EPIGRAM

"Jack Falstaff, now Sir John, a boy,And page to Thomas Mowbray, duke of Norfolk?"

Perhaps!—— but he chases away the intrusive reflection by another cup of sack and a fresh sally of humour.

Dryden maintained that Shakspeare killed Mercutio, because, if he had not, Mercutio would have killed him. In spite of the authority of

"All those prefaces of Dryden,For these our critics much confide in,"

Glorious John is here mistaken. Mercutio is killed precisely in the part of the drama where his death is requisite. Not an incident, scarcely a sentence, in this most skilfully managed play of Romeo and Juliet, can be omitted or misplaced. But I do think that Shakspeare was unwilling to hazard the reputation of Falstaff by producing him again in connexion with his old companion, Hal, on the stage. The dancer in the epilogue of the Second Part of Henry IV. promises the audience, that "if you be not too much cloyed with fat meat, our humble author will continue the story, with Sir John in it, and make youmerry with fair Katharine of France; where, for any thing I know, Falstaff shall die of a sweat, unless already he be killed with your hard opinions."[96]The audience was not cloyed with fat meat, Sir John was not killed with their hard opinions; he was popular from the first hour of his appearance: but Shakspeare never kept his word. It was the dramatist, not the public, who killed his hero in the opening scenes of Henry V; for he knew not how to interlace him with the story of Agincourt. There Henry was to be lord of all; and it was matter of necessity that his old master should disappear from the scene. He parted therefore even just between twelve and one, e'en at turning of the tide, and we shall never see him again until the waters of some Avon, here or elsewhere,—it is a good Celtic name for rivers in general,—shall once more bathe the limbs of the like of him who was laid for his last earthly sleep under a gravestone bearing a disregarded inscription, on the north side of the chancel in the great church at Stratford.

W. M.

'Twas thought that all who dined on hare,For seven days after, grew most fair:Fanny, it seems, this tale believed,When I from her a hare received:But if the tale be true, odsfish!Fanny has never tried the dish.

The world is about equally divided into two parts; viz. the first and most unfortunate part, who have made trips by steam; and the other, whose ill-luck is to come, and who have not yet been subject to the "vapours." Both of these divisions of society will be equally interested in my narration; one will see a faithful delineation of what they have already suffered, and the other will be enabled clearly to apprehend what, when their time comes, they will have to undergo. Not that I wish to deter anybody from such undertakings, inasmuch as there will be a degree of naval heroism in anybody who ventures his person after he has become fully aware of his necessary calamities. I need not say that this will give him a high station in society, and that, if he announces in a tolerably loud voice at a dinner-table that he has made a long trip by steam, more than one eye-glass will be devoted to a survey of him. This is no mean advantage, and not to be lightly lost.

Before I state what happened to me in particular, I just wish to say half-a-dozen words about the sea in general. The sea has been described by a great natural historian as

"The sea! the sea!The bright and open sea!"

Now, I differ from this description altogether. The sea is undoubtedly "thesea,"—there's no denying that; but that it at all comes up to the jauntydébonnairecharacter indicated by the rest of the description, I absolutely traverse. In my mind it is a boisterous "dissolute companion," whose bad example corrupts the most respectable characters. Only see how our gentlemanlike, quiet old friend, Father Thames, forgets himself when he falls into bad company. Gentlemen from Shad Thames and the Barbican, who have been to Margate, know very well what his conduct is. Instead of moving quietly along, as he has done all the way from Lechlade in Gloucestershire, no sooner does he get within hearing of the noise his bad acquaintance is making, than it seems as if Old Nick possessed him. He begins splashing, and dashing, and foaming about, just as if he had never seen a weeping willow or the Monument in his life; and exchanges his white-bait for porpoises, and his stately swans for cantankerous sea-gulls, whose pleasure seems to increase in proportion to the tumult. And, not contented with his own misconduct, he involves all the gentle company he has brought with him in the common disorder: there is the Loddon tossing about as if it had been a cataract all its life; the Mole seems to forget all about Mickleham Valley, and how quietly it has been accustomed to behave there; and the Kennet and Avon, which have come all the way from the Wiltshire Downs, where they were born in stillness among the Druids, take just as much upon them, and are as noisy, as if they had derived their parentage from a well-frequented metropolitan pump. No more need be said to prove the audacious character of this "agitator," whose inflammatory conduct makes everybody that comes in contact with him, as bad as himself. I should not have said so much about it, but I want to put down the sea, which, owing to gross misstatements andvile flattery, has acquired a credit and notoriety which it does not deserve; and this ought to be stopped, as it misleads people.

Having made up my mind to go to Hamburg, I bade adieu to my fond friends; and, having settled my London affairs, I prepared to go, and went.

At twelvep.m.on the night of Tuesday, August 13, 1836, it was my unhappy lot to emerge from hackney-coach No. 369, the number of which I had taken, knowing the state of my mind, for the better preservation of my valuables; fearing that, in my dread of approaching evils, I might forget either my valued trunk or my respected hat-box. Having emerged, my next act was, to ejaculate in as sonorous a voice as my flabby energies permitted, "Boat a-hoy!"

This cry brought to me a waterman of an "ancient and fish-like" appearance, who, for the filthy lucre of gain, agreed to transport my person and packages on board the Steam Navigation Company's steam ship, Britannia, carrying his majesty's mails, "warranted to perform the journey in fifty hours;" with a steward on board, and numerous other enticing particulars duly set forth in the bill of her performances. For all these advantages, the Steam Navigation Company expected no greater return than five pounds lawful money of Great Britain,—an expectation which I satisfied to the proper extent, and considered myself very fortunate.

