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BRIEF ABSTRACT OF MR O'FOGARTY'S JOURNAL
On looking over my journal I find was a gentleman of good family resie it so barren of incident, that I do not ding in the Old Town of Edinburgh, think it worth my while to send it where his wealth, talents, and general entire. Take then this short abstract. virtues, render him the life of society, On the 5th ult. I rose after nearly and the idol of Auld Reekie. He four months' confinement to bed. Í amuses himself, I continued, by conhad experienced a sad randling during ducting the greatest literary work of a that time. My skin like a lady's loose modern times—by which he makes gown hung about me-my jaws were about six thousand á-year,* (was I drawn in-my face hatchety-my eyes right?) which, as well as his private b=-= sunk and hollow-and my clothes in- property, (a very considerable one,) he vested my once goodly person with as spends in such a bounteous hospitality
, little congruity as a four-bag would that he is in general suspected to be az act the part of waistcoat to a spit. Irishman.“Yes,” said my noble friend, The entries for a week in my diary, “my son, who was, you know, of Exe- consist chiefly of notes of squabbles ter, Oxon, told me he heard as much with my doctors-who one and all from a friend of his, Mr Buller, of seemed leagued in a conspiracy to Brazen Nose, who spent some days, a starve me. I was firm, however, and couple of years ago, with him on a succeeded in unkennelling them; from party in the Highlands, when Lord which day I got visibly better. I was Fife, Prince Leopold, and other disa soon able to despatch my commons tinguished persons, were part of his with my usual activity. My person company. He had with him at that acquired its wonted amplitude and time a pleasant, and very prime my eye resumed its old fire. I could poet, of the name of Hogg, in his give a halloo with ancient fortitude train, of whom Buller told queer sto of lungs, and in fact was completely ries. My son, who was a cracks re-established. On the 14th, while s man in Oxford, had an idea of contriwas in the act of polishing the wheel buting to North, but since he has been of my salmon-rod, my old friend, the returned for this ruinous county,
he Earl of ******** called on me en pas- he has not an hour to himself." 1 sunt. “ The good-natured, black- this way his Lordship and I beguiled whiskered,” (to speak regally, for it an hour, chatting about the two prowas by this title, you know, the King minent subjects of discourse in Ireland addressed him on the pier at Howth,) at present, his Majesty (if indeed it was delighted to see me pulling up, be proper to call the King a subject) and congratulated me on my recovery. and the Magazine. He pressed me He told me all the Dublin chit-chat hard to go with him to Myros, offer: about his Majesty, who, he said, was ing me his carriage, if I did not find quite pleased at meeting him, and myself well enough to bestride my shook his hand with the utmost cordi- chesnut, Donnelly, but I then declined ality. I had many an anecdote from it. I am, however, there this moment, him which escaped the knowledge of and am writing this Journal in great the mere mob.' The king's private haste in his library, on some of his parties were quite au fuit-and he best wire-wove. On the 15th, Father captivated those who had the honour Buzzhun, with whom I have corres of being admitted to his own imme- ponded from the commencement of diate circle, as effectually as in public my poem, wrote me from Glangarife
, he by his demeanour won the hearts enclosing some Latin verses, narrating of the rest of the population. Our the catastrophe of the poem in a difconversation then turned upon my ferent manner. To oblige the old genpoem, of which he, like every body tleman, I put them in my notes; they else, spoke in terms of the highest appear to me to be as good as Frere's
, commendation-but modesty forbids in his 3d Canto of Whistlecraft
, me to detail what he said on this . which, after all, is the best and most point. But who the devil, says his pleasantly humorous thing in the Lordship, is North? I told him he ottava rima. From this to the 29th, I
* Considerably under the mark. C.N.
spent my time in ranging the hills, pulled, and a ball in the evening, glens, and bogs, to the devastation of flanked by a supper by no means to the feathered tribes, and the demoli- be sneez'd at. There was a good deal of tion of the dinners of my friends. I singing,----none, however, equal to am once more stout as buck or bear Braham's. I have a great mind to Fogarty's himself again, as I display, write a full account of this affair, as I ed on the 25th, (the day of Crispin think it would make a decentish arCrispian, as Harry the Fifth remarks) ticle for the Star of Edina. Thorp at a great dinner party, on the rocks, sung, pretty well, a song of his own where I played a knife and fork to composition, in honour of the Coronathe manifest astonishment of the na- tion-day. It is well enough for one not tive tribes. We were quite jolly,-a yet hardened in the ways of poetry. boat-race in the morning, right well
And, till Sol's in the ocean, we'll dance on the GREEN.” It is superfluous to say that the even are the most personally abusive aniing was spent quite in a genteel man mals of the species. They only cry now ner, and that many gentlemen, of the because they are hurt. I perceive ramost sagacious understandings, were ther an impertinent allusion to my poehighly indebted to the intellectual try, by Mr Trott of London. I know faculty of their horses in their return that shaver. I remember one night, or homeward.
morning, after coming from the eccenOn the 26th, I got the last Number trics, meeting him at the Cyder Celby express, and a right good one it is. lar, in a state of civilation; and he was But what a sputter about personalities! so impertinent about Hireland, that, If I were in North’s place, I should to avoid disputes, I was obliged to not give myself a moment's uneasiness throw him up stairs into the street. about the crying out of the whigs, who This is the meaning of his slap at Blar
ney—but I do not value him a hand- the 29th, I shifted my flag to Myro's ful of turf. * I am more annoyed at Wood, where I still continue.
