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Noctes AMBROSIANÆ. No. LIII.
ON THE LATE French REVOLUTION. No. I.
A SCENE ON THE “ Costa FIRME,”
ON THE Military Events OF THE LATE FRENCH REVOLUTION,
Dr Parr AND HIS CONTEMPORARIES,
THE LOCAL GOVERNMENT OF THE METROPOLIS,
PassagES FROM THE DIARY OF A LATE PHYSICIAN. Chap. VI.

Tue TURNED HEAD,

THE WIFE,
Thomson's Birth-PLACE. BY DELTA,
THE LAST SONG OF SAPPHO. By Mrs HEMANS,
The PENITENT'S RETURN. BY THE SAME,
REMEMBRANCE. BY A MODERN PYTHAGOREAN,
PARLIAMENTARY SAYINGS AND Doings,
L'Envoy,

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EDINBURGH:
WILLIAM BLACKWOOD, NO. 45, GEORGE STREET, EDINBURGH;

AND T. CADELL, STRAND, LONDON.
To whom Communications (post paid) may be addressed.
SOLD ALSO BY ALL THE BOOKSELLERS OF THE UNITED KINGDOM.

PRINTED BY BALLANTYNE AND CO, EDINBURGH.

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ΧΡΗ ΔΕΝ ΣΥΜΠΟΣΙΩ ΚΥΛΙΚΩΝ ΠΕΡΙΝΙΣΣΟΜΕΝΑΩΝ
HAEA KSTIAAONTA KAOHMENON OINOIIOTAZEIN.

Σ.

PHOC. ap. Ath.
[This is a distich by wise old Phocylides,
An ancient who wrote crabbed Greek in no silly days ;
Meaning, “ 'Tis right for GOOD WINEBIBBING PEOPLE,
NOT TO LET THE JUG PACE ROUND THE BOARD LIKE A CRIPPLE;
BUT GAILY TO CHAT WHILE DISCUSSING THEIR TIPPLE.”
An excellent rule of the hearty old cock’tis-
And a very fit motto to put to our Noctes.)

C. N. ap. Ambr.

SCENE- The Snuggery. Time, seven o'clock.-Members present

North, SHEPHERD, O'BRONTE.

SHEPHERD.

The wee bit cozzie octagon Snuggery metamorphosed, I declare, intil a perfeck paragon o' a leebrary, wi' glitterin' brass-wired rosewood shelves, through whilk the bricht-bunn' byeuckies glint splendid as sunbeams, yet saftened and subdued somehow or ither, doun to a specie o moonlicht, sic as lonely shepherd on the hill lifts up his hauns to admire alang the fringed edges o' a fleecy mass o'clouds, when the orb is just upon the verra comin' out again intil the blue, and the entire nicht beautifies itsell up, like a leevin' being, to rehail the stainless apparition !

NORTH.

Homeric!

SHEPHERD.

NORTH.

Ay, Homer was a shepherd like mysell, I'se warrant him, afore he lost his een, in lieu o' whilk, Apollo, the Great Shepherd o' a' the Flocks o' the Sky, gied him—and wasna't a glorious recompense, sir ?—for a' the rest o’ his days, the gift o' immortal sang.

'Tis fitted up, James, after a fancy-plan of our poor, dear, old, facete, feeling, ingenious, and most original friend-Johnny Ballantyne.

Johnny Ballantyne!
VOL. XXIX, NO. CLXXV.

SHEPHERD,

A

NORTH.

Methinks I see him-his slight slender figure restless with a spirit that knew no rest—his face so suddenly changeful in its expression from what a stranger might have thought habitual gravity, into what his friends knew to be native there-glee irrepressible and irresistible—the very madness of mirth, James, in which the fine ether of animal spirits seemed to respire the breath of genius, and to shed through the room, or the open air, a contagion of cheerfulness, against which no heart was proof, however sullen, and po features could stand, however grim--but still all the company, Canters and Covenanters inclusive, relaxed and thawed into murmurs of merriment, even as the strong spring sunshine sends a-singing the bleak frozen moorstreams, till all the wilderness is alive with music.

SHEPHERD.

NORTH.

He was indeed a canty cretur-a delichtfu' companion.

I hear his voice this moment within my imagination, as distinct as if it were speaking. 'Twas exceedingly pleasant.

SHEPHERD.

It was that. Verra like Sandy's-only a hue merrier, and a few beats in the minute faster. Oh, sir! hoo he wou'd hae enjoyed the Noctes, and hoo the Noctes woud hae enjoyed him!

In the midst of our merriment, James, often has that thought come over me like a cloud.

NORTH.

SHEPHERD.

What'n a lauch!

NORTH.

Soul-and-heart-felt!

SHEPHERD.

