Guy Davit was a sailor bold,
As ever hated France;
And tho' he never cared for gold,
He stuck to the main chance.
Susanna Sly was what they call
A servant of all work:
Made beds, baked pies, cleaned shoes, hemmed shirts
Blacked grates, and pickled pork.
Young Guy was born upon the Thames,
Off the Adelphi, Strand;
And so the water—do you see?—
Became his father-land.
'Twas there he served his time; and none
On "wessel," boat, or raft,
More honest was: altho' 'twas known
He loved a little _craft_.
He soon had weathered twenty-one;
Youth's cable then let slip,
He stepped out of his master's _boat_,
And his apprentice-_ship_.
Next year, the First of August come,
He trimmed his little boat,
And plied so well his oars, he won
Old Dogget's badge and coat.
'Twas then Susanna saw him first,
And first felt Cupid's dart.
The young toxophilite had hit
The bull's-eye of her heart.
A thousand hearts besides her own
With am'rous hopes beat higher,
It seemed as if Love, with his link,
Had set the Thames on fire.
So Sue set up her best mob cap
At Guy, to win his heart,
For some folks Love makes slatternly,
And some folks he makes _smart_.
But Guy was a conservative,
(The hottest of the nation,)
And so he wasn't going to yield
To any _mob's_ dictation.
Then Sue a tender letter wrote:
Guy didn't seem to heed it,
And not one word of answer sent;
For why?—he couldn't read it.
Then Susan offered him her hand:
Love made her accents falter,
"Thankee," says he; "but I prefers
A _cable_ to a _altar_."
For Guy of foreign shores had heard,
And wonders there that be;
He scarce could think such stories true,
So he went out to _sea_.
Poor Susan saw her sailor start
On board a ship of war;
Which raised her love to such a _pitch_,
She thought she'd be a _tar_.
So, casting off her female gear,
She joined the merry crew;
And round the world, thro' storm and strife
Did Sue her love pursue.
And she and Guy became sworn friends,
No hint of love e'er dropping,
Till, one day, Guy confessed he liked
A pretty maid at Wapping.
Then Susan home like lightning flew,
And so well played her part,
In likeness of a captain bold,
She won that fair maid's heart.
And, following her advantage up
(So dazzling is ambition!)
Our captain soon prevailed on her
To _altar_ her condition.
The wedding o'er, away she went,
To Guy the tidings carried,
And gave to him the newspaper
That told his love was married.
Then Guy a loaded pistol took:
"I'll kill myself!" he cried;
"Because I will not _side_ with _Sue_,
I'll be a _suicide_."
When Susan heard him say these words,
She at _her_ brains let fly:
And down, a corse, he sank, by Jove;
And down she sank—by Guy!
┌───────────────────────────────────────────────────────┬─────────────┐
│ SEPTEMBER. │ [1837.│
├──┬────────────────────────────────────────────────────┴─────────────┤
│ │Soft, simple innocent!—how well you show │
│ │ The gentle pastimes of your Cockney mates; │
│ │From him, who sparrows shoots with penny bow, │
│ │ To him who, armed with Manton, braves the fates! │
│ │Alack! it grieves me that this shoeless boy │
│ │Should bootless follow the delusive joy; │
│ │For e'en the salt of _attic_ wit doth fail │
│ │To catch a goose:—'and thereby hangs a tale.' │
├──┼────────────────────────────────────────────────────┬─────────────┤
│D.│ =Great Events and Odd Matters.= │ _Prognosti- │
│ │ │ fications._ │
├──┼────────────────────────────────────────────────────┼─────────────┤
│ │Passenger-shooting begins. Old ladies and young │ │
│ 1│ children deemed fair game by cab and omnibus │ │
│ │ drivers. │ │
│ │ │ Further- │
│ 2│New _Style_. Eleven days _stepped_ over. │ more, │
│ │ │ │
│ 3│ │ △ ☿ ♍ ♅ │
│ │ [Illustration]│ │
