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a voice, to “allez vous ong;" but her modest wrath soon subsided when she heard the intruder tell her sister that on that very morning he and his dear friend, De la Blagne, would ask the consent of their amiable papa and mamma.
Mrs. Cannon, who had gone to hear early mass with Abbé Caffard, had returned to breakfast; and at the supplication of her daughters, granted her consent, provided that their lovers were good Catholics, and could show proper certificates of confession and absolution; while, to use her own expression, her daughters should decant their former errors and heresies in the presence of at least a bishop in partibus, for such, it appears, was the Abbé Caffard.
It was now requisite to obtain the approbation of Old Cannon, who was at breakfast, writhing under the severe losses he had experienced on the preceding evening, when he, or rather the gallery, had detected two French sharpers “ doing him,” or “cleaning him out,” at écarté ; and who, upon being taken in the fact, told the old gentleman that he should have to meet them the following morning to give them satisfaction. When Count des Oripeaux and his friend were ushered into his presence, taking them for the seconds, he trembled from head to foot; but when he was made acquainted with the business that brought them, his courage rose with his wrath, and he asked the bold intruders how dirty French adventurers could dare aspire to the hand of the daughter of an English gentleman, a magistrate, a churchwarden, a chairman of a committee? The count indignantly replied that it was doing honour to a shopkeeper, who ought to feel proud in cutting off a yard of bobinet for a Chevalier Français; and, moreover, that a current of the noble blood of a French count would purify a tradesman's puddle.
Cannon was wrought up to a pitch of frenzy; and, although little disposed to joke or to pun, roared out,
“ Then, I'll tell you what, Monseer Crapo, or whatever you are, — Monseer count of Tag-rag-and-bob-tail, that you have counted without your host, and take this on a-count to settle the balance.”
So saying, he pitched an omelette aux ragous, that was smoking on his táble, at the head of the indignant count, who thought proper to retreat, exclaiming with much dignity, “ If you vas not de papa, de author of the days of Moli, you vas one dead man!” He had scarcely concluded the sentence, when a potage de vermicelle followed the omelette. It was during this interesting scene that the Misses Cannon expressed their readiness to follow their lovers as far as the antipodes, when certain words were dropped about fortune, and funded property, and cutting off to a shilling, and so forth ; by which the Frenchmen Jearnt that Molly Cannon's fortune was in her own power, and derived from certain legacies; but that Lucy's depended entirely upon the pleasure of her crusty father. A light beamed upon M. de la Blagne, the intimate friend of the count, and he withdrew his friend to consult upon what was best to be done before they decided upon an elopement.
What passed between these worthies is not recorded ; but the issue, alas ! is but too well known. The conscience of La Blagne smote him. With penitential looks he sought an interview with Molly Cannon; he fell upon one knee, then upon both; then drew a pistol, (an amatory weapon without a touchhole made expressly for disappointed and desperate lovers,) he then threatened suicide, homicide, or anyside, if she did not forgive him his base and atrocious conduct in aiding and abetting a deceit foul and infamous. He then confessed that he was not a soldier,- as his mustachios might have indicated, and his swearing confirmed,—but the eldest son of a calicot manufacturer of great wealth and renown; that his ami was neither a count, nor a cavalry colonel, but simply a melodramatic performer, enacting tyrants at the Ambigu Comique of Paris ; that no duel had been fought for her; and that General Gongibus was no other than a billiard-room marker. That the supposed quarrel had been “got up" to produce “ an effect;" and that the distinguished blood of the Oripeaux that had stained his scarf, had been obtained, en passant, from a calf's head suspended at a butcher's stall.
The only reply that Molly could make to this awful disclosure was to fall in a befitting fit; but Monsieur de la Blagne-whose true name was François Blageur,— who well knew that when a lady closed her eyes in a faint, her ears were more than usually open, whispered into one of them that he merely had paid his addresses to her sister, that he might have access to her, and glut his eyes upon her divine charms. When, perceiving that she remained silent, he loaded his pistol with half-a-dozen bullets and pellets, knelt down to say his prayers, and then put the muzzle of the weapon in his mouth. Seeing this Molly jumped up, and roaring “murder ?” and “ voleur !” rushed out of the room, leaving the disappointed Frenchman in utter dismay.
