At last the party arrived upon the field. There is something somewhat nervous when a combatant casts his eyes upon the ground which may shortly take his measure; Commodus Cannon could not help heaving a deep sigh when he thought of his once tranquil fireside at Wick-hall, and looked upon his son Corney, of whom he shortly might be bereaved. The fumes of champaign were beginning to evaporate, and leave the brain clear for more sober impressions; but Comte des Oripeaux assisted him to a little cognac : the old gentleman coughed, shook himself, and, stretching out his trembling hand to his son, exclaimed with a faltering voice, which he in vain sought to strengthen, "Corney, my boy, behave like a man-like an Englishman!" They soon discovered their adversaries: La Tulipe had thrown off his coat, and tied a yellow handkerchief round his head, which, contrasted with his black grisly whiskers and beard, gave him an unearthly appearance: he had stuck four swords in the ground, and was pacing up and down like a warrior of old on the eve of knighthood; his companion, with a cigar in his mouth, and an old pasteboard spy-glass cocked to his eye, was on the look-out for the enemy's approach. And now sadder thoughts crowded on old Cannon's sensorium, ay, on his very pineal gland, in which portion of the brain Descartes very properly lodged the soul,-a little insignificant gland, oftentimes choked with earthy matter that would check the growth of any good, and, moreover, of no apparent use or benefit to the wearer, in this world at least. The triumphant column of Napoleon stood before him,-monument of glory and death, ambition and misery: the day was dark and windy; black clouds were flitting in rapid scuds over the pillar, casting it in gloom, or emitting a faint sunbeam to shed a transient lustre on its destinies; it was now a commemorative record of the Bourbons' return!-in short, the scene around him spoke a very De profundis—when he was roused from his absorption by the loud voice of La Tulipe, who, having snatched an enormous sabre out of mother earth's bosom, bellowed out, "En garde, Jean Bull!" as he threw himself into a terrific tragic and melodramatic posture,- -one and the same thing in the present classic state of the drama. The Dragon of Wantley must have been a mere child's bugaboo to him; he would have staggered the very Moore of Moore Hall, despite the "thing on his foot ;" no wonder, then, that all the Cannons pointed their countenances at each other, I shall not say in terror,-they came from Shropshire,-but in instinctive amaze, ment. Not so with their friend the Frenchman, Comte des Oripeaux; he drew out his "lorgnon," suspended round his neck by a pie-bald chain of black and fair hair, and calmly requested the ferocious gymnasticator to put up his sword and prepare his pistols. The injunction, sternly delivered, acted like magic; the vapouring bully attempted to explain-to discuss the point; talked of un brave insulté, un soldat Français, le choix des armes. The Count insisted, M. de la Balafre assured him they had no pistols; the Count persisted, and at last he drew forth from a leathern bag a brace of old persuaders,one of which, from its length, might have been taken for a baby of the Egyptian culverin in the Park,-exclaiming with a shrug of humility, "Nous n'avons que ça," which in plain English meant to say, "We can't afford to shoot people with anything better." Now the pride of England was very properly roused at such a miserable pettifogging subterfuge; for no gentleman can be possibly expected to give satisfaction to any person unable to pay at least fiveand-twenty guineas for a pair of Mantons, and Cornelius Cannon felt at that moment such a proper spirit of superiority, that rather than submit to the degrading thought of exposing himself to the muzzle of a vulgar, rusty "marking-iron," that a highwayman's groom in former days would not have carried, he drew himself up like a true-born Briton, opened his splendid case of "Eggs," and, pointing to the highly finished weapons with pride, exclaimed with a becoming contemptuous look, "Je suis pardessus prendre un malpropre avantage de cet homme pauvre." Now Cornelius meant this in all the warmth of a generous heart, and really intended to call his antagonist a 'poor man" without any illiberal allusion to his poverty but his unfortunate application of the adjective bore a different construction; and, had the pioneer been even poorer than he actually was, he would have prided himself on his rusty old pistol, as much as any gay and gallant cavalier of former days on one of the most elaborate suits of Benvenuto Cellini, and roaring out, "Vas, chien de boutiquier; si je n'ai pas d'or, j'ai du plomb.Sacré Nom!" he foamed, kicked, and loaded his pistol with such determination and fury, that he seemed resolved to fire away pistol and all; and took his ground. 