264 North. THE GLASGOW GANDER'S GHOST. "Doom'd for a certain time to walk the night, Tickler. "But that it is forbid To tell the secrets of his prison-house, He could a tale unfold." North. That "eternal blazon," Tickler, must be reserved for another Noctes. A description of his Purgatory by the Ghost of the Glasgow Gander will eclipse Dante's. Shepherd. Wha saw't? North. People in general. Shepherd. Ay, that's the way wi' a' supernatural apparitions. I defy you to trace ony ane amang the best accredited o' them a' up to its first gloom or glimmer afore individual een -but it's neither the less true nor the less fearsome on that account and that you'll alloo even to your ain loupin heart, the first time you forgather wi' a ghaist -in a wood, or on a muir, or glowerin out upon you frae the embrasure o' an auld castle, or risin up as silent as the mist, in the verra heart o' the thunner o' some lanesome waterfa'. North. Some, 'tis said, have seen it, as if escaped from the spit-trussed, yet endowed with locomotive powerTickler. Hissing like a steam-engine. North. Others, gashed with a thousand wounds, and dripping with gore and gravy Tickler. "In somnos ecce! ante oculos mæstissimus ANSER, North. "Hei mihi! qualis erat! Quantum mutatus ab illo Tickler. "O Lux Dardania! Spes O Fidissima Teucrûm! Quæ caussa indigna serenos North. "Ille nihil; nec me querentem vana, moratur, Tickler. "Heu! fuge, NATE DEA!” Shepherd. What! Does the Ghost of the Gander gabble Greek? Tickler. The story runs, James, that "Even in his ashes lives his wonted fire," and that he has been seen by the watchman, as he “walks his lonely round," impotently pursuing, up and down the Gusedubs, some dingy Dulcinea desired of yore, who, with loud shrieks, shuns his embraces, and finally, in desperation, plunges for shelter in among a drove of ducks, merry in the moonlight on the Peat-Bog, into whose sullen depths is afraid to plunge the hot and hissing Tarquin, who bitterly knows that fat cannot float without feathers North. He sticks to Terra Firma-"larding the lean earth as he moves along." Shepherd. What seems he noo in the een o' the Bubbly? North. The Bubbly sees through him-and wages warfare on the Gander's Ghost. But you may imagine the Bubbly's astonishment on finding the Gander evaporate beneath his tread as he leaps upon him, after having chased him three times round Nelson's Pillar.1 Tickler. Methinks I see the Ghost of the Gander, "At the close of the day, when the city is still, And mortals the sweets of forgetfulness prove," waddling along that noble square, on the summit of Blythswood Hill,' and moralising to himself on the destinies of his species 1 In Glasgow. 266 AND ENDEAVOURING TO REPLUME HIMSELF. Shepherd. Wushin, a' in vain, that they wad but tak a lesson frae his fate! A' in vain, sirs; for even let a spectre come frae the sewer to forewarn them o' their doom, yet wunna they keep their tongue within their bills, but wull keep gapin, and hissin, and gabblin on till the end o' the chapter, which, aiblins, consists o' sic a catastrophe at Awmbrose's, sir, as will be remembered to the latest posterity, and, translated intil a thousan' languages, be perused by all people that on earth do dwell, lang after the Anglo-Scotch, and the ScotoEnglish, have been baith dead tongues. Example's lost on a' Fules-feathered and unfeathered-and that's aye been an argument wi' me-excepp in cases o' verra rare culprits— again' capital punishments. North. 'Tis said the Gawpus of the Ghost Shepherd. You mean the Ghost of the Gawpus— The Black Cook of this establishment, James, is afraid to sleep by herselfShepherd. Canna she get Tappytoorie, or the Pech Tickler. Hush-hush-James. North. You know all feathers are among her perquisitesand she told King Pepin, that, t'other night, on lifting up the lid of the chest where that golden fleece reposed, among the plumage of inferior fowls, lo, the Ghost of the Gander, spurred on by instinctive passion, abhorrent of his nudity, insanely struggling to replume himself Shepherd. Haw-haw-haw!