The first step that the indignant Molly Cannon adopted was to inform Lucy, like an affectionate sister, that De la Blagne had merely made love to her as a matter of convenience; that she had always been the true object of his devotions, and that he must really be a most honest and upright young man thus to have saved her from ruin and disgrace by marrying a strolling player; and, finally, (for Molly was a warm advocate of finality,) that she would send back to the wretch all his treasures and valuables, which she now dignified with the appellation of his "pitiful dirty traps."
It is difficult to say how this business might have terminated, and how far Miss Molly Cannon might have felt it incumbent on her to reward Monsieur Blageur for his candour (not, of course, to vex her disappointed sister); but women propose, and sometimes the public dispose. The fracas of this untoward event was even too great for Boulogne ; and, by the advice of Abbé Caffard, the parties thought it expedient to set out for Paris after a family council
. The Misses Cannon concluded that they should all become wives of some nobles ; their brothers, that they should move in a society, in which they could not have dared to thrust their provincial noses in London. Mrs. Cannon was anxious to behold the rites of the Roman Catholic and Apostolic Church performed in all its splendour; and old Commodus,—who had taken a vast fancy to écarté playing, (and who, moreover, had greatly admired a Parisian opera-dancer, who had been “starring it " at Boulogne, on her return to Paris from a London eclipse in the opening season,) fancied that in the French metropolis he could afford to “do the genteel thing.”
OLD MORGAN AT PANAMA.
No mirthful sound, no jest went round, as it erst was wont to do. • Wine we had none, and our girls were gone, for the last of our gold was spent ;
And some swore an oath, and all were wroth, and stern o'er the table bent;
Let us go and pillage old Panama,
We, the mighty Buccaneers !” Straight at the word each girt on his sword, five hundred men and more ; And we clove the sea in our shallops free, till we reached the mainland shore. For many a day overland was our way, and our hearts grew weary and low, And many would back on their trodden track, rather than farther go; But the wish was quelld, though our hearts rebelled, by old Morgan's stormy
roar,“ The way ye have sped is farther to tread, than the way which lies before.” So on we march'd upon Panama,
We, the mighty Buccaneers ! T was just sunset when our eyes first met the sight of the town of gold; And down on the sod each knelt to his god, five hundred warriors bold; Each bared his blade, and we fervent pray'd (for it might be our latest prayer), “ Ransom from hell, if in fight we fell,—if we lived, for a booty rare !” And each as he rose felt a deep repose, and a calm o'er all within ; For he knew right well, whatever befell, his soul was assoild from siu,
Then down we march'd on old Panama,
We, the mighty Buccaneers !
For bad we not sworn to take Panama,
We, the mighty Buccaneers ?
Of the plunder we found in old Panama,
We, the mighty Buccaneers ! We found bars of gold, and coin untold, and gems which to count were vain ; We had floods of wine, and girls divine, the dark-eyed girls of Spain. They at first were coy, and baulk'd our joy, and seem'd with their fate downcast, And wept and groan’d, and shriek'd and swoon'd; but ’t was all the same at last. Our wooing was short, of the warrior's sort, and they thought it rough, no doubt; But, truth to tell, the end was as well as had it been longer about.
And so we revell'd in Panama,
We, the mighty Buccaneers! We lived in revel, sent care to the devil, for two or three weeks or so, When a general thought within us wrought that 't was getting time to go. So we set to work with dagger and dirk to torture the burghers hoar, And their gold conceal'd compellid them to yield, and add to our common store. And whenever a fool of the miser school declared he had ne'er a groat, In charity due we melted a few, and pour'd them down his throat.
This drink we invented at Panama,
We, the mighty Buccaneers !
