1 VI. But thou-dear Mary-Mary mine! hast ever looked the same, YOUNG SCOTLAND. I'll trouble you for that volume— BON GAULTIER. Tell me first what you think of that. YOUNG SCOTLAND. Oh never yet was Captain so dauntless as Dundee ; He has nipped one of my best ballads in the bud; mons. that's all. Hand it over, will you? O'MALLEY. I intend to join the Repealers. Batoon me, Sir, but these English are carrying things with rather too high a hand! They seem resolved to carry Ireland at the mere point of the bayonet; and as for you Scotch folks,-(I hope Charles Edward does not hear me,)-they know very well that you will swallow any bolus they are pleased to administer, without wincing. I'll tell you what, Bon, it is something, now-a-days, to call yourself an Irishman, for, right or wrong, our pluck is past denial; but I had just as lief be called a spaniel as a Scot. BON GAULTIER, Has England no spaniels? Yes; but she has mastiffs also: dogs of the surly old Saxon breed, who will take a bull by the nose as blithely as they would worry a rat. Have you one of that breed extant among you? If so, it is clear that his bark has never been heard in the House of Commons. BON GAULTIER. We bite, not bark. O'MALLEY. Bite, indeed! Deuce a tooth have you exhibited since the Forty-five, and the century is well nigh come to its completion. Mark me, now,—I am all for peace and good fellowship, and that sort of thing, and should be loth to see the day when the kine of Northumberland were as cheap and plentiful in the Grassmarket as strawberries. But did either Scotland or Ireland resign their national privileges, so as to give this domineering England a right of sovereignty over us? YOUNG SCOTLAND (reading.) "Then outspake gallant Claverhouse, and his soul thrill'd wild and high; And he showed the king his subjects, and he prayed him not to fly. O'MALLEY. You should get that lad into the House of ComHe'd do more for you than fifty sluggards. Just look what these English fellows do. If Scotland is to be stripped of any of her national privileges, they are in their places to a man; but let any measure of undoubted national benefit be introduced, such as your Heritable Securities Bill, and the House is counted out! Then they consider London, not only as the seat of government, (though a legal parliament might be held quite as well in Edinburgh, Dublin, or Oxford,) but as the central point of the three kingdoms, which is to absorb the national institutions of the whole. Accordingly, from the public purse, to which we all contribute in common, come these munificent grants which make it the city of palaces, whilst the other capitals are refused a single farthing. What has government done for the promotion of the fine arts in Scotland? Nothing. BON GAULTIER. driving matters to extremity. We have never ceased for a moment to harp upon our grievances; and the consequence is, that we are ten times better off than you are. Our exemptions are remarkable; we have no Income Tax; Dublin has a vice-regal court; and we have annual grants of money, ay, and large ones, too, for our public works and hospitals. The Scottish Episcopalians, a body almost Quixotic in their loyalty, are about to build a college. Do you think they will get any assistance from the Government? Not one penny, though Gladstone is in the Cabinet; and yet the very same Government do not hesitate to give an enormous sum annually for the maintenance of a Popish seminary at Maynooth. BON GAULTIER. So far as interest goes, it is certainly better to be a Papist and Anabaptist in Ireland than an Episcopalian in Scotland. Our bishops have no Regium Donum, whilst I observe that £40,000 a-year are voted for your Protestant Dissenting clergy. O'MALLEY. Of course, because you never made a row about it. We Irish have too much sense to quarrel over our bread and butter. We know very well that it is for our common interest to get as much money into the country, and to keep it as long as we can; but you Scotch have a different notion. BON GAULTIER. A most insane one, certainly. Some of us are idiots enough to grumble, because our judges have retired salaries. My wish is, that the venerable gentlemen may live as long as Methuselah, or, at least, until they see a different order of things established, which must be when the old Scottish Are you sure that it has not departed? Who dares dream of that? So long as Melrose holds the heart of the Bruce, or Blair-Athole the ashes of Dundee, or Dryburgh the bones of Scott, I will not believe that the old country can forget her pristine greatness. What! when there is hardly a field that has not drunk the blood of our ancestors, all battling for their ancient freedomnot a mountain that has not seen the Ruddy Lion stream