Part 15

"Good Lord!" he exclaimed, in his he-and-she tones, "HELP ME OUT! _Help me out!_ I have broken my bones!" "Help you out?" said a Paddy who passed, "what a bother! Why, there's two of you there--can't you help one another?" O! O! Orator Puff, One voice for an orator's surely enough.

THOMAS MOORE.

THE GOUTY MERCHANT AND THE STRANGER.

In Broad Street building (on a winter night), Snug by his parlor-fire, a gouty wight Sat all alone, with one hand rubbing His feet rolled up in fleecy hose: With t' other he'd beneath his nose The Public Ledger, in whose columns grubbing, He noted all the sales of hops, Ships, shops, and slops; Gum, galls, and groceries; ginger, gin, Tar, tallow, turmeric, turpentine, and tin; When lo! a decent personage in black Entered and most politely said,-- "Your footman, sir, has gone his nightly track To the King's Head, And left your door ajar; which I Observed in passing by, And thought it neighborly to give you notice." "Ten thousand thanks; how very few get, In time of danger, Such kind attention from a stranger! Assuredly, that fellow's throat is Doomed to a final drop at Newgate: He knows, too, (the unconscionable elf!) That there's no soul at home except myself." "Indeed," replied the stranger (looking grave), "Then he's a double knave; He knows that rogues and thieves by scores Nightly beset unguarded doors: And see, how easily might one Of these domestic foes, Even beneath your very nose, Perform his knavish tricks; Enter your room, as I have done, Blow out your candles--thus--and thus-- Pocket your silver candlesticks, And--walk off--thus"-- So said, so done; he made no more remark Nor waited for replies, But marched off with his prize, Leaving the gouty merchant in the dark.

HORACE SMITH.

THE DIVERTING HISTORY OF JOHN GILPIN.

SHOWING HOW HE WENT FARTHER THAN HE INTENDED, AND CAME SAFE HOME AGAIN.

John Gilpin was a citizen Of credit and renown, A trainband captain eke was he Of famous London town.

John Gilpin's spouse said to her dear-- "Though wedded we have been These twice ten tedious years, yet we No holiday have seen.

"To morrow is our wedding-day, And we will then repair Unto the Bell at Edmonton All in a chaise and pair.

"My sister and my sister's child, Myself and children three, Will fill the chaise; so you must ride On horseback after we."

He soon replied, "I do admire Of womankind but one, And you are she, my dearest dear: Therefore it shall be done.

"I am a linendraper bold, As all the world doth know, And my good friend the calender Will lend his horse to go."

Quoth Mrs. Gilpin, "That's well said; And for that wine is dear, We will be furnished with our own, Which is both bright and clear."

John Gilpin kissed his loving wife; O'erjoyed was he to find, That, though on pleasure she was bent, She had a frugal mind.

The morning came, the chaise was brought, But yet was not allowed To drive up to the door, lest all Should say that she was proud.

So three doors off the chaise was stayed, Where they did all get in; Six precious souls, and all agog To dash through thick and thin.

Smack went the whip, round went the wheels. Were never folks so glad; The stones did rattle underneath, As if Cheapside were mad.

John Gilpin at his horse's side Seized fast the flowing mane, And up he got in haste to ride. But soon came down again;

For saddle-tree scarce reached had he, His journey to begin, When, turning round his head, he saw Three customers come in.

So down he came; for loss of time, Although it grieved him sore, Yet loss of pence, full well he knew, Would trouble him much more.

'T was long before the customers Were suited to their mind, When Betty screaming came down stairs, "The wine is left behind!"

"Good lack!" quoth he, "yet bring it me, My leathern belt likewise, In which I bear my trusty sword When I do exercise."

Now Mistress Gilpin (careful soul!) Had two stone bottles found, To hold the liquor that she loved, And keep it safe and sound.

Each bottle had a curling ear, Through which the belt he drew, And hung a bottle on each side, To make his balance true.

Then over all, that he might be Equipped from top to toe, His long red cloak, well brushed and neat, He manfully did throw.

Now see him mounted once again Upon his nimble steed, Full slowly pacing o'er the stones, With caution and good heed.

But finding soon a smoother road Beneath his well-shod feet, The snorting beast began to trot, Which galled him in his seat.

