Eighty-three pieces in verse and prose are the _modicum_ of
entertainment in this delightful little work. Of course we cannot
enumerate a quarter of their titles, but only mention a few of the most
striking. Among the prose is "A Quarter of an Hour too soon," by the
author of "The Hour too many," in the last Forget-Me-Not. Our favourite
story is _The Red Man_, by the Modern Pythagorean of Blackwood, which we
quote almost entire:--
"It was at the hour of nine, in an August evening, that a solitary
horseman arrived at the Black Swan, a country inn, about nine miles from
the town of Leicester. He was mounted on a large, fiery charger, as
black as jet, and had behind him a portmanteau attached to the croup of
his saddle. A black travelling cloak, which not only covered his own
person, but the greater part of his steed, was thrown around him. On his
head he wore a broad-brimmed hat, with an uncommonly low crown. His legs
were cased in top-boots, to which were attached spurs of an
extraordinary length; and in his hands he carried a whip, with a thong
three yards long, and a handle which might have levelled Goliath
himself. On arriving at the inn, he calmly dismounted, and called upon
the ostler by name. 'Frank!' said he, 'take my horse to the stable; rub
him down thoroughly; and, when he is well cooled, step in and let me
know.' And, taking hold of his portmanteau, he entered the kitchen,
followed by the obsequious landlord, who had come out a minute before,
on hearing of his arrival. There were several persons present, engaged
in nearly the same occupation. At one side of the fire sat the village
schoolmaster--a thin, pale, peak-nosed little man, with a powdered
periwig, terminating behind in a long queue, and an expression of
self-conceit strongly depicted upon his countenance. He was amusing
himself with a pipe, from which he threw forth volumes of smoke with an
air of great satisfaction. Opposite to him sat the parson of the
parish--a fat, bald-headed personage, dressed in a rusty suit of black,
and having his shoes adorned with immense silver buckles. Between these
two characters sat the exciseman, with a pipe in one hand, and a tankard
in the other. To complete the group, nothing is wanting but to mention
the landlady, a plump, rosy dame of thirty-five, who was seated by the
schoolmaster's side, apparently listening to some sage remarks which
that little gentleman was throwing out for her edification. But to
return to the stranger. No sooner had he entered the kitchen, followed
by the landlord, than the eyes of the company were directed upon him.
His hat was so broad in the brim, his spurs were so long, his stature so
great, and his face so totally hid by the collar of his immense black
cloak, that he instantly attracted the attention of every person
present. His voice, when he desired the master of the house to help him
off with his mantle, was likewise so harsh, that they all heard it with
sudden curiosity. Nor did this abate when the cloak was removed, and his
hat laid aside. A tall, athletic, red-haired man, of the middle age, was
then made manifest. He had on a red frock coat, a red vest, and a red
neckcloth; nay, his gloves were red! What was more extraordinary, when
the overalls which covered his thighs were unbuttoned, it was discovered
that his small-clothes were red likewise. 'All red!' ejaculated the
parson almost involuntarily. 'As you say, the gentleman is all red!'
added the schoolmaster, with his characteristic flippancy. He was
checked by a look from the landlady. His remark, however, caught the
stranger's ear, and he turned round upon him with a penetrating glance.
The schoolmaster tried to smoke it off bravely. It would not do: he felt
the power of that look, and was reduced to almost immediate silence.
"'Now, bring me your boot-jack,' said the horseman. The boot-jack was
brought, and the boots pulled off. To the astonishment of the company, a
pair of red stockings were brought into view. The landlord shrugged his
shoulders, the exciseman did the same, the landlady shook her head, the
parson exclaimed, 'All red!' as before, and the schoolmaster would have
repeated it, but he had not yet recovered from the rebuke. 'Faith, this
is odd!' observed the host. 'Rather odd,' said the stranger, seating
himself between the parson and the exciseman. The landlord was
confounded, and did not know what to think of the matter. After sitting
for a few moments, the new-comer requested the host to hand him a
night-cap, which he would find in his hat. He did so: it was a red
worsted one; and he put it upon his head. Here the exciseman broke
silence, by ejaculating, 'Red again!' The landlady gave him an
admonitory knock on the elbow: it was too late. The stranger heard his
remark, and regarded him with one of those piercing glances for which
his fiery eye seemed so remarkable. 'All red!' murmured the parson once
more. 'Yes, Doctor Poundtext, the gentleman, as you say, is all red,'
re-echoed the schoolmaster, who by this time had recovered his
self-possession. He would have gone on, but the landlady gave him a
fresh admonition, by trampling upon his toes; and her husband winked in
token of silence.
