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gust of wind; and when the clouds of Autumn withheld their accustomed tribute, she did not forget to water them. Summer and winter, day and night, sun-shine and rain, were all alike to Deva: she appeared equally insensible to each, as she sat upon a stone, which her own hand had placed at the head of the grave, and sang her favourite. and never varying ditty of
GALLANT WALTER SELE.
O'er Walter's bed, no foot shall tread,-
This little mound encircles round
A heart that once could feel, For none possess'd a varmer breast, Than gallant Walter Sele.
The primrose pale from Dyfrain vale,
The sweet thyme shall conceal,
........" MY grandfather was a bold dragoon, for it's a profession, d'ye see,that has run in the family. All my forefathers have been dragoons and died upon the field of honour except myself, and I hope my posterity may be able to say the same; however, I don't mean to be vainglorious. Well, my grandfather, as I said, was a bold dragoon, and had served in the Low Countries. In fact, he was one of that very army, which, according to my uncle Toby, swore so terribly in Flanders." He could swear a good stick himself; and, moreover, was the very man that introduced the doctrine Corporal Trim mentions, of radical heat and radical moisture; or in other words, the mode of keeping out the damps of ditch water by burnt brandy. Be that as it may, it's nothing to the purport of my story. I only tell it to show you that my grandfather was a man not easily to be humbugged. He had seen service; or, according to his own phrase, "he had seen the divil"-and that's saying every thing.
Well, gentlemen, my grandfather was on his way to England, for which he intended to embark at Ostend; bad luck to the place for one where I
They brand with shame my true-love's name, And call him traitor vile,
Who dar'd disclose to Charlie's foes,
The secret postern aisle.
But tho' alas that fatal pass
The traitor dar'd reveal,
He ne'er betray'd his maniac maid,My gallant Walter Sele.
Reader, if thou believest not the above account, search, I beseech thee, ⚫the of history, and be convinced pages for once of the truth of Tradition!
TALES OF A TRAVELLER.'
The Atheneum has been instrumental, by its extracts, in bringing into view in this country the English Magazines. We wish now to bring into notice, because we have just received, Irving's Tales of a Traveller. No. I. contains the six Strange Stories of the Nervous Gentleman; and we shall take that liberty given to all periodicals, and we hope without infringing on the copy-right, to extract a few pages by way of calling the public attention to the book. It is printed similar to the Sketch-Book, and will have four parts.
was kept by storms and head winds for three long days, and the divil of a jolly companion or pretty face to comfort me. Well, as I was saying, my grandfather was on his way to England, or rather Osten d-no matter which, it's all the same. So one evening,towards nightfall, he rode jollily into Bruges.Very like you all know Bruges, gentlemen, a queer, old-fashioned Flemish town, once, they say, a great place for trade and money-making, in old times, when the Mynheers were in their glory; but almost as large and as empty as an Irishman's pocket at the present day. Well, gentlemen, it was the time of the annual fair. All Bruges was crowded; and the canals swarmed with Dutch boats, and the streets swarmed with Dutch merchants; and there was hardly any getting along for goods, wares, and merchandises, and peasants in big breeches, and women in half a score of petticoats.
My grandfather rode jollily along, in his easy slashing way, for he was a saucy, sunshiny fellow-staring about him at the motley crowd, and the old houses with gable ends to the street and storks' nests on the chimneys; winking at the ya vrouws who showed their
faces at the windows, and joking the women right and left in the street; all of whom laughed, and took it in amazing good part; for though he did not know a word of their language, yet he had always a knack of making himself understood among the women.
Well, gentlemen, it being the time of the annual fair, all the town was crowded; every inn and tavern full, and my grandfather applied in vain from one to the other for admittance. At length he rode up to an old racketty inn that looked ready to fall to pieces,and which all the rats would have run away from, if they could have found room in any other house to put their heads. It was just such a queer building as you see in Dutch pictures, with a tall roof that reached up into the clouds; and as many garrets, one over the other, as the seven heavens of Mahomet.-Nothing had saved it from tumbling down, but a stork's nest on the chimney, which always brings good lock to a house in the Low Countries; and at the very time of my grandfather's arrival, there were two of these long-legged birds of grace,standing like ghosts on the chimney top. Faith, but they've kept the house on its legs to this very day; for you may see it any time you pass through Bruges, as it stands there yet; only it is turned into a brewery—a brewery of strong Flemish beer; at least it was so when I came that way after the battle of Waterloo.