"So, fair and softly," John he cried, But John he cried in vain; That trot became a gallop soon, In spite of curb and rein.

So stooping down, as needs he must Who cannot sit upright, He grasped the mane with both his hands, And eke with all his might.

His horse, who never in that sort Had handled been before. What thing upon his back had got Did wonder more and more.

Away went Gilpin, neck or naught; Away went hat and wig; He little dreamt, when he set out, Of running such a rig.

The wind did blow, the cloak did fly, Like streamer long and gay, Till, loop and button failing both, At last it flew away.

Then might all people well discern The bottles he had slung; A bottle swinging at each side, As hath been said or sung.

The dogs did bark, the children screamed, Up flew the windows all; And every soul cried out, "Well done!" As loud as he could bawl.

Away went Gilpin,--who but he? His fame soon spread around, "He carries weight! he rides a race! 'T is for a thousand pound!"

And still as fast as he drew near, 'T was wonderful to view, How in a trice the turnpike men Their gates wide open threw.

And now, as he went bowing down His reeking head full low, The bottles twain behind his back Were shattered at a blow.

Down ran the wine into the road, Most piteous to be seen, Which made his horse's flanks to smoke As they had basted been.

But still he seemed to carry weight, With leathern girdle braced; For all might see the bottle necks Still dangling at his waist.

Thus all through merry Islington These gambols did he play, Until he came unto the Wash Of Edmonton so gay;

And there he threw the wash about On both sides of the way, Just like unto a trundling mop, Or a wild goose at play.

At Edmonton his loving wife From the balcony spied Her tender husband, wondering much To see how he did ride.

"Stop, stop, John Gilpin!--Here's the house," They all at once did cry; "The dinner waits, and we are tired." Said Gilpin, "So am I!"

But yet his horse was not a whit Inclined to tarry there; For why?--his owner had a house Pull ten miles off, at Ware.

So like an arrow swift he flew, Shot by an archer strong; So did he fly--which brings me to The middle of my song.

Away went Gilpin out of breath, And sore against his will. Till at his friend the calender's His horse at last stood still.

The calender, amazed to see His neighbor in such trim, Laid down his pipe, flew to the gate, And thus accosted him:

"What news? what news? your tidings tell; Tell me you must and shall,-- Say why bareheaded you are come, Or why you come at all?"

Now Gilpin had a pleasant wit, And loved a timely joke; And thus unto the calender In merry guise he spoke:

"I came because your horse would come; And, if I well forebode, My hat and wig will soon be here, They are upon the road."

The calender, right glad to find His friend in merry pin, Returned him not a single word, But to the house went in;

Whence straight he came with hat and wig; A wig that flowed behind, A hat not much the worse for wear, Each comely in its kind.

He held them up, and in his turn Thus showed his ready wit, "My head is twice as big as yours, They therefore needs must fit.

"But let me scrape the dirt away That hangs upon your face; And stop and eat, for well you may Be in a hungry case."

Said John, "It is my wedding-day, And all the world would stare, If wife should dine at Edmonton, And I should dine at Ware."

So turning to his horse, he said, "I am in haste to dine; 'T was for your pleasure you came here, You shall go back for mine."

Ah, luckless speech, and bootless boast! For which he paid full dear; For, while he spake, a braying ass Did sing most loud and clear;

Whereat his horse did snort, as he Had heard a lion roar, And galloped off with all his might, As he had done before.

Away went Gilpin, and away Went Gilpin's hat and wig: He lost them sooner than at first, For why?--they were too big.

Now Mistress Gilpin, when she saw Her husband posting down Into the country far away, She pulled out half a crown;

And thus unto the youth she said, That drove them to the Bell, "This shall be yours when you bring back My husband safe and well."

The youth did ride, and soon did meet John coming back amain; Whom in a trice he tried to stop By catching at his rein;

But not performing what he meant, And gladly would have done, The frightened steed he frightened more, And made him faster run.

Away went Gilpin, and away Went postboy at his heels, The postboy's horse right glad to miss The lumbering of the wheels.

Six gentlemen upon the road, Thus seeing Gilpin fly, With postboy scampering in the rear, They raised the hue and cry:--

"Stop thief! stop thief!--a highwayman!" Not one of them was mute; And all and each that passed that way Did join in the pursuit.