"As in the case of the exciseman, the warnings were too late. 'Now,
landlord,' said the stranger, after he had been seated a minute, 'may I
trouble you to get me a pipe and a can of your best Burton? But, first
of all, open my portmanteau, and give me out my slippers.' The host did
as he was desired, and produced a pair of red morocco slippers. Here an
involuntary exclamation broke out from the company. It began with the
parson, and was taken up by the schoolmaster, the exciseman, the
landlady, and the landlord, in succession. 'More red!' proceeded from
every lip, with different degrees of loudness. The landlord's was the
least loud, the schoolmaster's the loudest of all. 'I suppose,
gentlemen,' said the stranger, 'you were remarking upon my
slippers.'--'Eh--yes! we were just saying that they were red,' replied
the schoolmaster. 'And pray,' demanded the other, as he raised the pipe
to his mouth, 'did you never before see a pair of red slippers?' This
question staggered the respondent; he said nothing, but looked to the
parson for assistance. 'But you are all red,' observed the latter,
taking a full draught from a foaming tankard which he held in his hand.
'And you are all black,' said the other, as he withdrew the pipe from
his mouth, and emitted a copious puff of tobacco smoke. 'The hat that
covers your numskull is black, your beard is black, your coat is black,
your vest is black, your small-clothes, your stockings, your shoes, all
are black. In a word, Doctor Poundtext, you are----' 'What am I, sir?'
said the parson, bursting with rage. 'Ay, what is he, sir?' rejoined the
schoolmaster. 'He is a black coat,' said the stranger, with a
contemptuous sneer, 'and you are a pedagogue.' This sentence was
followed by a profound calm."
The stranger goes to the stable, and returns.
"The appearance of the Red Man again acted like a spell on the voices of
the company. The parson was silent, and by a natural consequence his
echo, the schoolmaster, was silent also; none of the others felt
disposed to say any thing. The meeting was like an assemblage of
quakers. ...
"'Who can this man be?' 'What does he want here?' 'Where is he from, and
whither is he bound?' Such were the inquiries which occupied every mind.
Had the object of their curiosity been a brown man, a black man, or even
a green man, there would have been nothing extraordinary; and he might
have entered the inn and departed from it as unquestioned as before he
came. But to be a Red Man! There was in this something so startling that
the lookers-on were beside themselves with amazement. The first to break
this strange silence was the parson. 'Sir,' said he, 'we have been
thinking that you are----' 'That I am a conjurer, a French spy, a
travelling packman, or something of the sort,' observed the stranger.
Doctor Poundtext started back on his chair, and well he might; for these
words, which the Man in Red had spoken, were the very ones he himself
was about to utter. 'Who are you, sir?' resumed he, in manifest
perturbation; 'what is your name?' 'My name,' replied the other, 'is
Reid.' 'And where, in heaven's name, were you born?' demanded the
astonished parson. 'I was born on the borders of the Red Sea.'
"Doctor Poundtext had not another word to say. The schoolmaster was
equally astounded, and withdrew the pipe from his mouth; that of the
exciseman dropped to the ground: the landlord groaned aloud, and his
spouse held up her hands in mingled astonishment and awe. After giving
them this last piece of information, the strange man arose from his
seat, broke his pipe in pieces, and pitched the fragments into the fire;
then, throwing his long cloak carelessly over his shoulders, putting his
hat upon his head, and loading himself with his boots, his whip, and his
portmanteau, he desired the landlord to show him to his bed, and left
the kitchen, after smiling sarcastically to its inmates, and giving them
a familiar and unceremonious nod.
"His disappearance was the signal for fresh alarm in the minds of those
left behind. Not a word was said till the return of the innkeeper, who
in a short time descended from the bedroom overhead, to which he had
conducted his guest. On re-entering the kitchen, he was encountered by a
volley of interrogations. The parson, the schoolmaster, the exciseman,
and his own wife, questioned him over and over again. 'Who was the Man
in Red?--he must have seen him before--he must have heard of him--in a
word, he must know something about him.' The host protested 'that he
never beheld the stranger till that hour: it was the first time he had
made his appearance at the Black Swan, and so help him God, it should be
the last!' 'Why don't you turn him out?' exclaimed the exciseman. 'If
you think you are able to do it, you are heartily welcome,' replied the
landlord; 'for my part, I have no notion of coming to close quarters
with the shank of his whip, or his great, red, sledge hammer fist.'