Probably feeling much embarrassed by my gratitude on this occasion, I must have betrayed some little passing emotion on ascending the side of the vessel; as the naval person who offered me his hand as an assistance, took occasion to observe, "Never mind, sir; you'll soon be all right." Scarcely feeling entire confidence in this gentleman's statement, I entered the "splendid saloon," on the tables of which were the remains of certain spirituous liquors; faint and distant traces of which, ascending from below, enabled me to attribute their consumption to the various gentlemen there deposited, who were to be my fellow-passengers. "Below" is a very nasty, unpleasant, underground word of itself; but when it is coupled with the vile concomitants which a sea "below" embraces, it is still more distasteful.

Diving down the stairs with the sad impression that I had taken my last farewell of the upper world, I found my way to No. 14, which was the number of the "berth" in which I was to bestow, and did bestow accordingly, myself and luggage.

Before getting into bed, I thought I would see who and what the victims were, who were to be offered up on a common altar with myself.

I could, however, see nobody, as the curtains were all closed; and, therefore, trusting to the chance of finding somebody awake, I hazarded the general inquiry of "I beg your pardon, sir; did you speak?" There was, however, no reply; but certain of them snored lustily, and one, more portly than his fellows, puffed withal as though he were a grampus. Feeling I had made a vain attempt at opening a communication with my neighbours, I was obliged to undress myself, and get into bed with the unsatisfactory feeling that I might be drowned in company with twelve or fourteen individuals without even knowing their names.

And here allow me to observe that different people appear to have taken various views of the meaning of the term "bed," taken as asimple term. One gentleman apprehends it to mean a four-posted, ample convenience, provided with downy cushions and suitable appurtenances, wherein he may roll himself about, at pleasure, and enjoy all recumbent attitudes with freedom. Another, with less luxurious views, erects a dormitory with a circular roof, of smaller size, and less accommodations and comforts; and this, under the Christian name of "tent," is his "bed." There are also other sorts of beds, each differing from the others in comfort and appearance, in various degrees.

Most of these are extremely consistent with the personal comfort of the individual adopting them; but the "bed-maker" of the crib which I now occupied, had departed widely from all these well-approved and convenient plans, and conceived the comforts of a bed to consist in the following items:—one narrow, short trough of deal or oak plank, as may be; one mattress of half the same size, stuffed tightly with an unelastic, unyielding substance called "flock;" one oblong pillow of the same material and consistency; two blankets rather shorter than the mattress; two sheets rather shorter than the blankets; one counterpane rather shorter than the sheets; each declining in a sort of gradual progression, so that, if there had been fifty of them the last would have ended in a piece of tape, or a penny riband.

Making myself into as small, and the clothes into as large a heap as I could, just as one does with one's foot in a tight boot, I tranquilly awaited our departure, which was announced as punctually at twoa.m.

I must do them the justice to say that there never was an execution conducted more punctually to the moment for which it had been promised. As the clock struck two, a clanking of chains, which sounded just as if they were knocking off my fetters in another prison for the last time, and a continued shouting and tramping overhead, announced that they were weighing "the anchor." If it were half as heavy as my heart, how it must have fatigued them! We could hear—or rather I could hear (for it did not seem to wake the snorers or him who puffed)—all the din and hallooing above, just as well as if we had been on deck. Somebody kept swearing at somebody else, which somebody else seemed to take in very bad part, as I heard him say, "I arn't a going to put up with no gammon from a feller like you, as doesn't know an umbreller from a spring ini'n."

I didn't exactly believe that there could be anybody in these march-of-intellect days, incapable of distinguishing an umbrella from a spring onion, and therefore I felt this to be most unjustifiable abuse, whomsoever it was addressed to; but it was no business of mine, and I didn't care how much they abused each other, if they had only done it in a lower tone of voice, so as not to disturb me.

When the "tumult dwindled to a calm," a splash and a hiss, accompanied by the moving of the vessel, gave me intelligence that we were "off." As we dropped down the river, memory recalled the peaceful recreation of dining at Blackwall on white-bait; while certain matters which occurred at a Greenwich fair, stared me accusingly in the face.

Amid these reflections I fell into an uneasy slumber, which lasted till six, broken at intervals by various thumps on the deck, which seemed directed immediately at my head below. In the morning "the pie was opened, and the birds began to sing;" that is to say,my companions began to draw their dingy little curtains back, and gradually to unfold themselves. I found we consisted of fourteen souls and bodies,—ten Germans, and four of the same free and enlightened nation of which I have the honour to be a component part.

We chatted till about seven; and then one got up, and another got up, and, lastly, I myself got up and dressed; not, however, without a feeling that I had better have left well alone. When I got up on deck, I asked a sailor, "How's the wind?"—"Dead agin yer," was the satisfactory reply. I wasn't surprised.

While I dressed, I paid due attention to a request posted up over the washing-stands, "That gentlemen should refrain from throwing their shaving-paper into their basins, as it stopped up the pipes, andincreasedthe smell of the cabins." This of itself seemed a tacit acknowledgement of the existence of a very agreeable concomitant to our comforts,—as you can hardlyincreasea thing which did not previously exist; indeed there was no doubt about that, without any notice.

When we had all got up stairs by different instalments, after pacing the decks a little, we received a summons to breakfast. I endeavoured to sham an appetite, but it was no go; so I ate sparingly, being most distrustful of the future.

"Waiter!" cried one of the English,—a short, stout gentleman, in a dressing-gown,—"bring up the parcel in front of my berth."

