Olla Podrida | Page 5

to support
himself.
The beautiful Maria! How was it possible not to be attracted by such a
distinguishing appellation? The beautiful Maria! I thought of Sterne's
Maria, and the little dog with a string, and I trimmed my ear like a
windsail in the tropics to catch the soft responding, and most assuredly,
to my expectant imagination, melodious vibration of the air which
would succeed.
At last there was a reply. "Oh! tol, lol!" And that in anything but a
melodious voice. "Oh! tol, lol!" What a bathos! The beautiful Maria,
whom in my imagination I had clothed with all the attributes of
sentiment and delicacy, whom I had conjured up as a beau ideal of
perfection, replies in a hoarse voice with, "Oh! tol, lol!" Down she went,
like the English funds in a panic--down she went to the zero of a Doll
Tearsheet, and down I went again into the cabin. Surely this is a world
of disappointment.
Perhaps I was wrong--she might have been very beautiful, with the
voice of a peacock; she might also have the plumage--but no, that is
impossible--she must, from her sex, have been a peahen. At all events,
if not very beautiful, she was very sick. I left the beautiful Maria
screeching over the gunnel. If the young gentleman were to repeat the
same question now, thought I, the beautiful Maria will hardly answer,
"Oh! tol, lol!"

It was very cold on deck, blowing fresh from the East. I never heard
any one give a satisfactory reason why a west wind should be warm,
and an east wind cold in latitude 50 degrees N. It is not so in the tropics
when the east wind follows the rarefaction occasioned by the sun. Yet,
does not Byron say:--
"'Tis the land of the east, 'tis the clime of the sun."
Certainly our east winds are not at all poetical.
"Very cold, sir," said I, addressing a round-faced gentleman in a white
great coat, who rested his chin and his two hands upon a thick cane.
"You are fortunate in not being sea-sick."
"I beg your pardon, I am not fortunate. I am worse than sea-sick, for I
want to be sea-sick and I can't. I do believe that everything is changed
now-a-days, since that confounded Reform Bill!"
Politics again, thought I; what the devil has sea-sickness to do with the
Reform Bill? Mercy on me, when shall I be at peace? "There certainly
has been some change," observed I.
"Change, sir! yes, everything changed. England of 1835 is no more like
merry England of olden time, than I am like Louis the Fourteenth--
ruined, sir--every class suffering, sir--badly ruled, sir."
"Things are much cheaper."
"Much cheaper! Yes, sir; but what's the good of things being cheap
when nobody has any money to purchase with? They might just as well
be dear. It's a melancholy discovery, sir, this steam."
"Melancholy just now to those who are on board, and suffering, I
grant."
"Pooh, nonsense! melancholy to those on shore, sir; the engines work
while man looks on and starves. Country ruined, sir--people
miserable-- thrown out of employment, while foreigners reap the

benefit; we sell them our manufactures at a cheaper rate; we clothe
them well, sir, at the expense of our own suffering population. But is
this all, sir? Oh, no!"
And here the gentleman dropped his chin again upon his hands, and
looked very woeful indeed. After a few seconds, he resumed.
"We are dismembered, sir--ruined by faction. Society is disintegrated
by political animosities; thousands have retreated from the scene of
violence and excitement, to find peace and repose in a foreign land."
I nodded an assent.
"Ay, sir, and thousands will follow, withdrawing from the country its
resources, circulating millions which enrich other nations, and avoiding
their own share of the national burdens, which fall still heavier upon
those who remain. But is that all, sir? Oh, no!"
This second "oh, no!" was pronounced in a more lugubrious note: he
shook his head, and after a pause, he recommenced. "England is no
longer priest-ridden, sir; but she is worse, she is law-ridden. Litigation
and law expenses have, like locusts, devoured up the produce of
industry. No man is safe without a lawyer at his elbow, making over to
him a part of his annual income to secure the remainder. And then
there's Brougham. But, sir, is that all? Oh, no!"
Another pause, and he continued. "I never grumble--I hate grumblers; I
never talk of politics--I hate politics; but, sir, is it not the case, that
madmen and fools have united to ruin the country? Is it not true, sir,
that unable to rise by their talents, and urged by a wicked ambition,
they have summoned main force, and the power of numbers to their