When the churls were eased, their bags well squeezed, we gave them our bless
ing full fain, And we kiss'd our girls with the glossy curls, the dark-eyed girls of Spain ; Our booty we shared, and we all prepared for the way we had to roam, When there rose a dispute as to taking our route by land or by water home. So one half of the band chose to travel by land, the other to travel by sea : Old Morgan's voice gave the sea the choice, and I follow'd his fortunes free, And hasten'd our leaving old Panama,
We, the mighty Buccaneers! A bark we equipp'd, and our gold we shipp'd, and gat us ready for sea ; Seventy men, and a score and ten, mariners bold were we. Our mates had took leave, on the yester-eve, their way o'er the hills to find, When, as morning's light pierced through the night, we shook her sails to the
wind. With a fresh’ning breeze we walked the seas, and the land sunk low and lower ; A dreary dread o'er our hearts there sped we never should see land more
And away we departed from Panama,
We, the mighty Buccaneers ! For a day or two we were busy enow in setting ourselves to rights, In fixing each berth, our mess, and so forth, and the day's watch and the night's; But when these were done, over every one came the lack of aught to do, We listless talk’d, we listless walk'd, and we pined for excitement new. Oh ! how we did hail any shift in the gale, for it gave us a sail to trim! We began to repent that we had not bent our steps with our comrades grim.
And thus we sail'd on from old Panama,
We, the mighty Buccaneers! Day after day we had stagger'd away, with a steady breeze abeam; No shift in the gale; no trimming a sail; how dull we were, ye may deem ! We sung old songs till we wearied our lungs; we pushed the flagon about; And told and re-told tales ever so old, till they fairly tired us out. There was a shark in the wake of our bark took us three days to hook ; And when it was caught we wished it was not, for we missed the trouble it took. And thus we sail'd on from old Panama,
We, the mighty Buccaneers ! At last it befell, some tempter of hell put gambling in some one's head; The devil's device, the cards and the dice, broke the stagnant life we led : From morn till night, ay, till next morn's light, we plied the bones right well; Day after day the rattle of play clatter'd thorough the caravel. How the winners laugh’d, how the losers quaff'd!'t was a madness, as it were. It was a thing of shuddering to hark to the losers' swear. And thus we sail'd on from old Panama,
We, the mighty Buccaneers !
We, the mighty Buccaneers !
We, the mighty Buccaneers ! "
We never were slow at a word and a blow, so we crossd our irons full fain ;
its grace, I pray! For I swear, by God, I will cleave him like wood !” There was one made an
angry sign; Old Morgan heard, and he kept his word; for he clove him to the chine. So ended his exploits at Panama:
He, the mighty Buccaneer! At this we quail'd, and we henceforth sail'd, in a smouldering sort of truce; But our dark brows gloom'd, and we inward fumed for a pretext to give us
loose : When early one morn—"A strange sail astern!” we heard the lookout-man. And old Morgan shout,“ Put the ship about, and crowd every stitch of sail !" And around went we, surging through the sea at our island wild buck's pace; In wonderment what old Morgan meant, we near'd to the fated chaseWe, the pillagers of old Panama,
We, the mighty Buccaneers! She went right fast, but we took her at last. 'T was a little brigantine thing; With some four men for crew, and a boy or two-a bark built for trafficking; Besides this crew were three women, too: her freight was salt-fish and oil: For the men on board, they were put to the sword; the women we spared
awhile. And all was surmise what to do with the prize, when old Morgan, calling us aft, Roar'd," Ye who have fooled yourselves out of your gold take possession of yonder craft, And go pillage some other Panama,
Ye, the mighty Buccaneers ! We were reckless and rude, we had been at feud till ’t was war to the very knife ; But it clove each heart when we came to part from comrades in many a strife: Over one and all a gloom seemed to fall, and in silence they packed their gear, Amid curses and sighs, and glistening eyes, and here and there a tear. We gave brooches and things for keepsakes and rings ; and some trucked the
weapons they wore: This Spanish gun was a token from one who had fought me a week before, While we diced for the spoils of old Panama,
We, the mighty Buccaneers ! Their traps all pack'd, there was nothing lack'd, but sharing the women three: The odd one's choice was left to the dice, and she fell to the rich so free; When the losers' 'gan swear the dice were unfair, and brawld till our chief gat
wild, And, without more ado, cut the woman in two, as Solomon shared the child. Then each of each band shook each old mate's hand, and we parted with hearts
full sore; We all that day watch'd them lessen away. They were never heard of more! We kept merrily on from old Panama,
We, the mighty Buccaneers !
And such was the pillage of Panama
By the mighty Buccaneers!
G. E. INMAX.