"Sart'nly, sir!" replied the smart handman.

Up came the parcel; and, as I had heard the demand, I had the curiosity to see what came of it. The parcel turned out to be a nice brown-bread loaf, off which the owner cut a small slice, and carefully put it on a plate by his side. His neighbour on the other side then began talking to him, which diverted his attention from the loaf. His other neighbour, who had not seen where it came from, wanting some bread, and finding it at his elbow, helped himself; and a man, a little lower down, said,

"May I trouble you for the bread?"

"With pleasure, sir;" and another slice went, and so on, till the last remnant came round to the man who sat opposite the rightful owner, who was talking away still, with his friend, as if they had been settling the tithe question. He took the bit left, and began devouring it; and a pause having taken place in the conversation opposite, he said to the loaf-proprietor,

"For myself, I like brown bread just as well as white; what do you say?"

"Why,Iprefer it; and, not knowing that we should get it on board, I took the precaution of bringing a loaf with me, big enough to last me all the——"

As he spoke, he turned to illustrate his remark by showing the size of his loaf, when, to his dismay, he found nothing but the empty plate. I never shall forget his face. He first of all turned to the man who had addressed him, and into whose capacious mouth the last morsel was vanishing:

"Confound it, sir! that's my bread you're eating!"

Then to his next neighbour on his right:

"Was it you who took my loaf, sir?"

"Your loaf, sir? Who are you?"

"Yes, sir! I repeat, my loaf; my brown loaf."

"I certainly took a loaf, sir, and a brown loaf, which stood next to me; but whether it was yours or not I can't say; and I believe everybody else took it too!"

"Why, then it's gone!" It was.

Breakfast being over, we had but little to do, and nothing to divert our thoughts from our mournful position. I went fidgeting about, asking how the weather was. The answers were delightful. The wind was so violent and adverse that the captain thought it useless to go out to sea, and therefore intended to "bring up"—ominous term!—in Owesly Bay, near Harwich. The rain drove me into the "splendid saloon," which I would have bartered for a cellar in Fetterlane; and, after half an hour's doubt and wonder whether I was going round the world, or the world round me, I felt it not only prudent, but necessary, to seek greater privacy; and, after much sorrow and tempest of spirit, I got into my comfortable bed.

The captain was as good, or rather as bad, as his word. He "brought up" in Owesly Bay, and I will say no more than that the force of example was astonishing. How long we waited about in that sad bay, I cannot exactly say, as I had become insensible to the nice distinction between tossing up and down, and pitching and rolling at anchor, or going on. It was enough, and too much for me, that wedidtoss up and down, and pitch and roll.

So ended Wednesday the 14th. We were intended to arrive at Hamburg at two o'clock on Friday morning; but the adverse wind, and bringing up, seemed to throw a doubt over this.

Still it was not impossible, if the wind abated. Thursday morning was ushered in by numerous inquiries as to where we were. We were more than gratified by being told "Much where we were last night." This was told to me, who felt that I had signed a lease for my life, extending only to Friday, at twoA.M., as the longest possible time I could hold out; and that after that time the lease would be up, and I should be ejected from my mortal tenement.

The Germans who were on board ate and drank heartily, and wanted me to get up and shave. I thought that the chance of being drowned was enough, without the certainty of cutting my throat from ear to ear, which I should inevitably have done if I had attempted to use a razor in the state of the vessel's movements. They endeavoured to get me up, by touching my national pride.

"What! an Englishman afraid?" said they.

"No," answered I; "but very sick."

Thursday heard many groans, and, if it had eyes, might have seen many strange sights.

Friday morning, twoA.M.—the promised period of our arrival at the haven of our hopes—found us still wide at sea; and it was not till Friday evening that we heard the news that we were off the mouth of the Texel, one hundred miles from the Elbe, which was our destination. We were then in that sort of reckless state that we regarded distance as nothing,—one hundred miles seemed to me, much the same as one thousand; and I opened and shut my mouth in the agonies of despair, and something worse.

All this time I had continued in bed, eating what they brought me, not from any relish or appetite, but on the principle that if you are ina den with a roaring lion, and have a leg of mutton to give him, it is prudent to do so; and there was in my den with me an intolerant and savage spirit, which treated me exceedingly ill when I gave it nothing to wreak its fury upon, and showed but little gratitude when I did, either declining the proffered gifts, or only receiving them to render me more dejected by a speedy and contemptuous return.

Saturday morning early, we heard, with as much joy, and with as much interest as we could feel in anything, that we should soon be in the Elbe, and in tolerably smooth water. What ideas these sailors have of smooth water! I wonder if they ever look in a washing-basin?

As I lay waiting for the smooth water, I could not help anathematising those deceitful vagabonds, the poets, who write very pretty and pleasing lines about a tender affair they call a zephyr, and describe it as "softly sighing on a summer's eve," "lightly dancing on the moonlit lake," "mildly breaking over the bending corn," and a variety of agreeable and amiable habits. But these worthy gentlemen, who write in a comfortable arm-chair, little know the change which takes place in their sighing friend when a dozen or two of them club together to make a gale of wind for an afternoon's amusement. I wish I had had a score of these same poets on board,—the world would never have heard anything from them again about "bending corn!" A zephyr bears about the some proportion to a gale of wind as a Vauxhall slice of ham does to the "whole hog." However, all evils have an end, and ours began to conclude a little; for certainly I seemed to get a little better, and was well enough when we passed Heligoland—which is an island in the possession of his most gracious majesty, whom Heaven long preserve!—to sing lustily, and like a true Briton as I am,

"Send him victorious,Happy and glorious,Long to reign over us,God save the king!"

