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The rich widow, on the eve of effecting a second matrimonial alliance, might be saved
by clairvoyance from trusting herself and fortune to a spendthrift, who, as he had
melted the heart of the one, would melt the substance of the other.

The cook, owning to the soft impeachment of a follower, and thrown into coma by
the housemaid's friendly hand, would ascertain the object of that follower's pursuit to
lie in her master's larder alone. By-the-by, there is no belle in England that can
boast of so many admirers as a kitchen cupboard, which must, indeed, be a sad flirt if
we are to judge by the number of hearts it ensnares, and the variety of suitors it

The master, confident in the fidelity of his servants, happening to practise a little
auto-Mesmerism, which Mesmerists tell us may easily be done, finds himself in a
state of clairvoyance, with reference to his attached domestics, with whom he might,
perhaps, trust his life, but certainly not the key of his cellar.

Such are a few, and only a few, of the useful and important purposes "to which
Mesmerism may be turned, if its
adherents would only condescend to
make it practical. In fact, Mes-
merism, if it be a true science, is
destined to change the face of
society ; and, in the event of its
taking a strong hold, it will give a
strange turn to man in some of his
most important features. For in-
stance, the nose, which under
ordinary circumstances would rather
persuade the mouth to bite it off
than bring a blush of dishonour into
the face, resigns itself ignobly into
the hands of the Mesmerist ; and a gentleman in a state of coma will innocently
abandon that organ which should be, of all others, " up to snuff," to be sportively
converted into a pincushion.


ICE plac'd within a shop or room
Will turn to water, we presume,
For 'tis a solvent all agree ;
But here In-solvent ice we see.

Yet though we cannot solve the ice,
We solve the riddle in a trice.
It comes from Pennsylvania's state,
And therefore will not liquidate.



a Cale of tije lneteettti) (Centtm?.

HEINDRICH STECHERT was the only son of Diedrich Stechert, of Schnapsbergen, on
the borders of the Hartz. Heindrich's mother had died in giving birth to his sister
Meuie, who, at the time of which we write, was just entering her eighteenth year.
Her bright blue eyes and rosy lips had already won her many admirers, and dearly as
Heindrich loved his sister, it was not without some feelings of jealousy that he witnessed
the admiration Menie's beauty commanded from all who knew her, for Heindrich was
unhappily deformed. He had a high shoulder and a club-foot ; and being of quick
apprehension, he had not failed to observe that others, far his inferiors in mind and
position, were much more favoured by the fair maidens of his acquaintance.

It was customary with Menie and her brother to devote some time every evening to
the practice of music, of which both were passionately fond, and it was at the conclusion
of one of those performances, on the 15th of February, that Heindrich threw himself
into his father's old easy-chair and sighed heavily.

" What ails my brother ? " said Menie. " Does the boar's head or the sauerkraut
lie heavy with my brother ? "

"No, Menie," replied Heindrich, "it is not that but no give me my pipe,
Menie," and the loving sister flew to the study of her brother to obey his command.
Whilst searching for the meerschaum she discovered a clue to the uneasiness of her
beloved Heindrich, for on the table were two sketches, one representing her brother
deformed, as he was then, the other depicting him as he might be. " Poor dear
Heindrich ! " exclaimed Menie, bursting into tears ; " who has had the heart to send
you such insults as these ? If they come from any friend of mine, I '11 cut them for
ever." Menie seized the offensive caricatures, and having torn them into a thousand
pieces, dried her eyes, and took the pipe to Heindrich. When she returned to the room
she found him still seated in the same position as she had left him, and fearing to
question or to be questioned, she placed the smoking appurtenances on the table, and
resolving to send up her brother's usual potation of hot schnapps-and- water by the maid,
left the room.

Menie's conduct was not lost upon Heindrich, and he muttered as he probed the
bowl and blew down the stem of his meerschaum, " Hum ! she 's guessed what 's
the matter with me she 's heard what the women say of me and yet Richard the
Third got a wife in twenty minutes in spite of the mountain on his back ; and Byron
was the idol of the ladies, though his foot was as difficult to fit with a ready-made boot
as mine is ; but then I Ve the luck to own both a hump and a club."

The conclusion he had arrived at seemed far from agreeable, and he puffed away
at his pipe with intense energy. "I '11 try, however," he mused to himself " I may
not be so objectionable ;" and as this thought passed through his mind, Keziah, the
maid-of-all-work, entered with the hot schnapps-and-water.

