him from durance. Gratitude
and love both pointed out the course for the obliged M. c. to pursue;
but, alas! there is nothing certain in the anticipations of complete
happiness in this life. The lady fell suddenly sick, and died on the
very day they were to have been married, leaving him sole executor of
her property. The calamitous event made such a deep impression upon a
feeling mind, already shaken by trouble and disease, that finding his
prospects of bliss again blighted without a chance of recovery, he fell
into a state of despondency, and was, within a week, laid a corpse by
the side of his first love. At the post-office,--purposely placed out of
the way by the sagacious Chelts to give strangers the trouble of making
inquiries,--I received the following whim from the same witty pen who
wrote me, anonymously, an inauguration ode to commence my second volume
with." "Who is this whimsical spirit in the clouds?" said Bob. "Ay,
lad," I retorted, "that's just the inquiry I have been making for
the last eight months: ~236~~although it would appear we have--_ad
interim_--been running, riding, racing, rowing, and sailing together in
various parts of the kingdom, you perceive, Bob, there are more Spies
than ourselves at work. However, this must be some protecting geni
who hovers over our heads and fans the air on silken wing, wafting
zephyr-like the ambrosial breeze, where'er our merry fancies stray.
Anon, 'we'll drink a measure the table round;' and if we forget the
'Honest Reviewer,' may we lose all relish for a racy joke, and be
forgotten ourselves by the lovers of good fellowship and good things."
"Which we never shall be," said Bob; "for those eccentric _tomes_ of
ours must and will continue to amuse a laughter-loving age, when we
are booked inside and bound for t'other world." There was not a little
egotism, methought, about friend Transit's eulogy; but as every
parent has a sort of poetical licence allowed him in praising his own
bantlings, perhaps the patronage bestowed by the public upon the English
Spy may excuse a little vanity in either the author or the artist. "But
you are the great magician o' the south yourself, Bernard," continued
Transit, "and will you not use your power, you who can 'call spirits
from the vasty deep'" "True, Bob; I can call, but will they come when I
shall command? However, let us retire to our inn, and after dinner we'll
chant his lay; and if he dances not to the music of his own metre, th