Mr. Lancet. Mr. President! President. Mr. Lancet, gentlemen, Mr. Lancet. I rise, Mr. President, to ask the gentleman last up, if it is any more absurd to believe in phrenology, because its professors affer in regard to particular cases, than to believe that medicine is a science, when doctors so generally disagree, that nothing is certain in medicine, except that the patient nast die? The gentleman says that some protessors have told him that he was a rogue, and others that he was a fool; I would ask, Mr. President, if it is impossible for both to be right? Squire Sponge. Mr. President! President. Squire Sponge, gentlemen. Squire Sponge. The gentleman seems to think that the science of medicine is uncertain, and really something must be conceded to him on this point; but, for a moment, I should like to contrast the uncertainty of phrenology with the established principles of my profession. The great principles of law, sir, are so well settled, that no one can be in doubt about them; and, until phrenology attains to some. thing like the same stability, it must lay aside all pretensions to the rank of a science. Dr. Begarre. Monsieur le President, I stand inyself up again, to say to the gentilhomme up at last, that if phrenologie was no more certan' dan his law, I should be much sorry. Ma foi! Monsieur le President, you cut off de head of your trin, and de lawyer tell you all juste, all propare. Eh bien, you go wid your head cut off- no, your frin go wid his head cut off to de oder lawyare, and he say de ting is injuste. De one lawyare show to you de case, de decision, ten, five, dozan, all for you. Den de oder lawyare, he have five, ten, dozan tuzzer way. Eh bien, well den, de juge say all two ways parfaitement juste, and de juree dey no gree. Voila! what you call certainty? Ma foi! dare is notting certan', but dat both partees will be sheeted out of all de l'argent, what you call sponge. It must be allow dat de law is certainement one grand science. | I have hear dat dey throw de Salem vish in de vautare, and if he swim, he vish, certan', and he have de body squeeze out of his breath; but if he himself drown under de vautare, he have de consolation to learn dat he is no vish. Monsieur le President, de vish is de man who go to de law; if he swim, he is ruin; if he no swim, [shrugging his shoulders.] den dat is all. Dr. Noddie. I must confess, Mr. President President. The Rev. Dr. Noddle, gentlemen Dr. Noddle. I must confess, Mr. President, that the charge of uncertainty lies, with some force, against the two sciences of law and medicine; but will the friends of phrenology hazard a comparison of their science with that of theology, that sure word of prophecy, as unerring as it is eternal and unchangeable. I think the gentlemen in the affirmative must concede that their science has no claims to certainty, compared with those of theology. Dr. Begarre. Ah, Monsieur le Ministère, I am great much sorry to myself oppose to you. Mais, but, I cannot hold on to my tongue, when you make comparaison between téologie Dr. Begarre. Oui, what religion party you belong? President. Oh! I am an Episcopalian. Dr. Begarre. Eh bien. [Speaking to Dr. Noddle.] Et vous, Monsieur le Docteur Nod dell'? Dr. Noddle. It is well known that I am a Presbyterian. Dr. Begarre. Eh bien. [Looking at D Powwow. Et vous, Monsieur le Docteur Powwow? Dr. Powwow. I am a Baptist, I suppose. Dr. Begarre. Très bien. Et vous. Monsieur le Reverend Greatsol, what sex you follow? Mr. Greatsoul. I am called a Methodist. Dr. Begarre. Enough. [Shrugging has shoulders. Pardon'. You have prove de certainty of de science of téologie. Ma foi! dere is notting certan' but dat you all diffare row, nevare, all time. I vill not spokes no more. President. Gentlemen, the hour to which your debate is limited by the by-laws, has elapsed, and the debate must be arrested. Is it your mind that the question be put in the usual manner? If so, please to manifest it. [All hold up hands.