Miscellaneous writings of the late Dr. Maginn :: :: University of Virginia Library

“Send for a chair—it blows so hard—I can't bear windy weather;
Now, you and I in one sedan can go quite well together,”
Said Mrs. Frump, while folding tight her shawl around each shoulder,
She took the lean and wither'd arm of sweet Miss Nancy Holder.

This Mistress Frump and Nancy dear were old maids stiff and stupid,
Who long had been shot proof against the darts of cunning Cupid;
So now, good souls, they both were off to Lady Betty Randle,
To have a little shilling whist, and talk a deal of scandal.

The chair it came, and in they went, together sideways sitting,
As closely pack'd as all the threads they just before were knitting.
In minutes three they safe arrived, the double knock foretelling
The fast approach of these two dames to Lady Randle's dwelling.

Forthwith the bawling footman shewed up stairs Miss Nancy Holder,
And Mrs. Frump; while stared Miss Young, and Mrs. Young the older.
“Dear Lady Randle, how d'ye do? I am very glad to see you,”
Quoth Mrs. Frump. Miss Sugarfist cried, “Dear Miss Nan, how be you?”

“Miss Charlotte, I am quite rejoiced to have the boundless pleasure
Of shaking hands, my love, you're looking charming beyond measure;
That roseate bloom upon your cheek outvies the soft carnation.”
“O lawk! Miss Ann, you fluster me with such great admiration.”

Now, Mr. Sugarfist had been in tea and figs a dealer,
Which was the cause Miss Sugarfist, his child, was not genteeler;
He, having made a fortune large, and trade no more admiring,
Sold all his stock, and cut the shop and business, by retiring.

Yet still he dealt—that is, the cards, for he to whisk was partial;
His partner now, a soldier bold, was gallant Major Martial,
Who oft had seen much service hard, round Brentford, Kew, and Ryogate,
And e'en that very day had march'd from Paddington to Highgate.

By Mr. Sugarfist there sat, of turtle feasts a giver,
A Nabob, who came home with gold, but not an inch of liver;
His partner was no less a man than portly Parson Sable;
Which, if you reckon right, you'll find just makes up one whist table.

But next to these, a noisy set of talking Dames were playing
At guinea Loo, and now and then a temper vile betraying.
Miss Winter, Mrs. Crookedlegs, Miss Glum, and Mrs. Hearty,
With hump-back'd Lady Spindlehanks, exactly made the party.

246

Upon the sofa, Mrs. Frump, dear soul! had squatted down to
Some shilling whist, with Mrs. Prim, and lo! a foreign Count, too!
Who, as Dame Fortune will'd it, soon became her partner chosen;
While Mr. Prim, congenial man! sat opposite Miss Frozen.

Around the room, in various parts, some motley groups were seated:
In one place, Captain Splinter bold, with grape (not shot) juice heated,
Made desp'rate work with Sophy Blaze, who swore he meant to kill her;
For, in the warmth of love, he grasp'd her hand just like a tiller.

Then, in the room adjacent, young Miss Randle and Miss Parking,
To treat the company, began through two duets sky-larking.
When Mr. Simple ask'd Miss Quiz, “In what key are they playing?”
“'Tis what you are,—A flat,” she said, a sneering smile betraying.

Now up and down the ivory keys the Misses twain kept flying.
As if to make as great a din as could be they were trying.
This o'er, the kind Miss Symphony, with lungs indeed appalling,
Sat down before the harpsichord, and had a bout at squalling.

While all these things were going on, Miss Holder, in a corner,
Had fix'd upon a school girl, Miss Honoria Julia Horner,
Who'd just begun to be come out; so Nancy, by explaining
The histories of the folks around, Miss H. was entertaining.

“Look there! d'ye see? that's General Bomb, just come from Gibraltar;
'Tis rumour'd he will lead next week Miss Simper to the altar:
He's sixty-five, and she sixteen,—a pretty match this, truly!
No doubt, in time his brow will be with antlers cover'd duly.

“There goes Miss Flirt, who fancies she is able to discover
In every man she dances with a true and ardent lover.
And here comes Mrs. Paroquet, a widow young and wealthy,
Who's waiting just to catch some peer, old, gouty, and unhealthy.

“That kind of man with whiskers large, and hair that's rather sandy,
A stiff cravat, gold chain and glass, is what they call a Dandy.
Those ladies standing by the door, and making such wry faces,
Because they've lost twelve points at cards, are call'd the faded Graces.

“The youngest's only fifty-eight, the second sixty-seven;
The oldest, who is seventy-six, ought now to be in—heaven.
Folks say they once were pretty girls, but would be always flirting;
A thing, my dear, the hopes of being nicely married hurting.

“Now, goodness me! as I'm alive! there's little Fanny Sawyer
Engaged in earnest chat with Mr. Honesty, the lawyer.
If that turns out to be a match, I'm sure 'twill be a wonder.
But only look at Mrs. Bounce with one-arm'd Colonel Thunder.

247

“Well, how some people can!—but see, the card parties are breaking,
And yonder there's dear Mrs. Frump of tipsey-cake partaking.”
So here Miss Holder's eloquence at once was put an end to,
At sight of delicacies, which she ever was a friend to.

Now Champagne bottles, knives and forks, plates, glasses, scandal, chatter,
With laughter interspersed, began to make a glorious clatter.
“Dear Colonel, pray be good enough to help me to a custard”—
“A little lobster, if you please”—“I'll thank you for the mustard.

“Miss Holder, won't you take a seat?”—“What shall I have the pleasure,
Miss Sugarfist, of giving you?”—“Why, when you be at leisure,
I'll take some raisins, if you please.”—“That savours of the Grocer,”
Miss Clackitt whispered Mr. Prim, “her dad was one, you know, sir.”

Now Mr. Prim, alas! poor man! was very absent, making
Sometimes great blunders, which would after set his heart an aching:
Thus sage Miss Clackitt's shrewd remark to him was quite a poser,
Yet, just for answering's sake, he roar'd out, “Yes, her dad's a grocer!”

On which Miss Charlotte's cheeks, poor thing, became as red as scarlet,
And pouting like a sulky child, she sobb'd out, “O the varlet!”
But he, the cause of her dismay, stood looking blank and foolish;
While Dandy Bubble said, “Why, Prim, upon my soul! 'twas coolish.”

Now other noises swell'd the roar: Good gracious! what's the matter?
“O never mind, 'tis Sophy Blaze, again the Captain's at her:—
I wonder if these rattling romps will end in ought like marriage!”—
“Lord Random's Stanhope stops the way”—“Count Marasquino's carriage.”

Then rose among the female tribe a strife of silk and satins,
Miss Holder's chair's announced, and Mrs. Bubble's maid and pattens.
In groups the company paired off; some chairing it, some walking,
But all fatigued with doing nought, save playing cards and talking.

As home our brace of old maids went, each passing watchman's warning,
Proclaim'd, “Past two;” said Mrs. Frump, “Dear me, 'tis Sunday morning!
Well, who'd have thought it! what a shame! now is it not, Miss Nancy?
I wish we'd come away before.” (She told a lie, I fancy.)

But here to this my beauteous strain, at length I must say, Amen,
And bid adieu to Lords and Counts, to Ladies gay, and gay Men;
And much I hope, although these things sometimes should not be slighted,
When next her Ladyship's “at home,” I may not be invited.