I then dressed myself, the water being still too rough to allow me to do anything but cut my throat with my razor; and went on deck, where I soon afterwards enjoyed the sight of green fields, and the villas which ornament the banks of the Elbe, with a most satisfactory view of Hamburg at no great distance.

And, now that I have brought myself to dry land, do I make a vow never again to make a long sea-voyage,—always excepting "leaving my country for my country's good," which may happen; but the Britannia, if she chooses "to rule the waves," never shall have me as an accomplice again, though

"The bark be stoutly timber'd, and the pilotOf very perfect and approv'd allowance."

BY BOZ.

SOME PARTICULARS CONCERNING A LION.

We have a great respect for lions in the abstract. In common with most other people, we have heard and read of many instances of their bravery and generosity. We have duly admired that heroic self-denial and charming philanthropy, which prompts them never to eat people except when they are hungry, and we have been deeply impressed with a becoming sense of the politeness they are said to display towards unmarried ladies of a certain state. All natural histories teem with anecdotes illustrative of their excellent qualities; and one old spelling-book in particular recounts a touching instance of an old lion of high moral dignity and stern principle, who felt it his imperative duty to devour a young man who had contracted a habit of swearing, as a striking example to the rising generation.

All this is extremely pleasant to reflect upon, and indeed says a very great deal in favour of lions as a mass. We are bound to state, however, that such individual lions as we have happened to fall in with, have not put forth any very striking characteristics, and have not acted up to the chivalrous character assigned them by their chroniclers. We never saw a lion in what is called his natural state, certainly; that is to say, we have never met a lion out walking in a forest, or crouching in his lair under a tropical sun waiting till his dinner should happen to come by, hot from the baker's. But we have seen some under the influence of captivity and the pressure of misfortune; and we must say that they appeared to us very apathetic, heavy-headed fellows.

The lion at the Zoological Gardens, for instance. He is all very well; he has an undeniable mane, and looks very fierce; but, Lord bless us! what of that? The lions of the fashionable world look just as ferocious, and are the most harmless creatures breathing. A box-lobby lion or a Regent-street animal will put on a most terrible aspect, and roar fearfully, if you affront him; but he will never bite, and, if you offer to attack him manfully, will fairly turn tail and sneak off. Doubtless these creatures roam about sometimes in herds, and, if they meet any especially meek-looking and peaceably-disposed fellow, will endeavour to frighten him; but the faintest show of a vigorous resistance is sufficient to scare them even then. These are pleasant characteristics, whereas we make it matter of distinct charge against the Zoological lion and his brethren at the fairs, that they are sleepy, dreamy, sluggish quadrupeds.

We do not remember to have ever seen one of them perfectly awake, except at feeding-time. In every respect we uphold thebiped lions against their four-footed namesakes, and we boldly challenge controversy upon the subject.

With these opinions it may be easily imagined that our curiosity and interest were very much excited the other day, when a lady of our acquaintance called on us and resolutely declined to accept our refusal of her invitation to an evening party; "for," said she, "I have got a lion coming." We at once retracted our plea of a prior engagement, and became as anxious to go, as we had previously been to stay away.

We went early and posted ourself in an eligible part of the drawing-room, from whence we could hope to obtain a full view of the interesting animal. Two or three hours passed, the quadrilles began, the room filled; but no lion appeared. The lady of the house became inconsolable,—for it is one of the peculiar privileges of these lions to make solemn appointments and never keep them,—when all of a sudden there came a tremendous double rap at the street-door, and the master of the house, after gliding out (unobserved as he flattered himself) to peep over the banisters, came into the room, rubbing his hands together with great glee, and cried out in a very important voice, "My dear, Mr. —— (naming the lion) has this moment arrived."

Upon this, all eyes were turned towards the door, and we observed several young ladies, who had been laughing and conversing previously with great gaiety and good-humour, grow extremely quiet and sentimental; while some young gentlemen, who had been cutting great figures in the facetious and smalltalk way, suddenly sank very obviously in the estimation of the company, and were looked upon with great coldness and indifference. Even the young man who had been ordered from the music-shop to play the pianoforte, was visibly affected, and struck several false notes in the excess of his excitement.

All this time there was a great talking outside, more than once accompanied by a loud laugh, and a cry of "Oh, capital! excellent!" from which we inferred that the lion was jocose, and that these exclamations were occasioned by the transports of his keeper and our host. Nor were we deceived; for when the lion at last appeared, we overheard his keeper, who was a little prim man, whisper to several gentlemen of his acquaintance, with uplifted hands and every expression of half-suppressed admiration, that —— (naming the lion again) was insuchcue to-night!

The lion was a literary one: of course there were a vast number of people present, who had admired his roarings, and were anxious to be introduced to him; and very pleasant it was to see them brought up for the purpose, and to observe the patient dignity with which he received all their patting and caressing. This brought forcibly to our mind what we had so often witnessed at country fairs, where the other lions are compelled to go through as many forms of courtesy as they chanceto be acquainted with, just as often as admiring parties happen to drop in upon them.

While the lion was exhibiting in this way, his keeper was not idle, for he mingled among the crowd, and spread his praises most industriously. To one gentleman he whispered some very choice thing that the noble animal had said in the very act of coming up stairs, which, of course, rendered the mental effort still more astonishing; to another he murmured a hasty account of a grand dinner that had taken place the day before, where twenty-seven gentlemen had got up all at once to demand an extra cheer for the lion; and to the ladies he made sundry promises of interceding to procure the majestic brute's sign-manual for their albums. Then, there were little private consultations in different corners, relative to the personal appearance and stature of the lion; whether he was shorter than they had expected to see him, or taller, or thinner, or fatter, or younger, or older; whether he was like his portrait or unlike it; and whether the particular shade of his eyes was black, or blue, or hazel, or green, or yellow, or mixture. At all these consultations the keeper assisted; and, in short, the lion was the sole and single subject of discussion till they sat him down to whist, and then the people relapsed into their old topics of conversation—themselves and each other.