} President It is a vote. Such, then, as are of opinion that phrenology is entitled to the rank of a science, will please to hold up their hands. [Some hold up.] President. Such as are otherwise minded. [Some hold up] President. The question is decided in the affirmative. [Several cry out, Doubted! Doubted!] President. The decision is doubted, gentle men. Will you be good enough Mr. Straightway. Mr. President, I would ask, whether the decision of this question here, will settle the question even here. I move that the meeting be adjourned. Dr. Begarre. I will be his second. President. It is moved and seconded, that this meeting be adjourned. If this be your mind, gentlemen, you will please to signify it [All hands up.] President. The meeting, then, is adjourned. (F. F. D.) 762. I'LL TRY; OR, YANKEE MARKSMAN. LORD PERCY, with his regiment, firing at a target on Boston Common. JONATHAN, an awkward looking country boy, that had outgrown his jacket and trousers. Percy. Now, my boys, for a trial of your skill! Imagine the mark to be a Yankee; and here is a guinea for whoever hits his heart. [Jonathan draws near to see the trial; and when the first soldier fires, and misses, he slaps his hand on his thigh, and laughs immoderately. Lord Percy notices him. When the second soldier jires, and misses, Jonathan throws up his old hat, and laught again j Percy. [Very crossly.] Why do you laugh, fellow ? Jonathan. To think how safe the Yankees are, if you must know. Percy. Why, do you think you could shoot better? Jonathan. I don't know; I could try Percy. Give him a gun, soldier, and you may return the fellow's laugh. Jonathan. [Takes the gun, and looks at every part of it carefully, and then says,] It on't bust, will it? Father's gun don't shine Ike this, but I guess it's a better gun. Percy. Why? Why do you guess so? Jonathan. 'Cause I know what that'll deu, But and I have some doubts about this ere. look o' here! You called that-air mark a Yankee; and I won't fire at a Yankee. Percy. Well, call it a British regular, if you please; only fire. Now Jonathan. Well, a reg'lar it is, then for freedom, as father says. [He raises the gun, and fires.] There, I guess that air red coat has got a hole in it! [Turning to the soldiers. Why don't you laugh now, as thatair fellow said you might [Pointing to Percy.] Percy. You awkward rascal, that was an Accident. Do you think you could hit the nark again? Jonathan. He! I don't know; I can try. Percy. Give him another gun, soldiers; and take care that the clown does not shoot you. I should not fear to stand before the mark myself. Jonathan. I guess you'd better not. Jonathan. I don't know; I could try. [Jonathan fires, and again hits the mark.] Jonathan. Ha, ha, ha! How father would langh to see me shooting at half-gun-shot! Percy. Why, you rascal, do you think you could hit the mark at twice that distance? Jonathan. He! I don't know; I'm not ufeard to try. Percy. Give him another gun, soldiers, and place the mark further off. Jonathan fires again, and hits as before.] Jonathan. There, I guess that-air reg'lar says the s as dead as the pirate that father udge hangs till he is dead, dead, dead, three times dead; and that is one more death than Scripter tells on. Percy. There, fellow, is a guinea for you. Jonathan. Is it a good one? [Ringing it.] Percy. Good? Yes. Now begone! Jonathan. I should like to stay, and see them fellows kill some more Yankees. Percy. Aside] The fellow is more rogue than fool. To Jonathan.] Sirrah, what is your name? Jonathan. Jonathan. Jonathan. Wot'll you give to know? Jonathan. Why, you see. his name was Percy. Do you think your father can shoot as well as you do? Jonathan. I don't know; but I guess he wouldn't be afeard to try. Percy. Where did you learn your skill? Jonathan. Oh, father larnt me, when I wasn't knee high to a woodchuck. Percy. Why did he teach you so young? Jonathan. 'Cause, he said, I might have to shoot red-coats, one of these days. Percy. Ah! Pray, my boy, do all the farmers in your town shoot as well as you do? Jonathan. Yes, and better, teu. Percy. Would they like to shoot at redcoats, as you call them? Jonathan. I've heerd 'em say they'd like to try. Percy. Come, my good fellow, while you are well off, you had better join us, and fight for your king; for we shall hang every Yankee we catch. Jonathan. I guess you won't catch any. Percy. Well, we can try, as you say; and, since we have caught you, we will hang you for a traitor. Jonathan. No you won't. You paid me yourself for killing them three red-coats; so I guess you won't hang me for that. Percy. No, my