From Leech's contributions to the "Bon Gaultier Ballads" my third selection consists of an illustration of "The Lay of the Lover's Friend." The "Lay" is a capital skit on the propensity of certain lovers to inflict the sorrows caused by the loss of their hearts upon friends to whom the loss is a matter of indifference. Says the friend:
The Lover's Friend and the Lover.
"'I would all womankind were dead,
Or banished o'er the sea;
For they have been a bitter plague
These last six weeks to me.
It is not that I am touched myself,
For that I do not fear;
No female face has shown me grace
For many a bygone year.
But 'tis the most infernal bore,
Of all the bores I know,
To have a friend who's lost his heart
A short time ago.
"'Whene'er we steam it to Blackwall,
Or down to Greenwich run,
To quaff the pleasant cider-cup,
Or feed on fish and fun;
Or climb the slopes of Richmond Hill
To catch a breath of air—
Then, for my sins, he straight begins
To rave about his fair.
Oh, 'tis the most tremendous bore,
Of all the bores I know,
To have a friend who's lost his heart
A short time ago.'"
Judging from the angry face of "the lover's friend" as he stretches out his hand towards the claret, it will require even more than the consolation to be derived from the finest brand to enable him to endure his friend's moaning with common patience. One studies with wonder and admiration the few touches with which the story is told in this little drawing. See the handsome frowning face of "the lover's friend," so perfectly in contrast with that of the absorbed lover, whose voice can almost be heard expatiating on the beauty of the lost one, and the hardness of her heart!