Although my eyes are somewhat weak, Shall mark the hour with blackest coal, When old Tom Quince shall cease to see If every aiding thought is vain, When that unerring day shall come To call me, from my wandering, home, The dark, and still, and painful day, When breath shall fleet in groans away, When comfort shall be vainly sought, And doubt shall be in every thought, When words shall fail th' unutter'd vow And fever heat the burning brow, When the dim eye shall gaze, and fear Believe me! ill my dust would rest, No, while beneath his simple stone Knows how to speak, and read, and spell, My "Natus" and my " Obiit," And then, with sage discourse and long, Recite my virtues to the throng. "The Gentleman came straight from College! A most prodigious man for knowledge! He us'd to pay all men their due, Hated a miser,-and a Jew, But always open'd wide his door Good Mr. Pringle !-you must see t; And you'll allow me, Sir, to pray, The Mistake ; OR, SIXES AND SEVENS. "Be particular to observe that the name on the door is Morning Chronicle, April, 1821. It is a point which has often been advanced and contested by the learned, that the world grows worse as it grows older; arguments have been advanced, and treatises written, in support of Horace's opinion. Etas parentum pejor avis tulit The supporters of this idea rest their sentence upon various grounds; they mention the frequency of crim. con. cases, the increase of the poor-rate, the licentiousness of the press, the celebrity of rouge et noir. There is however one circumstance corroborative of their judgment, to which we think the public opinion has not yet been sufficiently called. We mean the indisputable fact, that persons of all descriptions are growing ashamed of their own names. We remember that when we were dragged in our childhood to walk with our nurse, we were accustomed to beguile our sense of weariness and disgust by studying the names, which, in their neat brass plates, decorated the doors by which we passed. Now the case is altered! We observed in a former paper that the tradesmen have removed their signs; it is equally true that the gentlemen have removed their names. The simple numerical distinction, which is now alone emblazoned upon the doors of our dwellings, but ill replaces that more gratifying custom which, in a literal sense, held up great names for our emulation, and made the streets of the metropolis a muster-roll of examples for our conduct. But a very serious inconvenience is also occasioned by this departure from ancient observances. How is the visitor from the country to discover the patron of his fortunes, the friend of his bosom, or the mistress of his heart, if in lieu of the abovementioned edifying brass plates, his eye glances upon the unsatisfactory information contained in 1, 2, or 3? In some cases even this assistance is denied to him, and he wanders upon his dark and comfortless voyage, like an ancient mariner deprived of the assistance of the stars. Our poor friend Mr. Nichol Loaming has treated us with a long and eloquent dissertation upon this symptom of degeneracy; and certainly, if the advice "experto crede" be of any weight, Mr. Nichol's testimony ought to induce all persons to hang out, upon the exterior of their residences, some more convincing enunciation of their name and calling, than it is at present the fashion to produce. Nichol came up to town with letters of introduction to several friends of his family, whom it was his first duty and wish to discover. But his first adventure so dispirited him, that after having spent two mornings at a hotel, he set out upon his homeward voyage, and left the metropolis an unexplored region. He purposed to make his first visit to Sir William Knowell, and having with some difficulty discovered the street to which he had been directed, he proceeded to investigate the doors in order to find out the object of his search. The doors presented nothing but a blank! He made inquiries; was directed to a house; heard that Sir William was at home, was shown into an empty room, and waited for some time with patience. It was The furniture of the house rather surprised him. handsomer than he had expected to find it; and on the table were the Morning Chronicle and the Edinburgh Review, although Sir William was a violent Tory. At length the door opened, and a gentleman made his appearance. Nichol asked, in a studied speech, whether he had the honour to address Sir William Knowell? The gentleman replied, that he believed there had been a little mistake, but that he was an intimate friend of Sir W. Knowell's, and expected him in the course of a few minutes. Nichol resumed his seat, although he did not quite perceive what mistake had taken place. He was unfortunately urged by his evil genius to attempt conversation. 66 He observed that Sir W. Knowell had a delightful house, and inquired whether the neighbourhood was pleasant. His next neighbour," said the stranger with a most incomprehensible smile, "is Sir William Morley." Nichol shook his head; 66 was surprised to hear Sir William kept such company,-had heard strange stories of Sir W. Morley, hoped there was no foundation,indeed had received no good report of the family!-The mother rather weak in the head,-to say the truth under confinement ;the sister a professed coquette,-went off to Gretna last week with a Scotch Officer,-Sir William himself a gambler by habit, a drunkard by inclination;—at present in the King's Bench, without the possibility of an adjustment—” Here he was stopped by the entrance of an elderly lady leaning on the arm of an interesting girl of sixteen or seventeen. Upon looking up, Nichol perceived the gentleman he had been addressing rather embarrassed; and "hoped that he had not said any thing which could give offence." Not in the least," replied the stranger, "I am more amused by an account of the foibles of Sir W. Morley than any one else can be; and of this I will immediately convince you. Sir William Knowell resides at No. Six,-you have stepped by mistake into No. Seven.-Before you leave it, allow me to introduce you to Lady Morley-who is rather weak in the head, and to say the truth under confinement ;To Miss Ellen Morley, a professed coquette, who went off to Gretna last week with a half-pay Officer;-finally," (with a very low bow) "to Sir William Morley himself, a gambler by habit and a drunkard by inclination who is at present in the King's Bench without the possibility of an adjustment!" F. G. |