The bottle was now put into quick circulation; harmony and hilarity prevailed; and the poet, availing himself of the moments of inspiration, gave the following chant, extempore.—
Song. Air. Here's to the maiden of bashful fifteen. Here's to the land where fair Freedom is seen, Old England,—her glory and trade, aye;— Here's to the island of Erin so green, And here's to Sir Felix O'Grady; Let the toast pass, Flinch not the glass That warms like the kiss of your favorite lass. Here's to the beaus and the belles of the day, The pleasures of life who enjoy, sir;— Here's to the leaders of fashion, so gay, And here's to the dashing Fitzroy, sir. Let the toast pass, Flinch not the glass That warms like the kiss of your favorite lass. Here's to our sailors who plough the salt wave, And never from battle have ran, sir;— Here's to our soldiers who nobly behave, And here's to brave Colonel Mc. Can, sir. Let the toast pass, Flinch not the glass That warms like the kiss of your favorite lass. Here's to the joys that our reason engage, Where Truth shines our best benefactress; Here's to the triumph of Learning,—the Stage,- And here's to each actor and actress. Let the toast pass, Flinch not the glass That warms like the kiss of your favorite lass. Here's to the man with a head to discern, And eke with a heart to bestow, sir, Tom Dashall, well skill'd Life in London to learn; And here's to the Squire Tallyho, sir. Let the toast pass, Flinch not the glass That warms like the kiss of your favorite lass. Here's to the friendship united and true, That paces variety's round, sir; To Sparkle and Mortimer fill then, anew, And let us with pleasure abound, sir. Let the toast pass, Flinch not the glass That warms like the kiss of your favorite lass.
This complimentary bag-a-telle was well received, and Sir Felix, shaking the amateur cordially by the hand, observed, that amongst other attainments before he left London, he meant to acquire the art of making verses, when he should give the poet a Rowland for his Oliver!
The player having but recently returned to Town, after completing his engagements with some of the Irish provincial theatres, proceeded to amuse his auditory, the baronet excepted, with accounts of the manner of posting in the sister kingdom.—
“Travelling,” said he, “in the province of Munster, having got into a chaise, I was surprised to hear the driver knocking at each side of the carriage.—“What are you doing?”—“A'n't I nailing your honor?”—“Why do you nail me up? I don't wish to be nailed up.”—“Augh! would your honor have the doors fly off the hinges?” When we came to the end of the stage, I begged the man to unfasten the doors.—“Ogh! what would I be taking out the nails for, to be racking the doors?”—“How shall I get out then?”—“Can't your honor get out of the window like any other jontleman?” I then began the operation; but having forced my head and shoulders out, could get no farther, and called again to the postillion.—“Augh! did any one ever see any one get out of a chay head foremost? Can't your honor put out your feet first, like a Christian?”
Here the baronet manifested considerable impatience, and was about to interrupt the narrator, when the latter requesting permission, continued:
“Next day four horses were attached to the crazy vehicle;—one, unfortunately, lost a shoe; and as I refused to go on until the poor animal was shod, my two postillions commenced, in my hearing, a colloquy.—“Paddy, where will I get a shoe, and no smith nigh hand?”—“Why don't you see yon jontleman's horse in the field; can't you go and unshoe him?”—“True for ye,” said Jem, “but that horse's shoe will never fit him.” “Augh! you can but try it,” said Paddy. So the gentleman's horse was actually unshod, and his shoe put upon the posting hack; and fit or not fit, Paddy went off with it.
“Same day, during a violent storm of wind and rain, 1 found that two of the windows were broken, and two could not, by force or art of man, be pulled up. I ventured to complain to Paddy of the inconvenience I suffered from the storm pelting in my face. His consolation was, “Augh! God bless your honour, and can't you get out and set behind the carriage, and you'll not get a drop at all, I'll engage!”
The player having thus closed his narrative, and the laughter of the company having subsided, the baronet very candidly admitted, that the sister kingdom in many parts, was miserably deficient in the requisites of travelling, and other conveniences to which the English were accustomed. But in process of time (he continued) we shall get more civilized. Nevertheless, we have still an advantage over you; we have more hospitality, and more honesty. Nay, by the powers! but it is so, my good friends. However much we unhappily may quarrel with each other, we respect the stranger who comes to sojourn amongst us; and long would he reside, even in the province of Munster, before a dirty spalpeen would rob him of his great coat and umbrella, and be after doing that same thing when he was at a friend's house too, from which they were taken, along with nearly all the great coats, cloaks, shawls, pelisses, hats and umbrellas, belonging to the company."{1}
1 We are inclined to believe that Sir Felix alludes to the fol-lowing instance of daring depredation.