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1819.]

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THE SWORD EXERCISE.

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in fencing when you were in Paris ?" To be sure," said he, "I spent, three or four hours every morning in the Salle des armes, and I believe I could now take my inches even at contre point against any swordsman in Scotland." Not so fast, friend," said we, "not quite so fast, neither. Have you measured foils yet with Francalanza ?”* No, faith," quoth he; "but I have seen his advertisement, and shall certainly call upon him the very day I return to Auld Reekie." "Have your doublet well lined then, Giovanni," we returned, "and see that your mask sits close about your ears, and expect, with all your precautions, to come back with the marks of his button between every pair of your ribs; for we have fenced with the Rolands, the Angelos, and most of the amateurs in the three kingdoms—but Heaven forbid we should ever venture a second trial with this Italian !" “An Italian is he?" cries Ballantyne; "I think I have heard his name mentioned in Paris." "Very probably," said we, "he is well known there-he fenced a great many years ago with Augereau, who said he had the finest turn of a wrist, and, without exception, the most irresistible pair of eyes he had ever met with.” "The marshal," quoth John, "must be admitted to be an excellent judge; he is allowed to be the first homme-d'epeé in all France, old as he is.' "Our own Prince Regent," we continued, " is not a bad judge neither; and we have reason to know that he has seen Francalanza fence, and thinks at least as highly of him as Marshal Augereau. We ourselves have heard both Leslie and Underwood, the two finest amateur swordsmen in these islands, bear the most unequivocal testimony to his merits; we used to meet with them often at his rooms in Cateaton-street. He is a glorious fellow-and let us tell you, Mr. Ballantyne, his fingers manage the guitar just as well as they do the rapier. He sings and plays much in the same charming style with that prince of good fellows and artists, John Schetky." "Why, he will be quite an acquisition," cried Ballantyne; we must get him into the Dilettanti with all speed."

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wish to heavens you would get ourselves into the Dilettanti, Mr. John," returned we; we have spoken of it a thousand times, but you'll never condescend to propose us when a ballot comes about."

* Francalanza and Roland were eminent fencing-masters, in Edinburgh, in 1819.-M. † Augereau, one of Napoleon's marshals, created Duke of Castiglione, for his bravery at the battles of Castiglione and Arcola, in 1796. He served Napoleon faithfully, yet, on his fall in 1814, was one of the first to join the Bourbons. On the return from Elba, in 1815, he offered to serve his old master, who declined having any thing to do with him, a double traitor. Augereau. was one of the best swordsmen in the Grand Army.-M.

John Schetky had been a staff-surgeon, under Wellington, in the Peninsular War, and had attained some eminence, as an amateur, before the peace of 1815 ended his professional career. Settling at Edinburgh he earnestly applied himself to painting. Dr. Morris (Lockhart) says, in Peter's Letters, that his trees-his rocks-his Pyrenees, seem to breathe and be alive with the spirit of their Maker, and he has no superior, but one [Turner?] in every thing that regards the grand and mysterious eloquence of the cloud and sky." Schetky was one of the Dilettanti Society, of which Wilson was president, which may account for the friendly notice of him as

above.-M.

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"Wait a little; have patience, my dear Editor," cried John; "there's a braw time coming yet." We shall keep our eye upon Mr. John Ballantyne next winter, and, depend on it, if he neglects to introduce us to this illustrious society, we shall not be easily pacified.* In the mean time, seeing that we had given him a little offence, we proposed to enliven our journey by singing a few duets together, which we did. We think both of us were particularly happy in that exquisite genuine old High Dutch one,

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"I hope," said Ballantyne, "that you will return to Edinburgh in time, at least, for the grand Musical Festival. We never could do without you. By the way, I cannot but be rather surprised that you are not one of the directors, Mr. Editor."-We assured our good friend, that the omission of our name in that list was entirely owing to ourselves; that it had been early put down by Lord Gray ; but we hate all kind of notoriety, and therefore requested his Lordship to be so good as to withdraw our name, at the same time promising him, or any other of the directors, every assistance and advice in our power. "You see that we are to have Dragonetti's double bass‡what a perfect volcano!—a very earthquake it is, Mr. Editor!—but I am extremely anxious that you should hear little Signora Corri.”— "Hear little Signora Corri !" we replied: "have we not dandled the little syren on our knee a hundred times, when she was in frock? and were not we ourselves the first to prophecy her future noise in the world, and suggest to her papa the propriety of sending her to Catalani ? Those were pleasant nights, John, when we used to sit at the long supper-table of Signor Corri, and sometimes inspirited by noyeau and cherry bounce, venture our own cracked voice in a glee;

* The Dilettanti of Edinburgh professed to be arbitri elegantiarum in all matters of art and taste, but really did little more than eat good dinners, and spend social evenings at Young's Tavern.-M. † A Scottish peer, and not to be confounded with the English Earl Grey, Prime Minister, 1830-34.-M.