free in the winds of heaven-not a river that has not carried the red tidings of baffled invasion to the sea-shall we permit our old nationality to perish, and walk at the heels of England as tamely as a rated cur? No, gentlemen! I for one stand by the Union treaty; but I will fight for it against aggression, word by word, and clause by clause; and woe, say I, to the man who violates it in a tittle, be he prince, peer, or minister. Thank God, sir, there is yet a sting in the leaf of the rugged thistle! BON GAULTIER. Amen; and now no more on't. Charles, if you will not part with Smythe's volume, read us another stanza or two. It may allay your excitement a little; and such poetry as that is well worth being listened to. YOUNG SCOTLAND. Here is the latter part of "The Loyalist of the Vendée." You are to understand that young Henri de la Rochejaquelein is the speaker: The King, I saw the accursed cap on his anointed head; And he bade it count the pulses, and bade it thence learn rest. The Queen, her proud lip curled with scorn through all those fierce alarms, Then, her mien grew still and stately, though she shook in every limb: And then and there I swore Santerre should rue that bitter wrong; Then follow me, where'er it be, I make into the foe And if I flinch, or fail one inch, then straightway strike me low; Now, Charge! for De la Rochejaquelein, for the Heart, and for the Cross ! with Never better ballad started from the heroic used to hear a great deal about that scamp, forge! his long hair and bludgeon. Is he extinct? BON GAULTIER. Not a bit of him. He is sacré-ing away at no allowance in the train of Joinville; a very competent leader, if all accounts be true. O'MALLEY. BON GAULTIER. Admirable indeed! You must look to your laurels now, Charles, for this is a formidable competitor. Let no man henceforward deny that Young England has its thews and sinews. O'MALLEY. I hope Abd-el-Kader will give their jackets 3 What the deuce is Young France doing? We sufficient dusting. ""Tis they!" exclaimed the aged Scheik. "I've battled by their side - Red as thy turban, Moor, that eve, was every creek in Nile! VIII. "Their Sultaun, Scheik, remains at home within his palace walls: He was not there. An Aga burst for him through Atlas' hold. Told me his effigy was stamped upon this medal here-- IX. The old man took the golden coin: looked steadfastly awhile, He guided o'er the desert path-then sighed and thus spake he""Tis not his eye-'tis not his brow-another face is there, I never saw this man before-his head is like a pear! Take back thy medal, Moor-'tis not that which I hoped to see." O'MALLEY. Charley, you're a regular trump! YOUNG SCOTLAND. Ah now, my dear fellow! do tell us something about the Legion. Confound the Old Peninsular exploits. What between Captain Hamilton and Colonel Napier and the squadron of military quilldrivers, who have spoiled more foolscap than cartridge wrappers, we know every inch of the campaigning ground from Torres Vedras to the Pyrennees. No, captain! Give us something fresh. You were one of those who drew the sword with Evans, and gathered, if not laurels, at least a change of linen, with the Westminster heroes, from the verdant hedgerows of Spain. Surely there must be something worth remembrance in such a chivalrous crusade. O'MALLEY. Faith, Charley, as to linen, there was as little of that as an elderly gentleman could desire. Happy was the man amongst us who saved his own British shirts, without wasting fruitless efforts in pursuit of the Lusitanian tweel. It was a devilish bad business, I can tell you. Only conceive my disgust, when, instead of commanding a company of Herculean heroes, I found myself degraded into the leader of the most villanous pack of rogues that ever were swept from the assizes! Barrington was a joke to my serjeant. Before he was enlisted a fortnight he had pawned the regimental colours for a quart of gin, and picked my pocket twice upon parade. It was no use tying him up to the halberts, for every one of the drummers was under sentence of transportation, and treated the back of their ancient pal as tenderly as if it had been their own. The only tune under which they would advance to action was the "Rogue's March ;" and we were obliged to remind them that they lay under the eye of the London police, before a single dummy-hunter would masticate the butt end of a cartridge. YOUNG SCOTLAND. How did they behave in battle? O'MALLEY. Tolerably well when we got them behind the shelter of a vineyard wall. The squadron of the Seven Dials were very decent marksmen, and picked off any Carlist officer who seemed to have a watch, with really creditable precision. I had the command for some time of the Ninth Poltroons. They were splendid