We must confess that we looked forward with no slight impatience to the announcement of supper; for if you wish to see a tame lion under particularly favourable circumstances, feeding-time is the period of all others to pitch upon. We were therefore very much delighted to observe a sensation among the guests, which we well knew how to interpret, and immediately afterwards to behold the lion escorting the lady of the house down stairs. We offered our arm to an elderly female of our acquaintance, who—dear old soul!—is the very best person that ever lived, to lead down to any meal; for, be the room ever so small or the party ever so large, she is sure, by some intuitive perception of the eligible, to push and pull herself and conductor close to the best dishes on the table;—we say we offered our arm to this elderly female, and, descending the stairs shortly after the lion, were fortunate enough to obtain a seat nearly opposite him.

Of course the keeper was there already. He had planted himself at precisely that distance from his charge which afforded him a decent pretext for raising his voice, when he addressed him, to so loud a key as could not fail to attract the attention of the whole company, and immediately began to apply himself seriously to the task of bringing the lion out, and putting him through the whole of his manœvres. Such flashes of wit as he elicited from the lion! First of all they began to make puns upon a salt-cellar, and then upon the breast of a fowl, and then upon the trifle; but the best jokes of all were decidedly on thelobster-salad, upon which latter subject the lion came out most vigorously, and, in the opinion of the most competent authorities, quite outshone himself. This is a very excellent mode of shining in society, and is founded, we humbly conceive, upon the classic model of the dialogues between Mr. Punch and his friend the proprietor, wherein the latter takes all the up-hill work, and is content to pioneer to the jokes and repartees of Mr. P. himself, who never fails to gain great credit and excite much laughter thereby. Whatever it be founded on, however, we recommend it to all lions, present and to come; for in this instance it succeeded to admiration, and perfectly dazzled the whole body of hearers.

When the salt-cellar, and the fowl's breast, and the trifle, and the lobster-salad were all exhausted, and could not afford standing-room for another solitary witticism, the keeper performed that very dangerous feat which is still done with some of the caravan lions, although in one instance it terminated fatally, of putting his head in the animal's mouth, and placing himself entirely at its mercy. Boswell frequently presents a melancholy instance of the lamentable results of this achievement, and other keepers and jackals have been terribly lacerated for their daring. It is due to our lion to state, that he condescended to be trifled with, in the most gentle manner, and finally went home with the showman in a hack cab: perfectly peaceable, but slightly fuddled.

Being in a contemplative mood, we were led to make some reflections upon the character and conduct of this genus of lions as we walked homewards, and we were not long in arriving at the conclusion that our former impression in their favour was very much strengthened and confirmed by what we had recently seen. While the other lions receive company and compliments in a sullen, moody, not to say snarling manner, these appear flattered by the attentions that are paid them; while those conceal themselves to the utmost of their power from the vulgar gaze, these court the popular eye, and, unlike their brethren, whom nothing short of compulsion will move to exertion, are ever ready to display their acquirements to the wondering throng. We have known bears of undoubted ability who, when the expectations of a large audience have been wound up to the utmost pitch, have peremptorily refused to dance; well-taught monkeys, who have unaccountably objected to exhibit on the slack-wire; and elephants of unquestioned genius, who have suddenly declined to turn the barrel-organ: but we never once knew or heard of a biped lion, literary or otherwise,—and we state it as a fact which is highly creditable to the whole species,—who, occasion offering, did not seize with avidity on any opportunity which was afforded him, of performing to his heart's content on the first violin.

One of the most south-western points of Ireland is the promontory of Bohis, which forms the northern shore of the bay of Balinskeligs. A singular conformation of rock is observable upon the extremity of the wild cape, it being worn by the incessant beating of the billows into a grotesque resemblance of the human profile. The waves, however, are not suffered to claim undisputed this rude sculpture as their own; a far different origin being attributed to it by the legends of the country around. The following is the legend, as told to us.

In times long, very long ago,—prior even to that early age when Milesius came over from Spain, to plant in Ireland the prolific tribes of theO's and theMac's,—Bohis Head, instead of the abrupt, broken cliffs that now terminate it, presented a lofty and uniform wall of rock to the assaults of the Atlantic. Upon the topmost summit (much about where now stand the unfinished walls of one of those desirable winter-residences, the coast watch-towers, built atthe endof the last war,) there stood, at the period of our tale, the castle of a very celebrated personage, generally known in those parts as the Baon Ri Dhuv,—in plain English, "The Black Lady,"—a title partly bestowed on her, on account of her dark hair and face, and partly on account of the cruelty and tyranny which she exercised upon all those who were subject to her dominion. She must have been redoubtable in no small degree, as, besides the possession of a large army, which she could at any time collect from her numerous array of vassals, she was a deep proficient in the art of magic, and was even said to have once, by the potency of her spells, prevented a drop of rain from falling upon her territories (which included the whole of Munster) for a week together. But as the south of Ireland at least has never since been known to be so long without showers, this feat is not so implicitly believed as other of the traditions about her. However that may be, this at least is certain, that she wanted for nothing that force or fraud, fair means or means the most unholy, could give her; and she was deemed the happiest as well as the most powerful being in the world.

