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if you only look at him; his nose turns up; his mouth is drawn into wrinkles, so as to show his teeth; in short, he has altogether the look of a dog far gone in misanthropy, and totally sick of the world. When he walks, he has his tail curled up so tight, that it seems to lift his feet from the ground; and he seldom makes use of more than three legs at a time, keeping the other drawn up as a reserve. This last wretch is called Beauty!
These dogs are full of elegant ailments unknown to vulgar dogs; and are petted and nursed by Lady Lillycraft with the tenderest kindness. They are pampered and fed with delicacies by their fellow minion, the page; but their stomachs are often weak and out of order, so that they cannot eat; though I have now and then seen the page give them a mischievous pinch, or thwack over the head, when his mistress was not by. They have cushions for their express use, on which they lie before the fire, and yet are apt to shiver and moan, if there is the least draught of air. When any one enters the room, they make a most tyrannical barking that is absolutely deafening. They are insolent to all the other dogs of the establishment. There is a noble stag-hound, a great favourite of the squire's, who is a privileged visitor to the parlour; but the moment he makes his appearance, these intruders fly at him with furious rage; and I have admired the sovereign indifference and contempt with which he seems to look down upon his puny assailants. When her ladyship drives out, these dogs are generally, carried with her to take the air; when they look out of each window of the carriage, and bark at all vulgar pedestrian dogs. These dogs are a continual source of misery to the household; as they are always in the way, they every now and then get their toes trod on, and then there is a yelping on their part, and a lamentation on the part of their mistress, that fills the room with clamour and confusion.
Lastly, there is her ladyship's waiting-woman, Mrs. Hannah, a prim, pragmatical old maiden, whose every word
and look smacks of verjuice. She is the very opposite to her mistress, for the one hates, and the other loves, all mankind. How they first came together I cannot imagine; but they have lived together for many years; and the abigail's temper being tart and encroaching, and her ladyship's easy and yielding, the former has got the complete upper hand, and tyrannizes over the good lady in secret. Lady Lillycraft now and then complains of it, in great confidence, to her friends, but hushes up the subject immediately, if Mrs. Hannah makes her appearance. Indeed, she has been so accustomed to be attended by her, that she thinks she could not do without her; and the one great study of her life is, to keep Mrs. Hannah in good humour by little presents and kindnesses.
Master Simon has a most devout abhorrence, mingled with awe, for this ancient spinster. He told me the other day, in a whisper, that she was a cursed brimstone-in fact, he added another epithet, which I would not repeat for the world. I have remarked, however, that he is always extremely civil to her when they meet.
VII.-CONTEST BETWEEN THE EYES AND THE NOSE.
BETWEEN Nose and Eyes a strange contest arose,
So the Tongue was the lawyer, and argued the cause
So famed for his talent in nicely discerning. "In behalf of the Nose, it will quickly appear,
And your Lordship," he said, "will undoubtedly find, That the Nose has had spectacles always in wear, Which amounts to possession time out of mind.”
Then, holding the spectacles up to the Court
"Your Lordship observes they are made with a straddle, As wide as the ridge of the Nose is; in short, Design'd to sit close to it, just like a saddle. "Again, would your Lordship a moment suppose— 'Tis a case that has happen'd, and may be again— That the visage or countenance had not a Nose,
Pray, who would, or who could wear spectacles then? "On the whole, it appears, and my argument shows,
With a reasoning the Court will never condemn,
VIII. THE NEWCASTLE APOTHECARY.
A MAN in many a country town we know
Professing openly with Death to wrestle;
Arm'd with a mortar and a pestle.
Yet some affirm, no enemies they are;
Though the apothecary fights with Death,
A member of this Esculapian line,
His fame full six miles round the country ran,
Benjamin Bolus, though in trade,
Which oftentimes will genius fetter) Read works of fancy, it is said,
And cultivated the Belles-lettres.
And why should this be thought so odd?
Apollo patronizes physic.
Bolus loved verse; and took so much delight in't, That his prescriptions he resolved to write in't: No opportunity he e'er let pass
Of writing the directions on his labels, In dapper couplets-like Gay's Fables, Or rather like the lines in Hudibras.
Apothecary's verse !—and where's the treason?
And on the label of the stuff
Which one should think was clear enough
Are given by gentlemen who teach to dance;
The servant let him in with dismal face,
And not his master.
"Well, how's the patient?" Bolus said.
"Well-how ?-What then?-Speak out, you dunce!"
Why then," says John," we shook him once."