│ 4│_Bartlemy Fair._ "Fair is foul, and foul is fair," │ let a │
│ │ Dabble thro' the mud "and filthy │ │
│ │ air." │ │
│ 5│ │ needy man │
│ │ │ │
│ 6│The sun of Bartlemy is well-nigh set, and his │ ☉ ♊ │
│ │latest rays are dull as the Dutch metal that gilds │ │
│ 7│his gingerbread kings. The last fair was a foul │ essay to │
│ │concern--the lions roared in a saw-dust solitude │ │
│ 8│and the monkeys chatter'd to empty boxes.--"Just │ open the │
│ │going to begin" was a never-ending cry, because │ │
│ 9│the sights waited all day for want of see-ers--Mr. │ heart or │
│ │Merryman was sad, for people would not down with │ │
│10│the dumps; and though he cried "Walk up! only │ draw │
│ │twopence," he failed to "take his change out of │ │
│11│that." In vain King Richard offer'd his kingdom │ the │
│ │for a horse; there were only a few asses within │purse-strings│
│12│ear-ing. The sausages met with no stuffers, and │ │
│ │the dog-meat pies remained unbitten, though the │ ♌ ♒ ♀ ♓ │
│13│chimney- sweeps looked rabid at 'em. The hot │ │
│ │spiced nuts met with a cold reception; the baked │ of a │
│14│plum pudding was at no price current; and the │ │
│ │ginger beer, though well up, would not go down. │fair-weather │
│15│The pyramids of apples stood as unmoved as those │ │
│ │of Egypt; but the nuts alone looked happy, for │ friend, │
│16│the people gave them "none of their jaw." The │ │
│ │temperance societies have turned the table to a │ ☉ ☿ ♂ │
│17│T;--Men who have left off gin do not support Mr. │ │
│ │Gingell; and water-drinkers have no affection │ and shall │
│18│for fire-eaters. As to the gin temples, they │ │
│ │found their day pretty well over, so they blazed │ he not │
│19│at night, but their illuminated dials have made │ │
│ │the world suspect "what's o'clock." Even the │ forthwith │
│20│pickpockets failed of their harvest: for as the │ │
│ │people abandoned the knaves in spirit, they were │ experience │
│21│able to guard against the rogues in grain. │ │
│ │ │ ☉ ♂ │
│22│ │ │
│ │ │_a cool and_ │
│23│ │ │
│ │ │_frosty air_,│
│24│HARE HUNTING. │ │
│ │ │ ☊ ♏ ♅ ♍ │
│25│ │ │
│ │ │ sufficient │
│26│ │ │
│ │ │ ♃ ♄ ♊ │
│27│ │ │
│ │ │ to blight │
│28│ │ │
│ │ │ all the │
│29│QUARTER DAY. │ │
│ │ │ blossoms │
│30│The landlord seizes for his rent, but can't be │ of hope? │
│ │ called a cheat, │ │
│ │For though he takes your stools and chairs, he │ │
│ │ leaves you a _re-seat_. │ │
└──┴────────────────────────────────────────────────────┴─────────────┘
[Illustration:
SEPTEMBER.—Cockney Sportsmen.
]
THE FIRST OF SEPTEMBER.
A FRAGMENT.
"And that's why I don't like a flinty soil," said the farmer.
"Talking of flints," said the gentleman in the India-rubber coat, white
cords, and top-boots, "we'd a werry honcommon day's sport shooting, the
First of September ultimo: vich there vos me and Figgins, and Wiggins,
and Higgins, and young Apollo Belvidere Hicks, the poet, vot writes
werses in _Bell's Life_, and sends wery anonymous letters to the _Penny
Magazine_, and sings a werry good song now and then at the Adelphi
Shades—a werry slap-up party, I assure you. I writ an account of it at
the time, vich I sent to _Bell's Life_; but owing to a werry great press
of matter of tempory hinterest, vosn't hable to be printed. I've got the
journal in my pocket, and if you like, I'll read it."
"By all means," said a chorus of voices. Whereupon the gentleman in the
India-rubber coat, white cords, and top-boots, _douted_ his half-smoked
cigar, stowed it away in his silver-mounted shagreen case, and pulling
out an amateur-built note-book, made of half-a-dozen sheets of
blue-lined paper, evidently purloined from the ledger, read as follows:
"JOURNAL OF PROCEEDINGS ON THE FIRST OF SEPTEMBER ULT.