Those who said this, did not judge truly. In the midst of all her splendour and state, caressed, feared, flattered, obeyed as she was by all, she was not happy; and it is strange that her tenants and servants did not find this out, as her usual method of easing her feelings was by ill-treating and abusing them. But they were, in all probability, too much afraid of her to call even their thoughts their own, for fear of being metamorphosed into goats, or cows, or some other species of beasts; a change of life which, from the scanty grazing of the neighbouring mountain pastures, they did not deem very inviting. She wasnothappy; and simply because, among her myriad of vassals, flatterers, and slaves, she had not onefriend. There was the whole secret. In her inmost soul she—that proud, tyrannical, haughty, hard-hearted woman—felt that, all feared and all potent as she was, she still was no more than mortal; and that within her own breast there was that which tyrannised over herself,—the innate longings of our nature for sympathy, for companionship, for affection. The humblest hind that served her, had a comrade,—a friend; while she, the queen and mistress of all, was the object of detestation as universal as the slavish obedience that met her at every step. At first shescoffed and spurned at the dull internal aching; it was a weakness, she thought, that needed but to be fought against, to be for ever quelled. She sought wars and conflicts; she dived deeper than ever before into the unholy mysteries of the "Black Art;" she revelled, she feasted, and she succeeded in quelling the rebel feeling for a time,—but only for a time. There came a reaction to her excitement; and, while her spirits and all else seemed exhausted and worn out, this dull yearning was stronger and more aching than ever. At length, one day, after a long and painful reverie, she started up, striking her forehead violently, and vowed that she would have a friend,—a companion,—nay, even (as her sentimentality increased with indulgence) ahusband,—or perish in the attempt! As the oath passed her lips, a tremendous peal of thunder rolled over the castle towers and passed off to seaward, dying away in the distance with a sound not unlike a wild and prolonged shout of laughter.

She had not much time to lose, if she intended to marry. The little servant-boy, who had been allowed to get drunk on the night of rejoicings for her birth, was now a grave and sedate major-domo of most venerable age. She herself, but some fifteen or sixteen years his junior, was long past the time when the grossest flattery could make her believe that she was young; and her years had not passed over her head without leaving their traces behind. She had been in her best days what is called by friends "rather plain," which generally means "very ugly." Her forehead bowed out and overhung her nose, which endeavoured to stretch out to some decent length, but was unfortunately foiled by the want of a bridge. The mouth, as if it perceived this failure on the part of the feature immediately above it, modestly declined the contest, and retreated far inward. The chin, however, amply made up for all intermediate deficiencies, and even surpassed the forehead in the hugeness of its proportions, ordisproportions. Her hair was black, as has been said, and hung in long, lanky clusters about her face. Time seldom improves the human countenance, and certainly made no exception in favour of the Baon Ri Dhuv. At the time of her vow many wrinkles had made their appearance, and unequivocal grey hairs chequered the once uniform sable that covered her head. Magic had not then arrived at the pitch of perfection to which it afterwards attained in the times of Virgilius and Apollonius Rhodius; and, among the inventions yet in the womb of time, were the charms for restoring youth and imparting beauty.

The lady of the castle set off, one fine morning, on the back of a cloud which she had hailed as it was drifting over her chimney-tops, driven inland by the fresh breeze from the ocean. As she was borne along, she looked anxiously right and left down upon the earth, to spy out, if possible, the desired companion. But she found she had grown very fastidious, now that the means of ridding herself of her troublesome desires appeared open to her. She looked at no women; she felt instinctively that none of her own sex could be the friend that would satisfy her heart: but all the young men that she passed over, she scrutinized, as if her life depended upon it. They in their turn stared a good deal at her, as well they might; for it was no common thing, even in those days, to see a woman perched up on a cloud, sailing over your head before a rattling breeze of wind. Perhaps it was their staring at her, so different from the downcast eyesand humble mien of her slaves at home,—perhaps it was their rude remarks that displeased her; whatever it was, on she went without making her choice, until towards the close of the day she found she had nearly crossed Ireland in a diagonal line from south-west to north-east, the wind blowing in that direction. As it still blew merrily, and it was full-moon night, she determined to go on to Scotland, and try whether Sawnie could please her, better then Paddy. With this resolve she had not proceeded more than half a league from the shore of Ireland, when she perceived she was going over a mountain-islet some five or six miles in girth, and apparently very fertile in its soil, for large herds of cattle were grazing upon its sides. It is a trite and true saying, that those who possess much, are often covetous of more; and in her case it was especially true. With a word she stayed the cloud over the island; the wind falling all at once, in obedience to her will. If there were any of the old Vikingir, those daring privateersmen of ancient times, that night upon the waters, how they and their fierce crews must have heaped maledictions on the unseen power that quelled the merry breeze before which they were late careering gaily with bended mast and bellying sail, and summoned them to ply the labouring oar throughout the hours they had vainly hoped to give to slumber! But the Black Lady was not a person to care much for such trifles as curses. If she had been so, she would have led an extremely uncomfortable life, for she had merited a good many of them in her time. Over the island she hung, gazing down upon it, and gloating on its richness and fertility, while she inwardly resolved to strain her magical powers to the utmost, to transfer it from its present position to the neighbourhood of her own coast. Her attention, however, was soon withdrawn from all other objects, and concentrated on one that had just caught her eye: it was a young man, the only one she had as yet seen who did not stare up at her, rudely and impertinently. Indeed he did not look up at all. He seemed to have no eyes, no soul, for any one but a young girl who was by his side. The lady on the cloud could see by the moonlight that the girl's face was exceedingly beautiful; that is to say, as much as could be perceived of it when she occasionally, and but for a moment, raised her eyes from the ground, on which they were riveted.

