CHANGES OF HOME.

BY ROBERT JOHNSTON F

"THESE lines, from the pen of a young Irish gentleman, written on visiting the hall of his ancestors, possess, I think, more than common merit. Will MAGA give them a place?'-NoTE TO THE EDITOR.

1.

I STOOD in the old, ancestral hall:
The comrades of youth had fled;

Green mould was on the tarnished wall,
And my thoughts were of the dead:

I looked around for some friendly face
I had known in other days,

But none descried in that lonely place
To glad my longing gaze.

II.

The towers with ivy were over-grown,
And weeds round the portal grew;
Moss lay deep on the threshold-stone,
And the chambers were wet with dew.
I lean on my staff, of friends bereft,
With trembling head and hands,
Though long ago those towers I left
To journey in distant lands.

III.

My elder brother in war was slain,
Transfixed by a foeman's spear;

His bones bleach now on the sandy plain,
The warrior's dismal bier.

The youngest slumbers beneath the wave
Far off, amid Indian isles;

On the deep sea-green of his watery grave
The Sun of the Tropic smiles.

IV.

My parents long were left alone,
Then fled to a shadowy land;
And I remain, the only one
Of a happy household-band.
My kindred-all—are swept away,
Like a vision they have passed
And I, like a lonely column, stay
In the midst of a desert vast!

Sketch-Book of Me, Meister Karl.

IN WHICH THE AUTHOR, AFTER BEING RUDELY AROUSED FROM HIS HAPPY DREAM OF PLEASING
OTHER PEOPLE BY HIS GOSSIP, BURSTS INTO AN IMPERIAL PASSION, AND VOWS
TO WRITE TO SUIT HIMSELF.

HINCULUS, dinculus, trinculus,
Holy boly bum;

The Latin for chain is VINCULUS:
Inspiratus sum.'

REV. MR IRVING'S EXPOSITION OF HIS DOCTRINES

MOST admirable auditors, most reasonable readers, and paragonically pansophical patrons!

In the spring of the year, when business is looking up; when hyacinths and other bulbs sprout in the gardens; when the voice of the pigeon is heard trolling on the stable-roof, and that of the ice-cream darkey along the sunny street; when ladies, resuming their long-abandoned sun-shades, slide serenely along the side-walks, in the imminent risk of being splashed by the gutteral torrents which, shaking off the icy shackles of winter, bound merrily along; when woollen is at a discount, and panamas and fine linen at a premium, and men lay aside the tristifications, meditations, and melancholies, which the fogs, frosts, and frigidities of winter have engendered; then, I say, it becomes the duty of every free spirit to second and assist the progress of the natural spring, by exciting in the minds of others a mental primavera of merriment and jollity. Which may be effected by means of paragrams, which are puns; by gaudrioles, which are gayeties; by facetia, which are funniæ; by jocosities, which are jokes; and finally, and most excellently, by stories, which, as you all know, are yarns; not to mention gossip, chat, fiddle-faddle, and small talk generally. I, therefore, in virtue of my office of Fun-Finder and Flibbertigibbet-General, after having thrown my spirit into a mirific ecstasy of quintessential inspiration by beating all manner of bizarre burlesquerie on the drum of deviltry, and fifing at least fifty high-faluting fantasies on the mirliton of imagination, have finally, as you all know, excogitated, matagrabolized, and perfected, id est, translated, or overset this series of chapters with which you are now occupied, from the language of my own brain, into this our English of the nineteenth century.

And I was diddling and dancing along (innocent child that I was) in a good humor with every body, and supposing every body to be in a good humor with me. And as no fraction of the production has been elaborated, conglutinated, or perfected without incurring a great expense in tobacco, soda-water, and other articles essential to the production of a good work, I thought by such magnanimous liberality to conciliate the minds of all who know me.

But woe is me! I have been run off the track and thrown into a rage.