My grandfather eyed the house curiously as he approached. It might not altogether have struck his fancy, had he not seen in large letters over the door, HEER VERKOOPT MAN GOEDEN DRANK.
My grandfather had learnt enough of the language to know that the sign promised good liquor. "This is the house for me," said he, stopping short
before the door.
tiller of Geneva from Schiedam, sat smoking on the other, and the bottlenosed host stood in the door, and the comely hostess, in crimped cap, beside him; and the hostess' daughter,a plump Flemish lass, with long golden pendants in her ears, was at a side window.
"Humph!" said the rich burgher of Antwerp, with a sulky glance at the stranger.
"Der duyvel!" said the fat little distiller of Schiedam.
The landlord saw with the quick glance of a publican that the new guest was not at all at all, to the taste of the old ones; and to tell the truth, he did not himself like my grandfather's saucy eye. He shook his head-"Not a garret in the house but was full.”
"Not a garret !" echoed the landlady. "Not a garret!" echoed the daughter. The burgher of Antwerp and the little distiller of Schiedam continued to smoke their pipes sullenly, eyed the enemy askance from under their broad hats, but said nothing.
The sudden appearance of a dashing dragoon was an event in an old inn, frequented only by the peaceful sons of traffick. A rich burgher of Antwerp, a stately ample man, in a broad Flemish hat, and who was the great man and the great patron of the estab lishment, sat smoking a clean long pipe on one side of the door; a fat little dis
My grandfather was not a man to be brow-beaten. He threw the reins on his horse's neck, cocked his hat on one side, stuck one arm akimbo, slapped his broad thigh with the other hand
"Faith and troth !" said he, " but I'll sleep in this house this very night!"
My grandfather had on a tight pair of buckskins-the slap went to the landlady's heart.
He followed up the vow by jumping off his horse, and making his way past the staring Mynheers into the public room.-May be you've been in the bar room of an old Flemish inn-faith, but a handsome chamber it was as you'd wish to see; with a brick floor, a great fire place, with the whole bible history in glazed tiles; and then the mantlepiece, pitching itself head foremost out of the wall, with a whole regiment of cracked tea-pots and earthen jugs paraded on it: not to mention half a dozen great Delft platters hung about the room by way of pictures; and the little bar in one corner, and the bouncing bar maid inside of it with a red calico cap and yellow ear drops.
My grandfather snapped his fingers over his head, as he cast an eye round the room: "Faith, this is the very
house I've been looking after," said he. -There was some farther show of resistance on the part of the garrison, but my grandfather was an old soldier, and an Irishman to boot, and not easily repulsed, especially after he had got into the fortress. So he blarney'd the landlord, kissed the landlord's wife, tickled the landlord's daughter, chucked the bar maid under the chin; and it was agreed on all hands that it would be a thousand pities, and a burning shame into the bargain to turn such a bold dragoon into the streets. So they laid their heads together, that is to say, my grandfather and the landlady, and it was at length agreed to accommodate him with an old chamber that had for some time been shut up.
"Some say it's haunted!" whispered the landlord's daughter, "but you're a bold dragoon, and I dare say don't fear ghosts."
"The divil a bit!" said my grand father, pinching her plump cheek; "but if I should be troubled by ghosts, I've been to the Red sea in my time, and have a pleasant way of laying them, my darling !"
And then he whispered something to the girl which made her laugh, and give him a good-humoured box on the ear. In short, there was nobody knew better how to make his way among the petticoats than my grandfather.
