LINES WRITTEN IN THE ALBUM OF AN album, this! why, 'tis, for aught I see, Goes round with, like a gipsy as she is, Albums are records kept by gentle dames, To show us that their friends can write their names; The names, to see what has been done before, Johnson succeeds, and Thomson, Jones, and Clarke, Out of the Speaker; then come John's "sweet lines," Alas! why sit I here, committing jokes Make friends more friendly, grace one's good intentions, Blush to look round on deathless company*. LEIGH HUNT. The Album in question has to boast of some of the first literary names in the country. EARLY one morning, in a light and airy attic, sat the son of Latona, nibbling the end of a goose-quill, and puzzling his brains for a rhyme; for, besides being driver to the splendid four-horse light-coach, called the Sun, of which his father Jupiter was sole proprietor, he had acquired a taste for the lighter literature of the day; and had obtained so much celebrity, that he even attracted the notice of the Day and Martin" of the period, and was actually employed in writing a puff. This intellectual pursuit was not only productive of praise but profit, and added considerably to his perquisites. His employers were delighted with his effusions, and, in fact, the Day went so far as to avow that he should have remained completely in the shade, had it not been for Apollo's brilliant aid and assistance. Apollo was so absorbed in his poetical reverie, that he completely lost sight of the imperative duty which demanded his punctual attendance in the inn-yard from whence the "Sun" started every morning at day-break. Some fault may, perhaps, be attributed to the parental indiscretion of Jupiter, in electing him to a situation so discordant to his natural temperament and inclination; for it was obvious to the most disinterested observer that his literary talents more fitted him for the "stage" than a four-horse coach. Now his son Phaëton, of whom he "could make nothing," had a great ambition to mount the box and handle the ribbons; and being, moreover, a bold and rather good-looking youth, would certainly, with training, have proved an adept, and no doubt have become a great favourite on the road. Naturally presuming, it was his favourite boast among the cads, ostlers, and helpers, with whom he consorted, that he would be "bound" to do the distance in six hours instead of twelve; in the practicability of which they all agreed to a man. It happened, on the very morning that Apollo was so busily occupied with the engrossing theme of his lucubrations, that Phaeton was partaking of a pint of purl (won at a game of heads and tails by the cunning ostler) in the dingy tap-room of the inn. In an adjoining settle lolled an old man, indulging in a glass of "cold without.' His head was bald and wrinkled-his nose flat and broad, and his ears almost as large and flapping as those of an elephant --his eyes were red and " horny," and no man, even ignorant of physiognomy, would have set him down as a member of the Temperance Society. "I say, you whelp!" cried he, stretching out his neck towards the door," leave that 'ere donkey alone, will you? By gog! if he lifts his leg, and fetches you a kick, he'll send you a pretty considerable way into next week, I can tell you. Come, be off!" "It's a speritted hanimal that, Master Silenus," observed the ostler. "I b'lieve you." "Thof I shouldn't think there warn't much go in him neither, for there an't more nor a hand's-breadth of daylight under him." "What's that you say?" Why, that he's liker a sow than a greyhound, I take it." "That's a good proof he's like you," said Silenus. "Like me?" Ay, for he's better fed than taught, knave." This insulting comparison upon the ostler aroused his indignation; he jumped up and approached old Silenus in a menacing attitude. "I'll fetch you a punch!" cried he. "No, you won't!" said Bacchus, interposing; "shan't lick my foster-father!" "Come, come," said Eolus, who was blowing a cloud in the chimney-corner, "let's have no blustering. If the chap's fightable, I'm his man. Egad! he'll find me as ready at a blow as any one!" "I don't fear his punch!" exclaimed Silenus, waxing courage on the strength of his allies, and trying to stand upon his legs. "Provided the same be served in a bowl!" said Phaeton, with a wink, for he inherited a portion of the wit and fire of his father; whereat the company laughing, the scales were turned, and the choler of the ostler evaporated. 