Punch 1848: Vol 14

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aii) Pine 8 a 3 am ii ] oe bs os | _ KO ae ot ae t _——s Fe ma ee ii f LONDON: PUBLISHED AT THE OFFICE, 85, FLEET STREET. AND SOLD BY ALL BOOKSELLERS. 1848,

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LONDON: BRADBURY AND FVANS, PRINTERS, WHITFFRIARS.

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T is always a matter of sweet anxiety to Punch to confer, with a new volume, a new delight upon his readers. But new pleasures are difficult to find ; as, indeed, they ought to be, seeing how often we ill-use or neglect the old. Nevertheless, Punch, about to complete his fourteenth tome, retired to his Brown Study, and dropt himself—lightly as a snow-flake—in what upholsterers delight to call an easy chair. (We have at this moment in the press an essay— “Uneasy Thoughts in an Uneasy Seat.’’) Punch clasped his brow with his fingers, giving it a squeeze—(as Povssty’s Bacchante squeezeth the big bunch of grapes to express therefrom its heart-reviving juice)—to delight the heart and stomach of mankind. And then, subtly to aid the operation, Punch laid his other hand upon a (32-inch) globe. In idleness of faney, he thought some source of inspiration would break from that many-coloured ball. And then, still coaxing the idle thought—fondling the leisure moment, (and it is a pleasant sort of nurse-work this pleasant sort of weather,) Punch turned and turned the globe about, now his fingers trending towards the North Pole, and now towards the South. The heart of Punch was big with “virtuous great intent.” The difficulty was to successfuily produce the blessing. ‘‘ What further can I do for the world?”’ still mused Punch,—and still he turned and turned the sphere about. “Humph! Here’s France! Poor France! And Lovis-Narotzon—hatched from goose-egg in eagle’s nest—at this moment sitting to imaginary tailor for measure of imperial robe of moonshine ! ‘‘ Here comes up Spain. And now Isturtrz enters the Palace, and shows to the Minister the Prodigious Flea which Patmerston placed in his Ambassadorial Ear, with orders to make up his carpet-bag from London. “And here, Austria. Vienna, with royal lodgings to let; and the Tyrol big as bagpipe, with windy Majesty ! “Ha! Italy! And see Porr Pivs, with courteous invitation desires the Imperial TepEsco to withdraw his leg from the Boot.

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_ PREFACE. “* Russia—Hum! Nicnonas with an eye on Poland, and in his paternal brain cogitations upon the best and readiest mode of throwing a new supply of vitals to the Bear. ‘* Bavaria! an Ex-King seated by the Waters of Bitterness, drinking draughts therefrom out of a dancer’s slipper. ‘** America—China—New Zealand—Greece—Ireland ’—— And here Punch withdrew his hand from the'fast rolling globe, as from the point of a pike. For an hour and more, Punch, holding his right knee in his clasped hands,—thought how, in the world’s present confusion, he could best benefit the world. This, it will be confessed, was a great thought ; a thought vast as the Universe. How to make France peaceful, modest, self-sacrificing ? How to take the continual blister—of native fly—from the breast of Spain ? How to give wisdom and an Emperor at the same time to Austria ? How to help the Pope as Boots to Ferdinand ? How—how ?— And Punch, in despair, again turned the globe—again drummed upon it with his perplexed fingers. At length he jumped up, with a new resolution beating in him. ‘I will ’—cried Punch—* put forth a Charter for all human kind. A Charter of One Point, and it is—Let every man, rich and poor, strong and feeble, high and low, let every man do one thing, and that one shall be sufficient to all things—Let nim Do Ws BEST.”’ And that Punch might carry out his own injunction, he immediately nibbed his pen to commence his Eighth Year's | work—his Fifteenth Volume ! ~~ t) zh p ee y “ PUNCH ATTIRED BY THE Graces. (After GuIDO). nt eee =e hee [eS hoes

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=r wen ES | d ST fed | “|| , hil l \ gi ES TiS; JANUARY——FEBRUARY. == (ee : i) Mit | ME MB puny gpsebtcyy AT oe Please Wh IH ever 8 ornuch Cithd ,orit's ide a = ~— > r e : | t § {\ {J q \\ - a // S fr ay Ih |e = ‘ | icone ww | | -

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State of the Weather. Ice preponderates on the ponds, and the fish JANUARY, 18 |\Ciacumcis 17'M! try to make fissures for 29 28.4. Cun. 18 Th Prisca. the admission of air _|3M i9w| (0.7.D. amongst them. The bat Pr = UP y : _ folds himself up into a B= | ofthlBeses, Tw. |22/5 |Peeernt fF ball, and Nature seems 53 | 7K (Way, 0.0.0 )93.5 35. arz.Er| PS to have lost her spirits, =s A sem sei 22 P ee 1S. art. Er | 25 To Con. or Sr. >> although she has plenty 83 |,0%m \pieeen ba. | 26 W1 {avn| &S of “co d without to give me 11 Te| Hil. T. beg. | 27 Ta S- her animation at this fa ee g3 i 3'Tu| Hil.C.T. beg.| 29's sombre period. Lely Koasl-&: ben iso'ay |e 8. ave. j15)s 131M \Hil. T. ends, We Sirsarnzg) | | Tue Golden Number| = for 1848 will be as usual —Number One. a ena DAYS. The Month's Sport Made Earnest. ° SKATING. On, all ye bold spirits, who skate In frosty-faced exhilaration, Cutting figures of fun, or of eight, | Allow Punch to improve the occasion. Bright and smooth is Life’s face for the few Who have grace, skill, and courage to shew it; While for those whe may chance to pop through, There ’s precious cold bathing below it. No Humane Society’s station Provides the duck’d wretch with snug quarters, And restores his benumb’d circulation With blankets or brandies-and-waters. Popular Superstition. When a married couple are walking in Regent Street, it is very unlucky for the gentleman if the lady stops and looks into a bonnet-shop. | Hints on Taxes. Tue properties of matter are not liable to the Property-Tax ; nor is a horse used for taking an airing before the fire chargeable with the usual horse duty. Poets are not compellable to take out a poetical license every year from Somerset House; nor are they obliged to pay duty for a horse, on account of their Pegasus. RS iT TE: . Curiosities of Parental Experience. A scnoot bill, dated Christmas, 1847, gives us some very curious hints for the treatment of jnveniles. A charge of 10s. per quarter for medicine, tells us the interesting fact, that a child of eight years of age may consume 120 pennyworth of salts in twelve weeks, which gives exactly ten ounces per week, or a fraction less than an ounce and a half per day, to the unfortunate infant. The charge of 5s for hair-cutting within the same period, furnishes the remarkable fact, that the same child may have his head continually under the scissors, yet come home to the bosom of his parents with as luxuriant a crop as if experienced. he had not undergone the ten cuttings and comings again, which, ¢ estimating each operation in round numbers at 6d., he must have a4 ee cd lmanack, Post-Office. THe uniform penny post has no reference to FEBRUARY. MI 16;W . it pvase. Cen-|17/Ta| | the uniform worn by the s | 3\Tit Blaise (dlem.|18\F | +, letter carriers. “As deaf £3 | alr | 195 | | 8 as a post” has become a 33 | 5|S |Agatha 20§ Szrrv. Sev.) &3 : b ="> | 65 65S. avr. Er.|21/M | 53 common saying, because ze | 7m 22!Te [=F formerly a complaint gc | snl 3 wa canal FE addressed to the Post : | gl wi | 24, Th) D. or Cam.b,| = = $3 10'Tir Q.Vrer. mar.|25)F |St. Matthias | tse department Ss ae ee (LIE (1810) 26\8 | ae | listened to. P+ 12/8 ||27/$ sexac. Sux.| 2? | |13\g 6S. ave. Er.||28/M\Camb. Term| | + M \Falentine |/29/Tu (div. “| A WORD TO THE WISE. Be a | ‘Tuer who hid HEY who hide can XXIX, DAYS. | find. When you have lost your cigar-case, ask your wife for it. The Month’s Sport Made Earnest. COURSING. How it frisks thro’ the flowers, that silly heart of ours, Now cocks up its scut, and now playfully cowers; Now greedily nibbles, till, softly and warm, In some snug self-indulgence it makes up its form. When Duty and Conscience, swift hounds, are let: slip, And the poor silly heart starts away from their grip; With anguish and trouble, round stone and thro’ stubble. How it winds in and out, tries each dodge and each double ; All in vain, sob and strain! One bound more, and it hangs, Cramp’d, crush’d, and convulsed, in those terrible fangs. Custom of the Month. On the Fourteenth of this month, a custom prevails among female servants of neg- lecting to clean windows, scrub floors, make beds, wash plates and dishes; of letting joints burn, pots boil over, and their work «go in general remain undone, Weet in order to loiter at area doors, looking out for the postman and a Valentine. On this day the members of the police force are unusually on the alert to secure those hearts which, in an epistolary form, are given them in charge by cooks and housemaids. Large-Text Copies for Young Ladies. A Batt is Bliss. A Small Waist is Elegant. Adore Young Officers. Paleness is interesting. Preserve your Complexion. 4 Seek Approbation. Live Wholly for Dress, Encourage the Bashful. () Refuse Not Hastily. A) if Prophecy for 1848. Ir you give a man enough rope he will hang himself; so, if ou give a nation too much line—that is to say, Railway ine—suspension must be the consequence. 1 Tr” a f™\\\ — , = hy) > Wo~ a . Oe |) ER A 2c . AS —= =

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Father of the Family. ‘‘ Ou! 17's ALL STUFF AND NONSENSE, MRS. G., IT MIGHT HAVE BEEN MANAGED OVER AND OVER AGAIN = | BY THIS TIME.” Mrs. G. “Law, MY DEAR, HOW YoU TALK! AND I’M SURE YOU HAVEN'T BEEN PUT TO MUCH INCONVENIENCE.” Mother-in-Law, “Tere, THERE, Jemima, Don’r ANSWER HIM; IT’S QUITE RIDICULOUS.” tan eC | bs | Diy) | | ia r Hi A pm Hr IN nav hi 4 (4 GEG: mre 6 (i i My Ma WW w_- = | Lg aie SLs i Ses WAN 7 at fe») aR \ r \\ a

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Moral Reflection. | WHERE

is there 1) W [David [7] ISt. Patrick. | * iW a more jt Chad, 18|s' |Ed. K. W. 8, ; 3k 19)§ 2 S. 1x Lawn social 4 | body of | / ¢#/ 48 201M ae | RE 5S Qurxq. Sun,||21\ To Benedict - men, £9 | 6/M| /22|W £ than the sal? Shr. Tues, ||23/Tix Bg ef- || S8/oa oes An. LavrD| $3 « | or | 5 : steak Club? and yet all $3 oF 261g [3 8.1m Lana] o’er, The hedge-rows creamed with hawthorn bloom, The brook, > Whose gilded ripples glisten in the sun, 4 Is sparkling with innumerable laughs : As though the River-God were Punch. Tlie - gale ~ Breathes the rich incense of a thousand = flowers— lm True spirit of Millefleurs. Oh! Eau (yet who in| or raise that cry, in such a scene as nif} this ?) Which art the produce of Cologne, thy sweets Are assafeetida to these. Regaled With such a banquet, cease, oh, cease to crave For thine habitual stimulant, my Nose! The Birds are carolling on every spray ; And he who roams the groves hath, like the dame Who rode unto the Cross of Banbury, Music where’er he goes. Thou Fast One, list Yon Minstrel singing as he soars to Heaven, And know what ’tis to have a genuine Lark !

Police Astronomy. Taurus, or the Bull’s-eye, may be traced in the Aries very fre- quently ; and Cas- tor will be visible in the kitchen immediately after- wards. Adage of the Mouth, Tr is said that “A bushel of March dust is worth a king’s ransom.” We hope that, in consi- deration of our financial difficulties, March will evince even a more than usual liberality in coming down with the dust,

Caution 19 Lanres.—Curi is the Joszru Any of the heart.

The Month’s Sport Made Earnest. RACING. We’re all of us entered for some stake or other, But life’s handicap rarely is run on the square ; In the world, like the turf, a man cheats his own brother, And there ’s no Lorp GrorcE Bentinck to start us all fair. And as oft the best horse is dead beat on the course, _ By some nameless outsider with good jock to ride him ; So a man, to succeed, besides bottom and speed, —s_—. Wants Tact, like a Currney or Joun Day, to guide him,

Gi ei 8 ne | ay Vir, WACROAAAMLEZBN ch’. i ——_ a +

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The Opera. ; \ a PY \} Door-Keeper. “Bra your Parpos. Six—nvr you must, INDEED, Sir, BE IN FuLt Dress.” \ yf i N. | Snob (excited). ** Fur. Deess!! Waxy, wHart po Yer. CALL THIS?" ly sai

wey age —— ? . , wie dt —— SS ——SS = =n Why ae ‘i hy ==

an A Sporting Gent practising at Jackson's Ground for the Hunting Season.

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G ? 1848. 45) QL? unch s aby finanack.

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The Music of Wheat.

A 2 not. He has a patent for giving advice and Z ggecking his mind very freely at all times. » He must be consulted in any step you under- take, from the purchase of a poodle to the choice of a wile. He wears your collars, your gloves, and does not mind puttin on wy great coat, or even, at a stretch, wearing your polish leather boots and ——s off with them. He will stop with you a month, if you ask him for a week, and will bring one or two especial friends—“ capital fellows” he calls them—if you ask him to dinner. In return, he is obliging, obsequious, has a won- derful capacity for drinking and smoking; tells a good story, and sings a good song; wins your money at écarté with the best grace in the world; will get you to accept a bill, and almost persuade ~~ he is doing you a favour; and, if you should be penniless eee he will meet you in the street, and, as a Model Friend, cut you.

Eclipses. In the Almanacks of last year no mention was made of the Eclipse of all the stars at once by the newly-discovered planet, Jenny Linn, who is expected to appear annually for some years, and repeat the same phenomenon. A Puzzler. Peruars some of our young friends who are skilful in arith- metical calculations may be able to inform us by this time next year, how much the “jug-jug of the siehtingsle ” will conveni- ently hold.

Maxims for Litigants.

“ REPENT,” says some- body or other, “a good action if you can.” You very easily can. You have only to go to law, and you will repent the best action in the world.

POPULAR SUPERSTITION. Wuen the tax-gatherer calls, if the servant tells him you are at home, it is extremely unlucky.

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— re ALS hig rill = G : “aD pitt ID ' OLA SAN . f iy vane ul You “pick up” Hunters for next to Nothing. THERE HE Is. HeE’s QUIET, WELL BRED, AND LAW! WITH YOUR WEIGHT, HE ’S Dealer. “‘Tuere now! You want a Hunter. UP To ANY Hounps, AND AN UNCOMMON CLEVER FENCER !” Sporting Gent. ‘Ou! come Now! THAT WON’TDO, I’vE HEARD OF A ‘ORSE DANCING; BUT I’m NOT 80 JOLLY GREEN AS TO BELIEVE A "ORSE CAN FENCE, YOU KNow!”’ a. SOO i THe Mt int | Mi 0 Fe Ot; DA hh hi fite Ze, K, . — oF ™ Z ely a

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¢ 5 i j Female Education. _ We know a lady, who lives in one of the supe- rior Squares, who, hear- ing that Gutta Percha soles were all the fashion, actually sent to her fish- monger’s for a pair. Proverbial Puzzle. A Moratist recom- mends us to bridle the belly. Would he have us to be continually put- ting a bit in it? Business is Man’s screen ; Woman’s blind.

‘ it} Old

38.

First Quar., 8th, 930 mo, Full Moon, 16th, 9 20 mo, nm

I F | Mids. D.]22'g |st.. Mor | 3 23g |> Sa. Trin.| 2 27/Tk 29) |

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Margaret 20 a 301g 6S... tar | ea M

Judgment, thin. the Ju The latter to follow ; THERE are yarious kinds of Judgment, First, there is the Judgment which your friends they have a right to pass upon every one of your actions; and secondly, there is dgment whic! a court of law passes upon your actions, no matter the cause. ou are compelled ut the former you may please yourself about. You had better show your Judgment in seeking neither. A man of Judgment isa sensible fellow, who agrees with everything you say. A Judgment is a stupid donkey, who differs altogether from you.

European Concert.

_ Tue four Allied Sovereigns have, during last year, been playin: insuch harmony together, that we should not wonder if they starte a series of Concerts, after the style of the Ethiopian Melodies, Louvis-Puriirre would do the part of Old Bones wonderfully, as he is certainly the cleverest hand of the Royal Quartette in fingering notes.

The Month’s Sport Made Earnest. YACHTING, AL so taut and so trig, regulation and rig, The yacht-squadron ’s a fleet, every inch of it ; And to each yachting dandy the tar’s life comes handy, Save the peril, privation, and pinch of it. So when life’s course is clear, we hand, reef, and steer, Ape the blue-jacket’s accents, his air, and his act ; But stern duty’s rough work, we ’re all ready to shirk, And, tho’ passing for sailors, are yachts-men in fact.

man of no

The Flour of Life. | __ AUGUST. “Lire,” exclaims a fb |Lam. Day. 17D sage, “is made up of § = settee: 4 seconds.” So is an in- H i s A . ce | 41F !90\g lo 8.4. Tarn! Ze ferior speciesof twopenny BS | 5s | 21)M 28 buster. S= | 6g |7 8.4. Tarn.|29' 1 Eo n° 7M UP. ALEb.1844) 23|W 35 Ez 8/1 ||24/Tit| St. Banruo, 5.2, : Po | ow) 25)F 22 imi ££ |107tu|st. Zaerence|26)8 [e.as.b.1010| &* || 4 Simile Snuffed Out. a hie [Pos days en./37/6§ |10 8.s.Farm| a; A Wiseacre has re- ES |i3 [pe of drow! BB marked, that soldiers in |13'§ 8 S. a.Parn./29) ‘Th/St. J.B. beb. 4|/M ,

peace are like chimnies in summer. How s0, when it is notorious that young officers are always smoking ? 1130] W 15/'Ie} I'31| ta! i | | =

XXXI, DAYS.

The Month’s Sport Made Earnest. DEER-STALKING, THosE who go out deer-stalking don’t venture on walking, Or talking, or running, or eaping ; ; | But thro’ dry and thro’ damp alike, rush, rock, and swamp alike, \ On their bellies go crawling and creeping. | { | | |

Hence my moral hath flowed: howe’er foul be your road, And how foully soe’er you go thro’ it, The world ne’er cries shame, provided the game Be but large enough when you get to it. |

A Custom of the Month. onpon Fashionables have a custom of quit- ting Town in the month of August. On their departure, the shutters of their man- sions are all closed, which serves as a public intimation that they have taken flight. Many persons, whose means do not allow } them to Tk this fashionable evstom | to the full, and who are yet desirous to have the credit of following it, limit themselves to shutting up their win- dows, resorting for change of air from the atmosphere of the drawing-room, to inhale the breezes which ventilate the two-pair back. Poetry of the Seasons. SUMMER, Well done, thou glorious Orb! Well done indeed, Thou Sun; for Nature now is one great feast, Roasted, and boiled, and fried, and baked by thee. Thy fire hath boiled the fishes in the streams ; Roasted the living mutton on the Downs; Fried all the ve on its very bed ; And baking the potatoes under ground, : Hath cooked them growing; so that men may dig Taters all hot ! A Remark for Every Day in the Year. Dip you ever see a young lady in an omnibus pull out a purse, but she was sure to open the end which eontained the sovereigns ? PRovERB FOR THE TaBiE.—lIf “three removes are as bad as ( a fire,” what shall we say of six courses and a dessert ?

Porutar Svurerstition.—Spilling of salt is most unlucky when you let it drop upon your apple-pudding.

A Cry rrom a Bacuetor or Forty Years’ 8tanpinc.—

There is no tyranny like the tyranny of a laundress ! [

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Ni a 7 HD MOS UR SEPTEMBER——OCTOBER. | {| \] “‘\ ——— = LU i TT tt I Su || WN \7 AA oT $ i Ze Rr = Michaelmas Day. The Cheap Tailor’s Goose provides himseif wita a Shooting Jacket and “ Vest.” , Mf ral We \\ d, NE ‘a \ g a fing. % = =. a i, a! sl 3 — ‘sb ( RS ~ . WwW ce \ x By Long Vacation. ** Now THEN, LaTITAT, TUCK IN YOUR SIX-AND-EIGHTPENNY !” ™ * \\ oncrA \ wr 2

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rieth boots Enormous Appetites. A Woman’s appetite for scandal grows by what it feeds upon. The same may be said of a donkey’s appetite for thistles. man’s appetite for law is a little soon satisfies the most voracious newspaper’s appetite for Gooseberries and ‘l'remendous Turnips is never appeased. satiated :

WISDOM AND WEATHER. He who hath corns car- a barometer in his A glutton. A

| 1|F |Giles \j16|5 | 2s 17/§ 13S. a.Tern. es l3g 11S. a.Tarin. 18) M | 22 | 4M| 19\'Tv Se | 5 Te Old Barthol. 20,\W Ember Week o ae | 6 w| \21) Tit Sr. Marra. aa | 7) Ti) Enurchus 22)" 23 | 8\F |Nat.B.V.M. 23/5 | 32 9s 24S 14S. a.Tar os 10 & 12S. a.Tary. 25)M| == (11M \|26/1e 3 |12\1 ||27| | - [13] WW [soon Ecl. v.||28)Tit — Holy Cross 29\F St.Micmart L5|F | 30/5 |St. Jerome _!

XXX. DAYS.

upon youn He rea

or smoking. The Month's Sport Made Earnest. PARTRIDGE-SHOOTING. i Txo’, when after the Which keep shot li Should you let fly at random, however nigh hand ’em, You’ve no chance of ruffling a feather. So, when after life’s game, tho’ your weapon, or aim, e all that you brag it, If at too much at once you let fy, you ’re a dunce; Cover only your one bird—and 6 Hand, or eye, may

to the theatre. discount. ing in bed. perfection. ————_—_—_— Custom of the Month. Octoser is famous for the rural festivities which attend the celebration of the nuptials of Malt and Hops, which are now united in the happy state of beer; in which condition, also, are a large portion of the company who assist at the interesting ceremony. ridges, you use ELEy’s cartridges, bullet together, ug it,

A Model Son. He dresses in black, with a white neckcloth. He never goes ¢ He is not fond of cards, though he takes a hand occasionally at whist to please his old father; but then it is only for peuny points. He has no talent for running in debt, or any genius ; He does not flirt, or read light publications, or have noisy friends to call upon him. He pays ready money for everything, and insists : He has a small sum in a particular safe Bank, dances but seldom, ad then only with ladies with a very certain income. oes not care much for beauty, and has a soul above pins and rings. He never —_ the servants up, and has a horror of He decants the wines, and compliments his father adroitly upon his “ tawny old Port.” somewhere. He 4 P .’ He carves without spilling any of the cet gravy at table, and is very obliging in executing all paternal errands and commissions. There is rarely morethan one Model Son in each family; but L f ut he does duty enough for haif-a-dozen, as he is continually being held up to the other sons, who bear ¢ a him no very violent love in consequence, as the very model of

ios “ As

= AW ee | . egin to flow, is to sto fg | Ti) 21/5 (Bat. of Trat,) 3 2 them. Sometimes a vel- 3 oH — - om | GE Faith = 12316 (18 8.0.Tase) RO vet dress will check the tremendous rush. But | 8/§ hie .&.Tatn,, -4'Tu : ae é yy occasionally it is piped on, 12t.

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orn A Giass \ SSS ~ || Ree XN ESSN ae — A A <K QO

AND YOU ARE HEARTILY <A Leow SSN The Influenza. ‘* THis IS REALLY VERY KIND OF YOU TO CALL. CAN I OFFER YOU ANYTHING—A Basin OF GRUEL

National Defences. John Buil, “ Loox nere, Younc Fxeiiows, THESE ARE SOME OF OUR NATIONAL DEFENCES,

//4 / aa weeeee myn TELL M14 “tt = < <r ea

WELCOME TO A Goop BELLYFUL.” or Coven Mixture! Don’r say No.”

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SS nek? 2 e 2 unch s CW) Stuff a Cold and aE Starve a Cough. no a ¢ oye Gnecnae —s. vED MBER é dip and colds are prevalent. LW/Aut Sarwze}/16/ Tis ; If you are troubled with “i _ 4 ees Pi a cough, go to the work- i | 4 19 § 22 S.a.Tars., ¥2 house; i tate your company.

Shameful Ignorance. LaTELY,a daughter of Mrs. Malaprop sent her MADAME Tussaup’s, to have the first-born to little thing warinated. _if with a cold, et invited to the Lord ayor’s Feast, and imi-

15 s j20 S.a.Tarn.| 20\M (Gun. P.|2) ‘Tr\Pst.R.b, 1840 “sung 2 | 7/Te| 22)W} 18 Wi, (>. 1841/23 F| = h Or ALES 5. > | O/T (Lp. M.D. 241F 25/5 |Mich. T. en 11/8 |Martin 26'§ |23 S.a.Tarin.| 12\§ |21 S.a.Tar,|/27|M| } 13) M | Br. ©.T.d.m.||25/Te} | 14) ti 29) W} 1151: Ieckutue {1301 Ise. Awnnes XXX. DAYS. “ye ery *2y¥ 67. G “HIEs ‘MOO! A , First Quar., 4th, 6 2 mo, Full Moon, Lith, 1 35 aft, —

The Month’s Sport Made Earnest. * Turrty days hath November,” but who can remember Any ten of the thirty that threw aside That dank yellow density, which wraps this immense city In a fog, which, the French say, breeds suicide ? No ground the report has ; e’en November its sport has: France may talk, the true Briton will never say die: He ’ll go out every day, a-hunting his way, And at least, on the Fifth, will find game—in a Guy. Poetry of the Seasons.

Fallacies of the Irish. Tuat Ireland is the “First gim of the sea.” That the Irish are the finest pisantry in the world. That they have a right to be idle, and that England has a right to support them in their idleness. That Repeal will be carried. That any Irish Mem- ber will die on the floor ever THERE is a stoppage in the currency Of all the streams, which cannot liquidate Their tribute to the sea. The frozen soil,. Hard up, no more repays the husbandman. Each object, crusted o’er with rime and snow, Seems whitewashed. Of their furniture the Are stripped; and everywhere Distringas On one vast picture of Insolvency We gaze around; and, did we not repose In Mother Earth’s resources confidence, Should see no prospect of a dividend Of sixpence in the pound, GUYS. WINTER, trees reigns.

of the House of Commons. That they won all the battles of the English. : That the English are at all opposed to them, or not anxious to assist them. That the Bnglish like lending—or rather, giving—them money, and being abused for it afterwards. THE EARLIEST WINTER FASHIONS. Ava may be considered to have set the very earliest Winter Fashion, for the only coat he wore was a bare-skin.

— '» “Gib? ¥ i we! in) ae

cS ° ad fnanack,

First Quar., 3rd, 8 5 aft. Full Moon, 10th, 11 43 mo, 1|E 28 3s 4\N 5\Te 6| W| St. Nicholas 7\'Ta 8|F |Cone.B. VM 9S 10) |2 8.1m Apv 1l\“i 12) 13)“ 14/Th \L5|F { ~ o> DECEMBER.

| | | |

\Lucy “ ‘Cam. MT. e. t 7s 3 8.1n Apv, ||18\M |Oxf.M.'T. en.| Apvenr Sv.||19\Tv| 20|W| Ember Week| 2 21/Tu|Sr. Tuomas. 92\F |(Snortest D, 23/8 | 24/8 |4 8. ow Apv.| , |

30)8 [Silv.| 31S ht Sa. Cur. 1 |

we continue to under consequence of our eru XXXI. DAYS.

Prize Animals. tion. a

Cure for a “ Dreadful Cold.” How often it is that a young lady, when pressed for a song, is afllicted with a sudden cold. The best cure for this is to ask her sister to sing,

The Shortest Day. Tue day before that on which you have a bill becoming due, which you are unable to meet.

How Txue!—A fat man has no friends in an omnibus,

Bacon said very justly, that learning makes a full man; and if the same rule applies to the inferior animals, the Learned Pig ought to be the fullest and fattest in the whole cattle-show. Our own learning and that of our dog Zody is beginning to tell upon both of us; so that we shall be shortly qualified for exhibition, if go the constant enlargement that is the

TuINGs TO BE REMEMBERED.—A crossing-sweeper on a muddy ay, and a waterman at a cab-stand. The Month’s Sport Made Earnest. ALL SORTS. To suit peoples’ fancies of every sort, Each month, we have seen, has its separate sport ; But, “ Multum in parvo,” the last is the best ; For December includes all the sports of the rest. The crack shot, in arrear, may go shooting the moon ; For sailing, the Folkstone boats start every noon ; Upon your own credit there’s very nice skating, With the duns mark’d as “dangerous” who’ve been long waiting. A. Then there’s fishing for money by hook or by crook ; And, for making your own, meeting other folks’ book ; If of hunting your creditors relish the fun, What drag’s like a debt, and what dog like a dun? For the chase is the chase, be its game hares and foxes, Christmas bills, Christmas books, or Christmas-boxes.

Page 17

PUNCH’S TESTIMONIAL TO HIMSELF. Hitnerto modesty has, perhaps, been the prevailing feature—or at | sidered—no one came forward to propose a testimonial to him. He least one of the prevailing features—of My. Punch’s character. He | has therefore determined, rather reluctantly, to lay aside his modesty, has seen testimonials offered to, and accepted by, all kinds of people, | and present himself with a testimonial to himself, got up by himself in without the same compliment being extended to himself, but he has | honour of himself, for the gratification of himself, and as a slight mark never complained. He witnessed the getting-up of a testimonial to | to himself of what is thought by himself of himself, for qualities which Mz. Hupson for making his own fortune; and though Puzch had long ' none but himself, if he may be allowed to judge for himself, appears to ago achieved this title to public gratitude—for such it seems to be con- | have displayed. He has accordingly caused a shield to be prepared, in VOL, XIV, 2

Page 18

: PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. commemoration of some of his numerous labours, and he selects seven, taken quite at random from his catalogue of achievements, which he confidently places against the seven of his predecessor, Hercurzs, which the whole world has, for the last few centuries, been making such afuss about. When it is remembered that Pusch performs no less than forty or fifty Herculean labours in a week—for he defies Hercuzs, assisted by his entire club, to make one such joke in a month as he makes in half a minute—he thinks it will be allowed that he is entitled to the testimonial which he has this day the pleasure to accept at his own and his artists’ hands. “SILENCE IN THE GALLERY!” We hear with great satisfaction that, in the construction of the new House of Commons, the architect has endeavoured to preserve a main — of our Constitution. We allude to the exclusion of strangers rom the galleries during the mystic rites of adivision. This privilege of the House, so important, so intact, is doubtless cherished by all true Britons. By means of it, the numbers on a division are kept perfectly secret—quite so; the names of the voters on either side are no more divulged than their speeches ; and thus is secured the independence of the members and honour of the House. We rejoice, therefore, to announce that this prerogative will be rendered more convenient in its continuance, by an ingenious mechanical contrivance. In the reporters’ gallery there will be suspended by pullies over each “ gentleman of the press” a large cover in the form of an extinguisher, which will descend on the signal being given by a wink from the Speaker. When members become suddenly alive to the actual presence of the gentlemen (at whom they have nevertheless been speaking for two hours, perhaps), and when the ancient rights of Parliament enjoin that strangers be excluded, the reporters will be effectually “‘ put out” by the descent of the extin- guishers. As for the other gallery, there will be underneath each stranger a trap-door, through which he will be made to disappear; whilst those having Speaker’s orders will be whisked up through the roof by concealed wires. THICK AND THIN ADVOCACY WITH A VENGEANCE! Our readers are aware that the trial of Rerp and M‘Caze for. the Mirfield murders issued in the conviction of both the prisoners; and that. subsequently a confession was made by Rerp, exonerating M‘Case from all share in the transaction. Thus much, it was stated, had been confessed, previously to the trial, to Mr. Seymour, Rerp’s Counsel, who nevertheless endeavoured, in his capacity of advocate, to throw the guilt of the murder on M‘Case, the innocent man. The accusation of this atrocious conduct is denied by Mr. Seymour, who, however, in a letter to the Zimes, propounds the following precious piece of morality :— ** And now, Sir, assuming that which I deny, and admitting for a moment that a ‘ full confession ’ was made to me previous to the trial, which wholly exculpated M‘Cang, I am yet to learn that I would be deserving of blame for endeavouring to throw the whole guilt upon M‘Canr, if the evidence by which the jury were bound to decide, warranted such a course. Iam yet to learn that this would be either morally or professionally wrong.” _ Mr. Sermovr’s moral, if not his professional education, is ver. incomplete. A barrister may perhaps be warranted in going throug thick and thin to save his client, though that client may be a known cut-throat ; but surely he is not — in going through anything so thin as Mr. Seymour’s idea of the forensic conscience, or through anything so thick as innocent blood. Mr. Polk’s Olive-Branch. In Prestpent Poik’s Message to Congress—a document which in small type is at least three times as long as our arm—there occurs the passage foliowing :— ** Whilst our armies have advanced from victory to victory, from the commencement of the war, it has always been with the olive-branch of peace in their hands; and it has been in the power of Mexico, at any step, to arrest hostilities by accepting it.” We take it, however, that the tender of this olive-branch to the Mexicans was accompanied by acertain condition. BRoTHER JONATHAN extends his olive-branch as Mr. Turpin used to present his pistol— with the demand of “ Your money or your life.” Song of our We Volume, As greens that in the garden grow Are cut, and come again; So Punch a volume yields, and so Keeps growing on amain. But Punch, he is an evergreen, That beats your best Savoys, ¢ In season both in Winter keen And Summer’s heat, my boys! Chorus.—But Punch, &ce. What if Taxation’s weight should press— And ’tis a grievous yoke— At least, the national distress Punch lightens with a joke. But still, by all ’twill be confess’d— That is, at least it should— That his philosophy in jest Turns oft to earnest good. Chorus.—Oh! Punch, &c. And Puach will still his colours wave, And nail them to the mast, And battle do with fool and knave, Whilst knaves and fools shall last. And Punch will still his trumpet blow, Tn guise of a buffoon; But hopes his hearers, high and low, Will own they like the tune. Chorus.—Oh! Punch, &c. THE CROMWELL LETTERS. Tue genuineness of certain letters attributed by Taomas CaRLYLE to | OxIver CromwELt is becoming a matter of dispute, and Punch there- fore, seeing a squabble going on, joins the group of disputants with the off-hand exclamation of “ Now then! what’s all this about? what’s the row?” One of the reasons given for the letters not being genuine is, that CromwELt asks a friend to buy him “a new cravat,” which is thought to be as absurd as though the Protector had mentioned a “Byron Tie,” a “Strong Youth’s Oxonian,” a “ Tactiont Wrap- rascal,” a “ Registered Regulation Dickey,” or any other modern monstrosity that misdirected ingenuity has devised. CROMWELL’s declaration in one of his alleged epistles, that he will “stand no non- sense,” is strongly, and we think justly, objected to as a bit of an anachronism, for we suspect that the Stoke-Pogis revolution, of which poor Hoop was the historian, gave us the earliest official intimation on record of a desire to “stand no nonsense ;” a resolution at which, if we remember rightly, the beadle of the bewildered borough had arrived. Taking the CromweE tt Letters altogether, and then taking them one by one, we think the Caam—weE.t Letters would be the most appropriate | title by which they could be called. Punch’s New Battery. THERE is no sacrifice which Punch is not ready to make for his country’s good. He therefore generously offers the Government a suggestion gratis, which he knows they would give him several thousand pounds for. It is a simple expedient, not for strengthening, but for rendering absolutely a sens = our national defences. Let every accessible point along the coast be fortified with a large fire-engine, to be supplied from a reservoir of the new anesthetical agent. It will be only necessary to play liberally on an invading army with chloroform, to reduce the whole host to a state of utter insensibility. Our military as well as our surgical operations will thus be performed without pain ; our triumph will be bloodless ; and a small addition to the fire-brigade will enable us wholly to dispense with a standing army. A Clerical Comedy. We cannot compare the active BisHor or Oxrorp to a snail, or we should say that he had decidedly drawn in his horns, by withdrawing his opposition to Dr. HamppEen. The Regius Professor, it seems, is orthodox, after all. We do not often hear of amateur performances among the clergy; but, considering what has been the termination of the HamppeEN controversy, we may say, that the prelates and others engaged in it have been enacting the comedy of Much Ado about Nothing. ¢ )

Page 19

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. PURVEYORS TO THE QUEEN. It would be nice employment for an arithmetician to ascertain the exact number of butchers in and near the metropolis who are, or who themselves, “ By Special Appointment, Purveyors to the Queen.” Presuming that Her Masesty most graciously keeps her appointments, the consumption of meat in the Royal household must be something truly terrific in order to give every Purveyor even an occasional turn. We have no doubt that the sale of a kidney for Prince ALBERT’s breakfast, or a quarter of a pound of the thick end of a neck of mutton to supply one of the Royal infants with a teacupful of broth, would be instantly taken advantage of by the fortunate butcher as a pretext for mounting the Royal Arms, collaring the British Lion with the golden collar, and writing up “ Purveyor to the Queen;” but even the most hommopathic amount of custom in each case could hardly allow of such an extensive distribution as to account for the number of tradesmen who claim the honour of ministering to the wants of the Royal household. Such a multiplicity of Purveyors as we must assume to exist if the boasts of the butchers are true, would necessitate a constant relay of oe and butchers’ boys, continually traversing the road to Windsor Castle with baskets on their arms, How the cooking of the meat a for the QuEEN’s Family is accomplished, we are quite unable to imagine; for, supposing every Purveyor to send in only an ounce per day on an average, the five thousand soi-disan¢ Purveyors would give | bhava if Lda) IAL R, LY Ms) Hb Ab : SW al BY: m five thousand ounces, which, as any one Pe. NS a oY 7%, SS) ya Expected Downfall of the Stage. ConSIDERABLE consternation has been caused at the Dramatic Authors’ Society by the announcement of a decision just come to by the criminal tribunal of the first resort in Berlin, that translations are a violation of copyright. If this should become a recognised rule of law in England, a poor-rate will have to be collected for the British dramatists, nine- teen-twentieths of whom will be thrown instantly out of employ, and must starve unless other occupations of handicraft can be found for them. If the translation branch of our dramatic literature is to be lopped off, it is calculated that at least three-fourths of the London theatres must close for want of sustenance. The dealers in French dictionaries, who have hitherto derived a large annual income from the acted and unacted British dra- matists, will, we understand, petition against the recognition of the principle laid down by the Prussian tribunal. The panic in the green-rooms and garrets of the metropolis is almost indescribable, and the inquiries at the office of the Dramatic Authors’ Society havebeen very numerous. Signs of the Times. Tue Monster season is setting in, if not with quite as much severity as during the great Dwarf year, when we had a continual well knows who is learned in Troy weight, ‘ Jos Y Se- ) NY “yi Ki yi} or avoirdupois—we are not, by the bye— amounts to ever so many pounds, or stones, =t* gh @: A Wh 1! We 1 NY Ups Ne UM Ae N ip _— S or hundred-weight, as the case may be. / Dp NS ae Vi d AA RS HY, 1 AR VCO ee He PAN Or RUAN SS —— At Ri The perquisite of the royal dripping must | = be a fortune in itself to the culinary chef, | Tom Tuums for several months, yet, with and we are sure there ought to be no/| considerable indications of a hard winter, “Ow - discontent among politicians of either | The Spanish Gotan has already made his ____._ party; for with such resources as the | appearance at the Cosmorama Rooms, in Kite en at Windsor Castle contains, there | Regent Street. The “Oldest Inhabitant need be no difficulty in supplying every-| does not remember anything of the kind body with a “sop in the pan.” half so big, or a quarter so ugly. THE DEAD ALIVE. TnoveH it is an old saying, that “ dead men tell no tales,” it does not by any means follow that dead men write no letters to poranees. The Editor of the Times has been lately favoured with the following polite communication, from a gentleman who ought, according to his own showing, to be a nes “tenant of the tomb,” instead of an occupant of No. 25, Ludgate Street. We will, however, allow the lively defunct to speak for himself :— *¢ Srr,—I presume in the hurry of busi your correspondent has made a mistake— viz., that of returning the name of ‘ Mr. Collingwood’ as one of the Common Councilmen for the Ward of Castle Baynard, who died last June. According to the advertisement in your paper of to-day, you will perceive it to be your obedient servant, ** 25, Ludgate Street, Dec. 22. *Wittiam Henry CaRiiy.” It will be seen that Mr. Henry Cartin objects to the publication of another gentleman’s name “as one of the Common Councilmen, who died last June,” and adds, “you will perceive it to be your obedient servant, Witiiam Henry Carin,” who, if there is any virtue in grammar, died last June,” and ought to have been returned accordingly. We cannot suppose that a being so sagacious as a Common Councilman can have been so absurd as to write to a ry°% to announce his own death, and we therefore find it difficult to look upon the note in question as anything more than a ghostly production; and if we trust to the letter, we must give credit to the spirit. The King who is never Drunk. THERE formerly prevailed an opinion that it was conducive to a man’s health to be drunk once a month. This is now considered to be a popular fallacy. It derives, however, some confirmation from the indisposition under which Lovis-Put.irre was observed to labour at the late opening of the French Chambers. It is many months since the King of the French has been drunk—at his subjects’ tables. CHRISTMAS IN IRELAND. CHRISTMAS-DAY was kept a complete holiday throughout all Treland. eae whatever was transacted. Not even a single landlord was shot. | that, Syrus -alls Geta “ viridis” or “ green,” a piece 0 y , . PUNCH AT WESTMINSTER. Tre Westminster boys last week performed the Adelphi of TerENcE in the presence of the QueEN and Prince ALBERT, and a more than usually distinguished Ade/phi audience. In the epilogue we observe F Latinit which we believe is bu. ~wed from a canine passage in our own pages. We recognise also several cicditable attempts at joking on the subject of the late General Election, and some respectable quizzing both of Free Trade and Protection, as also of Pelides, and of the Country Party, and all parties politically concerned. In particular we have to notice the joke of non pee intended in the sense of zon mentior, which—pardon the expression, ladies—is “I lie not.” : Now, whilst we acknowledge the force of the pun, we cannot admit the justice of the innuendo, and we must say that there is no such word as Muntzior in our book, any more than there is in Ainsworth’s Diction- ary. This observation we feel called upon to make, because, from the general character of the Epilogue, we perceive that one of the books read at Westminster is Punch. We hope the Westminster scholars will persevere in the study of our classic periodical, by their familiarity with | whieh they were mainly enabled to afford such high gratification to their | illustrious auditors, and will, we trust, give continually increasing satis- faction to their parents and friends. Canine or Canonical? Tue Fermanagh Reporter advertises a sale of the effects of the late reverend and celebrated Father Tom Macuire; among them being his “universally valued and justly-prized kennel of pure-bred greyhounds.” No doubt the worthy priest was a good pastor to his flock; but, in the bullism of his country, we may take the liberty of observing, that he was equally a good shepherd to his kennel. PLAYWRIGHTS AND PLAGIARISTS. Tue criminal tribunal of Berlin has decided that translations are a violation of .copyright. At this rate there is a copyright in ideas. Should our own Law Courts also affirm that principle, it will be a bad job for some of our dramatic authors. | | ]

Page 20

PUNCH. OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF MR. BRIEFLESS. INTRODUCTION. REAT interest is taken by the ey in legal bio- phies, a fact evidenced y the favour bestowed on the admirable works of Lorp CAMPBELL and Mr. Horace Twiss, whose productions, it is true, relate to those who have actually occupied the woolsack, while it is only a Lord Chancellor in posse who now offers his memoirs to _ the world. It usually hap- pens that the early J struggles of genius form the most attractive pages career, and it is humbly suggested that the reader of these papers may give them all the charm of an autobiography of a THURLOW, an ERSKINE, or an Expon, by simply investing Mr. BRIEFLEsS with an imaginary Great Seal, and fancying that he is already lolling on that woolsack upon which it is his honest ambition—some day or other—to recline. : ‘ rare Most great men put off the writing of their memoirs until their high position is gained, and their impressions of the various incidents they met with on the journey have become almost effaced by time and dis- tance ; but how much better would it have been if they had chronicled the circumstances of their professional progress on the instant, and supplied their memoirs fresh and fresh, like new milk, or hot and hot, like mutton chops, to an appreciating world ? Mr. Briertess considers himself in the light of a traveller on a long and arduous journey. His sensations are those of a determined voyager, who, though bound for the Pyramids, has got no further than White- chapel on his row¢e ; but the difficulties that beset him in getting as far as Whitechapel must not be omitted from his note-book. ‘The costliness of the premier pas will always give it a value in the eyes of the sym- athising reader; and it is hoped, therefore, that the autobiography of Brierwess, the Lord Chancellor that is to be—if merit meets with its reward—may form a companion to the excellent Life of Lord Eldon, by Mr. Horace Twiss, and a necessary sequel to those tomes that Lorp CampsE Lt has lately given—price £4 10s., in large octavo—to a grateful community. CHAPTER THE FIRST. MY BIRTH AND EARLY EDUCATION, ACCORDING TO THE BEST OF MY RECOLLECTION, I sHAtt begin with my cradle, which may be considered the first ‘rocky pass ”—as the playbills have it—that infancy has to go through; and, by the way, the undulating motion of the first bed of babyhood is exceedingly characteristic of that sea of trouble by which human life is often typified. To be tossed about from one side to the other is the fate of man, from his first oscillation like a pendulum in the crib or cradle, to the period when he gets into the full swing of his existence, until the time when—to resume the simile of the pendulum—his works are worn out, he is incapable of being wound up, and he stops because he can go no longer. To some, every tic has been as painful as the ¢ic doloreux ; but if the regulator has been well employed, and the hands have properly performed their duty, the human Aorloge need not be ashamed to show its face, however humble the case to which fortune may have consigned it. I shall not imitate the practice of those persons who, having raised themselves from nothing by their own merit, attempt to sacrifice that merit by making out that their families were somebodies before they came to be nobodies, and that therefore there is nothing extra- ordinary in their coming to be somebodies again. I shall not try to do for myself what Mr. Horace Twiss has amiably undertaken to do for Lorp Etpon, and make myself out a descendant of some illustrious ambassador who came over and “ flourished” somewhere about the second century, for all this flourishing goes for little or nothing at the present day. The antiquity of the Brrertess Family could no doubt be traced in in the record of its|} a manner quite as satisfactory as usual, if I were inclined to draw out my pedigree; but I shall content myself with going as far back as the Catalogus Brevium Irregularium in the Westminster Grammar, from one of which drevia or Briefs, the name of BrrerLess may ow g be derived. Declining to form a sort of acrobatic exhibition of my ancestors for the sake of building up a family pyramid and elevatin myself to the very top, I shall reverse the process of Ainzas, an instead of hoisting my father on to my shoulders, 1 shall spring upon his, without seeking to assume any greater ancestral elevation than the old boy’s back can afford. My paternal parent, or rather the immediate block of which I am a direct chip, was the youngest son of the eldest grandson of one of the standard-bearers in the civil wars, who died with his country in his mouth, victory in his ear, a flash of triumph in each eye, and his sword in his hand. The military spirit which once breathed in our family had blown itself completely out before my birth, and my earliest infancy glided by in the pursuit of the peaceful arts of reading, writing, and arithmetic, with, occasionally, the use of the globes. Such was my precocity, in these studies, that before my years had numbered three, my lips could count ten. It would be tedious to trace myself from the arms of the nurse to the hands of thé schoolmaster, but I think I am justified in saying that I showed no peciiliar aptitude for any high legal dignity, except, perhaps, that of Solicitor-General, for which I evinced a sort of qualification, * asking for everything that came in my way, I do not ay much stress upon this incident, but “I merely mention it,” as the saying goes, that the reader may take it for what it happens to be worth. I will not say that the fact had any influence on my choice of a profession; but this is so large a subject, that it must be reserved for another Chapter. Philosephical Stanzas. Srvce mortals are all, both great and small, Created by their dresses, And folks will scan the worth of a man By that which he possesses ;— If they wish to draw respect and awe From ignorant beholders, The rich must wear their virtues rare Upon their backs and shoulders. Yet the eye that probes thro’ stars and robes, Wigs, velvet, silk, and ermine, May feel a doubt, whether inside or out Our homage should determine ; For the judge’s nob may its wisdom rob From the tail of a four-legged mother, And the grandeur’s germ of the human worm May spring from his silken brother. Plumes! pearls that gem beauty’s diadem, Unguents ! that perfume give it, Your pomp and grace is the refuse base Of the ostrich, oyster, and civet. Even mighty kings—those helpless things, Whose badge is the royal ermine— Their glory’s pride, they must steal from the hide Of the meanest spotted vermin Since the lords of the earth, to borrow the worth And splendour their vanity wishes, Must their littleness deck in the gaudy wreck Of birds, and beasts, and fishes. Since kings confide in a reptile’s hide To make their greatness greater, Why, Punch he cries, when the pageant he eyes, “Oh! alack for poor human Nature!” Christmas Bills for Parliament. WE understand that it is contemplated by tradesmen to petition the legislature for a partial return to the old Saxon style in the nomenclature of the months. It is designed by them to request that the month last past should be called Bill-Monath, and the present Pay-Monath; more- over, with respect to Pay-Monath, or the Month of Pay, to pray for some measure for its better observance. SPEED THE PLOUGH IN IRELAND. WE learn, with great pleasure, that'Lorp CLARENDON has established some Practical Instructors in Husbandry for Ireland, who, in the words of the Zimes, “go about from place to place, and point out to the farmers the great advantage to be derived from digging and turning their land.” We hope that the Irish will save Punch further trouble by having, once for all, an effectual dig at their own country.

Page 21

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL A THING TO MAKE LIGHT OF. oe - CA LE ND ANNES MP hie fo. — um al — SS ——— WHAT I SHALL BE, AND WHAT I AM Ir Prize Oxen could speak, and if one of them bore the name of Horatio, another might quote to him the line from Hamlet, and exclain— “To such base uses must we come, Horatio,” as, in the pride of pampered pinguidity, they pass together the shop of some tallew-chandler, and e . the piles of candles, reflect on the sixes—and sevens—to which they must be brought by the cattle- stuffing mania. SuEToNIus—a great authority on Suet, and who, by the way, disdained to butter the Csars—would, had he lived to the present day, have exposed the extravagances of our time, as he did those of his own; for he would certainly have revolted against the extravagance of fattening up for the melting tub, and converting into food for reflection, those animals that were intended for food of a more substantial kind. When we see the mountainous flanks of the monster oxen in Baker Street Bazaar, we cannot help thinking of the ignominious end that is in store for the wretched brutes whose ultimate “blaze of triumph ” will only be such as the ignition of some scores of pounds of kitchen candles will afford. The last remains of the gigantic creature that stood panting for admiration at the Cattle Show, may be traced at last to the socket of some wretched rushlight shade, in which the last relic of the once proud animal is doomed to expire. Alas! that brutal, like human greatness, should come to such an insignificant end! TALES OF THE HATCHWAY. TuERE is an old but, we begin to think, an objectionable proverb, which forbids us to perform the process of enumeration upon otir chickens until they are hatched. An ingenious tradesman, who hangs out at the four-and-a-half milestone on the Hammersmith Road, has discovered a process by which, he says, he can hatch a thousand chickens per hour, from ten till dusk. Now it is very clear, that unless these rapid results of incubation are counted in their eggy state, the necessary calculation afterwards would prove an incubus that no industry could overcome ; and we have therefore an instance of a necessity for sometimes count- ing chickens before they are hatched. The inventor of the ingenious process is a Mr. CanrTexo, whose name reminds us that we can’t-tell- ow he does it. We have heard that he will undertake to hatch every- thing, even a mare’s nest, if it is brought to him in a fit condition for the experiment to be tried. THE FAMILY IN ARCHES COURT. Tr has lately been observed that nearly all the officials of the Arches Court are related to Sir HERBERT JENNER Fust. We presume that the patronage of the Court of Arches is dispensed on the principle of “ Fust come Fust served.” CHRISTMAS-BOXES FOR GOVERNMENT. Ir is rather a shabby arrangement on the part of the State to pay its officers so badly that the public must make up the deficiency with Christmas-Boxes, or leave some very useful and hard-working function- aries extremely short of cash at this festive season of the year. The Postmen are, as everybody knows, remunerated on such a shabby scale, that the honest part of them are half-starved, while the few who cannot resist the temptation to eke out their income by unwarrantable means, are in the habit of pocketing an odd money-letter or so, to make both ends meet. It is true that, though these supplementary payments do not come out of the public chest, they nevertheless come out of the public P nga though it is a mere lottery whose pocket shall indi- vidually suffer, and the tax may in some instances fall upon those who cannot afford to bear it. We think it would be better to abolish the pilfering and the Christmas-Boxes at once, by paying the Postmen more suitable salaries in the first instance, than those which they at present receive. The*principle of paying public servants as mendicants depending on the generosity of the Nation is not one that we can approve, at events in reference to such humble functionaries as letter-carriers, whose duties are not of akind to enable us to measure their com- parative merits, and reward them accordingly. We think the practice of giving Christmas-Boxes might be found to possess some advantages if it were acted upon towards official persons, for their conduct is of importance to the community ; and it would be as well if the community had every year an opportunity of expressing an opinion in the manner that is usually the most effective, If the Ministers, for example, depended for a part of their pay—like the Postmen—upon Christmas-Boxes, there would be an easy method by which the Government would get at the sense of the Nation upon the conduct of the Cabinet, individual and collectively. If we heard, for instance, that the Premier had called for his Christmas-Box, our generous contribution of half-a-crown would tell him that we approved his recent conduct on the whole; while our_stintingly-doled-out shilling, sent by the hands of our servant to the CHANCELLOR OF THE aye oy would intimate to him our impatience of the Income- Tax and a few other burdens from which we think we ought to be relieved. Our half-crown to Sir Grorce Grey would encourage him to proceed in the work of his department with the same spirit he has hitherto shown, and would hint to him our approval of the sanitary measures he is actively engaged in furthering. Lorp PatMERSTON, also, should not be without a tokeit of our appro- bation, which he has at least done nothing to forfeit lately, for he has not yet plunged us into an European war, notwithstanding his somewhat inflammable tendency. The Opposition could not, of course, take the same means of getting at the sense of the Nation upon their policy ; but we think some of the heads of the party might resort to the old custom of sending in a Christmas piece ; and we are sure that our friend Lorp BrouGuamM could easily make up a document of this description that would entitle him to consideration at the hands of the public. Some of the expectants of office would be quite in character, were they to apply as the “waits ;” and we fancy we can see Pret, in the capacity of everything right in the main.” The Gin-and-Water Cure for Low Spirits. Tue proprietors of a certain establishment have announced, as a temptation to purchasers, that in consequence of the fall in British spirits, they have reduced the price of their gin. We wonder if the fall in British spirits alluded to is that which has been occasioned by our commercial difficulties. If so, it is something like jumping out of the frying-pan into the fire, to rush from mere financial difficulties into absolute and utter “ blue ruin.” EPIGRAM ON LORD JOHN RUSSELL’S BRIEF EPISTLE TO THE DEAN OF HEREFORD, If brevity ’s indeed the soul of wit, ae Lorp Joun has made a most tremendous hit. MORE FALLACIES OF THE IRISH. Ir is not necessary to discharge a gun in order to discharge a debt. s You needn’t shoot your landlord to prove you can pay 2 shot. You are wrong to imagine that England is for the Irish. i@ There are better plans of making an agent alive to your wants, and sensitive of your wrongs, than by firing his bosom. WHEN ONE MAY REASONABLY QUARREL WITH ONB’S BREAD AND Burtter.—In endeavouring, when one’s fingers are benumbed on a cold | morning, to spread frozen butter on new bread with a limp knife. turncock, coming to our gate professing to be ‘‘the man wot keeps |

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6 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. LETTER ON OUR NATIONAL DEFENCES. FROM THE BROOK-GREEN VOLUNTEER. Ir is with much pleasure that we lay before our readers a com- munication on the important subject of our National Defences, from our old friend the Resah-Givenn Volunteer. A topic which has engaged the pen of the Great Captain of the Age may well occup the attention of the little Militia Man of the suburbs, who, thoug he cannot call himself a “Soldier that has seen Service,” like a very sensible correspondent of the Zimes, may fairly be considered a soldier who would have seen service if there had been any service to be seen. We will, however, allow him to speak for him- self on this topic, and we are sure that his views will be received with all the deference they deserve. “TO MR. PUNCH. “Srr,—Though my military fame is limited to your columns, in which I have had the honour to serve, I feel that the position I there occupied gives me a claim on the attention of the public at a moment like the present, when an attempt is being made to cS : throw the nation into a sort of delirium tremens at the prospect of the possible arrival of an invading foe. It will be a matter of the utmost satisfaction to me if my country should owe to the reason- ing of the Brook-Green Volunteer that feeling of safety which she has aright to expect would be converted into actual security at his hands if danger should really arrive. “T perceive, Sir, that a certain Lornp ELLEsMERE has been sounding an alarum in the 7imes, and not only suggesting the facility with which a French army might march into London, but alleging that the wisest movement of our military in such an event would be to march out of it. Nosooner, Sir, did Lread this sentence, than I instinctively resumed my regimentals, and, emptying out of my cartridge-box the rushlights which for the last few months it had contained, I darted into my little back parlour, from which I issued in a few moments, as somebody else did from the brain of Jupiter, armed from head to foot. This spontaneous act on my part may serve to show the spirit which woul animate thousands in the same position as myself, if an invasion were to be talked about. The British soldiery walk out of the capital, as the foe walked in! Perish the humiliating thought! Why, Sir, there is not a tradesman, who, if aparty of Frenchmen appeared in his front shop, would not gather his assistants round him in the back-yard ; and they would all resolve to sell their lives as dearly as their groceries, their meat, their bread, or any other articles in which they might happen to deal. “* Tf British Commerce is suspected of such poltroonery as Lorp ELLESMERE insinuates against it, let the sons of mercantile in- dustry make at once a manifestation of their warlike spirit. Let the yard measure be exchanged for, or rather combined with, the sword—which could easily be done by making them both the same length; and let every linendrapery establishment show in its “young men” a phalanx that, while observing an armed neutrality towards the customers—excepting always as far as the pockets are concerned,—shall afford a guarantee against the possibility of a successful invasion. I should recommend that in all the principal houses there should be a drill every morning before the commence- ment of business, with all the formality of marches and counter- marches round the shop. For my own part, I am resolved to resume that brief but brilliant military career which won for me unfading laurels—I have them now in pots, at my garden gate—on the field of Brook Green; and I hope every tradesman will consider his shop an encampment, and never look at his ledger without being surrounded 4 those accoutrements which will keep him prepared to attend to the military as well as the civil > ‘orders of the day. “T have long, as you know, accustomed myself to the hardships of a military life, and I have again put myself on fatigue duty at the call of my | country ; and I went so far on boxing-night, in the enthusiasm of the season as to effect a bivouac, which I own was half involuntary, and only commenced at four o’clock in the morning, on the confines of Brook Green. “A reliance on the spirit of the British Soldier has been very properly expressed ; but, Sir, are the British Butcher, the British Baker, the British Tinker, the British Tailor, the British Ploughboy, and the British Apothecary —for I will not include the British Thief on this occasion—to be despised ? Iam certain that the Butchers would do their duty, not only in a military

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K TRIC DON’T sUPpPosE I’M TO BE FRIGHTENED BY SUCH A You RNIP AS THAT! ”’ Y R CES PASSER L Tu | vee ee SUT MOSTARIGOUR SIL John Bull. *‘ Compr, court, you Foortsn FEtiow ; su Ss [af A N iS ( & tee c wu | SS

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— A

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 9 capacity, but as contributors to the Commissariat department ; for the times must be indeed out of joint when this class of tradesmen shall refuse to put a shoulder—aye, or a leg—to the common veal, and allow the ps hen of their country to sing out for the roast beef of Old England in vain. As the “Soldier of Service” properly asks in the columns of the Zimes, where are the stores to be collected for an invading army? and is it not preposterous to suppose that the popu- lation of London would be content to provide food for an enemy? No, Sir, the Baker might give the invaders something in their bread-baskets ; >= * N 'N Ni ‘\ ‘ ' ‘ . —a—aas and, however willingly the purveyors of the staff of life might place it at the disposal of their own countrymen, if the French got even a French roll, it would be only a roll in the dust. “T confess that I agree with my Lorp ELLEsMERE as to the defence- less nature of our turnpike roads, nor do I think that the toll-collectors would be able to make a very formidable stand against an enemy, con- sidering that the British pikemen are being very properly got rid of, and will soon be quite extinct. The Kensington outposts are, perhaps, | the strongest, but I should be unwilling to put much confidence in even all the bars on that trust. I had much rather rely on the arming of our butchers’ boys, and others, who would keep the roads in a state of -** SS = . —_—- ~ = SS == = constant patrolling, and furnish a much stronger defensive force than even the most gallant of our stationary pikemen could afford. subject ; and I can only say, in conclusion, that when the enemy is at the gate—or even has got over the railings, wherever may be the area of contention, or should the foe beard him even in his back-yard, every inch of it will be stoutly contested by “ Yours and his country’s 6bédient servant, “Tue Broox-Giizen VoLuNTEER.” = The Song of the Ttitkey. Tne season of Christmas is over, The time of our danger is past ; "Tis the turn of the wild duck and > a But the Turkey is safe, boys, at last: Then hobble and gobble, we ’ll sing, boys, No longer we’ve reason to fear ; : Who knows whiat a twelvém6nth may bring; boys ! Let’s trust to the chance of the year. The oyster, in vain, how may mobk us, Its sauce we can See disdain ; No sausages vulgar Shall shock 8 : We are free! we dre free from their chain! Then hobble and gobble, we’ll sing, boys, &c. What matters to you and to me, boys, That one whom we treasured when youugé, With a ticket ‘‘ Look here, six-and-three,” boys, In a poulterer’s window was hung. Then hobble and gobble, we’ll sing, boys, &c. Then mourn not for friends that are eaten, A drumstick for care and regret ; Enough that, the future to sweeten, Our lives are not forfeited yet. Then hobble and gobble, we’ll sing, boys, &c. GERMAN IMPRESSIONS. WE are glad to be able to present to our readers the following extract, on the opening of Parliament, literally translated from the forthcoming work of His Excellence, Privy Councillor, and Chief Puddle and Pump- work Director (Geheim Rath und oben Pfutzem und Pumpemworken- Director), Von PLAPPERTASCHE, at present on a secret mission to this country from the grand-ducal Court of Pumpernickle-kleiningen. After describing his struggles in getting into the House, and a species of mobbing he seems to have encountered, from having gone in a Court Suit, (at the cruel suggestion of a person connected, we regret to say, with this journal), Herr Von PLAPPERTASCHE proceeds— “That was glorious! Now was | in the actual, sensible presence of world-famous, and to-me-already-by-frequent-perusal-of-the-dugshurgh- Gazette-politically-familiar men, comfortably, though not without serious injury to one of my richly-with-flowers-in-silk-embroidered coatlaps, at length seated. The in-Punch-weekly-delineated, and therefore at once- by-one-recognised PreL was with Lorp PALMERSTON, in earnest, mind- stretching conversation deeply sunk (vertie/t). Without doubt, they were arranging a method by which the For-foreign-affairs-through-so- many-changes-of-administration-Principal-Secretary might defend him- self against the shattering (Lrschiittendes) and over-numerous-years-and- unconnected-affairs-with-voluminous-papers-complicated impeachment of the impetuous Youghal-member, Herr Cutsnotm Anstey, successfully defend. A by-my-side-sitting and, from his remarks, deeply-in-political- intrigues-involved gentleman, in the purest German, with the heartiest politeness, explained much to me, as a stranger, holding in my native Court high position, in the deepest degree interesting. “*That is Lorp GEORGE BENTINCK!”’ said he, to me with his finger indicating a with-long-beard-and-heavy-tread-crossing-the-floor, like-a- trooper-of-the-Wallenstein-Walloon-corps-man. ‘ With that thick stick he, by striking, in a line retains the impetuous race-horses at Derby and St. Leger, until the signal for the race lets them in fiery gallop break- out.’ These, and such traits of a nationally-personally-characteristic kind, were on me with the utmost readiness by my courteous (Adflich) and earnestly-grave neighbour bestowed. **See you Sipruorre?’ he continued, pointing out to me a with- bald- head- placidly-protruding- stomach-and-face-of -utmost-benevolence- with-traces-of-ample-feeding-expanded man, in all respects resembling a wealthy-of-the-well-endowed-English-Church-rector.” The extract goes on for five pages of similar description. We cannot help thinking that this respectable foreigner has been made the victim of a heartless misrepresentation, and has had Sir Kosert INGus pointed out to him for Cotonen SiprHorrr, and Mr. Muniz for Lorp » “I have now, Sir, said all that occurs to me on this momentous GEORGE BENTINCK.

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI

LONDON TAKEN BY THE FRENCH. WE give a copy of the bulletin, that it may be expected MARSHAL Bu- GEAUD will forward to his Government on the invasion of England and pos- session of London by 50,000 French. Punch hesitated to insert the docu- ment until it had been submitted to the Ear.or ELxEs- MERE. ‘The noble Earl, however, having carefully perused the bul- j, letin,assures Punch =~ that it truly fore- =; received with properrespect —--~~ * by the enemy, who is at e last brought to the con-. ~.— viction of the immeasurable ~*~ superiority of our arms. ‘It was my intention to quarter the 95th the National Gallery ; but—it is a touching proof of the taste of the French horse—the animal could not be induced to enter the building. “The statue of the charlatan Netson has been displaced from a column, which will be surmounted by the effigy of our own real hero, JEAN pu Bart. “T have further cansed the marble statue of NaroLtEon—for many

ee Chasseurs in | years shamefully concealed in the wine-cellar of the DuxKE or | WELLINGTON—to be elevated to the arch opposite Apsley House, | which is to be henceforward known as Austerlitz Lodge. The statue of the Duke or WELLINGTON is already in the melting-pot, and will serve to reinforce our artillery. “Twenty thousand Frenchmen domiciled in London—namely, valets, drawing-masters, cooks, and fiddlers—appeared in the streets in the uniform of National Guards. “I have thought it necessary to send Mons. Jutuien—a French | subject—to the Tower, until I shall receive further orders from the ! Government. , , “Mapame Cetxste (another French subject) I have permitted to | act at the Adelphi on parole. “In a few days, I shall be enabled to send you an inventory of the | wealth of London; which, until the conclusion of the Opera season, I propose to make our head-quarters. “Deign, Monsieur, to receive the assurance of my highest con- sideration. * To the Minister of Foreign Affairs.” ** BUGEAUD.” THE MONETARY COUNTRY-DANCES. Tur “ Money Pressure,” the tightness in the Market, and all that sort of thing, occasionally intrude their disagreeable influence upon our Christmas festivities. As we are not of the grumbling party that would make the worst of everything, already rather bad, we are disposed to turn our gravities into gaieties, as far as may be done without impairing the energies required to be earnestly employed in a period of difficulty. We think, however, there can be no great harm in proposing a set of Monetary Country-Dances, to be danced during the olidays. ** The Accommodation.” Partners advance, cross cheques, and retire. First gentleman presents bill to second gentleman, hands across, Jalancez, and pair off in oppo- site directions. “ The Temporary Suspension.” First gentleman stops, second gentleman advances, turns first gentle- man round, and both resume their places. ; The same thing is done on all sides, and every one sets to his partner. “ The Renewal of Confidence.” All come forward together towards lady (of Threadneedle Street), who takes each gentleman by the hand in turn, and Jeads him to his own position. Having advanced to each, they all join hands, with grande ronde and finale. War’s Injudicious Alarms. Lorp EcErton ELLesMERE has been raising a great outcry respecting our deficiency in point of national defences. He has made such a display of our weakness as really to encourage aggression. He has, in effect, told the French that we should be thoroughly done in case of an invasion from them; so that our neighbours may regard him as one of those little pigs that run about the country ready-roasted, crying “‘ Come and eat us.” We hope we are not yet absolutely dished * to their hands, and we believe that it is not inthe power even of French cookery to give Englishmen a dressing.

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 1]

TRAVELS IN LONDON. A NIGHT’S PLEASURE. a. AVING made a solemn aie. engagement during the last Midsum- mer holidays with my young friend

| that we should go Jj, to a Christmas /. Pantomime toge- ‘ ther, and being .) accommodated by the obliging pro- = prietors of Covent ~<. Garden _ Theatre . with a private box for last Tuesday, I -- invited not only = him but someother young friends to be present at the en- tertainment. The two Miss Twic6s, the charming daughters of the Rev. Mr. Twice, our neighbour; Miss Minny Twice, their youngest sister, eight years of age; and their maternal aunt, Mrs. Captain Fiatner, as the Chaperon of the young ladies, were the four other partakers of this amusement with myself and Mn. Jones. t was speed that the ladies, who live in Montpellier Square, Bromp- ton, should take up myself and Master Aveustus at the Sarcophagus Club, which is on the way to the theatre, and where we two gentlemen dined on the day appointed. Cox’s most roomy fly, the mouldy green one, in which he insists on putting the roaring-grey horse, was engaged for the happy —— nly an intoxicated driver (as Cox’s man always is) could ever, I am sure, get that animal intoa trot. But the utmost fury of the whip will not drive him into a dangerous pace; and besides, the ladies were protected by Tuomas, Mrs. FLATHER’s page, a young man with a gold band to his hat, and a large gilt knob on'the top, who ensured the safety of the cargo, and really gave the vehicle the ignity of one’s own carriage. The dinner hour at the Sarcophagus being + ointed for five o’clock and a table secured in the strangers’ room, Masten Jonzs was good enough to arrive (under the guardianship of the Colonel’s footman) about half-an-hour before the appointed time, and the interval was by him partly passed in conversation, but chiefly in looking ata large silver watch which he possesses, and in hoping that we shouldn’t be late. I made every attempt to pacify and amuse my young guest, whose | anxiety was not about the dinner, but about the play. I tried him with | which

a few mr: about Greek and Mathematics—a sort of talk, however, was obliged speedily to abandon, for I found he knew a great deal more upon these subjects than I did—(it is disgusting how preter- naturally learned the boys of our day are, by the way). I engaged him to relate anecdotes about his schoolfellows and ushers, which he did, but still in a hurried, agitated, nervous manner—evidently thinking about that sole absorbing subject, the pantomime. A neat little dinner, served in Batirot’s best manner (our chef at the Sarcophagus knows when he has to deal with a connoisseur, and would as soon serve me up his own ears as a réchauffé dish), made scarcely any impression on young Jones. After a couple of spoonfuls, he pushed away the Palestine soup, and took out his large silver watch —he applied two or three times to the chronometer during the fish period—and it was not until I had him employed upon an omelette, full of apricot jam, that the young gentleman was decently tranquil. With the last mouthful of the omelette he begau to fidget again ; and it still wanted a quarter of an hour of six. Nuts, almonds an raisins, figs (the almost never-failing soother of youth), 1 hoped might keep him quiet, and laid before him all those delicacies. But he beat the devil’s tattoo with the nutcrackers, had out the watch time after time, declared that it stopped, and made such a ceaseless kicking on the legs of his chair, that there were moments when I wished he was back in the parlour of Mrs. Jonzs, his Mamma. I know oldsters who have a savage pleasure in making boys drunk— a horrid thought of this kind may perhaps have crossed my mind. “ If I could get him to drink half-a-dozen glasses of that heavy Port, it might soothe him and make him sleep,” I may have thought. But he would only take a couple of glasses of wine. He said he didn’t like more; that his father did not wish him to take more: and, abashed by his frank and honest demeanour, I would not press him, of course, a Avcustus JONES, | 4 single moment further, and so was forced to take the bottle to myself, to soothe me instead of my young guest. : He was almost frantic at a quarter to seven, by which time the ladies had agreed to call for us, and for about five minutes was pameny dangerous. “ We shall be late, I know we shall; I said we should! am sure it’s seven, past, and that the box will be taken!” and countless other exclamations of fear and impatience sed through his mind. At length we heard a carriage stop, and a club-servant entering and directing himself towards our table. Young Jonzs did not want to hear him speak, but cried out—‘ Hooray, here they are!” flung his napkin over his head, dashed off his chair, sprang at his hat like a kitten at a ball, and bounced out of the door, crying out, “Come along, Rr. Speck!” whilst the individual addressed much more deliberately followed. “Happy Avucustus!” I nee exclaimed. “O thou brisk and bounding votary of pleasure! hen the virile toga has given place to the jacket and \turned-down collar, that Columbine, who will;float before you a goddess to-night,

will only be a third-rate dancing female, with rouge, and large feet. You will see the ropes by which the genii come down, and the dirty, crumpled knees of the iisiso—eall you won’t be in such a hurry to leave a good bottle of port, as now at the pleasant age of thirteen.” —(By the way, boys are made so abominably comfortable and odiously happy, now-a-days, that when I look back to 1802, and my own youth, L get in a rage with the whole race of boys, and feel in-

clined to flog them all round.|—Paying the bill, I say, and making | these leisurely observations, I passed under the hall of the Sar- cophagus, where Tuomas, the page, touched the gold-knobbed hat respectfully to me, in a manner which I think must have rather sur- — old GeneraL GROWLER, who was unrolling himself of his muf- etees and wrappers, and issued into the street, where Cox’s fly was in waiting: the windows up, and whitened with a slight frost: the silhou- ettes of the dear beings within dimly visible against the chemist’s light opposite the Club; and Master Avucustus already kicking his heels on the box, by the side of the inebriated driver. I caused the youth to descend from that perch, and the door of the fly being opened, thrust him in. Mrs. Captain Fiatuer of course occupied the place of honour—an uncommonly —- woman,—and one of the young ladies made a retreat from the front seat, in order to leave it vacant for myself ; but I insisted on not incommoding Mrs. Captain F., and that the two darling children should sit beside her, _— I occupied the place of back bodkin between the two Miss WIGGS. _ They were attired in white, covered up with shawls, with bouquets in their laps, and their hair dressed evidently for the occasion: Mrs, FLATHER in her red velvet, of course, with her large gilt state turban. | She saw that we were squeezed on our side of the carriage, and made an offer to receive me on hers. Seen? I should think we were; but, O Emity, O Lovrsa, you mischievous little black-eyed creatures, who would dislike being squeezed by you? I wished it was to York we were going, and not to Covent Garden. How swiftly the moments passed. e were at

the play-house in no time: and Aveustus plunged instantly out of the fly over the shins of everybody. SPEC,

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12 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. A PLEASANT COUNTRY. Iw the absence of any more efficient measure for the protection of life, the guardians of the poor of Ireland, who have been special marks for the assassin on their way to the performance of their duties have resorted to their kitchen implements to provide the means of defence for their hazardous journey. Being deprived of all ordinary arms, they are compelled to encase themselves as they best can in their batterie de cuisine, to protect themselves against the murderous assault and battery to which they are forced to expose themselves. The various items in a cooking apparatus are thus turned to excellent account ; for the gridiron makes an admirable visor, the saucepan a most effective helmet, the dripping-pan an admirable shield, and the spit a spear in which lightness and power are blended very happily. We do not know that stalwart knights ever basted each other with basting-spoons at joust or tournament, but we are sure that in the olden time they have frequently entered the list in caparisons, which we might fairly liken to kitchen furniture, if it were not for the recol- lection that such caparisons are odious. Theghilanthropic attempt to enlighten the Irish on agriculture will probably be carried out with more success than has hitherto attended it, if the lecturers are armed cap- a-pied, in ihe style which the annexed engraving illustrates. The acquisition of knowledge under difficulties has been frequently recognised as a very laudable achievement, but its diffusion under difficulties is being just now exemplified in Ireland in a most remark- able manner. ‘To convey scientific information with bullets whizzing in one’s ear requires a degree of courage which is not often exhibited in England: our lecturers seldom have anything more formidable to withstand than a little ridicule or a few cabbage-leaves; but against even these the British diffusers of knowledge will be protected by the authorities. In Ireland, the well-meaning communicants of agri- cultural information may almost as well walk into a shooting gallery, and seat themselves before the target during a busy day’s practice, as ponent themselves to the notice of the peasantry in the character of ecturers. We throw out the hint, that they should at all events take the precaution of being armed from top to toe in case of accidents, which it seems will happen in Ireland even in the best regulated districts. THE TEMPLE EARTHQUAKE. Ir a French fleet is about to sail up to London, as some say it is, and if the Temple is to be taken, it will assuredly be well shaken first, unless something is done to stop the explosive experiments that are now proceeding on the river. We understand from Mr. Brrer.ess that he was sitting the other day in his chambers, when he was alarme by an extraordinary motion—not by any means a motion of course— that almost knocked him off his legs, instead of bringing him on to them. The learned gentleman, who was trying to digest a de injurid that had just come in, expected to see the iajuria demonstrated at once in the downfall of his entire domicile; and he was waiting for the this alarming case of battery, but upon inquiring of the porters, who make their own rule absolute in the Temple, there was no cause shown. It was subsequently ascertained that a trial was going on against a bank for the removal of some deposits, but as the damages will probably fall on the inhabitants of the Temple, Mr. BrrerxEss has in- structed himself to move on the first day of Term, that if this action is continued, the venue may be instantly changed. A gentleman writing to the Ziimes kindly recommends the keeping of the doors and windows all open, for the purpose of weakening the effect of any further explosion. This advice would be reasonable enough in summer, but few barristers would be anxious for so many drafts to settle as will i in upon them just now, if doors and windows are kept open until the experiments cease... THE DEAN AND DR. HAMPDEN. THERE was an old Dean in the West country, A cause of offence his Rev’rence had found ; Twas all about filling a vacant see, Upon what he consider’d was his own ground Vith his plural rural cure a-lural ural lural lay. His Deanship resolved the QuEEN to sue, For what he considered his rightful due ; Likewise to beg her favour and grace, In hopes she would give him the vacant place, With his plural rural cure a-lural ural lural lay. The QuEEN his petition did refer To Lorp Joun RusseEtt, her Pre-mi-er; | But Lorp Jonn Russet said, “I’ve in view Another, my very good friend, than you— With your plural rural cure a-lural ural lural lay.” * Ts it that Doctor whom you mean To make a Bishop of ?” cries the Dean; “ There lives a person—I won’t say where— More fit for a Bishop than that chap there With his plural rural cure a-lural ural lural lay.” Thereon the Dean whipp’d out his pen, And sent the QuEEN a letter again, Imputing error and heresy To Lorp Joun’s Bishop that was to be With his plural rural cure a-lural ural lural lay. Against that choice he did protest ; But Her Masesty thought that Joun knew best; For his mitre and crosier she left him to whistle, And gave him no answer to his epistle, With his plural rural cure a-lural ural lural lay. To Lorp Joun Russet then he wrote, And bade him to take heed and note That he purposed, without hesitation or fear, Opposing Her Masesty’s congé @élire With his plural rural cure a-lural ural Jural lay. To him replied the Minister— *T have reeeived your letter, Sir, Tn which your intention you intimate The law of the land to violate, With your plural rural cure a-lpral ural lural lay.” So now the Dean had pledged his word To do a thing that was quite absurd; And when the election-day came on, He recorded his vote ’gainst the man of Lorp JoHn, With his plural rural cure a-lural ural lural lay. But there he stopp’d—the wisest way— And Lorp Joun’s Bishop gain’d the day : And though with the Chapter he disagreed, The Dean set his hand and his seal to their deed, With his plural rural cure a-lural ural lural lay. And so the Dean has preserved his stall, His goods and chattels, and livings, and all; Of a premunire he’s out of fear, And we wish him sincerely a happy new year, With his plural rural cure a-lural ural lural lay. OUR PRIZE CONUNDRUM FOR CHRISTMAS. Q. In what vy. does the appointment of Dr. Muscrave to the Archbishoprick of York bear a striking resemblance to most of our modern farces ? general issue in the ahaue of a regular smash, when happily an abate- ment was perceptible. clerk was instantly despatched to look into A, In the fact of its being a mere translation.

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eee * PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARI THE FRENCH AT BRIGHTON. oLty Mr. Puncn, “As a lone woman, Sir, I write to you about our Natural Defences. I’ve been reading the Sussex Advertiser, and| Brighton, it seems, is in a pretty state of déshabille, and may be surprised any morning—as one may say —with its hair in papers, afore the town knows where it is. “The place is ruined, Mr. Punch ; \odgers not coming here, as thinking themselves double haz- ardous. For is it to be believed, Sir, that married men with families will let their wives and children come down when—at no notice at all—the town may be boarded by the French fleet, and scream- ing women and children be carried off in gigs an jolly-boats ; to say nothing of the property? “And yet, Mr. Punch— as my poor dear GERKINS used to ask, and ’specially when he’d had a glass— and yet, we are called upon every day, I may say, to paytaxes. Yes, Sir, we by the cannon-balls of the French! As GERKINs would have said, is this honest of Her Mazgesty’s Ministers ? “ Tf ever there was a town that had its weakness—and that weakness known to the French —it is this precious Brighton. Of course. Why, I myself—never minding what I thought the nonsense of nat’ral enemies, so as they paid their way—I have let my first and second floor to French families, that now, I’m sure of it, only took ’em for spies. Yes, Sir; I’ve no doubt that Periwinkle Villa, Marine Parade—that ’s my house, Sir, and painted from top to toe only last May—is known to all the French. There isn’t a French aie (Ill be bound) that doesn’t know where to put his hand upon the plate-basket—not a man among ’em but wouldn’t, in the dark, find his way to the beer-cellar. (Not but what I shall take precious good care to disappoint ’em.) “And this is the case with every other house in the place. We are known, inside and out. We haven’t a garret hid from ’em. They may cut us up, and share us out like cakes. “Thinking of this, I put on my bonnet and victorine, and went out to take a good look of the town. When I saw that we’d only a handful of guns at West Street, and not so much as a pocket pistol at Seaford Bay, I said to myself—What’s to prevent the French coming here whenever they like? Why—I’m certain of it—when the moon didn’t shine, they might come over, and let themselves into all the town with latch-keys; for it isn’t likely—so many lodgers as there have been here—that they went away without taking false ones. *T am not a timid woman, Mr. Punch—poor Gerkrns would always allow that much of me; —but upon my word and honour I do assure you, when I saw myself standing on the Marine Parade with not a gun—no, not a single ae of cold iron, as the words go—between me and France, I did tremble for Brighton; I did tremble for my QuEEN (though Her Masesty has \eft: us for the Isle of Wight); and I did tremble for Prince ALBERT and the rest of the Royal Family. “ T do hope, Mr. Punch, that you will write directly to Rear-Admiral Lorp Jonn RussEti— (who, I have somewhere heard, once did such wonders when he commanded the Channel Fleet)—and beg of him to send two or three hundred ships always to lie between us and the French. The wooden walls, Sir—as poor GERKINS used to say—the true hearts of oak that grow the laurel! And moreover, I do think, if Government would only send down Mr. T. P. Cooke to dance twice a-night the sailor’s College Hornpipe, it would do a great deal of good to public spirit. Pes = “ However, at least I do trust that you will insist upon the heads and branches of families all going into the Militia. Not that I hope we shall have any use for them—’specially with the hearts of. oak beating in the sea—but there is always this beauty about soldiers; when they’re not useful, they’re very nice to look at. } mee “Once I used to think there was a sort of pe about the Royal liveries, that now and then flamed in and out of the Pavilion. ‘To be sure—poor things !—they rather looked like the ghosts of footmen on board wages, than the stout rosy fellows that, when GEORGE THE FourtH used to bathe here, made the place so gay and handsome. Well, Sir, now they are gone. It was a sad sight, but only yesterday the last footman (with a carpet-bag marked in faded worsted, ‘G. R.’) took his long leave of Brighton by the second train. “ And there’s the Pavilion, as empty and good-for-nothing as a shell that’s held an addled ege! What should be done with that, Sir? Why, I’ll tell you. It should be worked with be got, let’em, without owning it, try wood, as better matching the building. “And moreover, Sir, as it’s the dull season, I do think—especially as the Court’s left us—that Government might take all the lodging-houses (the barracks not holding ’em) for the soldiers. First and second floor for officers—third, for men. * Struck by this happy thought, I send you my card of terms. ‘Ten guineas first floor, seven the second. Plate and linen found. (Boots not included.) Address post-paid, and believe me, ** Your obedient servant, * Mary GERKINS.” “P.S. As at such atime England—as poor GERKINS used to say—expects every woman to do her duty, I shall have no objection (for an extra three pounds) to mount two cannons at my attic windows, if warranted not to be fired.” FINE ARTS. The Stag at Bay. Tuts is a fine historical picture, and will serve to embalm the recollection of a most eventful pefiod of English history. We rarely criticise Art; but this is a work that compels us to be fervid—eloquent. The Stag is finely handled ; his look reveals the history of his woes. He stands at the very edge of the London Wharf, and the Boulogne steamer—with Captain TunE on the paddle-box—like a placid swan, is striking its first paddle-strokes. The ' ; ; Stag carries a carpet-bag in one hand, and in | are made to pay window-lights, when, at any minute, our sashes may be blown to mince-meat | the i : the other an_ uplifted stick, menacing his assail- ants, “the dogs of Law” let slip from Fetter Lane. Another moment, and the Stag would have leapt on the deck of the moving steamer ; but the dogs are closing upon him, and it is plain that—albeit his carpet-bag is in his hand, his portmanteau with “ its leathern coat swollen almost to bursting” at his foot—the Stag is ** caught and bled.” This noble picture of The Stag at Bay is one of those rare and perfect pieces of Art whose triumph it is to set to work the imagination of the beholder. For instance, the painter only shows us the “immediate now,”—but our fancy follows the poor Stag to his doom—we see him enter the hackney-cab with Mr. SHapracu and friend—London becomes a moving panorama— Cheapside, Fleet Street, pass before us—and— and—and—the key is turned; the Stag sleeps beneath the roof of the town-house of SHaDRACH. The Classics and the Commons. WE observe that Members of the House of Commons very frequently make use of Latin quotations, most of which are an evidence of an education at Eton, since they are to be found among the examples in the celebrated Grammar in use at thatseminary. It is curious that none of those honourable gentlemen ever by any chance quote Greek ; whence one might almost be inclined to suspect that they are more honourable than learned. We are sure that the mighty line of Homer (beginning with rv 3 &mauerBduevos) sonorously enunciated, would be received with the greatest segs by the House. Srr Ropert Peet had really better try a little Greek, particularly as he seems to have worn out all his Latin. By the by, in testimony of the liberal views, if not of the liberal education, of the British Parliament, we expect very shortly to hear a little Hebrew, as well as Greek and Latin, occasionally quoted in loop-holes over and over, and be filled from top to bottom with brass cannons. If brass can’t that august assembly. Cc VOL. XIV.

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14 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. MARTYRDOM OF THE DEAN OF HEREFORD. (BULLETIN.) Jan, 6.—Tue very Reverend Doctor | MeREWETHER has passed a good night; |and, considering the violence of his | martyrdom, is quite as well as could be | expected. | ‘The Doctor took breakfast with almost | | | his usual appetite ; and having expresse | some surprise that the sun still shone }upon Hereford—and having been as- |sured by his butler that the Cathedral | had not yet disappeared down the jaws |of an earthquake—consented to see a few friends to dinner. | The Doctor dined quite like a man | who feels that, after all is said, dinners | are not to be despised even by martyrs. | Jn the evening, the old English fes- | tivity of drawing for Twelfth-Cake was | celebrated ; at which the Doctor conde- | scended with the most affable manner to jassist. Unhappily, in drawing the charac- | | ters, the Doctor drewa Bishop. This | | aggravated the symptoms of the patient | |for atime; but nev ss, upon the | | whole, the Martyr may be pronounced ‘nearly out of danger. | ABD-EL-KADER AT TOULON ; OR, THE CAGED HAWK. No more, thou lithe and long-winged hawk, of desert-life for thee ; No more across the sultry sands shalt thou go swooping free : Blunt idle talons, idle beak, with spurning of thy chain, . Shatter against thy cage the wing thou ne’er mayst spread again. Long, sitting by their watchfires, shall the Kabyles tell the tale Of thy dash from Ben Halifa on the fat Metidja vale; How thou swept’st the desert over, bearing down the wild El Riff, From eastern Desi Salah to western Ouad Shelif : How thy white burnous went streaming, like the siorm-rack o’er the sea, When thou rodest in the vanward of the Moorish chivalry ; How thy razzia was a whirlwind, thy onset a simoom, [gloom ! How thy sword-sweep was the lightning, dealing death from out the Nor less quick to slay in battle than in peace to spare and save, Of brave men wisest councillor, of wise councillors most brave ; How the eye that flashed destruction could beam gentleness and love, How lion in thee mated lamb, how eagle mated dove ! Availéd not or steel or shot ’gainst that charmed life secure, Till cunning France, in last resource, tossed up the golden lure: And the carrion buzzards round him stooped, faithless, to the cast, And the wild hawk of the desert is caught and caged at last. Weep, maidens of Zerifah, above the Jaden loom! Scar, chieftains of Al Elmah, your cheeks in grief and gloom! Sons of the Beni Snazam, throw down the useless lance, And stoop your necks and bare your backs to yoke and scourge of France! *T was not in fight they bore him down; he never cried aman ; He never sunk his sword before the Prince or FRANGHISTAN; But with traitors all around him, his star upon the wane, He heerd the voice of ALLAH, and he would not strive in vain. They s;ave him what he asked them ; from king to king he spake, As one that plighted word and seal not knoweth how to break: ** Let me pass from out my deserts, be’t mine own choice where to go, | I brook no fettered life to live, a captive and a show.” | And they pregteeh, and he trusted them, and proud and calm he came, | Upon his black mare riding, girt with his sword of fame. Good steed, good sword, he rendered both unto the Frankish throng ; He knew them false and fickle—but a Prince’s word is strong. | How have they kept their promise ? Turned they the vessel’s prow Unto Acre, Alexandria, as they have sworn e’en now? Not so: from Oran northwards the white sails gleam and glance, And the wild hawk of the desert is borne away to France ! Where Toulon’s white-walled lazaret looks southward o’er the wave, | Sits he that trusted in the word a son of Louis gave. Oh, noble faith of noble heart! And was the warning vain The text writ by the Bourzon in the blurred black book of Spain ? | | | national breakwater to enable us to ride through the storm in safety.” | What a fine Harlequinade touch, and how it smacks of the season, when | a live peer can be turned into a breakwater ! | great men, for the defence of our country. The Duke or WELLINGTON | Trade. According to the Duke’s plan, the French will find us ugly | customers; according to that of Mr. | They have need of thee togaze on, they have need of thee to grace | The triumph of the Prince, to gild the pinchbeck of their race. | Words are but wind, conditions must be construed by Guizot; | Dash out thy heart, thou desert hawk, ere thou art made a show! j j = = ——————— | } | INVASION SMALL-TALK. Tue Duke’s gunpowder letter has had a remarkable effect upon certain ublic dinner parties. The orators have talked nothing but great guns. os of the Conservatives at Ashton-under-Lyne—like Catherine-wheels —were all whiz, fire, and smoke. A Mr. WILDE, in the very handsomest manner, invented a campaign, a battle, and a victory, for our gentle QueEEN VicToRIA, who would read the French a lesson * similar to that read by Queen Evizanetu; and he doubted not that the Queen would, if needs be, place herself, like her illustrious ancestor, at the head of her armies, and lead them not only to battle but to victory.” (Cheers.) | | It being an historical fact, that Queen Exizanetu, in prophetic | cocked-hat and epaulets, fought as post-captain on board the Royal | Harry, and took a Spanish three-decker. The circumstance has been | most negligently omitted from every Naval History; but Mr. WILDE | has, we are assured, the identical Elizabethan cocked-hat and epaulets | wrapt up in a Morning Herald of the day. And should the French | threaten us, there can be no doubt that our QuEEN, “like her illustrious | ancestor,” will lead the crew of the Victoria and Albert “ not only to | battle but to victory.” We moreover receive much comfort from Oldham; for there Mr. James Legs, proposing “ Lorp Sraniey and the House of Peers, the great bulwark of British Liberty,” denominated his Lordship “‘as a This is really to put the House of Lords to an unexpected use. Incase of a threatened invasion, = ould not wonder to see Lonp BrovucHaM supersede the Buoy at the Nore. Firelocks and Free-Trade. We have now before the Public two great schemes, proposed by two recommends us to call out the Militia, and increase the standing army ; Mr. ConppEN would have us put our trust in the extension of Free CoppEN, profitable ones: in either of which cases it will not pay them to quarrel with us. For our rotection, the Field-Marshal says, there is nothing iike bayonets ; the ree Trader, nothing like business; whilst both seem to be of opinion that there is nothing like leather. To disarm the French is cheaper, and looks less suspicious, than to arm ourselves: we hope, therefore, a fair trial will be given to the more pacific suggestion.

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| that a Shepherd, or Mr. | WICK, can stand in what may be | The Twelfth-Cakeian notions of | CAMBRIDGE, wong ie General’s uniform, the i t PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 15 piety Se which they ad- ART AS APPLIED TO TWELFTH-CAKES. Wut High Art is being lavished on almost every object, however insignificant, we regret to find that the Twelfth-Cake is still left to the rude barbarism of former ages for its decorations. Some of the speci- mens in Plaster of Paris that we have observed during the present season, are in the same primitive School of Art that we noticed in our days of juvenility ; — to the artists employed in this branch of decoration, three of whose drawings in chalk are now before us. We are struck by the ere to the old notion that the human foot is sometimes capable of carrying about with it a small patch of turf asa ae, and ICK- called a slantendicular position without falling to the ground. Royalty are always rather eccen- tric, and the general impression among the chalk and sugar artists is, that ty is huddled together all of a lump in a man- ner far more elumsy than digni- fied. We beg leave to call the attention of Royal Academicians ray : to this subject; and indeed, if the Fine Arts Commissioners will only offer a reward for the best set of ‘I'welfth Cake ornaments, we are sure that a wonderful effect would be produced. Purich’s Court Circular. YesteRDAY, (the 6th inst.), His Royat Hicuness tHe DvuKE oF Garter, Blue Ribbon, &c., &e., inspected the Royal Twelfth-Cake, and was pleased to express himself highly delighted with its taste and greatness. A Chinese family, e in the very best sugar, and comprising the father, a Mandarin of the first class, his wife and six children, was honoured with special marks of His Royal Highness’s attention. Chinese golden pheasants—bodies and tails in the brightest sugar-candy—afforded great delight to the distinguished amateur; and gold and silver fish, intro- duced in acrystal vase into the body of the cake, and swimming in Cham e, were honoured with the most condescending approbation. A tale. concealed under sugar rockwork raised about the cake, at an auspicious moment s up—“ Hail, Star of Brunswick!” His Royal ae expressed himself highly flattered by the delicacy of the compliment. On the whole, the noble Duke observed, that although he had presided at many annual distributions of prizes of the Art Union; nothing in the shape of Art had ever so inwardly touched him as the Twelfth-Cake. The Royal Duke afterwards inspected the Royal mince-pies and snap-dragon bowl, and pronounced them perfect. Tue Boy’s Own Boox.—Amongst the new books for the holydays has been advertised a tale by Hans Curistian ANDERSEN, called “A Dream of Little Tuk.” The title of this work sounds infelicitously. | A “Dream of Much Tuck” would be infinitely more calculated to interest young gentlemen who are home for the holydays. MR. DUNUP’S FAILURE. _TueE last scene of this melancholy drama is about to be acted, and a piece of ragged stair-carpet depending from Mr. Dunur’s chambers, announces the distressing fact that the dénouement is close at hand. We must, however, give ‘Mr. Dunvr credit—not in a pecuniary sense, for that would be madness indeed—but we must give him credit for ingenuity in the drawing up of a bill (he was always famous in this line) with a view to the sale by auction of his effects. The following is a copy of this interesting composition—the only composition, by the way, that Mr. Dunur has offered to his creditors :— IMPORTANT SALE. The recent monetary derangement having involved in its ruinous effects several firms and infirms of the highest character, it has been found necessary, in pursuance of the ORDER OF THE COURT of Requests, to make arrangements with some other eminent Auctioneer and Estate Agent, in consequence of the refusal of MR. FREDERICK CHINNOCK to Sell by Auction the whole of the Costly Effects of Branx Dunvr, Esquire. It cannot be said that the Property will include Bijouterie and Marqueterie, but it will comprise a choice selection of Boot-jackerie and Gim-crackery of the rarest kmd, which has been got together ‘REGARDLESS OF EXPENSE to his numerous creditors. One of the most interesting features of the Sale will be Mz. Dunur’s UNIQUE STUD, worn in the centre of his shirt; and there will also be submitted to public competition his unrivalled Towel and OTHER HORSES, including his well-known light, graceful, and serviceable AIRING-HORSE, which must be seen to be appreciated. The Auctioneer is happy to be enabled also to announce, that to him has been confided the task of disposing of the Splendid Service, Comprising 300 Ounces, OF PLATES, Chiefly of the favourite Willow pattern, together with A SMALL BUT SELECT CELLAR, Containing nearly 500 of Coals. The articles of the toilet will be included in the Sale, and the Auctioneer calls the attention of the Public with much confidence to (among other Lots) a Grand Square of Windsor Soap ; while the personal Jewellery of Mz. Dunvp, consisting chiefly of CURIOUS SPECIMENS OF MOSAIC, will be brought under the hammer without the smallest reserve. It would be impossible within the limits of a posting-bill to describe the various other interesting lots, but it will be sufficient to intimate that a dinner WAGON will be among the articles to be disposed of ; as well as an excellent pair of Railway Trowsers ; besides a warm second-hand pea-jacket, and three waistcoats, which will immediately confer on the purchaser a VESTED INTEREST. Further Particulars and Catalogues to be had of the Auctioneer ; or at Mr. Dunvr’s Chambers, where the effects may be viewed. Please Observe the Address! Amonest the many addresses which were presented to Lovts- Puripre on New Year’s Day, the most welcome one to him was the following :— * App-EL-KapEr, Zoulon.” The Emir had just been landed at Toulon, on his way to Alexandria. We suppose this new address, which has taken the French army so many years to ascertain, will be published in red letters, in the next edition of the Almanack des 25 Mille Adresses,

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. OUR NATIONAL DEFENCES. Wing, (a Vi Than | 1 \ || itive A HAAADALLA il , Ni s | Mi a Me i ili —— M Wy . bial Hi) : ee eT ee — RX y, wg AYR (Wi if =_ vill u At | Hy | eaten, il \\ iiss A isttuci | 1. = \ SS | f \\ \ TUE x. (hg > Ni. Mi) | A \| | y 0 | } ee Hy \ y a ' Fy N ray tty | aN i " ! wil: haley if WN" | |Fosoa it it fi Small Briton. “Tue Frencu mvape us, ispeED! AND WHAT SHOULD WF BE ABOUT ALL THE TIME ?—WHY, WE SHOULD RISE LIKE ONE MAN!” THE BAR—ITS RAGGED SCHOOL. | Iv gives us great pleasure to inform our readers that the frightful moral destitution of the Bar has at length awakened the attention of philanthropists, who, it may be almost objected against them, have suffered their sympathies to { run somewhat to waste amongst forlorn shirt-makers, at sevenpence a day: | and ragged scholars, the human refuse of lanes and courts; when a body of individuals of the very first ‘importance—as they themselves are not backward to declare, to our social condition—are in the most benighted state of ignorance and darkness. We allude to the Bar of England. It is not necessary for us here to recapitulate the harrowing instances of moral destitution that, within a very short period, have forced themselves upon the condemnation of the simple world at large. They have, however, at length awakened the philanthropic mind of the country; and a nobleman, distinguished for his benevolence, has called about him a band of sympathetic brethren determined upon carrying reformation among a body of individuals, many of whom are at times jocosely called “gentlemen” of the long robe. His Lordship’s address on the first meeting of the Society was listened to with mingled astonishment and grief. He dwelt eloquently and at great length } on the moral darkness and obliquity of even distinguished wearers of silk and | horse-hair. His Lordship asked the meeting what they would say of a man, not protected by gown and wig, who, knowing that blood was on the hands of the | assassin, should, for so much money (and, if any money could be called “blood- money,” surely it was pelf so acquired), endeavour to save the guilty by sacri- | ficing the innocent? He further asked, what could be thought of the sense of | honour of an advocate, who, having for years pocketed the fees for a plaintiff, afterwards used the information so acquired as a double-loaded gun, where- with, on the side of the defendant, to kill the cause of his first employer? (Cries | | of “ Shame.”) His Lordship then dwelt upon a degrading superstition that had | long obtained among gentlemen of the bar; namely, a belief that, having once secured a fee, they were not called upon to return it, should they have no time to work for it. Several resolutions were agreed to, and premises have, we hear, been taken in the neighbourhood of Westminster Hall, for the instruction of the destitute. ‘The institution may be aptly called, “ The Ragged Moral School of the Bar.” It is -* unlikely that we shall attend, and report the examination of some of the pupils. “Taken in, and Done for.” Tue fortifications are sprouting everywhere around Paris, There will be a splendid harvest of guns and cannons before the whole crop is razed. The Park of St. Cloud is budding with forts. e can only imagine one use for them. It has taken Lovis-PHILIPre ten years and a hundred million francs to catch App-EL-KapeR, and now that he has canght him, he is determined not to lose him. ‘The poor Emir is to be taken to Paris, and the fortifications are to be pushed for- ward as rapidly as possible to prevent his escape. We are afraid there is no hope for ABD-EL-KapER, especially as Lovuts- Puitirre is trying everything he can to make him sign a treaty of extente cordiale, “ WonDERFUL, IF TRUE.”—A gentleman was met with, the other day, who positively asserted that he had not had an attack of Influenza this winter! THE SPANISH GIANT. —- = ~- TO BE CONTINUED IN OUR NEXT.

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL 19 TRAVELS IN LONDON. A NIGHT’S PLEASURE. en ¥ | /B took possession a iL \ V/ , Of the private box Whe |, assigned to us: NG i/ and Mrs, FLaTHER fy evs seated herself in \\*x.2” the place of honour Patil —each of the young ladies taking it by turns to occupy the other corner. Miss Minny and Mas- TER JONES occupied the middle places ; and it was pleasant to watch the young gentleman through- out the performance of the comedy— during which he was never quiet for two minutes— now shifting his er _ chair, now swing- ing to and fro upon it, now digging his elbows into the capacious sides of Mrs. Captain Fiatner, now beating with his boots against the front of the box, or trampling upon the skirts of Mas. FLaruer’s satin rment. ~ occupied himself unceasingly, too, in working up and down Mrs. F.’s double-barrelled French opera-glass—not a little to the detriment of that instrument and the wrath of the owner; indeed, I have no doubt, that had not Mrs. Fiaruer reflected that . COLONEL JONES gave some of the most elegant parties in London, to which she was very anxious to be invited, she would have boxed Master Avcustvs’s ears in the presence of the whole audience of Covent Garden. One of the young ladies was, of course, obliged to remain in the back row with Mr. Srec. Wecould not see much of the play over Mrs. F.’s turban ; but I trust that we were not unhappy in our retired position. O Miss Emity! O Miss Louisa! there is one who would be happy to sit for a week close by either of you, though it were on one of those abominable little private-box chairs. I know, for my part, that every time the box-keeperess popped in her head, and asked if we would take any refreshment, I rm the interruption odious. Our young ladies, and their stout chaperon and aunt, had come pro- vided with neat little bouquets of flowers, in which they evidently took a considerable pride, and which were laid, on their first entrance, on the ledge in front of our box. iat But, presently, on the opposite side of the house, Mrs. Cursusn, of Pocklington Gardens, appeared with her daughters, and bowed in a atronising manner to the ladies of our party, with whom the CurnusH Family has a slight acquaintance. ; Before ten minutes, the bouquets of our party were whisked awa from the ledge of the box. Mus. FLatuer dropped hers to the ground, where Master Jones’s feet speedily finished it; Miss Louisa Twice let hers fall into her lap and covered it with her pocket-handkerchief. Uneasy signals passed between her and her sister. I could not, at first, understand what event had occurred to make these ladies so a At last the secret came out. The Misses Cursusn had bouquets like little haystacks beforethem. Our small nosegays, which had quite satis- fied the girls until now, had become odious in their little jealous eyes; and the CurBusHEs triumphed over them. I have joked the ladies subsequently on this adventure; but not one of them will acknowledge the charge against them. It was mere acci- dent that made them drop the flowers—pure accident. They jealous of the Cursusues—not they indeed! and, of course, each person on this head is welcome to his own opinion. ; How different, meanwhile, was the behaviour of my young friend Master JonEs,who is not as yet sophisticated by the world. He not only nodded to his father’s servant, who had taken a place in the pit, and was to escort his young master home, but he discovered a schoolfellow in the pit likewise. “ By Jove, there’s Suit!” he cried out, as if the sight of SmirH was the most extraordinary event in the world. He pointed out Smiru to all of us. He never ceased nodding, winking, grinning, telegraphing, until he had succeeded in attracting the attention not only of TER Situ, but of the — part of the house; and whenever anything in the play struck him as worthy of applause, he instantly made signals to SmirH below, and shook his fist at him, as much as to 7 “By Jove, old fellow, ain’t it good? I say, Samir, isn’t it prime, 0 d boy?” He actually made remarks on his fingers to Master Smit during the performance. Wai =a p feet aE AAR ee eal i I confess he was one of the best parts of the night’s entertainment to me. How Jonzs and Suitu will talk about that play when the meet after holidays! And not only then will they remember it, but all their lives long. Why do you remember that play = saw thirty years ago, and forget the one over which you yawned last week? Ah, my brave little boy, thought I, in my heart; twenty years hence you will recollect this, and have forgotten many a better thing. You will have been in love twice or thrice by that time, and forgotten it; you will have buried your wife and forgotten her: you will have had ever so many friendships and forgotten them. You and SmitH won’t care for each other, very probably; but you ’ll remember all the actors, and the plot of this piece we are seeing. I protest I have eee it myself. In our back row we could not see or hear much of the performance (and no great loss)—fitful bursts of elocution only occasionally reaching us, in which we could recognise the well-known nasal twang of the excellent Mr. Stupor, who per- formed the part of the young hero; or the ringing laughter of Mrs. Betmorz, who had to giggle through the whole piece. It was one of Mr. Boyster’s Comedies of English life. Frank NiGuTrake (S¢wpor), and his friend, Bos FrrzoFr.ey, appeared in the first scene, having a conversation with that impossible Valet of English Comedy, whom any gentleman would turn out of doors before he could get through half a length of the dialogue assigned. I caught only a glimpse of this Act. Bop, like a fashionable young dog of the aristo- cracy (the character was played by Butcer, a meritorious man, but very stout, and nearly fifty years of age), was dressed in a rhubarb- coloured body-coat with brass buttons, a couple of under waistcoats, a blue satin stock with a paste brooch in it, and an eighteenpenny cane, which he never let out of his hand, and with which he poked fun at everybody. Frank NicuTrakg, on the contrary, being at home, was attired in a very close-fitting chintz dressing-gown, lined with glazed red calico, and was seated before a large pewter teapot, at breakfast. And, as your true English Comedy is the representation of Nature, I could not but think how like these figures on the stage, and the dia- logue which they used, were to the appearance and talk of English gentlemen of the present day. The dialogue went on somewhat in the following fashion :— Bob Fitzoffley (enters whistling). The top of the morning to thee, Frank! What! at breakfast already? At chocolate and the Morning Post, like a dowager of sixty? Stane! (he pokes the servant with his cane) What has come to thy master, thou Prince of Valets! thou attern of Slaveys! thou swiftest of Mercuries! Has the HonouRaBLE | ape NicuTRake lost his heart, or his head, or his health ? Frank (laying down the paper). Bos, Box, I have lost all three! I have lost | health, Bos, with thee and oy like, over the Burgundy at the Club; I have lost my head, Bos, with thinking how I shall pay my debts; and I have lost my heart, Bos, Oh, to such a creature! Frank. A Venus, of course. Slang. With the presence of Juno. Bob. And the modesty of Mrverva. Frank. And the coldness of Diana! Bob. Pish! What a sigh is that about a woman! Thou shalt be Expruiox, the night-rake of old: and conquer this shy goddess. Hey, SLANG f Herewith Stance takes the lead of the conversation, and propounds a = for running away with the heiress; and I could not help remarking ow like the comedy was to life—how the gentlemen always say “thou,” and “prythee,” and “go to,” and talk about Heathen goddesses, to each other; how their servants are always their parti- cular intimates; how, when there is serious love-making between a gentleman and lady, a comic attachment invariably springs up between the valet and waiting-maid of each; how Lapy Grace Ganasovt, when she calls upon Rose Rixepuve to pay a morning visit, appears in a low satin dress, with jewels in her hair; how Savcesox, her attend- ant, wears diamond brooches, and rings on all her fingers: while Mrs. TaLLyHo, on the other hand, transacts all the business of life in a riding-habit, and always points her jokes by a cut of the whip. This playfulness produced a roar all over the house, whenever it was ye , and always made our little friends clap their hands and shout in chorus. Like that 4on-vivant who envied the beggars staring into the cook- shop windows, and wished he could be hungry, I envied the boys, and wished I could laugh, very much. In the last Act, I remember—for it is now very nearly a week ago—everybody took refuge either ina secret door, or behind a screen or curtain, or under a table, or up a chimney ; and the house roared as each person came out from his place of concealment. And the old fellow in top-boots, joining the hands of the young couple, (Fitz-Orr.ey, of course, pairing off with the widow,) gave them his blessing, and thirty thousand pounds. And ah, ye gods! if I wished before, that Comedies were like life, how I wished: that life was like Comedies! Wher the drop fell; and AvGustus, clapping to the opera-glass, jumped up, crying— * Hurray! now,for,the Pantomime.” . SPrEc.

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| any great importance to the answer of the juvenile. | by an old cocked-hat belongin; 20 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF MR. BRIEFLESS. CHAPTER THE SECOND. THE CHOICE OF A PROFESSION. Tre choice of a profession is in most cases more nominal than real ; for I doubt if a parent who asks a son “What he should like to be ?” attaches If, for instance, the latter should express a wish to “start as a banker,” it is not at all probable that the infantine whim will be carried out; though I re- member, in my boyhood’s days, having the impression that nothing could be easier ; for I imagined, very naturally, that a business consisting in the receipt of other people’s money would render it quite unnecessary to have any of one’s own. I was never particularly partial to the army, for myvery early days were eatly disturbed by threats of NaAPoLEoN, who was made the standing Gober to all the naughty boys at the “preparatory school for young gentlemen from three to eight,” in whose ranks I had been enrolled. I had in fact been terri- fied into believing, that if the victorious Cor- sican had invaded En- gland, his first step would have been towards the school-room of the Misses TRIMMER, at Hammersmith, where his first ery would have been for ‘“ Master BRIEFLEsS,” and his first blow aimed at that young gentleman’s de- voted back. I had heard vaguely of NaPpoLEon wishing to rule with a rod of iron, and | thought bitterly to my- self, “‘ That must be the rod he is treasuring up for Miss TRImMMER’s boys.” I was fully im- pressed with the idea that the eldest and severest Miss T. was in confidential commu- nication with the for- midable N. B., who was only waiting for orders, and would be ready to drop down upon Ham- I know that in choosing the Bar as a profession, there are many things !to be considered, and that many a man who might have achieved great- | ness in any other pursuit, has buried himself in ignominious obscurity by |adopting the wig and gown. The celebrated DiavoLto Antonio, for | instance, who has hung up his name by the tight rope in the annals of | renown, might have found business for ever slack had he selected the | forensic line; and by the same reason, had Lorp Expon tried to get | his living by jumping in sacks, instead of doing his best to climb on to one, he might have hopped through life unhonoured and unknown. | I know there are instances of individuals becoming advocates with- lout any of the qualities necessary to insure success; and I have |heard of one EpHorus who was positively pulled out of court by |Tsocrates, who, dragging him along, insisted on his cutting the Bar and turning historian, for which he was more fitted. This treat- ment I always considered indecorous in the extreme; for ErHorvus |assuredly knew his own business better than Isocratges, who took !a very unwarrantable liberty with his forensic friend. Perhaps, had |Isocrates lived in the present day, he would have rushed into one lof the Vice-Chancellor’s Courts and hurried away the highly humorous, | but no less learned Knicut Bruce, insisting on his leaving the judicial office to become the editor of Joe Miller, or any other collection of jests. 1 accordingly re- solved on going to the Bar; but how I got there, what I did there, and how far the result has justified my resolu- tion, will be developed in the course of this Autobiography. . ROYAL DOMESTIC ECONOMY. Our loyalty has lately been severely outraged by a malicious ng appearing in the papers, QueEEN is “having mil- 4 linery and flower-rooms y erected in her various palaces, and has engaged two first-rate French artists, one as milliner, and the other as florist.” The implied object of this arrangement is the saving of expense, by enabling Her Masesty to have her “own mate- rials made up” on the mersmith when there should be a sufficient number of cases of bad writing or careless spelling to justify the infliction of that terrible retribution we were led to expect at his hands. These reasons were quite sufficient to deter me from all thoughts of a military career, though my head was once in danger of being turned to my father, which had formerly been worn by him as captain in a volunteer regiment of lawyers, which went by the name of a certain old gentleman’s Own. There was something very attractive, by the way, in the military life of those voluntary heroes who undertook the defence of the metropolis when the invasion was talked about. As another seems to be on the ¢apis, if we are to believe Dame Gossip and the Duke or WELLINGTON, it may be as well \e: recapitulate some of those advantages which the volunteers enjoyed. According to the stories of his campaigning that I have heard from my lego-military “ governor,” the fires of the metropolis were the great scenes of action in which he and his comrades were concerned. If flames were to be seen issuing from a window, the volunteers were ordered out as naturally as the pumps, and their bravery in keeping back the crowd was rewarded by front places at any interesting confla- grations that occurred. My paternal cocked-hat was not the only thing that I took into my head, or rather thrust. my head into, for his forensic wig having been once left in my way, I tried it on, and collecting the entire strength of the domestic establishment round me, I essayed an effort of oratory which must be considered the germ, if not the model, of all my maturer flights of legal eloquence. I think my determination to adopt the Bar as my future walk, or rather hobble, in life, may be traced, to this juve- nile rehearsal of the part of the Advocate. premises, and thus put into the royal pocket the profit that the tradesman or tradeswoman would otherwise secure. We beg leave indignantly to repudiate the supposition implied in this malicious paragraph, which we are sure can have no foundation; for it is notorious that the QUEEN is at the head of the Society for the Relief of the Distressed Needlewomen, and she could not therefore take any pro- ceeding by which: the earnings of that wretchedly ill-paid class would be still further curtailed. Her Masesty would, we are convinced, pause before adding a milliner’s work-room to the royal establishment, when she reflects that the example of parsimony would be immediately followed by hundreds, who can only imitate greatness in its littleness, and are always delighted when fashion affords them encouragement to an act of mean- announcing that the | ness. Every would-be leader of ¢on in her own petty and limited circle | | would be aping the royal stinginess—if it were to be practised, which we | are sure will not be the case—and we should have every parvenu family | flaunting about in home-made finery, the production of a foreign artist, | | kept—or, perhaps, starved—on the premises, in sycophantic and selfish | imitation of the arrangement royalty is said to contemplate. We believe the libel to have originated in the same malevolent spirit of detraction that accused Prince ALBERT of intending to add a slaughtering-house to his personal establishment, for the purpose of chousing the butcher out of the profit to be obtained by killing the meat. We should as soon expect to see the words, “ ALBERT, MEa?- SaLesMAN,” over the door of Buckingham Palace, or “ VicToRta, ARTISTE IN ARTIFICIAL Flowers, ’’stuck in the windows of the ground ‘floor, as bring ourselves to believe that the royal pair contemplate the ' paltry economy of entering into competition with their own trades- | peo fe We think it very hard on Her Masesty and the Prince, that {such reports should be sent abroad. lo awhwdiceds bine i ee ee a a a Sea pm |

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 21 OXFORD DOINGS> AND OXFORD DUNS. We have been inun- dated with corre- spondence on this subject, of which the following samples, chosen on our well- known principle of “audi alteram par- tem,” will enable our readers to judge for themselves :— No. I. From Mr. Moses MELCHIZE- DEC, Gene- ES ral Dealer, ee High Street. “To Mr. Punch, IR © T save the misfortune to be an Oxford tradesman, which I can assure you it is by no means the profitable concern as generally represented, not by reason, by no means, as the 7imes and other influen- tial pas says, of the ease whereby credit is given, but contrarywise, of the difficulty we have in getting ready money or any money whatever. It is all very well in the above journals and Oxford tutors of many years’ standing, and aggravated governors,—which I cannot blame them, having my own son JosH. very much addicted to billiards and a diffi- culty of squaring accounts, supposed from his attending in the shop, and has great facilities in regard of the till,—to blame us poor tradesmen | for giving long credit, and five per cent. after two years’ ditto, which I | am sure all gents must admit extremely reasonable interest; but what | can we do when young gents will live beyond their incomes, and every | tradesman anxious for custom, which small is our profits among so many, and some unfairly prevented from going into College, which is my own case? And if a young College gent has a taste for expensive amusements, such as jewellery and walking-sticks, of which my stock— though I say it that shouldn’t—is acknowledged to be very superior, if T don’t let him have the articles another will and it’s as broad as it is long and I trusts to their honor and as for inquiries, if we was to make such, it’s very little business we should do in my opinion, and how can that be satisfactory to any tradesman, which I beg leave to remain, * Sir, Your constant reader, “Mosrs MELCHIZEDEC.” **P.S. If you insert the above remarks, and having, as I hear, a son coming up, [ should be proud to see his name on my books, fo any poem fin | Genuine Eau-de-Cologne and French and German Wines, direct from the manufacturers, at low prices.” No. II.--From Tuomas Tanvem, Esq., Christchurch. ** DEAR OLD FELLOW, HeEReE’s been a credit row, as usual. We have one every Term, but nothing’s done, of course. As to getting rid of the credit system, it’s all gammon—4Zosh, Punch. They can’t do it, and what’s more, they don’t want to. The Dons stick by the Duns, and the Duns cap the Dons, and it’s all right. What. brings men up to Oxford rather than to Cambridge? The fact that it’s the fastest University, with more fashionable men—more tufts—and ten “pinks” here to one at Cambridge. This gives us our eclat, and keeps the books full. But this sort of game can’t be carried on without credit. Take my own case. I’m a younger son, with £300 allowance. There’s a family living waiting for me, and the warming-pan is a very decent old bird, who will turn out when I’m japanned. I’ve two horses entered for the Bicester Steeple-chase, a boat on the river, a kennel of bull-dogs in Jericho, and an awful bill at Crumrer’s, in the High Street, besides a tick as long as my arm at that infernal old Metcuizevec’s, for Claret and Champagne. I’m allowed, in fact, to be a credit to my College. How could I do this on my £300 a-year? Of course I shall pay some time or_ other, for Snoozum-Parva is worth £800 a-year. Meantime, | it’s credit that keeps things going at Oxford. But I maintain that our | commercial system is just the same as the London one. What did they | say in the House of Commons during the late Currency debates ?—that | a man worth £10,000 capital was justified in trading to three times the amount. I have a-year, and I don’t think, taking one year with | another, I’ve spent more than £1,000, which is a mere trifle above the | London proportion of credit to capital. Don’t be surprised at my argument—I’ve not attended two courses of the Political Economy Professor’s lectures for nothing. . Ever yours, old fellow, _ “Tom TanpEM.” No. I0.—From a Parent. “ Sir, ; “RIDICULE is sometimes efficacious when argument fails, and parental control is treated as a mere mockery. have had a son at Oxford whose conduct has caused me great uneasiness and considerable expense. He had an allowance which our rector assured me was liberal (for I consulted him, not having myself had the advantage of a University education); and yet, since he took his degree, I have paid on account of his debts a sum which, in justice to the other members of my family, 1am compelled to conceal, even from my wife. y son was considered by the head master of our Grammar School to have remarkable classical powers. He went up with every advantage including introductions from our excellent pastor and the reverend hea of the school where he had been educated, with the best counsels from a superior mother, and everything in the way of clothes, linen, and groceries that he could possibly want during his first year of residence. Naturally anxious that S should profit by the aristocratic connexions to which the University gives access, 1 own that it was with pride I heard my son, on his rare visits to his home, describe his intimacy with the noblemen and gentlemen of his own and other Colleges; and I may have listened wit — complacency to his account of the amusements which he s with such companions. I also noticed, perhaps without reprobation, his improved and fashionable appearance ; and it was a subject of frequent remark between his mother and myself, that he never appeared to wear any of the stock of clothes which he took with him from home. Willing to repose in him the most implicit con- fidence, I never thought of asking to see his bills or his receipts. It was not till he took his degree that I ascertained, with 7 and surprise, that his high companions had borrowed the money I gave him to pay his College bills, ridden horses which he hired on credit, partaken of break- fasts, dinners, and suppers which he procured in the same way, and that his tailor’s bill was of an amount equal to the expenses of my whole ousekeeping for a year. My heart bled; but what could Ido? I paid the bills, and now write to beg of you to interpose your aid in pro- curing for parents some protection from this iniquitous system. ** Yours respectfully, “THe FATHER OF A FamIty.” No. IV.—From the Rey. Jonas Cuoxer, D.D., Head of St. Chad’: Hail, ; Oxford. ? “T write to deprecate any attacks of your irreverent ridicule on our venerable academic institutions, arising out of a recent case in the Insolvent Court, which has furnished a fertile topic for the daring comment of some serious journals. Without the means of keeping up a gentlemanly expenditure, J, for one, never wish to see any young man entered on the books of my own Hall. The system of credit has been sanctioned by the wisdom of our ancestors, and I have no sympathy with the rash innovations of levelling times like these. It is highly desirable that the proper distance should be kept up between members of the University and tradesmen; and this would be materially impaired by any such inquiries into the means of individuals in statu — as have been suggested by newspaper writers, who can hardly be supposed to know the feelings of gentlemen on such subjects. *T have the honour to remain, Sir, ** Your obedient humble servant, * Jonas CHOKER.” “Old Whitey.” Sucn, it appears, is the name of Generat Taytor’s horse—the animal invulnerable to Mexican bullets. At a recent triumphal pro- cession, “ Old Whitey ”—by express desire—bore his master: when, as we learn from the American papers, “ the frenzied entausiasm” of the —— showed itself in robbing Old Whitey’s “ flowing mane and tail.” t would thus appear that human noodles, like woodcocks, are some- times caught with horse-hair. THE CHURCH OVERLAID. Tue Post says “The Bisnor or Oxrorn’s letter’to Dr. Happen affords a melancholy proof how much the Church is overlaid by the Establishment.” Children have been overlaid and stifled by their mothers ; but what if Mother Church should be overlaid and suffocated by her overgrown baby, the Establishment ?

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Go SS

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ATI ie! “ Wert, Cuantry! How po you ike your new Pony?” PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

CHRISTMAS IN ANDOVER WORKHOUSE. “ “There’s an old zayun that Crismus cums but wunce j|ayeer. Zoayused to praps; but a dooan’t cum zo offen as jthat Now. At laste a hant cum to We this two yeer, that’s jallinose. For wen acums the zayun also is a brings Good Chere, rosebeef an plumbpuddun. A hant brought sitch good | chere to we this yere nor last nuther. There Be dree hundred and vifty on us in this heer poorus, yung and old—yeable- | boddid and invirm, men, wemmun, and childurn, wun wi anuther. | There belongs to this union of ourn thirty-too parishes. Now | ses our vour Handuver gardjuns to t’others, come now let’s |gie them poor volks in the workus a good male vor wunce | this crismus, we ’ll be our two-thirds towards the xpense on’t, lif so be as yu’ll goo t’other third. No, not they, they joodn’t. No, they zed as how we liv’d too wel alreddy, we didn’t get mate twice a week out o’ the howse, and ought to think ourzelves preshus wel off wi’ the prime fare as we got inzide on’t. Wot was the consequnce? We got no Crismus dinner at all, unless ye calls vat bihacon and kabbidge acrismus Dinner. Not a mossel besides did we taste, none on us—that was every bit and crum as we had, yung and old, strong and wake, maaile and veemaaile, no diffrunce made atween none on us wotsemdever. You look into the Hamshur indypendunt and zee if wot I sez beant Tru. I dooan’t belave there ’s no sitch day now as crismus day, at laste there aint no sitch day vor sitch as we; and I thinks as vur as we be con- sarn’d, you’d best knock un out o’ yure next ‘Almanick. Unless, mister punch, you could stick over-right un—jist by way of a Juoak'for our Gardjuns. Plaze reemembur the Pore Porpers—Handover to Wit. Your obajent Zarvant, “Handover Wurkus.” ** BARNABAS BONECRUSH.” “noscrip.—labrers wagis in These parts is from 6 to nine shilluns a week, witch is Les I’me told than zum gennlemen pays for a Botal of Wine—i’ll alow that Starvayshun out 0’ the Howse is wuss than vat bihacon an kabbidge in’t—even |on crismus Day.”

SOMETHING THAT BEATS COCK-FIGHTING. WE cannot conceive that any rational person can look on the “On! Paerry wert, Tank you, Uncue; onty I'm arratD HE'S HARDLY UP TO T)yke’s talk of an attack on JoHN Buus by the Gallic Cock, as ” MY WEIGHT, AND HE RUSIIFS SO AT H!S FENCES, LIGHT BREAD. | We think we have read of an old Turkish custom, that, if carried out among us, might be found serviceable. When a Turkish baker is dis- covered to have sold brevd of short weight, his ear is nailed fast to his door-post, and he is then benevolently supplied with a sharp knife, to work, when he is tired of his fixed position, his own deliverance. How many English bakers would walk about with only one ear ! A few days ago, one Banpy—baker, of 5, Chapel Place, Brompton— was summoned for an assault, and charged with having sold a loat three ounces light of weight. ‘On examining the scales, which were at the further end of the shep, witness found an ounce weight sunk in the bottom of the scale, surrounded by a quantity of crumbs, which she took out and showed the defendant, who violently pushed her away, and struck her breast.” Banpy denied the charge. ‘ The scale had been out of order, and he had been in the habit of regulating it with a weight.” The magis- trate, however, fined Banpy £3, and expenses for assault, and particu- larly recommended the attention of the inspector of weights and measures to Banpy’s balance. Of course, BanpyY never knew of the additional ounce weight surrounded by crumbs. Like Justice, he was blind, and saw not what was within his scales. Respectability in Sausage-makers. A rettow at Clerkenwell was accused of taking filthy carcases to a certain sausage-maker, who called in evidence of character his neigh- bour, a Mr. Atcneter, “horse-slaughterer to Her Masesty.” He} said, his friend, Mr. Lansvowng, of Sharpe’s Alley, Cow Cross, “ was a respectable man, and did not make the common sausages, but only those that were ji¢ for the West-End of the town.” In other words, when horses have nominally gone to the dogs of London, they may realy appear in sausages for the exclusive nutriment of the men of the | ast,

any other than a cock-and-a-bull story.

THE DUKE’S GRAMMAR. Ir is with infinite pain that Punch feels called upon to notice the illustrious WELLINGTON’s violation of the defences of LInpLEY MurRay and Priscran, while rousing the Master-General of ihe Ordnance to the state of our own. The Iron Duke rides down the Grammar of our language with the same daring with which he rode down the old Guard at Waterloo, and smashes sentences now as he then smashed hollow squares. Our duty to our native tongue has compelled us to review with close scrutiny the las; WeLtincTon dispatch. We challenge the illustrious commander for his defence of the following sentence :— “* Views of economy of some, and I admit that the high views of national finance of others, induce them to postpone those measures absolutely necessary for mere defence and safety under existing circumstances, forgetting altogether the common practice of successful armies, in modern times, imposing upon the conquered enormous pecuniary contributions, as well as other valuable and ornamental property.” We must say that if it be the practice of successful armies “to im- pose upon the conquered valuable and ornamental property,” we, for one, should be very sorry to throw any obstacle in the way of their doing so. Why was not the Duke’s composition submitted to the master of the Normal Military School at Chelsea before its publication? We cannot help feeling that this laxity of expression in the Great Captain is cal- culated to confirm the lesser captains and subalterns in that reckless style of English composition for which they are already too notorious.

ON READING THAT SOME CLERGY OF THE DIOCESE OF OXFORD HAD STIRRED UP THEIR BISHOP TO OPPOSE DR. HAMPDEN. As once the Pope with fury fall, When Lutuer laid his heavy knocks on, At the Reformer loos’d a Bull ;— | So these at Hamppen set an Ox-on.

rinted by William Bradbury, of No. 6. York Place, Stoke Newington, and Frederick Mullett vans,ef No. 7, Church Row, Stoke Newington, both in the County of Middlesex, Printers, at th<ir Office, ia Lombard Street, in the Precinct of Whitefriars, in the City of London, and Pub. lished by them, at No. 85, Fleet Street, in the Parish of St. Bride, in the City of London.— | Sarunpay, January 15th, 1848.

at fh = —

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARiVARLE 23 “Wet, Dear; so WE ARE TO BE INVADED BY THE Frencu!” “Lor ! How nice! Why THEN WE SHALL HAVE ALL THE FRENCH Fasuions DIRECTLY THEY COME OUT.” THE KETTLE HAS DONE IT ALL! * Steam has made England no longer an island!” With this new axiom impressed—as with a wooden butter stamp— upon the quaking heart of Joun Butz, he must never again sing, or sing it very small, indeed, like the wind whiffling through a key-hole— that erst triumphant, defiant strain— Britons never shall be slaves!” And wherefore? Why, the Kettle sings him down—singing a very different stave. The Kettle sings in French; sings Vive Henri Quatre, Marlbrook sen va-t-en guerre, and other heroic and insulting melodies of our natural enemies. “ And when and where did the Kettle learn this dreadful, this most shocking music?” “Why, my dear Madam—(for Punch is always melted by the appeal of timid woman ; and it was no other than Mrs. Gerxiys from Brighton, in her best bonnet and victorine, who, on her way to Apsley House, called at 85, Fleet Street, to seek comfort in her invasion fever)—my dear Madam, the Tea-kettle first struck up the tune at Greenock, some hundred years and more ago.” “ Bless me!” cried Mrs. Gerxins; “that it should have been kept so +1 Led quiet all this time! Dear—dearest Mr. Punch, how was it “You see, Madam, how—by the ingenuity of fate—that which is ap- parently invented and fashioned for the peace and happiness of man, sometimes becomes his greatest misfortune.” “T recollect,” said the lady, a little subdued, “that dear GrRKINs once said the same thing of his first Mrs. G. But the Tea-kettle, Mr. Punch—’ “The Tea-kettle, Madam, made as you would imagine in the best- tempered moments of Vutcan—he was the ancient god of Tea-kettles— for the comfort and delight of Brirannia’s daughters, will, it is much to be feared by many elderly gentlewomen, bring French lancers into their parlours, French dragoons into their dining-rooms, and French pioneers into their wine-cellars.” “Bless me/” cried Mrs. GERKINS. “That Tea-kettle at Greenock—sitting and singing on the hoh—you would have likened to a halcyon brooding on the waters. My dear Mrs. Gerkrns, that kettle was—as we now know—a cockatrice hatching French shells, to be thrown in at the windows and dropt through the roofs of Englishmen’s houses, poetically known to the law as castles! ” “ Bless me/” again cried Mrs. GERKINS. “ But how, Sir? How?” “There was a little boy, Ma’am, named James Watt—a very dull hoy he was thought, but nevertheless a genius; for genius has often, like a diamond, such a crust of dullness about it, that nobody believes in the possibility of its contained splendour. Well, Ma’am, this little boy would sit and watch his aunt’s Kettle—singularly forgetful now and then of his aunt’s bannocks—and would gape and gape at the steam, as it rolled and rolled from the spout ; and would seem to listen to genii singing inside—singing triumphant songs, only understood by that little boy ;_for his aunt—good soul !—had no ear for such music.” “La! Well, I love to hear the Kettle sing, myself,’ said Mrs. Gerkins; “’specially with crumpets. But this little boy, Sir? The odd child!” “Well, Ma’am, it is now known that he saw all sorts of shapes roll up in the steam, and melt away like dreams—dreams that have since become of iron truth and reality. It is now certain that he heard in the singing kettle the songs of the English Cycxops (the very fine fellow, ma’am, is still to be found at Birmingham and other places too numerous to mention)—the Cyciors making railways, and carriages, and sawing-mills and, in fact, steam-engines—as barbers say of their perfumery—in every variety. But, Madam, Master James Wart did not see and hear what followed; or, if he did, with singular prudence (for he was a Scotchman) he said nothing of the matter.” “ And what, Mr. Punch—what did he see—what hear? ” (It is a festive season; and we do not, within a shade or two, blush the crimson, that at any other time we certainly should blush, to own that we had only just breakfasted, and were dragging ourselves—like a fly through rows Esa or the Morning Post, when Mus. GERKINS begged and received an audience.) “See here, Madam,” we said, removing the Kettle from the hob to the glowing fire. Immediately the Kettle struck up, like a young lady who will sing; and in a minute or two poured forth clouds of vapour, like some gentlemen who wi// speak. “‘ We are enabled to show you all that Master Wart kept to him- self. Dear Mrs. Gerxins, keep your eye upon the steam, and listen.” Whereupon we took our faithful iron pen (alas! why for these days was not the pen a sugar-stick refined to a point?) and, as with a wand, endeavoured to fix the gentlewoman’s eye upon the object. “Look close to the spout, Madam, and you will behold the French fleet towed by steamers, coming out of the mouth of Boulogne, an crossing the Chevad. They have arrived at Dover: and now keep your eye to the spout again, Ma’am; and do you not perceive—of course you do—thousands of boats putting off, full of soldiers, and horses, and field-pieces, to the beach? The whobbling of the Kettle, Ma’am, is the lively representation of the guns of Dover Castle, a-firmg down upon the shingles. “You will now perceive in that cloud the railway train—winding as the sea-serpent—whirling the French army to London. * And now, Ma’am—keep your eye close—and you will perceive the French cuirassiers and French infantry, with their swords and bayonets, a-charging of the mob through no end of streets and thoroughfares.” “Bless me! I can see nothing for the steam,” said the punctilious Mrs. GEerkIns. “No, Ma’am; to be sure not: for that is the firing of the French, and their powder is coarse, which makes the smoke of corresponding thickness. “ Now, Ma’am, look a little to the left, and you will perceive all in confusion about the Courts of Law and the Palace. There is the Lord Chancellor gallantly swallowing of the Seals of Office to secrete them about. his noble person from an insolent and curious enemy. “There is Her Gracious Masesty upon a milk-white charger; and Prince ALBERT, and the rest of the Royal Family, affectionately mounted upon the crupper. “The Eart or ELLEsMERE approaches the Royal group, with his gallant sword devotedly pointing out the best way to run. And there 1s aaa But here, the water being exhausted, the steam ceased. “Why, there’s no more steam, Mr. Punch!” cried Mrs. GERKINs. “No, Ma’am; because London has struck to the enemy, who, being out of ammunition, has generously ceased firing.” “ But the Kettle makes a noise still,” said Mrs. GERKINs. “That, Ma’am, is the kettle-drums (trimmed with black crape) of the Horse Guards, beating a retreat from the invader.” “ Why,” cried Mrs. Gerkins, snatching the Kettle from the fire— “the Kettle ’s ruined for ever! Look at the holes.” “Which, Ma’am,” said we, “supplies the lively moral. The Kettle is, our beloved England, and the French army, that by means of steam is to come, will burn all sorts of holes in it.” “And this is your precious steam!” screamed Mrs. GERKINs. “* We ’re to be robbed and I don’t know what by the French? This is your Master Wart’s steam ?” “Yes, Ma’am,” said we, cool as ARCHIMEDES amidst impending destruction—“ yes, Ma’am, THE KETTLE HAS DONE IT ALL!” WE FULFIL THE PROMISE TO OUR SUBSCRIBERS BY PUBLISHING TIIE CONCLUDING PART OF THE SPANISH GIANT. VOL. XIV. D

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PUNCH. OR THE LONDON CHARITVART. GREAT THEATRICAL EFFECT. | We know it has been customary to look upon certain violent proceedings, which would subject their perpetrators to a liability to find bail before any | Police Magistrate, as great Theatrical Effects. When Rusrni used to} pummel Grist ten times round the stage of Her Majesty’s Theatre, and | they ultimately rolled on to the bed in their respective rd/es of Othello and | Desdemona, it was called a tremendous Theatrical Effect. When Kran | the elder pimked poor Cooper in the chest, with such violence as to| take away his wind for at least a minute, it was considered an extraordinary Theatrical Effect. The Latest Effect of this class is now being exhibited at the St. James’s Theatre, where Antigone is being performed with a perfec- tion, both dramatic and musical, that is highly creditable to the management. We must, however, object to the cruel effect produced by Mons. Bocace, j/ dt Wa aiane f © A! t+ tbh x A Soo \ | - oe a » yw KS ‘ 7 Maat \ ZZ -- - ms P "ih. , P NS _/ “ j - Ary ae ey s ps in dragging poor Avtigone across the stage by the hair of her head. Surely, | without any detriment to the Effect, it might be produced just as well by | using a dummy, instead of the actual heroine. Who would think of shooting | a real Clown out of a real cannon in a Pantomime ? yet we have often seen | this singular piece of artillery exercise gone through upon the stage by the aid of a lay figure, and the result has been almost as satisfactory to the audience, as if Clown himself had been let cff—no, not let off, but actually discharged—with real gunpowder. We throw out this hint for the con- sideration of Mons. Bocacg, who might just as well produce his Great | Theatrical Effect upon a dummy, as drag a real young lady by a real head of | real hair from O. P. to P.8., amid the mingled horror and applause of the audience at the terrible reality of the situation. Who shall escape Whipping? At the Wandsworth Police three mere boys were sentenced to “ be well | whipped” for having stolen some iron and sold it. They were none of them | more than twelve years of age. They were sentenced, we say, to be whipped ; and the reporter records the fact with great seeming satisfaction. Certainly, this juvenile delinquency is a sad social evil, and should be suppressed ; but 9” “none of them more than twelve years old Have they been taught right | than the child-thief, deserve the lash ?” GO-CARTS FOR ADULTS. Consipermnc what horrid times we have had in the City, when some of the first merchants have been unable to keep their legs, we think we ought not to forget the humble pedestrians who are desirous of preserving a respectable standing. It is not against the Panic, but against the greasy and slippery pavement that the persons alluded to require to be fortified ; for it is difficult to maintain one’s footing in this damp weather, when the constant dripping of the rain makes London as slippery as one large dripping- pan. We have consequently invented—but we do not mean to take out a patent, so any respectable pirate may appropriate the idea—an Adult Go-Cart, on the principle of the safety carriage which infants are provided with as a vehicle to their earliest advances in life. We do not sce why children of a larger growth should not be equally cared for, and we hope to see the general adoption of this excellent contrivance. Songs of the Rail. Tuxe—"* Young Lochinvar.” O young Witttam Jones is come out of the West, Of all the bright engines, his engine ’s the best; And save his grim stoker, he helper had none, tle drove all unhelp’d, and he drove all alone, So dauntless he rush’d midst his engine’s loud moans ; Did you e’er hear of driver like young W1LLIAM JoNEs ? He stopp’d not for water. And he skimm’d o’er the s But when at the station he slacken’d his rate, The up-train had started, the down-train came late ; And a laggard in travel, a luggage-train guard, Was to wed the fair Potty of Jones’s regard. he stopp’d not for coke, *T long woo’d your daughter, my suit you denied ; Love swells like a steam-valve, and bursts when it’s tied; And now | am come, with my lost Potty B To walk once the platform, drink one cup of tea : There are maidens who’d gladly give body and bones, To jump at the tender of young WiLt1AM Jones.” The bride stirred the Congou, the spoon took it up, He quaff’d off the tea, and he put down the cup; She stoop’d on the pavement her sandal to tie, And she show’d her neat foot with a tear in her eye: He took her soft hand, ere her mother said nay ; “Now walk on the platform,” said young Wi1tt1am J. So stately his form, and so beauteous her face, That never a plank such a couple did grace ; While the stoker did fret, and the engine did fume, And the station-clerk wink’d in his little back-room, And the navvys all whisper’d, “ Ay, Brit, what d’ ye say? They ’d make a neat couple, that gal and young J.” One touch of her hand, and one word in her ear, And they open’dae ze that by them stood near ; So light o’er the cushions the fair lady sprung— So light the policeman the bright brass bell rang— “She is won! we are off! there’s no train in the way, And the next does not stop here,” said young Wittiam J. L There was laughing and roaring with every man; They laugh'd and they roar’d till their eyes briny ran: They must get a new maiden to hand out the tea, For the fair Mrs. Jongs there they never will see; And each one that knows her will laughingly say, “That ’s a deucid ’cute fellow, that young Wiittam J.!” Sanitary Victims. treams render’d black by his smoke ; GOVERNMENT, it appears, has travelled to Manchester, to pension it may be permitted us to ask, what has society yet done for these children, | the widow of the late Mr. WALKER, surgeon of that place, who | was killed (on duty) by fever. Very good. We rejoice in the act ; from wrong? or have they been left, like thousands of human vermin, to grow | and, rejoicing, beg to call the attention of the authorities to the | up ignorant of the difference of good and evil? It is very easy for society “to| widow of Docror Lywycu, slain by the dirty City of Tondon— whip ;” but we are now and then fain to ask,“ Does not society itself, more | which, with shabbiness quite equal to its dirt, has hitherto neglected | the relict and children of the victim. | @Q 325 we,

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL : THE SUN-LIGHT AND GAS-LIGHT. Ovr old friend the Sun is in the highest spirits, and came out—for the first time this season—on Saturday, the 15th of January, to show him- self to the London public on the occasion of the gratifying proposition to place a tax upon his old rival Gas, who has, until now, enjoyed a perfect freedom from all imposts—except on the iron that makes its lamp-posts. It really is rather unfair that Pumsus should be taxed equally all the year round, whether he is in good or bad spirits, whether he comes out all smiles and prosperity, or is obscured beneath the clouds of adversity, while the Gas is altogether exempt from any obligation to the Government. We are not advocates for taxes on light, either real or artificial; and we had rather see the burden taken off the rays of ApoLto than put upon those which emanate from the Gas-works of the metropolis. Considering what an early riser the Sun is for a great portion of the year, we think the pecuniary duties placed upon him may be objected to as taxes on industry. We have heard that Young Gas is exceedingly indignant at the idea of being taxed; and we are rather glad to find that this is the case, for he never flares up without enlightening the community. A PROFESSOR’S PROFESSIONS. WE perfectly agree with SHaksrEart’s objections to those people— be they ladies or gentlemen—who “profess too much;” and we fear thata certain individual, whom we may as well call Proressor PuFFAWAY, is liable to the imputation cast upon a class of professors by the Swan of Avon. Proressor Purraway seems to endeavour to outdo himself in the exaggerated promises he holds out from time to time to the public through the medium of advertisements. Everybody is familiar with his celebrated “ bad leg of fifty years’ standing,” which a touch of his Ointment has, he declares, restored to its original soundness. But what are we to think of an old lady whom he has cured, according to | his own account, of two bad legs after she had been the patient of all | the first physicians in the country, and “an inmate of two hospitals ?” We have seen Ducrow on two horses, with a leg on each; but an old lady in two hospitals, with a leg in each, is a greater wonder than we can give Proressor Purraway credit for. Bow-Bell Farces. WE have avolume of Coventry Mysteries ; if the show acted in Cheap- side on the 10th inst. be often re-acted, we may expect a collection of | Bow-Church Farees. To adopt the phraseology of profane playbills, we | may observe of the confirmation of Dr. Hamppen, that it went off | ‘with roars of laughter” from crowded pews. Our respect for the Church prevents the hope that “it will be repeated.” SONG FOR THE LUMBER TROOP. TO BE SUNG IN THE PRESENT PROSPECT OF AN INVASION. Ho! brave comrades of the Lumber, Make ye ready for the foe; Wake the City from her slumber, Let the tocsin ring from Bow! There’s a rumour of invasion— Sound the trumpet, beat the drum, Be prepared for the occasion— But the French will never come. Hurray ! Grocers, Merchant Tailors, Tanners, Hark! from business duty calls ; Hoist aloft your several banners, Raise the war-cries of your Halls. What though idle boys burlesque you ? Shout “ A Goldsmith for the Right ! ” Cry, “A Vintner to the Rescue ! ”— Though you ’ll never have to fight. urray ! Be ye stirring, all ye merry Men of good St. Mary- Axe And Cheapside, and Bucklersbury, Who have never turn’d your backs ; Pour ye down the Hiil of Ludgate, Through the pass of Temple Bar, Like a torrent through a floodgate— Though there won’t be any war. Hurray ! In defence of home and beauty, To the death prepared to stand, We’|l obey the call of duty, And we’ll march along the Strand. With heroic hearts undaunted We will rush to the Review; Which is all we shall be wanted, Fellow citizens, to do. Hurray ! We will go through the most trying Of manceuvres undismay’d ; With determined souls defying All the perils of Parade. And we ’ll dream not of retiring, And we ’ll neither duck nor stoop ; Though our comrades may be firing All their ramrods on our troop. Hurray ! And when al! our danger’s ended, In our military dress Won’t we have a banquet splendi¢, Ready for us at our mess ! Won't we drink the British Yeoman, And the Civie Volunteer ; And defiance to the foeman, Whom, in fact, we need not fear. Hurray! GOLD AND SILVER WASHING. WE all remember the modest assertion of the bagman, who declared, so extensive was the business of his firm, that it saved £500 a-year in ink by omitting to dot the 7’s or stroke the ?’s. The Mechanic's Ma- gazine gives a like gentle puff to a certain manufacturer of pencil-cases. He has given in his adhesion to the Sanitary question, and makes great profit out of his virtue. For instance :— | “The refreshing and hea'thy system of washing by the workmen, enables their em- ployers to realise about £400 annually by the sale of the deposit of gold and silver remaining in the water-tanks after the mem huve performed their daily ablutions.” The writer is, no doubt, deep in Lempritre, and remembers that when Minas took a dip in the river Pactolus, he left all the sands so much gold-dust. We wonder, if water-tanks were established at the Treasury, whether the country would make a proportionate saving from the clean hands of all public servants,—or whether a water-tank at the Stock Exchange would turn out a like profitable investment? We remember that Str Kenetm Diepy declares that warts are curable by “ washing the hands in moonshine in a silver basin.” A moonshine washing very like the “deposit of gold and silver” in the tradesman’s water-tanks.

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. THE UNIVERSITY BOYS. Suvce the old abodes of letters Are inhabited by boys; If they must be spendthrift debtors, Let them only deal in toys. Stop them in their reckless courses, *Gainst their ruin quick provide ; Give them only rocking-horses ; _ Such as schoolboys ought to ride. kaa Let not dealers, sharp and cunning, On their innocence impose ; _ With the horses made for running, Rapidly the money goes. If they have a taste for glitter, Give not jewels rich and rare ; Sure Mosaic would be fitter For the silly boys to wear. Out of debt and degradation Keep them by the aid of toys Fitting to their mental station, Hapless, feeble-minded boys ! ty PILL 7 Te 22 /; a WH ry iG “4 RLE7 i" 1 V7 | Vi x aS Vif; - —, COURT OF ALDERMEN—DEFENCE OF THE CITY! WE understand that a Court is called for Monday next, in order that ALDERMAN Moon may bring forward a motion that, at the present moment, is of vital importance not only to the City itself, but to all Englishmen who feel their moral dignity associated with the inviolate majesty of London. It is, perhaps, not so well known as it ought to be, that ALDERMAN Moon is on terms of most interesting intimacy with the Duke or WELLINGTON. The Aldermen has given (or if not, has sold) many touching proofs of his admiration of the Duke. Hence, he has obtained peculiar knowledge of the Duke’s views, and is very generally considered—throughout, at least, two chop-houses in the City—to be ¢he Alderman on whom the City of London, in its hour of need, and when the spurs of the invader shall jingle above British pavement, will affectionately rely. Well, the Alder- man feels the honourable weight of his position. As he walks down Threadneedle Street, he feels that the doors rely upon his energy, upon his foresight, that they shall not be broken in by the pickaxe of the pioneer ; that the wives and daughters of his fellow-citizens (blandly serving in the shops) defy the billets of the invader, whilst Moon is spared them. “ dx Clair de la Tune” is at the present moment the fashionable air upon all civic pianofortes. And the Alderman has proved himself, as defender of the City, worthy of his trust; for his motion at the Court of Aldermen convened for Monday next runs thus :— “That, contemplating without fear, but also without supineness, the extreme probability, to say nothing of the manifest likel. sood, of an invasion of England by the French, with a subsequent, if not immediately following attack, upon the hitherto inviolable, and it may not be too much to say, virgin city of London, it is resolved that this Court take every necessary and energetic means to repel the proud invader. In which case, and for the better following out of so high and national a purpose, it be further resolved that the gates of Temple Bar, a civic palladium, be immediately furnished with a new Cuvsp’s lock, and a pair of patent inges. It is expected that so important a motion can hardly be brought forward without engaging, on both sides, all the eloquence of the City. Friendship between England and France. Ir has given us “wonder great as our content” to find that the best possible feeling towards England exists in France, notwithstanding the asser- tions that have lately been made so very boldly to the contrary. A most indubitable instance of friendship has just been shown by our Gallic neighbours, who have actually invited the O’ConneELis over to Paris, to a banquet on the 13th of February, and thus given them a temptation to quit England. Now it is obvious that even the most temporary riddance of these trouble- some persons will be a boon to Great Britain; and there cannot be a question, therefore, that the French must wish us well, or they never would offer to relieve us, even for a short period, of the presence of the O’ConNneELIs. There is not a stronger sign of true and disinterested regard than a readiness to participate in the annoyances of another; and the proposal from the French to take a share, however small, of the company of the O’ConNELLs, is a more hopeful circumstance for the restoration and duration of the entente cordiale, than any other occurrence since the “ glorious three days” which we can call to our recollection. The Weaker Sex in Alarming Strength. | “Mr. Puncu,—Being a bachelor of somewhat timid disposition, and | having urgent business in the neighbourhood of Weston-super-Mare, you may . ; | possibly judge my feelings, when in my morning’s Post I read the subjoined :— * Weston-super-Mare, described by the Guide-books as “‘a delightful watering- place,” now contains forty single ladies to every single man.’—Plymouth Times. * Now, Mr. Punch, having, as I say, unavoidable affairs to transact at Weston-super-Mare, may 1— | under the alarming circumstance | narrated above—be permitted to carry fire-arms or any other de- fensive weapons? ** Yours, tremblingly, * CELEBS IN DREAD OF A WIFE.” Ni!) . ee **PRINCELY STYLE.” Tue French papers say that ABD-EL-KADER is to end his days in France, in “ princely style!” That is, the “ Desert Hawk” will have gilded bars to his cage, with an unlimited supply of Paris sugar- plums.

