth it would be 
 To stock a head with bookish wares at all, 
 Only to be knock'd off by ruthless cannon ball. 
 
 Six babes he sways, — some little and some big, 
 Divided into classes six ; — alsoe,
 
 THE IRISH SCHOOLMASTER. 145 
 
 He keeps a parlour boarder of a pig, 
 That in the College fareth to and fro, 
 And picketh up the urchins' crumbs below,-— 
 And eke the learned rudiments they scan, 
 And thus his A, B, C, doth wisely know,— 
 Hereafter to be shown in caravan, 
 And raise the wonderment of many a learned man. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Alsoe, he schools some tame familiar fowls, 
 Whereof, above his head, some two or three 
 Sit darkly squatting, like Minerva's owls. 
 But on the branches of no living tree, 
 And overlook the learned family ; 
 While, sometimes, Partlet, from her gloomy perch, 
 Drops feather on the nose of Dominie, 
 Meanwhile, with serious eye, he makes research 
 In leaves of that sour tree of knowledge — now a birch. 
 
 vn. 
 
 No chair he hath, the awful Pedagogue, 
 Such as would magisterial hams imbed, 
 But sitteth lowly on a beechen log, 
 Secure in high authority and dread :
 
 146 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 Large, as a dome for learning, seems Ms head, 
 And like Apollo's, all beset with rays, 
 Because his locks are so unkempt and red, 
 And stand abroad in many several ways : — 
 No laurel crown he wears, howbeit his cap is baise, 
 
 VIII. 
 
 And, underneath, a pair of shaggy brows 
 O'erhang as many eyes of gizzard hue, 
 That inward giblet of a fowl, which shows 
 A mongrel tint, that is ne brown ne blue ; 
 His nose, — it is a coral to the view ; 
 Well nourish'd with Pierian Potheen, — 
 For much he loves his native mountain dew ; — 
 But to depict the dye would lack, I ween, 
 A bottle-red, in terms, as well as bottle-green. 
 
 IX. 
 
 As for his coat, 'tis such a jerkin short 
 As Spencer had, ere he composed his Tales ; 
 But underneath he hath no vest, nor aught, 
 So that the wind his airy breast assails ; 
 Below, he wears the nether garb of males, 
 Of crimson plush, but non-plush'd at the knee ;- 
 Thence further down the native red prevails, 
 Of his own naked fleecy hosierie : — 
 Two sandals, without soles, complete his cap-a-pee.
 
 THE IRISH SCHOOLMASTER. 147 
 
 Nathless, for dignity, he now doth lap 
 His function in a magisterial gown, 
 That shows more countries in it than a map, — 
 Blue tinct, and red, and green, and russt brown, 
 Besides some blots, standing for country-town ; 
 And eke some rents, for streams and rivers wide ; 
 But, sometimes, bashful when he looks adown, 
 He turns the garment of the other side, 
 Hopeful that so the holes may never be espied ! 
 
 XI. 
 
 And soe he sits, amidst the little pack, 
 That look for shady or for sunny noon, 
 Within his visage, like an almanack, — 
 His quiet smile foretelling gracious boon : 
 But when his mouth droops down, like rainy moon, 
 With horrid chill each little heart unwarms, 
 Knowing that infant show'rs will follow soon, 
 And with forebodings of near wrath and storms 
 They sit, like timid hares, all trembling on their forms. 
 
 XII. 
 
 Ah ! luckless wight, who cannot then repeat 
 "Corduroy Colloquy,"— or " Ki, Kse, Kod,"-
 
 i 4 8 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 Full soon his tears shall make his turfy seat 
 More sodden, though already made of sod, 
 For Dan shall whip him with the word of God,- 
 Severe by rule, and not by nature mild, 
 He never spoils the child and spares the rod, 
 But spoils the rod and never spares the child, 
 And soe with holy rule deems he is reconciled. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 But, surely, the just sky will never wink 
 At men who take delight in childish throe, 
 And stripe the nether-urchin like a pink 
 Or tender hyacinth, inscribed with woe ; 
 Such bloody Pedagogues, when they shall know, 
 By useless birches, that forlorn recess, 
 Which is no holiday, in Pit below, 
 Will hell not seem design'd for their distress,— 
 A melancholy place, that is all bottomlesse 1 
 
 XIV. 
 
 Yet would the Muse not chide the wholesome use 
 Of needful discipline, in due degree. 
 Devoid of sway, what wrongs will time produce, 
 Whene'er the twig untrain'd grows up a tree,
 
 THE IRISH SCHOOLMASTER. 149 
 
 This shall a Carder, that a Whiteboy be, 
 Ferocious leaders of atrocious bands, 
 And Learning's help be used for infamie, 
 By lawless clerks, that, with their bloody hands, 
 In murdered English write Eock's murderous commands. 
 
 xv. 
 
 But ah ! what shrilly cry doth now alarm 
 The sooty fowls that dozed upon the beam, 
 All sudden fluttering from the brandish'd arm, 
 And cackling chorus with the human scream ; 
 Meanwhile, the scourge plies that unkindly seam 
 In Phelim's brogues, which bares his naked skin, 
 Like traitor gap in warlike fort, I deem, 
 That falsely lets the fierce besieger in 
 Nor seeks the Pedagogue by other course to win. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 No parent dear he hath to heed his cries ; — 
 Alas ! his parent dear is far aloof, 
 And deep his Seven-Dial cellar lies, 
 Kill'd by kind cudgel-play, or gin of proof, 
 Or climbeth, catwise, on some London roof, 
 Singing, perchance, a lay of Erin's Isle, 
 Or, whilst he labours, weaves a fancy-woof, 
 Dreaming he sees his home, — his Phelim smile ; 
 Ah me ! that luckless imp, who weepeth all the while ! 
 
 K
 
 150 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 Ah ! who can paint that hard and heavy time, 
 When first the scholar lists in learning's train, 
 And mounts her nigged steep, enforced to climb, 
 Like sooty imp, by sharp posterior pain, 
 From bloody twig, and eke that Indian cane, 
 Wherein, alas ! no sugar'd juices dwell, 
 For this, the while one stripling's sluices drain 
 Another weepeth over chilblains fell, 
 Always upon the heel, yet never to be well ! 
 
 xvm. 
 
 Anon a third, for his delicious root, 
 Late ravish'd from his tooth by elder chit, 
 So soon is human violence afoot, 
 So hardly is the harmless biter bit ! 
 Meanwhile, the tyrant, with untimely wit 
 And mouthing face, deride's the small one's moan, 
 Who, all lamenting for his loss, doth sit, 
 Alack, — mischance comes seldomtimes alone, 
 But aye the worried dog must rue more curs than one. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 For lo ! the Pedagogue, with sudden drub, 
 Smites his scald head, that is already sore, —
 
 THE IRISH SCHOOLMASTER 
 
 i^i 
 
 Superfluous wound, — such is Misfortune's rub ! 
 Who straight makes answer with redoubled roar, 
 And sheds salt tears twice faster than before, 
 That still with backward fist he strives to dry ; 
 Washing, with brackish moisture, o'er and o'er, 
 His muddy cheek, that grows more foul thereby, 
 Till all his rainy face looks grim as rainy sky. 
 
 "All in the downs." 
 
 XX. 
 
 So Dan, by dint of noise, obtains a peace, 
 And with his natural untender knack, 
 By new distress, bids former grievance cease, 
 Like tears dried up with rugged huckaback,
 
 152 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 That sets the mournful visage all awrack ; 
 Yet soon the childish countenance will shine 
 Even as thorough storms the soonest slack, 
 For grief and beef in adverse ways incline, 
 This keeps, and that decays, when duly soak'd in brine. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 Now all is hush'd, and with a look profound, 
 The Dominie lays ope the learned page ; 
 (So be it called) although he doth expound 
 Without a book, both Greek and Latin sage ; 
 Now telleth he of Rome's rude infant age, 
 How Romulus was bred in savage wood, 
 By wet-nurse wolf, devoid of wolfish rage ; 
 And laid foundation-stone of walls of mud, 
 But water' d it, alas ! with warm fraternal blood. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 Anon, he turns to that Homeric war, 
 How Troy was sieged like Londonderry town ; 
 And stout Achilles at his jaunting-car, 
 Dragg'd mighty Hector with a bloody crown : 
 And eke the bard, that sung of their renown, 
 In garb of Greece most beggar-like and torn, 
 He paints, with colly, wand'ring up and down. 
 Because, at once, in seven cities born ; 
 And so, of parish rights was, all his days forlorn.
 
 THE IRISH SCHOOLMASTER. 
 
 ! 53 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 Anon, through old mythology he goes, 
 Of gods defunct, and all their pedigrees, 
 But shuns their scandalous amours, and shows 
 How Plato wise, and clear-eyed Socrates, 
 Confess'd not to those heathen hes and shes ; 
 But through the clouds of the Olympic cope 
 Beheld St Peter, with his holy keys, 
 And own'd their love was naught, and bow'd to Pope, 
 Whilst all their purblind race in Pagan mist did grope. 
 
 " ! there 's nothing half so sweet in life." 
 XXIV. 
 
 From such quaint themes he turns, at last, aside, 
 To new philosophies, that still are green,
 
 154 WIH MS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 And shows what railroads have been track'd to guide 
 The wheels of great political machine ; 
 If English corn should go abroad, I ween, 
 And gold be made of gold, or paper sheet ; 
 How many pigs be born to each spalpeen ; 
 And, ah ! how man shall thrive beyond his meat, — 
 With twenty souls alive, to one square sod of peat ! 
 
 xxv. 
 
 Here, he makes end ■ and all the fry of yout\ 
 That stood around with serious look intense, 
 Close up again their gaping eyes and mouth, 
 Which they had open'd to his eloquence, 
 As if their hearing were a threefold sense, 
 But now the current of his words is done, 
 And whether any fruits shall spring from thence, 
 In future time, with anv mother's son, 
 It is a thing, God wot ! that can be told by none. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 Now by the creeping shadows of the noon, 
 The hour is come to lay aside their lore ; 
 The cheerful pedagogue perceives it soon, 
 And cries, " Begone ! " unto the imps, — and four
 
 THE IRISH SCHOOLMASTER. 155 
 
 Snatch their two bats, and struggle for the door, 
 Like ardent spirits vented from a cask, 
 All blythe and boisterous, — but leave two more, 
 With Reading made Uneasy for a task, 
 To weep, whilst all their mates in merry sunshine bask. 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 Like sportive Elfins, on the verdant sod, 
 With tender moss so sleekly overgrown, 
 That doth not hurt, bufe kiss, the sole unshod, 
 So soothly kind is Erin to her own ! 
 And one, at Hare and Hound, plays all alone, — 
 For Phelim 's gone to tend his step-dame's cow ; 
 Ah ! Phelim's step-dame is a canker'd crone ! 
 Whilst other twain play at an Irish row, 
 And, with shillelah small, break one another's brow ! 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 But careful Dominie, with ceaseless thrift, 
 Now changeth ferula for rural hoe ; 
 But, first of all, with tender hand doth shift 
 His college gown, because of solar glow, 
 And hangs it on a bush, to scare the crow : 
 Meanwhile, he plants in earth the dappled bean, 
 Or trains the young potatoes all a-row, 
 Or plucks the fragrant leek for pottage green, 
 With that crisp curly herb, call'd Kale in Aberdeen.
 
 156 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 And so he wisely spends the fruitful hours, 
 Link'd each to each by labour, like a bee ; 
 Or rules in Learning's hall, or trims her bow'rs ; — 
 Would there were many more such wights as he, 
 To sway each capital academic 
 Of Cam and Isis, for, alack ! at each 
 There dwells, I wot, some dronish Dominie ; 
 That does no garden work, nor yet doth teach, 
 But wears a floury head, and talks in flow'ry speech I 
 
 <£W&G!!hg£>
 
 THE SEA-SPELL. 
 
 153 
 
 jZp^m* ^ 
 
 Paudeans. 
 
 THE SEA-SPELL. 
 
 " Cauld, cauld, he lies beneath the deep." 
 
 Old Scotch Ballad. 
 
 T was a jolly mariner ! 
 
 The tallest man of three, — 
 He loosed his sail against the wind, 
 And turned his boat to sea : 
 The ink-black sky told every eye, 
 A storm was soon to be !
 
 158 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 II. 
 
 But still that jolly mariner 
 
 Took in no reef at all, 
 
 For, in his pouch, confidingly, 
 
 He wore a baby's caul ; 
 
 A thing, as gossip-nurses know, 
 
 That always brings a squall ! 
 
 in. 
 
 His hat was new, or newly glazed, 
 
 Shone brightly in the sun ■ 
 
 His jacket, like a mariner's, 
 
 True blue, as e'er was spun ; 
 
 His ample trowsers, like Saint Paul, 
 
 Bore forty stripes save one. 
 
 iv: 
 
 And now the fretting foaming tide 
 
 He steer'd away to cross ; 
 
 The bounding pinnace play'd a game 
 
 Of dreary pitch and toss ; 
 
 A game that, on the good dry land, 
 
 Is apt to bring a loss !
 
 THE SEA-SPELL. 159 
 
 Good Heaven befriend that little boat, 
 
 And guide her on her way ! 
 
 A boat, they say, has canvas wings, 
 
 But cannot fly away ! 
 
 Though like a merry singing bird, 
 
 She sits upon the spray ! 
 
 VI. 
 
 Still east by south the little boat, 
 
 With tawny sail kept beating : 
 
 Now out of sight, between two Avaves, 
 
 Now o'er th' horizon fleeting : 
 
 Like greedy swine that feed on mast, — 
 
 The waves her mast seem'd eating ! 
 
 VII. 
 
 The sullen sky grew black above, 
 
 The wave as black beneath ; 
 
 Each roaring billow show'd full soon 
 
 A white and foamy wreath ; 
 
 Like angry dogs that snarl at first, 
 
 And then display their teeth.
 
 i6o 
 
 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 The boatman look'd against the wind, 
 The mast began to creak, 
 
 " De Gustibus non est disputandum." 
 
 The wave, per saltum, came and dried, 
 In salt, upon his cheek ! 
 The pointed wave against him rear' J, 
 As if it own'd a pique 1
 
 THE SEA-SPELL. 161 
 
 IX. 
 
 Nor rushing wind, nor gushing wave, 
 
 That boatman could alarm, 
 
 But still he stood away to sea, 
 
 And trusted in his charm ; 
 
 He thought by purchase he was safe, 
 
 And arm'd against all harm ! 
 
 x. 
 
 Now thick and fast and far aslant, 
 The stormy rain came pouring, 
 He heard upon the sandy bank, 
 The distant breakers roaring, — 
 A groaning intermitting sound, 
 Like Gog and Magog snoring ! 
 
 XI. 
 
 The seafowl shriek'd around the mast, 
 
 Ahead the grampus tumbled, 
 
 And far off, from a copper cloud, 
 
 The hollow thunder rumbled ; 
 
 It would have quail'd another heart, 
 
 But his was never humbled.
 
 1 62 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 XII. 
 
 For why 1 he had that infant's caul ; 
 And wherefore should he dread 1 — 
 Alas ! alas ! he little thought, 
 Before the ebb-tide sped, — 
 That like that infant, he should die, 
 And with a watery head ! 
 
 XIII. 
 
 The rushing brine flow'd in apace ; 
 
 His boat had ne'er a deck ; 
 
 Fate seem'd to call him on, and ha 
 
 Attended to her beck ; 
 
 And so he went, still trusting on, 
 
 Though reckless — to his wreck ! 
 
 XIV. 
 
 For as he left his helm, to heavo 
 
 The ballast bags a-weather, 
 
 Three monstrous seas came roaring on, 
 
 Like lions leagued together. 
 
 The two first waves the little boat 
 
 Swam over like a feather. —
 
 THE SEA-SPELL. 163 
 
 XV. 
 
 The two first waves were past and gone, 
 
 And sinking in her wake ; 
 
 The hugest still came leaping on, 
 
 And hissing like a snake, 
 
 Now helm a-lee ! for through the midst, 
 
 The monster he must take ! 
 
 XVI. 
 
 Ah, me ! it was a dreary mount ! 
 
 Its base as black as night, 
 
 Its top of pale and livid green, 
 
 Its crest of awful white, 
 
 Like Neptune with a leprosy, — 
 
 And so it rear'd upright ! 
 
 XVII. 
 
 With quaking sails the little boat 
 Climb'd up the foaming heap ; 
 With quaking sails it paused awhile, 
 At balance on the steep ; 
 Then rushing down the nether slope, 
 Plunged with a dizzy sweep !
 
 1 64 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 Look, how a horse, made mad with fear, 
 
 Disdains his careful guide ; 
 
 So now the headlong headstrong boat, 
 
 Unmanaged, turns aside, 
 
 And straight presents her reeling flank 
 
 Against the swelling tide ! 
 
 XIX. 
 
 The gusty wind assaults the sail ; 
 Her ballast lies a-lee ! 
 The sheets to windward, taut and stiff 
 Oh ! the Lively — where is she 1 
 Her capsized keel is in the foam, 
 Her pennon 'a in the sea ! 
 
 XX. 
 
 The wild gull, sailing overhead, 
 Three times beheld emerge 
 The head of that bold mariner, 
 And then she scream'd his dirge ! 
 For he had sunk within his grave, 
 Lapp'd in a shroud of surge !
 
 THE SEA-SPELL. 165 
 
 XXI. 
 
 The ensuing wave, with horrid foam, 
 Rush'd o'er and cover'd all, — 
 The jolly boatman's drowning scream 
 Was smother'd by the squall, 
 Heaven never heard his cry, nor did 
 The ocean heed his caul. 
 
 <£&£&&**
 
 1 66 
 
 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 A man 's a man for a' that." 
 
 FAITHLESS NELLY GRAY. 
 
 A PATHETIC P.ALLAD. 
 
 -graiEN BATTLE was a soldier bold, 
 And used to war's alarms : 
 
 But a cannon-ball took off bis legs. 
 So lie laid down his arms !
 
 FAITHLESS NELL Y GRA Y 167 
 
 Now as they bore him off the field, 
 
 Said he, " Let others shoot, 
 For here I leave my second leg, 
 
 And the Forty -second Foot ! " 
 
 The army-surgeons made him limbs : 
 Said he, — " They 're only pegs : 
 
 But there 's as wooden members quite, 
 As represent my legs ! " 
 
 Now Ben he loved a pretty maid, 
 Her name was Nelly Gray ; 
 
 So he went to pay her his devours, 
 When he 'd devour'd his pay ! 
 
 But when he call'd on Nelly Gray, 
 She made him quite a scoff; 
 
 And when she saw his wooden legs, 
 Began to take them off ! 
 
 " 0, Nelly Gray ! O, Nelly Gray ! 
 
 Is this your love so warm 1 
 The love that loves a scarlet coat, 
 
 Should be more uniform ! "
 
 1 68 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 Said she, " I loved a soldier once, 
 For he was blythe and brave ; 
 
 But I will never have a man 
 With both legs in the grave ! 
 
 " Before you had those timber toes, 
 
 Your love I did allow, 
 But then, you know, you stand upon 
 
 Another footing now ! " 
 
 " O, Nelly Gray ! O, Nelly Gray I 
 For all your jeering speeches, 
 
 At duty's call, I left my legs 
 In Badajos's breaches I " 
 
 " Why, then," said she, "you 've lost the feet 
 
 Of legs in war's alarms, 
 And now you cannot wear your shoes 
 
 Upon your feats of arms ! " 
 
 " O, false and fickle Nelly Gray ; 
 
 I know why you refuse : — 
 Though I Ve no feet — some other man 
 
 Is standing in my shoes !
 
 FAITHLESS NELL Y GRA Y. Y 6g 
 
 " I wish I ne'er had seen your face ; 
 But, now, a long farewell ! 
 For you will be my death ;— alas ,' 
 You will not be my Nell ! " 
 
 Now when he went from Nelly Gray, 
 
 His heart so heavy got — 
 And life was such a burthen grown, 
 
 It made him take a knot .' 
 
 So round his melancholy neck 
 A rope he did entwine, 
 
 And, for his second time in life, 
 Enlisted in the Line ! 
 
 One end he tied around a beam, 
 And then removed his pegs, 
 
 And, as his legs were off, — of course, 
 He soon was off his legs ! 
 
 And there he hung, till he was dead 
 
 As any nail in town, — 
 For though distress had cut him up, 
 
 It could not cut him down '
 
 !70 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 A dozen men sat on his corpse, 
 To find out why he died — 
 
 And they buried Ben in four cross-roads, 
 With a stake in his inside I 
 
 r*-^5«»^o
 
 FA NC Y-PORTRAITS. 
 
 171 
 
 The Bard of Hope. 
 
 FANCY-PORTRAITS. 
 
 ANY authors preface their works with a portrait, and 
 it saves the reader a deal of speculation. The world 
 loves to know something of the features of its favourites ; — it 
 likes the Geniuses to appear bodily, as well as the Genii. 
 We may estimate the liveliness of this curiosity, by th<» 
 abundance of portraits, masks, busts, china and plaster casts ; 
 that are extant, of great or would-be great people. As soon 
 as a gentleman has proved, in print, that he really has ?• 
 head, — a score of artists begin to brush at it. The literary
 
 172 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 lions have no peace to their manes. Sir Walter is eternally 
 sitting like Theseus to some painter or other ; — and the late 
 Lord Byron threw out more heads before he died than Hydra. 
 The first novel of Mr Gait had barely been announced in the 
 second edition, when he was requested to allow himself to be 
 taken " in one minute; " — Mr Geoffrey Crayon was no sooner 
 known to be Mr Washington Irving, than he was waited 
 upon with a sheet of paper and a pair of scissors. 
 
 The whole world, in fact, is one Lavater : — it likes to find 
 its prejudices confirmed by the Hooke nose of the Author of 
 ►Sayings and Doings — or the lines and angles in the honest 
 face of Izaak Walton. It is gratified in dwelling on the 
 repulsive features of a Newgate ordinary ; and would be 
 disappointed to miss the seraphic expression on the Author 
 of the Angel of the World. The Old Bailey jurymen are 
 physiognomists to a fault ; and if a rope can transform a 
 malefactor into an Adonis, a hard gallows face as often 
 brings the malefactor to the rope. A low forehead is enough 
 to bring down its head to the dust. A well-favoured man 
 meets with good countenance ; but when people are plain 
 and hard-featured, (like the poor, for instance,) we grind their 
 faces ; an expression, I am convinced, that refers to physiog- 
 nomical theory. 
 
 For my part, T confess a sympathy with the common fail- 
 ing. I take likings and dislikings, as some play music, — at 
 sight. The polar attractions and repulsions insisted on by 
 the phrenologist, affect me not ; but I am not proof against a 
 pleasant or villainous set of features. Sometimes, I own, I
 
 FA NC Y- FOR TRAITS. 
 
 173 
 
 am led by the nose (not my own, but that of the other party) 
 — in my prepossessions. 
 
 My curiosity does not object to the disproportionate num- 
 ber of portraits in the annual exhibition, — nor grudge the 
 expense of engraving a gentleman's head and shoulders. 
 Like Judith, and the daughter of Herodias, I have a taste 
 for a head in a plate, and accede cheerfully to the charge of 
 
 Mr Crabbe. 
 
 the charger. A book without a portrait of the author, is 
 worse than anonymous. As in a churchyard, you may look 
 on any number of ribs and shin-bones, as so many sticks 
 merely, without interest ; but if there should chance to be a 
 skull near hand, it claims the relics at once, — so it is with 
 the author's head-piece in front of his pages. The portrait
 
 174 
 
 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 claims the work. The Arcadia, for instance, I know is none 
 of mine — it belongs to that young fair gentleman, in armour, 
 with a ruff. 
 
 So necessary it is for me to have an outward visible sign 
 of the inward spiritual poet or philosopher, that in default of 
 an authentic resemblance, I cannot help forging for him an 
 effigy in my mind's eye, — a Fancy-Portrait. A few examples 
 of contemporaries I have sketched down, but my collection is 
 far from complete. 
 
 Mr Bowles. 
 
 How have I longed to glimpse, in fancy, the Great Un- 
 known ! — the Roc of Literature ! — but he keeps his head, 
 like Ben Lomond, enveloped in a cloud. How have I sighed 
 for a beau ideal of the author of Christabel, and the Ancient
 
 FANCY-PORTRAITS. 175 
 
 Marinere ! — but I have been mocked with a dozen images, 
 confusing each other, and indistinct as water is in water. 
 My only clear revelation was a pair of Hessian boots highly 
 polished, or what the ingenious Mr Warren would denominate 
 his " Aids to Reflection ! " 
 
 I was more certain of the figure at least of Dr Kitchener, 
 (p. 26,) though I had a misgiving about his features, which 
 made me have recourse to a substitute for his head. Moore's 
 profile struck me over a bottle after dinner, and the counte- 
 
 Tbe Author of Broad Grins. 
 
 nance of Mr Bowles occurred to me, as in a mirror, — by a 
 tea-table suggestion ; Colman's at the same service ; — and 
 Mr Crabbe entered my mind's eye with the supper. But the 
 Bard of Hope — the Laureate of promise and expectation, — 
 occurred to me at no meal-time. We all know how Hope 
 feeds her own-
 
 176 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 I had a lively image of the celebrated Denon, in a midnight 
 dream, (p. 138,) and made out the full length of the juvenile 
 Graham, from a hint of Mr Hilton's. 
 
