OVER HEAD AND UNDER FOOT.
Bailie Mucklescratch dwelt at Glasgow, in the Candleriggs. He was what is called a "warm" man; that is, one who had rubbed on well in the world, as indeed it is probable most of his customers did, the Scots being a people celebrated for playing the rubber of life. The baillie kept, in American phraseology, a "store"—in London vernacular, a chandler's shop; a bazaar, whose staple consisted of oatmeal and red herrings, esculents in great esteem north of Tweed. It has long been the opprobrium of philosophy that no satisfactory reasons have been assigned for the proneness, in Caledonia, towards porridge and salt fish. With unqualified satisfaction the announcement is here made that their large pewter Minerva medal will be presented, at the next meeting of the British Association, for the best treatise on the "causes and effects" of a taste, evident on the most superficial glance at the natives of that country. He also kept an only son, Sandy Macalister Mucklescratch, who kept——but that is not part of our present affair.
Now, though the elder Mucklescratch evinced no ambition in selecting a worldly position for himself, he had an itching about the appearance of his heir. To this end, after a course of "humanities" at home, he consigned him to a member of the College of Surgeons, an establishment renowned for the sobriety and decorum of its disciples. No youth since the days of Esculapius was ever in so fair a way to dignify the profession of medicine as the young Glasgovian, if his own account was to be believed; and who was so likely to possess the real facts of the case? To be sure, the honour was not attained free of expense; but could it enter even the heart of a Scottish chandler to suppose that his son might carve at the same table with Sir Benjamin Brodie, or Sir Astley Cooper, without sharing the cost of the entertainment. Day by day accounts arrived from the medical student; those who observed their effects upon the receiver might have concluded they were not quite satisfactory; but what could be expected from an old fellow who lived upon "cock-a-leekie" in the Candleriggs? Fortunately, some of these letters have been preserved; we copy one, to show the progress made by the writer in other composition as well as that peculiar to Materia Medica.
"Governor,—Science can't be purchased without dibbs. When we want subjects, we must shell-out. My share, for next lecture night (as there will only be four of us), will take the shine out of a ten pound stiff. Send the price of the spread, old trump, to your dutiful son,
"Sandy."
However well calculated such studies might have been to procure patients for the son, they dealt differently with the patience of the father. Indeed, it can hardly be held unreasonable that a man who had existed for half a century on fourpence a day should feel a little disposed to inform himself how ten sovereigns could be required for the fourth of a supper bill. Full of this natural curiosity, the man of groats went to Edinburgh, embarked smack for London, and presently domiciled himself on a lower floor in the neighbourhood of Upper Gower Street, where, as the bill in the window implied, "gentlemen were taken in, and done for." The traveller was weary: with his nightcap mounted, and his chamber's light ignited, he was about to seek Nature's restorer. What scared him from his purpose?
The clock had told ten, and in the drawing-room apartments vertical, four of the "Won't-go-home-till-morning" club assembled to pass the day. "Gentlemen," shouted the chairman, "here's CONFUSION TO ALL ORDER! Now the Charter chant, if you please, with honours." Then rose the company, and while each executed a rigadoon to his particular taste, all pealed forth in chorus—
"Long life to jolly drinking!
Send round the wine like winking:
The liquor's free,
And so are we—
Hurrah! for jolly drinking!"
Thus, from night to morn the carouse continued, and each returning sun was the signal for its repetition. There was but a choice of evils for the ground-floor tenant—to remain where he was, and be killed by the inch, or rather, by the foot, or pay a se'nnight's rent for a night's lodging—which would have despatched him at once. All day did the miserable meal-man seek his hopeful, with sorrow, and no success, and all night (truth compels the confession) over the sire's head did the son perform the dance of death. A shocking bad life was "Sandie" leading: both the elder and the younger Scot were pursuing the M.D. after a fashion Maximé Deflendum. The week ended, leaving the Glasgow magistrate with just enough of life to assist him back to the Candleriggs. A trusty friend in the Great Metropolis, however, was commissioned to discover the retreat of the prodigal, and compass his restoration to the disconsolate parent. After a time, and a rigid stoppage of supplies, this was effected; and Macalister Mucklescratch's career of dissipation ended, as many a similar course has terminated, in his being sent to the Old Baillie!
Far north as he was born, the ancient Scot had a warm heart. Kindness worked its accustomed office; and it was not long before the prodigal son became the pride and comfort of his father's house. A pleasant thing it is to see the pair seated together, and hear the old man, with glistening eyes, repeat his especial bon mot. "Eh, Sandie, my lad, when you and I were practising 'ABOVE' 'BELOW,' wha would ha' thought it would have ended in
'All's Well!'"
V.
Tom Gad, for a lark, attempts Hyde Park,
All for to ride on a horse;
Which meets his spur with some demur,
And kicks without remorse.
Tom Gad, about Achilles' statue,
How all the people are staring at you!
Bless me! there's a Flea.
12. Mr. Muntz complains of the ventilation of "the House," and advocates "more hair."
29. Restoration day. Hearts of oak cut their sticks.
"To witch the world with noble horsemanship."
While all the rest are riding at their will,
The poor hack-author wags his weary quill;
Save through his garret-roof he knows no rein;
No stir-up, but when publishers complain;
No shay drawn up for him; pegg'd to the shop, he
Must hear no cry of hounds—but "copy, copy!"
He knows no hunter but the printer's devil,
Comes to no checks but those when critics cavil,
Or such as touch his raw, if he's a feeler,
When driven to drive a bargain with a dealer.
Draft Horse.
Hunter and Hack.
Seller and Buyer.