My reason's this:- the Priests of Isis, A CURIOUS FACT. THE present Lord K-ny-n (the Peer who writes letters, For which the waste-paper folks much are his debtors) Hath one little oddity, well worth reciting, Whenever Lord K-ny-n doth chance to behold queer Pie-worship, they hold, coming under the head Vide Crustium, chap. iv.) of the Worship of Bread. Some think 'tis a tribute, as author, he owes The only good things in his pages, they swear, For thus, we're assur'd, the whole matter arises: His death was brought on by a bad indigestion, 4 See the anecdote, which the Duchess of Marlborough relates in her Memoirs, of this polite hero appropriating to himself one day, at dinner, a whole dish of green peas-the first of the seasonwhile the poor Princess Anne, who was then in a longing condition, sat by, vainly entreating, with her eyes, for a share. 5 The same prudent propensity characterises his descendant, who Most of your readers are, no doubt, acquainted with the anecdote told of a certain, not over-wise, judge, who, when in the act of delivering a charge in some country court-house, was interrupted by the braying of an ass at the door. "What noise is that?" asked the angry judge. "Only an extraordinary echo there is in court, my Lord," answered one of the counsel. As there are a number of such "extraordinary echoes" abroad just now, you will not, perhaps, be unwilling, Mr. Editor, to receive the following few lines suggested by them. There are echoes that bore us, like Blues, With the latest smart mot they have heard; There are echoes, extremely like shrews, Letting nobody have the last word. In the bogs of old Paddy-land, too, Certain "talented" echoes there dwell, Who, on being ask'd, "How do you do?" Politely reply, "Pretty well." But why should I talk any more Of such old-fashion'd echoes as these, When Britain has new ones in store, That transcend them by many degrees? And while, of most echoes the sound Oh Scott, were I gifted like you, Who can name all the echoes there are From Benvoirlich to bold Ben-venue, From Benledi to wild Uamvar; I might track, through each hard Irish name, To the chief Neddy, K-ny-n, again; Might tell how it roar'd in R-thd-ne, Of the fat-pated Marquis of E-y; How, on hearing my Lord of G―e, -for so humble a bard 'Tis a subject too trying to touch on; Such noblemen's names are too hard, And their noddles too soft to dwell much on. Oh Echo, sweet nymph of the hill, Of the dell, and the deep-sounding shelves; If, in spite of Narcissus, you still Take to fools who are charm'd with themselves, Who knows but, some morning retiring, To walk by the Trent's wooded side, You may meet with N-wc-stle, admiring His own lengthen'd ears in the tide! Or, on into Cambria straying, Find K-ny-n, that double-tongued elf, In his love of ass-cendency, braying A Brunswick duet with himself! INCANTATION. FROM THE NEW TRAGEDY OF THE BRUNSWICKERS." 1898. SCENE.-Penenden Plain. In the middle, a caldron boding. Thunder.-Enter Three Brunswickers. 1st Bruns.-THRICE hath scribbling K-ny-a scrawl'd, 2d Bruns.-Once hath fool N-wc-stle bawl'd, 2 Commonly called "Paddy Blake's Echoes." 3 Anti-Catholic associations, under the title of Brunswick Club, were at this time becoming numerous both in England and Ireland. 3d Bruns.-B-xl-y snores:-'tis time, 'tis time, 1st Bruns.-Round about the caldron go; In the poisonous nonsense throw. Bigot spite, that long hath grown, Like a toad within a stone, All.- Dribble, dribble, nonsense dribble, 2d Bruns.-Slaver from N-wc-stle's quill In the noisome mess distil, Brimming high our Brunswick broth Mix the brains (though apt to hash ill, And, to keep it company, Dreams of murders and of arsons, Cry aloud for Papist's blood, Blood for W-lls, and such old women, All.-Dribble, dribble, nonsense dribble, 3d Bruns.