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“daHLO AHL JO NAZOG-V-ITVH AGNV ANO dO XIS “AO NOILSHNO LIGHWO GAYOAXO AHL ‘ee iy Ny Wy ; WY Wy yj s . YW. eG Wh” fli J ~~. ys Ov Wh pa 7 tee 47 MAU 44

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. IRISH QUARTERS. “TO MR. PUNCH. “ Temporary Barracks, in an Old Stable-yard, “ Killany, Co. Cork. 1R,—The English public hears a great deal of the misery of the peasant in Ireland, and the danger of the landlord in Ireland; but no voice has awakened attention to the sufferings of the military in Ireland. Sir, I am a wretched subal- -~— tern, quartered with ten rank and file in a dis- .-~._ turbed district, barony of Killany, County Cork. - == Disturbed district! I should be thankful for any =~ disturbance that would give us something to do. = For this weary month past, the only disturbance S T’ve heard anything of has been rats. _ “By Jove! Sir, 1’m gradually becoming morose and misanthropic. I’ve taken to neglecting my person, and talking to myself. I’m quartered in a stable-yard. What is now my room was once acow-byre, and my men are in the adjacent stable, with a pig-sty convenient. I can’t go out, for it’s ; always raining. You can’t form a notion of Irish ‘.=- * vain. It hasn’t energy to pour. It has a lazy ==.--. y Celtic fashion of drizzling. If Ireland be “the first gem of the sea,” it certainly is a gem of the first ‘‘ water”? There, you may form some notion of the state I’m in, when I tell you I find relief in a joke like that. Well; Ican’t stir out, because it’s always raining; and I can’t stay in, because the chimney is always smoking. Mind, I can’t blame the chimney. It smokes, as I do, from sheer ennui. The best-behaved chimney would be glad to smoke under the same dreary circumstances. Under ordinary discom- forts of this kind, one would look forward to dinner; but here, Soyer himself would be driven to despair. The bread’s sour, the porter’s flat, the mutton’s tough, and the whiskey’s adulterated. I don’t blame the distiller. It would be impossible to keep spirits above proof in such a quarter. ; : : “ Sir, L have no books, and no internal resources. I can’t draw; and if I could, there’s nothing to ske!ch. I don’t play the flute; and if I did, there’s nobody to listen to me. I never wrote a tragedy; but I think I’m fast getting into that state of mind in which tragedies are written. Anything lighter is out of the question. I whistle four hours per diem, yawn five, smoke six, and sleep the rest of the twenty-four, with a running accompaniment of swearing to all these occupations except the last, and I’m not sure I don’t swear in my dreams. “Tn one word, I’m getting desperate. I have had thoughts of turning Terry Alt, and exciting the inhabitants to outrage, for want of fi —a Act for the Preservation of Peace with France. NOTICE OF MOTION. Mr. Puncu, with a view to dispense with the necessity of any costly addition to our National Defences: To move for an Act imposing severe Penalties on all and sundry Persons who, by speech or writing, shall boast, brag, glory, rant, or rave of or concerning Poictiers, Crecy, Agincourt, Blenheim, or Waterloo; or shall directly or indirectly allude to or mention any success or advantage lately, or in times past, obtained by this country, either at the places above mentioned, or any others, over the arms of France; or who shall from henceforth put forward or publish the assertion, that one Englishman can beat three Frenchmen ; or shall use any other kind of insulting and offensive language which may be calculated to provoke the French to a breach of the peace. TRAVELS IN LONDON. A NIGHT’S PLEASURE. Tne composer of the Overture of the New Grand Comic Christmas Pantomine, Harlequin and the Fuiry of the Spangled Pocket-handkerchief, or the Prince of the Enchanted Nose, arrayed in a bran new Christmas suit, with his wristbands and collar turned elegantly over his cuffs and away the Pantomine Overture begins. I pity a man who can’t appreciate a Pantomine-Overture. Children do not like it: they say “ Hangit, I wish the Pantomine would begin : ” but for us it is always a pleasant moment of reflection and enjoyment. It is not diffieult music to understand, like that of your MenpELssonnNs and BEETHOVENS, whose symphonies and sonatas Mrs. Spec states must be heard a seore of times before you can comprehend them. But of the proper Pantomime-music I am a delighted connoisseur. Perhaps it is resell you meet so many old friends in these compositions con- sorting together in the queerest manner, and occasioning numberless pleasant surprises. Hark! there goes “Old Dan Tucker” wandering into the “Groves of Blarney ;” our friends the “ Scots wha hae uw? Wallace bled” march rapidly down “ Wapping Old Stairs,’ from which the “ Figlia del Reggimento” comes bounding briskly, when she = eet, embraced, and carried off by “ Billy Taylor,” that brisk young ellow. All this while you are thinking with a faint, sickly kind of hope, that perhaps the Pantomime may be a good one; something like Harlequin and the Golden Orange Tree, which you recollect in your youth; some- thing like For¢unio, that marvellous and delightful piece of buffoonery, which realised the most. gorgeous visions of the absurd. You may be happy, perchance: a glimpse of the old days may come back to you. something to employ me. And as to protecting the gentry, how can one have any spirit to protect people who don’t ask one to dinner ? “Sir, there’s no hunting, and no shooting, and no dining, and no | dancing, and no drinking, and no duty. My last pound of cigars is | running low. I am rapidly sinking into an idiot in uniform. Talk of the maddening effects of the solitary system in Pentonville Model | Prison! Give me detachment duty in Ireland. Better be hanged, | drawn, and quartered in a decent country, than quartered without the other preliminaries in Ireland. Oh, Punch, plead for me and my fellow- sufferers. | * Yours, “A Wrercnep SvBALTERN.” | | The Abd-el-Kader Pyramid. Tue French papers say— ‘The Government has decided that a small pyramid shall be erected cn the spot in which the interview between Anp-FL-Kapek and the DuKE p'AUMALE took place, to per- petuate the memory of that event.” And as the French Government have, it seems, determined to break the faith pledged on the site of the future structure, it may serve “a double debt to pay,” namely, a Pyramid and a Column of Infamy! NO “ HONOUR AMONG” CERTAIN FOLKS. Aw unprincipled individual has attempted to extort a sum of money from Marsnat Sovurr. Surely the Marshal’s own “extortions” in the way of plate and pictures during the war of the Peninsula ought to have obtained for him a more respectful consideration from the fraternity. | Irish Game Laws. | lst January. Lanptorp shooting begins. 31st December. Landlord shooting ends. | Certificates may be had from Jonn ARcHZISHOP oF TUAM, and| Fatuer McDermott. children’s throats. Lives there the man with soul so dead, the being ever so dlasé and travel-worn, who does not feel some shock and thrill still? Just at that moment, when the bell (the dear and familiar bell of your youth) begins to tingle, and the curtain to rise, and you see the large shoes and ankles, the flesh-coloured leggings, the crumpled knees, the gorgeous robes and masks finally, of the actors ranged on the stage to shout the opening chorus. All round the house you hear a great gasping a-ha-a from a thousand Enjoyment is going to give place to Hope. Desire is about to be realised. O you blind little brats! Clap your hands, and cram over the boxes, and open your eyes with happy wonder! Clap your hands now. In three weeks more, the ReEverEND Docror SwIsuTaiL expects the return of his young friends to Sugarcane House. % * * . 2 King Beak, Emperor of the Romans, having invited all the neigh- bouring Princes, Fairies, and Enchanters to the feast at which he | celebrated the marriage of his only son, Prince Aquiline, unluckily gave the liver-wing of the fowl which he was carving to the Prince’s god- mother, the Fairy Bundanna, while he put the gizzard-pinion on the plate of the Hxchanter Gorgibus, King of the Maraschino Mountains, and father of the Princess Rosolia, to whom the Prince was aflianced. The outraged Gorgibus rose from table in a fury, smashed his plate of chicken over the head of Aing Beak’s Chamberlain, and wished that Be : nose might grow on the instant as long as the sausage before him. It did so; the screaming Princess rushed away from her bride- groom, and her father, breaking off the match with the House of Beak, ordered his daughter to be carried in his sedan by the two giant-porters Gor and Gogstay, to his castle in the Juniper Forest, by the side of the bitter waters of the Absinthine Lake, whither, after upsetting the marriage-tables, and flooring King Beak in a single combat, he himself repaired, The latter monarch could not bear to see or even to hear his dis- figured son, When the Prince Aquiline blew his unfortunate and monstrous nose, | the windows of his father’s palace broke; the locks of the doors and embroidered satin tie, takes a place at his desk, waves his stick, |

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| 30 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARIL. started ; the dishes and glasses of the king’s banquet jingled and smashed as they do on board a steamboat in a storm ; the liquor turned sour; the Chancellor’s wig started off his head, and the Prince’s royal father, disgusted with his son’s appearance, drove him forth from his palace, and banished him the kingdom. Life was a burthen to him on account of that nose. He fled from a world in which he was ashamed to show it, and would have preferred a perfect solitude, but that he was obliged to engage one faithful attendant to give him snuff (his only consolation) and to keep his odious nose in order. : a But as he was wandering in a lonely forest, entangling his miserable trunk in the thickets, and causing the birds to fly scared from the branches, and the lions, stags, and foxes to sneak away in terror as they heard the tremendous booming which issued from the fated Prince whenever he had occasion to use his pocket-handkerchief, the Fairy of the Bandanna Islands took pity on him, and, descending in her car drawn by doves, gave him a’kerchief which rendered him invisible whenever he placed it over his monstrous proboscis. Having occasion to blow his nose (which he was obliged to do pretty frequently, for he had taken cold while lying out among the rocks and morasses in the rainy miserable nights, so that the peasants, when they heard him snoring fitfully, thought that storms were abroad) at the gates of a castle by which he was pass- ing, the door burst open, and the Irish Giant (afterwards Clown, indeed) came out, and wondering looked about, furious to see no one. The Prince entered into the castle, and whom should he find there but the Princess Rosolia, still plunged in despair. Her father snubbed her perpetually. “I wish he would snub me!” exclaimed the Prince, pointing to his own monstrous deformity. In spite of his misfortune, she still remembered her Prince. “Even with his nose,” the faithful Princess cried, “1 love him more than all the world beside ! ” At this declaration of unalterable fidelity, the Prince flung away his handkerchief, and knelt in rapture at the Princess’s feet. She was a little scared at first by the hideousness of the distorted being before her—but what will not woman’s faith overcome? Hiding her head on his shoulder (and so losing sight of his misfortune), she vowed to love — still (in those broken verses which only Princesses in Pantomimes eliver). At this instant King Gorgibus, the Giants, the King’s Household, with clubs and battle-axes, rushed in. Drawing his immense scimetar, and seizing the Prince by his too-prominent feature, he was just on the point of sacrificing him, when —when, I need not say, the Fairy Bandanna (Miss Benptco), in her amaranthine car drawn by Paphian doves, appeared and put a stop to the massacre. King Gorgibus Sonsen Pantaloon, the two Giants first and second Clowns, and the Prince and Princess (who had been, all the time of the Fairy’s speech, and actually while under their father’s scimetar, unhooking their dresses) became the most elegant Harlequin and Columbine that I have seen for many along day. The nose flew up to the ceiling, the music began a jig, and the two Clowns, after saying “ How are you?” went and knocked down Pantaloon. A RECIPE FOR A NEW IRISH SOUP CALLED POTAGE D'IRELANDE. A Sour for the Irish Punch fain would propose, Tis a secret he’s happy indeed to disclose ; Its virtue he owns will consist in its name, But many illustrious things are the same ; The splendid invention a line will reveal— Tis Soup @ /a Soyer, or Soyez tranquille. Gentlemen in Difficulties. Wut really constitutes a case of a Gentleman in Difficulties, it would be very hard indeed to define. We have heard it said, “‘ So-and- so is in difficulties,” though we see him driving his cab as usual, and giving his dinner-parties with the utmost ease and off-handedness, as if the word “ difficulty ” was one quite unknown to his vocabulary. After an earnest and attentive consideration of the subject, we have come to the conclusion that a Gentlemn is really in difficulties, when he attempts to pick up a fourpenny-piece with a worsted glove on his hand. * PLAIN AS A PIKE-STAFF.” Q. Wuat is the meaning of Tenants’ Rights in Tipperary ? A. Landlords’ Funeral Rites, echoes + saat

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PUNCH, OR THE L

ONDON CHARIVARI 31

LORD JOHN RUSSELL’S BOWL OF BISHOP. gt this usually inclement season of the year, the cheerful mug of egg-flip and the comforting tumbler of hot-spiced elder cordial are in great request, as the means of raising low spirits and warm- ing the cockles of the chilled heart. Perhaps, however, both egg-hot and elder- wine must yield in their elevating and invigorating properties to a good Bishop. Hence, doubtless, it is, that, in pursuance of his well-known liberal feelings, Lorp Jonn Russett has selected the present = time as peculiarly appropriate to the == donation which he has just made to the == destitute people of Hereford. The Pre- = mier, indeed, appears to have given them more Bishop than they know what to do with ; for the public at large, through the channels of the press, has been absolutely deluged with his lordship’s Bishop; and the Bishop has got so completely into our heads, that it may be ques- tioned whether we have not had more of it than is good for us. Lorp Jonn’s Bishop, in some quarters, has given much satisfaction ; in others, it has been greatly objected to. By sonie palates it has been ronounced not to have the orthodox flavour; and hence a quantity of ot water has been added to it by certain parties, who, however, by so doing, have only made a mess of it. The Bishop appears to have been disliked at Oxford, and dissatisfaction was expressed with it by thirteen dignitaries of the Church, few of whom, it seems, had ever tasted it. he Dean or HEREFORD refused the Bishop altogether; but swallowed it at last on compulsion, with very many wry faces. We shall not undertake to decide on the merits of Lorp Joun’s Bishop, and will content ourselves with publishing the following testimouials which yt a sent to us, and of the genuineness of which we have no oubt.

“No. I. Tuts is to certify, that to my taste the Hereford Bishop of Lorp JouN RussELL AND Co. is a perfectly wholesome and highly palatable beverage. It is wholly free from any deleterious ingredients; and [ have no hesitation in terming it an excellent compound. The Hereford Bishop is quite after my own heart. I relish it exceedingly, and have much pleasure in giving it my recommendation. “R. Dus.” “No, II. For some time, I regret to say, I entertained an unfavourable impression with respect to the Hereford Bishop made by Lorp Jony RUvssELL, and, in common with others, was induced to speak dispa- ragingly thereof. My opinion of it, however, was founded on mere hearsay, and I now candidly admit, was an erroneous prejudice. I have at length tested this Bishop, and, having given it a fair trial, unhesi- tatingly pronounce it to be a superior article. I not only think the Bishop may be taken with perfect safety, but with great benefit to the internal constitution. “S. Oxon.” After these attestations in its favour, it is probable that Lorn Jonn Rvsse1v’s Bishop will become popular; though neither that nor any other Bishop, we imagine, will ever rival the popularity of Puuch, BREACH OF PRIVILEGE. WE are sorry to be compelled to notice, onthe part of a publication c respectable as the Builder, a case of what we are justified in pro- nouncing a gross breach of privilege. Everybody knows that we some years ago made the Nelson Column and Trafalgar Square our own; and though we can make some allowance for the professional pilferer who from habit cannot keep his hands out of his neighbour’s pockets, we cannot pardon, in any one holding an honourable station in the world, those acts that none but the poorest of wits are generally guilty of. It is a lamentable fact, that the Bui/der has made a joke on ‘Trafalgar Square and the Nelson Column. We might throw the whole concern, fountains, statues, oyster-shells, and all, into Chancery, if we thought the materials worth the expense of an injunction; but we prefer warning our usually excellent contem- porary against a repetition of such an offence as he has on this occasion committed. As it is the first fault we will not be severe; and we may erhaps make this apology for the Bui/der, that he thought we had one with the CoMmn, and he therefore considered himself entitled to make use of the old materials. We trust he will be more careful for the future, and not infringe upon a right of which we claim exclusively the exercise.

We really shall proceed for compensation against the

|time, we must strongly combat the proposal, which has not yet been | parapet, Commissioners of Woods and Forests, if we are put to any more trouble about Trafaigar Square, either in making jokes upon it ourselves, or protecting the subject against trespassers.

ur Plan for sFortifying London. As it seems settled we are to be invaded, despite our wooden walls, and as the Guards are to march out of London by the Edgeware or Hampstead Road, while the enemy march into it by Camberwell or Clapham, we have turned our attention to a plan for fortifying the metropolis. Since Jast Saturday, we have accordingly mastered the works of VauBAN and Cornorn, with the improvements of CorMONTAIGNE, MonTaLemMbert, BousNarp, CHASSELOUP DE Raat, and CHouMARA. Fortified by the authority of these great names, we sat down and worked till our head was filled with Aorn-rorks, our attention distracted with unravelling ravelins, and our judgment utterly perplexed with |redoubts. In fact, we got into “a mighty maze,” but came out of it (as | we always do) “not without a plan.”

Ww. » e -, ~ 7 \ oN VA = ay =| aS u— * 4 \ Vv Y . WY, f Ww f= ZS” s"\ “we Fe, ~ me EN a4 y QO NEU aS OP Y “Sy e Let horn-works (A, B, C, D, E,) be thrown out at Chelsea Hospital, Peckham New Town, Upper Clapton, Highbury Barn, and Primrose Hill, with a g/acis and covered way at the re-entering angles of the counterscarp, and demilunes at right angles to the /unettes, This gives us our exceinte, within which the enemy would be confined if they once pene our cutworks, and from which we might play upon them with atteries ex barbette at the old Bun House, Jack Straw’s Castle, Hicks’s Hall, and Chalk Farm, throwing a cross fire right round the line of Post Delivery, of which the only difficulty would be for the troops to avoid hitting each other. Within this line we would throw out a strong bastion, ex ¢enaille, to command the Dover Road, say in Surrey Square, to be worked by the respectable inhabitants of that neighbourhood; and a ¢ée-du-pont to defend the passage of the Surrey Canal, which might be manned by the lightermen, formed into a corps of lighter-bobs for that service. Their fire would infallibly confuse an enemy, especially if they were allowed to slang as well as shoot them. The Bridges must, of course, be secured by redoubts, with glacis on the exterior face, so as to make it impossible for the enemy to breach the bastion by firing along the ditch of the vavelin. Their heavy guns would thus be comparatively useless, and if a tenatllon could be thrown up to mask the foot of the escarpe revétement, but few of them would probably return to tell the tale. At the same

made, to throw up a éerre-plein with breastworks on the exterior of the which would be an unnecessary exposure of the flanks of the dastion, and might probably cause the exceinte to be breached at the first crowning of the g/acis ; a contingency, we need hardly say, which could not fail to have the most deplorable consequences. If this plan be followed out in strict detail, we may sleep comfort- ably in our beds, which it is the duty of every Englishman to resist doing while our capital is left in its present shamefully naked state. A Solemn Farce. Tne directions for confirming a Bishop bear a very close resemblance to the received recipe for dressing a cucumber. “Slice it,” says CHESTERFIELD ; “ sprinkle with pepper,’salt, oil, and vinegar. When the dressing is to your taste, take your cucumber and —— throw it out of the window.” So with the Bow-Church ceremonial. “ Catch your | bishop, read his petition, call upon all persons who have grounds of opposition to come forward and oppose, and when they come forward — declare you can’t hear them.”

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' a week, while Punch was as regularly stolen as it was posted.”— Times, Jan. 10. | | 32 PUNCH, OR- THE LONDON CHARIVARI The crickets chirrup on the hearth, The slow clock ticking—and the sound Of rain upon the gravel path That hems the Exile’s cottage round ; All these, but most of all the power THE EXILED LONDONER. “Srxce I have been at this place I have lost as many as three copies of The Times in _— Wiru black exaui the Exile sits Of sleep af : la. . : ’ )f sleep after an anxious day, (J) / Watchiog the cmm-Grope a - Up-ctaies had ey him away. ss é - 3 — e paced his chamber for an hour, mae fe a aoe poy) wap Then said he, “ This indeed is dreary, } ion aall € peach on the gar- : My Times, my Punch,” he said, No Zimes nor Punch, ’tis very wines zee Sony tee he strange ; Unlifted is the iron latch ; Of papers he’s without the batch ; That gives his days their only P change. : At first he oy A said, “Oh deary ! The post is late,” he said ; ** Of waiting I am rather weary, I would my Punch 1’d read.” About the middle of the day The postman’s form its shadow cast, The door he sought with foot- steps gay, The 7imes and Punch are here \ at last. a 1 (—% Mh Out with them; but’tis very strange, he envelope is open torn— *Tis but the Hera/d of the morn; His paper they have dared to change. He only said, “The Herald’s dreary, Dreary indeed,” he said ; “Its very look has made me weary; It never can be read.” \) | Upon some stones—a hillock small, he Londoner in exile leapt, And over objects large and small A telescopic watch he kept ; He saw the postman walk away, He gazed till it was nearly dark, Then only made this sad remark, “Nor Times nor Punch will come to-day.” He only said “‘’Tis very dreary hey do not come,” he said ; “While I for want of them am weary, They ’re elsewhere being read.” THE MODEL MAID-OF-ALL-WORK. Her age is 14. Her arms are bare, and her feet slipshod. Her curls are rarely out of paper. She sports a clean apron on the Sunday, about tea-time. It is a mystery where she sleeps; some say the kitchen, in one of the large drawers; and others declare she has a turn-up bed in the hall-clock ; but it is not known for positive whether she ever goes to bed at all. She has a wonderful affection for the cat. Everything that is missed, or lost, or broken, or not eaten, she gives unhesitatingly to him. She is not fond of the drawing-room, but has a good-natured partiality for the garret, who sings funny songs, and gives her occa- sionally an order for the play. She takes her dinner whilst washing the dishes, and never gets her breakfast till all the floors have done with And even when the moon was low, And the shrill winds a game did play, the one teapot. She tries very hard to answer five bells at once, and in Blowing the sign-boards to and fro, despair answers none. She always forgets the mustard, and prefers As if ’twould blow them right away ; blowing the fire with her mouth instead of the bellows. Her hands will 4 He’d with the spider, as it climbs, | not bear minute inspection ; and no wonder, for she is cleaning boots, or Ty Hold converse — asking if | washing, or cooking dinners, all day long. She carries coals in a dust- *twould tell pan, hands bread on a fork, and wipes plates with her apron. She is Whether the postman dared to | abused by everybody, and never gets a holiday. She only knows it is se .. | Sunday by the lodgers stopping in bed later than usual, and having The weekly Punch and daily | twice as many dinners to cook. She is never allowed to go out, except- He only said, “ ’Tis very dreary, | and listens to jokes without a smile. She gets £6 a year, and is ex- “Of life I’m almost getting weary, lis not_known what becomes of the Model Maid-of-all-work in her old My Zimes and Punch unread.” | age. It is believed, however, that she sinks into the charwoman at the a age of 20. Landladies, be gentle to her! All day within the dreamy house His shoes had in the passage Or from the kitchen peer’d about, | stage, but in the palace. He is not the artist who wears motley To hear his footsteps tread the | have only to repeat a statement that “when the news of the QUEEN oF floors 'Spary’s ill-health reached Lovuts-Puitirre, he appeared profoundly With the short, hurried pace of | affected.” Were Garrick alive, could he beat ¢hat 7 oubdt. ee ——— — ——— She only said, “ My master’s weary, 1 « , ”? id: And angry too, she said ? | Evans. cf No. 7, Church Row, Stoke Newington, both in the County of Middlesex, Priaters, at She said, tee Oh deary me ! oh deary ! their Office in Lombard Stret,in the Precinct of Whitefriars, in the City of Lordon, and Pub. I ist | , ] t b d ” lished by them, at No. 85, Fleet Street, in the Parish of St. Bride, ia the City of London.— wish he ad go to dead, Sarurpay, Janvagy 22nd, 1848. creak’d ; ; ~ The maid-of-ail-work, like a| mouse, The Finest Actor in Europe. Out of her master’s presence | , , sneak’d, | Ip we want consummate acting, we must not now expect it upon the | Times. | ing to fetch beer or tobacco. She hears complaints without a murmur, | Dreary indeed,” he said ; [any to wait on about 20 persons, to do the work of five servants, to | ove all the children in the house, and to be honest for the money. It | Or listen’d at the open doors, | and a wig, but robes and a crown. As an instance of this fact, we | | Printed by William Bradbury. of No. 6, York Place, Stoke Newingt, and Frederick Mullett |

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. OUR BARRY-E UX TAPESTRY. To Cuantes Barry, Esq., R.A. Srr,—Allow me to_offer you a contribution to the decoration of the House of Lords. It is a series of designs for Tapestry, commemo- rating the invasion which is to come off —_ The designs are my own. The tapestry will be worked by the fair hands of Jupy and our daughter. It will be strictly in character with the building, “ bran- new and intensely old.” It is also, like the building, a copy, in general character, if not in detail. My original is the well-known Bayeux Tapestry, which commemorates the first French invasion of these islands, under William the Conqueror. As you have raised a middle-age build- ing for modern senators, with middle-age decorations for modern debates, and middle-age characters for modern inscriptions, I beg to offer my middle-age representation of a modern event—if that may be called modern which is yet in the bosom of the future. I send with the designs a poem in old spelling, to be printed in black-letter, de- scribing, as they described in the twelfth century, circumstances antici- pated in the nineteenth. I trust my designs and my verses will be found in strict harmony with your noble modern-antique Houses of Parliament, and beg leave to subessibee myself, Your servant and admirer, De FORAVYE OF THE FRENCHE, FROM ThE VERIDICAL AND RIGHTS PLEASAGATE CHROARICLG OF MAITKE puncne. GREATE*BRYTYNE- THIS.1S.YE.PRYNCE.DEJOINVILLE - he ae HERE: © FRENCHE: ARE SEEME-GROSSYN GE-Ye-BRYTYSHE: CHANNELE: 3 I trow ’twere sore to telle | What sorrowes there befelle, When from Boulogne, Cherbourg, Havre, With musquet armed and sabre, Defying rolle and SUNDAY BALLS. Tne Duke’s Invasion Letter has been a great relief to thousands. And after this fashion. Almost every man carries about with him some absurdity, which awaits but the proper moment to be uttered, and so, for a time at least, to relieve the bearer. The world has its periods of madness and of foliy. Oldas it is, it runs round and round its circle of whims and diseases. Now it has—or thinks it has—so much money in its pockets, that it cannot spend it fast enough: and now, with wealth inexhaustible it believes itself within an inch of an Universal Union. Folks who feared an invasion, authorised by Lorp EttesMERE and his Grace, have said their say; have contributed their quota of absurdity; and, satisfied with the effort, may now rest content for life. Not that we think quite enough has been done with the Invasion Fever. We are certainly surprised—seeing what a nostrum-loving people we are—that no new Morrison has arisen, with a specific against fear of the French. We think an Invasion Pill would have gone down. Of course, the consumption would have varied with different places ; folks on the sea-shore requiring a double dose compared with those more and more inland. If, however, we are not to have Pills, we are at least offered Balls— Sunday Balls—as the only preventive of the French in England. A lively correspondent in the Chronicle suggests that the great mass of the people should be divided off into shooting companies, and that they should “train and ee on a Sunday.” Gunpowder would have a more precious smell on the seventh day : “Exercising grounds should be prepared in the environs of railways, and the com- panies should carry the National Guard gratuitously to and from their destination. The Ye broode of Gallic cocke, Across y® Channele sailing With retching and with railing, | On Albion’y*{perfidious rocke, | | Up to all by lande or water, From pitch-and-tosse unto manslaughter. men, carried gratuitously, would probably pay for the passage of wife and family, and | all would get fresh air.” The smell of hawthorn and gunpowder—the shooting of rifles and | corn! A very pretty association of the productive and destructive. And then the children would be so early accustomed to military matters, that they would be able to stand fire before they quitted the breast ; and when they cut their teeth, instead of a coral, would cut. them on ball-cartridge. i We think, too, the spirit would spread among the wives. After a little while, we should expect a very large Amazonian force. The Cri- noline Rangers, the Boa Rifles, the Manchester Ginghams, the Dunstable Straws, the Queen’s Blue-Stockings, would sound quite as well as the Connaughts, the Coldstreams, and the Buffs. ; Again, how beautifully would women blend the domestic and maternal delights of life with these martial doings! For when the shooting was over, how delightful it would be for the husbands and sweethearts to form into a hollow square, whilst the women inside made tea. And even before, whilst the mother practised at the bull’s-eye, the babe— early educated—might suck it. We ask it, is not this the way to keep up the patriotic spirit? Sunday Balls for men and women, and brandy- balls for children. THE BISHOP OF TUAM, Certatn of the Irish have expressed their “delight and gratitude” to Docror M‘Hate “ for the contempt” with which he has treated the Ear or SHrewspury’s letter. It was an easy matter for the Doctor. A ~' who has received so much of a commodity, may surely spare a little. | VOL. XIV. E Puncn. = Came down with onslaughte hideous,

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-—. BRYTYSHE COASTE nen = Foe ~~ . a 7 ] ag — — i a » | —s / i - ! —_ | ieee R \ ~~) KD. I = ; ] / Re 7 LORDE-WARDEN-OF-E wi} CINDVE-PORTES: 7 >> \ why, 2, ~{ PRYNCE: DE-JOYN VILLE » la ae ¢ a = 1 Cen en ease ZA TS Re I | i\ LOOKE-OVTE To sing of S/yx and Gomer, Of Belle Poule and Comte_d’ Eu, Needs were y* tongue of Homsr ° / | | And manie more thereto ; Of sailing ships and steamers, Gallic cockes upon their streamers, That against y* rosdi/s mustered, Got up their steame and blustered, And took on boarde’bataillon © ** Des Francais des plus vaillans ;” Not fedde on beefe and porter As y® baser Englishe sort are, NEW DRAMATIC SCHOOL. Tue decline of the old school of actors and actresses has long been a subject of the most dismal lamentation; but we are glad to find that the histrionic art still stands a chance of preservation, by the establish- ment of a new school, under the able direction of Mrs. Grover, who is one of the few remaining members of the old school, and one of its | brightest ornaments. If all the performers of the old school resembled Mrs. Gover, we might indeed regret having so few of them left, and we ought to be exceedingly obliged to her, at any rate, for taking the trouble to give the rising generation the benefit of her tuition. We believe a great deal of the dramatic art may be taught, and we have therefore some hopes from the school which Mrs. GLover and her son are on the point of establishing. We presume there will be professors for every department, from the highest tragic to the lowest comic; and there will of course be classes for the examination of the students. We can imagine Mr. Dippear at the head of an entire form of Injured Husbands, all denouncing, in turn, some imaginary “ span- gled officer”? who has dazzled the eyes of a weak-minded wife; and we can conceive a ponderous professor of the heavy business with a whole row of Indignant Fathers before him, repeating, in guttural chorus, some tremendous curse on a series of Undutiful_ Daughters, or cutting off a batch of Scapegrace Sons with a corresponding number of shillings. But the Soubrette Class brings us to the contemplation of a more pleasing set of objects. We can picture to ourselves the professor of ** Pert Chambermaidism,” inculcating among a row of female candidates for histrionic fame those engaging qualities of domestic impudence which are so common on the stage, and happily so rare in real life. A set of examination-papers should, of course, be prepared to prove the efliciency of the various pupils; and directions should be framed for wheedling Old Guardians, extracting bribes from Young Lovers, and coquetting with roguish valets—three achievements which go to the formation of the character of the Stage Ladies’ Maid. The Practical Joke department would require the utmost attention, for modern farces are chiefly written with a view to those effects that In the present day the Clown and the Comedian must be combined ; for a funny man whose limbs are not sufficiently supple to allow of his being doubled up in a bagatelle-board, or stowed away in acellaret, with his legs and arms occupying the holes usually assigned to the decanters, cannot hope to be considered a funny man at all. We must suppose that the Dramatic School will commence with first principles in this difficult department, and revert to the old original style of practical joking, which has been improved upon to the most wondrous extent by our farce writers, until the once popular prank of hiding under a table and upsetting it on discovery, has become commonplace in the extreme. A necessity, however, for learning the elements of the art will render this sort of thing desirable for young beginners, until they are gradually educated into the more difficult accomplishments of creeping into clock-cases, jumping into picture-frames to be mistaken for portraits, and giving other touches of dramatic nature, which make the whole world grin. : , We hope that a class of Walking Gentlemen will not be forgotten in the new establishment, for the purpose of instructing lisping youths in the amiable art of apostrophising with propriety their “ Dearetht Exitua, the thweeteth contholation of their thuffermg thpiriths.” The Nelson Monument. TuERE has been a report lately that the bronze panels intended to ornament the base of the Nelson Column were complete, but it turns out that the report is as baseless as the fabric itself, and that both the one and the other are likely to remain without foundation. The artists cannot get their designs further than the clay, and they are all —~ in the mud in the most unsatisfactory manner. We are only afrai that new subjects for the panels will be required; for it is probable that, long before they are completed, the world will have forgotten the events once used to be considered the legitimate property of mere pantomime. they were intended to commemorate.

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ee PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL. A DVAN CES. IPON:-YE>CA a = ITOLE » BYE-AN- EARLYE-TRA\NE = fee A> ep SP YERVSTICS-AND -DOMESTICK-A NIMALES DO EXPRESSE - ASTONISHMENTE- 2 But on veg’ tables and oz veale, And headed by brave JoInvILLE; Then they floated forthe ferocious. But their valour proved precocious ; Righte boist’rous waxed y* ocean, Which, calme as first they started, | For as they gotte in motion, Grew more rough when tiey departed : TRAVELS ’ Twas clearlic’a deception Of Albion’s allie, NEPTUNE, Who, anxious for y* British, Sent of Nereides y* most skittish, IN LONDON. A NIGHT'S PLEASURE. N the conclusion of the Pantomime, the present memorialist had the honour to conduct the ladies under his charge to the portico of the theatre, where the green fly was in waiting to receive them. ‘The driver was not more inebriated than usual ; the young page with the gold- knobbed hat was there to protect his mistresses ; sabth though the chaperon of the party certainly invited me to return with them to Brompton and there drink tea, the proposal was made in terms so faint, and_ the re- freshment offered was so moderate, that I declined to journey six miles ona cold night in order to partake of such a meal. ‘he waterman of the coach-stand, who had made himself conspicuous by bawling out for Mrs. Fiatuer’s carriage, was importunate with me to give ‘him six- pence for pushing the ladies into the vehicle. But it was my opinion that Mrs. Fiater ought to settle that demand; and as, while the fellow was urging. it, she only pulled up the glass, bidding Cox’s man to drive on, L of course did not interfere. In vulgar and immoral language he indicated, as usual, his discontent. I treated the fellow with playful and, I hope, gentlemanlike satire. MAaAsTER JONES, who would not leave the box in the theatre until the people came to shroud it with brown-hollands, (by the way, to be the last person in a theatre—to put out the last light—and then to find one’s way out of the vast black lonely place, must require a very courageous heart)—Master Jones, I say, had previously taken leave ot us, putting his arm under that of his father’s footman, who had been in the pit, and who conducted him to Russell Square. I heard Avcustus propos- ing to have oysters as they went home, though he had twice in the course of the performancemade excursions to the eake-room of the theatre, where he had partaken of oranges, macaroons, apples, and ginger-bcer. As the altercation between myself and the linkman was going on, young Grice (brother of Grice of the Life-Guards, himself reading for the Bar) came up, and hooking . arm into mine, desired the man to leave off “chaffing” me; asked him if he would take a bill at three months for the money ; told him if he would call at the Horns Tavern, Kennington, next 'T uesday week, he would find sixpence there, done up for him in a brown paper parcel ; and quite wees my opponent, 7. know you, Mr. Gricc,” said he; ‘‘you’re a gentleman, you are :” so retired, leaving the vietory with me. Young Mr. Grice is one of those young bucks about town, who goes every night of his life to two Theatres, to the Casino, to WEIPPrERT’s and balls, to the Café de Haymarket, to Bos StocceEr’s, the boxing- | house, to the Harmonic Meetings at the Kidney Cellars, and other places of fashionable resort. He knows eve rg at these haunts of | pl easure; takes boxes for the actors’ benefits; has the word from | e ad- quarters about the venue of the fight between Putney Sambo and the Tutbury Pet; gets up little dinners at their public-houses ; shoots |

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3 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL. ADVANG £0 Ye TROOPES-AND [oODlE-Doces. -MISHAPS-ONYE WOODE-PAVEMENTE « ~~? Gi CAST At) ip. 3 P afl . f om, ike ~ KUL fey iS —s Ly, \ i “is | FENCHE ENTERAEMETROPOLY2 ATONE END Y° GVARDES MARCHEOVT-ATYEOTHER END. _| To raise ane awfulle shindie | Of wilde waves and breezes windie ; Nor were Albion’s chalke cliffs paler | Than eache will-he nill-he sailor Of that bolde and brilliant bande, When he hove in sighte of lande, pigeons, fights cocks, plays fives, has a boat on the river, and a room at RuMMER’s in Conduit Street, besides his Chambers at the Temple, where his parents, Srr Joun and Lapy Grice of Portman Square, and Grigsby Hall, Yorkshire, believe that he is assiduously occupied in studying the Law. “ Tom applies too much,” her ladyship says. “‘ His father was obliged to remove him from Cambridge on account fof a brain fever brought on by hard reading, and in consequence of the jealousy of some of the collegians; otherwise, I am told, he must have een Senior Wrangler, and seated first of the Tripod.” “T’m going to begin the evening,” said this ingenuous young fellow; “T’ve only been at the Lowther Arcade, Weiprert’s hop, and the billiard-rooms. I just toddled in for half an hour to see Brooke in Othello, and looked in for a few minutes behind the scenes at the Adelphi. What shall be the next resort of pleasure, Spec, my elderly juvenile? Shall it be the Sherry-Cobbler-Stall, or the Cave of Har- mony } There ’s some prime glee-singing there.” “What ! is the old Cave of Harmony still extant?” I asked. “I have not been there these twenty years.’ And memory carried me back to the days when LicutsmpEs, of Corpus, myself, and little Oaks, the Johnian, came up to town in a chaise-and-four, at the long vacation at the end of our freshman’s year, ordered turtle and venison for dinner at the Bedford, blubbered over Black-eyed Susan at the play, and then finished the evening at that very Harmonic Cave, where the famous English Improvisatore sang with such prodigious talent that we asked him down to stay with us in the country. SpuRGIn, and Hawker, the fellow-commoner of our College, I remember me, were at the Cave too, and Barpo.rn, of Brazennose. Lord, lord, what a battle and struggle and wear and tear of life there has been since then! Hawker levanted, and Spurcin is dead these ten years ; little Oaks isa whiskered Captain of Heavy Dragoons, who cut down no end of Sikhs at Sobraon; Licutsrpgs a Tractarian parson, who turns his head and walks another way when we meet; and your humble servant—well never mind. But in my spirit I saw them—all those blooming and ovial young boys—and Licutsipes, with a cigar in his face, and a ang-up white coat covered with mother-of-pearl cheese-plates, bellowing out for “ First and Second Turn-out,” as our yellow post-chaise came rattling up to the Inn door at Ware. “‘ And so the Cave of Harmony is open,” I said, looking at little Grice with a ped and tender interest, and feeling that I was about a hundred years old. “I believe you, my baw-aw-oy!” said he, adopting the tone of an ex- ceedingly refined and popular actor, whose choral and comic powers render him a general favourite. P. Does Brvins keep it ?” I asked, in a voice of profound melancholy. Hoh! What a flat you are! You might as well ask if Mrs. Sip- pons acted Lady Macbeth to-night, and if QuzzN AnnE’s dead or not. And lande hove in sighte of him, Thro’ the fogge, soe dense and dim, That wrappes London all y* year, As in French bookes doth appear. *T was in vaine y* Prince he reason’d, To sea-sicknesse being season’d ; Y* more he cheer’d his crewe, Y* sicker still thei grewe ; | Till, pale enoughe to frighten Y° inhabitants of Brighton, They landed safe in Shoreham, And y® people fledde before ’em ! | I tell you what, Spec, my boy—you’re getting a regular old flat—fogy, | Sir, a positive old fogy. How the deuce do you pretend to be a man | about town, and not know that Brvrys has left the Cavern? Law bless | you! Come inand see: I know the landlord—I’ll introduce you to him.” |" ‘This was an offer which no man could resist; and so Grice and I | went through the Piazza, and down the re of that well-remembered place of conviviality. GricG knew everybody; wagged his head in at the bar, and called for two glasses of his particular mixture ; nodded to | the singers; winked at one friend—put his little stick against his nose as a token of recognition to another; and calling the waiter by his | Christian name, poked him playfully with the end of his cane, and asked | him whether he, Grige, should have a lobster kidney, or a mashed oyster and scolloped ’taters, or a poached rabbit, for supper ? The room was full of young rakish-looking lads, with a dubious sprink- ling of us middle-aged youth, and stalwart red-faced fellows from the country, with whiskey noggins before them, and bent upon seeing life. A grand piano had been introduced into the apartment, which did not exist in the old days: otherwise, all was as of yore—smoke rising from scores of human chimnies, waiters bustling about with cigars and liquors in the intervals of the melody—and the President of the meeting, (Brvins no more) encouraging gents to give their orders. Just as the music was about to begin, I looked cxgesite me, and there, by Heavens! ‘sate Barpoipu, of Brazennose, only a little more purple, and a few shades more dingy than he used to look — years ago. PEC, The Time for Poaching. A CorrEsponDENt of the Zimes states that night poachers, by order of the Home Secretary, are now to be tried at the assizes ; and he asks why the rule should not extend to day poachers as well? As the latter | class of offenders are under the jurisdiction of county magistrates, who part, would rather poach by night than by day. “A shiny night,” now more than ever, will be the “delight” of the poacher, as affording him the best opportunity] for depredation, with the smallest risk of punishment, —————+—_——_——_- A PATRIOTIC RETURN, Tue first motion of the new Session will he one by Mr. Joseru Home, who will move for a return of gli the plate which has been stolen | from his residence. We hope the return will soon be made, and that | every bit of the plate will be ordered at the earliest opportunity—say his | birth-day, which is the most appropriate period to wish a person |many happy returns—to lie upon his dinner-table. This return is but |due to Mz. Hume, who has shone, in public, as in private, by so many | brilliant services. | are at once prosecutors, judges, and jurors, we certainly, for our own |

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§ PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 37 Hee TOBIAS IS AFTER JOIN VILLE. | THEY-BESYEGE+Y-OFFYCE: obMISTER-PVNCH IN FLEETE StRETE. YEPARLEYVOVS. AND-EFFYQEOF FM Ye DV KE Ye PRVWCEs ADMYRAL E- ¥e FRENCHE GOE BY CO LONDON. TueEN at y* railwaie station Y* Prince made proclamation, That eache engineere or stoker Should instantlie be broke, or Blown uppe, who tooke occasion Of y* gallante Frenche invasion, SUNDAY AT EXETER HALL. Tue following is from a notice in the Post, of a concert held a few days since at Exeter Hall :— **It is stated that some of the Committee objected to Mr. Gencr’s singing Carxy’s favourite ballad, ‘ Sally in our Alley,’ at Mx. Smiru’s concert the other evening, owing to an allusion to Sunday in the words; whereas PuILLips was allowed to sing a demo- niacal song from The Mountain Sylph.” “Some” of the Committee deserve the thanks, at least—the more so, as the most easily bestowed—of all the very pious who use Exeter Hall. Sunday is not, even by allusion, to be set to music. People, to be sure, in churches and chapels, sing ox Sundays ; but then it is solemn minstrelsy: whilst even to allude to the seventh day in a ballad, is to break it. Thus, in a song, the best observance of the Sabbath is to take no notice of it. All our readers, however, may not know the extent of their obligations to some (“the perfect chrysolites!”) of the i they may be ignorant of the demoralising tendency of the allusion to the Sunday aforenamed. In the days of our youth, our memory was un- happily tainted with the wicked syllables, and “* The scent of the brimstone will hang round it still.” The words are, if we mistake not— ** Of all the days that’s in the week, There ’s none I love like one day; And that ’s the day that comes between The Saturday and Monday.” The sly and subtle meaning of the singer will, on a little consideration, e made plain to the least pious understanding. The balladist (forlorn creature!) evidently means the intervening day to be no other than the Sabbath. And why (we think we hear a MackwortH or an AGNEW in sectarian thunder roll the query)—why does he love the Sabbath ? Let the doomed wretch answer for himself— *¢ For then I’m drest all in my best, To take a walk with SALLy; She is the darling of my heart, And she lives in our alley.” Let us consider the quantity of sin that—like poison mantling an egg- cup—overbrims this little verse. Human vanity and human perdition are init. The worldly conceit of dress rises in the heart of the sinner. He thinks, as of the fleshpots of Egypt, as of the vanities of Babylon, of “his best ”’—it may be his best blue coat, with those gauds of a carnal- minded world, brass buttons. What will he think of when he is about to descend into his grave? Will the best blue Saxony be any comfort to him in his shroud? Will the brass buttons delight him when under For refusing toe abide By Bradshaw his Railwaie Guide. An expresse was in y* yarde, By which y° brave vanguard Got commande at once to runne down For a coup-de-main on Londone ; Committee, inasmuch as | Thro’ y* electrick telegraph, Y® capital, announcing “That y° French threats were alle bouncing;” “That y® muster was a hum, While a corporal’s guarde did chaffe, | | And they ’d never dare to come.” —— a coftin-plate? These—and many more such as these—are questions that “some of the Committee” would instantly put to the forlorn singer thinking of Sunday, because on that day he is to appear “all in his best!” But let us, if. we have strength, anatomise the whole of the ulcerous iniquity. |. The lost sheep is drest all in his best; his blue coat, bluer than burning sulphur—and his beaver hat, black and sleek as Satan! And what does he, when thus equipped for sin and death? Why, treading the broad way, he sets ori ** To take a walk with Sauty,’’ And where do they walk to? Why, at the very words, we smell tea and | bread-and-butter ; haply, shrimps; with—it is not unlikely—the sup- plementary abominations of biscuits and ale! It is impossible for us to | forget—we cannot, if we would (saith the white-robed purity of Exeter | Hall), deny that there are such places as Bagnigge Wells; as the Eel- |pie House; as Cremorne Gardens! No; we will not hoodwink our nowledge, and be blind tothese stumbling Christians,!whose human souls are bartered for tea and shrimps and pots of porter. Well, where does the straying sheep, in his best fleece, go with Sa.xy, (forlorn little lamb ! our heart bleeds for thee)—where does he goto? Why, we see them both seated in that arbour of holly and privet; there they both are, taking tea together; or it may be, the tea 1s over, and SALLy, with car- nation blushes in her face, and her little mouth making believe to bite round the edge of a biscuit, is almost sure—though her heart thumps so she can hardly be certain of it—that the man “in his best” is holding out the temptation of furniture for two parlours or a third floor, and further requesting to be permitted, without further shilly- shally, to put up the banns ! k Some of the Fxeter Hall Committee see and hear all this in the notes of “ Sally in our Alley,’ and, very properly, will not allow them to be breathed into the ears of a carnal and impulsive congregation ! Now, it is very different with ‘‘ademoniacal song from 7/e Mountain Sylph.” That song deepens, we believe, into a chorus; and the burden of the song, if we mistake not, is, “‘ Rejoice, ye demons of night!” Now we feel very certain that if such powers of darkness have their moments of enjoyment, they never rejoice with greater revelry than when common sense is beaten by bigotry, and Christian intelligence is displaced by cant. ‘‘BURON v. DENMAN.” Tr is said that Str Fitzroy Ketty will, on this approaching case, shew his devotion to poetry by often availing himself of “ Zhe Pleasures of Memory.”

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL BARYTISHE CHANNEL » MTOBIE.. M° PVNCH. _- {1 e! YR KX YAS — WN NCS HY =a wd Le FINS HERE YEFRENCHE ARE SEENE-LEAVINGE YECOVWTRIE IN HASTE | Then straighte y* armie started ; JOINVILLE, y* lion-hearted, Standing over y* false stoker, Armed with an engine poker, Readie at once to kille him | If he tried to smashe or spille ’em. ae, Been to tue Pray mucn Turse Hortways, Frev?” © Aw—I went THe oTuer Nigut. But, aw—I pon’r KNow—somEHOw PaNTOMIMFS ARE NOT WHAT THEY USED TO BE IN MY TIME 3 AND AS FOR THE GokLs, THERE WASN’T A GOOD-LOOKING ONE IN THE Hovse.”’ New Patent.—Interesting to “ Silk Gowns.” A VERY curious and perfect invention has recently been patented by the Admiralty. Its object is to obliterate from the memory all or any facts that may have been sedulously stored up within it for three years and more, leaving the mind, with relation to such facts, a pure sheet o law-paper. It may then take register of facts of a contrary tendency, to be used against the forgotten memoranda. ‘The invention has been tried upon a distinguished gentleman, it is said, with perfect success: | a success that will be made triumphantly manifest in the forthcoming | trial, “ Buron 0, Denman.” i And as y° armie past, Y¢ sheepe and cows, aghaste, Stared over }* embankmente, As wondering whatte each ranke meant ; And y* rusticks, in amazemente, Looked on from cottage casemente, Or paused at spade and ploughe, With a “ Dang it, what’s uppe now ?” Such was y® consternation Caused by y* Frenche invasion, Till they reached, withe exultation, Y* London Bridge, its station. LOOKING-GLASSES FOR BIRDS. “Mr. Poncn, “ Berne descended in a right flight from the Tom-tit of sor, I inherit the like faculties possessed by my immortal ancestor. ‘I'hus I am frequently called upon to take, from the top of a house, a bird’s- eye view of Punch lying in the opposite bookseller’s window, and, to the delight and improvement of my feathered friends, to chirp a translation of its admirable contents. I can assure you, Mr. Punch, that the sparrows living in the volutes and cornices of Apsley-House have been mightily pleased with your various remarks upon the French Invasion; and, tickled by their fun, have chirped and chirped the matter over, even to the disturbance of his Grace, time out of mind an earlyriser. All | this, however, by the way. My present purpose is to reply to a very | foolish paragraph—taken from the Gardeners’ Chronicle—about ‘looking- glasses for birds.’ The writer says— | ‘The tom-tits attacked my Sechel pears, to which they seemed very partial; a bit | of looking-glass suspended in front of the tree, put a stop to the mischief. My grapes | were next much damaged before they were ripe, by thrushes and starlings; a piece of looking-glass drove these away, and not a grape was touched afterwards.’ | | Good Mr. Punch, don’t believe a word of it. The male birds are, | it is true, made shy by the glass; but where the mirror scares away | one male, it attracts at least twenty hens. I do assure you, Sir, if this | fashion becomes general, if people go on hanging looking-glass about | their fruit-trees, there will be a double calamity. In the first place, all | the fruit for the next season will be devoured by the hen-birds brought | to the trees by the mirrors ; and secondly, they will be so much occu- | pied looking at themselves, preening their feathers, and taking attitudes | and graces in the lookin 0 sem that their nests will be imperfectly | built, their eggs half-addled, and such young nestlings as are bred will | be shamefully neglected by their maternal parent. | “ Mr. Punch, man behaves very unfairly to us poor birds in this his | last device. We know that we are hatched to undergo the risk of | bird-lime, of net, and trap, and gun: this is our fate, and we submit to | it. Kill us, if you like, but do not deprave our manners. Shoot us, if | you can, but at least do not introduce into the commonwealth of birds that too-frequent disturber of the peace of human families, a looking- glass. *T remain, your Bird’s-cye Reader, * Cherry-Tree. Tom-Trt.” CREDIT AT OXFORD. Notiine can more strikingly prove the scandalous readiness with which credit is given at Oxford, than the fact that the Bisnor ov Oxrorp long got credit there for straightforwardness and sincerity.

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yi ‘ ae. eves? rid WZ SN A RECOLLECTION OF LANDSEER’S CELEBRATED PICTURE.

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41 WHAT WILL THE FRENCH DO WITH ALGERIA ? WE are puzzled to guess what the French will do with Algeria, now that AxBp-EL-KapER is taken. There are no more caves to smoke. There is not a tribe worth plundering. Morocco, too, is quiet. All conquests, therefore, are completely ors de combat, and there is not as much as a Razzia worth living for. Everything must be most intensely dull. We can imagine the whole army is in tears, for the want of something to do. Glory, in Africa, isdead. Peace to its ashes! We feel deeply, in this sad dearth of victories, for the Montieur. The poor Editor will have absolutely nothing left to exercise his vivid imagi- nation upon. He will have nothing to record now but the dry appoint- ment of Prefects, and nothing to solace himself with but the flowery ad- dresses of the Chambers to Louts-PuILiPre on his birth-day. ‘These latter | compositions are cer- ra 2 brilliant specimens | of colouring; but still they do not allow that inexhaustible scope for happy | invention which the Algerian campaigns invariably opened. It was so | easy to invent when there was no one to contradict. The Moniteur will | | | certainly have to go into mourning, and the bereaved Editor will be | reduced to sell his prolific pen for what it will fetch, to some brother | romancier. Perhaps Monsteur ALEXANDRE Dumas will buy it of him. We can conceive what thrilling romances such a pen, in the hands of such a genius, would achieve ! We think candidly, that the French were great fools in taking Anp- EL-KaDEk, and we do not mind telling them so. As long as he was at liberty, they had something to fight for, and something to brag about. The Chambers paid their millions for the army willingly, so long as Guizor could prove to them that the annals of France were being enriched at the handsome rate of some twenty victories every year. The French do not. mind how dearly they pay for their glory, but they do not like lavishing their money in ship-loads, and not receiving wz sou de gloire in return for it. Besides, the little promenades over the mountains and back again, in search of an invisible enemy, made the Royal Princes very popular, and filled Versailles with grand pictures, half a mile long, consisting one half of smoke, and the other half of red breeches. ABD-EL-KapER served another purpose very effectively. Every mauvais sujet was sent out of France to improve bis morals in , Africa. It was a nursery for future TURENNEs, a large play-ground for the more riotous part of the army, and a great French penitentiary, where all noisy republicans, and discontented patriots, and ambitious Gererals, were confined till they died of fever, or a musket-ball, or learnt to appreciate the very paternal sway of Louis-Puitiprr. But now that ABp-EL-KApeEr is carried away, the play-ground will have lost its principal attraction, and the juvenile TuRENNEs will not be able to play even at a game of prisoner’s base. However, the capture of the Arab Chief has proved one thing. It has convinced sceptics, and we were one of the number, that ABp-BL-KaDER is at least a real person—that he is not the Mrs. Harris of France, which we always took him to be— that he is not the fabulous Jucurrua, who, it was unanimously believed, was only born to be killed by the French army once a week. We look upon the fact of his existence as the greatest discovery of the present year. _ But, what will the French do with Algeria? It is useless our repeat- ing this curious question; for we confess we cannot answer it. Our | belief is that the French, before long, will find out their grievous mis | take, and that they will take App-r1-Kaper back again to Africa, and | allow him to escape, to enable them to commence a new course of victories. The French army, it is well known, cannot exist without fighting ; the throne of Lovis-Putzirrg, it is equally well known, runs the agreeable risk of being exposed to as many storms as a beacon on the Goodwin Sands, and of lasting about as long, unless it has a new sediment annually of glory to rest upon; and pray, how is the history of France to be written unless there is a victory in every page? Our British word for it, in less than six months ABD-EL-Kaper will be in Algeria again. It will be either that, or else an invasion of England ; but we advise our readers to make their bets in preference upon the former certainty. How happy the Montteur would be with either ! A Bellow by Hohn Bull. IN THE PROSPECT OF ADDITIONAL TAXATION. Tue able-bodied Hercutes, that man of might and pith, According to the story, which your scholars call a myth, Supporting on his shoulders broad, the burden of the sky, Saved it from falling, and the larks from being caught thereby. But what is Mr. Hercues to me, I want to know? See what a weight I carry on my shoulders as I go! Just let me ask you where you think friend Hercutes would be If you saddled him with taxes in the way you ’ve saddled me ? For every article almost I have of use or beauty, In one shape or another, I’ve to pay a thumping duty ; For nearly every single thing I eat, or drink, or wear— ; They’ ve tax’d my light, and soon perhaps they mean to tax my air. The Property and Income Tax, when Parliament had pass’d, Come now, thinks I, I know the worst ; sure here ’s an end at last. Ah! no such luck! another load they mean to clap on me : I wonder what, in goodness’ name, my next tax is to be. IT look around, and I declare, as I’m a sinner, that There ’s nothing I can see untax’d about me but my cat. I’m quite cleaned out, used wholly up, done—brown as any toast : Drat it! you can’t, do what you will, get blood out of a post. Well, lay it on, good gentlemen; but only have a care: There is a load that’s greater than the strongest man can bear. Already I imagine I can hear my sinews crack ; And ’tis the last ounce, recollect, that breaks the donkey’s back. ‘COUNTRY QUARTERS. ' A crant of £30,000 for a Pinery at Kew has suggested to our minds the propriety of making some allow- ance for the establishment of a hot- house during this cold weather for the reception of some curious plants of British growth, to whom such an asylum would prove very acceptable. The Pine is ladide, no doubt; but there are other productions of an English soil that may be said to be literally pining for want of some place in which their preservation can ao attended to. The agricultural labourer, for instance, would greatly profit by having a nice warm bed provided for him at the public ex- pense, like his rivals the Pines ; and while the parent stem would be thus preserved and strengthened, the junior branches would shoot forth with additional regularity and vigour. We hope our idea will not be lost sight of, and that the Pines at Kew will not be regarded as the only worthy objects of liberality ; for, sup- posing £30,000 to give us 30,000 pines in we should like some arithmetician to tell us could be supported for the same money. one year, at a pound per pine, ow many human beings AMERICAN MEDALS. Generat Scort is to have a medal stamped to his victories, “in gold.” Having read the stupid praise in which the resolution is couched, we think the fitter material for the medal would be—butter. We already have the Order of St. Patrick; let the Americans, for cheapness and propriety, use butter for their heroes, and call it “The Order of St. Put.”

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42 PUNCH, OR THE THE FRENCH AT BRIGHTON. Rs. Mary Gerxrys, Peri- winkle House, Marine Pa- rade, Brighton, presents her compliments, and— at this in minent time—begs of Mr. Punch a corner in his beau- tiful journal for her little letter. If Mrs. Mary Ger- KINs was in Parliament—as, indeed, women ought to be —she would not trouble Mr. P., but give the country a bit of her mind from her seat in the House. As it is, being a lone woman and a widow, she hopes she may be permitted to save her country through the news- papers. “ Periwinkle House, * Brighton, Jan. 25. Mr. Puncu, “THE more I look at the opposite coast of France (and I’ve a telescope for the first floor that, as, I may say, sweeps the Channel clean as a new pin) the more I’m certain of danger from our natural enemies. I sit spying at my window till, sometimes, I think I see no end of flat-bottomed boats at Dieppe, full of soldiers, and horses, and baggage- wagons. My girls, to comfort me, tell me it’s the clouds; but I only hope it isn’t the smoke of the enemy’s steamers. “My letter, I am proud to say it, has put the whole town in a twitter. Lodgings have dropt to nothing. First floors have come down to seconds, and there’s next to no difference between backs and | gente, In fact, the whole place is—A Town to Let, and Nobody to | ake it. “T am now happy to say that all the blame’s laid at my door. Yes; | Periwinkle House bears it all. When people abused me for my letter, | I cried a little at first; but it’s sweet to find what spirit persecution | puts into a body. It’s as good as another shawl to a woman! **Do you want te ruin Brighton, Ma’am—do you want to make it | another Pollmyra—another Thibs?’ said Mr. * * * * to me, of the Cire’lating Library. ‘People have sent home Now and Then, and 1| don’t know what, because they couldn’t get through ’em so near the | sea! Do you want to make the place a desert, Ma’am—a desert without | a single Oh Acis?’ “T said nothing. Only this. When the French Aad come, how he’d | thank me for that beautiful letter! As poor Gerxins used to say—| and now I believe him—‘If you want to serve your country, mind you can afford to pay for it. However, I have made up my mind to suffer, and nothing shall disappoint me. “Mr. Punch, now 1 know the truth of what Prorrssor Toap- INAHOLE said here, in his lecture ‘On the Vitality of Bluebottles,’ at the Old Ship. ‘Everybody,’ says he, ‘is born with a mission.’ At first, I thought ‘ mission’ was only a knowing name for a ‘caul.’ How- ever, at last I found it out. For, as the Professor said, folks have sometimes to wait to learn it. My mission is—to save Brighton! GerkKINs used to say 1’d a good deal of gunpowder in my veins; and now he’s gone, I don’t mind owning it. ‘Human nature,’ said the Professor, ‘is always the same.’ Well, we have had a Joan or ARC; which is all the stronger reason for having a Mary or Bricuton ! Nature isn’t like a tea-caddy, but keeps supplying herself. “And now, Mr. Punch, 1 have something to say that will make the very horsehair of the Horse-Guards stand on end. You know I told you that I had taken a many French lodgers. Well, Sir, there was the Comte DE Fitovu, PRINcE that, last autumn, lodged with me. ‘They went away, leaving a port- manteau to be sent for. As I’ve never heard of ’em since, and they | only gave Juxius half-a-crown among ’em, I haven’t hesitated to| open the luggage ; and a blessed thing it is 7did. For there, Mr. Punch —(I used to see ’em twiddling with compasses, and rules, and I don’t know what, on paper)—for there is the whole plan, drawn and coloured, of an attack upon this blessed Brighton. There isn’t an alley that isn’t down—not a court-yard that they don’t know every bit of. Not only, too, the plan of an attack, but of fortifying and keeping the place afterwards. “As the best luck would have it, Mr. Srretren, a playwriter, is lodging with me (two-pair front, it being the dull season) at this moment. I believe he has served in the army, for once I heard him say—‘ Nobody knew what in his time he had taken from the French.’ (He’s now doing an original play,—such a sweet thing !— | to be called, ‘ Js’¢ i¢ Particularly Odd that the Woman hasn’t Brought LONDON CHARIVARI. Curacoa, and others { don’t remember, | - Home the Linen ?’) Well, I showed the Frenchman’s papers to Mr. $., and he explained all the mischief to me. , X, K, C, Z, and other innocent-looking letters of the alphabet—mean no less than Bastions, and Redoubts, and Ravelings, and Horn-works, (that’s the very word) and Casemates, or Checkmates, and Crests of Glasses ! “T knew it; a certain cold shiver that I always have when mischief’s | coming, told me as much; the French know all about Brighton, and | have, at this moment, the addresses of all the best families, with what money every father can give his daughters, down in their Pocket-books. “TY don’t wish to alarm the townspeople; but I must perform my mission. The French wi// land here, there’s no doubt about that, 7/' | they can; and, once here, they’re going to throw up all sorts of things, | so that they’ll never go away again. They intend, according to the paper before me, (I’ve Mr. SreeLPen’s word for it), to draw a curtain | clean before the Pavilion; to command High Street with a battery of brass guns; to build a redoubt right opposite the playhouse, with a drawbridge to suffer nobody to go intoit! Then, with Horn-work right before the Town Hall, and angles (as I understood Mr. 8.) com- manding the Market House, why Brighton has no help for it, but to kiss the foot of the haughty invader for ever and forever! “With this fact, Sir, staring us boldly in the face, I do think Her Magesty might be induced to return to the Pavilion. It would so rally Brighton and the tradespeople about her. People (I only wish they’d mind their own bisness !) have run down the Pavilion because it’s more Indian than English. As Mr. Moce sweetly says in his Gude to us, persons who do so ‘might as reasonably quarrel with the flowers of the parterre—the lively carnation, or the painted tulip!’ why shouldn’t Her Masesrty, as the Queen of the Kast Indies, have an And then, Sir, | Indian Palace? The sun (as GeRKINs used to say), if he would, couldn’é | set upon Her Masesty’s dominions, and why shouldn’t she have a palace—from the Chinese down to the Hottentot—to match every one of’em? But I’m much afraid that public spirit and public building | won't act with dear Gzorce THE Fourtu. If he could only know what was going on at the Pavilion, 1’m sure his loyal and affectionate subjects would see him again on the Chain Pier—as Meg Merrilies says—by | moonlight. However, Sir, to return to the French. “T have some hope that I have touched the heart, and struck “en dan | the cords of Brighton. And, Sir, as one little example is better t all the talk in the world—(as dear Gerxins said when he knocked down a brute of a fellow that once insulted me)—I have already put my house | upon the war establishment. “T have sword for him, on an errand, jump over the posts; though, of course, as his mistress, I’m obliged to wink at it). If that boy isn’t as good as any two French grenadiers, English beef and pudding may henceforth go for nothing. He’s getting on wonderful, too, at the sword exercise; and on boiled leg-of-mutton days practises a good hour at least ‘cutting six’ at the turnips. “T’ve no doubt—from what I see going on next door—that this example will spread; and so in the Book of Glory may expect a beau- tiful place for the Pages of Brighton. ‘As for Betsy, the housemaid—Mary, the all-work—and Susay, the cook, I have had made for them three beautiful dresses after Jenny Linp; and at the first alarm they will appear upon the beach to succour our regular troops, or the irregular militia, as Piglias di Reggimentals. —f if 8 eae ae me eae ae If every lodging-house in Brighton does half as much, shan’t we have a nice force,—unattached, as I believe they call it ? “ And should that day arrive, Mr. Punch, there will be found a woman who—when the French shall leap upon the shore—will cry like a trumpet— ‘Up, Gats! anp at ’EM!’ ** In the meanwhile, I am working for the Militia that is to be formed urchased a fowling-piece and cartridge-box, with a small | ULIus, the page, a boy of great spirit (you should only see | BARAT

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 43 | most marvellously to the | contemplation of existence | Thus, the allegory of the | out by the picture of the a set of colours in blood-red cruel, mixed (whatever people may say) with my own hair ; and—and—meanwbile rest— ** Yours to command , “ Mary Gerxins.” “P.§. I will send you an early copy of the speech, before I present the flag.” THE CATNACH COLLECTION. Ir is not with the smallest tnaling of satisfaction or pride, but rather the reverse, that Puxch announces his having obtained permission from the proprietor of the celebrated Catnacn Collection, to publish a “—. - the principal gems of Art it contains in the pages of this periodical, Most people who have studied the Ballad Literature of England are aware that it consists chiefly of a variorum edition, printed on tea- fan sold at a penny for three yards by the vocalists who give publicity to the ——, of our popular minstrels. These effusions are invariably adorned with a picture, supposed, no doubt, to be appro- priate to the poetry beneath; and these pictures we have the permission to engrave in a lump if we like it; or, if we prefer it, in a continuous series. We had rather get rid of the matter at once, and we there- fore present some of the choicest specimens of pictorial Art that the Catwacu Collection affords us the power of selecting. _ The annexed engraving is taken from the original icture that illustrates the eautiful ballad of “ Zhe Rose shall cease to blow,” and the artist, as will be seen, has treated the subject in a manner of remarkable novelty. There isa German mysticism in the mixed idea of ceasing and blowing which is here shadowed forth; for we are carried ceasing and brains blown man letting off the pistol. | rose ceasing to blowishazily — | Shadowed forth in a style of unintelligibility that almost touches the sublime by just overstepping the ridiculous. The second work of Art which we have obtained ihe Catnachian sanction to engrave, is the charming piece of Land- seerian life that adorns the ballad of “JZ love her, how T love her!” In this delicious bit of Nature, the dog is sup- posed to be performing some Office of fidelity for some kind mistress, though we confess the hockey-stick in the dog’s mouth is rather destructive of the illusion, for it is impro- bable that a lady would require such an article, and the words “TI love her, how I love her,” are consequently slightly inappropriate to the design, which is under- stood to have been drawn expressly for them. This, however, is a mere speck on the sun, or, at most, a blot of ink on the tablecloth. But to our mind, the last is the loveliest of all, for it gives us the portrait of a beautiful black cat as an accompaniment to the spirit- stirring song of “ The Soldier who died for his king.” . The extreme aptitude of the illustration to the song is in this in- stance so obvious, that we will not insult our readers by pointing it out more decidedly. A Bishop Afloat. Ir is intended, says the Globe, to found a Bishopric somewhere in the Chinese seas. Britannia has long had a patent for ruling the waves temporally ; but now, it seems, we are to reduce them under spiritual domination. A part of the ocean is to be converted into an episcopal see. Already we have a floating church on the Thames; but we are now going to give the Chinese a floating Bishop. We do not know what to say to this project. A Bishop cannot be created on shore in these times without raising a violent storm ; and we are warranted in anticipating the greatest danger to shipping-from the tempest which will be excited by the establishment of a prelate on the deep. PEARLS FROM PUNCH’S ALBUM. In y ory apes of the numerous applications made to Punch Hy some of the first fair ones of the land, to contribute scraps to their Albums, he has resolved to throw open the pages of his own poetical scrap-book from time to time, and he requests his female tormentors to help them- selves to any tit-bit they may take a fancy to. LINES ON A FAVOURITE SPARROW, Ha! pretty flutterer, pensive bird, For ever on the wing; *Tis true Ye voice is seldom heard, Nor art thou prone to sing. Sweet tenant of the cockloft, come And share with me the social crumb. I cannot offer thee a hedge Wherein to build thy nest, But'on my garret window-ledge Thou art a welcome guest. With thee, my sparrow, I will share My morning muffin—there, boy, there! [The author opens the window and sprinkles the frag- ments of his muffin on the sill.) - Why dost thou coyly glide away, d seek you leads so Poor foolish bird, a moment stay— Thou canst not see the cat. __ She seems with deadly purpose r- , Ha! my poor sparrow’s hopp’d the twig. LINES FOR MUSIC. Come, strike me the harp with its soul-stirring twang, The drum shall reply with its hollowest bang ; Up, up in the air with the light tambourine, And let the dull ophycleide’s groan intervene ; For such is our life, lads, a chaos of sounds, Through which the gay traveller actively bounds. With the voice of the public the statesman must chime, And change the key-note, boys, exactly in time ; The lawyer will coolly his client survey, As an instrument merely whereon he can play. Then harp, drum, and cymbals together shall clang, With a loud tooral lira, right tooral, bang bang. ON A REJECTED NOSEGAY, OFFERED BY THE AUTHOR TO A BEAUTIFUL YOUNG LADY, WHO RETURNED IT. What! then you won’t accept it, won’t you? Oh! No matter; pshaw! my heart is breaking, though. My bouquet is rejected ; let it be: For what am I to you, or you to me ? Tis true, I once had hoped ; but now, alas ! Well, well; tis over now, and let it pass. I was a fool—perchance T am so still ; You won’t accept it! Let me dream you will: But that were idle. Shall we meet again? Why should we? Water for my burning brain! I could have loved thee—Could! I love thee yet; Can only Lethe teach me to forget ? Oblivion’s balm, oh tell me where to find! Is it a tenant of the anguish’d mind? Or is it P—ha! at last I see it come; Waiter! a bottle of your oldest rum. Pantomime Distress. In consequence of the falling off in the attraction of Pantomimes, there are at this moment supposed to be three hundred Clowns out of employ, and two hundred pairs of Pantaloons, besides an enormous ee of Sprites, and an unusual number of Harlequins. A large shipment of Clowns’ dresses to New Zealand has just been effected, in the hope that the native chiefs may adopt the costume for which there is now so little demand in this country. THE MECCA OF ENGLAND. TueERE is a curious analogy between our own Canterbury and the Holy City of the Mussulmen. Canterbury, like Mecca, was formerly the annual resort of pilgrims. At Mecca the dead Manomet is said to remain suspended in his coffin midway between two loadstones. At Canterbury we have a living Archbishop in a state of equilibrium, between the opposite attractive forces of a mandamus and a pramunire.

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44 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL. COMFORT IN SHAVING. Smavinc is not exactly comfortable in summer, but in winter it comes before us with a two-fold horror. ‘The first man who invented a razor must have been a monster, whose name ought to have been pre- served for the unanimous desecration of bearded generations. How- ever, as we cannot remove the nuisance from our chins, we may as well be as good-tempered—if our razor will onlv allow us—over it as possible. We throw out a notion, which any philanthropist_or barber may improve upon for the good of suffering humanity. We want a coverlid which shall enable us to shave in bed. Two small holes for the arms would do it; and with a hook-and-eye to fasten round the neck, the desideratum is complete. We hope the advertising carts will convince us in a week, that our notion has not been wasted. We are sure the new “ Patent Easy Shaving Coverlid” will shortly be ordered to lie on every gentleman’s bed. THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF MR. BRIEFLESS. CHAPTER THE THIRD. In the army, glory is won at the point of the sword, but at the Bar you must begin to cut your way to fame and fortune with a dinner- knife.* It would forma very curious problem for solution to inquire how much must necessarily be eaten as a qualification for the Bar, and whether it might not be allowable for a student to distinguish himself by eating off-hand, in a few sittings, the whole amount of food he is expected to consume in the course of the sixty dinners which, at the rate of three per term during a period of five years, he is expected to devour. I have heard medical students talk of the difficulties of cram- ming to pass the College or the Hall, but the only cramming necessary for the Bar is of a decidedly festive and agreeable character. [I suspect that the dinners required as a preparation for the Bar were | originally designed to accustom the student to those tremendous | Digests with which he must, in time, become familiar. An old punster, now happily deceased, hazarded the wretched conceit that the dinners were rendered imperative by way of hinting to the student that he might, in time, look for his desert ; but as the desert never comes, this cannot be said to follow. A later and better authority (myself) is inclined to the opinion, that the dinners are designed to have the same sort of effect upon the legal student as the gaieties into which she plunges before taking leave of the world are intended to have upon the future nun; and that while in her case a last farewell to the busy scenes of life is gone through, the legal martyr is supposed to be bidding a long adieu to his dinners, if he has got nothing but his profession to depend upon. Having been duly admitted a Member of an Inn of Court, I became entitled to the privilege of going through the process of becoming what * | take it for granted that my readers are aware of the fact, that the only qualifica- tion required for going to the Bar—beyond the payment of the fees—is the sitting down ot acertain number of dinners in the hall of the Inn to which the student has been admitted, « > Bacon calls “a full man,” in a manner far more pleasant than b reading, which he points out as the best method of acquiring the full- ness he is so greatly enraptured with. Never shall I forget the delight with which I devoured the first mouthful that was to open my eyes to the mysteries of legal science. As the first course went away; I thought I was getting a glimmering of remainders; and as the captain of the mess carved out a special interest in the moderate-sized whiting for himself, I perceived how each in turn became a mortgagee in pos- session, and | wondered what would be left for me as tenant in tail of the residue. It has sometimes occurred to me, what hopeful law students would legs of mutton with their vegetable appurtenances are recorded under the not very complimentary heading of ‘‘ Disgusting Feat” in the news- papers. A cormorant who can get through in an hour as much eating as a student at an Inn of Court is required to accomplish within a year, ought to be looked upon as capable of dispensing with the vigin/i capacity. By the way, the term “ordinary capacity” is very happily applied, for it is at a series of ordinaries that the foundation of all future legal acquirement is laid. Though eating is the only operation necessary for coming to the Rar, be found absolutely indispensable. My reading, previous to my entering on the career of studentship, had been somewhat miscellaneous. I was familiar with Crusoe, but had never heard of Crutse, or his Digest ; and The Boy's Own Book, pondered over from the time when I was a mere chit, might be considered my substitute for Cuitty’s General Practice. I knew nothing of the nature of a bond but what I had learned from fection of pleading, which Mr. SerGeant Steruen, who I always fancied was a military man, had taken for his model. to commence, I should have a counsellor and guide, and I chose for It was necessary, therefore, that, in the course of reading I was about | be met with in those voracious individuals whose performances upon | annorum lucubrationes which are recommended to persons of ordinary | if the alimentary process is to be continued after the position of a bar- | rister is gained, a great deal of reading in addition to the feeding will | Shylock ; and Othello’s speech to the Senate was, in my opinion, the per- | my guide a counsellor, who, though a junior at the Bar, was a few years | my senior. privilege of looking into every case in his chambers. 1 soon found that the most interesting case was the bookcase, which contained one | volume of law to twenty of literature; for amidst a whole set of the Waverley Novels there would be found a professional treatise, just to | give to the entire lot a learned flavour. My friend was not insensible |to appearances, for he had put poor SHAKSPEARE into law calf, to make him look as legal as possible, and the table was loaded with large bundles of paper tied up with red tape, which, as the communications of my instructor became more confidential, I discovered to be dummies. My eye had frequently been caught by the large endorsement— “ "With you, dhe JUttorney-General ; - Go ¢ and I at last ventured to ask when the Attorney-General was coming, or how long he had been gone, for I had never seen any symptoms of }that association which was blazoned forth on the brief in the most | imposing characters. My learned friend subsequently confessed to me, | that the grand combination of talent which the words “ With you, the | Attorney-General,’ disclosed, was a little idea of his own, and was merely meant to illustrate the old proverb that “Union is Strength,” in the eyes of such clients as might happen to pay him a visit. We read together at first very assiduously, and he had succeeded in | cramming about half a bushel of Coxe down my throat, when I set the example of endeavouring to relieve the duiness of the subject by occa- | sional conversation. I found my friend very ready to follow me into my digressions, and we habitually got from the learning of past times |to the more entertaining small talk of the present. ‘This, however, is a subject requiring—like Lorp Netson or the Duke or YorK—a column at least, to itself, and I will therefore postpone it until the next chapter. Exotics in Scotland. WE learn from the Daily News, that the Caledonian Horticultural Society propose to make “a glass-inclosed winter garden,” wherein shall be cultivated “the mast rare Exotics :” it will also form “a brumal romenade.” Some fine specimens of carrots have already been sent rom England, and it is hoped that, ‘ glass-inclosed,” they may brave the winter. Turnips, endive, beet-root, and savoys are also to be tried ; but we understand—upon the authority of Dr. Linptey himself—that he has great doubts whether the delicacy of these Exotics can survive the rigour of the glazed garden. As lovers of our fellow-creatures, and admirers of vegetables at large, it will afford us satisfaction to find the Doctor mistaken. He, however, gives great hopes that, in a ver favourable summer, the currant and the gooseberry might at least leaf. I made an arrangement with this gentleman to read with | him, and he ‘kindly offered me the “run of his papers,” with the

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARiVARLI 45 TYRTAUS REDIVIVUS; OR, WAR-SONGS FOR ALL CLASSES. YRT US, our readers are doubt- less aware, was a_ blind schoolmaster, whom the Athenians sent to the Spartans in mockery, when the Delphian Oracle bade the latter seek a general from the former. The schoolmaster could not fight, but he could sing; so he took to writing war-songs so spirited, that they rouse the Spartan soldiers to a valour which nothing could resist. Now Punch is a school- master, though not blind. He intends to turn his ddton from breaking heads to beating time, and that to a tune calculated to raise British spirits above proof. He tends herewith his volunteer Jittle Warbler, the songs to be set to an accompaniment of drums and fifes, and sung about the streets when the French re invade us. Valour will thus . ! be retailed at three yards a penny. As Fretcner of Saltoun said, “Give us the making of a nation’s ballads, and let who will make their laws.” As a coup d’essai, here is our —=—=Y WAR-SONG FOR THE UNITED CORPS OF CABMEN. Be firm upon your stand, boys, The badge of valour show ; And range along the Strand, boys, To chaff the advancing foe! We’ll give it to them Hansom-ly, Thro’ their ranks we ’ll cut away ; Friends may resist our charges, But we’ll make the Frenchman pay. Each Cabman, ere he backs a foot, On the box shall find his bier ; And every gallant Waterman Shall kick the bucket here. Then close your ranks, brave comrades, The onset boldly dare! Rememb’ring the old proverb, “Faint heart ne’er won the fare.” WAR-SONG FOR THE PAWNBROKERS. Come, pledge yourselves, brave Pawnbrokers! your houses, stocks, and wives, At a tremendous sacrifice to offer up your lives : The haughty foe with interest pay off at each advance, And send three balls in answer to every one of France. Think of the ties of family, remembering that you If not = a band of brothers, are a band of uncles true ; Your podere still are unredeemed, until the foe’s in rout: Then bravely pop away at them, while fire your batteries spout. Prove ’tis no exaggeration what your customers all say, That who once falls in your clutches can never get away ; And ney off the foemen, nor of spirit bate a particle, Till they find Britannia mettle to be quite the genuine article. WAR-SONG OF THE UNITED TEMPLARS, OR OLD NICK’S OWN. Come, all you Temple heroes, Who practise at the Bar, And teach the French invaders What British actions are. Allow of no demurrer, On the score of funk or fears, But the Frenchmen show what’s the Roe, Doe, Doe, Of the Temple volunteers. The sword that Justice carries She’! lend unto her sons, When your reports of cases Yield to reports of guns. With stern assault and battery, Come down about their ears, And they ’ll run, we know, from the Roe, Doz, Dae, Of the Temple Volunteers. If up the Thames they venture, The Temple’s in the way; There your appearance enter, And challenge their array. Once get their nobs in Chancery, And there they ’ll stay for years, Till the costs they know of the Roe, Doe, Doe, Of the Temple Volunteers. Give none a locus standi That the Channel ventures o’er, Arrest them in mesne process— Eject them from our shore! Ye still can draw the long-bow, As at Cressy and Poictiers, And your skill ye owe to the Roe, Doe, Doe, Of the Temple Volunteers. The long bills of our ancestors You still know how to wield; Full many a well-fought action Hath trained you for the field; And speedy execution _ Each rash defendant fears, When down on the foe, with their Roe, Doe, Doe, Come the Temple Volunteers. Hear no plea in abatement While one foe rests alive; For, with intent felonious, By force and arms they strive Against our Sovereign Lady’s peace, As wilful trespasseres ; As you'll let them know, with the Roe, Doe, Doe, Of the Temple Volunteers. GOLDEN GLEANINGS. “We believe,” says the Daily News, “there is now a probability of a sweeping reform being applied to the ill-managed and expensive esta- blishment called the Mint.” We should be very glad to have some of the sweepings of this reform, as Mint-dust, we should imagine, must be valuable. We heard lately of an establishment in which gold and silver are largely used, and of which the proprietors make some £300 a-year out of the washings of their workmen’s hands. We would direct the attention of the servants of some of our millionaires to the contents of their masters’ wash-hand-basins, which, considering the deal of money that passes through the hands of those capitalists, are, we think, very imprudently thrown away. We would also suggest that the linings of the pockets of the same gentlemen, properly treated, may yield a con- siderable quantity of the precious metals; and thus, we flatter our- selves, we have opened an entirely new mine of perquisites to their | footmen. How to Ascertain the Depth of Snow. Taxe a place in a third-class railway carriage, and if it snows very strongly, you will be able to measure, off your own person, the exact depth of snow. Persons fond of this experiment, however, are advised to stand upright, or else the calculation cannot be ascertained with that accuracy which is so necessary for the proper liquidation of scientific problems. VoL. XIV. nn od | |

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46 PUNCH. OR THE LONDON CHARIVART. THE FIRST SAMPLER OF THE INVASION. Tue fair spinsters of Arachne House, Clapham, have been putting their needles together for the purpose of presenting F.M. the Duke or WELLINGTON with a beautiful sampler upon the promised inva- sion. The result is before the reader. We are only sorry we cannot favour him with a view of the gorgeous colours that have been stitched into it to give it every possible rich- ness. The rainbow might borrow a hint from it. TuRNER even would be dazzled, and would confess with a sigh that one of his great pictorial riddles ; looked pale and dingy by ® | the side of it. The cannons, for instance, are pink ; the LY _JGLSLJLiIS_J@LI@L / ' ie la ee! iol le! la lola lal lal =, ee ——————————E7~- i ie eo ee —— | balls red; and the lion is blushing a violent crimson all over, with the ex- ception of his mane, which is a light green. The Sampler, we believe, has been hung in the gallery of the F.M. at Apsley House. The Duke was heard to exclaim with pathos, when he looked at it, “We’ll now proceed to dinner ;” \and he rang the bell accordingly, and ordered Jonn “to serve up.” We give this as a positive fact. The artist of the above Sampler is the drawing-master of Arachne House, and we have a par- ticular pleasure in men- tioning that his name is BrowN—we mean, JOHN Brown. SOL Questions at the Hxramination for Attorneys. Hilary Term, 1848, Havine met with these questions in the columns of our useful and respectable contemporary the Legal Observer, we have taken the liberty of transcribing some of them and placing them in the hands of our learned friend Mr. Briertess, for the purpose of getting answers put to them. He has dashed off, with his usual combination of brilliancy and research, the following responses, which, in the language of a theatrical tag, we hope “all our kynde young friends ” will not fail to take a lessson from. I.—Preliminary. Q. Where did you serve your clerkship ? A, Partly at Mr. Grasatt’s, in Clifford’s Inn, partly at the Casino, partly in Cremorne Gardens, &c., &c. (as the case may be). Q. Mention some of the law-books which you have read and studied. A. The Comic Blackstone, the Law of Kindness, the Lats of Cricket, the comic song of L—A—W lau, &c., &e. I1.—Common and Statute Law, and Practice of the Courts. Q. What do you understand by the words, Common Law ? A. L understand it to be that sort of Law which is so very common as to make it difficult to be kept out of. How long does a writ of summons remain in foree—how may it be continued—and on what days and at what hours can it be served ? A. It remains in force until the would-be server is himself served out, and induced, either by persuasion or the pump, to abandon. his mission. It may be continued as long as the plaintiff likes to go on paying for more, when the first has proved ineffectual. The days and ours when it may be served are immaterial, until the requisition, “First catch your man,” is complied with. Q. Explain an appearance according to the statute. A, When a man is reduced to beggary by the law, and has become so seedy that he is ashamed to be seen, his plight may be called an appearance according to the statute. Q. How is a distress made for rent ? A, By adding to the distress of the parties who cannot pay their rent, by augmenting their family expenses with the cost of a man in possession. Q. What is an attachment ? A, The affectionate grasp with which an attorney fastens upon the pocket of his client. IIL.—Conveyancing. Q. What is equity of redemption ? : A, The privilege of taking a hat out of pledge, or rescuing your mother’s flat-iron from the custody of your uncle. Q. How are copyhold estates usuaily alienated? A. By being melted away in litigation, and falling into the hands of | the lawyers. Q. How is an estate in coparcenery created? and what persons are usually coparceners ? me A, An estate in coparcenery is created when four friends enter a | coffee-house and call for one cup of coffee with four saucers, when the |eoffee at once becomes an estate in coparcenery. Some authorities | parcen-ers. (Oh /) | @. A. conveys by bargain and sale a fee-simple estate to B. and _his | heirs to the use of C. and his heirs. What estates, legal or equitable, do B. and C. respectively take ? A, What they can get after the lawyers have done with the property. The old rule is, that the former take each a shell, and the latter the oyster. GALLIPOT COMPANIONS. Av a festival held last week at Caius College, Cambridge, in celebra- | tion of the five hundredth anniversary of the foundation of that seat of ‘learning, after the usual loyal and other toasts, the Rev. J. J. Suiru | proposed “ Physic,” and, strange as it may seem that such a thing | should have been done at a convivial meeting, Physic was actually |drunk by the company. In what terms Mr. Smirn’s speech was couched, we do not know; perhaps they were some such as these— | Gentlemen, allow me to propose you atoast. When I mention health, | you will all admit that I allude to the greatest of sublunary blessings. | I am sure, then, you will agree with me that we are all more or less | interested in the toast I am about to propose. I beg pardon, gentlemen, I should rather say to prescribe. Gentlemen, with a view to our better healths, if you please, we’i! drink Physic; and much good may it do us.” Had any vocalists been present, one of them might, or would, or could, or should have obliged the company with an appropriate song ; as, for instance, with the following :— A bumper of febrifuge fill fill for me; Give those who prefer it black draught ; But whatever the | it a strong one must be, Though our last dose to-night shall be quaff’d. And while Influenza attacks high and low, And man’s queerest feelings oppress him, . Mouths-making, nose-holding, round, round let it go, Drink our Physic and Founder—ugh bless him! - - - ugh bless him! U ---u--- ugh bless him! . Mouths-making, nose-holding, round, round let if go, Drink our Phy-y-y-sic and Founder—ugh bless him ! have held that two clergymen officiating in the same parish are co- ! a

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of tt | @< 09 — . 1, r r

PUNCH,. OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 47

FRENCH DICTATION. upGInc from the French oracles—we mean, curiously enough, the French news- papers—it would appear that App -EL-KapeErR has written a letter to Lovis- Puiiirre, in which he de- clares “he completely sub- mits to France, and wi accept, with gratitude, all that the king J decide as to his fate.’ We doubted this submission, firstly, from its extraordinary rapidity; and secondly, from the in- credible fact of the Arab ieftain’s resigning him- self to Louis -PHILIPPE’s generosity,—an absurdity which must have been clearly invented! with a view of libelling ye Axnp-£t-Kapsr; and! making the Desert Hawk appear a Goose. e have looked into this letter, and find that, true enough, one was written; but very different to the one that was sent. The real facts are, that a French officer happened to look in at the cell in which ABD-EL-KaDER is confined, at the very time that he was dictating his letter, and took the liberty to make a few corrections. We give the two letters; the Emir’s being in italics, the officer’s corrections being left plain, purposely to speak for themselves. “ Faithless Son of a Dog Beloved Monarch. Mayst thou be mangled by the scythe of Monxtr, and pounded by the mace of Nekir, a thousand years! Mayst thou live, O king, for ever! May thou and thy sons (particularly the Duxe D’AuMALE) eat dirt! May the fullness of the earth be the portion of thee and thine! Thou hast broken thy promise to the Desert Hawk. Thy word is as true as the Book of the Prophet. Thy faith was pledged that I should depart to Alexandria in peace. Thou hast granted me a refuge in the land of the éricolor, in the bosom of a great nation. Thrice long-eured jackass was ABD-EL-KADER, that ever he trusted in the Son of Egalité! 1 did well to confide in the offspring of anoble Sire! Let me begone, base eater of thy words, to the land of my choice. Vouchsafe, great king, that thy servant may abide in France, and nestle beneath the shadow of thy royal wing. “ Thy enemy unto death, - ”» “Thy faithful subject and bondman, } ABD-EL-KADER. Here the officer took the Arab chieftain’s hand, and guiding it, made him apply his signature to his corrections. ‘The Emir’s letter was destroyed, the amended one only sent to Lovis-Puitirre. Such is the power of French dictation !

THE DECENCIES OF LIFE—IN THE ARMY. Ir is high time that we should cease to apply the term private, to a soldier in the ranks; for if there is any one comfort enjoyed by our common soldiery, it is certainly not that of privacy. At the inquest lately held at Leeds on the body of Marcaret GarRarp, a soldier’s wife, who was shot at Leeds Barracks by Micnart Stokes, one of her husband’s comrades, a very striking proof of this assertion transpired in the course of the evidence. ** WitttaAM GarrArp, the husband of the deceased, said—‘ I am a private in the 57th Regiment. Muicnaet Stokes fs a private in the same regiment. Since we have been in Leeds, Stokes has slept in the same room with me and my wife.’” Speaking of Sir John Falstaff, “ How doth the good knight?” asks Justice Shallow of Bardolph. * May ask how my lady his wife doth?” “Sir, pardon,” answers Bardolph; “a soldier is better accommodated than with a wife.” Assuredly, a soldier with a wife cannot be worse “accommodated” than he appears to be in the British Army. A bivouac must be a paradise in comparison with the dormitory of WILLIAM and MarGcaret GarrarD at Leeds. The cold night-air and frozen dew are physically unpleasant ; but they are not abhorrent and revolting to the moral sense. We believe it is one of the Duke or WELLINGTON’s aphorisms, that ‘*a man who is particular about religion has no business to be a soldier.” It would seem that a regard for common decency, a state of feeling above that of an animal, are equally incompatible with the militar rofession. Otherwise, the married soldier could never endure such “accommodations” as those provided for him at Leeds Barracks; and, what is more to the purpose, they would never have been permitted by those in authority over him. Wuitt1am GARRARD, we observe, wore a stripe, by way of distinction as a ‘‘ good-conduct man.”

As a reward for his good conduct, we presume, he was allowed to marry; and being married, to be thus “ accommodated with a wife.” How long would such a state of things be tolerated in Officers’ quarters ? Or rather, how much longer will Head-quarters permit its existence P If it is really expedient to degrade and brutalise the soldier, well and good. Revive flogging, and continue a regulation which is even better calculated to effect that purpose; or else let his back and his feelings too be defended from laceration. Great pains are taken to make him hold up his head like aman. Put an end to a system which, treating him as a brute, seems intended to reduce him to grovel on all-fours.

FORTIFICATIONS FOR THE INTERIOR. Ain—‘‘ Oh, the Roast Beef of Old England !” Tuer talk a vast deal of defending our shore ; Our interior requires to be fortified more With what gave such strength to our fathers of yorc, Oh, the roast beef of Old England, And oh, the Old English Roast Beef! For what are a nation’s defences, indeed ? The muscle, the bone, and the blood of its breed : And therefore, on what ought the people to feed ? Oh, the roast beef of Old England, And oh, the Old English Roast Beef ! Though bastions and bulwarks to raise may be wise, *Tis on men, after all, that'a-country relies; And what gives men stamina, courage, and size? Oh, the roast beef of Old England, And oh, the Old English Roast. Beef! Our old'wails:of' wood iaze-superb in their:kind, But, our outer with innerrprotectiom combined, With sound belly-timber we-owght to be lined. Oh, the roast beef of Old England, And oh, the Old English Roast Beef ! Then, if we ’d make sure all invaders to beat, We should find our poor people in plenty of meat, And beef, above all things, is what they should eat. Oh, the roast beef of Old England, And oh, the Old English Boast Beef ! What follows is clear as the noon-day so bright, That to keep up their pluck we should feed them aright, And train them on beef if we mean them to fight. Oh, the roast. beef of Old England, And oh, the Old English Roast Beef! Thus, though with our neighbours we never may jar, Some good will arise from provisions for war, Of which good roast beef is the primest by far. Oh, the roast beef of Old England, And oh, the Old English Roast Beef!

OBITUARY. WE regret to have to announce the death of the Great Elephant, late in the service of Mr. GeorGE WoMBWELL, in whose travelling carriage he expired suddenly, on Friday, the 14th ult., at Norwich. We understand the nature of his complaint was elephantiasis—a disease apparently peculiar to his family ; and, in his case, its progress was, it is thought, materially accelerated by the excitement of his recent presen- tation at Court, which, at his advanced age, 85, was likely to affect the strongest constitution. His physical powers continued, however, unim- paired until within a short time of his death ; while his mental, we have reason to suppose, were neither less nor greater than formerly. Upon the melancholy event being ascertained, a search was made for his will; but his trunk and other moveables being examined without suc- cess, it was presumed he had died intestate. His personal effects—or remains—were therefore distributed among his carnivorous next of kin ; while the estate in tail, of which he died seised, will, in all pro- bability, revert to his maternal ancestor—the Earth.

Geese on the Serpentine. Durine the late severe weather, in addition to the valuable collection of aquatic birds, large numbers of wild-fowl have made their appearance on the Serpentine—a phenomenon which is the well-known indication of a hard winter. The audacity (not to say foolhardiness) of these birds in venturing upon the most dangerous situations on the ice, is most extraordinary. They belong to the Goose species, and constitute that variety of it called, in scientific phraseology, Bipes implumis.

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A ee RD —~ 48 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL

*- Te | 477 y ») / Lb, ba y y be AL ; A 4; CAL (LG Lie, Cg BZ W vad 4 — Petia “ . MD —~— - es . 7 = .— XY aS oe 5 - — ™ AN) mM) ¥, ») he, ———— ~ i <Sanany SS R~ = : — Vy, ee al Ze STS OO mS “Wo—Mare! Hane 1t!—anytnING IN REASON ] DONT MIND; BUT, AS A FaTueR or A Famity, I DON’T FEEL JUSTIFIED IN GOING AT sucH A GATE AS THAT!”

OUR NATIVE LANGUAGE IN DANGER OF INVASION! Many persons have complained that they could see no fun in the late ALSATIA RESTORED.

THERE is an awful Nemesis who hovers over the Domain of Law, and those who practise therein. She has last week interposed her terrors between the Temple and the officials of the County Courts. She stands on the threshold of the sanctuary of Dear Law, and says to Cheap Law, “Enter not. Procul, O procul este, profani!” The Temple, to drop the aid of metaphor and Lemprire, has been | declared to be exempt from the jurisdiction of the County Courts Act. Mr. Dunur may get credit right and left, if he can, to any amount | below £20, and snap his fingers at law, as law has hitherto snapped her | fingers at him, unless his creditors are frantic enough to venture into | a superior Court. Are we not right to call this the work of a Legal Nemesis. Cheap Law may triumph everywhere else ; but her arm falls powerless in the Temple, as evil spirits are paralysed on consecrated ground. The old Alsatia is revived in the Temple. London can still boast one Debtors’ Sanctuary and Duns’ Senntenied. Not even that most persevering of creditors, the Duas Scotus or Scotch Dun, who has won

|lengthy proceedings in the Court of Queen’s Bench relative to the confirmation of Dr. Hamppex. We do not agree with them. We think some of the English-French, or French-English, quoted in the pleadings, exceedingly droll. We subjoin a specimen of the jargon to which we have alluded :— “Et Mountacve dit que ceo letter le Roy ne fuit authority; mes signification del pleasure le Roy. FLercuer ne est question, et ceo fuit grant del auter part, que Roy poit fayre evesque sans election del deane et chap. per que Bale est bon evesque. Et le Court teigne ceo cleere, et ne voyle ceo traver in question, care est prerogative le Roy in cest part.” But, although it may be all very well to laugh at this gibberish, its erusal may also suggest a serious reflection. In the event of our eing invaded by JoINVILLE THE ConQuERoR, and of our country being reduced to a French province, we may conjecture, from the foregoing horrible stuff, what will become of our English language. Oh, shade of Linptey Murray! Oh, ghosts of Barr and Dr. Jonson! How happy are ye in being ghosts and shades, since your eyes, at least, are for ever secure from beholding so horrible a corruption of your native

a name in history for his subtlety and acuteness, can penetrate within | tongue ! those walls, unless at an expense which, as an economist, he is certain a not to risk. Since the above fact has been made known, Mr. Dunvp has flun The Use of Chloroform. —_ — i We think that this valuable invention is too much limited in its g open his outer door. The deceitful ticket, “At Westminster,” or “In I Judge’s Chambers,” or “On Circuit,” has been taken down, and our! application, for there are thousands of circumstances of every-day life, eyes are no longer saluted by the apparition of that persevering trades-| in which, if insensibility could be produced, the good effect would be man who used to be seen seated in fis garden-chair for hours on the| obvious. It is not everybody who stands in need of a surgical opera- landing in front of Mr. Dunvur’s inhospitable “oak,” grimly taking/ tion, and the restriction of Chloroform to matters of the kind is con- his meals there, out of a basin brought by his children. There is only | sequently a great curtailment of the advantages of the new discovery. one thing to be apprehended, the total stoppage of credit to the nume-| We are sure that if Chloroform were always sold with new boots, it rous family of the Dunurs. We need not say that such an event | would greatly add to the comfort of trying them on; and “Chloroform would be even worse than a stoppage of credit in the commercial world. | for easy shaving” would be a popular announcement in the window of The panic, however, is as yet, we are happy to say, confined to creditors. | any barber. In schools where the antiquated practice of flagellation Mr. Dunur may be said to be whitewashed, and exults in the fact. | still prevails, if it is only the warning and disgrace that are the objects The sanguine young man forgets that the whitewash only conceals an| of the brutal ceremony, the use of Chloroform would redeem the opera- appalling nudity. It is true he need not now dread his old creditors, | tion from the charge of cruelty, without depriving the punishment of its but he cannot possibly create any new ones.

| assumed efficacy on the grounds specified.

9909-7T *"NZadO’) “HW ADAA *‘yoor’ AHT.

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"300, aH, av GQNV HOVaAd NAWMLAd TINE NHOfL aad ‘NEGHOD “AI LDAf a ; Ue. YN | ih iN - Wj Yt ‘alt i | Al HI ’ ‘i ie H ‘VE a i) Z

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 51 A MODEL GOVERNESS. -ESPECTABLY connected, young, accomplished, but poor, is the Model Governess. She closes the door against all acquaint- ances and relations the moment she enters her situation, and as for friends, she loses them all —forgets in time the very name of one; for who ever heard 0 a Governess with friends? She never goes out, and is allowed no visitors. To be perfect, she should be ugly. oe betide her, if she be pretty! The mother suspects her, the young adies hate her, and even the ladies’-maid cannot “ abide her.” Her beauty only exposes her to compliments andattentions from the guests, and this makes the young ladies all the more jea- lous, and the mother all the more irate against her. The young gentlemen of the house, also, persist in flirting with her, and this rouses the suspicions and sneers of the old gentle- man. He accuses her of making love, of “laying traps” for his.sons, and of being “an artful, designing thing.” She bears all without a murmur, and never retorts. It is her sad situation to be always sus- pected. A letter cannot come to her by the post, but it instantly raises a storm of uncharitable surmises—in fact, anything like a correspondence is highly improper, and forbidden accordingly. Her drawings and paintings elicit on encomiums, but they are all showered on the young ladies, who have put their initials in the corner: the Model Governess is not thought of, much less praised. A kind word has such a strange effect upon her that it frequently makes her run up to her room, where she hides herself and cries bitterly, yet joyfully. It is very curious, she Is never ill—at least she never confesses to it. Her dress, of course, must be of the very plainest. All light colours are prohibited as strictly as cousins. It is all the better, in fact, if she wears caps. A pair of spectacles, also, enhance the claims of a Model Governess, especially if she is not more than twenty. She must not mind being told once a week that she is eating the “bread of dependence;” and, above all, she must “know her station,” though it is rather difficult to say what that station is. It is not the drawing-room, it is not the kitchen, nor is it the young ladies’ room. It must be the landing-place. Children are her especial delight; they tell tales against her, outvie one another in teasing her; play little practical jokes, peculiar to juvenile geniuses, with her work-box and desk. The whole life of the Governess is a living sermon upon the holy text of the forgiveness of injuries. Her amusements are few; for singing cannot be called singing when it is done by command, and dancing is but sorry dancing when you are requested to dance merely to fill up a side-couple. Her accomplishments, however, are manifold, though exercised for the benefit of others. She is an Encyclopedia in bombazeen, which must be ready to be referred to at a moment’s notice by every one in the house upon every possible and impossible science, including the very latest improvements, corrections, and additions that may have taken place in philosophy, poetry, or puddings. She plays the harp, piano, and accordeon; teaches calisthenics and hair- curling; dances the newest fashionable dances, from Bohemia or Abyssinia; understands love-cleaning and dress-making; is clever at Berlin wool-work ; in short, must have every emale accomplishment at her fingers’ ends. She knows eight or ten languages, but mustn’t talk unless spoken to. Her greatest talent should be displayed in listening cleverly. Her sympathy should be all upon one side, like the Irishman’s unanimity. She must have no views of her own, but only reflect, like a looking-glass, those of the person who is consulting her. Her whole life is a heritage of petty meannesses. She has not the consideration that is paid to a cook, and very frequently not half the wages that are paid to a housemaid; in fact, the house- maid has the advantage of the two, for she is entitled at least to a month’s warning, whereas the poor Governess is often dismissed at a moment’s notice. The Model Governess is literally = — of fashionable society. Ladies, think of your own daughters, and treat er y! OUR IRISH PRIZE BULL. Tue Irish translation of “ Union is Strength,” runs, “ Divide et impera.” * Repeal of the Union” is a monstrous practical Bull; it grew out of a long line of such Bulls, and has o—* a numerous progeny, like their parent. Its head-quarters are in Conciliation » 80 called because those who meet in it are always quarrelling. It embodies itself in an “ Association,” so called because no two members of it but are dissociated in views | \ and opinions. _ The original Repeal Association was a bit of furniture manufactured out of the old seasoned timber of the arch Agitator and his clique, and the green wood of Young Ireland. It naturally warped and cracked in the heat of debate, agitation, and discussion. The cracks were glued,.and puttied, and varnished by that King of vampers, the late Danie, O’ConnELL. The rotten fabric looked very imposing, while glue, putty, and varnish did their office. Buta crack is acrack!—It soon widened to a split. The Young Ireland leg came off, one fine mo , after a hotter fire of words than usual. And ‘thenceforward Old Ireland and Young Ireland had each their own Association. There were two original little Dust-pans in the field, each warning the passers by that it had no con- f| nection with the spurious shop over the way. The Conciliation Hall concern continued to deal in unredeemed pledges, flummery, tricks, jobs quirks, quiddets, and uibbles. The Young Treland establishment paraded the more formidable wares of sedition and violence. Mr. Jonn O’ConnELn vainly solicits custom for the original depot, while Joun of Tuam bawls at the door, as touter in chief, brazen and brainless, shameless and fluent, as a touter should be. Meacuer, Durry & Co. presided (for some time harmoniously) over the Young Ireland counter, with its imposing array of pikes and blunderbusses, slugs an n- powder. The two concerns abused each other, of course, and filled their windows with placards, each charging his rival, and late partner, with every crime conceivable by the Trish mind. And so closes split the first. Young Ireland next gets up a “ Confederation,” which of course shows the Bull blood in it, by at once breakin to pieces ; and this brings about split the second. And lastly, the spirited firm of MeacuEr, DuFFy, MitcueLtL, and Brothers, begins to warp an gape, and crack like its predecessors. _And lo, now! the one are three—each with his own prospectus. Mr. Durry sticks by The Nation, Mr. MeaGuer invests in The Southern Reporter, and Mr. Mircuet1, who is by the ears with everybody, and wishes everybody to be by the ears, starts The United Irishmen. And so the last of these Bulls is greater than the first. _ Thus runs the genealogy of this characteris- tically-named organ. Old Ireland quarrels with Young Ireland; the Association splits; and The Nation grows out of the gap. Physical force iz posse quarrels with physical force in esse; The Nation is divided, and The United Irishmen rises on his Bull out of this split of a split of a split. Ve beg to propose to Mr. Mircwett, and any of his friends he may not yet have quarrelled with, this problem—‘ How many disunited parties are required to make up a United Irishman? The Repealers have certainly repealed one Union —their Wales with each other. ; THE CUTLER’S LAMENT. I NEVER wrote up “Skates to sell,” Trusting to fickle Nature’s law, But—when Id advertised them well, _ And puffed them—it was sure to thaw. Yes, it was ever thus—the Fates Seem adverse to the trade in skates. Tf a large stock I chanced to buy, _ Thinking ’twas likely still to freeze, Up the thermometer would fly— All in a day—some ten degrees. Their presence in my window-pane Turns ice to mud, and snow to rain. A Dungeon Keep. Tue French have broken their word, but they eep ABD-EL-KADER. We suppose the one is easier to keep than the other. If they go on, however, at this faithless rate, they will find it easy enough for the future to keep their word, for they will never get a soul to take it.

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52 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. THE GREAT CLOCK MOVEMENT. . Greenwich Clock, log, “ Come, No sTopPINcC—yYOU MUST MOVE ON.” Tuere has lately been an attempt to heal the melancholy differences existing in the Clock family; and their respectable head at Greenwich has been pointed out to them as a proper example for them all to be ided by. We regret exceedingly that the Clocks of England cannot be made to act all alike, but that, in the eagerness of some to advance themselves, while others hang back, there should be a disagreement of the most serious character amongst them. In fact, it has almost become proverbial that scarcely two are of the same mind, and guot horlogia tot tempora will soon be as well established a proverb as quot homines tot sententia. We wish the disputatious Clocks, who contradict each other so con- tinually, would recollect and profit by the affecting lines of old Doctor Warts-HIs-NAME, who tells children—and why not Clocks ?—that “their little hands were never made” for hostile purposes. We really do not know what to propose with the view of establishing harmony amongst the Clock fraternity. It is said that all the Clocks in England are to be corrected until they conform to the rules observed by that most respectable of all Clocks, who lives in his snug little box at Greenwich; but this wholesale scheme of correction seems to us very difficult of accomplishment. We presume that refractory Clocks found keeping irregular hours, will, after this notice, be sent to the | House of Correction in their respective neighbourhoods. We are unable to guess the cause of this very distressing state of things among the Clock tribes, which are enough to drive Old Time out of mind; but if | we may hazard an opinion, we should be inclined to say that the wheels | within wheels, which complicate the arrangements of all the Clock femily, may have something to do with their unhappy divisions. Contrary Winds. Tre boy—or Professor, as he calls himself—who blows the organ at St. Stephen’s Church, Walbrook, has announced his intention of dis- | continuing that healthy weekly exercise, unless his salary is regularly | paid. To use the Professor’s own emphatic words, he says “he’s blowed if he blows any longer for nuffin at all.” There is a complete panic in the loft in consequence. The organ has been sounded Y the vestry, who have been endeavouring to play upon it for their own purposes ; but it is evident it will not be a tool, much less an instrument, in their hands. It remains passive under every blow, and will certainly go altogether, if there is no one qualified to stop it. The bellows luckily are quiet. FALSE REPORTS. * Tr is not true that App-EL-Kaper is engaged by Mr. WexstEeR, at the Haymarket, to enact the part of the Invisible Prince, a character he sustained for so long a time on the stage of French politics. M. JuLuten, the present lessee of Drury Lane, who has gone away to the North to give promenade concerts, is not the celebrated JuLIAN the Apostate spoken of in Roman History. The Mr. Brooke now acting at the Olympic is not the Rasan or SaRawak. A Queer File. WE are continually seeing advertisements for complete sets of old sem, and we believe large sums are frequently given for a perfect file of an established paper. Now there is a better plan than this for securing an old newspaper. A person has only to subscribe to a journal for a twelvemonth, and the Post-Office will take very good care that, before the papers reach him, they shall be as old, and as far removed from their original date, as the most. greedy antiquarian could wish. ‘There is only one drawback upon this excellent plan, and that is, the papers sometimes never reach the subscriber at But this is commu that will occur, of course, in the worst-regulated Post- ces. A TREASURE-TROVE FORJNEWSPAPERS. Or all the wonders in Natural History that generally take the run of the newspapers during the closing of Parliament, we wonder that no provincial Herald, or uncivilised Chronicle, in the dangerous soli- tudes of Ireland, has yet recorded the extraordinary virtues of the Gutta Percha Tree. ‘this is an oversight, which has only to be pointed out, we are sure, to be instantly followed up by a whole Bushy Forest of similar miracles. We make the country press a present of the following paragraph, on condition of their inserting in their paper the name of their generous donor. If we doa charity, we like, at least, to have it acknowledged—or else, where is the use of doing it ? Arsor Gutta Percha,—A Genuine Boot-Tree, “An AstonisHine Fact ror Naturatists.—A gentleman who is strongly imbued with the spirit of experiments—having devoted ten years of his life to the trial whether it is not possible to pickle herrings | alive—has just succeeded in introducing into this country the Gutta Percha Tree. He bought a double sole of this ‘strange but true’ material, and planted it in his little garden, in front of his humble abode in the tee Road. What was his astonishment, a few weeks afterwards, to see a Boot-Tree gradually rise out of the fertile soil, and bud with a perfect pair of little children’s shoes! These blossomed slowly, and at last bore a most lovely pair of ‘ strong gent’s highlows,’ worth at least 5s. 6¢. He naturally cultivated such a valuable branch of Horticulture, and, after watering it daily with a few drops of Warren’s Blacking, and grafting it with a few slips of French leather, he has achieved a triumph which promises fairly to shut up all the on meng shops, and turn all the cobblers of the hingien into gardeners. “This Gutta Percha Tree is at present in full fruit, and presents every specimen of boot, with the exception of the Hessian, which the gentleman (we have his card, so there can be no doubt as to the truth of his statement) says he finds it impossible to rear, probably on ac- count of the difficulty of the tassel. We are at present wearing a pair of Wellingtons gathered from this wonderful Tree, and if we had been measured for them, they could not fit more nicely. Another peculiarity is, that this Tree bears boots ‘ of all sizes,’ from the infant in arms to the father of a family. Every gentleman gifted with a numerous progeny should grow his own Boot-Tree. A specimen has been forwarded to Prince AuBert.”—Zhe United Market-Gardeners’ Independent Ham- mersmith Register.

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 53 A CHANGE FOR THE BETTER. Tose jolly old dogs, the Elder Brothers of the Trinity, have deter- mined to turn the statue of Neson at Yarmouth into a lighthouse. We presume, of course, that the illumination cannot be placed on the top of the figure, for this would infer at once that he was light-headed 3 and the only mode we see, therefore, of effecting the object in view, is to place a bull’s-eye in the hero’s belt, after the fashion adopted by our metropolitan policemen, As this would be alittle out of character with Wij | =; f —_ -— = the naval costume, we recommend a change at once to the dress of the police force; and a judicious arrangement of the cape on the shoulders will convert it into a sort of shade above the lanthorn, which will add materially to its powers of reflection. We hope the Committee of the Netson Monument in London will take an example from the Yarmouth people, and begin to turn to some use that which will never be acknowledged as an ornament. If Netson at_ Charing-Cross could be made to act asa sort of mechanical self- | acting time-keeper for all the omnibuses that pass by his base, he would indeed be a valuable acquisition to the metropolis, and he would save the peeey Se those rash attempts at oy notes in little memorandum-books, which we constantly see made by men who are pushed about in the most unceremonious manner by the crowds of passengers, THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF MR. BRIEFLESS. CHAPTER THE FOURTH. ELEMENTARY INITIATION INTO THE PRACTICE OF THE COURTS, AND THE HABIT OF TAKING NOTES, I was now regularly installed as a student of the law in the chambers of my forensic friend, a promising junior of five-and-twenty years’ standing, who was always understood to be likely some day or hee to “come out.” I see no reason for concealing his name, which I am sure he will be delighted to see in print ; and I therefore announce him at once as Mr. Batperpasu. He was the author of an elaborate treatise on the “Right of Widows to Free Bench,” and had written an article in a legal periodical on the “Rise, Progress, Uses, Abuses, Stringencies, and Contingencies, of the Rule to Compute.” Mr. BaLpERDASH was a constant attendant in Court during Term, and was always present at the sitting of the Court of Exchequer, for the gratification of bowing to their Lordships as they entered. Batperpasu had seldom an opportunity of doing more than bowing and shaking his head when the form of going through the Bar was observed ; but when it came to his turn to be asked if he had anythin to move, he always conveyed his negative ina peculiar manner, intende to imply that his time had not yet come. BaLDERDASH was not, however, at all times silent, and had contrived to make himself a sort of amicus curig on points of practice connected with the ventilation, lighting, and general construction of the Court. He did not venture on performing the office of amicus to their Lordships in any legal difficulty, but if the sun came in their eyes, and made Justice a little more blind than she ought to be, Mr. BaLDERDASH was always ready with a precedent showing how the inconvenience might be removed. “ i recollect, my luds,”’ he would exclaim, “ina case, the other day, of Dor ex parte Ror versus Roz, on the demise of Doz—a case, b; the way, which your ludships will not find in the books—I recollect, say, my luds, that in that case your ludships had the sun in your ludships’ eyes for nearly ten minutes, and on the suggestion of Mr. Baron ApeRsoN, the rest of your ludships concurring, the usher drew that curtain, and excluded the casual trespasser, by whom your — will perceive that I mean the sun.” On another occasion, when the gushes of cold air from the ventilating apparatus were very violent, and the Judges were complaining, he submitted to the Court the propriety of calling upon the person who had prepared ‘the original draft. He observed, also, that it came very hard upon him, for he had got a motion- paper to hand in, but, somehow or other, he had been prevented doing so, for the motion paper was carried out of his hands, and got rid of by a side-wind. } I have gone into these st sop because they formed a portion of my legaleducation; for, having expressed a wish to get an insight into the practice of the Courts, I was invited by Mr. BaLpERDasH to accompany him occasionally during his attendance in Westminster Hall. He advised me to take copious notes when Ihad the opportunity, and I therefore did so; but not being skilled in short-hand writing, my note- book presented a strange jumble, for I could only follow the proceedings very slowly, and catch a word or an expression here and there. I was nevertheless advised by Mr. BALDERDASH to persevere, “ For,” said he, “it will all tellin some day or other;” and as itmay “tell in” for other students as well as for myself, I give a transcript of the notes I took during one of my morning sittings. I confess 1 was not able to make much of the notes myself, but perhaps some student more acute than I was may find the following hieroglyphics, for such they now appear to me, “tell in” with some of the other information he has acquired. NOTE. Somebody called out “Jones against Tomxrns.” A Barrister said Mr. Somezopy, his leader, was not there. Several Barristers began talking at once. The usher cried out “Silence, pray, silence!” and drowned the voices of them all. Thesecond Judge from the right-hand —I don’t know his name—asked if counsel were ready in Dor against Somezopy. A Barrister said he was ready. Another Barrister said he was not ready. Five or six Barristers began to talk out loud about the Opera. The usher walked very near to them without looking at them, and roaring out “Silence, pray, silence!” pushed four or five quiet- looking persons back to the rear of the Court. Four Barristers rushed into Court, and said they were all ready in something that had just been struck out of the list. The eldest of the middle Judges said, “ Let it be restored.” A Barrister began to,speak somewhat as follows, as near as I could catch it :— “May ’t ple ye ludships, in this case plaintiff, purchaser—your lud- ships will see—he replies de injurid.” Another Counsel interrupting, “‘ My brother is in error ; it was son tort.” lst Counsel (resuming). “Well, son tort. Here we have a double plea —find in the books—bad for duplicity—Coxe lays it down that tenant at will may—” Other Counsel interrupting. “That’s not the point.” lst Judge. “This is a case of ejectment. If tenant had possession— profit by his own wrong—there is nothing in the books—We must refuse your rule.” Qnd Judge. “ Same opinion.” 3rd Judge. “I’m of—” 4th Judge. “1 concur with my brothers.” Here loud talking in the Court prevented my continuing my notes or hearing a word of anything; ro the four Judges, rising from their seats, retired. On locking round, I saw Mr. BatperpasH throwing out his arms, with a paper in his hand, and shrieking out something about “ Your ludship pleases,” when the last Judge, looking round as he quitted the Court, exclaimed, rather angrily, “ You can’t be heard, Sir; the Court has risen.” Such are the memoranda contained in my note-book of one of my first days of studentship in Westminster Hall. The report reads rather incoherently, but I have no doubt an intelligent student will fill up the gaps in such a manner as to make a most interesting case of ejectment out of the materials my note-book provides. Mr. BaLDER- DASH afterwards told me the argument was a rich display of learning and ingenuity, and the judgment one of the most beautiful pieces of lucid exposition that ever was sent forth from the Bench. It occurred to me to ask myself the question, If this is the sort of jumble my note-book gets into when their Lordships are particularly lucid, what should I be able to make of it if the Judges should happen to be rather obscure, and the argument itself somewhat more lente than that which was the subject of my first report ?

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| Secret; and the French Plays appeal to all lovers of Secrets with \ Te Secret de mon Onele. ' Square Rooms, convened by the National Philanthropic Association, is which invest their fair proportions are merely the “ production of a | poor worm.” PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI NEVER SATISFIED. q , ‘) ~ All Sih =! eS SS S\N SS \ \ WN - > Old Gent. “Goon Graciovs uz! Wuart THERE'S NO PEACE IN a. wit OraxGe-peet anp Swipes THIS LIFE.” SECRETS OF THEATRES. Every Theatre is rushing out with a Secret. Sister’s Secret. The Princess’s has a The Haymarket attracts the Million with a Wife's | JULLIEN, too, has got Un Secret, of some | relation or other. The Secrets surely will not stop here. Aunts, grandmothers, godfathers, German cousins, will all be coming out with their respective Secrets. But the only Secrets of the theatrical world are not exactly Family Secrets. We should like to ascertain who it is that orders all the pieces which are performed “ By particular and special desire.” We should like also to dive into the Secret why George Barnwell is played only on Boxing-nights—why on that night more than any other night ? We should also be especially pleased in learning the Secret why Clowns, when their dress has been pulled off at the | side-wing, rush forward and shout “ Here weare!” These are Secrets | which no historian of the stage has yet attempted to explain, and yet | the subject is well worthy of three volumes. The greatest Secret of | all, however, is the taste of the town for seeing actors in female attire. | People laugh at seeing a man in petticoats, though for the life of us| we never could discover anything funny init. The Secret is, how any | respectable actor can be induced to do it. Probably it is the painful | conviction that they cannot support the character of a gentleman, that | forces them to try the opposite extreme. FINERY, DIRT, AND DISEASE. Mr. Wak ey, as chairman of a Sanitary meeting at the Hanover reported by the Zimes to have made the following observations :— * Let any one pass through Regent Street, in the immediate neighbourhood of that meeting, and see the splendid shops in that lecality, with the wonderful displays of in- genuity which the windows exhibited. Where were the makers of these goods? In cellars, in garrets, in holes and corners, or places absolutely unfit for the occupation of human beings.” We remember an old saw which reminds young ladies that the silks We object strongly to all saws which are deficient in the quality of sharpness, and therefore have a poor opinion of the fore- going, which has no cut in it, and has totally failed even to answer the purpose of putting ladies out of conceit with their clothes. A dress is | none the worse for being made of silkworms, any more than turnips are for being raised from guano ; but it must be unpleasant to the wearers of oe and trinkets to reflect that they were manufactured in the places described by Mr. Waktey. It detracts from the comfort im- ted by a visi¢e, to consider that it has been the work of consumptive linger it takes the shine out of a bracelet, to think that it has been polished by the hand of Typhus. The idea of going about in fabrics which have been saturated with the reek of courts and alleys; in| garments which have been aired in miasma, which perhaps have had infection in them, and which possibly may not yet have it out of them, is anything but agreeable. As the higher classes must, in some way, bear the burdens of the lower, it would be better that they should ameliorate the physical condition of the poor, than continue to carry the consequences of it on their own backs. THE PAID BILL. A BALLAD OF DOMESTIC ECONOMY. O, FLING not this receipt away, Given by one who trusted thee; Mistakes will happen every day However honest folks may be, And sad it is, love, twice to pay ; So cast not that receipt away ! Ah, ves; if e’er, in future hours, When we this bill have all forgot, They send it in again—Ye powers !— And swear that we have paid it not— How sweet to know, on such a day, We’ve never cast receipts away ! A VOICE FROM THE WEATHERCOCK. Tue difficulty of understanding the Weathercock has at all times been severely felt by ourselves ; but the people at the Royal Exchange have driven us almost to despair by the erection of an arrangement of the most alarmingly hieroglyphical character. We defy any one but the Wizard of the North to tell whether the wind is in that or any other quarter, if he guides himself by nothing but the Royal Exchange Weathercock. ‘There is something pointedly impertinent in the arrow, | which seems so ambiguous in its aim, that, as the old poet hath it, “Save the mark” if we can tell what it may be driving at. However intelligible the odd complication of the Weathercock may | be to the initiated, we think the public at large is entitled to some little consideration, and we have therefore to propose the addition of some signs by which the weather may be understood by the ordinary observer, who may be thus enabled to adapt his costume to the changes there may be reason to anticipate. We can understand the nautical ex- ression of its being about to “blow great guns,” which, in the landsman’s | anguage, would be interpreted into “blowing great coats,” and this state | of the wind could easily be indicated by a dreadnought appended to one of the arms of the Weathercock. The gentle zephyr could be appropriately | shown by a four-and-ninepenny gossamer; or a pair 0 ants.” would perhaps he still more appropriate to its delicate pantings. ‘or rainy and sunny quarters, there ought to be an umbrella and a para- sol, which would complete the four quarters to which the wind is in the habit of veering. Printed by William Bradburv. of No. 6, York Place, Stoke Newington, and Frederick Mullett } Printers, at | Evans, of No. 7, Church Row, Stoke Newington, both in the County of Middlesex, their Office, in Lombard Street, in the Precinct of Whitefriars, in the City of Lordon, and Pub- lished by them, at No. 85, Fleet Street, in the Parish of St. Bride, in the City of London.— Satunpay, Fesavany ith, 1548. “summer |

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 55 THE WEAR AND TEAR OF TREATIES. Tue Gallic Cock lately has been behaving in a sad dunghill fashion, trampling upon treaties as if they were so much dirt, and tearing romises to rags and tatters, just as if each one of them was nothing better than the Charte. However, he struts about none the less proudly for it, and crows just as lustily as ever. If anything, he is proud of what he has done. Cocks, proverbially, have no regard for jewels. sor, and other historians who have dealt in fables, have proved this Cockish indifference for what is bright and peerless. Now, a good name is a jewel. Fair play is a jewel. Honour is another, though it is one but rarely found in a king’s crown. These jewels, however, possess but little charm in the eyes of the Gallic Cock. He picks them up, keeps them suspended for a while, wonders what they can be, and a drops them in the mud, as things too worthless to retain. The treaty with App-EL-Kaper has been thrown aside exactly in this fashion. At the next sale of Unredeemed Pledges by Macuin and DEBENHAM, we should not wonder to see figure amongst the “ ve rare” Lots, “THe Worp or Lovis-PHitirre To ABD-EL-KADER.” What pawnbroker, however, would be rash enough to advance ever so little upon it, unless to sell it again amongst little bits of cracked china, the great value of which seems to consist in proportion to the number of pieces into which it is broken. If kings were obliged, like certain servants, “to pay for everything they broke,” no fortune, not even — of, Lovis-Pumuere in American banks, could possibly stand the outlay ! Tuam’s Dustman. “THE only legitimate Dustmen” is a legend surrounding a medal shown at Christmas time by certain scavengers. We propose that the curate of St. Jarlath’s be recompensed by Conciliation Hall with a similar piece of plate. Dr. M‘Hate was in arrears of his poors-rates. He was scandalously abused for the default; when lo! his curate—the curate of St. Jarlath—comes forward and takes the blame upon him- self. “The payment had been left to him, and he had forgotten it.” And, after this apology, Dr. M‘Hate stands sweet and clean in the nostril and eye of the world! And after ¢his apology, ought not the curate’s medal to bear the words “Scavenger and Dustman to the ARCHBIsHOr OF Tuam?” For has he not cleaned the lion of his dirt, by coming down with the dust ? “Respectability” in Ireland. A wRrITER in the Dublin Evening Packet says of the late Mr. WaLpRon :— ‘*The deceased has been some time on his keeping to avoid arrest, and though an improvident, he was a highly-respectable gentleman of good fortune, but by no means remarkable for his observance of law or good morais.’’ ep seepeeiiy (in Ireland) consists in being above the law, and out of sight of good morals. A HINT FOR THE COURT NEWSMAN. Everyzopy knows for whom the Court Circular is concocted. The domestic details of Royalty are devoured by old maids in the country. While the merchant dives into the records of the Sharemarket, and the shopkeeper skims the list of prices, the ancient virginity of our — > tea, puts on the spectacles, and settles down to enjoy its bit of regal gossip. Now all this is higkly proper. Punch does not quarrel with the newspapers for printing intelligence so pleasant to their readers. Punch is not angry with the maiden aunts for being greedy of this news; and, supposing a number of rural females to pant daily for such information, Punch sees no reason why the penny-a-liners should not recount: how many men per diem go through Temple Bar carrying umbrellas, and the colour of the whiskers of each of them. But what Punch 1s dissatisfied with, is the meagreness of the particulars inserted in the Court Circular. So incomplete, indeed, are some accounts, that one_ might almost while reading them, begin to imagine that Kings and Queens eat, sleep, and walk about just like other mortals ; whereas, the most ordinary day at the Palace, when properly chronicled, is replete with interest, especially to juveniles, whose notions are derived from the popular ballad, in which it is remarked that “the king was in his chamber counting out his money.” The pon mind would glow with loyalty were but the pomps of monarchy properly delineated ; and why not then have PUNCH’S COURT CIRCULAR. Windsor, February 30. Tue Queen and her Royal Consort took an early walk this morning. Her Magsesty was attired in her usual walking costume, wearing the train of royal ee and the British crown, and carrying the sceptre and golden ball. The Prince wore a field-marshal’s uniform beneath his robes as Chancellor of Cambridge. The royal couple were attended by a squadron of the Scotch Greys, and as Her Masesty passed the ee to the kitchen-garden, the head gardener had the honour of an audience. After breakfast the Prince Consort enjoyed the sport of shooting in the royal preserves. His Royal Highness duly returned to the Castle for luncheon, at which repast Her Masesty and the royal family were present. A magnificent collation was laid out, consisting, as usual, of ancient masters. In the afternoon, the younger branches of the royal family were taken out for an airing in the state carriage drawn by seventeen horses. The Prince or Wates was _habited in the splendid costume attached to the Duchy of Cornwall, remarkable for being wholly composed of tin plates from the mines. The royal infants wore pointed steel boots of the 15th century. Lorp Joun Russet had the honour of an interview with Her Masesty. He was arrayed in his customary court dress, a suit of burnished brass armour, being the costume of a premier of the time of Ecpert. The noble lord remained at the Castle for dinner, which was of the ordinary every-day description, covers being laid for two-hundred- and-fifty, and Her Masesry partaking of the banquet sitting on her throne and apparelled in the royal robes. In the evening the QuEEN inspected a present lately arrived from the Rance of Bungybang for the Prince or Wats. It consisted of a magnificent bedstead and bedding to match; the palliasse and pillows are stuffed with diamonds. Her Masesty was graciously pleased to approve of the intention of the heir-apparent to use this article of furniture in future; so that we may announce, on the very highest authority, that the Prince will discard his usual bedstead, the sheets of which are composed of bank-notes. The QuEEN remained up until a late hour in the Treasury rooms, and was employed in counting out the quarter’s revenue and the assessed taxes. “Post” Donkeys. Tue Post thus speaks of the Manchester Free Trade meeting. It is very noble, very convincing writing :— «In this herd of donkeys, the bray of the Vice-President of the Board of Trade appears to have been the longest, and that of Mr. Coppen was probably the loudest. The whole affair was utterly disgraceful to persons walking on two legs and pretending to the exercise of rational faculties.” Well, if Messrs. Grsson and Conpen are condemned by the people of the Post as donkeys, they have at least this melancholy satisfaction— they are tried Ly their peers. ONE MORE USE OF CHLOROFORM. We recommend Chloroform to the notice of Poor-Law Guardians, on account of what they will doubtless consider the desirable influence which the substance is capable of exerting on relieving officers—that of rendering them utterly devoid of feeling. double-gilt gingerbread and sugarplums coloured after designs of the , VOL, XIV. G

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56 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. THE COMING COMET. HERE are few of our readers aware _ that a Comet is going to visit us this year. He has been due ever since 1556. What he has been doing since that period, our ADAMS and JEvER- RIERS do not tell us. e must be very slow in travelling, and we always thought that Comets came quicker than grey hairs or railway misfortunes. Probably he has | been taking the round of the zodiac, stopping at every sign, and enjoying himself at every astrological house where there was a drop or a cloud to be had. However, he is on the road at last, and we are to expect him some time this year, though we are not told the precise month. This is awkward, for we should adapt our clothing accordingly; for who would wish to receive a Comet in a great-coat? As for ourselves, if he does come, we think we had rather that he dropt in upon us in winter than in summer. This cold weather is just the thing for him. We might dispense with coals, and butchers would be able to sell their joints ready cooked; but a Comet in the dog-davs really would be a little too much. Persons would be flocking to Vesuvius for a cool spot ; salamanders even would complain of the heat; and the Oriental lub would be obliged to dispense with its usual allowance of Cayenne epper. ’ it seems that this great Comet is to be the avant-courier to announce the arrival of some tremendous person. He is only a special engine sent on in advance to tell us to look out for a long train of events more or less filled with accidents. We do not believe a word of this; the same thing was said of the “Coming Man.” He was to set all Europe in a blaze, and yet his shadow has not been seen up to the present moment, though the longest-sighted politicians have been looking out for him for years with their mental telescopes, and advertising and shouting for him everywhere. It will be time enough to run when the Comet comes, like Lorp ELLesmeRE when the French invade us—till then, we shall believe in the one as much as the other. If the Comet stops amongst us, we hope to goodness he will take up his residence in Trafalgar Square. e know of no better place for him. He could quench his thirst with the two little basins—just a sip, a nice morning drain for him—and he could exercise himself by running up and down the Nelson Column. It would be refreshing, ake, to see how much the place was improved after his visit. In this way the Comet may turn out to be the greatest architect London has ever had since the Great Fire of London. If he comes in this light, we will be the first to shout Welcome! and to hold up his tail. Till this happy advent, we promise to keep an eye, mental as well as bodily, upon his movements, and to give our readers the very earliest informa- tion of his expected arrival, besides a long Catalogue Ruisonnée of what the Comet will do, and what he will not do. In the mean time, we do not mind saying— Luvis-Putrrrr, beware !” INGLIS—CHURCH—CONSTITUTION. WE were surprised and more than equally delighted, on the re- q ) R assembling of Parliament, to see Str Ropert InGuis in the enjoyment | of excellent health. We had been led to expect the reverse. It was currently reported among the Clubs (where do people expect to go who circulate such rumours ?) that Sir RoBERT was so oppressed by the conviction that the Church was gone the moment a Jew trod the floor of the Commons, that his frank and happy spirits had sunk, and his health visibly declined. With the full belief that the Church was annihilated, and that the earth would open somewhere near the Minories—so soon as Baron Rortuscuitp should take his seat—it was confidently reported that Sir Rosert had refused all food (save and except the thinnest ham sandwich per diem), in the conviction that England was no longer worth living in. Another rumour declared that Str Ropert’s hatter had received orders to fit the worthy baronet’s beaver with a small bag of ashes; and another averred that Sm Roserv’s tailor had measured him for a suit of sackcloth, with a fancy horse-hair waistcoat ! What is our happiness, then, to give these more than idle, these malig- nant reports, the most vehement contradiction? Srr Roert, on the | opening of Parliament, never looked better, blither. It is true he pre- |sented petitions from several places, both against the Jews and the | Catholics ; but his hand did not tremble; his lip did not quiver; he did | not, by any gesture, betray the anxiety of a son with his mother Church in danger—the grief of a patriot, with the Constitution of his country about to fall to pieces. There can be no doubt that, directly Rotnscuttp takes his seat, the whole country will go with a crash. Nevertheless, like some late idlers on the Serpentine, Srr Ropert walks and smiles, albeit the Constitu- tion—like yielding ice—is cracking under him. THE BEADLE’S DREAM. I wap a beat whereon the laziest brute Might find repose, A pound a week and every year a suit Of bran-new clothes ; A brass-nobb’d cane, a hat with gold-laced band Of breadth extreme, A coat whose capes were numerous and grand. It was a dream ! T had a seat on which to blow a cloud, corner snug ; A daily pint of half-and-half allow’d, In your own jug. My dinner in a basin brought each day ; And, joy supreme! For beating mats and carpets eztra pay. lt was a dream ! THE MODEL SPONGE. As the dinner-hour strikes, the Sponge knocks at the door. Some- times he brings a bag of filberts with him. The host thanks him, and roduces sundry bottles of his best port. Sometimes he sends a hare. Te knows that the first rule of society is, that whoever sends a hare is | necessarily invited to dinner. Sometimes it is a box for the play, The | result is always the same. The Sponge knows all the secret springs of the heart and the stomach (they too frequently lodge together), which, ever so slightly touched upon, draw out a gratuitous dinner. His | conversation, too, is got up as neatly as himself. His fronts are richer | than those of Regent Street. His jokes, also, are beautifully dressed. | His scandal (for the ladies) is always of the newest cut, and his anec- | dotes fit as if they had been measured expressly for the company. He | leaves early. He has a tea in the neighbourhood—a dear friend who is ill. He does not stop long, however, for he recollects he knows a hot supper just close by. He carves—his manceuvres with the knife and fork exercise, in fact, are perfect—helps everybody to a wing, and a nicety, and does not forget the old proverb which says, that he who wishes to be helped in this world must, first of all, help himself. He goes home with a stranger, and breakfasts with him. He remembers, however, about two o’clock, that he has business in the City. His visit occurs, curiously enough, just at luncheon time. He is invited “to pick a bone,” and devours a chicken. “The air of the City is so bracing.” His appetite is most accommodating. Its range seems to exceed even that of SoyEr’s kitchen at the Reform Club. He likes everything. Cold meat does not daunt him. A large family does not terrify him. Saturday, however, is the day of the week he likes the least. It is the day of hashes, of make-shifts, of pickles, bread-pudding, and liver and bacon. Sunday is his grand be but he gives the preference of his society to those houses which do not involve a walk, or acab, or an omnibus home. At his own house he is—but here we must drop the Sponge, for we would not go home with him for any price. | We cannot fancy a Sponge sponging upon himself; the sight would be |awful. To be properly appreciated, the Sponge must be seen at other | persons’ tables. He is the gentleman-greengrocer who attends dinners, and waits at evening-parties without the fee.

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 57 THE ELASTIC BABY: JUMPER. Att the babies are up in arms at the new machine called the Baby Jumper, in which every parent may “ swing up a child in the way he should go,” or suspend him by a hook in the ceiling to keep him out of mischief. We, however, do not see why the infant population should enjoy the exclusive privilege or penalty— whichever it may be—of getting themselves imto full swing by means of the new apparatus, which might, we think, be applied with advantage to a variety of purposes. To the chairman at a public meeting, the Baby Jumper would be of infinite service, for it would enable him to advance into the midst of the assembly from time to time; and it would also place him in an appropriate position as a person presiding over a multitude, for he could be suspended above their heads by means of the new invention. As a method for facilitating the embarking or disembarking of steam- boat passengers, the Baby Jumper would be found of great value at the various wharves, and would obviate the risk run by the public in taking those terrific leaps that are sometimes necessary in the hurried transit between the shore and the steam-boat. Arithmetical Questions. | GRAND DISCOVERY.—IRELAND’S REAL DISORDER. Suita makes Brown (of Hampstead) the following bet. That he | Ar last it has been discovered what is the matter with Ireland. It (B.) will not find a single man in his senses to accomplish the following | has long been felt that the Irish people are unable to take care of task :—To read the debates through, House of Lords and all, regularly | themselves. Everybody has perceived that there must be something every day, and to state at the end of the session what he recollects | ° A ty a nation =—— OWS in of the wy countries tn the about them. The papers are to be supplied to him gratuitously, and he | World to run to waste. We must all have remarked a certain strange- is to be allowed to skip the speeches of the Irish Members, What | 2€SS 12 a population which, whilst labouring under the severest, distress, chance has Brown of winning? and express the result, if any, in vulgar | has contrived to subscribe, on an average, some hundred pounds a-week fractions. ‘4 ‘ sass ~~ |to the Repeal rent. A peculiar incoherence has always characterised Given, the Bill for Sanitary Reform. Required, to find the clause | the eloquence of Irish agitators. ‘Their persistency in ignoring the that relates to the City of London. | grant of ten millions, and railing against the British Government for its If Bettamy cooks 50 chops, 23 steaks, and sells 29 tumblers of | apathy, towards their countrymen, must have been viewed as an mixed puneh, whilst Mr. Hupsoy is addressing the House, how many | €X¢essive singularity. In short, most of us must have at times sus- ‘ tl ected that the Lrish were out of their wits. All doubt on this subject does he sell when Mx. Josera Hume is speaking t ‘ | os now been dispelled by their own leading journal, the Nation. Ser Calculate the number of times that Mr. BroruEertTon has moved the SD y the 5 J 2 adjournment of the debates at twelve o’clock. contemporary, in a recent article, after stating that “the Navan Board State the difference between a speech and an argument. of Guardians, like true men, have taken land, and are resolved to sustain ‘ . ; , - > ” Sm State the number of useful measures which have been carried by | their poor by the free work of their own hands,” thus proceeds : ; Parliament before they had been previously agitated outside the House. Pe. waging on » Gusnfians ¢ ie por baw semety af fetine cunt - - + 4 - ie ic O save the lives delivered into el ping, Ww “) a it takes an able-hodied man an hour and a half to w alk from the lunatic asylums of Limerick, Carlow, Maryborough, Dublin and Clonmel, are in a Aldgate Pump to the Man-in-the-Moon at Chelsea, how long would it great meusure supported by the produce of the industry of the inmates.” take him to get through one of Dr. M‘Hatz’s letters; and do you ae al ‘ , think he would do it any the quicker if he took a cab? All other plans to render the Irish industrious have failed: the Which is the greater, the distance between Bath and Jericho, or | discipline of a lunatic asylum has answered. Let the Nation vouch for Lorp BrovuGHaM and the Whigs? — at Si seule seine aieai cal 2 ne Clonmel Asylum is really a model in its way, of what an industrial school is, or | sare pry te eeches 1 requisite > spe “ en 5 d th ought to be. The poor inmates at the asylum are taught to labour at the lands, to q blu a a fhe ou ya os to b er 0 on pape p+ “pg h 1€ i plough, dig, sow, and reap crops, to weave their own cloth, and to make of this cote an ue-DOOKS at are ordered to be printed; and tell uS how OIten @ | theclothes they wear. Beautifully laid out grounds, and or é plantations, taken Stilton cheese that weighs 23/4s. 1002. will go into one of the latter. care of by persons who, were they outside the walls, would be unabie to take care of 19s. 63d. is deducted from the National Debt one year, and themselves.” £2,000,000 added to it the next, and these additions and corrections are| So now at length we know how to manage Ireland. The truth is, we Pa Fp py fifty years, how long will it take before the National Debt — put a aaa proper — We — eee! yo er 1s paid olf f | and transfer Dr. Connotty from Hanwell to Dublin Castle. ‘The title Given: The Committee’s Report on the Game Laws.—Required: | of Lord Lieutenant must be exchanged for that of Lord Keeper; that of To find the result of it. |L.L. for M.D. Physicians, aad of soldiers, must be sent to the = = —_— | disturbed districts, which must be tranquillised, not with powder and ball, but with sedative medicines. Special Commissioners must be The Arms of the See of Manchester. Commissioners de lunatico inguirendo. The Repeal Association must Tue College of Arms has done the handsome thing by the new | be put in strait-waistcoats,"and the head of Joun O’ConneELL must be Bisnor or Mancuester, and has fitted him up with a very significant | shaved to begin with, and kept_so as long as he continues to ramble article. As the Arms have been altogether falsely described by our | #bout dying on the floor of the House. ARcHDEACON Larran must be contemporaries, we are the more earnest that the error should be | 8¢¢2 to, and the Lion or THE Foup or Jupan shut up. The Irish are corrected. The Arms may be thus technically described: “Or on a| clearly incapable of managing their own affairs; and the Nation has pale of spikes,” (to show how difficult it sometimes may be to climb | shown how it is possible to manage their affairs for them. into a om oy ie —_ ye ee of ange proper,” one ot : ——— ————— episcopacy 1s altogether above gold); “a cotton pod,” (to mark | x humility ; for, whereas all pA Bishops wear bios sleeves, the, Salt-Petre Enthusiasm. aout han MancuesTeEr will always appear in calico); and “‘a square; Mr, Picov—that tremendous blank-cartridge—denies that he is shield, charged with a factory chimney proper, with this motto—Zr | influenced by a wish to sell his gunpowder, when he presses for Sumo dare gingham. | national defence. And for this reason :— “‘ The Ordnance contracts are now conducted with so strict a regard to economy, that SICILIAN PRESENTS. | it is doubtful if the merchant gains any advantage from them. The terms at present are Lerten Hunt at Christmas gave the world a delicious Jar of Hon ey | just one-half those of the last war, the materials and labour quite us costly.”” from Sicily. The Sicilians have evidently taken the hint; and, sinking! Thus the merchant deals, not for money, but for love! Who could the honey, have presented their monarch with a Jar of Whacks. (Oh!) | have thought there had been such a Christian element in gunpowder ?

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THE SHADE OF JENKINS | 53 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL. | =| IN A PASSION. LABLACHE i \\\ : Sen, meee | _ _Hap we not been recently confirmed in our belief of supernatural | visitations by Mrs. Crowr’s Wight-side of Nature, we should neverthe- less have felt convinced of a late visit of JenxKrns to the office of the Morning Post. “ Jenxiys from the Shades!” This intelligence—though not so written—is, every letter of it, implied in a tremendous leading article hurled at the Italian beggar-boys—the mendicant minstrels. The article has all the strength and elasticity of the footman’s cane—all the brilliancy of its gold top. JeNKrINS never drove a beggar from the door-step—never, borrowing the coachman’s whip, “ cut behind ”—-with greater energy than he last week exhibited in the bruising, flagellating article aforesaid. Next to our admiration of the superhuman foree—the more than apne indignation of the philippic—is our wonder that JENKINS could e made so wroth against Italian minstrelsy, even when reduced to the streets, and keeping company with green monkeys or white mice. | But we presume that, in proportion to his protecting admiration of the Italian big boys of Her Masesty’s Opera, is his disgust of the little Italian rascals of Her Mavsesty’s streets. LasLAcHE’s organ is a) thing to worship—little Gracomo’s grinder a nuisance, to smash! | Pointing his snaky forefinger at the Italian vagrants, JENKINS asks, as | Festus says—in a voice of “ buttered thunder ”— “If they think it is not worth their while to work for themselves, pray are we not | justified in thinking it not worth our while to work for them ? How can they blame us | for not doing for them that which they Will not do for themselves? Are we, then, to be | their slaves ?” | There is something thrillingly awful in the interrogation? Some- | thing tremendously humiliating in the notion it conveys. ‘‘ What !” exclaims the shade of Jenkins, speaking for every living Englishman, ‘will you be no better than the white mice—sorchi bianchi—that the lazzaroni carry in their cages? Will you be traded upon?” And then he asks, in good bold type, of his old friends the Italian minstrels— “Are they to live in idleness, and ease, and sloth, a burden to their fellow-creatures, while we toil, and sweat, and plan, and consume at once the daily sun anv the mid- night lamp for their sustenance and pleasure ?’’ How grand—indeed, how very, very sublime is this question! Imagine JENKINS “ consuming” the daily sun; and, a¢ once and the same time, the ‘‘ midnight lamp ;” thus consuming the sun as folks consume a salad —with plenty of oil to it. The Morning Post is famous for its fashionable intelligence ; but this—as chronicled by JENKins—is a most extraordinary movement in high-life; a movement, too, distinguished by wondrous condescension. Only think of the “ daily sun” paying a visit to the “ midnight lamp!” Jenkuys here makes both ends meet as by miracle. JENKINS CONSUMING THE “ DAILY sUN” aND “ MIDNIGHT LAMP.” ; * Casenass 204g eww? eecnrocawwre guubee £4, aw? wramae i-eagere Srnrwctenserwsan geen 2 QNV VAL NMO WNOX ANIA NOX GNV ‘WONNV Wad SANNOd AINTAML AC OL SI—AVS AINOHY - | giana ah “AXNOW SSHI UOT LI TIA TIM - A. mae enn ea eee eee OU ee eee Ee | 6, ee Oe

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A SPLENDID OPENING FOR A YOUNG MEDICAL MAN. Chairman, “WELL, YOUNG MAN. SO YOU WISH T0 BE ENGAGED AS Parisn Doctor?” Doctor, “Yes, GENTLEMEN, I aM DESIROUS——” Chairman, “An! Exactty. Wett—It’s UNDERSTOOD THAT YOUR WAGES—SALARY I SHOULD sAY—IS TO BE TWENTY POUNDS PER ANNUM; AND YOU FIND YOUR OWN TEA AND | | SUGAR—MEDICINES I MEAN—AND, IN FACT, MAKE YOURSELF GENERALLY USEFUL, Ir you DO YOUR DUTY, AND CONDUCT YOURSELF PROPERLY, WHY—AH—YOU—AH—— (Punch. “‘W1LL PROBABLY BE BOWLED OUT OF YOUR SITUATION BY SOME HUMBUG, WHO WILL FILL IT FOR LESS MONEY,” ]

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\| Oy Sere ee Oe a ee eS ee ee hihi Opt Sate cae |

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL 61 PUNCH’S POEMS OF PARLIAMENT. “HOW WE GOT RID OF OUR OLD CAPTAIN.” Q Cale of the Protectionist Wars. (As told by an oid Country-party Trooper to his Children, a.D. 1890.) REMEMBER it? Right well, I trow, that sorry forty-eight, The year our famous Captain was forced to quit his state ; I see him yet, girt by the troop, when each face wore a frown, Brow-beaten but not baffled—cut up, but not cast down. Aye—Lorp GreorcE—he was a Captain—why, with his single hand, *>Gainst a battering train of argument, unarm’d, he’d make a stand ; On his good steed, ‘‘ Native Industry,” he’d charge the Leaguer’s van, And if his petronel hung fire, with the butt he’d floor his man. Then to see him work his great guns—to the muzzle ramming in Whatever charge came handiest—lead, copper, brass, or tin; And “Blaze away! my boys,” he’d say, as the smoke wax’d hot and thick ; ee: “Only give ’em plenty of it, and I’ll warrant some will stick.” And if a piece burnt priming—no matter what was in’t, : He’d cry “ Blow in her touch-hole, while I down her muzzle squint.” He never cared for the recoil, tho’ it floor’d our bombardiers, Or burst the gun and rattled down the battery ’bout our ears. When short of shot and powder, he’d cry “Boys, ne’er look blue ; If we can’t lay hands upon a fact, we ’ll make a fiction do!” Fighting was fighting under him ; for, egad! one didn’t know If one’s firing was more dangerous to one’s self, or to the foe. I remember, as ’twere yesterday, when CoppEn, Vituiers, Bricut, Drew out the canting crop-eared sons of Free-Trade for the fight. Till forty-six we had held the knaves pent up in Lancashire, But at last they gather’d head and march’d upon our lines that year. We still had langh’d to scorn their League of prating pamphleteers, But that PEEL sow’d treason broadcast ’mong our trusty cavaliers : For four long years he tampered with the Captains of our host, Till, save Lorp GeonrGe’s trusty troop, a traitor held each post. No shame that he and his true men were forced at last to flee, For, to give the rascal League their due, they laid on lustilie ; And Quaker Bricut, in that same fight, down on our rearward bore, For a man of peace, most marvellous like to a man of war. But tho’ beaten, still we kept the field for that year and the next, And with many a dashing foray, the crop-eared Leaguers vext ; Our hold was theirs; but many a fort we kept, and castle stout, Whence the British Lion on our flag blew broad and bravely out. And the West Indian Interest, breathing vengeance on Free Trade, Their swart and sallow company beneath our flag array’d, From their isles of palm and sugar-cane, sons of the buccaneers To cry, “Stand and deliver!” to their English customeres. And the sturdy British ship-owner his cutlass keen did draw, To strike a good stroke for high freights, and the Navigation Law; And Mother Church she bless’d us, in the name of glebe and tithe, And our numbers gather’d daily, and our chief look’d bold and blithe. We had for our Lieutenant one of the tribe of Ben, Who, in an evil hour to us, for the sword laid down the pen. We loved him not, though forced to own that none, at point of steel, In rapier and dagger-fight, so breathed the traitor PEEL. He led our noble chief astray, unto his foul disgrace, With talk of Asian Mystery, and the Caucasian race ; Till, Mother Church left in the lurch, from bad to worse he grew, And held the hand of fellowship out to the unholy Jew. Oh! wail and woe were ours, I trow, when Protection’s noblest son Shook hands with Baron RotuscHitp and SHERIFF SALOMON; When we heard he ’d purchased a buff-coat of Moss’ hated line, And countermanded leg-of-pork, with his new friends to dine. ** Choose ” was the shout, “another out, to lead Protection’s band; Down with this son of BetraL! We strip him of command. Our fealty ends! To thy new friends.” So out from his true men Went forth Lorp Groree, our Captain, and his Lieutenant Brn. Leave me awhile, my children, I ne’er recall that day But I forget our cause is lost, and that my head is grey: He was our chief—the first, the last—where else were we to find That recklessness of reason, that stableness of mind ? Ours was a desperate cause, I ween, and needed desperate men; We turn’d our whole ranks over, but found no Lorp Gzoree again. All had their silly scruples, there was none like our lost Lord, Who ne’er doubted of his weapon, and ne’er knew when he was floor’d. None that rode o’er facts and figures as he was wont to ride; None that trampled Reason underfoot, when she refused to guide; None reckless how he damaged friends, so he the foe might stay ; None that from every drubbing but rose up the more gay; None that could raise an army of statistics cut and dry, In the cramming of a pamphlet, in the course of a reply ; None that no rebuke could silence, and no exposure shame ; None, in a word, so fit to fight Protection’s losing game ! AFFECTING INCIDENT. WE have all heard of certain wonderful effects of instinct, by which parents and offspring have recognised each other, as if by the intuition of nature, though they have no recollection of meeting before. Many of us have marked the magnificent burst of passionate recognition with which the heavy man at the Surrey has sprung towards the only acknowledged victim of unmerited everything, with a shriek of ‘ My long-lost daughter!” answered by a scream of “‘ My father, who I thought sleeping long ago under the bolster and two pillars of Hercuzs, have I found thee at last ?”? This, in its way, is affecting enough, and we have often been moved by it—out of the theatre where it was pits on; but it is not half so pathetic, and scarcely more dramatic a little incident we heard of as having happened the other day at the steam-hatching esta- blishment of the ingenious Mr. CanteLo. A chicken, which had just been brought into existence, was seized with an instinctive conscious- ness of having been indebted for its birth to steam, and seeing a tea- kettle on the boil upon an adjacent hob, rushed towards it with all the ardent affection of a child for its parent, and, clinging desperately to its spout, refused to be torn away. The kettle, trembling with emotion even to the top of its lid, began singing in tones half of tenderness and half of agony, until it seemed full even to bursting, and, avec explosion, as the French dramatists have it, let fall its hot tears on the head of the chicken, as if in gentle recognition of the relationship the latter had claimed. Of course this violent piece of pathos was the death of the poor chicken, whose remains were, by Mr. Canrexo’s humane direc- tions, immediately placed in a shell and removed. TRAVELS IN LONDON. A NIGHT’S PLEASURE. ook at that old Greek in the cloak and fur collar opposite,” said my friend Mr. Grice. “ That chap is here every night. They call him Lorp Farirosu. He has five glasses of whisky- and-water every night—seven- teen - hundred - and -twenty-five goes of alcohol in a year; we totted it up one night at the bar. James the waiter is now taking number three to him. He don’t count the wine he has had at dinner.” Indeed, James the waiter, knowing the gentleman’s oe, as soon as he saw R. Barpotrn’s glass nearly empty, brought him another noggin and a jug of boiling water without a word. Memory carried me instan- taneously back to the days of my youth. I had the honour of being at school with Barpotrr before he went to Brazennose; the under boys used to look up at him from afar off, as at a godlike being. He was one of the head boys of the school; a prodigious dandy in pigeon-hole trowsers, ornamented with what they called “‘ tucks” in front. He wore a ring, leaving the little finger, on which he wore the jewel, out of his pocket, in which he carried the rest of his hand. He had whiskers even then; and to this day I cannot understand why he is not seven feet high. When he shouted out “ Under boy!” we small ones trembled and came to him. I recol- lect he called me once from a hundred yards off, and I came up ina tremor. He pointed to the ground. “Pick up my hockey-stick,” he said, pointing towards it with the hand with the ring on. He had dropped the stick. He was too great, wise, and good, to stoop to pick it up himself. He got the silver medal for Latin Sapphies, in the year Pooram was gold medallist. When he went up to Oxford, the Head-Master, the

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62 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. | Rev. J. Firszer, complimented him in a valedictory speech, made him | a present of books, and prophesied that he would do great things at the | the Doctor read out to the sixth form with University. He had got a scholarship, and won a prize-poem, which ; J eat emotion. It was on “The Recollections of Childhood,” and the last lines were “ Qualia prospiciens catulus ferit ethera risu, Ipsaque trans lune cornua vacca salit.” I thought of these things rapidly, gazing on the individual before me. The brilliant young fellow of 1815 (by-the-bye it was the Waterloo year, by which some people may remember it better; but at school we spoke of years, as “‘ PoGRam’s year,” “ ToKELy’s year,” &c.)—there, J say, sate before me the dashing young buck of 1815, a fat, muzzy, red- faced old man, in a battered hat, absorbing whisky-and-water, and half listening to the singing. "Wy A wild, long-haired professional gentleman with a fluty voice, and with his shirt-collar turned down, began to sing as follows :— “WHEN THE GLOOM IS ON THE GLEN,” “* When the moonlight’s on the mountain And the gloom is on the glen, At the cross beside the fountain There is one will meet thee then. At the cross beside the fountain; | Yes, the cross beside the fountain, There is one will meet thee then! | [Down goes half of Mx. Banpoten’s No. 3 Whisky during this refrain. eS , measure at the conclusion of the song, wishing, “T have braved, since first we met, love, Many a danger in my course ; But I never can forget, love, That dear fountain, that old cross, Where, her mantle shrouded o’er her— For the winds were chilly then— First I met my LEonora, When the p Bam was on the glen. Yes, I met my, &c. (Another gulp and almost total disappearance of Whisky-go, No. 3. “Many a clime I’ve ranged since then, love, Many a land I’ve wandered o’er; But a valley like that glen, love, Half so dear I never sor! Ne’er saw maiden fairer, coyer, Than wert thou, my true love, when In the gloaming first I saw yer, In the gloaming of the glen! ” Barpoirn, who had not shown the least symptoms of emotion as the entleman with the fluty voice performed this delectable composition, Gon to whack, whack, whack on the mahogany with his pewter rhaps, to show that the noggin was empty; in which manner James, the waiter, interpreted the signal, for he brought Mz. Barpotru another supply of liquor. The song, words, and music, composed and dedicated to CHARLES Brvins, Esquire, by Freperic Snare, and,ornamented with a picture | of a young lady with large eyes and short petticoats, leaning at a stone cross by a fountain, was now handed about the room by a waiter, and po gentleman was at liberty to purchase it for half-a-crown. The man did not offer the song to BarpoLpu; he was too old a hand. After a pause, the president of the musical gents cried out for silence again, and then stated to the company that Mr. Horr would sing “‘ The Red Flag,’ which announcement was received by the Society with immense applause, and Mr. Horr, a gentleman whom I remember to have seen exceedingly unwell on board a Gravesend steamer, began the following terrific ballad :— “THE RED FLAG.” ** Where the quivering lightning flings His arrows from out the clouds, And the howling tempest sings, And whistles among the shrouds, Tis pleasant, ’tis pleasant to ride Along the foaming brine— Wilt be the Rover’s bride ? Wilt follow him, lady mine ? Hurrah ! For the bonny, bonny brine. * Amidst the storm and rack, You shall see our galley pass, As a serpent, lithe and black, Glides through the waving grass; As the vulture, swift and dark, Down on the ring-dove flies, You shall see the Rover’s bark Swoop down upon his prize. Hurrah ! For the bonny, bonny prize. “Over her sides we dash, We gallop across her deck— Ha! there’s a ghastly gash On the merchant-captain’s neck ! Well shot, well shot, old Nep! Well struck, well struck, black James! Our arms are red, and our foes are dead, And we leave a ship in flames ! urrah ! For the bonny, bonny flames ! ” Frantic shouts of applause and encore hailed the atrocious sentiments conveyed by Mr. Horr in this ballad, from every body except Bar- DOLPH, who sat muzzy and unmoved, and only winked to the waiter to bring him some more whisky. SPEC. WASTE OF MILITARY POWER. In these days, when our National Defences and the possibility of an invasion are the topics of conversation among people of every class, we cannot afford to waste a single military man; and every soldier is there- fore expected to be at his post during the present trying juncture. Judge then of our indignation and surprise at seeing a healthy huzzar stationed at a door in the Strand, for the purpose of showing the fidelity of his likeness, as exhibited in the frame of a painter of portraits. The oe fellow seems to belong to a sort of mongrel regiment, something etween a lancer, a light dragoon, a fencible, and a Cossack, or rather, he forms an interesting combination of all four, in his accoutrements and uniform. Our objection, however, is to the ignoble nature of the service on which he is employed, at a moment when every sword ought to leap out of its scabbard, and every soldier out of his skin—if required —for the defence of our native hearth-stones. We hope that some patriotic member of the House of Commons will move for a return of this scldier to his allegiance, and also for a copy of the furlough upon which he ventures to take leave of absence from the ordinary duties of his regiment. The gallant fellow seems to be him- self half ashamed of the nambypambyness of the service on which he is engaged; and though he has been drawn for a soldier by the artist, we are sure the trooper feels that he ought not to be “ framed for deeds of be fighting the battles of his country. Rather too Bad. Some wretched joker has sent us the following Riddles :— . When would a bed make the best hunting-ground ? . When it is made anew for rest (@ New Forest). . What trade was the man who killed Wittiam Rurvs? . A Bill-sticker. . When does a man turn fluid into metal ? KRORORO . When he makes Inquiry (ins wiry). arms” at a door in the Strand, when he might, on some foreign strand, | fon ot Jetted nee ee eee eee eee | 25.0 aie

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI 63 . Surrey,” and continued to thrash him through half-a-dozen counties, lest A CASE OF GAMMON. we might have made an error in the place where our client had become Bowms in the manner described. Having once plunged into the prac- tical, by the use of imaginary clients, we were never at a loss for material; and we soon peopled the chambers with ideal suitors, all rushing to Batpprpasu for justice, vengeance, or redress. No longer fettered by the stringent bonds of reality, the business of my friend and master grew to a tremendous extent, and the papers of which I had the run accumulated at the rate of half-a-hundred-weight per week. We drew declarations by the quire, and pleadings by the ream; we went through all the various ramifications of the replication de tujurid, with steel pens and iron hearts; we pleaded double, treble, an | quadruple, for the sake of showing our ingenuity in demurrer; and we | dipped into rebutters, so that, in the shape of surre—butters, we might | compliment each other on the shrewdness we had displayed. | In the midst of these brilliant exercises of our powers on imaginary | cases, a real motion-paper, with a real half-guinea, was one day brought lin, and the endorsement told us that Mr. BaLpERDAsH was instructed | to ask the permission of the Court of Queen’s Bench to allow his client | to take arule to compute. The morsel of Jond fide business came to us like the one real biscuit, for the principal character, amid the | theatrical banquet of pasteboard apples, wooden hams, canvas pies | worsted maccaroni, glue jellies, dimity turkeys, sarsnet sausages, an SShano3* i yi | interfere to puta stop to the cannibalism lately introduced among the | knuckles,” on “ eighty eyelids,” at “one hundred different times,” | whereby he had “from time to time, and at all times, forty discoloura- _ through ten long and elaborate counts, Mr. BaLpeRDAsH pronounced — rns “ Now, Sin, wuat can I po For you—a nice Lec or Pork ?” Tue Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals ought really to swinish multitude. It seems by a paragraph in a country paper, that pigs are being fattened _ pork—a process that the common feelings of our nature—(N.B. We have two sets of feelings, one for common and another for best use)—revolt against. There is something awful in the idea of the pigs becoming customers of the pork-butcher, and aiding in their own consumption. CHAPTER THE FIFTH. MR. BRIEFLESS CONTINUES HIS READINGS, AND DOES HIS EXERCISES FOR THE BAR, My readings with Mr. BatpeRDAsH now began to take a wider range, and we swallowed, somehow or other, nearly a volume per week, including somebody on Partnership, somebody else on Shipping, a tremendous quarto on Evidence, a couple of huge octavos on Nisi Prius, and a dashing little duodecimo on the lively subject of Bills. My head became a kind of old legal curiosity-shop, stored with cases full of the most remarkable specimens of dried-up decisions, which might well be compared to mummies, for the mummeries they seemed to comprise. Feeling that I was loaded almost to the very muzzle with legal ammunition, and fearing that I should go off with a tremendous forensic explosion, unless I was allowed to direct my learning to some aim, I requested that a practical object might be found to test the value of the cramming I had endured. I thought it pitiable that so great a gun as I believed myself to be should have no opportunity of firing away, but should sit at my desk with a quantity of blank cartridge before me, while inferior geniuses were making themselves heard by means of the Reports. I entreated Mr. BaLpErpass to let me have a real case of some kind to exercise my skill upon ; but unfortunately, in the whole of my learned friend’s large connection there was not one individual who seemed to have a turn for litigation at the period to which I allude. Not a plea, nor a declaration, nor a demurrer came in to be drawn, and we therefore raised in our minds an imaginary assault, in order that we might sympathise with a phantom plaintiff. We feel- ingly described his battery by fifty blows, whereby he suffered “forty black eyes,” inflicted with “ sixty fists,” and with “ three hundred tions ”of “sixty cheek-bones, and eighty headaches,” to “the damage of the said’ plaintiff of ninety pounds.” When we had pummelled our plaintiff in every possible manner, | our declaration to be the | poe quan of pleading for an action of! | common assault. But we had not yet done with our victim ; for, having | described the multiplicity and variety of the attacks upon him, we_ glazed red: calico lobsters, to which the subordinates are limited at the | evening party given by Lady Macbeth. Areal motion-paper appeared to us like a bottle of ginger-beer spirting up from the midst of the sands of the desert, and we hastened to regale ourselves at the refreshing fount of actual practice, after having so long been pulling away at the immense drafts of nothing, on which we bad been hitherto | employed. My first impulse, on reading the endorsement, was to tear down Jacors from the book-shelf, and look out, in that most lucid of legal lexieographers, the word “Compute.” Mr. Batperpasn checked my impatience, chided me gently for not being already acquainted with such a very elementary matter, and entered into a henner bielors of the origin, rise, and progress of the rule. He eB it up first from the sifting of a quantity of Coxe; he then washed it, if I may be allowed the expression, in a stream of Lusu,* and we ultimately carried it down to Westminster, where Mr. Batprrpasu, having duly robed and wigged for the occasion, went through the solemn ceremony of hand- ing it in. My preparation for the Bar was not limited to my readings in chambers, but I now began to do what are called exercises, with a view to my approaching call. These exercises do not task the intellectual faculties so much as may be supposed, though they are intended to serve as tests for the mentative powers and the learning of the embryo Barrister. The different Inns of Court adopt different modes of conducting what is, by a bold and pleasant fiction, regarded as a keen encounter of the wits of the candidates for forensic dignity. Two students are presumed to be prepared for engaging in a severe legal argument; which is conducted in some of the Inns before a Barrister, and in others of the Inns before a butler, supported by two mugs of beer, placed no doubt as refreshers, to invigorate the learned disputants. In Gray’s Inn, where I had the honour of first entering the lists of litigation, I was conducted with a fellow-student to a corner of the hall, where a parchment was put into the hands of each of us, and a stray Barrister, having been caught by the waiter for the pose was requested to preside over us while we did our exercise. 1 commenced reading from my parchment prompter something to the following effect :-—“‘I maintain that the widow is not barred of dower, because though her right of free-bench—” Here I was interrupted with a facetious “Oh, indeed! Very good! Quite sufficient, Sir!” from the presiding Barrister, who, turning to my opponent, asked with an phan air what he had to urge by way of objection to my position. “I maintain,’ murmured my antagonist, reading from his parchment, “that the widow never having been seised of her free-bench—’ But the presiding Barrister, with an ejaculation of ‘ You don’t say so! Quite sufficient, Sir!” put an abrupt end to the somewhat abstruse discussion. This ceremony having been repeated the required number of times, I became qualified to enter into the arena of legal discussion, in the character of an advocate. The introduction of the beer into the ceremony, at the other Inn to which I have alluded, has a curious effect; for the disputants are not allowed to get out a word before the butler, by politely observing, “The beer, gentlemen, if you please ; just clap it to your lips—you needn’t drink it—that’ll do!” nips the discussion in the bud, and cuts short the exercise. aving got thus far on my road to the Bar, the next step is the call itself; for the celebration of which, as I am expected to ask a few friends to take wine with me at the Inn, I must reserve an entire chapter. Aw UnrroritaBte Bareain.—lf “Tenant Right” is to be esta- blished in Ireland, a novel difficulty will meen the sale of Irish estates, Who will purchase the property, if he is obliged to take the fixtures P_ * The unlearned reader may, perhaps, require to be told that Lusn’s Practice is here dragged him through “ Middlesex to wit, at Westminster, videlicet in | referred to.