-and hopping about in the chest, amaist as roomy as a Minister's Girnel,1 like a chiel risin half-drunk in the mornin, and wha havin gotten ane o' his legs intil the breeks, fin's it a'thegither ayont his capacity to get in the ither, but keeps stoiterin and stacherin, and tumblin, outower the floor frae wa' to wa', for a lang while, dour on an impossible achievement, and feenally fa'in backarts on a sack, wi' nae mair howp o' maisterin his velveteens in this warld, than in the next o' insurin his salvation. Tickler. O thou Visionary! North. Poor soul! in her situation, such an adventure- North. Too true, James. In her fright she let fall the lid -nor has she since had courage, his majesty informs me, to uplift it. 1 Girnel-a large chest for holding meal. THE TERROR OF HIS NAME. 267 Tickler. The Ghost of the Gander will be smothered. He had better have kept in the sewer. North. In future ages, James, generations of men seeing the Ghost of the Glasgow Gander, will vainly believe that in the nineteenth century all Ganders were of his size Shepherd. Ay-that there were giants in our days. Tickler. He will cause great disturbance in Ornithology. Shepherd. Amang the tribe Anseres. Compared wi' him, the geese o' the three thousandth 'ill dwinnle doun to dyucks. North. In some future Demonology, the philosopher will endeavour to reduce him to ordinary dimensions, nay, even to prove him—all in vain-to be a mere phantoin of the imagination. Shepherd. Yet, sirs, mithers and nourices wull hush the babbies on their breists wi' the cry o' "the Ganner! - the Ganner!" "gin you wunna lie quate, ye vile yaummerin imp, I'll gie ye to the Ghost o' the great Glasgow Ganner!" Na -tunes 'ill be made to eemage forth his gabble, by the Webers o' unborn time-and Theatres be thick wi' folk, as trees wi' craws, to hear, on the hundredth nicht o' its performance, a maist unearthly piece o' music frae a multitudinous orchestra, ca'd the "Ganner's Chorus ! Tickler. I am sorry he was slaughtered. He would have been an incomparable chimney-sweep. Shepherd. To have admitted him, whatna flue! Tickler. Come, North, cut the subject short with a song. Give us the Ghost of the Gander-a Tale of Terror—after the fashion of Mat Lewis. Poor Mat! he was a man of geniusnow how forgotten! North. I'm a little hoarse- Tickler. That's always the affectation of you great singers. North. Pray, Tickler, which, to your ear, is the more musical of the two, the gabble of a Gander, or the braying of a Jackass? Shepherd. Dinna answer him, Mr Tickler, for he's only wushin to get aff the sang. Tickler. 'Twould be bad, boorish manners, James, not to give an answer to a civil question. I prefer the Gander by sunrise from the sea-the Jackass, when that luminary is setting behind the mountains. Shepherd. What luminary? 268 BRAYING-ASS AND MULE. Tickler. Neither the Gander nor the Jackass, James, but the Sun. Elated by the glowing charms of the rosy morn, my soul delights in the gabble of geese on a common— -but as I wander pensive at to-fall of the day, then, for love or money, your Jackass, with ears, legs, lungs, and jaws, all "stepping westwards," and enacting, in a solo, for his own enjoyment, the Vicar of Bray, worthy to be a Bishop. Shepherd. What say ye to a Mule ? North. The young American, in his most amusing volumes, A Year in Spain,1 has exhausted the subject. Shepherd. What's your wull, sir? North. "I hate a mule," quoth he, "most thoroughly, for there is something abortive in everything it does, even to its very bray. An ass, on the contrary, has something hearty and whole-souled about it. Jack begins his bray with a modest whistle, rising gradually to the top of his powers, like the progressive eloquence of a well-adjusted oration, and then as gradually declining to a natural conclusion; but the mule commences with a voice like thunder, and then, as if sorry for what he has done, he stops like a bully when throttled in the midst of a threat, or a clown who has begun a fine speech, and has not courage to finish it.” Shepherd. Haw! haw! haw! That's capital, man. North. As Alexander of Macedon said of old, that had he not been Alexander, he would have wished to be Diogenes, so, we may presume, had the hero of Glasgow not been a Gander, he would have chosen to be a Tickler. Mule or Jackass ? Shepherd. Ay-that is the question. Each- Shepherd. Day about. North. On Tuesday, beginning his bray with a modest whistle, and throughout his performance just such an original as the lively American has drawn the animated picture of―on Friday, like a bully throttled in the midst of a threat Tickler. And cudgeled along the Trongate North. Till his back was like the Edinburgh Review. 1 A Year in Spain, which was successfully republished in England, was written by the late Alexander Slidell (afterwards Mackenzie) of the U. S. Navy-American Editor. |