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Time, 10.30 A. M. a glorious autumn day at Simla. Enter delicately CAPTAIN MAFFLIM of GADSBY'S regiment. Looks at sleeper, and shakes his head murmuring 'Poor Gaddy. Performs violent fantasia with hair-brushes on chair-back. CAPT. M. Wake up, my sleeping beauty! 'Uprouse ye, then, my merry merry men! It is our opening day! It is our opening da-ay!
Noon lulls us in a gloomy den, And night is grown our day; Uprouse ye, then, my merry men! And use it as ye may.
Stuart breakfasted with me, a grand-nephew of Lady Louisa's, a very pleasing young gentleman. The coach surprised me by not calling. Will it be for the Martyrdom? I trow it will, yet, strange to say, I cannot recollect if it is a regular holiday or not. "Uprouse ye then, my merry, merry men, And use it as ye may."
Nor board nor garner own we now, Nor roof nor latched door, Nor kind mate, bound, by holy vow, To bless a good man's store Noon lulls us in a gloomy den, And night is grown our day; Uprouse ye, then, my merry men! And use it as ye may
Nor board nor garner own we now, Nor roof nor latched door, Nor kind mate, bound, by holy vow, To bless a good man's store Noon lulls us in a gloomy den, And night is grown our day; Uprouse ye, then, my merry men! And use it as ye may
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