 At a future season, I hope to complete my gallery of Fancy- 
 Vortraits. 
 
 END OF THE FIRST SERIES. 
 
 Anacreon, Junior.
 
 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 ^et0uh Series. 
 
 "What Demon hath possessed thee, that thou wilt never forsake that impertinent 
 custom of punning ? " 
 
 — SCRIBLKRUS.
 
 N" the absence of better fiddles, I have ventured to 
 come forward again with my little kit of fancies. I 
 trust it will not be found an unworthy sequel to my first per- 
 formance ; indeed, I have done my best, in the New Series, 
 innocently to imitate a practice that prevails abroad in duel- 
 ling — I mean, that of the Seconds giving Satisfaction. 
 
 The kind indulgence that welcomed my Volume heretofore, 
 prevents me from reiterating the same apologies. The Public 
 have learned, by this time, from my rude designs, that I am 
 no great artist, and from my text, that I atn no great author, 
 but humbly equivocating, bat-like, between the two kinds ; — 
 though proud to partake in any characteristic of either. As
 
 i So 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 for the first particular, my hope persuades me that my illus- 
 trations cannot have degenerated, so ably as I have been 
 seconded by Mr Edward Willis, who, like the humane Walter, 
 has befriended my offspring in the Wood. 
 
 In the literary part I have to plead guilty, as usual, to 
 some verbal misdemeanors ; for which, I must leave my defence 
 to Dean Swift, and the other great European and Oriental 
 Pundits. Let me suggest, however, that a pun is somewhat 
 like a cherry : though there may be a slight outward indica- 
 tion of partition — of duplicity of meaning — yet no gentleman 
 need make two bites at it against his own pleasure. To 
 accommodate certain readers, notwithstanding, I have refrained 
 from putting the majority in italics. It is not every one, I 
 am aware, that can Toler-ate a pun like my Lord Norbury.
 
 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 BIANCA'S DREAM. 
 
 A VENETIAN STORY. 
 
 IANCA ! — fair Bianca ! — who could dwell 
 With safety on her dark and hazel gaze, 
 Nor find there lurk'd in it a witching spell, 
 Fatal to balmy nights and blessed days'? 
 The peaceful breath that made the bosom swell, 
 
 She turn'd to gas, and set it in a blaze ; 
 Each eye of hers had Love's Eupyrion in it, 
 That he could light his link at in a minute. 
 
 II. 
 
 So that, wherever in lier charms she shone, 
 A thousand breasts were kindled into flame ; 
 
 Maidens who cursed her looks forgot their own, 
 
 And beaux were turn'd to flambeaux where she came ; 
 
 All hearts indeed were conquer'd but her own, 
 Which none could ever temper down or tame : 
 
 In short, to take our haberdasher's hints, 
 
 She might have written over it, — " from Flints." 
 
 M
 
 1 82 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 III. 
 
 She was, in truth, the wonder of her sex, 
 
 At least in Venice — where with eyes of brown, 
 
 Tenderly languid, ladies seldom vex 
 
 An amorous gentle with a needless frown ; 
 
 Where gondolas convey guitars by pecks, 
 
 And Love at casements climbeth up and down, 
 
 Whom for his tricks and custom in that kind, 
 
 Some have considered a Venetian blind. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Howbeit, this difference was quickly taught, 
 Amongst more youths who had this cruel jailor, 
 
 To hapless Julio — all in vain he sought 
 
 With each new moon his hatter and his tailor ; 
 
 In vain the richest padusoy he bought, 
 
 And went in bran new beaver to assail her — 
 
 As if to show that Love had made him smart 
 
 All over — and not merely round his heart. 
 
 v. 
 
 In vain he labour'd thro' the sylvan park 
 Bianca haunted in — that where she came, 
 
 Her learned eyes in wandering might mark 
 The twisted cipher of her maiden name, 
 
 Wholesomely going thro' a course of bark : 
 No one was touch'd or troubled by his flame, 
 
 Except the Dryads, those old maids that grow 
 
 In trees, — like wooden dolls in embryo. 
 
 VI. 
 
 In vain complaining elegies he writ, 
 
 And taught his tuneful instrument to grieve, 
 
 And sang in quavers how his heart was split, 
 Constant beneath her lattice with each eve ;
 
 BIANCA 'S DREAM. 1S3 
 
 She mock'd his wooing with her wicked wit, 
 
 And slash'd his suit so that it match'd his sleeve, 
 Till he grew silent at the vesper star, 
 And quite despairing, hamstring'd his guitar. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Bianca's heart was coldly frosted o'er 
 
 With snows unmelting — an eternal sheet ; 
 
 But his was red within him, like the core 
 Of old Vesuvius, with perpetual heat ; 
 
 And oft he long'd internally to pour 
 
 His flames and glowing lava at her feet ; 
 
 But when his burnings he began to spout, 
 
 She stopp'd his mouth, and put the crater out. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Meanwhile he wasted in the eyes of men, 
 So thin, he seem'd a sort of skeleton-key 
 
 Suspended at Death's door — so pale — and then 
 He turn'd as nervous as an aspen tree ; 
 
 The life of man is threescore years and ten, 
 But he was perishing at twenty-three, 
 
 For people truly said, as grief grew stronger, 
 
 " It could not shorten his poor life — much longer." 
 
 IX. 
 
 for why, he neither slept, nor drank, nor fed, 
 Nor relish'd any kind of mirth below ; 
 
 Fire in his heart, and frenzy in his head, 
 Love had become his universal foe, 
 
 Salt in his sugar — nightmare in his bed. 
 At last, no wonder wretched Julio, 
 
 A sorrow-ridden thing, in utter dearth 
 
 Of hope— made up his mind to cut her girth !
 
 1S4 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 For hapless lovers always died of old, 
 Sooner than chew reflection's bitter cud ; 
 
 So Thisbe stuck herself, what time 'tis told 
 The tender-hearted mulberries wept blood ; 
 
 And so poor Sappho, when her boy was cold, 
 Drown'd her salt tear-drops in a salter flood, 
 
 Their fame still breathing, tho' their breath be past, 
 
 For those old suitors lived beyond their last. 
 
 XI. 
 
 So Julio went to drown, — when life was dull, 
 But took his corks, and merely had a bath ; 
 
 And once, he pull'd a trigger at his skull, 
 But merely broke a window in his wrath ; 
 
 And once, his hopeless being to annul, 
 He tied a pack-thread to a beam of lath, 
 
 A line so ample, 'twas a query whether 
 
 'Twas meant to be a halter or a tether. 
 
 XII. 
 
 Smile not in scorn, that Julio did not thrust 
 His sorrows thro' — 'tis horrible to die ! 
 
 And come down with our little all of dust, 
 That dun of all the duns to satisfy : 
 
 To leave life's pleasant city as we must, 
 
 In Death's most dreary spunging-house to lie, 
 
 Where even all our personals must go 
 
 To pay the debt of Nature that we owe ! 
 
 xnr. 
 
 So Julio lived : — 'twas nothing but a pet 
 He took at life — a momentary spite ; 
 
 Besides, he hoped that time would some day get 
 The better of love's flame, however bright ;
 
 B1ANCA 'S DREAM. i 'is 
 
 A thing that time has never compass'd yet, 
 For love, we know, is an immortal light ; 
 Like that old fire, that, quite beyond a doubt, 
 Was always in, — for none have found it out. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 Meanwhile, Bianca dream'd — 'twas once when Night 
 Along the darken'd plain began to creep, 
 
 Like a young Hottentot, whose eyes are bright, 
 Altho' in skin as sooty as a sweep : 
 
 The flow'rs had shut their eyes — the zephyr light 
 Was gone, for it had rock d the leaves to sleep ; 
 
 And all the little birds had laid their heads 
 
 Under their wings — sleeping in feather beds. 
 
 xv. 
 
 Lone in her chamber sate the dark-eyed maid, 
 By easy stages jaunting thro' her prayers, 
 
 But list'ning sidelong to a serenade, 
 
 Tli at robb'd the saints a little of their shares : 
 
 For Julio underneath the lattice play'd 
 His Deh Vieni, and such amorous airs, 
 
 Born only underneath Italian skies, 
 
 Where every fiddle has a Bridge of Sighs. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 Sweet was the tune — the words were even sweeter- 
 Praising her eyes, her lips, her nose, her hair, 
 
 With all the common tropes wherewith in metre 
 The hackney poets overcharge their fair. 
 
 Her shape was like Diana's, but completer ; 
 
 Her brow with Grecian Helen's might compare : 
 
 Cnpid, alas ! was cruel Sagittarius, 
 
 Julio — the weeping water-man Aquarius.
 
 1 86 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 Now, after listing to such landings rare, 
 
 'Twas very natural indeed to go — 
 What if she did postpone one little prayer — ■ 
 
 To ask her mirror, " if it was not so 1 " 
 'Twas a large mirror, none the worse for wear, 
 
 Reflecting her at once from top to toe : 
 And there she gazed upon that glossy track, 
 That show'd her front face tho' it " gave her back." 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 And long her lovely eyes were held in thrall, 
 
 ' By that dear page where first the woman reads : 
 
 That Julio was no flatt'rer, none at all, 
 
 She told herself — and then she told her beads ; 
 Meanwhile, the nerves insensibly let fall 
 
 Two curtains fairer than the lily breeds ; 
 For Sleep had crept and kiss'd her unawares, 
 Just at the half-way milestone of her prayers. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 Then like a drooping rose so bended she, 
 
 Till her bow'd head upon her hand reposed ; 
 
 But still she plainly saw, or seem'd to see, 
 That fair reflection, tho' her eyes were closed, 
 
 A beauty bright as it was wont to be, 
 
 A portrait Fancy painted while she dozed : 
 
 'Tis very natural, some people say, 
 
 To dream of what we dwell on in the day. 
 
 XX. 
 
 Still shone her face — yet not, alas ! the same, 
 But 'gan some dreary touches to assume, 
 
 And sadder thoughts, with sadder changes came — 
 Her eyes resign'd their light, her lips their bloom,
 
 BIAiVCA 'S DREAM. 187 
 
 Her teeth fell out, her tresses did the same, 
 
 Her cheeks were tinged with bile, her eyes with rheum : 
 There was a throbbing at her heart within, 
 For, oh ! there was a shooting in her chin. 
 
 xxr. 
 
 And lo ! upon her sad desponding brow, 
 
 The cruel trenches of besieging age, 
 With seams, but most unseemly, 'gan to show 
 
 Her place was booking for the seventh stage ; 
 And where her raven tresses used to flow, 
 
 Some locks that Time had left her in his rage, 
 And some mock ringlets, made her forehead shady, 
 A compound (like our Psalms) of tete and braidy. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 Then fo&her shape — alas ! how Saturn wrecks, 
 And bends, and corkscrews all the frame about, 
 
 Doubles the hams, and crooks the straightest necks, 
 Draws in the nape, and pushes forth the snout, 
 
 Makes backs and stomachs concave or convex ; 
 Witness those pensioners call'd In and Out, 
 
 Who all day watching first and second rater, 
 
 Quaintly unbend themselves — but grow no straighten 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 So Time with fair Bianca dealt, and made 
 
 Her shape a bow, that once was like an arrow; 
 
 His iron hand upon her spine he laid, 
 
 And twisted all awry her "winsome marrow." 
 
 In truth it was a change ! — she had obey'd 
 The holy Pope before her chest grew narrow, 
 
 But spectacles and palsy seem'd to make her 
 
 Something between a Glassite and a Quaker.
 
 1 88 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 Her grief and gall meanwhile were qnite extreme, 
 And she had ample reason for her trouble ; 
 
 For what sad maiden can endure to seem 
 Set in for singleness, tho' growing double. 
 
 The fancy madden'd her ; but now the dream, 
 Grown thin by getting bigger, like a bubble, 
 
 Burst, — but still left some fragments of its size, 
 
 That, like the soapsuds, smarted in her eyes. 
 
 xxv. 
 
 And here — just here — as she began to heed 
 
 The real world, her clock chimed out its score ; 
 
 A clock it was of the Venetian breed, 
 
 That cried the hour from one to twenty-four ; 
 
 The works moreover standing in some need 
 Of workmanship, it struck some dozens more ; 
 
 A warning voice that clench'd Bianca's fears, 
 
 Such strokes referring doubtless to her years. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 At fifteen chimes she was but half a nun, 
 
 By twenty she had quite renounced the veil ; 
 
 She thought of Julio just at twenty-one, 
 And thirty made her very sad and pale, 
 
 To paint that ruin where her charms would run ; 
 At forty all the maid began to fail, 
 
 And thought no higher, as the late dream cross'd her, 
 
 Of single blessedness, than single Gloster. 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 And so Bianca changed ; — the next sweet even, 
 With Julio in a black Venetian bark, 
 
 Row'd slow and stealthily — the hour, eleven, 
 Just sounding from the tower of old St Mark.
 
 BIA NCA 'S DREA M. 1 89 
 
 She sate with eyes turn'd quietly to heav'n, 
 
 Perchance rejoicing in the grateful dark 
 That veil'd her blushing cheek, — for Julio brought her, 
 Of course — to break the ice upon the water. 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 But what a puzzle is one's serious mind 
 To open ; — oysters, when the ice is thick, 
 
 Are not so difficult and disinclined ; 
 And Julio felt the declaration stick 
 
 About his throat in a most awful kind ; 
 However, he contrived by bits to pick 
 
 His trouble forth, — much like a rotten cork 
 
 Groped from a long-neck'd bottle with a fork. 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 But love is still the quickest of all readers ; 
 
 And Julio spent besides those signs profuse 
 That English telegraphs and foreign pleaders, 
 
 In help of language, are so apt to use, 
 Arms, shoulders, fingers, all were interceders, 
 
 Nods, shrugs, and bends,- — Bianca could not choose 
 But soften to his suit with more facility, 
 He told his story with so much agility. 
 
 XXX. 
 
 " Be thou my park, and I will be thy dear, 
 (So he began at last to speak or quote ;) 
 
 Be thou my bark, and I thy gondolier, 
 (For passion takes this figurative note ;) 
 
 Be thou my light, and I thy chandelier ; 
 Be thou my dove, and I will be thy cote : 
 
 My lily be, and I will be thy river ; 
 
 Be thou my life — and I will be thy liver."
 
 190 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 This, with more tender logic of the kind, 
 He pour'd into her small and shell-like ear, 
 
 That timidly against his lips inclined ; 
 
 Meanwhile her eyes glanced on the silver sphere 
 
 That even now began to steal behind 
 
 A dewy vapour, which was lingering near, 
 
 "Wherein the dull moon crept all dim and pule, 
 
 Just like a virgin putting on the veil : 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 Bidding adieu to all her sparks — the stars, 
 
 That erst had woo'd and worshipp'd in her train, 
 
 Saturn and Hesperus, and gallant Mars — 
 Never to flirt with heavenly eyes again. 
 
 Meanwhile, remindful of the convent bars, 
 Bianca did not watch these signs in vain, 
 
 But turn'd to Julio at the dark eclipse, 
 
 "With words, like verbal kisses, on her lips. 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 He took the hint full speedily, and, back'd 
 
 By love, and night, and the occasion's mcetness, 
 
 Bestow'd a something on her cheek that sinack'd 
 (Tho' quite in silence) of ambrosial sweetness, 
 
 That made her think all other kisses lack'd 
 
 Till then, but what she knew not, of completeness 
 
 Being used but sisterly salutes to feel, 
 
 Insipid things — like sandwiches of veal. 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 He took her hand, and soon she felt him wring 
 The pretty fingers all instead of one ; 
 
 Anon his stealthy arm began to cling 
 
 About her waist that had been clasp'd by none ;
 
 BIANCA % S DREAM. 
 
 Their dear confessions I forbear to sino-. 
 
 Since cold description would but be outrun 
 For bliss and Irish watches have the pow'r, 
 
 In twenty minutes, to lose half an hour ! 
 
 191 
 
 In and-out Pensioners,
 
 192 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 A BALLAD SINGER 
 
 S a town-crier for the advertising of lost tunes. Hunger 
 hath made him a wind instrument: his want is vocal, 
 and not he. His voice had gone a-begging before he 
 took it up and applied it to the same trade ; it was too strong 
 to hawk mackerel, but was just soft enough for Robin Adair. 
 His business is to make popular songs unpopular, — he gives 
 the air, like a weathercock, with many variations. As for a 
 key, he has but one — a latch-key — for all manner of tunes ; 
 and as they are to pass current amongst the lower sorts of 
 people, he makes his notes like a country banker's, as thick 
 as he can. His tones have a copper sound, for he sounds for 
 copper ; and for the musical divisions he hath no regard, but 
 sings on, like a kettle, without taking any heed of the bars. 
 Before beginning he clears his pipe with gin • and he is always 
 hoarse from the thorough draft in his throat. He hath but 
 one shake, and that is in winter. His voice sounds flat, from 
 flatulence ; and he fetches breath, like a drowning kitten, 
 whenever he can. Notwithstanding all this his music gains 
 ground, for it walks with him from end to end of the street. 
 
 He is your only performer that requires not many entreaties 
 for a song; for he will chaunt, without asking, to a street cur 
 or a parish post. His only backwardness is to a stave after 
 dinner, seeing that he never dines ; for he sings for bread, 
 and though corn has ears, sings very commonly in vain. 
 As for his country, he is an Englishman, that by his birth- 
 right may sing whether he can or not. To conclude, he is 
 reckoned passable in the city, but is not so good off the 
 stones.
 
 MAKY'S GHOST. 
 
 *93 
 
 " Uin a body meet a body." 
 
 MARY'S GHOST. 
 
 A PATHETIC BALLAD. 
 
 WAS iii the middle of the night, 
 To sleep young William tried, 
 When Mary's ghost came stealing in, 
 And stood at his bed-side.
 
 194 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 II. 
 
 William dear ! O William dear ! 
 My rest eternal ceases ; 
 
 Alas ! my everlasting peace 
 Is broken into pieces. 
 
 III. 
 
 1 thought the last of all my cares 
 
 Would end with my last minute ; 
 But tho' I went to my long home, 
 I didn't stay long in it. 
 
 IV. 
 
 The body-snatchers they have come, 
 And made a snatch at me ; 
 
 It 's very hard them kind of men 
 Won't let a body be ! 
 
 v. 
 
 You thought that I was buried deep, 
 Quite decent like and chary, 
 
 But from her grave in Mary-bone 
 They 've come and boned your Mary. 
 
 VI. 
 
 The arm that used to take your arm 
 
 Is took to Dr Vyse ; 
 And both my legs are gone to walk 
 
 The hospital at Guy's. 
 
 VII. 
 
 I vow'd that you should have my hand, 
 But fate gives us denial ; 
 
 You '11 find it there, at Doctor Bell's, 
 In spirits and a phial.
 
 MARY'S GHOST. 195 
 
 VIII. 
 
 As for my feet, the little feet 
 You used to call so pretty, 
 
 There 's one, I know, in Bedford Row, 
 The t'other 's in the city. 
 
 IX. 
 
 I can't tell where my head is gone, 
 
 But Doctor Carpue can : 
 As for my trunk, it 's all pack'd up 
 
 To go by-Pickford's van. 
 
 x. 
 
 I wish you 'd go to Mr P. 
 
 And save me such a ride ; 
 I don't half like the outside place, 
 
 They 've took for my inside. 
 
 XI. 
 
 The cock it crows — I must be gone ! 
 
 My William, we must part ! 
 But I'll be yours in death, altho' 
 
 Sir Astley has my heart. 
 
 XII. 
 
 Don't go to weep upon my grave, 
 And think that there I be ; 
 
 They haven't left an atom there 
 Of my anatomie.
 
 ig6 
 
 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 Infant Genius. 
 
 THE PROGRESS OF ART. 
 
 HAPPY time ! Art's early days ! 
 When o'er eacli deed, with sweet self-praise, 
 Narcissus-like I hung ! 
 When great Rembrandt but little seem'd, 
 And such Old Masters all were deem'd 
 As nothing to the young ! 
 
 II. 
 
 Some scratchy strokes — abrupt and few, 
 So easily and swift I drew, 
 Sufficed for my design ;
 
 THE PROGRESS OF ART. 197 
 
 My sketchy, superficial hand 
 Drew solids at a dash — and spann'd 
 A surface with a line. 
 
 in. 
 Not long my eye was thus content, 
 But grew more critical — my bent 
 
 Essay'd a higher walk ; 
 I copied leaden eyes in lead — 
 Rheumatic hands in white and red, 
 
 And gouty feet — in chalk. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Anon my studious art for days 
 Kept making faces — happy phrase, 
 
 For faces such as mine ! 
 Accomplish'd in the details then, 
 I left the minor parts of men, 
 
 And drew the form divine. 
 
 v. 
 
 Old Gods and Heroes — Trojan — Greek, 
 Figures — long after the antique, 
 
 Great Ajax justly fear'd ; 
 Hectors, of whom at night I dreamt, 
 And Nestor, fringed enough to tempt 
 
 Bird-nesters to his beard. 
 
 VI. 
 
 A Bacchus, leering on a bowl, 
 A Pallas, that out-stared her owl, 
 
 A Vulcan — very lame ; 
 A Dian stuck about with stars, 
 With my right hand I murder'd Mars — 
 
 (One Williams did the same.) 
 
 VII. 
 
 But tired of this dry work at last, 
 Crayon and chalk aside I cast, 
 And gave my brush a drink ! 
 
 N
 
 *$S WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 Dipping — " as when a painter dips 
 In gloom of earthquake and eclipse," — 
 That is — in Indian ink. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Oh then, what black Mont Blancs arose, 
 Crested with soot, and not with snows : 
 
 "What clouds of dingy hue ! 
 In spite of what the bard has penn'd, 
 I fear the distance did not " lend 
 
 Enchantment to the view." 
 
 IX. 
 
 Not Radclyffe's brush did e'er design 
 Black Forests half so black as mine, 
 
 Or lakes so like a pall ; 
 The Chinese cake dispersed a ray 
 Of darkness, like the light of Day 
 
 And Martin over all. 
 
 x. 
 
 Yet urchin pride sustain'd me still, 
 I gazed on all with right good will, 
 
 And spread the dingy tint ; 
 " No holy Luke help'd me to paint ; 
 The devil surely, not a Saint, 
 
 Had any finger in 't ! " 
 
 XI. 
 
 But colours came ! — like morning light, 
 With gorgeous hues displacing night, 
 
 Or Spring's enliven'd scene : 
 At once the sable shades withdrew ; 
 My skies got very, very blue ; 
 
 My trees extremely green.
 
 THE PROGRESS OF ART. 199 
 
 XII. 
 
 And wash'd by my cosmetic brush, 
 How Beauty's cheek began to blush ; 
 
 With lock of auburn stain — 
 (Not Goldsmith's Auburn)— nut-brown hair, 
 That made her loveliest of the fair ; 
 
 Not " loveliest of the plain ! " 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Her lips were of vermilion hue ; 
 Love in her eyes, and Prussian blue, 
 
 Set all my heart in flame ! 
 A young Pygmalion, I adored 
 The maids I made— but time was stored 
 
 "With evil — and it came ! 
 
 XIV. 
 
 Perspective dawn'd— and soon I saw 
 My houses stand against its law ; 
 
 And " keeping" all unkept ! 
 My beauties were no longer things 
 For love and fond imaginings ; 
 
 But horrors to be wept ! 
 
 XV. 
 
 Ah ! why did knowledge ope my eyes 1 
 Why did I get more artist- wise t 
 
 It only serves to hint, 
 What grave defects and wants are mine ; 
 That I 'm no Hilton in design — 
 
 In nature no Dewint ! 
 
 XVI. 
 
 Thrice happy time ! — Art's early days ! 
 When o'er each deed, with sweet self-praise. 
 
 Narcissus-like I hung ! 
 When great Rembrandt but little seem'd, 
 And such Old Masters all were deem'd 
 
 As nothing to the young !
 
 200 
 
 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 " Better late than never.' 
 
 A SCHOOL FOR ADULTS. 
 
 Servant. How well you saw 
 
 Your father to school to-day, knowing how apt 
 
 He is to play the truant. 
 Son. But is he not 
 
 Yet gone to school ? 
 Servant. Stand by, and you shall see. 
 
 Enter three Old Men with satchels singing. 
 
 All Three. Domine, Domine, duster, 
 
 Three knaves in a cluster. 
 Son. O this is gallant pastime. Nay, come on ; 
 
 Is this your school ? was that your lesson, ha? 
 ist Old Man. Pray, now, good son, indeed) indeed —
 
 A SCHOOL FOR ADULTS. 
 