What Bottesini is in 1854 (the best double-bass in the world), Dominico Dragonetti was in 1819, and for more than twenty years after.-M.

|| Angelica Catalani, who made her debut at Rome in 1802; her immediate and immense success obtained her excellent engagements at the principal theatres in Italy. New triumphs awaited her at Lisbon, Madrid. and Paris, which were outshone by her brilliant success in London in 1806. She remained eight years in England, singing at the Italian Opera. and in the provinces. After the Restoration she went to Paris, became manager of the Opera Buffa there. lost her money, returned to England in 1822, and was greeted as an old and deserving favorite. In 1825 she commenced a farewell round of engagements in the chief European cities, and returned in 1830. In her youth she was handsome, and had a good figure; when I saw her, in 1828, she was middle-aged and stout, but her voice had wonderful brilliancy and power. Her husband, a French officer, named Valaberque, used to say, "Doo or dree poupets and mine lady -voila the opera. She died of cholera, in 1849, at Paris.-M.

1819.]

INTERIOR OF THE TENT.

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but, in truth, ear is everything' tutto, tutto, tutto;'—as the Corri used to say, 'I do like vast well for to hear Signor Christophero sing Il suo gusto e perfetto.

A message from our compositor forces us to cut short, and to reserve for another Number our account of Dunkeld, and other noble Highland scenery which we visited on our way to the Tent. Indeed we have whole volumes in our brain about the Highlands, and can never hope to live long enough to utter all we think, feel, and know of that wonderful country. For the present, gentle reader, imagine yourself sitting between ourselves and Mr. Ballantyne a little forward on the seat for the sake of room, and once more behold our Tent rising before you, almost like a native production-that snowwhite graceful pyramid. Who are those figures issuing from the door ?-Need you ask?—Tickler and the Standard-bearer. Mr. Ballantyne gently pulled up Old Mortality, when about quarter of a mile from the Tent, and took out of his pocket that seven-league spy-glass of his, presented to him by Adie, that most piercing of opticians; and putting it into our hands, said, “Tak a keek at the callans." We did so and Tickler and Odoherty seemed standing by the very nose of Old Mortality. The Sage had a prodigious whiskybottle in his hand, from which the Adjutant was receiving a bumper with a steady hand and determined countenance; and never saw we any mortal man take "his morning" with more relish-we almost thought we heard the smack of his lips, as the warm genial fluid descended into his penetralia. “Give me a keek," said the Bibliopole. He applied the tube to his ogles; but just as he had caught a glimpse of Tickler in the act of having the compliment returned by the Standard-bearer, a fine hare sprung up from a bush on the roadside, and after her away scoured Dominie Sampson. Mr. Ballantyne bounced out of the dennet as if he had been discharged from a catapulta, and lighting upon his feet, he joined the pursuit straight up a steep, stony, heathy hill, shouting aloud, "Halloo! halloo ! halloo !" and was out of sight in less than no time. We laid the reins on Old Mortality's back, and told him to jog on quietly to the Tent. "God bless you all, our dear Contributors," was all we could say, for our heart was full to behold them again all looking so well, and so happy to see

us.

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When the first burst of congratulation was over, we were especially delighted to see Tims, whom we again shook cordially by the hand, his little finger being now, he said, quite healed under the care of Drs. Scott and Morris. Tims seemed quite an altered man. had let his beard grow, that he might have a rural, a pastoral appearance, like the Ettrick Shepherd; and he was ready to leap out of his skin when we remarked the resemblance. This beard of his consisted of perhaps about one hundred hairs, seemingly very soft and silky, and altogether of a different character from the mustachios

of the 10th Hussars. 'My dear Tims, you are a perfect Aaron.""I h'ant shove since you went away to Scotland," said the little exulting Cockney-"neither no more has Pricey." The gentleman designated by this endearing diminutive then caught my eye, and beard enough he had with a vengeance. Price is a big lumbering fellow, not so much amiss in the way of good looks; and we do not know how it is, but he always reminds us of that able-bodied barber, who comes lollopping into one's bed-room, of a morning, in the Old Hummums, Covent-Garden, insisting upon the immediate detonsure of you, nolentis volentis. But we had little time to spend upon Mister Price and his whiskers; for we missed Dr. Scott in the throng, and loudly called for the Odontist. Alas! he too soon ap; peared, mounted upon his white pony-in every respect the same vision that so delighted us some weeks ago.