The the news which I see in last night's pa- house is full of company, and we are per, that Blarney Castle is going to the all as gay as larks. I wrote my last hammer, and that the breach old Noll canto in half an hour before dinner, made in its battlements, will be no- in a room full of people, which is not thing to the gutting it will receive in to be done by your every-day bards. I consequence of the assault of the auc- read it in the course of the evening, tioneer. This is an unkind cut indeed, and it was voted to be a singularly but I hope the new purchaser will be wild original and beautiful poem,” as a man of soul. On the 27th, I seized Lord Byron says of Christabel. Lord my gun-buckled on my shot-pouch Bantry was quite flattered that the and powder-horn, whistled to my dogs, scene of so fine a lay should be placed (I back Sheelah against any pointer in on his estate, and invited me to spend the county,) and set forward to look a month with him. I am beginning to for a covey of partridges. I found it think the Leg of Mutton School of shot seven-but made a better hit on Poetry is the only one which is worth my return-for I met the hospitable. the attention of a true poet. Its prinLord of Barley-hill-one of the fairest ciples are really invariable. I shall confellows in the West-country. I dined sult Aristotle to see what he says about with him—slept at his house--and next it, for I have a great mind to join the morning had a fine dash at a fox, with corps. On the 30th, we enjoyed a fine his famous pack. We found in high cruize in the Lord Exmouth, a noble style, and he led us a chase of about yacht, and fitted up in great style. My sixteen miles. I cannot say that I came noble host is a prime seaman, and hanin for the brush, being, through some dles the rudder well; he cruized round accident, thrown out rather early. I the harbour till dinner time, and took attributed this to my late illness, for a few fish on our way–returned at six, Donnelly was in prime order. But just in ripe order for the venison. though not distinguished at the hunt, This is the last entry in my Journal ; I flatter myself I distinguished myself for these last two days I have been too after dinner, by putting
every man un- busy to write any thing; and, besides, der the table, and retiring with head I hear the dinner bell. unhurt, at three next morning. On
* We must interpose onr authority to prevent this dispute between our contributors going any farther. There should be peace and good will between our men.-C. N.
THE YELLOW LEAF.
The yellow leaf has fall'n,
But a' because I see no more, And the stubble braes are brown,
By bower or burn, or brae, The mountain burns are roaring,
The rosy look and the cheerful eye, And the swallows a' are flown ;
That sunn'd my summer day, The school-boy with his fellows,
The fairest face that e'er I saw, Cowers in aneath the lea,
Lies with the gather'd flowers, And wide and wild o'er the bleak dry The leelest friends that e'er I knew, land,
hours. Flies the grey gull frae the sea.
The foreign turf in a far far land, But its no that summer's fled the bower, Grows o'er my brother's tomb,
Nor the stubble fields are brown, My sister dear that lov'd me best, Nor for the hill-burns roaring,
Sits in a foreign home. And a' the birds that's flown,
And low beneath yon lone grave stone Nor yet to see the schoolboys
My kindly father sleeps, Stand cowering in the lea,
And all alone in yon sad bower, That my weary heart is press'd with dule, My widow mother weeps. And the tear is in my ee.
O ye may fill the cheery bowl,
And troll the catch and glee,
And merry ye may be ;
Nor bowl of merry wine,
LETTER PROY MB SHUFFLEBOTHAM,
On Cheese, Civilization, North Country Ballads, fc. [We had, as Hamlet says, after our usual custom in the afternoon, seated ourselves, as majestically as our gout would permit, in our arm chair of state, to ruminate upon a little article, which we intend shall be cayenne to the palate of the public. Somehow or other, we were a little misty, and the struggle to screw our ideas “to the sticking place” ended, as such attempts sometimes do after dinner, in that state of quiescent pleasure, beyond the reach of opium, during which we read an almanack, or a newspaper nine days old, always returning to the top of the page, to save the troublesome duty of turning over the leaf. Our quiescence, however, was suddenly interrupted by one of those ite nerant bands of musicians who play, after dusk, about the streets of our own “good town.” As it happened, they struck up, within twenty yards of our window, a little simple air, which, deep as we are in Scottish and Irish melody, was entirely new to us. It struck through us with a thrill like the discovery of a new sense. We hobbled to the window, laid our ear to the pane, although a sharp current of air blew into our neck through a crevice in the sash, and drank until the liquid eloquence of the melody was drained to the last drop. We had hobbled back again to our fire-side, with a strong feeling of enthusiasm, and a chilliness about the small of our back, and had just swallowed a bumper of claret, by way of corrective, when the following letter was handed in. We have a good deal of respect at bottom, for old Shufflebotham, though he is sometimes given to prosing, and we were just in the humour for him. Indeed, the old fellow never writes so passably as when he is not, as he calls it, “ upon his Ps and Qs," a state which inevitably renders him marvellously aby surd and formal. We accordingly made up our mind to keep our little Crystal of Merum Sal, as a gem for the concluding number of this volume, and to insert the old boy's letter just as it was, “in puris naturalibus;" and we hereby give warning, that no one need read it unless he be as we were, in what phi. losophers call " a state of negative electricity."