"This was an irresistible argument, and the proposer of forcible
ejectment said no more upon the subject. At this time the party could
hear the noise of heavy footsteps above them. They were those of the Red
Man, and sounded with slow and measured tread. They listened for a
quarter of an hour longer, in expectation that they would cease. There
was no pause: the steps continued, and seemed to indicate that the
person was amusing himself by walking up and down the room. It would be
impossible to describe the multiplicity of feelings which agitated the
minds of the company. Fear, surprise, anger, and curiosity, ruled them
by turns and kept them incessantly upon the rack. There was something
mysterious in the visiter who had just left them--something which they
could not fathom--something unaccountable. 'Who could he be?' This was
the question that each put to the other, but no one could give any thing
like a rational answer. Meanwhile the evening wore on apace, and though
the bell of the parish church hard by sounded the tenth hour, no one
seemed inclined to take the hint to depart. Even the parson heard it
without regard, to such a pitch was his curiosity excited. About this
time also the sky, which had hitherto been tolerably clear, began to be
overclouded. Distant peals of thunder were heard; and thick sultry drops
of rain pattered at intervals against the casement of the inn: every
thing seemed to indicate a tempestuous evening. But the storm which
threatened to rage without was unnoticed.--Though the drops fell
heavily; though gleams of lightning flashed by, followed by the report
of distant thunder, and the winds began to hiss and whistle among the
trees of the neighbouring cemetery, yet all these external signs of
elementary tumult were as nothing to the deep, solemn footsteps of the
Red Man. There seemed to be no end to his walking. An hour had he paced
up and down the chamber without the least interval of repose, and he was
still engaged in this occupation as at first. In this there was
something incredibly mysterious; and the party below, notwithstanding
their numbers, felt a vague and indescribable dread beginning to creep
over them. The more they reflected upon the character of the stranger,
the more unnatural did it appear. The redness of his hair and
complexion, and, still more the fiery hue of his garment, struck them
with astonishment. But this was little to the freezing and benumbing
glance of his eye, the strange tones of his voice, and his miraculous
birth on the borders of the Red Sea.
"There was now no longer any smoking in the kitchen. The subjects which
occupied their minds were of too engrossing a nature to be treated with
levity; and they drew their chairs closer, with a sort of irresistible
and instinctive attraction. While these things were going on, the
bandy-legged ostler entered, in manifest alarm. He came to inform his
master that the stranger's horse had gone mad, and was kicking and
tearing at every thing around, as if he would break his manger in
pieces. Here a loud neighing and rushing were heard in the stable. 'Ay,
there he goes,' continued he, 'I believe the devil is in the beast, if
he is not the old enemy himself. Ods, master, if you saw his eyes! they
are like--' 'What are they like?' demanded the landlord. 'Ay, what are
they like?' exclaimed the rest with equal impatience. 'Ods, if they
a'n't like burning coals!' ejaculated the ostler, trembling from head to
foot, and sqeezing himself in among the others, on a chair which stood
hard by. His information threw fresh alarm over the company, and they
were more agitated and confused than ever.
"During the whole of this time the sound of walking over-head never
ceased for one moment. The heavy tread was unabated: there was not the
least interval of repose, nor could a pendulum have been more regular in
its motions. Had there been any relaxation, any pause, any increase or
any diminution of rapidity in the footsteps, they would have been
endurable; but there was no such thing; the same deadening monotonous,
stupifying sound continued, like clock-work, to operate incessantly
above their heads. Nor was there any abatement of the storm without; the
wind blowing among the trees of the cemetery in a sepulchral moan; the
rain beating against the panes of glass with the impetuous loudness of
hail; and lightning and thunder flashing and pealing at brief intervals
through the murky firmament. The noise of the elements was indeed
frightful; and it was heightened by the voice of the sable steed, like
that of a spirit of darkness; but the whole, as we have just hinted, was
as nothing to the deep, solemn, mysterious treading of the Red Man."
The party argue themselves into the belief that he is indeed the enemy
of mankind.
"'If more proof is wanting,' resumed the parson, after a pause, 'only
look to his dress. What Christian would think of travelling about the
country in red? It is a type of the hell-fire from which he is sprung.'
'Did you observe his hair hanging down his back like a bunch of
carrots?' asked the exciseman. 'Such a diabolical glance in his eye!'
said the schoolmaster. 'Such a voice!' added the landlord: 'it is like
the sound of a cracked clarionet.' 'His feet are not cloven,' observed
the landlady. 'No matter,' exclaimed the landlord, 'the devil, when he
chooses, can have as good legs as his neighbours.' 'Better than some of
them,' quoth the lady, looking peevishly at the lower limbs of her
husband. Meanwhile the incessant treading continued unabated, although
two long hours had passed since its commencement. There was not the
slightest cessation to the sound, while out of doors the storm raged
with violence, and in the midst of it the hideous neighing and stamping
of the black horse were heard with pre-eminent loudness. At this time
the fire of the kitchen began to burn low; the sparkling blaze was gone,
and in its stead nothing but a dead red lustre emanated from the grate.
One candle had just expired, having burned down to the socket; of the
one which remained, the unsnuffed wick was nearly three inches in
length, black and crooked at the point, and standing like a ruined tower
amid an envelopement of sickly yellow flame; while around the fire's
equally decaying lustre sat the frightened _coterie_, narrowing their
circle as its brilliancy faded away, and eyeing each other like
apparitions amidst the increasing gloom.
