And the back crossbar as strong as the fore, This morning the parson takes a drive. 11. The parson was working his Sunday text- And half-past nine by the meet'n'-house clock- 12. What do you think the parson found, O. W. HOLMES. 179. SCENE FROM "THE POOR GENTLEMAN." Characters: SIR CHARLES CROPLAND-WARNER, his steward-OLI APOD. War. Your honor is right welcome into Kent. I am proud to see Sir Charles Cropland on his estate again. I hope you mean to stay on the spot for some time, Sir Charles ? Sir C. A very tedious time-three days, Mr. Warner. War. Ah, good sir! things would prosper better if you honored us with your presence a little more. I wish you lived entirely upon the estate, Sir Charles. it Sir C. Thank you, Warner; but modern men of fashion find very difficult to live upon their estates. War. The country about you so charming! Sir C. Look ye, Warner: I must hunt in Leicestershire1-for that's the thing. In the frosts, and the spring months, I must be in town, at the clubs-for that's the thing. In summer, I must be at the watering-places-for that's the thing. Now, Warner, under these circumstances, how is it possible for me to reside upon my estate? For my estate being in KentWar. The most beautiful part of the country! Sir C. Hang beauty! We don't mind that in Leicestershire. My estate, I say, being in Kent War. A land of milk and honey! Sir C. Melt your fat! Listen to me: my estates being in Kent War. So woody! Sir C. Burn the wood! No, that's wrong; for it's convenient -I am come on purpose to cut it. War. Ah! I was afraid so! Dice on the table, and then, the ax to the root! Money lost at play, and then, good lack! the forest groans for it. Sir C. But you are not the forest, and why the deuce do you groan for it? War. I heartily wish, Sir Charles, you may not encumber3 the goodly estate. Your worthy ancestors had views for their posterity. Sir C. And I shall have views for my posterity: I shall take especial care the trees sha'n't intercept their prospect. In short, Mr. Warner, I must have three thousand pounds in three days. Fell timber to that amount, immediately. "Tis my peremptory' order, sir. 1 Leicestershire (les' ter sher), an inland county of England, near its center. Root.- En cům' ber, embarrass; to load with debt.-- Pêr' emp to ry, that puts an end to all debate; positive. War. I shall obey you, Sir Charles; but 'tis with a heavy heart. Forgive an old servant of the family, if he grieves to see you forget some of the duties for which society has a claim upon you. Sir C. What do you mean by duties? War. Duties, Sir Charles, which the extravagant man of property can never fulfill: such as to support the dignity of an English landholder, for the honor of old England; to promote the welfare of his honest tenants; and to succor the industrious poor, who naturally look up to him for assistance. But I shall obey you, Sir Charles. [Exit. Sir C. A tiresome old blockhead!-But where is this Ollapod? His jumble of physic and shooting may enliven me; and to a man of gallantry, in the country, his intelligence is by no means unin'teresting, nor his services inconvenient. Ollapod.] Ah! Ollapod! [Enter Oll. Sir Charles, I have the honor to be your slave! Hope your health is good. Been a hard winter here-sore throats were plenty-so were woodcocks. Flushed four couple one morning, in a half-mile walk from our town, to cure Mrs. Quarles of a quinsy. May coming on soon, Sir Charles-season of delight, love, and campaigning! Hope you come to sojourn, Sir Charles. Shouldn't be always on the wing-that's being too flighty. [Laughing.] He! he he! Do you take, good sir? do you take? Sir C. Oh, yes, I take. But, by the cockade in your hat, Ollapod, you have added lately, it seems, to your avocations. Oll. He! he! Yes, Sir Charles. I have now the honor to be cornet in the volunteer association corps' of our town. It fell out unexpected—pop, on a sudden; like the going off of a field-piece, or an alderman in an apoplexy. Sir C. Explain. Oll. Happening to be at home-rainy day-no going out to spōrt, blister, shoot, nor bleed-was busy behind the counter You know my shop, Sir Charles-Galen's' Head over the door -new gilt him last week, by the by-looks as fresh as a pill. 1 Corps (kor), a body of troops.