A lordly rage, a glorious rage, a cardinal rage; a crimson-plush rage,

deeply colored and dyed in the wool; an exquisite rage; a rage in which all wrathful and diabolical sentiments were concentrated and consonated into a trebly-distilled elixir of spite. A rage, in short, too good for a common person, and highly becoming an irreclaimable pirate, or an old and irritable vampire. I envied Vert Vert's rich profanity, which was

such that

'No ancient devil,

Plunged to the chin when burning hot
Into a holy water-pot,

Could so blaspheme, or fire a volley
Of oaths so dire and melancholy.'

This rage, O dearly beloved! was provoked by the wretched, the abominable insinuations of certain persons, who strove to withhold me from proceeding farther with this undertaking: I, who was endeavoring to do all in my power to aid mankind; I, who was, like the blind old man of Scio's rocky isle, toiling incessantly at the midnight lamp, that I might give to posterity a chart and compass which should aid them in unrolling the trackless waste of history! And yet these creatures, rising as it were like crocodiles from the marshes of antiquity, armed with a weapon which should lay waste with fire and sword the soul of the author, said to me: The thing won't do; the public won't stand such a work, Walker. Fiddle-sticks! give it up; better not; 'tis n't the thing; no go; pshaw! now let me persuade you. Ah bah! Vain child, thy fond pursuits forbear. Pooh!!!'

So that at last, in sheer despair, and out of pure masculine rage, at hearing the taste of his public thus calumniated, the Courier rose, and, foaming, bade them all incontinently forth to the devil, which they (in Indian file) did accordingly.

And when they return, you shall be furnished, my children, with a New Vision of Hell, à la Quevedo. And return they will, for it would be rank cancannerie and scandalum magnatum to suppose that Satan, father of lies though he be, and consequently of all blague and gas, would ever endure such abominably execrable and execrably abominable stultiloquence.

Oh that I could get an audience, or a class of readers, after my own heart!

Oh that all the fair women who, in this season of sun-light and flowers, promenade in parasolled perfection along Broadway, the Avenue, Chestnut or Walnut-street, were here assembled together! Oh that I knew a way to bring thousands and tens of thousands around me! Or, oh (since at present heels are more interesting than heads) that the Divinity of Dancing would teach me a tremendous, astonishing, confounding, overpowering novelty in her line; something which should drive the waltz to the wall, palsy the polka into pallid imperfection, and mash the Mazourka to nichts! Then might I hope to assemble legions of delicate, creamy, rosy, proud-eyed American beauties.

Nor should the beaux be absent. Every gentleman who wears a correct coat and passable manners; in short, who dates from the kingdom of gloves, should have the fullest, fairest leave to enter. (I cry for no man's love.) Every chacun should sit by his chacune, id est, every Paul Theodore should possess in peace his Louisa Maria.

Nothing short of such a revelation, dear friends, would ever bring the beauty and chivalry of our cities together, (I mean en masse.) But the great coming dance, which is to crown with glory the Korponay or Cellarius yet unborn, is still being hopped or capered in all its normal, unpolished imperfection, by Illyrian or Tartar savages.

"Then, Mr. Courier, you would become Professor of the Terpsichorean Art?'

'Not exactly, my dove! I would expound its principles (as two French abbes have already done) in a lecture.'

And your ultimate object in assembling this throng of nobility and beauty?"

'To obtain a class of readers of one caste, with a single and similar class of tastes. For it is so much less trouble when you know what your readers really want, and it is an easy matter to post up on a single item. In the instance alluded to, a refined voluple, a trebly-distilled elegance, extracted from velvet and gas-light, maraschino and white kids, perfumed boudoirs, opera-tickets, love, kisses and romance, should characterize my efforts, and enchant my patronesses.'

That, Signore Corriero,' quoth the dove, 'were a singular way to explain your views.'

Extraordinary subjects, my friend, are to be illustrated in an extraordinary manner; as the Professor remarked when he drew the angles and curves of the soul upon a green board with yellow chalk.'