At supper my grandfather took command of the table d'hôte as though he had been at home; helped every body, not forgetting himself;talked with every one, whether he understood their language or not; and made his way into the intimacy of the rich burgher of Antwerp, who had never been known to be sociable with any one during his life. In fact, he revolutionized the whole establishment, and gave it such a rouse, that the very house reeled with it. He outsat every one at table excepting the little fat distiller of Schiedam, who sat soaking for a long time before he broke forth; but when he did, he was a very devil incarnate. He took a violent affection for my grandfather: so they sat drinking, and smoking, and telling stories, and singing Dutch and Irish songs, without understanding a word each other said, until the little Hollander was fairly swampt with his own gin and water, and carried off to bed, whoop ing and hiccuping, and trolling the burthen of a Low Dutch love song.
Well, gentlemen, my grandfather was shown to his quarters, up a huge staircase, composed of loads of hewn timber; and through long rigmarole passages, hung with blackened paintings of fruit, and fish, and game, and country frolicks, and huge kitchens, and portly burgomasters, such as you see about old-fashioned Flemish inns, till at length he arrived at his room.
In a little while, as was his usual way, he took complete possession of the house; swaggering all over it :— into the stable to look after his horse; into the kitchen to look after his supper. He had something to say or to do with every one; smoked with the Dutchmen; drank with the Germans; slapped the men on the shoulders, tickled the women under the ribs :-never since the days of Ally Croaker had such a rattling blade been seen. The landlord stared at him with astonishment; the landlord's daughter hung her head and giggled whenever he came near; and as he turned his back and swaggered along, his tight jacket setting off his broad shoulders and plump buckskins, and his long sword trailing by his side, the maids whispered to one another,-"What a proper man !"
An old-times chamber it was, sure enough, and crowded with all kinds of trumpery. It looked like an infirmary for decayed and superannuated furniture; where every thing diseased and disabled was sent to nurse, or to be forgotten. Or rather, it might have been taken for a general congress of old legitimate moveables, where every kind and country had a representative. No two chairs were alike: such high backs and low backs, and leather bottoms and worsted bottoms, and straw bottoms, and no bottoms; and cracked marble tables with curious carved legs, holding balls in their claws, as though they were going to play at ninepins.
My grandfather made a bow to the motley assemblage as he entered, and having undressed himself, placed his
It seemed as if some one was trying to hum a tune in defiance of the asthma. He recollected the report of the room's being haunted; but he was no believer in ghosts. So he pushed the door ajar, and peeped in.
light in the fire place, asking pardon of the tongs, which seemed to be making love to the shovel in the chimney corner, and whispering soft nonsense in its ear.
The rest of the guests were by this time sound asleep; for your Mynheers are huge sleepers. The house maids, one by one, crept up yawning to their atticks, and not a female head in the inn was laid on a pillow that night, without dreaming of the Bold Dragoon.
My grandfather, for his part, got into bed, and drew over him one of those great bags of down, under which they smother a man in the Low Countries; and there he lay, melting between two feather beds, like an anchovy sandwich between two slices of toast and butter. He was a warm complexioned man, and this smothering played the very deuce with him. So, sure enough, in a little while it seemed as if a legion of imps were twitching at him, and all the blood in his veins was in fever heat.
He lay still, however, until all the house was quiet, excepting the snoring of the Mynheers from the different chambers; who answered one another in all kinds of tones and cadences, like so many bull-frogs in a swamp. The quieter the house became, the more unquiet became my grandfather. He waxed warmer and warmer, until at length the bed became too hot to hold him.
"May be the maid had warmed it too much?" said the curious gentleman inquiringly.
"I rather think the contrary," replied the Irishman." But be that as it may,it grew too hot for my grandfather."
"Faith there's no standing this any longer," says he; so he jumped out of bed and went strolling about the house. "What for?" said the inquisitive gentlemen.
"Why, to cool himself to be sure," replied the other," or perhaps to find a more comfortable bed-or perhaps —but no matter what he went for-he never mentioned; and there's no use in taking up our time in conjecturing."
Well, my grandfather had been for some time absent from his room, and was returning perfectly cool, when just as he reached the door be heard a strange noise within. He paused and
Egad, gentlemen, there was a gambol carrying on within enough to have astonished St. Anthony.
