POINT VII.

But och! they catch'd him at the last,And bound him in a dungeon fast;My curse upon them every one,They've hang'd my brawJohn Highlandman.Sing, hey,&c.

VI.

And now a widow I must mourn,Departed joys that ne'er return;No comfort but a hearty can,When I think onJohn Highlandman.Sing, hey,&c.

RECITATIVO.

A pigmy scraper wi' his fiddle,Wha us'd to trystes and fairs to driddle.Her strappen limb an' gausy middle,(He reach'd na higher,)Had hol'd his heartie like a riddle,An' blawn't on fire.W' hand on hainch, an' upward e'e,He croon'd his gamut,one,two,three,Then in an arioso key,The wee ApolloSet off wi'allegrettogleeHisgiga solo.

A pigmy scraper wi' his fiddle,Wha us'd to trystes and fairs to driddle.Her strappen limb an' gausy middle,(He reach'd na higher,)Had hol'd his heartie like a riddle,An' blawn't on fire.

W' hand on hainch, an' upward e'e,He croon'd his gamut,one,two,three,Then in an arioso key,The wee ApolloSet off wi'allegrettogleeHisgiga solo.

AIR.

Tune—Whistle owre the lave o't.

Let me ryke up to dight that tear,An' go wi' me an' be mydear;An' then your everycareandfearMay whistle owre the lave o't.

CHORUS.

I am a fidler to my trade,An' a' the tunes that e'er I play'd,The sweetest still to wife or maid,Was, whistle owre the lave o't.At kirns an' weddins we'se be there,An' O sae nicely's we will fare!We'll bowse about till Dadie CareSing whistle owre the lave o't.I am, &c.

I am a fidler to my trade,An' a' the tunes that e'er I play'd,The sweetest still to wife or maid,Was, whistle owre the lave o't.

At kirns an' weddins we'se be there,An' O sae nicely's we will fare!We'll bowse about till Dadie CareSing whistle owre the lave o't.I am, &c.

Man with rapier confronting another man

Sae merrily's the banes we'll pyke,An' sun oursells about the dyke;An' at our leisure when ye likeWe'll—whistle owre the lave o't.I am, &c.But bless me wi' your heav'n o' charms,And while I kittle[12]hair on thairms,Hunger, cauld, an' a' sic harmsMay whistle owre the lave o't.I am, &c.

Sae merrily's the banes we'll pyke,An' sun oursells about the dyke;An' at our leisure when ye likeWe'll—whistle owre the lave o't.I am, &c.

But bless me wi' your heav'n o' charms,And while I kittle[12]hair on thairms,Hunger, cauld, an' a' sic harmsMay whistle owre the lave o't.I am, &c.

RECITATIVO.

Her charms had struck a sturdyCaird[13],As weel as poorGutscraper;He taks the fiddler by the beard,An' draws a roosty rapier—He swoor by a' was swearing worth,To speet him like a pliver,Unless he would from that time forthRelinquish her for ever:Wi' ghastly e'e, poortweedle-dee,Upon his hunkers[14]bended,An' pray'd for grace wi' ruefu' face,An' so the quarrel ended;But tho' his little heart did grieve,When round thetinkerprest her,He feign'd to snirtle in his sleeve,When thus theCairdaddress'd her

Wi' ghastly e'e, poortweedle-dee,Upon his hunkers[14]bended,An' pray'd for grace wi' ruefu' face,An' so the quarrel ended;But tho' his little heart did grieve,When round thetinkerprest her,He feign'd to snirtle in his sleeve,When thus theCairdaddress'd her

AIR.

Tune—Clout the Caudron.

My bonie lass I work in brass,A tinkler is my station;I've travell'd round all Christian groundIn this my occupation;I've ta'en the gold, I've been enroll'dIn many a noble squadron;But vain they search'd, when off I march'dTo go an' clout the caudron.I've ta'en the gold,&c.

II.

Despise that shrimp, that wither'd imp,With a' his noise an' caprin;An' take a share with those that bearThe budget an' the apron!An' by that stowp, my faith an' houpe,An' by that dear Kilbaigie[15]!If e'er ye want, or meet with scant,May I ne'er weet my craigie.An' by that stowp, &c.

RECITATIVO.

