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“Sir,” said I, looking with amaze- | did but my duty at a painful moment; ment at the old gentleman,“ surely, and 'tis matter of wonder to me that surely, there is some mistake in your men talk still,

and glorify such a tristatement. Permit me to observe that fling matter. By our Lady's grace, in the action of the first of June took the fair kingdom of France, there place five hundred years after your are scores of thousands of men, gentle time, and

and simple, who would do as I did. “Perhaps I am confusing my Does not every sentinel at his post, dates,” said the old gentleman, with does not every archer in the front of a faint blush., “You say I am mix- battle, brave it, and die where his ing up the transactions of my time captain bids him? Who am I that on earth with the story of my success- I should be chosen out of all France ors? It may be so. We take no to be an example of fortitude ? I count of a few centuries more or less braved no tortures, though these I in our dwelling by the darkling Sty- trust I would have endured with a gian river. Of late, there came good heart. I was subject to threats amongst us a good knight, Messire only. Who was the Roman knight de Cambronne, who fought against of whom the Latin clerk Horatius you English in the country of Flan- tells?ders, being captain of the guard of “A Latin clerk? Faith, I forget my Lord the King of France, in a my Latin,” says

Mr. Brummell. famous battle where you English “Ask the parson here.". would have been utterly routed but “Messire Regulus, I remember, for the succor of the Prussian hea- was his name. Taken prisoner by then. This Messire de Cambronne, the Saracens, he gave his knightly when bidden to yield by you of Eng- word, and was permitted to go seek a land, answered this, 'The guard dies, ransom among his own people. Being but never surrenders ; ' and fought a unable to raise the sum that was a long time afterwards, as became a fitting ransom for such a knight, he good knight. In our wars with you returned to Afric, and cheerfully subof England it may have pleased the mitted to the tortures which the PayFates to give you the greater suc- nims inflicted. And 'tis said he took cess, but on our side, also, there has leave of his friends as gayly as though been no lack of brave deeds performed he were going to a village kermes, or by brave men."

riding to his garden house in the sub“King Edward may have been the urb of the city.” victor, sir, as being the strongest, “Great, good, glorious man!” but you are the hero of the siege of cried Mr. Sterne, very much moved. Calais !" cried Mr. Sterne. Your “Let me embrace that gallant hand, story is sacred, and your name has been and bedew it with my tears ! As long blessed for five hundred years. Where- as honor lasts thy name shall be reever men speak of patriotism and sac-membered. See this dew-drop twinrifice, Eustace of Saint Pierre shall be kling on my cheek! 'Tis the sparkling beloved and remembered. I prostrate tribute that Sensibility pays to Valor. myself before the bare feet

which stood Though in my life and practice I may before King. Edward. What collar türn from Virtue, believe me, I never of chivalry is to be compared to that have ceased to honor her ! Ah, Virglorious order which you wear ? tue! Ah, Sensibility! Oh " Think, sir, how out of the myriad Here Mr. Sterne was interrupted millions of our race, you, and some bý a monk of the Order of St. Franfew more, stand forth as exemplars cis, who stepped into the room, and of duty and honor. Fortunati nimi- begged us all to take a pinch of his um !"

famous old rappee. I suppose the snuff “Sir," said the old gentleman, “Il was very pungent, for, with a great

certain poor

start, I woke up; and now perceived were happy ; but sleepless with aches, that I must have been dreaming al- and agues, and rheumatism of old age. together. “Dessein's” of nowadays " The gentleman gave me brandy and is not the "Dessein's” which Mr. water,” she said, her old voice shakSterne, and Mr. Brummell, and I rec-ing with rapture at the thought. I ollect in the good old times. The never had a great love for Queen town of Calais has bought the old Charlotte, but I like her better now hotel, and “Dessein” has gone over from what this old lady told me. The to “ Quillacq's.” And I was there Queen, who loved snuff herself, has yesterday. And I remember old dili- left a legacy of snuff gences, and old postilions in pigtails houses; and, in her watchful nights, and jack-boots, who were once as this old woman takes a pinch of alive as I am, and whose cracking Queen Charlotte's snuff," and it do whips I have heard in the midnight comfort me, sir, that it do!Pulmany and many a time. Now, where veris exigui munus. Here is a forlorn are they? Behold! they have been aged creature, shaking with palsy, ferried over Styx, and have passed with no soul among the great strugaway into limbo.