By the light of the fire he saw a pale weazen-faced fellow in a long flannel gown and a tall white nightcap with a tassel to it, who sat by the fire, with a bellows under his arm by way of bagpipe, from which he forced the asthmatical music that had bothered my grandfather. As he played, too, he kept twitching about with a thousand queer contortions; nodding his head and bobbing about his tasselled night-cap.
My grandfather thought this very odd, and mighty presumptuous, and was about to demand what business be had to play his wind instrument in another gentleman's quarters, when a new cause of astonishment met his eye.— From the opposite side of the room a long-backed,bandy-legged chair, covered with leather, and studded all over in a coxcomical fashion with little brass nails, got suddenly in motion; thrust out first a claw foot, then a crooked arm, and at length, making a leg, slided gracefully up to an easy chair, of tarnished brocade, with a hole in its bottom, and led it gallantly out in a ghostly minuet about the floor.
The musician now played fiercer and fiercer, and bobbed his head and his nightcap about like mad. By degrees the dancing mania seemed to seize upon all the other pieces of furniture. The antique, long-bodied chairs paired off in couples and led down a country dance; a three-legged stool danced a hornpipe, though horribly puzzled by its supernumerary leg ;while the amorous tongs seized the shovel round the waist, and whirled it about the room in a German waltz. In short, all the moveables got in motion, capering about; pirouetting, hands acrost, right and left, like so many devils, all except a great clothes press, which kept curtesying and curtesying, like a dowager, in one corner, in exquisite time to the music; being either too
corpulent to dance, or perhaps at a loss for a partner.
My grandfather concluded the latter to be the reason; so, being, like a true Irishman, devoted to the sex, and at all times ready for a frolick,he bounced into the room, calling to the musician to strike up 66 Paddy O'Rafferty," capered up to the clothes-press and seized upon two handles to lead her out -When, whizz!-the whole revel was at an end. The chairs, tables, tongs, and shovel slunk in an instant as quietly into their places as if nothing had happened; and the musician vanished up the chimney, leaving the bellows behind him in his hurry. My grandfather found himself seated in the middle of the floor, with the clothes press sprawling before him, and the two handles jerked off and in his hands. "Then after all, this was a mere dream!" said the inquisitive gentleman. "The divil a bit of a dream!" replied the Irishman: "there never was a truer fact in the world. Faith, I should have liked to see any man tell my grandfather it was a dream."
Well, gentlemen, as the clothes press was a mighty heavy body, and my grandfather likewise, particularly in rear, you may easily suppose two such heavy bodies coming to the ground would make a bit of a noise. Faith, the old mansion shook as though it had mistaken it for an earthquake. The whole garrison was alarmed. The landlord, who slept just below, hurried up with a candle inquire the cause, but with all his haste his daughter had hurried to the scene of uproar before him. The landlord was followed by the landlady, who was followed by the bouncing bar maid, who was followed by the simpering chambermaids all holding together as well as they could,
such garments as they first laid hands on; but all in a terrible hurry to see what the devil was to pay in the chamber of the bold dragoon.
My grandfather related the marvellous scene he had witnessed, and the prostrate clothes press, and the broken handles, bore testimony to the fact.There was no contesting such evidence; particularly with a lad of my grandfather's complexion, who seemed able to make good every word either with sword or shillelah. So the landlord scratched his head and looked silly, as he was apt to do when puzzled. The landlady scratched-no, she did not scratch her head,--but she knit her brow, and did not seem half pleased with the explanation. But the landlady's daughter corroborated it, by recollecting that the last person who had dwelt in that chamber was a famous juggler who had died of St. Vitus's dance, and no doubt bad infected all the furniture.
In the department of the Drome, a woman was lately killed under the extraordinary impression that she was a witch. This woman was paid by the peasants for telling them good fortune, or for abstaining from doing them harm. She went to the farm of a pea
VARIETIES. Original Anecdotes, Literary News, Chit Chat, Incidents, &c.
sant, and asked a reward for conjuring the danger which threatened his cattle. He treated her pretensions with insult. Soon after he lost some cattle, and his wife and children fell ill. He immediately ascribed these calamities to the supernatural influence of the hag; but so far from being terrified at her pow