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COLUMBUS 
 BOOK EXCHANGE 
 
 10 E. CHESTNUT ST. 
 
 COLUMBUS, 0. 
 

 
 
 
 
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 €x 
 
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 YV 
 
"Vive la Bagatelle!" 
 
 K. N. PEPPER, 
 
 And other Condiments ; 
 
 put up for general use 
 
 By Jacques Maurice. 
 
 * Forgive my general and exceptless rashness, 
 Perpetual-sober Gods !" 
 
 Tvmon of Ath&as. 
 
 'At. Pepper's voice is as sweet as a bagpipe." 
 
 MaoGbawlee, in PcmL Clifford, 
 
 
 NEW YORK : 
 
 RUDD & CARLETON, 310 Broadway, 
 
 M DCCC LIX. 
 
Entered according to Act of Congress, In the year 1858, by 
 
 JAS. W. MOBBIS, 
 
 In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the Southern 
 District of New York. 
 
 B. okaiqhb;a.d,' * * * ' 
 
 Printer, Stereotyper, and Electrotyper, 
 
 CCaiton Suillftng, 
 81, 83, and 85 Ceittn Street. 
 
K. N. PEPPER, 
 
 And other Condiments. 
 
 906804 
 
TO 
 
 Louis Gaylord Clark, Esg. 
 
 Dear Clark, 
 
 I remember a winter evening when we sat chatting 
 together in your sandlum, sipping a mild and wholesome 
 beverage [tea, was it not?), or answering some exaggerated 
 shriek of the passing wind with the mild satire of a peaceful 
 pipe. Little EUiott had climbed the paternal knee, and mis- 
 chievous Jose hovered near, in no wise " afraid of her father." 
 The bright coal fire sent a cheerful gleam through the room — 
 O cosy snuggery! — and made the delicate wreath of smoke 
 that had settled about your head appear like an indifferent 
 halo. It was the place for that delicate coronation. 
 
 The lapidary-work of this literary Mosaic was hardly yet 
 begun ; but it happened that, by a nervous anticipation, I fell a 
 musing, in one of the natural pauses of our chat, on a certain 
 
vi Dedicatory Letter. 
 
 after-question which had needlessly perplexed me. At length, 
 putting myself in communication with my heart, I heard th^t 
 organ say, distindlly, ''Jacques, if thou canst not hnd here 
 the man to whom thou shouldst dedicate thy work, thou 
 mayest go farther and fare worse." 
 
 I have presumptuously taken my own advice. Considering 
 our friendship, your kindness to Mr. Pepper, and the liberal 
 use I have made of your name in these pages, perhaps it is a 
 wonder I should ever have debated the point at all. 
 
 When you have inspe6led the volume, you will have found 
 it "full of I's within," Hke the Four Beasts of the Revelation; 
 and it must be confessed, that in neither interior can we see 
 much need of them. But it is my wish and timid anticipation 
 one day to possess a greater fund of modesty — or the counter- 
 feit of it — my youth and ripening worldly knowledge lending 
 some encouragement to the desire. 
 
 Take kindly, my dear Clark, these firstlings of a **vagrom" 
 genius ; and share with me the fervent hope that it may some- 
 time "bourgeon and blossom" toward a better fruit. 
 
 Your attached friend, 
 
 JACQUES MAURICE. 
 
 N»w York, Sept. 1, 188& 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 (Written by P. Pepper Podd, Esq.) 
 
 My young friend, the Editer and part Anther of this book, Informs 
 me that, having wrote a great many prefaces for it — some Hundred, 1 
 Understood him to say — and finding the last one somewhat poorer 
 than the first, which he declares was not fit to be perused before a 
 Dog or other animal, he will Depend on me to Do it for him. I gladly 
 undertake almost Any thing for a friend like what he is ; but I Confess 
 my pulse runs up to 80 when I Surrender myself to the Task. 
 
 Preface is hard to write, for the G-enerality of Mankind. Mankind 
 are not use to it. "When they go to write on it, they can Not think of 
 
 any thing to say. It is Compleatly so now. Mr, M said (I 
 
 remember his words) : Now, no Fooling, Mr. Podd. None of your 
 nonsense. Be plain, brief, and to the point. To Say this, is uncom- 
 monly easy ; to Do it, is particularly Difficult, 
 
 In my Opinion, a Work of Literatoor ought to be its own Excuse : 
 or else it should be Consigned to the fire, or perhaps Mutilated by 
 
viii Preface. 
 
 Tairing. As long as the Wonderful genus of Pepper consents to 
 illuminate a Book, that Book, in my opinion, can not Need a Excuse. 
 I may be Mistaken, but that is my Opinion. 
 
 But to think Different, is the Lot of Mankind. Mankind scarcely 
 
 ever agrees. Mr. M thinks perhaps he himself has not Done as 
 
 well as he might, and says he is Afraid he will be Overshadowed by 
 Mr. Pepper's genus, and thrown into a unpleasant Shade by that 
 Individual. That Effect will of course be Produced, /expect to share 
 that Gloom with him. But we should be Proud to Prostrate ourselves 
 at the Eoot of Genus, regardless of its size ; and let our Gaze wander 
 up his lims and body, until it rests with Satisfaction on his glorious 
 
 Feachers. Mr. M has (1) Talents and (2) Education, but no (3) 
 
 Genus ; Mr. Pepper has (3) Genus and (1) Talents, but no (2) Educa- 
 tion; (1) and (3) hiding (2) pretty Much. From this Statement — 
 made not without Study — ^it is so vividly Apparent as to be quite 
 Plane, that Pepper is (to Employ the Languige of Eacers and inferier 
 men). A- head. 
 
 Upon my showing the Foregoing to Mr. M , he Kemarked 
 
 that I had Done it. That is what I intended. I Meant to Do it. I 
 am glad he is Satisfied. He says he will not Detain me any Longer 
 now, and will continue the subject of himself himself^ in another 
 Department, 
 
 My Readers must not be offended if I take my Leaf before an Intro- 
 duction. I act for Another ; and when he demands, in a Imperative 
 voice, "Go," I must of course Stop. 
 
 P. P. P. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 "Are you looking for any one in particular? as the mite said to the 
 microscope." — Punch. 
 
 Page 
 
 To the Reader, . . . . . 13 
 Biographical, . . . . . • ^5 
 
 Genus : a Sketch. By Mr. Podd. 
 Juvenile Poem by Mr. Pepper. 
 Alegaiter & Wotter Snaik. 
 
 Astronomy, ...... 27 
 
 In a familiar (but not impertinent) Lecture. 
 
 Mr. Pepper's Second Feat, ... 54 
 
 Soliliqy : Adrest to a Berd onto the fens. 
 
 The Anguished Bride, .... 58 
 
 A Tale. By WilHe Wilton Willoughby. 
 
Contents. 
 
 Page 
 Mr. Pepper's Third, • • • • 73 
 
 The Suferings ov a Man. 
 
 The Erie Canal, 76 
 
 A Mild Rhapsody. 
 
 Mr. Pepper's Fourth Achievement, . . 85 
 
 A noad to the Comeck. 
 
 A Tedious Story, . . . . .90 
 
 To Angelina, 105 
 
 Mr. Pepper's Fifth Labor, . . .108 
 
 Letter and Poem : To mi littel hous. 
 
 A Lytell Geste of Le wys Clarke, . • 1 1 5 
 
 Mr. Pepper's Mournful Sixth, . . . 1 20 
 Letter and Poem : To the aingel as is gone. 
 
 On Noses, 1 25 
 
 Mr. Pepper's Great Ode, . . .132 
 
 To the Greek Slaiv. 
 
 Phrenology of the Heavens, . . •137 
 
 Copy of a Painting by Mr. Pepper. 
 
 The Little Frenchman, . . . .141 
 A Poem (and Poet) Cut Short, . .150 
 A Pause, 152 
 
Contents. 
 
 xi 
 
 Mr. Pepper in the Vale of Shadows, 
 
 Letters from Podd and Pepper. 
 
 Page 
 
 Lager Bier Lyric, 
 
 Taken from the lips of an imported Cockney. 
 
 161 
 
 On the Clam, 
 
 164 
 
 Mr. Pepper's Eighth Upheaving, . 
 
 Weelbarer. Into 2 parts. 
 
 171 
 
 An Adventure in the Dark, 
 
 (Calculated for the meridian of several small places.) 
 
 180 
 
 Mr. Pepper's Astonishing Ninth, 
 
 Eklips. 
 
 189 
 
 Pharaoh, . . . 
 A Tale of Bricks. 
 
 193 
 
 December in the Country, 
 
 200 
 
 Mr. Pepper's Thrilling Letter, 
 
 202 
 
 To Venus, 
 
 209 
 
 Answers to Correspondents, 
 
 By a quondam Editor. 
 
 212 
 
 Mr. Pepper's Amazing Eleventh, . 
 
 Tirkel: a Pome. 
 
 219 
 
 Mr. Podd's Essay, 
 
 To the World. 
 
 231 
 
xii Contents. 
 
 Page 
 
 Pepper Redivivus, 236 
 
 Sonnet to Pete. 
 
 A Warning, 239 
 
 Effects of the Abolition of Capital Pun-ishment. 
 
 Mr. Pepper re-Pete's himself, . . . 243 
 
 Pete : an averij pome (for length.) 
 
 A Delibation on Style, .... 250 
 L'Envoi. 255 
 
TO THE READER. 
 
 FEIENDLY KEADEK : In tMs page— the Yesti- 
 bnle, as it were, at a small Museum of Fancies — 
 I welcome you to the show, and wish very heartily 
 you had brought your friends. You entered my 
 " grounds" at a G-ate constructed by that finished archi- 
 tect, Mr. Podd ; and had I not chosen to set it near 
 my house, you might have been obliged (or get in, 
 quite unhandsomely, the back way) to tire yourself in 
 an Avenue dark and dreary, rough, and horribly 
 winding : the clumsy work of the proprietor himself. 
 That modest gentleman (who has stepped from the 
 first person and gone aside to view himself), with a 
 winning smile and bow of ineffable courtesy now 
 opens the "inner door;" and having whispered an 
 assurance that he will be ever at your elbow — explain- 
 
14 To the Reader. 
 
 ing that wHcli refuses to explain itself, and at times 
 warning you not to handle " the things" too roughly, 
 as they are mostly air, and slightly made, at that — he 
 exclaims, in silvery tones, and a manner new and 
 striking as his words : Go in. 
 
 
BIOGRAPHICAL. 
 
 IT is all well enougli to talk of tlie ease witli wHch 
 biograpMes of common ;i]rf^-f-g'eBferals,:s^tesmen, 
 and the like, are writtea.; it is gnite. anotHer^ thing 
 when the subject happeHB.'t6 'be* i" gehiiis^ lilte'-Mr. 
 Pepper. I made that discovery before I had thought 
 of my work five minutes. Had not my good angel 
 served me (proof of his existence was getting neces- 
 sary) I really think I should have given up the task — 
 appalled by my reverential notion of the poet, and a 
 sad lack of material. Indeed, I had at last reached 
 that pitiable state — oppressed by the necessity of say- 
 ing something under this head, and the fear of not 
 being able to say it — I fell to asking of the circum- 
 ambient air, in a feeble whimper. Why was I born ? in 
 the received style of heroes (and girls) in a bad way. 
 
l6 Biographical 
 
 The surrounding ether keeping a judicious silence on 
 the subject, notwithstanding several urgent prayers 
 for a confidential communication, I made up mjmind 
 it didn't know why I was born — and was just discuss- 
 ing the expediency of extreme measures, when the 
 step of a mercurial youth smote my ear, as also the 
 finale of that stirring air, "Pop goes the weasel," 
 whistled by the same young person. He burst into 
 my room — displayed a package — I seized it eagerly — 
 I read it by intuition : and pop ! went the weasel of 
 my wo^s'I / With' tfeEibjiig hands I gave the boy a 
 cent;-xmeai;iing'.ofcouT:-se a- quarter — and soon he left 
 md to 'liiy' bliss: . •. •• • 
 
 The package was from Mr. Podd. This extract 
 from the accompanying note will explain its object : 
 " Hearing that a Person (and that Person an honored 
 Friend), who considered Mr. Pepper in his true 
 light, was about to Unfold him to the World; 
 and remembering the Buckler of Obscurity which 
 was once the principal garment of that Infant Genus ; 
 I have concluded to supply that Person and, through 
 him, the rest of our fellow creatures, with a Yiew of 
 his early life. Divested of that Appendage." 
 
 Now for the naked truth and Mr. Podd's paper; 
 
Biographical. 17 
 
 for whicli he will please accept, here, the thanks of 
 one who ranks him second only to the great Pote 
 himself: 
 
 GENUS: A SKETCH. 
 
 " A Ceeek. a House, a lowly Tenement, on that, 
 creek. A Boy, a Small boy, in that creek, Paddling. 
 Geese in the Distance. That Creek, every Drop of 
 which is sacred, is Sqnab Creek. That Tenement is 
 the Kesidence of the elder Mr. Pepper. Those Geese 
 are his. But who is the Child with the Golden Locks ? 
 That is the future Individual, Mr. K. N. Pepper, 
 Esq. He Paddles as only a Poet can Paddle : and 
 grows up as only a Poet can grow up. 
 
 " Genus tells him he must not mind his Father : and 
 he does not mind that Father. He has been destined 
 to Dig. Genus Dig ? Genus can not Dig : genus does 
 not Dig ! He Soars, living on Apples. But that great 
 and mighty Spirit could not express itself in a manner 
 to do justice to hardly Any thing. It often felt 
 Ashamed of itself Only once (in its twelf year) did 
 it do much. But what more do we want ? What 
 will we have ? 
 
 " Here it is, with the stile preserved. It has been 
 
1 8 Biographical. 
 
 in my Possession upward of ten year ; and I know it 
 Genuine. Notice how Brief it is : 
 
 A-FISHIN. 
 
 " Wen I go a-fisliin 
 I kepe a-wishin 
 With al mi mite 
 fur fish to Bite 
 Wen i ketch small 
 i fele no fun 
 Wen i ketch biger 
 i say thats the figer 
 ef you wos moar fish 
 ide hev my wish 
 after al ive tryde 
 i ant Satisfyde 
 fishin is smal 
 onles you git god Hoi demosthens 4 corns 5 guly^ 
 
 " How Wonderful and Good that is ! Genus was 
 then but twelve ! 
 
 "As Mr. Pepper may Prefer to write an Auto Biro- 
 graphy of himself himself^ I cannot be asked to Do it 
 without Pain. The World would rather I would 
 not. The World will wait with Pleasure for Mr. 
 Pepper. It will be enough if I say that after his 
 
Biographical. ig 
 
 Flash of Genus at twelve, I watched over the tender 
 Twig of Mr. Pepper's Brain until it grew into the 
 Hardened Wood you now see it. 
 
 " He often had pains in his Bowels. Severe as they 
 was, he bore them. It does me good to write : He 
 Bore Them. His Genus told him not to take Cam- 
 pher. He did not take Campher. No true Poet will 
 repine at the Severity of internal Pains. They School 
 him : they make him Great. 
 
 '' I watched over all of Mr. Pepper's Poems. I 
 rejoiced when his first Master Piece was wrote. I 
 also rejoiced when the second one came into existence. 
 I have been in a continual state of rejoicing ever since. 
 
 ''If he had not gone into the Country, to be alone, 
 and commune with the Voice of Kature, he would 
 not have wrote to me. Then my name would never 
 appeared to a JSTote in the Knickerbocker. But 
 when that letter came, I knew it belonged to the 
 World. And in giving it to the Owner, I found my 
 Humble Name throwed in. 
 
 " Such as it is, and being, as I am, the Bosom Friend 
 of Genus, I hope the World is not Averse to 
 "Its Humble Friend, 
 
 "P. Pepper Podd.'* 
 
20 Biographical. 
 
 Thanks, dear Podd ! " The World " owes you much, 
 for this ; and how fervently it is to be hoped you may 
 get your due ! 
 
 I do not well know what can be added to the com- 
 prehensive sketch of Mr. Podd's. The subject of this 
 memoir had few adventures, during the eight years 
 in which his genius was a-blossoming. Like that of 
 a kindred spirit (Shakspeare,) his seems to have been 
 rather a tame youth ; affording no salient points to 
 any but the most elaborate biographer. He did not 
 even steal a deer, or small dog. TJie tranquillity of 
 his life, during this period, was ruffled by nothing 
 more tempestuous than an occasional thrashing at the 
 hands of his father ; who seems, rather unreasonably, 
 to have insisted on having his son do violence to his 
 instincts by occasional vulgar work. But we may 
 forgive the elder Pepper these rude inflictions: he 
 thought he was right, undoubtedly. And he was un- 
 consciously perfecting his son's genius; for the "Divine 
 Flatness"* is conditioned on a certain amount of suf- 
 fering. Little did the harsh father think that while 
 he "tanned the hide" of his son, he dusted both his 
 jacket and mind ! 
 
 * Mrs. Partington. 
 
Biographical. 2 1 
 
 Passing over, then, the petty incidents of those 
 eight years : gladly leaving them to some future and 
 more drivelHng biographer, we find him at twenty 
 obeying the now well-defined instincts of his higher 
 nature, and taking a stand on the ramparts of poetry, 
 as one of the sentinels of that perfecter taste which 
 the rude world is ever assailing. 
 
 How naturally do we advert to his First Great 
 Poem, which burst on the world more than four years 
 ago, and dazzles it a little even now ! There is some 
 mystery connected with this poem, that does not 
 attach to the later ones. It was first sent to one C. 
 Conklin Neppins, editor of a Magazine called the 
 Quog Ladies' Litery Oem; but as he was himself a 
 poet, of small capacity but ridiculous pretensions, he 
 saw how imminent was the cutting of his literary 
 throat with the razor of a greater genius, and was 
 silent. When Mr Pepper had grown tired, waiting 
 for Neppins' recognition, he sent a copy of the poem, 
 which he had fortunately preserved, to a man above 
 these petty jealousies, Mr. Clark, of the Knicker- 
 hocker ; and with it the following note : 
 
22 Biographical. 
 
 " demosthenes, 4 corners, 
 "febuerry the5, 1853. 
 
 "Mr. 0. 
 
 " in mi distres & travil i am 4st to apeal to you to 
 redres mi greaviances, which hes ben al but toar nakid by the 
 roothlis edditer ov the quog ladys Htery Gem. i cent the en- 
 cloaged specimin ov blanc vers to him, & he oanly remarc with 
 a noath it wos too blanc fur his collums. ef you shood onforti- 
 netly thine diferen you willov coarsfaver your reders bi a printin 
 ov it, to sho that Genus aint confined concloosively to the larg 
 Potes. 
 
 " sir yours with Kespec, 
 
 "K N. Pepper." 
 
 What a firm and undying consciousness of Genius 
 does that note present! See how nobly the editor 
 there addressed came to the rescue : — 
 
 " It must have been sheer envy, on the part of Mr. C. Conklin 
 Neppins, that excluded the following stirring 'pome' from the 
 columns of ' The Quog Litery Qem.^ We take an early occasion 
 to do justice to the talents of the author, K. N. Pepper, Esq., 
 who has ' chose ' the hydraulic measure, because, next to hydra- 
 metersj he seems to consider it the most * eflfectooal ' : " 
 
Biographical. 23 
 
 SUBJECK : A COLUSION BETWEEN A ALEGAITER 
 AND A WOTTER-SNAIK: TRIUMTH OV THE 
 WOTTER-SNAIK : DETH OV THE ALEGAITER : 
 CONCLOOSION. 
 
 Their is a niland onto a river lyin, 
 
 Wich runs into Gautimaly, a worm Kedentry 
 
 lyin near the Troppicks, cuverd with sand : 
 
 Here & their a symtum ov a Wilow, 
 
 Hangin ov its umberajus Hms & branches 
 
 over the clere streme a-meanderin fur below. 
 
 This wos the Hoam ov the now silent Alegaiter, 
 
 Wen not into his uther Elemen confind : 
 
 Here he wood set onto his egs a slepe, 
 
 With 1 i observant ov flis and uther pasin 
 
 objecks. a wile it kep a-goin on so : 
 
 Fereles ov dainger wos the hapy Alegaiter ! 
 
 But alas I in a nevil Our he wos 4st to 
 
 Walk ! that dreme ov Blis wos too swete fur him. 
 
 1 mornin the son aroas with unusooal splender : 
 
 Wich also did our Alegaiter, a-comin from the wotter, 
 
 His scails a-flingin ov the rais ov the son bacc 
 
 to the fountin-hed wich thay ariginly cum frum. 
 
 But hevin hed nothin fur to ete fur sum time, he 
 
 Wos slepy, & gapt, in a short time, widely, 
 
24 Biographical. 
 
 Unfoaldin sune a welth ov perl-wite teth. 
 
 the rais ov the son sune shet his sinister i, 
 
 Becos ov thayr mutooal splender & wormth. 
 
 the Evil Our (wich i sed) wos now cum : 
 
 Evidently a good chans fur a wotter-snaik 
 
 ov the large Speshy — wich sune apeard 
 
 into the horrison, nere the bang ware repoasd 
 
 Camly in slepe the Alegaiter be4 spoken ov. 
 
 about 60 foot wos his Length, (not the 'gaiter,) 
 
 & he wos aperiently a wel propoarshund snaik. 
 
 Wen he wos al ashoar, he glared onto 
 
 the iland with approval — ^but wos sune 
 
 " Astonished with the vew & lost to wonder," (frum Wots.) 
 
 (fur gest then he begund fur to se the Alegaiter.) 
 
 Bein a nateral Ennemy ov hisn, he werct hisself 
 
 into a fury, also a ni posishun. 
 
 Be4 the Alegaiter wel cood ope 
 
 His i, (in uther werds, perceve his dainger,) 
 
 the Snaik hed envellupd his body gest 19 
 
 times with ''foalds voloominous & vast," (frum milton,) 
 
 & hed toar of severil Scails into the confusion, 
 
 Besides a-squesin him awfuly onto his stomick. 
 
 gest then, bi a fortinat turn into his affairs, 
 
 He ceased into his mouth the cairless tale 
 
 ov the unreflectin wotter-Snaik ! — groan desperat, 
 
 He, findin that his Tale wos fast, squesed 
 
 terrible, wile thay roald al over the iland. 
 
Biographical. 25 
 
 it "wos a wel-conducktid Afair : no nois 
 
 Disturbd the Harmony ov the seen — exsep 
 
 I's, wen a Wilow wos snaped into bi the roahn. 
 
 each ov the combatens hedent a minit fur holerin. 
 
 So the Conflic wos naterally tremenjus ! 
 
 But sune bi grate 4s the tale wos bit compleat- 
 
 ly of: but the eggzershun wos too much 
 
 Fur his dellicat Constitooshun. he felt a compreshun 
 
 onto his chest, & generaly over his boddy : 
 
 Wen he egsprest his brethin it wos with grait 
 
 Dificulty that he felt inspird agin I's moar. 
 
 ov coars this Stait must sufer a Revolooshun. 
 
 So the Alegaiter giv but 1 yel, & egspird. 
 
 the wotter-Snaik realed hisself of, & sirvayd, 
 
 Fur say 10 minits, the condishun ov 
 
 His Fo : then, a-wunderin wot maid his tale hirt, 
 
 He sloly went of for to cool. 
 
 Poor hapiles Alegaiter 1 tis sad to thine 
 Like the Lemons you onfortinatly ^vent in. 
 But rest onto the Sand, ef you hevent roald into the wotter : 
 & rest into the Wotter, ef so be youv roald in. 
 
 How mermy air ap to thine not, wen in dainger, 
 But fall into slepe cairles ! sech air woak 
 Frekently wen al cuite too lait, & thay sadly fele 
 the Embrais of the Enemy : growin weker & weker, 
 2 
 
26 Biographical. 
 
 Be4 thay no it thay cant fech thayr breth- 
 & the consekens is, thay sune di. 
 
 From the time of the appearance of this poem, the 
 " movements" of the distinguished Pote are sufficiently 
 well known, through his own writings, and those of 
 his excellent relative, Mr. Podd. Hence the -author 
 of this brief biography has little more to do. That 
 little he has preferred to divide into lesser bits, which 
 the reader will find prefixed to the several effusions 
 of the bard, as they appear in this volume. Had not 
 Mr. Podd already furnished an eloquent analysis of 
 Mr. Pepper's character (contained in his note intro- 
 ducing one of the poems), it would be proper for me 
 to fulfil the whole duty of man as a Biographer, and 
 attempt that difficult task. But, thankful that my 
 labors have been thus essentially lightened, and con- 
 gratulating both my readers and myself that I have 
 now so nearly finished, I close this sadly inadequate 
 sketch, with the expression of my deliberate convic- 
 tion, that Fame — "if she understand herself: and 
 she think she do " — will " never desert " her favorite 
 Pepper. 
 
ASTRONOMY: 
 
 IN A FAMILIAR (bUT NOT IMPERTINENT) LECTURE. 
 O 
 
 Let us reason together. — Holloway. 
 
 I hope here be truths. — Measure for Measure. 
 
 INTRODUCTORY. 
 
 Select a clear night. Now take a plummet, and if you hold 
 the string between your thumb and finger, so that the ball is 
 free to move, it will not move, but point directly toward the 
 centre of the earth. To be frank, this has nothing whatever to 
 do with our subject. I may remark, however, that if it pointed 
 directly up, instead of down, it would call your attention to a 
 number of glistening little spots on the firmament, and perhaps 
 one large one, all of which you have probably noticed before. 
 If you have not, you will be obhged to me for turning your 
 attention that way: and I must say, parenthetically, I think 
 this the dullest audience I ever lectured before. You will 
 please not applaud. It is of these celestial luminaries I intend 
 now to speak. 
 
 With the highest esteem, 
 
 I am, very truly yours, 
 
 JACQUES MAUEICE. 
 
28 Astronomy. 
 
 HISTORICAL. 
 
 ASTEOlSrOMY is that science whicli treats of the 
 opinions of people in regard to the heavenly 
 bodies. In the light of this definition, perhaps it 
 would not be proper to call it one of the " exact 
 sciences ;" but fortunately for the objects of this lec- 
 ture it will not be necessary to class it at all. The 
 science was invented by an Italian, whose name was 
 Tronomi. As Christian names were unknown in the 
 remote age in which he flourished, he was distinguished 
 from his elder and less renowned brother in the man- 
 ner peculiar to the period, and which still obtains 
 among primitive nations — as for instance the aborigi- 
 nes of America. Like many other scientific men, 
 even of our own day, in ordinary affairs he was very 
 much of a donkey, and of course was better known 
 to the populace by his mistakes than his discoveries. 
 Indeed, with the usual justice of popular decisions, he 
 came to be called "Ass Tronomi;" and, while the 
 name obtained, it was in time transferred from the 
 savan to the science of which he was the founder. He 
 was the friend of Paul, afterwards the Apostle, and 
 died about the year twelve. 
 
Astronomy. 29 
 
 GENERTAL VIEW. 
 The heavenly bodies have no resemblance whatever 
 to human bodies, or the bodies of the lower animals, 
 and are not necessarily in heaven; but the word 
 Heaven, in an astronomical sense, is supposed to mean 
 simply Space, and therefore may include places which 
 cannot be found in the biblical heaven. These 
 heavenly bodies consist of fixed stars, planets, and 
 comets ; of which, those first named are by far the 
 most numerous ; indeed, it is supposed that were the 
 stars no larger than hazelnuts it would take an able- 
 bodied man, forty-five years of age, twenty years to 
 measure them in a half-bushel measure, or rather 
 longer by the peck. It is however believed that, 
 upon an average, their size is somewhat greater than 
 that of the IN^ut with which they have been compared. 
 At their present immense distance from us, they are 
 not as great objects of interest as they would be if 
 nearer. It is thought by some philosophers that, were 
 they as convenient to the hand as railroad stocks or 
 government securities, this interest would reach as 
 high as twenty -five per cent. It will readily be seen 
 that their distance from us must be enormous, when 
 
30 Astronomy. 
 
 we reflect that none compute it to be less tlian two 
 sabbath-days' journey, while* some have placed it at 
 upwards of five thousand miles. It is believed by 
 many that, notwithstanding the anxiety sometimes 
 evinced by poets and others to convert favorite stars 
 into permanent residences, they would prove but 
 indifferent lodging-places, except perhaps in the sum- 
 mer months. In the familiar expression " My stars !" 
 one is supposed to refer to stellar property of the 
 above-mentioned description to which his title has 
 been proved, and which has been duly surveyed and 
 staked out. 
 
 Upon paper, stars are usually represented as having 
 five points; theatrical stars generally have more. 
 These points, in the first instance, are the rays ; but it 
 has sometimes been found that the innumerable points 
 of an actress do not make the expected raise. 
 
 FIXED STARS. 
 The fixed stars — so named by some Yankee, to 
 signify that they have been properly repaired — are 
 now pretty generally believed to be suns. It is a 
 significant fact, however, that many of them have 
 female names. From their singular habit of twink- 
 
Astronomy. 31 
 
 ling on all occasions, they look like so many strug- 
 gling beetles wliich have been fixed to tbe wall with 
 a pin. Many suppose them to have been named 
 from this circumstance, rather than from the one first 
 named ; but I think that no one can weigh the claims 
 of the two hypotheses calmly and dispassionately and 
 fail to decide in favor of the Kepairing Theory — as it 
 has begu beautifully named by a distinguished mo- 
 dern astronomer, whose name I am forbid mentioning 
 by an innate sense of propriety. 
 
 No one should think meanly of the stars for mak- 
 ing their greatest displays on the clearest nights: 
 man, himself so arrogant, ought never to censure the 
 pride of a little star ! 
 
 THE PLANETS. 
 
 All the heavenly bodies of any consequence, with 
 the two exceptions of the fixed stars and the comets, 
 are Planets. They are between thirty and fifty in 
 number, if we include the asteroids — and perhaps it 
 is but kind to do so, since it is only of late these have 
 had the justice done them to be recognised at all. 
 The planets do not consider it a mark of disrespect 
 in anyone to call them by their given names ; though 
 
32 Astronomy. 
 
 tliey do not "come" wlien thus called, sooner tlian 
 the President of the United States, or a very bad 
 dog. They revolve about a certain fixed star which 
 their own inhabitants have named the Sun ; his real 
 name, however, is Daniel Phoebus. This Sun gives 
 away annually immense quantities of light and heat ; 
 which is very good of him, considering the pitch at 
 which the times have arrived. In truth, ]|e is so 
 kind and generous and unsuspecting, that many of 
 his pretended friends are enabled to work him vast 
 injury. The planets are remarkable for their finan- 
 cial ability in effecting loans of the before-mentioned 
 necessaries from him, and coming around him regu- 
 larly year after year. Instead of returning the Sun's 
 light when they have done with it, they distribute it 
 broadcast among their friends and dependants — which 
 perhaps is more creditable than keeping it to them- 
 selves, as they do the heat ; and this circumstance 
 would afford us encouragement to hope for their ulti- 
 mate reclamation were it not that they have continued 
 in their present circle of dissipation beyond the me- 
 mory of the oldest inhabitant. These impositions are 
 likely to continue so long as their warm-hearted sub- 
 ject has light to lend, or is represented in the pictures 
 
Astronomy. 33 
 
 with a face of sucli rotundity and preternatural good- 
 nature as must continually encourage them. 
 
 Yenus, being the only female among the planets, 
 and a very handsome one besides, should have the 
 place of honor, and is therefore mentioned first on the 
 list. It will excite the sympathies of the tender- 
 hearted to learn that Yenus has all her life been per- 
 secuted — ^in point of fact, overwhelmed, with the 
 impertinent attentions of the other planets. It is 
 believed she was formerly partial to one 
 
 Maes, a warlike neighbor of hers, with a remarka- 
 bly red face ; but their many quarrels and fallings-out 
 came to disturb the harmony of the spheres to such a 
 degree, that it was found necessary to separate them. 
 
 Eakth therefore stepped between ; but while the 
 peace has been effectually preserved, I regret to state 
 that he has been made the subject of much unjust 
 obloquy and reproach. It is thought, however, that 
 • Earth will keep moving on — performing his accus- 
 tomed revolutions as jger programme till further 
 notice. 
 
 Jupiter is a very good-sized planet — indeed, quite 
 large for his age — and is expected soon to be old 
 enough to set up for himself He has suffered ex- 
 
 2* 
 
34 Astronomy. 
 
 tremely, at times, from water on the brain ; and that 
 fluid enters largely into his general composition. In- 
 deed, the theory is gathering strength that he has 
 wholly changed to water — whether salt or fresh can- 
 not be learned. Many interesting speculations might 
 be indulged in here, one of which I may be pardoned 
 for treating at length. 
 
 The pressure of water, even at moderate depths, is 
 known to be immense. At the depth of one foot, 
 perhaps, it is scarcely perceptible ; but at one mile it 
 would be sufficient to force a confession of alienage 
 from the obdurate Matsell. Think then of the cen- 
 tral parts of Jupiter as sustaining the incalculable 
 weight of a superincumbent mass of water a thousand 
 miles or so in thickness. Why, we cannot resist the 
 conviction that the whole of the interior of that watery 
 planet, after we reach the depth of two or three hun- 
 dred miles, must be squeezed entirely dry ! 
 
 The energy of my language, with a theme so glo- 
 rious, will certainly be pardoned. To the astronomer, 
 the reflection is one to move the heart, and throw the 
 insensible perspiration out on the surface. 
 
 ^ATUEN is a young planet who has the weakness to 
 
Astronomy. 35 
 
 think Mmself handsome. He is quite vain of a num- 
 ber of rings — only two, I think, after all — which have 
 been presented him by some infatuated foreign planet 
 of the other sex. He is in no way remarkable, and 
 we pass to 
 
 Uranus, or You-rein-us — who named himself out 
 of compliment to the Sun, at a time when he supposed 
 himself the farthest from the sway of that luminary, 
 and that the title might serve the latter as a perpetual 
 reminder of the allegiance of all his subjects. He is 
 sometimes called Herschel — from the two words her 
 and shell; but the difficulty of determining with any 
 satisfaction what female is thus mysteriously placed 
 in the possessive case has latterly thrown the name 
 into disfavor. Uranus is a good planet. Little 
 
 Mercury is page and errand-boy to the San, who 
 keeps the sprightly planet about his person, and may 
 be said almost to carry him in his pocket. Being so 
 near the fountain of heat. Mercury never freezes, and 
 thinks nothing of going up to five hundred in the 
 shade. 
 
 A crop of little planets — at present called Asteroids — 
 are springing up around Mars and Yenus, and four 
 
36 Astronomy. 
 
 of tliem have gone in society for a considerable 
 time."^ They seem disposed to band together and 
 move in a circle by themselves. It will not be neces- 
 sary (or indeed easy) to repeat their names. 
 
 Hanging on the confines of the Sun's estates, and 
 apparently looking for a weak place in the fence, a 
 planet called LEVERRiERf has been observed and 
 
 * Should any question the soundness of the theory wrapped 
 up in this sentence, they will find it strongly supported in 
 " Horn's Examiner into the Laws of Nature," in which may be 
 found the following eloquent passage : 
 
 " The planets Jupiter, Saturn, Herschel, and so on, bring forth 
 their seeds in like manner. What a lot of young planets they 
 have revolving about them I" 
 
 Professor Horn, the learned author of the above-mentioned 
 work, is a deep thinker and profound philosopher. In the samep 
 book may be found this remarkable axiom : 
 
 "A man or woman possessing a contracted skull, prevents 
 expansion of mind in man." 
 
 Farther extracts from my learned friend will be given in the 
 course of the lecture. His is no common mind; remote ages 
 will do me honor for having been the first to say it. 
 
 t This planet was discovered by a Frenchman ; and as a proud 
 and perpetual assertion that Uranus, discovered by an English 
 rival, was not (he very last and farthest of the planets, he called 
 
Astronomy. 37 
 
 warned off the premises. He has the appearance and 
 actions of a vagabond, and it is hoped he will sheer 
 off in time to save himself trouble. 
 
 This I fear quite exhausts our list of planets for 
 the season. I may say, however, we are in constant 
 communication with discoverers (and manufacturers) 
 and hope to be able soon to swell the number very 
 considerably. 
 
 MOONSHINE: AN ANECDOTE. 
 One day, in turning over the playthings which had 
 amused his youth, old father Sun discovered a num- 
 ber of ten-pin balls, parts of various sets. It occurred 
 to him that here was an acceptable present for his 
 little planets. So, calling out — "Look sharp, my 
 lads 1" he threw them all out from an upper window, 
 in one handful. A glorious scramble ensued. Jupiter, 
 being very much of a gentleman, would take but four, 
 though entitled, from his age and respectability, to at 
 least half of them. Earth, having been unaccount- 
 
 it the very-er — or, in French, Le Verrier. Some have proposed 
 naming it Neptune or Nap-tune, as its " part," in ther perpetual 
 concerted celestial music, must, from its mortal slowness, have a 
 tolerably soporific efifect. 
 