And now the turnpike-gates again Flew open in short space; The toll-man thinking, as before, That Gilpin rode a race.

And so he did, and won it too, For he got first to town; Nor stopped till where he had got up He did again get down.

Now let us sing, "Long live the king, And Gilpin, long live he; And when he next doth ride abroad, May I be there to see!"

WILLIAM COWPER.

EPIGRAMS BY S. T. COLERIDGE.

COLOGNE.

In Köln, a town of monks and bones, And pavements fanged with murderous stones, And rags, and hags, and hideous wenches,-- I counted two-and-seventy stenches, All well-defined and several stinks! Ye nymphs that reign o'er sewers and sinks, The river Rhine, it is well known, Doth wash your city of Cologne; But tell me, nymphs! what power divine Shall henceforth wash the river Rhine?

* * * * *

Sly Beelzebub took all occasions To try Job's constancy and patience. He took his honor, took his health; He took his children, took his wealth, His servants, oxen, horses, cows-- But cunning Satan did _not_ take his spouse.

But Heaven, that brings out good from evil, And loves to disappoint the devil, Had predetermined to restore _Twofold_ all he had before; His servants, horses, oxen, cows-- Short-sighted devil, not to take his spouse!

* * * * *

Hoarse Mævius reads his hobbling verse To all, and at all times, And finds them both divinely smooth, His voice as well as rhymes.

Yet folks say Mævius is no ass; But Mævius makes it clear That he's a monster of an ass,-- An ass without an ear!

* * * * *

Swans sing before they die,--'t were no bad thing Did certain persons die before they sing.

THE RAZOR-SELLER.

A fellow in a market-town, Most musical, cried razors up and down, And offered twelve for eighteen pence; Which certainly seemed wondrous cheap, And, for the money, quite a heap, As every man would buy, with cash and sense.

A country bumpkin the great offer heard,-- Poor Hodge, who suffered by a broad black beard, That seemed a shoe-brush stuck beneath his nose: With cheerfulness the eighteen pence he paid, And proudly to himself in whispers said, "This rascal stole the razors, I suppose.

"No matter if the fellow _be_ a knave. Provided that the razors _shave_; It certainly will be a monstrous prize." So home the clown, with his good fortune, went, Smiling in heart and soul content, And quickly soaped himself to ears and eyes.

Being well lathered from a dish or tub, Hodge now began with grinning pain to grub, Just like a hedger cutting furze; 'T was a vile razor!--then the rest he tried,-- All were impostors. "Ah!" Hodge sighed, "I wish my eighteen pence within my purse."

In vain to chase his beard, and bring the graces, He cut, and dug, and winced, and stamped, and swore; Brought blood, and danced, blasphemed, and made wry faces, And cursed each razor's body o'er and o'er:

His muzzle formed of _opposition_ stuff, Firm as a Foxite, would not lose its ruff; So kept it,--laughing at the steel and suds. Hodge, in a passion, stretched his angry jaws, Vowing the direst vengeance with clenched claws, On the vile cheat that sold the goods. "Razors! a mean, confounded dog, Not fit to scrape a hog!"

Hodge sought the fellow,--found him,--and begun: "P'rhaps, Master Razor-rogue, to you 't is fun, That people flay themselves out of their lives. You rascal; for an hour have I been grubbing, Giving my crying whiskers here a scrubbing, With razors just like oyster-knives. Sirrah! I tell you you're a knave, To cry up razors that can't shave!"

"Friend," quoth the razor-man, "I'm not a knave; As for the razors you have bought, Upon my soul, I never thought That they would _shave_." "Not think they'd _shave_!" quoth Hodge, with wondering eyes, And voice not much unlike an Indian yell; "What were they made for, then, you dog?" he cries. "_Made_," quoth the fellow with a smile,--"_to sell_."

DR. JOHN WOLCOTT (_Peter Pindar_).

PAPER.

A CONVERSATIONAL PLEASANTRY.

Some wit of old--such wits of old there were, Whose hints showed meaning, whose allusions care-- By one brave stroke to mark all human kind, Called clear, blank paper every infant mind: Where still, as opening sense her dictates wrote, Fair virtue put a seal, or vice a blot.

