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Not Heliogabalus nor old Apicius,
Nor the famed suicidal cook Vattel, Ever concocted banquet more delicious,
Or one so eagerly devour’d. To tell Th'effect of those restoratives auspicious,
Transcends my power; in short, we felt quite well, And in an access of hysteric gladness, Shriek d, laugh d, and jump'd with every sign of madness. So kind the maiden, that I felt a hope,
Perchance, that she might aid us to descend, So I uncoil'd, and lower'd down a rope
With a small grappling iron at its end,
In signs, if people will but comprehend)
The tackle to a withered stump she tied,
She bow'd, as if to say—“I have complied."
And mooring the balloon that it might ride
Language descriptive of a scene so rare ?
Precedence of my pen. That fairest fair,
Thrice touched her forehead with a reverent air,
Are somewhat smaller than the human race,
That the moon does to earth. In stature, grace,
All that we dream of sylphs, although her face
Her cheeks just beaming with a roseate light,
Which fell in tendrils o'er her shoulders white.
Save that its hue was moon-like, with a bright
The budding beauties of her bust conccald,
Half of her fair unstocking'd leg revealed ;
Was light as gossamer. No nymph lark-heeled,
When I had gazed my fill, no easy task,
I look'd around me at the landscape fair.
To paint a scene so beautifully rare,
That gave her features a diminishid air,
Whose tlowers gave forth a perfume rich and rare, The tinted waters look'd like purple glass
Flowing through meads auriferous ;-the air Thrill'd with the songs of birds that far surpass
Earth's nightingales in summer evenings fair ; And when we raised our ravished eyes on high What lovely visions glorified the sky!
Prismatic clouds assumed the form and hues
Of a grand gallery of pictures splendid, Where every taste its favourite scene might choose,
For here a gorgeous landscape lay extended,
With figures, flowers, and cattle-pieces blended.
While I stood thus in an admiring trance,
Green, who had gather'd and devour'd a mango, Now, bowing, to Luxora would advance,
Now twirl around her in a mad fandango, Crying at times, as he increased his dance,
“I'll show you, Miss, how rapidly I can go," And laughing louder as he capered round, At poor Luxora's wonderment profound.
Guy's wonder was a stupor, every sight
And every moment seeming to increase it: His first quotation was a bull outright,
“ Steterunt comæ, vox faucibus hesit,"'-— For he was bald, and spoke.—" Who,"quoth our wight,
“ Quis tale credat ? even when he sees it ?
That form'd its outskirt, led us to a wood,
A small pavilion picturesquely stood,
On a far lake, whose waves the zephyr woo'd,
Simplicity, refined by female taste,
And hostess too—(both characters she graced)
A plain repast upon the table laid,
Waiting upon us with such looks of chaste And reverent homage in her beaming features, 'Twas clear she took us for celestial creatures.
Whene'er we spoke this answer still we heard
“ Squanch zimzom squish," whose lunar sense implies, "I cannot understand a single word;"
But we had little need of colloquies,
As if she read our very thoughts and eyes ;
Of ivory she pointed to a door,
We pass'd within, and mark'd upon the floor
Each at its head a plume of feathers bore,
Or vanish'd as by magic from the place :
We gazed around, no object could we trace;
Forth to the circling forest-not in chace
So strange and lovely was the woodland show;
Resembled those that in our tropics grow-
And many more whose names we did not know,
Swung to and fro upon the high festoons,
Opossums, squirrels, monkeys, and racoons,
Had round flat faces, just like little moons ;
That we were strange to them; for, as we sped,
While quickly disappear'd each quadruped ;
We came in sight, when instantly they fled.
Thus we pursued our fear-diffusing walk
Till evening's shadows fell, when home we hied
The only being who unterrified
Our hopes of aid, but kindly had supplied
The whole some scene of fairy necromancy.
In all the effulgence of prismatic glory,
To chat awhile of our surprising story ;
Our talk be more than brief and transitory.
pass'd our first day's sojourn in the moon.
Nay, you must name his name, and half his face must be seen throngh the lion's neck ; and he himself must speak through, saying thus, or to the same defect.”
“ If you think I come hither as a lion, it were pity of my life. No; I am no such thing : I am a man, as other men are!"- Midsummer Night's Dream.
