* and strewing the inside of my bed with horse-hair to send me to sleep, after a fortnight's dancing round my room with the toothache!”
“Three strokes from the club of Caliban would not so effectually break my head, as the reflection would break my heart that I had done aught to displease him! Now, gentlemen, the murder's out; and if for blabbing family secrets Uncle Timothy in his wrath will insist upon fining me—an extra glass of punch! in truth I must submit and sip.”
“You see, my good friends,” said Uncle Timothy, after a short pause, “that the rogue is incorrigible! But Benjamin Bosky”—(here Uncle Tim tried to look sententious, and adopted the bowwow style)—“I cannot but blush, deeply blush for thy morals, or rather, Benjamin Bosky, for thy no-morals, when thou canst thus blurt thy flattery in my face, because I simply did a duty that kindred imposed upon me, and the sweet consciousness of performing made light and pleasant.
* When the dreadful earthquake at Lisbon had frightened the
English people into an apprehension of the like calamity at
home, a quack advertised his pills as “being good for
earthquakes.”
What I have done was at the whisper of a higher monitor than man; and from Him alone—even if I could suppose myself worthy, which I do not—I hope for reward. He who is capable of ingratitude is incapable of any virtue. But gratitude, the most dignified return we can lavish on our benefactor, is the silent aspiration of the heart, and must not, good Benjamin, be placarded on every wall, like a play-bill, a lottery puff, or thy rigmarole ballads, three yards for a penny! There is not a being, however humble his station, but may find some deserving object to awake his friendship and share his benevolence. And be assured, dear Benjamin, that a judicious and timely distribution of fortune's good gifts is the best preparation for that final moment when we must resign them altogether.
And when life's sweet fable ends,
May soul and body part like friends;
No quarrels, murmurs, no delay—
A kiss, a sigh, and so away.”
“As Cicero said of Plato, I say of Uncle Timothy—I would rather be wrong with him than right with anybody else. One more volunteer from the Laureate's 'three yards for a penny,' and then my nest of nightingales—”
“Tom-tits! Benjamin Bosky, tom-tits!”
“Well, then, tom-tits! dear Uncle Timothy—shall go to roost for the night.”
MR. BOSKY'S L'ENVOY,=
From childhood he rear'd me, how fondly my heart
Forgets not, nor lets not my tongue silent be;
But whispers, while sweet tears of gratitude start,
A blessing and pray'r for his kindness to me!
I'll breathe not his name, though its record is deep
In my warm beating bosom, for fear he should frown,
Go read it where angels their register keep
Of the gifted and good, for 'tis there written down.
The conversation now took a more lively turn. Mr. Bosky fired off his jokes right and left; and if there be truth in physiognomy, the animated countenance of Uncle Timothy beamed with complacency and joy. He was in full song, and showered forth his wit and eloquence in glorious profusion, beauty following upon beauty. Thus another Attic hour glided imperceptibly away. The midnight chimes at length admonished us to depart. A galaxy of stars had risen in the unclouded firmament, and a refreshing air breathed around. And as we had many times during the evening filled our horns, the harvest moon had filled hers also to light us home.
CHAPTER IV.
A merry morning, Eugenio. Did not soft slumbers and pleasant dreams follow the heart-stirring lucubrations of Uncle Timothy? I am mistaken if you rose not lighter and happier, and in more perfect peace with yourself and the world.”
“My dreams were of ancient minstrelsy, Christmas gambols, May-day games, and merriments. Methought Uncle Timothy was a portly Apollo, Mr. Bosky a rosy Pan—”
“And you and I, Eugenio?”
“Foremost in the throng—”
“Of capering satyrs! Well, though our own dancing * days are over, we still retain a relish for that elegant accomplishment.
* There were rare dancing doings at The original dancing
room at the field-end of King-Street, Bloomsbury,.
in the year 1742
Hickford's great room, Panton-Street, Haymarket, 1743
Mitre Tavern, Charing-Cross, … 1743
Barber's Hall, … 1745
Richmond Assembly, … 1745
Lambeth Wells, … .1747
Duke's long room, Paternoster-Row,.. 1748
Large Assembly Room at the Two Green Lamps, near Exeter
Change, (at the particular desire of Jubilee Diekey!) … in
the year 1749 The large room next door to the Hand and
Slippers, Long-Lane, West Smithfield, … 1750 Lambeth Wells,
where a Penny Wedding, in the Scotch manner, was celebrated
for the benefit of a young couple, … … 1752 Old Queen's
Head, in Cock-Lane, Lambeth,. 1755 and at Mr. Bell's, at the
sign of the Ship, in the Strand, where, in 1755, a Scotch
Wedding was kept. The bride “to be dressed without any
linen; all in ribbons, and green flowers, with Scotch masks.
There will be three bag-pipes; a band of Scotch music, &c.
&c. To begin precisely at two o'clock. Admission, two
shillings and sixpence.”
As antiquaries, we have a reverence for dancing. Noah danced before the ark. The boar's head and the wine and wassail were crowned with a dance to the tune of 'The Black Almayne,' 'My Lorde Marques Galyarde,' and 'The firste Traces of due Passa.'
'Merrily danc'd the Quaker's wife,
And merrily danc'd the Quaker!'
Why not? Orpheus charmed the four-footed family with his fiddle: shall it have less effect on the two?
“The innocent and the happy, while the dews of youth are upon them, dance to the music of their own hearts. 'See the blind beggar dance, the cripple sing!' The Irishman has his lilt; the Scotchman his reel, which he not unfrequently dances to his own particular fiddle! and the Englishman his country-dance.
Original
With dogs and bears, horses and geese, * game-cocks and monkeys exhibiting their caprioles, shall man be motionless and mute?
* There is an odd print of “Vestris teaching a goose to
dance.” The terms, for so fashionable a professor as he was
in his day, are extremely moderate; “Six guineas entrance,