CHRONICLES



SOUTHPORT



IN 1845,



WITH A VARIETY OF OTHER



MISCELLANEOUS PIECES,



WRITTEN EXPRE8SLY FOR



"THE SOUTHPORT VISITER."



BY GEORGE WILKINSON.






SOUTHPORT :



PRINTED AND PUBLISHED AT THE VISITER OFFICE.
1846.



TH H13

y/4r



5^40



PREFACE.



In submitting- to the Public the following unworthy-
volume, there appears on its perusal so much am-
biguity that without a few explanatory words the
reader may be lost in mist, and regard it as nothing
more than a November fog. In order to disperse
the clouds, and place the " Chronicles " in a clear
light, a word or two about a very anomalous piece
of architecture called the " Ionic Pillar " will be
necessary. I need merely state (for I can state
no more) that it became a thing of this earth in
the month of June, A.D. 1845, since which period
it has resolutely maintained its position at the corner
of Nevill-street ; and it is computed by many that
nothing subordinate to an earthquake will ever move



PREFACE.



it. It is of no earthly use; stands isolated from
its kind ; is utterly unknown from whence it came ;
and the same ignorance prevails as to its future
destiny. It may appear singular to many that any
one should write about a " Pillar." Perhaps so ;
but it is no less singular than true that Coleridge
wrote about a "young ass," and Swift about a
"broomstick," — the conjoint ideas being no doubt
taken from the don key- boys.

However faulty these " Chronicles " may be, they
are possessed of one grand redeeming point, which
will be obvious — and that is the truth of them ;
for as they no doubt will be translated into the
Italian, Ottoman, Persian, and Egyptian tongues, for
the individual amusement of the Pope, the Sultan, the
Imaum, and the Pacha, I have adhered as strictly
as possible to facts, in order that these great men
may form a proper estimate of my character.

With regard to the article entitled the " Ladies 5
Club," it is nothing more than a dreamy emana-
tion, generated by the influence of cigars and opium ;
the former to divert the mind from pain, and the
latter to relieve it. For this I offer an apology.



With respect to the rest, there is nothing hut
what is perfectly intelligible ; or if the reader should
chance to stumble over anything he cannot com-
prehend, I trust he will take the advice of the
author and light his pipe with the unworthy leaf,
consoling himself with the assurance that he need
fear no future molestation, for the quill that once
inscribed these " Chronicles " has long ago been
turned into a toothpick,

THE AUTHOR.



L



POETICAL ESSAYS.



FRIENDSHIP.



There is a link in Friendship's heavenly chain,
Commingling genial souls, that nought can sever ;

'Tis so unmix'd with self's pervading reign,
That when once blended, it exists for ever!

Passion may weaken, nought but death can part,

That real friendship that ties heart to heart !



LINES



From Fanny's lips I stole a kiss—
A blush pass'd o'er her cheek ;

Her dark eye lour'd upon the bliss,
Although she did not speak.

" Oh, frown not thus, dear girl," I said ;

" I only did to thee
What I would wish, if in thy stead,

Thou would'st have done to me."



POETICAL ESSAYS.



A WINTRY NIGHT IN 1845.



The deep'ning clouds are gath'ring fast,
Loud roars the wild inconstant blast,
The pelting rain and furious sleet
Have raked the cold deserted street ;
The bleak winds howl, the billows roar
Afar on the resounding shore,
And darkness, mantling o'er the light,
Bespeaks a wild tempestuous night.

Draw down the blind, the curtains close,
Stir up the fire from dull repose —
The kindling flame with shadows bright
Shall glad us with its genial light :
The tea is hissing in the urn —
Draw round the chair, the table turn ;
And thus shut in, our thoughts shall be
On outward ills by land and sea.

And fancy pictures to the eye
The wild expanse of sea and sky,
And ships all laden with the price
Of millions of rich merchandise ;
Of treasures brought from far Peru,
Of arts and manufactures too.
An hundred such methinks I see
Gulp'd up by the rapacious sea.

And I can summon up to view
The avaricious merchant too,
Now starting as the bellowing blast,
Increas'd in fury, rushes past,



POETICAL ESSAYS.



From some high headland gazing far
For but one solitary star
To whisper hope, and soothly say —
The tempest soon will pass away.

Well, what is gold? 'Tis but the curse
That makes us rich, and makes us worse ;
Let all be lost, if it but save
One guilty mortal from the wave !
Wealth dies with time — the soul must be
Prolonged through all eternity !
And better lose the dross of earth
Than pearls of heaven of so much worth.

Another blast ! — the infuriate gale
Still louder bellows forth its wail ;
Some monster ship methinks I see
With emigrants cast off at sea —
Poor exiles from their native soil,
Embark'd for distant wealth to toil;
All crowded there to curse or bless
Death's sealing of their wretchedness.

Like some mad giant of the deep,
She and her victims onward sweep ;
Masts, spars, and bulwarks, sails, and helm,
All gone ! — till maddening seas o'erwhelm
The crackling hull ! — one shriek — the last ! —
Rends sky and ocean, and 'tis past !
A thousand victims, knelt in prayer,
With hands uplifted, perish there.

And on the bare and trackless heath
The frozen traveller sleeps in death ;
And children, worn by foul disease,
Lie huddled 'neath the leafless trees !
In vain their father's rags are spread
To screen their limbs — the spark hath fled !
Whilst he, unpitied, raves for death,
And, cursing nature, yields his breath.



POETICAL ESSAYS.



God save the wayward mariner,

And help the houseless wanderer;

The widow with her orphans bless,

And shelter all the shelterless !

Give bread to eat, and fire to cheer

Their hearthless homes, their groanings hear,

And mitigate, as seemeth right,

The horrors of this dreadful night.



THE ALBATRO



Oh ! wild is the flight of the albatross, sailing

His range 'mid the skies, over mountain and wave,
Like a spirit immortal, his might never failing,
On wings of creation his God only gave.

Through the storm in its wildness,

The blackness of night,
Or the ev'ning of mildness,
Unchanged is his flight ;
And he rendeth or rides on the clouds through the air,
Like the lord of that untrodden wilderness there.

Where the red sun is blazing his eye never quails,

Nor cowers to the lightning the earth that hath riv'n ;
And he mingleth the cry of his wrath as he sails

With the thunders that roll 'neath the arches of heav'n -,
And the hope of the wayward

For ever hath fled
When he wails o'er the ocean
His knell for the dead ;
For the wave will not rest or the wind soften down
While there's fire in his eye or there's fear in his frown.



POETICAL ESSAYS.



Is there auglit upon earth like the albatross ?

With a soul as free and as fetterless —
A spirit as wild and unstain'd by the dross
Of the world and its kindred wretchedness?
An eye never sleeping,

Or dimm'd by a tear —
A heart never weeping —
A soul without fear,
That would range from its earth bed, the deep vault which lies
'Neath the glory eternal, whose light never dies.

Long life to his wide-spreading pinions be given !

No bound ever cross him 'mid ocean and sky !

Like a spirit of freedom descending from heav'n,

The soul that la noble responds to his cry.

Will the blight of creation

E'er fall on his plume ?
Will the wild breeze waft o'er him
The breath of the tomb ?
Will he die ? Who shall not ? Be the ocean his bed !
Wliere the albatross sleepeth in peace with the dead.



THE SONG OF THE DONKEY.



My name is Albert. I'm the prince

Of Ass-anine descent ;
I bear the cross, because my sires

To Palestine were sent ;
And though their courage some may doubt,

I say to each beholder,
If he'll but lift the saddle up,

He'll see it on my shoulder.



POETICAL ESSAYS.



Alas ! but from the ranks of war

How basely I've descended !
With Bol toners and Wiganers,

My woes are never ended ;
For, what with kicks, and sticks, and pricks,

It's no use to resist 'em :
They make us work as if we went

Upon the factory system.

I've hung my head and slouch'd my ears,

And tried to look less knightly ;
But all declare they never saw

A donkey look so sprightly !
And there's a man of eighteen stone

Determined so to work us,
He picks me out, because he swears

He's seen me at a circus.

I've rais'd my voice along the shore,

In hopes to meet with pity ;
But even ladies only smile,

And say they think I'm witty !
So sleek I am, they say also

I'm very like Beau Brummell ;
But I pities him if on his back

He ever had a pommel.

I've pitch'd some over head and ears,

Then kick'd them a salute -,
But they only mount again ; and say,

" There's mettle in the brute !"
Once in the Nile I laid me down,

To cool a Bolton brain,
When the wulgar wretch declar'd he'd wait

Till I got up again.

What shall I do ? My back is stript

Of all its soft enamel :
I'm blind with sand ! Why don't they try

To introduce a camel ?



POETICAL ESSAYS.



He's fitter for the work than I,
And well knows what he's arter ;

He says he'd come, but only fears
A-running to low-water.

They tie sweet flowers about my head,

My features to adorn ;
But if I get the rose before,

Behind I get the thorn.
And when a lady ass I meet,

Her kind regards revealing,
I may not even raise my voice

To indicate my feeling.

I'll wrench my girth and saddle off,

And they may take who need 'em ;
I'll tear the crupper from my tail,

And wag it well in freedom.
Huzza for thistles ! Farewell, all !

No longer will I stand ills,
But sing he-ho from morn to night —

An exile to the sand-hills !



ANNIE BELL.



I saw her in her illness — 'twas her last ! —

And death, with noiseless footstep, hover'd nigh;
Her young heart's greenness early felt the blast <

Of those who love but once, yet, loving, die.
'Twas sunset — and his crimson glory stream'd

Like light from where her kindred spirits dwell ;
And trees, with low, soft murmur, therein gleam'd,

As, sighing sorrowful, they seem'd to tell,
Alas ! the hapless doom of poor, poor Annie Bell !



POETICAL ESSAYS.



They tell you how, from childhood's early dawn,

The peaceful hamlet watch'd the op'ning flow'r
As, in her childish gambols on the lawn,

Her tiny form in play beguiled the hour ;
How harmless swains her ruby lips would kiss,

And bless the sunny light that richly fell
On her sweet curls and face, like lingering bliss

From some glad paradise, where once might dwell
The unborn soul to earth of sweet, sweet Annie Bell !

And years roll'd on, and nature's lavish hand

Still painted richer grace and beauty there \
And her clear voice, so beautiful and bland,

Told happiest thoughts within, so pure and fair;
Whilst merry, laughing eyes, more soft and blue

Than the warm summer firmament, could tell
How much of love her joyous spirit knew,

And how to nature's charms her soul would swell
To mingle love with praise, and glad poor Annie Bell !

Time flew apace. She lov'd; and, oh! such love

As angels only feel for God in heaven
Her young heart treasur'd ! 'Twas the spring which mov'd

All life's best feelings to the lov'd one given ;
Or if from that pure font one stream might flow

Less bright and crystal, 'twas she could not quell
That worship for the idolised below

Which should be all her God's. Alas ! too well
For mind and peace of soul lov'd poor, poor Annie Bell !

And when they speak of her, with tearful eyes

They tell you how at sunny eve they met —
When nature's face looked beautiful with dyes

Of mellowest glory ; when, the grief and fret
Of earth forgotten, near the streamlet's edge,

'Neath soft laburnams, they of love would tell,
And heart to heart each burning passion pledge ;

Whilst incens'd flow'rets only breathed the spell
Of that deep rapture known to happy Annie Bell !



POETICAL ESSAYS.



And now why lies she in the garb of death ?

Why gush th' unbidden tears from those sweet eyes
Once sorrowless ? Why fades the perfum'd breath,

And sobs of anguish from her bosom rise ?
Why turns she from her gaze that lock of hair

Once rapturously kiss'd ? Oh, why repel
The chaste white garment she had thought to wear

When merry church bells there would chronicle
The happy change in life that blest poor Annie Bell ?

A villain gain'd her heart, and prov'd untrue —

Crush'd with a serpent's coil that angel flow'r
More sweet than incense breath'd from heav'nly dew,

With all earth's excellence. Enough ! The hour
Fast closes round her ; all around is still,

And nature seems to pause ! One tear that fell,
Like the last drop grief ever more could spill,

Bedew'd her channel'd face ; and where may dwell
Enraptur'd saints in light, there dwells poor Annie Bell !

They point you out the grave (now verdant o'er

With moss and wild flowers) in the small churchyard,
Where they who knew her sadly stay to pour

The last sad tribute of unfeign'd regard ;
There stands the humble urn ; o'er those remains

"No blazing characters her virtues tell ;
But in that simple hamlet's bosom reigns

The monument where evermore will dwell,
Inscrib'd in holy tears, thy fate, poor Annie Bell !



10 POETICAL ESSAYS.



MERCY. — A DREAM.



The last fading ray of the sunlight had flown,

And the mantle of night o'er the ocean was thrown —

The wail of the wretched, the revel of glee,.

Like the silent departed, slept peacefully ;

For the spirit o'erloaded with sorrow and care,

In the softness of slumber, had ceas'd to despair ;

Whilst the visions of thought o'er my intellect stream'd,

The power of reason decay'd — and I dream'd.

And methought that I stood where no foot ever trod,

On a shore where no being e'er look'd on but God -,

No angel of solace drew nigh me to bless

My heart in that howling wilderness ;

But a form uncloth'd in the flesh of man,

With ghastly countenance, pale and wan,

Afar in the desert, with hollow breath,

Call'd me away to his shrine : it was death.

I follow'd the vision with fearful eyes,

Like a victim ordain'd as a sacrifice —

Through the dark retreats of his cave we past :

He paused, and upon me the death-look cast;

And a small bright star shone in the gloom

Its feeble light on a new-made tomb.

It was a terrible sight to view

My home in the earth to the life anew,

While the yellow arm was raised on high,

Like the headsman's blade to the culprit's eye ;

And the icy fingers slowly fell

To free the soul from its earthly shell !

Now I looked on the gaping tomb with dread,

For a reckless life of sin I had led.

Methought I could feel death's cold hand divide

The frail thread of existence — Mercy ! I died !



POETICAL ESSAYS. 11



And the hour ? — the eleventh ! What love reigns in heaven !
That wild cry was answer'd — all sin was forgiven !
And the angels of light wing'd the soul to its rest,
Repentent ! — elect ! — through eternity blest !



- — ==K33©©>£>«=-

LINES IN ILLNESS.



When moonlight trembles on the deep,
And winds have sigh'd themselves to sleep
When all is solemn stillness save
Th' eternal plashing of the wave,
And voiceless spirits seem to stir
The soul to holiness and pray'r —
To lull the fret and grief that we
Endure from life's perplexity :
Oh ! then, at such an hour, we feel
The cank'ring wound of woe to heal ;
The tear to dry upon the cheek
When all creation seems to speak
Of righteousness. We hear the word,
The mild response of nature's God ;
We bless it, and we praise the Bless'd.
" The heavy laden have their rest."
Away, the world ! For life why thirst ?
The bubble pleasure long hath burst,
And wan disease, with sickly breath,
But heralds the approach of death.
I fain would part with all in peace
As tranquil as an hour like this,
With holy peacefulness of soul
To harmonise with praise the whole,
And faith to know, whilst yet I live,
W T hat God hath given he still will give ;
Though undeserved, such gifts will be
Prolonged through all eternity.



12 POETICAL ESSAYS.



THE TWO TRADERS.



A down the west the ev'ning shade

Had lastly bid farewell to day,
And sweetly o'er each silent glade
The moon had shed her silver ray ;
The night was sweet —
No leaf e'en deign'd
A breeze to greet
Where silence reign'd :
'Twas like an eve when saints might rise
To wander forth from paradise.

Yet quickly bounding o'er that shore
The sound of human steps is near :
A burden in his arms he bore,

And wild his looks with inward fear ;
The ghastly glare

The shrouded cheek —
Of deep despair

They seem'd to speak ;
And wildly o'er that barren waste
A tall and frenzied figure pac'd.

He bore a babe — as sweet a child

As ever press'd its mother's knee ;
Its angel smile and forehead mild
Were emblems of its purity.
He did embrace

Its tender weight,
And kiss'd its face
In mad delight :
It seem'd the only thing to bless
His bosom in its wretchedness.



POETICAL ESSAYS. 13



He sate him down upon the road,

Among the Appenines, where lay-
No trace of human man's abode :
All desolate, he wip'd away
The burning tear,

And onward went,
Whilst on his ear
Did sweetly melt,
Like solace from some heavenly clime,
The distant toll of convent chime.

And 'neath the portal of the pile,

A victim of despair, he stood,
And echo'd at the gate. The smile
Of morning fann'd his feverish blood.
The holy strain

Of matin praise
The cloister'd voices
Sweet did raise :
So sweet it was, it seem'd to be
The hymn of truth and purity.

But whence the sound — the shrilly sound-
That falls upon the startled ear ?
The voices falter, and around
The pious abbot gaz'd with fear :
A stranger tall,

With flowing hair,
Did madly fall

Before him there —
A wretch that sought, and humbly knelt
To pray for mercy on his guilt.

" Oh, holy father !" cried the man,
" A tale of guilt I must unfold,
To ease the torture of this ban

That kills my rest ; but this I hold— -
This precious babe,
My only care—



14 POETICAL ESSAYS.



Its mother's cheek,
Its mother's hair —
The blossom of her form divine : —
I love it ! still it is not mine.

" Oh ! if the saints on high can heal
The heart corroded o'er and riv'n,
Oh, father ! tell me how to feel

The pray'r that sues for crimes forgiv'n ;
For I would gain
A long release,
And in the grave'
My troubles cease ;
For vengeance never will forbear
To fall upon a murderer.

" There was a time when not a sigh
Did ever show my want of peace ;
There was a time when one sweet eye
Could bid my every trouble cease ;
But that is gone,
And all is gone
Away ; and I
Am left alone
To tell what all my crimes have been,
But deeds of sorrow, shame, and sin.

" I had a brother ; and I lov'd
A maiden of all others true,
In whom, alas ! it hapless prov'd
My brother's love was centred too.
The nuptial peal —

The marriage glee —
Rang through the hall,
But not for me !
The vision of my hope had flown —
She and my brother both were one \

" But, oh ! the flow'r her cheek had fled—
Upon her lip no smile was there ;



POETICAL ESSAYS.



15



The sparkle of her eye was dead ;
The bosom's truth was painted fair.
Her father bade her

Take the oath ;
Her conscience and
Her heart did loathe.
Alas ! a cruel father he,
To blast his child's felicity !

" But yet I can remember still

She loved me — yet she dare not speak,
But left concealment, like the worm,
To feed and canker on her cheek ;
And soon the cold

Command of death
For ever quench'd
Her fev'rish breath,
And set her spotless spirit free
To everlasting purity.

u Yet, though her eye untimely clos'd

For ever in eternal night,
How short my brother's grief ! The wealth
Of thousands glitter'd in his sight.
But I did hear

The passing bell —
The sadness of
Its solemn knell :
It rent my heart — I know not how !
Methinks I hear it vibrate now !"



He wip'd away the burning drops

That bath'd his temples and his brow :
It seem'd to sooth his inward pain
To tell it to another now : —
" My brother robb'd,"

He cried, " by stealth,
My fortunes, to
Increase his wealth ;



16 POETICAL ESSAYS.



By artifice 'twas torn from me.
He was a cruel enemy !

" We both were traders on the main ;

And oft would fortune throw us wide
To distant shores away, and still
The deadly hate would not subside.
We never spoke

As brothers do,
But hated as
We nearer drew,
And. panted for each other's blood.
Still years passed onward in this feud.

" Far o'er the wide Atlantic sea,

To western shores, my brother sail'd ;
But Cephalonia, Zante, Corfu,
And other southern isles, I hail'd ;
And fortune seem'd

At length to be
The star of my
Prosperity !
Whilst on the wave, by tempests toss'd,
My brother's wealth and ships were lost.

" The hand that seem'd to lend him aid,

And kindly guide him, was withdrawn \
And he in madness saw at length
The sorrows of misfortune dawn :
My toils rewarded

He did see —
It fann'd the flame
Of enmity !
Ambitious hopes his breast assail'd ;
And thus from west to south he sail'd.

" Three sleepless nights have hurried by —
Three sleepless nights of misery !

I would not, father, feel again
That time for peace eternally ;



POETICAL ESSAYS. 17



For all that was

By heaven will'd
In deeds of darkness
Was fulfilled :
My brother's rage in death was o'er,
And mine in coldness was no more !

" 'Twas on a night — a dreadful night ! —

Within my cabin close I lay ;
My gallant comrades o'er me kept
The midnight vigil ; and the ray
Of heavenly light
Did sweetly rest
Upon the ocean's
Azure breast ;
Alas ! but o'er its soft control
The shades of darkness quickly stole.

" My dreams were broken, and methought

I heard the crash of thunders fall,
The dash of billows, and the voice
Of mighty winds ; and then o'er all
The lightning's glare

Did wildly stream —
I heard the sea-bird's
Hollow scream :
There was but near me and afar
The strife of elemental war.

" I strode the deck with hurried pace,

And there was not a hopeful ray
Shed o'er the sombre gloom. But where—
My gallant comrades — where are they ?
I call'd — but none

My voice could hear —
No friendly voiee
Responded near ;
The waves their winding-sheet had spread :
I call'd, but on the silent dead.



18 POETICAL ESSAYS.



" I look upon the ocean wave
As on my everlasting bed ;
The swell of waters struck mine ears —
My vessel sank, and o'er my head
The billows clos'd,
And loudly rung
Within mine ears ;
But still I clung
Unto a wreck : though hope was past,
The floating remnant still I grasped.

" My eyes were held aloft to heav'n —
My bosom heav'd its latest pray'r ;
I cried for mercy, and methought
My pray'r was not unheeded there ;
For kindly heaven,

Though all was strife,
Had bless'd the waning
Flame of life !
I felt its sands were nearly run,
And cried, e Oh, God, thy will be done !'

" And louder still the tempest beat,

And louder dash'd the stormy wave.
I gaz'd, but I could only see
The lightning pointing out my grave :
It rent the sky,

And by its light
Another object
Met my sight —
A hapless vessel that, like me,
Was left at th' mercy of the sea.

" Oh ! had I ne'er that vessel seen,

But clos'd my eyes to ope no more,
The consciousness of guilty deeds
And sorrow had alike been o'er.
Again I look'd

To heav'n, and knelt,



POETICAL ESSAYS. 19



And pity for
The victims felt.
Oh, father had I known — but hark ! —
That vessel — 'twas my brother's bark !

" The gushing tide, the mighty winds,

Her ev'ry trembling rafter shook ;
She sank to rise no more, for on
The adamantine rock she struck !
And only one

Was left to tell
The tale of woe
That on him fell —
Of storm and agony extreme —
The death-shriek and the dying scream.

" I look'd again — the morning light

At last descended on the shore :
Oh, God ! the sight that greeted me,
Forbid I ever should see more !
My brother's form —

I knew it well —
I heard him laugh
With fiendish yell !
And pointed scornfully at me,
The dying victim of the sea.

" The last sad thought to all on earth —

To which I breath' d my farewell sigh-
The meditation of the grave —
The hope of happiness on high,
That sooth'd when others

Were denied :
Those sacred joys
Within me died ;
No more they sweetly proffer'd rest —
Revenge rekindled in my breast !

" I struggled with the billows hard —
I breasted them ! — and then again



20 POETICAL ESSAYS.



My brother laugh'd at me. Oh, God !
It was no time for mockery !
The flame of vengeance

Nerved my hand —
I fought the storm —
I gain'd the land !
I had a dagger in my belt,
And quick the murd'rous blow was dealt I

" And there he lay ! — the purple stream

His silent bosom trickled o'er ;
His eye was clos'd, his breast was bath'd
Within the coldness of its gore :
And then in kinder
Words I spake —
Oh, father! but

He would not wake —
He would not wake, for sound he slept.
I gaz'd upon the corse, and wept !

" A sleeping infant near him lay ;

It was his child — his only child !
I kiss'd its tender brow ; but when
Th' unconscious little cherub sniil'd,
The tear of anguish

Dimmed my eye-
It was its mother's
Smile on high.
I could not look — my heart it brake :
I sav'd it for its mother's sake !

" Among these dreary Appenines

In vain I've sought a safe retreat ;
I've wander'd long and far, but still
The heart no friendly peace can greet.
The guilty sin

Comes o'er me now \
The burning drops
Bedew my brow ',



POETICAL ESSAYS. 21



And heav'n will never cleanse the sin
Of what I am, and what I've been !

" There is a feeling lingers here —

An earthly feeling — and a call
Upon the heart. Wilt thou but save
This baby, and I abjure all ?
And may it ne'er
Lisp the name
Of him whp sleeps
In guilt and shame :
Oh, father, may it never know
Its uncle's guilt, its father's woe !"

The old man saw his dying look,

And sadly heard the parting breath ;
The man of sorrow ceas'd to weep
For ever in eternal death !
The abbot low

Knelt by his side —
u May heav'n forgive !"
He faintly cried ;
" But where the earthless soul hath flown,
I dread to think ; but he is gone V



MEMORIALS OF MEDICALS.



MEMORIALS OF MEDICALS,



MR. DANIEL DARIUS DAMPER.



-, there



Ixa small market town, in the county of B

resided once a medical gentleman named Blood, who, from
comparative nothingness, had risen to a very enviable share
of respectable practice. It is true that he had climbed this
pinnacle upon the backs of the paupers, and by sundry similar
stepping-stones ; which system of progression having attained
for him a philanthropic character, at length drew down the
favours of the opulent. Thus heavily burdened with the
public kindness, no wonder that he began to groan beneath
the yoke, and very wisely concluded an assistant would be
requisite. With this assistant, rather than the great man
himself, our story has to deal ; and, without further preface,
I propose to introduce to the patience of the reader Mr.
Daniel Darius Damper. It is the misfortune of many men
engaged in medical pursuits, either by improvidence or un-
avoidable events, to be compelled to relinquish those studies,
even when the goal of consummation is in view. It was thus
with Mr. Daniel Darius Damper ; which mishap reduced him
to this subordinate grade in his profession. It is, therefore,
no matter of astonishment that, with an education incom-



26 MEMORIALS OF MEDICALS.



plete, he should be but feebly cognisant of some parts of that
peculiar knowledge essential to the education of a medical
man. But this mattered not to Mr. Damper. He relied, as
he expressed it, more upon nature's powers and the provi-
dence of God than on pills, potions, and plasters. Perhaps
he was right. But to our tale.

It so happened that after being installed about a week in
his new occupation, the head of the establishment was called
away, and in the hands of Mr. Damper were reposed the lives
and health of the community. This, in the abstract, appears
serious ; but in the philosophy of Mr. Damper nothing was
more frivolous, for his treatment of disease was founded not
on judgment, but on rules, the which he exercised with as
much precision as a schoolboy would the English grammar.
He despised exceptions, and could reconcile his conscience to
the greatest lapsus by this golden rule —

" I bleeds, I purges, and I sweats 'em ;
And if they die, why then— I lets 'em !"

And it was so. It cannot be denied that when looking over
his list of patients his dignity appeared in the ascendant, for
one glance assured him, from the importance of the cases,
that great confidence had been reposed in him ; but even
before he had seen them his mode of treatment was deter-
mined, and he chuckled at his own wit, whilst enumerating
each disease. Having cajoled himself with sundry little plea-
santries (certainly better enjoyed by himself than his patients),
he started off with an elastic step to visit them. As a similar
fate fell uniformly upon all, it will be unnecessary to describe
them : perhaps had there been fewer cases, less mortality
might have been the consequence. But no matter.

Night already began to draw near before Mr. Damper com-
pleted ; but, with the exception of one case, all were visited.
He looked hard at the paper, and, by strong orthographical
power, descried the word "Monomania ;" but what it meant
was a mania to him entirely. Somewhat puzzled, he knew
not how to act. He had prescribed for all the rest with a
celerity that delighted him ; as it was, he blew his nose, and
hesitated ; but as serious consideration was not a constituent
part of his nature, he determined at a hazard to call, and



MEMORIALS OF MEDICALS.



27



make the best of it. The residence of the gentleman afflicted
with this unhappy disorder was the most wealthy and magni-
ficent for many miles around. The proprietor, formerly a
man of considerable talent, had reaped a rich harvest by
railway speculations — attended, however, by a corresponding
loss of intellect, the unfortunate gentleman not being able to
stand corn. It was upon the one subject of railway transac-
tions his brain became inverted ; which unlucky summerset
could never afterwards be rectified. It had been occasioned
by the success, rather than the failure, of his projects ; and
in such cases the insanity is usually more aggravated than by
extreme misfortune. His flights upon the subject were,
therefore, more serial than dejected, and though sometimes
dangerous to others (as will be shown)^ were attended with
happier consequences to himself.

Mr. Damper, with an uncertain knowledge of what he was
going to do, at length drew up at the hall-door, and, with
the ring of a nobleman, or something doubly consequential,
announced his waiting for admittance. A silvered lacquey
answered the appeal, and, with the door swinging in his hand,
demanded his name. Mr. Damper, presenting his card, with
a little preliminary explanation, was forthwith ushered into
the apartment of the invalid. On entering, he could not
withstand being forcibly struck by the singular appearance of
the room. Everything exhibited the most confused disorder.
The large round table, evidently designed for the centre of
the room, was pushed into a corner, with one leg off — resem-
bling in appearance an idle target which had laid down to
rest itself; the sofa, instead of using four legs, was stuck up
on end on two, like a dog begging ; some of the chairs were
erect and others prostrate, as though a ravaging pestilence
had come upon them ; and every article of furniture bore an
equal deviation from the perpendicular. The only exception
to this irregularity was the man himself, who was dressed
with the most scrupulous neatness ; and Mr. Damper congra-
tulated himself on beholding this one piece of rationality.
The usual compliments having passed between them, Mr.
Damper accepted one of the fallen chairs presented to him,
and proceeded with the business forthwith.



MEMORIALS OF MEDICALS.



" I have the honour," said he, somewhat timidly, " to offi-
ciate for Mr. Blood during his brief absence. I sincerely hope,
sir, I may have the pleasure of reporting favourably of your
case on his return. "

" Sir ?" said the invalid.

Now, Mr. Damper had made a long speech, and did not
relish the idea of repeating it; he, therefore, concluded an
abridgement was necessary, and merely said, " I hope you are
better, sir."

" I never was ill yet," replied the invalid, " that I know of."

Mr. Damper's eyes evinced a slight shade of astonishment ;
but he was silent, and rapidly reflected on the possibility of
his having made a mistake ; but, quick as thought, he re-
turned to the charge.

i! If I mistake not, I believe myself in the presence of Mr.
Trainer, of Tranbury Hall."

" The same, sir," said the gentleman, coldly.

" I have instructions from my employer to call on you,"
rejoined Mr. Damper, " and to be diligent in my attendance.
I hope my poor services may be useful."

" I perceive, sir," said the invalid, as though a sudden
gleam of comprehension had come over him. " And when
did Mr. Blood leave home ?"

" This morning, by the railway," responded Mr. Damper.

This was quite enough ! Matters were now at a crisis. Mr.
Damper had touched upon the one cord which set in motion
all the springs of his insanity. That one word, u railway !"
did its business; and the apparently sane man became as
diametrically mad.

There was a slight pause.

" You will take wine ?" inquired the invalid, placing the
chairs upside down, and supporting their bottoms on the edge
of the inclined table, whilst the decanter and glasses slided
down the hill, and were only prevented from falling to the
ground by the broad rim which encircled the edge.

" With pleasure, sir," said Mr. Damper, rather confusedly,
at the same time placing himself on his somewhat equivocal
seat. " I prefer sherry."

The glasses were filled.



MEMORIALS OF MEDICALS. 29



w Pop !" said the gentleman.

" Sir?" said Mr. Damper.

" Pop !" repeated the other.

"Yes ; or ginger beer/' answered Mr. Damper.

" Bang !" vociferated the gentleman, sending his glass of
wine, with furious velocity^ through a square of glass, and
emitting his breath by fits and starts, like sudden gusts of
steam from an engine.

"Capital!" shouted Mr. Damper, thinking it a joke.
" X ever saw a better aim in all my life !"

" Phiz-z-z !" roared out the other, and up went the decanter
to the very ceiling, descending immediately on the floor, and
shivering into a thousand pieces ; the stopper, however, having
disentangled itself, came down with rather unceremonious
violence on the nose of Mr. Damper, causing that very re-
spectable feature to shed blood. At the same time, the
gentleman set up every hideous noise a railway engine is
capable of making. Mr. Damper thought this rather too
much — certainly more than was necessary to constitute a
joke; and at the same time he wondered with all his might
what the deuce the word '''monomania" meant.

a Time !" shouted out his patient again, springing upon
two chairs, and seizing the bell-rope, which he pulled with
all his might. " We're off !"

Mr. Damper inwardly made prayer that it might be so,

At the sound of the bell a footman appeared- at the door,
and Mr. Damper was astonished to see that no symptom of
amazement was visible on his face. Strange ! thought he ;
but I'll wait. But his patient resolutions were instantly dis-
concerted at the voice of the madman.

"Send in the mastiff!" shouted he, in a thunder-and-
lightning kind of tone. " I'll blast the interests of all man-
kind ! Send in the mastiff! Close the window-shuts without,
and bring in three dozen flambeaus ! — blazing ! — burning ! —
hot ! We must have signals," said he, more mildly, to Mr.
Damper. " You will pardon my neglige, for an engine of five
thousand horse power ; but I'll return immediately under the
very highest pressure !"