The Caird prevail'd—th' unblushing fairIn his embraces sunk;Partly wi' love o'ercome sa sair,An' partly she was drunk:Sir Violino, with an air,That show'd a man o' spunk,Wish'd unison between the pair,An' made the bottle clunkTo their health that night.But hurchin Cupid shot a shaft,That play'd a dame a shavie—A sailor rak'd her fore and aft,Behind the chicken cavie.Her lord a wight o' Homer's craft,Tho' limpan wi' the spavie,He hirpl'd up an' lap like daft,Anshor'd[16]themDainty DavieO'boot that night.He was a care-defying blade,As ever Bacchus listed!Tho' fortune sair upon him laid,His heart, she ever miss'd it:He had no wish but—to be glad,Nor want but—when he thirsted;He hated nought but—to be sad,An' thus the Muse suggestedHis sang that night.

But hurchin Cupid shot a shaft,That play'd a dame a shavie—A sailor rak'd her fore and aft,Behind the chicken cavie.Her lord a wight o' Homer's craft,Tho' limpan wi' the spavie,He hirpl'd up an' lap like daft,Anshor'd[16]themDainty DavieO'boot that night.

He was a care-defying blade,As ever Bacchus listed!Tho' fortune sair upon him laid,His heart, she ever miss'd it:He had no wish but—to be glad,Nor want but—when he thirsted;He hated nought but—to be sad,An' thus the Muse suggestedHis sang that night.

AIR.

Tune—for a' that, an' a' that.

I am a bard of no regardWi' gentle-folks, an' a' that;But Homer-like, the glowran byke[17],Frae town to town I draw that.

CHORUS.

For a' that, an' a' that,An' twice as muckle's a' that,I've lost but ane, I've twa behin',I'vewife eneughfor a' that.

II.

I never drank the Muses'tank,Castalia's burn an' a' that;But there it streams, an' richly reamsMyHeliconI ca' that.For a' that,&c.

III.

Great love I bear to all the Fair,Their humble slave, an' a' that;But lordly Will, I hold it stillA mortal sin to thraw that.For a' that,&c.

IV.

In raptures sweet, this hour we meet,Wi' mutual love an' a' that;But for how lang the flie may stang,Let Inclination law that.For a' that,&c.

Their tricks an' craft hae put me daft,They've ta'en me in, an' a' that;But clear your decks, an' here'sthe Sex!I like the jads for a' that.For a' that, an a' that,An' twice as muckle's a' that,My dearest bluid, to do them guid,They're welcome till't for a' that.

Their tricks an' craft hae put me daft,They've ta'en me in, an' a' that;But clear your decks, an' here'sthe Sex!I like the jads for a' that.

For a' that, an a' that,An' twice as muckle's a' that,My dearest bluid, to do them guid,They're welcome till't for a' that.

Singers

RECITATIVO.

So sung theBard—and Nansie's wawsShook wi' a thunder of applauseRe-echo'd from each mouth!They toom'd[18]their pokes, they pawn'd their duds[19],They scarcely left to coor their fuds,To quench their lowan drouth.Then owre again, the jovial thrang,The poet did request,To lowse his pack an' wale a sang,A ballad o' the best.He, rising, rejoicing,Between histwa Debōrahs,Looks round him, an' found themImpatient for the chorus.

Then owre again, the jovial thrang,The poet did request,To lowse his pack an' wale a sang,A ballad o' the best.He, rising, rejoicing,Between histwa Debōrahs,Looks round him, an' found themImpatient for the chorus.

AIR.

Tune—jolly mortals, fill your glasses.

See! the smoking bowl before us,Mark our jovial, ragged ring!Round and round take up the chorus,And in raptures let us sing—A fig for those by law protected,Liberty'sa glorious feast!Courts for cowards were erected,Churches built to please the priest.

II.

What is title, what is treasure,What is reputation's care?If we lead a life of pleasure,'Tis no matter how or where.A fig, &c.

III.

With the ready trick and fable,Round we wander all the day;And at night, in barn or stable,Hug our doxies on the hay.A fig, &c.

Group gathered in a tavern

IV.

Does the train-attended carriageThro' the country lighter rove?Does the sober bed of marriageWitness brighter scenes of love?A fig, &c.

Life is all avariorum,We regard not how it goes;Let them cant about decorumWho have character to lose.A fig, &c.

VI.

Here's tobudgets,bags, andwallets!Here's to all the wandering train!Here'sour ragged brats and callets!One and all cry out,Amen!A fig for those by law protected,Liberty'sa glorious feast!Courts for cowards were erected,Churches built to please the priest.

Here's tobudgets,bags, andwallets!Here's to all the wandering train!Here'sour ragged brats and callets!One and all cry out,Amen!

A fig for those by law protected,Liberty'sa glorious feast!Courts for cowards were erected,Churches built to please the priest.