gling multitude of mankind to care I'wonder what time does my boat for her, not quite trampled out of life, go? Ah! Here comes the waiter but past and forgotten in the rush, bringing me my little bill.

made a little happy, and soothed in her hours of unrest by this penny legacy. Let me think as I write. (The

next month's sermon, thank goodON SOME CARP AT SANS ness! is safe to press.) This disSOUCI.

course will appear at the season when

I have read that wassail-bowls make We have lately made the acquaint- their appearance; at the season of ance of an old lady of ninety, who pantomime, turkey, and sausages, has passed the last twenty-five years plum-puddings, jollifications

for of her old life in a great metropolitan schoolboys; Christmas bills, and remiestablishment, the workhouse, name- niscences or less sad and ly, of the parish of Saint Lazarus. sweet for elders. If we oldsters are Stay - twenty three or four years not merry, we shall be having a semago, she came out once, and thought blance of merriment. We shall see to earn a little money by hop-picking; the young folks laughing round the but being overworked, and having to holly-bush. We shall pass the bottle lie out at night, she got a palsy which round cosily as we sit by the fire. has incapacitated her from all further That old thing will have a sort of feslabor, and has caused her poor old tival too. Beef, beer, and pudding limbs to shake ever since.

will be served to her for that day also. An illustration of that dismal prov- Christmas falls on a Thursday. Frierb which tells us how poverty makes day is the workhouse day for coming us acquainted with strange bed-fel- out. Mary, remember that old Goody lows, this poor old shaking body has Twoshoes has her invitation for Frito lay herself down every night in her day, 26th December! Ninety is she, work-house bed by the side of some poor old soul? Ah! what a bonny other old woman with whom she may face to catch under a mistletoe ! “Yes, or may not agree. She herself can't ninety, sir,” she says, “and my be a very pleasant bed-fellow, poor mother was a hundred, and my grandthing! with her shaking old limbs mother was a hundred and two." and cold feet. She lies awake a deal Herself ninety, her mother a hunof the night, to be sure, not thinking dred, her grandmother a hundred of happy old times, for hers never I and two? What a queer calculation!


Ninety! Very good, granny: you | es to pay your respects to his good were born, then, in 1772.

lady, the injured Queen of England, Your mother, we will say, was at "Brandenburg House; and you twenty-seven when you were born, remember your mother told you and was born therefore in 1745. how she was taken to see the Scotch

Your grandmother was thirty when lords executed at the Tower. And her daughter was born, and was born as for your grandmother, she was born therefore in 1715.

five years after the battle of MalplaWe will begin with the present quet, she was; where her poor father granny first. My good old creature, was killed, fighting like a bold Briton you can't of course remember, but for the Queen. With the help of a that little gentleman for whom your “Wade's Chronology," I can make mother was laundress in the Temple out ever so queer a history for you, was the ingenious Mr. Goldsmith, my poor old body, and a pedigree as author of a “ History of England,