Mr. Damper groaned aloud, and vainly tried to assure the



30 MEMORIALS OF MEDICALS.



patient that he was convinced of his superior force without
any further proof, for he now perceived that he was stark,
staring mad, and doubted his capabilities of encountering
both him and the mastiff, whenever that superfluous visiter
should come ; but his eloquence had no effect. The madman
had not yet reached the height of his fit, but forthwith pro-
ceeded to open a door, which, Mr. Damper perceived, led
into an ante-room — a vestiary, having two steps below the
level of the room. On a sudden the place became dark — the
shutters were closed, and the lights had not yet made their
appearance ; but, much to his relief, the servant appeared in
a few minutes with an innumerable number of ignited candles,
which he placed in different parts of the room, and at varied
distances, yet all forming, as nearly as possible, two rows of
lights upon the floor, at either side. Mr. Damper felt grateful
for this attention, and could not forbear expressing his grati-
tude to the man in livery, but insinuated, at the same time,
that a less quantity might have served the purpose.

" Less would not do," answered the servant, peevishly.
"The journey absolutely requires them."
"What journey ?" asked Mr. Damper.
" I don't know," replied the servant.

Mr. Damper naturally thought it rather paradoxical, and
felt a little ruffled at being trifled with by a menial; but he
smothered his emotion, and politely said he had a favour to
beg.

" Name it !" said the other.

" That you will not bring in the mastiff," replied Mr.
Damper, anxiously.
" He must come."
" For why ?"

" He's the stoker," said the servant.

" The what ?" inquired Mr. Damper ; but the man, per-
ceiving the door of the ante-room getting ajar, abruptly
quitted the apartment.

" They're all mad alike 1" groaned Mr. Damper ; " stark,
staring mad, and God help me !" He had not long, however,
to tremble in suspense ; all the vast resources of his mind
were speedily summoned into requisition, for, at one and the



MEMORIALS OF MEDICALS.



31



same moment, the mastiff was shoved into the room and the
maniac entered from his tiring-place. With a desperate, and,
to do him justice, a manly effort, Mr. Damper prepared him-
self for action, as all chance of reconciliation he considered
futile. Even in the midst of horror, he could not suppress a
smile at the grotesque appearance of his patient. Upon his
head, rising about three quarters of a yard in the air, he wore
a metallic funnel, from which was contrived to emanate a
cloud of smoke ; his body was encased in card-board, made
to shine most brilliantly by means of black-lead, but too
cylindrical to have the appearance of armour ; around his
waist was a broad black belt, on which was inscribed, in huge
phosphoric letters, " BLAZER ;" — and on either side of his
knees was fixed a revolving wheel, which rattled round with
such a crackling velocity as to give the idea of his leg and
thigh bones snapping off by inches. Mr. Damper tucked
himself up closely by the wall, while the madman busily
yoked himself to a square table upon castors, and, having
wildly completed the arrangement, sung out in a stentorian
voice for the dog — "Stoker!" The animal immediately
leaped upon the table.

" Hecla ! Etna ! Vesuvius ! and furies !" roared the mad-
man; and away he went, like some mighty engine broken
loose, round the room, while the dog and he mingled their
howlings together. It was only by dint of excessive agility
that Mr. Damper could save himself from being smashed to
pieces ; slight contusions and abrasions he contentedly put
up with, and all he tried to guard against was concussion or
compression of the brain. There were yet lights in the room ;
but, alas ! even these were destined to be but of short
duration : by ones, twos, and threes, they were knocked over
and extinguished, and, as the shutters were closed, Mr.
Damper found himself in total darkness. To know which
way to turn, was impossible ; from one hiding-corner he
was chased on to another, receiving continued jams and
bruises from the flying table — not to mention similar misfor-
tunes brought on by himself with running his head and other
members against sharp projections and angles in the dark.
He tried the door, wondering very much he had never thought



32 MEMORIALS OF MEDICALS.



of that before ; but that too, was closed against him, being
so constructed as to lock itself when shut. He, therefore,
trusted to his ears, in order to regulate his movements by the
help of sound, hoping desperately that the maniac would at
last become exhausted. On a sudden, a tremendous smash,
as of glass, and a clashing of fire-irons, with a horrible fall
close by his side, roused him to a sudden leap from his
lurking-place.

"There goes a poker !" roared the madman.

" Mercy I" ejaculated Mr. Damper.

"There goes a carving-knife!" continued the other, in a
louder and fiercer voice.

" God help me !" cried Mr. Damper, as he felt a sharp cut
below his ear from which the blood was trickling.

" There goes a blunderbuss !" yelled the other, whilst a
thundering explosion shook the very house to its foundation,
and in a second after Mr. Damper felt the enormous weapon
whiz past, which, however, he this time luckily escaped.

Onward swept the table with increased velocity, and wilder
yelled the dog and madman, until poor Darius, sinking back
against the wall, quietly waited for the last sad smash. But
the blunderbuss had not been without its use — verifying the
old proverb that " good comes out of evil" — for by its light
he recognised the door of the room in which his adversary
had retired to dress himself. His first impression was to make
for it, and hide himself; but a second thought convinced him
that he should only be pent up in closer danger : he, there-
fore, with wonderful aptness of mind, groped his way towards
it, and threw the door wide open, and again, as adroitly as
he could, put himself on the defensive. Again the maniac
bellowed like a bursting engine, and again the dog (or stoker)
howled like a legion of wild Indians, when, after two or three
successive whirls about the room, bang went madman, dog,
and table, heads and heels together, down the steps into the
ante-room.

"Thank God!" cried Mr. Damper, in an ecstacy; and,
quick as lightning, he closed the door upon them, and securely
locked it.

" The devil has grabbed me at the terminus !" shouted the
madman.



MEMORIALS OF MEDICALS. 33



"Then the devil may loose you," echoed Mr. Damper,
" for 1*11 be d — d if I do !" And, pocketing the key, he made
for the drawing-room door, and with two or three stupendous
kicks shivered the panel to pieces, and escaped. He waited
not for any explanation, but, rushing past all the servants
aud domestics, never stopped his pace till he arrived at home,
and threw himself into a chair. " Small-pox, measles, or
influenza may be all very well," said he ; " but no more
monomania for me !"



3IR. PLUTO PLUMTREE.



It is a very amusing kind of gratification, when doomed to
confinement by disease or other causes, to review the scenes
and incidents of the past, especially if there be many green
spots in the wilderness of life which have illumined its pil-
grimage. On these we dwell, and are reconciled by the
reflection that, if we suffer, we have once enjoyed, and the
future is gilded with brighter hopes of ease and happiness.
Among the various scenes of bygone days, I shall not hesitate
to relate the following, and can vouch for the truth of it
(ahem !) from one wiiom I esteem it my greatest happiness to
be able to call my friend. In doing this, I trust the reader
is prepared to pardon my rude ideas of delicacy whilst I
unfold the secrets of the charnel-house, which I hope may
edify, without spreading the pestilence around.

There is, perhaps, no class of persons whose professional
avocations are so much fraught with peculiar interest as those
of the student in medicine ; the scenes he witnesses, and the



34



MEMORIALS OF MEDICALS.



Amongst such characters there is always a mutual good
feeling, so long as pedantry, or the assumption of superior
knowledge, is avoided, but when once practised a general
feeling of dislike is manifest. An individual of the name of
Mr. Pluto Plumtree unfortunately became a victim of this

description in the hospital of ; and may the lesson

taught him be a warning-light to others. It is true that
originally he had never entertained such exalted notions of
himself; but having received so many assurances of his exten-
sive capabilities either from hollow friends or over-zealous
patrons, no wonder that he at last became infected with the
mania, and resolved not only to excel in the ordinary princi-
ples of his profession, but, by one mighty master-stroke, to
discover in the human frame the very essence of life itself.
From a previous state of apathy, this resolution became the
one absorbing theme of his attention, and the achievement of
it the very idol of his soul. He aped the manners and writings
of the ancients ; spoke of himself and Aristotle, Paracelsus
and the immortal Harvey in the same breath ; read Franken-
stein, and, knowing it to be a fiction, advocated the possibi-
lity of its being realised. His manner became grave; his eyes
were continually bent upon the ground, as though disgusted
with the sight of ordinary objects; and his hair, which for-
merly obscured his eyes like long, dank water-flags, was
brushed behind his ears — no doubt in imitation of the Grecian
academicians. Thus rapidly and singularly metamorphosed,
he speedily became a wonder in the school, and drew forth
jeers and exclamations by no means complimentary ; but
these he disregarded with a sneer, and rather gloried in the
martyrdom of his position, which stimulated him to increased
exertion in the prosecution of his search. He returned home-
wards that day from the dissecting-room with sensations
scarcely to be considered mortal: so confident was he of a
successful issue, that his imagination became peopled with a
thousand vague absurdities — angels wreathing laurels on his
brow, nature paying homage at his feet, and women, men,
and children chaunting praises for his bestowal of perpetual
life upon the human race. Night came ; but his intensity of
rapture continued unabated; the hour of sleep was far



MEMORIALS OF MEDICALS. 35



advanced ; still he paced, with folded arms, the narrow
limits of his apartment ; and morning might have found him
burning with enthusiasm, had not his fellow-lodger bounced
into the room and talked of using force of a physical descrip-
tion if he did not moderate the violence of his soliloquies and
suffer him to sleep. Mr. Plumtree paused — reflected for a
moment — thought the matter reasonable, and apologised.
He went to bed, but not to sleep ; and the sun rose upon
him, unrefreshed and feverish with his night's excitement,
As a criminal is sometimes known to array himself in his best
attire on the morning of his execution, so Mr. Plumtree
adorned himself from the choicest of his wardrobe — not pre-
suming to enter on his solemn labour in a slovenly or unbe-
coming manner; and having crammed a green baize bag to
the very throat with divers knives and surgical instruments,
he commenced his journey to the scene of operation.

It was a sharp, cold December morning, and numerous
students were gathered round the fire of the dissecting-room,
talking over the frolic of the previous night — broken lamps,
dismembered knockers, " hair-breadth 'scapes," &amp;c. — whilst
the more industrious were silently dissecting their respective
parts, and occasionally joining in the conversation. All,
however, entered freely into discussion when the conduct of
Mr. Plumtree was introduced, and many were the laughable
surmises and speculations made upon it. Roars of laughter
on the subject were echoed through the room, enough to wake
the very dead before them, when Mr. Plumtree, armed with
his huge green bag, and several ponderous volumes tucked
beneath his arm, entered the apartment. His whole appear-
ance was solemn in the extreme, and a frozen hauteur icicled
his countenance on all around. Slowly, but with a firm step,
without any salutation to his colleagues, he approached a
table, whereon lay stretched the body of a subject brought in
fresh the previous day, and, calmly seating himself beside it,
waited with a show of patience the retirement of the last
student ; but this appeared a task much longer and more for-
midable than he anticipated, for such was the amusement
caused by the singularity of his conduct, that no one seemed
inclined to move, but pertinaciously waited in order to witness
his proceedings.



36



MEMORIALS OP MEDICALS.



" That's a splendid subject we got in yesterday," said a wag
with a cigar in his mouth.

" Beautiful !" rejoined another in moustaches ; " and I
mean to have a cut at it."

" I intend to take the head and neck," said a hang-dog-
looking fellow in a pilot coat.

" And I the arm and hand, in order to appreciate the
beauty of the ring finger," said a fop.

" And I the leg !"

"And I the trunk!"

"And I " But Mr. Plumtree here interposed, stating

that it was nseless to apportion the different parts, as he had
purchased the whole of the subject himself. This announce-
ment created a general dislike against him, which was suffi-
ciently manifest; but Mr. Plumtree still maintained the
gravity of his position. At length, irritated beyond endur-
ance, one more curious than the rest demanded what he was
going to do.

Mr. Plumtree, unloosing the strings of his green bag, and
arranging on the table a profusion of scalpels, saws, chisels,
knives, &amp;c, and opening one of his huge volumes, replied,
with a momentous emphasis, that he was going to search for
the essence of life.

" More likely the essence of tobacco," said the wag with
the cigar in his mouth.

" Or the essence of bears' grease," said the gentleman with
moustaches.

" Or the essence of tar," said the sailor-looking man.

" Perhaps of bergamot or lemon," added the fop ; "a plea-
sant fragrance in a dissecting-room — very !"

Gibes and taunts of this description were lavishly bestowed
upon him, until night drew on apace; but the silence of Mr.
Plumtree eliciting but little repartee, they one by one quitted
the apartment. When the last student left the room, and
darkness lay around, Mr. Plumtree trimmed his lamp, and
addressed himself to study.

There is, perhaps, no other place in which we feel so much
the nothingness of life as in the dissecting-room. In daylight
this effect is lost, or much diminished, by the hilarity of



MEMORIALS OF MEDICALS. 37



company ; bat when the solemnity of night and solitude is
there, it is indeed impressive. It was a bitter, cold, and
stormy night; the rain, in heavy torrents, beat furiously on
the skylight over him, and the piercing wind, as it shook the
windows in their frames, insinuated its cold breath into the
room. Around, on several oaken tables, lay the sad vestiges
of mortality, in their various stages of decomposition — some
mutilated, others undisturbed; their leaden features glared
unmeaningly in death, and the heavy limbs dangling like logs
by the sides of the table. There — alone in such a place — let
the pride of the purse-proud idiot nauseate, the conceited
shudder, and the monarch learn his lesson. There is no
school like this for humbling nature : no rich sarcophagus
emblazoning the virtues of the dead — no costly gravestone ;
but all in the loathsome garb of nakedness — in the noisome
hues of putrefaction — in the mass of black corruption ! What
is man ? The flickering lamp shed but a very feeble light —
making all around more hideous ; the floor was strewn with
sawdust, for the absorption of damp and moisture incident to
such places ; and shoals of stealthy rats crawled from their
lurking-place for plunder. Though Mr. Plumtree was un-
doubtedly a man of undisputed courage, he had never before
been left alone in a dissecting-room at night, nor had the
circumstance ever previously occurred to him ; as it was,
unconsciously almost he looked around, and shuddered.
" Pshaw !" said he ; and, encasing his head in a woollen cap,
and turning up his sleeves, he proceeded to arrange the corpse
in a suitable position for his purpose. Fastening the arms
and hands around the neck by means of an old piece of cord,
and elevating the abdomen by placing a block behind the
loins, he sat down by the side of the subject, and buried his
feet in a heap of sawdust underneath the table to keep them
warm. Thus the necessary preliminaries finished, he selected
one of his sharpest knives, and was about making his first
incision, when a gigantic rat leaped upon the table, crossed
the face of the dead man, and extinguished his light. All
was instant darkness. Mr. Plumtree changed countenance
(most likely !) for a moment : groping upon the floor to
regain his light, his hands came in contact with the clammy



38 MEMORIALS OF MEDICALS.



foot of the corpse ; he slightly shuddered, but, laughing
instantly at the folly of his own weakness, continued the
search ; it was soon accomplished, and, igniting a Lucifer,
he re-lit his lamp, rallied his courage, and again prepared for
study. For a moment he looked unconsciously upon the face
of the corpse : one eye was opened, although he could have
sworn that but a moment before they were both closed.
" Strange !" muttered he to himself; " but — pshaw !" And he
endeavoured to forget the circumstance ; yet many strange
traditions and superstitions crowded on him. He rose from
his stool, and walked towards the door to procure a little
brandy which he had secreted for himself in a small closet in
the lobby ; but it was locked outside, and, under any circum-
stances, he could not possibly leave the room. Stranger still !
thought he ; but — pshaw ! And, with a vigorous and manly
effort, he determined to persevere in his research. Armed
with this laudable determination, he again sat down. After
examining the blade of his scalpel, he commenced his first
incision by dividing the integuments from the neck down-
wards, and, reflecting back the fascia underneath them, the
beautiful layers of abdominal muscles, with their glistening
tendons, were exposed to view. One by one their fibres were
dissevered, and in like manner thrown back, when the nume-
rous viscera and sublime works of the Creator lay like hea-
venly machinery before him.

" Beautiful !" ejaculated Mr. Plumtree. u From this clay
shall come the resurrection of the secret which shall render it
immortal !"

However bright might have burnt this spark of enthusiasm
in Mr. Plumtree, it was evident that the lamp by no means
shared the sentiment, for, with a few equivocal flickers, it
began to wane very low, yet gradually. This was a bad omen,
and he felt it to be so ; but, drawing it closer to him, he pur-
sued his labours. From the numerous organs before him, he
selected the stomach for the first field of his research, and
clasping it in his left hand, and drawing the scalpel over it
with the other, the interior, with its rosy tints, lay spread
before him.

" Beautiful !" again cried Mr. Plumtree ; and the lamp at



MEMORIALS OF MEDICALS.



the same time flickered and burnt lower. He raised his eyes
to look at it, and at the same moment thought his knife felt
to grate harshly against some anomalous substance in the
stomach.

" Ah !" thought he, " I have it now !" And, bending his
head iow, by the aid of his uncertain light he discovered, to
his unutterable astonishment, a letter, directed to himself,
and emitting a ghastly light nnd sulphurous odour. A sudden
sensation of faintness and cold came over him, and he trem-
bled from head to foot. Again his eyes were fixed on it, and
shining letters showed the post-mark — u Pandemonium.' '
With a last faint effort, he ventured to unloose the seal, and
whilst consciousness still lingered in his brain he read the
following : —

My dear Sir — Permit ma to tender you my most grateful acknow-
ledgments for having opened my body, for 1 have not seen daylight
for
three weeks before; and I now enjoy the sensation of being cool and

comfortable. You cannot imagine the delight I felt as your delicate

blade divided my flesh, insomuch that I could not forbear opening
one
eye to look at you. I am told that you are searching for the
essence of
life : just look behind my liver, and you will find a pint bottle
of it. I
prefer it myself to the India Pale Ale. Please to make me decent by

four o'clock, as a demon is coming to sup with me. — Yours, &amp;c,
in life,
death, and eternity, The Corpse.

P.S. — Be careful how you put me together again, as I am rather
ticklish, and do not wish to disturb the gravity of my position by
laughing.

The letter fell from his hands — the lamp again flickered,
and went out ; and he fell backwards against the table. In
doing so, the cotton cord which bound the arm round the head
of the corpse gave way, and it fell heavily upon his shoulder,
round his neck, so as to embrace him. Sense and conscious-
ness forsook him, and he became inanimate — utterly unable
either to think, speak, or move. How long he would have
continued in this condition is uncertain, had not daylight
come ; and when the several students returned to their usual
occupations, he was discovered in the same position he had
lain all night.

The mystery is easily solved. The fact was, that, hearing
of his foolish intentions, the wag with the cigar in his mouth,
and three or four other congenial spirits, wrote the letter,



40 MEMORIALS OF MEDICALS.



rubbed it well with phosphorus, and forced it with a probang
down the oesophagus into the stomach ; whilst the eye was
opened by the legs of the rat which ran across the face of
the dead man.

Mr. Plumtree was removed, and, by proper applications
and restoratives, was shortly convalescent. But it had its
lesson. He became an altered and a better man; he was
cured of infidelity ; having learned that there is a barrier
betwixt the wisdom of God and man which no stretch of
ingenuitv can sever.



THE LADIES' CLUB



OK,



FROLICS OF THE FAIRIES.



THE SONG OF THE PILLAR.



Oh, list to the lay of a desolate pillar —

I will not offend either humble or proud ;
For, alas ! I'm a foundling and cannot tell whether

I sprung from the earth or fell down from a cloud.

I am here, by the corner, in fashion Ionic ;

I'm fluted, and rooted, and crowned, it is true ;
And yet I can't tell, though I look so Platonic,

What on earth or in air I'm expected to do.

I look with a sigh on those pillars so jolly

That rise in good-fellowship opposite me ;
They support the " Assembly," and laugh at the folly

Of planting me here in the place of a tree.

I bear with the jests and the jeers of the people;

Some deem me a classic, and others more stolid ;
Some think I'm a mile-stone, and others a steeple,.

And tap me to try if I'm empty or solid.

I grow pale with rage when a twenty-stone fellow
Leans himself by my side, and I can't slip the sod ;

And I try to reel backwards, as if I were mellow,
And yet the policeman won't take me to " quod."

I'm a wonder to look at, but just feel as wise
As a tombstone without an inscription, 'tis true ;

And I blush'd as a donkey-boy gaz'd in surprise
When I could not e'en tell him which way the wind blew.

I want a commission ! Oh, ladies ! dear ladies !

In vain I've appeal'd to the feelings of man ;
But the heart of a lady of tenderness made is : —

Oh, think of my case, and relieve, if you can !

Will you carve me a Venus— the type of your beauty ?

Your own representative faithful I'll be !
I've the spirit of Mars, and no need of the duty

Of singing the virtues of coffee and tea.

For our congou so neat is, our sugar so sweet is; *
Our rushlights e'en fit for a Catholic altar ;

Our moulds are young suns, and our treacle a treat is ;
And pickles and starch from the best never alter.

Then, ladies, look over your pretty Pantheon —

Some goddess devise, or in silence I rot;
And I only can hope that the Catholic people

Will blow me to shreds by a gunpowder plot.

Like a true Grecian hero, no longer I'll dread,
But with all my tormentors and enemies battle ;

I'll put myself up at three farthings a-head,
And be borne off triumphantly, won at a raffle.

But enough for the present — I've done with my railings ;

There's a black-looking fellow, I very much dread,
Has quietly propp'd himself up by the palings,

And noted down every word that I've said.



THE LADIES' CLUB;

OR,

FROLICS OF THE FAIRIES.



NIGHT FIRST.

Can such things be ?— Axox.
There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,
Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.— Hamlet.

It was a sweet and lovely night. Sad and disconsolate, we
were perambulating the deserted village, seeking in solitude
some remuneration for the cares of the day. Along the shore
the stillness of the desert was not greater : the boats lay
drowsily slumbering, as it were, in the soft moonlight, and
the water afar off broke not the silence even by a ripple.
Beautiful was the aspect, yet the charms of nature sank
beneath the charms of sleep; and, with an almost uncon-
scious yawn, we began to retrace our footsteps to our domi-
ciles. Though all was so still — not even a single footstep
rattling on the pavement — we became half sensible of a gen-
tler movement, as of etherial beings, or the winging of those
viewless spirits which are sometimes thought to touch upon
our earth for purposes known only to themselves. Were we
in a dream ? — or had the fumes of the last cfcar so bewildered



44 THE LADIES' CLUB,



us that our eyes seemed not to look on objects as they were?
We could have sworn that but an hour ago the Billiard-rooms
were in the east, the Ionic Pillar in the west, the trees of
Upper Willow Cottage in the north, and the mansion of Mr.
Docker in the south ; but now (strange metamorphosis !) the
four angles seemed to have lost their sharpness, and all com-
mingled in a circle, forming a beautiful admixture of trees
and flowers, palisades and pillars, delightfully interspersed
with rich exotics from the neighbouring conservatories. There
was a genial warmth in the air, so sweet and balmy that our
spirits rose as we inhaled it ; soft music, too, came floating
on the atmosphere, as of angels sighing, which we ventured
to presume might be the echo of some far-off wave ; but when
sweet strains of many voices chaunting the following lines
ravished our poor ears, we concluded that it could not come
from donkeys, and gave ourselves up for lost : —

Ye spirits of air, ye spirits of night,

Speed to the Pillar by soft moonlight !

From the drawing-room drawl and the day set free,

We're out— and, by Juno, we'll all have a spree !

"We'll tickle the noses of all we meet

With beams of the moon as they walk the street ;

And when the carouser going home shall sneeze,

We'll dance to the music and sing to the breeze.

Then, away with the day and its pitiful fuss !

A night on the lark and the Pillar for us !

Were we in Southport ? — were we mad ? — were questions
which simultaneously rose in our minds. We looked anxiously
at the moon, but it was not at full. We half feared, and,
like Macbeth, " our eyes became the fools of all the other
senses." We would have proceeded further for some proof of
our identity, but our feet seemed fastened to the spot, and,
thus enchanted, we beheld a scene the revelation of which can
only emanate from ourselves. From unseen habitations the
fluttering of wings became more audible, and presently, like
doves, there alighted in the centre of the circle twelve lovely
visions, beautiful indeed to look upon. We could not for a
moment suppose them of our earth, so soft and silken were
their pinions, and so elastic all their limbs; we, therefore,
concluded it some heavenly pic-nic feast, there being such a



THE ladies' club. 45



quantity of legs and wings. As far as the eye could reach,
unnumbered smaller visions thronged about, like the agents
of the twelve superior ones, and seemed to execute their
wishes. Our ideas reverted for a time to the " Midsummer
Night's Dream," particularly when a being of robust appear-
ance stood before us, resembling in every particular the human
race, except the head, which was a donkey's— a feature hap-
pily not peculiar to our kind ; yet about this head there
seemed a degree of wisdom and of shrewdness unenjoyed,
perhaps, by many men, for the ears rose and fell in indication
of its thoughts ; and in that rise and fall the spirits seemed to
share more anxiously than merchants even in the rise and fall
of cotton, wheat, or guano. "\Yhat it was we knew not, but
we think a satyr modernised — for of old they had heads armed
with horns, and goats' feet and legs, crooked hands, rough,
hairy bodies, and tails not much shorter than horses; but
here it seemed reversed — the head alone differed from the
human ; but as the fairies or nymphs were wont to consult
those animals upon momentous subjects in ancient times, we
thought that one upon an improved construction had been
made for these. Though the spirits partook so little of our
earth, we could not divest ourselves of the idea that we
had seen them somewhere in a more corporeal shape ; we
thought them, too, inhabitants of our village ; but such was
the profusion of glory round them that it was impossible to
arrive at any certainty. We, therefore, hastened with all due
speed to the box of Mr. Csesar Lawson, to procure his ini-
mitable telescope ; but, although the tombstones in the burial-
yard of Lytham may be distinctly read through it from the
Promenade, it was useless on the present occasion. Being
now a little more familiarised to the scene, our next inquiry
was directed to the cause for such a meeting — for certainly it
was not foretold in Murphy's Almanack ; and we stood, like
the Jews of old, half doubting, half believing. But what was
our astonishment when, with a clattering noise, the demi-
donkey shook its ears, and afterwards erected them with a
dignity that would have graced an alderman. It had evi-
dently been pondering some weighty business, and the erec-
tion of its ears seemed to indicate that it had come to a



46 THE LADIES' CLUB.



decision, for the sweet eyes of the fairy ladies were one and all
directed towards it ; and thus it spake : —

" Spirits of earth and air ! you have wrong's to bear which
call for immediate redress." [Here the donkey sneezed (it
never brayed), on which one of the ladies nipped its nose to
prevent the repetition, causing the animal to speak with a
more nasal intonation ; and the indentation thus made remains
to this day.] " Long and patiently you have borne the perse-
cutions of the sex ! Your husbands leave you for out-door
enjoyments ! Do they not ?"

" They do ! — they do I" shouted the married part of the
community, and some, we thought, shed tears.

" Your lovers grow frigid and independent ! Do they not V*

"Complete snow-balls and icicles!" cried the virgin por-
tion ; and their revengeful eyes flashed like wildfire.

u You want a representative — a champion !" continued the
speaker, in a clear, calm, and determined tone of voice.

" We do ! — we do !" shouted all together.

" And who shall that mighty champion be V cried the
demi-donkey.

" The Pillar !" echoed all unanimously, and shouts of
triumph rent the very air. Shoals of flowers were instantly
showered upon it, and garlands of roses (white and red) wove
round its circumference ; whilst the ladies, like beautiful
gazelles, danced round it. We have seen this Pillar in many
different phases. In the cold, wintry days, it has slightly
oscillated to and fro, as if to lull itself into oblivion of its
injuries ; in finer days we have fancied it heart-broken in its
loneliness ; but now its stony aspect was changed — the foun-
tains of its heart were opened, and it wept for joy. It would
have made a speech, but utterance failed it ; and it stood an
emblem of silent gratitude. Happy Pillar ! far too good for
any earthly use, the gods have claimed thee. Would we were
like thee ! — for " man that is born of a woman hath but a
short time to live ;" but thou, the child of the elements, wilt
endure for ever. In future thou wilt represent the ladies of
our village ; and many happy meetings may they have, and
find all their ends accomplished ! But we are wandering
from our business.



THE LADIES' CLUB. 47



Alas, that such a dark cloud should cross that gay assem-
blage ! Suddenly the Pillar gave a start, as if about to leap
from its foundation ; a shriek at the same time escaped from
the ladies, and they gathered round to protect it.

" What's the matter V* roared the demi-donkey, with a
sneeze (it never brayed).

" There's that black-looking fellow at the palings !" cried
the Pillar.

The fairies fled — the scene dissolved — the donkey galloped
off towards Coronation Walk • and we stood alone in our
loneliness.
********

Confound the cigars ! — 'how strong they were ! We had
actually fallen asleep on our way home.



NIGHT SECOND.

Deeply interested in our visions of the preceding night, we
determined, at all risks to our constitution, to smoke the same
quantity of cigars, and quietly await the visitation of the
fairies. With this determination, we experienced the soporific
influence of the weed, and, tucking our heads up in a com-
fortable corner to avoid the aggressions of draughts and
policemen, we again beheld the circle of enchantment. It
was lovely as ever ; and what heightened the charm was, that
we could distinctly trace the features we have so often admired
in sober daylight ; the same laughing eyes and pleasing coun-
tenances, which by skilful physicians are considered more
salubrious than physic and sea-bathing ; and it is doubtless
from this circumstance that the fame of Southport is so far
extended. But pardon the digression.

At the rearing up of the demi-donkey's ears (whom we
thought had grown more portly since we last saw him), the
multitude of spirits gathered round the Pillar, easily reclining
themselves on beds of roses and sweet flowers; canopying
themselves, at the same time, with zephyr scarfs of beautiful



48 THE LADIES' CLXJB.



wave-like blue. We then heard their sweet voices again ;
and we believe the following to be the burthen of the music :

Spirits ! again the day hath flown,

And the drones of earth to their beds have gone ;

But here in the playful moonbeams clear

She winks — and her satellites round appear.

Drink deep of the nectar distill'd from the dew

That reposes on flow'rets of exquisite hue,

And smoke from the incense the sylph only breathes

From the buds that are op'ning with petals and leaves.

Thus, drinking and smoking, let night pass away,

And we'll revel in mirth till the dawn of the day !

We felt rather inclined to the belief that this had a smat-
tering of dissipation about it, for we thought of porter, pipes,
&amp;c. ; but the vulgar simile vanished in an instant. We then
heard the demi-donkey sneeze (it never brayed), and imme-
diately a thousand little cherubs winged their way around the
spirits, bearing goblets like to chalices, which, we presume,
contained, the Olympic drink alluded to ; they also handed
round the stems of roses, and each fairy inserting one between
her ruby lips, the Pillar was instantly lost in smoke, and the
sparks became so vivid that the stoutest fire-engine would
have shrunk back in amazement.

A beautiful spirit, elevated somewhat higher than the rest
on a greater profusion of flowers, and who, from the wisdom
of her countenance, we thought must have descended from
Minerva, arose to address the bacchanalians. She wished to
bring before her heavenly chums the propriety of placing a
presiding goddess on the everlasting Pillar, and waited a
reply in order to determine what goddess it should be.

"Venus! Venus !" warbled the enthusiastic choir, and the
little cherubs chimed in with the response.

A being fairer than imagination can depict immediately
descended with a noiseless hop upon the Pillar, and our fears
of tea chests, Chinese mandarins, and steaming tea kettles
vanished ; whilst the chariot of glory which bore her to the
earth vanished into clouds, and was lost. Oh, how beautiful
was this part of our dream ! We forgot that we had aches
and pains, and could we have been seen, no doubt we should
have seemed convulsed in our puny efforts to fly, as if our



THE LADIES' CLUB. 49



poor clay inherited the snowy wings of the fairies. The cups
again went round, fresh clouds of smoke enveloped the Pillar,
and we thought we never saw it look more dignified and
noble — for it had now a commission !

The fairy president resumed the business of the evening.
She would be brief, and to the point. Tbey had met there to
combine business with pleasure. The clubs of gentlemen
were the ruin of their families ; it was their eternal cry when-
ever they were wanted that " they were going to the club : w
their ladies were neglected and injured ; but the club of the
ladies should be their revenge, (Hear, hear.) They (the
gentlemen) were always out, expecting that they (the ladies)
should be always in ; but no— they would be out as well, and
meet them with their own weapons. (Cheering. The demi-
donkey sneezed (it never brayed). She thanked her stars
that no Caudle propensities could be ascribed to her. For
hours together she had been left to bite her nails and stamp
her little foot in watchfulness (cries of " Shame ") ; but this
she knew — she would bite her nails no more, but hold them
in requisition. (Great applause.) She had not done this
until driven to desperation ; in proof of which she would just
particularise the conduct of her lord. True, she had pur-
loined from his pockets whatever cash or valuables she had
met with ; but what of that? (" Ay, what?") He had
actually seized her workbox in a fit of inebriety, ran off with
it, and — [here the speaker raised her eyes pathetically to the
Pillar] — what had he done with it?

" Hidden it !" said little fairy Bluebell.

" Destroyed it !" cried pretty little Zephyr.

" Sold it !" answered Dewdrop.

" Made it a tobacco-box !" replied Gazelle.