" Keziah," said Heindrich ; and then hesitated, as though fearing to trust himself

" Did you speak, sir ? " inquired Keziah, rubbing not the cleanest of faces with the
dirtiest of aprons.


Heindrich paused for a moment, and then said, very hastily, " Keziah, will you give
me a kiss ? "

The girl looked so perfectly incredulous that she had heard aright, that Heindrich
thought it necessary to repeat the inquiry. " What ! " exclaimed Keziah, her indig-
nation really mantling through the dirtiness of her face. " Kiss you ! kiss you ! Well :
Guys is riz ! " And with a laugh, hilariously contemptuous, the maid-of-all-work made
the house ring.

Heindrich paced the room for a few minutes ; and then, throwing his ample cloak
around him, he took his cane in his hand, placed his hat on his head, and hurried
into the street.

" Yes ! it shall he done. Cost what it may, I will obtain the power I have so long
coveted. Roch Albert's skill shall make me envied where now I am despised." As
he spoke Heindrich stood before the door of the Magian for such Roch Albert was
now accounted by many who had long derided the vaunted power of the being who
was to make Heindrich happy (happy ?) by the knowledge he so much desired.
Heindrich 's heart beat fast within him as he saw Roch Albert's door open in answer to
his summons and more so when an aged crone introduced him into the chamber of the

" Be seated, sir," said the old woman ; " the master will be disengaged presently
and see, he is here already." Without making any obeisance, the wrinkled crone left
the room.

" Your business, if you please," inquired the Magian. Heindrich's tongue
became dry as pipe-clay as he looked upon the man whose power he coveted and
envied. Roch Albert was clothed in a long gown, secured at the waist by cords and
tassels : his dark beard was unshaven, and his long elf-locks fell about his shoulders ;
and it was not until he had thrown himself into a large arm-chair, and wiped his lips
with a cambric handkerchief, that Heindrich found utterance.

" I would become a disciple, mighty master. I would purchase from you a
knowledge of those mystic signs by which thou hast acquired a fame as deathless as
deathless as " Heindrich paused for a simile.

" Enough ! " said Roch Albert, " I understand you ;" and opening a volume,
displayed to the delighted gaze of Heindrich the mystic signs which were to make him
the most fascinating of his sex. As Heindrich gazed upon the characters, Roch Albert
had taken his seat at the opposite side of the room. Strange and enchanting sounds
seemed to pervade the air, and Heindrich read their meaning in the volume before him.
Drunken, nay, maddened with delight, the poor hunchback threw his purse upon the

table, and rushed from the house of the enchanter.


" Menie ! dear Menie ! congratulate me on my newly acquired power."
" I dare not, Heindrich dear, I dare not. I fear that all you have acquired so
dearly will prove your curse," replied Menie.

Heindrich laid down his pipe, and smoked no more for an hour.


Bright and beautiful were the faces assembled in the little drawing-room of Hubert
Spitzhaiiser. Noble forms with luxuriant beards were seeking to win smiles and
words from lips as rosy and lovely as an autumn sunset. Their efforts were in vain.
Each tune the knocker reverberated through the house, maiden would turn to maiden
and whisper, " I hope 'tis he I hope 'tis Heindrich." At length he came, and every


beauteous being crowded round the hitherto despised hunchback ; voices that breathed
only music, bade him welcome ; and hands as soft as the paw of a sleeping kitten,
pressed his in friendly recognition. Menie was wrong ! The SPELL had brought him
happiness. Hour after hour he invoked the sounds he had heard at Roch Albert's, and
was rewarded with the outpourings of many a happy heart. And thus it was, day
after day, night after night, week after week, where'er he went he was called upon to
exercise his wondrous powers, until Menie 's prognostication was frequently present to
Heindrich.-^-" Can she be right ? " he thought : " alas ! I fear it already do I grow
weary of this continual solicitation this continual exertion." Days, nights, and
weeks passed on, and Heindrich felt the CURSE that was with him. Never ! never
was he to know peace again. Those mystic sounds were asked for by all ; for all
must he awake them. In his slumbers they were in his ears ; some demon instrument
for ever thumped the accursed sounds :