But, ah miserable! Instead of pleasing one class, the Courier must please all. Not only the ladies and cavaliers, but the high and low, the great and small, the fierce democracy, the unterrified multitude; the superb and lordly corps redactoral, or editorial, whose smiles are sweetness and whose frown is death; the plumbers and glaziers, the chemists and medici (quorum pars fui, of whom I was,) the jurists and philosophers, (of whom I am,) the clergy, (of whom I was to have been, ought to have been, and will yet be: on revient toujours à son premier amour;') fiddlers, gentlemen-students, bankers, opera-girls, Jakeys, authoresses, milliners, dandies, and thieves.

Auctioneers and governesses, sculptors, bar-keepers, tinkers, fishermen, artists, authors, actors, hair-dressers, dog-fanciers, and poets. Now let him please the many-headed who can! I'll none of it. These Tramps, Trudges, and Travels of the Courier shall accordingly be written to suit the taste of no other than that self-same modest and deserving individual, the Courier himself; subject only from time to time to the censorship and revision of his reserved little friend, already twice addressed as 'Dove.'

Therefore, console and comfort yourselves, my readers who are to be, with the reflection that, though my treasury be not particularly devoted to your views, tastes, or interests, it will not be one whit better adapted to the tastes of your friends, enemies, or rivals, as the case may be. Those among you, however, who are naturally gifted with proud, lofty souls, fine feelings, delicate sentiments, looking down in sorrow, not in anger, upon the herd of grovelling outsiders, and who may happen to know, though the world do not, that you are, after all, not exactly of a piece with it, will have some sympathy (won't you?) with an author who

proposes conducting a work according to the haut volée, or high-flung, marble-majestic, icy-isolation system of utter independence. You will applaud the efforts of one who, in this too generally degenerate generation, has resolved to 'go in and win,' though the cruel hand of destiny, as the Pentamerone remarks, should spread so much soap on the stairs of his fortune as to make him slip from top to bottom. With these words, gentlemen and ladies, I take my leave, firmly resolved to carry out these principles, and adhere to this system of tactics, until the next rain-and as much longer as convenience may dictate.

Cries from the audience: 'Hurrah! bravo! bravo!! Go on! da capo, bis, ENCORE!'

*

*

(A tattered cloak may cover a good drinker.'-LORD BACON.)

'My friends, overpowered with conflicting emotions, I would suggest a simultaneous and peremptory conclusion. The sheet is nearly out, my gold-pen unmanageable, and the devil clamorous for copy. Breviter loquitur qui bene loquitur,' saith Merlinus Coccaius; which, interpreted, signifieth that a short horse is soon curried, a little mouth quickly kissed, and the path to paradise laid out without a bend. And having begun with stating my ultimate object, let me conclude by teaching you the A B C of my book, which is simply: A, all of you; B, buy; C, copies!'

Here the Courier steps into a shell chariot, accompanied by two beautifully-rouged ballet-girls, effectually disguised as angels, and followed by a song singing itself,' (subject of said song,' Woman, the ineffable vignette of sentiment.') Band strikes up 'JENNY LIND POLKA.' Audience, in an ecstasy of delight, give vent to their emotions by countless cheers, whoops, yells, hurrahıs, squalls, and cries. Twenty-five dozen wreaths and sixty-four bouquets are thrown upon the stage; also apples, potatoes, turnips, and other productions of the Philadelphia market. A youth in the third tier casts, with remarkable accuracy, a liver and lights upon the head of an ancient enemy in the parterre, which feat is rapturously applauded by several young ladies of said youth's acquaintance. (General row up stairs.) The élite of the dress-circle depart, highly gratified with the Courier, and sadly shocked at the behavior of the unilluminated youth in the Paradise above. The lights are extinguished, on s'ésquive, and a Chestnut-street darkness ensues.

SCENE: MAHOMET'S PARADISE; FIDLDER'S GREEN and the ABBEY OF THELEME discovered through distant vistas R and L. All of the company and readers generally seen seated very comfortably, waited on by angels, houris, peris, and other nice creatures, including Hebes, Nymphs, etc. WOLF in a beatific ecstasy catches one of the latter in his arms, and sings with a tremendous voice and superhuman chorus, to the music of the spheres: