The English Spy: An Original Work Characteristic, Satirical, And Humorous. C. M. Westmacott

lady mother of the black doll is quite pale in the face with sorrow for the loss of her child. Mine host of the vine looks as sour as his own grapes, before they were fresh gilded; and spruce master Pigtail, the tobacconist, complains that his large roll of real Virginia has been chopped into short cut. But these are by far the least tormenting jokes. That good-humoured Cad, Jem Miller, finds the honorary distinction of private tutor added to his name. Dame——s, an irreproachable spinster of forty, discovers that of Mr. Probe, man-midwife, appended to her own. Mr. Primefit, the Eton Stultz, is changed into Botch, the cobbler. Diodorus Drowsy, D.D., of Windsor, is re-christened Diggory Drenchall, common brewer; and the amiable Mrs. Margaret Sweet, the Eton pastry-cook and confectioner, finds her name united in bands of brass with Mr. Benjamin Bittertart, the baker. The celebrated Christopher Caustic, Esq., surgeon, has the mortification to find his Esculapian dormitory decorated with the sign-board of Mr. Slaughtercalf, a German butcher; while his handsome brass pestle and mortar, with the gilt Galen's head annexed, have been waggishly transferred to the house of some Eton Dickey Gossip, barber and dentist. Mr. Index, the bookseller, changes names with old Frank Finis, the sexton. The elegant door plate of Miss Caroline Cypher, spinster, is placed on the right side of Nicodemus

      Number, B.A., and fellow of Eton, with this note annexed: "New rule of Addition, according to Cocker." Old Amen, the parish clerk, is united to Miss Bridget Silence, the pew opener; and Theophilus White, M.D. changes place with Mr. Sable, the undertaker. But we shall become too grave if we proceed deeper with this subject. There is no end to the whimsical alterations and ludicrous changes that take place upon these occasions, when scarce a sign or door plate in Eton escapes some pantomimic transformation.*

      * Representations to the masters or authorities are scarcely

       ever necessary to redress these whimsical grievances, as the

       injured parties are always remunerated. The next day the

       spoils and trophies are arranged in due form in a certain

       snug sanctum sanctorum, the cellar of a favorite inn, well

       known by the name of the Oppidan's Museum; for a view of which see the sketch made on the spot by my friend Bob Transit. Here the merry wags are to be found in council, holding a court of claims, to which all the tradesmen who have suffered any loss are successively summoned; and after pointing out from among the motley collection the article they claim, and the price it originally cost, they are handsomely remunerated, or the sign replaced. The good people of Eton generally choose the former, as it not only enable them to sport a new sign, but to put a little profit upon the cost price of the old one. The trophies thus acquired are then packed up in hampers, and despatched to Oxford, where they are on similar occasions not unfrequently displayed, or hung up, in lieu of some well-known sign, such as the Mitre, &c. which has been removed during the night.

      The following jeu-d'esprits issued upon the interference of the authorities at the conclusion of the last Election. The "dance of thirty sovereigns" is an allusion to the fine imposed, which was given to the poor.

      A Ladder Dance.

       A moving golden Fish.

       The Fall of Grapes, during a heavy storm.

       The Cock'd Hat Combat.

       A March to the Workhouse.

       Bird-cage Duett, by Messrs. C***** and B****.

       A public Breakfast, with a dance by thirty sovereigns.

       Glee—"When shall we three meet again."

       The Barber's Hornpipe, by the learned D****.

       The Turk's Head Revel.

       Saint Christopher's March.

       The Committee in Danger.

       The Cloisters, Eton

       HERBERT STOCKHORE, THE MONTEM POET LAUREATE. A SKETCH FROM THE LIFE,

      As he appeared in the Montent Procession of May, 1823.

      BY BERNARD BLACKMANTLE, AND ROBERT TRANSIT

      Bending beneath a weight of time,

       And crippled as his Montem ode,

       We found the humble son of rhyme

       Busy beside the public road.

       Nor laurel'd wreath or harp had he,

       To deck his brow or touch the note

       That wakes the soul to sympathy.

       His face was piteous as his coat,

       'Twas motley strange; e'en nature's self,

       In wild, eccentric, playful mood,

       Had, for her pastime, form'd the elf,

       A being scarcely understood—

       Half idiot, harmless; yet a gleam

       Of sense, and whim, and shrewdness, broke

       The current of his wildest stream;

       And pity sigh'd as madness spoke.

      Lavater, Lawrence, Camper, here

       Philosophy new light had caught:

       Judged by your doctrines 'twould appear

       The facial line denoted thought.{1}

       But say, what system e'er shall trace

       By scalp or visage mental worth?

       The ideot's form, the maniac's face,

       Are shared alike by all on earth.

       "Comparative Anatomy—"

       If, Stockhore, 'twas to thee apply'd,

       'Twould set the doubting Gallist free,

       And Spurzheim's idle tales deride.

       But hence with visionary scheme,

       Though Bell, or Abernethy, write;

       Be Herbert Stockhore all my theme,

       The laureate's praises I indite;

       He erst who sung in Montem's praise,

       And, Thespis like, from out his cart

       Recited his extempore lays,

       On Eton's sons, in costume smart,

       Who told of captains bold and grand,

       Lieutenants, marshals, seeking salt; Of colonels, majors, cap in hand, Who bade e'en majesty to halt; 1 It is hardly possible to conceive a more intelligent, venerable looking head, than poor Herbert Stockhore presents; a fine capacious forehead, rising like a promontory of knowledge, from a bold outline of countenance, every feature decisive, breathing serenity and thoughtfulness, with here and there a few straggling locks of silvery gray, which, like the time-discoloured moss upon some ancient battlements, are the true emblems of antiquity: the eye alone is generally dull and sunken in the visage, but during his temporary gleams of sanity, or fancied flights of poetical inspiration, it is unusually bright and animated. According to professor Camper, I should think the facial line would make an angle of eighty or ninety degrees; and, judging upon the principles laid down by Lavater, poor Herbert might pass for a Solon. Of his bumps, or phrenological protuberances, I did not take particular notice, but I have no doubt they would be found, upon examination, equally illustrative of such visionary systems.

      Told how the ensign nobly waved

       The colours on the famous hill;

       And names from dull oblivion saved,

       Who ne'er the niche of fame can fill:

       Who, like to Campbell, lends his name.{2}

       To many a whim he ne'er did write;