Mony a strange story fell down stane-dead when his tongue grew mute. Thoosands o' curious, na, unaccountable anecdotes, ceased to be, the day his een were closed; for he telt them, sir, as ye ken, wi' his een mair than his lips; and his verra hawns spak, when he snapped his forefinger and his thoomb, or wi' the hail five spread out—and he had what I ca' an elegant hawn' o' fine fingers, as maist wutty men hae-manually illustrated his soobjeck, till the words gaed aff, murmuring like bees frae the tips, and then Johnny was quate again for a minute or sae, till some ither freak o' a fancy came athwart his genie, and instantly loupt intil look, lauch, or speech -or rather a' the three thegither in ane, while Sir Walter himsell keckled on his chair, and leanin' wi thae extraordinari chowks o' his, that aften seem to me amaist as expressive as his pile o' forehead, hoo wou'd he fix the

grey illumination o' his een on his freen Johnny, and ca' him by that familiar name, and by the sympathy o' that maist capawcious o' a' sowles, set him clean mad-richt doon widd a'thegither-till really, sir, he got untholeably divertin', and folk compleen'd o pains in their sides, and sat wi' the tears rinnin' doon their cheeks, praying him for gudeness to haud his tongue, for that gin he didna, somebody or ither wou'd be fa'in doon in a fit, and be carried out dead.

NORTH.

A truce, my dear James, to all such dreams. Yet pleasant, though mournful to the soul, is the memory of joys that are past! And never, methinks, do we feel the truth of that beautiful sentiment more tenderly, than when dimly passeth before our eyes, along the mirror of imagination,- for I agree with thee, thou sagest of Shepherds, that when the heart is finely touched by some emotion from the past, the mirror of imagination and of memory is one and the sanje, held up as if in moonlight by the hands of Love or Friendship,-never feel we the truth of that beautiful sentiment more tenderly, I repeat, James, than when we suddenly re-behold there the image—the shadow of some face that when alive wore a smile of perpetual sunshine-somewhat saddened now, though cheerful still, in the momentary vision-and then, as we continue to gaze upon it, undergoing sad obscuration, and soon disappearing in total eclipse.

SHEPHERD.

ye

Enter MR AMBROSE, Mons. Cadet, KING PEPIN, Sir David GaM, TAPPI.

TOURIE, and the Pech, with Tea, Coffee, Toast, Muffins, &c. When a body has had an early dinner, what a glorious meals the FoureOORS ! Hooly-hooly, lads. Aye-that's richt, Tappy-just set doon the muffins there close to ma nieve; oh! but they seem sappy! Sir Dawvit, be baronet or be ye knicht, you've a fine ee for the balancin' o' a table, or ye had never clashed doon on that spat thae creeshy crampets. Pippin, you're a dextrous cretur, wi' your ashets o' wat and dry toast. And oh! my man Pechy! but you've a stoot back and a strong arm to deposit wi' sic an air o' majesty that twa-quartern loaf fresh frae the bakers, and steamin' as sweet's a bank o' vi'lets after a shower.--Mr Awmrose, ye needna bile ony mair eggs—for though they're no verra big anes, yet whatever the size, sax is ma number—thae bit chickens maun hae belanged to a late cleckin'But wbare's the Roond ? Aye-aye-Prince o' Picardy! I see ye bearin' him frae the bit side-boardie.—Noo attend to Mr North, Mr Awmrose, and dinna mind me-tak tent o' Mr North, sir-and see that he wants for naethingfor I discern by the glegness o' the een o' him, that he's yaup-yaup, yaup -and's sharpenin' his teeth wi' the fork, till you hear them raspin' like a mower whettin' his scythe.

ΝΟ

TH,

Ambrose, bring yon.

AMBROSE. Here they are, sir.

[Placing them before Mr Hogg.

SHEPHERD
Angels and ministers o' grace defend us-what the deevil's thae ?

NORTH.
What think ye, James ?

SHEPHERD. Hauns ! Human hauns! Preserved human hauns! Pickled human hauns ! The preserved and pickled human hauns o' a Christian !

Well-what although?

NORTH,

SHEPHERD.

Weel ! what altho' ? Are they a present frae Dr Knox, or his freen Hare? Aiblins the verra hauns o’ Burke himsell! What throttlers !

NORTH.

Why, they are throttlers, James--but they never belonged in life to any

of the gang.

SHEPHERD.

That's a great relief-But excuse me, sir, for haudin' ma nose-for I fear they're stinkin'.

NORTH.

Sweet, I assure you, James, as the downy fist of a virgin, yet warm from her own bosom. Bear-paws from Scandinavia—a Christmas-present from my intrepid friend Lloyd, now Schall-king of the Frozen Forests. Let's pree them.

[The SHEPHERD takes one Paw, and North another, and they both

begin to masticate.

SHEPHERD.

AMBO.

Exquisite !

SHEPHERD,

Are ye at the taes, sir ?

NORTH.

I am.

SHEPHERD.

Mines is picket as clean's an ivory kaim for the tap-knot o’a bit bonnie lassie. Noo for the pawms.

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