" No !" exclaimed the infuriated president. She could have
borne with all these ; but, to the everlasting disgrace of his
family, he had raffled it at the degrading rate of goblets
circular, or, in earthly language, "glasses round !" (Groans
and hisses, in which the donkey tried to join, but merely
sneezed (it never brayed). It was not the value of the box
she grieved for, but the articles which it contained. There
were therein deposited a magic pair of tweezers, which had



50 THE LADIES' CLUB.



long kept at bay a pair of threatening moustaches (hear) ; a
beautiful stiletto which she generally secreted when taking
exercise on donkeys (hear, hear) ; a new and peculiar kind of
needle, manufactured from the Needles at the Isle of Wight
(hear) • a bobbin, made from the wooden leg of the Marquis
of Anglesea (hear) ; and a lock of hair, which had the pro-
perty of raising her husband's jealousy as occasion required
(hear, hear) ; a piece of snowy white wax, deposited by white
bees — the insects having belonged to a bleacher; knots of
tape, manufactured by herself when tying her dress strings in
a hurry ; and billet-doux incalculable. All these and more
he had liquidated in the carousals of his club, and she knew
not into whose hands they might have fallen — perhaps Peter
the Bellman's. (Loud and reiterated shrieks of indignation.
Clouds of smoke curled up in the air, and at the same time
fresh goblets of nectar were called for.) She therefore pro-
posed that neither the rules of propriety or sobriety should
keep them (the ladies) at home. (Immense applause.) Their
club was established, and they would meet each night, and
emulate their husband's dissipation. (Loud cheering.) " JN T un-
quam Dormio " was their motto. (Hear.) Let the houses
look to themselves, and the children too. What if the mea-
sles did carry off three or four ? Children were ever plentiful.
(Cries of " Any quantity !") She need not speak of the
increase of population ; their vile fathers would never miss
them ; and why should they ? (Hear, hear.) She felt con-
vinced that no good would ever be accomplished until the
two clubs clashed together, when one or other, or both, must
fall. (Loud and tremendous cheering.) Peace must arise
from strife (hear, hear) -, and, with every powerful feeling of
her heart, she pledged, in bumping goblets, the speedy realisa-
tion of riots, rows, and dissipation. (Thundering shouts of
joy, at which even the Pillar trembled; three successive
sneezes escaped the donkey (it never brayed) ; and the fairies
quaffed the nectar in a kind of maddening joy— a sentiment
of an entirely new description.)

Another beauteous spirit, with eyes more soft than the
gazelle — whose very darkness shone in radiant light, yet
playful and expressive — a being of our village whom we often



THE LADIES' CLUE. 51



view in our solitary rambles, yet view but to admire — rose to
lament that if the lords of matrimony were remiss in their
attentions, the aspirants to marriage were more so still.
(Powerful anxiety amongst the junior part of the assemblage.)
She would not attempt to deny that so many locks of hair
had been presented to her that her lover wore a wig in conse-
quence. (Cries of " What of that V) True, the caps of his
knees were worn away with kneeling ; but what had he to do
with caps ? (" What, indeed ?") She only wished to hold
him in the strings. (Cheers.) She would not disguise the
fact that he had sworn to die for her ; but he had never tried
it — which was a glaring proof of his inconstancy. She would
confess that the kiss was not sufficiently fervent, nor the
embrace sufficiently impressive. (" Nothing like it !") She
liked things to be done properly. (Hear, hear.) Like the
bee, he sipped too much from flower to flower, when all the
honey should be sipped from her, and wormwood from the
others. (Cries of " Gall — actual gall !") When last they
parted for the night, the tears he shed were only fifty ; she
would not scruple to say a dram was more his quantity, She
therefore proposed a change in woman's heart — the death of
its fidelity, and the birth of its inconstancy. (Loud cheers.)
She was proud to declare that there were queen bees as well
as male bees ; and they too would taste of the delights which
variety appeared to yield their lovers (loud and deafening
cheers) ; and she solicited that every single lady should report
the progress of this experiment at the next convention of the
club. (Again the donkey sneezed (it never brayed), again
the cherubs chimed melodiously, and the Pillar smiled in
triumph, whilst the virgin speaker fell upon her bed of roses,
exhausted with enthusiasm.)

The third and last orator was very like Diana, her symme-
trical figure being accoutred in a riding-habit ; one, too, whom
it is our pride and boast to call a resident amongst us. She
rose to be informed when the first actual scene of dissipation
would commence, and the opening volley of rebellion be fired
upon their adversaries.

The excited president at once determined that the next
meeting of the club should signalise their initiation into



52 THE ladies' club.



crime, and the Pillar, in the meantime, as their champion,
represent their injuries to the world.

" Hip ! hip ! hurrah !" from all the fairies, the cherubim,
and demi-donkey simultaneously; and the highly-gifted lady
sad down amid loud and continued cheering.

The ears of the modern satyr once more rattled, when every
lady sprang up in an ecstacy of frolic and humour, and.,
joining hands, they sung and danced round the Ionic Pillar
to the following chorus : —

In the flowers of the garden we were born;
To the butterfly breed we all are sworn ;

Rake away I
And our noble parents, as we've heard say,
Were wild Don Juans of capers gay.

CHORUS.

What tricks so jolly we all will play —
What tricks so jolly we all will play !

Rake away !

" The Battle of the Clubs " was then drunk with three
enthusiastic cheers. " Death or victory !" — " Rows and riots 1"
followed, together with the pledge " To Venus !" and the
universal reel wound up the meeting.

A sudden silence fell upon the fairies, and we marvelled
much at such a change, when one of them pointed to the
heavens, and pointed to a faint streak of daylight gleaming
in the east. The fluttering of wings became general ; the
beautiful spirit spread her pinions, and flew from the top of
the Pillar, all the rest following on clouds of brightness to
their viewless homes ; whilst the donkey galloped off towards
Coronation Walk. Our senses were wrapt in this heavenly
spectacle, when a voice of a more substantial character
grated on our ears.

" Get up !" cried a policeman.

Confound these fellows ! — how hard they hit !

"Ay!" said my friend. "They judge of the texture of
our heads by their own."



THE LADIES' CLUB.



53



NIGHT THIRD.



So intense was our anxiety to watch the transactions of the
club, after what we witnessed last week, that, fearing the
sedative influence of cigars might not be sufficient, we thereto
added a powerful narcotic ; the combined action of which
lulled our senses into forgetfulness, and the earth, with its
stale and wearied objects, faded into shadows; sleep — sweet,
warm, and gentle — weighed upon our eyelids, and we dreamt.
It was a glorious dream too — the most interesting we ever
enjoyed. We rejoiced to see the fairies had been resolute, for
in the flowery circle we beheld them in dashing, lively vest-
ments, of almost every hue, as if they had slided down a
rainbow to the earth, and taken up its colours. We had at
first some little trouble to discern them clearly, for they were
smoking like celestial chimneys (if there are such), with this
distinction, that the smoke was white as lilies and smelled as
sweet, and curled up in graceful volumes in beautiful relief
to the happy, warm, and soft blue sky above them. There was
also such a vast degree of elasticity about them that the
ground they trod appeared to us composed of Indian rubber,
and such a wicked wink and slyness in every eye, accompa-
nied by a careless, off-hand kind of whistle, that, though
we are naturally dull, we could easily perceive mischief was
in the moon and revelry in perspective. It appeared to us
that all the trees in the village had crowded closer together
round the circle to view the spectacle, leaving but very small
spaces between them ; yet in these spaces and behind the trees
we beheld the anxious countenances of many men, indicative
of rage and disappointment. We thought they might be
modern fauns attendant on the demi-donkey, for they were
crowned with branches of the pine, and when any drunken
persons passed they stupified them with their looks alone;
but our dream convinced us that they were only the features
of the exasperated lords in secret watch upon the ladies.
The demi-donkey reared up its ears and clattered them as



54 THE ladies' club.



usual, and the carousal instantly commenced. With the
health of the eternal goddess on the Pillar the first round of
goblets was quaffed, and the following chorus immediately
followed : —

Hurrah for the club— the Ladies' Club !

Away with peace and quiet !
"Whilst nectar fills the Olympic bowl,

Revel, drink, and riot.
Till heart and brain with rapture thrill,
Deeper, deeper, deeper still !

Hurrah for a toast ! The grand divorce

From husband, family,
Severs the bond. Away, remorse !

Drink deep to jollity.
Till heart and brain with rapture thrill,
Deeper, deeper, deeper still !

We love no child ; we hate the hearth

Forsaken, cold, and drear.
Drink deep the pledge — connubial wrath,

The mad and bitter tear.
Till heart and brain with rapture thrill,
Deeper, deeper, deeper still!

Well, we could not have believed it if we had not heard it ;
but it was so : and even in that ecstatic dream, where all was
bright and beautiful, we thought our eyes felt moist, and in
all this hilarity we traced many bitter feelings, for the last
ray of love seemed to linger on their lords. Still quicker
passed the bowl and wilder grew the revel, and every fairy
boasted of her exploits in reckless levity.

The lady president arose in dashing colours, and, waving
her goblet to the goddess on the Pillar, proposed that fairy
Bluebell should regale them with a song.

Bluebell then arose, and suffered the following to defile her
lips : —

SONG.

May the bed of the husband refuse him its rest,
And his child never sleep in the hours of the night ;

May his nightcap bring dreams of the poor and distress'd,
And his pillow be Caudled from darkness to light ;

May a bailiff sit down in his soft easy chair,
And his servant appear in the form of a dun ;



THE ladies' club. 55



May the kiss that was once sweet bring only despair,

And the bets at his club by another be won ;
May his child never finish its cutting of teeth.

And in cobwebs and dirt may he sit like a spider ;
May the buttons fall off from his wristbands beneath,

And the rents of his garment grow wider and wider ;
May all the French polish come off from the chairs,

And the furniture rot till he goes to the Bench.
So drink to the bankrupt, his losses and cares,

And death to the lady who dares to retrench.

Loud shouts of applause followed this effusion, and so vio-
lent were the thumps made upon the board that every goblet
was smashed to pieces ; but this was of no consequence ; fresh
ones, of twice the value, were called for, and the revel again
grew wilder and wilder.

Gazelle next arose, somewhat the worse for nectar, and,
with two or three preliminary hiccups, avowed her intention
of givirjg a toast. (Hear, hear.) Might the lovers of ladies
freeze in their own coolness (hiccup), and the husbands of
wives melt in their own passions. (Two hiccups, and loud
shouts of applause from all the fairies, with a sneeze from the
demi-donkey (it never brayed). With her last life-drop she
would stand up for the club. (Here Gazelle fell down in
most unfairy-like condition on her seat of roses, calling
loudly for more nectar, which was handed to her by the
cherubim, as also a pail of ginger and cowslip wine for the
demi-donkey.)

Order was called for, but disputed. " Rows and riots"
was drunk in flowing bumpers, with three times three, and
the pledge was verified in most confused disorder, until
Zephyr rose, with a most serious face, and apologised for the
liberty she was about to take ; but if it would not be deroga-
tory to the dignity of the semi-animal, would the demi-
donkey favour them with a song ?

Loud and long-continued shouts and thumps of applause
supported the startling proposition, and though the modern
satyr seldom did anything but sneeze, on this particular
occasion it was seen to erect its ears and relieve itself in the
following verses ; and, oh ! in the chronicles of Southport
may they evermore be written : —



56 THE LADIES' CLUB.



SONG OF THE DEMI-DONKEY.

I'm a jolly old donkey, as all of you see —
The father of Albert and such like as he ;
My schooling was good, and I lived at my ease ;
I forgot how to bray, and did nothing but sneeze.

Tchsha! (sneeze.)

I was scarcely a donkey, and yet not a mule,
And, as I became wise, was too good for a fool ;
To trace my descent ev'ry one I could baffle ;
And so all agreed I was won at a raffle.

Tchsha !

As wiser, and wiser, and wiser I grew,
I'd no use of four legs, so I stood upon two ;
And when in my head human reason began,
They changed from a jackass to those of a man.

Tchsha !

But my head yet remains for the fairies to watch it ;
It itches just now — oh ! I wish they would scratch it.
Dear ladies, believe me, my story is true —
I'm a thousand years old, and was made but for you.

Tchsha !

My friends were all fickle, but I am more true ;
When I've serv'd you, I've but one commission to do ;
In short, I'm His Highness— a mischief distiller,
And have just come to earth to fly back with the Pillar.

Tchsha !

The shrillness of the applause which followed this song
would have drowned a combination of a thousand railway
whistles ; the fairies not only quaffed their nectar, but threw
their goblets up in the air, but fortunately they were caught
by the cherubs who winged above them, who, again reple-
nishing the same, returned them to the reeling bacchanalians.
The demi-donkey sneezed violently, and the fairies thronged
around it to support its sides, which exhibited strong symp-
toms of rupturing ; it then settled and sat down upon a wine
cask.

Snowdrop next leaped upon the table, and offered a wager
that she had done the noblest deed of any since their last
convention. Her lord (poor dolt !) had the actual effrontery



THE LADIES' CLUB.



57



to take her monkey-coat, declaring he would keep her from
the club; but she was proud to say that she turned upon
the ape and vindicated the honour of the association. She
seized a document from his desk which in two days more
would have made him lord of an estate, and burnt it to his
very face. (Thunders of applause.) She need not remind
them that where there was a will there was a way ; and he
was now a ruined man. (Symptoms of pity shown by the
fairies.) The poor father (it was a capital joke ! — very capital,
indeed!) had gone mad and distracted. (Ah, Snowdrop, we
saw a tear in your eye.) But what cared she ? — she was
neglected. Oh, how she once loved him ! (Snowdrop,, you
were melting.) But now he was nothing to her — nothing!
(Serious countenances, accompanied by sighs.) The bright
dream of happiness was past, and now she hated him. (Tears.)
Oh, what is life ! (said Snowdrop, growing sentimental,)
when the love of woman, fostered in the affections of the
angels, is degraded by the sinfulness and base practices of
man ! (Although the resemblance of levity was simulated by
the fairies, we still beheld some agonising tears trickle down
their cheeks.) Oh ! for a gleam (continued Snowdrop) of
that happy time when in the future all was dreamlike and full
of brightness ! (Poor Snowdrop.) Oh ! could that gem
which she had sought from all earth's jewellery forsake her
now ! (The fairies wept ; their injuries seemed to madden
them.) Did not all of them whose hearts once thrilled in
rapture to the idol praise it even yet ? (Showers of tears.)
But, alas, the curse ! With love still burning in their hearts,
their souls had frozen ; ay, even in their very breasts the
milk of kindness had become dried up. (Poor Snowdrop !
She sat down weeping, and though the show of hilarity had
been so great, a tear from the goddess of the Pillar blessed
the wretched earth beneath her, and the fountains of that
deep affection nurtured in the heart of woman gushed forth
in bitter, yet relieving streams. In our dream we thought
our manliness passed from us, and we wept ; for, though we
are careless and thoughtless, we have hearts of feeling.)

Zephyr arose, with dewy eyes, and fondly spoke of one
whom she had now discarded. She hated sentiment (and so



58 THE ladies' club.



do we) ; but we could not banish the remembrance of him
she had vilified. (Here she drew from her breast a lock of
hair, and kissed it. Sweet little Zephyr!) With all his
faults and instability, the heart round which her own was
woven could not be unentwined. The imperfections of the
man should be compensated by the constancy of the woman.
(Showers of happy tears.) She loved him still, and should
do so.

The demi-donkey sneezed (it never brayed), and, with a
strenuous effort, tried to call them back again to vice ; but
no ! — poor Zephyr still shed tears ; and in the whirl of dissipa-
tion, lingering love, and threatening madness, the fairies
seemed to us to love their reason. Suddenly a mighty rush
of a legion of exasperated spirits from behind the trees
boomed upon our ears, and the next moment we beheld in •
our dream the lords and lover3 of the ladies kneeling at their
feet. Oh, woman ! how the righteous tears which, like the
crystal drops from fonts of holiness, had flowed from those
neglected orbs, brought back the sense of duty and of love
into the hearts of men ! We saw them kneeling at their feet,
and praying with fervency for the return of that inestimable
pearl which they had thrown away ; but no ! — the goddess of
the Pillar descended on the earth, and, spreading her pro-
tecting pinions, forbade the approach to those virtues they
desecrated and abandoned — deeply injured, tormented, and
neglected; those virtues still survived, and it was not without
the tears of penitence in man that they could ever be restored.
The fairies wept. Forgive the weakness of our sex, but the
suppliants wept as well ; the knowledge of their mutual value
was discovered ; and whilst tears hot and burning gushed
upon the earth, the goddess dropped her wings and suffered
them to meet. Oh, how sweet was the embrace ! Thoughts
bright and sweet of bygone days came back, and all the cold,
harsh, bitter feelings which had taken root in anger sprung
up, like a tree of heaven, into rapturous love and gladness.
The goddess of the Pillar wept, but, wiping from her eyes
the tears of sadness, flew back upon her throne, and seeing
locked in happiest embrace both husband and wife, the loved
one and the lover, she spread her pinions and winged her



THE ladies' club. 59



flight into eternal glory, whilst the donkey galloped off
towards Coronation Walk (may it stop there) ; and we
awoke.

It was positively past breakfast-time ; the wife, linked in
the arm of the husband, was gaily smiling past us for the
Promenade, and young and happy couples were chattering of
wedlock ; nurses were walking smiling children to the shore ;
and all was cheerfulness and bustle.

"We slunk away home and washed ourselves, feeling then
refreshed, yet sorrowful ; for, though we participated in the
successful issue of the Ladies' Club, we knew that, like injured
spirits, they were reconciled, and we should no more see
them ; and to them, as well as to the readers of this narra-
tive, we bid farewell.



MUSHROOM COTTAGE



A VILLAGE TALE.



MUSHROOM COTTAGE.

A VILLAGE TALE.



CHAPTER THE FIRST.

Alas ! how light a cause will move
Dissension between hearts that love —
Hearts that the world in vain had tried,
And sorrow but more closely tied —
That stood the storm when waves were rough,
Yet in a sunny hour fall off;
Like ships that have gone down at sea
When heaven was all tranquillity.
* * * * * *

A word is ringing through my brain ;

It was not meant to give me pain ;

It was when first the sound I heard

A lightly-utter'd, careless word.

Oh ! would to God I ne'er had heard

That lightly-utter'd, careless word.— Moore.

Is there anything more delightful than the contemplation of
a pretty village at the close of a summer's day ? The sun
was just setting in a flood of glory, casting his crimson shades
o'er hill and dale, whilst the slanting beams still lingered on
the church and cottages of a beautiful hamlet near the sea.
The labour of the day was done, and a sweet serenity, as of
contentment, spread its holiness around ; whilst the shadowy



64 MUSHROOM COTTAGE.



trees, in richest verdure, appeared to whisper hymns of wor-
ship as they undulated in the breeze. The harmless gossip of
the village had commenced ; the blacksmith's hammer was no
more heard upon the anvil ; and the labourer, as he crossed
the stile with scythe in hand, appeared anxious to be rid of
it, to join the group. Little happy, ruddy-looking children
crept to the feet of their mothers, and playfully gambolled on
the green lawn, caressing their favourite dog or pet lamb ;
and you could not fancy, in your happiest mood, a scene
more chaste than what we have attempted to describe. There
were, indeed, many pretty dwellings in the village, but the
neatest and most tasteful was the one signalised by the name
of Mushroom Cottage. It was so called from its resemblance
to the plant. Its circular walls or footstalk were cleanly
whitewashed, whilst the broad thatched cap or crown extended
its sheltering eaves far beyond the site of its foundation.
Around it grew the rose, the woodbine, the eglantine, and
jessamine, beautifully interwoven with sweetest wallflowers j
and when the sun shone on it it looked like a sheltering
asylum, where the weary and heavy-laden might be at rest.
Outside the garden, through a little wicket gate, you passed
upon a closely -shaven lawn ; and in the smiling hedges which
" marked the boundaries of the dwellers were heard the merry
songs of birds, as, unmolested, they hopped about from
branch to branch and from tree to tree. Upon this green,
beneath a spreading ash, was fixed a rustic table, on which,
was placed a large brown jug of earthenware, on the outside
of which was graven a picture of Van Amburgh with his
lions, or Sir Walter Scott — we cannot positively say which ;
but certain it is that in the interior at least four quarts of
nut-brown ale were visible ; moreover, we are not mistaken
in the quantity, when we assert that four drinking horns
were there as well, and not only they, but four individuals,
on four oaken chairs, were sitting around with four open
mouths to drink it. The individuals who graced the board
consisted of the owner of the cottage, the village parson, the
doctor, and the lawyer, and the occupation in which they
jointly were concerned consisted in emitting volume after
volume of kanaster smoke into the air; the which they



MUSHROOM COTTAGE. 65



executed with a grace and attitude belonging only to practised
individuals. The two couple entered but little into conversa-
tion, being more intent on bestowing their applause upon a
happy group of lads and girls, who were dancing, with mer-
riest peals of laughter, to a spirit-stirring fiddle, around a
decorated pole erected in the centre of the green • and as
occasionally one or other made a false step, and measured his
length upon the ground, the shouts of laughter quickened in
an equal ratio with the blunder of the individual. But of
all the girls (and there were many pretty ones) who danced
upon the green, no one could be compared with Fanny.
She was indeed beautiful ; for in the opening loveliness of the
woman were still preserved the innocence and freedom of the
child. Her face expressed no guile, for her mind knew no
deceit : she was nature's purest sample of the righteousness of
the Creator. Oh ! how they watched her pretty little figure,
as, playful as the lamb, she skipped amongst the flowers,
soiling her white stockings and little sandelled feet ; her eye,
dark, soft, and playful, shedding its joyfulness on all ; her
step more fleet than the gazelle, and her boddiced figure
elegant in its simplicity. The warm glow of exercise irra-
diated her faultless features, and her auburn ringlets, as they
fell dishevelled on her face, shaded most appropriately the
blush which must have otherwise been irresistible. She had
numbered only seventeen years, but many were the hearts
and hands which had been offered to her ; but Fanny thought
not of them, being too happy in her present state to think of
changing it. Of all the aspirants who knelt to her, but one
was favoured with her smile, and that was Allan Maydew;
and never in the chronicles of lovers can be found a heart so
madly smitten and so nobly faithful as the one he tendered
her. From childhood they had played together — grown up
beneath the same roof — reposed in each other's breasts their
joys and sorrows — laughed together — wept together, and
seemed as if, in the creation of the two, a glorious state of
being should be made by their blending into one. It was
Allan, too, who, by the mutual wish and consent of father
and mother, was destined to be the happy son-in-law; by
Fanny he was the favoured lover, for never in her pure young



6Q



MUSHROOM COTTAGE.



heart had risen in rebellion one wish contrary to the edicts of
her parents. Here, then, in a state of happiness, we will
leave them romping and dancing on the green, to hear what
the four individuals have to say who are seated round the
board.

The owner of the cottage was known in the village by the
name of Hasseldon, and was, in the ordinary language of the
world, pretty well to do. In years he was about sixty, and
was the father of Fanny. Hale, stout, and vigorous, he
appeared to belie by fifteen years his actual age, and, though
some few gray hairs were visible, not a furrow ploughed his
cheek, and it looked as ruddy as the crimson waistcoat which
he gaily wore on this occasion. With regard to the other
three, the parson was a tall man, the lawyer a middle-sized
one, and the doctor short and pugnacious ; and they all three
were attired in black, as being emblematic of their professions.
The parson, I have also to record, was very solemn-looking,
and his speech was made to match ; the lawyer spoke very
quick and with extreme ferocity, and had a peculiar method
of making every sentence tell by disarranging and re-arranging
his words, and bringing the whole of it to bear with steam-
like force upon the hapless wretch that came within his
clutches ; as for the doctor, he opposed everything, whether
right or wrong, had some few propensities to pugilism, and
was remarkable for drawing very fine inferences ; whilst the
parson was fairly prostrated between the contending passions
of the two. I have said that they were smoking ; and it
was after watching the last curl of smoke fade away into the
air that farmer Hasseldon drew the pipe from his mouth, and
addressed himself to his companions.

" I have been thinking," said he, very mildly, " what will
be the wisest plan to adopt with my last new tenant. I should
not like to be harsh with the poor fellow— he has six children;
but I have not received a farthing of rent for the last eighteen
months."

" Neck and crop case !" said the lawyer, very fiercely ;
" crop and neck ! Turn him out — bag and baggage — baggage
and bag. Turn him out ! — turn him out ! — turn him out !"

" Alas !" said the parson, very meekly ; t( we are taught
to temper justice with mercy."



MUSHROOM COTTAGE. 67



" Not at all !" said the doctor. " False creed ! — cart before
horse ! Temper mercy with justice — that's it ; and throw in
a handful of spite into the bargain. What's a blister to a
porcupine? Nothing at all. The one's as prickly as the
other. No justice in that. But make his back into a pin-
cushion, and you have him ; otherwise it's a matter of no
consequence, as the donkey inferred when he trod on the
grasshopper. Augh !"

This diversified and elegant piece of rhetoric was followed
by a corresponding thump upon the parson's back, which so
electrified the latter gentleman that although he was about to
reply to his friend the doctor, he failed in the attempt, and
substituted a violent fit of coughing,

" You've taken him rather by surprise," said Hasseldon,
repressing a laugh.

" Rough and ready — ready and rough !" cried the lawyer.
" 'Sault and battery — battery, 'sault ! At him again ! — at
him again ! — at him again !"

" I entreat," replied the parson, unable to refrain from
laughing, and with tears in his eyes, " that I may be at rest."

" Not at all !" said the doctor. " No rest for the wicked !
Wrong again — Irish bull ! What's sour ale to a publican ?
Nothing at all! — he can bear it. But give him an Epsom
draught, and he feels it, as the thumb-screw inferred from
the cries of the culprit. Augh ! — haugh !"

" Such immorality is " But what the parson was

about to say I cannot determine, for the attention of the
whole four was suddenly drawn to the merry dancers, who,
like a revolving wheel, were spinning round the pole in wildest
bursts of gaiety and laughter, when suddenly one of them
released his hold, and, by sad incaution, threw a succession
of summersets upon the green. It was Allen Maydew. Loud
shouts of ridicule were the inevitable consequence. Poor
Allan ! — he rose up, disconcerted with his fall ; but Fanny's
bright and playful smile was sufficient recompense for the
misfortune.

" Ha ! ha ! ha !" shouted the lawyer, rising on his feet.
u I feel so light now that I could dance. Get up !" said he
to the parson, " and think yourself a harlequin !"



MUSHROOM COTTAGE.



" The Terpsichorean art, alas ! is not my "

" Fudge !" chimed in the doctor, seizing him by the neck
behind, and fairly lifting him forward on his legs. " You're
as frisky as a young colt !"

And the poor parson was actually dragged into the circle,
and the whole four beat time to the superannuated fiddle
(which seemed wild with jollity) and to the accompanying
tread of the lads and lasses. There went Fanny, all eyes
watching her ; round, and round, and round went they -, the
bright moon rising over their heads, and her sweet, blue light,
silvering as with a carpet the earth beneath them. The parson
had for some time experienced certain unwelcome symptoms
of dizziness, yet, afraid to fall, still chimed in w T ith the fol-

lowing chorus : —

When the moon is high
The ground is dry,
But summer flowers will wither soon ;
Then hail the chance
Of a merry dance
By the light of the smiling harvest moon.
Fal lal lal la !
The world goes round,
But joy's not found
Through the palace gate or the gay saloon ;
But here she brings
Her choicest things,
With the light of the smiling harvest moon.
Fal lal lal la !

u Fal la la la !" sang the giddy parson, with a last sad
effort, and the next moment measured his length upon
the ground, with the lawyer, the doctor, the farmer, and
heaps of lovely girls upon him. Then came the scramble :
lads looking for their lasses, lasses looking for their lads —
which were more speedily found than (to use an old saying)
a needle in a bottle of straw. It was about this time, when
just recovering from the welcome effects of the shock, that
the tinkling of a bell was heard in the valley that lay by the
side of the cottage, and through which wound the highway
road ; and as the attentive party paused to listen the heavy
rumbling of a waggon was heard approaching.

" It's the carrier !" said one.



MUSHROOM COTTAGE.



" Or a puppet-show V said another. u It's the fair next
week."

But the former proved to be right — it was the carrier, who,
alighting from his vehicle, clambered up the hill- side with
something in his hand.

" It's a new ribbon for me !" said Annie Hawthorn.

" Guess again !" said the carrier.

" It's a letter !" cried Fanny.

" Right !" said the bearer.

" Who for ?" cried a dozen anxious voices.

" For Annie Hawthorn," answered the carrier.

" What news ?"— " What news ?"— " What news ?" cried
all at once, clustering round, whilst Annie, with a flurried
face and anxious countenance, broke the seal, and ran rapidly
over the contents.

" Good news — good news !" cried Annie, leaping with de-
light, and clapping her hands. " The war is over, and poor
Ned, my brother, who left us to roam the wide world, ha3
been so brave, that he's now an officer on board the ship
Britannia, and will be here next week. Oh ! I long to see
him. He will scarcely know us, we've all grown so much."

" Oh ! he'll not forget me," said Allan. " We were old
playfellows together. I wish he were here to-night."

" And I !" — " And I !" responded a dozen voices at once.

" But come !" said the old farmer ; " the hour is late. One
parting glass inside, doctor, and good night."

And accordingly the four brothers entered the cottage ;

whilst the younger and more wicked part of the community

xchanged parting glances (it might be kisses), and hastened

to their respective dwellings, anticipating glorious fun on the

arrival of their expected guest.



CHAPTER THE SECOND.



There is no association of feelings more peculiar and inte-
resting than that which is created by the return of scenes of
boyhood after the lapse of many years. To every object,



70 MUSHROOM COTTAGE.



however humble — a tree, a cot, a stile — belongs a sacredness
which we shudder to see violated; for memory speaks of
many green and happy spots, when, perhaps, the rest of life
is but a desert.

It was under feelings of this description that a young man,
attired in the naval uniform, stood contemplating at a distance
the place of his childhood, and pondered much upon the
many changes which had taken place since the time he left it.
In age he might have numbered twenty years, or scarcely that,
for the buoyant carelessness of early youth still lit up his
expressive features, brown and darkened by the work of tropic
climates. His face was well formed and regular — his com-
plexion dark ; and the prepossession with which he filled the
mind of the beholder might be attributed, in a great measure,
to the frank and open countenance which, to look on, you
might imagine had never felt a cloud of care sweep over it.
His figure, too, was well formed, bearing a degree of manli-
ness and hardihood which no doubt the frequent exposure to
danger and vicissitude had tended to increase. This was
Edward Hawthorn, the writer of the epistle we spoke of in
the last chapter, who, after a five years' absence from his native
home, a mere boy then, now crowned with laurels, and bearing
a commission in her Majesty's service, returned a man once
more into the bosom of his family. After surveying for a few
minutes the beautiful picture of nature spread before him, to
him so hallowed and endeared, he bounded with elastic step,
accompanied with a merry whistle of some heroic tune he'd
fought to, down the mountain side, across the stream, and,
entering the valley, the beautiful cottage we have previously
described, with its rich green lawn and orchards, la}' smiling
above him ; and his heart beat quicker and quicker in pro-
portion as he approached it. It was evening, and lovely
weather; the warm sun was just fading behind the hills, still
leaving his genial heat in the atmosphere ; the girls were
dancing as before; the farmer, parson, lawyer, and doctor
were seated beneath the same ash tree, and engaged in the
same harmless occupation of drinking and smoking; and a
welcome more exhilarating could not have been desired by the
heroic youth who stood so near to hail it.



MUSHROOM COTTAGE. 71



" I wonder/* said the farmer, " what day of the week we
may expect young Ned. I'm quite impatient till he comes.
I always respected that lad as if he were my own son."

" Thunder-and-lightning fellow !" said the lawyer ; " the
boy to fight ! A gem of the nation ! — the nation's gem !
Blaze away! — blaze away ! — blaze away !"

" Alas !" said the parson ; " better it were that peace should
dwell among all nations."

u Not at all — peace won't do with nations," replied the
doctor. " Blunder again ! Peace begets idleness — idleness,
ruin. What's a shaft to a rocket ? Nothing at all. But

give it a light, and it's up, as the pelican said But,

whew ! — what new-fangled stripling is this ascending the hill
side with his gold lace cap and glittering buttons ? Why, by
iEsculapius, it's Ned himself !"

And so it proved ; for in another moment he stood before
them, and was speedily locked in the arms of his sister Annie
Hawthorn, who scarcely credited her eyes as she looked at
him. The farmer, doctor, lawyer, and parson leaped from
their seats to welcome him, and crowds of joyful girls and
lads swarmed about to greet him. This was indeed a happy
sight — the sunny calm succeeding to the storm of darkness.

"Why, how you're changed!" said Annie, relaxing her
embrace. You're quite a man now ! I should scarcely have
known you !"

" And so good-looking, too !" said Fanny. (Poor Fanny 1 —
she was the thing of impulse and of truth : she spoke inno-
cently.) Why, Allan, he's grown more than you, and you
were so much taller when he left us."

" And browner too," said Allan. " But he's outstripped
me in that respect as well."

" I have indeed," answered Edward. " Toil and climate
has done its work upon me ; but noio I am happy, once more
in the bosom of friends and relations."

" Oh, but do tell us all your adventures," said a dozen
pretty girls ; " what you've been doing, and how you have
fought."

" And conquered too !" said Fanny, as she leaned on Allan's
arm.



72 MUSHROOM COTTAGE.



" Not to-night — not to-night," replied Edward. " To-mor-
row, when we are more settled. I have indeed much to tell
you, but "

" He's wearied with travelling," said the parson.

" Not he ! — fresh as a lark !" answered the doctor. " Wrong
again !"

" Oh yes ! I feel so happy I could take part in a dance,"
cried Edward, executing a sea-step on the green.

" Touch-and-go case !" said the lawyer. " Strike up the
fiddle ! — the fiddle strike up ! Lead away ! — lead away ! — lead
away !"

