For INTELLECT now has assumed Common sense is set quite at defiance, Sing, tol de rol lol, &c. &c. The WEAVER it surely becomes And almost can tell you off-hand, That the smaller is less than the greater! The TAILOR, in cutting his cloth, Will speak of the true conic section; But he talks of his trade's genuflection! If you laugh at his bandy-legg'd clan, He calls it unhandsome detraction, Though we know that he's only a fraction! The BLACKSMITH 'midst cinders and smoke, His furnace profoundly will poke With the air of a practical chemist: A lingo that's almost historic, The MASON, in book-learned tone, Describes in the very best grammar The resistance that dwells in the stone, And the power that resides in the hammer ; For the son of the trowel and hod Looks as big as the Frog in the Fable, While he talks in a jargon as odd As his brethren the builders of Babel! Sing, tol de rol lol, &c. &c. FAREWELL TO THE BLUE PARLOUR. The COBBLER who sits at your gate Now pensively points his hog's bristle, O'er his work used to sing and to whistle. For a man of polite education His works may be trod under foot, Yet he's one of the Lords of Creation! Oh! learning's a very fine thing! It almost is treason to doubt it— Sing, tol de rol lol, &c. &c. Let schoolmasters bother their brains In their dry and their musty vocation; By meddling with such botheration? We cannot be very far wrong, If we live like our fathers before us, Whose LEARNING went round in the song, And whose cares were dispelled in the CHORUS. 85 North (standing up). Friends-countrymen-and Romans -lend me your ears. You say, James, that that's a gran' jug; well then, out with the ladle, and push about the jorum. No speech-no speech-for my heart is big. This may be out last meeting in the Blue Parlour. Our next meeting in AMBROSE'S HOTEL, PICARDY PLACE!1 (NORTH suddenly sits down; TICKLER and the SHEPHERD in a moment are at his side.) Tickler. My beloved Christopher, here is my smellingbottle.-(Puts the vinegarette to his aquiline nose.) At this time Ambrose was about to shift his sign from Gabriel's Road, at the back of Princes Street, to a large tenement in Picardy Place, facing the head of Leith Walk. It will be seen, in the next Noctes, that the party again met in the old "Blue Parlour" in Gabriel's Road. 86 AFFECTING PREDICAMENT. Shepherd. My beloved Christopher, here is my smellingbottle.-(Puts the stately oblong Glenlivet crystal to his lips.) North (opening his eyes). What flowers are those? Roses -mignonette, bathed in aromatic dew! Shepherd. Yes; in romantic dew-mountain dew, my respected sir, that could give scent to a sybo.1 Tickler. James, let us support him into the open air. North. Somewhat too much of this. It is beautiful moonlight. Let us take an arm-in-arm stroll round the ramparts of the Calton Hill. [Enter Mr AMBROSE, much affected, with NORTH's dreadnought; NORTH whispers in his ear, Subridens olli; Mr AMBROSE looks cheerful, et exeunt omnes. 1 Sybo-a leek. V. (FEBRUARY 1826.) Blue Parlour.-SHEPHERD and TICKLER. Shepherd. I had nae heart for't, Mr Tickler, I had nae heart for't. Yon's a grand hotel in Picardy,—and there can be nae manner o' doubt that Mr Ambrose 'll succeed in it. Yon big letters facing doun Leith Walk will be sure to catch the een o' a' the passengers by London smacks and steam-boats, to say naething o' the mair stationary land population. Besides, the character o' the man himself, sae douce, civil, and judicious. But skill part from my right hand when I forget Gabriel's Road.1 Draw in your chair, sir. Tickler. I wish the world, James, would stand still for some dozen years-till I am at rest. It seems as if the very earth itself were undergoing a vital change. Nothing is unalterable except the heaven above my head,—and even it, James, is hardly, methinks at times, the same as in former days or nights. There is not much difference in the clouds, James, but the blue sky, I must confess, is not quite so very very blue as it was sixty years since; and the sun, although still a glorious luminary, has lost a leetle-just a leetle of his lustre. But it is the streets, squares, courts, closes,-lands, houses, shops, that are all changed-gone-swept off—razed -buried. "And that is sure a reason fair Shepherd. Ony reason's fair enough for that. Here's to you, sir,—the Hollands in this house is aye maist excellent. Mr Ambrose (entering hesitatingly). Gentlemen, as I 1 See ante, p. 85, note. 88 FAREWELL TO THE OLD, AND understood you to say that Mr North is not to honour this Tavern with his presence this evening, perhaps my son had better put off his recitation. Tickler. Anan! Shepherd. Mr Tickler is not in the secret, Ambrose. Why, Mr Tickler, Master Ambrose has composed a poem, which he had intended to recite to us in Picardy Place. It is a welcome to the Hotel. Now, as I have declared my determination never to desert Gabriel's Road till this house is no longer in Ambrose's possession, it is a pity not to hear the youth's verses; so, if you please, though a little out of place, let us have them before next jug. Tickler. Assuredly-assuredly. Show Master Ambrose in. (Enter MASTER AMBROSE.) Shepherd. Hoo are ye, my fine little fellow? Come forward into the middle o' the room. Stretch out your right arm so— square your shouthers-haud up your head-take care o' your pronounciation-et perge, puer. (MASTER AMBROSE recites.) Though the place that once knew us will know us no more, Though no fond remembrance past scenes could restore, Our dearly-loved parlour we still must deplore, And remember the Old, while we drink to the New ! How oft in that parlour, so joyous and gay, The laurel was wreath'd with the clustering vine; Oh! changed are the days, it may truly be said, And enthralling the land of the brave and the free! That sceptre is broken-that faction is gone,— In scorn and derision we've seen it expire. |