 20I 
 
 Son. Indeed 
 
 You shall to school. Away with him ! and take 
 Their wagships with him, the whole cluster of them. 
 
 id Old Man. You shan't send us, now, so you shan't. 
 
 3d Old Jl fan. We be none of your father, so we ben't. 
 
 Son. Away with 'em, I say ; and tell their schoolmistress 
 
 What truants they are, and bid her pay 'em soundly. 
 
 All Three. Oh! oh! oh ! 
 
 Lady. Alas ! will nobody beg pardon for 
 
 The poor o'd boys ? 
 
 Traveller. Do men of such fair years here go to school ? 
 
 Native. They would die dunces else. 
 
 These were great scholars in their youth ; but when 
 Age grows upon men here, their learning wastes, 
 And so decays, that, if they live until 
 Threescore, their sons send 'em to school again ; 
 They'd die as speechless else as new-born children. 
 
 Trazieller. 'Tis a wise nation, and the piety 
 
 Of the young men most rare and commendable : 
 Yet give me, as a stranger, leave to beg 
 Their liberty this day. 
 
 Son. 'Tis granted. 
 
 Hold up your heads ; and thank the gentleman, 
 Like scholars, with your heels now. 
 
 All Three. Gratis! Gratis! Gratis! \ Exeunt Singing.] 
 
 " The Antipodes," — By R. Bronte. 
 
 MONGST the foundations for the promotion of National 
 Education, I had heard of Schools for Adults ; but I 
 doubted of their existence. They were, I thought, 
 merely the fancies of old dramatists, such as that scene just 
 quoted; or the suggestions of philanthropists — the theoretical 
 buildings of modern philosophers — benevolent prospectuses 
 drawn up by warm-hearted enthusiasts, but of schemes never 
 to be realised. They were probably only the bubble projec- 
 tions of a junto of interested pedagogues, not content with 
 the entrance monies of the rising generation, but aiming to 
 exact a premium from the unlettered graybeard. The age, 
 I argued, was not ripe for such institutions, in spite of the 
 spread of intelligence, and the vast power of knowledge 
 insisted on by the public journalist. I could not conceive a 
 set of men, or gentlemen, of mature years, if not aged, enter- 
 ing themselves as members of preparatory schools, and petty 
 seminaries, in defiance of shame, humiliation, and the con- 
 tumely of a literary age. It seemed too whimsical to contem-
 
 202 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 plate fathers, and venerable grandfathers, emulating the infant 
 generation, and seeking for instruction in the rudiments. My 
 imagination refused to picture the hoary abecedarian, 
 
 " With satchel on his back, and shining morning face, 
 Creeping, like snail, unwillingly to school." 
 
 Fancy grew restive at a patriarchal ignoramus with a fool's- 
 cap, and a rod thrust down his bosom ; at a palsied truant 
 dodging the palmy inflictions of the cane ; or a silver-headed 
 dunce horsed on a pair of rheumatic shoulders for a paralytic 
 flagellation. The picture notwithstanding is realised ! Elderly 
 people seem to have considered that they will be as awkwardly 
 situated in the other world, as here, without their alphabet, 
 — and Schools for Grown Persons to learn to read, are no 
 more Utopian than New Harmony. The following letter 
 from an old gentleman, whose education had been neglected, 
 confirms me in the fact. It is copied, verbatim and literatim, 
 from the original, which fell into my hands by accident. 
 
 Black Heath, November, 1827. 
 
 Deer Brother, 
 
 My honnerd Parents being Both desist I 
 feal my cleuty to give you Sum Acount of the Proggress I 
 have maid in my studdys since last Vocation. You will be 
 gratefied to hear I am at the Hed of my Class and Tom Hodges 
 is at its Bottom, tho He was Seventy last Burth Day and I 
 am onely going on for Three Skore. I have begun Gografy 
 and do exsizes on the Glohs. In Aggers I am all most out 
 the fore Simples and going into Compounds next weak. In 
 the mean time hop you will aprove my Hand riting as well 
 as my Speling witch I have took grate panes with as you 
 desird. As for the French Tung Mr Legender says I shall 
 soon get the pronounciation as well as a Paiishiner but the 
 Master thinks its not advisiblc to begin Lattin at my advanced 
 ears. 
 
 With rcspecks to my Pearsonal comfits I am verry happy and 
 midling Well xcept the old Cumplant in my To— but the 
 Master is so kind as to let me have a Cushin for my feat. If
 
 A SCHOOL FOR ADULTS. 203 
 
 their is any thing to cumplane of its the Vittles. Our Cook 
 dont understand Maid dishes. Her Currys is xcrabble. Tom 
 Hodges Foot Man brings him Evry Day soop from Birches. 
 I wish you providid me the same. On the hole I wish on 
 menny Acounts I was a Day border partickly as Barlow sleeps 
 in our Room and coffs all nite long. His brother's Ashmy is 
 wus then his. He has took lately to snuff and I have wishes 
 to do the like. Its very dull after Supper since Mr Grierson 
 took away the fellers Pips, and forbid smocking, and allmost 
 raized a Riot on that hed, and some of the Boys was to have 
 Been horst for it. I am happy (to) say I have never been 
 floged as yet and onely Caind once and that was for damming 
 at the Cooks chops becous they was so overdim, but there was 
 to have been fore Wiped yeaster day for Playing Wist in skool 
 hours, but was Begd off on acount of their Lumbargo. 
 
 I am sorry to say Ponder has had another Stroak of the 
 perrylaticks and has no Use of his Lims. He is Parrs fag — 
 and Parr has got the Roomytix bysides very bad but luckly 
 its onely stiffind one Arm so he has still Hops to get the Star 
 for Heliocution. Poor Dick Combs eye site has quite gone 
 or he would have a good chance for the Silvur Pen. 
 
 Mundy was one of the Fellers Buiths Days and we was to 
 have a hole Holiday but he dyed sudnly over nite of the 
 appoplxy and disappinted us verry much. Two moor was 
 fetcht home last Weak so that we are getting very thin partickly 
 when we go out Wauking, witch is seldom more than three 
 at a time, their is allways so menny in the nursry. I forgot 
 to say Garrat ran off a month ago he got verry Homesick ever 
 since his Granchilderen cum to sea him at skool, — Mr Grier- 
 son has expeld him for running away. 
 
 On Tuesday a new Schollard cum. He is a very old crusty 
 Chap and not much lick'd for that resin by the rest of the 
 Boys, whom all Teas him, and call him Phig because he is a 
 retired Grosser. Mr Grierson declind another New Boy be- 
 cause he hadnt had the Mizzles. I have red Gays Febbles and 
 the other books You were so kind to send me — and would be 
 glad of moor partickly the Gentlemans with a Welsh Whig
 
 204 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 and a Worming Pan when you foreward my Closebox with 
 my clean Lining like wise sum moor Fleasy Hoshery for my 
 legs and the Cardmums I rit for with the French Grammer 
 &c. Also weather I am to Dance next quarter. The Gim- 
 nystacks is being interdeuced into our Skool but is so 
 Voilent no one follows them but Old Parr and He cant get 
 up his Pole. 
 
 I have no more to rite but hop this letter will find you as 
 Well as me ; Mr Grierson is in Morning for Mr Linly Murry 
 of whose loss you have herd of — xcept which he is in Quite 
 good Helth and desires his Respective Complements with 
 witch I remane 
 
 Your dutiful and 
 
 loving Brother 
 
 ■**■** ■*•*•** 
 
 S.P. Barlow and Phigg have just had a fite in the Yard 
 about calling names and Phigg has pegged Barlows tooth out 
 But it was loose before. Mr G. dont allow Puglism, if he 
 nose it among the Boys, as at their Times of lifes it might be 
 fatle partickly from puling their Coats of in the open Are. 
 
 Our new Husher his cum and is verry well Red in his 
 Mother's tung, witch is the mane thing with Beginers but We wish 
 the Frentch Master was changed on Acount of his Pollyticks 
 and Religun. Brassbrige and him is always Squabling .about 
 Bonnyparty and the Pop of Room. Has for Barlow we cant 
 tell weather He is Wig or Tory for he cant express his Senty- 
 mints for Coffing. 
 
 '^c^&As^^csyo^^^-^
 
 A LEGEND OF NA VARRE. 
 
 205 
 
 The Spare Bed. 
 
 A LEGEND OF NAVARRE. 
 
 WAS in the reign of Lewis, call'd the Great, 
 As one may read on his triumphal arches, 
 The thing befel I 'm going to relate, 
 In course of one of those " pomposo " marches 
 He loved to make, like any gorgeous Persian, 
 Partly for war, and partly for diversion.
 
 206 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 II. 
 
 Some wag had put it in the royal brain 
 
 To drop a visit at an old chateau, 
 Quite unexpected, with his courtly train ; 
 
 The monarch liked it, — but it happened so, 
 That Death had got before them by a post, 
 And they were " reckoning without their host," 
 
 III. 
 
 Who died exactly as a child should die, 
 Without one groan or a convulsive breath, 
 
 Closing without one pang his quiet eye, 
 Sliding composedly from sleep — to death ; 
 
 A corpse so placid ne'er adorn'd a bed, 
 
 He seem'd not quite — but only rather dead. 
 
 IV. 
 
 All night the widow'd Baroness contrived 
 To shed a widow's tears ; but on the morrow 
 
 Some news of such unusual sort arrived, 
 
 There came strange alteration in her sorrow ; 
 
 From mouth to mouth it pass'd, one common humming 
 
 Throughout the house — the King ! the King is coming ! 
 
 The Baroness, with all her soul and heart, 
 A loyal woman, (now c iled ultra-royal,) 
 
 Soon thrust all funeral concerns apart, 
 
 And only thought about a banquet-royal ; 
 
 In short, by aid of earnest preparation, 
 
 The visit quite dismiss'd the visitation. 
 
 VI. 
 
 And, spite of all her grief for the ex-mate, 
 
 There was a secret hope she could not smother,
 
 A LEGEND OF NAVARRE. 207 
 
 That some one, early, might replace " the late " — 
 
 It was too soon to think about another; 
 Yet let her minutes of despair be reckon'd 
 Against her hope, which was but for a second. 
 
 VII. 
 
 She almost thought that being thus bereft 
 
 Just then, was one of Time's propitious touches ; 
 
 A thread in such a nick so nick'd, it left 
 Free opportunity to be a duchess : 
 
 Thus all her care was only to look pleasant, 
 
 But as for tears — she dropp'd them — for the present. 
 
 VITI. 
 
 Her household, as good servants ought to try, 
 Look'd like their lady — anything but sad, 
 
 And giggled even that they might not cry, 
 To damp fine company ; in truth they had 
 
 No time to mourn, thro' choking turkeys' throttles, 
 
 Scouring old laces, and reviewing bottles. 
 
 IX. 
 
 Oh what a hubbub for the house of woe ! 
 
 All, resolute to one irresolution, 
 Kept tearing, swearing, plunging to and fro, 
 
 .Just like another French mob-revolution. 
 There lay the corpse that could not stir a muscle, 
 But all the rest seem'd Chaos in a bustle. 
 
 x. 
 
 The Monarch came : oh ! who could ever guess 
 The Baroness had been so late a weeper ! 
 
 The kingly grace and more than graciousness, 
 Buried the poor defunct some fathoms deeper,— 
 
 Could he have had a glance — alas, poor being ! 
 
 Seeing would certainly have led to D — ing.
 
 2o3 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 XI. 
 
 For casting round about her eyes to find 
 Some one to whom her chattels to endorse, 
 
 The comfortable dame at last inclined 
 
 To choose the cheerful Master of the Horse ; 
 
 He was so gay, — so tender, — the complete 
 
 Nice man, — the sweetest of the monarch's suite. 
 
 XII. 
 
 He saw at once and enter'd in the lists — 
 Glance unto glance made amorous replies ; 
 
 They talk'd together like two egotists, 
 In conversation all made up of eyes : 
 
 No couple ever got so right consort-ish 
 
 Within two hours — a courtship rather shortish. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 At last, some sleepy, some by wine opprest, 
 The courtly company began " nid noddin ; " 
 
 The King first sought his chamber, and the rest 
 Instanter followed by the course he trod in. 
 
 I shall not please the scandalous by showing 
 
 The order, or disorder of their going. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 The old chateau, before that night, had never 
 Held half so many underneath its roof ; 
 
 It task'd the Baroness's best endeavour, 
 And put her best contrivance to the proof, 
 
 To give them chambers up and down the stairs, 
 
 In twos and threes, by singles, and by pairs. 
 
 XV. 
 
 She had just lodging for the whole — yet barely ; 
 And some, that were both broad of back and tall,
 
 A LEGEND OF NAVARRE. 209 
 
 Lay on spare beds that served them very sparely ; 
 
 However, there were beds enough for all ; 
 But living bodies occupied so many, 
 She could not let the dead one take up any ! 
 
 XVI. 
 
 The act was, certainly, not over decent : 
 
 Some small respect, e'en after death, she owed him, 
 Considering his death had been so recent ; 
 
 However, by command, her servants stow'd him, 
 (I am ashamed to think how he was slubber'd,) 
 Stuck bolt upright within a corner cupboard ! 
 
 XVII. 
 
 And there he slept as soundly as a post, 
 With no more pillow than an oaken shelf : 
 
 Just like a kind accommodating host, 
 Taking all inconvenience on himself; 
 
 None else slept in that room, except a stranger, 
 
 A decent man, a sort of Forest Ranger : 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 Who, whether he had gone too soon to bed, 
 
 Or dreamt himself into an appetite, 
 Howbeit, he took a longing to be fed, 
 
 About the hungry middle of the night ; 
 So getting forth, he sought some scrap to eat, 
 Hopeful of some stray pasty, or cold meat. 
 
 xix. 
 The casual glances of the midnight moon, 
 
 Bright'ning some antique ornaments of brass, 
 Guided his gropings to that corner soon, 
 
 Just where it stood, the coffin-safe, alas ! 
 He tried the door — then shook it — and in course 
 Of time it open'd to a little force,
 
 2lo WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 XX. 
 
 He put one hand in, and began to grope ; 
 
 The place was very deep and quite as dark as 
 The middle night ; — when lo ! beyond his hope, 
 
 He felt a something cold, in fact, the carcase ; 
 Right overjoy'd, he laugh'd, and blest his luck 
 At finding, as he thought, this haunch of buck ! 
 
 XXI. 
 
 Then striding back for his couteau-de-chasse, 
 Determined on a little midnight lunching, 
 
 He came again and probed about the mass, 
 As if to find the fattest bit for munching ; 
 
 Not meaning wastefully to cut it all up, 
 
 But only to abstract a little collop. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 But just as he had struck one greedy stroke, 
 His hand fell down quite powerless and weak ; 
 
 For when he cut the haunch it plainly spoke 
 As haunch of ven'son never ought to speak ; 
 
 No wonder that his hand could go no further — 
 
 Whose could 1 — to carve cold meat that bellow'd, 
 " Murther ! " 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 Down came the body with a bounce, and down 
 The Ranger sprang^ a staircase at a spring, 
 
 And bawl'd enough to waken up a town ; 
 
 Some thought that they were murder'd, some, the King; 
 
 And, like Macduff, did nothing for a season, 
 
 But stand upon the spot and bellow, " Treason ! " 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 A hundred nightcaps gather'd in a mob, 
 
 Torches drew torches, swords brought swords together,
 
 A LEGEND OF NAVARRE. 211 
 
 It seem'd so dark and perilous a job ; 
 
 The Baroness came trembling like a feather 
 Just in the rear, as pallid as a corse, 
 Leaning against the Master of the Horse. 
 
 xxv. 
 
 A dozen of the bravest up the stair, 
 
 Well lighted and well watch'd, began to clamber • 
 They sought the door — they found it — they were there — 
 
 A dozen heads went poking in the chamber ; 
 And lo ! with one hand planted on his hurt, 
 There stood the Body bleeding thro' his shirt,- — 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 No passive corse — but like a duellist 
 
 Just smarting from a scratch — in fierce position, 
 One hand advanced, and ready to resist ; 
 
 In fact, the Baron doff'd the apparition, 
 Swearing those oaths the French delight in most, 
 And for the second time " gave up the ghost ! " 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 A living miracle ! — for why 1 — the knife 
 
 That cuts so many off from grave gray hairs, 
 
 Had only carved him kindly into life : 
 
 How soon it changed the posture of affairs ! 
 
 The difference one person more or less 
 
 Will make in families, is past all guess. 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 There stood the Baroness — no widow yet : 
 Here stood the Baron — " in the body " still : 
 
 There stood the Horses' Master in a pet, 
 Choking with disappointment's bitter pill,
 
 212 
 
 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 To see the hope of his reversion fail, 
 Like that of riding on a donkey's tail. 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 The Baron lived — 'twas nothing but a trance 
 The lady died — 'twas nothing but a death : 
 
 The cupboard-cut served only to enhance 
 This postscript to the old Baronial breath ; 
 
 He soon forgave, for the revival's sake, 
 
 A little chop intended for a steak !
 
 THE DEMON-SHIP. 
 
 213 
 
 The Flying Dutchman. 
 
 THE DEMON-SHIP. 
 
 TORIES of storm-ships and haunted vessels, of spectre- 
 shallops, and supernatural Dutch doggers, are common 
 to many countries, and are well attested both in 
 poetry and prose. The adventures of Solway sailors, with 
 Mahound, in his bottomless barges, and the careerings of the 
 phantom-ship up and down the Hudson, have hundreds of 
 asserters besides Messrs Cunningham and Crayon ; and to 
 doubt their authenticity may seem like an imitation of the 
 desperate sailing of the haunted vessels themselves against 
 wind and tide. I cannot help fancying, however, that 
 
 o
 
 214 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 Richard Faulder was but one of those tavern-dreamers re. 
 corded by old Heywood, who conceived 
 
 " The room wherein they quaff 'd to be a pinnace." 
 
 And as for the Flying Dutchman, my notion is very different 
 from the popular conception of that apparition, as I have 
 ventured to show by the design on the other side. The spectre- 
 ship, bound to Dead-Man's Isle, is almost as awful a craft as 
 the skeleton-bark of the Ancient Mariner ; but they are both 
 fictions, and have not the advantage of being realities, like 
 the dreary vessel with its dreary crew in the following story, 
 which records an adventure that befel even unto myself. 
 
 'Twas off the Wash — the sun went down — the sea look'd 
 
 black and grim, 
 For stormy clouds, with murky fleece, were mustering at the 
 
 brim ; 
 Titantic shades ! enormous gloom ! — as if the solid night 
 Of Erebus rose suddenly to seize upon the light ! 
 It was a time for mariners to bear a wary eye, 
 With such a dark conspiracy between the sea and sky 
 
 l 
 
 Down went my helm — close reef'd — the tack held freely in 
 
 my hand — 
 With ballast snug — I put about, and scudded for the land. 
 Loud hiss'd the sea beneath her lee — my little boat flew fast, 
 But faster still the rushing storm came borne upon the blast. 
 Lord ! what a roaring hurricane beset the straining sail ! 
 What furious sleet, with level drift, and fierce assaults of hail! 
 What darksome caverns yawn'd before ! what jagged steeps 
 
 behind ! 
 Like battle-steeds, with foamy manes, Avild tossing in the 
 
 wind. 
 Each after each sank down astern, exhausted in the chase, 
 But where it sank another rose and gallop'd in its place ;
 
 THE DEMON-SHIP. 215 
 
 As black as night — they turned to white, and cast against the 
 
 cloud 
 A snowy sheet, as if each surge upturn'd a sailor's shroud : — 
 Still flew my boat ; alas ! alas ! her course was nearly run ! 
 Behold yon fatal billow rise — ten billows heap'd in one ! 
 With fearful speed the dreary mass came rolling, rolling, fast, 
 As if the scooping sea contain'd one only wave at last ! 
 Still on it came, with horrid roar, a swift pursuing grave ; 
 It seem'd as though some cloud had turn'd its hugeness to a 
 
 wave ! 
 Its briny sleet began to beat beforehand in my face — 
 I felt the rearward keel begin to climb its swelling base ! 
 I saw its alpine hoary head impending over mine ! 
 Another pulse — and down it rush'd — an avalanche of brine ! 
 Brief pause had I, on God to cry, or think of wife and home ; 
 The waters closed — and when I shriek'd, I shriek'd below the 
 
 foam ! 
 Beyond that rush I have no hint of any after deed— 
 For I was tossing on the waste, as senseless as a weed. 
 
 "Where am LI — in the breathing world, or in the world of 
 
 death 1 " 
 With sharp and sudden pang I drew another birth of breath ; 
 My eyes drank in a doubtful light, my ears a doubtful 
 
 sound — 
 And was that ship a real ship whose tackle seem'd around ? 
 A moon, as if the earthly moon, was shining up aloft ; 
 But were those beams the very beams that I bad seen so oft ? 
 A face, that mock'd the human face, before me watch'd alone; 
 But were those eyes the eyes of man that look'd against my 
 
 own? 
 
 Oh ! never may the moon again disclose me such a sight 
 As met my gaze, when first 1 look'd, on that accursed night ! 
 I 've seen a thousand horrid shapes begot of fierce extremes
 
 2i6 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 Of fever ; and most frightful things have haunted in my 
 
 dreams — 
 Hyenas — cats — blood-loving bats — and apes with hateful 
 
 stare — 
 Pernicious snakes, and shaggy bulls — the lion, and she-bear — 
 Strong enemies, with Judas looks, of treachery and spite — 
 Detested features, hardly dimm'd and banish'd by the light ! 
 Pale-sheeted ghosts, with gory locks, upstarting from their 
 
 tombs — 
 All phantasies and images that flit in midnight glooms — 
 Hags, goblins, demons, lemures, have made me all aghast, — 
 But nothing like that Grimly One who stood beside the 
 
 mast ! 
 
 His cheek was black — his brow was black — his eyes and 
 
 hair as dark : 
 His hand was black, and where it touch'd, it left a sable 
 
 mark ; 
 His throat was black, his vest the same, and when I look'd 
 
 beneath, 
 His breast was black — all, all was black, except his grinning 
 
 teeth. 
 His sooty crew were like in hue, as black as Afric slaves! 
 Oh, horror ! e'en the ship was black that plough'd the inky 
 
 waves ! 
 
 " Alas ! " I cried, " for love of truth and blessed mercy's 
 
 sake, 
 Where am 1 1 in what dreadful ship 1 upon what dreadful 
 
 lake? 
 What shape is tbat, so very grim, and black as any coal ? 
 It is Mahound, the Evil One, and he has gain'd my soul ! 
 Oh, mother dear ! my tender nurse ! dear meadows that 
 
 beguiled 
 My happy days, when I was yet a little sinless child, — 
 My mother dear — my native fields, I never more shall see : 
 I 'in sailing in the Devil's Ship, upon the Devil's Sea ! "
 
 THE DEMON-SHIP. 
 
 217 
 
 Loud laugli'd that Sable Mariner, and loudly in return 
 His sooty crew sent forth a laugh that rang from stem to 
 
 stern — 
 A dozen pair of grimly cheeks were crumpled on the 
 
 nonce — 
 As many sets of grinning teeth came shining out at once : 
 A dozen gloomy shapes at once enjoy'd the merry fit, 
 With shriek and yell, and oaths as well, like Demons of the 
 
 Pit. 
 They crow'd their fill, and then the Chief made answer for 
 
 the whole 5 — 
 "Our skins," said he, "are black ye see, because we carry 
 
 coal ; 
 You'll find your mother sure enough, and see your native 
 
 fields — 
 For this here ship has pick'd you up — the Mary Ann of 
 
 Shields ! "
 
 2iS WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 SALLY HOLT AND THE DEATH OF 
 JOHN HAYLOFT. 
 
 OUR times in the year — twice at the season of the 
 half-yearly dividends, and twice at the intermediate 
 quarters, to make her slender investments — there 
 calls at my Aunt Shakerly's, a very plain, very demure 
 maiden, about forty, and makes her way downward to the 
 kitchen, or upward to my cousin's chamber, as may happen. 
 Her coming is not to do chair-work, or needlework — to tell 
 fortunes — to beg, steal, or borrow. She does not come for 
 old clothes, or for new. Her simple errand is love — pure, 
 strong, disinterested, enduring love, passing the love of 
 women — at least for women. 
 
 It is not often servitude begets much kindliness between 
 the two relations ; hers, however, grew from that ungenial 
 soil. For the whole family of the Shakerlies she has a strong 
 feudal attachment, but her particular regard dwells with 
 Charlotte, the latest born of the clan, ller she dotes upon 
 — her she fondles — and takes upon her longing, loving lap. 
 
 O let not the oblivious attentions of the worthy Dominie 
 Sampson, to the tall boy Bertram, be called an unnatural 
 working ! I have seen my cousin, a good feeder, and well 
 grown into womanhood, sitting — two good heads taller than 
 her dry-nurse — on the knees of the simple-hearted Sally 
 Holt ! I have seen the huge presentation orange, unlapped 
 from the homely speckled kerchief, and thrust with impor- 
 tunate tenderness into the bashful viarriageahlc hand. 
 