The thought was happy, pertinent, and true; Methinks a genius might the plan pursue. I (can you pardon my presumption?)--I, No wit, no genius, yet for once will try.

Various the paper various wants produce,-- The wants of fashion, elegance, and use. Men are as various; and, if right I scan, Each sort of paper represents some man.

Pray note the fop, half powder and half lace; Nice, as a bandbox were his dwelling-place; He's the _gilt-paper_, which apart you store, And lock from vulgar hands in the 'scrutoire.

Mechanics, servants, farmers, and so forth Are _copy-paper_ of inferior worth; Less prized, more useful, for your desk decreed; Free to all pens, and prompt at every need.

The wretch whom avarice bids to pinch and spare, Starve, cheat, and pilfer, to enrich an heir, Is _coarse brown paper_, such as pedlers choose To wrap up wares, which better men will use.

Take next the miser's contrast, who destroys Health, fame, and fortune in a round of joys; Will any paper match him? Yes, throughout; He's a true _sinking-paper_, past all doubt. The retail politician's anxious thought Deems this side always right, and that stark naught; He foams with censure; with applause he raves; A dupe to rumors and a tool of knaves; He'll want no type, his weakness to proclaim, While such a thing as _foolscap_ has a name.

The hasty gentleman, whose blood runs high, Who picks a quarrel, if you step awry, Who can't a jest, a hint, or look endure,-- What is he?--what? _Touch-paper_, to be sure.

What are our poets, take them as they fall, Good, bad, rich, poor, much read, not read at all? They and their works in the same class you'll find; They are the mere _waste-paper_ of mankind.

Observe the maiden, innocently sweet! She's fair, _white paper_, an unsullied sheet; On which the happy man whom fate ordains May write his name, and take her for his pains.

One instance more, and only one I'll bring; 'T is the great man who scorns a little thing; Whose thoughts, whose deeds, whose maxims, are his own, Formed on the feelings of his heart alone, True, genuine, _royal paper_ is his breast; Of all the kinds most precious, purest, best.

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN.

EPITAPH

FOR THE TOMBSTONE ERECTED OVER THE MARQUIS OF ANGLESEA'S LEG, LOST AT WATERLOO.

Here rests, and let no saucy knave Presume to sneer and laugh, To learn that moldering in the grave Is laid a British Calf.

For he who writes these lines is sure, That those who read the whole Will find such laugh was premature, For here, too, lies a sole.

And here five little ones repose, Twin born with other five, Unheeded by their brother toes, Who all are now alive.

A leg and foot to speak more plain, Rests here of one commanding; Who though his wits he might retain, Lost half his understanding.

And when the guns, with thunder fraught, Poured bullets thick as hail, Could only in this way be taught To give the foe leg-bail.

And now in England, just as gay As in the battle brave, Goes to a rout, review, or play, With one foot in the grave.

Fortune in vain here showed her spite, For he will still be found, Should England's sons engage in fight, Resolved to stand his ground.

But Fortune's pardon I must beg; She meant not to disarm, For when she lopped the hero's leg, She did not seek his harm.

And but indulged a harmless whim; Since he could walk with one, She saw two legs were lost on him, Who never meant to run.

GEORGE CANNING.

RUDOLPH THE HEADSMAN.

FROM "THIS IS IT."

Rudolph, professor of the headsman's trade, Alike was famous for his arm and blade. One day a prisoner Justice had to kill Knelt at the block to test the artist's skill. Bare-armed, swart-visaged, gaunt, and shaggy-browed, Rudolph the headsman rose above the crowd. His falchion lightened with a sudden gleam, As the pike's armor flashes in the stream. He sheathed his blade; he turned as if to go; The victim knelt, still waiting for the blow. "Why strikest not? Perform thy murderous act," The prisoner said. (His voice was slightly cracked.) "Friend, I _have_ struck," the artist straight replied; "Wait but one moment, and yourself decide." He held his snuff-box,--"Now then, if you please!" The prisoner sniffed, and, with a crashing sneeze, Off his head tumbled, bowled along the floor, Bounced down the steps;--the prisoner said no more.

OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES.