And Edward, singling out one of the prettiest girls in the
group, led off the dance, with the parson, the doctor, and the
lawyer at his heels. Blithely rung the notes of the fiddle,
and happily beat the hearts of the company, as in graceful
attitude they footed it across to each other, and sallied off
with a spirit-stirring gallop down the middle — returning to
the top again, and waltzing round, displaying their agility to
the succeeding partner. Allan seemed delighted with the
pastime, and Fanny danced with a grace and beauty seldom
seen before; whilst Edward was abundantly favoured with
the smiles of his fair partner, and the happy gaze and admi-
ration of the rest. The doctor, the lawyer, and the parson ran
foul of each other so often — and not without some damage —
that the parson, who was the weaker vessel, frequently went
to the wall, and slipped in again in any way he found the
most expedient. Now, Edward, although not naturally vain
or conceited, could not, with all his fortitude, withstand being
flattered by the many sweet and sometimes stolen glances cast
upon him ; yet such was the modesty of his nature, that the
question naturally arose in his mind, whether or not it might
be the glittering buttons on his well-fitting uniform, and not
virtually himself that attracted the attention. Whether it was
or not, such sober calculations were soon lost in the whirl and
festivity of the dance. It is a natural consequence agreed on
by philosophers that any thing or person falling from the top
will sooner or later reach the bottom ; and so it was witfi
Edward and his partner, who were now resting, the last couple,
at the bottom of the green, and for the first time he had now



MUSHROOM COTTAGE. 73



an opportunity of coolly looking round him. He watched
the beautiful figure?, with many twinkling feet, tread gaily
through the mazes of the dance, at times obscuring each other;
yet when, in some vacant space, the form of Fanny flitted by,
it was as welcome to his eye — ay, more so — than the first
bright star that glistens in heaven after storm and darkness
to the mariner. At every glance of her it was like a shock of
rapturous electricity thrilling through his soul, and the feeling
with which he regarded Allan Maydew was purely one of
envy. The frank and open sailor in his heart imagined, as he
watched her lover lead her through the dance, that though he
had returned to home again as to a peaceful haven, he had
run upon a rock which would make shipwreck of his happiness
for ever. And Fanny was indeed one that few could banish
from remembrance ; but yet she knew not this. Her beauty
and her mind were alike unsophisticated, and when we speak
of her loving Allan Maydew we must remember, as we before
said, that she had been taught to do so ; but, alas ! she had
not yet got the lesson off by heart. The love of Allan would
have trebled that of hers — ay, more than that; but still in
her guileless bosom dwelt the obedient feeling, that if any
being upon earth claimed more of her affection than another,
that man was Allan Maydew. For the first time in the even-
ing, a shade of sadness mingled with the happiness of Edward
Hawthorn. The vivacity with which he started slightly
slackened, and, with all his resolution and resource, he could
not rally it. How gladly would he have given all his laurels
to adorn the brow of Allan Maydew, could he have but
exchanged them for the happy fortune of the farmer. He felt
a coldness at the heart which had long been a stranger to
him.

" Now, Ned, make ready ! — make ready now, Ned !"
shouted the fantastic lawyer, with his arm round the waist of
his fair partner. " Right, left ! — left, right ! By Jove, we're
coming ! — we're coming, by Jove ! Look about ! — look about !
—look about !"

"Yea, verily, we approach," said the parson, following
after.

"Detestable hypocrisy!" cried the doctor. "We don't



74 MUSHROOM COTTAGE.



approach ! — milk-and-water speech ! — we drive along ! Get
out of the way, Jeremiah ! Augh ! — hangh ! Now, Ned,
my hero, strike to the tune !"

And Ned, thus admonished, looked around and rallied up
his cheerfulness. But what called back again the rapture to
his soul ? — from what electric source shot out that fire which
again lit up his eye and cheek ? It was from Fanny ; for as
he raised his head from moody contemplation at the sonorous
voices of the doctor, lawyer, and parson, he beheld her eyes
fixed on him with a sweetness — yea, a tenderness — shall we
say a fondness — that never, through the vista of departed
years, Allan Maydew had experienced. Great God ! how
one little moment, in which is cradled that fixed affection of
the soul — that love which saints make glory of in heaven,
when known (no matter how) to heart and heart — can change,
as if by a magician's wand, all scenes and prospects we had
dreamt of in the future. He suffered not his eye to stray one
glance from hers (for in that glance w r as written all that he
desired on earth), until the blush of modesty — that chaste
reproof which angels glory at — pressed softly down her eye-
lids ; and 'twas gone. Merrily went the dance, and higher
and higher rose the spirits of Ned, until all were charmed
with his hilarity. The character of the dance brought him
nearer and nearer to the side of Fanny, and when, in confor-
mity with the figure, he took her from the side of Allan to
escort her down the middle, there was a something in the
guileless pressure of the hand which I will leave the reader
to imagine. It was a case : it's very laughable too. Poor
Fanny ! — she was in love, and positively did not know it. It
w r as a feeling as novel to her heart as the sight of this bright
world to one whose eyes had never seen it — happy, joyful,
and enrapturing. Her eye beamed more brightly and her
step grew more elastic, and, what was more, these pleasurable
sensations were multiplied by the increased attention of
Edward Hawthorn. The dance came to a close (for nature
will occasionally give hints of weariness at the best of times),
and each cavalier, with his partner on his arm, retired to
recreate upon the sylvan seats, o'er-canopied by graceful trees
and bordered round with sweetest flowers. Allan Maydew,



MUSHROOM COTTAGE. 75



with the eagerness and quickness of an eagle, held his arm to
Fanny; and as she looked towards Edward as he escorted his
partner to a seat, had Allan been the most obtuse observer
upon earth (which he was not), he must have been alive to
the conviction that he had known the time when his arm had
been more earnestly accepted. And still within her sinless
breast she felt a joy when Edward, having seen his partner
seated, as politeness indicated, shaped his course to the
doctor, the lawyer, and the parson, who were laughing most
immoderately together.

" I'll tell you what, my boy," said old Hasseldon, as he
approached them ; " those golden buttons of yours dazale all
the girls ; may the harvest be a bad one, if they can keep
their eyes off them."

" Ned's a Nelson !" said the lawyer ; " a Nelson is Ned !
Metal outside and mettle within ! A gun's own son — the
son of a gun ! Jig away ! — -jig away ! — jig away !"

" Yea, verily, he danceth well," said the parson.

" Who disputed it?" demanded the doctor, turning sharply
round. u Do you wish to quarrel ? You don't know what
happiness is without you're eternally fighting and scratching."

The parson at this moment happened to be looking more
placid than the most innocent lamb, and the pugnacity of
the doctor's countenance forming such a powerful contrast,
the laugh became irresistable.

" By the gods of war," said Edward, looking upwards, to
conceal his laughter, " T have never beheld, even at sea, the
moon shine so brightly as it does to-night. A more cloudless
sky was never seen in Italy."

" Then hurrah for the dance once more, and the last
to-night !" said Hasseldon. " See, Ned, the girls are getting
impatient — all fidgetting to feel their feet again ; so now for
the fiddle. Why, where's Allan got to? He's always the
first with the girls."

The result of this speech was that Edward immediately cast
his eyes to the spot where Fanny was sitting, with a cluster
of merry girls laughing round her, and, taking advantage of
the absence of Allan, he insinuated himself into the midst of
them, and solicited the favour of her hand. With the frank-



76 MUSHROOM COTTAGE.



ness of an angel, and with, as much sincerity, she accepted
it, and the fiddle grew wild again and the dance more exhila-
rating than ever.

" How happy I am," said Fanny, " to see you home again,
after so many dangers."

" I would have braved a hundred battles," said Edward,
with enthusiasm, " to have made you but for once my partner
in the dance."

Poor Fanny ! Allan had never said anything so grand as
this. She felt a blush suffuse her cheek, and tried to conquer
it ; but virtue was not to be cheated of her noblest feature,
and she blushed deeply.

" How happy all your friends will be," continued she, very
gaily, and laughing with all the openness of a happy heart,
" that you've done with the sea, and have now come to dwell
amongst them !"

Her partner looked into her joyous face, and the joy re-
flected from it upon his own almost restrained him from
replying that two months was the utmost extent of his visit.

" Indeed !" said Fanny. " I thought the war was over."

" True," replied Edward ; " but the service of the queen
is never idle."

It must have been delightful indeed for Edward Hawthorn
(who, to tell the truth, was over head and ears, &amp;c.) to have
seen the shade of sorrow which for a while eclipsed her radiant
features.

" But wherever is Allan ?" said she, turning round to look.

Edward cast his eyes carelessly about, and, though others
saw him not, discovered in the shade of clustering trees a
little distant, half-concealed by the trunk of an aged oak, the
form of Allan Maydew, with his eye unerringly fixed on him.
There was evil in that glance. Love, true in its character,
admits no trifling. Yet there, in that sequestered place, with
the iron entering his soul — with all the gall of jealousy
defiling the bright blood of life — with a brain peopled as with
forms of hell — he had rather have fallen dead beneath the
torment than have betrayed to Fanny one pang of his emotion.
Here, again, is the nobility of nature.

Still onward went the dance and wilder grew the revel, and



MUSHROOM COTTAGE. 77



Allan, with a careless, happy-looking countenance, mixed up
again with all. Night stole softly and gradually on, until
time, with its usual lack of ceremony, admonished them to
part. Edward entered the dwelling of Easseldon in company
with the three professional gentlemen, and Allan Maydew
conducted Fanny and offered her a chair beside him. The
joke went round; the doctor grew more facetious, the parson
more solemn, and the lawyer more ferocious ; whilst Edward
related his adventures by sea and land with such an off-hand,
matter-of-course delivery, that he charmed the hearts of the
girls. The countenance of Fanny lit up with interest as she
listened to the eloquent recital of their guest, and when he
had just concluded the last story she exclaimed —

" And, after all, how fortunate you are to have returned to
us again at the very time the i Treat of the Lord of the
Manor ' will be celebrated !"

But what was meant by the " Treat of the Lord of the
Manor," we will narrate in our next chapter.



CHAPTER THE THIRD.

In our last chapter we proposed to submit to the reader an
explanation of what we meant by the u Treat of the Lord of
the Manor." It was an annual species of festivity given by
the above gentleman in commemoration of the day when he
recovered his sense of hearing, having previously been deaf
for ten years. Now this was certainly a singular event to
celebrate, but the gentleman, as gentlemen in his capacity
frequently are, was extremely eccentric, if not a shade beyond
it. Having once had the misfortune to experience the disad-
vantages of total deafness, a rational individual would have
supposed he would have studied to preserve that necessary
sense when once regained; but this was not the case; for,
being deprived of it so long, the loudest and most detonating
sounds were quite inadequate to his desires; he seemed



78 MUSHROOM COTTAGE.



anxious to compensate by the most terrific noises the loss of
all the milder ones he had sustained for ten years previous.
He would travel miles to see a review, and had been known
to watch a tottering building for ten days together, eagerly
anticipating the crash. Cannons were planted almost as thick
as trees about his mansion, and kept pretty well in exercise ;
the consequence of which was that any family which could
possibly avoid it declined to live within three miles of him.
In music he was equally as great a thunderer, and amused
himself by offering large premiums to the man who could
inflate and crimson his face the most with blowing. But
the great climax of his glory was a thunder-storm ; and he
anxiously watched the heavens on the day of his uproarious
festival. On this day it was his custom to invite the peasantry
of all villages within a circle of three miles to the enjoyment of
various rural sports of a thundering, loud, and detonating
character, and the gentry and more opulent to the luxuries of
his own table. It was his custom to illuminate his very ex-
tensive grounds and gardens in the most variegated manner
possible, and, in fact, to make it an annual memorial of his
love of grandeur. Though very eccentric, as we have said, he
was a man of unbounded liberality — was fond of fun — had a
good heart — hated pride and conceit (as much as we do), and
was in all respects — a gentleman. Having thus, in some mea-
sure, prefaced our chapter with his character, we will now
resume the thread of our discourse.

The sun rose bright and promising on this memorable day,
which was indeed anxiously anticipated by the villagers for
miles round. The highway roads appeared literally thronged
with people, and manifestations of the greatest jollity and
lightness of heart were everywhere to be seen. The poor
theatrical in rusty black, with his puny wardrobe on his
shoulder, was toiling onwards \ the puppet-show, with tempt-
ing pictures, slowly jogged along, surrounded by happy groups
of children, who watched it with a kind of solemn curiosity.
The usual embellishments of a fair, exemplified in the shape
of nuts, cakes, oranges, and ginger-beer, were locomoted on
decorated carts; merry laughs and shouts rang jollily amongst
the green lanes and hedges, and nature appeared so bright



MUSHROOM COTTAGE.



and happy humoured, you might have imagined her to be
laughing more than all the people put together. Now, there
never had been known a year to pass over in the annals of the
u Treat of the Lord of the Manor " without that respectable
and venerated individual sending down his own carriage to
the house of Hasseldon, for the purpose of conveying him,
with the doctor, the lawyer, and the parson, to his mansion
— those gentlemen being his most esteemed and very particular
friends. For Fanny he entertained the most marked affection ;
and greater kindness to her could not have been shown,
save from the breast of her own father. No excuse could ever
emancipate her from the visit on this day ; and it is no mat-
ter of astonishment that when so brave and illustrious a
visiter as Edward Hawthorn was in the village the invitation
should be particularly extended to him, and the connecting
part of the community. Thus, with spirits excited to the
utmost, and fingers and resolutions bent on mischief, the
whole party, in gay attire, clustered round the gate of the
cottage, anxiously awaiting the approach of the carriage to
convey them. And a pleasing sight it was. There was
Fanny all in white, gay, fluttering, and serial as a fairy — her
eye beaming with sensibility, and her cheek radiant with
happiness; there was Annie Hawthorn, all in pink, light as a

zephyr, and wicked as ; there was Allan Maydew,

gaily attired, with flowers in his coat, and fragrant as a hot-
house ; there was Ned, in naval uniform, gold lace cap, and
glittering buttons ; there was the parson, the doctor, and the
lawyer, all in black, except the vest, which was white on this
occasion ; there was Hasseldon, like a locomotive rainbow.
The church bells were gaily ringing, one, two, three, and four ;
the birds whistled, as in concert -, music of all descriptions
thronged the highway roads ; pedestrians and miscellaneous
vehicles were in progression ; and it seemed that if in life at
least one day should bring no care — that day had come to
bless them.

" So you're to be married in six months, Fanny," said the
doctor, giving her a kiss (this is always permitted to medical
men). " What a lovely bride you'll make ! Allan, you're a
happy fellow — I congratulate you."



80 MUSHROOM COTTAGE.



Allan looked with a face of delight into that of Fanny,
and saw — what? — a deep blush. And Edward drew a long
breath, vulgarly called a sigh.

" Happy, indeed," said Allan. " Let fate look black as
night, at least one favouring beacon will befriend me."

" And if from God," said Edward, almost to himself, " those
glorious spirits who guard us when in danger may look down
on earth, may their blessed watch be on you !"

He raised his head towards Fanny, and, as she leaned on
Allan's arm, a paleness came upon her cheek, and she trem-
bled violently.

"Well done, Ned/' said the lawyer. " Brave and noble —
noble and brave ! An oaken heart — a heart of oak ! Go on
like that — like that go on ! If I'd a girl I'd give her to you
— to you I'd give her if I had a girl ! I would by Jove — by
Jove I would ! Laugh away ! — laugh away ! — laugh away !"

This was certainly very elegant, and appeared to amuse the
company ; and, in the midst of the hilarity, the kind-hearted
pastor breathed a prayer for their happiness. Whilst all were
thus merrily laughing at the gate, the notes of a guitar were
heard distinctly in sweet yet mournful strains upon the sloping
green which led to the gate of the cottage, accompanied by a
manly voice of peculiar sweetness, and in another moment
the minstrel stood before them. He wore the tattered garb of
a mendicant, and his feet were covered with dirt and dust by
long travelling. Large drops of perspiration were on his
brow, occasioned by fatigue, and, perhaps, by the enervation
which accompanies the pangs of hunger. His complexion
was black as night ; his features swarthy and sallow ; his long
black uncombed hair hung down upon his shoulders; and,
though humble to look at, there was a haughtiness in the large,
dark, rolling eye, which seemed very much at variance with
his dilapidated condition. It was easy to perceive at a single
glance that he was a gipsy. He fixed his gaze one moment
upon Allan, languidly passed his fingers over the chords of
the guitar, and as he took the coin offered him a sneer curled
his lip, and he spurned it haughtily from him to the ground.

" Your charity may one day serve you," said he. " I do
not play for hire."



MUSHROOM COTTAGE. 81



" You read the stars ?" said Edward. " Can you tell a
fortune V

" No I" answered he, contemptuously. " I read no stars;
I read no book ; but I can read the heart, and from the heart
infer the fiat of the future."

" Tell me," said Fanny, " oh, tell me if my fortune will
be happy V

The gipsy fixed his eyes upon her guileless, lovely coun-
tenance, and the ironical expression of his features softened
into mild, sweet, and mournful contemplation. He took her
hand, and regarding it for but a moment—" You are to
marry," said he, " and shortly. Are you happy?"

" Ye — ye — yes," faltered Fanny, as a tremor agitated her
w 7 hole frame, and the colour fled her cheek.

" You're right for once, my friend," said Hasseldon. " She
will be married ; ay, and in six months too! Is it not so,
Allan?"

" True — happily true !" replied Allan, in a rapture.

" Ha ! ha ! ha !" laughed the mendicant. " No fabrication
ever coined in hell for the delusion of mankind was yet more
false."

u False !" cried Allan, as the blood rushed to his face, and
his hand instinctively became clenched.

" Not your heart," replied the gipsy, coolly, " but your
notions of the future. Listen. Misfortune will this day come
upon you — yet slightly. You will toil as men for wealth will
toil; lands wide and fertile may confess you 'lord;' but
your name will rot in nothingness for ever."

A shudder involuntarily crept through the flesh of Allan.

" And mine ?" said Fanny, laughing as in unbelief.

" Your fate is great," replied the gipsy. "Honour, kind-
ness of heart, and nobility of nature are concentrated in your
husband,"

" And where," cried Edward, eagerly smothering his emo-
tion, " is that harvest of glory to be gathered ?"

" On the wild sea," replied the gipsy. " On the waste of
waters — with man to man — 'midst blood and death — the
grasp for life — with death-shrieks ringing round in mad
defiance — in the bitter shrieks of slaughtered heroes — there
rocks the cradle of his glory !"



82 MUSHROOM COTTAGE.



" God send his messenger of peace in that tremendous
hour !" cried Edward ; and as he looked towards Fanny he
beheld a face as blanched and bloodless as his own.

A dark frown for a moment wrinkled Allan's brow, but was
as rapidly succeeded by a laugh.

" But tell me ," cried he.

" No more,'' replied the gipsy, hastily. " Enough, young
man," continued he, turning to Edward ; when the two
sweetest and brightest drops are added to the cup of life's foul
bitterness, then shall you see me as a witness to your bliss,
and the cold, harsh, withering curse this world has cast on
me will melt beneath the fervour of your blessing." So saying,
and throwing his fingers wildly over the strings of his guitar,
he turned the corner of the lane, and was soon lost amidst
the foliage of a near plantation.

" Strange !" said old Hasseldon, rather musingly,

" Oh, nonsense!" cried Allan.

" Fudge!" said the lawyer.

" Sheep in wolf's clothing !" exclaimed the parson.

" Baugh !" said the doctor.

" Oh ! here comes the carriage," cried Fanny, as she caught
a glimpse of the gay array between the trees, and in another
instant it stood before them. Then came the bustle. " Who's
for the carriage ? — who the horse ?" when, to settle the matter,
the ladies were safely deposited inside, and the harder sex
mounted on horseback. Away went the cavalcade, dashing
carelessly, joyfully along, all nature smiling; the trees laugh-
ing with autumnal richness ; cottagers standing at their doors
to cheer them ; the flowers breathing perfumes in the air ;
and birds, whose voices seemed almost modulated for the
praise of nature, lending their delicious music. At length,
with the rapidity of a courier, the three miles' distance from
the lord's estate was traversed, and the beautiful hall, almost
entombed by trees, rose like a fortress lo the view. The wide
domain was encircled by a low stone wall, not higher than
the breast of a moderate-sized individual, not so much for the
defence of the place as to serve as a foundation for the plant-
ing of cannon of no mean calibre. Amongst the trees, like-
wise, were fixed innumerable quantities of bells, with the



MUSHROOM COTTAGE. 83



ropes hanging down at variance with the branches, which the
gentleman kept continually pulling for his particular amuse-
ment, intermingling it occasionally with the roar of cannon,
which were loaded afresh every morning, and a fresh box of
Lucifer matches insinuated into his waistcoat pocket every
evening. We shall become better acquainted with this gen-
tleman by just following a few of his actions. On the arrival
of the carriage at the gate, he seized, with furious grasp,
every bell-rope in his reach, and rung as if the mansion were
on fire ; then drawing from his vest a match, he fired a
cannon large enough to shake the Rock of Gibraltar ; the
next moment, running to the gate, he raised his stick with
awful resolution, smashed to pieces the carriage window,
pushed his head inside, and coolly inquired how they were —
made the coachman clatter the carriage steps down three
times before the company alighted — set up three cheers on
his own account, and then conducted them within, occa-
cionally touching off a cannon on the road by way of diver-
sion. Everything was fitted up for the most clamourous
amusements — shooting at a target, fencing with swords, fire-
works, timbrels and triangles without end, and horns conti-
nually blowing. A play was to be got up in the evening, and
the name of it was " Bombastes Furioso." With hearts full
of the anticipation of pleasure they skipped along the park —
old Hasseldon in company with the lord ; the doctor and
the lawyer, with the parson in the middle, kept a respectful
distance from every piece of artillery they came near; gay,
fluttering girls rambled about on every side ; and Allan, with
the eagerness of a hawk, kept Fanny on his arm as if by right
of property (valuable property too) ; whilst Edward walked,
carelessly and loungingly on the other side. Yet Allan's
glance continually reverted to him, and if but for a moment
Fanny turned her head when he addressed her, his eye wa3
never off him. We blame not this. It was affection — ay, as
true and deep as was ever rooted in a human heart — even to
piety; for that praise which should otherwise be heaven's
was lavished upon Fanny as his only idol. It was love in
natural beauty, untainted by the trickery and deception of
the world : he adored her almost to madness, and could not



84 MUSHROOM COTTAGE.



nor wished not to conceal it. There is nobility in this pas-
sion, because it seems so unpolluted, and emulates that love
which is not ours, but the angels'. Poor Allan !

Still onward went the party, admiring and admired ; the
lord incessantly tinkling his bells, firing his cannons, and
startling everybody. A beautiful conservatory rose in view,
and its fragrance perfumed the air with sweetest incense.

" Oh, Allan, how I should like a flower S" said Fanny.

"The sweetest one of all!" said Allan, and he bounded
from her like a roe to pluck one.

" What an envious commission !" said Edward, as he drew
near Fanny. " Could the love I bear my queen be conquered,
how willingly I'd give my hard-earned honour for his !"

Fanny slightly smiled, but laughingly replied, " Oh ! my
service is not so arduous as the queen's, and I grant commis-
sions far more liberally. Will you get me a flower as well ?"

" A thousand !" cried Edward, with enthusiasm.

But an accident which threatened to be serious stepped in
to the salvation of the flowers. Allan, triumphantly bearing
a beautiful bouquet in his hand, was just returning to deliver
it, and, anxious to be quick as thought, bounded over a small
box tree on the right at the same moment that the lord of
the manor took it into his head to ignite a match and fire off
a cannon. Though the cartridge but slightly struck him on
the shoulder, the shock w r as great enough to prostrate him
upon the earth, and the blood gushed from his ears and nos-
trils. In a second all were gathered round him ; the doctor
made an instant examination, yet nothing serious was disco-
vered, but it was sufficient to debar him from the enjoyment
of the day. The doctor enjoined rest, and he was conveyed
into the hall.

" Here is the flower," said he, holding out his hand.
" Dear, dear Fanny, the gipsy spoke rightly. You have lost
your protector for the day."

"And found another!" said Edward, cheeringly offering
his arm to her, which was accepted.

But the last glance of Allan, as they bore him into the
hall, though suffering from intensity of pain, was poisoned
with the bitterness of hell.



MUSHROOM COTTAGE. 85



CHAPTER THE FOURTH.

The festivity of the " Treat of the Lord of the Manor " was
at its zenith. The sports of the day went off, as we can
imagine the Battle of Waterloo would do, in thunder, fire,
and triumph. We can moreover imagine that when the
evening set in and the strenuous exertions of the lord began
to slacken, according to the principle laid down by nature,
that the quieter enjoyment would be much more valued, and
the worth of the entertainment more cordially appreciated.
The last curl of the smoke of artillery faded away into air at
the same time that the last rays of the sun faded away behind
the hills, and the uproarious voice of the lord of the manor
became more gentle at the same time that the gentle shades
of evening mantled earth and sea. And then in mellowest
light the bright moon rose in silvery gladness, as though
anxious that not one moment of enjoyment should be lost;
and stars, whose twinkling eyes appeared like heavenly patron-
age, studded the unclouded sky, and beamed their feebler
light upon the scene ; and gay, beautiful, and happy was that
scene to look upon, like one of those delicious traits in life,
one of those green spots of happiness which in the after-times
of care and sorrow we remember with a sad yet pleasing con-
templation. From every tree, however small, hung lamps of
every colour and richly variegated, and, as darkness gradually
increased, their motley flames shone forth in deeper grandeur;
statues and monuments of classic sculpture graced the ter-
minus of every walk, and adorned with innumerable devices
both of ancient and modern character. From this circum-
stance it will be seen that the gentleman's respect for ancient
talent was equal to his mania for modern fun. The illumi-
nated trees and intermingling branches lay so closely planted
that throughout the wide extent of land many natural and
unintentional labyrinths were formed, affording thus the pleas-
ing entertainment of frequently being lost in sylvan beauty,
and in the search for your recovery constantly been charmed



86 MUSHROOM COTTAGE.



by fresh disclosures of the elegance of nature. Moreover, in
these decorated parts the graceful fall of a cascade, the rip-
ple of some trickling stream, the plashing of an embryo
fountain, or a perfumed bed of flowers, continually opened in
the mind new themes for contemplation, and roused into
reaction every joy that otherwise might wane into satiety.
But now rich strains of music from the illuminated hall pro-
claimed the opening of the dance ; and there, in gayest cos-
tume, with partners happily appropriated to each other, and
the lord of the manor expending all his breath on a double-
sized trombone, the festivity increased, and only found its
zenith as the clock struck twelve. The doctor, the lawyer,
and the parson outvied each other with their weapons of
ferocity, pugnacity, and solemnity. Old Hasseldon looked
with a face of delight and admiration on the fairy form of
Fanny, and Fanny never seemed to feel the lassitude of exercise
so long as the support was given by the arm of Edward
Hawthorn. But where was Allan Maydew ? In a lone apart-
ment of the hall, stretched upon a couch, and with a mind
more angry than the injuries he received, he groaned beneath
the doctor's orders of observing perfect rest. He heard the
merry laugh — the eloquence of music — his mind was peopled
with a thousand images of gaiety, and as he watched the
ornamental fireworks now brightening the air with myriad
sparks, and thought upon the many beauteous eyes which
gazed towards heaven upon them ; all these combined increased
the severity of his wound, and, worse than all, kept rankling
in his heart ; for with this festive scene the thought of Fanny
— her form so captivatiog, her beauty so irrisistable — was
associated, and all those angel smiles, which, in the opening
enjoyment of the morning he anticipated, were changed to
bitter disappointment. There, alone, in that dreary room,
impatient of recovery, he raised himself from the couch and
crawled across the apartment to the window. Beyond, in
beautiful expanse, lay stretched the kingly park ; and, mean-
dering through countless trees, the placid lake lay calmly in
the moonlight, reflecting from its depths the images of the
stars and the disc of the unclouded moon. Along its margin
waved the soft laburnams, and their golden beauty appeared



MUSHROOM COTTAGE. 87



as a canopy more fitted for beings of a better world than ours.
Poor Allan ! a coldness came across his heart, and weary and
well nigh broken-hearted he sought again the quietude of his
couch. A gentle tap against the door awoke him from the
peacefulness of a welcome slumber which at last came over
him, and the next moment a form as of that of a ministering
angel entered the apartment. It was Fanny. Oh, how his
eye brightened, and the energy of manhood flew back to his
heart ! He forgot the weakness that was on him and quick
as thought, with a forgetful effort, he rose to meet her.

" I have escaped," said Fanny, " from the dance to inquire,
Allan, how you are ? And "

" Oh, better — better now !" cried Allan, interrupting her,
" My strength returns to me ; but promise me your hand,
and I could almost lead a dance."

" How many would rejoice to see you," answered Fanny,
tenderly ; " but you are rambling. I am sorry I disturbed
you."

" Oh, no ! — oh, no !" cried Allan, bitterly. " If thoughts
like these are only madness, oh ! how lost to reason have
been all the years which have chronicled the events of life.
There never was, dear Fanny, one paltry circumstance,
however light and trivial, with which I have not connected
some happy thought of you ; and even pain grows mild when
you are standing near me."

Poor Fanny ! She remembered the years that were gone —
how they had lived together ; how they had wept together,
and how, in sunnier moments, they had laughed together ;
how they had thought upon the past, and looked with bright-
ness to a happy future ; and the tears came into her eyes.
She could not for a moment recollect one word or deed of
Allan's that was not fraught with kindness to her; the affec-
tionate gifts he had presented her ; the noble actions he had
dared for her ; and as she beheld him there — alone, in pain
and agony, and yet with eyes suffused by tears of fondest
love, the weakness of the woman came upon her, and she
wept bitterly. But yet these holy tears came not from the
impenetrable depths of love, but from the more shallow fonts
of gratitude. Her eye, her heart, her soul — all, all were



MUSHROOM COTTAGE.



given, never to be moved unto another — ay, given, even to
herself unknown if they might be accepted. But is there not
within the silent angel which reads from heart to heart the
reciprocity of feeling? With all the intensity of woman's
love — with all the constancy of unchangeable affection — with
every prayer directed towards heaven, not for herself only,
but for him — with passion never to be quenched — with life
enraptured by the thought, she worshipped Edward Haw-
thorn. A dizziness — a strange sensation almost as of madness
filled her brain ; it was the moral dictate of the mind in
contention with the rebellious dictate of the heart ; and she
leaned beside the couch of Allan for support.

" You have at least worn the flower I have procured you,"
continued Allan, as his eyes rested on her bosom. " There is
some consolation in that. How happy to me is the thought
that love, unlike the flowers, can never die !"

Fanny trembled violently, and her lip quivered with emo-
tion. She would have spoken, but utterance failed her. She
dare not break the spell which seemed upon him, for it dis-
armed him of all pain ; yet oh ! how deep the torture in her
own pure breast, to grant that golden but delusive dream to
linger with him.

The doctor entered the room at this extremely painful and
embarrassing moment. He took Allan's hand, but with the
excitement he had undergone the fever had materially
increased. The doctor looked cross.

" All wrong together!" said he. "Must keep still — going
mad — very — March hare ! What's a draught to a madman ?
Nothing. Must lose blood — full stream ; and then we have
him, as the handcuffs said to the prisoner."

With a deep and fervent pressure of the hand, and a long,
last lingering look, Allan watched Fanny pass from the apart-
ment, and the doctor stayed some time alone with him. On
arriving at the bottom of the staircase, a feeling almost of
sickness, occasioned by the agony of mind she had undergone,
came suddenly upon her, and she leaned for support against
the balustrade. The breeze of evening came softly stealing
through the trees, refreshed and cooled by the waters of the
lake ; the sounds of revelry and mirth still issued from the



MUSHROOM COTTAGE. 89



hall -j and, once again revived, Fanny was about returning to
the dance, when Edward Hawthorn stood before her.

" You look pale," said he, approaching her ; " and here
alone !"

" I have been to see Allan," replied Fanny, " and was
about returning, but the heat of that crowded room is too
great."

"For the same reason I have just left it," said Edward,
laughing. " I've been far more cool in many an action."

They were standing on the margin of the lake, and a small
skiff, purposely constructed for the accommodation of two or
three persons, lay floating on the water.

" Let us ride along the lake," said Edward ; and, assisting
Fanny into the boat, he took the oars, and gently began to
ply in the water.

It was glorious too ! On either side the overhanging
branches were almost intersected, and their coloured lamps,
like fairy fruit, appeared to cluster with each other, whilst
between the trees were seen to flit occasionally the happy
forms of two enamoured ones, or any other given quantity.

" To pass a night like this," said Edward, " in such a place
— in such society — deeply embitters the remembrance that I
soon must leave it."

" To go — where?" said Fanny.

" I know not," answered Edward, carelessly. "Perhaps
to death — perhaps to parch upon some desert ; or, like Robin-
son Crusoe, to build myself a hut on some benighted island.
But one thing, Fanny, I do know — I go to duty, and, if fate
and opportunity befriend me, I hope to glory."

Fanny sighed (women generally do at such announcements).
" Oh, why not be content with the laurels you have won,"
said she, " and remain in peacefulness with us ?"

Edward watched for a moment her countenance distressed
by deep solicitude ; then, laying down the oars, and seating
himself beside her, he took her hand.

" Could all these lands," said he, " enriched as they appear
by all earth's choicest beauties, be mine to-night, and were
vassels to kneel before me, I would spurn their contemptible
obscurity for one bright prize which shines before me, like a
god in the firmament of honour!"