 My cousin's heart is not so artificially composed, as to let 
 her scorn this humble affection, though she is puzzled some-
 
 SALL Y HOL T AND JOHN HA YLOFT. 219 
 
 times with what kind of look to receive these honest but 
 awkward endearments. I have seen her face quivering with 
 half a laugh. 
 
 It is one of Sally's staple hopes that, some day or other, 
 when Miss Charlotte keeps house, she will live with her as a 
 servant : and this expectation makes her particular and 
 earnest to a fault in her inquiries about sweethearts, and 
 offers, and the matrimonial chances : questions which I have 
 seen my cousin listen to with half a cry. 
 
 Perhaps Sally looks upon this confidence as her right, in 
 return for those secrets which, by joint force of ignorance and 
 affection, she could not help reposing in the bosom of her 
 foster-mistress. Nature, unkind to her, as to Dogberry, 
 denied to her that knowledge of reading and writing which 
 comes to some by instinct. A strong principle of religion 
 made it a darling point with her to learn to read, that she 
 might study in her Bible : but in spite of all the help of my 
 cousin, and as ardent a desire for learning as ever dwelt in 
 scholar, poor Sally never mastered beyond A-B-ab. Her 
 mind, simple as her heart, was unequal to any more difficult 
 combinations. Writing was worse to her than conjuring. 
 My Cousin was her amanuensis : and from the vague, unac- 
 countable mistrust of ignorance, the inditer took the pains 
 always to compare the verbal message with the transcript, by 
 counting the number of the words. 
 
 I would give up all the tender epistles of Mrs Arthur 
 Brooke, to have read one of Sally's epistles ; but they were 
 amatory, and therefore kept sacred : for plain as she was, 
 Saliy Holt had a lover. 
 
 There is an unpretending plainness in some faces that has 
 its charm — an unaffected ugliness, a thousand times more 
 bewitching than those would-be pretty looks that neither 
 satisfy the critical sense, nor leave the matter of beauty at 
 once to the imagination. We like better to make a new face 
 than to mend an old one. Sally had not one good feature, 
 except those which John Hayloft made for her in his dreams ; 
 and to judge from one token, her partial fancy was equally
 
 220 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 answerable for his charms. One precious lock — no, not .1 
 lock, but rather a remnant of very short, very coarse, very 
 yellow hair, the clippings of a military crop — for John was a 
 corporal — stood the foremost item amongst her treasures. To 
 her they were curls, golden, Hyperion, and cherished long 
 after the parent-bead was laid low, with many more, on the 
 bloody plain of Salamanca. 
 
 I remember vividly at this moment the ecstasy of her grief 
 at the receipt of the fatal news. She was standing near the 
 dresser with a dish, just cleaned, in her dexter hand. Ninety- 
 nine women in a hundred would have dropped the dish. 
 Many would have flung themselves after it on the floor ; but 
 Sally put it up, orderly, on the shelf. The fall of John 
 Hayloft could not induce the fall of the crockery. She felt 
 the blow notwithstanding; and as soon as she had emptied 
 her hands, began to give way to her emotions in her own 
 manner. Affliction vents itself in various modes, with differ- 
 ent temperaments: some rage, others compose themselves like 
 monuments. Some weep, some sleep, some prose about death, 
 and others poetise on it. Many take to a bottle, or to a rope. 
 Some go to Margate, or Bath. 
 
 Sally did nothing of these kinds. She neither snivelled, 
 travelled, sickened, maddened, nor ranted, nor canted, nor 
 hung, nor fuddled herself — she only rocked herself upon the 
 kitchen chair ! ! 
 
 The action was not adequate to her relief. She got up — 
 took a fresh chair — then another — and another — and another, 
 — till she had rocked on all the chairs in the kitchen. 
 
 The thing was tickling to both sympathies. It was 
 pathetical to behold her grief, but ludicrous that she knew no 
 better how to grieve. 
 
 An American might have thought that she was in the act 
 of enjoyment, but for an intermitting O dear ! O dear ! 
 Passion could not wring more from her in the way of exclam- 
 ation than the toothache. Her lamentations were always 
 the same, even in tone. By and bye she pulled out the hair 
 — the cropped, yellow, stunted, scrubby hair ; then she
 
 SALL Y HOL T AND JOHN HA YL OFT. 22 1 
 
 fell to rocking — then dear ! clear ! — and then Da 
 Capo. 
 
 It was an odd sort of elegy, and yet, simple as it was, I 
 thought it worth a thousand of Lord Littleton's ! 
 
 " Heyday, Sally ! what is the matter 1 " was a very natural 
 inquiry from my Aunt, when she came down into the kitchen; 
 and if she did not make it with her tongue, at least it was 
 asked very intelligibly by her eyes. Now Sally had but one 
 way of addressing her mistress, and she used it here. It was 
 the same with which she would have asked for a holiday, 
 except that the waters stood in her eyes. 
 
 "If you please, Ma'am," said she, rising up from her chair, 
 and dropping her old curtsey, "if you please, Ma'am, it's 
 John Hayloft is dead ; " and then she began rocking again, as 
 if grief was a baby that wanted jogging to sleep. 
 
 My Aunt was posed. She would fain have comforted the 
 mourner, but her mode of grieving was so out of the common 
 way, that she did not know how to begin. To the violent she 
 might have brought soothing ; to the desponding, texts of 
 patience and resignation ; to the hysterical, sal volatile ; she 
 mi"ht have asked the sentimental for the story of her woes. 
 A good scolding is useful with some sluggish griefs : — in some 
 cases a cordial. In others — a job. 
 
 If Sally had only screamed, or bellowed, or fainted, or gone 
 stupified, or raved, or said a collect, or moped about, it would 
 have been easy to deal with her. But with a woman that 
 only rocked on her chair 
 
 What the devil could my Aunt do 1 — 
 
 "Why, nothing : — and she did it as well as she could.
 
 222 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 A TRUE STORY. 
 
 F all our pains, since man was curst, 
 I mean of body, not the mental, 
 To name the worst, among the worst, 
 The dental sure is transcendental ; 
 Some bit of masticating bone, 
 That ought to help to clear a shelf, 
 But let its proper work alone, 
 And only seems to gnaw itself; 
 In fact, of any grave attack 
 On victual there is little danger, 
 Tis so like coming to the rack, 
 As well as going to the manger. 
 
 Old Hunks — it seem'd a fit retort 
 
 Of justice on his grinding ways — 
 
 Possess'd a grinder of the sort, 
 
 That troubled all his latter days. 
 
 The best of friends fall out, and so 
 
 His teeth had done some years ago, 
 
 Save some old stumps with ragged root, 
 
 And they took turn about to shoot ; 
 
 If he drank any chilly liquor, 
 
 They made it quite a point to throb ; 
 
 But if he warm'd it on the hob, 
 
 Why then they only twitch'd the quicker.
 
 A TRUE STORY. 22- 
 
 One tooth — I wonder such a tooth 
 
 Had never kill'd him in his youth — 
 
 One tooth he had with many fangs, 
 
 That shot at once as many pangs, 
 
 It had a universal sting ; 
 
 One touch of that ecstatic stump 
 
 Could jerk his limbs and make him 
 
 jump, 
 Just like a puppet on a string ; 
 And what was worse than all, it had 
 A way of making others bad. 
 There is, as many know, a knack, 
 With certain farming undertakers, 
 And this same tooth pursued their track, 
 By adding ackers still to ackers! 
 
 One way there is, that has been judged 
 A certain cure, but Hunks was loth 
 To pay the fee, and quite begrudged 
 To lose his tooth and money both ; 
 In fact, a dentist and the wheel 
 Of Fortune are a kindred cast, 
 For after all is drawn, you feel 
 It 's paying for a blank at last ; 
 So Hunks went on from week to week, 
 And kept his torment in his cheek ; 
 Oh ! how it sometimes set him rocking, 
 With that perpetual gnaw — gnaw — gnaw, 
 His moans and groans were truly shock- 
 ing 
 And loud, — altho' he held his jaw. 
 Many a tug lie gave his gum, 
 And tooth, but still it would not come, 
 Tho' tied by string to some firm thing, 
 He could not draw it, do his best, 
 By drawers, altho' he tried a chest.
 
 224 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 At last, but after much debating, 
 
 He join'd a score of mouths in waiting, 
 
 Like his, to have their troubles out. 
 
 Sad siirht it was to look about 
 
 At twenty faces making faces, 
 
 With many a rampant trick and antic, 
 
 For all were very horrid cases, 
 
 And made their owners nearly frantic. 
 
 A little wicket now and then 
 
 Took one of these unhappy men, 
 
 And out again the victim rusli'd, 
 
 While eyes and mouth together gush'd ; 
 
 At last arrived our hero's turn, 
 
 Who plunged his hands in both his pockets, 
 
 And down he sat, prepared to learn 
 
 How teeth are charm'd to quit their sockets. 
 
 Those who have felt such operations, 
 Alone can guess the sort of ache, 
 When his old tooth besran to break 
 The thread of old associations ; 
 It touch'd a string in every part, 
 It had so many tender tics ; 
 One chord seem'd wrenching at his heart, 
 And two were tugging at his eyes; 
 " Bone of his bone," he felt of course, 
 As husbands do in such divorce; 
 At last the fangs gave way a little. 
 Hunks gave his head a backward jerk, 
 And lo ! the cause of all this work, 
 Went — where it used to send his victual ' 
 
 The monstrous pain of this proceeding 
 Had not so numb'd his miser wit, 
 But in this slip he saw a hit
 
 A TRUE STORY. 225 
 
 To save, at least, his purse from bleeding ■ 
 So when the dentist sought his fees, 
 Quoth Hunks, " Let 's finish, if you please." 
 " How, finish ! why it 's out ! "— " Oh ! no— 
 'Tis you are out, to argue so ; 
 I 'm none of your before-hand tippers. 
 My tooth is in my head no doubt, 
 But, as you say you pulled it out, 
 Of course it 's there — between your nippers." 
 " Zounds, sir ! d'ye think I 'd sell the truth 
 To get a fee 1 no, wretch, I scorn it ! " 
 But Hunks still a^k'd to see the tooth, 
 And swore by gum ! he had net drawn it. 
 
 His end obtain'd, he took his leave, 
 
 A secret chuckle in his sleeve ; 
 
 The joke was worthy to produce one, 
 
 To think, by favour of his wit, 
 
 How well a dentist had been bit 
 
 By one old stump, and that a loose one ! 
 
 The thing was worth a laugh, but mirth 
 
 Is still the frailest thins: on earth : 
 
 Alas ! how often when a joke 
 
 Seems in our sleeve, and safe enough, 
 
 There comes some unexpected stroke, 
 
 And hangs a weeper on the cuff ! 
 
 Hunks had not whistled half a mile, 
 When, planted right against a stile, 
 There stood his foeman, Mike Mahoney, 
 A vagrant reaper, Irish-born, 
 That help'd to reap our miser's corn, 
 But had not help'd to reap his money, 
 A fact that Hunks remember'd quickly ; 
 His whistle all at once was quelFd,
 
 226 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 And when he saw how Michael held 
 His sickle, he felt rather sickly. 
 
 Nine souls in ten, with half his fright, 
 Would soon have paid the bill at sight, 
 But misers (let observers watch it) 
 Will never part with their delight 
 Till well demanded by a hatchet — 
 They live hard — and they die to match it. 
 Thus Hunks prepared for Mike's attacking, 
 Resolved not yet to pay the debt, 
 But let him take it out in hacking ; 
 However, Mike began to stickle 
 In words before he used the sickle ; 
 But mercy was not long attendant : 
 From words at last he took to blows, 
 And aim'd a cut at Hunks's nose, 
 That made it what some folks are not — 
 A member very independent. 
 
 Heaven knows how far this cruel trick 
 
 Might still have led, but for a tramper 
 
 That came in danger's very nick, 
 
 To put Mahoney to the scamper. 
 
 But still compassion met a damper ; 
 
 There lay the sever'd nose, alas ! 
 
 Beside the daisies on the grass, 
 
 " Wee, crimson-tipt " as well as they, 
 
 According to the poet's lay : 
 
 And there stood Hunks, no sight for laughter. 
 
 Away ran Hodge to get assistance, 
 
 With nose in hand, which Hunks ran after, 
 
 But somewhat at unusual distance. 
 
 In many a little country place 
 
 It is a very common case
 
 A TRUE STORY. 227 
 
 To have but one residing doctor. 
 Whose practice rather seems to be 
 No practice, but a rule of three, 
 Physician — surgeon — drug-decoctor ; 
 Thus Hunks was forced to go once more 
 Where he had ta'en his tooth before. 
 His mere name made the learn'd man hot, — 
 " What ! Hunks again within my door ! 
 "I'll pull his nose ;" quoth Hunks, "You can- 
 not." 
 
 The doctor look'd and saw the case 
 Plain as the nose not on his face. 
 " Oh ! hum — ha — yes — I understand." 
 But then arose a long demur, 
 For not a finger would he stir 
 Till he was paid his fee in hand ; 
 That matter settled, there they were. 
 With Hunks well strapp'd upon his chair. 
 
 The opening of a surgeon's job — 
 
 His tools, a chestful or a drawerful — 
 
 Are always something very awful, 
 
 And give the heart the strangest throb ; 
 
 But never patient in his funks 
 
 Look'd half so like a ghost as Hunks, 
 
 Or surgeon half so like a devil 
 
 Prepared for some infernal revel : 
 
 His huge black eye kept rolling, rolling, 
 
 Just like a bolus in a box : 
 
 His fury seem'd above controlling, 
 
 He hello w'd like a hunted ox : 
 
 " Now, swindling wretch, I'll show thee hov 
 
 We treat such cheating knaves as thou 5 
 
 Oh ! sweet is this revenge to sup ;
 
 228 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 I have thee by the nose — it 's now 
 My turn— and I will turn it up." 
 
 Guess how the miser liked the scurvy 
 And cruel way of venting passion ; 
 The snubbing folks in this new fashion 
 Seem'd quite to turn him topsy-turvy ; 
 He utter'd pray'rs, and groans, and curses, 
 For things had often gone amiss 
 And wrong with him before, but this 
 Would be the worst of all reverses/ 
 In fancy he beheld his snout 
 Turn'd upward like a pitcher's spout ; 
 There was another grievance yet, 
 And fancy did not fail to show it, 
 That he must throw a summerset, 
 Or stand upon his head to blow it. 
 
 And was there then no argument 
 To change the doctor's vile intent, 
 And move his pity ?— yes, in truth, 
 And that was — paying for the tooth. 
 
 '• Zounds ! pay for such a stump ! I 'd rather " 
 
 But here the menace went no farther, 
 For with his other ways of pinching 
 Hunks had a miser's love of snuff, 
 A recollection strong enough 
 To cause a very serious flinching ; 
 In short he paid and had the feature 
 Replaced as it was meant by nature ; 
 For tho' by this 'twas cold to handle, 
 'No corpse's could have felt more horrid,) 
 And white just like an end of candle, 
 The doctor deem'd ami proved it too, 
 That noses from the nose will do
 
 A TRUE STORY. 
 
 As well as noses from the forehead ; 
 So, fix'd by dint of rag and lint, 
 The part was bandaged up and muffled. 
 The chair unfasten'd, Hunks arose, 
 And shuffled out, for once unshuffled ; 
 And as he went, these words he snuffled — 
 " Well, this is ' paying thro' the nose.' " 
 
 229 
 
 Pony-Atowski.
 
 WlllXr AND ODDITIES. 
 
 " Wholesale — Retail — and for Exportation." 
 
 THE DECLINE OF MRS SHAKERLY. 
 
 1 
 
 m9 
 
 OWARDS the close of her life, my Aunt Shakerly 
 increased rapidly in bulk : she kept adding growth 
 unto her growth, 
 
 " Giving a sum of more to that which had too much," 
 
 till the result was worthy of a Smithfield premium. It was 
 not the triumph, however, of any systematic diet for the pro- 
 motion of fat — (except oyster eating, there is no human system
 
 THE DECLINE OF MRS SHAKERLY. 231 
 
 of stall-feeding) ; on the contrary, she lived abstemiously, 
 diluting her food with pickle-acids, and keeping frequent 
 fasts, in order to reduce her compass ; but they failed of this 
 desirable effect. Nature had planned an original tendency in 
 her organisation that was not to be overcome : she would 
 have fattened on sour krout. 
 
 My uncle, on the other hand, decreased daily. Originally 
 a little man, he became lean, shrunken, wizened. There was 
 a predisposition in his constitution that made him spare, and 
 kept him so : he would have fallen off, even on brewers' 
 grains. 
 
 It was the common joke of the neighbourhood to designate 
 my aunt, my uncle, and the infant Shakerly, as " Wholesale, 
 Retail, and for Exportation ; " and, in truth, they were 
 not inapt impersonations of that popular inscription — my 
 aunt a giantess, my uncle a pigmy, and the child being 
 "carried abroad." 
 
 Alas ! of the three departments, nothing now remains but 
 the Retail portion — my uncle, a pennyworth, a mere sample. 
 
 It is upon record, that Dr Watts, though a puny man in 
 person, took a fancy, towards his latter days, that he was too 
 large to pass through a door — an error which Death shortly 
 corrected by taking him through his own portal. My un- 
 happy aunt, with more show of reason, indulged in a similar 
 delusion. She conceived herself to have grown inconveniently 
 
 cumbersome for the small village of , and my uncle, to 
 
 quiet her, removed to the metropolis. There she lived for 
 some months in comparative ease, till at last an unlucky event 
 recalled all her former inquietude. The elephant of Mr Cross, 
 a good feeder, and with a natural tendency to corpulence, 
 throve so well on his rations, that, becoming too huge for his 
 den, he was obliged to be dispatched. My aunt read the 
 account in the newspapers, and the catastrophe, with its cause, 
 took possession of her mind. She seemed to herself as that 
 elephant. An intolerable sense of confinement and oppres- 
 sion haunted her by day and in her dreams. First she had 
 a tightness at her chest, then in her limbs, then all over. She
 
 232 
 
 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 felt too big for her chair, then for her bed, then for her room, 
 then for the house ! To divert her thought, my uncle proposed 
 to go to Paris ; but she was too huge for a boat, for a barge, 
 for a packet, for a frigate, for a country, for a continent ! 
 "She was too big," she said, "for this world; but she was 
 going to one that is boundless." 
 
 Nothing could wean her from this belief. Her whole talk 
 was of " cumber grounds," of the " burthen of the flesh," 
 and of " infinity." Sometimes her head wandered, and she 
 would then speak of disposing of the " bulk of her personals." 
 
 In the meantime, her health decayed slowly, but percep- 
 tibly. She was dying, the doctor said, by inches. 
 
 Now my uncle was a kind husband, and meant tenderly, 
 though it sounded untender : but when the doctor said that 
 she was dying by inches — 
 
 " God forbid ! " cried my uncle. " Consider what a great 
 big creature she is ! " 
 
 teS
 
 TIM TURPIN. 
 
 233 
 
 The Judges of A-Size. 
 TIM TURPIN. 
 
 A PATHETIC BALLAD 
 
 IM TURPIN he was gravel-blind, 
 And ne'er had seen the skies : 
 
 For Nature, when his head was made, 
 Forgot to dot his eyes. 
 
 11. 
 
 So, like a Christmas pedagogue, 
 Poor Tim was forced to do — 
 
 Look out for pupils ; for he had 
 A vacancy for two. 
 
 in. 
 
 There 's some have specs to help their sight 
 Of objects dim and sma" :
 
 234 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 But Tim had specks within his eyes, 
 And could not see at all. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Now Tim he wooed a servant maid, 
 And took her to his arms ; 
 
 For he, like Pyramus, had cast 
 A wall-eye on her charms. 
 
 By day she led him up and down, 
 Where'er he wished to jog, 
 
 A happy wife, altho' she led 
 The life of any dog. 
 
 VI. 
 
 But just when Tim had lived a month 
 
 In honey with his wife, 
 A surgeon ope'd his Milton eyes, 
 
 Like oysters, with a knife. 
 
 VII. 
 
 But when his eyes were opened thus, 
 He wished them dark again : 
 
 For when he look'd upon his wife, 
 He saw her very plain. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Her face was bad, her figure worse, 
 
 He couldn't bear to eat : 
 For she was anything but like 
 
 A Grace before his meat. 
 
 IX. 
 
 Now Tim he was a feeling man : 
 For when his sighl was thick, 
 
 It made him feel for everything — 
 But that was with a stick.
 
 TIM TURPIN. 235 
 
 So, with a cudgel in his hand — 
 
 It was not light or slim — 
 He knock'd at his wife's head until 
 
 It opened unto him. 
 
 XI. 
 
 And when the corpse was stiff and cold, 
 He took his slaughter'd spouse, 
 
 And laid her in a heap with all 
 The ashes of her house. 
 
 XII. 
 
 But like a wicked murderer, 
 
 He lived in constant fear 
 From day to day, and so he cut 
 
 His throat from ear to ear. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 The neighbours fetch'd a doctor in : 
 Said he, " This wound I dread 
 
 Can hardly be sowed up — his life 
 Is hanainsr on a thread." 
 
 XIV. 
 
 But when another week was gone, 
 He gave him stronger hope — 
 
 Instead of hanging on a thread, 
 Of hanging on a rope. 
 
 XV. 
 
 Ah ! when he hid his bloody work, 
 
 In ashes round about, 
 How little he supposed the truth 
 
 Would soon be sifted out. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 But when the parish dustman came, 
 His rubbish to withdraw.
 
 236 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 He found more dust within the heap, 
 Than he contracted for ! 
 
 xvn. 
 A dozen men to try the fact, 
 
 Were sworn that very day ; 
 But tho' they all were jurors, yet 
 
 No conjurors were they. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 Said Tim unto those jurymen, 
 You need not waste your breath 
 
 For I confess myself at once 
 The author of her death. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 And, oh ! when I reflect upon 
 The blood that I have spilt, 
 
 Just like a button is my soul, 
 Inscribed with double guilt ! 
 
 XX. 
 
 Then turning round his head again, 
 
 He saw before his eyes, 
 A great judge, and a little judge, 
 
 The judges of a-size ! 
 
 XXI. 
 
 The great judge took his judgment cap, 
 
 And put it on his head, 
 And sentenced Tim by law to hang, 
 
 Till he was three times dead. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 So he was tried, and he was hung 
 (Fit punishment for such) 
 
 On Horsham-drop, and none can say 
 It was a drop too much.
 
 THE MONKEY-MARTYR. 
 
 237 
 
 Brute Emancipation. 
 
 THE MONKEY-MARTYR. 
 
 A FABLE. 
 
 " God help thee, said I, but I '11 let thee out, cost what it will : so I 
 turned about the cage to get to the door." — Sterne. 
 
 IS strange, what awkward figures and odd capers 
 Folks cut, who seek their doctrine from the papers ; 
 But there are many shallow politicians, 
 
 Who take their bias from bewilder'd journals — 
 Turn state physicians, 
 
 And make themselves fools'-caps of the diurnals. 
 
 One of this kind, not human, but a monkey, 
 
 Had read himself at last to this sour creed,
 
 238 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 That he was nothing but Oppression's flunkey. 
 And man a tyrant over all his breed. 
 
 He could not read 
 Of niggers whipt, or over-trampled weavers, 
 But he applied their wrongs to his own seed, 
 And nourish'd thoughts that threw him into fevers. 
 His very dreams were full of martial beavers, 
 And drilling Pugs, for liberty pugnacious, 
 
 To sever chains vexatious. 
 In fact, he thought that all his injured line 
 Should take up pikes in hand, and never drop 'em 
 Till they had clear'd a road to Freedom's shrine, 
 Unless perchance the turn-pike men should stop 'em. 
 
 Full of this rancour, 
 Pacing one day beside St Clement Danes, 
 
 It came into his brains 
 To give a look in at the Crown and Anchor ; 
 Where certain solemn sages of the nation 
 Were at that moment in deliberation 
 How to relieve the wide world of its chains, 
 
 Pluck despots down, 
 
 And thereby crown 
 Whitee- as well as blackee-man-cipation. 
 Pug heard the speeches with great approbation, 
 And gazed with pride upon the liberators ; 
 
 To see mere coalheavers 
 
 Such perfect Bolivars — 
 Waiters of inns sublimed to innovators — 
 And slaters dignified as legislators — 
 Small publicans demanding (such their high sense 
 Of liberty) an universal license — 
 And patten-makers casing Freedom's clogs — 
 
 The whole thing seem'd 
 
 So fine, he dccni'd 
 The smallest demagogties as great as Gogs ! 
 Pug, with some curious notions in his noddle,
 
 THE MONKEY-MARTYR. 
 
