Partridge sat in a fearful expectation of this; and now, when the ghost made his next appearance, Partridge cried out, "There, sir, now; what say you now? is he frightened now or no? As much frightened as you think me, and, to be sure, nobody can help some fears. I would not be in so bad a condition as what's his name, squire Hamlet, is there, for all the world. Bless me! what's become of the spirit? As I am a living soul, I thought I saw him sink into the earth." "Indeed, you saw right,” answered Jones. "Well, well," cries Partridge, "I know it is only a play: and besides, if there was anything in all this, Madam Miller would not laugh so; for as to you, sir, you would not be afraid, I believe, if the devil was here in person.-There, there-Ay, no wonder you are in such a passion, shake the vile wicked wretch to pieces. If she was my own mother, I would serve her so. To be sure all duty to a mother is forfeited by such wicked doings.-Ay, go about your business, I hate the sight of you."

Our critic was now pretty silent till the play, which Hamlet introduces before the king. This he did not at first understand, till Jones explained it to him; but he no sooner entered into the spirit of it, than he began to bless himself that he had never committed murder. Then turning to Mrs. Miller, he asked her, “If she did not imagine the king looked as if he was touched; though he is," said he, "a good actor, and doth all he can to hide it. Well, I would not have so much to answer for, as that wicked man there hath, to sit upon a much higher chair than he sits upon. No wonder he ran away; for your sake I'll never trust an innocent face again."

The grave-digging scene next engaged the attention of Partridge, who expressed much surprise at the number of skulls thrown upon the stage. To which Jones answered, "That it was one of the most famous burial-places about town." "No wonder then," cries Partridge, “that the place is haunted. But I never saw in my life a worse grave-digger. I had a sexton, when I was clerk, that should have dug three graves while he is digging one. The fellow handles a spade as if it was the first time he had ever had one in his hand. Ay, ay, you may sing. You had rather sing than work, I believe."-Upon Hamlet's taking up the skull, he cried out, "Well! it is strange to see how fearless some men are: I never could bring myself to touch anything belonging to a dead man, on any account. He seemed frightened enough too at the ghost, I thought. Nemo omnibus horis sapit."

Little more worth remembering occurred during the play, at the end of which Jones asked him, "Which of the players he had liked best?" To this he answered, with some appearance of indignation at the question, "The king, without doubt." "Indeed, Mr. Partridge," says

Mrs. Miller, "you are not of the same opinion with the town; for they are all agreed, that Hamlet is acted by the best player who ever was on the stage." "He the best player!" cries Partridge, with a contemptuous sneer, "why, I could act as well as he myself. I am sure, if I had seen a ghost, I should have looked in the very same manner, and done just as he did. And then, to be sure, in that scene, as you called it, between him and his mother, where you told me he acted so fine, why Lord help me, any man, that is, any good man, that had such a mother, would have done exactly the same. I know you are only joking with me; but indeed, madam, though I was never at a play in London, yet I have seen acting before in the country; and the king for my money; he speaks all his words distinctly, half as loud again as the other.-Anybody may see he is an actor."

Thus ended the adventure at the playhouse; where Partridge had afforded great mirth, not only to Jones and Mrs. Miller, but to all who sat within hearing, who were more attentive to what he said, than to anything that passed on the stage.

He durst not go to bed all that night, for fear of the ghost; and for many nights after sweated two or three hours before he went to sleep, with the same apprehensions, and waked several times in great horrors, crying out, "Lord have mercy upon us! there it is."

Lord Byron.
(1788-1824)

(History of Tom Jones.) (Book XVI, Chap. V. 1749.)

Satire on England and the English.

Both the short epic of "Beppo" (on Italian Life) and the long one of "Don Juan" are, either of them, chiefly satirical. Don Juan, in spite of his Spanish descent and clothing, is closely related to the poet Byron himself, who had been travelling through the same countries and cities. One of the strongest motives in "Don Juan" is Byron's hatred of the fetters of omnipotent social traditions, distinctions, customs, opinions, ideals, especially of moral cant and respectability. His hatred is sometimes that of a foreigner: we must remember that Byron, as well as Shelley and Keats, spent some of the most important years of their lives in Switzerl Italy.

From Beppo:

St. 47:

"England! with all thy faults I love thee still" I said at Calais, and have not forgot it;

I like to speak and lucubrate 1) my fill;

1) Bei Nacht arbeiten, ernstlich nachdenken.

3*

St. 48:

St. 49:

I like the government (but that is not it);
I like the freedom of the press and quill;
I like the Habeas Corpus (when we' ve got it);
I like a parliamentary debate,

Particularly when 't is not too late;

I like the taxes when they 're not too many;
I like a sea coal fire, when not too dear;
I like a beefsteak, too, as well as any;
Have no objection to a pot of beer;

I like the weather, when it is not rainy,
That is I like two months of every year.
And so God save the Regent, Church, and King!
Which means that I like all and everything.

