| 1836.] | FEBRUARY. | ||
|---|---|---|---|
| Look, Mrs. B——, what a crowd I see, | |||
| And the bells they make such a clatter; | |||
| And the people run, and I hear a gun! | |||
| Whatever can be the matter? | |||
| Mrs. C——, my dear, it's no good, I fear, | |||
| For us honest women and our spouses, | |||
| For the people say, the King's going to-day, | |||
| To open two very bad houses. | |||
| M | Season's | Odd Matters. | WEATHER. |
| D | Signs. | ||
| 1 | In | ||
| 2 | this | "TRANSFER DAY." | other |
| 3 | gay | As I was walking past the Bank, | matters, |
| (I know not why I stroll'd that way,) | |||
| 4 | month | I saw a lady tall and lank, | ☽ ☍ |
| With golden ringlets mix'd with grey; | |||
| 5 | I | And as she tripp'd, or strove to trip, | ☋ ♅ ♑ ♎ ⚹ |
| Adown the steps, so light and gay, | |||
| 6 | would | The greasy granite made her slip, | so |
| And down she fell on Transfer Day. | |||
| 7 | not | worthily | |
| I rais'd her up with gallant air; | |||
| 8 | choose | For I'm a Major on half-pay, | stepped |
| Who only live to serve the fair, | |||
| 9 | to | At any time, in any way: | |
| And while she blush'd a purple hue, | |||
| 10 | walk | Her eyes obliquely shot a ray, | ♃ ☉ ♐ ♋ ♉ |
| Which seem'd to say, "You will not rue | |||
| 11 | the | Your service on a Transfer Day." | into the |
| 12 | streets | And while the glance she threw at me | shoes of my |
| Was thro' my heart a-making way; | |||
| 13 | in | I straight began a colloquy, | |
| And to myself I thus did say: | |||
| 14 | dancing | If tradesmen, when their bills they bring, | |
| Would be contented with half-pay; | ♊ ☿ ⚹ | ||
| 15 | shoes | I'd soar aloft on freedom's wing, | |
| Nor care a rush for Transfer Day. | renowned | ||
| 16 | nor | ||
| But needy men the needful need; | |||
| 17 | would | So, spite of ringlets golden grey, | |
| And eyes that squint, I'll take the hint, | ☍ ☿ | ||
| 18 | I | Nor throw the lucky chance away. | |
| Full soon I found—ah! pleasing sound!— | predecessor, | ||
| 19 | for | With wealth she could my love repay; | |
| No longer mute, I urg'd my suit, | |||
| 20 | the | Upon that very Transfer Day. | |
| ♀ ♂ ☿ | |||
| 21 | world | I leave untold our courtship fond:— | |
| I made her Mrs. Major Cox; | the great | ||
| 22 | be | And in return for Hymen's bond, | |
| She kindly placed me in the stocks. | FRANCIS | ||
| 23 | seen | Her heart is good, her temper mild; | |
| She rules with more than sov'reign sway; | MOORE, | ||
| 24 | to | Nor have I thought myself beguil'd, | |
| Or once regretted Transfer Day. | Defunct, | ||
| 25 | trip | ||
| 26 | along | ||
| ♊ ☌ ⊕ ♓ | |||
| 27 | in | ||
| which shoes, | |||
| 28 | light | ||
| by-the-bye, | |||
| 29 | nankeen. | ||
Humbuggum Ass-trologicum, pro Anno 1836.
VOX MULTORUM, VOX STULTORUM: the Voice of the Many is the Voice of a Zany.—It brawleth at all Places and Seasons.
Courteous Reader,
I DO herewith, present thee with an hieroglyphic, after the accustomed usage of my lamented precursor and prototype, Francis Moore, defunct. It prefigureth a mighty change now lying in the womb of futurity, and which doubtless will be brought forth in due season by the great man-midwife, Time.
And now do I most entreatingly invite thee to cast a Parthian glance at my foregone prophetic lucubrations, and especially towards that symbolical prefiguration or hieroglyphic, by which I brightly shadowed forth a certain notable event, the fulfilment whereof did so closely follow the heels of the prediction as to cause the multitude to marvel;—and when thou hast sufficiently pondered thereupon, I would ask thee whether thou dost not in verity deem me a fit and worthy successor of the renowned Francis Moore, defunct?
I do thus throw myself on thy candour, because certain of mine adversaries do most unworthily insinuate, that my astrological skill is stark naught; that I hold no correspondence with the stars; that I am no more acquainted with the Great Bear than with the Great Mogul; that I gather no signs of the Times from the signs of the Zodiac; and, in brief, that I am no conjuror! My only familiar, they affirm, is a little, insignificant, diminutive thing, called Common Sense, whose aid any one may have if he chooses; that the said Common Sense collects together certain things called Past Events, with which he compares Present Appearances, and they help him to Future Probabilities; they are then put into the crucible of Ordinary Judgment; and my sagacious and veracious prophecies and hieroglyphics are the result of this simple alchemy!
Candid Reader! Let thine own discretion decide, whether logical judgment or astro-logical fudgement be the art which influenceth my lucubrations.