As who wore silk? and who wore gingham? The wages per week of the Weavers and Skinners, And if the parlor of Mrs. O'Grady Had a wicked French print, or Death and the Lady? Did Snip and his wife continue to jangle? Had Mrs. Wilkinson sold her mangle? What liquor was drunk by Jones and Brown? And the weekly score they ran up at the Crown? If the Cobbler could read, and believed in the Pope? If the Snobbs had furnished their room up-stairs, Beds, and other household affairs, Iron, wooden, and Staffordshire wares; And if they could muster a whole pair of bellows? In fact, she had much of the spirit that lies By courtesy called Statistical Fellows A prying, spying, inquisitive clan, Who have gone upon much of the self-same plan, And after poking in pot and pan, And routing garments in want of stitches, Have ascertained that a working man Wears a pair and a quarter of average breeches! But this, alas! from her loss of hearing, Was all a sealed book to Dame Eleanor Spearing; 'Twixt Mrs. O'Fie and Mrs. Au Fait That she couldn't audit the Gossips' accounts. 'Tis true, to her cottage still they came, And drank the tea of the widow'd Dame, Who saw them talk, and chuckle, and cough, She might as well have lived, you know, In one of the houses in Owen's Row, Near the New River Head, with its water cut off! And yet the almond-oil she had tried, And fifty infallible things beside, Hot, and cold, and thick, and thin, Dabb'd, and dribbled, and squirted in: But all remedies fail'd; and though some it was clear (Like the brandy and salt. We now exalt) Had made a noise in the public ear, She was just as deaf as ever, poor dear! At last one very fine day in June- Busily knitting, And humming she did n't quite know what tune; It's hard to say what buzzing it is, Nor yet the click of the lifted latch; And lo! a man! a Pedlar? ay, marry, For lad and lass, as Autolycus sings; A chapman for goodness and cheapness of ware, But deem'd a piratical sort of invader However, in the stranger came, And, the moment he met the eyes of the Dame, And then from amongst his portable gear, "There, Ma'am! try it! You need n't buy it— The last New Patent-and nothing comes nigh it For affording the Deaf, at little expense, The sense of hearing, and hearing of sense! A Real Blessing—and no mistake, Invented for poor Humanity's sake; ("That's very true," says Dame Eleanor S.) "Try it again! No harm in trying- And you'll hear a whisper, however small, And even what people are going to say— I would n't tell a lie, I would n't, But my Trumpets have heard what Solomon's could n't; And as for Scott he promises fine, But can he warrant his horns like mine Never to hear what a Lady should n't— Only a guinea-and can't take less." ("That's very dear," says Dame Eleanor S.) "Dear!-Oh dear, to call it dear! Why it isn't a horn you buy, but an ear; Only think, and you'll find on reflection You're bargaining, Ma'am, for the Voice of Affection; Not to mention the striking of clocks Cackle of hens-crowing of cocks- Murmur of waterfall over the rocks Every sound that Echo mocks Vocals, fiddles, and musical-box— And zounds! to call such a concert dear! But I must n't swear with my horn in your ear. At the Queen's Levees or the Lord Mayor's Shows, Including the wonderful lively sound Of the Guards' key-bugles all the year round Come," said the talkative Man of the Pack, For this elegant, useful Conductor of Sound, "Only a pound! it's only the price Of hearing a Concert once or twice, It's only the fee You might give Mr. C., And after all not hear his advice, But common prudence would bid you stump it; It's the regular charge At a Fancy Fair for a penny trumpet. Lord! what's a pound to the blessing of hearing!" ("A pound's a pound," said Dame Eleanor Spearing.) "Try it again! no harm in trying! A pound's a pound there's no denying; But think what thousands and thousands of pounds We pay for nothing but hearing sounds: Sounds of Equity, Justice and Law, Hocus-pocus, and Nong-tong-paw, |