90 MUSHROOM COTTAGE.



" And that prize ?" said Fanny, eagerly. Poor Fanny ! —
she thought it was coming.

" Fame !" cried Edward, with enthusiasm. (Now, fame
may be all very well ; but that was not exactly what Fanny
wanted.) " I would be," continued he, " where danger
threatens — where I might emulate the deeds of those great
men who have gone before me — where I might lose the dross
of this besotted world, and live but for nobility — to stand on
some proud eminence on which is fixed a nation's gaze, and
there, exalted into honour, to hear the glorious cry, that when
the enemies of England came down to her destruction, that
man stood firmly at the bulwarks !"

Fanny felt the truth of this assertion; for what is life if
death bring not — a glorious epitaph ?

" And for this," said she, " you barter all that childhood
has endeared to you ?"

" Not all!" cried Edward, growing warm. " You remem-
ber, Fanny, now some thirteen years ago, when you were but
a very little girl, how the hand of poverty was upon me. My
father, wayward as his son, (it may be better), forsook, like
me, this quiet pastoral life for the chance of fortune in the
ranks of war. You remember well how he adorned the pro-
fession he had chosen — how from war to war he led them on
to victory, till, maddened with desperation at the chances
of defeat, when overpowered by numbers, he fell into their
cruel hands. Oh, God ! oh, God ! The very blood within me
curdles at the memory of his ignominious death. He was
lashed — lashed to the yard-arm ; his naked breast bared open
— it may be spit upon — a breast beneath which beat a heart
no cruelty could conquer ! Oh, God ! I think that I can see
him now, in fancy — there, alone ! — the bloody sweat of torture
pouring from him ! — the gory tide of hellish cruelty branding
his white flesh ! — the recreant eyes of Frenchmen looking on !
Oh ! curse them ! Fanny, hear me. When every night I
kneel before my God — when on my knees, all seems so still
that I think my prayer is borne to heaven and heard. When
every nerve is strung to desperate rosolution, I ask for but one
little word of deep reality to carve upon my father's grave."

" And that word ?" cried Fanny, tremblingly.



MUSHROOM COTTAGE. 91



u Revenge !" shouted Edward, almost wildly. " For that
alone I live ; for that I left this peaceful home; since theu I
have been hunted like a beast at bay ; but now rank — fortune
has smiled upon me, and, like the lion panting for revenge,
I'll turn the chase; and let them beware — despair!" The
tears stood in his eyes whilst speaking, and, with that true
nobility of soul which marks the hero, when the excitement
of passion had passed away his head fell languidly on Fanny's
shoulder.

" But may not the report be false ?" said Fanny, with that
heavenly solace which, belongs only to woman. " The darkest
side is always over-pictured."

"Heaven grant it!" answered Edward. "It is but too
true. But let us think of something happier ; this night at
least is destined to enjoyment ; and I must shortly leave
these happy scenes for ever."

" For ever ?" said Fanny.
" Ay, for ever !" returned Edward. " I could have wished
to conceal within my own breast that which I might have
confessed in writing when far away. There are feelings,
Fanny, which we dare not utter, and which, under certain
circumstances, are better dead and buried in forgetfulness."

11 Oh, what ?" cried Fanny.

Edward paused a moment, and looked into her face. " I
will be frank with you," said he. " Time hurries on ; all idle
words are fruitless. From the first moment I beheld you,
with a passion never to be changed, I loved you. Hope
sprung within me ; but on that hope I now look as I would
look down upon a corpse : that hope is dead. You are
affianced to another."

" Never !" cried Fanny, in the voice of angel truth. " But
pledge to me a heart whose love is like to mine, and, oh !
through joy or sorrow, poverty or sickness, through tears or
sunshine — ay, even through the very gate of death — that love
shall blossom, even in eternity !"

*******

What followed, kind reader, is no business of yours ; per-
haps you may have been in a similar predicament yourself;
if not, you have a treat to come. The fact is, that almost



92 MUSHROOM COTTAGE.



every author imagines he is able to describe the very peculiar
sensations which are felt at a moment like this. Now, this is
an error which we shall avoid — and we claim to ourselves the
originality of doing so ; likewise, if others would follow our
example, the generality of writings would stand far higher
than they do. However, u the course of true love never did
run smooth," as will be shown in our next chapter.



CHAPTER THE FIFTH.

Time passed on. The period awarded to Edward Hawthorn
as a holiday was drawing to a close, and his active mind had
already begun to shape his course towards honour in the
future. The season, too, had begun to change its character,
and every object to assume a more autumnal aspect. There
is a something in autumn which, like distant bells, is sadly
sweet; for when their tinkling music falls upon the ear it
brings with it the truth, that beneath them lies that dark and
silent dwelling we have soon to exchange for our bright and
animated world ; and so, as autumn falls upon us, we feel that
the fairest and most happy things are fading, and the tomb of
winter opening to engulph them. The trees were losing their
leafy richness, and on the light green tint the sear and yellow
mildew came like a disease ; flowers began to fade, and, as
Fanny sat in moody contemplation at the oriel window, the
wrecks of summer strewn upon the ground were borne in
whirling eddies across the lawn by the cold and rougher winds ;
days had become materially shorter, and the sportive revelry
of the summer evenings consequently less, and when the skies
became more veiled by heavy rolling clouds defacing the
bright moon, and the night wind drove them on like awful
spectres, the kindling flame of a cheerful fire in the parlour
of the cottage was more agreeable by far to the doctor, the
lawyer, and the parson, and all the other inmates of that



MUSHROOM COTTAGE.



93



happy circle. It was on such an evening that the individuals
mentioned were convened together, and were talking and
laughing as if they never had — nor ever expected to have —
anything to make them sorrowful. Allan had perfectly
recovered from his illness, and as strength and health again
returned to him, the anticipation of the reality of his delusive
dream increased in its intensity day by day — and, indeed,
that day was fast approaching which, agreeable to every ex-
pectation, was to chronicle the beginning of his happiness.
He thought of nothing else — could speak of nothing but of
Fanny. In the daytime he was never from her side, and in
the hours of night her form was constantly before him in his
dreams. Alas ! alas ! how small the bestowal of comprehen-
sion implanted in the mind when passion overpowers the
ability of looking to the future. Though doubt and jealousy
were mixed up with the picture of his happiness — though the
presence of Edward Hawthorn mingled gall with every
draught of pleasure that he quaffed, he could not bring him-
self to the unbelief that the many years of their mutual affec-
tion could wither in a day. How trivial, however, is frequently
the cause from which the most fatal and serious events arise,
and give to the current of life that decisive change which
otherwise might have flowed on the same for ever. We have
remarked that they were seated round the fire, the gentler
ones laughing and talking, and the more rude and turbulent
drinking and smoking.

" Ned," said old Hasseldon, blowing a terrific cloud of
smoke from his mouth, " how I should like to see the medal
which was presented to you by your commander after the last
terrible action."

" And I !" said Annie Hawthorn.

" And I !" " And I !" responded the rest.

" Ned's so modest," said Hasseldon, " he keeps all his merit
in his waistcoat pocket."

" Yea, of a truth," said the parson, " his good works should
shine before men."

" Then I'll act on your advice," said Edward, carelessly
drawing from his pocket a very handsome medal preserved in
a crimson miniature case, and which bore the inscription of



94 MUSHROOM COTTAGE.



his bravery in war ; and he accordingly handed it to Hassel-
don.

The girls clustered round his shoulders to look at it.

" How beautiful !" said Annie Hawthorn. u It glitters like
a diamond."

" It does honour to your heart, Ned," said Hasseldon, re-
garding it with a smile of admiration.

" And credit to his head," said Fanny, somewhat wickedly.

" Ned's a Bacon as well as a Nelson," said the lawyer; "as
well as a Nelson Ned is a Bacon ! He's got a head as well as
a heart — a heart he's got as well as a head ! He'll come to be
great — to be great he will come ! Let him fight ! — let him
fight!— let him fight!"

" Yea, in the service of his country, let him fight," said the
parson ; " even as the Israelite smote the Philistine."

" Who wants to stop him ?" said the doctor, taking the
medal in hand. " Let him go loose — he'll conquer or die.
Knock 'em down — knock 'em down, as the auctioneer said to
his hammer. Look at this, Allan," said he, handing it over
for inspection ; " when you win a prize like this for agricul-
tural talent, what two noble fellows we shall boast of in the
family !"

Allan, with a gay and careless air, took the bauble in his
hand, but, more curious than the rest, raised between his
fingers, indeed as much by accident as anything else, the
snowy piece of wool in which the medal was embedded.
Great God ! how that little trespass of the finger, like the
devastating blast of winter on a smiling harvest, laid waste
in darkness every bright dream of happiness which had been
to Allan his only heaven. Beneath the wool, in a smooth
and glossy circle, was twined a lock of beautiful auburn hair,
and in the centre of that ring, upon a rich enamelled card,
was written " Fanny." Had the very earth beneath his feet
that moment divided into two parts to crush him in its vast
abyss, his emotion could not have been greater. The case
fell from his hands as though struck by heaven itself with
inaction, and his eyes, with all the coldness of a stony image
fastened upon those of Fanny. In a second Edward saw the
result of his forgetfulness, and, quick as lightning, snatched



MUSHROOM COTTAGE.



95



up the case and secreted it. Keaction — deep, maddening,
and revengeful — speedily drove off the paralysis of soul with
which, for a moment, Allan was enthralled, and he rushed
like a madman from the room. Fanny had nearly dropped
with the emotion which agitated her whole frame, as would
some fragile bark beneath a strong tempestuous wind, and,
with a powerful effort, she flew to the window to conceal
what otherwise must soon have become evident. As for
Edward, the same proud look and signification of resolution
lit up his countenance, for he now felt that in Allan's eyes he
must for ever stand as a successful and determined rival, and
he felt no wish to hide it. With the firmness and courage of
a man, he resolved to throw all obstacles, however formidable,
overboard at once, and openly declare his love ; for what has
man to fear beneath the law of honour ? Though nothing
could be more painful and embarrassing than the three pecu-
liar situations into which they were cast in less than three
minutes of time, it was known only to themselves.

But let us follow Allan. With a brain in which the natural
sensibility of man was lost, and a burning heat as of madness
coursing every vein, he flew, like one distracted, over hill
and dale, in vain attempting, in the cold night air, to quench
the fever which parched his very soul. Like one who in this
world has not a single object to pursue, nor cares for one, he
traversed every path of deepest solitude, until nature, weary
and exhausted by excitement, gave way, and he flung himself
upon the earth. Rage, sorrow, a broken heart, and then
revenge, like torturing fiends, beset him, till, overcome by
the contending passions, he yielded to a law more heavenly,
and wept bitterly. Poor Allan ! He had loved as no man
ever had ; he had idolised but one thing upon earth ; he had
cast away all thought but that of her ; and with all the
intensity of his unhappy soul he prayed for death. His eye
rolled round in search of something to afford relief, but every
object — a tree or walk, the distant village — only embittered
the distraction, for there was no place that Fanny's foot had
not trodden in company with him, and made it like a heaven.
At times the tears afresh came starting to his eyes, and again
his hand became clenched in deadliest vengeance. The breeze



MUSHROOM COTTAGE.



of night swept coldly across his brow, now bathed in perspi-
ration, and with a calm, determined resignation, and the
iron entering his soul, he swore an oath more terrible than
that of Cain. He rose upon his feet with all the eagerness of
vengeance, resolved to hear from Fanny's lips the words of
his refusal, and then for the work of death. Drawing his
vest closely round him, like the wolf in darkness, he began
to track the road that Edward Hawthorn usually traversed,
determined on that dreadful night to watch him as his prey ;
and thus he retraced his footsteps to the cottage. All was
just as he had left it — the friendly talk and jocularity going
round ; but neither Fanny Hasseldon or Edward Hawthorn
were of the party. Scarcely regarding anything but their
absence, he again quitted it, and stole beneath the gloom of
the trees which overhung the highroad. At about a mile
distant from the cottage there stood the ruin of an old building
which at one time was supposed to have been an abbey or
some abode of sanctity, for within its ivied walls were still
preserved some relics of the shrines of the departed. It was
pointed out in that part of the country as a curiosity, and
frequently visited by travellers who chanced to pass that way.
Its mouldering stones were daily crumbling into pieces, and
its ancient grandeur was faded by the hand of time ; yet still
the vestiges of graves remaining, and the inscriptions of the
dead not entirely effaced, threw round it, as it were, a sacred-
ness which they who lived near it were affraid to violate. It
stood upon the edge of a precipice, beneath which lay the
rough and angular stones which at different times had fallen
from it ; and though to look below the depth might not
appear above twenty yards, yet to fall must have been imme-
diate death. It was in this place that, unable to remain in
the cottage, Fanny and Edward Hawthorn had repaired to
screen themselves from observation and talk of their inten-
tions for the future. It was a cold night, and clouds, in dark
and heavy masses, now and again obscured the moon, and
threw around the place a terror which at times made Fanny
look around and shudder. Edward threw his cloak about
her, and, taking her right hand in his —

" Let us kneel and swear together," said he, " beside this



MUSHROOM COTTAGE. 97



hallowed tomb, that our love shall never change ; that before
the face of enemies or friends — before poverty or greatness —
your father and the memory of mine — ay, even to the very
face of Allan Maydew, we will not deny our affection for
each other, and I will carve for you a name that nobles shall
not blush to hear."

Fanny passed her arm round his neck, and knelt there with
him.

" This, indeed," said Edward, joyfully, u throughout all
time will be remembered in our after-life as one of the
brightest moments of existence I"

" It was foretold you !" cried a deep and manly voice,
and the mournful tones of a guitar accompanied the words.

A stifled scream escaped from Fanny, and she clung to
Edward for support. It was the gipsy !

u I have heard that voice before," said Fanny. " Oh ! is
there not evil in its tone ?"

Edward looked around, and in the paneless vacancy of the
ruined window the figure of the gipsy stood but for a moment,
and instantly disappeared in the darkness.

" Strange !" said Edward. " Fanny, since first I saw that
man I have never been able to banish him from my memory."

" Oh, let us leave this place !" said Fanny. " There is a
fatality about it which makes me tremble."

Edward took her arm, and gently led her towards the
crumbling portal of the ruin, and both were about to leave
the place, when the form of a man suddenly darkened the
archway. The moon that instant peered through the gloom
of a black cloud, and burst full upon his face. It was Allan
Maydew. He was pale as death, and his bloodless lips were
quivering in silent curses with the intensity of passion. Fanny
screamed wildly, and, with the timidity of woman, clung to
Edward. Not a second elapsed ere Allan's hands were fas-
tened like a vice round Edward's throat, and his fingers, like
the talons of the hawk, actually rankled in the flesh.

"Dog!" cried he, whilst his eye rolled wildly in deadliest
hatred. "You have blasted every hope I had in life; you
have taken from me that which God and childhood promised
me; from my very heart you have robbed the life-blood



98 MUSHROOM COTTAGE.



which sustained me ; and, by the sacredness of heaven, I'll
never quit you till I gloat upon the sight of yours !"

Fanny fell beside the relic of a gravestone almost senseless.

" Release your hold !" cried Edward, almost choked by the
gripe of Allan.

" Never !" cried Allan.

" Madman ! Take your hand from my throat, I say !"

" Never, till death unclasp the gripe !" shouted Allan.

" I would not willingly hurt you, Allan," cried Edward ;
but, mind, I am a desperate man !"

" Ha ! ha ! ha !" laughed Allan, almost like a demon.

"Then the work of your own folly be upon you!" cried
Edward - } and, giving free exercise to the strength of his arm,
he dealt a blow so furious on Allan's breast that he fell, like a
child, insensible. The next moment he raised Fanny from
the ground, more dead than living.

She gazed wildly upon Allan as he lay stretched on the
bare earth, close by the very edge of the precipice, and,
sudden as some onward current which after long obstruction
has cast the barrier free, burst into a flood of tears.

" What have you done ?" said she to Edward, in an agony,
yet clinging firmly to him. " Oh, God ! how little did I look
for this ! Poor Allan ! he is dead !"

" Not dead !" cried Allan, languidly, as sense returned to
him, and he rose upon his feet. " Not dead ; but hating life.
One moment hear me, Fanny. Revenge has passed away,
and I am calm. You cannot, surely, banish from your heart
our love of former years ; yet, let them pass. You cannot
count as worthless those tears which now fall from me ; you
cannot trifle with the promised blessing of your father on our
union. Look on me here ; more like a beast infuriate than
human — and all for you — for you alone ! Can this be false ?
Have I deserved this scorn ? Now hear me — and by the hope
I have of heaven I swear to do it ! Behold me ! I stand
upon the brink of this tremendous gulf (here he approached
the edge of the precipice) ; but speak the word that you dis-
card me, and by the God who at the last will judge me rightly,
I hurl myself a shattered corpse upon the stones beneath !"

A shriek, terrible, wild, and thrilling, from Fanny, rung
through hill and valley.



MUSHROOM COTTAGE. 99



" The word !" cried Allan, as he waved his arms round in
the air, and with one foot planted for the leap.

" Now, Fanny !" shouted Edward, as he released his hold
of her. " The test has come ! The one or other even unto
death !"

"Allan!" cried Fanny, as, at the first impulse, with the
righteousness of the angel, she rushed forward to save him
from destruction.

" Fanny !" said he, with tenderness, as, overcome with
the extreme excitement of the last few minutes, she fainted
in his arms, and became alike insensible of what she had done
or what was passing around her.

A bitter smile just slightly curled the lip of Edward Haw-
thorn, and, turning on his heel, he left the spot. His proud
soul was stung. The same night he departed from the village.
Oh, reader ! let us just quote here again the latter part
of those beautiful lines —

" A word is ringing through my brain ;
It was not meant to give me pain ;
It was when first the sound I heard
A lightly-utter'd, careless word.
Oh ! would to God I ne'er had heard
That lightly-utterM, careless word !"



CPAPTER THE SIXTH.— CONCLUSION.

Whilst the cordial interchange of feeling and the jest and
joke went round amongst the happy inmates of Mushroom
Cottage ; whilst the lawyer passed his joke upon the parson,
and the doctor as usual came forward to the attack; whilst
Hasseldon was laughing at the mockery of the argument, how
little did he think of the unhappy circumstances transpiring
without. And pitiful it seems, that when so many years of
uninterrupted happiness had gilded every moment of his life;
when, from the company of Fanny — his dear and only child —
he had laid aside all worldly matters, and thought of but one

L. of C.



100 MUSHROOM COTTAGE.



thing — her brightest welfare — that in the wane of life the
furrow should be ploughed upon his cheek and coursed with
teai^s of bitterness from him. In the midst of their hilarity,
and during the very conversation which then happened to be
passing pertaining to the approaching union of his daughter
with Allan Maydew, the door of the apartment was opened,
and Allan, pale and haggard with the dreadful scenes in which
he had borne so terrible a part, entered the apartment. His
dress was disordered by the struggle he had borne with Ed-
ward Hawthorn, and one or two marks of violence were on
his face ; his whole demeanour was unsettled in the extreme,
and he tried in vain to assume a composure which nature
would not tolerate. Taking a chair, he seated himself as far
as politeness would admit from the company round the table,
and, burying his face in his hand, appeared lost to everything
around him. A deep sigh, which seemed to devastate all
happier feelings, frequently escaped him, and, though unseen
by others, many tears trickled through his fingers, which
his swollen eyes were unable to contain.

" Allan, you appear unwell to-night," said Hasseldon.
"Where is Fanny?"

Allan's heart almost swelled to bursting — it was indeed full
and utterance well nigh failed him.

" She is not well either," answered he, almost choked by
the emotion.

" Not well !" said Hasseldon, surprised.

Allan roused himself from the despondency which almost
weighed him to the earth —

" She left me for the retirement of her own chamber," said
he. " She has complained of illness all day."

Hasseldon immediately quitted the apartment to go to his
daughter.

" And where is Ned ?" said the lawyer.

Allan trembled. " He left me at the ruin not an hour ago,"
said he.

" Bid him good night for me," replied the doctor, rousing
to depart ; which very appropriate example was followed by
the rest of the company, and Allan, tortured by the presence
of all, was left to the relief of solitude. He rose from his



MUSHROOM COTTAGE. 101



seat, and paced the room in all the agony which dissimulation
brings. He knew not how to act, or what to do. He had
borne Fanny to the cottage in his arms insensible, and v. hen
awakened from that awful trance, she had sought with eager-
ness, as if pursued by some horrible phantom, the loneliness of
her apartment, where, unobserved, she might weep for that
relief which tears can only bring. At the moment that Has-
seldon entered the room she was sobbing with her face upon
the bed, as if every fibre of her heart would break, and those
playful eyes, which but a little earlier were bright and full of
dearest language, lit up with joy, and beaming full with hope,
were reddened by the deepest anguish ; whilst her face, which
made you love her to regard it, was pale, and bloodless as a
statue. Her father took her hand in tenderest affection, and
inquired the cause ; but tears, hot and burning, flowed but
more profusely, and, as he raised her from the bed, she fell
upon his breast^ and wept in freedom.

" You appear unhappy, Fanny," said he. " Are you un-
well ? — or what has caused these tears ? — they are the first I've

seen for many a year."

She could not speak, and only answered by deeper floods of
grief, which kindness always brings when spoken to the
troubled heart.

" Oh ! leave me but a moment," cried Fanny, in a voice
of anguish, " and I will tell you all."

Hasseldon, gently relaxing his embrace, affectionately bid
her good night, and left her to the repose of sleep, which he
vainly thought would soon chase from her some sorrowful
reflections the circumstance of her approaching marriage
might engender. Descending the staircase, he again entered
the parlour, and taking leave of Allan, they both retired for
the night. It was in vain that Allan flung himself upon the
bed, and tried to sleep. The circumstances of that fearful
night raged like a rebellion through his brain, and almost
drove him mad. He had heard the oath, so wrapt in holiness,
which was breathed from Fanny's lips to Edward Hawthorn,
and his heart failed him ; yet he could not banish the remem-
brance how she had rushed to save him — how when even the
test was put by Edward Hawthorn she had called upon his



102 MUSHROOM COTTAGE.



own name, and fallen in his arms ; and then hope sprung once
more within him. Pale, restless, and care-worn, he watched
the night clouds pass away, and eagerly anticipated the ad-
vance of morning. The sun hroke out in all the clearness of
an autumn sky; nature was awaking; the birds were singing,
and all looked life and animation. Composing himself as
much as possible, he left his chamber, and entering the par-
lour, discovered Hasseldon with the doctor, the lawyer, and
the parson, seated at the breakfast table, and in a few minutes
afterwards Fanny — deathly pale, yet calm and cheerful-look-
ing — entered the apartment. Whilst all were thus seated,
apparently undisturbed, and reconciled together, Hasseldon
congratulating himself on Fanny's convalescence, the door
was opened and a note delivered into his hands, which he
read aloud. It was thus briefly worded : —

" Duty having called me away, I have left the village. I could not
bear the thought of parting ; and you will pardon the abruptness
when
you consider that it has saved me much unhappiness and pain. —
Edward
Hawthorn."

" Noble fellow !" said the lawyer, which eulogy was cor-
dially responded to by all the others.

But, alas! for Fanny — the very principle of life seemed
passing from her; a sickening kind of enervation almost
made her fall, but, with the strongest effort her little re-
maining strength was capable of commanding, she happily
escaped to her own room, and locked the door. And then
there came that joyless blank — that sepulchre of the heart,
which, when all it ever treasured is no more, beats not from
the impulse of the soul, but only from the mechanism given
to it by nature — that law of life continuing when the soul
with fervency is praying for its death. There was not within
her breast one little corner where she might find relief, for in
that love, which was the first as surely as it would be the last,
all life's best feelings were centred; and as the flower bereft of
its prolific principles will wither, so Fanny's health was fading
like to it. She sat beside the window weeping, regardless of
the natural scenery that in happier moments she had praised ;
the flowers around her felt no longer the fostering tenderness
of her hand, and seemed almost to droop ; yet when some



MUSHROOM COTTAGE. 103



object which revived the memory of many joys attracted her
she could but turn away and weep more bitterly. One little
word, though righteously spoken, still rung within her brain
like the death-bell of her happiness— one little word that was
not meant for misery, but for good. It was in vain she tried
to bring again into order the thoughts which, like the frag-
ments of some shattered wreck at sea, had torn her mind to
pieces : all was dream-like, as though in time she yet might
awake to some happier reality. Could oaths so sacred and so
deep be cancelled all at once ? — or if another heart were like
to hers, could it forget how much it once had loved ?

Days — weeks passed on, but yet Edward came not, nor had
one line to them disclosed his place of destination ; and when
Fanny sat, almost regardless of everything around her, in the
cottage — whilst all was merriment amongst the rest, her
thoughts were far away, and her eye exploring the long line
of road, in vain imagining that every individual might be the
bearer of some happy news. Meanwhile the day appointed
for her marriage was close at hand, and the most active pre-
parations were going on ; yet although it would have been far
easier to attract the magnet from the pole than to alter her
determination to resist it, the gentle, timid spirit of her nature
had not the moral courage to disclose it. On the eve of that
eventful day, she was seated by the side of Allan, almost in
distraction ; she heard him speak with eloquence and warmth
of his approachiDg happiness ; she saw the happy smile her
father cast upon her face ; she listened to the congratulations
of her friends ; she saw before her the chaste white dress she
was to wear, the flowers which were to enwreath her hair,
the busy needle plying for the completion of her bridal cos-
tume, the actual ring which was to take her from her home
and, indeed, from happiness ; the tears once more started to
her eyes ; she left the side of Allan, and taking from her
breast one little well-known token of another, she kissed it
rapturously. Stealing away from the rest of the company)
she again sought her chamber, and, with a mind perfectly
collected, but a heart entirely broken, she wrote the following
lines to Edward, addressing them with all uncertainty to
where she thought his character in life would lead him, and



104 MUSHROOM COTTAGE.



which he afterwards received. Her hand trembled, and the
tears in her eyes almost obscured the characters as she wrote :

" I will not address you by any name which might recal the memory
of the past, for I would spare you the agony it gives me. Yet you
have
taken with you that which you could only have in marriage— all the
affection my Creator ever gave me. By your side I felt myself the
woman, but now that you are gone I am again the child. They tell me

that I am to be married on the morrow ; but, oh ! may heaven grant
that,
though I have no protector now, I may have strength enough and
right-
eousness of soul to avoid the wicked act. You are gone, I hope,
into
that path of honour you so beautifully spoke of; and if one bended
knee
may but assist you, think only upon me in one unchanging posture of

humility .— F. H."

When Edward read this simple, guileless letter, he fell upon
his knees and prayed.

*******

The night passed away, and the beautiful morning fixed for
Fanny's wedding rose bright and beautiful. The sun shone
warmly and brightly ; the village bells were chiming their
merry peal; friends were there to greet her; and all the
excitement incident to such a memorable day was passing
round her. But Fanny gazed upon them not as scenes or
circumstances of reality, but as we look upon a panorama or
dissolving view ; as things which have been, and not which
are to happen. There was not one small tint upon her pallid
cheek, which in her days of happy love was never absent;
there was not an expression of the eye which could tell of
happiness, or even stimulate it ; but, like the glazed, un-
moving features of the dead, she seemed the passive victim of
a sacrifice more than one whose union with another should
chronicle a life of bliss.

Still merrily rang the bells, and gaily the wedding equipage
assembled at the cottage gate. Allan, excited to the utmost
by the prospect of his happiness, gaily took the arm of Fanny,
which clasped in his more like the action of an automaton
than any living thing. He led her to the altar ; she stood
there like the statues carved about her; all friends were
gathered round ; and there — amidst that crowd, in a voice
distinct a3 [utterance could be, she refused the oath. The
climax had come : she could confess before her God what she
could never have done to man. The struggle had been great,



MUSHROOM COTTAGE. 105



and her father rushed forward to save her from falling. All
was instant confusion and astonishment.

" Oh, God ! oh, God!" cried Allan, as in agony he struck
his forehead. " She loves not me !"

The doctor, prompt as thought, saw Fanny conveyed as
quick as possible back again to the cottage, and never left
her side. Her reason almost appeared shattered by the thou-
sand contending feelings that distracted her ; whilst the poor
aged father knelt beside her, almost broken-hearted. Allan
could not for a moment bear to look upon the scene ; he had
done with passion, and nothing but a heart lone, drear, and
desolate was left him. But his mind and resolution had now
become fixed. He determined to quit his native scenes for
ever ; and calling Hasseldon from the room, he related
frankly every circumstance connected with the visit of Edward
Hawthorn. But where was he? Away — afar off — it was
unknown to any where the author of this misery might be.

Two days passed by, but the indisposition with which Fanny
was so seriously taken continued still unchanged. Her intel-
lect at times appeared confused, and her mind was frequently
engaged with things which had never been familiar. She
would talk of circumstances which for years had been for-
gotten, and even at times mistake one person for another.
All life and vivacity had left her, and her once beautiful figure
seemed to shrink within itself. So feeble had she become
that, when walking but a dozen yards, the doctor had to
support her. Tt was on the evening of the third day after the
distressing circumstance mentioned that he had ordered her
to be taken a little distance from the cottage to inhale the air,
which was unusually mild and warm. Everything around was
still. The day was just closing ; the village appeared mantled
in serenity ; and it seemed a night when the soul, o'er-wearied
by the body, might wing its transit peacefully to heaven.
Fanny appeared more weak and feeble than she had ever
done, and the fit of abstraction longer and more deep. All
friends were round her, and, as they watched the tears cours-
ing down her pretty face, now pale as marble, their own eyes
filled, and they knelt beside her. The doctor watched her,
while his kind heart was almost bursting ; yet he forbade her



106 MUSHROOM COTTAGE.



own father even to speak to her. He approached her gra-
dually, for her form was tottering. Her countenance grew
sickly, and a clammy perspiration bathed her face — in another
moment she would have fallen.

" Great God !" cried Hasseldon, rushing forward. " Poor,
poor, poor child ! — she is dying !"

The doctor turned his head, and burst into tears.

" Fanny !" cried h«r father, in the wildest agony ; " dear,
dear Fanny ! speak but one little word !"

He felt his hand just slightly clasped, but not a breath
escaped her lips !

Poor, poor Fanny ! She was dead !



EPITOME OF THE VILLAGE NEWS.



EPITOME OF THE VILLAGE NEWS.



FIRST WEEK.

During the week, the boat coaches have been heavily
oppressed by visiters, but especially invalids; conveying to
us the silent but comfortable intelligence that the neigh-
bouring hospitals have been well swept out. There is a season
for everything — and this is ours.

We are sorry to announce that Peter the Bellman has been
suffering under a violent inflammation of the chest, caused by
the fiery redness of his waistcoat. The pain has been so great
that he has cried loudly and tolled his tale piteously.
We sincerely hope that he will not be lost to us, but he found
convalescent, and handsomely rewarded for his sufferings.

There is a lady just arrived in our village, via St. Helen's,
with a nose so sharp that when her husband kisses her at
night, he merely scrapes his chin across it, and he is shaved
for the following morning.

The Ionic Pillar, at the corner of Nevill-street, has been
suffering under severe indisposition during the last few days,
caused by the immensity of stock in the establishment of the

proprietor. Mr. was called in, and he administered

an emetic, when, having discharged a morbid quantity of tea
chests, sugar-loaves, mould candles, and pickles, it again
became convalescent, and still waits for a commission. Have
pity, ladies !



110 EPITOME OF THE VILLAGE NEWS.



A very interesting and beautiful young lady, being coura-
geous enough, on Wednesday last, to bathe alone, unfortunately
got out of her depth. We are happy, however, to state that
she was rescued ; but being very thickly incrusted with shrimps,
she was immediately conveyed to the hot-bath, where she
speedily recovered; likewise, the shrimps having become
boiled, the young water nymph collected them into a reticule,
took them home, made a hearty tea, and had a sufficient
quantity left for breakfast the day following.

Sitting on a tombstone, the other night, at twelve o'clock,
for the sake of solemnity and solitude, we were sorry to hear
the long finger of the clock complaining to the short one, as
they met at midnight, that it was not very well. " Oh, never
mind, old fellow !" replied the little fat indicator ; " you will
soon come round again" And so they parted.

A gentleman recently arrived at Southport has had the mis-
fortune to become bald-headed. His lady, we understand,
is most disconsolate, for such is the obstinacy of her lord,
that he has actually refused the use of bears' grease and
macassar oil, and despised a wig because he chances to be a
Tory. Our advice is that he should quietly await the coming
of the next regatta, and try the salubrious effects of treacle-
dipping : it gives strength and stiffness to the hair ; and, in
proof of this assertion, we can produce a donkey-boy who,
till lately, never had a hair upon him.

The vane at the mast-head in front of the Scarisbrick Arms
has become so inebriated by the fume of the brandy and
tobacco exhaled by the numerous occupants, that it is con-
stantly annoying the four quarters by changing the wind fifty
times a-day. We can only compare it to a cruel enemy, for
it gives no quarter.

We have not lately seen or heard anything of the comet.
It was thought to be visible the other night, when the moon

was at full ; but it proved to be only Captain W flying a

kite with a phosphoric tail to it.

