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A GENTLE LIFE;
LEAVES FROM THE DIARY OF A "GUSHER."
January 1.—Anothor glorious year dawns on mo. Oh, I mean to bo Jd happy! I love everything anil everybody. What a fairyliko place the world ia to be sure! I grow fonder of my fellow-creaturea every day. The mere fact of being alive almost maddens mo with unutterable rapture. It appears like an intoxicating dream. I adore mankind and beastkind; for they are beautiful and good. Why should I tread upon a worm? Ah, my dear brothers and sisters of both hemispheres, let ua all bo very tender and very generous to each other. Let us extend our sympathies to tho solar system, shall we?
Ftbruary 1.—To-day I have been grieved—very deeply grieved— by a sad spectacle of human infirmity. I was walking down Fleetstreet—ah, my darling old burly lexicographer, you also loved the spot!—when I beheld a couple of boys disputing. Yes; there was the effulgent orb of day looking down upon them, and yet they quarrelled. One of them, I hear, had spoken slightingly of the other; for a bystander assured me, on his oath, that the word " fool " had boon made use of. How it made my heart ache to see one of those innocents raise his clenched hand and strike the othor upon the noso. This is no fable for I saw tin blood! Ah, me! Why cannot wo love and cherish one another?
March I.—I received a letter from tho obliging creature who makes clothes for mo. Poor soul, he is in want of money. I have scolded him for not writing to me earlier; and I trust that tho bank-notes I forwarded may be of service to him. I felt a pang at panting with so much; but why Bhould my fellow creatures be unhappy? No doubt somebody will give me money when I want it! That will be vory soon,
April 1.—There is much harmless mirth to-day at the exponso of the confiding and simple-minded. But I cannot bear to hear the name of "fool" applied, even in jest, to such a glorious creature as man. What it a fool 'i I never saw one. We must overlook the failings of our neighbours, or the world will cease to be a perfect paradise.
May \.—The flowers are going to blossom. Dear, delicious flowers! I confess that I never look at a daisy without crying. But how sweet it is to cry now and then! When I was a baby I cried constantly, and they gave mo sugar-plums. How kind and generous peoplo always aro to those in distress!
June 1.—My landlord—as delightful a being as ever drew the breath of life—tells me that I owe him nearly two years' rent. How time flies in this happy world of ours! Poor fellow! it made me weep to see him so disappointed. If I were a rich man nobody should be in want. Still I do not think ho was justified in threatening to deprive mo of liberty. Are we not inhabitants of tho same lovely universe? Does not the same sun shine on us both? But no; surely ho would nover be so ill-natured and cross as to lock me up! He loves me too much for that!
• * * ♦ *
October 1.—Confound it, I shall havo to go through'tho 'court. What an infernal nuisance! To think of that old humbug, ThreadNeedlb, having the impudence to talk about an " instalment." As if I hadn't enough to bother me without a miserable tailor's bill. But I don't care, after all, if I can only scrape tin enough together to go down and see tho mill between Jerhy Conk and the Chicken. By the way, I wish I could get one of those brutal managers to look at my burlesque. I'm sure it's just the sort of thing to suit tho Olympic. They seem to go in for elegance there! That good-looking chap I met at Sloman's when I was locked up for the rent said that burlesques were all the rage. Ah, we had some jolly nights in Cursitor-streot. What an ass I was before I went to old Si.oman's.
November 1.—By Jove, another late night. How I pitched into A 299 when he told me that three o'clock a,m. wasn't tho proper time to go about howling comic songs. Ha, this is what I call "seeing life," with a vengeance! I wonder whether Ikbv means to do that bill for me—the old, sixty-per-ccnt. ruffian. I can soon mako it all right when something turns up. By jingo, this head of mine spins round like a teetotum; I must havo one more bottle of Seltzer, or else I shan't be able to go anywhere to-night, and I suppose we Bhall find something to do in the way of a lark.
December 1.—That muff of a doctor says that if Tm not more careful he won't answer for the consequences. Nonsense; I don't bekove in doctors, nor in anybody else. Why, I've been ill three weeks, and not a soul comes to see me. Where's Harry, I wonder, the ungrateful hound—-I lent him a sovereign before I was laid up. Bothor this cough, I wish I could get rid of it. Well, I can't write any more now. I shall give up keeping a diary as soon as this miserable year comes to an end. Thank goodness, thero's not much more of it to come!