good fellow, I like you too well. I am sorry that my duty to my king obliges me to injure men who show, in every thought and action, that they are true Englishmen. You may go free; but the next time you see my troops firing at a mark for exercise, you must not be so uncivil as to laugh at them, What say you? when they miss. Jonathan. I don't know whether I can help it. Percy. Well, you can try, can't you? Jonathan I s'pose I can; for Deacon Simple tried to milk his geese, but his wife didn't make no more butter for his trying, I guess. Percy. Begone! or I shall have to put you under guard. Officer, give him a pass to Charlestown; but never let him come among bad His example is (F. F. D} our troops again. one. 763. DRESS AND ASSURANCE. a George How are you, Dick? Why, what's the matter, boy? Whose sins are you lamenting now? Richard. Yours, George. I cannot but tremble for you, when I consider what must be the inevitable consequence of your present line of conduct. Now don't. my George. Pshaw, Dick! good fellow, distress yourself on my account; for I am determined to enjoy life, and I should be sorry to have my enjoyment the source of pain to an old friend. Richard. What do you mean by enjoyment? George. Enjoyment! Why, plenty of ail the good things of this world, and a comfortable sit down, now and then, with one's friends. Richard. But, do you not recollect that your resources are by no means equal to your dress, and other extraordinary expenses t George. We bloods look to our dress for resources, and not to our resources for dress, as you do. Richard. Can you do this honestly? Grorge. Hou-est-ly! [Drawling it out.] We have no such word in our vocabulary. Richard. So it would seem. But, tell me, how do you contrive to keep up such an appearance of wealth and fashion, when I can barely subsist? What is the chief requisite ? George. Assurance, my dear. Lay in a good stock of assurance, and you have a mine at your disposal. Richard But will assurance clothe me? Georg. Yes, and feed you, too. Hark ye, Dick. If your clothes are worn out, or unfashionable, go to a tailor, and order a su of the best cloth, to be sent to your lodgings Say nothing about the price. mind you-say nothing about that. None but the vulgar, who intend to pay, ever say any thing about the price. Richard. Well, but must not I pay for them! Geo ge. Pay for them? No, man. When Pricklouse calls for his money, order another suit. Try this expedient till he refuses to work for you, then swear at him for a troublesome puppy, and forbid h m your house. Rcard. Clothes, however, are not all I shail need. George. That's true, Dick. But they will procure every thing else. What's a man without clothes? A smooth shilling, that hardly passes for what it really weighs, while every body gives currency to one tresh from the mint. Clothes. Dick, are a sine qua non with us bloods. Richard. How so? Every body appears to laugh at your fashionable trim, and to wonder how you dare appear so ridiculous. George. Yes: and yet the same people do us homage. No door is closed against a fine coat. Few tradesmen inquire how we came by it; and where is the lady who does not prefer it to an old unfashiouable one, let who will be in it? Richard. But still I should appear awkward in company. George Not if you have assurance. An impudent fellow may do a thousand awkward things, that would ruin a modest man. Nay, Dick, we sometimes have our blunders imitated. You recollect the story of Lord Spencer, who, losing the skirts of his coat accidentally, had assurance enough to wear what was left on his shoulders, and obtamed the honor of introducing the garment which bears his name. Richard. He was more successful than the fox we read of in the fable, who, having lost his tail, wished to persuade his brethren of the inutility of that appendage. George. He was ashamed of his loss. Dick. Depend upon it, that fox wanted assurance But my principles are gaining ground last; or how else can you account for the fact, that men of threescore are turning fops, and most of the rising generation attend to nothing but dress. Time was, when the cloak and surtout were the peculiar garb of manhood. boy is without them. Now no Richard. You might add, that drinking and tobacco, gaming and debt, were once