38 Astronomy. 
 
 ably timid on that occasion, secured but one. But tbe 
 forward and greedy Saturn was known to have seven 
 after the division, if division it may be called, and is 
 supposed to have secreted several more. What 
 became of the others, is not certainly known. Uranus, 
 it seems, got several — six, it is said ; and some declare 
 they have seen one in possession of Mars. Nobody 
 was gallant enough to bring one to Yenus, so she 
 remained without. 
 
 But the pith of the story remains to be told. He 
 discovered that they who had been fortunate enough 
 to secure any of the balls, had conceived the idea of 
 having solar systems of their own ; and having set 
 their globular gifts flying around their heads, in imi- 
 tation of their great patron, were nearly bursting in 
 the effort to afford them the necessary light. This 
 sight so tickled the ribs of old Phoebus, that a fit of 
 inextinguishable laughter seized him, — so to this day 
 it is animating his visage. In the excess of his sly 
 humor, he allowed himself to shine on the little 
 moons — well knowing the planets would be deceived 
 into the belief that they were doing it themselves. It 
 is even said that the infant planets which have sprung 
 up between Mars and Venus are only fragments of a 
 
Astronomy. 39 
 
 larger planet which had burst itself in the ridiculous 
 endeavor to illuminate its moon. This, however, is 
 not probable. The lava from eruptions, so frequent on 
 the earth, is also thought to be no more than the per- 
 spiration consequent on similar and super-terrestrial 
 exertions. 
 
 MORAL EPISODE. 
 
 The animalcula which infest Earth — called human 
 beings — annoy him very much by persistent attempts 
 to excoriate him, and penetrate to his vital parts. It 
 makes him angry also to be called " Mother Earth." 
 In one way and another, they had at one time goaded 
 him to that pitch of madness that he nearly extermi- 
 nated them by drowning. He has since been sorry 
 he did not do the work more thoroughly. He has 
 however contrived another method of effecting his 
 purpose, that bids fair to accomplish his end with 
 very little trouble to himself By the raising of little 
 wrinkles and ridges on his skin in various places, he 
 has divided them off into separate bodies or nations ; 
 who imagine that naturally they are each other's ene- 
 mies, and have been long engaged trying to extermi- 
 nate one another. At the latest dates* there is every 
 * Written in 1855. 
 
40 Astronomy. 
 
 prospect of a success equal to that wliicli attended the 
 exertions of the Kilkenny cats. 
 
 They are intolerably conceited, withal ; and every 
 nation is inclined to think every other barbarous, 
 cruel, and rapacious. There is, however, but very lit- 
 tle difference in this respect — the human nature per- 
 vading them all. Yet one of these is far too modest 
 to praise itself; it is called the Yankee Nation. 
 George Washington — an individual who flourished a 
 sword in the eighteenth century, and left his mark — 
 belonged to this nation ; and so do a great many at 
 the present day. We belong to it. There are over 
 twenty-five millions of people now living in this 
 country : and the most of these are slaves — some to 
 others, and the remainder to themselves. [Who can 
 think of his country without emotion ! My enthu- 
 siasm should now be pardoned ; for, having carried 
 me away, it has at length in the kindest manner 
 restored me to society, friends, and my subject.] 
 
 THE MOON, AND TELESCOPES. 
 All nations have united in praising the Moon for 
 her modesty and good sense — ^in both which relations 
 she is quite above reproach, and stands unimpeached. 
 
Astronomy. 41 
 
 An "exiled Italian" once remarked, tliat the moon 
 was more useful to ns than the sun ; because the for- 
 mer shone in the night, when there was the greater 
 need of light. The observation illustrates anew the 
 extraordinary acuteness and sense for which his peo- 
 ple have been praised so long. We, therefore, take 
 the warmest possible interest in that luminary, and 
 even call her the Moon, as a token of distinction and 
 pledge of encouragement. 
 
 From the intense desire of astronomers to bring 
 the moon into something like a friendly vicinity, 
 they have been led to the invention of instruments, 
 whose action is calculated to entice her. The Tele- 
 scope — a round instrument, long in use — ^is in great 
 repute for this purpose ; and one species, called from 
 its habit of mind the reflecting telescope, is said to 
 possess a sort of fascination for her. This fact illus- 
 trates in a remarkable manner the good sense which 
 has been already mentioned as one of her attributes. 
 Many claim, however, that she will come farther for 
 a good refracting telescope than for the other kind ; 
 and a somewhat peculiar experience inclines me to 
 this view of the case myself. 
 
42 Astronomy. 
 
 SOMEWHAT PECULIAR EXPERIENCE. 
 A few years since I sat about improving, and, if 
 possible, perfecting tbe refracting telescope. It is 
 well known (to at least jSfty men of science) tbat the 
 great desideratum in this instrument is a material 
 which shall unite in itself quite a number of nearly 
 opposite qualities ; such as, for a single instance, 
 high "refractive" with a low "dispersive" power — 
 there being a limit to the size of glass lenses, and 
 consequently to the number of rays of light admit- 
 ted from the object, on account of the rapidity with 
 which this fatal propensity to " disperse" strengthens 
 when we increase their size and refractive power.* 
 
 * ' Achromatic telescopes" — characterized at first as a " lame 
 invention"— are said to get over this difficulty quite hand- 
 somely, notvi^ithstanding their rheumatism. At the time of 
 which I write, I had not seen them. Mr. Richard (vulgarly 
 called Dick), in his Sidereal Heavens, speaks of Aerial Tele- 
 scopes : but I have no time for such light matters. He pro- 
 nounces the Dorpatrick (sometimes abbreviated to Dorpat) 
 Telescope in Russia, a very capital instrument. He thinks it is 
 capable of " multiplying" almost as fast as the Babbage Calcu- 
 lating Machine ; and that it can '' bring up" anything except a 
 family of children : domestic pursuits being somewhat out of its 
 
Astronomy. ' 43 
 
 Having observed the extraordinary amount of light 
 wHch. recently has been received through the Spirit- 
 ual mediums, I conceived the idea of doing away 
 entirely with the secondary lenses, and of filling the 
 instrument with fourth-proof whiskey. I am re- 
 joiced to announce that the experiment was success- 
 ful, though unfortunate. 
 
 REMARKABLE LUNAR PHENOMENA. 
 
 Having at length made everything ready, and pre- 
 pared myself by silent meditation, — not forgetting to 
 establish a communication with the medium by means 
 of a stop-cock in the side of the instrument, — I 
 covered the moon with my telescope, and took a view. 
 For a space, all was darkness. At length a voice of 
 more than mortal sweetness exclaimed, in thrilling, 
 technical accents, — "Uncover your object-glass!" 
 The darkness was accounted for. In my haste and 
 agitation I had endeavored to look through a plate 
 of brass, of considerable thickness. I did as I was 
 directed; and as I looked again I was not disap- 
 
 'scope. Mr. Dick is not addicted to extravagance in his state- 
 ments. Of his predictions it is said that, mirdbile diciu I they 
 all "come true," as the darkey said of the auger. 
 
44 
 
 Astronomy. 
 
 pointed to find the moon within eight rods of me. I 
 at once observed that the " man in the moon " wa^ 
 nothing more than a huge, fantastical erection, — in 
 truth, a honse; — whose two upper windows, being 
 illuminated, were plainly the eyes. In one of these 
 windows, the sash being up, a man in his shirt-sleeves 
 was leaning carelessly, and smoking a short black 
 pipe. As soon as he perceived me, he shaded his 
 eyes with his hand for a moment, and then, as if 
 assured, started up eagerly and shouted at the top of 
 his voice, — "Maurice! my old boy, — ^how are you?" 
 I replied, through my tears, — "Yery well, thank 
 you, old fellow, — ^how are you?" " 0, so-so, — so-so," 
 said he, as he wiped his mouth with the back of his 
 hand; "the old 'ooman's be'n complaining, lately, 
 and I'm a little anxious on her account, but I'm very 
 well myself." His classic language and elegant tastes 
 at once showed me he was a gentleman of education 
 and refinement. In the course of an animated con- 
 versation with him, I gleaned facts which, while they 
 are unsurpassed in interest, are of the utmost im- 
 portance to the scientific world. 
 
Astronomy 45 
 
 AEROLITES. 
 
 The mystery wliicli has hitherto enveloped these 
 singular and dangerous visitants he at once and 
 for ever dispelled by this episodical remark : " Them 
 'hot shot' I throw down once't in a w'ile, — ^how 
 often I've thought of the fun they must make ! To 
 see a chap run to pick 'em up, and how quick he 
 concludes to drop 'em! — and to hear him wonder 
 where the d — 1 they come from, too ! — ! ho I ho ! 
 ho ! 0-0-0 ! ho ! ho ! ho ! " — and the excessive 
 laughter made him turn black in the face. 
 
 ECLIPSES. 
 The marked frequency of eclipses, of late, has 
 come to be an immense annoyance to him. Many a 
 valuable day has been lost to him ; and many a time 
 and oft has he missed his way, being overtaken by 
 the sudden darkness when far from home. He says 
 we on the earth have no idea of the terrible nature 
 of a solar eclipse at the moon. And indeed it must 
 be terrible, in its suddenness, from the absence of 
 that twilight shading which the presence of an 
 atmosphere would induce. 
 
46 Astronomy. 
 
 ATMOSPHERE. A BREEZE. 
 I inquired wliat possible nse one's lungs could be 
 to Mm where there was no air?* " A very proper 
 question," said he, gravely; "it is a bore to be with- 
 out it : but my wife is musical ; and twenty times a 
 day she gives me an * Air, with variations,' by some 
 windy composer, — and by the time I've heard two or 
 three I don't want anything." On the uttering of 
 this piece of sarcasm, a portentous face appeared over 
 his shoulder. "It's awful dull, up here," said he, 
 after a pause : " I wish, a thousand times a day, I was 
 back to your planet." "What!" I exclaimed, in 
 wonder, — "were you ever one of us?" "Why, 
 bless you, yes !" he replied ; " I come here to fill the 
 place of t'other man." "Yes! yes!" shrieked his 
 
 * In reference to this interesting subject Professor Horn 
 remarks as follows : — " It is no wonder that the scientific 
 astronomer can see no atmosphere round the moon that carries 
 vapors of water ; the moon is too young yet ; the moon has not 
 yet matured. The moon cannot produce vegetation as yet. and 
 consequently don't require atmosphere to carry off vapor of 
 water, until the moon arrives to her degree of perfection to 
 bring forth vegetation." 
 
Astronomy. 47 
 
 wife, tauntingly, — ^no longer able to contain herselfj — 
 ''he had to come, Maurice, — he had to come!" 
 ''Hold your tongue, will ye!" said tlie Benedick, 
 sternly, — " what do you know about war ?" " War !" 
 she thundered, — " it wasnH war ! — it was that foolig 
 piece o' poetry you wrote!" " Wat piece, hussy ! — 
 w'at piece?— tell 'im 'f y' kin !— tell 'im 'f y' kin!" 
 said the husband, curtly and doggedly, with his 
 hands in his pockets ; upon which he ejected slowly 
 a slender stream of tobacco-juice from between two 
 front teeth. " What, you wretch ! — do you dare to 
 say you didn't write 'Hi diddle diddle!' and git sent 
 here for speakin' so disrespectful of the moon!" 
 " Wrote 't y'self, wife, — ^know y' did !" said the man, 
 nervously, and looking uneasily at her from the 
 corners of his eyes. " 0-0-Oh ! you villain !" she 
 shrieked, with energy ; and, with that, ran back, — ^her 
 " noble form " being lost in the " dim profound " of 
 the room. There was no time lost, however ; for I 
 had not yet begun to wonder " what next?" when — 
 " Take that !" issued from the distance — also one of 
 my friend's "hot shot," — which, to his great joy, 
 missed him and passed out at the window. The next 
 moment an accident occurred. The "falling body" 
 
48 Astronomy. 
 
 struck the object-glass of my instrument exactly iu 
 the centre, and penetrated even unto its heart and 
 veins — performing the office of a purge. My eyes 
 were injured somewhat by the explosion, and became 
 greatly inflamed. 
 
 "When I had returned to my friends, they took the 
 liberty to disbelieve my account of the accident ; and 
 invented a theory which, singularly enough, when 
 taken with the other, precludes the idea of an experi- 
 menium crucis^ — the lunar phenomena, the damage to 
 the instrument, and the redness of my eyes, being 
 explained on either hypothesis. 
 
 COMETS. 
 These heavenly bodies resemble snakes in being all 
 head and tail. They are unlike snakes in having a 
 very fiery appearance : red snakes, much to the regret 
 of naturalists, being astonishingly rare. Comets lead 
 a very irregular life, and are a scandal and disgrace 
 to all their connexions. "We have seen the eagle 
 descend from a great height and take the newly- 
 acquired means of subsistence from the industrious 
 hawk, — flying away from the astonished bird as 
 quickly as he came. Before the hawk recovers the 
 
Astronomy. 49 
 
 ordinary use of his senses, tlie eagle is lost to sight, 
 and not particularly dear to memory. The efforts 
 of the comet are attended with the same disgraceful 
 success. Watching his opportunity, he rushes down 
 when the sun is so distracted by his many cares as 
 to see nothing apart from them; and taking from 
 that unsuspecting luminary as much fire-wood as 
 would last him, if frugally used, twice the length of 
 his natural life, flies away to his own country, — 
 wasting incredible quantities of light and heat, as he 
 goes, in vulgar and ridiculous display. He has the 
 "unblushing audacity to come back again, after a few 
 years, sometimes very much shorn of his splendor, 
 and presenting a very ordinary appearance indeed. 
 When sufficiently near, he repeats his disgrace, and 
 provides himself with a new tail. Comets frequently 
 rise to that pitch of variety and extravagance that 
 they will unfeelingly sport two, three, and even six 
 tails, at one and the same time, — flaunting them in 
 the very face and eyes of the injured sun. But 
 Justice at last overtakes the offender: six-tailed 
 comets are never seen but once. 
 
 At a time when people did not know everything — 
 which we may suppose to have been before the 
 
50 Astronomy. 
 
 advent of the present generation — comets were looked 
 on with a jealous eye.* No sooner was the cry, — 
 " The Comet I" raised, than one-half thought there 
 would be war directly, and the remainder that he 
 designed staying his stomach with two or three of 
 the planets. While these induced a tremendous and 
 infernal clamor by means of shoutings, tin-pans, and 
 calabashes, the former ordered an infinite number of 
 Misereres to be sung, and made appropriations for 
 ammunition and the public defences. When we con- 
 
 * Much of the honor of having removed such of these vulgar 
 prejudices as passed to this generation may be claimed by Pro- 
 fessor Horn : 
 
 " Comets should not be looked at with alarm and terror vsrhere 
 they appear in the countries of our solar system. They can only 
 be organized bodies, for the purpose of moving out of the great 
 city or great empire of solar systems into infinite space, there to 
 collect matter, and return into the city, distributing their matter 
 through the solar systems to nourish and compose the young 
 planets. The long tails which they drag after them, can be 
 nothing more than matter they leave behind them; the sun 
 shining on it gives it the color of the rainbow." 
 
 How plausible the premises, how ingenious the argument, 
 how convincing the conclusion ! Mark the play of fancy at the 
 close. Verily, this " Horn" shall be exalted ! 
 
Astronomy. _ji 
 
 sider that wliile on tlie one hand the earth remains a 
 tempting but nntasted morsel, on the other wars innu- 
 merable have taken place, and that these theories 
 were equally plausible, — we cannot avoid the conclu- 
 sion that, when war or other calamities threaten a na- 
 tion, it is better to bluster and make a great noise than 
 to waste money in appropriations or piety in prayers. 
 
 CONCLUSION. 
 
 It is manifestly impracticable to embrace, within 
 the limits of a single lecture, more than a tithe of the 
 details of that science to which it may be devoted. 
 Many astronomers, in similar cases, have tried to get 
 in two-tenths, and have ignominiously failed. I might 
 perhaps have touched off the " Nebular Theory " of 
 Newton, were it not already exploded ; or expanded 
 on the " Contraction of the Earth ;" or stopped to in- 
 quire if the "Motion of the Sun in Space" was 
 seconded, — I might have driven the car of Speculation 
 along the Yia Lactea, only that my way was clear : 
 but, nilly willy ^"^ I have now reached the end. I think 
 I hear some one ask. Who held the stakes when Con- 
 stellation trotted against Galaxy ? I reply, — O'Eian ; 
 
 * Latin. 
 
52 Astronomy. 
 
 the studs were groomed by Boots and tlie Little Bare, 
 and ridden by those stars in the sporting firmament, 
 L. D. Baran and Ark Toorus. Again I am ques- 
 tioned : one of my hearers inquires if I am a lineal de- 
 scendant of the great " Ass Tronomi " ? I hanswer, — 
 ' Ardly. His mine the Hitalian haccent ? 
 
 ADVICE TO ASTRONOMERS. 
 
 From the heedlessness consequent on professional 
 enthusiasm, astronomers are liable to affections of the 
 lungs and throat. When you have had tightness at 
 the chest for a week, accompanied by difficulty of 
 breathing, — ^lungs inflamed, — expectoration difficult, 
 — much fever, — flesh disappearing ; — then know you 
 have a cold : I may say — a severe cold. Don't neglect 
 it. I repeat, with affectionate earnestness, donH ne- 
 glect it. Consumption, that hollow-eyed monster 
 with such an extraordinary appetite, begins to lick 
 his gory chaps when he hears an astronomer say " As- 
 trodoby " for Astronomy. My Sidereal Pills are 
 now afforded at one dollar a box. I^^TAKE 
 THEM.,^,^^1 They are not for a day, but for all 
 time. They absolutely pounce with delight on Dis- 
 ease, and tear him with hideous yells from the 
 
Astronomy. 
 
 53 
 
 body. Their cry is, — "Buy us, and we'll do you 
 good." 
 
 Astronomers ! — ^AVOID the night air ; and when 
 you feel particularly well, and know you ought to 
 feel ill, do not lull yourselves into fatal security ; but 
 commence at once taking these pills (one at a dose), 
 morning, noon, and night. Cultivate both your 
 equanimity of mind and your taste, by the daily 
 perusal of my Circular. l^^PEKSEYEBE,.^^! 
 and you will be happy. 
 
Mr. PEPPER'S SECOND FEAT. 
 
 HAYING- learned, soon after the appearance of his 
 first poem, that many papers had copied the 
 effusion, with laudatory comments, the excitable poet 
 could contain himself no longer ; yielding to the im- 
 pulses of his higher nature, he immediately conceived 
 and gave birth to a sentimental " Solileqy," which, 
 with daring license, he addressed to a " Berd on the 
 fens." Fearing the consequence of his indulging 
 much in hasty composition (so ruinous to young 
 authors), I affected to disparage his first poem, declar- 
 ing he was fortunate in getting it published at all, 
 shorn as it was of its moral, and that nothing but care 
 and faithfulness could keep him in the place he occu- 
 pied. His reply satisfied me that I had been officious, 
 and did not well understand him. There is a fine 
 
Mr. Pepper's Second Poem. 55' 
 
 contrast between the fire and energy of the " Colu- 
 sion," and the tender melancholy and melting pathos 
 in which the "Solileqy " abounds. 
 
 SOLILEQY, 
 
 ADREST TO A BERD ONTO THE FENS. COMPOASED BY MR. K. N. 
 PEPPER, ESQ., WHILST RECLININ ONTO A SHED CLOAST BI. 
 
 Mi pirty litle Animel, a-settin onto the pickits I — 
 
 How fur hev you floo to-day — say, pirty Berd ? 
 
 (doant ster — i aint lookin ; so be not in hury.) 
 
 How ide like fur to set thayr, onto the next pickit, 
 
 ef it woodent hirt, & mi heft woodent braik down the fens, 
 
 & you wood stay & let me smooth of the fethers. 
 
 (its moast butiful Ploomig, i swow I — ^but to resoom : ) 
 
 How i long fur your wings, pirty Bird, so i cood fli 
 
 of ide leve this werld, i wood, & go sumers els. 
 
 Your vols is so swete, too, — ^i wunder if thay put shuger in 
 
 Wen it wos maid ! How i wood like to be a- 
 
 singin al day, & at nite go to roost onto a lim, 
 
 Cairles ! — in slepe ide dreme ov mi mait, & say : 
 
 " Hope your a-dremin ov me likewais, mi mait." 
 
 Ken you fli to the clowds & bac in a minit ? 
 So cood i, mi pirty, ef i oanly hed your wings. 
 But you woodent kech me a-comin back tho, 
 after ide got sech a start : o no, pirty Animel I 
 ide fly to the Hevins, & git prict onto the pints ov the stars — 
 
56 Mr. Pepper's Second Poem. 
 
 ide pic at the man in the Moon, & maik him wine his left i — 
 
 ide — ^wots the use a-tockin, wen you doant no nothin ? 
 
 You aint me. Your oanly a swete pirty Berd, 
 
 always a chirupin, & you aint MeUencoUic & sad. 
 
 But i am : ime full ov potry & felin, & 
 
 author ov varis pomes : but ide say go 
 
 to al, ef i cood oanly fii with wings. 
 
 How ide looc doun & se rivers a-runnin, 
 
 with men onto the bangs a-kechin ov fish, 
 
 & Bufalows a-roamin the prayris, with hair 
 
 al stremin, & injans a shootin at ramden with bos & ars. 
 
 ide fii to south ameriky & se the Snaiks 
 
 in the gingles a-crawhn & a-swallerin ov Httle Bois. 
 
 & then ide fly to afriky & se the Elefans, 
 
 1 a-fitin with the Rinoserus, & a-givin ov him fits 
 
 with his trunc, wile he wos a-gittin ov his bowls 
 
 chaingd bi the ivery Tusc ov his Ennemy. 
 
 afoar ide got much tand bi the rather worm 
 
 Son belongin to afriky, ide fii to aishy, 
 
 inhaihn the C air on mi way to the Kedentry, 
 
 & a-tryin to Banish the smel ov the afriken nativs. 
 
 in gloris aishy ide se menny a Tiger 
 
 a-chaisin the chines & a-bitin a pese frum the leg, 
 
 Wich wood maik me so sad ide pressently cum over to rooshy, 
 
 a-wunderin wot maiks Mr. Cezar so prowd ov his Cussax — 
 
 1st taikin a lingerin looc at the tal fouls in chiny. 
 
 next from rooshy ide cum into tirky, bein so ni, 
 
Mr. Pepper's Second Eoem. 57 
 
 not expectin fur to se much on acount ov the smoak, 
 But not riskin a sques onto the nee with a bo-string 
 Bi a-refusin to taik a Htle Sublim Poart with the sultin. 
 
 But, dere htle Berdy, aint you tired a-folowin 
 
 mi fortius, & not hevin no help from your wings ? 
 
 onhapy Animel I how sory i am ime so crule I 
 
 Ef i hedent a-sudenly thougt ov your fehns 
 
 i mite hev onfortinetly carrid you all over urup. 
 
 But cumin hoam ore the oshun wil sune restoar helth. 
 
 now youre hoam ! — want that did quia, pirty Berdy ? 
 
 But the cus hes floo & desertid the pickit, 
 & nothin is left but i & the shed & the fens — 
 nun ov wich cant fli. ongraitful litle rip : 
 after al my delliket atenshuns, hese throo bac 
 Sech welth ov afeckshun into mi pend up boosumi 
 So it alers hes been, o i shel di i thine, 
 Bi sooiside, after ive roat 2 or 3 moar pomes, 
 in 1 i shel bid fairwel to a Werld onfehn, 
 & maik it so harrowin & afecktin 
 that every boddy cant help sheddin torrens ov teres, 
 & bein bhndid-hke, fur severil days, bi Wo. 
 & al the laydis wil were " K. N. Pepper, Esq.," onto pincushins, 
 & wish he hedent cum to sech a woilent End : 
 He so young and hansum too. — ^but i cant go on. 
 i fele bad : ile desend frum mi eminens & taik suthin worm. 
 Fairwel wicked Werld ; & you, onfehn Berd, adoo ! 
 
 8^ 
 
THE ANGUISHED BRIDE; 
 
 OR, 
 
 THE ECHOING PISTOL. 
 A TALE. 
 
 BY WILLIK WILTON WILLOUGHBY. 
 
 ** Such is life." 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 EDOUARD. 
 
 A spirit yet unquelled and high. 
 That claims and seeks ascendency. — Byron. 
 His was the gifted eye, which grace still touched 
 As if with second nature; and his dreams. 
 His childish dreams, were lit by hues of heaven — 
 
 Those which make Genius. — L. E. L . 
 
 Ham. — He was a man, take him for all in all, 
 
 I shall not look upon his like again. — David Copperfield. 
 
 EDOUARD BL AlSrCHFORD, in Body and Fortune 
 — in everything but Mind — ^had been Frowned on 
 by a cruel Fate ! He was born of poor but honest 
 
The Anguished Bride. 59 
 
 parents, and marked slightly by the small-pox. In spite 
 of these great Obstacles to Success — to which may be 
 added an unfortunate reddish tinge to his hair — ^he 
 had a noble Mind ; indeed, he was possessed of, and 
 as usual made miserable by, the most exalted Genius I 
 At the early age of ten, he had constructed, entirely 
 alone, a perfect Wheelbarrow, with side-boards and 
 all! It is related, that immediately on completing 
 this miracle of Mechanical Genius, and without wait- 
 ing for the plaudits of the World, he put on the side- 
 boards, and filling it with the largest stones he could 
 find, magnanimously wheeled it off a Precipice — ^in 
 his enthusiasm very nearly going with it. There was 
 true Greatness of Mind I He had already risen above 
 the Smiles and Nods of a Hollow World, and was 
 calmly happy in the contemplation of his Genius, and 
 in planning similar great and noble Deeds for the 
 Future ! 
 
 " What if I am poor, and slightly marked with the 
 small-pox ! " he would ejaculate, in a burst of proud, 
 disdainful Rapture, — "what if my hair is a little reddish 
 — or entirely brick, for that matter ; — my Genius^ I am 
 happy to say, is not marked by that fell disease, — it 
 has never had a complaint of any kind. I hnow I'm 
 
6o The Anguished Bride. 
 
 smart I Something whispers it in the sweet balmy 
 gales of Heaven, and thunders it quite distinctly in 
 the Cataract ! I am determined to impress the con- 
 viction on the World. Oh I I am as certain, as I am 
 of the unfortunate color of my hair, that I shall Do 
 Something in Time ! and mayhap (for who knows 
 what Heaven has in store for him ?) the Whole World 
 may yet be at my feet I " 
 
 Edouard did not always talk in this way. No ; far 
 from it ! At times he was frigid with sad Melan- 
 choly I In fact, this was his unfortunate condition 
 most of the time. His worldly-minded parent would 
 often address him, at these moments, in the most un- 
 feeling manner. Thus, on one occasion, observing 
 his unhappy son plunged in deeper melancholy, by 
 half, than he had ever seen him in before, he insulted 
 him by this remark : 
 
 " Cheer up, Ned 1 [by such short diminutives would 
 he presume to approach his talented son I] cheer up, 
 my boy, and take a little so' thin'." 
 
 The reader will at once infer, from this remark, 
 that the elder Mr. Blanchford was not a stranger to 
 the Fatal Bowl. Did his noble-minded son accept 
 
The Anguished Bride. 61 
 
 the parental advice ? Quite the contrary. He repHed 
 as follows : 
 
 " Sire ! tempt me not ! You can't comprehend my 
 nature. ******** 
 Oh! Father" ******* 
 
 What he would have said, is lost to his besotted 
 Parent and the World, and can only be conjectured ; 
 some Noble Sentiment would undoubtedly have 
 escaped his lips. As it was, overcome by his 
 wounded Feelings, and a certain shock his spirit 
 always received at the very thought of the Intoxi- 
 cating Draught — intensified by the fumes of his 
 Parent's breath — he fainted in that Parent's arms. 
 
 CHAPTEK II. 
 
 HORTENSIA. 
 
 A thing of beauty is a joy for ever. — Keats. 
 
 Of such is the kingdom of heaven. — Walter Scott. 
 
 HoRTENSiA Amelia Plantagenet lived on an 
 eminence in the outskirts of the village, in an elegant 
 and expensive mansion of White Marble. Her father 
 was worth Millions of Sordid Dollars, and of course 
 he was a proud, cold, unfeehng Wretch. There wag 
 
62 The Anguished Bride. 
 
 a hard look about his eyes, and he seemed to be 
 always thinking of some new scheme to increase his 
 wealth, or oppress his Poor but Honest neighbors. 
 Hortensia Amelia — although no reader would perhaps 
 expect it — was a Noble Girl, and despised all the lovers 
 her sordid father and proud mother had provided for 
 her. These lovers were all members of the Wealthy 
 Classes, and were very ignorant and conceited. Cain 
 Sharkey, one of them — ^being possessed of nearly five 
 hundred thousand dollars, and belonging to a high 
 Family — was looked on with great favor by both of 
 Hortensia Amelia's Parents. She, on the contrary, 
 in her artless way, would frequently remark that she 
 " couldn't bear him ! " ^ 
 
 When her Parents began one day to remonstrate 
 with her on this apparently reasonless prejudice, she 
 burst into a passionate flood of silent tears, and then, 
 for the space of half an hour, gave herself up to un- 
 conscious musing. When she had recovered from 
 her emotion — which her Parents had observed with 
 astonishment — she frankly confided to them her views 
 of Destiny, the World, Happiness, the Unattainable, 
 and Communion of Mind. 
 
The Anguished Bride. 63 
 
 " Parents ! — ^progenitors I " she at length concluded, 
 " urge me not ! I can never be Cain Sharkey's wife ! 
 ■I loathe him ! — I detest him I " 
 
 Whom did she love ? Alas 1 — ^poor Stricken Deer 
 — as yet, no one possessed the priceless treasure of 
 that ISToble Heart ! 
 
 One night — a terrible night — I may say, a Tempes- 
 tuous night ! — a solitary rush-light gleamed from that 
 proud Mansion, quite late in the evening. Let us not 
 be mistaken. "We will now state distinctly that it was 
 past one o'clock. The Parents were talking in Low 
 Tones, cruelly deciding the fate of their daughter, 
 without making her a party to the scheme. Soon 
 finishing their consultation, and shaking hand sover 
 the agreement to this Deed of Injustice — ^perhaps 
 Blood! — the Father went to the door and called 
 sternly to Hortensia Amelia. 
 
 She was not awake ! ***** 
 
 ********** 
 
 She had gone to bed at nine o'clock, and had 
 consequently been four hours reveling in the sweet 
 dreams of Unconscious, Unsuspecting Innocence. She 
 was a sound sleeper — ^innocence is ever sound asleep 
 
 M:- 
 
64 The Anguished Bride. 
 
 by one o'clock — ^and she was not easily roused. Alas ! 
 better that she had never been awakened ! — ^in which 
 case she would have awoke of herself, in a Better 
 Place. She came to the head of the flight of magni- 
 ficent marble steps that led to her bedroom — ^saw her 
 father's stern face glowering on her from the foot — 
 and, comprehending at once the extent of her Misery, 
 gave an unearthly shriek, and sank upon the floor I 
 
 CHAPTEK III 
 
 THE RESCUE. 
 
 Alas, sir ! are you here ? things that love night. 
 Love not such nights as these. — King Lear. 
 The night was dark and fearful. 
 
 The blast went wailing by. — Milton. 
 
 Edouard was abroad that night. Yes ! his fever- 
 ed brain was on the rack ! His thoughts were too 
 mighty for rest I He went out to hold communion 
 with the elements. They soothed his soul, even 
 while wetting him to the skin. The hoarse voice of 
 the astoupding blast shouted " Eeturn I" — the deafen- 
 
 -M^ 
 
The Anguished Bride. 65 
 
 ing thunder made the same appeal ! Their entreaties 
 were in vain ! He kept on. Why did he direct his 
 steps toward the dwelhng of Hortensia Ameha? 
 Because his thoughts were there ! He had long 
 dreamed in silence of that Angelic Face, and often, 
 of a dark night, had he paced before her window, 
 braving the generally savage watch-dog, and hoping 
 for a gleam of her lamp to cheer him. All that pre- 
 vented his being frequently cheered in that way, was 
 the fact of her always retiring so early. * * 
 
 What means that solitary rush-light — ^that angry 
 call — that fearful shriek ? Instinct told him immedi- 
 ately that the Being he had so long in secret wor- 
 shipped — devotedly but despairingly — was in dan- 
 ger ! Further directions, from Instinct or any other 
 person, were superfluous. Knowing, through some 
 superhuman Agency, that the window just over him, 
 in the second story, was the one he must enter, if 
 any — and having a secret conviction that the door 
 was both double-bolted and strongly barred — ^he 
 stepped back a few paces, and for part of an instant 
 communed with himself. 
 
 * * « 
 
66 The Anguished Bride. 
 
 What did he do next ? Any common man — con- 
 sidering that the window was upward of twenty feet 
 from the ground — would have done nothing. Edou- 
 ard Blanchford was not a common man. His ac- 
 tions, his habits — the very fact of his being in such 
 a place at such a time, prove that he was no common 
 man. His very next Action — so Brave and Diffi- 
 cult — has a tendency to make the fact still more 
 apparent. Collecting all his energies (of which he 
 possessed many), and receiving just then some Super- 
 natural Aid, he ran with the velocity of lightning, 
 and sprang through the window — dashing the sash 
 to atoms ! and lacerating his hand to such a frightful 
 degree that several drops of blood seemed on the 
 point of bursting from the wound ! 
 
 HoRTENSiA Amelia had had a Presentiment that 
 Deliverance was to come through the third window 
 from the right, looking south (the very window !) 
 and for several minutes had been watching it with 
 anxiety. When she saw that Noble Form burst 
 through it, and with the acquired momentum run 
 
The Anguished Bride. 67 
 
 forward several steps to save himself from falling — 
 she uttered a Shriek of Pleasure, and with the most 
 touching tenderness of tone inquired anxiously if he 
 were hurt. 
 
 " Are you f ' he asked, with frantic eagerness. 
 
 " I am very well, now /" she replied, casting down 
 her eyes ; and then, in some confusion, was about to 
 say nothing, when, catching a sudden glimpse of the 
 Bloody Hand of Edouard, she shrieked once more, 
 and immediately tore a strip of linen from one of her 
 under-garments to bind up the wound. 
 
 Touched and melted by this evidence of affection, 
 and partly overcome by the Superhuman Effort he 
 had made, as well as the loss of blood, Edouard 
 asked Hortensia for a glass of water. Casting upon 
 him a look of mingled mild reproach and Unfathom- 
 able Love, she said : 
 
 " How can you think of water, love, at such a 
 moment ?" 
 
 " Then fly, love — fly with me — at once — at once /" 
 he cried, seizing her unresisting form, and leaping 
 madly from the window I 
 
68 The Anguished Bride. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE FATAL FIREARM. 
 
 Last scene of all. 
 
 That ends this strange, eventful history. — As You Like It. 
 To be, or not to be ; that is the question. — Anon. 
 O death ! where is thy sting ? — Irving. 
 This is the last of earth. — Dr. Johnson. 
 
 How Bdouard found himself at the door of a cler- 
 gyman two miles distant, with the insensible form of 
 Hortensia in his arms — is every whit as miraculous 
 as his wonderful leap. Oh ! ye "Worldly ones of this 
 Earth I learn, in this humble Tale, that the only Ma- 
 gician, the only real Wonder- Worker, is LOYE ! 
 
 A slight application of hartshorn to the nose of 
 Hortensia Amelia having ''brought her to," they 
 were quickly made one ; and Hortensia having feed 
 the clergyman, as Edouard had forgotten his purse, 
 they at once repaired to the Beautiful Yalley which 
 he had selected as their future residence. 
 
 Precisely a minute after their departure from the 
 clergyman's house, Mr. Plantagenet and Cain Shar- 
 key arrived — their six horses, as well as themselves, 
 all breathless and foaming. 
 
The Anguished Bride. 69 
 
 " Here's a go !" cried Cain Sharkey, in the elegant 
 phraseology for which he was distinguished. " Plan- 
 tagenet ! my intended Father-in-law !" he proceeded, 
 " mark me ! I must have vengeance ! damn me !" 
 
 " Certainly," replied the obsequious, fawning Plan- 
 tagenet, — " of course." With that they leaped furi- 
 ously into their carriage, and drove impetuously 
 away. 
 
 It was eve ; or, rather, it had been eve, and was 
 now night. Edouard and Hortensia had passed the 
 evening in a state of bliss unspeakable — holding each 
 other by the hand, and gazing fondly into each 
 other's eyes. 
 