People at a campfire

In the year of 1460, Revel was governed by a General, whose name was John of Mengden; a worthy old man, who loved his glass of wine, and had the gout; for wine and the gout are sister's children. It was his custom to ride out occasionally on a black horse down to the shores of the Baltic, whence he continued his way to a convent of nuns consecrated to St. Bridget. This nunnery, which was called Marianthal, was situated about a mile from the town, and its ruins are inhabited by owls and ravens.

On one of these excursions he was accompanied by the Lord Marshal, Gothard of Plettenberg.

As they approached the convent wall, the Marshal's horse became suddenly restive. "Have you heard," said he, "the strange stories of the subterraneous passage, and that it winds in intricate mazes round the cloister?"——"No;" replied John of Mengden, "but I should like to hear them over a bottle; you shall relate them to me in the evening." "It may be done now, and in a few words," rejoined the other; "for westand exactly before the subterraneous passage, or mouth of the cavern; but for fifty years, not a human foot has advanced beyond the bottom of the steps, there the torches are always blown out."

The burgomaster of Revel, who was then with them, made a cross on his breast, and confirmed the statement. "Sometimes," continued Gothard, "are heard, during the night, the sounds of soft music, arising slowly and melodiously from the cave, like the sweet tones of musical glasses, with an accompaniment of the songs of angels. The holy sisters of the convent are frequent listeners to this divine harmony, though none of the words can be understood." "Let the venerable Lady Abbess come down to me," said the general, as he alighted from his horse, and placed his glove in his sword-belt. The Abbess now appeared, veiled. She modestly curtsied to the knight, and presented him with a cup of Spanish wine. The old General laid himself down on the grass, and asked the sainted lady if she could give him any information relative to the subterraneous passage? The Abbess replied in the affirmative, adding a number of particulars concerning what she and her pious sisters had seen,—and fancied they had seen—heard, and fancied they had heard.

"So God and St. Vitus help me!" exclaimed the governor, "I will myself make an attempt to descend into the cavern; give me a lighted, consecrated torch."

The burgomaster crossed himself all over. A cold shivering seized him; the only vault into which he had been accustomed to descend, was the town-cellar, which was haunted by none butchoice spirits, with which he was familiar.

The lady Abbess entreated the old man not to undertake so rash an enterprize; and assured him, that thespirits of former times, unlike those of the present day, would not allow themselves to be sported with. But in arguing with the brave old General, they talked to the wind which blew over the Baltic. The consecrated torches were brought, the corpulent General repeated an Ave-Maria, recommended himself to St. Vitus, his protecting Saint, and courageously entered the mysterious passage. The sound of his feet was still heard on the steps; his breathing was still audible, and the glimmer of his torch played on the damp walls. On a sudden all was silent, and the light disappeared. The listeners above were on the stretch of attention. Gothard was stationed on the upper step; the burgomaster a few paces further back; and behind him stood the Abbess, her rosary running through her fingers. They listened, but all was still! "Holloa there, John of Mengden!—how fare you?" thundered the voice of Gothard; yet all was still as the grave. The listeners were alarmed; they inclined their ears; they stood lightly on tip-toe; they restrained their breath—not a sound ascended. The cavern yawned before them, and all was silent below; "Holy St. Bridget! what can have happened? Let the priests be summoned, and mass be said, to appease the spirits!"

The lady Abbess hastened to the convent, rang the chapel-bell, when all the pious sisterhood hurried from their cells, fell upon their bare knees, chastizing themselves, and praying to heaven for mercy towards the old General. The burgomaster threw himself upon his horse, and trotted back to the town to impart the terrible news to his wife, children and domestics. Gothard, who was a courageous knight, alone remained, absorbed in gloomy reflection, leaning against the wall, with his eyes fixed on the darkness beneath. Thus he continuedduring two hours. At last he thought he heard on the steps some one breathing and struggling.—"John of Mengden!" he vociferated—"are you alive, or dead?"—"I am alive!" replied the General, half breathless, as he stumbled up the steps. "Thanks to God and St. Bridget!—we have been in agony on your account. Where have you been? What have you heard or seen?" The General then related that he had quietly descended, with the consecrated taper in his hand; that his heart beat a little as he advanced; that a cold shiver had begun to seize him; but that he took courage, as his taper burnt always clear and bright: that at length he stood on the bottom step, and looked down an endless passage, doubtful whether, under the protection of St. Bridget, he should move forward or backward; that suddenly he was surrounded by a lukewarm breeze, mild and fragrant, as if wafted over a bed of flowers, which in a moment extinguished his taper, and so clouded his senses, that he sunk like a dead man on the steps, and then lay a considerable time in a sort of trance; that at last he awoke again, and it appeared to him as if he were gently moved by a warm hand, though he knew not where he was, nor what had happened to him; that he stretched out his hands, and felt nothing but the cold stone; but that, as a little daylight glimmered upon him from above, he composed his spirits, and began to creep with difficulty up the steps; that when on them he was perfectly recovered, feeling only a slight oppression in the head, similar to the effect of intoxication.

