Well may the dreaming, scheming Moor Exulting point to Spain ! Well may he cleanse the rusty Key With Afric sand and oil, And hope an Andalusian home Shall recompense the toil! Well may he swear the Moorish spear Well may he vow to spurn the Cross And plant the Crescent yet again Above th' Alhambra's roof When those from whom St. Jago's name In chorus once arose, Are shouting Faction's battle-cries, And Spain forgets to "Close!" Well may he swear his ataghan Shall rout the traitor swarm, That show no human form The blame be theirs whose bloody feuds Invite the savage Moor, And tempt him with the ancient Key VOL. IX, 121 THE MASONIC SECRET. AN EXTRAVAGANZA. CHAPTER I. IT shall all out! *If it does, I'll be chisell'd!" cries a burly Mason, flourishing the very tool that gave rise to the verb. "Stop his mouth with mortar!" shouts a fellow of the association, called Free, perhaps from being associated with free-stone. "Sew it up, like a ferret's," squeaks a Cross-Legged Knight,-in common parlance a Tailor. "Pitch into him, like bricks," roars an Apprentice, of the ancient Babylonian order of Builders. "Give him a clod with your hod," bellows an Irish Labourer in the Lodge of Harmony. "Pitch him off the Mysterious Ladder!" puts in a member of the same masonry, renowned for making wooden tombstones. "Throw the lime in his eyes!" "Brain him with the mallet!" "Square at him!" "Level him!" "Dig into him with the trowel !" "Lay a first stone on him," suggests a noble Grand Master, who has officiated at such a ceremony, and is as proud by the way of laying the stone-as if he has hatched the building. "Split him!" ejaculates a Grand Warden-of course a repeal one. "Bite him!" growls a Purple Badger. "Worry him!" snarls a Blue ditto. "Let's strangle him with our apron strings" "Or give him the sledge-hammer!" puts in a Master Tyler, a descendant, of course, of the famous Wat. "Over the bridge with him--" cries a Grand Arch. "Into my barge!" shouts a Master of the Craft. "Hit him in the Temple!" says a Brother in Solomon's spectacles. "Hang him!" screams one of the "Mystic Tie." "Peek out his eyes-and reep up his sanguinary poitrine!" mutters a foreign member of the Eagle and Pelican. "Whip him with the Rod of Moses!" recommends a Jewish convertite. "Na, na; wi' the Triple Taws!" whispers a masonic Scotchman. "Stone him! stone him!" shrieks a member of the Lodge of St. Stephen. "Pitch him down the 'Winding Staircase '—" "And out of the House of Humanity beyond its Porch and Pillars!" "Beyond the Pales of Society." "And its 'Geometrical Gate,"" says the masonic keeper of that Lodge, commonly called the Porter's. "Kick him! Stick him! Bother him! Smother him! Hit him! Split him! Throttle him! Bottle him! Pound him! Confound him! Drat him! Go at him! Floor him! Score him! Scrag him! Gag him! Thrash him! Smash him! Walk into him! Run him through !"-That's plain English at any rate. "Gouge him! Tar and feather him! Lynch him! Bark him! Mark him! Chaw him up! Be worse than a bear to him, and lick him into no shape at all!"-That's American! "Boke his bipe down his windbipe !"-That's German. "Break him on one wheel! Blow his head off at one blow! A la lanterne !"-That's French. "Let him look through the little window of Saint Guillotine." "Knout him !"-That's Russian. "Cow-hide him; and let the flies blow his wounds !”That's Brazilian. "Shackle him; tackle him; barrel him up, and overboard with him!"-That's Portuguese. "Rack him! Thumb-screw him!"-That's Spanish. "Put him into the iron boots."-That's Scotch. "Poison him by instalments !"-That's Italian. "Kill him entirely; and twice over!"-That's Irish, of course. "Cut off his eyelids-boil him in oil-broil him on a gridiron-crucify him head downwards-drench him with melted lead-blow him away from a gun-starve him-roll him in a hogshead of cutlery-flay him alive-roast him at a slow fire-tear him in pieces by wild horses-give him a bed of steel-impale him-scalp him-bastinado him-cold press him-flog him-picket him—put him into solitary confinement-send him to the tread-mill-tie a tight-rope round his forehead-bake him in a brazen bull-throw him into a vault with adders and scorpions-cast him into the lion's den -bury him alive-keelhaul him-make him walk the plank !" [Merciful Heaven! How many personal inconveniences and bodily discomforts have human creatures invented for each other? What bitter draughts and cruel operations, as a set-off against the charitable prescriptions and benevolent inflictions of medicine and surgery!] "Choke him! Break his jaw! Tear his tongue out with pincers! Silence him with the poker! Stop his mouth with the table-cloth! Gag him with a red-hot respirator!" "Build him up in a wall!"-That should be the voice of a Mason, at any rate. But no matter; the Bag is my own, if the Cat isn't. I was never sworn to secresy; and so out it shall come, whoever gets clawed for it! CHAPTER II. "MERCY on us!" ejaculates Fear, his lank locks stiffening into a hair-brush, or more like a hearth-broom, his knees knocking together, his jaws clattering like castanets, and shattering every word into broken English. "Would you really dare to disclose the Free-Mason's secret? Consider what an ancient body they are-as old as Adam and Eveat least, when they wore aprons. And then such architects! some say they built the Pyramids, and Stonehenge, let alone Solomon's Temple." "Yes, as much as Mr. Pecksniff did!" "Hush! pray hush; walls have ears, you know. For my part, if there's any men I'm afraid of, it's the Free-Masons. They certainly do know more than other people. For instance, there's the toad in a hole "What, the batter-pudding?" "No; but a toad in the very middle of a block of stone or marble, where he has been for a thousand years, and as brisk as ever. How he got there, or lived so long without food, nobody knows, unless it's the Masons. Some think it's their Secret." "Then I should like to know it, for it's the cheapest style of boarding and lodging in the world." |