66 Cornelius was equally rapid in his movements, scarcely giving time to his father to shake hands with him, perhaps for the last time. The Count was to give the signal of one, two, three. By one, Commodus had engulphed a draught of brandy; at two, he put his hand to his face, and turned his back to the approaching horrible scene; at three, a terrific shout followed the report of fire-arms, and Cornelius Cannon was struck with terror, not in beholding himself, but his worthy father and his ferocious antagonist stretched upon the ground. SONNET TO FRIENDSHIP. An! who can tell what joy it is to meet The friend whom Fate hath sever'd for long years; Is in its silence eloquent; the wrong OLD NICHOLAS. TWO OF A TRADE. A FRESH Mohamedan, transferred at once from his own country to ours without the intervention of any other land, is a most pleasant object of observation. Every thing to him must be new; language, manners, modes of life, buildings, climate, mode of conveyance, men, women,-every thing must be new. He leaves regions where the face of woman is not permitted to be seen abroad, and where her person stalks about in disguise; and arrives in a country where we need not say how much she is seen. It is as much as his life is worth to be observed talking to her in his own streets; here he finds the sexes in a most promiscuous state. Then, his fellow men are so different to his own countrymen !-here, active, alert, busy; there, inert, passive, and indifferent to every thing but their own individual welfare. He has always been accustomed to sit on the ground; here all are mounted upon chairs. No medium has he ever known between himself and his food but his own fingers; now he must cut, and thrust, and pitchfork it, if he wish to do like the rest of the world. Then, what a world of carriages, carts, and conveyances of every sort,-things he has never seen before! None of his dear camels to greet his eye, none of their philosophical faces and grave motions; all is hurry-scurry, running, pushing, and tearing about, as if no one dared to stop, not even for a moment. He falls into the middle of a multitude as ignorant of him and his belongings as he is of theirs. Every man with a long beard, a turban, and floating robes, is a Turk in their eyes, be he Persian, Tatar, Georgian, or Affghan; be he Syrian, Egyptian, or African. Then, what a host of miseries he has to endure before he settles down into new habits! Here he bids adieu to his beloved sun-that constant friend and promoter of cheerfulness, in lieu of which he inhales an atmosphere denser than the steam of his hummum. 'Tis true, if he pleases to be lax, he gets rid of his prayers five times a day, his genuflexions, and dispenses with the prescribed lustrations. But, on the other hand, he has been taught from his infancy to look upon all infidels as unclean; and, when he touches and eats with one, he feels that he is providing for himself much penance and mortification. Then, what does he not undergo concerning his food? Has the chicken he is called upon to eat, bled in the proper way? Has the sheep, of which he is eating the mutton, had its throat cut? Is there no infusion of the unclean beast in his soup? He meets with none of his beloved pillaus, is refreshed by none of his delicious sherbets, and never sees that one source of his comfort, a chibouk or a kalian! He has to undergo an entirely new education, and must submit to be laughed at, and stared at, and criticised, and cross-questioned from night till morn;- for an Englishman has no compromise to make with his national feelings and prejudices. We have made these observations because it is our intention to submit a short sketch of matters relating to Orientals, who were in London some seventeen years ago, to the notice of our readers. It so happens that we are acquainted with the gentleman who had the care (the mehmandar, as he was called,) of the last Persian embassy to England. He had lived in Persia, was acquainted with the lan guage, and had acquired an insight into the manners and customs of the people. It was his good fortune to witness many most amusing scenes during the residence of that embassy in London, which brought into strong contrast the manners of England and of the East. Beginning with the ambassador himself, swelling with his own importance, and with the conviction of the superiority of his own Shah over any other king; and proceeding down to the lowest groom, who eyed every English horse as dirt, compared with his own quadrupeds; he found the task of defeating prejudice and producing subservience as difficult as it was amusing. The sketch we have to make, is connected with the loves of the barber of his Persian excellency's establishment. The first outbreak of the romance took place one morning when the mehmandar was seated at breakfast in his lodgings, when his servant informed him that a person wished to speak to him. Supposing it to be one of the numerous applicants he was daily in the habit of seeing on business relating to the embassy, he immediately desired him to walk up; but, when the individual appeared, he saw one whom he had never seen before. He was rather an imposing personage to look at, for he was handsomely dressed in a cloak and tassels, and his head was adorned with a glossy wig, adjusted with the greatest precision to a face no longer young. He was in his person an illustration of that often-repeated saying, that there is only one step between the sublime and the ridiculous; for he