give abundance and content. It would be well if our heraldry were, as Othello says, “ hands, not hearts." From the true poet's land flows the purest chrystal, which without disguise, shews the little shining pebble and the hollow shell in their native brilliancy and emptiness. Hands are the most important members, far superior to heads ; even a bad man's hand may be sometimes held out, and give a hearty shake, when in five minutes after the head may reprove the action ; when the hand is given in haste, the repentant head sometimes says excuse my glove," which may be translated “excuse my heart." How often do we see when gentlemen can do nothing with their heads, settle matters with their hands; men, who have frequently not reason to withdraw an objection, have fortunately a finger to draw a trigger. I hope these affairs will, in many cases, be allowed to depend entirely upon hands, and in which heads have not the least transaction. A hand, I repeat it, is the most powerful engine in the possession of man; and if any gentleman present is sceptical on this point, I trust he may be arrested before he gets home, in order that he may declare to me, by to-morrow morning's post, that there is nothing so awful as the hand of a sheriff's officer ; never mind the head of the law, or I should say, head and wig; for what would one be without the other ? but keep from the hand-touch but a little finger, and you are lost. A hand must be the best, for, as Lord Chesterfield says, “Shew me the company he keeps, and I'll tell you the man:” now as the hand keeps the best company, viz. the pocket—it must consequently be superior to every other part, at least, until any thing shall be found superior to the pocket; which no one will have the hardihood to say is the head; for how often is the head completely lost in the pocket! Every thing depends upon the hand; and we may liken society to one great fiddle, that only wants judicious fingering to be made profitable : on it, all men play different tunes, but the most prevalent is--a catch. What would Hymen do if it were not for hands ?—when a man comes to the dreadful resolution of fettering himself up for life, where does he put the ring of his charmer ?-upon the hand ; the hand settles all matters at the marriage, and very frequently after it. I am aware that this important subject has been but slightly touched by me, but I at first merely attempted it off hand, and will leave it to abler fingers ; and 'if, like the patrarchs of old, I find refreshment under your palms, my gratitude shall not be wauting for the obligation.


From harmony, from heavenly harmony

This universal frame began :
When nature underneath a heap

Of jarring atoms lay,
And could not heave her head,
The tuneful voice was heard from high,

Arise ye more than dead!
Then cold, and hot, and moist, and dry,
In order to their stations leap,

And Music's power obey.
From harmony, from heavenly harmony

This universal frame began :

From harmony to harmony
Through all the compass of the notes it ran,
The diapason closing full in Man.

What passion cannot Music raise and quell!

When Jubal struck the corded shell,
His listening brethren stood around.
And, wondering, on their faces fell,

To worship that celestial sound.
Less than a god they thought there could not dwell

Within the hollow of that shell,

That spoke so sweetly and so well.
What passion cannot Music raise and quell?

The trumpet's loud clangor

Excites us to arms,
With shrill notes of anger

And mortal alarms.
The double, double, double beat

Of the thundering drum
Cries, hark! the foes come;
Charge! charge! 'tis too late to retreat.

The soft complaining flute
In dying notes discovers

The woes of hopeless lovers,
Whose dirge is whisper'd by the warbling lute.

Sharp violins proclaim
Their jealous pangs, and desperation,
Fury, frantic indignation,
Depths of pains, and heights of passion,

For the fair disdainful dame.
But oh! what heart can teach,

What human voice can reach

The sacred organ's praise ?
Notes inspiring holy love,
Notes that wing their heavenly ways

To mend the choirs above.

Orpheus could lead the savage race:
And trees uprooted left their place,

Sequacious of the lyre:
But bright Cecilia raised the wonder higher :
When to her organ vocal breath was given,
An angel heard, and straight appear'd, :

Mistaking earth for heaven.

As from the power of sacred lays

The spheres began to move.
And sung the great Creator's praise

To all the bless'd above;
So when the last and dreadful hour
This crumbling pageant shall devour,
The trumpet shall be heard on high,
The dead shall live, the living die,
And Music shall untune the sky.


Who's for Calais, the packet is sailing now,

Pray make haste, or you'll all be too late ;
Leave your lunch, no time for regaling now-
Pray can't you beg of the captain to wait.

Wind and tide never stay,

Come, haste now, let's away :
Here, waiter, what's to pay? all's ready now,
O charming, and very like Twickenham ferry,
Is crossing over to Calais, I vow.