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| 64 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. ovis PamnepesVauenrive Tote. Ourew of Spain jie, / ————————— Gy» Lone have I mused, ere I these lines indited, dL + What best might emblem my paternal arts— 1 A Hymen mourning o’er his torch unlighted ? \ A love-knot tangled with two bleeding hearts ? The Gallic Cock over the Lion crowing ? ’ A portrait of myself cut out of flint >— But, all these thrown aside, I’m merely going To offer my dear niece a gentle hint. You ’ve learnt that royal robe has sackcloth lining ; You’ve learnt that royal crown has thorny rim ; | = You’ve learnt that royal hearts may oft be pining; And royal eyes with tears of anguish dim. And for this most invaluable lesson, As for the other blessings you enjoy, You have to thank me and the late Count Bresson ; Hear, now, how you the lesson should employ. The happiness unknown to royal station, A private life is likely to secure ; So I would just suggesi your abdication— A plan your dear mamma approves, I’m sure. ee And any trouble from this step ensuing, Monrrensier, I am sure, would not decline ; So abdicate, or—there ts mischief brewing— You’d best not trifle with your Valentine. Printed by William Bradbury, of No. 6, Yor Place, Stoke Newington, and Frederick Mullett Evans, of No. 7, Church Row, Stoke Newington, both in the County of Middlesex, Printers, at their Office, in Lombard pbs in the Preciuct of Whitefriars, in the City of Londen, and Published by them, at No. 85, Fleet Street, in the Parish of St. Bride, in the City of London.—Satunpar, Fruavanr 12th, 1348.

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 65 TRAVELS IN LONDON. A NIGHT’S PLEASURE. Wuey the piratical ballad of Mr. Horr was concluded, a simple and pee poe young gentleman performed a comic song, in a way which, must confess, inspired me with the utmost melancholy. Seated at the table along with the other professional gents, this young fellow was in nowise to be distinguished from any other young man of fashion: he has a thin, handsome, and rather countenance; and appears to be | a perfectly sober and meritorious young man. But suddenly (and [| daresay every night of his life) he pulls a little flexible grey country- | would be to have too low an opinion of human nature: to imagine that the applauses of the multitude of the frequenters of the Cave tickled his vanity or are bestowed upon him deservedly—would be, I say, to think too hardly of him. Look at him. He sits there quite a quiet orderly young fellow. Mark with what an abstracted air he joins in the chorus of Mr. Syape’s second song, ‘The Minaret’s bells o’er the Bos- phorus toll,” and having applauded his comrade at the end of the song | (as I have remarked these poor gentlemen always do) moodily resumes the stump of his cigar. ““T wonder, my dear Gricc, how many men there are in the City who | follow a similar profession to GrinsBy’s. What a number of poor rogues, wits in their circle, or bilious, or in debt, or henpecked, or otherwise miserable in their private circumstances, come grinning out | to dinner of a night, and laugh and crack, and let off their good stories . : f k man’s hat out of his pocket, and the moment he has put it on, his face ‘like yonder professional funny fellow. Why, I once went into the room assumes an expression of unutterable vacuity and folly, his eyes goggle | of that famous dinner-party conversationalist and wit, Horsetey Cot- round savage, and his mouth stretches almost to his ears, as thus :— LARD; and whilst he was in his dressing-room arranging his wig, just |looked over the books on the table before his sofa. There were |*Burton’s Anatomy’ for the quotations, three of which he let off that fl | very night; ‘Spence’s Literary Anecdotes,’ of which he fortuitously \ | introduced a couple in the course of the evening; ‘ Bakzr’s Chronicle ;’ | the last new Novel, and a book of Metaphysics, every one of which | heard him quote, besides four stories out of his common-place-book, at which I took a peep under the pillow. He was like Grinssy. Who at like GrinsBy in life? thought I to myself, examining that young ellow. “ When Bawter goes down to the House of Commons from a meeting with his creditors, and, having been a bankrupt a month before, becomes a patriot all of a sudden, ot pours you out an intensely interesting speech upon the West Indies, or the Window Tax, he is no better than that poor gin-and-water practitioner yonder, and performs in his Cave, as Grinssy in his under the Piazza. “When Serceant BLuEBAG fires into a witness, or performs a jocular or a pathetic speech to a jury, in what is he better than GrinsBy, except in so far as the amount of gain goes?—than poor GRINSBY rapping at the table and cutting professional jokes at half-a-pint-of-whisky tee ? “When Ticutrore, the celebrated literary genius, sits down to write and laugh—with the children very likely ill at home—with a strong | ersonal desire to write a tragedy or a sermon, with his wife scolding Ah im, his head racking with pain, his mother-in-law making a noise at it — | his ears and telling him that he is a heartless and abandoned ruffian, his | tailor in the passage, vowing that he will not quit that place until his little ee ae = bill is settled—when, I say, TicuTRore writes off, under the most —— i z | miserable private circumstances, a brilliant funn: article, in how much ‘is he morally superior to my friend Grinspy ? When Lorp Cotcuicum ' stands bowing and smiling before his sovereign, with gout in his toes and grief in his heart; when parsons in the pulpit—when editors at their Mn] ao ' ye , | \! | | WITHOUT HIS HAT. IN HIS COMIC HAT. and he begins to sing a rustic song. The battle-song and the sentimental ballad already published are, I trust, sufficiently foolish, and fair specimens of the class of poetry to which they belong ; but the folly of the comic country song was so great | and matchless, that I am not going to compete for a moment with the | author, or to venture to attempt anything like his style of composition. It was something about a man going acoorting Mo.Ly, and “‘feayther,” | and “kyows,” and “peegs,” and other rustic produce. The idiotic | verse was interspersed with spoken passages, of corresponding imbe- | cility. For the time during which Mr. Grinssy performed this piece, | he consented to abnegate altogether his claim to be considered as a’ reasonable being; utterly to debase himself, in order to make the | company laugh; and to forget the rank, dignity, and privileges of | | @ man. | His song made me so profoundly wretched that little Grice, re- marking my depression, declared I was as slow as a Parliamentary train. | I was glad they didn’t have the song over again. hen it was done, | Mr. Grinssy put his little grey hat in his pocket, the maniacal grin subsided from his features, and he sate down with his natural sad and rather handsome young countenance. O Graunssy, thinks I, what a number of people and things in this world do you represent! Though we weary listening to you, we may moralise over you; though you sing a foolish witless song, you poor | young melancholy jester, there is some good in it that may be had for | the seeking. Perhaps that lad has a family at home dependent on his — I may entertain a reasonable xe that he has eee in his | eart; a complete notion of the folly of the business in which he is engaged ; a contempt for the fools laughing and guffawing round about | at his miserable jokes ; and a perfect weariness of mind at their original | dullness and continued repetition. What a sinking of spirit must come | over that young man, quiet in his chamber or family, orderly and sensible | like other mortals, when the thought of tom-fool hour comes across | pag oe that at a certain time that night, whatever may be his health, | or distaste, or mood of mind or body, there he must be, at a table at the | Cave of Harmony, uttering insane ballads with an idiotic grin on his | face, and hat on his head. To suppose that Grinspy has any personal pleasure in that song | out | T, desks—forget their natural griefs, pleasures, opinions, to go through the business of life, the masquerade of existence, in what are they better than Grinsy yonder, who has similarly to perform his buffooning ?” was continuing in this moral and interrogatory mood—no doubt boring poor little Griec, who came to the Cave for pleasure, and not for philosophical discourse—Mr. Barporx opposite caught a sight of the present writer through the fumes of the cigars, and came across to our table, holding his fourth glass of toddy in his hand. He held out the other to me: it was hot, and gouty, and not particularly clean. “Deuced queer place this, hay?” said he, pretending to survey it with the air of a stranger. I come here every now and then, on my way home to Lincoln’s Inn—from—from parties at the other end of the town. It is frequented by a parcel of queer people—low shop-boys and attorneys’ clerks; but hang it, Sir, they know a gentleman when they see one, and not one of those fellows would dare to speak to me—no, not one of ’em, by Jove—if I didn’t address him first, by Jove! I don’t suppose there’s a man in this room could construe a page in the com- monest Greek book, Spec. You heard that donkey singing about * LEoNoRAR’ and ‘before her’? How FLipper would have given it to us for such rhymes, hay? A parcel of ignoramuses! but hang it, Sir, they do know a gentleman!” And here he winked at me, with a vinous bloodshot eye, as much as to intimate that he was infinitely superior to every person In the room. ; Now this Barpo.ru, having had the ill-luck to get a fellowship, and subsequently a small private fortune, has done nothing since the year 1820 but get drunk and read Greek. He despises every man who does not know that language (so that you and I, my dear Sir, come in for a fair share of his contempt). He can still put a slang song into Greek ambics, or turn a police report into the language of Tacitus or Heropotus; but it is difficult to say what accomplishment beyond this the boozy old mortal possesses. He spends nearly a third part of his life and income at his dinner, or on his whisky at a tavern; more than another third portion is spent in bed. It is past noon before he ~ up to breakfast, and to spell over the Zimes, which business of the ay being completed, it is time for him to dress and take his walk to the club to dinner. He scorns a man who puts his h’s in the wrong place, and spits at a human being who has not had a University educa- ; tion. And yet lam sure that bustling waiter pushing about with a bumper VOL. XIV. ii

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| | of cigars ; that tallow-faced young comic singer i 66 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON yonder harmless and happy Snobs, enjoying the conviviality of the evening, (and all the songs are quite modest now, not like the ribald old ditties which they used to sing in former days) are more useful, more honourable, and more worthy men, than that whiskyfied old scholar | who looks down upon them and their like. | another comic song, and [ could bear it no more. At present, a Sentry-box partakes about equally of the | Square, for instance, the Sentry- uniform might be necessary ; but this would be very easily achieved. He said he would have a sixth glass if we would stop: but we didn’t; and he took his sixth glass without us. My melancholy young friend had a The market carts were rattling into Covent Garden; and the illuminated clock marked all sorts of small hours as we concluded this night’s pleasure. Srec. REFORM YOUR SENTRY-BOXES. Tue Fine Arts have been recently applied to everything, from a palace to a| pickle-jar. Our Sentry-boxes are the only objects that look as if they belonged to the last century, rather than to the present; and these we call upon the Fine Arts Commissioners to reform. SENTRY-BOX FOR THE NEW HOUSE OF COMMONS. SENTRY TO MATCH. the sedan. _ Reformation might be applied with admirable effect to these military receptacles in which many of our gallant veterans pass at least half their days. The Sentry- | boxes should exhibit uniformity in | Style with the buildings to which they are contiguous. In Trafalgar | boxes should resemble pepper-castors, to be in keeping with the massive and dome- like mustard-pot of the National Gallery, whilst the architectural taste for the Elizabethan should be gratified as above, some slight modification of the soldier’s CHARIVARI. WHERE DOES IT ALL COME FROM? a clear and happy style how “ the variety of distant regions by which our every-day comforts and luxuries are supplied, is a geographical lesson familiar to our earliest infancy.’ Our contemporary proceeds to tell us how the child knows that the teait is drinking comes from China, that the coffee is grown by Arabs, the sugar extracted from the cane in Jamaica, or by the banks of the Ganges. And thus going cleverly over the breakfast-table, the writer intimates the | distant and different sources of the materials and the acces- sories of our ordinary morning’s meal. This is all quite true of children belonging to persons in easy and respectable circumstances; but supposing the case to be that of some poor infant who has been all its life a witness and a participator in the parental makeshifts, | “dodges,” and degradations that poverty and bad manage- ; ment will render necessary, the article we allude to would have run somewhat as follows :— | “The child knows that the tea it is drinking came from | the bushes of Fulham, and has probably had half the twigs \of a birch broom amalgamated with the pound of damaged | Pekoe that formed the foundation of the contents of the Chinese-looking chest in the window of the Lambeth grocer. | Its coffee was made ponderous by heavy chicory, and its | sugar was partly extracted from the sugar cask and partly from the box containing sand, of whose coarseness the | Libyan desert might fairly feel ashamed. The morning milk has aequired its present snowy whiteness and cream- \like consistency from the combined contributions of the | distant chalk-pit, the neighbouring pump, and the local cow. |The material of the tea-kettle came from the tin mines of | Cornwall, it was manufactured in Birmingham, and had dangled at the door of the Little Dustpan, in Holborn, with a ticket inscribed, ‘Look here! You can’t believe it, daresay ; but it’s a fact—only ninepence,’ appended to the handle. The spoon was part of that metal to which Britannia has lent her ennobling name; the blade of the knife came from the New Cut—a guarantee for the sharpness of the instrugnent—and the haft was boned from | some animal who never saw the owner of the weapon. The tablecloth has been a constant traveller up and down the connecting spout between freedom and captivity in the establishment of the pawnbroker, and the carpet is redolent of Venetian romance. The child’s frock has passed through |the cotton mills of Lancashire, the mangles of Middlesex, jand the washing-tubs of London, until its colours have Tue Times lately, in one of its leading articles, shows in ‘flown; and indeed there is no limit to the number of | | however humble, might not suggest.” LORD GEORGE’S LAMENT. My clique’s at the Marquis of Granby, A talking so namby and pamby; Their case is as bad as it can be, For they won’t be ruled by me. I wonder of what kind the man he, Who’d the ruler of such a wild band be ; To guide’em how firm must his hand be! Since they won’t be ruled by me. He’|! find as a leader his stand be As unsound as bank of dry sand be; All he says will most bitterly scann’d be, If he won’t be ruled by me. Mr. Chisholm Anstey and his Monster Motion. | THe Monster Motion of Mr. CutsHotm Anstey, like the | Monster in Frankenstein, frightened every one away, and | proved fatal at last to its own parent. We understand that | had Mr. Anstey been suffered to proceed, Mrs. Austin would have got an injunction against him for an infringement }of her copyright in her “Story without an End.” The /commencement of his speech was the signal for such a | simultaneous rush to the door as nothing but a mad bull or | Mr. Cuisuotm Anstey could have occasioned. Of course |the House could not bear the infliction without being | strengthened expressly for it ; and as there were only thirty- nine instead of forty present, the Commons were not | sufficiently forti—fied to undergo the trial. | character of the modern dust-bin and the ancient watch-box, with a slight touch of | ingenious speculations that the contents of any apartment, |

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. CURIOSITIES OF LEAP-YEAR. URIOUS facts occur during Jeap-year, which, upon no ground whatever, could, or would, or should, occur upon any other year. First of all, those persons who happened to be born on the 29th of February will have a chance of keeping their birthday; a pleasure they can only know once in four years. We hope their parents will make generous allowances for this accident, and, in giving their customary presents, multiply them by four, and wish them four times the usual amount of “many happy returns of the day.” Bill-discounters, who charge their interest per diem, will get one day’s more extortion this year; whilst Editors of Magazines and their contributors will rejoice they have an additional day for sending in copy. Poor job-horses however, which are let out by the month, will think the extra day a hard pull upon them; and articled clerks and apprentices who are in their last year of bondage, will not be very complimentary or grateful to the 29th of February for perching them one day longer upon their high stools. But all persons whose bills become due on the lst of March, will rather like the delay ; and hares, whose madness always breaks out, it seems, on St. David’s Day, will enjoy, this year, twenty-four hours’ more sanity than the last; which must be a source of extreme pleasure to all philanthropists and the Animals’ Friend Society, to say nothing of the hares themselves. The Ides of March, also, will visit us all the later, and we shall have pancakes, as an Irishman would say, on Shrove Wednesday instead of Tuesday. As for ourselves, we are married, and so do not dread the ers of Leap- year. But bachelors must be on their guard, and assume all manner of surliness —that is to say, supposing they have it not—for they should Cl pf YY \ N Sy MIL tt tty Ut Ltda recollect, ladies are entitled to propose in re retted ‘ selfish race of bachelors would soon be extinct. Leap-year. It is deeply to be that, such a custom occurs only once every four years, or else the Paving the Piper. Tis an Englishman’s pride—and it can’t be denied We’re a people of mighty resources— Our dominions are vast, and we’re quite unsurpass’d By the world for our maritime forces. . Then our trade is immense, and in every sense Tis allow’d we’re a wonderful nation ; But the worst of it is, that.to keep up all this, We've to bear such a load of taxation. Oh yes! we’re a wonderful nation, A very remarkable nation ; What a thing it would be, if it were not that we Had to bear such a load of taxation ! Without scruple or doubt, we at once set about Undertakings most grand and stupendous ; And we care not a bit how ourselves we commit To expenses, however tremendous. Thus, in Railways we sank half the wealth of the Bank, And the upshot of this speculation Is a horrible mess of commercial distress, And the prospect of further taxation. Indeed we ’re a wonderful nation, We are a most wonderful nation ; Oh that we could be such without paying so much As we do in the shape of taxation ! The world has no mate to the empire and state Of the Rose and the Shamrock and Thistle ; But Truth bids us to say that we certainly pay Most exceedingly dear for our whistle : That ’s the thorn in our side ; that’s the gall to our pride ; That ’s what spoils all our glorification ; That inordinate drain that our pockets sustain In our awful amount of taxation. But still we ’re a wonderful nation, y Jove! we’re a wonderful nation, With a wonderful purse, and obliged to disburse A most wonderful sum in taxation. TALBOT AND TUAM. Taxzot, in heraldic language, signifies a dog—not a cur, nor a mongrel, but an animal of a aoble, generous race. Such a thorough- bred English Tatzot—a Taxzor of a breed which, for upwards of four hundred years, has been famous for never turning tail—has lately per- formed as gallant an exploit as was ever achieved by our own Toby. He has gone boldly in upon the “ Lion of the Fold of Judah,” so called —but whom we consider as a much meaner kind of brute in alion’s skin —and has bearded this lion, such as he is, in his den. More correctly, | perhaps, we may say that our spirited Tatsor has drawn the badger, or ! unkennelled the fox, of St. Jarlath’s. The creature, on being dragged to light, made a spiteful but ineffectual defence, and then crept back into his hole ; whence he has again been dislodged by the bold ‘Tatsor, who has given him a shaking from which it will take him a long time to recover. Thus wrote Joun M‘Hatg, of Tuam, to Joun Taxsor, of Shrewsbury :— “‘ Had such wayward and extravagant caprices,&c. . . . they should escape from us all notice and observation; but when we find a Catholic Peer come forward, and deliberately assert of an entire National Church, to which his country is so deeply beholden, ‘that she is a conniver at injustice, an accessory to crime, a pestilent sore in the commonwealth,’ &c. &. . + We are actually reminded of the sincerity of Herop’s homage,” &c. &c. Such, asserts Dr. M‘Haxz, was the deliberate assertion made by the Ear or Surewssury against the Irish Roman Catholic Church, in the first letter addressed by the Eart to him—M‘Hate. name which, thanks principally to the said Jonn, that Church has acquired in England. These were the words of the Eart or Surews- BURY concerning the Church in question, written to Joun Tuam aforesaid :— “‘ The public voice in England now pronounces her to be a conniver,”’ &c. ArcupisHorp M‘Hate compares the Eart or Sarewspury to Herop. He provokes a retort, which, but that comparisons are odious, his antagonist might have made very appropriately. Herop we naturally associate another personage, whom his Lordship might have associated with somebody else. We allude to Pruare, so memorable for his question, “ What is Truth?” a thing which was | utterly beyond his comprehension, and seems to be as far beyond that of a certain Archbishop. A Real Invasion. Wuutst we have been talking of providing against a possible invasion, we have had a foe actually ravaging the heart of the Metropolis. The Whereas—and | Joun Tuam well knew it—his Lordship merely complained of the ill | With | Times declares that during six weeks the Influenza interrupted business, | and killed 5000 people in London. According to the Jast quarterly | return of the Registrar-General ‘ the epidemic of Influenza killed twice | as many people in the insalubrious parts of London as it did in those | less unhealthy.” It may be all very well to fortify our coasts; but the | above statements show that we ought not, in the meantime, to neglect | our common shores. It is ridiculous, on the part of Brirannia, to boast of ruling the waves, so long as she asserts no sort of control over | the gutters. MORE ATROCITY. 2 Q. Wuy would the Ghost in Hamlet have been liable to the Window ‘ax ? Ans. Because he had glazed eyes. Q. When does the early closing movement become very objectionable ? Ans. When you have placed your finger in a lobster’s open claw.

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| did put, as I may say, fetters upon us, somehow or other we always 68 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI Groom. “ THAT’S ANOTHER FAVOURITE Oss oF MastTeR’s, SiR; AND A GOOD ’UN BE IS, TO0,f{Sim, ONLY HE AINT VERY QUIET.”’3 Mr. Green. “Ou! How po rou mean— Nor very Quiet?’” Q Groom, “ Wuy, Sir, HE’D GET YOU UP IN A CORNER AND KICK YER BRAINS OUT IN NO TIME. HE’s A’MOST KILLED TWO MEN ALREADY.” OLD ISRAEL TO YOUNG ISRAEL. “My DEAR Jaco, “ Cursitor Street, Feb. 12, 1848. . “THe second reading is over, and Baron RoruscuILp may, in a little while, enter the House of Commons, as I may say, with a stamp; that is, very boldly. “Israel is free! And no doubt on it, there will be dinners given, and thanks said in the Synagogue, and balls in the Minories, and all sorts of rejoicings ; but Jacon, don’t be deceived; there’s a dark side to the ictur. As for what was called the ‘ Disabilities’ of our people, Jacos, never found ’em out, ’xcept to make the most on’em. If the State managed to make money of the old iron. If we was only ‘a remnant,’ we never suffered ourselves to go a bit cheaper for that. “* Jacos, you don’t know my feelings. Here I sits in this room with the bars afore the windows as if a mockin of me! For arrest for debt’s as good as gone—and what’s the use of a lock-up ’stablishment? Still, I can’t for the life of me have them bars taken away; they remind me | so of the precious good old times. Oh, them bars afore the windows, JACOB ; ‘ion seem a part of my very bowels! “What ’s to become of Holywell Street? What’s to become of the lemons in the cabbage-nets? What’s to become of the penknives (of five-and-twenty blades) at the Elephant and Castle? here’s the trade for our boys in black-lead pencils ? “When they did away with arrest for debt—(and how Lorp BrovcHam can turn upon his pillar of a night, and think of the lock-up houses he’s knocked up; the ruin he’s brought upon innocent sheriff’s officers’ families, J don’t know)—when they ’bolished that, they give Israel a staggering wipe; but now they’ve done away with all the disabilities, they’ve as good as ruined us. I’ve borrowed last week’s Morning Herald from over the way, and in something that’s written agin us—(I’d give any money to the writer to pelt mud at Israel from year’s end to year’s end, if it would only keep us out of Parliament)— the writer says :— ‘The admission of Baron Roruscut~p alone breaks down the principle, and once give that up, it is impossible either for the Times or ourselves to say how many Jews will follow the example of the worthy Baron, or to what designs wealth, ambition, and the just of power, may conduct them.’ “Yes, Jaco, this is the sort of stuff that I know Young Israel is led | away with. Open the House of Commons to ’em, and they ’ll make it “Will the world soon be worth living ‘in? No. When they took | only a passage, as they think, to the House of Lords. There’ll be away arrest for debt—(ha! them were the times! Then—when I was | peers of Israel. a courtin your grandmother—when, on an early summer mornin’ I used to jump into my gig from a ball, and drive out, with the hedges smellin so sweet, and the doo upon ’em like your grandmother’s diamonds, and the larks a singing like winkin in the sky—and then when afore break- fast, 1’d make twenty pound on bail-bonds)—but I won’t go on in this be A ; for I should weep as if I was once more in Babylon to think 1 = Still, Jacos, sitting in this roon—which once, alone, I thought would be a fortun to you—I do think of old times. For there, in the | wainscot, is the names of prisoners cut with their own penknives, while waiting a month for bail; and there, too, on the windows also, is their names writ all over with their diamond rings, afore a= sold ’em for brandy and wine to that tender-hearted cretur—who could never let a me with a diamond ring want for anything—your blessed grand- mother. “But, agin I say it, arrest for debt’s as good as gone—and (hat, that was the first blow at our people ! “ And now, Jacon, now comes the finisher. They ’re a going to relieve us of what they call our Disabilities. Ha! Jacos I’m one of Old Israel, Lam; and I say that our Disabilities was our Best Abilities. For look you here, when the Jew isn’t treated a bit worse than the Christian, won’t he be expected to be just as good, if not better ? You ’re one of Young Israel, and don’t see it; but since they take from us the excuse of working only with our wits, shan’t we be obligated to work with our hands? Why, it’s the greatest blow that’s ever been given to our people since Criss fit with Menpoza! And very fine, no doubt, it will sound to talk of the uke of Duke’s Place, the Marquis of Minories, the Earl of Holywell and all that : and very grand, too, it will seem to wear coronets of gold and diamonds, and me robes, and ostrich-feathers, and blue garters, and Fleecy Hosiery Orders. As a Jew, I musn’t call it gammon; but I mean it all the same. Give me the disabilities that lets Old Israel buy the second-hand robes, and not the abilities that lets Young Israel wear ’em. ; “Won't it be a shocking thing for our people to go spending their money at all sorts of elections, and wasting their precious time in the House of Commons ?—time that ought to be given to bus’ness. gp | ag it, Jacos, this making Israel respectable, will be the ’struc- tion of him. I’m an old man, and shall be spared the cruel ops. Nevertheless, my eyes do almost swim with tears when I fancy the future Young Israel *bliged to work like common Christians. . “For I don’t know how many hundred years we ’ve had nothing to do with the ‘sweat of the brow;’ we’ve left all that to the Gentiles. But since they ’re going to make us equal, as they call it, they won’t stand no shirking. ; ; ; “As I say, I shall be out of it; still I can’t help weeping when I see Young Israel as he will be, making railways and running up ladders —how will you like that, Jacos, with a hod upon your shoulder P—and carrying knots, and cleaning the streets, and ‘listing in the army, and going aboard ship like the Christians! Ha! Jacos, I mayn’t be here ; since they ’ve ’bolished arrest for debt, and them bars is of no use, I hardly wish it: but mind my words. Afore ten years is over, BARON Tet egg a

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~ Sane > 4 ” Dew WAS Nuys a \ x —S 4 Y € i? ~ (ff ><] Za Y eS { wah a SNy y IF ~ . CH YU

2 . oN \ ' , fj : She “i ite y PRITESTA vt iS ) R ( + = rid | i ii iF \ a . } ae ~ ah \ P \\ MN Y 00am —, atts oe ~<a . = 2 SSS 4, SO eee ne i, (AGAINST JEWISH DISABILITIES). BEING A GREAT LIBERTY TAKEN WITH MR. FRANK STONE’S PICTURE. THE PART OF THE SWAIN - - - - - - = By a Gentleman of the Hebrew Persuasion. Tue INEXORABLE - - - - - - - = = By Sir R—b—t H—rr—y I—ng—s.

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 71 Roruscuixp (he’ll be so sick of the Commons after the Change) the Baron himself, with all our people’s names upon parchment, will stand up in Parliament, and ask back all the Disabilities—every one of ’em; and then I only hope they ’ll get ’em. . ; “You know, Jacos, what has been said of the monkeys—knowin’ creturs? They won’t speak, because they shan’t be made to work. “Why wouldn’t Young Israel be like the monkeys? But no: he would talk so about his Disabilities as he called ’em, that at last they ’re to be done away with. And now see, if like a foolish monkey that’s took to talking—see if they don’t make him work. | “T shan’t be here to see it, that’s one comfort ; still the thought that when the Jew is made as good as the Christian, he must work as hard as the Christian, does—(how should it be otherways ?)—sore afflict * Your affectionate Grandfather, Orp IsraEt.” “PS. Afore the Bill is quite passed, and you ’ve got too proud with the Baron in the Commons, I should like to see you about putting off them lettuce-leaf rale Avanahs.” Questions at the Examination for the Admission of Attorneys. uR last batch of answers created a sensation among the law-students that can only be described as regularly Niagarian, for cataracts of correspondence have poured in upon us, inquiring why we stopped half-way in our advisable to consume it by Law and by Equity at once, or in conformity with a common phrase, fo set the candle burning away at both ends. . What is the distinction between a bill for discovery and relief, and a bill for discovery only ? A. A bill for discovery and relief is, I take it, a bill sent in soon enough to enable you to discover your error and stopin time. A bill for discovery only, is a bill which prevents you from finding out. your mis- take until the mischief is all done, and the costs have been all incurred. Aw affecting instance of reverse of fortune was accidentally brought to our knowledge a few days ago, in the case of avery poor and wretched old joke, that was found crouched up as if ashamed to show its face, in a corner of our letter-box. We recognised the joke as one of our very earliest acquaintances ; and on tracing its history, we found it had been introduced to the world by the celebrated SHERIDAN, who obtained for it a most flattering reception at the Theatre, in the best society, and also upon one occasion in Parliament. Time, however, soon began to tell upon the joke, which was glad to find its way into a farce or two, where it was received with much kindness. At length the paticnce of its best friends began to be exhausted, and the joke was reduced to the painful necessity of sustaining a precarious existence by attendance at evening parties, until at last it sunk down into the deepest depths of degradation, by rendering itself so familiar that contempt was every- where felt for it. Ultimately it became evident that no one would take thing had contrived to cram itself. We, of course, discovered its cha- racter at once, and forwarded it to an asylum for decayed witticisms, where every care will, no doubt, be taken of it. instructive course, and left HORRID three of the subjects of ex- == MURvER F} ||| amination unnoticed. W another transfer from the columns of our learned con- | temporary the Legal Observer, (| and have forwarded the remaining portion to Mr. BRIEFLEsS, requesting him to draw the requisite number of answers, and file his bill— being his account for fees— at his earliest convenience. With his customary prompt- itude—for the arrow is not more rapid in its flight to the mare’s-nest than is the ounce of BRIEFLEss on the : rief—he has favoured us with the following answers to the questions under the remaining branches, beginning with IV. Equity and Practice of the Courts. Q. State some of the principal cases in which relief is to be obtained through a Court of Equity. . aa ; A. There are many cases in which parish relief is to he obtained through a Court of Equity; for by pauperising the client it gives him a claim for relief on the parochial funds. ; '% State the principle upon which assets are marshalled in a Court ty) uty. A. The officers of the Court have the first pickings out of the assets ; the lawyers have a second claim; and when this is satisfied the assets may be marshalled, if there is anything left to marshal, among the suitors themselves. Q. Explain the difference between the nature of the relief obtained by mortgage creditors through the medium of a Court of Equity and through that of a Court of Law. 4. When the mortgage-creditors go for relief to either a Court of Law or a Court of Equity, the remedy is often worse than the disease. It would be difficult to point out the difference in the operation, except, ag: that Chancery operates slowly, and the patient is allowed to inger, while Law frequently settles him at once. Q. In what cases is it advisable for the defendant’s solicitor {o peruse and consider the effect of the bill immediately upon entering appearance, without waiting for the office copy, and for what reason ? 1 cases it is as well for a solicitor to draw up an imaginary bill, and consider its relative effect upon his own and his client’s pocket, by which, of course, is meant the probability of its being paid. If on considering the effect of the bill, he finds it satisfactory, he may go a-head at once without waiting for office copy or anything else. Q. In what cases is it necessary to resort to a Court of Equity in peupest of a right which can be established only through a Court of w | AC A, When the fund or property is so plethoric as to render it A BLACK JOB. x e "ay eS . ‘| have consequently effected| Was Lorp Netson an Ethiopian ? is a question that may be naturally | asked by any uninformed person who happens to see the Statue of the | hero in its present condition in Trafalgar Square. The countenance of the great naval captain of his age wears a blackness, more like the | lowering aspect of Sir Lowry Coxe than that of Netson’s own | physiognomy + though paw it is rather in character that he should | ave become black in the face at the indignity passed upon him by his treatment at the Column. We might excuse his black looks under the | circumstances, if we were not aware that Netson is not personally responsible for the sombre features of his much-neglected ofligy. We have only one way in which to account for the darkness of the hero’s aspect, and that is by supposing that the whole of the arrangements connected with Trafalgar Square have been managed with such a niggard hand that Netson himself has at last assumed a nigger’d face to keep them in countenance. SOMETHING OF NATIONAL IMPORTANCE. M. the D. of W. presents his com- pliments to Mr. Punch, and thinks the time has now arrived when it _ has become expedient to announce to him the real reason of his (the D. or W.’s) fears with regard to an Invasion by the French. He (the D. or W.) had long since been in the possession of secret intelligence of the intended ultimate - surrender of the Great Emir; and %® his expectations of an invasion were based on this information. For he clearly perceived that as soon as " ; — Axp-Et-Kaper should become a Yee~, risoner, = Ls ye wae remain ge > _ —““sss.--=- France’s greatest antagonist. si S—_._ = ————-:~ |. This event has now taken place: Mr. Punch will, therefore, inevitably attract all that persevering hostility, which has been so successful in Africa, and direct it upon England. And as the war in Algeria was not with Africa, but with Anp-EL-Kapen, so the war in England will not be with Great Britian, but with Punch. He (the D. or W.) therefore feels it right to warn Mr. Punch of the responsible position in which he stands, and to inform him that he (the D. or W.) considers that the man who brings war upon a nation, should be the first in its defence. In pursuance of this conviction, the D. or W. hereby officially signifies to Mr. Punch, that his (Mr. P.’s) baton will henceforth be that of a Field Marshal. : ? F. M. rue D. or W., in communicating this intelligence, wishes it to be understood that he by no means approves of his (Mr. P.’s) conduct towards himself, but feels that the present is an occasion when his feelings as an individual must not be allowed to interfere with his duty to his country. it in, and it was at length found in our letter-box, into which the poor .

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72 PUNCH. OR THE LONDON CHARITVART. THE STORY WITHOUT AN END. THERE was one CHISHOLM ANSTEY, And by ill-luck it chanced he as sworn to impeach PALMERSTONE ; But whene’er he began, | . The House clear’d to a man, : And hearers poor ANSTEY got none. j Libs Li Vert] ! | ee Till, with vicious intendment, He, as an amendment, At last brought it on in Committee ; So all business must stay, Till he had out his say, And he pitched it all in without pity.” His inquiries begun NY Anno Domini One, VX > And of all of his hearers was not a man But was praying for patience, LTT When he reached the foundations (In three months) of the Empire Ottoman. ied away, HF Ere he got through the Middle-age history: YOu Session followed on Session, | fe He had always possession Of the floor—yet the end still was mystery. Wise t]) He read all ever written ii ttl TAL! In the name of Great Britain On each matter of foreign relation; || Discuss’d every report Upon every sort ' Of transaction with every nation. ie 5S N } The young they grew grey, | the old di | His papers each day iii) Came up in a dray | />—~~ In quires wet from Sprortiswoope’s ware- ate When no Members remained, He never complained, But went spouting away to a bare House. The national debt Much larger did get, His returns cost so much in the printing; Old M.P.’s, deaf and blind, Crept about, quite resign’d, [hinting. [house ; “Cut it short ”—they had long giv’n up So he thump’d, talk’d, and thunder’d, 1, when far past a hundred, — He wound up a six-month’s peroration ; | The man he had worried | Had been long dead and buried, And the world in the next generation. FASHIONS FOR 1848. THERE is quite a fashion at present for Constitutions. Each petty State is pntting on a fresh one. ne old ones, in fact, were so worn out that it was high time they should be thrown off and sold for old rags. Prussia first started the fashion, though the Constitution it assumed was of such a patchwork nature that it was not half so becoming as it might have been. The form—the facon, as the French term it— was good enough, but the materials were very poor stuff, and most clumsily put together. The fact is, it had been ordered so many years ago, that, when completed, the fashion had quite gone by. Lucca next tried a Constitution, and succeeded in getting something like a fit; no thanks, however, to its Duke, who absconded after a most glaring case of cabbage. The fashion also has reached Naples, who, there is no doubt, will look much smarter, and move all the quicker, when she gets her new suit of clothes. Let us hope that when it is ready, it will not, like her former Constitutions, follow the national proverb as strictly: “See Naples, and then die.” The fashion is spreading fast all through Europe. Denmark even wishes to come into it. France has all the Parisian desire to be in the fashion, but wants the courage; whilst poor Spain occasionally makes an effort, and orders a new Constitution, though the order is always countermanded the next day. Portugal is also anxious to throw off her old habits; and all Lombardy, much to the dislike of Austria, who hides her fears behind a wall of soldiers, is burning to exchange threadbare forms for bran-new ones. _ _ If this rage continue, we must have books ot new Constitutions pub- lished, like the Fashions, every month, so that a State who wishes for a change may pick and choose for itself. In the meantime, the |favourite pattern seems to be the English Constitution. We are glad to see other States cutting their cloth after ours; for really, putting the stains out of sight, and blinding ourselves to the few patches here and there, we don’t know where—all vanity apart— they could possibly select a better Constitution for finish, style, and durability, than in England. We say nothing about its cheapness; for people must expect to pay a good price if they want a goodarticle. They might get a cheaper and a more showy thing from France; but it would go in less than a month, and they would only have to come to us after all. In the words of the tea-dealer, we say loudly to all foreign States, “ Try our British ConsTiITUTION, STRONGLY RECOMMENDED For Famity Us.” We hope before the Millenium to see all the world (including America) ourcustomers. In the meantime, kings, dukes, viceroys, popes, queens, policemen, beadles, democrats, and parish and German potentates, ond up your orders. The Pride of the City. Mr. Waktey and other people may inveigh against the filthiness of London; but it is the proud boast of the Corporation, that notwith- | standing the late panic and failures that have occurred in the Money Market, the City neither has been, nor ever will be, cleaned out. EUCLID OUTDONE. Tue following proposition is so immensely difficult that we offer a large reward—the particulars of which will be duly announced—to any one by whom the —_ is solved. It is as follows: Given, a railway time-table—to find the periods fixed for the starting of the trains. an et: —_s—

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— RR cr SERA 9 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 73 AN ADAPTATION FROM SHAKSPEARE. Tue British Lion has kicked off Lorp Gzorcz Bentinck. This is ungrateful, unnatural conduct in an animal we have been accustomed to consider the type of magnanimity, and the nobler qualities of feline nature. What ! Lorp Grorez, the most daring keeper the creature ever had!—Lorp Grorce, who used to go into his den, hold up before his bars that tempting morsel Protection, set him growling’ and licking his jaws and lashing his tail with eagerness, and then whip it away— Lorp Gxorcz, who used to make him jump through the hoop of statistics, and perform the funniest’ antics—Lorp GrorcE, who poked him up—Lorp Gzoree, who stroked him down— Lorp GrorGez, who made him show his teeth, or offer his peaceful paw—Lorp Gzorcx turned upon attlast ! . We have lost our faith in Lions. . But what will Lorp Gzorce do now? Let him turn Cortoranus—curse his recreant betake himself to the hearth of his Peetrus Perriprus, and there demand hospitality in| the name offancient Parliamentary fisticuffs. Such a proceeding would furnish matter for | an imitative tragedy, as affecting as that of SuaksPEARE, and more appropriate to modern experiences. We beg leave to sketch the action of it from this point :— Lorp GEorGE (muffled). Enter Perrivivs. Per. Whence comest thou? What wouldest thou? Thy name? Lord G. If, Peewsus, (unmuffling) Not yet thou knowest me, necessity Commands me name myself. Per. What is thy name? Lord G. My name is Lorn Grorce Bentinck, who hath stuck To thee particularly and to all PeExires, Like to a Trojan; thereto witness may My surname, “ Stable Mind.” The lengthy speeches, The strange statistics, and the hosts of facts Crammed for my thankless party, are requited But with that surname—only the name remains ; The bigotry and blindness of the party, Seconded by constituencies of counties Who disapprove my vote upon the Jew Bill, Have driven me by general desire To drop my leadership. Now this extremity Hath brought me to thy hearth! And soon. After the march of the play, Peetivs Perripivs accepts with delight the alliance of his old enemy. They unite their forces, Lory Georce having brought Mr. BensamIn Disraz1t with him, and march against the citadel of Protection. They encamp before it. All regular Parliamentary overtures of peace are rudely declined. At length a mourning proces- sion of old women issues from the walls. Mr. Herrres, Sir CHartes KniGHTLEY, and ~~ Mr. Newpezeare, the Parliamentary mother, wife, and child of the “Stable Mind,” prostrate | themselves ‘before him, and implore him to avert his arms from his friends. The age of the first, the inoffensiveness of the second, and the inexperience of the third prevail. The “Stable Mind” on way. The army retire, and the hero finally falls a victim to Prxzrus Perripivs, and his associates, Political Progress and Common Sense. OUR LEGAL HEROES. Srnce the prospect of an Invasion by the French has been spoken of, the entire legal pro- fession has been up in arms, and the Bar has declared with one voice, that every member will shed his last lock of horse-hair, and lay down his last fee if necessary, in defence of his native land. Arrangements are already in progress for com- pleting a forensic corps, calculated to strike terror into the breasts of the bravest foes; and itiis not perhaps generally known that a Law Review is about to be established, which will be in fact a periodical, but will consist of powder and shot instead of paperand print. It is in fact intended to call out the legal cohorts to exercise once a-week, by roll of drum, in the precincts of the Rolls. The weapons of this gallant band will consist of those legal instruments with which such deadly havoc is usually committed; and we ask in the utmost confidence, which of us would not fly further and sooner from a writ than from a bayonet or abullet? The word of command, to ‘Draw declarations,” has something far more terrible in it than the common-place exclamation of “ Draw swords,” and every one who owes a farthing, though he might listen complacently to the words “ Recover arms,” would quail like a very wild duck at hearing the ominous cry of * Recover debt and costs.” Exercises have already commenced, and the drilling is about to proceed in the garden of Lincoln’s-Inn-Fields, which is to be fitted up as the Field of the Cloth of Costs. The forensic forces will combine upwards of a thousand rank and file, but there will be a battalion of Barristers called, par excel- lence, the Deep Old Files, by way of distinction from the ordinary soldiers. A few meetings have already been held, for the purpose of organising a regiment of legal volunteers, and the Accountant- General has been invited to accept the office of General in command. SeRsEANT WILKINS has been selected on account of his vigour and enthu- siasm, to undertake the office of recruiting- sergeant, and we shall no doubt soon see on the _— of Westminster Hall, a notice to the effect that— “4 FEW FINE HIGH-SPIRITED YOUNG JUNIORS Are wanted immediately, to follow their leaders in a great national cause.” We can imagine the effect that would be pro- duced upon the whole of the back rows in Westminster Hall by WILKINS’S ADDRESS TO HIS ARMY, Adapted to the Air of ‘* Scots wha ha’.” Juniors, who ’ve your clients bled, Juniors, whom I’ve often led, (Though I’ve found you thick of head,) On to Victory! « Who would fill a coward’s wig, Who for fame don’t care a fig, Who thinks nothing zzfra dig.— Let him turn and flee. Who th’ uncertainty of law, _ In each document they draw, © _ Would expose, and find a flaw—* Let him follow me! There could not be a more appropriate finale to this spirit-stirring song, than a cry of “ Make ready costs,” followed by an order to “ Present bills,” and winding up with one tremendous shout of “ Charge—Six-and-eightpence ! ” nen -———

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARLI. \ | Juvenile, “Ou! Cuartey. Ir you near a REPORT THAT I’M GOING TO Girt IN BLACK, YOU CAN CONTRADICT IT, DOINGS AT A “CERTAIN CHURCH!” A WARNING TO WOMEN. We have received a strange tangle of a letter—evidently written in a female hand, and under feelings of great excitement—from which we pick, as well as we may, the following passages :— At a certain church, which (says our correspondent) she is not yet prepared to name, but which, if she is further provoked, she will most assuredly denounce, to put all her fellow-creatures upon their proper guard (for there never was such a wickedness heard of before !)— At a certain church—the most extraordinary practice is resorted to ; | and if she only knew the Bishop of that church, which she will know | before many days, or the fault will not be her own— At a certain charch—which ought to be the last place where any experiment of any sort is made; for, hav’n’t they hospitals, and surgeries, and lecture-rooms, and who can say what, to play their fal-lal tricks in, which they call the interests of Science (fiddlestick!) as if Science had anything to do with human feelings and human affections, and those sweet emotions of the heart that lead the heart very often to give itself away before it knows where it is; and very often what avery nice return it gets for all its goodness— At a certain church—and where the clergyman was brought up who can suffer such things, there’s nobody can tell; for he ought to know better, or the gown ought to be stripped from over his head, and not another word said upon the matter: whereas, to the contrary, from all that ’s appeared, he rather gives in to the notion, as it saves him time, and allows him to get home to luncheon earlier, as if people who have duties to perform should think of luncheon before the happiness of their fellow-creatures— At a certain church, and there—for there can be no doubt of it—the big beadle stands looking and laughing on, instead of taking the culprits up; and the pew-openers do nothing but warm their keys in their hands, instead of running for the police— At a certain church—and what the feelings of parents who consent to such doings, can be made of, it’s more than any Christian can tell— At a certain church, on certain occasions when weddings take place— | and only consider, a wedding, that solemn occasion that seldom happens above once in a person’s Rie, and sometimes never; and after all, perhaps, when it’s considered what troubles are in the world, people are much better that are left entirely single than even those that go off as “relicts ”— At a certain church, and at weddings when people—if at any time of their lives—ought to have all their seven senses about ’em— dh WIL) Tuere’s NOTHING IN IT.” THE ADVANCES OF RUSSIA, Tue Emperor or Russta, according to the yn, | Morning Post, has offered to lend the Austrian Hi (| Government 50,000,000 florins, upon the most ij/|) | liberal terms. Nicuoxas, surely, must be one of those gentlemen who, notwithstanding the present hard times, are constantly advertising their readiness to lend money to any amount. Of course the Empgror, in return for his advances, requires some little pledge, which, probably, is much less liberal than his offers. Punch, in admiration of his Imperial Majesty’s generosity, hereby authorises him to adopt the motto an legend of “Money Lent,” and to sport two golden balls to the one now in connexion with his sceptre. The Emperor or Russta, in the political drama, is evidently the “ Benevolent Uncle ” to the distressed Princes of Europe. The Mouth-Stopper of France. Tue Minister of the Interior has declared Reform Banquets illegal. Lovts-PHILiPPE evi- dently disapproves of the too great readiness to help themselves displayed by his subjects at those dinners. So anxious is he to stop the mouths of his people that he now forbids them from dining. But no doubt his paternal views of Government would be fully answered, if his lieges would behave at table like well-regulated children, and eat— ; f\ but not talk. Nall Mig’ sf | yi vida (hs ABSURD ! WE understand that it is the intention of a | certain new Member, whose name we considerately suppress, to move for returns calculated to show what effect the reduction of the duty on French ribbons has produced upon window-sashes. BE MARRIED TO THAT At a certain church, when the bride is so much agitated—and any woman who doesn’t make it her business to be agitated at such an interesting moment is worse than a post, and doesn’t deserve to be married at all— ; At acertain church, the marriage ceremony is performed, and the | bride, when very timid, is married—under chloroform! ; . | Only imagine,” says our correspondent in a postscript, “ that it ' should ever run in this way in the newspapers :—‘ At [please put in ‘a certain church,’ by the Rev. Mr. B * * * *| Miss Mary Jones, under the beneficial effects of chloroform, to Mr. Joun Smitn!’” : In a second and concluding postscript, the writer, with an hysteric flourish of the pen, asks this question : “ Mr. Punch, what’s the Parlia- | ment about that it doesn’t step in! !!!!!?” A SPANISH ACHILLES. Acuittes, by having had a plunging-bath in the river Styx, was | rendered invulnerable, all but his heel. There is a gentleman in Spain, who has the advantage of the Grecian hero, in being bullet-proof all over. |The Heraldo states that, | « A man has just arrived at Madrid, whose body bullets cannot enter. He proposes | being publicly shot at by the soldiers of the garrison; and if this be not permitted, he will shoot himself by means of a machine which will let off several muskets at the same time. | This strange fellow is said to have invented a garment of a tissue which will resist any bullet.” This individual should lose no time in coming to Ireland, and securing his invention by patent. Under the title of the “ Anti-Assassin | Wrapper, or Tipperary Paletot,” it would have a sale which would certainly make his fortune. Panes and Penalties. | Captatn PecHeEtt says that he has tried in vain to get from the Chancellor of the Exchequer what his notion of a window was. What the Chancellor refuses, we will give. The following is our defini- tion of =, winpow, ACCORDING TO ACT OF PARLIAMENT. | Anything, however small, which keeps out the light, and lets in the tax. Printed by William Bradbury, of No. 6, York Place, Stoke Newington, and Frederick Mullett Evans, of No. 7, Church Row, Stoke Newington, both in the County of Middlesex, Privuters, oe their Office. in Lombard Street, im the Precinct of Whitefriare, in the City of Locdon, and Pub- lished by them, at No. 85, Fleet Street, in the Parish of St. Bride, in the City of London.-- | Satunpayr, Fesavagy 19th, 1848. _—

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PINCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 75 A GAME FANCY FAIR. UST now we read a pargraph in the Stamford Mercury which has set all our benevolent. sym- pathies ina ferment. We feel much more than we can express in any present known type; and could wish that there was some peculiar Jachrymal font cast for the development of extreme sorrow for the Marquis oF Exeter. ‘That distinguished man has made for himself a great A). reputation as a Game Peer. The eagle’s feather is the long- acknowledged plume of chiet- tainship. Now Exerer might wear the pheasant’s tail in his coronet ; which might further be trimmed with the scut of hares in lieu of ermine; and all as typical of his game ascend- ancy. He is, so to speak, the Prince of Preserves. Well, the Marquis has of late been un- fortunate in business. We fee for the losses of any deserving tradesman; but our grief is, of course, much more poignant when awakened by the sorrows of a Poulterer of Blood. The Stamford Mercury, in brief but impressive lines, gives the history of the noble tradesman’s recent misfortune :— “On the Ist inst. he sent to the Sibson railway station, ina cart, as many hares and pheasants as took two herses to draw them, and the carriage of them by the railway to London was charged £3 10s.: there were to pay, besides, the fare and expenses of the gamekeeper who accompanied them ; and such wis the bad return of the sale, that when the man got back, the noble Marquis was actually 20s. out of poeket by the dealing, the London market being exceedingly overstocked.” Overstocked! Why can there not be unanimity among noble game-dealers, as among aristocratic | coal-owners, so that the limited supply should always command a certain return? It would greatly grieve us to find a nobleman in the Gazette—that Colonna Infame of the newspaper—for reverses in the poultry line. Imagine how it would read :— ‘The most noble the Marquis or Cocktarts, May Fair, dealer in game. Feb, —, at Basinghall Street. Solicitor, Mr. Wires, Hare Court. Official Assignee, Mr Grouse.” We should feel this as almost a national disgrace; and therefore we have to propose a plan that—if carried out—will, we think, have with it the combined charms of novelty and profit. Why should there not be, about Christmas time, a sort of Game Fancy Fair? It is the glory of Jonn Butt that he loveth a lord. The very presence of aristocracy giveth out an odour. Even the playhouse is made more spicy, more odoriferous, by the passing visits of the Genii of the Red Book. MApamME Vestris knoweth this: and therefore, astute lady! are not our eyes gladdened at breakfast-time— gladdened and mightily dazzled at the same moment—by the long list of aristocratic names—a very rope of pearls—whose owners have given the perfume of nobility (parfum de noblesse, such is the phrase, is it not, JENKINS?) to the Lyceum Theatre? And there is deep worldly wisdom in such newspaper trumpetings; for when Jonn Simpson hears that Lorp ScaRLeTHeEELs, with Lapy ScaRLETHEELS and the:Hon. Misses Parrotsitt, have been to the playhouse, Joun Srpson, drysalter, immediately prefers that playhouse, whereto he may carry Mrs. Srmrson and her daughter Peccy. He will not own it; but there is asomething superior in that sort of playhouse. It can hardly be; and yet he cannot tell ; nobility, like the measles, may, after all, be catching. . Noble dealers in the poultry of the preserves may, if they will, turn this laudable feeling of the country at large to a verv profitable account ; and this they may do, as we have already suggested, by instituting a Game Fancy Fair. People who buy such Christmas provender would, of course, give a larger sum for the same commodities if vended by the noble dealers themselves. Hence, if the Marquis would only bring himself to superintend a game-stand for two or three days in the season, he could not but realise considerable profit from the condescension. If, too, noble game-preservers appeared at their stands in their robes, and coronets, and garters, they would no doubt add to the attraction of the solemnity, whilst at the same time they would cast a lustre upon the commerce of the country by such aristocratic decoration. We would, moreover, have the attendance of all gamekeepers distinguished by their wounds and achievements. Men who had killed a poacher should be duly medalled—like the heroes of the line—and men who had suffered wounds and mutilation in defence of that vital institution of the country, the Game-Laws, should also be present, honourably badged, for the ready notice and admiration of all visitors. We think, too, that—could it be obtained—casts of that poacher’s head immediately after the receipt of the “punch” upon it, made historical-by Mr. BerKELEy, might be sold at a moderate price, so as to put the great moral lesson within the possession of all buyers. We believe that if a faithful cast of that most medicinal “punch” could be disseminated throughout the rural districts, so that the humblest field-labourer could not rise in the morning without a “punch” in his eye, a blow—a repeated blow—would be given to poaching that it could not long stand up again This, however, by the way. ; , ; f course, many nals game-preservers would sell the mere raw material:—the birds in their feathers—the hares in their fur. But as ladies at ¢heir Fancy-Fairs sell the very prettiest manufactured articles, so might the Game-Law Lords have their stands of game pies, &c. &c. Imagine the DuKE oF ATHOL with a row of venison pasties, warranted by the noble tradesman to be made of the flesh of deer, upon whose privacy no Scotch professor, no Southern tourist had dared to intrude. Sacred venison pasties from the sublime solitudes of Glen Tilt ! And there too may be the Duxg or | Leeps, with Acs venison—his red and | roe deer—prepared for all sorts of savoury eating. And other Lords have their hare pies —and partridge pies—and glazed phea- sants—and, in fact, all varieties of game dishes made for the occasion—for the general palate of the profane vulgar. We have a lively impression that our hint will be acted upon. Yes. Looking towards the early part of next December with prophetic vision, we : already see advertised from the Min- ories: “ The Game Fancy Fair. | Poulterer’s Sleeves and Aprons of the best blue satin at — complete!” NEWS OF THE COMET. [ Received by Telegraphic Express.] TueE Comet is onitstravels. It had | its passport viséd last week at Berlin. It was only 10,000,000 miles distance , from the earth, so it may be expected | | |almost every day. Philosophers are still speculating as to the great event it is to foretell. We think England has already been visited with its due | share of misfortune. The country must be fastidious indeed, that is not satisfied with a Budget like the one that has just fallen upon us. Talk of your | showers of Locusts in Egypt and In- dia !—What are they to the showers | of Tax-gatherers which drop upon us regularly four times a year, coming in greater swarms every shower? The Locusts do not invade your habita- tions, they merely devour what they find about them; but your Tax-ga- therer knocks at your door, and nearly | eats you out of house and pantry. Should the British Empire ever decay, we are positive the last representative of its departed greatness will be a Tax- gatherer. He will be found mourning over the ruins of London—a second | Marius — weeping over the Bank. | But we are wandering away from the | Comet. Our dispatches from Potsdam tell | us that Proressor DoNNERANBLITZ | has already traced on the last joint of | its tail several black figures, which, when added together, present a very formidable 5. There is no doubt, therefore, that we are indebted to the Comet for this year’s Budget. The sooner some one ties a tea-kettle to its tail, and makes it run, the better. The question is, Who will do it? and the Echo of Westminster Bridge an- swers, “ CHISHOLM ANSTEY.” National Conveyance. Mr. Stewart, of legal celebrity, is about to publish some lectures on “The Means of Facilitating the Trans- fer of Land.” We hope Mr. Stewart will not pass unnoticed the American system of conveyance, as “the wise call it”’—the simple give it a harsher name, known generally by the title of “ annexation. A Buiunper-Bus.—One that takes | you to Holborn when you want to go to the Bank. VOL, XIV. | | I

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THE LONDON CHARIVARL 76 PUNCH. OR _ have the satisfaction of knowing that our children, as they grow out of OLD AND NEW TOYS. Tors have been in a state of coma for hun- dreds of years. It is time that Science should pass her gentle hands over them, and unmes- merise them. When everything else is moving toys should not remain at a stand-still. They must advance with the age. Children are too clever now to be amused with the simple kites that almost lifted us off our little legs in the happy days when we wore no straps. The infant mind has so expanded that it is content with nothing less than a Nassau Balloon. The old rocking-horse, too, with his a wafers and wooden tail, is now voted “slow;” and de end upon it, long before the three years of the Income Tax have expired, that the Nimrops of the nursery will ride nothing but a Megatherium, or at least a monster steam- -engine, worked with real steam. Fast boys will stipulate for a velocipede instead of a hoop, ans and the innocent amusement of blowing soap-bubbles will be quite exploded eventually, by the awful gasometer. Nurses will still be subjected to the playfulness of their young charges, only in a more powerful form! THE NEW KITE, THE OLD. THE NFW. Nurseries will be turned into miniature laboratories, and we shali their clothes, are becoming men, or rather hobbedehoys of science, every inch of them. A lesson will be contained in every toy; our THE OLD. THE NEW. lamb’s-wool dogs will be taught to bark chemistry; our speaking-dolls be made to talk ten languages, and the most abstruse sciences be made easy to the smallest understanding by the aid of a plaything. THE NEW ROCKING-HORSE. leornt from experience at Loo, that “ties always pay the dealer.” Questions at the Hramination for Admission of Attorneys, THERE seems no limit to the excitement which has seized upon | the law-students to gain possession of our lucid explanation of the mysterious nuts submitted to them for the operation of cracking. We have accordingly resolved on plundering our able contemporary the Lega/ Observer, for the third and last time, of the questions still remaining to be answered; and we give them with all the beautifully reasoned replies that our standing counsel has appended to them. V.—Bankruptcy and Practice of the Courts.’ | Q. What description of traders are now liable to the Bankrupt Laws? | A. Recent experience has shown us that no traders are too high or | too respectable to be exempt from such a disagreeable liability. Q. Describe the mode of proceeding to make a debtor a bankrupt. 4. Send him to one of the universities; persuade him to take a theatre ; transfer all your railway shares to him; make him a Pro- visional Committee- -man; or encourage him to invent something useful, by which he will be ruined, and large fortunes will be eventually made by his successors, who are literally those who succeed. VI1.—Criminal Law, and Proceedings before Magistrates. Q. State the mode of proceeding to obtain the liberation of a person ee restrained of his liberty. Bribe the policeman with half-a-crown. If that won’t do, try w. with half-a-sovereign; but, if that wont do, knock him down, and run off with your captive friend. Q. What are the material points of evidence in an indictment for perjury ! A. A regular hard swearer, to swear the direct opposite to everything which the alleged perjurer has sworn. What is the usual course adopted in practice to secure the | attendance of witnesses in criminal cases ? A. The usual course is to serve them with the usual order for beer on the public-house nearest to the Court. When the original order is not made out, the witnesses will in general not object to be served with the drafts. Q. What is the mode of proceeding against a banker or agent for applying to his own use money or securities intrusted to him for a specific purpose ? A, The first step in the proceedings arising out of such a transaction, is usually taken by the banker or agent himself, who proceeds to get out of the country with all possible expedition. The best proceeding the injured party can take, is to run after the delinquent with the | utmost speed. Q. What are the material and necessary points on which evidence is required in such proceedings ? A. The best, though certainly the most unsatisfactory evidence, is to be found in the knowled: ge of the victimised individual, that his money and his banker or agent are gone. LEGISLATIVE CANDOUR. Mr. Bensamin DisRAkE.! was seized, on Friday evening, with a fit of extraordinary candour, or rather, he released the feline animal from the reticule—let tne cat out of the bag—in a manner quite astonishing. In speaking against Lorp Joun Russex1’s financial propositions, ‘ ‘Young Ben” observed that “war was not produced by Powers that were satisfied ; but, as in society, disturbance was created by an individual who did not find himselt in that position which he thonght his talents entitled him to.” This is one of the finest pieces of self-asser- tion we have heard for some time. The public Estimates are not the only estimates upon which Mr. Benszamin Disraewt differs from the Government ; for the estimate formed of the honourable gentleman himself is the great—or little—matter upon which he seems to be at issue with all parties. Remembering that extremes sometimes meet, there is a remote chance that the breach may be filled up some day or another. The Printers’ Friends. WE understand that it is contemplated by the printers, =’. to get up a testimonial to the HamppEN controversialists, ‘and also to M‘Hatg, Archbishop of Tuam, for the great exertions of those gentle- men, which have so much redounded to the good of trade, BEWARE OF THE BAD JOKE. A nosteR in Oxford Street, who does occasionally on the sly a little gambling and punning, has purchased lately a most tremendous lot of opera ties. The reason he unblushingly gives for this is because jhe has eer a

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———_ a PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARLI. 77 THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF MR. BRIEFLESS. CHAPTER THE SIXTH. MR, BRIEFLESS IS CALLED TO THE BAR. ONCEIVING the auspicious moment had now arrived a a when it became necessary VS S&S for me to take a hundred = pounds out of my pocket, or rather out of a rich unele’s, in order to raise the fees re- quired for my call to the Bar, 1 waited upon the good old man, who gave me his bless- ing and a bill-stamp, both of which I readily accepted; and, receiving in exchange a hundred pound note, I flew to the Treasurer of my Inn, who soon relieved me of its charge, and presented me in exchange with a table of expenses payable upon my entry into my profession. Previously, however, to the ceremony of a call, it is customary—or was in the days when I turned that first preliminary somersault, which will send me vaulting head over heels on to the Woolsack at last—it was, I say, customary to ask your friends to the Hall of your Inn, to take wine with you, in celebration of the auspicious event of the evening. had issued about half-a-quire of invitations, and three fellow-students, who were to be called on the same night as myself, had each sent forth note-paper to a like amount, and four parties of ut a dozen each assembled in the old Hall of Gray’s Inn, to do honour to thejacces- sion the Bar was about to make to its ranks, in the shape of four new Utters of unutterable promise in the opinion of their respective friends and relatives. Instead of sitting unsociably at separate tables, in different parts of the Hall, it was arranged that the four parties should join their forces, — | and kill, as it were, four birds with one stone, by making a single cele- , bration of the four great events of the ev 1 must not, however, omit t | performed in the presence of the Benchers, with due solemnity. Each ' student took—from the hands of the butler—a tremendous oath, | | | | ; my way, I could have shown my readiness for a trial at bar, by vaulting | engrossed on parchment, and binding the deponent not to stand by and see foreign princes murdered in the street, nor to suffer any bull from | Rome to make him draw in his horns, on any pretext whatever. Such were the provisions of this oath, which was washed down by a glass of | wine, to drink to the Benchers, who, wishing the new Barristers success, were glad to get them out of the way, and resume the festi- | B | Vities of the evening. I was now a Barrister, and felt all the weight of my new dignity. My legs seemed animated with a sort of involuntary motion of course, and in the hilarious excitement of the moment, the spirit of Hilary Term | seemed to come suddenly over me. Had there been a turnpike-gate in gracefully on to the other side of it. I felt that I was transmogrified by the magic of the oath, and the fairy-like transmutation of the possession | of my uncle’s hundred pound note into the hands of the steward. | felt, in fact, that I was now the qualified champion of injured innocence, the | , recognised advocate of lovely woman in distress, the authorised un- | masker of villany, and the privileged tearer out of all those false fronts | | which are often worn to hide the tremendous blots and stains which disfigure—as the ink besmears the pad—the guilty bosom. I yearne for some victim of oppression, I cared not how humble his sphere— | - humbler. the better —that I might insist upon justice being done | to him. | What would I not have given for some acknowledged heroine of | domestic melodrama—some persecuted housemaid, such as I bad seen! divers of at the Victoria Theatre in the course of my life—some injured | creature with a hair-broom in her hand, and an avalanche of injustice on her devoted head—what, 1 say, would I not have given for such a creature as aclient! I would have asked on her behalf, whether the Constitution was to go no further than the drawing-room or dining- room floor, and be refused admission to the kitchen? I would have! demanded to know whether virtue is not as respectable in stuff as in silk, | and whether the heart encased in muslin should be exempted from | the process of mangling, any more than the crushed bosom in a cotton | print, or whether we are to hold the feelings in Orleans cloth cheaper be those which are carefully wrapped up in the delicate velvet of | enoa ! As there were four distinct parties amalgamated into one, there | might have been some jealousy as to the appointment of a Chair- man, had not a friend of my own—an aged junior at the Bar— been unanimously called to the Chair, in compliment to his very palpable black wig, thrown out into relief by the grey hairs straggling from beneath it, and out of respect, no doubt, toa regular field of furrows which the plough of old Time had cut out upon his countenance. This appearance bespoke that if he had failed to reap, it was not for want of the materials to sow, for there was something dreadfully seedy in his | ening. he ceremony of the call itself, whiel was | aspect. He opened the proceedings of the evening by drinking the health of the newly-called Barrister, and predicting, with much confi- dence, that he would eventually sit upon the Woolsack. Each of the four | Sandlidates rose at once to take to himself the little prophecy about the Woolsack, and each disclaimed, at the same time, the compliment, while each appropriated it, and each was assailed with a burst of |“ Down, down!” from three sides, anda cry of “ Bravo, Go on!” from | his own fourth fraction of the company. ‘There were consequently no less than four embryo Lord Chancellors—in their own opinion—talking ,at once; and indeed a call to the Bar never takes place without the | new accession to its ranks taking ipso facto .a reversionary interest in ithe Great Seal, according to the notions of his own immediate friends and family. Iam sure have kissed the royal hand, on my elevation to the Woolsack, fifty times at least, in the imagination of those who took an interest in my success; and as every family believes its own scion is destined for the glorious post, there are always, upon an average, some four or five hundred embryo Chancellors in the chambers, garrets, and attics of the great metropolis. | } The unlucky contretemps that had happened _in the commencement of | | the evening materially marredits harmony. The father—or grandfather | —of the Bar drank to such excess, in order to drown animosity, as he said, | that he grew extremely sentimental, and alternately wept, shricked, and | speechified. I can scarcely call to mind what passed after this, or how | the evening concluded ; but I have a vague recollection of my having , ' been dragged to my lodgings on the tips of my toes between two friends, | one of whom proclaimed himself averse to going home till morning, | while the other administered to me a succession of assaults and batteries, | | designed to irritate me into an attempt to maintain a perpendicular | position. Our respected i was found at five o’clock in the | morning, without shoes, coat, or hat, imploring a pump in Gray’s-Inn a to pour over the affidavit, and allow him to take a rule for a new | trial. REFORM YOUR PREMIBER’S BILLS. Tun Budget this year is like the heavy pack which CuristIan carries ‘im the Pilgrim’s Progress. Its contents are of the most disagreeable | kind, and it is very like to sink poor Jonn Bu t in the Slough of | Despond. | We have to meet a deficiency of three millions,” says Lorp Joun. | How do you propose to meet it?” asks Joun Butt. ‘* By adding three millions of Income-Tax,” says Lorp Jonn. | You mean by taking off three millions of expenditure?” says Joun Lorn Joun. “1 won’t pay a farthing more,” says Joun Butt. “We must make both ends meet,” says Lorp Jonny, “Granted,” says Joun BuLt. : So I’m obliged to put a strain on the national income,” says Lorp | JOHN. ULL. j | Qn the contrary, I mean to increase the Ordnance Estimates,” says “ Why not put the strain on the national outlay?” says Joun Bott. | Which question of his fat friend Punch begs leave to echo. ; Making both ends meet is a process of great toil and torture, which individuals, as well as governments, have been going through pretty | generally this Christmas; but when, on looking back, a man finds an alarming gap between his Dr. and Cr. accounts, he tries to close it up by adding to income what he cuts off from expenditure. It is to be hoped that the country will insist on Lorv Joun following this self- denying principle. No doubt putting a hand in the pocket of J. B., and pulling out three millions additional Income-Tax, is a very simple and satisfactory process for a Minister, but it is by no means so pleasant to J. B. Mottoes for the Taxes. THE MINISTER'S MOTTO, THE TAX-PAYER’S MOTTO. Lor the Window-Tas. * Light come, light go.” For the Income-Taz. “Esto perpetua.” For the Tea-Duty. “ Neque te ministrum dedecet.’ | For the Budget. | “ Fiat lux.” > * A te, 0 cara.” **Sauve qui peut.” (The utmost “Tant perd, tant paye.” (The . possible economy.) greater the deficieney, the greater the expenditure). “IPF HE HAD A HEART FOR WINDOWS FRAMED.” Snoutp the Cuancettor or THE ExcnEQusR be compelled to take off the Window-Tax, we advise him to try Chloroform, as the best adapted for a maneless operation. “ A short life, and a merry one.” | | !

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/ 7 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. | LIBERALITY OF RUMOUR. TuERE is something quite extraordinary in the liberality with which Rumour has been bestowing Bishoprics and Archbishoprics within the last few months; and indeed the arrangements of Rumour fully realise the proverb—“ Bis dat qui cito dat ;” for Rumour not only gives away a good thing very quickly, but gives it twice or three times over to different individuals. The Archbishopric of York, vacant a short time back, was good-naturedly given by Rumour to some half-dozen prelates ; but stern reality, that terrible wet blanket on Rumour’s good inten- tions, soon interfered to take away from five of the favoured objects the benefit that Rumour had bestowed upon them. * WUMILITY.” Rumour is, in fact, a great deal like a rich uncle in a play, who goe° about scattering purses, which on inspection are found to contain nothing but old benefit cards, and checks for the gallery. No sooner had Dr. Sumner been summoned to accept the See of Canterbury, than Rumour began giving away the vacant Bishopric of Chester to half-a-dozen_ people at once, though only one could be destined to obtain it. e greatly regret that Rumour is not amenable to a Court of Law, where she might be sued for compensation by those whose hopes have been raised and cruelly disappointed by her valueless generosity. THE PICTURE OF A HOME. | tu the promises given to | ABD-EI-KADER to go! to Alexandria have been broken ; but the promise pledged to him that he shall have a Mosque in France is—incredi x it may appear—abou to be fulfilled. Artists have been despatched to the South with orders to run up one as quickly as possible. Cicéri, the celebrated scene-painter of the Académie, is intrusted with the decorations, and Horace VERNET has given a sketch of the Desert, which, on account of its wonderful fidelity to Nature, has drawn tears, from the poor exile who sells the luscious Racahout des Arabes, at the corner of the Rue de la Paix, on the Boulevards. Everything for miles is as barren as Leicester Square, only it is not relieved by the luxuriance of thistles and dandelions, which flourish spontaneously in the neighbourhood of the Cockney Walhalla. In the horizon, however, at several leagues’ distance, is seen a palm-tree in a wooden box, which has been generously lent for the occasion by the Jardin des Plantes. A camel, too, it is expected, will be thrown in to add to the effect; and negotiations are pending for a live goat, and, if possible, a chamois. Real sand, also, 1s to be laid down, an engagement having been signed with the Putts dz Grenelle to furnish from its inexhaustible reservoir three cart-loads at | least, a day. Nothing will be left undone, not a stone will be left | unturned, to bring the Desert to Anp-EL-KapER, and make him feel | perfectly at home. The first instalment of his native country is to be delivered by the Messageries at his door on Monday, and the scene-painters have already begun a minaret, the like of which has never been seen in Paris since the palmy days of the Jardin Ture, when JULLIEN used to frighten the rentiers of the Marais with his quadrilles of blue and red fire, and his bomb-and-cannon waltzes. A body of Arabs is likewise to be given as a guard of henour to ABD-EL-KADER, as soon as the termination of the Carnival will allow of the dresses being spared for such a purpose. We feel a novel pleasure in recording this honourable fulfilment by Louts-Pxitirre of a solemn promise. Let us hope it is only No. I. of a long series which is to be continued from week to week, until completed. Subscriptions, to be paid in advance, should be forwarded at once to the Tuileries. Py The Anzsthetical Electioneering Agent. ! Ir appears that the Yarmouth votes—whom, from their vendible | nature, we might venture to call Yarmouth bloaters—disposed of them- | selves, at the late election, at the rate of £3 a-head. A parliamentary | inquisition has declared the Members returned, Lorp ArTHUR LENNOX | and Octavius Epwarp Coorg, Esq., not duly elected ; adding, however, | that there is “no evidence to show” that these acts of bribery were | committed “with the knowledge and consent” of the gentlemen in question. For the candidates’ extraordinary unconciousness of the pro- ceedings of their Committees, we can account only on one supposition, namely, that during their election they were under the iiinenes of | chloroform. tor - —

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ELLOR OF THE EXCHEQUER CHANC PACKING THEIR CARPET BAG, Lord John. “Taat’s ricnt, Woop, RAM THEM DOWN ; WE MUST MAKE ROOM FOR ALL THESE 700.” LORD JOHN AND THE

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL 81 PS. of Old Ireland. MR. PUNCH FOR REPEAL. } ; Y Dear Ray,—Ir the office of Repeal Warden for the Fleet Street , . a sae district of London is vacant just now, I would be very glad to offer the ; 6 humble services of self and paper to forward the good cause which you have at heart. The Repeal ranks, I am happy to tell you, are rapidly increasing in this country. The exertions of your amiable clergy and leaders are procuring a host of converts, By a little judicious manage- ment and further perseverance, you may make your favourite measure so popular in England that the best Irish patriots will be surprised, and that the most selfish Saxons among us will desire no longer to baulk you. You have but to continue in a course of resolute begging and cursing, and I make no doubt the desired end will be brought about, and the disgusted Saxon will be anxious to break off from a Union which only brings him back bad language for his money. | I, for my part, confess myself converted. Tuam and Gatway stag- | gered my belief, and ARCHDEACON La¥ran uprooted it altogether. I am for a quiet life, and a Parliament where you may compliment one > another. What is the use of meddling? It is expensive and not useful. There isa fellow near the National Gallery of London, who = keeps what he calls “a happy family,” whereas it is a family of slaves | the tyrant lordsover. They disorderly! I warrant if they were left to | themselves, they would be quiet before long. There might be a slight | quarrel at first; a few feathers would be scattered about the cage, | probably; some members of the family might be missed from their >. perches; but the end would assuredly be peace. ’ I calculate that AncupEacon JiAFFAN, like a venerable worthy Christian as he is, has made the country a present of many scores of , +, thousand pounds. I will put my own case, not for the sake of ostenta- tion but illustration. I give a £5 note to the Irish fund in 746; I am ready with another for the winter of 47. The Archdeacon preaches a eulogy upon the dashing lads of Tipperary, and says that there is no : cowardly Englishman of us all that has the pluck to stand behind a hedge and fire a few slugs into a dastard of a landlord. The purse- | strings close up. Tipperary shall have no more of it. We can lay it out at better interest in this country. | Of how many well-disposed English gentlefolks of his own persuasion do you suppose the ARcuBisHoP oF TuAM has buttoned up the breeches | pockets? No gentleman prefers to be cursed for a scoundrel, or to be abused as a thief and rvffian, when he is coming with the best intentions | to relieve an amiable fellow creature in distress. If you take out a plate of broken victuals to a beggar, you do not expect that he will | throw them in your face, and condemn the poor innocent eyes into which he flings them. At least (whatever their desires may be) the | infernal artifice and shrewdness of English gentlemen in distressed circumstances, induces them to keep their tongues quiet when they are | actually on the begging business, and never to curse those from whom they hope to beg again, until they are out of hearing. The English are naturally niggardly and timid villains, We are obliged to coax and wheedle them into charity : they are too glad of a pretext for buttoning up; and the national cowardice of our alms-givers will — | no mg face a little abuse and foul language, than an Italian sailor will put out to sea in rough - weather. We cannot help it. We are—as you kindly and constantly show us—naturally cowardly and deceitful. You are open and courageous in Ireland. I admire the frankness of a man who holds out his hand and says, “For the love of Heaven, you infernal scoundrel, give me your money, and | should like to dash your brains out.” I admire him; and that, I say, is why lam and declare myself a Repealer. I am for not being abused, for not having to pay money any more, and for not having my brains dashed out. : I have been led into the above amiable train of thought by looking over one or two late Irish newspapers, and the excellent Mz. Joun O’Connett’s letter from Paris to his dear Ray. He went to church, he says, where a funeral oration was pronounced over his late father by the AnBk Lacorpairg, and where ladies, the noblest, the fairest in the land, went round through the immense crowd, when the sermon had concluded, to collect for the relief of the suffering people of Ireland, and even the very poorest there contributed his mite with a willing and an overflowing heart :— “O how the contrast struck me when I saw the artisan, the humble mechanic, the poor stall-keeper, thus generously and cheerfully giving to the relief of the Irish (with whom his country is bound in no bonds of state connexion), between the conduct of these poor men and the heartlessness of the statesmen, and legislators, and press-writers of wealthy England, who, after plundering us for centuries, refuse us the smallest assistance in the extremity of that misery which has been brought upon us by English misrule! ” It is clear from the above, that the French congregation at Notre Dame subscribed a great deal more than all England; and 1 wish you joy, my dear Ray, of the handsome sum paid up. It is clear that the English press-writers and others have been plundering Mr. J. O’ConNneEtt and friends for centuries; that we have brought a pees disease upon “¢ and denied you the smallest relief; that four or five hundred thousand pounds paid over honestly, squeezed out of all sorts of pockets—from rich men by hundreds, from men of small means in all remittances, from mechanics, private soldiers, maid-servants, school-children, in sixpences and pennies—is not the smallest, relief at all, and, indeed, is a much less sum than five or six thousand francs collected in the plates at Notre Dame. | I don’t know, for my part, about having plundered Mz. O’ConneEt1 for centuries; but I suspect that the famous Irish monarch, whose crown | bry on - royal father’s coach panels, might have slept without much fear of robbers: and as for potatoes, beyond eating them, I vow I never | one a harm. Now you have got the French subscription, you will be set up till potato time, and too proud to calculate what you have lost by abuse of | us. Ma. Joun O’ConneELt may calculate how much we hav’n’t given this year if he likes, and add the sum to the millions which we already | = we. But Oh! my dear Ray, would it not have been more prudent to have taken even an instalment, and to have let in our alms | uty free With three cheers for the good old cause, I have the honour to inclose my year’s subscription, and to remain Yours, Punch. ip SS \ The ruffian Saxon Ministry, in bringing forward its measures of finance, has again spared you the Income Tax—another dastardly slight

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| | motion is still more ponderous and voluminous; for as it expanded, it 82 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL THE MONSTER MOTION. oP _ Hak NT =——t 7 = ile Y , OF’ JM { ‘ V I 4) by id SS 24 DT ff ‘i Sh BE i f Gu = a 4, Mr. AnsteEy’s motion is a misnomer ; for how can we attach the idea | As a curiosity, it is well worth handing over to the Statistical Society, of motion to an affair that brings itself and everything else to a dead to have a calculation made of the number of words the debate upon it staud-still. We have a vague recollection of a certain Chartist petition | would contain, the buckets of ink that would be required to take it that was wheeled into the House of Commons on a truck, and broke | down, and the quantity of cabs necessary to convey it on their united down the table it was ordered to lie upon. Mr. Cuisuoum ANsTEY’s| roofs, if it were allowed to swell to the extent to which Mr. CuisHotm Anstey would carry it, fairly pushed everybody out of the House by its extent and ponderosity. many examples. M. Soizer remarks of the swine in Normandy that eli ni en Coe. . jabove all other breeds, “ they stand very long on their hind legs. We believe it was the benevolent wish of Henrt Quatre that his| And the reason to ourselves is obvious. The swine have, in the course | poorest subject should have a fowl in his pot. Mr. CanTeto promises! of generations, thus adapted themselves to the wretchedness of | very small they will feel themselves, contemplating the sobriety and | patriotic sternness observes— to realise the philanthropic desire of the royal mind to the benefit of all | Norman roads. They have gradually grown upon stilts for more con- men. He proposes to prorogue the sittings of poultry size die, and to| venient walking. Again, M. Routin declares that certain horses in supply the world with fowls, turkeys, guinea-fowl, and pheasants, by | South America were taught “a peculiar pace, which is a sort of running ; means of hot water. ‘“‘ Millions,” says Mr. Cantexo, very boldly,|!amble.’ And what has been the eventual result? Why, “these “have been spent in fruitless attempts ” to relieve female poultry from | horses became the sires of a race to which the ambling pace 1s natural, the cares of a family—by hatching chicks in hot rooms or ovens. Now | and requires no teaching.” Mr. Canreto—the eggs granted—will produce any given number of| [t is these instances that make us fear for the future figures of our chicks by the application of “top contact heat,” conveyed by “a| poultry. Instinctively knowing that they are hatched by steam, fowls current of warm water flowing over an impermeable water-proof cloth, may bulge into the shape of tea-kettles, and instead of clucking, fizz ! beneath which eggs are placed.” ‘Thus, chickens may be produced he rie beneath a cloth, as multitudinous as mites in a cheese. Consequently, nr ill. wa ~. ON the price of poultry must drop to nothing. The guinea-fowl must =. / ~ \ anes change its name, and become at most, a bob-chick. Again, when the » ee ——_ rocess is improved—as of course it will be—we see no reason why the aked potato-men should not hatch pay in their street ovens, and sell a fine young pullet and a real “kidney ” for twopence. Our only fear of the success of the experiment—as explained by Mr. CanTELO—arises from “the artificial mother.’ We have great fears that the filial affections of the poultry will ever be developed. For how can a chick feel its heart expand and beat towards a “number of warm pipes, about an inch and a quarter in diameter, and about the same distance apart, resting on supports about five inches from the floor?” A step-mother is proverbially careless and indolent. What then may we hope from a steam-mother ? Nevertheless, according to Mr. CanTELO, art is above nature. For instance, he charges it against the living mother that she “ often tramples on the chickens—this always injures and sometimes destroys them.” Again, she is apt to gad about; when, “if the brood is following the hen, it is often over-fatigued, and fewer come home than she took with her!” When hens are made to acknowledge this, how maternal love of “‘a number of warm pipes, about an inch-and-a-quarter in diameter!” With filial yearnings—if they have any at all—towards steam, how curious it will be to watch a brood of chicks nestling about a tea-kettle. Mr. CanTExo has noble Spartan notions touching deformed chickens. We think his ideas on this head quite worthy of attention and practical imitation by Boards of Poor-Law Guardians. For Mr. CanTexo with **In all cases of deformity, it is most economical and humane to destroy the chicken. 7 P ae If 8 sea, 8 always grows worse, and a —- by im being able to eat at all, and} And then we see a difficulty with regard to the Game Laws. Are a stiff-leg is p about, and made miserable by the other chick ; and, i h as “ ” a deformed chicken would not have left the nest of the mother, it is not worth while to pheasant . hatched by } top contact heat to. be protected by the attempt to do better artificially. I have hatched a duck with three legs, that is, an im- | Statute ¢ a To be sure, the top contact’ does, in a manner, harmonise perfect and extraordinary one, proceeding from below the rootof the tail. This lived and | with the ; punch on the head,” which a living Game Chicken holds to be so = po why it had two good legs to stand upon; but the third one was often pulled at by “napepntne of preserves. Otherwise we do not see that game hatched : y a number of steam “pipes” should only be shot by licensed barrels. How many a lame duck of the Stock-Exchange must envy such a! Any way, the scheme of MaiCanTELo is well worthy of consideration. | bird—having, at his worst need, two good legs, at least, to stand upon. | We hear it is proposed to form a company—not, of course, in theatrical We confess to be greatly taken with Mr. Canrexo’s enthusiasm ; parlance, a barn-door company—to carry into fullest execution his fowl nevertheless, the doubts we have must speak out. We fear, then, a/ object. It is already so well thought of in the City, that a certain dis- great increase of cases of deformity. We fear that, in process of time, | tinguished alderman has proposed himself as chairman, with the under- poultry thus artificially hatched, will, in their shape, assimilate to| standing that—(“ hours of sitting from ten till four ”)\—he is to hatch nothing but “a number of pipes an inch-and-a-quarter in diameter.” | any mare’s-nest should he be able to find one. At all events, as Mr. Chickens, forlorn things, will be hatched without merrythoughts ; and | CaNTELO professes not to hatch any sort of water-fowl, shareholders turkeys—like peace-loving “friends ”—think drum-sticks quite beneath | will have this most consoling reflection—they will not be called upon to them. Let not the reader believe our fear fantastic ; it is justified by' make ducks and drakes of their money. —- a

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—_— PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. THE GATNAGH EBBRAYW WabODIBs. THE CURLY-HEADED JEW-BOY. Atrrn—“ The Curly-headed Ploughboy.” A Curly-headed Jew-boy soMe years ago was I, And through the streetsh of London “ Old clo” I used to ery, But now I am a Member, I speechifies and votes ; I’ve giv’n up all my dealinS in left-off hats and coats : In a creditable manner I hope I fills my sheat, Though I vonce was but a Jew-boy vot whistled through the street. I used to turn a penny by doin’ little bills, But, lookin’ to the statioN of dignity I fills, The discount line oF business no longer I pursue, And bills to serve my couztry is all the billS I do; With acceptancE from the nation I trust they ’ll always meet, Though they’re drewn by me—a Jew-boy vot whistled thro’ the street. At length, emanshipated, I write myself M.P., And worthy of that honour I’ll ever strive to be ; The only things I thinks on no More is shent per sHent: The peoplesh’ is the interest on which alone I’m bent; I mean a// the British peoPlesh—believe me, I entreat, T hough I vonce was but a Jew-boy vot whiStled through the street. th gratitude 1 offer to our enlizhtren’d Press ; And, now a Legislator, my influeNce 1’ll use Tn aid of toleration, and just and liberal views; For to them I stand indebted—to them I owe my sheAt Who was vonce a little Jew-boy Vot whistled through the Street. 4 thanks for my promotion—and Vot can I do less ? I MERCY WITH A VENGEANCE. _ Powcu, seeing the Right Honourable Baronet, Srz Gzorez Grey, in his place, at the head of the Home Office, begs to ask him if the subjoined statement, which has appeared in a sowspaper, is true. It relates to one Bares, a solicitor, who, together with a man named FLetcuer, was transported in 1844 for forging wills :— ‘*Barser invariably protested his innocence, which was also asserted by his fellow convict ; but they were both sent to Norfolk Island. It is stated (though from what cause we are unable to learn) that a special order was sent from the Home Office, directing the severest treatment to be applied to Barer, which order was rigorously enforced. ‘lhis excited the attention of the reverend chaplain of the colony, and others, who instituted an investigation, and hence his liberation. The Rev. T. Rocrrs, one of the chaplains, certified that the treatment of Banner was of the most galling severity: he was restricted to the barrack-yard ; he was ordered to perform the most loathsome duties; he was deprived of the indulgence granted him by the medical officer; and he was the only prisoner interdicted from writing materials ; whilst the physical toil he had to undergo was altogether disproportionate to his strength. . . . This statement is confirmed by the Rev. Mr. Tay.or, who gives other particulars of the convict’s ‘misery and torture.” These statements, and the result of an inquiry made by the efficer of the settlement into Barper’s case, were forwarded to the Home Office, and a reply was received, announcing a pardon for BARBER, on condition that he should never again set his foot in Great Britain. Within the last week Mak. Barber has arrived in France, having been sent from Sydney by public subscription.” Punch trusts that the Home Secretary will lose no time in giving the above libel—for surely it is such—on the Government, the most un- qualified contradiction. So often has the Home Office been accused of granting pardons for nothing, and without indemnification, that people are pore beginning to believe it to be capable of such injustice and absurdity. It has absolutely acquired a bad name through neglecting to clear its character. No doubt many of the public are disposed to regard the present monstrous imputation on it as true. What must | they think on that supposition? Why, they will ask, if BarBer is | innocent, is he forbidden to return to his country? Not for what he | has done, of course; is it, then, for what he has suffered? Would his | presence be intolerable to those who, in their fallibility, were the ‘authors of his misery and torture? Is he banished merely as an eye- ‘sore? Or isaman to be punished for having been found guilty, no | matter whether he is guilty or not? Is it an axiom of the Executive | that a convict is a kind of victim, who must on no account be let off | altogether? “The quality of merey is not strained,” but the Home | Office, at this rate, strains the mercy of the Crown most grievously. Can anything be conceived more unjust, more inhuman, and more absurd than the treatment of unfortunate Barper? Such will be the questions and such the comments to which the Government will stand exposed, | if the Home Secretary will not take the trifling trouble of repelling this apparently serious, but really (of course) perfectly ridiculous accusation. A “Superior” Pony. Tue following appears in the Zimes :— Window-Breaking in London. Tue Grand Protection Plate Glass Sash Society met on Monday | “ for the purpose of adopting measures” to stop the custom—of late | much cultivated yy py breaking window-panes. Yesterday, a deputation of the body had an interview with the Chancellor of the Exchequer; when the Right Hon. assured them—for their comfort— that in order the better to secure glass, he had no objection to double the present tax on windows. The eee are not yet resolved whether to accept the proffered safeguard of the Minister. GREAT NEWS FOR LOUIS-PHILIPPE. WE learn from the Echo de Vesone that a provincial executioner of France has invented a new kind of guillotine, that will execute any number at the same moment. As the hydra of Reform has just appeared in Paris, -we doubt not His Majesty will, if possible, avail himself of the new invention, to cut off the monster’s hundred heads at one blow. Equivocal Insanity. _Couwr Mortter is declared to be mad. One of the alleged signs of his a is his belief that M. Guizor is desirous of ——— him of his skin, ¥or ourselves, we think there may be some truth in this. For in the present state of things, we believe it likely that M. Guizor should wish himself in any other man’s skin than bis own. JESUITS IN ENGLAND. CoLoneEL SistHorp violently protests against the legalised residence of Jesuits in England: inasmuch as he declares that the Jesuits reverse the proverb “their bite being worse than their dark.” | Pagtocmdiy from TAX—a superior PONY EQUIPAGE, (lowest price, to prevent trouble, 27 guineas,) late the property of a clergyman of the Church of England, by order of the executors, The Pony is young, sound, and quiet,”—&c. &c. That it is thought expedient to advertise the Pony as the late property of a Clergyman of the Church of England is only—for the avoidance of , short sentence. The pony being, as it were, of the Church—that is, extra advertisement expense—to roll up every equine virtue into one | having in some measure imbibed the virtues of its master—is not a . crib-biter, nor a kicker; he bolteth not ; neither doth heshy. Whereas, | had the beast belonged to a sectarian, he might have been highly objec- tionable as a canter. Truly, this is an odd compliment to the Church of England, to eouple it thus adroitly with the Mews. | Lola Montez! | (By Electric Telegraph.]} j Dover, Feb. 24.—9 a. w. Lota Montez has just left Boulogne Pier | (with a bull-dog, a band-box, and a horse-pistol) for this port. | — 103.—Lota has just arrived, and gone to the Ship. She will be | in London at 1; and will immediately proceed to Lorp Sraney’s, to | offer herself as Leader of the Protectionists, | cnaesninichncatntaanictt | THE FRENCH REFORM BANQUET. Tue Deputies only intended to dine; but Lovuts-Pait1prr—in the event of any noise being made for tea—had all the regiments of the line duly prepared to supply the guests with gunpowder. Besides this, all | the guns of the fortifications were heavily shotted, so that the revellers caroused under the inspiration of government grape. Otp Form or a new Remepy.—The Removal of Jewish disabilities will be an operation anything but painless to a certain party in the! House, though brought about by the application of Old Clo’ reform. | amongst deputations by the name of “ He Woon, if he could.” _ Tas Cuancetor or THE Excnequer deals in so many lamenta- tions about not being able to take off any taxes, that he is known A DEFICIENCY SOMEWHERE. ba

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| ‘ SURVEY OF LONDON. ConsIDERABLE alarm has been excited in the minds of some of the Londoners by the ' appearance of soldiers in sundry high and elevated positions commanding the metropolis, : or at least some of the most important parts of it. One of the towers of Westminster Abbey, ‘ which immediately overhangs the Houses of Parliament, is at this moment mysteriously ' manned by a military party, who, it turns out upon inquiry, are engaged in a plan for levelling , the Metropolis at the request of the Sanitary Commissioners. Directly this fact was made ‘ Bur pon’? FIRE IT OFF, YOUNG MaN, TILL I’m Gor By, FoR I Was ALWAYS TERRIBLE | altogether a superb work of art. known, the consternation, particularly that of the lower classes about Tothill Street and its vicinity, increased in a painful degree, for their only idea of the levelling of the Metropolis suggests to them its being levelled with the dust in the ordinary manner. They exclaim that it is the act of an Insanitary rather than a Sanitary Commission to give orders for the levelling of London; and though they have been told that the process includes its triangu- lation, or reduction to triangles, it has been found impossible to drum into them a just appreciation of what is going forward. Some old women cngns to the party of the Duxe or WELLINGTON believe that London is already in the hands of the French, and that they are on the top of the Abbey, holding in abey-ance the formidable power they are about to exercise. It is satisfactory to Soe from Lorp Joun Russe.t, that our foreign relations are in an amicable state; though it will be difficult to make the nervous portion of the population believe this, while military men are walking about the streets with a machine that seems like a cross between a telescope and a howitzer. Engineer. “Don’t? BE ALARMED, Ma’am, It’s oxty A Dumpy LEVELLER.” Old Lady. “Law! Dear now! Wett, I’m sure I tHovent it was A BLUNDERBUST. FEARED OF GuNs.” FINE ARTS. G. Hupsoyn, Esq.: Madame Tussaud Fecit. Tue Iron King is the last addition to Mapame Tussaup’s unrivalled collection. It is| We should, perhaps, have preferred the figure had it been | covered with Dutch metal, as more calculated to strike the vulgar with the awe that all the | lower orders ought to feel on the contemplation of a man with a million or two of money. Madame—as we learn from the catalogue—has very judiciously padded the waistcoat of Mr. Hvupson with Bank paper; and his coat-tail pockets are filled with real sovereigns, | which, upon payment of an extra sixpence, as at the Chamber of Horrors, may be seen and | , handled (of course, under proper surveillance) by the visitors. Independently of this, there is | } | great elevation of character about the figure. The face is placed towards the Mint, and is | possessed with a contemplative, sallow cast of thought, as though arising from an earnest and unceasing study of bullion. . Perhaps throughout the whole collection—composed as it is of the finest specimens of human power and human genius—there is no figure like this, the last, of G. Hupson, Esq., so calculated to make a deep and wholesome impression upon the English mind. What, for instance, is Jenny Lixp? Only a cherubimic genius. What Pore Pius IX.? Only a man who has awakened a nation from the stupor of despair. But Grorce Hupson, Railway Rex, he is the incarnation of wealth, the man of gold, and as such is to be worshipped by every man who glories in the name of Englishman. PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. — PARLIAMENTARY GRAMMAR. SomEsopy—we forget his name—used to stick up his laws with such a tremendously long pole | that nobody could read a word of them. Tt he | had lived in our day he would have posted the | regulations for omnibus-drivers round NELSON’s railing of the top gallery of St. Paul’s, a little London, who in default would be exposed toa penalty. It is true that we do not indulge in |comprekension of those who are compelled to abide by them. One of these plans is to wrap them up in such very mysterious lan no one can understand their meaning. | of our Acts, and to remedy it as far as possible | by starting off with a grammar and dictionary to assist the e that | cocked-hat in Trafalgar Square, and stuck on the placard prescribing some duty to the citizens of | such tricks as these in our own day; but we | adopt other means of placing our laws above the , | Sanitary measure just introduced by Lorp ; | Morretu has the honesty to avow this error | eruser of the intended statute. | | This grammar breaks up all the old connections | of relatives and antecedents; tears asunder the ‘ties that have hitherto existed between singular | 'and plural; contains a separation clause between | ‘masculine and feminine—like that in the old | Poor-law for dividing man and wife; and inflicts , |a series of other violences upon our ideas of pro- | priety in the art and mystery of authorship. | There is, nevertheless, something : straight- | forward, and so far satisfactory, in saying boldly this shall mean that, and that shall mean the other, however different they may appear, in | contradistinction to the old plan of putting into an Act of Parliament a certain number of words without any meaning whatever, and leaving the solution to be arrived at by the lawyers. Every | one knows that a law is, in nine cases out of ten, , no law at all until it has undergone the process of being interpreted by the Judges; and as this interpretation often varies according to the cir- cumstances of the case, we get that charming | variety or glorious uncertainty, for which our laws are remarkable. Prize Problems. . If 54 yards make a perch, how many will make a trout ? II. If 2 hogsheads make a pipe, how many will make a cigar ? . If 60 seconds make a minute, how many minutes make a bottle-holder ? make one thirsty ? __ _Wippicoms? VI. ’ many will make a creditor wait ? Whig Cabinet Pictures. completed) will have frescoes and sculpture like | the House of Lords. We propose as a sugges- | tive subject for one of them, “ Joun Buxt having the Budget applied, under the influence of Chic- roform.” It would come out beautifully as a |“ base relief”’ A blank might be left to be filled up, some hundred years hence, with a companion picture, whenever the Budget was taken off. = be a nice opening for a bit of “high relief.” Printed by William Bradbury, of No. 6. Yor Place, Stoke Newington, aad Frederick Mullett Evans, of No.7, Church Row, Stoke New - . If 2 gallons make one peck, how many will | V. Can you describe a perfect circle without If 16 drachms make a pennyweight, how | We suppose the House of Commons (when ington, both in the County of Middlesex, Printers, at their Office, | in Lombard Streez, in the Precinct of Whitefriara, in the City ot London, and Publishe@ by them at Ne. 8, Fleet Street, in the } Parish of St. Bride, in the C:ty of London.—Satuspay, Fraavanx i 26th, 1848. | a

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ee PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIiVARL 85 | | be executed in platoon by the acceptors themselves) should the usurer| There is no more drunkenness—the wo THE PUNCH RIFLES. ANTED, a few high-spirited young men, who have no objection to serve their QuEEN, smoke a prime Havannah, and go in for a sweep for the Derby. , (Though new to this sort of composition, SERGeantT PuncH has a yp gs in the pro- oan of present Address, it aving been revised by SERGEANT Crimrem, of the Indefencibles, who—for the fee of two pots of ale—has certified it to be “the true bit of gammon, and no mis- take.”) Cotour-SeRGEANT Puncu may be heard of any day at 85, Fleet Street ; having received a_com- mission from his friend the Duke, to raise an invincible Rifle Corps from the fast young fellows of London, to be known as the Punch Rifles; or the Death’s Head and Cross-bone Fascinators. At a moment like the present, when the insulting French are marshalling their forces thick as periwinkles on the coast, the yous British Lion has (except a oyal payment of the Income-tax) one only dutyto fulfil—this is at his over hours to rush to arms; that he may have his bayonet always ready for the haughty stomach of & proud invader. - SERGEANT Puncu is above ad- = dressing himself to the passions of the British youth. Else, he might beg their polite attention to the statue (on horseback) of F. M. tHe Duxe or WELLINGTON. But no: he scorns to ask’em—what should prevent them (every one of ’em) from having a horse apiece out of the gratitude of their countrymen? Szr- GEANT Puncu would not pander to a low passion for renown, but_he cannot help remarking that should the French come—as they certainly will—laurels will be found growing as thick and as green upon Dover beach, as upon the rock of Gibraltar, or the field of Waterloo. . How beautiful is the Bed of Glory, when Britannia—like a weeping Chambermaid—tucks her heroes up to rest ! . SeRGEANT Puncu does not wish to inflame the passions of the young men of London; but he feels himself called upon—in the words of a great powder-monkey, that has seen the world, to exclaim—“ Open your eyelids—rise upon your legs—or be for ever in the dirt!” en the Guards quit London ex echellon by Hyde Park—how gal- lantly will the Punch Rifles deploy, in a half-moon, by the Regent’s Crescent ! Therefore, all young men who are tired of “the governor,” rush to Serceant Puncu, 85, Fleet Street. Bounty, amy amount—and the latch-key up to any hour. ; One tier of boxes is engaged at the Opera for the Punch Rifles during the campaign. However, as a slight reward for alacrity, the last fifty who enlist can have no other accommodation than the stalls. The Morning Roll will be served precisely at eleven. After which, reading the morning papers in close column. At one, rifle exercise will take place in Trafalgar Fe where a full attendance of nursery maids and others may be confidently expected. (None but the brave deserve the fair.) At three, the corps will march off the ground (in summer, to Grarn- GER’s for ices; in winter, for soup). At five, in summer, the. is expected to show in the Park; horses (Barry’s best) being provided for the occasion. The medical certificate of a well-known physician can alone excuse from this otherwise indis- pensable duty. Dinner at the mess at eight: (tumblers, comic-singers, droll story- tellers, and conjurors, hired to come in with the dessert.) No furlough above a month for Brighton, or wherever pressing business may call, can at one time be granted. There is no doubt, however, that it will always be renewed upon polite application to head-quarters. A money-lender is provided at the barracks, to discount the bills of the corps to any sum, it being made death by martial law (a sentence to f he nost brilliant colour ; in fact showing the force to be the greenest of the green. The braiding will be very curious and remarkably handsome, being composed of the hair of a number of devoted young women who have shorn themselves in anticipatory admiration of the Cross-bone Fascinators. His Royau Hicuness Prince ALBERT, to crown the glory of the corps, has, in the handsomest manner, invented a cap for it; having eondescended to take as his model, Punch’s own. It is not yet deter- mined whether the aforesaid cap will have bells; but if so, the corps — rest assured they will be of the very best and most melodious silver. And now, fast young men of London, rush to Serczant Poncn, who, at 85, Fleet Street, sits with open cheque-book. Come, and drink the health of your QuEEN in sparkling Champagne! (N.B. Tokay provided for those who prefer it.) A fig for all “‘ governors,” and hurrah for Pusch’s Rifles ! *,* Any spirited body of young tambour-workers may have their own price for a handsome pair of colours. A CATCH FOR THE CABINET. Ain—“ Here’s a Health to all Good Lasses.” THE PREMIER AND THE CHANCELLOR OF THE EXCHEQUER. Come; we’ll tax the middling classes ; Load them heavily—passive asses !— Let us crush them to the ground! Let us fleece them of their treasure, Without mercy, without measure, For in patience they abound! THE PREMIER, Fear no rumpus. THE CHANCELLOR OF THE EXCHEQUER. —Grind those classes ! aa THE PREMIER, Tax their incomes— THE CHANCELLOR OF THE EXCHEQUER. assive asses ! ; : OMNES. Since in patience they abound, Let us crush them to the ground ! FISTICUFFS AT CAMBRIDGE. Accorp1nc to the Zimes, gown and town riots have been lately very prevalent at Cambridge. The Proctors have been obstructed in the erformance of their duty in conveying dissolute characters to the ‘Spinning House.” The townsmen have rallied round the rogues and vagabonds, and the Under-graduates round the Proctors. Saturday has been the great field-day for these skirmishes, owing to the influx into Cambridge on that day of bargees and butchers; in ‘gen wogge of the peas of which description of persons, the scales of victory have generally turned on the side of the butchers. It is much to be wished that these Saturnalia, or Saturday-nalia, could be put a stop to. It may be all very well that Proctors should be Wranglers, but it is rather unseemly that they should also be fighters. The Worst Come at Last. Some idea may be formed of the distressing effect of the new Budget on the public mind, by the following anecdote, for the authenticity of which we pledge our character and our cocked-hat :—An individual who was brooding over the financial statement, suddenly started up with a loud yell of Eureka! and a frantic exclamation that he caught a pun. The moment the poor fellow’s senses had settled down sufficiently to allow him to explain his meaning, he declared that the tax on Income being odious, might be called a very IncomE-op1ous Tax indeed. The patient seemed better when this weight was taken off his mind, and he was as well as could be expected when we last inquired. Fashionable Changes. Tre use of Chloroform has become so general, that we should not wonder at. cases of insensibility being brought up before the Magistrates. How horrible it would be to read in the police reports, “ Miss TomKINS fined 5s. for being found insensible under the influence of Chloroform.” A change has come o’er the spirit of our drams! We no longer drink —we only breathe. Drunkards are lea away now literally by the nose. for it is “obliviousness.” | dare to negotiate the paper ! 'Fatuer Matuew will have to start a “ Total-Chloroform-and-Ether- | The umform of the Punch Rifles will be awfully beautiful, and Abstinence Pledge! VOL. XIV K

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86 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI MYSTERIES OF THE INITIALS. \ \ aN) \; \ \\e SA 14 ‘\ 4 ‘\, Who is not acquainted with the second column of the Times? It is the spot where fond initials love to discourse; it is the electric tele- graph between the most distant letters of the alphabet. It is the em eng hs ms | between father and son; the dispassionate mediator between husband and wife. It has other duties, also. It is in the second column generally that parcels, earts, and horses, that have been left too long, appeal to their owners to be taken away, or else they will be sold to pay expenses. Heirs-at-Law, who went to bed last night without a sixpence, find themselves the following morning the owners of thousands, and the second column is the first to bring them the pleasant information. Its generosity does not end here. It is con- tinually offering tempting rewards for information, and giving the best price for old evidence, or mislaid deeds, lost lap-dogs, and absent keys of tea-caddies. It is also the shady lane where parted lovers agree to meet, and plan their little plots against parental despotism. A beautiful poem, full of romance and sad reality, might be written upon the second column of the Times, and if Mr. Cotsurn will allow us our own terms, we don’t mind doing it. We would clothe the naked initials with the most glittering names, dress up the blanks most gor- geously, and ornament those long dashes in the most approved style of fashionable agony. Every “‘break” should have its due share of pathos, every advertisement its full three volumes. In the meantime, we give a vivid illustration of A. B., who was implored in last Monday’s paper to return to his disconsolate friend, and everything would be ameneed to his satisfaction. C.D., in the background, is the imploring m or. PASTIMES OF THE CITY POLICE. Tue Police in general should be an active body of men; but activity ought to be the peculiar attribute of the City Policemen. ALDERMAN Wurson lately stated, under an official examination, that he “has heard the Police say that it is very difficult to catch a thief in Smithfield, because he jumps into the pens, and they cannot catch him.” The City Police must be put under a course of gymnastic exercises, and practised in vaulting and leaping at the bar, in order that they may be enabled to compete with the thieves at this unequal game of hide-and- seek. Perhaps the City authorities would do well to select their constables from the peculiar sect called Jumpers We did not know till now that one of the “vested interests” of Smithfield consisted in its being a playground for thieves and policemen. This, however, is one of those interests which we would respect; and we would therefore | have the cattle-market and 7 removed, that the parties might play t | at prisoners’ base with a lit e more chance of prisoners being taken. SUDDEN DELTH OF MR. WHIG. WE regret to announce the sudden demise of this respected gentle- Office, No. 332, Stzand He had been for some time in a delicate state of health ; and it was plain to his oldest friends and acquaintance that his mind had, for some time past, been somewhat wandering and un- considerable energy and strai, htforwardness, somewhat sudden; and though no inquest was held upon his remains, there is a suspicion rife in the neighbourhood ‘and elsewhere, that he did not come to his end by fair means. It is, indeed, very loudly whispered that his brains were knocked out by a bag of money. The truth of this, however, time will develop. The business of the deceased continues to be carried on by another party. It is honourable to the feelings of the successors of the departed, that they did not attempt to interfere with the expression of woe indulged in by the household of the defunct, all of whom have been presented with decent weepers, tastefully borrowed from the back numbers of the Chronicle. And in these days of political tergiversation, it is peculiarly grateful to record the devotion of one mourner—a gentle- man from the sister-iske—who, upon hearing of the decease of Mr. Wuic, and of the succession of the purchaser of the effects of the defunct, instantly drank off the contents of his inkstand, shivered the vessel to atoms upon the floor, cut his goose-quill, took his hat, and rushed for ever from the premises. “THE KING CAN DO NO WRONG.” broken rail, or a drunken engineer. ‘his monster danger is the presence of Kine Hupson in the train. His Majesty is, it appears, in the habit of stopping in his royal progresses for odd jobs, official gossips, hasty snacks, receiving addresses, laying foundation-stones, &c., and the time consumed in these stoppages is made up by a tremendous increase of trasts to the hardness of his material, and perhaps confides in the no such comfort or confidence. “‘ Quidguid delirant reges, plectuntur be Fag to suggest that a Royal Train should be kept exclusively for His Majesty and suite, as, after all, kingship should always be a limited monarchy, and cannot extend, with any safety to Constitutions, over the lives and limbs of persons subject to be smashed. At present “ passenger-returns.” THE ST. JAMES’S CLOCK. Tuts disreputable Aor/oge is continuing its irregularities notwith- standing the kindly notice we have taken from time to time of the vagaries it has been in the habit of practising. Latterly it has hecome actually incoherent in its speech, and when it proceeds to make itself repeated the hour of twelve twice over, in a manner far more striking gusted and puzzled by this twice-told tale with which the clock had been misleading its auditors. its hand, the garrulous uncertainty of its clapper, or tongue, and other melancholy symptoms. The clock was, in fact, presented to the parish by QuEEN ANNz, and if that is the case, the case must be worn out, while the minute dots marking the minutes, may be regarded as the signs of second dotage. , Workhouse Wine. A CORRESPONDENT of the Times states that in the Sussex Union three paupers ‘‘ were ordered port wine by the surgeon of the Union, and in each case home-made port only was allowed by the Board of Guardians—the home-made port being ‘a species of sloe-juice,’? which was procured at the grocer’s shop, at 1s. 6d. tue bottle.” Of course. What can be more in accordance with the workhouse system than the harshness of the sloe? What more incompatible with it than the generosity of the grape? All circumstances reviewed, the end of the deceased may be considered | man, that took place a few days ago at his residence, Morning Chronicle | settled upon topics, which, for many years, he had discussed with | _ Ir seems generally admitted that there is one thing more dangerous | in railway travelling than either a long-bodied engine, a leaky boiler, a | pace, which often ends in a smash, as appears from two or three recent | newspaper accounts of accidents so caused. The Iron King, no doubt, | monarchical principle “The King never dies.” But his subjects have | Achivi ;” orin English, “ Passengers suffer for the absurdity of kings.” | no man ever starts on a railway trip with Kine Hupson, without anti- | cipating a premature arrival at that terminus from which there are no | heard, it goes on at such an extraordinary rate that a few days ago it | than comprehensible. The inhabitants were ot course very much dis- | We have made inquiries into the circumstances of this unhappy | clock, and find that extreme old age may account for the trembling of |

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 87

THE DETOXICANT.

——S x — a A piscovery of an article called a Detoxicant has just been made; but what a Detoxicant is, we are at present quite incapable of deter- mining. As far as lexicography can assist us, a Detoxicant seems t0 be something exactly opposite to an intoxicant, and is doubtless of a nature to de-toxicate any one already labouring under some intoxicating influ- ence. If we are correct in our surmise, the detoxicant ought to be placed in the hands of every member of the police force, for the purpose of facilitating the management and subjuga- tion of those refractory persons who happen to be excited by too much drink. The detoxicant is doubt- less some liquid of the chloroform nature, and will be the best substitute for the violent action of the stretcher that can Y ogrnd be conceived. he an- nexed illustrations show the repentant individual soothed by the detoxicant, in contrast to the furious drunkard, whom a stretcher is necessary to control and remove.

THE “FRIAR LAURENCE” OF TUAM. Tue Bishop or Tuaw, in another long letter—reeled off. like twine from a roller—to the Ear or SHREWSBURY, gives the following simples as the materials from which his lordship has extracted public opinion in England :— “The hemlock of the Times, the nettles of the Examiner, the docks of the Morning Post, and the poppies of the Morning Chronicle.” The meek and pious man of St. Jarlath’s mightily reminds us of Friar Laurence, “with a basket,” about to tarn over the leaves of Ais morning simples :— ** Now, ere the sun ad i ¥ The day to cheer, ond night a te dry, I must up-fill this osier cage of ours With baleful weeds, and precious-juiced flowers.” And the Friar of St. Jarlath’s, having culled the Times, the Morning Post, the Chronicle—with an i icking from the Zxaminer— casts the simples into the alembic of his own malice, and therefrom extracts the “leprous distilment” wherewith he writes his Christian communications !

Chloroform at Billingsgate. In the shop of the benevolent and poetic Taytor, of Lombard Street, there is—we learn from a correspondent—this benign notice :— p opened, and their beards taken off, under the influence of Chloroform!” A greater wonder, however, is achieved at Billingsgate ; for there eels are skinned under the like circumstances; and, in the words of our correspondent (evidently a female), “they are skinned and know no more of having their coats husband.” The simile is alike flattering to eels and husbands. As Broap as IT 1s Lowe.—Mr. Anstey’s Motion would have formed a capital barricade at Paris, as we have not heard of a single person who has been able to get over it.

taken off than a ’toxicated l THE MARKETS. Ir is a saying no less trite than true, that song can elevate the lowest themes, and that metre, if it is only gas metre or coal metre, gives dignity to the subject to which it is applied. Acting on this impression, we have endeavoured to impart an interest even to the state of the Markets, by throwing them into verse. We imagine a mercantile man attempting to entice the votary of pleasure to the pursuits of business by —< his attention to the prices of the day, through the captivating medium. of song. Am— The Light Guitar.” Oh leave the gay, the festive scene, Casino’s dazzling light, And come with me, for now I mean My City news to write. And as I note the oats and hays, The iron—pig or bar, ; The . the barley, and the maize, I'll say what prices are. I’ll tell thee how the mutton leapt From five to six the stone, And how inferior beef was kept At rates before made known; I’ll tell thee how fat lambs were high— As fat lambs always are ; And if the tail you’d wish to buy, I’d get thee one at par.

NATURAL PHENOMENON. One of the most remarkable of natural phenomena is the wonderful effect produced upon the age of a child by its becoming a passenger by a railway or on board a steam-boat. In the earlier stages of juvenility it is a singular fact that infants who have for some time maintained a respectable footing, relapse suddenly into the position of children in arms, for whom, it will be remembered, no fare is payable. Perhaps, however, the most astounding result is shown in the variableness of the human stature amongst children under ten years of age, as exem- = by the payment of half fares at railway stations aa on steam- oats. It is of course impossible to doubt the assertions made by the parties on these occasions; but we think it might be made a sine gud non with every boy under ten, whose height is above five feet, to produce the register of the date of his birth, before being entitled to travel as a half-price passenger. There ought really to be some Statute of Limitations passed in favour of steamboat and railway Directors, so that the half-fare regula- tion should be confined to individuals not exceeding a certain height ; or the Company—like the cabmen—might have the option of charging either by time or by measurement. Some arrangement of the kind is imperatively called for, now that the season for Teenie is coming on, or the traflic accounts will suffer by the deception of those who, — their high standing, ought to be above a practice worthy only of ittleness.

THE WINDOW-TAX. oop Mr. Puncs, THE Opera has begun: and allow me to suggest to the CHANCELLOR or THE Ex- CHEQUER, that, if he is still determined to 1\ make the poor pay for their window-glass, that the rich ought to be taxed for their | opera-glass. Neither do I see why people wearing spectacles ought not to pay the window-tax.

The Question of the Day. Mr. Bricur, in his place in the House of Commons, asked the following question, which we print, as it ought to be printed, in capital etters :— “Wuy was MERE INcoME FROM TRADE TO BE CHARGEABLE IWAN EQUAL DEGREE WITH THE INCOME DRAWN PROM ReaL Proverty P ‘Ans. Because it is the owners of Real Property who regulate the charge upon Income from Trade.

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88 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. LITTLE LESSONS FOR LITTLE STATESMEN. In Words of One Syllable. SS NS SS 4b THE BAD BOY WHO SAID HE DIDN'T CARE. THERE was once a Boy, who was a Small, but a Good Boy, and his name was Jack. Now Jack had a snug Place, but he had a great deal of Work to do in his Place, that he might keep it, which it was hard to do at all Times, for there were some who would have been glad to get him out. But though Jack was a Good Boy, he was rash, and when he had the wish to do a thing on which he had set his Heart, he would make up his Mind that, let who would say “Nay” to him, he would go on with his Work, and run all Risks to gain his Point. No one could blame Jack for this, when he was right, but it might chance that he would be wrong; and still he would say all the same, “That he did not care, for he would try and gct his Way for all that.” So, once on a Time, he met with a fine Brute,* who would roar out and grow fierce if a Slight were to be put on him. But Jack was so rash that he made up his Mind to fly in the Face of this fine Brute, who was, in fact, the King of Beasts, and whose Roar was so loud and so fierce as to strike all who heard it with great Awe. But Jack, who thought the King of Beasts had put on a fierce Look, and set up a fierce Roar in a mere Joke, did still say he did not care, till once Jack came right Face to Face with the King of Beasts, who was in a great Rage, and Poor Jack, who felt he was too weak to brave the Rage of a Brute so bold and so strong, did run back in time from the Course in which he had set out. At least we hope that the Boy Jacx will be a Good Boy, and will be so wise as to take our hint, for Jack ought to know by this time that “ Don't Care came to a Bad End.” CHARMING SIMPLICITY. A youre goin, seeing several tickets in a haberdasher’s window, announcing en’s Woollen Comforters, Stout Men’s Night Caps, and Superior Cotton Men’s Hose, went into the shop to inquire whether fe could be pro- vided with any of the Mens conscia recti, which he understood to be the best comforter in the world. ® The British Lion, FASHIONABLE LABORATORIES CHEMIcAL evening parties now are all the rage. About a year ago nothing was heard of in fashionable circles but gun-cotton. Ether then was introduced after coffee, and flirtations carried on without either party being sensible—as is often the case in such matters—of what they were saying. Now Chloroform has invaded our parlours and our drawing-rooms. It is the inspiration of all our balls, and it is almost dangerous to talk at a soirée now; for at the very first breath you may forget yourself and behave in the most senseless manner. It will be the etiquette this season, we suppose, to ask a young lady, not to take an ice, but “a glass of Chloroform ;” and after-supper speeches will be conducted by the host inquiring of his guests, “ Now, oe are you all Chlo- roformed ?” and then he will deliver relief, probably, of the company. 7 This chemical joviality, however, must be avery great saving. We don’t know the exact price of Chloroform, but a whole hogshead of | it cannot be so expensive, we imagine, as cold chickens and barley- sugar pagodas, to say nothing of boxbom mottoes and crackers, for a toast, to the very great | hundred people. We doubt if Farapay would charge for a supper | as much as GunTER; though, in enjoying our mi ght meal we | must say that the economy of it is the very last thing that enters , into our thoughts, or mouth, either. We would sooner have one tumbler of camgagee than the very best bottle of Chloroform you ; could offer us. own way of becoming so. Female Disabilities. WE wonder that the ladies, who are so easily agitated, have not rticipated in the agitation for removing Parliamentary Disabi- ities. There is much to be said in behalf of their claims to Mem- bership of the House of Commons. They constitute a large number of important interests; for instance, the Silk interest, the Leghorn interest, and the French glove and shoe interest are almost exclu- we are to be insensible, we prefer choosing our ; sively composed of them. It is obviously absurd to pretend that they , would be unable to speak; the contrary objection, indeed, would be ! better founded; but from no female tongue in England, we will un- dertake to say, would the House ever endure such an infliction as | that which it suffered the other night from Mr. CuisHotm AnsTEY’s, | SYMPATHY. cx. ase = Omnibus Driver. “ Tus 18 oRRIBLE VuRK IN Panis, Sin. Vy, THEY TELL ME THEY'VE BIN AND BURNT ALL THE Busszs!” Affecting Incident. On a recent trial, Mr. Firzpat, the lyric poet, was examined as a witness; and, on being asked what was the period of the year at which some event occurred, he said, with singular pathos, “It was the summer-time ; for, I remember, the flowers were in bloom.” How beautiful is this lingering of the poet’s recollections round the flower-pots of other days! How charming the picture of Mz. FitzBa.1’s fancy, packed up in a mignionette-box, or climbing up a piece of string towards the full-blown scarlet bean! We have shed nearly a gill of genuine tears over this truly affecting point in the poet’s evidence. Eheu! Eheu! Nos miserrimos!

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Foye V new a B i , , ae, a iy 1 4j// 4 a * « / ye G Z od ye “4 A a) ‘ Kon 4’ y \ Z 4 \) iy sii : Vy) 4 , hi 4 35s SHAMEFUL ATTEMPT AT OVERCHARGE. Mr. Bull (a Commercial Gentleman). “‘ Hatto, Warren! 5 per Cent. Income Tax! Way, rr was OnLy 3 PER CENT. LAST YEAR. YOUR MISTRESS DON’T KNOW OF THIS, I ’M suRE. You ’D BETTER MIND WHAT YOU ’RE ABOUT! ” John (the Waiter). ‘* We.t, Sir, IF YOU THINK IT TOO MUCH, WELL TAKE IT OFF THE BILL.” _ SAAR ine ne aon i pecans acnmaeatnneia aan PIE NIO me iaenian

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ee PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL POST-OFFICE LABOURS. THERE is something giishle in the probable position of the postmen, who upon the new regulation coming into force for the transmission of books by post, will be obliged to ~~ about with whole libraries upon their shoulders. The ordinary little leathern bag will be rendered utterly useless; and nothing short of a porter’s knot will suffice for the new burdens the postmen will have to bear. We do not, in fact, see how one man can accomplish a delivery under the new arrangement ; and it will be necessary for the Post-Office to Provide trucks immediately, to be drawn by two or more postmen, in order to convey the piles and packages of printed volumes that will be forwarded through the post. We are not very desirous to see an increase of the Estimates; but we do hope, that since it has been determined to require a combination of the strength of Hercutes with the activity of Mercury, the poor postman will get some addition to his present paltry salary. A GENUINE “DOO.” _Tue subscribers of the Art-Union were surprised last week with the distribution of a print which has been due we cannot tell how long. Many could scarcely believe their eyes; others sent it back as a mistake ; whilst a few looked upon it m the light of a large Valentine the title and — very much helping that impression. They could not understand why a soldier should have chosen a large roll of flannel | to sit upon in the open air. We have taken the trouble to look at the | print twice, and must say, it does not appear anything like a riddle to us, for it is just as bad as any of the prints that have preceded it. We could trace a great deal that was unfinished—as if the engraving had been done in too great a hurry. We implore the Committee to take more time over their next specimen. It is a pity a print should be spoilt for the want of a few years to perfect it. The “Convalescent” ought never to have come out, properly, before 1858, and we are sure many subscribers would have been better pleased if it had been deferred even later. We are sorry to see sucha fme Society hastening its own ruin. We are loth to condemn, but it must be recollected we have proofs of the very blackest dye before us. The Queen of Spain a Jewess. We learn that at a late grand fancy ball at Madrid, the Queen oF Spain appeared sumptuously drest and diamonded as aJewess. Baron Roruscuixp, had he seen her, would, it is thought, have lent mone enough upon Her Majesty wherewith to satisfy all the English bond- holders. There are various reasons — for this assumption of the Hebrew lady by Her Majesty. The one best authenticated is the following :—She appeared as a Jewess, having no fear that her matri- monial happiness would ever induce her to claim the Flitch of Bacon. “© A SEWING MACHINE.” Tuts invention has been recently exhibited at the Royal Institution. The stitches, larger or smaller, are made by “turning a screw.” Is there anything new in this? On the contrary: have not English shirt- makers—sewing-machines of flesh and blood—been made to work for FASHIONS FORETOLD FOR THE FAIR. Tue Ladies are sadly puzzled to understand the articles appearing in the newspapers under the heading ‘‘ Money-Market and City Intelli- |gence.” They wonder how the prospects of the country can be affected by a dull row of digits and confused fractions. ‘“ What has the War with France to do,” they ask, “with ‘Reduced 3 per Cents. at 72324, steady buyers ?’” : But though all this is Greek to them, yet the Ladies have their revenge. Is there aman in England bold enough to declare that he thoroughly comprehends the monthly descriptions of “ The Fashions ?” Our vain search for such a man had wahalab lapsed into silent despair when an individual presented himself who asserted that he hai discovered the secret of these mysterious compositions. Puxch is too patriotic to patent the discovery; and in color triumphantly to con- vince his fair readers that the cabalistic paragraphs alluded to, are now perfectly intelligible to any gentleman who peruses them, he begs to subjoin a specimen by the inventor of this new mode. _ i It will be observed that the author has no difficulty in prescribing Fashions for a period in advance. Indeed this wondertul man con- fessed to us, that the chief direction to be attended to, was to interlard the sentences well with French—never minding, of course, whether the foreign terms were apposite or not. MARCH FASHIONS. Morning Attire—Gimp is as much in request as last month for the bodies of sleeves and morning dresses. Skirts generally oritigns, and flounced with zicken of some lively hue, as puce, or apropos. The head-dress sometimes finished with a derthe. Walking Costume.—Dimity boas are now quite in fashion. Gowns should be of the elegant shape called ¢romsseaur, or looped with attache. Ladies moving in the highest‘ circles are not unfrequently seen in bonnets of rechauffé trimmed with corduroy to match. A light scarf of quilted crenoline, or a shawl lined with artiste or coupé, gives a meer finish to a good figtre. Cowp @cuil is not so much in vogue or muffs; but those made of d/asé, are beginning to be the rage. Parasols, to be in the highest fashion, should be of dombazine a la récherché, but we have noticed a few of the beautiful fabric carte blanche. Exening Dress—The hair should be dressed @ la papier mdché for young agers but those who wear caps should have them high in the stomacher, which looks well when made of printed ¢effeta. Gingham is now the favourite colour for trimmings, and the dias should be wholly of brown Holland, and placed cap-a-pied, the curtains being dependant from the point d’appui of the gusset. A distinguished belle, a leader_of ton, lately appeared in the ball-room carrying a tuck in her hand. Mauvais swet isin high favour for handkerchiefs; but papillots for shoes are quite gone out. RIVAL MONSTERS. Two Exhibitions of a somewhat similar nature have taken place in London during the same week. We mean the Whale at the Fox- under-the-Hill, and Mr. Cuisnorm AnstEey’s Monster Motion. They have both been exhibited on the banks of the Thames. The first measures fifty-six feet; and, though no one has had the patience to measure the second, still there is not the smallest doubt that it is longer, if anything, than the first. It is just the same dead lumber, also—nothing but a large, heavy mass of useless matter, scarcely worth the cutting up. It is lucky the same process of preserving it not een tried by means of the diodorizing fluid, or else it might have encumbered the floor of the House of Commons for months, and have obstructed the regular current of business. " ’ _ We propose that the two monster curiosities be exhibited side by side, so that their gigantic oe may be viewed together, just for the absurdity of the thing. e are inclined to believe that Mn. Anstey’s Monster Motion would decidedly win by several lengths, as it is well known that the jaw of the whale is exceedingly small. In fact, several Members have declared the impeachment of Lorp PALMERSTON to be so excessively “like a whale,” that if it were extended along the one now lying near Hungerford Bridge, that competent judges would really be puzzled to say which was which, and which of the two lied to the greater extent. Episcopal. Ir is not often that the Brsnor or Exeter treats himself to a harm- less jest. He is, constitutionally, much too serious for that. Within these few days, however, Doctor Puttrorts has perpetrated a joke of the sardonic order. When the Bisnop or St. Davin’s avowed that he saw no harm in the Popr’s title of “Sovereign Pontiff,” the BisHor oF Exeter, with pointed allusion to his Welsh brother, declared “ that it was no wonder the boat of the Church was in danger of sinking, with farthings, and only by “ turning a screw?” so large a leak in it!”

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92 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. A CASE OF REAL DISTRESS. — ; ! oe ; ee ae o—— Soa WANTED ~~ = ] - FEW SPIRMED | — { P al + [7] Youwe MEN = 7 Toa LEAD THE sient ~| PROTECTION (ST a - PARTY, [voJew weep APPLY. — {" | | .. | | W7 : ee pa Hi) \\ _— —~—./ te : ¢ “ th S NW ~ a 1} Ss Sy a i ee o SES Be a q sia: = SSS THERE is always something melancholy about nobility in reduced circumstances ; but the present distressed state of the British Lion is one of the saddest spectacles of fallen greatness that ever was known. Unhappily the British Lion is quite unable to turn his hand to anything to enable him to get an honest livelihood, and he has not even the art of caligraphy to resort to for the purpose of embellishing the pavement with the words, of am starving,” or any other similar appeal to the sympathies of the public at large. The Protectionist party can do nothing for him, and have ceased to value even his roar, though we cannot blame them on this account, for a mere roarer is rather an unprofitable sort of animal after all. We wish there were some place at which the British Lion could be atonce “taken in and done for,” since it is next to impossible that the poor brute could have its damaged constitution freshened up, for it is evidently ee all hope of repair. The feebleness of the beast prevents him from becoming dangerous, or some om vision might be made for him, under the pretext of its being unsafe to let him remain at large, LORD DUNCAN’S PROTECTIVES, Lorp Douwcay, in moving for the repeal of the Window Tax, is reported to have proposed, as a measure of economy, that instead of keeping up the 5000 men who were coming home from the East and West Indies, we should put a musket into the hands of each member of the ne oy ay Police Force, and thus render that Force a military defence for the Metropolis in case of invasion. ; There certainly is something in this proposal for boiling our civil ¢estacea—making the blue one red—for the uniform, of course, would change to the military, with the metamorphosis of the truncheon into the musket. The Police are not unprac- tised in desperate charges: besides, they have long been accustomed to defend our hearths and homes from burglars. At all events, they would greatly embarrass the French; who, as their late insurrectionary movements clearly show, have no notion of what it is to cope with an effective Police. eee me — Beauty of the Budget. _Lorp Jonny Russext has been very much abused for his Budget. Certainly it is the evil reward of statesmen to have the world lynx-eyed and mole-eared to their short- comings, but blind and deaf to their works. Everybody, we say, abuses the Budget. This is too bad. True it is, LonpD Joxn claps five per cent. upon working Jouw Buu, as civilly as though five per cent. were a fillet of roses. JoHN must pay a shilling in the pound Income Tax. Well, is the evil unaccompanied by good? Does not | hus, if our number | of shillings be smaller, mayn’t we reasonably hope that the } Loxp Joun take the duty off copper ? size of our farthings may be bigger? What, then, matters an increase of taxes, if farthings are made the larger to pay | it with? ART AMONG THE LAMP-POSTS. Tue love of Art is, we are delighted to perceive, mani- festing itself in every direction, and a demand is now made for its application to the lamp-posts of the metropolis. We have no 0 on to the cry of “4 Ja lanterne” for such an object as this, and we hope to see Smith Street illuminated with blazonry sonnet to the house of Smitu, and Elizabeth Row adorned with Elizabethan lamp-posts. The neighbourhood of such Temples of Art as Her Majesty’s Theatre might be embellished with appropriate arrange- a for lighting, after the accompanying exquisite esign— and our old favourite, Golden Square, should have a gigantic Dawa inthe centre—vice GrorcE THE First, M —and shedding a radius of gas-lamps in the form of a shower of gold. IMPORTANT QUERY. Q. Wuen may a man be said to rise with the occasion ? A, When he goes up in a balloon! amised | —— =» Ht

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" PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 93 “THE THREE BIRTHS OF FRANCE.” UP from the coast post follows post ; each minute brings its tale ; Rumour meets rumour open-mouthed, and feverish and pale: Along the wires electric fires flash tidings to and fro; A great world-birth is breeding—France is again in throe. Two such births she had borne before—the first, an awful birth, A giant with a bloody hand, its stamp still stains the earth; For blood, not milk, his mother’s breasts he tore with hunger keen, His lullaby the Carmagnole, his toy the guillotine. But races twain met in his strain with adverse workings strong, An angel and a devil—pure Right, and ‘hideous Wrong : This urged his red right hand to slay, that moved his left to save, Half murderer, half martyr, half hero, and half slave. The tomb that closed upon him closed on his evil too; But the good bore fruit and flourished, and gave birth to good anew ; And the world sees in his memory, with wonder and with awe, How bannings grew to blessings, and lawlessness to law. The great light of the future was gathered in his gloom ; The great tree of the future hath its roots within his tomb. And the wisdom of the wise has taught how, in that wintry mom Of the closing eighteenth century, a mighty child was born. And forty years had sped away, and in the summer prime France was in child-birth pangs again, as in that earlier time ; And Europe watched around the bed where that fair mother lay, And a second Revolution came to the light of day. A milder, meeker, gentler child than that first giant he, No blood-stain on his hand was seen, to check the gossips’ glee; Yet stern of look, and sinewy, more mighty, as more mild, Was he the world then welcomed, a bland and blameless child. No Ca Ira rang round his bed, no red cap decked his brow, And the world said, “ Surely France will be a happy mother now!” He had all his brother’s beauty, but nothing of his frown, More than his strength for building up, if less for pulling down. And for a nursing father they gave the child a king, And they girt him round with charters, and laws, a stately ring, And they looked to see him grow to man in free, unchecked advance, To be a blessing to the world, a glory unto France. A wily man that fosterer was—he had lessons learnt enow, And men read Right and Law and Truth, writ on his wrinkled brow. And much he talked of honour, and much of Peace did phrase, That Monarch of the Barricades, King of the glorious Days. “T’}l rear this child on truth,” he:said. He reared it all on lies, “Tts freedom I will strengthen.” He sapped its liberties. “T live for it and France.” Both France and it lived but for tim. “T°ll make its name-all glorious.” He stained its honour dim. For the guard of law about the child, he placed a guard of swords, Its craving for realities he fed with hollow words; For its loving friends of liberty he paid to despots court, And when it asked for guarantees, he built it up a fort. Whenever he said Principle, behold it turned to Pelf; Whenever he said Country, behold it turned to Self. Till the infant’s strength grew weakness, its constitution shrunk, And helot-like it walked the world, with wine of falsehood drunk. No wonder that the child grew sad and sickened, day by day ; No wonder those who loved it fell, one by one, away ; No wonder all the hopes that smiled around it at its birth Sunk, slow and silent, from its path, and left its heart a dearth. We heard the tale with sorrow—yet dreamed we nought the more That the last hour was nigh at hand, the footstep at the door; But so it is—its drink, its meat, empoisoned all with lies, That second child, at bare seventeen, a rotten carcase dies ! And France is in the throes again, and who upon the earth May say what frame and feature will mark this latest birth ? But take warning, anguished mother, from the sad tale we have told» Beware such kings for fosterers—kings who love lies and gold. A Bank of Character and Skill. No one can deny the Scotch credit for being at least an ingenious people; and if any proof ot their being so were desired, it would be found in the title at the head of this article. Some gentle- men at Glasgow are trying to start a “ Bank of Character and Skill,” into which any one may pay in what Character he possesses, and draw it out again as he happens to want it. It seems to be ‘oposed that every customer of the Bank should draw bills upon himself, or give promissory notes in his‘own favour, and that these should be dis- counted by the establishment upon no other > — the bonus he pays by way of entrance- fee. This bonus is regulated in a style that says much for the odd ———- our Scotch friends have of the value of reputation in different capa- cities. A og ris put on a par with a governess, for the fee expected from each, on Opening an account with the Bank of Character, is five shillings. 4 = a - Ue vs Pa value of bm wr and we think therefore the w 0 to rise up and protest against the estimate of “ half-a-crown to five shillings,” at ain the Bank of Character has rated them, the former sum being the same as that demanded from “a footman of the first class,” if he should be disposed to pay in his Character to the Bank in questien. There is one portion of the operations of the Bank that puzzles us a great deal; namely, how the department for the deposit of Skill is to be conducted. We are at.a loss to perceive in what shape such deposits can be effected. Is:a Sdteenaih for instance, to send in to the Bank a portrait of her mistress dressed for a Ball? or is a nurse expected to deposit an infant with the Bank as a proof of her Skill in looking afterit? A first-class footman could perhaps —- a mould of his false calves, in which his Skill might be satisfactorily shown; but when we get to gamekeepers, cooks, ship-masters, and Government officials, the shape their deposits of Skill would assume puzzles us exceedingly. Perhaps some of the Directors will give us some information on this head, and at all events let us know whether a deposit of this article with the Bank, as a specimen of the author’s literary Skill, will be sufficient to obtain for him a thousand a year as a contributor to a solvent, well- paying, liberal periodical. We shall have no objection to keep a balance of a couple of conundrums, or a five-pun note, in the hands of the Directors, if they can insure for us, by way of interest, an income of afew hundreds a year as perpetual punster to one of the Quarterlies. A Compliment to our Neighbours. Barser, the attorney found guilty of forging a will, and transported for life, has felt the eccentric mercy of the Home Office. He has been conditionally pardoned, that he does not return to England. He is now in France. Surely something must be wrong here. Either the man is innocent, and ought to be welcomed with every sympathy to his native country, or he is guilty, and ought—considering the gravity of his offence—ought to remain still a convict. But the Home Office tempor- izes, suffering the man to go anywhere but home. He is now in Paris. Very well. The Home Office—it is a compliment—may think him honest enough for France, but not sufficiently Goons for England. SOFT YOU! A WORD OR TWO. Mr. AnstEy’s impeachment of Lorp Patmersrton is the most com- plete realisation of SHaksPeaRe’s idez of a “soft impeachment,” for it 1s certainly the softest impeachment that was ever known.

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94 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL FLUTTERING OF THE FEATHERED TRIBE. Tue birds have been thrown into a state of the utmost consternation | by the proceedings of Mz. Canrexo, who has overturned, or threatens to overturn, the nests and other cherished institutions of the feathered tribe. A meeting has been held, which we are sorry old Hsor is not alive to report, and several resolutions have been agreed to against the new hatching system, which is calculated to stifle some of the best feelings of henhood and chickenhood, by severing the parental ties, and placing an old tea-kettle ix loco parentis for the goslings, ducklings, pullets, and others, who inhabit the world of poultry. We find we were mistaken in thinking that steam is the agent that has thrown the bird creation into the vapours, and though warm water is, in fact, employed by Mr. Canrexo, the poultry complain bitterly of being called into existence by such wishy-washy means. : ’ It is quite evident, by the perturbation among the birds, that there is something hatching in opposition to Mr. CanTeto’s hydro-incubation which has caused a perfect hydrophobia among even the geese and ducks, many of whom refuse to enter the water, for fear it should be upon the boil. MAKING THE MOST OF IT. Our daily contemporaries have been making the most of the morsels of intelligence coming from Paris, and have dealt it out in doses of truly homeopathic dimensions to their respective subscribers. Each day we have had Second Editions, in which a quarter of a column has been made up of tremendous type, forming a variety of catch-lines similar to the following :— SECOND EDITION. FURTHER PARTICULARS. FRESH INTELLIGENCE! DISTURBANCES IN PARIS!! OUTBREAK IN THE CAPITAL OF FRANCE. COLLISION WITH THE TROOPS!!! RENCONTRE WITH THE SOLDIERS. CONTEST WITH THE MILITARY!!!! All this works exceedingly well, as far as the sale of our contemporaries’ papers may go; but it has been rather tantalising to the numerous urchasers, who thought they were going to get something extraordinary or their money, instead of an Extraordinary Express with the same thing over and over again in it. Who Harbours Another Man’s Dog? Two little boys—we cull the story from the Stamford Mercury— having enticed a valuable dog, not their own, into Easton Wood, set it upon a rabbit. The boys were fined for poachers; and the dog was sent to Burghley, to Lorp Exeter, that he might have a look at the quadruped offender. The dog has been applied for, but has not been returned to the owner. And, for our part, we trust it never will. As boys of twelve and fourteen are fined under the Game-Laws, we do not see wherefore a valuable dog, offending against the statute, should not be duly castigated. “Love me, love my dog,” says the proverb. “Fine boys, and confine their pointer,” implies a game-preserving nobleman. HINTS FOR MR. ANSTEY’S NEXT MONSTER MOTION. WE do hope that on the next occasion upon which Mr. ANsTEY may favour the world with a Monster Motion, he will dress it up ina manner somewhat more attractive than that with which he has invested his recent exhibition. The following style, for instance, would have been far more telling than the common-place twaddle he thought | proper to adopt, while the truth would have been adhered to almost as | closely as it was in the honourable Member’s statement. The following is a brief outline of such a speech as he might have eee _ Mr. AnsTEy, in moving for papers, condemned the PaLMERSTON, as a policy that had not oy destroye blighted the future, and with retrospective i of the past. Italy he i b too many Italian irons in the fire, he had burnt his fingers at last. As to Turkey, he had so truckled to the northern autocrat, that Turkey had not a drumstick it could call its own. He (Mr. Anstey) would now turn to Egypt, and he would then ask the House to look at the Egyptian in Piccadilly, and then say whether Lorp Paterson ought to show his face again. re ment of Circassia has completely stopped the growth of that promising trade in Circassian Cream, which these charges were all responded to, he (Mr. Anstey) should have another wheelbarrow full of documents to read to the House; but in the meantime he would give Lorp PaLMersTon an opportunity of answering the accusations now made, Statistics of Torture. A PartiaMentary return, quoted by the Times, states that “the total number of persons subjected to the punishment of flogging in the Royal Navy, in the year 1847, pct to 860, and the number of lashes inflicted upon them to 26,228.” The compilers of the return, we suppose, were not arithmeticians enough to express in figures the cor- responding amount of human agony. That, however, may be left safely to the imagination. SHAKSPEARE IN THE CITY. A CONSIDERABLE majority of the Common Council negatived a motion made by Mr. Lorrt to pay fifty guineas in aid of the purchase-money of SHAKSPEARE’S House. Many of the Council defended their vote by reason that thev had never heard of SHAKSPEARE before, and that they voted money for strangers in one instance, “there would soon be no end of SHaKsPgAREs in the City.” Printed by William Bradbury, of No. 6. York Place, Stoke Newington, and Frederick Mullett Evans, f No 7, Church w, Stoke Newington, both in the County of Middlesex, Printers, at th ir Office, in Lombard Street, in the Precinct of Whitefriars, in the City of London, and Pub- lished by them, at No. 85, Fleet Street, in the Parish of St. Bride, in the City of London.— Sarcuspar, Janvuagy 15th, 1848. ve luxuriance to our —_. When | 0 policy of Lorp | the present, | amy tarnished the glories | had unnecessarily meddled with; and by having | His treat- |

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL 95 TRAVELS IN LONDON. A CLUB IN AN UPROAR. HE appearance of a London Club at a time of great excite- ment is well worthy the re- mark of a traveller in this city. The Megatherium has been in a monstrous state of frenzy during the past days. What a queer book it would be which should chronicle all the stories which have been told, or all the opinions which have been uttered there. As a Revolution brings out into light of day, and into the streets of the convulsed capital, swarms of people who are invisible but in suck times of agitation, and retreat into their obscurity as soon as the earthquake is over, so you may remark in Clubs, that the stirring of any great news brings forth the most wonderful and hitherto un- heard of members, of whose faces not the Aabitués, not even the hall-porters, have any knowledge. The excite- ment over, they vanish, and are seen no more until the next turmoil calls them forth. During the past week, our beloved Megatherium has been as crowded as they say Her Masesty’s Palace of Pimlico at present is, where dis- tressed foreigners, fugitives, and other CoBuRGs are crowded two or three in a room; and where it has been reported during the whole of the past week that Lovis-Pmirre himself, in disguise, was quartered in the famous garden pavilion, and plates of dinner sent out to him from Her Magsesty’s table. I had. the story from Bowyer of the Megatherium, who had seen and recognised the ex-king as he was looking into the palace garden from a house in Grosvenor place opposite. We have had other wonderful stories too, whereof it is our present purpose to say a word or two. . The Club, in fact, has been in a state of perfect uproar, to the disgust of the coffee-room habitués, of the quiet library arm-chair occupiers, and of the newspaper-room students, who could not get their accus- tomed broad-sheets. Old Docror Pokey (who is in the habit of secreting newspapers about his person, and going off to peruse them in recondite corners of the building) has been wandering about, in vain endeavouring to seize hold of a few. They say that a Morning Chronicle was actually pulled from under his arm during the last week’s excite- ment. The rush for second editions and evening papers is terrific. Members pounce on the news-boys and rob them. Decorum is overcome. All the decencies of society are forgotten during this excitement. Men speak to each other without being introduced. I saw a man in ill- made trowsers and with strong red whiskers and a strong northern accent, go up to Colonel the Honovrasie Otro Ditiwater of the Guards, and make some dreadful remark about Louis Freuir, which | caused the Colonel to turn pale with anger. I saw a Bishop, an Under ' Secretary of State, and GENERAL DE Boots, listening with the utmost | gravity and eagerness to little Bos Noppy, who pretended to have | brought some news from the City, where they say he is a Clerk ina Fire Office. ; | I sawall sorts of portents and wonders, On the great Saturday night | (the 26th ult.), when the news was rifest, and messenger after messenger /ecame rushing in with wild rumours, men were seen up at midnight who | were always known to go to bed at ten. A man dined in the Club who | is married, and who has never been allowed to eat there for eighteen | years. On Sunday, old Mr. Pucu himself, who moved that the house ‘ should be shut, no papers taken in, and the waiters marched to church under the inspection of the Steward, actually came down and was seen | pono | the Observer, so eager was the curiosity which the great events | excited. In the smoking-room of the establishment, where you ordinarily meet a very small and silent party, there was hardly any seeing for the smoke, any sitting for the crowd, or any hearing in consequence of the prodigious bawling and disputing. The men uttered the most furious contradictory statements there. Young Birrin was praying that the rascally mob might be cut down to a man; while GuLLET was bellowing out that the safety of France required the re-establishment of the guil- —_—. lotine, and that four heads must be had, or that the Revolution was not complete. In the card-room, on the great night in question, there was only one whist-table, and at that even they were obliged to have a dummy. Captain ‘TRuMPINGTON could not be brought to play that night; and Pamm himself trumped his partner’s lead, and the best heart; such was the agitation which the great European events excited. When Dicky Curr came in, from His Excettency Lorp Piterimstonr’s evering party, a rush was made upon him for news, as if he had come from attle. Even the waiters appeared to be interested, and seemed to try to overhear the conversation. Every man had his story, and his private information ; and several of these tales I took down. “ Saturday, five o'clock. JAWKIns has just come from the City. The French Rotuscuixp has arrived. He escaped in a water-butt as far as Amiens, whence he went on in a coffin. A fourgon containing two hundred and twenty-two thousand two hundred sovereigns, and nine- and-fourpence in silver, was upset in the Rue Saint Denis. The coin was picked up, and the whole sum, with the exception of the fourpenny piece, was paid over to the Commissioners at the Hotel de Ville. “Some say it was a quarter-franc. It was found sticking, afterwards to the sabot of an Auvergnat, and brought in safety to the Provisional Government. “‘BLANKLEY comes in. He made his fortune last year by the rail- roads, has realised, and is in afrantic state of terror. ‘The miscreants!’ he says. ‘The whole population is in arms. They are pouring down to the English coast ; the sazs-culottes will be upon us to-morrow, and we shall have them upon—upon my estate in Sussex, by Jove! CoppEen was in a league with the Revolutionary government, when he said there would be no war—laying a trap to lull us into security, and so give free ingress to the infernal revolutionary villains. There are not a thousand men in the country to resist them, and we shall all be butchered before a week is out— butchered, and our property confiscated. ConpENn ought to be impeached and hanged. Lorp Jonn Russet ought to be impeached and hanged. Hopes Guizor will be guillotined for not having used cannon, and slaughtered the ruffians before the Revolution came to ahead.’ N.B. BLANKLEY was a liberal before he made his money, and had a picture of Tom Parvez in his study. ““TowzeER arrives. A messenger has just come to the Foreign Office wounded in three places, and in the disguise of a fishwoman. Paris is in flames in twenty-four quarters—the mob and pikemen raging through it. LaMARTINE has been beheaded. The forts have declared for the King and are bombarding the town. All the English have been massacred. “Captain Sutnpy says, ‘ Nonsense! no such thing.’ A messenger has come to the French Embassy. The King and Family are at Versailles. The two Chambers have followed them thither, and MarsuaL Buceavp has rallied a hundred and twenty thousand men. The Parisians have three days’ warning: and if at the end of that time they do not yield, seven hundred guns will open on the dogs, and the whole caaaille will be hurled to perdition. “Pipxinson arrives. The English in Paris are congregated in the Protestant Churches; a guard is placed over them. It is with the reatest difficulty that the rabble are prevented from massacring them. ADY LUNCHINGTON only escaped by writing ‘ Veuve d’ O’Connell’ on her door. It is perfectly certain that Guizor is killed. Lamartine and the rest of the Provisional Government have but a few days to live : the Communists will destroy them infallibly ; and universal blood, terror, and anarchy will prevail over France, over Europe, over the world. * Bouncer—on the best authority. Thirty thousand French entered Brussels under Lamoricrzre. No harm has been done to Leoroxp. The united French and Belgian army march on the Khine on Monday. Rhenish Prussia is declared to form a part of the Republic. A division under GENERAL BepEAU will enter Savoy, and pe into Lombardy. The Pope abdicates his temporal authority. The Russians will cross the Prussian frontier with four hundred thousand men. “Bowyer has just come from Mivart’s, and says that rooms are taken there for the Pope, who has fled from his dominions, for the Countess OF LanpsFELD, for the Kine or Bavania, who is sure to follow immediately, and for all the French Princes, and their suite and families.” It was in this way that Rumour was chattering last week, while the great events were pending. But oh, my friends! wild and strange as these stories were, were they so wonderful as the truth ?—as an army of a hundred thousand men subdued by a rising of bare-handed mechanics; as a great monarch, a minister notorious for wisdom, and a great monarchy blown into annihilation by a blast of national breath ; as a magnificent dynasty slinking out of existence in a cab; as a gallant rince, with an army at his back, never so much as drawing a sword, But at a summons from a citizen of the National Guard, turning tail and sneaking away; as a poet braving the pikes which had scared away a family of kings and princes, and standing forward, wise, brave, sensible and merciful, undismayed on the tottering pinnacle of popular power? Was there ever a day since the beginning of history, where VOL, XIV, L

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96 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. | say as little as you can. | notes. Dispute nothing. If facts are rather too strong for you, only small men were so great, and great: ones so little? What satirist could ever have dared to invent such a story as that of the brave and famous race of Orleans flying, with nobody at their backs; of wives and hus- bands separating, and the deuce take the hindmost; of ULyssss shaving his whiskers off, and flinging away even his wig? It is the shamefullest chapter in history—a consummation too base for_ridicule. One can’t laugh at anything so miserably mean. All the Courts in Europe ought to go into mourning, or wear sackcloth. The catas- trophe is too degrading. It sullies the cause of all kings, as the misconduct of a regiment does an army. It tarnishes all crowns. And if it points no other moral, and indicates no future consequences, why, Progress is a mere humbug: Railroads lead to nothing, and Signs point nowhere: and there is no To-morrow for the world. Spec. THE ART OF RECEIVING A DEPUTATION. Beg of it to be seated. Throw yourself into your arm-chair, cross your arms and legs, and listen most attentively. Take especial care that no expression escapes your countenance. Admit nothing; but just nod occasionally. Beware of a direct answer. The less you know of a subject the better; if you are wise youare lost. Let every one talk as much as he pleases ; let the whole deputation talk together if it likes. It flatters them and protects you from accidents. In fact, Show all your zeal in listening and taking Rise as it enters. express your surprise. A well-timed “Indeed!” is frequently the saving of an hour. All arguments are dangerous; they only waste time ; you do not want to be convinced, and as for convincing the Depu- tation, it is hopeless—it comes already convinced. If pressed for an opinion, express your sympathy with the important cause, and make a note in your memorandum-book to give it your earliest consideration. If the Deputation does not retire, call in the Revenue to your aid enlarge on its deficiency, run largely into imports and exports, and wind up with a sharp flourish about the British Constitution and the interests of the community. At this point your servant should announce some important visitor. Rise, and bow your Deputation to the door, after thanking it profusely for its trouble and intelligent advice. Shake one or two gentlemen by the hand, and the next morning’s account of the Deputation will inform you that “every one was highly delighted with the extreme courtesy and affability of the Honourable Lord.” Don’t look in the glass, however, for fear of laughing. The Political Barometer. Tue Whigs by their Budget were only inclin’d To hit on a project for raising the wind; But they little expected by rapid degrees The wind would be raised to a regular breeze. And had they persisted, we venture to say, A storm was approaching to sweep them away. A Contrast. PARIS. | LONDON. Amidst the fire and shot of a In peaceful, gluttonous, turtle- Paris Revolution, the Provisional! cramming London, a Common- | Government do not forget the | councilman proposes that the sum | interests of Art. See the State! of £50 (how many hundreds have | document, in which it is ordered— | been given to soldiers in gold | “ All that appertains to the direction of boxes?) should be subscribed to- | the Fine Arts and Museums, and was for-| wards the purchase of the house merly unier the control of the Civil List, PS . “6 will constitute a division of the ministry of of SHAKESPEARE. And the pro- the interior. ‘Ihe jury charged with the position,” say the newspapers, “is reception of pictures a’ the annual exhibi- negatived by a large majority.” — tions, will be named by election.” ' This is France! | This is England ! AWFUL POSITION OF MR. DUNUP AT BOULOGNE. Our departed friend, Mr. Dunvp, who, as all the world, and especially his creditors, well know, departed by the boat for Boulogne about two months back, has been placed in a most awful position by the French Revolution. Bayonets were urging him from behind ; but if he looked towards England, writs were threatening him in front ; and, turn which way he would, his case seemed a hopeless one. Nothing, since the celebrated case of the Soldier, who was proprietor of a certain popular tear, which he “ wiped away,” can be compared to the touching dilemma—for touching it would have been, if he had allowed the bailiffs to fraternise with him—of Mr. Dunur. We have placed the whole matter in the hands of our Poet, who has drawn up the following | version of the affecting incident :— Upon the pier he turn’d To take a mental look At his credit and his creditors, Whom basely he forsook. He conjured up the sound, So familiar to his ear, Of “ Please to settle this account ;” And answer’d with a sneer. He reach’d his lodging-door— A trembling took his knees; He found in Paris there had been A most tremendous breeze. “A bas les Anglais !”’ roar’d Directly in his ear, Told him there was not time to panse=— He sought again the pier. He look’d on board the boat— Oh! do not deem him weak ; For desperate was Dunur’s game, The game of hide-and-seek. Go watch him at Boulogne, You’! find him on the pier ; He’d rather risk the bayonets there, Than brave the bailiffs here! - A Truth for Louis-Philippe. “T noxp France in my hand; I know how to manage them,” said Lovis-Pritirre, according to the Morning Post, on the day previous to his overthrow. He certainly did hold France in his hand—for he has let her slip through his fingers. A JOKE AS GOOD AS NEW. Tue “Chamber of Peers” at Paris is for ever abolished. It would be as well if Westminster Bridge were also, for really it is almost as pier-less. HEROIC SACRIFICE. Tre Marquis Davy DE 1, PalLveterte, better known as ALEXANDRE Dumas, has given up his title and the crown of his ancestors.