 Walk'd out at last, and tnrn'd into the Strand, 
 
 To the left hand, 
 Conning some portions of the previous twaddle, 
 And striding with a step that seem'd design'd 
 To represent the mighty March of Mind, 
 
 Instead of that slow waddle 
 Of thought, to which our ancestors inclined. 
 No wonder, then, that he should quickly find 
 He stood in front of that intrusive pile, 
 
 Where Cross keeps many a kind 
 
 Of bird confined, 
 And free-born animal, in durance vile — - 
 A thought that stirr'd up all the monkey-bile 
 
 The window stood ajar — 
 
 It was not far, 
 Nor, like Parnassus, very hard to climb — 
 The hour was verging on the supper-time, 
 And many a growl was sent through many a bar. 
 Meanwhile Pug scrambled upward like a tar, 
 
 And soon crept in, 
 
 Unnoticed in the din 
 Of tuneless throats, that made the attics ring 
 With all the harshest notes that they could bring ; 
 
 For like the Jews, 
 
 Wild beasts refuse 
 In midst of their captivity to sing. 
 
 Lord ! how it made him chafe, 
 Full of his new emancipating zeal, 
 To look around upon this brute-bastile, 
 And see the king of creatures in — a safe ! 
 The desert's denizen in one small den, 
 Swallowing slavery's most bitter pills — ■ 
 A bear in bars unbearable. And then 
 The fretful porcupine, with all its quills 
 Imprison'd in a pen ! 
 
 239
 
 24° WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 A tiger limited to four feet ten ■ 
 
 And, still worse lot, 
 
 A leopard to one spot ! 
 
 An elephant enlarged, 
 
 But not discharged, 
 (It was before the elephant was shot ;) 
 A doleful wanderow, that wander'd not ; 
 An ounce much disproportion^ to his pound. 
 
 Pug's wrath wax'd hot 
 To gaze upon these captive creatures round ; 
 Whose claws — all scratching — gave him full assurance 
 They found their durance vile of vile endurance. 
 
 He went above — a solitary mounter 
 Up gloomy stairs — and saw a pensive group 
 Of hapless fowls — 
 Cranes, vultures, owls ; 
 In fact, it was a sort of Poultry-Compter, 
 Where feather'd prisoners were doom'd to droop : 
 Here sat an eagle, forced to make a stoop, 
 Not from the skies, but his impending roof ; 
 
 And there aloof, 
 A pining ostrich, moping in a coop ; 
 With other samples of the bird creation, 
 All caged against their powers and their wills ; 
 And cramp'd in such a space, the longest bills 
 Were plainly bills of least accommodation. 
 
 In truth, it was a very ugly scene 
 
 To fall to any liberator's share, 
 
 To see those wing'd fowls, that once had been 
 
 Free as the wind, no freer than fix'd air. 
 
 His temper little mended, 
 Pug from this Bird-cage Walk at last descended 
 
 Unto the lion and the elephant, 
 
 His bosom in a pant 
 To see all nature's Free List thus suspended,
 
 THE MONKEY-MARTYR. 241 
 
 And beasts deprived of what she had intended. 
 
 They could not even prey 
 
 In their own way — 
 A hardship always reckon'd quite prodigious. 
 
 Thus he revolved, 
 
 And soon resolved 
 To give them freedom, civil and religioiio. 
 
 That night there were no country cousins, raw 
 From Wales, to view the lion and his kin : 
 The keeper's eyes were fix'd upon a saw ; 
 The saw was fix'd upon a bullock's shin : 
 
 Meanwhile with stealthy paw, 
 
 Pug hasten'd to withdraw 
 The bolt that kept the king of brutes within. 
 Now, monarch of the forest ! thou shalt win 
 Precious enfranchisement — thy bolts are undone ; 
 Thou art no longer a degraded creature, 
 But loose to roam with liberty and nature, 
 And free of all the jungles about London — 
 All Hampstead's heathy desert lies before thee ! 
 Methinks I see thee bound from Cross's ark, 
 Full of the native instinct that comes o'er thee, 
 
 And turn a ranger 
 Of Hounslow Forest and the Regent's Park — 
 Thin Rhodes's cows — -the mail-coach steeds endanger, 
 And gobble parish watchmen after dark. 
 Methinks I see thee, with the early lark, 
 Stealing to Merlin's cave {thy cave). Alas, 
 That such bright visions should not come to pass ! 
 Alas, for freedom, and for freedom's hero ! 
 
 Alas, for liberty of life and limb ! 
 For Pug had only half unbolted Nero, 
 When Nero bolted him !
 
 242 
 
 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 ~Z>> 
 
 BANDITTI. 
 
 F all the saints in the Calendar, none has suffered less 
 from the Reformation than St Cecilia, the great 
 patroness of Music. Lofty and lowly are her votaries 
 —many and magnificent are her holiday festivals — and her 
 common service is performing at all hours of the day. She 
 has not only her regular high-priests and priestesses; but, 
 like the Wesleyans, her itinerants and street-missionaries, to 
 make known her worship in the highways and in the byeways. 
 Nor is the homage confined to the people of one creed; — the 
 Protestant exalts her on his barrel-organ — the Catholic with
 
 BANDITTI. 243 
 
 her tambourine — the wandering Jew with his Pan's-pipe and 
 double-drum. The group opposite was sketched from a com- 
 pany of these " Strolling Players." 
 
 It must be confessed that their service is sometimes of a 
 kind rather to drive angels higher into heaven, than to entice 
 them earthward ; and there are certain retired streets — near 
 the Adelphi, for instance — where such half-hourly deductions 
 from the natural quiet of the situation should justly be con- 
 sidered in the rent. Some of the choruses, in truth, are 
 beyond any but a saintly endurance. Conceive a brace of 
 opposition organs, a fife, two hurdygurdies, a clarionet, and 
 a quartette of decayed mariners, all clubbing their music in 
 common, on the very principle of Mr Owen's Nero Harmony ! 
 
 In the journal of a recent traveller through the Papal 
 States, there is an account of an adventure with Neapolitan 
 robbers, that would serve, with very slight alterations, for the 
 description of an encounter with our own banditti. 
 
 " To-day, Mrs Graham and I mounted our horses and rode 
 towards Islington. We had not proceeded far, when we heard 
 sounds as of screaming and groaning, and presently a group 
 of men appeared at a turn of the road. It was too certain 
 that we had fallen in with one of these roving bands. Escape 
 was impossible, as they extended across the road. Their 
 leader was the celebrated Flanigan, notorious for his murder 
 of Fair Ellen, and the Bewildered Maid. One of the fellows 
 advanced close up to Mrs G., and putting his instrument to 
 her ear, threatened to blow out her brains. We gave them 
 what coppers we had, and were allowed to proceed. We were 
 informed by the country-people, that a gentlewoman and her 
 daughter had been detained by them, near the same spot, and 
 robbed of their hearings, with circumstances of great bar- 
 barity ; Flanigan, in the meantime, standing by with his pipe 
 in his mouth ! 
 
 " Innumerable other travellers have been stopped and tor- 
 tured by these wretches, till they give up their money; and 
 yet these excesses are winked at by the police. In the mean- 
 time, the Government does not interfere, in the hope, perhaps,
 
 244 
 
 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 that some day those gangs may be broken up, and separated, 
 by discord amongst themselves." 
 
 Sometimes, to the eye of fancy, these wandering minstrels 
 assume another character, and illustrate Collins' " Ode on the 
 Passions," in a way that might edify Miss Macauley. First, 
 Fear, a blind harper, lays his bewildered hand amongst the 
 chords, but recoils back at the sound of an approaching car- 
 riage. Anger, with starting eye-balls, blows a rude clash on 
 the bugle-horn : and Despair, a snipe-faced wight, beguiles his 
 grief with low sullen sounds on the bassoon. Hope, a con- 
 sumptive Scot, with golden hair and a clarionet, indulges, 
 like the flatterer herself, in a thousand fantastic flourishes 
 beside the tune — with a lingering quaver at the close ; and 
 would quaver longer, but Ptevenge shakes his matted locks, 
 blows a fresh alarum on his pandeans, and thumps with 
 double heat his double-drum. Dejected Pity, at his side, a 
 hunger-bitten urchin, applies to his silver-toned triangle ; 
 whilst Jealousy, sad proof of his distracted state, grinds on, 
 in all sorts of time, at his barrel-organ. With eyes upraised, 
 pale Melancholy sings, retired and unheeded, at the corner of 
 the street ; and Mirth, — yonder he is, a brisk little Savoyard, 
 jerking away at the hurdygurdy, and dancing himself at the 
 same time, to render his jig-tune more jigging. 
 
 VfflL.
 
 DEA TH 'S RAMBLE. 
 
 245 
 
 "Dust 0!" 
 
 DEATH'S RAMBLE. 
 
 NE day the dreary old King of Death 
 Inclined for some sport with the carnal, 
 So he tied a pack of darts on his back, 
 And quietly stole from his charnel. 
 
 His head was bald of flesh and of hair, 
 
 His body was lean and lank, 
 His joints at each stir made a crack, and the cur 
 v Took a gnaw, by the way, at his shank. 
 
 Q
 
 246 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 And what did he do with his deadly darts, 
 
 This goblin of grisly bone 1 
 He dabbled and spilFd man's blood, and he kill'd 
 
 Like a butcher that kills his own. 
 
 The first he slaughter'd it made him laugh, 
 
 (For the man was a coffin-maker,) 
 To think how the mutes, and men in black suits, 
 
 Would mourn for an undertaker. 
 
 Death saw two Quakers sitting at church, 
 
 Quoth he, "We shall not differ." 
 And he let them alone, like figures of stone, 
 
 For he could not make them stiffer. 
 
 He saw two duellists going to fight, 
 
 In fear they could not smother ; 
 And he shot one through at once — for he knew 
 
 They never would shoot each other. 
 
 He saw a watchman fast in his box, 
 
 And he gave a snore infernal ; 
 Said Death, " He may keep his breath, for his sleep 
 
 Can never be more eternal." 
 
 He met a coachman driving his coach 
 
 So slow, that his fare grew sick ; 
 But he let him stray on his tedious way, 
 
 For Death only Avars on the quick. 
 
 Death saw a toll-man taking a toll, 
 
 In the spirit of his fraternity ; 
 But he knew that sort of man would extort, 
 
 Though summon'd to all eternity.
 
 DEATH'S RAMBLE. 247 
 
 He found an author writing his life. 
 
 But he let him write no further ; 
 For Death, who strikes whenever he likes, 
 
 Is jealous of all self-murther ! 
 
 Death saw a patient that pull'd out his purse, 
 
 And a doctor that took the sum ; 
 But he let them be — for he knew that the " fee " 
 
 Was a prelude to "faw" and "fum." 
 
 He met a dustman ringing a bell, 
 
 And he gave him a mortal thrust ; 
 For himself, by law, since Adam's flaw, 
 
 Is contractor for all our dust. 
 
 He saw a sailor mixing his grog, 
 
 And he mark'd him out for slaughter ; 
 
 For on water he scarcely had cared for Death, 
 And never on rum-and-water. 
 
 Death saw two players playing at cards, 
 
 But the game wasn't worth a dump, 
 For he quickly laid them flat with a spade, 
 
 To wait for the final trump !
 
 H s 
 
 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 (Jrane-iology, 
 
 CRANIOLOGY. 
 
 S strange how like a very dunce, 
 Man — with his bumps upon his sconce, 
 Has lived so long, and yet no knowledge he 
 Has had, till lately, of Phrenology — 
 A science that by simple dint of
 
 CRANIOLOGY. 249 
 
 Head-combing he should find a hint of, 
 
 When scratching o'er those little pole-hills, 
 
 The faculties throw up like mole-hills ; — 
 
 A science that, in very spite 
 
 Of all his teeth, ne'er came to light, 
 
 For tho' he knew his skull had grinders, 
 
 Still there turn'd up no organ finders, 
 
 Still sages wrote, and ages fled, 
 
 And no man's head came in his head — 
 
 Not even the pate of Erra Pater, 
 
 Knew aught about its pia mater. 
 
 At last great Dr Gall bestirs him — 
 
 I don't know but it might be Spurzheim — 
 
 Tho' native of a dull and slow land, 
 
 And makes partition of our Poll-land ; 
 
 At our Acquisitiveness guesses, 
 
 And all those necessary nesses 
 
 Indicative of human habits, 
 
 All burrowing in the head like rabbits. 
 
 Thus Veneration, he made known, 
 
 Had got a lodging at the Crown ; 
 
 And Music (see Deville's example) 
 
 A set of chambers in the Temple ; 
 
 That Language taught the tongues close by, 
 
 And took in pupils thro' the eye, _ 
 
 Close by his neighbour Computation, 
 
 Who taught the eyebrows numeration. 
 
 The science thus — to speak in fit 
 Terms — having struggled from its nit, 
 Was seized on by a swarm of Scotchmen, 
 Those scientifical hotch-potch men, 
 Who have at least a penny dip, 
 And wallop in all doctorship, 
 Just as in making broth they smatter 
 By bobbing twenty things in water : 
 These men, I say, made quick appliance
 
 250 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 And close, to phrenologic science ; 
 
 For of all learn'd themes whatever, 
 
 That schools and colleges deliver, 
 
 There 's none they love so near the bodies, 
 
 As analyzing their own noddles ; 
 
 Thus in a trice each northern blockhead 
 
 Had got his fingers in his shock head, 
 
 And of his bumps was babbling yet worse 
 
 Than poor Miss Capulet's dry wet-nurse ; 
 
 Till having been sufficient rangers 
 
 Of their own heads, they took to strangers'. 
 
 And found in Presbyterians' polls 
 
 The things they hated in their souls ; 
 
 For Presbyterians hear with passion 
 
 Of organs join'd with veneration. 
 
 No kind there was of human pumpkin 
 
 But at its bumps it had a bumpkin ; 
 
 Down to the very lowest gullion, 
 
 And oiliest scull of oily scullion. 
 
 No great man died but this they did do, 
 
 They begg'd his cranium of his widow : 
 
 No murderer died by law disaster, 
 
 But they took off his sconce in plaster ; 
 
 For thereon they could show depending, 
 
 " The head and front of his offending : " 
 
 How that his philanthropic bump 
 
 Was master'd by a baser lump ; 
 
 For every bump (these wags insist) 
 
 Has its direct antagonist, 
 
 Each striving stoutly to prevail, 
 
 Like horses knotted tail to tail ! 
 
 And many a stiff and sturdy battle 
 
 Occurs between these adverse cattle, 
 
 The secret cause, beyond all question, 
 
 Of aches ascribed to indigestion, — 
 
 Whereas 'tis but two knobby rivals 
 
 Tugging together like sheer devils,
 
 CRAAIOLOGY. 251 
 
 Till one gets mastery, good or sinister, 
 And comes in like a new prime-minister. 
 
 Each bias in some master nod is : — 
 What takes M'Adam where a road is, 
 To hammer little peebles less 1 
 His organ of Destructiveness. 
 What makes great Joseph so encumber 
 Debate ? a lumping lump of Number : 
 Or Malthus rail at babies so 1 
 The smallness of his Philopro. 
 What severs man and wife 1 a simple 
 Defect of the Adhesive pimple : 
 Or makes weak women go astray 1 
 Their bumps are more in fault than they. 
 
 These facts being found and set in order 
 
 By grave M.D.s beyond the Border, 
 
 To make them for some few months eternal, 
 
 Were enter'd monthly in a journal, 
 
 That many a northern sage still writes in, 
 
 And throws his little Northern Lights in, 
 
 And proves and proves about the phreuos, 
 
 A great deal more than I or he knows : 
 
 How Music suffers, par exemple, 
 
 By wearing tight hats round the temple ; 
 
 What ills great boxers have to fear 
 
 From blisters put behind the ear ; 
 
 And how a porter's Veneration 
 
 Ts hurt by porter's occupation ; 
 
 Whether shillelaghs in reality 
 
 May deaden individuality ; 
 
 Or tongs and poker be creative 
 
 Of alterations in th' Amative ; 
 
 If falls from scaffolds make us less 
 
 Inclined to all Constructiveness : 
 
 With more such matters, all applying 
 
 To heads — and therefore headlining.
 
 2^2 
 
 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 " Honour calls him to the tiold." 
 
 AN AFFAIR OF HONOUR. 
 
 ND those were the only duels," concluded the major, 
 " that ever I fought in my life." 
 
 Now the major reminded me strongly of an old 
 boatman at Hastings, who, after a story of a swimmer that 
 was snapped asunder by a "sea attorney" in the West Indies, 
 made an end in the same fashion : — " And that was the only 
 time," said he, " I ever saw a man bit in two by a shark." 
 
 A single occurrence of the kind seemed sufficient for the 
 experience of one life ; and so I reasoned upon the major's 
 nine duels. He must, in the first place, have been not only 
 jealous and swift to quarrel ; but, in the second, have met 
 with nine intemperate spirits equally forward with himself. 
 It is but in one affront out of ten that the duellist meets with
 
 AN AFFAIR OF HONOUR. 253 
 
 a duellist : a computation assigning ninety mortal disagree- 
 ments to Iris single share ; whereas I, with equal irritability, 
 and as much courage perhaps, had never exchanged a card in 
 my life. The subject occupied me all the walk homeward 
 through the meadows. " To get involved in nine duels," said 
 I ; " 'tis quite improbable ! " 
 
 As I thought thus, I had thrust my body halfway under a 
 rough bar that was doing duty for a stile at one end of a field. 
 It was just too high to climb comfortably, and just low enough 
 to be inconvenient to duck under ; but I chose the latter mode, 
 and began to creep through with the deliberateness consistent 
 with doubtful and intricate speculation. " To get involved 
 in nine duels" — here my back hitched a little at the bar — "'tis 
 quite impossible." 
 
 I am persuaded that there is a spirit of mischief afoot in 
 the world — some malignant fiend to seize upon and direct 
 these accidents : for just at this nick, whilst I was boggling 
 below the bar, there came up another passenger by the same 
 path : so seeing how matters stood, he made an attempt at 
 once to throw his leg over the impediment ; but mistaking 
 the altitude by a few inches, he kicked me — where I had never 
 been kicked before. 
 
 " By Heaven ! this is too bad," said I, staggering through 
 head foremost from the concussion ; my back was up, in every 
 sense, in a second. 
 
 The stranger apologised in the politest terms — but with 
 such an intolerable chuckle, with such a provoking grin lurk- 
 ing about his face, that I felt fury enough, like Beatrice, to 
 " eat his heart in the market-place." In short, in two little 
 minutes, from venting my conviction upon duelling, I found 
 myself engaged to a meeting for the vindication of my 
 honour. 
 
 There is a vivid description in the History of Bobinson 
 Crusoe, of the horror of the solitary Mariner at finding the 
 mark of a foot in the sandy beach of his Desert Island. That 
 abominable token, in a place that he fancied was sacred to 
 himself — in a part, he made sure, never trodden by the sole
 
 254 
 
 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 of man — haunted him wherever he went. So did mine. I 
 bore about with me the same ideal imprint — to be washed out, 
 not by the ocean brine, but with blood ! 
 
 As I walked homeward after this adventure, and reflected 
 on my former opinions, I felt that I had done the gallant 
 major an injustice. It seemed likely that a man of his pro- 
 fession might be called out even to the ninth time — nay, that 
 men of the peaceful cloth might, on a chance, be obliged to 
 have recourse' to mortal combat. 
 
 As for Gentleman at the Bar, I have shown how they may 
 get into an Affair of Honour in a twinkling. 
 
 A Special Pleader.
 
 A PARTHIAN GLANCE. 
 
 255 
 
 A Retrospective Review. 
 
 A PARTHIAN GLANCE. 
 
 " Sweet Memory, wafted by thy gentle gale, 
 Oft up the stream of time I turn my sail." 
 
 — Rogers. 
 
 OME, my Crony, let 's think upon far-away days, 
 
 And lift up a little Oblivion's veil ; 
 Let 's consider the past with a lingering gaze, 
 Like a peacock whose eyes arc inclined to his tail.
 
 256 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 IT. 
 
 Ay, come, let us turn our attention behind, 
 
 Like those critics whose heads are so heavy, I fear, 
 
 That they cannot keep up with the march of the mind, 
 And so turn face about for reviewing the rear. 
 
 in. 
 Looking over Time's crupper and over his tail, 
 
 Oh ! what ages and pages there are to revise ! 
 And as farther our back-searching glances prevail, 
 
 Like the emmets, " how little we are in our eyes ! " 
 
 IV. 
 
 What a sweet prett}*- innocent, half-a-yard long, 
 
 On a dimity lap of true nursery make ! 
 I can fancy I hear the old lullaby song 
 
 That was meant to compose me, but kept me awake. 
 
 v. 
 Methinks I still suffer the infantine throes, 
 
 When my flesh was a cushion for any long pin — 
 Whilst they patted my body to comfort my woes, 
 
 Oh ! how little they dreamt they were driving them in ! 
 
 VI. 
 
 Infant sorrows are strong — infant pleasures as weak — 
 But no grief was allow'd to indulge in its note ; 
 
 Did you ever attempt a small " bubble and squeak," 
 Thro' the Dalby's Carminative down in your throat ] 
 
 VII. 
 
 Did you ever go up to the roof with a bounce 1 
 
 Did you ever come down to the floor with the same ? 
 
 Oh ! I can't but agree with both ends, and pronounce 
 " Head or tails " with a child, an unpleasantish game ! 
 
 vm. 
 Then an urchin — I see myself urchin, indeed, 
 
 With a smooth Sunday face for a mother's delight ;
 
 A PARTHIAN GLANCE. 257 
 
 Why should weeks have an end ? — I am sure there was need 
 Of a Sabbath to follow each Saturday-night. 
 
 IX. 
 
 Was your face ever sent to the housemaid to scrub ? 
 
 Have you ever felt huckaback soften'd with sand ] 
 Had you ever your nose towell'd up to a snub, 
 
 And your eyes knuckled out with the back of the hand % 
 
 x. 
 
 Then a school-boy — my tailor was nothing in fault, 
 For an urchin will grow to a lad by degrees, — 
 
 But how Avell I remember that " pepper and salt," 
 That was down to the elbows, and up to the knees ! 
 
 XI. 
 
 Wiiat a figure it cut when as Nerval I spoke : 
 With u lanky right leg duly planted before ; 
 
 Whilst I told of the chief that was kill'd by my stroke, 
 And extended my arms as " the arms that he wore ! " 
 
 XII. 
 
 Next a Lover — Oh ! say, were you ever in love % 
 With a lady too cold — and your bosom too hot ! 
 
 Have you bow'd to a shoe-tie, and knelt to a glove 1 
 Like a beau that desired to be tied in a knot 1 
 
 XIII. 
 
 With the Bride all in white, and your body in blue, 
 Did you walk up the aisle — the genteelest of men 1 
 
 When I think of that beautiful vision anew, 
 Oh ! I seem but the biffin of what I was then ! 
 
 XIV. 
 
 I am wither'd and worn by a premature care, 
 
 And my wrinkles confess the decline of my days ; 
 
 Old Time's busy hand has made free with my hair, 
 And I 'm seeking to hid it — by writing for bays.
 
 258 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 A SAILOR'S APOLOGY FOR BOW-LEGS. 
 
 HERE'S some is born with their legs straight by natur — 
 And some is born with bow-legs from the first — 
 And some that should have grow'd a good deal 
 straighter, 
 
 But they were badly nursed, 
 And set, you see, like Bacchus, with their pegs 
 
 Astride of casks and kesjs. 
 I 've got myself a sort of bow to larboard 
 
 And starboard, 
 And this is what it was that warp'd my legs : — 
 
 'Twas all along of Poll, as I may say, 
 That foul'd my cable when I ought to slip ; 
 
 But on the tenth of May, 
 
 When I gets under weigh, 
 Down there in Hartfordshire, to join my ship, 
 
 I sees the mail 
 
 Get under sail, 
 The only one there was to make the trip. 
 
 Well, I gives chase, 
 
 But as she run 
 
 Two knots to one, 
 There warn't no use in keeping on the race ! 
 
 Well, casting round about, what next to try on, 
 
 And how to spin, 
 I spies an ensign with a Bloody Lion, 
 And bears away to leeward for the inn, 
 
 Beats round the gable,
 
 A SAILOR'S APOLOGY FOR BOW-LEGS. 259 
 
 And fetches up before the coach-horse stable. 
 Well, there they stand, four kickers in a row, 
 
 And so 
 I just makes free to cut a brown 'un's cable. 
 But riding isn't in a seaman's natur ; 
 So I whips out a toughish end of yarn, 
 And gets a kind of sort of a land-waiter 
 
 To splice me, heel to heel, 
 
 Under the she-mare's keel, 
 And off I goes, and leaves the inn a-starn ! 
 
 My eyes ! how she did pitch ! 
 And wouldn't keep her own to go in no line, 
 Tho' I kept bowsing, bowsing at her bow-line, 
 But always making lee-way to the ditch, 
 And yaw'd her head about all sorts of ways. 
 
 The devil sink the craft ! 
 And wasn't she trimendous slack in stays ! 
 We couldn't, no how, keep the inn abaft ! 
 
 Well, I suppose 
 We hadn't run a knot — or much beyond — 
 (What will you have on it 1) — but off she goes, 
 Up to her bends in a fresh-water pond ! 
 