 " My love !" at length said the blushing bride, 
 " my eyes grow heavy, and I am weary ; I think I 
 will retire." Upon which, kissing Edouard affec- 
 tionately, she glided from his presence like a thing 
 of grace. Edouard then rose; and, after yawning 
 wearily, and rubbing his heavy eyes, began to pace 
 the room furiously, and weep briny tears, at the 
 same time tearing his already thin hair, and rending 
 
yo The Anguished Bride. 
 
 his apparel. At last his surcharged heart found re- 
 lief in words : 
 
 " Alas I what have I done ? Wretch that I am ! 
 Villain I Monster I Cold-hearted Abortion ! I have 
 doomed Hortensia, the tenderly-reared, to a life of 
 Misery and Want ! I am poor, and the World has 
 not yet done me justice. How can I repair the Mis- 
 chief I have done ? Alas I there is but one way ! 
 Come, sweet Friend," he continued, drawing a richly- 
 mounted Pistol from his bosom, and kissing it — 
 " come ! relieve me ! Oh ! relieve me — I pray, re- 
 lieve me from this Load which seems large enough for 
 six ! Hortensia Amelia, my fond Bride — a last adieu!" 
 
 A report rang through the little cot, and reverbe- 
 rated for Miles along the valley. A Shriek soon fol- 
 lowed, ten times as loud and Appalling. Cain 
 Sharkey and Mr. Plantagenet heard both ! 
 
 " I know Hortensia's voice !" said the elder of the 
 two Travellers, in a confident tone — ^leaping from the 
 carriage and clearing the fence at a single bound. He 
 saw an object clothed in white, standing at the corner 
 of the house, with a handkerchief at her face. 
 
 Eeader, that Object — ^that Weeping Object — clothed 
 in white — standing at the comer of the house — in 
 
The Anguished Bride. 71 
 
 Agony — was — Hortensia Amelia Blanchford ! 
 Bride and Widow in one, or rather five, short hours ! 
 "Father!" she shrieked, without removing the 
 handkerchief from her face — " go in ! and behold 
 Your "Work ! Your Son-in-law, Sir, is dead !" It is, 
 Sir, a Sad Fact! * * * 
 
 Header! she lives— but she has never married. A 
 constant melancholy shades her fine features and im- 
 pairs her appetite. When Edouard Blanchford is 
 mentioned in her presence (which has never but once 
 happened, as her friends avoid the painful topic), she 
 weeps. 
 
 I saw her turning the crank at the well in her 
 father's yard. I mentioned Edouard Blanchford. She 
 wept and turned away. Her only comfort is in 
 Labor. Consequently she weeds the garden, in her 
 Widow's weeds, and affects the passer-by to tears by 
 such a touching sight. 
 
 Cain Sharkey, after a life of dissipation, fell a vic- 
 tim to his passions, and died very Unhappy. 
 
 Hortensia Amelia's father has Changed ! He is 
 
72 The Anguished Bride. 
 
 now a good man. His wife is now a good woman — 
 old, but happy, and devoted to her daughter. 
 
 Edouard's father now sleeps by the side of his 
 Noble Son. 
 
 Eeader, farewell ! and, in your intercourse with 
 
 your brothers and sisters of the great Human Family, 
 
 ever 
 
 " Speak gently to the erring." 
 
MR. PEPPER'S THIRD EFFORT. 
 
 THE forebodings of Genius are of tlie nature of 
 prophecies in embryo ; but wben they happen to 
 fail of their realization, as did the forebodings of Pep- 
 per, alluded to* in the following paragraph, which the 
 Knickerhocker prefixed to the poem — the world re- 
 joices, and looks out as usual for new poems : 
 
 " Again are we favored with a spirited ' Pome' by 
 Mr. K. N. Pepper, who touches nothing that he 
 doesn't ornament. In a private note to the Editor, he 
 intimates that his poetical power may be failing him. 
 Not so : there are parts of ' The Suferings ov a Man'' 
 which are fully equal to portions of the ' Lines to a 
 Berd onto the Fens.' Oh, no ; Mr. Pepper must not 
 lose confidence in himself He has only just com- 
 menced his career ; he has been writing, as it were, 
 
 4 
 
74 Mr. Pepper's Third Effort. 
 
 * with one arm tied behind him.' Made virtute^ Mr. 
 Pepper:" 
 
 THE SUFERINGS OV A MAN. 
 
 COMPOASD INTO RIME BI MR. K. N. PEPPER, ESQ. 
 
 As he traveld bi the way, 
 
 this Man wos herd fur to say 
 
 (al aloan he wos, you se,) 
 
 i wish i hed sum 1 fur cumpany. 
 
 But thair he wos, al aloan, 
 
 & that is Suferink, we oan. 
 
 But as he wos a-goin frum hoam, 
 
 gitin kind ov loan-sum. 
 
 He side severil times cuite hard, 
 
 mournfuly a-stroaking ov his baird, 
 
 until his Suferings wos so intens 
 
 He bload his noas bi the fens, 
 
 Becos ov his absens ov mind — 
 
 He not bein eny ways so inclind : 
 
 Sech Wo ! — ^but cumpany wos ni 
 
 to him moast sertinly : 
 
 He heerd a yel, sum distens of, 
 
 &, as he afterwerds sed, 
 
 it wos a Dog, & that Dog wos hisn — 
 
 the saim as he hed left a prisen- 
 
Mr. Pepper's Third EfFort. 75 
 
 er to hoam at 11 in the 4 noon, 
 this maid him kind ov mad soon ; 
 & as the Animal cumd hckin around 
 He swoar Venjens onto him imejitlj. 
 
 o sed he, as he stompt onto the ground, 
 
 ime mad enuf, i am, to fli : 
 
 So it bein a Htle cus ov a Dog, 
 
 He jest tooG him by the nap ov the nee 
 
 & felt amungst his tog- 
 
 ery ; tooc out a fresh cud into his chec 
 
 (ov tobacker) & scuirted the guse 
 
 into his fais & i's moast perfuse, 
 
 & maid him yel sum, i shood thine : 
 
 Pereodikelly a-wantin ov drinc 
 
 fur to whet up his parchment tung. 
 
 & now mi song is moast sung : 
 the Dog becaim (spekin perhte) 
 much regused ; in fact, he dide : — 
 & so did the Man, sum time after, 
 ov the scarht Feiver 
 
THE ERIE CANAL 
 
 A MILD RHAPSODY. 
 
 I QUESTION if there is a single "packet" now 
 "running" on tHs canal. Ten years ago, there 
 were fleets of them. Alas, that Time should work 
 so grievous changes ! 
 
 Unblest as I am by reminiscences of experience in 
 the elegant recreation of guiding a " leader," — or the 
 more absorbing and scientific pastime of " steering ;" 
 accomplished in naught that pertains to the respon- 
 sible post of "bowsman;" and never — to forget an 
 occasional timid Jew, in Chatham street — ^having 
 been hailed as " Captain," afloat or ashore : still, 
 gentle reader, I know the Erie Canal, well. I know, 
 too, that the not-infrequent and familiar tales of 
 
The Erie Canal. 77 
 
 "tempestuous passages" through endless surges, the 
 " mountain- waves," the trepidations of the " cook," 
 and the imperatively -necessary " reefs in the stove- 
 pipe," are baseless and shameless inventions of the 
 projectors of " rail, and other roads," — or the slander- 
 ous attacks of would-be " dead-heads," who were 
 obliged to pay for dinners the same as when on land. 
 For, look you, it never in such- wise befell the writer 
 hereof; who, favored by gentle gales, clear skies, 
 and glassy waves, had ever reached the "haven 
 where he would be," un vexed by the strife of ele- 
 ments, or lashings of rebellious surges. 
 
 O that those halcyon days would come, once more ! 
 Holland! be ever blessed in thine honest fondness 
 for slow motion ! America ! let rail-roads curse thee 
 — ^kill thy children — warn thee of that fell destroyer 
 — Haste ! 
 
 What whilome traveller on this canal can be pre- 
 sumed to have forgotten the soothing strains that 
 were wont to steal from the horn of the steersman, as 
 with his brown right hand he placed it against the 
 side of his mouth and breathed his soul through a 
 very small aperture ? the left meanwhile guiding the 
 swan-like motions of the boat ! And the noble craft, 
 
78 The Erie Canal. 
 
 " tiling of life" as it was, How the gates of the lock 
 would joyfully open to receive it : like the arms of a 
 paternal one, who was about to fold in his embrace 
 the prodigal, at last returned, from husks, to veal 
 and his father I Ah ! then we could feel that Music 
 is a spirit, not partial in respect of tenements, but, 
 with a sweet forgetfulness of self, tobacco, and horns, 
 (whether of tin, or fluid mixtures,) ready to further 
 the ends of her benevolent mission by dwelHng in the 
 humble breast of a steerer of boats. For a time we 
 forgot the idle distinction of "passengers" and 
 "crew," and united in heart-felt eulogiums on the 
 wonderous skill of the enchanter. 
 
 The Erie Canal is no imaginary affair — a kind of 
 myth, that men talk about, but never see: it does 
 not float on the sea of idea. Oh ! no ; it is confined 
 by an immense number of locks; and statistical 
 writers, in their honest moods, call it, in language 
 singularly appropriate, a " fixed fact." 
 
 In contemplating this wonderful (I had nearly said 
 preposterous) Ditch, the mind is missed from its 
 accustomed place : it is, in short, lost. A feeling of 
 awe comes over us; and, in the eloquent language 
 of the ancient matron who feasted her eyes and 
 
The Erie Canal. 
 
 79 
 
 curiosity on the novel sight of an elephant, we are 
 led to wonder if this be The Canal " all the way 
 along." It is like "linked sweetness" in the length 
 of its drawing-out. What is it but a silver String to 
 the great Violin, the Empire State? How it trem- 
 bles, between its "bridges," when crossed by the rays 
 of a summer sun I The music is translated into audi- 
 ble sounds by ten hundred steersmen — 
 
 Who play to the rocks, 
 
 As they come near the locks, 
 The music of heavenly spheres : 
 
 How the echoes awaken 
 
 When the tin horn is taken 
 By the " stern" man who blows it, and steers ! — 
 
 which little burst of poetic, enthusiasm may serve to 
 assure many who long suspected that the Divine 
 Afflatus may be evolved by the contemplation of 
 canals. 
 
 To illustrate the possibilities of the imagination, let 
 let us conceive the Erie Canal to be eliminated : wiped 
 out with an adequate sponge, or ejected from its place 
 by one of the "roads" afore-mentioned. Better still, 
 
8o The Erie Canal. 
 
 believe it never to liave been: a faith which will 
 resemble, in magic power, that of those who count 
 Shakspere to have been a myth. To have a favor of 
 such magnitude granted so readily, at the risk of ema- 
 ciating the conscience through starvation, exposure, 
 and neglect, emboldens me to follow this career of 
 infamy awhile longer. We will now suppose the 
 New York Historical Society to have discovered, 
 near Buffalo, an Obelisk — an undoubted Pompey's 
 Pillar, which never supported anything and has long 
 ceased to su pport itself ; or a Cleopatra's Needle, with 
 no " eye" to be " drilled, counter-sunk, and warranted 
 not to cut," but beyond a perad venture a genuine 
 article, if we may judge from the few feet of it still 
 left above ground. Inspired by a sort of traditionary 
 instinct, the Society above named determines to trans- 
 port the Obelisk to their own city, for erection in the 
 Park. It comes within the limits of our "supposi- 
 tion" to have them consult with engineers, and finally, 
 with any but humorous intentions, quote the language 
 of Confucius and confess it to be " no go." Disdain- 
 ing the aid of the hackneyed yoke of oxen which 
 " drew the inference," cuffing the ears of the wag who 
 suggests a "poor-man's plaster," and hopeless of the 
 
The Erie Canal. 81 
 
 efficacy of " moral suasion," even wlien couched in 
 the most " moving accents," they yield themselves to 
 as deep despair as philosophers can feel, and never 
 cease to regret that Obelisks, like facts, are such 
 " stubborn things." 
 
 But aid is vouchsafed. Omnipotent Fancy will 
 have a "streak of lightning," the plough of Time, or 
 five thousand Irishmen, excavate a Furrow through 
 the centre of the State; she fills it with water, on 
 whose bosom she launches " scows," ornamented with 
 captains, bowsmen, and steersmen; she kindly 
 whispers a preliminary warning, — and then, in a com- 
 manding, rough, military voice, shouts to the column, 
 "Advance!" Every hieroglyphic on its time-worn 
 surface squirms with reluctance, and all its figures 
 "grin horribly a ghastly smile;" yet the Anglo- 
 Saxon energy of the gallant boatmen makes light of 
 the pillar, and it becomes a Pillar of Light : illumi- 
 nating its own darkness by the diabolical glare of 
 interior, stony curses. To the music of horns and 
 waving of glazed hats, this venerable Eelic of a 
 former age bids farewell to the hole whence it was 
 exhumed, and is soon lowered into, and resting in, its 
 " long home," the scow. In an insignificantly brief 
 
 4* # 
 
82 The Erie Canal. 
 
 space of time, if we compare it with eternity or a 
 year of the new planet, the Needle reaches Kew 
 York, and threads the streets, at the head of a pro- 
 cession, — ^inspecting everything with its eye, as it goes 
 along, and discovering a good many fine points ; but, 
 not yet recovered from its astonishment at the 
 changes that have been going on since its day, 
 making but few remarks. The Park at last receives 
 it, standing; the Fountain has a holiday, and is 
 allowed to play; and on the current "list of new 
 arrivals" one may read: "0. B. LiSK, from Buffalo." 
 
 In these latter days of economy and moral 
 restraint, they who " go down to the deep " of locks, 
 and are vexed with the toils of inland navigation, 
 do not indulge, to the same extent as formerly, in 
 the luxury of the Sulphureous Oath. Truly, the 
 "canaler" of early times may be said to have been 
 " clothed with curses as with a garment." But the 
 world, including the world of fresh- water "salts," is 
 growiiig better; on the canal may now be found 
 many "moral" men— -yea, many "praying" men. 
 Yet is the canal not a fine-spun paradise ; the towns 
 through which it threads its shining course have not 
 
The Erie Canal. 83 
 
 come as yet to cry to tlie distant hamlets and villages, 
 "We are holier than ye." "Drivers" may still be 
 heard communicating unpleasant sentimeiits to stupid 
 " leaders," and invoking celestial aid to the consign- 
 ing the lights, hides, souls, and other component 
 parts of those offending beasts, to regions infernal, or 
 spirits diabolical. But the millennium is coming. 
 Already a goodly number of the " vips " can read, 
 and many consent to peruse the tracts and volumes 
 left with them by the plain, simple-hearted, but 
 earnest men who have taken our inland waters as the 
 " field " of their labors. 
 
 Yerily, a great and happy change shall have taken 
 place, when the captain, though it be only of a scow 
 or log-raft, shall be a gentleman ; when every bows- 
 man and steersman shall take "Watts's" to his 
 bosom, shouting spiritual songs ; when the cook shall 
 season his dishes with a prayer ; when each driver 
 shall eschew profanity and tobacco, and take the 
 hand of every other driver, calling him " brother ;" 
 when the lock 'tender shall joyfully hasten to "hurra 
 the lock!" summoned thereto by a warning strain 
 from the Old Hundredth Psalm — ^the delight of the 
 steersman; when the collector shall lay down his 
 
84 The Erie Canal. 
 
 Bible with a placid smile, that he may make out 
 a " clearance :" when, in short, the Millennium does 
 come. 
 
 [If steam is really to come into general use on the Canal, 
 where, I would ask, are we to go who are in love with the 
 romance of inland navigation ? Away with this base, utilitarian 
 project ! Who wants to be blown up on a Canal ? There would 
 be no attractive notoriety in it — no chance for damages against 
 the Company. Keep off this steam, or I pack up for Holland.] 
 
MR. PEPPER'S FOURTH ACHIEVE- 
 MENT. 
 
 THE Great Comet of 1853 was not witliout its 
 " mission" — whicli evidently was to inspire our 
 poet, and thus proclaim the majesty of intellect. His 
 ode is in blank- verse — " a deviation," said a critic, 
 "from the shackles of poetical rule, which marks the 
 man of ' genus.' But the thought, the thought is the 
 thing. Observe the variety and ' reach ' of the poet's 
 fancy :" 
 
 A NOAD TO THE COMECK. 
 
 ROTE INTO THE SUMMER, BY MR. K. N. PEPPER, ESQ. 
 
 All hail, gralt Loominarry — twicet al hale 1 
 Grand fizzikel Yisiter, youm welcum 1 
 in regions ov Spais, wair al is silens, 
 
86 Mr. Pepper's Fourth Achievement. 
 
 & there4: no nois is herd, its dificult 
 
 to traivel & not waik up sumthin : 
 
 But you hev dun it so fur moar than 50 yeres, 
 
 to the satisfacshun ov al present. 
 
 With untirin perseverens se him sail 
 
 onto a rowt as no 1 ever thougt ov goin. 
 
 Wen hese frose the har al of ov his hed, 
 
 & lost so meny milds ov tail that he 
 
 cant tel wether hese a-goin forids or bacards, — 
 
 then he shutes down to the Son fur to worm up, 
 
 & put on a litle bam of Columby or warpean. 
 
 Sech hard were it is fur him to stop, 
 
 that hese lost the nac throo wont ov practis. 
 
 o Comeck ! — a-goin round & round the son, — 
 Wi not sum time or uther wind him up, 
 &, a-taikin the rains ov Guverment into your teth, 
 up & giv the soaler Cistim a nairin ? 
 Cum, — ^blo your wissel ; the plannits is on a train : 
 Emigrans into the frunt ; ov colusion no dainger : 
 Gupitter '11 doo fur a balens-wele — 
 Satern '11 ring wen thays sumthin ahed — 
 Mars fite al irishmen as wont pay the fair — 
 & venous so swete ile ride with her miself. 
 (wot a nidee, now, fur a singul man I) 
 Wele notifi the smal stars onto the rowt 
 to looc out for the Comeck wen the bel rings I 
 
Mr. Pepper's Fourth Achievement. 87 
 
 Wele saw up the milky Way fur fire-wood, 
 
 & yous the orory Boryals fur a signel-hte : 
 
 Wich wood caws a stonishment to spring frum the i. 
 
 But act your Plesure — we doant wonto dicktait — 
 
 oanly we shood be hapy to cum the perpoasd arraingmeant. 
 
 Miss Terious Comeck ! — wens doo you shoot ? 
 Ware wos you wen you 1st thougt ov flyin ? 
 Wot put it into your hed to cum this way, 
 a-surprisin ov the naty vs ? — is the stait 
 ov your financys sech you cant supoart moar tale ? 
 
 o Comeck ! — ^peraps its loansum, traivelin so — 
 But you doant no the mizzery ov a felin hart : 
 Youm al hed & tail ; so ov coars cant fele. 
 i sumtimes wish i hedent no boddy, too, — 
 fur fhen i mite be hapy. — ^plese ex-kews 
 mi present emoshun — i cant always Banish 
 the thougt ov Wo. 
 
 mity Loominarry I 
 immens Miss Terry ! — say now, wos it troo 
 You hed sum thougts ov a-soin up the Erth ? 
 You aint noomeris for that persedin ! 
 o no, Mr. Comeck, — ^youm too smal. 
 You mite hac of a mountin or 2, praps, 
 Bi a-snubbin ov your tale onto a pyrrymid ; 
 But the Morril part ov Comunity 
 Woodent se no libbertys tooc with the muther Erth — 
 
88 Mr. Pepper's Fourth Achievement. 
 
 o no, Mr. Comeck, as wos sed be4. 
 
 1st egsersise, & git sum mete onto your ribs, 
 
 & like samson let your bar gro long. — 
 
 we no your tallent into the sailin line — 
 
 we acnollig youm sum onto fire-wercs : 
 
 But doant be foolish becos you no how. 
 
 You cant sercumnavoygrait Erth like you doo the son, 
 
 Without a-gittin ov your hed noct of. 
 
 the son is indulgent, & not a tal snapish ; 
 
 & hes so much biznes, atendin to al the plannits, 
 
 that a-givin ov fits to Comecks is soopirfloous. 
 
 But its a Htle diferent here, so bewair, 
 
 & talk the folowin advise frum a fren: 
 
 We shel alwais be very glad to se you, 
 
 Wen actin ov your part into the grait Sercus, 
 
 & not gittin out ov the ring & a-throwin dert. 
 
 But the idee ov fitin onto sech a scail, 
 
 We cawl prepostrious into the egstreme. 
 
 After al, i doant thine your intenshuns wos cereus : 
 the grait Comeck is too magnannymus 
 to hev sech a nidee. i hoap your felins 
 Hessent bein hirt ; if so, plese talk notis 
 Your admirer is rash almoast to canker, 
 & lashed hisself cuickly into angry waivs 
 wen he wos be4 cuite cam & slepy-like ; 
 & al fur nothin, as we air hapy to se. 
 So doant be rash yourself, Miss Terious Comeck, 
 
Mr. Pepper's Fourth Achievement. 89 
 
 But folow into the trac ov your ilustris predysessers. 
 Your frens into this seckshun air noomeris, 
 & thay expeck the illustris Comeck to doo his dooty — 
 Wich is, to sail around & say nothin to noboddy : 
 Not hittin the plannits, & a-steerin clere ov the stars. 
 
 (n. b.) plese tri & let out a litle moar tail. 
 
A TEDIOUS STORY. 
 
 HoR. O day and night, but this is wondrous strange ! 
 Ham. And therefore as a stranger give it welcome. 
 There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, 
 Than are dreamt of in your philosophy. — Hamlet. 
 
 THE other evening I sat at my table, writing. A 
 little chilly rain was falling, ^nd the wail of the 
 September wind, in the trees, sounded strangely like 
 the hum of a vast mosquito. " Thank Heaven !" I 
 murmured, with much emotion, " the rascally pests 
 will trouble us no more this season 1" This appeared 
 so just a reflection, I laid down my pen, and leaned 
 back in my chair, supporting my head in my hands, 
 spreading my well-turned legs with some compla- 
 cency, and idly musing on a young female friend 
 
"A Tedious Story. 91 
 
 who (by reason, doubtless, of tbe rich, youthfully- 
 pure nectar in her veins), is every season two-thirds 
 devoured by the egregious vampires. At length, 
 rousing from this somnolent reverie, and bending 
 toward my task, I was surprised, and I own a little 
 startled, at seeing an immense, venerable-looking 
 mosquito, resting on the margin at the head of my 
 sheet. I knew the case demanded promptness. 
 " Thus falls the Last of the Mohicans !" I cried, with 
 less wit than exultation, aiming a stroke with my 
 ruler, 
 
 " That might determine, and not need repeat." 
 
 On the instant, the threatened insignificant raised one 
 of its fore-limbs with a deprecatory gesture, and, in 
 the tiniest voice imaginable, cried, " Hold !" 
 
 " Humbug !" interposes the reader : " Away with 
 this Munchausen — this Gulliver ! — Eemember we are 
 not marines ! Try again ! Get a " 
 
 Peace ! 
 
 How know you it was not a miracle, like that 
 which astonished Balaam, a few thousand years ago ? 
 To tell the truth, reader — to confide to you a favor- 
 ite but oddish fancy of mine — I have long believed 
 
92 A Tedious Story. ' 
 
 there are times wlien it is permitted us, if we then 
 desire it, to have communion with the usually mute 
 orders of inferior creation. That such intercourse 
 has been rare, in these latter years, is no proof it is 
 not possible ; and I am sure, if a stupid animal has 
 ever " conversed like a native," a sprightly, intelli- 
 gent, ingenious, cunning insect might be thought to 
 have that power. I confess I have upon occasion 
 addressed cows or other animals, half hoping, half 
 believing, they would not only understand, but speak. 
 I do not doubt I was always apprehended, and feel a 
 little disappointment at having but just been favored 
 in the way I have desired, and not, after all, by an 
 animal (which was my dearest wish), but by an insig- 
 nificant insect, for whose race I have all along enter- 
 tained not only disrespect but hate. 
 
 You shall presently see, my reader, there must have 
 been a purpose in the sudden gift of speech to the 
 insect, having reference to the very feelings I have 
 mentioned. I can very readily imagine your further 
 murmurings of incredulity, and querulous general 
 disapproval. " The mosquito had no organs of 
 speech," you are on the point of remarking. Had 
 the venerable donkey of Scripture ? How know you 
 
A Tedious Story. 93 
 
 this, about the organs? "But his voice would be 
 inaudible," you protest. I think I have observed it 
 was very faint; and one may readily believe my 
 hearing (which is generally excellent), was on that 
 occasion helped by some peculiar state of the air, or 
 of my system. 
 
 But I do not think it dignified to have engaged in 
 this effort to make my relation appear plausible ; per- 
 haps I should have made no digression at all, and 
 have depended for defense on a note at the end. I am 
 in hopes the story will be found to speak for itself, as 
 did the mosquito. 
 
 Now I am naturally a weak and tender-hearted 
 man ; I do never needlessly afflict or maim a living 
 thing, or indeed much mar inanimate ones. I am 
 even particular to have my newspapers preserved, in 
 neat files ; and when one is torn, there is a certain 
 feeling in my breast, growing out of a sense of fitness, 
 just as carelessly torn and lacerated. But a sort of 
 instinct has always prompted me to kill mosquitoes. 
 I have even been led, through a prejudiced estimate, 
 to ask. What were they made for ? 
 
 I own I was a little surprised with the conduct of 
 the venerable insect : but I have since been exercised 
 
94 A Tedious Story. 
 
 witli wondering I was not more astonished. Struck 
 at once with, a sense of the enormitj of the act I con- 
 templated, I dropped my weapon, and said, 
 
 " I beg your pardon — I really had no malice. It 
 was but the mere following a habit." 
 
 " I have no hard feelings, sir," replied the mosquito. 
 "I almost beg your pardon for stopping you, for I 
 could easily have avoided the blow, and left you to 
 your reflections; but I have looked forward to this 
 moment for many a day. Instinct advises me the 
 time has at length arrived when I may safely and 
 profitably communicate with one of your race. You 
 perceive, sir, my size is somewhat unusual ; and when 
 I assure you my age and experience are equally 
 uncommon, you will, I hope, be ready to treat me 
 with more consideration than you have lavished on 
 an innumerable martyred throng of my fellows." 
 
 A sigh, of considerable profundity for such a little 
 body to heave, escaped the loquacious insect, which 
 now paused an instant and panted vigorously for 
 breath, — its former stock of which, considering its 
 volume of voice, I had begun to wonder was not 
 spent before. At length it thus resumed : 
 
 "I do not imagine that anything I could say would 
 
A Tedious Story. 95 
 
 have tlie effect to cliange the opinion your race has 
 of mine. Indeed, my hopes did not look that way. 
 You regard us — reasonably enough, I admit — as 
 bloodthirsty and inhuman creatures. You jest des- 
 perately about our 'warlike trump,' and illustrate 
 your hate, in the absence of physical proof, by the 
 uncomplimentary titles you heap on us, and the gene- 
 ral tone of the language you employ against us. 
 Thus, you would not credit the assertion that the 
 droning sound you dread and stigmatize is a sigh of 
 regret at being obliged to pursue our horrid trade, in 
 obedience to the cursed instincts of our race. We are 
 not fond of blood, but absolutely know of nothing 
 else that will sustain our existence. We must live, 
 you know." 
 
 I was about to quote here the well-known reply 
 of Dr. Johnson to a similar remark. Smiling with 
 melancholy gaiety, and waving a dextral limb as 
 though asking a favor, he immediately continued as 
 follows : 
 
 "I think I anticipate what you would say; at 
 least, I am sure there was some sarcasm in it. But, 
 could you realize it, we are not without our import- 
 ance in the scale of creation, and subserve a purpose 
 
96 A Tedious Story. 
 
 by much, more useful tliaii any your philosophers 
 have grudgingly assigned to us. This, however, 
 though not altogether foreign to my design, is not 
 the subject in my mind and heart at present." 
 
 The mosquito here smiled grimly, and said, " It 
 must doubtless amuse you to hear me speak of these 
 possessions, which you have all along believed were 
 peculiar to the genus homo ; but how could I address 
 you, without a mind; and how exhibit feeling, without 
 a heart? and, I assure you, my kinsmen are not 
 themselves disqualified to boast in that regard. 
 
 " I will proceed to say, my object — which, I con- 
 fess, is a little selfish — has reference more to myself 
 than to my race in general. From my youth, sir — 
 I see you smile again; but a lifetime is a lifetime, 
 whether it be a man's or a mosquito's — from my 
 youth. I have been painfully conscious I am not 
 like other mosquitoes. My life has been spent in 
 lonely thought and distracting speculation. The 
 bitter, jealous, utterly uncharitable tongues of detrac- 
 tion and defamation have been busy against me 
 almost from the hour of my birth. The wittier and 
 more malicious of my race have cracked an infinity 
 of jokes at my expense, while the graver and more 
 
A Tedious Story. 97 
 
 respectable have consistently frowned on all the plans 
 and new ideas I have spread before them. I have 
 aspired, sir, to the character of reformer and philan- 
 thropist. But, alas ! my heart has ever stood in the 
 way of my success. Had I been worldly-minded and 
 sordid, my talents wonld speedily have asserted their 
 claims, and secured me, in their exercise, both honor 
 and wealth. I see you smile again ; you are ready to 
 ask in what consists the 'wealth' of the mosquito? 
 What ! do you fancy we are for ever on the wing, 
 and have ' no home to call our own?' — as one of your 
 great poets, Mr. Bunn, so beautifully and touchingly 
 says ? Try and think better of us. A mosquito with 
 an ordinary sucker can draw, it is calculated, in one 
 flight (which may consume an hour of time as you 
 reckon it), enough sustenence from the veins of your 
 fellow-creatures to answer his needs for a whole day. 
 Of course, then, with the day's work so readily accom- 
 plished, he may dispose of his time pretty much as 
 he pleases ; and were you curious enough, you might 
 chance to find him decorating his abode, or sitting at 
 the feet of some philosopher of our race, learning 
 wisdom, and, I am free to admit, cunning. But I 
 digress: I have intimated to you that I am unfor- 
 
98 A Tedious Story. 
 
 tunate as regards the relations in wliich I stand witli 
 my fellows. It has all along been my fate to be mis- 
 understood, and (of course) unappreciated. My pre- 
 tensions to the character of philosopher have been 
 scouted, and my general claims to excellence unmer- 
 cifully derided. It is hard, sir," said the insect, with 
 much emotion, and betraying once more some symp- 
 toms of fatigue, "it is hard, when one has devoted 
 his life to his race, to be misunderstood and suspected 
 by the very ingrates over whom his spirit has been 
 poured I" 
 
 Here he wrung his lancet in agony, and a micro- 
 scopic tear trembled on his eyelid. I essayed to cheer 
 him ; but, with the mournful flourish of a disengaged 
 fore-limb, he politely waved me back to silence. 
 Having once more recovered his breath and spirits, 
 he steadied himself on several legs hitherto unem- 
 ployed, and proceeded, as follows : 
 
 "I have no desire to bore you, either with my 
 tongue or my 'javelin,' as .we facetiously call it, — and 
 will not, therefore, rehearse the innumerable disap- 
 pointments and mortifying repulses that have been 
 visited on me. I may, perhaps, be pardoned, how- 
 ever, if I mention two of them, as they by much 
 
A Tedious Story. 99 
 
 transcend the others, and stand, like mountains, on 
 what I may, in this connexion, call the general plain 
 of my life. Above a month ago, I broached a long- 
 considered scheme for the public good, which I was 
 confident would be received with approbation and 
 gratitude. Expressed at length, my plan was an 
 'University for the training and perfecting of our 
 youth in the art of pursuing a maintenance with 
 safety and success.' I need not say what were my 
 feelings on achieving but ridicule and abuse, in lieu 
 of that long-courted fame I knew I deserved. ' Ex- 
 perience is the only teacher,' they cried. 'But of 
 what consequence is experience to one who has been 
 crushed in gaining it?' I would respond. 'By my 
 system, few or no valuable lives will be sacrificed; 
 and thus, a reigning fear being quite dethroned, the 
 general happiness must be infinitely promoted.' "With 
 equally cogent arguments did I sustain the other fea- 
 tures of my plan, and combat the several objections 
 that were urged against them. But I was a stranger, 
 and totally unused to the employment of winning 
 friends. I failed; was called a visionary; and was 
 absolutely driven back to my haunts by the jeers and 
 even execrations of the people. Nevertheless, I did 
 
100 A Tedious Story. 
 
 not relax my efforts to serve my kind, and in due 
 time was ready with another plan, this time founded 
 on a principle of benevolence still more abstract, but 
 exacting so little of any one, and working such an 
 immensity of good, on the whole, that I fondly hoped 
 none would seriously object to it, while the many 
 would at once reverse their former hard decision, and 
 welcome joyfully my scheme and me. I will briefly 
 explain : I discovered, quite by accident, while sup- 
 ping on the superabundant blood of an alderman, that 
 by a simultaneous mental and physical effort, the mat- 
 ter usually deposited in the puncture, and operating 
 as a local poison, might be retained; and thus the 
 pains I had often witnessed with tears — obliged to 
 inflict the wound, yet powerless to avert the pain — 
 might be for ever prevented. With a heart boimd- 
 ing with joy, 1 made haste to proclaim my disco- 
 very, — seeing in it a new and quite practical means 
 of not only sparing the human race much pain, but, 
 as a natural consequence, very much lessening the 
 anxiety of that race to compass the extermination of 
 ours." 
 
 " Noble insect !" I could not here avoid exclaiming. 
 
 " You will presently see how highly I must needs 
 
A Tedious Story. loi 
 
 appreciate your generous expressions," returned tlie 
 mosquito, apparently mucli affected. "You will, I 
 hope, believe me, sir, wheil 1 ^sure you tiic^t,^' instead 
 of being hailed as a philantilrOpist, f Was ifniVersally 
 derided as a preposteI^^s^^'Imlki■llea]:tg4.:Iiln^^/'^ 
 advised to by all means put in practice my darling 
 theory without delay. There was even some talk of 
 having me privately strangled, as a no longer tolerable 
 nuisance. It almost broke my heart, sir," said the 
 much-moved insect, struggling with its passion, and 
 soon so far giving way to that tender flood as to cease 
 entirely and vent a diminutive sob. My efforts to 
 comfort and re-assure it were long unsuccessful, but 
 finally were so fortunate as to inspire it with an appear- 
 ance of cheerfulness. 
 
 "I have done," it said, with a sigh. " The gift and 
 privilege of your human speech are at length afforded 
 me ; and I see I have not been mistaken in the one I 
 have selected to hear me rehearse my woes, and hand 
 my name and history down to an admiring pos- 
 terity." 
 
 " I will gladly do as you desire," I hastened to say; 
 " and it shall not be my fault if you are ever for- 
 gotten." 
 
102 A Tedious Story. 
 
 The mosquito, mucTi moved, bowed its acknowledge- 
 ments, and seemed at a loss for expressions sufficiently 
 warm'^(j).c'onvey'it% ■fi^.eiingj* of gratitude and attach- 
 ment. 
 
 A^r:;ffi,ss<'5'4 goiaetbx©^^ I remarked, "Though 
 I have not a superabundant stock of blood in my 
 veins, I would be pleased to have you illustrate your 
 discovery by a painless operation on any part of my 
 body you may select : for, as you justly remark, it is 
 the pain that vexes us,* and not the loss of blood." 
 
 "Nothing would give me greater pleasure," said 
 the mosquito, with an alacrity that a little surprised 
 me, considering its hitherto air of languor. " Many 
 of our race," it said, with sprightliness, "prefer to 
 attack the feet or neck of a subject, as being usually 
 less exposed to the elements, and therefore tenderer, 
 than the hands and face ; but an experienced mosquito 
 is not so particular, and could even get a tolerable 
 living from so unpromising a tract as a thumb-nail." 
 
 With that, the loquacious insect took the air, and 
 was at the point of alighting on my hand, when 
 drawing back timidly, it said, 
 
 " I feel it is weak to doubt you, yet I own I am 
 seized with misgivings lest your old prejudices sur- 
 
A Tedious Story. 103 
 
 prise your newer judgment, and I should be cruslied 
 in the general result." 
 
 This notion appeared so quaintly whimsical I could 
 not forbear laughing, as I re-assured my tiny friend, 
 declaring that, whatever happened, its person should 
 be held absolutely sacred. At length, appearing to 
 have quite overcome its timidity, it alighted on that 
 soft part of my hand between the base of the thumb 
 and the knuckle-joint of the fore finger, and at once 
 inserted its amiable tube. I could not help observing 
 that now it looked uncommonly like a very common 
 mosquito. In my speculations as to the cause of this 
 apparent change, and general admiration of the talented 
 pest, I now think I must have spent a good half- 
 minute ; but then I was surprised to find he had so 
 soon finished his meal. Fancying, all at once, I felt 
 much of the usual pain (and certainly a most pre- 
 posterous swelling at once testified he had not wasted 
 his time), I was about to murmur a little, when he- 
 cut me short by this most expressive gesture : Standing 
 on the summit of the living mound his treachery had 
 raised — which, swelling and rising every moment, 
 seemed destined shortly to place him in apogee — he 
 coiled one of his fore-limbs around his ensanguined 
 
104 ^ Tedious Story. 
 
 tube and flourislied the doubled end of another before 
 it as though turning an imaginary crank fixed in the 
 end. He heightened the effect of this expressive 
 pantomime by pronouncing, in a cheerful, even tri- 
 umphant tone, the sententious apothegm, " Sold ! " 
 Upon which, staying barely to wink his sinister eye 
 in an aggravating but wonderfully knowing manner, 
 he took his flight. 
 
