AUGUST
| 1835.] | AUGUST. | ||
|---|---|---|---|
| In August,—so the Planets say,— | |||
| Every Dog shall have his Day; | |||
| So at Houndsditch they meet, with much frisking and larking; | |||
| And proceed to the choice of a Member for Barking. | |||
| M | Season's | Odd Matters. | WEATHER. |
| D | Signs. | ||
| 1 | scamper | Rigdum Funnidos confesseth to having | |
| purloined the following veritable | |||
| 2 | away | story; but when or where, his memory | If the |
| deposeth not:— | |||
| 3 | the | weather | |
| 4 | deuce | OYSTER DAY. | ♎ ♅ ☉ ♂ ♍ |
| 5 | to pay | Paddy was sent to Billingsgate, on | |
| the First of August, to buy a bushel | hath been | ||
| 6 | a mad | of Oysters. When he returned, "What | |
| made you so long, Pat?" said his | lasting, | ||
| 7 | dog is | master. "Long, is it? By my sowl, I | |
| think I've been pretty quick, | ☽ ♓ ☌ ☍ | ||
| 8 | over | considering all things." "Considering | |
| what things?" "Why, considering the | look for a | ||
| 9 | the | gutting of the fish."—"Gutting what | |
| fish?"—"What fish! why the oysthers, | change; | ||
| 10 | way | to be sure."—"What is it that you | |
| mean?"—"What do I mane! why I mane, | |||
| 11 | he's | as I was resting meeself a bit, and | |
| taking a drop to comfort me, a | ☽ ☿ ♍ | ||
| 12 | bit | jontleman axed me what I had got in | |
| the sack. 'Oysthers, sir,' says I. | ♄ ☌ ♂ ♊ ♉ | ||
| 13 | a cow | 'Let's look at them,' says he, and he | |
| opened the bag. 'Och! thunder and | I say | ||
| 14 | he's | praties!' said he, 'who sould them to | |
| ye?' 'It was Mick Carney,' said I. | look for it, | ||
| 15 | bit | 'Mick Carney!' said he; 'the thief o' | |
| the world! what a big blackguard must | |||
| 16 | a sow | he have been to give them to ye | ♐ ♂ ☍ ☉ ♃ |
| without gutting.' 'And aren't they | |||
| 17 | he's | gutted?' said I. 'Divil a one o' | though |
| them,' said he. 'Musha, then,' said I, | |||
| 18 | bit | 'what will I do?' 'Do!' said he, 'I'd | perhaps a |
| sooner do them for you myself than | |||
| 19 | my | have you abused!' and so he takes 'em | change will |
| in doors, and guts 'em all nate and | |||
| 20 | poor | clane, as you'll see." And out Paddy | come not; |
| turned the empty shells on the floor. | |||
| 21 | old | ||
| ♒ ☽ ♉ | |||
| 22 | mongrel | ||
| in which | |||
| 23 | Toby | ||
| case, | |||
| 24 | and | ||
| 25 | they're | ||
| ♈ ♃ ♐ ♊ ⚹ | |||
| 26 | raving | ||
| you will | |||
| 27 | mad | ||
| do well | |||
| 28 | with | ||
| to wait | |||
| 29 | the | ||
| 30 | hydro- | ☉ ♐ ♃ | |
| 31 | phoby | till it doth. | |
THE GARDENER'S CALENDAR.
As I sat at my window a few evenings ago, a loud rattling in the street drew my attention, and at the same instant an omnibus stopped at my nextdoor neighbour's, the poulterer. First alighted a servant-maid and lad—then two or three half-grown boys and girls, intermingled with a torrent of chattels, consisting of shrubs, flowers, enough live animals to stock a menagerie, packages past counting, and lastly, Mrs. Giblet in full feather, arrayed in lily-white, and bearing in each hand a full-blown balsam. All was safely landed, when a hackney coach drove up at a quiet pace, and from it descended, with the help of his shopmen and a pair of crutches, my neighbour, Simon Giblet himself. His legs were swathed up, his back, for which broadcloth was formerly too narrow, seemed considerably shrunk, and he looked care-worn and in pain. After him was borne his second son Dick, apparently disabled too. I had scarcely seen my neighbour or any of his family for some months past, but as I had often gossipped in his shop, I determined to go down and inquire what had befallen him. He had just arrived at his great wooden chair. His eyes were gleaming with complacency on a goodly row of fatted fowls, all placed with their delicate, dainty, floury broad behinds before, and as he plumped into the seat he ejaculated, with a grunt, "Thank heaven!" A shopman sat in a corner plucking a snow-white pullet. Giblet looked at him wistfully, and then, "Bring it here, Sam," he cried. He took it, plucked a few handfuls of feathers, and as he returned it to Sam, "Thank heaven!" he grunted again. My foot kicked against something at the threshold. I stooped and picked up a clasped book, which I presented to him, as I tendered my sympathy. "Oh!" said he, "nothing but disasters. I've made ducks and drakes of my money, and a goose of myself; upon my sole, it's a blessing that I got away before Michaelmas. I'm in too much pain to tell you now. Ah! I see you've picked up my journal. Work or pleasure, I've always made up a day-book every night. I'll lend it you if you wish to see how I've been pigeoned. While I stuck to the fowls all went fair with me, but when I took to that river-bank I was like a duck out of water." I saw my neighbour was excited, so, after a few consoling words, I retreated, carrying off his calendar; and here are some extracts, by permission, for the benefit of all amateur ruralists.
DIARY.
March 21, 1834.—Mrs. G. bent on a rural retirement, and declaring this a dog-cheap bargain,—meet Mr. Grabbit to-morrow, pay premium, and take lease of his snug place at Strand-on-the-Green.—Wife insists on calling it Cherub Lodge, Paradise Bank.—N.B. Original sum, £600; Grabbit seeming to like us, abates a hundred entirely as a favour.
27th.—All safe arrived: only one pier-glass split into four, and best tea-set, bought as 32 pieces, converted into 32 dozen. However, Mrs. G. observes, that being by the river side, we must have a marine grotto, and the pieces of looking-glass, mixed with the bits of blue and gold china, will make a fine glitter among the moss and shells.
28th.—Grabbit recommends Isaac Snail as head gardener, and his son Isaac to help him—says old Isaac was his right hand, and begged to be left in the house, he was so attached to the garden.
31st.—Two days' rain, without ceasing; planning with Isaac on the large kitchen table covered an inch thick with mould—laid down gravel walks of red garter, and stuck up skewers for fruit trees.
April 1.—Rain falling, river rising, cellars filling.