 There I am ! all a-back ! 
 So I looks forward for her bridle-gears, 
 To heave her head round on the t'other tack ; 
 
 But when I starts, 
 
 The leather parts, 
 And goes away right over by the ears ! 
 
 What could a fellow do, 
 Whose legs, like mine, you know, were in the bilboes, 
 But trim myself upright for bringing-to, 
 And square his yard-arms, and brace up his elbows, 
 
 In rig all snug and clever, 
 Just while his craft was taking in her water 1 
 I didn't like my burth though, howsomdever.
 
 260 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 Because the yarn, you see, kept getting taughtcr. 
 Says 1 — I wish this job was rayther shorter ! 
 
 The chase had gain'd a mile 
 A-head, and still the she-mare stood a-drinking : 
 
 Now, all the while 
 Her body didn't take, of course, to shrinking. 
 Says I, she 's letting out her reefs, I 'm thinking ; 
 
 And so she swell'd, and swell'd, 
 
 And yet the tackle held, 
 'Till both my legs began to bend like winkin. 
 My eyes ! but she took in enough to founder ! 
 And there 's my timbers straining every bit, 
 
 Ready to split, 
 And her tarnation hull a-growing rounder ! 
 
 Well, there — off Hartford Ness, 
 We lay both lash'd and water-logg'd together, 
 
 And can't contrive a signal of distress. 
 Thinks I, we must ride out this here foul w r eather, 
 Tho' sick of riding out, and nothing less ; 
 Wiien, looking round, I sees a man a-starn : 
 " Hollo ! " says I, " come underneath her quarter ! " 
 And hands him out my knife to cut the yarn. 
 So I gets off, and lands upon the road, 
 And leaves the she-mare to her own consarn, 
 
 A-standing by the water. 
 If I get on another, I '11 be blow'd ! 
 And that 's the way, you see, my legs got bow'd !
 
 ' « NO THING BUT HEAR TS. : 
 
 261 
 
 "She is all heart." 
 
 " NOTHING BUT HEARTS ! " 
 
 T must have been the lot of every whist-player to 
 observe a phenomenon at the card-table, as myste- 
 rious as any in nature, — I mean the constant recurrence 
 of a certain trump throughout the night — a run upon a par- 
 ticular suit, that sets all the calculations of Hoyle and Cocker 
 at defiance. The chance of turning-up is equal to the Four 
 
 R
 
 262 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 Denominations. They should alternate with each other, on 
 the average ; whereas a Heart, perhaps, shall be the last card 
 of every deal. King or Queen, Ace or Deuce, still it is of 
 the same clan. You cut — and it comes again. "Nothing 
 but Hearts ! " 
 
 The figure herewith might be fancied to embody this kind 
 of occurrence ; and, in truth, it was designed to commemorate 
 an evening dedicated to the same red suit. I had looked in 
 by chance at the Royal Institution : a Mr Professor Pattison, 
 of New York, I believe, was lecturing, and the subject was — 
 " Nothing but Hearts ! " 
 
 Some hundreds of grave, curious, or scientific personages 
 were ranged on the benches of the theatre ; — every one in his 
 solemn black. On a table in front of the Professor, stood the 
 specimens : hearts of all shapes and sizes — man's, woman's, 
 sheep's, bullock's — on platters or in cloths — were lying about 
 as familiar as household wares. Drawings of hearts, in black 
 or blood-red, (dismal valentines !) hung around the fearful 
 walls. Preparations of the organ, in wax or bottled, passed 
 currently from hand to hand, from eye to eye, and returned 
 m the gloomy table. It was like some solemn Egyptian In- 
 quisition — a looking into dead men's hearts for their morals. 
 
 The Professor began. Each after each he displayed the 
 samples; the words "auricle" and "ventricle" falling fre- 
 quently on the ear as he explained how those " solemn organs" 
 pump in the human breast. He showed, by experiments 
 with water, the operation of the valves with the blood, and 
 the impossibility of its revulsion. As he spoke, an inde- 
 scribable thrilling or tremor crept over my left breast — thence 
 down my side — and all over. I felt an awful consciousness 
 of the bodily presence of my heart, till then nothing more 
 than it is in song — a mere metaphor— so imperceptible are all 
 the grand vital workings of the human frame ! Now I felt 
 the organ distinctly. There it was ! — a fleshy core — aye, like 
 that on the Professor's plate — throbbing away, auricle, and 
 ventricle, the valve allowing the gushing blood at so many 
 gallons per minute, and ever prohibiting its return !
 
 " NOTHING BUT HEARTS." 263 
 
 The Professor proceeded to enlarge on the important office 
 of the great functionary, and the vital engine seemed to dilate 
 within me, in proportion to the sense of its stupendous 
 responsibility. I seemed nothing but auricle, and ventricle, 
 and valve. I had no breath, but only pulsations. Those 
 who have been present at anatomical discussions can alone 
 corroborate this feeling — how the part discoursed of, by a 
 surpassing sympathy and sensibility, causes its counterpart to 
 become prominent and all-engrossing to the sense ; how a 
 lecture on hearts makes a man seem to himself as all heart ; 
 or one on heads causes a Phrenologist to conceive he is " all 
 brain." 
 
 Thus was I absorbed : — my " bosom's lord " lording over 
 everything beside. By and bye, in lieu of one solitary 
 machine, I saw before me a congregation of hundreds of 
 human forcing pumps, all awfully working together — the 
 palpitations of hundreds of auricles and ventricles, the 
 flapping of hundreds of valves ! And anon they collapsed — 
 mine — the Professor's— those on the benches — all ! all ! — into 
 one great auricle— one great ventricle — one vast universal 
 heart ! 
 
 The lecture ended — I took up my hat and walked out, but 
 the discourse haunted me. I was full of the subject. A kind of 
 fluttering, which was not to be cured even by the fresh air, gave 
 me plainly to understand that my heart was not " in the 
 Highlands," — nor in any lady's keeping — but where it ought 
 to be, in my own bosom, and as hard at work as a parish 
 pump. I plainly felt the blood — like the carriages on a birth- 
 night — coming in by the auricle, and going out by the ven- 
 tricle ; and shuddered to fancy what must ensue either way, 
 from any "breaking the line.'' Then occurred to me the 
 danger of little particles absorbed in the blood, and accumu- 
 lating to a stoppage at the valve, — the " pumps getting 
 choked," — a suggestion that made me feel rather qualmish, 
 
 and for relief I made a call on Mrs W . The visit was 
 
 ill-chosen and mistimed ; for the lady in question, by dint of 
 good-nature, and a romantic turn — principally estimated by
 
 264 
 
 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 her young and female acquaintance — had acquired the repu- 
 tation of being " all heart." The phrase had often provoked 
 my mirth, — but, alas ! the description was now over true. 
 Whether nature had formed her in that mould, or my own 
 distempered fancy, I know not — but there she sate, and 
 looked the Professor's lecture over again. She was like one 
 of those games alluded to in my beginning — "Nothing but 
 Hearts ! " Her nose turned up. It was a heart — and her 
 mouth led a trump. Her face gave a heart — and her cap 
 followed suit. Her sleeves puckered and plumped themselves 
 into a heart-shape — and so did her body. Her pincushion 
 was a heart — the very back of her chair was a heart — her 
 bosom was a heart. She was " all heart " indeed !
 
 JACK HALL. 
 
 265 
 
 Death's door. 
 
 JACK HALL. 
 
 1. 
 
 IS very hard, when men forsake 
 This melancholy world, and make 
 A bed of turf, they cannot take 
 A quiet doze, 
 But certain rogues will come and break 
 Their " bone repose." 
 
 11. 
 
 'Tis hard we can't give up our breath, 
 And to the earth our earth bequeath,
 
 266 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 Without Death Fetches after death, 
 
 Who thus exhume us ! 
 
 And snatch us from our homes beneath, 
 
 And hearths posthumous. 
 
 in. 
 
 The tender lover comes to rear 
 
 The mournful urn, and shed his tear — 
 
 " Her glorious dust," he cries, " is here ! " 
 
 Alack ! alack ! 
 The while his Sacharissa dear 
 
 Is in a sack ! 
 
 IV. 
 
 ; Tis hard one cannot lie amid 
 The mould, beneath a coffin-lid, 
 But thus the Faculty will bid 
 
 Their rogues break thro' it ! 
 If they don't want us there, why did 
 
 They send us to it 1 
 
 v. 
 
 One of these sacrilegious knaves, 
 Who crave as hungry vulture craves, 
 Behaving as the goul behaves, 
 
 'Neath churchyard wall — 
 Mayhap because he fed on graves, 
 
 Was named Jack Hall. 
 
 VI. 
 
 By day it was his trade to go 
 Tending the black coach to and fro ; 
 And sometimes at the door of woe, 
 
 With emblems suitable, 
 He stood with brother Mute, to show 
 
 That life is mutable.
 
 JACK HALL. 267 
 
 VII. 
 
 But long before they pass'd the ferry, 
 The dead that he had help'd to bury 
 He sack'd — (he had a sack to carry 
 
 The bodies off in ;) 
 In fact, he let them have a very 
 
 Short fit of coffin. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Night after night, with crow and spade, 
 He drove this dead but thriving trade, 
 Meanwhile his conscience never weigh'd 
 
 A single horsehair ; 
 On corses of all kinds he prey'd, 
 
 A perfect corsair ! 
 
 IX. 
 
 At last— it may be, Death took spite, 
 Or jesting, only meant to fright — 
 He sought for Jack night after night 
 
 The churchyards round ; 
 And soon they met, the man and sprite, 
 
 In Pancras' ground. 
 
 s. 
 
 Jack, by the glimpses of the moon, 
 Perceived the bony knacker soon, 
 An awful shape to meet at noon 
 
 Of night and lonely ; 
 But Jack's ' mgh courage did but swoon 
 
 A minute only. 
 
 XI. 
 
 Anon he gave his spade a swing 
 Aloft, and kept it brandishing,
 
 268 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 Ready for what mishaps might spring 
 
 From this conjunction ; 
 
 Funking indeed was quite a thing 
 
 Beside his function. 
 
 XII. 
 
 " Hollo ! " cried Death, " d'ye wish your sands 
 Run out 1 the stoutest never stands 
 A chance with me, — to my commands 
 
 The strongest truckles ; 
 But I 'm your friend — so let 's shake hands, 
 
 I should say — knuckles." 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Jack, glad to see th' old sprite so sprightly, 
 And meaning nothing but uprightly, 
 Shook hands at once, and bowing slightly, 
 
 His mull did proffer : 
 But Death, who had no nose, politely 
 
 Declined the offer. 
 
 xiv. 
 
 Then sitting down upon a bank, 
 Leg over leg, shank over shank, 
 Like friends for conversation frank, 
 
 That had no check on : 
 Quoth Jack unto the Lean and Lank, 
 
 "You're Death, I reckon." 
 
 xv. 
 
 The Jaw-bone grinn'd : — "I am that same, 
 You 've hit exactly on my name ; 
 In truth it has some little fame 
 
 Where burial sod is." 
 Quoth Jack, (and wink'd), " Of course ye came 
 
 Here after bodies."
 
 JACK HALL. 269 
 
 XVI. 
 
 Death grinn'd again and shook his head : — 
 " I Ve little business with the dead ; 
 When they are fairly sent to bed 
 
 I 've done my turn : 
 Whether or not the worms are fed 
 
 Is your concern. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 " My errand here, in meeting you, 
 Is nothing but a ' how-d'ye do ;' 
 I 've done what jobs I had — a few 
 
 Along this way ; 
 If I can serve a crony too, 
 
 I beg you '11 say." 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 Quoth Jack, " Your Honour 's very kind : 
 And now I call the thing to mind, 
 This parish very strict I find ; 
 
 But in the next 'un 
 There lives a very well-inclined 
 
 Old sort of sexton." 
 
 XIX. 
 
 Death took the hint, and gave a wink 
 As well as eyelet holes can blink ; 
 Then stretching out his arm to link 
 
 The other's arm, — 
 "Suppose," says he, " we have a drink 
 
 Of something warm. 
 
 xx. 
 
 Jack nothing loth, with friendly ease 
 Spoke up at once : — "Why, what ye please;
 
 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 Hard by there is the Cheshire Cheese, 
 A famous tap." 
 
 But this suggestion seem'd to tease 
 The bony chap. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 "No, no ! — your mortal drinks are heady, 
 And only make my hand unsteady ; 
 I do not even care for Deady, 
 
 And loathe your rum ; 
 But I 've some glorious brewage ready, 
 
 My drink is — mum ! " 
 
 XXII. 
 
 And off they set, each right content — 
 Who knows the dreary way they went 1 
 But Jack felt rather faint and spent, 
 
 And out of breath ; 
 At last he saw, quite evident, 
 
 The Door of Death. 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 All other men had been unmann'd 
 To see a coffin on each hand, 
 That served a skeleton to stand 
 
 By way of sentry ; 
 In fact, Death has a very grand 
 
 And awful entry. 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 Throughout his dismal sign prevails, 
 His name is writ in coffin nails ; 
 The mortal darts make area rails ; 
 
 A scull that mocketh 
 Grins on the gloomy gate, and quails 
 
 Whoever knocketh.
 
 JACK HALL. 271 
 
 XXV. 
 
 And lo ! on either side, arise 
 
 Two monstrous pillars — bones of thighs ; 
 
 A monumental slab supplies 
 
 The step of stone, 
 Where waiting for his master lies. 
 
 A dog of bone. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 The dog leapt up, but gave no yell, 
 The wire was pull'd, but woke no bell, 
 The ghastly knocker rose and fell, 
 
 But caused no riot ; 
 The ways of Death, we all know well, ( 
 
 Are very quiet. 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 Old Bones stept in ; Jack stepp'd behind : 
 Quoth Death, "I really hope you'll find 
 The entertainment to you mind, 
 
 As I shall treat ye — 
 A friend or two of goblin kind 
 
 I 've asked to meet ye." 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 And lo ! a crowd of spectres tall, 
 Like jack-a-lanterns on a wall, 
 Were standing — every ghastly ball 
 
 An eager watcher. 
 " My friends," says Death—" friends, Mr Hall, 
 
 The body-snatcher." 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 Lord ! what a tumult it produced, 
 When Mr Hall was introduced !
 
 272 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 Jack even, who had long been used 
 
 To frightful things, 
 
 Felt just as if his back was sluiced 
 
 With freezing springs ! 
 
 XXX. 
 
 Each goblin face began to make 
 
 Some horrid mouth — ape — gorgon — snake ; 
 
 And then a spectre hag would shake 
 
 An airy thigh-bone ; 
 And cried, (or seem'd to cry,) I'll break 
 
 Your bone, with my bone ! 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 Some ground their teeth — some seem'd to spit — 
 (Nothing, but nothing came of it ; ) 
 A hundred awful brows were knit 
 
 In dreadful spite. 
 Thought Jack — I 'm sure I 'd better quit, 
 
 Without good-night. 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 One skip and hop and he was clear, 
 And running like a hunted deer, 
 As fleet as people run by fear 
 
 Well spurr'd and whipp'd, 
 Death, ghosts, and all in that career 
 
 Were quite outstripp'd. 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 But those who live by death must die ; 
 Jack's soul at last prepared to fly ; 
 And when his latter end drew nigh, 
 
 Oh ! what a swarm 
 Of doctors came, — but not to try 
 
 To keep him warm.
 
 JACK HALL. 273 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 No ravens ever scented prey 
 So early where a dead horse lay, 
 Nor vultures sniff 'd so far away 
 
 A last convulse : 
 A dozen " guests " day after day 
 
 "Were " at his pulse." 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 'Twas strange, altho' they got no fees, 
 How still they watch'd by twos and threes : 
 But Jack a very little ease 
 
 Obtain'd from them ; 
 In fact, he did not find M.D.s 
 
 Worth one D— M. 
 
 xxxvi. 
 
 The passing bell with hollow toll 
 Was in his thought — the dreary hole ! 
 Jack gave his eyes a horrid roll, 
 
 And then a cough. 
 " There 's something weighing on my soul 
 
 I wish was off : 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 " All night it roves about my brains, 
 All day it adds to all my pains ; 
 It is concerning my remains 
 
 When I am dead." 
 Twelve wigs and twelve gold-headed canes 
 
 Drew near his bed. 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 
 " Alas ! " he sigh'd, " I 'm sore afraid, 
 A dozen pangs my heart invade ;
 
 274 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 But when I drove a certain trade 
 In flesh and bone, 
 
 There was a little bargain made 
 About my own." 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 Twelve suits of black began to close, 
 Twelve pairs of sleek and sable hose, 
 Twelve flowing cambric frills in rows, 
 
 At once drew round ; 
 Twelve noses turn'd against his nose, 
 
 Twelve snubs profound. 
 
 XL. 
 
 " Ten guineas did not quite suffice, 
 And so I sold my body twice ; 
 Twice did not do — I sold it thrice : 
 
 Forgive my crimes ! 
 In short, I have received its price 
 
 A dozen times ! " 
 
 XLI. 
 
 Twelve brows got very grim and black, 
 Twelve wishes stretclvd him on the rack, 
 Twelve pairs of hands for fierce attack 
 
 Took up position, 
 Ready to share the dying Jack 
 
 By long division. 
 
 XLII. 
 
 Twelve angry doctors wrangled so, 
 That twelve had struck an hour ago, 
 Before they had an eye to throw 
 
 On the departed ; 
 Twelve heads turn'd round at once, and lo ! 
 
 Twelve doctors started.
 
 JACK HALL. 
 
 275 
 
 XLIII. 
 
 Whether some comrade of the dead, 
 
 Or Satan took it in his head, 
 
 To steal the corpse — the corpse had fled ! 
 
 'Tis only written, 
 That " there was nothing in the bed, 
 
 But twelve were bitten ! "
 
 276 
 
 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 A Hard Eow. 
 
 THE WEE MAN. 
 
 A ROMANCE. 
 
 T was a merry company, 
 
 And they were just afloat, 
 When lo ! a man, of dwarfish span, 
 Came up and hail'd the boat. 
 
 " Good morrow to ye, gentle folks, 
 And will you let me in 1 
 
 A slender space will serve my case, 
 For I am small and tbin."
 
 THE WEE MAN. 277 
 
 They saw be was a dwarfish man, 
 
 And very small and thin ; 
 Not seven such would matter much, 
 
 And so they took him in. 
 
 They laugh'cl to see his little hat, 
 
 With such a narrow brim ; 
 They laugh'd to note his dapper coat, 
 
 With skirts so scant and trim. 
 
 But barely had they gone a mile, 
 
 When, gravely, one and all, 
 At once began to think the man 
 
 Was not so very small : 
 
 His coat had got a broader skirt, 
 
 His hat a broader brim, 
 His leg grew stout, and soon plump'd out 
 
 A very proper limb. 
 
 Still on they went, and as they went, 
 
 More rough the billows grew, 
 And rose and fell, a greater swell — 
 
 And he was swelling too ! 
 
 And lo ! where room had been for seven, 
 For six there scarce was space ! 
 
 For five ! — for four ! — for three ! — not more 
 Than two could find a place ! 
 
 There was not even room for one ! 
 
 They crowded by degrees — 
 Aye — closer yet, till elbows met, 
 
 And knees were jogging knees.
 
 278 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 " Good sir, you must not sit a-stern, 
 The wave will else come in ! " 
 
 Without a word he gravely stirr'd, 
 Another seat to win. 
 
 " Good sir, the boat has lost her trim, 
 
 You mast not sit a-lee !" 
 With smiling face, and courteous grace, 
 
 The middle seat took he. 
 
 But still, by constant quiet growth, 
 His back became so wide, 
 
 Each neighbour wight, to left and right, 
 Was thrust against the side. 
 
 Lord ! how they chided with themselves, 
 That they had let him in ; 
 
 To see him grow so monstrous now, 
 That came so small and thin. 
 
 On every brow a dew-drop stood, 
 They grew so scared and hot, — 
 
 " I' the name of all that 's great and tall, 
 Who are ye, sir, and what 1 " 
 
 Loud laughed the Gogmagog, a laugh 
 
 As loud as giant's roar — 
 " When first 1 came, my proper name 
 
 Was Little — now I'm Moore/"
 
 PYTHAGOREAN FANCIES. 
 
 279 
 
 Perm's Conference with the Natives. 
 
 PYTHAGOREAN FANCIES. 
 
 r all creeds — after the Christian — I incline most to the 
 Pythagorean. I like the notion of inhabiting the 
 body of a bird. It is the next thing to being a 
 cherub — at least, according to the popular image of a boy's 
 head and wings ; a fancy that savours strangely of the Pytha- 
 gorean. 

 
 28o WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 I think nobly of the soul with Malvolio, but not so meanly 
 as he does, by implication, of a bird-body. What disparage- 
 ment would it seem to shuffle off a crippled, palsied, languid, 
 bed-ridden carcase, and find yourself floating above the world 
 — in a flood of sunshine — under the feathers of a Royal Eagle 
 of the Andes ? 
 
 For a beast-body I have less relish — and yet how many 
 men are there who seem predestined to such an occupancy, 
 being in this life even more than semi-brutal ! How many 
 human faces that at least countenance, if they do not confirm, 
 this part of the Brahminical Doctrine. What apes, foxes, 
 pigs, curs, and cats, walk our metropolis — to say nothing of 
 him shambling along Carnaby or Whitechapel — 
 
 A BUTCHER! 
 
 Whoe'er has gone thro' London Street, 
 Has seen a Butcher gazing at his meat, 
 And how he keeps 
 Gloating upon a sheep's 
 Or bullock's personals, as if his own ; 
 How he admnes his halves 
 And quarters— and his calves, 
 As if in truth upon his own legs grown ; — 
 
 His fat ! his suet ! 
 His kidneys peeping elegantly thro' it ! 
 His thick flank ! 
 And his thin ! 
 His shank ! 
 His shin ! 
 Skin of his skin, and bone too of his bone ! 
 
 With what an air 
 He stands aloof, across the thoroughfare 
 Gazing — and will not let a body by, 
 Tho' buy ! buy ! buy ! be constantly his cry.
 
 PYTHAGOREAN FANCIES. 2S1 
 
 Meanwhile with arms a-kimbo, and a pair 
 
 Of Rhodian legs, he revels in a stare 
 
 At his Joint Stock — for one may call it so, 
 
 Howbeit without a Co. 
 The dotage of self-love was never fonder 
 Than he of his brute bodies all a-row ; 
 Narcissus in the wave did never ponder 
 
 With love so strong, 
 
 On his "portrait charmant," 
 As our vain Butcher on his carcase yonder. 
 
 Look at his sleek round skull ! 
 How bright his cheek, how rubicund his nose is ! 
 
 His visage seems to be 
 
 Ptipe for beef -tea ; 
 Of brutal juices the whole man is full. 
 In fact, fulfilling the metempsychosis, 
 The Butcher is already half a Bull. 
 
 Surpassing the Butcher, in his approximation to the brute, 
 behold yon vagrant Hassan, a wandering camel-driver and 
 exhibitor, parading, for a few pence, the creature's outlandish 
 hump, yet burthened himself with a bunch of flesh between 
 the shoulders. For the sake of the implicit moral merely, or 
 as an illustration of comparative physiology, the show is 
 valuable ; but as an example of the Pythagorean dispensation, 
 it is above appraisement. The retributive metamorphosis has 
 commenced — the Beast has set his seal upon the Human Form 
 ■ — a little further, and he will be ready for a halter and a 
 showman. 
 
 As there are instances of men thus transmuting into the 
 brute, so there are brutes that, by peculiar human manners 
 and resemblance, seem to hint at a former and a better con- 
 dition. The ouran-outang and the monkey notoriously claim 
 this relationship ; and there are other tribes, and in particular 
 some which use the erect posture, that are apt to provoke
 
 282 
 
 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 such Pythagorean associations. For example, I could never 
 read of the great William Penn's interview with the American 
 savages, or look on the painting commemorative of that event, 
 without dreaming that I had seen it acted over again at the 
 meeting of a tribe of Kangaroos and a Penguin. The Kanga- 
 roos, sharp-sighted, vigilant, cunning, wild, swift, and active 
 as the Indians themselves ; the Penguin, very sleek, guiltless 
 <)f arms, very taciturn, very sedate, except when jumping j 
 
 Comparative Physiology. 
 
 upright in its conduct — a perfect Quaker. It confirmed me, 
 in this last fancy, to read of the conduct of these gentle birds 
 when assaulted, formerly, with long poles, by the seamen of 
 Captain Cook — buffetings which the Penguins took quietly on 
 either cheek, or side of the head, and died as meekly and 
 passively as the primitive Martyrs of the Sect ! 
 
 It is difficult to say to what excesses the desire of fresh 
 victual, after long salt junketing, may drive a mariner. For
 
 PYTHAGOREAN FANCIES. 
 
 283 
 
 my own part, I could not have handled a pole in that perse- 
 cution without strong Pythagorean misgivings. 
 
