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Leech. But I'd gallop all over Europe.
Sir C. Nothing-oh, dear, yes! I remember at one time, I did somehow go about a good deal.
Leech. You should go to Switzerland.
Sir C. I have been-nothing there-people say so much about everything—there certainly were a few glaciers, some monks, and large dogs, and thick ankles, and bad wine, and Mont Blanc; yes, and there was ice on the top, too; but I prefer the ice at Gunter's—less trouble, and more in it.
Leech. Then if Switzerland wouldn't do, I'd try Italy.
Sir C. My dear Leech, I've tried it over and over again, and what then?
Leech. Did not Rome inspire you ?
Sir C. Oh, believe me, Leech, a most horrible hole! People talk so much about these things—there's the Colosseum, now-round, very round, a goodish ruin enough, but I was disappointed with it ; Capitol - tolerable high; and St. Peter's-marble, and mosaics, and fountains, dome certainly not badly scooped, but there was nothing in it.
Leech. Come, Coldstream, you must admit we have nothing like St. Peter's in London.
Sir C. No, because we don't want it; but if we wanted such a thing, of course we should have it. A dozen gentlemen meet, pass resolutions, institute, and in twelve months it would be run up; nay, if that were all, we'd buy St. Peter's itself, and have it sent over.
Leech. Ha, ha! well said, you're quite right.—What say you to beautiful Naples—la Belle Napoli ?
Sir C. Not bad, -excellent water-melons, and goodish opera. They took me up to Vesuvius-a horrid bore; it smoked a good deal, certainly, but altogether a wretched mountain ; saw the crater-looked down, but there was nothing in it.
Leech. But the bay?
Sir C. Humbugs !—nothing in any of them! Have done -you bore me.
Leech. But you enjoyed the hours we spent in Paris, at
any rate ?
Sir. C. No; I was dying for excitement. In fact, I've no appetite, no thirst; everything wearies me—no, they fatigue
Leech. Fatigue you!—I should think not, indeed; you are as strong as a lion.
Sir C. But as quiet as a lamb—that was Tom Cribb's character of me: you know I was a favourite pupil of his. I'd give a thousand pounds for any event that would make my pulse beat ten to the minute faster. Is it possible that you cannot invent something that would make my blood boil in my veins—my hair stand on end-my heart beatmy pulse rise—that would produce an excitement-an emotion--a sensation?
VI.—THE ART OF BOOK-KEEPING.
(HOOD.) How hard, when those who do not wish to lend, less lose,
their books, Are snared by anglers—folks that fish with literary HooksWho call and take some favourite tome, but never read it
through; They thus complete their set at home, by making one at you. I, of my “Spenser” quite bereft, last winter sore was
shaken; Of “ Lamb" I've but a quarter left, nor could I save my
And then I saw my "Crabbe," at last, like Hamlet, back
And, as the tide was ebbing fast, of course I lost my
Му! “Mallet” served to knock me down, which makes me
thus a talker; And once, when I was out of town, my "Johnson" proved
a“Walker." While studying, o'er the fire one day, my “Hobbes," amidst
the smoke, They bore my “ Colman” clean away, and carried off my
They picked my “Locke,” to me far more than Bramah's
patent worth, And now my losses I deplore, without a “Home” on earth! If once a book you let them lift, another they conceal ; For though I caught them stealing "Swift," as swiftly went
Hope” is not now upon my shelf, where late he stood
elated; But what is strange, my "Pope” himself is excommunicated. My little “Suckling” in the grave is sunk to swell the
ravage; And what was Crusoe's fate to save, 'twas mine to lose,-a
“Savage." Even “ Glover's” works I cannot put my frozen hands upon; Though ever since I lost my “ Foote," my “ Bunyan” has
My "Hoyle" with “Cotton" went oppressed; my "Taylor,"
too, must fail ; To save my
“Goldsmith" from arrest, in vain I offered “Bayle.”
I “Prior” sought, but could not see the “Hood" so late
in front; And when I turned to hunt for “ Lee," 0! where was my
I tried to laugh, old care to tickle, yet could not “ Tickle”
touch; And then, alack! I missed my “Mickle," --and surely
Mickle's much. 'Tis quite enough my griefs to feed, my sorrows to excuse, To think I cannot read my “Reid,” nor even use my
Hughes ;" My classics would not quiet lie, a thing so fondly hoped ; Like Dr. Primrose, I may cry, my“ Livy” has eloped. My life is ebbing fast away, I suffer from these shocks ; And though I fixed a look on “Gray," there's gray upon my
locks. I'm far from “Young,” am growing pale, I see my “Butler ”fly; And when they ask about my ail, 'tis “ Burton," I reply. They still have made me slight returns, and thus my griefs
divide; For O, they cured me of my “Burns," and eased my “Aken
side." But all I think I shall not say, nor let my anger burn; For, as they never found me “Gay,” they have not left me
VII.-GOODY GRIM v. LAPSTONE.
(SMITH. Matthews “At Home.”) What a profound study is the law! and how difficult to fathom! Well, let us consider the law; for our laws are very considerable, both in bulk and numbers ; according as the statutes declare-considerandi, considerando, considerandum—and are not to be meddled with by those who dou't understand them.
Law always expresses itself with true grammatical precision, never confounding moods, cases, or genders; except, indeed, when a woman happens accidentally to be slain, then a verdict is always brought in, man-slaughter. The essence of the law is altercation ; for the law can altercate, fulminate, deprecate, irritate, and go on at any rate. “Your son follows the law, I think, Sir Thomas ?” Yes, madam;
but I am afraid he will never overtake it: a man following the law, is like two boys running round a table; he follows the law, and the law follows him.” However, if you
take away the whereofs, whereases, wherefores, and notwithstandings, the whole mystery vanishes; it is then plain and simple. Now the quintessence of the law has, according to its name, five parts :-the first is the beginning, or incipiendum; the second, the uncertainty, or dubitandum; the third, delay, or puzzle-endum; fourthly, replication without endum; and fifthly, monstrum et horrendum : all which are clearly exemplified in the following case-Goody GRIM against LAPSTONE. This trial happened in a certain town, which, for reasons, shall be nameless, and is as follows: Goody Grim inhabited an alms-house, No. 2; Will Lapstone, a superannuated cobbler, lived in No. 3; and a certain Jew pedlar, who happened to pass through the town where those alms-houses were situated, could only think of number One. Goody Grim was in the act of killing one of her own proper pigs; but the animal, disliking the ceremony, burst from her hold—ran through the semi-circular legs of the aforesaid Jew—knocked him in the mud-ran back to Will Lapstone's, the cobbler, upset a quart bottle full of gin belonging to the said Lapstone, and took refuge in the cobbler's state bed.
The parties, being, of course, in the most opulent circumstances, consulted counsel learned in the law. The result was, that Goody Grim was determined to bring an action against Lapstone “ for the loss of her pig with a curly tail;" and Lapstone to bring an action against Goody Grim “for the loss of a quart bottle full of Hollands gin ;” and Mordecai to bring an action against them both “for de losh of a tee-totum dat fell out of his pocket in de rencounter.” They all delivered their briefs to counsel, before it was considered they were all parties, and no witnesses. But Goody Grim, like a wise old lady as she was, now changed her battery, determined to bring an action against Lapstone, and bind over Mordecai as an evidence.
The indictment set forth, “ That he, Lapstone, not having the fear of the assizes before his eyes, but being moved by pig, and instigated by pruinsence, did on the first day of