Yes, gentlest, dearest of readers Heindrich had acquired his influence with the
ladies by his knowledge of the sixty Polkas of Jullien ; where'er he went he was the
musician of the evening, until Heindrich, the unhappy Heindrich, became Polka-



, the son of Anchises and Venus, was a Trojan prince, and he behaved like
a regular Trojan on several occasions. He was placed under the care of a nymph till
he was five years old, or in other words, put out to nurse ; but his education was com-
pleted under Chiron, who seems to have kept an academy for heroes, or perhaps, an
evening school for classical adults. He taught music, war, and medicine ; so that he
was one of the sort of general practitioners whom Sir Graham's proposed bill would have
licensed to kill or cure according to circumstances. After leaving school JEneas married
Miss Creusa Priam, the daughter of old Priam, and had a son and heir named
Ascanius. He fought well in the Trojan war, and distinguished himself in a manner
worthy of the fire-brigade at the burning of Troy, carrying his old father pickaback out
of the flames, with his son in his hand, but husband-like leaving his wife to make the
best of her way after him.

Some say that he returned to hide her, for which others read Ida; but Strabo
makes him out a sort of Cubitt, who entered largely into building speculations, among
which was the rebuilding of Troy, with all its streets and squares. But Virgil insists
that he only made a passage into Italy. After some extensive travelling, he arrived
with his father in Sicily, where the old gentleman died ; and the son, then going to
sea again, was cast on the shores of Africa, where Dido set her cap at him with con-
siderable earnestness. JEneas gave her a good deal of encouragement, and had at
one time serious intentions ; but the gods forbidding the banns, he absconded, to avoid
the consequences of an action, either by sea or land, for a breach of promise. Being
again driven to Sicily, he consulted the Cumsean Sibyl the Mademoiselle Le Normant



of those days who took him to the Shades, where he met with the governor, Anchises,
who told his son the fate that awaited him. ^Eneas seems to have heen a rather

extensive ship-owner ; for after having lost no less than thirteen, he arrived at the Tiher,
where he received an invitation to spend a few weeks with Latinus, the king, who
promised him in marriage his daughter Lavinia, who was no relation to "the lovely
young Lavinia," who, according to Thomson, "once had friends." There seems to
have heen a misunderstanding about this young lady's hand ; for while her papa had
offered it to ^Eneas, her mama had promised it to Turnus. To prevent any incon-
venience, it was arranged that JEneas and Turnus should "fight it out;" and the latter
being killed, the former married Lavinia, and built Lavinium in honour of her much
on the same principle as Queen Victoria caused the building of the Albert Gate, in
honour of the prince-consort. ^Eneas succeeded his father-in-law on the Latin throne ;
but continuing pugnacious, he was killed in a battle with the Etrurians or as some
say, he fell into the river Numicus, when his armour being heavy, and none of the
Humane Society being on the spot, he was unable to get out again.

^Esopus (or ^Esop). A Phrygian philosopher, who, though originally a slave, or
livery-servant, procured his liberty by the sallies of his genius, or in other words, by
making jokes, which was taking a liberty in the double meaning of the term. He
took a tour in Greece and Italy, but generally hung out at the court of Croesus, King
of Lydia, who sent him to consult the oracle of Delphi, of which ^Esop made an
excellent thing, though Croesus could make nothing of the answer of the oracle when
it was brought to him. J3sop is said to have been awfully severe on the Delphians,
but the only sarcasm that has been handed down to us is a wretched specimen of
abortive humour. He compared the Delphians to floating sticks, which appear large
at a distance, but are nothing when brought near. The Delphians must have been



particularly sensitive to have been hurt by this dim bit of satire, which will not bear
examination, for floating sticks would look smaller at a distance than when they came
near ; so that M sop's sarcasm was as great a failure in fact as in pungency. The
Delphians were so dreadfully cut up about it, that they ^ot up a charge against him of
having secreted one of the sacred vessels of Apollo's Temple, so that J^sop was pro-
bably the first man who was convicted of pot-stealing. Maximus Planudes says that
JSsop was short and deformed, which is not true, though the publishers of the school
editions of his fables have adopted this view of him, and always represent ^Esop with
a large hump on his back, and a modern watering-pot in his hand, doing a bit of


n antr Out at Eflntron.