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL. 97

the anrals of the political world. HOUSE OF CALL FOR EX-EMPERORS, EX-KINGS, AND EX-ROYALTY IN GENERAL. J. E. Mrvarr presents his humble respects to the Crowned Heads of = the Continent, and to the various branches of Foreign Royalty in < eneral, and begs to be allowed to inform his Royal Patrons that his Totel, Brook Street, Grosvenor Square, continues to be the favoured House of Call for Dethroned Potentates in general. Animated by the sincerest feelings of gratitude for all favours past, J. E. Mrvart begs to assure his Imperial and nothing shall be wanting on his part to continue to secure that patro- nage which has already made his humble Hotel an historical edifice in With these feelings, J. E. Mivarr has, in the handsomest and most commodious manner, decorated, furnished Establishment, in order that his Imperial and Royal Guests may, as completely as circumstances will permit, continue, though exiled, to feel themselves whilst in his house upon their old thrones at home. J. E. Mivart ventures to believe that passing events will justify a somewhat detailed description of the peculiar domestic conveniences offered at his Hotel to Royalty upon its travels. : especially, as this cardis intended for European circulation.—(N.B. A liberal allowance made to all Queen’s messengers.) oyal Patrons that

and generally fitted up his

And this, the more

The Emperor or Austr1a—should events not necessary to be more particularly alluded to induce him to come to London—will find Mrvart’s Hotel a most delightful place of sojourn. A i cent suite of rooms is furnished pre- cisely after the Imperial apartments of Vienna; and Views of the Prater, the Danube, &c., &c., painted in the most brilliant style of Art by CLark- son SranFienp, R.A. And further to carry out the illusion, Mr. Can- TELO has received orders to hatch a supply of Double-Headed Eagles. And, that no gratification may be wanting to the Imperial Heart, a proof copy of the Morning Post (arrangements having been made with the proprietors) will be for- : ‘ ‘ ed every morning to the Hotel, that his Imperial Majesty may continue his paternal cen- sorship of the Press, by occasionally cutting it to ribands.

To his es Kine or Napties and already Ex-Kine or Sicity, J. E. Mivart very confidently recommends his superior macaroni. J. E. M. has moreover given a commis- sion to Mr. BRADWELL to produce—within a fortnight from the present time—a very handsome model of Vesuvius (to be put inthe back yard), with an eruption ready at a minutes’ notice. J. E.M. confidently hopes that the superior quality of the brimstone will tend to make His Majesty feel himself quite at home. Her Majesty QurrN IsaBeLia of Spain may depend — the most perfect and delightful accommodation under Mr. Mivart’s roof; inasmuch as J. E. M. pledges himself, as a man and a Briton, not to receive (at any amount of rent whatever) Don Francisco; and further to obtain for QueEN CuRIsTINA a sleeping-room out. Tickets for Masked Balls to be had at all the Booksellers. J. E. M.’s house is also within a comfortable ride of the Surrey Fox-hounds. His Majesty Lero- POLD, KING OF THE BeExcIANs will, at J. E. Mivart’s, find himself (should it be necessary for him to make the trial) on the very best Brussels. N.B. French spoken by the waiters. J. E. Mrvart feels that he might extend the contents of this card: he thinks, how- ever, that he has said enough to convince an enlightened Royalty

FURNITURE OF THE KING OF BAVARIA’S ROOM, _ His Majesty Louis-Cuantes or Bavanrta, may also feel assured that in the event of his quitting Munich—he will find himself quite at home in Brook Street; which is only a convenient distance from the Opera. J. E. Mivart, however—intending not the least offence—feels it only due to himself, and to the high and spotless character of his Establish- ment, to inform the Kine or Bavaria in proper time that—no followers are permitted, and the bolero danced under no pretence whatever. (delicate and difficult jj as is sometimes the task) that his remises in Brook Street will be ound ay adapted for Majesty out of place. *,* oMNIBUSES (IN CORRESPONDENCE WITH THE HOTEL) CONTINUALLY RUNNING FROM THE DOVER RAILWAY. N.B, Beds at any hour. Porter sits up all night.

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| PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. RULES FOR LORD JOHN RUSSELL. Tne following note has been forwarded to Lorp Joun RussEtt :— “ My Lorp,—We, the undersigned, understanding that your Lordship | is at a loss to adjust the Income-Tax in equitable proportions to the | interest of landed and funded property, and to professional and mer- cantile profits respectively, hereby tender you our assistance in the erformance of this very simple process. We are well aware that we oa not, at: present, the honour of being known to your Lordship ; but we are sure that a slight acquaintance with us will remove all your difficulties. (Signed) Mu.trpiication. Division. PRACTICE. Rute or THReEe. Interest, Srupte and Compounp. Vuicar Fractions. DecIMaAts.” *.* We observe that the foregoing signatures do not include Appt- tion and Susrraction. With Appition his Lordship has evinced a | perfect familiarity, in his alacrity in increasing the national burdens; | and his proposal to deduct five per cent. from our incomes shows that he is more than sufficiently conversant with SusTRAcTION. Pints for the Chancellor of the Wyrchequer. As the Military Estimates may be considered as among the heaviest causes of the defi- ciency of revenue, we are sure the CHANCELLOR OF THE Ex- CHEQUER will feel exceedingly grateful to us for any sugges- tion by which the gap occa- sioned by the cost of the Army may be even partially supplied. If the soldiery, who are just now useless—and we hope will long continue useless—for warlike purposes, were to be devoted to the interests of commerce, by be- coming the placard bearers of the metropolis, the tradesmen of London would not hesitate to support a corps of such real value to the commercial com- munity. The annexed sketches will convey an idea of our intention; and who, we confi- dently ask, would not be de- lighted to see the blood-stained banner superseded by the ink- smeared posting-bill ? Gutta Percha would look very well on a regimental flag; and it would be easy to convert Peninsula into Paletot, on those standards which at present bear the former of these titles. An enormous revenue could be collected from the source of income which we point out; and as the Ministers confess the difficulty they have in finding a substitute for the too simple plan of doubling an most obnoxious tax, we hope they will, not be too proud to existin om from those who have no objection to teach them. take a HISTORY OF THE INCOME-TAX. | Tuts little History, which was to have been finished in three years, | | promises to be carried over aS many years as one of ALEXANDRE | Dvumas’s novels. When every one thinks it is wound up, and must finish, a continuation is announced, and we are obliged to go on for | |another three years. It does not stop then. Another continuation is | soon published, and the interest of it is found to be so absorbing, that | we are obliged to continue it whether we like it or no. Our grand- | children will still be taking in a work, the prospectus of which stated was to have been finished in three annual volumes. Let us run through the several chapters which have already been published of this inte- resting little periodical. CHAPTER THE FIRST. | 1842.—The Income-Tax first announced, in a long preface by Sm Rosert Peet. It is issued, and millions subscribe to it, in the faith that it is to be completed in three years. This chapter was very pom. and was eagerly devoured by ali those who could afford it. ven those whose means could not command the luxury looked on, and were happy in the content of others. CHAPTER THE SECOND. This was published in 1845, under the superintendence of Lorp Joun RussEtt, who had already proved his ability in similar produc- tions. This chapter by no means enjoyed the great popularity of the first. This, however, was known to be the usual fate of any continu- ation of a popular series, and caused, therefore, no great astonishment. The cifculation still kept wp the same, for those who had taken in the first series did not like to discontinue the second. Numbers, accord- ingly, were sold, and it must be acknowledged that the second chapter did not fall off from the first. It was full of the same strong effects, and took immensely. CHAPTER THE THIRD. 1847-8.—This chapter is still in course of publication; and it would not be fair on our parts to anticipate its contents. The Income-Tax is the last thing in the chapter of events that one would wish to anti- | cipate. We can safely say this much, that the enthusiasm for the work | has quite died away, and that strong measures have been adopted by |- |the publishers to increase the falling interest. These have not | succeeded; and measures are at present being debated, to establish the Income-Tax on a permanent footing, to be issued regularly like the Punch volumes, every year. Where this History will end, no one can tell. As future chapters are published, we will give a small résumé of them. Wagers are now ending which of the two will finish first—the new series of the eet. or that of Mr. G. P. R. James’s works? Endless as the collection appears, we should almost be inclined to bet in favour of Mr. JAMEs’s series. CitizENsHip MADE Easy.—The citizens of Paris take up their freedom with—paving-stones.

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 99 OUR EXTRAORDINARY EXPRESSES. Our daily contemporaries have been in such a state of vigorous activity with their Expresses —p the last week or two, and have published such rapid successions of editions, that we never could find out whether we were reading the paper of to-day, yesterday, or to-morrow. We caught ourselves frequently reading the same thing over And over again, having omitted, in our hurry, to take notice of the announcement at the top, that “ All of this important intelligence was given in our yesterday’s edition,” or that “The whole of these interesting particulars will be found at length in our paper of to-morrow.” f vat We may compliment most of our contemporaries on their activity. though we have occasionally been doomed to find more ery than woo in the relays of “‘ latest fatalligonen.” whose announcement. has beguiled our pockets of sundry sixpences. In some instances we have been informed by Extraordinary Express that “ our correspondent has nothing new to communicate ;” but a sort of compromise 1s made with us for our disappointment, by the intimation that “if anything fresh should occur it will be communicated in a later edition.” The “later edition” is, of course, eagerly bought, and frequently with the same result, or perhaps with the more tantalising intimation that “Important Intelli- gence is believed to be delayed by bad weather; but if the wind should abate in time for the next edition, there will be something to communicate.” : ” Some of our contemporaries have published fresh editions to state that “there is nothing fresh” except the breeze, “but a steamer is waiting in case of anything occurring worth transmission, when details will be published in a later edition.” ; We have a great mind to announce that we have the brains of a contributor in a state of eruption, emitting jokes as fast as the fire is sent forth from Mount Vesuvius, and that we have a boy stationed at the door to bring us the reports or explosions of his turbulent in- tellect. We might easily get up a tremendous excitement about a i ge of puns, and intimate that the FIRING HAS COMMENCED, in the usual effective capitals. After favouring the public with a quantity of bon-mots devoting a “later edition” to every new sally as it came forth, we might publish finally the intelligence that THE FIRING HAS CEASED! TRANQUILLITY REIGNS!! AND ALL IS QUIET!!! We had some idea of imi‘ating one of our evening contemporaries, and sending a man on horseback at full gallop down Holywell Street every five minutes, with a boy stationed at each end of the thorongh- fare to exclaim, “ There goes the Punch Express!” but as our contem- porary has to pay more for inquests and accidents, caused by riding over the populace, than he can hope to realise by the extra sale of his journal, we relinquished the ostentatious enterprise. We had the notion at one time of copying a “dodge” of one of our pictorial con- temporaries, who keeps a gang of foreign-looking persons at the door all day long, in the act of furnishing “authentic sketches, taken on the spot,” which are promised in placards filling the windows; but as we thought our window might be seen through, we avoided even this harmiess subterfuge. We pretend, therefore, neither to steam-packets, extraordinary couriers, pilot-boats, or anything else, nor do we even keep a man in readiness to break his neck with the earliest. news or no-news that may arrive; but we think of starting a “life-buoy” at the foot of Blackfriar’s Bridge, by way of experiment. We do not expect that it will do much, but it will afford us at all events the right to talk about our communi- cations from the coast, which our contemporaries are all so mad about. Mrs. Glass's History of France. Tue Rerorm Banquet.—It consisted of but one dish, but that was most deliciously cooked—the Goose of Louis-PHILIPPE. FINANCIAL DEFINITION, Tue “glorious simplicity of the Three per Cents.” is defined by Lorp Joun Russeut to be the simple subtraction of three per cent. from all incomes, irrespectively of their origin. ' Romance ovr History.—Who would have thought that the “Coming man” would have been Lovis-PHILIPPE ? THE MYSTERY UNRAVELLED. An earnest appeal was made the other day, through the second column of the 7Zzmes, to the writer of a Valentine containing the line **T long’d an Afric’s slave to be,” to come forward and “unravel the mystery.” As we are wholesale unravellers of mysteries in general, we have set to work upon the matter, and have procured a copy of the original Valentine, which we subjoin, and which, it will be seen, presents a mystery that rather requires unravelling. Such was the hieroglyphic that formed the Valentine in question, and the meaning of which is certainly quite latent enough to justify a demand that the sender of it should come forward and “ unravel the mystery.” The following yn which accompanied the tableau, does not much tend to the elucidation which was called for in the advertisement :— When the gay bulbul, light of wing, Bore in its mouth the wedding-ring— When o’er the church it flew with glee, Nor stopp’d to perch on neighbouring tree— When heart was closely joined to heart By Curip’s skewer-resembling dart— When with the breath he gently drew, The fire of love the urchin blew— Tn lovers’ knots when ringdoves bound Were softly cooing on the ground— When sights like these I chanced to see, “T long’d an Afric’s slave to be.” Thus far the Valentine; but now for the unravelling of the mys- tery. The fact then is, that the contemplation of so much happiness in which he could not participate, was more than the writer oul bear, and he according. ey **long’d an Afric’s slave to be,’’ in order that he might get away from it. “LE COMMENCEMENT DE LA FIN.” Aut that is now left of the French “ Nobilité” is the initial syllable “No.” A bad beginning, but a worse end.

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[A recollection of G. Cruikshank’s “ Illustrations of Time.”] — SSS oS Mr. Bull. “Hotto! You Sra! Wuere ARE YOU GOING WITH THAT INCREASED IncomE-Tax?” Ne AN\ —, gl mh Ul min: John Russell, “Bock acin.” ap fAaxims HPoralised. —A Cat may look at a King. Tus is a very vida maxim; but, if kings do not take care, it will become obsolete, for though it may be always true that a cat may look at a king, the time may come when a cat must look very sharp indeed to find one. We hope, nevertheless, that a cat may long enjoy the privilege of looking at a Queen, and that the feline animal may, throughout the whole of its nine lives, have our own VicTorRIA to look upon. 4 IT,—Aching teeth are ill tenants. They are indeed, and an ejectment is the best treatment such tenants should experience. Stopping ought not to be allowed, for the tenants will only become worse, ‘and must eventually be got rid of. IIT.—A contented mind is a continual feast. It may be so; but it is somewhat of a Barmecide’s feast unless allied with more substantial articles. Nevertheless, on the whole we should be disposed to recommend mental tranquillity aw naturel, in preference to many dishes of more substantial materials. IV. —A fool and his money are soon parted. It would seem, however, that they “part to meet again;” for the instances of union between folly and yak h are very numerous. V.—A friend in need is a friend indeed. Is he indeed ? Perhaps he may be; but the difficulty of following the necessary direction to “first catch your friend,” renders the testing of this maxim almost impossible. VI.—A Miss is as good as a mile. We know many a Miss whose tongue is better than a mile, for there is really no end to it. VII.—An hour in the morning is worth two in the afternoon. It is probable that the author of this maxim was not a frequenter of the Coal Hole, the Cider Cellars, or other places of the same — where an hour in the morning would not have impressed him wit great idea of its superior value. VIIT.—An oak is not felled with one blow. It is not ; nor will it always move when civilly requested, for it often requires a "good deal of axing. (If antiyuity is a merit, ‘this remark we be as valuable—for it is certainly nearly as old—as the maxim itself.) The Bo-Peep of the Bourbons. LovIs-PHILIPPE Has lost his a And never again will find ’em : The people of France Have made an advance, And left their King behind” COUNTERFEIT COIN, It is evident that much counterfeit money must of late have been put in circulation, for during many days the people at Dover, Southampton, and other sea-side places, have been keeping a sharp look-out for nothing but a bad sovereign. WHAT HAS HAPPENED TO THE MORNING CHRONICLE ? Wuy has the poor dear old Chronicle written so poetically since its change ?—Because it is worsified.—Ed. M. Herald. THE WORST CUT OF ALL. Lovts-Puiirre, the Ex-King turned out of France and scorned by urope, incurs the pity of Mr. Disragui. They say this cut up the Jix-King more than any other of his mishaps.

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL 103 KING O’PHILLIPS FOR IRELAND! Cu—s—tu A—st—y To Jonn O’Connett, M.P. * Srr—AtruoucHa I have not yet made it a part of my impeachment, of Lorp Paumerston, I[ intend to do so. Yes: The accusation—I have to prefer—will be continued in my next. In the meantime, I take the widest, the strongest, and the deepest means (need [ ailude to the pages of Punch 7) to inform all Ireland of the chains that at this moment are being forged for her; forged by the traitorous Foreign Secretary, to whom treason is a labour of affection. “For many days, the whereabout of the Ex-Kine or tue Frencn has been kept a secret. He has been at Dreux—at Eu—at Tréport—at Herne Bay. Such have been the conflicting rumours of a venal press. All, of course, to put the world upon a wrong scent until the iniquity, for some days hatching, shall receive portentous birth. ; “ Now, Sir, prepare to be astonished ; for I am about to inform you and the bamboozled world at large, of the real hiding-place of the late Kine oF THE Frencu. Know, then, that his Ex-Majesty is at this moment—and has been for some days past—at No. 3, Carlton-House Terrace. Yes; in legal phrase, he is there “harboured and comforted ” by Viscount Patmerston, the Foreign Secretary ! “T am the last man to suggest any intrusion upon the privacy of fallen greatness; but—if you doubt the veracity of my information— I have only to direct you to the above address. Knock at the door, rush by the porter, run up-stairs; and on the third-pair back (turning to the right, you will see a cut-glass handle to the door) you will find the royal fugitive. There be is, seated in an arm-chair covered with Russia leather, which (stuffed with Russian bank-paper) was a grateful present of Nicuoxas, for work done, to the Foreign Secretary. There is the Ex-King, in that Russian chair, with his feet upon a Turkey carpet, the bribe of the Sultan; there he is, with a Persian cat (the souvenir of the Shah) bridling at his royal knee; with his royal but exiled elbow leaning on a Spanish mahogany table, the gift of CuRIsTINA for winking at the Spanish marriage. There is the King, Sir (at the hour I write) with a cup of tea before him—the tea the gift of the Emperor or Curna, in recompense for a certain foreign treaty that | sacrificed the interests of the English merchant; the tea sweetened by the sugar of Brazil, originally sent in a loaf, to purchase the destruction of the West Indies—milked from a Brahmin cow (the gift of the East India Company)—and stirred by a spoon, a small item of the exten- sive service of plate manufactured at the mine’s mouth in Peru, to buy the Foreign Secretary to the interests of the republic. I might, Sir, give many other particulars touching the furniture of that back-room— nay, of every moveable of No. 3—but I am the last man to be personal. Well, Sir, you will ask wherefore should Lorp PaLMerston—the Foreign Secretary of England—give an asylum to the castaway Louts- Puiirre. Listen. “The Kine oF THE Frencu cannot leave off a crown. After wearing one for nearly eighteen years, it is—he declares—as needful to his health as flannel. “The Kine or THE FRENCH is desirous to purchase another kingdom —to lay down so much ready money for it—and, Sir, (now prepare to shriek)—LorD PALMERSTON PROPOSES TO SELL HIM IRELAND ! “Yes! You clench your patriotic hand—you strike it on your heart ({ knew you would)—you gaze towards the ceiling and—no, you are too much of a gentleman—you don’t swear. * For these past three days, whilst even the Chronicle—a public organ that Lorp Patmerston has ceased to grind—has preached of Louts- Puitipre’s wanderings in France, his Majesty has—I repeat it—been lodged at No. 3, Carlton House Terrace, bargaining for the purchase of the ‘first flower of the earth and first gem of the sea;’ and they are now—after much haggling on the king’s part—sold to him as though the flower was of no more worth than a daisy, and the gem as common as Margate shingle. **Treland was Pret’s difficulty’—said Patmerston to a friend I could name—‘ but I have turned it into ready cash. We are the first Ministry who ever made a penny by it.’ “T have not yet made my mind up to publish the precise sum paid by Lovts-Patipre for the throne of Ireland; but I shall be quite prepared —when the time comes—to summon to the bar of the eaten the identical clerk from Coutts’s who cashed his Majesty’s cheque. “T shall also be quite ready to call Mr. to the bar, to prove that he received instructions to make out the conveyance deeds. ‘This much I will, however, venture to state without, further hesitation. “Of course, Ministers said nothing of the transaction. It was their selfish policy ta keep it secret until they secured the Income-Tax. “Tt is not yet settled when his Majesty will take possession of Ireland, but I think I may venture to predict that it will be on the very earliest day of April. “The king—in order that certain passages of his Paris life may be forgotten—proposes to cast aside his present name as he would change dirty linen, and to mount the throne (which in this case he has ordered of cast-iron, not to be consumed by fire) under the title of O’Pariures THE First! greatest vigour, and in the highest spirits. Mr. Suen, the Master of the Mint, has already been to advise with him respecting his new coinage: and already Mr. Jonn Leecu and Mr. eee DoyLE have been solicited to supply designs for the Five Pat Piece and the O’Puttiirs-p’or. (A hand closing an umbrella, for the obverse, has been suggested, as significant of the brevity of the royal reign.) “Messrs. Storr & Mortimer have taken the king’s hat to measure for the new crown (of - silver) ; a light, tasteful thing composed of sham- rocks, and enriched with polished fragments of the real Blarney Stone. “Mr. Moszs, from the Minories, has been honoured with an order to make the royal robes of the very best cotton velvet, to be trimmed with real fox. Mr. Moses was, I am informed, kept in ignorance of the rank of his customer; Lorp Patmerston, in his wily way, assuring the single-hearted tailor that ‘the old gentleman was a bit o a character, and only wanted the robes for the purpose of a masquerade.” “ And now, Sir, having communicated to you a part of the designs of Lorp PatMERsToy, it is for you, as the Patriot of Erin, to determine for the seven millions who look all the way up to you; it is for you to say whether you will take the Son of Gaul in exchange for the hated Saxon. I will not tell you the name I have already heard as determined 9 a O’Pa.rs as his Prime Minister for life; but it begins with O’C. : “Again, it cannot be denied that Kine O’Puriutrs comes with a ready-made royal family. There is Nemours, and D’Aumate, and MonrrensteR, each ready to head an Irish invading army; whilst ADMIRAL JoINVILLE, in command of the Armada of the Liffy, may pour his thunder on either side of the Thames. This, it must be confessed will be revenge on the blood-thirsty Saxon—revenge sweet and unctuous as butter-milk ! ; “That Ireland will benefit by the change—that the country which has been blighted by the rule of the Saxon, will run with oil and honey under the beneficent auspices of the Gaul—is not to be doubted. Never- | theless, be assured that the corrupt and avaricious statesman who has | transacted the bargain—selling a whole nation for a bank-cheque~-will, |in the proper place, namely, the House of Commons, at the bar of the | country, be duly impeached by “Your obedient servant, | J. O'Connell, Esq., M.P.” “Cuo—s—itmM A—sT—yY.” “PS. It is a small matter, but I have just learned that Lovts- | Putters binds himself and his heirs for ever, to supply for the same time, mountain-dew and potatoes to the cellar and the kitchen of a \ certain mansion in Carlton House Terrace.” RESIGNATION OF LOUIS-PHILIPPE. — “ Au! c’rst ce Bon TRicoton! Tu NE VAUX PLUS RIEN, MON aM, CoMME DRAPEAU—N importer! Tu NE MF QUITTERAS JAMAIS—COMME MOUCHOIR,” “Tcan assure you that the King re-enters upon Majesty with the

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104 PUNCH. OR THE LONDON CHARIVART. THE DELECTABLE BALLAD OF THE FOUR KINGS OF ITALY; SHOWING HOW THEY EACH TOOK HIS ROUGH DRAUGHT OF A CONSTITUTION, AND HOW IT SORE MISLIKED SOME OF THEM, \ , : 7 ~ + Y } > w yy \\ = : Z \ I y i! it a) | —= i o™ = ml SZ HI TH) I th | { al im I} p H i eS = | > fa fish . — The Pope. “I FEEL ALL THE BETTER FOR MY DOSE, AND I THINK YOUR | | MAJESTIES CANNOT DO BETTER THAN FOLLOW MY EXAMPLE.” * | King of Sardinia. “ As Napies 1s TAKING IT, I MAY AS WELL.” King of Denmark. “1 suppose THERE IS NO HELP FOR IT,SO HERE GOES !” | King of Prussia. “1 MIXED MINE MYSELF, AND SO I KNOW IT’S ALL RIGHT.” King of Naples. “ Take AWAY THAT NASTY COMPOUND.” Ir was four kings into the South, And oh, they were brave to sze; Three of them had a crown a-piece, But the fourth, oh he had three. The first he was Kine or Sanvinia; The next, Doxe or Tuscanie; The third, he was the Pore or Rome; And Naptes, the fourth was he. Sarpinta he nodded ‘twixt wink and wake, And Tuscany shut one eye; But Naptes he slept as fast as a church, With his crown set all awry. Then it’s up and spake Pope Pivs, That was ware and wakeful too, “ Oh rouse ye, rouse ye, my cousins, For there is work to do. “T hear a bird that sings strangely, And the burden of his song Is aye ‘ Up with the rule of Right, And down with the rule of Wrong.’” At Saroinia he lugged, and at Napves tugged, With Tuscany struggled sore, But the more he strove to rouse them, The louder those kings did snore ; Till at last—were Popes not holy men— I had said his Reverence swore. Then it ’s up and spake a little foot-page, That sat below the board, “T hear the clash as of musquet-buts, And the clank as of a sword.” And it’s in came a Lord High Chamberlain, And oh but he was pale : “ Now leave off your bowing and scraping, my lord, And straight unfold your tale. “ Excuse this rude waking, Sir Kings,” he said, ** And say will ye fight or flee ? Here comes young Sarvinia, young Napues, In fact all young Iraty. “*Come peace, come fight, he ll have his right ; To humbug him you ‘re not to hope; He'll take no chaff from Tuscany straw ; He ‘ll have no Navies soap; * Sanpinia may keep his oil For pickling his own Sardines,’— So he says, and, please your Majesties, What he says I think he means.” Then a lusty knock came to the gate, And a tirling at the pin; And with bonnet on brow, and never a bow, Young Itary he walked in. He louted him low before the Pore : * A blessing, Lorp Pope, I crave ;” And then he looked the three kings in the face, And I trow the three kings were grave. For they saw the red glow in his eye, And the long sword at his side, And they heard the tramp of his weary men, As they entered the court so wide. “Tis an ugly dream,” quoth Naptes, When he saw his brethren quake ; And’twas not till he pinched himself black and blue, That he felt he was awake. Young Itary took four cups of gold, Yearven quaint and fair ; “ Now pledge me ye kings, ere hence I go, In a draught though rough that’s rare. “The draught is mixed of precious things, Long kept under bar and ban ; Its strength is Right—that mighty wine Makes glad the heart of man. “ Its bitter is Water from the well Where Truth hides from man’s blindness; Its sweet is Mercy’s honey-dew, With milk of human kindness. “Old Egypt’s queen quaffed melted pearls, Plucked from her diadem ; So have we melted in our draught Justice—that priceless gem. “ And the draught I tend, as the health "twill mend, Is ‘a Constitution * hight ; They use it in merry England most, And it makes them wise and wight.” Quoth the Popz, “ Your host will allow me a toast: * Here ’s luck to the triple crown !*” The cup was full that he took up; ’Twas empty that he set down. Then Tuscany and Sarpinia Drained their draughts with a gulp and a sigh. “T like it much,” quoth Tuscany ; Quoth Sarpinia “ And so do I.” But Napres! it was a sorry sight To see him over his cup ; Thrice he tried with a sob and a scunner, And thrice he gave it up. He tried it in spoonfuls and in sips, And with holding of his nose ; As ye see a boy with the rhubarb toy, Or with the sable dose. Then Tuscany and Sarpinva At their brother sore did scoff ; “1711 count twenty,” quoth young Itaty, “ And then, if it’s not drunk off. He scarce had reached eighteen, eighteen, Eighteen and barely one, When Naptes he made a desperate plunge, And lo, the trick was done! He turned him over on his side, Well nigh slipped off his throne; “I’m gone, my friends ; the business ends; Oh—leave me—do—alone.” “ Now nay—now nay—thou silly king, It will but do thee good.” So said they all, till he was fain To agree he thought it would Since then those kings are all alive, Tho’ Napres at times will snore ; They admit that what Constitutions were They never knew before, And the Pope he leads a happy life, And bids them bless the day That young Itaty did physic them, Whether they would or nay.

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— PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL. 105 & DANGEROUS LITTLE MAN. LORD JOHN TRYING IT ON. \ vast Say \ Lord John. “You see, my pear Mr. Butt, 17’s a MERE FORM; YOU ACCEPT THIS LITTLE Bry .J ? , > AND PAY IT WHEN IT BECOMES DUE.” POLICE INTELLIGENCE. “DROPPING A BILL.” A LITTLE man named Joun RussE.t, was brought up yesterday before the Magistrate at Bow Street, charged by Mr. Butt with an attempt to inveigle him into the'acceptance of a certain bill, which would have rendered. him liable to the payment of 1s. in the pound on the whole annual amount of his income. Mr. Butt, it appears, is already responsible for a similar bill at 7d. in the pound, into accepting which, he said he had been swindled by the fraudulent representations of one PEEL, not in custody. r. BULL stated that he met the defendant (RusseLL) near Westminster Abbey; when he was persuaded by him to accompany him to a public house in the neighbourhood, called “The Commons.” Defendant and some parties supposed to be his confederates called for returns, and for measures, which appeared to be half-and-half. Some general talk ensued, when presently Russet said he had a sum to ma\e up, and asked complainant what he would stand towards it? He (Mr. Butt) said that times were very bad just now; but he would see. They then had some conversation about the National Defences; after which defendant proposed to him (Mr. Butt) to pull out his money. Complainant accordingly produced his purse, which contained some loose sovereigns, a bank note or two, and some silver; and expressed his willingness to accommodate defendant with as much as he could reasonably afford. RussE.t said that would not do, and requested him to accept a little bill which he placed before him, telling him that it was only a matter of form, and that he ha nothing to do but to put his name to it, and pay it when it became due. To the proposal complainant demurred ; when Russet made several artful representations, since proved delusive, to induce him to agree to it; and, finding these ineffectual, intimated that he must procure his signature by main force. He (Mr. Butt) then cried out lustily ; upon which prisoner called to his companions, who surrounded him, and endeavoured to stop his mouth. Had no doubt their intention was to “ burke” him. But at this juncture a cry arose in the street, of “ Police!” mingled with cheers and shouts of “A Revo- lution in France!” One of the prisoner’s associates then said, “It’s no go, JoHNNY;” and another exclaimed, in an under tone, “ ‘There’s a pressure from without.” Upon this, RussELL becoming alarmed, let his Bill drop, which was instantly seized by complainant. Mr. Buu here handed the document to the Magistrate. Complainant added, that having succeeded in getting out of the house, he applied to a policeman, who subsequently took the prisoner into custody. The Magistrate asked the prisoner what he had to say for himself? Russet, with great effrontery, contended that his conduct had been perfectly legal, and said that he was in the service of an illustrious lady, who would be put to great inconvenience by his detention. The Magistrate observed that after what had been proved against him, he had better take care, or his mistress would certainly dismiss him from his situation. He would remand him, and in the mean time direct the Police to keep a sharp look-out after his accomplices. AN UNREASONABLE REQUEST. Mr. B. Cocunzane is reported to have moved for “certain Jiplomatie correspondence that had passed on the subject of the affairs of Greece.” This demand is really one of the most | extravagant that could possibly be made; for who ever heard of “certain diplomatic corres- pondence,” when the very essence of ali such correspondence is its uncertainty. | THE LOST GAME. Ar cards a sly and an old man played With a nation across the sea, And oaths were taken, and bets were made As to whose the game should be. They played so long, and they played so well, It was difficult to scan If the sly old man should the people “ sell,” Or the people the sly old man. The people were “ flush” of “clubs” and Espades,” And played as if in despair ; And “ diamonds” fe had, in all their grades, But never a “ heart ” was there. The last “‘ heat” came of the game I sing, And the tga y played péle-méle ; But the old man lost, tho’ he played the “king,” For he played the “ knave” as well. SO Patriotism at a Discount. Marsuat Bueceaup has had the politeness to offer his services to the Provisional Government of France. The Government does not at present —and we hope it never will—want anything in the Marshal’s line; but thanks him as much as if it did. Privce Lovis-Navozon has had the impudence to make the same offer, proposing to lend his assistance in restoring order; an employment for which the hero of Boulogne must be finely qualified. The French Government has displayed a nice appreciation of his ability to serve his country, in requesting him to oblige it by—keeping out of the way. OLD ENGLAND FOR EVER! Txooven Monsieur DE LAMARTINE can sit through a sitting of sixty hours, Citizen ANSTEY backs himself to make a speech against the Frenchman, and to give him twenty-four hours in. The money is posted at BELLAmy’s, and the umpires will be named when found. Curious Coincidence. Ir is singular that Mr. Horsman, who pro- posed the amendment for the equitable adjustment of the Income-Tax, should have been the Member for Cockermouth. No mouth could have been so competent to speak to Lorp Jonn RvussELt on that subject as the mouth of CockER. CITIZEN LOUIS-PHILIPPE IN PARIS. Sucu is the confidence of the French Repub- | licans in the durability of their form of Govern- ment that, it is said, in a very little time they will allow all the Orteans family to return to Paris to enjoy the comforts of private citizenship. Lovis-PHILIPPE, we understand, proposes to set up in business as a money-changer. THE THREE GLORIOUS DAYS OF PRINCE LOUIS- NAPOLEON. Feb, 26th. I left London for Paris. 27th. I reached Paris. » 23th. 1 left Paris, and reached London, Morat.—I came; I saw; but somehow did not conquer.—Czsar, (a little altered). OMINOUS. Tuts is the second time that titles have been abolished in France. The rule in LinpLEy Murray says, “Two negatives make an_affirm- ative;” but, as the French are not particularly fond of English rule, there is still hope left for the French nobility. «

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106 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. PERPETUAL INVASION. HERE are old persons who allow themselves to be carried away with an invasion from abroad, and yet the same thing is continually being done at home, and not a single hair of their heads—or rather their wigs—stands on end. Good-humour and a little common sense, aided by a good strong fleet, will easily keep the French away ; but the diffi- culty is, how are we to defend ourselves against the invasion of Tax-gatherers, which Til the Whigs invariably bring with them directly 4] they come into power? We advise Englishmen, therefore, to turn their backs for the present upon France. The French have quite enough to do at present, without troubling themselves about us. There is no fear of an invasion from them. Our advice, therefore, is, to make every defence against this army of Tax- gatherers, which the Whigs are collecting to invade us, and .to raise every cry and barricade against the Income-tax, which peace, liberty, fair-play, and the Beadle, will allow. .4 bas ?Income Tax. Vive Punch! FIVE MINUTES’ ADVICE ON RAILWAY ROYALTY. We advise the Railway King to take warning by the fate of Louts-Putuirre. If he does not make timely concessions, he may fall just as rapidly. Railway passengers are naturally good- tempered. They will bear a great deal; but there is a terminus to all subjects’ patience. The Kixe or tue Frencu fell by the weakness of his troops, particularly Za Ligne. Can the King of the Rails depend upon the strength of his line? The National Guard turned at Paris. May not the guards on the Kastern Counties turn in the same way, and force Mr. Hupson to abdicate ? A banquet was the first cause of the French Revolution. The frequent banquets of the Railway King may cause a similar rising in his dominions. His subjects may not relish his breakfasting when he pleases, or his stopping to dine or lunch at what hour or what place he likes, especially when they may have not breakfasted or dined or lunched themselves, and are anxious to get to their ponents end to fulfil those pleasant duties. His numerous stoppages, too, at each trip, may ultimately put a stoppage to his own career. A railway is adangerous game, which, if kings were wise, they would not play with too recklessly, for it may become a mighty engine of destruction, and fly in its sovereign’s face. The throne of the Tuilleries is now but a heap of cinders, at the bottom probably of the Aotte of some chiffonier of Paris. Let the autocrat of the Eastern Counties beware lest his own diadem ornament the brow of some scavanger in the employ of Messrs. JoHNSON AND Price!!! ! UN-ENGLISH CONDUCT AT MILAN, “ Letters from Vienna,” says the Morning Post, “ state that so great was the hatred at Milan of anything German, that the people rose and left the La Scala Theatre as soon as Fanny E1ister made her first bound on the stage, although she had hitherto been adored there.” We sympathise with the Milanese in their intolerance of foreign domination; but cannot say we admire the manifestation of it above recorded. The tyranny of Austria, one would think, is a petticoat-government, and Fanny Exis Er its representative, considering the animosity which they displayed towards her. After this demonstration against German capers, we suppose they will next vent their fury on German sausages. No pas executed by Fanny Ex.ster has consisted in trampling on the necks of the people of Milan; her bounds have never exceeded those of their Constitution ; nor has she ever polked upon their rights, or pirouetted over their liberties. She has not enslaved the Milanese ; and if, like many other continental townsfolk, they have harnessed themselves to the chariot of the danseuse, it has been their voluntary act. Let them express their patriotic indignation like men—which they certainly have not done by outpouring it in an insult’to a lady. THE PATENTEES OF GOVERNMENT. We are so profoundly convinced that no Ministry can survive for a week unless it is compounded of the Nobility, that we have the most serious alarms for the duration of the Provisional Government at Paris. Why, there is not a single Lord amongst them! It is true that the members are all men of genius, every one of whom has distinguished himself, more or less, by his talents—but. what has that to do with Government? No! Give us the Red Book before all other books, be they histories, or the best works on political economy, or the cleverest book you like. What is a man like LAMARTINE toa Marquis? How cana person like Louis Bianc, much less the editor of a newspaper, know as much about statesman- ship as an Earl, or a Viscount, or even a Right Honourable? No; the probability is absurd. ‘The race of statesmen are all born with coronets. It is a breed of itself. The branches of Government, to flourish, must be covered with strawberry-leaves. Fora country to be happy, to be free from debt, to be pros- perous, the Ministers that guide it must be selected on the golden rule of “ NoBixity BE- FORE ABILITY.” The preference reads rather absurd, but the thing has been proved so often in England. that the justice of it must be true: an are we not particularly happy P—Look to the Income-Tax. Are we not free from debt ?— Only refer to the National Debt. And are we not prosperous ?—But it is useless solving these questions when we have a Whig Ministry. The Genius of Statesmanship abides only in Heralds’ College. 8ST. HELENA THE SECOND. Tue Napoteon oF Peace has worked out his resemblance to his namesake. He now only wants a St. Helena, which we hope he will find at Claremont, where, upon his two millions in the British Funds, he will be ena- bled to rough it quietly for the remainder of his days. Fast Mayn’s Provers.—It is your early | bird that catches the early purl. — or"

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eg ILE. was greeted with frantic applause. The wife of his Excellency was present during the interview. PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHAKiVARL ‘ 107 A DREAM OF THE FUTURE. ESTERDAY Mr. Punch had a dream, which was not alladream. Mr. P. was reading the Morning Herald at the Club, and he fell asleep thereover, and he dreamed that a great revolution had been accomplished, and an ancient monarchy topsyturvyfied, and that the Morning Herald was the Government paper, and contained as follows :— This day the Citizen President of the Republic, and Minister of Foreign Affairs, took possession of the palace of the nation. His Excellency’s Ministry is composed as follows :— Minister of Foreign Affairs, Presi- = dent of the Council, and Poet = —Lanreate, Crmizen Monckton MILNEs. CrrizEN BenJAMIN DISRAELI. Crrizen SAMUEL WaRREN, with “Ten Thousand a Year” for salary. Citizen Fearcus O’Connor, Citizen Harrison AINSWORTH. Citizen Butwer Lytton. Citizen CoBppEN. Minister of the Interior - - High Chancellor - - . Chancellor of the Exchequer Minister of Education - - Minister of the Colonies - Minister at War - - - Minister of Ireland - - + Citizen StarrorD, who resumed with pride the name of O’Brien. Master of the Mint - - Citizen DuncomMBE. Citizen BortHwIck. CivizEN Bricut. Citizen MacHatz, Cit1zEN WippIcomMBE, Paymaster-General - -- Archbishop of Canterbury - Commander-in-Chief - - Master of the Horse - - Cit1zEN Puncn was sent Ambassador to Paris, where the arrival of Citizen Urqunart has been appointed Governor and Commander- in-Chief of the Mare’s Nest Islands, and has sailed in quest of his Government. Citizen Anstry took leave, as Consul-General of Jericho. He addressed a parting allocution to the President of the Republic, which he performed, for about three days, in a private room. Citizen Joun Russet is quieter to-day. Since the glorious events of Fructidor, in which he behaved with so much mistaken gallantry, the Citizen’s head has wandered considerably, and, it is supposed, has not recovered from the blow inflicted on it at the storming of Downing- street, when engaged in single combat with the intrepid Citizen Keetey. He still imagines that there are Whigs left in the country. CitizEN LanpsrER goes Ambassador to Vienna. CiTIzENNEsS Grorce Sanp, Ambassadress from the French Republic, had an audience, yesterday, of his Excellency the Minister of Foreign Affairs. The Citizeness, wife of the President of the Republic, took an airing yesterday in her pony-chaise, accompanied by her children on donkeys, and attended by the Citizens PLANTAGENET and SoMERSET. | The CirizeNess MontTpENSIER gave her Excellency’s children lessons on the Spanish guitar. There is no foundation for the report that the Citizen Nemours is to replace Citizen NatHan as dancing- master to the family of the first magistrate, it being the intention of the Government to support native talent as far as possible. Cit1zEN Peet, whose services at the head of his regiment on the aon ae the Revolution were so brilliant, has been appointed Major- eneral. A large amount of specie arrived yesterday at Liverpool, on board the Irish Imperial steamer Zareanouns, in payment of the debt of ten | millions contracted during the time of the famine. The Council of the | Kings of that country assembled at Dublin last week, and were magni- | ticently entertained by the Emperor at his palace of Stoneybatter. Her Imperial Majesty is progressing very favourably, and rumour says, that | & marriage is in contemplation between their Majesties’ nineteenth | daughter Gavanrna, and a prince of the Royal house of Mutuican. | MERCY FOR ANNETTE MEYERS. ‘Sentenced to death ; and awaiting execution, ANNETTE Mrvers.—Newspaper Report.” UrceEp, outraged, by the basest wrong That ever madden’d brain, Ajwoman, in her frenzy strong, Her paramour hath slain. The law that blood for blood’demands Hath seal’d her for the hangman’s hands. Yet, ere the irrevocable hour Of death hath pass’d away, Consider well, ye men of power, Will ye that creature slay ? Can mercy find no reason why he wretched being should not die ? Oh! cruel was the injury, Envenom’d was the dart Which wrung her soul to agony, And rankled in her heart ; Betray’d, deserted, seorn’d, she had Thus cause enough to drive her mad. Yet more—the villain for whose sake She turn’d her steps astray ; The hound—the miscreant—sought to make A booty of his prey. He bade her go and sin, that he Might batten on her infamy. She slew the caitiff where he stood, She murder’d him, ’tis true; We know she did a deed of blood, And nought can change its hue. She crush’d a reptile—still she trod Upon the image of her Gop. Insulted honour is no plea, No privilege to kill : Such is the law, so let it be— Murder is murder still. Yet she may hold her blood-stain’d hand Up with the noblest of the land. Ye who from slander’s slightest breath Would purge your precious fame, Who would avenge unto the death An insult to your name, What would you do—have done, in fact— Less than the frantic woman’s act ? Victoria, in thy courtly train The duellist goes free, One hast thou pardon’d in thy reign, Spite of the law’s decree ; Pity and precedent may strive To save this erring soul alive. A CASE OF REAL DISTRESS. “Dear Puncn, **T ama reporter attached to the press, and can boast, notwith- standing, of a gentlemanly exterior. This, which you would fancy ought to have proved the greatest advancement in my profession, has turned out my greatest drawback. Whenever there is a ball, 1 am selected; as often as there is a grand dinner, I am the chosen victim. I happen to be respectable, and have to suffer for it accordingly. How- ever, I do not complain of this so much as the awful expense it entails. 1 like a dinner as well as most people, especially when there is nothing to pay for it; but I must say I am not fond of the numerous little expensive items which genteel society saddles upon a good-looking young man. White kid gloves, do as you will, will not last more than two nights; and polished leather boots are apt to crack, when you are compelled by necessity to walk to and from the different scenes of gaiety you are sent to report upon. I have represented these things to my proprietors, and asked for a small increase of salary. An extra pound a week is all I ask, and to be allowed my cab-fare on wet nights. Will you believe it, the mercenary wretches refuse it ? “A word from you, I think, would remedy the abuse. My pride will not allow me to go to a soirée in black kids, and my means will not permit me to throw up my situation. It’s a terrible thing, but do you know I often wish I had been born with red hair. * Yours, au désespoir, “ PELHAM J-NK-NS.” VOL, XIV. M

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL

FRANTIC DELIGHT OF MESSRS. SMITH, BROWN, AND ROBINSON AT THE ARRIVAL OF LOUIS-PHILIPPE. THE POLITICAL BROTHERS. Tre Siamese Twins are about to send in their ape MB ATT adhesion, also, to the French Government. Their — ad "4 Mh My Woes Wea ey \ OA! mt . Ai: ih =* = W WN MN i tay aa ENS all a Tt LAY ( nn iV (i . (Ss wt | f iV ha i a i if : SS { J A| a —— ) ————— — | N

motto, henceforth, is to be “Union, Force, Fra- ternité.’ Their Union promises, at all events, to be binding; and no one can dispute that their Fraternité is upon an equal footing, which is more than can be said for that which has been lately displayed at Rouen, and other places where the English workmen have been expelled. Let us hope, if Fraternité is to bind England and France together, that it will resemble that of the Siamese Twins, and be equally strong on both sides, and that they will march together, leaning one upon the other, keeping {Wresyta HUT AL A: y Uy’: \

defy the efforts of all the world to make them | fall out, or to separate them 4 any division, without doing equal injury to both, This would | be something like a Fraternité ! Wanted a President. PN | | the Presidency of the Royal Society—we bet a NYY) My] | thousand to one that another Lord is elected in his place! Who'll take it? The wager is per- fectly safe; for it is a well-known and painful | truth, that there is not a single scientific man in | England—not one literary person in the whole | kingdom—who is worthy to represent a scientific L.P. “Au! my pean Mr. Surtn! I perrectty RECOLLECT THAT NaME WHEN I was 1N Enctanp | and literary body. The Peerage alone can supply BEFORE. I’m ctap THat I’m on EnGLisuH Grounp aGain, Ma. Smita!” ithe deficiency. Vive le Flunkeyisme !

the same | step and movement, and having but one impulse, | one soul between them, and then they may safely |

THE ART OF MAKING YOURSELF UNPOPULAR. THERE are a thousand different ways which a man, who has a genius that way, may practise with success one after another; bat at present we will only take the political way. This is easy enough, and may, if persevered in, win you the hurrahs of two or three unwashed adherents, and the condemnation of every sensible person. First of all, make yourself a busybody in your parish. Attend every posting. If there is no meeting going on, start one. If the meeting is prohibited, keep away : never mind about the consequences. Of course ou are very sorry; but it was no fault of yours; you were not there. ion’t be put down, however: start another meeting to-morrow. You are bound to make yourself unpopular, and you cannot do better than by constantly getting up meetings wherever they are likely to lead to disturbances, and interrupt business. If windows are broken, all the better for you. People talk about ou, and blame you for it, and this materially heightens your un pu- ity. If you save no meeting of your own, interrupt somebody else’s ; you are an Englishman, and have a right to be heard. Get on the platform and propose counter-resolutions—or a vote of censure on the Chairman is not bad. It creates a row, and stupid editors rave about it the next morning. Persons exclaim, “There’s that fellow again ;” and if you are very lucky, a song about you will be sung in the streets. Threaten all sorts of prosecutions, and never lose a chance of writing a letter to the newspapers ; it all tends to keep your name alive, acd that is your great object. If you have nothing todo, go to the Workhouse. Taste the soup. Give the crossing-sweepers a ltt d mind you abuse everybody, but particularly the ric Attend the Vestry regularly. Doubt everything; deny everything ; op every- thing. You are sure to be right sometimes; and your conduct proves annoying in any case. You don’t attend to please people. Get -a- dozen men to follow you about, and cheer you. A shilling a-piece—six shillings a day—will do it handsomely. They must make a deal of noise for the money, however, and you must stop every now and then and address them about the Income-Tax. Write your Memoirs, an introduce everybody,—ladies, servants, char-women, and every one you know. Do all this boldly, unblushingly, and perseveringly, and you will not only succeed in achieving a moderate degree of unpopularity, but the chances are, that you will become, in time, The Most Unpo- pular Man of the Day. Singular Unity in Two Kings. CHARLES THE TENTH, when he entered France, is said to have exclaimed, “ Ji n’y a qu’un Francais de plus!”

_ Lovis-PHILirre 4 exclaim, with almost as much truth, “ There is nothing changed in rance—there is only a Frenchman the less ! ”

Tremendous Feat. Tue Morning Chronicle, in its account of the Munich disturbances, says—“ Public curiosity was on tiptoe, in which position it remained all day.” We imagine that Public Curiosity must have been fairly tired out before the evening came. Affairs on the Continent must be on a curious footing when Public Curiosity remains for twelve hours at a time on tiptoe. We always thought Mapame Fuoco was the most celebrated for standing the longest on her toes, but she has not a leg to stand upon by the side of her rival at Munich. ESOP IN LONDON. A royat dog of poodle breed, A very hungry dog indeed, Bore in his mouth a regal crown, Snapp’d up when it had tumbled down ; Dispute the ownership one might, Who took too strict a view of right ; But all agreed to shut their eyes Upon the title to the prize, While the old dog, all tricks above, * A trusty guardian should prove. One day, while ran Time’s rapid stream, He in it saw a bauble gleam— The vague reflection of a crown, The shadowy likeness of his own. **T have a son who’d gladly wear The treasure that lies glittering there ; When its effulgence I behold, It looks to me like Spanish gold. Temptation [’ll no more resist!” He made a snap, the prize he miss’d. The shadow now was lost to view, But he had dropp’d the substance too, And in a current fierce and strong The crown he had was borne along; Upon the angry billows toss’d, In Revolution’s storm ’twas lost. “Unhappy dog,” the poodle cried, As he survey’d the foaming tide, “Tn grasping at the shade below, Alas! I’ve let the substance go.”

Q. E. D.—The nutmeg is certain! q the strongest proof of the mathematical axiom, that “ the less is ways contained in the grater.”

| | | THe Marquis or NortHampron retires from |

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 109

A DISTURBER OF PUBLIC PEACE AND COMFORT ty “4 7 ; LLL / YYEEE SHE Ly S i) SY?

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Ls LFA MA Gao. Na ¥ Yj. SP S J ? AND COMF AND BREAK SOME ViNDERS.” Soldier. Or course I won’r; put I*Lt puncn YouR HEAD IF you DON'T MOVE OFF.”

THE TRUSTEE. A TRUE STORY, Ir is not often that the law is susceptible of romance ; and indeed we

know of nothing in connection with legal pursuits that is particularly | touching, except the fingers of a bailiff. There has, however, lately | come to our knowledge an incident, or rather a series of incidents, | replete with the tenderest pathos. The subject is that of a Trustee, | who had been persuaded to accept a trust under the persuasion that as « mere trustee of property, the enjoyment of which he ihas nothing to do with, no liability of any kind can possibly attach to him. The sim- vlicity with which he adheres to the impression of his being only a trustee, while suits at Law and in Equity, with their consequent costs, shower down upon him, will remind the reader of the innocent exclamation of “ We are Seven!” so affectingly persisted in by the little child in the famous poem of Worpsworts. A simple creature GAFFER JONES, - ourt he never saw ; An income adequate he owns; What should he know of Law? He had a quiet stupid air, And he was richly clad ; I thought if he’s got cash to spare, Tis easy to be had. A suit I heard was ’gainst him brought, Which must expensive be. : ‘Expense! ” he cried ; “ Pooh pooh, ’tis nought; | I’m only a trustee.” **But how is that? I pray you tell.” He answered, “ Don’t you see? I’d got some property to sell—

Only as a trustee. “Two purchasers they did apply, Whilst, to prevent all bother, - When one hung back I by and by Concluded with the other. “The first from Chancery got a writ, And served it straight on me; But why am I to care a bit — I’m only a trustee.” ** You say in Chancery you are thrown; Great the expense vill be; And since the fault has been your own, The costs will fall on thee.” Then did the simpleton reply, “Tis true the first vendee Has filed a bill—I can’t tell why— I’m only a trustee.” *You’re in a mess, my little man, As sure as you’re alive, Unless to hit upon a plan For safety you contrive.” “You’re rather green, it may be seen,” ‘The silly man replied ; “The purchase-money paid has been, The fund I did divide ; “* And when 1’d parted with it, Sir, Another suit they brought ; Because, they said, I’d sold it for Less money than I ought. “Tirst, the original vendee Had filed a bill to say, His purchase-money paid would be, Upon a certain day. “But as it happen’d, I’d been paid By number two, and I To him had the estate consign’d, Passing the first one by; “And as I did not better know With whom I ~~ to side, I’ve let the money from me go— The fund I did divide. “So the executors have brought An action ’gainst me, too, Yet I’ve proceeded as I thought *T were best for me to do.” ** How many suits must you defend, In numbers odd or even?” Said he, “‘To say I can’t pretend : I think, though, there are seven. * But then, you know, you ’ll understand It matters not to me; | For though no fund I’ve got in hand, I still am a trustee.” “The cash is gone, the suits run on, Each day requires a fee!” ?T was waste of argument, for still He said, “I’ve not to pay a bill, I’m only a trustee.”

A PLEASANT DAY’S WORK. Tie Morning Chronicle says that “ Honour undeserved, is twice degrading—it degrades both those who offer, and him who takes it.” | It would be a pleasant calculation, as pleasant as calculating the fly-spots on a pastrycook’s ceiling, to ascertain, with the above scale, the awful amount of degradation there must exist in England! Look to the occupiers of rotten boroughs, Lords’ nominees—what a large share they would contribute! ‘Turn your eyes towards the Government appointments, the endless shoeblacks of Ministers, or the acci- | dental possessors of a title—what an incalculable proportion of degra- | dation they would subscribe to the national stock! Count up the | sinecures ; add to them all the genteel ror who are ry | domi- | ciled for life on the Pension List; and pray don’t forget the Six- Clerks’ Office, and the immense mass of corrupt honours its death gave | birth to. Ascertain the sum total of all this, if you have the heart and | stomach to do it; ny the result of degradation by two, and then sit | down to dinner with what appetite you may. We are beginning, as we | get more ‘philosophic, to believe that appointments and all the great | points of life are won, according to our present game of society, infinitely | more by “tricks” than “ honours.”

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110 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI THE NELSON COLUMN EMEUTE RECITATIVE, O’sR Netson’s Column, by a hoard concealed, All London cried to have the base revealed ; Those dismal hoards have shut it in for years, Washed by two ginger-beer-like fountains’ tears. ATR, *T was in Trafalgar Square, We saw the blackguards there : Each scamp was busy then. A frothy noodle spoke, They turned his words to joke, Both the boys and the men. To’ards Netson’s Column rolled the wave, Three cheers the little blackguards gave, A roar devoid of beauty ; To Scotland Yard the signal ran, For Mayne expects that every man This day will be on duty. And now the urchins roar More wildly than before : Young SNoBKIN led the way. His hand a stone has aimed, And a policeman, maimed, Is useless for the day. That broken head was dearly bought, For Syoskrn from a truncheon caught A crack that spoiled his beauty ; He roared, as from the scene he ran, “T’m a poor boy, and that ’ere man Has been and done his duty!” The base of Netson’s shaft A flight of stones received ; Good taste was on the side Of those who push’d and shied, And thundering brickbats heav’d. The sticks and stones flew thick and fast ; The ugly hoarding fell at last : T'was void of use or beauty ; It tumbled with a crash and bang ; The Square with the confession rang—" “The scamps have done their duty ! ” THE EXCITEMENT OF NELSON ON FINDING HIS HOARDING REMOVED, A Financial Questio:, answered by Mr. Dunup. A. mAs given a Bill to B., and A. finds himself without a shilling when the Bill has only two days to run. Now what is A. to do under such circumstances ? Answer. If the Bill has two days to run, A. has of course two days to run also, and he had better un accordingly. RAILWAY REPORTS. Even Railways have their reckonings, and this is the time of year selected to compel them to disgorge their gains. Meetings are reluc- | tantly summoned by the Directors, and crowds of hungry shareholders | are squeezed together “‘ by five hours at a time. The chairman pronounces a report, which is second only to a speech | from the throne in vagueness, generality, and mystification. Anon comes the secretary, redolent of new shares, and he thickens the mist by a jumble of accounts, a hotch-potch of loans, debentures, calls, and balances, and generally winds up his abstruse financial puzzles by a prophetic announcement that the traffic next year is sure to be unpre- cedented and immense. All this is Greek to the poor shareholders, who really understand but one word in the whole Railway vocabulary—the welcome sound of “dividend ;” but the fear of being thought a commercial nincompoop compels each one to look perfectly up to snuff, and wondrous wise. It is amusing, moreover, to observe how the Directors manage (notwith- | standing the impertinent interruptions of some inconveniently acute shareholder, whose sayings are recorded as those of “ A voice”) some- how or other 30 to mix up this word dividend with other complicated details, as to leave the unhappy shareholdets unable at the end to say whether they have to receive money or to pay it. How refreshing, then, to find that the reports of our own pet line are untainted by the faults alluded to! The public should know this; — vn. a pattern to other Companies, we subjoin some extracts from 2 last ** REPORT OF THE Hum AnD DippLEsex Rarway. “The Chairman would now refer to their finance statement. (Hear /) He felt bound to say it would be found most satisfactory. £7000 had been mortgaged on annuities at par, and their debentures were wholly independent of their stock of engines (Cheers). The permanent way was now in trust for the increased debits’on the gradients (Hear / hear /) From this it was clear that there was £4000 balance per contra on the new half shares. (A voice, ‘ What’s the receipts?’) The chairman could not be expected to go into such details. Whey had lately opened six miles of the ‘ Navvey and Stoker Extension branch,’ which he had no doubt would pay well when a town had arisen at each end, and traffic was induced between them. (A voice, ‘ What’s the expendi- ture?’) The Chairman begged not to be interrupted. The Meeting would observe one little item of £56,000 for law expenses. They had triumphed over their opponents. True, they had incurred some trifling | expense—but were they, he asked, to be insulted by the Grand Gump.- | tion? (‘No/’) or by any other line? (‘ Vo, xo /? and cheers.) Then as to the dividend—(Hear, hear, hear /)—the secretary had recommended a nett dividend of 10 per cent. (Hear/) on the deficit, and this, after paying the surplus and Directors’ salaries (which, he was glad to say, vad been raised £500 each per annum), left the 4 per cent. incidental expenses as money in hand, which would render it necessary for the | shareholders at once to pay up the late £20 calls. (Sensation. A voice, | ‘What is the dividend to be?’) The Chairman put it to the Meeting whether the gentleman’s question had not already been distinctly answered, and after some confusion he vacated the chair, and the meeting separated.” Mitchell “‘ at Home.” From the advertisements we learn that shortly there is to be an ** AsyLuM For [ptots” erected. It would not make a bad publishing | oflice for the United Irishman. The whole editorial staff might, also, | be transferred, and be put under kind medical treatment, as long as they madly persisted in writing. Each number of the paper might have stamped upon it: “‘ Eutered at the Asylum for Idiots,” as a voucher of its correctness. We have no doubt that all the articles would be perfectly up to the mark. THE LAST MOMENTS OF A REPUBLICAN. Suc is the unanimity amongst all bodies for the new form of Government in France, that the Baur Gras, previous to his last sigh at the abattoir, was heard most distinctly to murmur the repub- lican tune of “ Mourir pour la Patrie.’? He departed into beef in the most perfect peace. Svmpathy. TWELVE thousand five-franc pieces have been struck at the Mint of the French Republic. This was no sooner known, than every employé connected with the late Government immediately sent in his adhesion. = —_ not say that their patriotic devotion has not yet been put to e touch.

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 111 A SPECIAL ENGINE. THE NEW CONTRIBUTOR. Durine the late rush of French news, several of our contemporaries have been boasting of their “ special engine.” Are we to understand by this, that each pemnanges has its own particular boiler? We shall look anxiously for them the next visit we pay to the Dover Railway. Some of these engines, however, get thane 9 a quantity of writing. The one on the Morning Post ran last week through two columns of print, and turned the corner of the third. M. ps Lamartine has said ‘*The days of fictions are over ;” but still we imagine that a few of these “ special engines,” are kept at home, where they are supplied with ink instead of boiling water, and, once set going, make at least fifty “ Revolutions ” an hour, and every one of them turn out to be a greater fiction than ever was invented by ALEXANDRE Dumas, or even that great “special engine ” of fiction, Mr. G. P. R. James. We should not at all wonder that the name of the Morning Post’s “special engine” was JENKINS. “SATISFACTION” FROM SIR ROBERT INGLIS. Tr is not often that we have the pleasure of agreeing with Str Robert Incuis. Most cordially, however, do we approve of his views on the subject of duelling, as expressed the other evening, in reply to a certain 4 from Mr. Suert. Sir Rosert Inetis is reported to have thus spoken :— **T trust I should have acted as a gentleman, and a Christian gentleman, ought to do. The — honourable and learned gentleman knows very well—at least, I hope he does— that while it is not my habit or wish ever to give offence, it would not be consistent with my principles to give the satisfaction which he seems to indicate.’’ We are sorry that our typographical resources will not allow us to print the foregoing words in letters of gold. Simm Rosert Ine is, whatever he is, assuredly is—not by courtesy alone—an honourable gentleman, As such—by his public repudiation of duelling—he has done much to disco that asinine and savage practice. For once, at least, we can cry Hear, hear! to what has fallen from the Member for Oxford. From whomsoever he may have withheld satisfaction, he has given great satisfaction to Punch. A Minister for the Interior. WE emphatically advise Mowsteur pz Lamartine, at the very first vacancy, or even signs of sinking amongst his corps, to call in the services of the Baur Gras, and without mincing the matter, appoint him to fill the Interior. His substance and weight in the country THE POLITICAL LAUGHING CHORUS. TO BE SUNG AT ALL CABINET COUNCILS. (Arzn.—** The Laughing Chorus” in Der Freyschutz.) Lorp Joun Russet. Wuy, good people of the nation, Call so loud for fair taxation P Don’t you wish—ye Britons free— You may get it? Hahahe! Ho ho ho ho, ha ha he ! Chorus of Ministers and their Majority. Ho ho ho ho ho ho ho ho! Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha! Ho ho ha ha! Ho ho ha ha! Ho ho ho ho, ha ha he ! Ho ho ho ho, ha ha ha ha he! Just alike—for all heart-burnings— We’|l tax interest, rent, and earnings. You may grumble—what care we ? Not a button! Ha ha he ! Chorus—Ho ho! &c. Tncomes, well we know, are various, Some are certain—some precarious ; Fully we admit the plea. Here’s our answer—Ha ha he! Chorus—Ho, ho! &e. Profits die with money-makers, Income lives with funds and acres ; Plain although that truth may be, We’ll ignore it. Haha he! Chorus—Ho ho! &c. Tradesmen, lawyers, and physicians, We’ve considered your petitions ; That your case is hard, we see. Granted. Very. Ha ha he! Chorus—Ho ho! &c. Taxes we, in equal measure, Did it suit our will and pleasure, Might adjust quite easily. It don’t suit us. Haha he! Chorus—Ho ho! &e. We, of lands and funds possessors, Of ourselves our own assessors, Tax ourselves in just degree ? Very likely! Ha ha he! Chorus—Ho ho! &ce. All your vain exasperation At our partial legislation, Serves but to excite our glee. We deride you! Haha he! Chorus—Ho ho! &c. The Great Window-Breaker. We wonder if Mr. Cocnrane has any particular friend or relation who is a glazier? We ask this question, seeing the immense quantity of broken glass in the neighbourhood of Trafalgar Square. He has a curious notion, if he fancies he can get into Parliament through a broken window. The immense pains he has taken to be a Member, have been smashed all in one day. It would serve him right if he were made to pay for every sheet of glass that has been broken in conse- quence of t e late riots. Talk of the “Star of Brunswick !” why, it’s nothing to the “Great Star of Cocorane.” Swan & Encar’s shop- window has one exhibited almost ineach pane. No actor ever “ starred it” on such an extensive scale as the rejected M.P. for Westminster ! NOT BAD FOR A MANAGER. Tur Manager of a London Theatre calls the rows at Trafalgar Square, tion of a French piece.” To the Nobility in General. could not fail to strengthen materially a Provision-al Committee in the eyes of all France, and we are sure that thousands who now hold aloof, would quickly rally round it, with such a member at the head of the Republican Board. \ ANTED, A NOBLEMAN who will undertake to dispense once a month, upon rather a liberal scale, tea, lemonade, and biscuits, for a large assembly. The company is select, and he will be allowed to mix with some of the greatest men in England.—Sealed Tenders, stating most liberal terms, to be sent in to the Royal Society, marked “ President.” No scientific or literary man necd apply. ot up in childish imitation of the Paris Revolution, “The bad trans- |

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112 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. ; THE TRAFALGAR SQUARE REVOLUTION. Monpay, the 6th of March, 1848, was ushered in much as usual, by the striking of clocks, the cries of “ Milk below!” the shouts of “ Dust O, dust !” and the shrill shrieks of “ Hareskins, cook!” but nothin seemed to betoken that a Revolution was at hand. An individual name | CocHRANE, impressed with an ardent desire for equality, had conceived the desperate idea of making ererpneny else in London as great a fool as himself; and, strange to say, he succeeded to some extent in his bold experiment. This person, who aspires to the title of the Windmill Street Wasuixctox, but to whom the name of the Cockney Cinna would be more appropriate, had called a meeting of his friends to petition against the Income-Tax. It is ever thus that a good cause is injured by the intrusion of Tom-Noddies, who, like blue-bottles on a gilt frame, deface that to which they add neither use nor ornament. It having been intimated to CocuRaneE that the contemplated meeting was illegal, and that if he attended it the police would teach him to know his proper place, by putting him in an appropriate Station, the Champion of the People’s Liberties made arrangements for preserving his own, by stopping away from the gathering. The intended hero of the day was understood to be concealed in one of the receptacles for | soup, he having run into his own kitchen to “ beg a copper,” that he might be out of the way during the period of danger. Some hundreds of vagabonds and boys were on the spot at an early hour, and though their burning enthusiasm did not allow them to con- tinue cool, they were certainly collected—but such a collection it would be difficult to furnish an accurate description of. For a con- siderable time theye was little stir, except when an occasional juvenile immersed his unaccustomed hands in the waters of the Trafalgar Square basins. At length, in the absence of Mr. Cocurane, a person who was understood to be a literary gent from Holywell Street, declared himself ready to preside over the meeting. He was accordingly hoisted on to the top of a balustrade, which he called the pinnacle of human great- ness, and began to hold forth on the necessity for abolishing everything, and uniting mankind in one great elastic Indian-rubber band of universal | SELVes !! TABLEAU I. Cochranite. “‘ Hooray ! To tue Pats !! VeEEVE LER Liserty! ! Down WITH HEAVERYTHINK !!!!” | tears, the command he had undertaken. Harm your- brotherhood. He wanted to see ail men equal; and the majority of the mob, in pursuance of this liberal maxim, commenced equalising the con- tents of each others’ pockets, and taking from their neighbours a purse, rences of Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday, an account of the events of the THREE GLORIOUS DAYS devoted to the Trafalgar Square Revolution. : _ Monday, March 6th. Charing Cross is occupied by a crowd of juveniles, a sprinkling of thieves, and a mass of idlers. The up omnibus from Kensington is locked —wheels within wheels—with the Putney down, and further collisions are expected. The passengers, in a state of alarm, are fraternising with the cad, and the cad is, in his turn, fraternising with a policeman, who, if the former is prepared to treat, is quite ready to listen. While Inspector A is considering whether he shall make a splash or cause a movement in the back-ground to create a diversion, he is suddenly pitched into the left-hand basin, to the delight of the insurgents. While this incident occurs, the rebels seem to be seized with a desire to select their colours, and for this purpose they adopt the silk hand- kerchiefs, which they tear from the pocket nearest at hand, without regard to price or pattern. They evince a determination to support liberty, by a general making free, and they tear off the chains—watches included—from their surrounding brethren. | Roprnson. They resolve to show their Republicanism by breaking all the crown-glass that they can get a shot at unseen by the authorities. | As night advances, Brown fraternises with Jones, and Jones with | a watch, or a handkerchief, as a token of fraternity. The Revolution | had now fairly started, and we give from an eye-witness of the occur- | | | | Wut, who, as a tailor, may be supposed to have prepared his measures, | takes from his pocket a pair of military epaulettes, and exclaiming “Let’s harm ourselves!” gets a blow from a policeman’s staff, and, roaring out “It ain’t me, Sir,” surrenders, in a voice choked with Tomkins, of the London | TABLEAU II. PASS pees eo 1) | aA - WIE ) o@ WED ( cS : Pais ae Saw: to Dy DS 2 py , — HS ) ¥ === \ "Ze a en\| We) _ yi a’; : Cochranite. “Ou, Srr—pieasE, Sir—It arnt Me, Srr—I’m For Gop Save THe Kine’ anp ‘Rute Brittannier,.’ Boo—-Hoo— On pear! On pear!!” (Bursts into tears.) | | | | ———

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 115 a Fingery, has attempted to form a barricade of an ape, and begins by confiscating the whole of the halfpence found on the top of the barrow, paying the amount into his own pocket, to the credit of the movement. He hurries along, followed by a few ad- herents, and raising a cry “To the Palace!” where he is about to throw a stone at the lamp over the gate, shouting “ No Mono- maniarchy!” “ Veeve ler publics!” when, seeing one of the military on guard, TomxK1ns takes to his heels, with the whole of his comrades, who prove themselves to be indeed the “movement party,” by the speed with which they evaporate. _ i ; . Being out of sight of the soldier, and meeting with no police, Tomxiys rallies his band, and perceiving a baker’s shop with a little girl behind the counter, they rush in, demanding bread and butter. The little girl, having placed the shelves at their disposal, they pitch all the white loaves into the street, and pouncing on the till, make it — that the browns, rather than the whites, are the objects of their anxiety. : Tuesday, March 7th. | It is clear from the beginning of the day that the Revolution will be continued, for all the rogues and vagabonds, boys and idlers from the suburbs, have fraternised with the insurgents in London. The shops at Charing Cross are closed, and a tobacconist having had his windows broken and his snuff stolen the day before, deals out rappee with a liberal hand and a thick staff on the heads of the Revolutionists. Hitherto much uncertainty had prevailed as to the object of the émeute, but the mystery was now cleared up by an attack on the permanent hoard established for some time past at the base of the Nelson Column. This irritating piece of exclusiveness, at which the loyal, constitutional, and rational M/r. Punch himself had often expressed his disapprobation, LTHE MILITARY FRATERNISE WTAE PEO was more than the populace could continue to bear, and the Revolution, until now promt! ay urposeless, found an object in the demolition of the hoarding round the oot of the Trafalgar Square monument. Not even Lovis-PHiLipre was more completely deserted by his friends parasites, and servants, than was this unpopular wood-work abandone at the instant of its becoming the subject of obvious hostility. Even the police, who had acted excellently in defending all our other institu- tions, declined to draw a truncheon in defence of this remnant of bar- barism, which was swept off as unceremoniously and helplessly as the late French monarchy. Upon this event the Revolution seems to have accomplished what little purpose it may have had in view, and the whole metropolis was animated by a determination to put down any further attempts at in- surrection; nevertheless the boys, thieves, and rabble continued during | Tie MA | THe MACESTY oF THE LAW IS VINDICATED. 7. 4 Tuesday and the day following tofproceed with their designs, which instead of having for their object the framing of a new Constitution, The Revolution is at an end. We did not hear of a single instance of adhesion, excepting on the - of a quantity of sticking plaister, which ve in its adhesion to the heads of the rioters. Many of them will lave an ~ aa wed of making themselves acquainted with the practice, if not with the theory of Revolutions, by an introduction to the tread- mill, woe they will have the common wheel at their feet for a limited period. (ANOTHER ACCOUNT.) Trafalgar Square, Monday, 11 am. Tue Square is full. The manifestation against the Income Tax will be volcanic, for the annual income of the sovereign people as- | | sembled, would not (| amount to £150 if put ' “together. Mr. Opi1- ton Barrot Cocu- => RANE is expected every minute. The autho- Z ities have declared their intention of in- terfering. Should a collision take place, I shall immediately take a cab and bring you the intelligence. The consequences will be frightful! The mob are well provided with the munitions of war : balls (brandy) are being openly sold at three a penny! Several caissons of powder (egg or curry, I am not sure which) are just passing through Cockspur Street to Fortnum & Mason’s. I tremble lest the mob should plunder.it. 11h. 153m. a.m. A frightful yell has this instant burst from the crowd. It is occa- sioned “ a placard—OpiLtton Barrot Cocurane has deserted the people! The banquet of broken heads, the feast of fogles, is to be put off. He has issued a bill, telling the sovereign mob to respect the police, and disperse. As the various groups read this manifesto, they exclaim—“ Stupid !” “ Muff!” “ Cur!” “Gherkin!” A friend has just rushed up from Scotland Yard, to inform your Own Correspondent that the Municipal Guard, with their Staff, are in marching order. lh. 174m. a. um. The police have formed in the Square, and all the cabs have driven away! [P.S. Should anything happen to “ Your Own,” please send his — Nel q | salary to his widow in Somer’s Town.] ; OUR 4RTIST MAKING SKETCHES OF THE REVOLUTION IN TRAFALGAR SQUARE. 12h. 5m, P. M. | “Weave lay Republick !” resounds from all quarters; and_a man in epaulettes, who is holding by the horse’s tail of GEoRGE THE Fourtu’s statue, is ing on several gentlemen for the “ Mar-sell-loys,” but were aimed unquestionably at the new framing—and glazing—of the windows of the metropolis. none of ’em know it, and the as nse is the blood-thirsty cry of ‘ Brandy-balls three a penny!” issiles are flying in every direction,

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116 PUNCH. OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. and your Own Correspondent is obliged to close his despatch abruptly, the pen having been knocked out of his hand by a rotten apple. ([P.S. You will, of course, send Mrs. O. C. salary for éwo weeks, should anything more serious happen. ] lh. 1m. p.m. A multitude has just arrived from the Faubourg St. Giles’s. The Municipal Guard are trying to stave them off with their truncheons. Stones darken the air. m. P.M. 3h. Glorious news! They are going to demolish the National Gallery; | but express a benevolent determination to restore the pictures. It is to be hoped they will do it better than it was done this time twelve- month. They say they have put up with the building long enough, and are resolved to pull it down. 44 P.M Alas! they have changed their minds! They are smashing the police instead. The Foot Guards have been called out, and the DuKez or WELLINGTON sent for. 5 P.M. Several of the rioters have expressed their intention of going home to tea. 6h. 15m. P.M. Fourteen lamps have been smashed, and an express has arrived from | A. sley House with these remarkable words, “ Up, Guards, and at ’em!” I mon however, that the soldiers are wavering. | | HERE ’S THE POLICE. 7 P.M. Punch and the People are lost! Tue Foor Guards HAVE FRA- TERNISED! 73 P.M. No they haven’t! The mistake occurred in consequence of a general (postman) in uniform tumbling over a chimney-sweep, and in the dusk } owe were mistaken for a fusilier and a patriot embracing. The raed is, however, beating in Castle Street. The people have carried off the Nelson column. [Here our correspondent’s account breaks off. He was taken into custody about ten, for refusing to “ Move” on.) THE REAL OBJECT OF TIE REVOLUTION IN TRAFALGAR SQUARE. The English Agitator. On Wednesday a public meeting of the “‘ Zarly Closing Association” was advertised for eight o’clock. The meeting, however, was antici- pated long before by a largemob of boys and blackguards, rushing down Fleet-street and Cheapside, when almost every shopkeeper carried out the object of the above Society by putting up his atin as early as two o'clock. We imagine that Mr. Cocorane may compliment himself upon being the great promoter and Chairman of this new “Karly Closing” movement. If he were allowed his way, business would probably close still earlier ; for the chances are, that the shops would have to shut up the very moment they opened. We wish some humane philanthropist would start an Association for the Early Shut- ay Pe Mr. Cocurane. It would be the most numerous Association in London. NOTICE. _ Ie the individual calling himself Jom Situ, who left a wig at the Cordon Bleu Inn, at Tréport in France, does not reclaim his property, the same will be sold to pay expenses. “THR PIIOT” THAT DIDN'T WEATHER THE STORM. CHEAP TAX-GATHERING; OR, WORK FOR THE WEALTHY. Ir appears from a recently published statement, that for the year | ending on the 5th of January, 1847, the amount deducted from the gross receipts of the revenue, chiefly on account of the expense of | collecting it, was no less than £5,904,690 17s. 4d. We knew that an immense sum of money passes through the tax-gatherers’ hands; but we had no idea that so much of it stuck to their fingers. An outlay, hard upon six millions sterling, and much harder upon the millions forming the population, is incurred in merely getting in the taxes! | Why, all this cash would set us up for ever in a standing army, which might constantly keep off invaders at the point of the bayonet, and, if | necessary, |) the taxes—especially the Income-Tax—in the same | manner. At least some of the money ought to find its way into the | Exchequer. | We are happy in being able to propose a plan for the cheaper collec- tion of the revenue. It is but fair that those who have a stake in the country should take the trouble of preserving it. A stake in the country is property in the country ; now, we suggest that all unemployed gentle- men of property should be liable to serve as tax-gatherers gratuitously. | It is thus that an individual who has a stake in his parish is obliged to act as churchwarden or overseer ; and what is a parish but a nation in little? If Aristocracy has its rights, it has also its duties; let the latter | be extended so as to include those of collector, tide-waiter, and excise- man. Dignify these offices with becoming titles, as Lord High | Assessor, or Grand Gauger, with the addition of Right Honourable or | Most Noble. Let those who are to fill them have the option of | appointing deputies, just as the High Sheriff delegates his functions to | Jack Ketcu. What is there so absurd in this proposition to employ | the idle, when men of business are summoned from their desks and | counters—not to mention their hearths and homes—for the purpose of officiating as jurymen? It is at least fair that tax-eaters should do thus | much towards getting their own bread. A Whipping Well-Merited. | THE Times says, that during the late Cocwrane riots, the coal- | whippers, mustering 2000 strong, sent a deputation to the Home | Secretary with an offer of their assistance in preserving the public | peace. As the rioters consisted mainly of a set of blackguard boys, the | coalwhippers would have been just the persons to deal with them, by performing that operation which they practise on coals—viz., whipping —on the backs of these mischievous young vagabonds. ——. -— | —= fr oOodreiono Sf wadaeaeeo Devs od of a ea lee ee Oe ee et OOS Oe

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 117 + wl ’ '’Rere oO. aR 7 = wees YY = eS aS SS) «(CUD THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF MR. CHAPTER THE SEVENTH. MR. BRIEFLESS TAKES PART OF A SET OF CHAMBERS. Berne now launched on the professional sea—a sea that was dread- fully motion-less at my first outset—I resolved (if I may be allowed a had, had nautical simile) on nailing my wig to the mast, and scudding away under | of the chambers — bea as my gown was composed of. I should observe,'as the subject wou as much black stuff C by the way, that the purchase of a wig requires con- siderable judgment, for there are various qualities of forensic horsehair, from the chump end of the tail of the omnibus hack, to the silken mane of the thorough- bred racer. The eye of the keen observer will soon detect the difference if he goes into a Court of Law or Equity, for he will be sure to see some of the gentle- men of the bar wigged in a material exquisitely fine, while others will wear on their heads stuff that you might swear had been fresh plundered from the over- driven animal on the adjacent cab-stand. I disdained the ropy coiffure, and selected the superior article, having been assured by the artisan that the better sort of wig would be worth an extra guinea as stuffing for an easy chair whenever I might be disposed to retire from the profession. My next care was to secure chambers, where I might make known to an expectant world the interest- ing fact of my advocacy being in the market, by having my name inscribed, in letters of appropriate length, on some door and door-post. My friends had recom- mended, and my purse—which never stood my friend to any amount worth speaking of—echoed the advice, that I should take chambers in conjunction with some other barrister. I repaired to the hair-dresser’s in the Temple, and commenced the perusal of all those notices which make his window almost as amusing as the advertising columns of a newspaper. I read how chambers were to be had in entire sets, demi-sets, and demi-semi-sets, with undivided moieties of clerks, and occasionally “ the use of a cat,” or “half a laundress.” I was soon tempted by a notification that a gentleman who had “no use for the whole of his chambers,’’— or, indeed, for anything at all, as I subsequently found out—“ was willing to share the accommodation” with any one who was disposed to pay for the right to participate. Having carefully copied the address, I hastened to the advertiser’s abode, and found in it a gentleman without a coat, and without a waistcoat; but by way of making up for the deficiency, he wore a pair of very massive spectacles. The room was redolent of tobacco; but, supposing that my intended landlord might have a great cigar case among the other cases in his chambers, I took little note of the scent; and, recol- lecting that “the rose by any other name would smell as sweet,” I fancied that the reverse of the maxim would hold good, and that the business might be vary flourishing, though the chambers were in bad odour. _ I bargained for the comerion of a small cabinet, intending to remain there till I had time to turn myself round, though really there was scarcely space for such a pirouette, I was informed that the use of the clerk’s room would be common to both myself and my in- tended landlord. On looking at the “room” I found it to consist of a small cupboard, half blocked up by a kitchen dresser, which I presume was intended for the clerk’s desk; and a couple of hundred of coals occupying the other half of the apartment, must have formed the stool for the clerk to sit down upon. As the enjoyment of this room, though mutual, was to be by deputy, I did not demur to the accommo- dation, for I supposed my landlord knew more than I did of the arrangements necessary for keeping a clerk which seemed to be about on a 4 with those required for keeping a cat, or any other domestic animal. _ We rapidly came to terms, and my name figured in due time on the outer door and at the bottom of the staircase. As my occupancy was destined to be short, [ shall be very brief in my remarks upon it ; BRIEFLESS. expected. MR. JOHN BULL AFTER AN ATTACK OF INCOME-TAX. chambers were declared to be ina state of siege, and the outer door being closely shut, I had three glorious months of the barricade at my first entrance into my profession, As it was impossible to cul- tivate a connection poy a key-hole, or give opinions in a series of parleys, for which the c i able medium, I did not find my clients flock to me as rapid The clerk, I found, was altogether an imaginary bei my landlord excused the absence of this officer, by saying the last he run away and robbed him of everything. I thought the state ink in the letter-box was the only _e y as ing; but antee for the honesty of the next ; but id probably be a sore one, I allowed it to drop, during the three months of my professional blockade, at the end of which period I was glad to escape from my most uncomfortable tenancy. A MEDICAL MAIDEN. Aw American contemporary states that a young 1ady —a Miss BLacKWELL—is now attending as a student at one of the medical lecture-rooms at Boston. Her age is 26—for she has the sense to tell it, as well as to study medicine. She sits down at the class, and takes off her bonnet, thereby displaying considerable personal attractions ; and her presence has the remark- able effect of producing decorum in an assembly of medical students. We admire Miss BLackwELt, though we have never seen her. She is qualifying herself for that very important duty of a good wife— tending a husband in sickness. She is acquiring what to ladies would be very useful information—a knowledge of the distinction between real and fanciful ailments : also, of the consequences of want of exercise, damp feet, and tight lacing. As a mother, she will have learned better than to dose her children with Darry and Dausy, or to take her monthly nurse’s advice instead of the doctor’s. America is certainly going a-head of us in respect of the medical profession, for in that country it contains at least one young lady; which is better than, as in England, including many old women. LIVERY OF SEISIN. Wuen it was understood, a fortnight or so back, that Mons. Guizor had escaped from Paris in the disguise of a servant, there was not a flunkey in livery who arrived at any one of the English ports, who was not waited upon by the landlord with peculiar respect, and who did not receive most cordi oor rom all the tradesmen of the neighbourhood. We under- stand that several footmen, taking advantage of the mistake, availed themselves largely of loans placed at their service by the noodles in the provinces; and there is still an unprincipled scamp going about Margate in a magnificent suit of livery, borrowing money in all directions as the Ex-Premier of France, upon the strength of his velveteen smalls, and a tre- mendous aiguilette made out of a bell-rope pulled down from the coffee-room of the Sow and Sauce- boat, from which he decamped, quitting the family in whose service he was, for the prospect open to him in assuming the character of Guizor. CHACUN A SON GOUT. An advertisement we have read in all the papers, informs us of an invention, called “ Dr. Radcliffe’s medi- cated pad for the gout.” We presume that the article alluded to, must be a medicated footpad—a phenomenon with which we should like an interview. The Great Unburdened. I be content to dwell on such a subject, for to say the truth, it | in-trade, the was by no means inviting as a dwelling-place. landlord was so beset by duns from morning till night, that the I found that my | legacy dutyatall. The landlords made the laws. burdens upon the landed interest, that of a conscience is not one of them. GREAT complaints some time ago were made re- specting the burdens on the landed interest; but we have heard little about them lately. The less that is said on this subject the better. hilst a tradesman’s nor could | widow pays a probate tax of £30 on £1000 worth of her husband’s stock- eir to £100,000 worth of freehold property has to pay no Wheteoer aie the

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PUNCH, THE MODEL M.P. He lodges in Parliament Street, but has his letters addressed to the Garrick, or Reform Club. He enters the House invariably before prayers, and only leaves it with the Speaker. He never misses a Wednesday. He even attends on a CHISHOLM- Anstey night, or when the Danish claims are brought forward. He is a very great man at the hustings, making the most lavish threats to amend the Constitution and stop the supplies; but somehow, when he gets into the House he sinks into one of those Hon. Members whose voice is always inaudible in the gallery. He rises occa- sionally, but sits down directly if any other Member rises with him. He is not very ambi- tious, seldom going beyond a “laugh.” His favourite flight is to count out the House on a Derby day. He has not a large conscience. He votes unremittingly with Ministers, and has his reward in a gracious bow from Lorp Joun, and occasionally an invitation to dinner, when he is quite proud to see his name in print, and dis- patches innumerable copies of the paper to his constituents. Ile has a profound veneration for the British Lion, and loves to display his classical knowledge by applauding every little bit of Latin and Greek. He is deeply skilled in the Parliamentary gamut, which he can run up and down with the zoological flexibility of a Von Jort, from a crow in © major toadonkey in Dalt. He is an easy victim for a ; Committee, and takes a pride in attending the deputations of the Commons before the Lords. He is a stern upholder of the etiquette | of the House, and is fond of summoning innocent printers before the bar, or of incarcerating Irish Members in coal-holes, for contempt. He executes the little errands of his party, and on an emergency acts | as whipper-in. He sups regularly at Be.tuamy’s, where his profound knowledge of chops and steaks is highly respected, and his calls for ** lemon peel” instantly attended to. The clerks and door-keepers look up to him asaclock, and put on their great-coats and comforters immediately they see him come out. In private life, the model M.P. attends public meetings, and seconds all sorts of charitable resolutions for the Blacks, and philanthropic expe- ditions up the Niger. He bas been known even to take the chair at a benevolent dinner, when the Duke or CamprinGE has been absent by indisposition. He subscribes liberally to hospitals, to all charities, mock | and real, to every new testimonial, and is too happy to forward any | absurd plan with the full strength of his two initials. He reads every newspaper, and dies in the possession of his seat, very obscure, but universally regretted by the party who has had his vote for the last fifty years. PUNCH’S MAXIMS MORALISED. IX.—A quiet tongue shows a wise head. This is sheer nonsense. We might as well say an ineffective clapper shows a good bell, or the absence of a bellows shows an excellent organ. A quiet tongue only shows a wise head when the tongue has only folly to utter; but if the proverb were a true one, the gentleman who found it impossible to address the monosyllable “ Bo” to the celebrated goose, must have been the Soxon of his era. X.—As the old cock crows the young cock learns. We hope this may prove true in the case of the Gallic Cock, for the old one has been crowing a great deal lately, and the young one has much to learn for its future benefit. XI—A tree ts known by its fruit. This can scarcely apply to the boot-tree, which has no fruit at all, except perhaps a-corn. XIT.—A willing mind makes a light foot. | _ Ifa willing mind makes a person light-footed, we should be glad to | know what would make him light-fingered ? XTIT —Business is the salt of life. Very true; and too much of the salt brings on the thirst for gain, in | a very dangerous excess. The author of the proverb might have added, that failure is the vinegar, difficulties are the pepper, and looking for money to meet a bill the mustard. XIV —Care killed a cat. It must have been a very feelin(e) animal. XV.—Confession of a fault makes half amends for it. If we admit this to be true, confessing a fault twice over would repair R THE LONDON CHARIVARI. it altogether. The same principle might be applied to a debt, and it would then appear that two cognovits would settle one liability. XVI.— Conscience is the Chamber of Justice. Justice, however, like many other folks, is very apt to write on the | door of its chambers, “Gone out—Return in an hour.” XV II.—Cut your coat according to your cloth. Very good advice, no doubt; but if you have no cloth, you must cut your coat altogether. A REAL SUBSTITUTE FOR THE INCOME-TAX. To find an efficient substitute for the Income-Tax, Ministers are at their wits’ end; which, perhaps, is the reason why the debate on the Budget has been so dull. We have resolved ourselves into a Committee on the Government’s Ways and Means, and we think we can greatly improve the former, and add considerably to the latter. We believe we can point out an honest mode of maintaining the national revenue— and consequently a plan for dispensing with the Income-Tax. Our project is altogether one of indirect taxation, In the first place, we propose a tax upon opera-boxes, the rent of which varies from £200 to £50 per annum. Those who can afford to pay all this money for—so to speak—a mere song, must be rolling in an ocean of such boundless wealth, that they would hardly be able to feel the most copious abstrac- tion from it. ; ¥ In the next place, we would establish turnpikes at either extremity— the Tyburn and Piccadi!ly—of the Ring in Hyde Park, leaving merely the line of communication between the two thoroughfares free. Also a turnpike at each end of Rotten Row. We would fix the tolls at aristocratic rates, as half-a-guinea for a brougham or other one-wheeled carriage, and for other carriages five shillings additional on every wheel ; a crown, also, for each horse, mule, or ass—for we rather think donkeys are not excluded from the Park. On all sums of money won by betting on horse-races, we would | impose a tax of fifty per cent.; since money that lightly comes lightly | goes, and may as well go into the Exchequer as anywhere else. We would have all members of the turf served with a schedule, on which | they shall be required to state the amount of their winnings, on that |honour which has ever been so bright a characteristic of the Stable | Mind. We dare say that many other schemes for raising the public wind will oceur to us; and as fast as they do, we shall publish them for the enlightenment of Downing Street. Like the foregoing, they will all be based on the principle of taxing luxury, extravagance, ostentation, and idleness, instead of poverty, frugality, providence, and industry. ‘These and the foregoing devices, however, we intend merely as substitutes for the present Income-'l'ax, and not for one founded on simple arith- metic and common justice. Illustrations of Low Art. Pictures,” it has been said, “are the books of the ignorant.” Our pictorial contemporaries, by their illustrations of the late revolutionary | scenes at Paris, have given the ignorant some very pretty lessons, the jinfluence of which has been abundantly manifest in the recent pro- ceedings of the metropolitan rabble. REASONS FOR RETIREMENT. _Mavy reasons are assigned for the obstinate refusal of the Comtz DE NEvILLY to appear in public. The probability is, that Louis-Puiipre keeps close until his whiskers are grown.

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e ie )- | and a great bar is placed at the end of the street, | | | | | | PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL 119 “| There is a corner house not very far from the commencement of the TRAVELS IN LONDON. A ROUNDABOUT RIDE. —— ounG Heneist having | kindly offered to lend | me a pony, I went out = J for a ride with him this ; morning; and, now mercifully restored to my arm-chair at home, 1 write down, with a rapid and faithful pen, the events of the day. Henaist lives in the Tyburn district, that great rival, and some- time, as ’twas thought, conqueror of Belgravia, where squares, cathe- drals, terraces, spring up ina night, were : where, a you wandered ake ay, ' you saw a green strip of meadow, with a being | bee it | washerwoman’s cottage | and a tea-garden; and to-day you look up, and lo! you see a portly | row of whitey-brown bow-windowed houses, with plate-glass windows, | through the clear panes of which you may see bald- headed, com- fortable old fogies reading the Morning Herald. Butlers loll at the | doors—(by the way, the ‘Tyburnian footmen are by no means so large or | so powdery as the ‘May fair and Belgravian gentry)—the road is always freshly laid down with sharp large flintstones. Missis’s neat little brougham with two bay horses, and the page by the coachman’s side, | is creaking over the flmts. The apothecary is driving here and there in a gig; ‘the broad flag-stones are dotted about with a good number of tartan jackets and hats, inclosing wholesome-looking little children. | A bran-new fishmonger’s shop is "just open, with great large white- bellied turbots, looking very cool and helpless on the marble slabs. A genteel stucco-faced public-house is run up for the accommodation of the grooms, and the domestics, and the hodmen of the neighbourhood ; beyond which is a chaos of bricks, wheelbarrows, mounds of chalk with milky-looking pools beside them, seaffoldings and brown skeletons of houses, through which the daylight shines, ‘and you can see patches of green land beyond, which are to be swallowed up presenily by the great devour- ing City. This snesien, my dear friends, is what Baker Street was in the days of our youth, 1 make no doubt that some of the best and stupidest dinners in London are given hereabouts; dinners where you meet a Baronet, a Knight, and a snuffy little old General ; ; and where the master of the house, the big bald man, leads Lapy Barbara Macraw down stairs, the Kar of STRATHBUNGO’S daughter, and godmother to his seventh child. A little more furniture would make | the rooms look more com- fortable; but they are very handsome as it is. The silver dish-covers are splendaceous. { wish the butler would put a little more wine into the glasses, and come round rather oftener, Youare the only poor man in the room. ‘Those awful grave fellows give each other dinners round. ‘Their daughters come sole manly i in the evening. ‘The young fellow of the house has been at Oxford, and smokes cigars, but not in the house, and dines a good deal out at his club. I don’t wonder: I once dined with young Henaisr at his father’s, Mason Generar Str Hercures Hencist, \.C.B., and of all the but hospitality forbids me to reveal the secrets of the mahogany. Having partaken there of aslight refreshu vee of a sponge-cake froma former dessert (and a more yretentious, stuck up, tasteless, seedy cake, than a sponge-cake, I don’t know), and a glass of wine, we mounted our horses and rode out ona great exploring journey. We had heard of Bethnal Green and Spitalfields; we wished to see those regions; and we rode forth then like two cavaliers out of Mr. James’s novels—the one was young, with curly chestnut ringlets, and a blonde moustache just shading his upper lip, &e.—We rode forth out of Tyburnia and down the long row of terraces to which two Universities have given their names. At the end of Oxford Terrace, the Edgware Road cuts rz ie in, and the genteel district is over. It expires at that barrier of twopenny omribuses: we are nearly cut in two by one of those disgusting vehicles, as we pass rapidly through the odious cordon. We now behold a dreary district, of mud, and houses on either side, that have a decayed and slatte: nly look, as if they had become insolvent, and subsequently taken to drinking and evil courses in their old age. New Road, which is such a picture of broken-windowed bankruptcy as is only to be seen when a house is in Chancery or in Ireland. P think the very ghosts must be mildewed that haunt that most desolate spot. As they rode on, the two cavaliers peeped over the board of the tea- garden at the Yorkshire Jingo. The pillars of the damp arbours and the legs of the tables were reflected in the mu In sooth ’tis a dismal quarter. What are those whitey-brown small houses with black gardens fronting, and cards of lodgings wafered into the ricketty bow-w indows? Would not the very idea that you have to pass over that damp and reeking strip of ground prevent any man from taking those hopeless apartments? Look at the shabby children paddling through the slush: and lo! the red-haired maid-of-all-work, coming out with yesterday’s paper and her mistress’s beer jug in her hand, through the creaking title garden door, on which the name of ‘Susi ” is written on a dirty brass plate. Who is Sutsn? Why do | want to know that he lives there? Ha! there is the Lying-in Hospital, which always looks so comfortable that we feel as if we should like to be in an interesiing—fiddlestick! Here Milksop Terrace. It looks like a dowager. It has seen better days, but it holds its head up still, and has nothing to do with Mary-le-bone workhouse, opposite, that looks as cheerful as a cheese- -paring. We rise in respectability: we come upon tall brown houses, and can look up long vistas of brick. Off with your hat. That is Baker STREET; jolly little Upper Baker Street stretches away Regent’s Park- ward; we pass by Glum Street, Great Gaunt Street, Upper. Hatchment Street; ‘lressel Place, and Pall Street, dark, tragic, and respectable abodes of worthy people. ‘Their names should be printed in a black book instead of a red book, however. I think they must have been built by an architect and undertaker. How the omnibuses cut through the mud City-wards, and the rapid cabs with canvass-backed trunks on the top, rush towards the Great Western Railway. Yonder it lies, beyond the odious line of two- penny *busses. See, we are at Park Crescent. Portland Place is like a Pyramid, and has resisted time. It still looks as if Aldermen lived there, and very beneficed clergymen came to them to dine. ‘The footmen are generally fat in Portland Place, I have remarked; fat and in red plush breeches —different from the Belgravian gents: from the Tyburnian. Every quarter bas its own expression of plush, as flowers bloom differently in different climates. Chariots with lozenges on the panels, and elderly ladies inside, are driving through the iron gates to take the cheerful round of Regent’ s Park. When all Nature smiles and the skies are intolerab ly bright and blue, the Regency Park seems to me to have this advantage, that a cooling and agreeable mist always lies over it, and keeps off the glare. Do people still continue to go to the Diorama? It is an entertain- ment congenial to the respectability of the neighbourhood. 1 know nothing more charming than to sit in a black®room there, silent and frighte ned, and with a “dim sense that you are turning round; and then to see the view of the Church of Saint Rawhead by moonlight, while a distant barrel-organ plays the dead march in Saul almost inau dibly. Yoicks! We have passed the long defile of Albany Street ; we cross the road of Tottenham—on either side of us the che erful factories with ready-made tombstones and funereal urns; or great zine slipper-baths and chimney-pots that look like the helmets of the Castile of Otranto Extre mely small cigar-shops, and dentists; one or two bug-de stroyers, and collee-shops that look by no means inviting, are remarked by self and Hrnaist as our rapid steeds gallop swiltly onwards—onwards through the Square of Kus'on—ouwards where the towers of Pancridge rise before us—r: upidly, rapidly. Ha! he is down—is he hurt ?—He is up again—it is a cab-horse on a-head, not one of ours. It is the wood-pavement. Let us turn aside and avoid the dangerous path. SPEC, AN O1 CiuAr es and Puit went up the hill, ln France, across the water, Cranes fell down, and broke ~ ils crown, And Putin came tumbling afte D COINCIDENCE, Suggestive Titlcs. We see amongst: the list of Books published, the two following, whicn almost look as if they had been pointed purposely at recent events :— ‘Th French without a Master,’ and “* Where to Stop.” The latter might be dedicated most happily to Monsteur Leprvu- Roun, for certainly if he is allowed to go on at his present mad rate, quite reckless of all rules, there will be no telling what will be the end of him, or France either. We ree ‘onmend that his sentence be “ to be wound up with a full sto p instantly.” Such a noisy organ as he is would be all the better for a good long stop! VOL, XIV, N

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. INTERNATIONAL TIT FOR TAT. A perutation of French valets, che/s-de-cuisine, bonnes, and other servants, to the amount of some thousands, employed by the British Aristocracy, has waited on Mr. Punch, and begged him to use his interest with the Provisional Government of France for the suppression of that country. The clients of Mr. Punch allude to the turning out of the English labourers, a proceeding which they regard in the light of an extremely ad example to their own employers. They are in great Net es PROSPECTUS OF A NEW CONSTITUTIONAL AND MONARCHICAL INSURANCE OFFICE. Ir must be obvious to all countries feeling an interest in the preser- vation of their Constitutions, and all ce anxious for the safety of their Crowns, that the present is a time of unusual hazard. It has been determined, therefore, to establish a Company with a guaranteed capital amounting to the MILLION, for the purpose of Insuring those Constitutions and Sovereigns willing to make small and reasonable sacrifices for the sake of obtaining security. The alarming increase of political incendiarism prevailing among the neighbouring States is no doubt occasioned by want of suffi- cient care on the part of those having an interest in the preservation of things as they were; and it is believed that, by a system based on fair and liberal principles, Crown property may be Insured against risks as perfectly as property of any other description. It is proposed, there- fore, to open an Office for the Insurance of Thrones; and the sum to be paid by way of premium will be in a fair proportion to the risk incurred; for, while some monarchies may be looked upon as secure, there are many that must inevitably be 4 as doubly and even trebly hazardous. The British Monarchy, for instance, which rests on the security of the MILLION, whose interest, it is to be hoped, will always be conscientiously pro- vided for, can be Insured upon very easy terms, provided none of the parties concerned do anything in violation of the equitable and liberal policy. A table of premiums will be shortly prepared, with a view to the various classes of risk that are in existence at the present time, from those constitutional sovereignties that may be Insured for the whole term, down to those absolute despotisms which the Company will not undertake to Insure for more than a single year, and at a very high premium. The fearful consequences of non-Insurance are shown in the case of Lovis-Puitirre, who, having omitted to avail himself of the liberal |the words of Byron, “yawns the sack, an of a very injudicious turn-out which has occurred among the workmen | alarm lest they should be sent about their business; especially as their places could be ypotely well filled by the fellow-country people of their masters and mistresses. ‘ Here,” pos | pathetically exclaim, in ; yonder rolls the sea;” namely the Channel, across which they would o pny sorry to be driven at the present moment. They implore their countrymen to suffer them to stay where they are, by desisting from conduct naturally calculated to provoke retaliation. \ Sam AX At yal policy that would have insured the French Throne during his own life at least, has not only been brought to ruin himself, but has set on fire the habitations of several of his neighbours. To prevent the spread of these destructive flames, nothing will be found effectual but the cele- | brated moral engines, of which there is a powerful ee always ready in this country, under the personal superintendence o may be familiarly called the Brarpwoop of the force alluded to. LA SUITE D'UNE REVOLUTION. Whatever may be the most remote consequences of the French Mr. Punch, who | Revolution, we have one of its immediate effects set forth in the following advertisement :— \ THALBERG, in consequence of the recent event on the Continent, itie purposes RESIDING in LONDON this season, Address Cramer, Beale, and Co., 201, Regent-street. The convulsion that has shaken all Europe, and sent Princes flying | in every direction, has had its influence on the pianoforte-player, whose name es in the announcement we have quoted. The downfall of royalty in France has driven Lovis-PHitirre from a French throne, and consolidated ToarperG—for the season—on a British music-stool. The THALBERG emigration will, of course, be looked upon as a momentous incident of the Revolution, and the French nation will wait anxiously for his restoration to the cabinet, the piccolo, or the semi- grand. The great questions, What will Austria do? How will Russia | act? and In what direction will Prussia proceed? have all been extin- guished at once, by the overwhelming interrogatory of ‘‘ What will be | the course taken by THALBERG, in consequence of the recent events?” | He clearly estimates his notes at a thumping value, and as far more important than any diplomatic notes that may be passing between foreign powers and the Provisional Government. THALBERG answers the inquiry in advance—before it is made—and, without pledging him- self to any political opinion on the “recent event,” he intimates that he shall reside in London “this season.” How much does this simple notification imply! THa.Berc, like Turers, will not commit himself either one way or the other, but is biding his time.

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 121 THE SNOB OF NEWHAVEN. Titi (27 7-2 PZ \ \ 4 \ \ i} \ ‘ a a aa 7” a Lipzi, dui ) al 1s, = a Discust or Mr, Saitu, on piscoverinc THaT Lovuis-Pu1L1PpPE NAD NO MONEY. GRAND NATIONAL FANCY FAIR. Since our deficient revenue proves that we are nationally hard up, why not, we ask in the face of our country, resort, for the relief of our general distress, to the expedient of a National Fancy Fair ? Let the Fair be held in Hyde Park. Let the articles of merchandise consist of home produce,—of things which foreigners are unable to obtain in their own countries; so that our profits may be derived from the pockets of our neighbours—not however against their will. Let the Fair take place under the patronage of our most gracious Sovereign who shall depute the Mistress of the Robes to preside at the Royal Stall. As wares to be disposed of at the booth of Masesty, we may suggest a stock of models of the British Constitution, which just now would find a ready sale in Lombardy and the Italian States. The First Lady of the Admiralty will perhaps oblige her country by taking charge of a stall for marine stores, and other appurtenances employed by Brirannra for the purpose of ruling the waves. Some noble Duchess—assisted by a gentleman at Paddington—will, peradventure, undertake the sale of the British bull-dog. No doubt, many a lady of corresponding rank will be only too happy to adorn a horse bazaar, and grace with her patronage a mart for the English racer. The Lapy Mayorgss, probably, will not object to superintend a refreshment-stall ; the viands to include, of course, the well-known civic luxury of turtle, but their grand feature to be that exclusively English delicacy, plum-pudding. Lastly, our own Lady Judy will join the rest of the aristocracy in iving the benefit of her influence and pou attractions to an office or the sale of this our popular periodical ; the proceeds of which alone, we are amply satisfied, will be sufficient to extricate us out of all our ifficulties, and leave a handsome residue towards the payment of the National Debt. A Strange Spell. Tue French Academy will have to revise their famous Dictionary, for since February there has been a terrible revolution amongst its words. For instance, could one of the forty Jmmortels have ever imagined (unless he had been favoured with a particular spell) that République would begin with an E mute (émeute) ? War and Letters. _ Te speech of Mr. Cospen on the Income-Tax convinces us that, in a very little time, Letters will be too strong for War, binding glory over to keep the peace. And these Letters are, in this case, certainly Belles Lettres, though only three in number. Nevertheless, they are the strongest in the alphabet, binding all men. Here are the final masters of the Horse Guards and the Admiralty :—£. s. d. WHAT CAN BE DONE WITH IRELAND ? Or all questions this is the most difficult to answer. We have sent it to the Editor of Bell’s Life, and every sporting paper, but have received no satisfactory reply. Several plans have been proposed. Some have recommended the Cold Water Cure; others, an Earth- quake ; and one or two bold persons have hinted at its being presented a free gift (if such a donation can be called a gift) to JoINVILLE, or Lovuts-Puiuirre, or its being sold for what it would fetch, to the Emperor or Russta. None of these plans, however, have been tried, or at all events have succeeded. The place is as incurable as ever. O! that a second St. Patrick would rise and drive all the vermin out of the country! Ireland is not only England’s difficulty, but also her own. Her serpents and snakes in the grass make it impossible for any one who is not fond of continual hissing and stinging, to live in such a place. Now we propose, for the benefit of Ireland, that a plan of emigra- tion be tried on the most extensive scale. If some of the inhabitants could only be removed, we are sure the country would flourish. ciliation Hall might be shipped to Botany Bay, and Young Ireland be exported in a tom to the Hétel de Ville. Premiums should be offered to every Agitator, corresponding with the amount of mischief he is likely to do, to induce the race of MraGuers and Mitcnetis to prove their real love to Ireland by leaving it. We hope Government will appreciate our hint by instantly starting a General Irish Emigration Society. Ireland looks upon England as her natural enemy. We beg to say she is no one’s enemy but her own. The sooner that enmity is buried, the better for her, and the pleasanter or us, lo OLD HEADS ON NEW SHOULDERS. Tue late Revolution in France has not only turned the heads of the Parisian populace, but it has turned the heads of some eminent men at home in avery extraordinary manner. Lorp BrouGHam’s head is turned into that of M. Araco; Lorp Jony’s head is doing duty for M. Emite DE GiraRDIN ; the Duke oF WELLINGTON, with his nose slightly abridged, is published as Mar- sHAL BuGgEavup, and all the old likenesses of Prince LEOPOLD are coming up as NEMOURSES, Monrrensiers, and others, in large abundance. The fact is, that the enterprising proprietors of some of our illustrated papers have got a large collection of good intellectual-looking heads of English growth; and, as there is not much use for these heads at home at the present moment, they are brought out from the box of woodcuts, and placed upon the shoulders of those French politicians whose names are just now in the mouth of every one. M. ARAGO, M. baa EMILE DE GIKARDIN, MARSHAL BUGEAUD, In some few cases au attempt has been made to give an air of novelty to an old portrait, in fitting it to the new subject, but in other instances there is no attempt at disguise; and we have actually seen an ancient woodcut of Horace Vernet figuring as M. pE LamarrtIng, without even the shaving off of the moustachios, an operation which, strangely enough, would have prevented the imposition from being quite so bare- faced as it is at present. SPECIAL CONSTABLES, So many folks are so hungry to be sworn in, that they must evidently mistake the staff of the constable for the staff of life. Con- | | | |

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| whose door the transparency is exhibited. | in the delusion that a knocker of extraordinary dimensions, ; and imagining that the public can be misled by such a FALLACIES OF THE FACULTY. A work with this title has passed through many editions; but we think another might still be brought out, containing some addi. tional Fallacies to which the Faculty are liable. One of the greatest Fallacies on the part of PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL. the Faculty that has come under our observation, is the illumi- nated bottle or night-lamp, which throws a streak of green, blue, red, or yellow, along an entire street, and is fallaciously supposed by the Faculty to create that change of complexion in a passer by, that would urge him to rush in for medical advice to the doctor at Another enormous Fallacy of the Faculty is the old su- perstition of dressing up a charity boy in a page’s livery, shallow expedient. Another Fallacy of the Faculty consists and a capacious brass plate, are a connection of themselves, ; or that a knocker violently agitated : will impress the surrounding neigh- bourhood with an idea of the great —— =a ability and large connection of the | : practitioner. We know a certain pure—a regular Simon PurE—who pays a halfpenny for every run-away knock contributed to his door, and, as he supposes, to his reputation, by a local young scamp who sends in his account once a week for this mischievous disturbance of the peace of the neishbourhood. The last, and perhaps the worst Fallacy of the Faculty, is that which is founded on the belief that the poor are not up to the dodge of ** Advice Gratis,” which generally recommends the purchase of a pill and a draught from the benevolent practitioner. on MEaQA wD © Oa 5: 2 li \¢ SAY ) in 4 b=! . \ { 2 ~~ q | v4 A va = q he | WL Ey ye Se THE KENNINGTON COMMON REVOLUTION. | Every one recollects the memorable Monday after the Battle of Trafalgar Square, when the Cochranites were to make another demon- stration at Kennington Common, and have indulged in their love of (small) change, by picking pockets of loose silver, or anything else they could lay their hands upon. Thanks to the determination of the special constables, who had shown their intention to stand no non- | sense, order reigned throughout the metropolis; and the elements indulged in a short rain, but a merry one, for the purpose of cooling down superfluous ardour, and removing superfluous dirt among the ranks of the would-be revolutionists. The whole affair cannot better be described, than by a paraphrase of “ ALEXANDER’S Feast ;” and, who so well suited as an imitator of Drypen, to chronicle the achievements of the mob, who were rendered wet-uns (pardon us) on the day to which we allude :— *T was on the Common of famed Kennington, Reyno.ps (old ReyNoups’ son), Aloft in mimic state, Upon a waggon sate— The driving-box his throne. The idle riff-raff stood around, Some of their brows—for recent fractures—bound (So theft and mischief should be crowned). The Chartist, .W1IttaMs, by his side, With envy his position eyed, As if for chairmanship he sighed. Precious, precious pair ! None but the brave, None but the brave Deserve the chair ! Young Reyno3ps, placed on high, Produces half a quire ; Of correspondence, which, without desire, He reads, in notes that reach the sky, And shouts of “ Hear!” inspire. Note one—bid Str Georce GREY, Before a certain day, Leave Ministerial sway, And send the reins of power, straight from his hand, To Mister REYNo.ps, somewhere in the Strand ; When he, of the said reins possessed, Would guide the State himself, in style the very best. The listening crowd admire the lofty sound ; * A plucky chap this here!” they shout around, And dabs of mud against the van rebound. With lengthened ears Young Reyno.ps hears, And thinks, with joy, “Yes, I’m the boy That means to shake the spheres!” Praise of the French he next in glowing accents sung— French Freedom—very fair, but very young. But a poor baker’s cart there comes ; With their fingers and their thumbs, The mob, to their disgrace, (Blush, every honest face ! Would fain have stole the bread—the crusts, the crumb Freedom, very, very young, Surely never did ordain Making bakers’ carts a treasure, Robbing their contents at pleasure— Pleasure to the owners’ pain. ! In sheer disgust, the very rain, Resolved such conduct to restrain, Came down as if to say—‘‘ You shan’t do that again.” Young Reyno.ps saw the vast supplies Of rain pour down before his eyes. While he the Government defied, Away he saw the Meeting glide. Ife chose a wilder strain To bring them back again. He spoke of France, so great and good ; Of Loutis-Puttipre’s fate, Fall’n, fall’n, fall’n, fall’n ; From his high estate, And flying with his brood. Deserted at his utmost need By those who on corruption feed, ‘ From his own realm in fear he flies, To England turns his anxious eyes. Still, in the rain, young Reynoxps boldly sate, Until there linger’d scarce a soul; The wet had clear’d the ground below, And down the van he gently stole Thinking—he’d better go. TAKE CARE OF YOUR POCKETS. A Conenress of all the German sovereigns is, it is said, about to be held at Dresden.

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 123 LORD NELSON TO PUNCH. -. UNCH has received, by the hands of the late boy !\ (he is now a grey-headed old man, bent double ! and sand-blind) who worked at the Nelson —~ Column, the following letter, written by the immortal Admiral. We believe the document to be genuine. ‘The character of the bearer is, in the first place, above all suspicion; and the left-hand character of the writing speaks, or rather, scratches for itself. “ Mast-Head, Nelson Column, March 15. *PuncH, “SHIVER my bronze, if I stand this any longer. My precious eyes! If I was only ins once more flesh and blood, I1’d be down upon ( deck, hand over hand,—and that they know; so they’ve stiffened me up here in gun-metal. Well, what next? For years and years have they perched me aloft here, asking public and private charity, and seldom getting it. In the first place, when am I to be finished ? “My precious eyes! Why didn’t they _ a bull-dog at the base of the Column with a hat in his mouth, and a board slung at his neck with —‘Pray, pity the Admiral!’ ‘It was bad enough when a Russian threw money at me, for what I call my base relief. “But that’s not what I’m going to write of now. No, Punch: it’s about this Mr. Cocurane (no relation somever, I hope, to the gallant chap of Basque Roads), who’s had Ais Trafalgar fight, when Field Lane expected every pickpocket to do his duty. And many on’em—blind as I am I could see ¢hat—did it. ; “ Mr. Cocurane, it seemed, skulked among the pumps, or in the bread-room, or in the after-hold, or somewhere snug,—while the policemen’s staffs were flying at the mast-heads of the mob. I call this—no; I won’t say what. But this I will say,—I do advise the chaps to call Cocurane to a court-martial for cowardice; and if he’s found guilty, to give him a round dozen of months or so in the Fleet. [The Admiral is ignorant of its demolition ; but, no doubt, will be equally satisfied with the Queen’s Bench.) . “They’ve been having, it seems, a rumpus in France. Well, I shan’t talk of Frenchmen now; folks say they’re a good deal better than in my time—I won’t say they arn’t ; but I will say, there was a good deal of room for ’em. But what does make my bronze blood boil is this,—to think that Englishmen should demean themselves, and take a pattern of a rowfrom France. Can’t they—if they must fight—can’t they get up a row out of their own head! 1’m ashamed of my countrymen. Must they even have rebellion, like caps and bonnets, from France? Can’t they, if they will have it—set the right earnest fashion themselves ? “They ’ve been throwing up, I hear, what they call Barricades—a sort of battery made easy—in Paris. This, 1 do confess it, gives me some hope. [I felt asort of horrid pleasure when the mob scrambled about me ; for I thought, to a certainty, they’d heave me up, and fling me across the square, fattening my mast-head and hull like a school- boy’s dump,—so that when the breeze was over they could do nothing but let me suffer dissolution in the melting-pot. But no: the mo hadn’t devil in em enough to do it. To be sure, men don’t get courage by picking pockets: ’tisn’t the same thing to take a Belcher-handker- chief or a three-decker. ; “ Well, there I stood, and saw a good deal of the fun, and only wished I could have got down among ’em. I didn’t mind the row much, but— as a loyal tar—I did feel for his Most Gracious Majesty, GeorcE THE Tousen, of ever-blessed memory, on his bronze horse to the starboard of me. “Just turning my truck a little, I could see his Majesty. What a pucke: he was in to be sure. Every hair of his royal wig stood _on end, like wires upon a wool- comber. His face went all askew, and his lip dropt at the low company about him, for all the world as when he washed the thoughts of marriage out of his mouth with a glass of brandy (as Lorp Matmes- BURY below has since joked him about); and he seemed to say to himself —over- hauling his thoughts—‘The nasty mob warn’t allowed to do these things in the days of Castiereacy.’? And then he looked ahead to the Horse Guards, as though every minute expecting the dragoons to gallop up, and fire upon ’em. “And still I was left mast-headed. I wasn’t made a barricade of. More’s the : ‘ pity. But, as a tar’s private wrongs have nothing to do with his — - QurEN—God bless her! she looks very nice when she goes to Par- liament—what I have to say is this— “Tf this Mr. Cocnrane ever throws out the false colour of liberty again, to bring a lot of fools and rogues together, to have their heads broke, let me—as an old sailor who knows what mutiny is— let me only advise this: Just—as Mr. C. is so very fond of Trafalgar Square (I wish he’d had half as much of it as 1 have)—just let the Government mast-head him here along with me. When he’s once up, if he comes down till I think he’s well served out, my name, Mr. Punch, isn’ t— ** NELSON AND Bronti.” *P.S., No.1. I don’t know what Sir Rosert Peer can think of his Trafalgar Square now—for it isn’t mine—I deny that. I do believe that it’s all along of the National Gallery that the mob came here. It’s such a low rubbishing thing, and makes people feel vulgar while they look at it. For one thing, however, in my affliction I am grateful, and make my acknowledgments with all the warmth of a true-hearted tar ; as I am to stand near the National Gallery, I’m grateful that they’ve put me with my back to it. “ P.8. No. 2. A poor old man that I have known from a boy, will bring you this. Give him a dollar to buy him a quid.” HURRY-SKURRY TAXATION. Tue CHANCELLOR of THE Excuequer tells us, in one of his recent clever speeches upon finance, that “when the hurry of business is over, he intends to turn his attention to the subject of the general revision of taxation.” This is exceedingly kind of our friend the Chancellor; but still, it strikes us that the best time for this revision would have been, not after the closing of Parliament, but rather before the opening of it. What should we think of Jonny, if, upon ringing for our hot water and boots in the morning, he were to tell us he would turn his attention to it when the hurry of the day’s business was over ? What would the Cuance.tor or THE ExcHEQuEr himself say if, upon his applying for his five or ten thousand, or whatever it may be a year, we were to say to him, “ You must excuse us: we will attend to it when the hurry of business is over?” and then postpone the subject for a year, or perhaps for ever. An actor would be dismissed if he were not perfect to the day in his part; an official assignee would be roughly handled if his accounts were put off for atwelvemonth; and we doubt if the plea of the “hurry of business” would avail either of them much. Besides, the duties of a CHANCELLOR OF THE Excrequer cannot be so very excessive, espe- ciallvina Whig Ministry. His greatest difficulty seems to be to create a deficiency ; and we all know from experience how easily a difliculty of that simple nature is surmounted every year. Hurry or no hurry, the result is always ‘the same; so whv make such a fuss about it! Sir Cnartes Woop is the first Chancellor we ever knew to be “in a hurry” - — taxation. We are only afraid that persons in a burry never o much. SONG OF THE ARRESTED ONT," My tailor has deceived me, and he’s broken every vow; He promised time, and credit too—Alas, he’s done me now! The heartless sneer, ‘‘Oh, pay him then,” they say ; but goodness! How? And peace has vanish’d from my soul, and pale insolvent brow. I cannot pay, my heart is full—I would my purse were so !— I’m steeped in gin-and-water, and undiluted woe. Where—where the fi-pun-note I borrow’d three long days ago ? Alas! I’ve but a guinea left—“ Zsto perpetuo !” A spunging-house—Oh, fatal go !—and is it come to this ? The beer-stained tables, and the dirt, proclaim it Rayther és. Oh! would I had the wings of doves, to flee and be at peace, Or any style of poultry that my weeping readers please ! COCHRANE ON WINDOW-BREAKING. ‘Tus gentleman heads a petition to Parliament against the abuse of window-breaking. Mr. Cocurane’s political reputation has drooped | so very much of late, that we are not surprised he should endeavour to | bring it up under glass. A VERY BACKWARD MAN. | Str Rozert, it is rumoured, is about to return to Office. The report originates solely in the fact that he has said lately he would not. We believe the report.

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124 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

Special Constable. “1 BEG YOUR PARDON, YouNG LADIES, BUT YOURS IS A VERY DANGEROUS [ROCESSION, AND WE MUST TAKE YOU IN CnaRGE—WE MUST, INDEED.” Punch’s FAarims HMMoralised. AVITT.—Delays are dangerous. His accounts for the proverbial perils of the Court of Chancery. There is, however, a sort of con- science in these delays ; for Chancery is reluctant, as it were, to ruin its victims too rapidly. XIX.—Deeds are fruits ; words are but leaves. = instance—which, if they are really fruits, must be stone fruits, for they are exceedingly unwhole- _ some. These same deeds are fruits m another sense, for they admit of very large pickings.

XX.— Deserve success, and you shall command it. There is something consolatory in the idea of being able to command success ; but it is one thing to command, and another to obtain obed.ence. Merit very frequently has its reward, though too often the reverse occurs ; and every one must allow that mere dessert is not always equivalent to a dinner. XXT.—Farly to bed, and early to rise, Makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise. If this proverb were literally true, the wisest and wealthiest men in England would be the sweeps, the bakers, and the market-gardeners. The earliest ramoseur, who is always “up”—the chimney—“ with the lark,” should be a compound of OLp Parr, Cresus, and Soxoy, if this saying could be thoroughly relied upon. XXIT.—Every man is the architect of his own fortune, This is true; but the architect must have the building materials to work with, or his architectural industry and skill would be wasted on castles in the air. It is on this account, probably, that the homely There are some deeds—those of lawyers, for |

<<——_——_— - —

saying of “ Go it like bricks!” is often addressed to a person willing to become the architect of his own fortune. XXUT.—Everything hath an end, and a pudding hath two. In this respect the county of Middlesex is superior to a pudding, inasmuch as, while the latter hath two ends, the former hath three ; namely, North End, Ponder’s End, and another called Snagg’s End, near the two-mile stone. The author of the proverb seems to have forgotten the celebrated Slory Without an End, by Mrs. Austin, XXIV.—Everything is good in its season.

We have seen some theatres in their season, without having anything | ood to boast of; and we never could relish a whelk, or think it good, cums it happened to be the season for such a commodity. Tousa whelk was never welcome. ————— ESSE Parallel Points. Tue Paris Revolution and the Trafalgar Square Ditto present two curious points of resemblance. We mean the rapid disappearance of two hoards. The first is the memorable hoard so long held up to universal infamy in our pages, and which acted as a poor screen to NELSON on his column of ridieale and the second is the immense hoard, or rather hoards, of money which Lovis-Puitipre was reported to have saved on the throne of France. Both hoards have disappeared “like the baseless fabric of a vision.” We only wish the Pillar, which is a very ugly vision, would go after them. The True and the Beautiful. Ir has been said wisely by a philosopher, whose name will be found in the Court Guide, “that if Joun Butt submits to the continuance of the unjust tax on Income, he will be aN-incom-poop in the fullest sense of the word.”

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a +. -— | aulNse - C OME TAX | | 2 LITTLE JOHN AND HIS GOVERNOR. 1} John Bull. “ Auways GRUMBLING, Srr!—Wuat DO you MEAN BY THAT? Haven’? 1 A RIGHT TO GRUMBLE? Wuy DON’T YOU | ASK SOME OF YOUR FINE Property FRIENDS TO COME DOWN WITH SOME Monegy? I say THIS LAST BILL IS NOT AT ALL FAIR TO | your Oxtp Governor, LET ME TELL You, SlR—YOU ARE GOING THE RIGHT WAY TO MAKE ME A BANKRUPT, AND TO RUIN A FINE | ConstITUTION.”

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 127 MR. SMITH AND MOSES. A VETERAN gent, just stepped out of a boat, In a tattered old hat and a ragged pea-coat, Appeared at a shop whither many folks run, And that was the palace of Moses anp Son. A respectable dame with the mariner went, Most likely the wife of this veteran gent, And the eyes of the pair were excited with won der on seeing the mansion of Moszs anv Son. “T ve look’d upon many a palace before, But splendour like this, love, I never yet sor !” This party exclaimed. “ What a great sum of mon- ey it sure must have cost Messrs. Moses anp Son!” In the language of France his good lady replied, “This house is well known through the universe wide ; And you, my dear Puittp, to seed having run, Had better refit with E. Mosrs anp Son.” E. Mosss stepped forth with a bow full of grace, Inviting the couple to enter his place : He thought they were poor—but the poor are not done, And the rich are not fleeced by E. Moses anv Son. “ What clothes can I serve you to-day, my good man?” E. Mosts exclaimed : “ You shall pay what you can ; The peer or the peasant, we suit every one ; Republicans true are E. Moss anv Son.” The pea-coated gent at that word made a start, And looked nervously round at the goods of our mart: “A vest, coat, and trowsers, as soon as they’re done, I want, s’i/ vous plait, Messteurs Moses anv Son. **T once was a king, like the monarch of Room, But was forced from my throne and came off in a Br——n ; And in such a great hurry from P—r—s I run, I forgot my portmanteau, dear Moses anp Son.” “Dear Sir,” we exclaimed, “ what a lucky escape !” So one brought the patterns, another the tape ; d while with our patterns his “ peepers” we stun, The gent is quick measured by Moszs anv Son. The clothes when complete we direct ina hurry— “—__ Surru, Esquire,at Prrnce Le0prorp’s, Claremont, in Surrey.” The cloth was first-rate, and the fit such a one As only is furnished by Mosrs anv Son. As he paces the valley or roams in the grove, All ery “ What a very respectable cove !” How changed in appearance from him who late run From Paris to refuge with Moss anp Son. Now who was this “veteran gent,” Sirs, E. Mosgs, Although he may “guess,” yet he never discloses. Do you wish to know more, gents ? if you do, why then run To Aldgate and ask of Moszgs ann Son. HAND-BILL BY THE HANGMAN. BY PERMISSION OF THE LEGISLATURE. MR. JOHN KETCH Has the honour to announce that, in consequence of the gross attempt of Mr. Ewart, in the House of Commons, to ruin his profession having failed, his SCIENTIFIC AND MORAL EXHIBITIONS will continue, for a limited period, to take place occasionally on the old- established boards in front of Newgate. Reserved seats may be had on application at the neighbouring gin-shops. Yelling, howling, screeching, quarrelling, fighting, picking pockets, oaths, and blasphemy as usual. Due Notice will be given of all Entertainments. N.B. The Patrons and Admirers of Mr. Ketcn are respectfully solicited to avail themselves of every remaining opportunity of wit- nessing his PERFORMANCES, as, in consequence of what is called Porvuar Ortnion, J. K. seriously apprehends that they must SaortLy TERMINATE. *.* TO COMMENCE AT 8 A.M. PRECISELY. Vivat Sir. R. HH. Iyeuts. [No Money Returned, CHICKEN FOR THE MILLION. Mr. Canteto seems born for the refutation of the proverb which forbids us to count our chickens before they are hatched. He professes to be able, by his system of artificial incubation, to produce seventy-five chickens, on an average, out of a hundred eggs. In a letter to the Morning Post, \\c declares, “I shall go on till I can produce poultry for the million.” He proceeds to give some startling statistics of the national deficiency in poultry, whereof he says, “ At present the supply is not half a fowl a year to every member of the community.” That is, a leg, a wing, a breast, and backbone, with the merry-thought, res- pectively to each. It would take,” according to Mr. Cantexo, “from twenty-five to thirty millions of money embarked in the business, to give every one a chicken once a month.” &. As the means are rather disproportionate to the end proposed, and thirty millions are hardly likely to be forthcoming just now, we have not much opinion of Mr. Canreto’s project, considered as a public undertaking. However, as a private speculation, we think highly of his scheme for producing cheap chickens. We really wish him every success; and if he can only provide us with poultry at a shilling the couple, we shall say that CanreLo has done more with his egg than Cor uMBUs. The Strangest Metamorphosis of 1848. Ovip does not contain a metamorphosis more wonderful than the | following :—The abolition of titles in France changing, in one day, all the noblemen into gentlemen. Some of our nobility must be envious that they were not Frenchmen; but probably the metamorphosis might not have succeeded so well. Of all characters, the English gentleman is the most difficult to assume, especially at an hour’s notice. However, there would be no harm in trying the experiment, just on a small scale. We wonder if the noble occupant of Blenheim would submit to the strange metamorphosis for one day? The public would gain by it, as the shillings for admission to Blenheim Palace would instantly be abolished ; for what gentleman, we ask, would allow his house to be shown for sixpences ? PROTECTION. Wuewn the Ducuess or ORLEANS presented herself to the Chamber of Deputies, they granted her Protection. Lorp Grorce BentINcK says he wishes the House of Commons would grant him as much.

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128 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. PUNCH AT THE CIRQUE NATIONAL. IRCUMSTANCES, and a cab, took us to Drury Lane Theatre a few evenings ago, where we found, the equestrian artistes from Paris, who are no doubt lad enough to be “from Paris,” in the present C tevuleing times, when a state of “ universal brotherhood ” seems likely to lead to “ universal botherhood,” if not to something worse. aye: We cannot help pitying poor old Drury in its numerous reverses; but really our om has lately been so_ much taxed, that the ei-devant temple of the British Drama is becoming almost — as great a bore as “a man with a grievance,” \ whose tales of ill-treatment we can no longer \) listen to. We have let loose the flood-gates of } our sorrow so often over the desecration of old Drury, that we have come a tear remaining to squeeze out upon the last in ignity put upon the former home of SHAKSPEARE ; and we have come to the philosophic determination that “what can’t - be cured must be endured.” If we were to weep = our eyes out, how faint would be the impression we could make on the sawdust now lying in the pit of Drury Lane; and were we to sigh ourselves away into half our present size, we could not “the former light restore” of the English National rama. We can therefore only plunge into the circle, with a clownish exclamation of “Here we are!” and take such amusement as the equestrian ¢roupe may offer us. We entered the house just as two gentlemen were lying on their backs, and balancing a couple of globes on their toes ; a process in which the two Frenchmen kicked the miniature world about as unceremoniously as their countrymen would seem inclined to kick about the great original. It was very amusing to see these two French gentlemen with the world at their feet, though we could not help thinking that a similar exhibition, if attempted in the great political arena by the Gallic nation at large, would not be a very pleasing spectacle. A M. Fetix next merited our approbation, for the graceful and easy way in which he rode backwards at full gallop—a feat, by the way, that is now being accomplished in a political sense, though not with a very successful result, by some of his compatriots. We pass over the Four Seasona, as well we may in these times, when we are living at the rate of the sports of the Roman youth, who scem to have taken delight in riding six horses at a stretch, and indeed at such a stretch, that we expect every now and then to see realised the old dramatic announcement of M. So and So “in two pieces.” But Mave. CaRouine’s is the triumph of equestrianism, Mounted on a charger, who, like the “old Jog” of the Nigger melody, 1s constantly ‘* Kicking up behind and before,” she keeps her seat as pertinaciously as M. Lepru-Rotzin would keep his seat at the council a y i Man table of the Provisional Government. Like him she overrides the spirit exerted for throwing her off, and like him, she turns towards the multitude, and makes a plunge as if she would stop at of a century a day, and come to the Roman Games, which give us anything but a lively idea| nothing. Like him she leaps over every barrier with an audacity quite surprising, but unlike him, she gains admiration and applause for her achievements, The Avriots, old and young, are among | the ¢roupe ; and though the English audi- ences try hard to fraternise with French humour, the fraternisation is an unhappy failure. The Parisian clowns to the ring accomplish the most admirable feats, which deserve and obtain the warmest applause; but the spoken fun falls as dead as Cocn- RANE’s attempt to revolutionise Charing Cross ae establish a dictatorship in the left-hand asin. We hope the French equestrians are making more from English liberality than | the British workmen in France are likely to get from French humanity, liberality, and justice. The keep of the horses will be the chief expense; and on the night of our visit, we counted at least two quarters of oats in the pit, a load of beans in the private-boxes, and a fair allowance of chaff in the galleries. Supposing any of the horses to be ill, we | think we might fairly calculate that there was | a warm mash a piece in the rush at half-price; | and, taking it for granted that extra exertion in some of the animals would call for extra | sustenance, we should say there were at least two extra feeds in the two proscenium boxes. | THE IRISH MEMBERS AND THE | INCOME-TAX. | TuE pursuit of Repeal has been long con- sidered a wild-goose chase; and Repeal itself, from the dissensions of the Old | and Young Irelanders, is esteemed by many as a “gone goose.” A sudden brightness, | however, has dawned on the prospects of the | Irish patriots, which have unexpectedly taken | to looking up. We do not allude to the | influence of the French Revolution, but to | that of a revolution which is commencing in | this country, and which has been originated by the Irish Members. These gentlemen, with an intrepidity—of face—for which we could hardly have given even them credit, have, with almost one accord, voted for the impo- sition of the Income-Tax on this country; whilst, with the same unanimity, they have opposed its extension to their own. By this gallant defiance of common decency and delicacy, they have excited an enthusiasm in the cause of Repeal, in the mind of every true Englishman. They have so plainly | proved their ability to take care of them- selves, that we are now -_ satisfied that | they should be allowed to do so. The English | nation owes them its thanks for the Income- | Tax ; and we cannot do better than leave them | to manage their own affairs, without—but let | them mark well this condition—any longer | troubling them with our slightest assistance. HOME AND FOREIGN POLICY. Tae French complain that their finances are suffering in consequence of the rich English residents having quitted Paris. Our neighbours now find that they made a mistake in expelling the English workmen. Those who would enjoy English capital must encourage English labour—a maxim which we intend not solely for exportation. THE EX-KING AT MADAME TUSSAUD'S. Tue Count or Nevrtty loves much this elegant place of entertainment. “‘ Ici je suis encor Cire,” he said yesterday, while examining his own figure in wax.

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PINCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 129 THE HAMADRYSAD OF THE BOULEVARDS. Tue axe and the saw of Liberty—she sometimes uses all weapons— | has been known, in her wrath and exigence, to wield even scythes and reaping-hooks; the axe and the saw have ijaid low the trees of Paris Boulevards. ‘True it is, they are—at least many of them—already replaced. But how? Saplings no thicker than civic wands stand in the places of large-girthed elms. The new comers—with fresh country cnsth still about their roots—seem modest, timid, as young country | virgins commonly are, for the first time brought to a great city to hear its noise, and be fluttered by its stare. : Even in these hard days of five-franc pieces, the Gods of Greece | exist. They are still immortal in the heart of man, albeit the heart sinks and rises with the low, quick pulse of the Stock Exchange. And Hamadryads still live in all the trees of the Boulevards ; though one race has fallen with the trees of February, another sisterhood will | flourish with the newly-planted. Another race that—sophisticated it ma, be by the fashions‘ of the Gaul, fashions coming in and going out wit spring, summer, and autumn dynasties of butterflies—will still endure and flourish, the guardian nymphs of green and growing timber, looking ' down from their conony of leaves, now upon a black moustache, and | now upon a rose-blush | wafted to us. onnet. The dying speech of a Hamadryad, of the 24th of February, has been As the axe struck at the trunk that enshrined her, she sighed forth her odorous breath, dying with sweet and solemn content, for—she knew it—she died to make a barricade ; she fell in the cause of Freedom. : ’ : . “For seventeen years,” said the dying ae, her green blood manning as she spoke,“ for seventeen years have I dwelt here. How bashful, | yet how happy I was when planted. My waist was no thicker thana cherry-tree bough; and I curtsied, simple and tender as I was, at every zephyr that approached me. Ha! those were lovely days. And when the spring came, my blood danced up and down, and I wore buds in my hair, and in summer leaves; and, with every week, their colour deepened and changed, and I was never, for twenty-four hours, behind the fashion of the season. “Beautiful days! There was hope, there was confidence in the looks and the voices of allmen. Young patriots, with moustache of raven, would sing the Marseillaise ; and at the name of the Citizen King men would embrace, and say to one another what LarayETre—poor simple heart—had said before, ‘ Louis-PHiL1prE was the Best of Republics.’ “ And year after year went on. And men taking tobacco and coffee beneath my branches—(I soon became hardened to the filthy weed; by the way, the great god Pan ever smoked)—men would mutter and whisper low, and clench their hands, and curses would gurgle to their lips, and hatred would cloud their eyes. “Conspiracy was linked hand in hand beneath my boughs. One da —what a day was that!—men fell dead about me. One moment holiday—the next, a line of flashing light from yonder window—a “TRAVELLERS TELL STRANGE TALES.” upGING from a letter which sapenped in the Examiner two Sundays back, there cannot be a doubt that the Travellers’ Club is in the most defence- less state. We are sure the mob—the Cochranites—will be too grateful for this generous information, though we hope the period will be far distant ere they act upon it. However, the intention of the writer is such a kind one, that we have put his letter in the form of an invitation, which does full justice, we hope, to his noble spirit of hospitality. If every Club followed his example, we should hear no more of so many thou- sands in the metropolis being in want of food, or without a piece of silver to bless themselves with. “The members of the Travellers’ Club present their compliments to Mr. Cocnrays and his friends, and hope that on the next occasion of their meeting in Trafalgar Square, they will, on the conclusion of their business, adjourn to the Club, where they will always find plenty of cold meat and a bottle of wine perfectly at their service. The old port is particularly recommended, and the doors of the Club are open at all hours, so that there is not the slightest inconvenience experienced in entering. The members of the Club hope that every allowance will be made for the infirmities of their household; and they cannot help regretting that their porter, who, from repeated attacks of rheu- matic gout, is unfortunately not so young as he was forty years ago, will scarcely be equal to the onerous task of receiving with due pro- priety and activity so large a party. Still, they trust that their friends will waive all ceremony, make themselves perfectly at home, help themselves to whatever they please, and kindly excuse any little defect they may find in the resources of the establishment. The orem are strictly forbidden to accept a gratuity under any pretence whatever. * Cockspur Street, March 12, 1848.” rattling as of big hail-stones—and killed and wounded lay in their ood. * And then men talked of the guillotine—how it had worked. Again the guillotine—again and still the guillotine. ‘And years went on, and men were louder in their hate; and one day, resolved to dare the old king—that Best of Republics—and dine. ‘The day passed, another and another—and— (Here the MS. is illegible.) “What! another barricade? Be it so: I die content. But where- fore? What! Would you dethrone the Best of Republics ? “ Well, you may get a better; you cannot get a worse. Strike the axe. Deep! Again.—Vive la Liberté !” And, adds an eye-witness, a beautiful elm lay at its length along. May no future Hamadryad be slaughtered for a future barricade ! TO SOVEREIGNS IN DIFFICULTIES. Nicnotas Romanorr begs to offer his services to Sovereigns in Diffi- culties. At the present alarming crisis, when so many royal dealers suffer from a derangement of their affairs, Nrcnoxas flatters himself that he may be found of considerable utility in bringing them to a happy issue. Nicnoas can proudly refer to Mr. Ferprnanp, of Vienna, as a gentleman willing and able to give testimony to Mr. Romanorr’s ability in the dispatch of business. Gold, to any amount, may be had upon the usual rate of interest. (No Frenchman need apply.) A few thousand bayonets constantly on hire. Cossacks, duly mounted, by the week, month, or year. ; None but principals need apply; and no person from Claremont will, on any terms whatever, be treated with. !

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130 PUN ‘CH, “OR THE _LONDON CHAR IVARL. THE MODEL AGITATOR. He is born with the bump of Notoriety. This bump first expands at school. He heads all the rows. His special delight is in teasing the masters. As for punishments, they only whip him on to renewed rows. He is insensible to the cane, quite callous to the birch. At home the | bump grows larger. He bullies the | servants, and plays the democrat to | his younger brothers. He i is always | in open rebellion with “ the go- | vernor,” and very seditious on the | question of latch-keys. His love of | talk bursts out on every little occa- | sion. He will not ring the bell | without an argument. He is very rich in contradictions, having always a No for eve ry body else’s Yes. At last he revolts against parental | tyranny, and is kicked out of doors. Hle is an injured man, and joins a} debating club. ‘The bump gets bigger. Ile attends a public meeting. | The bump enlarges still more. He is called to the bar, and the bump has reached its culminating height. Henceforth he and Notoriety are two inseparables. He runs after it everywhere, and eventually, after numerous dotlges through bye lanes, and heaps of mud, and narrow, dirty courses, and the most questionable paths, he cate “hes the dear | object of his pursuit. He is notorious! He has good lungs, and his } reputation is made. He is a hearty hater of every Government. In| fact he is always hating. Ile knows there is very little notoriety to be gained by praising. | The only thing he flatters is the mob. Nothing is too sweet for them; | every word is a lump of sugar. He flatters their faults, feeds their pre- judices with the coarsest st imulants, and paints, for their amusement, the blackest things white. He is madly cheered in consequence. In| time he grows intoanidol. But cheers do not pay, however lou The most prolonged applause will not buy amutton chop. The hat is carried | round, the pennies rain into it, and the Agitator pours them into his patriotic pocket. It is suddenly discovered that he has made some tre me ndous sacrifice for the people. The public sympathy is first | raised, then a testimonial, then a subscription. He is grateful, and | promises the Millenium. The trade begins to answer, and he fairly opens shop as a Lice nsed Agitator. He ‘hires several journeymen with good lungs, and sends agents—patriotic bagmen—round the country to| sell his praises and insults, the former for himself, and the latte or for every- body else. Every paper that speaks the truth of him is publicly hooted | at ; everybody who opposes him is pelted with the hardest: words selected from the Slang Dictionary. A good grievance is started, and hunted | eve rywhere. People join in the ery, the. Agitat or leading off and shouting the loudest. ‘The grievance is run ‘off its legs ; but another and another | soon follows, till there is a regular pack of them. The country is in a} continual ferment, and at last rises. Riots ensue; but the Model Agitator is the last person to suffer from them. He excites the people to arm themselves for the worst; but begs they will use| no weapons. His talk is incendiary, his advice not hing but gun- powder, and yet he hopes no explosion will take place. He is an} Arsenal wishing to pass for a Chapel or a Baby-linen warehouse. He is | all peace, all love, and yet his hearers grow furious as they listen to him, and rush out to burn ricks and shoot landlords. He is always | putting his head on the block. Properly speaking, he is beheaded once a quarter, A Monster Meeting is his great joy, to be damped, only, by the rain or the police. He glories ina prosecution. He like sto be prosecuted. Ile asks for it: shrieks out to the Government—“ W hy don’t you pro- secute me ?” and cries, and gets quite mad if the -y will not doit. The favour at length is granted. He is thrown into prison, and grows. fat | upon it; for from that moment he is a martyr, and paid as one, accordingly. The Model Agitator accumulates a handsome fortune, whicl: he bequeaths to his sons, with the following advice, which is a rich legacy of itself:—‘‘ It you wish to succeed as an Agitator, you must buy your patriotism in the cheapest market, and sell it in the dearest,” | CHANGE FOR A SOVEREIGN. Tue Freneh . ave changed their sovereign, and all they have got for! it as yet has been the suspension of cash payments, Never. did a sovereign fetch so little on Ch: ange ! jinto their own hands. THE RETURN OF THE ABSENTEES. SONG FOR LONDON TRADESMEN. Now with fond hope all our bosoms are burning, Ill that blows nobody good is the breeze ; Oh with what transport from Paris returning, Daily we witness our rich absentees ! Fast from its faintness reviving our trade is, Quickened as though by restorative drops ; Come to our arms, ye magnificent ladies— Opulent fair ones, come deal at our shops ! Pastry-cooks, jewellers, tailors, and drapers, All in one chorus your voices unite, Hailing with joy the accounts in the papers, Homeward that Fashion is taking her flight. Quickly expanding from pressure and flatness, Rubbing her hands, wit h an aspect of glee, Business resumes her proportions of fatness— What a superior season ’twill be! Y REVOLUTION FECTS OF OUR OWN THE EF ONE would imagine that the latejtremendous Revolution in Trafalgar . . bad is a P Square had been in consequence of the Window-Tax ; for the hatred of | the mob seems to have been hurled ‘principally against the panes of glass. The Chartists cannot surely imagine that the “five points ” are within a stone’s-throw of being carried; or, do they smash the windows on the prince we that when things come to the worst they are sure to mend ? The above portrait of a house that stood the front of the attack | during the three days of our iaglorious Revolution, only shows what | wrong views misguided men are apt to take when they get everything It is, indeed, a painful illustration of the shattered frame of society—we mean that kind of society which has had its fling lately under the head, or rathe r the name, of Cochranites. It is very clear that tl 1ey do not live in glass houses. Extraordinary Sale. Some half-a-dozen Chartists assembled on the 1! 5th instant at Black- | heath, in pursuance of a requisition convening a meeting of their body —which turned out to be a heartless hoax. They found nobody there but a force of special constables; and in this country, the land of mat, © the unfortunate men were publicly sold !