 Somewhat bewildered, I rubbed my eyes a little, 
 although I was never half so wide awake, and groaned 
 in much bitterness of spirit, eyeing meanwhile the 
 huge, inflamed, aching mound of poisoned flesh on 
 my hand. " Sold ! and by such a contemptible little 
 'cus I'" I murmured spitefully, as I went in search of 
 some hartshorn. 
 
From the fatigue of " heavy reading" nothing 
 relieves one so effectually as a quiet and tender 
 strain of genuine poetry — such, perhaps, as the fol- 
 lowing: — 
 
 TO ANGELINA. 
 
 The. — This passion, and the death of a near friend, would 
 go near to make a man look sad. — Midsummer Night's Dream. 
 
 TTOW oft to thee, sweet one-eyed friend, 
 -*--*- Must I confess my errors ! 
 B^ere at thy feet again I bend, 
 In your prim, tidy little room ; 
 And own I envy one, for whom 
 Strabismus has no terrors. 
 
 From hobbies, and that sort of thing, 
 
 Ko man could well be freer ; 
 I sing of twenty when I sing — 
 I talk of hundreds when I talk; 
 But when I tread my lonely walk 
 
 You are my one-eyed dear. 
 5* 
 
lo6 To Angelina. 
 
 Oh ! who can scent that breath, so rich, 
 
 Or note those blooming freckles, 
 Or spy that jaunty wig, (you witch!) 
 "Without admiring you a " heap," 
 And rating you " uncommon " cheap 
 At twenty thousand sheckels ! 
 
 Talk not of gold — for you will bring 
 
 A fortune in your " grinders ; " 
 Those biHous ramblers, staggering, 
 With "ample room and verge" for most 
 To play at "hide (for some are lost) 
 And seek" — with Dental finders I 
 
 The hue of beauty in your nose 
 
 Beats Hogarth's grandest notion ; 
 For his, I think, had but two bows, 
 But yours has half-a-dozen crooks 
 To heighten your angelic looks, 
 And seal my rapt devotion ! 
 
 And need I praise thy skinny lips, 
 Thou well-preserved old angel ! 
 Thou seest my muse but Hghtly skips 
 Those wrinkles — ^which, I doubt me not, 
 Are " Hnes of beauty " too, and ought 
 Not to be deemed a strange ill. 
 
To Angelina. 107 
 
 That sword-like chin I often dream 
 
 Is very near another 
 Owned by myself; and then I seem 
 To smack by instinct — while the paint 
 Which I rub oflf seems like a faint 
 
 Impression of — " My Mother I " 
 
 Graceful machine ! — contrived (Grods I — Tiow ?) 
 
 In some past generation : 
 What is a Ump, when such as thou 
 Are lame ? — ^When we o'er earth have swept,. 
 Where shall we find your match — except 
 
 In your imagination I 
 
 Then take, thou free-gift of the skies — 
 
 With bulbous feet so tiny, 
 Oh ! take, before thy lover dies, 
 His wretched heart, and make it beat 
 Like your prepost'rous Dutch repeat- 
 
 Er, dearest Angelina ! 
 
MR. PEPPER'S FIFTH LABOR. 
 
 THE poet had long been silent. The editor of tlie 
 Knickerbocker had received from some misguided 
 imitator, who thought to step into the shoes of his 
 exemplar, a poem entitled, " Stanzays Adresed to mi 
 Suetart," and which he had declared inadmissable : 
 exclaiming with fervor: "'Is the sword unswayed? 
 Is the chair empty?' Mr. Pepper is 'himself 
 alone I '" At this stage, the following letters arrived, 
 and cleared np the mystery. "We thought it very 
 strange," said the editor, "that a poet like himself, 
 whose reputation has become so thoroughly esta- 
 blished, should be content to repose upon his laurels :" 
 
 " Demosthenes Four-Corners, June 20, 1854. 
 " Mr. Clark, Editor : 
 
 " Sir : Since your fruitless investigations saying that you 
 hoped the sword was not sheathed, or asking if the sword was 
 
Mr. Pepper's Fifth Labor. 109 
 
 sheathed — meaning my friend Mr. Pepper's pen, I conclude — I 
 have now made up my mind to inform you definitely relative to 
 that G-reat man. 
 
 " First : I may say that I adore Mr. Pepper's genius, although 
 different. I am, as you may say, one of his Antipodes. I am 
 his friend. I and Mr. Pepper have sprung up into manhood's 
 ripening Sheaf side by side, and called ourselves Friends from 
 earHest infancy. Sir : He has been a blessing to me : I'm 
 proud to have been the first that see into him, and I discovered 
 much. He has got a mind. He is playful but gloomy : Humor- 
 ous but solemn : Simple but intricate : Pathetic but ridiculous. 
 Sir : I hand you a letter from Mr. Pepper. It reveals much 
 that perhaps ought to be sacred. It was wrote to me, and the 
 Autograph is genuine. I would not lose that letter for five dollars. 
 
 *' I send it because it contains one of those Gems that have so 
 delighted, astonished, and entranced the civiUzed world. It is 
 peculiarly Pepperian. 
 
 " I send the whole letter because a Gem always looks better 
 in a setting. His setting is wonderful. 
 
 " The private hfe of great men is a topic at once interesting 
 and good. Good, because it invites people to leave busy cares 
 and hve as they live. It is no damage to Mr. Pepper, because 
 he will be deprived of the Magazine this summer in consequence 
 of not being within fifty miles of a post-ofl&ce. He will not 
 therefore see it. But pardon me : I keep you from the rich 
 repast in store for your mind. 
 
 " With consideration. Sir : Yours. P. Pepper Popp, 
 
110 Mr. Pepper's Fifth Labor. 
 
 " P.S. You will notice how Mr. Pepper's poetic mind trans- 
 fers bodies of water, when I inform you that the one which he 
 has called Pepper's Lake* is but six rods in width and two 
 feet eight inches in depth. Its former name was ' Mudsucker 
 Pond.' 
 
 " Oh ! the powers of that individual's G-enius ! I am proud that 
 any part of my name resembles his, and I give it prominence in 
 honor of him. p. p. p." 
 
 Pepper's Laik, Oune 15th. 
 
 Deke Feller : 
 
 Wot wood you tliincs ef you shood see me now ! 
 Here i am, a rusty katin, fur away frum evertHng, bi 
 the side ov a lovly egspans ov wotter — ^wicb, as i hev 
 1st discuverd its Beutys, & doant no no other naim, 
 i aph mi oan cignacher to it. 
 
 Hevin retired frum the werld fur a sesun, to com- 
 une with Nacher, & giv mi genus a restin spel, i hv 
 like a nankerite, al aloan bi miself — a-fishin & a- 
 romin & a-seein ov the things gro. i doant wair 
 nothin but a shirt & pant, as here the cloathin is soo- 
 pirfloous ; mi baird hesent ben teched far suthin over a 
 weke, & i looc savig, i ken tel you ! — ^but o how Tran- 
 
 * " That something might serve to perpetuate Greatness and 
 be the Tristing-place fpr Qenus." 
 
Mr. Pepper's Fifth Labor. 1 1 1 
 
 kil i am ! — i hretli now, & slepe cuiet. ime a-gainin al 
 the wile ; & ef I doant stop soon i must hi a noo 
 soot. 
 
 i am a-compoasin a Grait Pome, mi boy, hi spels, & 
 I's in a wile i thro of a htle feller, bi way ov varity. 
 mi genus is ever a-sterrin, & kepes me oncumfertabel 
 moast ov the time, bi resun ov the presher. wot it 
 wood doo ef it hed a chans, i donno. but the conse- 
 kenses wo6d be dredfal to mi helth. You no we 
 Littery men air trubbeld a good dele with pane in the 
 bowls, &c4th. o how i delite to rise with the Son, 
 wen the doo is onto the gras, & wock into the woods 
 wair its dri ! — i hear the Berds a-cherrupin so hapy it 
 maiks me fele bad; & i ask Wi it is ime so mellan- 
 coUy & sad ? — wi Wo kepes a-hangin aroun & maiks 
 me carry his cloak ? No boddy spekes, so i anser : 
 Genus, tliairs the cecrit. o wot a cus wen youve got 
 too much ! — ef i hed a litle moar, ide spine away, 
 & finelly di. as it is, ime verry febel ; so i fish, & 
 dyit strong, & roam into the darknis ov the Ainshen 
 Forrist. You smil, and thine ov Musketer. but youm 
 rong. musketer is a blessing, ef propperly tooc. 
 doant the scrachin maik you onhapy, k aint onhapines 
 the food ov genus ? wi, ime so onmindful i let him 
 
112 Mr. Pepper's Fifth Labor. 
 
 bite, & scaisly doo nothin, — oanly i bev swoar to 
 thine secb a appetite is denid to bewman Beings, 
 musketer must liv. be is tbe part ov profidens as 
 bites, & notbin wotever ken cbaing bim but a-bringin 
 ov bim up bi band, egskews tbe goak. 
 
 i inkerd a naxident wilst a-sabn onto tbe laik tbe 
 utber day. i wos a-lyin onto mi ores in tbe senter ov 
 tbe laik, a-dremin ov Faim &c4tb, & wile so doin i 
 fel into a depe studdy — also sballo wotter, wicb was 
 mity fortinet, wosent it ? i waidid out sloly, a-tbinkin 
 wot a nar escaip it wos ; & tbougt ef it wos deper 
 eny wers nerer tbe sboar ide bi a life-preserver. 
 
 Wilst a-reclinin onto tbe bang, a-dryin on miself bi 
 tbe Son, tbe mews caim suddently, & i compoased 
 tbe folowin lines : 
 
 TO MY LITLE HOUS : 
 
 A-FRUNTIN ONTO THE LAIK. 
 
 o Hous ! — altho you speke not, 
 
 i speke, & say you shant be forgot : 
 
 Altho youm nothin but boards, 
 
 & ov Goald hevent no hoards — 
 
 like\7ais no Wiados, egsept 1 
 
 lite in tl^e bac, to let in the Son, 
 
 (bein wair i slepe and stay wen it rains). 
 
Mr. Pepper's Fifth Labor. 113 
 
 i must say ive tooc no pains 
 to consele my afeckshun fur your presinks. 
 o no ! — altho youm a Hut, your fren thincs 
 a Pallis wood be inconveanyent : 
 Becos no i likes to be sent 
 Wen hese tierd, up 3 or 4 pair stairs 
 to bed. hese got uther Afairs 
 to fateag him onto the 1st floor. 
 
 o no, dare Hous ! — ^Ambishun is ore ; 
 & i liv in you contentid as 
 the Cezar duz into his largist glas 
 Pallis, wich cost 2000 dollers. 
 So it is alius. Kachers scollers 
 lerns how to be hapy evry wair : 
 Wen trubbel cums, they doant cair, 
 But fle away to the Woods 
 & git setteld. Hoo wonts goods, 
 or munny, wen he may git chetid, 
 & hev al ov his hapines defetid 
 Bi a-puttin ov his trust into Prinsis 
 & uther Tirans as doant settel thayr biznis ? 
 
 no, dere Hous ! — giv me Nacher & you, 
 & ile travvil this Werld throo, 
 a-fishin, & a-roamin, & a-compogin potry: 
 & may i be at hoam wen i di. 
 
 Wot doo you thine ov that last line : aint it Huj ? 
 -thats ariginel, mi Boj. Genus dwels into that line. 
 
114 ^^' Pepper's Fifth Labor. 
 
 But i must stop a-ritin. rite to me al about A^icJc- 
 erbocher^ &c4tli. it doant cum here, i wonder ef its 
 stopt a-publishin. i hevent roat fur it now fur a good 
 wile. 
 
 Now mi Boy, be cairful ov your helth, & anser this 
 imejitly. 
 
 frum your fren 
 
 K. N. Pepper. 
 
 JS IS JS 
 ^ m ^ 
 
 ^ i m 
 
 m ^ ^ 
 
A LYTELL GESTE OF LEWYS CLARKE. 
 
 Lead forth, O clarke, the chaunting quire." — Lenora. 
 
 [The origin of this fine old ballad, is enveloped in considerable 
 mystery. It may possibly have been contemporaneous with 
 "Clym of the Clough," or even "The Nut-Browne Mayde;" 
 but a more plausible supposition is, that it was written about the 
 time of (Mr. Pitbladdle thinks a little before) the well-known 
 " Eobyn Hode." It is certainly a very old and very singular' 
 production ; and it is amazing that neither Percy's " Reliques," 
 Eitson's two collections, Evan's " Old Ballads," " The Crown 
 Garland of Grolden Roses," nor indeed any important work, 
 should contain it. It seems to have existed in Folio MS. for 
 many years, and, so far as the editor can learn, has never even 
 sparkled from a broadside, or the pages of a black-letter tract. 
 From some data in the possession of the editor, and furnished 
 by the very old but still intelligent person who sang it to him, 
 it is rendered tolerably certain that the hero, " Lewys Clarke," 
 was the editor of a (for those days) very good magazine, called 
 the Nyher Bogger — whatever that may have meant — and at the 
 time the poem was written had begun to cultivate the full 
 
1 1 6 A Lytell Geste of Lewys Clarke. 
 
 beard — ^being jealous of his friend "Charlys Elyott," a painter, 
 of great celebrity, because Charlys had an uncommonly fine one, 
 of that pattern, and was much admired by the ladies. The 
 appearance of Lewys, at that time — his beard being about a 
 quarter of an inch in length — is said to have been formidable in 
 the extreme. A little boy, aged four years — the son of religious 
 parents — is reported to have been so crazed at the sudden sight 
 of him, as to fall a swearing with great vehemence ; which 
 habit it never afterward left off, much to the grief of those 
 excellent people. It died, of a compound curse, after Ungering 
 fourteen years in extreme profanity.] 
 
 tl)^ I'mi Jgtte. 
 
 44<WITHE (i) and lyften, gentylmen," 
 <-^ And well my ftorye marke ; 
 " I fhall you tell of a good yeman/* 
 Hys name was Lewys Clarke. 
 
 He was a man that myrthes cowde, (2) 
 
 ** Whiles he walked on grounde ; 
 So courteyfe a yeman as he was one. 
 
 Was never none yfounde." 
 
 Ynne (3) mani bokes had he delyght. 
 
 Yet was he fcaunt of baird : 
 For fliauvynge was he bende betymes 
 
 Ynne mornyng : fo he cared. 
 
 Lewys toke hym a gode wyfe, 
 Shope (4) to hys harts defyres ; 
 Full mony yere he dwalt with hyr, 
 Ynne hows of hys own hyre. 
 
A Lytell Geste of Lewys Clarke. 117 
 
 On (5) tyde (6) he flode ynne hys gardaun 
 
 *' And lened hym to a tre ;" 
 And by hym ftode hys cumly feir, (7) 
 
 And wurds thys Much spake she : 
 
 " Lewys, to thys my rede (8) geffe (9) ere : 
 
 Ynne pyte let thi here, (10) 
 Lyke eremite or goodlye clerk, (11) 
 
 Comen (12) upon thy lere. (13) 
 
 Elf muft I wepe my eyen owt :" 
 
 Hyr (14) teres begond comyn; (15) 
 Then befpake hym Lewys Clarke 
 
 All unto hyr wyth wynne : (16) 
 
 "Gramercy, (17) luve," fayd Lewys, 
 
 And kyft hyr lytell hond ; 
 " Fornewe (18) heft thou fyxit my mynde : (19) 
 
 Thilk (20) teres I pray commond." 
 
 5[|)e Seconk Jgtte. 
 
 4|CW]>YTH (21) and lyften, gentylmen, 
 <^ All that now be here," 
 To Lewys what Ihold nowe befall, 
 Ynne (22) londe where that he were. 
 
 Now is (23) Lewys went to the toun, 
 
 Hys baird he ftrokyt wel ; 
 And preftlye (24) chaunted of a fonge : 
 
 ** Al rowynde my hatte," (25) yt felle. 
 
ii8 A Lytell Geste of Lewys Clarke. 
 
 Then fpake that gentyll yeman : 
 
 The teres ftand ynne hys eyen — 
 " GoDAMARCEY ! (26) longe (27) yehone (28) 
 
 Thilk manli heres of myne ! 
 
 "Thys ylke (29) day Charlys Elyott (30) 
 Sail (31) paynt wone blythe of blee: (32) 
 
 And eke (33) we (34) envye dy nerly. 
 That nere flike (35) baird hath hee." 
 
 Thos pleaufantly hee recht Charlys, 
 
 Woo (36) toke hym for fum noder : (37) 
 
 "Ynne confeyuence, (38) neybor, wold you goo ? (39) 
 I lyk not of your odour." 
 
 Sone as Elyott kent (40) Lewys, 
 
 Hym feyd : " Now, Lewys, doe 
 Ynne pyte choppe (41) for hewman feem. 
 
 Or call me frend ne mo." (42) 
 
 " Alas !" then fayd good Lewys, 
 
 " Alas, what have I do ! (43) 
 What ys to me a flowynge baird, 
 
 Yf Charlys ys my foo ?" (44) 
 
 Now have Lewys ifwore hys othe. 
 
 For home hee begond to serch: 
 He was as will of rede, (45) ynne trouthe. 
 
 As ever was hare ynne Merch. 
 
 EXPLYCIT m LEWYS CLARKE AND CHARLYS ELYOTT: 
 QUOTH JACQUES MAURICE. 
 
A Lytell Geste of Lewys Clarke. 119 
 
 1. Crowd up. 2. Could raise a laugh at his own expense. 3. 
 In : not hotel. 4. Constructed. 5. One : half of two. 6. 
 Morning before breakfast. 7. Own heart's queen. 8. Advice : 
 gratis. 9. Give, or lend, according to disposition. 10. In fact, 
 neither here nor there. The word is significant of bristles. 11. 
 Savan. 12. The same without the n. 13. Cheek : in which Lewys 
 was not lacking. 14, Lewys's wife's. 15. " Coming, Sir." 16. ^ 
 Joy : not wine. 17. Much obliged to you : no aUuLsion to Parh 
 of that name. 18. Now, if ever. 19. Mind : no great matter. 
 20. These : not silk. 21. Another way of spelling it. 22. The 
 same house. 23. As : youWe one if you don't remember it. 24. 
 Wretchedly, in this case. 25. The title of an ancient hymn. 26. 
 God be thanked. 27. Along of. 28. Each one: not OchI 
 Hone! 29. Very: very likely. 30. Pinxit. 31. Shall 3#no^ 
 Sarah. 32. Of majestic countenance. 33. Also : sometimes 
 Ezekiel. 34. With : as, will you drink we me ? 35. Such-Hke. 
 36. Who: thus, woo be you? 37. Other: not sonnambulist. 
 38. Conscience : a myth : a good joke, to talk of Lewys's con- 
 science. 39. Go : (Of) 40. Kenned : in justice, caned. 41. 
 Change : no small change here. 42. No more : Idng as nexxr as 
 our ancestors thought it prudent to come. 43. Done : as, do brown : 
 meaning, done to that tint. 44. Foe : not foo-foo. 45. Disturbed 
 in mind : displeased : angry : mad. 46. " That's all, about," &c, 
 
 mm 
 
 
MR. PEPPER'S MOURNFUL SIXTH. 
 
 NOW for it. Brace yourself with a little cordial, 
 and then take my hand. Feel along carefully, 
 and — there ; stand still a moment. 
 Mr. PoDD is speaking : 
 
 "Demosthenes Four-Corners, July 20, 1854. 
 
 " Mr. Clark. Editor. Sir : Since I favored you with my 
 last, great changes have obscured the face of the sun of Liberty 
 and Happines, which have been in the Habit of shining in favored 
 spots regular. Despots continue to sway the aspect of things. 
 But their reign is short, Sir. I repeat it : Short. Changes must 
 come. As a significant fact, Mr. Pepper has changed. He is no 
 longer playful. He is gloomy — gloomy. I am afraid his genus 
 is about to sink in a blaze of glory and go out. Yes Sir : I be- 
 gin to be alarmed for his Existence. His heart is too suscepti- 
 ble : Altogether. It has been touched, Sir : Rudely touched. 
 Many of the strings have I fear been snapped. But let the elo- 
 quent and feeling letter he wrote upon the subject tell the tale. 
 
Mr. Pepper's Mournful Sixth. 121 
 
 It will be seen that he is the combined victim of Affection and 
 a Tyrant. But my hand is influenced by the emotions of my 
 heart. It trembles. Adieu. '^ P. Pepped Podd." 
 
 " ' Pepper's laik, guly 12. 
 
 " ' Dere Feller : Hevin I's moar a opertoonity ov cendin you 
 a few hns, i avail miself ov it to I'st, moar pertickeler as i hev 
 much to inform you wich i cant berry into mi oan boosum. 
 
 " ' Podd, Podd, w-ot hapines — wot misery — wot rapcher and 
 goy — wot mizzery & Wo ive sufferd sens i rote be4. it semes 
 moar like a dreme — oanly i no it aint, & a dreme woodent maik 
 me loos so much in boddy. ime thin as a waifer, dere boy — & 
 a good dele witer onto the serfis. mi apetite (wich you no wos 
 alus precaris) hes now dwindeld into nothin, & i doant beleve 
 ive ete a hanful in 4 days, i kepe insid the house & lay onto mi 
 fais, a-groanin dredful, & a-syin al the time i doant groan, but i 
 no it must be a speshy ov ageny to hev to wait long fur a 
 explanashun ov this miss tery. ile releve you in but few werds. 
 
 it wos the 21th ov gune. erly in the mornin. i o my felins 
 
 is sech i doant no as i ken revele. wi did i comens the haroin 
 tale ? but ile subdoo mi emoshuns & persede with camnes. 
 rite pen ! — ^kepe a-ritin. paws not. 
 
 " ' i hed jest got threw a-washing out side the doar, & wos 
 a- wiping miself onto the toul, wen i herd a shrik giv by a butiful 
 yung lady in ageny. i looct around in frensy, & saw nothin. in 
 a instant a 1 hors wagon floo around the corner, drawed by a 
 frantic anunel. in that wagon wos a man a-hoaldin ov the lins 
 & a yung Lady, mi resolooshun wos tooc. i put a stun into 
 
122 Mr. Pepper's Mournful Sixth. 
 
 the toul, & wen the hors caim up i spotted him. he dropt so 
 cuick the man & yung lady boath picht forids, & wos a-pickin 
 thayrselves up wen i turnd around, wot a Vizzion she wos I 
 throo al the dert i cood se Buty I ' Mi preserver !' sed she, in a 
 angihc vois, a-settin ov herselft onto a stun, i floo to her, & 
 maid a faint ov folhn onto 1 ne. ' doant,' said she, ' youl derty 
 your pans :' wich woa troo, besids bein considerit. so i dident, 
 but i tooc her hand & sed she wos welcum to mi servis, wich 
 wos no trubel, & ide be hapy to spot a hors fur her evry day. 
 she smild hevinly, & sed i wos ' A- Jack' (a cmart ainshen.) 1 
 cald her Helin, wich she sed wos a mistaik, as her naim wos 
 Hanah gane Walters, i then sed she hed also mistooc my 
 cignacher, wich wos Mr. K. N. Pepper Esq. Youd orter seen 
 the looc ov surpris & plesyour as her fechers wos spred with 
 wen i opend onto her with that anounsment ! she tooc notis ov 
 me for a' ninstant kind ov wild, then sudently giv way to her 
 emoshuns & wept, in a short time the toul sacherated with her 
 teres, & i wos a-thinkin ov gittin a dry 1, wen she dride up the 
 fount, & she & the man wich she cald pa, as wos hirt onto his 
 hed, staid with me severil days, i red al mi pomes to her, & we 
 got pirty thic. al to I's the Faither rekiverd & anounst that thay 
 must go hoam. ' Ken you leve ?' sed i, in broken ax cents & a 
 thic vois. hers wos thic wen she sed she coodent no way. we 
 then hugd. wot bliss ! but the crule Faither put in his ore, & 
 Al wos ore. he hed to choak her of. as he wos a-levin he 
 remarct that he wos werth $900 dolars, & he thougt it wos redic- 
 kalus, raither. but ef it wos spoart to him, it wos deth to me & 
 
Mr. Pepper's Mournful Sixth. 123 
 
 her. She sed 2 or 3 times she shoodent ete eny thing ; & the 
 onfelin Rech at last spoak & sed it wood saiv vittels. Wen thay 
 disapeard roun the corner — she a-\vaivin her hankerchif, i a- 
 hoaldin up mi hans in mewt dispair, — i sunc onto the floar, & in 
 my ageny toar of al mi vest buttons in 1 gerk, & struc sumthin 
 hard onto the floar. it wos 1 ov mi aingels puf-coams, as fel in 
 the hart rending struggel. i dident mind the ile, but kist it al 
 the rest ov the day. its be4 me now. its al as kepes me aliv. 
 heres wot i rote wen i becum cam enuf to hoald a pen : 
 
 "'TO THE AINGEL AS IS GON. 
 
 ' ' o Hanah, Hanah, Han ah dere : 
 
 GANE Walters I wers the vizzhun now ? 
 Dispers fur ever moar i fere 
 
 (bi) Your Faither with the angry Brow. 
 
 " ' o Hannah ! ken i say youm gon ? 
 
 To a onkind Fait must Pepper bow ? 
 A. • then wele pile our cursis on — 
 
 (to) Your Faither with the angry Brow. 
 
 " * wot a load to carry round ! 
 To fre hisself he donno how : 
 A onhapy man now wock the ground — 
 (its) Your Faither with the angry Brow. 
 
 " ' but, lovly Hanah, doant dispair, 
 
 doant talk on bad, doant rais no row ; 
 1 man '11 feel remors & cair — 
 
 (its) Your Faither with the angry Brow. 
 
124 ^^* Pepper's Mournful Sixth. 
 
 " ' wot chaing hes cum it oar our dremes ! 
 Wot Hap'nis I's, wot miz'ry now! 
 But Grustis lay the blaim, it semes, 
 
 (onto) Your Faither with the angry Brow. 
 
 " ' in Graiv we mete, ef no waris els, 
 
 Mi Hanah dere, i make a vow — 
 Or sooner ef Deth the spirrit cuels 
 
 (ov) Your Faither with the angry Brow. 
 
 " ' o PoDD, PoDD — i wos afraid i shood di be4 i got that dun. 
 but its dun now, & i doant no wether to send it to her or let it 
 be found amungst mi efex. ef i doant hury it wil be the last. 
 Dere Podd, good bi — ^peraps fur ever. Podd good bi, good bi. 
 I's moar good bi, from your old fren 
 
 K. N. Pepper. 
 
 " ' n. b. encloased is a loc ov mi hair, ef i di, let my funerl 
 be privit. let Hanah ganes puf-coam be berrid with me. tel 
 her i wos troo, & dide fur her. 
 
 "'FairweL k. n. p.' " 
 
ON NOSES. 
 
 " Said Aaron to Moses, 
 ' Let's cut off our noses. 
 Said Moses to Aaron, 
 * It's the fashion to wear 'em.' " 
 
 HOW the above amnsing and authentic anecdote 
 has been preserved to us, would be an interest- 
 ing question for the antiquary. Considering the lapse 
 of time since the date of that remarkable conversation, 
 it ought not to surprise us that so little of the lighter 
 chit-chat of these humorous High Priests should now 
 remain, but rather that <2n?/*crap could have clung to 
 the memory of man for so long a period. Where 
 Aaron acquired a notion so absurd, cannot now be 
 learned. It would appear that the influence of the 
 
126 On Noses. 
 
 more sensible Moses was sufficient to prevent tlie 
 precipitate Aaron from ridding himself of a feature 
 which, however unornamental, was certainly useful, if 
 not indispensable. After reading a statement so dis- 
 paraging, one cannot help losing somewhat of that 
 respect for Aaron which, in a general way, attaches to 
 the cloth. Ko matter if his nasal protuberance was as 
 homely as that of the little boy who complained to his 
 mother that his nose " grew pugger and pugger every 
 day ;" he could on no principle be excused for sever- 
 ing it from the face for which it was made. And if 
 the act proposed would have been one of pure wan- 
 tonness — which we suspect was the case — we cannot 
 find words sufficiently energetic for the adequate ex- 
 pression of our shocked — nay, horrified feelings. On 
 the other hand, we honor Moses with peculiar homage 
 for his manly and dignified stand upon the nose of his 
 friend. Note his gentlemanly deference to the opi- 
 nions and usages of the community. In his laconic 
 but qpmprehensive reply he says only, " It's the fashion 
 to wear 'em." It is propel to infer that this reply had 
 the happiest effect upon Aaron. It presented to him 
 the inconvenience of being without a nose, in connec- 
 tion with the idea of singularity — of being " out of 
 
On Noses. 127 
 
 fashion ;" wliich, in those days — when a man at two 
 or three hundred was still thought young — must have 
 been the most terrible one that Moses could have sug- 
 gested. "We may also believe that Moses had a rever- 
 ence for the nasal feature, as a feature ; and that it 
 pained his sense of fitness and proportion to imagine 
 the human countenance as divested of it. It is this 
 feeling with which we sympathize most deeply in the 
 present article ; for the question of fashion has come 
 to affect the shape, rather than the existence, of the 
 nose. It may sound oddly to some io speak of the 
 nose in this technical way ; but let them ask almost 
 any mother to describe how, by innumerable pinches, 
 she fashioned the noses of her offspring — redeemed 
 them from "pug"-ness, or checked their banian-like 
 tendency to turn toward the root — and they may be- 
 gin to realize that the idea is not absurd. 
 
 Beside the notion of mere servile imitation, in these 
 artist-minded mammas — shaping a nose after the rich 
 Mr. A's, or the fashionable Miss B's — two ideas may 
 be mentioned, as having a particularly controlling 
 effect. First, and most widely prevalent, is that of 
 beauty. Few are insensible to the beauty or effect of 
 a well-turned nose. After the eyes and mouth, per- 
 
128 On Noses. 
 
 haps the nose takes the first place in a description of 
 features. " She's very pretty — ^that is, would be, were 
 it not for that horrid nose ! " or, " what a fine nose 
 Mr. C. has ! " are expressions familiar to every one. 
 The other idea is that of character. There is a great 
 deal of character in a nose. That is, the nose is often 
 made qnite an index of character ; not always, or per- 
 haps often, willingly — ^but insensibly^ and not the less 
 surely. Both these ideas will be further illustrated 
 in the following analysis. 
 
 The Grecianf nose is usually considered the finest 
 and most noble of all the varieties. It is distinguished 
 by its being " well planted" between the brows, and 
 straight upon the ridge, and by its firm, well-turned 
 nostrils. It lends dignity and grace to the counte- 
 nance, and is significant of truth, honor, purity, and 
 delicacy of mind. JSTobleness, openness, and liberality 
 of mind and heart are suggested by it. It may be 
 mentioned here, however, that these signs are by no 
 means infallible, and the same may be said in relation 
 to those which follow. (My pocket was once picked 
 by a Grecian-nosed thief) 
 
 The Roman nose is also much admired, as being 
 indicative of manliness and vigor of mind, and lofti- 
 
On Noses. 129 
 
 ness of purpose. The ridge, instead of being straight, 
 is raised in the middle, generally so as to form an ob- 
 tuse angle, though sometimes it has a continuous 
 curve. This variety of nose is suggestive of strength 
 rather than delicacy of mind, and of prudence than 
 generosity. Both the varieties which have been men- 
 tioned depend much for their favorable significance 
 upon the purity of their " lines," and degree of per 
 fection of " chisseling." 
 
 The Aquiline nose is curved and hooked, like the 
 bill of the eagle. It is usually accompanied by sharp- 
 ness and activity of mind, but is indicative rather of 
 acuteness than solidity. It is also an accompaniment 
 of cunning, selfishness, and rapacity. (If the reader, 
 or his wife, has such a nose, he will of course know 
 the case is an "exception.") 
 
 The Retrousse nose is vulgarly called the " turn-up." 
 It is rarely accompanied by nobleness or greatness of 
 mind, but rather signifies one absorbed by self The 
 possessor of such a nose may be witty, sensitive, and 
 " thin-skinned," but rarely generous, manly, or high- 
 souled. On this kind of nose "hats" have been sus- 
 pended. 
 
 The "Pw^"-nose — the poor little pug-nose; what 
 6^ 
 
130 On Noses. 
 
 need be said of tlie pug-nose ? Everybody knows tbe 
 pug-nose. Not " big enougli to pull," or small enough 
 to be called a wart, it can neither be blown nor worn 
 with satisfaction, and is only possessed by men as 
 little in proportion as the excrescence itself Napo- 
 leon gave small-nosed men a particularly wide berth — 
 and there was reason. 
 
 There are modifications of all these varieties ; and, 
 indeed, a great portion of all the noses may be termed 
 modifications. Then we have the " bottle-nose," the 
 " carbuncle nose," the " rum-blossom nose," the 
 " squab-nose," the ^'flat nose," and the nose with the 
 knob at the end. The next to the last named- variety 
 embraces the African nose. A wide nostril denotes 
 a deep, full chest. A Yerj red and highly -inflamed 
 nose is significant of " apple-jack," which is a " weak- 
 ness." 
 
 "Washington had a very fine, wide-ridged Grecian 
 nose. The Greeks are generally supposed to have 
 Grecian noses. Wellington had a remarkable Eoman 
 nose, and most Eomans have them likewise. John 
 Eandolph and Tristram Burgess had aquiline noses. 
 ^^Turnrup," and "pug" noses are not commonly 
 sported by great men. 
 
On Noses. 131 
 
 A race of people — fhank Heaven becoming extinct 
 — called Yankees, have succeeded in converting tlie 
 nose into a musical instrument, — of wondrous power, 
 but somewhat deficient in sweetness. It is not com- 
 monly considered so good as the natural organ, and, it 
 is to be fervently hoped, will in time be disused. 
 
 We have only to fancy the human countenance 
 divested of the nose, to agree with Moses that the 
 nasal appendage is " very good in its place." The ad- 
 vocates of Aaron's theory are becoming rare. 
 
MR. PEPPER'S GREAT ODE. 
 
 READEK, I have not tlie heart to add to the elo- 
 quent words which follow, introducing to the 
 world what seemed Mr. Pepper's last letter and 
 poem : — 
 
 ''The ' Or eat Pote^ has emerged from the desolateness of his 
 transient rusticity into the light of society and 'frens.' But 
 alas! Pepper is a wreck 1 Let his note 'revele.' Its sombre 
 shadows disclose a ponderous ' wo ' which his sensitive dehcacy 
 alone warns him to withhold, in all its magnitude and tragic 
 horror, from a too-easily-affected community. Phcebus ! how 
 much ' genus ' can suffer, and not ' cave I ' But the reader must 
 not be kept longer in suspense • " 
 
 *' Demosthenes proper, 
 " Octoblr 1th, '54, 
 
 " Mr. L. galerd Clark, esq. : 
 
 " Mr. editer — after a long silens ov uperds ov 8 
 munths (in consekens ov bein fir remoov rum feverything bi a 
 
Mr. Pepper's Great Ode. 133 
 
 laik, a fishin fur mi helth) i hev now returnd hoam to Di. theres 
 no resun wi i shoodent, as i hevent got nothin fur to liv fur, now. 
 mi tale shel never be toald to no boddy — much les to hir. i hev 
 only comunicatid the cecrit to 1 fren. no boddy els coodentbi it 
 fur munny. but i mene to kepe a-ritin potry al the wile, til i 
 cant hoald a pen. then ses i, Goast, go up ! ile welcum deth 
 cuickly, onles a sertin oald tiren soon egspires, wich aint prob- 
 ble, as meen men never di. But the Werld shel thine ime gay 
 — mi pomes shel be rote so cairles. encloased is a noad to the 
 grek Slaiv, wich plese cend to the comitty,* ef not too lait, as i 
 feer. ef so, plees keep the saim, as a me Ment© ov the moril 
 Kerig ov Yours fur a few days oanly, K. N. Pepper. 
 
 "p. s. i doant cair about the $100 dollers. giv the munny 
 to sum yung man as is gest marid to the objeck ov his chois & 
 startin into biznes. wot doo i wont ov munny ? ide hk it per- 
 
 aps ef that oald tiren but i say no moar. egskews my emo- 
 
 shuns. thaym overpowrin & daingerus. k. n. p. 
 
 "A NOAD TO THE GREK SLAIV. 
 
 " I's moar, mi Pen, asoom I's moar the trasis 
 ov blanc Yers : I's moar spring nt0%- into em. 
 doant gerk. go cam & cuiet; but git on fire 
 gradily, mi pen, & giv the subjeck Convulshuns I 
 
 * The " Cosmopohtan Art Association " offered a prize for the 
 best Ode to the Grreek Slave. Mr. Pepper had a mind to con- 
 tend for it. 
 