"Well, brother," said he to the lord-marshal, "will not you also make the attempt, and try whether it will not succeed better with you."

Gothard of Plettenberg demurred: notwithstanding he never feared, in former times, a knight of flesh and bone, as long as he was able to wield his sword; yet, with respect to ghosts, a very just exception was allowed; and a knight might tremble in the dark like an old woman, without any stain upon his honor, or impeachment of his valour. Now a days, the matter is quite altered, and a man may fear any thing but ghosts.

"By my sword," said the governor, as he was returning home, "I will investigate the causes of this mystery. I must know from whose mouth proceeded the gentle breath, that smelt fragrant as the plants of the east, and yet had force enough to extinguish the flame of the consecrated taper, and even to confuse my head, as though I had been drunk."

He instantly sent for Henry of Uxkull, bishop of Revel, and the Abbot of Pardis. Being arrived, they were entertained at a large oak table, and quaffed wine from the family goblet. They listened to the fearful story of their host, with their fat hands folded upon their huge bellies, and shook their heads with significant silence.

Having well weighed the matter, knitted their brows and assumed an air of importance, they finally agreedthat they knew not what to think of it. Each then waddled to his home and thought no more of the mysterious cavern.

But it was not so with the General. He could not rest. His fancy was on the rack, to account for the mystery. On the next morning, he despatched letters to the Archbishop of Riga, to a learned canon, and two pious deans of the holy church of Riga—stating "that a surprising incident had obliged him to have recourseto their piety and wisdom, and entreating that they would be at Revel on St. Egidius's day, to discuss in christian humility this weighty affair."

They came on the appointed day: for they were aware that the cellar of the Governor contained excellent wine, and that his was no niggard hospitality. The archbishop of Revel, and the Abbot of Pardis, were likewise invited to assist, who failed not at the proper hour to present themselves at the castle. An elegant repast had been prepared for them, bumpers went cheerily round to the prosperity of Holy Church, and to the perpetual bloom of the German order of religion.

When their spiritual stomachs were sufficiently gorged, the General thus addressed them: "Reverend and pious fathers! thus and thus it happened to me and my friend here, Gothard of Plettenberg," recounting his story—"What is to be done to liberate the spirits who wander and breathe in the subterraneous passage?"

"They must be driven out by force," replied the archbishop of Riga, "and the power to do this was given to bishops from above."

"A wisp of hay should be steeped in holy water," added the canon, "with which the steps of the dark passage should be sprinkled."

One of the deans advised that "the little chest with the Egyptian hieroglyphics, which was kept as a relic in the convent of St. Bridget, should be taken to the cavern."

The other dean was of opinion that the spirits should be allowed to continue without molestation so long as they only wandered and breathed.

The archbishop of Revel was also of the same sentiment,but the Abbot of Pardis applauded this idea of the Egyptian hieroglyphics.

Last of all, the old General proposed that they should immediately ride to the beach, and employ the arms of the church against the inhabitants of the subterraneous passage. The wine had imparted its spirit to the holy fathers; and they now felt courage to engage, if necessary, even with the fiends of hell.

Within half an hour they were at the convent gate!

Three times were the consecrated torches borne round by the archbishop, who, muttering between his teeth, dipped the wisp into a large ewer of holy water, and plentifully besprinkled all present. Thus spiritually armed, they silently and cautiously approached the entrance of the cavern. Here a question arose, "who should go down first?" Those who were at home were unwilling to rob the strangers of the honor of precedence. The deans drew back, as being merely subalterns in the church, out of respect to their bishop. The archbishop bowed to the right learned canon, and he bowed to the rest. The General became impatient, and forced the archbishop down the steps. The rest followed with beating hearts and tottering knees.

