Читать книгу: «The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction. Volume 17, No. 472, January 22, 1831», страница 4

We remained all day on the same part of the coast, but towards evening the party fell back on the outpost to which they belonged—after travelling an hour or so we emerged from a dry river course, in which the night had over-taken us, and came suddenly on a small plateau, where the post was established on the promontory of "Punto Canoa." There may be braver soldiers at a charge, but none more picturesque in a bivouac than the Spanish. A gigantic wild cotton-tree, to which our largest English oaks were but as dwarfs, rose on one side, and overshadowed the whole level space.

The bright beams of the full moon glanced among the topmost leaves, and tipped the higher branches with silver, contrasting strangely with the scene below, where a large watch-fire cast a strong red glare on the surrounding objects, throwing up dense volumes of smoke, which eddied in dun wreaths amongst the foliage, and hung in the still night air like a canopy, leaving the space beneath comparatively clear.

A temporary guard-house, with a rude verandah of bamboos and palm leaves, had been built between two of the immense spurs of the mighty tree, that shot out many yards from the parent stem like wooden buttresses, whilst overhead there was a sort of stage made of planks laid across the lower boughs, supporting a quantity of provisions covered with tarpaulins. The sentries in the back ground with their glancing arms, were seen pacing on their watch; some of the guard were asleep on wooden benches, and on the platform amongst the branches, where a little baboon-looking old man, in the dress of a drummer, had perched himself, and sat playing a Biscayan air on a sort of bagpipe; others were gathered round the fire cooking their food, or cleaning their arms.

It shone brightly on the long line of Spanish transports that were moored below, stem on to the beach, and on the white sails of the armed craft that were still hovering under weigh in the offing, which, as the night wore on, stole in, one after another, like phantoms of the ocean, and letting go their anchors with a splash, and a hollow rattle of the cable, remained still and silent as the rest.

Farther off, it fell in a crimson stream on the surface of the sheltered bay, struggling with the light of the gentle moon, and tinging with blood the small waves that twinkled in her silver wake, across which a guard boat would now and then glide, like a fairy thing, the arms of the men flashing back the red light.

Beyond the influence of the hot smoky glare, the glorious planet reassumed her sway in the midst of her attendant stars, and the relieved eye wandered forth into the lovely night, where the noiseless sheet lightning way glancing, and ever and anon lighting up for an instant some fantastic shape in the fleecy clouds, like prodigies forerunning the destruction of the stronghold over which they impended; while beneath, the lofty ridge of the convent-crowned Popa, the citadel of San Felipé bristling with cannon, the white batteries and many towers of the fated city of Carthagena, and the Spanish blockading squadron at anchor before it, slept in the moonlight.

We were civilly received by the captain, who apologized for the discomfort under which we must pass the night. He gave us the best he had, and that was bad enough, both of food and wine, before showing us into the hut, where we found a rough deal coffin lying on the very bench that was to be our bed. This he ordered away with all the coolness in the world. "It was only one of his people who had died that morning of vomito, or yellow fever." "Comfortable country this," quoth Splinter, "and a pleasant morning we have had of it, Tom!"

Blackwood's Magazine.

DIRGE

 
Green be the turf o'er thy head,
Light lie the earth on thy breast,
Peaceful and calm be thy sleep,
Till thou'rt called to rejoice with the blest.
 
 
Though we weep, yet we joy at thy lot,
Though we mourn thee, we yet can resign,
Though we sorrow, 'tis not without hope,
Though we lose thee, forbear to repine.
 
 
From the cares and the pains of this world
Thy beatified spirit is free,
'Twould be selfish in us to deplore,
For we know that thy God is with thee.
 

Royal Lady's Magazine. No. 1.