Dreadful Denouncement of the Public Baths. —
Walking, the other evening, on the Promenade, we were



EPITOME OF THE VILLAGE NEWS. Ill



unavoidably compelled to hear the following lamentable tale.
A lady, of rather dejected countenance, declared to her com-
panion that the Baths had been the death of her — a lover had
slipped through her fingers in consequence of them. She
and the idolised one were walking together on the very spot
on whieh they then stood — sweet converse was at the zenith —
her lover glowed with the fervency of affection— the moment
was peculiarly interesting — he was positively on the eve of
proposition, when those filthy washing-tubs— the baths —
appeared, and, instead of those sweet words, " Will you,"
&amp;c, he actually paused a moment, and said he'd take a bath.
She waited with a palpitating heart for his return — two ribs
were nearly fractured in consequence — she thought another
rib would have gone — now was the time, or never ! — he
quivered with emotion— poor fellow, she must pity him ! — ■
he was, perhaps, modest — very !— when — horror upon hor-
rors ! — upon her casting an angel smile upon him, he was
only shivering in an ague, and talked of porter, warm — very
warm — actually fettled !• — yes, he absolutely used that vulgar
epithet ', and she had never seen him since — the chance was
lost ; and she heartily wished the proprietor of the Baths
might be consumed in his own smoke. So much for bathing.

A gentleman walking up Sea-bank-road pointed out to
his friend (whom we presume to be an Irishman) an
individual with a cork leg. " Poor fellow !" exclaimed the
Hibernian ; " and has he a cork foot likewise V

We rejoice to state that the railway fever which of late has
caused such ravaging dissensions has passed away, and things
are now assuming a more healthy aspect.



Saturday, June 28, 1845,



SECOND WEEK.

Extraordinary Birth. — A poor woman, in Nevill-
street, has had the remarkable honour of bequeathing to the
world three healthy new-born infants— two twins, and a dis-



1L2 EPITOME OF THE TILLAGE NEWS.



similar one. The dissimilar one is a remarkably fine fellow,
and refuses the breast ; but the other two are milksops. As
the occurrence took place when the tide was slap up, and the
rain coming down like a universal shower bath, the Spirit of
the Flood descended on them, and they were there and then
denominated Shem, Ham, and Japheth.

The Ionic Pillar, at the corner of Nevill-street, has actually
been caught winking at a donkey-girl ! What on earth will
it do next ?

Court Circular. — Her Majesty the Queen and his
Royal Highness Prince Albert held a levee at Little London,
on Wednesday last, which was attended by a number of
distinguished equestrians on Arabian steeds. The Spanish
Ambassador was expected from La Mancha; but, one of his
children having got the measles, he was not able to leave
home. Her Majesty and her Royal Consort, after having
expressed their sentiments to Count Bolton and Prince Rim-
mer, dismissed 1hem, with a glass of beer, to their respective
territories. Duke Jump had an interview with Viscount
Hodge, on Thursday last, for the purpose of considering the
propriety of raising the revenue - arising from sea-bathing.
The illustrious Duke and Visc6unt not being able to agree in
fixing the rate of duty, blows were had recourse to, when the
antagonists were speedily found bathing in their own blood ;
thus monopolising the Red Sea to themselves. Lord Ball
took his usual airing by the fire in the Public Baths on Friday
last, being considerably damped by the non-success of the
season.

Lucky Escape. — In the heavy gale on Tuesday evening
last, when all respectable eyes were closed in sleep, three un-
fortunate vessels were blown ashore with such violence that
the bowsprit of one had nearly carried away Mr. Newton's
lamp, in Nevill-street. A numerous party of rescuers were
seen coming down London-street to their assistance, when the
ships, perceiving who they were, immediately slipped back
into the sea, and sailed away towards Liverpool.

Peter Pickled. — The village crier being compelled to
have recourse to sea-bathing to invigorate him after his recent



EPITOME OF THE YILLAGE NEWS. 113



illness, has become so impregnated with the saline particles,
that he is no longer Peter the Bellman, but Salt-Petre.

Our correspondent from St. Petersburgh has not yet arrived
with the Russian intelligence; nor do we expect him.

The old lady who sells vegetables in the market in front of
the Assembly-room, has just dropped into a fortune, but is so
enamoured of a commercial life, that when asked what she
intends to do with it, she only answers, " Buy more vegetables. 5 '

How green she must be.

We really think there must be some peculiar fascination in
the spirits of the Scarisbrick Arms ; for no sooner has the
vane in front of the house become sober, than we perceived,
the other night, a gentleman whirled out with such velocity
that we can only assimilate him to a top, for in another
moment he could not stand upon his pegs. However well this
gentleman may dance the Polka, he evidently excels in the
reel. Perhaps he thinks us severe ; but as tops are so well
cut out for tohipcord, we really cannot withold the lash.
Should this meet his eye, the hint will perhaps come home to
him ; and we sincerely hope, whenever it does, that it may
find him there,

We were somewhat surprised, the other night, at the arrival
of a man of colour upon crutches by one of the bridge coaches.
We must confess, with all due deference to the sombre
gentleman, that we were forcibly reminded of the principal
character in " Asmodeus."

We perceive in the village a remarkably small individual,
not much taller than his hat. We at first thought he might
probably be one of the little cherubs attendant on the fairies,*
entangled in the world's net ; but this, we understand, is not
the case, for he came by the Swallow omnibus, and was then
six feet high. Although this capacious vehicle sicallowed
him, it could not digest him entirely, and, feeling oppressed
by the load, threw him up at last ; so that what we now gee
is all that remains of him — an animated bit of indigestion.



The Ladies' Club.



114 EPITOME OF THE VILLAGE NEWS.



It is our pride and caution always to avoid the introduction
of any stale and second-hand matter ; but we really could not
help remembering Cruikshank on seeing a dog on the Prome-
nade with its tail curled so very much that it actually lifted
it off its hind legs. Though this is not fresh from the mint,
it is a coin that will long remain current.

The writer of this intelligence begs to state that, having just
upset his inkstand on the tablecloth, he is not able to write
any more. The landlady has caught him in the very act, and
she looks blacker than the ink, which has the decided effect
of making him look blue. It's too bad, Miss W ! Be-
lieve me, whenever you get married, you'll look pleasanter
than that. Ah, you needn't laugh ! only just wait till I come
round again, and we'll square matters immediately. — Sapo
mollis !



Saturday, July 5, 1845.



THIRD WEEK.

Did we not confidently know, both by public and private
information, that the toll-collector on the Promenade is a man
of the soundest integrity and good principle, we should feel
inclined to question his morality, for we never go upon the
Promenade but we see him in the Boundhouse.

We understand from our agricultural friends in the vicinity,
that a considerable quantity of hay yet remains to be got in ;
but we do not care a straw for that — why should we ? for all
flesh is grass, and we don't like confinement.

The crops, it is thought, will be very abundant this season
in Southport ; at least so says Mr. Sawyer, the hair-cutter —
his shears having cut down the ears of 150 schoolboys.

Pay for Peeping. — On Wednesday last, towards even-
ing, a boy, attired in the donkey costume, had the fatal
impiety to dismount from his steed and clamber up the sides
of the Ionic Pillar, and look down the aperture at the top, to



EPITOME OF THE VILLAGE NEWS. 115



ascertain what was in it. The superincumbent weight pressing
upon the magical springs below, forced up a pickled cucumber
with such immense velocity that, entering the right eye of
the boy, it pierced the brain, again appearing through the
base of the skull, and knocked down the donkey below, to the
great astonishment of the animal. The boy, of course, is of
no consequence ; but we regret to state that the cucumber is
not to be found. We rejoice, however, to hear that an inquest
will be held over the first conquest of the Pillar.

We cannot help smiling at the complaints of our numerous
visiters against the wet weather. What else do they expect,
we wonder, when they come to a watering-place,

Mr. Salthouse, of the Victoria, is at present in possession
of some of the most generous wines in the country. It is so
extremely old that it is actually compelled to go down your
throat upon crutches. Though we do not for a moment
question the antiquity of this luxury, yet even we in our
poverty can boast of older wine than that. The reader may,
perhaps, be curious to know what kind it is. Elder, to be
sure.

Strange Delusion. — A gentleman, somewhat the worse
for a repetition of glasses, became so unsteady in his gait,
that he was straightways taken through the door of the police
prison. During his night's confinement, strange to say, "he
dreamt that he dwelt in marble halls."

The Ionic Pillar, at the corner of Nevill-street, is so
enraged at some recent insults offered it, that if you place a
thermometer five yards distant the quicksilver rises with such
force and rapidity, that the instrument is smashed to pieces
in an instaut.

Singular instance of Insanity. — A gentleman of a
peculiar cast, walking on the shore the other day, suddenly
fancied himself a bathing-machine, and seizing a fat old lady
with a parasol, who happened to be standing near, bore her
on his back into the ocean and ducked her most unmercifully.
Long and loud were the shrieks of his victim ; but he would
not stir an inch until the horse was yoked to him, beneath the
arms, when he was dragged on shore. The gentleman looked



116 EPITOME OP THE VILLAGE NEWS.



as placid as ever ; but, alas, the lady ! — she blushed so vio-
lently, that her dress, which was only of a pink colour, changed
into a deep red. We hope by this time, like Lundyfoot's
snuff, she is Jiigh-dried.

Shellwork. — So exquisitely beautiful and ingenious is
the shellwork at the Repository, that four crustaceous dwellers
of the sea left their homes last week to look at them. The
visiters consisted of an oyster, a muscle, a cockle, and a peri-
winkle. The fair proprietress must, no doubt, have been
much astonished to see them enter her premises and inquire
for apartments. The oyster declared that he would willingly
leave his native home to dwell in such a paradise ; the muscle
said he was brawny enough without salt water, and that it
would warm the cocldes of his heart to live there ; the cockle
swore by his beard that he was so overjoyed he could not
stand, and tumbled over, offering his useless pins t0 ^ e
feeble periwinkle ; but the latter gentleman politely declined
them, saying he had no wish to be stuck upon such things.

Miss , however, with her customary kindness and

urbanity, assured them that the apartments were bespoken ;
when the rueful company quitted the establishment to retrace
their footsteps to the sea. They marched off in excellent
order — the oyster walking first, the muscle next, the cockle
afterwards, and the periwinkle last. On arriving at the
corner of Nevill-street, they paused to look at the Ionic
Pillar, and were regarding it with all the admiration it so
justly merits, when a cat leaped over the pailings of Upper
Willow Cottage, and swallowed them in an instant.

We at present know a gentleman, sixty-five years of age,
so exceedingly gay and dissipated that we are shocked to see
him. He asserts, however, that " youth will have its course."
When will he die ?

Amongst the numerous communications which throng our
letter-box, with the reader's kind permission, we will subjoin
the following, which, for majesty of thought and beauty of
composition, we never saw surpassed. In mercy to the author
we conceal his name : —



EPITOME OF THE TILLAGE NEWS. 117



" LINES BY A MAN IN LOYE.
" I saw a girl on the Promenade,

And thought I should like to speak to her,
Bat blush' d so much I'm sure no ox

Could ever have look'd clumsier.

" I thought if I but knew her name

A letter I might say I'd got ;
And perhaps my figure might have induced her,

If she was single, to change her lot.

" If she's gone back no longer I'll star,

But hunt her till I meet with her.
My heart is broke I I'll either die,

Or be off to the Peninsula !"

We wish to goodness he would either do one or the other, and
not bother us any more. We've heard from him three times.

MEDICAL ADVICE.

We have this week received numerous communications from
various parts requesting our advice in several diseases. We
therefore proceed to answer them : —

Shrieker. — You say that you are affected with the gout, '
and that the pain in the great toe is enough to distract you.
Cut it off.

Expecter. — Your grandfather, we understand, is extremely
feeble, and on the verge of the grave. Push him in.

Mater. — You inform us you have tried everything, but
cannot cure your child of the hooping-cough. Take it to see
the Ojibbeway Indians, when the cough- whoop will change
into a war-whoop ; let it then 'list for a drummer, and have
done with it.

Mourner. — You are dreadfully low in spirits. Go up in
a balloon ; it may propably raise them.

Slasher. — You say you are troubled with hypochondriaisra,
and contemplate cutting your throat. Do it effectually.

Ruby. — You complain that your child has got the scarlet
fever. What on earth more do you want ? It's as pretty a
colour as the child could wish for.

Mottle. — The eruption you speak of we do not understand.
You had better apply to Mount Vesuvius or iEtna, who are
skilled in such diseases.



118 EPITOME OP THE VILLAGE NEWS.



Shiver. — We are sorry you have got cold. Keep yourself
warm in future.

Warbler. — You complain bitterly of a singing in your
head. Wrap your feet in a ballad ; it may probably draw
the singing downwards.

Limper. — The bunions you speak of are no doubt trouble-
some. Swallow the " Pilgrim's Progress."

To Mothers in general. — W T hen your children are very
cross, we beseech you not to torment the poor little sufferers by
Godfrey's Cordial or Infants' Preservative; you had better
pickle them at once. The safest and most effectual plan we
know of is to place it upon a very uneasy seat with many
projections and angles on it; the child will cry lustily for two
minutes ; you then remove it and place it on a beautiful
downy pillow, when the sudden transition from pain to ease
will quieten it immediately. This is a simple remedy, and
deserves a trial. We recommend it because we know it to be
effectual. The child is good in mere gratitude for the relief;
if not, it is unworthy of you, and the sooner you throw it
in the water-tub the better.

We shall proceed to answer the other interrogatories next
week.

TO THE METROPOLITAN EDITORS,

Gentlemen — In answer to yours of the 17th instant, we
regret to announce that the Overland Mail has not yet reached
us, but we are expecting it every day, either by way of Euxton
or St. Helen's, as everything appears to us to come that road.
Upon the arrival of the despatches, after duly perusing the
contents, we shall forward them to you, in order to satisfy
the anxiety of your numerous readers.

We remain, gentlemen, yours, very superior,

The Southport Visiter.

Saturday, July 19, 1845.



FOURTH WEEK.
A disturbance of a rather serious character took place near



EPITOME OF THE VILLAGE NEWS. 119



Blundeli's Buildings amongst the band which paraded our
village on Tuesday last. The big drum, either through over-
excitement or accident, thought proper to make a stroke with
his baton at the head of the trombone, declaring that as one
was as empty as the other, it was immaterial which he struck ;
whilst the trombone, not liking to look behind, and wishing
to retaliate on some one, pushed the tube of his instrument
into the ear of the French horn who walked before him, aver-
ring that as he had no ear for music, he might do equally as
well without it. The French horn swore, and said he'd be
bloived (which, by the by, was more than his instrument
could be) if he'd stand it ; he declared he never knew a more
brazen thing in his life, and appealed to the bassoon, who
tried to be instrumental in restoring peace, but failing in the
attempt, the clarionet squeaked out for a policeman. The
discord was at its height — in vain Mr. Brown's very eloquent
parrot called out, " Keep off the wall !" and " Get off with
you" — the war raged hotter and hotter, when a policeman,
furious as a tiger, was seen running to the scene of action.
The shrewd band, however, remembering that " music hath
charms to soothe the savage breast," struck up " See ! the
conquering hero comes," when the man became as docile as
a lamb, and marched by the side of them, no doubt ima-
gining himself Sir Charles Shaw or the Duke of Wellington.

Theatrical Intelligence. — The manager of the
" Theatre, Southport," has, we understand, entered into an
engagement with Mr. Macready and Miss Helen Faucit for a
limited number of nights, yet he is not quite certain when
they will arrive ; but most likely, as soon as they come. Mr.
Macready will make his first appearance in the character of
Hamlet, and the most dramatical pig in the village is to take
the part of the ghost, for the very obvious reason that it
" can a tail unfold."

So powerful and strong is the gunpowder tea in the esta-
blishment of Mr. K , that in the event of any serious war

taking place it will be at once adopted by the British navy.

The Ionic Pillar.— With respect to this beautiful piece
of architecture, we regret to state, in answer to numerous



120 EPITOME OF THE VILLAGE NEWS.



inquiries, that we cannot satisfactorily trace its origin. We
have read of many pillars : there was the Pillar of Salt in
Sodom ; the Pillar of Fire in the Wilderness ; the Trajan
Pillar at Rome ; Nelson's Pillar in London ; and all we can
say is, that there is the Ionic Pillar at the corner of Nevill-
street. We believe also that many marble pillars are to be
seen in Greece, particularly near to Corinth, but they lie
horizontally, like the debris of mouldered palaces ; and as
the tourist sits to rest on them, and muses on their faded
grandeur, in like manner, long after our poor clay is con-
signed to its primeval dust, some foreign wanderer will sit on
the Ionic Pillar, as it lies near Mr. Welsby's office, and
exclaim, " On this great monument once stood the form
of Major-General Jump or Lord Lieutenant Rigby !" — little
dreaming that tea-kettles and pagodas were once in contem-
plation.

A most respectable gentleman (who, we are sorry to say, is
very mad indeed) walking up Sea-bank-road, the other day,
had the misfortune to be bitten by a dog. Now, which will
have the hydrophobia, should it supervene? We should be
glad to have this query answered.

So delightful and sweet are the veal pies in the establish-
ment of Mrs. F , that two calves entered the premises,

the other day, to look at them. The senior calf was asto-
nished to find the flesh of his ancestors so honourably interred,
arid the junior one confessed that he was no cow-ard, and
would willingly die to be consigned to the family vault; whilst
the elder concluded the subject by saying that he would not
mince the matter, but there and then enter into the pie,

and not look crusty on the subject. Mrs. F , however,

with her usual sweetness of expression and willingness to
please, assured them that it was a tender point, and they
had better think more on the subject ; they accordingly
assented, leaving their cards, and informing her that at any
time they were ripe and ready for the sacrifice.

The Life Boat. — The capabilities of thi3 magnificent
boat were tested on Wednesday morning last. She lay
majestically on the water, cocking her two noses up as if they



EPITOME OF THE VILLAGE NEWS. 121



wanted blowing. She reminded us forcibly of a human being.
Her heart was the captain, which is made of oak ; her nerves
were the ropes, which were well braced up ; her lungs were in
the seats, and were well inflated; her windpipe was the mast ;
and her stomach was the locker, which was well filled with
provisions, and no doubt pretty well digested ; her keel was
the spine, with the ribs attached to it, not one of which was
fractured. Her complexion, we thought, was rather sickly ;
but as she had been laid up a long time by disease, we are not
so much astonished. We understand, however, she bears an
excellent colour at the mast-head. A numerous party of
individuals filled her with water, and tried to sink her, but it
would not go down with her ; she nearly capsized them all,
and the saucy hussy, impudently putting her anchor to her
nose, insinuated, " Don't you wish," &amp;c, and rode away in
triumph to her home. We beg to compliment Lieutenant
Kellock on the very able and seaman-like manner in which he
has completed her ; and if ever grim death should meet him
on the ocean wave, may the boat he has so fondly dwelt upon
appear to save him.

So remarkably fine has been the growing zceather of late,

that Mr. on rising the other morning discovered

that all his beautiful little watches had sprung up into young
clocks.



MEDICAL ADVICE.

To the correspondents who remained unanswered last week,
we tender the following remarks : —

Dolor. — You inform us you can find no remedy for the
tic doloreux. You had better go and stay at the Clifton Arms,
in Lytham ; you will have no tick whatever there.

Pimple. — The stye upon your eye-lid is beneath our notice.
We advise you to apply to a pig, who is more accustomed to
such things.

Rash. — We are sorry to hear your eldest child has got the
chicken-pox. It is certainly a fowl disease. You had better
consult a hen upon the subject, and we will lay you a couple
of eggs the child recovers.



122 EPITOME OF THE TILLAGE NEWS.



Avis. — We understand your child has got the thrush. So
much the better : " a bird in the hand is worth two in the
bush. ,,

Pompous. — You tell us that a great deal of proud flesh is
growing on the wound you lately received. You had better
humble yourself as much as possible.

Cripple. — You are afflicted with a stiffness in the knee.
Take it to, a, free-and-easy club.

Sttjltus. — You tell us you are labouring under the brain
fever. We very much doubt it.

Puppy. — You wish to make us believe you are short-sighted.
It's all my eye. You want to wear an eye-glass.

Gruff. — We recommend you to mend your orthography
a little more. We don't know what you mean by saying you
have a horseness. If so, you had better swallow a jackass.

Reeler. — You need not complain so much about the
swimming in your head ; you will always be able to keep it
above ivater.

Buoy. — You request to know what are the best means to
be adopted in cases of drowning. The best plan is to get the
person out of the water as speedily as possible.

Should any more questions be put to us, we shall be most
happy to answer them next week, as we are extremely anxious
to mitigate the sufferings of our fellow-creatures.

The writer of this intelligence begs to state, that, having to
leave Southport by the Liverpool mail in time to see a friend
hung in London, he is not able to write any more.



Saturday, July 26, 1845.



FIFTH WEEK.



On Saturday last, just about dinner hour, a very startling
announcement occasioned the public to rest upon their knives
and forks, and fly with loaded mouths up the steps of the



EPITOME OF THE VILLAGE NEY.'S. 123



lodge on the Promenade " for the low charge of one penny."
It was to witness the " wonder of the world" — not the Great
Wizard of the North, but the Great Britain steam-ship, which
was about to perform (we trust not for the last time) in this
country. The exhibition, we understand, did not take so well
as was expected, the stage being situated rather too distant
from the audience ; the manager, however, very kindly con-
sented to give glasses round ; but even this failed to bring up
the spirit of the piece. The whole of the performance was
for the benefit of the proprietor, who, being a clever actor,
would no doubt meet with the reward he merits.

Literary Review.— Ablution ; or, the Bather's Ma-
nual. By Demosthenes Jump. London : Longman, Rees,
Orme, Brown, Green, and Longmans. — In our notice of this
work, it is not our object to criticise what is really meritorious,

for certainly there are many passages of excellent conception
for which we give him all due praise ; but we regret that we
should be compelled to differ in toto with the system which
he advocates in bathing. We will just quote a few sentences
at random. Tn vol. X., page 1962, he thus writes : — " The
machine door being thrown open, you at once seize the lady,
and souse her over head." Now, we confess, this is not ac-
cording to our ideas of bathing. To seize a lady implies a
roughness that even the sea itself could not equal ; but to souse
her overhead is barbarous. Jump ought to know this. The
mode to be adopted is, to assist the lady from the machine as
though she were stepping from her carriage, and having taken
her hand or hands with a gentle yet determined pressure, you
suffer the lady to fall back as in the act of swooning. Her
heart then beats with the liveliest pleasure, which will be per-
ceptible through the blue flannel gown. We contend, sir,
that you have no right whatever to interfere with the lady's
head ; it is her pleasure (not yours) whether she suffers her
beautiful hair to be defiled by salt water or not ; the chances
are that she will ; and it is then that visions of sweetest water
nymphs or naiads will float before her, and she will lay upon
the water like an ocean child. It is thus you should proceed.
Jump then goes on to say that " When she has done bathing,



124 EPITOME OF THE VILLAGE NEWS.



she is to be put into the machine, and rubbed well, and to
drive on" Now, this is truly horrible ! The only idea we can
associate with it is that of a horse in the stable under the
hostler's hands. Jump is very much at fault here — very. To
rub a lady ! He might as well talk of scrubbing one ! The
mode of adoption is, to first assist her in ascending the steps
of the machine — not to put her in, as you would an old coat
into a drawer, or something of that kind — but having seen
her safely enclosed, the female attendant receives her with
open arms, gently wiping away the briny drops, which seem
sorrowful to leave her, and then encasing her in a delicious
warm blanket, which has been so preserved around a metallic
vessel of boiling water; the warmth of the surface instantly
returns ; the lady comfortably finishes her toilet, as in her own
tiring-room, and then insinuates, by a gentle knock, that she is
prepared to be drawn from the watery element. This is the
correct mode of proceeding. In the last place Jump says —
" Let her then take two hours of brisk exercise" Detestable!
Had he been speaking of a donkey, he could not have articu-
lated coarser language. A lady to take brisk exercise ! —
revolting! No, sir! On alighting from the machine, the
lover, with smiling features and extended arms, is there to
meet her ; they pace the shore in sweet converse ; the heart
beats with rapture ; the beautiful warm glow of an equal cir-
culation irradiates the countenance ; and, however serious may
have been the disease, a permanent recovery is the result. We
consider these extracts sufficient proof of our assertions.

Education. — The midsummer vacation being now over,
and the fairies having done with the Ionic Pillar, we beg most
respectfully to announce that our " Academy for the Educa-
tion of Young Ladies" is now open. It is held at the corner
of Nevill-street, generally after midnight, as silence is con-
sidered more conducive to study. Having already been
favoured with the care of several delightful young pupils, we
will at once call our class together, and commence our even-
ing's lesson with the " History of England " :— My dearest
young pupils, in laying before your eyes the deeds and actions
of your forefathers— (Silence, ladies!)— it is my intention,



EPITOME OF THE VILLAGE NEWS. 125



first, to throw the Saxons and Danes overboard entirely, as
being unnecessary to the thread of my discourse — (No, Miss
Ringlet ; I do not mean sewing thread, but the connection of
events) — and I shall, therefore, first speak of William the
Conqueror. (Miss Giggle, do lift your frock more over your
shoulders, and sit straight.) Now, between you and I and
the Pillar, William was not exactly what he should be. What
I have to instil into your young minds is, that he was a foreign
invader from Normandy, who, having killed Harold at the
battle of Hastings, was crowned king of England. (No, Miss
Prim ; Harold was not a donkey ; you are thinking of Albert.
Do pay a little more attention.) He speedily reduced all his
subjects to submission, and, fancying himself secure, went
back to enjoy himself on the Continent. (Miss Hairpin, what
space of time do you generally occupy in blowing your nose ?
You're a disturbance to the whole class.) But, my sweetest
of pupils, the peace of poor William was but of short duration.
(No — not something like the holidays, Miss Slink.) He had
three sons — Robert, William, and Henry; and Robert was
called Curthose, from the shortness of his legs. (No, Miss
Quiz ; it is impossible for me to explain why his legs were
short, any more than I can explain why yours are long.)
But certain it is, that his sons rebelled against him, and
filled his last days with bitterness. (When I say "bitter-
ness," Miss Ringlet, I do not make reference to chamomile
tea, as you seem to think, but to trouble and anxiety.) Now,
Robert's legs being very short, he was continually annoyed by
his brothers, who took a delight in teasing him, in the same
manner as you tease Miss Bristle for having a moustache on
her upper lip — (No, Miss Bristle, I do not mean to infer that
you want shaving. Don't give yourself so many airs) — and
one day, whilst playing together, they took it into their heads
to throw water upon Robert as he passed through the court
on leaving their apartment. (Dear ! — Miss Ringlet, what a
girl you are ! How can I tell whether it was Eau de Cologne
or Lavender Water ! You're the most wicked girl in the
class ! do sit still.) Now, this put Bob into a terrible rage ;
he drew his sword, and, chasing them up stairs, swore he
would be revenged. Even his father (the king) could not



126 EPITOME OF THE VILLAGE NEWS.



reconcile him ; he seemed bent upon mischief. (Bless me,
Miss Curling, how ridiculous you are ! When I say "mischief,"
of course I do not mean pinning a dishcloth to his father's
coat, or pulling his chair away when he sat down.) No ; he
actually withdrew that very night to Rouen with several con-
federates, hoping to surprise the castle, but was defeated by
the governor. (I saw you winking, Miss Flash ; you forfeit
five tickets.) But to proceed. This fiery fellow Robert
raised a complete rebellion in France against his father ;
and what made the matter worse, was, that his own mother
backed him on to do so. (Mamma is certainly more proper
in domestic life, Miss Lovely ; but in warfare we generally
use more powerful language.) William (the king) therefore
thought it best to govern, which he did, and soon quelled the
rebellion, but was exceedingly wrath on hearing, when poorly
one day, that Philip, the king of France, had said that he
only lay in bed in consequence of being so very stout. (No,
Miss Dunce — F does not stand for Philip, but P.) He (the
king) therefore sent a note to Philip, intimating that he should
soon be up, and that the next time he went to church he
would raise such a number of tapers as would set the kingdom
of France in a flame. (Fire-engines ! What nonsense, Miss
Waterhouse ; you ought to be aware there were none then ;
and do keep your fingers out of your ears.) He was as good
as his word. He recovered, and took the town of Mante,
burning all the houses and villages without opposition. But,
my dear young ladies, " in the midst of life we are in death ;"
— (No, Miss W T hitlow ; the dead man did not say so to the
worms. Wherever did you pick up such vulgarity?) — for his
horse, placing his fore feet on some hot ashes, plunged so vio-
lently that poor Billy was completely pommelled, and made
himself scarce in consequence. He died September the 9th,
1087. Now, what on earth occasion is there for you to set up
a round of applause ? The circumstance of a man's death
should make you weep. (No, Miss Brine; not crocodile's
tears.) And who, I should like to know, has pinned my
coat-tail to the chair ? It's that girl Ringlet, She's the most
impudent hussy in the whole class ; but I'll be even with her
some time. Well, now, my dear young companions, as day-*



EPITOME OF THE VILLAGE NEWS, 127



light is almost breaking, you had better go home. (What !—
you don't want to go ?) Indeed you'd better, as I shall have
to walk you all down to the shore in the morning, rank and
file ! Good night ! good night ! We shall meet again next
week,

Ionic Academy, corner of Nevill-street, Terms per week,
without board — Threepence*



THEATRE ROYAL, SOUTHPORT.

The public is respectfully informed that on Monday next
her Majesty's servants will perform an entirely new melo-
drama, (in twelve acts,) of overwhelming interest, entitled

THE BOMBAY BANDIT'S BLACK WIFE;

OR,

The AngeVs WhUpdr,

written by the late Courvoisier, the murderer of Lord William
Russell, the night before his execution. Principal characters
by the principal performers,

Count Karvengneif . . Mr. Augustus Leopold Montague,
Peitchforcq. . . .Mr. Lindsay Courtnay Camperdown.
At the fall of the curtain, Mr. Nightingale will sing " The
Hailstone Chorus," assisted by the whole strength of the
company.

Song — "Don't I love my mother !". .Miss Dove.
The Highland Fling by Mr. MacDougal, who will throw a
child with superhuman force amongst the audience without
injuring it.

The whole to conclude with the favourite farce of

THE BLUE-EYED MULATTO;

Or, the Squinting Spirit of the Deep Blue Waters.

The proceeds are for the benefit of the Rural Sports, which
will take place whenever they begin.

Prices of admission — Optional ; but no credit given.
Saturday, August 2, 1845.



128 EPITOME OF THE TILLAGE NEWS.



SIXTH WEEK.

The Promenade. — We are almost ashamed that so many
weeks have passed over without once saying a word respecting
this splendid marine lounge. Its beauties are infinite. The
visiter to these shores will be gratified the most by first in-
quiring for the Ionic Pillar, which in itself is sufficient to com-

pensate for the expense of a three weeks* residence in South-
port. On arriving at the Pillar, the visiter will be struck at
once with the architectural beauties it presents, and at the
same time Nevill-street, with all its glittering palaces, mosques,
domes, and minarets, bursts upon him like eternal Rome.
There Albert House erects its proud head towards heaven, and
Hampson's Terrace, like some vast fortress, bidding defiance
to a world of armies, lies bathed at sunset in the slanting
beams, as would some haughty chieftains in a flood of glory.
Arabian steeds, in costliest trappings and richly caparisoned,
prancing and pirouetting with their riders, ravish the be-
wildered eye ; whilst collateral streets of marble mansions (and
one the dwelling of the CaBsars), almost erase from memory
your intended visit to the Promenade. On arriving, half-
enchanted, at the end of Nevill-street, a stupendous obelisk,
of the Doric order, reveres the memory of the Trajan Pillar,
or the monument in London — so vast in altitude that the
higher you look upwards for the apex, the less likely you will
be to see it. It is here, however, that Nevill-street branches
into two roads — the left conducting you past the Salthouserian
Catacombs, where spirits are said to meet; which having
passed, you walk beneath the Bridge of Sighs, and the un-
bounded ocean, with countless ships and anchored navies, for
the defence of Meols, burst upon you, depriving you of what
little recollection you possessed of your mortality. We advise
the tourist, however, here to pause, and cast one lingering
look at Nevill-street, and, whilst he contemplates its ma-
jesty in rapture, the mournful recollection still breathes forth
the truth that —



EPITOME OF THE VILLAGE NEWS. 129



The cloud-capt towers— the gorgeous palaces —
The solemn temples — the great globe itself—
Yea, all who it inherit, shall dissolve,
And, like the baseless fabric of a vision,
Leave not a wreck behind !— Shakspere.

After fully meditating on a fact so sorrowful, he will then pass
on, and. take the dexter path, and after traversing a small
ascent, the summit finds him on the Promenade. Oh, how
glorious ! There stands the box of Caesar ! the mighty Colos-
seum !

"While stands the box of Caesar, Southport stands !— Byron.
How vast its huge octagonal dimensions! How awful the
gigantic ball which crowns it ! St. Paul's comes back to us ;
We half inquire if love or money will admit us. We enter ;
and the antiquarian spirit swells within us.

Treasures immense— beyond earth's richest gems !— Jump.
There stands the trumpet kings might tremble at ! — the mighty
mouthpiece rescued from the field of Blenheim ! — the ancient
tinder-box Darius lit his pipe with! — the emancipating
cheques which free the day ! — the everlasting pennyworth ! —
the flaunting flag, furled up,

Which braved a thousand years

The battle and the breeze.— Song.

There, from the fretted ceiling, hangs a hat — glazed, bright,
and beautiful ; the hat which once adorned Pope Gregory
VI. Around its walls antique inscriptions of the richest elo-
quence bespeak the wonders of departed genius j and whilst
the gazer rests upon the desk wherein repose the archives of
the ancients, the eye perceives, through countless panes of
orbicular stained grass, the interminable range of ground for
mortal pastime. On leaving the Caesarian Colosseum, the
Public Baths, with their stupendous sun-dial standing forth
in beautiful relief, engage every sparkle of the eye ; " the
fountains of ablution!" — those waters, so immaculate! —
Virginian streams ! —

Angels might wash their snowy wings more pure!— Ball.
Rich colonnades, and countless pilasters — cupolas — Hespe-
rian walks, on which rise up those thrones of grandeur for the
weary ; the great Ark itself might have cast anchor here.