 There is a Juvenile Poem, " The Notorious Glutton," by 
 Miss Taylor of Ongar, in which a duck falls sick and dies in 
 a very human-like way. I could never eat duck for some 
 time after the perusal of those verses ; it seemed as if in 
 reality the soul of my grandam might inhabit such a bird. 
 In mere tenderness to past womanhood, I could never lay the 
 death-scene elsewhere than in a lady's chamber, with the body 
 of the invalid propped up by comfortable pillows on a nursery 
 chair. The sick attendant seemed one that had relished 
 drams aforetime — had been pompously officious at human 
 dissolutions, and would announce that " all was over I" with 
 the same flapping of paws and duck-like inflections of tone. 
 As for the Physician, he was an Ex-Quack of our own kind, 
 just called in from the pond — a sort of Man-Drake, and 
 formerly a brother by nature, as now by name, of the author 
 of "Winter Nights." 
 
 The Last Visit.
 
 2S 4 
 
 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 
 " DON'T \K)U SMELL FIRE 
 
 i. 
 
 UN ! run for St Clement's engine ! 
 For the Pawnbroker 'a all in a blaze, 
 And the pledges are frying and singeing- 
 Oh ! how the poor pawners will craze !
 
 " DON T YOU SMELL FIRE. " 285 
 
 Now where can the turncock be drinking 1 
 
 Was there ever so thirsty an elf 1 
 But he still may tope on, for I 'm thinking 
 
 That the plugs are as dry as himself. 
 
 11. 
 
 The engines ! I hear them come rumbling ; 
 
 There 's the Phoenix ! the Globe ! and the Sun ! 
 What a row there will be, and a grumbling, 
 
 When the water don't start for a run ! 
 See ! there they come racing and tearing, 
 
 All the street with loud voices is fill'd ; 
 Oh ! it's only the firemen a-swearing 
 
 At a man they 've run over and kill'd ! 
 
 in. 
 
 How sweetly the sparks fly away now, 
 
 And twinkle like stars in the sky. 
 It 's a wonder the engines don't play now ; 
 
 But I never saw water so shy ! 
 Why there isn't enough for a snipe, 
 
 And the fire it is fiercer, alas ! 
 Oh ! instead of the New Elver pipe, 
 
 They have gone — that they have — to the gas ! 
 
 IV. 
 
 Only look at the poor little P 's 
 
 On the roof. Is there anything sadder 1 
 My dears, keep fast hold, if you please, 
 
 And they won't be an hour with the ladder ! 
 But if any one 's hot in their feet, 
 
 And in very great haste to be saved, 
 Here 's a nice easy bit in the street, 
 
 That M'Adam has lately unpaved !
 
 2§6 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 There is some one — I see a dark shape 
 
 At that window, the hottest of all, — 
 My good woman, why don't you escape ? 
 
 Never think of your bonnet and shawl : 
 If your dress isn't perfect, what is it 
 
 For once in a way to your hurt 1 
 When your husband is paying a visit 
 
 There, at Number Fourteen, in his shirt ! 
 
 VI. 
 
 Only see how she throws out her chaney! 
 
 Her basons, and teapots, and all 
 The most brittle of her goods — or any, 
 
 But they all break in breaking their fall : 
 Such things are not surely the best 
 
 From a two-story window to throw — 
 She might save a good iron-bound chest, 
 
 For there 's plenty of people below ! 
 
 VII. 
 
 O dear ! what a beautiful flash ! 
 
 How it shone thro' the window and door ; 
 We shall soon hear a scream and a crash, 
 
 When the woman falls thro' with the floor ! 
 There ! there ! what a volley of flame, 
 
 And then suddenly all is obscured ! — 
 Well — I 'm glad in my heart that I came ; — 
 
 But I hope the poor man is insured !
 
 THE VOLUNTEER. 
 
 287 
 
 The Angel of Death. 
 
 THE VOLUNTEER. 
 
 " The clashing of my armour in my ears 
 
 Sounds like a passing bell ; my buckler puts me 
 In mind of a bier ; this, my broadsword, a pickaxe 
 To dig my grave." 
 
 — The Lover's Progress. 
 
 [WAS in that memorable year 
 France threaten'd to put off in 
 Flat-bottom'd boats, intending each 
 To be a British coffin, 
 To make sad widows of our wives, 
 And every babe an orphan : —
 
 288 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 II. 
 
 When coats were made of scarlet cloaks, 
 
 And heads were dredged with flour, 
 
 I listed in the Lawyers' Corps, 
 
 Against the battle hour; 
 
 A perfect Volunteer — for why ? 
 
 I brought my " will and power." 
 
 in. 
 
 One dreary day — a day of dread, 
 
 Like Cato's, over-cast — 
 
 About the hour of six, (the morn 
 
 And I were breaking fast,) 
 
 There came a loud and sudden sound, 
 
 That struck me all aghast ! 
 
 IV. 
 
 A dismal sort of morning roll, 
 That was not to be eaten : 
 Although it was no skin of mine, 
 But parchment that was beaten, 
 I felt tattoo'd through all my flesh, 
 Like any Otaheitan. 
 
 My jaws with utter dread inclosed 
 
 The morsel 1 was munching, 
 
 And terror lock'd them up so tight, 
 
 My very teeth went crunching 
 
 All through my bread and tongue at once, 
 
 Like sandwich made at lunching. 
 
 VI. 
 
 My hand that held the teapot fast, 
 Stiffen'd, but yet unsteady,
 
 THE VOLUNTEER. 289 
 
 Kept pouring, pouring, pouring o'er 
 The cup in one long eddy, 
 Till both my hose were raark'd with tea, 
 As they were mark'd already. 
 
 VII. 
 
 I felt my visage turn from red 
 To white — from cold to hot ; 
 But it was nothing wonderful 
 My colour changed, I wot, 
 For, like some variable silks, 
 I felt that I was shot. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 And looking forth with anxious eye, 
 From my snug upper story, 
 I saw our melancholy corps, 
 Going to beds all gory ; 
 The pioneer seem'd very loth 
 To axe their way to glorjr. 
 
 IX. 
 
 The captain march'd as mourners march, 
 The ensign too seem'd lagging, 
 And many more, although they were 
 No ensigns, took to flagging — 
 Like corpses in the Serpentine, 
 Methought they wanted dragging. 
 
 x. 
 
 But while I watch'd, the thought of death 
 
 Came like a chilly gust, 
 
 And lo ! I shut the window down, 
 
 With very little lust 
 
 To join so many marching men, 
 
 That soon might be March dust.
 
 290 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 XI. 
 
 Quoth 1, " Since Fate ordains it so, 
 
 Our foe the coast must land on ; " — 
 
 I felt so warm beside the fire 
 
 I cared not to abandon ; 
 
 Our hearths and homes are always things 
 
 That patriots make a stand on. 
 
 XII. 
 
 " The fools that fight abroad for home," 
 Thought I, " may get a wrong one ; 
 Let those that have no homes at all 
 Go battle for a long one." 
 The mirror here confirm' d me this 
 Reflection, by a strong one : 
 
 XIII. 
 
 For there, where I was wont to shave, 
 And deck me like Adonis, 
 There stood the leader of our foes, 
 With vultures for his cronies — 
 No Corsican, but Death himself, 
 The Bony of all Bonies. 
 
 xiv. 
 
 A horrid sight it was, and sad, 
 To see the grisly chap 
 Put on my crimson livery, 
 And then begin to clap 
 My helmet on — ah me I it felt 
 Like any felon's cap. 
 
 xv. 
 
 My plume seem'd borrow'd from a hearse, 
 An undertaker's crest ;
 
 THE VOLUNTEER. 291 
 
 My epaulettes like coffin-plateB ; 
 My belt so heavy press' d, 
 Four pipeclay cross-roads seem'd to lie 
 At once upon my breast. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 My brazen breastplate only lack'd 
 
 A little heap of salt, 
 
 To make me like a corpse full dress'd, 
 
 Preparing for the vault — 
 
 To set up what the Poet calls 
 
 My everlasting halt. 
 
 xvn. 
 
 This funeral show inclined me quite 
 
 To peace : — and here I am ! 
 
 Whilst better lions go to war, 
 
 Enjoying with the lamb 
 
 A lengthen'd life, that might have been 
 
 A martial epigram.
 
 292 
 
 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 Bride and Bridesmaid. 
 
 A MARRIAGE PROCESSION". 
 
 T lias never been my lot to marry, whatever I may have 
 written of one Honoria to the contrary. My affair 
 ss ^ gai with that lady never reached beyond a very embar- 
 rassing declaration, in return for which she breathed into my 
 dull, deaf ear an inaudible answer. It was beyond my slender 
 assurance, in those days, to ask for a repetition, whether of 
 acceptance or denial. 
 
 One chance for explanation still remained. I wrote to her 
 mother, to bespeak her sanction to our union, and received, by 
 return of post, a scrawl that, far aught I knew, might be in 
 Sanscrit. I question whether, even at this time, my intoler-
 
 A MARRIAGE PROCESSION. 
 
 293 
 
 able bash fulness would suffer me to press sucli a matter any- 
 farther. 
 
 My thoughts of matrimony are now confined to occasional 
 daydreams, originating in some stray glimpse in the Prayer 
 Book, or the receipt of bridecake. It was on some such oc- 
 currence that I fell once, Bunyan-like, into an allegory of a 
 wedding. 
 
 My fancies took the order of a procession. With flaunting 
 banners, it wound its Alexandrine way — in the manner of some 
 of Martin's painted pageants — to a taper spire in the distance. 
 And first, like a band of livery, came the honourable company 
 
 Joiners. 
 
 of Match-makers, all mature spinsters and matrons — and as 
 like aunts and mothers as may be. The Glovers trod closely 
 on their heels. Anon came, in blue and gold, the parish 
 beadle, Scarabeus Parochialis, with the ringers of the hand- 
 bells. Then came the Banns — it was during the rcisrn of Lord
 
 294 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 Eldon's Act — three sturdy pioneers, with their three axes, 
 and likely to hew down sterner impediments than lie com- 
 monly in the path of marriage. On coming nearer, the coun- 
 tenance of the first was right foolish and perplexed ; of the 
 second, simpering ; and the last, methought, looked sedate, 
 and as if dashed with a little fear. After the Banns, like the 
 judges following the halberts, came the Joiners : no rough 
 mechanics, but a portly, full-blown vicar,' with his clerk — 
 both rubicund — a peony paged by a pink. It made me smile 
 to observe the droll clerical turn of the clerk's beaver, scrubbed 
 into that fashion by his coat, at the nape. The marriage- 
 knot, borne by a ticket-porter, came after the divinej and 
 raised associations enough to sadden one, but for a pretty 
 Cupid that came on laughing and trundling a hoop-ring. 
 
 The next group was a numerous one, Firemen of the Hand- 
 in-Hand, with the Union flag — the chief actors were near. 
 With a mixture of anxiety and curiosity, I looked out for the 
 impending couple, when — how shall I tell it 1 — I beheld, not a 
 brace of young lovers, a Romeo and Juliet — not a " he-moon 
 here, and a she-sun there " — not bride and bridegroom, but 
 the happy pear, a solitary Bergamy, carried on a velvet 
 cushion by a little foot-page. I could have foresworn my 
 fancy for ever for so wretched a conceit, till I remembered 
 that it was intended, perhaps, to typify, under that figure, the 
 mysterious resolution of two into one, a pair nominally, but 
 in substance single, which belongs to marriage. To make 
 amends, the high contracting parties approached in proper 
 person — a duplication sanctioned by the practice of the oldest 
 Masters in their historical pictures. It took a brace of Cupids, 
 with a halter, to overcome the " sweet reluctant delay " of 
 the Bride, and make her keep pace with the procession. She 
 was absorbed like a nun in her veil ; tears, too, she dropped, 
 large as sixpences, in her path ; but her attendant Bridesmaid 
 put on such a coquettish look, and tripped along so airily, 
 that it cured all suspicion of heartache in such maiden showers. 
 The Bridegroom, dressed for the Honeymoon, was ushered by 
 Hymen, a little link- boy ; and the imp used the same impor-
 
 A MARRIAGE PROCESSION. 
 
 295 
 
 trinity for his dues. The next was a motley crew. For 
 nuptial ode or Carmen, there walked two carters, or draymen, 
 with their whips ; a leash of footmen in livery indicated 
 Domestic Habits ; and Domestic Comfort was personated by 
 an ambulating advertiser of " Hot Dinners every day." 
 
 I forget whether the Bride's Character preceded or followed 
 her ; but it was a lottery placard, and blazoned her as One of 
 Ten Thousand. The parents of both families had a quiet 
 smile on their faces, hinting that their enjoyment was of a 
 retrospective cast ; and as for the six sisters of the bride, they 
 would have wept with her, but that six young gallants came 
 after them. The friends of the family were Quakers, and 
 seemed to partake of the happiness of the occasion in a very 
 quiet and Quaker-like way. I ought to mention that a band 
 of harmonious sweet music preceded the Happy Pair. There 
 was none came after — the veteran Townsend, with his con- 
 stables, to keep order, making up the rear of the Procession. 
 
 The Man in the Honeymoon.
 
 296 
 
 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 " Encompass'd in an angel's frame." 
 
 THE WIDOW. 
 
 PSK^NE widow at a crave will sob 
 XSjk A little while, and weep, and sign ! 
 If two should meet on such a job, 
 
 They '11 have a gossip by and by. 
 If three should come together — why, 
 Three widows are good company ! 
 If four should meet by any chance, 
 Four is a number very nice,
 
 THE WIDOW. 297 
 
 To have a rubber in a trice — 
 But five will up and have a dance ! 
 
 Poor Mrs C (why should I not 
 
 Declare her name 1 — her name was Cross) 
 
 Was one of those the " common lot " 
 
 Had left to wee}) " no common loss ; " — 
 
 For she had lately buried then 
 
 A man, the " very best of men," 
 
 A lingering truth, discover'd first 
 
 Whenever men " are at the worst." 
 
 To take the measure of her woe, 
 
 It was some dozen inches deep — 
 
 I mean in crape, and hung so low, 
 
 It hid the drops she did not weep : 
 
 In fact, what human life appears, 
 
 It was a perfect " veil of tears." 
 
 Though ever since she lost " her prop 
 
 And stay," — alas ! he wouldn't stay — 
 
 She never had a tear to mop, 
 
 Except one little angry drop 
 
 From Passion's eye, as Moore would say ; 
 
 Because, when Mister Cross took flight, 
 
 It look'd so very like a spite — 
 
 He died upon a washing-day ! 
 
 Still Widow Cross went twice a week, 
 
 As if "to wet a widow's cheek," 
 
 And soothe his grave with sorrow's gravy, — 
 
 'Twas nothing but a make-believe, 
 
 She might as well have hoped to grieve 
 
 Enough of brine to float a navy ; 
 
 And yet she often seem'd to raise 
 
 A cambric kerchief to her eye — 
 
 A duster ought to be the phrase, 
 
 Its work was all so very dry.
 
 2 9 3 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 The springs were lock'd that ought to flow — 
 In England or in widow-woman — 
 As those that watch the weather know, 
 Such " backward Springs " are not uncommon. 
 
 But why did Widow Cross take pains 
 
 To call upon the " dear remains," — 
 
 Remains that could not tell a jot 
 
 Whether she ever wept or not, 
 
 Or how his relict took her losses'? 
 
 Oh ! my black ink turns red for shame — 
 
 But still the naughty world must learn, 
 
 There was a little German came 
 
 To shed a tear in " Anna's Urn," 
 
 At the next grave to Mr Cross's ! 
 
 For there an angel's virtues slept, 
 
 " Too soon did Heaven assert its claim ! " 
 
 But still her painted face he kept, 
 
 " Encompass'd in an angel's frame." 
 
 He look'd quite sad and quite deprived, 
 
 His head was nothing but a hat-band ; 
 
 He look'd so lone, and so w?iwived, 
 
 That soon the Widow Cross contrived 
 
 To fall in love with even that band ; 
 
 And all at once the brackish juices 
 
 Came gushing out thro' sorrow's sluices — 
 
 Tear after tear too fast to wipe, 
 
 Tho' sopp'd, and sopp'd, and sopp'd again — 
 
 No leak in sorrow's private pipe, 
 
 But like a bursting on the main ! 
 
 Whoe'er has watch' d the window-pane — 
 
 I mean to say in showery weather — 
 
 Has seen two little drops of rain, 
 
 Like lovers verj fond and fain, 
 
 At one another creeping, creeping,
 
 THE WIDOW. 299 
 
 Till both, at last, embrace together : 
 So fared it with that couple's weeping ! 
 The principle was quite as active — 
 
 Tear unto tear 
 
 Kept drawing near, 
 Their very blacks became attractive. 
 To cut a shortish story shorter, 
 Conceive them sitting tete-a-tete — 
 Two cups, — hot muffins on a plate, — 
 With " Anna's Urn " to hold hot water ! 
 The brazen vessel for a while 
 Had lectured in an easy song, 
 Like Abernethy on the bile. 
 The scalded herb was getting strong ; 
 All seem'd as smooth as smooth could be, 
 To have a cosy cup of tea. 
 Alas ! how often human sippers 
 With unexpected bitters meet, 
 And buds, the sweetest of the sweet, 
 Like sugar, only meet the nippers ! 
 
 The Widow Cross, I should have told, 
 
 Had seen three husbands to the mould ; 
 
 She never sought an Indian pyre, 
 
 Like Hindoo wives that lose their loves ; 
 
 But, with a proper sense of fire, 
 
 Put up, instead, with " three removes." 
 
 Thus, when with any tender words 
 
 Or tears she spoke about her loss, 
 
 The dear departed Mr Cross 
 
 Came in for nothing but his thirds ; 
 
 For, as all widows love too well, 
 
 She liked upon the list to dwell, 
 
 And oft ripp'd up the old disasters. 
 
 She might, indeed, have been supposed 
 
 A great ship owner ; for she prosed 
 
 Eternally of her Three Masters !
 
 300 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 Thus, foolish woman ! while she nursed 
 
 Her mild souchong, she talk'd and reckon'd 
 
 What had been left her by her first, 
 
 And by her last, and by her second. 
 
 Alas ! not all her annual rents 
 
 Could then entice the little German, — 
 
 Not Mr Cross's Three per Cents, 
 
 Or Consols, ever make him he?- man. 
 
 He liked her cash, he liked her houses, 
 
 But not that dismal bit of land 
 
 She always settled on her spouses. 
 
 So taking up his hat and band, 
 
 Said he, " You '11 think my conduct odd — 
 
 But here my hopes no more may linger ; 
 
 I thought you had a wedding-finger, 
 
 But oh ! — it is a curtain-rod ! " 
 
 
 -
 
 A MAD DOG. 7.01 
 
 A MAD DOG 
 
 j,S none of my bug-bears. Of the bite of dogs, large onrs 
 especially, I have a reasonable dread ; but as to any 
 participation in the canine frenzy, I am somewhat 
 sceptical. The notion savours of the same fanciful supersti- 
 tion that invested the subjects of Dr Jenner with a pair of 
 horns. Such was affirmed to be the effect of the vaccine 
 matter ; and I shall believe what I have heard of the canine 
 virus, when I see a rabid gentleman, or gentlewoman, with 
 flap-ears, dew-claws, and a brush-tail ! 
 
 I lend no credit to the imputed effects of a mad dog's 
 saliva. We hear of none such amongst the West Indian 
 Negroes, and yet their condition is always slavery. 
 
 I put no faith in the vulgar stories of human beings betak- 
 ing themselves, through a dog-bite, to dog-habits ; and con- 
 sider the smotherings and drownings that have originated in 
 that fancy as cruel as the murders for witchcraft. Are we, 
 for a few yelpings, to stifle all the disciples of Loyola — 
 Jesuit's Bark — or plunge unto death all the convalescents 
 who may take to bark and wine 1 
 
 As for the Hydrophobia, or loathing of water, I have it 
 mildly myself. My head turns invariably at thin, washy 
 potations. With a dog, indeed, the case is different ; he is 
 a water-drinker ; and when he takes to grape-juice, or the 
 stronger cordials, may be dangerous. But I have never seen 
 one with a bottle — except at his tail. 
 
 There are other dogs who are born to haunt the liquid
 
 3 o2 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 element, to dive and swim — and for such to shun the lake 
 or the pond would look suspicious. A Newfoundlander, 
 standing up from a shower at a door-way, or a Spaniel with 
 a Parapluie, might be innocently destroyed. But when does 
 such a cur occur. 
 
 Hydrophobia. 
 
 There are persons, however, who lecture on Hydrophobia 
 very dogmatically. It is one of their maggots, that if a puppy 
 be not wormed, he is apt to go rabid. As if, forsooth, it made 
 so much difference, his merely speaking or not with what 
 Lord Duberly calls his " vermicular tongue." Verily, as 
 Izaak Walton would say, these gudgeons take the worm very 
 kindly ! 
 
 Next to an neglect of calling in Dr Gardner, want of water 
 is prone to drive a dog mad. A reasonable saying — but the 
 rest is not so plausible, viz., that if you keep a dog till he is 
 very dry, he will refuse to drink. It is a gross libel on the 
 human-like instinct of the animal, to suppose him to act so 
 clean contrary to human-kind. A crew of sailors, thirsting
 
 A MAD DOG. 303 
 
 at sea, will suck their pumps or the canvas — anything that 
 will afford a drop of moisture ; whereas a parching dog, in- 
 stead of cooling his tongue at the next gutter, or licking his 
 own kennel for imaginary relief, runs senselessly up and down 
 to over-heat himself, and resents the offer of a bucket like a 
 mortal affront. Away he scuds, straight forward like a mar- 
 mot, except when he dodges a pump. A glimmering instinct 
 guides him to his old haunts. He bites his ex-master ; grips 
 his trainer ; takes a snap with a friend or two where he used 
 to visit — and then biting right and left at the public, at last 
 dies — a pitchfork in his eye, fifty slugs in his ribs, and a spade 
 through the small of his back. 
 
 The career of the animal is but a type of his victim's ; 
 suppose some Bank Clerk. He was not bitten, but only 
 splashed on the hand by the mad foam or dog-spray ; a recent 
 flea-bite gives entrance to the virus, and in less than three 
 years it gets possession. Then the tragedy begins. The 
 unhappy gentleman first evinces uneasiness at being called on 
 for his New River rates. He answers the Collector snappishly, 
 and when summoned to pay for his supply of water, tells the 
 Commissioners doggedly that they may cut it off. From that 
 time he gets worse. He refuses slops — turns up a pug nose 
 at pump-water — and at last, on a washing-day, after flying at 
 the laundress, rushes out, ripe for hunting, to the street. A 
 twilight remembrance leads him to the house of his intended. 
 He fastens on her hand — next worries his mother — takes a bite 
 apiece out of his brothers and sisters — runs amuck, "giving 
 tongue," all through the suburbs — and finally is smothered 
 by a pair of bed-beaters in Moorfields. 
 
 According to popular theory the mischief ends not here. 
 The dog's master — the trainer — the friends, human and canine 
 — the Bank Clerk — the laundresses — sweetheart- — mother 
 and sisters — the two bed-beaters — all inherit the rabies, and 
 run about to bite others. It is a wonder, the madness in- 
 creasing by this ratio, that examples are not running in packs at 
 every turn : — my experience, notwithstanding, records but one 
 instance.
 
 304 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 It was my Aunt's brute. His temper, latterly, had altered 
 for the worse, and in a sullen or insane fit, he made a snap 
 at the cook's radish-like fingers. The act demanded an in- 
 quest de lunatico inquirendo — lie was lugged neck and crop 
 to a full bucket ; but you may bring a horse to the water, 
 says the proverb, yet not make him drink, and the cur asserted 
 the same independence. To make sure, Betty cast the whole 
 gallon over him, a favour that he received with a mood that 
 would have been natural in any mortal. His growl was con- 
 clusive. The cook alarmed first the family, and then the 
 neighbourhood, which poured all its males capable of bearing 
 arms into the passage. There were sticks, staves, swords, 
 and a gun, a prong or two, moreover, glistened here and there. 
 The kitchen-door was occupied by the first rank of the column, 
 their weapons all bristling in advance ; and right opposite — 
 at the further side of the kitchen, and holding all the army at 
 bay — stood Hydrophobia "in its most dreadful form !" 
 
 Conceive, Mulready ! under this horrible figure of speech, 
 a round, goggled-eye pug-face, supported by two stumpy 
 bandy-legs — the forelimbs of a long, pampered, sausage-like 
 body, that rested on a similar pair of crotchets at the other 
 end ! Not without short wheezy pantings, he began to waddle 
 towards the guarded entry ; but before he had accomplished 
 a quarter of the distance, there resounded the report of a 
 musket. The poor Turnspit gave a yell — the little brown 
 bloated body tumbled over, pierced by a dozen slugs, but not 
 mortally ; for before the piece could be reloaded, he contrived 
 to lap up a little pool — from Betty's bucket — that had settled 
 beside the hearth.
 
 JOHN TROT. 
 