Why is Cha>*o the laziest man in the world ?—Because, on account of his height, he lies the longest in bed.
Oei. 1.8th, 1865.
A Chieftain dead! Let discord cease:
Awhile suspend your quarrels,
Among our hero's laurels.
Our leader, who so gaily marched before us,
Is gone from us—is gone!
From whom our strength was (
This dull October dawn.
Yet will we chant no melancholy dirge3— «
We will not wail for him.
To battle and to swim.
Tired brain and weary limb.
He is dead ;—who stood so boldly by the helm
Of the realm;
When the dim October bights ia mist and rain
How friends loved him!—and none hated, not e'on those
Who were foes,
Yet were clean
Kind and courteous in the hall, and in the fray
Bold and gay,
All the while.
Of his name—■
Set them free
When he knew that ho could strike the one great blow—
Free them so,
Fade, failing year, in fog and gloom,
And leave this record on the page—
"Tho foremost statesman of the age This year was given to the tomb."
And we had thought he could not die—
This veteran with his eighty years,
Who was as one among his peers—•
He never struck an unfair blow,
So prompt in mercy to a foe.
He listened to tho nation's voice,
But when an angry rabble cried,
He did not swerve or turn aside,
Close up the ranks. Aye! look your fill
Upon our ancient captain dead.
Then onward—by the way ho led—
Let thoso who future histories pen,
His noble qualities review;
Kind, cheerful, honest, fearless, truo—
Go search the world from end to
A braver heart had no man— So faithful aye to fallen friend,
So generous to foeman. Wo must not weep a death like this,
So peaceful and so painless, No tears! This shield we bear of his
He has bequeathed us stainless!
BAITING FOR FLAT-FISH.
We find the following in th» advertising columns of a highly respectable daily cotemporary:—
r)NE THOUSAND POUNDS per Annum for ONE POUND.—Any persons who ^ may be desirous of becoming possessed of the abore-named annual income are requested to make an immediate application, enclosing a stamped directed envelope, to, &c.
It is perhaps cruel of us to withhold the name of the advertiser from our readers, thus depriving them of the chance of comfortably settling down in life upon an income not by any means to be sneezed at. But we must uphold our rul» of not allowing our columns to be made traps for the unwary We must needs content ourselves with the remark that if erery person "who may be desirous of becoming possessed of" this very snug little competency will only send his or her sovereign to the advertiser, the said advertiser will certainly have no cause to regret the capital expended in type and printing.
The same number of the same paper has an announcement of a certain "Donnybrook Bazaar," which appears to be a species of lottery, with a charge for tickets (entitling the holders to a chance in the drawing), at the low sum of sixpence! In this lottery the principal prize, we are informed, is " A grand cottage" (not piano, but dwellinghouse), "with six rooms, suitably finished for a respectable family, situated on Dalkey-hill; lease for ever, and rent free. Hundreds of other valuable prizes also. Including an Irish jaunting car, Duke Of Leinster pattern, with horse and harness."
Again our inexorable rule prevents our stating where tickets are to be applied for, but to any one investing current coin of the realm to the amount of sixpence sterling, in the hopes of obtaining either the freehold cottage, or the Irish jaunting car, Di Ke of Leinster pattern, &c, we can only wish success. To speak more plainly, we moBt sincerely " icish he may get it."
By A Practical Man.
I Know that my love wears a chignon behind,
And lots of false puffing before,
Though some people think me a bore;
The rose on her cheek is a sham,
And in proof of the fact—here I am!
Yes, what if her locks are hooked on by her maid?
That I am hooked also is plain,
I feel that her cheeks are a chain;
If her heart and affections are free,
If that heart it beats only for me!
(after The Fashion Of The Old Jest Books.) Ascertain witty fellow, in company with a writer of his acquaintance, passed by a hoarding whereon was displayed one of the Astley's posters.* "So!" quoth the literary man, "The Child of the Sun! That's Phaeton of course." "Nay," said the wag, pointing to the adapter's name, "not a Phaeton—a Brougham."
When is a steamboat like a witness in a trial f—When it is bound to a-pier.
• No offence intended to the Wild Steed of the Desert.
MRS. BROWN ON THE MOTE.
I'm sure truer words was never spoko than as three moves is as bad as a fire, as the savin' is, for rack and rain is the word, as well I can prove by the wan-load as come in fragments, and of all tho downpourin' rain, as I know'd it would bo thro' the moon a-changin' on a Friday, as I've knowed it do often myself, with a wet Monday consequently as sure as ever it was my month's wash.
