"ONCE more," said Jerome, "I'll run up and see Had arriv'd below, with a freight so queer, For he saw, when nearer he explor'd, 1 Witness his well known pun on the name of his adversary, Vigilantius, whom he calls facetiously Dormitantius, 2 The suspicion attached to some of the early Fathers of being Arians in their doctrine would appear to derive some confirmation from this passage. a The wig, which had so long formed an essential part of the dress of an English bishop, was at this time beginning to be dispensed with. "A sign of the times, I plainly see," Said the Saint to himself as, pondering, he Sail'd off in the death-boat gallantly. Arriv'd on earth, quoth he, "No more "I'll affect a body, as before; " For I think I'd best, in the company "Of Spiritual Lords, a spirit be, "And glide, unseen, from See to See." But oh! to tell what scenes he saw,It was more than Rabelais' pen could draw. For instance, he found Ex-t-r, Soul, body, inkstand, all in a stir,For love of God? for sake of King? For good of people?-no such thing; But to get for himself, by some new trick, A shove to a better bishoprick. 66 Though I own I should like, before I go, "To see for once (as I'm ask❜d below "If really such odd sights exist) "A regular six-fold Pluralist." Just then he heard a general cry"There's Doctor Hodgson galloping by!" "Ay, that's the man," says the Saint," to follow," And off he sets, with a loud view-hollo, At Hodgson's heels, to catch, if he can, A glimpse of this singular plural man. But, talk of Sir Boyle Roche's bird! 6 To compare him with Hodgson is absurd. "Which way, sir, pray, is the doctor gone?""He is now at his living at Hillingdon." And-in short-eels were born to be treated just Of a few good combustible Lords of "the Club;" They would fume, in a trice, the Whig cholera 'Tis the same with these Irish,—who're odder fish away, And there's B-cky would burn like a barrel of Your tender Whig heart shrinks from using them bub. still, ill; I, myself, in my youth, ere I came to get wise, How R-d-n would blaze! and what rubbish Used, at some operations, to blush to the eyes;— throw out! A volcano of nonsense, in active display; While V-ne, as a butt, amidst laughter, would spout The hot nothings he's full of, all night and all day. But, in fact, my dear brother,— if I may make bold Must torture live Pats for the general good, And then, for a finish, there's C-mb-d's Duke,— You're a juvenile performer, but once you begin, You can't think how fast you may train your hand in : And (smiling) who knows but old Tory may take to the shelf, With the comforting thought that, in place and in pelf, He's succeeded by one just as-bad as himself? Dr. Whig (looking flattered). — Why, to tell you the truth, I've a small matter here, Having gotten, besides the old Nine's inspiration, While yet but a babe in his cradle he lay, Which you help'd me to make for my patient last Just so round our Ov-rt-n's cradle, no doubt, year,Tenth ducklings and chicks were seen flitting about; [Goes to a cupboard and brings out Goose embryos, waiting their doom'd decimation, Came, shadowing forth his adult destination, a strait waistcoat and gag. And such rest I've enjoy'd from his raving since And small, sucking tithe-pigs, in musical droves, then, Announc'd the Church poet whom Chester approves. That I have made up my mind he shall wear it again. Dr. Tory (embracing him). — Oh, charming! My dear Doctor Whig, you're a treasure. Next to torturing myself, to help you is a pleasure. [Assisting Dr. Whig. Give me leave-I've some practice in these mad machines; O Horace! when thou, in thy vision of yore, swan, + Little thought'st thou such fate could a poet befall, There-tighter- the gag in the mouth, by all Without any effort of fancy, at all; Let's run o'er the items;- there's Justification, Predestination, and Supererogation, Not forgetting Salvation and Creed Athanasian, Till we reach, at last, Queen Bess's Ratification. That's sufficient-now, sign-having read quite enough, You "believe in the full and true meaning thereof?" (Boy stares.) Oh, a mere form of words, to make things smooth and brief, A commodious and short make-believe of belief, Which our Church has drawn up, in a form thus articular, To keep out, in general, all who're particular. But what's the boy doing? what! reading all through, And my luncheon fast cooling!—this never will do. Boy (poring over the Articles.)— Here are points which-pray, Doctor, what's "Grace of Congruity?" Doctor P. (sharply). - You'll find out, young sir, when you've more ingenuity. At present, by signing, you pledge yourself merely, Which, I'm told, is a very tough morsel, indeed; Doctor P. (aside).- Ay, and so would I, will ingly, too, All confounded particular young boobies, like you. This comes of Reforming!-all's o'er with our land, When people wo'n't stand what they can't understand; Nor perceive that our ever-rever'd Thirty-Nine Were made, not for men to believe, but to sign. [Exit Dr. P. in a passion. LATE TITHE CASE. But for Holy Church's future heirs, Thou, too, L-ndy of L-ck-ngt-n! One grain of musk, it is said, perfumes "Sic vos non vobis." 1833. "The Vicar of B-mh-m desires me to state that, in consequence of the passing of a recent Act of Parliament, he is compelled to adopt measures which may by some be considered harsh or precipitate; but, in duty to what he owes to his successors, he feels bound to preserve the rights of the vicarage." Letter from Mr. S. Powell, August 6. No, not for yourselves, ye reverend men, 1 Fourteen agricultural labourers (one of whom received so little as six guineas for yearly wages, one eight, one nine, another ten guineas, and the best paid of the whole not more than 187. annually) were all, in the course of the autumn of 1832, served with demands of tithe at the rate of 4d. in the 17. Which made them heads most fit to be Stuck up on a University, Which yearly hatches, in its schools, Lying N. N. E. of the Land of Sense, And seldom bless'd with a glimmer thence. And the sun looks simpering down on all. Oh, 'tisn't in tongue or pen to trace The scenes I saw in that joyous place. There were Lords and Ladies sitting together, In converse sweet, "What charming weather! — "You'll all rejoice to hear, I'm sure, "Lord Charles has got a good sinecure; "And the Premier says, my youngest brother "(Him in the Guards) shall have another. "Isn't this very, very gallant!. "As for my poor old virgin aunt, "Who has lost her all, poor thing, at whist, "We must quarter her on the Pension List." Thus smoothly time in that Eden roll'd; It seem'd like an Age of real gold, Where all who lik'd might have a slice, So rich was that Fool's Paradise. But the sport at which most time they spent, As large as life, who rose to prose, And many more such things I saw In this Eden of Church, and State, and Law; Such flights of young Elysian fools. Thus all went on, so snug and nice, THE RECTOR AND HIS CURATE; OR, ONE POUND TWO. "I trust we shall part, as we met, in peace and charity. My last payment to you paid your salary up to the 1st of this month. Since that, I owe you for one month, which, being a long month, of thirty-one days, amounts, as near as I can calculate, to six pounds eight shillings. My steward returns you as a debtor to the amount of SEVEN POUNDS TEN SHILLINGS FOR CON-ACRE-GROUND, which leaves some trifling balance in my favour." - Letter of Dismissal from the Rev. Marcus Beresford to his Curate, the Rev. T. A. Lyons. |