Chapter VI (3)

Now came, on a sudden, another change. A light appeared in what had always been the dark walks of the garden, and as it advanced exhibited the figure of the celebrated Old Hermit. His head hung on his breast, as with a consciousness that his hour of oblivion was nigh, and he carried his closed volume under his arm. Another figure, scarcely less shadowy, joined him; it was Simpson,--yea, Simpson's self! the unforgotten master of the ceremonies. They advanced, arm in arm; and as they approached the spot on which I stood, riveted with awe, who should make his appearance, as though he descended from the air, but a third great adventurer--one equally immortal, but happily far more mortal than either--the undaunted and untiring aeronaut, Mr. Green! On the instant, the ground beneath opened, and the great Nassau balloon sprung upward, already filled with gas. I saw that the _finale_ had arrived. Green embraced the ghost of the departed master, and, surrendering his own place, handed him into the car, into which he was followed by many of the unfading luminaries of the "property" in past and present times. In the moment of ascent, Simpson, my venerable preceptor in the arts of politeness, the acquaintance of my youth, perceived me in the crowd; he stretched forth a hand, which felt as cold, damp, and impalpable as fog, and, shaking mine, exclaimed with his usual urbanity, "One pinch at--parting?" I felt in my pocket for my snuff-box, eager for a friendly participation, when suddenly--quick as lightning, in fact--I felt a sharp tap on my shoulder; and on looking round--

I found myself amidst the old well known blaze of lights, surrounded by myriads of smart and merry loungers, with police constable 142 X arousing me as people are aroused from dreams, and saying, for my comfort, "Come sir, come! Why, you're asleep as you walk. You've been robbed, I tell you; for your pocket's turned inside out."

* * * * *

I got home about three, and at last fell asleep in reality. I dreamed that Vauxhall Gardens were entirely built over, covered with finished and half-finished houses, in streets and terraces; and that I was actually reposing at that moment in No. 16, Arrack-place, looking upon Sky-rocket-crescent. Methought there was a universal complaint among the inhabitants, of supernatural noises in the night. Not a wink was to be had for the tunings of musical instruments, the calling for waiters, the shouting of "encore," the mingling of thousands of voices; all crowned with peals of laughter, and whispers of "How tired I am, sure-ly!" Each night at twelve, every occupier of a tenement on that famous site was awakened from his first sleep by a multitudinous exclamation of, "O! Oh! Oh-h-h!" accompanied by a light, blue, red, green, yellow, et cetera, and a shower of falling sparks.

"The cloud-capp'd trees, the gorgeous avenues,
The brilliant lamps, the blazing fireworks,
The gilded saloons, the slender sandwiches,
Yea, the great Rotunda itself,
Shall dissolve--
And leave not _arrack_ behind!"

_Simpson and Shakspeare._
]

A Tale of the Times of Old.

It was a Maiden young and fair,
She sat and watch'd within her bower,
In days of yore when warriors were,
And belted knight, and moated tower;
Long, long ago!
She sat and watch'd one summer's eve--
Why doth she so?
Why will not she her lattice leave?
Ah, those were days when maids were true!
The hour was come,--and well she knew.

It was a Squire, a gentle squire,
Came spurring darkly down below;
His steed was splashed with foam and mire,
Oh, what but love could urge him so?
'Twas even so,
He crept beneath the castle-wall,
Long, long ago,
And on his love began to call;
The damsel o'er her lattice hung,
He touch'd his lute, and thus he sung:

"They told me, love, that thou wert fair,
And very fair thou art, 'tis true;
They said thy cheeks like roses were,
Thy lips, 'two rosebuds wet with dew;'
But is it so?
Could ever flower with thee compare?
Ah no! ah no!
Oh never yet was rose so fair!
Could flowers like thee in gardens grow,
The gardeners all were blithe, I trow.

"They said thine eye was like the star,
The brightest star that beams above,
Which men may gaze on from afar,
Admire and watch, in fear and love;
But is it so?
Was ever star so soft and fair?
Ah no! ah no!
Oh, would such stars in heaven there were
How glad I'd watch till morning's light,
To peep and worship all the night."

It was her Sire, a surly knight,
He slept, and slept, with many a snore;
He heard the song, and woke in spite,
And left his couch, y-grumbling sore.
He look'd below,
Then seized a huge cold-water bath--
Long, long ago--
And flung it o'er, in rage and wrath!--
The squire flew off, the damsel fled,
And then the knight went back to bed.

B. HALL.

AN ANACREONTIC FABLE.

Cupid, a spoiled and peevish boy,
Is always wanting some new toy;
And what is more, his mother Venus
Never denies--_quodcunque genus_--
Any odd thing the urchin fancies,
From kings and queens to scullery Nancies.
His fondling mother, t' other day,
Gave him some hearts wherewith to play;
No sooner did the rascal take them,
Than he began to bruise and break them!

H. R.

FRANK HEARTWELL; OR, FIFTY YEARS AGO.

BY BOWMAN TILLER.