C. N.) TO CHRISTOPHER NORTH, ESQ. DEAR AND HONOURED SIR, blish a well-charactered cheese, and I dare say you'll be thinking that this, when done, not only betokens old Shufflebotham has fairly forgotten the improvement of the dairy, but you; but I've only been out a brace of likewise of the taste of the country weeks, from a bout of my old com round about, which encourages it. As plaint, at which—as we've ha for the ballads, Dinah says you only turn for the muggy weather—you'll not encourage me in my whims and nonwonder. I reckon, that on the rheue sense ; but nobody shall persuade me matic score, you and I are much of a that they are not a barometer of the muchness. I did not like very well refined part of the manners of a disto write neither, till I had the ewe- trict, just as the stocks in London are milk cheese to send ; and if you have of the wealth that's passing from one been thinking it long in coming, the to another. I've heard you say that fault is neither mine, nor Dinah's, nor yourself. There's nobody knows, Mr Ralph Hepple's, who says he left it North, but people who have a natural for Dickinson three weeks ago. It's feeling for these sort of things, what to be hoped you'll think we are im- a hold some of them take of the imaproving in the manufacture ; and, ginations of us country-folk, who have doubtless, the improvement of all never been debauched by living in the sorts of cheese is a proof of the agri- smoke, and bustle, and finery of towns, cultural progress of a countryside, as as these conceited Londoners do, that it were, just as ballads are of the men- ye're so hard upon, though, after all, tal. It requires a handing down, as I some of them are clever chiels too ; but may say, from father to son, to estathat's neither here nor there; you your
self would hardly believe, on a time, lady had left the door ajar, as she was what pleasure a body like me takes in righting the table and setting me down looking over an old thumbed“Ballant- a warm glass of rum and water, and book.' Roger sometimes brings one Roger a sup of ale, when a callant in in from some of the hind-folk; and the kitchen began that song I've heard what a pleasant sensation' the very ye admire, Mr North,—at least when sight of the poor awkward-looking your cherry-cheeked favourite, as ye cuts, and the worse doggrel, which used to call her, poor little Thomasine minds one of young days, can afford. Charlton sang it," He's far. ayont The view of the “King and the Co- the hills the night, but he'll be here bler,” the “ Young Man's Garland,” for a' that.”. The lad lilted well, and
“ Robin Hood,” with their queer there's a charm even in the worst of scrawls of men in odd hats, and broad these simple ballads, when sung with tailed coats, upon chequered pave- feeling and a clear voice. I know that ments, or amongst scrubby trees, most of the tunes I hear about our brings up many a sweet dreamy recol- onstead, are far behind your real Scotlection.
tish airs—for Scotland and Ireland afBut we are wonderfully improved ter all are the lands of song ; but still since these times. Burns and Bewick, they have a swatch of feeling about as I sometimes say, have been the great them, poor ditties though they be, and reformers, the Luther and Calvin both you
may call them, if you like, a sort of of the souls and bodies of the “bal- half way house between your soul-stirlants.” If you give a halfpenny to the ring melodies and the fond modern lads now, they'll bring you in a neat things one gets deaved with, when leaf, with may be one of Burns's best one's fool enough to patronize, as they songs, or some other, marvellously call it, the players at a race or assize smoothed down, since the “ sixteenth time. However, as I was saying, the of May” used to be a crack song in lad sung gaily—“ Whisht," says I to every ale-house. And for cuts, may Roger,“ set the door open, shut thy be a gay decent imitation of one of mouth, and cock thy lugs, for the life Bewick's best tail-pieces, with the of thee-here's something to stop a beasts and birds looking something like gap with ;” and accordingly they soon Christians; for before his time one gave us another specimen Both words never knew what they were. But you'll and tune were new to me and the last wonder what has put all this ballad- appeared to be Irish ; but to my judgsinging into my head; and I should ment, though I'm what your scientihave told you before-however, I must fical folk would call no judge at all, begin at the beginning.-I went the I've heard worse stuff. Not that I other day to bring my nephew Roger would name it in the same day with home from school, which he was obli- your friend Mr Hogg, or Mr Cunninggated to leave on account of a fever ham, or Dr Scott, or Mr Jennings; that had got among them; and a speat but still, what with the fine feeling of of rain coming down the river, we the ditty, and what with the simplicistopped at O to give the beasts, ty of the ballad, it went down. a feed till the wet was over. The land1.
Ainong the mists of Elsinore ;
A jolly sailor's still at home,
Till Nancy takes him by the hand, Before I go to a foreign land.
Even England is a foreign landa