"_Edited by Jonathan Duggins, Esq._
"Up at six.—Told Mrs. D. I'd got wery pressing business at Woolwich, and
off to Old Fish Street, where a werry sporting breakfast, consisting of
jugged hare, partridge pie, tally-ho sauce, gunpowder tea, and-cætera,
vos laid out in Figgins's warehouse; as he didn't choose Mrs. F. and his
young hinfant family to know he vos a-goin to hexpose himself vith
fire-harms.— After a good blow-out, sallied forth vith our dogs and
guns, namely Mrs. Wiggins's French poodle, Miss Selina Higgins's real
Blenheim spaniel, young Hicks's ditto, Mrs. Figgins's pet bull-dog, and
my little thorough-bred tarrier; all vich had been smuggled to Figgins's
warehouse the night before, to perwent domestic disagreeables.—Got into
a Paddington bus at the Bank.—Row with Tiger, who hobjected to take the
dogs, unless paid hextra.—Hicks said we'd a rights to take 'em, and
quoted the hact.—Tiger said the hact only allowed parcels carried on the
lap.—Accordingly tied up the dogs in our pocket-handkerchiefs, and
carried them and the guns on our knees.—Got down at Paddington; and,
after glasses round, valked on till ve got into the fields, to a place
vich Higgins had baited vith corn and penny rolls every day for a month
past. Found a covey of birds feeding. Dogs wery eager, and barked
beautiful. Birds got up, and turned out to be pigeons. Debate as to
vether pigeons vos game or not. Hicks said they vos made game on by the
new hact. Fired accordingly, and half killed two or three, vich half
fell to the ground; but suddenly got up again and flew off. Reloaded,
and pigeons came round again. Let fly a second time, and tumbled two or
three more over, but didn't bag any. Tired at last, and turned in to the
_Dog and Partridge_ to get a snack. Landlord laughed, and asked how ve
vos hoff for tumblers. Didn't understand him, but got some waluable
hinformation about loading our guns; vich he strongly recommended mixing
the powder and shot well up together before putting into the barrel; and
showed Figgins how to charge his percussion; vich, being Figgins's first
attempt under the new system, he had made the mistake of putting a
charge of copper caps into the barrel instead of sticking von of 'em
atop of the touch-hole.—Left the _Dog and Partridge_, and took a
north-easterly direction, so as to have the adwantage of the vind on our
backs. Dogs getting wery riotous, and refusing to answer to Figgins's
vhistle, vich had unfortunately got a pea in it.—Getting over an edge
into a field, Hicks's gun haccidentally hexploded, and shot Wiggins
behind; and my gun going off hunexpectedly at the same moment, singed
avay von of my viskers and blinded von of my heyes.—Carried Wiggins back
to the inn: dressed his wound, and rubbed my heye with cherry brandy and
my visker vith bear's grease.—Sent poor W. home by a short stage, and
resumed our sport.—Heard some pheasants crowing by the side of a
plantation. Resolved to stop their cockadoodledooing, so set off at a
jog-trot. Passing thro' a field of bone manure, the dogs unfortunately
set to work upon the bones, and we couldn't get 'em to go a step further
at no price. Got vithin gun-shot of two of the birds, vich Higgins said
they vos two game cocks: but Hicks, who had often been to Vestminster
Pit, said no sitch thing; as game cocks had got short square tails, and
smooth necks, and long military spurs; and these had got long curly
tails, and necks all over hair, and scarce any spurs at all. Shot at 'em
as pheasants, and believe we killed 'em both; but, hearing some orrid
screams come out of the plantation immediately hafter, ve all took to
our 'eels and ran avay vithout stopping to pick either of 'em up.—After
running about two miles, Hicks called out to stop, as he had hobserved a
covey of wild ducks feeding on a pond by the road side. Got behind a
haystack and shot at the ducks, vich svam avay hunder the trees. Figgins
wolunteered to scramble down the bank, and hook out the dead uns vith
the but-hend of his gun. Unfortunately bank failed, and poor F. tumbled
up to his neck in the pit. Made a rope of our pocket hankerchiefs, got
it round his neck, and dragged him to the _Dog and Doublet_, vere ve had
him put to bed, and dried. Werry sleepy with the hair and hexercise, so
after dinner took a nap a-piece.—Woke by the landlord coming in to know
if ve vos the gentlemen as had shot the hunfortunate nurse-maid and
child in Mr. Smithville's plantation. Swore ve knew nothing about it,
and vile the landlord vas gone to deliver our message, got out of the
back vindow, and ran avay across the fields. At the end of a mile, came
suddenly upon a strange sort of bird, vich Hicks declared to be the
cock-of-the-woods. Sneaked behind him and killed him. Turned out to be a
peacock. Took to our heels again, as ve saw the lord of the manor and
two of his servants vith bludgeons coming down the gravel valk towards
us. Found it getting late, so agreed to shoot our vay home. Didn't know
vere ve vos, but kept going on.—At last got to a sort of plantation,
vere ve saw a great many birds perching about. Gave 'em a broadside, and
brought down several. Loaded again, and killed another brace. Thought ve
should make a good day's vork of it at last, and was preparing to charge
again, ven two of the new police came and took us up in the name of the
Zolorogical Society, in whose gardens it seems ve had been shooting.