- GALEN, or in Latin CLAUDIUS GALE'NUS, a celebrated physician and most prolific and able writer, was born about 131 A. D. At the age of thirty-four he settled at Rome, where, soon after, he became physician to the Emperor MARCUS AURELIUS Sir C. Well, no more on that head now. Proceed. Oll. On that head! [Laughing.] He! he! he! That's very well-very well, indeed! Thank you, good sir-I owe you one! Churchwarden Posh, of our town, being ill of an indigestion, from eating three pounds of measly pork at a vestry dinner, I was making up a cathartic for the patient; when who should strut into the shop but Lieutenant Grains, the brewer, sleek as a dray-horse-in a smart scarlet jacket, tastily turned up with a rhubarb-colored lapel'! I confess his figure struck me. I looked at him, as I was thumping the mortar, and felt instantly inoculated with a military ardor. Sir C. Inoculated! I hope your ardor was of a favorable sort. Oll. Ha! ha! That's very well-very well, indeed! Thank you, good sir-I owe you one! We first talked of shooting— he knew my celebrity that way, Sir Charles. I told him, the day before I had killed six brace of birds. I thumped on at the mortar. We then talked of physic; I told him, the day before I had killed-lost, I mean, six brace of patients. thumped on at the mortar, eying him all the while; for he looked very flashy, to be sure; and I felt an itching to belong to the corps. The medical and military bōth deal in death, you know-so, 'twas natural. He! he!-do you take, good sir? do you take? Sir C. Take! Oh, nobody can miss. I Oll. He then talked of the corps itself; said it was sickly; and if a professional person would administer to the health of the association, dose the men, and drench the horses, he could, perhaps, procure him a cornetcy. Sir C. Well, you jumped at the offer? Oll. Jumped! I jumped over the counter; kicked down Churchwarden Posh's cathartic into the pocket of Lieūtĕn'ant Grains' smart scarlet jacket, tastily turned up with a rhubarbcolored lapel'; embraced him and his offer; and I am now Cornet Ollapod, apothecary, at the Galen's Head, of the Association Corps of Cavalry, at your service! Medicine and every science allied to it are under great obligations to GALEN. He was a man skilled in all philosophy, a profound reasoner. an ardent admirer of truth, and a worthy member of society. Sir C. I wish you joy of your appointment. You may now distill water for the shop from the laurels you gather in the field. Oll. Water for-Oh! laurel-water. He! he! Come, that's věry well-very well, indeed! Thank you, good sir-I owe you one! Why, I fancy fame will follow, when the poison of a small mistake I made has ceased to operate. Sir C. A mistake! Oll. Having to attend Lady Kitty Carbuncle, on a grand field-day, I clapped a pint bottle of her ladyship's diet-drink into one of my holsters, intending to proceed to the patient, after the exercise was over. I reached the martial ground, and jalaped-galloped, I mean-wheeled, and flourished, with great éclat; but when the word "Fire!" was given, meaning to pull out my pistol, in a deuce of a hurry, I presented, neck foremost, the diet-drink of Lady Kitty Carbuncle; and the medicine being, unfortunately, fermented by the jolting of my horse, it forced out the cork, with a prodigious pop, full in the face of my gallant commander. Sir C. Ha ha! ha! A mistake, indeed. Oll. Rather awkward!-But, Sir Charles, excuse me-your servant! I must march-patients impatient. You take? Sir C. Oh, yes; and so will they, I fancy, before you've don with them. Oll. Ha! physic-certainly! quin'tida, scammony, gambōge. sir; I owe you one! Salts, rhubarb, senna, coloGood, good! thank you, good [They go out at opposite sides. COLMAN. 1. HOW 180. APOSTROPHE TO SLEEP.3 OW many thousands of my poorest subjects Nature's soft nurse, how have I frighted thee, 1 Eclat (à klå'), applause; striking effect.- Gamboge (gam bỏj′).— The following is an apostrophe of King Henry IV.- Nurse (nårs). |