130 EPITOME OF THE VILLAGE NEWS.



Where is Mount Ararat now ? What got the Ark ? We have
no record ! Perchance it hath grown modern, and is here :
the rays of ancient glory still lingering on the Promenade !

Whatever became of the wreck of the Ark ?

She was run on the shore, or went down in the dark. — Rigby.

But the life-boat got out ; she was damaged so ill

That Lloyd could not sell her, and here she is still !— Bolton.

And thus is traced the genealogy of the Baths. But to our
task. On turning to the left, the palace of Victoria rears its
head ; its alabaster walls look pure and lovely in the sunlight;
there, in Olympic casks, the nectar of the gods reposes, and
Manchesteric, Boltonic, and Wiganic heroes go to quaff it.
A little further to the left, kind reader, and a range of sombre
and lugubrious-looking mansions take your notice : your
heart half fails you, so terrific is their frown. These are the
work of Pluto ; their portals standing forth in flames of fire;
the dungeons of Hades — dark, gloomy, melancholy. The dog
Cerberus sits near them with three heads, and his body is
covered in a terrible manner with snakes instead of hairs.
This is the porter, begotten of Echidna by the giant Typhon,
and who is described by Virgil and Horace. Avoid these
places, dearest reader, and pass onward to the house of
Claremont.

There Charlton lifts his haughty head to heaven. — Albert.
Here lie the luxuries of life — the paradise of revelry — the
generous port — the charitable sherry. It is here Prince Rim-
mer took his quarters, and, fixing high his standard on the
battlements, defied the King of Lytham.

Hail, glorious Rimmer of Meolic birth !— Milton.
One mighty edifice remains, and we have done — the Lodge :
the crown-piece of the southern terminus. There, steps of
tesselated workmanship, like an Egyptian Pyramid, conduct
you to the summit ; beneath you, in the setting sun, lie
stretched the wearied warriors by their chargers, reposing in
glory after the many engagements of the day ; whilst girls of
most angelic loveliness hang over them. The Mount, upon
your left, delights you with its rich Masonic beauty ; and to
the right the concave slope (on which you may not trespass),
embellished by a vista of connecting chains and pillars, shows



EPITOME OP THE VILLAGE NEWS. 131



forth in stern defiance the frontiers of the Promenade. And
now, kind reader, as Alexander wept when he had no more
worlds to conquer, prepare your tears for the announcement,
that when your eyes have gazed upon these scenes of grandeur,
you have no more scenes of grandeur in this wide world to
behold.

Awful and Terrific Insurrection of Bells. — The
greatest excitement now prevails amongst the different bells
and belfries, on account of the last bulletin issued respecting
the health of Peter's bell, which is not so encouraging - } for,
owing to the very paralysing stroke which it has lately receiv-
ed, inflammation of a very angry character has supervened;
the consequence of which is, that adhesions have formed be-
tween the clapper and the sides of the bell ; and it is now
tongue-tied. An operation is thus rendered necessary ; and,
however formidable it may be, we understand many sharp
blades will undertake to do it. Although the bell is seriously
indisposed, it has sworn to be revenged, and will arise on
Wednesday next, well muffled up, and call on its friend the
Old Church bell, and there take tea, when merry peals of
laughter will echo through the belfry and delight the village
belles, who, no doubt, will be listening with attentive ears.
The music will be irresistible. The bells of the Catholic
Chapel were politely invited, but declined the invitation,
stating that as they had no apartments to which they could
invite them back again, they had better stay at home, but
expressed their determination of chiming in with the music
of the evening. The New Church bell can scarcely hold its
tongue, declaring that no gag shall be put upon it. It swears
it is a bell of metal (which we believe), and that in the event
of any insult being offered to its friend St. Peter's bell, it will

strike the offender to the ground, and applaud it to the echo.
Now, there's some spirit in this bell, which we hope the rest
will emulate ; and we believe a general rising is to take place
on Wednesday evening next, when the signal will be given by
the Old Church bell ; Peter will then rush forward ; the
Catholic and New Church bells will join him ; all the bells of
the different hotels will press onward to the charge; the



132 EPITOME OF THE TILLAGE NEWS.



boots', the hostler's, chambermaid's, waiter's, &amp;c., &amp;c. —
the
bells of all the lodging-houses will ring their 'larums in the
field ; and every knocker in the place will pour forth its thun-
der of artillery at the enemy. A detachment of the 15th In-
fantry, armed with timbrels and tiiangles, is expected to
oppose them ; but this, with dreadful slaughter, will be swept
away. Kettles, frying*pans, saucepans, and gridirons, are
visible upon the heights of Churchtown, Lytham, Blackpool,
Fleetwood, and far beyond them; hammers are heard, with
furious clangour, resounding on the anvils to be prepared for
action ; clocks (American and French) are striking six-and-
thirty hours a-day in paroxysms of revenge; trombones, bas-
soons, French horns, and Jews' harps are practising the sound
of bells ; ladies' fingers, like wildest lightning, are rattling
over the keys of their pianos for the charge ; water-spouts are
trickling their contents into the tub to imitate a tinkling ; the
Ojibbeway Indians are expected with their yells ; and such a
brazen rising will be seen as never more, we hope, will devas-
tate the village. We trust that the slaughter may not be so
great a3 is anticipated 5 but so grievous are the injuries of the
bells, we fear but little quarter will be given. On that evening
we advise our friends to keep within doors, or, at all events,
at a respectable distance ; and to warn them of all danger we
announce that it is to take place at half-past seven o'clock
precisely, when the armies will be drawn up in front of the

Rotunda, and what will follow we shudder to . But

let us draw the curtain.

Education. — The moon is up ; the stars shine bright and
beautiful ; the inhabitants are fast asleep ; the donkey-boy
hath sought his rest ; the Pillar smiles upon us ; and now, my
sweetest and most promising young ladies, we will call our
class together. Believe me, I have thought much about you
since we last met ; I have treasured the remembrance of you
all with a father's love ; and now I will endeavour, with your
fair permission, to instil once more into your juvenile minds
those principles of morality which I so strictly advocate.
(Miss Ringlet, you never saw me winking at a donkey-girl;
it was the Pillar. I abominate such rudeness. You are



EPITOME OF THE VILLAGE NEWS. 133



really too bad.) You will remember, then, that we last week
buried William the Conqueror. ( You never saw the funeral,
Miss Crape ! Well, I drew no inference that you did. My
meaning is that our discourse of him is finished.) We will now
speak of his son and successor, William Rufus, who was so
called from the colour of his hair., (No, Miss Ruby— I do
not mean to make any allusion whatever to yours, though I
must confess that, considering the long time you have been
in Southport, it should be sandy now.) Concerning William,
I shall say but little. He was a poor, weak monarch, and
did not behave well to his brother Robert. (Yes — he with
the short legs, Miss Ringlet. I am glad you pay a little
more attention.) The principal feature in the reign of Rufus
was the projection of the first crusade by Peter — (No, not
Peter the Bellman, Miss Tinkle) — Peter the Hermit, a native
of Amiens. (Amiens is not in North Meols, Miss Atlas, but
in France.) He made a pilgrimage to the Holy Sepulchre at
Jerusalem, and beheld with indignation how the Christians
were treated by the Infidels. (Miss Pallor, do hold your
head up. What ? You don't feel quite well 1 No wonder •
that's the third pound of gelatine lozenges you've eaten this
week.) Thousands flocked to his standard — (No ; by " flock"
I do not mean sheep, Miss Ringlet. How satirical you grow !
I mean warriors of all descriptions)— and sold their estates to
join the enterprise; and William (the king), I can assure
you, made a capital thing by it. (Yes, quite equal to railway
speculations, Miss Train.) However, a very unhappy ch>
cumstance put an end to his life ; he was shot by an arrow —
(No; not from Cupid, Miss Love (you make me blush!), but
from Sir Walter Tyrrel) — whilst hunting in the New Forest,
which, glancing from a tree, struck the king in the heart,
and he dropped dead instantly. (Why did it serve him right,
Miss Flint ? He couldn't help his hair being red. If you
don't fancy men of his description, others may. Oh ! oh !
By Jupiter ! Confound it ! Who, for goodness sake, has
stuck a pin into my chair ? I'll not sit down again. Oh ! if
I could but get hold of that girl Ringlet, peeping round the
corner of Upper Willow Cottage, wouldn't I give it her !)
But come — we must not let daylight find us idle ; and we



134 EPITOME OF THE TILLAGE NEWS.



will now gallop on to Henry the First — (No, not at the rate
of sixpence an hour, Miss Hunt) — who was the late king's
brother. He was called Beauclerc, from his great attention to
learning. (Like you, indeed, Miss Ringlet! Well, I like
that !) He married Matilda, who was bred in a convent, and
was very fond of novels. (Jack Sheppard! Who ever heard
of such absurdity, Miss Blueskin ? The work is not five
years old yet.) She was the niece of Edgar Atheling ; and
by this union the Saxon part of the community were recon-
ciled to each other. However, Robert (his brother) grew
quarrelsome again — (Yes — the short-legged gentleman, Miss
Ringlet) — for which he was imprisoned twenty-eight years in
the Castle of Glamorgan. (Don't put your face quite so close
to mine, Miss Lovely ; it might be dangerous, especially
when I tell you that poor Robert was deprived of his sight by
a red-hot copper basin being applied to his eyes — (Yes, Miss
Green — a green shade would certainly have been better) — to
atone for which his brother founded the Abbey of Reading.
(No, Miss Quiz ; it was not the property of Miss S — f — d.)
At last, however, he died broken-hearted in consequence of
his son being shipwrecked on his passage home from Harfleur,
where he went to be recognised by the barons. (Why didn't
they get the life-boat out ? Miss Buoy, you'd better ask Miss
Lloyd; and do leave off biting your nails.) A butcher
of Rouen was the only person who escaped. (No, Miss Tease ;
it was not Mr. D — h — t, or B — n — 1 either, but a Frenchman.
Miss Cross, do not sit that way, with your legs tucked up
like a tailor. When speaking of kings and queens you ought
to feel a little more majesty about you.) Fitz-Stephen, the
captain, swam up to the butcher, and inquired if the prince
lived. (Dear me ! The idea of a man presenting his card,
Miss Chesterfield ! How could he in such a critical situation ?)
On hearing, however, that the prince had perished, Fitz-
Stephen exclaimed, " Then I will not outlive him V 9 and sank
to the bottom. (I know that you did not expect he sank to
the top, Miss Ringlet. How quick yoa grow !) The poor
king never smiled again, but died shortly afterwards at St.
Dennis, from eating too freely of lampreys. ( What are lam-
preys, did you say, Miss Quiz ? A dish he was particularly



EPITOME OF THE VILLAGE NEWS. 135



fond of; and that's all I know about them. I caught you
winking, Miss Eyelid. You forfeit ten tickets. Who's stolen
my pocket-handkerchief? Oh! here it is, pinned to my
coat. Ringlet again !) The next monarch who ascended the
throne was Stephen, and he was a mere jackass; and that's
all you need know about him. After him came Henry II.,
who was a very fine fellow. (I don't know, Miss Bristle,
whether he had whiskers or not ; neither have I heard that
he wore an eye-glass.) In his reign lived the famous Thomas-a-
Beckett, whom the king raised from a clerk in the city to
be Archbishop of Canterbury. (No, Miss Hairpin ; you
never heard of Beckett and his Cat; you are thinking of
Whittington.) He, however, became very insolent to the
king, and had his brains knocked out in consequence whilst
kneeling at the altar of St. Benedict; which brains were
picked up immediately, and are to this day preserved in the
Meolic Museum at Church town. (What's that you said, Miss
Fib ? You saw them as you passed through by the Euxton
coach ? Thank you !) Now, this murder was no doubt com-
mitted at the instigation of the king — (Where's your pocket-
handkerchief, Miss Snuffle ?) — who, fearing that his subjects
might blame him for it, commenced an expedition against
Ireland, and conquered it— -(Whatever do you mean by Paddy
Whack, Miss Whitlow ? Avoid such vulgarity !) — A.D. 1172.
But now we come to a beautiful part of the history. (Go-a-
head then ! Dear Miss Bowsprit, that's shocking — very ; but
it's just like you !) King Henry was such a nice, genteel
young man, and so attentive to the ladies, that, between you
and I and the Pillar, the ladies loved him. (I really cannot
tell the colour of his hair, Miss Quiz ; but some imagine it
to have been a blueish pink.) However, I am bound to con-
fess that he was a married man — (What ? You're not parti-
cular ? Well, I never saw such an inveterate lot in all my
life !) ; so he cut Queen Eleanor — poor thing ! — and paid his
addresses to Rosamond Clifford. Oh, such a beauty ! (Yes —
equal to Dolly Wrexford, Miss Hearty.) She was called Fair
Rosamond ; and Henry used to conceal her in a labyrinth in
Woodstock Park, in order that Eleanor might not hear of
her. (Bravo, Henry i Silence, Miss Crow ! You're not at



136 EPITOME OF THE VILLAGE NEWS.



the theatre ; and, for goodness sake, do leave your ears alone.)
However, by a singular circumstance, she discovered the
retreat. (Just sit a little farther off, ladies; I'm almost
smothered ; and, Miss Ringlet, please keep your arm off my
shoulder — will you ?) She discovered it by a clue of silk
which guided her to the very spot where poor Rosamond was
sitting — (Your back hair is all down, Miss Lock ; put it up —
will you ?) — and, holding a drawn dagger to her breast, she
made her swallow poison. Poor Rosamond ! (Wipe that
tear off your nose, Miss Brine.) Henry's sons, however,
rebelled against him — (Oh, by Hercules ! Miss Angel, you've
trod on my corn. Them little feet of yours are sharp as
razors. Just be careful — will you ?) ; and he died broken-
hearted, after doing penance for his sins, in the 58th year of
his age and the 35th of his reign : and so " the best friends
must part." (No, Miss Whitlow ; the rat did not say so to his
tail when he left it in the trap. Do avoid such vulgar similes.)
And now, for this week, we will close our studies, and go
home. What ? You want to have a lark first ? Well, sup-
pose we just ring Mr. Welsby's bell, and then fly. I'm sure
he'd never be sharp enough for such quick solicitors as you.
What ? You want to have a dance round the Pillar ? Very
well. Hush ! — what noise was that ? Oh, it's only Mr. K —
grinding his coffee ; so we'll dance to the music, and make a
Handel of him. One more turn round ; and now we're off!
Good night ! good night ! Don't forget we meet next Satur-
day ; and remember that we walk on the shore on Monday
morning at half-past eleven precisely.

Ionic Academy, corner of Nevill-street. Terms per week,
without board — Threepence.

EASY POETRY.
The night was fine ; my supper I had got,

Which did me good — and so it ought to do ;
I seiz'd my hat ; I did not care a jot

For anything — nor do I care for you ;
I went outside the gate, and look'd about —

I'd nothing else to do that I could see ;
My mother knew full well that I was out —

Or if she didn't, what was that to me ?



EPITOME OF THE VILLAGE NEWS. 137



I lean'd against the palings, I expect —

At least I mostly do— and there 1 smok'd
A mild cigar with very good effect ;

And once more down the street I think I look'd.
I heard a clock strike twelve, or something there-

About, I think. I nearly felt half dead ;
And as I couldn't find an easy-chair,

I went in-doors again ; and so— to bed.



Low and depressed in spirits, and worn out with ennui
(rather Frenchy !), we were lounging against the Ionic Pillar,
bewailing our numerous losses, and just contemplating, if a
policeman passed, whether we should be taken up for rogues
or vagabonds, when we cast our eyes upwards, and the follow-
ing lines unconsciously escaped our lips : —

Oh ! what are we doing 1 We are nearly asleep ;
We've nothing to laugh at, and yet we can't weep,
We hare neither a smile, or a tear in the eye,
And we're just in that state when 'tis better to die.

On the cold Promenade we like simpletons stand,
With our hands in our pockets, and think it so grand ;
If a ship passes by, her success we deplore,
And pray, for a change, she may come on the shore ;

(Oh ! is it not wicked such feelings to cherish ?)
But if she don't, we must most assuredly perish ;
For we've nothing to stir up the life in our hearts,
For our property lies in unsearchable parts.

For ourselves, we're the scions of Poverty's daughter,
And some cannot pay for the rent of their water ;
Yet we talk of regattas, and such things as these
But, alas ! the subscription is not at its ease.

The fact is, for wealth we are not a good sample,
But we'd all do our best if we had our example ;
With row-boats and horses,— hurrah for the race !
Oh ! for some amusement that's worthy the place !

For ourselves, we're no adepts at boating or shipping,
But in treacle 'tis sweet to see donkey-boys dipping ;
And who would not pay for the excellent joke
To see, not a pig, but a man, in a poke ?



138 EPITOME OF THE VILLAGE NEWS.



Besides, ev'ry mind on the subject now made is ;
We should meet with the smiles of the sweetest of ladies ;
One night from " the fairies " we managed to pillage
They would all do their best for the sport of the village.

We're sure we should have, as the old saying goes,
Both rings on our fingers and bells on our toes,
Fal lal de ral lal ! My cigar is just out !
Why, J , what have we been singing about ?

But as neither my friend nor I could tell, we went away home.



Saturday, August 9, 1845,



SEVENTH WEEK.

Camera Obscura. — The wonders of light and shade are
powerfully exhibited in this most ingeniously-constructed
optical illusion. It not only faithfully depicts the passing
scenes of Southport, but likewise those of Lytham, Blackpool,
Fleetwood, and Cheltenham — particularly the latter place.
We entered it the other day, beneath the favouring auspices of
Mr. Lawson, and the first sight we beheld was Jump in the
act of sousing a lady overhead, according to the system recom-
mended in his last new work ; but we were delighted to see
he had perused our notice of it, for he used a gracefulness in
the performance never seen before. The next we beheld was
Bolton, with a face whiter than his own vans, flying, like
Mazeppa, on a bony bathing-horse to rescue a lady from a
machine, that had been inadvertently left all night at low-
water. She was rescued ; but death is preferable to serious
mutilation ; a more incomplete specimen of humanity we
never witnessed. The fishes, envious of her beauty, in the
ocean, had actually effected an entrance into the machine, and
taken off three quarters of the left leg; ditto from the right;
three fingers off the right hand (ring as well) ; ditto from the
left; half an elbow ; three quarters of a shoulder ; the whole
of the nose, and one of the eyes. Poor woman ! she is still
living, for which she is thankful, but at the same time is in-



EPITOME OF THE TILLAGE NEWS. 139



clined to the belief that sea-bathing does not agree with her.
The next was a very pleasing sight, for so magical are the
powers of the Camera, that we positively saw the inside of a
lady's heart ; and she was in love. We are therefore capable
of defining what love is. In the middle of the heart, all
amongst the auricles and ventricles, lay a little Cupid, not
bigger than your thumb nail — (pretty little fellow !) ; — he had
delicate little arrows, fine as hairs, with which he kept tick-
ling the inside of the heart, and we saw that the eyes of the
lady sparkled simultaneously. On a sudden, a gentleman of
very prepossessing aspect approached her ; when the little
Cupid sprung upon his feet, and spread his wings ! Oh, how
the heart bounded into action — we thought that every rib
would have been smashed to pieces ; the colour rose to her
cheeks ; she took the arm of the gentleman, and all the time
the little god kept fluttering his wings about, maintaining a
continued ecstacy of rapture. At last they parted ; the words
" Good bye I" escaped their lips, and little Cupid dropping
his wings, the palpitation grew more moderate; he gently
laid himself again amongst the auricles and ventricles, and
still kept on his incessant mischief of tickling the sides of the
poor heart with his hair-like arrows, and, depend upon it, he
will never quit his lodgings till he's sated with the honey-
moon, when he will flee away, and then molest some other
hapless maiden. This is love, kind reader, and you will not
find it better described by any poet in the kingdom. We then
cast our eyes towards Blackpool, and beheld a gentleman rise
from the breakfast table, with an egg in one hand, and a piece
of toast in the other ; he stepped into a machine from his own
lodgings, and was immediately surrounded by the ocean;
after finishing his breakfast up to the neck in water, he threw
away the egg shell to the billows, and returned to his apart-
ments, evidently pleased with the diversion. At Cheltenham
we beheld a Tunbridge gentleman getting well so fast of the
gout that the paving stones were actually afraid of him ; and
a serious affray took place, near the Victoria Villa, between
him and the Highway Board, the latter declaring that they
could not keep them in repair in consequence. At Lytham
we watched an enormous sturgeon washed on shore, which



140 EPITOME OF THE VILLAGE NEWS.



was immediately opened by the fishermen, and, strange to
say, therein was found the gentleman's stays which were lately
lost, and cried by Peter the Bellman. Fleetwood was looking
particularly gay, and, to our shame be it spoken, far outstrip-
ping us. We cast one farewell look upon our own shores, but
as nothing could be seen but dogs and donkeys, gooseberries
and gauze handkerchiefs, bathing-gowns and Ormskirk gin-
gerbread, we requested Mr. Lawson to put the prices of
admission down to the repeal of the corn laws, declaring our
intention of wiping off altogether.

Preparations for the approaching Rural Sports.
— There is scarcely a pig in the Tillage with an ungreased
tail ; the vilest scum from the vilest sugar is laid aside for the
treacle dipping -, an unredeemed hat, from a Churchtown
pawnbroker, is waiting to be stuck upon a pole; every sack
is distending its calibre for the accommodation of the donkey
boys ; the lowing boats are in an uproar ; musicians are
almost bursting with wind to blow their instruments ; one poor
fellow cannot hold much longer — he's puffed to the utmost ;
donkey-girls are taking lessons in the Polka, Mazourka, Valse
a Cellarius, Valse a Deuxtems, &amp;c, to be ready for the ball ;
donkeys are put upon a ginger diet ; fireworks are ready to
explode ; and we only hope that as all things are in such a
burning state, the iron may be struck as soon as possible.

The other night a gentleman, in rather a Shaksperian
humour, honoured the theatre with his peculiar presence,
but the rain coming down heavily, he was very soon wet
through. Considering it, however, to be a part of the play,
he very good-humouredly sat still until he was washed from
his seat, when he left the place, declaring he would never go
to see another sea-piece as long as he lived.

Education. — My dear young friends, we last week spoke
of Henry II. : we have now to speak of Richard I., surnamed
Cceur de Lion, or the Lion-Hearted, and I can recommend
him to you as being a very brave and noble man. (Silence,
ladies !) He ascended the throne inflamed with a desire of
going upon the Crusade — (I think you made a remark, Miss
Ringlet. Now, do be quiet — that's a good girl ! Well, lady,



EPITOME OP THE VILLAGE NEWS. 141



if you like it better)— and entered into partnership with
Philip, King of France, for that purpose (I think your side-
comb fell upon the ground, Miss Hairpin) ; but Philip was an
invalid, and returned from the Holy Land to France for his
health. (Southport was not then known, Miss Shore, or, being
so valiant, he would no doubt have stayed at the Bold Arms.)
Still Richard went on from victory to victory, and took the
renowned city of Ascalon. (How many miles is it from
victory to victory, did you say, Miss Furlong? Whatever
number you please.) He defeated Saladin j but his army
being wasted by fatigue and famine, a truce of three years
was agreed upon. (No, Miss Prim ; there's no vulgarity in
the name of Saladin. Sarahdin would not be more correct.)
Richard consequently began to think of returning home
(Yes — no doubt his mother would be glad to see him, Miss
Pet, like yours at the holidays) ; but, poor fellow ! he got
thrown into prison in Germany by the cruel Emperor. (I'm
aware, Miss Felon, that begging is not allowed by the magis-
trates ; but that was not his crime). Now, this part of the
history is very beautiful and pathetic. (Gammon! That's
the most vulgar epithet, Miss Slang, that you could use.
You must have picked it up from the donkey-boys. Do let
me proceed.) A poor minstrel chanced to be passing the
dungeon in which Richard was confined — (No, not with a
box-organ, Miss Grinder) — and happened to play a favourite
air which was familiar to him, Richard responded to it from
within ; and thus the place of his confinement was discovered.
(Miss Ringlet, do give over twisting that hair of yours round
your finger ; I'm sure it's pretty enough without so much
attention. You wicked hussy, if you dare to wink at me

again I'll — I'll But no matter.) Upon the payment

of a very large sum of money, the brave Lion-Heart was
again restored to liberty, and nothing could exceed the joy of
the English on his return; all sorts of revelry and joy were
manifested. (Dear me ! Miss Green, do extend your views a
little further. Treacle dipping indeed ! Was it very likely
the nobility would souse their heads in it ?) Poor Richard,
however, was soon after killed by an archer whilst besieging
the Castle of Chalus, but (like his noble nature) with his



142 EPITOME OF THE VILLAGE NEWS.



dying breath he forgave the murderer. (Miss Needle, are you
aware there's a hole in your stocking ? You'd better just tie
your sandal over it.) He was succeeded by his brother John,
who was a very bad and wicked man. No, not something
like me, Miss Ringlet. I never had a pupil yet that took
such daring liberties as you. My dear girl, do behave your-
self ; indeed you have excellent abilities if you would but use
them.) He murdered his nephew Arthur, who was the lawful
heir to the crown ; and Shakspere has written a fine tragedy,
named " King John," on this circumstance. (I'm sure you
never saw it at a peep-show, Miss Fib.) It was he, however,
that signed the famous Magna Charta — (I did not say Mar-
gate Water, Miss Earwig ; you must be deaf) — which granted
to the barons and citizens greater privileges than they ever
enjoyed before. He died, however, at last — (What did you
say, Miss Ringlet ? Of course he did 7 . Well, I know that!)
— and was succeeded by his son Henry III., who was a very
weak and feeble monarch. (No, Miss Limp ; I do not mean
to infer that he walked on crutches — I speak of his intellect.)
However, in his reign magnifying glasses and magic lanterns
were invented, by Roger Bacon, the Friar — (I don't know,
Miss Quiz, whether his mother's name was Gridiron or not) ;
also cider, linen, and tapestry ; and the mariner's compass
was discovered. (Miss Mole, have you used the tweezers this
morning?) He was succeeded by his son Edward I., sur-
named Longshanks. (Now, what are you laughing at ? The
poor fellow could not help his shanks. You know very well
that shanks will vary.) He was a brave and wise king, but
cruel to the Jews ; he subdued Wales and annexed it to
England, and carried on a war in Scotland with great success.
(Well, when I came out to-night I'm sure I had a snuff-
box. That vile Ringlet !) But in this reign lived the famous
William Wallace. Now, my dear pupils, I pray you remem-
ber this man as the brightest gem in English history. With
a heroism almost incredible, he supported the fallen armies
of Scotland.) God bless me, Miss Hawful, the idea of him
fighting with an eye-glass. No ! he fought with the hearts
of his countrymen.) And, my dear and lovely companions,
whenever we part in life (for young ladies will get mar-



EPITOME OF THE VILLAGE NEWS.



143



ried !), let me entreat you to make the qualities of this man
the standard of your husbands, and I will pledge my repu-
tation that you will be happy throughout your pilgrimage
on earth, and smiles far brighter than ours will beam upon
you when you die. (Have you any nails left on your fin-
gers, Miss Lloyd?) I would not have you, however, to
condemn King Edward, for he was never cruel but from
motives of policy. He expired July the 7 th, 1307, in the 69th
year of his age and the 35th of his reign, after having added
more to the solid interests of the kingdom than any of those
who went before or succeeded him. And now, my beautiful
and very lady-like friends, we must part, for, to tell the truth,
I'm not very well to-night. (No ; Fve not been up to some-
thing, Miss Ringlet.) I think a change of air would be the
best. (Wigan, indeed! Miss Spinner; well, I like that!)
Suppose we all have donkeys and ride over to Mushroom
Cottage. (You don't know where it is, Miss Lovely ; look
about and no doubt you'll discover it.) Come, just deliver
up my pocket-handkerchief, and we'll be off. What ? You're
determined to have a walk round the reservoir ? Well, I
never heard such a strange notion in my life. Surely, when
you've been round all the poles — east, west, north, and south
— you'll be ready to go home. Well, let's be off ; and then
goodnight! My lovely and affectionate pupils, believe me,
not a minute will pass over, sleeping or waking, without
thinking of you, and I hope to meet you all next week, in
much better health than myself, at the

Ionic Academy, corner of Nevill-street. Terms per week,
without board — Threepence.



Elegance of Conversation. — We are not eaves-drop-
pers generally — it is against our nature ) but we were com-
pelled to hear the following conversation between two nurse-
girls the other evening on the Promenade : —

" Is your missus out to-night, Isabel ?"
" To be sure — she always is, Matilda."
" Where does she go to, Isabel ?"
" To the Bathing Baths, Matilda."



144 EPITOME OP THE TILLAGE NEWS.



" And don't you go with her, Isabel?"

" No ; I stop away, Matilda. The air's too cloose for me*"

" Then how, in the name of fashion, does she dry herself,
Isabel ? She's lame in both hands with a pallylitic stroke*"

" She never does dry herself, Matilda; she comes home wet."

"Wet! Isabel?"

u Dripping, Matilda !"

" Why, gracious ! How is that, Bella ?"

" She expires so much, 'Tildy*"

" Lor, Bella ! Then what do you do with her ?"

" She goes into 'sterrix."

"What is 'sterrix?"

" Fits, above a bit, 'Tildy."

" Lor, Bella ! And however does she go in 'em ?"

" We tell her she looks horrid yellow, and blue about the
mouth."

" And what then ?"

" She calls for brandy."

" Good gracious ! And what then ?"

" We give it her, and get her into bed, and let her expire
as much as she likes \ but she's as dry as a stick in five
minutes, and tells us to leave the bottle on the table and
mind our own businesses, which we do, and run at once to
the embrace of "

" Well, I never !"

" Oh, but I did ! But let's be off !— the children will be
cross ; it's nine o'clock ; I put 'em to bed before I came out,
and haven't had time to give them anything since breakfast,
and they were only vacciniated yesterday*"

And so the confidential couple repaired to the duties of
their avocations.

Saturday, August 16, 1845.



EPITOME OF THE VILLAGE NEWS. 145



EIGHTH WEEK.

VISIT OF HER MOST GRACIOUS MAJESTY QUEEN
VICTORIA AND HER ILLUSTRIOUS CONSORT
TO SOUTHPORT,

We are thrown into the greatest excitement by most im-
portant despatches, which only reached ns last night, con-
taining the rumour of her Majesty's intention to visit
Southport on her return from the Continent. We have not a
single moment to lose, as the most strenuous exertions will
scarcely be adequate to the short time allowed for preparation.

The principal attraction which has induced her Most
Gracious Majesty to land upon our shores is the far-extended
fame of the Ionic Pillar — her Majesty being unable to rest
by day or sleep by night till her curiosity is sated.

The royal squadron, in returning from Germany, will not
deign to notice Liverpool, but merely move past, as in a
panorama, and at once sail for our coast.

The following illustrious personages will form the escort of
the royal visiters : — Sir Robert Peel, Sir James Graham^ the
Duke of Wellington, the Duke of Buccleugh, Col. Bouverie,
the Duke of Argyle, Colonel Anson, the Earl of Lincoln, Lord
William Lennox, Earl De la Warr, the Lord Chamberlain,
the Earl of Haddington, the First Lord of the Admiralty,
the King and Queen of the Belgians, the Duchess of Buc-
cleugh, the Maids of Honour, and the Duchess of Kent ; and
Louis Philippe, King of the French, will perhaps form one
of the party.

The royal yacht, containing her Most Gracious Majesty and
her illustrious Consort, is expected to arrive a fortnight hence,
at half-past four o'clock, p.m. (wind and weather permitting),
in convoy with the Black Eagle and Porcupine war-steamers.

Thundering pieces of artillery are in preparation to grace
the frontiers of the Promenade ; the speaking-trumpet of Mr.
Lawson is undergoing thorough repair ; banners, emblazoned



146



EPITOME OF THE TILLAGE NEWS.



with the royal arms and endless devices, will grace the sand-
hills ; and the proud flag of England will wave in haughty
triumph from the Mount. The 5th Dragoon Guards, 11th
Hussars, 13th Lancers, 15th Infantry, Churchtown Yeomanry,
and Ormskirk Militia, in glittering helmets, will form in
columns on the shore, and the united bands will send forth
their welcome greetings to her Majesty. On the first sight of
the royal squadron, a salute of 40 guns will be fired, and the
frigate Csesar, 74 guns, together with the Laura, 120, under
the command of Vice-Admiral Sir Henry Rigby, K.C.B.,
will sail to greet them. We cannot express one-tenth of the
deafening cheers which will rend the very heavens on their
arrival.

On alighting from the royal barge, her Most Gracious
Majesty and her illustrious Consort will proceed on donkeys
to the village, which will be magnificently decked out on this
occasion ; the rest will be drawn in carriages. On arriving at
the Promenade, a salute of twenty guns will be fired from
the several bathing-machines, which will be most gorgeously
adorned with water-nymphs and sea-goddesses. Jump, in
a blue flannel uniform, with a wreath of roses round his head,
will greet her Majesty on one knee, and Ball and Bolton,
similarly attired, on two.

