The walls were vast, the eddying blast And the shadows they cast, came-vanished fast, And a deep recess no light might bless, So thick and drear, you might almost fear On one side lay stretched far away, Where ghosts might dance, or the devil prance I shuddering looked, and wished myself booked But the die was thrown,-the act was my own, I could not then turn back, So I trimmed the fire-my funeral pyre! And lay-upon the rack! How long thus I lay I can scarcely say, But at last a stupor stole, Like the mists that creep o'er a mountain steep, To obscure, not hide the soul: For still I could hear each sound of fear- The slight rain-tap-'twas a thunder clap! And the flickering light still caught my sight, In moulds it cast stern wild and vast And indistinct with gloom! But I must confess, that dim recess― Oh! for a counter charm!— Fancy might trace in its dreary space See !—it is!-'tis not-'tis! a glimmering spot! In fear, surprise, I rubbed my eyes It could only be a dream! A noise I heard! the horrid thing stirred- My blood cold ran-with shortened span And my heart did sink as tho' life's last link The fire light threw a lurid hue The face was white as the pale moonlight, Like snakes unroll'd, in many a fold Hung the dank and clammy hair. Across the floor the head it bore Once more, once more across the floor On, onward it passed, 'till it came at last I rose with a shout-" to hell, out! out!" And with kick and thump, and bang and bump With a gasp and a stare, and stiff erect hair, I found that I stood with my feet in a flood, I had got out of bed with this dream in my head, And the kick and the thump, and the bang and the bump Had knocked down the bason and ewer. Years after I found that the story went round, A GOSSIP TOUCHING BACHELORDOM. No, no quiero casarme Del mundo, del mundo gozar ! Aye! long life to the bachelors: they have the best end of the staff after all, provided they know the world and are neither prigs nor pedants. Frown not, O peerless Dulcinea, neither corrugate that marble brow nor plant the smile sardonic and contemptuous on those chiselled lips, because of my frank avowal of a decided preference for the state single, a preference which has been the result of long and laborious examination and reflection after much suffering. Yes, I hear what you say: "Some odious old thing in a wig who has been refused fifty times over; not so, fair lady! "Time has not thinned my flowing hair and once only did I attempt that nerve-exciting experiment, vulgarly called popping the question, and then-but I had better not spoil the interest of it by jumping to the conclusion all in a hurry: no! I utterly detest everything in the shape of fuss or haste. "Fair and softly goes far and easily," said the inimitable Sancho, from whom, by the bye, Lord Bacon filched many an aphorism. His well known "Let us take time that we may get done the sooner," is just a twistification of the forementioned adage of Sancho's, and no more; however it is quite in character, for what is it after all but a gammon of bacon? That is a little digression, and now to tell you how I behaved in the "Yerrahwill-you-marry-me-dear-Ally-Croker" accident, and faith it was a most moving accident, but how it moved, the sequel will tell-stop though! I must do it" purty"-how shall I begin? Shall I launch off with aspiring pinion into the regions of poetry, and in soft cadence of sweet measured time turn Il Grau Padre Alighieri's coat thus "It was the hour that wakens fond desire And melts the heart to breathe its fondest wish : Oh dear, that's too fine entirely, so here goes from pathos to bathos, from Parnassian pinnacles to prosaic plains. One beautiful autumnal evening, just as the deepening shades began to embrown the air, I found myself seated on a cushion in the deep window of a large room, my right arm resting on the seat which occupied the recess, and my interesting countenance slightly upturned towards a charming face surmounting the charming figure of as charming a flirt as I ever had the felicity of encountering. We were alone : we had been singing, and after having thrice repeated Mozart's beautiful duettino, "Se Potesse," there was a slight pause, which she broke by warbling, as if unconsciously, one of the melodies of my native land-"I'd mourn the hopes that leave me"-I was raised into the third heaven, and when she had concluded, spouted ore rotundo from Comus "Sure something holy lodges in that breast That I declared should be the final utterance of song for the evening, Now, was not that sufficient to prevent one from ever again "owning the soft impeachment?" Quite! for whenever afterwards I felt a growing inclination towards some angel with her wings in her pockets -up rose a vision of this dreadful Tom. I was perfectly hag-ridden by it; go where I would, gaze on whatever heavenly fair I might-no matter what the time, the place, the circumstance, or country, the moment a ray of tenderness dawned upon my heart there was this diabolical Tom, his snub nose redly shining, and his dirty fingers incessantly playing, while the cavernous orifice of his mouth was widely distended in a grim of fiendish delight. Pen or tongue are alike inadequate to express the torment, the horror I endured from this visitation, and I sought relief from all sources and in all modes, but in vain. I never heard a bell toll but it, said "Tom!” and as for chimes-if by any unforseen chance I came within hearing of them-I was nearly driven distracted, for they said nothing but "Tommy, Tommy;" in short the faintest sound of "tintinnabulary" clatter was enough to set me off like a sky-rocket. It was just about this time that Paganini was making such a furor in England, so as all the O'Tooles were 66 fanatici," up to town I went to hear him. As soon as ever I espied the distant smoke of London I plugged up my ears with waxed cotton, fearful of the bells, although by the precaution I lost the conversation of an enlightened fellow-traveller, who gave me a great deal of information about-his mode of rearing pigs. I arrived, as I had intended, late in the day and in the evening went to give my ears a banquet. Not till the first coup d'archet from the orchestra did I withdraw my anti Tom's. At length out came the fiddle-fiend, and I certainly thought him as ill constructed a specimen of the genus homo as ever was put together. But O mighty Hermes! when he spoke, I say he, for who but a born natural could suppose that the fiddle had a separate identity when he spoke he 66 took my troubled soul and lapped it in Elysium." The first piece he played was that beautiful "Carnival de Venice." I was in a perfect ecstacy, breathless, all ears, and at the moment I had no more idea of Tom than I had of Tombuctoo. But alas! 66 "Medio de fonte leporum, Surgit amari aliquid quod in ipsis floribus angat." Little did I dream of what was coming. He came out again, and after an introduction which gave me an idea that it was Elderly Nicholas himself who was performing-he commenced the theme of the celebrated Campanile." Blessed saints! I had nearly gone distracted when the first stroke of the carillon assailed my tympanum, and tom, tom, tom, tom, tom, tom, rang clear and silvery through the house. In desperation I rushed from my seat, and after a tremendous struggle, in which my hat was lost, and my coat razeed to a jacket, I got out, and with the little sense that was left me, called a coach, and drove to mine inn, where very soon after I sought the repose I so much needed. But alas! repose visited me not, although I slept, for I dreamed a dream in which my waking horrors were aggravated ten-fold, while escape was denied. Again I saw Paganini; but, this time, two-headed and fourarmed. One of the heads was his own, and the other that of Tom, the Tom, from the nose of whose round and shining face was extended the hands of the supplementary arms, in the act of taking that horrid |