Our standing army and disbanded seamen,
Poor's rate, Reform, my own, the nation's debt,
Our little riots just to show we are free men,
Our trifling bankruptcies in the Gazette,
Our cloudy climate, and our chilly women,
All these I can forgive, and those forget,
And greatly venerate our recent glories,
And wish they were not owing to the Tories.

From Don Juan:
X, St. 65:

St. 66:

St. 67:

At length they 2) rose, like a white wall along
The blue sea's border; and Don Juan felt--
What even young strangers feel a little strong
At the first sight of Albion's chalky belt-
A kind of pride that he should be among
Those haughty shopkeepers, who sternly dealt
Their goods and edicts out from pole to pole,
And made the very billows pay them toll.

I've no great cause to love that spot of earth,
Which holds what might have been the noblest nation;
But though I owe it little but my birth,

I feel a mix'd regret and veneration
For its decaying fame and former worth.
Seven years (the usual term of transportation)
Of absence lay one's old resentments level,
When a man's country's going to the devil.

Alas! could she but fully, truly know
How her great name is now throughout abhorred;
How eager all the earth is for the blow

Which shall lay bare her bosom to the sword;

2) The chalk cliffs of the English coast.

XI, St. 45:

St. 50:

XII, St. 82:

St. 83:

How all the nations deem her their worst foe,
That worse than worst of foes, the once adored
False friend, who held out freedom to mankind,
And now would chain them to the very mind.

In the great world,-which, being interpreted,
Meaneth the west or worst end of the city,
And about twice two thousand people bred
By no means to be wise or witty,

But to sit up while others lie in bed,

And look down on the universe with pity,--
Juan, as an inveterate patrician,

Was well received by persons of condition.

The Blues, that tender tribe, who sigh o'er sonnets, And with the pages of the last Review

Line the interior of their heads or bonnets,

Advanced in all their azure's highest hue;

They talked bad French or Spanish, and upon its
Late authors ask'd him for a hint or two;
And which was softest, Russian or Castilian?
And whether in his travels he saw Ilion?

He also had been busy seeing sights-
The Parliament and all the other houses;
Had sat beneath the gallery at nights,

To hear debates whose thunder roused (not rouses)
The world to gaze upon those northern lights
Which flash'd as far as where the musk-bull browses;
He had also stood at times behind the throne-
But Grey was not arrived, and Chatham gone.

He saw, however, at the closing session,
That noble sight, when really free the nation,
A king in constitutional possession

Of such a throne as is the proudest station,
Though despots know it not-till the progression
Of freedom shall complete their education.
Tis not mere splendour makes the show august
To eye and heart-it is the people's trust!

Charles Dickens.

(1812-1860)

The Eatans will Election.

Those documents of the Pickwick Club supposed to have been merely edited by Charles Dickens were originally intended to relate the adventures of a sporting Cockney (i. e. native of London). A series of pictures was to be the chief attraction of the publication. But Dickens created his fame by his splendid rendering of Cockney fun and humour in amusing conversations and ridiculous situations, and perhaps still more by the characters of the dignified and kindly Mr. Pickwick, the spectacled president of the club, and his clever servant, the inimitable Sam Weller. Sefton Delmer compares this amusing couple to Don Quichote and his servant Sancho Panza.

The noise and bustle which ushered in the morning were sufficient to dispel from the mind of the most romantic visionary in existence, any associations but those which were immediately connected with the rapidly-approaching election. The beating of drums, the blowing of horns and trumpets, the shouting of men, and tramping of horses echoed and re-echoed through the streets from the earliest dawn of day; and an occasional fight between the light skirmishers of either party, at once enlivened the preparations, and agreeably diversified their character..........

The stable-yard exhibited unequivocal symptoms of the glory and strength of the Eatanswill Blues. There was a regular army of blue flags, some with one handle, and some with two, exhibiting appropriate devices, in golden characters four feet high, and stout in proportion. There was a grand band of trumpets, bassoons, and drums, marshalled four abreast, and earning their money, if ever men did, especially the drum beaters, who were very muscular. There were bodies of constables with blue staves, twenty committee-men with blue scarfs, and a mob of voters with blue cockades. There were electors on horseback, and electors afoot. There was an open carriage and four, for the honourable Samuel Slumkey; and there were four carriages and pair, for his friends and supporters; and the flags were rustling, and the band was playing, and the constables were swearing, and the twenty committee-men were squabbling, and the mob were shouting, and the horses were backing, and the post-boys perspiring; and everybody, and everything, then and there assembled, was for the special use, behoof, honour, and renown, of the honourable Samuel Slumkey, of Slumkey Hall, one of the candi