As to movin', it's a thing as I do not hold with, as has had my share, and bad enough when only a few streets; but all the way from Stepney to South Lambeth, as I holds to be the North Pole for farness, as is a day's journey, as the savin' is, for I had a cousin as lived in Kennington Oval, as used to take me till dusk to get homo again, tho' never stoppin' for a cup of tea. But Brown he says move he must, and that's the nearest where he could find a place with a bit of garden, as his heart is set on thro' bein' that passionate over flowers. Not as ever I fancied the house with a range as there wasn't no doin' nothin' with, and tho oven as wouldn't hold a cheese plate, with a biler as didn't Supply itself, and not a bit of copper not if it was to save your life.
As to the garden, I see nothin' in it, as no more there weren't, thro' its bein' new made, with broken crockery on tho walks, and the house a-smellin' mortary thro' its bein' all fresh cementary work.
Certainly tho parlors is noblo rooms with folding doors, and picked out with pink paint and marble mantel-pieces, not as I hold with them French windows with shutters only a-rastenin' half away up, and a draught under enough for to cut your feet off; and a-makin' of the front kitchen a parlor is all very well, but don't seem nat'ral, as is on the ground after all, and if .them two cupboards ain't damp my name's not Brown, that's all.
Of all the days as ever you see it was that Wednesday—as I will move on, thro' gettin' settled by Saturday night, but, law bless you, settled, why, we shan't never be, for as to gettin' things done unless you do 'em yourself it's heart-breakin', and to see the way as I packed them things, tho' as to Alius. Ciiallin, she's a born fool to go and put them flat irons and two brass candlestioks in along with my tea service, as can't be matched not for the Queen herself, as I valued nat'ral thro' bein' my own dear mother's, as is ono I never had a angry word with, oxcopt that time as I knocked the spout off the teapot thro' a-fillin' it from the kettle contrary to her wishes, and could have cried my eyes out when I see it all come out piecemeal, as the sayin' is.
As to Mb. Piicock as moved us he's a false man, as I'd a told him to his face only Bhown interfered, as is a party I can't a-bear thro' a-marryin' two sisters afore the first was hardly cold in her grave, as Drought on words atween us, thro' me a sayin' she wasn't his lawful ■wife, as made Brown that wild with me, a-tellin' me to mind my own business.
Of all tho wans as ever you sec, eighteenpenco the hour, why I'd have drawed myself nearly as well as them rats of horses. I got 'em started off by ten o'clock, Bbown and me up before five, everything nearly ready over night, when just as the milk come round atween seven and eight it begun for to drizzle, as I says foretels a wet day, tho' the milkman ho thought different, a-sayin', " Rain afore seven lift afore eleven;" as I says, "It's gone seven, as breaks the charm," as the sayin' is.
I'm sure I never knowed no peace till I was off myself in a cab, that full as the door wouldn't shut, and that cat a-strugglin' like wild in my arms, just for all the world like a Christian took anywhere agin his will.
Of all the rides as ever I had it certainly was the joltingest, and kep' a-throwin' mo violent forward, and then a-checkin' me back like, thro' tho horse a-actin' that contrary, and the abuse of that cabman ■was enough to make a worm turn as is trod on. So I up and give him a bit of my mind, and says, "If you ain't got your rights there's a. summons open to you, as I can face any day; but," I says, "I'll havo the law of you thro' not a- givin' me a ticket," as is a mean action in my opinion, as I wouldn't stoop to. But law, ho up and forgot hisself that dreadful that I do not know what he would not have done only Brown come in, as made him step it pretty quick, a willin as •would havo took a mean advantage of a lady, tho same as i^iat ono did as I once give half-a-crown to, a-waitin' for change, when he jumps on his box quite sudden, and, with a rude gesture, said as he'd carry me for nothin' next time.
I thought I should have gone wild a-waitin' hour after hour for them goods, with nothin' for to Bet on but a odd tressel, with a bit of bread and cheese, as Bbown got me, tho' certainly the beer was relishin'.