Spoken.]-Now, sir, if you mean to go, you must come-I am only taking leave of my relations. O, we hav’nt time to take leave of relations now. La, Captain, how I have run, I am quite out of breath. They told me you were gone; I had no time to eat my lunch, and hardly time to pay for it. Never mind your lunch, sir, it will be all the same in an hour's time.- Why, captain, there's no fear, is there? Yes, ma'am, plenty of fear, but no danger. Dear how shall I get on board ? This way, ma'am, step on this plank. That! bless it's no broader than a twopenny ribbon ; I am as giddy as a goose, and I shouldn't like a duck. That lady's afraid of a pitch in. Goose, duck, and pigeon, what a horrid pun ! That fellow deserves to be sent to the Poultry Compter for it. Take care, oh! I am so frightful. You are indeed, ma'am. Stop the ship, the captain dont know his way. I say, Captain. Odon't bother me with your nonsense. I want to ask you a question, Captain,-pray how's the wind ! Pretty well thankee, lrow are you? Pray, Captain, how far are we from Calais ? A little better than five leagues. A little bet. ter, a little worse you mean. Well, never you mind, you'll be there first. Why, sir ? Why, you're half seas over already. O dear, how nice we are going along ; I do like it so ; I an't sick a bit ; what a way we are from Dover already ; there, I do think I see the spires of Calais. Where-where? Where, why at Calais, to be sure. Well, sir, you have no occasion to be so sharp; I don't suppose you saw them at Deal. Talking of Deal, who's for a rubber? I doesn't allow of no cards on board my wessel. Well, Twizzle, how do you like it ? 0, I like it wery much, it's just like sailing to Twickenham on a Sunday, only it's a little more broaderer and a little more salterer. I should like to have a song ; what do you think of the Storm? O, don't mention it? Pa, sing that song you sung when we went to Chelsea in the funny. That funny was a wherry, my dear. Oh, was it ! why then it was wery funny, for



How pleasant, and very like Twickenham ferry
Is crossing from Dover to Calais, I vow.

All so gay when we entered the packet here,

Half seas over the scene is quite changed,
Wind against us, confusion and racket here,
Sickly visages, and toilets deranged :

I shall be ill, I fear,

I feel a litle queer,
Can't we go back? my dear, that's too late now.

Spoken.]-Oh! oh! I never was so ill in all my life, 0, 0. Sarve you right, you would come a pleasuring ; now you've got your belly full of it. I wish I hadn't come, I'm so giddy ; the next time I go to France, I'll go the whole way by land. I say, look at Twizzle, he said he should enjoy it ; I'll speak to him. No, don't ; yes 1 must ; see what a pickle he is in." No, don't; it will be cruel. I say, Twizzle, how do you find yourself? you seem to be very poorly. 0, 0, 0. (imitation of sickness.) Ah! Pips, how do, Pips ? you seem to be hard at it there ; I am going down; can I bring any thing up for you?-Who's for a fat mutton chop? I was as well as ever I was in my life, till that fellow mentioned the mutton chop, Well, never mind, keep a good heart. Keep-a man neod have a stomach of iron to keep

any thing, I think.-0 dear, Molly, Molly, where's my servant ! I'm dying. So am I, ma'am, and can't come. How dare you be ill when I want you ? Captain, Captain, bring the brandy-bottle. I'm going to go. Pray, Captain, was any person ever lost here? No, sir, several's been drowned, but we always found them again. Sir, the next time you are taken so, I'd thank you to turn your head ; you've quite spoiled my wife's pelisse. If people's taken suddenly, people can't help other people's pelisses, sir. Captain, could I lay down a bit ? Yes, sir, there's a bed below, there's only three in it. Captain, my hat's overboard. Never mind your hat, sir. I shouldn't, but my wig is in it. There's a whale. A whale! where, where ? I'd give a hundred guineas to see a whale: never seed a whale in all my life. No, sir, it's only a mispronunsification, sir, that's all; it's my vife's wail, that she wears over her vig, sir, that's all. O, is it ?—then

How charming, and very like Twickenham ferry,
Is crossing over to Calais, I vow.

Full six hours after sailing from Dover,

Safely anchored at Calais at last :
All forgetting their sufferings now over,
But what's to follow is worse than the past.

Can't make the pier, good lack,

Carried on shore pick-a-back, Souse in the water smack, these are the joys now. Spoken.] Tell me, Captain, can't you make the Pier of CaLais ?-Yes, and I can run foul of the Bar, too. No, no, I bar that, says Twizzle. Where's the breakers ?- There, a-head. What does he say? ah, break my head. No, no, the breakers a-head. What's that the Bar? dear me, I always thought it was a large pole of iron. And I always thought it was like Temple Bar. Captain, how are we to go ashore ? in a boat? No I wish we could, ma'am. How are we to go ashore, then ? As well as we can ma'am,—there, these two Frenchmen will carry you on their shoulders. Particularly horrid ! I declare l am so giddy, I don't know, I declare, whether I am on my head or on my heels. Oh, your right side uppermost now, ma'am, depend «upon it. 0, 0, I'm black and blue already, these fellows are pinching and pulling me about so. I say, Twizzle, do you twig that lady's legs on the two fellows' backs, carrying her through the water. Legs! mill posts, you mean. Why, yes, as you say, she don't stand upon trifles. Vell, if ever I saw such a posse of vomen in the vater before! Vell, I vonder if there's a specimen of the French belles now. O crikey, Bill! here's a jolly row.

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