"Speak! will you not speak to me?" were the words of the young man: "but one word, Eva,—dearest Eva,—to tell me have I offended by my boldness?"

The girl blushed ten times deeper than before, and her lips quivered as at length she slowly murmured out, "No, Conla!"

"Thanks! thanks!" was his rapturous exclamation; "a thousand times thanks, my own, my ... Hallo! what is this? Whence come you?" These latter words were addressed to the Black Lady, as, to his utter astonishment, she alighted from the cloud right in his path. Eva shrieked, and hid her face in his bosom.

"I am the Baon Ri Dhuv," said the enchantress, trying to look dignified, and to smooth away the scowl that had darkened her visage since she perceived his companion,—"the Queen of the South!"

"And what can the Baon Ri Dhuv, the Queen of the South, want with Conla, a shepherd of the north?"

"Young man, mock me not," replied she, frowning most awfully: "you know not, but you may be made tofeel, my power. Listen to me," continued she in a milder tone, and putting on what sheintended to be a most amiable and engaging look; but which gave her coarse lineaments a still more grotesque hideousness, that almost made the young shepherd laugh in her face, despite the secret dread he felt creeping on his heart. "I am the ruler of a vast tract of country; I have a vast army to do my will; nay, more, I have dominion over the elements in their fiercest rage, and spirits obey my bidding. I am rich beyond counting. You smile, and believe not. Look here!"

As she spoke, she struck the ground three times with her foot, muttering rapidly to herself, when up sprang close to her, a tall tree of the purest gold, the glittering branches laden with jewels beyond all price. Seizing one of these, a magnificent emerald, and pulling it off the branch, again she stamped her foot, and the tree disappeared, leaving the jewel in her hands.

"Here," continued she, putting it into Conla's passive hand, "here is earnest of my wealth; leave that weak girl, and come with me to wealth and happiness!"

Conla had hitherto been kept dumb by the strange scene before him; but now, rousing himself, he looked at his Eva, and meeting her gaze of deep, whole-hearted, confiding affection, he dashed the glittering jewel on the ground, and cried,

"Away, sorceress! I spurn your gifts, your accursed power, yourself! With Eva will I live or die!"

The face of the Black Lady showed horrible in the pale moonlight, as, with a withering scowl of hatred and vengeance, she again spoke:

"You shall not die, insolent wretch! You shall live in agonies to which death were mercy; ay, and she, too,—that worthless thing you prefer to me,—she, too, shall suffer!"

As she spoke, she described a circle in the air with her hand round the island. At once the moon became obscured, and a terrible darkness fell upon all, while a sudden storm swept over the island. Conla and his Eva tried to fly to some cave for refuge, but were arrested by the sight that met their eyes when the transitory darkness cleared away. The moon again shone out brilliantly, and by its light the lovers perceived, to their great horror, that the island itself was in motion! A little ahead of its southernmost point their persecutor was scudding over the waters in a bark, the traditional accounts of which, represent it as a good deal resembling the steam-boats of modern days, for there was smoke issuing out of it; and two or three respectable individuals, with black faces, fiery eyes, horns on their heads, and tails twirled in graceful folds, might be seen through an open hatchway, employed in much the same manner as the hard-working, hard-drinking steam-packet engineers of our own times, while a clacking and clanging of iron was continually heard, similar to the sounds that annoy sea-sick passengers at present. From the taffrail of this inviting-looking vessel, three or four strong cables stretched to the island, and were rove through an immense hole in a huge projecting rock, that seemed as if it had been bored for this especial purpose. The steamer tugged gallantly, and the island plashed and splashed heavily along, at the rate of twenty or thirty knots an hour: the cows and sheep upon the latter, not having their sea-legs aboard, tumbled and rolled about in fine style. Eva got exceedingly sea-sick, and Conla exceedingly indignant: but there was no use in his anger. On the island went.

On and on,—past Belfast, Drogheda, Dublin,—rattling and splashing along, greatly to the astonishment of the fishes, who, besides being then quite unaccustomed to public steaming, had never before seen an island on the move. Between Dublin and Holyhead there was a little difficulty; for the island, which was exceedingly unmanageable, fetched away to starboard, and took the ground a little outside of Howth. This was a cause of great delight to the lovers, who thought their voyage was now at an end; but they were much mistaken; two of the amiable gentry who manned the tug-boat jumped lightly on the island, and cut away with a couple of strokes of an axe the part that was aground, it breaking into two pieces, which remain to this day, proof of the truth of this tale, under the names of Lambay and Ireland's Eye. On went the steamer again, and on went the island merrily and clumsily as ever, and the Black Lady looked back and laughed at the disappointed lovers.

Wicklow went by,—Wexford,—and now the shores of the county Waterford hove in sight; and the vessel and island, rounding Point Carnsore in gallant style, issued out from the Irish Channel into the waters of the Atlantic.