It was quite dusk when the goods came, and when T see mybeddin' all exposed thro' the tarpauling being blowed aside with the wind and rain a-blowin' violent, 1 could have cried my eyes out, and it's a mercy as I'd had some coals in, as is lucky with salt for to bring first into a house. So the fires was a-burnin' bright, and of all the beastly drinkin' wretches it was them fellows with the wans, as stifled me out
with their rum, as they was reg'lar reokin' with all over the place, and a-fallin' up the stairs with the bannisters knocked out with their violent ways, a-bangin' things about as if they was cast-iron, and had been and broke my lookin'-glass, as will bring no luck for seven years.
As to gettin' our bed up that wasn't possible, for Brown he reg'lar loBt his temper, and went off in a huff, a-sayin' as I'd managed bad, and theie was me and Mrs. Chalun a-slavin' for to dry that beddin', as was a-stoamin' like mad. I do think as that woman was born into the world for to be my bugbear, for tho' well-meanin', she is the most aggravatingest party, thro' bein' that foolish in her actions, a-pilin' up wood and coals like a furnace, a-sayin' as the chimbly must be all right thro' bein' quite uninhabited, except the policeman and his wife as had lived in the front room, as kep' a smokln' in volumes, as the sayin' is.
Well, I was that busy in the bedroom, a-seein' how I could contrive that bed, thro' not a-holdin' with a-sleepin' on tho floor, as is apt for to settle on tho eyes thro' draughts under the door, as is sot to be kept out, when I hears a-hollarin' and a-knockin' violent, as I thought was them wan-men come back, as I would not settle with thro' a-seein' as they was far gone in liquor. So I says, "Let 'em knock, as will pr'aps attract the police," when I hears a rattlin' and saumtin' " Fire."
Well, I runs to tho window, and there I sees such a mob a-shoutin'. So I throws up the sash and says, " Whatever is it?" Says the police, "It's the engines, as ragin' flames is a-comin' out at the chimbly pot," as I could hear a-roarin' like a lion.
It give me such a dreadful turn that I staggers all over the place, and it's a mercy as it was the beddin' as I pitched on to, or I might have done for myself.
It was ever so long afore I could get up and go down, and found the place full of firemen and police, as I says, " Keep out the mob, or I shan't have a thing left in the place," as was a deluge for water a-swillin' all about, and it's lucky as I had got the beddin' up-stairs afore the fire broke out, or I do believe it would have been washed away, as I nearly was myself afore the fire was got under.
And what do you think was its cause? Why, if that policeman and his wife hadn't been and stuffed a bundle of shavin's up that chimbly, as I should say the down draught would have done 'em good, as five was a-Bleepin' in the room; but it's well as it was found out as it were, or we might have been burnt in our beds.
If you'd heard Brown when he come in a-seein' me that grimed as he busted out a-laughin', as set Mrs. Challin off, as tho' hard of hearin' could join in laughter, as she did in my opinion thro' bein' overtook in liquor, for if she didn't then begin a-weepin' and a-sayin' as she must go home to her husband, as is a wooden-leg cobbler, and brought home frequent in a frightful Btate, as she can only keep in by hidin' away his leg with them drinkin' fits on him.
Well, what with her howls and Brown's goin'-on, I was that drove wild that if my spasms didn't come on, as bends me double, and there I was a-stttin' on my feather-bed a-howlin' like a ram's horn, and if it hadn't been for a widder lady as lived next door, and is tho landlady a-comin' in, I don't think as I should have lived the night out. All as they could do with hot bricks perpetual, and brandy and peppermint took medicinal, did not bring me round till past one o'clock, us mado Brown bestir hisself for to get the bed up, and if it hadn't been as Jane como over the next day for to help me, as I packed Mrs. Chailin off the first thing in the mornin', I don't believe as ever I should have got the place right any more, and as to the cat she took it that to heart as never to be heard on no more.
All I've got to Bay is that I'd rather stop in a old house till it fell about your ears, as the Bayin' is, than move to a palace, where the carpets won't fit, and cverythin' seems topsy-turvy, and nothin' don't seem to be suitable. I'm sure as tho cold I caught and tho things I lost and got spoilt in that movin' was enough for to make a saint forget hisself, that it was.
A LESSON IN HERALDRY.
"What shall the blazon be, cousin of mine':"
I asked, as we bent oV:r the pages;
On Bhields that were famous for ages."
Mcthinks such a lesson was pleasant;
"Field Gules, charged in chief, with a Bezant."
"Stuff, Sir," she answered, "that's not in the book,
Attend! for you're Bhaking the table;
Who carries the chevronels sable?
She spoke just as if I had vext her,
With my arms on tho sido that's called dexter.