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— PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL 131 THE PERSECUTION OF BRITISH FOOTMEN. BY MR, JEAMES. Ivin remoke from the whirld: hoc- kupied with the umble dooties of my _ perfeshun, which moacely consists of dror- ing hale & beer for the gence who freguent my otel, politticle efairs hinterest but sul- dum, and I confess that when Loy Pur _habdiga- ded (the other day, as I read in my noble & fa- vorite Dispatch newspaper, where PUBLiCOALER 1S the boy for me), I cared no mor} than I did when the chap hover the way went hoff without paying his Tat. No maw does my little Mary Hann. I prommis you she has €20ugh to do - minding the bar and the babbies, to eed the conwulsions Of hempires or | the hagonies of prostrick kings. I ham what one of those littery chaps who uses our back parlor calls | a pokercuranty on plitticle subjix. I don’t permit ’em to whex, worrit, or distubb me. My objick is to leaf a good beer bisnis to little JzEAMEs, to sckewer somethink comftable for my two gals, Mary Hann an HanGELINA (wherehof the latter, who has jest my blew his and yaller | air, is a perfick little Sherrybing to behold), and in case Grimb Dern, | which may appen to the best on us, shoud come & scru me down, | to leaf beHind a somethink for the best wife any gentleman hever | ad—tied down of coarse if hever she should marry agin. | I shoodnt have wrote at all, then, at this present juncter, but for | sugmstances which affect a noble and galliant body of menn, of which I | once was a hornmint; I mean of the noble purfesshn of Henglish foot- men & livry suvvants, which has been crooly pussicuted by the firoashus Paris mob. I love my hold companions in harms, and none is more welcome, when they ave money, than they at the Wheel of Fortune | Otel. 1 have a clubb of twenty for gentlemen outalivery, which has a | rviunion in my front parlor; and Mr. Buck, my lord Dukes hown maz, | is to stand Godfather to the next little PLusu as ever was. | I call the atenshn of Europ, in the most solomon and unpressive manner, to the hinjaries infligted upon my brutherin. Many of them have been obleeged to boalt without receiving their wagis; many of them is egsiles on our shaws: an infewriate Parishn mob has tawn olf their shoaldernots, laft at their wenerable liveries and buttons, as they laff at heverythink sacred; and I look upon those pore men as nayther mor nor less than marters, and pitty and admire em with hallmy art. I hoffer to those sacrid rephuGs (to such in coarse as can pay their shott) an esylum under the awspitible roof of Jeamxs “‘PLusi of the Wheel of Fortune. Some has already come here ; two of em occupize our front garrits; in the back Hattix there is room for6 mor. Come, brave and dontless Hemmigrants! Come childring of Kilammaty for ' eight-and-six a week; an old member of the Cor hoffers you bed and | bord ! The narratif of the ixcapes and dangers which they have gon| | through, has kep me and Mrs. P. hup in the bar to many a midnike | our, a listening to them stories. My pore wife cries lier hi’s out at their nerations. One of our borders, and a near relatif by the Grandmother’s side, | of my wife’s famly (though I despise buth, and don’t bragg like some | foax of my ginteal kinexions) is a man wenerated in the whole profeshn, | and lookt up as one of the fust Vips in Kurope. In this prey 6 (and | trom his likeness when in his Vig to our rewered prelicks of the bentch of bishops) he was called CantYBERRY—his reel name being ‘THOMAS. You never sor a finer sight than CantyBeRRy on a levy day, a seated on his goold-fringed Ammer-cloth; a nozegy in his busm; his little crisp vig curling quite noble over his jolly red phase; his At laced | naliover like a Hadmiral; the white ribbigs in his ands, the pransing | bay osses befor him ; and behind, his state carridge; with Marquiz and MARCHYNESS OF JONQUIL inside, and the galliant footmen in yalla livery clinging on at the back! “ Hooray!” the boys used to cry hout, only to see CANTYBERRY arrive. Every person of the extableshment called him “Sir,” his Master & Missis inklewdid. He never went into the stayble, ixep to smoke a segar; and when the state-carridge was hordered (me and the Jonquits live close together, the W of F being sitiwated in a ginteal Court leading hout of the street), he sat in m front parlor, in full phig, r ading the newspaper like a Lord, until te time as his body-suvn’t called him, and said Lorp and Lapy Jonquin was ready to sit behind him. Then he went. Not a minnit sooner: not a minnit latter; and being elped hup to the box by 3 men, he took the ribbings, and drove his employers, to the ressadencies of the nobillaty, or the pallis of the Sovring. Times is now, K how much changed with Cantyperry! Last yer, being bribed by Sir Tuomas and Lapy Kick.esury, but chiefly, I fear, because this old gent, being intimat with Butlers, had equired a tayste for Bergamy, and Clarick, and other French winds, he quitted Loxp and Lavy Jonquit’s box for that of the KickieBury famly, residing fue Rivuly, at Parris. He was rispected there—that CanTyBERRY Is wherehever he goes; the King, the Hex-Kings coachmen, were mear moughs compared to him; and when he eard the Kings osses were sold the other day at 50 frongs apease, he says they was deer at the money. Well, on the 24th of Febbywerrry, being so ableegin as to drive Sir T.and Lapy KickLepury to dinner with the MARKEE D’EprInarD, in the Fobug Sang Jermang, CANTYBERRY, who had been sittn all day reading Gallynanny, and playing at cribbidge at a Marshong de Vang, and kawns- quinly was quite higuorant of the ewents in progrice, found hisself all of a sudding serowndid by a set of rewd fellers with pikes and guns, hol- lerun and bellerin “ Veevly liberty,” “Amore Lewy-Pumip,” &¢.— Git out of the way there,” says CantyBeRRy, from his box, a vipping his osses. The puple, as the French people call theirselves, came round the carridge, rawring out “dh Bah 0 Aristograt !” Lavy Kickuesury looked hout. Her Par was in the Cheese Mon- gering (olesale) way: and she never was called an aristograt afor. “ Your mistaken, my good people,” says she; “ Je swee Ongluse. Wee, boco, Lavy KiICKLEBUKY, je vay diner avec MUNSEER D’EpryNAR;” and so she went a Jabbring on; but I’m blest if the Puple would let her pass that way. ‘They said there was a barrygade in the street, and turn- ing round the Eds of CantyBERRy’s osses, told him to drive down the next street. He didn’t understand, but was reddy to drop hoff his perch at the Hindignaty hoffered the British Vip. Now they had scarce drove down the next strect at a tarin gallop, (for when aggrywated, CANTYBERRY drives like madd, to be sure), when lowinbyold, they come on some more puple, more pikes, more guns, the pavement hup, and a Buss spilt on the ground, so that it was impawsable to pass. “Git out of the carridge,” rors the puple, and a feller in a cock at, (of the Pollypicnic School, CanryBerky says, though what that is he doant No), comes up to the door, while hothers old the osses, and says, “* Miladi, il fuut des cendres ;” which means, you must git out. “ Muway ne vu pas, Moi Lavy Kick.eBury,” cries out my Lapy, waggling her phethers and diminds, and screamin like a Macaw. “Jl le fo pourtong,” says the Pollypicnic scholard: very polite, though he was ready to bust with laflin hisself. ‘“ We must make a barrygade of the carridge. ‘The cavilry is at one hend of the street, the hartillary at the other; there’ll be a fight presently, and out you niust git, Lapy KIcKLEBURy set up a screaming louder than hever, and I war- rant she hopped out pretty quick this time, and the hofliser, giving her Vo harm, led her into a kimmis shop, and giv her a glas of sally- valattaly. Meanwild CantyBerry sat puffin like a grampus on his box, his face as red as Cielingwhacks. His osses had been led out before his hi’s, his footmen—French minials, unwuthy of a livry—had fratynized with the Mobb, and ‘T'nomas CanTYBERRY sat aloan. “Descends mong gros!” cries the mob; (which intupprited is “‘ Come down, old fat un;) “ come off your box, we’ re goin to upset the carridge.” * Never,” says Tuomas, for which he knew the French; and dubbling his phist, he igsclaimed, ‘ Jammy, Dammy!?? He cut the fust man who sprang hon the box, hover the tase and i’s; he delivered on the nex tellers nob, But what was ‘tuomas CanryBeRRY against a people in harms? ‘They pulled that brave old man off his perch. ‘They upset his carridge—/is carridge beside a buss. When he comes to this pint of his narratif, Tuomas always busts into tears and calls fora tresh glas. He 1s to be herd of at my bar: and being disingaged hoffers hisself to the Nobillaty for the enshuing seasn. His tums is ninety lbs per hannum, the purchesing of the hannimals and the corn, an elper for each two osses: ony to drive the lord and lauy of the famly, no drivin at night excep to Ofishl parties, and two vigs drest a day during the seasu. He objex to the country, and won’t go abrod no more. Ina country (sezee) where | was ableeged to whonder abowt disguised out of livery, aimongst a puple who pulled my vig off before my face, ‘YwoMmAS will never mount box agin. And | eplaud him. And as long as he has enough to pay his skaw, mY Louse 1s a home for this galliant Hegsile. VOL, XIV. (9)

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¥ x N i} BriGuton is expected to be very full of crowned heads this season, and several apartments are already taken in the best parts of the town, for some of the most distinguished European sovereigns. The Marine Parade will probably be thronged with potentates, and Mr. Frissy, a deposed king from the Theatres Royal, Drury Lane and Haymarket, will, it is believed, entertain his exiled or abdicated brethren with an Ug) “ i——— le i offer of fraternity. Those Monarchs who are not so fortunate as to possess any income of their own, will, of course, be compelled to live in: the humblest style, and perhaps even to follow some useful occupation for a livelihood. The Majesty of Bavaria may open a shop for Bavarian brooms, and the King of Prussia might commence in the origina] Prussian-blue line, in which we think there is an excellent opening. AN ANGLO-DUTCH VILLAGE. Tue rural district of Dalston has lately run the risk of having been washed awzy. The Rain has invaded the houses, and sorely puzzled the inhabitants how to repel the intruder; for there were not paiis an mops sufficient in the neighbourhood to eject him. The village, for the last week, has been in an amphibious state—one day on water, the next day on dry land. If it had been built on the Goodwin Sands, it could not be worse, further than it might have disappeared some showery afternoon altogether. ‘The householders are at a loss how to hold up their heads against the tremendous overflows their houses have lately had. The poor people who cannot swim, ‘are obliged to take refuge in their bedrooms, and fish for their provisions through the window, whilst the boldest parents do not like venturing out to meet the butcher, and receive from him the daily chop, without previously \ a? WO = AAT SOUS SASS ——S — —S-. \ - = _ . —_ =o ee VIEW OF DALSTON AT LOW WATER. sustaining themselves with one of Picort’s life-preservers. To the traveller the rush of water gives him the cold notion that he is in Holland, and that one of the dykes have been punctured witha pitchfork and overflowed the country. uality certainly reigns in the Shrubland s, for the deluge, which not only reigns, but pours, has brought all things to the same level. The Royal Humane — has appointed e until further a Consul with two boats, to put up at the parish steep notice. q | royal entertainments, that we are induced to give the following recipes HOW TO DRESS A REVOLUTION. _ Tus very piquant plat, though unsuited to the English Constitution, is so very popular just now on the Continent, where it appears at mos’ for preparing it, according to the fashion of the different countries in which it may be called at present a standing dish. Revolution & la Parisienne—Take an old King and a batch o' Ministers—if in an advanced state of corruption, so much the better. Then set on your public opinion, and let it boil, throwing in stimulants & discrétion, and peppering highly with the most exciting topics tied up tight in an old newspaper. Stir in your King and Ministers; wher your mixture ferments, strain them off and throw them aside. Nex! take a poet, an astronomer, pamphleteer, a working man, and two o1 three journalists (the higher flavoured are the best); mix intoa Pro- visional Government; squeeze them well, and shred them into your stock, when at the boiling point. Flavour with Socialism, Communism, Liberty, Fraternity, and Equality, and serve up hot. pledges as much as you want, let them simmer for thirty years in a cas- serole kept very close shut. When sufficiently done, wnich you may ascertain by the bitter taste and turbid look of your liquid, throw in at intervals a handful of German nationality (which may be got very cheap and strong at any German university town) and a rough censorship; season with aspirations and imaginations @ discrétion. Shred ina few heads of La Parisienne and La Marseillaise, with a bunch of Vaterland and Burschen-lieder, and a weak extract of spirit of royalty. i with poudre de canom and boulets, and serve up luke-warm. Revolution & la Petit Allemand.—Take small Germans, such as you may find readily in the Almanach de Saxe-Gotha, throw them into a strong revolutionary stock, made in the proportion of an ounce of common sense to a pound of despotism, and the mixture will effervesce, your small Germans rising to the surface. You may serve either with or without your small Germans, according to taste; but the dish, in either case, is not one we can recommend, being, in fact, a very feeble imitation of an English original. OUR NATIONAL DEFENCES, WE are happy to hear that a few spirited young men have formed themselves into a volunteer corps, under the Colonelcy of the Duke or RicuMonp, and are meeting twice a week at AnerLo’s Fencing Rooms in Bond Street at 4 past 5 a. M., for the purpose of learning the military exercise. This is patriotism with a vengeance; for though it is an every-day occurrence to talk of dying for one’s country, the idea of turning out of bed at 4 past 5 for one’s country, suggests a piece of heroism that no one can be expected to perform. We have no doubt that in an emergency the whole of the British nation would rise—at four in the morning—as one man; but, under existing circumstances, when it is not absolutely urgent that the razor should be exchanged for the sword, and the boot-hook for the bayonet, there is a wonderful amount of fortitude and patriotism in the movement of the Bond Street Brigade, which goes on duty with the milk, and has achieved its morning task by the time the regular dustman is only beginning to bite the dust. Revolution a la Berlinaise—Take of disappointed hopes and broken |

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363 Lar iy Es W71/) wy =sS hi i Uff Yj <a Of | RAR EEOET) «. al Vis ‘/p / 4 WA PA | K/ l —_-

DIABLE.” T TI “LE PE John Russell going through his celebrated Performance at her Majesty’s Theatre,

Stephen’s. St.

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es PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL | difficulties of ; | armour against the assaults of his creditors. THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF MR. BRIEFLESS. CHAPTER THE EIGHTH. UMPTIOUS, my landlord, was very angry with me for leaving the fortified attic I had held under him for the last quarter, and he insisted that I had un- settled everything by my brief tenancy; though, judging by the applications for money with which he was beset, everything must have been fearfully unsettled before I came to his abode. He hinted that I had caused him to reject a most eligible offer from a Queen’s Counsel, who would have taken half the chambers for life, and paid all the rent in advance, if I had not come to an agreement just in time. I left him, however, on good terms, at three o’clock one summer’s afternoon, while he was taking in bed, according to custom, his usual breakfast of a red herring and a quart bottle of stout. He lived chiefly on dried fish and heavy fluids; the herring or soldier inspiring him, as he told me, with valour to face the t is position, while the beer served as a sort of heavy He fancied, moreover, that the liquid gave him a pleasing substitute for that refresher he was never destined to enjoy ina more professional form; and I have known him murmur out, “ With you, BARCLAY AND PERKINS,” as he perused, previous to settling the delicious draught. I am, however, in danger, like the “gentle Zitella,” of loitering “ too long on the road ; ” | so, being aware that the time for sending in copy is “advancing,” and that the printer’s “‘devil’s abroad,” I shall go gallantly a-head with my manuscript. I had not quitted my fastness in the den of my dun-haunted friend without providing myself with other quarters in lieu of those I had halved, and a set of chambers—for chambers, like artificial teeth, jugs, and window-curtains, are generally disposed of in sets—had been already secured. These consisted of one of those mountain peaks which give to a part of the Temple the appearance of an artificial or mosaic chain | of Apennines, rising up in proud opposition to those dreamy uplands which form the apocrypha of, mountain scenery, under the well-known | name of the Surrey Hills. ‘These great untraceables, which are said to be visible from the top window of every furnished lodging in London, on a clear day, were held out as a bait to me, by way of inducing me to locate myself where my professional prospects would be so lofty. But, alas! how visionary are | such allurements, which, like the money of the industrious classes in the French Savings Bank, after the glorious Revolution, got up for their exclusive advantage, could not be realised. When I sought to feast my gaze on the alleged hills, I was doomed to see nothing but a quantity of the celebrated metropolitan curling fluid, forcing its eccentric way from forests of chimney-pots, and leading the imagination to suppose that every one of the Surrey Hills must bea miniature Vesuvius, judging from the quantity of smoke it sent forth. I sometimes grew poetical on my disappointment, and out of the chaos of my feelings a beautiful set of verses would occasionally arrange themselves, in a strain resembling the following :— Yes, mine eye has sought the mountain, They promised I should see Beyond the Temple fountain, Which rises four foot three. Athwart the courts while glancing, Of Elm, Pump, Fig-tree, Hare, My gaze, with speed advancing, as paused in mute despair. For in the distance lying, see a cloud of fume, Like fields of darkness flying Tow’rds some far land of gloom. And e’en when days are clearer, And I can plainly trace, As if it had been nearer, Nature’s long distant face, I come to a conclusion, Which every day-dream kills, That they ’re a mere delusion, Those boasted Surrey Hills. It would be difficult indeed, to descend suddenly from the poetic heights amongst which I have been wandering, and fall to a subject so insignificant as the engagement of a clerk; and therefore, for this necessary appendage to a set of practicable chambers, of which the pos- session is more than nominal—that is to say, including something beyond the right of putting one’s name upon the door—I must refer | the reader to the ensuing chapter. ENGLISH ASYLUMS FOR FOREIGN SOVEREIGNS. A Great deal of misapprehension 4 oy to prevail on the subject of the possessions held in this country by foreign sovereigns. Lovts- Purripre’s alleged two millions in the British Funds have dwindled down to four hundred a year from a furnished house in Long Acre; and | indeed, that being just now unlet, he is compelled to reside, like a policeman, in LeoroLp’s empty house at Claremont, with the run of the garden-stuff to supply him with eatables. If we have many more distressed monarchs running over here for shelter, we shall be obliged to get up a benefit for them at one of the theatres, in imitation of the liberality of Mr. Lumtey, who has just granted his splendid establishment for a performance for the distressed artisans. A series of Walhalla-like ¢a//eaur of the Revolutions in the respective countries where they have occurred, would prove immensely attractive, if the deposed sovereigns and their ministers would, in the political poses plastiques which we suggest, sustain their original characters, REWARD OF MERIT. Tue Commissioners of Police have been graciously pleased to allow as many of the letters of the alphabet as were present at the recent revolutions in the metropolis to wear upon their buttons the words “ Trafalgar Square” and “ Kennington Common,” in honour of their brilliant achievements on those memorable occasions. This generous act, which was only due to the bravery of the hardy sons of Scotland | Yard, redounds greatly to the credit of the Commissioners, and has produced the most unbounded satisfaction amongst all the members of the force, from 1 to 100 inclusive. the edges of the buttons, which are to be put into hand and distributed immediately, and not to wait, as has been falsely reported, till the distribution of the medals to the Peninsular heroes. A wreath of laurel is to run round | This latter favour | was granted especially at the request of the Duke or WELLINGTON, who, we are proud to say, not only appreciates, but takes a pleasure in rewarding merit, in any shape. Atrocious Assault. Tue following has been forwarded to us by the Electric Telegraph. We think we shall be able to recover damages from the Company for the assault, for we were quite taken aback at the time by the violence of the blow, and have scarcely recovered from it yet. Let the reader see how he likes it himself :— 7 Q. Why is there no chance of the ComTE pE Paris being King of rance A. Because Lovis-Puruirre sacrificed the heir to the crown, when he threw away his wig. We have laid our damages at £10,000, and we are positive an intel- ligent jury will award us every penny of them. If not, there is no | ngland ! justice, no redress for injuries in Cock and Hen Colours. Tue Frankfort correspondent of the Zimes gratifies the world with the subjoined intelligence :— ‘The national colours are worn by every one, in the shape of a small cockade, and some enthusiastic citizens have decorated their pigeons, cocks, and hens—nay, even the asses march about the streets arrayed in the German tricolor.” This is only fair, and in a truly liberal spirit. How long, for instance, have double-headed eagles, and harpies, and lions, and griffins, been the aristocrats of the lower world, elevated by the herald? Equality, how- ever, is now taking a turn even in the | omg Fe and stable, Golden eagles and unicorns have had their day. It is time, then, that cocks and hens, and drudging asses, should make a holiday of it.

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Paris Fashions for 1848. |

THE REPUBLIC OF LETTERS. LIBERTE—EGALITE—FRATERNITE.

| | (Proclamation.) y SK | } — Tie Provisional Government of France, || inthe vindication of their great task—are not to be prevented by the possible insinuation of a woe ed egotism, from asserting the rights of brain. The Provisional Government numbers among its members the poet, the historian, the jour- nalist. They would fraternise with the poets, the historians, the journalists of the Republic of Letters: a Republic in which the greenest laurels are ever watered by the purest ink. 1 | Hitherto, under previous monarchical dynasties || —those personifications of selfishness, cowardice, and ignorance—the foreign author has only been welcomed to France to be robbed. The biblio- — pick his pocket. Hy AYP. The Republic has abolished capital punishment (| PoE REI in the cases of political treason. It willcrown |) \>A}5= its work by abolishing Capital Robbery in the ; case of Literary Spoliation. Henceforth, it shall not be lawful for any Citizen to reprint the works of any foreign author, without his license. As the pocket-handkerchief of the foreigner is guarded by the law from the fingers of the vo/eur,—so shall the book of the foreigner be consecrated from the fingers of the bookseller. f Citizen Gationant is invited to devote his ; : —_ _— / patriotism to the fulfilment of this high purpose. a ——=> sibemmeenltite ain, \\ \ peat ie: PT a0 ———_- | ies Signed by the Provisional Government, bbe

SP ILS

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138 PUNCH, OR THE L COLONEL SIBTHORP ON THE FINAL CAUSE OF SQUIRES. URELY it is a strange coin- cidence that original minds will often singly hit upon the same idea. The two subjoined passages exhibit . astriking instance of this 4 coincidence between the i views of two intellects of y a very different order, and of two several ages—the one a departed, the other a contemporary genius. The first of these quota- tions runs thus :— **T have, indeed, a much better opinion of this kind of men than ——= is entertained by some, asI take them to answer the order of Na- ture, and the good purposes for which they were ordained, in a much more ample manner than many others. Now, as Horace tells us that there are a set of human beings, fruges consumere nati—“ born to consume the fruits of the earth "—so I make no manner of doubt but that there are others, eras consumere nati—‘‘ born to consume the beasts of the field ”—or, as it is commonly called, the game ; and none, I believe, will deny but that these squires fulfil this end of their creation.” The above sentences were written by Henry Frerpine, and are con- tained in the second chapter of the third book of Zom Jones; or, The History of a Foundling. Our second extract is the following :— *« It was the unanimous opinion of the tenant-farmers that the game preserves were the main cause that induced gentlemen to reside on their estates, and fulfil those duties which their wealth and station called upon them to discharge.” The foregoing words are a portion of the speech reported to have been delivered on Mr. Bricut’s motion for the Repeal of the Game Laws, and in opposition to the same, by Coronet Sretuorp. The idea which they embody may be safely concluded to be the Colonel’s own, since to have borrowed it from FreLpINe, it is necessary to suppose, not only that he has read him, but that he has understood him. The fine satire of the Author of Zom Jones is confirmed by the rich gravity of the Member for Lincoln. According to the gallant and candid Colonel, the main cause that induces country gentlemen to reside on their estates is the love of sport; to this the fulfilment of the duties attached to their position being a subordinate consideration. It is for the preservation of the pheasantry, then, rather than of the peasantry ; of partridges, hares, and rabbits, rather than of the peace, of which they are Justices, that country gentlemen live—at least, live upon their land. They regard their property secondarily, with a view to its improvement, primarily to the increase of the game which it pro- duces. ‘They are attached to it more by the amusement than even by the revenue which it affords them. Such are “the good purposes for which they were ordained ;” or which, at least, they subserve, according to the tenant-farmers and Coronet Sistnorr. And in consideration of being enabled to divert themselves by sporting, they are willing to fulfil the duties of their station—which principally consist in spending some of their wealth among those who create the whole of it. It is very well for the tenant-farmers to say all this—for they have good reason to know and lament it. But for one of the squirearchy themselves to promulgate such a statement, is indeed very indiscreet. *Tis an iil bird that befouls its own nest—a bird which we might almost venture to call a goose. Oh Sretuorr! SretuorP! The Moon's Changes. Our friend ALDERMAN Moon has been leaving his name at the Palace. This is nothing but right, after the many attentions which the worthy Alderman has received from the Royal Family. We regret, however, that we have not seen his name amongst the hundreds of noblemen who rushed to condole with Louts-Puitipre, through the medium of their cards, upon his ex-Majesty’s recent misfortunes. Has Moon no sym- pathy for the abandoned crown of France? Has he so soon forgotten the hospitality of the Tuileries? This total eclipse of Moon is even blacker than the one which occurred after the rain last Sunday week. But probably the princely patron of the R.A.’s is only waiting for His ex-Majesty to recover his exuberance of whiskers, before he calls upon him to ask him to sit for his ex-royal portrait. There is nothin like combining business with pleasure, when you can do it with a good face. THE ABSENTEE. —s —meneme, Qnesnate, in pe oy oy 5. his not menting, 8 meeting convened by himself, is now called by his indignant party (the Mob) fthe Shy Cock-rane of Westminster.” ONDON CHARIVARL A CARD. Mr, Natuay, Theatrical Costume-monger, presents his respectful compliments to Emperors, Kings, Prime Ministers, and Royalty and Ministers in general; and begs to call their attention to his large and various assortment of theatrical dresses, calculated at a moment’s | notice to afford so complete adisguise to the wearer—in the now too frequent case of a political topsy-turvy—that not even the most deter- mined republican or reformer can detect the fugitive. Mr. NaTHan is—as he hopes—honestly proud to record the fact that the casquette worn by a certain late Majesty, was supplied from his wardrobe. The entire costume of the German Postilion, in which Princs METTERNICH made so successful an exit from Vienna, was also from the stock of Mr. N.; who, in brief, has a large assortment upon hand particularly worthy of the studious attention of crowned heads at this severe, but interest- ing season of removals. .B. Mr. Nataan is also justified in recommending his Farewell Mask. It has a peculiarly ingenuous expression, giving even to a Prime Minister the look of honest industry. Ready-money; and no foreign paper taken. NEW MAPS FOR OLD ONES. ATE events prove that a revision of Geo- graphies is indispensably necessary. Revo- lutions rub out so many landmarks, that, the boundaries of a nation last year are only the hedgerows of this. Kingdoms are turned into Republics—Grand Duchies are merged into Confederations—whole principalities are sponged off the map, and provinces jump frantically into separate States. Europe for the last month has been nothing better than a big slate, where any- body who has had the knowledge of drawing a Constitution, or a new line of politics, was at liberty to make what sketch or new design he pleased. The geography of France, however, requires the most correction. We say France, to make use of the old name, for we doubt if there is such a country at present existing. It consisted formerly of so many provinces and departments. They are all wiped away, like so many drops of water, and are now swamped in the great ocea’. (by no means a Pacific one) of Paris. There were once upon a time great cities, like Bordeaux, Marseilles, Toulon, Lyons, Orleans, and a large family of rovincial capitals, who derived their importance from silk, or wine, or arbours, or sausages, or pdfés, if not politics, of some kind or other. Paris has guillotined them all. All other cities are contemptible ciphers by the side of that great unit. In fact, i/ m’y aplus de France. It is now all Paris. Future ARRowsMITHS must make a note of this, and in describing the past capital of Gaul, print as follows :— “Paris begins at the Pas de Calais, and extends as far as the Mediter- ranean. It is hemmed in on the west by the Rhine, and only prevented from spreading on the east by the ocean. All the elections are under the ileunes of Paris. It makes laws and fashions for every French- man, and changes the Constitution as often as it pleases. It numbers ar cere millions of inhabitants, and enjoys absolute power over them all. regulates the thoughts, movements, and bayonets, of every Frenchman, Frenchwoman, and child. Its revenue is what it can get, its expendi- ture a great deal more. Its form of government it is impossible to define. The nearest approach to it is a weather-table. It has only one department. Its name is France.” There are other parts of Europe that want looking over and remodelling just as much, but at present the world is such an agitated shape that it will be better to let it subside first, before we attempt to describe any new shape it takes. The year 1848 promises to be a mighty fine year for mapsellers. We wonder the thoughts of it have not made many a king turn Wixp! Emblem for Ireland. DIFFERENT nations have their different representatives, derived from | the animal creation. There is the British Lion—the Austrian Eagle— the Gallic Cock. The embiem of Ireland ought to be the Hyena, the creature—according to WomBwELt’s natural history—‘‘ wot kindness cannot conciliate, nor hunger tame.” A NICE POINT OF LAW. Ir has been suggested to our friend, Mr. Brrertess, that his opinion would be very valuable on the question, whether a man who dies before | he has settled with his creditors, may be considered to have shown an | undue preference, in paying the debt of Nature before his other ilities ? It controls public opinion, levies taxes, upsets dynasties, and | ~~

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 139 IRISH RANTERS. _ Y the newspapers we perceive that the old style of melodrama, which has so completely disap- peared even from the Surrey and the “Cowbug,” has at length ) turned up on the other side of the water; but at a distance no less considerable than across the Trish Channel. Situ O’Brien, Meacuer, and Mitcue.t, form a trio of ranters and shouters quite equal to their predeces- sors, the CopHams, the HicksEs, the Freers, and the H. Kem- BLES, who, during the thirty years’ war of absurdity against commion sense, were accustomed J Ld to devote their last—or at least ’ their loudest—breath to the} “once popular cause of dramatic extravagance. The following scene, which is precisely the kind of absurdity {in which Messrs. MitTcuett, Meacuer, and Suitu O'BRIEN ~ have been accustomed to per- form, will remind such of our readers as may be acquainted with it, of the old trans-| Thamesian dramas, which were | so famous in the Elizabeth-Mar- tinian age. The Scene represents a back-room in the office of ey — Trishman.2? Murcne.n is discovered writing a leader. Mitchell. There—’tis concluded. Would that I could drive the point of this steel pen home to the hearts of the Saxon tyrants! or would that all England had but one reservoir of blood, that Ij might perforate the hated receptacle with a single dagger, and let the vile fluid wash over and fertilise my unhappy land! THE Enter Suitu O’Brien and MEAGHER. Meagher. Well, comrade, are you prepared to drag the Saxon jackall from his lair, and release the Irish Eagle to his mountain home ? Mitchell. No, not till I have sheathed this penknife in the bosom of tyranny, and planted the shamrock over my own grave. ; Smith O’Brien. Your generous language warms me, and makes me long to be once more an inmate of some sequestered cellar, where I may turn the black diamond of the Wallsend into an ornament for my martyrhood’s diadem. ’ Mitchell. Thou speakest bravely, friend. Let us swear to die on the altar of Erin, or strangle our oppressors with the wires of her neglected harp. 2 Meagher. Yn case I fall ere I can utter the feelings of my heart, I wish no other —- than that you, my friend (¢o MitcHELL), should speak for me my last words, which I now speak in advance, “ Avenge me, France !” Enter an OF¥FicER with a Warrant. Officer (mildly). 1 beg your pardon, gentlemen, but it is my unpleasant duty to tell you that you are all three wanted on a charge of sedition. Smith O’ Brien. Wanted, indeed! Yes, and many more like us are wanted to rescue the first flower of the earth and first gem of the sea from the grasp of the Saxon. a Meagher (to the Officer). Go, tell the vile usurper, of whom thou art the wretched minion, that we shall rush eagerly into the chains he has prepared for us. Officer (very mildly), There are no chains, Sir; you can put in bail, if you happen to know any person that’s respectable. Mitchell. Caitiff! already does my trunkless head look from the murderous block on to my lifeless | wong one I see my curling lip raising my clenched hand in stern defiance of thee, myrmidon, and thy | ase masters. Smith O'Brien. Take me to my cellar hone—the home of him whose only crime is love of country and | hatred of the opposite. Officer (still very mildly). Well, gentlemen, you’d better reserve what you’ve got to say antil you get | before the magistrates. I’ve got nothing more to do, but to serve you with these notices, and wish you | good morning. Smith O’ Brien. Meanest of dogs! that dost thy master’s bidding and snappest at the heels of heroes ! Avaunt! We come. Meagher. Conduct us to our prisons. We prefer the martyr’s pitcher of water, and the patriot’s crust, | to the traitor’s gilded cup, or the recreant’s banquet. Mitchell. Go, tell the bloody government we are amnesed, and will one day be revenged. Officer (more mildly, if possible), Certainly, Sir; 1’ll take the message; but the “one day” you allude to must not be to-morrow, if you please, for that’s the latest time that can be allowed you for finding bail. (Smita O’Brtey, AGHER, aud MITCHELL are all making up their minds and their mouths for an overwhelming outburst of indignation, when the Scene closes in. Tue PorentiaL Moop.—M. Lepru-Rot.iy seems to wish to rule France with his “ Absolute Shall.” Let us hope the Future will prove this “ Absolute Sha//” to be overruled in time by the “ Popular Widl.” THE ROMANCE OF ADVERTISING. Mr. CotBurn, who may be presumed to know what are the legitimate modes of advertising, has put forth something quite new in the art of literary puffing, with reference to his collection of Standard Novels. He says, the new volume, which is to appear with the Magazines on the 1st of April, will be “ The work which was found by the side of the unfortunate DucuEssr pe Prastin, and which, | it is understood, she was perusing at the | moment ehe was attacked by her husband— a work which has been pronounced to exhibit a better lesson to the sex than is centained in | a volume of Mrs, Cnaponr’s Letters.” | We learn from this that Mr. , Corsurn relies for the sale of this | book upon the fact that it was being | read, just previously to her murder, by | | the unfortunate victim of assassination ; | and, though we can see no possible | connection between the merit of the | ook and the crime set forth in the | advertisement, we presume that the publisher knows his business, and has reason to expect a favourable result from the sanguinary spice he has thrown into his puff. We perceive quite a new era of advertising oo by the line that has been adopted, and we daresay that, in future, no act of atrocity or villany will be committed without its being made use of by way of recommendation to some forthcoming work. The mis- cellaneous reading of the victim of GREENACRE, had if been known to the publishers, might have been very ser- viceable in an advertising point of view; and Hocker’s perusal of any one of the romances of the season would, of course, have raised the favoured pro- duction into rapid popularity, if the | connection of author and reader be- tween the writer and the murderer had | been properly known. We could suggest a few specimens of this style of advertising; but, as it, would be | invidious to place any particular work | under distinguished criminal patron- | age, we abstain from furnishing the | —— puffs that we might otherwise ave put forth. The French Princes. WE understand that, immediately on the arrival of the Pricer DE Jorn- | vitLe in England, he proceeded to | offer his services to the London and Westminster Iron and Twopenny Steam Packet Navigation Company. Messrs. Cattarns and Fry, in the name of the Directory, declined the | proposition, but intimated, with much cood feeling, that the British paddle- ox was always open as a path to glory for those who had proved their sincerity in England’s cause. The Duxe p’Av- MALE has, it is said, applied for the vernorship of the Isle of Dogs, and een refused by Lorp PaLMERsTON, in the politest terms. RATHER SERIOUS. | The most sceptical must admit that | | | | Reform has gone past a joke in Ger- many at this moment, when we see that the people of Hanover have taken to reformin’ ERNEST.

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI = - wh WLAN LL RANA ; NYA MAAD el ASN Br \" = Ze DUNG LLL TTT Me at RAN NNN v\ a) ) nt ERAS Nh \ TV BTN HiT } MATH | AY (le { (Mal i I AON Tarts individual, who has lately burst upon the world in the character of an Irish patriot, was born of humble but honest parents, who sent him to asmall school, where he received several of those whippings, whieh, had they been judiciously economised, might, some of them, have been spared most advantageously, and come in very beneficially at the present period. : ; dl Young Mitcue.t evinced, in early life, no decided predilection for | learning; and when his schoolfellows were ane in their ordinary tasks, he would be found in one corner of the playground, throwing up brandy-balls, and catching them dreamily in his mouth, an incident to _ which some are disposed to attribute the fiery nature of his eloquence. He soon, however, began to show a disposition for romantic reading, and we find him at the age of fifteen in a state of frenzied rapture over ' an illustrated Edition of Zhe Blood-Red Knight, which gave the hue to ; his future character. __ . . | Perhaps, however, his mental condition took its last completing stamp from the incident of the pot-boy Oxrerp having sprung, at one _ bound, from the public-house yard to the arena of notoriety, by a mis- chievous and malignant pone of pea-shooting at the QuEEN. OxrorD had fired the pistol, and the pistol had fired Tnscmecs to such an extent that his brain—what there was of it—became inflamed with the desire of heroic martyrdom. It is true that the whipping clause had not then been added to the Act for dealing with the delinquencies of mischievous urchindom, or there might have been an alteration in MITCHELL’s views but the impress was given—he had become, in mind and intellect, an Irish OxrorD, and no succeeding addition made by the legislature to the penal statutes for repressing turbulent snob-ism could restrain him from his puerile propensities. As he has lately been dignified by being made the subject of a government prosecution, the height of his ambi- tion must be presumed to have been attained. It is to be hoped that his offence may be found to come within some category to which the treadmill and a rigid course of hair-cutting may be applied. The Royal Game of Goose. Tue publishers of the Almanac de Saxe-Gotha are in the greatest state of excitement. There has been a great temporary demand for their little periodical, from persons anxious to ascertain from its pages the names of a great many little German States and Princes, which were | never heard of till the one was in a state of revolution, and the others had abdicated—just as corked-up small beer makes a great noise when it bursts its bottles in the dog-days. But, this momentary curiosity once satisfied, it is feared by the proprietors that the lively little chronicle of small royalties must shut up altogether. Perhaps the interest in it might be kept up for a while by transforming it into Zhe Sazxe-Gotha Calendar, on the model of the Newgate Calendar, giving an account not only of the birth and parentage of the various potentatikins, but of their misdeeds and punishments. THE FRENCH AMBASSADOR. We are great friends of real economy; but we are desirous of guarding against the popular error, that economy consists in the reduc- tion of useful expenditure. Whenever a cry for retrenchment is raised, the working men are the persons who unfortunately have the greatest reason to tremble, while sinecurists, who receive their annual hundreds or thousands, for some dozen signings of their name, are left to repose snugly on their salaries. Aig: : France seems to be commencing its economy somewhat in the old conventional style, and we accordingly have a new Ambassador to this country with a salary of four hundred per annum. His Republican Excellency may manage to live, if he is a single man without encum- | brance, upon the sum allowed him; but his establishment must be of | the most moderate kind, and his arrangements all of the most econo- mical character. As to an equipage of his own, that will be out of the | question; and if he attends Drawing-Rooms, or Levees at the Palace, | |e must either walk or pop into the handsomest Hansom on the | nearest cab-stand. His Excellency will, on ordinary occasions, patronise the omnibus , box, not at Her Majesty’s Theatre, but on one of the Chelsea or Blackwall vehicles ; for cab hire, except when engaged like our old friend CHEVALIER Bunsen, “ona special mission,” will be quite out of the question. We presume that he will be allowed to take some little ad- | vantage in the way of passports, for he will never make both ends meet, | and live like a gentleman, upon his bare official stipend. We hope the Provisional Government will reconsider the shabby ay sy made with the Ambassador sent to England, so that the poor fellow may at least be able to keep up something like an appear- ance among his brother diplomatists. The Fight comedian at any decent theatre gets more than eight pounds per week, and the Republic ought at least to allow the Ambassador his white kid gloves for presentations, and six clean collars per week, in addition to the collar of the Order of Liberty, if he is to feel comfortable in decent company. Economy.—WeE learn that Isrant™ Pacua was being saluted at Naples, just as the news of the establishment of the French Republic arrived there. This was fortunate: the same gunpowder served for a twofold honour—every cannon firing a double compliment.

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os PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 141 Victim. “ Hope you wILt NoT BE OFFENDED, Sir; But I sHOULD BE VERY GLAD IF YOU COULD SETTLF MY LITTLE Bitt up To CurisTMas.” Mr. Dunup. “ Orrenvep, My pean Boy! Norin Tue veast! Fact 18, I nave ‘ suspENDED Cash PayMENTS’ FOR SOME TIME.” Bout THE x= An Apartment Wanted. W ANTED, a small, incommodious, ill-ventilated, wretched, disgusting, filthy, soul-and-body-killing Apartment, in the Richmond Bridewell, Dublin. The tene- ment will be taken, with the greatest pleasure in the world, for three, six, nine, or twelve G months or years. The Gentleman desirous of this accommodation, rejects—or would reject—with the deepest, most inconceivable, and therefore most inexpressible scorn, any proffer soever of the smallest taste in life of indulgence, from the parties desirous to treat with him. On the contrary, he must be submitted to every species of revelting cruelty and meanness. He must be denied books, pens, ink, and paper, and the sight of the faces | J of his dearest kindred, the grasp of the hand, the warm pressure of amity, bubbling and burning from the heart of devoted friendship. This, and much more than he can express in the smal! limits of a public advertisement, must be denied him, or no party will be treated with. Further, the advertiser stipulates for brown bread and brackish water as his daily sustenance, and very little of it. Parties who can supply fetters by the hundred- weight (handcuffs are indispensable, or no letters will be answered) will be delightfully responded to.—Address, post paid (that is, with the Head of the Saxon Queen upon the letter) to F. Mircnxtt, Office of United Irishman, Dublin. No Irish need apply. LOOP-HOLES OF BRIBERY-LAW. To the Members for Great Yarmouth, Harwich, and Derby, we may now add the Member for Horsham, unseated for bribery and corruption. A rogue is an honest man till he is found out; Members of Parliament are men: let us believe, then, in the pan urity of the House of Commons. But itis singular that the Election Committees should have declared the unseated ones guilty of bribery merely through their agents. This wondrous kindness would almost seem to have been begotten of sympathy. One might really aagas that the Committee- men must have put themselves in the place of the accused. Well—at all events, there will be an end to capital punishment. If it is not to commit bribery to be guilty of it through agents, it will not be to commit murder to be guilty of it through instruments. He who shoots another through the head, will, ot course, be acquitted; inasmuch as it is the pistol that shoots the man, and not the person who loads it and pulls the trigger. WONDERFUL PATIENCE, CotonEL SriptHorre declares that his family have represented Lincoln for nearly three hundred years. If the Colonel at all resembles his ancestors, their election must. certainly have been carried in the spirit of Jon. (N.B. the word “Jos” may be pronounced either way, at the option of the reader.) THOMAS in PARIS, TO JEAMES tn LONDON. “ Civizen JEAMES, ’ ‘ “ FRATERNITY, and—as I says to master, Liberty and Equality! | “Though Citizens, we have never embraced one another as brothers | of the people; nevertheless, Citizen, your beautiful works have made | ~~ a brother in every hall, in every pantry, in every kitchen. Citizen | EAMES, we fraternise ! : | “This precious city of Paris has had such a shaking, that masters | and men are all alike now; none steading up above another; but all | equal, like knocked down ninepins. The drawing-room has been shaken into the kitchen, and wicey-wercy. : | “ Liveries is abolished; and buttons—with crests upon ’em—it is | — to swear at. Yes; now, too, your buttons is to be a real | itizen. } .““They’ve cut my yellow plush into kettle-holders ; and my blue coat | and red cuffs have been sent to a convent for the nuns to work ’em into cockades. “On the 25th of February, master and I come to a new ‘rangement. — Sometimes he was to drive me; and sometimes I was to drive him. | Equalit and brotherhood was to take their turn; now inside, and now | on the box. “Well, all this was very well; and every night in the hall—when we | consented to go there—I sung the Marshalhays and the Moorire poor | Patry afore we went to bed ; Citizen Doss, the footman, and Citizeness | Mary Ann, the housemaid, and young Citizen Maxamruuion, the | page, joining in chorus. pa _‘ Howsomever, last Tuesday week, the Citizen my master said he must | discharge me; for our brothers, the French, wouldn’t let any of their brothers the English 9 Paris to eat up the bread that was meant— they said—for Equality, Liberty, and Fraternity. “ After all, the Citizen, my master, is not so bad a Citizen; and as I’d agreed about the inside and the box, I thought I’d make a push to stop, and ae the Republic. ‘ 1’ll not be an Englishman,’—says I —‘Citizen. No; I’ll be a brother of America!’ and for two days I passed among the fraternity of the French as Wasuincton Spixr, Citizen of New York. [ didn’t like to deny my country—but the Citizen my master gives good wages. *P’raps it’s the genteelness of my manners, but my brothers, the French, wouldn’t have me as a Yankee brother no how. So they was beginning to kick up a bobbery, when the Citizen, my master, sends for me, and says—‘ Tuomas, this American dodge won’t do, no how. Se you must wear this, and hold your tongue, and pass for a Polander or a erman.’ “Saying this, the Citizen, my master, gives me a false nose with mustachers to it—for all the world like the things that gents wear at masked balls; and for the last three days I have put, I may say, a new face upon the box, and never spoke in my own mother tongue. When swear in French, the horses understand me just as well as afore, which says something for my haccent. You may think I’m romancing ; but I send you my profeel of what I was, and my Daggerotype of what am, CITIZEN BUMBLEPUPPIWITZ. CITIZEN THOMAS. There ’s I don’t know how many English Citizen coachmen driving about in the same way. So no more, at present, from your brother, “ Rew Saint Honaray. THomas.” *P.S. Mary Aww leaves for London to-morrow, and brings this. The Citizeness refused to wear a Roman nose, saying—with all the spirit of a woman—she wouldn’t hide her sweet little pug, not for the best Republic that ever walked !” THE HANDSOME THING. Tue Emperor or Russta promises to behave with the strictest decorum towards France, if France remains quiet towards Russia. The times are changed. There wasa period when Nicnoxas would have run unmuzzled at the Republic; but now—like the bear of GoLpsmITH’s showman—NIcHo.as will only take steps “ to the genteelest of tunes.”

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| should imagine that M. Carnot was a pupil of M. Lepru-RorumN— } | tinetly the colours of the tricolor on the clouds which concealed it | during the late eclipse. These colours are not any one of them precisely | the | A penny postage-stamp would have done it. | 142 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL. BALFE AND HIS BATON. Tue music of VERDI requires so much exertion on the part of the conductor, that Batre wears out a new ddton every night, when an Operaof the popular muestro is given at Her Majesty’s Theatre. The magnificent band ot the establishment throws itself with such enthusiasm into the music, that it requires all the tact and influence of the conductor to keep the orchestral performers in their places, and some of the wind instruments grow positively frantic with the gigantic nature of their task. Such is the enor- mous exertion required, that the trumpets are regularly on their metal, and after cach act a heap of brass filings has to be removed from under the ophycleide. The massive movements for the violoncello have frequently worn away the strings of the instrument to a thread in a single night, and the performer on the kettle-drum has been known to have fallen down exhausted, like an over-fatigued policeman, on his arduous beat. In the mean time, Batre, like a musical AoLus, presides over the harmonious storm, and insures the most perfect euphony from the combination of the apparently discordant elements. Dawn of Ignorance. M. Carnot, the Minister of Public Instruction in France under the THE PROGRESS OF ART. Tue artists of the illustrated newspapers have been evincing a won- derful appreciation of the value of truthfulness to nature, in their recent portraits of Lovis-Puttippe, to whom, on his first arrival, they gave, in accordance with historical accuracy, no whiskers at all. In order to mark this curious effect of the Revolution, they turned the ex-king’s head into the most uncomfortable attitudes, so that the absence of whiskers, caused by his shaving them off during his flight, to avoid detection, were glaringly perceptible. Each week, however, since his ex-Majesty’s arrival, the artists have been rapidly augment- ing the quantity of whisker in their portraits, and we shall soon have Louis Purpre’s favoris restored to their old exuberance. The artists, it is true, are dealing somewhat harshly with their sub- ject, and are giving whiskers with an exuberance that Nature, who never lays it on too thick, would repudiate; and we advise a more cautious application of the artistical macassar, if probability is not to be entirely set at defiance in the series of scenes of “ Lovuis-Puitirre at Breakfast,” ** Louis-PHILiere after Breakfast,” “ Lovis-PHitirre taking a Walk,” * Louis-PHILIPPE coming home from a Walk,” and other subjects of the same interesting and exciting nature, that every week adorn the pages of the pictorial journals. A HARD BLOW, Srr Georce Grey said, in the debate on the Game Laws,— ** He thought the majority of the House would agree with him in condemning the modern system of battues (hear, hear), which was followed not for sport, not by country gentlemen in their country pursuits (hear, hear), in which their tenants were able to join, but for the sake of the enormous amount of game killed being inserted in the newspapers. (Hear.) It was a practice utterly unworthy of English gentlemen (hear), and might be considered as one of the sources of those numerous crimes which were attributed to the Game Laws.’’ This is strong language; but every word of it perfectly just. We recollect, however, that Prince ALBERT is a great advocate and promoter of all 4attues. His amount of game killed, too, is invariably inserted in the newspapers. Now Sir Georce Grey says, that the practice is utterly unworthy of an English gentleman. Gracious goodness! What are we to infer? But the inference is too horrible to be seriously enter- tained, and so we will dismiss it with the simple request that Sir GzorGE will not sacrifice our loyal feelings again to the base purposes of truth. We must really forego the pleasure of reading the Debates, if we are to be pained in this distressing way. Making Game. A Foo.isu accident has prolonged the existence of the Game Laws another twelvemonth. They have been saved in consequence of a ‘dropped order.” What that is, we do not pretend to say; but it must be something very funny, for all the Members laughed. Now, we enjoy a joke as much as anybody, but it strikes us that legislation is not exactly the thing to make fun of. If it is merely a joke, then we contend that we have a greater right to sit in the House than anybody yet returned, with one or two exceptions. If it is not a farce, then it seems strange new system of Fraternity, informs his countrymen that “it is a great | error to suppose that it is necessary, in order to bea representative, | to have education.” This has been proved before now in our own House of Commons; but still, if a Member is to receive five-and- | twenty francs a-day, we think the least we have a right to expect | from him is, that he should be educated. The same thing is expected from a clerk, who receives infinitely less. If all the Members of the National Assembly are to be elected on the above principle, France is likely to become a second Beeotia, and the president’s chair, to be properly filled, should be put up to election only amongst the Lunatic Asylums. If such is the instruction which M. Carnot generally dis- tributes over France, we are profoundly grateful we have no similar minister in our country for the propagation of such doctrines. We a pupil, too, of the first class. International Colours, Many of the long-sighted Republicans declare that the moon looked favourably on the new aspect of French affairs, for they could trace dis- the couleur de rose ; but still we can waderstand perfectly well why the moon should look with sympathy on France, for it must feel that next to itself, there is nothing in the whole world subject to so many changes and revolutions, as that country. We wonder the Man in oon has not sent in his adhesion to the Provisional Government. to us why the throwing out of a most important Bill should provoke such general merriment. What is game to you, landed gentlemen, is death to others. Farmers, you must not complain of the reduction of your crops, for your representatives must have their joke, though it is at your expense. The partridges and pheasants still enjoy the Govern- ment license to eat where they please. The game of landlord has been won by asingle trick. ‘Tenants, you must pay the stakes, and and hope for better luck, if not fairer play, next year. New French Chambers. Art the last sitting of the Club of the Oratorical Institution at Paris, a certain Citizen, says the Zimes— “* Demanded the reign of holy fraternity, and proposed the nomination by election, of two Chambers, of which one should represent ‘ Talent,’ and the other ‘ Virtue.’”’ All success to the demand for the reign of fraternity, and for Chambers of Talent and Virtue! We wish the Parisians could take a set of chambers for such occupants, and fill them. We only hope there will be no demand for the Reign of ‘Terror, and the consequent institu- tion of another “‘ Chamber of Horrors.” Printers’ Cannon. WE understand, from our own correspondent at Vienna, that the Emreror Fervinanp is really so much in earnest in his new love for the freedom of thought, that he has given all the cannon that were shotted to fire upon the people, to be made into printing-presses. ‘This is truly the most humane mode of turning the guns of the enemy upon himself.

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 143 LED BY THE “NOES.” Tue business of the House of Commons was interrupted one night last week, in consequence of the illness of the Speaker. We are not finding fault with the Rigut HonouraB.e Sim Cuartes SHaw LerevRe because he dared to be unwell. No man is proof against colds, espe- cially in a house ventilated by Dr. Rerp. We only think that remedies should always be at hand for such casualties. Ina theatre, when the first tragedian or the prima donna is seized with sore throat, or chil- blains, or the sudden loss of salary or voice, a substitute is invariably put into his or her part. Why could not the same plan be tried in the House of Commons? Why not have a sub-Speaker, who is epoeeny engaged to play second during the session, as often as a cold in the head of his superior, or any other accident, calls upon him to display his talents ? At all events there should be some one to apologize for the ill- ness of the Speaker ; or notices might be exhibited outside, to the fol- lowing effect :— THEATRE ROYAL, ST. STEPHEN'S. _ The Ministers regret to state, that in consequence of the sudden indisposition of THE SPEAKER, the performances advertised for this evening cannot possibly take place. To-morrow will be repeated the laughable farce of “Tue Income- (Signed) RussELL. A medical certificate, signed by Mz. Wak ey, might accompany this, and so would save the unpleasant necessity of the Speaker attending when too unwell, and suffering publicly in order to attract the notice of some sympathising Member to make the necessary adjournment before his presence can be excused. We might suggest a pan of hot water and a friendly basin of water-gruel, with napkins round the head, if the big wig was not found sufficiently warm; but these homely remedies might provoke the well-known gravity of the House, and besides, it might be rather difficult to catch the Speaker’s eye when buried under a thick woollen comforter. However, a Sub, or some easy remedy, should be thought of, as the Influenza, or a civic dinner, or the north-east wind, or any of the thousand ills that English flesh is heir to, might deprive us for several weeks, and perhaps a ae session, of the services of the Speaker, and then what would become of the public business? Why, isters would not be able to practise the economy they talk so much about, and we should be having next year in wt my ad another gentle increase of £110,000 in the public s alone ! THE PERSECUTION OF BRITISH FOOTMEN. BY MR. JEAMES. Ins last weak the Deaming of Revalution has been waiving bis flamming sord over France, has drove many more of our unfortnit feller suvnts to hemigrat to the land of om Buth. ‘ - e€ aggrywation o e Boddy of Gentlemen at _- =. Livvry agenst the Forriner es -. Iam sorry to say is intence. : Meatings of my bruthring have took place at many of their Houses of Call in this -= town. Some gence who use - our back parlor had an Eccembly there the other WWW night called the Hagerygit , _ British Plush Protection | Society, which, in my capasty of Lanlord and Xmember of the Boddy, I was called | ‘= upon to attend. Everythink was con- YE ducted on ordly redymoney prinsaples, | - = and the liquor paid for as soon as calle == for, and drunk as soon as paid. | = _ But the feelings of irratation against | Foring Sevvants as igsibbited by our | Domestic projuice was, I grieve to say, | very bitter. Sevral of our Marters came | amongst us, pore Egsiles wrankling under | the smarts of their ill treatment. and awhirt peraps a Mass of French curri d lack loyed by our oe an a I am thankf “to thnk that pees prewented a dellidge of foring blood. the noble Prins, I say, was called upon by the Puple to dishmiss his let the Hosskeepers be turned out, as the Sovring Puple is inimichael to ; , [ The|their stoppin in stories of their Rongs caused a furmentation amongst the bruthring. | chear for fratunnity, & the por groombs packed up, and have come It was all I could do to check the harder of some Howtragus Sperrits, | back to their native hilind. ul to think that peraps I| after the hosskeepers; sold up the studd; lock: PP the carridges, broombs, cabs, bogeys (as those hignorant Brench u The tails told by our Marters igsited no small and unnatral simpithy : when Cuawis Garters, late Etendant in the famly of the Duxe or CatyMmanco in the Fobug St. Honory, came ———- and igsplained how—if he had been aloud to remane a few weeks longer in Parris— MADAMASELL DE Catymanco, the Dukes only daughter and hairis, would probbly have owned the soft pashn which she felt for our por ' CxawL1s, and have procured the consent of her Par to her marridge with the galliant and andsum Henglishman, the meeting thrild with Amotion, and tears of pitty for our comrid bedimd each hi. His hart’s afections have been crusht. MapyMasELL was sent to a Convent; and Cuawis dismist with a poltry 3 months wages in adwance, and returns to Halbion’s shores & to servitude once more. Frederic Legs also moved us deaply; we call him leggs, from the bewty of those limbs of his, which from being his pride and hornymint had nearly projuised his rewing. When the town was in kemotion, an the furious French Peuple pursewing every Henglish livary, FrepRick (in suvvice with a noble famly who shall be nameliss) put on a palto and trowseys, of which his master made him a presnt, and indeavoured to fly. He mounted a large tricolore cockade in his At, from which he tor the lace, and tried as much as possable to look like a siwillian. But it wouldn’t do. The clo’s given him by his X-master, who was a little mann, were too small for Frepertck—the bewty of his legs epeared through his trowsies. The Rebublikins jeered and laft at in the streats ; and it is a mussy that he ever reached Balone alive. _ I tried to cumsole Cuawlis by pinting out that the Art which has truly loved never forgits, but as trewly loves on to the clothes; and that if Madamasell reely did love him as he said, he had a better chans of winning her And now than under a monarchickle and arastacrattic Guvment ; and as for Freperic, I pinted out to him that a man of his appearants was safe of implymint and promoashn in any country. i did everythink, in a word, to sooth my frends. In a noble speach I showed, that if others do wrong, that is no reason why we shouldn’t do right. “On the contry now is the time,” I said, “‘ for Hengland to show she is reely the Home of the World; and that all men, from a Black to a Frenchman, ought to be safe under the Banner of Brittannier. “The pholly of these consperracies and jellowsies, | think may be inted out to my feller-suvants, and igsemplafied in the instants of the amlies of the Prince or Bovo, at Parris, and of Lorp Y Count Gut- TLEBURY, in this 7 ; “ At Parris, As is well ascertained, the nobill Prins, who kep a large studd of osses, with English groombs to take care of em (as by natur Britns are formed to do that, and everythink better than everybody)— Hinglish osskeepers. ‘Serviture,’ says the Prince, ‘ Veeve la liberty ; France.’ The Puple left the Sitzen Prins with a “But what inshood? The nex day, the Prins sent away the hosses ggiz), laudores VOL, XivV.

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144 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL & all, and goes about now with an umbereller. And how I should lick to know, is the puple any better for aoe Hl ‘ ; , “Loup Ycount GutTLeBury’s is a case, dear friends, which still mor comes hoam to our busms our bisniss, and has made no small sen- satiun in the Plush and in the fashionable wuld. The splender of his Lodships entytainments is well-known. That good and uprike nobleman only lived for wittles. And be ard on him? why should we ?—Nayter has implanted in our busum tastis of a thousand deferent kinds. Some men have a pasbn for fox-untin, some like listening to dybatts in Parlymink and settn on railrode committies; some like Politticle Aconomy. I’ve waited bebind a chair d foax talk about Jol- lagy, Straty, and red sanstone, until I’ve nearly dropt asleap myself while standing a Santynel on jewty. What then? Give every mann his taste, I say, and my Lorp GcurrieBury’s was his dinner. “He had a French Hartist at the head of his Quizeen of coarse—that sellabrated mann Munsger Scurrime. Munsger Soortay persided hover the cumfeckshnary ; and under SupRayM were three young aidy- congs: a Frenchman, a Bilgien, and a young feller from the city, who manidged the tertle and wenson department. “He was a clever young mann. He has hofn been to take a glas at the W of F: and whenever he came with a cassyrowl of clear turtle, or an ash wenison dish for my Mary Hany, he was [’m sure always welcome. But Jonn Basres was henvious and hambishes. He jined the owtcry which has been rose against foring suvnts by some of our bruthring, and he thought to git ridd of Supraym and the other conty- nentials, and espired to be Chief Guvnor of my lords kitching. | ’ “Forgitting every sentament but haytred of the forryner, this envius raskle ingaged the kitching-boys and female elpers (who, bein a hansum young mann, looked on him with a kindly i) in a fowl conspirracy against the Frenchmen. He introjuiced kyang pepper into the pattys, garlick into the Blemongys, and sent up the souffly flavored with ingyans. He pysoned my lord’s chocolate with shalott, he put Tarrygin vinegar into the Hices. There never was such a conwulsion, or so horrid an igspreshn of hagny in a man’s, has (I’m told by my exlent friend, the ajordomy) my lord’s fase ashumed, when he tasted black pepper in the clear soup. “The axdence oecurred day after day. It was one day when a R——1 P—ss—n—dge was dining with his Loddship; another when 6 egsiled sovrings took their mutton (when he didn’t so much mind); a 3d when he wished to dine more igspecially better than on any other, because the doctor had told him to be careful, and he was dining by himself: this last day drove him madd. He sent for Suprame, addresst that gentilman in languidge which he couldn’t brook (for he was a Major of the Nashnal Guard of his Betallian, and Commander of the Legend of Honour), and Suprame rasined on the spott—which the French and the Bulgian did it too. “ Sourriay and the cumfectioners hemigrated the nex day. And the house steward, who has a heasy master, for Lorn G. is old, fibble, and 70 years of hage, and whose lady has an uncommon good apinnion of Master Baster, recommended him to the place, or at least to have the Purvisional Guvment of my lord’s Quizeen. , “Tt wasn’t badd. Baster has tallints of no mien horder. You couldn’t egsactly find folt with his souperintendiance. But a mere good dinner is fur from enough to your true amature. A dellixy, a something, a jennysguaw, constatutes the diffrants between talint and us—and my lord soughered under it. He grew melumcolly and silent; he dined, its trew, taysting all the outrays as usual, but he never made any remarx about ’em, for good orfor bad. Young Baster at the Igth of his Hambishn, tor his Air with rage as his dmners came down 1 by 1, and nothing was said about *em—nothing. “ Lorp Gutriesury was breaking his Art. He didn’ knowhow fond he was of Surrayy, till he lost him—how nessasurry that mann was to his igsistence. He sett his confidenshle Valick to find out where Suprarm had retreated; and finding he was gone to Gascony of which he is a naytif, last weak without saying a word to his frends with onl SanGsew his valet, and the flying ketching fourgong, without which he never travels—my lord went to France and put himself again under Suprarm. The sean between ’em, I’m told, was very affecting. My lord has taken a Shatto near SupRaym’s house, who comes to dress the dinner of which the noble Ycount partakes aloan. “The town-house is shet up, and everybody has ad orders to quit—all | the footmen—all the quizeen, in coarse including BastEr—and this is all he has gained by his insidgus haytrid of forraners, and by his foolish hambishn. “No, my friends,” I concluded; “if gentlemen choose to have foreign suvnts, its not for us to intafear, and there must be a free trayd in flunkies as in every other kimodaty of the world.” I trust that my little remarks pazyfied some of the discontented sperrits presnt—and can at least wouch for the fact that every man shook Ands; every man paid his Skoar. Wortny or tue Occastox.—One of the characters in the new Adelphi drama called Harvest Home, is a villanous hawker, played by O. Smita; and some evil genius at our side has suggested to us that this “villanous hawker” is a very “hawkerd villain” ////22001101 ————— EQUAL TO THE EMERGENCY. Wii Lxpav-Rortax has just proved fi) — P - \ his capacity for coping with the French crisis, S an act that will place him among the ~c* coolestif not among the greatest _ statesmen of this or any other ___—~ age. When nearly all ‘employ- ment has ceased, when the —+— | % ] workmen are walking about ee L j idle by thousands, when men oi | of business are shutting up = their establishments, and men SY XS of property running away, M. AE Sc-- Lepru-Ro 1, as Minister of Ss the Interior, puts forth a fus- tian proclamation full of the = rarest rodomontade, and order- - ing some gratuitous perform- ances at the theatres of Paris, that the people may have a free opportunity of listening to noble sentiments. Fancy Sir Grorce Grey, with England in a worse state than happily it ever has been, or we hope ever will be, coming out with an order to throw open the doors of the Victoria and the Surrey, in the name of Liberty, Equality, ernity. -» We understand that some first-rate sentiments are often to be heard at the Grecian Saloon ; and we believe that the code of chivalry towards the female sex is expounded there in a style not to be met with at any other establishment. What, then, is to magnon our Minister for the Home Department from directing that the people should have access to this emporium for elegant outbursts of the finer feelings of our nature, if the French Minister is right in sending the people to the play, as a panacea for the awful dangers to which the country is exposed at the present moment ? t is a somewhat remarkable fact that orders for the theatre are the only orders in France that have not yet been doomed to abolition. One of M. Lzepru-Routn’s colleagues, M. Louis Buanc, has gone largely into the gardening line, by way of saving France from utter ruin, and is walking about with noisy mobs singing “ Ca Ira,” and planting trees of Liberty. We should propose that if this planting Soupdbelens is essential to the glory of the French Republic, it would be better to typify the Tree of Liberty under the symbol of a long pole with a leg of mutton fastened on the top of it. If the French Revolution is to be a grand achievement, and the Republic a great fact, the sooner it shakes off these frivolities and sets to work, instead of continuing at play, the better it will be for the national character. PURE PATRIOTISM. Every one must be delighted with the disinterestedness of Lorp ELLENBOROUGH in calling attention to the public expenditure ; for, as he | happens to enjoy a sinecure as Clerk of the Fees of the Court of Queen’s Bench, given him by his father when Chief Justice, and amounting to £9625 per annum, an inquiry into the subject of extravagant outlay cannot be otherwise than prejudicial to himself. We quite agree with his Lordship in his wish for economy, but we differ from him as to which end we ought to begin at ; and, instead of cutting down the hard-working clerks of £90 or £100 per annum, or even the hard-working men of a few hundreds, we should like to see a commencement made with the exor- bitant sinecures of such persons as Lorp ELLENBOROUGH himself. We presume, however, that his Lordship has taken this delicate method of inviting public attention to his own case, and that he only waits for the hint to be given to him, to make a graceful relinquishment of his enormous i uisites. We shall look for the speedy consummation of this laudable object at a very early period. Homage to Harvey. Ir is proposed, says the Maidstone Journal, to erect a monument to Dr. Harvey. As so many statues have been awarded to men whose celebrity rests on blood, one, at least, may be considered due to the discoverer of the circulation of that fluid. Contract for Ireland. Office of “ United Irishman,” Dublin. WASTED, an immediate supply of strong, stout strait-jackets, for 2 number of very dangerous lunatics.

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| PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 145 OUR ROYAL CORRESPONDENCE. WE are overwhelmed from all parts of the Continent with letters from our royal acquaintance. It is remarkable that, though they all come frees the writers seem to avoid the use of the royal Head on the outside, as disagreeably suggestive. We have received so many of these “ Epistole obscurorum virorum” from little German potentates — es P aapeee eae or pam pent to oe that ~ | think seriously of opening a bureau Of royal agency, ior purpose clearing reduced sovereigns through Custom House, as Messrs. M‘Cracken and Cuixwery do with foreign works of art and vertu. All these sovereigns, without any exception, write in the highest spirits of the reforms going on in their States; but we are rather at a loss to reconcile the tone of their letters with the hints and commissions in their postscripts. Perhaps, from the subjoined specimens, our readers may be able to solve this apparent contradiction for themselves. From His Serene Hicuwess Lovts, Grand Duke of Hesse. “Lreser Herr Ponca, * Cassel, April 1. “Tr is with delight I once more find myself in heartiest, and sportively-cheerful intercourse with you, although I do not the English language with-ease to myself write, not having the same close and poctgusinny-Segey connection with your country enjoyed, which to | the of my cousins of Saxe-Cobourg has luckily fallen. You will | gladly hear that all in these my dominions has on the glorious course of | Constitutional Reform with-prosperous-wind entered. |My beloved | subjects this morning my palace with loudly-joyous salutations entering, _ and the windows of the Grand Hall of audience in their-with-difficulty- repressible loyalty breaking to shivers, received from me, their beloved hereditary-sovereign, all that they demanded. A Ministry hostile to the-by-the-times-demanded progress, I have ignominiously dismissed, glorious press-freedom have I p imed. Your so-much-by-our- urisprudents-praised trial by jury, have I liberally introduced; and I ear at this moment the fex-dejote with which my reforms are in the streets by a holiday-crowd welcomed. This is glorious (herrlich}, is it not? With England for imitation-worthy model, and sportive-laughing Punch for Friend, happy am I. * Dein aller-liebster ganz und gar reformirender Freund, “Louis.” Private After-Communication. As in my newly-begun-of-constitutional-usages apprentice-year, I shall no doubt soon visit England, will you a scmeadiodem odging for me engage? So, if you have, in your large and cultivated circle, friends who shall be anxious to learn our German language, I shall be glad the true Court style (Hof-sprech-und-Schreibart) to impart to them, for a moderate instruction-price (Lehr-geld).” From His Roya Hicuyess Freperic-Wuiam-Lovis, Prince of Prussia, “Dear Poncn, | * Berlin. “We are all in the pleasant excitement of a change of ministry. Lleave Berlin ona special mission to London. Do order me a dozen | | shirts, and have acab for me at the Blackwall Pier. I shan’t bea | minute delayed at the Custom House, as I have no luggage. * Ever yours, ge eg “P.S. Do you think ArseRt’s uniforms would fit me? Zztr’ amis, | You know, point de cérémonie.”? From His Impertat Masesty Ferpinanp I, Cuanres-Leororp- JoserpH Marce.ian, Emperor of Austria. “In my Palace at Vienna. *PreaseE, dear Mr. Punch, I am very happy; but they will take the horses out of my carriage, and fire ever 80 many guns off, which startles me a little; but Merrernicu is gone, and they say we must have a free press and a Constitution, but I know what that is; and, if you please, I should like to live in England, because they would not: take the horses out of my carriage and fire guns off there. If you think my cousin QuEEN VicToRIA would be glad to see me, I should like te came very much. Is not this a nice letter? Nobody seen it. I have written it all myself. Good bye, dear Punch. se From His Masesty Frepexic-Wi11am THE Fourrn, King of Prussia. “ BELOVED AND ProrouxD Puncu! “Aut hail to the glorious Teutonic race, of which you in England also are brethren, and which I hasten this day to bind in a new and mighty unity ! [have placed myself at the head of the national movement ! Tumultuons rejoicings hail the event throughout Berlin! For thirty years | have awaited this moment! Hark, that shout! My beloved Berliners, I fly to receive ~~ loyal and fervent greetings ! “What joy is comparable to that of the constitutional monarch of true German hearts ! * FREDERICK- WILLIAM.” *P.S. Pray drop in at Buckingham Palace, and inquire if my old bed- room is in order. I may give my dear little coz the agreeable surprise of a visit improvisée, some of these days. It is so seldom we unhappy kings can dispense with ceremony.” The Imperial Rothschild. They are afraid lest he should put himself at the head of his Cossacks, and sweep away every vestige of civilisation from the surface of Europe. Strong-minded persons (ourselves included) only laugh at these fears. We know that the Emperor loves a million as much as anybody; and does he not possess millions in our Funds, and millions in the French Funds? All these are liable to the fickle changes of the Stock-Exchange. In the event of a war, they would tumble so low, that, probably, they would scarcely be worth the picking up. No; Nicuotas has bound himself down to keep the peace in the heaviest sureties. War is a game at which there is everything to lose, and nothing to gain. Depend upon it, the best securities for peace are Government Securities. “A Magnificent Patriot.” _A Sunpay Paper applies this title to tyrannous old Merrerwicn. Now his patriotism, if not magnificent, was wonderfully ingenious. For he contrived to evade the payment of taxes for his domain of Johan- nisberg for thirty-three years. As he is such a hand at defeating the Exchequer, he might in a course of lectures—* Ox the Eoasion of the Income-Tazx.” Proper Dignity. Tue Regent’s Park Zoological Professors have dropt their admission from one shilling to sixpence. As soon as the Elephant heard that he was to be shown at half-price,—with a dignity worthy of even an eminent tragedian—he resolved to show himself only in profile. WEAK-MINDED persons are alarmed about the Emperor or Russia. | ngland, make a tolerable sum by delivering |

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL THE KINGS IN THEIR COCK-BOATS. Lo, Europe all a-surging with Revolution’s sea, And a dozen cock-boats driving, with breakers on the lee; Each carrying a Casak and his fortunes—that’s to say, Such fortunes as poor Casars are blest with in our day. A crew of Cockney oarsmen in Chelsea Reach afloat, And right upon them steaming down a reckless penny boat,} A footman in a funny, a lone woman in a wherry, Compared with these poor sovereigns may be called at ease and merry. What have they not flung overboard, that fling overboard they can P— Pledge, principle, or prejudice, a measure, or a man ; But the breakers still roar nearer, and each sounding of the well Tells how the ship is settling, and how the waters swell. France clings to his umbrella as a sort of safety buoy, And hails, in desperation, “The Victor1a—a hoy!” Bavanria plunges overboard, to seek solus cum sola, For consolation in the arms of his determined Loa. Poor Austria crouches at the helm in a state of helpless snivel, And military Prussia to his crew grows sudden civil; And even burly Russi, with his freight of gold and tallow, Whether with rage or retching, looks marvellously sallow. And wistfully o- strain their gaze, where thro’ winds and waters dark, Scuds, like a sea-bird, taut and trim, the gallant British barque, Close-reefed and snug—her storm-sails set—and rising to the seas, That dash and drench, uncourtly, their foreign Majesties. Her able seamen were at sea, while yours were snug on shore ; The shoals that you are driving on she has sounded o’er and o'er ; In the gales of Agitation and the white squalls of Reform, She learnt the skill that bears her safe thro’ Revolution’s storm. She was still being caulked and coppered, while your lazy keels were shent With the barnacles of statu quo, the worms of discontent; § ’Tis thus she sails, and mocks the gales that threaten to submerge; Your crazy craft and helpless crews under the wild sea-verge. AMERICAN PARLIAMENTARY SUMMARY. In tHe House or REPRESENTATIVES. Mr. Jones, of Tenessee, in a few brief observations, accused Mr. Haratson, of Georgia, of inconsistency. Mr. Haratson replied by a well-directed compliment addressed to the Hon. Member’s frontispiece. Mr. Jonegs retorted by an effective smasher, which told on Mr. Ha- RALSON’S proboscis. Mr. Haratson then let out with his right, but was + by Mn. Jones with his left; who planted an ugly counter on Mr. Ha- RALSON’s potato-trap. Some scientific parrying then ensued between the Hon. Members. At length Mz. Haratson, having got Mr. Jonzs into chancery, convinced him that, whether he was inconsistent or not, he was well up to fibbing. The House here, thinking that the mill had lasted long enough, cried “Time!” and the discussion between the Hon. Members terminated. dhe Howe then resolved itself into a general set-to on the order of e day. A BRUMMAGEM BYRON. A GENTLEMAN having caught a glance at himself in a glass, with his collar turned down, was immediately struck with his extraordinary likeness to Byron. He went to bed full of the idea, and rose in the morning confirmed in the notion that he was the son—(who was his mother he cared not to inquire about) of Childe Harold. He would immediately, = the strength of this relationship, publish the frag- ments of his lamented father; with letters, washing-bills, and every thing that could illustrate the poet’s history. However, the bookseller discovers the Brummagem Byron, and washes his hands of the unfor- tunate acquaintance. We are glad of this. Otherwise, we should have had the great, at, great grandson of Mizton—who was i married to a aughter of Otiven CRoMWELL—publishing half-a-dozen new books of Paradise Lost, besides a second part of . Ben Jonson would have been represented in the boy (now an aged man) of the NELson Column ; and Beaumont and Fiercuesr come back to us from America, by the Siamese Twins. Bee eee ttt i ia i Oi oo Gee ei Gee 86 eee

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THE BRITISH LION AND THE IRISH MONKEY. | Monkey (Mr. Mitchell). ‘‘ One of us MUST be ‘ Put Down.’ ””

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| \| a ares > vr) we ‘

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL 149

hours a day. This may ave and family frugally provided he there will eas remain money sufficient | L REAL FRATERNITY. ~-_——_ ; : fl _ sg eB \@ oe - We | es : Nk = ty “iil i; A Mes pel Ke ei ol

~~ N WY 2 mh yy with) (he Si Tue English statues of kings and nobles might, with good reason seek to fratern‘se with the French statues who have been put out of sight by the Revolution, to the great envy of some of our own statues, we are most anxious to get released from the conspicuous, painful, and GEORGE and | pedestal. humiliating positions they are at present compelled to occupy. THE Fount wishes himself melted at least ten times a day,

ata I Ma he Ay a i } hin < iy “ Ee. cy ™ NT la I , we Rig Pag ni aD vy Ais —

GrorcE THE TurrD feels that his is indeed a tale of bitterness and sorrow, if, te — generally understood. The Duxe or WELLING- TON, in uly bronze armour, feels his to be an extremely hard case, and = UKE or YorK would be only too glad to come down with the dust of Pall Mall from his lofty and uncomfortable

A WORD WITH LOUIS BLANC. Citizen Buanc, a word with you on the Organisation of Literary Labour. Open ete book ; there Citizen; at page 222 it reads thus, according to our “ Literature has on society the right of acommand. Now, what becomes of this right, when the man of letters descends to exercise his genius asa trade—if he only writes books to amass capital? To become subservient to the taste of the public, to flatter its prejudices, to feed its ignorance, to compromise its errors, to dally with its worst passions; in a word, to write a that may be hurtful, so that it is agreeable ? ? Such is the necessary condition of exchanges his genius for money.” Thus, Citizen, it is only wise and virtuous books that are made gratis. Literature, like love, to be really pure, must not be bought. A man who exercises his literary genius must prostitute it, if he sell his manu- script to a publisher. y, Citizen, these are bitter conclusions. But let us continue. ‘* What,” you ask, ‘‘in exchange for the gold I offer you, will you make me ashamed of my stupidity? Will you curb my egotism—will you disturb me in the enjoyment of the fruit of my rapine—will you make me tremble Tor the future? Your wisdom, Sir, will cost you alittle too dear. I’ll none of it. Thus, thought loses its character of teaching, and with it all moral authority. The writer who depends upon the favour of the public loses the faculty of guiding it ; he loses even the desire to do so. Heisa king who abdicates.” From this, Citizen, we must conclude that every book hitherto written for money is a = of flattery and corruption. BorLeav was a public mischief, and Zartuffe, for which we fear Morrére took hard louis-@ ors, a miserable time-serving comedy. In a word, every paid author is an enemy to the true nobility of human nature—a Swiss, who lets out a pen instead of a pike. “T could cenceive,” says Crrizen BLANC, ‘‘ that a law should be made to abolish, as a trade, the condition of the man of letters; but to make a law to render this trade more luerative, and to encourage the manufacturers of literature, this appears to me utterly insensate.” Thus, if Crrizen Buanc hold to his opinions of 1839, we may expect no law of international copyright from the Republic. Let M. GaLIGNANI rejoice; and let his Bibliothé 4 in the Rue Vivienne still remain the greatest literary “fence” Citizen Bianc would a Tinatess the exercise of over hours. He would have the author learn some handicraft whereby to obtain his daily bread; and, the daily work over, he might then sit down to his foolscap, a pure and unsuspected teacher of the people, because teaching them for nothing. Of course, Citizen, what applies to literature, also applies to the arts that appeal to the higher nature of man. sculptor who takes money for his statues, chisels marble into vilest and most se forms, to the defilement and degradation of the world. The painter —_ nothing but lust and gluttony—because he paints for peng om ITIZEN Buanc would alter this; somehow, no doubt, after ashion. Let the author work—let us say—at a paren in -mill his eight or ten nd about t shillings a week. Self r: and, as for time, at least four hours of the iterary composition. for pens, ink, and night for gratuitous

The sculptor may also employ himself with some trade—gqui subvienne a ses besoins. Human vanity will never be without tombstones. There- fore, let MicuarL ANnGELo work his ten hours in a stone-cutter’s yard, and ‘lay out the rest of his time on Juriters and Junos. When HAEL returned from his daily work as an industrious house-painter, he may then resume his palette, and at over hours pro- ceed with the “ Transfiguration.” CrrizEN Banc has an earnest, and we believe an honest, soul. But with all its earnestness, all its honesty—verily hath it not crotchets ? PUNCH’S MAXIMS MORALISED. 25.—Evil communications corrupt good manners. Tuts accounts for the occasional rudeness and want of manners shown by the editors of newspapers, who naturally get an amount of evil com- munications that must try the politeness, as well as the patience, of the best bred and the best tempered man in the world. 26.—Evil gotten evil spent. Some people say that the crown Lovuis-Pumirre has just made such a bad use o peonen him ill luck in the end, because it was not quite honestly obtained. 27.—Experience is the mother of Science. Perhaps so; but Science, like many other children, will often despise the maternal counsel, and go on in error to the 28.—Experience teaches fools. Then Experience may say to every human being .“‘ You have been, or will be, my pupil at some time of your life.” 29.—Fools make feasts and wise men eat them. This accounts for the paucity of brains that has been observed among some of the most hospitable of the Lord Mayors of London in the olden time. The quantity of civie foolery used formerly to require the assistance of an official fool, but latterly the Lord Mayor found himself quite equal to the entire duty, which, to do him justice, is not he | 80 heavy as it used to be. Guizot at Brompton. “Mr. Puncn, aes © Paris, April 1. “Tr is here very generally reported that M. Guizor has domi- ciled himself at Brompton. Is this really true? Or does the report merely originate from the fact that English dramatists dwelling on that ondon Parnassus, always lay hold of everything from the French—as soon as out ? ** Yours, “ Birrers.”

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150 PUNCH. OR THE LONDON CHARITVARTI. THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF MR. BRIEFLESS. CHAPTER THE NINTH. MR. BRIEFLESS TRIES TO SUIT HIMSELF WITH A CLERK. Havtye now taken chambers all to myself, I was not only monarch of all I surveyed, but monarch of all that had been surveyed for me, by a regular surveyor, in the shape of fixtures taken at a valuation, and consisting of a book-case and a brown-holland blind. As I gazed at the great shelving precipices formed by the book-shelves, my imagination turned them into the steps in the great ladder of professional eminence, and my fancy amused itself like a young kitten, by leaping from one shelf to the other, as if they had been eo in my future career, and now and then holding on, like a matured cat, to those posts into which every one is strug- gling to stick his claws. Now and then, the image of feline buoyancy and tenacity would take me to the summit of the book-case—a position not to be obtained without a good deal of scratching and tearing—when on a sudden the ideal talons would be unable to make their position, and down would come my mental grimalkin with a smash that threatened to sacrifice one or two at least of its nine lives. These reflections were interrupted by the arrival of the artist appointed to carry out the beautiful conception of Suaxsrgane, by giving to my “local habitation ” the addition of “a name.” The poet of all time knew thoroughly well that a business domicile without a door-plate was likely to lead to results as unsubstantial as the “ baseless fabric of a vision,” whose tenant too often “leaves not a rap behind,” excepting perhaps those useless posthumous raps—if I may be allowed the expression—which his creditors bring to the door after the abandonment of the premises. I may perhaps be told that this is digression; but is not almost everything of interest and importance a digression after all? The French Revolutions—all three of them— have been digressions from the ordi course; Str Ropert Pee’s most valuable pieces of statesmanship have been digressions from his customary career, and it is habitually said of anything poor and contemptible, “Oh! itis nothing out of the way.” When, therefore, my genius seems disposed to take a short cut, I am often inclined to encourage it to a more rambling and desultory movement, which has occasionally led it into a number of odd turnings, and not unfrequently into a cul de sac; but some of these byways have proved the most interesting, as well as the most profitable part of my intellectual pilgrimage. : I must, however, check for the present this rambling propensity ; for I find myself suddenly surrounded and beset by a parcel of boys of every age and of every style of British costume, who have been collected by an advertisement I caused to be inserted in the paper for a clerk. They were told to apply between one and two, but they were between forty and fifty at least, iving life and juvenility to the whole staircase by the playful gambols in which they indulged. a -frog was rampant in the passages; while marbles and peg-top made up with conversation the occupation of the pavement at the bottom of the stairs. The candidates|for my clerkship had given to the Court in which my chambers were situated, the aspect of a fair, and the whole of the legal porterage were in arms—wearing their canes and their tickets—to stand by their own order, and preserve the order of the Temple. An attempt was made at one time to get them to fraternise ; but with that loyal and constitutional feeling which has established a sort of miniature bulwark immediately under the pewter badge worn on every breast, they to a man refused to surrender their allegiance. Happily there was no occasion for a collision. The gaminerie did not attempt to depose the chief porter, cause the evacuation of the pump on to the heads of the ticketed classes, insist on the dismissal of all the clerks throughout the Temple, go to the Treasurer’s office for half-a-crown a day for doing nothing, and perform the rest of the fashionable feats that liberty, equality, and fra- ternity, appear, according to the Parisian version of them, to require, It would be uninteresting to describe my nu- merous interviews with the miscellaneous candi- dates for the single, and not very profitable clerkship I had to bestow. Some of them to whom roposed the “half-crowns” by way of salary, and who knew something of the probable roceeds of this mode of remuneration, asked me itterly whether I wanted “ to starve a cove?” whereupon, not wishing to have that ponderous burden, a “starved cove,” upon my conscience, I closed with an urchin not yet in his teens— except his trowsers, which were velveteens—for four shillings a week, and the usual clerical per- quisites. I was surprised to find, by the offers of the enplionsia, the very miscellaneous uses to which a barrister’s clerk could be applied. Some had been accustomed to look after horses, as well as asses—I mean clients—and some twenty or thirty had no objection to undertaking the care of a cat. The great majority were wi to clean my boots—in this I should have met them half- way, for I wore highlows—and two or three had a little carpet-beating and new-laid egg connec- tion, which they hoped their arrangements with me would not render it necessary to disturb. One drove a cab three days a week, and was willing to give me the benefit of his clerkship on the alternate days, with an undertaking not to wear corduroy breeches at chambers; and one juvenile who had been accustomed to deal in congreve matches, thought that his connection with the brimstone trade, and his dealings with Tiuéifer,‘ would be considered to have qualified him for introduction to the law. Having selected my future clerk, and dis- missed the disappointed crowd with a few sentences of judicious clap-trap, in which I told them that under our glorious Constitution every one of them might sit upon the woolsack if he could only get there, and asked them if they ever knew a labourer mount a ladder, except by beginning at the lowest round; they gave me three rounds of cheering, and left me, like the Vauxhall Hermit, alone—alone—alone ! “The Voice of Woman.” La Voix des Femmes is one of the hundred new journals published in Paris since the Revo- lution. It is popular, the Voice of Woman being, of course, heard all over the capital. We see in it that one of the rules of the Ladies’ Club—the ladies who conduct the paper—is, “‘ That no lady shall speak longer than a quarter of an hour.” There are some elderly women in the House of Commons who might follow this excellent ex- ample. A quarter of an hour only! Was there ever such self-denial ? The Best Prosecution for the Irish Agitators. Tue best prosecution after all for the Hibernian Catitines, would be an unanimous resolution of the Press not to notice them. When they found that not a word of their sedition was reported, they would very quickly hold their tongues. The most cruel a mere for an Agitator is silent contempt. It is more effectual than all the fines and imprisonments, and saves a wonderful deal of angerous martyrdom.

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL 151 OUR FOREIGN EXPRESSES. =~. INCE the last few weeks, the news from abroad has poured upon us so rapidly, that we cannot sit quietly down for half-an-hour without being dis- turbed by the intelligence of some fresh Revo- lution. Our paulo-post-meridian chop is scarcely placed before us when a knock comes to our door, and “our boy” runs wildly in with the announce- ment, “ Please Sir, here’s the telegraphic despatch just come with another Revolution;” and that is hardly registered in our mind ere we are broken in upon once more with the intimation that “a man is waiting outside with another Republic, and wants to know whether he shall leave it, and call again.” To deal with all these commotions is more than we can accomplish, and we have for some time past ordered all the dond fide Revolutions to be put upon our file; but the Irish shindies are to be thrown at once into our waste-paper basket without the advantage of a stoppage iz ¢ransitu, to ascertain what they may be worth. We had very nw pitched the whole of samemnty ay the dustmen, and thrown Naples into the hands of the buttermen by another sweeping arrange- ment; but the accumulation of Revolutions is really so rapid, that we have no time to attend to them all. We have, however, been mer g by one of more interest than the majority of the others, in the shape of a REVOLUTION IN THE CANNIPAL ISLANDS. (By Exvtra-erxtra-ordinary Express.) Intelligence has just reached _us, by special barge from Blackfriars Coal-Wharf, that the Cannibal Islands have deposed their king, and that a Republic has been declared. His Majesty, who was closeted with Hoxi when the rising commenced, immediately sent for Pox1, who promised to stir up what few embers of loyalty still remained among the people. Wuanki, who the command of the forces, was believed to be staunch, but at the last moment he received such intel- ligence from Fum as induced him to fraternise with the insurgents ; and | the king, having got a few beads and feathers together, flew towards the frontier. Waosky Prosxy addressed the crowd from the window of his wi » and he, with WHanxey and TWANKEY, were unani- mously chosen to act as a Provisional Government. A decree has already been issued, promising to afford the blessings of Cannibalism to any nation that will accept them willingly, and to force the said bless- ings ss any people by whom they are ignorantly and maliciously declined. Freedom is declared to be established, and, to secure its interests, the great principle has been enunciated that everybody has a right to do what Ye ikes with everybody else’s own. Alarm is deprecated as dangerous to the Republic of C ism, and every one who exhibits any symptom of terror, is to be at once killed, in order to calm his apprehensions, and prove to him that he had nothing to fear. Such is the progress of the Cannibal Islands Revolution, according to the latest advices we have received. “The Queen's Royal Body-Guard.” Tue Gentlemen-at-Arms—so many of them being hitherto Gentlemen- at-Counters, are to be purified of the shop and called as above. The Post tells us that “no person is allowed to enter this corps”—(the service of the corps is tantamount to that of footmen, with the privilege of staring at Majesty)—“ who is in any way connected with trading or mercantile pursuits.” Hence, the Marquis or Lonpon- _ DERRY as a coal-whipper, is not eligible; neither is the Eart or JERSEY as indirectly “connected” with Cxitp’s banking-house. Indeed, when we consider the matter a little, trade and commerce apes so very low, that we hope to see the day when they shall be abolished throughout the empire. What does England want with aledger? Has she not the Red Book? TO CROWNED HEADS IN GENERAL AND SMALL GERMAN ONES IN PARTICULAR. THE new Company, advertised as the “Sovereign Assurance Com- any,” having been overwhelmed with applications from France, Italy, Prussia, Austria, and the German Confederation in general, beg to state, for the information of Continental Sovereigns, that no Insurances can be effected with individuals answering to the above description. The “Sovereign Assurance Company” is strictly a commercial body, and does not take political risks. HOW TO DISPOSE OF YOUR SYMPATHISERS. The Provisional Government en Séance. M. de Lamartine. Messieurs, a deputation of Poles waits to express sympathy, and to demand arms, provisions, and money. Ledru-Rollin. Messieurs, a deputation of brave Belgians waits for the same noble purpose. | Louis Blanc. Messieurs, twelve deputations of Prussians, Austrians, Hungarians, Bohemians, and natives of various German principalities, whose names, I regret to say, have escaped me, wait with the same eager sympathies, the same modest p Posen F. Flocon. Messieurs, six deputations of Italian refugees wait, in we the same attitude as their Polish, igian, and German rothers. All the Provisional Government. What is tobe done? Diable! | M. de Lamartine. Messieurs, let us return their sympathy with interest. All, Bravo! Admit the deputations. Enter the Deputations. ~ M., de Lamartine. Messieurs, the Provisional Government accepts its mission. Messieurs, we are all brothers. Messieurs, the Provisional Government accepts your generous, your noble offer. Messieurs, the ‘Provisional Government is profoundly moved. Go, Messieurs, and fulfil the dictates of your sacred enthusiasm. The Deputations. But the arms ? M. de Lamartine. The Provisional Government gives you its sympathy. The Deputations, But the Provisions ? : _M. de Lamartine, The Provisional Government gives you its admira- tion. The Deputations. But the money ? M. de Lamartine. The Provisional Government gives you its blessing, and tickets. for the railway trains about to start to your respective frontiers. [The tons look slightly sold. M. de Lamartine (with great empressement). Your respective countries Adieu! foreign brethren. (Eveunt the Deputations grumbling. M. de Lamartine. Messieurs, France has lost several battalions of —_ but Poland, Belgium, them ! call for you. Austria, Prussia, and Italy have gained Once arrived, the struggle is theirs. (The Provisional Government look considerably relieved. FISHING EXTRAORDINARY. [By our own Penny-a-liner. | As the season is now approaching for enormous gooseberries, of which a glut — be expected and as these will be succeede by the colossal cabagges, and fol- lowed in due course by a series + of late raspberries, inconsequence of some unlooked-for autumnal mildness in some suburban gar- den, we feel that there will be no opening for fish, and such other small fry, for a very considerable period. The Folkstone Whale came only just in time to get pa- ragraphed ; but we have on hand a specimen of the finny tribe, with reference to whom the motto must be, “ Now or never !” and as we have ey our penny-a-liner in advance for it, we are determined to bring: it in. “The other day an Irishman of the’name of MircnetL was fishing among the gudgeons and flat fish that are so plentiful in his native country, and was going to considerable lengths with his own peculiar line, when all of a j sudden he caught—with a hook— a most Extraordinary Pike! According to Mr. MircHet1’s statement it measured nine feet in length, and had a head of massive iron; but upon a careful examination of the pike it was found not to have anything like the weight that Mr. MircHEt supposed.”

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152 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. IF. ZL ZZ Me “ wem-= ere eM Mita ae aoe MME a a a | ME a a me | hl: \ Y | Ned. “Hatio, Bit, ane you Gone T0 THE EaGLe To NIGHT?” Bili, “Wuy, No! Ir’s such a BORE TO DRESS.” THE PARISIAN COURT CIRCULAR. His Majesty the Populace this week promenaded in the streets of Paris, and sang the Marseil/aise in various parts of the town. His Majesty visited the garden of the Luxembourg, in which he planted a tree of liberty. The tree was decorated by the hand of His Majesty with flags, flowers, and bows of ribbon. The clergy of St. Sulpice were present. The curé and vicaire assisted at the interesting ceremony, by pronouncing an oration and a benediction, after which His yA ar danced round the tree, and let off a number of muskets and crackers. His Majesty subsequently visited the principal quays, and other open places, in which he planted more trees of liberty trimmed with ribbons. On each occasion the clergy in the neighbourhood were in attendance, and one of their body delivered an impressive discourse, the sermon being again followed by a dance and a display of fireworks. In the evening, His Majesty was graciously pleased to com- mand all persons whose houses adjoined the trees of liberty which he had planted, to illuminate, himself setting them his — example, by lighting pitch fires in the principal thorough- ares. Towards midnight, His Majesty thought proper to amuse himself by dragging a bust of his predecessor, Louts-Pni.irre, round the neck of which was tied a label, with “4 Ja lanterne” written upon it, about the streets. His Majesty continues in the enjoyment of excellent health, and, as may be concluded from the above particulars, in the highest spirits. The Apprentices and the Republic. A peputaTion of goldsmiths’ and jewellers’ apprentices went to the Hétel de Ville a day or two ago, to ask the Pro- visional Government, among other things, to amend their diet. They remonstrated against pain sec, dry bread. Poor fellows! wise in their very innocence. For not even Six Rosert would apply to a better place than the seat of government, if wishing to have his bread buttered. THE FINE YOUNG IRISH GENTLEMAN. I’LL sing you a rare new song, of a youth with a shallow pate, Of a fine young Irish gentleman whose Paper ’s his estate, And who writes and chatters treason at a most enormous rate, From love of notoriety, sensation to create, : Like a fine young Irish gentleman—one of the present time. His talk, so empty otherwise, is full of pikes and guns ; With yells for blood and massacre the people’s ear he stuns; He preaches war—but danger since the brawler always shuns, If ever matters come to blows, depend on it he runs, Like a fine young Irish gentleman—one of the present time. When Famine’s hand oppress’d his land, we freely gave our store— Although ourselves in grievous want—to save the starving poor ; We oped our hearts towards them—in return, with brutal roar, Those hearts his fellow-countrymen he calls upon to gore, ike a fine young Irish gentleman—one of the present time. And thus his curship howling in Confederation Hall, Kept on defying constantly the arm of Law to fall, Enraged that Government would take no note of him at all, Because, though great the wickedness, the consequence was small Of this fine young Irish gentleman—one of the present time. At length, as when a puppy will in yelping persevere, Siace, though we reck not of his bite, his bark annoys our ear, And so we kick him: thus the Crown resolved to interfere, And for sedition to indict this puny mutineer, Oh! this fine young Irish gentleman—one of the present time. The Law, though late, asserts itself, no more to be defied : This fine young Irish gentleman and friends are to be tried ; And, oni some wholesome statute there existed to provide A treadmill for the exercise, and a trimming for the hide Of this fine young Irish gentleman—one of the present time. “TRA EST FUROR BREVIS.”—The theatrical critics are loud in praise of a real Ethiopian tragedian, a Mr. ALpripce, with the unusual Christian name of Jra, which is no doubt symbolical of its owner being “the rage,” wherever he goes. PARIS DEPUTATIONS. Every Body sends its deputation to the Provisional Government. A few days ago, it is said, the washerwomen of Paris went to the Hotel de Ville. "Wis it to ask for the linen of the Republic? At all events, it is little to wash the linen of the Ministers who are in. But what would it be to wash the hands of the Ministers who are out ? Printed by William Bradbury, of No. 6, York Place, Stoke Newington, and Frederick Mullett Evans. of No. 7, Church Row, Stoke Newington, both io the County of Middlesex, Prioters, at th-ir Office, in Lombard Street, in the Precinct of Whitefriars, in the City of Lordon, and Pub- lished by them, at No. 85, Fleet Street, ia the Parish of St. Bride, inthe City of London. Saturpayr, Arai. 8th, 1848. Sf a4 OL bed eet ee — e

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL } 153 | IRISH GEMS. FROM THE “BENIGHTED IRISHMAN.” uR troops having smashed through that castle, and pulled down that flag, which now floats over the butcher CLAREN- rions, a flood o prosperity will rush into the country, such as only the annals of the Four Masters gives count of. Since the days of Brian BorormyHE such days of peace, plenty, and civilisa- tion shall not have been known, as those that are in store for our libe- rated Erin. There will be a — The Ambassa- as dors of the foreign Powers will bring their suites and their splendours to the Court of the Republic. The nobility will flock back in crowds to our deserted squares. Irish poplin will rise in price to ten shillings a yard, so vast will be the demand for that web by the ladies of our city. Irish diamonds will reach the price of the inferior Golcondaarticle. Irish linen and shirtings will rise immensely, Indeed, all Lrish produce, not being depreciated by the ruinous competition for gold, will augment in value. Debt at home, and absenteeism, have been the curses of our country. Henceforth there shall be no absenteeism, and no debt. He who refuses to live amongst us is not of us—the soil is for the inhabitants of the soil. : I have already, my dear friends, instructed you in the manner in which every one of you may get a cheap and handsome property for himself, viz., by holding possession of that which you at present occupy. For, as every man has an indefeasible right to subsistence, and as Nature roduces for the good of all, it is manifestly right that the many should | fave the possession, and not the few. If a landlord should object to this arrangement (who is but a mere accident on the face of the earth), for the love of God, boys, get rifles and blow his brains out. It is much better that a few landlords should perish, and their families (who have been living on the fat of the land hitherto, and may therefore take a turn of ill fortune) should starve, than that multitudes should die of want. _ And thus the curse of quarter-day will be removed at once from this island: and after a very little necessary slaughter. For depend uponit, that when two or three landlords have been served in the way recom- mended by me, the rest will not care to be pressing for rents. The butchers who govern us instituted the system of hanging for this very reason: arguing, that one example before Kilmainham deterred numbers of waverers; and we may be sure that the rifle, rightly employed, will act upon an aristocrat just as well as upon a housebreaker ; for, are not men men, whether clad in Saxon ermine, or in the rude frieze-coats of our miserable fatherland? Out with your rifles, boys, in the name of humanity. They say that the property of Ireland is mortgaged in a great degree, and for the most part to the brutal Saxon shopkeepers and pedlars. You will have the advantage of getting your land entirely free; there will be no manacle of debt to weigh down the free arms which are henceforth to till the beloved soil of our country. And, the land being unencumbered, you will have the farther advan- tage of being able to invite capitalists to aid you with money to conduct the operations of agriculture. Glorious America, which sympathises with you sincerely, will be much more ready to lend its — upon unencumbered, than on encumbered rage And we shall negotiate loans in her magnificent commercial cities, where I have no doubt there will be a noble emulation to come to the aid of a free Irish nation. The idea of sending cattle and pigs to England, to feed Saxon ruffians, is then to be scouted henceforth by all honest Irishmen. We will consume our own beef and pork by our own firesides, There is enough live-stock in this island to give every regenerate Irishman good meals of meat for the next year ensuing; and our lands, notoriously the greenest and most fertile in the world, will have fed up a similar | Only dilettanti go about picking and choosing. pon and his mi-|cowards. Brave men are always armed. | have already given; we could quantity by the year 1850. Thus, we shall never want henceforth; and, | while we fatten and flourish, we shall see the Saxon enemy decay. | And, as the beef-fed scoundrels cannot live upon cotton and hardware, we shall have the satisfaction of reducing the prices of those com- modities, and getting them at a much more reasonable rate than that at which the accursed money-mongers now vend them, | FROM THE “UNITED IRISHWOMAN.” THE DUTIES OF OUR WOMEN. In the coming time the weapon nearest at hand is always the cheapest. Shillyshallyers are Brave men and brave women, a few suggestions to housekeepers we supply thousands more. There is no better weapon, for instance, than one which is to be found in every house in the refined quarter of the metropolis. A grand piano | sent down upon a troop of hussars will play such a sonata over their heads as the scoundrels never marched off to. A chimney-glass is a rare thing for smashing. I should not like to be the Saxon assassin upon whom some white-armed girl of Erin flung it. Pokers and tongs everybody will know the use of. A cut-steel fencer is an awkward thing for a dragoon to ride over. A guardsman won’t look well with a copper coal-scuttle for a helmet. Ladies’ linen vill make the best of lint. A laced handkerchief tied round a wounded warrior’s brow will be well bestowed. I have seen a servant in college knocked down by a glossy boot, ever so slight, of varnished leather : if a footman, why not a private soldier? Have at him, ladies, from the bedroom windows. Your husbands will be away yonder at the barricades. : | A hot saddle of mutton, flung by cook into the face of a bawling | Saxon Colonel, will silence him; send the dish-cover with it; or at tea time try him with the silver tea-urn. Our wife has one. She longs for an opportunity to fling it, heater and all, into a Saxon face. _ Besides the bottle-rack, the use of which and its contents are evident, your husband will leave the keys of the cellar with you, and you know what to do. Old port makes excellent grape-shot; and I don’t know any better use which you can make of a magnum of Latouche than to | floor an Englishman with it. Have at them with all the glasses in your house, the china, the decanters, the lamps, and the cut-glass chandelier. eae _. A good large cheese would be found rather indigestible by a Saxon, if dropped on his nose from a second story. And the childrens’ wash- ing tub artfully administered may do execution. Recollect, it is a tub to catch a whale. . There is a lady in Leeson Street who vows to fling her Angola cat and her pet spaniel at the military while engaged there. The cat may escape, (and it is not the first time the Saxon ruffians have tasted its claws). The Blenheim cost her twenty-five guineas. She will give , that or anything else for her country. | The water-pipes will be excellent things to tear up and launch at the | enemy. They may make a slop in the house at first, but the mains and ; the gas will be let off. The ruffians shall fight us if they dare, in dark- ness and drought. You will of course empty the china-closets on the rascals, and all the bed-room foot-baths and washing-basins. Have them ready, and the one of drawers balancing on the window-sills. Send those after them too. And if any coward Saxon bullet pierces the fair bosom of a maid or a wife of Erin, may the curses of Heaven light on the butcherly dastard! | May the pikes of Erin quiver in his writhing heart, the bullets of Erin | whirl through his screaming eyeballs! May his orphans perish howling, and his true love laugh over his grave! May his sister’s fair fame be | blighted, and his grandmother held up to scorn! May remorse fang | him like a ban-dog, and cowardice whip him like a slave! May life weary him! death dishonour, and futurity punish him! Liar Saxon! ruffian Saxon! coward Saxon! bloody Saxon! The gentle and the pure defy ye, and spit on ye! A Bit of True Philosophy. How beautiful is the saying that “we should always hope for the best, and be prepared for the worst!” For our own 8 we never enter a grocer’s to get our weekly ounce and a half of seven shilling mixed tea without being animated by the advice of the moralist, who tells us to “ hope for the best, and be prepared for the worst.” PARISIAN FASHIONS FOR APRIL. Mos caps without crowns are much in fashion. Large bustles are also greatly in vogue, and threaten, if they increase, to block up the — thoroughfares. There is not a JOINVILLE tie to be seen any- where. VOL, XIV. Q

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL THE STUPID ART OF PROPHESYING. HERE is nothing so easy, probably, excepting bor- rowing yo as prophesying. A child may do it. You have only to be as vague as possible, and to steer clear of dates—excepting on a very liberal scale —and your prophecies are sure to come true. A prophecy, to be true, however, need not all of it be realised. If a part, a tenth, or ever so small a frag- ment of it happens, by the game of chances to turn up a trump, you are a recognised prophet, and allowed to deal in prophecies for ever afterwards. .. The best way is to make a number of prophecies at ‘\\ the same time. If one out of a thousand be correct / the nine hundred and ninety-nine bad ones are all / forgotten, and the thousandth good one only remem- bered. Still, a little nog should be at the bottom of every prophecy. Thus, to prophesy a Revolution in France, or that it will rain at Man- chester to-morrow, or that the next Art-Union engraving will not be a good one, are remarkably safe prophecies. With the above license, anybody can start as a prophet, and, in the teeth of the old proverb, even be acknowledged as one in his own country. We subjoin a list of prophecies, for the use of those who have a talent that way. The dates, of course, can be supplied according to the taste of the particular prophet. “Something very wonderful, of more than an usual interest, will occur one the first month of the National Assembly. “ Several Irishmen will be taken up on St. Patrick’s day, and fined five shillings.” “ There will be a high tide at London Bridge in the ensuing twelve- month, which will surpass the recollection of the oldest waterman.” “We have consulted the stars, and can fearlessly state that the divi- dend of the shareholders of the Thames Tunnel will be this year exactly the same as the last.” “The Duke or CAMBRIDGE presides at a public dinner, and returns thanks for the ‘ Royal Family.’ ” “A new hat is invented for the British Infantry in the ensuing autumn, which excites the greatest ridicule.” “The farmers complain loudly of the badness of the season.” “A King abdicates, and taxes refuge in England.” “The Royal Academy opens on the first Monday in May, and crowds collect round the ‘ Portrait of a Gentleman.’ ” THE “TREE OF LIBERTY.” WE are glad to find there is at last some abatement of the melancholy folly of planting Trees of Liberty in Paris, with the accompanying mockery of forcing every one in the neighbourhood to light up—whether he liked it or not—in celebration of the establishment of Freedom. It is impossible to say how many poplars—for the “ Tree of Liberty ” is only a poplar after all—have been sacrificed to the triumph of pop’lar principles. Wherever one of these members of the leafy tribe is visible, it is hable to be dragged off root and branch to some open space, and stuck up in a hole, amidst the letting off of crackers, the firmg of guns, and the shouts of “ Vive la République ;” or at least such was the case until a few days ago, when a proclamation against such mummeries was issued by the Provisional Government. [f the official prohibition should fail of its intended effect, perhaps the following lines from us may be received in a proper spirit. They are suggested by the well-known song— WOODMAN, SPARE THAT TREE. Frenchman, spare that tree, Its roots lie very low; You ’d better let it be— Elsewhere ’twill never grow. Though it may nobly thrive, If tranquil it could stay, *T will never keep alive If rudely torn away. If Freedom, newly won, You to that tree compare, Tis, when all’s said and done, A very poor affair. Upon the soil beneath t hath no hold at all; Stirred by the slightest breath, Its leaves, all withered, fall. Vitality, to-day, Within it there may be, It perishes when moved away— So, Frenchman, spare that tree. “There is every certainty that Tacuion1 will take her last farewell from the British Stage this and the ensuing twelve years.” “Mr. Cocnrane presides at a public meeting, and several pocket- handkerchiefs are missed.” “The following warning is publicly exhibited in July, about the walls of London—‘ Bit Stickers, Beware!’” We think the above are sufficient to prove how extremely easy is the trade of the ZapKrets, and the Rapuagts, and the NostRADAMUSES, and the various nincompoops who ply their prophecies, plain and coloured, from a penny to half-a-crown. We would wager to prophecy | everything that occurred for the next hundred years, if we are only | allowed to explain, that is to say, to prove, our prophecies after the | events have occurred. 1 (DOWN AGA TO FI ee | A MODEL HIEROGLYPHIC WITH SURE PROPHECIES FOR THE NEXT HUNDRED YEARS, PERSONS MISSING. Tue following persons, unless they shortly spring up, will be | advertised by their disconsolate parties, and handsome rewards offered for information of their whereabouts :— _ DisRaE 1, last heard of at an election dinner in Buckingham- shire. Lorp BroveHaw, supposed to be in France. Lorp Patmerston, suddenly disappeared since Mr. CaisHoLm AnsTey’s Motion. The Krve or Bavaria, reported to be secreted by a person calling herself Lota Montes Lorp GeorGE Bentinck, formerly at the head of a party which has not been heard of since last: session. Several Kings, Princes, and Ministers are also missing; but, as their affairs are no affairs of ours, we shall leave them alone in their glory, if they have any, and let those find them out who want them. The German Pipe of Liberty. Amonc other things,” says the Times, “the Germans have conquered by Revolution, is the right of smoking in the streets.” Thus walks abroad in Germany not only uplifting her head and unfolding her banner, but also smoking her pipe. The Teutonic Goddess of Freedom should be represented in a student’s cap, with a meerschaum in her mouth. Our imagination glows with an ideal picture of Liberty behind a pipe. The natural consequence of being free as the wind is the potentiality of blowing acloud. But as there is really much room for reform in Germany, we hope this is merely “the beginning of the end ” of the popular movement in that country. We rejoice to see German | freedom commencing in smoke, but shall be sorry to behold it terminate where it has begun. FALSE REPORT. WE are authorised to state, that there is no foundation for the malicious rumour that the Postmen have determined to demand a republic of letters. Their allegiance to the QuEEN’s Head proves them to be men of the most loyal stamp. ! Liberty | ete D> oD es oO aoa ado 1 few atrarnd so ad

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARILI. 155 “REGISTER! REGISTER! REGISTER!” HEN Sir Ropert Pret made W use of the above memorable words ‘ he never meant the advice, we are sure, to apply to tailors, hosiers, hatters, and the whole Directory of quacks and trades- —~ men. The test of merit, now- __. a-days, does not seem to consist ey _— —~— in the article itself, but in the — _— fact of its being “ registered.” pen Si ale Your shirt must be registered ; that is indispensable, or else it could not be a shirt. Your frock coat must go through the same ordeal, and your hat also, or else the one would instinctively jump off your back, and the other indignantly fly away from your head. The same rule applies to your boots, your flannel waistcoat, your straps, your shirt-collar —in short, a man, to be in the-fashion at the present day, must be “ regis- tered” from the top of his wig, or the crown of his hat, down to the very sole of his boots. Would it not be a shorter plan to start a) General Registration Office, at which persons so inclined might | register themselves altogether, instead of every limb of their body being obliged, as at present, to undergo a separate registration ? By the bye, male apparel is much more subjected to this test of excellence t: female. We do not know why, unless, in dress as in politics, ladies are not entitled to the blessings of registration. _ As yet it is confined to tradesmen, and Lrish patriots, who register a vow in the same way that a tailor would a “wrap-rascal.” If the mania should increase, we shall be having Jenny Linp registering her voice, Fiona Fass her steps, Gustavus BRaooxe his O¢hel/o, BARON Natuan his eggs, Punch his jokes, and other inimitable specialities by far too numerous to mention. Our cry to the commercial and artistic world is, “Don’t Register! Don’t Register! Don’t Register!” THE POLITICAL APHIS AND THE BOROUGH ROT. (By our own Smee.) one benefit, however, by this system of international robbery; for English society will not be so absurdly caricatured on the French stage, if French authors will only take the representations of Englishmen instead of inventing their own. ‘This may, in time, lead to. the abolition of all the public sales of English wives at Smithfield, which have been carried on at the Ambigu, Gaité, and Porte St. Martin, lately, to the most bar- barous extent, THE AERIAL MAIL. WE are informed that when Raperski occupied the gates of Milan, and thus commanded the town, the people within kept up a corres- ondence with the country without by means of little balloons conveying etters. This mode of epistolary communication is so analogous to the celebrated Long Range, that it might be described as a species of WARNER correspondence. We would put it to Mr. Rowzanp Hii whether the notion of an aérial mail-bag might not be adopted in this country. All that would be necessary would be to have the letter-bag attached by way of car to a balloon; a link of the connecting medium to be composed of a cartridge, which shall be exploded by a fusee cal- culated to burn according to the distance from a given point to a given Post-Office. On the explosion of the cartridge, the bag would drop plump down through the office skylight, just as certainly as the WARNER shell through the gangway of a man-of-war. THE LAST DAYS OF LONDON. In these days of revolution, when we do not know whether Europe stands on its head or its heels, we thought England stood pretty firm, and that nothing would shake London but an earthquake. Fancy then, how startled we were to read the following announcement, which has been liberally placarded the last two weeks about the walls of the metropolis ! Ah! thought we, there will not be a quiet spot in the world shortly, excepting in the heart of the Desert, or on the top of the North Pole. Imagine our horror on reading the intimation of the “FINAL REMOVAL OF LONDON BY NIGHT!” If it frightened us, standing upright in Long Acre, with brick-and- Our tubers have scarcely recovered from the disease which destroyed the food of millions, when we find the same pestilent scourge attacking the roots of our political system. The Harwich and other Election Committees have proved that though the rot has departed from the otatoes, it is now devastating the boroughs. The cause of this national | light may be traced to the ravages of an insect, which may be called the Aphis Senator. This creature is furnished with antenna, or feelers, which it extends in all directions where it is capable of exercising its corrupt influence. It has at its sides a kind of pouches or bags, which are the instruments of its noxious agency. A few of these aphides have been dislodged from their boroughs; but their number is inconsider- able in comparison with those that remain, infesting the Tree of the British Constitution, and tainting the very cockles of the, heart of the British Oak. Good Exchange. Tue StaBLe Minp has not been heard of for months past. It has quite broken down, or cut and run. The only thing which is now occupying the minds of the public is the “ Constante Minp.” Of the two, we think the latter will produce the stronger staff and make the better stand. They are both unanimous, however, about “ Protection,’ and neither of them, we think, is anxious to repeal a single duty. Their ardour is united in upholding the Customs of their country. Every man, it is said, has his “speciality.” An Englishman’s apparently is to | be a special constable, when the public order is attacked. duty over disciplined minds has never been so strongly evinced as recently, when it was a matter of difficulty to put truncheons into the thousands of hands that were burning to grasp them. Robbery by a Gentleman of Talent and Fortune. Tue French dramatists are beginning to retaliate on the English translators. Scrree has had all his pieces borrowed—and never im- proved in the borrowing—for the English stage. He is now beginning to help himself to the British Drama. His first loan has been La Nutt de Noél, the plot of which is taken from a piece performed some six years ago at Mapame Vesrris’s, called S¢. Mark’s ve. We are astonished at this—for we should have as soon suspected RoTHscHILD of petty larceny as Scrise of translating: but we mention the fact to show that the thieving is not all on this side of the Channel. One rob- bery certainly does not justify another; still, it is a comfort to think that, poor as our Drama is, it cannot be so very reduced, since the first drama- tist of France is not above picking a little piece out of it. We shall gain The power of | t mortar contradictions of the fact surrounding us on every side, what |effect must it not have had upon the quiet people of the country, who | only saw it in the advertisements! We can imagine the flocks of old {women who would scramble to the nearest Electric Telegraph to | inquire into the fact. They would have horrible visions of JoINVILLE | invading London, and towing it off in the dead of night to the Brazils, | or else the Provisional Government proving their Fraternité by making the metropolis a /aubourg of Paris, and its peaceful inhabitants cé/oyens of the most civilised country in the world. We are happy to set all these fears at rest. London remains exactly where it has ever been |since the days of the Oldest Inhabitant; and, though they say one removal is as bad as two fires, we have not heard of any damage done in any parish in consequence of the removal so terribly announced above. It refers to the Picture of London which has been going the round of the Colosseum for the last two years. It left Albany Street in a one-horse cart a fortnight ago, and Paris is now being: built on its ruins. French emigrants will thus have an opportunity of dwelling once more in their native town, and of weeping over the palaces they were not clever enough to keep. We think that most persons will prefer visiting the copy to the original, just at present. English artisans may visit it in safety, as there is not a single bayonet kept on the premises, Union is Strength. Amonc the new dancers at the Italian Opera, Covent Garden, is a MapvemoiseLLe Tuiery. Her débit is spoken of favourably by our crotchetty and demi-semi-quavery friend, the Musical World; but it seems to us that in order to achieve perfection, THIERY must have | plenty of practice. (Query—ZIs this Theory ?)

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156 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI

al eer Mis “ y Wl) Zu) hl. be <2) SF, Pa Ze Za i CONSOLS AT 90. Husband. “Wett! I pectare I’m Quite GLAD 1T’s A wet pay. It

SSS Ss SSS SSS = -

CONSOLS AT 80. Husband. “Go out ror a WALK! Nonsense! I’ve SOMETHING ELSE WILL BE AN EXCUSE TO STOP AT HOME WITH MY DARLING LITTLE PIPSEY|TO DO. I THINK, TOO, YOU MIGHT PULL DOWN THAT BLIND, UNLESS YOU popsy. Wuat po you sar, Dickey? En? pretty Dick! PRETTY | WANT THE SUN TO SPOIL ALL THE FURNITURE} AND, DEAR, DEAR, DO FOR Dick |!”

CANARY OUT OF THE ROOM !”

GOODNESS SAKE, JEMIMA, TAKE THAT D

A HINT FOR EXETER HALL. A week or two, and pilgrims from all parts of England will gather at Exeter Hall. There, in their comprehensive benevolence, they wil plead the cause of the heathen, and subscribe, with all their hearts and all their pockets, for the conversion of infidels of all colours. This is, no doubt, very praiseworthy in its meaning; but may it not be a little absurd in its affect ? For our own part, we think that Exeter Hall is a little too apt to search for distant wretchedness, with a telescope ; forgetting the misery that lies at its very feet. A night or two since, Mr. Giapstone quoted a letter from the late Dr. Cuatmers to the Bisnor or Lonpon. Here it is:— ** Beware, above all things, of scattering your resources over too large a surface; if you have 50,000 destitute people in a district, and } can send only two clergymen among them, beware of confiding this large number of people to those two clergymen. Take a small and manageable number of the people, and give each clergyman a district in which pecan operate ; be content with doing a little work at a time, and with doing it properly. Upon this, Pusch writes to the zealous of Exeter Hall :— “Beware, above all things, of scattering your resources over the whole globe. If you have some three or four hundred millions of the heathen in the werld, and you can only send five hundred clergymen (with New Testaments to scatter) among them, beware of confiding the three or four hundred millions to those five hundred clergymen. Take Spitalfields, or Manchester, er Sheffield, or the filthy places of Liverpool, and give to a division of each place a clergyman; give him a home parish in which he can operate, and not a foreign island. Be con- tent with doing alittle at a time, and doing it properly ; namely, convert St. Giles’s to true Christianity, to temperance and cleanliness, and let Timbuctoo, for the time, take care of itself.” And this is the advice of Pusch to the pilgrims of Exeter Hall.

Tue}PRESENT GOVERNMENT OF ENGLAND.—The Special Constabulary.

CHARITY AND PIKES. The Diabolical Instigator, better known as the United Irishman, in an ll article under the head of “Our War Department,” declares that “there is no charitable donation like pikes for the poor.” Certainly, in one sense, there is no charitable donation which can be said to bear any resemblance whatever to pikes, whether for the poor or the rich; and thus it would seem that the United Irishman, lke the personage whose suggestions appear to actuate that periodical, can occasionally speak the truth. Such, however, we apprehend, is not exactly the meaning of the organ of Mr. Mitcuett. The English put food into the stomachs of the Irish poor, which was rather charitable; but to ut pikes into their hands would be more charitable, according to our endish contemporary. The United Irishman would have the poor Irish pike the English people for relieving them, pierce them with steel for having been penetrated towards themselves with compassion. Its demoniacal axiom might have been more clearly worded thus :—“‘ There is no return for a charitable donation to the poor so grateful as—the thrust of a pike.”

Better Security of the Constitution. Wuen Sm Georce Grey gave notice that he should move to bring in a Bill for the better security of the Constitution, we learn that very many pensioners and sinecurists, believing—naturally enough—that the measure was levelled at their plunder, called a private meeting of them- selves to defeat the Bill. Buttoning their pockets, they one and all exclaimed, “ No surrender!”

IMPORTANT NEWS FROM HAMBURG. Tue Krxe or Prussta’s barber has applied for an increase of salary, owing to augmentation of work, caused by the length of His Majesty’s face.

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NOT SO VERY UNREASONABLE!!! EH? John. “My Misrress says SHE HOPES you won’T CALL A MEETING oF HER CREDITORS ; BUT 1F YOU WILL LEAVE YOUR BILL IN THE USUAL WAY, IT SHALL BE PROPERLY ATTENDED TO.”

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 159

CASSEROLE. mr,—Mouc# is said, at this momentous crisis, of the prob- able political consequences of the French Revolution. Im- portant as these may be, what are the political results of such an event to the culi- Py me have little hesitation in stating that the art of cook- ery is, at this moment, at an end in France! “Tt is easyto improvise a Provisional Government ; but where is the genius that can improvise a provisional cook- ery-book, adapted to the new posture of affairs ? “Tt will not do to re- christen the old plats. A Z publican palate would de- _ tect the royalism of a cdtelette , &@ la Maintenon under the ; title of a cételette a la Robes- y. pierre, and tear off the thin ~.. disguise of such an envelope < ‘with disdain. = “The cuisine of France is profoundly and _ essentially = royalist. Its Augustan age was the reign of Louis Qua- TORZE, and VATEL is_ its Its first stage of Imperial decay was the corrupt but culinary era of the Regency, with its petits soupers. The whole art is indelibly impressed with the reminiscences of this period. * Republican France cannot accept the petit plats of a Bourbon chef, or the Aors-d’euvres of an Imperial cordon bleu. She demands a cuisine de la République ; chaste as Liberty, simple as Equality, and harmonious as Fraternity! I look in vain for the artiste who is to create this new and noble school. “Carte might have been equal to the emergency; but alas! he is departed to that region in which alone his own delicacies can be sur- passed. Ube was ambitious enough to have attempted it, but he was essentially an aristocrat, could not really create out of a ducal kitchen. There is one man inthis country—I may say in the world— whose genius has already comprehended ‘the ‘mission of the cook of the nineteenth century. Need hint at the great inventor of the potage a la Peuple, the consommé & la Communiste, the soupe Sociale—whose con- | ceptions have already swept over St. George’s Channel, and arrested the spread of Irish discontent ? “The Hour is come, and he is the Man. Unfortunately, England claims his services. Devoted to the sacred duties of the missionary, spreading the light of his beneficial and beautiful science amongst the barbarians @’outremer, he is divided from his beloved country at this moment of culinary anarchy. Alas for France! Her government has ever risen and fallen with her cuisine, When the latter is disorganised, how can the former prosper ? * Reform Club.” A CRY FROM THE

Octavius. * Soyer.”

Questions for anybody who chooses to answer them. How do the French now deal with their playing-cards? Do they still retain the kings and queens, or are ~~ thrown out of the pack, according to the game now being played throughout Europe? What do they substitute for the kings and queens ?—a greater proportion of knaves? or clubs? or what? . At Paris, at all events, the clubs seem to win everything, and to make what game they please; but the game is one so completely of chance, that it would be the greatest gambling to speculate upon what would be the turn-up to-morrow. As far as the game has gone hitherto, honours do not count, excepting LAMARTINE, who is certainly a great card, and has proved himself in every instance a trump, though he has had to play against such shocking bad hands that any one else would have thrown them up.

‘A PHILANTHROPIST. A GENTLEMAN who, we request to state, was a bachelor, has left the munificent sum of £3000 for the invention of a shirt without buttons /

How to InvapE Enetanp.—Come as an exile, and not an arm will be raised against you. Punch’s Maxims HMoralised. 30.—Fortune knocks once at least at every man’s door. Prrnaprs it does ; but there are many who have no sooner gone to open the door, than they find the knock proceeded from a runaway. 31.—For want of company, welcome trumpery. This is a maxim well adapted for the manager of a theatre, who, being unable to engage a good company, resorts to show and other ‘trumpery to supply its place. 32.—He is a wise man who speaks litile. ‘ Lae then, alas! is the wisdom of the House of Commons to be ound ? 33.— He that will steal an egg will steal an ox. Undoubtedly he will, if, after stealing an egg, he should find an ox under the yolk. 34.—It is no small conquest to overcome yourself.’ If this be true, you are never so triumphant as when you have regularly knocked yourself up. 35.—Keep your tongue within your teeth. _This is not always advisable, for you may occasionally find yourself bitten by your own over-caution. 36.—Let the cobbler stick to his last. _ He ought to do so; and indeed his last ought to be his first con- sideration. 37.—Light come, light go. This maxim would have made an excellent motto for Wimpusn’s omnibus, whose only passenger always got in after the vehicle started, and got out before it stopped.

AN ALLEGORICAL GENTLEMAN IN DIFFICULTIES. Lo, yonder Liberty, torch in hand, is kindling her glorious flare-up over the Continent. See, Fraternity, is cementing the hearts of Europe in one brotherhood. Behold, Equality, with extensive survey, is reducing the nations beneath her dumpy level. How | spirit-stirring, how exciting is the view! But amid the scene of | transport and enthusiasm, what form is that so lengthy of visage, so | dejected and woe-begone of aspect ? What being is it, so stationary amid | the general commotion? Who is it, the dull, the flat, the heavy ? | Alas! it is Business, oppressed by Panic, paralysed by Dismay, the offspring of Hubbub. It is Business at a stand-still, with his hands in his pockets, because he is afraid to employ them. It is Business pining for his absent mate, Quiet, scared by Confusion. Good people, the reign of Rumpus has lasted long enough; begin to listen to the voice of Order. Restore Quiet to the bosom of her beloved, and suffer Business to go about himself !

The Royal Academy. In the Zimes, an “ Admirer of the Fine Arts” asks the R.A.’s to turn the Octagon Apartment, during the coming exhibition, into “a refreshment-room.” Punch backs the request. Old Fuse used to say to his servant, “ Bring me my umbrella; I’m going to look at Mr. ConsTABLE’s pictures.” Thus, the visitor may observe—“ Please to favour me with an ice; I’m going to take a peep at TURNER.” SOMETHING NEW AT LAST. WE wager we have seen something which has never yet been seen by a pair of mortal eyes. We were eating a bun at the time, and involuntarily dropt it from surprise. This sacrifice was occasioned by a Special Constable appearing suddenly at the door. He was attired in the garb of a Quaker !!!!

Irish Angling. Mr. Mitcnett angling for martyrdom does not realise the John- sonian picture of a fisherman. There is not the worm at one end, and the fool at the other. Nevertheless, the angling is peculiarly Irish, inasmuch as MITCHELL, to catch gudgeons, baits with—a pike! . Specrat.—The promoters of riot call the friends of peace and quiet- ness “ THE ConsTaBLe’s MISCELLANY.” Great Fact.—When a good measure is introduced to the House of Commons the Ministry are always sure to carry it out.

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160 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. THE ANTI-ENGLISH MOVEMENT IN FRANCE. FOE 38500. 1 ! ; BHR EELD » o, “ ; =~. fhe A es Tee Tae Anti-English - | SN" WAS peeve | = feeling in France has, eT 4 ' we understand, ex- A a tended to the Canine ve Species, among whom it seems more appro- | priate than when exhibited by human beings rofessing an attachment to the cause of iberty, Equality, and Fraternity. We have heard that several Parisian poodles have regis- tered a (bow) wow to exterminate all the Bouledogues — anglicé, bull-dogs—found on French soil, and an influential British cur has — been walking about the boulevards with a placard tied to his tail, | off to Belgium the whole of our Brussels sprouts, and exterminating, as complaining of the rights of hospitality having been cruelly cur-tailed. | a Jerusalem pony, every donkey we happened to come across. There would be no end to the modes of developing this narrow spirit in| We are glad, however, to see that this ill feeling towards anything greeny conatey if it were to be carried out, and we might begin in| British in France has at last gone to the dogs, where we trust it England by hunting out all the Welsh rabbits from our shores, packing | will remain. THE COLD WATER CURE. We never had so much reason to admire the efficacy and appropriate- , quenched in a most unexpected manner. The French orator, poet, and ness of this prescription, as in its application to the disease of red-hot | statesman, deserves the thanks of Europe, and, indeed, of humanity at rebellion, in a case where M. pe Lamartine administered the cold-| large, for the unmistakeable hint he has given, that Mr. Smita water cure with wondrous effect to the rabid Irish deputation, who O’Brien, or any other foreign rebel, is a proper goose if he expects to went over to Paris thirsting for fraternity, and who got their thirst | find in France any disposition towards propagander. | ZAPATA 3 ee mT i i -\) Biiclolu! LaMmaktTine RECEIVING THE Irisu DeErutation. Payment for Parliament. Clearing up a Mistake. Onze of the five points of the Charter is the payment of Members of “SHRUBLAND Roap” has written us a most pathetic appeal. In one Parliament. We do not know that this plan may not be better than | of our late Numbers we said it was a most aqueous neighbourhood, only that of Members of Parliament paying themselves, as is supposed to be, | fit fer Oxzdine to pass the honeymoon in, or something to that effect. pretty generally, the present arrangement. But how is it proposed that | However, “Shrubland Road” assures us we were mistaken, and we are they should be paid? If at so much per annum, this would be making | willing for its sake to believe it. The roads about Dalston are so clean, no difference hetween the idle and industrious Members; and a LEADER | that the purest white satin might walk up and down them for hours and would get as much as a JosepH Hume, which would be unjust. If at|not be defiled bya single dab of mud. The paths are as dry as a captain’s so much per speech, in proportion to its length, we should a longer | biscuit. The sewers are models for the Sanitary Commission, and the speeches in Parliament than ever, which would be a bore. It is manifest | whole neighbourhood such a perfect Paradise that we can safely say, that they should be paid for doing, not for talking; and this would |if we did not live in No. 85, Fleet Street, we would willingly reside in amount to paying them by the job; in which case the job-work ought | the Shrubland Roads. to be considerably more creditable than what has hitherto been performed by Honourable Members. The Wisdom of Parliament. Tue Times, discoursing of what constitutes treason in England, and what does not constitute it in Ireland, says :— A NEW MANTLE. “In England the intention, if evidenced merely by uttering or writing what directly M. Quérarp has written a book on literary forgeries, in which | tends to treason, is itself treasonable. The act of Gzonex IIL, under which treason is 80 M. Dumas is turned inside out like a Paris glove. We see a cloak has | mstTued, does not extend to Ireland.” just come out called the “‘ Monte Christo!” Ladies, beware. Afterthe| Here is wisdom of Parliament! This is as if it were unlawful to exposure of M. Dumas, the Monte Christo cloak can only be considered explode fire-works in any part of Hex Masgsty’s dominions, except in a cloak to steal under. | such parts as should be in the neighbourhood of a powder-mill. Sege a6. aes fee te.

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 161 | the memory of the triumph of the people REFORM YOUR FLAGS. As continental potentates have been compelled to dispose of much of their prerogative at an alarming sacrifice, Punch has to propose to the nations in general—England and America, of course, excepted—a total reform of their flags. e think that the ensign of the country ought to bear in its field some object significant of the tremendous change. We 7 not, neither do we propose, to alter the fisg of France. Lamartine’s eloquence woul again prevail as it prevailed before. So we will start with Austria. We propose, then, to utterly abolish the Eagle, as quite unfit for the reduced circumstances of the em- peror himself; whilst we would perpetuate over FERDINAND, whose goose, to speak in the popular idiom, was cooked so very brown in the streets of Vienna. We therefore propose that the flag—we care not for the colours—should contain a Goose |) and Gridiron; and herewith make the Austrian Government a handsome present of the requisite design. And next for Prussia. In token of the freedom of the Press, two Tron Pens and a broken Bayonet. Some- € thing after this fashion. !| Nor shall the heroic Lota Montez be :, forgotten. It is the hard fate of reformers to be most persecuted even when most benevolent. To Lota the Bavarians owe everything. With her, it may be said, they have had every freedom. Shall she, then, be unrecompensed? No. Albeit the po- ulace would have torn the jigurante to Cite, we cannot forget that she has helped to regenerate Bavaria. With her lady’s fan she “brained” the Jesuits. Had she lived in the ancient day, her bull-dog would ,, have been placed among the constellations ' with Srrtus, and not travelled in pieces through Europe, disguised in exotic sausages. Lota cut the bonds of the press as they were no more than a silken stay- lace. Lota, like a true woman, intro- i | SS = ee es v duced into the state the freedom of speech Lota has deserved well of the country that has ungratefully translated her from German tak te Spanish; and Lora shall be recompensed. For we do not believe the rumour that Louis, the ex-king, re- solves to follow the syren to Sicily. (Loxa in Sicily! Loxa in the country of tna! hat a monopoly of _brim- stone!) We do not believe that Louis took off his crown only to put on a shep- herd’s hat; and that he is now taking lessons on an oaten pipe to play all sorts of pastorals. These are rumours; but the patriotic doings of Loza, some time Countess or LaNDSFELDT, are facts : and—for the gratitude of future Bavaria—we would have them typified in her flag. , y What say ye, Bavarians, to this—a double-barrelled opera-glass, and a pair of castanets ? Irish Price Current. (From Messzs. MitcHELL AND MEAGHER’s Patriotic Trade Cireular.) £sd A nice handy Rifle _ — a ke ce ae ee APike . ‘ . " i ‘ “ 10 A Pike with a six-foot shaft — . . 110 A Soythe - [+ a ee pS ee (no returns.) Pawing-stones, swordsticks, sledge-hammers, bludgeons, dc., at the lowest possible prices. ** & REDUCTION ON TAKING A QUANTITY. CRUEL IRONY. Tue “rebels” who seized Me1TERNICH’s domain of Johannisherg, containing a stand of some 1,000,000 bottles of glorious wine, have had the cruelty to send to the expatriated Prince—a corkscrew ! The Claremont Court Circular. Tue Morning Post will not let Louts-Puitirrr, Comte pE NEvrity, alone. The Count wishes to be-quiet and unobserved; nevertheless, the Post insists upon making his late Majesty walk in print, for the curiosity and amusement of Post beholders. Post! Post/ leave the old man to solitude and silence. **No farther seek his merits to disclose, Or draw his frailties from their dread abode.” France has, weeks since, forgotten him; why should England be told of his daily doings? France so entirely wishes to let the ex-king lapse into oblivion, that she treats with marked coldness the exhumation of Robert Macaire, dug up to swindle and grimace at the Porte St. Martin. France says—by this indifference— We have got rid of the prototype, we will not be annoyed by the resurrection of the imitator.” Englan affords hospitality to the exile; she can do no less. Therefore, let England’s penny-a-liners respect the solitude of a penitent old man. ‘©The Count ond Courrrss or Nevitty, with the members of their family circle, remain in the strictest retirement at Claremont. Nothing can possibly exceed the plain and unostentatious manner in which the household is ordered, the most rigid economy being cbservable in all its arrangements.” They remain in strictest retirement ; nevertheless, Penny-a-liner will make his few groats by dragging them into print. They economise, and the virtue is published that the chronicler may earn his two-pence by the history of the heroic fact. *‘ The Count and Countess go out very little. The Count generally rides in a close carriage on his way to and from the railway station, and evidently studies to avoid the appearance of any display.” But Penny-a-liner will not be thus baulked. Let the Count cesire to ride with the blinds down, Penny-a-liner wi/Z pull them up, to exhibit the Ex-King. Ex-Majesty “studies” to avoid the appearance of display,—and Penny-a-liner is equally resolved upon making money by making a show of the humility. Is it generous that Claremont, the last retreat of a fallen man, should be turned into a glass-house, and the “rigid economy” therein practised exhibited to all the world? TO R.A’s IN GENERAL AND ARTISTS IN PARTICULAR. WE beg, as a special favour, that there will be no pictures of the French Revolution in the next exhibition. We are already saturated with takings of the Tullieries, and the avalanche of furniture from the windows of the Palais Royal, and gentlemen with fancy whiskers and classic blouses doing duty as Garde Mobiles, and have had more barricades on paper than we shall be able to get over during the re- mainder of our lives. The illustrated papers have had the cream of these subjects, and they have whipped the cream by this time into the thinnest trifle. Besides, the Lorp CHAMBERLAIN forbade at the theatres all pieces upon the French Revolution. Artists, in the same way, should prohibit their brushes from mixing in scenes of fire, and smoke, and bloodshed. We hope Lovts-Puittrre, also, will be spared. There is Gil Blas, and the Vicar of Wakefield, and many other subjects which have not yet been sufficiently explored. All politics should be thrown into the shade, even a greater shade than that of the Octagon Room—that is to say, they should not be seen at the Royal Academy at all. An artist should paint history in the most neutral colours, and should canvass his subject well before he sends an exiled king to the wall. We hope the author of the Pleasures of Memory, (a MS. poem), will take these observations in friendly part, and send in his crop of “lobster salads ” this year, without any titles to them, for fear that they might be understood. By these means all mischief will be avoided, and the pictures will not lose anything in interest, as it will be easy enough to find titles for them after the exhibition is over. inding the Body of Harold will do very well for one of them. A Curious Patient. WE see a medical work advertised by “the Surgeon to the Bank of England.” We are aware that the Old Lady of Threadneedle Street was lately in a very bad state, but how far the surgeon relieved her, we cannot tell. There is one thing certain, he did not bleed her to a very great-extent. How does he feel the Old Lady’s pulse? We always believed that was the Steck Exchange; and the Surgeon must be a cunning fellow if he can take that in hand. The appointment isa curious one; and we should as soon have thought of an “ Apothecary to the Mint,” or of a ‘ Chemist to London Bridge,” as a “Surgeon to the Bank.” By the bye, if our Statues had had medical men to look after them instead of sculptors, the chances are, they would not look so bad as they do. But we doubt if even Sir Bensamin Bropre could save Trafalgar Square now, for it seems to be past all cure.

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. THE NEW CONTINENTAL COACH “ REVOLUTION.” THE FRENCH REPUBLIC AND THE FINE ARTS. (From Our Own Correspondent.) We are informed that M. Lamartine, the Minister for Foreign Affairs, has written the following important letter (how the copy was obtained, the reader will not have the bad manners to inquire) to the Spanish Ambassador at Paris :— a “ Paris, Hotel des Etrangers, April 10. ‘Your Excettency,—The Provisional Government of the Republic desires that its relations with all countries shall be those of highest houour, and most scrupulous honesty. Animated by these feelings, I have the satisfaction to’ acquaint your Excellency that MarsHaL Sout has received an order to place in the hands of your Excellency all the Spanish pictures brought by him from Spain in the days of the Empire, always excepting those pictures for which the Marshal can show a proper receipt, in full of all demands. “The Marshal has further received orders to hold himself in readiness | y to accompany the pictures to Spain, and to superintend their hanging in their old familiar places. pam “* Deign, your Excellency, to receive, &c., &c., His Excellency the Spanish Ambassador.” * LAMARTINE,” CONTEMPT OF THE COUNTY COURT. 4 Tue treatment of Mx. Pottetrt, lately brought f before the House of Commons, proves that inability to pay a debt amounts, by County Court Law, to contempt of Court, and is unishable in the same manner as petty ceny. We propose that, by way of warning to rsons on the brink of insolvency, the urt should be appropriately decorated, and that the judges of County Courts in passing sentence, should recite in full _ the particulars of the punishment to which that offence is liable. As, for instance :— “ Joun Tomxrns. After a full and patient investigation, you are convicted, to the satisfaction of a judge and jury of your country, of the heinous crime of Contempt of Court, in neglecting to pay a debt. You Can Ae wiiiiil are well aware that your inability to pay is no excuse. The sentence of the Court upon you is, that you be taken from this place to the House of Correction, and there be imprisoned, and kept to hard labour for five days. You shall be first conducted to pce tate a lock-up house, where your pockets must be unbuttoned, and your whole dress searched; and you shall not be suffered to open yourlips. A pint of oo shall be given you to drink, and a bit of dry bread to eat; and these materials shall form your diet during your imprisonment. Youare to sleep at night, under inspection, upon a low iron bedstead, with a bed of straw, three blankets, and a rug. At six in the morning you shall be compelled to take your bed and bed-clothes under your arm, and be paraded with rogues and vaga- bonds for half-an-hour around the prison-yard. ou shall next breakfast on bread and gruel ; and after that you shall be searched again. Thereupon you shall be taken, together with thieves and pick-pockets, and forced to strip and bathe with them in the’ same bath. When you come out, you shall be clad in coarse blue clothing, and your own dress shall be taken away from you. A ticket shall be sewn on your right arm and back; and, having poprparr or a “Poor DEBTOR.” suffered these indignities, you shall be set to work at the picking of oakum with a crew of the vilest ‘convicts. . But your punishment is not to end here: for your hair is to be cut off, and your whiskers are to be shaved close to your face; and, may your degra- dation be an example to all-others in your unfortunate circumstances.” The above is a literal description of the punishment inflicted on Mr. Poutett, for being unable to pay a debt of two:pounds.- The impres- siveness of the sentence of the County Court would be much enhanced were it thus delivered in detail—the judge, we may suggest, — on a black cap. The humanity and justice of County Court law would also be displayed advantageously to an enlightened public. Neverthe- less, we are afraid that such sentences will hardly operate to the suppression of the contempt of County Courts. Printed by William Bradbury, of No. 6, York Place, Stoke Newington, and Frederick Mullett Evans, of No.7, Church Row, Stoke Newington, both in the County of Middlesex, Printers, at their Office, in Lombard Street, im the Precinct of Whitefriars, in the City of London, and Published by them at No. 8, Fleet Street, in the Parishof St. Bride, in the City of London.—Sarvapar, Arai lth, 1848.

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL 163 THE GOTOBED LETTERS. FALLY it is henceforth a matter of military history—quite as much so as the investment of Paris—that on the 10th of April, 1848, a division of the —th regiment took up their quarters in the house of Mr. Peter Gotosep, stockbroker, Consol Place. That house commanded one of the bridges, by which it was expected— \ especially by the GoroBEep S family—that the rebellious mob would return into Middlesex and Westminster, to proclaim the Republic. The hopes and fears and final delight of the GorToBEDs may, perhaps, by a lively imagination be conceived; but sure we are they can never be wholly expressed, as the writers of the subjoined letters (to their relatives and intimates in the country) occasionally testify. Ve NY i | || 1// p \ 4 Bb , , } {ll If } £{\\h e777 | TT | hily : sii iii] I I RUA \ MAY — Mr. Peter Gotosep fo Mr. Laurence PouLTENEY. “My pear FRIEND, “Tr’s all over; and our glorious QuEEN sits tighter on the throne than ever. I knew you’d have the gout yesterday. I was sure of it, when you would drink the Constitution in that manner with nine times nine bumpers at the Hall; I knew you’d be in bed with the gout on the glorious 10th, and so miss a chance of going down to posterity with a Special Constable’s staff in your hand (as my wife insists = my being painted, as she says, for the children.) However, as you were wrapt in flannel, and missed the glory, I’ ive pa all the particulars. _ i “The morning broke dull and hazy, and I said to myself, ‘Peter, you’ll have a hot day of it.’ Never did I eat my eggs, and ham, and herring, with so much alarm for the British Constitution. My wife saw my feelings b of Graccuus couldn’t have been more ut said nothing, and made the tea, calmly as a Roman heroine. The mother erself. The girls, too—I’must say it—seemed in the best spirits. More than that, I remarked that they had dressed themselves like new pins. It was quite plain that the principles I had brought ’em up in, were bearing the noblest of fruits, and they had put on their best bibs and tuckers, to stand reso utely by the British Constitution. : “With not so much as a tear in her eye, did my wife bring me my staff; so much did that heroic woman (although I was going to leave home for many hours) control her feelings. Just as I was qos, ee bell rang at the back-gate, and Saran ran in all of a fluster, saying, ‘If you please, Sir, the sojers !? “You see, F. M. the Duke or WELLINGTON had written to me overnight (that letter is, for ever and ever, an heir-loom to the GoroBeps!) requesting me to give the back-rooms to a division of the gal- lant —th. To.ask was to command. The children’s beds were immediately removed; and, as I said to my wife—‘ For the sake of the country, and for one night, the boys must bivouack in the drawing-room.’ “T immediately went to the back-gate, and showed the division up stairs to their quarters. You will think that a whole troop of soldiers, coming suddenly into a private house, would a little alarm a om family. Not the GoropeDs, depend upon it. The girls saw every soldier, bayonets and all, efile up stairs, and never shrank amuscle. I felt proud of em: I own it: I was a happy father. . “*From this angle, Sir,’ said Captain Rations, taking me toa corner of my own window, ‘from this angle, Sir, my brave fellows would hit any one waistcoat button of any one Chartist; if, indeed, such vagabonds can afford waistcoat buttons.’ ‘Dear Captain,’ said I, ‘my house and family are doubly insured with you in it. I leave it. I go upon my duty with perfect confidence.’ ‘Mr. Gorosen,’ said the Captain to me, taking my hand with that ease and good breeding that makes the soldier at home every- where; ‘Mr. Gorosep, if the worst comes to the worst, depend upon it, all my troops, with your amiable family, shall be buried _in the ruins of this house, before a Chartist shall cross the threshold. Buried, Sir—in the ruins.” What could Ido? I squeezed the Captain by the hand. Words! I had none to thank him with. Luckily, however, I recollected myself; and, drawing the key of the wine-cellar from | pocket, I gave it to the Captain's keeping. With a whisper—and I saw he felt the delicacy of the attention— I merely said, ‘The left-hand bin,’ and left him for my duty. ¥ “T went upon my beat. Having nothing to do—for there wasn’t so much as a dog stirring—I caught myself a-humming the Marseillaise. And then—how it happened, I can’t say—I did nothing but think of all the Six Points of the Charter. They would keep tumbling about in my head whether or not. And upon my life—never having thought of ’em so much before—some of ’em I can’t think so full of rebellion as I did. In the first place—but no: when we meet I shall be ready to defend an extension of the suffrage, triennial parliaments, and certainly, vote by ballot! It’s veryodd; but this you may depend upon. There were so many Special Constables on the 10th, with nothing else to do, that they never thought so much of the Charter before. “Well, the day went off splendidly. I got home at nine at night; just in time to see the Captain and his men—(I assure you they hadn’t forgot the left-hand bin)—defile again out at the back-gate. Once outside, the fife and drum struck up Zhe girls we leave behind us; and didn’t we have a jolly supper! and didn’t we drink the QuEEN and the Constitution! and at twelve o’clock didn’t my wife say, | | | | in her own clever manner, ‘ My dear | Peter, as that’s the fourth glass of toddy, and as you’re a Special Con- stable, I think you couldn than take yourself up—to bed.’ “ After the excitement of yesterday, and after feeling that the right as a trivet, I cannot settle my- self down to business, so make holi- day till to-morrow. Vive the Whigs / “Yours ever truly, * PetER GOTOBED.” “P.S. Just received a letter from Lieutenant Snices to dine at the Mess; who tells me that F. M. the Duke takes a quiet chop with ’em on Tuesday, and I must come.” Mrs. Gotosep ¢o Mrs. DEFuRBELOW. “Dear Mrs. DEFURBELOW, ** ALL your fears, kind as you were to express ’em, have been in vain. Our house, as my daughter JuLia says, was invested by the military; but never, never were there such dears of men. Your account of the siege of Brussels, where you lived three days in a henroost, supporting yourself upon nothing but the eggs, did, I own it, terrify me with notions of the military character, garrisoned in the bosom of a family. But your soldiers were filthy foreigners. You not to deal with the gallant —th. “T assure you the regiment had possession of our house for a whole ay, and not one speck was left upon the carpets; not a rumple on the chair-covers. But for a few dozen broken pinseee, with a small heap of cigar ash, nobody could tell that a soldier had been near us. ’ ““Mr: Gotosep was absent with his Staff. Therefore, upon me alone devolved the duty of all the honours ; though, I must say it, Jutta acquitted herself most heroically. After our military luncheon, (I mustn’t call it dinner) the dear girl sang—We may be happy yet, the brave LizvTENANT Syices turning the leaves with a feeling, that showed the true musician. “Juuia is a little depressed this morning—and I don’t wonder at it. One can’t be calm for a whole day upon the eve of Revolution, without paying for it the next. * Yours always, “E1iza GoToBED.” “P. S. I don’t know why I should ask; but you know these things better than Ido. What is the fullest pay of an army lieutenant ?” Miss Jutta Gotorep ¢o Miss ARa- BELLA ROSEGARTEN. “Yes, ARABELLA; the die is cast. He has come—he has seen—and I have conquered, I always had a dim, mysterious notion that my fate was somehow bound up with the fate of my country. And so it has turned out. The Revolution that has broken against the throne of Engiand, harmless as a ripple upon Herne Bay beach, has enthroned in this bosom the t do better | hrone is | VOL, XIV. R

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164 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL tyrant Love. I cannot express to you the émeute of my feelings! Nor can I think that an envious destiny will throw up a barricade between me and happiness ! “* We have passed through a most magnificent or. There was no fighting ; but the bayonets in our house had an awful glitter. What I should have done had the mob attacked us, nobody can tell; but the gallant LieUTENANT Swnice6s, with an oath so pretty, you might work it in crewel—the gallant creature said, he would mow ’em down like turnip tops! It would have been dreadful, would it not ?—but still interesting. ** ARABELLA, | am now about to intrust you with a secret that—if your school-girl feelings are still the same—you will not let a team of wild horses tear from you. Handing me down to lunch, LizuTENANT Sniees proposed! Did I not say the die was cast ? The dear fellow has invited Pa to the Mess; and, though I believe he has nothing but his sword at the present, his expectations are immense. Pa dines on Tuesday; on Wednesday, expect to hear that the happiest woman upon earth is your devoted and aflectionate schoolfellow,} “ Jutta GoTOBED.” “T know the dear DuKE or WELLINGTON attends weddings. If Pa gives his consent to Syiccs—the dear fellow’s name, I should tell you, is my favourite—EpGar—do you think the Duke would, out of compli- ment to a fellow-soldier, give me away ?” Susan Moprtey /o Saran Gritts. Dear SaRAn, “| ve given warning, have drawn from the savings bank, and leave here inamonth. I know you’ll ask me, why? when I was so comfortable. Well, Saran, for this special reason; I’m more com- fortable still. I’msure I should like a Revolution every day in the year, for we never had such a happy house as last Monday. We'd a division of the Coldcream Guards, to protect the Crown of England, from the second-floor windows. Our house was like a garrison, and smelt of powder like a maga- zine, They talked of throwing sky-rockets from the garrets, and more, of throwing shells to the mob, which I thought foolish waste, seeing how nice they look upon mantel-pieces. “T suppose you think I were in a pretty pucker. In- deed, warn’t. I couldn’t ha’ thought it till I’d tried, what a deal of comfort there is in seeing so many guns about one, with noble fellars not afeard to fire ’em off. And then the soldiers—’specially ConroraL Fusss—was in such good humour, it was impossible to fear nothing. I do believe I could a looked upon a battle of Waterloo, with never so much as a single witter. _“* Well, to make a long story short, Corporat Fusss asked me to be his wife—though he said he could, if he liked, marry a governess in a duke’s family, that knew French and the use of the globes, the next day. The dear cretur was so straightforward, I couldn’t have the heart to worrit him; so I promised at once, and showed my savings bank book, which he said was beautiful. “He talks of going to Indy, when we marry; as he says it’s easier to get made a Captain there. 1’m rayther afraid of the sun, as you know I freckle with so little—still, a soldier’s wife (and I almost feel one already) must be afeard of nothing. I shall ask you to the wedding, which will be in a month at least; and so seeing what’s come of the Revolution, and how happy I’ve been made by it, shouldn’t I be an ungrateful cretur not to cry—Hoorah for the Charter ! ** Your constant friend till death, “Susan Moptey.” HOW WE TOOK IN THE BREAD, THIS IS “T sit and count the clock; for at seven I’m going to take four new shirts, a pigeon-pie, and a bottle of ale to Funss.” To Those who Cultivate Liberty. OHN SMITH, Market Gardener, Hammersmith, begs to inform the Pro- ’ visional Committee, and its agents in Ireland and elsewhere, that he has on his grounds a beautiful collection of young trees, well adapted for ‘‘Liberty in all its branches,"’ or any other plant. They are best fitted for an Irish soul, as they are just about to shoot. N.B. Plots laid out, and attended to by the week, month, or year. THE ASYLUM OF EUROPE. = ome, all ye kings kick’d out of doors By foreign insurrection, Oh! come to Britain’s peace- /}) ful shores ‘ For safety and protection ; Ye Ministers, obliged to run climes too hot to hold you, Come to Joun Butt, each mother’s son— _ Let his stout arms enfold you. Here, on this little halcyon’s nest, 4 Encompass’d by the billows, Each night you may securely rest : Your heads upon your illows ; Shelter’d, like chicks, ye banish’d eden, By hen’s maternal pinions, Beneath the British Oak that shades Her Masgsry’s dominions. \ No toesin here, with brazen tongue, At midnight calls to riot; F’en dustmen’s bells we won’t have rung To break the morning’s quiet. No barricades obstruct the way In this pacific nation, Save now and then, when Fleet Street may Be under reparation. Hither, ye merchants, haste, and bring Your wares from every quarter ; , We’re quite prepared for anything, To buy, or sell, or barter : For Business is a refugee From other lands distracted By revolution; wherefore she Comes here to be transacted. Count not your spoons, good folks, your plate Hide not—we won’t purloin it ; Your silver will be safe—our State Has no desire to coin it, Since, our finances to recruit, Our country nowise needs it: Britanyia’s perfect substitute Entirely supersedes it. Come to the island of the free, The solvent, and the steady, Ye foreigners of property, And here invest your “ ready,” Whilst things look up with British Stock, And British Trade advances, And hand in hand, on Credit’s rock, Ease, joined with Discount, dances. | “ “Tis now Ten Years ago,” &c., &e. | Tue French Revolution has been accused of having produced ‘nothing great, excepting deputations, demonstrations, and poplar plantations. However, something great is at last to grow out of the chaotic confusion. After the discord, is to come the harmony. The jeternal Marseil/aise is to be succeeded by an opera of MEYERBEER. | We are to be indebted to the Revolution for the production of the | Prophéete. This opera has been in portfolio for ten years; a little pamphlet might be written on its vicissitudes, forming a musical supple- |ment to L’Histoire de Dix Ans. Many persons have doubted its |existence; but so was that of Asp-EL-KapER, until he was caught. The Prophéete, however, is in custody. No less than five acts have been handed over to the copyists of the Académie. Every note is under the strictest surveillance, and a patrol is placed in the orchestra to prevent j | the escape of a single bar. ,

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

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THE EMIGRATION FROM FRANCE. TueERE is one Emigrant from France against whom the Alien Act will certainly never be enforced, however rigorously it may be carried into effect in the case of seedy firebrands with long hair, long beards, and long faces, who go about London trying to persuade Englishmen, in the spirit of the fox without a tail, that this country would be mightily benefited by giving up some of those things that France has lately sacrificed. These gentlemen are not progressing very rapidly in their propagandist attempts, and, indeed, the cases of fraternisation are so few as to be scarcely worth mentioning. The most interesting of all the emigrants, and the only one that is sure of a cordial reception from the British people, belongs to a peculiar species or specie which one of our artists has been at some pains to indicate. ‘This emigrant finds every door open to him; the best hotels are at his service, and he sees every hand stretched out to receive him. His initials are L. S. D., and he is welcomed with as much avidity as any exiled sovereign.

—_—

f / || eapgygaee [neal Te sae " Uh IE Dy) | It is expected that his presence in England will be productive of much good, for he is ong, of English extraction, and his long sojourn on the Continent has been very injurious to the country to which he pro- bably belongs, and where his return will be hailed with the utmost satis- faction. He has hitherto failed to contribute his fair share of taxation, and has been otherwise unprofitable in his character of an absentee ; but the greatness and stability of England will amply repay him for the calls that will be made upon him, and Z. 5. D. will be as gratified at having got back as we shall be delighted to hail his restoration to the land to which he chiefly owes his existence. A SERIOUS LECTURE ON BROAD GRINS. RESPECTFULLY ADDRESSED TO THE HOUSE OF COMMONS. GENTLEMEN, You will readily give me credit, when I assure you I'am no enemy to laughter. It is a foolish child that quarrels with its bread- and-butter ; and my bread-and-butter is the Broad Grin. But you will excuse me for pointing out some little distinctions between my mirth and yours, I laugh at foolish people and folly; because, though insensible to reason, they are keenly alive to ridicule. I make few of them better by this, perhaps, but I make a great many ashamed of themselves. The Spartans fuddled their slaves to show their children what a con- temptible thing is a drunken man. So I occasionally play the fool, that possibly fools may see the absurdity of the thing, and avoid it. Again, I at knaves, because the lancet of the satirist may often be a better tool for pricking the world’s humours than the scalpel of the reformer, the discipline of the priest, or the sword of the judge. There is always one face of roguery which is purely ridiculous, and as this is the face which least imposes on people, | do some good by turning it towards them. _ I sometimes, though rarely, laugh at wickedness; but when I do, it is not with a kindly or natural laughter, but a bitter and contemptuous chuckle, which indeed is the only way I have of expressing disgust and ,{and more than all, when

indignation. Lastly, I langh a great deal in pure lightness of heart, and this is the laughter I best like the echo of. You see I can explain my laughter. But hang me if I can explain yours. It is true we have some subjects and objects of laughter in common. You laugh, for example, at Srstuorp, and sodol. Icould mention some other of our common friends; but let that pass. It is where you laugh every now and then at what goes as near as anything can go to make me cry, that I desiderate your theory of Broad Grins. For example, you laugh whenever the Charter is mentioned, or Chartists. Now, that there are knaves and fools in plenty, who ask for the one, and call themselves the other, is certain. But when I remember that, though Mr. Fearcus O'Connor and ‘his friends have a knack of sticking in their ciphers very much at random, there are some hundreds of thousands who blindly believe in those Five Points, and that of those hundreds of thousands there is a large proportion of ignorant, hungry, and squalid men, who have no share in exaggerations of Conven- tions, but who in their intolerable suffering, and hopeless toil, cling to something which, delusion as it may ‘he, isthe only pleasant delusion they have—when J think that if their ignorance be crassand gross, it is only the more dangerous for the society of whose base they form no small part —that if their passions and desi will only rend the fabric the more by the wildness of their straining— done for ‘these squalid, blind the collective wisdom of our society, if ‘they embody its collective ignorance—then, ‘to me deeply pondering these things (as Broucuam would say), your laugliter at’ these men, and ‘their Charter, sounds the strangest, saddest, vainest—I had almost written, wickedest—of sounds utterable by human voices. Did you wever hear of Alpine travellers whose laughter has brought down an avalanche? So far as I can see, you must abandon this habit. I do not suppose it is the wisest, or oldest, or most thoughtful among you who indulge init. But, for your own sakes, such of you as are wise and thoughtful should put down this crackling of thorns under a pot. At such atime as this, gravity at least, if not sadness, would better become all of us. I sometimes feel in my motley as if I were clad in sackcloth and ashes. But nothing in the eventful history of the last two months has gone so near to dry up the spring of mirthfulness in me altogether as that ominous, asinine laughter of yours. I thought of it on Monday week, when the streets were blank with vague anxiety, and London bristled with bayonets, and I said to myself, ‘‘ What if that silly laughter of the Commons were to desires ‘be desperate and hopeless, they |

I think on what societynd the state have | , striving masses, and ‘that you <n

be re-echoed (after,the Irish fashion) this day with the voice of cannon?” PUNCH. —_—_ = ~ = se = \ Wig ,

PORTRAIT OF CoLonEL SIBTHORP ON HEARING THAT HE HAD SIGNED THE Cuartist Petition. (By an Eve-wityass.) Something in a Name. A CorrEsponDENT, who is evidently not very well versed in his pronunciation of the French language, has addressed to us a letter of seven sides, very closely written, for the purpose of proving that the French were wrong, and have only themselves to thank if they are dis- appointed at finding they have got no prize in Louis Blanc. Our correspondent, of course, read the word—Blank.