134 Mr. Pepper's Great Ode. 
 
 " Statoo ! (good hevins ! wers mi i's ? — ime blind !) 
 STUN PicTER ! hail ! — ^in consekens ov your glory 
 i shel be compeld to hev a operashun performd 
 fur Cat a rack, immejitly. i thougt i cood go this slo ; 
 But i se it cant be dun : youm al powrful : 
 your influens is sech, ime al ov a trembel, 
 & fele a sort ov sicnes a-crepin into mi stomic 
 slo but shoor — like a gimblit into a board. 
 
 wos you al sculp frum 1 pese ? say, Perfeckshun ! — 
 hevent you got no goints maid ov putty, nor nothin ? 
 But no ; i feel youm perfeck : i thine, at leest, 
 that poWers's story otto be giv ear to — 
 wich ses youm al hac out ov a marble stun, 
 (imortel powrs ! wot a genus fur sculp !) 
 
 distingguisht Femail ! a-standin thayr onto 1 leg — 
 in silens admired bi hundreds, i supoas — 
 you ken apreshait the felings ov her 
 as went in swimmin, & soon aperin I's moar, 
 discuverd nothin into the plais ov a 
 good soot ov Cloas, as wos a-lyin thayr 
 But 1 short minit previs — supoasd to be hern, 
 (pardon me, grek, %r the alooshun.) 
 But wot need hes Buty, fur menny artikels 
 ov aparril ? how menny ladys you se 
 wich sertinly thine Eve's fashion wos the 
 handyest, but tliay parshelly giv in to custum, 
 out ov the nateral kindnis ov thayr harts ! 
 
Mr. Pepper's Great Ode. 135 
 
 wos that the stile wen you wos animaitid ? 
 then wot did you cawl makin ov a toy ht ? 
 frum your compleckshun i shood thine peraps 
 you dined prinsiply onto your natyv Air. 
 it must hev ben ov a soHder maik than 
 nited Staitsen air, wich is mity thin dyit 
 wen used egscloosiv, as i otto no. 
 
 o Slaiv ^but i leve you to ges wots hapend : 
 
 oanly remarkin that 3 wekes ive Hvd onto it ; 
 But at last poor ITacher hes cum round to vittels. 
 
 " wot butiful hans — so delekit & wite I 
 thats moastly dun bi activly a-doin nothin. 
 i no a yung lady as hes got sech hans — 
 oanly not cuite so very wite & teanty, 
 oin to a crule Faither as maiks her were, 
 her naim is hanah g. W. her feet air larger, 
 But woodent be ef her shoos & stockins wos of. 
 her arm, ef anything, is bigern yourn; 
 & shes raither better lookin into the fais. 
 firther comparrisuns wood be but ges were, 
 owin to the present inconvenyent fashinsj 
 But no dout thay wood be faverbel to hanah. 
 i no her figers shorter, likewais her noas ; 
 But in them fechers statoos must be pardond, 
 fur sculpera hev inoomeribel rinkels. 
 POWRS thincs Buty lays in hite & length — 
 But 1 looc at HANAH wood chaing his hul idee. 
 
136 Mr. Pepper's Great Ode. 
 
 yet hoo wood hev al Buty ov a peese ? 
 
 Statoo ! fur your stile youm perfeck ! 
 
 your looc ov cam disgust is probbly rite, 
 
 altho sum harts wood gladly se thee smiL 
 
 your air is forin, sos your nashun too ; 
 
 you air the verry Picter ov a grek 
 
 in chains, & no dout a 1st chop sampel. 
 
 it doant tan you much to traivil, i se : 
 
 youm probbly well cloathed, exsep wen shoad ; 
 
 then your dres is egstreemly lo in the nee : 
 
 Bein a vizzionery Bloomer, without enny pans- 
 
 or a full dress, posessiv cais under stood. 
 
 " i must now bid you a abrupt adoo, 
 fair Statoo 1 fehn al the distressin simtums 
 ov a pereodikel atact ov pain into the bowls. 
 Marble stun Enteepris 1 — Fair thee wel I ' 
 
PHRENOLOGY OF THE HEAVENS. 
 
 A PAINTING. 
 
 BY MR. PEPPER. 
 
 ON the next page but two, will be found an engrav- 
 ing from a " Shove Dover," by Mr. Pepper — wlio, 
 like T. Buchanan Kead, is an artist-poet. The follow- 
 ing extract from the remarks of J M , the 
 
 eminent critic, it will be perceived, even from the 
 engraving, are profound and lucid, as well as just : 
 
 " This remarkable work is the first of its kind. We are at a 
 loss where to place it. We cannot, perhaps, put it before the 
 greatest of the ' Chef d'oeuvre Productions ' of Landis, the cele- 
 brated apostle of 'High old Art and Literature,' — he of 'the 
 
138 Phrenology of the Heavens. 
 
 Capitol of this Commonwealth, contiguous to which, he ' is a 
 native;' nor can it be placed behind that painting ; for then it 
 could not be seen at all. It must take its own place." 
 
 4c 4: H< :K 4: * H< 
 
 " The chiaro-'scuro effects, in this painting, are very fine : so 
 fine that most unassisted eyes will not be able to perceive them. 
 Mr. Pepper's handling is quite — nay, excessively, free ; and he 
 works up his inspirations with — in short, his brush. His color- 
 ing cannot be excelled, for intensity of blue ; while the general 
 tone, considering the subject, is uncommonly moral. Were we 
 hypercritical, it might be obvious to remark, that the best paint- 
 ers of celestial scenery represent stars with five points instead of 
 six ; but of course it does not become a liberal critic to notice 
 such a trifling blemish : the artist may have seen stars with 
 six points. 
 
 " It is interesting to note those Httle inaccuracies which evince 
 the carelessness of true genius. Thus, the left fore-leg of the 
 bear is fore-shortened too much by about the thirty-second of an 
 inch. But how amply is this oversight atoned for in the extra- 
 ordinary amount of intelligence thrown into the /ace of the bear ! 
 The tip of this celestial animal's nose is full of meaning. And 
 the grace and repose of his figure — ^particularly the tail — chal- 
 lenge the encomium of every lover of extremely High Art. 
 
 " The accessories are well managed ; the artist has them under 
 complete control. Indeed, they have never been managed in 
 quite the same way before. On a careful inspection of certain 
 marks, we cannot resist the impression that the picture was at 
 
Phrenology of the Heavens. 139 
 
 first intended as a mere skiagram ; but that the suggestiveness 
 of the subject induced the artist to fill it up, with all that elabo- 
 rateness of finish now observable in it. How exquisitely faith- 
 ful are the claws of the bear ! How delicately pencilled are his 
 
 ears !" 
 
 * * * * * j(! *• 
 
 " We understand that an engraving of this admirable pamtmg 
 is being prepared, and impressions will be ready for subscribers 
 by about the middle of September. Artists' proofs — with a gift- 
 book — one dollar. Without the gift-book, four cents. 
 
 The exquisite jokes, in parentheses, were invented by Mr. 
 Podd — whose spirits went so high, on the final completion of 
 the painting, that for the space of half an hour his gravity 
 entirely forsook him." 
 
FRE NOLLIG OV THE HEVINS. 
 
 FBOM THE OBIQIKAL PIOTtTEK, IN THE P08SBSBI0N Off 
 
 P. PEPPER PODD, ESQ. 
 
 Miiif'^' 
 
 [Remarc] Heer we hev a picter ov the Hevins, as thay 
 apeerd be4 the stars wos fixt acordin to Act ov congriss : fur 
 "wich we caat be too graitful. Venous — al bloody — is seen onto 
 the rite, gest a-settin — ^peraps fur to hach (wich goak is^pirfeckly 
 arigenal) : G-rait Bair, rampan, with his tail a-flyin, is the prinsi- 
 pal objeck into thefrunt — sed bi Connysoors to hev apecoolyerly 
 sagashus looc out ov his left i : Moon, over the left — wich is a 
 bad sine ; shood chaing with Yenous. (End ov the Remarc.) 
 
 (Desined & painted, & the Remarc compoased, with grait 
 expens — espeshelly the arigenal Goak — ^fur to be shoad bi Mr. 
 Winter: wich^the pris he coodent pay: — remarkin that cheep 
 Genus wos al he cood afoard to encurrig. n.b. no Solt must 
 be put onto the Bairs tail.) 
 
THE LITTLE FRENCHMAN. 
 
 OWI]S"G to tlie continued operation of those natural 
 laws which govern the motions of the earth, and 
 the impossibility of the sun's rays penetrating the 
 bo(fc'es of the planets, it was night in Bugtown. I 
 will conceal nothing : the hour was eleven, and it was 
 dark ! for as yet there was no gas in Bugtown, and 
 the moon was away that night, attending to a little 
 business — ^in fact, pursuing her reflections in the 
 groves of Persia, where she has been, from the ear- 
 liest ages, afflicted with a passion for wandering. I 
 am not prepared, of myself, to assert that it was very 
 dark; but I firmly believe it was, because Eose 
 Water, who had been standing for ten minutes on 
 the steps of her father's house, trying to see her own 
 hand, which she held before her face for that purpose, 
 
142 The Little Frenchman. 
 
 said it was ; and I have no intention of disputing 
 a ladj. An insect — which, in flying about with 
 unusual ardor, had covered itself with perspiration — 
 happening to touch the hand of the lady, just as she 
 had delivered the opinion ascribed to her, and light- 
 ened herself of a ponderous sigh, she added, in a tone 
 of considerable vexation, " And, I declare, it's rain- 
 ing. How provoking !'" A sigh followed, compared 
 with which, the other was as nothing, in point of 
 weight and general dimensions — the latter being 
 decidedly longer, while at least as broad and thick as 
 its predecessor. She then went in. 
 
 [It is probable that a portion of my readers are 
 surprised that I do not lengthen the preceding sen- 
 tence by the addition of the word "lemons;" sup- 
 posing, of course, that our heroine immediately 
 engaged in some unique employment, with consi- 
 derable energy — all of which may be expressed in 
 that brief and elegant phrase. No ; she went in, as 
 I said — feeling sour enough, I dare say, but nothing 
 near as acid as the fruit mentioned. Another intelli- 
 gent and acute portion of my friends are, doubtless, 
 ready to suggest the substitution, for ''went in," of 
 the phrase " turned in," as more comprehensive, and 
 
The Little Frenchman. 143 
 
 savoring of probability, at that hour of the night. I 
 confess I am not smitten with a mania for economy 
 in words. In due time I should, perhaps, have 
 alluded to Eose's going to bed ; though I doubt if I 
 would have been quite so minute, in the description 
 of that process, as Mr. Keats, in his "Eve of St. 
 Agnes." Let all readers leave the narration of the 
 story to me, and read on with child-like confidence in 
 the excellence of its management.] 
 
 Why had Koee Water for so long a time exposed 
 herself to the night air of Bugtown — knowing full 
 well, as she did, that fever-and-ague was prevalent in 
 that section ? It is quite probable that Eose had her 
 own reasons for it. It is no affair of ours. It may 
 not be thought particularly impertinent, however, for 
 me to mention that she was friendly to one Count 
 La Yendre — or "Lavender, the little Frenchman," 
 as he was good-humoredly termed by the boys of 
 the village — who was spending the summer in the 
 country, his home being, since his exile, in New 
 York city. Every one except Eose seemed to think 
 the count of no great account, and found it difficult 
 to account for her preference. 
 
 [I fancy a sneer of ineffable scorn to be wreathing 
 
144 The Little Frenchman. 
 
 the lips of some critical readers. Not for the titled 
 foreigner do they feel that contempt. Oh no ! they 
 already love the little Frenchman. That scorn is for 
 me, the author. " A man who will pun,^^ they say, 
 in tones of cutting severity, " or attempt the ringing 
 of changes on words, merits the contempt of the 
 general reading public, and the reprehension of his 
 friends." All the same to him, if he don't get it. 
 Losing sight of even the truth, in my devotion to a 
 whim, I shall go on to say that — ] 
 
 The little Frenchman could count on one good 
 friend, at least, in Bugtown : one whose slightest taste 
 never ran counter to his own ; one who delighted to 
 hear him recount his Othello-nian adventures — the 
 account of which would often make her heart beat 
 faster than she could count ; one who, to all appear- 
 ance, received the veracious narrative without any 
 hesitation or mental discount : counting the count as 
 honest as any he in the county, or, indeed, the coun- 
 try — not mentioning the continent, as unwilling to 
 countenance that wholesale manner of statement. 
 There ! 
 
 Kose went in. [Which makes the third time I 
 have alluded to that sensible action, and lays me 
 
The Little Frenchman. 145 
 
 open to censure on the score of redundancy in lan- 
 guage. No one but a fool would again repeat the 
 assertion.] Leaving her to grope her way up to her 
 room — muttering, as she went, that the various 
 "stories" were "not so interesting as some she had 
 gone through," I return to the count — whom, by the 
 way, I do not remember to have left. The count 
 was standing — no, I carUt lie : sitting — at his window 
 in the village hotel, at the same hour (the reader 
 will remember — eleven — how significant!) and also 
 chiding, but in bad English, the unpropitious 
 elements. To add to the horrors of his condition, 
 the wretched little Frenchman was drunk. Like any 
 other conquered son of Gaul, he did not seem to be 
 aware of his situation, but conversed with the in- 
 habitants of Pandemonium, and other low society, in 
 a strain of energetic, but tipsy volubility, that must 
 have disgusted even the lowest of that class, and 
 estranged for ever the friendship of the more intelli- 
 gent devils. 
 
 " By gar ! zis is too bad !" he at length remarked — 
 cooHng a little in both language and feeling. " Eose 
 Yattare ! she vill say I am ze dem foo-00-ool ! I vill 
 go, if it shall r-r-rain peech-fork I" So spake brave 
 
 7 
 
146 The Little Frenchman. 
 
 La Yendre, the httle Frenchman — adding the single 
 expletive, "Sacre!" 
 
 [The sagacious reader has, doubtless, already 
 guessed — much to my surprise, and entirely contrary 
 to my intention — that our Gallic friend, the vivacious 
 La Yendre, and Kose Water had made some arrange- 
 ment, probably clandestine, to be consummated that 
 night: say running away, getting married, and 
 coming back, repentant and forgiven, after many 
 years, with a coach-and-six, six children and half-a- 
 dozen servants. "It would be so nice!" murmurs 
 some pretty blue-eyed creature in curls and 'teens. 
 "Just the plot for a short novel," pronounces her 
 literary and elderly sister. Ge-urls, it shall be as you 
 say. That was the plan. I swear to you, that was 
 the plan. Let us watch its fortunes.] 
 
 The solemn tones of the village clock tinkled musi- 
 cally and sadly as they tolled: no — struck: no — 
 marked with feeling emphasis the hour of eleven. 
 The hour-hand gravely pointed to the Koman charac- 
 ters XL, on the dial-face, and, in conjunction with the 
 more mercurial minute-hand, embraced affectionately 
 the hour included between them. Soon the minute- 
 hand, with ill-timed levity, offered to bet his brother 
 
The Little Frenchman. 147 
 
 that he would give him eleven-twelfths of the whole 
 course the start, and overtake him in less than an hour 
 and a half "Done!" said the self-conceited senior, 
 forgetting his dignity in the excitement of the moment, 
 and at once engaging in the race. Racing was no new 
 thing to them ; in fact, they were old hands at it. 
 
 While this undignified farce was acting in the 
 steeple, the little Frenchman, all unconscious of that, 
 and nearly everything else, pursued below his eccen- 
 tric course towards the dwelling of his charmer. 
 When he had arrived within a block or two of the 
 house, continuing his recitations by the way, the 
 shocked and distressed elements could no longer 
 restrain their grief, and wept profusely. Notwith- 
 standing this evidence of atmospheric agony the pro- 
 fane Gaul continued to rail, until he stood beneath the 
 window of Rose Water. It would seem that he felt 
 a little disappointed at the general aspect of things on 
 his arrival. Though straining his eyes to a dangerous 
 degree of tension, he had not been able to discern the 
 rope-ladder hanging from the window of his Dulcinea ; 
 and it would have been a very singular discovery if 
 he had, considering that there was none there. There 
 was no sign of Rose ; no indication of a desire on her 
 
148 The Little Frenchman. 
 
 part to change her quarters, even though she should 
 thus secure the " eligible, well- watered and every way 
 desirable piece of property, soon to be sold." The 
 count had thought he had known what sadness was, 
 in days gone by. Indeed, he had often feelingly 
 observed the same to Rose ; but now he was certain he 
 knew. While his feelings were getting ready to cul- 
 minate in some affecting speech, the window above 
 him slowly raised, and two young ladies peered cauti- 
 ously into the darkness. " There he is 1 — he has come, 
 after all," whispered Rose to her companion, as a flash 
 of lightning for a moment revealed the dripping and 
 melancholy figure of the little Frenchman, now rush- 
 ing to and fro in a state of dismal distress and un- 
 healthy excitement. Was the elopement, then, to 
 take place, and make a happy man of the count, not- 
 withstanding the unpromising aspect of affairs ? We 
 shall see. -^ 
 
 At length, as the accumulative, blighting unhappi- 
 ness of his state, without and within, came upon him 
 with resistless force, he clasped his hands, and gave 
 vent to his injured feelings. 
 
 "By gar! zis is tr-r-riste diffecultee! I shall be 
 mad I Rose Yattare I Yous make dem foo-00-ool 
 
The Little Frenchman. 149 
 
 of me ! It is not kind ! I shall str-r-rike mon head 
 on ze wall! I vill now r-r-run!" — which intention 
 was hardly called for, as he had been running all the 
 while. Nevertheless, it served to quicken the speed 
 of the unhappy Frenchman, who now made directly 
 for the wall as though he were charging a battery. 
 Suddenly he stopped and clapped both his hands to 
 his stomach, losing at once both his color and anima- 
 tion. The bad liquor, the excitement, the rain, and 
 the melancholy had done their office. "I am zee-ee- 
 eek!" whimpered the miserable Httle Frenchman. 
 " I will go back to ze hotel !" He was too thorough- 
 ly plunged in distress to be aware of the smothered 
 laugh which stole down from Kose's window, and fol- 
 lowed him merrily a good distance. 
 
 Mightily glad to reach his destination was the Count 
 La Yendre. Shutting his door on the world with its 
 cares and troubles, including a portion of his share in 
 both, the stiU unhappy Graul stood for a moment con- 
 templating himself in the glass. Then, with a mut- 
 tered " Sacrel" the little Frenchman, now thoroughly 
 disgusted, rushed to the bed, threw himself on it, and 
 groaned himself to sleep. 
 
A POEM (AND POET) CUT SHORT. 
 
 " One dem*d grind." — Mantalini. 
 
 SHADE of Mother G-oose : that long since fled 
 (No one knows when, exactly,) to the sky : 
 Bend, pr'ythee, bend thy venerable head — 
 
 Look down, good Grhost, if with but half-an-eye, 
 And see a struggling poet rhyming here. 
 Oh I for a moment lay your knitting by 
 For work more fitting : write, make blunders, cry- 
 Drop but a line, a stitch — a pitying tear ; 
 Do anything, to prove you sympathize 
 In his distress ; so will you hush his sighs, 
 Warm his cold heart, inspire his lazy pen — 
 And make him yours devotedly. Amen. 
 
 ANTISTROPHE. 
 
 Methinks a voice, all thin and quavery, cracked, 
 Steals down in whispers : " I am Mother Goose. 
 
A Poem (and Poet) cut short. 151 
 
 Take my advice : Unless bv Want attacked, 
 
 Never again thy Pegasus unloose : 
 For I should now be Uving on the earth, 
 
 If Fate had with my genius made a truce, 
 
 Consigned my well-known Melodies to the deuce. 
 And spared those labouring pains which marlred their birth:" 
 
 And here, a sob assaults my tender ear. 
 
 So natural and " old," I think it queer 
 Those vocal sounds should have the least existence, 
 Just travelled, quavering, such an awful distance. 
 
 EPODE. 
 
 Good heavens 1 — can it be so — is " Mother" right? 
 
 Is " G-oose" aufait in matters of this kind ? — 
 Matron, Sage-ess, Wisdom's Shade I — this night 
 
 I bend an old twig to your turn of mind. 
 The world should know, that a tremendous poet 
 
 Majestically leaves himself behind — 
 
 Himself thus martyrs, whistles down the wind. 
 'Tis sad to have much genius (and to know it) — 
 
 Compelled to choke it down, or lose a life ; 
 
 But she was all unequal to the strife, — 
 And I — my poems, or my breath resigning, 
 Make now my choice — and straightway stop my whining. 
 
A PAUSE. 
 
 PEEHAPS it is just as well, my tender-hearted 
 reader, to postpone the shock of Mr. Pepper's 
 harrowing next. Suffer yourself to be detained a 
 little while by a few trifles. 
 
 Try a crumb from the Orient : — 
 
 FABLE FROM THE ARABIC. 
 
 One morning the Sun said to himself: " This is the day I have 
 fixed on for the annihilation of Raschid al Ferez, the bareheaded 
 despiser of my power. The wretch must die ! I have said it." 
 He then began to travel over the sandy plain, which soon was 
 ready to fuse with the extraordinary heat. But what astound- 
 ing sight has filled the sun with wonder, and checked his blazing 
 progress across the heavens? Raschid al Ferez is no longer 
 bareheaded! " Alas! " said the over-heated luminary, in a ter- 
 rible perspiration, "why am I always a day too late? A friend 
 
A Pause. 153 
 
 to my intended victim has robbed me of my prey by sending 
 him, from New York, one of ' Whang's Gossamer Hats.' I know 
 them I They are proof against anything I can do in Arabia. 
 When I get directly over the comer of Broadway and T'other 
 Street, I will endeavor to burn up their establishment."* 
 
 Or a sententious and oracular home-made tit-bit: — 
 
 A HAPPY EXPEDIENT. 
 
 One day, when Time was young, the Graces, clustering round 
 him, desired to know how long he was to exist. Conscious of 
 his ignorance, but, because his locks were already grey, wish- 
 ing to be thought wise, he thus rephed : 
 
 " For Man was I created. He dies : to him I exist no longer." 
 (This is very funny.) 
 
 Or a sentimental taste : — 
 
 ,^ - UNREST. 
 
 Alas 1 what strangers we are to sweet content I What trifles 
 move us ! Geometricians tell us points have " neither length, 
 breadth, nor thickness, but position only." Our school-days 
 being over, how many of us — dwelling in blest obscurity, but 
 lacking neither in length, breadth, nor thickness — are ever vainly 
 sighing to be points ! 
 
 * Picked up in the street: supposed to be intended as an 
 advertisement 
 
 7* I 
 
154 ^ Pause. 
 
 Or a narrative and anecdotical morsel :— 
 
 AUTHENTIC INCIDENT IN WASHINGTON'S 
 LIFE. 
 
 Washington was one day walking in his front yard, when 
 who should come in, unperceived, but La Fayette. Bursting 
 with the humor of his idea, the Marquis stole up to the General 
 and slapping him on the back, roared out: " Wash 1 my old boy 
 — ^how are you?" ''Tol'ble, Mac," said Washington, with that 
 perfect self-possession which he always exhibited, — " I feel — but 
 stop : I smell dinner ! Wait here a few minutes, and I'll fetch 
 you out a bite." 
 
 Or a biograpLical slice : — 
 
 TORRICELLI. - 
 
 This was the Italian gentleman who discovered the vacuum. 
 While engaged in a busthng search for it, he originated a style of 
 answer to impertinent inquiries, that has since become common. 
 His inquisitive uncle observed the flurry he was in, and cried : 
 "What are you looking for, Torry?" '■''Oh., nothing, ^^ was the 
 reply, — which both incensed and silenced the old man. Torri- 
 ceUi, being a man of genius, was modest, and did not make much 
 of his discovery ; but modern scientific men affect to see a good 
 deal in it. Nature is said to abhor a vacuum : but it is thought 
 she resembles many other solid old women, who are remarkable 
 for making a prodigious fuss about nothing at all. 
 
 Or a jojjose sip or two : — 
 
A Pause. 155 
 
 A HEAVY JOKE. 
 
 (expected to go the rounds.) 
 
 The most amusing geological curiosity is a " G-rin' stone ! " 
 
 ANOTHER. 
 
 The most emblematical one (significant of a stupid cow-fight) 
 is the greenish mineral '' Hornblende." 
 
 CONUNDRUM. 
 
 Why is this book like the Eussians at Sebastopol ? 
 Because it is pretty well Pepper-ed. 
 
 Or an epigrammatic final puff: — 
 
 JENNY LIND's LAST NOTE. 
 
 A-sighing in her garden, one damp morning, 
 She looked where Groldy in the window sat — 
 Who, dozing there, that moment dropped his hat. 
 She picked it up, the act with song adorning. 
 But stopped, in both, — that instant having warning 
 Her sighs would hardly let her reach A flat. 
 
 " But, soft : behold I " A Tribute to Genus. Thus 
 Clark, with energy : 
 
 '' Mr. U. C. Skippers sends us ' A Dress to K.N. Pepper,' from 
 which we segregate the following. But, Mr. Skippers, Pepper 
 can't be imitated — ^he can only be approached at a very great 
 distance : " 
 
156 
 
 A Pause. 
 
 " Great Pepper I thou star ov 1st magnitude 
 In the Utterrary cistern, receve mi offerinks 
 In yur own stile ov blanc vers witch dont 
 Yu nevr fursak. Youm eeny about the fust 
 Poik livin witch kums up 2 mi idees. 
 Wat a free an unparalel han yu strik the 
 Kords with, dont yu ? Youm grat 1 youm punkins 1 
 ****** 
 
 Yu ken sale on, grat barb, Hke the elektrik spare 
 
 "Witch darts the hevinks thru an rips the klowds 
 
 Considrable, an sumtimes strikes barns ; 
 
 Jes so youl rip the klowds of ignerens & erer. 
 
 Yu ken beet eny Hvin peek & not | tri 
 
 He bet, with yur rite han tide behin ye." 
 
 
 
 Si 
 
MR. PEPPER WALKS IN THE "VAL- 
 LEY OF SHADOWS." 
 
 THEKE is much, in Civil War, to justify our fears 
 wlien threatened with it: much, very much, in 
 Toothache. But when a man, and that man a poet : 
 a man of imagination, feeling, sympathy, affection : 
 has reasoned with himself, and come to the conclusion 
 that Suicide is the only thing that can make existence 
 supportable, we infer at once, that man has suffered^ 
 and very likely been unable to sleep much for several 
 nights. We know it I 
 
 Keader I fancy yourself possessed of the organiza- 
 tion of a Pepper. It is hard to do it, but — ^fancy it. 
 Then, in imagination, overwhelm your gentle spirit 
 with misfortune, neglect, enmity, disappointment, 
 and the hereditary misery of Genius : go on, — ^goad- 
 
158 Walks in the Valley of Shadows. 
 
 ing yourself to that pitch of madness that life becomes 
 " a burthen and a curse :" keep up this unpleasant 
 "posture of affairs" a few days or weeks: — then cal- 
 culate yourself up, and see what you come to. You 
 will think (and Skippers will agree) that it is " not 
 exactly the cheese" to be in, a great while. You may 
 have desperate thoughts of — ^but no ; even then, com- 
 pared with Peppee, you would be happy. For he 
 must leave the angelic Hannah Jane. The "rub" 
 was to rub himself out of her society; and not to 
 yield up beefsteak and the light of day. That part 
 cannot be imagined. 
 
 The annexed correspondence, when it appeared in 
 the Knickerbocker Magazine, spread (very evenly) a 
 gloom over the continent of North America, from 
 the Isthmus of Darien to 82° 50' ; which is giving 
 Melancholy the largest latitude that can be afforded 
 in the present state of our geographical knowledge : 
 
 " Demosthenes Four-Corners, Jan. 10, 1866. 
 
 "Mr. Clark: Editor: 
 
 " Sir : After reading the inclosed letter which I have just had 
 the melancholy Pleasure of receiving from our mutual friend Mr. 
 K. N. Pepper, Esq., you will of course lay aside all other Con- 
 siderations and weep with me. Sir : Tears are good. He was 
 
Walks in the Valley of Shadows. 159 
 
 worth rivers of them, or, if I am extravagant, creeks. I say 
 was, for I consider him a Eehct. He was, but is not. He is 
 dead to the world, although he may feel alive. He is a singular 
 instance of the experimentwm Crucis. It is not too much to say 
 that I regret his absence. He has left a void which I fear Aches. 
 My children were wont to greet him playfully, and received 
 Brazihan nuts at intervals. The three-cornered productions of 
 South America may be supplied, but where is the Benefactor ? 
 Perhaps you do not wonder that I am weeping ; perhaps you 
 do not wonder that four children and an angelic Woman have 
 streaks of dirt on their cheeks. You can feel for them. You 
 have been in the same painful situation. 
 
 " But a flood of emotion appears to be rising. I must close 
 before I am carried away. 
 
 " With consideration : Sir : Yours, 
 
 " P. Pepper Podd. 
 
 " P. S. As the Transaction will be unknown to Mr. Pepper, I 
 will send you Part First of the Great Pome as soon as I receive 
 it from him. p. p. p." 
 
 "'Deer Feller: 
 
 "<<^ive fled, fal to were a-makin up your mind as soon as you 
 reed this, & resine yourself to the idee, i no it will hert your 
 fehngs, but it wil soon be over. Pepper is a-goin to kil hisself. 
 His fren Podd wont never, never be a witnes ov his ageny, & 
 ketch his last breth. -His axcents must be waisted onto the 
 desert air, &; his i's wil never be cuverd with smal coins, o the 
 hapines ov a-sayin Fairwel to Wo, & a-lookin for'ids to 
 
l6o Walks in the Valley of Shadows. 
 
 " ' A good time a-comin, Boys, onto the utlier side ov Gordon 1' 
 
 But ive got a grait Were to finish — wich wont be under severil 
 weeks (the saim as i aloodid to last summer wen i felt so gay & 
 hapy). i am a-goin to dedecait it to you into 2 parts, the 1st i 
 wil send soon, you air to kepe it al til you no i have deseized 
 miself: after wich event you may egsersize your plesyour. 
 amungst mi efex is severil smal pomes as i throo off bi od spels. 
 if you ever colect mi wercs, they air to go in. Thers no use a- 
 tryin to find me. ime invizzibel to the hewman Speshy ; ime 
 effectooaily conseled by nothin. 
 
 " * ef i doant git time to rite to you I's moar be4 i 'shovil up 
 this mortel coal' (frum Shaik.) talk this fur the last. Podd, i 
 fele distres. i cant rite. Fairwel. 
 
 " ' frum your suferin but soon releved fren. 
 
 "'KKPeppeb.'" 
 
LAGER BIER LYRIC. 
 
 TAKEN FROM THE LIPS OF AN IMPORTED COCKNEY. 
 
 Sense and reason show the door. 
 
 Call for my bier, and point me to the dust. 
 
 Night Thoughts, 
 LovEL. How much. Sir, may a man with safety drink ; 
 John. Sir, three half pints a day is reasonable ; 
 I care not if you never exceed that quantity. 
 
 y ,,:, / Lamb's John Woodvil-. 
 
 YEN Hingland vos my dwelling-place, an' "boots's" vos my 
 station, _. t 
 
 I thought our hale an* porter vos complete in hopperation ; 
 And not a Scotchman come to us but vos ableeged to hown, 
 That vos the joUiest juice o' malt vich 'e 'ad hever known — 
 The jolliest hever known. 
 
i62 Lager Bier Lyric. 
 
 I couldn't think o' Halbion without a tear o' pride ; 
 An' ven the day vos finished, with my pewter by my side, 
 In 'appiness I'd smoke my pipe, a stoppink for to quaff 
 My liquor, vether it vos porter, hale, or 'alf-an'-'alf — 
 Or jolly 'alf-an'-'alf. 
 
 And ven I vos aboard the ship, a-goink for to leave 
 My native land so fur avay, I 'isted of my sleeve. 
 An' finding of it vet with tears, I vent atween the decks, 
 A-feeUn' wery mis'able without my Double X — 
 My jolly Double X. 
 
 But ven I'd j'ined the stars and stripes, and dropped my hac- 
 
 cent too, 
 I found a German custom 'ere, as vos a Httle new ; 
 So now I takes my Lager Bier vith all the other fellers, 
 And finds it hev'ry block or two in all the hoyster cellars — 
 The jolly hoyster cellars. 
 
 They keeps this precious " Lager " in the joUiest little kegs I 
 And all the more you drinks of it the more you keeps your 
 
 pegs; 
 Vun man 'ad drunk five gallons, and vos takin' of another, 
 Ven, feelin' werry generous, he give it to his brother — 
 His dry and jolly brother. 
 
 The Germans thinks the vorld of it, and veil the fellers may, 
 For it is meat an' drink to 'em, and bed and clothes, they say 
 
Lager Bier Lyric. 163 
 
 And every child has Lager, too, it's fed to ev'ry babby- 
 Por givin' of 'em milk would be to treat 'em rayther shabby — 
 Too jolly mean and shabby. 
 
 The papers they'm hall full of it, heach jolly writer too ; 
 And many says hif you should give the inwentor vot's his due, 
 You'd go and make a saint of him — a sort of Dutch re-Peter, 
 To tell vot time our hale give in to somethink rayther better — ■ 
 The Lager, vich is better. 
 
 So, 'ere's my jolly Germans, vith their jolly yeUow 'air ; 
 My spry and vitty Germans, hall so 'appy and so fair ; 
 And 'ere's the 'uman Blessing as ve prinsiply 'old dear : 
 The jolly, jolly German, as inwented Lager Bier — 
 The jolly Lager Bier. 
 
ON THE CLAM. 
 
 OTHOU queer creature — tliou mixture of meat 
 5 and drink, and miracle of oddity ; tliou that art 
 neifher " animal, vegetable, nor mineral :" in a word, 
 Bivalve ! — look up, and behold thy champion ! 
 
 It was well thus to commence with an apostrophe 
 to the genus. Let me now address myself to the 
 sjpecies. 
 
 Ineffable Clam ! — ^But hold ! what noise was that ? 
 Why this fearM tension ? Startled Clam, allay your 
 fears ; for here no sacrificial knife is thirsting for 
 your vitals. The mouth may " water," the inner 
 man may "yearn" — but shall they be satisfied? 
 The fatal steel is far, indeed, from these bloodless 
 haunts; so are the "pepper and vinegar." In the 
 
On the Clam. 165 
 
 liglit of these encouraging facts, dear Clam, dismiss 
 your agitation; silence your "?," and be ca(Qm. 
 What ! harm thee, dear Clam, after this brief and 
 interesting acquaintance? Eather than see thee in- 
 jured, I would see dozens, yea, bushels of oysters 
 swallowed, and feel no pity. Let us be friends, then ; 
 we are friends. There ! I knew you would be open 
 and frank with me. Now please be quiet till I — • 
 Shut again I " Still suspicious." Too-sensitive 
 Clam. r ^ r \ 
 
 But am I doing justice, either to the character of 
 the Clam or of my own sentiments, by this untimely 
 levity? Far from it; all Clam-dom shall bear me 
 witness. ;^ ; 
 
 It is impossible to contemplate these interesting 
 objects without emotion — a watering of the eyes, and 
 mouth. The genus Bivalve has many varieties, but 
 in none other of these can we feel a tithe of the 
 melancholy interest that attaches to the Clam. 
 Spurned by his aristocratic relative, the oyster, and 
 treated by humans with comparative indifference 
 when both are subjects of contemplation, the Clam, 
 by nature sensitive, feels his degradation deeply; 
 and, although conscious of his many and decided 
 
l66 On the Clam. 
 
 merits, submits meekly to be misunderstood and 
 undervalued, and even to bave bis modesty mistaken 
 for an ignorant and stupid acquiescence. Injured 
 bivalve I Thy delicate organization must needs 
 suffer many rude shocks during thy brief but 
 troubled existence. While thy mental sufferings are 
 of a character and intensity known only to Clams, 
 thy body, after enduring the buffetings of many a 
 rude wave, and the jealous attacks of the injurious 
 oyster, is almost certain to undergo violent torture 
 and a cruel death at the hands of the genus 
 ''homo." 
 
 Inoffensive and long-suffering creature! Is he 
 responsible for the flavor of his flesh ? we indignantly 
 ask ; must his amiable disposition change ? Must he 
 become proud and haughty like his cousin, the 
 oyster ? Must he sink his native dignity of charac- 
 ter, and herd with his fellows, in schools, from a 
 cowardly idea of safety ? Must he leave his modesty 
 and the mud together? The meanest and most 
 pusillanimous Clam in existence would spurn the 
 idea with an indignation approaching to anger^ if 
 Clams are capable of so gross a feeling. No ; thanks 
 to the native independence of his race, each Clam is 
 
On the Clam. 167 
 
 to himself a king, and to his foes an armed republic ! 
 To an equal he never yields ; to a proven superior he 
 sabmits with a graceful dignity. 
 