Priests falling down a stair

Each carried in his hand a consecrated taper; and with a rosary hanging at his elbow, sprinkled the walls with drops of holy water. The last of the procession was the Abbot of Pardis, who, grown unwieldy by the luxurious diet of the church, could scarcely drag his short puffed legs after his fat and bulky paunch. The steps too were not only small, but damp and slippery; whence it happened, that on the second step the Abbot lost his footing, and falling with his whole weight upon Henry of Uxkull, they both fell upon the last dean:all three on the first dean; all four on the canon; all five upon the archbishop of Riga; when the whole troop rolled helter skelter down the steps, and plumped to the bottom like so many sacks, there remaining senseless! The consecrated tapers were extinguished, and the venerable group were veiled by a sort of Egyptian darkness. The General, who remained above, heard the tremendous rumbling, to which succeeded a dead silence. For two hours he listened, called on each by name, and waited in vain for a reply. His voice alone was returned to him in a dull and hollow echo. The only sound which met his eager listening, was that of the terrified bat, flitting in the depths of the cavern; or, at intervals, the scream of the frightened owl.

He was a man of uncommon courage, and he resolved to descend once more himself, to see what was become of his guests; but as a prelude to this perilous expedition, he determined to enliven his natural spirits by a draught of generous wine. As he vociferated—"a cup of wine," to the groom who held his horse, the wordWinereached the ears of the holy men—they disentangled themselves from each other, scrambled up, their foreheads bedewed with the sweat of terror, and when they had recovered themselves, they confessed unanimouslythat they were not able to unravel the mystery.

Thus ended the second attempt to gain a more intimate acquaintance with the spirits of the subterraneous passage, and thenceforward no one was bold enough to tread the magic ground.

Man sneaking in a window

When the Cardinal Bernis resided at Rome in the capacity of Ambassador from France, he bore the highest character for sanctity—yet the Cardinal was a man, though a churchman; and churchmen are sometimes not invulnerable to the shafts of love. A pair of speaking black eyes like those of the Princess B., have before now made sad havoc in the heart of the votary of celibacy. The lady was conscious of her own charms, but being married to the man she loved, instead of setting them off by certain little manœuvres which some ladies perfectly understand how to put in practice, she carefully avoided giving any encouragement to the Cardinal, whose constant attendance upon her began to give her some uneasiness. At length the Cardinal, finding that his visits, attentions,cadeaux, and fine speeches had no effect, determined upon seeking an opportunity of making the lady sensible of the excess of his passion. One morning the Princess, on returning from mass, in her haste to avoid a violent shower of rain, tripped as she was getting out of her carriage, and sprained herancle. The Cardinal, who by his spies was informed of every step the Princess took, had attended at mass also; and as he was following the Princess, unobserved, he saw the accident and ran to her assistance, raised her into the carriage, and very humbly entreated her to allow him the honour of seeing her safe home. His Excellency was not to be refused consistently with etiquette, so the poor Princess was under the necessity of hearing all the pretty things the Ambassador had reserved for the occasion. All his protestations and entreaties proved fruitless, and the poor lady arrived at the palace almost exhausted with the alarm the conversation had caused her. She now endeavoured with all care to avoid receiving the Cardinal's visits, but the old gentleman's amorous plans were not to be thwarted.—He still found means of seeing her, and again attacked her with his vows and protestations, so that the lady, unable to bear it any longer, determined to inform the Prince, and related to him all the circumstances of the affair. The Prince was enraged, and threatened all kinds of vengeance against the lover; but however, when the first burst of passion had a little subsided, he said to her, "We are, my love, in a very aukward situation, for the Cardinal being Ambassador his person is sacred; besides we should have the whole consistory and his holiness at their head, thundering excommunication upon us. However, I will think of some scheme of cooling the passion of this holy gentleman." He accordingly suggested that she should write word to the Cardinal, that as her husband was going that evening to his Villa near Tivoli, to order some improvement to be made which would detain him the best part of next day, she had determined to admit a visit from him; but that in order to keep the matter a secret from the servants,she desired him to come at midnight; that she would fix a silken ladder at her room window which looked into the garden, whence he might easily ascend into the anti-room, where he would find the door open that led into her own room. The reader will naturally conceive the transports which this delicious billet excited in the worthy Cardinal. He danced, and leaped and capered about for joy, rang the bell, gave contradictory orders, and convinced his valet that he was mad. He had the sense however to direct a suit of his finest linen to be prepared, and to countermand the order for his carriage, for he bethought himself he had better go privately. How tedious did the hours, which intervened before the time of appointment, appear to our ardent lover, and when the clock struck eleven he could no longer wait. It was a good distance, he must be there in time, not a second too late; therefore off he set after taking some precautions against his sacred person being discovered. He arrives, panting with love and hope; the burning of Mongibello could scarcely exceed the conflagration within him. He gets to the garden-gate. One cannot think of every thing. The Princess in her flurry had forgotten to order the garden-gate to be left open. What was to be done? The wall was not high; but must his Eminence endanger his sacred person? Love, however, the sovereign ruler, who makes even cowards heroes, animated him. It was dreadfully dark; but luckily, in feeling for the height of the wall, the anxious lover found an aperture in it large enough to admit the foot: into this he stepped, gave a spring, and got to the top; and then slid down the other side, not however without losing his hat and cloak, which owing to the darkness of the night he could not find again, nor was he aware, for the samereason, how he was daubed with mortar and brick-dust. In this pickle, our Adonis made the best of his way to find the ladder, tumbling over orange-trees and rosebushes, to the manifest injury of his cassock, which began to hang about him in rags. At last he reached the ladder, seized hold of it, stopped, panted a while for breath, and then up he went. He had just got one leg through the window, when the two large folding doors of the apartment flew open, and fifteen or twenty servants with lighted torches in their hands presented themselves before him. The Prince, at their head, ran up to the window, and with all courtesy helped in the astonished Cardinal, and turning to the servants said, "Scoundrels! is it thus you pay respect to the sacred person of the Cardinal Bernis? Is it thus, by your negligence, that you compel his Eminence, when coming to my wife, to venture his precious life upon a slight ladder and force him through the window in this miserable plight?" Conceive the situation of the bald-pated, cloakless, and tattered Cardinal, as he stood ashamed and terrified before the jeering Prince and his twenty torchbearers. His trembling knees could scarcely support him, as, half dead with fright, shame, and disappointment, he sneaked out of the room, still lighted by the torches and bowed out by the Prince, who continued to apologize for the carelessness of his servants, much to the annoyance of the poor Cardinal, whose misery was heightened by one stroke more; for, as he was huddling off, he just caught the face of the Princess, peeping through the opening of a door with some friends, all almost convulsed with laughter.