foragers-first-rate fellows at the clearing of a farm-house, or the expiscation of a hen-roost. I have seen them, too, make very fair strippage after a skirmish, and conduct a retreat with singular intrepidity. They fought upon the system of the ancients ;-the true heroic principle. Sportsmen, too, to a man! Always shot flying. Lord bless you! the British Diomede had no personal quarrel with the Peninsular Glaucus. He by no means thirsted for his blood, not he; he merely entertained a Homeric passion for his golden armour; and, if that could not be compassed by stealth, (fair dealing was out of the question,) he hesitated not to send a bullet through your Don, and possess himself lawfully of his spoils. What the deuce would you have more? Hector did precisely the same! BON GAULTIER. A very sensible reflection! O'MALLEY. Catch one of the Ninth exposing his carcass for nothing! I tried at first to rouse them with a few remarks about glory, freedom, and that sort of thing; but I soon perceived that although the eyes of the Whitechapel warriors were rigidly directed towards the left, every warlike tongue was knowingly insinuated into the dexter cheek. After that, I suited my language to my audience, and by persuading them that every Carlist carried a rouleau in his haversack, we managed to do tolerable execution. YOUNG SCOTLAND. Did you remain long with this interesting corps? O'MALLEY. As short a time as possible. No sooner had my So we last pair of stockings disappeared, I own to some doubts about the probity of the Ensign. than I exchanged into the Black Sculkers, a fine cavalry regiment, which made war principally upon its own account. We We were not very particular as to the politics of the natives. A Spaniard, you know, is not to be depended upon, resolved ourselves into a sort of armed neutrality, and never harmed any body, unless he refused the key of the wine cellar. That, you know, was equivalent to an admission of treason; for where else would a man in his senses conceal a secret dispatch? Many is the cask we have emptied to the bottom in order to bring those hidden secrets to light, and many a jovial night we used to have with the Padres, who in my opinion did not care a copper whether Carlist or Christino had the uppermost. Tom Burke, who was our Major, managed things admirably. He was as drunk as a fish during the whole campaign, and yet took such care of his men, that not a soul of them was sacrificed in battle. BON GAULTIER. A judicious commander indeed! O'MALLEY. Was he not? We never stormed any thing except a convent, and even then we behaved ourselves like gentlemen. The government were not ungrateful. Tom is a Grand Cross of the Order of Saint Sauve-qui-peut. BON GAULTIER. He bears his honours meekly. Very. Well, thank Heaven I'm done with campaigning. It's all very nice for lads like you, but an old soldier needs repose when his way of life is falling into the autumnal leaf. Charles, what's that you're after? YOUNG SCOTLAND. Scratching down the heads of a lay, "I learned of one, I talked withal." Shall I sing it to you? It will do famously for a chapter in your next serial-say-"A Night with the Ninth, or Heavy Marauders," or something equally alliterative and alluring. THE LAY OF THE LEGION. When I was in the Legion A short time ago, We went the pace as pleasantly As ever you did know: The cares of life and warlike strife As we walked into the Sherry casks, For we bold lads of Evans' Went roving with the moon Old Spain was made for the Newgate blade, But as for open cut-and-thrust, Marched to another tune, And "right about!" was still the shout How jolly looked the Convent ! The nuns and Lady Abbess made, What screams and squalls rung through the walls, "Twas like to deafen me, When our Captain took his helmet off, And begged the cellar key! Got tipsy very soon,— If I were there again, I would not leave an ounce of plate I'd fake away, the livelong day, And drink till all was blue; No milk-and-water spoon, And crack the flasks and drain the casks BON GAULTIER. Hold hard, Charles. I would not listen to another line, though Apollo himself were the singer; for here comes the Thane with the strawberries. (General excitement.) OCCASIONAL STANZAS. ADDRESSED TO A DYING FAVOURITE, Poor, suffering wretch! whom years of love Words cannot tell what pain it is Thy many fond, endearing ways Thou 'It never run to welcome me, The thought that now, though lost to me, No further suff'ring thou can'st know. That stretched upon thy earthy bed Thou 'lt sleep, the worm's unconscious guest :Oh! if a sigh would bring thee back, That sigh should sternly be represt. Yet if there be, as we believe, Beyond the grave some happier shore, Oh! then, perhaps, in that blest place, SWYNFEN JERVIF. |