, authentic as many in the peerage“ The Vicar of Wakefield," and books. many diverting pieces. You were Peerage-books and pedigrees? brought almost an infant to his cham- What does she know about them? bers, in Brick Court, and he gave you Battles and victories, treasons, kings, some sugar-candy, for the doctor was and beheadings, literary gentlemen, always good to children. That gentle and the like, what have they ever been man who well-nigh smothered you by to her? Granny, did you ever hear of sitting down on you as you lay in a General Wolfe? Your mother may chair asleep was the learned Mr. S. bave seen him embark, and your Johnson, whose history of “Rasselas” father may have carried a musket you have never read, my poor soul ; under him. Your grandmother may and whose tragedy of " Irene” I have cried huzza for Marlborough; don't believe any man in these king- but what is the Prince Duke to you, doms ever perused. That tipsy and did you ever so much as hear Scotch gentleman who used to come tell of his name? How many hunto the chambers sometimes, and at dred or thousand of years had that whom everybody laughed, wrote a toad lived who was in the coal at the more amusing book than any of the defunct Exhibition ? - and yet he scholars, your Mr. Burke and your was not a bit better informed than Mr. Johnson, and your Doctor Gold- toads seven or eight hundred years smith. Your father often took him younger. home in a chair to his lodgings; and “Don't talk to me your nonsense has done as much for Parson Sterne about Exhibitions, and Prince Dukes, in Bond Street, the famous wit. Of and toads in coals, or coals in toads, course, my good creature, you remem or what is it?” says granny, ber the Gordon Riots, and crying No know there was a good Queen CharPopery before Mr. Langdale's house, lotte, for she left me snuff; and it the Popish distiller's and that bonny comforts me of a night when I lie fire of my Lord Mansfield's books in awake." Bloomsbury Square?. Bless us, what To me there is something very a heap of illuminations you have touching in the notion of that little seen! For the glorious victory over pinch of comfort doled out to granny, the Americans at Breed's Hill; for and gratefully inhaled by her in the the peace in 1814, and the beautiful darkness. Don't you remember what Chinese bridge in St. James's Park; traditions there used to be of chests for the coronation of his Majesty, of plate, bulses of diamonds, laces of whom you recollect as Prince of inestimable value, sent out of the Wales, Goody, don't you? Yes; and country privately by the old Queen to you went in a procession of laundress- enrich certain relations in M-ckl-nb-rg


but they

Str-l-tz? Not all the treasure went. (my Lord Orford, as you justly say), Non omnis moritur. A poor old pal- old Sarah Marlborough, and little sied thing at midnight is made happy Mr. Pope, of Twitnam, died in the sometimes as she lifts her shaking old year of your birth? What a wretched hand to her nose. Gliding noiselessly memory you have! What? haven't among the beds where lie the poor they a library, and the commonest creatures huddled in their cheerless books of reference at the old convent dormitory, I fancy an old ghost with a of Saint Lazarus, where you dwell ?” snuff-box that does not creak. “There, “ Convent of Saint Lazarus, Prince Goody, take of my rappee. You will William, Dr. Swift, Atossa, and not sneeze, and I shall not say 'God Mr. Pope, of Twitnam! What is bless you.?

But you will think the gentleman talking about?” says kindly of old Queen Charlotte, won't old Goody, with a “ Ho! ho ! and you ? Ah! I had a many troubles, a laugh like an old parrot you a many troubles. I was a prisoner know they live to be as old as almost so much as you are. I had Methuselah, parrots do, and a parto eat boiled mutton every day: rot of a hundred is comparrotively entre nous, I abominated it. But I young (ho! ho! ho!). Yes, and never complained. I swallowed it. I likewise carps live to an immense made the best of a hard life. We old age. Some which Frederick the have all our burdens to bear. But Great fed at Sans Souci are there hark! I hear the cock-crow, and snuff now, with great humps of blue the morning air.” And with this the mould on their old backs; and they royal ghost vanishes up the chimney could tell all sorts of queer stories,

- if there be a chimney in that dis- if they chose to speak mal harem, where poor old Twoshoes are very silent, carps are of their and her companions pass their nights nature peu communicatives. Oh! what

their dreary nights, their rest has been thy long life, old Goody, less nights, their cold long nights, but a dole of bread and water and a shared in what glum companionship, perch on a cage; a dreary swim round illumined by what a feeble taper ! and round a Lethe of a pond? What