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| INSIST, FREDERICK, UPON YOUR TAKING THIS HOT BRANDY-AND-WATER. I SHALL BE mended for the choice of the National Assembly. There will i > ? j 166 PUNCH. OR THE LONDON CHARIVART. rey lity Nails! Ve | ||) ) ) ls { , | a | i | Mi | i \ | | | Special’s Wife. “ ConTRARY TO REGULATIONS INDEED! Frpp.esticks ! HAVING YOU LAID UP NEXT, AND NOT FIT FOR ANYTHING.” HOW TO TAME IRELAND. WE are happy in making an announcement which will instil the utmost joy, we are sure, into the breasts of all loyal —— wee ms, Sues. ay so has ry on sending to that unhappy country the proprietor of the Family—a pons tc mg republic, in which the wildest Fons 4 elbow one another in the same cage—to see whether Irishmen cannot be induced, or made, to live peaceably together. He is to be empowered with authority for making experiments, and Lorp CLARENDON is to assist him in his benevolent schemes. We are informed his first experiment will be tried upon a Young Irelander, an Old Irelander, and an Orangeman. He will shut them up in a room, and not allow them to leave it till they have shaken hands together, and have but one idea, one impulse in common—the benefit of their native country. We confess we have our doubts, but it would be ungenerous to give expression to them at present. The talented tamer of animal passions, however, is sanguine of the result. The | best wishes of the intelligent accompany the gentleman on his | | noble mission of peace. PARIS. (From our own Correspendent.) Citizen Louis Bianc, Membre du Gouvernement Provisoire, is engaged on a work, La Disorganization du Travail. The French Minister of Finance will receive tenders for | supplying National Bank-notes for a thousand millions. As | the notes will be of very doubtful value when issued, the terms | must be moderate. | A Service Funébre will be performed at Paris for the Chartist | victims of Monday last. | The Provisional Government announce that they intend to | seize on all the Railways, finished or unfinished. They make no distinctions between the shareholders—they are all to be finished. The Clubs are at a loss to select a Speaker to be recom- I must | be 900 candidates. PUNCH’S REVIEW. The Parliamentary Duellist, Waistcoat-pocket Edition. By Frarcus O’Connor, Esq., M.P. To be had of all Parliamentary Agents. Tuis is a very timely book. No gentleman’s pistol-case can be com- lete without it. Mr. O'Connor has taken the whole breadth and ength of the subject; and has proved himself singularly capable of teaching the rising Member, whoever he may be. Our first intention was, for the good of the world, to infringe the law of copyright, and transfer the whole of Mr. O’Connor’s book to our pages. A latent feeling of honesty induces us to limit the larceny to one extract; and as that one contains the whole essence of the volume, the economic reader will pause before he wastes his money upon the book itself. Here is the whole kernel of the nut :— ** There may arise an occasion upon which the manifestation of an heroic contempt of powder and ball will give the House a very elevated notion of the courage of the Member. ‘The oecasion is this. Fasten a quarrel upon yourself. Translate in a high and arbitrary spirit the assertion of an opponent as reflecting the very strongest bull’s-eye light upon your probity. Whereupon, looking hard at Mr. Speaker, and then turning to your a, say—‘ This, Sir, must be answered in another place. You shall hear from me. Chalk Farm, or Wimbledon—take your choice.’ Upon which, with a pistol-ball in either eye, stalk hurriedly from the House, going straight to your own lodgings. For, depend upon it, the Minister or scmebody, will rise to prevent bloodshed ; will move that you are immediately brought before the House; and it would be ill-manners to the Serjeant- at-Arms to be denied at = own ledgings, when that distinguished officer feels it his 7 to call upon you. Showing a _ respect for the dignity of Parliament, you will suffer yourself to be led back to the House: and further, to illustrate your docility to the law, you will permit yourself to be bound like a tame lamb, as Pork says, to shake the hand ‘ just raised to shed your blood.’” It must be confessed that this passage pulsates—every syllable of it —with wisdom. Moreover, it has this recommendation. It is not offered on a crude theory; but is further recommended by the sincere knowledge of the writer; he having personally illustrated by example what he so eloquently teaches by precept. The book (with a gratitude as rare as it is touching) is dedicated to the Serjeant-at-Arms. Cuartist Petition.—Among the wicked forgeries appended to this document was the signature “No Cheese.” A worse, but a much truer one might have been written; namely, “ No Bread.” Ist. “TaLK OF INTERRUPTION TO BUSINESS! Vy,I GIVE YER MY VORD OF HONOUR, THAT WAT WITH THEM SPECIALS AND THE REGLAR CRUSHERS, I AIN’T SO MUCH AS PRIGGED A SINGLE HANDKERCHER FOR A VEEK.” 2nd. “Ou, It’s ENUFF TO MAKE VUN TURN RESPECTABLE.”

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| ! ——_ SPECIAL CONSTABLE PUNCH. “ Now, Youna Fettow! Twesz ARE NOT TIMES FOR LOITERING. IF you DON’T KKEP MOVING, YoU AND I SHALL FALL OUT.’ J

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169 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. NOBILITY AT THE PYRAMIDS. —- , — ee Tue season for continental tripping and touring being happily rather remote at the present period of the year, there is just a chance that, by the time the autumn comes round, the state of Europe will be sufli- ciently tranquil to allow one to entertain the notion of going, for pleasure, to France or Italy. Unless a change does take place, the Pyramids will be the only perfect substitute for Baden-Baden, and the rt of Ascalon will be the recognised apology for Boulogne, as a foreign bathing-place. Wes hearing of a ¢adle-d’hote on the shelving precipices of Palmyra, and a boarding-house started on the Libyan sands, with water laid on from the Grand African Junction and Friendly Nile Association, for the supply of genuine Nile on equitable principles. The means of rapid locomotion are so very numerous, that the journey to these remote places will be almost as easy as it used to be formerly to visit France or Italy ; and, as peace and quiet are indis- ensable to the full enjoyment of a holiday, nothing nearer than the yramids can be thought of, at present, by travellers for pleasure. COMMISSION OF LUNACY EXTRAORDINARY. A Commission of Lunacy, which had been issued on the prayer of | the Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, against three unfortunate individuals, Joun Mitcuett, THomas MeaGuer, and W. 8. O’Brien, was opened last week, in Dublin, Several witnesses deposed to acts of lunacy on the part of these un- fortunate persons. JoHN Mitcue.1 laboured under a delusion that he | was a slave, and that he was mee by certain imaginary persons | called “Saxons.” He would walk about the room for hours, brandishing | a pen, which he declared was a pike, and ealling upon every one who came in to “break their chains.” Witnesses never saw anybody with any chains on at the time he called out so. Mircnent, Meacuer, and) O’Brien often quarrelled. When they were fighting, they used to call themselves “ united Irishmen.” They often tried to set the house on fire with lighted newspapers. When remonstrated with, they used to shout out “Treland for the Irish!” Witnesses had known them dress themselves up in strange uniforms. They would get hold of guns or any weapons left about, and witnesses had often been alarmed by the reckless way in which they brandished them about. O’Brien was once so violent | that he had to be put into the cellar. He was much quieter for some time after that. Witnesses believed they knew the value of money when they had any, but did not consider them capable of managing their own affairs. ‘The house they lived in was kept by a Mr. Jonn | Buu. He was very kind to his lodgers—used often to send them up victuals, and clothes, and money. They eat the victuals and took the money, but used to tear the clothes to pieces and go about in | They always abused Mr. BuLt, and witnesses believed it was he they meant by “Saxon.” When he sent them up victuals, they used to/| ones he was starving them, andjwhen he gave them money, they | would shout out “robbery!” thus collecting mobs under the windows, and | alarming the neighbours, \ who used to come in, believing that ~_ were being ill used. After hearing much evidence to the same effect, the Commission proceeded to examine these afilicted persons. They found them very much excited, raving about chains and slavery, though at the time perfectly free from any restraint whatever. Mz. MgaGHER was on a chair making a speech. He had arms, as had also his companions; and Mr. Butt declared he did not consider himself safe under the same roof with them. When the Commissioners came in, the three unhappy lunatics demanded that their chains might be taken off, and that they might no longer be starved and murdered by the “Saxon,” shaking their fists at Mr. But, who declared that so far from robbing them, he was seriously out of pocket for provisions with which he had supplied them. The Commission, after putting a few questions to the lunatics, to which they could not get any intelligible reply, gave their verdict unanimously, that “Joun Mircnen, THomas MeaGuHer, and W. S. O’Brign, have been of unsound mind, and incapable of managing their own affairs since the lst of April, 1846. ‘They further recommend that the said Joun Mitcuert, Tuomas Meas and W. 8. O’Baren be put —. seaman, as their violence is attended with danger to themselves and others.” CONSCIENCE-MONEY. Every now and then we find an acknowledgment in the Zimes, that the CHANCELLOR OF THE EXCHEQUER has received so many pounds from So-anp-So, on account of unpaid taxes or unclaimed income-tax. A qualm of conscience on the part of some secret defaulter sends a five- und note flying towards the national coffers. It is a refreshing thing or our country’s resources, when a sinner cannot unburden his heart without unbuttoning his pocket. It would perhaps be satisfactory if the sums sent in by reformed rogues were described under the heads to which they properly belong in the qui accounts of the Revenue. We ourselves have sometimes had our brains racked, and our feelings tortured, by a recollection of having once brought over a letter from abroad to a friend in England, and twice have we made the effort to summon the courage to forward the eightpence to the PostmastTER- GENERAL. on others, has always been wanting, and we walk But no; the resolution on some occasions, or the money | about, a wretched | robber of our country to the tune of eightpence. Besides, we are of | opinion that Conscience is not to be pacified by restoring at our own convenience what does not belong to us. Such tardy honesty is but a | doubtful virtue, and we recommend the parties who practise it to be a little more prompt, for the future, in the performance of their duties. What will become of Him? Tus important question is suggested by a contemplation of the probable fate of the author of the following WE-DON’T-KNOW-WHAT-TO-CALL-IT— _ We understand that when it was proposed in the National Conven- tion to die on Blackfriars Bridge, rather than give way, Mr. JuLIAN Harney, who is a little fellow, leaped enthusiastically on to the shoulders of his friend Currey to make himself visible, and that Currey thereupon declared his wish to rush forth to battle, exclaiming — At least we’ll die with Hanneys (Harness?) on our back.” Dreadful Mortality. WE have heard of Irish patriots promising to die upon the floor of the House of Commons, but we little expected the frightful mortality | which has taken place in that patriotic cemetery within the last week. We allude to the deaths of the 3,600,000 persons who were said to have signed the Chartist Petition. They all of the House of Commons, and were followed to the grave by Mr. Fearcus O’Connor, who was chief mourner on the occasion. Their remains were properly attended to by Mr. Cripps, who was deeply moved on the melancholy occasion. Though they ali died for the benefit of their country, yet not one of the 3,600,000 has left a name behind him, Parliamentary Oaths. “Mr. Puncu, “Tue Wizard of Lincoln, Coronet SistHorp, a night or two since, swore amidst “great laughter” of the House. Pray, Sir, how often is an Hon. Member expected to take an oath in Parliament? I thought that one was all that was required of Members; but, perhaps, distinguished senators, like the Colonel, are allowed to swear ad libitum ? Will the gentle, honeyed bigotry of Six Roserr INGuis ermit him to answer this? When SiprHorp swears, why doth not Reus rebuke him? Or is the Colonel to be allowed to have the run of the QuEEN’s English, especially when it runs into Billingsgate ? ** Yours, Hear! Hear.” gave up the ghost on the floor |

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170 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL LATEST INTELLIGENCE. DREADFUL OUTRAGE IN THE CITY. Monday, April 10th. We stop the Lp to announce that |the Bank of England has been entered during the night. Its | doors are closed, and all cash payments suspended. | The whole place is filled with arms. The bid Lady has taken refuge in the cellars, and it is rumoured that the Directors have fled there also, to enjoy their rest. The Beadle has deserted his post, and not a clerk is to be seen for love or money. | | | LATER LATEST INTELLIGENCE. A oreo has just rushed into our office. He is almost speechless ; but what we can gather from his awful statement, | distributed only a syllable a minute, is— | That a body of men is busy at this moment sacking the | Bank! ! LATEST LATEST INTELLIGENCE. 10m. past 10. The worst is realised. Tur Bank Is SACKED UP TO THE VERY ROOF!!! [The above is copied from a poster of the Electric pot oak |@ journal whose circulation must depend upon the shocking nature of its placards. The more it alarms the passers-by, the | more it seems to sell. A Revolution, we are told, is as good as be dozen copies to it. The above may be taken as a good speci- | men. of its awful intelligence. A “ Fifteenth Edition” is | eee sometime in the evening, which informs those who souked up to the very roo appen to buy it, that it is oy! true “the Bank has been | to inform them that it was only with sacks of sand!” | | | but their informant neglected A Joke from Chancery Lane. | A ¥FACETIOUS lawyer, who is the delight of the Master’s , Office, and the pet of the County Courts, attended at Bow Street ‘to be sworn in as a special constable. He proved himself | worthy of the occasion. As the loyal staff was put into his hands, he exclaimed, playfully shaking it, “ Instructions to | defend—6s. 8d.” There was loud laughter, in which the face- SreciaL CONSTABLE PREPARING FOR THE WORST.—DRYING HIS GUNPOWDER | tious lawyer joined himself,—another proof that he is well IN THE FRYING-PAN. skilled in the art of joking. THE MODEL HUSBAND. He walks out with his wife on a week day, and is not afraid of a lf milliner’s shop. He even has “ change” when asked for it, and never alludes to it afterwards. He is not above carrying a large brown paper parcel or a cotton umbrella, or the clogs, or even holding the aby in his lap in an omnibus. He runs on first, to knock at the door, when it is raining. He goes outside, if the cab is full. He goes to bed first in cold weather. He will get up in the middle of the night to rock the cradle, or answer the door-bell. He allows the mother- in-law to stop in the house. He takes wine with her, and lets her breakfast in her own room. He eats cold meat without a murmur or pickles, and is indifferent about pies and puddings. The cheese is never too strong, or the beer too small, or the tea too weak for him. He believes in hysterics, and is melted instantly with a tear. He patches up a quarrel with a velvet gown, and drives away the sulks with a trip to Epsom, or a gig in the Park on Sunday. He goes to church regularly, and takes his wife to the Opera once a year. He pays for her losses at cards, and gives her all his winnings. He never flies out about his buttons, or brings home friends to supper. His clothes never smell of tobacco. He respects the curtains, and never smokes in the house. He carves, but never secretes for himself “the brown.” He respects the fiction of his wife’s age, and would as soon burn his fingers as touch the bright poker. Hie never invades the kitchen, and would no more think of blowing up any of the servants than of ordering the dinner, or having the tray brought up after eleven. He is innocent of a latch-key. He lets the family go out of town once every year, whilst he remains at home with one knife and fork, sits on a brown holland chair, sleeps on a curtainless bed, and has a charwoman to wait on him. He goes down on the Saturday, and comes up on the Monday, taking with him the clean linen, and bringing back the dirty clothes, He checks the washing-bills. He pays the housekeeping money without a suspicion, and shuts his eyes to the “Sundries.” He is very easy and affectionate, keeping the wedding anniversary punctually ; never complaining if the dinner is not ready; making the breakfast himself if no one is down; letting his wife waltz, and drink porter before company. He runs all her errands, pays all her bills, and cries like a child at her death. Beware of your Leaders. WE must not be too angry with the forgeries to the Chartist Petition, or they have evidently proceeded from poor uneducated persons, whose rincipal flourish is in never allowing themselves to be dictated to. Buch grossness never could have occurred, if they had had proper rulers to guide them. It is a doubtful point whether Ma. Fearcts O’Connor is anxious for a Republic, but one thing is certain, he never would be popular as a Dictator. Appointments. WE have great pleasure in stating that the Order of the “ High Constable” is to be established in England. This appointment is to be conferred on Mr. Punch, whose achievements in preserving the public peace last Monday week must come home to the bosoms and heads of many. He will be invested with the Jdton de conndtable ina few days; that is to say, he will be allowed to retain the one he has flourished so long and successfully in the service of his country. NATURAL HISTORY OF ENTHUSIASM. Tue tricolor flag hung out of a house in Paris means “ No rent paid here.” No wonder, under such circumstances, that an unflagging displays itself among the house proprietors. Real Equality. A Tueatr:, it is said, is about to be established at Paris, in which the prices are to be equal to all parts of the house, the salaries are to be equal, for all the performers high or low, and the temper of the manager is to be equal under every trial to which it may be ex ' The system of perfect equality is also to be applied to a variety o other matters. The equinoctial line has already given in its adhesion to the French Republic, and the engineer’s level is the only one that has been known to turn dumpy in France at the present state of affairs. Ce ee ee

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL 171 FRENCH SYMPATHISERS. HE French gentleman who, on the evening of Monday, the 10th of April, was shouting out that all the English were cowards, and that the French would show them how to fight, and who was knocked down by a butcher boy, is requested to a send to our office for the papers = which fell out of his hat, and which will be restored to their owner. The Citizen CoRNICHON appears to have come to this country as one = of Mr. Smitn O’Brten’s fifty = thousand friends, having a strong = sympathy with the cause of insur- —— rection allover the world: He has not been heard of since the events of the 10th: perhaps he has gone Extracts from hi ~~ ga iginals _ Extracts from his papers, literally translated, are given ; the ori lie for his inspection, and the butcher-boy has left his card. “ The Representative of France, Connicuon, to the President of the Tyrannicide Club, *Liserty! Equarity! Fraternity! Dearu to Desrotism! ** London, 8 February. **T have the honour to announce my arrival in the modern Carthage, and to report as to the measures taken by us for conferring liberty upon an island whose treachery has passed into a proverb, and who groans under a hideous aristocratic despotism. “The traject from pe was made in two hours; a strong wind agitated the waters of the Sleeve (/a Manche); unaccustomed to mari- time motion, I suffered frightful anguishes. More dead than alive, I was supported to shore at Folkestone, by a couple of English opera- tives who, (with many more of their nation) found themselves on board. “These miserables and their families are quitting our country, where they have been enriching themselves for my years at the expense of France. I cannot but applaud the decree which banishes them from our soil. Are there not Frenchmen enough to till it? Are we inferior in art, in bravery, in science, to these insularies? Let them be flung out of a nation which has. need of all its wealth for the support of its own children. ; “T protest against the manner in which the fugitive artisans were received upon the brumous shores of Albion. Hypocritical means of shelter have been provided for the fugitives. ‘the Lord Mayor of Folkestone received them with expressions of condolence, and with offers of bread and the national beer. These expressions, this food, this sympathy that Albion flings into the figure of France, is an insult to the Republic. She will wash herself of it, as of Prircuarp indem- nities and other outrages, with which she has been for a long time beveraged. : “The Citizen Superintendent of the baggage of this port is an Trishman. ‘Are you and your nation prepared to act?’ I asked him. It is a good sign to find this harbour in the hands of our allies. “My sack-of-night was passed without difficulty at the Douane. My ' commissary-scarf:was not remarked by the supervisors, or if so, treated | the Norman with insular scorn. Gloriousemblem! In three days, in the midst of bayonets and battles, it shall gird the heart of the patriot! WHrLLING- TON shall see that signal, and Patmerston kiss the foot of the wearer. I proceeded to London uncomfortably in the third-class wagon. “An omnibus: transports the voyagers from the s‘ation across the fogey Thames and the bridge of Vestmainsterre, by the Vite Hall built by illi where a traitorous monarch justly met his doom, to the place of! the Gallery of the Nation,* as the Chambers are here called. Fountaimssbubble before it, endlessly, dirty and frothing emblems of the deliberations within. Hideous equestrian statues offend the eyes of the-visitor. The palace of the QuEEN, called Northom- berland Ouse, is opposite the Chamber: surmounted by astupid British Lion, which shall not long remain on those pinnacles. A column of stone, called the Column of Trafalgar, of which I do not understand the meaning, for history makes no mention of such a man or place, is in the centre of this Squarr, as the places of London are called. “My lodgings were selected in this neighbourhood. Descending from the omnibus with my sack-of-night, and showing the card on which the address of my hotel was engraved, I had little difficulty in reaching that o_ of refuge. “] have an apartment in a lofty and wholesome situation—at the Hotel de |’Ail, in the most fashionable quarter of the town, called * It would appear that Citizen Connicuon mistook the National Gallery for the Parlia- ment House, Lester Squarr. A bronze image of the infamous Pirr on horseback decorates the c and. smiling of the Squarr. I promised pome to level that superb bronze on the day of the national de- verance, “The principles of our glorious Revolution I saw were everywhere progressing : in almost all the shops in the neighbourhood of the Squarr pancarts announced that French was spoken by these commercials, They are evidently prepared to declare themselves after the great day ; when the nation shall be ours, and the stain of Waterloo wiped away. ‘*T tendered a hundred-franc note at one of these establishments in a beautiful gallery called the Quadrant, and for a white paletot doubled of rose-coloured silk which attracted my regards. With disgusting indifference the infamous proprietor of the magazine ref the paper of the Republic. The Republic will remember him in the day of ven- geance. I will wear that rose-doubled paletot under the scarf of the ommissioner of France. “On the day of my arrival, one infamous had the odious insignia. of a fallen and corrupt dynasty gilt over his door. I have pointed it out to the attention of patriots: and bid Citizen Grossacques remember that there are such things as Vengeance and Retribution. “This, the fashionable quarter, is entirely in the possession of French- In those superb but smoky arcades, in those crowded streets men. round my Squarr, I rencountered none but compatriots; and. many friends. The Citizen Cuoux and myself made a careful survey round the Squarr, and arranged where the barricades of the glorious 10th of April are to be erected. An estimable artist bas ‘here a temple to the Goddess of Reason, under the name of Walhalla.. The Crrizen Curpparp conducted me to its halls. “T have consulted with the Citizens who are to blow up the Bridge of Waterloo. A select band is appointed who is to take possession of the Lor Maire. With him in our hands, the Town is ours: “The QuzEEN has fled. “The Chartist Citizens are to be invited to join in the demonstration. We shall lead them against the troops. They are clamorous for the day when this island shall become a French department. ; * Sunday, 9 April. “The shops are closed, as if the Citizens dreaded the morrow’s combat. They are flocking to their churches, where they grovel in abject superstitions. I have made myself known to several of the Chartist Club. Their respect for the grand name of France is universal. They sing the Marseillaise generally, but grievously out of tune. “A friend of the great FEaRGoosE has just showed me the petition monster, which the millions of the people have prepared. It will require a carriage of the force of twenty horses to carry it to the Chamber. It is signed by five millions seven hundred-and-sixty-three thousand nine hundred-and-seventy-nine persons. This I swear to you. I counted every one. “Names are in that parchment that I trembled to behold. Ah! Citizen Minister, how shall I describe to you my sentiments, when I saw on the list of petitioners the name of the QueEN VicToria, and the miserable WELLINGTON ! “ With these eyes I sew their writing! With a coward eagerness they have signed the document, not once, but many times. So, you train yourselves before the popular car, do you? So, by devancing the ranks of the nation, armed for liberty, you think to hide your own liberticide projects? Miserable hypocrites! I unmasked at once their intentions to the agent of the Citizen Fearcoose, whoshowed me the parchments. He was much struck by what I said. “* Other names were mentioned in the inscribed, which will astonish the Statesman. Sire Peet has signed it !—What principles has he not already professed? Prince Apert, husband of the QuEEN, has signed it. Even the infamous PatmMerston has written that name which has insulted France at the end of so many protocols. *** Who are these, Snooxks’s,’ asked the Citizen Commissary, whose names I read so many times? It must be a numbrous family of patriots that of SNooxs: mee | merits well of the country. I should think there must be five hundred Syooxks’s at least on the parchment. ‘* My informant, smiling archly, said, ‘he thought there were.’ *** And will they all be in the field of honour to-morrow?’ I asked. “*Behind the barricades, my brother Citizen,’ responded Browy, giving me a grasp of a hand, dirty, but friendly. And putting his other hand to his nose, he playfully extended its fingers. “Cnerexs the Marine also has signed: his corps of red-coats is with the people to aman. They garrison Portsmouth and Plymouth, and form the fighting force of all the ships of the fleet. After to-morrow the brave CuErks and his brethren will pull down the accursed old flag of the Union, and the tricolor shall float at every fort and mast-head in the harbours of Albion. “The miserable coward Punch has also signed the petition: that tardy conversion shall not save him. Since he knew how to speak, this hunchback TuersiTeEs of the press has prodigated insults to our country. A band of my followers shall avenge them to-morrow. ‘“‘ CorniIcuon.” ** Monday, 10 April” * * * * ~ * * * * *

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. LAYING DOWN THE LAW. fli {| | i Special Constable. “Now MIND, YoU KNOW—1IF I KILL YOU, IT’s NOTHING; BUT IF YOU KILL ME, BY Jinco 1T’s MuRDER.” THE REPEAL POETRY. Ir we are to judge by some of the specimens we have lately seen, the Repealers are very badly off indeed for poetry just now; and they could not do better t engage our old friend, the Invisible Poet of Cremorne, to rub up their | reputation for lyrical talent. He could aid them by contributing some of his “thoughts that breathe and words that burn,” to a cause that makes burning one of its principal objects. Some of the recent Repeal effusions are scarcely worthy to take their place by the Saxon “high | diddle diddles” of a primitive era. One of the latest consists of a chorus, whereof the burden | —and a precious leaden burden it is, im more | senses than one—amounts to nothing more than “ Buy a rifle, buy a rifle, For a trifle—for a trifle.’’ | And there is another distich, made up of the sage remark— “ Onwards, onwards, The foe is before us ; r cause is so just, It must be victorious.” We think the effect of this would be mate- rially aided by a “tooral looral” or two, and perhaps a little “right tooral” in, just to give an agreeable and cheerful finish. The Repeal cause must be in a very poor way, if it will not allow the engagement of some poet of superior powers to those displayed in the rubbish we have quoted. The Chelsea Swan, who warbles like a woodlark in the Caves of Cremorne, would supply some real poetry, warranted to send the blood up to boiling point, at a very moderate price, and would entirely supersede the necessity of resort- ing to such sorry couplets as those we have extracted from the Irish newspapers. BROUGHAM A FRENCHMANP No, no, no; a million times no to this sup- ame. England cannot spare him, the UKE OF WELLINGTON cannot spare him, 9 Punch cannot spare him, our artist cannot ) spare him, nobody can spare him from the ) land he enlivens with the play of his wit, and enlightens with the play of his eloquence. Great Britain would fancy herself reduced in circumstances indeed, if she were compelled to put down her Broucuam. While Punch has often made him the vehicle for fun, the country has generally found him a vehicle of progress. It is true the Brovueam has been at times somewhat crazy, and indeed, as some may have thought, rather shakey about the pole; but the Brovenam has been very serviceable in the long-run, and we are disin- clined to part with the old familiar article. _We had therefore heard with sorrow that his Lordship had resolved on getting himself naturalised in France, where it is true enough that things are in such a state as to offer him the prospect of realising any Rk. 4 ambitious project he might entertain, either pall as the — wearer of the imperial purple uture mounter of the military coc ed AS 2G or the mounter ¢ i 2 a — — > - a at, great-coat, and telescope. BrouGHam’s Tes Bs! vast experience in the general line would warrant him, in his own opinion, in making an attempt upon the Commandership-in-chief of the French or any other forces; and though we are sure that the “Gallant Harry” | would do nothing unworthy of a loyal subject, yet it must be remembered that if he became naturalised in France, the heading her armies would | become—not as now it might be, the act of a traitor—but the proceeding of a true patriot. Down, Derry, Down. levelling system now prevailing in France has made everything very | ——— COMMON RIGHT. — aebelnating the commercial depression there is nothing half | PM yy ,27 Nae Cone Tose, Soke Nerkae cn onl eh Caner Giidalecen Pricters at so flat as the peo hemselves, w i i their Office, in Lombard Street, in the Precinct of Whitefriars, in the City of Lordon, and Pub- | people themselves, who expect prosperity to arise from the | their Office, in Lomberd Street. in the. Precinct of Whitefriars, inthe City of London, and, Pubs way in which they are now going on. Sarunpar, Arai 22nd, 1848. | - ihr = L d i i illeg Tue Parisian tradesmen are beginning to complain bitterly that the se ee ee anal , — 1

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is PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL 173 PUNCH’S POLICE. VEEN SquvareE.—A gaunt, oldish-looking boy, who, turning up his nose at the magis- trate, gave his name as Henry Brovucuam, was charged with having attempted to inure Pro Nono, ore sent Popeof Rome, vy squirting at his Holiness a quantity of gutter-mud. It appeared that some evenings ago an Italian was i down Parliament Street, carrying upon his head a collection of plaster-casts, mo- dern and antique. The Italian belonged to that humble but useful class of the cognoscents who have done so mueh to abo- ae lish the spotted cats and painted parrots from the shelves of country parlours and cot- tages; placing in their stead the forms and faces of beauty and genius. The ltalian was one of the serviceable wayfarers, complimented by Mr. Wittiam Worpsworti :— ** Or thro’ our hamlets thou wilt bear The sightiess Mitton, with his hair Around his placid temples eurl'd; And SHaksP«are at his side—a freight If clay could think and mi«d were weight, For h.m who bore the world.” Well, this harmless Italian paused to rest his load in Parliament Street—his load of grace, and worth, and beauty. There was BatLey’s Eve, with Frrtp-MaksHau Prince ALBERT, and, among other notables, the bust of Pius rue Nintu. The complainant deposed, that, a friend | with a barrel-organ coming up, they began to talk about the glorious | regeneration of Italy, when the defendant passed them. “Regeneration! Humbug!” said the defendant, making a mouth, and going on. Know- ing the offender, from his much frequenting the neighbourhood, the Italian took no notice of his insolence. However, in a few minutes he | was covered with filthy water; and, looking round, he saw the defendant kneeling beside a gutter, and filling a squirt. Watched him, and saw him aelibera'ely attempt to squirt mud upon the bust of the Pope: the filth, however, fell quite short of the mark, and the bust remained as pure as ever. The magistrate, commenting very severely upon such dirty conduct, | asked the defendant what. he had to say for himself? jhe defendant, with inimitable assurance, said his worship was a humbug—the Pope was a humbug—the complainant was a hun bug—in fact, that all the world, save one individual christened Henry, was a humbug of the most forlorn and crass description. As for what he had | done, it, was his pleasure—in fact he had no other enjoyment—to squirt dirty water at everybody and everything. He had squirted ink at GEORGE THE Fourtn, and very lately at the Kine or Sarpinta. He had squirted at Pius tue Nintu, and for the same reason that he | would squirt at the man in the moon; namely, for the light and lustre | that surrounded him. The magistrate expressed the strongest regret that there was no law to reach the offender. “1 know that: I know the law,” said the defendant; ‘I know how far I can enjoy mischief and never pay for it. | say, old fellow,” added the hardened old boy, winking at the magistrate, “ perhaps you don’t know who signed ‘ Pugnose’ to the Chartist humbug; but J do.” And again the defendant impudently winked, and again the magis- trate regretted that there was no law to reach him. Blister and ’Ounds. Fearcus O’Connor tells us he received ninety wounds on one occasion at. Manchester. Are we to take this number as accurate, or golng | THE LION, THE COCK, AND THE EAGLES. StoRM-CLOUDS were over Europe, light slept on England’s breast, ‘he nations heaved with earthquake throes, but England was at rest; A ery went up from Passaro unto the Baltic shore, And every tongue but England’s had its echo in the roar, The couchant Lion from his cliff looked o’er the Channel-sea, To where the smoke wreathed o’er the wave its sulphurous canopy ; His ear erect, his big fore-paws stretched, claw-sheathed, out at length, And in his eye the calm that comes from consciousness of strength. Hark, hurtling wings and hurried! What flight thus cleaves the smoke ? The Gallic Cock—his mate and chicks—his crow changed to a croak, | Forlorn they stand about the strand, and cheep—all limp and lame—- | Cock missing hen, hen missing cock, for they scattered as they came. | Still looked the Lion o’er the sea, where the storm lay black as night, | When he was ’ware, high up in air, of a strange and sudden sight— Two huge black Hagles—double-beaked — their lean necks iron crowned, | At buffets with a screaming flight of their own eaglets round. | A ruffled mass of tossing plumes, red beaks, and rending claws, | Dashed all about the northern heavens—and then a panting pause— | And those two monster Eagles reeled bloody from the cloud Ot their own eaglets’ battle—crest-fallen, conquered, cowed. The Emperor Vulture of the North, from his Carpathian height Looked with a restless anger on that, stern but short-lived fight ; And uneasily kept. pacing his eyrie to and fro, And spread his broad black wing to hide {rom his brood what passed below. Then thought the Lion, “ So it is—a lesson written plain— I only, among beasts or birds, hold peaceable domain. The Gallic Cock was cratty, the Almaine Eagles strong— | But what are craftiness and strength, with folly, fraud, and wrong ? “Tn the shrillest of his crowing, the Cock is chased from power ; In the fiercest of their swooping, the Almaine Eagles cower ; | Il only hold untroubled rule o’er beasts of fold and field— I, that. know the strength of weakness, yield to keep, and keep to yield. | “ All beasts I take to council—the Fox’s craft I share | With the Elephant’s sagacity, the brute-force of the Bear, | The wisdom of the Serpent, the mildness of the Dove; || mate majesty with meekness, and wrathfulness with love. When the Ass insists on braying, the Ass is free to bray; | When the Bull-dog’s bent on growling, | give his grow] free way; | Allmy Macaws may scream their screams, my Parrots speak theirspeech, | All my Quacks, Professors, Preachers, may puff, profess, or preach. | T hold a time for all things—admit each fact. a fact— S-e the world changing round me, and with it change in act. I look on nought as final, save the Guod, and Just, and Right; With these for backers, what care 1 under what. flag 1 fight ? | * Jostle it out among ye, blind leaders of the blind, The windy empire of the Birds is little to mv mind. Light as your bodies float through air, so light your minds may range From theory to theory, from endless change to change. “Ye shall not stir the Lion from out his island Jair, In your brawlings, and your bluster, and your bickerings to share ; He keeps here in tis quiet nook, ringed by the salt sea-foam, For ali opinion a retreat—for all distress a home.” JOKES ABSOLUTELY THROWN AWAY. | SEvBRAL constables’ staffs, on the memorable Chartist-Petition- Failure, were made of Gutta Percha. We wonder such a fruitful sub- | ject has escaped joking. The soluble qualities of the “ best substitute ior caoutchouc” seem to melt almost into a rich cream of jokes. For instance, we can imagine its being said that Gutta Percha was selected purposely to enable the constables to stick to their duty, Again, we can fancy it probable some daring humourist would hint that such a material naturally was chosen to enable the Chartists, by being sworn | in, to prove their adhesion to the Government; or, in any case, there was a good chance of some one facetiously observing that the staff was put into their hands so that, in the event of their displaying any turbulent warmth, they would be bound down to keep the piece. We hope, when such a subject presents itself again, it will not be | allowed to pass with the same neglect which universal jokers have passed upon it this time, or else we shall have to reprimand our young to knock off the same liberal discount which reduced the signatures of | pupils severely. the Chartist, Petition one-fifth ? Eighteen wounds are not bad, and we think FEaRGus ought to be content with our generous taxation. Many persons would not have allowed him a single one. As it is, we may say (if the reader and Currey will forgive us) that how he has survived it, is a perfect wounder!!! INFRA DIG. A Market Gardener calls the rage for Trees of Liberty in Paris, and thinking they will survive, “only a pop’lar delusion.” VOL, XIV,

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174 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARIL. ALARMING INTELLIGENCE. Prutico has been in a perfect panic. The loyal neighbourh of Stafford Buildings has gone crazy—and indeed the houses were crazy enough before —at the startling announcement that if this, that, and the other, are not done to please Fearevs O’Connor, he (Fearcus O’Connor) will turn Republican. Fancy the adhesion of the ‘Convention Pet” being with- drawn from the Crown, and Monarchy losing the Prop it has hitherto pos- sessed in this lo thing. As to the Palace, we tremble at the most distant contemplation of | the melancholy effect that must be produced by the announcement that Fzarcus O'Connor threatens to turn Republican, reaching the ears of his sovereign. We can almost see in our mind’s eye—which, by the way, is most emphatically our total optic or “all our eye” —we can, we say, almost see Her Magesty rushing to one of the roval band- boxes, and thrusting into it that Crown which Frarcus O'Connor | has threatened with his contingent hostility. We can imagine the making of preparations for removing the establish- ment of the Royal Arms, and pees the Unicorn into the position of a London cab-horse, while the British Lion may be seen “ Alive, alive!” —like last Monday’s mackarel—in a caravan containing the trappings of Royalty, removed in consequence of Fearcus O’Connor having withdrawn from his allegiance. We hope Feanrcus will pause will not think of carrying out his Of course, if he joins Republicanism, the ¢ thing is done, as ete, everything else isdone (| ’ : that he meddles with. ml Let us hope that he will pause in time, and continue that very valuable career of loy- alty which has done so much to consoli- date the throne and the institutions of his country. Let him not rsevere, and drive is sovereign into pri- vate life, or Prince ALBERT into making a profit of those agricultural pursuits which he has hitherto cultivated only as an amusement. before he goes further, and that he Probable Line for the next Six Months. ** Amoncst the fashionables pant, we observed Count D’Orsay, Lorp Canteture, Duxe oF Beavront, Paince Georcz,—and Mp. Currey.”—Morning Post. udest of the friends | of Universal Nothing and Equal Every- | horrible threat of turning Republican. | BROUGHAM ON GOVERNMENT. Lorp Brovenam has volunteered an explanation of his request to be turned inside out into a Frenchman. It was only to protect his pro» perty when in France; as, on arriving in England, he could—upon the principle that one good turn deserves another—turn again, bringing the jermine outside. Curious, hewever, are the views of BroucHaM upon |government. Liberty is a tree that cannot grow in a Republic; and Truth is the amaranthine flower that will not flourish in a Court. A few nights since, in the House of Lords, BroucHam said :— “Let Veniee become a Republic if she pleases: perhaps she may find in that form of government some peculiar advantages; but there is one thing that she will not find, and that is liberty. Experience has led me to form this conelusion, that liberty is not a plant that can flourish in a Republic.” Let the reader turn to Brovenam’s Sketches of Statesmen, article (and what an article!) George the Fourth. He will there find these opinions applied to Kings and Courts :— “They who believe that they are exempt from the toils, and hardly liable to the casualties, of other mortals—all of whose associates and most of whose instructors set themselves about confirming this faith—are little likely to waste the midnight o'l in any contemplations but those of the debauchee ; and beings who can hardly bring themselves | to believe that they are subject to the common fate of humanity, are pretty certain to | own no inferior control.” Again; and this is rather strong :— **That thev who draw the breath of life in a Court, and pass all their days in an atmosphere of lies, should have any very sound regard for truth, is hardly to be expected.” From this it appears that Lorp Brovenam neither likes the repub- lican nor the monarchieal form of government. No: but he has a Utopia of his own; and Punch believes that he shall violate no confi- dence by briefly describing it in his Lordship’s words.—“ My dear | Punch,” said his Lordship to us—for it is well known that, in the hand- somest manner, LorpD BbrovuGHaM always sits to us when we require his portrait—‘‘ my dear Punch, a form of government is not a Republic, nor a Monarchy, nor an Oligarcby, nor a paternal Despotism—but the excellencies and advantages and manifold beauties of all these combined ; and in that government you will find—a paternal BrovcHam.” GREAT BARGAIN! Wuo wants a Brovena\, still fit for any sort of work ? | I’m arum ’un, p’rhaps, to look at, but a good ’un sure to go; The only thing I can’t abide at all is being short of work ; All weights I’m up to, but a bore—all paces, but the slow. There’s not a road in Europe but I’ve trundled — inch of it; From the palace to the pothouse, I know all, and all know me ; English boy or French postilion, 1’ll bowl you, willy nilly, on, And in a crack I’ll plant you, smack, where you never thought to be. | Either pikes or barricades, Sir, I’ll go at undismayed, Sir, | __ If my head you’ll only give me—else I’m stubborn asa bull; {No oak how tough, no odds how rough the work, I’m not afraid, Sir, There’s only one thing I can’t pass, and that’s a sack of wool. | L’ve run every sort of rig, Sir—Tory, Radical, and Whig, Sir— | I’ve come out in every character wheeled thing could figure in ; I’m vettura at Milan, Sir, I’m French caléche at. Cannes, Sir, | I’m drosky at St. Petersburgh, and wagen at Berlin. | For speed there’s nought can catch me, for pluck there’s nought can | match me, : The perfection of all drags, Sir, in my single self I blend; T’ll take odds as fast and far I go as Louis Bianc or ARaco, ' Be quite as rash, yet save the smash that waits them in the end. THE SWEETS OF SEDITION. Tue sweets in the sugar-shops of Dublin have lately run into the popular mould of warlike sedition. Thus, little children have been able to imbibe the instructions of MrrcHeLt anp Co. by buying a pike for a halfpenny, in painted sugar. This is instilling poison into the infant minds of Ireland with a vengeance. Any ammunition, from a cannon- ball in Spanish oo to a musket in chocolate, can be had, we are told, at these saccharine depdts. There is one consolation, however, that these arms will not stand fire, but are likely to run if they are at all warmly handled. This Young Ireland must be a tremendous fire- at these incendiary arsenals. tage of this new rage, and has written over his door, ‘‘ Pike-maker to the Infantry of Ireland.” Thus is Sedition made succulent to the most childish taste. eater, if, as we are informed, red-hot eoals are sold three for a penny, | One sweatmeat vendor has taken advan- | tn,

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. iy A ( Ir is a very remarkable fact connected with the late Chartist Petition, that the parties who appear to have contributed the largest amount of signatures were not forthcoming to back the document on the day of its presentation. Our artist, in his beautiful simplicity following the pictorial practice of the present day, has drawn from his own imagina- tion the exact representation of the passing of the procession; and in order to place our periodical quite on a par with our illustrated contemporaries, he has introduced almost as many characters that never were engaged in the ceremony, as are usually to be found in the views of passing events that are drawn expressly by “artists on the spot” —which spot, by the way, is always that convenient spot, their own lodgings—for the illuminated journals. ‘The Chartist Procession, with which we this day present our readers, is in accordance with the view we should be justified in taking of it, if the signatures to the Petition were bond fide, and comprised of the actual autographs of the illustrious personages whose names were found appended to the document in conjunction with those of the heroic UGNOsES, FLatNosss, and other great nasal organs of Chartist opinion that seemed desirous of being heard in favour of the six pints, or three quarts, as our friend Currezy has ingeniously designated his favourite measures. Had the petition been anything but a hoax, Her Maszsty would have been at an early hour wending her way towards Kennington Common with seventeen Duxes oF WELLINGTON at her side, and Sir R. Pern would have been conspicuous in the van that was bearing the | monster document. | | | ai We Wii! / WM / if ee — am «vs j/ we THE CHARTIST PROCESSION ACCORDING TO THE SIGNATURES OF THE PETITION. Perhaps, after all, the two Premiers—ex and present—have as much | interest as the Currgys the Reynoxpszs, and the M‘Gratus in one ye, “| a ‘AN Te Gio Nae ¢ yee ~ AX\ 3 Che 3 = >~ —— ANN) 1d a nm oa =\3\ 2 eo ia cee ~{ SII TAA UR ONAL YTS | ) Wall s8 AAS \ WW = == ; Y BEG AS Vy Nes SE SHIN \ | ys = G = CHEEKS THE | j MARINE: |=={EXTENSION \ wal | — oF THE OLD

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176 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI at least of the points of the Charter—the payment of Members— for Lorp Joun Russewt and Sir R. Peet would, at least, have some prospect of earning the money, while the Chartist heroes, if they did happen to get smuggled into the Legislature once, would so disgust their own constituents that the salaries would soon be stopped to such worthless representatives. THE RAGGED REVOLUTION. RAGGED LETTERS. HARLES CocuranE—the Poor Man’s Advertised Friend—is the very hero of rags. His soun-kettle is not merely ‘“tinkling brass,” but an instrument of loud-sounding metal, whereupon he drums and heats his continual self-glorification. CocHRANE for popularity; nevertheless—it does verv shabby penn’orth for his hard ' cash. The women of Westminster, ‘1) who covered themselves with eonfu- 4s sion and blue ribands—when Cocnu- RANE was blighted as M. P.—notwith- standing behaved very handsomely to him when he called the meeting in Trafalgar Square, having worked two | market price for every limb. flags in black and white worsted—a skull and cross-bones as natural as death—wherewith their hero was to walk, as straight as possible, to Buckingham Palace. Why Cocuranye staid at home it is not our arse to inquire. That knotty point we leave for the teeth of istory. However, following our hero, we now find him in the workhouses of London. Determined upona Ragged Revolution which should repeal the English Unions, Coartes Cocurane addressed a circular to the on Easter Monday from Leicester Square to Downing Street, by Whitehall. The letter was a very pretty thing. On one side was, “No Bastiles!” illustrated by a portr it of Cocurane waving a bird’s- eye handkerchief upon a s‘ick, above the ruins of St. James’s Work- house. ‘After you have secured the contents of this in your brain, and stamped its impression upon your heart, be pleased to put it in vour hat for the grand deputation on Easter Monday at one, Horse- Guards’ time.” ‘This was the touching exhortation of C. C. on the cover of the Circular. The contents were as follow :— “As it is very likely, from a base and contemptible envy of my | growing reputation, you may not be permitted by your stony-hearted tyrants to come yourselves,—send your friends. And if [ am not there to head the procession, be sure of one thing: they will find the Police. “Your friend till death (but not to the Station-House), * Cuartes CocHRraNeE.” What is to be said of the gratitude of human nature—how can it be defended—after a dispassionate perusal of the subjoined letters, written by pauper hands, and forwarded from various Unions to the “ Poor Man’s Friend?” Why, they are enough to make C. C. throw down the cap and bells of trading philanthropy, and turn man-hater for the rest of his life. We give the first epistle :— - ** St. James’s Union, April 19. “T have been an inmate of this place for three years; once kept a comfortable house and all that, and know what the bitterness of a Union is. Nevertheless, Sir, I don’t choose my poverty to be made the plaything of men with the disease of popularity raging, like the small-pox, in’em. Let me alone, Sir. I have my wretchedness, but leave it to me: don’t approach it: don’t affect a sympathy with it, to mum the part of benefactor, even as a mounte! ank, in his spangled jacket, plays on a carpet in the open street. The Poor Man’s Friend! Are you indeed that, Sir ? _“* Well, then, you seek the poor in silence and solitude. It is suffi- cient. consolation to your large heart, touched with the woes—many of ’em, I fear, not altogether curable by state plaster—with the misery of your fellow-creatures, to lessen and soothe them, content that only God énd his angels should see you. Thad is popularity enough for you; ‘hat is public sufficient. “You are the Poor Man’s Friend, and you do good, silently as the dew falls to the ground, making fruitful things spring up. * No, you don’t! You rattle your soup-kettle as a trading tinker rattles his pot! You stand in the highway and bawl your benevolence ; and like a man who offers for sale a certain something to take out spots of paint and grease from the coats of all comers, you, with your \) sometimes happen—ke has had but a} has laid out a tolerable sum of money | : —— : he | for an omnibus-conductor. poor, calling upon them to send their friends to take a walk with him | specific, would minister to the cure of poverty, of wretchedness, and pain. “T won’t have it, Sir. Iwon’t be tried upon. I won’t have you make experiments with my misery—leave me alone. Let the poor wear their tatters in quiet; why should you tog yourself in their rags to act the philanthropist ? The real Poor Man’s Friend doesn’t dress and paint himself for the part: and why not? Because, when he really performs, he doesn’t call all the world to look at him. ** Yours, (about to break stones), “ Joun Srrait.” We shall give only another epistle; recommended by its brevity :— “Mister CoacHRANE, “sunt giles his onion inn the fieldes. “i knos yer. ive heerde of Traff al Garr. ive got too pick ocum. Hand ard it his, butt no ocum soe hardd too pic as your yarn too swaller, . “i am yourn, “ PETER BRIC.” THE MODEL MAGISTRATE. He is a barrister with a subdued practice, and but little known beyond the usher of his Court. He soon learns, however, that the scales of Justice have two sides—one for the rich, one for the poor. The balance, as he holds it, is rarely equal. For the one there is a fine, “ which is | immediately paid;” for the other there is the House of Correction, | with hard labour. The gentleman is invited to a seat on the bench; the pauper is kindly informed that “he had better mind what he is about.” or a donation to the poor-box. He knows the intrinsic value of every assault, and has fixed a | An eye costs very little more than a case | of drunkenness. A broken head he puts down at a couple of sovereigns, | He is sorry to see young gentlemen, | “who have been dining out,” forget themselves so, and will only fine | them five shillings this time. before. He will have no trading on the kerbstones. He has great faith in the words of the police, and calls them by their real names. He has a just hatred of a cabman, only to be equalled by his profound aversion He sees a poacher in every smockfrock. All beggars he sentences to the Mill. He addresses a pickpocket as “Sir,” and is sarcastic upon boys, calling them “ young gentlemen.” He delights in summoning overseers, and beadles, and enjoys a good collision with the workhouse. He regrets exceedingly to commit a nobleman. He has a private room for a lady shoplifter, and is glad to inform her that she “leaves this Court with her character quite unim- pugned,” though the matter has been compromised within his hearing. He has the most sublime contempt for the opinions of the press. He does not care what. they say of him, though he does inveigh sometimes rather strongly against them. He does not like his law to be questioned, but of the two evils prefers a lawyer to a barrister. He jokes some- times, and the whole Court, excepting the poor prisoner, at whose expense the lugubrious joke is cut, laughs tremendously. He is sure he has seen every applewoman | ‘The Model Magistrate arrives at the Police Office at 10, but does not | mind keeping the Court waiting. He leaves as soon as he can, though he is not very partial to visits at his own residence. But what he likes least are remonstrances from the Home Office, for, strangely enough, a Magistrate has been dismissed before now. ‘his may have some little influence in keeping the race of Model Magistrates rather restricted. May it soon become extinct ! committing himself as well as others! M. LEDRU-ROLLIN’S NEW RIGHTS OF (FRENCH) MAN. Rights of Persons. 1. To do everything that M. Lepru-Rot.iw and his party bid them. 2. To give everything that M. Lepru-Ro.uiw an them for. : 3. To elect anybody that M. Lepru-Roxurw and his party point out to them. Rights of Property. 1. The wages of the working classes shall be equal. 2. The property of the rich shall be at the disposal of M. Levrv- Roun and his party. Rights of the Press. 1. The journals are free to say anything in praise of M, Leprv- | Ro in and his party. PARLIAMENTARY INTELLIGENGE. Ir was reported at all the Clubs yesterday, that CotoneL SrpTHORP had withdrawn himself from Parliament, whereon a deputation from Lincoln had immediately waited upon Mr. Currey, praying him to succeed the gallant Colonel. Mr. Currey’s answer is not yet known. It is most pitiful to hear of a Magistrate | his party ask |

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ny . a = f SSS : SSS ESS SSS ~ mAS: 7 a = => , At ee co NULLA JOHN BULL'S ALIEN ACT. | 1 Bull, « 1LL ‘PROPAGANDA’ YOU, YOU MEDDLING FRENCH SCOUNDREL. TAKE THAT— |

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A. PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 181 THE CITY TOLLS. WE feel it our duty to call the attention of the civic authorities to the recent establishment of a rival toll at the corner of St Paul’s Churchyard, | which levies contributions upon the female foot-passengers as strictly | as the Flying Pikeman at the corner of Chancery Lane makes his claim | upon passing vehicles. The toll at the corner of St. Paul’s Churchyard has been gradually growing into a permanent exaction during the last twelve months, and it may now be said to have acquired all the authority of long custom. The collector is a black fellow—one of the original importers of the celebrated Indian dodge, that has inflicted so much loss upon our native mendicants. This impudent Malay addresses his demand for toll to all ladies unaccompanied by gentlemen, who happen to pass by him; and his mode of collection consists of a violent thrusting of his hand into the face of the female passenger, with a sort of dismal | growl, which is converted into a malignant muttering if his demand is | not complied with. | We are not aware of the revenue produced by this toll, or whether it | forms any part of the City funds, but the collection is very rigorously / made, and any attempt to elude payment is almost impossible. We have often thought the turnpike man at ‘T'emple Bar tolerably resolute in hanging on to the back of carts, clinging to the spokes of coal-waggons, and jumping into the midst of baskets of clean linen, when the drivers of the vehicles containing them have shown a disposition to omit the usual fee; but we can assure the Lorp Mayor and Corporation that their toll-collector at the corner of the City is mild, gentlemanly, and forbearing in comparison with the Malay at the corner of St. Paul’s Churchyard, who pounces, sometbing after the, to him, local fashion of a tiger on his prey, upon all the well-dressed females who pass, and who seem likely to be agitated or otherwise intimidated out of their loose silver or their halfpence. ENGLISH SUBSTITUTES FOR GERMAN SPAS. THE utmost consternation is beginning to prevail among the English habitués of the German Spas, in consequence of the probability that all access to them will be cut off during the ensuing season; and it will therefore be desirable to find some substitute near home, where a kind of fashionable watering-place may be got up, presenting all the agrémens of Baden-Baden, with all the comeatableness of a suburban tea-garden. We understand that the proprietor of St. Chad’s Well, in om Lane—familiarly known as the Montpelier of Holborn, —has been making arrangements with a view of trying, on a small scale, the experiment of converting his establishment into a fashionable Spa, combining all the attractions to be met with on the Continent. It is well known that gambling forms one of the chief sources of amusement at the Spas abroad; but this pastime being unpopular among the better classes in England, it has been determined to intro- duce at St. Chad’s Well nothing in the shape of rouge-et-noir, but simply to afford the public an opportunity of playing at the game which has been so popular for centuries at our English faira, and consists in turning round a sort of iron dart upon a board, which is surrounded at certain distances by pieces of good wholesome British ingerbread. The fine old Saxon Skittle will also be set up for the amusement of the more muscular of the diletéanti ; and that popular puppy to which our ancestors have prefixed the epithet bumble, will enable the lovers of bumble-puppy to indulge in their favourite pastime. We have every confidence in the arrangements that are being made; and when we consider the facilities that exist for reaching Gray’s-Inn Lane—when we remember that threepence will transport the denizen of the distant regions of Kensington to the New Road frontier—we feel convinced that St. Chad will soon be restored to his old place in the affections of the British people. THE ART OF FIGHTING A DUEL. (“In a Parliamentary Sense.”) Be valiant. Don’t weigh your insult, The heavier it is the better. Throw Smale at your opponent, and if it floors him, be quick and another. he legal time for the duel is uncertain. It is according to the sport, and comparative skill of the opponents. Sometimes it is interrupted at the first shot. If you are very smart, you may load and fire several times. It is best, however, after an exchange or two to get some friend to cry “Order.” This is the more necessary if you are getting the worst of it. The House will soon take up the cry. The Speaker next interferes. He will appeal to you asa gentleman. You must not be surprised at this, but talk of your honour. Leave the House instantly, first telling your man, with a pair of duelling eyes, that “‘he shall hear from you.” You will be pursued, of course, by the Serjeant-at-Arms. Don’t be foolish, but follow him quietly, and be grateful to him for the opportunity. You will be conducted to the Speaker. He will remind you, in the most pathetic manner, of your insult. He will tell you it is very wrong. He will insist that it does not go any further. You will say you never meant that it should. If you insulted your opponent, it was not personally. No: you have the highest opinion of him—you always had, and you only intended to insult him in a_parliamentary sense. You will be cheered for this manly confession. Your opponent will rise, and say the very same thing, He will be cheered. You will cross over and shake hands with him. You both will be cheered tremendously, and if you are very forgiving you can retire arm-in-arm to finish the duel at BEeLLAmy’s, or you can adjourn it till the next house-dinner day at the Club. : N.B. By following these simple rules, you may fight your six duels every session, and kill your six men easily, and be perfectly alive to resume the sport the following year. Royal Jealousy. Tue Duxe or Camprince is getting rather uneasy about the grow- ing popularity of Mr. Currey, and his numerous invitations to dinner, His Royal Highness has given all Charities distinctly to understand, that he will not attend where Mr. Currey is invited. There has been reat ‘agitation down in the kitchens of the principal taverns, which 9 since spread to the drawing-rooms of May Fair. Several noble- men have undertaken to persuade His Royal Highness to break his resolution, on condition that Currey comes in only at dessert. It is feared that the Duke will reject this compromise. “NOT SO GREEN AS THEY LOOK.” A HORTICULTURAL paper says, “ Many of the trees of Liberty will go long before they get any leaves.” In this case it is but natural to suppose they will take French ones.

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL

HOW TO TREAT A FOREIGN PROPAGANDIST. Ws are glad to find that the dirty long-bearded foreign Pro are coming in for the sort of treatment they deserve. Everybody knows the story of the French revolutionist lamenting the other day in Trafalgar Square the want of pluck of the British people, when a British butcher boy, taking off his coat, gave the brave républicain such | a sound thrashing that its echo might have been heard half way down |

| _ AS <— | f k | £ = E. ih i} < 3 eo 4 = ~}\}'e = = ¥ i = ee sie ——

WE TRUST NO ONE WOULD EVER THINK OF SUCH A THING AS PUTTING dists | Charing Cross. This treatment of a foreign Propagandist may have | been a little too summary, perba his revolutionary stuff, or doubt English pluck, why—

psi but at all events there can be no harm in our expressing a hope that the hint will be good-humouredly followed up; and should any foreigner of any description begin to prate THE Frencu AGITATOR INTO THE FounTAINS AT TRAFALGAR SQUARE | '

AN AFTER-DINNER CONVERSATION.

Coronet Srapy, an English Gentl Mr. Bexsamin Dizzy, Ditto and Memb

of Parl ’ Ditto | Mr. Y. Doopre, a Gentleman from Philadelphia. Mr. Currez, a Delegate.

Gentleman from Philadelphia, Tuat cider we had at dinner was tarnation good, but d—— your pickles, CoLoneL. Why, the stones on ’em’s fit to choke a body. Colonel. Cider! Pickles! The cider was champagne, and the pickles are olives, Mr. Yanxer. (Aside.} What an ignorant son of a gun it is! Mr. Benjamin. I never could understand, Mz. Curves, why an olive tree should have been selected as an emblem of peace. It has an ungainly trunk, a scanty foliage, and a bitter fruit. It grows where no other trees will grow; I have seen it, Susy, lining the bleak hill sides of ¥? native Syrian bills, and speckling the mangy mounds which they | call hills in Attica. BroveHam cultivates oil yards at his place in Provence—a comfortable box enough, where he and I have speared a boar many a time. But the Greeks were fools in their choice of imagery. They call an olive tree peaceful, which neither gives shade nor fruit fit to speak of; as they call an owl wise, which only knows how to hog the dark, and is a beast unfit for day-light. Peace is a me oe re b the sun. a bo el. e deuce are you a driving at, about suns, palm trees, owls, and emblems of peace? Pass round the claret, Dizzy, and give Mx. Currez a glass. , Cuffee. Thank ye, Colonel ; I stick to Port. And yours is uncommon rich and strong, to be sure. My service to you, gents. I suppose a ave a reglar fish and soup dinner, as we ad, and wine every

Colonel. Ha, ha! Here’s Mrs. Currer’s health. : Cuffce. Tnank ye, gents. She’s gone out engaged professionally, with Miss Marttn, or I’m sure she would like to ave ad her legs under ¢his maogany. What’s the use of keeping the clothon it? You ain’t ashamed on it, Colonel, are you ? , Colonel. Good for washing, you know. Ha, ha! had him there. How are you off for soap ?—Has your mother sold her mangle ? Good for trade, don’t you see ? ; Mr. Dizzy. We wrap up everything in this country, my worthy CurFr&E. e put a wig on my Lord Chancellor’s head as we do powder on the pate of that servant at whom I saw you winking at dinner. We call a man inthe House an honourable gentleman; we dish up a bishop in an apron. | fashioned bags and buckles. We are as lavish of symbols as the Papists, whom we are always abusing for idol worship. And we grovel in old-world ceremonies and superstitions of which we are too stupid 5 see - meaning, the folly, or the beauty. Do you apprehend me, UFFEE Cuffee. I'll take a back-hand at the Port—hey, neighbour ? American Gentleman (shrinking back), 1 wish that man of colour would | know his place. We go to Court dressed in absurd old- |

Mr. Benjamin. You complain that the cloth is left for dessert ; why | was it on at dinner? The Colonel’s soup would have been just as good on a deal-table.

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARLI. 183 Sibby. But where would Mns. Currez and her mangle have been? No table-cloth, no washerwoman. Cuffee. Washin and luxuries be blowed, I say. What I want is that every man should have a bellyful, and (here’s my health to you, Colonel) that there should be no superfluities. I say we ave ad victuals and drink enough to support twenty men. Look at this table and all this your plate. This year gilt fork (don’t be afraid, T ain’t a going to prig it, Colonel) would keep a family fora week. You’ve got a dozen of em. hy shouldyou? I once ad two teaspoons marked withaC; but that was in appier times, and they are separated now. Why are you to ave dozens? Whataveyoudone for’em? You toil not, neither do you spin. You ain’t a Sotomon in all your glory, certainly. You are no better than me; why should you be better hoff? And not you only, but those that is higher than you. The time has come for doing away with these superfluities, and that’s the great Principles of Free- dom. Your health, Citizen. Mr. Dizzy. If our friend the Colonel had no security for his spoons, those articles, which are indeed very elegant, would lose half their worth. My horse may be worth twenty pounds in London now; but if I am certain that the Government will take possession of him to mount the cavalry, my tenure in the brute becomes hazardous, and his value instantly drops. And suppose you were to make a general distribution of all the spoons in the kingdom—what would happen next? He would exchange his silver for bread; that is, the man who had the most bread would come into possession of the most spoons, as now. Would you commence the process over again? You propose an absurdity, Mz. Currez. No: our friend and host has as good a right to his forks as to his teeth; and may he long use both in the discussion of his meals. : ; Mr. Cuffee. The law of man and nature is—that a man should live, and that he is as good as his neighbour. No honest Chartist wants your rights, he only wants his own. The Aristocracy have managed matters for us so badly: have made themselves so rich and us so poor, by managing for us, that now we’re determined to manage for ourselves. We can’t be worse— Mr. Dizzy. Yes, I say you can. Mr. Cuffee. 1 say, again, we can’t be worse: and that we are the strongest, and mean to have it. We’ll come down in the might of our millions, and say we will be heard—we will be represented—we will be fed—or if not— ; _ Mr. Dizzy. That’s your Convention talk, Currzz—don’t talk to us in that way. 7 Sibby. No, no, ie may wish it, and you may wish you may get it; but since the 10th, I think that cock won’t fight—Ay, my boy? I say, wasn’t that a glorious sight, Mr. Doopiz, to see a people rally round their Queen in the way that the citizens did ? Gentleman from P. Rally round the Queen! You would have had to fo to Osborne to do that. uffee (with a satirical air). Where His Royal Highness, the Prince, was a taking care of HER Masgsty. Dizzy. Pish! The flag-staff was here, on Buckingham Palace arch, with the crown on the top— What matter that the flag was down? | dear Sir, Monarchy is but a symbol, by which we represent Union, Order, and Property. Sibby. Our Glorious Constitution, dammy ! Dizzy. And we can rally round a stick just as well as a living sove- reign. The times are gone by when kings turned out with white naches, and tilted against their enemies like so many dragoons. ould you have had Her Magesry, on a side-saddle, haranguing the police, and His Royal Highness the Prince carrying a baton P Cuffee. He is a Field-Marshal, ain’t he ? Sibby. Ha, ha! Had him there, CurFze ! Dizzy. His Royal Highness is, so to speak, only an august ceremony. He is an attendant upon the Ark of the Monarchy ; we put that out of danger when commotions menace us. , Cuffee. If a stick would do as well as a sovereign, why not have one? It don’t cost as much—it never dies. It might be kep in a box lined with erming, and have a stamp at the end to sign the warrants. And it might be done for less than four hundred thousand a year. Gentleman from P. We can do it for less in our country—our President, Mr. Pork, for instance. ; Dizzy. Your President, Mr. Pox, cost you a Mexican war: how many millions of dollars is that? If in this country we were to have an election every year, a struggle for the President’s chair every three years, men taking advantage of the excitement of the day, and out- idding each other on the popular cry, we should lose in mere money, ten times as much as the Sovereign costs us. Look over the water at your beloved France, Mr. Curree. Cuffee, Veeve la liberty (drinks). _ Dizzy. They have already spent two hundred millions of our money in getting rid of old Utysses. What is the value of the daily produce of a nation? When Mr. Currez is professionally occupied, he earns— how much shall we say ? . hw Say five bob a day, you won’t be far wrong; and here’s your My | Dizsy. He loses thirty shillings every week, then, that he does not work; and either of free will or necessity spends it. If he does not work himself, if he prevents others from working, if he frightens customers, our worthy friend ties the hands of labour, and stops the growth of bread. Cuffee. You mean by all these grand phrases that there will be a convulsion, during which the labour of the country will stop tem- porary ?—of course there will. But then see how much better we shall be after, and how much freer to work! Why, give us our six ints (and have ’em we will) and this country becomes a re utropia. The Colonel, Explain—Mx. Currze—explain ! Mr. Cuffee. I will, Gents, I will: but the bottle’s empty, and, if you please, Jonn shall bring another, so as not to interrupt me. (The Colonel rings for more wine. ASTRONOMICAL AMUSEMENTS. Passion Werx has restored to us, as usual, our old friend ApaMs, with his canvas solar system, his spermaceti stars, his oil moon, his gas sun, and his rushlight satellites. We are always delighted to meet with him every year, but we hope, for his sake, that the astrono- mers will give him breathing-time ; for discoveries are now going on so rapidly, that it costs him a little mint per annum in adding new planets. if he is compelled to go on enlarging at the rate of the last four or five seasons, the thing will never pay; for he was, in 1847, com- pelled to augment his astronomical establishment, and this present Lent we find him advertising no less than—“ Five New Puanets.” If we were in Apams’s place we would get beforehand with the astronomers, and stick on a dozen new planets at once, in anticipation of what may be brought to light during the ensuing lustrum; for we understand that his planet manufacturer will charge no more for making a dozen or so while his hand is in, than he would for producing a solitary star if ordered separate. We believe the principle of a single comet at the wholesale price does not prevail, but that it is with con- stellations as with kid gloves, and other articles of ordinary traffic—a reduction on taking a quantity. A HUMBLE ATTEMPT TO ILLUSTRATE THE MUSIC OF THE SPHERES, There is only one thing wanting to give completeness to the Pro- fessor’s exhibition, and that is some appropriate music; but we have every reason to believe that he will form an arrangement for introducing the original music of the spheres at his next year’s entertainment. “The Noble Earl Explained.” ‘Mrz. Puncn,—Permit me to observe, when I stated that Lorp Campse.t had filled the post of Lord Chancellor of Ireland ‘for a very brief period,’ I had no intention of suggesting to the arithmetical genius of the country the following sum :—‘If Lorp Campsett, for a Chan- cellorship of three months, takes a retiring pension of £3692, enjoying the said pension for, we will su oo twenty years—how much will the amount reward his late official life per minute?’ “Tassure you, Mr. Punch, whatever may be said to the contrary, I had no intention of suggesting any such democratic calculation, and am your constant reader (in the House), “Sr. Germains.”

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PUNCH, OR A TRIP TO PARIS IN SEARCH OF LIBERTY. | M:LAMARTIN E. A SANGUINE gentleman, whom we call not a Democrat, or a,Republican, or a Chartist—for | we dislike calling names—went to Paris in search of Liberty. The first day he met a troop of his own countrymen. Their wives and children were with | them; they were in tears. “ We have been expelled,” said one of the men, “ because we | are Englishmen; our wages have not been paid to us, and we have lost all our instruments. ‘The money we had put into the Savings Banks has even been denied to us: we have nothing | but charity to depend upon.” ‘Ihe gentleman would scarcely believe his senses. “I have —_ a mistake,” he said, after giving them a trifle; “surely this is not what they call iberty ?’ _The second day he read a circular of a Minister of Instruction, in which electors were directed to choose those men whose greatest recommendation was their ignorance—not talent, | nor wealth, nor character, nor position were to be a Member’s qualifications ; but ignorance, | and the greater the better. He said nothing, but thought to himself, “Hum! this is | strange Liberty.” Thethird day he met bands of vagabonds parading the streets of Paris. Their occupation was to break the windows of those who wauld nat illuminate. Thus they went from house to house, insisting upon a blaze of tallow candles and /ampions. He who refused had not, the next moment, an unsmashed pane left in his house, Liberty had ever been viewed in this light before ? THE LONDON CHARIVARL. | Mars, to listen te this prophet ; | versal plantation of trees. The fourth day he attended a large meeting of workmen. He sympathised with them when they talked of their wrongs. His heart beat for them when they vowed that all they wanted was | They went in a body to their master’s He followed them. justice. factory. The mas.er could “Very well,” said the foreman, “ you must close your doors;” and a | guard was appointed, to prevent any workman entering the tactory. The Englishman’s face lengthened, and his head dropt, as he heard Liberty. They unrolled , | their grievances. ‘They must have double wages; | they must work less; they must have a share in |the profits of the concern. | not yield these demands. |these proceedings coupled with the name of | The fifth day he paid a visit to a Democratic | Club. He expected to hear the loftiest patriotism, the noblest sentiments of humanity. A long- bearded gentleman was speaking. He claimed equality of riches; everything should be in common; same wages, Same profits, same every- thing. ‘The wealthy should give to the poor ; if not, the poor had a right to take from the wealthy. ‘The Provisional Committee were all traitors. France would not be free before every arist.crat’s head was rolling in the dust. The Englishman shuddered at these new notions | of equality. He inquired who the speaker was. He was informed in a whisper, “ A convicted spy of the late Government.” He could not help looking with suspicion on this fiery apostle of Liberty. However, it was mere talk, he thought ; but he was astonished, the next day, to hear that 20,000 men had assembled in the Champ de | and that they had proceeded to the Hotel de Ville, to demand fresh concessions. ‘These were granted ; and the Englishman began to doubt whether this was the | best. way of proving the holy rights of Liberty. | The sixth day he was amused with the uni- enough, and the Englishman only smiled at the sport. ‘‘ May they all bear good fruit!” he said; but in the midule of the night the rappel was sounded, the streets were in alarm; the Govern- ment was overturned; Paris was in flames; and | reports equally agreeable, but equally untrue. Tue Euglishman went to bed again, only too glad to hear it was a false alarm; but the same thing was repeated the following night, and the night after that; and he came to the conclusion there must be some- thing the matter with Liberty, since she passed such restless nights. ‘The following morning the Englishman packed up. He had seen enough oi Liberty to last him all bis lite. He is now in England, and has made up his mind never to leave it again; not, at all events, before the Liberty it enjoys ceases many other ‘this was harmless | to be a practice, and becomes a mad, imprac- | ticable theory. Since his arrival in London, | he has drawn up the following programme of | Liberty —_ There are different kinds of Liberty. ‘There is the Liberty of smashing windows. There is the Liberty of not paying your rents, There is the Liberty of not doing anything, and receiving a franc a-day for it. l'here is the Liberty of seizing upon railways which do not belong to you. ‘There is the Liberty of the Bank to suspend | cash payments. There is, likewise, the Liberty of kicking any foreigner out of the country, whois cleverer than yourself, to say nothing of the smalier Liberty of playing at gardening, and at soldiers, and making speeches about Liberty, and a host of other Liberties, which are freely taken without | the slightest degree of Liberty. Our Englishman says, however, and we must admire his good sense, that he would not ex- change all those Liberties, popular as they may e was astonished, and wondered if| be im Paris, for the simple one of Order and Peace which he enjoys in England.

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 185 “IT IS OUR OPENING DAY.” enh Plt } 7 A Wh titi lil! ‘| | > = wn) W *+On Monday the first of May, the Royal Academy consented to open its doors for the usual price of one shillin, included. The rush of artists was well sustained this year, and the numerous falls on the staircase proved once more the powerful truth, that the greatest genius is apt to fall when he attempts too bold a flight. The admission to the Academy is a most slippery thing, and many an artist who thinks that he is just on the point of entering, finds the door-handle slip through his epetes fingers, and that he is driven back for another year. Several, however, get up again, not at all hurt by their fall, and, mounting step by step, rise at last to the very top of the Academy, going far beyond the very men who first excluded them. The forty R.A.’s have earned the reputation of being dreadful “ exclu- sives,” and we must say the hard raps they have received for shutting their doors in the face of rising talent, have not been given without a very handle. But we intend to pay a “bobbing” visit to this Royal Exhibition, and then we shall be able to report whether it is a good shilling’s-worth, or whether it is not worth a rush. = One t is ce’ : there is sure to be plenty for the money; but that is a recommendation which ought to limited solely to stale try. These Pictures of the English, painted by Themselves, ought to be published gratuitously. They certainly manage these things better in France, and we never recollect hearing of an instance of a gamin cutting up with his penknife the portrait of any one at the Louvre, or g, umbrellas at the door |}, of a chiffonier walking off with a statue under his arm. The British Public, however, is never admitted anywhere unless he has a silver ticket; but no: we are wrong, they do let him in at Westminster Abbey with a copper one—and a precious let in it is ! A PETITION FROM PETER PINDAR THE THIRD, TO MR. PUNCH. SovereIen of all the jesters, autocrat . More dread than Russia’s page barbaric, We humbly beg thee on the back to pat, And set up in thy type this lay Pindaric, A Scot once met a Briton, each a sticker For his own country’s fame—their names you ’ll pardon— And the two fools debated o’er their liquor The merits of a Scotch and English garden, SawNeY maintained, with slow enunciation, “So help him good St. AnpReEw at his need, That plums and peaches never reached perfection Or near it, one Scotch furlong south of Tweed.” The burly Briton swore with native wrath, By all a Briton’s oaths—I won’t repeat ’em— “ As for all wall-fruit from the starving North, Burn his old breeches, if a pig would eat ’em,” *Twas clear the case could not thus be decided, Each backed through thick and thin his own avowals ; Their swords were out, all compromise derided, And Sawyer ran the Briton through the bowels, Repenting when too late, and on his knees, nt on consoling to his utmost power, ** Freend, I forgot,” howls Sawney, “to premeese J like them vera’ hard and vera’ sour.” Friend,” replies Butt, “I’m glad there’s enough life in me To tell you that I quite forgive your haste ; But why the devil, ere you stuck ome knife in me, Didn’t you tell me your outlandish taste?” Sire! such a time as ours your wisdom craves, For every man need of his seven senses, When all the fools at home, and foreign knaves Would goad Joun Butt to break down his good fences. We therefore pray your witship, ere we quarrel, And send conciliation to the right about, To knock into your lieges’ heads this moral, For Heay’n’s sake first to settle what they fight about. IMPORTANT LEGAL DECISION. Iw a case the other day, in the Court of Common Pleas, Mr. Justice Mautz laid it down with considerable learning and acuteness, that a tiger or any other wild beast is decidedly distrainable for rent. This is a “real blessing to landlords,” who have only to take advantage of the clause in the Act, to seize the claws in the tiger, if the livery of seisin does not happen to be anticipated by the animal himself. As to the hyena, we are quite sure that he would take care to defeat the statute in his own peculiarly pleasant manner, by laughing the plaintiff, as hyenas will, completely out of court. We believe that a bear may also be taken for debt, unless he comes over the creditor’s attorney by that species of huggery in which bears are frequently skilled. We have it likewise on excellent authority, that if A. owes B. money, and A. is owner of an elephant, B. may detain the elephant’s trunk till the debt is paid; and it is also tolerably clear in all the books, that a boa-constrictor lying dormant, as if dead, in a deal box, is recoverable by an action on the case ; but if the plaintiff mixes himself up with the boa-constrictor, so as to identify himself with it, he, the plaintiff, will not be recoverable at all. If the boa-constrictor should unfold his tail early enough, the plaintiff may have a severance; but otherwise, says Mr, Justice MavLz, he must inevitably be quashed. The Soyer Sauce. M. Soren has invented a new sauce—a day or two ago there was a magnificent article upon it in the Chronicle, written by Mz. DisRaELI— a new sauce of such wondrous power that with it CotoneL SrsTHORP has already professed himself ready to swallow the Charter ! VOL, XIV.

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186 PUNCH. OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. PUNCH ON STREET-FIGHTING. jence.as'General-in-Chief of the Artillery of Wit, and Commander of the Forces of Humour, am enabled to give some suggestions upon the practice of Street-Fighting. I do not recommend the plan by some of my contemporaries, and by some From.a long e isloyal maniacs in multitude. MERRY MAY IN PARLIAMENT. May was never before so busy in Par- liament. The Whigs—who may now be considered the political sweeps of the country—promised a capital show on the Ist. JACK-IN-THE-GREEN RUSSELL was blin, who would throw down} jit , i their chimney-pots, wash-hand-stands, looking-glasses, | blithe end confident ss ever; dancing bedsteads, and other furniture, on the troops or the = aioters, as the case may be; i >> gmether mode of warfare to be adopted, - have a wonderful effect in keeping down an excited | I should propose, in the first instance, | throwing up a breast-work of four-pounders—I mean | about as though clothed in immortal f | laurel. Then the CHANCELLOR OF THE but I think there is| ExcHEQUER rattled the box for the Indian which would | oan ; then there was the hornpipe (with Whig double-shuffle) of the Aliens Bill; | then Merry May brought up the Jews | to have their Disabilities removed; and four-pound loaves—and I would then call over the| then Lonp Morrets was to goon blowing muster-roll, by mustering all the rolls T could lay my hands y flour of my army ; and J am convinced that the force would This I should look upon as the very | Gary : cntin eliinienh to beep po the Soap-and-Water Bubbles Bill. L On im check a party | the léth we are to have the Navigation of insurgents, who, receiving the four-pounders in their stomachs, would get what is vulgarly called) jaws set right. Indeed, everything seems a bellyful. I would recommend that these forces should be well flanked up by a division of Barctay and Perktns’s Heavies, and I am sure that the united force would be irresistible. With reference to artillery for street purposes, I am prepared to advise the use of the pop-gun on a gigantic scale, which should be loaded up to its muzzle with grape —in the shape of ‘wine—and with ammunition of various kinds, such as and other effective missiles. It is certam that if the disaffected were be more efficacious than ‘barrels of gunpowder, and nothing would be easier than to secure the ring- leaders, if they had been well played upon by the-double-barrelled force I have suggeste: the chief points in the system of street strategy recommended by THE NOBLE ART OF FRATERNISING : BY LEDRU-ROLLIN. Norutne easier. You must help yourself first, and if there is any- thing left, help your brothers. The best bonds of brotherhood are Treasury Bonds, ‘so collect as many as you can. Selfspreservation is the first law of Nature, which means that you must take the best care of yourself. If Saipan has £30,000, you, as his brother, are clearly entitled to half:of it. Communism means share and share alike : so, if RorusoHtp ‘has a thousand railway shares, you are fairly entitled to five hundred of them. For perfect happiness society should have but one opinion, and oof | course that opinion should be your own. to force his opinion upon you? Freedom of speech, when translated, means persons being at liberty to think as you think. If every one was to have a separate view and interest, and to think for himself, what- ever would become of the noble principle of Equality? You are bound to relieve all workmen, and if they are English or foreigners, their claims.are all the stronger, so do your best to relieve them of their tools and wages; and if the wretches murmur, tell them to leave the What right has anybody else country instantly, for they are not worthy to participate in the blessings | If they are not convinced, mind force is better ‘than | of Fraternity. persuasion; one bayonet is sharper than a thousand arguments. There must bea master-mind in all things. Prove this, especially at | elections, where the candidates should be your choice and not the electors’. Communism is all very well, but, like writing, it is liable to | fewer errors, when guided by dictation. Think of your country, of | course—don’t forget the sacred claims of your brothers; but there is | no true Fraternity unless you think of yourself first. A rainy day may come, and you are a fool if you do not provide for it; for there was never a brother yet, that would lend another an umbrella. ‘of Clevely, near N Lepru Roun. | |weserved for May. We have no doubt, | however, that she will contrive to defer | much of her business until August, when | Lorp Russeu will observe, that it being | too late in the Session to do anything— (hot weather and all that)—why, the | Hiouse will adjourn to the Moors! Having killed nothing but time in the ( ons, honourable Members are then fully justified m looking for game else- where. balls of forced-meat, blades of the rong» of shoulders of mutton, 0) would very soon be satisfied, or in other words, have had quite enough of it. Barrels of beer would| be met in this way, the hear teeta We Beg to Apologise. Monsreur Micyert, amongst many other new truths thrown down upon land, says—‘‘ No Englishman ever an idea.” Now-we take the liberty to state that we had .once an idea, which | was that Monsreurn MicHELET was a | verylever,sensible man. Now that idea, | dt as clear, had no right tocome into the | head of an Englishman, and we willingly |wetract it. We confess our error. We cannot account for it, and promise Monsieur MicHeuet, as ‘we love ideas d. These are | of justice, that we will never entertain an PURO. | idea like it again. Beavy Blow at the Church. On Thorsday, fhe 27th imst,,” says the Morning Post, “the advowson , was put up to public competition, at the Auction Mart.” Well may the French believe that we sell our wives at Smithfield, when we vend the right of appointment to the cure of souls. “Tt was knocked down,” ‘adds our contemporary, “for £5950, which was below the reserved price.” It is a pity that this variety of the game of “ knock-em-downs ” should be legal. struck at the Church, none are likely to be more injurious than those of the auctioneer’s hammer. The Cochrane Doll. Mr. Cuartes Cocurane has so nobly distinguished himself in his ' Of all the blows that are | attempt to make personal notoriety out of the poverty of other people, | that a very high and significant compliment has been paid to these efforts by sundry humble dealers. The Black Doll has been taken down from the shops, and.an effigy of Cocurane hung in its place, wi! h this notice (containing the whole gist of the CocHRaNe philosophy)—“ Here | the greatest price is given for old rags.” Gutta Percha Again! Ix spite of our remonstrances last week, we have received another | joke onthe above subject. A correspondent recommends all special constables and soldiers to wear boots and shoes made of Gutta Percha, for, in the event.of a riot in the dog-days, it will enable them better than anything else to stick to their flags. We declare, contributions like these are eno would be obliged to share their jokes equally, instead of their inflicted in their weighty entirety upon us. W: above isn’t too bad? ing to make us turn Communists, for ‘then all dullards | We ask the reader if the

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 187 THE MODEL WIFE. SHE never comes down to breakfast in curl-papers: She does not grumble if: her: husband brings a:friend home to dinner, even if “ there 1s. nothing: in: the: house.” does not remonstrate if her husband puts his feet on:the steel fender, or cry if he does not wipe his boots on the door-mat, She subscribes to no circulating library, and if she reads a:novel, she falls asleep over it. She is proficient in pies, and has | WO) ps) a deepiknowledge of: puddings. s She never talks politics; or “wish that she were dead,” or “a man;” or slam. the doors, or shut herself up in-her bedroom on tie plea of a “ to be kept in the house. She goes to church, but not to criticise the bonnets. She is not above descending into the kitchen to get “ some- thing warm.” for supper. She allows a fire in the bedroom on a wintry night. She has.a quick eye for dust, bet does not martyr her husband with continual complaints about the servants, nor worry herself to death for a man. in livery, or a page in buttons. She can walk, and without thin shoes, or a Jeames to follow her: She prefers table- beer to wine, and. does not faint at the idea of grog, or in fact, faint at all. She never sees that it is necessary to go out of town “for the dear children’s health.” It is true she follows the fashions; but then it is at several years’ distance. She has the smallest possible affection for jewellery, and makes the sweet children’s frocks out of her old esses. She is never “delicate,” and would scorn to send for the doctor because she is “a little low.” She never tells her husband when any of her friends have got a new bonnet, or exclaims with en- thusiasm that she saw “such a lovely cachemere in the City yesterday,” and then rhapsodise on the smallness of the price. She never opens her husband’s letters, and preserves her wedding-gown with a girlish reve- rence. She is not miserable if she stays in town on the Ascot Day, nor do penance in the back parlour if she does not go out of town when the season is over. She mends stockings, and makes unexceptionable ae and pickles. She does not refuse to go out with her husband ecause she hasn’t a good gown. She asks for money sparingly, and would sooner “ eat her head off” than make anything out of the housekeeping. She always dresses for dinner. She never hides the latch-key. She rarely flirts, and it makes her too giddy to waltz, even with an officer. The Model Wife always sits up for her husband, to the most unmatri- monial hours; and still she does not look black, or say “ He’s killing her,” though he should bring daylight in with him, or even come home with the “milk.” She =} - over tlie little bit of fire, watching the mantelpiece clock, alarmed by every sound, jumpi up at every cab, shivering and sleepy, her only companions during the long night the mice in the cupboard, or a stray blackbeetle, and her only occupation the restless fear lest her husband should not come home safe. She cries sometimes, but never before him ; and, above all—hear it,,all ye Wives of England—she does not Caupie Lecture him when she gets him inside the curtains and knows there is no escape for him! TO THE UNEMPLOYED. E have read, with the combined attention of the philoso- pher and the patriot, a little book that, gay as a summer butterfly, has just fluttered from the press. The book is called Sketches of Her Majesty's House- hold ; and, among other intoxicating intelligence, the _work professes to be 4 Guide to Situations in the Queen's Domestic Establishment! A very solemn little tome, it must be confessed, is this. Common paper, and mere printer’s blackness, are indeed too vulgar for its sublime purpose. Its leaves ought to be of the vellum of the sheep that grew the golden fleece ; and conserve of the hearts of Maids-of-Honour should be its ruddy ink. However, it is not so; the book is, notwithstanding, a nice little book that, helped by the imagination of true loyalty, will gleam a lidro d’oro. ith so many worthy men and women out of employment, Punch is desirous to show to those who want places, how many excellent situa- tions are to be had in the Royal Household; situations with this double recommendation, namely, a high salary and nothing todo. We are not 4 | now £2000. ] nervous headache.” She is:very | slow in tears, and a stout heretic as. to -—re She allows a.dog | eligible investment of temporary attention. | In the first place, there is the post of Lord Chamberlain. His duty \is, we believe, to carry a stick in his fingers; to wear a latch-key of the door of the hack-stairs at his button-hole ; and always, on state occasions, | to walk b; s. The salary for doing this is—£2000 per annum. | In 1805, the-place—held by the Eart or DartmoutH—was only £1200 | a year; but,,the Aristocracy having struck for an advance, the wages are | understanding, no man’s: modesty need stand in the way of his preferment. 4. | The Vice-Chamberlain is engaged as a sort of double; taking the | Chamberlain’s: post when absent on his own business. This post (salary £924 per-annum) is well adapted for any good-looking young gentleman of leisurely: habits. No talent of any sort required. He must, however, know his: right hand from his left, and keep his thumb from his mouth. The: Lords-in- Waiting have £702 each per annum, with the run of the Royal’ box at the opera and playhouse. much puzzled to get through their work. £300;. and! would be a very nice addition to the income of any young man of good deportment. Gentlemen-Ushers, Grooms, Serjeants, Table-deckers, Kings-at-Arms, Heralds, are all well worthy of the unemployed; whose leisure would in no way be interfered with by an appointment to either post. Toaretired sportsman the Master of the Buckhounds would be a very eligible situation; inasmuch as he is not required to hunt above four or five weeks in the season; for which he is paid £1700 per annum; besides being free of all turnpikes. The Master has a very handsome turn-out; the expense of the establishment averaging between £6000 and £7000 a year, and triumphantly showing how much of the people’s money goes to the dogs. The Hereditary Grand Falconer. This is a very eligible situation for any person of genteel exterior. The salary is £1200 a year. Nota single hawk is kept; but the Falconer is expected, on certain state-days, to give toast to the parrots ! The Keeper of the Queen’s Privy Purse is a very nice post, indeed, for any respectable young man; good security is of course required. The salary is £2000 per annum. ‘This is as it ought to be. Hence, the Keeper of the Purse-is removed from all temptation, by having: £2000 a-year for only taking: care of it. The Governor and Constable of Windsor " appointment for a steady man; only if is: at present in the possession of Prince. Appert. Vulgar people might imagine that his Royal special constable to take care of his own house gratis; his to his £30,000) receives £1120 per annum with the constable’s staff of Windsor Castle! any man with no objection to the country. Prince ALBeExt, however, being particularly fond of the Home Park, takes £500 a-year for warning people “ off the grass.” ’ We shall not number the many situations conducing to the real strength and glory of the Crown, tobe found in this inestimable volume. Punch recommends it to the earnest study of the true and loyal. e writer attempts to show (very neo as Punch thinks) that easily enough-a.sum of £29,104 might be saved to the country without “interfering, in the most trifling manner, with either the domestic comforts and conveniences, or the necessary state ceremonies, of the sovereign of this country.” Punch thinks the suggestion very disloyal. The true strength of the British Constitution is in the money it costs us. Make Government cheap, and you make it contemptible. t Castle would be a capital | aware of any kind of post that can offer to man or woman a more | The duties of the post being made easy to the commonest | hey do nothing; and are often | The Master of the Ceremonies, in addition to the Chamberlains, has Honesty, | like all other good things, is not to be bought except at a high price. Highness would have no. objection to. swear himself in as a continual | Highness, however, knows the worth of fidelity ; and hence (in addition | The Ranger of Windsor Home Park would be a pleasant post for |

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18S PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. RAILWAY REPUBLICANISM. Tur monarchy of Kinc Hupson is at an end; the iron crown is torn from his brow; and his supremacy over the world of lo-comotion has been extinguished by a very low-commotion indeed. He made an attempt to abdicate in favour of his son, the Prince or Rams, and called out the whole of the Light Stokers; but they, having fraternised with the Guards, a rush was made into the refreshment-room, where a Provisional Govern- ment was declared. The immediate cause of the out- break was the refusal of Kine Hupson to recognise any- body or anything, and his determination to throw himself upon the line. Every attempt to move him noes proved fruitless, a general agitation ensued, whic extended even to the sleepers, some of whom were torn out of their beds by the insurgents, who sent a great moral engine as a vehicle of progress, to inform persons in every station that the Hupson monarchy was at an end. The Secretary, who had hitherto been on the Civil List, sent in his immediate adhesion to the new order of things, and the whole of the clerks, being very anxious to retain office, fraternised with the railway people against their late king. othing has yet been decided as to the new style of Government, but a Directory has been spoken of as the most obvious form to adopt. The engine-drivers have resolved on driving matters to the utmost extremity, and crowds of railway porters are rushing about fran- tically in all directions, singing Zhe Steam Arm, which corresponds among them with the famous Chant du Départ of France. The electric telegraph is in the hands of the revolutionists, and the Chemin de Fer has become a perfect Chemin d’ Enfer, for everything is going in that direction as fast as it can. THE DAY-SLEEPER. “SOMETHING MUST BE DONE.” Such is the “great fact” which every newspaper has lately discovered ; such is the strong conviction of every sensible man who is fond of order, and averse to riots and revolutions; and | such doubtlessly was the soliloquy of every special con- | stable on the 10th of April, after a ten hours’ duty. But | Lorp Jonn Russe hears the national cry, and twirls | his a . — yoy > eo ey aig a. AN thing ” ought to be done, but has not made up his min LIBERTY. \ b- ies that “something” shall be. His eyes are rivetted | upon the ceiling, and he is ready to rush to the House of Commons as soon as the inspiration comes down upon him. Inthe meantime, the minutes of “ Finality” are numbered; if not, the days of Whig Government Ovr Dovstz Brovenam.—In consideration of the amusement which has been | 8000 will be, though we know that Finality is the very created by Lorp Brovewam in seeking to combine in his own person a French | /ast thing which a Whig Government is ikely to sur- citizenship and an English peerage, Punch is graciously pleased to allow his Lordship | render. “‘ Finality,” in the Russeut vocabulary, means to adopt the style and title of Lonp Haur-anp-Hazr. | “ Government without end. A Suggestion for the new Statue of Liberty, to be erected at Paris. Neat and Appropriate. come out as the celebrated Cockney Avalanche. In this capacity he Tue “Special Polka” is announced, addressed to the loyal Special undertakes to tear up forests and remove cities ; so that he is going into Constables of the nation. Every Special is requested to present his wife, daughter, or sister with a copy, if only to commemorate the omy 10th. We trust, that though the dandies of the 10th “don’t ance,” the Specials of the 10th do, and that the leader’s ddton will keep the dancers “moving on” to the strains of his composition, which may well be called a Polka, for it is adapted to stir the fires of patriotism in the coldest heart. THE COCHRANE DEMONSTRATION. Sure Cocnranr ’s the monarch of humbugs; He proved it long ago, With his row so rare In Trafalgar Square, Where he didn’t appear, Oh no! Txvs would Lorn Byron have sung, had he lived in the days of Cocurang, and hanged up this precious charlatan by the strings of his precious lyre. There is no end to the assumption of new characters by | the removal line both in town and country. He in future wishes to be this hero of the soup-kitchen—this legitimate successor of MarsHat | known as “ CocuRANE the Cataract ;” and surely the elements are dis- TurzzN—and his latest disguise is the most wretched of all, for he has | posed to give him every possible assistance in his new assumption, for _ *eggn0nIy * Pf * “NIH DAIS OL SONIHL FHL FUV ASAHL ANV {dad SVM AH ANIL HOI S. LT } WOOTDN.O S. LVHA MON DOL LIT ITT ‘HO... ‘youn. T—.. 1 YOOTND.O S&S. LVHAM‘IHAA 1 AUUTSY Nave TAT foTTOW

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDONe: CHARIVART. they furnished him on Easter Monday with water enough to start half- a-dozen waterfalls at once, and place lim as a permanent cztaract in the public eye immediately afterwards. He compares himself to a flake of snow, which, barring the whiteness, is an apt comparison, for he dis- solves with wondrous rapidity; and, as snow brings to our mind the ancient image of the old woman picking the feathers out of her goose, the number of white feathers CocoRang has displayed are suggested to us very vividly by his own simile. ORNITHOLOGICAL REVERSE OF FORTUNE. WE imagine ‘ the Austrian Eavle, which but two months ago held its two heads so high in Italy, must at present be ra- ther _crest-fallen. Pulled off its offi- cial perch in Mi- lan, left without a single eyrie through Lombar- dy, it must be at present in rather reduced circum- stances. It has not even the con- solation of resid- | vai ing in its old age | fj over a tobacco | warehouse, or the | poor resource of | selling a pack of playing cards, two | ranches of trade | from which it for- | merly derived its | principal income. | All monopoly has | been _ snatched —— oe from its rapacious | claws, and ‘we doubt even if it has the common comfort of a pinch of | snuff, which was another of its revenmes, when it was in high feather. This is proper retribution for having made the Italian people pay | through the nose for their common nevessaries. It is a question with | many, whether ‘this imperial bird of prey is now alive. Some say’ it was | ashamed to wing its‘way back to Austria, and has flown to England, | where it is hiding its double head in some miserable'garret near Hanover | Square. Its principal amusement is to screech revengefully at the | Brunswick Hotel, since the Pryce Metrernicn has arrived in this | country. It had better offer its services to the Coliseum, where it might | fill the place on Mont Blanc, which has been vacant since the death of | the late lamented eagle. A NARROW ESCAPE. We beg to congratulate Westminster Bridge on the very narrow escape it has lately had; for if the Chartist Petition had really passed | over it, it never could have survived the severe shaking. The tremen- | dous weight of that document, even with one-fifth of its supposed | signatures, must have broken it down. The tottering old bridge must | have sunk for ever into its “native element ”—we mean, of course, the water, for it has been more in water than out of it all its life. Might we ask as a favour of Mr. Cocurang, and others who devote their waste | hours to arranging processions and collecting pickpockets, to choose | Westminster Bridge as the next place for their meeting? By these | means two nuisances might be put down at the same time, and Mr. Cocnranr’s ardour might be so far damped as to prevent him plunging for some time into the turbid stream of popularity. Thus Westminster Bridge may supply the place of the old ducking-stool that used to be | tried formerly, m its very neighbourhood, on those who were convicted of libellous or teo much talking. Thames water would prove an admirable cure for all rabid spouters. It would be the first time, also, | for many years, that Westminster Bridge had been connected with anything like Public Safety. = | Advertisement Extraordinary. Weakness of Mind. | W ANTED, to take the charge of a few Irish Lunatics, a person who has no objection to travelling ; for the lunaties will no doubt have to go abroad very soon, and the allowance for superintending them will therefore be liberal. COCKROACH’S PROGRESS. @ Ballay.” Or a farce ridiculous, list ye while I tell, Which on Easter Monday last pleasantly befel ; Sing we how to head arow, with intention vain, , CockroacH unto Downing Street rode, and back again. Insects wondrous in their kind are your busy hees, Vermin very marvellous your industrious fleas ; But, the things diminutive on the earth that crawl, Cocxroacues political strangest are of all. Cocxroacn ’gainst the Income Tax, first, to gain his ends, Raised a tumult, then for fear of law forsook his friends ; Next against the Poor Law, his credit to retrieve, He got a demonstration up, all so make-believe. London’s paupers Cockroacn bade unto Leicester Square, Thence with him to Downing Street im posse grand to fare, With petition setting forth all the workhouse wrong. | “* Ho!” eried Cockroacs to himself, “‘won’t I come it strong!” There, from morning until noon, CocKroacs twirled his thumbs, Fruitlessly expecting arrivals from the slums. Hard it rained; the clouds on his scheme cald water threw, Plenty of police wéte there, ragamuffins few. Cooxroacn in an open chaise then at length did mount, Some three hundred vagabonds, near as one might count, Cheering him : hard words to use much our beart it grieves But most. of them in sooth were boys, principally thieves. Onward Cocxroacs took his way, follow’d by a van, Showing forth, in loathsome daub, the wrongs of the Poor Man. Verily thy taste was good, feeling was thy heart, Cocxroacu, thus to blazon thine advertising cart. Down the Street of Panton rolled, with motion slow, Chaise and van; fast after, the mob were fain to go; But a body of police, arm’d with trusty staves, Forming straight across the way, stopp’d the ragged knaves. To Cockspur Street thro’ Haymarket Cockroacn crawl’d alang, Hiss’d, and groan’d, and hooted by “Specials” in the throng, Housekeepers from first-floor fronts on his head let fall Gibes and execrations; that, luckily, was all. No encouragement had he, not a single cheer, Save from some few-cab-drivers much the worse for beer: Thirstily drank Cockroacn the plaudits of the sots ; Not with greater zest did they drain their pewter pots. At the Street of Cockspur again the mob essay’d Tn his wake to follow: again their course was stay’d, Like a kennel in its current, by the men of A, ;, First division of police, under Mr. May. Round the Union Club he doubled, 7 Trafalgar Square. Cockroach, certes thou hadst face if thou couldst show it there. Halting, “ Fellow Countrymen!” his speech ‘he then began ; They, being chiefly constables, wouldn’t hear the man. On came the merry men of A, the ragamouffins flew. ‘* Now then, move on, Sir, if you please,” cried the men in blue. “This won’t do, we.can’t allow no more of this here gab.” *Gainst the steeds of Cockroacu here ran a hackney-cab. Thus was luckless Cockroacu brought unto a:stand; Round his carriage-closed the constabulary band. Grievously they chaffed him, the “Specials” and the A: “What right had you to come round here?” quoth Inspector May. When from its entanglement his vehicle was freed, Again was hapless Cockroacy permitted to proceed. His van had gone without him, to the Green Yard it was said. Cockroacu, thy advertisement ill indeed hath sped! Once more when our CocKroacu passed Messrs. Drummond’s Bank, All athwart the thoroughfare the blue-coats formed in rank : Thus he went to Downing Street, unsuccessful quack ! With no rabble, after all, following at his back. When he reached the Home Office, no Srr Grorce Grey was there; He left his sham petition to an under-porter’s care. **T think I’d better now go home,” _ he to his friends did say. “Upon our word we think you had,” wisely answer’d they. Cocxroacu left without a tail, turned his steeds about, ”Mid some fifty urchins, who raised a scornful shout. Thus his demonstration contemptibly did end ;° Thus derision evermore humbug doth attend.

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192 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. PUNNING AND PUNCHSLAUGHTER, Our death will certainly lie at the door of the Paris correspondent of ' the Morning Post. “ At present,” observes that inhuman punster, | speaking of M. Lepru-RoLitin— ' “ He is merely letting I dare not wait upon I would; but with Aéé¢ (perhaps even ninety) = his side, he is ready to cry havoc and let slip the dogs of war on all who differ from oe Punch will never survive this joke. He is where its perpetrator ought to be—at his wits’ end. is up with him. In eztremis, with his last breath, he offers a reward of One Million Pounds to anybody who will point out to him the meaning of the above antithesis between , Até and ninety. COLVILLE’S SCHOOL FOR POACHING. * Mist. punch, “they Tells me as how that mist. Colville—i thinks that’s the neam of un—a brawt a Bil into the Housacommuns for mendun the laws ’bout geam. Now mist. — praps you’ll say bob that aint no bisnus o yourn—beg your pardn sur for conterdictun of ye Tis. And i’ll Tellee Wy. suri Be wuno that respeckble Class o her madjsy’s Subjicts—long life to her—Call’d Pochers. And I baint shamed on’t. keep your hands bob i says from pickun and steelun but if so be as you cums Across a Hair or a Patridge wild bout the fields—nab un. Tis Noman’s propperty says Law o natur, tis a baste o the field and a fowl o the air and blongs to whoever first catches un. No says Lawo the land a blongs to Squire. bob thee help thyself says Law o natur. Dost I ’ll send thee to Jhale says lawo the Land. Thee dost me wrong then i says to Law o fhe land and thee oughtst to be alterd. so mist. punch as an englishman and a Pocher you’ll allow bob’s consarned in the mendment of the geam Laws. Now wot’s this here bilo mist. Colvilles. wya gives farmers lafe to kill hares and rabbuts on the lands they holds only they baint to shoot em. Trap em says the Bil and wire em as much as ever you mind only you mustn’t nock em over wiagun. Thankee mist. Colville says I. Here’s success to pochin—an ge is the | bill to send it. You’ll meak evry farm bout country a scool for pochers. Thats eddication for the rahural distericts. Thats tachun the yung Ideear how to Poche if it isn’t tachun of un to Shoot. you’ll hav all the boys set catchun Hairs and Rabbuts as they be now to keep corn. Just wat I shood like if I was a young un. tis an imploymunt as is see if he wunt beat his weight in polecats. taint only for my Self mist. punch I spakes. ive got ayung Granson. Nan.eis Blue-cur. i wants to Trane un Up in the waya should go. i wishes to make him a man and a Pocher. Only give bob the oppertoonity bob ull find the scoolin. | this Here sitchewashur ood be just the Thing. tis the fust mist. Punch as iever heerd of as ood suit me. bob would make his Self useful therein and Do his dooty accordun to his Stashun in Life. Nayborwood to a wel Stocked Preserv Purferrd. no objeckshun to nitework tother side o the Palins. Noterbeny. A Good Dogg found up to t in all the Branches and Badjurs at a Days Notis. By *honnured mist. punch “Your most obeegent servant «. ” BOB MOODY. “PS. if ever you wants a bird or a levert drops aline. Ora Dish o Trowt. bob is at your Servis Day and Nite. Fine streem Through | bishops Garden. And if ever yu cums this way hopes youll low bob to Drink yure Helth.” “ Parsonstown. Hance. May 3. 1848.” *,* We shall be happy to place our correspondent in communication with any of our agricultural readers whose lands may be infested with the vermin called game. We cannot quite agree with him in his _—— of poaching to the more normal branches of industry ; but in | is views with respect to the tendency of Mr. Cotvinux’s bill, we entirely coincide with Mr. Moony. COCHRANE’S MONSTER MEETING, »-) (M*COCHRANE i) | | ~MPLORES i THE VAST CROWD TO DISPERSE a MY IGOCHRA Raval EPA Mr. Cocurane and his two friends may certainly say “ We met,” “| but they cannot continue by observing “’twas in a crowd,” though | each of the precious trio may exclaim, in reference to COMMISSIONER Mayne, “ His eye was upon me.” The great demonstration consisted almost literally of that collection which has already given celebrity to Trafalgar Square in bygone days, namely, “a boy ma a man,” the man being very old and the boy very a | juvenile. When Cocurane entreated this moblet to “disperse,” the Ni couple of dumb-waiters. “Tax YER PARDON MaSTER—BUT I WANT TO BRING MY LITTLE Boy UP TO THE POACHING BUS’NESS—AND SHOULD LIKE TO APPRENTICE HIM TO YOU, IF SO BE yOU'LL HAVE UN. easy to the Boddy and Plezzunt to the Mind. Tis more greeable than worken in the feelds or follerin of the Plow. now mist. punch if you plase sur i hopes you’ll stand my frend. If this here Bil passes and you nose ar a farmer as wants his Hairs thinnd off recummend meto un. Tell un theres bob. bob ull poche wi ar a man in england. He’ll show ee how to wire Hairs and rabbuts. put bob into a cover or a warren and (a effect was rich in the extreme. It was like requesting a pat of butter to spread itself over an acre of bread, or reading the Riot Act over a | An unhappy terrier, who would keep barking at a policeman’s heels with a sort of dogged obstinacy, was the only creature on the ground that seemed determined to stop there; and poor CocHRANE went away whistling “ Nobody coming to shout 'at me,” with a look so lugubrious, that it brought water into the eylet- holes of the fountains as he passed through Trafalgar Square. So Saly they met, and so foolishly parted, Which failure was greater e’en I could not tell— The wretched set-out when the caravan started, Or the exit from Downing Street after the sell, A Promising Pupil. WE see a gentleman has been taken up for picking thirty pockets— of hops. This must be the greatest pickpocket of this pocket-picking age. If he had studied at one of Mr. CocHrane’s se he could et mon fallen more naturally, or have gone more profoundly, into the usiness. on wNRaAS ~~ 12? BMS StINO 1.0 E'S how we BEI Re

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~ LS ee a = PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 193 GREAT ‘MEETING OF PETTICOAT PATRIOTS. BRITISH MANUFACTURES! EsTERDAY, a very important Meeting was attended by all the beauty and fashion The great object of this most interesting gathering of the season was to receive pledges—the deepest and tenderest—from = the ladies assembled, with respect to the necessary encouragement of all articles of British manufacture. (We sent our own reporter to attend the meeting; but, as it seems, he had, upon private business of his own, to call on his way at the offices of Messrs. SHapracu, Mesnacn, and ABEDNEGO, he was unaccountably detained by those gentlemen; and, strange to say, has not been altogether himself since. We are therefore indebted to the fra- ternal feelings of the Morning Post for the flimsy copy containing a true report of the proceedings.) Lapy DE TissvE was called to the Chair, which she filled. Her Ladyship—odd as it may appear—in very few words explained the object of the meeting. They had met together to give a blow to the foreigner. The French Revolution had wiped Paris from the world; that mag- nificent city had been discharged from the map of Europe like a claret- | stain from damask. (Hear.) Lorp Broveuam had assured her (Great laughter)—her T.adyship begged to say she was not aware that there was anything in the name of that great man to provoke mirth—his Lordship | had informed her that what was once Paris was now un petit fumier. (Cries of “ Dear me!”’) The Tuileries, where they had all Mcash-~thnentieah —where Lorp Broveuam had always put up his carpet-bag—was | crushed, smashed, broken to bits like a china tea-pot! (Symptoms of hysteria.) The trade of France was gone! No lace—no silks—no bijou- terie—no, not even a bit of virtu to be had for love or money! (Cries of “Well, I never!”) Such being the case, it behoved them as patriotesses to take care of themselves. Lyons being abolished, the must, as true Englishwomen feeling for their country, go to Spitalfields! They could moreover still effect a tie of sisterhood in the ribands of Coventry! (Faint cheers.) Valenciennes, worked into such historical associations in its beautiful laces, was ruined—gone like a dropt stitch —in which case they must go to—, A Votce. Brussels? The CuarrwomaNy. Certainly; Belgium being still a monarchy, they might still go to Brussels. Her Ladyship, concluding a very eloquent and rapid speech, called upon the meeting to rally round the Altar and the Throne, the Duke oF WEx11nGTON and the British Manufactures. The Marcnioyess: or Packemorr said she was prepared to make great sacrifices for monarchical principles all over the world. She had merried six daughters at six different courts; and—why should she blush to own it?—she was the grandm—that is, her daughters were the mothers of six young princes. (Very faint cheers.) She had still two daughters to marry (Signs of impatience), and neither she nor they were to be put down by clamour. She had already discharged their maid, a Frenchwoman ; ‘and had taken a gir!—a thing with red elbows, at reduced wages—from Devonshire ; she had, moreover, changed her laundress, the woman being obstinately wedded to an Italian iron. (Cries of “ Bless me!”) After this, need she say she was prepared for great sacrifices ? The Countess or STRAWBERRICREME had only one—one little word to say. (Jrontcal cries of “Oh!” and “ The last word, no doubt.”) One little word ; upon her word and honour, only one. She was married when quite —quite a child herself, and therefore that must account for the strange fact of her already having just—she might say just—a marriageable daughter. ADEL)ZzA—it was not perhaps too nek for a mother to say —was favourably known to many ladies present. She might add, very, very favourably known. The child was 1o be married to Lorp Worm- woop DE ScruzBs to-morrow: and she would go to the altar, as wholly and solely a bride of English manufacture. (Cheers). That, her ladyship thought,'was something like a pattern for the Hymeneal season about to commence in high life with its usual severity. (Zhree cheers from the Mothers.) If not intrusive, she would indulge the feelings of a parent by reading the wedding-dress—(she had brought a copy of it with her to give to theman on the press, if he had a salver about him to receive it)—the wedding-dress of darling ApEtiza. It was this:—“ The very young and lovely bride was magnificently attired in a splendid shot gingham from the mills of Messrs. CoppENn and Bricst, trimmed with Honiton lace of the British Lion pattern. Over this she wore a Paisley shaw], embodying an exquisite design (the work of a North British artist, and very touching for the occasion, namely, Curip in a kilt, with a nosegay of thistles.) The fair and held at Wutuis’s Rooms—a meeting | (they invariably go together) of London. | timid one also wore a bonnet of the most delicate Dunstable, enriched with a wreath of British buttercups and daisies; to these may be | added a beautiful riband from the House of Peeping Tom of Coventry, | the bride’s-tear water pattern. Neither were the manufactures of the Principality forgotten in the wardrobe of the bride, who seemed to | combine all the industrial resources of the United Kingdom. Whilst ‘upon the subject—and we dwell upon it at this length, the saison de noces just beginning—it | not be too muchito:remark, that the bride’s dress was wholly put together with Whitechapel :meedles, and even her | wedding-ring had the good old English hall-mark. We feel it more- over only due to the patriotism of the bride’s distinguished parents to observe, that the marriage settlement of Lapy Wormwoop DE Scruss was engrossed upon British parchment, and enriched with an English stamp.” (Here her Ladyship, with the conscious air of a woman who deserved well of her country, dropt the MS. upon the salver handed by Mr. JENKIns to receive it.) i ; Lavy Poppet addressed the meeting with considerable diffidence. She so much admired the patriotic a of her friend the CountEss or STRAWBERRICREME—if she might be permitted to call her her friend —that she should wish to see them carried:entirély through. She rose with respect to infants—cherubs in the cradle. A poet had said, “ And as the bow is bent, the boy’s inclined.” By which she inferred ‘that bows of foreign lace upon a baby’s cap could not but have an unpatriotic influence on the brain of the little precious. (It might, her Ladyship added, be gathered that she spoke as a mother.) She was prepared to go to the root of the matter, and to abolish babies’ caps at once. Let them trust to the benign influence of their dear native hair. When, moreover, it was remembered that so many of their little darlings came | into the world quite ready for the House of Lords (Cries of “ Onder /”) —her Ladyship believed that she was — to an historical fact ; their dear male eldest-born coming into the world with all the statutes in their sweet little heads—it behoved them as mothers to guard them against foreign influence. Therefore, she would abolish lace on babies’ caps once and for ever. (Faint cheers.) Again; she would not put a coral in the hand of a child of hers; he should not cut his teeth upon an exotic, a foreign substance; but—and_ she was prepared to be called a | leveller; notwithstanding, if she knew herself, she was quite the contrary |—but upon a piece of home-grown, home-made English crust! She believed that coral, and ivory, and India-rubber rings—all, it must be remembered, the produce of the foreigner—had done more to spoil the | wisdom-teeth of the House of Lords (even before they had them) than | the chewing of any other thing soever. (Cries of “ Question !”’) | The Dowacer Lapy Marrozoye said they had pretty well discussed | | two questions— What babies were to be reared in, and what girls were 'to be married in. She now, as an old woman—and ‘she confessed to | having danced with the poet Rocers, in pink and silver—she wished | * or in what sort of manufacture ladies would like to be juried : | (Here there was a sudden shriek. Then confused cries of “ Shame / | Shame!” “Show that person to the door!” and the meeting finally separated | in several carriages, without coming to any resolution whatever. | PARLIAMENTARY DEBTORS. | WE perceive that Mr. Morrart and Mr. Brotuerton have brought a bill into Parliament to provide for the exclusion from the House of | Commons of Members who shall be unable or unwilling to pay their just debts. It is said that this bill will encounter.a very determined a, This at first sight may appear strange. It is certainly odd | that the House which refuses the concession of that ~ of the Charter which demands a no-property qualification, should persist in retaining Members whose property, since they owe more than they can pay, is less than nothing. But if among the just and lawful debts of Members may be included those which they owe to their country, ex- perience has shown how likely it is that the utmost possible resistance will be offered to any measure calculated to compel them to discharge their obligations. Cause and Effect. A rintcaL gentleman—the rose-coloured correspondent of the Post —writes with the — of a poll-parrot on the doings in France. He one of the eatables at the late /ée, and says, among other things, there were—“ most suspicious sausages, which made one shudder.” The shudder, no doubt, arising from the old instinct, “Puppy doesn’t eat puppy.” W ANTED.—By a Gentleman going into the Patriotic Line, a few Grievances of strong manufacture, warranted to wear well. Also, seme materials for making a Good Mob, that will not shrink in the washing, if a shower of rain should come on. Best price given for Old Grievances, if they are not too much worn, and will admit of turning over to the other side. Income-Tax objected to. Good Substantial Wrongs, to | which there are no appropriate Rights, will be taken with alacrity by the Advertiser, whose object is chiefly occupation ; but he is indifferent as to its being profitable to any- | body but himself. No Irish need apply.

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194 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

A GREAT DAY FOR SCOTLAND. We all remember the occasion when Scotland—repentant | Scotland—ate a dinner in Ayr (Burns had often dined there | before) in honour of the memory of her poet; and in touchin compunction of the neglect with which, while living, she treate }him. The Eart or Eetintoun—whose portrait is henceforth | destined to hang in every tap-room of England, the Earl having | nobly indicated the right of every publican to have a Black-leg Club for Derby Sweeps—the Earl was very eloquent, very pa- | thetic, too, upon the fate of Burns. And sheriffs and bailies | were at the banquet, who spoke and cheered in honour of the | poet; though, had they and he lived together, they would, | we fear, have thought the Tolbooth too good for the jacobin |rhymster. However, the man was dead, and all that could be |uttered was the regret of repentance. It was plain Scotland

| would never do so again. Nevertheless, at that very festival Ne | was poor THoM ; very far from a Burys, certainly: still he had Hil; si i / iP Ye ae yp ys |made a rightful claim to the sympathy of his country, and it | A\) hap Lt wl an a 3 y was—disregarded. ; : i} A\ is 2, er, ee yo. Gi : | And now the man is dead. After a sojourn in England he \) NO ¥ | returned, a few weeks since, to the Hawkhill of Dundee, where, Mt \\ ud int AY RO A |in his own simple words, he “wished to return, like a bird UMN in: thy | : A that flutters around her forsaken nest, to spend his latter on ‘ i ; } | in comparative peace and quiet.” This was denied him. The N\t i ae) my ey) mS Had 46 fewdays he spent were spent with all shapes of want about 1 i 3 if | him. Now, he is dead; and has left a widow and three infant | children (one only a few months old) utterly helpless. | Mer. Georce Gririttan, of Dundee, and Messrs. CHat- | MERS, MIDDLETON, and Suaw, booksellers, and Mr. MIt1s, |perfumer, ‘‘ have kindly undertaken to receive donations.” | Certain we are that Scotland is in ignorance! of this fact. een © Scotland, of course, knows of the decease of THom, and has an - fs = wit, | uneasy desire to learn if she can assist the helpless creatures = Mr: = WY her poet has left behind him : well, we have acquitted ourselves eth, /_ NU: — ,of a pleasing duty; and, we are sure of it, we have pleased =~ oT. =——- | Scotland ; for now, with her hand so long fumbling in her pocket, s # ea — | She knows at once where and to whom to send her pieces of ae | gold and silver. A sovereign is not too much ; nor, on the other | hand—so urgent is the misery—can we say what is too little.

lst. “My pean Frank—Wuart Is THE MATTER, OLD Boy !” 2nd. “Ou! I am pistREssep To DeatH asout Money Matrers—I pon’r kyow| A Numerous Stup:—Lorp Georce Bentinck says “The wat I sHatt po? Wuy, nEere’s Jenny Linn cominc oct on Tuurspay, axp I| Whig Government ought to be called the ‘ Stable Mind,’ con- POSITIVELY HAVEN’T THE MONEY TO PAY FOR A Box.” sidering the number of Greys that are in it.”

_ ing. Perhaps Spain may put in a claim; but her monthly attempts at | equality are s/ow, and never come to anything. Now, reader, look at | | use of the “ Patent High-pressure Revolving Steam-engine” for their |

France beaten at last. |; A FEW PARDONABLE WORDS ABOUT OURSELVES. Panis plumes itself upon being at the head of Europe in revolutionis- | Ir is most flattering to our vanity (if we have any) to see effigies of our own jolly self gradually multi- plying over the metropolis. No coffee-shop, no milk-shop, no cigar- shop is now complete without our bust. Trade is glad of . our patronage, though we, wish it were accompanied with certain reforms which should drive away chicory, sand, chalk, cabbages, and all other adulterations which _ are a disgrace to our coffee, our > sugar, ——— er 3 io ARD | <fl cigars. But as we are “a goo as : - 1 time is coming,” we will wait till MESSRS. TOPSY TURVY & CO, that millennium. However, there are other purposes to which we ishould be glad to see our head devoted. The Loxp Mayor’s mace, for No. 2, RESTLESS ROW, ; |instance, would gain in meaning, and certainly would not lose in dignity, ~~ . — op pie their Sine, me Riff-Raff, en rae oer Rioters, = a — ee a paareeee S yp pee —_ an cals of all nations, that they have now completed their arrange- | laugh, perhaps; but don’t they laugh also a : srous, ments for getting up Revolutions on the shortest notice and most | staff, as it pokes its brazen head out of the Lorp Mayon’s carriage? this from the “ Naval Intelligence” of the newspapers :— “*PorTsmouTH, Monpay.—H. M. S. Triton steamed into harbour, disabled, making | but fourteen revolutions in the minute.” After this, we hope that our fidgetty continental neighbours will make | Revolutions. Thus Constitutions may be worked by levers, and Abdica- | tions promoted by a fly-wheel.

reasonable terms. Again, the Great Seal of England might borrow our features, and we Ordinary Procession, warranted 50,000men . . « «© « « £20 would warrant that Justice would not lose anything if we gave it our Ditto with Flags, Marseiliaise, and two elegant Barricades... . . 50 |countenance. We would frown at all abuses, and turn up our nose at Grand Révolution a la mode, on the most scientific principles; Fraternizing ithe iniquitous delavs of the Law, until we had fairly stamped them out with the Military, warranted to last two days; with an Abdication, = = | of the country. We put ourselves in the hands of the Lonp CHan- complete . ° . ° . . : ° ° ° Windows emashed at per square yard. | CELLOR, referring him to the good impression we have always made Provisional Government and Mourir pour la patrie ° ° - extra 5 | when we sided with a good cause, and set our face against a bad one. A Patriot alwayson the premises, for the invention of National Flags and Airs. | This offer is tendered with the same impartiality to all those who hold Messrs. T. T. & Co. have always on hand a large stock of Anarchists, pda - = =< Democrats, and highly-polished Communists; also Tocsins, Rappels, | rrintea vy William Bradbury. of No. 6, York Place, Stoke N d Frederick Mullett

sates ant j E . of No. 7, Church Row, Stoke N gton, both in the County of Middlesex, Priaters, at and Trees of Liberty by the day or hour. | their Office. im Lombard Street’ in the Precinct of Whitetriars, in the City of Lordon, and Pub. lished by them, at No. 8, Fleet Street, in the Parish ef St. Bride, in the City of Lendon.— N.B. Bmeutes punctually attended. | Sarunpax, Mar 6ch, 1848.

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sv To 2 ew oe St pee pe hee OS 8 a eS Ee ee lee | of a cat; _ the world trolling out Largo al Factotum, or thundering forth Non PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 195 THEY WON’T BE QUIET. upcine by the papers, our friends the musical critics evi- dently intend to be the death ofus. A year ago they nearly killed us with their learning, and their elaborate exposition of A, with its corresponding semitones, forming a major fifth, with a minor fourth, and being equivalent to an octave and a half of the diatonic scale, with eight sharps in the bar, and a flat on the fourth crot- chet. We did survive all this erudition, somehow or other, but now we are about to be morally assassinated in another way, and the first blow that has been struck at us consists in the announcement that ‘““TAMBURINI'S voice proved ‘itself, at a recent concert, ex- actly what it used to be in his +youngest and best days.” Now we don’t deny the justice of beomparing TAMBURINI'’S voice .to what it was in his “ best” jdays, but if it is like what it was in his “ youngest” days, he must have had, for a new-born baby, one of the most astounding baritones ever listened to. Our experience of infant vocalisation leads us to believe, that any one’s voice, in his youngest days, is a some- what disagreeable compound of the creaking of a door and the whining but, if the critic is to be believed, TamBuRINI came into / piu Andrai, with all the force he ever in his best days was known to throw into them. THE BATTLE OF LIMERICK. Yz Genii of the nation, Who look with veneration, And Ireland’s desolation onsaysingly deplore ; Ye sons of GENERAL JACKSON, Who thrample on the Saxon, Attend to the thransaction upon Shannon shore. When Witt1aM, Duke of Schumbug, ; A tyrant and a humbug, With cannon and with thunder on our city bore, Our fortitude and valliance _ , Insthructed his battalions To rispict the galliant Irish upon Shannon shore. Since that capitulation, No city in this nation So grand a reputation could boast before, As Limerick prodigious, That stands with quays and bridges, And the ships up to the windies of the Shannon shore. A chief of ancient line, _, ?Tis Wittt1am Suirx O'’Brinz, Reprisints this darling Limerick, this ten years or more : O the Saxons can’t endure _To see him on the flure, And thrimble at the Cicero from Shannon shore ! This valiant son of Mars Had been to visit Par’s, That land of Revolution, that grows the tricolor ; And to welcome his return _ , From pilgrimages furren, We invited him to tay on the Shannon shore. Then we summoned to our board : Young Meacusr of the sword : *Tis he will sheathe that battle-axe in Saxon gore; And Mirtcuit of Belfast, Convaniently to hould These patriots so bould, We tuck the opportunity of Tim Dooxay’s store ; And with ornamints and banners (As becomes gintale good manners) We made the loveliest tay-room upon Shannon shore. *T would binifit your sowls, To see the butthered rowls The sugar-tongs and sangwidges and craim galore, And the muffins and the crumpets, And the band of harps and thrumpets, To celebrate the sworry upon Shannon shore. Sure the Imperor of remem Would be proud to dthrink the tay That Misturess Bippy Rooney for O’Brine did pour; And, since the days of SrronGBow, There never was such Congo— Mircui dthrank six quarts of it—by Shannon shore. But Cirarnpon and Corry ConNELLANN beheld this sworry With rage and imulation in their black hearts’ core ; And they hired a gang of ruffins To interrupt the muffins, And the fragrance of the Congo on the Shannon shore. When full of tay and cake, O’ Bang began to spake, But juice a one could hear him, for a sudden roar a ragamuffin rout _ Began to yell and shout, And frighten the propriety of Shannon shore. As Smitn O’Bring harangued, They batthered and they banged : Tim Dooxan’s doors and windies, down they tore ; They smashed the lovely windies (Hung with muslin from the Indies), Purshuing of their shindies upon Shannon shore. With throwing of brickbats, Drowned puppies, and dead rats, These ruffin democrats themselves did lower ; ‘Tin kettles, rotten eggs, Cabbage-stalks, and wooden legs, They flung among the patriots of Shannon shore. O the girls began to scrame, And upset the milk and crame ; And the honourable gintlemin, they cursed and swore: And Mirtcuit of Belfast, *Twas he that looked aghast, When they roasted him in effigy by Shannon shore. O the lovely tay was spilt On that day of Ireland’s guilt; Says Jack Mircnit, “Iam kilt! Boys, where’s the back door ? *Tis a national disgrace; Let me go and veil me face ;” And he boulted with quick pace from the Shannon shore. ** Cut down the bloody horde ! ” Says Meacuer of the sword, “This conduct would disgrace any blackamoor ;” But the best use Tommy made Of his famous battle blade ; Was to cut his own stick from the Shannon shore. Immortal Smita O’ Brine Was raging like a line ; : *T'would have done your sow! good to have heard him roar ; In his glory he arose, And he rushed upon his foes But they hit him on the nose by the Shannon shore. Then the Futt and the Dthragoons Tn squadthrons and platoons, With their music playing chunes, down upon us bore ; And they bate the rattatoo, But the Peelers came in view, And ended the shaloo on the Shannon shore. A CONJUGAL BOOK. A work is advertised called Zhe Looking-Glass of Marriage! What a delicious mirror—when it can be made to bear a happy reflection ! _ We bade to our repast. To dthrink a dish of coffee on the Shannon shore. [N.B. Punch thinks this rather pretty.] VOL. XIV. U

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| | | ; induced to Let eee 196 —- PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL. PICTURES OF THE ENGLISH, PAINTED BY THE FRENCH. AN ENGLISH NOBLEMAN, 1848. (rfl 4 Nie MITH FEL } cn iganel ake ae « ting, il | } 4 > \—— F (NY 7 iH vill ; I SHALL SELL MY WIFE AT SMITHFIELD. Dam!” Milord. “Govam! Rossir ! CHATEAU DE WIGBOX.—CANNES. LL} BROUGHAM, after much pondering, having resolved"to Let his Mansion, known throughout the world as the Chateau de Wigbox, Cannes, in the Department of Var, France, will endeavour, in the limits of an advertisement, to enumerate a few of the advantages of that ELYSIUM UPON EARTH, Henceforth rendered, by the taste and reputation of its present pro- prietor, to all future generations, The Principal Shrine of Europe! Lorgp BrovcHaM begs to state—or rather he insists upon stating, for it is not his Lordship’s habit to beg anything—that he is not HIS SOUTHERN PARADISE TO A STEADY FAMILY, In consequence of any threatened charivari now in preparation for him —as reported in certain contemptible newspapers—-should he return to his EDEN ON THE GULF OF NAPOULE. It is his Lordship’s well-known contempt and hatred of all republican institutions—and of the Republic of France, as being based_upon the most crass ignorance, in particular—that induces him to Let upon ease HIS FAIRY HOME; ta] said Lease to be determinable on the return of Royalty to the illeries). The Chateau de Wigbox is built neither upon the Ionic, nor upon the Doric, but upon the true Chancery Order; and is therefore calcu- lated to accommodate any number of people of property for any length ofthe “Chateau a d full hill,—gracefully as th The Chateau stands gracefully upon a green hill,— y as the Wig of Equity surmounts the Brow of Wisdom. At the back are. THE RUINS OF AN ANCIENT CASTLE, Hitherto granted to the present proprietor as a stable, capable of holding any number of hobby-horses. The Chateau is so constructed that for a few months it may be compressed into A Jolly Bachelor’s Retreat, Or expanded into a residence of Palatial Dimensions. The Brown Srupy of his Lordship (furnished with all his works in every edition and in every language, for the use of foreigners) is further decorated with A HUNDRED ANDO FIFTY PORTRAITS OF HIMSELF In panel, with gold mouldings, from the tasteful designs of Mzssrs. | Leecu and Dove, transferred from a weekly periodical called Punch. This Picture-Gallery of One Face Is visited by the cognoscenti of all nations, and if exhibited at the humble price of only ten sous a head, would be found to return a revenue that WOULD ALONE PAY THE RENT! Lorp Brovexam will not dwell upon the Gardens (laid out after the | han, pe gence of Kine Cyrus) attached to the Chateau, but will briefly attention to the Forcing-Houses, admirably constructed for | the rapid production of Cyclopedian Articles (from A. to Z.), and Parliamentary Speeches. It is not needful for Lorp BroveHam to dwell upon the luxuriant climate of Cannes. i sings, “I’d be a butterfly!” Now at Cannes—so intoxicating is the air—he is one. Yes ; so delicious is the atmosphere, that, in the month of August, it is not too much for his Lordship to say that he has often felt himself A PEACOCK BUTTERFLY, ROVING FROM FLOWER TO FLOWER! Lorp BroveHaM may naturally be expected to touch upon the pro- ductions of Cannes. e does so with great confidence. In the first place, THE WOODS ARE FULL OF WILD-BOAR! But (since his Lordship’s residence) of so gentle a nature that the most timid female may ring their noses ! _ The Removal of Jewish Disabilities must naturally impetus to the trade of the Children of Israel ; whereupon THE LEMONS OF CANNES, So justly esteemed throughout France, and always used by his Lordship at intervals of addressing the House, will, no doubt, form an article of English commerce (in cabbage-nets, at the Elephant and Castle and other places), to be henceforth known as THE BROUGHAM AND VAUX LEMON! give a great To the dauntless lover of Anchovies and Sardines, the Gulf of Napoule | (that, like a marine Mapame CurFEy, does all the washing for Cannes) offers at once the sport of the deep, and the luxury of the table. For | the Anchovy, in great quantities, is caught WITH A HOOE! By the fishermen of the town, (See Lonp BroucHam’s Article “Cannes,” Penny Cyclopedia, vol. vi., p. 239), who sell it in quintals! _ . orp Brovcsam having dwelt at a modest length upon his own views, will now speak of the Views of Cannes. They combine a bird’s-eye look of the Isle of St. Marguerite, in the castle of which was confined | THE MAN IN THE IRON MASK, Whose autobiography Lorp Brovenam recently discovered in the well of the prison; and furthermore, it is at this moment in the Press. (Royal 8vo, price fifteen shillings. Apply early for copies.) is further distinguished as the place where NAPOLEON LANDED ON HIS RETURN FROM ELBA! His foot-prints, where he landed, are commemorated in bronze. | The foot-prints of Lorp Brovenam, where he left, are about to be eternized by a grateful community, in brass. Lord BrovcHamM might dwe length | advantages of Cannes. But his Lordship—it is —is a man of few words. Lorp BrovGcHamM anp Vavx will merely add, that to any Statesman tired of “fawning and glozing in a Court,” Cannes will afford a desirable retreat : for there, the lover of his species may learn to think the better of himself; whilst on the other hand even the misanthrope may find nutrition in his congenial lemon. f . The House will be Let for the term of the Republic.* The Furniture must be taken at Lop B.’s own valuation. (Address post-paid, House of Lords. No Campseut need apply.) *.* Mr. Punch, in the way of business, could not refuse the insertion of this Advertisement. He had, however, another object in printing it; as its style now leaves no doubt of what has long been a mystery, _—. the authorship-of the Advertisements of the late GrorcE OBINS. In England, man, in his vain aspirations, sometimes | at length upon the beauties and | own to all the world | | | | Cannes

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 197 HIGH ART AND THE ROYAL ACADEMY. : NG N@ Hh / -v MEDLEVAL-ANGELICO-PUGIN-GOTHIC, OR FLAT STYLE, _ “Dear Poncu,—I ay two reduced copies of my grand his- torical pictures of Prince Henry striking Judge Gascoigne in Court, which have just been refused admission at the Royal Academy, for want of room, hoping that in your widely circulated journal they may obtain some of that applause which has been denied them in Trafalgar Square. “You will perceive that although both illustrate the same subject, the styles are widely different, one being in the Medisval-Angelico- Pugin-Gothic, or flat style, and the other after the manner of the Fuseli-Michael-Angelesque School. > ‘I did this in the hope (a vain one) that in case one was rejected, the | ll FUSELI-MICHAEL-ANGELESQUE SCHOOL. | other would be certain of a place, and vice versd; or that they might | both be accepted, and being in such opposite styles, would gratify the admirers of both periods of Art; but oh, how miserably have I been deceived and disappointed ! ae T am not a vain man; but excuse me, Sir, for saying that justice has not been done; that I /ee/ these to be fine historical pictures, and that | when the Exhibition opens on Monday, I shall be there, and it will | astonish me very much if there be upon the walls anything like my two ‘Your admirer, “One oF THE NinE HunpReD ResecteD Onzs.” works. | §* April 29, 1848,” PUNCH’S NATURAL HISTORY. Tue SwepisH NIGHTINGALE (Curruca Lumlyana.) _ Tus Mihtaasle is the most celebrated of all the warblers; but she is the one of which least need be said, simply because nothing can describe her. In the first place, there is no mistaking this Nightingale, nothing in the world singing like her. She is the most graceful of all the warblers, being about five feet high, with an extent and strength of wing that carry her over continents and across seas, borne upon the breath of heartiest, deepest gratitude and praise. Her shape is very succinct, and her habits at once frank, graceful, shy, and receding. Her nest is in the wide world’s heart, even though the said nest is feathered with the finest bank-paper, carrying the very heaviest figures. She sings equally well whether by day or night; and may often be heard in the vicinity of Hanover Square, about two in the afternoon; and as late as ten, somewhere in the Haymarket, in the evening. Her range of voice is wonderful; reaching from the ak to the stars, whereabout she seems to flutter and dally, * Still quiring to the young-eyed cherubim.” She does not deal in the “jugjug” of the Curruca luscinia,—so well ng to all pastoral folk, but gushes forth all sorts of sounds. Now deal ** Oh, gioja, oh gioja—Io ti ritrovo, Elvino! "— sounds that touch the tears into the eyes of the listener. And now she pours forth a stream of plaintive song, and our heart floats away upon it to blissfulness. Sometimes she pours out— ** Ah! non giunge,” and they seem to flash like a shower of diamonds, of ethereal sparks, kindling and subliming the sense they fall upon. ys We cannot arrive at a certain knowledge of the food of this Nightin- gale. Some say she lives upon roses steeped in moonbeams; some, on melted amber. But, certain it is, from the divine emanations of her music, most certain it is— **She on honey-dew hath fed, And drunk the milk of Paradise.” _ In fine, she is the Queen of Song, and as she lists, with her melodious lips controls each impulse of the subject heart. _A Generat Mouryine ror Irng~anp!—Mr. Smita O’Brien’s sinister eye.

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PUNCH, OR THE PROVISIONAL GOVERNMENT OF FASHION. HER Ponche,—HEetas! mon ami, accord to my griefs one little corner of your excellent Journal. In me behold the dethroned —oten ah w veritable ex- monarch of France. My reign survived the Revolution which overthrew the Bourbons; it was superior to that of NapoLEon himself; it ceased not with the Restoration, nor with the acces- sion of the citizen-king: but it has fallen with the dynasty of Lovis-PuitiereE. Ah! mon cher Ponche, 1 am dethroned by the Provisional Government. peer have usurped that dicta- torship which, from my throne in Paris, I exercised over the civilized world. Not content with taking on themselves the affairs of the nation, they have assumed the administration of my province, and have not hesitated to prescribe rules for costume. Do you know what ) _they have done? They have ordained that the Members of the National Assembly shall wear a black coat, a white waistcoat with lappels, a tricolor sash witha gold fringe, and also in the left button-hole a red ribbon, on which shall be worked the fasces of the Republic. This they have decreed, as they say, ‘con- sidering that the principle of equality implies uniformity of costume for the citizens called to the same Tesstionn. “ But, Mr. Ponche, if the principle of oqnality implies that, does not the principle of liberty also imply that each individual shall wear what he pleases, subject always to my direction? What, I demand, does the Provisional Government know of coats, and waistcoats, and sashes, of fringes, of pantaloons, of ribbons and button-holes? It is to me that belongs the arrangement of that sort of thing. Aid me, cher Ponche, in the assertion of my just claims. It is true that you have sometimes made jokes of me and my subjects—their coiffures and moustaches, and beards, and trowsers, and boots. Nevertheless, I confide that you will not allow me to suffer injustice, and will boldly declare to M. Lamar- TINE and his colleagues, that it is enough for them to mind their own business without interfering with mine, so that they ought not to invent dresses any more, but to leave all such things to myself, who have the honour to be “ Mon cher Ponche, ** Your thrice-devoted admirer, La Mope.” | | THE LIMERICK TRAGEDY. Scene I.—The Sarsfield Confederation Club at Limerick. M1tcHEtt, Meacuer, Smitu O’Brien, and Conreperates, at Tea, lst Confederate. Friends, countrymen, and traversers— Mitchell. Say traitors. Traitors, man, traitors; stick not at the word. lst Confederate. Friends, countrymen, and traitors—is your tea Agreeable ? Meagher. To render it perfection, Give me another knob. Thanks. Oh! my friends, Would that this knob, now, were a Saxon pate, This spoon a stout shillelagh. Smith O’Brien. Sir, Amen! Mitchell. Would that yon teapot, which contains Souchong, Were charged, instead, with real gunpowder ; The — a fuse, the whole a why renade, That I might hurl it on the Saxon slaves ! Mob (without). Yah! Come out o’ that! Bad luck to ye! Hurroo! 2nd Confederate. What means this hubbubboo ? Meagher. It is the roar Of the Young Irish Lion. Mitchell, Glorious din! He cries for English blood. Cry on. Thy thirst Shall soon be slaked ; soon shall thy fangs be flesh’d In the black hearts of Britain’s myrmidons. Smith O’ Brien. Well roared, young Lion! Let him roar again. Mob (without). Wel larn ye to fling mud upon O’ConnELL. [Mob howls again. THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 3rd Confederate. What say they of O’ConNELL? Smith O’ Brien. Never heed : His was the paltry creed of Moral Force, And it hath perish’d with him. Give us pikes! Mitchell. Pikes is the word. Pikes! For the love of Heaven Get pikes—get rifles if you can—get scythes— Get reap-hooks—cut and mangle, smite and stab The scoundrel Saxon. Crush them into jam With tables, chairs, hand-basins—any thing— From bed-room-windows flung. Throw molten lead : Squirt scalding vitriol in their soldiers’ eyes. (A brickbat comes through the window, and smashes MiTCHELL’s cup and saucer. Ha! what was that ? Meagher. A little compliment, Which doubtless was intended for the head Of some Old Irelander among the crowd. Mitchell. A well-meant argument—had it told home— But ’twas a mercy that it miss’d my head. [More howling from the mob. Eh! What’s all this? ’Tis very like a row. Gracious—’tis not the time for fighting yet ! [A ruddy glare appears at the window, Renewed yelling from the mob, lst Confederate. Look out. 2nd Confederate. Whats the matter ? 3rd — (mounting on a chair, looks through the window). What oI see? A gibbet—yes, a gibbet—at the door, ’Neath it a blazing tar-barrel, o’er which Dangles an effigy. Why! What? Yes! No! Yes, by the Powers it is—MitcHett—'tis thine! (A stone flung through the window strikes the speaker, who falls. Smith O’ Brien. We are betrayed. Mitchell. This is the Saxon’s work. Mob (without). Moral Force and O’ConneEtt for ever ! (More stones are thrown through the windows. Some of the Con- Sederates fire pistols on the mob, who knock violently without. Other Confederates tear up benches and pile them against the | doors. MitcHELL, MEAGHER, and O’Brien, stand aghast with horror. Meagher. What ’s to be done ? Smith O’ Brien. Quick—let us fly. Mitchell. I say, lend me a pistol. Meagher. Have you not a dagger ? Mitchell. Will some good fellow find me a disguise ? A Carter, one of the Confederates. Here, take this frieze. Mitchell. Thou art a friend in need! How to escape! [The door is burst open. The mobrushin and attack the Confederates, The tables are overturned, the crockery smashed, &c. Ha! through the casement !—Onward come our foes! *Tis neck or nothing now, and so here goes. (Heit MircHe., scrambliny out of window, followed by MEAGHER and SuaitH O'BRIEN. Scene Il.—The Office of the“ United Irishman.’ Sub-Editor, and Persons employed upon the Paper. lst Person. How ’seaped our Editor this awful shindy ? Qud Person. Almost by miracle. Press’d by the crowd, Who hurl’d all sorts of missiles on his head, Dagger in hand, with which, umbrella-like, He warded off the heavy shower of blows Which fell from the shillelaghs, he the door Gained of a dwelling-house, and there he fought, Since he could run no further, till the folks Their friendly portal oped and let him in. 1st Person, And how sped MEAGHER ? 2nd Person. Guarded by two friends, Who right and left hit ’mong the furious mob, Belaboured sore ; yet with unbroken bones MeaGuer got safely into his hotel. lst Person, And Smit O’Brien ? Qnd Person. Faith, I cannot say ; But much I fear it is all up with him. Soft! hither comes our batter’d Editor, With his much bruised friend. Enter MitcHEtt and MEAGHER. * Meagher. Oh, brutes | Oh, beasts ! Oh, rapparees! Could I believe my eyes, Or credit even my aching sides, which told me That Irishmen were thrashing [reland’s friends ? Mitchell. Oh! that the skin which clothes this form of mine— This poor tann’d hide—a Saxon did incase. Ah! what a twinge was that. But all my hurts Are nothing to my inward bruises. Oh!

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Y iis / WE ~ > THE BATTLE OF LIMERICK.

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‘SUHILUNOO UAH ONIAOUdAY ALOANVO NAWAO - | Y A Ny 1) If | | i! } BY RPA 10) SMR A / WS MY Hi) f Hd) a/R i D iH ce {iy | SG aie AH |) |, | wilt Ki if Na a) 1 | \\ \\ > = He AMIR hy sll ad | 1 | | ( \ \ ' ' ) | ! , f ! ih) | Ht | } i ‘ \ i | ae | A Y nT Ks , ay da, | ; f ' | \ \ \ \ ih), i i, hy i " ii | \ | { i | \\ ( if / (i fi (Z t ii aN il | } } | | \ WOE ot | aH | I LY | Hii Ie HI \\ ia it |}! i Ha SS bs)! } | i SSS")! | a7 ANOS | (Nt if | }! iy oh Hr ' H tH | | i fiif it ti | \ al | ! j ‘g PAIN! | 4\ | || {Ht = Sewanee? " inne 1 = | . j a) 3S NS =~ - ae ~ + __—__ ———————— “tn

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| Mircnets shall thus | “plus de cing ans,” in building “ Chateaux en Espagne.” PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 203 To think that we were rescued by the troops And the police, our most detested foes ! The thought is madness. Hateful is the debt. Oh, for a pike to pay it ere I die! Meagher. But yonder, lo, where Surry O’Brien comes, Enter Smitu O'BRIEN, With bandaged head and deeply livid eye ; Look how he limpeth: he hath caught it most. ! How fares it with thee, Smrrn ? Smith O’ Brien. My ow is black’d—(pauses) I have a broken—— But I can no more. Meagher, Thine utterance doth supply thy want of breath. [Embraces him, Smith O’Brien. Aye, in the mouth I am completely down! Mitchell. Never will I survive the dire disgrace ! Impale me on a pike, gash me with scythes, Blind me with vitriol to my burning shame ! Sub-Editor. Sir, don’t you think you’d better go to bed ? Mitchell. No, Sir. To dull Oblivion’s couch I fly ; politically die! " nocks hat over his head, and exit. Meagher. A good example. So will I. (Exit, Smith O’Brien. And I. | Exit. Sub-Editor. An awful drop: as much I fear that we In our forthcoming Number, too, shall see. Unhappy Mrrcue xt, foolish was thy course Tn preaching Physical ’gainst Moral Force : The rival Forces did at length unite, And drubb’d thee handsomely—and served thee right. (Thunders of applause, Curtain falls. PARIS. (From our own Correspondent.) Bests his Chateau at Cannes, Lorp Broveuam has been employed, ¢ i ildi A very pretty design in one of these, having the Provisional Government of France | delivering letters of naturalisation in the foreground, and the election of President of the ao in the distance, has been unfortunately spoiled by some ill-disposed person having written on it, “ J/ m’est impossible @ accueillir votre demande.—CREMIEUX.” Liperty OF THE Press.—A Paris journal says, ‘Thursday was a magnificent day. From daylight one unbroken series of clouds poured down a close, penetrating, ceaseless rain, that, spite of all precautions, wetted one to the skin. There was not a gleam of sunshine.” Ina Republic every one may publish what he thinks; but “ Diffrent men—diff'rent opinions, Some loves apples—some loves inions.” Rejected Jokes. THE proprietors of the two following things, called jokes, can have them by making application at the Punch Office, and paying for them. The charge is according to weight, so there can be no dispute about payment, as the articles are always weighed in the presence of the owners. 4 the bye the lightest subjects are generally found the heaviest. The two ollowing weigh 28lbs. 90z. and afew pennyweights. The first is called— How To Make A Room airy’? The answer to which is, ‘‘ Rub the walls all over with RowLanp’s Macassar.” _ The second one is—if the reader has patience for another—“ What is the most favourable season to have letters from India?” and the reply to this jocular inquiry is, ‘‘ The season that brings them on soon” (the Monsoon), We have thousands more of the same quality; but we are sure our fastest readers will not be angry with us if we reserve them for another dose. Homeopathy is best in such cases. Pecuniary Embarrassment.—To the Benevolent. AN Unfortunate Government, Toratty Brinp, in consequence of which +4 severe affliction it has plunged headlong into an Expensive War, suddenly finds itself involved in Hostilities, without a Sor in the Locker. In this awkward and alarming Predicament, it is obliged to throw itself on the Generosity of its Country, or of any other that may think it worthy of Assistance. A Loan of Ten Dollars or Thirty Shillings will confer on it an obligation which will be duly acknowledged by an I.0.U.; and the lender is earnestly requested to believe that Inrrrest will be paid for the Monzy. A Silver Snuff-box, Candlestick, Spoon, or even Toothpick, will be gladly accepted in lieu of cash; and the smallest contribution, down to the most insignificant copper, thankful! received. N.B. As the Government is employed in an Invasion of its Ne1onzours, it —— trusts Ny meet AyK gp eoy ie vod ng pm age of es oe At of ¢ BENeEricent, it expec’ ena leprive them, Address—i etter it paid—to the Treasury, Berlin. - — PORTRAITS OF THE FRENCH DEPUTIES om om vy dali) \/ Nd = \ " Wh) 7 THIN { NINN) NTRVTLIMLWOR UN) PTY NV Aer NS \ Y ae X i ) ‘ Niwa Jedijantion (9 Wit soon be in excessive demand amongst the various pictorial newspapers. We do not intend to be behind our age in the gratifica- tion of this laudable povenene Fs but in order to get through the 900 originals within any reasonable time, it will be advisable that their likenesses should come out by instalments. , ; Behold then, above, the first Number of this new and glorious Picture ery. These deputy a are all warranted perfect like- nesses, and the late decree of the visional Government, enjoining iformity of costume, has onan simplified our labours. e may mention that a friend has suggested that we should affix the name below each portrait; but we think it is really too bad, when we furnish their exact likenesses, to be asked besides for the names of the particular individuals they so faithfully represent. In order to supply our readers—the world we mean—with instantaneous representations of the great men and events so rapidly succeeding each other, we have in store a large stock of stereo- typed statesmen, skeleton heroes, ready to be endowed with life by a lively dash of the pencil. Thus the annexed has been kept ready for the likeness of the French President, and with the addition of the features, yet to be supplied, the face will appear instinct with life. . Again, should Rapetsk1 defeat Cuaries ArzeErt in some bloody fight, or vice versd, the visage of the victor shall instantly be thrown off from one of a set of faces, merely requiring the judicious application of a nose and eyes to make them faithful resemblances. We hereby warn any gentleman who shall first make himself remarkable on the stage of Europe, that we have at least so much— of his profile in pickle. As this is all complete except the nose and colour of the hair, we shall have those transmitted to us by electric telegraph. Some interesting d¢meutes a soon be expected in France; and as the public will require them to be truly and instantaneously depicted, we beg to state that an acquaintance of ours on hand some old yey ony of the Bristol Riots, the Portezus Mob, &c., which he will be happy to part with at first cost. LM Gin, Gross Ignorance. Tue French have been much abused for onpting the English work- men from their land. The whole affair appears to have originated in a my eR wg The English called themselves “ journeymen, which the French translated into “gens de voyage,” and in consequence with their usual politeness, refused to interrupt them in their intende expedition, even to work for the French people.’ To ‘Meagher of the Sword.” Wuex first you preach’d treason, my joy,' We thought you in earnest and eager— A regular “ Broth of a Boy ;” But you seem to be only Soupe Meagher. SEASONABLE PHENOMENON. As a remarkable indication of the early advent of summer this year, may be noticed the fact, that a lump of ice has made its appearance in the window of the Wenham Lake Company’s shop in the Strand.