THE REBELLION IN STOCK POGIS

Answer to Mrs. Jones's Letter in Hood's Comic Annual. ¹

Padinton third Janeary 1831

Dr. Mrs. Jones,—I take Pin in hand to Scratch you a few Remarks in return for your kind Pestle: it however gav me a sevear Blow to hear of my deer frends Roofall Sitawayshun: keep up your Spirits, do my deer Frend, I dout not in your next I shall hear you have taken to your Old Rum again down stairs and find the Windy-Pains in a Hole condishun—Yet what can you Relie on when the Country Gernals is filled with sheets of Flams of Steaks and Bairns burnt to their foundhayshones. But let you and me Mrs. J. hop that these evil Doors may be sicured. I have a bit of Noose for you—Swing is taken and Lockt up—let us hop then that Steps may be taken for capshining his Canfeedrats—You enquier what our King and Manystirs think of Stuck Puggys I beleeve they think your Magasstearall Funkshunareas mite have shone more Hacktivity and Incision again armed Poplars and Incieders—but its all owing to the March of Intellx—instid of mindin there work they are always runnin to heer some Seedishus Ourang or other on the Harrastocrazy—they now call themselves the Industerious Classis, formally they was called The Lore Ordurs. My Servint gal atends Love Feasts and Missinarea Meetins and has the impidence to tell me she has a Soal as valleyable as my own and actally askt if her minnyster mite be aloud to come and prepair me for Heavn; but I told the uzzy to prepair herself for another place and gav her a munths warnin to soot herself—but about the parleymeant—Hurl Grey the Primer has a load on his sholders wich I hop he will be able to discharg an all go off quiet: He has pledgd himself for to the caws for Riform an says hell Redrench evry Place where he has Grounds: and they all talk about Pooling Mesurs; but the Wetterun Bishop Sincurers and Cloaths borrowers show pourfull Oppisishun and perplix and embrace all his Plans—Pettyshuns come in from all Parts for Necromancypassion, wich I take to be some new plan for washin the Blackamer wite—also for the vote by Ballad which Mr. Hum supports and likewis Mr. Oconl the Hireish mimber wich wants the Onion to be repeeled and caws all Hireland Watery eyes; but I hop sich Cryses will niver arrive–I supose youve herd Hunt is returnd for Prestun wherby Im sorry to heer of a incindery sittin in the ows, for he not only first burnt the Corn but sold it after to the pure Peeple—but is Blackin his good—Our new lord Canceller Brewem gives us Hops that he will put a end to all the Old Suits without making any New Breeches wich wrong incisions wold show Shear hignoranc—but hes no Goos!—Mr. Grant wants to Mancypate the Jews— Porkreetchers! my next Nabor Levy says they are a Pursycutish Race thogh they hav Numbers of Genesis among them fit for Trusts on Securitys; but let who will be in or out somethin must be done. Winters com and the ole Country wants instand Releafing thoug I hop no Treesunable acts will be manny fisted be the Peeple—Nobody now cant sell nothing Goods hangs on hand and Malefactors are dropping in every line—Soverins is scars and Peeples ready to tear each other to peeces for um—We want some change–In the Naborhood of Manshister thirty thousn Wafers are in a state of Risibility which is no laughin matter, havin struck for more Wags tho' they get therty shillins a Weak and are always in Labor!—this abolition of feelin shold be checkt, for if it is to go on it will most likly continew–As you observe, the Rag for Chang is grate—as they say The Scullmasters Abroad and the Scull all in confushon—Old Head devices done away with and Hairy Cassles supplyin the place—Aspics on the Continence seem very embracing—tho the Trials in France is over the People are in Truble—I hope the Rising in the Low Kantrys is over—The Poles seem to be makin head again the Rushons in great Armd Bodis—bent on Deth or imprisonment to get Liberty—In short all Eurups in Harms; but nothins so Barberus as Civil comoshins Hopin all is over with You, and restin asshurd Stuck Puggys is not likely to rise again, I conclude remaining Your sincer Frend and well wisher A HUMPHRIES.

SOME PASSAGES FROM THE DIARY OF THE LATE MR. ST. JOHN LONG

 
"Aye—there's the rub."—HAMLET.
 

