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Rookwood. A Romance By W. HARRISON AINSWORTH

This suggestion of Turpin was so entirely consonant to the wishes of the assemblage, that it met with universal approbation; and upon a sign from Zoroaster, some of his followers departed in search of supplies for the carousal. Zoroaster leaped from the table, and his example was followed by Turpin, and more leisurely by the patrico.

It was rather early in the day for a drinking bout. But the canting crew were not remarkably particular. The chairs were removed, and the jingling of glasses announced the arrival of the preliminaries of the matutine symposion. Poles, canvas, and cords, were next brought; and in almost as short space of time as one scene is substituted for another in a theatrical representation, a tent was erected. Benches, stools, and chairs, appeared with equal celerity, and the interior soon presented

an appearance like that of a booth at a fair. A keg of brandy was broached, and the health of the new brother quaffed in brimmers.

Our highwayman returned thanks. Zoroaster was in the chair, the knight of Malta acting as croupier. A second toast was proposed—the tawny queen. This was drunk with a like enthusiasm, and with a like allowance of the potent spirit; but as bumpers of brandy are not to be repeated with impunity, it became evident to the president of the board that he must not repeat his toasts quite so expeditiously. To create a temporary diversion, therefore, he called for a song.

The dulcet notes of the fiddle now broke through the clamour; and, in answer to the call, Jerry Juniper volunteered the following:

JERRY JUNIPER’S CHANT

In a box13 of the stone jug14 I was born,

Of a hempen widow15 the kid forlorn,

Fake away.

And my father, as I’ve heard say,

Fake away,

Was a merchant of capers16 gay,

Who cut his last fling with great applause,

17 Nix my doll pals, fake away.

Who cut his last fling with great applause,18

To the tune of a “hearty choke with caper sauce.”

Fake away.

The knucks in quod19 did my schoolmen play,

Fake away,

And put me up to the time of day;

Until at last there was none so knowing,

Nix my doll pals, fake away.

Until at last there was none so knowing,

No such sneaksman20 or buzgloak21 going.

Fake away.

Fogles22 and fawnies23 soon went their way,

Fake away,

To the spout24 with the sneezers25 in grand array.

No dummy hunter26 had forks27 so fly;

Nix my doll pals, fake away.

No dummy hunter had forks so fly,

No knuckler28 so deftly could fake a cly,29

Fake away.

No slour’d hoxter30 my snipes31 could stay,

Fake away.

None knap a reader32 like me in the lay.

Soon then I mounted in swell-street high.

Nix my doll pals, fake away.

Soon then I mounted in swell-street high,

And sported my flashiest toggery,33

Fake away.

Firmly resolved I would make my hay,

Fake away,

While Mercury’s star shed a single ray;

And ne’er was there seen such a dashing prig,34

Nix my doll pals, fake away.

And ne’er was there seen such a dashing prig,

With my strummel faked in the newest twig.35

Fake away.

With my fawnies famms,36 and my onions gay,37

Fake away;

My thimble of ridge,38 and my driz kemesa;39

All my togs were so niblike40 and splash,

Nix my doll pals, fake away.

All my togs were so niblike and splash,

Readily the queer screens I then could smash;41

Fake away.

But my nuttiest blowen,42 one fine day,

Fake away,

To the beaks43 did her fancy man betray,

And thus was I bowled out at last.44

Nix my doll pals, fake away.

And thus was I bowled out at last,

And into the jug for a lag was cast;45

Fake away.

But I slipped my darbies46 one morn in May,

Fake away,

And gave to the dubsman47 a holiday.

And here I am, pals, merry and free,

A regular rollocking romany.48

Nix my doll pals, fake away.

Much laughter and applause rewarded Jerry’s attempt to please; and though the meaning of his chant, even with the aid of the numerous notes appended to it, may not be quite obvious to our readers, we can assure them that it was perfectly intelligible to the canting crew. Jerry was now entitled to a call; and happening, at the moment, to meet the fine dark eyes of a sentimental gipsy, one of that better class of mendicants who wandered about the country with a guitar at his back, his election fell upon him. The youth, without prelude, struck up a

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curiosity: