wanton assault and battery. Old folks wondered what things would come to; that finishers of the law would have more work was quite clear!
The row at length was extinguished on the appearance, about ten o'clock, of the municipal authorities, in darkling procession, guided by the leading lights of the sergeants, two and two abreast (although not "trumpeters !"), each bearing a lantern radiant with a couple of candles. Again, is the "dask" crowded with the honourable, the reverend, the learned. The well-powdered head of the TownClerk towers amid the full blaze of "fours in the pound!" He unrolls the scroll of fate. The names of the successful competitors are announced by him rather with the voice of one having authority than of a mere scribe. Each fortunate rogue bustles up in front, and receives (with a rax) from the Provost's own hand the much prized bookthe honour acknowledged by a bow, bespeaking more gratefulness than gracefulness. Many, of course, are disappointed, but they soon forget their sorrow in the pastimes of the holiday week. So much of sketchy reminiscence of "auld langsyne." Who is insensible to the feelings which such retrospection suggests?—
"Be it a weakness, it deserves some praise,
We love the play-place of our early days;
The scene is touching, and the heart is stone
That feels not at that sight, and feels at none.
The wall on which we tried our graving skill
The very name we carved subsisting still;
The bench on which we sat, while deep employed, Though mangled, hacked, and hewed, yet not destroyed— The little ones, unbuttoned, glowing hot
Playing our games, and on the very spot,
As happy as we once
The pleasing spectacle at once excites
Such recollection of our own delights,
That, viewing it, we seem almost to obtain
Our innocent, sweet, simple years again.
This fond attachment to the well-known place,
Whence first we started into life's long race,
Maintains its hold with such unfailing sway,
We feel it e'en in age and at our latest day."
FORTH from his mansion—just at ten o'clock-
Struts the learned Banker, like a turkey cock,
Burly and big behold him sail along,
Wit in his wink, and wisdom on his tongue!
Through Silver Street he steers for Golden Square,
Soon Diamond Street proclaims his presence there!
Then Union Street must feel, in all its stones,
The heavy burden of his beef and bones!
Here-let us mark him as-with look profound
And solemn gait, he clears the granite ground
Right to the Bank-the scene of all his labour,
Where Willie G- was once his drouthy neighbour;
Famed Greece and Rome may, jointly, claim his nose ;
His cheek is red-the cause you may suppose ;
His mouth is but a so so perforation,
Through which to dole the frequent long oration !
His eye-though never meant to face a battle-
Would grace a calf, or some such other cattle.
Now for his dress :-Unbutton'd, his surtout
Exposes fully to convenient view
A goodly corporation, a priori,
To balance matters, a posteriori.
The knowing cocking of his glossy castor
Proclaims to all the sapience of its master;
'Tis smartly worn agee, in guise so jemmy,
And looks as if 'twould say " How d'ye do, demme."
If hats like heads could speak, 'twould say, moreover,
"O! what a precious noddle I do cover!"
At times, you know, he has a social trick.
In seeking chumship with a walking stick;
Athwart his shoulder when, anon, it lies,
He grasps it like a trooper, falchion-wise,
And seems about to charge, with all his chivalry,
On all who dare to show the slightest devilry.
But if a pendant posture rather please-
The cane inclines just forty-five degrees
To terra firma; you then would lay a wager
Its owner was a rather uppish gauger;
Meet him, the silent greeting of his eye
And measured bow announce him who but I?
Or if he choose to play the waggish shaver,
A nod and wink, say, "dang it! no palaver;"
Talk of the times-he shakes his head, and then
What does he? why, he shaketh it again!
His finger laid, right gently, on his nose,
Conveys to all how very much he knows;
And, eke could tell; but catch him, if you can!
He knows-ay does he !-yes!-he knows his man!
Behold him at the window of the Bank,
Just where the coalmen used to sit in rank
And file, to catch a lucky job, or else
To cram with partans, badderlocks, and delse!
Ah! how august appears the Banker's mien,
Through the transparent window often seen;
With what an air he takes a pinch of snuff,
Of which his noddle needs a quantum suff,
To clear the murky vapours of his brain,
And send them, dropping, through his nasal drain ;
Forth from his vest he takes the polished box,
Then gives the lid some peremptory knocks;
A moment pauses-with an upward look
In solemn musing-just as if he took
Time to consider what he was about—
With all great men 'tis usual, no doubt—
Then from the fragrant dust he takes a doze,
The thumb taps on the brink, the snuff up goes
Into the very garret of his gnomon ;
At brown rappee the Banker yields to no man :
And if a few stray grains the deed betray,
These same few grains he deftly puffs away,
Hast thou e'er seen him at a sale of books?
How very, very knowing were his looks;
How solemnly he said, “
a penny more!" How gravely turned the purchased volume o'er : "A rare edition this, I know it well,
If known by others, it would surely sell
For ten times more-but half-a-crown is plenty
For such a work--prized but by cognoscenti."
Off to his library with it he'll steal,
As magpies sometimes silver spoons conceal.
In sooth, he is a man of various knowledge,
His very clerks must now be bred at college:
In parts and learning he may truly pass
For a Scotch cousin of Sir Hudibras
Macenas, he of teachers, fiddlers, painters,
Professors, parsons, lecturers, precentors.
But to conclude, lest we should overstrain,
His whole deportment says, in language plain,
"Such men as I, you know, are rather rare,
So, if you please, you'll just as well take care.”
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