- Now the charm begin to brew; Sisters, sisters, add thereto Scraps of L-thbr-dge's old speeches, HOW TO MAKE A GOOD POLITICIAN. WHENE'ER you're in doubt, said a Sage I once knew, "Twixt two lines of conduct which course to pursue, Ask a woman's advice, and, whate'er she advise, Do the very reverse, and you're sure to be wise. Of the same use as guides, are the Brunswicker throng; [wrong, In their thoughts, words, and deeds, so instinctively That, whatever they counsel, act, talk, or indite, Take the opposite course, and you're sure to be right. So golden this rule, that, had Nature denied you The use of that finger post, Reason, to guide you— Were you even more doltish than any given man is, More soft than N-wc-stle, more twaddling than Van is, I'd stake my repute, on the following conditions, To make you the soundest of sound politicians. Place yourself near the skirts of some high-flying Tory Some Brunswicker parson, of port-drinking glory,Watch well how he dines, during any great Ques[tion tion If he's up, you may swear that foul weather is nigh; Is Brougham his aversion? then Harry's your man. Russian Empire (Czar, Cossacks, and all) to your soul. In short, whatsoever he talks, thinks, or is, Be your thoughts, words, and essence the contrast of his. Nay, as Siamese ladiess-at least, the polite onesAll paint their teeth black, 'cause the devil has white ones If ev'n, by the chances of time or of tide, Your Tory, for once, should have sense on his side, Even then stand aloof-for, be sure that Old Nick, When a Tory talks sensibly, means you some trick. Such my recipe is- and, in one single verse, EPISTLE OF CONDOLENCE, FROM A SLAVE-LORD TO A COTTON-LORD. ALAS! my dear friend, what a state of affairs! How unjustly we both are despoil'd of our rights! Not a pound of black flesh shall I leave to my heirs, Nor must you any more work to death little whites. Both fore'd to submit to that general controller Of Kings, Lords, and cotton mills, Public Opinion, No more shall you beat with a big-billy-roller, Nor I with the cart-whip assert my dominion. Whereas, were we suffer'd to do as we please With our Blacks and our Whites, as of yore we were let, We might range them alternate, like harpsichord keys, And between us thump out a good piebald duet. But this fun is all over;-farewell to the zest Which Slavery now lends to each tea-cup we sip, Which makes still the cruellest coffee the best, And that sugar the sweetest which smacks of the whip. Ah quoties dubius Scriptis exarsit amator! THE Ghost of Miltiades came at night, And he stood by the bed of the Benthamite, And he said, in a voice, that thrill'd the frame. "If ever the sound of Marathon's name "Hath fir'd thy blood or flush'd thy brow, "Lover of Liberty, rouse thee now! The Benthamite, yawning, left his bed- The Benthamite hears- amaz'd that ghosts Could be such fools, -and away he posts, One of the operations in cotton mills usually performed by children. A patriot still? Ah no, ah no- He, at length, against Syntax has taken his stand, And sets all the Nine Parts of Speech at defiance. Next advices, no doubt, further facts will afford; In the meantime the danger most imminent grows, He has taken the Life of one eminent Lord, And whom he'll next murder the Lord only knows. Wednesday Evening. Since our last, matters, luckily, look more serene; Though the rebel, 'tis stated, to aid his defection, Has seized a great Powder-no, Puff Magazine, And the' explosions are dreadful in every direction. What his meaning exactly is, nobody knows, And a mixture call'd amber immortalisation.3 Now, he raves of a bard he once happen'd to meet, Seated high" among rattlings," and churning a sonnet; Now, talks of a mystery, wrapp'd in a sheet, With a halo (by way of a nightcap) upon it!" We shudder in tracing these terrible lines; Something bad they must mean, though we can't make it out; For, whate'er may be guess'd of Galt's secret designs, That they're all Anti-English no Christian can doubt. RESOLUTIONS PASSED AT A LATE MEETING OF REVERENDS AND RIGHT REVERENDS. RESOLV'D-to stick to every particle Resolv'd that, though St. Athanasius 5 "He was a mystery in a winding sheet, crowned with a halo." Ibid. One of the questions propounded to the Puritans in 1573 was — "Whether the Book of Service was good and godly, every tittle grounded on the Holy Scripture?" On which an honest Dissenter remarks" Surely they had a wonderful opinion of their Service Book that there was not a tittle amiss in it." Ꮓ Ꮓ 2 |