Chapter XI

Tom Gad, Tom Gad—my lad, my lad,
Now never mind your head O!
Here comes your wife to save your life;
You must sit up in bed O!
You must put up with one attack from her,
And then put up your traps, and back with her.

Gog and Magog—all a-gog.
]

2. Michaelmas Term begins.

CHAMBER PRACTICE.

Fiction all day to use, whate'er the fact is—
To find that everything against some Act is—
Champagne to drink all night, till the brain rack'd is—
That's Chamber Practice!

A BRIEF.

For pay, to prove the honest man a thief—
For pay, to break the widow's heart with grief—
To stifle truth—for lies to gain belief—
That's a Brief!

DEEDS carefully _abstracted_.

Ten thousand words, where ten would serve the need—
Ten thousand meanings, discord meant to breed,
Where none can understand, and few can read—
That's a Deed!

9. The Lord Mayor takes water at Westminster Hall, and wine at
Guildhall.

Royal Babby born

THE NURSE'S SOLILOQUY.

How do I dote upon my royal charge,
Born to be great, and growing to be large;
Sprung, in his beauty, from the parent-tree,
An _heir_, and eke _a-parent_ too, is he.
Dear bellowing babby—apple of my eye,
A young trump-card, turn'd in the royal rubber;
As Duke of Cornwall, how he used to cry,
And now he's Prince of _Whales_—oh! wont he _blubber_!

Pray, Mrs. Lilly, when is His Royal Highness to be dressed _en grande tenue_? Don't know, my lady; at present he is dressed _in the nursery_.

The Parlour and The Cellar.
]

THE PARLOUR AND THE CELLAR.

"Most epic poets plunge _in medias res_,"
So, as the better plan with scenes like these
(At least, the quicker),
I treat the past as a "foregone conclusion,"
Whereby the reader's saved no small confusion,
Seeing my "_dram_ personæ" are in liquor.
Opens our scene what time thus spake the host
(A gentleman who has two friends to dine,
That two, as you perceive, are soused in wine,
Like Jacob's swine):
Rising to do the honours of the board
(His "case of drink" such as became a lord),
"I beg to pro—po—pop—prop—pose a toast;
Not to my honourable friend that's down,
For he al—sted—dead—ready is done brown;
But to the gentleman before me there
(Is there a pair?),
Filling, with so much dignity, his chair:—
A toast, the very birthright of a nation,
Where virtue is the attribute of station;
A toast, were I the swi—swe—swain that delves—
Or peer, or plebs, I'd drink while I'd a hand
To hold a glass in—or a leg to stand—
"Our noble selves."
* * * * *
Thus sped affairs—up stairs,
Or, properly to speak it, in the _salon_
_A manger_, where a group of the _élite_
Were busied in the intellectual feat
Of swilling claret by the gallon.
I said "up stairs," however, let me state,
To indicate
That, under the aforesaid festive _salle_,
There lay a spacious subterranean hall,
Cellar, or, with your leave, we'll call it vault
(Because the word is wanted for the rhyme),
Wherein, at that especial point of time,
There sat a party deeply gone in malt;
Consisting of two Christians and a nigger
(Meant, you will understand, to represent
Servants of the establishment),
Now, let me beg you to observe the figure,
Whereby the artist hath pourtrayed the latter—
Nothing in ebony was ever fatter;
In look and leer a more incarnate satyr;
How better could he illustrate our matter,
Which _is_ a satire?
Hark! Mungo speaks—"O golly! what a go
Them four-um-twenty bottle ob a row,
Beer in um casks, and claret on um shelbes
Come, massa butler! neber spare um whack;
Mungo shall drink, so long as Mungo black—
'Our noble selbes.'"
* * * * *
Smile on—but have a heed, least, soon or later
Apply the "_de te fabula narratur_."

DECEMBER—NOTES OF THE MONTH.

1. Bernard Cavanagh detected.

He went too _fast_; in hopes his trick would tell
To bite the Bark-shire boys he took _a spell_;
But _Reading_ sauce soon cured the hungry sinner,
And now he'd jump to get a Christmas dinner.

9. Prize Cattle Show—Blank faces.

There gazes John, delighted on
The blowing bloated beast;
'Tis hard to swear which of the pair
Of brains possesses least.

21. Ladies scold least.

Pray what's the reason they have less to say?
Why, simply this, that 'tis the shortest day.

25. Dine out (if you can).

Christmas upsets the world:—a very _slow_ pull
Have foreign places: _Turkey's_ deem'd divine;
But who cares twopence for _Constantinople_;
And isn't _China_ fairly lost in _Chine_?