SONG

OF ONE ELEVEN YEARS IN PRISON.

Whene'er with haggard eyes I view This dungeon that I 'm rotting in, I think of those companions true Who studied with me at the U- niversity of Gottingen, niversity of Gottingen.

[_Weeps and pulls out a blue kerchief, with which he wipes his eyes; gazing tenderly at it, he proceeds:_]

Sweet kerchief, checked with heavenly blue, Which once my love sat knotting in-- Alas, Matilda then was true! At least I thought so at the U- niversity of Gottingen, niversity of Gottingen.

[_At the repetition of this line he clanks his chains in cadence._]

Barbs! barbs! alas! how swift you flew, Her neat post-wagon trotting in! Ye bore Matilda from my view; Folorn I languished at the U- niversity of Gottingen, niversity of Gottingen.

This faded form! this pallid hue! This blood my veins is clotting in! My years are many--they were few When first I entered at the U- niversity of Gottingen, niversity of Gottingen.

There first for thee my passion grew, Sweet, sweet Matilda Pottingen! Thou wert the daughter of my tu- tor, law-professor at the U- niversity of Gottingen, niversity of Gottingen.

Sun, moon, and thou, vain world, adieu, That kings and priests are plotting in; Here doomed to starve on water gru- el, never shall I see the U- niversity of Gottingen, niversity of Gottingen.

[_During the last stanza he dashes his head repeatedly against the walls of his prison, and finally so hard as to produce a visible contusion. He then throws himself on the floor in an agony. The curtain drops, the music still continuing to play till it is wholly fallen._]

GEORGE CANNING.

LITTLE BILLEE.

There were three sailors of Bristol City Who took a boat and went to sea, But first with beef and captain's biscuits And pickled pork they loaded she.

There was gorging Jack, and guzzling Jimmy, And the youngster he was little Billee; Now when they'd got as far as the Equator, They'd nothing left but one split pea.

Says gorging Jack to guzzling Jimmy, "I am extremely hungaree." To gorging Jack says guzzling Jimmy, "We've nothing left, us must eat we."

Says gorging Jack to guzzling Jimmy, "With one another we shouldn't agree! There's little Bill, he's young and tender, We're old and tough, so let's eat he."

"O Billy! we're going to kill and eat you, So undo the button of your chemie." When Bill received this information, He used his pocket-handkerchie.

"First let me say my catechism Which my poor mother taught to me." "Make haste! make haste!" says guzzling Jimmy, While Jack pulled out his snickersnee.

Billy went up to the main-top-gallant mast, And down he fell on his bended knee, He scarce had come to the Twelfth Commandment When up he jumps--"There's land I see!

"Jerusalem and Madagascar And North and South Amerikee, There's the British flag a-riding at anchor, With Admiral Napier, K. C. B."

So when they got aboard of the Admiral's, He hanged fat Jack and flogged Jimmee, But as for little Bill he made him The Captain of a Seventy-three.

WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY.

CAPTAIN REECE.[5]

Of all the ships upon the blue, No ship contained a better crew Than that of worthy Captain Reece, Commanding of The Mantelpiece.

He was adored by all his men, For worthy Captain Reece, R. N., Did all that lay within him to Promote the comfort of his crew.

If ever they were dull or sad, Their captain danced to them like mad, Or told, to make the time pass by, Droll legends of his infancy.

A feather-bed had every man, Warm slippers and hot-water can, Brown windsor from the captain's store, A valet, too, to every four.

Did they with thirst in summer burn, Lo, seltzogenes at every turn, And on all very sultry days Cream ices handed round on trays.

Then currant wine and ginger pops Stood handily on all the "tops:" And, also, with amusement rife, A "Zoetrope, or Wheel of Life."

New volumes came across the sea From Mister Mudie's libraree; The Times and Saturday Review Beguiled the leisure of the crew.

Kind-hearted Captain Reece. R. N., Was quite devoted to his men; In point of fact, good Captain Reece Beatified The Mantelpiece.

One summer eve, at half past ten, He said (addressing all his men), "Come, tell me, please, what I can do, To please and gratify my crew.

"By any reasonable plan I'll make you happy if I can; My own convenience count as _nil_; It is my duty, and I will."