 In times of peace the Clam is a philosopher ; and, 
 as far as possible, passes his even, quiet, and peaceful 
 life in lofty meditation and the cultivation of the 
 graces. How rational, how pleasing a life is this I 
 Alas! that it should be perpetually disturbed by 
 traditions of a ruthless foe in the upper world ! Ah I 
 could these prove but airy visions whose fabric were 
 baseless ! Alas ! that dread experience proves them 
 but too true ! — A dire calamity cuts short the medita- 
 tions of genius. Into those classic haunts the rake 
 descends; and the peaceful philosopher, feeling that 
 resistance were worse than useless, drops a silent 
 tear — which, were he an oyster, would turn to a 
 pearl — and sighing a tender farewell to his native 
 mud, with Stoical firmness rises to untried scenes in 
 another element. These " untried scenes " are gene- 
 rally of a very harrowing description, and need not 
 be enlarged upon — the single word hnife suggesting 
 as much horror as a kind-hearted person would care 
 to have expressed in words. Even when he escapes 
 
i68 On the Clam. 
 
 this almost inevitable fate, it is only to die a more 
 lingering and cruel death from exposure and neglect ; 
 in fact, he pines away. 
 
 How melancholy, then, is the compliment to 
 human nature when we say, " As happy as a Clam I" 
 Happy! He is never happy, even at "high-tide." 
 Even upon his calmest reveries will intrude the 
 painful thought, the fatal certainty, of final separation 
 from all he holds most dear. Ha'ppy ! When a 
 man is happy he mingles with his fellow men. But 
 when he is wretched, does he not brood in silence 
 over his woes, and cultivate retirement as his only 
 solace ? Tis thus, ah ! yes — thus with the unhappy 
 Clam ! " Wrapped in the solitude of hi^ own origi- 
 nality," and giving his genius play, he may for awhile 
 forget his woes; so do disconsolate mortals. But 
 happy ! Kame it not, even in a jest. Let us not 
 wantonly trifle with feelings doubtless more keen and 
 sensitive than our own. 
 
 There is hope that for the Clam a brighter day is 
 dawning. Already a sense of justice inclines the 
 lover of bivalves to victimize the callous oyster 
 rather than his tender cousin. The oyster is gay 
 
On the Clam. 169 
 
 because he has no fine feelings. He looks down 
 ■upon the modest Clam, who does not care to enter 
 his circle, and while rightly judging his thoughtful 
 connexion unfitted for hollow amusement, he affects 
 to despise while iie really envies him. The oyster is 
 light and trifling ; the Clam, sohd and practical. The 
 latter may improve with time ; the former must retro- 
 grade. If we must choose, then, let our cry be, 
 "Death to the oyster r 
 
 The question has been asked: "Do oysters ever 
 fall in love?" I must answer, rarely, ifeYex] Clams, 
 always. The ordinary oyster is incapable of the 
 sentiment. There can be no more melancholy subject 
 for contemplation than that of a Clam that is the 
 victim of hopeless love. What could sooner check 
 the violence of mirth, and subdue us to a state of 
 trembling commiseration, than the thought of a 
 Clam in tears? But there, I touch a too tender chord. 
 In the ardor of defence I have gone too far. 
 
 If, in the absence of oysters, we are ever reduced 
 to the melancholy necessity of dining off Clams, let 
 us treat them gently : disengaging them quickly from 
 the shell, and, without mangling, effecting an instant 
 
 8 ^ 
 
lyo 
 
 On the Clam. 
 
 deglutition. Then let us invoke the Discontented 
 Shade, and humbly ask forgiveness : pleading a dire 
 necessity, and engaging to so regulate our taste for 
 bivalves, and confirm our discrimination of the 
 species, that we may come to look ijpon the Clam as 
 sacred. 
 
MR. PEPPER'S EIGHTH UPHEAVING. 
 
 READER, liow gladly would I spare tliee every 
 tear thou must shed over the woes of Pepper ! 
 But the stern duty of the faithful chronicler must be 
 done. Read Mr. Podd's affecting note : 
 
 DemostJienes Four Com&ra^ March 12, 1855. 
 " Mr. Clark : Editor : 
 
 " Sir : The Eepository of the most wonderful Poem of modern 
 times has the pleasure of transmitting it to you. It came last 
 night, enveloped in Mystery. If that is too poetical an expres- 
 sion, allow me to substitute Brown Paper — which appeared to 
 have been taken from a package of candles. 
 
 " This will justify the expression. It is significant. No note 
 or direction — explanation. Again significant. His name signed 
 in his own Blood, which Skepticism would call red ink. Alas 1 
 significant ! A faint but perceptive odor of Lanterns. Signifi- 
 cant! 
 
172 Mr. Pepper's Eighth Upheaving. 
 
 " Is it not wonderful ? Was he ever equalled in Pathos by- 
 even Ancient Authors — as, for instance, Gtulliver ? (And be- 
 tween ourselves, Sir, were the Poems of Socrates so remarkable 
 as to forbid the rising Impulse to honor the Descriptive powers 
 of Pepper ?) Sir, in Sickness he is G-reat. All of his Poems 
 show it. He never alludes to sickness without affecting me to 
 tears : in fact, I often feel sick myself. You will not fail to notice 
 his great improvement in Penmanship. I think he has Prac- 
 tised. I know he has. If he did not spurn such things he would 
 always speU as well as he writes. But what part of Genius is 
 orthography ? 
 
 " If he has gone — oh ! if he has ! — and the thought is Mad- 
 ness — or at least unpleasant — ^let us be thankful that his Great 
 Work is finished. It Lives ! And Posterity wiU not (I am con- 
 fident) willingly allow it to Decease ! 
 
 "From a surcharged heart. 
 
 " Yours, P. PEPPER PODD." 
 
 WEELBARER. 
 INTO 2 parts: part the 1th. 
 
 DBDEOATT TO P. PEPPEE PODD BI THE AUTHEE ME. K. N. PEPPEK. ESQ. 
 
 Not that ime in eny thing ov a hurry, o muse, 
 (its cumfertin to no youv got a muse,) 
 Wood i adress Thee on the subjeck ov 
 A large Pome. For varis is the oportoonitys 
 ive giv Thee to wock up to the Captins ofis 
 & their to settel or maik your frend a nofer ; 
 
Mr. Pepper's Eighth Upheaving. 173 
 
 But you hev slited al mi Overtoors. 
 
 o is my preshus muse a-goin to leev 
 
 & finelly be no moar herd ov enywers ? 
 
 Ken nothin worm her (at present) coald shoalder ? 
 
 Eeturn & smile on Pepper, his muse I 
 
 Eemember hees desolved al pardnership 
 
 With evry thing, & is a onhapy Berd 
 
 as thincs ov flyin oanly a few days longer. 
 
 cum & help smooth his delekit wite ploomig, 
 
 & teech his poor vols oanly 1 moar song : 
 
 So then he'll go in pese, & you may find 
 
 consolashun in funerls & sech. 
 
 (Now hevin be praisd — ^mi muse she is a-comin.) 
 
 Go 4th & se the Yelow Berd so hapy I 
 G-o witnes Blu-Gay, a-spoartin in the son I 
 A. se the Ant a-piHn up the dert 
 sereen & smilin, Ukewais industris. 
 Behoald the Elefant, a-floppin ov his eers, 
 Mindles ov Driver wot pecs onto his hed. 
 Sech wos Abner. woshemoar? he wos. 
 His Faither followd chopin, & his Grand 
 Muther wos religis. His oan muther 
 onfortinetly dide from the effecks ov Sassig. 
 as she wos plus wen she thus did di, 
 she tooc her oanly son & frely sed : 
 
174 Mr. Pepper's Eighth Upheaving. 
 
 " Abner, your muther is egspected up, 
 & reely cant stay & talk of her things. 
 Abnek, mi preshus — ^youm a oanly son, 
 & ov coars your bruthers aint noomeris. 
 Wot i say you ken at last depend on. 
 mi prinsipel last werds is, Never Cus. 
 Your Faither, Abner, never did but I's, 
 & he wos sic fur uperds ov 2 vi^ekes." 
 
 so Abner cuicly swoar he woodent cus, 
 & then she looct at him & the oald man : 
 a-regrettin as the Sassig wos so harty : 
 & a-sayin Grood Bi, in a febel vois, 
 Wos a-travelin Hoamerds in about 1 minnit. 
 
 " Abner, shes gon !" the oald man then remarct, 
 Bi way ov comfortin his wepin son : 
 
 "so she is, Faither," the yung man repHed; 
 
 "she wos, a goodun, Abner," thenhesed; 
 
 "so she wos, Faither," the son sed agin : 
 & then the oald man fel I's moar to chopin. 
 
 Abner gest then hed tooc a gob ov weelin 
 Dert frum a seller as a man wos digin. 
 Being wel paid, & very stout hisself, 
 He dident loos no time in bein onhappy. 
 He felt gest hke sum hefty Berd a-flyin, 
 or wel-grode Ant a-bizzyin ov itself; 
 Hede sing & wissel al the hv long day, 
 
Mr. 'Pepper's Eighth Upheaving. 175 
 
 & oanly stop fur vittels & terbacker, 
 
 or at a Pig to gerc a stun so playful. 
 
 o Hapines ! wot maid Thee up & leve ? 
 
 o Fait I wy wos you so fixt that you coodent 
 
 Help a I's deservin yung man cald Abner? 
 
 Alas ! sech is Hewman Nater, i feer. 
 
 Wen maid to go rite, wi shood it be pervers ? 
 
 As wi shood Abner hev spile-t the pirrymid 
 
 ov Blis bi a-settin ov it onto the cmal end ? 
 
 But so he did, in an onfortinet moment, — 
 
 As in the next Part we shel presently sho. 
 
 PART THE 2th. 
 
 MUSE, pervide a hankercher & weep I 
 also, peraps it wil be rite to refews 
 vittels & drinc as long as you ken stan it. 
 Weer a-comin to the dare side ov the picter, 
 Wair WO is roat in blac al round the fraim. 
 Be cairful, muse, in a-roalin up the kertin, 
 as it is maid ov Craip, & is cuite esy toar. 
 
 o hev you seen the fond maternel Hen, 
 With al ov her egs cmashed bi a roothles Fo ? 
 Hev you discuverd Egel, a-cumin down 
 on wings ov Nite, becos hers wos shot 
 of bi a shot-gun ? & the astonished Dog 
 Looe round with indignashun at his tale 
 
176 Mr. Pepper's Eighth Upheaving. 
 
 severd bi crule Boy be4: his i's ? 
 Wot Disapointment fur the helples Dog ! 
 Wot straing Dissatisfacshun fur the Egel 1 
 Wot Wunder fur the long secloodid Hen I 
 Al these hev felt the inflooens ov a chaing. 
 (e-speshelly the onfortinet ca9 Dog.) 
 Hen wos I's hapy — ^Egel wos — Dog wos : 
 Wair air thay now ? at present Chaingd & gon 1 
 
 Abner wos a-weelin. as a Berd wos Abner ; 
 (FeeUn, not weeUn — as a Berd doant weel ;) 
 oft a-playin ov his oald gaim with the Pigs, 
 & a-wissehn cairles, wen he dident sing, 
 or a-thinkin ov Buty as wos fur away. 
 But al to I's the hefty 'barer dropt, 
 fur Abner felt a tiresum fit cum on. 
 Wos Abner huffy ? ime afeerd he wos, 
 Becos the fit wos sudent, onbenoanst-like. 
 He set doun onto the 'barer with a gerk, 
 & in a ninstan keched onto a nail 
 «& toar his pans a gash wich say 3 inches. 
 
 Wos thay a Nevil Spirit a-hangin round 
 About that time, with nothin fur to do ? 
 Wos this the Evil Our ? Wos Perteckshun 
 G-on frum mortels fur about ^ minit ? 
 no matter, now, wot wos gon : Abner Cussed I 
 
Mr. Pepper's Eighth Upheaving. 177 
 
 there wos comoshun amungst things direcly : 
 
 the Hevins shoad simtoms ov a-turnin blac : 
 
 the winds wos evidently a-prepairing fur to houl : 
 
 erth giv a oder Hke rotten pertaters ; 
 
 & wot wos wunderful — Weelbarer Gtroand I 
 
 Evry thing seemd to be a-waitin fur sumthing. 
 About that time, it seems, sumthing cum : 
 Weelbarer Spoak I (Bi the way, Abner 
 Wos a-feUn dredful, as you mite supoas, 
 & altho he wonted to git up, he coodent.) 
 "Abner!" sed the stern Weelbarer, " Abner [ 
 Youm aweer as youv ben a-Cussin, Abner : 
 You swoar to your oald mother how you woodent, 
 & now you'U see L, Abner, perty cuic." 
 so then it riz & pitched him of ov the trac : 
 & the Hevins, as hed ben kindly a-waitin, 
 Dide blac imejitly, & the winds roard 
 cuite s^vig fur sech short notis. Eaither displeesd 
 With the aspec things wos a-wairin jes then, 
 He keched his breth, & put fur sumers els. 
 
 But Egsersize ov runnin spiles the cistim, 
 onles you feel Hke a-goin. So, as these 
 onpleasant sercumstansis follered Abner, 
 He dident engoy the goak. He felt insultid ; 
 His fehngs hed ben teched with a rood hand : 
 Besides, it hert wair he struc frum the 'barer, 
 8* 
 
178 Mr. Pepper's Eighth Upheaving. 
 
 & he wosent wel hisself. He hed setteld 
 
 into a nesy trot fur severil mild, 
 
 a-beginnin fur to hoap fur plesenter wether ; 
 
 Wen ScuEKE 1 Scueke ! Scueke ! he hears a sound behind 
 
 Like a immens Weelbarer a-comin awful I 
 
 o Abner, fli I & to your speed ad wings ! (frum Milton.) 
 No need to tel him, fur the cus did fli. 
 He cairn soon to a Kiver, (bangs wos hi,) 
 & a-thinkin it mite be Gordon, wos afeerd. 
 
 a HtteVsercumstans confermed his suspishins. 
 He heerd the Scueke, & a awful rumbHn sound, 
 & afoar bein cuite prepaired, wos buct in. 
 
 this wos a noo cos for Dissatisfacshun ; 
 So he swum acros the rifs cuite angry-like, 
 But got out so refresht that he maid 2:40 
 With a ese unparaleld, considerin 
 the straingness ov the kedentry. (al this wile 
 the furis wind kep up 1 awful shrik, 
 a-displayin "abilhty ov no common order ; 
 Darcnes wos a-perspirin ov blac inc ; 
 & the elemens generally wos onfrenly.) 
 
 Soon anuther unplesent thing cum up. 
 Abner smelt fire ! & a-lookin al around 
 Saw into the frunt (gest rescuin ov hisself,) 
 a HOAL I it smoakd sum, & hed a fire down in ! 
 He smelt Brimstun I's in a wile ! He heerd 
 
Mr. Pepper's Eighth Upheaving, 179 
 
 Groanin ! He heerd Cussiri ! He lieerd Fites ! 
 
 He wos a-thinkin ov a-goin away kind ov cairles, 
 
 Wen a awful deep vois sed — Pich in, Abner I 
 
 He heerd a rumblin ! Weelbarer cairn up 
 
 & goind into the entrety I Go in, Abner, 
 
 It sed, astonisht at his hangin of: 
 
 & then, cuite axidentel, run agin him. 
 
 He saw the mistaik wos a-goin to proov faitel, 
 So he braist hisself, & giv a shrik as left 
 the furis Wind seclooded into Ekos ; 
 & a-feUn sertin as a nuther oath 
 Woodent be ap fur to increas the expens, 
 He indulged hisself as he wos a-goin doun. 
 
 n. b. let us hoap the last Cus 
 
 wosent notist in the confuzion. 
 
 MORL IS OBVIS. 
 
AN ADVENTURE IN THE DARK. 
 
 (calculated for the MERIDIAN OF SEVERAL SMALL PLACES.) 
 
 Tuesday, August 18. 
 
 ME. EDITOE : — There is not a quieter person in 
 the village than I am : I rarely have an adven- 
 ture, and do not often have the good fortune to be 
 astonished into a new sensation. When I am thus 
 favored, — when I really do have an adventure, — why, 
 all my friends are pretty sure to hear of it, sooner or 
 later. 
 
 Last night — ■ 
 
 It is really a wonder I have so commanded myself I 
 Perhaps you'll not believe me, but actually I have 
 not told a single person (nor any married ones) ; hav- 
 ing determined to be strictly impartial, and tell every 
 body at once. 
 
An Adventure in the Dark. 181 
 
 Last night — 
 
 I am afraid people will not credit so strange a re- 
 cital : it is rare, nowadays, to find any one who has 
 seen the but stop I let me not anticipate. 
 
 Last night — 
 
 I am half a mind, now, to keep it to myself. Yes 
 — no, people will call it an idle tale : yes, I will tell it. 
 It may do some good ; at any rate it will be a relief 
 to me. 
 
 Last night I had occasion to visit the upper part of 
 the town, and was going up the side-walk, in the direc- 
 tion of a certain liberty-pole. It was quite dark, and 
 the hour was late; so I was obliged to proceed 
 with some caution. Notwithstanding qyqtj care, I 
 ran against a post in front of the Doctor's office, and 
 received such a shock as I don't care to experience 
 again very soon. A little farther on, I damaged my- 
 self by a full length contact with the fence, in my 
 anxiety to avoid posts, and then conckided to avail 
 myself of the guidance it afforded. At the corner by 
 the pole, I had taken my bearings, and was about to 
 strike out for the fence on the next corner, when a 
 shrill, though faint feminine voice called out, as though 
 from a distance : 
 
i82 An Adventure in the Dark. 
 
 ''Hallo-o-o-o!" • 
 
 I judged, from tlie tone, that the possessor of the 
 voice was not so much in immediate danger, as in 
 some sort of predicament, in the extrication from 
 which she required aid ; but I had not the shghtest 
 idea what direction I should take. 
 
 " Hallo !" I shouted, in return. 
 
 " Hallo-o-o-o I" again came from the distance. 
 
 " All right, it's up the street," I muttered, starting 
 on. I soon discovered I was mistaken. 
 
 " Don't go^I am up he-e-e-re !" 
 
 As true as I am writing here, Mr. Editor, it came 
 from the top of the liberty-pole ! 
 
 " What the d ^1 are you abo-o-o-ut?" I sang out, 
 
 at the top of my lungs. (I am always a little profane 
 when excited.) 
 
 " Come up and I'll te-e-e-ell you !" replied the odd- 
 ly-situated female. 
 
 Eather provoked that she had not sense enough to 
 come down, instead of inviting me up to break down 
 with her — ^yet determined not to yell again, for obvi 
 ous reasons — I commenced the ascent. 
 
 I reached the " cross-trees " with some difficulty, 
 tut to my surprise found no one there. 
 
An Adventure in the Dark. 183 
 
 "Hallo !" I barked, a little angrily 
 
 " Oh ! how you frightened me !" said the female — 
 apparently about twenty feet higher up. " Don't say 
 another word," she went on, " and you shall soon 
 know why I am here." 
 
 " How do you stick there?" I asked. 
 
 "Oh! I can't tell," she said, " it astonishes me, too. 
 But I must hurry and tell you why I came here. I've 
 been here at least two hours. I was going by that 
 empty house on the corner, when I thought I saw a 
 light shining under the door. ' Something going on 
 here,' I said to myself; ' this must be looked into.' 
 So I mounted the steps, and had just got my eye well 
 to the key-hole, when the door flew open, and two 
 horrible -looking objects, in black, seized me and ran 
 through to the cellar door. A sort of bluish flame 
 was coming up the stairs, and with it a smell of sul- 
 phur that almost choked me. N"otwithstanding my 
 shrieks and struggles, they hurried me down, and left 
 me, half dead, on the ground or pavement of the cel- 
 lar. When I had a little come to myself, I saw that 
 the sulphurous flame came from a large, circular open- 
 ing in the ground, by the side of which sat a being 
 who I at once knew must be the d ^1 ! ! I canH 
 
184 An Adventure in the Dark. 
 
 describe him ! To use a common phrase — ' he must 
 be seen to be appreciated.' Black, diaboHcal, terrible, 
 ■^^iie seemed to chain me where I stood, by the very 
 Inagic of his awful eye ! ' Ha I ha ! old woman I' said 
 he, ' have I caught you at last ? — I don't know what 
 to do with you, now I've got you. You'll set all my 
 dominions by the ears, if I take you with me. Al- 
 though you've done me an immense amount of good 
 in this village, I can't make up my mind to think of 
 you as you deserve. I positively can't keep from de- 
 spising you.' " 
 
 " Eather complimentary, from Am/" I re- 
 marked. 
 
 " Awful, — awful P'' she replied ; — " but don't inter- 
 rupt me. ' Old woman !' said he, * you can't see 
 me, by day-light ; but many a Sunday morning have 
 I sat on the steps of those temples, in which I am so 
 abused, in order to observe the people as they come 
 in. You should see me skip nimbly aside, at times, 
 to avoid being trampled on ; you should see me follow 
 in some old fool who is soon to become my prey, — 
 some sanctimonious hypocrite, grown grey in his 
 whining habits of mock piety, — ^who has almost in- 
 cluded himself in the list of converts to the belief in 
 
An Adventure in the Dark. 185 
 
 Hs holiness. At the cliurch up there on the hill, 
 I have been better pleased at one thing, than I have 
 been in all my travels — pretty extensive, too, they 
 have been. Not even in the larger cities, like ISTew 
 York, is spiritual snobbishness carried farther. They 
 come in so laie^ sometimes, I can't contain myself, 
 but skip about those ample steps for joy ; I climb 
 the lightning-rod, and tap softly on the bell, in mock- 
 ery of their tardiness. — Thafs reverence, is it ? — 
 thais Christian regard for propriety, and the feel- 
 ings of your fellow Christians? Aha! were it not 
 for Fashion, and especially for the respect which 
 those pay her who can't even claim acquaintance 
 with her, I think I should despair of quite a large 
 portion of your fellow creatures. (For the real truth 
 is — ^it is not the fashion, except in some out-of-the- 
 way place like this, to be late at church.) — But — 
 I forget myself. I shall try and like you, old wo- 
 man. It does me good to think of all you're doing 
 for me here. The bickerings, jealousies, and general 
 ill-feelings you create, incite, or circulate, — the mighty 
 mountains you continually make of mole-hills — that 
 kind of service saves me a world of trouble. There ! 
 
l86 An Adventure in the Dark. 
 
 I have hored you long enough. You will stand by 
 me, won't you ?" — What could I do but promise him ? 
 I would have done any thing to get away from that 
 horrid place. He let me go. Before I reached the 
 top of the stairs I looked behind, such was my curio- 
 sity, and he had vanished ; the ground was closed up, 
 and all was smooth as before. Yet such was my fright 
 and agitation, I rushed out, and, for safety, scarcely 
 knowing what I did, climbed this pole, on which I 
 have hung ever since." 
 
 " Got through, have you ?" said I. 
 
 "Yes," she replied, "and I'd thank you, now, to 
 take me from this horrid pole." 
 
 " Who are you?" I asked. 
 
 " I would prefer not to tell you, till you 
 have helped me down ; for I'm afraid my name 
 will prejudice you against me. I may say that I 
 have long resided here — as I find many congenial 
 spirits, and am heartily welcomed to half the homes 
 in town." 
 
 "I ought to know you," I remarked, " for your 
 voice is familiar enough; but I really don't recog- 
 nise you, and I am resolved not to assist you till 
 
An Adventure in the Dark. 187 
 
 you make yourself known." I was thus severe, 
 because, from all she had said, I was a little sus- 
 picious of her. 
 
 "Oh I well," she said, with forced resignation, "if 
 you oblige me, of course I must tell ; for if you leave 
 me here, I shall die — and I have many friends in this 
 village who will weep for me. I belong, sir, to a nu- 
 merous family, mostly daughters. My family name 
 (it is one of great antiquity) is G-ossip. I am some- 
 times called Innuendo (a pretty name, I think), and 
 sometimes. Sneer; but my proper title is Scandal. 
 I—" 
 
 " You needn't go any further," said I ; " and you 
 wonH^ if I can help it. Good night. Miss, and plea- 
 sant dreams." "With that, I descended, unheeding the 
 dismal howling of the hag (or the assurance that she 
 had something interesting to communicate), and stum- 
 bled along home — ^having run into five trees, two posts, 
 and an old cow, besides filling my hands with slivers 
 from the fence. 
 
 Whether the "old woman" finally got down of 
 herself, or was blown away in the night, I know not. 
 She wasn't there this morning, and I discovered no 
 
i88 
 
 An Adventure in the Dark. 
 
 "mangled remains" at tlie foot of tlie pole. I'll bet 
 you a year's subscription she is ahve and well, and has 
 made twenty calls since daylight. 
 
 Your fatigued friend, 
 Bored-to-Death, 
 Chief of the Own-no-doggies, 
 
MR. PEPPER'S ASTONISHING NINTH. 
 
 " Our noble Prince is found ! 
 Let the woods with joy resound." — Cinderella. 
 
 EooM there for Mr. Podd ! 
 
 Demosthenes Four Corners, May 16. 
 U "ITR. CLARK, EDITOR.— Sir: Although the emotion of 
 joy is yet agitating this mortal Frame, I can at least 
 compose myself sufficiently to inform you that the immor- 
 tal Poet still lives ! My despairing search after the Body was 
 changed into a joyful discovery of the Soul, still in connexion 
 with that body. Just as I was giving up the search in despair, I 
 found him recHning upon the summit of a Shed, in the attitude 
 in which he composed that most affecting of Poems, the ' Address 
 to a Bird on the Fence.' His eyes were closed : G-enus was 
 sleeping. Having with some difficulty attained the elevation 
 alluded to, I Joggled him. Over the next ten minutes, with 
 your permission, I will drop a veil. ***** 
 
igo Mr. Pepper's Astonishing Ninth. 
 
 " Sir : He has suffered. He is now at my home, slowly re- 
 covering from the exhaustion and Misery, which he assures me 
 always follow a Great Effort. 
 
 "He has even ventured upon another Poem, in which we 
 discover strong traces of his master Hand. I am confident no 
 other Poet — certainly no mere Philosopher — could so clearly 
 explain his subject, and at the same time bathe it so effectually 
 in the Eternal Waters of Genus. The Arcana of Nature are 
 mere trifles to an Intellect like his. 
 
 " I never shall forget the answer he once gave to the Proposi- 
 tion of a shallow wise Acre. It was so philosophic and so Just. 
 The intelligent Acre said he had no doubt that in digging to- 
 wards the centre of the Earth, we get warmer as we go down. 
 To which Genus (with a face like Stephenses) answered, like an 
 Oracle : ' What makes water the coldest in deep wells ? ' 
 
 " But my feehngs have carried me too far. I could write on 
 this Theme (I think) a week — having, at stated times, a Meal 
 and a few hours' sleep. 
 
 "I send the Poem alluded to, warm from Pepper's Brain. 
 " With consideration. Sir, Yours, 
 
 "P. Pepper Podd." 
 
 Mr. Clark received that Poem. What did he 
 say — what could he have said of it but this : — 
 
 " We thought so ! When we saw the moon in echpse pale 
 her ineffectual Ught in the still mirror of the Tappaan-Zee, we 
 
Mr. Pepper's Astonishing Ninth. 191 
 
 said, 'in'erdly,' 'Surely, surehj Pepper is looking at that pheno- 
 mena ! ' We were right; for here is the proof of it. And what 
 a perfect thing it is, in its way! — what a Torso of a glorious 
 statue of Genus I " — 
 
 EKLIPS. 
 " Behoald the moon, diminisht into nothin I 
 At I's hese chect, his brite career cut of. 
 I's he wos rejoicin that he wos abel 
 to afoard sech a good artikel ov hte, 
 He bein smal & not yet got his groath. 
 But the praises as wos lavisht onto him 
 Hed the efect fur to onsettel his mind. 
 He thougt ov his rivels as wos gellus, 
 & wos afraid hade git hert ; or wots wers 
 to a sensitiv loominery — squencht. 
 
 "His wers feers, alas! air sadly realizd. 
 Altho he wood shine, yet we se he cant : 
 in consekens ov a peculer arraingment 
 Al ov his eforts doant doo no good. Wi did Erth 
 Step in so furis, & elbo of ov the trac 
 The sweet moon as hed delited thousans ? 
 Wi? did i say wi? i sed wi. 
 Evidently becos he wos a-burnin too much ile. 
 He wos a-exertin ov hisself in a onnateral maner. 
 Good he expec to shine so alas? 
 Dident Erth no it ? Dus Erth no eny thing ? 
 
192 Mr. Pepper's Astonishing Ninth. 
 
 lies he administerd a chec onto the occaishun ? 
 
 Wi did the clowds cum up & complect the seen ? 
 
 Wi ? Becos al nacher simpathizes. 
 
 They regelates each uther. Wen 1 goas it 
 
 too fast fur his helth, thay al resun with him, — 
 
 1st mild ; & ef that doant doo no good, 
 
 then raither stronger, as we se. its supoasd 
 
 that 2 or 3 sech corecshuns in a year 
 
 is al as keeps him frum a-maikin a fool ov hisself. 
 
 " But mi muse she is a-levin. Shese afeerd 
 to trust her Pepper sens the Grait Pome, 
 i expec it ivos raither hard on her, 
 Grugin frum mi oan melancolly sitooashun, 
 Wich is Bad. alas ! Hke unfortoonat Moon, 
 the Pote wos too cairles in the yuse ov his ile. 
 His firewercs wos fine, but too egspensiv : 
 So Nacher steps in, noes G-enus concaiv, 
 & he is presently a agerwaited Hewman Eklips 
 ov the wers kind, sech is the misfortoons ov Genus." 
 
PHARAOH : 
 
 A TALE OF BRICKS. 
 
 THEEE unhappily exists a widely-extended preju- 
 dice against Pharaoli. He is charged with hav- 
 ing hindered the children of Israel from leaving their 
 lodgings in Egypt on the first of May, thus forcing 
 them, by construction, to stay another year. 
 
 But how he can have incurred this charge, I cannot 
 conceive, when it is well known that this good king 
 would not lay a straw in their way. True, we are 
 told, and believe, that he refused to let them go : but 
 all hard feelings must melt away when it is known 
 that he was here playing the part of the philanthropist, 
 if the date of the transaction would hardly let him 
 play the Christian. 
 
 9 
 
194 Pharaoh. 
 
 There is a game with cards called Poker, easily 
 to he learned, hut wonderfully fascinating to those 
 who engage in the practice of it. This enticing game 
 was indulged in to a frightful excess hy the younger 
 and even the older Israelites of that day. It is well 
 known that amongst the phraseology peculiar to that 
 game, is found the word ' Go,' which, perverted from 
 its integrity, means to stay^ and stake more money. 
 Now these youthful but sadly profligate Hebrews did 
 nothing, in their leisure hours, but play at poker ; and 
 the suburbs of the city, in which they principally re- 
 sided, would at those times ring with the technical 
 chanting : " I'll GO you three pieces better !" " I'll go 
 you six pieces better !" etc., etc., the sound of which 
 discordant tumult would often reach the ears of the 
 king in his royal palace. Filled with solicitude for 
 the welfare of his beloved people, the good and gene- 
 rous Pharaoh questioned with his prime minister in 
 regard to the best means of suppressing the game, and 
 preventing the ruin of his subjects, speaking as fol- 
 lows: — "I don't want to say. Children of Israel, 
 d — ^n you, you must stop playing Poker! for that 
 would perhaps hurt their feelings, and indeed might 
 end in hurting mine, which you are well aware are 
 
. Pharaoh. 195 
 
 very tender. What are you forward enough to ad- 
 vise ?" Upon which the prime minister bowed three 
 times to the ground, each time casting a httle dirt on 
 his head (which, having watched his opportunity, he 
 took occasion to wipe carefully off on the skirt of the 
 king's robe), and went on in the following tiresome 
 manner : " Your Royal Highness is aware that your 
 Royal Highness could put an end to those pernicious 
 practices among a portion of your Royal Highness's 
 subjects " 
 
 " Stop there !" cried the king, with some irritation; 
 " don't ' Royal Highness' me so much : it's annoy- 
 ing !" 
 
 " Yery well, your Royal " 
 
 " D — n you!" shouted the now enraged king, " I'll 
 have you drowned in my fish-pond if you say that 
 word again !" 
 
 "As your Majesty pleases," said the compliant 
 ministei " As I was going on to say, when your 
 Majesty cursed me " 
 
 "Nor 'Majesty' either," interrupted Pharaoh, get- 
 ting a little unreasonable, which is so very odd in a 
 king. 
 
 " Well, Sir— you old fool '' 
 
1 96 Pharaoh. 
 
 '' There, now — go on," said the pacified Monarch. 
 
 " I think," pursued the minister, "I think " 
 
 "First /'ve heard of it," said Pharaoh. 
 
 " It's 50 !" said the minister, being the first record- 
 ed use of that now common expression, of which he 
 was undoubtedly the originator. 
 
 " Ox at least I was thinking," pursued the conscien- 
 tious minister. 
 
 "Oh!" was the laconic interjection of the king. 
 
 " I was thinking you might give out that there 
 was one word in the Egyptian language, to hear 
 which always afflicts you with a species of moral 
 insanity, and " 
 
 *' "What the d 1 is that ?" cried the profane but 
 
 otherwise exemplary king. 
 
 " Oh ! it's something you'll hear enough of, if 
 you Hve long enough !" which was literally true. 
 
 " Well, go on," said the impatient potentate. 
 
 "You therefore decree that the obnoxious word 
 shall be no longer used — that word being ' GO.' 
 Now, if you rob a game " 
 
 " Ketch me !" chuckled Pharaoh, using a popular 
 phrase of the day. " I ain't like the common run of 
 kings : I don't rob. I ' take' though." 
 
Pharaoh. 197 
 
 " So do I," added the minister. " I was going to 
 say if you take from a game its technical phrases, you 
 destroy it. Think of it, old boy I the abolition of 
 one little word, of two letters, wilL save the twelve 
 tribes of Israel from damnation !" 
 
 "Eloquent, saucy, and correct," said the king. 
 So the edict was issued; and unjust history records, 
 without comment, that Pharaoh would not let the 
 children of Israel go ! 
 
 True, those unfortunate children " didn't like it 
 much," as some of them remarked at the time; it 
 was not in human nature for them to like it. But, at 
 the same moment, they could not justly attach much 
 blame to Pharaoh. Their feelings are perhaps sig- 
 nificantly expressed in the following couplet, which, 
 at jovial meetings of the grand-children of Israel, 
 was wont to be given as a toast, and drunk with 
 groans, and other more antique demonstrations of 
 disapproval: 
 
 " Let the toast ne'er vary, 0, 
 ' Insanity' to Pharaoh I" 
 
 in which amusing lines many affirm to discover only 
 a playftd allusion to the innocent ruse of the king. 
 
198 Pharaoh. 
 
 Many other things might be mentioned of our 
 hero ; as, for instance, his having given its name to 
 the neighboring sea, from a bright expression of his 
 little son, then just three years, ten months, and nine 
 days old; who, being taken for the first time near 
 the water, thought he detected a vermilionish shade 
 in it, and in his laconic way cried out ; " Eed I See I" 
 
 But Pharaoh was not one to be talked about 
 like any common man. "We are apt to insult the 
 shades of great men by " letting on" all we know 
 about them. This is wrong. 
 
 One other little incident may be mentioned, which, 
 as it wound up Pharaoh, may serve to wind up this 
 sketch of him. 
 
 Pharaoh, it is well known, was drowned one fine 
 winter, while skating on the Red Sea. He was follow- 
 ing Moses, who had " dared" him ; but being a much 
 " heftier man than what Moses was," unfortunately 
 " went under" at a thin place, at the same going over 
 Jordan; which (what with his skates, etc.) we may 
 imagine to have been rather " a hard road to travel" 
 than otherwise, particularly as that river was not yet 
 frozen over. It is related that Moses went on, un- 
 consciously, for a dozen miles or more, and then, 
 
Pharaoh. 
 
 199 
 
 thinking it was " mighty still behind," turns around, 
 and finding a reason for it, says: "Where's Pha- 
 raoh?" We may fancy the inimitable sly humor 
 which Moses threw into this remark, as he undoubt- 
 edly fancied he had " distanced him," and knew well 
 enough where he was. He had " rather left him." 
 
 Pharaoh was a good man. Let him requiescat 
 if he wants to, selecting for the locality, C, or any 
 other convenient Eed letter of the alphabet. 
 
 Si 
 
 ^ l&l^ S? 
 
 
DECEMBER IN THE COUNTRY. 
 
