344 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES. .
shortly after, and recognising the shoes, brought one of them in his hand into
the hawing-room, and presenting it to another of the guests, Mr. John Bachan,
Writer to the Signet, who was of very diminutive stature, said to him-" Hae,
Johnny, there's a cradle for you to sleep in."
The personal history of Mr. Osborne affords few particulars either peculiar
or interesting. His father, Alexander Osborne, Esq., Comptroller of Customs at
Aberdeen, and who died there in 1785, was a gentleman of even greater dimensions
than his son.
After having filled an inferior appointment for some years at one of the outports,
Mr. Osborne obtained the office of Inspector-General and Solicitor of
Customs. He was subsequently appointed one of the Commissioners of the
Board ; and, latterly, on the reduction made in that establishment, retired upon
a superannuated allowance.
Mr. Osborne was never married ; and, being of frugal habits, he amassed a
considerable fortune, and made several landed purchases. Besides a pretty
extensive tract of land in Orkney, he was proprietor of a small estate in Ayrshire.
Gogar Bank, a few miles west of Edinburgh, belonged to him, where he
had a summer house, and a very extensive and excellent garden. Here he often
contemplated building a handsome villa, but the design was never carried into
execution.
Xlr. Osborne died about the year 1830, at the advanced age of seventy-four ;
and it is understood the bulk of his property was bequeathed to a gentleman of
the west country. He lived at one time in Richmond Street ; but latterly, and
for a considerable number of years, in York Place.
The small figure to the left represents the late MR. RONALDSON of the
Post Office. He was one of the least men of the regiment, but a very zealous
volunteer. He is placed in the same Print with Osborne, in order to record an
anecdote of Sergeant Gould. In forming a double from a single rank, at a
squad drill, Francis became Osborne's rear man. Poor Francis was never seen ;
and Gould, addressing the next man, continued to call out-" Move to the right,
sir ; why the devil don't you cover 1" Little Francis at length exclaimed, with
great na;ivet&'' I can't cover-I do all I can !"
Mr. Ronaldson was Surveyor of the General Post Office, which situation he
held for upwards of forty years. He was a most active, spirited little personage,
and remarkably correct in the management of his official department. He kept
a regular journal of his surveys, which, on his demise, was found to have been
brought up till within a few days of his death.
In private life, Ronaldson was exceedingly joyous, full of wit and anecdote,
and was withal a man of rare qualifications. He had also some claims to a
literary character. He was a votary of the muses, and a great collector of fugitive
pieces. He left upwards of two dozen volumes of Xcraps--culled principally
from newspapers-consisting of whatever seemed to him valuable or
curious. He was also deeply versed in divinity j and, strange as it may appear,
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES. 345
several well-written sermons are among his manuscripts. As illustrative of his
talent for the pulpit, it is told of Mr. Ronaldson, that on one occasion he invited
an acquaintance, a clergyman, to take a drive with him in his carriage on a short
official journey. The day being the last of the week, his friend declined on the
ground that he had ‘‘ a sermon to study for to-morrow.” “ 0 never mind,” said
Ronaldson; “if that’s all, step in-I’ll assist you with it,” The clergyman
afterwards acknowledged the aid he had received; and expressed his astonishment
at the extent of information and the fluency of language displayed by the
Post-Office Surveyor.
When the duties of the day were over, Francis delighted to hurry home to
his literary labour. There you were certain to find .him-his coat off and “in
his slippers ”-busily engaged with scissors and paste-brush, while armfuls of
dissected papers, spread out on the table before him, sufficiently attested to his
rapacity as a gleaner.
We have glanced over several sheets of his sermons, and have seen his scrapbooks,
which are indeed curious. Several of the volumes are in manuscript,
and contain original as well as selected pieces, both in prose and verse. As a
specimen of the poetical department, the following may be taken :-
“ LINES ON SEEING, IN A LIST OF NEW MUSIC, A PIECE ENTITLED
THE WATERLOO WALTZ.’
“ A moment pause, ye British fair,
While pleasure’s phantoms ye pursue,
And say if sprightly dance or air,
Suit with the name of Waterloo !
Awful was the victory-
Chasten’d should the triumph be :
’Midst the laurels she has won,
Britain mourns for many a son.
“ Veil’d in clouds the morning rose ;
Nature seem’d to mourn the day,
Which consign’d, before its close,
Thousands to their kindred clay.
How unfit for courtly ball,
Or the giddy festival,
Was the grim and ghastly view,
Ere ev’ning clos’d on Waterloo !
“ See the Highland warrior rushing,
Firm in danger on the foe,
Till the life-hlood warmly gushing,
Lays the plaided hero low.
His native pipe’s accustom’d sound,
’Mid war’s infernal concert drowdd
Cannot soothe his last adieu,
Or wake his sleep on Waterloo !
,‘ Chasing o’er the cuirassier,
See the foaming charger flying ;
Trampling in his wild career,
All alike the dead and dying.
See the bullet, through his side,
Answer’d by the spouting tide ;
Helmet, horse, and rider too,
Roll on bloody Waterloo !
“ Shall scenes like these the dance inspire ?
Or wake enlivening notes of mirth ?
0 ! shiver’d be the recreant lyre
That gave the base idea birth !
Other sounds I ween were there-
Other music rent the air-
Other waltz the warriors knew,
When they clos’d on Waterloo !
‘I Forbear !-till time with lenient hand
Has sooth’d the pang of recent sorrow ;
And let the picture distant stand,
The softening hue of years to borrow.
When our race has pass’d away,
Hands unborn may wake the lay ;
And give to joy alone the view,
Of Britain’s fame on Waterloo !
,‘Apd 23, 1817.”