“Did I understand you, my good are Rossbach or Jena to those mouldy Twoshoes, to say that your mother ones, and do they know it is a grandwas seven and twenty years old when child of England who brings bread you were born, and that she married to feed them? your esteemed father when she herself No! Those Sans Souci carps may was twenty-five ? 1745, then, was the live to be a thousand years old, and date of your dear mother's birth. I have nothing to tell but that one day dare say her father was absent in the is like another; and the history of Low Countries, with his Royal High- friend Goody Twoshoes has not much ness the Duke of Cumberland, under more variety than theirs. Hard lawhom he had the honor of carrying bor, hard fare, hard bed, numbing a halberd at the famous engagement cold all night, and gnawing hunger of Fontenoy - or if not there, he most days. That is her lot. Is it may have been at Preston Pans, lawful in my prayers to say, “Thank under General Sir John Cope, when heaven, I am not as one of these"? the wild Highlanders broke through If I were eighty, would I like to feel all the laws of discipline, and the the hunger always gnawing, gņawEnglish lines; and, being on the spot, ing? to have to get up and make a did he see the famous ghost which bow when Mr. Bumble the beadle didn't appear to Colonel Gardiner of entered the common room? to have the Dragoons ? My good creature, to listen to Miss Prim, who came to is it possible you don't remember that give me her ideas of the next world ? Doctor Swift, Sir Robert Walpole If I were eighty, I own I should not

like to have to sleep with another tragedy is acted over. Yesterday, in gentleman of my own age, gouty, a the street, I saw a pair of eyes so like bad sleeper, kicking in his old dreams, two which used to brighten at my and snoring; to march down my vale coming once, that the whole past of years at word of command, accom- came back as I walked lonely, in the modating my tottering old steps to rush of the Strand, and I was young those of the other prisoners in my again in the midst of joys and sorrows, dingy, hopeless old gang; to hold out alike sweet and sad, alike sacred and a trembling hand for a sickly pittance fondly remembered. of gruel, and say, "Thank you, If I tell a tale out of school, will ma'm,” to Miss Prim, when she has any harm come to my old school-girl ? done reading_her sermon. John ! Once, a lady gave her a half-sovereign, when Goody Twoshoes comes next which was a source of great pain and Friday, I desire she may not be dis- anxiety to Goody Twoshoes. She turbed by theological controversies. sewed it away in her old stays someYou have a very fair voice, and I where, thinking here at least was a heard you and the maids singing a safe investment — (vestis -- a vest hymn very sweetly the other night, an investment; - pardon me, thou and was thankful that our humble poor old thing, but I cannot help the household should be in such harmony. pleasantry). And what do you think? Poor old Twoshoes is so old and Another pensionnaire of the estabtoothless and quaky, that she can't lishment cut the coin out of Goody's sing a bit; but don't be giving your stays -- an old woman who went upon self airs over her, because she can't two crutches ! Faugh, the old witch! sing and you can. Make her com- What? Violence amongst

these fortable at our kitchen hearth. Set toothless, tottering, trembling, feeble that old kettle to sing by our hob. ones? Robbery amongst the penniWarm her old stomach with nut- less? Dogs coming and snatching brown ale and a toast laid in the fire. Lazarus's crumbs out of his lap? Ah, Be kind to the poor old school-girl of how indignant Goody was she ninety, who has had leave to come out told the story! To that pond at for a day of Christmas holiday. Shall Potsdam where the carps live for there be many more Christmases for hundreds of hundreds of years, with thee? Think of the ninety she has hunches of blue mould on their back, seen already; the fourscore and ten I dare say the little Prince and Princold, cheerless, nipping New Years ! of Preussen-Britannien

If you were in her place, would you sometimes with crumbs and cakes to like to have a remembrance of better feed the mouldy ones. early days, when you were young, may have goggled from beneath the and happy, and loving, perhaps; or weeds at Napoleon's jack-boots: they would you prefer to have no past on have seen Frederick's lean shank's which your mind could rest? About reflected in their pool; and perhaps the year 1788, Goody, were your Monsieur de Voltaire has fed them cheeks rosy, and your eyes bright, and now, for a crumb of biscuit they and did some young fellow in powder will fight, push, hustle, rob, squabble, and a pigtail look in them? We may gobble, relapsing into their tranquilgrow old, but to us some stories never lity when the ignoble struggle is over. are old. On a sudden they rise up, Sans souci, indeed! It is mighty well not dead, but living - not forgotten, writing “Sans souci” over the gate ; but freshly remembered. The eyes but where is the gate through which gleam on us as they used to do. The care has not slipped ? She perches dear voice thrills in our hearts. The on the shoulders of the sentry in the rapture of the meeting, the terrible, sentry-box: she whispers the porter terrible parting, again and again the sleeping in his arm-chair: she glides




Those eyes

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