Dog cowering away

GERMAN POPULAR STORIES,

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'There is much matter worthy of earnest national attention in these fictions; while, at the same time, they are characteristic and amusing'—Literary Gazette.

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'We recommend the whole to the perusal of our readers, as highly worthy of their attention.'—Critical Gazette.

HANS OF ICELAND,

A Tale, with four highly finished Etchings byGeorge Cruikshank. Price 7s. 6d.

'Some say this monster was a witch,Some say he was a devil.'—Dragon of Wantley.

'Really Hans of Iceland is altogether one of the best productions of its class which we have seen. There is a power about it resembling one of Fuseli's pictures, and Cruikshank's designs are capital.'—Literary Gazette.

THE HUMOURIST:

A Chaste Collection of Entertaining Tales, Anecdotes, Epigrams, Witty Sayings, &c. Original and Selected. Embellished with Forty coloured Plates, Drawn and Engraved byGeorge Cruikshank. In Four Volumes, 5s each.

ECCENTRIC TALES,

From the German ofW. F. Von Kosewitz. Embellished with twenty coloured Illustrations byGeorge Cruikshank, from Sketches byAlfred Crowquill. Price 15s.

MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE AND WRITINGS OF LORD BYRON,

byGeo. Clinton, Esq.with a Portrait and Forty illustrations, byGeo. Cruikshank.

FOOTNOTES:[1]The bat.[2]A whiskey house.[3]Frolic.[4]Superfluous rags.[5]A plate for receiving alms.[6]A man who travels the country, with his wares on the back of a horse or ass.[7]Wench.[8]Rafters.[9]Deepest recess.[10]A sturdy raw-boned dame.[11]The gallows.[12]While I rub a horse-hair bow upon cat-gut.[13]Tinker.[14]Haunches.[15]A well known kind of whiskey.[16]Promised.[17]The multitude.[18]Opened.[19]Rags.

[1]The bat.

[2]A whiskey house.

[3]Frolic.

[4]Superfluous rags.

[5]A plate for receiving alms.

[6]A man who travels the country, with his wares on the back of a horse or ass.

[7]Wench.

[8]Rafters.

[9]Deepest recess.

[10]A sturdy raw-boned dame.

[11]The gallows.

[12]While I rub a horse-hair bow upon cat-gut.

[13]Tinker.

[14]Haunches.

[15]A well known kind of whiskey.

[16]Promised.

[17]The multitude.

[18]Opened.

[19]Rags.

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