“The Earl of Z- was informed that bail would be required to answer at the sessions the serious charge of feloniously taking away Mr. Golightly's knocker, when, at length, his Lordship condescended to apprise Mr. Burnsides, the clerk, of his name and title. The worthy magistrate, on learning who the noble offender was, expressed his regret that one who should know the laws so well should so well forget them; and directed him, with a suitable admonition, to pay a fine of 5s., and be discharged.”
“ Um !” said a very dry-looking, sleek, homely personage, in the back, comfortable room at the Harp, in St. George's Fields (perhaps within the Rules), as he drew the candle, with an umbrella-wick, from between the evening paper and his own spectacles, and at the same time put down his pipe, slow as himself ;—“ Um! Well now, I don't see how that is. I don't, I can't say I do. I don't see that."
Now the Harp was like most harps now-a-days-silent. It was eleven o'clock-it was late. Mr. Day, the hay salesman, had left at nine o'clock : he had to be “
up in the morning early," to attend Smithfield or the Portman-market. Mr. Jones, the neighbouring grocer, had just quitted his half-pint of Burton, or rather taken it with bim, as he never was out after half-past ten-a fact which Mrs. Jones could, by authority, avouch. The certain visitors had departed; casualties, there were none. The only living furniture in the back room of the harp was Quail, the silent, meditative smoker, a retired tradesman, who had just been posed by a police paragraph; and a sharp-nosed, very little man, in very
brown black, with a hat shining from its nakedness of nap, sitting behind a long pipe and a short glass, which Campbell sublimely calls
“ His calumet of peace and cup of joy," puffing slight, noiseless puffs, like the fumy, feeble explosions of guns in a pantomime seventy-four, a long way out at sea.
The night was nearly over,--over indeed! The candles—the two which the landlord had allowed to run to seed—were “dark with(out) excess of light,” two or three empty pipes remained quiet monuments to the memories of departed smokers,—the little round mausoleums of sand were struck out of their right places hy the departings of the departed,-a few tumblers, empty, remained,--the fire had caked into a dull, red-hot hollow roof,—the cat was curved into a sleep on the sanded hearth,--the four bell-ropes hung, at intervals, over the tables in wondrous repose,—and only one very broad-brimmed hat blackened the one handsome peg out of the twelve that adorned, foot by foot asunder, the happy back-room of the Harp!--The hat of Quail !
“Well; I don't-I can't see that;" reiterated the dazed Quail, as he laid down the paper, took his spectacles from his eyes, in which“ speculation ” was, and turned to the sharp little brown black human being, who was, however, as unmoved, and as immovable as the veriest German that ever piped away his “spirits to the ditties of no tone” in the obscurities of a Wiesbaden or a Schlangenbad, before a Head was allowed to the inhabitants, to “show them they were men.
“Mr. Pineter,'' (the little gentleman's name was Pointer, but his personal appearance, and his profession had sharpened it into this pronunciation for general use,)“Mr. Pineter, did you hear that as I read, and did you note of its contents ?” Quail, like Brutus, “paused for a reply."
And as Mr. Pineter had become habituated into one of those true smokers who never quit fume for fact, without the proper profundity of consideration, it is not meet that the interim between Quail's query, and Pineter's reply, should be allowed to be a hiatus valde deflendus;" and a sketch snatched by the pencil on the thumb-nail (like one of Pickersgill's opera beauties), is given between the hazy note of interrogation, and the returned slow, bleak, black look, puff, sigh, and response of the Pineter. Nothing could now be very distinct at the Harp; it was “past eleven o'clock, and a cloudy night," to use the language of "the ancient and most quiet watchman."
Pineter—Mr. Pointer-had been an only son of an innkeeper at South Molton, and articled to an attorney, who married a lady of 2001. a-year, and had no practice. When out of his time, he, P., set himself up in business—not as solicitor-as guard of an Exeter coach, wishing to see life, and, with the only touch of legal knowledge he had acquired from his master, wishing to be paid for his insight. He had learned to smoke and drink at his father's—he had at a premium of two hundred guincas, and a gentle contribution to the revenue, improved his education, by extending his knowledge of smoking and drinking at South Molton. It has always appeared odd that fathers should think it obligatory upon them, at the time when their sons have attained the age of fifteen or sixteen, to pay a considerable sum of money for their scientific improvement in dissipation and debauchery, as though indolence and the