the vices of meu; but now every fashionable urchin car drink his bottle smoke his cigar, and bet like a gamester. Of debts. I have nothing to add to the description you have just given me. George You have omitted one accomplish ment, however. The lad of fashion must swear a little. Nothing will show one's consequence like a volley of oaths, now and then. But dress is the remote cause of all this. I am sorry to own it, but you seldom see a man of sense who is a fop. When you dress a calf's head, you must always take out the brains. Richard. But how do all these conse quences proceed from dress? George I will tell you, since I have begur. to reveal our secrets. The time was, Dick, when modesty was considered an accou plishment in children, and deference to her superiors a duty. But now, almost as soon as they can walk, children are expected to get rid of their modesty, and learn to disregard the presence of their elders and superiors. Richard. How does this affect their dress! George The competition commences at school; and then. as the tuition will all be lost without practice, and there is some tear of the lad's relapsing into his former modesty. he must be introduced into company, and frequent balls and assemblies, where dres is indispensable. And as, with a genteel cont. and a thorough knowledge of the capacity of his heels, he meets with a better reception than real worth does in a plain garb, it is no wonder that so many of our young men decorate their persous, instead of adorning their minds and parade at the corners of our streets. instead of attending to their business or studies. Richard. But is not all this an argument against dress? George. Yes, Dick; but what has argument to do with fashion? You might as well talk o reason to the idiot, who is not a subject of it. Richard. Do you ever consider what the end of all this fully must necessarily be? George, Oh, no! Futurity is another word we have nothing to do with. But I have made my confessions, and have no idea of hearing & lecture upon them. So, good bye to you. The first glass I drink, shall be to your health and reformation. Richard. You had better continue thirsty. and promote your own. I thank you, however, for the hints you have given me; and, I trust, in future, I shall remain contented with my obscurity, and no longer envy those whose exterior is their only recommendation. (F. F. D.) 764. THE DANDY. SQUIRE GRUFF, who has been a Representative. MR. ETHER, a City Barber, "showing off" in a Country Village. [SCENE-The village bar-room.] Ether. You don't say so! Ether. I can't live out of the metropolis. Your sun taus me-tans me like a Hottentotindeed it does. Gruff. It does not prevent your looking green. Ether. Your air, too, stifles me; and your dust is altogether inconsistent with free respiraton-it is, indeed it is. Gruff. You'll die one of these days. E her. You are disposed to be facetious, friend. But I have found it impossible to live in America, since I visited Italy. Our houses are beaver-dams, decidedly. I can't look at a building here-I can't really. Gruff Have you seen the State House? but Gruff. Wasn't it at home? Ether. You are a very facetious gentle a-you are, upon my soul; but I had rather take a pilgrimage to Mecca, than climb up to tuat cupola. I couldn't survive the fatiguecouldn't, by Hercules! Gruff You had better go up, then, at once. E her. I went up ten steps, and sank under -swooned, absolutely swooned; and that ta.bariau of a guide had no fan to lend me. It is homicide, rank homicide, by Hercules ! Gru. Are there no stairs in Italy? Ether. You are disposed to be facetious, end. But you never travelled-I'll bet a alt sized ice-cream you haven't. Gru I'll take the bet. Ether You won't though, will you? Well, I'm glad to meet with a traveller; for there's nothing here worth talking about. When one has been abroad, home is execrable-perfectly adeous, I assure you. Groff. Better stay away, then. Ether. Name! sir!