'But, ohon! the Doctor's departure is near,

Umbrella unfurled, and mounted his gear."

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"It's a sad thing, Mr. Editor, for freens to part; but aff I maun gang; I deliver up the Tent and the Contributors all hale and hearty into your ain hauns (the Doctor had been Viceroy during our ab•sence), see you keep them a' as quate as I hae done. O! he's a sair rumpawger, that Odoherty, and gude faith, Tickler's but little better. Mr. Buller,* with the brazen nose, is a fine civil, clever, weel-informed laddie; and I canna say that I dislike that Seward either; but ye ken a' their characters brawly yoursel'-so, fareweel-fareweel. O! Mr. Editor, I'm maist like to greet.' We need not say how much affected we ourselves were; and we wanted words to express our concern when the Ettrick Shepherd advanced, and proposed a round of genuine Glasgow punch (from a small bowl which he held in hist fist) to the health of the worthy Doctor, a safe journey, and a hearty welcome in No. 7, Millar-street. Just as the Doctor had received his glass, the Shepherd threw his plaid over his shoulder, and fixing his honest light grey eyes, swimming in tears, on the departing Odontist, he thus gave vent to his own and our feelings in immortal song. L'ENVOY; AN EXCELLENT NEW SONG IN HONOR of dr. scott. By the ETTRICK SHEPHERD. TUNE-" Grammachree."

1.

DRAW water of the coldest--draw ye water from the spring,

And heaps of snow-white sugar into the china fling,

And squeeze the fairest lemon, and pour the richest rum,

That our parting mayn't be dry at least, although it may be dumb.

*John Hughes (son of the Rev. Dr. Hughes, a Canon_Residentiary of St. Paul's, London), who is known to the readers of Ebony as "Buller of Brazennose," had his Itinerary of the Rhone kindly and favorably noticed by Scott, in the Introduction to Quentin Durward. In a poem by Mr. Hughes, entitled "Walter Childe," published in Bentley's Miscellany, in 1838, there is an elegant and affectionate tribute to Scott's memory.—M.

1819.]

L'ENVOY.

2.

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We'll consecrate a bumper, and a bumper of the best—-
We'll consecrate a bumper to speed our going guest;

And we'll pour the dear libation, with the tear-drops in our een,
For a noble fellow's leaving us, and a nobler ne'er was seen.

3.

With right good will we'd keep him-we would keep him in our Tent;
But since go he must-oh! lightly be his course out owre the bent-
May his pony's feet be steady, through the heather and the whins,
And may ne'er a thorn hae power to jag the hide upon his shins.

4.

May that pony ne'er be startled by brackenbush or post—
May no stravaiging heifer be mistaken for a ghost--

May no reaver bands disturb him, though, in crossing of yon hill,
He'll perhaps have no objection for to stumble on a still.

5.

Oh! may the skies be crystal clear above you as you ride,
And the sun be shining brightly upon the mountains' side,
That the brightness and the beauty may cheer you as ye go,
And your heart may dance within you like a young and happy roe!

6.

May ye ne'er want for good quarters to rest yourself at e'en—
A bonny lass to stir the fire-and a table-cloth fu' clean;
And when ye rise at cock-crow, may that lassie's hand be nigh
To reach the stirrup goblet, and sweetly say-Good-bye.

7.

O blythe be a' your journey, and blythe your coming home,
That oft ye may take heart again in the merry hearst to roam;
And whene'er the Doctor's roaming-oh! near him may we be,
For meikle can we do without, but not his canty e'e.

8.

Meantime, if worth and kindness be beauteous in your eyes,
And if genius be a jewel, all with one accord you'll rise;
You'll rise, my lads, as I do, and toss your cups with me,

To-Blessings on the Doctor's head! with a hearty three times three !

During the recitation of these noble verses, Dr. Scott occasionally hid his face with his umbrella, and often cast up his eyes to heaven. Too, too much," he would sometimes exclaim, in a choked, tremulous voice, but when the L'Envoy ceased, he seemed "rapt, inspired ;" and rising upon his stirrups, and at the same time elevating his umbrella, till the whole man and his accoutrements seemed something more than mortal, he chanted the following hymn :-

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