Morning had broken by this time, and a bright and beautiful morning it was. Eva, overpowered by fatigue, had sunk to sleep; Conla sate beside her, deep anxiety lowering on his brow, and his soul rent with the most agonizing emotions. Meantime his body was just as much disturbed, for the island was now heaving and pitching worse than before, upon the longer billows of the ocean; and he occasionally had to hold on with both his hands to the stones and shrubs near him, to prevent himself from being what sailors would call "hove overboard" by the violent motion of the strange craft in, or ratheron, which he was embarked. Disliking his situation exceedingly, and greatly fearing that he would have still more reason to do so, he saw that there was no chance of his delivery from it, if he could not succeed in mollifying the enraged enchantress. Espying her again seated upon the steamer's taffrail, he therefore hailed her, and sought by humble prayers and entreaties to induce her to release him and his Eva; or, if one should suffer, to set her free, and vent the heaviest vengeance upon his head. But the Black Lady let him talk on. He had a very sweet voice, and she liked to hear that; and, when he had done, she contented herself with simply shaking her head in token of refusal: then, as he again stooped his proud spirit to still more vehement entreaties and supplications, and raved in the intensity of his anguish, she mocked at him, and laughed loud and long in scorn, till at length, wearied out and despairing, he sunk his head upon his bosom, and was silent. Slowly the day wore on, but quickly the headlands and bays of the southern shore of Ireland glided by; and great was the wonder and amaze of those who looked to seaward from that shore. Many were the noble fishes left that day in the depths of the ocean with the barbed hook fast in their jaws, as the wild natives of the coast, in terror at the sight of the demon vessel and her charge, hove overboard their rude fishing-gear to lighten their frail coracles, and plied sail and oar to seek refuge on the land. It has been even surmised that it was some such sight as this, that scared that first great geographer, Ptolemy, and made him fly the Irish coast ere he had completed his survey. However, this is a point that has never been fully ascertained.

The sun was sinking gloriously into the bosom of the slow-heaving main as the steamer, with the island in tow, rounded Dursey Head, and hove in sight of their destination, the promontory of Bohis. With exultation in her eyes, the Baon Ri Dhuv pointed out her lofty castle, shining in the distance with the last rays of the departing orb of day. Eva was now awake, and her and Conla's supplications were poured out for mercy and for pity; but they might as well have been uttered to Bohis Head itself. The leagues between the latter place and Dursey Head were rapidly traversed, and now the island had been towed within a mile of its final destination, which was the promontory on which the castle stood. At this moment another sudden storm, such as that of the preceding night, passed athwart the scene; and, when it cleared away, the steamer had disappeared, and the Black Lady was to be seen, upon the headland tugging at the island to bring it closer.

"Is there no help in Heaven!" cried Conla, as, after another appeal in vain to their persecutor, he threw his eyes up with a reproachful glance.

"Hush, Conla! reproach not the powers above; they are most merciful, and will protect us. Hark! they answer!"

At this moment a heavy peal of thunder crashed over head, and, rolling towards the castle, seemed to expend itself over its summit.

"Dread lady," cried Eva, animated to unusual courage by the omen, "hearken to that, and yield to the powers of Heaven!—they declare against thy tyranny!"

"Never!" roared the tyrant, her eyes flashing baleful fire. "Sooner will I become part of this mountain on which I stand mistress, than ye shall escape me!"

As she spoke, she gave a pull with her utmost strength to the chains. At the moment a vivid flash of lightning darted from the clouds, and the chains snapped right asunder. With the force of the shock the Black Lady was precipitated into the sea, the island at the same time rebounding back and becoming fixed for ever about halfway between Dursey and Bohis Head.

The Baon Ri Dhuv's tenants and servants spent the night in vainly searching for her. The morning revealed to them a terrible sight. Upon the extremity of the cape her well-known visage appeared, but transformed to stone, and doomed for ages to remain there, lashed by the raging billows of the ocean. Thus was her fatal wish accomplished!

The island so strangely brought round, remains where it recoiled to, and is now known by the name of Scariff. It is still rich land, and feeds many herds; a strong proof of the authenticity of this tale, and which is farther borne out by the fact, that the hole through which the towing-chains were rove remains to this hour. Conla and Eva lived happily for the rest of their days where they were, and left a numerous progeny. It is said that the little old man who, with his strapping offspring, fourteen in number, now tenants the island, is their lineal descendant. The emerald that Conla threw away was afterwards found, and preserved as a memorial of the events narrated until the times of Cromwell; when some of his soldiers, having visited the island for the laudable purpose of killing a friar who lived there as a hermit, indulged another of their virtuous propensities by carrying the jewel away with them.

SAM LOVER AND OVIDIUS NASO.

BY FATHER PROUT.

TO THE EDITOR OFBENTLEY'S MISCELLANY.

Sir,—Under the above title I forward you two more scraps fromWater-grass-hill.

The first is a glee in praise of poverty, a subject on which poets of every country have a common understanding. The ItalianBerni, indeed, went a step farther when he sang the "comforts of being in debt,"—La laude del debito; but your enthusiast never knows where to stop. This MS. may suit in the present state of the money market,—a bill drawn by Burns and endorsed by Beranger. You can rely on the Scotchman's signature,experto crede Roberto; while there can be no doubt that the French songster's financial condition fully entitles him to join Burns in an attempt of this kind. Since, however, much spurious paper appears to be afloat, you will use your own discretion as to the foreign acceptance.

Of Scrap No. VI. I say nothing, Doctor Prout having left a note on the subject prefixed to the same. Yours, &c.

Rory O'Dryscull.

Water-grass-hill, April 20.

ScrapNo. V.

ScrapNo. VI.

Possevino, in hisHistory of the Gonzagas, (fol. Mantua, 1620,) tells us, at page 781, that a Polish army, having penetrated to the Euxine, found the ashes, with many MSS. of Ovid under a marble monument, which they transferred in pomp to Cracow,A.D.1581. It is well known that the exiled Roman had written sundry poems in barbaric metre to gratify the Scythian and Getic literati with whom he was surrounded. We have his own words for it:

Back to Index Next