 THESE falling flakes, which fill the street— 
 With mud, 
 Cover your cow, which slowly chews 
 
 Its cud, 
 "With such a coat! — so white, and neat! — 
 In spite of this defence against the dews 
 She must feel cold. 
 She's old: 
 You see it in the horn. 
 That monstrous pig — 
 So big 
 And dirty it can well adorn 
 
 " No place Hke home " — 
 Trots forward in its known, invisible trail, 
 (How that deep grunt its fat sides shook !) 
 And sways its tail 
 In agony. 
 
December in the Country. 20 1 
 
 You see 
 How shivering bipeds look, 
 
 And walk, 
 
 And talk : 
 And how they swear ! 
 Good gracious ! Bob — see there I 
 Mud two feet deep ! 
 
 What's in it? 
 Let's take a peep : 
 
 I've seen it I 
 
 What news ? 
 Two overshoes 1 
 
MR. PEPPER'S THRILLING LETTER 
 FROM NEW YORK. 
 
 THE thinness of the poet having become excessive, 
 and, to the affectionate Podd, alarming, that 
 gentleman . reasoned with himself, and finally and 
 munificently concluded to send him to New York, 
 for a change of air; hoping that he would return 
 with health, both of body and mind. Soon after his 
 arrival, he wrote to his benefactor the following 
 letter, giving an account of his varied adventures: 
 
 "St. Nickolas Hous, New York, Oct, 1855. 
 "Fren Podd: 
 
 "Deer Feller: Hevin got setteld into mi new corters, i 
 imejitly remember mi oald reverens & Aw fur your karicter, 
 wich is simular to Washingtons oanly you haint hed no clians 
 to fite & develup ^oi;r talens. Youm a partickelerly mute 
 
Mr. Pepper's Thrilling Letter. 203 
 
 Ham done & a raither ingloris Milton (wich tribyout plees 
 acsept in remembrens ov me.) 
 
 " altho we New Yorkers doant thine nothin ov it, praps a 
 breef discripshun ov this sitj wood be interestin & instrucktiv 
 2 a kedentry feller like you. New York is comprised onto a 
 Hand wich is sevral mild long & raither less brod. the prinsipel 
 road is Brod way, besides wich their is as much as 19 or 20 
 uthers, be the saim moar or less, in varis plaisis is a liburty 
 Poal, oald with aig. this is al i ken thine ov now. so ile giv 
 you discripshun ov mi adventers sens i left your hospital 
 Manshun. 
 
 "It wos al rite onto the boat, dident you notis how the 
 Captins i's sparkeld wen you introdoost me? So''thay did al 
 the way down, he wos a-complainin ov soar i's wen we got 
 heer. he giv me the 1st chop ov everything, &; i dident hev to 
 pay a red sent. I heerd a lady wisper ' hoos that distingish 
 furrin lookin individooal, a lenin so graisfuUy onto his elbo?' 
 wen she found out, she coodent help fallin into luv imejitly. 
 but as i discuverd her faither wos oanly a aldurman, i very 
 properly looct coald onto her. (besides, how cood i furgit 
 Hanah gane!) wen i wos a-comin of ov the boat, the yung 
 lady stood thayr with her frens, & sed, ' heer cums the red- 
 haird foo-foo agin !' wich wos verry kind ov her, as ime alus 
 angshus to be noan. frum the ' red hair,' & not noin wot 'foo- 
 foo ' ment, I thougt at 1st she wos mad a littel ; but a yung man 
 wich i saw aflerwerds sed 'foo-foo' ment 'german Barren,' & 
 that the germans (espeshelly the Barrens) wairs red hair out ov 
 
204 Mr. Pepper's Thrilling Letter. . 
 
 chois. how strong is womans afechshun ! she doant chaing fur 
 nothin. 
 
 "How they pull a feUer onto the docks I wen i got of, 
 sum httel Bois cumd a-runnin up, & sed al to I's — 'cary your 
 carpit-bag, mister I' — techt bi sech kindnes, i wos a-givin ov it 
 to 1 ov em wen a nuther 1 sed — ^ ile cary it fur 5 sents ;' 1 moar 
 yeld, with tears into his i's, '4 sents,' & so thaykep a-goin down, 
 a-hunchin ov ech uther, til 1 sed, ' ile cary it fur nothin,' & as i 
 coodent wait fur em to git to payin me fur the chans, i let the 
 last boy hev it, fur wich privelig he seemd moar thankful than i 
 wos to git it dun so cheep, as i wos a-goin to Nickerhocker Offis 
 1st, i askt a man with a wip wair Brodway wos, & he sed ' 4 
 mild further on,' & askt me ef ' ide hev a carrig — oanly a doler.' 
 noin i coodent afoard it, i toald him i wos fond ov wockin, wich 
 he sed it wos cuite lucky i wos. after goin 3 or 4 blocs i cum,d 
 to a nice wide road & a L ov a nois. i askt a man wot it wos 
 cald, wich looct at me a spel as ef struc with Astonishmeant, & 
 sed — ' wair did you cum frum, greny ? that's Brodway ' — & then i 
 noo the man with the wip hed ben a-lyin. i wos a-goin bac to 
 lie him, but thougt i woodent. 
 
 " wen ide got up a littel ways i met a wel drest yung man 
 wich looct egzackly as i looc into a glass : it wos gest as ef a 
 man wocks out & sees hisself a-comin along, i cood se Genus 
 into his i. he notist i wos a-lookin at him, so he cumd up & 
 sed he thougt he noo me. wen i toald him hoo i wos he went 
 into rapchers, & sed he admird me so much he didnt no as 
 hede be abel to expres hisself. he oferd to show me sum sites, 
 
Mr. Pepper's Thrilling Letter. 205 
 
 BO we went along together, we soon cum to a plais dug out in 
 the side wock wair thay wos a-buildin a cuppel ov uvens-Hke. 
 he sed wede hev wor soon, & them wos to put Bums in, to 
 bio up the British & French, he sed evry hous hed 1 or 2, 
 reddy to tech of. wot a awful plais fur a horstil Army ! i thine 
 i heer somethin go of now — & se about 1000 evacuatin ov the dty. 
 i thine i se a hul Army fall bac ! i thine i heer em cus I & then 
 i thine i doant. 
 
 " Perty soon we cum to a corner, wen mi fren remarct that 
 a man wonted to se him, a few dears down this street, & toald 
 me to wait fur him. i ges hkely he found his fren, fur i waitid 
 so long that foalks toald me to moov on, or els git mi feet out 
 ov the way ; boath ov wich i finelly did. wen i got to 348 i 
 found i hed to cros the road, & bi giminy ! how the drivers 
 swoar at me ! i cum purty neer gittin run over, too, also ov a- 
 fallin down & a-gittin mi pans derty. wen the Boy giv me mi 
 carpit-bag, wot wos mi serpris to hev him put out his hand & say 
 — cum, mister, hand over that shad-scaU ! ' Sech lyin /' i wos 
 so astonisht i stood putrifide to the spot, i raisd mi bag to strike 
 at him, wen he run of, observin — ^perajps i dident se no boddy a- 
 handlin ov your oald silver watch nor noihin /' — wich alas ! Podd, 
 wosent no goak. it wos gone ! i went up stairs with a hevy 
 Hart, & a teer into mi i. 
 
 " wen MR. Hewston discuverd hoo wos his visiter, he manifest 
 deep emoshun ; & a-smoothin ov his gray & wite Baird, sed — 
 *this is the prowdest moment ov mi life I' wich i thougt cuite 
 likly. a yung man cald Sly fel onto his nee, & gaisd at me with 
 
2o6 Mr. Pepper's Thrilling Letter. 
 
 speecliles addorashun. ' Sly,' sed mr. Hewston, ' we woant 
 were no moar to-day. mr. Pepper, air you fond ov Appel ? ' 
 wen i replide i wos, he toald mr. Sly to go out & git me 1 : 
 wich roas & went, i found how rite wos his naim, wen he cairn 
 bac. the Appel hed a peese bit out. wen i remarct onto the 
 goodnes ov proffidens in a-maikin ov the Appel, he sed Appel 
 wos good, then he sed the Publishers Assosiashun, hevin herd 
 1 wos a-comin, wantid me to oner the cristel Palis with mi presens 
 at a Feast ov Anthers, amungst wich i stood so elevatid. ' thayr,' 
 sed he, 'you'll -git lots ov the produckshuns ov the Orcherd, 
 ef you doant git nothin els ;' wich las part he spoak into a melon- 
 colly toan, as i afterwords discuverd he hed resim for. he now 
 giv me a wite card, about 2 foot wide, with ' G. P. P.' roat onto 
 it in ritin, wich evidenly ment — Giv Pepper Plais. eny ways i 
 no it hed that effect. 
 
 " wile i wos a-settin thayr, hoo shood cum in but mr. Clark. 
 he noo me bi instinc, imejitly, & in a Profetic vols sed — ' i noo 
 as how Graitnes wos heer ! & now how doo you find yourself, 
 o yooth ?' — to wich i replide into mi usooal graisful stile ; after 
 wich we went down & hed Clamb onto the I shel. He sed i 
 must go hoam with him, up the river, & inhail the patriotic air 
 ov Washington's Hed |s, & John Anderson's gallus. no sooner 
 sed than dun. at 3 p. m., wich wos a few ours after, we startid ; 
 & into a incredibel short spais ov time we glided oar the lower 
 part ov the Hudson, & found ourselves ^ way up a hill in Pier- 
 mont, a-standin be4 a Butiful cottig, & a-engoyin a splendid vew 
 ov the river, conseeld bi foor. i aint got time, & it woodent be 
 
Mr. Pepper's Thrilling Letter. 207 
 
 fair te tell al about wot i saw, & did, & herd, & thougt, &c., but 
 ile oanly remarc, that thay wos so kind it seemd as ef i wos bac 
 to mi deer fren Podd's agin ! 1 thing as hapend next day efec- 
 
 tid me to teers. wile we wos to dinner, in cum mr. N 
 
 (wich is a fine man) with 3 red peppers, maid into a bokay, 
 wich he sed his wife sent fur a triboot to Genus, mr. Clark 
 got up & maid a Butiful speech, a-presentin ov em to me, & sot 
 down I's moar to his Lam. i tooc the triboot with emoshun, & 
 wen 1 roas to respon, mi teers run so, i coodent. i never wos so 
 afectid into mi life — & i hoap i never shel be agin, at leest not 
 into the saim way. mi apetite was compleetly spile' t. 
 
 •' i thine i must rite about seein the Eelicts ov the Revoloo- 
 shun sum futer time : but i cant help spekin ov mr. Folger, the 
 gentelmanly oaner & proprietor ov the ' 76th Hous.' ef his i 
 shood pirseeve this, may it hte onto it with plesoor & a smil : 
 his wifes i also. 
 
 "i am a-stoppin now at St. Nickolas Hous, becos it sounds so 
 much like Nickerbocker. How different frum mi littel Hous a- 
 fruntin onto the Laikl' altho i git the werth ov mi munny, i 
 shant hev no munny to git the werth ov, ef i stay heer much 
 longer : i shel hev to looc fur a hoam kep bi sum Benevolen 
 femaO, wot gives you cheep vittels. 
 
 " i went up to cristle Palis amungst the uther anthers, & hed 
 a golly time, severil ov em sed how thay coodent thine ov 
 ritin eny moar boocs, now ide commenst. mr. Briant (a pote) 
 with a wite Baird, sed mi stile wos a long shot ahed ov hissen. 
 he confest mi * Orek Slaiv ' cuite noct the spots of ov his ' Tanny- 
 
2o8 Mr. Pepper's Thrilling Letter. 
 
 topsy.'' he sed, oald as he wos he ment to beet me yet : but he 
 ca-a-a-nt, you se ; no youst a-tryin. no dout he'll conclood to stic 
 to his Poast, hke a sensibel man, & not tri to fli like Egul. 
 
 " WAsraNGTON Irving shed teers wen he se me. he sed i re- 
 minded nim ov somnolent Jo, in Pickwic. (wots that, i wunder ?) 
 not to sho mi ignorens, i sed — ' so a grait menny hev toald me ;' 
 wich seemd to pleese him. he sed he wisht he cood go out & 
 drinc with me, but he supoasd hede hev to stay thayr, & droun 
 hisself in the Aquis Elemen. i foun Appel their. Appel wos 
 good. 1 long-windid feller, after hevin a pair ov tin Lungs maid 
 
 (as i am creditably informd) ^but i must stop, ile tel you 
 
 moar in mi next. 
 
 " Yours wile the Vitel Sparc continoos to shine, 
 
 "K. K Pepper. 
 "To P. Pepper Podd, Esq., 
 "Demosthenes: 4. C." 
 
TO VENUS. 
 
 I 
 
 T having been remarked, in the presence of Miss 
 
 , that " Wean-us" was probably the evil 
 
 star of infants, the justly indignant lady felt it incum- 
 bent on her to issue a Yermillion Edict, commanding 
 from the perpetrator of the unfeeling "joke," a Poem 
 and retraction, on pain of perpetual banishment from 
 her presence. Hastily seizing a pencil, the unfortu- 
 nate youth commenced the following lines, just as the 
 clock was striking seven : — 
 
 Most lady-like and admirable Venus ! 
 
 I call upon those worthy " coves" of old — 
 That fifer, Pan, and his rare chum, Silenus, 
 
 To aid me in a liquid measure, bold ; 
 
 And I'm resolved the Afflatus sha'n't get cold 
 Till we have hatched a poem up, between us. 
 And let " some angel guide my pencil ;" (stamped — 
 
210 To Venus. 
 
 "Brookman and Langdon : Ko. 2 :") I'm cramped, 
 But not for thoughts — only for skill to word 'em, 
 They're all mixed up : his Majesty has stirred 'em. 
 These Unes I pen for you ; and if I've blurred 'em. 
 Please to remark : "redudio ad absurdum." 
 
 I know it seems invidious to select, 
 
 To other stars — who can "shine," for they prove it; 
 But they forget. Ma'am, the profound respect 
 
 I feel for you, and what there is to move it. 
 For though you " cast reflections," as they say, 
 
 And borrow splendor from old Father Sun, 
 I'm sure the old man gladly lends a ray 
 
 Or two, to such as you ; — and, now I'm on 
 The subject, I may say, in all affection, 
 That you, without this much abused " reflection," 
 Would not be noticed ; even your connexion 
 With some " First Families" were no protection. 
 
 We're pleased with all your habits, Madame Yenua, 
 
 And only laugh at this vague Stellar charge. 
 We " view" you, oft ; — ^perhaps you may have seen us, 
 With " naked eye" or telescope so large 
 (How small we must look through the other end I) 
 
 Admiring your proportions by the hour. 
 We think a deal of you, celestial friend, 
 
 And learn to hke your odd displays of power. 
 
To Venus. 211 
 
 When you ''get up," you are our " Morning Star" : 
 And when you don't, our " Evening Star" you are. 
 But, pardon me : I'm too familiar quite ; 
 Allow me one verse more — ^and then, good night. 
 
 Pale Goddess ! — Empress of the starry host ! 
 
 Thy gaze serene, it hath a wondrous power : 
 I dream at times thou hast a soul, almost. 
 
 Thy beam doth so ensanctify the hour. 
 And now, thou star, I could a paean raise, 
 In measure grand, triumphant in its praise ! 
 Sweet monitor : so, when I'm lost in sleep. 
 Thy cold, pure beams upon my senses creep : 
 I deem them rays, tinctured with love and truth, 
 Strayed from the altar of immortal yonth ; 
 They flood my soul with rapturous dreams of bliss, 
 And seal each vision with a shadowy kiss. 
 
ANSWERS TO CORRESPONDENTS. 
 
 BY A QUONDAM EDITOR. 
 
 THE LONG AND SHORT OF IT. 
 
 TITILHELMINA ERNESTINA.— Will the Editor of the 
 ' ' Prime Mover tell me what is to be done with a silly fel- 
 low, who lives opposite us, and does nothing, all day, but sit 
 in his window and stare at me and my sisters ? Is there no way 
 of stopping his impertinence ? 
 
 A way — and an effectual one — occurs to us at once. 
 Let the sisters persuade their father to remove to some 
 other quarter of the citj, without letting the young 
 man know the new locality. It must be a serious 
 annoyance to our fair (she must be fair) correspondent, 
 and her (perhaps) equally fair sisters, to be bored 
 throughout the whole of every day, in the manner 
 
Answers to Correspondents. 213 
 
 described. "We presume the young man is the son 
 of wealthy parents ; that he has discovered the secret 
 of living without food or exercise, and that news and 
 knowledge come to him by intuition. We judge this 
 from the described inveteracy of the youth's habits. 
 We have not the right to suggest that Wilhelmina 
 Ernestina and her sisters may look through some 
 others of the (no doubt) numerous windows in their 
 house, or else for a few days absent themselves from 
 their accustomed and (it seems) habitual seats — that 
 the enamored youth may either die of grief, or get the 
 impression that they have gone to the country, and so 
 go to the country too. We say we have not the right 
 to make the above suggestions, because we fancy it 
 would be impertinent. The sisters have doubtless 
 long ago discovered and rejected all our plans in turn,* 
 except, we think, the first — of which we take new oc- 
 casion to remind them. Were we of a violent temper, 
 " sudden and quick in quarrel," and much more to 
 the same effect, we should perhaps have advised our 
 correspondent to procure the assassination of the 
 offender, or resort to some dreadful jdisplay of ven- 
 geance more condign and signal. Doubtless the puU- 
 ing-out of his nails with red hot pincers, would very 
 
214 Answers to Correspondents. 
 
 soon have occurred to us as extremely suitable — ^but 
 perhaps not, on the whole, so significant as searing his 
 eyeballs with a fiery instrument prepared for that 
 purpose. But we are naturally phlegmatic, and are 
 now very cool ; consequently we do not think a re- 
 sort to these extreme measures quite the thing, how- 
 ever just or beautiful in idea. We cling to our first 
 suggestion ; with a last reference to which, we take 
 our leave of the ladies — not forgetting our best bow 
 and simper. 
 
 FiTz James Fitz James. — I am an idler, for it is my disposi- 
 tion — my nature, to be lazy. My excuse is, I can afford to be 
 the drone I have described ; and, furthermore, I have an " aim in 
 life," notwithstanding. I am an observer of men (and women) 
 and manners. I am a philosopher ; I intend to be a novelist. I 
 have been engaged making a study of three frights, who live op- 
 posite, and have ogled me, by the half day, for many weeks. 
 They appear to be eaten up with pride and vanity, and are so 
 idle and worthless, not to say unornamental, they must certainly 
 be a burthen, as they are a disgrace, to their parents. It has 
 been their habit, till recently, to divide their attention between 
 me and the passers-by in the street. Every young man, of more 
 than passable appearance — especially if his apparent condition 
 betokens wealth, is subjected to the battery of their glances, and 
 sought to be enticed by their immodest charms. The young (?) 
 
Answers to Correspondents. 215 
 
 ladies seem at last to despair of any important impression on me, 
 and have come to affect a prudish indignation whenever they 
 catch my admiring gaze. As my studies in that quarter are 
 now complete, I turn them over to you, Mr. Editor, and antici- 
 pate at your hands such a management of their case as shall 
 happily result (to all appearance) in a salutary reform. 
 
 If Fitz James's description of tlie three (idle) graces 
 be correct, we do not accept his offer to "turn them 
 over " to ns. We should be in a sad case to know 
 what to do with such unproductive property. Our 
 plan is this : — Of course everybody, including every 
 idle young lady, reads the Prime Mover. Let the 
 three graces see Fitz James's letter. It will make them 
 very indignant — perhaps, for a while, furious ; but it 
 will do them^ood. They will then see themselves as 
 others see them: a most desirable realization. But 
 if F. J. F. J. has exaggerated his picture in any par- 
 ticular, we warn him of perilous consequences. "We 
 will not interpose to save him — ^he must miserably 
 perish. 
 
 SORROWS OF AN ORGAN-GRINDER. 
 Dear Mr. Prime Mover : — I am a poor Itahan. The Italians, 
 you are aware, are born in Italy : — Italy — my country 1 — 
 shall I never, &c. 
 
21 6 Answers to Correspondents. 
 
 Forgive my emotion: I was once, sir, a Duke. I owned 
 an island near Corsica, and was a man of considerable conse- 
 quence. One day my island — ^witli castle, horses, cattle, domes- 
 tics, fowls, wife, park, children, summer-house, servants — in fine, 
 everything I had in the world, sunk in the sea, [which is very 
 deep there ;] and when I came back at night in my boat, [I had 
 been gone since breakfast,] I missed my possessions very much. 
 I had a horse that I perfectly idohzed. 
 
 I became exceedingly mad. " I will have some of them," I 
 shouted, very loud ; and letting down a rope with a hook at the 
 end, I drew up, at the third haul, the very organ which I now 
 turn for you and my other friends. " It has been my plaything 
 in happier days ; now it shall be my support and solace," I again 
 spoke, [very loud,] to the surrounding sea. 
 
 I rowed to the main-land quite cheerfully, and commenced 
 my travels. I need not tell you I at last arrived at the Land of 
 the Free, &c., for happily my presence confirms my story, and 
 makes all further proof superfluous. 
 
 I find, much to my sorrow and grief, [also astonishment,] 
 that the organ is not reverenced in this land as it is in Italy. 
 
 Oh, Italy ! when shall I see thee ? &c. 
 
 I find, here, that to guide the delicate ventages of the 
 Organ's sweet-toned stops, is not a dignified and respectable 
 employment. Alas ! where is the taste of America ? in which 
 land I am hailed with indecent familiarity by even pohcemen — 
 whose savage tones, as they hoarsely shout ''move on ! " indicate 
 contempt, and awaken the Italian blood in my Ducal veins. Are 
 
Answers to Correspondents. 217 
 
 they respectful enough to a Duke, even granting that Duke is in 
 exile, and has lost his possessions? 
 
 My talented countrymen Bellini, Eossini, Verdi and Doni- 
 zetti^ [most melodious of them all ; you ought to hear me play 
 his Finale to Lucia /] are not understood in this country by the 
 mass of the people. When I interpret their divine melodies, 
 even my sweetest cadences, my most graceful turns, are aU 
 imheeded, unappreciated. A vulgar copper or two is all I get 
 for Rossini! a curse may folio vv Bellini! a contemptuous "get 
 out ! " is ahnost certain to' insult the name of Donizetti. Why 
 is this ? 
 
 Angelo Paesiello Gorgoni. 
 
 Sure enougli — why is it? Gokgoni has ground 
 out a pitiable case. "We are afraid the mischief lies 
 deep (probably in the pedal-base) among the organic 
 elements of society. Mankind have many wretched 
 quips and cranks to answer for, and among them are 
 prominent those which are turned at the expense of 
 the organ-grinder. 
 
 Some organs, we confess it, are intolerable; they 
 are out of tune, and out of place, always. Their tone 
 is squeaky, and their average harmony very inharmo- 
 nious. But (how providential !) there are degrees in 
 organic excellence, or perhaps we should say demerit ; 
 
 and there are some we tolerate — nay, admire. To 
 
 10 
 
21 8 Answers to Correspondents. 
 
 this latter class we gladly believe Gorgonrs organ 
 belongs. We think no one can reasonably include, 
 in one sweeping denunciation, the whole class of these 
 instruments, since Thalberg has seen fit to play on a 
 French musical contrivance that cannot compare, in 
 tone, with some street organs we have heard, and 
 thus dignified an occupation which before, as Angelo 
 Paesiello intimates, has not been in much repute among 
 us. There may be a " brighter day dawning " for our 
 Ducal correspondent and his fellows — for the common 
 run of whom we sincerely wish better organs, more 
 willing and liberal listeners, and the completest ex- 
 emption from the sneers, taunts, kicks and general 
 injurious and prejudicial treatment of the world. 
 Selah. 
 
Mr. PEPPER'S AMAZING ELEVENTH. 
 
 PEEHAPS it may be doubted by some over-saga- 
 cious critics, whether Mr. Pepper — K. N. Pep- 
 per, Esq. — is really the author of the subjoined great 
 work. I see no other way but 'to let these people go 
 on doubting. If the internal evidence of its authenti- 
 city is not strong enough to satisfy them, I firmly 
 believe that even a sight of the poet himself — swear- 
 ing by a large-sized terrapin — would fail to convince 
 them. 
 
 Perhaps, in fact^ there is no real foundation for this 
 fancy. I sincerely hope it is hut a fancy. 
 
 TIRKEL : A POME. 
 
 DEDEOAIT TO MR. HUESTON INTO 3 PARTS. 
 PART THE 1th. 
 
 DiBTiNGUiSHT Muse ! your humbel fren stil livs I 
 Throo 1 yeres streem he lies sadly Navvigaited 
 10 
 
220 Mr. Pepper's Amazing Eleventh. 
 
 & not ben swalerd by the bilos. Muse ! 
 He hes ben coald — his clothe ben also wet, 
 His helth verry poor. He hes hed inflooenzy 
 & Alas ! soar throat. Biles hes contin- 
 ued fur to maik pereodikel aperens, 
 & his hart hes ben wel ni broak compleetly. 
 Muse ! your humbel fren wil not complain : 
 The glory ov his acheevments pays liim wel 
 Fur evry thing inflicted onto him. 
 The imortel pome wich gest 1 yeer ago 
 You helpt him fur to rite, wil ever liv, 
 & magnify his naim like telescoaps 
 Wich maiks a grait Werld ov a litle star. 
 o Muse 1 no fire, no wotter, pain in bowls, 
 or even Hanah's Taither cant him stop ; 
 Fur Potry is the spirrits as preserves 
 His Soal frum a-spihn : talk Potry away, 
 & onfortinet Pepper must dri up & Yannish. 
 
 Ken you, o Muse, then hev the cruelty 
 to hang of like you did be4, & peraps 
 Not cum at al ? hkely you may thine, 
 Becos i dident di wen i sed i wood, 
 ime never a-goin to — wich is a mistaik. 
 i feel this time, o Muse, as ef i coodent 
 Deseev you ef i tride. besids, the goak 
 (Ef youm onfeHn enuf to cal it sech) 
 is raither stall j & wel you no i doant 
 
Mr. Pepper's Amazing Eleventh. 221 
 
 Doo nothin twicet alike : beleve me, Muse, 
 
 this time i di without reserv — to I's. 
 
 i hev prepaired a loc to send to Hanah, 
 
 tooc frum the moast conspicyous ov my hair — 
 
 Shoin how i doant cair now fur loocs, 
 
 & never did much — but now no moar — alas ! 
 
 o Muse — as wos so offish about the Weelharer — 
 Good Muse — without wich evry pote hes got 
 A bad coald & cant sing : i talk my oath 
 lie never cum to you fur help agin. 
 Wot doo you doo fur egsersize wen you 
 Aint a-puttin up ov potes fur to rite ? 
 it seems you otto be thankful fur a opper- 
 toonity fur to maik a yung man faimus. 
 Now cum & help me, Muse, doant be a afeerd — 
 Pepper mmt rite the pome — ^he feels his Our 
 Hes cum, & wood be glad ov your assistens : 
 o thine a minit ov the onborn Milions 
 Mi gentle Muse, as '11 be ableeged to you 1 
 
 At last youv roas abuv your pregudis — 
 i feel your fire a wormin up mi blud — 
 i kech your breth so sweet & bamy too : 
 Mi preshus Muse ! beleev me yourn til deth ! 
 
 " Ambishun ! powerful soars ov Goody Nill" 
 So sung the Copper pote with silver toung — 
 (onhappy she, with sech a misabel faither 1) 
 
222 Mr. Pepper's Amazing Eleventh. 
 
 How ken you be a-settin pepel up 
 
 to dooin things wich soon thay find thay cant 1 
 
 its perfeckly yousles to deni the charg — 
 
 & ime hapy to se you aint a-goin to. 
 
 Fur shaim ! you otto be in beter biznes. 
 
 You rooind Napolin — a cmart man, 
 
 Also Ceser, Elick sanders, Mr. Crummel, 
 
 & 100 uthers into the saim serkel — 
 
 Al hkly men til you saild in & spilet em. 
 
 it wos a onwarrantabel Libberty, &cus you fur it I 
 
 & wen you leev the Hewman Speshy a minit, 
 
 its oanly fur to insite a Resareckshun 
 
 into the peesful brest ov sum onfortinet AnimeL 
 
 i now alood to Tirkel : ded & gon — 
 
 Wich his story i shel now perseed fur to sing. 
 
 Fur away, bi shears ov the wild Oshun, 
 Sitooaited about 20 rods frum the wotter, 
 Lay a peesful pond — not larg, not deep, 
 But a fair sise fur a moderat Tirkel. 
 On it wos varis logs, good for to set on 
 Wen the sun shines, & dive of wen Man 
 Cums with stun or dubbel-barild shot gun. 
 Nise tender frogs wos plenty & not shi : 
 Evrything wos faverbel : & heer livd 
 Hapy & contentid fur meny yeers — a Tirkel. 
 He wos the kind cald Mud, becos he never 
 
Mr. Pepper's Amazing Eleventh. 223 
 
 Mindid the dirt, but tooc to it wen persood. 
 in cam Contentment he wood set fur days 
 onto a log, a-dreemin in the Son. 
 Ketch Mm a worryin ! wot shood he wory for ? 
 He hed al he cood ete & drinc & wair — 
 (Wich last sounds good, but doant signifi much ; 
 Like haf the comon potry — ^but to perseed :) 
 He wos satisfide he coodent doo no beter. 
 the. sentiment ov Wor he never felt, 
 Consekently wos mild & Lam-like : 
 Peraps his oanly folt al that time wos 
 His not hevin Energy enuf naterallyj 
 & afterwords his not noin wen he wos wel of. 
 the Berds, a-flyin over, wood say to thayrselves : 
 " Hapy, hapy Tirkel I Thayr he sets, esy, 
 With no cair onto his mind, no trubbel 
 Fur to Hv ; wilst we, poor fethered Songsters, 
 Must fli & look sharp wether we wonto or not." 
 
 His mind rund moastly onto a femail Tirkel 
 Wich hvd into a nuther pond like hisn 
 & hedent no cruel faither fur to order her : 
 Consekently thay wos together moast ov the time, 
 o, hapy wos these 2 inosent Animels ! 
 Like Bobby-lines as wissel al the day — 
 Sweet Tirkel-Flowers, a-bloin side by side ! 
 
224 Mr. Pepper's Amazing Eleventh. 
 
 PART THE 2th. 
 
 (Hark! doo i heer a roar? — ^i heer a roar.) 
 Go stand onto the shoar & vew grait Oshun ! 
 Se the ships, skooners, & morfodite Brigs 
 Wich carry such imens cuantitys ov every thing 
 in varis direckshuns oar his boosum ! 
 Se em leev the inteligent Shoars ov germeny 
 Also ov ireland, Liverpool, Frans, afriky, 
 A-caryin ov pepel, iern, wimmen, 
 Umbrels, & salers, with uther things too tegus 
 Fur to menshun : se clowds ov nite obscure sweet Moon, 
 (Wich i I's adrest a pome to — & sed everything :) 
 Behoald Darcnes kech evry 1 bi sirpris, 
 & Ship pichin verry much : waivs roalin bad : 
 in plais wair its 60 or 80 feet deep : 
 Alas I sum a-cryin : captin raither afeerd : 
 Waivs (as i sed be4) a-roalin awful ! 
 I^^Se-Tirkel is cam. " he wocks the botom 
 Like a thing ov Ufe." (frum byro^i.) wot cairs 
 this awful Savig ov the briny Sees 
 Fur eny sech smal maters ? cuite nothin ! 
 Alus cam, he sleeps — dreems — etes minnys — 
 Roams in feroshus mewsings throo the wotters. 
 Wen he gits disgustid with 1 kind ov food, 
 (Wich Se-Tirkels air raither apt fur to doo,) 
 He goas & dyits onto sumthin els 
 
Mr. Pepper's Amazing Eleventh. 225 
 
 Cuickly — becos Helth speeks & ses : " Tirkel ! 
 Talk mi advis — he cairful, or youm gonf^ 
 Wich consekently results into Eels & sech. 
 
 Wen his feerful i gits set onto a Clamb, 
 His inerds is Kegoised with it to I's ; 
 Oister hkewais. nothin escaips his vizzhun : 
 Wich pirsipitaits thq berth ov the yung Wail, 
 the muther bein so confuged bi its glans — 
 & maiks the faither trembil & bring tribyout ov ile. 
 Wots mity Swoard-fish into his hans — wots Se-snaik, 
 Conkerer ov Alegaiter ? Wacks ! 
 
 Wot ef this mity objeck ses : " ile go ashoar ! " 
 He dus so direckly, a-dispisin ov paspoarts. 
 Wen he apeers abuv the Aquis Elemen, 
 Wot dus he say ? Thees werds with Dignity : 
 " Fairwel, oshun ! fur a few minits, Adoo ! 
 ef i choos fur to talk fresh air, Hoos biznes is it ? 
 Let eny ov these cussid land Animels 
 Sho thayr fais : How i pitty em ef thay doo ! 
 ile sho em how the magisty ov Se-Tirkels 
 Hes got to be observed onto al ocazisns ! 
 i woodent yous no pirsonel egzershuns : o no I 
 ide depend onto mi i entirely ; — ^ide Wither em 1 
 
 i wish fur to hev these Egs preservd. thay shel be I 
 
 & be the Mejum fur fewter Tirkels!" 
 
 So sayin (& wot cood he ad to sech remarcs ?) 
 He graisfly retirs like the meek-ide fon (frum moor). 
 
 10-^ 
 
226 Mr. Pepper's Amazing Eleventh. 
 
 & leevs 2 or 3 mild ov the onhapy shoar 
 A-moarnin fur his los. His Magestic tail 
 Waivs a EKgant fairwel to everything, 
 & he is seen a-goin doun like the settin Son, 
 With splender & enthugyastic Aplos. 
 
 PART THE 3. 
 
 Ambishun ! remembring wot i sed to you 
 into the 1st part, it wont be nessary to 
 Ashoor you ov mi contemp ; but peraps 
 Youm 2 bizzy a-rooinin ov pepel to go bac — 
 in wich cais cus you, with immens disrespec. 
 Cum forids & looc at sum ov your were I 
 Stand & observ that silen pond thair — 
 Dride up with Sorow almoast into nothin I 
 Sise cum up frekently frum the cuiet mud: 
 A vois moarns & ses, " Alas ! poor Tirkell 
 taik fur away his meloncoly shel — 
 Gether up the trankil inosent clos — 
 & berry em in silens, cuietly. 
 o, he wos al mi fansy panitid him : (frum moor) 
 & he is gon — sweet, luvly Tirkel ! " 
 
 ^that vois hes stopt — hes dride up like the pond- 
 
 or wot is left ov boath is verry smal sise. 
 
 the wind wos a-blowin worm frum the South-est, 
 (it wos the time ov the Yelow feiver), 
 
Mr. Pepper's Amazing Eleventh. 227 
 
 & brot the smel ov orangis & afrikens 
 
 Frum the troppicks cuite fresh & saloobris. 
 
 the pond ov the Mud-Tirkel wos cam — also 
 
 His mind, maid trankil bi a good nites rest. 
 
 Hevin servayd his fechers into the wotter, 
 
 He adrest ov hisself into these few vsrerds : 
 
 " TiRKEL 1 wil you taik a wock this fine mornin ? " 
 
 To wich he repHde with plesyom* : " Sertinly, 
 
 & much ableeged to you : " wich setteld ov the pint. 
 
 o, se that graisful Animel a-wockin ! 
 Wot dus he dreem ov ? Hapines, ov coars : 
 A-winkin to the tre-toads as he goas — 
 Wich resolvs fur to serenaid him bi nite, 
 Pirformans to comens a 8 o'clock persisely. 
 Alas ! — ^but Muse keep cuiet fur a few minits. 
 Fait toald him fur to taik the bangs ov Oshun, 
 (Wich he hed been thair, so thougt nothin straing — 
 Bein a admirer ov grait boddys ov wotter :) 
 So he went, wel pleesd with hisself & everything, 
 A-hummin, also a-tryin fur to wissel. 
 then he wocked fur a wile, a-lookin down, 
 Wile WO set a-straddel ov his shel, 
 A-lookin verry Meloncoly, & a-sheddin ov teers. 
 o, ef sum 1 cood hev turnd him around 
 imejitly, wot diferens it wood hev maid ! 
 But noboddy dident — hens the Catastrofy. 
 
 Sudently Mud-Tirkel cum fur to looc up : 
 
228 Mr. Pepper's Amazing Eleventh. 
 
 Wot wos a-hed ? nothin ony a Se-Tirkel : 
 
 As ef that wosent enuf — wich i raither thine 
 
 it wos. he stood with Magisty — a-wunderin 
 
 Wot that Httel cus wos thair, a-cumin. 
 
 His douts wos soon dispeld bi actool facs. 
 
 " Wen wos you horn f " sed he, wen " Mud " cum up : 
 
 "J.-4 you wos ! " sed Mud-Tirkel, with Dignity — 
 
 Not imejitly pirsevin ov his sise ; 
 
 " Say that agin 1 " sed he. Mud-Tirkel sed it : 
 
 & then thay roas & stood onto thayr hind legs. 
 