"At this time the clock of the steeple struck the hour of midnight, and
the tread of the stranger suddenly ceased. There was a pause for some
minutes--afterwards a rustling--then a noise as of something drawn along
the floor of his room. In a moment thereafter his door opened; then it
shut with violence, and heavy footsteps were heard trampling down the
stair. The inmates of the kitchen shook with alarm as the tread came
nearer. They expected every moment to behold the Red Man enter, and
stand before them in his native character. The landlady fainted
outright: the exciseman followed her example: the landlord gasped in an
agony of terror: and the schoolmaster uttered a pious ejaculation for
the behoof of his soul. Dr. Poundtext was the only one who preserved any
degree of composure. He managed, in a trembling voice, to call out
'Avaunt, Satan! I exorcise thee from hence to the bottom of the Red
Sea!' 'I am going, as fast as I can,' said the stranger, as he passed
the kitchen-door on his way to the open air. His voice aroused the whole
conclave from their stupor. They started up, and by a simultaneous
effort rushed to the window. There they beheld the tall figure of a man,
enveloped in a black cloak, walking across the yard on his way to the
stable. He had on a broad-brimmed, low-crowned hat, top-boots, with
enormous spurs, and carried a gigantic whip in one hand, and a
portmanteau in the other. He entered the stable, remained there about
three minutes, and came out leading forth his fiery steed thoroughly
accoutred. In the twinkling of an eye he got upon his back, waved his
hand to the company, who were surveying him through the window, and
clapping spurs to his charger, galloped off furiously, with a hideous
and unnatural laugh, through the midst of the storm.
"On going up stairs to the room which the devil had honoured with his
presence, the landlord found that his infernal majesty had helped
himself to every thing he could lay his hands upon, having broken into
his desk and carried off twenty-five guineas of king's money, a ten
pound Bank of England note, and sundry articles, such as seals,
snuff-boxes, &c. Since that time he has not been seen in these quarters,
and if he should, he will do well to beware of Doctor Poundtext, who is
a civil magistrate as well as a minister, and who, instead of exorcising
him to the bottom of the Red Sea, may perhaps exorcise him to the
interior of Leicester gaol, to await his trial before the judges of the
midland circuit."
Next is the Omen, by Mr. Galt, a powerful sketch. Affixed to St.
Feinah's Tree, a Legend of Loch Neagh, we notice the signature of an
esteemed correspondent, (M.L.B.) whose taste and ingenuity entitle her
to high rank among the contributors to the present work. Kemp, the
Bandit, by Delta, is an interesting tale; Life and Shade, a Portuguese
Sketch, by Mrs. M. Baillie, is in her best narrative style; and Seeking
the Houdy, by the Ettrick Shepherd, is in his happiest familiar vein.
The curiosity of the volume, and indeed, the only poetical contribution
we have room to notice, is the following lines of Lord Byron, written in
his boyhood, to "Mary," (Mrs. Musters,) about a year before her
marriage:--
Adieu to sweet Mary for ever;
From her I must quickly depart;
Though the Fates us from each other sever,
Still her image will dwell in my heart.
The flame that within my heart burns,
Is unlike what in lovers hearts glows;
The love which for Mary I feel,
Is far purer than Cupid bestows.
I wish not your peace to disturb,
I wish not your joys to molest,
Mistake not my passion for Love,
'Tis your friendship alone I request.
Not ten thousand lovers could feel
The friendship my bosom contains;
It will ever within my heart dwell,
While the warm blood flows through my veins.
May the ruler of heaven look down,
And my Mary from evil defend;
Mny she ne'er know adversity's frown,
May her happiness ne'er have an end.
Once more, my sweet Mary, adieu;
Farewell; I with anguish repeat,
For ever I'll think upon you,
While this heart in my bosom shall beat.
The Editor has subjoined a note, explaining his reason for printing
these "schoolboy rhymes," which, of course, is not for their literary
merit; still, in comparison with many of Lord Byron's after productions,
what the present want of head, others lack of heart, and this is a home
truth which his warmest admirers must acknowledge.
The Illustrations are varied and interesting. One of them--the Death of
the Dove, engraved by W. Finden, from a picture by T. Stewardson, is
remarkably expressive. The Ghaut, by E. Finden, after W. Daniell, is an
exquisite Oriental scene. The Frontispiece, Wilkie's Spanish Princess,
is finely engraved by R. Greaves; and Mr. H. Le Keux has done ample
justice to the Plâce de Jeanne d'Arc, Rouen, from a picturesque drawing,
by S. Prout: the lights and shadows being very effectively managed. But
we must be chary of our room, as we have other claimants at hand.
* * * * *