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204 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI | WHAT DO THEY MEAN BY IT? | Iris really very difficult to make out what on | earth the papers mean by their foreign corres- pondence, which tells us one day that the French Republic is safe, and informs us to-morrow that | everything is in the most alarming jeopardy. We know it is rather difficult just now to specu- to be good for a day’s post at least, instead of || | If we are told one day that everything in Paris | betokens a consolidation of the new order of things, we shall be doubtless told to-morrow that there must be a speedy return to a monarchy. We wish the newspaper gentlemen would make up their minds into something a little more sub- stantial than they now seem to represent, for it is clear that the slightest breeze or breath will | dissipate all their sagest conclusions, and bring {them to an opinion completely opposite to that | they have expressed within a few brief hours. | We have long given up being guided or influenced by any judgment formed on the spot, for such |judgments are affected by the genius loci, and become as uncertain and p Rand om as the minds | of the people are where the writers are living. —— —— . A Punster in spite of himself. 7 A wRITER in the Zimes, commenting on the ——_ | alleged correspondence between Lorp PALMER- | Old Gentleman. “ Watt, Water, I suppose you HAVE GoT INTO LatIN AND GREEK AT SCHOOL a ee wgee 4 ~ oon py il BY THIS TIME, EH f | says that the affair “has placed the envoy in Juvenile. “ On yes, Sir ; I HAVE JUST FINISHED XENOPHON AND THUCYDIDES, AND AM NOW | g most unenv(o)yable position.” in Evriprpes. By THE WAY, SIR, HOW WOULD YOU RENDER THE PASSAGE BEGINNING kax@s| We quite acquit our contemporary of any wénpaxta: maytax7 t” malice prepense in this astounding jeu de mot ; Old Gentleman. “Anem! Hey !—waat?—anem! Here, RuaGies! BrinG ANOTHER BOTTLE | but there it is; the thing is done, and there is no or CLaRET, AND—EH?—wHaT?! Water, I THINK YOU HAD BETTER JOIN THE LapIEs.” help for it. MAY-DAY’S LIBERTY TREES. May has come up with quickening breath, to breathe about the flowers | Next Germany came much bemused with Burschen-schaft and beer : That thro’ the mould of wood and wold peep up from April showers; | He first was all for fixing there, then all for fixing here ; All is blossom, bloom, and burgeon on trim lawns and woodland leas, | One moment hot for Poplar, the next agog for Oak, And Freedom’s trees are sprouting, like other kinds of trees ; | Till Liberty began to think his choice would end in smoke. So kindly Lady Liberty, to her May-day game addrest, | So she left him roaming vaguely thro’ her garden for a tree, Hath thrown her nursery open to the nations of the West. | Now roaring an “auf Bruder” now a “ Crambambuli,” “ Fair speed, old friends and new ones ! let each his skill essay | Hid in clouds of his own blowing—moyen-age in coat and hat, To choose his Tree of Liberty, this merry month of May. | And apparently quite hazy as to what he would be at. “ Mine is a Dryad’s nature—I flourish and I fade, | Then Italy came leaping, like a strong man out of sleep, ; I have my scathings and = | blights, bare time and time of shade; | And with outspread arms the Laurel boughs and Olive down did sweep : So each of you his tree shall plant, and call it after me, | Be these my trees, and thine this wreath—for peace and for renown. And I shall wane or wax, as fades or flourishes my tree. And Liberty looked on well-pleased, and took the proffered crown. “T have laurels whose green glossiness is due to bloody rains, | But Britain in that garden stood, like one familiar there, ' hose roots suck strength from that dark loam which fattens battle | And watched the rush of stranger guests, with an untroubled air, plains; And shook his head, or nodded, as each chose his tree of choice, I have mountain pines, rock-rifted, slow of growth as they are strong, | But never shifted foot the while, nor lifted up his voice. Poplars, in one night spindled up, as weak as they are long. | * Your tree?” at last quoth Liberty, when Britain, calm of soul, “*T have broad platanes, such as cooled Ilissus’ waters clear ; | Turn’d fondly to the Oak, and spread his broad hand on the bole. Olives, the growth of Italy, no longer shrunk and sere ; | ?Tis gnarled,” he said, “but honest—slow of growth, but firm of And this green sire, whose gnarléd limbs still blunt the axe’s stroke, | grain ; Ringed with a thousand summers—the knotty British Oak.” 1n ’ . . | | Up from the ground he drinks the dew; down from the skies, the rain. To mingled Mursellaise and Mourir pour la Patrie, Musket in hand, red cap on head, sprang France to choose his tree. “Laurels? Bah! Of that plant, for me at will to pick and pull, The Little Corporal stuck France, if possible, too full. “Pines? Ah, owi—Guillaume Tell, et ce grand ténor, Durrez! Olives P—pas mal for a dessert, or to help a salad—mais— The Oak? Ah, par example! The Oak for France, gue non! The Oak !—a grand, grand, grand jamais! Ah, perfide Albion ! “Voyons—What’s left? Ah, va, this trunk, so gentille and so slim, So nobly sudden, too, in | ee —I fix my choice on him! The Tree of any | for France the Poplar I proclaim, And with a grand fraternal /ée inaugurate the same !”” “ His roots took time in spreading, but spread wider for the time ; | Ring gradual welded on to ring, he broadened to his prime: | He has witnessed generations of quicker-blooded trees | Shoot up, sink down, since first the fern clustered about his knees. | “ This is my tree; the Liberty I crave, like this should thrive— A thing of growth, however slow, in every vein alive. Let France have Poplars, if she will; and at your garden call For a tree per Revolution: my Oak is once for all. * All he asks is careful tending. Foul things, at times, no doubt Will roost in his broad branches ; I must put them to the rout. He has dead wood to cut away; bruis’d branches to sustain : | But still my Oak, through all, is Oak—through all, shall Oak remain.” late on the probable turn of events; but surely | the sagacity of the foreign correspondents ought | | being worth only about half-an-hour’s purchase, | | | | | | { i |

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were Fs Us Sw oc Pew ~~ F © Del el ee ed ee ee ee ee PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 205 A NEW MENAGERIE. | Tu Zoological Society has recently accomplished a piece of wonderful liberality in throwing — to the public the entire collection of animals at a low charge, instead of going through the farce of insisting on a Fellow’s order (and almost any fellow would do), with the accompanying | charge of one shilling. We understand that the authorities of the Stock Exchange are about to throw open to the public their celebrated collection of living Bulls and Bears, at a low figure. The Bulls will go through their wonderful feats of tossin uP, by way of illustration of the gambling spirit that pervades the Stock Exchange; and it is intended | also to combine a choice collection of Stags, being the small remnant of this breed that nee to be preserved after the famous panic in the | Railway Share-market. LETTER OF ADVICE TO MR, COCHRANE. Mr. Cocurane, My contemporary, the Moraing Chronicle, informs me that on Thursday last, at a meeting of the inhabitants of St. Martin-in-the- Fields, in the Vestry Room of that parish, convened for the promotion of Reform, you got up to make a speech, and having introduced remarks extraneous to the topic under discussion, you were very | properly stopped by the Chairman, and, in fact, put down. | It is clear, therefore, that you were not aware that by the ridiculous failure of your late attempt at agitation, you are as a political rushlight, completely extinguished and snuffed out. I begin to recognise you as a true Englishman: you never know when you are beaten. Let me beg of you to be convinced that it is all over with you as an agitator; that as a demagogue you are effectually shut up. ; _ I know what you want. It is notoriety. I will help you to obtain it to the very best of my power. I will place you in communication with Mr. Netson Ler, and use my interest with him, to enable you to make any display you please outside of his establishment (late RicHarpson’s) at Greenwich Fair. T shall be most happy to recommend you to the proprietor of Astley’s, in case anything we Acer should happen to Nx Barry. I will commission my own barber to shave your eye-brows ; and any one of my artists whom you may choose to select, shall tip your nose with sky-blue. ill furnish you with as many designs as you may require for | your advertising carts, provided that they shall be simply calculated | to render you personally conspicuous. : In short, I will gladly aid you in any attempt to attract public attention as a common mountebank ; but mind, not as a political one. You must really abandon all connexion with public affairs. | — In particular, I warn you to cease altogether to mix yourself up with | the question of Reform; for you must not be suffered to damage a | good cause by the contempt and odium your advocacy will necessarily _ entail upon it. Iam, Mr. Cocurang, ye Your judicious adviser, oe . PUACR. WE regret to state that the Limerick Revolution has not beena bloodless one. The descendant of Brian Borv’s nose bled profusely ; and, as he received a black eye on the occasion, it has been remarke that the “‘ demonstration ” was an ocu/ar one for him. THE CONFLICT OF THE COATS. WE find, by a tremendous article in one of the Communist papers of Paris, that the struggle now going on in France is a combat for life and death between the Blouse and the Redingote. It seems rather absurd that these two articles of the wardrobe should be in such a state of inveterate hostility. Nor can we see exactly how they are to fight, unless they begin to dash each other’s buttons, or perhaps exchange cuffs in the course of their combat. The Blouse will have one peculiar advantage over the Redignote, for the former can hang on to the latter’s skirts, whereas the former has no skirts for the latter to hang upon. We should be very sorry to see a similar revolution in England, and we can only hope that no one will ever be base enough to set the Taglioni in dire antagonism to the Wiepanen, or create enmity between the Paletét and the Pea-jacket, the Wellington and the Highlow, the Buckskins and the Over-alls. We hope with all our hearts, that he who first attempts to rouse the Fustian against the Saxony, may experience that 7 eee which is considered so beneficial to the article last mentioned. “Oh Where, and Oh Where?” Ou where, and oh where is young Smiru O’BRIEN gone ? He went to get the French to assail the English throne ; And it’s oh in my heart he ’d much best have stayed at home. Oh, suppose and suppose he must fight or p’rhaps must die. Then it's oh in m loot I believe he ’d qui te For he found he’d got enough when they gave a black eye. COMMERCIAL INTELLIGENCE. THE Mercantile Articles in the daily press usually commence with— | “We have received papers from Paris.” Since the suspension of | cash payments, it is useless to expect anything else. | THE PORTFOLIO. | l.—From Viscount Pumicestone to H. E. the English Ambassador at | Constantinople. STEEMED S1r,—I have to desire | that you will wait on the Grand Vizier and convey to His Ex- | cellency the sentiments which actuate this Government with regard to the present position of the Ottoman Empire. “You will state to the Grand | Vizier that the line of politics | pursued by the Sultan can by no means meet with the | approval of this country. Re- | forms are needed in the admi- | nistration and in the religion | of the Ottoman Empire, the | adoption of which you will urge | with all the energy in your | power. “The spectacle of a Sultan surrounded by at least five hundred wives, is odious to Europe, and unworthy of the resent age of civilisation. ER Magesty’s Government blushes to have to acknowledge, post after post, the birth of Princes and Princesses of the family of ABpuL MepsexEp ; and as England has not the slightest pretentions to control the actions of any state with which she is in alliance, you will point out to the Government of the Porte that His Imperial Highness is at — liberty to select any one of his wives which he may prefer, but that he must send back to their parents the remaining four hundred and ninety-nine. ; “The religion at present — by the Sovereign of the Turkish Empire, and by a considerable portion of his subjects, is, you will have the goodness to inform the Grand Imaum, an exploded superstition and an insult to the civilisation of Europe. It must no longer allowed to exist in this quarter of the globe. ; “You will therefore request His Excellency, on the part of this Government, to subscribe the Thirty-nine Articles as soon as may be; and also, at his earliest convenience, to learn the Oatechism. The Mollah of Exeter, an English Bishop, will go out to conciliate the Turkish clergy, and will be Patriarch of Constantinople. ne “Further reforms will be the subject of future communications.

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206 Among these you may mention our desire that the Turkish Government should establish Gas-lamps, Trial by Jury, Weekly and Sunday News- papers, Harvey Sauce, two legislative Chambers, and the Ten Pound qualification for voting. “Tam, &., ** PUMICESTONE, “ To H. E. Sm G. Goosequ11.” ** Downing Street.” Il.—From the Grand Vizier to H. E. the English Ambassador. “Tn the name of Allah! The Grand Vizier has received the chaplet | of roses from the Paradise of Downing Street. The eloquence of | | Pumicestons sings out like a nightingale from amongst the flowers. It | is sweet to listen to his music. “ But the nightingale, though sweet, is melancholy ; and who does not know that there are thorns in roses P—they have pricked the fingers of | the Grand Vizier. The notes of the British bulbul have made the | Padishah sad in spirit, “Why should he part with any of his wives? Let him who has too many sew them ina sack. The children of the Father of the Faithful will not be so costly to his country as are the many rosebuds of the Joy-Gardens of Pimlico. “The Exeter Mufti shall be welcome to the holy men of Constanti- nople. If Pumicestone Pasua will change his religion, the Grand Vizier will be baptised. If the English Mollah is constant, why should the Turkish Imaum be a renegade. Let them come and each have his say. If they brawl and quarrel too much, let either be accommodated with a bastinado. “In respect of the other reforms proposed by Britannic wisdom, the Grand Vizier will respectfully ask—Are Britons the only possessors of beards? Who is it that rules in his own house P—Is it the lord of the house, or his neighbour? PumicgesTonE is a sage, but we too have es. ‘Once, in the gardens of Delight, overhanging the Bosphorus, the young prince SHukoor KHANDEE, son of the Light of the Universe, found the egg of a peacock, which he took to the Sutrana Vauipé, the mother of the sovereign. ‘ Look, O Grandmother,’ said Prince Suukoor; ‘this outer surface that you see is what they call a shell. Within the shell is a white slimy fluid, within the white a yellow yolk. I prick the head of the shell with a pin; I place it to my lips, and suck in, and lo! I withdraw the yolk and the white from the shell, and they slip down my own throat.’ **O, wise in thine own conceit!’ the Princess answered. ‘Dost thou teach thy father’s mother how eggs are eaten? Lo! I knew how to suck them before thou camest into the world!’ And, clapping her hands for Mzsrour, the Chief of the Eunuchs, she bade him apply the bamboo to the Prince SHuxoor. **Do we not also know how to suck eggs, O, Ambassador? So write to Pumicestons Pasua, and bid him to operate on his own henroosts. “ To the British Minister.” “Kasos Pasna,” Il.—From Viscount Pumicestons fo H, E. Lorp Tapeworm, at Petersburg. “You will have the goodness to communicate to H. E. Count Groce- PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL NorF the opinions of this Government upon some late acts of Russian policy. They by no means meet with the approval of Her B. Majesty’s | visers, “The treatment of Poland can never be looked upon by this country | but with 4 of indignation and pity. You will urge upon the Councils of His Imperial Majesty, the instant necessity of changing his | method of administering the affairs of that unhappy portion of his empire. “You will recommend H. I. M. immediately to recognise the inde- pendence of the Circassian tribes, and to send to Scuamyt Bey his order of St. Nepomuk of the first class. “Tt is the desire Of this Government that Trial by Jury should be immediately established throughout all the Russias, especially in the Calmuck provinces of the Empire. The Tartars on the Chinese border imperatively require slate-roofed houses: with thorough drains, and gas and water laid on. It Would be advisable to have a Methodist Meeting- house in their villages, and that the English system of pauper relief should be adopted throughout the Russian Empire. “We would suggest to H. I. M. that a Window-tax would be an advantageous impost to levy on the Cossacks of the Ukraine, and that a Water-rate on the Don and Volga might conduce to the increase of his revenue. “The uniform of the Preobajinski Regiment cannot but be highly displeasing to Her Masesty’s Government : the yellow coatee and pin breeches of that corps neither harmonise with the silver helmet nor the green morocco boots which they wear. A great and august authority on Military Costume in England, is anxious that changes should take place in this particular, consonant to the spirit of the times ‘and the advance of freedom. “The cut of the Emperor’s whiskers has been viewed in this country with the deepest grief. Instead of growing them over the cheek-bone, you will have the goodness to suggest to his Imperial Majesty the necessity of altering their direction; a portrait of a distinguished | military officer is sent out for this purpose, to which H. 1. M. is earnestly invited to give his attention. “The usage of the knout is not viewed by this country with pleasure; nor the practice of eating tallow-candles, in which some of the subjects of H. I. M. fatally indulge. It will be as well to abolish the knout ; and to refrain from making use of dips in the manner described. “The dinner hour of the Court of St. Petersburg might be advan- tageously changed; the censorship of the Press ought to be abolished ; the poor 4 ought to be represented in Parliament; the fares of the droskies in St. Petersburg diminished. Gas should be laid down in Siberia; the Empress’s maids of honour reduced in number; London Porter, Missionary Meetings, New Policemen, and Daily Papers, should be established in all the principal towns of the Empire, and it is very desirable that the middle-classes of St. Petersburg and Moscow should eat shoulders of mutton and baked potatoes on Sunday, instead of their present unwholesome meal of fish-oil and hemp-brandy. “You will communicate, to the above purport, with the Government of His Imperial Majesty. * (Signed) PUMICESTONE.” “To H. E., Lory Tareworm.” 1V.—From the Russian Minister to the English Ambassador. “T have the honour to accuse the reception of Your Excellency’s letter, containing the proposals of His Excellency, MiLor PUMICEsTONE, for the better regulation of this Empire. “H. I. M. is profoundly touched by the interest which H. E. deigns to take in the afiairs of Russia.~ H. M. is charmed by the modesty of a philanthropy so universal.‘ There is no doubt but the English Empire is at present so happy that its statesmen have time to consider what will most conduce to the welfare of other countries, and that all pe a of the world cannot do better than let the English manage or them. “*H. I. M. hopes that the state of the country will soon permit him to abolish the ‘use of the knout, and at the same time desires to know | when flogging will cease in the English Army ? | ““H. 1. M. will not fail to have a Chamber of Peers, and a Chamber of Commons for the regulation of the affairs of his empire, as soon as his | Imperial mind is convinced that hereditary wisdom of necessity belongs | to the nobility : in the meanwhile he is content to select his own Senate: | and without the noise and trouble of elections he can find Councillors as | | | | pure as Mr. Arrwoop and as wise as CoLONEL SIBTHORP. “H. M. will not enter into the other questions which are touched upon in H. E.’s agreeable letter ; but H. M. cannot enter into reforms of his own states at this moment, so deeply is he interested in the affairs of | Ireland—which, before all things, he wishes to see tranquil. “ As soonas that country is quiet and industrious, His Majesty pledges himself that he will withdraw his garrisons from Warsaw; that he will grant a free press, to preach rebellion and inculcate the murder of the Government authorities. But, in the meanwhile, H. I. M. submits to Lorp Pumicestong, that it is possible that even English Institutions are not suitable to all countries; that even against English Laws there are some people who complain, and would rebel; and that H. I. M. feels himself strong enough for the present to manage his own affairs, without the obliging intervention of H. E. Viscount PumIcEsTONE. *T beg your Excellency to accept the assurances of, &c., * Baron STRONGENOFF-GROGENOF?.

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 207 ON THE NEW FORWARD MOVEMENT. A Letter from our old friend, Mr. Sxoxz, to Mr. JosernH Hume. STEEMED S1r,—Seldom directly | with politics, I offer a humble but particularly warm adhesion tothe princi- ples of your programme for the 24th. Any services in my line I beg you to command. I believe that the country is not fairly represented, and that Lord This coerced his voters at Stamford, while Mr. That urchased his at Kinsale. I lackballed ,Caprain Firz- WHISKERS at the club last week with perfect satisfaction, and without risk of personal colli- sion with the Captain, who is since gone abroad, and I do not see why Lorp ExeETER’s . tenants should not have a similar modest way of assert- ing their opinions. If ballot is an un-English practice, 1 hope it will soon be an English one. If there were more lia- ments, and more voters, I think there would be less bribery, and that even Mr. Artwoop could not stand persuading electors too often. I stand by you respectfully, and am ready to adopt any peaceful and constitutional line of agitation which you'shall think advisable. . : . “Tf Lorp Joun Russe11 will not come with us, I can conceive (with infinite pain) the possibility of doing without him. I had rather have bribery decreased than Lorp Jonn Russet at the head of affairs. I had rather that landlords should cease to bully, even, than that Lorp Joun should continue to be our chief. I can fancy that the world will go on even without him, and that the machine will not fall to pieces although this prodigious little pin be withdrawn. Let it have acoronet, gilt on its head, and be stuck in a cushion in the House of Lords. “T can even go some length with Mr. Cozpen in his dangerous speech about the barbarous splendour surrounding the Crown. It is not the money, as some people object, so much as the sentiment. It will make very little difference to any man in England whether there is a silver stick or groom of the dust-pan more or less in the service of the Court, of which we all admire the modest English merits. But there are barbarous splendours about the precincts of Pimlico, that are ridiculous and immoral, rather than costly, against which Mz. CoppEn has a right to cry out. Who could not name a score such ? “It is very well for Lorp Joun to cry out and say that the British people love their QuEEN, that they will not grudge her any of the state which belongs to her dignity, that she is a model of private virtue, and that to meddle with her privileges is to meddle with the Constitution. What is the Constitution, my dear Sir, d’abord? If the Constitution of to-day is the Constitution of the Paince Recent’s time, every gentleman connected with this periodical would have passed years in gaol, as Mr. LericH Hunt did. Good Laws! how have we ridiculed a certain august hat, for instance; not because we are disloyal, but because the object was laughworthy. In QuEEN ANNE’s reign, we should have had our ears cut off; by QurEN Exizazern, we should have been hanged without any mercy, and all under the exercise of the same Constitution. The Constitution roasted us indifferently for being Catholies or Protestants. If the Constitution is at the head of the nation, it is not Brirannia’s helmet, as it were, but her hair: it renews itself per- py: it is cut off and grows again, and is curled in a thousand ashions—fashions is the word—the Constitution is the political fashion. The country may wear what she likes—ringlets, or powder and a tail, or a Madonna bandeau, or a Brutus crop. “And as for insinuating that a man is disrespectful to his QuEEN because he wishes to alter some of the‘present appurtenances of Royalty, I take the liberty to deny that charge with indignation. For instance, I love and respect my grandmother; but suppose she took it into her head to walk in the Park with a hoop and falbalas, and the second head- dress above described, should we not have a right to remonstrate with the venerable lady? Cospen has a right to look at the Court and say that many parts of it are barbarous and foolish. Beef-eaters are barbarous. Court-Circulars are barbarous. Gentlemen-Pensioners are barbarous. Jones with a black-satin | em to Court with his sword between his legs, is barbarous. My old friend JEames, with his stick and bouquet, is aneminent and absurd barbarian. I hope to see them all sacrificed ; and as for poor Jeames, I am like Mircuet and Lorp CLARENDON, and exclaim, ‘ Either you or I must die, JEames.’ “The day after the Drawing-Room, as I was walking down Pall Mall, (with CoLoneL BiucHER and young HicH ows, a relation of WELLING- ToN’s, byjthe way), the Lord Mayor’s coach passed down the astonished street, escorted by policemen, his Lordship, and the man who wears the muff, being inside; the Court of dermen and the Common Council, with Nase gowns, following their Chief in various cabs, broughams, and other vehicles. “When the hideous, monstrous, creaking, tumbling, lumbering old trap was built, in which his Lordship was seated, it was made after the fashion of the times, when people liked to travel slow, and was no doubt the best vehicle of a large sort which could be manufactured. Since then, railroads have learned to travel seventy miles an hour, and there’s not a dustman’s cart that doesn’t go better than the wretched old mammoth coach, with its huge, old ugly, clumsy, costly machinery, containing a magistrature jot as ow clumsy, and out of date. The little civilised boys in Pall Mall ‘larked’ the Lord Mayor and his friend in the muff; the street-sweeper looked at him with scorn, and the Policemen marched with downcast faces as the carriage rumbled into the City, stopping up the way, annoying the passengers, interrupting the traffic, and occasioning the general discomfort. “ Suppose the House of Commons had a ymingenst and should pro- pose the'civic rattle-trap should be abolished, or a new and more’commo- dious carriage"provided for the Lord Mayor. But my Lorp Joun replies * Beware of Republicanism. Dangerous innovations are being practised everywhere. ‘The people, it is my firm belief, are satisfied with their _—— institutions; and I have the;happiness of thinking that the rd and Lady Mayoress) are the most excellent persons in their private capacity, and their private virtues exalt their lofty station. (Hear). Her Ladyship attends to the household duties; never break- fasts in bed; looks to the tradesmen’s books and the housekeeping ; sees the children in the nursery, and walks out with her ladies of honour, in the pleasure-grounds of Billingsgate or Bunhill Row. His Lordship has prayers in the morning ; does Justice business all day ; dispenses hos- itality in the evening ; but is never more than half-an-hour away from the adies over his wine. (Immense cheers, in which Mr. Hupson and Mr. BRoTHERTON joiz). And this being the case, what follows? Why, the consequence is obvious; they are virtuous, therefore they oughtn’t to have a new coach. The old one has borne for two hundred years the bottle and the breeze. It rolls, and as it rolls, for ever will ;roll on.’ (Immense cheers), “Tt was exactly the ant, net in France by other little statesmen and ministers of a moral monarch. ‘Louis-PHILLPPE is a model husband fand father; therefore don’t let us have any more reforms. Who dares say that this monarch does not sympathise with the country, when it is known that he takes tea and plays his rubber in the bosom of his family like the ——“¥ bourgeois? What can the people want with public meetings, when the king sleeps on a straw mattress, and is a pattern of domestic propriety? Reforms, forsooth ! Haven’t we a Chamber, and an immense majority ?’ This was the argu- ment up to the,twenty-third’day of last February ; but it had ceased to be very cogent on the twenty-fifth, when majority, monarch, and ministers had all disappeared from the scene. “And this point being, rather brutally, disposed of, there comes another argument, which people are very fond of putting, and is used by your Conservatives and Whigs with a triumphant air. ‘Yes; they have got rid; of their monarch and ministers,’ says Lornp JoHNNyY or Lorp Tommy; ‘but what have they taken in exchange? A howling democracy ; ‘a furious tyranny of 500,000 bayonets ; aruined Exchequer ; a csileed bankruptcy ; a general cessation of labour; and conspiracy to organise famine. Does not every man of sense prefer the moderate liberty of Louis-Puitirre to the monstrous licentiousness, and the con- stant danger and terror of the present period ? Would you have wild revolutionists yelling in London streets, and clubs and muskets governing the House of Representation?’ The meaning of which is, that it is better that a man should forego his undoubted rights for the sake of peace and quiet, than that he should bestir and endanger himself to gain them. “But in this case Mr. Bancrort would never have been here as American Minister, that is clear; and the American colonies would be still paying their ‘tax upon tea. We might still have had Stewarts on the throne, chopping {off heads of Lorp Russetis for treason. The cause for which Hamppen and Srpney still occasionally perish after dinner, in those weak assemblies where the Whigs muster, was a rank rebellion; and Mr. Barry should design a Star Chamber in the new Houses of Parliament, where the dandy dealers in middle-age gimcracks were afraid to set up CRoMwELL. Of course, no revolution is good for trade. People can’t do two things at a time. Tt is impossible at once to work at a stocking-loom and in ariot. But who is the cause of the riot? What was it that brought Lovis-Puitipre smirking over the barricades of July, when all danger was over, and put him into a cab, and sent him out of the Paris gates in February? What was it that brought Lorp Jou into office in ’32, and will send him out before many months are over? He can’t stop, and keep all the world waiting behind him. He is at the head of the column, and must march with it, or shirk out of the rank and let it pass by, cr stand and let it march over him. “In a country where there is a Press, Railroads, and Free Discussion, VOL, XIV.

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| 208 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL there is no need to have a fight at all There must be two parties to fight; and the weaker one, which would lose most by the battle too, never will. And they may talk of a good cause as inspiriting a man to battle; but what can be more inspiriting than to know not only that wewd cause is good, but that your enemy is sure to run away without ghtin “Tt : to this I look, this which brings me. with ardour to your ranks and this prophecy, which I beseech you to remember in the hour of victory.” ELABORATE ENGRAVING TO BE PRESENTED TO THE SUBSCRIBERS TO THE ART-UNION. BROUGHAM ON LAW, AND PUNCH ON BROUGHAM, Our noble friend has turned hack to the old paths, along which he marched to reputation, the slippery ways of Law Reform, beset with | | pit-falls, and vege with all manner of man-traps and spring-guns. | We congratulate our noble friend on this return to his great and fer | from finished work. We place at our noble friend’s disposal the fol- lowing comments on his excellent speech of Friday last, and thus play | Coke to his Littleton. B. on Acts of Parliament.—“The persons who draw up Acts of | oe should always use the plainest language.” . on B.— “Not so: for they would often thereby disclose the | plainess, want of meaning.’ B.— They should never use any word, the meaning of which _ * well-defined.” —“Not so: for thereby they would continually be left without | “~, pe to use.’ — They ought never to use the same word i in two senses; they | should never use two words in the same sense.’ P.—True. Moreover, they should never use any word, or wad words, with no sense whatever. B.—* They should never refer in any one Act of Parliament to any | other Act, but always state in the same Act what they meant.” P.—*This were well : also, that when they meant nothing by any Ae they should state the same.’ B.—‘Tn the enacting clauses of the Poor Law Amendment Act, the | changes were so rung upon the verb ‘to be,’ which was sometimes ‘are,’ sometimes ‘ shall be,’ sometimes ‘may be,’ and sometimes * shall have be been,’ that the unhappy judges were perfectly bewildered.” “herein doth such verb resemble Lorp B, himself, who hath | so often rung all manner of changes on his opinions, that the best | judges are as much bewildered thereby as ever they were by any Act of Parliament whatever.’ B. on the Marriage Law.—“ Tn consequence of the conflict of laws on| marriage, many a man in England was unable to tell whether in the eye | of the law he was married or single, legitimate or illegitimate. Some | | of the ornaments of their Lc ordships’ House were in that predicament.” P. “ Perchance, by doing away with this uncertainty, would these | ornaments of their Lordships’ House be made wise ; for thereby might | they know concerning their fathers, and ‘It is a wise: child that knoweth its own father.’ ’ B.— He knew a conveyancer of large practice, whose inefficiency was not discovered till long after his death, when the consequences proved fatal to the peace and prosperity of many families.” —“Therein was the conveyancer luckier than many statesmen in large eo whose inefficiency is discovered long before their deaths, a who Og ape are allowed to practise, notwithstanding.” He knew a solicitor who died, and whose papers were all cut up o tailors’ measures after his decease.” — “Therein did the said solicitor differ from a Minister, whose measures are often cut up in the papers, before it.” B—*“To make two wills was unsatisfactory,” P.— How unsatisfactory must, therefore, have been the life of Lorp B., who hath so often changed his will, that he has now no one opinion, ‘ whereof the memory of man runneth not to the contrary.’ ’ With these comments P. leaves B., with a hearty congratulation, on seeing him again at a work which he ought never to have abandoned. A SHORT CUT TO PROSPERITY. Ovr attached Judy has had addressed to her an appeal of the Not- tingham stocking manufacturers, which, at her request, we present to our lady readers. It opens respectfully. ‘‘ MapaM,—Having seen it stated in the public papers that you are using your influence, in conjunction with others, to promote and encourage, by your own example, the use of articles of British manufacture in dress, I venture respectfully to call your attention to that of stockings.” Under other circumstances, we should be prepared to resent this calling attention to any part of the dress of Mrs. P. But patriotism is |paramount to delicacy. The letter proceeds, however, to still more gerous ground. ** You and others with whom you are associated in this generous effort for the goed | of others, are probably little aware of the very serious injury which has been inflicted on | this branch of trade, by the fashion some time since adopted by ladies, of wearing long | dresses.’? Here we must draw the line. We cannot permit this. Mrs. P. does | wear her crinoline of the most decorous dimensions, and we cannot give way a single inch. Mrs. P. is prepared to contract our household expenditure, but not her skirts. She has no objection to wearing long stockings, but it must be with still longer dresses. She will thus be “doing good by stealth.” Were her robes shorter, she would “ blush to find it fame.” She would gladly go any lengths to aid the stockingers, | but positively declines to go. the scantiness demanded of her. With | this assurance she begs to -cut short the dangerous proposition of the | Nott ingham manufacturers. | } | | Questions for Circulation among the Candidates for Teacherships. Ir is an admitted fact, that a knowledge of error is one of the nearest ways to truth; and it stands to reason, therefore, that the best way to teach a person fact, is to begin by cramming him with the reverse of fact, in any quantity he can be induced to swallow. With | this view we have prepared a few queries, which come under the useful | head of “ What to Avoid” in the way of information :— Q Who invented cider. . Mr. Perry. . Where is the milk of human kindness to be found in the greatest | Persea P A, Not within the pail of society. Q. Are cigars an English invention ? A. No! the cigar is a Spanish article, that has been merely cab- | baged by the British manufacturer. A BAD BUSINESS. | A Gentleman of our acquaintance has asked our advice on the sub- ject of his pecuniary affairs, which he says have become so deranged that all his liabilities have gone out of his mind. | | A New Movement Party. We have seen, in the columns of a contemporary, an advertisement commencing with the strange words, “Oxp Featuer Beps Re- DRESSED.” The idea of getting upa movement to redress old Feather | Beds, whose grievances or wrongs cannot lie very heavily upon them, is a needless excess of ultra liberality. Surely the old Feather Beds ought | to be downy enough to redress themselves. ——e

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ASTRAL LITERATURE. [A ~HE readers of Punch ) { may not be generally || .aware that there is “ published in America the Sidereal Journal, which is of course devoted, as its name implies, to the stars. We have not seen a a Number of the pub- < lication, but we can fancy its contents very easily. There is, no doubt, the celebrated second column, in- viting some missing star to return to his circle of disconsolate satellites, and undertaking that if he will only come back in a twinkling, every- - shall be forgotten and forgiven. e dare say the Sidereal Journal contains an advertisement that the Band of Orion will attend quadrille parties on reasonable terms, and that the Great Bear is to be seen alive at a very small charge, as usual. There will, of course, be an intimation that Saturn, in the middle of his ring, will go through his celebrated scenes in the circle; and that new milk may be had from that very extensive

milk-walk, the Milky Way, in the highest perfection, without any admixture of sky-blue, at the very lowest prices. The only wonder is, not how the paper can be filled with matter referring to the Starry World, but how room can be found for all that relates to it. We should, however, doubt whether the range of mundane subscribers can be very large, for the subjects can scarcely be very tempting to the merely terrestrial reader, unless he is one of those who love to moon over the stars, and who would be more thoroughly wrapped up in a comet’s tail, than in a story of merely sublunary interest.

THE CONVERSION OF THE ABBE) LACORDAIRE. Tue well-known preacher and friar, the Appi Lacorpatre, habited in “the weeds of Dominic,” last week made his first appearance at the new French Theatre, commonly called the National Assembly. The Holy Father, on this occasion, made a remark of singular maiveté. He declared, that “till the 24th of February he had been the advocate of Monarchy; but that he was now a Republican.”’ Verily, the AnBk dis- played a marvellous adroitness in hitting precisely the nick of time for changing his opinions. We may presume, that if he had been a Bona- a. he would have abjured Bonapartism simultaneously with APOLEON’s flight to Elba; professed Legitimism’till the Emperor’s return; resumed that creed after the Battle of Waterloo; and trans- ferred his allegiance to Lovts-PuILirre immediately on the Revolution of July. Farmer Lacorpaire must have an acute perception of the direction in which the cat jumps. In point of candour, there exists no parallel to the-avowal of the celebrated ABBi Lacorparre, except the confession of the equally celebrated Vicar of Bray. PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARLI. a newspaper called |

THE SQUEEZEABLES! ** Now, Sir, in a state of affairs so distressing, | Such serious interests so gravely depressing, The House, I am sure, Will be happy to cure The effects I’ve described, by their causes redressing, | And all shades of party at once coalescing In support of the measure, Which if ’tis the pleasure Of the House, my right hon’rable’friend on the Treasur- y Bench will at once, Sir, submit to the House ”— (In plain English, “the mountain will bring forth its mouse”). From the Treasury Bench, With a wriggle, and wrench Of papers from pockets, Lorp Bianx begs to ment- ion the objects in view of himself and his friends; “ How they scorn to look forward to mere party ends,—” How “The Bill must be carried,” How “ The people have tarried, Till their rightful demands can no longer’be*parried ; ” ow, ‘‘if Clause one fall flat, Then Clause two will come:pat, And if one don’t do ZAzs, t’other’ssure to do that—” And “how each county grants The Bill’s just what it wants, From Kent to Caernarvon, from Caithness to Hants—’”’ When an hon’rable Member jumps up in a hurry, And throws all the Squeezeables into:a flurry, By declaring “the measure’s quite odious to Surrey ‘Whereupon my Lorp BLank Is sure'he “ must thank The hon’rable Member,” and ‘lo ! :shankey-pank- ey! the Bill, all werescrambling to get, hurry-scurry, Is, we’re told, “‘notiintended,:mot just now, for Surrey.” ! Any sort oftobjection Is ground for exception ; 1 Still the game is the same, of the Squeezeable section ; Let the veriest muff | But squeeze ’em enough, | | ' 9? And they fling up their cards, betwixt humbug and huff ; Still, little by little, Go their Bills every tittle, Till, just as a Yankee a big log will “ whittle” To a splinter away, Thro’ a do-nothing day, So, with every political “‘ promise to pay,” The Squeezeables “ whittle,” to suit all fciks’ pleasures, The biggest of Bills to the meagrest of Measures. Not worth buying, so free from reproach of “ venality ;” Never holding their ground, so uncharged with “ finality ;” To please foes throwing over supporters, and then Applauding themselves, with a “ measures, not men ;” Till when spent is the Session ’twixt long-talks and leisures, We still have the “men,” but can’t get at the “‘ measures ;” And at last, tired of tumbling, from bad times to worse, JouHN Butt, hot in head, as he’s poor in the purse, Throws the Zimes down indignant, and swears, “ Please the pigs, He’|l take to close shaving and give up his W(h)igs !” Catch Them at It. Tue Executive of the Chartist “National” Assembly calls upon the masses to rush and “realise their paper securities.” This is very like an unfeeling mockery of their destitute condition; for, we should be glad to know what “ paper securities” the poor creatures have got to realise. The only approach to anything of the kind will ‘probably appear to be a number of pawnbrokers’ duplicates, and these are not always so very easily convertible. A cry calling on the people to realise this class of paper would not fall under the general head of a | command to “run for gold,” but would come rather in the shape of a direction to ‘‘run for (flat) irons.”

The Prospects of Repealers. Messrs. Sxitn O’Brren, Meacuer, Joun O'ConneEtt, and other members of the Old and Young Irish parties, have conjointly signed an Address to the Irish Repealers, containing the following remarkable, if not ominous declaration :— We have all the same bright goal in view.” Thisis a very consolatory assurance. We wish, however, that these United Irishmen had adopted the modern style of orthography, and placed the a before the o in spelling the word gaol.

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. THE POLITICAL MACHEATH. (M dhe if AN = NorHIne, since the days of Garrick between Tragedy and Comedy, or the donkey between two bundles of hay, has been half so good as BroucHam between France and England. and his heart frightfully lacerated by the British Monarchy on the one side, and the French Republic on the other. Tired of being “everything by turns and nothing long,” he is now desirous of outstripping his former achievements by becoming two things together. He would be a Peer at home and a simple Citizen abroad, at the very same moment; and in fact, he would sing, with Macheath — How happy could I be with either, If t’?other were not in the way ; But since you thus eg me together, Why, what is poor Harry to say ? He’ll sing, Vive la république, right tooral ; If you say to him “ What can you mean ?” He’ll turn with a rum tum fal looral, And break into “‘ God Save the Queen!” A PROPHETIC SPEECH FOR LORD JOHN. Mr. CospeEn’s motion being put, that all useless sinecures—such as that of Hereditary Grand Falconer — attached to the Royal Household, be abolished, with a view to the gradual reduction of expenditure— Lorn Joun Russext rose and said—Sir, never in my life have I risen to oppose a motion with greater feelings of mingled pain and pride. Of pain, that I should be called upon by any such motion—of pride, that, as I believe, I can so triumphantly defeat it. Sir, it has been said by the Hon. Member for the West Riding, that the office of Grand Falconer is one of pure expense —is) one carrying with it no (duties. This may be, Sir; but when I call to mind the fact that, although no hawks are kept in the Royal Household, the doves of conjugal affection build and nestle, as Mr. Burke finel observes, above “the proud keep of Windsor ”—(Loud cheers)—then, Sir, do say that the motion of the Hon. Gentleman, the Member for the West Riding, to abolish the sinecure of Hereditary Grand Falconer as one of useless expense—is an insidious blow levelled at the conjugal happiness of the Court—is an insult to the worth and beauty of the highest domestic existence. (Reiferated cheers), Sir, there may be a Minister bold enough to entertain such a resolution. I can only say, far be from me the ignominy of that boldness. There may be a Minister who, blind and deaf to the beauty and the music beaming and breathing from the Royal hearth, shall is feelings have been fearfully divided, | Don nevertheless destroy those fictitious hawks, shall scatter to the winds their baseless perches. can only say, Sir, I will not be that Minister. I should consider myself not only as a rebel to the Crown, but as a traitor to human nature, could I for one moment entertain the thought of abolishing the post of Grand Falconer. Sir, while virtue remains more than a name, and Magna Charta something better than blank foolscap, I—(here his Lordship strikes his hand upon a red box)—I never will do it. (His Lordship sits down amidst cheers that last for a quarter-of-an-hour.) Military Intelligence. THERE is no truth in the rumour that F. M. the Duke or WELLINGTON is about to resign his Jaton to Mr. Batre; nor is it true that the gallant Nobleman has promised to confer their majority on three Minor Sevenths belonging to the Line. The rumour originated in the Duke having arranged to act as Director of the next Ancient Concert, where it is probable he will put himself at the head of a determined and well-disciplined band, resolved on the execution of any task, however difficult, that may be assigned to them. OUR FOREIGN CORRESPONDENTS. In these days of rows and revo- lutions abroad, the foreign Cor- respondent of a newspaper must accustom himself to “feats of broil and battle.” One ‘of the gentlemen engaged for the Times begins a paragraph with the appalling words, “I am now in the centre of the Sar- dinian king’s camp;” and we fancy we can see our gallant confréere writing his “ flimsy” amid the roar of artillery, and in the absence of ordinary steel pens, scribbling away with the end of a bayonet. We have some idea of send- ing out our old friend, the Brook Green Volunteer, as a special correspondent, whose military education on the Scrubs of Weoamnaeh and whose counterscarping in the ditch that divides Hammersmith from Notting Hill, must have given him a fund of military knowledge that would be very useful to x him in his reporting capa- | city. Every foreign cor- respondent of an English newspaper ought to go eee regular course of drilling before he enters =) on his duties abroad, for ~ there is no knowing how soon he may require the qualities of a soldier; for when an excited people have once drawn the sword, they are jnot parti- . cular where they draw the line, and the penny-a-liner may be the victim of a Revolution before he can turn himself round with a view to his own safety. One of our correspondents on foreign service has taken advantage of his very soldier-like position to express a wish to retire on half-pay, by which he means that he would like to have one half of his salary for the remainder of his life, for doing nothing.

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——o| Sa =

- ———— eee Vi -

“THE HOUR AND THE MAN.” Cobden. “Now, Sir, ARE YOU GOING BY US?” Russell. “No, THANK YOU; YOU’RE TOO FAST FOR ME; I SHALL GO BY THE PARLIAMENTARY TRAIN.”

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ee eee PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 213 Tuts should be adopted as thenational cry for Germany, which, with its new habits im polities, is.desperately determined on adopting old ones in attire. f The paletot of the nineteenth century is to give way, all over Deutsch- land, to the jerkin of the fifteenth, and the chapeau Francais to the bonnet of Maxrmmtran. The: pink of fashion is henceforth to be the em doublet of Arpert Durer, and slashed hose are to cut out the umble cotton socks of modern manufacture. ¥ Germany is determined to walk into her political future in the costume of the past, and at her National Diet the eye, at least, will be fed with all the motley brilliancy of a masquerade, This may not be out of place when the Kine or Prussia comes out as a go-a-head democratic reformer, and the EMpERoR or AvsTRIA as a Progressist of the first force. At the same time, the hotch-potch of costume will make of the Frankfort Diet a sort of Potage a la JuttrennE. We beg to suggest to the Government of Berlin, the propriety of engaging Mr. Piancué to superintend the getting up of the Members, and we trust that the opposing parties in the German movement, will rest satis- fied with Fancy Balls instead of the cannon ditto, now in vogue in Posen and Schleswig. > -A DRAWING-ROOM FOR THE MILLION. Our glorious Constitution is so deeply rooted in the affections of Her Mazesty’s subjects, that certainly neither we, nor our unborn posterity, shall ever live to see the end of it. It will continue to exist by con- stantly accommodating itself to popular feeling, until at length it will have completely gained the hearts of the people at large. We have taken a long peep into futurity, and are enabled to state that, after the lapse of a century, Royalty, like our old friend the Sun, will shine on all classes alike, and, with indiscriminating condescension, will throw itself open to the homage of cue. We have cast our prophetic eye over a paper of the future day, and have therein perused an account of a Royal Drawing-Room designed for the reception of the masses. We subjoin the interesting narrative :— “H. M.’s Drawing-Room for the Industrious Classes, in manifes- tation of H. M.’s most gracious sympathy with that portion of the population, was held yesterday. “The usual arrangements respecting omnibuses going to and returning from the Palace, were made by the Lorp CHAMBERLAIN. The regu- a so relative to mats at the foot of the Grand Staircase were strictly enforced. : “ At an early hour the Baths and Washhouses of the Metropolis were thronged with industrious lieges, in obedience to the regulations of the Board of Green Cloth touching soap and water. “The following presentations took place within the Circle :— “Mr. Ficerys, Grocer, and Wife, by the Lonp CuampeRLaIn; Mr. Gos.ing, Tailor, cf the ARCHBISHOP OF CANTERBURY; Messrs. Hop- SON AND Co., Builders, by the Prime Minister; Mr. Pitts, Tanner, and Daughters, by the Commander-in-Chief; Messrs. PUMMELL AND | Son, Saddlers, by the Master of the Horse; Mr. Firt, Shoemaker, and | Wife, by the Lorp Cuaxcerion; Mr. Brevier, Printer, by Earl Marshal; Mr. Srzzz, Hardwareman, by the Minister for Foreign airs. “ Among the operatives and others next presented, and who enjoyed the distinguished honour of kissing hands, were . resses—Mnrs, Durpen, Mrs. Face, Mrs. Wane, &c. “* Sempstressess.—Miss Brown, Miss JonEs, Miss Jemima SMITH, Miss Potty Horxins, &c. &c. “ Bonnet-Makers——Miss Jackson, Miss Baker, Miss Mutts, &c. &e., &e. “ Bricklayers.—Mr. Hoxss, Mr. Stusps, Mz, WALKER, Mp. O’LzEary, Mr. Suttivay, &., &., &e., &e. “ Carpenters—Mr. Wuitt, Mx. Green, Mr, Stevens, Mz. Dozss, Mr. Atkinson, &c., &c., &c., &e., &e. “ Navvies—Mn. Stokes, Mx. Stronc, Mz. Bices, Mn. Dumper, &c., &e., &., &e., &e., &e. “Being precluded, by want of space, from giving a full account of the nies dresses, we must restrict ourselves, for the present, to notice the ollowing :— “Mrs. Durpen.—A richly flowered bombasin; pattern, red cabbage roses on a yellow ground. Mob cap. “Miss Brown.—A light blue merino dress, with plain starched collar. Head-dress, two little bows of pink ribbon. “Miss Jackson.—Black stuff apron, over brown frock of the same. Lace, black—with a tag—worn in the chaussure. _““ H. M. was in excellent health and spirits, and was evidently highly delighted to receive the good folks who came to pay their respects. The whole scene was eminent] — Tt is mainly by these réunions between the sovereign ne | the people that a feeling of attachment to the Throne has been preserved amongst us, and thus has secured to us our mild and limited monarchy; whilst a neighbouring nation, after having undergone twenty revolutions, lies crushed be: the hoof of a military despotism.” , BRITISH MANUFACTURES TRIUMPHANT. Ovr ladies have been requested to wear British Manufactures. Our smokers to smoke British cigars. Our elderly gentlewomen to make their tea with the British sloe-leaf. Our students to drink British coffee. Our pawnbrokers to advance at their highest rates on British late. Our bread-eaters to limit their appetites to British wheat. Our eef-eaters to insist on certificates that their steaks are cut from the British Bull. The proprietors of the Zoological Gardens to show none but the British Lion. The West-End houses and Clubs to emplo none but British cooks. Our merchants to deal with none but Britis customers. Our sailors to sail to none but British ports. Such are the demands of an enlightened national feeling. We rejoice to add that the demand is being generally answered by compli- ance. The consequences are most owe 3 The employment of our manufacturing labourers has fallen off one half. Manchester is paying a million less per week in wages. The Commerce of Liverpool is annihilated. . Nottingham, Derby, Salford, and Jeeds have thrown stocking- machines, Jacquard-looms, and spinning-jennies out of gear. Our old ladies are suffering from the cholic, and our hedges are bare of hawthorn leaves. , : The price of lettuces is enormously enhanced, and Havannah is reduced to chew her own tobacco. - ‘ The Pool and the Docks are filled with ships, carefully protected from the weather; and our over-wrought ors are enjoying that leisure so indispensable to the cultivation of their neglected minds. Mr. Lastask (a stout gentleman from the West of England, with an odd pronunciation of his native tongue) announces an entertainment from the works of the late T. Drspry; assisted by.Mr. Coster at the pianoforte; while Mrs. Jurta Greasy (an Irish lady of great vocal accomplishments) is singing in Zhe Beggar's Opera in the Haymarket, with young Mr. Maryow, a handsome gent., apparently of the Hebrew persuasion, with a moustache. All the infamous foreigners, the JEFFERINIS, and JonEsts, and Brxt- SMITHIs, and CoLtinsis, who so long have fattened on pickings from the British public, have disappeared from the playbills, and native talent—and nothing but native talent—is everywhere recognised. Her Magzsty, with her noble British consort, and her British rose- buds, enjoys British music from a British brass-band with singularly Teutonic physiognomies, and an inablity to pronounce the “ th.” f “Tei on parle Anglais,” is placarded in all the milliners’ windows in Oxford Street and Langham Place, and that popular British clown, AvRIOL, is alternating jokes and somersaults with Barry, at Astleys, where Miss Ann Hatog and Miss Carotize, nightly delight crowds of enthusiastic admirers of National British Sports. : French and German are no longer taught in our schools; and, in one word, we have, in the enjoyment of our own blessings, — ignored the contemptible existence of the adjacent island—of Europe—Asia— Africa, with the more distant one of North and South America. England has, in fact, cut the world. What will become of the latter ?

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. ENGLISH DEFINITIONS, FOR AN IRISH DICTIONARY. Unitep Intsomen.—Natives of Ireland, who are always quarrelling with each other, and every one else. ahi ConFEDERATES.—A political party, bent on dissolving all existing ties between Ireland and the rest of the world. Morat Force.—Brick-bats, fruit in an advanced stage of decom- | position, blazing tar-barrels, and shillelaghs. Puysicat Force.—Threatening to use pikes and rifles, and running away from them when used by others. Saxon.—Every one who receives rent from land, follows an honest calling, nage a civil tongue in his head, a whole coat on his back, and does not subscribe to Mr. MitcHEt1’s paper. Saxon Oppression.—Paying Irish debts out of English pockets, feeding Irish famine with English subscriptions, and supporting Irish labour out of English wages. TRELAND’s OpportuNnity.—Materials for a row, and no police convanient.” Ene.ann’s Dancer.—Not Mr. MitcHEtv’s bluster. Aw Iniso PARLIAMENT, SITTING ON CoLLEGE GREEN.—A convention of Kilkenny cats. Martyrpom.— Circulating 40,000 copies of your newspaper per week, and pocketing the profits. Liserty.—The absence of locks, gaols, writs, and policemen. FRATERNITY.— Encouraging men to cut each others’ throats. Equatity.—Allowing nobody to keep anything that anybody else can e from him. TRELAND FOR THE IntsH.—A counfry of quarrelling voters, unem- ployed labourers, and rifle-clubs, or in other words, electoral divisions, extension of suffering, and vote by bullet. REPEAL oF THE Union.—A people without occupation, leaders without honesty, labour without capital, turbulence without control, rashness without foresight, and wit without common sense. THE IRISH DRAGON. * Tuts ferocious brute has been recently Van Amburghised to a very considerable extent by a blow from a bill, which has told with wonder- ful effect on the monster’s savageness. He has become materially humanised in his aspect, and if he continues to mitigate his ferocity at the same rate, we may hope to see him soon wearing a perfectly civil- ised aspect, Her Majesty's Theatre. Tae Lorp CuaMBeRzatn has notified to Mr. Lumter the propriety of causing Jenny Lixp, Garpon1, Lapiacue, and in fact all the foreign singers and dancers, instantly to take out letters of naturalis- ation, as it cannot be expected that the Court will, in future, patronise any other than artists of English manufacture. THE EXETER HALL MEETINGS. May has brought round the customary period for holding meetings at Exeter Hall, where fly-loads of females from the suburbs are being set down all day, to sym- athise with the uninstructed hippewaw, and send out a few reams of tracts to the open-mouthed Yahoo, who, it is supposed, can be crammed ad libitum with good books, because he, generally speaking, is ready to swallow anything. The serious excitement season has regularly set in, and the female enthusiasts are rush- ing in swarms to hear the Reverend Mr. Lonesaw preaching on the possibility of bringing home Doctor Wartsto the bosom of the Rhapatangis. Surely the little savages who crowd our courts and alleys should have the first claim on the sympa- thies of Englishwomen. The home market is sufficiently stocked to render an expatriation of our benevolence un- necessary. We perceive that in order to enable the women to sit out the entire amount of seri- ous eloquence that is addressed to them, and to prevent the meetings from being gradually dissolved by excessive heat and fainting fits, “refreshments are to be introduced at Exeter Hall,” so that the assemblies which now last from about 10 a.m. till 5 p.w., may in future be expected to become very nearly permanent. The tea will keep the audience up to the mark, in the way of attention, until another meeting is ready to assemble, and take the place of the one that has just broken up; at as the refreshments will, of course, extend to the platform, the speeches may be expected to be double the length they have been hitherto. SSS /| Sos Foreign and Home Relations. “Waar is the meaning of ‘ diplomatic relations ?’ ” inquired a young Grey of his uncle, Sir GzorGz, upon receiving a lucrative Secretary- ship. ‘ Hush!” exclaimed the startled Home Secretary, looking round him, “ Never ask that question again. It might compromise us.” And then whispering into his nephew’s ear, he gave the following definition: “* Diplomatic relations’ mean the number of relations which our family have in all the diplomatic appointments of the country.” The last reinforcement to the strong regiment of the Greys was satisfied. RATHER CRITICAL. Ir is said that Mr. Suitn O’Brien was greatly struck by the force and cogency of the arguments used by the Moral Force men; but he complains of their mode of delivery, and has strongly recommended to them the last work on punctuation, entitled “‘ How to Stop and Where to Stop.’ Valuable Waste Paper. [ BILL DISCOUNTERS AND OTHERS.—Quantities of Waste Paper areon Sale from time to time in the parishes of St. Mary’s, Islington, and St. Luke’s. They consist of the Income-Tax returns of the inhabitants, and may possibly afford useful information to gentlemen who lend money on personal security.—Apply at the Income Tax Collectors. ht

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PUNCH’S PARLIAMENT. “LOLA MONTEZ.” Mr. Urquuant, seeing the Noble Lord the Secretary for Foreign Affairs in his place, would wish to ask him’ if he had any objection to roduce the correspondence between himself and Mr. PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 215

himself? Mr. Wenster, the respected manager of the Haymarket— not that he (Mr. H.) ever went with an order to a private box: certainly not; he always paid his money to the pit, like a true patron of the Drama, and he would fearlessly look around and ask, who in that assembly did more?—Mr. Wexster had been put to great expense by the imbecility of the Lorp CuHaMBeRLAIN (Order)—he was not out of order, and would repeat “ imbecility”*—by the-production of the piece ; and then made a considerable loser by its withdrawal. He (Mr. H.) was prepared to show that the bolero of Mrs. KrEeLey

WxBsTER, on the subject of Lola Montez ? ; CotonEL SisTHORP jumped up to order. Whilst he had a seat in that House—and he had represented the Cathedral of Lincoln for three hundred years, at least his family had, which was all the same and intended to represent it, at least so long as ,Whigs, and Chartists, and other ragamuflins, left anything in that House to re- present—where was he ?—Oh !—he remembered— Whilst he had aseat in that House he would never listen to such a question as that put by the Hon. Member for Stafford. What had that House to do with such a person as Lota Montez? What had they to do with Mr. Wesster? The woman might be a very good dancer; and Mr. Wesster, for an American, (/aughter)—he saw nothing to laugh at—for an American, might be a decent sort of individual enough; but what had an English Parliament to do with the affairs of such people ? Mr. Urqunart explained. The gallant and tre- mendous Colonel had misunderstood him. His question applied to a drama called Lola Montez, produced by Mr. Wezster at the Haymarket Theatre, and subse- quently withdrawn by order of the Lorp CuaMBERLAIN. At that Theatre— Mr. Spooner hoped that this country would escape the demon of Revolution—the travelling earthquake, he would call it—that was taking its round of the world. But when he knew that money was subscribed to buy an actor and a play-writer’s house, that had much better been pulled down, the foundations turned up by the plough, and the land.sowed with salt—when he knew that Royalty itself, and the Aristocracy, nay, even the Bishops of this country, had subscribed for such an unhallowed purpose, he would—he must—he could not do otherwise—than take upon himself to tremble for the solidity of the | empire. _Lorp PALMERSTON said he would take time to con- sider whether he would produce the correspondence alluded to by the Hon. Member for Stafford. Perhaps he would, perhaps he would not. He had no real objection to do either one thing or the other, or both; or, as he had intimated before, neither. Mr. Disraxzut observed that the Right Hon. Secretary | for Foreign Affairs, like the oracles of old, spoke in riddles. | It well became the policy of a Whig Government todo | so; they might thereupon obtain the benefit of a lucky doubt, and have an accidental reputation for wisdom not pertaining to them. (Cheers.) The Right Hon. Secretary was in one of his arbitrary moods. He seemed, in his imagination, to be playing with that ingenious instrument with which his name would especially descend to posterity-a protocol. That official piece of paper, in the hands of the Right Hon. Secretary, reminded him (Mr. D.) of the adroit:inventive age of an individual well known in London streets, who, with a single sheet of paper, would produce the form of anything. “ Now,” says that paper magician—who ought to have been a Foreign Seeretaty in Utopia (cheers and laughter)—“ now it is a chest-of drawers—-now it. is.an arm-chair—now a coalscattle—and now a lady’s fan.” There was nothing that a twist, a fold of that paper would not represent, twitched by the foolscap conjurer. In the like manner, the Right Hon. Secretary would no doubt twist and twirl the correspondence alluded to; making it now an | arm-chair, in which the Kine or Bavaria should only feel too happy to enjoy himself; now a coal-scuttle, to heap fuel upon our foreign relations (cheers); now a chest

BRITISH GARDE MOBILE. made a difference of £25 per night-in the receipts. Now, £25 per night, multiplied bysix, and. then by fifty-two —no, he must deduct Passion Week—by fifty-one, would be exactly £7650 in only one year. Here was then an evident loss to the manager of £7650! Was this to be borne? Was it not. sufficient that the highest atronage of the realm should be vouchsafed to the oreigner; but must the English manager—our own manufacture—be thus unjustly made a loser ? Str Greorce Grey asked if they were to permit the stage to be a school for Chartism! Was the Haymarket to be a theatre of ease to Kennington Common? Mr. WEBSTER, as a special constable—and he (Str Grorce) would do the manager this justice; he had particularly closed the Haymarket,on the glorious 10th, that all his actors might be sworn in—Mr. WessTER must have known that crowned heads.were not matters to be played with. It might be said,—the CuHaMBERLAIN read the piece (or was supposed to read it) before it was acted. That was purely a constitutional fiction. No nobleman could be induced to take the office, if hampered with the objection of either reading an English play or seeing one. For his own part, he was very sorry that Mr. Wesster had lost by the omisSion of Mrs, KEELEy’s bolero, or fandango, or whatever it was. But couldn’t it be introduced in anything else ? Of course it could ; and therefore the Hon. Member for Montrose was not justified in attacking the House on the weak side of its sympathy. (J/ear.) There was good reason—so much he would say—for the withdrawal of Lola Montez. The Bavarian Ambassador had applied for his passport—a cab was at the door—and his carpet-bag in the passage ! Mr. W. J. Fox observed that he was not appalled even by the frightful picture of threatened war, painted and conveyed by the Right Hon. Baronet, in a passport —a cab—and a carpet-bag. (Cheers.) For his own part, he would have a theatre—emphatically a royal theatre ; wherein all the Crowned Heads of the world might be represented, for at once the warning and the edification of themselves and the English public. He thought they would be all the better if their Ambassadors could thus transmit to their several employers the opinions held of them in this country. He looked upon the appoint- ment of a theatrical censor in the person of the Lorp CHAMBERLAIN as tyrannous and unconstitutional. It was a joke to write up—as had been written—over the playhouse proscenium veluti in speculum, when the wand of the Lorp CHAMBERLAIN, by cracking the glass, might give to its representations any falsity of distortion. (Cheers.) Mr. Urqunart begged, in conclusion, to move for a return of “All Correspondence in the matter of Zola Montez, a piece at the Haymarket Theatre. Wherefore the piece was licensed—wherefore withdrawn—with the various letters of the Bavarian Ambassador, Lorp Pa1- MERSTON, Mr. Wester, Mr. TinBury, and Mr. Carter, treasurer, on the subject ?””— Ordered.

WHACK, ROW DE DOW! Sucu ought to be the motto of the United Irishman, after the rupture that has. taken place among the heads of the Repealers, which has ended in a fracture of the crown of the descendant of Kixe Brien Boroume. The

of —. =_ up in di — I~ its own secrets (laughter); and now a *s to “brain” even the Hon. and gallant Member for Lincoln. wage Mr. Hume observed that the Hon. Member for Buckinghamshire had, as usual, made a very flashy speech; but it had the old misfortune of that gentleman’s orations; it left the matter exactly where it was. (Irontcal cheers.) He (Mr. H.) wanted to know by what right the Lorp CHawBer3aty, having licensed Lola Montez (laughter) for the Haymarket, called back his permission. Did not that functionary know

his own mind? Was the chief of Her Masesry’s household to stultify unfortunate SmitH O’Brien found his Limerick allies | most awkwardly anxious to get Smirn’s work done in a very comple'e manner. The most extraordinary part of the business is, that though the hero of Physical Force has got a tremendous gash on his temple, and an incision over his eye, he still persists in saying that he is resolved to present an unbroken front to the enemy. This cannot be achieved in the present state of his skin; but after some sticking plaister has given in its adhesion, and healed the breach now existing in the heads of the Repeal leaders, their resolution to present.an unbro<en front to the foe may be carried out successiully.

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. A VISIT TO JENNY LIND. BEFORE THE SQUEEZE, AFTER THE SQUEEZE, A PRESIDENT’S CALL TO ORDER. ' Tue Legislature of France is making noise enough in Europe, but much more noise than enough within its own walls. According to the Times, after a protracted scene of yelling, shout- ing, screaming, and scrambling for the tribune in the French National Assembly, the Pre- sident, with a tone of despairing wretchedness, exclaimed, “ Hx verité, en verité, citoyens, nous donnons un spectacle peu digne.” Nobody will dispute the justice of the remark. Really, the poor President ought to be furnished with some effectual means of enforcing order in the As- sembly. At present he is merely provided with a bell, which may serve very well to give an inti- mation of muffins, but is wholly insufficient for proclaiming silence, and quelling the hullaballoo of more than five hundred persons, each endeavour- ing to put down the other by clamour. A good steam whistle should be placed at his command ; or, what would be better, a gigantic watchman’s rattle, to be set in action, when necessary, by the same tremendous agent. A contrivance which would prevent the whole body from being heard together, would perhaps have the effect of in- ducing its Members to allow themselves to be heard in their turns. That is, if any mortal power could procure peace among these up- roarious senators; but we fear that nobody the attribute—could effect that very desirable object. Farture anp Fustran.—A morning contem- porary states that a firm at Manchester, extensive manufacturers of fustian, have stopped payment. We believe that this catastrophe was occasioned by the recent failure in Ireland of MITCHELL AND Co., the well-known dealers in the same article. THE MODEL BABY. T is the image of its father, unless it is the very picture of its mother. It is the best tempered little thing in the world, never crying but in the middle of the night, or scream- ing but when it is being washed. It is astonishing how quiet it is whilst . feeding. It understands everything, and proves its love for learning by tearing the leaves out of every book, and grasping with both hands at the engravings. It is the cleverest child that was ever born, and says “papa,” or something very like it, when scarcely a month old. It takes early to pulling whiskers, preferring those of strangers. It has only one * complaint, and that is the wind; but it is frequently troubled with it. It is the most wonderful child that was ever seen, and would swallow both its tiny fists, if it ’ was not for a habit of choking. It dislikes leaving home, rarely stopping on a visit longer than a day. It has a strange hostility for its nurse’s caps and nose, which it will clutch and hold with savage tenacity, if in the least offended. It is never happy but in its mother’s arms, especially if it is being nursed by a gentleman. It prefers the floor to the cradle, which it never stops in longer than it can help. It is very playful, delighting in pulling the table-cloth off, or knocking the china ornaments off the mantelpiece, or upsetting its food on somebody’s lap. It invents a new language of its own, almost before it can speak, which is perfectly intelligible to its parents, though Greek to every one else. It 1s not fond of public entertainments, invariably crying before it has been at one five minutes. It dislikes treachery in any shape, and repels the spoonful of sugar if it fancies there is a powder at the bottom of it. Medicine is its greatest horror, next to cold water. It has no particular love for dress, generally tearing to pieces any handsome piece of finery, lace especially, as soon as it is put on. It inquires deeply into every- thing, and is very penetrating in the construction of a the economy of a work-box, or the anatomy of a doll, which it likes all the better without any head or arms. It has an intuitive hatred of a doctor, and fights with all its legs, and hands, and first teeth, against his endearments. It has a most extraordinary taste for colours, imbibing them greedily in every shape, more especially from the wooden tenants d. | of Noan’s Ark, which are to be found in the mouth of every baby. In fact, there never was a child like it, and the Model Baby proves this by surviving the thousand-and-one experiments of rival grannies and mothers-in-law, and outliving, to the athletic age of kilts and bare legs, the villanous compounds of Goprrey and Day, and the whole poison- chest of Elixirs, Carminatives, Cordials, and Pills, which babies are physically heir to. RULES FOR THE FRENCH NATIONAL ASSEMBLY. LIBERTY, FRATERNITY, EQUALITY. Tue Republic demands that the Members of the National Assembly shall don on their dignity—the dignity of France. It therefore requires that they shall not jump upon their benches. 2 J he Republic recognises the necessity of manners. Accordingly, it ordains that no Citizen shall interrupt another while spe , The voice of the people must be heard in the National Assembly. This will be impossible, unless Members speak in succession. The Republic on this account decrees that no two Citizens shall make their speeches simultaneously. The Republic also recommends Citizens not to shout from their seats whilst any Citizen is rushing to the tribune. The Republic owns the supremacy of business; and desires Citizen Members not to interrupt it by altercation. DAY OF THE BARRACK-AIDS. € Mr. W.S. O’Brien, (late “Monarch of Irish Hearts ””) Since his preservation by the military at Limerick, has created himself “ Monarch of the Barrack-aids.” — (Oh! very desperate). Printed by William Bradbury, of No. 6, York Place, Stoke Newington, and Frederick Mullett Dane of No. iy Chureh Row, Stoke Newington, both in the County of Middlesex, rae, of their Office, in Lombard Street, in the Precinct of Whitefriars, in the City of ag ‘a lished by them, at No. 85, Fleet Street, in the Parish ef St. Bride, in the City of don.— Sarunpar, Mar 20th, 1848. but Jupiter Tonans—in the strongest sense of |

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 217 MR. SNOB’S REMONSTRANCE WITH MR. SMITH. “My Dear SuitH,— WHEN we last met at the Polyanthus Club, you showed me so remark- ably cold ashoulder, that I was hurt by your change of behaviour, and inquired the cause of the alteration. You are a kind and excel- lent friend, and used to tip me, when I was a boy at school ; and I was glad to find that you had public and not private causes for your diminished cordiality. Jones imparted to me your opinion that a previous letter of 7 mine in this periodical 'was of so dangerous and disloyal a character, that honest men should avoid the author. He takes leave to exculpate himself through the same medium. _ “ All our difference, my dear Sir, is as to the method of displaying loyalty. Without fulsome professions for the virtuous and excellent young matron and lady who fills the Throne now a-days, one may feel that those private virtues and excellencies are amongst her noblest titles of honour, and, without in the least implicating the royal personage seated in it, quarrel with the taste of some of the ornaments of the Throne. I do believe that some of these are barbarous, that they often put the occupant of that august seat in a false and ridiculous position, and that it would be greatly to the advantage of her dignity if they were away- “ You recollect our talk at the Polyanthus, relative to the private letters which passed between Louis-Puitirre and the Sovereign of this country, which the present French Government has thought fit to republish. ‘Why,’ said you, ‘did they condescend to make public these private letters ? What could it matter to Europe to know whether, in the Ne from Dover to Calais, ‘my poor MonTPEnsIzR’ was dreadfully sick, and the king did not suffer at all?’ Royal families must have their talk and gossip, like any other domestic circles. Why placard the town with this harmless private gossip, and drag innocent people into ublicity? And indeed, with the exception of that pretty letter to the rincess Royal, (in which her ‘old cousin’, Lovis-PHILIPPE announces to her his present of a doll with six-and-twenty suits of clothes, and exhibits himself very amiably and artlessly for once, as a kind-hearted old grandfather and gentleman,) it is a pity that the whole correspond- ence were not consigned to the bottom of that ocean which made ‘ my poor MonTPENSIER’ so unwell. “ But if the privacy of Royalty is not to be intruded upon, why is it perpetually thrust in our faces? Why is that Court Newsman not stifled? I say that individual is one of the barbarous adjuncts of the Crown, whom we ought to abolish, and whom it is an honest man’s duty to hoot off the stage. I say it is monstrous, immodest, unseemly, that in our time such details should occupy great columns of the news- papers, as that of a Royal Christening, for instance, which appeared the other day, in which you read as follows— ***His Royat HicHness THE Prince oF WALeEs was dressed in sky-blue velvet, embroidered with gold. The dress of Prince ALFRED was of white and silver, and the three Princesses were all dressed alike in frocks of British lace, in imitation of Mechlin lace, with flounces of the same over white satin. *** His Royat Hicuness Prince ALBert and the Duke or WELLINGTON were habited in the uniform of Field-Marshals; the Prinee wore the collars of the Garter and the Bath, and the ensigns of the Golden Fleece. “* The Royal infant was dressed in a robe of Honiton lace over white satin, and was attended by the Dowacrer Lapy Lytretton. Her Royal Highness was carried by the head nurse.’ “ Gracious Goodness ! is it bringing ridicule on the Throne to say that such details as these are ridiculous? Does it add to the dignity of the reatest persons in this country that other citizens should told that RINCE ALFRED wore white and silver, and the little Princesses were all dressed alike in frocks of British lace, in imitation of Mechlin, with flounces of the same, over white satin? Suppose their Royal High- nesses wore their frocks inside out, what the deuce does it matter to us? These details may interest Mr. ManTALINI, but not men in England. They should not be put before us. Why do we still laugh at people for kissing the i al toe, or applaud Macartyey’s British spirit, in the last age, for refusing kotoo to the Emperor or Cuina? his is just as bad as kotoo. Those people degrade the Throne who do not remove from it these degrading Middle-Age ceremonials—as barbarous, as absurd, as unreasonable as QuFEN QuasHyMABoo’s cocked-hat and epaulets, or Kine Mumso-Jumpo’s glass beads and tinsel. “When the procession of the sponsors and Her Masesty’s pro cession had passed, and the QuEEN and the other Royal personages were conducted to their seats, the following corale was performed— such a corale as was seldom presented to an infant before :— , *In life’s . By sin and folly is —— — O, may the Maker's glorious name Be on thy infant mind engraved ! So shall no shade of sorrow cloud The sunshine of thy early days, But happiness, in endless round, Shall still encompass all thy ways.’ “ Now, Mr. Satu, on your honour and conscience, does the publica- tion of stuff like this add to, or diminish the splendour of the Throne ? Is it true that if, in ‘the morning of youth,’ the Princess is brought up piously, she is sure of endless happiness to ‘encompass all her ways.’ ho says so? Who believes it? Does it add to your respect for the Head of the State, to represent Her Masesry to your imagination sur- rounded by Bishops, Marshals, and Knights in their collars, Gold Sticks, Sponsor-proxies, and what not, seated in the place of Divine Worship listening to such inane verses? No; the disrespect is not on our side who protest. No; the disloyalty is with those who acquiesce in cere- monies so monstrous and so vain. O Archbishop, is this the way wy should renounce the poe and vanities of this wicked world ? it is these ceremonies which set more people against you and your aa i? all your sermons can convince, or your good example keep ai 3 “And I say that we are, Mr. Punch and all, a loyal and affectionate ople, and that we exult when we see the great personages of the Crown worthily occupied. Take the meeting of last Thursday, for instance, for the Improvement of the Labouring Classes, at which His Royat Hicuness THE Prince attended and spoke. * Depend upon it that the interests of often contrasted classes are identical, and it is only ignorance which prevents their uniting to the advantage of each other. (Cheers.) To dispel that ignorance, and to show how man can help man, notwithstanding the com- plicated state of civilized society, ought to be the aim of every ———— person. (Loud cheers.) This is more peculiarly the duty of those who, under the blessing of Divine Providence, enjoy station, wealth, and education.’ (Cheers.) ‘“* Every man who heard that, I say, cheered with all his heart. ‘These are imperial words, and worthy kings.’ There is no Gold Stick in this empire, no Vice-Chamberlain, Groom of the Stole, Hereditary Grand Dancing Master or Quarterly Waiter in Waiting, that will yield to Mr. Punch and your humble servant in loyalty, when words such as these are spoken, and in such a spirit: and it is in tasks like these that Princes must busy themselves if in our times they ask for loyalty from others or security for themselves. The hold of the great upon us now is by beneficence, not by claptraps and ceremonies. The people is and knows itself to be the stronger. Wisdom, simplicity, affection, must be the guardians of the English Throne; and, may God keep those Gentlemen-ushers about the Court of Quezn Victoria ! FAST CLERGYMEN. y a recent debate in the House of Commons, on Ca- thedrals and Collegiate Churches, we find that a “Fast Man” has become a very necessary instrument in the hands of a clerical plu- ralist. The rate at which it is necessary to run through a number of Dye one sO as to givea regular church-ser- vice—sermon included — at each, has introduced a num- ber of literally flying par- sons, who are capable of riding thirty miles an hour, tting through the duty in orty minutes, allowing eight for an original discourse, and officiating at seven different places in the course of a single Sunday. e shall expect to see our sporting contemporary, Bell’s Life in Lon- don, full of advertisements from “ the REVEREND JoE Banks, the Cleri- cal Stunner,” or “ EpHRamm SMooTHFACE, the Protestant Stag,” under- taking to back themselves to ride fifty miles, preach four sermons, read prayers six times, and marry twenty couple within ten hours, allowing one for refreshment and stoppages. If the “Fast” system is con- tinued in the Church, it will be advisable for every candidate for holy orders to show his skill, not only in getting over the Pons asinorum, but also in the mounting eguorum; and the scholastic curriculum will not be more indispensable than a course in the ring at Astley’s, or some other riding-school. ‘The curate of St. Peter’s will have to qualify : in the same way as the courier of St. Petersburg, and he may expect to come galloping into his village six-in-hand, with his legs bestride on the necks of his chargers. —=— Rather Superfluous. Tue Bishops dined in the Mansion House on Tuesday, the 16th. We are informed in the next paragraph that the entertainments con- sisted “of the greatest delicacies of the season.” We think this is being a little too particular; but penny-a-liners never will leave anything to the imagination of the reader. VOL, XIV

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| means you have generally 10 good c THE LADIES’ ART OF BETTING. Do not bet for money. It is vulgar, and was never meant to cross anything but a gipsey’s hand. But gloves are open to you, and you are at liberty to bet as many pair as you like. You can do this very pleasantly over your chicken and champagne; and the betting is not attended with any great risk, as you might foolishly imagine, for it stands to reason, that if you lose, you do not pay ; and if you win, you are provide with gloves all the year round. Beware of defaulters, however ; and do not bet with any gentleman who has not paid his last year’s losses, or who is mean enough to remind you of your own. Do not back the favourite, but take the entire field, by which is meant all the other horses, and not the race-course before you, as you might — imagine; and by this ances to 1 bad one. Always etipulate for French kid, if you win—for Houbigants, if you can— as we once knew a young gentleman send a lady a dozen pair which looked uncommonly like dog’s-skin; but then he was only a clerk in Somerset House. If your better is a very nice fellow, you can give him one of your gioves as a specimen, to treasure as a keepsake. . There is no TATTERSALL’s for ladies’ where they can post their defaulters; but it is usual to do it at the very first quadrille or polka party they meet at afterthe Derby. Try ag tm requesting the address of his gantier ; if he takes no notice of this hint, then you are perfectly warranted in calling him ever afterwards a “shabby fellow,” or even “a blackleg,” if you like, and in being always engaged “six deep” when he asks you to dance. By common attendance to the above rules of betting, a young lady may find herself in gloves for every Horticultural, Floricultural, and Botanical féte during the season, at the very smallest possible cost. “CLUB DES FEMMES.” Ata time when the gentlemen of France are asserting the “ Rights of Man,” no wonder the ladies are protesting against the “ Wrongs of | Woman.” Amongst the many Clubs, which the temporary triumph | of Ciub-law has engendered in Paris, there was lately opened a “C/ud | des Femmes.” At its first sitting much confusion was created by the | criticisms of a number of the Lords of the Creation, who had intruded | themselves upon the assemblage. This is unfair. What would be the| ‘ 4 result if a corps of ladies was let loose to criticise the House of Com- | mons? The “ Club des Femmes” has promulgated the following CODE OF RIGHTS. | . Woman naturally is superior to man. The rule of the husband by the wife is in the order of nature. . The wife is the natural guardian of her husband’s secrets. . a Sg wife belongs the absolute control of her own milliners’ | ils, | . The extreme age of woman is thirty years. She may be below} this age, but cannot pass beyond it. . Woman has a right to heropinions. It isan odious tyranny which enforces the reasons of them. or ox > CODE OF DUTIES. 1. It is the duty of the woman to insist on her own way. This duty is paramount. The end justifies the means. 2. It is the duty of the wife to love and honour her husband. The word “ obey ” is abolished except as a duty of husbands. 3. It is the duty of every woman to set off those advantages with which Nature has provided her. Dress is thus invested with the sanctity of a religious observance. 4. The human species is the only one which clothes itself, amuses itself, and cooks its food. Woman, as the highest being in the scale of the human species, has exclusive sovereignty in the three domains of—the Table, the Toilet, and Society. PROJECTS OF LAWS. ._ A law rendering it penal in husbands to grumble at cold meat. -.A law imposing various terms of imprisonment on the husband who complains of a deficiency of shirt-buttons, struggles for the wre PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. last word, or exhibits impatience while his wife is dressing. 3. A law to constitute and punish the offence of /éze-marriage, or conjugal treason—of which shall be adjudged guilty, a. Every husband found in possession of a latch-key, without written permission of his wife : 4. Every husband bringing home friends to dinner, without a notice of at least twenty-four hours, and an adjudication thereon by the proper authority : c. Every husband paying attention to any other‘woman in the presence of his wife: d, Every husband convicted of smoking, unless ‘when the wife smokes also. RAILWAY CHARGES. CHARGES on a railway for scalding yourself with a cup of tea or a basin of soup are extraordinary, but still we think they lag far behind those of the rail- way hotels. The bill is always made out on the prin- "| ciple of never seeing the visitor again. He is there- fore charged as much as his patience or his purse will bear, which is a sure plan of never inducing him to return. Our feelings towards Southampton, for instance, are anything but friendly, and the next time we visit that inhospitable town, we shall walk up and down the pier all night, or go to bed in the boiler of the engine, sooner than submit to the atrocious impositions of the railway hotels. We were in one for five minutes, during which time the we were asked at the door for “one shilling.” “What for ?” we indignantly exclaimed. “ Attend- ance, Sir, one shilling.” It is true we might have stopped all the night conversing with the same attendant for the same amount; still, we thought that fourpence a word was a trifle too dear, even to converse with a waiter at Southampton. We beg to draw up a small scale of prices, moderate too, for the general use of railway hotels. s. d. For asking to look at Bradshaw's . e ° - 10 For looking atsame . ° e ° 10 For a wax candle to read the same 1 0 Attendance ° e ° e ° ° - 10 40 _. This would do capitally for a casual visitor; but if a person slept there, immense ingenuity might be shown in the high valuation of each separate item, ever see the visitor again. The following would not be a poor specimen of its kind :— s. d. Taking off your boots . ° ° e ° - 10 Attendance, lighting you up to bed . ° oe 1 © Bed . ° ° ° © ° ° ° 36 Sheets and towels ° ° e . . oe i 6 Pair of slippers ce we : 1 0 Shaving water ° ° ° . . on OS® Breakfast, with water-cresses . ° . - 50 The Times, at ditto . e e e ° 1 0 Cleaning your boots ’ . . . . 1 O Attendance ° ° ° 6 « ° 10 Cigar, and light for the same e e . oa ® Attendance ° ° ° ° ° . asc ¥ 18 0 fast; but still the thing may be better done. We it. What extraordinary notions, by the bye, a railway hotel bill will give an antiquarian of the next century, of the dearness of provisions at the present period ! A New Devouring Element. _Yovu all know Soyer the Philanthropist, who pretends to be so full of his fellow creatures? Can you doubt it after the following? Read it, and feel “‘like goose’s flesh” all over! “SOYER’S NEW SAUCE FOR LADIES AND GENTLEMEN ! ! !” Was there ever such a cannibal? And this is the man who would waiter exchanged just three words with us, when } recollecting always that it is not very likely you will | This would not be very bad for one bed and break- | just throw out the crude nint; and railway hotel proprietors are quite clever enough to improve upon | wish to redress our society and our dinners! Why, it is regularly | setting man against wife, son against mother-in-law, pauper against beadle, boots against cook! No lady, no gentleman is safe. The aristocracy is on the verge of the sauce-boat. We denounce Soyer as the greatest 7'raiteur in England, or even Ireland; and the latter is saying, at present, an immense deal.

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 219: RAILWAY ARCHITECTURE. TxE only sort of architecture that seems to form a study among those who build for Railways, is the art of becoming, as speedily as pos- sible, the architects of their own fortunes. These gen- tlemen seem disposed, na- turally enough, to tile themselves comfortably in, but they do not display much taste in selecting the tecture for any station but their own, which they seem anxious to render as exalted as possible. The various lines of Railway accordingly present specimens of nearly every order; and the tra- veller cannot keep his ideas or his imagination within any consecutive train, for al- most every place he arrives st presents some deviation from the style of architec- [he @ | — | Shieile | ture he has just left behind him. On the late Croydon Atmospheric, for instance, the stations assume an ecclesiastico-rural shape, for they have | the outward form of village churches, though that of Mammon is the | only worship that is going on inside them. On the great lines of Rail- | way one may fancy one’s self traversing all the countries in the world | within half-an-hour, for he is very likely to encounter an old English | ticket-office, a Turkish water-tank, a Swiss engine-house, a Grecian ' goods depét, and an Italian terminus, all within the limits of fifteen | miles of railway. He may find comprised in the same space a refresh- | ment-room @ /a wigwam, and a signal-man’s watch-box built in imitation of Creopatra’s Needle, all ready threaded with the wire of the electric | telegraph. We should be glad to see the Uniformity of Practice Act | put in force with reference to the architecture of Railway buildings in | | general, and Railway stations in particular. 100 =: ty CURIOSITIES OF ECHOES. _ We have had innumerable Echoes,—affirmative and negative, Hiber- appropriate styles of archi- | yy, / | | nian and American, and otherwise. ‘The following, we think, is pretty | worthy to be added to the collection :— | . “Eighteen years since, Lawrence ended his brilliant and lucrative career. Who has | | Tisen to fill his place? And in that interval, have we not lost WiLKir, ConsranLr, &Xc. ? | Who has come forward to supply their loss? ‘lo both questions, Eco answers, ‘ Wuo ?’” | | The preceding Echo is borrowed from the Morning Chronicle of May | llth. We wonder a newspaper has never been started under the title | | of Echo, for it seems to answer better than anything: else. | _ What an amusing book might be made of ail the questions which | Echo has answered in its time? And Echo comes: to our aid, an says—“ Wouldn’t it—if beautifully illustrated, and brought out in shilling Parts? I believe you, my bo-o-o-oy ! ” Rumoured Ministerial Changes, _ Dris rumoured that Ministers intend to pass one measure of public | importance before they adjourn this Session. A remedial Bill is like. | wise to be brought forward for Ireland, previous to Parliament being prorogued. These are only rumours, but if they ane realised, they | will be the greatest Ministerial Changes that have occurred since Lorp Joun has been in power. The Powers that Be, in Paris. France is not altogether in a state of anarchy. That country still owns the authority of a sort of law, which, emanating from the various Clubs of Paris, may with propriety be described as Club-law. Mes- steuRS Barpes and Biangui appear to be Knaves of Clubs; and it is difficult to determine which is the greater knave of the two. We are happy to see that one of these Cards is taken. MR. MITCHEL AT HOME. Tue Irish intelligence of the Zimes the other day contained the pune smengiaae, by an eye-witness, of Mr, Mircuet as he appeared in Newgate :— ‘* In a small flagged court-yard stood an Irish citizen and an Irish patriot, surrounded by the pickpockets and burglars who have been committed for hideous crimes.” Really, some improved system of classification ought to be adopted in | prisons. Certainly the crimes of pickpockets and burglars are very | great; but stealing pocket-handkerchiefs and breaking open houses, | are infinitely less atrocious than instigation to wholesale massacre. owever hideous may have been the crimes of the pickpockets, those comparative innocents ought not to have been reduced to asso- ciate with the man of pikes and vitriol. As for that person, no doubt he felt comfortable enough in the society of his betters, and, under the same roof with them, found himself poe be at home, A LITTLE DINNER AT TIMMINS’S. _ Mr. and Mrs. Frrzroy Tno«mins live in Lilliput Street, that neat little street which runs at right angles with the Park and Brobdingnag Gardens. Jt is a very genteel neighbourhood, and I need not say they are of a good family. : Especially Mrs. Tors, as her mamma is always telling Mr. T. They are Suffolk people, and distantly related to the Right Honourable the Eart or Bungay. : Besides his house in Lilliput Street, Mr. Timmins has Chambers in Figtree Court, Temple, and goes the Northern Circuit. The other day, when there was a slight difference about the payment of fees between the great Parliamentary Counsel and the Solicitors, Sroxz and Pocsrrs, of Great George Street, sent the papers of the Lough Foyle and Lough Corrib Junction Railway to Mr, Fitzroy Timmins, who was so elated that he instantly purchased a couple of looking-glasses for his drawing-rooms (the front room is 16 by 12, and the back a tight but elegant apartment, 10ft. 6 by 8 ft. 4), a coral for the baby, two new dresses for Mrs. Trmmriys, and a little rosewood desk, at the Pantechnicon, for which Rosa had long been sighing, with |crumpled legs, emerald-green and gold morocco top, and drawers all over. Mrs. Timmins is a very pretty poetess (her “Lines to a Faded Tulip,” and her “ Plaint of Plinlimmon,” appeared in one of last year’s Keepsakes), and Fitzroy, as he impressed a kiss on the snowy forehead of his bride, pointed out to her, in one of the innumerable pockets of the desk, an elegant ruby-tipped pen, and six charming little gilt blank books, marked “‘ My Books,” which Mrs. Frrzroy might fiil, he said, (he is an Oxford man, and very polite) “ with the delightful productions of her Muse.” Besides these books, there was pink paper, paper with crimson edges, lace paper, all stamped with R.F.'T’. (Rosa Fitzroy Tim- MINS), and the hand and ba'tle-axe, the crest of the TimminsEs (and borne at Ascalon by Roapus DE ‘TIMMINS, a crusader, who is now buried in the Temple Church, next to Serseant SNooks), and yellow, pink, light- blue, and other scented sealing-waxes, at the service of Rosa when she chose to correspond with her friends. Rosa, you may be sure, jumped with joy at the sight of this sweet present; called her Cuarues (his first name: is Samvue., but they have | sunk that) the best of men! embraced him a: great. number of times, to the edification of her buttony little page, who stood at the landing; and as soon as he was gone to Chambers, took the-new pen and a sweet sheet, of paper, and began to compose a poem. “* What shall it be about?” was naturally her first thought. What should be a young mother’s first inspiration?’ Her child lay on the sofa asleep, before her; and she began in her neatest. hand— LINES ON MY SON, BUNGAY DE BRACY GASHLEIGH TYMMYNS, AGED TEN MONTHS. Tuesday. ** How beautiful! how beautiful thou seemest, My boy, my precious one, my rosy babe! Kind angels hover round thee, as thou dreamest : Soft lashes hide thy beauteous azure eye which gleamest.” *Gleamest ? thine eye which gleamest? Is that grammar?” thought Rosa, who had puzzled her little brains for some time with this absurd question, when baby woke; then the cook came up to ask about dinner ; then Mrs. Funpy slipped over from No. 27, (they are opposite neigh- bours, and mede an acquaintance through Mrs. Funpy’s macaw): and a thousand things happened. Finally, there was no rhyme to babe except Trproo Sars (against whom Masor Gasuietcu, Rosa’s grand- father, had distinguished himself,) and so she gave up the little poem about her De Bracy. Nevertheless, when Firzroy returned from Chambers to take a walk with his wife in the Park, as he peeped through the rich tapestry

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220 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. hanging which divided the two drawing-rooms, he found his dear girl still seated at the desk, and writing, writing away with her ruby pen as fast at it could scribble. “What a genius that child has!” he said; “why, she ‘is a second Mrs. Norton !” and advanced smiling to peep over her shoulder and see what pretty thing Rosa was composing. | i Ht | ‘i ( I VIZ eben "az It was not poetry, though, that she was writing, and Fitz read as follows :— * Tilliput Street, Tuesday, 22nd May. “Mr. and Mrs. Firzroy Tymmyns request the pleasure of Sim oe i Lavy KickLEBURY’s company at dinner on Wednesday, at o’clock.” . “My dear!” exclaimed the barrister, pulling a long face. “Law, Fitzroy!” cried the beloved of his bosom, “how you do startle one! ” : “Give a dinner party with our means!” said he. ’ * Ain’t you making a fortune, you miser?” Rosa said. “ Fifteen guineas a day is four thousand five hundred a year; I’ve calculated it.” And, so saying, she rose, and, taking hold of his whiskers, (which are as fine as those of any man of his circuit,) she put her mouth close up against his and did something to his long face, which quite changed the expression of it: and which the little page heard outside the door. ‘Our dining-room won’t hold ten,” he said. . “We'll only ask twenty,” my love; “ten are sure to refuse in this season, when everybody is giving parties. Look, here is the list.” “Eart AND Countess oF Buncay, and Lapy Barsara Saint Mary's.” ‘ “You are dying to get a Lord into the house,” Trams said (Ae has not altered his name in Fig-tree Court yet, and therefore I am not so affected as to call him Zymmyns). ‘Law, my dear, they are our cousins, and must be asked,” Rosa said. “Let us put down my sister and Tom Crowner, then.” *BuancHE Crowne is really so very fat, Fitzroy,” his wife said ‘and our rooms are so small,” Fitz laughed. “ You little rogue,” he said, “ Lapy Buncay weighs two of BancueE, even when she’s not in the f——” “ Fiddlestick !” Rose cried out. ‘“ Doctor Crowper really cannot be admitted ; he makes such a noise eating his soup, that it is really quite disagreeable ;” and she imitated the gurgling noise performed by the Doctor while inhausting his soup, in such a funny way, that Fitz saw inviting him was out of the question. ‘Besides, we mustn’t have too many relations,” Rosa went on. ** Mamma, of course, is coming. She doesn’t like to be asked in the evening; and she ’ll bring her silver bread-basket, and her candlesticks, which are very rich and handsome.” ms And you complain of BLancueE for being too stout!” groaned out MMINS. “ Well, well, don’t be in a pet,” said little Rosa. “ The girls won’t come to dinner; but will bring their music afterwards.” And she went on with the list. “Sir THomas and Lapy Kicxiesury, 2. No saying no: we must ask them, Cuartes. They are rich people, and any room in their house in Brobdingnag Gardens would swallow up our humble cot. But to people in or position in society, they will be glad enough to come. The City people are glad to mix with the old families.” “Very good,” said Fitz, with a sad face of assent—and Mrs. Timmins went on reading her list. : “ Mr. and Mrs. TorHam Sawyer, Belgravine Place.” _ * Mrs. SawYER hasn’t asked you all the season. She gives herself the airs of an Empress; and when” —— “One’s Member, you know, my dear, one must have,” Rosa replied, with much dignity; as if the presence of the representative ot her native place would be a protection to her dinner; and a note was written and transported by the pase early next morning to the mansion of the Sawyers, in Belgravine Place The TorpHam Sawyers had just come down to breakfast. Mrs. T. in her large dust-coloured morning dress and Madonna front, (she looks rather screegy of a morning, but I promise you her ringlets and figure will stun you of an evening); and having read the note, the following dialogue passed :— |wr =I | 3 = Fah \ \ vil \| fe Mrs. Topham Sawyer. “Well, upon my word, I don’t know where things will end. Mr. Sawyer, the en Mn have asked us to dinner.” Mr. Topham Sawyer. “ Ask us to dinner! What d— impudence!” Mrs. Topham Sawyer. ‘‘ The most dangerous and insolent revolutionary

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(LORD) JOHN SIGNING MAGNA (| CHARTA.

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 223

principles are abroad, Mr. Sawyer; and I shall write and hint as much to these persons.” . Mr. Topham Sawyer. “ No, d— it, Joanna, they are my constituents, and we must go. Write a civil note, and say we will come to their party.” (He resumes the perusal of the “Times,” and Mxs. TorpHam SAWYER writes)— “My Dear Rosa, country neighbours. I ho remembrances to her, and | hope we sball see much more of each other in the summer, when we go down to the > (for going abroad is out of the question in these dreadful times). ith a hundred kisses to your dear little pet, sane “ Believe me your attached Tn She said Pet, because she did not know whether Rosa’s child was a girl or boy: and Mrs. Trmmins was very much pleased with the kind and gracious nature of the reply to her invitation. THE NE PUFF ULTRA. Wt & Ir is really too bad that Royal- ty and Aristocracy should take out of the hands of humbler individuals the task of furnishing testimonials to puffing advertisers, when it is clear that a good living might be made by those who are in want, if they were permitted to enjoy the profits of furnishing puffs for the pro- | prietors of registered pale- tots and quack medicines. We perceive that the Em- | ‘: SSS ts PEROR OF Russia has been 2 . ee condescending to this small | business, and swallowing a lot of Revalenta Arabica for the sake of | testifying to the merits of that article, when many of the Continental | Kings are so badly off that it would be a charity to let them have the | job of puffing the Revalenta, if there is anything to be got by it. | We would suggest, by the way, that as Guarartee Societies are established, it would be an excellent plan to form a Testimonial Asso- ciation, consisting of a corps of invalids of every kind and degree, whose duty it would be to take the various specifics in vogue, and write letters announcing the wonderful ~@ : < cures that may have been ‘(7% "jl effected. A capital of twenty Z ¢ bad legs of fifty years’ stand- ee ing would suffice to opena ——= saga a= a negotiation at once with « Ss Proressor Hottoway, and ; a hundred individuals without a bit of voice in the country would set up the concern, with the means of entering into an arrangement with Dr. SroiBere, in favour of his celebrated lozenges. Considering the immense number of foreign sovereigns and noblemen thrown out of employ by recent events on the continent, it is gratifying to think that there are means open to them of turning an honest enny by feeding on Revalenta, a sort of gruel—which, as they have ately got their gruel, they will be accustomed to—or by taking all sorts of pills to cure all sorts of maladies, and testifying to the virtues of the several specifics in the newspaper advertisements.

The Gold Law League. From 500 to 600 barristers assembled last week to take into consider- ation a question of taking fees. If it had been a question of returning fees when the barrister could not attend, we wonder how many of the honourable profession would have been present? The above question of taking fees was allowed, as might have been expected; for, when money is concerned, is not everything feasible at the Bar ? ORGANIZATION DU TRAVAIL. As M. Louis Branc has failed in his attempts at organising the Working Classes, we recommend him to turn his hand to organising

“We shall have great pleasure in joining your little party. 1| do not reply in the third person, as we are old friends, you know, and | your mamma is well: present my 4indest |

DREADFUL EFFECTS! (TO BE ANTICIPATED FROM REPEAL OF THE NAVIGATION LAWS.) A Song to be sung by all true Protectionists. Now sweep the seas whoever pleases ! No more the foe our flag shall drive, That braved the battles and the breezes ; No more the British Jack’s alive ! British oak will lose its toughness, British tars will lose their pluck, British captains lose their gruffness, British owners lose their luck. British goods must. needs be ahs, hen the world’s ships crowd to take ’em ; British profits must be shattered, When new ways are oped to make ’em. British merchants must be poorer With twelve customers for one ; British ships find no insurer When ’gainst foreigners they run. British kerseys won’t stand milling, Spanish ships bring home the wool ; At sixpence freight, and not a shilling, What chance of profit has Jonn Buu? How can British sugar sweeten, If in Bremen bottoms borne ? How can British beef be eaten, If it ’s fed on foreign corn ? Farewell to British goods of cotton! Manchester must cease to thrive; Raw materials must be rotten That in foreign ships arrive. Then good-bye to British glory! Then good-bye to British trade! Renown that grew of systems Tory, Must with Tory systems fade. PARIS IN LONDON. We do not wonder at Paris having arrived in London and taken up its quarters at the Colosseum, for poor Paris could certainly not have felt itself at home in its own country, under circumstances like the resent. The skill of Mr. BrapweEtt has been employed in rendering aris perfectly itself in the Regent’s Park, though it has been utterly beside itself for the last three months in its own locality. We may behold in Albany Street the prodigy of a French Restoration, for there is Paris as it was under Louis-PHrtipps, and as it never could have | been again, but for the art of the painter and the skill of the machinist. It is a pleasing sign of the absence of jealousy between the two nations, that our old friend the London Moon, to whom we have soared in the ascending room, and written sonnets to while lolling over the balustrade of the upper gallery—the very identical Moon that ee been shining over the Thames for the last three years—has, in the most obliging manner, consented to “come out” every evening for a little quiet reflection on the Seine, and to indulge its liberality by tipping the towers of Notre Dame and other Parisian pinnacles. We are not surprised that Luna should be above the ordinary jealousies which less exalted luminaries are in the habit of displaying, and we can also compliment a few of the higher order of Stars upon their having shown themselves to — at the Panorama of Paris, after the fatigues of the London easons. Swearing for Ireland. THE result of the trials of Messrs. Smrrn O’Brien and MEAGHER suggests a necessary alteration in the form of the oath inistered to jurors in that part of Her Masesty’s dominions called Ireland. Milesian jurymen—at least in cases of sedition—should be required to swear “that they will zo¢ well and truly try and a true deliverance make between our Sovereign Lady Queen Victorta and the prisoner at the bar, and will a false verdict give, contrary to the evidence,” &c. Thus, if they were not always prevented from perjuring themselves, the ends of justice would sometimes be answered. A WATCH THAT NEEDS REPAIR. Tue Jury has been called “the Watch of English Liberty.” This watch seems to be regulated in Ireland principally by an “ escapement- movement,” if we may judge from the winding-up of the late Dublin the Assembly. We cannot conceive an organisation of greater labour. | trials.

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224 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. BEGGING AT EPSOM. Ir is unanimously agreed this year, amongst all the carriages, barouches, phaetons, britskas, and respectable carriages, one-horse broughams included, to prohibit and put down, if possible, the growing practice of begging, which has been carried on lately to a most alarming extent, at Epsom. With this view it has been resolved, by the joint papas and mammas, not to notice any hungry-looking young gentleman who advances to the carriage to remark, “‘ What a beautiful day it is!” | or any such shabby, empty pretence for being invited to luncheon. | Daughters have been instructed also to turn away their heads suddenly, | and stare in an opposite direction, as soon as they see any juvenile beau ' of their acquaintance approach, as it is declared quite impossible for any | parent who does not take down a booth with him to find refreshments for | the numerous young gentlemen who go about the course, seeking what they may devour. These precautions, it is said, have been found necessary by those who possess carriages, and take down hampers, in order to guard against the possibility of a shortness of provisions, or any chance of a famine; for, last year, so many went down by the rail, and the cheap coaches, that it was quite a race after the Derby, almost surpassing it in excitement and intensity of struggle, to get anything to eat or drink, there having been so many hundred mouths to fill who had not con- tributed a single wing, or liver, or backbone, or glass of cider, to the general stock of provisions. These resolutions may appear harsh, and selfishly severe, but it must borne in mind that these gentlemen strollers flock down in swarms, with nothing more than a paper of ham sandwiches, trusting entirely to their friends, or the slightest acquaintance, for their dinner and wine; and ham sandwiches are known rather to irritate thirst than allay it. All genteel begging, therefore, is to be suppressed with the utmost severity of respectability, though we have no doubt that these fashion- able laws will be broken through long before the afternoon—as a goo dinner proverbially sharpens good humour, and it will be found im- possible for those who have not paving-stones for hearts, to refuse the customary alms to a poor fainting fellow, whose hollow cheek evidently aa epee he has not had a plateful of anything all the day, and whose usky voice tells too plainly that not a drop of champagne has passed his dusty lips since the morning. EXTRAORDINARY TRANCE. A most curious case of Trance is at present occurring in the walls of St. Stephen’s. An intelligent lad of the name of Russe. has now been sleeping there for several months, and his sleep is so intense that it is expected he will remain in the same narcotic state for weeks to come. makes his somnolency the more curious is the extraordinay noise in the midst of which he continues his slumbers. Nothing seems to disturb him. Every effort has been made to wake him up, and it is feared, unless he opens his eyes shortly, that he must fall for the want of the common necessaries of support. In the meantime, every attention is paid to him, but his soporific state excites the liveliest anxiety amongst a numerous circle of friends. Everything is kept, too, as still as possible out of doors. e shall acquaint our readers with the particulars of this most extraordinary case of Trance every week, until the poor patient evinces some sign of returning consciousness, Everything in Common. Tue following question, which has been agitated at Paris, is likely to create a great split amongst the Fourierists. “ Query:—li a Commu- nist is condemned to death, ought not every fellow-Communist to share his fate?’ The most violent partisans of the share-and-share- alike system, even those who are Communists @ mort, have been rather staggered with this question. We have heard only of one reply to it, and it is peculiar, as coming from a most decided Bianc, that is to say, a gentleman who has nothing to lose. Upon the question being put to him, he said, with a most tremendous stamp, and curl of his moustache, “T’ll be hanged if Ido!” Who can doubt him ? British Manufactures at the Drawing-Room. Ir is not perhaps generally known that most of the ladies who attended the recent drawing-room, carried their patronage of British ufactures much further than would at the first glance have aoe and we are authorised to state that Wales came in for her share of support in the adoption of the useful but homely sous jupe, de Jlanelle des Galles, which was worn by nearly every lady at Court, to the exclusion even of the exotic crinoline. It is also a gratifying fact, that nearly the whole of the gentlemen’s shirts were of British long- cloth, with the exception of the cuffs and frills, which were mostly of a transferable nature ; and even these were chiefly of the muslin familiarly known as Book, from its being usually entered in the books of the tradesmen who deal in it, THE OLD AND NEW STAFF. We have looked through all the rooms of the Royal Academy, (with the exception of the Octagon Room, where we knew it would be useless looking without a lanthorn, or, at least, a lucifer- match,) and have been bitterly disappointed at the absence ofa portrait which we had made sure to feast our hungry eyes upon. We had so long admired the “ Portrait of a Gentleman” that we panted for a change and expected that at last it would come, for there never was so good an opportunity, as when the Academy opened after the memorable 10th of April. We repeat, we were disappointed. The old “Gentleman”? still hooks on to the walls of the Academy, with his curly hair and Sunday clothes, and we must wait till next year for the payment of the Portrait” which was due this season. ‘Then we shall expect to see them in hundreds, from the peer to the poor merchant with only £20,000 a-year. We are sure Messas. Grant, Pickersot.t, MIDDLETON, and Sir Martin Suee, will not disappoint us in 1849 with innumerable phases of the aristocracy and gentry in general, taken in their new pictorial character of THE PORTRAIT OF A “SPECIAL.” WHAT ’S THE MATTER WITH HIM? Arter the christening of the infant daughter of the DucHeEss or SUTHERLAND, afew days ago, Her Masesty and Prince ALBERT were present at a grand banquet given by the Duke, and the healths of the royal couple were drunk seriatim, with all the proper honours. In this we see nothing objectionable; but we do protest against the Duke’s piper having come forward after Prince AtBenxt’s health had been drunk, and striking up the Lament of Mucintosh. What on earth had the wailing of Mister M. to do with Her Masesty’s consort ? or, to paraphrase SHAKSPEARE’S beautiful interrogatory about Hecuba— What ’s Macintosu to him? or he to Mactnrosn? Why bore the company with the Lament of that individual; and what on earth has he got to lament about ? We know of nothing to cause the grief of Macinrosu, beyond the approaching expiration of the patent for some of his waterproof wrappers and capes ; but why the Duke or SuTHERLAND’s piper should have indulged in such an odd caper, is wrapped in mystery. The adaptation of airs to healths at public dinners or other large entertainments, should really be managed with more care, for we have occasionally the health of the QUEEN Dowacer followed by Hark, the Lark / as if there were anything par- ticularly larkish in the composition of the royal lady alluded to. We have known the toast of the Bench of Bishops succeeded by the irreve- rent air of Four-and-twenty Fiddlers all of a Row ; and we have occa- sionally known “ The Ladies” to be given with the accompaniment of Buffalo Gals, to the extreme disgust of the gentler sex, who take credit for their generally anti-buffalonian qualities. TRIAL BY JURY. Messrs. Suita O’Brren and Meacuer, since their acquittal, may call themselves innocent de jure, but they are certainly guilty de facto.

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ee, 9 225 uncH makes no apology for erty the subjoined truly ritish correspondence, which must come home to British businesses and British osoms, especially those whose flame of patriotism has been kindled at the altar of Parochial Independence, now that the sacred principle of self-government seems in danger from the centralising efforts of a set of humbugs and jobbing place-seekers. From Mr. Jeremtan Bum- BLE, (Attorney-at-Law, Poor- Law Guardian, Alderman, Clerk to Paving and Light- ing Commissions, Member of Market, Toll, and Sewerage Commissions, and Chairman of Gas and Water Companies, Xc., §c.,&c., for the Borough of Great Muddlewick,) to Quintus Curtius Pure- roy, Esq., M.P. for the same Borough. Drak Str, “A MEETING was held in the Board-room of the Union, on Saturday last, and most respectably attended. Indeed, there was hardly a single individual, bearin either YF or parochi office, who did not muster on the occasion, to defend that noble principle of self-govern- ment, which is rooted in the Saxon bosom, and for which our ancestors bled freely in the field, and frequently on the scaffold. We all feel this to be a very critical moment in history. When old-established empires are going right and left, and the most respectable commercial firms smashing daily round about us, when Royalty is reduced to re joints, and exiled Ministers drive about in hack-cabs, how can we expect that our time-honoured parochial institutions should escape the shock ? “ Even in this favoured borough, where we are blessed with a Corporation (whose Charter dates from Epwarp tHE Seconp), a noble Charity School, educating six poor boys gratis, and affording an income of five hundred a year to the Reverend Master, with every department of municipal administration superintended by its own Board, there are not wanting mischievous and revolutionary spirits. Lampoons, reflecting upon several leading members of the Town Council, have been openly affixed on the Town Pump. Grimes, the shoemaker (who, you may remember, has always voted for the Radicals), has got portraits of the infamous O'’Cornor, Jonzs, and Currey exposed to view in his shop-window, and his wife has been heard to recommend physical force. The one-legged pensioner in the alms-house has been tampered with, and fraternises with Grimes over the Northern Star, in the Magpie and Stump on Saturday evenings. But that is not the worst. Open enemies of the Constitution we could meet. 1 know we can rely upon the Special Constabulary, in case of any frantic attempt at violence. But what we have much more to fear from, is the insidious spirit of centralisation. There are not ie even in the parochial camp, traitors who support the odious and abominable Health of Towns Bill! It is im vain to direct the eyes of these misguided men to our venerable Corporation. They point to the dirty little children dabbling in the open sewer, which, by the way, is mentioned rather curiously in the Conporation Records, 4n. 1514, as—‘ Y*° foule ditche, whereoute, this yeare, a marvellouse ill stenche y-comimge did breede a sore sicknesse whereof died xt soules.’ In vain I have pointed out to them, again and again, the offices to be created by the Bill, and asked them if they did not smell a rat? One of them, in reply, impudently alluded to the offices which the Bill would abolish, and declared he could smell nothing but the gullv-hole under the Board-room window. (It is rather strong.) But the authorities of Great Muddlewick, I flatter myself, are strong enough to keep down these sanitary gentry—insanitary I call them—who are anxious to put their own necks and ours under the yoke of a despotic government. “The Corporation are united toa man, Fortunately most of the Town-Council are in one or other of our four local Commissions, and several upon all four. As we elect each other, we can easily exclude these Health of Towns humbugs. The poor are perfectly contented, and I am certain that the most vigorous resistance would be made to any attempt at removing the pig-sties and midden-steads in the Low Row, where the Irish live, who have come here to work at Dizzy’s cotton-mill. They give us a good deal of trouble, and keep the Fever Hospital pretty full. Indeed, we have not been free from typhus this summer ; but what can be expected from the filthy habits of these wretched creatures? _ “There has been a great stir making by the centralising party about Baths and Wash-houses. It is ridiculous to call upon the rate-payers for any such stuff. The people won’t wash themselves now when water is difficult to come at, and a good scrubbing a kind of luxury. What will they do, if wonder, if we bring soap and water to everybody’s door? As they very sensibly remark, “Dirt keeps *em warm.” The Master of the House tells me he has the greatest trouble to get the paupers into the cold bath as it is—especially the old women, in the winter mornings. How, I should like to know, are persons of this class to be coaxed into bathing of their own accord? Besides, ain’t the rates heavy enough already, with four hundred in the. House, and two thousand getti relief out of it? fBut experience an common sense are all thrown away upon the misguided advocates of the Sanitary (!) Humbug. I don’t reason with them now, as I don’t find it does them any good. “Of course we look to you to ex- press to the House the feelings of your constituency on that atrocious measure, the Health of Towns Bill. In case of a dissolution, no supporter of such a measure could show his face on the hustings of Great Mud- dlewick, with the least prospect of success. Our Local Boards, you are aware, include the most influential gentlemen and men of ‘business of the town. They are for self-government to a man; 80 are all the parish trades- men, and the various and numerous respectable contractors employed by the Paving and Lighting, the Market and Sewerage Commissioners, and most of the large Shareholders in the Gas and Water Companies. You are aware that I command the votes of at least twenty ten-pounders, who occupy houses in the two streets I have built on my Swamp-hollow poapenty. which have let extremely well. “T have the honour to remain, “Dear Sir, “ Faithfully yours, “J. BuMBte.” Q. C. Pureroy, Esq., M.P., &e., &., &e. A SHOWER OF NEWSPAPERS. Tue French Revolution has not yet produced a poet, or a painter, or an historian, or even a cook, or a dancer. It has scarcely produced anything, excepting a loss of 1,000,000 francs, in carrying out M. Louis Branc’s favourite, but rather expensive scheme about labour. I+ seems as if there was a conspiracy against the Revolution, to prevent its being pro- ductive in any way. Yet we are libel- ling it in saying that it has not pro- duced anything, for our library table is groaning, as no table in the literary or fashionable world ever groaned before, under a weight of newspapers, which have been laid upon it since the “political horizon” has been thrown: open to competition by the removal of the newspaper stamp. The Revo- lution has prodneced 117 new journals ! The Trees of Liberty have been most prolific since they have veen planted for their branches have been covere with newspaper leaves, if with nothing else. It is lucky this accumulation of newspapers has not lately increased, or else we should have had “‘ Every Frenchman his own Editor.” Where the readers, much less the subscribers, come from is a mystery—only that is a question that rarely enters the head of a person about to start a new paper. France seems to be news-paper- ridden. Waste —— must be uncom- monly cheap at Paris!

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226 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. THE MODEL GENTLEMAN. He never broke a bank. He has never been known to dress up as a jockey, or try practical jokes on watermen, or empty flour-bags on chimney-sweeps. He shuns cross-barred trowsers, horticultural scarfs, overgrown pins, and can wear a waistcoat without a cable’s-length of gold chain round it. His linen is not illustrated, but beautifully clean. He never does “a little discounting,” nor lend his hand to “flying a kite.” His aversion for a Gent is softened by pity. He can look at a} lady without the aid of an eye-glass. He allows a performer to talk louder than himself at the Theatre, and does not spring on the stage if | there is a row at the Opera: He abhors a lie as he does a sheriff's | officer. He is not prodigal of oaths, and is equally sparing of perfume. He does not borrow his English from the stables, and never puts his | lips through a dreary fashionable course of lisping. He is not too proud to walk, or to carry an umbrella if it rains, and never waltzes with spurs after supper, even in uniform.. He never bets beyond his means, and is not fond of playing high at cards. He never ruined a young man—to say nothing. worse. He bows scrupulously, even to an inferior. e never shrinks from an 1.0.U., nor is afraid of a bill, nor seized with a sudden shortness of memory at the sight of an old friend, whose coat is not so young as it used to be. He has never proved his cowardice by fighting a duel, giving satisfaction always in a more gentlemanly way. He pays for his clothes, disdaining to wear his tailor’s in consideration for valuable introductions. His horses, too, are his own, and not purchased of his friends by a series of profitable exchanges. He is not madly attached to billiard-rooms, nor is he seen at Casinos. He locks up his conquests in his own heart, and his love-letters in his desk, rarely disclosing either to his most intimate friends. He does not bully his servants, nor joke with them, nor cut a man because his father | was in trade. He is not obsequious to a lord, nor does he hang on the skirts of the Aristocracy, knowing that a man’s nobility does not depend entirely upon his title, however old and unstained it may be. He travels to enjoy himself, and does not attempt to crush poor foreigners with English gold or pride. He values a thing, not by its price, but by its real value, and does not blush to drink beer if he is thirsty.. He does not think it essential to his reputation to keep late hours, to pull down sign-boards, bait policemen, and besiege toll-keepers, during the night. He has no such violent love for door-knockers as to induce bim to col- | not instal himself at the Opera every night, because it is fashion- able. He follows the races; but goes down without a dog-cart and a key-bugle. He is unobtrusive in his dress, and very retired in his jewellery, and has an antipathy for a white hat with a black band, and all violent contradictions either in dress or conversation. He is generous, but does not give grand dinners and expensive suppers to persons he does not know or care about. He lends money; and, if he borrows any, he makes a strange practice of returning it. He rarely “ speaks his mind,” and is very timid in rushing into a quarrel—of husband and wife especially. He is a favourite with the ladies, but does not put too much starch in his politeness, or too much sugar in his compliments. In matters of scandal he is dumb, if not exactly deaf, and as to rumours, he only believes half (the kinder half, too), of what he hears. He is not prejudiced himself, but has a kind toleration for the preju- dices of others. His golden rule is never to hurt the feelings of anybody, or to injure a living creature by word or deed. All his actions, all his sentiments, are shaped to that noble end; and he dies, as he lives, sans peur et sans reproche. This is the MopeL GeNTLEMAN, THE TRIBUNE IN TRIBULATION. We hope the Tribune in the French National Assembly is built of somewhat stronger materials than the Republic itself; for if not, down it will come with a tremendous crash, under the weight of orators that are continually crowding on to it. We should suggest the substitution of one of our old English Blackwall ’busses that carry fifteen inside, and an unlimited number out, for the crazy and gimcrack concern that usually does duty for a Tribune in the French Legislative Chamber. It would of course never break down; for no one ever yet saw an omnibus crushed under an avalanche of passengers; and besides, its peculiar construction would enable twenty orators at least to be heard |at once, from the various windows and doors, steps, coach-box, and roof of the vehicle. Its power of running on wheels would also bea great advantage, for the President might be mounted on the driving- seat, and could make the circuit of the Assembly to take up and set down—by the way, many of them want a good setting-down—the ‘orators desirous of addressing the Assembly. At all events, if the ordinary Tribune is to be retained, there should be some regulation to prevent overloading, and no more than half-a-dozen speakers at a time should be allowed to crowd on to it. SY oy if | J \ slime _ PS anne “ ——— / Quite Correct. WE perceive that Mr. Epwin Cnapwick has been appointed a Companion of the Bath,—a most appropriate honour to one who has lect them. He is not facetious with waiters, or given to knock down | been lately employed in a vigorous effort to give Baths and Wash-houses acabman by way of settling a fare. He is not afraid of laughing if he | aoe is termed a is amused, even in public, or of handing down an old lady with a turban | to dinner, or dancing with his wife. He likes quiet, but does not hate children, and thinks a seat in the House of Commons not worth the bribery and the continual riot, He was never the hero of any wager, riding, running, racing, rowing, eating, or swimming, and does | not know a single prize-fighter. He is fond of amusements, but does | yg It. is perfectly fair that-this gentleman, by having the of the Bath conferred upon him, should be enabled to make what “splashy” effect in civilised society. Printed by William Bradbury, of Ne 6, York Place, Stoke Newington, ard Frederick Mullett Evans, of No. 7, Church Row, Stoke Newington. bot in the County of Middlesex, Printers, at th-ir Office, in Lombard Street, io the Precivet of Whitefriars, in the City of London, and Publishe+ by them at No. 8, Fleet Street, in the Parishof St. Bride, in the City of Lonaon.—Sarvunpar, May 27th, 1848.

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n- ife PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 227 CONSCIENCE MONEY. EPENTANCE has visited high places; with warning knuckles has knocked—hollowly knocked—at noble terns. Economy has become a raging summer ashion in high life; and is expected to last to the end of the season. Since the immortal 10th of Spel. the Aristocracy of England have felt it impos- sible to do too much for the magnanimous masses. We know how, in the very wildness of benevolence, patriotism was promising new hospitals, new baths, new wash-houses, new parish pumps, new beadles’ hats, new everything to everybody. The feeling, a little sobered, has re-buttoned the opened pocket. Lorp BroveHaM condemned the notion of a new hospital to commemorate the 10th; though, for our part, we should have made no objection to such an edifice, if fitted up with a Brougham-and- Vaux Ward for the use of the House of Peers. However, the gratitude of many of the Aristocracy has taken a most touching form ; and we are proud that we are made the recipient of, their offerings. We have received several letters from distinguished sinecurists; but give precedence to the subjoined from the Duxe or Sr. Aupans, the Hereditary Grand Falconer; who, it will be seen, gives up his nominal post (with the current year’s salary) for the benefit of the hard-working, hard-taxed people of England :— “Mr. Puncn, “ Holly Lodge, Highgate. . “You will receive with this a sparrow-hawk, with hood, bells, and jesses. It is the only creature of the hawk kind that, as Hereditary Grand Falconer of the Empire, I have thought it necessary to maintain. The bird, however, has not been altogether useless, having waged a| ) Uiip iS Ny Ny) S successful war upon the snails and slugs of Holly Farm. You will, dispose of it as you will; either sending it to Mr. TyxzR, or keeping it for your own office as an excellent mouser, should you (conformably with Government) retain more cats in your establishment than have hitherto caught vermin. “ Sir,—For several years I retained the post of Grand Falconer, with hope to sweeten my salary. I was wont to say to myself, under the reign of Witt1aM the Reformer, ‘Go to, Beaucterc. Thou knowest the King is old. Thou knowest he careth not for flight of ger-falcon— for swoop of gentle-tassel. But is there not a blushing bud in bowers of Kensington? Is there not the roseate Victoria? Will not her silver foot some time mount the throne, and then—cast off the hawks. ! ha! There’s a good time coming, Beav.’ This, Sir, 1 was wont to say to myself, to cheer my melancholy, and to compel me to swallow my yearly salary, embittered as it was by the sense of doing nothing | or it. “ Wiit1am the Reformer died. (I pass the funeral and the general mourning.) VicToRIA mounted the throne. Immediately, Sir, I visited the Surrey Zoological Gardens, and laid in a large supply of hawks, of every sort; employing the first milliners from the West-End_ to make their hoods ; and the first bell-hangers to supply their bells. For three months, I may say it, I lived among my birds, mewing and moulting with them ; and every day a light-footed page looked from the turret- window for the royal livery, with a letter sealed with the Royal Arms, for the Hereditary Royal Falconer. “ For three months, Sir, three hours a day, I sat in my Falconer’s dress, with my favourite birds upon my two fists, awaiting the com- mands of the QuEEN, my Mistress. It at length struck me that Her Masesty did not feel disposed to hawk: and this truth seemed to strike the birds at the same time; for some died of melancholy, some of the Pas in the end, I was left with the single kestril which comes with this, _““Had Her Maszsty graciously commanded me to kill even her pigeons for her pies, I would have travelled to Windsor, birds and all, with the delight of a loyal subject. Had she permitted me even to have a swoop at the pullets for the kitchen—to kill the geese for Michaelmas —it would have somewhat reconciled me to my salary. But Her Magesty refuses to hawk, and, Sir—with all respect and loyalty I say it—I refuse any longer to take wages for doing nothing. “T therefore, Mr. Punch, through you—who will be good enough to communicate the same in the proper quarter—here renounce my sinecure of Hereditary Grand Falconer, and with it the £1200 per annum, and am ‘Your constant and converted Reader, “Sr, ALBANS.” “'P.S. No power on earth shall induce me to take the salary for the present twelvemonth.” A FRENCH EDITOR. Bexop him at his daily work. You would fancy he was in an arsenal. He is merely in his é¢ude. He holds the destinies of Europe in the nib of his pen, and is obliged to defend himself with a ten- pounder. He seems in a state of siege, but he is only appealing to the noble citizens to preserve the public peace and order. He sways the Provisional Government, and yet dares not put be to paper without a musket ready loaded at his side. His “political horizon” is bounded with pistols, carbines, pikes, and swords. He scribbles with daggers about him, even if he uses none. They are not there to incense others, but to defend himself. His writing-desk should be a drum, to enable him to beat the rappel in case of an invasion. His penholder should be a bayonet, to guard against any sudden attack. Each article is written over a powder magazine, and the smallest spark from his plume d’acier might blow him to Vincennes, or right over the border, far away from his “belle France.” Doubtlessly his printer’s-devil is one of the Garde Mobile, and carries his copy to the printer’s in a cartridge-box. r knock at the door must set him trembling all over, and make him | ——a T imagine some Frére has called for his head. His first impulse is to load his gun, his second to ask “ Qui est la?” his third, to cut and run. He knows it is not pleasant to write at the dictation of a mob! | Doubtlessly he wears a suit of armour under his flannel waistcoat, to | guard against any “ pressure from without.” Poor fellow! our editorial bosom jumps with sympathy for thee! It istoo bad that thy career | of peace should be attended with so much danger—that thy laurels should be gathered in the mouth of the cannon. Who can tell thy fears—the boundings of thy heroic bosom? Thou preachest Equality, erhaps with a wild ouvrier pulling thy manly beard; thou praisest Liberty, ——_ with a band of volcanic republicans at thy humble door; and no doubt thou discoursest baggy about Fraternity, with a host of naked swords hanging over thy devoted head. A' literary Damoctes, without e’er a feast before thee! May Posterity drop comfort in thy Editor’s Box as she walks through Paris in search of names to record in the present crisis, and, finding none more glorious than thine, take it away with her to engrave in golden letters on the iron scroll of Fame! A BEAR-GARDEN. Ir is not generally known that there is at Shoreditch, near the Eastern Counties Railway Station, a oe Bear-garden, for the nourishment of bears, and from this establishment “families are sup- lied with unadulterated grease direct from the bear,” every morning. Buch is the consumption of this rarity, that a man goes round with bears’-grease as regularly as the milk ; and the cry of “ Grease below!” is familiar in the vicinity. Sometimes a real bear is danced into a per- spiration at the door of the customer’s house, and the grease supplied in its pure state from the hide of the } We are told that free-trade does not interfere much with the home- grown grease, for there is none imported now from Ursa Major, though | a few small pots, said to be from Ursa or, are occasionally thrown upon the market. The bears of the Shoreditch breed are remarkably fine; and, indeed, the old Bishopsgate Street Bruin is considered to afford the rarest specimen of Ursine life to be met with in the whole range of Zoology. VOL, XIV, Zz

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVART. FANTASTIC EXHIBITIONS. Tue evenings at the House of Commons lately have been every bit as fantastic as those of Rosert Hovuptn’s. There have been tricks, wonderful passes, and sleights- of-hand which have struck every one with amazement, making us wonder how ever | they could be done so perfectly as to deceive us with our eyes open. The tricks have been very clever, particularly that of the “‘ Washerwoman’s Cauldron,” in which numberless Corporations were taken, tied into a bundle, thrown into the cauldron, and brought out again perfectly clean, though the artful way in which the City of | 17? London was left out elicited one tremendous “Oh!” and many could not make out the evident sleight with which it was done, nor have forgotten it to the present day. It is in these sleights particularly that the exhibitions excel, But the most astonishing part is the Wonderful Boy, who supports himself on a slender stick, so thin that you fancy it must break under him, and remains in an elevated position in the easiest manner, just as if he were going to sleep. You are afraid that every minute he must fall; but no: there he remains, caring apparently for nothing about him, with his eyes shut, and all his limbs and senses evidently paralysed. It is the most wonderful act of suspension we have ever witnessed. All the support he has for keeping him up is the little stick above mentioned, which is called “ Whig Government ;” and how he manages to hold on to it so long is a bit of conjuring so marvellous that we can scarcely credit our senses, though the thing is taking place before us. The name of this wonderful little boy is “Jounny RussExt,” and we advise all our readers not to fail on any account to witness his incredible tricks, for his evenings of performance are drawing to a rapid close. There never will, or can be, anything like it again. PRINCE HAL AND PRINCE AL.—A PARALLEL. THERE are some comparisons which are not odious, and of these we hope we shall afford a specimen, in pointing out a resemblance between two Princes, one of whom adorned our Royal Family above four hundred years ago, and the other embellishes it now; although neither of them, it was once apprehended, would turn out to be either ornamental or useful. We allude to Prince Henry or Watzs, afterwards Henry THE Firru, who has been handed down to us under the title of Prince Hat, and to another Prince, whom, under that of Prince AL, we hereby transmit | to posterity. Prince Hat commenced his career by devoting himself to that branch of hus- baudry which is commonly called the sowing of wild oats—to reap, it was expected, | He lay about in pot-houses; he associated with | the usual harvest of seediness. thieves and vagabonds; he frequented all places of disreputable resort; and he assaulted the Lorp Curer Justice on the Bench; for which outrage he was com- mitted to one of his own father’s gaols. He was, in fact, the medieval Man about Town, the Brick, the Beau; in short, the Fast Man of his period. But when Har succeeded to the Crown and Sceptre he abandoned the Blue Posts—at least the Boar’s Head in Hastcheap. He not only relinquished his fast and foolish courses, but having ceased to be a great scamp, he became a great sovereign. Now Prince At, to be sure, never haunted gin-shops. He did not consort with | the swell mob, nor swagger about the streets and beat the police. Neither used he to go to Coal Holes, Cider Cellars, and Casinos, nor to steal knockers, or wrench off | bell-handles at midnight. Nor will it be recorded of him | that he punched the head of Lorn Dewmay, or got sent | to the House of Correction. But Au did indulge in another kind of dissipation—the waste of time. He gave his mind up to his dogs and gun. He rose up to breakfast and shoot—and he came home to lunch. His life, apparently, had no better aim than the bearing of his fowling-piece and rifle. He could bring down a stag, indeed, at a long range, and knock over partridges and pheasants right and left. But he was only great in a datiue. It beeame the general impression that he was fit for nothing but a gamekeeper: nor was this removed when his Royal High- ness betook himself to the more useful occupation of a hatter. Thus, though AL, unlike Ha, was certainly an in- offensive young man. yet the world, as in the case of Hat, as certainly expected no good of him. Tat was wanted at last; and when he was wanted -he was found. So was At. A neighbouring dynasty was suddenly overthrown. A movement directed against mo- | narchical institutions ensued throughout Europe. At ‘the bottom of it was a wide-spread feeling of discontent among the labouring population. Just at this juncture, out comes | Prince Au, takes the chair at a meeting of an Associa- | tion for the Improvement of the Working Classes, and |makes a speech so judicious and apposite, as to convince | everybody that he had quite mistaken his forée if ever he | supposed it to consist in making hats. Prince AL, like- Wise, assumes the patronage, and contributes handsomely |to the funds of an Institution for supplying the people with Baths and Wash-houses. The whole British public cheers him, and cries “ Bravo!” and asks, “ Who would have thought it?” It is said that Prince At has an ar- tistic eye. No doubt he has. He knows the value ‘of contrast. He saw—as Prince Hat before him did—that his reformation would show ‘* Like bright metal on a sullen ground.” It is not for nothing that Ax has dined off royal plate. He is up to the effect of polished upon frosted gold. In shoot- ing, and hat-making, he has been merely preparing a back- ground on which to put in his high lights. The result is a very remarkable brilliance; and, in the opinion of this once facetious, then malevolent, now laudatory, and al- ways impartial journal, the portraits of Prince At and Prince Hat may be regarded as companions. Looking attentively first at this picture, and then at that, we pro- nounce them to be decidedly similar. STAUNCH SUPPORTERS. } | | One of our fashionable contemporaries—for we have two | or three journals which deserve the epithet—gives a beau- tiful account, which almost rises to the height of history | in its elevated tone, of a party at the DucuEss or SuTHER- LAND’s. There is, however, one little touch of the familiar, | which is rather derogatory to the dignity of the drawing- | room Grszon, or the West-End Hatam, or the Hume of | the haute-monde, by either of which titles our contempo- | rary may fairly describe himself. In speaking of a portion | of the entertainment, he says :— | The Ducnrss or SUTHERLAND was supported right and left by the | Prince oF Paussia and Paince WILLIAM or Pavssia.” This expression is forcible, but by no means elegant. The idea of the Duchess being supported “right and left” shows the enthusiasm of her guests, just as the inti- mation that the banquet had been “‘pegged into, hammer and tongs,” would be a forcible, though not a very polished, mode of indicating that the repast had been sat down to with a lively relish, and a vigorous appetite. The Idlers of Chancery. Cootness, it is said, is a quality essential to the lawyer. | This necessary ingredient of the legal character is displayed in a most extraordinary degree by the Officers of the Court of Chancery, who, with enormous arrears of business on their hands, and in spite of the loudest outcries and the greatest sufferings occasioned by their not despatching it, quietly take a holiday from the 25th of March to the 26th of May. There exists a Law Assurance Society; but we ce in connexion with the Law to match know of no assure | that of the Court of Chancery.

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL. 229 eRe PO et Oe* Slug oe \| ae svTee oc meee wees 8 UU eee Ce Ce ~ 5 PUNCH’S POLITICAL ECONOMY. Puncn was, a few nights ago, at the Opera; and endured all the horrors of the middle passage. He was violently squeezed between the Hart or ELLenBOROUGH an the Duxe or Ricumonp. Nevertheless, with a philosophy —the fame of which, like the fame of Hnglish Lucifers, is now be- come European— he endured the pressure with a dim religious feeling that good must come of it. Punch, relieved from that pro- digious squeeze, immediately made the best of his fainting way to Mr. Ricnarp Doyte, who drew upon him for his likeness at sight. The portrait has already interested the eyes and hearts of millions. All this, however, by the way of preface. Let us now proceed to the important results of that historic squeeze. Punch, 30 long jammed between the two peers, caught their Political Economy. He almost immediately felt it; but next morn- ing it came out upon him full as measles. (It is well known, by the way, that the Ear. or Exrtensoroucu— with a graceful forgetfulness of his own sinecures to the heroic tune of £9000 per annum—is anxious to act the part of a Lorp Josern Hume in the Peers. He is, for the time, the noble Saveall of the nation. The Duke or Ricumonp has, within the past week, betrayed symp- toms of a like economy. Indeed, such a passion for parsimony has seized so many of our noblemen, that in several instances blue ribands are, it is said, about to give way to blue tape, and real ermine to yield the place to red rabbit.) The effect upon Punch has been startling and immediate. He walked home from the Opera, when it has ever been his inexorable custom to take a Hansom. He slept without a rushlight ; and, risin:; carly in the morning, he emphatically countermanded his matutinal red herring. Then, knowing what certain Duchesses have done for their country in the way of encouragement of home manufactures, Puch refused his ordinary coffee, and sent out for roast. home-grown corn. He moreover desired his landlady to take every bit of Spanish mahogany out of his apart- ment, and to bring him table and chairs of good stout English oak. Then, having breakfasted upona penny buttered roll—first assured that the wheat was grown in Kent, and the butter churned in Devonshire, being none of your Tamboff and Dutch stuff—Punch was about to shave. flecting, however, that his looking-glass was lined with quicksilver exported from the mines of Styria. he dashed the mirror into atoms with a passion worthy of Richard the Second, and re-acied the good old Day AND Martin legend, by shaving himself in the lustre of his own boot. Great, however, was his consternation upon finding the boot was not of English hide, but of Spanish cordovan. Punch would have liked to ; unshave himself, but that was impossible. Punch still proceeded to make his toilet. His soap—need he say it— was Windsor—supplied by the same manufacturer who supplied Mr. T. B. Macautay, with dis cake in the Devil’s ‘lower, when he washed ! his hands of that memorable visit to the Castle. Punch was then about | to brush his hair, when his eye fell upon the brush’s ivory back. | Knowing that elephants were not of English manufacture, Punch Punch, then, lighting a cigar—a British Hounsditch—sallied forth to take his walk, delighted in the belief that he carried nothing about him but what was of British manufacture. “Tf the dear Duchesses,” thought Punch, vain-gloriously—* the dear roseate wise ones who signed the British manufacture manifesto, could only see me now ”— At this moment a ragged starveling woman with a baby in her arms approached him. Punch (knowing, as-a political and social economist, that it was very wrong) took out his purse. It contained ten yellow sovereigns. Punch was smitten to the soul. “Gold,” said he remorse- | fully, ‘‘is an article of foreign manufacture, and materially injures our own Cornish copper. ‘lake it,” cried Punch, placing the mischievous exotic in the woman’s- hands, equally relieved himself that he had thus | got rid of every article:that was not of British manufacture. Yet one word. Punch returned home rather late. He could not | sleep. ‘The hed seemed to draw him like a blister. He jumped up; | ripped open the tick—it was filled with foreign feathers. ate as:it was, he ordered up a truss of English straw, and slept the | double sleep of the patriotic and the innocent. MAKING THE MOST OF THEM. Mr. Henry Russert, who is the Composer, according to his own ac- count, of the original idea from which everv piece of modern music has been pilfered, as well as of all the Ships on Fire, Maniacs, and Gamblers’ Wives that were ever known, has recently been adopting the capital idea of making the most of his audience, by calling upon them to join in the choruses at his entertainments. ‘This is all very well as far as it goes; but if it should be carried a little further, and they should take to singing the solo parts as well as the choruses, the presence of Mr. Russet himself would become superfluous; his audience, being able |to amuse themselves, would get on very well without him, and might | keep their money in their pockets. | We advise Mr. Henny Russert to think of this before he carries | too far the principle of calling upon the public to entertain each other |for the small consideration of a certain number of shillings. We |recommend him to keep himself rather more independent of his | audience, and his audience more dependent upon him for the effect of |his compositions. We shall have him next requesting the babies | | present, to squeal, by way of heightening the horrors of the song of the | ‘*Gambler’s Wile,” or the “Ship on Fire,” or any other of the fifty | | songs in which a child in arms and its mamma, interchanging squeaks and sobs, are the principal characters. By this arrangement, Mr. Russe. would be sure of a general chorus at all events; for it is a rule of juvenile economy, that directly one infant begins to cry, every other | infant present affords its voluntary contribution to the harmony. “SHOULD OLD ACQUAINTANCE BE FORGOT ?” Wuewn a seat is wanted for any Member of the Government, some | obliging nobody is requested to go out to make way for him. We find |no fault with this plan, for the exchange is frequently a good one. A | clever man is in most instances gained by itt But why should these | tactics be restricted to the Government? Why should not the Opposi- tion resort to the same means of gaining a clever ally? Its strength is immediately sent out for a brush of British make, sitting patiently with | not so invincible at the present crisis, that it should despise an expedient dishevelled locks, until the implement was brought. ‘that would strengthen its ranks. Men of talent are not so plentiful in This done, there was another delay. Puzch’s combs were of the! the country, that one should be spared. We beg, therefore, of some deepest and most delicate tortoise-shell. Now, assured that every | illustrious unknown in the House—and their number is legion—to come | Duchess had repudiated tortoise-shell as encouraging the foreign animal | forward, and do a graceful act in giving up his seat to Mr. RoEsuck. ' to the loss of our own domestic oxen,—Pwach had to sustain another! He will do more good by that one move than if he sat on the Parlia- ! wait, until he might pass through his locks the horn of his own country. | mentary benches till Feargus O’Connor was Prime Minister. After this, Punch proceeded very well with his ‘making up, until he; A man of Mr. Rorsuck’s courage and sterling common sense, came to his cravat—this was of foreign silk (for those mulberry-trees | would be invaluable in Parliament at the present time of lukewarmness that are to grow in Spitalfields are not yet planted). Here was|and heavy dulness. We have often had occasion to find fault with | another delay, until the landlady departed for, and returned with an! Mr. Rorsuck; we have often been at variance with him; we have English cambric check. | often ridiculed him as kindly as our satirical disposition would allow There was another stop at the coat. It carried a collar of Genoa! us; but we would willingly retract every word we have said; joyfully velvet. Whereupon Mr. Raprascat of Regent Street was imme-| sacrifice every joke we have made, however brilliant, to see our old diately summoned with a choice of paletots made of the hair of | enemy and respected friend in the House of Commons again. Will no CADWALLADER’s goats, of ancient British manufacture. | one retire to make room for him? Come, gentlemen, who are supposed | All was now tolerably right, until a new difficulty arose with the hat. | to represent the wisdom of the country, who amongst you will admit a | Inside was written—‘‘ Superfine Beaver.” Now, Puxch knowing that| Member who can really do something to support it? Speak! but we | beavers did not burrow in the banks of the Thames, or of any English | beg, only one at a time. river soever, repudiated the foreign castor, and the weather being} We hope next week to record the names of the generous patriots sunny and soft, he straightway sent for a hat made of Dunstable straw, grown in British fields, reaped by British swains, and stitched by British females. Punch took his stick ; but remarking, for the first time, that it was a piece of Oriental dragon’s-blood, he snapped it across his knee, resolving to purchase a bit of real English ash. who have volunteered in this cause, and to present our readers with | the portrait in gold, of the happy Member on whom the honour of | selection has fallen. We trust, shortly, to congratulate the country upon Mr. Rorsuck being once more in the House of Commons. | It is a disgrace to us all that he should ever have been compelled to leave it.

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230 == —~——s«éPUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. THE MODEL DAUGHTER. YonstantLy she comes down to breakfast be- fore the -tea-things are taken away. She is always. ready for dinner. She curls her own hair, and can undress herself with- out aservant. She is happy at home with- out going to a ball every night. She has not a head-ache when her papa asks her to sing. She “practises” only when he is out. She does not have her letters addressed to the pastrycook’s,’ or make a postman of the housemaid. - She does not read novels in bed. She dresses plainly for church, and returns to luncheon without her head being cramfull of bonnets. She is not emg embroidering mysterious braces, or knitting secret purses, or having a Turkish slipper on hand for some anonymous foot in the Guards. Her fingers are not too proud to mend a stocking, or make a pudding. She looks attentively after the holes in her father’s gloves, She is a clever adept in preparing gruel, white-wine whey, tapioca, chicken-broth, beef-tea, and the thousand little household delicacies of a sick-room. She is a tender nurse, moving noiselessly about, whisper- ing words of comfort, and administering medicine with an affection that robs it of half its bitterness. She does not scream at a leech, or faint at the sight of a blackbeetle. - She does not spin poetry, nor devour it in any great quantity. She does not invent excuses for not reading the debates to her father of an evening, nor does she skip any of the speeches. She always has the pillow ready to put under his head when he falls asleep. She can behold an officer with womanly fortitude without falling in love. She does not keep her mother bea | an hour at an evening party for “just another waltz.” She never contracts a milliner’s bil unknown to her parents—“‘she would die sooner.” She never stitched a Red Turk in her life. She soars above Berlin wool, and crying “ one-two-three-one-two-three” continually. She knows nothing of crotchets, or “ Woman’s Mission.” She studies housekeeping, is perfect in the com- mon rules of arithmetic, and can tell pretty nearly how many “long sixes” go to a pound, She checks the weekly bills, and does not blush if seen in a butcher’s shop on a Saturday. She is not continually fretting to go to Paris, or “dying” to see Jenny Linn, nor does she care much about “that love Marto.” She does not take long walks by herself, and come home a 1 “she lost her way.” She treats her father’s guests with equal civility, making no distinction between the gentleman and the tradesman. She is not fond of pulling all the things over in a shop merely to buy “a packet of pins.” She can pass a Marcha: Mode’s without —— She never dresses in silks or satins the first thing in the morning, nor is she looking out of the window or admiring herself in the looking-glass all day long. She makes the children’s frocks, and plays alittle at chess and backgammon, and takes a hand at whist occasionally,—“ anything to please her dear father.” Her grog, too, elicits the warmest encomiums from the old gentlemen who drop|in. She does not send home “lovely” jewellery for her father to look at. She does not lace herself to death, nor take vinegar to make herself thin. She wears thick shoes in wet weather. She has a terrible horror of coquetting.- She is kind to the servants, and conceals their little faults from their “‘ Master and Missus.” She never pouts if scolded, nor shuts herself up in her room to culti- vate “the sulks.” She is the pet of her “ darling papa,” and warms his slippers regularly on a winter’s night, and lights his candle before goin upto bed. She is hermamma’s “dear good girl, as ‘is sufficiently proved by her being intrusted with all the keys of the housekeeping. There is terrible crying when she is married, and for days after her absence nothing is heard in the house but regrets and loud pratees, and earnest prayers for the happiness of the Mopet DaucuTeR. FREE AND EASY FELONY. One of the most agreeable signs of the times is the gentleness and | forbearance—we may say the complaisance—with which the criminal | law is beginning to be administered. We read in the Zimes that on the occasion of Mr. MitcHeEt’s trial— ** Several ladies occupied seats throughout the Court. Mr. T. F. Meacger and a great | many others of the more prominent members of the ‘ Young Ireland’ party also at- tended, and were accommodated with seats near the prisoner, for whom a chair was | placed in front of the dock.”’ | We thus see a criminal prosecution assuming the character of a per- | fectly civil proceeding. We expect to see burglars at the Old Bailey | allowed a seat in front of the dock, and their associates, or, as the are vulgarly termed, “ pals,” provided also with chairs near their friend. Perhaps minor offenders will be accommodated with a sofa, and the Judge, instead of talking of the prisoner at the bar, will allude to the defendant on the ottoman. Should the accused be disposed to leave his case in the hands of his counsel, he might also be supplied with a number of the Zimes, or a cigar and a glass of brandy-and-water, to amuse himself with pending its investigation. At least, a person arraigned merely for theft or larceny ought to be treated with as much consideration as Mr, Mitcuet, if what is sauce for goose is to be sauce for gander. BW A SEVENTH POINT FOR THE CHARTER. We have to propose a measure of economy that will, we think, effect | - an enormous saving to the Exchequer. It is well known that scores of | Members of Parliament believe that their only duty is to be continually | moving for Committees and Returns. The Blue Books and other waste | : paper of which these senators are the prolific parents, it is grievous for | everybody—trunkmakers and buttermen excepted—to contemplate. | We have to propose a remedy—in fact, a Seventh Point to the Charter. | It is this :—‘‘ PAPER-MONEY FOR MEMBERS OF PARLIAMENT.” We propose that every Member of the House of Commons be allowed £100 a year to find his own printing. If he do not move for what turns Man of Refinement out a Blue Book, or Returns of any kind, why, the whole £100 will go KNow war YoU ARE GOING TO say. ” Do ALLOW ME TO PERSUADE YOU TO CALL IT ASPARAGUS—AND HERE 1S SIXPENCE FOR YOU.” into his own pocket. If his motions for printing exceed the sum, such 4, !:—~Sparrer-cras excess the Member shall pay himself. We think that we have thus hit ena escaping upon a mode that will save both public time and public money. EDUCATIONAL MOVEMENT. Pon Sens . Now pon’t, My Goop Man—pray pon’t.—I You aRE Gorne To say, ‘ Ya !— =

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PUNCH. OR THE LONDON CHARITVARIT. 233

| SEASONABLE INVENTIONS. | two entirely new inventions to | Messrs. Doper. The first of theseis the Anti-Solar Hat, which | combines the solidity of the manly gossamer with the ele- gance of the feminine parasol,

will answer all the purposes of an ‘umbrella. The other is a modification of the existing Omnibus, | which will enable the travellers from Paddington to the Bank to per- form that hitherto broiling journey under the most agreeable circum- stances; and, if musi i but—“ Here in Cool ’Bus,” at the moderate charge of 3d. all the way.

FPRICERATO!

HOMAGE TO METTERNICH. “ Aw Oxford Graduate” writes to the Morning Post, suggesting that the Oxford Hebdomadal Board should, at the ensuing grand commemo- ration, confer an honorary degree on Prince Merreryicu. To du this double-deep ex-Minister and diplomatist Master of Arts, would be gilding refined gold and painting the lily—sending Natives to Colchester, or consigning to Newcastle Wall’s-End ; inasmuch as there are no arts of which he is not a consummate master already. It is impossible that any academic distinction could add to the peculiar reputation of Mer- TERNICH; but perhaps the University might create him Professor of Intrigue, or Doctor of Dissimulation, or appoint him to be its Machia- vellian Lecturer, just to manifest its appreciation of his deep attainments. ORACLES. Lord John Russeli—“ The middle| Mr. Hume.—“The middle classes classes do not want Reform. They | do want Reform, and will have it. do not care about it. Iam positive) I am positive of this—that the they do not. The Hon. Member’ Hon. Member at the head of the for Montrose has been misinformed Government knows nothing what- about the feelings of the middle | ever of the middle classes, or what classes.” they want.” Mr. Feargus O’ Connor.— “ The | Mr. Cobden. — “The working working classes (and no one knows | classes are eager for Reform, and 1 them better than myself) are to a am convinced they will not be man against Reform. They would | quiet till they have it. No one not have it, even if it was offered knows less, and is more mistrusted to them.” | by the working classes, than the | Hon. Member for Nottingham.” Now, only one of these oracles can be right. Perhaps the middle classes and the working-classes will decide for themselves? They have | till the 20th of June, when Mr. Hume’s motion for Reform comes on. We hope the opportunity wili not be lost. A JUVENILE ATTEMPT. Tue practice of infant joking has lately prevailed to an alarming extent, and there is scarcely a boy of the present age—which includes, of course, his own—that is not found getting into puns before he is be registered by the enterprising | and which, in its ¢out-ensemble, | cally given, to sing, not—‘“‘ Here in Cool Grot,” | - Wych Street, and . ing in length from tution, for the purpose of vaccinating the youth of the day with a better sort of humour than that which, when they take it naturally, is developed | in their system. Some of the original matter from Joe Miller is recom- HE heat of the weather has caused | mended as the best for the purpose of vaccination, and the prevention of more dangerous sorts of humour from becoming manifest. As an instance of the sad state to which our juvenile Pop ation is reduced, we may state the fact, that an otherwise exceedingly intelligent boy was actually heard to recommend one of his schoolfellows to take a Bath bun after having taken a bath in the Serpentine. Surely this is a case for the interference of every well-wisher to is species. THE HAZARD OF THE DIE. layed at the Olympic, THERE is a very good tragedy now being e author seems to have under the title of The Lords of Ellingham; but t ~ | considered that his tragedy would be <Sy- ny Pare unworthy of the ~idr,, name, unless the | characters in_ his bills were nearly all | brought within the | bills of mortality. \If the Olympic | Theatre furnishes pos returns on the | subject, we are ' sure the Registrar- , General’s next Re- port will show an ‘alarming increase of deaths for the last quarter in

‘we may expect {that, in the next new play at this theatre, some extra accommodation will be required for the defunct at the fall of the curtain, or there will be a series of legs, vary- two feet to three | feet, stretching a- | cross the stage in | the direction of the ; ‘orchestra. We recommend the clever author to curb that propensity | to dramatic homicide, in which he has hitherto indulged. DESCENT OF THE CURTAIN ON THE OLYMPIC TRAGEDY. Heartless Calumny. Ir has been lately whispered abroad, and muttered at home, that the | Ethiopian Serenaders—(rest_their bones!)—were a party of attorneys disguised as serenaders. We are certainly sorry to think that such a libel should have got into circulation ; for, to describe them as attorneys, is surely to make them much blacker than they were painted. If it is true that they turned their legal parchment into tambourines, and cast aside the brief for the banjo—if they bathed themselves in the ink which would otherwise have flowed in unison with the money from the | pa of their clients—we can only say that the Ethiopian ex-attorneys | have shown wonderful versatility in turning from a course of life employed | in fomenting litigation, to a course of existence whose object is the | promotion of harmony. The New Protectionists. Tue ladies have been recently getting up a new Protectionist party, | whose grand principle is to wear no article except of British manufac- | ture. The managers of the different and indifferent theatres have also | been requested to protect British interests by bringing out no production or dealing in no piecework of foreign manufacture; but the fear is, that |the trade must stop altogether, if an end is put to dealing in the

fairly out of pinafores. There is, in fact, a sort of epidemic going| French markets. In several houses a determination has been formed about in families, whose younger branches are in a state of eruption|to drink nothing but British wine, and the gooseberry districts have deserving the name of rash, which developes itself in a breaking-out of | accordingly become a source of considerable profit to the proprietors, a serious, because intended to be of a comic, character. We understand | while the old ancestral elder groves, whose antiquity is emblemed in that it is in contemplation to get up a sort of facetious vaccine insti-| their name, have become the resort of the wine-merchant.

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234 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. EXCUSES FOR NOT GOING TO THE DERBY. in. We ‘are astonished at the c \ number of reasons that kept people away from the Der- persons are clever at in- venting excuses, and nothing else. ‘Their power of inven- tion stops at that ingenious point. Every person that was not at the Derby had a different excuse. Instead of boldly confessing that he did not choose to go, or could not afford to go, he much preferred giving some out-of-the-way excuse, to hide the terrible truth. We are so afraid of ap- pearing mean or vulgar, that we prefer telling a fashionable falsehood, rather than be suspected of either. It is time we should, for, if we recol- Alas! when shall we improve ? leet right, we are in a.p. 1848, The following are a few, picked out of the innumerable excuses we heard the day after the Derby, from persons who were not there :— Jones had made arrangements to go, but his kitchen chimney caught fire just as his party came in a carriage-and-four to fetch him. Rosrvson was summoned on a Jury; he was excessively annoyed ; he would sooner have given twenty pounds than have stopt away. His wife, whom we met shortly afterwards, told us she had been so disap- pointed, but Mr. Roprnson had had a touch of his old complaint only that morning, and the doctor had forbidden him to leave the house. He suffered such tortures from the gout, she didn’t like to leave him. Lapy Tanner had tried to get horses everywhere, and WELLINGTON TANNER had missed the last train by two minutes. He had overslept himself. It was just like his luck ! . Bounce (of the Artillery) laid all the fault on his boots; they were so tight he could hardly walk, his corns pained him so. He was quite a martyr in warm weather; yet he was walking well enough when we met him. Srupson expected an important cause to come on, in which he held a brief. It was just as well he did not go, for he was a most unfortu- nate fellow in betting. Smitn’s father had come to town from Manchester that very morning, and he did’nt like to leave the old gentleman, for he wanted him—in secret—to pay his bills. His heart, however, was at Epsom all the while,—which we thought was a very compliment to his father. BaRkeER had a bill to take up, and was “very short.” This was a favourite excuse with a large majority, which proves that money must be very “tight” just at present. , CLARKE was going to his aunt’s the next day; but what this had to do with the Derby we did not like to inquire. CuiprenDALe had promised his “‘ governor” never to go to another race—he had been bitten so terribly at the last Derby. Srooner’s wife was taken with hysterics at breakfast, and she did not recover till it was too late. Mercatre cut himself shaving, and could not stop the bleeding ; and poor Seymour lost the key of his wardrobe, and he couldn’t get a shirt or a single thing to dress with. It was very provoking, wasn’t it ? These are specimens of the endless excuses we heard for persons not going to the Derby. We pitied a poor pet n the most ; he had to attend the Meeting at Exeter Hall, for the Conversion of the Hindoos. We shall never forget his saying, “Sir, I must have risen to speak at the very moment the start took place, and can assure you all my thoughts at that moment were upon Swrplice.” Of all the excuses we heard, we do not believe in one, with the exception of that poor pet parson’s, National Humiliation. We have heard a great deal lately about the proud position of Old England, amid the wrecks and revolutions of surrounding nations, but alas! the Derby Day has accomplished what Chartism, Republicanism, and all the other isms and sch-isms put together, could never achieve. It was peony remarked, that in going to, and returning from the Races, the whole British people seemed to be collected together, and that, without an exception, they were all obliged to bite the dust. Many a patriot who has long had Old England upon his lips, was found with his native land literally in his mouth, to an extent that must have been rather disagreeable. by. We are convinced some | P LITERARY INTELLIGENCE. CoNsIDERABLE sensation has been created in the literary world by the removal of the intelligent railway librarian from the station at London Bridge to that at Shoreditch. It is well known that this enter- rising collector had established a library, second only to the Alexandrian in extent ; and, by a sort of sacrilege, second only in enormity to that by which the Alexandrian Library was destroyed, have the Directors of the Brighton and Dover lines driven away the rare museum of literature which had hitherto adorned their station, gratified their travellers, and enlightened their neighbourhood. We hear that lucre has been at the bottom of this ill-advised step, and a few paltry pounds in the way of rent have been sufficient inducement to them to exile Civilisation from their platform, Philosophy from their rails, and the dreams of Poesy from their sleepers. The Spirit of Literature has, however, found its way to Shoreditch, and there, under the fostering wing of the Prince of Railway Librarians, we hope to see it flourishing. THE BRITISH TREE OF LIBERTY. LIBER LIBERTATIS BRITANNICUS. Genvs.—Specialis Constabularius.—Liny £Us. Flowers about the 10th of April. Tue British Tree of Liberty flourishes only in a generous soil. Its branches are of a very hard wood, resembling, in the closeness of its fibre, ash and sometimes oak, and they are not unlike in shape the con- stable’s staff. Its roots are as thick as a man’s arm, and its trunk is so large that it takes a very strong person indeed to grasp it, especially when its branches are in full swing. The strength of this tree has been tested very much lately; for, about two months ago, a number of idle hands were engaged in trying to pull it down; but it maintained its position, without shrinking or yielding an inch. It grows in towns, but can cultivated anywhere—even in foreign climates, if there is good ground for it, and the land is not impoverished too much by constant draining. The native place of the Tree of Liberty is London; but it has spread so fast everywhere, that it will take nothing but a national convulsion, to which our country is but little given, to uproot it again. It affords the _ protection to those who put themselves under its branches during a storm. The Jewish Race. Surplice beat Shylock on the Derby Day. . : Shylock was again beaten by Surplice the following day in the House of Lords, on the Jewish Disabilities Bill. ; This is too bad, two days running! However, the race is not yet over. Shylock must make every effort next year, and 1000 to 1 he will beat Surplice by several heads. , Betting in the City and House of Commons all in favour of Shylock. A —

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 235 | TRANSPLANTING FRENCH THEATRES. Tue French theatres are running to ruin as fast as public excitement can take them. Managers are advertised for in every direction, but they cannot be had; which proves that the French are not quite so mad at the present moment as they are represented to be. The few managers that are left are packing up their houses, | and preparing to give London the benefit of their companies. A Frenchman who | wishes to see a French piece, will have to come to London to witness it. He will | have a double advantage: he will be able to see it either in French or English—| that is to say, if there is an English theatre still left open. In a few weeks, we expect, an English actor will be able to advertise himself at ashilling a-head. People | | will flock to see him then, as a curiosity. Who knows, the Court might visit him ? | ' Flag, instead of the Marseillaise with the ¢ricolore; Mouibre, Marivaux, Beav- | MARCHAIS, MusseEt, and Scrip, on the other three nights.: No free representations. ' with all its Péris, Tentations, and collection of ballets and “ rats,” to Covent Garden. ~~ Le Roi S’amuse, and the Midsummer Night’s Dream be shelved for La Tour le Nesle. | of the very grossest) to the St. James’s ‘Theatre; that is to say, supposing it cannot ' at Vauxhall, and the Chaumiére throw open its doors to all the éudiants of | amusement of Paris, will be comfortably installed in some corresponding building in London, and the poor managers and actors will be able to shelter themselves | snugly from the ruin which is hanging over them in their own capital. | of such little importance now-a-days, that we do not think we need devote a line o Depend upon it, if the threatened invasion of French actors takes place, the English | Drama will be on the following national footing :— Drury Lane will be occupied by the Théatre Francais; Racuet will perform three nights:a-week, ‘and sing “God save the Queen” between thie acts, with the Union The Académie will bring over its Juive, Favorite, Huguenots, and Comte Ory, | The Vaudeville will sing its couplets at the Lyceum, and the Gymnase will perform its Mistress Siddons, Clarisse Harlowe, and Le Marchand de Jouets, (the Cricket | on the Hearth, with the “Cricket” left out, and no “ Hearth”) at the Adelphi, where we shall have an opportunity of studying English manners and customs, as translated by the French. The Haymarket will surrender its stage to the Varidtés ; | Mapame Frore will supplant Mrs. Grover; Farren will be succeeded by | Horrman; and Mas. NisBert by the impudent Désazer. Pieces de Pantalons | will be triumphant. ; ; The Porte St. Martin will commence its reign of murder, and every possible | crime, at Sadler’s Wells; Othello will be discarded for Le Docteur Noir, King | The Gaité will go through its Sept Passions with La Grace de Dieu on the Surrey stage, and Les Folics Dramatiques will drive away, in a shower of blue fire, the * Heroine of Domestic Drama” from her favourie servant’s hall, the Victoria. The Palais Royal will give the preference of its calembours au gros sel (sometimes get the Walhalla (fit abode for it) or some place near Leicester Square, where the colony of foreigners can gain easy access to it, and have it all to themselves. MapameE Saqut (her shade at least) will exhibit af the Marylebone, and Les Funambles, and Les Délassemens Comiques lodge themselves at the Pavilion and City Theatres. The Cidteau Rouge may have its quadrilles (revised and corrected) London, at the Casino. By this arrangement every theatre, every place of public But what is to become of the English managers and actors? Why, this a subject. conjecture to it. The only person who will have reason to complain, will be the Lord Chamberlain, for he will have to read some twenty new French pieces every night, to see if he can license them. And the pieces will rather require it, for the majority, we know, have been written without any license at all. We advise the Lord Chamberlain to buy a cheap copy of La France Dramatique, and to_ begin | | reading it at once ; though, after all, Cumberland’s Theatre, perhaps, wil! do just as | well. He had better be guided by the following rule :—“ License all the pieces | that have already been translated, and cancel all those that have not ;” for he may | depend upon it they must be bad, indeed, if they have escaped translation. | JOHN BULL AND JOHNNY CRAPAUD. A Dialogue. Crap. Hota! Jean Buti—arise! awake! And break your chains. Bull. I’ve none to break. Crap. What! feel you not your fetters? Eh? Bull. Not I, indeed, man. Crap. Insensé ! The spectacle sublime of France, Will it not tempt you to advance ? Bull. Not in the path of Revolution. Crap. Slave to your laws and Constitution, La Gloire, she has no charms for you. Bull, La Gloire—La fiddlestick—pooh—pooh ! Crap. You’ve no émeutes, like our grand nation, Tn Europe to create sensation. Bull. You’re very right; we don’t allow Our rabble to kick up a row. Crap. You have no fétes—no triumphs gay. Bull. We’ve a contempt for children’s i, Crap. You have good pavements for the feet In your Pall Mall and Regent Street ; But you make knives and razor-blades More cleverly than barricades. Bull. Our flag-stones we adapt, my friend, To what we think their proper end. Crap. Your lives are one dull round of quiet. Bull. Yes; we prefer that state to riot. Cap. You take no pride in arms and war. Bull, No; ’tis a thing that we abhor, Resolved to fight on no pretence, Except when forced in self-defence ; But, once obliged to come to blows, We do our best to crush our foes. Crap. Bah! it is plain that you pursue Business, not glory. Bull. Very true. Crap. Shake off the tyrant’s hateful yoke, Glowing with patriot’s fire. Bull. All smoke. Crap. Pursue, then, cotton-spinning race, Of common sense the courses base, Dead to all aspirations high, And great conceptions. Bull. All my eye! UNREPORTED ILLUMINATIONS. Tue Illuminations on the QueEn’s Birthday were very elegant—those of the Theatres particularly. The Haymarket and Lyceum had the QuzreEn’s box beautifully illuminated. The following motto was hung in a festoon of green-coloured lamps over the panels—“ Though lost to sight, to memory dear.’ The lamps, however, of the word “sight,” went out very early; but the “memory” burnt vividly to the very last. The Princesses’ was closed in honour of the occasion ; but the horological big drum over the portico was lighted as usual. The French Plays had a splendid medallion of the oar crowning Messrs. Scripe AND CLAIRVILLE with laurel. Underneath was a transparent scroll, with the following words in gold:—“ 4 la Reine d’ Angleterre les Comédiens Francais reconnaissants.” Drury Lane had a statue of Aurtor on the shoulders of SwaksPEaRE. In the background was a transparency of Francont riding on the backs of six English dramatists. The whole liberally strewed with sawdust. ; The Olympic had the illuminated organ on wheels outside, playing “ God save the QuEen,” every five minutes. The other Theatres proved their gratitude by burning their usual gaslights, even if their doors were not opened. f| In fact, every place of amusement made light of the royal atronage. It was transparent everywhere. p I AURICULAR PHENOMENON. Upon the examination of Sirk Henry BuLwer’s ear, on his arrival in this country from Madrid, it was found to contain a flea of most gigantic proportions. ‘The flea proved to be one of the family of Industrious Fleas, whose activity set Sin Henry Bunwer in very rapid motion.