-name! It is decidedly impolite to ask a gentleman his name. I cannot answer so impolite a question-upon my soul, I cannot. Gruff Give me your card, then. Ether. Excuse me-I left the last perfumed one at Miss Vanilla's, just before I had the extraordinary happiness of meeting you, Gruff. Give me one that is not perfumed. Ether. Excuse me, my dear sir-you distress me exceedingly. I am not accustomed to such personalities-decidedly unaccustomed altogether unused, I assure you. Gruff. Is not your name Ether? Ether. Sir! you are disposed to be facetious, sir-decidedly facetious, sir, upon my honor. What could superinduce the unac countable liberty that you have taken. in suspecting that my name may be eh' what did you conjecture that it was? Gruff. I've shaved at your shop Ether. Some stupendous conspiracy has been formed to disturb my equanimity-it has, indeed it has. Gruff. You seem to be all in a lather. Ether. 'Sdeath and gunpowder-tea! why do you persecute me in this decidedly unplea sant manner? Beware, sir! I may become passionate-decidedly passionate, sir--and then I cannot answer for the consequences!yes, sir, for the consequences! I may do a deed that may be irrevocable, irreme diable, sir-unequivocally irreme'diable as death itself, sir!-I may indeed, sir! Gruff. Young man, you had better go home to your shop. You never saw any thing of Italy, but the Naples soap you sell. If you are ashamed of your business, let me tell you that every honest trade is a respectable one; Ether. You are right, friend-decidedly and, in my opinion, the plainest barber is, in right. I wish the boiler of the steam-packet every respect, superior to au affected monkey that transported me back, had collapsed--decidedly superior-upon my soul, superiorapon my soul, I do even though my epidermis it is indeed, sir.-So, good bye to you had been damped by the steam. Gruff. Can you swim? Ether. You are too facetious, old horseradish? But it is relapsing into barbarism to come home again-it is dying by inches-it is, indeed it is. Gruff. How tall are you? Ether. I shall evaporate in a consumption in six weeks-I shall, indeed. Gruff. You had better hang yourself. Ether. No, that would be vulgar-decidedly volgar unmitigated vulgarity it would, indeed. I would put my head into a bowl of German cologne, if I thought I could keep it under. Gruff. I'll hold it down for you. Ether. Thank you kindly. I hate to trouble a friend, in such an unpleasant business. Gruf. No trouble. I've drowned a hundred puppies in my day. Ether. Do you mean to apply that offensive appellation to me, sir? Gruff. You applied it-I didn't. Ether. Oh, you didn't apply it. Well apologized; for I am averse to bloodsheddecidedly averse to shedding blood, sir. Gruff Look here, young chap! what is your name? [He goes out.] Ether. Well, this is decidedly plain-upon my soul, it is; and, if it was not for one thing more than another, I'd follow that old crabstick I would. decidedly-upon my honor, I would. I deserve two immortalities-indeed 1 dofor not becoming passionate, unrestrainedly passionate, under such provocation. But I will punish him. I'll take him by the nose, if he ever enters my shop again, and if I don't lacerate his jugular for him, it will be because I'm afraid to-indeed it will, it will indeed. [He goes out, pulling up his dickey with a determined air.] (F. F. D.) 765. THE FEMALE EXQUISITES. MRS. KERSEY. BECKY, her Daughter. KATY, her Niece. MADGE, the Servant Girl. Mrs Kersey. TELL me what you have done to the gentlemen who have just left the house in such a rage? Did I not request you to receive them as your destined husbands? Becky. How could we treat them civilly, mother, when they offered themselves at the first visit? Mrs. Kersey. And what was there improper in that? Becky. Oh, horrible! If the affair were managed in this vulgar manner, a romance would soon have an end. Katy. Aunt, my cousin is perfectly right. How can one receive people entirely unacquainted with the delicacies of gallantry? I don't believe they ever heard of Tenderland, and the sighs, and billet-doux, and ser.timental raptures, that are the peculiar growth of its soil. Becky. Does not their whole appearance indicate this? Come to make a formal visit, and expect to be admitted the first time! Katy. And then, to wear a coat without frogs, and hands without gloves! Besides, I noticed that their stocks were not in the newest style Becky. And their vests were fully an inch too long. Mrs. Kersey. You are both crazy-Katy, and you, Becky Becky. Oh, for goodness' sake, mother, do leave off calling us by these outlandish