Handed off to the Public Hoffice, and werry heavily fined, and werry
sewerely reprimanded by the sitting magistrate.—Coming away, met by the
landlord of the _Dog and Doublet_, who charged us with running off
without paying our shot; and Mr. Smithville, who accused us of
man-slaughtering his nurse-maid and child; and, their wounds not having
been declared immortal, ve vos sent to spend the night in prison—and
thus ended my last First of September."
[Illustration:
OCTOBER.—Brewing.
]
┌─────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────┐
│ [Illustration] OCTOBER. │
├──┬──────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────┤
│ │ Hail! honest Toby, who all grumbling hates, │
│ │ Who quaffs his ale, and cheerful pays his rates; │
│ │ Whose faith is fixed and firm,—in stout October,— │
│ │ Who scorns dissent,—except, from being sober; │
│ │ Who swears the cause is best upheld by drinking, │
│ │ Since he who takes to water, takes to thinking; │
│ │ Who designates small beer a public scandal, │
│ │ And knows no heresy but using the pump handle. │
├──┼─────────────────────────────────────────────────────┬────────────┤
│D.│ =Great Events and Odd Matters.= │_Prognosti- │
│ │ │fications._ │
├──┼─────────────────────────────────────────────────────┼────────────┤
│ │ │ │
│ 1│ DIALOGUE. │ Now │
│ │ │ │
│ 2│_Customer_: What can I have, waiter?—_Waiter_: What │ lest, │
│ │ would you like, Sir? │ │
│ │_C._ Can you give me a chop, or a steak?—_W._ No, │ │
│ │ Sir. │ │
│ 3│_C._ Any cold meat?—_W._ No. │peradventure│
│ │_C._ Crust of bread and cheese?—_W._ No. │ │
│ 4│_C._ Why, you've nothing at all in the house, then, │ ♉ ☍ ♉ ♀ │
│ │ it seems?—_W._ Oh! yes we have. │ │
│ │_C._ What?—_W._ AN EXECUTION! │ │
│ 5│ │ │
│ │ │ it should │
│ 6│ │ │
│ │ │ hereby │
│ 7│ │ │
│ │ │seem to the │
│ 8│ │ │
│ │ │undiscerning│
│ 9│A mob of _Johnnies_ lay rough hands on the Spinning │ │
│ │ _Jennies_, 1779. │ │
│ │ │ multitude, │
│10│_Spenser_ died, succeeded by _Coats_. (Query, │ │
│ │ _Romeo_?) │ │
│ │ │ │
│11│ │ ♀ ♃ ⊕ │
│ │ │ │
│12│Day _breaks_. ——Poor fellow! when, and where? │that I have │
│ │ I pity him, I do declare; │ │
│13│ Unlike the surly wight, who said, │ deserted, │
│ │ When rous'd up from his downy bed, │ │
│14│ "What is't to me, if broke or no? │ ♒ ☿ ♊ ♎ │
│ │ He owes _me_ nothing." (_Vide_ JOE.) │ │
│15│ And Mrs. Day,—his loving mate,— │ the │
│ │ 'Twill break her heart, as sure as │ │
│ │ fate. │ │
│16│ Oh, no! she treats it very _light_;— │ Celestial │
│ │ She's run away with Mr. Night. │ │
│17│ Should Mrs. Day, though, meet her │ Science, │
│ │ _sun_, │ │
│ │ Then Mr. Night will be undone; │ │
│18│ For by some magic,—strange to say,— │ ☿ ♑ │
│ │ This _sun_ will turn _Night_ into │ │
│ │ _Day._ │ │
│19│ │ and proved │
│ │ │ │
│20│ │an unworthy │
│ │ │ │
│21│ │ successor │
│ │ │ │
│22│ │ ♎ ♐ ☌ ♀ │
│ │ │ │
│23│ │ of the │
│ │ │ │
│24│ │defunct and │
│ │ │ │
│25│ST. CRISPIN. All _Soles_ Day. _Cobblers'_ Holiday. No│ doughty │
│ │ business done in Downing Street. │ │
│ │ │ │
│26│ │ MOORE, │
│ │ │ │
│27│ │ ☊ ♓ ♑ ♌ │
│ │ │ │
│28│ [Illustration] │ I do here │
│ │ │ present │
│29│ │ │
│ │ │ one │
│30│ │ │
│ │ │ important │
│31│Brewing ends. _Malt_-brun. Sir Matthew _Hale_. │prediction, │
└──┴─────────────────────────────────────────────────────┴────────────┘