"'Tis all one!" said I, laying down the newspaper on the breakfast table, after reading an erroneous representation of myself and the Marquess of Sligo:—"I am resolved to remove this stain from my character, and, if hard-rubbing can do it, I may hope to succeed." I had scarcely pronounced these words, when my servant entered the room to inform me that a person had arrived in breathless haste, imploring my assistance for a gentleman in a dying condition. Heedful, as I ever am to attend to the sufferings of others—a pursuit in which I have found ample fee-licity—I drew on my boots and followed the applicant to the house of the suffering gentleman. This was situated in a picturesque part of the metropolis, and, on knocking, the door was opened to me by a man who might be six and forty years of age—there, or thereabout. Guessing the purport of my visit, he said nothing, but led me up to his master's room, when a spectacle of the most appalling character met my eyes. A gentleman in the prime of life, lay extended on a bed—his hair dishevelled, his dress disordered, and his complexion a midway hue between the tints of chalk and Cheshire cheese. His tongue hung out of his mouth, loaded with evidence of internal strife. I naturally believed that the present was a confirmed case of phthisis pulmonalis, and I accordingly had recourse to my well known, and, with-few-exceptions-always-successful remedy of inhaling. In this instance, however, it did not answer my expectations. Instead of benefitting the trachea, it produced a sympathetic affection of the stomach and diaphragm, and the oesophagus formed the medium of communication between the patient and myself. Having taken a pinch of snuff, I was about to give my other infallible remedy a fair trial, when the patient opened his eyes. But, gracious heaven! what eyes! The visual orb was swoln, blood-shot, troubled and intolerably dull. At the same moment, some incoherent expressions fell from the unfortunate gentleman. After a reference to the kidneys, he seemed to wish for something to be found in the coal-hole, or the cider-cellar; but the search of the servant below stairs was unavailing. I now began to apprehend delirium. To be sure of the state of his mind, I inquired if there were any clergyman whom he would wish to see: He exclaimed, "O venerable old Offley!" But when I expressed to the servants a wish that this reverend gentleman might be sent for, they assured me that they had never heard of him! The patient then muttered some inarticulate sounds, and turned on his side. This position being favourable for my original operation of rubbing, I slit up the back of his coat, waistcoat, and all other vestmental impediments, and smartly applied a solution of tartarised antimony along the course of the spine. The effect was instantaneous on the alimentary canal, and a griping in the transverse arch of the colon well nigh put a full stop to the patient's sufferings. The ductus communis choledochus again deluged the stomach, and with the customary consequences. The scene now, became almost insupportable. An aged nurse, who had, from the infancy of the patient, been his domestic, declared that she could hold out no longer. Poor creature! the tear of affection glistened in her eye; while her convulsed features betrayed uncontrollable sensations. It was a struggle between the heart and the stomach: the heart, remained true, but the stomach turned. At this the patient commenced cursing, swearing, and blaspheming, in a way which will be found fully detailed with all due dashes —! —! —! &c. &c. in the last number of a Northern magazine. "Zounds!" cried he, starting up on his séant—"Who are you? who sent for you? May the fiends catch you and cleave to you for ever! Give us the hips! a small glass of brandy! ha! ha! ha! O my back! D—n all doctors! Here am I stung and tortured with gastritis, hepatitis, splenitis, nephritis, epistaxis, odontalgia, cardialgia, diarhoea, and a whole legion of devils with Latin names! D—n all doctors again, say I!" And with this exclamation, he hurled a curious crown of crockery at my head, which fitted on so tightly, that only by breaking it, could I disengage myself from the delfic diadem. I hastily ran down stairs, and, meeting the man of six and forty in the passage, I inquired of him very minutely concerning the state of his master. He answered all my questions with perfect candour, and not without a certain archness of look and manner rather unusual among men of six and forty in his rank of life. From all I elicited, and also from certain corroborative proofs, which I do not think it necessary now to specify, I have no hesitation in declaring, for the information of the profession to which I do not belong, and of the public generally, that in this case my abstruse remedies had not a fair trial, inasmuch as the patient's state was vulgarly simple. He had been drunk the night before!