names! Mrs. Kersey. Outlandish names, miss! are they not your true and proper Christian names! Becky. Heavens! how vulgar! What astonishes me is, that you should ever have had so intellectual a daughter as myself Who ever heard of Becky or Katy in refined conversation? and either name would be enough to blast the finest romance that ever was written. Katy. It is true, aunt; for it is distressing to an ear of any delicacy to hear such words pronounced. And the name of Seraphina Cherubina, which my cousin has adopted, and that of Celestina Azurelia, which I have bestowed upon myself, have a grace which even you must perceive. Mrs. Kersey. Hear me--I have but one word to say. I will hear of no other names than were given you by your godfathers and godmothers; and as to the gentlemen, I know their worth, and am resolved that you shall marry them. I am tired of having you upon my hands. Becky. Allow us to breathe awhile among the fashionables of the city, where we have hardly arrived. Give us time to weave the web of our romance, and do not hasten the catastrophe of our being with such unrefined precipitation. Mrs. Kersey You are a finished pair of fools, and shall be married or go to the mad bouse immediately! [She goes out.] Katy Mercy on us! how completely material your mother is! How dull is her understanding! and how dark her soul! Becky. I can hardly persuade myself that I am really her daughter, and I am persuaded that some adventure will hereafter develope a more illustrious parentage. [Enter Madge.] Madge. There is a man below, who says. his lady wishes to speak with you. Becky. Dolt! Cannot you deliver a message with less vulgarity? You should say, "A necessary evil wishes to be informed whether it is your pleasure to be accessible." Mudge. I don't understand French, ma'am. Becky. Impertinent! How insupportable! And who is his lady? Madge. He called her the Marchioness Quizzilla. Becky. [To Katy.] Oh, my dear, a marchionessa marchioness! It is, no doubt, some intellectual lady, who has heard of our arrival. Think of it-a marchioness! my dear. Katy. Let us adjust our dress, and sustain the reputation which has preceded us. [To Madge.] Run and bring us the counsellor of the Graces. Madge. Gracious, ma' am! I don't know what sort of a critter that is. You must talk Christian if you wish me to understand you. Katy. Bring us the mirror, then, ignoramus! and take care that you do not sully the glass by letting your ugly image pass before it. [Madge, going out, meets the Marchioness entering, veiled.] Madge. Madam, these are my mistresses. Marchioness. Ladies, you will be surprised, no doubt, at the audacity of my visit, but your reputation has brought it upon you. Merit has such charms for me, that I break down all barriers to get at it. Becky. If you are in pursuit of merit, you must not hunt for it on our domain. Katy. If you find any merit here, you must have brought it. Becky. Madge! Madge. Ma'am. Becky. Approximate hither the sedentary aids of conversational intercourse. Madge. Ma'am! Becky. Bring some chairs, dolt! Katy. Come, madam, do not be inexorable to that chair, which is stretching out its arins to embrace you. The marchioness sits affectedly.] Marchioness. Well, ladies what do you think of the city. [Exit Madge.] Becky We have not yet had an oppor tunity of seeing its ineffable attractions. Marchioness. Leave that to me. I will establish an academy of wits at your house, and not a rhyme shall be made in the city without your knowledge. I sometimes scratch a line or two myself, and you will find at least two hundred sougs of mine. as many sonnets, four hundred epigrams, and more than a thousand madrigals, to say nothing of enigmas, charades, &c, running the rounds of the first circles Becky. Only think, my dear-over a thousand madrigals! Katy. And in the first circles, too! Marchioness Hearing of your arrival, I have come to do you the homage of presenting you an impromptu that I made upon myself yesterday. I am unequalled in impromptus. Koty. An impromptu is the touchstone of wit. Marchioness. Listen, then. Koty and Becky. We are all attention. Marchioness. You will understand that I suppose a genth man to make the verses upon receiving a glance from my eyes. Katy and Becky. What an ingenious device! |