66 Toss you for another pint, Master Phaeton," said the ostler, turning to his chum and finishing the potation before them at a draught. 66 Done," cried Phaëton. "How shall it be?" "Best two and three, and none of your tricks upon travellers," replied the son of Apollo, pulling out his coin and narrowly watching the actions of the knowing ostler. "Sky the coppers," said the ostler. The toss was made. "Ooman!" continued he. "It's head," said Phaëton. The ostler now twirled his penny scientifically, caught it, and placed it under his hand upon the table. "Now keep your hand still,-no shuffling," said Phaeton. "Do you think, now ?" cried the ostler, in a tone of remonstrance, laying his palm flat upon the beer-washed mahogany. "Head! and head it is, by Jingo!" exclaimed Phaeton, as delighted as a hungry man over a small steak. Come, fetch the stuff in a twinkling." While the ostler was gone to the bar for the sweet beverage the sound of a fiddle in the yard attracted the attention of the loungers in the tap-room. "Why, that's Thingumee, I vow," muttered Silenus, his eyes halfclosed in that dreamy state of semi-intoxication in which his senses were usually clouded. "And who's Thingumee, dad?" inquired Bacchus. Why, What's-his-name," continued the explicit old drunkard; "bless me why him whose wife bit a serpent in the heel, you know, and went to "Oh! old Orpheus !" interrupted Bacchus, smiling. "Poor fellow! he never recovered his loss, although he went farther than most men would have done in the endeavour. Boy, fetch him in, and let's have a scrape. I'll find the old beau in rosin!" Orpheus, bending beneath the weight of care and age, entered the smoky apartment with his bow and fiddle grasped in his bony hand. It was evident that he had once been eminently handsome, but Affliction had ruled broad lines and written her characters in "large hand" upon his expansive brow. Orpheus was, in truth, a picturesque ruin of a gentleman of the old school, and there was still a sweetness of tone and a certain suavity of manner and address that won rather than commanded respect from all. "Orphy, my boy," said the good-natured Bacchus, after the other had taken a seat, "what's it to be?" "I'll take a little half-and-half with the chill off, if you please," replied Orpheus with humility. "And so you shall," answered Bacchus; "and while you are wetting your whistle with that, cookey shall toast you a rabbit.” "You are very kind," said the old man, bowing. The half-and-half was ordered and "paid for upon delivery,” according to the law chalked upon the black board over the chimney-place. Have you anything new to sing us ?" asked Bacchus. "Nothing," replied Orpheus; " for I suppose you have heard my last composition upon Ixion *?". "What, the fellow at the riding-school, he that Squire Jupiter sentenced to the treadmill for calumniating the immaculate Mrs. Juno?" said Bacchus. "No, indeed I have not let's have the canticle, old boy; but first take a little rosin," and he politely handed him the "pewter." After a characteristic " preludio," Orpheus sang the following: Song. Beware, my lads, ye never put Great Jupiter your tricks on, Lest he should send you to the wheel, As he did Master Ix'on. Turn about, Ix'on, Wheel about, Ix'on, Turn about, wheel about, turn about, Ix'on. Chorus. Turn about, Ix'on, Wheel about, Ix'on, Turn about, wheel about, turn about, Ix'on., At this part of his song, Orpheus sprang up from his seat, and, while fiddling and singing, pirouetted and whirled about the room in such an • Ixion was one of the most celebrated riding-masters of the day, and brought his art to such consummate perfection, and made his pupils sit their saddles so admirably, that he used to boast that they were like a part of the animal they rode; from which expression those veracious gentlemen, the poets, feigned that he was the father of the Centaurs. extraordinary and exciting manner, that, his music and motion combined, inspired the whole company, who imitated his circumgiratory movements with all the vigour and velocity of dancing dervishes. Turn about, wheel about, turn about, Ix'on. Just as Orpheus had concluded his classic carol, the mirth of the company was disturbed by Silenus, who, in a ludicrous attempt at "cutting six," fell sprawling on the floor of the tap-room, while the clumsy toe of the rough-shod ostler coming in stunning contact with his |