The Liverpool Standard and General Commercial Advertiser.
Liverpool, Merseyside, England, 1838-07-31 00:00:00

Pottrp.

ILLUSTRATIONS OF POPERY.—No. I.

THE PCIEST AND THE HOSTLER; OR, THE VIRTUES OF
CONFESSION.
There once lived a priest, who was sacred and fat,
He knew what—when good things were going—to be at;
His teeth, a young pullet would put them on edge,
And his Bible—the cudgel—was fresh from the hedge.
Sow, it happened one day that this holy anointed,
In an inn held a station, as duly appointed ;
Where the larder's perfume, to so practised a smeller,
Was only surpassed by the fumes of the cellar.
Having twisted his nose with delight at the gales
That were wafted from capons, and wine-casks, and ales,
And lick'd his fat lips at the sight of such hams,
He piously set about feeding—his lambs!
And the old and the young of both sexes repair
To lay down their sins at the foot of his " chair ;"
And the soul-pump is plied, and the whisper is given,
And "presto" each sinner's new-modelled for heaven !
Thus to his penitents grace was made sure—
He sifted the maidens to make them more pure;
And he kindly explained to the slow and dull-witted
The number of ways that sin could be committed.
At length came Dick Hostler, as well as the rest,
Resolv'd to go forward and make a clear breast ;
And Dick, by the way, was as arrant a knave
As ever the priest had attempted to save.
" It is a bad case," says the priest in his seat,
" You're the devil's adept at each species of cheat;
Detail now, you rascal, as far as you're able,
The sins that prevail in the hay-loft and stable."
The hostler went on, and recounted such acts
As no honest man could e'er dream of as facts;
This disclosure, in truth, was no common affair,
And their novelty forced the shrewd father to stare.
" Oh, reprobate vile ! with iniquity cramm'd,
Don't you feel," said the priest, " that you ought to be
damn'd ?
Is each sin recounted?—is nothing conceal'd ?
Are all your tricks, shifts, and manoeuvres revealed ?"
But they were, and the father examined again
Into Dick's roguish treatment of horses—in vain—
At last he thus hinted, "Come, out with it, Dick?
Isn't greasing their teeth, now, your commonest trick!
Nay. never deny it, you damnable cheat,
And then you go sell what the horses can't eat;
For with teeth so well gieas'd, Mr. Hostler, you know,
That the horses you bait take their oats rather slow."
Dick relished the notion, and certainly thought
That it was not a hint to be heard and ;
But he stoutly denied the whole charge—for the fact is,
That this was beyond his adroitest of practice.
So Dick by the priest was complacently shriven,
And he thanked all the stars that his sins were forgiven;
For he knew should he honestly chalk it once more
That another confession would wipe out the score.
And thus he went on for a year and a day,
A cribbing of oats and a stealing of hay;
When he next sought the priest, to come in for a twist,
Of the pardon the priest could dispense with his fist.
" Well, Dick," thus the priest as usual begins,
" Come, give us a list of your failings and sins;
And Dick, to the letter, went over, once more
The same knavish list he had told him before.
" Now think," said the priest, " if they all are col:fest;
You know its your duty to make a clean breast—
Conceal but a thought, and as sure as a gun,
Confession is void, and your soul is undone."
Dick was silent awhile, and he hemm'd and he haw'd,
And the priest caught the scent of some masterly fraud;
And he threatened, and told him distinctly to note,
That he saw there was something that stuck in his throat.
At length replied Dick, "There's a bit of a joke,
Of which, I believe, that 1 have not yet spoke ;
Sir, in talking of horses, you've pinioned me fast,
" I've been greasing their teeth since I went to you last !"