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| | PUNCH. OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

A-TRIUMPH AT THE: WRONG END. Music is a safe adjunct to anything. We have known a bad | Court as if he were going toatriumph. He was no vulgar prisoner, | meeting pass off quite lively with the aid of a good band; and many a | but, lifted on the music, he rose into a hero. He walked like a con- dreary evening party has been indebted to Juxuien and his music | queror, distributing coups de chapeaux with the affability of a newly- for drawing to aclose. The Irish Patriots know the influence of music. elected Member. Felony, in this way, loses its vulgarity, and the They speak with clashing cymbals, which strive to make as much noise | rabble cheer as they would at a street conjuror playing a voluntary on the as they can, in order not to be mistaken, seemingly, for the symbols of | Pandean-pipes. However, the patron of pikes, the apostle of hatred peace, and they always manage to gain the ears of the mob through the | against the Saxon, is convicted. We are afraid his music is for ever medium of a drum, the best accompaniment for eloquence as noisy and | stopped. He should have reserved his triumph till after his acquittal. hollow as theirs. Music, too, helps to make a jubilee of a defeat. _ The overture was bad, but the finale is worse. Let us hope the threatened In this way MircHeL was accompanied to trial. He marched into | crusade of bloodshed is now over in Ireland, never to be renewed.

. | “Jn the House, however, I don’t think there is much to fear. Between THE BUM BLE LETTERS _. | ourselves, Ministers don’t care a fig about the matter. The Public From Q. C. Purgroy, Esq. (MP. for the Borough of Great Muddlewick, | Health Bill is only a sop thrown down to the noisy place-seekers out of President of the True Blue Association for penty the Rights of | doors—the doctors, and philanthropists, and the popularity-hunting Britons, - President of the.Muddlewick Mechanics’ Institute, Chair-| parsons, and such fellows. Lorp Pumpxtn, perhaps, who. has charge man of Quarter Sessions, §c., S¢., Fc.), to JEREMIAH BuMBLE, | of the Bill, cares as much about it as he can care about anything, But Esq., S¢., §¢., Fe. | then you know how soft he is—squeezeable to the last degree. pend “Dears “ House of Commons, 12 o'clock, v. | upon it, by the time the measure drags its way through Committee it will “T wave to acknowledge the receipt of your closely-reasoned | be a ted. tame snake indeed, with its fangs filed, and its poison-bag I . - tracted. and most enlightened letter. It comes at the right time. I shall take | ©*2 teoal : ich thi care that the sentiments of Great Muddlewick, and expecially of its | 4 ot wit pul iti oak Se ao ae hey poeten, walle a i admirable municipal authorities, are made known in the House. It is! (oot be too much on our guard against any measure creating appoint- such opinions. which really tell on Ministers. It is a painful truth that | ments, which are certain, as all men of the world must know, to be severe blows are being struck just now at the glorious prificiple of Self- | given "to political suppo sicse. ft fo lamentella 1 challd be'ce: bat government, out of doors. There is a dangerous disposition abroad to | so it ia . : ? run down vested rights, and to interfere with that most sacred of all | “"«‘p. sanctities, the sanctity of property. We hear a ey fuss made about duties. But what I say to you, my dear Sir, and to all in stations of influence, is, ‘Take care of the rights, and the duties will take care of themselves!’ What is a duty, but something done freely and without compulsion ? . How can this character belong to acts which are to be | os oe and ~~ congeeery pedes penanies f a. “The Englishman’s house, Sir, I hold with you, is his castle. is ‘That . is the great principle of the Constitution. If an Englishman choose to| ,, ‘ Theirs and yours most sincerely, - live in a dirty castle, it is no business of any other Englishman. The J. Bumste, Esq. Q. C. Purzroy. Briton may go about with a dirty face, when the subject of a despotic | Sey Fe, Fe. stn wey is dragooned into a slavish cleanliness. Freedom is our =— eet, and tyranny is not the less tyranny that it comes in the garb of . —_ = ga and coerces tie public into washing-tubs and Smoke. ails of whitewash. , Pate Besides this, the principles of Political Economy are decidedly THE Reforme gives us the statistics of the Féte of Fraternity at Paris. opposed to the Sanitary me Profits depend on wages—falling as | Amongst other curious facts, there is one which illustrates rather they rise, and rising as they fall.. Wages depend on population. ‘The cleverly the movements of France at the present moment. It tells us denser population is, the lower wages must be.’ Thus, if Sanitary | that, “between the arrival of the National Assembly in the Champ de Improvements incre the numberof chdre, hat are reared, they, Mare aud leven ooo a nigh there were S402 commons fre ‘ e thus injurious to the working man ; and, ; :- , it may be urged, that the Sanita: reformer is the selfish op ressor of orga mae a —— ba ranked = the She og SRipenelached eo ey se, i worth weile to werk im oat | caught all (o be retarned to the National Assembly.” If well primed, the aa hand, it salehe be ry ¢ the cect ony ollie dl | President might in vain ring his bell to stop their throats. They would Muddlewick Meteor—to take the other view, in favour of the Capita- | help, with the other Members, to verify the old national proverb, “Pius list. Sanitary reformers aim at raising the standard of Comfort among | % 2ruit que de fruit”—not a bad motto for their high-sounding the working class. They are thus inducing a check of population, and | Proceedings. tending to raise wages. They are, therefore, the enemies of the | = —$—SST—$<—_ Employer. In this way, you see, my dear Sir, you will have these | Printed by William Bradbury, of No. 6, York Place, Stoke Newington, and Frederick Mullett Evans, of No. 7, Church Row, Stoke Newi , both in the County of Middlesex, Printers, at mischievous men between two fires ; and, do them pretty brown on both their Office. im Lombard Street’in the Precinet of Whitefriars, in the City of London, and Pub- i} by them, at No. 85, Fleet Street, in the Parish ef St. Bride, in the City of London.— ‘ Pray put me down as a subscriber for '£10 to the Fever Hospital. | Is there anything 1 can do which would be-agreeable to your Swamp- Hollow tenants? Assure the Members of the Town Council, and your active Commissioners, that they may depend on my opposing every insidious attack on the principle of Self-government, * And that_I am ever, with the greatest respect,

sides—if you will excuse the pun. Sarunpar, Juxx 3rd, 1848.

<a rcanpe Ae A OO OEE OE Om AITO ETT

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 237 YESTERDAY; A TALE OF THE POLISH BALL. | BY A LADY OF FASHION, “The absence of the Life Guards, being on duty against the Mob, oecasioned some disappointment to many of the fair fashionables at W1LL1s’s, on Monday night.”— Morning Paper. IONEL DE Boots was the son of Lorp and Lapy DE Boo- TERSTOWN, and one of the most elegant young men of His figure was tall and slim ; his features beauteous: al- though not more than eigh- teen years of age, he ‘could spell with surprising correct- ness, and had a sweet yellow tuft growing on his chin, already ! A pattern of every excel- lence, and brought ad a fond mother’s eye, LionEL had all the budding virtues, and none of the odious vices contracted by youth. He was not accustomed to take more than three glasses of wine; and though a perfect ; Nimrop in the chase, as I have heard his dear mamma remark, he never smoked those, horrid ome while going tohunt. = : e received his Commission in the Royal Horse Guards Pink, (CotonEL Gizzarp), and was prseented. on his appointment, on the birth-day of his Sovereign. is fond mamma clasped her mailed warrior to her bosom, and wept tears of maternal love upon his brilliant cuirass, which reflected her own lovely image. But besides that of her Ladyship, there was another female heart which beat with affection’s purest throb for the youthful Lionen. The lovely FrepErica De Torry (whose appearance at Court this year created so thrilling a sensation) had long been designed by her eminent parents, the Eart and Countess or HarpyBake, to wed one day with the brilliant heir of the house of De Boors. _Freperica nearly fainted with pleasure when her LioneEt presented himself at Alycampayne House in his charming new uniform. “My military duties now call me,” said the gallant youth, with a manly sigh. “But “twill not be long ere next we meet. Remember thou art my partner in Lapy Smicsmac’s Quadrille at the Polish Bail. Au revoir— adieu!” Emotion choked further utterance, and, staggering from the presence of Love, LioneL hastened to join his regiment at n—ghtsbr—dge. That night, as the Cavaliers of the Horse Guards Pink sate in their tents, carousing to the health of their ladye-loves, news came from the Commander-in-chief that England had need of her warriors. The Chartists had risen! They were in arms in Clerkenwell and Penton- ville. “Up, Cavaliers!” said the noble De Gizzarp, quafling a bumper of Ypocras 9“ Gentlemen of the Horse Guards Pink, to arms!” Calling his battle-ery, Lione laced on his morion; his any valet-de-chambre placed it on the golden curls of his young master. ‘To draw his sword, to recommend himself to Heaven and sweet Sr. WiLL1BALD, and to mount his plunging charger, was the work of a moment. The next— and the plumes of the Horse Guards Pink might be seen waving in the | midnight down the avenues of the Park, while the clarions and violins of the band pealed forth the national anthem of Britons. LionEv’s mother had taken heed that the chamber which he was to occupy at the barracks was comfortably arranged for her young soldier. Every elegant simplicity of the toilet had been provided. «Bake care that there be bran in his foot-bath,” she said to his old servitor (pointin, at the same time to a richly-chased silver-gilt bain de pieds, em — with the crest of the De Boorsgs.) And she had netted with her own da crimson silk night-cap with a gold tassel, which she entreated —nay, commanded him to wear. She imaged him asleep in his war- chamber. “ May | soldier sleep well,” she exclaimed mentally, “ till the ringing trump of morn wake up my gallant boy!” FREDERICA, too, as far as modest maiden may, thought of her LionE.. “Ah, CRINOLINETTE,” she said to her maid, in the French language, of which she = a mistress, “‘ 4h, que ma galant Garde-de-vie puisse bien ir ce nuit |” Lionex slept not on that night—not one wink had the young soldier. In the moon, under the stars, in the cold, cold midnight, in the icy dawn, he and his gallant comrades patrolled the lanes of Clerkenwell. Now charging a a of Chartists—now coming to the aid of a squadron of beleagured Policemen—now interposing between the infuriate mob and the astonished Specials—everywhere IONEL’S sword gleamed in the this or any age or country. || thick of the mélée; his voice was heard encouraging the troops and filling the Chartists with terror. “Oh,” thought he, “that I could measure steel with Fusset, or could stand for five minutes point to point with Currey!” But no actual collision took place, and the Life Guards Pink returned to their barracks at dawn, when CoLoneL Gizzarp sent off a most favourable report to the Commander-in-Chief of the gallantry of young De Boots. P The warriors cared not for rest that day. A night in the saddle is no hardship to the soldier; though Lionet, feeling the approaches of a cold and sore throat, only took a little water gruel and lay down for half-an-hour to recruit himself. But he could not sleep—he thought of Freperica! “To-night I shall see her,” he said. *T'was the night of the Polish Ball, and he bade his valet procure from Hammersmith the oveliest bouquet for FrepERICcA, consisting of the rosy Magnolia, the delicate Polyanthus, and the drooping and modest Sunflower. The banquet of the Horse Guards Pink was served at eight o’clock. and Lionel, to be ready for the ball, dressed himself in pumps and antaloons, with an embroidered gauze chemise, and a mere riband of _~ round his neck. He looked a young AroLto as he sat down to e! But scarce had he put the first spoonful of potage a la reine to his ruby lips, when the clarion again sounded to arms. “Confusion!” said the gallant Gizzarp, “the Chartists are again in arms, and we must oe The banquet was left untasted, and the warriors mounted their steeds. So great was the hurry, that Lionex only put on his helmet and cuirass, and rode forth in his evening dress. ’Twas a pitiless night; the rain descended; the winds blew icy cold; the young soldier was wet to the skin ere the Guards debouched on Clerkenwell Green. And at that hour Freperica was looking out of the left window at ALMack’s, waiting for LionEL. Hours and hours he sat on ;his war-steed through that long night— the rain descended, the wind was more chilly, the dastard Chartists. would not face the steel of the Loyal Cavaliers of the Horse Guards Pink, but fled at the sight of our warriors. Ah! ’twas a piteous night! FREDERICA was carried at daybreak to Alyeampayne House from the ball. She had not danced all that night: she refused the most eligible partners, for she could only think of fer Cavalier! her LioneL, who never came! Her mamma marked her child’s frenzied eye and hectic cheek, and shuddered as she put her daughter to bed, and wrote a hurried note to Dr, L—c—cx. : y At that hour, too, the Horse Guards Pink returned to their barracks. The veterans were unmoved: but, ah me! for the recruits! Lionen | was in a high fever—two nights’ exposure had struck down the gallant boy—he was delirious two hours after he was placed in bed! “‘ Mamma! Freperica!” he shouted ” . ” ° - * OK *” * - aa * * Last Saturday two hearses—the one bearing the helm and arms of a oung warrior, and the escutcheon of the De Boorsgs, the other the ozenge of the Alicampaynes, wound their way slowly to Highgate Cemetery. LioneL and Frepertica were laid in the same grave! But how much of this agony might have have been spared if the odious Chartists would but have staid at home, or if that young couple had taken from twelve to fourteen of Mortson’s UNIVERSAL PIs, instead of the vile medicine with which “the Faculty” killed them? Moves in the Right Direction. We have long inveighed against the nuisance of the passport system, and the expense of it. Great, alterations, however, have lately taken place. Governments seem inclined to provide Foreign Ministers with passports on the easiest terms, and to facilitate their travelling in every way, so that they may experience no delay on their route. In this manner have two Sardinian Ministers at foreign Courts been furnished with passports, and they have even been assisted in their depar- ture. Our own Ambassador at Madrid has also been helped in the same way. Every facility was afforded to him to leave the place with all possible speed; and it is believed that the journey from England and Spain never was so accomplished ir so short a time, though the distance between the two countries never was greater than at the present moment, - The Crops. Tue London Hay season is popeniog favourably. ~ We have looked through the railings into the interior of Leicester Square, and can assure the cab-horses of the metropolis that there will be this year a good average crop. We have also seen two blades of grass, of the very greenest description, sprouting up vigorously in the Exeter Change Arcade. The Beadle waters them regularly twice a day with his tears, as the scene, he says, reminds him of the joyful hay-day - his youth. An opulent farmer from Essex is in treaty with him for the crop. wiles VOL, XIV. AA

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| A SCHOOL FOR PRINCES. Tue air of England has an extraordinary beneficial effeet upon foreign Princes. When they leave their own country at the point of the bayonet, and, without a change of linen, land at. Dover, they generally bring with them a very bad reputation. ‘They have been driven away because of their political and (sometimes) social viees; they arrive in London; they are called upon by the nobility; they dine with Jeassy and Loyponperry ; they visit a Chiswick Flower-show; they never miss an Opera-night with Jenny Linp; and all the while they are so constantly improving, that, at the end of two or three months, their | dearest countrymen would scarcely know them. The last striking instance of this amendment is in the person of the Prince or Prussia. He came direct here from Berlin, smelling woundily of gunpowder and the blood of the Berliners. He was in very bad odour, indeed, for a few weeks. Since then he has performed quarantine from home at the London West-end, and, within these few days, has quitted England, the sweetest of Princes. What says the Zimes of his amended Royal Highness ? “* Every one who has had an opportunity of observing the demeanour of the illustrious Prince, and the attention which he has paid (o the constitutional developement of our institutions during his stay in England, must feel convinced thit he departs sincerely disposed to accept and serve the new constitutional monarchy with the same zeal and se/f-devotion which characterised his adherence to the old order of things in Prussia.” This is liberalism made very easy. Certainly, no sick baby—no mother’s hope, or father’s pride—sent from the bad air of a city to inhale the balmy breeze, drink new milk and smell cows’ breath in some suburban dende—an pale, ricketty babe ever became so glowing and so lusty, as the hope and pride of Prussia upon a few weeks’ London air. And yet foreigners will abuse our fogs! How ungrateful, when indirectly they so serve their infant Constitutions. Still, we do not think that advantages sufficient are derived from our political and geographical atmosphere; and therefore pronose that a Political Preparatory School should be opened, at which foreign heirs, apparent and presumptive, should be properly educated for future thrones. We wish we could induce Lorp BrovuGHamM to superintend an establish- ment of this sort. His world-wide fame would bring him scholars from all quarters. We should see on his forms pupils of all colours, from the coast of Guinea to the coast of France. In the lively bope that his Lordship may be induced to think of this, we venture to submit to him —of course, subject to his own amendment—the subjoined skeleton Prospectus :— “ Woolsack House, _ *Lorp BrovcuaM AND Vavx begs to inform ail foreign Thrones, | Dominations, Powers,—that having some leisure upon his hands he has opened an Academy for Princes. “The Pupils will be particularly well instructed in the Use of the Globes, or rather Globe. Every care will be taken to impress upon the mind of the scholar contentment with bis own patch of the Globe aforesaid, and with corresponding respect for the patches of his neighbours. “The British Constitution will be taught to pupils in a manner that shall render the lesson at once instructive and agreeable ; namely, by means of a toy-puzzle—to be broken to bits and put together at the will and intelligence of the student. In order to illustrate the peculiar elasticity of the Constitution aforesaid, the puzzle is composed of | prepared India-rubber. ‘The Jurisprudence of England will be taught to pupils by means of the pea-and-thimble; in order that the scholar may be emphatically | impressed with the beautiful uncertainty of British Law. “Lorp BrovGuam is happy in his assistants. The intellect of England is to be found among his lecturers and ushers. He will merely observe that the Bishop of Oxrorp examines the pupils upon the Vanity of Courts; and the Ear, or ExLtensporouGu upon Indian Autiquities and the true Aristoeracy of Christianity. | “That the pupils may have the advantage of listening to the very noblest specimens of eloquence, they will be accommodated (tree of extra charge) with tickets for the House of Peers—every night that Loxp Baoucuam addresses Parliament.” “The pupils will be under the immediate control of his Lordship: therefore it would be a matter of supererogation—indeed it would be} crass ignorance, further to remark, that they will always have before | them the noblest example of meekness, forbearance, and all the higher | qualities of the gentleman. “Parents of pupils must give references; and, considering the | hazard attending such tuition—a half-year in advance (pocket-money | for pupils included.) “As in many cases it would be peculiarly inconvenient for pupils to return home during vacations, there are no holidays. “Every pupil is expected to bring his own plate (no German silver allowed) and an ample wardrobe. Should, however, the pupils’! PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. |to write years, but we mean | departure from home be unexpectedly precipitate, Lonp BrovcHam | (who is rather an authority on dress) will charge himself with an outfit ; the money being placed at a banker’s. \““N.B—WNo family connerion of Pto Noxo need apply; and no | Provisional Government treated with,” . PUNCH’S MILK JUG. THe Temperance Movement generally makes a step forward in the march of public events once a year. May is generally the favoured month for advancing, and Exeter Hall generally the plaee where the step is taken. We have often been accused of giving our countenance exclusively to conviviality. Now we have often an eye to temperance, and if we do turn up our nose at it occasionally, it is emly done to enable us afterwards to take a deeper draught of the jug that is filled at the spring. We are a x as fond of water as a long life of Caudleism will enable us to be, and if we do colour the liquid now and then with a golden or purple hue, which slightly improves its fla- vour, it is done merely to draw the Curtain over a Lecture which we cannot darken in our thoughts by any other means less potent. Wives should bear this in mind: We can al- ways tell the dis- position of a wife towards her hus- band, by the quan- tity of milk that is drunk in the household. If we see lemons and nutmegs also, or worse than all, a cigar-box in a house, we know at once the worst. Mrs. scolds and : \ Mr. drinks. If eee min rst — TF ‘\—— Madame is very _ = WOT Wh == hard, then Mon- sieur drinks, and smokes, also. Now, to prove we often open our lips to temperance, we present the Teetotal Societies with the pattern of a beautiful Milk Jug we have had in our family for the last fourteen—we were going days. The reader will be pleased to observe that in our Milk Jug the water is all on the outside. When we drink water we don’t take it in our milk, but have it direct from the pump. Mr. Fetrx SumMER ty is welcome to our design, providing he charges a less than £10 for any earthenware specimen he may make out of it. REVOLUTION IN THE DRAMA. Tr is reported that among the performances at the Théatre Historique (formerly the Temple of the British Drama, Drury Lane) we are to have Le Chevalier de la Maison Rouge. This is a piece which will create a true revolution in the Drama, if not elsewhere, by exbibiting one with all its attendant atrocities, in progress upon the stage. As such a spectacle is not likely to be particularly edifying, and as it is necessary to adapt most. French theatrical productions to the English taste, we recommend that the Chevalier de la Maison Rouge should be Anglicised under the title of Zhe Gent of the Red House, and that. the scene should be laid at Battersea instead of amongst+bloodshed and barricades. There would be no harm in the lessons of a play which would be sug- gestive merely of popping at pigeons; but there certainly is a slight objection to one calculated to teach the Young English idea how to shoot—on revolutionary principles.

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 239 “WE°’RE ALL A-NODDING;” &c. Amoncst the many presents that are almost daily sent in to the QUEEN we notice a wonderful Quilt, made of the most curious patch-work. We cannot ‘tell what Her Magesty does with all her presents. The Pantechni- con would scarcely contain the produce of one year. Probably Buckingham is being enlarged to contain a choice col- lection of them. It will form a most curious museum, strangly stocked with curiosities, alive and stuffed, and to classify :it will require a Cuvier who understands alike the structure of a toy, the anatomy of an Alderney cow, and the fossilisation of a seed-cake. We can- not help wondering at the very strange purpose of some of the presents, hat does Her Masesty want with a Quilt? It might not fit her bed either. Properly speaking, a four-poster ought to have been sent with it. Now we can imagine the sense of the gift, if a Quilt had been sent to Lorp Joun Russe. He has been sleeping so much recently, that it might add to the comfort of his slumbers. It might be made, also, of the most curious patchwork, that is to say, portraits of the different Members of his Cabinet, all doze-a-doz- ing. We are so much in love with the notion, that we give a design gratis, for any intense admirer of the Premier’s powers of somnolence, to copy it. As his Lordship isa member of the Beprorp family, a great compliment might be wrapped up in this Quilt by presenting him at the same time with the freedom of Beds. PADDY REDIVIVUS. WHatever may have been formerly the quality of Irish humour, the only humour which Ireland has evinced of la'e has been dreadfully sour. It is pleasant, therefore, to find a few stray sons of Erin emitting even the faintest flashes of that drollery which was wont to set us in a roar. The three following instances of Hibernian pleasantry are quite refreshing, and reniind us agreeably of other and better times. On Tuesday night, at the Chartist meeting at Clerkenwell Green, Mar. Daty, of the Irish Confederation, declared that— “He came there as one of the Irish Confederation, for the purpose of asking his fellow- countrymen to form an offensive alliance with the Chartists of Kngland.”” Admirable! What alliance could be more thoroughly offensive than the combination proposed by Mr. Daty ? Mr. Grattan, on the same evening, complaining of having been misrepresented in the Morning Post, asserted that our peculiarly le contemporary “* Was mischievous, but perfectly harmless.” Imagine the effect of this proposition on the Collective Wisdom. We understand that many Members have not recovered from it yet, and that several of them—not, however, including Ma Joux O’ConneLL— were in real danger of dying on the floor of the House—with laughter. Lastly, Mr. Doreny, at a public dinner at Dunboyne, in allusion to the present condition of Ireland, said— ** And if we do not better that condition, and prepare, we should only inen‘t the me- mory of those patriots who s/eep in their glorious graves, and wh) watch for the dawn of Ireland's independence.” Sure Ireland, then, is the land of patriotism. In what other country upon earth are there patriots who sleep and watch at the same time, and that in their graves—patriots dead and buried, and alive and kicking, | and asleep and wide awake? By the Powers, we should like to be acquainted with these patriots, and go with Mr. Doueny and plant laurels on their graves, and shake hands with the gentlemen under the roots of the daisies ! “See Naples, and then Die.” Tuts proverb has been cruelly verified by the recent massacres. Strangers who went to see the beautiful city were so struck with the above proverb, that they have not survived it. The inhabitants, too, have fallen martyrs to it. Thus Ferpinanp’s cruelty promises to become quite proverbial. If a nation be really judged, as is said, by its proverbs, then Naples will be jndged rather harshly by the one above. ‘The sooner it is thrown into Vesuvius the better; the fire, combined with the sulphur, might purify it.

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240 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. SONG OF THE SEDITIONIST. THE MOB LEAVING THE ORATORY TO RUN AFTER THE FIRE! Come, all lovers of Sedition for its own delightful sake ; Come, all disaffected rascals, a disturbance let us make ; Come, at midnight let us meet, ye revolutionary crew, With no purpose in particular but rioting in view. Whilst in almost every capital of Europe there’s a row, Brother vagabonds, shall we alone continue quiet now ? What ! of rapine, pillage, massacre, and all that sort of thing, Fellow villains, is it only we that shall not have our swing ? No! my housebreakers and pickpockets, my thieves and cut-throats, no ; In our nightly mob assembled, what we ’re made of let us show : Let us bellow forth our rancour, let us howl and yell our hate *Gainst all rule, and law, and order whatsoever in the state. Let us shout, “ Assassination ! ” whilst our FusseLt recommends Our approval of the sentiment—and take the hint, my friends ; Let us shriek aloud for pikes, and with the Patriot sympathise, Who suggested flinging vitriol into British soldiers’ eyes. Should the Guards appear, however, at that moment in our sight, | We must set to work and cheer them, you observe, with all our might; For, you know, they ’re awkward customers, and ’tis our wisest plan With ourselves to make them fraternise, if anyhow we can. Then, in long procession forming, all the thoroughfares we ’!l thread, To create intimidation and excite alarm and dread ; Whooping treason as we march at eo unseasonable hour, Breaking windows, lads, and doing all the mischief in our power. Should the Specials or Policemen interfere to stop our course Knock them down, brave comrades—if of very much inferior force : If it happens that our numbers should be only ten to one Let them catch us if they’re able, whilst we nimbly run, boys, run. Shan’t we have our insurrections—shan’t we have our barricades ? Shan’t we sing our MVarseillaises? Yes, we will, my jolly blades. Down with all our institutions—let them crumble in the dust. Shan’t we have a revolution? Yes, we shall, we will, we must. '! What with Trade though Wages perish ? Plunder still we shall not lack; Let Old England’s power and greatness go to ruin and to wrack! In our infamy we’ll revel, we will glory in our shame ; Ape the foreigners, my hearties, and renounce the English name!) } A FAMILY MAN. PROFESSOR FUSSSSSSELL AND HIS TALENTED FAMILY ABOUT TO ASSASSINATE A “MINION.” , _ Ar one of the Chartist Meetings the other day, a Mr. Fusseit, who is always carrying out the meaning of his name by making a fearful fuss, delivered himself of the declaration that he had five sons, and would disown any one of them that refused to assassinate an enemy of freedom. We can imagine what an exceedingly agreeable family Fusse11’s must be, and what a beautiful spirit must animate the domestic circle in which an objection to the crime of murder is regarded as a piece of mawkishness that ought to banish the member who in- dulges in it from the parental threshold. We think Fusseit and his five sons might go about like the Dist1N family, not to blow their own trumpets, but to exhivit themselves as a party of British Savages. The novelty of the thing would alone be sufficient to attract, and we re- commend FussEut to get a caravan for himself and cubs as soon as possible, for the game of Chartist agitation has ceased to pay since the attempt to get upa Liberty Fund ended ina balance of fourpence against the Chartists. THE DOWNY ONE. _ Mr. Fearcus O’Cornor is speoking, as the reader will readily imagiue, after he has read the following bit of bombast, which is taken from the Northern Star of May 20th, 1848 :— ** Mircnen, if you are convicted by the Whig Treason Act, my head shall feel no until your manacles are struck off.” May we ask how the Member for all the Chartists has slept since Mr. Mircnet has been convicted? Has he not been to bed for the last two weeks? Or has he got over his dreadful threat by sleeping without a pillow? For, in that case, he would certainly feel none, having none; or does he iene Me head in asling dangling from the top of his room; or rest his head on a carpet-bag, for that is not, strickly speaking, a pillow, a3 any one must have experienced who has slept in the cabin of a steamer, the floor his only bed, the rug his only counterpane. We long to hear what Mr. Fearcus O’Connor has done with his pillow. Doubtlessly, he uses it to smother his laughter when he thinks of the foolish threats he makes to deceive his dupes. A collection of his vows, taken from his paper, would not make a bad pillow for him, if he likes to have something soft to lie upon. { eee ater

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THE MODEL BACHELOR. Hea lives in Chambers. He is waited upon by an old Jaundress, who lives he scarcely knows where. He sees her once a week to pay her wages; but hears her every morning putting his room to rights. He rises late. He is skilful in lighting a fire—his practice generally of a morning. He understands the principle of boiling a kettle, and can cook a chop without burning his fingers. He bears all misfortunes with equanimity, and goes out without an oath to take his breakfast at a coffee-shop, if he is “‘out of tea.” He is not astonished if he finds no loose silver in his trowsers, after they have been brushed. He has lost the keys of hisdrawers. His tea-caddy is, also, open from morning to night, the lock being, like his means, dreadfully hampered. He is uncertain about the number of his shirts. He has not seen a button for years. He cannot tell who drinks the grog, or what becomes of all the empty bottles. He wonders who has taken his Waverly Novels, excepting the second volume of the Pirate. He is allowed only one pair of boots per diem. he wants a clean pair, he must clean them himself, or wait till the following morning. His washerwoman mends his linen—at least she charges for it. He takes everything good-humouredly, but is a little put out if he finds he has left his latch-key in his other coat, and that he cannot getin. He is a little ruffled, also, when he discovers the laundress has not made his bed—on Christmas day, for instance. He plays only two instruments—the flute and the cornet-a-piston. He is much sought after in society, and is a great diner-out. He can tie bis handkerchief in a hundred different ways, and cuts an orange into the most impossible patterns. He is a good hand at carving, and rarely sends a goose into the opposite Jady’s lap. He makes excellent rabbits on the wall to amuse the children, and allows them to climb up his knees, reckless of his trowsers, and hang on his neck without a groan. He shines most at asupper party. He brews a bowl of punch, and mixes a lobster salad better than any man—so he says at least. He sings a good song with a noisy chorus, and makes a speech without being “ unaccustomed to _— speaking.” He runs through a person’s Health neater than anybody else, and serves up a Toast in the most glowing style, but does not stuff a society with nothing else all the evening. He is amiable to

the fair sex, and hands cups of tea and glasses of negus, without spilling them. He is in great demand as a godfather, and keeps a silver mug on hand, ready for the occasion. He enjoys his comforts, but doesn’t dine at home, for he has no cook. He studies his ease, but jumps u readily on a cold morning to answer the door, if the knock is repeate more than three times. He knows where the best dinners are to had about town, and is intimate with the shops for the best meat, the best fish, the best game, the best cigars, the best everything. He walks up the stairs of his Chambers in the dark, without falling, or tryin at the wrong door. He prides himself on knowing a good glass of port. He is the favourite stalking-horse of the husbands, who are never out late but they are sure to have been with him. Every “glass too much” is put down to him; every visit to the Docks; all the half- prices at the theatre; all the dinners and suppers, no matter where, are at his persuasion. The wives consequently bear him no great affection, and generally convey their opinion by coupling his name with the prefix “ Zhat,” very strongly italicised. His good humour, how- ever, conquers them, and he is welcome at every family table. He sees everything, is seen everywhere, and scarcely cares anything for anybody—excepting himself. His great object of life is enjoyment, and he succeeds to his heart’s content. Suddenly he is missed. He is not seen for weeks. He is entombed alive in bis dreary Chambers with the gout, and only his laundress to tend him at distant intervals. The long days, the never-ending nights, the racking pain, the cross old woman, who makes a favour of every- thing and is grateful for nothing, the want of comforts, the utter home- lessness of the place, strike a chill into his heart, and he would willingly give all his past enjoyments for one kind voice to cheer him, for one person whom he loved tobe near him. He rises from his bed an altered man. He finds out a young niece whom he has never seen. He buys a house and gives it to her, to allow him to live in it. She nurses him in all his sicknesses, and bears all his ill-humour. He leaves her his little property, is as kind to her as the gout will allow him to be, and is lamented at his death by one person, at least.—Thus lives and dies the Mopzn BACHELOR,

THE MUSIC OF THE MOB. We wish that Huttan, or Russext, or Dr. MarnzeRr, or anybody would take in hand the voices of the Mob, and make them sing in something like time or tune, if they must shout out the Marseillaise and Moorear por lar patree in the sable thoroughfares. The discordant shrieks of the juveniles, with the hoarse and beer-stricken bleatings of the men, form a far greater disturbance of the public harmony than the mere speeches of these lovers of mischief and idleness, who have no right to pretend to a voice in the country as long as their musical efforts are so contemptible as they appear when roaring out the revolu- tionary burdens of the songs imported from Paris. We met a crowd of these London gamins the other night in Fleet Street, and we never heard anything in our lives so unmusical, though most melancholy, as their attempt to sing some French air, in accordanee with the wretchedly slavish habit of imitation that the would-be sons of Freedom have lately fallen into. Can nobody teach singing in six lessons, and preserve the drum of our ear from being as constantly aroused as the drums on which the rappel is all day beaten in Paris ?

CALAMITOUS VISITATION! Tr is our agonising duty to inform a heart-rent public that the gout nas, according to the Morning Post, favoured the Jews, by confining to the bowers of Blenheim the ducal Christian, Martporoucu. We had an ignorant notion that such peers were permitted, even from the antipodes, to vote by proxy. It appears, however, to be otherwise. Or perhaps Blenheim and the gout make especial exceptions. Having, we hope, duly prepared the reader to erercise his fortitude, and read a bit of sorrow like a man, we give the subjoined :— “His Grack THE Duke oF MARLBOROUGH was prevented voting against the Jews Disabilities Bill on Thursday last, by a severe and tedious fit of gout, which has hitherto been the cause of His Grace not having yet taken his seat in the new Parliament.” Now, when we know, according to a recent calculation made by an arithmetical man, Mr. R. Y. Yates, of Liverpool, that the House of Marlborough has only cost us £12,000,000 sterling, it must be confessed that the least movement of the present Duke must be very dear to us. Therefore, we dwell upon this fit of gout as being—like the Duke’s pension—one of national interest. It is said, however, that the Duke has a peculiar dislike to Jews, and for this reason. There was, on one occasion, a bad half-crown taken at the gate of Blenheim—(it is two-and-sixpence a head to see the place)—and no argument has hitherto convinced the Duke that that copper half-crown was not put off by a guileful man of the Hebrew persuasion. His Grace, to keep his anger warm, has bad that bad half-crown nailed to his dressing-table; and every morning shaves with one eye upon his wrongs.

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. AWFUL SUFFERINGS OF A BRITISH HUSBAND. Being the Journal of an English Citizen, resident in Paris during the ate occurrences in that Capital, Tue following papers were picked up in a bottle off Havre by the Steward of The Hmerald, who, on finding that the bottle did not contain brandy, or anything that could be drunk, obligingly transmitted it with its contents to our office. The MS tremulous, commercial hand, and here and there effaced by the water, which had penetrated :— “ May 1st.—I, Joun Topps, late of 5, Little Crane Alley, Cornhill London, Drysalter, but now of 4, Rue d’Enfer (au cinguiéme), Paris, (if of anywhere when this comes to hand,) do solemnly commit this my last journal to this bottle, with the design of throwing same (if I can do it unperceived) into the Seine, in the hope that it may reach England some day; for I cannot trust the Post, and I am determined to speak the truth. Any person picking up this bottle is earnestly requested to forward same, at convenience, tomy , . (Here MS. effaced.) . . as I do not expectevertorea . . . . andamanxiousthat . . unhapp .. . _aswitnessmyhan .. . : . ” Tes. 26¢4.—Up to present date matters continue tolerably quiet. Pillaging not begun yet. Mrs. T. declares she admires attitude of mm and has been to leave card on one Georce Sanp. On telling on I did not like her calling on gentlemen known to self, but not partner, was told that Gzorce Sanp was a lady. Remarked on impro- priety of name, and was snubbed. Mrs. T. says this G. S. is emanci- pator of sex from husbands and petticoats. There is atone in Mrs, T.’s remarks, since the awful 24th, which alarms me. “ Feb, 28th.—Caught Mrs. T. again with new female newspaper, La Voix des Femmes. Met the porter, with black eye, this morning, given ’ t biVayii ' mW Mi Tih a i him by his wife, who also reads the above incendiary publication. Gave him 5f. to destroy all copies found left at lodge. Wrote this day to our House, meen, by = to return to town, as business at a stand-still, best paper not to be discounted, and consignees ruined. “* Feb, 29th.— Windows broke last night for not illuminating. Heard ‘cry of ‘/ampions!’ which did not understand, but thought much the same as ‘a /a lanterne!’ which horrid expression had read in History of Revolution (1793), consequently did not get up. Murs. T. harangued mob from window, and was applauded. How she could go out on bal- cony in such a state, cannot understand. She seems to be losing her sense of propriety. No letter from our House, which of course I expected re return. Can post be tampered with _ March 10th—Mrs. T. will wear that red cap. Porter has just informed me pair of boots left at his lodge, directed to Citoyenne Topp.es, with parcel, which he says feels like a pair of trowsers (he ts a tailor to his trade, and ought to know.) Compelled this morning to plant another Tree of Liberty. They regularly call at our house now and have me out at every d—— poplar that is planted in guartier. I told Mrs. T. what it would be, when she insisted on joining first set . was written in a regular, though | § that came to call out curé (who is our next-door neighbour) to bless their abominable work, which he did, though I heard him praying audi- bly while dressing to go out; and if that man was not in stew, I never ‘saw one, and I ought to know, having had barricade under window on 24th. “ March \1th.—It was a pair of trowsers. She is trying them on at this moment. What would her family in England think of this? I daren’t - anything. Venturing yesterday to hint I wished she ’d give up calling on her GzorGe Sanp, she threatened to denounce me! he is capable of it. “ March 12th—Mrs, T. went out early this morning, thinking me asleep. “ March 13th.—As per last entry. ** March 14¢h—As per last entry. * March 15th.— Followed Mrs. T this morning. (Here the writing is so tremulous, that it can hardly be deciphered). She has enlisted in regiment of female soldiers! They call them Les Vésuviennes. They all wear trowsers very tight in waist, and boots. They have guns, apparently genuine. Mrs. T. appears to be a sergeant or something of that kind. I saw them exercise, remaining at a distance in great- coat of porter’s. It is very dreadful! What am I to do? “She has come home. I can hear her repeating words of command in bedroom, where no doubt she is taking off those abominable—— There! ‘Stand at ease!’ ‘ Attention!’ ‘Shoulder—Hup!’ I must be firm, and put stop to this. ; . ‘ i ‘ ‘ rae “April 1st.—I resume journal after fortnight’s close confinement in cellar, where put, thanks to Mrs. T., as follows:—I locked bedroom door on morning after last entry. She must have told her infernal female commanding officer. Next morning company of Vesuviaus marched into court, and ordered porter (whose wife, it appears, is drum-major), to lead them upto our apartment in name of Republic. They put me in cellar for tyranny (they called it) and mutiny. I am certain Mrs. T. stood sentry over me for some time. “ April 4th.—I don’t care what consequences may be. One of us | must and shall give way. I may perish in the attempt, but Mrs. T.’s | family will be grateful to me in the long-run. She shall not smoke pipes after we have retired for the night, She has long forgotten all sense | T; “t}| 1 tH of propriety; but now she introduces positive discomforts into house. I hate smell of tobacco, It is all those Vesuvians. She is on guard three nights a week, and declares they all smoke in guard- room. She has also acquired habit of playing at cards and swearing, the former constantly, the latter, as yet, only occasionally, “ April 10¢h.—Mars. T. still smokes, What can I do? “ April 15th.—Another Revolution (almost) yesterday. Mrs. T. believe) concerned in it. Am not at all sure that she was not in attack on Assembly. After utterly subverting order of connubial chamber, why should females have any .i-- for legislative ditto ? “ April 17th.—Have taken bold step; I hope decisive one : denoun the Vesuvians as Communists. Perhaps, as Government is moderate, they may be broken up, and Mars, T, be brought back to sense; of duties.

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RPS ew HO rR wwe PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL April 19th.—Gracious ’evens! what have I done! Self and partner both arrested yesterday. I released this morning. Mrs. T. still in confine- ment. Poor dear woman! Bears it like an angel, being allowed tobacco. I have spent a heart-broken night. To think it is all my oing! ~ 4 il 29nd.—They will release poor Mrs. T. if I will become answer- able for her future good behaviour. I don’t know whether I am justified in doing anything of the kind, after the way she has treated me. rr i 23rd.—1 have given security for Mrs. T., having previously burnt boots and uniform, and hidden musket and bayonet. ; * April 24th.—Mxs. T. continues to behave peaceably ; but her habits give me much trouble. Smoking, I fear, has become inveterate. It ‘ used to be cigarettes. Now it is caporal: disgustingly strong and full- flavoured. vo “ May 4th —The treatment I have experienced from our House is atrocious. Letter to-day to wind up French branch of concern and come back. As if I had any ready-money ! ’ “ May 5th.—Mrs. T., I hope, improving in sense of propriety. “All up with Mrs. T. again. Club des Femmes opened last night. She got out. Passing by accident saw her on table, addressing meeting. aught words “‘a das les maris.” I am desperate. “ May 10¢h—I was desperate per last. I have no word for what I now. “Mrs. T., Mary Jane T., the woman I have known as a rather particular, and particularly well-conducted wife for fourteen years, has proposed herself at Hotel de Ville for one of the nymphs who are to precede Car of Liberty in National Féte of 21st instant. They are to Weems www (Here the MS. becomes utterly illegible, either from “tears or salt- ' water.._It must have been this shock which drove Mr. TT’. to the bottle. ] { UBERT “ The Women the Best Judges.” So says Sir Fretful Plagiary; and the exhortation of MaRrtanne EN to the mob, a few days ago, is a lively evidence of Sir Fretful’s truth, For Marianng, very drunk—and sometimes people bring up, without knowing it, pearls of wisdom from the Red Sea of wine— Mantanye, it was given in evidence before the Lorp Mayor, called upon her sex “to follow her example, and turn out the Whigs!” And for this noble spirit-rousing address, the heroine was locked up. The Maid of Sarragossa will go down to posterity—MarIANNE MaRREN | the Road. went to the station-house. An unjust world, my masters ! Innocence in Parliament. Mz. DrumMoxp—pure Arcadian !—speaking against the alteration of the Navigation Laws, ssid— You may be rich, but you will be contemptible.” For our own part, we should like to see the rich man who, in England, could be contemptible. Mapame T'ussaup would make any amount of money by showing him. DRURY LANE SPECTRAL FUND. Tue Annual Dinner of the Ghost of Drury Lane Theatrical Fund took place last week at the Freemasons’ Tavern. The shadow of a distin- guished Duke presided on the melancholy occasion. There was a tolerable show of misty visitors; and the dinner was eaten seriously and noiselessly. ** Not a knife was heard, not a three-pronged fork, As the victuals were silently buried ; With never a fizz flew the Champagne cork, Nor steward, nor waiter was hurried,” When the dinner was over, and the waiters had melted from the room, the distinguished noble Ghost in the Chair rose, and speakin thin—as ghosts are wont—and with a pallid smile upon its face, an never blushing a bit at the sarcasm, begged to propose the “‘ Prosperity of the British Drama.” Hereupon the “ Dead March in Saul” was played from an inner apartment, and had a remarkably impressive effect. Several Ghosts of actors took out their pocket-handkerchiefs, and wept. After a pause, for the spectres a little to recover themselves, the toast was again given, which all the Shadows present drank in solemn silence out of empty glasses. After this, the ghost of Mz. Hartey—spectral Master of the Fund— rose to make its annual speech. Immediately behind the ghost was exhibited a transparency, containing faithful portraits of several of the horses, late actors at Drury-Lane Theatre. These faded away, and then appeared the portrait of ALEXANDRE Dumas. ALEXANDRE also faded ; and then dawned in the transparency, in very bold letters—the work of some evil genius—this brief, but malevolent counsel :— ‘* Gentlemen, take care of your pockets!” This occasioned a slight movement among the Ghosts. The company stirred as stir the leaves when autumn sighs among them. When perfect silence was restored, the spectral Master proceeded to make its speech :— “May it please you, my Ghost Duke, my Shadow Lords and Gentle- men,” said the spectre, in a high, cutting voice, vibrating with fun like an east-wind through a key-hole, “it is again my delicious privilege to address you: itis, also, my delicious delight—whilst revolutions are shaking the world, as though the uneasy earth were stretching herself, and now tossing upon one side and now upon the other (Spasms of laughter)—it is my especial bliss to see, firm as rocks, the distinguished patrons of what was once Drury Lane Theatrical Fund. As for the real Drury Lane actors, one company has just: departed for their forei stables; and, at the present moment—M. Dumas being: manager of the boards where Garrick trod—(General flutter of Shadows)—an artist is about to write beneath the statue of SHAKSPEARE, in golden words, ‘Ici on parle Francais!’ Nevertheless, when I reflect upon the brilliant arena of the actors’ professional triumphs, and also remember that Her Magesty Victorta, Queenof the United Kingdom, Isle of Manand Dogs, and Berwick-upon-'l'weed, guards in her spotless diadem the Fund of Drury Laneas the brightest jewel of her triple ccown—when I remember, that Her Masesty has this day sent us £50, when, until very lately, the royal donation was wont to be £100—how can I, even as the Spectral Master of a Fund for actors in nubibus, how can I do otherwise than feel; I ask it fearlessly of the Noble Shadows, how is it possible for me to do otherwise than feel?” (Here the Ghost struck itself upon the breast, making such a hole in itself, that the daylight shone through it. However, after a few moments, the Ghost closed up again like smoke, and continued). ‘It has been said by the malevolent, that this dinner in aid of actors of a theatre that no longer exists, is mere moonshine. I mourn, most Noble Shadow, for what were once my species, to say that I have known the word ‘Gammon’ flung at the object of this dinner. Saving your nobie presence, I hurl back the epithet. (Whist- ling cheers)—and with that confidence which is far above blushing, I ask you all to open your heart-strings—I mean your purse-strings—to remember the poor player that may in the next century, perhaps, be at Drury Lane—to think of the sere and yellow leaf—the intellectual Drama —the imperishable renown of the Crown of England—O. P., and the British Sceptre—Daviv Garrick—habeas corpus—the Drury Lane Fund, that was, and the British Drama,” y A beautiful shade, named Miran, here warbled The Light of other ays. As the plate went round for the subscriptions, a ghost called Sms Reeves sang very finely, and with touching significance, Let us take Every Ghost remained till cockcrow ; and then, with spectral Haney, “vanished like a guilty thing away.” THE REPEAL “HANDS.” Mitcuet boldly said—for we must praise the boldness of the man —that he left behind him—“ three hundred hands ready to follow his course.’ Three hundred “hands,” no doubt, and not a ¢rump among ’em.

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246 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. THE CLERKENWELL POETS. In the recent processions, or rather prowls, which have taken | Th place in London, a poet has been the most distinguished actor, and indeed the only one who has evinced any desire to stick to his post —a lamp-post—when the rumour of the arrival of the police has been prevalent. We have had an opportunity of seeing some of the poet’s productions, and we beg to add a specimen. It is somewhat on the | model of a song, in a little book called Voices from the Crowd, entitled “WAIT A LITTLE LONGER.” There’s A. 1 coming, boys, there ’s A, 1 coming, But at his staff we’ll only laugh, Though A. 1’s ayn a What care we if we go to bed, Having received a broken head, ' From A. 1—coming ? Let us disdain the crack or kick, If the Police prove stronger ; There ’ll be some pockets yet to pick, Don’t hurry, then, to cut your stick— Wait a little longer. There’s a Special now coming, boys, a Special now coming; Let’s knock the hat extremely flat Of the Special now coming ! We’ll teach him how To-stop our row, _ The Special now coming. _ His interference has been rash, *Gainst us, who are the stronger; There ’!! be some windows yet to smash, And p’rhaps some tills to ease of cash— Wait a little longer! SHAKSPEARE AN ALIEN. ~ ArexanDRE Dumas has obligingly consented to leave his hundred feuilletons, his Monte Christo, his Liberté, his Mois, his politics. made romantic, his duels, his de//e France, his everything, to come to London and teach us French Dramas. We are to be instructed in French history in the course of two weeks. Dramas, too, are to last for two nights. You enter at the reign of CLovis, and come out at the Taking of the Bastille. You travel through history at the rate of a hundred years an act, and do not feel in the least giddy, only a little confused, when you arrive at the end of your historical journey. . To make the arrangements as convenient as possible, the stalls will be fitted up as French beds, and persons have been engaged to go round and collect the boots, so that they may be cleaned by the following morning. The English actors, it is said, have been engaged for this particular line ; and some of them, the tragedians especially, get up a very gees polish, considering the short “study” they have necessarily had. , e poor fellows « are glad to turn their hands to anything. Several — of the “ Walking Gentlemen” have - entered them- selves as box-keepers, and have laid in a stock of nightcaps, though the bill, it is declared by persons who have been at the Théatre Histo- rique at Paris, will answer the same purpose, if carefully wrapt round the head. Precautions have been taken that no one shall disturb the . rest, and any one found snoring will e immediately turned out,’ and not a penny of , his money returned. bignight-shade will burn all night upon the stage, and Compton, as Dog- berry, will walk round the gallery and slips, and announce the hours. Shaving will be allowed . : at eight o’clock, and the French actors have kindly agreed, on this occasion only, to shave the English ones. Breakfi ast-stalls, with real French rolls, not from M. Dumas’s repertoire, but made as light as possible, will be opened in the lobbies. The newspapers will be sup- plied as soon as published, and every convenience giver to persons who wish during the day to follow their business. Everything promises a happy two nights’ amusement; and one arrangement we are sure will give universal satisfaction—“ Forty winks will be allowed between the fortieth and forty-first acts.” One great difficulty has been experienced in finding check-takers who would give sureties not to go to sleep during the forty- eight hours ; but this has been surmounted at last, and persons have been found who, it can be proved, are perfectly wide awake at all times. One is an old clerk of the House of Commons, another a manager, of the Mosaic persuasion, another the waterman of the Haymarket cabstand, another the porter at Evans’s, whilst the remainder have been made up of old lawyers and bill-discounters, who go in “just for the fun of the thing.’ A prosperous sleepy season is expected, and ‘ thirty beds have ade been taken for the first two nights’ perform- ances. There was an evening rehearsal yesterday of box-keepers and orange-women, and the latter are now perfect in calling out “ Apples, oranges, ginger-beer, a pillow, or a cotton nightcap.” The Golden-Mouthed Mullen. Art Conciliation Hall, a few days ago—some eight-and-forty hours after the Shearwater had departed for Spike Island with JoHNn Mitcuet—the Rev. FarHer MULLEN rose, and yelled :— ‘* We will take a vow to dig a gulf deep as hell between the Whigs and the Trish people (groans). The name “* Whig’’ should be as a scarecrow in Ireland—it should be used by mothers to frighten troublesome children. A Galway jury declared that Lorp Jonn Russet was guilty of murder. He (Ma, MuLLen) now charged him with millions of murders (yel/s).” Are there no strait-jackets to be had in Ireland? No men bold enough to catch madmen like MULLEN, cram them into worsted confines, carry them off to an asylum—and when their heads are shaved, and they are properly cooled and lowered by medicine, is there no oakum for them to pick, no stones to break? Yet, we would be tender to the lunatics; and when they became harmless—their sanity is not to be hoped for—we would, for a holiday, give each a wisp or so of straw, wherewith to plait a crown for the imaginary King of Ireland after Repale. THE IRISH SCZVOLA. Mr. Mrrcuet, on his trial, compared himself to Mutrus Scavota. There is indeed this resemblance between Scavona and MITCHEL. Scavo.a certainly burnt his whole hand; Mirc#en as certainly has | burnt his fingers. Printed by William Bradbury, of Ne. 6, York Place, Stoke Newington, and Frederick Mullett Evans, of No. 7, Church Row, Stoke Newington, botn in the County of Middlesex, Printers, at their ore in Lombard Street, in the Precinct of Whitefriars, in the City of London, and Publish y = at No. 8, Fleet Street, in the Parishof St. Bride, in the City of London.—Sarusgpar, une lth, 1845, NN eee

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ww PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL 247 A LITTLE DINNER AT TIMMINS’S. Tue next persons whom little Mrs, Trmmrys was bent upon asking, | Tr were Mr. and Mrs. Joun Rowpy, of the firm of Srumpy, Rowpy, anpD Oo. of ens Gardens, of the Prairie, Putney, and of Lombard treet, City. Mrs. Troms and Mrs. Rowpy had been brought up at the same school together, and there was always a little rivalry between them, from the day when they contended for the French prize at school, to last week, when each had a stall at the Fancy Fair for the benefit of the Daughters of Decayed Muffin-men; and when Mrs. Trumins danced against Mrs. Rowpy in the Scythe Mazurka at the Polish Ball, headed by Mrs. Hue Stasuer. Rowpy took twenty-three pounds more than Truss in the Muffin transaction (for she had possession of a kettle- holder worked by the hands of R—y—lty, which eas crowds to her stall) ; but in the Mazourk Rosa conquered ; she has the prettiest little foot possible (which in a red boot and silver heel looked so lovely that even the Chinese Ambassador remarked it), whereas Mrs. Rowpy’s foot is no trifle, as Lonp CoRNBURY acknowledged when it came down on his Lordship’s boot tip as they danced together amongst the Scythes. “Those people are ruining themselves,” said Mrs. Joun Rowpy to her husband, on receiving the pink note. It was carried round by that rogue of a buttony page in the evening, and he walked to Brob- dingnag Gardens and in the Park afterwards, with a young lady who is kitchen-maid at 27, and who is not more than fourteen years older than little Buttons. \ NY Ni Ni ‘S “Those people are ruining themselves,” said Mrs. Jonn to her husband. “ Rosa says she has asked the Buncays.” fi “ Buneays, indeed! Trams was always a tuft-hunter,” said Rowpy, who had been at College with the barrister, and who, for his own part, has no more objection to a Lord than you or I have; and adding, “ Hang him, what business has Ae to be giving parties?” allowed Mrs. Rowpy, nevertheless, to accept Rosa’s invitation. “When I go to business to-morrow, I will just have a look at Mr. Frrz’s account,” Mr, Rowpy thought, “and if it is overdrawn, as it poe why” . . . The announcement of Mrs. Rowpy’s broug’ here put an end to this agreeable train of thought, and the banker and his lady 5 into it to joina snug little family party of two-and-twenty, given by Mr. and Mrs. Seconpcuor, at their great house on the other side of the Park. “ Rowpys 2, Buneays 3, ourselves and mamma 3, 2 SawyERs,” cal- ted little Rosa. “GezwNERAL Gurr,” Rosa continued, “eats a great deal, and is very stupid, but he looks well at a table, with his star and ribbon; let us put Aim down!” and she noted down “Sim Tuomas and Lapy Gutrtn, 2. Lorp CastLENoonte, 1.” “You will make your party abominably genteel and stupid,” greed Trwuins. “Why don’t you ask some of our old friends? Old Mrs. PoRTMAN has asked us twenty times, I am sure, within the last two “And the last time we went there, there was pea-soup for dinner!” Mrs. Troumuns said, with a look of ineffable scorn. “Nobody can have been kinder than the Hopces have always been to us; and some sort of return we might make, I think.” _ .— indeed! A pretty sound it is on the staircase to hear Mr. and Mrs. Once and the Miss Opees, pronounced by BrttiTER, who always leaves his h’s out. No,no; see attornies at your Chambers, my dear—but what could the ee creatures do in our society?” And so, one by one, Trmmins’s old friends were tried and eliminated by Mars. MMINS, just as if she had been an Irish Attorney-General, and they so many Catholics on Mr. MircHeEt’s Jury. Mrs. Fitzroy insisted that Oe party should be of her very best company. Funnymay, the Great Wit, was asked, because of his jokes ; and Mrs. Burr, on whom he practises; dnd Potrer, who is aske because oureey else asks him; and Mr. Ranvitie Ranvitze of the Foreign Office, who might give some news of the Spanish squabble ; and Boruersy, who has suddenly sprung up into note because he is intimate with the French Revolution, and visits Lepru-RoLiin and Lamartine. And these, with a couple more whoare amis de la maison, made up the twenty, whom Mrs. Timmins thought she might safely invite to her little dinner. But the deuce of it was, that when the answers to the invitations came back, everybody accepted! Here was a pretty quandary. How they were to get twenty into their dining-room, was a calculation which poor TrmMins could not solve at all; and he paced up and down the little room in dismay. *“ Pooh!” said Rosa with a laugh; “your ‘sister Buancue looked very well in one of my dresses, last year ; and you know how stout she is. We will find some means to accommodate them all, depend upon it.” _ Mrs. Joun Rowny’s note to dear Rosa, accepting the latter’s invita- tion, was a very gracious and kind one: an . Fitz showed it to her husband when he came back from Chambers. But there was another note which had arrived for him by this time from Mr. Rowpy—or rather from the firm: and to the effect that Mz. F. Trwmrns had over- drawn his account £62 18s. 6d., and was requested to pay that sum to his obedient servants, Stumpy, Rowpy, and Co. , And Trams did not like to tell his wife that the contending parties in the Lough Neagh and Lough Corrib Railroad had come to a settlement, and that the fifteen guineas a day had co: uently deter- mined. “TI have had seven days of it, though,” he thought ; “and that will be enough to pay for the desk, the p ~H and the glasses, and make all right with Stumpy anp Rowpy.” THE PORCUPINE WITH MANY FRIENDS. Tue Herald, with its accustomed sagacity, has discovered the cause of Sirk Henry Butwer’s triumph in the Commons. He belongs to literature! (How low is this in the serene eyes of a newspaper mag- nifico!) The ex-ambassador is the porcupine with many friends. No sooner is he threatened to be carried away by astream of eloquence; by “ A river that hath burst its Banxes,”’ than all his porcupine friends rally to his aid. All sorts of kindred quills rustle to help him. The Herald proceeds to number them :— *¢ Then again there is Mr. Saret. The hon. and learned Master of the Mint is not merely a personal friend of Sia H. Butwer, but a brother author ; and if the Right Hon. Mr. lanes, the Speaker, had eyes and ears for all desirous to be heard, there were Mruyesss and others to rush to the rescue of a suffering scribe, [poor goosequill wretch] in the enforced absences of the eloquent and learned Macavay, and the late Member for Canterbury, the accomplished Mr, Sypvey SmyTHE.” With so many literary men in Parliament—and with other probable Members, is it to be wondered at that the Commons do not, and will not, anes the people of England? There ought to be an express law prohibiting all men from seats in Parliament who can write, allowing ~ ility only to those persons who can make their mark. t was urged in the Pos¢ as a complaint against the Literary Fund, that at the last dinner no notice whatever was taken of the a press. Let such omission be henceforth remedied. At the next fes- tival let the oe man of the Herald be stood during dinner upon the table, with his own paper fashioned into a coronet, and his sceptre uill—wherewith he rules the world—stuck in his button-hole. So istinguished a member of the newspaper press ought not to be neglected at a banquet of letters. The Approach of Summer. A Rhapsody. Everytuine betokens Summer! The fly with fatal curiosity skim- ming the surface of the milk; the blouse of brown holland—with the inviting words “ Look here!”—floating in the breeze; the five million straw bonnets labelled “ Now’s your time! all at 3s. and 9d.” thrown carelessly into the window; the dust up to make itself the “ apple of your eye;” and indeed everything betokens the ne of the saucy Summer. The London fountains begin to run with ginger- beer, and Rome rises on the ruins of Pompeii in the Gardens of the Surrey Zoological. Activity reigns in the Thames Navy, and pro- motions are numerous from the cab-stand to the paddle-box, on the top of which the cab-driver of to-day will become the captain of to-morrow. VOL, XIV. BB

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| all the hares and woodcocks, and also the PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL THE RAPPEL. | the hon. Member for Manchester coming forward, and proposing free trade in pheasants and partridges. The next thing would be to put down foxes, and so destroy one of our greatest national sports.” Mr. Buck of course includes hare and pheasant and partridge- shooting among those national sports of which he describes fox-hunting as the greatest. But hare-shooting, according to him, is no sport for the sons of small farmers: small farmers’ sons, then, in his opinion, form no part of the nation. Moreover, fox-hunting is one of the greatest of our national sports; consequently it is one of the chief amusements of the English people. It follows that fox-hunters and the English people are convertible terms; and also, that Mr. Buck and his brother sportsmen may be compared to the celebrated three tailors of Tooley Street. Oh, Mr. Buck! Are these the times for upholding the Game Laws —for taking serious political account of hares, pheasants, partridges, and foxes? You are indeed a rare old Buck: it is only a pity that such Bucks are not rarer. DREADFUL DESTITUTION. As Emigration is being publicly talked about, we think there is an English colony that deserves a prior right to all others. It is close at d, the expense of transportation is very moderate, and it has numerous claims upon English sympathies. e mean Boulogne-sur- Mer. The inhabitants have always bebaved in the most liberal spirit to Englishmen; they have never overcharged them; ‘in fact they have treated them more like fellow-countrymen than foreigners. They have always done everything to make them comfortable, and have yielded to their wishes in the same generous way that they have invariably con- formed to their wants. Late accounts bring us sad intelligence of the | distress of this once-flourishing town. The lodgings are to let; the | hotels have scarcely a bed filled; the table-d’hétes are deserted, and the 'custom-house officers, whose courtesy must be remembered by every | traveller, have nothing to do but to search their own pockets; and the Wuen we first heard of the Rappel, we thought it was only a —_ Frenchified method of pronouncing the Hibernian word “ Repale.” However, it is a cry, apparently, that is making just as much noise in| Paris as the one in Dublin, and is every bit as hollow and as foolish. | The French beat it at all hours, and it is thought to have superseded all! the bells and door-knockers in France. If you want any one to come to you, you beat the rappel, and they run out in hundreds; though, with the more timid portion of society, such as the portiers, and the old| rentiers of the Marais, it has rather a repelling effect. By the bye, it has been suspected that at the very early hour the rappel sometimes is beaten, that it must be done in bed. This is very likely; for, as no Frenchman thinks of going to bed without his drum at his side, it may be sounded as a signal of distress that he wants his shaving water, or that he is waiting for his boots. All this is very alarming, and is doubtlessly very trying to the nerves of persons who have been accustomed to the quiet: of London, where not a “Sweep” is heard, without breaking an Act of Parliament. It is true we have the dustman’s bell and the muffin bell; but what are these tinkling sounds, which are but pleasantly suggestive of the sheep browsing on Primrose Hill, to the deafening ran-tan-plan-ran-tan-tan-plan, which does | not allow you to sit on your chair for two minutes together, without | giving you such a shock that electricity would be pleasant to it? For our- selves, if we were made, as a punishment, to go to Paris, we would rush to Mr. Burrorp’s Panorama, and lodge there till the term of our durance had expired. We should have all the beautiful scenery of Paris, should witness the planting of a ‘l'ree of Liberty, without being subject to that confounded rappel all day, to give us a headache all night. We enjoy a fine view all the more without noise, and we advise all travellers in- tending to visit Paris this year, to take the route of Leicester Square. It is the cheapest trip we know, and there is not a single drum on the premises. } 'must otherwise result to the inhabitants. pursuit is not of the most pleasant, as, search as they will, they can find nothing in them. The town is just asempty. There is not an English- man in the place! This is very melancholy, and we hope Government will take speedy measures to avert the dreadful consequences that They should give every inducement to emigrants to flock there; and probably if excursions were got up which carried passengers free of expense, it might pour into the town a sufficient number of tourists to keep the hotels open and the waiters alive for a few weeks longer. We should recollect how dear Boulogne has always been to the British traveller, and should rush over to repay a few of the obligations we owe the hospitable ville, haute as well as basse. We hope all those who make a business of pleasure will recollect that if there is one place more in want of their presence, and where the inhabitants will receive them with greater pleasure than another, it is their old summer friend, Boulogne. They need not be reminded to take plenty of money with them, as it follows that the more they take, the more they will be wel- come. They will have the satisfaction of spending it in the noble cause of Charity. After Events. Merrernicn’s flight has been followed by that of Ferprnanp. The Minister’s old saying, of “ After me, the Deluge,” should be altered now into “ After me, the Emperor.” Who will go next, it is impossible to be, as an Irishman would say, “after knowing.” By the bye, we much prefer Dunur’s saying to Mertreryicu’s. The poor fellow, when he heard of “the Deluge,” exclaimed quite indignantly, “ Pooh ! What’s that! After me, the Sheriff’s officer.” PANIC IN THE JOKE MARKET. THE SENTIMENTS OF A ’SQUIRE | WE understand that there are no less than five hundred punsters out : 7 , | of employ in London alone at the present time, to say nothing of the Tere is at least one fine old English gentleman, who, albeit one of | Vast amount of jokers out of work in the provinces. In Manchester there the olden time, possesses a seat in the modern House of Commons, and | are no less than filty first-rate wags, working half-price, and several of who, on the debate on the Game Certificates for Killing Hares Bill, the old hands who have been constantly employed in spinning yarns, delivered himself of a remarkably fine old English speech. Mr. Buck | are literally without employment. “* Was convinced that many of the sons of small farmers in the county he represented, were already demoralised by running about the courtry after hares and woodcocks.” | : . ae The Picture of an Advertised Gentleman. If the pursuit of hares and woodcocks is demoralising, what demo- | : ralisation must exist in the House of Commons, so many of whose; His form was enveloped in a “ Registered Paletot,” with a “ Paragon Members are addicted to it! How demoralised those same gentlemen will | Vest” and “Victoria l'rowsers.” His neck was encircled by a “ Revoiving become two months hence, in consequence of running about the moors | Cravat,” his bosom displayed a ‘“‘ Corazza Shirt,” whereon glittered a after grouse! How obvious is the conclusion, that we ought to destroy | splendid pin of the “Richest Mosaic.” His hands were encased in snowy grouse, for the interests of | Berlin; his chavssure consisted of “Pannuscorium;” he wore the Superior morality! ‘This inference is rational, but it is not Mr. Buck’s. “ Chapeau Francais” at nine-and-six, surmounting the “Gentleman’s own “He believed that this Bill was intended as the first step to the annihilation of the | Head of Hair, or Invisible Peruke;” and his parted lips disclosed an Game Laws. This Bill permitted free trade in hares; and next year, they would have | “‘ Entirely New Description of ‘l'eeth.”

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ge- ng for ——T ww Pw PUNCH. OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 249 “TIT. That she chooses the watering-place for the season. THE WOMEN’S CHARTER. “TV. That she be never called upon to sit up; and further, that she be never solicited for a latch-key. We believe in the speedy freedom of the female sex. That| ‘“ V. That the husband invariably smoke in the garden, (if no garden, beautiful half of the creation—and, like the rosy side of a | n0 smoke.) a. the much better half—has too long been in bonds.| “* VI. That the Duke or WeLiINGTon be godfather to the first he cunning, the selfishness, and the cowardice of man | child.” have, apart et ig owen operated 1+ aoe ores years to crush the lovely flower, or at best that he might 6 wear it—as one may say, in his button-hole as little more = beamed CHARTER. than a fragrant, blooming ornament for a brief holiday.| “I. That weeds—with the earliest despatch—be turned into orange- These days are fast guing—dying upon the save-all of | flowers.” Time. At length women are beginning to know theirown| ye Widow's Charter, it will be perceived, is only one point; but as strength, at length the hour of equality is about to ‘ : a : pre Salealeat tk lees struck, the world will really for reap nag co pene all the points of the wife, her Charter may be said the first time know what’s o’clock. The women, be it known then, have resolved upon| Our readers will be glad to learn that the authorities are fully alive a Charter; atriple Charter, for Maid—Wife—and Widow. | to the objects of the very dangerous individuals about to collect their Each ition of life is to rest upon its seven points. | forces in Kensington Gardens. The Life Guards and Blues will be At present, we are only enabled to give them: but we | called out; and it is further said that the “ Duke ’—in his own quiet, ing has been determined upon; it will take place in Kensington Gardens, under the very eye of the military—within the very smell of gunpowder—to shew the world that Women, at least, are not afraid of soldiers. We have, as the earnest and uncompromising advocate both of the Rights of Woman, and of setting Woman to Rights, been favoured with a placard, printed im gold letters upon white satin (whieh placard it is our intention to have wo! up into a waistcoat); and of which the subjoined is an ink-and-paper copy :— “WOMEN OF THE UNIVERSE! ** Since the first pippin was bitten, it has been the ennning of Man to talk to us of our duties. The time has now arrived that we should speak of our rights ! “ Why should the feast of the good things of this world be given to men—and why should we, like children after dinner, be only brought in with the dessert? “The hour is arrived when we should throw back the pippin in man’s face; when we should repudiate the dominion exercised so many thousand years to our subjection,—when women should have their Charter, full of points, like a pincushion. “ Therefore, every woman—who is henceforth to be considered every woman’s sister—is invited to hold herself in readiness to meet in Kensington Gardens on a day to be hereafter privately appointed. _ “ As the enemy [it is pn Son further to particularize} may muster in great force, every sister is entreated to come armed ; yes, armed—to the teeth. She will therefore see it expedient to wear new bonnet strings, (if possible, a new bonnet). She must further not fail to dress in her best gown; and further, to bring with her any bonnet or shawl that she may consider to have the most fatal effect upon the enemy ! “Every woman will also provide herself with a serviceable parasol : which—for sharpshooting—is occasionally found of the most efficient use. “It is moreover expressly required of every single woman, and of every widow, that sbe do not appear upon the ground without bringing with her a stout substantial wedding-ring (with unmistakeable Hall- mark), to the effect that, should the enemy attack us—the single captives may instantly be tried by martial law, and with the speediest benefit of clergy be condemned to a settlement for life. (A parson will be in attendance.) . WomEn,—Be ready to appear in full dress (if possible) at six hours’ notice ! “P.S. No curl-papers can be admitted to sororize.” “THE MAID’S CHARTER. are ppy to inform our readers (Women, of course) that | energetic way—has ordered the Bands to keep the ground. a magni meet “T, That unlimited pocket-money should begin at sixteen. “II. That when, by the selfish neglect of the worst part of the | species—whom to name is often to blush—the question is not put, it | shall be onerous upon the spinster to put the said question herself. “IIL. That she shall be permitted to break off a match either at the | beginning, the middle, or just at the end, with no liability for an Action | for Breach. “TV. That no such indulgence be granted to the other party; and | that transportation be added to damages. “V. That neither father nor mother be asked for consent,—except | by way of compliment, when it is known they have no objection to the | gentleman. “VI. That when the marriage is solemnized, the Duke or WELLING- TON shall give away the bride.’ “THE WIFE'S CHARTER. *T. That the Honeymoon shall last six months. “II. That the amount of household expenses be fixed by her; with an unlimited allowance for extras. i Me ae . pA } j \ GAY yh If Hi NY fi: j Mio % Pom ' ‘sill A NEW RUNNYMEDE. JOBSON IN THE SUBURBS. Our old friend Jonson,‘of Ramsgate, who dresses up like the Admiral in Black-Fyed Susan, and declares himself commissioned by the Govern- ment to sell penny Pickwicks at threepence each, and regular book- muslin, under the pretext that the former have been smuggled from the Havannahs, and the latter from India—our old friend Jonson, we repeat, has set an example that has lately been followed at Kensington and Hammersmith. Some individuals have taken the Assembly-rooms at each town for three days, to give the nobility of those places an opportunity of purchasing the manufactures of their native land at the prices of foreign rarities. Worsted comforters have been disguised as Turkish turban-pieces, direct from the backs of the Llama; and several muffs, raw from the hide of the Leicester Square Cat, have been offered to human muffs as rare specimens stripped from the downy chests of the Cassowaries on the banks of the Ganges. We believe that the Kensington nobility and the Hammersmith Aristocracy have not embraced very eagerly the liberal offer that has been made to them, nor do we hear that a collateral appeal to the Fulham Oligarchy has been much more successful. We can only say that, if the goods represented as smuggled were really found in the hands of smugglers, the contrabandists of this country give themselves extraordinary pains to introduce, in an indirect manner, those very articles that might have free admission to England, inasmuch as they happen to have been there before, and are entitled to the privilege of visiting their own country. There must be a great deal of ridiculous smuggling going on for mere smuggling’s sake, if the collections of seized goods offered to the public by the self-styled Government Contractors may be relied on as genuine seizures. IRISH SYMPATHISERS. WE imagine that Mr. Joun O’Connett will soon be in a position to sympathise with Irish landlords. As Conciliation Hall seems likely to a broken up, it is probable that he will know what it is not to get | s rent.

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250 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. ec Magistrate. “ Now Str, WHAT DO you want?” Nervous Gent. “I BEG YOUR PARDON, SiR; BUT I wIsH TO BE SWORN IN as A Co—Cu—Cuartist. I mean as—a—Srp—Sr— Spectra, C—ConstTaBLe.” THE Prologue. Ox, Whigs and Whiglings, let me speak : Chance after chance has passed away, And we’ve been waiting many a week, For all you said you’d do some day. And much amaze hath crossed my mind To see you in your pleasant doze On Treasury Benches, and behind, A country full of wants and woes. And so I watched you, till at last, Marking your coolness, I grew warm, And an old fairy-legend cast, For your sakes, in a novel form. The Sleeping House. New worlds grow old, old worlds grow new, Kings, firms, and people rise and fall ; The House is stil! the Sones you knew— In act or speech no change at all! Rumours come now and then, ’tis said, Whispers what’s paning out of doors, Like hints and shakings of the maid, To one who ’neath the blanket snores. Here soft repose, in what concerns The public, reigneth night and day; There ’s no one reads the long returns Which some one’s moving for, alway ; Here, not of this age, but the last, In a somnambulistic strain Protection twaddles of the past, And dreams the Corn Law’s come again. A Fairy Cale for the Times. Like parent hen upon her eggs, Each Member o’er his crotchet broods, And whether on (or off) his legs, Bores drearily ; no stir intrudes, Scarce e’en when goes a batch of kings; And much more stagnant seemeth all, Than would seem possible, with things In any but this Sleeping Hall. All round, ideas shoot and grow Like ivy’s close and clinging wood ; Fearless o’er Church and State they go, O’er true and false, o’er bad and good; And thick abuses—growth unclean— Close-matted round the doorways climb, And through them, here and there, just seen, The glories of the better Time! When will this reign of Nod expire, And Act and Work be born again? When will the sleeping House require New measures, fitting for new men? Here all is sleepy, stale, and flat ; “What has been, must be,” still the plan: Hence, Whig and Tory, Rad and Rat, And make way for “the Coming Man!” The Sleeping Beauty. Session on Session, in his seat He sitting, since a date unknown, From feet to head, from head to feet, Obstructions of all sorts have grown. SLEEPING BEAUTY OF ST. STEPHEN’. | *Gainst the red box his back reclined, On Treasury cushions snugly curled, | The sleeping Premier’s eyes are blind, | And ope not on the stirring world. | He sleeps! men’s comments are not heard | Jn Whitehall Chambers far apart : | Nor seats nor salaries are stirred— | Things closest to each Whigling’s heart. He sleeps! on every side up-swe. Griefs, groans, and grumblings ill supprest ; | He sleeps, nor dreams but all is well— A perfect Whig, in perfect rest. The Arrival. In Politics ’tis well to know, hose who would win must learn to wait ; Trains Parliamentary are slow, | And precious things come precious late. | He travels by a faster coach, A novel flag he hath unfurled! | The Coming Man! of whose approach | DisRaezi hath warned the world. He gazes on the gallant dead, | Their epitaph in Hansarp reads, | This notion flashes through his head— “They tried with words, I’ll try with deeds.” Strange things out of strange places hie; | From all sorts of snug nests about, | The oddest sorts of creatures fly, But he bears on, nor fears their rout.

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Page 269

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 253 Onward, still onward, till he draws And, what’s most singular of all, Within St. Stephen's sleeping Hall ; | Three several Whigs their places kept. The Departure. Hig presse Bere, Sehess 5 eee, Old rites broke down, old forms slipt through, | And on “the Coming Man” he leant, To him that soundest sleeps of And his support straight made him bold, inisters even oped their eyes, To wake him were a famous lark !— ‘ 2 : DisRAELI good-humoured grew, And past Finality they went, _ “My'Lortyee trea ted || Homn doquenh and Sipuce wise, | Along ny pany Jolin ld Don’t think that other folks must be!” | (Thi sctually tos fact) ” Till old Reforms loomed small and dim, | And Morretu, in the unwonted rush, On—on—into the brighter day, , The Revival Carried a Sanitary Act. The Happy Premier followed him ! ’ And, last of all, the Premier woke, . “I'd sleep another hundred year, _ A touch—a pinch! The charm was snapt. | _ From his long snooze himself upreared, , O Coming Man, for chance like this !” There rose a buzz of tongues and clocks, | And yawned, and rubbed his eyes, and spoke— Don’t go to sleep again, my dear, And cheers, and Hears!” and doors that | ne ¢ po men cleared ! B. all — soon, once 0 gael clapp | What’s this ou’re all asleep, my Lords ; o’er them, an unwaning star, And boxes thumped with sudden knocks. | _ To work ’tis time that we should Clap — Shone England’s glory ~~ renown ; A turn for business seized the Hall, | The Cabinet, with candid words, And Stocks were constantly at par, Confessed they might have ta’en a nap. And joy—from Wide-awake to Crown! New brooms with sudden fierceness swept, THE VERNON GALLERY. (A DESIGN TO BE STUDIOUSLY AVOIDED FOR THE PROPOSED GALLERY.) THE way an English Government patronises the Fine Arts is by | of architecture, we may have a building composed of a complete dinner accepting pictures and then building ugly mews, which it calls a service, so that if at any time the English Masters should feel them- Gallery, to shut them up in. If it does purchase a picture itself, it is | selves rather “dry,” they would only have to go above head and help either a friendly job, to put a few thousands into the pocket of some themselves to a friendly glass. We have mustard and pepper. pots at Lord who is rather distressed for a little loose cash; or else it buys a | one Gallery ; we trust the architect (whoever he may be) of the other bad “copy” at the price of a good “original.” Now we think the will not fall head over ears into a set of tumblers and decanters, for if very least a Government can do, after receiving a magnificent gift, is to he does, the result must inevitably be a tremendous “smash.” We show a grateful sense of its value by giving it handsome warehouse- wonder when we are to have a Gallery or a Statue that shall not bea room. We hope, above all things, that the cruet example of the National | disgrace to the nation, and a source of ridicule to foreigners? Where Gallery will be carefully avoided; or else, following out the same style ‘is the “Coming Man” of the Fine Arts? OMNIBUS INGENUITY. | PARIS. Muc# confusion has arisen since the reduction of Omnibus fares. | From our spondent. It was for a long time a matter of dispute which was the precise spot | Pr eaninme ) of Trafalgar Square, and it almost required an Act of Parliament tode-| Wy Lepru-Roxuin will become a Moderate—when it shall answer termine the exact boundary line of Charing Cross. These difficulties, how- | },j urpose better than being a Revolutionist ever, have been got over, and, we are glad to say, without bloodshed;| The Bank of France will resume cash payments—when it can convert but another obstacle has iately occupied their disputatious place. The | its fifty millions of protested bills into bullion. gen cpr my adn trepen ut oe pegeger one | “Trae ml we trapgu—when the playing at Revolution cases to be , at, § : me Ol elty to a Frenchman. a A gp ale a 2 dn = or Pong The Ouvriers will not object to the presence of foreign workmen— to bottom. On om ~'s of this Brobdignagian figure is printed, S a yy a os ed y vil of hee = of wee 8 h ne respectable-sized letters, “AL THE Way;” and on the other side are | oa) ey found Henge oi for it —s nye enumerated, in the most Lilliputian type, the different distances that) “ Confidence will be restored—when the rest of the Bankers and make up a threepenny ride. Sometimes the distance consists of two | \ferchants are ruined or three streets; sometimes only the length of one street; in some| ‘Phe most perfect tranquillity prevails in the National Assembly— cases it is from one turnpike to another; and in others it is very little when all the Representatives hove quitted it more than going across the road. In this way the passenger cannot| ‘The rules for the observance of order are strictly enforced by the escape without paying his full fare ; for, as he gets out, the threepences | president—when he can are cast up, and he is lucky indeed if he gets off with merely paying two | : distances—that is to say, his sixpence. The scheme is very clever, -_ it requires one or two journeys before it can be properly understood, | and considerable experience in omnibus statistics before it can be | fully appreciated. Strangers are rather puzzled at first to understand | FEARFUL STATE OF SWITZERLAND. the difference between “ All the way,” and having it chopped up into a| s ; ; -dozen distances, cash payable threepence ; But before they have} Weare sorry to learn that the nation ‘of Switzerland is at present been in town a week they get used to it, and pay the fare without feeling | under “yy to a Reign of Terror. We perceive by the newspapers in the least astonished. Habit is everything. It is curious how soon | that the Swiss Diet has assembled actually under the presidency of we get used to extortion—in London especially ! ' Funk!

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re” 254 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. THE CHAMBERLAIN ON A DRAWING-ROOM DAY. We are not wise enough to know what may be the duties of the Lorp CHAMBERLAIN, if he has any beyond writing out the advertise- ments of the Board of Green Cloth, and acting as master of the cere- monies at a Drawing-Room, which it strikes us Baron NatHan would do just as well; but if he has to regulate the costume of every one who is invited, his situation must be occasionally very perplexing, especially with the ladies. Does he stand at the door of the Palace and inspect every dress, like the courteous doorkeeper at the pit door of Her Majesty’s Theatre, before he allows any one to enter? Does he ever send back a lordly gent, if he is not dressed strictly according to the Court regulations? Can he have the courage to say to a beautiful Duchess, “I cannot allow you to pass,” if her dress is not of Paisley manufacture, and every inch of her lace Honiton instead of Valen- ciennes ? and does he enforce his own law by clipping off on the spot the feathers, or the train, or garniture, or whatever the offending part of the lovely costume may be ?_ . These must be fearful duties, and the Lord Chamberlain’s heart must bleed every time he is called upon to exercise the judicial scissors. Probably his feelings are spared by every dress being sent to him for his sanction before they are worn, in the same way that theatrical pieces are submitted to him for his license before they are represented. These are all mysteries to us; but it is evident that the Lord Cham- berlain’s post can have been no sinecure, since the absurd regulations about British Manufactures. We have been informed that he has been taking half-a-dozen lessons in a first-rate tailor’s and a celebrated dress- maker’s, at the West End, to enable him to distinguish the foreign article from the home-made, and is sufficiently initiated already in the secrets of trade, to be able to tell, at a single glance, rabbit-skin from ermine, and to detect French leather that is endeavouring to pass itself as a pump of the best Bermondsey. He has made wonderful progress ; but it is evident that our Lord Chamberlains, for the future, will have to be apprenticed to a tailor and a milliner, before they will be qualified to accept office. By the bye, we wish to know if the cream-coloured horses are entirely British, and if not, why not ? SONG OF THE PROPAGANDIST.' (Am.—“ Du, du, du, du.”—German Ariette.) Do, do, do be seditious ; Do, do, rise in revolt; Don’t, don’t, don’t be judicious, Now all the world is a-jolt. Joun Buu, Joun But, why won’t you too be a dolt ? Do, do, paving-stones tear up! ‘0, do, raise barri ; Do, do, do have a flare u \ Sport your tri-coloured cockades. t, get, up, up, scenes, demonstrations, parades. Slaves, slaves, cast off your fetters, Though, though unfelt they may be; Cry, cry, death to your Mters ! Swear you’re resolv’d © be free, All, all, all, all, only by way of a spree. Let, let, let Revolution Cast all Government down, Swamp, swamp, swamp Constitution, Peerage, and Commons, and Crown. Do, do, do, do—do yourselves thoroughly brown. Each, each opulent neighbour Rob, rob, rob of his wealth ; Live, live, live without labour— Hey for subsistence by stealth! Rare, rare, rare, rare state of political health ! See, see Commerce suspended, See, see Credit destroyed, See, see Confidence ended, See, see hands enone? s See, see, see, see all Britain’s foes overjoyed ! Whelm’d, whelm’d, whelm’d in commotion, Plot, plot, plot and conspire ; Whilst we, sons of the ocean, Trample your flag in the mire: , Thus, thus, thus, thus, thus shall we have our desire ! TWO FRENCH LABOURERS. First. I say, Trt, what are you doing at present ? ' Second, Why, Francois, I’mdoingnothing. I’matthe A¢élier National. A LAST EFFORT. We know a sad case of a high-mettled punster, who, like the high- mettled racer, if not exactly sold for the hounds, has gone to the dogs. This veteran joker is reduced to a condition that may be guessed, but cannot be de- | scribed; though the oe last dying pun will give some idea of the old joker’s abject condition. On seeing some pens for cattle, and no pound, in a country town, he exclaimed with a melancholy chuckle, “Ha! ha! I see! The inhabitants are n-y wise and pound foolish ! THe Puay’s THE Taine. — We hope the French actors will leave us one theatre open, for “all work, and no play,” will, indeed, make Jack (But1) a dull boy. PERSONS REPRESENTED : SARAH-JANE. MATILDA. Scene.—Camblin Town. ANTED, AN | OCULIST, who will open the eyes of a Prixe MrnisTER nearly blind, so as to enable him to see ings as they exist in their true and proper light. Apply to Downing Street, or to Parliament, any night the House is sitting, on or before the 20th of June. N.B. The earliest appli- > req » as ~ case urgent, an almost e Sarah-Jane. “Ou, YOU ORRID DREADFUL STORY ! I pipn’r.” Matilda. “You pip now, ror I sze nm. I SEE HIM KISS YER. AND HERE HAVE I BIN EN- GAGED TO Tommy PRICE FOR YEARS, AND NEVER SO MUCH AS WALKED ARM-IN-ARM WITH HIM!”

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vrevr FF OOO OS wer ww ew eS ee PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 255 tl te i Be a THE (EXCHEQUER IN A FIX. Premier. “ Wet1L, HosKINs, WE MUST RETRENCH ; ONE OF US MUST GO ON SHORT TIME, AND I THINK IT HAD BETTER BE YOU.” Ovr facetious and useful contemporary, the Builder, informs us that the works at Buckingham Palace are suspended on account of the short- ness of money. Everything is consequently slack, except the lime, which remains as before, for want of the necessary funds to pay for the slacking. It is said that the labourers are to be put upon short time; but we have heard that this principle is to be tried first upon Field and others, who are to be put upon short time, and its usual concomitant—half wages. We think this will be the better plan of making the experiment, than playing it off, in the first instance, on the urers, = ae CONSCIENCE MONEY. The Earl of Ellenborough, Sinecurist and Pensioner, unbosometh himself. “ Mr. Punch, we “I BELIEVE it is by no means enough to say that all Christey- dom has vibrated with my speech upon ‘broad Christianity’ against the Jews—vibrated, like any steeple with triple-bob major. ell, Sir, I wish to be worthy of my increased reputation. I want to grow up to my own ideality. I desire to be known throughout the world as the Christian Earl; as, emphatically, the British nobleman without guile. I desire henceforth to be measured by the simple rule of Christianity ; to be, in a word, a shining light of the House of Lords. “The saving salt of Christianity is self-devotion. Now, I propose from this moment to give myself up to my country. It is my serious intention to shame the Jews by the lively force of contrast. 1 purpose to set-off their avarice by my own generosity ; to put to the blush their money-bags (if, Sir, money-bags cam blush, of which many excellent persons are prone to venture a doubt) by my own empty pocket. I purpose to make a clean purse of it; and so to prove that my oration touching the loveliness and duty of Christianity was not, merely like so many stones in ‘a tin-pot, rattled to tickle the long-eared ones of the world without. No, Sir; on the memorable night of that speech, 1 felt myself a new-born Christian. I refused to ride home in my ; and the very next morning gave orders for a horse-hair corazza. Not that I think sourness and penance part of Christianity ; certainly not; but in my own case, I beg to be allowed a little wholesome mortification. “Tt is well known, Sir, that my father (who tried Howe, and after much ~~ nothing in him) was Chief Justice of England. Now, Siz, in Ais days to be Chief Justice was to make the very largest penny by the commodity that was nominally sold at his Court. In Ais time, the scales of Justice were as the scales of a money-changer. Lorp ELLENBOROveH, as the solemn depositary of Justice, held in his gift certain offices for which—it is upon record—he refused eighty thousand eas. For his Lordship had the feelings of a father, and provided or his son out of the pocket of the public. His Lordship blessed me with the place, which turned into a pension—as the grub changeth into a golden butterfly—the place of Clerk of the Court of King’s Bench; for the which I—a sinner and a Christian—have hitherto received £7700 per annum. Furthermore, the same paternal love made me Custos Socio, at the lesser pay of 19s. 8d. per year. So my simple account, as a Christian tax-eater, stands with the people thus :— PensionasClerk . . «© « oo « £7700 0 0 Custos Brevium . . © «© « « 233819 8 £10,088 19 8 | © Let us take this for some thirty years, with compound interest. And afterwards let us suppose the goods and chattels of a weaver or stocking-maker to be worth £2 18s. Such weaver or stocking-maker | is seized upon for taxes. How many weavers or stocking-makers must in sold up to pay thirty years’ pension and sinecure of Clerk and ustos f _ “In this manner, Sir, after my memorable speech against the Jews, in this downright literal fashion has my thin-skinned conscience presented the sum to me. ‘Ever since that speech, I have been followed, haunted by the spirit of Christianity. You recollect my beautiful—(I must use the epithet)— beautiful peroration to the Peers :—‘ My Lords, let us not legislate for private purposes or private expediency; let us not, above all, deprive ourselves, in a crisis like the present, of all right to heavenly aid by sanctioning such a desecration of faith as that involved in this Bill!’ My good spirit has again and again repeated these melodious words: they have been singing in my world-cleansed ears, singing like the voice jf cherubim. And then the spirit would thus wholesomely rate me :— ‘Come, ELLENBoROUGH, be to thy heart’s content a Christian. Show thy hatred of the Jew and Christian, by making common fel!owship with thy poorer brethren. Take no money that thou dost not earn. | Refuse to eat and drink and wear the poor man’s sweat, changed as it is into cakes, and wines, and rich apparel: proclaim thyself, by thy | deeds, the Christian that thou art; and let thy words, so full of balm _and honey, be the small preface to thy bigger actions. Thou hast eaten ‘taxes for many years, therefore disgorge, good Epwarp, disgorge. | Otherwise, when men think of the Christian orator, and the Christian | no-doer—some may crook the finger as thou passest by; some, haply, | hold the nose.’ : | Now, Sir, to a man—as my friend BrovcHam would observe— /much pondering on these things, such exhortations must bring forth | their fruits. I have considered of what this sham Clerk of the Bench | is made of—I have thought of the composition of this impostor Custos : | and—summing up judgment in my own clear breast ; judging them from | the sanctuary of my own conscience—they are the eaters of men’s fees, | who, to buy justice, pay the wages of the lacqueys of Justice who, but that she is beneficently made blind, would blush her robes to tinder to see their doings. P “In conclusion, Mr. Punch, I beg to show myself—socially and po- litically—a practical Christian. It is my intention (may the good somal be followed in a hundred places) to defeat physical force Chartism by justice. I, for one, will stop the mouth of discontent, by leaving it no abuse to shout against. ; “Therefore, herewith I beg to resign my sham Clerkship—my shadowy Custos. I refuse from this time to be a pensioner on the working poor; I will not eat the roast and boiled which—but for such as me—might more frequently appear the labourer’s table. ** In conclusion, from the present year (I wish I could make the further sacrifice of all moneys hitherto received, but that is impossible), I beg to resign my pension as Clerk—my sinecure as Custos—and thus as I have remarked in my speech, assure to myself the enjoyment of that ‘heavenly aid’? which is the reward of the earnestness and simplicity of the true Christian. “ Your constant (and improved) reader, “ ELLENBOROUGH.” “P.S. Detesting more than ever all ostentation, I shall quit town for a few weeks, to avoid any expression of gratitude for this trifling, too-long-delayed sacrifice.” A POTATO CONSPIRACY. WE extract the following important intelligence from the Ballinasloe tar :— ‘The dearly-loved potato of the Irish peasant is springing up «with seeming health, and greater luxuriance, and in greater abundance, at this early period of the year, than we recollect on former occasions.” There can be no doubt that this general rising of the potato through- out Ireland, is solely to bring contempt upon the opinions of the distin- guished prophets of Parliament and Exeter Hall, who declared that the potato was for ever destroyed by the Maynooth Grant. As if to com- plete the case, the Sfar further informs us, that “Turnips are slowly making head.” Hence, the heads of the aforesaid prophets are further threatened with dangerous rivals.

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256 __ PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

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* “on the beat.” MODEL POLICEMAN. E walks upright, as flexible as a kitchen poker, his thoughts and hands quite full—like the Kine or Prussta—of his “ be- loved Berlins.” He keeps his pe straight before him, even if there is a leg of mutton from the baker’s running the oppo- site i He rarely looks lower than the parlour win- dows, when the servants are on board wages. His heart —unlike himself—is constantly bese to saly egpeied by his auty is only equalled by his appetite for cold beef. He shows the weakness of his body by calling Danxrex Harvey “ WITTLEs.” The Mopet Poticeman moves only in the most fashion- able areas. He is rather par- ticular in seeing if the coal cellar is fast, about supper time. He is never inside a kitchen, unless “the street door has been left open.” He is affable to the footman, and smiles to the page, but suspects the butler, and calls the French maid “ proud.” regulated by the neighbourhood. His appearance and spirits are greatly In Belgravia he wears straps, plays with a pink, and buzzesto himself some popular tune. In St. Giles’s his cheeks get ollow, his buttons grow rusty, his belt is put polished only with blacklead ! ! on anyhow, and his highlows are The Mopet PoticeMaN arrives at a row before it is quite over, and sometimes 7 gets at a fire a minute or two before the fire -escape. He knows every pick- pocket in the world, and has seen everybody who is taken up two or three times before. otic and if the testimony of an Inspector is amen cloth by swearing (as the saying is) “till all He has a vivid recollection of what another Policeman remembers, d, he shows a great love for his is blue.” He objects to “ plain

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clothes ;” he thinks them not uniform, and “unperfessional.” He never smiles when inside a theatre, nor sleeps at a sermon, nor takes an opera-glass to look

at the ballet when stationed in the gallery of Her Majesty’s. He rarely releases the wrong person he has taken into custody for disturbing the performances. He has a virtuous horror of Punch and Judy, and insists upon the Indiarubber Brothers “moving on,” in the midst even of the Human Pyramid. He never stops at a print-shop, nor loiters before a cook-shop, nor hangs about a pas excepting to drive away the little boys who choke up the door where the stale pastry is exhibited. He is not proud, but will hold a gentleman’s horse at an emergency, and take sixpence for it. e rings bells the first thing in the morning, runs to fetch the doctor, 9 an early coffee-stall to unpack her cups and saucers, pulls down shutters, gives “lights” to young oe stag- gering home, directs them to the nearest “public,” and does not even mind going in with them, “just to have a little drop of something to keep himself warm.” In fact the Mopet Poticeman does anything for the smallest trifle, to make himself useful as well as ornamental. Above all, he never laughs. He is the terrorof publicans on Saturday nights, but is easily melted with “a drop ”—on the sly. He is courageous, also, and will take up an applewoman, or a “lone woman” with babies, without a moment’s hesitation. He is not irritable, but knows his dignity. Do not speak to him much, unless you have avery good coat. Especially do not oke with him when on duty. You are sure to know it by is collar being up. Do not put a finger upon him, for he con- strues it into an assault. Of the two Forces, he certainly belongs to the Physical, rather than to the Moral Force. He is tremendous in a row, and cares no more for a “ brush” than his oilskin hat. He hates the name of Chartist, and cannot “abide” a Frenchman in any shape, any more than a beggar, especially if he has moustaches. He has a secret contempt for the “ Specials,” whom he calls “amateurs.” He rarely fraternises with a Beadle, excepting when there is an insur- rection of boys, and it comes to open snowballing, or splashing with the fire-plug. He prohibits all sliding, puts down vaulting over posts, — grottos, chuckfarthing, and is terribly upset with a piece of orange-peel, or the cry of “ Peeler.” He avoids a lobster-shop, for fear of vulgar comparisons, and hates the military—“ the whole biling of ’em”—for some raw reason; but he touches his hat to “the Duxe.” He rarely sleeps inside a cab of acold night. He never lights a cigar till the theatres are over. Heisalong time in hearing the cry of “‘ Stop thief!” and is particularly averse to running; his greatest pace is a hackney-coach gallop, even after a Sweep, who is following, too literally, his calling. He is meek to lost children, and takes them to the station-house in the most fatherly manner. He is polite to elderly ladies who have lost a cat or @ parrot, and gives directions to a porter in search of a particular street, without losing his temper. He is fond of a silver watch, and he reaches the summit of a policeman’s pride and happiness if he gets a silver chain with it. Next to himself, however, there is nothing he loves half so closely as his whiskers. He would sooner throw up staff, station, and be numbered amongst the dead letters of the Post Office, or the rural police, than part with a single hair of them; for the Mopet Poticeman feels that without his whiskers he should cut but a contemptible figure in the eyes of those he loves, even though he exhibited on his collar the proud label of A 1! Beyond his whiskers, his enjoyments are but few. He watches the beer as it is delivered at each door, he follows the silvery sound of “ muffins!” through streets and squares, he loves to speculate upon the destination of the fleeting butcher’s tray, and on Saturday night he threads the mazy stalls of the nearest market, his love growing at the sight of the savoury things it is wont to feed on. His principal amusement is to peep through the keyhole of a street-door at night with his bull’s eye—especially i any one is looking at him. This is the great difficulty, however, for the policeman’s clothes are of that deep, ‘ Invi- sible Blue” that persons have lived for years in London without seeing one. This is the reason, probably, when he is seen, that he throws so much light upon himself, as if the creature wished to engrave the fact of his curiosity strongly upon the recollection of the startled beholder by means of the most powerful illumination. Without some such proof. the incredulous world would never believe in the existence of a Mopet PoticemMan,

ar”

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 257 A ROMANCE OF ROAST DUCKS. - he Mel wel! AV} »/ 6 My DARLING, WILL YOU TAKE A LITTLE OF THE—A—THE STUFFING?” “T WILL, DEAR, IF YOU DO; BUT IF YOU DON'T, 1 won't.” JENKINS AT DRURY LANE. Tue spirit of Jenxixs is not extinguished. Certainly not. It always wakes and shakes itself with the occasion. For instance, Jenxins visited Drury Lane last week, and having chronicled the “desecration of tue classic temple where Garrick, Kemse, Srppons, Kean and GRIMALDI trod and tumbled,” again faded in moonshine. Here, however, is the ol accustomed Jenkinsonian touch. JENKINs speaks of the most earnest rioters. (For further particulars of some of them see the Old Bailey). “* Some of the most earnest shouted ‘ Britons, be bricks /’ and ‘ Britons, support the British Drama!’ and various other patriotic cries. Then came the National Anthem, sang capitally by a majority of the audience.” Nothing could be more apposite, more significant, than the frequent execution of “God save the QuEEN” during the Monte Cristo riot. Her JesTY, always having set the royal countenance against the undue encouragement of the foreign Drama, to the neglect of the English Stage, had the noblest right to the frequent bellowing of the National Anthem. It served as at once a compliment to the QuEEN and as a warning to the brick-like Britons. However, let Jenks proceed with his history :— « All then was hushed in grim silence; but the lull was threatening in its aspect, and foretold the coming storm; and no sooner did the curtain rise, than one burst of indignation was yelled forth, sufficient to fright the Isle from its propriety. Up stood the Gallic Cocks,and crowed with might and main, and shook _— dingy wings ; but the roaring of the British Lion, and his determined front, were not thus to be put down.” : We have been kindly favoured by Jenxuys himself with a portrait of Cock and of Lion feos and it must be acknowledged that they are wonderfully faithful—crowing and roaring enesses ! Fuicut or Gextvs.—Two or three of the DemostHenzs’ of the mob have been proving that they are far beyond the Gees in some respects ; for there is no shutting one’s eyes to the cleverness they have recently shown in outrunning the constable. THEY SHOULD REFLECT, BUT THEY WON’ We quote the following, for the benefit of gentlemen at the Bar. It is Mz. Baron Parke who is speaking, in the Court of Exchequer. “It was a great injustice to suitors that learned gentle- men should be absent when their services were required. They should reflect, when they accepted briefs, whether they would be able to discharge the duties they owed their clients.” If a person obtains money under false pre- tences, he is indicted, but a barrister may take as many fees as he likes under the falsest pretences, and not be accountable for a single one! Worse than this, the suitor may be ruined by the non- attendance of his counsel, and the only remedy the poor man has, is the consolation of knowing that the barrister was defending a case in some other Court! A similar fraud would take a tradesman to the Old Bailey; but a barrister apparently has a license to steal to any amount he pleases, _The days of highwaymen are not quite over. We could point to many a Dick TURPIN in our law Courts, who, holding a brief, instead of a pistol, to a person’s head, rifles him with all the gentility in the world, of his money. The wonder is, that the cry is not raised of “Stop thief!” And yet the Bar is called one of the /:beral professions. We are afraid that the liberality is “all for themselves,” and that the ruined client gets none of it. We recommend counsel to put at the bottom of their briefs, as is done with the playbills, the truthful announce- ment, “No money returned.” It will save a deal of disappointment, which must be very annoying to the profession. THE STEPS OF THE SEDITIONISTS. One of our contemporaries, in speaking of the gatherings of the Bonner’s Fields Raga- muffins, describes them as “bootless and irregu- lar”? We can answer for them being not only “bootless,” but to a certain extent “ shoeless ;” and under these circumstances we are not sur- prised that they cannot place themselves upon a respectable footing. A report that one of the orators came to a recent meeting in a Clarence, would seem to indicate that he drove up in his private carriage; but on further inquiry, we ascer- tained that the individual in question did not ride to the ground in a Clarence, but walked thither ina = of Clarences. These articles had been purchased by him as “ warranted men’s stout,” and he had had extra nails driven into the soles, to make them more effective in trampling under foot the crown, the cabinet, the sceptre, the throne, the ministry, the middle classes, and every- thing else that our native rivals of the Indians at the Egyptian Hall are disposed to dance upon. A Dilemma. In consequence of the ill-treatment_ which Srr H. Butwer experienced from the Spanish Government, ours retaliates upon that of Madrid by depriving it of a resident English Minister. Will Mr. Hume, or some other gentleman, have the kindness to tell Mr. Punch which is supposed to be the country that, in this case, is a to suffer? Is it Spain, or is it this country P If none but a first-class ambassador can trans- act our affairs in Spain, why send a second chop representative? It is injuring ourselves to spite our neighbours. If, on the contrary, a second- class man will do the work just as well as the greatest and best paid grandee that ever wore stars and garters, why not always employ second-class men, and save the money ?, An answer, post paid, will oblige. VOL, XIV.

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. HE SCHOOL FOR SPOUTERS. Mr. Ernest Jonzs, the emi- nent barrister, confessed at Bow Street that he was not well versed in the criminal part of his yeeeence. Hea, Mazesty’s ] iahers, taking his ignorance into kind consideration, have allowed him to take a few les- sons of the Attorney-General— only it is feared that the first sentence in his new studies wil be of such a nature that he wil not be able to get over it for several years to come, t) are several other pupils in the same class, all equally uninformed; but it is to be hoped that when they see the bad example of Mr. Joxzs, and what it has led him to, they will soon learn what is right, and not have occasion to take any lessons of the Attorney-Gene A LITTLE DINNER AT TIMMINS’S. Tue cards for dinner having been issued, it became the duty of Mus. Trmins to make further arrangements respecting the invitations to the tea-party which was to follow the more substantial meal. These arrangements are difficult, as any lady knows who is in the habit of entertaining her friends. ‘There are— People who are offended if you ask them to tea whilst others have been asked to dinner— People who are offended if you ask them to tea at all; and cry out furiously, “‘Good Heavens! Janz, my love, why do these TimmrnsEs suppose that I am to leave my dinner-table to attend their soirée ?”? (the dear reader may fill up the —— to any strength, according to his liking)—or, “‘ Upon my word, WILLIAM, my dear, it is too much to ask us to pay twelve shillings for a Brougham, and to spend I don’t know how much in gloves, just to make our curtsies in Mrs. TimMins’s little drawing-room.” Mrs, Moser made the latter remark about the Timmins affair, while the former was uttered by Mz. Grump.ey, Barrister-at-Law, to his lady, in Gloucester Place. That there are people who are offended if you don’t ask them at all, is a point which I suppose nobody will question, Timmins’s earliest friend in life was Simmins, whose wife and family have taken a cottage at Mortlake for the season. “We can’t ask them to come out of the country,” Rosa said to her Fitzroy—(between ourselves, she was delighted that Mrs. Simmins was out of the way, and was as jealous of her as every well-regulated woman should be of her husband’s female friends)—we can’t ask them to come so far for the ome ; “Why no, certainly,” said Fitzroy, who has himself no very great opinion of a tea-party; and so the Simminses were cut out of the list. And what was the consequence? The consequence was, that Simmins and Timmins cut when they meet at Westminster; that Mrs. Simmins sent back all the books which she had borrowed from Rosa, with a withering note of thanks; that Rosa goes about saying that Mrs. Smmins squints; that Mas. S., on her side, declares that Rosa is crooked, and behaved shamefully to Captain Hicks, in marrying Fitzroy over him, though she was forced to do it by her mother, and prefers the Captain to her husband to this day. If, in a word, these two men could be made to fight I believe their wives would not be dis- pleased ; and the reason o all this mise , Tage, and dissension, lies in a poor little twopenny dinner-party in Lilliput Street. Well, the guests, both for before and after meat, having been asked— old Mrs. GasuieigH, Rosa’s mother—(and, by consequence, FitzRoy’s dear mother-in-law, though I promise you that “dear” is particular! sarcastic)—Mrs. GASHLEIGH of course was sent for, and came wit Miss Exiza GasHueien, who plays on the guitar, and Emity, who limps a little, but plays sweetly on the concertina. They live close by —trust them for that. Your mother-in-law is always within hearing, thank our stars for the attentions of the dear woman. The GasHLEIGHS, I say, live close by, and’ came early on the morning after Rosa’s notes n issued for the dinner. _ When Frrzroy, who was in his little study, which opens into the little dining-room—one of those absurd little rooms that ought to be called a Gentleman’s Pantry, and is scarcely bigger than a shower-bath, or a state cabin in a ship—when Fitzroy heard his mother-in-law’s knock, and her well-known — and chattering in the , in which she squeezed up young Burrons, the page whil e she put questions to him regarding baby, and the cook’s health, and whether she had taken what Mrs. GasHteien ‘had sent over night, and the housemaid’s health, and whether Mr. Tums had gone to Chambers or not ? and when, after this preliminary chatter, Buttons flung open the door, announcing—“ Mrs, GasHizicn and the young ladies,” Frrzroy [aid down his Zimes newspaper with an expression that had best not be printed in a Journal which young people read, and took his hat and walked away. Mrs, Gasntzicn has never liked him since he left off calling her Mamma, and kissing her. But he said he could not stand it any longer—he was hanged if he would. So he went away to Chambers, leaving the field clear to Rosa, Mamma, and the two dear girls. —Or to one of them, rather; for before leaving the house, he thought he would have a look at little Firzroy up-stairs in the Nursery, and he found the child in the hands of his maternal aunt Etiza, who was holding him and pinching him as if he had been her guitar, I suppose ; so that the little fellow bawled pitifully—and his father finally quitte the premises. No sooner was he gone, and although the party was still a fortnight off, yet the women pounced upon his little Study, and “a to put it in order. Some of his papers they pushed up over the bookcase, some they put behind the Encyclopzedia, some they crammed into the drawers, where Mrs. GAsHLEIGH found three cigars, which she pocketed, and some letters, over which she cast her eye; and by Firz’s return they had the room as neat as possible, and the best glass and dessert-service mustered on the study-table. Z It was a very neat and handsome service, as you may be sure Mrs. GasHLEIGH thought, whose rich uncle had purchased it for the young couple, at SpopE AND CoPELAND’s: but it was only for twelve rsons. Pt was agreed that it would be, in all respects, cheaper and better to purchase a dozen more dessert plates; and with “ my silver basket in the centre,” Mrs. G. said (she is always bragging about that con- founded bread-basket), “‘ we need not have any extra china dishes, and the table will look very pretty.” On making a roll-call of the glass, it was calculated that at least a dozen or so tumblers, four or five dozen wines, eight water-bottles, and a proper quantity of ice-plates, were requisite; and that, as they would always be useful, it would be best {o purchase the articles ey Firz tumbled over the basket containing them, which stood in the hall, as he came in from Chambers, and over the boy who had brought them —and the little bill. . The women had had a long debate, and something like a quarrel, it must be owned, over the bill of fare. Mrs. Gasuieicn, who had lived a great part of her life in Devonshire, and kept house in great state there, was famous for making some dishes, without which, she thought. no dinner could be perfect. When she proposed her mock-turtle, an stewed pigeons, and gooseberry-cream, Rosa turned up her nose—a pretty little nose it was, by the way, and with a natural turn in that direction. “* Mock-turtle in June, mamma!” she said. “Tt was good enough for your grandfather, Rosa,” the mamma replied; “it was good enough for the Lord High Admiral, when he was at Plymouth; it was good enough for the first men in the county, and relished by Lorp FortyskEweR and Lorp Rois; Sir Lawkence PorkER ate twice of it after Exeter Races; and I think it might be good enough for””—— a “T will wo¢ have it, mamma! ” said Rosa, with a stamp of her foot— and Mrs. GasHLEIGH knew what resolution there was in that; once, when she had tried to physic the baby, there had been a similar fight between them. So Mas. GasHLEIGH made out a carte, in which the soup was left with a dash—a melancholy vacuum; and in which the pigeons were certainly thrust in amongst the ex¢rées ; but Rosa determined they never should make an exérée at all into her dinner-party, but that she would have the dinner her own way. ; , ; When Firz returned, then, and after he had paid the little bill of £6 14s. 6d. for the glass, Rosa flew to him with her sweetest smiles, and the baby in her arms. And after she had made him remark how the child grew every day more and more like him, and after she had treated him to’a number of compliments and caresses, which it were positively fulsome to exhibit in public, and after she had soothed him into good humour by her artless tenderness, she began to speak to him about some little points which she had at heart. p She pointed out with a sigh how shabby the old curtains looked since the dear new glasses which her darling Frrz had given her had been put up in the drawing-room. Muslin curtains cost nothing, and she must and would have them. The muslin curtains were accorded. She and Fritz went and bought them at SHooLBRED’s, when you may be sure she treated herself like- wise to a neat, sweet, pretty half-mourning (for the Court, you know, is in mourning)—a neat sweet Jarége, or calimanco, or bombazine, or tiffany, or some such thing; but !Maname Camize of Regent Street made it up, and Rosa looked like an angel in it on the mght of her little dinner. ; “And my sweet,” she continued, after the curtains had been given in, “ Mamma and | have been talking about the dinner. She wants to make it very expensive, which I cannot allow. I have been thinking of i ' a RR

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Aa PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARLI. 259 a delightful and economical plan, and you, my sweetest Firz, must put it into execution.” ; **T have cooked a mutton-chop, when I was in Chambers,” Frrz said, with a laugh. “Am I to put on a cap and an apron?” “No; but you are to go to the Megatherium Club (where, you wretch, you are always golig without my leave), and you are to beg Monstzur Mrropo.ant, your famous cook, to send you one of his best aides-de-camp, as I know he will, and with his aid we can dress the dinner and the confectionery at home for almost nothing, and we can show those purse-proud TorpHam Sawyers and Rowpys that the humble cottage can furnish forth an elegant entertainment as well as the gilded halls of wealth.” Firz or to speak to Monsteur Mrrozorant. If Rosa had had a fancy for the cook of the Prime Minister; I believe the deluded creature of a husband would have asked Lorp Joun for the loan of him, THE COMING MAN. Who is the Coming Man ? Not Ricnarp CoppENn: no, nor JosErH Hume, Although a veteran Reformer ; nor our own illustrious BroucHam ; Nor of the Chartist crew Feareus, the chief, nor Mr. Ernest Jones; Nor Mr. FussEx1, who Would of assassination make no bones ; Nor yet Sir Ropert Peet,— Shuffling expediency too much his rule; Nor can the Commonweal Put faith in Lorp Grorce Bentinck or his school ; Nor on Young English Ben, Although the first the notion to suggest Of wondrous Coming Men, Can Britain’s hopes of renovation rest. The Coming Man is not A Tem. a Conservative, or Whig, or a Free Trader hot, Nor staunch Protectionist.—A rush, a fig For men of party sects, Of narrow principles and views confined !- e whom Joun Butt expects Must be a man of independent mind. No; Punch, long-headed Puxch— ’Tis he who is the about to come, Upon his stalwart hunch The State to shoulder, and beneath his thumb All factions to suppress, All discord and disturbance to subdue, To quell all strife.—Oh, yes ! Punch is the me, Man—if not, then who? Ah! Who? hy, there’s the point— Perhaps the Man of intellectual might, The time that’s out of joint Predestined as a trivet to set right, May be as yet unfrocked ; Is wrapp’d in swaddling-clothes, and wears a bib, And now is crying—rock’d To slumber in his cradle or his crib ; Perhaps he laughs and crows; Perchance he is rejoicing in “ Soojie,” j Or hush’d into repose By Darry or by Day, it may be. By teething’s troubles rack’d, Perhaps he tries the patience of his nurse; Is being washed, cr smack’d, For conduct of correctness the reverse. Yet, if he breat enough. Rock’d, cradled, dress’d, or dandled—he it so ; _ Dredg’d with the powder-puff— Tis what we all have had to undergo— _ Born to regenerate His country, does it signify a jot If one to be so oo, May now be covered up in a quart pot? A Simple Answer to a Polite Question. “Can I show you anything more to-day, Sir?” asked the civil gentleman behind the counter, of his worthy customer. “Yes,” was the reply. ‘Will you be good enough to show me the silk umbrella I left here three weeks ago >” THE MODEL LABOURER. | | | |) | He’ supports a large } = | twelve to fourteen hours ‘day. He rises early to dig in what he calls his garden. He prefers his fireside to the alehouse, and has only one pipe when he gets home, and then to bed. He at- tends church regularly, with a clean smockfrock and face on Sundays, and waits outside, when | } service is over, to pull i family upon the smallest j “5s wages. He works from iy | = a l, > >-- > his hair to his landlord, Na '° : . Mm = >\. fl or, in his absence, pays —e tl the same reverence to : the steward. Beer and he are perfect strangers, rarely meeting, except at Christmas or Harvest time; and as for spirits, he only knows them, like meat, by name. He does not care for skittles. He never loses a day’s work by attending political meetings. Newspapers do not make him discontented, for the simple reason that he cannot read. He believes steenely in the fact of belonging to the “Finest Peasantry.” He sends his children to school somehow, and gives them the best boots and education he can. He attributes all blights, bad seasons, failures, losses, accidents, to the repeal of the Corn Laws. He won’t look at a hare, and imagines, in his respect for rabbits, that Jack SHEPPARD was apoacher. He white- washes his cottage once a year. He is punctual with his rent, and somehow, by some rare secret best known by his wages, he is never ill. He knows absolutely nothing beyond the affairs of his parish, and does not trouble himself greatly about them. If he has a vote, it is his landlord’s, of course. He joins in the cry of “ Protection,” wondering what it_means, and puts his X most innocently to any farmer’s petition. He subscribes a penny a week to a Burial Society. He erects triumphal arches, fills up a group of happy tenants, shouts, sings, dances—any mockery or absu to please his measter. He has an incurable horror of the Union, and his eatest pride is to starve sooner than to solicit parish relief. His ¢ are taught the same creed. He prefers living with his wife to oat, ooperstes from her. His only amusement is the Annual Agricultural Fat-and-Taliow Show ; his greatest happiness, if his master’s Fa. wnten he has fattened, gets the prize. He struggles on, existing ral than living, infinitely worse fed than the beasts he gets up for the Exhibitions—much less czred about than the soil he cultivates, toiling, without hope, spring, summer, autumn, and winter, his wages never aoe By ye less—and perhaps after thirty years’ unceasing labour, if he has been all that time with the same landlord, he gets the munificent reward of six- and-twopence, accompanied, it is true, with a warm eulogium on his virtues by the President (a real Lord), for having ‘-° up ten children and several pigs upon five shillings a-week. ‘This is the Move. aoe, See end of life is honourably fulfilled if he is able, after a whole life’s sowing for another, to reap a coffin for himself to be buried in! (| Two Mare’s Nests. An old lady writing to her bosom friend in the country, and wishing to frighten her as much as possible about the “agitated state of the metropolis,” wrote as follows :—‘‘ Will you believe it, my dear, that for days past they have been busy erecting a scaffolding at the top cf St. Paul’s, on which cannon are to be planted to fire down upon the Chartists if they attempt to rise! The same precaution is being taken at Westmin- ster Abbey.” The poor innocent creature had mistaken the engineering galleries put up for the survey of the metropolis, for military ,outworks ! A Hint to Artists. Tue present age is not very rich in subjects for grand historical paintings ; but we think we have one to suggest, which is at the service of any artist who will send us fifty | pe mer for the idea—the money to be expended in cutting the hair and shaving off the moustachios of five thousand poor Frenchmen. The subject we have to propose is the Grand Allegory of the Catspaw, in which Lorp Patmerston should represent the Monkey, using the hand, or rather the paw, of Sir Harry Buiwer, who should be made to appear as the Cat, engaged in the awkward operation of burning his fingers by meddling with the Spanish chesnuts. How to Estanuish A New Parer.—Circulate a report that’ RorHscHILp is connected with it.

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260 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

A DISHONO WE are surprised the French Company at Drury Lane Theatre did not alter its bills, and announce what the performance was really likely to be, instead of inviting the public to go and witness the play of Monte Cristo, when not a single word of it was audible. If the bill had furnished a faithful announcement of what would take place, it should have been headed— “Great Arrraction! A Rea Cuarivari!” and it should have gone on to state that— “The ag er will commence with the celebrated Whistling Over- e followed by God Save the Queen, played by the band and ture, to

URED BILL. sung by the audience. In the course of the evening, the grand chorus of Off, off, and Away! will be sung by several hundred voices ; and in order to give as much variety as possible to the omens amusement, the noble art of self-defence will be illustrated by a rapid succession of pugilistic encounters in the dress boxes and in other parts of the theatre. The whole will be accompanied by an uninterrupted exhibition of dumb show by the members of the French Company, who will form themselves into a constantly changing series of tableaux vivans, from half-past seven until half-past eleven. “ Several English actors from the Theatres Royal, Surrey, Victoria, Olympic, Grecian Saloon, Bower, &. &c., will have the honour of appearing in the dress-circle, for the purpose of going

a . —— 7 NIM 1 eT | a NL Nee eRe ee TT MEAT MS = WATTLE A el) aT A Vth S } | | i I ye vee y =|: " « | os = += \ S$ ¢ 7 7 i at? M y [ I) ~ oe 44 y i ae Yi 1. a / j K N YN x ?R s . | = N \ \ —— / ‘\ (\ 3 Hy } j\ —— / Hf py. : A Wi] AO q 4 SN UM ‘ AY = <= J CHAS ene Or Qa ~ ; on | \\ Shakspeare. “Ou, MY DEAR Punch, SAVE ME FROM SUCH FRIENDS!” through their recitations with appropriate action, after the manner of the Gutta Percha Indefatigables, the Kamschatka Cousins, and other a parties of Unbendables, Unbelieveables and Unbearables.” , his would have been the proper programme of the performances

Théatre Historique, having advertised one thing and Chancery to compel specific performance.

WHO IS DAT KNOCKING AT DE DOOR? A Nigger Melody, to be Sung by Lorp Joun Russe11 in the character of an Ethiopian Serenader. I nap just been having a little bit of spree, And saying, “ For Reform no demand there can be ; ” I’d come from the House and had just gone to bed, When from Downing Street window I pok’d out my head: Dere was some one knocking at de door. ** Who is dat knocking at de door ? ** Am dat yeu, Bop? ”’—“ No, it am Jor.” “Well: you ain’t good looking, and you’d better go; And dere ’s no use knocking at de door any more, Dere’s no use knocking at de door.” “Who is dat knocking at de door," Making such a noise with his lib’ral jaw ? I’ at de House, and tell ’em as how You only want to kick up a row. Am dat you, Joz ?””—“ No, it am Dick.” | Spoken. “‘ What! Dick CoppEen ?”— Yes, Dick CoBpEN, who gave you such a lift with the corn, that might have been too much for you.” “Well! he arn’t good looking, and he can’t come in.” Den"dey knock at de door with a precious din, And at last they completely force it in. In came Reformers, one, two, three, Saying, “Come, Nigger RusseLL, you must wid me.” “Who is dat knocking at de door? Who is dat knocking at de door P Am dat you, Joz ?”—“ No, it am Bos; He’s the only fellow that can do the job.” They took me to de Commons, and I stay all night ; I neber o—- a wink, though in sleep I delight ; My trance they break, and my rivals crow To see my slumbers broken by poor old Jor. | *T was he came knocking at de door ; He keeps on knocking at de door. “Ts dat you, Ben ?”—“ No, it am Joz.” “* Well, you can’t come in; so away you’d better go.”

of the French Company at Drury Lane. As it is, the actors of the | i 1 done another, the | members of the Company have rendered themselves liable to a Bull in |

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A GREAT DEMONSTRATION, Mob-Orator. “ TeLt me, Minion! Is IT THE INTENTION OF YOUR PROUD MASTERS AT ALL HAZARDS TO PREVENT OUR DEMONSTRATION ? Magistrate (blandly). “‘ Yes, Sir.” Mob-Orator. ‘‘ THEN Know, On MyRMIDON OF THE BRUTAL WHIGSs, THAT I SHALL GO HOME TO MY TEA, AND ADVISE MY COMRADES TO DO THE SAME! ”

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL 263 LE THEATRE HISTORIQUE AT DRURY LANE. UNNING over with cos- mopolitan benevolence, Punch visited Drury Lane on the occasion of that theatre commencing its fourth season within eight months, under Mons. JULLIEN’s man- ement. It began asa Turkish Tent in October, it became a grand Opera House before Christmas and ere March had found its ides, it had lost its identity by conversion - into an arena for horse- manship. FRANCONI strutted where Kzran had trod, and AURIOL shrieked Za, /a/ on the very spot once devoted to the La, la, la! of our PatTons,ourSTEPHENSES, our TREES, and our Horses pranced where Vepy nad capered, and grooms occupied the groundjonce filled with a happy dramatic peasantry at eighteen-pence per night, or a stalwart band of chorus-singing ca- rousers, culled from the very flower of British basses and baritones. Every sort of desecration and degradation had been visited on poor Dene Lam and it had even been made an accessory before the fact in the circulation of the engravings of the Art-Union; but even this humiliation had been permitted. It had been suffered to lend its agency in sending home the murderous steel to the public, in the shape of wretched prints that carried with them their own proofs of worth- lessness. Having seen all this, we fancied that such a minor offence as bringing the Company of one of the lesser Parisian theatres to Drury Lane would have been passed over as a comparatively trifling delinquency. After various announcements and postponements, Moxte Cristo was positively advertised as “A Grand Drama in Ten Acts, opoapying two evenings in its performance.” There had been a difficulty about the licence, for the Lord Chamberlain had been compelled to get one of our British dramatists, on whom a portion of the paletot of PLancué is supposed to have fallen, to ;translate the Drama, for the purpose of having all the blasphemy and sedition taken out of it. This operation was a good deal like gutting a house;' extracting the jam from a jam tart; separating the meat hen the sandwich; depriving the Surrey seaman of his hornpipe and his ducks; or leaving out all the venom from a speech of Mr. BensaMIN DisRakELI. Monte Cristo was accordingly reduced to such a mere skeleton, that the licenser could not find a single bone to pick with it. . : ‘ We began to wonder how two nights could possibly be occupied with such an attenuated affair; and we thought that even if there were too much for one night, there would never be enough for two, in the paltry trash that was about to be presented to the British public asa dra- matic repast for a couple of evenin We had heard there was to be an opposition from the British dramatists; but, as we knew that compact) little body could not by possibility spread itself into anything beyond a single private box, we did not apprehend ,much disturbance from that quarter. We knew, moreover, that even if the play- wrights were to congregate, Geng they might be numerous enough, they would never be so ungrateful as to go and quarrel with their bread-and-butter, by evincing hostility towards a French melodrama. It would be something like suicide on the part of these gentlemen to hiss a production of the Parisian stage, and we knew they woul go and see a French play with all the veneration and respect that a child would feel for the author of its existence. BRAHAMS. No sooner had the doors opened, and the French musicians taken | their places in the orchestra, than those great engines of public opinion, | the catcall and the whistle, be, to exert their influence. ‘That | astounding reasoner, the street-door key, acted upon as it was by all the force of fervid flatulence, silenced everything in the shape of argument on the other side; and, if Alovus had taken the first row of the pit for himself and friends, he could not have dealt out heavier blows than were puffed forth from the lungs of a generous British audience. In vain did the band attempt to abate the storm by throwing the oil of God Save the Queen on the troubled waters. 2 At length, after a dumb overture, of which “not a drum was heard, the curtam rose upon the deck of the Pharaoh, and the vessel encoun- tered such a storm as its crew had not looked for. ‘There was pantomime on the stage met by opposition pantomime among the audience; fists were shaken from box to box; hands were laid upon hearts; umbrellas were hoisted; handkerchiefs and shawls were waved; orange-peel was hurled upon the stage; and amidst all this din, the actors were going through their parts as if they had been playing before a perfectly attentive audience. At one time an old man came tottering on to the stage, when he was pounced upon by one of the other actors, and affectionately mauled, after the usual French fashion—an incident which, on reference to the printed Programme, we found to be “the tender and affecting meeting of Hdmond and his father.” In another scene, a member of the corps dramatique began to skip about with frantic energy, which at first we thought betokened the sudden loss of the actor’s senses at the uncourteousness of his reception ; but the Argu- ment informed us that it was merely Mercedes rendered “ wild with joy” at the arrival of Hdmond. In a subsequent scene two of the principal characters were crawling about a dungeon, and occasionally getting under an old bedstead, upon which they ultimately sat down in —-_ very earnest conversation, in the course of which we are told “ Dantes learns from Faria, who has a profound knowledge of the human heart, the probable motives of his incarceration.” We must have had a very profound knowledge of the human countenance if we could have gathered this fact from the looks of the two individuals sitting ¢éte-d-téte at the back of the stage, and “looking unutterable things,” or uttering inaudible things while perched on a practicable bedstead. When it came to a discussion of “ probable motives,” we — it high time to retire, and accordingly, giving the thing up as a hopeless affair, we left the theatre. In the course of the evening, JuLLieN came forward and went through a series of contortions of the most extraordinary character. He pulled half-a-crown out of his pocket, rammed his finger down his throat, pointed up to the chandelier, cast his eyes down the hole through which the foot-lights are drawn up, and set his lips in motion at a fearful rate for five minutes together. What he meant by all these displays of physical force, it is impossible to tell; but we could see that emotion shook his whiskers to their very roots, and that passion gave fearful activity to his eye-balls. His nose quivered to its very centre, and the colour turned to ashes on his lip; but not a single syllable was heard, nor would there have been had he possessed the power of one of his own monster ophycleides. Monte Cristo may well take two evenings in the representation, when so little progress is made in the course of one performance. Those who may have gone this week to see the second part, will know quite as much of the matter as those who witnessed the first, and the interest will be equal for all, whether they did or did not form part of the first audience. A Matter of Course. At a Meeting at the Literary Institution, Leicester Square, on the Health of Towns Measure, Doctor Gavin said— “To Doctor Sournwoop Smirn was due the merit of having originated the present sanitary movement,” This fact is made emphatically evident by the neglectful manner in which Docror Smitu has been treated by the Government. The “originator” of a great public benefit is of course the one especial erson to be overlooked, when through his energy—and Doctor Smitu as devoted means, time, and the greater treasure, health—the benefit is accomplished. All the appointments are made; yet do we in vain seek among them for the name of Doctor Sournwoop Smita. This is a most disgraceful erratum to the Whig Cabinet. THE CHISWICK FLOWER SHOW. Tue Horticultural Féte of the 10th of June was one continual shower- bath, to which the elements, with their accustomed liberality, afforded their gratuitous contributions. Having heard, probably, of cheap baths and washhouses for the poor, the reigning Powers thought that the rich might have no objection to the same luxury. The band played several quadrilles, as usual, but Za Poule, in consequence of the puddles, was the only figure that seemed appropriate. One of our contemporaries says that the showers gave a refreshing greenness to the aspect of the plants ; but the greenness of the sprigs of fashion, who had come out upon the occasion, was, we should think, more striking than the viridity of the foliage. Special Dramatic Constables. Tue feeling of indignation at the late invasion of the French actors is very strong indeed among the English translators. Many of the Members of the Dramatic Authors’ Society have sworn themselves in as Special Constables, to take up every French subject directly the said subject shall appear. GuIDE T0 THE INsoLVENT Dexstors’ Court.—The surest way, lately, of getting there has been to turn Mob Orator.

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| Masgsty’s dominions. W he keeps a shower-bath ready for | : 1 aa od diteetl . J | the Society cleared off their property the following day, no less than 264 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL. THE PRESERVER OF THE PUBLIC PEACE. dy fy, HK\ Certainty Old Aquarius is the most loyal subject in Her every disorderly meeting, and directly he sees the Te ag assemble, flop! he pulls the string, and down falls the jolly ram, carrying deso- lation, colds, and rheumatism everywhere. , The Seditionists, too, should like old Aquarius. He cools their ardour, and keeps them out of rows, in which the only glory to be gained is a broken head. He has always a “drop” at their disposal, and sprinkles discretion on their turbulent heat. Lately, he has been the Mob’s Best Friend, and has snatched many a red-hot FusseL. out of the fire, which the military have orders always to keep ready for those who are determined to stir up the embers of sedition. The Propagandists, also, should be thankful to MonstzUR AQUARIUS ; for, has he not supplied the water in Trafalgar Square, which has given them a gratuitous washing, when they stood on the brink of a harsher treatment? A little water did them all the good in the world, especially with the towelling they afterwards received, and has prevented them getting out of their depth by dabbling in the troubled waters of anarchy and French revolution. ‘ The Government should be grateful as well to our peace-loving Aquarius ; for he is without doubt the most faithful Special Constable that can be found in England. He has only to raise his bucket, and hundreds disperse. His staff must be a barometer that always points to wet. Might we ask him, as an additional favour, to get the public meetings always appointed in Vauxhall Gardens—his hereditary pro- perty—for then we should care no more for a public demonstration than we do for a Grand Gala night, or 40,000 additional lamps. The result must inevitably end in rain, and lots of it! . We vote that a public testimonial be got up to Aquarius. The best form for it to take would be a tremendous Pump, the spouts to consist of portraits of the most distinguished orators: the longest spouter to be, of course, Mz. Fearcus O’Connor. A Difficult Move. TuE Suffolk Chronicle gives us the particulars of how a house was moved seventy feet, quite entire and uninjured, at Ipswich. It seems it was done by mechanical means, and greased timber. The same parties should be invited to come up to London to move the House of Commons ; though, probably, it would defy the best machinery in the country, as long as Lorp Joun is inside it, and opposes every pop movement. e warn him to give way, or else the House when it is moved, will be brought about his ears in such a manner that he will regret not having one of the above greased timbers to enable him (as JENKINS, in his rose-water diction would say), to “ cut his stick upon.” Eanest Jones’s Locxer.—Newgate. THE AQUATIC FETE AT CHISWICK. Most of the Plants were not enumerated at the last Horticultural Show. We suppose the heaviness of the rain blinded the eyes of the reporters. We repair the showery omission. Amongst those which excited the most attention were— _ : é Tue Droorinc Lity—a beautiful specimen, carried off by Miss Moytacvg, of Tavistock Square. pie Tue Aquatic Rosz.—The colours at first were very vivid, but towards noon they faded terribly, owing, it is supposed, to too much water. The head was surmounted by lovely flowers of a beautiful feathery texture, of several colours; but they drooped too much, and ultimately broke, though a parasol was carefully held over them all the “1. Awarded to Miss Emity Smrru, of London. HE Watery Bive-Betiz.—Cultivated by Miss Waters, of Peck- ham. A very slender plant, almost too delicate for the open air. The hues, which were of a delicious cerulean sickly muance, soon went, though they were wrapt up in a thick mackintosh covering, which an officer had kindly thrown over the beautiful flower to protect it from the pelting shower. THe Weerine Wittow.—Carried off by Mrs. A’Wuorrsr, of Buttercup Lodge, Fulham: the exterior very exceedingly showy, and the proportions very large. The upper part was white, slightly touched with streaks of red, of a bright rowge complexion; but the beauty of this soon disappeared, for after the first shower there was scarcely a trace of it left. This plant was very heavy, and required the assistance of two strong footmen to lift it out of the carriage. Towards the after- noon it was observed to sink very much, and was only kept up by a few drops of cherry-brandy, after which it revived a little, and kept up its head with refreshed vigour. There were some most curious parasite oe such as the Otp Man, brought from the Oriental Club, who in the rain looked greener than ever, and would cling to the ladies’ dresses ; and the SweET W1LLIAM, reared in the Albany—that rare outhouse for fast plants—and that _ annoying the ladies terribly, till it was obliged to be cut, and ultimately carried out on a wheelbarrow from the place. The fée altogether gave the greatest satisfaction to those who are fond of the good old aquatic sports of England; and it is supposed that 253 buckets of rain-water. The Gardens had never before such a perfect bumper. NO FOREIGN ARTISTS! Tue same spirit of hostility against foreigners burst out last Monday week, at Greenwich Fair as well as at Drury Lane. When the Ghost at RIcHARDSON’s came on, as usual, in the fifth act, he was received with orange-peel and loud cries of “ Off! Off!” It seems that the rumour had. been industriously spread, by agents of Scowton, that the Ghost at RICHARDSON’S was a Frenchman ! However, proof to the contrary was soon given, by his coming forward, and, in very good Irish, *intrating the indulgence of a British audience, which had never been denied to a British Ghost before.” This quelled the rising storm, and he was allowed to point to Don Ferdinando as his murderer, and to descend with him quietly below, without any further interruption. The curtain fell amidst the most prodigal display of blue fire that has been known for years. . The Sapient Pig Toby would have fallen a martyr, likewise, to the same prejudice, only he had the presence of mind to hang outside his booth a certificate from his medical attendant (an eminent pork- butcher), testifying that he was “no cochon, or German, or Italian, or Chinese Pig, but a genuine native of Hampshire.” In consequence of this precaution, the “ spell” of his performance was not broken once, and he escaped being prematurely hurried into that land of black puddings, from which no pig was ever known to return. THE FIVE SOUS BANQUET. We must beg leave to dispute with our Parisian neighbours the originality of the Republican idea of gi populace. The notion is evidently copied from the once popular Cann of St. Giles’s, who obtained considerable renown a few years ago, by = meee my | to the public what, in the emphatic language of his own lacards, he designated “a devilish good dinner for twopence-halfpenny.” This repas diabolique consisted—if our memory does not betray us—of a terrific mess, which Cann god termed “a jorum,” of little bits of beef, saturated in a pint of water surrounding a large tract of potato, which swam about like a floating island in the middle. This five sous banquets. establishment in France goes by the name of CaNNEs, may have imported the idea into the country of his adoption. giving five sous banquets to the | was served out in a basin, and has evidently formed the basis of the | It is not improbable that Lonp Brovcuaw, whose | UMD ap ITS RNR aI

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PAs Io Sean ABD-EL- KADER at Toulon, 14 Adaptation from Shakspeare (An), 73 Advance of Russia, 74 fErial Mail (The), 155 sop in London, 108 Affecting Incident, 61 After Dinner Conversation (An), 182 After Events, 247 Allegorical Gentleman in Difficulties (An), 159 Alsatia Restored, 49 American Parliamentary Summary, 146 Anglo-Dutch Village (An), 132 Anti-English Movement in France, 160 Approach of Summer, 247 Aquatic Féte at Chiswick (The), 264 Arithmetical Questions, 57 Arms of the See of Manchester, 57 Art amongst the Lamp-posts, 92 Art as Applied to Twelfth Cakes, 15 Art of Fighting a Duel (The), 181 Art of Fraternising (The), 186 Art of Making Yourself Unpopular (The), 108 Art of Receiving a Deputation (The), 96 Astral Literature, 209 Astronomical Amusements, 183 Asylum of Europe (The), 164 Atrocious Assault, 135 Autobiography of Mr. Briefless,20, 44, &c. Awful Position of Mr. Dunup at Bou- logne, 96 Awful Sufferings of a British Husband, 244 BALPE and his Baton, 142 Bank of Character, 93 Rar—its Ragged School (The), 16 Battle of Limerick (The), 195 Beadle’s Dream, 56 Bear Garden (A), 227 Begging at Epsom, 225 Bellow by John Bull (A), 41 Bit of True Philosophy, 153 Black Job (A), 71 Bo-peep of the Bourbons (The), 100 Bowbell Farces, 25 Breach of Privilege, 31 British Manufactures Triumphant, 213 British Tree of Liberty, 234 Brougham a Frenchman? 172 Brougham on Government, 174 Brougham on Law and Punch on Brougham, 208 Brummagem Byron (A), 146 Bumble Letters (The), 225, 236 CALAMITOUS Visitation, 243 Canine or Canonical, 3 Case of Gammon, 63 Case of Real Distress (A), 92, 107 Catch them at it, 209 Catnach Collection, 43 Catnach Hebrew Melodies, 83 Change for the Better (A), 53 Charity and Pikes, 156 Chatean de Wig-box, Cannes, 196 Cheap Tax Gathering, 116 Chickens for the Million, 127 Chiswick Flower Show (The), 263 Chloroform at Billingsgate, 87 Christmas Bills for Parliament, 4 Christmas Boxes for Government, 5 City Tolls (The), 181 Claremont Court Circular, 161 Classics and the Commons, 13 Clearing up a Mistake, 160 Clerical Comedy, Clerkenwell Poets (The), 246 ** Club des Femmes’ (The), 218 Cochrane Demonstration (The), 188 Cochrane’s Monster Meeting, 192 Cock and Hen Colonrs, 135 Cockroach’s Progress, 191 Cold Water Cure (The), 160 Colville’s School for Poaching, 192 Comfort in Shaving, 44 Coming Comet (The), 56 Coming Man (The), 259 Compliment to our Neighbours (A), 93 Conflict of the Coats, 205 Conscience Money, 169, 227, 255 Contempt of the County Court, 162 Contrary Winds, 52 Counterfeit Coin, 100 Country Quarters, 41 Cromwell Letters (The), 2 Cry from the Casserole (A), 159 Curiosities of Echoes, 2:9 Curiosities of Leap Year, 67 Curious Patient, 161 Cutler’s Lament, 51 Day Sleeper (The), 188 Dead Alive (The), 3 Dean and Dr. Hampden (The), 12 Decencies of Life (The), 47 Delectable Ballad of the Four Kings of Italy, 104 Detoxicant (The), 87 Difficult Move (A), 264 Dilemma (A), 257 Dishonoured Bill (A), 260 Doings at a ‘* Certain Church,” 74 Drawing-room for the Million, 213 Dreadful Destitution, 248 Dream of the Future (A), 107 Drury Lane Spectral Fund, 245 Duke’s Grammar (The), 22 Dungeon Keep (A), 51 Errects of our own Revolution, 130 Elastic Baby Jumper, 57 Emblem for Ireland, 138 Emigration from France, 165 English Agitator (The), 116 English Definitions for an Irish Diction- ary, 214 English Season, 132 Equal to the Emergency, 144 Euclid Outdone, 72 Exchequer in a Fix, 255 Excuses for not going to the Derby, 234 Exiled Londoner, 32 Exotics of Scotland, 44 Expected Downfall of the Stage, 3 FALLAcigs of the Faculty, 122 False Reports, 52 Family io Arches’ Court (The), 5 Family Man (A), 240 Fantastic Exhibitions, 228 Fashionable Laboratories, §8 Fashions for 1848, 72 Fashions Foretold for the Fair, 91 Fast Clergymen, 217 Female Disabilities, 88 -— Pardonable Words about Ourselves, 4 Fine Arts, 13, 84 Fine Young Irish Gentleman (The), 152 Finery, Dirt, and Disease, 54 Finest Actor in Europe, 32 Firelocks and Free Trade, 14 First Sampler of the Invasion, 46 Fishing Extraordinary, 151 Five Minutes’Advice on Railway Royalty, 100 Five Sous Banquet (The), 264 Flutterings of the Feathered Tribe, 94 Fortifications for the Interior, 47 Free and Easy Felony, 230 French Ambassador, 140 French at Brighton, 13, 42 French Dictation, 47 French Editor (A), 227 French Princes (The), 139 French Sympathisers, 170 Ga.uipot Companions, 46 Game Fancy Fa'r (A), 75 Gentlemen in Difficulties, 30 Genuine Doo (A), 91 Germen Impressions, 9 Gin-and-water Cure for Low Spirits, 5 Gocarts for Adults, 24 Gold and Silver Washing, 25 pwene Gleanings, 45 Good Exchange, 155 Gotobed Letters (The), 163 Grand National Fancy Fair, 121 Grand Theatrical Effect, 24 Great Bargain, 174 Great Clock Movement, 52 Great Day for Scotland, 194 Great Meeting of Petticoat Favourites, 193 Great Unburdened (The), 117 Great Window Breaker (The), 111 Gatta Percha again, 186 HamaApnryap of the Bonlevards (The),129 Handbill by the Hangman, 127 Hard Blow (A), 142 Hazard of the Die (The), 233 Hint for Exeter Hall, 156 Hint for the Court Newsman, 55 Hint to Artists (A), 259 Hints for Mr. Anstey’s next Monster Motion, 94 Hints for theChancellor of the Exchequer, 8 9 History of the Income-Tax, 99 How to Ascertain the Depth of Snow, 45 How to dress a Revolution, 152 How to Dispose of your Sympathisers,151 How to Tame Ireland, 166 How to Treat a Propagandist, 182 Harry Skurry Taxation, 123 ILLUSTRATIONS of Low Art, 113 Imperial Rothschild, 145 Inglis—Church—Constitution, 56 Interoational Tit for Tat, 120 Invasion Small Talk, 14 Ireland’s Real Disorder, 57 Irish Dragon (The), 214 Irish Game Laws, 29 Irish Gems, 153 Irish Members and the Income-Tax, 128 Irish Price Current, 161 Irish Quarters, 29 Irish Ranters (The), 139 Irish Sceevola, 246 “It is Our Opening Day,” 185 Jenxins at Drury Lane, 257 Jobson in the Suburbs, 249 John Bull and Johnny Crapaud, 233 Joke from Chancery Lane, 170 Jokes Absolutely Thrown Away, 173 Ketrtvx has Done it all (The), 23 King O’Phillips for Ireland, 103 Kings in their Cock-boats (The), 146 La Suite d’ane Revolution, 120 Ladies’ Art of Betting, 218 Last Days of London, 155 Last Momects of a Republi (The),110 Led by the ** Noes,” 143 Legislative Candour, 76 Letter on our National Defences, 5 Liberality of Rumour, 78 Limerick Tragedy (The), 196 Little Dinner at Timmins’s (A), 219, 247, Little Lessons for Little Statesmen, 88 Livery of Seisin, 117 London Taken by the French, 10 Looking-glasses for Birds, 38 Loopholes of Bribery, 141 Lord Chamberlain (The), 254 Lord George’s Lament, 66 Lord John Russell's Bow! of Bishop, 31 Lord Nelson to ‘ny 123 Lost Game (The), Louis-Philippe’s | to the Queen of Spain, 64 MAGNIFICENT Patriot (A), 145 Making Game, 142 Making the Most of Them, 229 Markets (The), 87 Martyrdom of the Dean of Hereford, 14 Matter of Course (A), 263 Mayday’s Liberty Trees, 204 Mecca of England, 43 Medical Maiden (A), 117 Mercy for Annette Meyers, 107 Mercy with a Vengeance, 83 Memoir of Mr. Mitchel, 140 Mitchel ‘‘ at Home,’”’ 110 Mivart’s Hotel, 97 Model Agitator (The), 130 Model Bachelor (The), 243 Model Baby (The), 216 Model Daughter (The), 230 Model Gentleman (The), 726 Model Governess (A), 51 Model Husband (The), 179 Model Labourer (The), 259 Model Magistrate (The), 176 Model Maid-of. all-work, 32 Model M. P. (The), 118 Model Policeman (The), 256 Model Sponge (The), 56 Model Wife (The), 187 Monetary Country Dances, 10 Monster Motion, 82 Moon's Changes (The), 133 More Atrocity, 67 More Fallacies of the Irish, 5 Mottoes for the Taxes, 77 Moves in the Right Direction, 237 Mr. Chisholm Anstey, 66 Mr. Dunup’s Failure, 15 Mr. Poik’s Olive Branch, 2 Mr. Punch for Repeal, 81 Mr. Smith and Moses, 127 Mr. Snob’s Remonstrance, 217 Mrs. Glass’s History of France, 99 Music of the Mob, 243 Mysteries of the Initials, 86 Mystery Unravelled (The), 98 VoL. XIV. DD

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266 INDEX. Narzow Escape (The), 191 National Conveyance, 7 Ne Poff Ultra (The), 220 Nelson Column Emeute (The), 110 New Maps for Old Ones, 138 New Menagerie (A), 205 Nobility at the Pyramids, 169 No Foreign Artists! 264 Otp and New Staff, 224 Old and New Toys, 76 Old Clo, 213 Old Heads on New Shoulders, 121 Old Israel to Young Israel, 63 Ominous, 105 Omnibus Ingenuity, 253 On the new Forward Movement, 207 Oracles, 233 Ornithological Reverse of Fortune, 191 Our Barry-eux Tapestry, 33, 34, 35, &c. Our Extraordinary Expresses, 98 Our Foreign Correspondents, 145, 210 Our Foreign Expresses, 151 Qar Irish Prize Bull, 51 Our Legal Heroes, 73 Our National Defences, 132 Our Native Language in Danger of In- vasion, 48 Our Parisian Court Circular, 152 Our Plan for Fortifying London, 31 Our Prize Translation, 12 Oxford Doings and Oxford Duns, 21 Pappy Redivivus, 239 Paid Bill (The), 54 Pantomime Distress, 43 Pauic in the Joke Market, 248 Panes and Penalties, 74 Parallel Points, 124 Paris, 166, 203, 293 Paris Deputations, 152 Paris in London, 223 Parliamentary Grammar, 84 Patentees of Government, 106 Patriotism at a Discount, 105 Paying the Piper, 67 Pearls from Punch’s Album, 43 Perpetual Invasion, 106 Persecution of British Footmen, 131, 143 Persons Missing, 154 Petition from Peter Pindar the Third, 185 Philanthropist (A), 159 Philosophical Stanzas, 4 Picture of a Home, 78 Playwrights and Plagiarists, 3 Pleasant Country (The), 12 Please Observe the Address, 15 Police Intelligence, ‘‘Dropping a Bill,’’105 Political Aphis (The), 155 Political Barometer, 96 Political Brothers, 108 Political Laughing Chorus (The), 111 Porcupine with many Friends, 247 Portfolio (The), 205 Portraits of the French Deputies, 203 ** Post’? Donkeys, 55 Post Office Labours, 91 Potato Conspiracy, 255 Preserver of the Public Peace (The), 261 Punch at the Cirque, 128 Punch on Street Fighting, 186 Punch Rifles, 85 Punch’s Court Circular, 15 Panch’s Maxims Moralized, 100, 118, &c. Punch’s Milk Jag, 238 Punch’s New Battery, 2 Punch’s Parliament, 215 Panch’s Political Economy, 229 Punch’s Poems of Parliament, 61 Punch’s Police, 173 Punch’s Testimonial to Himself, 1 Punning and Punchslaughter, 192 Pure Patriotism, 144 Purveyors to the Queen, 3 Pride of the City, 72 Prince Hal and Prioce Al, 228 Prince Louis-Napoleon, 105 Prize Problems, 84 Professors’ Professions, 25 Progress of Art (The), 142 Prophetic Speech for Lord John (A), 210 Queer File (A), 52 Questions at the Examination of At- torneys, 76 Questions for Anybody who chooses to Answer them, 159 Questions for the Examination of Attor- neys, 46, 71 Racogp Revo.uTion, 176 Railway Architecture, 219 | Railway Charges, 218 Railway Reports, 110 Rappell (The), 248 Rather Serious, 139 Rather Too Bad, 62 | Real Fraternity, 149 Real Invasion (A), 67 Reform your Flags, 161 Reform your Premier’s Bills. 77 | Reform your Sentry-boxes, 66 | Register! Register! 155 Rejected Jokes, 203 Republic of Letters (The), 136 Respectability in Ireland, 55 Respectability in Sausage-makers, 22 ne Return of the Absentees (The), 130 Reverse of Fortune, 71 Revolution in the Drama, 238 Reward of Merit, 135 Rival Monsters (The), 91 Robbery by a Gentleman of Fortune, 155 Romance of Advertising, 159 Romance of History, 99 Romance of Roast Ducks (A), 257 Royal Domestic Economy, 20 Royal Game of Goose, 140 Rules for Lord John, 98 Sa.t-Perre Enthusiasm, 57 Satisfaction from Sir Robert Inglis, 111 School for Princes, 238 School for Spouters (The), 253 Secrets of Theatres, 54 Sentiments of a Squire (The), 248 Serious Lecture on Broad Grins (A), 165 Shade of Jenkins, 58 Shakspeare an Alien, 246 Short Cut to Posterity, 208 Should Old Acquaintance be Forgot ? 229 Shower of Newspapers, 225 ** Silence in the Gallery,” 2 Sleeping Beauty (The), 250 Smoke, 236 Something New at Last, 159 Something of National Importance, 7 Something that beats Cock-Fighting, 22 Song for the Lumber-Troop, 25 Song of the Arrested One, 123 Song of the new Volume, 2 Song of the Sluggard, 240 Song of the Turkey (The), 9 Song of the Propagandist, 254 Songs of the Rail, 24 Spanish Achilles (A), 74 Special, 159 Special Engine (A), 111 Squeezeables (The), 209 St. Helena the Second, 106 | St. James’s Clock, 86 Steam Chickens, 82 Steps of the Seditionists (The), 257 « Story without an End (The), 72 Strange Spell, 121 Strangest Metamorphosis (The), 197 Stupid Art of Prophesying, 154 Sudden Death of Mr. Whig, 86 Suggestive Titles, 119 Sunday Balls,-33 Sunday at Exeter Hall, 37 - Sunlight and Gaslight, 25 “Superior” Pony (A), 83 Survey of London, 84 Swedish Nightingale (The), 197 Sweets of Sedition, 174 ** TAKEN in, and Done for,” 16 Talbot and Tuam, 67 Temple Earthquake (The), 12 = Historique at Drury Lane (Le), 263 They should Reflect, but they won't, 257 They won’t be Quiet, 195 Thick and Thin Advocacy, 2 Thing to make Light of (A), 5 Three Births of France (The), 93 Time for Poaching (The), 36 To R. A.’s in General, 161 To Sovereigns in Difficulties, 129 To the Unemployed, 187 Trafalgar Square Revolution (The), 112 Transplanting French Theatres, 235 Travellers Tell Strange Tales, 129 Travels in London, 11, 19, 29, 35 Treasure Trove for Newspapers, 52 Tree of Liberty (The), 154 Tremendous Feat, 109 Tribune in Tribulation (The), 226 Trip to Paris in Search of Liberty (A), 184 Triumph at the Wrong End (A), 236 Trustee (The), 109 Two Mare’s Nests, 259 Usg of Chloroform (The), 48 Vernon Gallery (The), 253 Voioe from the Weathercock (A), 54 Voice of Woman (The), 150 WanTED a President, 108 Wanted an Oculist, 254 War’s Injudicious Alarms, 10 We beg to Apologise, 186 Weaker Sex in Alarming Strength, 26 Wear and Tear of Treaties (The), 55 Whack Row de Dow, 215 What can be Done with Ireland? 121 What do they mean by it? 204 What will the French do with Algeria, 41 What ’s the Matter with Him, 224 Where does it all come from, 66 Whig Cabinet Pictures, 84 Whipping Well Merited (A), 116 Who Harbours Another Man’s Dog, 9¢ Who is dat Knocking at de Door ? 260 Who Shall Escape Whipping, 24 Window Breaking in London, 83 Window Tax (The), 87 Women the Best Judges (The), 245 Women’s Charter (The), 249 Word with Louis Blanc (A), 149 Workhouse Wine, 86 Worst Come at Last, 85 YaesTerpAy; a Tale, 237 Printed by William Bradbury, of Ne 6, York Place, Stoke Newington, and Frederick Mullett Evans, of No. 7, Church Row, Stoke Newingtcn, both in the County of Middlesex, Printers, Street, in the Precinct of Whitefriars, ia the City of London, and Published by them at No. 8, Fleet Street, in the Pa-ish of St. Bride, in the C.ty of London.—Saruspar, at their Office, ia Lombard June 2ith, 1843.