'Tis sweet to watch a river in its course,

And pleasant 'tis to loiter on its marge,
Save when behind you an unheeded horse

Is drawing by a rope a loaded barge.
Sweet is the gentle murmuring of the stream,

Its echo on the breezes softly dying
But not so sweet, when waking from a dream,

You find yourself beneath its waters lying.
'Tis sweet to ramble on a towing-path,

Thinking of friends and years long past away,
But not so sweet an unexpected bath

Upon a very cold December day ;
Ay, 'tis a bitter fact as such I book it,
I know what such a bath must be I took it.
I stood in Putney on the wooden pier,

A clerk and waterman on either side,
Each pouring rapidly into my ear

Fair words in which 'twere folly to confide.
One with a wild and earnest scream,

Invites me to his fragile boat,
The other whispers, " Go by steam,

Unless you 'd rather sink than float."
I turn away as if in doubt,

While they with wondrous power of lung
Proceed to fight the matter out,

With the artillery of tongue.

* * " * *

The steamer had a gallant crew,

And hearts were brave though hands were few ;

The captain was a tar as bluff

As ever gave the word to luff.


I've marked him as he trod the decks
Receive the fares and give the checks ;
Yet all the while, with eager zeal,
Keeping his eye upon the wheel,
And give the orders quick as thought
To keep the vessel hard-a-port.
England, with mariners like these,
Must aye be mistress of the seas,
And wheresoe'er the ocean laves,
Britannia still must rule the waves.


As the arrow set free

From its home in the quiver,
So are we so are we,

As we shoot down the river.
Four figures round the funnel cluster :
What is the meaning of the muster,
Why do they thus together stand ?
I see, I see, the band the band !
An ophycleide with awful groan,
Begins the concert all alone.
He might as well continue mute,

For none con comprehend his strains,
Till the assistance of a flute

The nature of the tune explains ;
As good advice in grumbling speech

Will fall unheeded to the ground,
Although the heart at once 'twould reach,

If mingled with a gentler sound.

Sweet Battersea, I view thy shady bowers,
Where I did court the muse in happier hours,
And memory a tearful tribute yields
Unto thy merry groves thy laughing fields ;
Thy gardens gushing with Pomona's stores,
Thy meadows skirted with bulrushy shores ;
Lying along by old Thamesis' side,
Nature has surely decked thee for his bride.
Sweet Battersea, where Thomson lived and sung,
The home of Johnson, and the abode of Young ;
There flourished Smith, and there the undying Brown
Rush'd from the tumult of the heartless town.
And there for lettered ease the classic Snooks,
From city's smoke flew with his harp and books,
Striking at intervals the cherished lyre,
And filling outside foolscap by the quire.



Fair Battersea, thy fatal charms
Have lured a hermit to thine arms ;
Upon thy coast a pilgrim dwells,
Who tickets for the steamer sells,
But no one ever doth intrude
Upon that pilgrim's solitude.
A book of checks before him lies,
Which he regards with anxious eyes.
As if to read his fate, he 'd look
Into that useless little book ;
And if a stranger seeks his wicket,
To pay a fare and take a ticket,
That pilgrim looks with wildness round,
Scared by the unaccustomed sound.
At noon that pilgrim spreads his board,
(Small luxury his means afford) :
A basin filled with humble fare,
Enough, but not a bit to spare ;


While in that savage, lone retreat,
Crows hover o'er the savoury meat ;
The wildness of the scene around
Gives to his fears substantial ground ;
Until that hermit in his den
Begins to doubt his fellow-men ;
And when for tickets they apply,

He thinks them not in earnest half,
But wildlv at them winks his eye,

And tells them he is up to chaff.


Our vessel anchors at the Railroad Pier,

We leave romantic Chelsea in our rear ;

High on the margin of the northern coast

Is Chelsea's Hospital, and England's boast ;

The heroes veterans or what else you'd style 'em,

Are there provided with a snug asylum ;

The soldier 'neath his laurels may repose,

Found in his hoard, his lodging, and his clothes.

Ah ! Glory hangs its wreaths on sorry pegs,

The stumps of arms cut off and wooden legs.

I turn my eyes from Chelsea's blood-stain 'd site,

And see Vauxhall meandering on my right.

Vauxhall ! there is a magic in the sound ;

Step softly, for we are on classic ground.

