It would be endless for me to describe all my after voyages and travels. Suffice it to say, I have been both east and west, north and south; and there is scarcely a part of the habitable globe which I have not visited. After all, I have come to this conclusion, that there is no country like Britain. Oh! how I could wish my human existence had been in such happy times and under such glorious sovereigns as a George the Third, and George the Fourth!!!

For some years I have remained in this country, enjoying (like a patriarch of old) a quiet, regular life with my family, which now amounts to above 2,000. I, however, keep very much to my own room, as I hate bustle, and like to enjoy my own reflections.

The age to which our species can exist is not ascertained, as never one of us was known to die in his bed, at least a natural death. A kind of instinct I have always had, has as yet saved me from arsenic, stewed corks, traps, stamps, &c.; and my great strength, and a good deal of science, which is of more consequence, have, as yet, preserved me in many a deadly combat, both with my own species, and with the dog, the ferret, the weasel, the hawk, and that green-eyed monster—the cat. But I am now getting somewhat stiffer, and am not so sharp as I was. I am not—

"–qualis eram, quum primam aciem Præneste sub ipsa Stravi, scutorumque incendi victor acervos; Et regem hâc Herilum dextrâ sub Tartara misi!!"

And in some evil hour my time must come.

–I am well aware, indeed, of the fleeting existence even of this world itself, for I studied astronomy with the celebrated M. Olbers of Bremen, and assisted him in making many useful observations and discoveries, particularly regarding comets, in the course of which we came to this melancholy conclusion, that the comet which was afterwards visible in 1786 and 1795, will, in 83,000 years, approach the earth as nearly as the moon; and that in 4,000,000 years it will come to within a distance of 7,700 geographical miles;—the consequence of which will be (if its attraction be equal to that of the earth) the elevation of the waters of the ocean 13,000 feet; that is to say, above the tops of all the European mountains, except Mount Blanc. The inhabitants of the Andes and of the Himalaya mountains alone will escape this second deluge; but they will not benefit by their good fortune more than 216,000,000 years, for it is probable, that at the expiration of that time, our globe standing right in the way of the comet, will receive a shock severe enough to ensure its utter destruction!!!

Note.—After reading over the above MS., I am inclined to come to this conclusion—that our historian, while in a human form, must have been a Scottish nobleman—that he probably was born about the year 1501—and that he lived to about the age of 89.—Ed.

THE FANCY BALL

"A visor for a visor! what care I What curious eye doth quote deformities!"

SHAKSPEARE.

"You used to talk," said Miss Mac Call, "Of flowers, and flames, and Cupid; But now you never talk at all. You're getting vastly stupid. You'd better burn your Blackstone, Sir, You never will get through it; There's a Fancy Ball at Winchester— Do let us take you to it." I made that night a solemn vow, To startle all beholders: I wore white muslin on my brow, Green velvet on my shoulders— My trousers were supremely wide, I learn'd to swear "by Allah"— I stuck a poniard by my side, And called myself "Abdallah." Oh! a Fancy Ball's a strange affair, Made up of silks and leathers, Light heads, light heels, false hearts, false hair, Pins, paint, and ostrich feathers: The dullest Duke in all the town, To-night may shine a droll one— And rakes, who have not half-a-crown, Look royal with a whole one. Hail, blest Confusion! here are met All tongues, and times, and faces, The Lancers flirt with Juliet, The Bramin talks of races; And where's your genius, bright Corinne? And where your brogue, Sir Lucius? And Chinca Ti, you have not seen One chapter of Confucius. Lo! dandies from Kamschatka flirt With beauties from the Wrekin— And belles from Berne look very pert On Mandarins from Pekin; The Cardinal is here from Rome, The Commandant from Seville— And Hamlet's father from the tomb, And Faustus from the Devil. What mean those laughing Nuns, I pray, What mean they, Nun or Fairy: I guess they told no beads to-day, And sang no Ave Mary. From Mass and Matins, Priest and Pix, Barred door, and window grated, I wish all pretty Catholics Were thus emancipated. Four Seasons come to dance quadrilles, With four well-seasoned sailors— And Raleigh talks of rail-road bills, With Timon, prince of railers. I find Sir Charles of Aubyn Park Equipp'd for a walk to Mecca— And I run away from Joan of Arc, To romp with sad Rebecca. Fair Cleopatra's very plain, Puck halts, and Ariel swaggers— And Cæsar's murder'd o'er again, Though not by Roman daggers. Great Charlemagne is four feet high— Sad Stuff has Bacon spoken— Queen Mary's waist is all awry, And Psyche's nose is broken. Our happiest bride, how very odd! Is the mourning Isabella, And the heaviest foot that ever trod Is the foot of Cinderella. Here sad Calista laughs outright, There Yorick looks most grave, Sir, And a Templar waves the cross to-night, Who never cross'd the wave, Sir. And what a Babel is the talk! "The Giraffe"—"plays the fiddle"— "Macadam's roads"—"I hate this chalk"— "Sweet girl"—"a charming riddle"— "I'm nearly drunk with"—"Epsom salts"— "Yes, separate beds"—"such cronies!"— "Good heaven! who taught that man to valtz?"— "A pair of Shetland ponies." "Lord D–" "an enchanting shape"— "Will move for"—"Maraschino" "Pray, Julia, how's your mother's ape?"— "He died at Navarino!" "The gout, by Jove, is"—"apple pie"— "Don Miguel"—"Tom the tinker"— "His Lordship's pedigree's as high As –" "Whipcord, dam by Clinker." "Love's shafts are weak"—"my chestnut kicks"— "Heart broken;"—"broke the traces"— "What say you now of politics?"— "Change sides and to your places"— "A five-barred gate"—"a precious pearl" "Grave things may all be punn'd on!"— "The Whigs, thank God, are"—"out of curl!"— "Her age is"—"four by London!" Thus run the giddy hours away, Till morning's light is beaming, And we must go to dream by day All we to-night are dreaming; To smile and sigh, to love and change— Oh! in our heart's recesses, We dress in fancies quite as strange As these our fancy-dresses.

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The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction. Volume 12, No. 345, December 6, 1828

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THE FANCY BALL

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