The royal party, it is expected, will alight from their
steeds on the banks of the Nile, where, in order to give effect,
Prince Rimmer will play the part of an alligator. The
magistrates, in their robes of office, with wands of purest
white, and three yards long, hung round with pearly ribbons,
will then bow before the Queen, and present the keys of
Southport upon a cushion of crimson velvet ; and should any
damp or moisture threaten to violate the feet of her Majesty,
Viscount Ball will doff his coat, and spread it on the ground,
in imitation of Sir Walter Raleigh. The magistrates walking
before, and the royal party following, with the proud array of
military pomp and far-resounding strains of music (principally
from the Churchtown yeomanry and Ormskirk militia), will
move forward along the Egyptian banks, and on arriving at the
Original Hotel (where the Pretender once took refuge) three
deafening cheers will be given. The Wellington will be



EPITOME OF THE VILLAGE NEWS. 147



superbly embellished with variegated colours of the costliest
silk, inscribed with loyal mottoes — " The Prince and Queen/'
" The Crown," " The Church," " The State," &amp;c. Ladies of
surpassing beauty will grace the windows; white handker-
chiefs will be waved, and no coloured ones will be allowed.
After having acknowledged these demonstrations of respect,
the crowded procession will move on, amid loud and continu-
ed cheering. A glass of sherry wine will be handed from
the Visiter Office on a beautiful piece of plate constructed
like the caduceus of Mercury, in order to enable the Queen
and her illustrious Consort to bear against the overwhelming
effects which will take place at the sight of the Ionic Pillar.
As nearer they approach this splendid piece of architecture,
the music will become more loud and eloquent ; the counten-
ances of the royal party grow more animated, and the Prince
will doff his hat, which very appropriate example will be
followed by the rest of the nobility. At the corner of Nevill-
street the procession will halt, the gorgeous armies be drawn
up into squares, and what remains of them will form a line,
in battle-like array, the whole length of the village. The
Pillar will have no decoration whatever, her Majesty having
expressed a wish to view it in its native loveliness and sim-
plicity, quoting, at the same time, the sentence — " Beauty when
unadorn'd's adorned the most." Her Majesty, in company
with the Prince, will then alight to gaze upon it from the base,
the peculiar virtues of which will be delineated by the magis-
terial authorities. The excited multitude will here burst into
enthusiastic cheering; three volleys of artillery, and six of
musketry, will be discharged, the echoes of which will be
heard on the confines of the metropolis, where the London
reporters will be anxiously listening. The following address
will be read to her Majesty on a throne erected by the
Pillar :—

" to the most high and mighty sovereign victoria,
by the grace of god queen of great britain and
ireland, defendress of the faith, &amp;c.

"Well, Vic, how are you ? We didn't exactly expect you; but as
you've come, you're welcome. What do you think of the Pillar ? No-
thing like it at Buckingham Palace ? Your crown would not buy it.



148 EPITOME OF THE VILLAGE NEWS.



We're very glad to see you ; upon my word we are ; for, to tell you
the
truth, we love you. By the by, Albert, how are you 1 You stick so
close
to your wife, there's no seeing you. How are the children ? Has
little
"Wales got all his teeth yet ?— fine lad — very ! Take a cigar ?
How long
are you going to stay ? We know of excellent lodgings at 4,
Blundell's
Buildings— ten shillings the parlour, and half-a-guinea the bed-
room ;
extra for cooking. Do you take Punch in now at the palace— eh ?
You've heard the trick he played us— haven't you ? Mean — was it
not ?
Dirty in the extreme. We're glad you don't take it; we wonder you
ever
tolerated such a sink-hole of scurrility and abuse : but we'll send
you a
Visiter every week. But perhaps you feel hungry— eh ? Sea-air
sharp-
ens the appetite. Have you made up your mind about the lodgings 1
Well, then, let the procession move on to the fourth palace of
Bluodell's.
We speak plainly— don't we 1 But we know your Majesty dislikes
cere-
mony ; you're always jigging about, you know. What do you think of
a
donkey to the New Inn or Little London ? — Hyde Park's nothing to
it.
Very well; we'll talk of it to-morrow. We just have to say that our

hearts are loyal and in the right place, and when occasion calls
us, just
compare ours with one of the Cockney's, and see where the fidelity
lies.

" God save you and the Prince !"

After much bowing and scraping, and other complimentary
grimaces, the Queen and Prince will pass along the line of
infantry to 4, Blundell's Buildings, where the Earl of Church-
town, for his gentlemanly bearing and address, will stand by
the portals of the ponderous gate to meet them. Sir Henry
Hodge will then receive them at the door, and show them up
the alabaster staircase. Lord John Robinson will do the
honours of the table, and Admiral Rigby will make himself
particularly entertaining. Here strains of music, with the
roar of cannon, will chronicle the entrance of her Majesty,
and such demonstrations of loyalty be shown as will give to
Southport a golden immortality. In the evening the house
will be superbly illuminated; fireworks will startle the very
atmosphere ; the praises of her Majesty will be sung by the
village ladies, clad in white, and wreaths of the rose, the
shamrock, and thistle (take care the latter is not too prickly !)
will embrace their lovely brows — God bless them ! The
health of her Majesty will be closely guarded by the medical
gentlemen of the village ; and while defended by such pro-
fessional ability, the absence of Sir James Clarke will not be
regretted.

The most active preparations are on foot. Mr. Mawdesley's



EPITOME OF THE VILLAGE NEWS. 149



elegant stock of drapery will be displayed in banners and
decorations; Miss BilliDgton's exquisite shellwork will be
presented for the inspection of her Majesty; Mrs. Fisher's
stock of delicious confectionary will be doubly increased ;
collections will be made at the churches; Mr. Staley's "pine
apples and other foreign fruits" will come in admirably ; the
hotels will be crowded to the utmost ; and such a welcome
will be given to Victoria and Albert on their arrival in South-
port as never, in the annals of their reign, has yet been wit-
nessed.

Viyant Regina et Princeps !

Education. — My dear young pupils, it is with feelings of
the deepest sorrow that I meet you all this evening, for I have
an announcement to make which weighs very heavily upon
me, and causes many tears to drop upon the paper as I write ;
the pen, as well, keeps dropping tears of ink, to the great
annoyance of the blotting-paper — showing, however, the
sympathy it feels with me in parting. The truth is that,
owing to the heavy pressure of business — the visit of the
Queen, &amp;c— necessity compels me to close the academy. It
was my intention to have gone through the history of the
kings, and in so doing I am confident the endeavour would
have been crowned with success, had time and opportunity
been granted. But the will of fate be done — not ours. I
shall not easily forget, my dear young pupils, the many plea-
sant moments we have passed together ; and, believe me, in
parting, I shall feel that many of those happy rays which
sometimes shine amidst the storms of life have set in gloom
for ever. (Miss Ringlet, what have you got your handkerchief
to your eyes for? What do you say? You'll be a better
pupil ? My dear girl, you were never a bad one.) I have
often thought when together, and whilst looking on your
lovely countenances, that could we all meet twenty years
hence by the side of the Ionic Pillar (for it will stand for
ever), what changes will have taken place. I can imagine
Miss Ringlet a countess, Miss Lovely the wife of a clergyman,
Miss Prim the wife of a magistrate, and Miss Lloyd the lady
of an officer. For my poor self I feel perfectly convinced



150 EPITOME OF THE TILLAGE NEWS.



that I shall be hanged or transported long before that period ;
and, believe me, when I am toiling on the hulks I shall often
heave a sigh to you at the same time that I am heaving some
tremendous load upon my back. (Thank you, Miss Lovely,
for this little ring ; I will wear it for your sake.) The prizes
will be awarded without delay, having previously been exhi-
bited upon the Pillar for the edification of the public ; and
not only these, but prizes far more elegant than I can give,
you are entitled to. And now, my dear and affectionate
pupils, farewell ! Go forth into the world the brilliant cha-
racters I have made you ; and in this lone and dreary pil-
grimage, where the thorns are many and the flowers few, oh !
may you never feel the canker of disease, the sting of poverty,
or the early hand of death. Believe me that the sky of dark
adversity will sometimes gather round you ; yet may the
rainbow of success and peace propitiously rise over you ; and
bright indeed and deep will be your happiness, should it be
but the answer to my prayer for your prosperity. And, oh !
suffer me for one moment to be serious. Forget not that
there is a God above, who would not that you should always
be dwellers on this earth, but angels by his side in heaven.
(Miss Ringlet, you would make a very pretty one.) Farewell !

Saturday, August 23, 1845.



NINTH WEEK.

Law Intelligence. — A very startling rumour has just
reached us from some unknown source that a quarrel having
arisen amongst our village ladies as to which is the most
beautiful, they are positively going to law about it. We will
anticipate that each lady has employed most learned and
very able counsel to vindicate her rights. What scope for
eloquence ! Flowers will grow up in the very throat, and
blossom into language ! As thus : — My lord, I am scarcely
able to defend my client, for my emotion chokes me. (Ahem !



EPITOME OF THE VILLAGE NEWS. 151



ahem !) Gaze upon those charms for but one moment, and
if sober sensibility remains, you are not a mortal, but a God.
Those azure orbs of sapphire glory — the eyes — which angels
might have formed to view their beauty in ! — those bright
celestial mirrors, or patent blue reflectors ! (A drink of water.)
My lord, I dare scarcely speak of the vermilion lips. We
talk of coral — trash ! Within those lips which breathe the
honied accents of my client repose the virgin blood of all
earth's tenderest ornaments. The dove ! — the gentle lamb ! —
the robin -redbreast ! This blood, my lord, is first distilled
with nectarines of richest flowers, borne up to heaven by
fragrant angels, smiled on, breathed on, mingled with the
perfumes of the celestial still, purified three times in glory,
and returned into the lips of my enchanting client ! Oh, my
lord ! if you be mortal, why not burst your skin and leap
about in rapture ? (A smelling-bottle instantly !) — Another
we might imagine to hold forth thus : — My lord, my learned
friend has spoken of blue eyes. Why, rny lord, there is not
a cat in the village but possesses them ; and even gray eyes
may be turned to blue by rubbing them with onions. But
when we revert to black ones, it is then, my lord, we feel the
truth, like the glorious sun behind a cloud. What astrono-
mical refulgence can burst forth to fire them ! Like stalac-
tites in the grotto of Antiparos, the thoughts of the supernal
mind both glance and glisten in their impenetrable depths ;
and in uniting with such transcendant glory, you feel your
passport to the gods is certain. (Water ! Quick !— very !
His eloquence overcomes him !) Then view the delicate com-
plexion ! — so clear ! — so white ! — so unlike earth ! — so
bright!
— so crystal ! Oh, my lord ! might not the infant angels
which sometimes hover round our earth till big enough for
heaven — oh ! might they not, in wintry seasons, skate upon
it ; and, my lord, no doubt they do. Oh ! if you but possess
one millionth part of the sensitive susceptibilities of mortality,
why not stand upon your head in rapture, imagining at the
same time that your legs are in the skies, and as you gaze
upon my client, wish that you were back again on earth, to
dwell upon her charms for ever. — Some other orator, choking
with emotion, would then pour forth : — My lord, black eyes



152 EPITOME OF THE VILLAGE NEWS.



and blue ones have certainly been drowned in eloquence ; but
as my learned friend has said that gray eyes may be turned to
blue by rubbing them with onions, so black eyes may at any
time be made by a consistent thump upon the face. My
lord, black eyes are odious : with black and blue we can only
associate the idea of a brutal husband and an ill-used wife.
I shall waive, my lord, the paltry advantages of face and
feature, and confine myself to figure. Behold my client !
Oh ! my lord, think not of Venus when attired by the Graces ;
but look on bona fide flesh and blood, enriched by natural
beauty. The swan-like neck, the tapering waist, the arm of
symmetry, the filbert finger — to say nothing of the thumb ;
and then, my lord, the beauteous adaptation of the joints
devoid of dislocation, and the fragile bone devoid of fracture.
My lord, but look upon the combination of the whole —
remember but for a moment the Egyptian Cleopatra, and lose
your senses in an ecstacy. — We will then imagine that my
lord declines the bursting of his skin, the standing on his
head, and the losing of his senses in an ecstacy, sums up all
the evidence, and comes to a rational conclusion. He will
thus speak : — The beauty of each lady so eloquently defended
I have listened to with pleasurable and agreeable considera-
tion ; yet, gentlemen, in this particular dilemma I feel I am
no judge, for it is impossible, amidst so many counterbalances,
to come to a decision. All are indeed beautiful ; and if from
these divine materials one glorious being might be produced,
there would stand in Southport an eternal monument of supe-
rior beauty to every empire in the world.

Notice. — We are frequently very much annoyed at the
conduct of several persons in this village, who, we are happy
to say, are not residents, walking past the Ionic Pillar without
either moving to or bestowing one recognising glance upon it.
Now, those who are guilty of such misconduct can only be
descended from the heathen, or otherwise their education has
been shamefully neglected. It bespeaks a rudeness which
is not consistent with the character of either a lady or a gen-
tleman ; and we advise those who would not be held up to
public scorn to remember that there is an eye inside the Pillar



EPITOME OP THE VILLAGE NEWS. 153



Vhich can telegraph to us the names of those who make the
necessary obeisance ; and those who dare neglect it — let them
tremble. Moreover, it is the privilege of none to come within
a circle of five yards round it ; instead of which our blood
occasionally boils to see the filthy coat of some adventurer
defiling its most natural beauty. If such people cherish no
regard for earthly matters, let them recollect that there is a
sacredness about the Pillar which if violated will tend to no
important good hereafter.

A Treat. — Mr. Samuel Lover, we rejoice to hear, will
honour Southport with his presence, and give his entertain-
ments on Monday evening next. If we give him his desert,
he will no doubt give us a treat.

Curiosity Satisfied. — We could not help, on Wednes-
day evening last, being struck with curiosity on viewing the
steeple of the Old Church. There are three clocks with their
faces towards you, and apparently three others below them
with their backs to you. We naturally asked ourselves the
question that if these clocks beheld each other face to face
would they quarrel ? The query was immediately solved by
hearing them strike*



Saturday, August 30, 1845.



TENTH WEEK.

THE RURAL SPORTS.

During the week, the village has been particularly gay — so
much so, indeed, that it is feared the depression which must
necessarily succeed to the excitement will be productive of a
low or typhus fever, and the village will be ravaged by a
pestilence. However, we will hope for the best. The rural
sports have certainly been long anticipated ; but whether the
anticipation or the reality has afforded the most amusement,



154 EPITOME OF THE VILLAGE NEWS.



we leave to the discretion of our readers. Waiving all party
opinions, let us just view, as in a panorama, the events which
have passed away. As regards ourselves, we stand unbiassed,
alike fearless of the opinions of those who condemn or applaud.
The first evening of the week certainly opened with a " treat"
which, we were glad to see, was cordially appreciated, for a
more gay and respectable audience it has never been our
lot to witness. Mr. Lover is a man of undeniable ability —
not only excelling as an author, but rich in the personifica-
tion of those characters his imagination has conceived. One
mournful feeling only damped our enjoyment of the evening,
and that was the remembrance of poor Power, whose
closing scene was (as is too well known) in the depths of
the wide Atlantic. Between Power and Mr. Lover there is
a close resemblance ; and it is impossible to watch the one
without thinking of the other. But what was all this talent —
those eloquent addresses — those soul-enlivening songs com-
pared with the celestial tones of the piano ? It was too
much — it was indeed ! At the first touch the sense of our
mortality seemed to pass from us, and it became a matter of
doubt of which world we were the inhabitants. We thought
that the instrument might certainly have been better; how-
ever, let us temper justice with mercy. The tale of " The
Gridiron " was very well told, and made us as hot with
laughing as if we had been roasted on it. The anecdotes
illustrative of Irish character were well given, though, we
allow in one or two instances more famous for their humorous
delivery than their originality. This, however, must at all
times occur in order to diversify the monotony of the en-
tertainments. Now, we are bound to confess, as honest men,
that, as regards ourselves, we enjoyed that evening more than
any other of the week ; and to animadvert at any length on
the succeeding days would be a work of supererogation.

The revel (if it may so be called), on Wednesday last, was
certainly as well conducted, and perhaps as gratifying, as the
position and circumstance of the place will suffer; at all
events, if the crowded assemblage of spectators during the
three days' festivity be any proof of satisfaction, there has
certainly been sufficient evidence to pronounce them good.



EPITOME OF THE TILLAGE NEWS. 155



As regards the sailing or rowing matches, they are scarcely
worthy of comment, and it was frequently a matter of no
small difficulty to determine which were the competitors, and
which were not. Xow, from this we should be sorry if an
inference were drawn that anything like disrespect is em-
bodied in the remark ; but it must be acknowledged by most
that frequently a race was half over without the spectator
being aware that it had actually begun. The firing of a gun,
or some signal better calculated to attract attention at a mo-
ment, would, in our opinion, have contributed materially to
the interest which is naturally felt in any contest. We thought
the belles of the village appeared pleased with the gingling
matches, or, at all events, were blind to the defects, and indeed
it would have been a shame to call the competitors over the
coals when they only had the sack ; however, like all other
bells, they smiled upon the ring, and evidently did not wish
a repeal of the fun. An adequate degree of mirth appeared
to compensate the gallant hero for his toil in swarming for the
leg of mutton, although we thought the unsuccessful ones
looked rather sheepish on the subject. "With respect to the
hat, it could be no matter of consequence to it whether it was
obtained or not, for it would only be taken from one pole to
be stuck upon another. The prize awarded to the winner of
the foot race was ten shillings, owing, we presume, to the
natural circumstance of his possessing ten toes ; thus fixing
the rate of value on each toe at one shilling. We sincerely
hope, however, that he may be well shod for his trouble, and
nailed into the bargain. In speaking of the horse races, we
confess that the greatest treat we had anticipated was the
match announced between Captain Jackson and Mr. Hurst —
the former upon Polly-the-milkmaid, and the latter upon
Romeo. This latter character of Shakspere, however, de-
clined the contest ; and though we rejoiced to see the gallant
captain, in blue and white, issuing forth from Coronation
Walk at a gallop, yet we are certain that we were jockied out
of much amusement, and the spur of excitement taken from
us at the very moment that we looked for a stir-up. The
gallant captain, we are sure, will pardon us when we assert
that, like good civilians, we respect the dignity of an upright



156 EPITOME OF THE VILLAGE NEWS.



corporation. He will, at all events, permit us to congratulate
him on his success; and may Polly-the-milkmaid always
come within the pale of glory, and remain the cream of her
descent. The pig races we thought rather swinish, and some-
what slippery subjects ; however, it is easy to please most
people with a little soft soap, if we cannot actually hold on
to their affections.

The ball we considered of rather too bounceable a character
for our society, and, consequently, we rebounded from the
impudence of intrusion; not that we have anything to ad-
vance in condemnation of it, but, not feeling particularly well
up in the Polka and Cellarius, we were somewhat apprehensive
of disturbing the harmony and regularity of the evening, and
we therefore sought, in the solitude of domestic life, whatever
solace rose up in bold relief.

The concert, on Wednesday evening, was well attended,
which, we rejoice to say, implies a willingness on the part of
the public to encourage what is really deserving of patronage ;
and we think there was a mutual willingness on the part of
the amateurs to render it as entertaining as possible— at least
all went very smoothly ; and though a white squall came
rather unexpectedly upon us, it did not detract from the en-
joyment of the evening. The National Anthem was sung with
so much loyalty and correctness, that it is almost a matter of
dispute if her Majesty will ever die, but remain a mortal pickle
to the end of time. The efforts of Miss Banning, Messrs. Hudson,
Aughton, Wright, Banning, and Greenall were very strenuous,
and highly deserving of praise ; and as for Mr. Johnson,
he appeared as bass as ever, for he seems capable of descending
to the lowest pitch, and, what is more remarkable, the more
he attempts to improve in this particular capacity, the loioer
he will get. We should, indeed, be guilty of unpoliteness, did
we not attempt to say a few words in praise of Mademoiselle
Richereaud. Our ears, we believe, are not naturally musical,
but we understand from excellent authority that she differs
very much from us in this respect. Her voice is powerful,
and, when modulated by time and practice, we hope she may
attain that pinnacle of fame in the musical world to which
her talents certainly entitle her.



EPITOME OF THE VILLAGE NEWS. 157



A grand display of fireworks, by Mr. Francis Johnson, of
Liverpool, on the ground opposite the Union Hotel, concluded
the week's festivity. We were half afraid at times they would
not go off so well as was expected; but we remained silent,
not liking to damp the ardour which was naturally felt by the
committee. We thought at times we heard a hissing in the
crowd, but it merely proved to be the rockets in a very phiz-
zing and excited state ; however, the proverb teaches us that
self-praise is no recommendation; but as these admirable
pyrotechnic works actually hissed themselves, we must reverse
the proverb, and believe that self-condemnation is a very good
one. To use a vulgar epithet, we shall express our sentiments
the best by admitting that there was really a good flare up.
We could not help being forcibly struck by the reflection that
a better night for the ladies could not have happened, for
there were positively sparks in any quantity, and not only so,
but many matches were made on the occasion, which caused
them to look as proud as Lucifer. The atmosphere was very
brilliantly and gaily illuminated, for which it was no doubt
very grateful. When the fire began to slacken we retraced
our footsteps homewards, went to bed, and dreamt that we
were rockets flying off to heaven ; but on awaking in the
morning we discovered we were only on the stocks.

The band was a very fair one indeed. The trombone is a
very fine fellow, and so is the French horn ; but the big drum
beats them all in action, although, as we occasionally observed
the sticks, we could perceive him show the white feather.
They were men of many stripes, and if their heads are not
deeply re(a)d, their legs and bodies will most assuredly com-
pensate for the deficiency.

"We wish them success wherever they go,

" With rings on their fingers and beils on their toes."

The weather, we may observe, has been remarkably fine^ it
having been bespoken by Mr. Lawson for the occasion. The
latter part of yesterday was rather more gloomy and dark
than usual ; but this was purposely done, in order to give
greater effect to the fireworks in the evening. The bets upon
the races, we believe, have been enormous, especially with
the ladies. Gloves have been lost and won in great profusion ;



158 EPITOME OF THE VILLAGE NEWS.



but this is not to be wondered at, when we consider how fond
they are of pairs in any shape, and, we need scarcely add,
the matrimonial form especially. We should have liked to
have had a finger in the pie, but were elbowed out whenever
we attempted it. Along the shore the greatest bustle and
excitement appeared to prevail : all looked gay and, for
aught we know, happy. There were the sober as well as the
drunken, the loser as well as the winner ; but we are bound
to confess that the expression of countenance on all was much
the same.

And thus has passed away the rural sports of Southport for
the year 1845 : how long they will be continued for the
future, we leave to the discretion of the spectator. For our-
selves, we have been pleased more than otherwise ; but this
must be owing to the fact that little minds are easily amused.
Nothing upon earth is perfect; but we cannot withhold
from giving all due praise to the committee for their strenuous
exertions to please. It is not only creditable to their heads,
but honourable to their hearts, for the profit belongs not
to themselves, but to the multitude. We beg to tender
them the thanks of the public through the medium of our
humble journal. They have certainly held firmly together,
and we hope they always may. If we, as chroniclers of
public events, have delivered any sentiment not consonant
with those of others, we can only add that we are bound
to speak according to the best of our belief; and think not,
reader, that we arrogate any praise to ourselves when we
assert that we have never yet felt the power which could
prevent us.



Saturday, September 6, 1845.



ELEVENTH WEEK.

We have been haunted during the week by a very singular
kind of spectre which, wherever we walked, was constantly
behind us. And this is more curious when we reflect that the



EPITOME OF THE TILLAGE KEWS.



159



wind has been particularly variable, yet, no matter what quar-
ter it blew from, this same ghostly article was at our heels.
It was in the shape of a dirty piece of paper, and though
many pieces of paper are wafted about by contending breezes,
we could always identify the same. At last invited beyond
measure we waived our dignity and took it up, when the fol-
lowing items were subservient to cheating a few moments of
their monotony. Wherever the gentleman may have come
from who has incurred the enormous expense set down to him,
we must at least give him credit for his temperance. It was
a bill made out we presume by some landlady or other in
Southport, and we give it more as a specimen of the beauties
of orthography than any other : —

" Mr Broun owes me

Sally Grearson what is here



Feal
Hegs
Butther
Flower
Peese
Am

4 pun of ros bif
Shugger
Gusburies
Tatos
"VTeshin

Laid down [we presume cash] ♦ .
3 pennuth of tincter of rubub . .
A chimley sweepin u sed u wud pa for }
if it wudclunt smook . . 5

Sunderries



4 pens
6 pens

1 shillin

2 tuppens
4 pens

6 pens
2 &amp; 4 pens

7 pens
2 pens

2 more pens
Nothin
\ a crun

3 pens

2 shillins
a groat



Pleas had em up an sa wot it is
Maid hall rite by Sally Grearson "



Breach of Promise of Marriage. — From our Orms-
kirk correspondent we are given to understand that the most
serious results are likely to arise from a breach of promise of



160 EPITOME OF THE VILLAGE NEWS.



marriage, and a case of furious litigation to disclose the ins
and outs of this peculiar courtship. As we have been favoured
with all the particulars, and the correspondence carried on
between the parties, we will, with our usual urbanity, submit
them to the public. The names of the parties we fully give.
The defendant's name is Titus Treakle, a dashing young gro-
cer; and the plaintiff, Sophia Mantel, a phizzing young
dressmaker. Now it so happened that one day Titus Treakle,
as he was leaning on a sugar cask, passed his hand carelessly
across his chin, and came to the conclusion that he wanted
shaving. Accordingly, wrar>ping his apron round his waist,
in the manner of a general, and depositing a few sweet
almonds in his pocket to beguile the time, he bounded across
the street to the establishment of a barber, vulgarly called a
perfumer. It was during the time of the shaving operation
that the parties mutually reciprocated to each other ; for as
Titus sat upon the chair with a towel round his throat, and
his chin and whiskers buried in soap-suds, with his eyes turned
heavenward, Miss Sophia Mantel chanced to stop at the win-
dow, for the purpose of inspecting a sidecomb to control her
lovely ringlets. Titus, struck with admiration, gave such a
start that the razor had nearly taken off his chin, and it was
thus, whilst bleeding under the butchering hands of the bar-
ber, that the heart of Sophia Mantel melted, and " she loved
him for the dangers he had passed," and " he loved her that
she did pity him." Titus, holding his pocket-handkerchief to
his chin, hastily pursued her, resolved that as the blood poured
from him he would strike while the iron was hot. He pursued
her from street to street, until arriving at the end of a very
long one Sophia turned into a dark-looking alley, and it was
here that Titus declared the secret of his love — how he had
bled for her, and was bleeding; how for months he had
watched her and admired her (though he had never before seen
her) ; all these combined, however, had the desired effect of
captivating her heart, and after sundry successive meetings
and appointments (to the great neglect of his master's busi-
ness), young Titus fixed the day of the wedding, and actually
had bought the ring for the occasion. Now, there is an old
saying, and we believe it to be very true, that " there is many



EPITOME OF THE VILLAGE NEWS.



161



a slip 'twixt the cup and the lip," and the proverb could not
be more substantiated than on this particular occasion. M T hen
the gallant young Titus came to the resolution of taking his
beloved for better or worse, or perhaps both, he naturally
expected that he had bargained for the usual quantity of legs
and arms which constitute a human individual. However, it
so chanced that about a week previous to the day appointed
for their marriage that poor Sophia, with the eagerness of a
dove to fly to her mate, was returning from her day's work,
and, fearful of breaking the punctuality of her appointment,
skipped upon the top of a very high omnibus to increase her
speed, when, sad to relate, after travelling about a hundred
yards, the wheel of the vehicle came off, and poor Sophia was
pitched with desperate force upon the top of a pump. Drop
a tear, dear reader ! — one leg was so terrifically fractured that
amputation was the consequence ; three fingers, and the half
of an arm, were likewise lopped off from her fair proportions,
and, though the heart of Titus Treakle grew soft with pity, he
declared she was not the woman he had taken her for, and
unfeelingly recommended her to the retirement of an hospital.
Now this was too bad ! Poor Sophia ! it nearly broke her
heart; but revenge succeeded with the reaction, and gave rise
to the very serious law-suit which will shortly be decided.
Now, it is a remarkable fact that people when in love, how-
ever incapable they may be, are remarkably fond of giving
vent to their feelings in poetry, and, with the reader's permis-
sion, we will just open a few of their epistles and disclose
their elegance of composition. The following is from Mr.
Titus Treakle to Miss Sophia Mantel : —

" My dear Sophia

I'm all on fire

Like one in hell's proud gap !

To-night I'll come

With figs a drum

And throw them in your lap !

Your devoted lover to the end of eternity,

Titus."

Now this is very expressive, and carries with it a double
meaning, which must at once be obvious. The " proud gap of
hell " seems to indicate a conviction on the part of the writer



162 EPITOME OF THE TILLAGE NEWS.



that at some time or other it will become familiar to him ; for
in the succeeding lines where he speaks of the drum of figs,
there cannot be a question but that he intends robbing his
master to a fearful extent* However, we will just compare
one of Sophia's with his : —

" My everlasting tender Titus

Do come to-night for to delight us

And if you'll only say you'll come

Care not a fig about the drum

But say you have a certain raison

For to go out on some occasion

Your ever ivy-like clinging

Sophia."

Here it will be evidently seen that although a good deal of
grocery is mixed up in these lines, there is also a strong pro-
pensity to be witty, showing as well the heavenly-mindedness
of woman to rescue man from the paths of vice, for she appears
to disregard the figs, and only figuratively to make use of the
raison to enable him to fly to the embrace. Treakle would
no doubt appreciate this kindness, for he thus writes : —

" All obstacles I will set at defiance

For on you only do I put reliance

But if I come and take a glass of wine

Will you through thick and thin swear you'll be mine?"

Now although this is a very posing question, it was precisely
what Sophia wished, and our correspondent informs us that
Titus did go, and made a rash vow. This all took place, pre-
vious to the accident, and in all probability the vow would
have been held sacred had not the accident occurred, or even
if the fragments of the lady could have been put together.
Titus however disliking the idea of only part of a wife, abruptly
broke off the engagement, and poor Sophia became a wreck.
But here lies the fatality — the rock on which poor Treakle
will be thrown. Stung by disappointment, he one night sought
the consolation of a tavern, and, whilst deep in his cups, his
old affection for Sophia got the mastery over him, and in a fit
of desperation he wrote the following effusion, and repented
in the morning : —

" Once more I feel myself on fire
And hear me swear my dear Sophia
That had you neither arm nor leg



EPITOME OF THE TILLAGE NEWS. 163



But merely oval like an egg
I swear by all that's false and true
I think that's really fair— don't you ?
I'd stick to you like Treakle still
And marry you by Jove I will !
I am, celestial Sophia, the man that swears to wed you,
Shagbag Hotel, Hawgust 10, 1845. Titus Treakle."

It would be useless to remind the reader that this last letter
will be fatal to the cause. He seems in good spirits ; but it
appears to us, that whether he marries the girl or not, he will
have to sustain some heavy damages.

The Greatest Bore on Earth. — A man of fine feeling
or eminence travelling through a village taking up his residence
at what he considers perhaps the wealthiest and most honour-
able dwelling in the place, when, as frequently happens
through the loquacity of servants, he discovers that the lady
is the daughter of a tailor, and the gentleman the scion of a
huckster.

The following are two letters which we think will show the
change of feeling after the awful event of matrimony. We
think also they must refer to some commercial man, for there
appears a degree of business mixed up with both of them : —

" My Dear Louisa— I am prosecuting with the greatest ardour the
journey which fate has allotted me, and I attribute the success of
my
labours to the energy which the thought of you inspires me. I envy
not
wealth ; yet I would toil as would an African that 1 might lay a
golden
fortune at your feet, and suffer not your utmost wish, however
extrava-
gant, to die unsatisfied. Oh ! when I remember that parting glance
you
gave me at the door — when I call to mind the honied accents of
thosa
beauteous lips, the pressure of that silken hand, I but regret that
I un-
fortunately was not born a king to place you on a ^throne where
nations
might adore and envy you. Till I see you again, oh ! dearest
Louisa—
(and every second will appear an eternity), I will think of you,
and pray
for your health and happiness, till fate unites us in the holiest
bonds.
I am, yours unto death,

Gustavus Gasper.

After six months of matrimonial life, the lady who should have
been a queen and never have a wish refused, receives the
following : —



164 EPITOME OF THE VILLAGE NEWS.



" Dear Louey — I never felt in such a horrible humour in all my
life
— I can't get a single order. Just go to Johnson the landlord, and
see if
he won't take less rent — thirty pounds a year is far too much.
What a
mercy it is we have no family ; how the deuce should we keep them.
You must pull in a little more, and if you have any dresses you
don't
much care about, just pawn them ; because every little helps. By
the
by about the butcher's bill? just say that I shall be home in a
week and
will settle with him, although at the same time I'll be hanged if I
do —
if I have to wait for my money, he shall wait for his. It's rather
a pity
that you are ill in bed, however, if you don't get any better, just
call in
the druggist at the bottom of the street, and perhaps he can patch
you
up. I expect to be at home some time or other, so till then— adieu
!
Yours truly,

Pig and Whistle, Sunderland. Gustavus Gasper."

Comparisons are odious ; and this is one of them.

It is a singular circumstance that last week, there was
scarcely a single fish of any description to be had in either
Fleetwood or Blackpool. This, however, is easily accounted
for, as all of them would swim to Southport to view the races
and rural sports.

We cannot help feeling delighted at the joyful expression of
countenance which all the donkeys in the village are assuming.
This no doubt arises from a consciousness that the season is
nearly over.

Saturday , September 13, 1845.



THE END.