From off the steamer vigorous fancy jumps

On to those walks once trod by Simpson's pumps :

He was the type of elegance and ease,

He dimmed the lights that hung upon the trees ;

Their branches must have yielded to his bow,

But where, alas ! are Simpson's greetings now ?

He who a visit e'er did pay

To Vauxhall Gardens in the day,

Or e'en till daylight's dawn did wait,

After some gay and glittering fete,

Before the oilman's active fingers

Put out the lamps where light still lingers,

And mark'd the cold and cheerless air

Of the few guests remaining there ;

Would not believe all look'd so bright

As late as the preceding night.

Such is the garden I explore ;

Vauxhall but gay Vauxhall no more :

So coldly clean, so deadly fair

We start, for all is wanting there.

Thy last year's fetes were smiles in death,

Which part not quite with parting breath ;

Thy glory's last receding ray,

A garish gas-light showing thy decay.

Adieu ! Vauxhall ; I look across the tide,

What vision greets me on the other side ?


" He who a visit e'er did pay."
If we remember rightly, Byron has some lines commencing

" He who hath bent him o'er the dead,"

which may be thought to bear some resemblance to this portion of the Wanderings. The coincidence is
certainly striking, but it only shows that the contemplation of Vauxhall brought the same ideas into the mind
of Greenhorn as those suggested by Greece to Lord Byron.




MAN, in his relation to the boards of a minor theatre, is a very wonderful animal.
Curious, indeed, are the creatures that breathe the dramatic air, and inhabit the set
pieces of scenic life, ranging the canvas woods, and sauntering in the practicable
groves, listening to the warbling woodlark in the band, or being summoned to the field
of glory by a trumpeter standing at the side scenes. Man, in this state, defies the

1st Robber. Is that an ouse ?

2nd Robber. No : it 's a ninn.

3rd Rubber. ISo : it "s a nut.

sagacity of the ingenious Pritchard, who flies flabbergasted from the contemplation of a
being so utterly subversive of all the usual theories.

Perhaps the habit of holding the mirror up to nature, may account far the upside-
downishness which is so often met with in a dramatist's view of humanity : for let the
reader seize a dressing-glass which is more convenient than a mirror and hold it up
to the ceiling which is more come-at-able than nature and the reflection will puzzle
him as to whether he is on his head or his heels. His writing-table will appear
sticking to the roof of the apartment ; the lamp in the centre of his room will seem to
be standing on the floor ; and his fire will be blazing away over, instead of underneath,
his chimney-piece. This practice, therefore, of holding up a mirror to anything, is
calculated to throw an air of topsyturvmess over the object reflected ; and thus, as it
has been just observed, may the boulevcrsement of human nature by the minor dramatist
be at once accounted for. Perhaps there is no finer illustration of the above remarks



than the theatrical tar, or British seaman, whose total variation from all other seamen,
British as well as foreign, causes him to stand alone ; though, by the by, the power of
standing alone is shared by the skittle, the noun substantive, and a variety of other
articles that the imagination soon gets crowded with.

To return, however, to the British seaman, as he used to be according to the 25th
of George the Second, and as he is according to the license of the Lord Chamberlain.
The British seaman tells everybody he meets to " Belay, there," which we find, by a
reference to a dictionary of sea-terms, is making a rope fast by turns round a pin or coil
without hitching or seizing it. He calls his legs his timbers, though timbers, in
nautical language, mean ribs ; and he is continually requesting that they may be
shivered. He is always either on terms of easy familiarity with his captain or
particularly mutinous, and is often in love with the same young lady as his superior
officer, whom, in consequence of their affections clashing, he generally cuts down to a
mere hull, as he technically expresses it. He calls every elderly person a grampus,
and stigmatises as a land-lubber every individual whose pursuits do not happen to be
nautical. When at sea, though only a common sailor, the stage tar is the most
important personage in the vessel ; and the captain frequently retires to the side of the
ship sitting, . probably, on a water-barrel in order to leave the entire deck at the
service of the tar, while he indulges in
a naval hornpipe. The dramatic sea-
man usually wears patent leather pumps
and silk stockings, when on active
service ; and, if we are to believe
what he says, he is in the habit of
sitting most unnecessarily on the main
topgallant in a storm at midnight, for
the purpose of thinking of Polly.
When he fights, he seldom conde-
scends, to engage less than three at
a time ; and if the action has been
general a moment before, he has the

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