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

Reflections—birth,—parentage,—boyish tricks,—education,—change of dress,—apprenticeship,—bladders and Dr. Lavement,—bad habits,—ditto cured by his mother,—caution,—and moral.

Men's legs, if man may trust the common talk,
Are engines put in motion when men walk;
But when we cross our knees, and take a chair
Beside the fire, they're not in motion there:
So this we learn by wisdom, art, and skill,
That legs are made to stir, or to sit still.
Yet sometimes I have heard, that when the head
In woollen cap lay snoring on the bed,
The legs, without the sanction of the brain,
Were fond to wander on the midnight plain,
Pursue, mid darkness, tasks of common day,
Yet come, as will'd Caprice, unharm'd away;
Which to illustrate, let the reader bend
A willing ear, and list his warning friend.

James Neckum Theodore Emmanuel Reid,
Was meanly born, and was ignobly bred,
Lived upon pottage, slept within a shed;
His mother,—But it were in vain to look—
Her's was no marriage by the session book;
His mother, fool, had never taken pains
To gird her neck with matrimonial chains,

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And he, her leman, seeing what would be,
Turn'd a blue-neck'd marine, and cross'd the sea;
So, in neglect and wrath the child was born,
While neighbours chuckled with their looks of scorn;
But fast he throve, and fat he grew, and that
Was felt most keenly by the tortured cat,
Whose ears he pinch'd, whose tail he drew, until
'Twas forced, when fairly vanquish'd, to lie still;
The chickens too, no sinecure of life
Had with the boy, who pull'd their necks in strife,
Till from their sockets started their black eyes,
And died their vanish'd voice in feeble cries.

At length a cap upon his head was braced,
Shoes shod his feet, and breeches girt his waist;
Tall as a leek he grew, his hair was long,
And through its folds the wild winds sang a song;
From mother's clutches oft would he elope,
And little knew his morning face of soap;
Till, having spent the morn in game and play
With comrades dirty, frolicsome, and gay,
As duly as the village clock struck two,
As duly parted he from ragged crew,
And homewards wended, fast and nothing loth,
To dip his whispers in his mother's broth.

The boy grew strong; the master of the school
Took him in charge, and with a birch did rule;
Full long and oft he blubber'd; but, at length,
Within a week he learned to letter tenth;
And ere six moons had waxed, and waned, and set,
He had reached z, and knew his alphabet.

His education finish'd, choice he made
Of a most lucrative and wholesome trade;
The leathern cap was now dismiss'd; and red,
Yea fiery, glow'd the cowl upon his head:
And, like a cherry dangling from the crown,
A neat wool tassel in the midst hung down;
Around his waist, with black tape girded tight,
Was tied a worsted apron, blue and white;
His Shetland stockings, mocking winter's cold,
Despising garters, up his thighs were roll'd,
And, by his side, horn-handled steels, and knives,
Gleam'd from his pouch, and thirsted for sheep's lives.
For, dexterous, he could split dead cows in halves,
And, though a calf himself, he slaughter'd calves.

220

But brisker look'd the youth, and nothing sadder,
For of each mother's son he got the bladder,
And straight to Galen's-head in joy he bore it,
Where Dr. Lavement gave a penny for it.

But he had failings as I said before,
So, duly as his nose began to snore,
His legs ran with his body to the door:
And forth he used to roam, with sidelong neck,
To—as the Scot's folks term it—lift the sneck.
All in his shirt and woollen cap he strayed,
Silent, though dreaming; cold, but undismay'd.
The moon was shining 'mid the depth of Heaven,
And from the chill north, fleecy clouds were driven
Athwart its silver aspect, till they grew
Dimmer, and dimmer, in the distant blue;
The trees were rustling loud; nor moon, nor trees,
Nor cloud, could on his dreaming frenzy seize,
But, walking with closed eyes across the street,
He lifted handsomely his unshod feet,
Till nought, at length, his wandering ankles propt,
And head and heels into the pond he dropt.

Then rose the loud lament; the earth and skies
Rung with his shouts, and echoed with his cries;
The neighbours, in their night-caps, throng'd around,
Call'd forth in marching order at the sound;
They hauled young Neckum out, a blanket roll'd
Around his limbs with comfortable fold,
Hurried him home, and told him, cursing deep,
“That if again with cries he broke their sleep,
Him they would change into a wandering ghost,
Draw from the pond, but hang him on a post.”

Oh! reader, learn this truth most firm and sure,
That vicious practices are hard to cure;
That error girds up with a serpent fold,
Hangs on the youth, but clings about the old.—
Night after night, if rainy, cold, or fair,
Forth went our hero, just to take the air;
Ladies were terrified, and, fainting, cried,
A ghost in white had wander'd by their side!
The soldier home his quaking path pursued,
With hair on end, gun cock'd, and bayonet screw'd
And frightful children run to bed in fear,
When mothers said the ghost in white was near!

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'Twas a hard case, but Theodore's mother quick
Fell on a scheme to cure him of the trick;
Hard by his bed a washing-tub she placed,
So, when he rose, it washed him to the waist;
And loud he roar'd,—while startled at the sound,
Old women bolted from their beds around—
“Save, save a wandering sinner, or he's drown'd!!!”

He rose no more, as I'm informed in sleep,
But duly fell'd down cows, and slaughter'd sheep,
Took to himself a wife, a pretty wench,
Sold beef by pounds, and cow-heel on a bench;
In ten years had seven boys, and five fair girls,
With cheeks like roses, and with teeth like pearls
Lay still in bed like any decent man,
Pursued through life a staid and honest plan,
And lived beloved, while honours thicken'd o'er him,
Justice of Peace, and Custos Rotulorum.

So all my readers from this tale may learn,
The right way from the wrong way to discern;
Never by dreams and nonsense to be led,
Walk when they wake, and slumber when in bed!