was a something between George the Fourth and Liston, and he was that step. was difficult to decide, upon so superficial a survey, to what class of society he belonged. The mehmandar offered him a chair, pressed him to sit, and then requested to know to what he owed the honour of his visit, saying, It "Are you come upon any business in which I can be of use?" "Hi ham," answered the stranger, " and my name is Slocomb." By the magic of these profound aspirates he became immediately informed of what he wished to discover, and straightway put himself in an attitude to give a patient hearing to Mr. Slocomb. We will spare the reader Mr. Slocomb's deviations from the usual mode of pronunciation, as well as his variations upon grammar, concluding that he is not too refined to understand our vulgar tongue; we therefore beg of him to take it for granted that wherever an h, or a w, or a v, were to be misplaced, Mr. Slocomb was sure to misplace them. May I trouble you to inform me of the object of your visit?" said the mehmandar. "Sir," said Mr. Slocomb, with a most emphatic look, and endeavouring to fish up from the depths of his understanding an opening sentence, which he intended for dazzling eloquence," Sir, I must apologise for intruding upon your valuable time; but, having been informed that you are the gentleman as does for the Persian ambassador, I make bold to unfold my case to you. The object of my visit is a delicate object. You see before you a man who doesn't know which way to turn. I'm a professional man, and in a delicate position, for I am a great perfumer, a first-rate wig-maker, and cuts hair,- that's what I do. I keep a large, respectable, and I may say elegant establishment, in a shop that shows as large and as grand a bow-window as any in London, though I says it. It's a corner house in one of the greatest thoroughfares in the metro polis, (and here he named the street,) and I must freely own that I am proud of my premises, and the way they look down both streets, cutting them at right-angles, as one may say." "Well, sir; but the object of your visit?" said the mehmandar, beginning to show symptoms of impatience. "I am coming to that, sir," said Mr. Slocomb; "for all this is connected with the main object. I was sitting in my back-room in my usual way, waiting for a head to cut,-for they come in quite promiscuous, when Mrs. Slocomb was in the shop, and our daughter Nancy all ready dressed to help,-for we like to be genteel both in and out, when who should come in but one of your Persians with his interpreter, for he told us what the other said. Mrs. S. immediately called out to me, not being up to such rum customers; so, as soon as I came, the interpreter said very civilly that his companion was chief hair-dresser to his excellency, and, seeing that I was one of the craft, had called to see me; and then he looked at some of our soap, of which he said his master was very fond. Well, thinks I, this is a good job if I can be made perfumer to his excellency, and stick his name over my door; so you may believe, sir, how civil I was. I did help him to soap, and I made him smell every cake in the shop, so anxious was I to do the civil thing. He looked at every thing, but particularly at our daughter Nancy; for -although I say it, who should not,-she is as pretty a creature as one would wish to see." "Ho, ho! a love business, is it?" exclaimed the mehmandar. Stop a bit, sir," continued Mr. Slocomb, "and you shall see. Well, sir, he came a second and a third time; and every time he came, although he smelt our soap, yet he looked in fact at our daughter. He could not at first say a word of English, yet he very soon picked up a few phrases; and it is quite surprising, at last, how well he made himself understood. There was one word, however, which he kept constantly saying, which quite overpowered Mrs. S.'s delicacy and made our Nancy look queer, and that was belly,' he was always repeating belly, belly,' until we found out that it was only his way of saying 'yes' in his own tongue. So he kept for ever coming, until it went from bad to worse, when the neighbours would talk, and Nancy began to look pale; and so, having really smelt the rat, we want to know what to do, for we are at a loss. It won't do to lose a good customer; and, if he is a gentleman and a respectable man in his country, we wouldn't lose a good husband for our daughter. It is as plain as daylight that he is regularly courting the girl; and now, sir, I beg leave to ask you whether you know anything of this man, and whether you would recommend us to encourage his addresses, or on the contrary." "I tell you what, sir," said the mehmandar, "it is my honest opinion that you had better tie a millstone round your daughter's neck and throw her into the Thames, than allow her to marry any Persian, be he who he may." "Indeed!" exclaimed the astounded perfumer, almost starting from the ground as these startling words issued from the mehmandar's mouth. "Well, bless me! but that is surprising! What will Mrs. Slocomb say? You surprise me." "Order your daughter never to see this Persian again, and I'll take care that he shall not molest her more," said the mehmandar. |