 3°5 
 
 Drill and Broadcast. 
 
 A 
 
 JOHN TROT. 
 
 A BALLAD. 
 
 OHN TROT he was as tall a lad 
 As York did ever rear — 
 
 As his dear Granny used to say, 
 He 'd make a grenadier.
 
 jo6 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 II. 
 
 A serjeant soon came down to York, 
 With ribbons and a frill ; 
 
 My lads, said he, let broadcast be, 
 And come away to drill. 
 
 in. 
 
 But when he wanted John to 'list, 
 In Avar he saw no fun, 
 
 Where what is call'd a raw recruit 
 Gets often over-done. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Let others carry guns, said he, 
 
 And go to war's alarms, 
 But I have got a shoulder-knot 
 
 Imposed upon my arms. 
 
 For John he had a footman's place 
 
 To wait on Lady Wye — 
 She was a dumpy woman, tho' 
 
 Her family was high. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Now when two years had past away, 
 
 Her Lord took very ill, 
 And left her to her widowhood, 
 
 Of course more dumpy still. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Said John, I am a proper man, 
 
 And very tall to see ; 
 Who knows, but now her Lord is low, 
 
 She may look up to me ?
 
 JOHN TROT. 307 
 
 VIII. 
 
 A cunning woman told me once, 
 Such fortune would turn up ; 
 
 She was a kind of sorceress, 
 But studied in a cup ! 
 
 IX. 
 
 So he walk'd up to Lady Wye, 
 And took her quite amazed, — 
 
 She thought, tho' John was tall enough, 
 He wanted to be raised. 
 
 But John — for why % she was a dame 
 
 Of such a dwarfish sort — 
 Had only come to bid her make 
 
 Her mourning very short. 
 
 XI. 
 
 Said he, your Lord is dead and cold, 
 
 You only cry in vain ; 
 Not all the Cries of London now, 
 
 Could call him back again ! 
 
 XII. 
 
 You '11 soon have many a noble beau, 
 To diy your noble tears — 
 
 But just consider this, that I 
 Have follow'd you for years. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 And tho' you are above me far, 
 What matters high degree, 
 
 When you are only four foot nine, 
 And I am six foot three ?
 
 3o8 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 For tho' you are of lofty race, 
 
 And I'm a low-born elf; 
 Yet none among your friends could say, 
 
 You match'd beneath yourself. 
 
 xv. 
 
 Said she, such insolence as this 
 
 Can be no common case ; 
 Tho' you are in my service, sir, 
 
 Your love is out of place. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 O Lady Wye ! O Lady Wye ! 
 
 Consider what you do ; 
 How can you be so short with me, 
 
 I am not so with you ! 
 
 XVII. 
 
 Then ringing for her serving men, 
 They show'd him to the door : 
 
 Said they, you turn out better now, 
 Why didn't you before I 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 They stripp'd his coat, and gave him kicks 
 
 For all his wages due ; 
 And off, instead of green and gold, 
 
 He went in black and blue. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 No family would take him in, 
 Because of this discharge ; 
 
 So he made up his mind to serve 
 The country all at large.
 
 JOHN TROT. 
 
 3°9 
 
 XX. 
 
 Huzza ! the Serjeant cried, and put 
 
 The money in his hand, 
 And with a shilling cut him off 
 
 From his paternal hind. 
 
 xxr. 
 
 For when his regiment went to fight 
 
 At Saragossa town, 
 A Frenchman thought he look'd too tall 
 
 And so he cut him down ! 
 
 High-born and Low-born. 
 
 U
 
 3io WHIMS AND OuDITIES. 
 
 AN ABSENTEE. 
 
 F ever a man wanted a flapper — no Butcher's mimosa, 
 or catch-fly, but one of those officers in use at the 
 
 court of Laputa — my friend W should have such 
 
 a remembrancer at his elbow. I question whether even the 
 appliance of a bladder full of peas or pebbles would arouse 
 him from some of his abstractions ; fits of mental insensibility, 
 parallel with those bodily trances in which persons have some- 
 times been coffined. Not that he is entangled in abstruse 
 problems, like the nobility of the Flying Island ! He does not 
 dive, like Sir Isaac Newton, into a reverie, and turn up again 
 with a Theory of Gravitation. His thoughts are not deeply 
 engaged elsewhere — they are nowhere. His head revolves 
 itself, top-like, into a profound slumber — a blank dose with- 
 out a dream. He is not carried away by incoherent rambling 
 fancies out of himself, — he is not drunk, merely, with the 
 Waters of Oblivion, but drowned in them, body and soul ! 
 
 There is a story, somewhere, of one of these absent persons, 
 who stooped down, when tickled about the calf by a blue- 
 bottle, and scratched his neighbour's leg : an act of tolerable 
 
 forgetful ness, but denoting a state far short of W 's 
 
 absorptions. He would never have felt the fly. 
 
 To make W — ■ — 's condition more whimsical, he lives in a 
 small bachelor's house, with no other attendant than an old 
 housekeeper — one Mistress Bundy, of faculty as infirm and 
 intermitting as his own. It will be readily believed that her 
 absent fits do not originate, any more than her master's, in 
 abstruse mathematical speculations — a proof with me that 
 such moods result, not from abstractions of mind, but stag- 
 nation. How so ill-sorted a couple contrive to get through 
 the commonplace affairs of life, 1 am not prepared to say : 
 but it is comical indeed to see him ring up Mistress Bundy
 
 AN ABSENTEE. 311 
 
 to receive orders, which he generally forgets to deliver, — or, 
 if delivered, this old Bewildered Maid lets slip out of her 
 remembrance with the same facility. Numberless occurrences 
 of this kind — in many instances more extravagant — are re- 
 corded by his friends ; but an evening that I spent with him 
 recently, will furnish an abundance of examples. 
 
 In spite of going by his own invitation, I found W 
 
 within. He was too apt, on such occasions, to be denied to 
 his visitors; but what in others would be an unpardonable 
 affront, was overlooked in a man who was not always at home 
 to himself. The door was opened by the housekeeper, whose 
 absence, as usual, would not allow her to decide upon that of 
 her master. Her shrill quavering voice went echoing up-stairs 
 
 with its old query, "Mr W ! are you within?" — then a 
 
 pause, literally fur him to collect himself. Anon came his 
 answer, and I was ushered up-stairs, Mrs Bundy contriving, 
 as usual, to forget my name at the first landing-place. I had 
 
 therefore to introduce myself formally to W , whose old 
 
 friends came to him alsvays as if with new faces. As for what 
 followed, it was one of the old fitful colloquies — a game at 
 conversation, sometimes with a partner, sometimes with a 
 dummy ; the old woman's memory in the meantime growing 
 torpid on a kitchen-chair. Hour after hour passed away : no 
 tea-spoon jingled, or tea-cup rattled ; no murmuring kettle or 
 hissing urn found its way upward from one Haunt of Forget- 
 fulness to the other. In short, as might have been expected 
 with an Absentee, the tea was absent. 
 
 It happens that the meal in question is not one of my 
 essentials ; I therefore never hinted at the In Tea Speravi of 
 my visit ; but at the turn of eleven o'clock, my host rang for 
 the apparatus. The Chinese ware was brought up, but the 
 herb was deficient. Mrs Bundy went forth, by command, 
 for a supply ; but it was past grocer-time, and we arranged 
 to make amends by an early supper, which came, however, as 
 proportionably late as the tea. By dint of those freedoms 
 which you must use with an entertainer who is absent at 
 his own table, I contrived to sup sparely; and W 's
 
 3i- 
 
 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 memory, blossoming like certain flowers to the night, 
 reminded him that I was accustomed to go to bed on a 
 tumbler of Geneva and water. He kept but one bottle of 
 each of the three kinds, Rum, Brandy, and Hollands, in the 
 house ; and when exhausted, they were replenished at the 
 tavern a few doors off. Luckily, for it was far beyond the 
 midnight hour, when, according to our vapid magistracy, all 
 spirits are evil, the three vessels were full, and merely wanted 
 bringing up-stairs. The kettle was singing on the hob ; the 
 tumblers, with spoons in them, stood miraculously ready on 
 the board ; and Mrs Bundy was really on her way from 
 below with the one thing needful. Never were fair hopes so 
 unfairly blighted ! I could hear her step labouring on the 
 stairs to the very last step, when her memory serving her 
 just as treacherously as her forgetfulness, or rather both be- 
 traying her together, there befel the accident which I have 
 endeavoured to record by the following sketch. 
 I never ate or drank with the Barmecide again ! 
 
 Lawk : 1 've forgot the Brandy!'
 
 ODE TO THE CAMELEOPARD. 
 
 3*3 
 
 Unconscious Imitation. 
 
 ODE TO THE CAMELEOPARD. 
 
 ELCOME to Freedom's birth-place — and a den 
 
 Great Anti-climax, hail ! 
 So very lofty in thy front — but then, 
 So dwindling at the tail ! — 
 In truth, thou hast the most unequal legs ! 
 Has one pair gallop'd, whilst the other trotted,
 
 .3H W 11 IMS AN ID ODDITIES. 
 
 Along with other brethren, leopard-spotted, 
 O'er Afric sand, where ostriches lay eggs 1 
 Sure thou wert caught in some hard uphill chase, 
 Those hinder heels still keeping thee in check ! 
 
 And yet thou seem'st prepared in any case, 
 
 Tho' they had lost the race, 
 To win it by a neck ! 
 
 That lengthy neck — how like a crane's it looks ! 
 
 Art thou the overseer of all the brutes 1 
 
 Or dost thou browze on tip-top leaves or fruits — 
 
 Or go a bird-nesting amongst the rooks 1 
 
 How kindly nature caters for all wants ; 
 
 Thus giving unto thee a neck that stretches, 
 
 And high food fetches — 
 To some a long nose, like the elephant's ! 
 
 Oh ! had'st thou any organ to thy bellows, 
 To turn thy breath to speech in human style, 
 
 What secrets thou might'st tell us, 
 Where now our scientific guesses fail ; 
 
 For instance of the Nile, 
 Whether those Seven Mouths have any tail ; 
 
 Mayhap thy luck too, 
 From that high head, as from a lofty hill, 
 Has let thee see the marvellous Timbuctoo — 
 Or drink of Niger at its infant rill ; 
 What were the travels of our Major Denham, 
 
 Or Clapperton, to thine 
 
 In that same line, 
 If thou could'st only squat thee down and pen 'em ! 
 
 Strange sights, indeed, thou must have overlook'd, 
 With eyes held ever in such vantage-stations ! 
 Hast seen, perchance, unhappy white folks cook'd, 
 And then made free of negro corporations?
 
 ODE TO THE CAMELEOPARD. 
 
 Poor wretches saved from castaway three-deckers — 
 
 By sooty wreckers — 
 From hungry waves to have a loss still drearier, 
 To far exceed the utmost aim of Park — 
 And find themselves, alas ! beyond the mark, 
 In the insides of Africa's interior ! 
 
 3i5 
 
 African Wreckers. 
 
 Live on, Giraffe ! genteelest of raff kind ! — 
 Admired by noble, and by royal tongues ! 
 
 May no pernicious wind, 
 Or English fog, blight thy exotic lungs ! 
 Live on in happy peace, altho' a rarity, 
 Nor envy thy poor cousin's more outrageous 
 
 Parisian popularity ;
 
 3i6 
 
 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 Whose very leopard-rash is grown contagious, 
 And worn on gloves and ribbons all about, 
 
 Alas ! they 11 wear him out ! 
 So thou shalt take thy sweet diurnal feeds— 
 When he is stuff'd with undigested straw, 
 Sad food that never visited his jaw ! 
 And staring round him with a brace of beads ! 
 
 White Bait
 
 A MAY-DAY. 
 
 3*7 
 
 A MAY-DAY. 
 
 KNOW not what idle schemer or mad wag put such a 
 folly in the head of my Lady Rasherly, but she re- 
 solved to celebrate a May-day after the old fashion, 
 and convert Porkington Park — her Hampshire Leasowes-- 
 into a new Arcadia. Such revivals have always come to a
 
 J 
 
 iS WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 bad end : the Golden age is not to be regilt ; Pastoral is gone 
 out, and Pan extinct — Pans will not last for ever. 
 
 But Lady Rasherly's fete was fixed. A large order was 
 sent to Ingrain, of rustic celebrity, for nubbly sofas and 
 crooked chairs ; a letter was dispatched to the Manager of 
 the P -h Theatre, begging a loan from the dramatic ward- 
 robe ; and old Jenkins, the steward, was sent through the 
 village to assemble as many, male and female, of the barn- 
 door kind, as he could muster. Happy for the Lady, had her 
 Hampshire peasantry been more pig-headed and hoggishly 
 untractable, like the staple animal of the county : but the 
 time came and the tenants. Happy for her, had the good- 
 natured manager excused himself, with a plea that the cottage- 
 hats, and blue bodices, and russet skirts, were bespoke, for 
 that very night, by Rosina and her villagers. But the day 
 came and the dresses. I am told that old Jenkins and his 
 helpmate had a world of trouble in the distribution of the 
 borrowed plumes ; this maiden turning up a pug-nose, still 
 pugger, at a faded bodice ; that damsel thrusting out a pair of 
 original pouting lips, still more spout-like, at a rusty ribbon ; 
 carroty Celias wanted more roses in their hair, and dumpy 
 Delias more flounces in their petticoats. There is a natural 
 tact, however, in womankiri as to matters of dress, that made 
 them look tolerable when all was done : but pray except from 
 this praise the gardener's daughter, Dolly Blossom,- — a born 
 sloven, with her horticultural hose, which she had pruned so 
 often at top to graft at bottom, that, from long stockings, they 
 had dwindled into short socks ; and it seemed as if, by a 
 similar process, she had coaxed her natural calves into her 
 ankles. The men were less fortunate in their toilette ; they 
 looked slack in their tights, and tight in their slacks; to say 
 nothing of Johnny Giles, who was so tight all over, that he 
 looked as if he had stolen his clothes, and the clothes, turn- 
 ing king's evidence, were going to "split upon him." 
 
 In the mean time, the retainers at the Park had not been 
 idle The old mast was taken down from the old barn, and, 
 stripped of its weathercock, did duty as a May-pole. The
 
 A MAY-DAY. 319 
 
 trees and shrubs were hung with artificial garlands ; and a 
 large marquee made an agreeable contrast, in canvas, with the 
 long lawn. An extempore wooden arbour had likewise been 
 erected for the May Queen; and here stood my Lady Rasherly 
 with her daughters : my Lady, with a full-moon face, and a 
 half-moon tiara, was Diana ; the young ladies represented her 
 Nymphs, and they had all bows and arrows, Spanish hats and 
 feathers, Lincoln green spencers, and slashed sleeves, — the 
 uniform of the Porkington Archery. There were, moreover, 
 six younger young ladies — -a loan from the parish school — 
 who were to be the immediate attendants on her Sylvan 
 Majesty, and, as they expressed it in their own simple Doric, 
 "to shy flowers at \\qv fid I" 
 
 And now the nymphs and swains began to assemble : 
 Damon and Phillis, Strephon and Amaryllis — a nomenclature 
 not a little puzzling to the performers, for Delia answered to 
 Damon, and Chloe instead of Colin, — 
 
 " And, though I called another, Abra came." 
 
 But I must treat you with a few personalities. Damon 
 was one Darius Dobbs. He was intrusted with a fine tinsel 
 crook and half a dozen sheep, which he was puzzled to keep, by 
 hook or by crook, to the lawn ; for Corydon, his fellow shep- 
 herd, had quietly hung up his pastoral emblem, and walked 
 off to the sign of the Rose and Grown. Poor Damon ! there 
 he sat, looking the very original of Phillips's line, — 
 
 " Ah, silly I, more silly than my sheep," 
 
 and, to add to his perplexity, he could not help seeing and 
 hearing Mary Jenks, his own sweetheart, who, having no 
 lambs to keep, was romping where she would, and treating 
 whom she would, with a kindness by no means sneaking. 
 Poor Darius Dobbs ! 
 
 Gregory Giles was Colin ; and he was sadly hampered with 
 "two hands out of employ;" for, after feeling up his back, 
 and down his bosom, and about his hips, he had discovered
 
 320 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 that, to save time and trouble, his stage-clothes had been made 
 without pockets. But 
 
 " Satan finds some mischief still 
 For idle hands to do ; " 
 
 and, accordingly, he soon set Colin's fingers to work so busily, 
 that they twiddled off all the buttons from his borrowed 
 jacket. 
 
 Strephon was nothing particular, only a sky-blue body on 
 a pair of chocolate-coloured legs. But Lubin was a jewel ! He 
 had formerly been a private in the Baconfield Yeomanry, and 
 therefore thought proper to surmount his pastoral uniform 
 with a cavalry cap ! Such an incongruity was not to be over- 
 looked. Old Jenkins remonstrated, but Lubin was obstinate ; 
 the steward persisted, and the other replied with a " positive 
 negative ; " and, in the end, Lubin went off in a huff to the 
 Rose and Crown. 
 
 The force of two bad examples was too much for the virtue 
 of Darius Dobbs : he threw away his crook, left his sheep to 
 anybody, and ran off to the alehouse, and, what was worse, 
 Colin was sent after him, and never came back ! 
 
 The chief of the faithful shepherds, who now remained at 
 the park, was Hobbinol— one Josias Strong, a notorious 
 glutton, who had won sundry wagers by devouring a leg of 
 mutton and trimmings at a sitting. He was a big lubberly 
 fellow, that had been born great, and had achieved greatness, 
 but had not greatness thrust upon him. It was as much as 
 he could do to keep his trowsers, — for he was at once clown 
 and pantaloon, — down to the knee, and more than he could 
 do to keep them up to the waist ; and, to crown all, having 
 rashly squatted down on the lawn, the juicy herbage had left 
 a stain behind on his calimancoes, that still occupies the 
 " trreenest spot" in the memoirs of Baconfield. 
 
 There were some half-dozen of other rustics to the same 
 pattern, but the fancy of my Lady Rasherly did not confine 
 itself to the humanities. Old Joe Bradley, the blacksmith,
 
 A MAY-DAY. 321 
 
 was Pan ; and truly lie made a respectable satyr enough, for 
 he came half drunk, and was rough, gruff, tawny and brawny, 
 and bow-legged, and hadn't been shaved for a month. His 
 cue was to w;dk about in buckskins, leading his own billy- 
 goat, and he was followed up and down by his sister, Patty, 
 whom the wags called Patty Pan. 
 
 The other Deity was also a wet one — a triton amongst 
 mythologists, but Timothy Gubbins with his familiars, — the 
 acknowledged dolt of the village, and remarkable for his 
 weekly slumbers in the parish church. It had been ascer- 
 tained that he could neither pipe, nor sing, nor dance, nor 
 even keep sheep, so he was stuck with an urn under his arm, 
 and a rush crown, as the god of the fish-pond, — a task, simple 
 as it was, that proved beyond his genius, for, after stupidly 
 dozing a while over his vase, he fell into a sound snoring sleep, 
 out of which he cold-pigged himself by tumbling, urn and all, 
 into his own fountain. 
 
 Misfortunes always come pick-a-back. The Ptose and Crown 
 happened to be a receiving-house for the drowned under the 
 patronage of the Humane Society, wherefore the Water God 
 insisted on going there to be dried, and Cuddy, who pulled 
 him out, insisted on going with him ! These two had cer- 
 tainly some slight excuse for walking off to the alehouse, 
 whereas Sylvio thought proper to follow them without any 
 excuse at all. 
 
 This mischance was but the prelude of new disasters. It 
 was necessary, before beginning the sports of the day, to elect 
 a May Queen, and, by the influence of Lady Easherly, the 
 choice of the lieges fell upon Jenny Acres, a really pretty 
 maiden, and worthy of the honour; but in the meantime 
 Dolly Wiggins, a brazen, strapping dairymaid, had quietly 
 elected herself, — snatched a flower-basket from one of the six 
 Floras, strewed her own path, and getting first to the royal 
 arbour, squatted there firm and fast, and persisted in reigning 
 as Queen in her own right. Hence arose civil and uncivil 
 war, — and Alexis and Diggon, being interrupted in a boxing- 
 match in the Park, adjourned to the Pv,ose and Crown to have it
 
 322 WHIMS AND ODDITIES. 
 
 out ; and as two can't make a ring, a round dozen of the shep- 
 herds went along with them for that purpose. 
 
 There now remained but five swains in Arcadia, and they 
 had five nymphs apiece, besides Mary Jenks, who divided her 
 favour equally amongst them all. There should have been 
 next in order a singing-match on the lawn, for a prize, after 
 the fashion of Pope's Pastorals ; but Corydon, one of the 
 warblers, had bolted, and Palemon, who remained, had 
 forgotten what was set down for him, though he obligingly 
 offered to sing " Tom Bowling" instead. But Lady Rasherly 
 thought proper to dispense with the song, and there being 
 nothing else, or better, to do, she directed a movement to the 
 marquee, in order to begin, though somewhat early, on the 
 collation. Alas ! even this was a failure. During the time 
 of Gubbins's ducking — the Queen's coronation — and the 
 boxing-match — Hobbinol, that great greedy lout, had been 
 privily in the pavilion, glutting his constitutional voracity on 
 the substantial, and he was now lying insensible and harmless, 
 like a gorged boa-constrictor, by the side of the table. Pan 
 too had been missing, and it was thought he was at the Rose 
 and Crown, — but no such luck ! He had been having a sly 
 pull at the tent tankards, and from half drunk had got so 
 whole drunk, that he could not hinder his goat from having 
 a butt even at Diana herself, nor from entangling his horns 
 in the tablecloth, by which the catastrophe of the collation 
 was completed ! 
 
 The rest of the fete consisted of a succession of misfortunes 
 which it would be painful to dwell upon, and cruel to describe 
 minutely. 80 I will but hint, briefly, how the fragments of 
 the banquet were scrambled for by the Arcadians — how they 
 danced afterwards round the May-pole, not tripping them- 
 selves like fairies, but tripping one another — how the Honour- 
 able Miss Rasherly, out of idleness, stood fitting the notch of 
 an arrow to the string — and how the shaft went off of itself, 
 and lodged, unluckily, in the calf of one of the caperers. 1 
 will leave to the imagination, what suits were torn past 
 mending, or soiled beyond washing — the lamentations of old
 
 A MAY-DAY. 323 
 
 Jenkins — and the vows of Lady Rasherly and daughters, 
 that there should be no more May-days at Porkington. 
 Suffice it, that night found all the Arcadians at the Rose and 
 Crown : and on the morrow, Diana and her nymphs were 
 laid up with severe colds — Dolly Wiggins was out of place 
 — Hobbinol in a surfeit — Alexis before a magistrate — Palemon 
 at a surgeon's — Billy in the pound — and Pan in the stocks, 
 with the fumes of last night's liquor not yet evaporated from 
 his grey gooseberry eyes. 
 
 THK END,
 
 Jurors — not Con-Jurors. 
 
 rklNTKI) IV BALLANTYNE, HANSON AND CO 
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 Poor Miss Finch 
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 Jezebel'sDaughter 
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 Antonina. 
 
 Basil. 
 
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 BY M. J. COLQUIIOUN, 
 
 Every Inch a Soldier. 
 
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 Leo. I P» u| Foster's Daughter-
 
 30 
 
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 BY C. EGBERT CRADDOCK. 
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 A Castle in Spain 
 
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 Beatrix Randolph] 
 
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 Oakshott Castle 
 
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 Patricia Kemball. 
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 31 
 
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 BY AGNES MACDONELL. 
 Quaker Cousins. 
 
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 Open! Sesame. 
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 Hathercourt Rectory. 
 
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 Coals of Fire. 
 By the Gate of the 
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 One Traveller Returns. 
 
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 Whiteladies. I The Primrose Path. 
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 Phoebe's Fortunes. 
 
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 Held In Bondage. TwoLittleWooden 
 
 Way of the World. 
 
 A Bit of Human 
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 Cynic Fortune. 
 
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 Cecil Castle- 
 
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 Princess Naprax- 
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 Valentina. | The Foreigners 
 
 Mrs. Lancaster's Rival. 
 Gerald. 
 
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 Love Me Little, Love Me Long, 
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 Autobiography of a Thief. 
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 Women are Strange. 
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 Grace Balmaign's Sweetheart. 
 Schools and Scholars.
 
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 BY W. CLARK RUSSELL. 
 Round the Galley Fire. 
 On the Fo'k'sle Head. 
 In the Middle Watch. 
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 The Mystery of the "Ocean Star." 
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 The Lion in the Path. 
 
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 Joan Merryweather. | The High Mills. 
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 Heart Salvage. I Sebastian. 
 
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 Mary Jane's Memoirs. 
 Tales of To day. 
 
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 The Violin Player. 
 
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 A Fight for Life. 
 
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 Tales for the Marines. 
 Old Stories Re-told. 
 
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 Anne Furness. | Mabel's Progress. 
 
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 Stories from Foreign Novelists. 
 
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 Mistress Judith. 
 
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