 " Arize ! my son — strech evry nerv 1 " (frum wots) 
 
 then sed Se-Tirkel, a-lookin doun 
 
 & a-holerin so the uther 1 cood heer ; 
 
 " o, i ken heer you, verry plain !" sed Mud: 
 & imejitly discuverd he wos smal. 
 With al his egzershuns, wich wos verry grait, 
 He felt he wos a inferor kind ov Tirkel ; 
 so, a-lettin ov hisself doun as esy as he cood, 
 He cast his long & lingerin tail behind (frum gray,) 
 & a-syin deeply, startid fur the pond. 
 
 in goin bac he stopt fur 1 moar efert, 
 Bein afeerd he hedent dun his best : 
 He sweld so hard his shel begijnd fur to crac — 
 & yet remaind a verry smal Tirkel. 
 
 " How hard it is fur to swel much wen youv got 
 A shell" he sed, in Considerbel ageny, 
 A-givin away to the preshoor ov his feUngs. 
 
Mr. Pepper's Amazing Eleventh. 229 
 
 He felt bad. lie wos sory he tooc the wock : 
 " Cus him," sed he, " fur a imens Humbug !" 
 
 (Aloodin to the uther Tirkel). after wich 
 
 His spirrits forsooc him, & he wos tooc sic. 
 His femail fren did evrything she cood : 
 " Cheer up 1" sed she, 1000 times per day : 
 
 But no youst — he dident taik no interest. 
 
 she begund fur to git scairt — & wel she mite — 
 
 to se him a-sinkin in spirrits & in mind. 
 
 At last he refewsd fur to hoald no moar 
 
 Conversashun, & orderd her of ov the premisis. 
 
 Wich persedings tooc her with serpris : 
 " Mi sweet Tirk-y is a-gittin huffy, aint he ?" 
 
 sed she, in a afectin vois, cuite sorowful — 
 
 Wich maid worm wotter ov his isy hart, 
 
 & cuverd ov his shel with perspirashun : 
 ^^ Fargiv me, luv, & stay — He go miselff 
 
 sed he : & then onfortinetly went. 
 
 the settin sun went doun as he went up. 
 He hed prepaird a few remarcs fur hir, 
 
 Aloodin in onplesant terms to Ambishun — 
 
 Wich Deth cut short in a onfeUn maner. 
 
 the tre-toads sung — :but cuite a diferent song : 
 
 (it wos a Disapointment to em al, 
 
 Fur thay wosent verry fond ov miner mewsic :) 
 
 it break the femail Tirkel's hart to heer it : 
 
 Her Spirrit now hangs round the silen pond 
 
230 Mr. Pepper's Amazing Eleventh. 
 
 & speeks the werds aloodid to abuv. 
 se Tirkel's egs wos al wosht away 
 in a awful storm as hapend that saim nite ; 
 & he wos finisht bewtfuly hisself, 
 Bi a larg & splendid stroak ov Htenin 
 Wich overtooc him wilst a-huntin fur em. 
 
 Mi preshus Muse I your Pepper taiks his leef. 
 He wont hev no moar ocaishun fur your servis. 
 His WERO is finisht — ^also his poor Life, 
 Neerly. he thanes you verry much fur al 
 Your kindnes, wich hes bein the maikin ov him. 
 He jaoaps the Warnin wich we se abuv 
 Wont be cuite lost onto the Hewman Speshy — 
 To wich, also to you & mi deer Hanah, 
 i leev mi faim, & say at last : Fairwel I 
 
TO THE WORLD. 
 
 AN ESSAYS- 
 FOUNDED ON SENSE AND DR. CYRUS THOMSON. 
 BY P. PEPPER PODD. 
 
 THE "World is sometimes called tlie Earth. Some- 
 times we ] ead of the Corners of the Earth : the 
 earth being round has no Corners. The earth is 
 
 * As it would be a pity, should any part of this valuable 
 paper fail of its due effect, I will do what I can to elucidate it 
 by annexing such portions of the note by which it was origi- 
 nally introduced to the pubhc, as have a particular bearing on 
 the subject. 
 
 Mr. Podd " was recently much struck with a brief Uterary 
 work entitled 'A irhort Treatise on the County of Onondaga/ 
 and written exclusively by Dr. Thomson, of that county, 
 botanic physician, probably with his left hand tied behind. Mr. 
 
232 To the World. 
 
 round, as we see : eclipses showing it, through 
 smoked glass, at the proper seasons. The seasons 
 are four, viz. : Spring, Summer, Autumn, Winter, — 
 the last being the coldest. People have been frozen 
 to death in this season. Seasoning is used in Victuals. 
 Victuals cannot be eat on a full Stomach. [What 
 say the Gleologists : Bed Sandstone is the oldest Rock in 
 
 P. reveres the world's Benefactor and Friend, now that he has 
 perused the pamphlet I have mentioned, and in the effusion I 
 annex has, in his humble way (as he modestly says), emulated 
 the classic model afforded in the Doctor's style. Mr. Podd 
 desires me, however, to disclaim for him any hopes of having 
 attained to real excellence, in this composition ; and to say that 
 all he really expects is some slight credit for having called the 
 attention of men to one greater than he, and whom, he thinks, 
 the world should not willingly let die — if herbs and praise can 
 save him. 
 
 " The Doctor's powerful essay is addressed to a reasonably 
 large and somewhat comprehensive circle of acquaintance; 
 thus : — 
 
 '' 1st, To the Ladies. 
 
 " 2d, Mechanics, Farmers, Lakes, Rivers, Mills, Soil, Roots 
 Herbs, Crops, Rocks, G-ravel, Land, Clay, Brick [being a 
 thoroughly-baked one himself], Lime, Plaster, and Salt.' 
 
 *' Mr. Podd's is addressed simply * To the World.' " 
 
\ ■ 
 
 \ . . . 
 
 To the World. 233 
 
 the world. It is called Eed Sandstone because it is 
 Eed and Sandy. Here we see its advantage over 
 Hair. Hair never being Bed and Sandy at the snme 
 time.] To return to the Stomach : This we could not 
 do if the Stomach was full. 
 
 FIRST FOR THE STOMACHS. 
 
 Suppose a Man : This we have a Eight to do. 
 Agree that he has a Stomach : Man being a Digestive 
 Animal. Eeflect that this Stomach may be abused : 
 Not by low Language, but by high Diet. Poor 
 Stummy [which playful Term means Stomach], he 
 gits Sick. Is not here a call for the healer ? No more 
 (at present) for the Stomachs. 
 
 AGAIN FOR HERBS. 
 The World has places where vegetable Substances 
 grows : These are Plants. Plants : Herbs. The 
 transition is effected in a Minute, because there is no 
 transition to make. Now, suppose an Herb. Agree 
 that it has got into it a Juice : Which stands to Eea- 
 son. Allow a Medicine in the Juice that hits Sto- 
 machs. Grant there is one [or more] Physician with 
 a name that he conceals : This Doctor not only being 
 
234 To the World. 
 
 " Death on Fits," — to use a playful expression — ^but 
 Attentive to Stomachs. — Marh the effect I He sees the 
 Eelation [a Blood Eelation]. He takes and gits the 
 Medicine out of the Juice. In a commanding method, 
 he says to the Stomach : Git Well I The tone of his 
 Yoice gives tone to the Stomach, and he proposes to 
 Heal all Diseases, at a very low Charge : Considering 
 first the number of Stomachs. Next the World 
 growing such immense quantities of Herbs: Which 
 are for the Healing of the Nations. No more for the 
 Herbs and Stomachs. 
 
 ODE TO DISEASE. 
 
 It is important that you should be cured. 
 First, because you can't be endured. 
 Again, people have been known to die : 
 Therefore fly! fly! fly! fly! fly! fly! 
 Disease leave ! 
 No more deceive ! 
 Disease I ring your Nell ! 
 Sick people git well ! git well I 
 Git well ! git well ! git well ! 
 
 No more for Disease. 
 
To the World. 235 
 
 A TOAST TO THE LADIES. 
 
 You are tlie Motherwort, Man Koot, Ladies' Shp- 
 per, Angehca, Archangel, Fern, Queen of the Mea- 
 dow, Ladies' Sorrel, Nanny Bush, Eose Willow, 
 Squaw Weed, Lovage, and Sweet Flag of the World. 
 
 Ko more for the Ladies. No more for the World. 
 
 FINIS. 
 
PEPPER REDIVIVUS. 
 
 IHAYE been told that, soon after tlie completion 
 of tlie " Tirkel," a very happy accident prevented 
 the sudden extinction of the fire in Mr. Pepper's 
 breast, and consequent vainless sighing of the world 
 for a few more poems " of the same sort." Having 
 actually resolved on self-destruction, as intimated in 
 his last work, he stood, tall in his desperation and 
 stockings, on the brink of a fearful precipice — a terri- 
 ble illustration of the lengths to which poor human 
 nature may be driven. Swinging his arms with 
 mournful energy, he began, with awful meaning, the 
 well-known couplet : — 
 
 " One, to begin ; two, to show ; 
 Three, to make ready ; and " 
 
Pepper Redivivus. 237 
 
 " Four, not to go I" shouted Mr. Podd, wlio that in- 
 stant arrived, in time to complete the thrilling extract 
 and perform (himself being the only instrument) a 
 thrilling extraction : viz., his fiiend from the jaws of 
 Death ! (The best professional dentist in the world 
 would have called for his forceps.) Seizing the des- 
 perate Pepper, he made the glad announcement that 
 old Walters was dead, and Hannah Jane free ! That 
 the terrible revulsion of feeling produced in the poet's 
 breast by this overwhelming news, should have 
 caused him to swoon with joy — who can wonder? 
 He did swoon. About the next thing he did, when 
 he had revived, I should judge to have been some- 
 thing that made the following note and poem possible, 
 even in the natural cause of events : — * 
 
 North-Demosthenes, Sept. 15, 1857. 
 
 " Mr. diiARK : i supoas you doant need to be informd that ' i 
 stil liv,' & am part ov the firm ov Pepper & Walters, delers in 
 Domestic Hapines, & sech: ef you doo, heerbi taik notis to that 
 efec : ime a ni naber ov fren Podds, wich livs at the 4 corners. 
 
 " i raither giv out, in my last pome, that mi Muse hed ben set 
 
 * Clark says. Pepper's long silence wos a consequence of his 
 " disgust at the temerity of his puny tribe of imitators." I think 
 it belonged to love and happiness. 
 
238 Pepper Redivivus. 
 
 fre, & coodent be cald on at site fur no moar inspiraslaun : wot 
 may astonish you, i hev roat a littel pome without consultion 
 ov her ; bein a adres to my infant Son, now severil munths & a 
 number ov days oald, & constantly gitin oalder. ef you thine it 
 wil doo to print fur mi frens, & isent entirely behind mi oald 
 stile, plees insert & ablige yours, 
 
 K. N. Pepper. 
 N. B. : i coodent git it al into 14 hnes (wich maiks a sunnit), 
 so ive roat the rest into proas. 
 
 SUNNIT TO MI LITTEL SON PETER. 
 * Welcum, sweet cus, to your faither's family-serkel I 
 sech Httel Red republikens as you 
 Wercs revolooshuns every wers, 't is troo. 
 talk your oan faither, now, wich rote the " TirJcel" 
 " Weelbarer,^^ & a few moar sech pomes : 
 youv maid him hapy ; but youv sp'ilt his genus. 
 No moar imortel Wercs 1 but pete, between us, 
 i shel git up a practikel were, on Hoams, 
 With cullerd cuts (youm 1) on evry sheet, 
 
 ile cal it Pepper's last & graitest Aim, 
 (1 wich i raither thine is hard to beet.) 
 Domestic Hapines shel be the naim : 
 inspird bi Hanah gane, your nateral muther, 
 & roat bi your faither, onles youv got sum uther 
 parrent, wich aint hkely. Peter ! gro up & maik a distinguisht 
 man — ^is the prair ov your 
 
 luving faither, K. N. Pepper. 
 
A WARNING: 
 
 OE, THE EFFECT OF THE ABOLITION OF CAPITAL PUN-ISHMBNT. 
 
 *' Here are a few of the unpleasant'st words 
 
 That ever blotted paper." — Merchant of Venice. 
 " Punster : A quibbler, a low wit." — Walker. 
 
 I AM melancholy when I think how often time and 
 ingenuitj are wasted, in efforts to distort words 
 from their legitimate meanings and achieve a question- 
 able popularity by the paltry trick of childish plays 
 upon words. All such wretched stuff is foreign 
 to the dignity of established writers. Entertaining 
 these views, how was I pained and grieved, the other 
 day, to receive a note which convinced me there ex- 
 ists a person who finds his happiness in the very pur- 
 suit my taste has condemned! How I pity that 
 
240 A Warning. 
 
 young man I How glad I am to know (as I liave 
 lately learned) the vice is not so rooted in Ms nature, 
 by the practice of a long life, that it may not in time 
 be extirpated ! In that benevolent hope, I indulge 
 the youth (for he is no more), and consent to the in- 
 evitable disfigurement of this volume, both to please 
 him, and afford the world the startling evidence of 
 his present dreadful condition. It will be seen, that 
 he rarely or never arrives at a good pun (if such an 
 adjective may be coupled with so very common a 
 noun), nor indeed does he seem to aim that way ; but 
 contents himself with wretchedly lack-lustre quibbles 
 and forced conjunctions of similar sounds. 
 
 Below is his wretched effusion ; but I am not in 
 haste to reach it. — I think he should never die : at 
 least his shade (when he does) should "keep shady" 
 when Dr. Johnson's approaches. (How true it is, that 
 " evil ' communications' corrupt good manners" — and 
 habits ! I have caught myself at last indulging in 
 the pitiful luxury of a pun ! I am consoled by the 
 reflection that it is a very good one, when compared 
 with his, and by the resolution I herewith firmly 
 make, never to attempt another). Indeed, from a 
 horrible discovery I have this day made, I think he 
 
A Warning. 241 
 
 will never die. He called upon me, and in the course 
 of our brief conversation confessed lie was once guiltv 
 of an act still more criminal than the composing that 
 piece. Then I said, commiserating the poor wretch, 
 " Sir, if you are the Wandering Jew, heaven help 
 you." His brief and melancholy reply was : " I am !" 
 — and sighing deeply, he vanished with a sad grace. 
 
 "TO TWO TOADS. 
 
 " PKO-LOG. 
 
 " Great, full, grateful sound : a nightly payment — though 
 there is no pay meant — ^by my little customers, those cuss'd hum- 
 mers of the pond. I owe them, now ; and soon my Muse shall 
 '0' them. No strange topic to pick up, while those pond,erous 
 tones, seemingly by tons, come forth, and forthwith shake all the 
 air with their ' air' — which has no ' variation,' nor ' shadow of 
 * turn'-ing,' nor shakes,' nor 't(h)riiring harmony. Come here, 
 and hear ! That awful strain is an awful strain on my tympa- 
 num. I should be pleased at the prospect- of being eased : 
 seized by death : deceased — ^without being diseased. Open, 
 pen ! in puny pun-y style, a stylish poem that I owe 'em ; 
 ■which, in its witchery of numbers, may make numbers of 
 others, m-others, br-others, and aU t'others) cut short, by a 
 short cut, these 'winding bouts' in which they are winding 
 about; and as these two 'come to,' let others come too, and 
 
 11 
 
242 A Warning. 
 
 all come to a stand — taking a standee, where they can ' stand 
 easy' (say form into position), safe from interposition. 
 
 "The Vir* says : 
 " Songsters ! your song stirs my bosom. 
 (Such a stir has your singing effected !) 
 I'm affected — I soon shall ' boo-hoo' some, 
 Not checked by your singing ' affected.' 
 Your ' key' you keep pitched, when you pitch on it ; 
 
 The reason was ever a mystery : 
 To hold it so, do you keep pitch on it ? — 
 A key were never amiss, tarry. 
 ****** 
 " But, Toads ! — to des-cribe this scribe's raptures, 
 Must take (you must ' take !') two long chapters. 
 Some salve ? — (Oh, that salvo !) — I've wrapped yours 
 
 About a girl's hand (too long chapped, hers) ; 
 "With the small box I plastered — then pitied her, 
 As the small-pox soon mastered, then pitted her : 
 Thus kin being wholly unfitting her — 
 The skin being hole-y, and fitting her.' 
 
 " Sweetness could no further go," the author adds, 
 in a quotation. There is no need of it. " Sweetness" 
 has gone quite far enough. Poor Jew I 
 
 * The Hebrew knows Latin, 
 
Mr. PEPPER RE-" PETE" S HIMSELF. 
 
 NO one can reasonably expect a happy man to be 
 very sentimental. The poet is happy : hence 
 the subjoined great Poem is cheerful in its general 
 tone, and (like the denouement of a novel) very ap- 
 propriately terminates the list of his remarkable 
 achievements. Whether he will ever again court his 
 Muse, is a question which time alone can determine : — 
 
 PETE: 
 
 AN AVERIG POME (fUR LENGTH :) DEDECAIT TO L. GALERD CLARK. 
 BY MR. K. N. PEPPER, ESQ. 
 
 Sing Pete, o Muse ! — ^he bein mi littel Boy — 
 Mi oanly son — with short & strait wite hair, 
 & (at present) the Mezels. wot he wil 
 go into next, peraps you no, but i doant. 
 His culler isent good, & the saim remaro 
 
244 Mr- Pepper Re-" Pete" s Himself. 
 
 Wil apli to his apetite. The Doctor ses 
 Pete hes got the moast Mezels he ever see 
 onto a boy. he hkewais ses, gudgin bi the stoc, 
 He'll wip em, & giv em haf to start with. 
 (Wairin i agre with doc, & go him sum better.) 
 Now go it Muse — give us a good 1 on Pete. 
 
 Paws, strainger, & talk a looc at a Cradel 
 
 about li yeer ago. wot doo you se into it ? 
 
 (as the man sed wen he saw the feller a-lookinintoPutoo- 
 
 rity.) 
 1st observ that luvly Form, a-rockin ov it. 
 thats Hanah gane, a mild wooman, week as a fool, 
 & thinkin ov Baby, ile bet 50 sents. 
 thairs a wooman, now, a man ken be proud ov. 
 But talk a nuther looc into the littel Cradel I 
 se suthin Red ? thats the present Pete — 
 say 1 day oald ! hees a-yellin. taint much 
 Fur a yel, but as good as moast yung yels. 
 a-smihn kind ov plesent, Hanah settels him, 
 & presently gits him so he doant even grunt. 
 
 Wot a uncomon luvly thing is a yoothful infant! 
 DrooHn doant spile it, for its pa & ma I 
 its a kind ov Bud — a ignorant Bud — 
 a no-nothin Flour, wich aint no Flour — 
 a inosent Aingel, a-chaingin into a Man 
 & a-gittin cuite smal wilst a-goin throo ! 
 
Mr. Pepper Re-" Pete" s Himself. 245 
 
 its littel hed is al smooth ; it haint no teth ; 
 its fechers aint worth menshunin, thaym so 
 teanty. different frum dog, it ken se 
 to I's. (Cat doant se wel, long at 1st.) 
 Wot is rich, youm releevd, the very 1st thing, 
 about thayr bein born Dum, &c4th. 
 How the littel cusses wil yel, sumtimes I 
 Petes a good exampel ov the yellin kind. 
 But thats pain in Bowls — Grenuses complaint : 
 i hed it, this mornin, so i thougt ide dL 
 thats wi ime a-ritin this minit. But 
 to return, as the Comeck sed. 
 
 Taik a nuther vew. | dozen at saim pris 
 (as the man sed wen he giv his boy a Hckin.) 
 
 Wot do you cal that, a-wiggUn onto the floar ? 
 thairs the Potry ov Moshun, dun up smal. 
 thats Pete, at 6 munths. How he creeps, tho I 
 Few Babys are cmart at 6 munths. 
 its nothin but yel, yel, yel, with moast on em. 
 How different Pete ! Pete incuires. Pete lerns. 
 Wots he a-lookin at now ? a hoal into the carpit 
 He noas it otto be fixt. He almoast ses so. 
 fix it Pete, wile your hand is in. (He 
 Dus it throo Hanah ; heer she cums, with a nedel.) 
 industry & Pete I — wot a site for a faither I 
 
 the contemplaishun ov Babys at 6 munths is fine* 
 
246 Mr. Pepper Re-" Pete" s Himself. 
 
 How interestin, to se a littel rip gro ! 
 How Astonishin that Milk is al he wonts ! 
 
 Wots ham & egs, or sider, or a pipe, to him ? 
 He thincs ov nothin but a-groin. wot a pity 
 Hees got to go throo so much, incloodin Sicnes ! 
 so much a-goin throo him at the saim time. 
 Hanah gane sties to it Pete sed pa 
 as plain as eny body, at 6 munths. His 
 i's wos a kind ov blooish wite at that perid. 
 not a hair onto his hed eny wers. 
 Hanah sed his noas wos exacly like mine, 
 or wil be wen he gits a noas, i replide — 
 At wich Hanah laft moast mewsikel. But 
 to cum agin, as the Collery sed. 
 
 Looc I's moar, pervidin time aint presin. 
 Wot doo you se now ? as the mise sed to the OwL 
 in a corner ov the G-ardin (the north corner) 
 a angelic Form, under a plum tre, a-hoaldin a 
 Baby. (Pete at 12 munths.) looc twist; 
 2nd time a good wile, with both i's. 
 aint the Bud a cumin on Grand ? 
 Hanah too is uncommon wel, you se. 
 everything is a-smilin, incloodin the cmal dog. 
 Sorry to trubbel you, but looc gest over-hed. 
 Without a-strainin ov your i'S mucli, youl probbly se 
 
Mr. Pepper Re-" Pete" s Himself. 247 
 
 A clowd blacker than wot scairt Abner, wen he cut. 
 
 thats cuttin teth & canker Eash, boath raither haisty. 
 
 the clowd cums down : you se nothin : but 
 
 Mity ! how you ken Jieer, tho ! 
 
 A rip with good lungs stans a good chans. 
 
 Petes chans is uncomon good. 1st clas. 
 
 Babys at 12 munths air plesent fur to looc at. 
 thair is sumthin fine in a yeer oald Boy. 
 Hair cums on good ; likewais teth & noas. 
 thay begin for to swel ! sumtims wock 1 
 thay say ma & pa cuite distinct I thay 
 Doant drool much ; thay ete masht tater : 
 & engoy life pooty cumferbel, considerin. 
 Wot a gurl dus at 1 yeer i doant reely no. 
 ef Pete, now, wos a gurl, i supoas i shood. 
 i doant taik no interist into gurls. But 
 to leev that pint, as the man sed to the Bagnit. 
 
 TAIK 1 moar looc, as the drowin man sed 
 Wen he cum up fur the 3rd time, 
 thairs a Vew ! (Pete at 18 munths.) 
 Air you struc much ? as the litenin sed to the man. 
 Wot a cus, at a yeer & i, aint he ? 
 oanly 18 munths ! wot a chaing, in 6 ! 
 taik away the Mezels, & wair is his ekal ! 
 How the Mezels spots a boy tho ! How Hanah 
 laft, wen i askt ef Godfrys Corjal wos good 
 
248 Mr. Pepper Re-'' Pete" s Himself. 
 
 fur the Mezels ! opodildoc maid her agin. 
 i thine 1 tooc sulfer & mola§is, but aint shoor. 
 Pete is pashenitly fond ov Caster ile I 
 Becos i supoas it is sech an egspensive drinc. 
 He raither prefers coald Prest ile. 
 (Worm, with milk : i talk it coald without.) 
 
 At 18 munths, Baby's air a rich site. 
 With sum atenshun to noas, &c4th, 
 (not moarn a minit in a day, at that,) 
 You ken maik em shine ! thayr conversashun 
 isent wot you may cal instructiv ; but 
 it kind ov melts into a parrens felings, 
 & pleses al but uther parrens, with yung I's — 
 Wich thincs thay aint no grait shaiks after al, 
 Compaird with sum thay v seen. (Hanah 
 herd Missis Jefers say them verry werds 
 to her husban, wen thayd ben a coUin hear, 
 Be4 thayd fairly got to the gait ; thay 
 Hevin 2 or 3 squockers ov thayr oan, i beleev. 
 Youd thine twos i dozen, bi the nois.) 
 Wen thay git a httel oalder thayr kind ov handy 
 about a Hous ; fedin pigs &c4th, fechin wotter, 
 Sphttin kindhn wood, & a duzen uther choars. 
 i shel feel bad the 1st time i wail Pete. 
 1 reely doant no as i ever ken, hese so pooty. 
 i ges ile let Hanah doo it wen nessary, 
 & tri & keep onto the rite side. But 
 
Mr. Pepper Re-" Pete" s Himself. 249 
 
 enuf onto that hed, as the man sed wen hede 
 kild his wife. Muse much ableeged. Fairwel. 
 
 Wot doo you thine ov Pete ? 
 
 I now dismiss the gifted Pepper : muttering, with 
 an air of mingled confidence and timidity, this vener- 
 able and deprecatory apothegm : — 
 
 " MALA GRAMMATICA NON VITIAT CHARTAM." 
 
 11* 
 
 
A DELIBATION ON STYLE. 
 
 Emanating from my Antre. 
 
 AS I grow older — I am so old, now^ I am almost a 
 fool, — my taste for really fine writing grows 
 stronger and stronger. An elegant piece of composi- 
 tion affects me mucli as a fine painting does. I pre- 
 sume, reader, you are impatient to know my ideal 
 of fine writing. I am not only impatient but anxious 
 to lay tliat ideal before you. 
 
 If you bave tbougbt but little on this subject, you 
 will be amazed at the simplicity of my method of 
 arriving at excellence, and charmed with the ease of 
 attaining to heights quite inaccessible before. To 
 show the wonderful grasp of my own unaided mind, 
 I will now condense, into one sentence, everything in 
 my system that is at all essential. The prime and 
 
A Delibation on Style. 251 
 
 ultimate desideratum, of him wiio aims at nothing 
 below the mountain-peaks of excellence in style 
 should be the shunning all common features. Thus, 
 he should employ only unhacknied terms ; avoid all 
 idioms ; and preserve, under every phase of subject- 
 matter, a certain dignity, a quiet loftiness of tone, 
 beyond the reach, or indeed comprehension, of medi- 
 ocrity. Let the composition in hand be high-sound- 
 ing in terms, and majestic in its general flow, — and 
 whether you are likely to be understood or not, you 
 may safely count on the admiration and respect of all 
 your readers. 
 
 Let me elucidate my system. I will suppose the 
 case of an audience assembled to witness some per- 
 formance at the Academy of Music — a delay — and an 
 unexpected speech by a stranger. At the risk of 
 offending you by associating, with excellence, a very 
 uncomplimentary shadow, I will indulge myself in 
 two reports of the affair ; the first, a humble approach 
 to the style I worship, and the other, a re-cast of the 
 subject, in a commoner mould. Among other and 
 more important advantages of my system, you will 
 perceive that, by it, length may be secured — which 
 writers will allow is no slight advantage. 
 
252 
 
 A Delibation on Style. 
 
 FIRST REPORT, 
 
 " An immense, luctating 
 throng was collocated. All 
 ages and conditions were there 
 commingled; senile sires, and 
 grandames long in drear senes- 
 cence, alternated with unablac- 
 tated infants and the interve- 
 nient growths of humanity. 
 Por a period there was some- 
 thing quite lethargic in the 
 quiet; but ere long the deferring 
 began to commove the people, 
 and ominated a general con- 
 citation — the prognostic and 
 final diagnostic of which was 
 the now frequent allision of 
 hands, opertaneous curses, and 
 streporous, vague shouts with 
 no apparent purpose. The 
 catacoustic results of this re- 
 sounding prolusion were as- 
 tounding ; the reboation by the 
 walls commingling and unsig- 
 nificising the sounds, and dis- 
 tracting as well as deafening 
 the unfortunate being necessi- 
 tated to be a listener. But at 
 last the effect of this popular 
 commotion was manifest. An 
 orgillous, ponderous, englutted, 
 oleaginous, atrabilarous indivi- 
 dual with a cane, took his ope- 
 rose way to the centre of the 
 space before the curtain ; upon 
 which, a seeming prolocutor 
 among the people ejaculated 
 ' Order !' and caused the tumult 
 to subside. The obese stranger 
 possessed rather a plebeian than 
 aristocratic look ; and hie ver- 
 
 SECOND REPORT. 
 
 " A regular crowd was jam- 
 med into the Academy. Old 
 foozles, of both sexes, were 
 there — so were squalling brats. 
 In ten minutes from the time 
 the affair was advertised to 
 come oflf, the joHiest row could 
 be confidently looked for. 
 Yellg, hoots, claps, stamps, 
 and groans shook the walls, 
 and stunned everybody. Just 
 in time to save a regular cav- 
 ing-in of the building, a fat, 
 pompous-looking old chap, 
 with a solemn air, a cane, and 
 a dull red face, appeared before 
 the curtain, and waddled to the 
 centre of the stage, — where he 
 stood awhile, puffing and 
 sweating : (like a bud) not yet 
 ready to 'blow.' For a mo- 
 ment his chances of being heard 
 seemed rather slim; but all 
 doubts were soon removed by 
 
A Delibation on Style. 
 
 253 
 
 meil countenance was bathed 
 in that aqueous effusion which 
 usually results from heat and 
 excitement. He at once began 
 indesinently to pour out a 
 cataclysm of incoherent elo- 
 quence, abounding in exple- 
 tives and periphrasis, and ex- 
 hibiting, throughout, a perplex- 
 ing semidiaphaneity of mean- 
 ing. His utterance soon be- 
 came inspissate ; and his wan- 
 derings, in body and mind, be- 
 trayed his familiarity with 
 loxodromics. He seemed en- 
 gaged in a luctation with his 
 emotions. Repeated indiscreet 
 humectations of his whistle 
 had evidently overpowered 
 him. He had begun to hesitate 
 for words, an ill-directed pty- 
 aUsm was suffusing his hirsute 
 appendage, and he was aiding 
 his meaning with frequent 
 grimaces and oeiliads (being 
 threatened with complete ob- 
 mutescence) — when his per- 
 formances became unbearable 
 to the people, who now indulg- 
 ed in the frequent ejaculation, 
 -'Exsiccate !-Exsiccate!' Hiss- 
 es aided the dehortation. A 
 humorous person in the throng 
 denominated him ' that rare 
 plant, the Anemone,' other- 
 wise, the Windflower. They 
 threatened, if he remained, to 
 effect his forcible metathesis, 
 and subject his fleece to inus- 
 tion. One well-versed in phy- 
 siognomy would have discover- 
 ed in his countenance at this 
 
 the mighty yell of 'Order!' 
 from a pair of brazen lungs, 
 which cry majestically shut 
 down the noisy crowd at once. 
 The fat Unknown commenced 
 his remarks; but it soon be- 
 came fully evident that he was 
 drunk. Nobody could make 
 head or tail of his speech, or 
 give the remotest guess at what 
 he was driving at. His voice 
 grew thicker and thicker; he 
 stumbled awfully, and gave 
 other evidences of being well 
 swizzled — such as making faces, 
 and winking significantly, to aid 
 his meaning. The crowd were 
 soon disgusted. Cries of ' Dry 
 up ! — dry up !' became frequent, 
 and hisses, hoots, shrill noises 
 of various kinds, effectually 
 flabbergasted him. This effect 
 was partly brought about by 
 the apples, oranges, &c., that 
 showered around him — one hit- 
 
254 
 
 A Delibation on Style. 
 
 moment strong indications of 
 intimidation and alarm ; for the 
 expressions of displeasure were 
 now ecumenical. The defoe- 
 dated atmosphere was resonant 
 with the tumult. Projectiles 
 were traversing the whole inte- 
 rior — impinging freely against 
 his person. He now digni- 
 fiedly placed his zoophoric cane 
 under his arm, salaamed with 
 grace, and passed majestically 
 from the field of vision. His 
 stately avolation, conjoined 
 with the simultaneous sibila- 
 tion, afforded a diverting in- 
 stance of the overwhelming 
 power of the popular will. The 
 ponderous quondam declaimer, 
 being stricken in the sinister 
 optic by a flying missile, pro- 
 bably proceeded to negociate 
 for a xerocollyrium." 
 
 Is comment necessary ? 
 
 ting him in the left peeper. So, 
 concluding to tortle, he drew 
 himself up, proud but disgust- 
 ed, bowed sarcastically, and 
 dignifiedly cut his lucky. No 
 use trying to stem a crowd. 
 The first thing the greasy vic- 
 tim probably did, after leaving, 
 was to buy a plaster for his 
 bunged eye." 
 
L'ENVOI. 
 
 "Honest Sancho — discreet Sancho — Christian and sincere 
 Sancho, let us leave these phantoms, and go in quest of adven- 
 tures more dignified and substantial." — Don Quixote. 
 
 " What a case am I in, then, that am neither a good epi- 
 logue, nor cannot insinuate with you in the behalf of a good 
 play !" — As You Like it. 
 
 GE:^^TLE EEADER:— Since you have foUowed 
 me so far, I take it you are my friend. And I 
 am yours. Believe me, I am not one of those in- 
 sufferable persons who, to speak as a musician, 
 delight to make a tedious solo of that which was 
 expected to be a duet, and have the assurance to term 
 their performance an harmonious conversation. For 
 now the height of my desire is, that you might be 
 with me here, in body, prepared to sustain, to the 
 
256 L'Envoi. 
 
 full, your part in that friendly chat which I should 
 take the care to set going. I am ready, now, to lay 
 aside, as a thing to be disused, this comic mask, with 
 its exaggerated grin, from behind which I have some- 
 times peeped for a moment, to set you thinking by 
 the apparition of a sober countenance. I would love 
 to listen, with a pleased and serious attention, to all 
 you would kindly say : for the voice of a friend is a 
 pleasant music to me, and is never wearisome. 
 
 But this may not be. Much against my will, I 
 must alone sustain the burden of this last commu- 
 nion, if there be one ; — on me devolves the duty of 
 reviewing our brief acquaintance, of expressing good 
 wishes for the future, and bidding the final adieux. 
 As we observe, in actual life, that they who are most 
 affected by the nearness of a separation, are the least 
 heartened to make a flourish with their protestations ; 
 so it will become me to cultivate a brevity, in this 
 place, and a manner chastened by subdued emotion, — ■ 
 and not to weary you with prolonged and insincere 
 assurances, or shock your nicer feelings by the display 
 of an un^atural gaiety, 
 
 '^ It is certain that good Humour do wonderfully 
 heighten Beauty," is a cheerful sentiment found in 
 
L'Envoi. 257 
 
 Mr. Pips his Diary. Beauty not less of mind, fair 
 reader, tlian person. How may we promote this 
 \" good Humour," so justly valued by Mr. Pips ? 
 Why, in no better way than by the reading of cheer- 
 ful books. If Mr. Pepper and I have made a book 
 of this kind, — if it should happen to have brightened 
 some dull faces, or lightened for the moment a few 
 heavy hearts — why, I cannot say I am sorry we 
 allowed ourselves to write it. I might almost address 
 my associate in the language of the warm-hearted 
 Mrs. Gamp, who, at the termination of some alter- 
 nated funereal labor, exclaims to Mrs. Harris with 
 cordiality : " I hope it won't be long afore we works 
 together, off and on, again." On second thought, it 
 w^ould not be possible to make that classic language 
 apply ; since Mr. Pepper will hardly lend himself 
 again to the schemes of a literary speculator. But 
 there is nothing to prevent me from again skimming 
 the cream off a most prodigious quantity of the 
 " milk of human kindness," and blessing the world 
 with the oleaginous result. 
 
 Stupid me ! where is my pet figure of the " Museum 
 of Fancies?" You will remember I made a great 
 flourish with it when I bowed you in. But every 
 
258 L'Envoi. 
 
 one, now and then, " misses his figure." So you 
 have "seen everything," have you? And now, I 
 suppose, you want your money back. " Don't yon 
 wish you may get it!" I see I wrong you: you 
 were but regretting the smallness of the collection. 
 I could easily have made it larger ; but I thought it 
 wise to err on the safer side. Perhaps, so far from 
 being displeased, you have at times half allowed 
 yourself to think it would be a fine recreation to 
 "make such things" yourself. Strangle those 
 fancies, my friend, as fast as they are born. Even 
 the frailest, of the fabrics you admire, were not made 
 without labor : and the artiste had not always a grin 
 on his face. Be thankful you have the heart to laugh 
 at conceits which to him have long outlived their 
 point, if they ever seemed to have one. 
 
 You " must be going ?" Well, good-bye : — did I 
 hurt you ? Ah ! it has been remarked my grasp is 
 hearty. I see one may be too cordial. Let me wave 
 my hand, and say : Farewell. 
 
 THE EXHIBITION IS CLOSED: 
 
 And the Smiling Proprietor (A Great Humbug) Gone 
 
 WITH THE Money. 
 
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 And New Editions Just Published by 
 
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 THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA UBRARY